It's Official...

...I am now another myspace asshole. I only have time for one blog, so I'm shifting over to that one. MySpace is a clusterfuck of worthless interactions and jiggly visuals, but what little there is that's worthwhile may be enough to make up for it. I'll leave this up about another week.


One Year

This Thursday, it will have been one year since I first got onstage. In that time, comedy has earned me damn near fifty dollars. Comedy has also been directly responsible for me getting laid even less than before. Not that I expected to just walk onstage, tell a few shitty jokes, and get a free pass to the post-open-mic orgies, but I am a bit surprised that there seems to be no such thing as comedy groupies (actually, there is, but she lives in Decatur). So, for those of you looking for a career that will provide you with wealth and plenty of hot young ass, be a priest. It's basically the same job, anyway - every weekend you stand in front of a crowd, say a bunch of made up shit, and fuck a 12-year-old boy in the mouth.

I realize now that I haven't done a lot of religious material over the past year. I have my opinions about religion, but I don't suffer the delusion that a few jokes will change anyone else's mind about that. I firmly believe that every American has the inalienable right to subscribe to whatever bullshit fantasy he wants, even if it provides barely a moment's relief from the tedium of his miserable, opinionated existence.

And I respect that.

Anyway, I'll be celebrating my first year as a shitty comic by violating everyone at the Jukebox before J. Scott Homan shows us why we all suck.



I went onstage for the first time in a couple months last week, again at the Jukebox. The crowd was small but responsive, and there were a few new guys in the "am" portion of the "pro-am" night. The pro spot was occupied by Tom Foss, whose energy (and appearance, sort of) reminded me of Robin Williams.

Glancing over this morning's headlines affirmed my heartfelt belief that the religious among us should be boiled in bat shit. Not because I don't share their beliefs but because they have no sense of humor.

On our side of the oil-slick, Xians - in observance of their long tradition of forming opinions and judgments without evidence - are complaining (what else?) about an episode of Will and Grace that hasn't aired yet.

Idea: Line up "people of faith" against a wall and, one by one, tell them a joke. Those who laugh, live. Those who don't...


Matt Hall, Bob J, and a bunch of douchebags

First, I've activated word verification to prevent spam in the comments area (I'll hunt my own MILFs, thank you).


The twenty "strong" audience at the Jukebox's Thursday pro-am in Peoria hardly laughed at a damn thing. By the time I got up, I didn't give a rat's ass - partly because the crowd didn't respond well to most of the folks that went up before me, partly because I was tired, and I walked up there in a kind of funk. According to a friend who often comes with me to these things, the attitude turned out to be an unplanned step in the right direction. He's one of the three people I know whose criticism is always brutally honest and usually accurate, so I'll have to look at the tape and see for myself.

Matt Hall did the guest spot ahead of Bob J. Matt's been at this for several years and has a good stage presence and solid material, but the audience wasn't buying it for some reason, and finally he just snapped: "What the hell is wrong with you people!" He said this with a big smile on his face, and this got a laugh. "Gas is $3 a gallon dammit, now laugh at my jokes!" This also got a laugh. Maybe Matt and I both learned the same lesson. As Bill Hicks said, the act is something to fall back on when you have nothing to say.

Bob J may be the closest thing to Rich Little currently working. He may be better. He did Robert Plant singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," complete with Jimmy Page riffs. He did the entire casts of South Park, King of the Hill, and The Family Guy - all at the same party. I've heard enough Shaggy/Scooby Doo impressions to last a lifetime, but I have to admit that Bob J's were the best I've ever heard, and audiences never seem to tire of those voices, so more power to him. Even with all that, the crowd didn't put out as much as they should have for him.

Doug Stanhope will be there at the end of this month. I'll go if I have any gas money left.


No, seriously...

When I said I was selling my television, I wasn't kidding. I informed my cable provider that this month's payment would be my last. Part of the reason is the less-than-stellar internet service, which costs just as much now - if not more - than it did when cable internet became available about 6 years ago. But mostly it's the fact that the vast majority of television programming is a waste of time. I knew that, of course, even before I made my first new television purchase two years ago (I did buy a TV back in 1996 when I lived in Japan so I could watch game shows where half naked women did dishes, but that was special). My intention was to use the cable for movies, PBS, and BookTV, perhaps the occasional documentary. BookTV was cancelled a few months back, PBS is avilable without cable, and the movie selection, even with HBO, blows monkey cock. With all the movies available on any given day, I have watched Boogie Nights three times this month.

In the past month I found myself vegging out to a show on alien abductions, one on Nostradamus, and another on psychic spies, and that was the History Channel. And while you might think a TV is necessary for all the "comedy gold" it provides, I've seen enough to have plenty of jokes for years to come - it's not like TV actually changes, and besides, most jokes about popular TV shows of any decade become hack very quickly. If I were George Carlin and could be pretty sure I'd beat everyone else to the small screen with that material, I might reconsider, but even so, there's something depressing about the fact that so many people watch crap that even hack TV jokes always have some currency.

CNN and FOX and every other news channel have been nothing more than frantic, incoherent versions of The Weather Channel for the last six weeks, as if nothing else required our attention. From the time drunks hit Denny's to when Larry King wraps up, it's hurricanes. How about the weather in Fallujah?

Bomby. Back to you, Wolf.

Then there's the sheer cost. I remember when cable was new - the idea was that you'd pay a small fee to watch programming without commercials. Now we pay for the privelege of seeing more commercials than ever. My TV, internet, and Netflix charges add up to over $1600/year, money I now need for gas.



I'm selling my television.

The Mexican army has sent people and supplies into Texas to help hurricane evacuees. That says something about our "Empire" when we don't have the resources to take care of our own. While the administration is busy fighting a "war" it can't win in the middle east, Americans at home suffer.

It's high time this country - and the world, for that matter - reconsidered its dependence on fossil fuels. It's not just gasoline. Plastics, vinyls, paints, and too many other products to mention are oil-based.

FEMA does not want the media showing pictures of the dead in N.O. When we're more concerned about our image than about the substance of our actions, it's time to roll some heads. The media treats Americans like babies when it doesn't show us the reality of what's happening in Louisiana, or Iraq, or anywhere else. How many times have you seen a news channel hype a "disturbing video" of a tragedy, disaster, or crime, only to announce that they will not show certain portions because they're "too gruesome?" It's so condescending and insulting I could scream. I'm not 12. I'm a property-owning, tax-paying American adult.

This country becomes more infantile and moralizing by the day. I only hope that the revolution begins before I die. I won't be able to watch it, as I won't own a TV, but it probably won't be televised anyway.

Sorry the above was void of jokes. Here's one:

If you're going to subject everyone around you to your cell-phone conversations, the least you can do is call a 1-900 number.


What would a real president do?

So, the Louisiana Purchase is in the news again...

My thoughts on this whole Katrina mess are pretty well summed up by David Brooks. I will add that the media "coverage" yesterday was shameful - all the bobble-heads smiling and pointing out what a great job everyone's doing. That's the line the White House handed them, and that's the line they're regurgitating. Pussies. Yes, people are doing selfless and heroic deeds, but the spin being put on this is disgusting. Already the weepy montage is in full effect, complete with elderly, mostly black, faces in shock, babies, and plenty of praying and crosses. I watched Anderson Cooper yesterday imply, as did other "journalists," that it is the New Orleans residents' own fault they didn't heed the evacuation order. Hey Anderson, go stand in a hurricane.

This event was predictable, much of the suffering preventable, and now the American people - whose tax dollars will pay for this while they simultaneously get ass-raped at the pump - are being petitioned to send money, courtesy of Eric Clapton, the first of what's sure to be an endless line of Cause Rockers.

I saw a weeping woman two days ago complain that she voted for Bush and was disappointed that he didn't do enough fast enough, and she's right, but she got her $300 tax refund four years ago - I don't know what else she expected. Instead of feeding and clothing her kids with the money, she might have done what her illustrious born-again leader intended and put a downpayment on a bass boat. Or an ark.