I have officially left New York, my awesome job, and my potential
lover(s) (not really…) for bigger and blander things, like school,
where I will trace the chornology of comedic rhetoricians from Lucian
to Carlin (really…). READ MORE! My Sad Life Part MCXVII August 4th, 2008:
Today I was caught carrying a twelve pack of Sam Adams and four sticks of butter into the bachelor cave.READ MORE! DAMN You, Wii! August 2nd, 2008:
After a VERY SERIOUS discussion with my friend
Kent concerning the moral complexities of The
Dark Knight, followed by a not-so-warm text fight with my ex-girlfriend
about how we never talk “4 reel,” I realized my life is sad.READ MORE!
Writing for THE APIARY July 25th, 2008:
Last summer while living in New York with my girlfriend, I attended as many open-mics as possible. The girl split, but now I'm in a better place to work, right? RIGHT?! READ MORE!
ABORTION is REAL! July 21st, 2008:
In the greatest experiment Facebook has ever attempted, all
Christians using the networking system are slowly joining one group:
One Body of Christ Experiment. It is a group based on several members’
mutual love of a one, Jesus Christ. Within moments of searching for
something funny, I found a Forum discussion called: “Abortion is
wrong…period.” By the bottom of page 1 of this Forum discussion,
members of the group had already abandoned the specific subject of
abortion, and moved on to general philosophy and name calling. It was
up to me to set things right: READ MORE! The Brobylonian Horoscopes: July 4th, 2008:
The Brobylonian Empire stretched from Western Asia to the verdant valleys of the Mediterranean.READ MORE!
WELCOME TO MY PARTY!! June 28th, 2008
The debut hit from my one-man band, ZOINKS. READ MORE!
Porn is OK sometimes: April 2008: Within days of each other my school's erotic magazine, The Moderator, and Lindsay
Lohan's recreation of Marylin Monroe's last shoot came out. This
sparked the hackneyed discussion between me and my girlfriend (whom I
love very much) of what is porn and what is not. Most people don't
think the Lindsay thing was "Art" and the last time I asked my
girlfriend if we should go to the Moderator release party (regardless
of artistic value) I was nearly slapped in the face. I understand
this. I should not look at naked pictures of people I sit next to in
classes like Homeric Origins in Scandinavia. Minds have wandered during more important shit than that.
But,
tit was all right for my girlfriend to look up some old pictures of
Marylin and compare the breast sizes between Lindsay, Marylin, and
herself. We're not really big on porn. In fact, on the rare occasions
we've thought to get some the idea is much more thrilling than when we
finally turn it on and go: "Wow, this makes me feel dirty...but in a
bad way." So this was a big moment. Artistic intent or otherwise
boobs are boobs. And I love them. I could have been there all day
comparing.
The weird double-standard I'm trying to point out is
that it was OK for me to admire Marylin's breasts, but not Lindsay's.
That means that I get into trouble for recent porn, like digital age
porn, but if it's vintage, go for it! So if you see me at the MET
jerking off to a statue on the first floor (not even a woman statue.
Just one of the dude statues that's had it's penis chiseled off by
someone who was also queasy about this subject years ago), you'll know
the reason.
In other Battle of the Sexes news: a waiter
recently gave a group of women who had complained about his service a
check that said: "SUCK MY DICK FUCK FACE!"
Now
it'd be a little funnier if it said "Suck a Dick Fuck Face" and it was
some crabby old couple, but come on people! That's pretty funny.
Especially since a "SUCK MY DICK FUCK FACE" is completely free. Ahhh.
I can see the youtube parody now:
Dinner for five: $80 SUCK MY DICK FUCK FACE: $0 Extorting a nice restaurant over something misogynistic, but also kind of funny: Priceless. March 2008:
Things that should stop
Since last I
wrote, horrible atrocities occurred that tested my faith in Humanity.
Every one of these horrible events occurred Sunday night during the
80th annual Oscars. I have now changed my New Year's Resolution from
"Lose 15 pounds and stop being a dickhead (on the weekends at least)"
to "Never see the movie Enchanted, and sever any ties with
people who have seen it or enjoyed the music presented at the Oscars."
You know what? Scratch that: Sever ties with anyone who could
concentrate on the music while also watching the unnecessary spectacle
of people pretending to be from other countries or construction
workers...or really old people on a bench. I was confused. I was
frustrated. I questioned my sanity for not turning it off.
The only recent events that can top this tragedy are, sadly, about more serious subjects. They were:
1.
When I took my girlfriend to a Cavs basketball game the day after MLK
day and the entire team recorded themselves reciting parts of the "I
Have a Dream" speech, but only Lebron seemed to take it seriously, and
as background music for this epic recitation (I shit you not) the
editor chose the score from Jurassic Park. So all I could
think was "One day our children, and our children's children will not
be judged by the color of their skin, but by the number of raptors they
can hunt down and not be killed by like that Australian guy was."
2.
During the All-Star Basketball game this year, the half-time show
included famous New Orleans musicians, while a team of dancers built a
fake house inside the stadium to show that the "NBA Cares" and they are
helping to rebuild New Orleans by (once again) spending their money to
build a fake living space inside a STADIUM. I'm pretty sure this is a
touchy subject after the whole Superdome-without-any-water-and-food
thing happened.
Anyway, the NBA Cares about poverty and
racism, and white people care about getting DVD sales up for a shitty
movie by shoving the music down America's throat.
In other news there is a much needed comma missing from the
title of Bill Cosby’s new book.It’s called “Come on People” and it has a
bunch of white splotches on the front. Still less awful than the above faux pas.
February 2008: Roadtrip!
Kent and I went down to Comix last Saturday so I could perform in a new talent showcase at Comix. The show was hosted and booked by Becky Donohue, who is a fantastic person to know if you're doing comedy in NYC. Track her down. Ask her questions. Send her cookies laced with fun powder. On the way to the club, we saw a sign for the new Veggie Tales Movie, called The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. Possibly the best children's entertainment pitch since Boobah: The writer went into a producer's office (perhaps even prepared a Powerpoint to make his position clear), and asked "What is it that children love? Sitting on their asses, and watching TV. What else do kids love? Pirates! And what do kids want more than anything IN THE WHOLE WORLD? To learn the stations of the Cross by heart through song. I have a way we can slip all of these elements into one movie: The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. This way we can show kids that there's a lighter side to pirating without all the boozing and raping and using your scurvy-ridden body to search the world for transient treasures. That's right. These pirates board others ships, not to steal, but to preach the Beatitudes. It will be the single most boring film this year. What do you think?" And the producer had to go: "It's a hit!"
Other than that, our trip was pretty normal: a few hours of bitching about classmates, singing the 1998 Goo Goo Dolls classic "Iris," and really long silences, which we nearly always break with a loud impression of Orson Welles doing the Paul Masson commercials: "OOOAAHHHH! French Champagne!"