My Talk Is Dirty But My Boots Are Clean.

I love writing.

Comedy.

Here We Go Again

Some days I think, "surely racism, Hitler and crack aren't funny," and then I think "no, that's just crazy. Of course Hitler is funny, and so is mental illness." Hitler and Crack!

They Don't Come Much More Sick Than You

I noticed lately I've been writing jokes about monstrous people and events. I don't know why that is. Well, regardless, here's some new stuff. Please enjoy some jokes about MONSTERS.

It's Everything That Is Connected And Beautiful

I find most art books to be utterly uninteresting and unengaging. I think it's the skill with which the art is photographed and reproduced on the page that puts me off. It's glossy, slick and perfect and it almost always bears no resemblance to what the artist created. There really is no substitute for being in the same physical space as a work of art, for sharing the same air and light as this thing. It becomes more real for me and I feel a real sense of communion that I never find from a reproduced image on a page.

Art in a book is separated from reality and the limits of the physical world. It becomes eternal and perfect, and I hate it. I hate it for the same reason that I am utterly bored by Superman. Because it is so removed, so unassailable and so fundamentally alien. It bores me.

But when I can see a piece of art, see the light reflected off of it with my own eyes, that is something very different. I never feel jaded when I stand face to face with a work of art, even the really shitty ones. Ultimately, I find beauty in the flaws. When I can see the grain of a canvas, or the irregular swirl in a brushstroke, or an errant drop of paint that landed on the picture in defiance of the artist's wishes, I see myself, and my flaws, and I find it very reassuring. We live in a flawed, beautiful world and seeing these works or art, and all of their cracks and blemishes, reminds me of just how beautiful this imperfect world can be.

There's also an impermanence to these objects. And they are, after all, simply objects. Paint, cloth, wood, bronze, clay, etc. These things begin as unremarkable pieces of stuff, and through human industry and invention become transcendent. That's fucking beautiful. But they remain things, existing in our physical world, and all things are impermanent. Things break down, they disappear. Each moment they are on display, each moment they exist, brings them one moment closer to their inevitable end. I work in an archive and the one thing I've picked up is that everything we try to preserve will one day perish from this earth, no matter what we do. Lock it up in a sealed, UV-protected vault at the Louvre all you want, but someday we will have to live in a world without the Mona Lisa. That's fucking beautiful. That's life. It's sad, and terrible and tragic and beautiful. It's perhaps the best metaphor for the human condition that I have ever found, and I'm constantly looking.

I just wanted you all to remember that I do have a soul as you listen to the hate-filled piece of shit I recorded at Othello's this week. And to all my friends who stuck around for the whole show, I apologize for throwing such a weird and embarrassing hissy. And thanks for coming out anyway, I hope you had a good time.

Winston Smith's Five Minute Hate

And go to the Oklahoma City Art Museum, dammit.

And It Gives Me Something To Laugh About, 'Cause My Real Life Ain't Fucking Funny.

Nathan told me recently that comedy at the club level is all about selling beer.

There's something disturbing, yet comforting about that idea.

When I think about the performances of great comedians like Lenny Bruce or Richard Pryor, I focus so much on how groundbreaking they were and how amazing their material was that I forget the rooms were full of people who just wanted to have a good time. They didn't necessarily care about changing the rules of our culture or shining lights on the dark, hypocritical corners of society. They wanted to laugh, be with their friends and have a drink. If they weren't there buying tickets and booze and shitty, stale bar food there wouldn't be a club in the first place. And Lenny and Richard would just be some really funny homeless guys.

So thank you, beer-swilling crowds. You make it possible for me to do something I love. No matter how much you may suck, nor how much you may hate everything I say or do, I will always love you, just for showing up and spending your money.

Next week will be my one year anniversary of doing comedy, and I'll be hosting at the Loony Bin all week, doing my level best to sell some beer.

Come see me.

In the meantime, check out my set from Tulsa last week.



Or download

In The Company Of Strangers With Some Vulgar Shit To Say

So, while I was in Dallas, I made an appearance at the Back Door Comedy Club. Funny thing about the Back Door is, you have to be clean. Not just clean, but really clean. No expletives, no bodily fluids, no sex acts, no nothing. So, you can guess it was easy for me to pick out three minutes of material. The sound quality on this is pretty awful, and you've probably heard it all before. So, don't listen to it. But if you really must, you can listen here.

It's The Same Old Thing As Yesterday

June has been rather unbloggy. Sorry about that. Don't expect too much from this one, either.

I'm in Dallas right now, having just seen the Police live in concert. It was a great show. If they come within 500 miles of you, see them. It wasn't perfect. Some of their reinterpretations of their old hits were a little too chill for my taste, and oddly inappropriate for a large arena tour. Sting's son's band, Fiction Plane, opened the show very ably. I'll probably purchase the album.

Here's the setlist from Sting, Andy and Stuart's portion of the evening. Note the phrase "Third Encore." They played for nearly two hours. These guys are old, but they can still kick out the jams.

Message in a Bottle
Synchronicity 2
Walking on the Moon
When the World is Running Down You Make the Best of What's Still Around
Don't Stand So Close to Me
Driven to Tears
The Bed's Too Big Without You
Truth Hits Everybody
Every Little Thing She Does is Magic
Wrapped Around Your Finger
De Doo Doo Do De Da Da Da
Invisible Sun
Walking in Your Footsteps
Can't Stand Losing You
Roxanne
First Encore:
King of Pain
So Lonely
Second Encore:
Every Breath You Take
Third Encore:
Next To You

Also, I'm going to be performing tomorrow night at the Backdoor Comedy Club's Open Mic night here in Dallas. Come see me if you're in the area.

Didn't Mean A Word Of It

What a great crowd this week at the Loony Bin. Usually "I hate women" is the setup for a joke, not a laugh line. Wow. I should point out, again, that I don't actually hate women. Just so we're clear. In fact, most of what I say on stage is a lie. But don't tell anyone.

You can hear my set, short as it is, right here: Listen

You've Made It Pretty Clear What You Like

I have very little to say today. I will point out that I passed the one year mark at my job last week. Didn't see that one coming. And one of my bosses wants to come see me perform sometime. I just hope she respects me in the morning.

Check out last night's funny trainwreck!

I Know You Love Me, But You're So Fucking Crazy.

I got a kitten last week. She's great. The people at PetSmart named her Winnie, but I call her Po. It's short for POTUS. We're bonding quite well, getting to know each other and all that. Here's a quick rundown of things she doesn't like: my belt; feathers; North Face shoes; my telephone earpiece; carpet; my leg. She's very sweet, though, and I don't think she's quit purring since she's been here.

Also, I had a pretty good set at Othello's this week. Listen, dammit.

Finally, here's the songs I've used for titles of late.

02.21.07
Waiting On A Sunday Afternoon For What I Read Between The Lines
“Interstate Love Song” by Stone Temple Pilots

02.28.07
You've Seen This Bullshit Once Before
“It’s All In The Way That You Trip” by The Prix

03.01.07
I See The Sky Above Me Like A Full Recovery
“What Makes You Happy” by Liz Phair

03.06.07
Tonight I'm Gonna Have Myself A Real Good Time
“Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen

03.07.07
Because I Wanna See People And I Wanna See Life
“There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” (Smiths cover) by Nada Surf

03.08.07
The Present Is A Gift
“Live 4 Today” by Zion I

03.11.07
And You Wonder Why No One's Ever, Ever Talking To You. No One Ever, Ever Needed To.
“D. Boone Free (A Ninth Grade Crime)” by Centro-Matic

03.14.07
You Watched Me Hunt For Tips I Was Obliged To Pick Up From The Passing Trade
“The Fall Of The World’s Own Optimist” by Aimee Mann

03.18.07
Oh, Such A Prima Donna, Sorry For Myself
“Gotta Have You” by The Weepies

03/21/07
There Are Worse Ways For A Guy To Spend His Time
“Rest of My Life” by Rilo Kiley

04.05.07
Shut The Fuck Up
“Nugget” by Cake

04.06.07
Oh, What A Mess. I Wonder Who's Watching Me Now.
“Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell

04.08.07
Spring Came, Rain Fell
“Spring Came, Rain Fell” by Club 8

04.12.07
You Think You're Dialed In? Someone Has To Win. And You Know What That Means? That Means Someone’s Got To Lose. It’s Probably You.
“Cream and Bastards Rise” by Harvey Danger

04.14.07
I'll Keep Digging For Fire
“Digging For Fire” by The Pixies

04.17.07
We Come In, We Go Out The Same Way: Alone.
“What’s Wrong With Alice?” by September 67

04.18.07
Love Is Watching Someone Die
“What Sarah Said” by Death Cab For Cutie

05.02.07
(Bam-A-Lam) Damn Thing Gone Wild (Bam-A-Lam)
“Black Betty” by Ram Jam Band

05.03.07
He Who Fucks Nuns Will Later Join The Church
“Death or Glory” by The Clash

05.09.07
I Know You Love Me, But You're So Fucking Crazy.
“Love Punch” by The Chalets

He Who Fucks Nuns Will Later Join The Church

I feel like I avenged myself tonight. I had a setlist. I had themes. I had callbacks (planned). I had a dead pope joke. By the way, I was feeling reverential this afternoon, and tried to create something that expressed that reverence and respect for God. This is how it turned out. Listen.

By the way, it was Pope Formosus.

(Bam-A-Lam) Damn Thing Gone Wild (Bam-A-Lam)

For the last few weeks, Othello's has been packed. Leah wondered recently if we had created a monster. Perhaps we had. The whole thing had grown and changed in ways we never planned. That's chaos, baby. In fact, last week it was so clogged with people that I didn't even have a seat. It was so loud that I actually shouted "SHUT UP!" at the audience. They didn't shut up, by the way. Then afterwards, Ana told me she was planning to plaster campus and Campus Corner with flyers to try and get more people into the bar. I'm not sure that more people is the answer, but it's not my bar.

I was not really excited about the prospect of more people crowding into the bar tonight, making noise and not paying attention. And as such, I didn't really prepare myself at all. So, I felt like a total douche when a small, attentive crowd showed up for the show. I felt bad about the quality of my performance. Oh, well. I recorded it, though. You can take a listen if you like.

Listen Here

Love Is Watching Someone Die

I felt a lot of love tonight. My friends came out and listened to jokes I had told less than 24 hours before. And they still laughed. The audience wasn't quite as into it, and I don't blame them. I need to write stuff that's more accessible. Really, I don't know what I was thinking. I came up with a minute on a Catholic strip club and I actually thought "this is it! This is universal! This will win them over!"

I just don't understand people.

Listen and/or download it - April 18 2007

You Think You're Dialed In? Someone Has To Win. And You Know What That Means? That Means Someone's Got To Lose. It's Probably You.

Last night I gave a shitty performance. I blame no one but myself. I fucked it up. Pure and simple. I can shake that off pretty easily. I might just have to put down Dog Phone, though. God help me, I love that bit so much, but no one else does. C'est la guerre. I actually got heckled, which was a first for me. I don't see it as a failure, though. I learned some important lessons about taking the performance seriously, and about not expecting too much from the audience. Especially when they've had a few good hours to get drinks in themselves. Like I said, it's pretty easy to shake off.

Tonight at the Loony Bin I gave a great performance. It just wasn't good enough, though. Now that's a shitty feeling. It's times like these that I wish I had never gotten good grades or done well on standardized tests. I'm used to exceeding expectations, and I'm so conditioned to judge myself based on the external validation that comes from other people judging me and deeming my actions awesome. That's what the laughter is all about, right? But let me tell you, comedy is not a standardized test. It isn't a research paper on international media systems. There are no guarantees that your hard work will pay off. It is totally subjective. At the same time, I don't want to downplay the achievements of the (at least) 8 people who were found funnier than me tonight. I got beat. It happens. I'm proud of all my friends that made it to the finals at the Loony Bin, and I'll be there on Sunday to cheer them on. But the overachieving Phi Beta Kappa super-nerd within me is having a nice little identity crisis. And one of the nice things about comedy is that until recently, that square-tied little fucker didn't even know what I was up to. Each time I went up I got laughs or I didn't, and that was it. But in the past couple of weeks it's become about competition. And yeah, I know my perspective would be different if I were one of the 8 finalists competing on Sunday. Well, I'm not sure, actually. I always look forward to performing, even at a sketchy south town strip club. But I was fucking dreading my 5 minutes at the Loony Bin tonight.

Oh well, it's over now. And by the way, I am not fishing for compliments here, nor do I want anyone to try and make me feel better about any of this. I am quite confident in my ability to make people laugh, and I do not want to feel better about losing. I want to cling onto my disappointment and frustration like the last blanket in the Siege of Leningrad.

After all, I've earned it.

Because I Wanna See People And I Wanna See Life

So, last night was the first ever Open Mic Night at Othello's in Norman. It was great. We packed the place, which means we'll get to do it again. March 27th. Mark your calendars. I want to thank everyone who made it out to the show. I know Tuesday is a pretty crappy night for going out, so I really appreciate it. I hope everyone had a good time. I also want to thank the comics who came to perform. We only had seven comics show up, but they were good, so I'll get over it. Also, thanks to Howard, Evan, Anna and Terry at Othello's. I hope you guys made some money.

So, like I said, we'll do this again on March 27th, 2007 at Othello's of Norman.

In the meantime, you can listen to me introducing the evening's festivities.

March 6, 2007 - Download.

You've Seen This Bullshit Once Before

Some old stuff, some new stuff. I think it went well. Not as many laughs as I would like, but I'm not going to be happy unless at least four people piss themselves. Four. Anyway, it was a good crowd, and I was happy to be their first comic of the night.

On Tuesday, however, I will be in Norman, at Othello's, for their brand-spankin' new Open Mic. It's on Campus Corner, near Buchanan and White. It's free, so come check it out. We're starting at 9:30.

In the meantime, I gave birth to an audio file. Congratulations! It's an MP3!