I Should Be Grateful, I Suppose, And Compare You To A Summer's Rose.

One of the most appealing aspects of religion is the way that shitty events get explained away as "God's will," or "the Universe trying to teach us a lesson," or whatever.

It's kinda true, though. Well, I'm not going to go on record either way on the whole is-He-or-isn't-He (or She or It or Them) question, but I have found that shitty events can be made to serve us. Buddhist thought, for instance, finds reasons to be grateful for failure, persecution and violent tragedy, and not just because those experiences help to burn away bad Karma (or sin, if you will). They help individuals to reflect on themselves, their past and the Universe in general. Pretty neat, huh? Most of your non-Odin-based religions have similar tenets, and I'm honestly torn from day to day as to whether or not the lemonade is real or just a means to keep chumps under control.

I got a chance to test it out last week, though. It was Wednesday, and I was on my way to the Loony Bin for the evening show. It's my first time hosting a normal Loony Bin show, and I want it to be great. Part of my ritual, when I can do so, is to feast upon a falafel and hummus from Gyro's Etc. in the shopping center across Rockwell from the Loony Bin. Best falafel ever.

Seriously.

Only sometimes they have trouble with my debit card, and I'm left with no way to pay for said delicious falafel, as I usually don't carry cash (note to muggers: I'm not worth it!). So, I decide to stop at a nearby ATM to get some cash. Now, I'm not going to name the financial institution, so let's just say that their name rhymes with "CHASE RANK." I pull up to their outdoor ATM, put my card into the green blinking card slot, and wait. For those of you curious about what blinking green lights mean, let just tell you, they don't mean "happy to serve you, sir!" The actual meaning is closer to "I'm hungry! Give me your fucking debit card now, asshole! Mmm... yummy debit card! It's mine now, fucker! HA HA HA HA HA!" Some of that is a little idiomatic, but you get the drift.

I am now sans card. I have already established I have no cash. So, I'm left with my checkbook. I might as well be paying people in fucking Confederate Dollars, because the thing has an address from two homes and one city ago. So, great. Thanks CHASE RANK! You guys "rock!"

By the way, if a machine grabs your card and won't give it back, that shit is GONE! No way you will get it back, it gets shredded immediately.

So, I drive to Wal-Mart, where I bank ('cause I'm a high-fuckin' roller!) to cash a check so I can, you know, pay for food and gasoline. I order a new card while I'm there, expecting that I'll have it by the end of the week. No, 5 to 7 days I am told. No, wait, 5 to 7 BUSINESS days. Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?! How hard is it to stamp out a damn card and put it in the mail? Are these things hand-crafted by a one-eyed master back in the Ozarks somewhere? Like, it's just him, a whittlin' knife and a big 'ol block o' plastic, perhaps? Because why else in the world would it take one of the biggest banks in the area a fucking week and a half to replace one lousy DEBIT CARD?!

But I digress.

I get the cash, I get the information, and more importantly, I get a nice dose of hate. It pushes out the nervous, the anxious, the oh-boy-I-gotta-do-good-tonight vibe in my head and replaces it with icy hot anger. I turned in a great performance that night, and like a good little method actor I had that nugget of hate at my disposal for the rest of the week, just smoldering in my back pocket where my debit card used to be.

So thanks, CHASE RANK ATM, you malfunctioning piece of shit. I hope you get struck by lightning.

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.

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!

And I Swear There's Something Evil In The TV

Anyone who has talked to me in the past six months probably knows just how much I like the show Heroes. It's awesome. Watch it. Watch it and then talk to me about it. Seriously.

I love that show for many reasons, not the least of which is Sylar. He has got to be one of the creepiest, most engrossing villains I've ever seen in literature. That's right, I just called a network television series "literature." Deal with it. It's got me thinking about villains, monsters, and antagonists in general. They're a key part to any story. Without villains and their evil machinations, a story is just a series of occurrences. Boring.

When I was in fourth grade we put on a play based on the story of Pecos Bill. There was something wrong with the script, and even I could tell. It took a while to figure out what it was, but eventually I realized that there was no villain. There was no Shere Khan, no Captain Hook, no big ass shark. We had a tornado for a villain. Boring.

I've tried to inject a little antagonism into my comedy. I really can't believe that it took me this long to see the importance of challenging an audience. I'm not there make friends, after all.

Anyway, blah blah blah. I've got a show on Tuesday and Wednesday next week. Blah blah blah. Oh, also, I've got a video in the Tenth Annual Open Film And Video Screening at the IAO this Friday. Seven o'clock, five dollars, eighth and Broadway in downtown Oklahoma City. Good times.

Until then, feast your eyes on one of my greatest award-not-winning performances ever. Watch it. [Late Edit: Yes, Laura, there was no audio. Thanks for letting me know. I've reposted the performance, with audio, and with a clip of me giving a short, shitty interview at the end. "Enjoy."]

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.

I Wanna Stand Up, I Wanna Let Go

You know it's going to be a good set when you're up first and the MC gets your name wrong. Seriously though, I wish I had more time with the audience. Not because I liked them, but rather because I hated them. I hated them because they were cold. They were cold because I was the first comic they had seen that night. It took them a while to warm up, and admittedly my material is not the most accessible and winning stuff you'll hear. People laugh at keywords like "penis," "head," and "Jews." It's like they aren't fully tuned in yet. "Slave Trade" and "seller's remorse" don't really penetrate. Swear to God, if I'm scheduled first next time, it will be four minutes of dying baby impersonations. Maybe it will be baby "Jews" choking on "penises" while giving "head." That's should warm 'em up.

And come see me, Anthony and Leah at the Electric Chair Gallery next month. Those crazy kids over at TheKND are putting together an End-of-Reality-Blowout. Be there, or cease to be.

In the meantime, listen to this shit.

And don't forget Momentum this weekend!