New Idea For A Bar

I think it would be cool if there was a bar where everyone writes down facts about themselves when they walk in and then someone reads all the slips of paper and matches everyone up with people who have similar interests and then when that gets weird you can just come up with an excuse why you have to leave.

The Gym

Going to a strip club can be torture, sure, but going to the gym is way worse. At least when you’re at a strip club you can convince yourself not to fall in love because you wouldn’t want to date a stripper anyway. But at a gym you’re surrounded for the most part by limber, shapely women who live nearby that you already have something in common with. Asking out a girl at the gym could actually lead to something. Asking a stripper out just gets the bouncer called over and a text message sent to her mother back in Russia.

To make matters worse the gym girls also bend their bodies into all sorts of confusing and desirable positions. And just in case one image and angle of her body isn’t enough the gym has conveniently installed 600 mirrors to thoroughly challenge and overwhelm your self restraint.

There’s nothing worse than getting busted checking out a girl through a complicated sequence of mirror angles. You think you’ve got them down so she can’t see you but guess what your perversion is still detectable through three triangulated mirror angles. Front mirror to side mirror to back mirror—“Yep, I see your eyes sweaty man.”

I always like laying down in the mat area set aside for ab workouts. Because that’s really the only place in polite society where you can spot a woman lying down and walk over, spread out a towel, and lie down next to her. Laying down the towel sends her a subtle but clear message that you’re willing to clean up afterward if things get out of hand. That never works at a mattress store or inside her studio apartment. I’m officially adding “laying down a towel on the floor” to the erotic behavior handbook.

Sometimes I wonder if the social barriers we all erect and maintain cause more trouble than comfort. It would be nice to be in a room full of people and have some sort of box pop up above everyone’s heads that explains what you have in common and the likelihood that a friendship or relationship could develop. Which I suppose is the impetus behind online dating. Everyone gets a profile so they can understand more about the other person going into it. But that system hasn’t established a clear path to more effective pairings. So can’t there be some socially normal middle ground? Not the forced calculations of matchmaking services. Rather, a consensus that everyone lets their guard down more in public settings and becomes less averse to interacting. Not the freaks, mind you. The regular people.

I say that but if someone talks to me at the gym I’m not happy about it. The social barriers are there for a reason—so we can get things done and live our lives in peace. In conclusion, hot girls at the gym should strike up conversations with me so that I can channel my leering tendencies into something more productive like complimenting them on still smelling fairly amazing after an hour long workout.

Thoughts about thinking

I think it’s important to be able to have a conversation about an opinion that you don’t agree with and have the conversation end in something other than a full throated rebuttal of that opinion. It seems like people have certain topics around which they are very attached to their ideas and are firmly devoted to defending them. But that’s no fun and certainly never leads to anyone getting smarter or expanding their mind. If I was suddenly transported to an intellectual battlefield and had to choose between having conversations with the people hunkered down in deep trenches or the people pacing the field, looking for new terrain or advantages or discoveries, it’s not even a contest. At the end of the conversation with the guy in the trench you might know more about what he thinks but what he thinks isn’t going to change. The girl pacing around looking for new things will have more stories and will join you on a ledge, so to speak, where you both look out over a vast unknown and ponder and conjecture and seek new information. I’m not saying it will get you laid but it makes for better stories later.

I’m more focused on being intellectually curious than finding additional support props for my existing beliefs. Because the farther down the “defending my ideas” road you go the more stringent and vitriolic becomes your tone. Plus you’ve got all these other people that align with your beliefs and have formed organizations to advance them. It’s easy to fall in step with that crowd and they give you a sense of power and authority. But I think in reality there’s a lot more hubris to be had in the world than beliefs that will be defensible over any extended period of time.

Also, I recognize that I’m advocating a particular approach to thinking. So you could say that I’m merely advocating one more system of beliefs to compete with the others that I’m critiquing. I mean isn’t there a game or something you could be watching?

Fireworks

I feel like we’ve gone as far as we can go with fireworks technology. The big thing I’ve seen recently is shapes. “Ooh a square!” Glad we packed a cooler for this.

Moving to Florida!

So I’m seven years old living in Ohio and my mom keeps telling me soon I’m going to be a Floridian. All I know about Florida is that they have palm trees and beaches. So I assumed we’d be living right on the beach with palm trees everywhere. Vollyeball, sand dollars, what have you. Only problem with that scenario is we were dirt fucking poor at the time. And guess what--Poor people don’t live on the beach. I lived in Florida for 11 years and probably went to a beach like five times. Here’s a fun lesson for kids: Poor people live inland.

Moral fortitude

If you can listen to your upstairs neighbors have sex and not masturbate, you’re a better man than I.

Old ideas

Sometimes I look at old stuff I've written and think "What? That wasn't very funny. More odd than anything." Case in point:

It’s pretty gay to eat a tuna burger even though it sounds straight.

Girls Night Out

There’s a big difference between Girls Night Out and Guys Night Out. Girls love Girls Night Out. They’re like “Oh my god you guys let’s get dressed up and go out it’s going to be so much fun!” The only time guys have Guys Night Out is if we can’t get any girls to go with us. And then the only objective of Guys Night Out is to end it as quickly as possible by finding some girls.

Romantic idea?

An ex girlfriend once said “You know, if you ever wake up in the middle of the night and want to have sex just wake me up. I won’t mind at all.” I was like “You mean in the middle of the night when I’ve already been asleep for a few hours? Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Hanging out with couples

It’s always a little weird hanging out with married couples or couples that have been together a long time. They have this long, tortured history between them that you don’t know about. And then you somehow accidentally stumble into one of their relationship sore spots without realizing it.

I might mention “I’m the oldest of four children.” To which the wife will respond “Four children? Must be nice. I’d settle for one.” Husband: “One would be nice if we could afford it but we can’t.” Wife: “We can afford it, he just doesn’t want to move to the suburbs and be away from his pot dealer.”

Um, do you guys mind if I get out of here? I'm just going to find the closest bar.

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Married couples

It’s always a little weird hanging out with married couples. They have this long, tortured history between them that you don’t know about. And then you somehow accidentally stumble into one of their relationship sore spots without realizing it.

I’m like “I’m the oldest of four children actually.” To which the wife will respond “Four children? Must be nice. I’d settle for one.” Husband: “One would be nice if we could afford it but we can’t.” Wife: “We can afford it, he just doesn’t want to move to the suburbs and be away from his pot dealer.”

Um, do you guys mind if I get out of here? I'm just going to find the closest bar.

Growing up as the oldest of four kids was cool but I feel like I’ve already raised 3 kids. My ex wanted to have kids and I didn’t so I went to talk to a therapist to make sure it wasn’t because I’m fucked up. The therapist told me I shouldn’t have had to spend my youth taking care of children and to go out and act youthful today to make up for it. So let me get this straight—you’re telling me to blow off marriage, get drunk a lot, and screw random girls? That is the kind of mental healthiness I can commit to Doc.

Joke ideas

Little medley of ideas. Not sure they have legs but will probably try a few.

• Ever notice how you suddenly lose respect for the program you’re watching when you’re about to turn off the TV? You’re watching the news and they’re like “Police reports indicate that” (Click) “Nobody gives a shit.”

• Like going out to eat since I never cook and don’t know how to. I don’t like when they list every single ingredient in every single dish on the menu. Look obviously I don’t understand that shit that’s why I’m here.” I don’t know what the fuck shallot or shallow is. Some big special onion or some shit.

• Some girls are knowledgeable about sports and that’s awesome. But the funny ones are the ones that don’t know anything about sports. Those are the girls you should talk to. According to my friend Kat, there are two levels of football-college football and regular.

Only compliment people in a robot voice.

Straight girls chasing gay guys

There are few things more entertaining than watching straight girls futilely chase gay guys. You can see this one coming from a mile away at a straight bar. The dance floor has formed a circle around one amazing dancer. This guy is smooth, he’s fluid, he’s wearing a vest, he’s got 21 Jump Street gloves on. And the straight girl he’s with is trying to get pregnant just by looking at him.

Then we move to Stage 2. Another gay man enters the bar and makes a beeline for her gay friend. Now she has to stand there and watch their amazing chemistry, the chemistry she hoped would one day be her own. I’m just waiting for her friend to turn to her and say “What part of ‘I have gloves on’ didn’t you understand?”

Women

Here’s the problem I have. I meet a girl. She’s nice, funny, pretty. I kind of like her. We get along. Then time and a bit of ennui kick in and I end up meeting a few of her friends. This is also the time when things start going south. Liking The Friend. If you meet a woman and there is some level of perceived interest by both parties the man must NEVER at that point start to like any of her friends. You chase the original girl or you risk breaching the rules. But hey, I don’t think this is fair! Just because you meet a particular person before you meet another particular person doesn’t mean you can only have a romantic liaison with the first person. Right?

I know what I am writing is futile. It doesn’t matter. It only matters what the women in question think about the situation. Which is usually along the lines of “I thought you liked me, asshole.” Or alternately “I thought you liked my friend, asshole.” Or “Neither one of us can remember your name and are frightened you wrote a blog post about us, asshole.” All of these sentences share a common noun denominator.

I’m not suggesting the Roommate Swap. You obviously can’t date one girl and then try to date her friend. (I was going to type “score her friend” but that’s just misogynistic and should only be spoken aloud, not typed.) I’m simply suggesting there is nothing wrong with thinking “This girl seems great but after further review her friend might be a better match for me.” Not that her friend is better or prettier or a greater prize--hear the important distinction I’m making here, girls? We can all agree with my sound, sensitive, and convincing logic.

This is actually one of the more entertaining aspects of heterosexual dating. What guys want in their heads versus what girls will actually allow. And don’t kid yourself—the girls are running the show. Maybe there’s a relatively small pool of attractive men that girls cede power to on account of hotness but overall the women are running the casino. You can’t beat the house. (Skipping the insensitive, crass joke here. Take note, hot friend!)

To review, if you and I are still in the Friend Zone I should be allowed to like your friend. Without repercussions. Unless we’ve made out. Which, let’s face it—we haven’t. So until that time all bets are off.

Please? Can all bets be off? No? Can I at least graze your friend's hip in casual conversation then? Would that be allowed?

The Browns

It’s tough being a Browns fan. Even when the Browns win the story line is usually something like “Well, the Browns won today but they played really awful and everyone is in agreement that they still suck.”

Drinking

People obviously drink for a lot of reasons. Such as to socialize or speed along death. One advantage of drinking is that it tends to slow the world down a bit. Normally you can try to think about five things at once. When you’re drunk, sometimes the most you can hope for is to keep up in the conversation you’re having. Drinking lowers inhibitions but it also justifies being a little more dumb than you usually are. I’m holding my drink, I’m talking to this person, and I want to have sex with them. That’s when active listening really kicks in. Focusing on what someone else is saying can also help keep you from blacking out.

Although I guess you could make the contrary argument that alcohol decreases your ability to focus and really listen to what someone is saying. And we all know who makes those kind of arguments. Sober killjoys that aren’t getting laid. I’m not getting laid either. That’s not the point here. I don’t see why this has to be about my sexual prowess all of a sudden. No one’s asking you to read this Mr. I Have Sex Four Times A Day.

First time I stole something

I really enjoy shoplifting. Well, I did. All you have to do is walk into the Sports Authority and then stick the Lakers shorts in the front of the shorts you’re wearing and then walk out all smooth like. The key is to act like nothing bad is going down. It’s just your average, run of the mill 15 year old spending 10 minutes in Sports Authority and walking out with a big clump by his stomach. I didn’t get caught though.

Then one time at the mall I stole a Hurricanes’ hat. I bought other stuff thus confusing the store employees. This guy clearly isn’t shoplifting, he bought something. But look, there! On the bottom of my bag! You guys didn’t ring that one up. $15 down the drain suckers.

I only stole a few things as a teenager. Later I shifted into a much more subtle mode that banked on people perceiving me as a responsible adult. All you do for this method is stick your 12 pack of Mountain Dew in the bottom rack of the grocery cart and then forget that it’s there. You didn’t steal—you just forgot to ring something up. Even if you get busted you can attribute it to absent mindedness. No 34 year old man would steal soda would he? Oh yes, he would. It keeps him alive.

Girlfriend Fine With Doing That If That's What You Really Want To Do

Coming soon

Something about how when I was a kid I thought God was talking to me in my head and then one day I realized "Oh wait that's me." I made up an entire deity. I think if it was really God he would have thrown in some words I didn't know and I would have had to run and grab a dictionary.

How Disney World works

Here’s how Disney World got to be so popular. You get married. Then you’re like “Uh what are we going to do?” “I don’t know. Let’s watch TV.” So then you watch TV together and you get fat. Then you’re like “Now what?” “I don’t know, let’s fuck.” So then you fuck and then you have kids.

Then the kids are sitting in the living room bored. How do you entertain them? Same way you entertained yourself. Turn on the TV and watch this Disney shit. Then the kids get fat too. Then the kids are like “Disney World looks awesome! I want to go there!” So you gather up your fat family and you take them to Disney World. Then when you get there you’re like “Holy shit this is really cool but we have to walk everywhere! This sucks!” And that’s why Disney World is crammed with thousands of fat families complaining about all the walking and dying to get back to their hotel room to watch TV.

Baseball

I like baseball because it's the only major sport where there's a distinct chance a cat may run onto the field at any time.

Toothbrush

I spent the night at a girl’s house once and asked her if she had a toothbrush I could borrow. She handed me one and said “Don’t worry, it’s only been used once.” I never buy that.

Women

If I've learned anything about women, it's that I like to think about women. And observe them. Including their bodies. What I've observed is that I don't do well with all women. Or most. What I do well with are women that are bored. If you've got nothing else to do and you've been stirring your drink while staring at the wall for the past 20 minutes--That's where I shine. Hey there, stranger. Mind if I sit a spell?

As long as you're not a total dickbag most girls don't mind talking to you if they're at the end of their rope. Now, Johnny, now.

Trip Called Off On Account Of Gayness

Religion

Blasphemy warning!

I don't believe in any particular religion. This stance, while dangerous for my purported soul, allows me a great vantage point from which to observe and analyze religious practices without being influenced by their heart tugging messages.

When you step back from it all, you start to see how religions seek power and sway over groups of people. Most coat their underlying commandeering tone with notions of altruism, self worth, and self enhancement. And who doesn't like those concepts?

But as a mainly disinterested religious anthropologist, I really enjoy coming across examples of how religious people used to speak a long time ago. Not specific Bible verses--I'm referring to how these people viewed the world and its inhabitants. They latched onto a particular lens of reality and then used that lens as a hammer against anything they didn't like or that frightened them. Anything that challenged their group's dominance and rightful place in the world.

Some of this is certainly warranted. Groups of people want to be safe and have land on which to raise their families and eke out a living. Nothing wrong with that. But when the power grab goes beyond self protection and assertion, that's when things get interesting. And funny.

I recently read an article about Hawaii's history. Hawaiian Mormons apparently really do not like the Catholic church. Specifically, they describe the Catholic church as the Whore of Babylon. The Whore of Babylon! What a fantastically overwrought and mean spirited thing to say. I love it.

I don't love it because I dislike the Catholic church. I love it because of its unabashed piss and vinegar and its aspirational qualities. Think of the power inherent in such a proclamation. Not only is your group of people wrong in your beliefs but your group is the Whore of Babylon.

What does that even mean? There's still a place called Babylon? And when you go there it has a whore? And the whore is an entire church? Who is sleeping with this whore? Not Mormons I hope! Because if you're a Mormon Babylonian and you go out and get a hooker and your wife finds out you fucked the Whore of Babylon, man is there going to be hell to pay. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Whores of Other Cities.

It's so ridiculous. This idea that your group of people is a whore and my group of people is going to heaven. How could any Catholic ever respect or engage with Hawaiian Mormons? This blanket statement eliminates dialogue and understanding. It's similar to Iran saying Israel should be wiped off the map. It's just a preposterous, unwarranted, selfish thing to say. It's an unvarnished power grab.

I'm not just picking on Hawaiian Mormons. Most all religions have some version of this. We have the right way to heaven. Yours is inferior. How convenient. What a great way to set up a life for yourself that you can rest assured is the best route to happiness here and eternal paradise afterwards. I'm surprised an advertising agency didn't come up with the concept of "eternal paradise." I'm sure they would have had they existed thousands of years ago. Heady stuff.

Why stress yourself with doubt and uncertainty? Let a man bestowed with religious authority come up with weekly lessons on how to live when things get cloudy and stressful. Because without religion guiding your ship you'd be left to figure life out on your own. You'd have to come to terms with death and illness and tragedy without a great big pretty story to make it all palatable. You'd be forced to develop mental strength on your own. Independently.

But hey, if things get lonely out there on your own I know this really hot slut up in Babylon.

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Goals

While debating a cute bartender on whether or not it's possible for tater tots to fuel an uncontrollable rage a friend and I started talking about Life Goals. Which made me realize my Life Goals for the next year are pretty ridiculous. And by ridiculous I mean awesome.

1. Just try to spend a lot of time drinking and looking around
2. Find fun sports games to play and win by a lot
3. Come up with joke ideas and ecards that everyone in America will love and pay money for
4. Try to develop a comedy career while simultaneously not giving a shit and doing it just for the fun of it
5. Find new bars and restaurants to talk to people in
6. Meet a bunch of chicks
7. Check out some movies and TV shows
8. Walk around New York and think "This is pretty tight."

Seems reasonable. Oh, tack on something about charity if you must. You know, the kind of thing where an event organizer tells you proceeds go to a worthy cause and you're like "Yeah, that's cool. This is open bar, right?"

Man Conducts Five Simultaneous Leisure Activities In Failed Bid To Stave Off Loneliness

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Stand Up Video

Three months later I've conned a friend into getting a stand up performance I did onto YouTube. It was a two minute performance at the American Comedy Institute "graduation" ceremony. Here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbdEOuRWQ3g

Blog Title

You like that don't you? Entertaining strangers with words. That's a good phrase. I got it off of the back of a book called "And Here's The Kicker" where one dude interviews a bunch of comedy writers about why they're successful and why people reading the book suck.

We'll have to find some other use for "Sorcery Among The Populace." Maybe a New England witch cult can revive it. By the way I'm not in favor of children joining witch cults if that's what you were thinking.

iPhone Application

Rest assured I won't be installing the LinkedIn application for my iPhone anytime soon. The day I can't wait to log in to my work computer to get some business networking done is the day I shoot myself in the back of the head.

I guess I'll make an exception for people job hunting so I only come across as 75% asshole. Other than that, if you're walking around town trying to join a San Francisco area Java networking group on your iPhone and I see you I am going to splash puddle water on you and your phone and then haul ass. Left in my wake will be you, a dork.

Sunday paper

At 10 p.m. on Sunday I walked by a forlorn newspaper sitting on the step of the church across the street. Sad, I thought, that the whole day went by and no one thought to grab the paper as they walked by. No one cared enough to want to read. A telling commentary on our intellectually averse society.

Then I realized "Well, maybe they didn't want to steal from a church." Now who's the asshole Danny? That's right. You are. By you I mean me. I assume you picked up on that.

Getting punched

I think one of the most surprising things I've enjoyed about living in New York City is the chance to kick my own ass a bit. I'm certainly susceptible to getting comfortable and leaving it at that. But here I've forced myself to go out and try and screw up and suck and feel bad and recover. It's addictive. The metaphor I run against again and again is getting punched in the mouth. I like getting my ass kicked (metaphorically) from time to time. It's easy to sit back and assess and critique everything that the media and content creators present to us. But when we are the ones creating the entertainment the burden of enjoyment suddenly rests on our shoulders. If you suck it's because you sucked not because upper management cut your budget in half. It's not because of external factors. It's because of you. Or because you haven't quite figured out the winning formula yet. That's the beauty of stand up. If you succeed you own the success and accolades 100%. It's not an ensemble. It's high risk high reward. Which is why I'm getting out of it starting right now. Kidding. I think.

As much as it hurts to not feel like your ideas were well received, at the end of the night you can pat yourself on the back for putting your ideas out there. You gave it a shot. That in itself I feel falls within the blurry exterior lines of art. Maybe it doesn't but hey there's a decent chance it does.

Something to think about

This is probably too evil but hopefully no one cares on the Internet.

I’m personally not afraid of midgets but I know people that are. Friend of mine is pregnant and she’s terrified her baby will be a midget. So she went to the doctor and asked him, “Excuse me, can you tell me at what stage you can tell if the baby is going to be a midget?"

Doctor: "Ah ma'am we're getting into the midget detection phase of your pregnancy. Basically we're going to do a sonogram and if you hear us start snickering that means your baby is a midget."

If you don't like banana cream pie then you are crazy

This is the best Facebook group yet. Please join and spread the word.

I am having sexual relations with my iPhone

I don't know when it started I just know that it did and I'm happy and there's no turning back. I don't expect you to understand it and I don't want you to understand it because if you understood it then it wouldn't be ours alone.

Texting girls

I never use exclamation points when texting guys. But girls? Sure, throw it in there. Why not add enthusiasm to the message? Generally they're fine with it.

I don't know if Conan and I are okay right now to be honest with you

You think you know someone. You spend more night in his arms than any woman's. Night after night he tells you a couple jokes, makes fun of himself enough to be endearing, and gives you a giggle. And then one morning you wake up and he's...he's gone. He just up and left, something big came up in LA, he couldn't turn it down. Now, just when things were so good, so right. Somehow over the course of years you let your guard down and let him in. It's hard to forget when he first arrived. Those days still make me smile. I was wary, shy, confused. He's not like the others I've had. He's so silly. Will it last with all these antics? Would he stop being so nervous around me already? I'm not going to bite you. I just want to laugh with you. And then he did it. He made me laugh. He did some things I'll never forget, that much is sure. His little voices and bits, they were different, they were new, they were weird. He was encouraging weird. Encouraging risk. Encouraging self consciousness. It was exciting. It was exhilarating, frankly.

Once my guard was down I started to admire him. I looked forward to what he'd think up next. It became inspiring. Instead of cringing I was leaning forward. I was embracing him.

And then over time, I don't know how to explain it even. It just happened. He became important. A friend. Someone I could trust. I could sometimes understand what he was about to say by looking at his face. Just like with any good lover.

So when LA came up I tried to put it out of my mind. Maybe if I don't think about it won't happen. But New York was so him. New York was a party his best friend threw where everyone knew him and wanted to hang out. What was so great about the new life in LA, and where would it leave us?

But you know what, after awhile I got excited about his new adventure. Hell, maybe it is like they say. If you love someone, let them go.

Those days are gone now. He's been in LA for what seems like an eternity and well, I'm holding up alright. I try not to think about it too much, what we had. Who knows, maybe we still have it and we're just not in the same city anymore. Maybe he shaped me, molded me in ways that prepared me to be on my own in ways I don't even understand. Oh god, here I go again. I've got to start keeping it under control. Maybe the new Conan will be just as good as the old. But deep down, I'll always miss that one. Guess I'm sentimental like that.

Day drinking

No.

Blog Title

I was jogging along the Hudson River waterfront recently when I overheard someone say the phrase "sorcery among the populace." I have no idea what they were talking about but I do recognize a cool phrase when I see one. I don't believe in sorcery and I certainly don't believe in it occurring among the citizens but I do like phrases that can't be easily defined so yeah let's go with that.

Assorted thoughts

Growing up in a religious environment imbues you with certain perceptions of the external world. One in particular that I remember goes something like this: "Now there’s Christians like us. Real Christians. Then there’s people that just say they’re Christians. They talk the talk but they don’t really live it." I always prided myself on spotting these people. There’s one over there now. Look at him just sitting there, not giving a shit about his parents. I should go hold the door open for that old lady--I bet God would really notice that.

Masculinity is an interesting subject. Now that mainstream views on homosexuality have shifted I think it’s forcing a lot of straight men to re evaluate how acceptable behavior is defined. For example, if you go out to a bar and meet a great girl the first thing you do is tell your friends “Oh my god I met this great girl: She’s cute and funny and we really hit it off.” But as of this writing you can’t say the same stuff when you meet a guy. “Oh my god last night I met the most amazing man. We were talking about sports and religion and I was like ‘Oh my god I totally hope we become friends.’"

I get irritated when my cell phone breaks. It doesn’t have a cord and lets me make calls anywhere in the world. Meanwhile, my grandparents chipped ice off Lake Erie to heat so they could take a bath. As Louis C.K. points out we have nothing to complain about.

There are probably better ways to spend your time on the Internet than using the Wendy’s store locator. But I need to know what my Wendy’s options are no matter what zip code I’m in. Go ahead and bookmark it: http://www.wendys.com/

I never wanted to go to England before because I heard the bars close at 11. Then someone told me that’s just the pubs—nightclubs stay open later. So now I want to go.

If I was a teacher I’d chew gum every day even though my students wouldn’t be allowed to. “My job is to prepare you for the real world. Other people have shit you don’t. Get used to it.”

And finally a quote from our friend Woody Harrelson:

"I wrapped a movie called 'Zombieland,' in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character," Harrelson said in a statement issued Friday by his publicist.
"With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie," he said.

Quite understandably indeed.

Joke ideas

Some ideas I might try to turn into jokes...



I've watched black guys use the pickup technique of “I’m not going to put up with any of your bullshit tonight” to amazing effect.

I’m barely able to remember which friends of mine have kids. That’s one level of knowledge. Then the next level is knowing their names. I suck at that too. But at least names are constant. Then the third level is knowing how old the kids are. That’s really unfair since it changes. Just a heads up to anyone I’ve ever met—I have no idea how old your kids are. Please don’t expect me to know that.

Girls’ FB status updates. Amanda “knows that every ending, no matter how sad, is another beginning.” Uh what? Shut up!

Hubris in the workplace. Every company thinks they hire the best and the brightest. We all came from the same pool of schools, we’re all “learning something new every day” while “having fun wherever possible.” Every employer says the same thing and wants the same thing. It just creates a big sea of anonymity. Even if you’re a high performer you’re lauded for conforming to a well established standard mold. Excellence in business, at least below the most senior levels (and with creative businesses a possible exception), is really an exercise in conformity.

Go to someone’s house and they offer you a drink and you want to be polite and not make them get you a drink so you say “Oh thanks but I’m fine.” From that second on you’re overwhelmed by the most intense thirst known to man and you’ve got no one but yourself to blame.

How girls get indignant if you don’t remember their name if you’ve only met them 3 times. “You don’t even remember my name do you?”

I don’t think it’s fair that parents get to put up pictures of their kids in the office. I think single people should be able to put up pictures of liquor bottles they just polished off or all the movies they’ve made it through in their Netflix queue or a blurry picture of a hot, random hook up from 3 months ago.

Friend of mine clarified she’s not racist against all minorities. Just the ones that are really loud.

There’s definitely a point in public where you realize “Everyone around me hates me right now.” (Blocking elevator door)

Head shots

One of the awkward and inescapable aspects of a career in comedy is the specter of ego. I would imagine most comics want to be perceived as the happy go lucky, likable person everyone can relate to. Cracking jokes in the corner long enough can eventually lead to the spotlight--instead of cracking up with a few buddies you try it out on a crowd of strangers. But still, the congenial and sincere everyman seems to be an abiding archetype within the field.

So it was with some trepidation I stepped into a stranger's photography studio on West 39th St. this afternoon. What the hell is this--I'm going to prance and pose for some dude? My only real hope before the session began was to avoid any encounter that could potentially lead to man rape. About 10 minutes in I desperately wished I had booked a session with a female photographer. A man photographing another man for an hour? That kind of shit wouldn't fly in the neighborhood I grew up in.

But the guy seemed nice and I quickly realized that like most other people I've met in New York City he was pursuing a passion and wanted to capture something great on film. Which is why I then forfeited my session to a hot girl. No. Anyway, after evaluating the sad little collection of "outfits" I'd brought (four shirts I thought weren't too wrinkled) we decided to start with some nudes and take it from there. No. Thankfully he was fine with one of the shirts as I had no desire to change more than once in front of another man with a camera nearby. Despite my post adolescent acceptance of the gay lifestyle deep down I'm still a paranoid straight kid evaluating how the neighborhood bullies are interpreting my every move.

Before we start he tells me he's going to step out for a moment. I ask if this is the part where he gets three guys with machine guns and they come back and rob me. It's not. It's the part where he smokes a little dope before we get started. I can't prove this but my trained nose tells me this is exactly what happened. At first I'm jealous. Then I realize a photo session with a man is bad enough sober. High would have been a disaster. I'm not sure my Dad could handle looking at a head shot of his oldest son stoned while being photographed by a man. That's just not what he set out to accomplish.

Now I'm not doing something right with my back. Or my neck. Look natural, damnit. Put your hand on this chair, cross your legs, lean against the ledge near the open window, chin down more. I scold myself briefly for not being able to contort my body the way this man wants me to. God this all sounds so gay.

I'm just being a silly goose. The guy was straight. So straight in fact that we entered into one of those discussions where in the back of my head I think "God I'm glad no girl can hear this." He asks me if I want to hear one of his theories. Yes, I want to hear any and all theories. It involves the ideal age for men and women to just go ape shit on each other sexually. For women, apparently, they have so many eggs just dying to be fertilized at age 26. The beautiful part, you see, is they don't even know it. All they know is that they are horny but we, the savvy men, know the real story. Men, for our part, intrinsically understand once we hit our forties that our prostates are dying and so we want to use up as much of its product as possible before the grave swallows erotic pleasure once and for all.

Hence 26 year old girls and 42 year old men are a combustible combination just itching to be paired up by Eros and his sentimental counterpart. Something tells me 42 year old men are much more in favor of this arrangement than 26 year old women. Anyway, it's a theory and is exactly the kind of theory guys like to discuss with each other. Left unattended guys often ponder two main questions: 1) How can we understand the dynamics of female sexuality? and 2) How can we take advantage of this without their knowledge? But this is no surprise.

After about an hour of pictures I'm desperate to stop. Don't we have enough already? How many do we have? 260. Outside of this session I don't think I own 260 pictures of myself from birth through today. For god's sake we have to find something decent in the 260. And even if we don't let's cut our losses and go back outside on the street where tough people are near.

Left unattended the desire for a perfect head shot could spiral into all other sorts of vain pursuits. If the comedy thing does work out I hope to be known as a sincere, direct, humble person who tells the truth in a funny way. So let's just get a few decent shots, get them printed, and never speak of this again.

Always be happy and striving to get better

This from the Texas Rangers broadcasters during tonight's Rangers-Indians game. Not bad fellas.

Up in a tree

Below is basically a verbatim exchange from my stand up class tonight. In other words don't be hating on my grammar and sentence structure. It's late goddamnit. Thank you. Sorry for swearing.

So we had a comedy manager (Rick Dorfmann) review our stand up tonight and give us insight on the industry. He had some interesting things to say about my jokes. Which right now are basically just a random smattering of things I've found amusing. I told him "It's just a bunch of things I think are funny." To which he replied "I know. What you gotta do is take all those things you think are funny and put them through your filter. So you've gotta figure out what that filter is. Figure out the nucleus of the character and then take all these things and push them through from that perspective. There are a couple of themes coming through and I'm not sure what is true and what isn't."

Our course teacher Steve Rosenfield chimed in "Really figure out who you are. The subject is you. What is the material that you telling will bring something to the game that somebody else wouldn't have. Your material should hold up a picture of yourself so people can say 'We get this guy.'"

Rick continued "It's a common denominator thing. Everything should line up in the same place. How do you see yourself?" We were discussing a joke where I describe myself as lazy but actually I don't see myself that way most of the time. I said "I feel like I'm pretty hard working but I'm not doing the thing I want to be doing right now so I get bored with it."

"So do that" he said. "Switch the perspective of the joke from 'I'm lazy' to 'I'm lost. I'm not where I want to be'. That's a good theme. Go down that road. 'I'm a little bit lost. I'm working. I'm a part of society. But I'm not happy because I want to be doing this and I have no idea how to get there'. Put yourself up a tree and throw rocks at yourself."

This exchange crystallized the struggle I imagine any aspiring comic goes through. Who am I? What do I have to say? Can I just say things I think are funny or do I need to establish an identity with the audience? What is my lens, my filter? How can I bring a sense of cohesiveness to my material? What unified DNA will become evident as I speak?

I like the idea of tying the search for personal identity to the search for comedy material. What a great way to explore life and your place in the world--by connecting yourself to others in a (hopefully) funny way. Not to say "finding yourself" has to be achieved before you can be a successful comic. I'm sure there are plenty of "lost" comics out there. But at least the paths to personal and comic identity look like they're connected.

And I don't really feel like I'm "lost." I felt lost after a break up several years ago. But I don't now. Not as much anyway. I think moving to New York and really taking the comedy path seriously have been indications that I'm moving in the right direction for my life. But it does make sense that I'm at a crossroads. The promise and daunting nature of the new versus the comfort and accompanying restlessness of the old.

This post itself is evidence that I like the direction my life is going in. I'm taking things seriously and trying to achieve something extraordinarily difficult. It's certainly a far cry from the traditional path a lot of 33 year olds are on--wife and kids, comfortable home, career track job. And that path does appeal to me and I respect those following it. But I still have this nudge pushing me in another direction for some reason. I get lots of encouragement from people around me for going down this path which is just so nice to have. If you're reading this you're probably one of those people, so thanks.

And hell maybe there isn't a big golden lesson or insight I'm after. Maybe it's just a series of small, incremental pieces of growth. That don't culminate in anything larger or more profound. Maybe each piece just shifts you in a slightly different direction akin to the disk sliding down the Plinko board.

I mean what is the point really? Of any career? Of any life? Can it all be summed up in "serving others" or "personal enlightenment" or a blissful faith or any other Answer? What do you do when you find yourself? Is finding yourself actually desirable? Don't the muddling through and the uncertainty and the discomfort compel you to keep learning and growing?

I seem to be rebelling against the premise of finding yourself. But that really wasn't their point. I embrace the concept of figuring out the nucleus of who you are and pushing things through that filter. What is the nucleus today and how does it inform my (or your) perspective? I think it's a great question for anyone to think through.

The thing I like most about where I'm at with comedy today is I can see the pieces on the board now. I don't know their exact shape or how they fit together but I know they exist and it's up to me to slide them together. That's invigorating.

And yes, I referenced Plinko. Seamlessly I might add.

Time and the Bottle

Fun article:

http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/30/time-and-the-bottle/#more-219


But drinking was also an excuse to devote eight consecutive hours to sitting idly around having hilarious conversations with friends, and I am still not convinced there is any better possible use of our time on earth. Lately, in these more temperate years, I’m reminded of Shakespeare’s Henry plays after Falstaff has died; it’s as if, having put riotous youth behind, there’s now a place in life for things like dignity and honor and even great accomplishment — but it also feels, sometimes, as if everything best and happiest and most human has gone out of the world.

Reasons to dance

If you’re in a group of mostly single people and are wondering what the real dynamics are between everyone just get people on the dance floor. That’s where all the emotions and desires immediately bubble to the surface. You can figure out which guy wants to mack on which girl and instantly gauge the girl’s reaction to his ploy. It’s also a great way to figure out if a girl likes you or not. If you’re dancing with another girl and she makes painstaking efforts not to watch or participate you could be onto something. Or you could be a self absorbed narcissist who can’t read women’s body language for shit. Either way at least you’re out dancing.

I really hope that last sentence came across less gay than it sounds. But it didn’t. And by gay I mean “something that doesn't offend you.” Your life was probably better off before you read this.

Liberation of thought

One of my favorite Simpsons' moments is when Lisa inspires Principal Skinner to lean below his desk and press the Independent Thought Alarm button. At first glance it might appear to be a misguided barb--educational institutions are designed to teach children about intellectual rigor and the development of their creative capacities. So why would a successful product of the system be cause for alarm?

When I was, uh, I don't know how old--let's say 14--I attended a Christian school sponsored summer camp near Weeki Wachi Springs in central Florida. The actual springs have mermaids--an attraction wildly inappropriate for devout junior high students. Half women half fish don't mesh well with Christian orthodoxy. Nearby we focused on normal camp activities followed by evening entertainment and an altar call. Our church pastor concocted a week long series of skits where he played a soldier in the Civil War writing home to his forlorn but devoted wife. Something like that. It was pretty impressive to us kids. Probably one of our first exposures to a theatrical performance.

After the Civil War drama dovetailed nicely into a lesson about being a better Christian, the pastor who I believe we called "Brother Ferris" would lead us in prayer. With great urgency he'd try to convince us to come forward to the altar and publicly commit to the teachings of the evening. To ensure privacy he'd repeat the familiar mantra "Every head bowed every eye closed" in a voice charged with passion and pathos.

The first night Brother Ferris asked us to read our Bibles every day. I was already doing that and strongly in favor of continuing so I stepped forward. After evading a Union soldier ambush on Night Two he pleaded with us to love our parents with all of our hearts. Can't argue that one.

But on Night Three something changed. Brother Ferris asked us to pledge to Jesus not to have sex until we were married. Believe me, this was not an active dilemma in my life at the time. And based on the reception girls at camp gave me it wasn't going to be an issue in the foreseeable future.

I didn't really know what sex was. I had no carnal urge to spread my adolescent seed. But something about that commitment to austerity gave me pause. I sat there breaking a rule by staring at my folded hands.

This was the year I would win Junior Boy Camper of the Week. Still have the trophy. As far as I could tell I was a model Christian. Fully committed with no hesitations. I'd witnessed door to door. But I got stuck on this one.

What if I don't get married for a long time? What if I want to learn about sex before then? How could I commit my future to a principle? As others around me awkwardly slipped out to the altar I stayed. I knew the altar call would end soon. I'd never not gone up at camp. What am I doing? What does this mean if I don't commit?

We were dismissed back to our cabins. There are many ways to divide a life into before and afters. For me, that altar call was probably the most influential inflection point I've ever had. My life has never been the same since. From that evening until I graduated high school I slowly stepped back and started to re evaluate everything I'd been taught through my own nascent filter. Immersed in a religious evironment I trained my thoughts to explore a new path. It came very naturally to me.

By the time I was 17 I announced to myself that I was no longer a Christian. I was perfectly content with my decision but kept it under wraps until I could start to bloom independently in college. I used to "hear" God talking to me. After I stopped believing I realized it wasn't God but me filling in the blanks of what I thought God would say to me. I would set up little tests. Commit small sins and see if they were punished by an all powerful God. They weren't. The whole structure collapsed around me and the ruins filled me with hope. If my mind was powerful enough to dismantle an entrenched orthodoxy what else could it do? Could I apply the same questioning lens to other social structures and institutions? Start to pick out where I agreed with the masses and where I didn't?

To truly think independently is a frightening proposition. Because if you truly commit to following your own path it may turn out to be a path far from that chosen by the people in your life that you love. New pathways are exciting but leaving behind comforting thoughts and structures can be intimidating. But to me it's worth it. I'm certainly no maverick but I do live my life as I see fit. I don't ascribe to structures of thought (religions) developed and handed down over centuries. I'm sure there is plenty to learn from 2,000 year old scrolls but I'm not organizing my moral precepts around them. I respect religion and the positive role it plays in many people's lives including my parents but it's not for me. At least not now. Hopefully my intellectual openness will continue as I age and I'll always be willing to incorporate new information and insights.

But for now I'm content to revel in my liberation. I haven't looked back since I stared down at my hands that night. Today I'm trying to develop a strong, interesting voice in the field of comedy. I think my early experiences sharpened my intellectual curiosity and laid the foundation for the voice I have and the voice I'm developing.

I think if most teachers reviewed the bland sea of sameness that comes across in many people's Facebook status updates they'd be a little disappointed. You don't go to school for 12 years so you can spout out cliches the rest of your life about how you can't wait for Friday. You're supposed to be developing a perspective, a point of view. Thinking things through. It's easy to live a life of conformity. Tops on the reasons why list is that it doesn't require much thought. It's comforting, simple, and incredibly dull.

And come to think of it, it's a good thing I didn't commit to a life of chastity before marriage. If I had I'd be a 33 year old virgin today. Not even Brother Ferris would wish that on me. I hope.

Dirty joke

What do panty hose and Brooklyn have in common?

Flatbush

Not a good post to read if blasphemy offends you

Now that the room is clear...

Some people say that Jesus is everywhere. If that's true, does that mean he's on the Internet too? How does he spend his time there? Maybe he just browses weather sites--"Yep, that's all going according to plan." Have I ever inadvertently bumped into Jesus in a chat room? If someone in a chat room pisses him off does he ever just destroy the whole universe and start a new one?

Maybe he's monitoring our behavior on Facebook and Twitter. "I think there are more drunk pictures of Ally than sober ones. I'll just keep these for the files." When his dad's out of the room does he pull up pictures of his...finest creation?

On Twitter, what if he woke up one day and thought "Okay I'm going to let people know who I am now." If you're the first guy getting that tweet are you buying it?"

@heavenlyfriend: Just decided to announce that I'm God. So there it is...I'm God you guys.

@heavenlyfriend: Ha ha very funny. No I'm not drunk. I'm revealing myself through this Tweet.

@heavenlyfriend: You know what-screw this. Just keep living your lives. You'll see.

It's something to think about.

Motivation

I've realized that often I'm more motivated by being better than sucky people than by the example of great people. If you're sitting there all day staring at some choad I'll be damned if it doesn't make you work a little harder. Hey, I can do better than this guy.

In a recession, should you settle?

Response to a blog post about taking what you can in a down economy. I like her perspective.

Great post, Nisha. I’m only seven years into my professional career, but I can tell you that the job or two I’ve had that I was not passionate about at least helped me hone my skills. So if you need to “settle” for something that is not your dream gig, it’s okay. You’ve still got to take care of yourself with food and shelter and whatnot. As long as you are learning it’s not a waste.

Try your best to find a means-to-an-end gig that will still test your creative and mental abilities. No, it may not be what you want to do forever, but it’s not a waste if you are learning good lessons (even if they are defined by what NOT to do) and meeting new people.

I don’t think it’s too demanding for us to know what we want and strive to work our passions - but there is still something to be said for life experience, regardless of the sector or pay scale.

Fair question

I'm glad message boards exist to help us sort out questions like these...

Is drinking beer good if you have a cold?

http://qna.live.com/ShowQuestion.aspx?qid=1BF88664BACC45D2A336B9897C9E21A5

Michael Somerville

I always enjoy when we have a working comic talk to our stand up class and critique our material. It's a bit intimidating to tell your silly little jokes in front of some dude that is making it but it's also creates a relaxed feeling--this person isn't dramatically different than me. They're just farther down the road I'm on. He has his own show on the FLN network called Wingman. Here's his website:

www.michaelsomerville.com

Michael shared some advice which I'll briefly recount...

• Find what your strength is and build on it
• You can't write pure comedy gold every time you pick up a pen. Maybe 10% of the jokes you write will end up being solid material. Get okay with that and start churning ideas out.
• When you watch your old stuff and it makes you cringe, that's a good sign. It means you've learned since then.
  
• As you meet people in the comedy business, always be nice and friendly. Everyone wants to be around people they like so be likable. (Separate topic for later...how incredibly nice and supportive people I've met in NYC are.)
  
• Learn from comics you don't like. What is it that you dislike? Why? How can this knowledge help sharpen your approach?
• The secret to success is to just keep doing it over and over. He suggested setting a goal for ourselves of doing 100 hours of standup or 100 shows before stepping back to say "How good am I and where is this going?" Don't judge, just do.
• Start following comics around local clubs. Introduce yourself.
• The time you learn the most is when you bomb. Don't see it as failure.
• Typically, any comic's first hour of truly solid material is usually their best. Think of Chris Rock's Bring the Pain and Bigger and Blacker. Sharp, cutting edge material. Which he took a long time to craft. (If it didn't take him a long time I'm going to be pissed because those are incredible shows.)
  
• Hone your unique voice, get good at it, and good things will happen.
  
• Agents come calling when you don't need them anymore. Get good and get seen and things will fall into place naturally.
  
• NYC vs. LA--For standups, NYC is the epicenter. "Go to LA when they send a limo for you at the airport."

When I started the one year comedy program I was hoping I'd meet some high up person in comedy who could pull back the velvet curtain and let me into the inner circle. As if I could circumvent the struggle. That's why I flew to New York to try out for Last Comic Standing. Surely Kathleen Madigan will recognize my comic genius and pluck me from obscurity.

Not only is this complete hubris, it's not even desirable. If the top comic agent in the world shook my hand today, I wouldn't really have any favor to ask. I need to craft and build my material and develop my voice. When I have 20 minutes of solid material that consistently does well with diverse audiences I'll know I'm getting somewhere. Until then the onus is all on my shoulders. It's actually empowering knowing the only possible constraint is your own motivation and abilities.

Knowing what needs to happen is a good feeling. I didn't have that a year ago. Moving to NYC has been completely worth it if only for that knowledge.

See?

Finally a defensible excuse for my behavior.

"I think it's the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately."

--George Carlin

Little Boxes

I read this phrase today--"a shift in thinking." The reference was something related to the stimulus package recently debated and refined in Washington. However it reached out to my solipsistic tendency and quickly framed the last eight years of my life. My thinking has definitely shifted.

As would any person's during the time they grow from a 25 year old into a 33 year old. However, continuing the self indulgent tone of a blog, I'd like to think my shift was perhaps more dramatic than most.

When I was 25 I was a year into experiencing intown, single-centric Atlanta and busy building a career in corporate recruiting. I had hightailed it out of social work a couple years earlier and was glad to be developing a skillset that didn't involve convincing adults to change their behavior. I wanted to help people but I wanted to do it on a professional level and I wanted a decent amount of money.

It was a perfectly respectable path and it helped me carve out an independent life for myself. I developed a great group of friends and professional colleagues. I was knee deep in the real business world and thoroughly engaged by the challenge and learning curve.

And so it went. On and on. After awhile the momentum shifted from achieving basic mastery to a sense of competence and normalcy. My role models were corporate executives. They were razor sharp, smooth, worldly, and smarter than me. They were able to digest, comprehend, and act decisively on information I could hardly put my arms around. It was somewhat intoxicating.

I'd read articles in the paper quoting CEO's and read their quotations aloud. I wanted to train my mind to be like theirs. I love philosophy and strategic thought in the business world aligns quite closely with a philosophic mindset. Even better, business world acumen is tied to success and failure in the real world and offers numeric, specific guideposts as decision making feedback. Philosophy departments struggle (or are legitimately averse) to quantify their musings. This was real shit.

But somewhere along this eight year path my mind started to drift. For a time I focused exclusively on increasing my income and improving my lifestyle. It worked. I got farther than I ever thought I would when I was in high school, at least financially. This is it, right? Time to shift furniture shopping from Ikea to Intaglia and Buy Design (mid scale Atlanta purveyors). Amstel Light or Bud? Easy decision. MLB Extra Innings-done. I wasn't wealthy by any means but I was comfortable.

I remember sitting on my comfortable couch watching a movie in my perfectly fine townhouse in my perfectly fine neighborhood with a great social scene around me. Why wasn't this enough? Besides the obvious conjecture something is seriously fucking wrong with me I realized I wasn't fulfilled. Recruiting is great, but is it who I am?

To make my point simpler, here's a quick story. At one point I volunteered to help high schoolers put out a newspaper called Vox. Part of the program was offering to let the students shadow you at work for a day. Sure, why not. I signed up for the program with a carefree attitude. Come on by, I'll show you around.

The program coordinator called me bashfully one day and explained our predicament. "None of the students were interested in learning about being a recruiter." What? Really? Oh. Okay. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But it's actually really interesting and complex and.... It didn't matter. Those kids didn't give a shit. No one thinks "I want to be a corporate recruiter" in 11th grade.

It doesn't mean recruiting is a bad profession. Far from it. It just means that recruiting doesn't set high school students' hearts ablaze. You don't sit up all night reading recruiting strategies when you're 17. You sit up all night reading Catcher in the Rye or Fahrenheit 451. Things that resonate with a human being trying to understand the world and their place in it.

Anyway, at some point in the past three years I started putting all this information together. I used to think the traditional template of success in America was the only appropriate standard to judge myself by. If I wasn't trending towards getting married, having children, and advancing along the corporate ladder, how could I possibly define myself as successful? I would just fall behind and sit alone in my apartment jealously envisioning the happiness and success others who followed the template were having. They were lounging in warm living rooms, laughing near fireplaces, living the dream. I was watching Dave Attell stand up and deciding which bar to start the night at.

But then I shifted my thinking. Why should I live my life by a particular template that happens to be popular in recent history? Why should any particular template, whether the one I currently was a part of or the one I evaluated myself against, be how I judged myself? Why should I care what other people think? Hell, who's to say people living out this template would recommend it? Who's to say people in my template would recommend it to others outside of it?

The point is it doesn't matter which particular template or lifestyle you ascribe to. I'm not judging other people's lifestyles. I'm just saying it's incumbent upon each of us to decide what works for us and then follow that wholeheartedly. To live sincerly, genuinely, with purpose. If your ideal life is having 4 kids and living in a suburb, chase that with everything you've got. If it's not, then don't feel bad you're not following that dream. For me, I started to realize how much I loved comedy and now I'm finally doing something about it. At times it's terribly foreboding but as Hulu CEO Jason Kilar says, "There's nothing more intoxicating than doing big, bold things."

I just realized I could have saved all this time by saying "Different strokes for different folks." I guess what they say is right--nothing is original anymore. However, I don't think most people take the different strokes concept to heart. I think many of us assume what has been done before and what has been done by many is the default option. I don't think it should be. I think we should continuously re evaluate our lives to ensure we're living the life we truly want to live. Otherwise it's just...

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

Ball control

Do you think most guys can control each ball individually? I don't think I can unless someone suddenly grabs my left thigh unexpectedly. In that case my left ball is going to spring into defense contraction mode first. Less of a joint ball reaction in this instance. This topic is making me nauseous. It is fun to control your balls though.

How to end a trip

Faced with a limited selection of elliptical machine reading material, I resigned myself to a weekly periodical I'd shun in any other circumstance. I'd been in this situation before and mistakenly selected a magazine called OK. I thought OK was the poor man's People but soon learned OK is little more than a pastiche of 300 pictures of dresses. That's a hard lesson to learn two minutes into a 30 minute run with no other reading material in sight. As soon as I realized my mistake I started brusquely flipping through the pages trying to get past the dresses section, hoping the guy next to me noticed my air of revulsion. Actually, I'm not even sure it was OK magazine that I picked up. I just know that its major themes were weight gain rumors and parties I hadn't been invited to.

I knew that I was about to spend the next 30 minutes covertly pining after women stoically bouncing nearby. I needed a distraction so they'd stay just shy of being creeped out enough to leave their machine and sign up for a membership at Curves. So I settled on The Week. The Week. Seriously? People are writing articles for this and sending it out to the world? It sounds like a cruel country club bet where the winner came up with an idea more boring than The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer. The kind of magazine with plenty of droll cartoons populated with obese men dressed in overcoats and monocles.

But to my surprise it did have an interesting news item. Apparently a woman from Brazil ran out of money on vacation in Bolivia. Left with no means to return home, she came up with this idea: Strip naked in front of a statue of Christ and hope for deportation.

That ought to do it. But nope, she got arrested and released within hours. She quickly realized the error of her methodology and did it again. As in later that same morning. A crowd gathered. (In my mind she's pretty hot with no discernible blemishes or tattoos.) This time Bolivia contacted Brazil.

Bolivia: Hey, is this Brazil?
Brazil: This is Brazil, how can I help you?
Bolivia: Listen, one of your peeps came down and she's naked in front of our Jesus statue.
Brazil: No shit. Is she hot?
Bolivia: I don't discern any blemishes or tattoos. Yeah she's decent.
Brazil: Nice.
Bolivia: We can't have guys getting worked up in front of Jesus Christ. You have to do something.
Brazil: Tell you what. Get her to the border and we'll send for a train.
Bolivia: Done. (Pause) I still think about you sometimes.
Brazil: Randy, don't start.

Anyway, that's basically what happened. She got a free ride home to Brazil by stripping naked twice. I can't think of anyone who didn't come out ahead in this situation. Do you think she knew this would work? Was it incredibly odd but effective intuition? Did she weigh the possibility her tactic would result in a prolonged jail sentence rather than a free train ticket? Is she imbalanced? Was she simply desperate? Or just someone who doesn't give a shit? I'd like to talk to her about it with a translator that knows when it's time to make himself scarce.

How to spend your time in college

Penelope Trunk is a badass. I could read her blog all day and night stopping only to read her Twitter updates. This is a great guest column:

http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2007/12/04/twentysomething-why-i-regret-getting-straight-as-in-college/

I especially enjoyed it because it gave me the opportunity to be smug about a decision I made in college. Freshman and sophomore year I busted my ass academically. I had fun, but was very vigilant about maintaining high grades. Junior year, I stopped and looked around. Like Ferris says you're supposed to. I realized I had almost unwittingly developed a stellar group of friends and I only had two years left to spend heaps of time with them.

Only two more years to alter the scoreboard at a Mercer Bears baseball game to briefly contend we were somehow beating FSU. Two more years to sit in the cafeteria from the time it opened for lunch at 11:15 to the time it closed at 2:15. To somehow end up bumping bare bellies on the ground with Coby Nixon outside the bar Darrell's near closing time. Besides the possibility we are gay I can't for the life of me figure out why we did that.

I realized that I cared far more about helping a frat brother pull a Greek letter off a rival frat house at three in the morning than reading 14 chapters of Industrial Psychology. I'd hear stories of Friday and Saturday nights spent studying, cramming, achieving. Fuck that.

My decision to embrace the theory that "learnin' is more than just books" probably shaved half a point off my college GPA. And I don't give a green goddamn! I suppose I didn't get into UGA law school because of it but you know what? I didn't really want to go to law school anyway.

I'm not advocating dropping out of college or declining into alcoholism during the first two years of your twenties. But if you have to choose between a 3.8 and limited social memories versus a 3.3 with a swarm of parties, booze, and laughing uncontrollably at ridiculous antics and comments...well my friends, for the love of Christ choose the latter.

Question

After you use a towel for a few days, does it start to smell like French toast? Is that just me?

Brazen Careerist

Penelope Trunk has a great career blog.

http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/

I like this quote from one of her posts:

There is not finite success in the world. There is just a finite amount of people who can stomach the pain of wanting success so much.

Snippet from an interview with The State

AVC: Tom and Kerri, you guys have made your first forays into stand-up comedy. What made you do it?

TL: I think it was just a pure unadulterated fear of doing it. Once you do it and it goes well, it's extremely addictive. It's kind of like the crack of the entertainment industry. If it's going well, it's a really fast, powerful rush that's hard to stop doing.

KKS: Honestly, it's like trying heroin. It's one of those things that you think, "I think my life would be really different if I did that." So I'm turning 39 in a couple of weeks, and I sort of have that feeling of, "What the fuck, let's just do this."

Problematic sports announcer

Someone asked me why I don't like ESPN blowhard Mike Tirico. Yeah, well here's why:

Mike Tirico is the worst announcer of all time. He has singlehandedly ruined the Monday Night Football franchise. He has no sense of when to let the moment speak for itself. He crams every split second with his plasticky, mundane, pre packaged commentary. Just shut up for 6 seconds now and then. We're interested in watching the game, not listening to you state the blindingly obvious for three hours. The broadcast is more about him than about the game or the players. He never says anything interesting or controversial. He has mastered saying what you're supposed to say at exactly the right time like some sort of sub human drone. He's a mindless collection of facts and statistics pushed in front of him by researchers. In short, he sucks and I'll continue railing against him until I reach a settlement with ESPN.

What's around us

En route to Newark I read an article about a retiring minister. One of the stories he told at his farewell speech was about being in a boat at sunset. He looked off into the horizon and saw a golden hue across the water. So he steered the boat out to sea in the hopes he could immerse himself in the gold. After a few minutes he realized that he had been in the gold all along.

I'm not sure what lesson he extracted from this experience because the article didn't say. But the idea resonated with me. I spend a lot of time thinking about what is out there, what can be achieved or grasped if I string together a series of successes. Press down on the throttle a little harder, will the gold to come a bit closer. But if you spend all of your time apart from contentment and relying on external factors to bring you happiness it's going to be a frustrating life. I try to calm my mind periodically and, taking a cue from my sketch writing teacher, embrace the process. Embrace obscurity, toil, failure, and what exists today.

I've developed a cynical mind and anytime an idea pops up that could possibly be branded as New Age I summon my inner bully and kick it in the stomach. This idea of a golden hue just out of grasp certainly could fall within that category. But any true intellectual journey is going to have to ignore popular conceptions and labels in pursuit of an individual knowledge and truth. So why not pull from New Age wisdom, religious traditions, secular thought leaders-- hell I'm sure even John Daly has a thing or two to say.

It's a nice image, seeing the wise old man in the boat figuring out a way to live.

What if

What if the entire financial industry collapse could be attributed to a sizable number of people graduating college, having no idea what to do with themselves, and picking investment banking and finance as a suitable career choice. These future ne'er do wells are ambitious, bright, high achievers. They do well at whatever they focus on. But they focus on finance only because it will pay well and because it's an established pillar of our society.

So they get there, to Wall Street or close, and they make a ton of money. But there's not much behind the drive anymore. They reach the pinnacle, look around, and sigh. If you are the best at what you do but the job doesn't interest you all that much, how much of yourself is really invested in the role? What other serious motives exist beyond wealth and status at that point? If you get to the top of the hill without really caring about the hill will you care about its future once you've arrived? Or will you pillage, stockpile, amass all you can to help make up for the fact that you really didn't give a shit about the venture to begin with?

A little dark? Maybe. But what's to keep people invested in a career, an endeavor, a relationship, if they don't really care about the content, only the outcome. To get to a place. I have these things. I earned this piece of the pie. But then what? You have the biggest house, the best title. But if it's not tied to something you genuinely respect and love, how can that pursuit possibly sustain you emotionally and intellectually over time?

I think some people somewhere, whether in the financial world or elsewhere, can relate to what I'm saying. If you have no passion or purpose to drive you beyond amassing material gain, then at some point you may as well sell out to the highest bidder and see if Johnny Law can figure it all out.

George Carlin

This is a nice, concise obit of Carlin. I already feel a kinship as I've had my first humiliating subway ride home after an awful set.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/28/magazine/28carlin-t.html?ref=magazine

Water landing

I think most people avoid listening to the water related safety instructions at the start of a flight for obvious reasons. No one thinks we're going to land on water and all get out and survive. So why learn the directions? Until, of course, it happens...

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/18/nyregion/18plane.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&hp

Early indications, as described by the safety agency, were that the cockpit and cabin crews got through an emergency “by the book,” but it was an event that exists almost entirely in books alone; big planes seldom come down in water in a controlled way.

Article

Parts of this article had me cracking up. It also includes the new joke I'll be telling when people say "Know any jokes?" No one really says that actually.

http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/15/guy-walks-into-a-bar/

New Yorkers

As news cameras honed in on the US Air plane floating in the Hudson this afternoon, fellow gym goers stared at the coverage 12 inches from their face on their treadmill TVs. I thought that was a telling image of hardy New Yorkers--potential tragedy just down the street not deterring them from their workout. Obviously, if people had been injured or killed it would be a different story. But as it turned out, it was an interesting spectacle to watch as we continued our daily lives.

I thought maybe people would turn the channel so they could focus on their workout or briefly withdraw from the outside world. But if there's one thing New Yorkers are comfortable with, it's heaping doses of reality right in front of their face. At some point during 700 subway rides and walks down 6th Avenue you become inured to other people's tribulations. Not insensitive to them or immune to them, but comfortable with frequently viewing the hardships that are part of reality for many people.

I'm guilty of not letting those hardships spur me to action. And I'm not trying to glamorize that particular bit of selfishness. But it did lift my spirits to see people almost comically bouncing along with the threat of mortality just inches away.

Odd Shoe Dream

I've decided to use this blog to categorize weird dreams because honestly, what just happened there? Last night I dreamed that I was on some sort of field trip to the mall in a severely cramped oversized pickup truck. When we got there I was barefoot. I managed to find some sort of child's shoe that I crammed my right foot into and then stumbled upon a shoe store.

Now how the shoe store salesperson didn't suspect I might steal a shoe, what with my one bare foot and one foot jammed into a child's shoe, I'll never understand. But he didn't. I found a really nice $179 sneaker and put it on my left foot and hightailed it out of there, one regular fitting expensive shoe and one severely cramped child's shoe. Why not steal a cheaper shoe? Or even just buy a pair?

I made it back to some kind of warehouse area where we waited for the giant pickup truck to return. My feet were doing okay at this point and I thought I was in the clear. Boy was I wrong. Someone in my group answered their cell phone and said "Yeah, he's here." Freaking snitch!

Security swarmed in and I nonchalantly explained "Oh my god, I was just looking for you guys! I somehow left Foot Locker with this shoe and wanted to return it! No, I didn't steal it. Who would steal just one shoe?"

They didn't buy it. I was in a deep, deep panic. Why do dreams have to be so incredibly intense? (I kind of know the answer but it's more fun to speculate.) It honestly made me think back to when I shoplifted as a teenager and I felt during the dream that I was being made to pay for the couple times I escaped when I actually did shoplift. I was quite disappointed in myself.

Hmm so maybe I have guilt over shoplifting a Miami Hurricanes ballcap when I was 16. You'd think I'd be over that by now.

Anyway, I made it back to the weird truck and had to climb through a tiny portal to get to the backseat where my legs had absolutely no room and people were kind of disgusted with me. Kind of like you are right now after suffering through the details of my dream. The point of the story is make sure you have shoes on before you go to the mall.

Trash beer

It's high time The Trash Beer Incident was explained to the masses. This will accomplish two aims--settling The Trash Beer Incident once and for all and mentioning Kristin Helms' name in the blog. It's doubtful she'd read any further without seeing her name in ink.

One fateful summer Atlanta day I returned home to find a case and a half of beer in front of my townhouse. Right near where they pick up the trash. The untampered with beer wasn't in the trash. It was just on the drainage grate near the trash.

Now to me, what you got right there is free beer. That ain't something that comes along every day and you should act accordingly.

Now to my companions, elitist members of the finer sex Kristin and Kat Davis, what you got there is Trash Beer. To them, it was as if the beer was itself garbage, rather than an unspoiled path to intoxication.

We went back and forth for quite some time on the matter. But you know what? In the end, they ended up carting themselves to Green's Liqour and forking over their radio station and cable company wages the next time they needed booze. Me? A simple matter of cooling off the curbside cocktails.

I mean honestly, is some robber dude going to buy a syringe that penetrates glass and poison a 12 pack of beer? Who has time for that? Wouldn't the robber just drink the beer? Of course he would. We beat the robber to the punch.

Who was right? Well, I was. Girls are funny.

LaGuardia

I told you the concept of LaGuardia was crazy. I'm not joking. I don't think the runway should go right up to the water. Who designed this??? Although maybe the water saved their lives. I'm moving back to Atlanta tomorrow, slowly, via car.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/15/new.york.plane.crash/index.html

Facebook: The First Reflection

There are many things to say about Facebook. I used to resist Facebook. I was too cool for it. Oftentimes I am too cool for things I do not yet understand. But then my friend Mike--well he prefers to be called Stumpy so let's go with that. Stumpy was all about Facebook. I crashed at his place a couple nights before I moved to New York. Both mornings he got up around 7:30, leaving me alone in his warm bed, and immediately checked Facebook. I mocked him. "Did something exciting happen on Facebook between 12:30 and now? It's kind of unhealthy to check out pictures of your sister's friends this early in the morning." Etc.

But then slowly Facebook drew me in. Before long I was its spawn. I craved status updates and wall postings more than Stumpy's knowing glance of desire. Does that sound gay at all? I just like to mess with Stumpy. Ah, Stumpy. You are manna for our souls. We drink of your wine.

Stumpy/Mike is a good guy. You would like him Mr. Internet. You would like him a lot. He can help you with technology things you don't understand. He has a good heart despite the slings of insensitive people around him (like me). Wait, this isn't about me. This is about SMike. Actually it's about Facebook. Maybe this is a postmodern post. Give me a minute to look up postmodern. Hmm it says "ironic self-reference and absurdity." And "involving a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language."

Maybe I shouldn't use words like that anymore. At the very least I shouldn't look them up. Although I may have the first part right. Ironic self reference. Hmm. Ironically referencing oneself. I have the most widely read blog on the Internet. That's not the kind of thing I would say. It's good to have these ideas written down though. We'll put them in the stew and see if they resurface later.

Anyway, Facebook. What is its most compelling draw? Is it the chance to be social in ways our day to day lives don't allow for? Or is it the chance to express ourselves in a broader format than our day to day lives? I have to think the answer is some variation or in some way related to these 2 concepts. Is it a bad thing if it's about our egos? Is it a sad thing if it provides social solace we don't otherwise attain?

Or maybe it's just fun. But I think it's deeper than fun. It hits on basic human needs and desires. It's all in there. It's probably the closest thing to mirroring our real lives that we've yet found on the Internet. It allows us to catalog ourselves. It allows us to become fledgling marketers. How do I want others to see me? What will I say about myself? What will I say to other people?

It's not as ephemeral as day to day life because it's documented. We've used that word before on this blog so it's now in the lexicon and will be used at all possible occassions. So is lexicon. My friend Clay brought up a good point--the pictures and words we see on Facebook do not come close to representing who we are as individuals. It's fairly easy to scan someone's profile and send a note--"Great to catch up with you, glad all is well!" Smiling photos do not mean all is well. Most people aren't going to publish personal anguish. So in some ways, Facebook is life watered down. Which might be another one of its draws. It's like heading out to the movies for a break, except the screen reflects pieces of who we are. But just pieces.

Horror movies

I have no desire to see a horror movie in 3D. Death is creepy enough as it is. I don't want to live out what's it like to have a giant knife spinning through the air at my face.

Lucky underwear

I have an interview today and was wondering. Does lucky underwear exist? Ladies, will you mail me a pair of yours to help me figure this out? I'll need a photo of you to help determine if you are an appropriate test subject.

Laughing matters

Goddamn that was a really lame title I just came up with! I mean seriously. Unacceptable on my part and you have my apology. I guess I could just leave the title blank but that doesn't seem to be very helpful to my 4 followers who signed up to follow my blog to be nice to me and will likely never read this blog again. Let's be honest Jennifer McCahan you're the only person reading this. And I appreciate it!

So the whole reason I got into comedy was because (terrible grammar but fuck it) I wanted to see if it would be possible to replicate the feeling you get when you and three or four people are laughing uncontrollably, usually while drunk. And the answer is: no. No, it's not. Getting an audience of strangers (or frankly people you know in groups larger than, say, four) to laugh in unison is quite different than an inside joke with your pals. Inside joke example: I don't think those are empty pot bags scattered around Washington Heights.

By the way can I just pause here and say Billy Crystal is telling some long, fairly lame story about a raccoon on Letterman right now? Don't get me wrong, I understand the guy's a legend. But I do dislike how once a guest achieves a certain level of celebrity talk show audiences glibly laugh along anytime there's a pause. Just because Billy Crystal or Robin Williams (especially Robin Williams) are talking doesn't mean everything they say is funny. Funny is defined on a moment to moment basis. People should laugh because of content not because of reputation. They should also follow my rules for laughing.

As I was saying. For argument's sake let's conjecture that there are two kinds of funny. Funny Type 1: That which you create and share with a crowd. It's commercially viable and broadly accessible material. Type 2: Humor that springs from intimacy and specific knowledge of a person or group. I'd say generally Type 2 yields the hardest laughter and resonates most deeply. Each of us has a distinct set of experiences and people in our lives that can yield humorous content. It's personally relevant and deeply understood. So a case could be made that these jokes and moments are the most rewarding.

But how funny can it be if only four people understand the joke? I'd bet most people would put their favorite lines from their favorite comedians up against personal stories they found the most enjoyable. Type 1 has the potential to give scores of people enjoyment. Type 2 is situation based and generally ephemeral. I don't know what that word means either. Yes I do. But I felt bad for you for a minute. Unless you do know what it means. In which case you're probably a little mad at me right now. I understand. Take a minute.

There's really no point in figuring this out because really there's nothing to figure out. Both kinds have their purpose and it would be impossible to assign any kind of value to either type. My point is: Why are you reading this?

That was also a rude thing to say. My point is that when I began to approach the comedy field this argument was a central piece of my motivation. Can I replicate the doubled over laughter I occasionally have created or contributed to in a small group in a much larger setting? Can I get rooms full (or nearly empty) of strangers to see an idea in my head the way I see that idea? And if they see it my way, will they find it as funny as I did when I wrote it? The answer is no.

Just kidding. Sort of. It's a work in progress. I'm reading back through this to see if it makes me come across like I have a big ego. Because I don't. Maybe I did, but not anymore. Not about comedy stuff. About other stuff. Maybe that's another posting topic--how we perceive our skill levels in different areas of interest vs. how the world perceives our skill levels.

Figuring that gap out creates a whole new level of self awareness. It can be daunting and discouraging. But what keeps me going is the knowledge that even if I didn't put my efforts on display my level of natural talent would still be what it is. My genuine talent or genuine shittiness exists whether or not I test it out. So may as well test it out. Get closer to reality, closer to an authentic life.

Accomplishments

Sometimes I take great pride in miniscule achievements. Like getting ready. I think about each step and smugly nod my head when it's completed. Yep, washed my arms. Arms are good to go. Wash my feet? Oh yes, we'll get there. There it is. There it is now. Clean as a whistle. Freshly showered, bitches.

Talcum powder below? Check. Deodorant? It's applied. Borderline gay face lotion? Smoothed on. Can't even see the white anymore. This guy right here is very close to being completely ready to go outside. Won't be long now.

Boxers, slid those bitches right on. Same goes for the jeans. Once the shirt slips on, that's when you know you're close. The feel of the shirt on your above-waist skin, that's like rounding third and heading for home. I mean hell if someone broke in right now at least I'd have a shirt on. You can't deny me that. I'm ready for action, technically. At this point socks and shoes are gravy. Socks and shoes mean my feet won't hurt on the pavement outside. That's a good place to be. Secure in your walking capacities.

I also like to look in the mirror after I'm ready and think about how far I've come. The before and after. Just 30 minutes ago that guy was disheveled, pointy hair in the back, borderline greasy. Now? Shit. Smooth as silk.

When I get outside I half expect strangers to grab my arm--"Hey man you look really ready! Did you forget anything? No dude, you look clean as hell. Damn! Everyone out here better step off!" Soon the crowds part and they stare, wondering how, how did this erstwhile sleeper get to this point? Is there any part of him that isn't refreshed? Doubt it. Then some rap music comes on.

Sponges

Why in God's name are sponges moist when you buy them? That is nasty. I'm not sure what the source of this moisture is. I can provide my own moisture, sponge companies. In fact, that's why I bought the sponge--to pair it up with my own sources of liquid. I don't need a head start. I'm not sure I trust sponge factory workers at this point.

Practice

"Practice is an ever-fresh, challenging flow of work and play in which we continually test and demolish our own delusions; therefore it is sometimes painful."

--Stephen Nachmanovitch, Free Play

I love this book. It was recommended by my improv teacher. I thought it was going to have an instructional bent but instead it's a well thought out exploration of creativity, what it means, and how we can best access our creative abilities and instincts. And it's not simply the author's whimsical thoughts about creativity--the book is an articulation of theories and insights he's likely spent a lifetime developing. The word "guru" is fairly cheesy but it might apply here. Although if he truly was a guru I'd probably have to beat his ass out of principle.

You can turn to most any page and read deep, personally relevant material. I love any book like that. I like smart people teaching me things. I thought the practice quote was especially applicable to those intrepid souls venturing into stand up. My classmates and I all took our lumps during fall semester. I think we showed up to class the first day thinking "Okay, I'm good and these classes will help the world figure that out." Uh, no. We all have material that sucks, that we thought was solid when we wrote it down or laughed at it the first time we said it. But you have to bring the unformed glass into the fire before it turns into anything relevant or useful. The fire in this case being ridiculously bright spotlights and bewildered looks on audience members' faces.

Oh, I thought that joke was funny. But no one here does. Hmm. That's a painful reality to face on stage in front of strangers. It's not like getting a crossword puzzle clue wrong in your living room. The standup mistake crystallizes in a public place with plenty (hopefully) of witnesses to the carnage.

And so learning what works and what doesn't is more than a simple, prolonged search for material that is tried and tested and polished. At times, it's about facing your delusions. At times I have a hard time distinguishing between what is mean and what is funny. You know, the old adage "The joke's not funny unless someone's feelings are getting hurt." That might not be the best adage. So I've had to confront my delusion (with the help of my comedy instructor Steve Rosenfield). I'm not saying I've overcome it, but at least I'm aware now. And I do think mean and funny can make for good bedfellows. They just have to be laid out the right way. Audiences have surprising reservoirs of compassion and empathy. Not for comedians. For the subjects comedians choose to target. So the comic must let the audience know he has compassion and empathy too before launching into material that could be viewed as simply an attack.

One of the appeals of comedy is trying to replicate the laughing so hard until your stomach hurts feeling with a room full of strangers. It seems so simple and seductive watching an HBO special. But to get to that place requires the dismantling of plenty of delusions. And the delusions aren't just about your material. They're about your perspective on the world. They're about who you are.

Then again, what the fuck do I know.