Ty and Aaron get a little serious and then get less serious and then break it down hard core. They talk about 5280, Denver’s popular new attraction, otherwise known as Restaurant. Ty plays basketball and then talks about it and then Aaron tears his game apart. The cats get to fighting. The sound quality is exquisite. They take a trip to planet Goof. Pigeons. And then they run out of stuff to talk about. It’s really funny.
I just finished watching the movie, Lenny, starring Dustin Hoffman (i.e. the shorter fellow across Tom Cruise in Rainman) and the documentary, Lenny Bruce: Swear to Tell the Truth, narrated by Robert DeNiro (i.e. “You talking to me?”). I was inclined to watch these films because recently I encountered Comedy Central’s list of the top 100 Comedians which ranked Lenny Bruce No. 3 among the all time greatest comics (behind Richard Pryor and George Carlin). That’s pretty high atop any list as far as I’m concerned. Even the Olympics awards a medal for third place.
I have to admit, however, that up until seeing that list, I’d never really heard of Lenny Bruce. I say “never really heard of” because anytime someone mentioned Lenny Bruce, I always envisioned Andrew “Dice” Clay who also made the list at number 95. After making the connection that this wasn’t the same person, I decided to investigate.
Clearly, Lenny Bruce did some great things to receive these accolades, but I had no idea what they were. What I discovered is that Lenny Bruce is not perceived so much for being an uproariously hilarious comic as much as he’s recognized for blazing a trail for modern joke telling. Bruce was a funny man but his fame came from the way he changed the face of comedy.
Before Lenny Bruce, most joke telling on stage had a formula to it. There was a set up, a punch line and a laugh. The audience wasn’t supposed to think about the joke they heard, they were just supposed to laugh on cue. It’s an effective way to tell jokes and it’s an effective way to hear jokes. However, it’s an ineffective way to stand out.
Bruce introduced a style of joke telling that made audiences think about what they were hearing. His material was conversational and often ad libbed. Consequently, his antics came across as vulgar and violated several obscenity laws. Bruce’s suggestive humor rocked the foundations of certain institutions like the Catholic church. His corrupt sermons led to several arrests.
Both films show Lenny Bruce fighting the judicial system for his right to free speech. He became engrossed in this endeavor and invested so much time, energy and money that when the courts beat him, he ultimately gave up. His reputation made it impossible for him to get work. Battered and defeated, Bruce died from a drug overdose at age 40.
After Bruce’s demise, he was given the first posthumous pardon in New York state history. No other comic has been indited on obscenity charges since. Lenny Bruce was an advocate for First Amendment Rights. Whether he was aware of it at the time or not, his efforts have allowed people an opportunity to express themselves in ways that couldn’t have been imagined in his time. He created a new standard for what’s funny; he was a game changer. I can’t think of another comic on Comedy Central’s list that has had the same impact on comedy as Lenny Bruce. For that, he most certainly deserves his spot on the podium.
Once upon a time, in an earlier post, I announced I was starting a diet that would include regular exercise, good eating and “lots of water”. From that I learned I should never announce things. While I’ve managed to stay on track with my weight loss goals, I’ve been fighting the process like hell. Just like the goings on at Planned Parenthood, diets suck…the life right out of you.
I must explain that the problem with dieting does not rest in the exercising. I thoroughly enjoy the satisfaction of working out so hard that I sweat out my b-hole. Diets don’t suck because of eating right, either. I like salad (dressing). The reason diets suck is based solely on the suggestion that a person should guzzle down 64-128 ounces of water each day. I’ve incorporated this suggestion into my daily routine and have suffered.
If I had it my way, I would eliminate “watering down” from my regiment. Here, then, are ten reasons why you shouldn’t drink more water:
10. Peeing out your butt hole when you’re not sick or dying is slightly disgusting
9. Tinkling more than a dozen times a day is bad for your water bill
8. The large amount of urine you expel just adds to the production and bottling of more Coors Light
7. The more water you drink, the clearer you see that you should cut out the middle man and drink your own pee
6. Even horses get colic from ingesting too much water
5. When your doctor asks you to pee in a cup your hand gets wet from overflow
4. When you pee in the toilet your feet get wet from overflow
3. Your pea sized bladder fills up quicker than a ten dollar whore
2. Frequent trips to the bathroom have your employer wondering if you’re a illicit drug doer
-and, finally-
1. There’s not enough booze in this swill
Feb 202010
My mother is a big, hairy gorilla. That’s right, stay with me. She’s an ape.
If you ask her about it, she claims to be of a young evolutionary age. Her name is Simeon. She was born in a jungle, she fishes ants out of logs with sticks and she has a hairy back like all the other gorillas.
She talks to me using the monkey sign language that she learned at the institute.
You’re probably wondering where I came from and why I don’t look much like a baby gorilla. First of all, you haven’t seen my hairy back and secondly, my father was a run of the mill banana salesman. Mom was his best customer and paid in full with premium primate lovin’.
Come 'ere, Gorilla Baby...mmmuuah
Thankfully, I only got Dad’s good looks and not his lust for monkey meat.
Dad died when I was just a boy of ape. During one of her sh&t fits, mom accidentally suffocated him with poop. I tried to figure out why she was so mad I got confused when she tried to use her monkey sign language while hurling feces.
I found out later that Dad was cheating on mom with some overgrown chimp named Buttons. After that they sent her to sit behind bars at the zoo.
The zoo keepers try to get her to mate by putting male gorillas in her cage. She mates, but I can’t bear to watch. I can see the pain in her eyes when she’s getting aped from behind.
She told me that she misses Dad and that no other gorilla can take his place. I said, “What about another man?”
A switch flipped. She got so excited that the zoo keepers tazed her. I went to the only place I know to find an ape loving man…the “Miscellaneous Romance” section on Craigslist.
I found my gorilla mom a human man. He is ironically named Evolution. He and my mother, Simeon, have fallen in love. She is going to remarry. I am happy for my monkey mom, but I’m disturbed by Evolution’s motives. It’s a sick thing for a man to lust for a gorilla.
I’m not going to their wedding. My mother went ape shit when she heard this and sent Evolution to come talk to me.
Evolution said to me, “Marriage of man and ape is the natural progression.” To which I replied, “Evolution, you can take your love a step farther, but I won’t have you as a step father.”
Feb 162010
These guys give douche bags a bad name
I know it’s a little late to comment on the decay of America’s social fabric but I’m going to anyway. I was tuning into some syndicated episodes of my favorite teeny-bopper television programming on a channel called MTV, when I noticed a show I hadn’t seen before. It’s called “Jersey Shore”.
For those of you who don’t know (i.e. anyone over the age of 24), “Jersey Shore” showcases the lives of several twenty-something New Jerseyans or New Jerseyites or douche bags or whatever living in a beach house in New Jersey. These kids are young and sexy and trendy and are always looking to score some tail or coke. Their nicknames and dialects are as revolting and annoying as those of the characters in the movie, “Good Will Hunting”.
From what I can tell, the men on the show gather strength for sun tanning and misogyny by slamming down Jaeger Bombs in hot tubs and smoking menthol cigarettes. The girls in the cast use the power of Bump-its, push-up bras and brash diction to get punched in the face. Watching “Jersey Shore” is like watching a bunch of retards play together. Everyone just makes up his own rules and throws a tantrum whenever he’s expected to share.
Their days are spent wandering around looking for sex and whining about how difficult their lives are. So far as I can tell, it reflects the general attitude of young Americans. The people in the cast are egocentric and insist that the world owes them something for nothing. No work and all play is the Jersey Shore way of life. The characters show a complete disregard for personal responsibility. It saddens me to think that this is what we view as normal behavior.
Regardless, “Jersey Shore” is a great show. I can’t turn away when these freaks get to jabber-jawing. From what I’ve heard, a lot of people like it, too. MTV has decided to bring the cast back for a second season. I guess we’ll just have to wait for another sultry New Jerseyan summer and “Grease” sequel before we can get another taste of this delectable dish.
I’ve always wanted to be a stand-up comedian. Looking back over the years, I’ve gotten a huge response from people just by talking and acting the way that I do.
I read this article that explained making your friends laugh doesn’t actually make you a funny person. Sure, my friends laugh at me, but they laugh at lots of other stuff, too; real comedians, for example, or the musical stylings of the Play-him off cat (see below), to name something else.
Fortunately for me and my dream, I have an uncanny ability to make strangers laugh or, at the very least, cringe. While I believe in my inherent abilities to humor people, my desire to get up on stage is hindered by a small hurdle. Quite frankly, I am scared to be on stage. I attribute the fear to a poor performance I gave in the third grade. I was playing Anonymous Man #2 alongside the wonderfully talented Falon Mahoney in the Westgate Elementary sensation, A Christmas Carol. I had one line – “I’m just a man whose anonymity should remain intact”.
I bombed in front of the whole school, parents and talent scouts. I forgot the line. I stammered on my speech and on my feet. I tripped into the set and knocked over a backdrop which broke a spot lamp above the stage. It fell directly on top of our school’s only prodigy and the play’s leading man, Nathan Hale. He was injured instantly. After that hack job, I second guessed myself whenever I got in front of an audience bigger than five deaf-mutes.
The underlying problem may be that I have just convinced myself that I’m scared. I haven’t actually performed on stage since then and it stands to reason that I don’t know what I’m scared of. I’ve always heard that courage is something you gain after you overcome your fear.
Maybe the best way to achieve my goal is to just go out there and give it a try with my nerves fluttering. But if I accomplish my goals, what will I have to complain about not achieving?
Aug 252009
Tookie is my cat and we live on the third story of a condominium building. He is extraordinary in every way. He is cute and fun like a small human. He bites hard and sleeps well. Even the way his huge craps stink is immaculate. Unfortunately for him, he is an outdoor cat trapped inside a indoor cat’s house. Sometimes, however, he is allowed out when I leave the house and the neighbors are gone. And this is where one of his best features kicks in. In order to get back into the condo after I let him outside, he doesn’t just wait at the front door making a scene for no one to hear like all the other idiot cats out there. No, he’s better than that. Using pure prowess and power, grace and skill, he scales the back side of our building with his cat-like claws and incredible strength. He jumps on our back porch and comes in through a dog door I paid for with my mother’s retirement money. This morning, I let Tookie outside a little earlier than usual so that he could exercise his handsome feline features. Which he did.
Tookie sometimes reminds me just how close to nature we actually live. We are a mere 20 yards from open space and, because of this Tookie and I have an agreement: He may only take memories and leave only footprints. Today he violated that agreement. He caught, maimed, killed, carried up the building, sat down on my kitchen floor with, and devoured the head of a baby rabbit (otherwise known as a cutie or a babbit). It’s pretty incredible what my cat is capable of. It’s even more incredible how much he can just kill an innocent creature with no remorse only minutes after I fed him. But I’m not even mad; I’m actually a little proud. Look what he can do! Commit murder? The thing is I just don’t want to clean up his pukes. Maybe if I leave it, my lover, JDubs, will clean it up with a trash sack and spare me the trouble.
Tookie eats rabbits like a man juggles; with balls
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