Thursday, September 28, 2006

This Looks Interesting

From A Cappella's Schedule of Upcoming Readings and Performances

Fri., Sept. 29. 7 p.m.
Josh Karp
A Cappella Books

Josh Karp is the Chicago-based author of A Futile and Stupid Gesture: How Doug Kenney and National Lampoon Changed Comedy Forever (Chicago Review Press). The book is a history / biography of the 1970s rise and fall of National Lampoon and its founder Doug Kenney -- the golden boy of ‘70s counterculture comedy who wrote Animal House and Caddyshack before mysteriously falling to his death in 1980 at the age of 33.

The book has been optioned for a documentary by Erik Nelson who produced Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man and is scheduled to go into production before the end of the year.

Karp’s work has appeared in The Atlantic, Premiere, Salon, The LA Times, Chicago Sun-Times as well as several of other publications.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

I’m Supposed to Doug Dank

But I'll probably Doug Tank! Huh?! Huh?!

Doug Dank is a weekly long-form improv show in which a guest monologist uses an audience suggestion to tell true stories that in turn inspire the veteran Atlanta improvisers. I’m a hack stand-up comic prone to overwritten bits andwho always uses a set list. Guess who’s this Wed.’s guest monologist? It’ll be something.

Watch the fearless Doug Dank ensemble try to build a scene out of my stammers, blank stares and sweat.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

There Ought to be a Marta Book Club

The cops found my car. It’s now getting its steering column fixed.

Riding the train home Friday there was this woman. Her skirt tight but knee-length, her blouse red but with more cotton than silk, her heels elevated but walkable. Provocative attire but presentable enough to wear in a casual office like for intown real estate or entertainment law. Sort of business slutty. And in her hand a paperback copy of Tropic of Cancer. She's a reader. And/or Seinfeld fan.

I'll be taking the train more often.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Petty Theft Auto

Who’d want to steal a ’93 Oldsmobile? The book value was less than $800. Heading to the East Atlanta Strut—more of a detached, ironic saunter—it was parked on Haas Ave., a name I used to associate exclusively with refinement and education. In the time it took to hear a couple Americana bands, try the new stingray pot pie at Australian Bakery Café and thrill to the novelty of open containers on Flat Shoals, somebody swiped it. Could it be a rabid fan of the short Aliens Among Us where it was the stunt car in the heart-pounding “lots of eccentrics in a shitty car” scene? A vindictive rival seeking to rid me of the opening bit from my only decent Punchline set:

Much like a Chinese dissident, it was likely stripped for parts.

Alabama native and Atlanta open mic legend Melvin Hardin used to work at the soon-to-close Doraville assembly plant which used to make Oldsmobiles. In response to my queries he said it was possible my car was built there. He added “this old Alabama woman used to make lemonade by squeezing the lemons with her thighs. She seemed like a lot of fun but was kind of a sour puss.”

Anybody know of a used Ford Taurus or Mercury Sable for sale?

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Teach Your Brain to Heel

The inventor of cognitive therapy has recieved the Lasker Award for contributions to medicine. As opposed to the often drawn-out “talking cure” of psychoanalysis which seeks the root cause of a mental illness, Cognitive Therapy is a quicker, more pragmatic “counseling technique in which patients learn to head off or defuse self-defeating thoughts before acting on them.”

So if, say, fears of failure and embarrassment cause great anxiety and keep you from the mainstream of life, a few sessions of cognitive therapy—ably assisted by some mellowing psycho-pharmaceuticals—can help you introduce small failures into your everyday life until you’re soon able to make massive failures on a regular basis. And with only a fraction of the sweat stains of years past. Thanks Doc and congratulations.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


It’s Sherwood Anderson’s birthday. The man who walked off an office job to become a writer. The man who transformed the literary image of small town America from innocent, agrarian idyll to a mournful place of thwarted ambitions, aching isolation and grotesques. The farm implement accident victims of my hometown raise a 3-fingered, un-caressed hand to you. Sherwood Anderson, who died from peritonitis after swallowing a toothpick. Gross.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Sneeze or Appease

Ever the contrarian, Christopher Hitchens is now pro-histamine.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

How Choosing the Wrong Attributive Verbs Can Ruin a Children's Story

Their grandmother pulled into the driveway and parked her bright yellow station wagon. She brought a great big bowl of potato salad for the dinner.

"It's Grandma!" ejaculated Suzy.

"Now we can eat," spewed Sam.

Sam was very hungry and loved his grandmother's potato salad. They all sat down at the table and admired the many colorful dishes. There was green salad, yellow corn, brown gravy and even red cranberry sauce.

Their mother asked Suzy to say grace.

"Oh God," she moaned. "Thank you for this food and family."

"Amen," everybody jizzed.

I, Too, Sing Klingon

This past weekend was Black Gay Pride here in Atlanta as you could tell by the Langston Hughes display at every Barnes & Noble.

It was also Dragoncon.

What a Saturday night for the ladies. The whole city was teeming with extremely single men.

I just drank at home.