Wednesday, May 30, 2007

That Guy With the TB Over At Grady Hospital...

He wouldn't happen to be a yodeling brakeman, would he?

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Cold and Heartless

Gave blood today.

Temp.: 97.7

Pulse: 48

The minimum allowed pulse is 50 but since I admitted to regular exercise they gave me a waver. The average donor takes 5 to 8 minutes to bleed a pint. I took 12.

Since dropping out of Grad. School due to panic attacks, my biggest ambition in life has been to remain calm.


Marta Advertisers Know Their Audience

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Bush Leaves Dog in Car With Windows Rolled Up

In the latest of a string of scandals plaguing his administration, the White House acknowledged that President Bush left his dog in the back of a 97 Camry while shopping at the Tysons Corner Center in Fairfax, Virginia Sunday. The dangerous heat and lack of a substantial air crack in the window has drawn strong bipartisan criticism. “This is terribly irresponsible on the part of the president,” said Terry Johnson, president of the Fairfax County ASPCA. “On even a mild day of 73 degrees, temperatures in a car can reach 120 in less than a half hour. Had the president been gone much longer, that dog could have died.”

Eyewitness Merle Alsabrook said he was once a supporter of the president but could not defend his actions. “He didn’t even park in the shade. He just parked it by Sears right out in the sun.” White House Communications Director Dan Bartlett confirmed the location saying, “The President prefers parking by Sears and walking through as it’s actually faster than trying to find a spot by the food court.” The White House noted the President was “in and out” at the mall purchasing only some socks, handkerchiefs and a take-out order from Wok N' Roll. “The president ate the Sesame Chicken at home. He even threw the dog a couple bites,” insisted Bartlett.

That may not be enough to satisfy critics. “I’m a hunter and voted for Bush to protect the rights of gun owners,” said Alsabrook. “But no decent sportsman would treat their own dog like that. Then there’s Iraq.”

In an alternate universe I never leave Wisconsin but instead attend the UW-Madison, begin doing comedy earlier and eventually get to contribute to the Madison-born Onion. I then become morbidly obese from the cholesterol-rich diet and sedentary winters and die at 33. Oh, what might have been.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Hats Off, A Comic Genius

Pete McBrayer is an Athens comedian with the modest, self-proclaimed epithet of Comic Genius. He’s also an Indie comic who plays rock clubs rather than comedy clubs. In New York or LA this would be called alternative comedy, but on his free-to-download album he insists he’s just an old-school comic telling jokes. Yet like his obvious influence Rodney Dangerfield, there’s a consciousness to this schtick. It’s not just a guy telling gags, it’s a guy telling gags in contrast to all the guys at the clubs telling loud stories with vulgar sound effects and claiming that's more sophisticated than a guy telling one-liners.

At their best, gags are as well-crafted and distilled as haiku. McBrayer’s not as polished as Rodney—few comics have ever matched the vibrant, life-affirming rhythms of No Respect, not even Dangerfield’s own cheesy, trend-chasing follow-up Rappin’ Rodney—but I don't think he's looking to be. He, like myself, risks provincialism with local references, little interest in national obsessions like Paris Hilton or American Idol and using a normal speeking voice. But if you want generic comedy, there’s always the Punchline. What's wrong with smart, engaged neighborhood comedy?

Around 2001 to 2002 the open mics in Atlanta all dried up leaving just the Punchline and the historically black Uptown Comedy Corner. But Athens had a biweekly show at tiny club called DTs Downunder. It was a 90-minute drive and the place would only hold 20 people if filled—it was never filled—but those were some of my best sets ever. Today, Atlanta boasts an open mic every night, but they can get pretty tedious. That comic genius is on to something playing with bands at music venues. I need to play ISP sometime.

It’s nice to see interesting comedy coming out of the Classic City.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Found in the Archives

A character I considered trying sometime in early 20001. A kind of foppish def jammer. I think I couldn't find a seersucker suit and just abandoned the idea.

Character to Try at Uptown Comedy Corner

Mr. H. O. N. Key

(Dressed in a slightly dandyish suit with a bow tie and speaking in a pinched, aristocratic manner)

"I say good ladies and gentlemen. I should like to begin with a query to all the fellows here this evening. What wine goes best with pussy? A certain wine steward friend of mine, who is not afraid to use his tongue, insists that a pinot noire goes down best when going down. However, I still prefer a modest chardonnay when in for a quick bit of clit licking. Unless it is her time of the month, in which case a red wine seems more appropriate. “If she’s having her flow/ Try a merlot” I always say.

Now if it’s a particularly skank coochie a hearty fortified wine might be necessary. But lest you ladies think me uncouth I should point out that I prefer not to think of it as a skank coochie. I simply think of it as Cajun style. After all, it does rather smell like crawfish.

But speaking of a particularly skank coochie, how about that President Bush? Is he perchance the only Texas retard they have not yet executed? Aha ha. Imagine the gall of that man, strutting about as if he were our legitimate president even though he lost the popular vote. Half a million more Americans voted for the other chap than voted for him—and that’s not even counting the people that fucked-up their ballots. Why I’d wager there are crack babies born more legitimate than this presidency—and at least they have a mandate. For when a crack baby is born it knows what it is supposed to do: cry out for that sweet, sweet crack. Then shake about with its cute little baby D.T.’s. Why, a crack baby is ready from day one to start jonesing. But what in God’s name was President Coochie’s mandate? To remain the American people’s second choice? Pish posh, I say.

But you must excuse me now. I met a gentleman in the parking lot who said he had something blunt to offer me. And I do so love no-holds-barred discussion. So cheerio and just remember, if she likes it up the arse just make sure she wipes. Ta ta."

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

2 Doors Down From Where Oxford Books Used To Be.

Need a cheap novelty item for a sketch show in 2 days? You can always check Eddie's Trick Shop's 2 locations or the indie/goth nick-nacks at Junkman's Daughter.

But don't forget about Richard's Variety in Peachtree Battle.

Puzzles, retro toys, Elvis playing cards and even off-color greeting cards. How novel.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Must Be Hard to Relax

Another area flophouse has closed to make way for redevelopment. Decatur's Relax Inn and the recently torched original location of My Sister's Room will give way to new apartments. The Dairy Queen will return.

I served on the Dekalb County Grand Jury in the early nineties. Basically, we had to hear about every felony case the DA wanted to proceed by seeking our indictment. We heard several cases that took place at the Relax--drug deals, solicitations and guns being shot off. It struck me as not a particularly restive place.

Later I used it as a setting for a Tennesee Williams pastiche with a Blanche Dubois and Brick-like characters down on their luck and residing at the Relax. Creative Loafing's Curt Holman gave it a non-negative notice in an otherwise negative review of the show it was part of. ('Course, I wasn't in that show.)

The heroine in the sketch uses an Atlanta bus route to defend self-delusion. What might she make of the proposed Cityville development? Would she note the bilingual redundancy of city and ville? Would she find in the half-assed pretention a kindred spirit? Or would she simply steel herself for the forlorn walk to the Suburban Extended Stay on Church St.?

At least the Last Chance Thrift Store is right across the street.

Thursdays at 11

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

"You Were Going to Spell It Wrong, I could Tell."

Bob and Ray on YouTube.
From a special they did with the gals of the early SNL.

Deadpan can be sexy.