That Guy With the TB Over At Grady Hospital...
He wouldn't happen to be a yodeling brakeman, would he?
An Atlanta comedian's blog.
Gave blood today.
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.”
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.
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."