The Sincerest Form of Flattery

Hey there 'Redheads... Happy 4th night of Hanukkah (or 5th, depending on when you read this). It's the festival of lights, so I hope everyone is celebrating appropriately...by getting lit. With the incessant tide of yule blaring Xmas music just about everywhere you turn, I was pretty jazzed to stumble on this new take on a recent Hanukkah classic...

I think I'm going to pass on Adam Sandler's cover of Sweet Caroline. Which brings me to the theme of this installment. I'm a big fan of movie remakes. The 2001 remake of the 1960 Ocean's Eleven is one of my all time favorite flicks, as is the 2004 remake of 1978's Dawn of the Dead. Each one classics in their own right. So, I'm not against remaking a film as an homage or giving it a needed update to fit the times. Now that I've gotten that small point out of the way, may I direct your attention to the following two movie trailers. The first is for 2007's understated British black comedy, Death at a Funeral...

And the next one is for the overstated black comedy, coming out in April 2010, Death at a Funeral...

It's the same movie. It's the same premise, the same plot, the same gags, the same characters, and the same goddamn midget. Except, instead of understated British humor, you get to hear Tracy Morgan say, "DAAAAAAAAMN!" Nice to know that Hollywood has outsourced its script writing to Kinko's. I'd like to announce my plans to remake Avatar, by turning the contrast knob about three clicks to the right.

Let's move on to happier news. I got a great Hanukkah present on Sunday in the form of a new bouncing bundle of baby nephew...
Until his bris this weekend, he has no name, but I think I'm leaning toward Hanukkah Harry. I'm sure the parents will approve.

To be continued...

Wheel A Meal

Hey there, 'Redheads... I know, two blogs in one week? Can you handle the heat? Here's a quick tidbit for your mild amusement...

I was flipping channels a couple nights ago and turned on Wheel of Fortune just as this glorious game show nugget happened...

Gee, Pat, I don't know how she was able to solve that puzzle so fast. Maybe it was because she was picturing each letter as a slab of light-up cheesecake, slathered in blueberry topping, that security would have to use stun batons to keep her from charging the set and attempting to cram it into her gigantic, puzzle-solving maw, using Vanna to pick her teeth afterward. She probably scrawled "Cheesecake with blueberry topping" on every flat surface of the dressing room before the show, like the head pastry chef of the Overlook Hotel. That's like having Adam Lambert on the show and the phrase be Pat Sajak's crotch. You know what might've been a tough one? Salad. Like I should talk (type). Me calling someone else a fat food vacuum is the pot calling the kettle diabetic. And there's the spoonful of self-deprecation that helps the medicine go down.

Happy Hanukkah to one and all. May you get tchotchkes, eat latkes...and drink vodkas. It'll sound better after you look it up...

More soon...

Wide World of Sports

Hey there 'Redheads... I'm not sure I'm ready to accept the fact that it's a week deep into December. Time is flying like a clock in a catapult. The evidence was overwhelming on Saturday, when we got our first bit of snowfall. Luckily, I made sure to stockpile the essential bread, milk, and toilet paper before the big storm the Mayans tried to warn us about touched down and made the streets all damp. It wasn't even good snowball weather. All it left me with was a minor inconvenience and a hankering for a milk and toilet paper sandwich.

I'd like to thank Tiger Woods for filling the void with plenty of salacious slush to frolic in. I kind of feel sorry for Tiger, mostly because of the many double entendres that exist in golf terminology. Por ejemplo, there's no fair way to tell just how deep in the rough his balls are, but he needs to improve his lie with so many holes left to play. And it's only too perfect that there's nine strumpets (I'm bringing that word back) claiming he left a divot in their sand trap. Most women I've talked to seem to agree that the best word to describe him: Putz. Then, of course, there's the obvious cat pun that I haven't heard anyone make yet, so please pardon me while I make it here. He should probably change his name to *deep breath* Cheetah. I'm here all week. Try the veal.

If Tiger's travails weren't enough for you, then maybe you got a kick out the latest schadenfreude exhibition put on by the Washington Redskins, who outplayed the undefeated Saints for all but about two minutes of regulation. They had a chance to go up by 10 points with 1:52 remaining. Here's a reenactment of what happened next. Viggo Mortensen represents the Saints, William Hurt represents every Skins fan watching, and the henchman with the chip shot chance to seal the deal represents Shaun Suisham...

I suppose the other henchmen represent the many missed tackles of LaRon Landry... And after that, the Skins once again failed to succeed or succeeded at failure, and for all of that effort, they got squadoosh. I know the team is embroiled in a legal fight to change their name. After this loss, may I suggest they change it to the Generals. If you got trigger happy with your remote during the game, hopefully you were able to catch this infomercial gem that was on Channel 7 during the first half...

Wow, Bachelor of the Arts Baracus hawking cookware to a paid studio audience of fools not even fit for his pity... I'm pretty sure even Dirk Benedict would've turned that gig down. Mr. T's street cred shouldn't be swayed by this tiny pock mark. After all, he got past this...


Big doings in sports that don't exist, too. Of the four teams that I helmed this fantasy football season, a whopping one of them, The Minnesota Vicarious, was able to back into the playoffs, while another, The Most Humble, has an outside shot. As for the other two, I'm starting to come to grips with the fact that my fantasy just might be mediocrity and crippling disappointment. I've got it that good, apparently.

Speaking of reality, do yourself a favor and check out my comedy compadre, Ryan Conner's breakdown of the televised collision of two trains carrying a load of douche nozzles known as Jersey Shore. Click here to feel better about yourself.

To be continued...

Last Minute

Hey there 'Redheads... I managed to will myself out of my Thanksgiving food coma to shoehorn one last blog into these waning minutes of November. I hope everyone had a gullet-stuffing Turkey Day. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone...

I was a little disappointed in my overall Thanksgiving consumption. I didn't pace myself and I filled up too quick. Maybe I overdid it on spinach & artichoke dip while taking in the slate of football. Hindsight is 20/20, even though my field of vision started narrowing as the meal went on. When it was time to head home, I had to punch an extra notch in my seat belt. The only door buster deals for me were the ones I tried to wedge myself through. If I hadn't pushed away from the table, and maybe gone after another helping of pie, the medics would've needed to knock out a wall to get me. Meals like that are the reason I don't own a scale...or a Wii Fit. Wii Fit is an amazing little device, though. I hopped on one at a friend's house, and it was able to analyze my level of physical fitness, then it went online and called the paramedics. It also makes recommendations about different foods to eat. I think it told me not to buy any green bananas.

I've also been gorging myself on an unhealthy amount of cinematic mayhem as well. Over the weekend, I caught 2012 and Ninja Assassin. My expectations were low to middling for both, thus allowing me to be pleasantly surprised. When I first saw the ads for 2012, I figured it was going to just be an fragile candy shell of CGI destruction with no real velvety nougat to hold things together. The scenes of global annihilation are very well done. I'm pretty sure this was given away in the previews, but a tsunami dumps an aircraft carrier onto the White House. You also get to see California slide into the Pacific and Woody Harrelson get carbonized by a volcano erupting out of Yellowstone National Park. All of this on it's own would be pretty ho-hum, but leave it to the unassuming John Cusack and his plucky family unit to find a compelling way to survive. It was also nice to see that Oliver Platt found work. I'm pretty sure the Mayans predicted that, too.

Now, if you like your mass killing a little more up close and personal, then might I recommend Ninja Assassin. This movie isn't just a bloodbath, it's a blood jacuzzi. It's a classic tale of bloody betrayal, bloody revenge, and the resulting bloody stumps. This is the latest offering from the Wachowski brothers, who produced the flick. It does have some cool Martixy imprints on it. Their patented bullet-time effect is translated to ninja shurikens that rain death from the shadows, turning their targets to quivering piles of slurry. My only complaint, was that since ninjas operate mostly in the dark, some of the action was tough to keep track of. But there's so damn much action going on that you'll find a blood geyser no matter where you look. It's got everything you want from this kind of flick: ninjas and a renegade bad ass former ninja that kills the previously mentioned ninjas with various pointy objects.

The one movie that looks like it's going to be a giant load of crap, is Avatar. Don't get me wrong, I love me some James Cameron. Aliens and Termintaor 2 are two of the greatest pieces of sci-fi action ever made. This just looks like it's going to be an over-bloated, over-preachy piece of 3-D garbage. Don't think that putting Sigourney Weaver and cheap imitation space marines in there will fool anybody, Mr. Cameron. Don't be like Lucas and cheapen the dork memories we cherish with weak story-telling propped up by not-so-special effects. Stan Winston would not be pleased.

Ok, enough with the geek rant. Sorry about that.

That's all for now. The balcony is closed.

Running Lapse

Hey there 'Redheads... As per usual, I started off this month with the best of blogging intentions, but apparently I couldn't procrastinate more if I had a flux capacitor. It can't be helped. It's who I am... It's what I do...eventually. Let's not focus on the moments that've been frittered away. Let's live in the now. At least momentarily, until I start telling you about the crap that happened during this most recent lapse.

The holiday season has descended upon us again. Here's a holiday fun fact: Going to the grocery store for incidentals the week of Thanksgiving is the worst idea in the long sad history of bad ideas. Glaciers move faster than the checkout line I got stuck in. The lady at the front of the line was paying in food stamps. Behind her was a lady who was paying by check, then asked for cash back. I half expected the next person in line to make the transaction in wampum. I don't mind wasting time, but when it's being leeched from me, that's when I get ornery. In the spirit of the impending Turkey Day, I offer a cornycopia of mild amusement. Giblets, at least.

This is one of my favorite times of the year for sports, when pro football and college basketball overlap. Unfortunately, this give my teams twice as many chances to stick a fork in my heart and twist. I just turned off the TV in disgust as the Terps got done making Cincinnati look like the alien team from Space Jam. We're all crust and no cheese to stop up the middle. It's early in the season, but this was our first test and we overslept. And, this just in, the Redskins still suck. They are to sucking what I am to procrastinating. It's a gift. Light cannot escape them. It doesn't help that their injury report is getting thick enough for Dan Snyder to use as a booster seat. Here's a video from the 'Skins sideline during the Cowboys game...

Last night, I had the weirdest dream. I was a contestant on Project Runway, and the challenge was to make an outfit out of Legos. Should it bother me that my dreams are about reality shows? I'm hoping tonight I can get on Top Chef and show off my mad George Foreman skills. Speaking of Top Chef, I got a medium rare opportunity to dine on some four star quality grub cooked by one of the final four cheftestants. If you find yourself in Frederick, MD, do yourself a favor and treat your taste buds to Chef Bryan Voltaggio's restaurant, Volt. I was auditioning for the show Top Boyfriend and took my funny little honey there for her birthday. It was, top to bottom, one of the best meals I've ever had. I would've happily walked the green mile after dessert. If you're a fan of Top Chef, then you have some idea of the intricacy that goes into preparing each course. This is not the kind of dining experience where you ask them to put the sauces on the side or leave something off the plate. Place your trust in the chef and let him guide you through a gastric wonderland. Then pack your knives and go.

Here's a new bit of eye candy for you to suck on. When is comes to Muppets, I'm an old school guy. Not much, since Jim Henson left us, has captured the madcap glee of the past. This made me smile...

Before I sign off and prepare for my food coma, I need to congratulate my good friends, Chris and Allyson, on their engagement...and you know it's real commitment when it gets posted on Facebook. Way to go, you crazy kids.

Happy Turkey Day, 'Redheads... To gluttony! And to be continued...

Unfinished Blogness, Part 2: Nuggets

Hey there, 'Redheads... As promised in the previous installment, here's another ladle of bloggy goodness that I'm hoping is still good slightly past the sell by date. Before we dive in, I would be remiss if I didn't mention two things. First, to all of our enlisted men an women, a happy Veteran's Day. Here's to the Army and Navy and the battles they have won. Here's to America's colors, the colors that never run. May the wings of liberty never lose a feather. Second, a happy belated 40th birthday to Sesame Street. Here's to another 40 years of sunny days sweeping the clouds away. Don't party too hard...

Speaking of my googily-eyed babysitters, I spotted a story online that made me weep for the youth of today...

Sesame Street Dig at POX News Draws Backlash, Rebuke From PBS - A 2-year-old skit on Sesame Street that referenced a "trashy" news channel called POX News came under fire this week when conservative bloggers accused the long-running PBS series of a liberal bias. In the clip, Oscar the Grouch is a reporter for the Grouch News Network (GNN), but he bored one female viewer, who responds: "From now on, I'm watching Pox News. Now there's a trashy news show!" Big Hollywood, the celeb blog founded by conservative writer Andrew Breitbart, called out the old skit (re-run this week) as a jab at the mega popular news network. "The message is clear," a blogger named Stage Right noted, "I can't even sit my kids in front of Sesame Street without having to worry about the Left attempting to undermine my authority."

Really? You're lumping Sesame Street into the liberal media? Let's get a hold of ourselves here, people. Here's a Muppet News Flash for you, last time I checked, Sesame Street is a children's show. I'm pretty sure my 3 year-old nephew doesn't know what a liberal bias is, let alone his left from his right, period. He just knows he likes Elmo. Like any show on television it's trying to stay current and timely with a couple references to pop culture. If Oscar the Grouch can undermine your authority as a parent, maybe it's time to put down the Tickle-Me-Limbaugh and start spending some time with little Newt. Seeing a liberal bias in Sesame Street is like seeing Darth Vader on your morning toast, and that's just...
You are what you eat, is all I'm saying. Let's let Big Bird and the gang the gang teach kids about sharing without calling them communists, ok?

We'll be right back after this quick word from our sponsor...

...and we're back.

Here's another story that caught my eye...

HACKENSACK, N.J. - A jury convicted a Florida man Friday of murdering his former son-in-law, rejecting the man's defense that he was too fat to have run up and down a flight of stairs to commit the crime and make a quick getaway. Edward Ates looked down and shook his head in court as he was found guilty of murder charges.

The evidence against him was pretty solid. The CSI found his powdered sugar finger prints all over the murder weapon. All joking aside, this is a sad story. This means when I eat an entire sleeve of Thin Mints, I can't call it "establishing an alibi" anymore...ok, not all joking aside. Anybody else catch the guy's last name? Ates. If you're taking notes at home, kids, that story was brought to you by irony.

Before I sign off, here's another piece of eye candy for you to suck on...

To be continued...

Unfinished Blogness

Hey there 'Redheads... One of these blogs, I swear it won't be necessary for me to apologize for my abject neglect. That blog is coming, but it ain't this one... Sorry for the unacceptable lag in updates. Once again, it's been proven that I can't wait to procrastinate. Blogtober ended up with a downright paltry three entries, without a decent Halloween blog. Well, in an effort to snake out all of the backlogged blather, I give you a blog so bloated, so crammed to the gills, that it may too much for your eyes to handle in one sitting. You may need a bloggy bag. I've got enough stuff here to fill 3 or 4 installments. I'm of two minds as to how I should foist this upon you. Either I'll give it to you in three heaping helpings over the week or I'll combine all of it into a blog Devastator. We'll see how quickly carpal tunnel sets in. Onward...

I hope everyone had a happy Monday. I've never understood why Mondays get such a bad rap. If your life is so crappy, that you cease to have fun once the week starts, maybe it's not just time that isn't your friend. I digress. This blog is about living in the then. Specifically, the then of roughly a week ago, Halloween. Like with everything else, I waited 'til the last minute and between plans and potential costume ideas, I was waffling more than the breakfast buffet at the Belgian Embassy. Luckily, my buddy Seth came through for me with a costume...

I was a glow-in-the-dork. Comic book fans will recognize me as the mechanized millionaire playboy, Tony Stark...if he were a nebbishy tub of goo. Once the costume was set, I needed a place to get my 'ween on. If nothing materialized, I would've been more than happy with checking out a good zombie movie, like Zombieland or This Is It. Thankfully, since my friends haven't tired of me just yet, I was allowed to tag along to a party in DC. I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed hailing cabs with my light-up hand piece. We got to the party, which was being held in a one bedroom apartment...with a DJ. The place was packed, loud, and hot, three things that aren't necessarily conducive to fun for me, since I'm a closet claustrophobic. I felt sorry for the people with large, unwieldy costume elements, like my buddy Joe, who went as Captain America, including the shield. Or my girlfriend, who went as an art gallery, which consisted of a sandwich board of two canvases...

The bulk of my evening was spent explaining either who I was or how my costume worked. The get up was much more impressive in the dark, but even then there were a bunch of people, mostly ladies, who had no clue. One gal, when I told her I was Iron Man, responded, "The race?" There was a surprising lack of dead celebrities in attendance. The only one I spotted was a David Carradine, in a Japanese robe and tasteful noose. There was no shortage of fellow crime fighters...

There was a small shortfall on dignity.

In the spirit of Halloween, such as it is on November 9th, here's Sherman Helmsley (before he started calling plays for the Redskins) with a public service message...

My internet connection is being moody, so I'll stop here and opt for the measured helpings throughout the week. Plenty more on the way. 'Til then...

Two Fiddy

Hey there 'Redheads... Welcome to this blog's 250th installment. Any other blog of this kind would have about 3 times as many, but I've never been about the quantity...or the quality, now that I think about it. Here's to 250 more chances to mildly amuse you. I'm altering my usual blogging habits for this post. Usually, I wait until about 11:30 or midnight to milk the blog teat, succumbing to eventual exhaustion as I type into the wee hours of the morning. Today, I'm fresh as a daisy and will have one less excuse when this blog barely passes for mediocre.

I'm back from a comedy road trip that took me to Comedy Zones in Kentucky and West Virginia. The hills had eyes and they were smiling in my general direction. This was my second time back to these two clubs, and the shows went better than the stereotypes of the region might suggest. I had the pleasure of working with two time New Orleans entertainer of the year, Mutzie. Mutzie is a cool guy with an interesting look to him that I can only describe by putting it in old school pro wrestling terms. Imagine if George "The Animal" Steele talked like Dusty Rhodes. I'm glad the shows went well, because the weather stunk out loud. I had a 7 1/2 hour drive on Thursday. I didn't rain for about 15 minutes of the trip. I didn't see the sun until my drive home on Sunday. The sky was a depressing blanket of clouds...an AIDS quilt of clouds for the entire weekend. In order to at least simulate sunlight, I decided to make a return trip to the Eastern Kentucky Science Center to check out the afternoon planetarium show. I'm sure you're asking yourself what you might find at the Eastern Kentucky Science Center... Does it house Col. Sanders' top secret 11 herbs and spices? Well, here's one item on display...

Luckily, they also have a planetarium which, just like last time, I had all to myself. The program they had this time was about the Hubble. Nothing too fancy. It was like looking into a giant ViewMaster that'd been left in a hot car. Afterwards, I was treated to a complimentary laser light show set to some of today's crappiest rock hits. I was kicking myself, because one of the choices I was offered was Laser Praise. If there's one thing lasers have yet to fully convey, it's irony.

Onward to the next exotic port of call, Charleston, West Virginia. When I got to the hotel, I made the discovery that there was a casino with a poker room about twenty minutes away. Let's see... Idle time? Check. Extra cash? Check. Horrible judgement? Check. I'm not going to get into specifics, but I'll throw a quick stat at you. My average per minute in the casino was -$4. From my hopeful entrance to my shameful exit, I lost $100 in 25 minutes. Actual poker table time was more like 5 minutes. I can't even say I played horribly, because what I did doesn't qualify as playing poker. I got played. I was a goddamn slot machine with a sweatshirt on. Rather than buy back in to try and win my dignity back, I sulked back to my car, went back to my hotel room, and watched a marathon of Bully Beatdown on MTV2.

As bad as I got beat, at least I could rest easy knowing that I had a sure bet that paid off on Sunday. Go ahead and check the last installment...I called the Chiefs over the Redskins. Two field goals against the worst defense in the league. This team is so inept at scoring, they can barely get in a 3-point stance. I expected to see Snyder fiddling while the fans burnt FedEx down. The Native Americans that are suing the team over the name can just site the last six games as exhibit A that the Redskins are offensive. I do feel bad for Jim Zorn. He's like Wallace Hartley, bravely trying to make some music while the Titanic sinks into the drink. On Monday, he had his play calling duties forcibly stripped from him, and I'm pretty sure he had his credit revoked at Eastern Motors.

If you haven't heard yet, there's a huge comedy festival descending on the DC area this weekend. Tig Notaro and friends brings us The Bentzen Ball. 50 comics, from Patton Oswalt to Sarah Silverman to a cavalcade of local comedians. I'm not one of them. Don't let my veiled bitterness keep you from checking it out.

To be continued...

Blogtoberfest

Hey there 'Redheads... Short turnaround from the last installment for a change. I wanted to bolster Blogtober and sneak in a quickie before my comedy road trip this weekend (details to follow). The mornings are starting to get chilly out there...good sleeping weather. The past couple mornings, willing myself out of bed has taken longer than Uma Thurman trying to wiggle her big toe in Kill Bill.

I hope everyone had a swell Columbus Day. I celebrated in the traditional way. By gambling, drinking firewater, and cranking Iron Maiden's Run to the Hills... Sing along, won't you?

Anyone else find it mildly ironic that most of DC wanted to run the Redskins out of town today? I could've sworn somebody was running a blanket drive down at Fed Ex Field. Grab a bucket of popcorn and watch the sky fall when they lose to the Chefs (great googily moogily) next week.

I feel like Columbus must've fired his PR firm, because he's been getting a heap of bad press these last couple of years. The focus has shifted from sailing the ocean blue and discovering America to that whole decimation of the Indians thing. Some people have started referring to it as Indigenous People's Day. Others choose to celebrate the life and work of Peter Falk.

Speaking of PR firms, I'd love to meet the team behind this PSA...

Thanks to comedy compadre, Andy Kline for this little gem. Apparently, this new spot was created to address the recent upswing in domestic violence in Memphis. Which begs the question, how annoying are families in Memphis? Maybe they should just make one to run during Blue's Clues to let the kiddies know, "Don't wanna die? Don't cry." Run one on Oxygen that tells the ladies, "Don't want to be twitchin'? Quit yer bitchin'." I'm also available for children's parties, by the way...

In the last installment, my cinematic pick to click was the gruesome zomedy, Zombieland. It's splatterrific. But, if an over-the-top gorefest isn't your cup of bile, might I suggest having the bejeezus scared out of you by an understated demon possession. Go see Paranormal Activity. It's in the same low-budget vein as The Blair Witch Project, but this one actually lives up to the hype. This flick is nightmare fuel. My only complaint was with the jerky camera work that this style of film making requires. Nothing like some nausea to go with your heart attack.

I'd like to announce that I'm still in the running for the Nobel Prize for Procrastination. Should hear from the committee any day now...

For those of you in the West Virginia area, I'll be at the Comedy Zone in Charleston, WV this weekend. Always nice to see some friendly faces in the crowd. Click the link for tix and info.

See ya in a few...

Undead, Fundead...

Hey there 'Redheads... The usual combination of sloth and procrastination has kept me from updating the blog in a timely fashion. September slipped by with only three lousy installments, but I'm hoping for a stout and hearty Blogtober. Much like Christmas takes over all of December, this month gets swallowed by the jack o'lantern's maw of Halloween. If it's dead, undead, or screaming its last breath, this is the time to indulge all of your morbid curiosities. If you're still reading, you've probably noticed that the laughter was strangled out of this blog a couple sentences ago...

Among my favorite macabre mascots are zombies, which is why I give two severed thumbs up to Zombieland. Easily, the best zomedy since Shaun of the Dead and a great zombie movie period. It'll eat your brain and slurp the marrow from your funny bone. From the driving opening credits set to Metallica's "For Whom The Bell Tolls" to a brilliant homage to the greatest paranormal comedy ever made, this is the most fun you'll have watching the world end. After the movie, I bumped into a couple people who thought it was a documentary...

When it comes to zombies, some people are divided on a key issue: shamblers or sprinters? Zombie purists prefer their undead to shuffle toward their prey with excruciating inevitability. The 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead gave us zombies that could full on sprint. It just depends how you want your brains eaten. I kind of prefer the shamblers, only because I'd like to think I could outrun a dead guy. I need to get back to the gym. Right now, the only way I break a sweat is if I freeze some then drop it on the floor. But I digress. One last cool zombie thing before I move on. Check this out...

Right now, that's just a fan trailer for a book, but here's hoping that George Lucas is looking to shake a few more nickels out of us soon. I'd buy that for a dollar.

You know who else is hoping that book gets made into a movie? R. Kelly...

R&B singer/songwriter R. Kelly revealed that despite his musical talents, he suffers from illiteracy and barely made it through grade school. The Grammy winner recently spoke at the Midwest Music Festival in Chicago, about the trials and tribulations of starting his career.

I guess that's one less thing the "R" stands for. Now that I think about it, that probably explains why he shortened it to R. It might also explain the complex metaphor, "You remind me of my jeep." Anybody else catch the curious word choice in that blurb? He "suffers" from illiteracy. Last time I checked, there wasn't a book allergy. He can suffer from dyslexia, but outside of that I'm guessing it's a raging case of stupid. If illiteracy was contagious, it would be impossible to diagnose it from WebMD.

Before I wrap things up, the DC area lost an icon today. Ben Ali, the man behind Ben's Chili Bowl died at age 82 of congestive heart failure. I've enjoyed many a Ben's half-smoke during this past baseball season. Most times, it was best part of the Nats games. Keep your eyes peeled for a Bill Cosby sighting. I'm sure he'll be in town to pay his respects...and give a rambling eulogy. Ben, you'll live on inside us all.

That's all for now. My illiteracy is flaring up...

Me Olde

Hey there 'Redheads... We're on the back end of September, which seems like it's only a week long. With time on an out of control rocket sled toward the future, I find myself reflecting on my life and a piece of it that I'll never get back. That's right, I just got done watching The Jay Leno Show. Wow, what a clunky pile of dreck that thing is. I realize it's only in its second week, and it may still be looking for its comedy stride, but holy crap. It's tough to find your stride with a charlie horse in one leg and polio in the other. His guest on tonight's show was Pee Wee Herman. Nice to see Jay burnt through his celebrity Rolodex in the first week. They talked about when he got bit by the acting bug, and then he made Jay a salad. I wish I was kidding... I wish they were kidding... I almost euthanized my TV.

Speaking of finding your stride in the second week, howabout them Redskins, huh? They sputtered through another 60 minutes of football and narrowly beat the hapless Rams 9 to 7. And they were roundly booed by the home crowd. I can't imagine why. It's week two and your punter has more touchdowns than your starting running back. To the Redskins, the endzone is a mythical place, and the two members of the team that've crossed its magical threshold tell the tallest tales of the creatures that frolic there. I'm not one to boast about my athletic prowess but, through two weeks, I have comparable stats to Redskin wide receiver, Santana Moss. I only have 5 fewer catches, 41 fewer yards, the same number of touchdowns, and I haven't fumbled. I'm expecting a contract offer from the team any time now. I'm no Cowboy fan either, but that monstrosity of a stadium that Jerry Jones built is pretty impressive. That place is so huge, the bathroom attendant is a Minotaur. After they lost to the Giants, I expected Jerry's withered visage to show up on that massive jumbotron, give the thumbs down, and release the lions to eat Romo. By the way, Jerry Jones should never ever be in HD. He looks like he chose the wrong grail.

By the way, Happy 5770 to everybody. That's right, Jews control show business and time travel. Wow, 5770...shit's crazy. Anyone else think we're way overdue for...

Keeping with the theme of lost time and wasted potential, it's my birthday on Thursday. I'll be 34...17 again...the 13th anniversary of my 21st birthday...the combined maturity of 17 two-year-olds. At some point this week, I'll be plunging a candle into the blow hole of Fudgy the Whale. I'm not treating 34 like it's old or anything. You're only as old as you feel, so I've been 80 for a couple years now anyway. I got a small taste of life's fragility earlier this week. I hit a bird with my car on my way to work. It just flew right out in front of me. What a way to start the morning. Just my luck. It didn't have insurance and it didn't speak English...

On the off chance any of you were thinking about buying me a birthday present, allow me to drop this subtle hint...

BUY ME THIS

Huge show coming up this Saturday, in the DC Improv Comedy Lounge...

Jason Weems
Steve Coltrain
Doug Powell
Erin Jackson
...and me.

Even if you're sick of me, this show is gonna be awesome. Miss it at your peril. Click here for tix.

To be continued...

Four... Score.

Hey there 'Redheads... This introductory part of every installment, where I apologize for not blogging in awhile, then make a few witty self-deprecating statements designed to lower your expectations, while piquing your curiosity to read further... Yeah, I'm having some trouble with that. Let's just take it as a given and move on, shall we? There's alot to get to. Where to start? Didja see those VMA's? Howabout that rabble rousing upstart, Kanye West ruining poor Taylor Swift's big moment, huh? Wow, and then Beyonce graciously giving Taylor a chance to finish her acceptance speech. Oh, and howabout anybody still giving a shit about MTV? Really, people. Get a hold of yourselves. Arguing over who is more deserving of a video music award is kinda like arguing over who would be faster in a race, if they were both gerbils. It's arbitrary and irrelevant. And it was probably staged anyway. If this incident proves anything, it's that Kanye West doesn't care about white people. I think my feelings can best be expressed in song...written and sung by Adam Dodd...

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, on to stuff that matters... Like fantasy football. I went 2-2 over the weekend. My four fantasy teams had me crunching numbers like Rain Man on meth. Again, I won't bore you with all the statistical minutiae, but the Minnesota Vicarious are going to be a hypothetical force to be virtually reckoned with this season, with a passing attack that includes Drew Brees, Randy Moss, Reggie Wayne, and Santonio Holmes. Just sayin'...

In real NFL goings on, I'd like to thank Jake Delhomme for his 5 turnover performance on Sunday, because it gives me an excuse to trot out one of my favorite lines... *ahem* I've seen fewer balls thrown away in a dog neutering facility. And scene. Howabout those Redskins, huh? That offense is a garbage fire. If you go into halftime and your punter has scored your only touchdown, I think it's time to stop basing your game plan on a previous night's bar bet. The defense didn't do much better. I've heard of the bend-but-don't-break defense, but this squad did the kind of bending that is usual reserved for Cirque du Soleil. It's a long season, and this was just the first game, but the 'Skins appear to have more holes than the Penthouse Invitational golf tournament.

The inevitable zombie uprising got a little more rhythm, as we lost Patrick Swayze yesterday. He finally got put in a corner by pancreatic cancer. Of course, he'll be remembered for his iconic roles in Dirty Dancing, Ghost, Road House, Red Dawn, and Point Break, but I'll always remember him for this little number...

Swayze, we hardly knew ye...

For those of you who give a crap and are curious about this installment's title, today (or yesterday now) marks this blog's 4th anniversary. I started this exercise in self importance shortly after moving in to Stately Stern Manor. Thanks for reading...and for not impeaching me.

To be continued...

To the Nines...

Hey there 'Redheads... It's 9/09/09 (at least it was when I started writing this), a once in a hundred years event. So, I figure why not write a blog that is just as mediocre as the last hundred? Somehow, it got to be September already, when I'm pretty sure it was June a couple weeks ago. Right on cue, after Labor Day, a shroud of gloom has swept across the land. It's cold and gray and downright dismal outside. Allow this beacon of mild amusement to be a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I just bought new ribbons for my 1000 monkeys' typewriters...time to rattle their cage.

For me, these last couple days have been consumed with circumventing reality. I've had four fantasy football drafts in the last week, and I'm itching to let the stats fly on the delusional gridiron. I won't bore you with in-depth analysis, I'll just share my favorite of my four team names...The Minnesota Vicarious. I'm just happy that the NFL is back in all of its grass stained glory. I've had enough of tennis and soccer and baseball. Let's kickoff and hit something.

I'm also pretty excited because I found evidence to disprove gravity...

Someone give this guy a mascot contract...or a ninja outfit. And let me take this time to emphasize that the videos I slap on this blog are to enhance the overall blog experience. Watch them. Just a public service message, because I think alot of you just skim and leave the links and videos alone. They're eye candy for you to suck on. Just saying is all...

Speaking of sour eye candy, while channel surfing the other day, I landed on the SyFy opus, Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus. The movie had some pretty innovative concepts, like using a cardboard stand-up of Lorenzo Lamas for all of his scenes. If Lamas was any more wooden, they could've used him for kindling. I know the economy is tight, but they've gotta find some way of bumping up these SyFy effects budgets. I've seen better visual effects on a Lite Brite. I could've concocted more compelling action sequences with a flip camera, a Jaws poster, and a wacky wall walker. It did offer one pretty cool visual, though...

Enough with the bad acting. I present to you a genuine adorable 3-year-old who has it all figured out. She has taken the phenomena of Facebook and Twitter and distilled them to their essence with a song...

That's pretty much what it is. We are all 3-year-olds clamoring for attention without really knowing why.

Quick reminder: I'm opening for God's Pottery @ DC9 on Sunday, the 13th. I'm hoping to see some friendly faces out there, because DC9 is primarily a music venue. Music crowds don't know how to behave when stand-up hits the stage. I need you guys to keep those chattering hipsters in line. Click here for tix and info. See you there...

To be continued...

Everlasting Blogstopper

Hey there 'Redheads... Blogust is just about over and, once again, I'm just about overdue. But, since we had a clog in the blog supply lines, there's been a build-up of content...a bountiful corny-copia of anecdotes and witticisms await you. Sound the feasting horn. I'm just getting back to the grind after six straight days of shows and roughly 1300 miles driven.

I'll get to that timeline in a bit, but first let's wind the clock back 10 days to tell you about the show I did in Indian Head, MD with my good buddy, Chris White. I don't know if you realize this, but Indian Head is a place of great historical significance. Maybe you read the book when you were a kid. Indian Head is where the sidewalk ends. There wasn't much out there, except for the building excitement for the comedy cluster bomb we were about to drop.
We descended upon the Black Box Theater armed with good intentions and middling expectations. The place seated 85. We drew 23, elevating the show to rumor status. Those in attendance saw the premiere of our latest video sketch, which, if you'll dim the lights at your desk, I'll now show you. Enjoy The International Guilt-Off...

Please to make us viral. Or at least bacterial. Make it worth a handi-wipe.

On to my week-long mild amusement tour of North Carolina. My trip was kicked off by my truck's air conditioning compressor going kablooey, costing me roughly what I'd be making for the week. Good thing I don't do this for the money...oh wait. With the repair done just in time for me to make the initial 6 hour schlep, I made my way to the first stop, Lake Norman. The show was above a fun little Irish pub called The Galway Hooker. Located directly across the street was a pole dancing school. There's a recital I want to attend. I peeked in the window to take a gander...very clean mirrors. We had a surprisingly packed house for a Tuesday night. Good times. After the show, I got to talking to one of the hostesses at the bar downstairs. The conversation turned to future plans and she mentioned that her dream was to be an underwater welder. Add a midget playing bocce ball, and that would be an actual dream I once had. Apparently, underwater welding is a highly paid vocation. Probably because they know how to light a torch underwater. It makes me wish I had pursued that underwater basket weaving degree...to have a skill to fall back on.

Wednesday was a night off from the slate of shows, but I still wanted to be comedically productive. Luckily, my buddy John Betz Jr. lives in Raleigh and was able to to get me on a showcase he was headlining at Charlie Goodnight's. When I got to Raleigh, I had some time to kill before meeting John at the club. Turns out, Goodnight's is a stone's throw from NC State, so I figured why not take a stroll through campus and see just how tough it is for a 33 year old to blend in. It's back to school time, so there was a huge outdoor poster sale going on for the disaffected youth to adorn their dorms. I took a look at the selection. They were the same goddamn posters they sold when I was in college 12 years ago. Reservoir Dogs, Scarface, Pulp Fiction...don't these kids have any cultural references of their own that're worth slapping on a wall? After about a half hour of walking around in the heat, my ass crack became more of an ass creek, so I retreated to the car for an much needed blast of air conditioning. I scanned through the local radio stations and landed on a gospel station. They went to their station meteorologist for a weather report. I half expected him to say, "Whatever happens, it's God's will. Back to you." It finally came time for the show, which was an open mic all stars show. A collection of the club's finest regular local comics...and me. If you've never had the pleasure, do yourself a favor and get down to Goodnight's. The Wednesday showcase was sold out and the crowd was amazing. Can't wait to get back there.

After basking in the warm glow of Raleigh, it was off to Greenville for a show at the Comedy Zone. I'm a big fan of any place where you perform in the same location as your accommodations. It makes it easier to stumble to bed without risking injury. Good thing, because in Greenville I was introduced to sweet tea vodka. Holy crap, could I get into alot of trouble with that stuff. Not since somebody gave a baby a hand grenade has a combination been so dangerous. My one complaint about this trip through NC was the lack of sweet tea guzzling. The last time, with all the sweet tea I drank, I brought home a great souvenir of the trip...diabetes. The show went ok. A bit too much slack-jawed gawkery for my taste, but they can't all be winners.

The rest of the trip went great. I've exhausted all the major tidbits, and I'm a smidge exhausted myself. Before I finish up, I'd like to unabashedly plug a few local shows I have coming up...

Friday, Aug. 28th - I'll be making my return to the late night Bar Bacon Fun Time Comedy Show up in Baltimore. The line-up is pretty stacked... Andy Kline, Hampton Yount, Aparna Nacherla, and possibly Dr. Doom...you heard me.

Saturday, Aug. 29th -

Sept. 13th - I'll be opening up for the musical comedy duo, God's Pottery, at DC9...more info to come, but mark your calendars accordingly.

To be continued...

Blog #243

Hey there 'Redheads... This installment is going to be a placeholder for a bigger blog that'll get written this weekend and will include the debut of a brand new video sketch collaboration with comedy super friend, Chris White. Be sure to check out our previous work, conveniently linked on the right-hand side of the page. In the meantime, I'm going to go ahead and whore this space out to plug a big show on Saturday...

See you there...

And here with all of the aftershow afterglow...