Friday, January 30, 2004  

Oscar Hyperbole

(That might be my new fake name for calling comedy clubs, actually...)

But I digress. I can't take any more drippy praise for Charlize Theron in Monster. Maybe it's a great movie. I don't know. I have a 2-year old, so I don't get to see movies. But I keep hearing about HOW BRAVE she was for letting them make her up to look so ugly.

That's right. She's SO BRAVE because she had the guts to LOOK LIKE THE REST OF US for a while. Fuck you, mister fireman. You're not so brave after all. Charlize PUT ON WEIGHT and had BLOTCHY SKIN for 3 whole weeks! Don't you know sacrifice when you see it? Don't you recognize selflessness? For a HOT CHICK to look like REGULAR PEOPLE...I'm sorry...I can't go on. My tears are ruining my shirt.

Who Knew?

Ross Garmil, close personal friend and co-creator of the Grand High Council has a blog, which has apparently been up and running for a while.

Uh, Ross...?

Day Job Danger

Oh, god, here we go again. I've hit that point in the life cycle of every day job that marks the beginning of the endgame. Right now, I am so bored I'm dizzy, and yet so overwhelmed with work I want to barf and cry, in that order. I'm completely disengaged, completely fucking off, and spending too much time loading and reloading and reloading the Kvetch Board, Penny Arcade, or the William Gibson board, praying to Christ Above that something, anything, interesting is happening somewhere in my narrow little window on the world. I have near-erotic daydreams about buying a pack of cigarettes and just sitting in Cambridge Common and chainsmoking my life away while the stupid phone just rings and rings and the spoiled rich fucks I work for collectively get the message and go pound sand.

WHY FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK CAN I NOT JUST BE A COMEDIAN?

Conspiracy Lite

I am currently working my way through Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code, which I am hereby dubbing "Focault's Pendulum for Dummies." That's probably not entirely fair, but I still haven't forgiven Mr. Brown (echoes of Reservoir Dogs) for taking the Priory of Sion mainstream.

For about a decade, I've been interested in the Priory, the Bloodline of Jesus, the Knights Templar, the Masons, Egyptian symbology, secret societies, the Rosicrucians, and so forth. I've bought dozens of books from bunches of sketchy bookstores, combed the web for some seriously freaky sites, and grooved on the conspiracy of it all at 3:00 am. And now, there it all is, just laid out for the good ladies of Oprah's Book Club. It's like when your favorite band becomes an overnight sensation, and suddenly 12-year old girls at the mall are rocking out to YOUR MUSIC. All that said, it's a good read. He certainly knows what he's talking about, even if his plot is a little stock so far. I get the impression this book was written with an eye towards selling the screen rights easily.

Some Thoughts on Gay Marriage

As we steam into the presidential campaign, it looks like both sides are going to try to make some political hay out of gay marriage. Massachusetts is well on the way to legalizing it, and of course, the hubbub is starting.

I don't quite understand the opposition. Conservatives seem to think that legalizing marriage for homosexuals will somehow erode the notion of heterosexuality. Let me give you my two cents. Since I got married, I've lost weight, begun wearing more stylish clothes that fit better, hosted a myriad of dinner parties, bought and installed window treatments, learned to make a champagne cocktail, received and used Aveda and Nivea skin care products, started wearing organic bay rum cologne, and argued with my wife over scented candles. Near as I can tell, marriage pretty much makes you gay. Seems like the institution is doing a fine job of eroding my heterosexuality all by itself.

I'm also curious now that the Commonwealth has given gay marriage a green light, how many versions of this conversation are going on around the state:

Guy 1: We can finally get married! You always said you'd marry me if they allowed it.

Guy 2: Uh, yeah, about that...look, over there! (Dashes out)

And if two dudes get married, how do they decide which one stops giving blowjobs?

Giant Tumor Update

According to the BBC, the Romanian woman with the giant tumor is doing well. You'll also notice that the BBC article confirms the numerical data quoted in my act. World record: 302 pounds.

Note to young comics. This is an example of how old bits magically transform into fresh bits. The 3% of you that will still be doing comedy two years from now should keep this in mind.

Jesus Fuck, Dr. Dean

Well, I don't know about you, but I do believe I'll cross Howard Dean off my "Maybe Could Be President" list. I'm sure that getting his ass handed to him in Iowa was stressful, but his bizarro speech/primal scream said to me that he's not the kind of cool little cucumber I personally want to give access to the button. Can you imagine playing Monopoly with him?

Kid: Okay, dad, you landed on Baltic. That's 12 bucks.

Dean: You might have Baltic, but I'm going to get Pennsylvania! And Tennessee! And New York! And Connecticut! And then I'm going to get St. Charles! And Oriental! And then I'm going to get Boardwalk and Park Place and put a hotel on it and get back my money! YAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Kid: Christ, dad, relax.

Ananova - Woman to have 12 stone tumour removed

Ananova - Woman to have 12 stone tumour removed

It's a gross picture, but everyone in the universe is sending me the link, since thanks to this bit, I seem to be the go to guy for giant tumor stories.

Urgent Plea for De-Assification

Hey, all...

I'm noodling with the site, but for me, "noodling" translates to "cutting html code from other sites and trying to figure out how to make it work." If some kind wandering web Samaritan wants to let me know why my style sheets look like ass in Mozilla/Netscape, I would be eternally grateful and would buy you a beer. Adam Pearlman, I'm looking in your direction.

Ice, Ice, Baby...

It's so cold here that they cancelled school because the OUTDOORS might KILL THE CHILDREN. Why in the fuck would people settle here? How bad must the King have been for the Pilgrims to stay here? I'm pretty sure I woulda been like, "Thanks for the pumpkin pie, but this SUCKS! You savages can freeze your balls off, I'm going home. The Church of England is oppressive, but at least it's fucking WARM."

Become the Media!!!

The digital revolution continues:

The Brand New Boston Comix Moblog

(P.S. I realize it may be a bit of an overstatement to call two grainy pictures of Sam Walters and myself a "revolution," but give me time to get some good stuff up there.)

I can't decide if I want to run it all myself or open it up to anyone in the Boston comedy scene with a futurephone. I think I'll err on the side of democracy and then slam the door shut later if it gets too stupid. I anticipate many shots of Chris Walsh's hog.

True Story

From a local comic comes this resounding endorsement of Poor Impulse Control:

"True story.

I was coming back to a funeral for a friend in Springfield, and got caught in a speed trap doing 85 on the Mass Pike.

The cop came up to my window and said "Sir, do you realize how fast you, oh, sorry father."

It took an extreme effort not to do a double take.

"Excuse me?", I replied, feigning nonchalance.

"Well, Father, I am sorry to have to pull you over but you were going a little fast there. It must have been those CDs you were listening to. "

I looked around, and realized. I was wearing a black suit, pants and shirt all black. I had the directions to the funeral folded on the seat next to me that looked from a distance a lot like a priest collar. On the seat next to the paper, was my CD player with three CDs in plain view.

One was the Reverend Horton Heat "Forgive the Sinners", but my CD player blocked it just right, so you could only see "The Reverend" and "Forgive the Sinners".

Next to that was the Cd of my friends punk band "Father Jack's Dilemna."

And there in plain view was The Reverend Tim McIntire "Poor Impulse Control".

I came back to my senses. "Yes, they are quite good for the mind and spirit."

"Ah, well, Father, just slow down okay. I won't ticket you, but take it easy."

"Thank you."

"That Reverend Tim McIntire, I never heard of him. Is he good?"

"He a Protestant, but he can really move a crowd." "


Thanks, JJ...you made my day!

Self-Indulgent Artistic Noodling - FAIR WARNING

I just had to get this out of my head. It's boring and not in the least funny...so skip it if you want to.

So I bagged the Studio on Thursdays, and already I can tell it was the right choice. I feel a little fire in the gut that I vaguely remember as being related to the creative impulse. It's good knowing that I'll have to get off my ass a little and ask people for stage time if I want to try something new. Not that I've wanted to try anything new for an awful long time, mind you. It really struck me today how apathetic I've become...not just in my writing, but about being a comic in general.

When you first start, EVERYTHING is grist for the mill. You're so excited to even be doing this stuff that you churn over every news story, scandal, family legend, stupid friend, drunken binge...all you want is material, and you can't write fast enough. Something like Schwartzeneggar getting elected is a gift from God, 5 pages of jokes, easy. Sure, they'd all blow, but you'd be on fire to write them, because you were finally a comedian, and that's what you want to DO.

Then you get some traction, some notoriety, and the impulse changes, but it's still strong. Now you have to get gigs, so you gotta kill. Or you get a following, and you want to keep them. Something happens, and you sit down at the computer or in the coffee shop, and your process is mature now. You don't bang out 5 pages of shit. You know your voice, so it's maybe 2 pages of decent stuff, lots of potential. You know that in a week, you'll have weeded out the crap jokes and you'll have a kickass new 3 minutes that you can't wait to tell. You hit open mikes you usually avoid because you're dying to try them out.

I am in such a different place now, and I don't know if it's a sign of artistic maturity or the begining of the end, but that impulse, that "shit, I gotta write about that" moment has all but disappeared on me. Everyone seems funnier than me these days. Hell, Dennis Kuchinich had a great line about the Bush administration going to Mars ("I see they're still looking for the weapons of mass destruction"). FUCKING DENNIS KUCHINICH is writing funnier stuff than me. Margaret Cho, who I personally consider to be about as funny as colo-rectal cancer, got off a couple of good ones at the MoveOn.org awards about the Bush/Hitler ads. I mean, there's national buzz about Bush being like Hitler, and it didn't even DAWN on me to try to write jokes. Ditto Bush going to Mars. I mean, I'm even supposedly a political comic, a satirist. But my muse is asleep at the wheel, man. I mean, I've gone through periods of writers block or a streak of bad shows, but at least I was actively engaged in being a comic. Maybe a shitty one at the time, but I was awake for what was going on. I heard Bush was going to announce a Mars expedition, and I muttered "what a dick." That's the sum total of my creative impulse. "What a dick."

My wife's ex-fiance writes comments in her LiveJournal that are fucking funny. Like really, really funny. And he's getting a masters in social work or something. Yet he's writing good stuff! Where the hell am I? I honestly don't know if I've just evolved artistically and am so wrapped up in being intimate that I no longer need stuff like the Mars mission to get me going or if I'm really in a downswing. I know I *can* write good jokes. Sometimes I even do, but man, I miss that drive, that irresistible urge to be the guy who has the great joke about something. Like I said, maybe this is what it's like to be a mature performer, but it sure feels like I've taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Hardcore

I ran into Harvard Square to drop a book off to the buddy who loaned it to me, and lingered around the outdoor chess boards to see if I could peep any action for my newfound hobby. Nobody was playing (it's colder than Dick Cheney's heart out today), but there were some dudes hanging around that just LOOKED like chess masters. Heavy beards and crazy eyes...and one of them had a jailhouse tat of a Staunton Queen on the back of his hand. When spring springs, I believe I'm gonna go witness some hardcore chess throwdowns.

I'm Pathetic

While bored at work, I loaded up Blogger's random list of blogs, thinking I'd find something interesting to read. There was one called "Bam Diary." How sad is it that I sighed with disappointment when I found out it was about earthquake victims and not the guy from Jackass?

Crimefighters!

While walking to our car from Return of the King, I had to snap a picture of this window display:



Now THAT would be one hell of a crimefighting team! I also like how Lara Croft is giving Elvis a crusty because his suit is shinier than hers. How weird is it that you can buy cardboard standups of a dead rockstar, a busty movie character, and the actual president? How do the three of them end up getting made by the same people? It's like one of those Mensa games, where you have to find out the common thread that unites the set...

Return of the King

This weekend was our five-year wedding anniversary, so we dumped Jude with his auntie and lived like grownups. Saturday night was spent at an upscale "neo-Bosnian" restaurant, which was awesome, and then watching Eddie Izzard's Dress to Kill (more on that in a different post). Sunday morning, we hoofed it to Liberty Tree Mall and finally saw Return of the King, which I loved. Each of the 14 endings was better than the last, and I never thought I'd see the day where I'd hear a mall theatre full of sniffles for dead hobbits.

We picked Jude up afterwards, and while Jeniphir put him to bed, I got absolutely raped by ChessMaster. I'm now its ChessBitch. I don't know that I'm ever going to get the hang of this goddamn game, but I'm still hanging in there.

Hollywoof - Update

Shit...a Google search shows I'm going to have to buy some fuckers out before I get going on Hollywoof.

Hollywoof

I'm cutting and pasting an IM conversation I had with rock star comic John Keating. This is my ticket to stardom, baby!

doublejj72: Kyle's still here
doublejj72: he's here until Tuesday...his Mom lives in N. Hollywoof
doublejj72: wood
RevTimmyMac: Ha!
RevTimmyMac: Hollywoof.
RevTimmyMac: I like it.
RevTimmyMac: A sitcom about animal actors and their agents.
RevTimmyMac: Let's do it.
RevTimmyMac: Get writing.
doublejj72: LOL
doublejj72: BRILLIANT
RevTimmyMac: We could sell that, easy.
doublejj72: lol sadly, yes
doublejj72: haha
doublejj72: I just don't want to write it
RevTimmyMac: Oh, sure. You're an "artist"
RevTimmyMac: Whatever.
doublejj72: nothing to do with art...I just have taste lol
RevTimmyMac: Don't come crying to me to get on the Hollywoof gravy train.
doublejj72: hahaha
RevTimmyMac: Seriously.
RevTimmyMac: Talking animals.
RevTimmyMac: Guest voices.
RevTimmyMac: This is going to be HUGE.
RevTimmyMac: Benji's going to be a total prick.
doublejj72: lol
doublejj72: yah I've heard about him...ass
RevTimmyMac: You can't see a hot young agent sitting down with his client...a raccoon..."I've got you an audition for Animal Cops...don't blow this..."
doublejj72: lol
doublejj72: here's a cookie
RevTimmyMac: And you know who's the biggest star of them ALL?
RevTimmyMac: Ubu.
RevTimmyMac: He's the fucking DeNero of Hollywoof.
RevTimmyMac: Nobody sits like Ubu.
RevTimmyMac: Nobody.
RevTimmyMac: He's a good dog.

Woo Hoo!

Just won my first game of chess against someone other than my computer over at Yahoo Chess. Take THAT, metsfan7833!

(P.S. Sean Lilly, if that was you, sorry to talk smack)

Just In Time

Timing is everything. Dave Wildman has written a great feature on the Geek Council. You can see Mr. Wildman tonight as he sits on Council...it should be a hoot.

All Good Things Must Come to An End

It's official: after tomorrow's Grand High Council, I am stepping down as host of Thursday nights at the Comedy Studio. It's been a good long run, and I'm proud of the work that came out of it, but what was once a challenge has become something of a rut, and I think the club and the night could use a nice shot in the arm, creatively speaking. Thanks to Ricky J for his support over the years. I'll still headline the occasional weekend and do plenty of spots, but it's definitely time for me to make way for the new wave.

Happy New Year!

I gave myself a nice long break from doing anything even remotely creative. I spent the last 2 weeks or so rolling around with Jude, playing Halo, eating recipes from my new Santa Fe cookbook, and making out with my kickass wife.

I spent New Year's in Orono, Maine at the Black Bear Inn. It was a fun show followed by drinking. Unfotunately, the best whisky they had was Jack Daniel's, so I took it easy, tossed down my champagne at midnight, and went back to my room. Nothing like waking up in a Best Western on New Year's Day with a 4 hour drive home in front of you.

My New Year's resolution is to get better at chess. Not a real sexy resolution, but after over a decade of stand up comedy, the logical side of my brain is completely limp, except for those sections that are absolutely pickled by booze (also a direct result of a decade of standup). I've always wanted to have the attention span to play chess, but so far am still getting my ass whipped by ChessMaster 6000 (could they come up with a gayer name?). If anyone out there wants to kick my ass in person and then explain what the hell just happened, let me know.

I also got some good Christmas loot. I made the mistake of letting my wife know how much I dig Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, so 95% of my presents were Product. I am one exfoliated motherfucker.