Friday, April 09, 2004  

Today's Globe; Show Tomorrow

Hey, all...

Just a quick blast to let you know about this article in today's Boston Globe about me and Peter Dutton hosting shows at the Milky Way in Jamaica Plain. So far, it's terrific over there, and I really expect this room to take off like crazy. And the pizza's good, too.

Private show tonight in Lewiston, Maine. Tomorrow at Tabu Nightclub in Plattsburgh, NY. I have every reason to believe that the ferry (you know it's a good gig when you have to take a ferry) will end up closed for Easter, and Sam Walters and I will be stranded in Plattsburgh indefinitely.

Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?

Because on other nights, I don't eat a piece of brisket bigger than my face.

Once again, I was fortunate enough to attend a Passover seder at the Poulten house in Chelmsford, Mass. Sam and Gail, parents of comic Benari Poulten, quite generously invited Jeniphir and me to one a couple of years ago, and last night, I got to go again. I suspect that the Poultens' is much less traditional than other seders (Rabbi Jose the Puerto Rican is quoted liberally, and Sam plays the theme from M*A*S*H on the trumpet), but man, do they know how to throw a feast. Between the Manischewitz, the food, and the yelling, I have a Judaism hangover this morning. I even kinda liked the gefilte fish, which my wife calls "the hot dog of the sea." More than one person, I suspect, was distracted trying to figure out how the yarmulke stayed on my head (tip: two days of not shaving = velcro on one's noggin). Also, thanks to the horseradish, certain things have taken on a somewhat purple hue, which is a bit disconcerting.

Doesn't matter. I love this family. Hell, I love this religion. Monotheism and brisket? That's all I need!

I tried to bring a hostess gift, but couldn't find anything that was kosher for Passover. I tried, but got confused. I thought "parve" meant it was kosher enough...turns out, it's just regular kosher. I bought some turkish delight with rosewater, on the assumption that all weird-looking candy is kosher by default, but no dice. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the TURKS aren't making Passover food.

Also: local comic Dan Sulman was invited to this seder, but declined to come and went to a comedy show instead. Thus, I am a better Jew than Dan Sulman.

All jokes aside (just what you like in a comedy newsletter, huh?), I cannot imagine a more generous bunch of people than Clan Poulten, and I just want to thank them for making a goy from Colorado feel so welcome. NEXT YEAR IN DENVER! Er, uh...you know what I mean.

Kurt Cobain

Kurt Cobain killed himself 10 years ago -- I bring it up because I just read this. Goddamn, my wife can WRITE.

Comedy Under the Cross; Manchester; Miscellany

Wow. Fun shows on Saturday. If you'll dig the picture to the left, you'll see Our Blessed Virgin Mother in statue form. A lovely piece of art, and a lovely theological concept. Not, however, what you want to see at the entrance to your comedy gig. Seems our agent forgot to mention to all three of us that this show was to be in the Parish Hall of St. Joseph's Church in Amesbury. Picture three comics standing in the back of the room staring at the massive crucifix hanging over the microphone, our jaws hanging open, and a collective, "Oh, there's no fucking way..." Turns out, a different group had rented the hall from the church, and for the first time in my comedy career, the thought, "Oh, thank God-they're Rotarians" went through my mind. Then it was a quick drive up to Manchester for the show at the Chateau, where it was packed to the rafters with one of the best crowds I've ever had. I did close to an hour standing on my head, though the YELLOW lights sure made me look like I had advanced liver disease. Brisk album sales and a generous bartender made for a lovely aftershow conversation.

Smoke-free for 2 days so far, thank you very much. I've been wrestling with this for months now. I'll smoke for a few days, quit for a week, then get lazy and start up. Well, I'm serious this time, and it's a good thing, because I was such an insufferable prick due to nicotene withdrawal yesterday that I think my wife's support and goodwill is all used up. Since I've been smoking on the downlow, I've been trying to quit on the downlow, so essentially, as far as she knew, I've just randomly been being a prick. I finally had to confess so she didn't divorce me on general principle. It was a good call, because I was an asshole without peer yesterday, thanks to the detox. We tried to go out to lunch, but Jude was in full two-year-old mode, and threw such a tantrum trying to get back into his car seat that I had to walk away from the whole ordeal simply in order to keep a stranger from calling DSS when I lost my freaking mind. Toddler petulance + nicotene fit = blind, red, rage. The fact that I was seriously considering throwing him across the street like a football is providing much needed incentive to stay quit, thank you very much.

And the baseball season is upon us. Since Sam Walters was my sponsor for citizenship in Red Sox Nation, I spent last night at the Hong Kong with him watching Pedro bean people and getting reassured that losing the opener is good luck.