What You Are Laughing At

Is That A Threat?

I got a call for a Pat Wilson run in May... Rah Rah Rah. Hey, anybody wanna tell jokes to drunken hicks who are more interested in shouting "show us yer boobs!" to the new waitress over your jokes, while you drive 250 miles and make $175? Sorry, I'm worth more than that. I get this line from the booker, "Well, you need to call with your available dates at least 2 months in advance, because we're booking that far ahead." And the tone was "you're going to be missing out. Your loss!" Maybe they caught me on a bad day, but they want to threaten me with THAT? WITH WHAT? When will I ever reach my goal of MC'ing the Bremerton Howard Johnson??? There's nothing more entertaining than a comedian with money in their pocket. They don't need the $50, so they're gonna pull that funny trigger until you're riddled with funnies. Pat Wilson runs are like vibrators with no batteries. I understand the need, but really, there's nothing in it for you.

The Almost Best Revenge

As you may have read, I sit near some rather "differently pleasant" people. They make a lot of different noises, from daily coughing fits you can set your watch to (if I know when it will happen, how do they miss it?), to whistling for the sake of looking less like a knob (call it Mission Impossible). So I decided that from now on, whenever they are eating at their desk, I'm going to add a little ambience to the meal... I'm now clipping my fingernails exclusively at work. Those clippings will fly, people, cover your curry!

The Best Music Video You'll Never See:
Michael Jackson walking through Neverland ranch, it's now a ghost-town. Tumbleweeds and Huggies Pull-ups blowing across the walkway, animal cages empty. The ferris wheel has come off one side of the axle… A lone BigWheel tricycle with sunglasses on the seat is blown slowly in circles by the wind.

Jump-cut to: MJ in a jail cell reading Harry Potter and The Order Of Hotwings, tears rolling down his face. Walls covered in pictures of sad kids, drawn in crayon. Empty Capri Sun pouches litter the cell floor.

cut back to: MJ outside of Children's Hospital, standing near a Toys R Us truck, eyes heavenward, tears streaming down his face. Police officers stand btwn him and the entrance...

cut back to: MJ in the jail cell, holding a Gap Kids bag. He reaches in and pulls out a 45 of "ABC - 123," a sequined glove, and a subpoena. Tears fall onto the subpoena, as the ink runs into a single stream, dripping slowly onto MJ's hands, darkening them to the color he was as a child. Multiple images of The Jackson 5, Merry-Go-Rounds, sitting on the witness stand, sick kids in a hospital all flash onto the screen. Michael stands outside a Chuck E. Cheese, head bowed, surrounded by police, church groups, and sad clowns.

The song playing: This Used To Be My Playground

Somebody's been snooping in Casa de Shoogs!

That's all I have time for now. Go get in touch with yourself.