ReCrap of the Week

I haven't done a word of comedy since Sunday night. I'm actually writing again, which is nice. It's been a while since I had any sort of inspiration for the funny. I revisited a couple of old premises I've been working on, such as how technology and dumbasses don't mix, or how our culture is obsessed with body image, and how rough women really have it. I call it "Jenny McCarthy-ism," and you should look at the C-cup as Half-full, don't be such a breastimist. There's a common thread of personality among true comedians, where the desire to create, perfect, deliver, and then evolve is constant. As you do this longer you may not find as many funny things, but what you DO find comes to you in your voice, your style, and you are able to "put your finger in the puddin' " with a little more style. So I'll be working out the new stuff and hope to lap the puddin' up as I have actualy paying gigs over the next couple of weekends.
If you think the puddin' thing is some kind of innuendo, you're dirty. I didn't say you were wrong, mind you.

The woman I'm dating has been out of town, enjoying a well-earned trip to the exotic locale of Twisp, WA. She said they had a great time yesterday watching "Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead" and making crystal meth in a car trunk.
I keed, I keed. She won a trip for her work efforts and is in the U.S. Virgin Islands (oh, THAT'S where they are), and has reported perfect weather, amazing blues, and enough rum punch to floor Keith Richards. I'm really happy for and proud of her, as the reward is for the top sales performers in her company, and she's only been there one year. However, other people don't really grasp the idea:
When I say where she is, everyone automatically assumes that, since I didn't go with her, there must be some major rift and that I'm a big pussy for not demanding my tickets. That's an external perception of the situation, one where the Perceptor (wasn't he a He-Man villain?) makes a snap judgment and goes apeschidt over what they appear as her slighting me and my taking it with my nuts in her purse. I have this knack for staying the F out of other people's business and not always imparting my "view on the world" into their lives. Discussion is one thing, forceable entry by a mentally deficient whiskey-prophet should ellicit at least one headbutt. I don't expect anyone to care about my opinion, no matter how well I present it and am in a forum for presenting, i.e. the Castle SuperStore men's room.
So M, who's funning and sunning, decided to take her little brother on the trip. We'd only known each other a couple weeks when she won the trip, and were it not for her gesture of thoughtfulness and her brother being a cool guy, he may never have taken such a trip in his life. It worked out best all the way around.
That's the truth, not an opinion.
Perhaps... YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!
I just made that up.

Dick Cheney's daughter is a lesbian. Some lesbians are born gay, and some just don't like Dick.

Photos of naked Iraqi soldiers appeared all over the world this past week. First of all, that's what the Iraqis get for passing out early at a Military drunken function. Second, I have no problem with this. Iraqis would do it, and worse, to American prisoners. So the military stripped 'em down and posed them with bags on their heads. There are a lot of people in this country whining that they have to pay $500 for such treatment, and the Iraqis got it for free!
And if some 8th-Century misogynist were trying to put a bullet in my brain and I had a chance to go man-to-"crap with feet" with him, he'd be getting off easy if all that happened was few games of Troublingly Naked Twister with extras from "Ishtar."
U S A! U S A!


Take Me Home

1) The Rotund Mound Of Sound, a.k.a. "Stumpy McWhistlah" just used the word "ludacrousT." He added a "t." This guy is using analogies like crazy today, and none of them are funny. He's a total dooooosh.

2) The Seattle Comedy Mafia is not up to speed on their blogging. Oh my dad, it's already May 4th, update your crap.

3) If you know a good headhunter or someone not scared to hire a guy with a great analytical mind, energy to spare, and enough sarcasm to fill and office and choke the life out of a whistling urethra of a human being, have them e-mail me at This Address, GBLott@Hotmail.com. I'm more ready for change than your grammy's jammies.

4) Example 4,731 of why this place sucks. There's a pretty fair number of East Indian contractors, consultants, and willing-to-work-all-weekenders here, and many of them are taking over the jobs from here when we go Orange. In a gesture of welcome and sportsmanship, some self-appointed "Event Planner" scheduled a BBQ with them. Let's hope the planners remember that India is big on not eating cows. "Mm, good stuff! Ever try your god with gouda?"

5) No more analogies. Bye.


Take Me Home