The Grocery Line Publications, Seattle Comedy Edition

The comments on Blaine's recent blog seem to have spiraled out of order. There is no real control over them, it's an e-graffiti artist's "Field Of Wet Dreams." Offer it, and they will comment. Cripes, I commented twice myself. I used my name in both of them. It's about as "in ya grill" as one can get in the tablogs, until I perfect my "ThyroidPunchAnonymousPost.exe" program. So we see that a couple of Anonymous (read: cowardly) posts took the boat ride from good-natured ribbing the equivalent of elevator farting: Your intent is as pointlessly annoying as your action. To find you would be both exhilirating and anti-climactic.

Truly F'ing stupid stuff written there. A descent into the lowest Clown Posse denominator, Ted Bundy'ism minus the charm and day-planner. The anonymous posting party, using a toilet-streak vocabulary to express, with dive-bar graffiti spell-check, a generally stunted view of women. Dude... tit-pumping? You couldn't find a thesaurus among your ever-expanding coffee table-legs of True Crime novels. Do you even realize that so far I have totally kicked your ass with what I've written? And it's almost 2 in the morning, kiddo, I gots game.

So why would I write this bash of an anonymous coward? First of all, because I can. Second, it's entertaining me to do so. Third, because it should be done. Fourth, because I've had too much RockStar energy drink to stop. I have a titanium rod in my leg that is vibrating right now. Until that or the alien voice goes away, the typing must go on.

The fifth reason is that I want to defend my good friend Killorn, for whom I would lay down in traffic or the ping-pong table at Teddy's to help. I know she'd do the same for me. She and I are fully aware of the rumor mill's whispered variatons of our co-mingling. To be honest, I find it best to paraphrase Jesus: "Unless you have a vested interest, it's none of your f*cking business. This is threats Pimp, I'm serrious. I chop you up putcha inna trunk." Nah, not that bad. But if it were going on like that, then what? People who wonder about who's doing what to whom are the same screen-shouters laying bets on which computerized hydroplane is going to win at a Mariner's game. You call "RED, RED, RED!" Green wins. And? Exactly. You're proven wrong on a question that never need be asked.

Next to that, there are so many back-of-the-schoolbus rumors about "who's got a punchline for so&so's set up" that I totally see where The Commander hits the 10-penny with the term "Comedy High School." I can't stop idiots from talking about things they know nothing about, whether it's about me, Killorn, Shoogs, who's funniest, or who should be JFK'ed at Open Mic. To each their own. I cannot defend freedom of speech and censorship at the same time. It's like seeing a man in an Armani suit, with a half-staff hanging out his fly; he almost had it together, then he threw the dick into it.

To stand back and let anybody attack my friends, of any gender, would be cowardly. I've learned enough to know that when somebody wades honestly into the crowd and is hit with a flying, spent Kokanee, it's important to fire one back in the direction of launch. Perhaps you hit the crow's nest, perhaps you ricochet off a few rooftops, but you return fire. Or perhaps it's better to express that the whole thing is so far beneath the true nature of 95% of the people involved that we accept the anonymous posting person as a coward, a simpleton, and a wee-spirited human of low character and even lower ability to entertain in pretty much any form of media. I'm betting they are 0-for-3; stand-up/internet/cruising Hillary Duff chat rooms for local a-cuppers.

To be anonymous is to lack any real sense of self, and have not enough bag to bring themselves into the light. And even if they DID expose themselves, who the hell would believe it? This is how terrorism works: Who hates who? Why? But folks that's some harmless, pointless banter by a tiny bug on the zit of an ass of a dead career. This is all they got... and it's squat. I'm not resorting to posting a "Posting By Anonymous Alert Level" color code/mood-ring. Rumors are just lies the liars are jealous to be left out of. Make up your minds, then forget what you know.

Oh right, we can also track down who posts what, regardless of name, thanks to computer know-how and a little thing called an IP address. I almost forgot that part. I'm-a go make day-glow vitamin water. I have a gig tomorrow for a large software corporation. Think I'm a whore? Get it right: HIGH CLASS WHORES MAKE BANK. And I'll sleep on that tonight, knowing that Anonymous Posting is forever a nervous man with IBS in the back of an elevator: Annoyingly entertaining.
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Take Me Home

My Non-Funny Blog.

Comment Card

These are some comments I heard recently after a show. I am not making these up.
"Dude, you are really funny. Why aren't you headlining?" ~ male, 40-ish, drunk
"Bye-eee!" ~ female, 25-ish, blond
"We should go next door where that blond chick's going." ~ male, 20-ish, drunk
"So where do you perform?" ~ female, 20-ish, drunk
"Where's the gawddamn waitress, shit!" ~ male, 30-ish, Kid Rock t-shirt... drunk
"Oh yeah, I'd totally stick it in her." ~ same dude, about the 1st gal
"I love your humor, you were way better than that first guy, was he retarded?" ~ female, 25 (confirmed later on, wink wink), brunette, (he was not retarded, he was Mexican)
"Are you parked close by?" ~same woman
"Great shirt, I love it." ~ male, 30-ish, drunk, drinking a Mike's Hard Lemonade
"So you're gonna be famous some day, right?" ~ the woman from two comments ago
"The last guy was really good. Was he retarded?" ~ male, 20-ish, drunk (he was not retarded, he was very short)
"Lemme as... lemme as... ask you. Was that guy after you retarded?" ~ female, 40-ish, plastered (he was not born retarded, but he is now retarded)
"Oooh, leather seats! Come here!" ~ the woman from three comments ago
"Excuse me, do you have a card? I'd like to book you for a corporate gig." ~ female, 40-ish, naughty school teacher thing going on
"Step out of the car, sir. Miss, I'll need to see your I.D. Is this your letterman's jacket?" ~ Wal-Mart security officer... nevermind
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Suicide Pie Bake Sale

A week from tomorrow, Wed. September 8th, 8:30pm there's a great show to be seen at The Comedy Underground. Friend and uber-comedienne, which is a French-sliced comic, Meghan Hounshell, is heading to the San Francisco Comedy Competition in a few weeks. In order to pay for all the expenses, she needs a few bucks. I hope you can all come down and catch the show. For reasons why you should come down, check THIS out. Also, read below:
If you haven't been to a comedy show in a while, this is a good one to see. These are all local acts, many of whom will be famous some day. This is the night you'll remember, when they are famous, that you can tell your friends that you got it on with So & So, even if So & So was passed out when you did it.

I just can't write funny shit here anymore. I don't know why. I try, but it's the fact that I try that kills me. I have no topics, really, just whatever falls out of my fingers. It's droppings, okay? I can admit that. So whatever. I'm outta here.

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Take Me Home

My Non-Funny Blog.

"Yo, Scott Weiland!"
Today we introduce a new weekly feature, where Scott Weiland, heroin addict and former Stone Temple Pilots frontman, answers your questions on life, love, cooking, fashion, and addiction. Please send all questions to Yo, Scott Weiland!

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Yo, Scott Weiland,

I work next to a very short man who constantly makes noise. Topping the charts at 5'4", he is always whistling, sniffling, talking on his speakerphone, or tapping his fingers on his desk. It's like his lack of stature is being compensated for in the form of noise, taking up as much space as he can by being loud instead of neighborly productive. I've told him a couple times that his noise is too much for the office, and it's driving me up a f---ing wall! What can I do?

~ Short People Got No Reason

How the f*ck do I answer this sh*t?
Look, I've been in plenty of crowds where I've been making noise, but mostly because I was flying on Dust or some sh*t. Look, the guy is short, so he's got this notion that he's not good enough to do his job. He's overcompensating for his shortness by doing drugs, which causes him to be so twitchy. Have you ever seen someone on blow? Yeah, well it's basically watching someone do aerobics with no music. If he's really skinny, then yeah, that dude's f*cked up on something. If he's not, then he's just doing it for attention. I'd tell your boss that you saw him doing blow in the ladies' sh*tter, and get him fired or whatever. And you should try H, you need to cool your burners.
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Yo, Scott Weiland,

So far this year I've had sex with 19 guys, none of them repeats. I still don't feel like I'm fulfilled. I'm empty inside emotionally. I want something to fill me up. I don't have any money, because I'm only 17, so I usually let the guys inside me without a condom so I can have a baby and be happy to be loved totally by someone. So far I haven't had a baby, just a couple of missed periods and really bad stomachaches. How can I have a baby?

~ Mass Needing Love

I think I got this.
Dear Mass Needing Love,
You're doing the right thing to make a baby by not using condoms, that's key. Now, it's important that you're going to the doctor on a regular basis, also. You've taken a lot of loads, and averaging 2 loads per partner, you're probably at risk for some kind of itching or WHY ARE THERE BUGS ON ME WHY ARE THERE BUGS IN MY EYES WHERE IS THE MUSIC COMING FROM STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP I AM I AM I AM I SAID I WANNA GET NEXT TO YOU
Keep on f*cking sister, you may need the right load to really set your body in motion. Try some BlackTar. What city are you from? I'm on tour right now and always looking for a place to put my cock, if you know what I mean.
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Yo, Scott Weiland,
Don't you think that you'll get sued for having this column in an unofficial, totally humorous, not at all really referring to yourself kind of format?

(Mr. Weiland was unable to finish answering questions this week due to a violation of his probation, namely telling a 17 year-old girl to get pregnant by increasing her intake of loads. He then ate half his shirt and slid through the bars of his holding cell. He will return next week)
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Take Me Home

My Non-Funny Blog.