Prob'ly my last Blogger blog

So I'm moving my coordinates in the Blogosphere over to this address:

HTTP://CRITICALDAD.WORDPRESS.COM

It's been 8 years of hammering through some death-inviting blogs here at Blogger.

But I need/want to monetize this writing like it was 2006, and Blogger's got one of those built-in technical blocks that keeps me from doing just that. They aren't targeting me, it's just a coding issue that keeps me from being allowed and able to get ads up on my blog here. Thus, I'm moving over to Critical Dad.

Before I go, here's why I love and hate writing.

I love creating. I embrace my creativity as a part of my Being, because it makes me feel Alive, and because for a long time, it was a negative. That is, growing up, my creativity was best used as a way of getting my entire body removed from Jr. High classes. I was a smart ass, a loudmouth, a knucklehead trying to get a laugh or tell a teacher I thought they were shit-full without using those words. So eventually, getting to a place where I could express my feelings and opinions - like anybody gives a crap - freed me to get it off my chest and out of my pool of white noise. It opened my mind up. I felt better.

I hate that I don't do it enough. I should, I have so much that bothers the hell out of me, but I let it go almost so quickly that it barely registers. And thus I should look less at the breaking moments and more at my own Principles, and how those are broken by people. I'm no Stoic, mind you, nor a self-righteous windbag. But I don't take my old furniture out to the dumpster nor toss my kid's unused toys in the recycling. I don't carry a small dog into grocery stores because I need attention. I can be a jerk, but not without reason. And the fact that I don't get jerky often enough here is to my detriment. Instead, I've been yelling at shitty neighbors more often than I should, and blasting an airhorn when walking past people texting behind the wheel.

So, it's been a riot, and I've been in dumb blogfights with people, so please read at your leisure. I'll compile a Top 10 Faves in a bit. For now, I have to go work out some issues.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Battle Of The Blands

Revelation last week. While watching a comedian I really like and respect perform a very similar bit to one of mine, my lap felt cold. My joke-boner fell. Frankly, it's true that I have re-hashed too much work within my comedy. It's been too long since I introduced anything truly new, a chunk or a bit or a longer-form run of humor. It's important that I write what I think is funny, but lately all that comes out are lamentations.

About the state of this country (catatonic stupor/corn syrup insulin-crashing).

About religion and those who adhere to it as a lifestyle instead of a guiding light. Loving The Lord is a different expression than Paranoia.

About childless couples throwing shit-looks when my gorgeous and well-behaved son and wife and I sit down near them in a restaurant. Leave, fucko. Eat at the bar.

I'm a happy man and a fed-up American and a bored comedian. That has to amount to something. I'm not boo-hooing the passion I have found in Stand-up Comedy. My reverence for Sahl, Martin, Pryor, Cosby, Hicks, et al fuels much of my desire to accept gigs. My ego thinks I have something to say. So I'm probably just putting too much pressure on myself to make something count for eeeeeverybody sitting in the room at a comedy show. Instead, I need to go back to the drawing board, and draw the shapes of letters that become words and from there, jokes.

I need to do what I think is Funny, that's the trick. Like any work, it's important to do what YOU think is Good Work. Otherwise you're wasting your time and the time of the person paying you to check Facebook just reeeeeal quick. Comedy is a privilege and a passion to be part of. I'm lucky. Sadly, I've also been lazy. Time to turn that around and put it on its knees and tell it to say my name.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Day Dream Job

I always have loved stand-up comedy. Some of my earliest memories are seeing Steve Martin, arrow through his head, goofin' it up on stage and watching a room full of adults cracking up about it. The people on TV were loving him. He looked like he was loving it right back. That looked like a lot of fun. It wired me, perhaps, to "get" comedy. It tuned my Sense of Humor. Like how blindness accentuates the other senses, or a how dullness of taste excites one's love of Daughtry's music or buffet dining when not in Vegas, my Sense of Humor has always been prominent.

What the hell does it matter? Why pursue COMEDY as a hobby, career, second job, or passion? To make people laugh? I don't like people all that much, in a general sense. As dumb as I project most of them to be, almost every audience I've performed in front of has been nearly 100% people. And I'm supposed to make THEM laugh? They expect me to give them some sort of levity from an existence that is routine, by rote, a rut from their mid-twenties until they go cold and limp in a chair 4 years and one Easter dinner after retiring from Accounts Receivable. And honestly, who deserves it more than them?

I pursue comedy for the same reason some people pursue celebrity cupcake-making, or giving it their all as a Real Housewife on TV.... they have bills to pay and demand attention.

I kid.

I can't NOT be funny. At work, in line for coffee, on the phone with a customer service rep (even if English is one of their top two languages), with doctors... Funny happens with me. And I feel blessed to be able to do what I do, get paid for it, enjoy it, and have strangers enjoy it, also. It's not always great.
Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I hit a stage without any energy at all and have to be professionally pushing myself to be a bit louder and more animated until I finally HIT with the audience. Non-comedians know it as "every single day." But it is my passion and I can't NOT do it. I no longer question "why" our society - American, that is - has shows that embrace what seem to be waste-of-time pursuits, either. I get it.

Honestly, do we need a SINGLE show on TV, paid-for by advertising and cable bills, that solves the ages-old dilemma of whose group is the most dynamic at dancing? DANCING. If it keeps the kids off the streets and out of malls, great. And they love it. Perhaps they'll learn to appreciate other people's creative passions and shut the fuck up at a comedy club and not send useless text messages while the comedian is talking about how dumb young people are.

But the other part is that until it all clicks, The Passion pays dick. Especially if you're married and have a kid and a mortgage and other things you wanna do. While those inspire comedy, and work, and love, and provision, and Life, they also require a finely-tuned management of schedule that usually escapes most comedians. I've been a lazy joke-sack for a couple of months. And that's not something I love about comedy. It doesn't need me as much as I need it. Until I go to an open mic and hope the audience doesn't think comedy doesn't need me. Because, wow, some people are better off just judging comedy instead of doing it.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Eating Out: 2nd Hand Canlis

I've eaten at Canlis ONE TIME. It was ethereal. It is the Highest of Classes. It is expensive. It is worth it. Every moment from the valet to the final check to walking out with most of your understuff not exposed, worth every bit of the $190 I spent on appetizers.

Kidding. They don't have "appetizers," dirtload. Frigging great food. They do a few things and they do each of them perfectly +2 (including "surprise" and "butter.").

We have a "dress code" where I am consulting.
It basically can be summed up in these words:
"Don't wear jeans before Friday."

Not $180 jeans. Not $20 jeans. Not well-washed, properly-fit-to-flatter jeans. Not baggy jeans wit' yo ayass hanging 'bove da sagg. Nuh-uh. No jeans.

Cargo pants? Sure.
Luau shirt? Aloha.
Smell like a batting helmet? No problem.
Khakis that upon closer-look are denim? Okay, nobody's gonna tattle.
Utili-kilt? Evenutally I will find out.
Utility camping pants that zip-off above the knee to become shorts? YES.

This last choice was made by a guy who works as a database blah-blah and wears his beard and hair "unkempt." Skullet to a ponytail. Long beard. Usually eating loudly somewhere. Grumpy. In pants that could zzzzzoooooooeeep! into a pair of pasty leg-baring shorts in a heartbeat.

Long story short, the eye-test doesn't show him to be somebody who would saddle up at a 4-star restaurant long-known as THE 4-Star in Seattle (up there with Rover's) and settle into a well-versed meal. Yet he DID that over the weekend. Then walked around complaining to people all day about how expensive it is. And the service was bad. And how he felt uncomfortable.

You dine. You do not EAT. There is no GORGING. You ask for a wine suggestion if you're not sure. You don't point to the cheapest and say "THAT."

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him understand that not all horses should be drinking at that particular trough. High prices keep the riff-raff out. I'm sure a pair of well-pleated khakis and a shirt with long sleeves was in order. Now damnit, bring me my cheese stix.
I've been there. I knew what to expect. And I was half this guy's age. Sounds like he wasted his time and money. Next time, zip those pantlegs off and get you some food on a stick. Leave the dining to those who'd rather not see your skullet.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

A Five O'Clock Foreshadow

I headlined at Laughs Comedy Spot a few weeks ago and quickly tired of my own voice. My act is touching issues I truly believe in, specifically the ridiculousness of a "Death With Dignity" act being voter-approved (yet we want nobody to say anything about our bodies), and how being nice to people isn't really worth it if you want to feel good about people in general. But I just cannot stand to hear myself talk about that crap anymore. I am seeking a deeper connection to my material, and that is exactly why I'll probably never be a big stand-up comedian star power who they speak of by last name only. Lott's in town, dude, let's see if we can get in for free and sit in the back. Maybe he needs an opener. I cannot believe "Avatar" was made for a half-billion, and we have so much more in this country that is side-fucked beyond Amercian Standards.


My life is Good, really. And that's a tough-shelled egg for the spermatazoa of comedy to burrow into.


I guess since the other car broke down I have "that much more" to ponder. Down payments, dealers, schedules... it's different now that we have a baby but no car to put him in... and all that comes with dealing with a car. And nobody knows anything but they know it all about buying a car. So we got it narrowed down, and the narrowing is harrowing because of all those issues of gravitas of Monthly Payments and Financing and Insurance and Being a Grown-Up. And I'm trying to not bring any of it up at work because, instead of advice, I would get stories about all the problems they've had with dealerships. Except for the TimeJacker, who would weave together some horsefeather story that included Self Aggrandizing, Misogyny, Homophobia, Narcissism, and Outsmarting The System. Sheesh. No thanks. I'd rather suffer a bit in my own silence.

Maybe I'm dehydrated. I'll have some water and see what comes of it.



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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Mission: Control

Before I begin, I have to tell you that one of the most-annoying laughs of all time is the "Double-Gasp." A guy at work here does the short inhale-wheezing exhale-sans guffaw. From what I can tell, he thinks WAY too many things are funny. They aren't. He's not laughing-laughing, mind you, it's a nervous laugh to let ya know, hey... he just acted like an asshole!

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The need For and To Control is a familiar, annoying concept to me. It's that 'weeeee' of mosquito I can sense in the area but can't touch until it burrows into me and leaves an itch behind. I have seen it manifested many ways throughout my life, from Mind Control to Bladder Control. The control over the daily running of a household. The control over every second of another person's schedule. Most folks who truly desire Control shouldn't have it. They crave it like a drug to calm their anxiety over something being out of their grasp, wasting their time and GASP... stirring up an unresolved issue with their past.

We call them "Busy Bodies," "Anal Retentive," "Uptight," "MicroManagers," and "Assholes."

They call themselves, if self-actualized, "Control Freaks," with a giggle. I work with a number of these people. It's annoying. They love meetings. They love knowing all there is to know, instead of what they probably really need to know. And they have to guide, influence, allude-to, re-calibrate, re-direct, and lay the groundrules for whatever activity they are causing delays in by not allowing The Flow to take over.

This usually is a sign of Fear. Fear is a real bastard. Fear Itself, as has been said, is the only thing to be afraid of. And for good reason. It stymies people. Fear punches a hole in the gut of Comfort which can only be filled by Control, and madness begins. Look at Hoarders, for example. There are many kinds of Hoarders.

• Love Hoarders; can't be alone, can't really make relationships work, abandonment issues, sex addicts possibly, in need of attention and validation.


• Food Hoarders; afraid there may not be enough, they store and store and over-run their homes with food. Or they over-run their bodies to exert control of it.


• Item Hoarders; the TV show "Hoarders" sums it up awfully and bleakly - people are burying themselves in their own CONTROL, wherein, actually, it is a lack of Impulse Control. Again... madness has begun.

The Need to Control comes from that little voice in the back of a person's head that remains quiet, until they FEAR they are in a position to be hurt or bothered. They overplan. They micromanage. They dig their fingers into places that don't need digging. It's an issue from childhood that they need to throw a lasso around before, you know... they feel the judgment of a non-present parental figure lay across their shoulders. Somebody MUST step up and HELP these other folks...

If they don't, well, people may not have any idea what to do on the trip to the resort and could end up just spending too much of their time at the pool or playing golf or riding the bike trails and if that happens then they won't see what a fantastic trip planner they are and how they thought of everything, everything except RELAXING which is really just SITTING THERE and how could you SIT THERE and do NOTHING when there's so much to do can't you see that really REALLY... I am only TRYING TO HELP YOU DO WHAT I THINK YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO?!!?!?!!
Madness

This could be a new "NiceHole," the "ContrHole."
The emotional leash that ContrHoles throw on other people is only as short and restrictive as those who are lasso'ed allow it to be. Often times it's a matter of keeping the peace. Sometimes you're on your way to Put The Cheese In The Fridge while being told to Put The Cheese In The Fridge, and the Control Lasso falls away. Whatever the cheese, whereever the fridge, don't forget that the only real control we have is over our own actions and reactions. Any infringement on that should be met with a kind word, an empathetic smile, and handful of fart slapped onto their nose.

This would have been better if somebody had forced me to outline it first.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

You Have God To Be Kidding Me

Excuse me while my brain tries to work on a Windows box instead of the Apple shortcuts toolbox installed in my muscle memory. If this ends up with a link to a document about reporting errors in double-looping syntax, one for Incoming, one for Archiving, I ask now for your leniency.

The other day on the way to work I saw a minivan! with a bumper sticker that read:

GOD DOESN'T BELIEVE IN ATHEISTS

Wow. I have a joke in that vein, that Atheists believe God is a construct of weak minds looking for a greater meaning to Life than "Eat, Work, Fuck, JetSki, Die." Turned around, I believe God thinks the same of Atheists, railing against people who are trying to do something other than act out in a way to make people ask "How could God let that happen? At a WalMart of all places!?"

I wanted to find out more about this person, follow them to their church, and see if they were joking or if they really meant it. Because if they indeed held steadfast to a traffic-facing statement in 9.4-cents worth of ink and sticker, then they are a horrific person pretending to know the Mind of God and should be held under a spigot of trucker shit. What massive asshole on feet.

I don't claim - especially to myself - to be the most religious person you'll ever meet. I do believe that Jesus Christ's edict of "Treat others with compassion and love, for the sake of treating others well, that they may act towards you in the same manner" is the way to save the world, even the parts we would rather see sucked into a burning lake of BP crude while waving American flags stitched together from t-shirts with hunting-related witticisms 'pon them. I believe that the Core Values of the Christian Church are alive and well, and that they are based upon Love, Acceptance, and Community. Notice I didn't say "molesting children, killing infidels, berating homosexuals, and stoning women to death for having an opinion."

And I believe that were it not for people calling themselves "Christians" who are most likely just paranoid fartpacks acting in a manner they really, really, really, really REALLY HOPE will gain them favor with God... while acting as if it's okay for them to act as a conduit of God's judgment/wrath... then the label of "Christian" wouldn't have so many negative connotations.

Also, a friend of mine who is as annoyingly vocal about his Atheism as a recently-born-again Christian at Bunco night, told me he attends weekly Atheist meetings to discuss Atheism, pool money together for events, and encourage each other to not keep the faith. Sounds churchy to me.

I guess I'm paraphrasing Groucho Marx, "I wouldn't want to be part of any group that would have me as a member because I'd probably pass judgment on them for how they represent our group and then I would think they are dipshits and I would stop going to meetings, but hey, at least I wouldn't feel guilty for not being around such a bunch of assholes."

Then again, who would want THAT asshole around?
Jesus.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Customer Disservice Chronicles, No. 8

The Following Letter has been sent to Costco Wholesale Headquarters. News updates as warranted.

July 21, 2009

RE: Customer Service at
Costco Wholesale
13463 Washington Boulevard
Marina del Rey CA 90292


I visited the above-noted Costco store twice in the past week. In our first visit, my wife and I re-upped our membership dues, even though we shop less-frequently at Costco. But throughout the year, yes, the savings do come back to us, so it’s worth it! We’ve always had good experiences with Costco. Which is why today’s interaction with some employees threw me off a bit.

I arrived prior to 10a.m., which I thought was late for Costco to open, but I’m rarely shopping there at that hour so I don’t know the times well. As the doors lifted we were told this was the time only for “Executive Members.” There were perhaps 100 people there. I can’t imagine a large number of shoppers stayed away due to not being “Executive Members,” but instead were at work to earn money to spend at places like Costco. I didn’t check the hours on-line because I wasn’t near a computer, but also because 10a.m. seems like a reasonable hour to shop.

I was there to drop off a prescription for contacts. That’s all. I wasn’t allowed in either side, not the entrance nor the Member Services area near the exit. The only explanations were “Executive Members only!” and when I asked if I could drop the Rx off and pick it up later, the woman shook her head and said “Nope, sorry.” My time was shot, basically. I wasn’t going to wait an hour just to hand somebody a piece of paper. Was the Optical Department open? I will never know. I got a “Nope, sorry” and she turned to talk to somebody else. Should I come back another time? When is good for you? Are you looking for people who appreciate their jobs?

Perhaps I can have an explanation of why a Gold Star member has to wait until 11a.m? I’m hoping that the Executive Members are treated to special events inside, prior to 11a.m. Free coffee and a scone bar, everybody loves free food. Maybe a private concert by adult-contemporary legend Kenny Loggins, or perhaps a relaxing massage as they stroll the aisles in beautiful, Executive Membership Fee Paid-for Silence. No kids. No screaming. Nobody walking away from their cart which they’ve left blocking the middle of a main aisle while pondering the 3lb. bag of almonds (really a good deal, I have to admit) or make small-talk over a sample of a taquito (they have no intention of buying the taquitos).

Is this the utopian shopping experience I am missing?

I don’t really care. I just wanted to hand somebody my contact prescription and get it later, way out of my normal travel route. And what I left with was a “Nope, sorry.” Next time I want to be treated like my presence is pointless, I’ll do it someplace without a membership fee.

So I’m speaking for at least some of the Gold Star riff-raff when I say that I don’t mind paying my fee for the Savings I get from Costco, but perhaps some of the fee should be diverted to a class for “How to talk to Customers without coming off like you can’t be replAced”-types. Nobody’s perfect. But the effort counts.

Sincerely,

Geoff Lott

Nopen Mics

For the most part, open mics in the Los Angeles comedy scene are either very early, or rather shitty. I'm spoiled, I guess, coming from Seattle where there was usually some sort of audience consisting of other-than-comics. And I'm still amazed that there were nights at the Underground where 30 comics made the open mic bill and STILL a few were getting bumped.

GAAAAAAA, it's fucking frustrating to be in the midst of it, too. Not just Ego on the keys here. There are good rooms that start too early for me to get to them. There are bad rooms that are open but way the F out in the middle of Asserton. And seriously, here ya go.

FUCK YOU:

• Los Angeles Transit Shitheads who can't synchronize traffic lights, as I leave a green light and approach a red light within 100 yards
• Dipshits in fedoras, you are neither that good of a DJ nor a lesbian DJ
• Valet Parking turdloads who park other people's cars in the open street spots
• Westwood. The whole area. Eat a hot steam loaf.

There's so much more, but I'm too mad to even type well. My fingers are pounding the keyboard.

I am no longer FOR Assisted Suicide. I am now putting all my efforts behind Suggested Suicide. That list is growing longer by the moment.

So now, I'm about to do enough push-ups to drive the house an inch into the ground, and start some old-fashioned prison workouts.

I'm like Heavyset Black Lady on Maury-angry.

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