I Seek, And Therefore, I Find

From C.S. Lewis in his book "Letters To Malcolm, Chiefly On Prayer:"
(Lewis was a close friend of J. R. R. Tolkien, the author of The Lord of the Rings. Both authors were leading figures in the English faculty at Oxford University and in the informal Oxford literary group known as the "Inklings". )

"It seems to me that we often, almost sulkily, reject the good that God offers us because, at that moment, we expected some other good... On Every level of our life - in our religious experience, in our gastronomic, erotic, aesthetic, and social experience - we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting THAT up as the norm... But these other occasions, I now suspect, are often full of their own new blessing, if only we weould lay ourselves open to it. God shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it becaus we're still looking for the old one. And of course we don't get that. You can't, at the twentieth reading, get again the experience of reading Lycides for the first time. But what you do get can be in its own way as good."

In the past 6 months, I have thrown every comfort of my life to the wind.
Last August, my wife Alicia and I left our jobs and rented out our home in the Kirkland, WA township, busting South to California. Every time I asked of God, "What will I do?", I FELT an answer in my gut, not my head...

"Go. I will take care of the rest."

I read religious, philosophical, economic, and historical accounts all the time. The progress of the Mind in all societal progressions enthralls me. I f*cking DIG IT, the evolution of society, pushed ahead by the grind-it-out mentality and passion of a few folks who, in a quantum push, shoved us through a door into a new way of living. iPhone. Facebook. Stem-cells. Eight Varied Baby Plops. Space vacations. Can we PLEASE feed the Hungry, worldwide, however? Yes, we can.

In these days since arriving in California, Alicia has worked hard at 2 companies now (contact me if you need promotional products for your events!, and I have worked at writing and getting my life in the groove of comedy and writing and commercial acting... the first 2 being The Things which I Am To Do. It's a tough rope to grab when you question the validity of your passion, but that's for a totally different wine-fueled jag.

As ever I have been, I am grateful, humble, thankful, and understanding of Why we moved here. My wife, that amazing gift of a woman and partner, deserves The Best.

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Lent Me A Hand

It is Lent, for those that know what I'm judging you for, and I had to give something up for it. I figured I'd look at what I'm doing, vice-wise, and drop one of the top 3 things. I'm pretty lame, when it comes down to "serious partying" these days. I don't drink enough, smoke enough, eat enough, wank enough, or go roof-shooting nearly often enough to warrant any of them to be dropped.

And I figured if I had to give up something that I wouldn't have to trot out an explanation for at a party, that's the best way to go. If everyone's throwin' down like Kennedy's at a 90th birthday party, or carb-loading on their way to an emotional crossing of the English Channel... and I'm sitting there with tepid water and a cracker, well COME ON, I'm gonna be the 8-baby-bearing Ut'rus Jackson at the party. Ev'a'body gonna wanna know. If nobody's doing the thing I gave up for Lent, then it's my secret and I won't have to say a thing about why I'm not joining in at the Mitzvah.

Then a circle jerk broke out... Damn it.
Next year, I'm giving up Attrition.

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Experts Wanted... Recruiters Needed!

I keep getting job search results wherein companies are looking for "A-Players," "First Teamers," "Expert Minds," and "People Who Rock and Are Irreplaceable."

Because the Smartest, Most-Expert, First-Team, 2 MBA-having people are, of course, looking for jobs right now. They were all released by their companies after Jan1'09. They will take a pay-cut. They can't wait to go through 3 interviews with snooty recruiters who are likely "making busy" while their company isn't hiring anyway, yet HR has to look like they have a LOT going on. That would never happen! Even though I had 4 recruiters tell me that frequently happens in between margaritas.

Hey, look, I've applied for a LOT of jobs in Los Angeles. From Branch Manager of a Financial Planning firm (Underqualified) to General Mister Stocker Help at a grocery store (Overqualified), I haven't seen what's-what for me here. I know what I really SHOULD be doing here; full-time comedy and writing and entertaining us through the recession and on-up. But in the meantime, as that keeps gaining momentum, I apply for jobs as a Business Analyst on a regular basis. And ain't shit coming back.

When I have talked with recruiters, they say one of two things:
1) Great resume! Looks really good, but this company isn't really hiring right now.
2) I'm not sure you want to drive to Ontario, CA every day for $19/hour.

So look, the A-List Business Analysts aren't really available. I quit a job to get down here to make things happen, and it's happening more quickly (this town moves pretty slowly, unless you're a Judd Apatow project or protege). I'm no B-Teamer, and I'm willing to work.

I'd ask you to contact me if you're looking to hire an intelligent, white, English-speaking, responsible, educated, teachable gentleman, but why should I? That's what led me here.

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Lawbreaking ASSessor Gets DUI Investigationated!

HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Noble, county assessor, under investigation after car wreck

By SCOTT GUTIERREZ
P-I REPORTER

King County Assessor Scott Noble is under investigation for vehicular assault after a serious accident last month on Interstate 5 that may have been caused by driving under the influence, according to a Washington State Patrol report obtained Tuesday.

========
I am very thankful that nobody got hurt in this accident, after Fartbag Noble U-Turned on I-5 and went face-to-face with a Jeep Liberty and 2 young ladies. Very happy they are okay.

Here's why Noble's a mid-Summer's night bag of catshit on feet.
Home values in King County are down to lowest levels in 4 years.
Yet he raised the "assessed value" of properties, raising property taxes for the year.
In an already heavily-taxed state.
Therefore the Free Market is not in control, Capitalism is not in control. One office is in control. "We think it should cost X Amount."
If I could get somebody to buy it for X, then Y haven't I sold it yet? Because Zhit's sits for too long and ain't nobody looking to buy a condo in Kirkland. Yet. Again, a man with some shit to bury got hisself into a bad situation. Makes me hope my skeletons are in order.

It's very likely that he is right in some bylaw, but I know what's right.
And if I can, I will directly say it to Noble's face; "You murderous drunken sot, I was the one who shat-painted the inside of your mailbox. Shalom, dickeyes."

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DECLARATION

If you want me to do the work you know I need to do, that you've been demanding me to do...

you're gonna have to put some clothes on.

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Freedom Does Not Mean "Without Consequence"

We have the Freedom of Speech here in America, and from what I can tell, people cannot talk to save their lives. Luckily, long ago in our history, we defected from England, then beat the British to overcome many of their rules and laws. Otherwise we'd all be speaking English right now.

Having the protected right documented by the Government in the first Harry Potter book means you can stand on the corner and shout your brains out about how awful the neighborhood's cops, mayor, and bus service are and not be punished. As long as you're not swearing. Or lying. Or disrupting traffic. There are rules, after all, to complete freedom.

And that's where the system goes schizophrenic. The moment something is written down to "make it official," it gets mashed into molds to fit people's sensibilities. I appreciate we have the right to speak freely in this nation, but rarely do I speak as freely as I ought to, especially against people abusing Free Speech.

A girl, early 20's, in a laundromat, on her cell phone. Ending every sentence with "an' sheeit," or "like a bitch." Dropping F-bombs like they be NaPalm on the last run through Kai San. (That was kind of a phat rhyme) Ignorant yammering, but I'm the only one really paying attention to the language because, well, it's a laundromat in Southern California... I'M THE ONLY WHITE PERSON IN THE JOINT, if I have to spell it out for you.

Eventually, when I had heard enough of the F-laced tirade about she ain't be wantin' to go to no gay-ass party at Dontell's, we made eye contact for about 2 seconds. I just sighed and shook my head and said "Classy." She made some head motion and stomped away as if I were invading her privacy. Handled with aplomb, young lady. Kudos 'n' sheeit. Daymn.

We do have a protected freedom in our Speech in this country. It's time to start taking that away from people, at least in a public-shaming way. Just because it's okay, doesn't make it Right.

America is a really wonderful idea. Too bad it's full of shit.

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Better, Closer, Funnier

Last night I tripped northward with Todd Sawyer to check out a room he's been working with, the Ventura Harbor Comedy Club. I went for a number of reasons, most of them centered around my genuine personal growth that happens every time I'm around Todd. He has been endlessly rooting for me for years now, since I first worked with him at the Underground in Seattle. Todd's a smart, paced, calculatedly hilarious comedian, and on the grander scale, he's under 6-foot and tromps daily on size-13's. The guy's kind of a freak, but he's got basketball skillz, from what I've heard. And he bought me a footlong.

The first time I saw Todd in 2003, long after he'd started throwing show-closing heat on the regular, I re-realized that there is a place for smart comedy. It first hit me when I saw Joe Vespaziani in 2000, that comedy is not ONLY a fake, manufactured energy propping-up a soul-dead thrice-divorced "Veteran," hacking their way through local references and built-in applause breaks ("How many y'all got kids? Applaud if ya got kids, I got kids, who got kids?"). Todd's help in Los Angeles, and even before, when I was drifting my way into the Seattle Comedy Competition Finals in 2007. (p.s. Los Angeles doesn't give a SHAYT 'bout it.) And his advice has only ever helped me correct my direction. Especially when I talk with my wife about "What is next."

So I get up there and got a lucky spot, in that another comic didn't show up to do this taping for a local TV station. Boom, got 10min at the front. I reacquainted with Courtney Cronin, met Marla Schultz, dug the set of Dante, and talked more with Todd over the 6 hours we spent in the car yesterday. Y'ever feel like you grew so much in a short time you just go quiet in contemplation? It hit me last night on the way home...

This is closer to the stuff I moved here to do. Progression, growth, career on FORWARD. The leap was taken, the net may not have appeared yet, but that's because I'm in the freefall. And when you're in FreeFall, the key is to not keep looking for the splashdown.

The key is to turn your fall into a stylish dive. Flips, turns, back-saults, fireworks.

And when you accept your rewards, thank the good people who helped you in public, then party it up with them in private. Watches will be purchazzed.

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Lee and Ray = Bad News

For some reason, people with names of Lee and Ray in their CV's usually end up with some crazy schidt happening in their life. I've documented it before, HERE.

I think it may be that their parents gave them the shortest name possible, foreshadowing the darkness that would someday drip from the doublewide's wood paneling. Other than Ed or Al, this is as short as you can go without getting down just to the initials, which is an entirely different nametag job.

Ian Ith's Seattle Times Column HERE:

A 70-year-old West Seattle woman was choked and stomped to death in her apartment Friday by her grandson, possibly because she had been trying to get him to move out, police said.

King County prosecutors expect to file a murder charge by Thursday against Deon Lee Fillmore, 21, said spokesman Dan Donohoe. Meanwhile, a judge has ordered Fillmore held in King County Jail on $1 million bail.

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Smart, Good People Don't Do These Things

1. Leave a voice-message that says "Hey, call me back." Or any such form. You've given a command, nothing more. No information. No preparation. Nothing helpful. Help me, help YOU. Help yourself by helping me figure out what you are calling me about. (my wife is excluded from this)
2. Call me and ask, "What are you doing on Wednesday?" Leaving it there is to say "Unless you are willing to compromise yourself and LIE, you will say you are free, and I will then ask a favor that will likely put you out a bit." Here's what I'm NOT doing on Wednesday, or any other day in that inquiry: going to or near the airport, moving boxes, driving more than 10 miles for less than $100, vomiting, cleaning up vomit, hosing rendered parts towards a drain of any size, jogging, telling your boss you're in the hospital, clearing brush, donating blood/marrow/kidney, paying for your lunch.
   
3. Shop in the wrong direction at Trader Joe's. Go in the front door. See where it's pointing? That's the natural flow to the store. Go that way. It's not willy-nilly. It's clockwise or counter-so. If you see a row with one woman pushing a cart full of bags, you came in the EXIT and should be forced back into your vehicle. And don't give me some line of crap about how you "Don't know," or you've "never been here," or you're "87 years old." Follow the flow. If you miss the canned salmon paté, LOOP THE BLOCK, fart-saver! Don't make a u-turn into oncoming traffic. You can come back to it... but if you GO back to it... I swear to Jessica Simpson's dietitian that I will point you out.
   
   
4. Write blogs complaining about the generally under-important aspects of human interaction much? GOOD. Because life is too intense to deal with that stuff. Be a grown-up, for crying out loud. It's part of the gig. You sound like a wet, dribbly fart so KNOCK IT OFF.
5. Leave your semi-full shopping cart unmanned in the middle a store. Nobody got the news from your double-parked "Hers" BMW that you were all about YOU. The fact that your inability to muster the energy to schlep your bounty 'round the end of the aromatics is your statement that "Hey, the Royal You doesn't fucking matter to me. I'm lazy, I'm weak, I give 2 hard-pushed nuggets about anybody but the Queen Bee right here." The only way to get back at you is to A) Move your cart out of sight, or B) Quickly cram a couple of high-priced items into your cart that won't be seen until you ring out. Oh look, you just bought... WHAT?... $37 of SAFFRON? WHAT THE HELL? Yes. Enjoy.
   

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Alex Rodriguez Comes Clean And Lies About It

Alex Rodriguez is one of the best baseball players of all time.
That cannot be denied. Nor can his admission of using steroids for just a few seasons, 2001-2003. He did not use before nor after. NOPE. Not once. Not even when his legs went from "substantial" to "trunkish." Nor when his shoulders bouldered forward and out, looking more like a linebacker than an attention-needy third baseman next to, arguably, the greatest shortstop of all time, Derek Jeter. Nor when he summoned the Herculean strength to escape Madonna's harpy hatch, Alex was free of anything other than whatever God's Natural Chemicals (GNC) had been dumped into his system from his own endocrines. And horse aspirin.

Frankly, I don't care if professional athletes use steroids. It's entertainment, mainly, but there are 2 aspects we must look at.
1) Does the use of performance enhancing drugs (PED's) in SOME players go against Sportsmanship as it is no longer Organically-Developled Talents vs. ODT (see previous), and allows the user an upper-hand in the Strength & Reaction department?
AND
2) What if the player uses PED's and still blows? THEN what?

Alex Rodriguez was already a great player. Then did the PED's and started putting up unnatural numbers, in the retrospect of history. But at that time, when McGwire and Sosa were bombing through the 60's in the Home Run column, 57 homers didn't seem like much. So A-Rod wasn't the only one juicing his meat. That came out wrongly.

I think it's sad that we live in a society that demands so much from the undeserving-of-fame, and yet rankle at the first sign of their human-ness. Talentless girls all over the nation get boob jobs all the time, nary a word about their enhanced performance in finding a husband, or pole work of many, many interpretations. But then again, booballoons aren't illegal, simply immoral.

That's what it comes to; Steroids are a controlled substance. While they can have many benefits in healing injuries and recovering from normal-sized testicles, in the long run you're just gonna have great acne scars and a number of rage-related arrests.

So yes, A-Rod cheated. And in doing so, his opponents suffered, either in being thrown out at first, or getting their hanging curve knocked another 30 feet into the stands. These are things A-Rod could have done 90% of the time anyway, or maybe just hit the 12th row instead of the 30th. In history, he will be seen as a cheater. He will be seen as the martyr of the era that many players were using 'roids in. Football, baseball, basketball, MMA, swimming, all of it. Today, A-Roid said his cousin gave him the stuff. How nice of Alex to bring his family into the spotlight.

So we must go back to the youth of our nation, involved in sports and tell them that if they really care about their bodies, they will not take massive amounts of drugs of any sort to enhance their performance. Instead, they will stretch, eat properly, put in extra hours of practice, work out longer, go back to the practice fields, run a little further, work on their coordination, and if there's time, do some school work. Many are called. Few are chosen. Fewer can do it that well without drugs.

But if your team has lost 25% of their games by halfway through the season, they should all be eating pituatary stew until they get to .500. MILLIONAIRES, people. They can afford the organ transplants later.

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Workin' It Out

Last night was my birthday dinner, where World's Best Wife and I went to Rush Street in the downtown of our new hometown.
Red Zinfandel, Pan Roasted salmon, lobster-infused risotto with morels, baked 4-cheese mac (shared), and red velvet cake in a to-go. I'd banked calories the past few days, too, just to stay sharp for Go Time. Lots of veggies and tuna and chicken on the run-up. So I'd have a palate ready for the full experience.

We took our time, chatted about all kind of thing, and enjoyed each bite. It was great.
So how do I come back from that?

With a little bodyweight workout circuit, copped a bit from my Turbulence Training guru, Craig Ballantyne. You can get his newest edition of Turbulence Training by hitting the CLICK HERE! link up on the right there. It's about the only workouts I can adhere to. LOVE this stuff.

So, here's how I cleaned it up today:

1. Y-Squat (arms up, shoulders back, wide-stance), 15 reps
2. Push-ups, 25
3. Lunges, 12 each side
4. Bent Rows, 40lbs, 20
5. Squats, holding 20lbs, 20
6. Incline Push-up, 20
7. Side-plank, 30sec each side
8. Split-squat, 12 each side
9. Spiderman Mountain Climbers, 12 each side
10. Upright Rows, 40lbs, 20

So I did that twice, with 1min of rest in between circuits. About 10min of work for both rounds. It's as much cardio work as it is muscle breakdown. The past couple of days I had applied the Tabata Protocol (20 seconds of work, 10 seconds of rest, 8 rounds) to a number of different excerices, and my body had healed up pretty well with good eatin'. But this circuit, pretty much the same Craig threw down, kicked my own ass from the front. If you do these, and focus on the feeling of the muscle doing the work, and let your breathing dictate your pace, forget it, you're toast. You're gonna be pumped, burning a ton of gut cheese, and sweatin' like me at a Compton stoplight.

Have a great week. Do two things that are good for you this week, and maybe get a little extra sleep. You folks back in Seattle... get some Vitamin-D.

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The Road Less Traveled May Be Full Of Holes

Last night I worked a road gig in the SoCal area, driving 144miles round trip. The money was bad, the room was great, my set was a bit sloppy, but I did 30minutes (IN A ROW), and worked out a couple of new bits I'd been meaning to lay upon the friendly confines of comedy shows. This is the equivalent of running 7 miles every morning a few weeks out from a big fight. You gotta stay sharp when your boss calls you in and wants to account for the sticky-notes you seem to be Criss Angel'ing into your hatchback. Funky roadgig. Always a good time. This is unlike most shows, wherein the gig is not only in a bar or restaurant, but the booker of the show tags along. And usually needs a ride.

The booker is in his early 50's, from the sound of it, and not robustly into that decade. Decisions, Life, and Women ain't been kind. Nor have the cigarettes that go down in 4 drags. The booker tags along for a few reasons:
1) It's his show, and he wants to make sure it goes smoothly so he doesn't lose the room, nor the income.
2) At the show, he gets to drink and eat for free.
3) There are some control issues at play that start with...
*Where to pick him up, and end with
*Never giving too much credit to a good comic for a good set (keeps 'em working hard!).

I don't fear him reading this post, because he neither has a car nor any solid grips on his current living quarters. Nearly got evicted again, was his story last night.

I wish no ill upon anybody, truly. That always works in reverse. These are just facts of the story. Facts that, perhaps, need not be shared, but facts none-the-less.

Okay, so we drive the 70 miles TO the show. I was moved from the Opening spot of 20minutes to the Middle/Feature spot of 30minutes. Great! It's been a while since I ran 30, and had a lot of newer material to hone, needing some live fire to do it with. First guy goes up, does a good job, riffing with the audience and what-not. The crowd liked him a lot.

Then I go up, and get going, and let's just skip around:
1) I do some opinionated stuff that is backed up by crazy accusations and falsified facts to bolster my case. But the crowd gets it and laughs a LOT at it. For example, The Elderly (62 and older) should be relegated to shop in grocery stores only between the hours of 9:15am and 11:30am, Monday-Thursday. If you've ever run into one of them going the wrong way in a Trader Joe's (yes, there's a shopping perimeter pattern), you know what I'm talking about. This is to protect THEM, too.

2) The tried & true works greatly, including tag lines on the bit about Women's chest tattoos, and a new format of the JagerBomb joke. I totally forgot to do the joke about giving Good People extra rights, but still filled the time. That was encouraging.

3) Hit the closer, THANK YOU I'm Geoff Lott, Be Good To Each Other, good night. DONE. Accolades in numerous forms, even from the other comics and the bar staff. Felt good, but I slipped here and there and wasn't 100% happy with it. I'd give it a solid A- to a B+.

Fast Foward to the drive home. We leave the gig at 11:45. It's an hour back into Hollywood, where I have to drop El Bookerio off before I get to go home. It's late-ish, I'm tired, and he's half-drunk on free beers. And has a steak sandwich in the car, which will make cameo appearances as we get out of Orange County.

Now, the volume level of the average drunk grows exponentionally in a Civic. This is smoker's breath + Michelob Ultra + Hot Steak Sandwich (extra grilled onions) + Self unAwareness-kind of Loud. And I was doing all the work. The whole way home I hear about a few things for my career. These came AFTER... AFTER.... AFTER... he mentioned that he didn't really watch my set because he was busy doing other things. "Other Things" likely means Free Beer Guzzling, and Outdoor Chain Smoking.

The things I need to do to help my career, from a guy who left my car with 4 plastic shopping bags full of food, drinks, or bottles.
1) I need to stay hungry for time and gigs (I took THAT one, on my birthday, on LOST night, didn't I?)
2) I need to, you know, work on, you know, uh... (drunken pause)... the aspect... (pause to bite sandwich)... of delivery (smacking licks of the smoke-odored fingers).
3) The delivery... has to... match the material. (Like what bit in my act has a bad delivery?) Well, (he) didn't watch most of (my) set, but (I) want to hit different words with varied emphasis.

So, he can't pinpoint the advice, because he didn't watch my set.
He talked time and again about how he can't book guys more than 18 hours in advance because it always allows them time to cancel on him (thus putting the blame/guilt on the comic).
He gave me driving tips, yet has no car.
He ate loudly and stunk up my car.
I dropped him off in a non-descript section of Hollywood, far from where I picked him up.
I got home at 1:35am, with better material and a ringing in my right ear, a better comic for having taken the gig and worked the time on stage with the Intent of bettering my skillz.

There are no quarterly reviews in comedy. What you do is judged NOW. Funny or Not, you know immediately. Life is much like that, if you stop and see how it can go from moment to moment. Otherwise, you end up giving life and career and driving advice from one side of your mouth, while complaining about evictions, carlessness, and free steak sandwiches out the other.

Choose Funny. Stay on the High Ground.

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Credit Counseling, a Vid-yo

Check it out! New video up at FunnyOrDie.com!

Credit Counseling; a Geoff Lott Rules product - watch more funny videos

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Nice Twits

TWITTER, the mini-blog of the Now, is a new format I hit up to "Tweet." Just random thoughts in moments.
For example:
"Big diff btwn "quitting job to follow Purpose" and "didn't show up for shift, got high and did open mics instead."

"Demanding u finish "GhostBusters 2" is a mandate of solo TV watching, so stop talking to me through the wall"

"You want fully organic, probably best to grow your own"

"50% of the people at Health Food Stores appear severely malnourished"


So if you're out there, check it out, Follow me on Twitter!

And FaceBook!

AAAAAAAND!
New Video This week! Banks, credit crunch, customer service,

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Techknowledgey

Recently there was a report on TV about how some bands have reduced their ticket prices to make sure their fans can come out to shows in this recovering economy. In it they showed footage of a recent concert of some band I probably don't like, especially if their shows are tame enough to be taped for the 5 o'clock downer report.

What I found funny was the number of cell phones in the air at this show. Little lit-up screens faced away from the stage, which means these people were either recording the show on video or audio.

So... you wait for a band you like to come to town. Spend $50 on a ticket, IF you can get your cheese in order and take on Ticketmaster's website and the legalized scalpers. Then you pay for parking at the show, couple of beers maybe, some weed, and then, when the Likely Better Than The Headliners Opening Band is done, you wait... anticipating the lights to go down like every show...

And as the bland of your current hotPod playlist hits the stage, your heart leaps into your pocket so you can PULL OUT YOUR CAMERA PHONE?

The band your co-workers think is "inaccessibly indie-sounding" is RIGHT THERE, 30 feet from your wine-soaked mug and you're living the experience vicariously through a 2-or3-inch screen. Recording it to watch it later, in all it's fuzzy, distorted goodness.

Another thing to do in this situation is to go to the show alone, stand dead center, and let it happen around you, taking it all in. You know, get your money's worth. Nobody wants to see Hinder replayed on Y'allToob. This entire scene is a Hindenberg of technology, I cannot wait to see phones get yanked by security, all so an adult with a 17 year-old's mentality could try and recapture a non-life-changing moment.

Idiots: Ruining it when the criminals are too cool to.

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Your Dirty Windows

The on-set of FaceBook, MySpace, SpaceBalls, BallBook, MyFaceOnBalls, BallFace, BallSpace, and CuteOverload.org all funnels into the same market of the 'net now known as "Social Media." We decide, choose, and connect how we wanna connect. You can't force somebody to be your friend on the 'net. There's no booze, no coke, no lingering feelings of parental neglect. No immediate pay-off to a relationship. So superficial. So 2009.

I wanna be your on-line friend, so I can stalk you from afar, and you can see how fat I got after Senior Year. Which, if I had to do over again, I would skip WAY more often. The schooling, not the fatness. Wow. My kids are skipping whether they like it or not. I'll force my kids to skip HOME Schooling and go hang at the local alternative high for crap's sake. FOR CRAP'S SAKE, MARC, YER TAKIN' THE PISS! Now, as people carry on posting pictures of their lives, we get a peek into what's important to them. And it varies up the scale of age.

Family and Married People post pics of their kids. If I want somebody to see my kids, I'll hold my kid over the balcony, thank you. But DAMN, my family and friends put out some really cute kids (NIECES PIECES RILEY!). Okay, fine. Now the "internet public is clamoring for more of the Obama's Daughters!" Bigger than Miley Cyrus!?!?! Not at WalMart! Not yet...

Single people post pictures of places they got drunk, taken while they were drunk in those places. Bathing suits on the hotties. Self-pics. Double-fisting (that oughtta get some hits). LOTS of hugs.

Anybody still in high school, emotionally anyway, posts pics they take of theyselves and they friends and they partying in a car, throwin' finger signs and being awesome. What-what? No. No.

So, now that we have a billboard unto the world to tell 'em all what we're about? We have unparalleled access and capability to say "CHECK ME OUT." And while people become their own paparazzi, I'm just not seeing much that's exciting enough to tune back in for. And THAT banality is exactly what is so intriguing!

Please, keep doing what you're doing, and posting the photographic evidence of your life. Someday, we'll look back and remember how great you could have been, until you came down with autophotoluciopia... Blindness caused by taking pictures of yourself because you don't have any actual friends to snap one for you, fart-saver.


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A New Erra

The 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama, has been sworn into office by the verbally-stumbling W-appointed Chief Justice John Roberts, and we now have the first non-white male as President. Better, but still behind a number of nations that have had FEMALE political leaders over the past few years. We'll dive into that another time.

I got flu-like chills listening to the Inaugural Speech, understanding that for the first time in my voting life, my vote may have counted. I usually give 2 hot squirts about politics, because at that high of a level, it's way the hell out of my hands as a man who thinks guns should be mandatory and drugs should be legal. At this time, however, I realize how important politics are in life, in family squabbles, and in getting ass from that chick who's "documentary hot." So now, as everyone gets their fingers wet in the welcoming folds of political chatter, we're gonna see who knows what, and who is shit-stacked on the innards.

The coffee shop pundits, bus stop campaigners, and kitchenette crazies will be chatting up Obama's first 100 days like it was 1998 and Rachel just found out Ross has been stealing her underpants, emotionally. Everyone's got something to say, and they have absolutely nothing to say.

"You know, he's closing Gitmo."
"I know. He's gonna sign the papers to close it."
"Yeah, they're gonna shut it down. It stood for a torturist stance on terrorism that showed the world a barbaric side of America."
"Yeah, we're better than that."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
(nodding)

AND? Then what? There won't be a fart's-worth of convo left because nobody sought deeper on it. Our barbarism is NOT supposed to be displayed. This is America. We keep that inside, locked away behind the facade of gleaming WELCOMES to all nationalities, but truly wanting them to shut up, register their presence, and pay their taxes.

Guantanamo is where they will train personnel of the Travel Safetey Administration.

The Travel Safety Administration (motto: "Slow Down, We're Here To Help YOU. You're WELCOME. Asshole.") How does the TSA keep hiring people who can't speak English, come from unfindable nations, yet determine which of us get on airplanes? Never have I wanted more to cause problems in the airport until I get to Security. If you have a rudimentary grasp of common courtesy being over-ridden by control issues, and like yelling at people, but are too dumb, fat, or unable to grow a 'stache to be a cop, get thee to a TSA office NEEOW. Creating rules against EVERYTHING and then scaling them back is not "pro-active" administration; it's horrible parenting, and it has to stop. The passenger-facing wing of the TSA doesn't set policies, they only misinterpret them before playing out their Swayze fantasy of rifling through pockets to make sure I'm not bringing any dignity on the plane.

So study 3 big things Obama's gotta do in the next 6 months. The Bailouts, Iraq, the sage-burning energy clearing of Cheney's office, and absorb these. Because there's nothing more invigorating than a lively conversation where you can refute the other person's claims with Truth, Peace, and a Flag-Tattooed Middle Finger.

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My Blog About My Dad

Wealth, Taxes, and Laziness

"You cannot legislate the poor into freedom by
legislating the wealthy out of freedom.
What one person receives without  working for,
another person mustwork for without receiving.
The government cannot give to anybody anything
that the government does not first take from somebody else.

When half of the people get the idea that they do not
have to work because the other half is going to take
care of them, and when the other half gets the idea
that it does no good to work because somebody else is
going to get what they work for, that my dear friend,
is about the end of any nation.

You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."
Dr. Adrian Rogers 1931-2005

Change your thinking!  Right now! 
Change it to thoughts of all the abundance you live in, and h
much more you can bring to your life.
Now.  Don't wait for anybody or anything. 
It's YOUR Turn.  Because I am NOT feeding your ass.

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Pick Sure Pages

While at a baby shower a couple years ago, among other places that burn a hole in your soul... CUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!... I noted what appeared an insane number of inane photographs being snapped. A woman with a digital camera was snapping pics every 5 seconds, from a package being picked up, to the hand-off, to the faces of the mom and her couch-neighbor being explained-to what the package was... LET HER OPEN THE GIFT, DUMMY... basically 5 pics of every gift-opening. Why not just buy a video camera? Friggin' flip-book of banality.

In December, while I was in Vegas, I strolled everywhere on the strip and saw where people took pics. Some of the pics, sure, great opportunity. The Tour d'Eiffel at Paris. A view of New York-New York from across the street, it's massive. The gold Lion on the corner of the MGM Grand.


But in front of the M&M Store? It's 4 floors of retail space dedicated to all things M&M. Like, THE CANDY. I get the opulence and extravagance of Las Vegas. I understand the M&M store is a somewhat-welcome bastion of innocence in the middle of a city that promotes excess and addiction as though they were life support... which they can be... but as a tourist destination, hmmm...

Doug: "So, uh... Gary... I don't know if I told you this. About 2 weeks ago, when I was in Las Vegas?"
Gary: "Dude, if you tell me what I think you're gonna tell me, don't tell me. I don't want this on my conscience."
Doug: "Listen. I went to the M&M Store."
Gary: "Doug, I am calling BULL'S SHIT on that far-out line of storytelling."
Doug: "Wanna make it interesting?"
Gary: "Yeah, dick eyes. $10! You can't prove it!"
Doug pulls out his digital camera

Doug: "BOO-YES, CheeseSkids! GIMME MAAAH MOE-NAAAAY!"
Gary: "Daaang! You do live the high life."

Now, please explain why this picture was on the internet, twice now...
This young man is either
1) Not of legal drinking age
2) Foreign
C) Recovering from brain reconstruction surgery
IV) Not worried about girls, they'll see THIS picture and realize what a sweetie he is and finally give up the lovin'.
FIVE) So tooted up on 'shrooms he thinks he's getting a picture with "the chick from the Greek Wedding movie."

I guess I just can't stand the posed pictures, they're so fake and ugh.

As odd as it sounds, I do wish that I had taken a picture of myself the moments after finding out my dad died. That depth of emotion, that moment my heart bottomed out, THAT was Life. That was an end-point of the spectrum of feelings by which all others would be measured. It would have captured a lot, from sadness to love.

So please, before snapping that next picture, ask yourself... why am I sitting in this van with a rainbow wig and a lightbulb in my butt's hole?


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A $tudy in Restraint

If you're like me, sorry. Tax returns are beginning to be postponed while we get our things in order. That includes a lot of receipt separation for me, especially for the entirety of the comedy work I write off. But when it comes time to file, and the money comes back... WHATCHOO GONNA DO, BROTHER, WHEN THE GOVERNMENT RELEASES YOUR MONEY BACK TO YOOOOOOU?
(first off, I think income tax is a scam... you get taxed for HAVING A JOB, taxed for what you buy, taxed for selling anything at a profit, and taxed if you save and it the money makes money... and we're bailing out banks)

So, either I'm gonna plop my money into an interest-bearing savings account, an IRA, or a stimulus plan that includes dinner with The Wife! and an upgrade of home protection, including but not limited to, a flamethrower.

What're YOU gonna do with YOUR tax return this year?

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My Blog About My Dad