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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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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It's Part Of The Gig

I just heard a great line from Matt Furey, who may have heard it elsewhere, but...
"Nothing bad ever happens to a Writer. It's all just more Material." So very true. The more I've embraced my Purpose of putting all the hot, joke-on-joke humor I can into the world, the less stress I've had in life. It's all part of the gig, Life. Job goes weird, c0-worker drives you nuts, club-owner shorts your money, hotel's not expecting you, hooker dies in your tub (not your hooker), cat craps in the tub, buddy has no clue of their own narcissism and toxicity, it's all Soul Food.



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Rules Of Engorgement

Well SHIT SALAD I gotta drop pounds again, thank you 10 days in Las Vegas and 9 at home! It's coming off, but cripes, I need to stop fretting when I'm back-sweating and get back to what I know works.
Roasted chicken or salmon + vegetables + TurbulenceTraining - PeanutButter by the Handload = leaner Geoffrey.

I think the stress of body dismorphism or "lagging feelings of self-image" causes us more stress, and therefore more physiological damage, than the actual fluctuation of weight. I've had weeks where the scale reads +/- 7 pounds, dropping as much as 3 in one day after a long walk and workout and eating right. Human beans eat about the same volume... VOLUME as in SPACE-FILLING... every day. Good rule to remember. If I'm gonna eat, say, 10 cups of food, and wanna keep the calories low, I need to schnorf down the high-volume foods, like veggies and fruits and oatmeal and things that take a long time to break down. Throw in a little lean protein to keep the shouldermeats lookin' wide, thick in leg and loin, and BOOM, we're good.

Turns out, I need to STOP DRINKING MY CALORIES. Beers, of course, but I do love and won't sacrifice mine Guinness. BUT, I can lay off the sugared energy drinks (300cal in a can?!?!?), sweetened coffees and teas, and for the love of handles, drop my JambaJuice fixation. Their "PeanutButter Moo'd" is clocking 640cal for 24oz (it's okay, 180cal just from FAT). Then again, if I saw a PBM'd personified, walking down the street, it'd probably cause me to stop break-dancing, throw off those clown shoes, and ask "Hey is your father a jewel thief? BECAUSE I WOULD TOTALLY DO IT WITH YOU IF I WEREN'T MARRIED."

That being said, I have a lot to accomplish this year. A lot. Soon. I'll keep you posted on what I'm doing and how it's going, of course, with minor musings on the desire to see
1) Customer Service come screaming into the 21st Century
and
2) Mine enemies driven before me, crushed beneath my comedy.

In the meantime, switch to half-caf, half&half, save 10% of your money (JUST DO THIS), and for the love of Dulce de Leche, stop thinking it's about YOU all the time.

Go with your elves.

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A Bad Rap

In one week, the movie NOTORIOUS is released.

It's about Christopher "Biggie Smalls/Notorious B.I.G." Wallace, a rap artist (one of the few who can be called an "artist"), and his rise to fame, as well as his tragic death at the age of 24. He was murdered in a drive-by shooting in Los Angeles before his 25th birthday, and less than 3 years after releasing his debut album, "Ready To Die." He was killed at a stoplight, in the passenger seat. The man who pulled the trigger has not been found, at least by authorities.

There has always been violence associated with the New Age of rap music, that which spawned from the late 1980's with "Gangsta Rap," headed-up by the group N.W.A. Still one of the best groups of all time. Still one of the most influential musical movements in the history of music.

So, when this movie comes out next week, will there be violence?
This litany of violence associated with events involving rap music says YES. I think YES, there will be violence at the opening weekend, which is sad. It costs so much to go see a movie these days, but to have it ruined by people shouting "YAY YAY DAWG, GIT THAT SHIZZO" for 32 mintues before you lose your shit and open fire on these skidmarks, AAARGH, just makes for a rough weekend.

I'll report back after the movie opens. I can only hope there is none. Zero. Not one fight. Hopefully people can go see the movie and dig it and it's all cool. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.


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A GREAT PACKAGE - FITNESS WISE!

I have bad news. I rarely do that here, but this is a program I believe in for fitness and strength unlike any other. Turbulence Training!

At Noon (EST) on Thursday, January 8th, all of the free bonuses in the Ultimate Turbulence Training for Fat Loss Solution are going to be removed. There are like 10 extras here, for less than a yearly membership to a meathead local franchise gym!

• The Turbulence Training 6-Month Bodyweight Manual (no equipment needed)
  
• The TT Bodyweight 500 Workout Challenge (this will torch you)
  
• The TT for Athletes 8-Week Training Program (prevent injury, amp performance)
  
• The TT Ultimate Advanced Bodyweight Workout (wanna look like a Spartan?)
  
• The TT Bodyweight 1000 Fat Burning Challenge (only for those who can push themselves)
  

I don’t even want to think about how much you’d have to pay to get them separately. So don’t miss your chance to get them for free. I use Turbulence Training for Fat Loss and I love it. I can’t recommend the program enough. Seriously, I have gotten quickly back down, losing the 7lbs I gained after the stressful holidays.

And I promise you that you’ll love it, or Craig Ballantyne, the creator of Turbulence Training, will give you your money back. You have nothing to lose (except belly fat).

But all of the extra bonus goodie workouts will be removed from this incredible offer at Noon (EST) on Thursday, January 8th.

So don’t waste any more time. Visit this site to grab the Ultimate Turbulence Training Fat Loss Solution and all of your fast action bonuses:
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GO GO GO!

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Shopping Mauls

This morning I read where Macy's closed 11 stores after a weak retail season. CLEARANCE SALES NEXT WEEK!!! It's a foreclosure sale on INC, Alfani, and Tommy Hilfiger!

Not much foot traffic, and likely, not much via the web, either. Money's tight, if you're tight with money. Or for myriad reasons. I think I used "myriad" properly.

But also, retail sales dipped the past few years for a few reasons that I can point out here. How correct they are, in a "traditional" sense, is of no concern. I'm right, for the wrong reasons, okow? BOKAY!

1) Retail Employees: Most seem to work under the motto "If I have to fold clothes I can't afford, it's gonna suck for you, too." Not my fault, I didn't schedule you to work on your due date. OR, they go the OTHER way, and you can't make a move without being accosted, confronted, and suggested-to about an item. I can't stand either of them. Either I'm putting up with a ton of misdirected attitude of the bad sort, or somebody's climbing my back to introduce me to their, LIKE, FAAAAAAAAAAAYVRAT DENIMS! The training that goes into these folks is what's getting screwed up. I can't get that kind of treatment at home!

This fully excludes places I have visited like T.Petterson, LaRee Boutique, Posh, and Barney's. Hmm, the high-end places make me want to return. Weird. Prob'ly a quincidunce. I can't get that at home!

2) The Environment: Nothing says "let's shop!" like blaring techno, rap, or house music.

3) This is taking too long...

I don't want to drive into a crappy part of town, crowded with cars and dipsh*t, unsupervised teenagers who apparently shoot at each other now, and park, walk all over, and deal with it all.
Food courts. Teenagers being loud. Slow walkers. Gibberish languages.

Which is why I MUST. To NOT go is to deny a very American experience. I need to let that stuff go and accept that this is Part Of Shopping. All I can do is what's RIGHT.

Which is to alert Mall Security that the group of teens over there was shoplifting, and see that they are escorted out. The mall is for shoppers.


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This May Have Screwed Everything Up

Okay... so... being nice can ass-chomp you. It's doing that to me.
I just realized that next Wednesday I'm supposed to do a favor for somebody AND get a delivery on the SAME DAY. Unless I arrange it another way, which I'm hoping the Delivery Team will allow me to do.

Otherwise, somebody's gonna be standing outside LAX chain-smoking and cursing the existence of Geoffrey Lott... all while he's getting the Bidet-To-You-Sir! properly wired.

Life's sooo good.

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-$.05 is Too Steep A Price

Nickelbland, a puss-rock band outta Canada, has released a song "inspired by unrequited love btwn two young people." That, or something like it, was a quote from their front"man," Chad. The song was called "Be Somebody" or something to be played while an 8th-grader does push-ups over the picture of his homeroom crush.

Can we agree that...
1) Nickelback is marketed TO and FOR stalking people;
2) Nickelback is the soundtrack to small-town, teenage pregnancy;
3) Nickelback has enough support that they can tolerate the musings of a comedian more talented at stand-up than they are at music?

I hear 5 seconds of a -$.05 song, and I have to listen to powerdrills and a 14" chopsaw for an hour to re-up my testosterone.


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It's Done Been Rung

2009 is here.
2008 was nuts. Total shakedown year, the louts and losers and mooches got a LOT of heat in '08. I am still disgusted with the bailout situations for large banks, while a lot of people were losing their homes and H2's. Per usual, my ability to see both sides of a situation keep me from really taking a side. I think the predatory lenders at the banks were likely less-than-forthcoming about fees and upwardly-adjusting interest rates that would hike mortgage payments. I have had my own run-ins with those fart-savers, and when you work on a commission, of COURSE people will work the money in a way that says "It works out for YOU, the Buyer!" GREED, get it? Greed got most people. I love it.

The automaker bailouts, wow... it's amazing how corporations in our country can be so poorly-managed (like Mohan Gyani and John Zieglis running AT&T Wireless into the iceberg of old technology), and STILL walk away with millions of dollars in "severance pay." If most people at their jobs make a bad decision, a project goes a couple thousand over budget, or worse, the 6-foot sub sandwich has NO... CHEESE... But when you fail to LEAD a company as a CEO or President in a progressive direction, including adversiting, market position, and apple-bottomed spokesmodels who like MY comedy, and STILL get BILLIONS of dollars to correct your mistake, well sheeeeeit, why even try the first time? FORD is not taking any money, by the way. They have decided to work it out on their own. They are making more and more Hybrids, as are most companies. That won't be enough. We have a lot of unread newspapers and phone books, we MUST be able to extract some sort of energy from them.

So I'm happy to see that 2008 is gone. We started 2009 in Pismo Beach, a small-town, mid-Coast burg about 3 hours North of Culver City. It's the kind of town where, when you get a DUI, the officer takes you out for a beer afterwards. I got to perform 2 shows with Lisa Landry, a great comic from New York who moved out here with her husband and son a few months ago. We co-miserated over moves, as we, too moved, with a monkey-cat. Lots of drive time, my neck is a little tight. 2 Drunk Asspleats in the front row of show 2 nearly ruined it, though some people wanted them kicked out, right before being publicly stripped and face-crammed with a Dodge. The "manager" was a complete puss, walking into the room... after one of the guys pulled an Iraqi Confetti Moment and THREW HIS SHOE AT LISA... and the manager addressed the drunk f*ck by name and told him to "not embarrass (the manager)." His chace to be a hero, shot down so he could be "cool" in the eyes of this guy that he knows. More customers will remember THAT than how good the show was. And the bar-staff, including Gary "Comb On Over!" The Bar'sTender, just shrugged it off as if it were the comic's fault for not making a big stink about it.

I loved the shows, I'd do them again, and next time I'll make the kind of stink I usually reserve for the morning of Seis De Mayo.

So here we go. 2009. I'm not making resolutions or anything like that. Just regulating some things, and making sure I put some extra effort into some positioning. Things are to be done. Stop half-assing it and pretending it's not a problem. It is a problem. If nobody is talking to you about it, then you have a SERIOUS problem, and we only think you're sensitive about it. Get it checked out by a professional, get it fixed, and swallow your pride a bit so you can be Better. YOU DESERVE BETTER.

Go get it.

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2008 - The Year It Began To Start To Get Different Again

What a Year. 2008, wow. Everything changed this year. I've recapped a lot throughout this blog, so I'm not gonna try and get every little detail, but I'll hit some high-points and see who gets upset over things that were intended to be offensive and came across as "funny."

1. BLACK PRESIDENT! There ya go. We have a fantastic President Elect in Barack Obama. I don't really care about the color of his skin as much as the content of his cabinet. The state of this nation - greed-fisted into a shame spiral and geographically and emotionally entrenched in two foreign occupations via military - can be rejuvenated. Obama's the man to lead us. But seriously, a national income tax, on top of taxes for homes, property, goods, services, and food? Fist that. What a fistful of hate-farts.
   
2. DREAM-MAKING! Whenever somebody I meet in the comedy world states "I quit my job to do comedy," I ask them what they did for a living. They say "Oh, I was answering phones at this company..." or "I was a manager at a shoe store" or some-such. THAT is not job-quitting. That is "I didn't show up for my shift so I could stay up later and smoke/drink/try-for-more-ass." I quit a career in IT where I was making phat money, because my heart was elsewhere. I listen(ed) to the voice in my heart/gut that said "Go, I'll take care of you," and my wife totally called my bluff. Just tell folks you're out there making your dream happen; don't marginalize your run-up to it by inching around the fact you were no good on the grill. The Grill will be waiting.
   
3. Gerry Lott (1943-2008)! My dear dad, Gerry Lott, passed away on November 16th. He had battled Dementia and all that it did to him for about 5 years, that we know of. The years prior to that, however, were lived the way that culminated in the type of memories and sentiments most people would choose to have spoken of them. How? Because my dad loved Life. He embraced the struggle of being Human, in that we all shared it, and in that he found compassion for others. He encouraged, cared, befriended, hugged, loved, laughed, danced, sang, joked, taught, learned, cried, and Had Faith in every bit of it. It's not easy. But he did it right. I have missed him for years. I will love him always. And I only slotted him at #3 because of his modesty.
4. UW GOES WINLESS! The winless, 12-loss, ironically-named Tye Willingham uncoached my alma mater through 12 games without a win. Being a stoic, fridgid, unable to win a football game-like coach doesn't help a damn thing when you start throwing 19 year-old players under the bus. When they all make the same mistakes, that is a COACHING error. We get a new coaching staff, a new lease on football life, and hopefully a 6-win, low-tier bowl next year. If we do, you read it here first, I will get a "W" tattoo on my body somewhere.
   
5. WEIGHTGAIN! Son of a ... after getting down around 223 earlier this year, I'm again in the high 230s, thanks to the last 6 weeks of my life. Between my dad's services and 10 days in Las Vegas and the Holidays, I gots work to do. I now believe that most of the "diets" pushed by a lot of the men's fitness mags are there to keep weight on you, and buying their magazine. If you don't believe me, try the "PeanutButter FudgeSteak" diet and see for your fat self.
6. Mixed Martial Arts! Most of us know this as the UFC. There are organizations world-wide, however, many of them better than UFC. Most of the fighters are college-educated athletes with backgrounds in wrestling, Muay Thai kickboxing, and minor buffoonery. It's taken off to a new level this year, and with any luck, will cause numerous meat-heads to punch each other in the face while waiting in line for the bathroom at a bar.
   
7. FACEBOOK! It has surpassed MySplorch in terms of usability and intelligent networking, but not for self-promotion... yet.
   
8. GREED! Who didn't get this ass-chomp of a reality check this year? Car makers, home-owners who didn't handle their finances, banks going in the shit-chewer, politicians being voted out, Big Oil, Governor Blabonovich, EVERYBODY who went for the Bad Green got face-corned this year. I love it. It will turn around soon. But that was the shakedown, so I hope we are all paying attention.

Go get yours.

Happy New Year!
There's mass more but I have to go now.

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What Happened In Vegas Stayed In My Brain

Let’s talk Las Vegas, Comedy, and what ten days in Sin City will do to a man on a limited budget.

Recently I reached another comedy career milestone by performing for over 50 drunk trashbags from a drywalling company from Riverside, CA. Their behavior, for the normal standards of “indoors,” was nothing short of “exemplary,” as defined by Webster’s “Dictionary For Everyday Spousal Abuse.” Many of them should be sterilized by my “Animal Beer Eugenics” plan, which will go into effect secretly within the next 6 months. Frankly, a fiery crash consuming their drug addled corpses, leaving behind only their armband tattoos and some serious handlebar mustaches, may be too good of a death for them. I won’t mention the name of the company because I wouldn’t want to offend them. They may yet turn their life around. Or I may end up at a drywall job, sober, and question their ability to float a seam properly… AND QUESTION THEIR SEXUALITY.

Ten days in Las Vegas is about 7 days past my max tolerance. After 72 hours, my tolerance of humanity waned considerably, somewhere between “Earthquake” and “Idi Amin.” Performing was fantastic. Over the 20 shows, I performed about 300minutes of comedy. That’s about 5 hours. That’s bootcamp, folks. I got WAAAAAAAY better, broke that muscle down a lot, let myself get really loose on-stage, and came out a different, hopefully better, comic and person. BUT… there are 23.5 hours of the day that I was not performing. Had I a drug habit (expensive and/or illegal, that is), alcoholism (full-blown, not just the dabbling), or majorly-consuming vice of some sort, things may have been different. For example, I would have had more fun during the day. It turns out I DO have a serious gambling problem: I blew all my luck. One day I went 3-for-11 on elevators, hitting UP and getting a DOWN for the next lift. Also, Giuseppe “The Dream Crusher” Santini, roll another triple-run of 00 and I’ll come across the chips on ya, 73 years old or not. Thanks for the $50 vodka-soda, fart-saver.

It’s important to get a routine going. Not easy when I was there, because everything costs money. The only freebs were found at the employee cafeteria. Imagine a buffet, with drab walls, low-ceilings, and CNN blaring on one TV, Mexican news or Soap Operas blaring on the other, and being glared at for not having a gold nametag on. Having fun yet? But soldiered forth. Get up, take a walk, check e-mail, work out, nap, write, read, nap, shower, SHOWTIME!, hang out, SHOWTIME!, drink, in bed by 2a.m. But most of that time isn’t spent with friends, so please don’t imply that I was on a vacation. My mind went “The Shining” late Friday afternoon. A ½-Xanax and Bud Light later, all was a bit better.

In those ten days, I missed my wife very much. I realize how much we depend on each other for daily emotional support and physical energy. To know that she was at home, alone, with those guys from that Under Armour ad, just really saddened me. I hope she had fun. But I know that I changed as a person, man, and comedian. Hopefully the changes were beneficial to my marriage and career and performance. One thing is for sure, I have very little patience right now. I have patience to tolerate unchangeable circumstances, but if somebody asks me a question just for the sake of small talk, I feel like ignoring them, or asking them why they want to know. Not trying to be “better” than anybody, mind you. Just, you know, we have a black president and things are changing and nobody cares which hospital your third grandson was born in so stop holding the conversation up while you search your softly-edged memory for a name THAT IS IMMATERIAL TO THE STORY of the first time you slept with a Thai woman in front of your sleeping wife. With a dumbshit like you for a grandpa, he’s probably on his way to a career in drywalling anyway, the fag.

My deepest thanks go out to TJ Markwalter, Tom Rhodes, Carl Strong, John Bizarre, Robert Duchaine, and the entire staff at The Comedy Stop @ The Trop. Fantastic time, y'all. I wish you only the best.

If anybody knows how to get my grandma to stop talking and it doesn't involve a pillow, pills, elbow (Flying or otherwise), let me know. How does this woman know what EVERYBODY is doing wrong on the news?
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Lee or Ray, part 3

Furthering my list of factual information stating that the middle names "Lee" and "Ray" only cause problems in the life of the middly-named...
http://geofflottrules.blogspot.com/2008/06/lee-or-ray-part-2.html

I submit THIS STORY, wherein Major LEE Ray, 51, was killed in a homeless encampment near I-5 in Seattle. Terrible news.

Keep 'em coming, folks.

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That's What Friends are (meta)For

Solid carriage. Decent shape. Front tube, randomly disconnected and hanging downward.
Loses fluids frequently, causing to overheat. Not good for long trips. Runs hotter than it should. When hot, needs longer than usual to cool down.

Direction-signals need new covers. Somebody took them a while ago. There may be a blinker out, because a light comes on to say one is out, but they all work. False alarms on what's working and what's not. If you stop too quickly, the front bumper may fall off.

Massive chunk-shot to the windshield, causing a blindspot to the left. Gotta lean over to see around it. Out of windshield washer fluid. Wipers could use a replacement, but cleaning the windshield hits a major divot in the chunk-shot, causing more smearing than smoothing. The sun visor has been removed, forcefully, from the look of the shards.

Can't tell how much gas is in it, just gotta fuel up when you can, especially if the light comes on. No idea how the fuel efficiency measures up.

The interior windows are hazily bonded with a sheer coat of nicotine. All external viewing is through a slightly-distorted glaze of chain-puffed smokes. Ash-blown back seats and upholstery. Interior panel of the passenger side, which holds the handles for exit and window-dropping is off, stuffed into the trunk. Somebody else must open the door from outside to allow the passenger to leave. Unless the passenger can grip mightily enough to the one cable that opens the door. Wires bounce along, exposed to the elements.

Work needs to be done under the hood. The only person who knows how best to handle it is a man in a valley far away. But overall, it goes from point A to D to C, as long as you don't push it too hard.

A car, lent to me by a friend?
Or a friend?

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On Defining One's Self

I have a comedic spirit. I find humor in tragedy, and layers on the surface alone. I'm not saying I'm special, it's merely how I am wired. Were I wired for neurosurgerence, I'd be brain-poking with the same zeal and goopy fingers I phutz around with in my comedic pursuits. But I don't define myself as a Comedian.

I write a lot. I need to refocus my energy and focus on 2 projects more and write here less, but this is a comforting zen-like moment for me to write, as a Writer. What does that mean, anyway, to be a Writer? It's to translate what I see and think into visible words as well as possible so that reader's brains are flooded with pictures, emotions, or desires to send me money via PayPal.

The other day I was exiting a grocery store in Westwood, near UCLA. It was clean, well-lit, and not your typical LA-area grocer. On the way out, there was one double-automatic door, and three Asian guys, about mid-20's, were walking in. There was a cramped area near the front door, full of holiday florals and displays. One guy was text messaging on the phone his parents pay for, the others were making sure they were ribbing him for being a "fag" while they adjusted either their chain necklaces or their perfectly-flat-sticker-attached "LA" ball caps. In front of them, to my right, was a very disheveled, heavily-bearded, slightly odiferous man.

In one hand he held a bucket with cleaning supplies. In the other, two Ralph's bags filled with, from what I could tell, paper products and cereal. He stood there, looking out towards the doors, blank stare on his face. The youths were paying almost no attention to him, and nearly bumped into him. He grunted hard through his stare and they split around him, the one with the text session never looked up.

I paused as they passed, and glanced at the guy with the bucket. Thinking he was going to go first, I motioned with my hand towards the doors. Nothin'. Three seconds passed.

I then said "Pardon me sir" and made my way past him, about a foot of space between us. As I did, he took a step. To his left. Not forward. Directly into me. Not aggressively, just directly into me. I kept moving, and said "Excuse me, sorry," and he stopped, and flopped his carriage against his sides with a grunt. It was like he was trying to bump into me and then get angry. Odd, I thought, so I turned and said "Sorry, really," and he grunted again, blankly staring. So I said "oh, come on." Weird.

I made my way to the car, and headed out. But it's been with me all week for some reason. In the wake of my dad's passing it seems that every interaction I have actually has meaning. I have also not been sleeping too well. Everything seems heightened a bit. But hey, there's only so much I can do.

What I'm driving at is the fact that people define themselves, quite often, based on the efforts of others. Like showing off a tattoo on your calf in mid-January. Nice shorts, and what a great tribal seahorse. No, I'm not asking you about it. Or like blaring rap music to say "HEY PEOPLES! I AM BAD WITH MONEY AND DON'T GIVE A FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*K!" Awesome. Giant flaming a-hole.

At this point in my life, I define myself a few ways, and will do so differently as I age, I am sure. But one thing I will never do is define myself on the output of others. Not their music, their clothing, their cars, nor their favorite color. Go with yourself. And shut up about it.

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Dumb and Violent

I feel very bad for the situations of violence that have erupted in my hometown area of Seattle. In the past few months, Jet City was witness to:

1) The mugging and beating-death of The Tuba Man, Edward McMichael, a man who would play his tuba outside of sporting events for money. He was as regular as rain on a sunny day and self-righteous vegans staring at you for not bringing your reusable bags to Whole Foods. He was beaten by 4 or 5 teens. How sad. Those poor boys have been failed by the System. Those of them that were caught, gosh, probably have to go to jail for a good 10 years at least. Hopefully the will reap the benefits of that correctional facility. How terrible for them.

2) The shooting death of a 16 year-old at SouthCenter Mall last weekend. I have been to that mall hundreds of times. I, too, found myself on the brink of madness more than once per trip. But to shoot somebody!? Well, that takes a level of commitment that is to be commended. There were reports that the young men involved in the altercation leading to the shooting and death were "throwing gang signs" using their hands, as if to say, "My hand signal should be all you need to 'step off,' or 'back it up a piece, sir.' Look at my hands!" It's never a good idea to use your hands where a gun will suffice. Always shoot first, expect your friends to not rat you out later. How sad. Another victim of the System.

3) In Spokane, two men, 18 and 20, robbed a wheelchair-bound man of his groceries. The man in the wheelchair, aged 87 years, had just purchased the groceries. Jeez, what an idiot! Doesn't he know how dangerous it is out there!?!? It's one thing to be 87, but when you're in a wheelchair, you shouldn't expect anything from anybody. Somebody should arrest his family for not looking after him. Danger is everywhere. This is totally on him.

So as you can see, there's a lot of dumb people and bad planning leading to a lot of crime in the Northwest. I would like to applaud all the parents of kids who are commiting crimes for doing the best they could with those kids. Some kids, gosh, you just can't teach them, so the best you can do, is make sure they have clothes on their backs, and a safe place to sleep after a long night of "acting a fool" or "thugging out." Be it in the suburban havens of small-time pot dealing and pill trading, or the inner-city pressure of being respected for your hand signals, it's gotta be tough to have a job AND know what your kids are up to.

more to come...

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