Get Paid For It

I did a headline set at Taster's Wok last night in Lynnwood. It sucked. But it was just a show. I made a little coin off it, and it was simply a tune-up for my shows this weekend. Check out my calendar if you want to come to either of those. And you do.

I have to lay myself on the altar of the Muse soon. I feel like I have a ton of jokes that are floating on top of the surface of the Sea of Hilarity, and some of them I just can't get a hold of. I guess I don't feel one way or the other about some of the material yet, as I seem to write from my gut. This is good because it provides me the most original comedy, something that is MINE, and nobody else can do it properly.

The bad thing is that some of the stuff I want to talk about I'm not really inclined to discuss at this point in my life. I'm seeing some of the most horrendous treatment of people lately, and there's nothing funny about it, except for when those Iraqi prisoners played possibly the worst game of Twister ever. It's war, f*ck those guys. And if you say "You wouldn't want it happening to YOUR troops." F*ck You. No, I wouldn't, but maybe we need something like that to push the next step faster. Venus and Saturn have returned after an eclipse you freaks, things are going to change for the better, but it's going to get realy dicey for a bit. And if you question my patriotism, believe me, I question YOURS. Knee-jerk Jingoism is pretty close to bigotry and facism and Jenny McCarthyism (that's going to get me on TV, you understand me?). My patriotism is a love of country much like the way you love a child or a pet, depending on your methods of birth control. I love this country and the opportunities it provides, even for the dumb and ugly, but that's no reason to think it is never astray or misled or belligerent. That happens because people are involved, which means anything is possible.

Even making money doing comedy in the bar of Chinese Restaurant.

Take Me Home

A Weekend of a Weak Week

Yo. Whaddup? Thanks fer readin'.
This past week was really odd. I'm at a point in my life where I feel ready for the next stones to be stepped on. I am not talking about "okay, new job, new place to live, yay." I am fogging up the windows of The Big Break mansion, I want to live in the kingdom of the Fortunate.

Luck is when opportunity meets preparation. The first man to say this was then shot by the guys he'd just broke at a poker table. But it's true. I believe we make our own luck. The "cosmic forces" at work put things in order, and if you're open to them you will find them at the right times of your life. If we all have that luck waiting for us, then how would I explain homeless people?
Like this: Without homes or continuous resources of hygiene.
Nah, more like this: Making choices in your life leads you to the next step. Good choices keep your mind and heart open to more good things. Bad choices cloud your judgment and your view of yourself, either through tears of sadness or tears of pepper spray, so maybe you think you're not worth anything, you're no good, you won't ever win a comedy competition, whatever it is for YOU, not me, I'm not talking about me.
I'm not.
Now I am. Yes, I'm looking to move along here. For me, not for the happiness of anybody else. At the end of the day, it's just me, and maybe a kimono-wearing animatronic Koala... cute, huh? How will I do this, make this next step?
First of all, weigh my options. What's heaviest? What will yield the greatest rewards, financial, personal, intellectual, culinary, technical, physical, granular, dairy-like, and/or follicular? What is really best for me? Incorporating the 80/20 rule, if a decision benefits me in 80% of the instances, I should go for it. On the backside, things are going to work out, because nothing is ever perfect, and the imperfections are overcome by your skill and want to grow, adapt, and be pitied and given free stuff. And then the other 20% will either be overcome or cause me a wretched stomach ache of regret, if I'm not an emotionally and spiritually steadfast person, or at least really stinkin' rich.
I think God thinks I'm going to be an asshole if I get rich, and God doesn't want me to become an asshole. All I can say is that not being rich is WAY played, big G, so throw me a little green, and I'll prove that I'm thankful by erecting a golden statue of, who, ME! But I'll at LEAST be wearing a T-Shirt that says "Jesus Is My Homeboy."
Second, in weighing my options for "what's next," I have to assess my skills. I am of the mind that I can do anything well, and a few things REALLY well, and maybe three things so deftly that even the experts call it sublime. One of these skills is illegal in Utah, even between consenting farm animals, so I'll call it TWO things I do really well. Know Thy Self. I am WAY into Self Actualization, (for the Mazlow's Hierarchy devotees), to find the maximum Me that's in here. So get the fear of success out of the way, and the next thing you know, you're sitting across a boardroom table with a schiddy comb-over looking into a TV Camera saying "You're Fired... Up For Insurance Savings With Vern Fonk!" See, I could totally work for an ad agency. Or a pharmaceutical company. Mostly I need to feed my worksoul a little bit. I know what I can do. It's diverse, as long as I'm not working with total f*cking idiots. GAWD, dumb people ruin EVERYTHING in this world. It's a sad fact that some lives are ended before they really start, and some aren't.
Oh, and I just heard this on the TV... "How do improve a Toilet Brush?" Uh, give it to your butler? YEAH, you gots a butler, bee-atch, all things just keep getting better!

I have enough thoughts to fill a Cure fan's empty soul. So now I must go.
You take care. Come see me on stage. I miss you.

Take Me Home