A Traffic, Oil, And Giant Solution To Problems

My solution to traffic, fender-benders, the insurance industry, road rage, fat-cat oil company profiteers who can't drill in the Mexican Sea Gulf, drunk driving, that dipshit with the loud rap music stereo blasty-boom, people who demand you get out of their way because they are late for a latté, your impending short-comings due to underestimating the intense influence of a red-head, lowered Acuras driven by shit-head kids with no insurance crossing 4 lanes in 1/8 of a mile after merging, and Calvin peeing on a rival car makers.

(ahem)

Oh, and Nick Hogan.

Everybody would be in pods that have giant magnets in the front and back. Front magnets and rear magnets have opposite polarities, but all fronts have the same and and all rears have the same. See, that means you get close to, but not crash into, the other cars.




Then, the entire system runs on tracks that are magnetized, like those tracks that the bullet trains run on in Japan, Germany, and every other country we've kicked the S out of in a war. Losers better their positions, and the winners walk around making movies about our triumphs, that we have to drive to at $4.37 a gallon. Assclowns. And you zip right along, ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. The track has magnets that switch polarities and zip you along quietly, with the only exhaust coming from Michael Savage.

THEN, you get in your pod, which would be like a comfortable little office or customized bathroom with a TV and WiFi connection and a place to "do business" and a boss-ass system. You punch in where you wanna go, hit the GO button, and you zip into the flow of traffic that is on the rail.

The rail system senses you coming in, and slows a car down a half-mile back, so you get right into where you fit best. NO MERGING. NO ASSFACE DISSING YOU FOR TRYING GET AHEAD OF THEM, HOW DARE YOU, SeatSniffer. And bingo, you're in the flow in a Merge/Purge lane.

Merge/Purge? That's the lane on the far right that goes about 15 M'sPH slower than the rest of traffic. You go there FIRST, then you get into traffic, and the lanes go faster depending on how far you have to go. If you're in it for the long haul, you get way to the left and zoom along at about 70-80 M'sPH. If you're heading to Trader Joe's, you get about 45 M'sPH, while finalizing your shopping list and talking to your therapist.

HANDS FREE, of course.
And I will still miss meetings because I'll leave the house 3/10ths of a second later than I ought to.

NO, this won't work, I know that.
Because we love our cars.
They give us the personality where our Personality should be.

And because people love being Tail-Gated by the... BITCH... who can't drive and talk at the same time and then acts like it's MY fault that she's gonna be late to work at the tanning salon. And it's not. It's her fault she can't keep her GPA up at a Vo-Tech.

And because the guy in the BMW M3 I see every day passing in school zones would have to develop a NEW skill to compensate for a flaccid personality. I wanna gutterball that doosh.

And because we love pulling to a red light, in the right-hand lane, and sitting behind the bootch who ain't seen that it's a RightTurnOnly lane, and there's no cross-traffic, so GO... GO AHEAD... go go go go go go GO GO GO GO GO GO GO... go. Please. Oh CheezIts Crepes, I'm going to push you into traffic. (yes, this happened today).

So anywho, that's just my suggestion. I think we're close to accepting the notions I proposed. However, until we find a way for people to be employed on the magnetic roads thing... I'll be cruising around town in a car not unlike the one seen below.

You know... for personality.

The great minds are all off-center, off-kilter, and need to be that way.

I'm changing the world. YOU change the lightbulbs.

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Working It Out #7

My wife and I, on Monday's night, work out in a group at our church. It's an offshoot of a popular subculture of fitness focused on intense, short workouts that are designed NOT for you to plod along, but to burn you out so you can get on with your frosting.

Tonight, the circuit was this:

1. Row 500M on the rowing machine
2. Jump Rope and do "Double-Unders," where you jump & get the rope around twice
3. KettleBell swings (a kettlebell is a cannonball with a C-shaped handle on top, weights of anywhere from 12 to 44lbs)
4. Thrusters (Holding a 45-lb barbell, squat down, stand up, push the bar up)
5. Box-jumps
6. Sit-ups

The time of each station depended on how fast the person rowing could get to 500m. You start at the station when they start rowing. If they get there in 3min, you do 3min of the station. If it takes them, oh, 4min30sec, you curse their existence and scream for Gatorade Cool-Icing Flavor, now with peanuts.

My scores were, in order that I went
Kettlebell swings = 62
Thrusters = 49
Box Jumps = 42
Sit-ups = 56
Row = 2:02
Jump = 3 doubles, 109 jumps total
Calories = A butt-ton

These scores are a bit elevated, mind you.
There were 2 groups, and my group had 3 kids in it.
Kids have a lot of energy. Kids have a lot of pep. Kids have a lot of gas. Kids do NOT have a lot of muscle tone or strength or attention span. When a 12 year old "late bloomer" stops because he's tired on the rower, and his younger brother is 6 feet away farting through sit-ups, and you're just cresting on a 44lb kettlebell swing (#35 of 52), you kind of lose your faith in AMerica's youth. It is replaced by the burning between your shoulderblades that starts in yer butt's crack.

I swear by "Turbulence Training," btw. It's like this kind of thing, but you can do it on a smaller scale, minus the kid-toots. See that link over and up on the right that starts with "CLICK HERE"? Click there, learn more. That thing rules.

I will help anybody get into that routine at any time. I love it. It's upped my cardio and strength like crazy.

More on that when my fingers stop Charlie-horsing.

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Drugs On The Street

I've been at my new job since February, and a full-time employee here - as opposed to a contracted employee - since May 19th. After 30 days my "insurance" plan kicked in for coverage. Coverage here is a very loosely-applied term.

The Coverage I receive is, frankly, disgustingly small. For a tax-paying, full time, relatively handsome employee at a multi-billion dollar corporation (which does NOT provide creamer, sugar, or recyclable!!! cups for their employees keggers), I have squat to work with. I have a high deductible to pay BEFORE my insurance kicks in. The deductible would be paid on things other than Preventive care, such as physicals, inocculations, and shock therapy. Perhaps it's some sort of vetting, to prove I'm financially stable enough to pay for my own medical treatments prior to the company footing one cent of the bill.

The deductible is over $1,000. It's not an insurmountable sum. But where is the Benefit? As a contracted (read "SQUEEZED") employee, I had a similarly craptastic plan, wherein my prescriptions were covered up to $75 a month. Not a big deal there. Unless ya need a specialty med, which I do. Not as in "it helps me sleep from time to time." It's a medication that keeps me from having arthritis flare-ups and horrible psoriasis. Since it's the only drug of its kind, and the most-effective, it runs its own show, price-wise.

For a month's-worth of the med, off the shelf, yer lookin' at $1,500. My alternative is heroin. Or a detoxification program that would cost nearly that much, but wouldn't work at the cellular level that the drug does. And after all I've been through with it, the only thing that may, MAY work as well is a full month-long detox, liver-wringing, and being dipped in organic coconut oil by Salma Hayek. (these statements have not been disproven by the FDA, AMA, or my wife)

Well, my co-worker's grossing me out with a wet, hacking chest cough that is lingering since the 2nd day we worked here... and yet she remains adamant that she's NOT sick. 4 lineal feet of lung oyster begs to differ, sister.

Situations like this make me scream for "Universal Healthcare!!!" But I'll get past this, and write some funnier jokes about it, and do my best to bring it down from the inside. Like a virus. A handsome virus.

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Lee or Ray, Part 2

Adding to this earlier post, now a re-post, about men with the names of Lee or Ray in their names being somehow more prone to violence. Check it ooot...
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This is going to be the first in a series of how men, and perhaps women, with the middle names of Lee or Ray are most-famous for committing crimes.
Jerry LEE Lewis, for example. Crime? Married a 13 year old. Stopped recording music.

Dixy LEE Ray!, double-name score, former Governor of the state of Washington. Was in office when Mt. St. Helens erupted. Just sayin'...

David LEE Roth. Ego savant. High kicks. Lost his mind.

Billy RAY Cyrus. Not enough?

Charles RAY Fuller. from the AP story: The 21-year-old North Texas man was arrested last week for trying to cash a $360 billion check, saying he wanted to start a record business, authorities said. Tellers at the Fort Worth bank were immediately suspicious — perhaps the 10 zeros on a personal check tipped them off, according to investigators.

AND LET'S NOW ADD... from the AP Story...
A grieving mother is angry and a suspect is now free after King County prosecutors dismissed a murder charge, saying they simply can't prove who killed a young man almost two years ago.

Lonnie Lee Johnson was freed Monday after spending more than 1 1/2 years behind bars. He was accused of stabbing to death Jessie Drungo, 23, in a Kent parking lot during a scuffle that may have had racial overtones.

This list will indeed grow. Something about those middle names of Ray or Lee just drive a person to madness. Madness, I say.

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Comedy For Reals

This past weekend I performed 4 times at Laughs Comedy Spot in Kirkland. Every show was good, if not great. Grrrooood. Twice we had some chatsters off to stage left, including one group who, when admonished, responded with "Is that us?"

Yes.

The voices you hear coming out of the mouths of your friends whose mouths are moving 2 feet from you is ALL Y'ALL.

Working with Phil Palisoul, I learned a lot this weekend. This guy gets going and never lets up the entire hour. Joke after joke after laugh after laugh. That's hard to do as a comedian, and he was FRIGGIN' AWESOME. "Chicken Potpie..." A little reminder for those who made it.

I know, beyond a five o'clock shadow of a doubt, that Making People Laugh is my Purpose. However I can, where and when I can, it's what I Do. This is how I do.

It's how I do it, when I do it, when I'm up in tha club.

So now, here we are, back to the other side of reality.
Day job. Commute. Etc. E. t.... c... I actually do really like my day job, for one I must have, but it's surely not The Goal.

A booker recently, upon my turning down a gig in Soap Lake, WA, remarked that "it's hard to take (me) seriously as a comedian," since I wouldn't schlep out to Nowhere for $200 and a motel room for 2 nights. Soap Lake, WA, I retorted, is not a serious gig. I aim higher. Gas at $4 a gallon (remember when?) 220-mile round trip, day off of work, eating on the road, I would actually be losing $38 on the show is what it came to. The gig, came to find out, was canceled. Not enough tickets sold.
It's hard to take seriously anybody willing to sell out talent for an extra little cheddar.

That being said, some great things are in the works right now, moving forward with a serious momentum shove by myself, Lovely Wife, great Friends, Faith, and Fate. I can't make it on my own, but I'll show up and kick ass when I get the shot. Everything else is small potatoes. I want the sustained, throbbing Big Time, folks.

Ready.

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Bloating Gas Pain

I have kept track of my gas consumption and prices since November of last year, to chart not only what I spent, but how much I got for it, and how many miles I was getting per gallon.

December 21 of last year, gas was $3.19/gal in the state of Washington.
$40 bought me 12.46 gallons.

Tuesday afternoon, I put in $40, and got 10.99 gallons, at $3.63/gal, an increase of $.44/gal. Gas has not improved in quality, color, taste, nor abdominal prominence. It's still gas.

Now, at this rate, gas will be consistenly over $4/gal by Labor Day. Supply vs. Demand shows us something important here.

If we have less of a demand (buying, using, filling bottles to light&heave at buses of clowns), the supply loses it's value, and the price drops.

FRIDAY is supposed to be one of those "Gas Out! Holiday!" things, where people aren't supposed to buy any gas for an entire day.

IDIOTS.

You don't break addiction by not taking drugs all day Friday, only to take a freeze on Saturday morning. On Saturday, you get up, you use something other than drugs, like exercise or hugs or prayer or naps, and stay away from drugs. Now you have 2 days off the dope. Sunday, maintain, do the same thing. Take a walk. Ride the bus. Ride that bike.

Gasoline is expensive on the West Coast because we don't have a near-by refinery to work it for us, and since we have the Alaska pipeline, you'd think we'd have that in place. But who wants a refinery next to their kid's "School For The Relatively Normal"? Not here, in Washington, one of the most heavily-taxed, under-waxed, gluten-free pancake-stacked states this side of Saudi Arabia.

Car-pool, thumb it, hoof it, jog it, wheel it. If you can, lay off the gas.

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Fat? So!

I gotta tell ya... I've been a big, fat-ish guy my entire life.

I look at the pics of myself in youth league soccer, and I look like I absorbed the kid next to me. Big head, big frame, big ol' Northern European field-workin'/bear-fightin' trunk. And for YEARS I despised it.

I've tried more than a few different diets. The two that worked best for me? South Beach and Weight Watchers, both built around keeping your blood sugar in-check with lean meats, beets, whole grains (if you can't see the grain in it, that ain't whole grain foodstuffs), low/no dairy fats (AND THIS GUY LOVES THE FRIGGIN' AGED, FERMENTED, CURDED COW JUICE CHUNKS, people).

But lately I'm on the reduction. For a number of reasons, not the least of which is vanity. Yes, I want to look and feel better about the body I walk around with, and put on stages in front of people. They deserve better. As does my wife. I want to look better for her, too. Also, for LONGEVITY. Dropping 10% of your weight can greatly reduce health issues such as diabetes, pre-diabetes, sleep apnea, cholesterol, and back sweat.

If you have just 75 minutes a day to work out, your life must be very uneventful.

But if you have, say, 45 minutes to work out every other day... THEN CHECK THIS OUT, now with a special word from "The Biggest L0ser" trainer Jillian Michaels.

I don't shill for anything that I don't either get paid for or believe in. And I believe in Turbulence Training. Big time.

(CLICK GRAPHIC FOR MORE INFO!)

I've dropped about 6lbs of my body fat. I've put on about 2lbs in muscle. And I don't spend an hour in the morning on a treadmill only to return after work for another hour of tossing iron. And when I'm done working out? PUMPED. Not sore and aching and torn down. I'm tired, but I feel like I could eat a mountain lion.

Work, quickly, intensely, and you can shape your body quickly, intensely. Or take the loooooooong, slow approach, and we'll talk again around Labor Day.

I'm staying on it. The only thing holding me back, like I said, is not applying smarter eating principles. But these are sacrifices I will make for the good of my Self, Body, and Life. That's worth it, to me.

But I still love Iced Cream and Cheese. Forever.

Coming soon... "pictures" of the Geoff. Sorry.

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Commentator Tots

Dearest Reader,

For nearly a year, if not almost a year, I have had no Comments section.

It wasn't because I didn't care what you had to say. I did. I do. I did do. I done.

So, do. Comment, that is. Feel free now to hit the comments and fire one off to me. I had 'em blocked out because of the sp@mming that was going on in my comments section. Now, I work with somebody who is human spam, filling my airwaves with stuff I don't need to know.

Wow, would love to talk about it, but there's a proximity to work and blogging that shan't be breached, unless one blogs anonymously, like a giant nerdload.

So there ya go. What have you to say?

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Who'm I Gonna Vote At?

First off, sorry for ending the title in a preposition. Old street joke... and yet Josh Sneed did it in his "Comedy Central Presents..." special.

Secondarily, I'm not endorsing, formally, any candidate until after the election. In doing so, I can maintain my record of choosing the right candidate, currently at 3-1. I took an "L" after the first Gore-Bush Blowout in 2000. More of an honor thing.

NOW, I am voting based on a few core values I have. One of which is personal responsibility. As much as I love the general platform that Ron Paul stands for, I also think he is far too isolationist for our world of cultural integration. And I've heard he's anti-coffee ice cream, so that's a big stinkin' finger in the eye of his record.

McCain came out and spoke about how the Government should have limited involvement in the banking bailout that arose over the sub-prime mortgage lending. In doing so, he called out the banks for their irresponsible lending practices, as well as the people losing homes because, oh, they didn't have their $h*t together in order to keep their $h*t together and not work off the ARM sitch.

In doing so, we don't have to drop $400,000,000 of taxpayer/education/health care/body armor money on helping folks who, golly, didn't realize that $2,200 a month is MORE than $1,400 a month!

Unless the banks go to China for money. Or Saudi Arabia. Oh... hmmm, wait a sec, this just got weird...

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Announcing My Retirement

Dear Friends,

After many years, after the passion and the heartache, the triumph and the pain, the ups and the downs, the downers and the uppers, the idiots and the awesome, I make this announcement with a lot of love and zero regret.

Today, I am retiring from professional football.

I have pursued my passion for years, but never got picked up by a team. Nor did I try out, for that matter. Sure, at 6'1" and 220-237lbs, depending on when you got me over the past 12 years, I could run a 40-yard dash in the 4.8 - 5.7sec range. I once bench pressed 225lbs 36 times over the course of 12 minutes. And my lateral quickness is equivalent to Orville Redenbacher's. The man, not the 'corn. Guy died in 1995. Choked on a JuJuBee at a movie, can you believe that shit?

From here, there are many dreams I will continue to pursue. I will eventually write a lot of entertaining, funny, award-winning radio jingles for car dealerships, or on-line dating sites. I'll probably keep doing stand-up comedy, that seems to be working out pretty well and doesn't have a weight limit, from what I can tell. I'll continue being as smart as I can without losing an audience, but really, when it comes down to it, I'd rather throw in my mouthpiece, strap the helmet on, and dive headlong into the 3rd row for a loose chipotle chicken wing.

My dream never materialized, and it's time to realize I'm just not the pulling guard, defensive tackle, or team jokester I used to be. It's been a great ride, and I've loved thinking that I would one day run out onto the field in front of 873 fans at a 4th-tier Arena Football League exhibition game in Grand Mound, WA. But Life is calling. It's time to do the right thing for my family, for my health, and stop thinking about professional football as a viable career option.

To my fans, it's really weird that you thought I was a good player. I never played a down. Get your life together, and please stop sending me your jockstraps.

To my detractors, you were right. I wasn't fast enough, nor did I have the fire in my belly to play professional football, get in street fights, push girlfriends down stairs, and then start a foundation for area youth sports with my name all over it to help ease the punishment of my 4th DUI. I did what I could with what I had. I wasn't the most-gifted athlete, but I made up for it by not working very hard.

I will always love football.
Football will not miss me. It will go on.

For now, bring on the Coffee Ice Cream and let's enjoy our lives.

Sincerely,
Geoff Lott

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Last Fool Standing

Perhaps it's the tang of sour grapes, or the wet-end of reality's towel-snap to the bared buttocks of my hopes...

But Last Comic Standing can suck it with their eyes open. And I better get a finger.

I, along with a number of other Seattle-based comics, hit San Francisco, CA on Friday morning with an invitation-audition spot for the show. After reading updates from around the nation, it is apparent that the producers of the show - all of whom are possibly brain dead - are looking for a particular type of person to put on the show:
1) Young.
2) On the 7.5+ side of Attractive.
3) A lot of time to update their MySpace pages.


From what I can tell, this is shaping up to be something akin to "Road Rules vs. Real World + Who's Line Is It Anyway?" There's an entirely tangential discussion about whether or not REALLY attractive people can be, or are, truly Funny. But then it goes back to the argument that "Funny is subjective," and you have to make YOUR point about Comic X and I tell you why they are NOT funny, and then you tell me to F off and you stomp away in your DUMB-looking boots and your butt looks big and there's a cloud following you that smells like bad eggs and gasoline because you fart-smell all the time even when you don't fart because YOU SUCK for liking dumb comics.

For a recap of the San Fran audition, and a list of who made it through to the LA/SemiFinal show, check out THIS LINK RIGHT HERE.

The odd thing is that I feel like I was fooled this time. Like I had a shot at it. Nope. And not to diminish others who DID make it to the next round, but damn, when a guy as funny as Dwight Slade cannot get any love, then you KNOW the show isn't about Comedy. It's about trying to find sexy people who can be "funny enough" to be on a show where stand-up comedy is part of the equation. Dwight Slade, btw, is inarguably FUNNY. You cannot deny that. Try it.

So NO, I won't try out again.
I'll make my fame the old-fashioned way: COATTAIL RIDING. I will get some famous comic everyone else loves to love MY comedy, and I'll open for that guy for 5 months on the road, and get rich that way. Famous, too, but rich, mostly.

Every year, people tell me they watched LCS and then say "Yeah, the guy who won? He isn't funny. I didn't laugh once when he was on stage."
Well, my goal this year was to be UNFUNNY enough to win. I failed. Sorry, I guess I'm just too funny to win.

So if you decide to spend some time this Summer watching LCS on NBC, remember, it's not a show about stand-up comedy. It's not cast with the best-available comics, so how could it be? In the meantime, I'll be writing more and better jokes, writing more scripts, and getting emotionally ready for the grind of... well... that's for another time.

Rest-assured, my comedy will be on TV within a year. Tune in to COPS around next Valentine's Day.

One last thing...
TWO people from Seattle made the LA SemiFinal show, Jeff Dye, and Andy Haynes. I really like each of these guys and wish them only the best of luck. I did 2 weeks of comedy with Andy Haynes during the competition, and was impressed nightly with how far he's come as a comic. Jeff Dye has made HUGE strides in comedy since he started, and gets better all the time. They're both funny, they're both good looking, and they are both going to do very well, I hope. If Andy gets that mean mug off his face. Guy always looks like he just lost a bet to a blind man and has to eat what's in the bag.

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I Can Hear You Now

Okay, I've decided on a sense I would give up if I had to lose one of my senses.

The decision was made for me, really.
At first, I figured that I'd go with "taste." If I wanted to drop a sense, it would be Taste. The upside is that I wouldn't be tempted in most ways that I am tempted by certain things. The downside is that, if I lost my sense of taste, I would start enjoying the music of Nickelback, The Music Industry's Answer to Illegal Downloading. Plus, I love foods. And I have a lot to try.

So I went another way. Or, like I said, the way came to me, and I said "mmmmB'okay." I know that I'll live a long, healthy life, vibrant and full of fun clothes and trips. But if I had to be robbed of a sense, of the 5 we have (Smell, Sight, Touch, Taste, Hearing), oh crap, EASY...

HEARING.

• I can read captions to funny movies and humorous passages in books.
• I can remember how many of my old favorite songs sound, but most of today's music is recycled from an era I wasn't that hip to anyway.
• I would never have to listen to somebody tell a totally F'ed-up joke. Not a "wrong" joke, a joke they aren't smart enough to remember the proper delivery to.
• I wouldn't have to listen to people complain about how their $5 coffee doesn't taste enough like coffee after they put enough milk and flavor in it to give a leprechaun insulin shock.
• Crying babies? Never again.
• Children's laughter? Creepier than you think.
• You're gonna have to come into the room to tell me the cat has diarrhea.
• Co-worker's diatribe, punctuated with mistimed giggling, about how "this place used to have creamer but now, I uh, my friend works at a place that has creamer and this place used to have creamer, and uh..." WHAT? WHERE IS THIS GOING? WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT?

SORRY, I cannot hear you. The Lord has blessed me. So what, I have to talk with my hands and tell people via written word that I'm unable to hear them? Look at all I have lost! It would be worth it.

Think of all the stuff you are inundated with on a daily basis that just turns to white-noise in your mind.
Never again.
The aliens have it right. TELEPATHY. ABDUCTION. PROBES.

Humor is a sense, much like taste.
Some people can enjoy the foie gras, the slow-braised elk tenderloin, and the cheese pairings. Some, well, they're just pissed you passed ANOTHER Arby's, man.

So yes, Hearing. If I had to lose a sense, it would be hearing. No more Nickelback. Yes, I'd choose to lose my sense of hearing,
Or Decency. I'm tired of gut aches from non-farting in public. Or maybe half-decency, half-smell. I think too few people have the perspective of what I could be doing in grocery aisles and various clothiers. So yeah, Decency would be the other sense I may give up.

I should re-think this.

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