I got up on the Comedy Store’s main stage last night. The show went well—I was fifth up—a good slot. I had a solid set with decent moments of kill and met some new faces, including one comic who had just been on the Tonight Show, and another who won a recent season of Last Comic Standing.
Halfway through the show, a new comedian from Jersey came out on stage wearing a cheap suit, did some ranty cheesehole schlock about wanting to “fistfuck breast cancer in its dime-sized asshole,” ran off stage, and came back wearing a strap-on 10″ dildo over his suit pants…he ran around, took a bow, removed the strap-on, stuck the dick in his mouth, and slobbered into the mic, “I love this thing!” Apparently.
The backstage green room was porno slick—hi-gloss black and shiny with vanity lights, and in the middle, a 2′-high black piano-shaped table with a mirror top. A comedian told me that that 80s comics used to snort mountains of coke from it. I looked up close and yeah, there were deep razor line nicks all over it—click on the picture for a close-up. I considered rolling up a bill and sniffing around for Pryor’s leftover punchlines.
After my set I stepped out back onto Sunset. It was starry out but freezing and smelled like rain. Skinny hookers in 6″ heels and leather pants wobbled past on the sidewalk while frat boys in an Escalade drove by slowly to whistle. I walked around to the club’s outdoor bar. There was a famous comic hanging out. I ordered a gin and tonic and the bartender whispered, “That comic takes home a different woman every night…he likes the sluts.”
I sipped my booze and watched the bartender make a sloppy Long Island for a guy who was high as a kite. The guy took a sip, spit out some drink, shrugged, then walked away, apparently satisified…maybe he was hallucinating that he was in Napa….
This morning I have a splitting headache…not sure what gin the bartender used, but it must’ve been cheap shit—head’s thumping behind my ear…I keep reaching back there and expecting to feel Lars Ulrich’s foot. I am some kind of monster.
Today I leave work early to go stand in line in the rain at the Laugh Factory on Sunset…livin the dream.
October 21st, 2010 at 11:31 am
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3-eavMSBnk&feature=related
The related YOU TUBE Video was taken when I was in High School. It is Jim Mora saying the word “Playoffs” when he was a head coach in the NFL fucking years before the new guns were born and the old folks saw them as bad as the fucking Saints back in the day.
It’s funny about the saying: “Everything old is new again”.
Why did I say this? Simple: Look young guns. A year or so ago Coors Light came out with an on purpose cheesy commercial where Jim Mora was dubbed into commercial for Coors Light. Since then the catch phrase “Play-offs?; Playoffs?; …Playoffs?” with that annoying voice has become the thing. 20, 30, 40, and 50 somethings all together in the work place would pass each other in the hall and say “Playoffs?; Playoffs?;…Playoffs?” and then high 5 each other on their way to lunch. Heck: even sleeper NFL players after gaining an unexpected win over the favored team would start saying out loud in front of the cameras…”Playoffs?; Playoffs?; Playoffs?” and everyone would get a great laugh – old and young. That phrase is over twenty years old and it spans a generation and a half at least.
Bottoming lining it: We are all little McFly’s stealing shit from the past and pimping it into the future – because that’s what comics do. And Old comics – if they are smart – stay on the cutting edge of what the young guns are doing so they can make fun of them.
So what I’m saying to the old farts and young fucktard turks of today – without the LA Head Beating that Rodney King took to have to muster this saying up – “Can’t we just all get along?”
October 20th, 2010 at 8:58 pm
Old farts below:
Eat my ass! Observation? Observation? Observation? You fucktards don’t get it. Us Young Turks: We observe then we communicate. If you are too old or too fucking poor to get a droid or any smart phone it’s because you have become your god damned parents and grand parents. YES! Tiny brains – you have graduated to old ass fuck mode. Remember the same complaints about how lazy and stupid your generation was when your paps or grandpaps opened their pie-holes when speaking about you. don’t you get that the cycle has come full cirlce grass-hopper. You are now your parents – old fucks.
And 80′s Donor: I wouldn’t go ragging on my gen while you are totally coked and reminiscing about the old days. I mean come on man: you want to fuck a piano that you did lines on over 25 years ago – and you say youth is wasted on the young? YOU R FUCKED in the HEAD. 80′s Donor, Maybe you and Richard Lewis, and Jerry Seinfeld should all get in a room and poor gasoline over yourselves and light a match, because your torch is gone and that’s the only fuckin’ way you’re going to get it back.
80′s Donor and An-Android congratulations; you are now your parents – the same fucktards you both bagged on when you were kids or had the fortune to make fun of if you made it on stage. Dumb Asses, no thine selves.
October 20th, 2010 at 4:55 am
You
are correct 80′s Donor. The “Newbies” in the Biz (the 20 and younger 30 something up and comers) as you describe them seem to love phones and text communication more than they seem to be connected to what is around them. I mean can they love observing what’s around them like any good comic or writer for that matter if they are always tapping away on the phone like little asian seamstresses. I swear the fattest dudes with chubby fucking fingers now have the adroitness to work in an Asian Sweatshop as a fucking seamstress because their fingers have become so nimble by typing on little blackberry keyboards.
Do these young turks have enough capabilities to look up from their i-phones, smart phones, or whatever have you and to take a look around their world to observe for one GD second what is around them for comedy content. How can you observe the madness of life around you if you’re jerking it to your apps, widgets, OMG’s and BFF’s on a 3.9″ inch screen. That ain’t life man. Well, maybe it is – and that’s kinda sad because if everyone is drinking the same cool aid of constant communication via a smart phone – what is their to make fun of. Their are only so many fat finger Asian adroitness jokes a guy can make. If smart phones are the new insanity, I want George W. Bush back. At least we could make fun of that cock sucker.
I mean look at Obama: he talks as adroitly, and robotically as a Blackberry – no pun intended. Fred Armesan can only make fun of our current President’s speaking cadence of authoritative but unemotional detachment for so long, because roboticness, and anyone whose speaking cadence is robotic gets pretty fucking boring to make fun of and laugh at after awhile.
When 2012 rolls around give me Tina Fey and Palin again, because one can always laugh at insane ignorance along with a cadence that reeks of stupidity and someone all too human and fascinatingly nonsensical. At least there will always be comedy where stupidity runs rampant.
October 19th, 2010 at 5:22 pm
Hey,
I gave back in the day to that same great fucking club that played last night, and i added my little razor mark to that same god damned piano. I’m glad someone new and worthy come out of the comedy vagina hole of the comedy store knows the history of that fucking piano.
Now, with all the different types of rubber-mixed-latex that they use for molds of porn star pussy that you can now jerk off into, I kinda imagine if someone would get the brains to drummel a whole into the side of that same piano, and then fill the whole in with one of those real-feel pussy molds. Then you newbies fuck the piano doggy style while doing a line of blow before taking the stage. Ah, technology.
Man: those were the fucking days. The Reagan 80′s, Sunset Blvd, Motley Crew fucking up the Whiskey and me and several other of my comic cohorts like Pryor, Dangerfield, and Lewis blew some coke and smack off that same fuckin’ piano. I left my nose bleed and razor marks on that fucking piano and my sweat out on that fucking stage.
Caught you the other night – shnoz man. Got some polish, with that billy idol hair and you were Pretty Damn Good.
If You want to get higher in the Biz Bourbon Boy or whatever the fuck your name is, you gotta keep working it, refining it, and see what works on those fucking crowds.
When you get lazy on refining your act, sticking to the same old dick jokes that have been told over and over again, and you take in more ounces of coke than you do of protein on a daily level – then it’s time to get the fuck out. The problem is: you newbies are more addicted to your droid/smart phones or whatever the fuck they are called that you can’t take your eyes off the fucking Facebook, Twitter, keyboard or whatever else your eyes or fingers or doing – for one FUCKINg minute – to take a fucking line of blow or to scope out a groupie chick with low self-esteem to fuck on that piano.
Youth is wasted on the young. I hope mr. witchdick or whatever the fuck your name is knows how to fuck rather than text, or facefuck – then maybe ya gotta chance to sleep your way to the top to make it. Just kidding shnoz billy idol boy, you’re pretty good. Plus, some Vagina would love to take a spin on that schnoz of yours. Ha-ha: I’m all coked out and still made a funny – you cock sucker.