It's so hard to get anything done in this heat. I know a quick shower would help immensely but who has the time to take off their clothes anymore.
Not in this economy.
My Just For Spite Festival in Montreal is only two weeks away so I have to stop drinking for a couple minutes and see who we can add to the bill. Cross-over performers will probably have to perform in disguises and under assumed names so to not incur the impotent rage of the Just For Laughs people who walk on them like cheap shoes.
That just makes it funnier.
The shows will be at Cafe Chaos on Friday/Saturday July 24th and 25th. I'll be headlining at 8pm both nights ( Tickets at http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/60672 ). I'll be hosting the 10:30 show on Friday and Howard Dover will be doing his "Extravaganja" show at 10:30 on Saturday.
If you'd like to sneak over anonymously from JFL, be shuttled through the back door and perform with a burlap sack on your head so as to not get banned or blacklisted, shoot me an email.
Or maybe you just want to come because you don't give a fuck.
Either way, you're welcome at my joint even if it's just to share a beer and cry at the realization that Just For Laughs hasn't been relevant since 1998.
I put up our logo on Myspace and it was taken down within minutes for some vague violation. I can't see how it would violate any terms of service. It's simply a parody of the JFL mascot only in the form of a big pile of shit.
Somebody must be watching like a beady-eyed rat.
I've been trying to come up with my own logo for t-shirts and the like and thought I had a great idea for "Doug & Crossbones" until I remembered that Dane Cook used that for "Harmful if Swallowed." I hate when he steals my ideas that I hadn't yet come up with.
If you're an artist and you have an idea for a logo, I'm in the market. I could set it up like a crazy fan contest but I hate cheesedick duplicity even when I know it would work well. Instead, send me something and if I like it best and use it, I'll give you money. How's that for a contest. Email me email@example.com
The 4th of July was a fantastic three-day slur and full of monstrously amazing people. The house is finished and the clean-up wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined, save for this goddamned heat.
It was a construction site for nearly 10 months here but it was worth. Maybe we went too far in painting the yard but who gives a fuck. It'll probably wither like Grey Gardens from here on in. But it held up for the party and that's all that counts.
Bingo came in first in the Art Coaster race, which wasn't really a race and where she was placed in front due to the monstrosity of a cart she'd built with Betty Lindstrom. But if you ask her, she'll light up in smiles and tell you she came in first. I love that girl.
I ate enough red meat since Thursday that I think if I held my asshole close enough to the crab grass that it would try to graze. Thanks to bad knees, I won't even try.
People have been asking for my take on Michael Jackson's demise but I don't have one.
I never had a Michael Jackson joke that I remember - although I don't remember much.
The best MJ joke ever written - this isn't arguable - came from Mat Becker.
"Did you see Michael Jackson dangling that baby out of his hotel window? I thought that was really fucked up. Turns out he was just taunting Eric Clapton."
No other joke needs to be written.
Huge thanks and apologies to Austin for the fuck-up with the listed show time. You heroic bastards stood in an ugly heat with the roar and stench of a 50,000-strong biker rally for 2-3 hours waiting for doors to open because someone fucked up on their website.
And you were still a fucking great crowd.
Martha Kelly was absolutely brilliant on stage and you took notice. Thanks to JT Haberstaat for a great job as well, even if it's your stupid fault for fucking up the time. (It's always best to blame the opener for everything.)
I'll try to play there next time when it's a bit cooler and on time and during a convention of metro bus-pass holders or whatever form of transportation doesn't break your ears and conjure images of calloused fist-rape.