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November 26

University of Auckland
Auckland, NZ
No other New Zealand cities/towns will be added



Merry Christmas And All That

A quick update and then I gotta take a shit.

My regular Alaska holiday trip was cut short because of shit going on in LA but we still got in enough abuse in to call it Christmas. The annual "X"-mas party, although teetering on over-production, is still my favorite place to be in life. You guys make everything worthwhile, mostly by not giving a fuck at all.

Thanks to you, the bored and angry emailing public, I finally got most of my money from that booker in the UK.


"X"-mas Party 2002

He's still short about 250 bucks. A lot of people would be satisfied with that after this long. I am not one of those people. No need for you to email him anymore. If he hasn't squared up by the time I go back to Edinburgh, I will title my show "Jon Keyes is a Rat-Fuck, Deadbeat and He Still Owes Me Money."

 I'm almost hoping that he doesn't pay me just for the fun I'd have with the press.

On the other hand, there are people in the world who will send you money for no fucking reason.

Since I've asked for money for no fucking reason, I have brought in a grand total of $51.67. Paul Dekort from Canada sent in 26 dollars yesterday and is now my new best friend.

That's right, you can now buy my friendship right now through PayPal. Just ask my best friend Paul Dekort - that is, until someone outbids his 26 dollars.

I am now in Roswell, GA - in spite of America West's best attempts to keep me from making it here - and am once again lodged at a Motel 6 next to a Waffle House on a freeway off-ramp with nothing to do but contemplate a more extensive update, probably having to do with suicide or quitting comedy.

Keep those calls and letters coming.




Driving home from Thanksgiving weekend in Austin - through the Tohona O'Odham Indian Reservation in Arizona, we passed a dog eating a dead sheep on the side of the road in Why, Arizona. If we were on mushrooms we could have watched all day. But we had to get home.

Now we're home.

Another day, another 45 dollar street-sweeping ticket, another day somebody needs to die.

But they never do.

I'm sure today that assholes thrive. The guy who has that double-long pick-up truck and takes two spots is cashing in a lottery ticket as I'm circling the block looking for a spot like it's the meaning of life. The jizz-bags of the world win and never die tragically or not often enough.

 Happy Thanksgiving, Native America

I told the girl from Capital One bank tonite that I was praying to Jesus that her CEO's children get cancer in the back of their necks and die on Christmas morning. She almost broke down in tears before she told me to have a great night and hung up. I don't like to fire on the front lines but those are the folks taking 5 dollars an hour to fall on the barbed wire. I let her know it was nothing personal.

It's been one of those lives where you just have to vent.

This life has been so odd, so day-to-day in every possible venue that I forget everything moments after I think of it. I forget the people who need the beating.

In August I did a couple of one-nighters in Ireland on the heels of the Edinburgh Festival. We desperately wanted to cancel them after the stress of the fest but it's just not right to do to someone a week out, shit gig or not.

The guy I was working for, Jon Keyes from, had me booked for two nights in the most remote fucking places on I've ever been and in the worst "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" travel scenarios I've dealt with in my comedy career.

It was among my worst comedy experiences in 12 years. All for shit money and a chance to see Ireland, I thought. Seeing a bus for 9 hours in any country is just seeing a bus. Getting treated like shit at the gig - I can get that down the street.

But one thing I never got - on the worst of gigs - is fucked out of the money.

Since the gig I've emailed this cocksucker at and had other people call and email this low-rent cocksucker to get my shit money. Not a word back. That was August. This is December. Nothing.

Another shit bag that needs to die and is probably on top of the world. Him and the cunt who gave me the latest street sweeping ticket, sitting in a PT Cruiser somewhere finger-fucking each other and laughing through the stink of it all.

I will now play the UK as often as possible just on the off chance that one day I'll be able to publicly humiliate this mudhole. If I remember, that is. Until then, I count on the fictional Jesus to put cancer on the tips of his retarded childrens tongues so that it should spread like dandelions across the groins of their uncles.

But enough of my troubles.

Last week we went to Austin for the release of my new DVD "Word of Mouth", which I still can't bring myself to watch for fear of hating it like everything else I've done, and also for the demise of the once proud Velveeta Room Comedy Club. The Velv has been a staple of Austin comedy forever and has now been taken over by some schlubs who are booking the dregs of 1980's stand-up medocrity so as to save them from another corporate gig or Wendy's commercial audition.

Velveeta, it's sad to see you go.

Thanks to all the Austin people who showed up - to Kevin Booth and for all the work on the DVD and especially to Don King, the Austin tittie bar grand potentate who continues to bring droves of loud drunks to my shows down there. I actually got complaint email about your party. Those ass-buckets will never get the beauty of chaos but it's nice for once to get the comments sent to me about the audience rather than the visa-versa.

Remember that, before you fire off your comments. I stopped doing this for you years ago.

Check out this message board Joel set up.


No, I can't get you tickets to the AVN Awards. I have never been asked for comps so much as this event. But it's 225 bucks a seat so you can see why they might get cunty about errant freebies. Maybe one of you rich cocksuckers could buy a 10-top for 2000 dollars and leave it open for my people. Or maybe you can just send me $2000 via Paypal and I'll do it myself. You really have no excuse not to. Phil Mielke from Wisconsin sent me 25 bucks for no fucking reason and you know what I did with it? Not very much. But it was still really nice.


George Bush and Mushrooms

Nice that George Bush has got around to signing a bill starting to investigate the attacks of 9/11. It only took the administration a month or two to get the “Patriot Act” together to completely rape your rights to privacy. Now over a year later he hires an 80 year old fuck who hasn’t done much but grow polyps since his last great feat - orchestrating the covert bombing of Cambodia - to get to the bottom of what happened on 9/11.

Maybe a year from now he’ll call for an investigation on all this whoop-dee-doo about some sniper.

Meanwhile, the inspectors are busy looking for weapons of mass destruction over in Iraq. I wonder if they are taking away peoples nail clippers and Swiss Army knives. This Austin American-Statesman ran an article this morning regarding the inexperience of the team of inspectors, singling out one Jack McGeorge whose experience aside from the Marines and Secret Service includes being the co-founder of Black Rose and the Leather Leadership Conference, both S&M clubs. This guy could see a corn cob or a horse bit as a destructive weapon.

This “inspection” of Iraq will work like the cliché scene where the southern cop knocks out the hippies tail-light and then gives him a ticket for it being out. They will find something benign or non-existent or they will say that they weren’t allowed “full access”.

“We want to check in your babies asses for stores of smallpox.”

“No fucking way!”

“They won’t comply. Send in the air strike.”

I’m not anti-war out of compassion for innocent lives. Most people need dead as far as I am concerned. I just don’t like the painfully obvious dupe-job that this war is somehow connected to terrorism or being done “for the safety and security of the American people.” Maybe Saddam is an insane egomaniac. Most people who find themselves worthy of leading people would fit the description. But I never felt threatened by him.

I don’t think an American has ever felt threatened by Saddam, save for the military that was sent to fight him a decade back. But that’s what they signed up for, ain’t it? To blindly follow whatever orders the leader of the day calls for, to fire upon whatever target the President says is threatening or “evil”? Ask any of them out of context if they trust politicians and 99 out of 100 will say no without stuttering or a qualifying follow up statement. But they will assume that any orders by those same politicians to kill people must be in the best interest of American safety and nothing but. I guess you’d have to force yourself to think that way.

In Nigeria, Muslims hit the streets throwing death and fire in every direction when a journalist made a comment that the prophet Mohammed may well have chosen one of the Miss World competition as a bride. Hundreds dead in the streets for the slight. How this was construed as an insult, I still don’t know. Maybe this years crop of beauty queens are pigs compared to the poon back in Mohammed’s day.

Odd that the Miss World folks expected more from a country that still practices clitoral circumcision and sentenced a woman to be stoned to death for being raped out of wedlock. Maybe they figured that with all that going on they wouldn’t get flack for objectifying women. Hard to cry sexism for having women in bikinis scrutinized by a panel of judges when there’s a mother across the street being beaned in the head with bricks, her baby continuing to nurse off her flapjack tit until the milk goes bad.

If GW came out and threatened to carpet bomb these nitwit Nigerians for no other reason than being backwards assholes with no known benefit to humanity, it would be far easier to support than trying to swallow rhetoric Iraq being a threat to my daily routine when it’s just about greed and personal vendettas.

It really isn’t the leaders and their bullshit that scare me, it’s the masses that buy it like it was 50 cent draft beer.


Timing is everything.

After the cavalcade of Jager double shots at Dante's in Portland, around where the show began to go into endless rambling and I became less aware of my surroundings, someone decided it was time to eat mushrooms.

And in what seemed like minutes I was compeletely aware of being blackout drunk. Rooms twisting and trailing like a a movie re-enactment of a trip. Completely aware of my mouths inability to create words.

Mary's tittie bar where they say we spent half an hour yet I was positive it was no more than 90 seconds - I saw the mother bartender and daughter dancer become so close in age that I had to look away.

Then to the smut shop where I couldn't get a bill into the dollar slot for a quick spank. All the gutteral sounds from adjoing spank booths were amplified like a stadium in my head and I couldn't tell if they were from movies or actual events taking place. All I knew is that my laughter could get me in trouble here and I couldn't stop. Strange people on the street kept talking to me and Andy, as strange people tend to do when you are out of your mind. This would have been amazing if I weren't so drunk.

It was still a little amazing.

Thanks, Goose, for the trip and Chaille for keeping it all together while the rest of us went out of our heads. Sorry to the folks I didn't get a chance to say hello to.

More thanks to Marconi & Tiny from KNRK for helping me pack the joint. I never have more fun on radio.