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So as part of my “second half of New Year’s Resolution” I have been going to the gym more and doing more running. So after work yesterday (3 cheers for working on Saturdays) I went to New York Sports Club to work on my Ron Burgandy guns (“It’s boring, but it’s part of my life. Watch out, they’ll get ya.”). And like a NYC subway ride, the gym would be an interesting experience.

I was going to grab a 95 lb. dumbell to do a tricep exercise that involves a vein popping out in my forehead, but to get said dumbell I ha to cross in front of a 50-something year old man who was doing some shoulder presses. And as I passed in front of him (we were 2 of 3 people in the weight room at the time) he said quietly, but very clearly, “Get the f–k out of here.” I then stared at him the way a (fully) black man would stare at a crazy white guy who was dropping the N-word. “I am offended and want to fight, but also a little nervous because this guy must be out of his mind or looking for a fight to say something like that.” I acted like nothing had happened, but when I returned the weight he said it again! So this time in my most unconfrontational voice I asked, “Sorry, did you say something?” To which he replied, “ME? No.” And then 15 seconds later he muttered what sound like, “I need my gun (I don’t think he meant guns like mine). But then 2 minutes later, he asked me, “What question did you ask me?”

This blog entry is just basically a plea to NYSC to do some background checks on their members to make sure they are not out of their minds. Even the two trainers (some Eastern European power-lifting type dude and some southern Amazonian lady) agreed with me. I often wonder how the homeless guy on the street who talks to himself got started down that path. Evidently it begins with a passport membership to New York Sports Club.

Then on my train ride home I had the pleasure of sitting next to 3 girls who the only thing more offensive than their bellies hanging out of their shirts was the volume at which they were playing their reggaeton on their radio. I actually was able to envision myself taking their radio and smashing it to the ground like some bi-racial sequel to the Michael Douglas’ movie Falling Down. And then they sang along to it which was a pleasure – just think Rosie Perez with nails on a chalkboard and a bass line. And then I found myself muttering something to the effect of, “Get the F–k out of here with that.” And it was at that moment that I realized that we all have a little crazy New York Sports Club-guy in us.

I am back for more 9/10/06

I got some good news yesterday. I have been invited back for the Boston Comedy Festival in September. Last year I had a strong showing and am looking to improve this year. Sort of like how in Major League II, they advacnce further in the Playoffs than in the first film.

I wish I had more funny stuff to write today, but work is very busy. After all I am very big and it takes a lot to suck the life out of me.

And don’t wish me a Happy 4th. I am working the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th. Independence Day indeed.

“I haven’t read your blog in two weeks.” – J-L Cauvin’s mother

I think my intro line says it all. That said, I will just provide some random observations I have made over the last week:

-Nickleback is this decade’s answer to Collective Soul. A corny rock group who will have a good greatest hits album because they will come out with 8 albums each with one good song and a bunch of crap.

-Cornell alumni are not welcome at my shows unless they shut the f–k up. Last night at the Village Lantern (a great show put on by Colin Kane in the West Village area on Saturdays), a group of female Class of 2006 Cornell grads were there and did not shut up during the show. I said that I would get through my material, but finally I said to them:

“You know ladies. I wish this club was Deadwood. You know why? Because then you would be whores and I could be Al Swearenjen. I guess that would make Colin Kane Cy Tolliver.” I do not think they got my reference.

So if you go to a show it is cool to talk to the comic once or twice, but talking for 90 minutes straight through every comic is not cool.

But the worst part is when I heard my own Mother was not reading my blog. That is what is known as “rock bottom” in the entertainment industry.

So entering the second half of 2006 I will double up my efforts to deliver great comedy product to all 0 of my fans. Let’s do it!

Oh, and with 30+ sales, my album officially went platinum in Haiti.

So last night I went out with a few friends of mine to a new spot on 29th and 3rd call Tonic East. We were out to watch Game 6 of the NBA Finals, but we were in store for much more. Present in my party were a college teammate of mine (also 6’7″), known hereafter as “Zimbabwe,” a friend of ours from college who works for G-Unit records (“G-Unit”), an aspiring singer who accompanied him who bore a shocking resemblance to Beyonce (so much so that I was told that some people on the subway to the bar asked) (“Lil’ Beyonce”) and my nameless high school friend (“____”).

As the game entered the second quarter Michael Strahan from the NY Giants entered the bar. He entered to lots of stares with a small entourage and a nice looking lady friend. He was standing for quite some time right next to me and my college teammate and I witnessed a few strange things.

For one I am bigger than Michael Strahan. This was disturbing for “______” because Strahan appears larger than life on tv and is a sick athlete, but to see me on a diet of height, donuts and weights appear bigger was quite sad for him.

Secondly, women kept scoping out me and Zimbabwe. This may seem like arrogance on my part, but alas it is not because it had nothing to do with me. Women really do like money and fame. And we were close enough to Strahan, while resembling like we might actually be football or basketball players that I could actually see one or two women calculating potential paternity payments into their financial plans for 2007.

The third thing I noticed is that Dwayne Wade pisses me off. I hated Michael Jordan because he got all the calls but he had earned them from years of spectacular dominance. DW is in his 3rd year and the call that they made with about 20 seconds left on Dirk Nowitzki was atrocious. Sorry to break story, but Dwayne Wade should not be getting calls like that so early in his career (or ever).

After leaving the bar I was offered a job to bounce at the bar on weekends, but it will probably not be possible due to my incredibly sensitive, top secret day job.

I was then convinced by my friends to go to a bar where there were some college friends of ours and a karaoke thing. Zimbabwe got up and gave perhaps the worst performance of What’s Going On in recorded time (which served him right for trying to sign me up to make it a duet).

When I woke up this morning I saw on page 3 of the NY Daily News that Strahan’s wife is saying that he had an affair with another man. I was appalled at that allegation. I mean, he didn’t even offer to buy me a drink. Well I guess it is hard to impress a real celebrity with fake celebrity.

I had an interesting Saturday. It started out by going to the high school near my day job (top secret) to receive a mentor of the year award. Several of my teammates and opponents from my work basketball league protested my receiving the award because of my shameful conduct (4 technical fouls in an 8 game season – none for dunking). However, just like Ty Cobb’s racism and OJ’s murdering, the mentor award committee said that my conduct off of the mentoring field are not factors in determining who is eligible for the award.

But seriously I was one of 4 mentors of the year and it was a very nice honor. However, they told us to dress casually so because the weatherman said it would be 90 so I went in shorts and sneakers. Every other mentor was wearing a tie and jacket so, which is commonly known as “selling J-L out.” So after the celebration (it was not just about me – the school had a bunch of other functions, including a tribute to the Tuskegee Airmen, who were at the school). After that I met some of my mentee’s family, wished him luck on his science regent’s exam and then made my next stop to serve the community: off to a detective’s house for beers and BBQ.

My detective friend lives on the edge of the Bronx, literally. His house is the last house on the last block and then there is a huge field of untamed land. I was very tempted to slaughter all the people on that land and claim it for my heirs. Instead I just had some Coors light.

Note I did not bring my mentee to this event because high school kids should not drink Coors light.

I then left the party to go home and shower for an 8 pm show. The show was located in a studio above the Laugh Factory in Times Square (for credit purposes let’s just say I performed at the Laugh Factory). It really looked like the kind of place where some sleazy guy says, “Hey hot lady. You wanna come up to my studio. I photograph models.” And when she gets up there, cautionary tales ensue.

I got up to studio 315 and a large man with dreds greeted me. I sat down and prepared my set. The room was clearly used for model shots, but had been set up in a small theater-like ambiance.

When the show finally started there was a whopping total of 12 people, including comics. It was such a small room and such a small crowd that I had to forsake my trademark height and sit so as not to intimidate anyone.

And this is why comedy is very unpredictable. I had a great time. I did a nice 11-12 minute set and had a lot of fun. Sometimes 10 enthusiastic people are as much fun as a packed club. And I worked a new bit (on dentists) into much better shape and added a potentially devastating compliment to my Owen Wilson bit as Joseph (Vince Vaughn as Joseph’s friend explaining why it is not so bad that Mary’s kid is not his). And the best part is that someone in the audience bought my CD. I am thinking of planting someone at each of my shows from now on to buy a CD – sort of like the guy who wins at 3 Card Monty to draw others in.

Then I met my friend (who shall remain nameless because he has terrible fright of any potential public career being smeared by an association with this website) at bar XII on 34th and 3rd. I have never felt older in my life. We looked around and realized that at 27 and 26, years of age we were practically the “old dudes” at a bar. Very sad indeed. I then went and had my customary drunk snack – 3 donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts. And although intoxicated, I can still think to myself – “Tomorrow I am going start getting into shape.” And on Sunday I did – I had a good lift, accentuated by the drunken dehydration, which makes you look cut up before a day later when you just look out of shape. And then I followed it up with a healthy dinner of burger and fries with my Dad for Father’s Day. Community Hero. Comedian. Family Man. All in a weekend for me.

Well, finally Itunes wised up and added Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. I checked in a few times over the last couple of weeks and it was missing. Obviously, Shakira thought that she could hold the music listening audience hostage to buy her whole new album. But it did not work and I say thank you Itunes. No longer do I have to be embarassed when people on the train see me listening to Color Me Badd’s All 4 Love or LFO’s Girl on TV. But there is a bit of a problem.

Without the video of Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie the song is not quite as good. The song is a pretty enjoyable summer tune, but without the video it is like Colin Farrell and amorality. Without the latter, the former is just not as fascinating. I quickly learned my lesson though. When pondering whether or not to order the Pussycat Dolls’ Buttons off of Itunes I realized that I would not have the video either. And that was a wise observation because that song actually flat out sucks.

I also am sort of angry at my Ipod. I bought, a year and a half ago, the 40GB version, which holds 10,000 songs. I have a large CD collection and I thought that I would at least exceed 5,000 songs right away. As of today I am at approximately 3,2000 songs. If you can fill up a 40GB or 60GB Ipod you should be tortured by Kevin Spacey for the sins of greed and gluttony. Secondly, with a dial up e-mail account Itunes are like the county store 25 miles away in the year 1880. Every few months I have the time to stock up. It took me like 15 minutes to load up Hips Don’t Lie. I have slated the week of June 26th to load my next song on to my Ipod.

But the greatest thing will happen to Itunes next month, when my CD is available on Itunes. That’s all for today.

This weekend I headed to the Purple Valley (aka Williamstown, Mass.) for my 5 year reunion. 5 year reunions are interesting for college because they are not far enough for anyone to be really different from college. Many of us were either just out of grad school or in grad school. So that said, the weekend consisted of intravenous beer consumption and determining which girls had acquired eating disorders, who had lost the most hair and who you still hated.

It was nice catching up, but my mind was elsewhere for much of the weekend because Sunday at 9 pm was the premiere of Deadwood. Fortunately one of my friends from college was almost as equally obsessed and willing to trade quotes and vulgarities. And another friend of mine who has grown an incredibly thick and neat beard bore a slight resemblance to Silas Adams (a bit character on Deadwood).

So after beer for 48 hours and awkward re-introductions (which made less and less awkward by beer) it was back to NYC to the friendly confines of the Bronx for Deadwood, which bears an interesting resemblance to the Bronx, but with much more flowery vocabulary.

And my review for the season premier is A-. It would have been an A, but I wanted more Powers Boothe scenes. The only show that is better on tv right now is The Wire. People who would raise Lost, The Shield, 24 or CSI as better are stupid. CSI is just not good. The Shield was good, but the novelty of cops who murder other cops and wear tight t-shirts despite being built like 68 year old grandmothers is over. 24 is a good show, especially given the constraints of network tv, but is simply lacks the attention to detail and the overall quality of acting of most HBO shows. As for Lost – I thought season 1 was a B/B+ and I have been told by bigger fans than me that this season is without question worse than last season.

I then watched Entourage which was quite solid and then I watched Tourgasm. It goes without saying that I feel there was not enough Gulman in the show and way too much of Jay Davis. I swear I could hear Tom Hanks screaming, “THERE’S NO CRYING ON TOURGASM!”

An Inconvenient F–king Truth

Without new material comics eventually become boring. Just ask anyone who has heard me compare my appearance to the Rock and Adam Sandler. 87 times.

But I live in a vibrant area of New York City known as the Bronx. As Gary Gulman has eloquently put it, I gave you “the” and a noun and everyone is on board. Well I am not sure I can ever move out of the Bronx because like a Middle Eastern prince I am heavily reliant on its natural resources. But unlike the black gold that seeps from the deserts of our brothers across the globe, we do not have a tangible natural resource. Ours is not as rare, but it is so much more valuable because ours is a renewable resource. It does not make cars go, but it makes traffic jams more entertaining. It does not stop global warming, but it gives people something to express the heat they feel. It will not protect our young from a harsher environment, but it can easily spill from the mouth of a child. That’s right – our natural resource is foul language and as I walked back from my lunchtime constitutional from the post office I could see that the Boogie Down and my comedy career would have a supply for generations to come.

As I was walking back to work from the Post Office I saw a boy, about 13 years old, talking to a girl who was about 13 years old. When I saw the anger of the girl I anticipated that it was either over child support payments or American Idol. But I realized that this had to do with minding one’s own business.

Girl: Y’all yellow colored N-gg-s need to shut the f–k up.

Boy: I was just saying that I saw you in the park.

Girl: And y’all n-gg=-s better not be sayin’ sh-t to my brotha.

JL inner monologue: Stop snitchin’ is right. And can someone please address why the Latinos are co-opting the N word. I think it is a deplorable word, which makes me wonder, how did Latinos slide there way into using it – different blog, different time.

Boy: But I was just saying hi.

Girl: F–K that. That ain’t y’all business. I don’t care if I am fuc-ing him in the middle of the street. That ain’t y’all business.

JL inner monologue: Technically that would not be anyone’s business, but it would be a crime. I am not sure what section of the NYS Penal Law governs sex with 13 year olds in the middle of the Grand Concourse, but I am sure it carries a heavy penalty.

Boy (walking away): agggghh

Girl: BITCH!!!!

After witnessing this I had a few thoughts:

1) When is the wedding?

2) When will you two procreate?

3) Can someone please tell girl’s brother because based on her reaction to that possiblity I can only imagine what sort of reaction brother will have? Probably something like Tony Montana when he finds Steven Bauer sleeping with his sister – CUE THE HAUNTING SYNTHESIZER.

4) Wait a second – why aren’t you 2 in school?

So to those who would give dire predictions about foul language drying up in the next 50 years and who would say that New York will be a cozy, comfortable, polite place to live in I say to you, look at the gift of hope given to us by our children. Surely cursing and rude behavior need not be something we hear about or see on Deadwood (Season 3 this Sunday – YES). Each and everyone of us can learn from that little girl that creating an uninhabitable, crude environment is a responsibility each of us has to take personally. Fu-k may be a four letter word, but it is also a renewable resource.

Quick update on my CD sales. I am already 999,983 from going platinum. Let’s make it happen people.

I am a big sports fan. But I am tired of the discussion of steroids. Just go read Game of Shadows and you will see that half of professional sports is on some sort of undetectable steroid (track and field is probably the only sport dirtier than baseball, which is a pity because no one even gives a shit about track and even fewer care about field).

And I hate it when people make it like the hatred of Barry Bonds is about race. The hatred of Hank Aaron was all about race. Of all people I am privy to still existent racism (track 20 of Racial Chameleon), but to suggest that people are mad at Barry Bonds for anything other than his new bobble head and the fact that he is a royal prick (he dumped his white girlfriend of several years because he needed to marry a black woman for his image (he said it, not me) – who’s racist?). Until recently, no one gave Mark McGwire or Sammy Sosa any gruff because they made it fun. They demonstrated that steroids can bring out the best in us. They were like the steroid super heroes. While the same vat of radioactive steroids also affected bad people, like Barry Bonds and he became a steroid super villain, with guys like Jason Giambi being the guys who can’t decide what side of the steroid war they want to be on, like Pyro in X-Men 2. Meanwhile Jose Canseco showed that steroids can destroy weights and the English language in his crapoir “Juiced.”

But after all of this I am tired of the discussion. Barry Bonds is a great player. He is also a piece of crap. And he is a lot better because of steroids. But no one is talking about steroids in another field of American culture. Rap or Hip-Hop. All the artists who got physically huge saw gains in their careers, but also different types of injuries to their careers (just like ahtletes who do steroids). Here is the evidence:

LL Cool J started it (maybe he is the Jose Canseco of rap – “I never injected 50 Cent personally, but I know he was interested.”) He has always been a weight room guy, but in the last 3 years he became NFL size with bodybuilder cuts. And his music is not as good now.

Then came Treach from Naughty by Nature. He was intimidating and made it on to this Season of the Sopranos (benefits of steroids), but he also banged Peppa of Salt N Peppa, and that is his injury. And Naughty by Nature is nowhere to be found.

Then came the McGwire of rap – 50 Cent. This guy has bigger breasts than half of Playboy. But it did get him In da Club. Perhaps his album “Get Rich or Die Tryin’” really means “I don’t care if these ‘roids give me a heart attack, I need to get paid.” Like McGwire’s andro, 50 Cent’s gunplay is just a cover for his steroid use. However, since becoming a gigantic rapper he has suffered numerous injuries. His film was an insult to the memory of Mariah Carey’s Glitter. And if anyone saw the video “Candy Shop” I think we can see that 50 Cent’s C-Cups may need some support in the near future.

And then came Ja Rule, who like an undersized second basemen named Brett Boone, decided he wanted to get big and paid. And he did, but he still sounds like Scooby Doo going through puberty. And every movie he is in sucks (Scary Movie 3, The Fast and The Furious, Assault on Precinct 13)

(Side note – the 3rd installment of the Fast and the Furoius is coming out this summer. Note to movie audiences – if VIn Diesel decides that a movie series is not worth it (for the second installment) it probably sucks. If Paul Walker decides not to make a movie it probably means the world will end when people pay money to see it. That said The 3rd one stars megastar Bow Wow)

And now we come to Busta Rhymes – the new test case for steroids in rap. I enjoy most of Busta’s music. It is varied and most of it is pretty good. He has also been in at least one decent movie, Finding Forrester (“YOU’RE THE MAN NOW DAAAAAAAAAG”). But now he has gone from a Rasheed Wallace-lanky-type build to looking like Ray Lewis of the Baltimore Ravens. Immediately the impact was felt on his career. His bouncer was shot and he refuesd to cooperate with the authorities. Now he has a new album coming out. If history is any indicator Busta could be in trouble.

I personally have done the opposite with my album coming out. I have made a concerted effort to get in progressively worse shape, you know, so my work doesn’t suffer.

An unbiased review of my debut CD, by Me

Well, the day has arrived. My debut cd is ready for shipping and sale and to assist you in your decision to purchase it I offer the following review by me.

The buzz started early for this 71 minute comedic masterpiece. These were two of the reviews for the live performance:

“It’s hard to be funny for an hour.” – My Uncle

“You didn’t suck.” – friend from law school.

The CD starts with hilarious observations of my family and then moves into lampooning my Catholic faith. (Family and Religion – I am amazed no comic has yet tried to tackle these sources of humor).

Topics that resonate well with the crowd on the cd and are sure to have dozens of people laughing at their cd palyers include Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Pope, Holiday stereotypes, and the always hilarious prison rape. The true highlight of the cd is probably my insightful commentary on what dating a woman with a kid is like. I am already on ACS’ 10 most wanted if I ever become a parent.

Overall I think the CD is a masterstroke of comedy. I take the crowd on a journey of impressions (George Bush, Arnold S, Aaron Neville, Owen Wilson, Jean Claude Van Damme, Jack Bauer, Nicholas Cage) and insensitive comments that will surely have my friends, family and the occasional accidental visitor to my wrebsite rolling with laughter.

However, some comedy fact checkers may take issue with some liberties I take in my routine and I will let the truth be known now.

POINT 1 – Gary Glitter is not American and therefore cannot technically outsource his pedophilia to Southeast Asia. However, his tour de force Rock N Roll Pt 2 is an American sports institution and by that he is like an American. Also, he was not having sex with 11 year old boys as I say on the cd. It was 11 year old girls. I hope that I did not portray him in an unfair light with my misleading facts.

POINT 2 – Jean Claude Van Damme in the film Nowhere to Run was seen naked by a 6 year old girl, but he was not toweling off as I indicate on the cd. He was just standing there. What an actor.

Point 3 – I have been asked by a fan if I would be doing a signing at Virgin Megastore in Times Square. I will not be, but I will be intimidating midwestern families who venture by Vigin Megastore into buying several copies of my cd.

So go to the store and enjoy what J-L Calls “a masterpiece” of comedy.

In all seriousness, it is a good cd and I hope you enjoy it. Thanks