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Last night I preformed a 12 minute set at Limerick House, a medium size bar in Chelsea. The show is called La Boca – feel free to translate for me. Headlining the show was none other than a blog favorite, Gary Gulman (wearing a baseball cap – which was strange if you have listened to track 1 on his CD).

One question some of my friends had was, “what is he doing this show for?” Sure 18 audience members is a far cry form headlining Gotham or playing the Comedy Cellar, but I think Gulman had a different plan. I think it was like in Mighty Ducks 2, where the Ducks had to play some street hockey to get their intensity and love of the game back.

But this blog is about me and the set I had last night. It was not as good as the set I had at Gotham last week. It was pretty good though, but I could feel nervousness because Gulman was there watching.

Some people might ask why were you nervous; it was just sort of like an open mic? The atmosphere may have been open mic-ish, but imagine you are a Latino rapper working out some tight new rhymes and in walks Gerardo. Faster than you can say Rico Suave your mouth might dry up. I feel like that is what happened to me last night.

And some girl kept saying “Wow” in an exasperated way during my set, except when I made an AIDS joke, to which she laughed heartily. Fortunately, Gulman dispatched of her with a rare moment of feigned arrogance on the part of Gulman. Here is the basic transcript.

WOW girl: incoherent chatting

Gulman: That girl is trying to act like she doesn’t want to f–k me, so I will want to f–k her, but she forgets… I’m f–king Gary Gulman. I’m in like 28th grade and she’s using her sophomore NYU tricks.

Brilliant.

Gulman had told me after the set that he also had a bit involving an Ipod and Gatorade (his terror joke is probably better than mine, but I think I look the part much better) so I should not think that he is ripping off my bit. I told him I would brag about it if he did so it didn’t matter to me. He then said that we are thinking on the same wave length.

And he’s right because all I kept thinking was: I’m f–king J-L Cauvin.

I had to work this weekend. So I had limited time to enjoy myself. So I went to the gym (“it’s part of my life. Watch out for the guns, they’ll getcha.”) and went to see Invincible.

This was my favorite movie of the Summer, narrowly beating out Cars.

Marky Mark has found his calling – playing 70s characters. Something about the hair and the shirts of the 70s bring out the best in his acting and movie choices. If you like sports movies I think this one is pretty money.

Other things I learned this weekend during my limited free time.

1) A digital camera and a great shirt can be lethal in the hands of a girlfriend.

2) Gary Gulman is headlining a FREE show I am on this Tuesday. I hope it will be like Daniel Son and Mr Miyagi, as opposed to Obi Wan and Annakin Skywalker. Should be a blast – come out for it – check the calendar.

3) Working weekends are the worst.

Time to watch Deadwood Season 3 Finale.

Cocksucker.

I feel good.

Many of you reading this have seen “the dunk” on my media clips. If I was a a D-I baller that would have been too lame to put on my website. If I was a D-III star that wouldn’t have been cool. But as a D-III benchwarmer (the man keeping my half black side down) the dunk was sensational, especially as a last play for a disappointing career. Like Rudy getting the sack at the end of Rudy, minus the inspiration.

The reference is because my Mom, who had traveled for 4 years to see me warm the bench was not there. I told her not to come to my last game because, “Mom, you’ve wasted enough time coming to see this bullsh–. Don’t come to this one.” Well, of course it was a career highlight and she missed it.

Well last night I had a great set at Gotham. Really great. It may have been “the dunk” of my comedy career. The owner of Gotham, at a free seminar, had told all the comics – mine your autobiographical stuff – “tell us about you and what makes your life funny or interesting.” So I wrote and tweaked and wrote and open mic and dug up old jokes and voila – a set worthy of an assistant DA/Haitian/Irish/6’7″ comic. The sad news: My Mom, who has been to practically every bringer I have done, good and bad, was not there.

I think I realize what is impeding my path to greatness. Mom, you have to stop coming to my shows. Only then can I achieve dunks every night.

Just kidding Mom, and no I’m not ready to move out.

Boston people – get ready for the festival. And Brooklyn people – check me out Friday. Go to the schedule.

Killing, Dying and a Clown’s breasts

On Thursday I had a great set at Gotham Comedy Club’s open mic. Nothing more needs to be said about it. And I wouldn’t think to say anything about it, except for the fact that the show Friday was such a contrast.

On Friday night I was at the Teabag (nice name) Variety Show in Chinatown. Usually a nice crowd and Friday was no different. They didn’t seem to enjoy my jokes as much, but that is how comedy works. The real fireworks began after I got off stage.

That night there was a woman there to perform. The best way to describe her was that she was dressed like a really slutty clown. She had the largest back tattoo I’ve seen on a woman – it was DNA or RNA all down her back – very strange. She would either enhance or cure your fear of clowns if you have one. So she gets on stage and says that since the show is a variety hour she decided to bring her burlesque performance to the show. One of the producers of the show asked me what burlesque was and not being quite sure I said, “Maybe she’s a Can Can girl.” None of us truly knew what we would see.

She began by telling a few jokes and blowing a clown horn. She then continued to blow the clown horn… with her cleavage. Then she continued to blow the horn with her butt cheeks. All this while getting progressively more naked. She then began popping her balloons (part of her clown disguise) in between her legs – it was covered by her skirt.

Then came the piece de resistance.

She then pulled off her top to reveal pasties and began whirling her breasts around in flying circles. I knew I would have to write this story because when my HBO special Tallgasm debuts in 2028 I want a great, “Remember when I was a struggling comic and the pasties girl went on stage after me. That’s when I realized I would never make it.”

I then went to check out another open mic with Lance Weiss (a comic from Atlanta, by way of G-Town undergrad), who pronounces his last name “Weece,” because in the South it is illegal to pronounce your name “Wice” because of its high “Jewiness.” Anyway, I then went to Maui Taco, the basement of a fast food taco restaurant on 33rd and 5th. While waiting for spots (we decided not to because we would have been there for a long time) I say probably the worst comic in the world right now. I don’t hate on too many comics, but I am not sure this guy gets it. Take Yakov Smirnoff, subtract the comedic genius and you have this guy. Ouch.

The point of this is that when Dane Cook said on Tourgasm that he wanted to show people what being a comedian was all about. Fair enough.

Well I am pitching a documentary series to HBO on what it is like being a struggling comic. It would be called “Somebody kill me on Friday night, but only after the clown stops shaking around.”

A hit in the making.

Come check out the product of this work on Tuesday at Gotham. Check calendar and MySpace for info.

Possible Giveaway

So some interesting things have happened in the last 2 days:

1) The Jon Benet case – they guy they caught may not have done it, but he sure looks like a molester. Has anyone asked Gary Glitter where he was that day?

2) The wiretaps decision in Detroit – the Framers of the 4th Amendment and the lawmakers who drafted the FISA statute must really have hated America and the troops.

3) Snakes on a Plane opening – Samuel L. Jackson has become a sham. If Michael Jackson cannot float along on Thriller anymore, than SLJ should not be allowed to be “hip” and “cool” because of Pulp Fiction. That guy chooses movies like HBO’s Hookers on the Point choose Johns – not very discriminating.

But this blog is about me – I need people to come to my show on Tuesday at Gotham Comedy Club. All info is on my calendar and my MySpace page. If you e-mail me or send me a MySpace message to the effect that you are going I can promise you 2 things if you actually show up for me:

1) A great show, with some new material from me

2) A copy of Racial Chameleon at a severely discounted price. If you don’t know this CD – it is my 71 minute live debut CD which has received rave reviews from my friends and a few random people. (f I go nuts there may even be an Oprah moment (or a Howard Dean moment) where I stand on stage and yell – “You get a CD and you get a CD and you get a CD and then we’re going to Washington AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH.”

Shoot me a message, comment or MySpace message if interested.

More train adventures plus a bonus cab story

So last night I hopped on the 4 train en route To Peter Lugar restaurant in Brooklyn. Sitting next to me was a young Latino couple in their early-mid 20s. At 86th Street a man, who appeared to be Indian (Bombay, not Dances With Wolves) got on the train.

He asked the young couple, “What stop next?” They seemed a little confused so I said 59th Street. He replied, “Oh, I need to get off.” (the 4 train is an express train that skips stops so presumably he needed the local. Then it got weird.

Indian said to the young Latino male: “You are lucky, very nice couple. They is jealous. THEY IS JEALOUS (3 more times, while pointing at me).

I then looked at the young Latino male and said: “I am very jealous. And shouldn’t it be ‘they are’ jealous?’”

Then Indian guy said to young Latino couple: “Enjoy your life as long as you have it.”

My inner monologue then said, “dude I know that India is not the same as the Middle East, but I cannot speak for everyone on this train. Maybe slow down with the ‘enjoy your life as long as you have it’ talk on a crowded train.” Then came the best part.

Indian guy then says: “Because all Americans are garbage (5-10 times).

Young Latin female says to young Latin male: “Should I tell him we are American (laughing)?”

The Indian man then got off at 59th street. So much for the see something, say something campaign. We all saw it, but no one said anything. But it is refreshing to see that the terrorists have not won and we have not changed our habit of ignoring crazies on the subway.

So after a dinner of shrimp, steak and cheesecake at Peter Lugar I took the subway home. Uneventful so far. But then I needed to hop a quick cab ride home from the subway station. I got into the cab and was greeted by some guy from Eastern Europe. As he told me he has only been here for 45 years, so that explained why he had not yet lost his thick accent. Then he told me a funny story. And by funny I mean disgraceful.

His story was prompted by several jaywalkers, who I feel should be struck by cars if and only if they:

1) don’t wave thanks

2) do it extremely slowly,

and

3) give that defiant, what the f–k are you gonna do stare.

But sometimes angry jaywalkers get a little more than what they should. Anyway, we had a few jaywalkers so he told me the story, here it is:

“Today, before I pick you up I see a big, fat black woman walking against the light in front of other keb (cab) driver. He honk her and she says ‘I go where I want.’ He says ‘you don’t have light’ and she says, ‘but you supposed to stop for me mother f–ker.’ So cab driver gets out of keb and punch this woman in the face and she fell to ground and her head was bleeding. (laughing). The police ask me what I see and I say. Sorry I see nothing. And the woman think she saw white keb, but that was because she was dizzy. The guy who hit her came from black keb, but she don’t know (laughing).

At that point all I could hear was Neil Diamond’s “America” playing in my head. A truly inspiring story of apathy and cruelty – THEY’RE COMING TO AMERICA. Maybe I’ll e-mail this one to Lou Dobbs. Occasionally in a melting pot, some ingredients get mixed in that f—k up the recipe.

So it had been a few days since I had seen The Descent so I needed to see some quality filmmaking. Oliver Stone is a good movie guy and the reviews for World Trade Center were pretty good. So I ventured to the movies by myself (not a good movie to go, “Hey wanna go see World Trade Center?”

I also brought a turkey sandwich and green tea with me because I did not feel like WTC was a “popcorn movie.”

The first half of the film was very tough to watch, knowing what happens. It was pretty scary to see it collapse from the inside, but I thought the direction was pretty tasteful. The second half of the film is what bothered me. And once again, in a summer of DaVinci Code, the scariest person for me in this film was not a terrorist. It was a Catholic (so he appeared – though he may have just been Christian).

There is a dude who goes to Ground Zero (apparently the guy who discovered Nicholas Cage and William Pena’s real-life counterparts) because he believed it was his God-driven mission. Now he may be right – and how can he be proven wrong, after all, he did discover 2 of the last 3 survivors of 9/11 at the World Trade Center. Sort of like telling John Brown, who believed himself to be an avenging angel from God, that he was wrong, even though he helped begin the end of slavery in America. But still the portrayal of my fellow Catholic was too spooky and here are some of the reasons:

1) He looks like the lead singer of 3 Doors Down

2) He dresses up in Marine gear.

3) He doesn’t let anyone refer to him by his name, without his title, even though he is not in active duty.

4) He never smiles, even when he finds survivors.

5) He fought 2 tours of duty in Iraq after 9/11, even though they didn’t attack us on 9/11. Ooops.

The most moving part of the movie I thought was seeing the hundreds of workers helping the two guys out of the rubble. Nicholas Cage gives his best performance since Kiss of Death (phenomenal from 1994) and the movie is pretty good overall (B+). I am just tired of every critic calling the movie great. It was not great.

It is as if the movie critics have been taken over by politicians as well. Like if you criticize a film about 9/11, you criticize America and as a result you DON’T SUPPORT THE TROOPS. Well, go see it, but it is not great, it is just good.

Besides the best picture of the year will be Babel (based on previews).

A date that will live on in Haitian infamy

In case you’re wondering, the title is poking fun at George W. Bush who insists on adding “the” in between September and 11th, when referring to 9/11. Well, August the 11th, 1931 is a lesser known day in history, but important to me.

75 years ago in Haiti, a man named Louis Cauvin was born, the 45th of 77 children (no, just 10th of 11, I think). That man would grow up to come to the United States and marry my Mom, who would give birth to a 9 lb, 11 oz boy (9/11 again, my brother) and 6 1/2 years later give birth to a 10 lb, 7 oz boy (me, thus explaining why I am still a large human being).

But as my father ages I realize, just like WWII veterans who are passing away in droves, my father represents a critical piece of history as far as I am concerned. He is some of the only proof that I am half black. Now granted, I have a healthy summer tan going (all natural, unlike some of the microwavable chicks I work with), but come winter I need the authenticity that only he can bring.

Instead what seems to be happening is that, like a true Racial Chameleon, people perceive me to be the race of the person or persons accompanying me. When I am with my Puerto Rican lady, men on the #4 train will shake my hand in support of my Boricua-ness, as they go on tirades criticizing white people (true story). When I am with my friend Manny (6,7″ as well, from Zimbabwe, very NBA ballerish looking), I will not be able to get a cab and I will rely on my nameless 5’8″ Jewish friend to hail cab (true story). And if I am with my Arabic friends hijacking a train, people will assume I am Arabic or from Under Siege 2. All other times people will just call me white.

So I say Happy Birthday to my father and please, be around when I am telling my racial suggestive material. However, if I am ever campaigning for national office and have to travel to any red states, especially ones that still waive Confederate flags, stay home.

Oh and a special message from George Bush (Fredo), Dick Cheney (Lukabrazzi) and Joe Lieberman (Hyman Roth): IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO DISAGREE WITH THE WAR, FOR ANY REASON, AND NOT SUPPORT TERRORISTS AT THE SAME TIME (yes GWB would use double and triple negatives). I just thought that would eliminate the need for any nuanced discussion or sharing of ideas. Whether you think it was wrong from the start, mishandled once we got there, or just now unwinnable, you must support the war. And if you think we can’t win, you should still support the War, because nothing says Patriotism to the Family like the loss of young Americans in a futile cause.

That last paragraph could be construed as a birthday present to my Dad, who is somewhere between Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind and Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory when it comes to the Bush administration. But even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Personally I think Oliver Stone did the whole thing in England to boost sales for World Trade Center.

So yesterday after work I went to see The Descent, a horror film. I usually don’t see many horror films because they are pretty crappy. The acting is almost always awful and they are just sort of becoming gore fests, with no emphasis on actually frightening people. However, the reviews from the NY Daily News and New York Times gave me feelings that this one was different and would actually be a scary experience. Going to this movie would be a scary experience, but the Descent would have very little to do with it.

Upon entering the theater, the first thing I noticed (I was with AJ’s Mom – if you don’t know who that is – listen to my CD) was that there was a group of girls ages 11-14, with their mother, who was probably 30.Now most guys think girls are checking them out and are only right at about 15% of the time (my rate is actually 75%, but I don’t know what these other dudes are thinking). But most dudes without criminal records do not want that statistic to include 6th graders. So I ignored what seemed like glances of an adult nature from La Micky Mouse Club and began to watch the movie (this story continues).

As for the movie, the first half was actually pretty scary, even thought the creatures looked like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. However, a horror film is only scary when the victims/heroes are vulnerable and have to escape. it loses something when the victims kick the sh-t out of the creatures and begin impaling their brains with bones and knives. Instead the second half of the film was just about how bloody and nasty the film could get, with no attention paid to actually scaring anyone. Well, that’s not true. Some of the 6 and 7 year olds I saw in the theater (literally 6 or 7) seemed pretty afraid. So was I… at the sight of parents taking their 1st graders to R-rated gore fests! Without going Tipper Gore on you, I really think because there are so many stupid/shi–y parents in the world today, R rated movies should have an age minimum. If you want to take your 11 or 12 year old to an R rated movie fine (still show some prudence), but if you’re like the jackass who took his 3 year old to Texas Chainsaw Massacre in DC and were sitting two rows from me a few years ago, the MPAA needs to help you in parenting. If you don’t know that a woman puling a gun from her vagina and blowing her brains out (opening scene in TCM) is inappropriate for your son or daughter, who cannot read or write or understand the difference between truth and a lie, go to the bathroom by themselves, etc. then you need to be sterilized and go to parenting classes ASAP.

So when the movie ended my lady friend and I left. She had to go to the bathroom because she is a woman and I waited outside. And here comes Mom and her gaggle of horny 6th and 7th graders? I had made a joke to AJ’s Mom earlier about them and she laughed it off. However, as she saw them eyeing me as we left the theater area, and again as we left the shopping center, she said that she was offended and would want to say something to them… if they were in high school. And after all, their mother was scoping me too. My thoughts could be summed up in what I said to my lady friend: “In 5 years, they’d still be illegal.”

Now granted I have been on a much more rigorous fitness routine (no not John Basedow’s Fitness Made Simple), I have a slick new haircut and a vacation tan, so I cannot blame their taste. And like compliments from a gay man which can sometimes boost the self esteem of a sad straight man, I am not one to reject extra attention. But this was too far.

I went to a horror movie and discovered 2 scary things – theaters do not think twice about letting small children watch movies that are wholly inappropriate for them. When little Tim or DaeShawn is asked in his 2nd grade class, “What did you do this Summer?” His response should not be, “I saw some scary ni-ga get his brain ripped out by some mountain climbing bit-h.” Unless he really saw that happen, in which case he will need some counseling and a book deal.

Secondly, with teen pregnancy, disease, low self esteem, depression and a host of other problems plaguing young Latinas (read the NY times editorials from a few weeks ago) it is really, truly frightening to see a group of girls ranging from 6th-8th grades “checking out” a man with Mom joining in on the fun. I believe the saddest part is that the damage is already done with these girls. Their formative years have probably exposed them to a world where 6th graders can shake there ass in front of a grown man and it is to be encouraged. So The Descent was scary, but not because of the film – it was pretty weak. I won’t get too preachy because this is a comedy website, but something needs to start changing socially and culturally and politically if things are going to change in my home county (Da Bronx).

That moral lesson out of the way I have to prep a set for tonight. I am working a show at a 13th birthday party.

if only Mel Gibson were running for the Senate in Connecticut

I am not a Joe Lieberman fan. For one he made Al Gore more boring in 2000, even during a career high in boringness for Al Gore (from 1991-2000 Al Gore was in a freefall from young energetic campaigner to stiff, chubby politician (and Lieberman still made the ticket more boring or am I the only one who remembers his make out session with Dick Cheney during the VP debate?). Two, he looks like Howdy Doody, an old boring one. Third, he ran for president in 2004 and had the audacity at one point to exclaim enthusiastically that he was in a “three way dead heat for third place” in a primary. And lastly, he coined the term Joe-Mentum, which is a combination of Joe and Momentum. Much like a moral victory, Joe-Mentum requires an actual loss.

But Lieberman’s biggest problem has been his support of the War in Iraq. He has been like Hyman Roth to The Bush family’s Corleones (as I said in my routine in April and Stephen Colbert referenced last week [coincidence?] George W. is Fredo. Now that he is backtracking on his support for the Bush family I expect a Joe Lieberman shooting in a Florida airport sometime before the November election. But if George W. was actually Michael I could see Condoleezza Hagen saying to him, “You’ve won. Do you have to kill everyone?” And George Corleone would reply, “Not everyone. Just my enemies. And by enemies I mean Muslims and Jews.”

But my problem in Connecticut is that the race is exciting, but it could be more exciting. Ned Lamont is a rich guy who is anti-war. Good enough for me to root for him over Joe, but why couldn’t Mel Gibson have been a Greenwich resident and run for Senate. That would be awesome. Rather than blame the war on Bush, Mel would probably blame Joe for it. At which point Joe would give up saying “RIGGS, I’m getting too old for this sh-t.”

But I really don’t care about Connecticut. I care about the Nation and Al Gore needs to run for president in 2008. He is an experienced political animal, but far enough removed that he has been reminded of what he really cares about. And he won’t be burdened by Joe-Mentum.