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And I am officially a sell out

So Friday was Good Friday and I was excited for Easter. On my way to dinner with my girlfriend, who is white with blonde hair and blue eyes, we passed two black women who gave me what would be called an “approving look-over,” followed by a disapproving look of my girlfriend, followed by the “OJ, Tiger and now this fool?” look. I then began to smile because just like budding flowers and chirping birds, when more people start recognizing my half-blackness you know spring and sunshine are in the air. It also guarantees that your girlfriend will try to pick a fight through scowls and “hating your jokes” for a few minutes.

The rest of the night was spent trying to convince my girlfriend why Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring is awesome. Unsuccessful.

Saturday we went to Inherit the Wind with Christopher Plummer and Brian Dennehy. Excellent play, but what made it more awesome was the fact that Steven Colbert was sitting six rows directly in front of me. I know what you’re thinking and no, he hadn’t heard of me. It was just awkward watching my girlfriend sit on his lap for the second act of the play.

Sh-t falling from the sky

Today when I was walking back from my lunchtime stroll (I know, I am about 25 years too young to stroll at lunchtime) a funny thing happened that requires a short re-telling.

I was walking towards Sheridan Avenue on 158th Street when a very full and very used diaper came falling from the sky and landed about 5 feet behind me.

Now I am a glass half full kind of guy so I was thrilled to see that a baby was not in the diaper. But I had to wonder if someone was throwing it at me or just normally throws sh-t filled diapers out of their windows.

The best part was the woman walking about 20 feet behind me said (interrupting her own cell phone conversation), “What the fu-k is you doing throwing shi–y diapers out your fu–in’ window? That’s why motherfu–ers think this ain’t sh-t!” (back to cell phone conversation) Fu-k that ni-ga, I would straight up fu-k that nig-a up!” Examining her words carefully you will see the definition of irony.

It’s good to know that in this city where real estate is getting more and more expensive, there will always be an area that I will be able to afford. “This place is a bit of a fixer upper, but it’s close to the subway, you have high ceilings and you’ll be near work. The only thing is sometimes you have to watch out for flying human feces and the knife wielding women who hate them.”

I’ll take it.

“Who the f–k is John?”

So yesterday my girlfriend surprised me with a couples massage at a trendy little spa in Manhattan. After 8 am Mass listening to the Passion of Christ (Palm Sunday) it was good to de-stress.

So we get the spa and the first thing the woman at the desk says is, “OK, so this is a couples’ massage for Lisa and John.”

Who?

Now I have a game I like to play with my girlfriend. It’s called, how can I embarrass her? She claims to not get embarrassed easily, but I learned on a trip to Puerto Rico that there is one way to do so. When someone would ask us if we were married I would tell them, “Well, I am, but she’s not.” Because resorts and spas are often places where wealthy shady people go the staff would adopt this, “Hey whatever you do with your life is cool” attitude, which would embarrass my girlfriend when she would protest that I was joking.

So back to the spa. I pretended to flip out a little bit, but then reassured them that I was joking.

So we go to the changing rooms where I get down to my boxer briefs and have to put on a robe and a pair of Crocs. For those of you that don’t know what crocs are – they are these bright colored rubber shoes that look like strainers. The staff member brought out a pair of 14s for me so I thanked her for finding my size, but asked if they came in my sexual orientation. The fact that I have seen many women and some men wearing these things around the city reminds me of the Emperor’s New Clothes. If something is said to be cool or hip or fashionable, even for a day, someone will wear them no matter how dumb they look.

So then our masseuses arrived. Fortunately my girlfriend requested a female for me because I would not have wanted the awkward exchange of “Hey, not that I mind another man working my body out in a strictly professional manner, but I would kind of prefer a woman.”

My girlfriend had a man and I quickly made sure he was gay (he was wearing crocs), but I was not 100% positive.

So the massage began and it felt good, but hearing the oils being rubbed vigorously into my girlfriend’s body in the bed next to me made me want to look up and say, “You having fun over there Alex (that was his name).”

So then there was the turn over, which is usually the point where the masseuse says, “I will give you a minute, because they don’t want a Derek Zoolander experience on the massage table.” But interestingly enough any stimulating feelings that arise from a good massage are nullified by the sound of “Alex” smacking, flipping and rubbing it down (Oh no! – Bell Biv Devoe) on your girlfriend on the next table. So I flipped over without hesitation.

All in all, a very good experience. Except for the crocs.

And in other news, a 2 time MLB All Star is convicted of attempted murder

I am not a media conspiracy theorist, but I saw two stories given, at best, equal treatment in the sports pages of several newspapers that annoyed me a little bit.

In one story, Michael Ray Richardson, a former NBA 4-time all star suspended from the league for numerous drug policy violations (like using them), who is now languishing as a coach in the NBA’s equivalent of the minor leagues (coaching the Albany Patroons)said the following:

“I’ve got big-time lawyers,” Richardson said, according to the Times Union. “I’ve got big-time Jew lawyers.”

When told by the reporters that the comment could be offensive to people because it plays to the stereotype that Jews are crafty and shrewd, he responded with, “Are you kidding me? They are. They’ve got the best security system in the world. Have you ever been to an airport in Tel Aviv? They’re real crafty. Listen, they are hated all over the world, so they’ve got to be crafty.”

And he continued, “They got a lot of power in this world, you know what I mean?” he said. “Which I think is great. I don’t think there’s nothing wrong with it. If you look in most professional sports, they’re run by Jewish people. If you look at a lot of most successful corporations and stuff, more businesses, they’re run by Jewish. It’s not a knock, but they are some crafty people.”

In other sports news, a two-time MLB All Star and one time World Series winner, Ugueth Urbina was convicted of attempted murder in Venezuela and sentenced to 14 years in prison.

Let me first say that the comments by Richardson are ignorant, but still do not even reach the level of Tim Hardaway’s ode to prejudice concerning the John Amechi coming out story of last month. I thought the “Jew lawyer” comment was inappropriate, the use of crafty is somewhere on the Joe Biden-Barack Obama description level of stupidity and saying that Jews are hated all over the world I am sure would get agreement from many Jews. And then there’s the source, an ex-junkie, ex-NBA player. What is next: Today in New York the Knicks ball boy told the following joke: “What is the goal of Jewish football? To get the quarterback.” The League has suspended the ball boy indefinitely.

No one would really care. And I’m still not sure we can look to former drug addicts and 1970s NBA players for politically correct and insightful comments.

That said, anti-Semitism is real and bad, but I don’t think it required the coverage it was given, most significantly in the NY Daily News, concerning Richardson. Especially in light that its coverage, at least in that publication, dwarfed the coverage of a current baseball player (at the time of his arrest) and two time all star who was convicted of attempted murder. I was a little more interested in that.

Which makes me think, ‘How young is too young for a tramp stamp?”

Well, went for a little trip during lunch to enjoy the sunny and beautiful weather today. I figured I wouldn’t have anything to write about until after tonight’s performance at Caroline’s tonight, but then the MTA started the ball rolling, as it has so many times for me.

On my way downtown on the 4 train, the MTA announced that due to a building collapse on 116th street the 4 train would not run downtown. So I had to switch to the 2 train to get downtown. All of a sudden the beautiful weather started to feel a lot hotter. Especially when several hundred people were trying to cram onto the 2 train.

While aboard the 2 train I started to get a strange odor that can only be described as collective human filth. I happened to be standing near an interesting group: an angry black man who appeared to have a seizure every time someone bumped into him, despite the crowd, a young twenty something student who apparently has not learned one of my five rules of riding the subway – if the subway is packed and so is your backpack, take the f–king backpack off so you don’t hit people with your bag, three Asian tourists who were moving around the crowded train like they were searching out real estate prospects, and a young Latina woman listening to music so loud in her Ipod that I am now having hearing difficulties.

So naturally I got off the train feeling like a bi-racial John Rocker, but at least I could breathe easier. I had a brief lunch and then got back on the train going north.

On the train going back from my lunch I was peacefully trying to read Ghost Wars (note to blog reader – if you are a Racial Chameleon and currently look quasi-Egyptian, a book about Afghanistan and Bin Laden will induce curiosity on the subway), when three young men got on and began having a loud conversation, distracting enough in volume, but even more distracting was the amount of times they dropped the word nig-a. It was so absurd that I thought the first one to say it 200 times won a prize.

So as I walked from the subway I was relieved to be done with NWA, but then saw a disturbing sight – a 12 year old with a tramp stamp (i.e. a lower back tattoo – something I was not a big fan of until recently). And it was a relatively ornate one at that. You know, one that said “I’m easy, but don’t think that means all your friends can have some too.” This was the breaking point for me. What the fu-k is wrong with people? I had a few questions for this girl so here they are (since she no doubt reads my blog):

1) Are you 12 or younger? She appeared 12, but, if she drinks the same water as many Bronx girls and Greg Oden of Ohio State, she may in fact be even younger.

2) Where are you parents? I mean, when high school lets out don’t they have enough time to make sure you don’t go from 6th grade to the tattoo parlor?

3) What kind of example are you setting for your kids?

Ahhhhh, springtime in the Bronx. Sunshine, Yankees baseball and the cacophony of blaring car horns, catcalls almost criminal in nature, and the word nig-a fills the air.

Brackets, Comedy and Sanjaya

All of my Elite 8 teams are alive (in one pool I did). I am also alive in the Sweet Sixteen of March Madness at Caroline’s on Broadway. So apparently I have more success in basketball related events than I did in actually playing basketball.

In a sad piece of news, Amherst College, as comedian Danny Rouhier put it, “The group of students that decided they wanted to break away from Wiliams and for their own purple school,” has won the D-III national Title in Basketball. I am hoping that to balance all of that negative energy coming from Amherst, Massachusetts, the universe sees fit to grant a victory in a comedy competition to a Williams graduate.

And in other competition news I am pleased to see that Sanjaya is still surviving American Idol. This guy looks to me like Michael Jackson if he had become a pedophile in his teens instead of his forties. And Sanjaya’s sister had some breast work done, or so it appeared from the shot of her on TV. That makes me think is someone paying Sanjaya’s family compensation for the embarrassment he is causing them?

Clearly I have little of value to share with you today.

Firemen fighting firemen instead of fires.

For starters I got comped a dessert at a BBQ restaurant on Friday. It was good because I could not eat meat on Friday (Lent) and I needed some extra calories on top of my garden salad. Why did I get comped? Because the manager on duty recognized me from comedy and wanted to hook me up. So let March 16th go down as the date I got my first comedy/celebrity perk. Thanks Virgil’s.

So on Saturday I geared up for an afternoon/evening of hoops and drinking. I first watched hoops at a fondue restaurant because that was the only place my friends could find that wasn’t sexual assault room only (beyond standing room and dry humping room only). I then went to a bar in the west 40s to meet my girlfriend who had been drinking with friends since noon (I met her with friends around 8 pm).

Now St. Patrick’s Day is one of those holidays that used to have a component dedicated to Irish history. Now its primary function seems to be for the FDNY to starts fights with each other and slobber on women.

My highlights began with seeing two firefighters start a fight and then watching people break it up and get into a fight over breaking it up and which point two more people began scrapping. NY’s Most Pugnacious.

Furthermore, two sets of women asked me to take photos with them. I thought maybe they had heard of my comedy as well, but it turned out that they were drunk and 6’7″ is the official height of circus freak when you’re drunk on St. Patty’s Day.

Then there’s the woman part. Meeting your girlfriend at a Saint Patrick’s Day party if she gets there first is sort of like going to meet your girlfriend at the strip club she dances at while still on the pole. The way these firemen and associates looked at me you’d think I was either a five alarm blaze or a college level textbook. They looked angry and confused. They tried the excuses on her like, “If your boyfriend cared about you he would be here with you.” Fortunately I am not dating an insecure college freshman so I guess the FDNY will have to work on their game for next year.

The kiss of death in comedy?

The last week has been a good one for me in terms of opportunity. I got an audition in Columbus, Ohio for national feature work and last night I had a show at Caroline’s with Eddie Brill (Letterman booker) hosting.

March 6 – Columbus Funny Bone

I arrived in C-Bus and went right to the Easton Mall, a mall that I am very familiar with. It is a classic American Mall. 500 stores, 800 places to eat tasty, fatty food (I enjoyed a hearty meal at the Cheesecake Factory) and 1000 15 year old girls dressed like music video whores. I had time to kill so I went to see a movie at the Easton AMC 30 plex. 30 theaters. If you have ever wondered, “Why would a theater need to play Norbit every 15 minutes?” Then your answer is, “So a lonely comedian can kill time before doing a set at a comedy club.”

Eventually I went to the show where I was slated for a 20 minute set. I went up first and did well. But I did not kill. My lack of experience in doing sets longer than 6-10 minutes, (Thanks NY Comedy Clubs!) and the fact that I was fu-king tired led to that result. The booker told me that I had really good material and was likeable on stage, but that I was missing an “it factor.” The sad thing was that based on my set I agreed. Oh well, see you next year Columbus.

March 13, 2007 Caroline’s on Broadway

So last night I had a set at Caroline’s. The show was hosted by Edie Brill, who books Letterman so I was eager to perform. I have done several sets at Caroline’s and have always gotten 10 minutes. So I prepped a tight 10 minute set. when I looked at the board I noticed that I was only getting 8 minutes. All of a sudden a Smurf with a halo appeared on my right shoulder and a red Smurf with a trident appeared on left shoulder:

Angel Smurf – It’s ok J-L, just cut two minutes and have a great set

Evil Smurf – FUUUUUUUU-K.

POOF!!!!

So I cut my bit about a hypothetical hook up with a racist girl on Spring Break and said – “perfect.”

Then I went on stage and got lit at 5 minutes, meaning I was only getting a 6 minute set. I wrapped it up at a tight 6 and was told by Eddie Brill that I had “really good material, but I rushed through my material a little too much.” I was actually excited about the compliment, but realized that once again there seemed to be something missing.

I have been told a lot that I was really good and oh so close, but never in comedy.

But I must admit I was a little peeved at Caroline’s (what I just said is the comedic equivalent of telling Michael Corleone to go fu-k himself). Cutting my time by 25-40% for 15-20 of my paying friends, not to mention the $40 I am paying for a tape is not that cool. It is like that old prison saying (that I just made up now): It’s ok if you fu-k me, but just protect me if someone else tries to fu-k me. Well, last night it felt like Caroline’s was running a prison train on me.

That said, I will be at Caroline’s next Tuesday for Round 2 of March Comedy Madness. I guess like Brooks in Shawshank I am not sure how to operate outside of that environment.

The #1 Blog of the 1st Year: The State of Education (from 9/22/06)

I am not sure where to start on this one, so I will go chronologically.

My uncle (public high school teacher in Bronx) told me a hilarious story from last week. And by hilarious I mean makes me want to punch a wall really hard.

He is in the middle of a lecture (approx 15 minutes into class) when a young man walks in late, looks at the attendance sheet, sees himself marked absent and asks: “Why you mark me absent nigga?” There are several problems with this:

1) He didn’t raise his hand.

2) The student is Latino and my uncle is white. Neither of these people should be using the N-word as a colloquialism.

3) You were 15 minutes late you dumb degenerate, that’s why.

4) “Why you mark me absent” is not correct grammar.

So my uncle, through experience, knows better than to “challenge” a student in front of the class, brings him outside and tells him that language is not acceptable and that he can’t interrupt a class like that. The response… poetry:

“Fu-k you – suck my di-k.” And then he walked away.

Now I am sure that at my current job I will run into this young man eventually or one of his soon-to-be-conceived gifts from Heaven, but I must say I am glad I am not his teacher. If I were, I would probably still be at my location of current employment, but probably with my hands behind my back in cuffs.

But I am sure his failings as a human being are the failings of the system and the teachers. Or maybe he didn’t get his latte at Starbucks that morning and he felt groggy. The happy ending to the story is that after my uncle filed a report with the school administration as to the student’s conduct, they walked the student back in and told my uncle that he cannot have his students walking the halls. For shame Uncle! Perhaps when this young man assaults one of his teachers they can blame the teacher’s face for hurting the student’s hand.

But in case you are worried about the present state of high school, the NY Daily News has an uplifting story today about the future minds of my home county and city.

61% of 4th graders in NYC passed the standardized reading and writing exam, prompting the Bush administration to change their education program to “Only 2/5 children left behind.” And they plummet as the children get older when in 8th grade the passing rate is just under 40% for that level. Remarkably, these are improvements since 2002.

Now I understand that in NYC 8th grade is an important time and 8th graders are probably busy just learning how to get high and breast feed, but enough is enough.

The worst stat was that at the Morrisania 4th grade (the neighborhood just north of where I work) 4.8% passed. That is not a misprint. That means for every 40 4th graders at that school, 2 pass. That means their 4th grade valedictorian could, in theory, have a D+ average. My 21 month old nephew appears to be at the same reading level as a lot of these kids. But rest assured I am not just a complainer. I have solutions:

1) Criminalize giving Game Boys and video games to children who cannot read. The bottle has been replaced by the sippy cup. But it has also been replaced by the Game Boy. I have seen more than a few little Einsteins playing Game Boys on buses and trains, even though Mommy needs to turn it on for them and explain the instructions. Rule of thumb – if you cannot read the booklet or the names of the characters in the game – you are too young. Even video game manufacturers, who are basically intellectual drug dealers, put an 8 year old minimum age on systems. In light of these new stats, perhaps it should be 15.

2) God needs to find something besides conception of human life to make the easiest thing for a human to do. Conception should rank with Calculus and Latin in difficulty. Not impossible, but you really need to focus and be committed to do it. Hell, make it as difficult as learning to read and we’d be better off. Right now conception seems to require the same effort as saying, “nice ass, can I holla at you?”

The problem is one of mathematics. Schools and ACS case workers will continue to have exceedingly heavy numbers and these issues will multiply at an exponential rate, while those willing or able to help will increase at a linear rate.

Perhaps it is like Chris Rock said, “We don’t need prayer in school; we need the Tossed Salad man in Schools.” Heck, if you are going to meet TS man at some point, better that it be to learn to read than to choose jelly or syrup.

Blog #2 of the first year: More Adventures on the 1 Train (from 4/16/06)

It was Easter Sunday and it seemed like a normal trip on the train down to the gym after Church. As the 4 avid readers of my blog may know from my March 27th posting (Inside Man…) crazy things can go down on the 1 train on the weekend and this Sunday was no exception.

I was sitting and reading when a Latino couple in their 30s got on the train and proceeded to have an extremely loud and annoying argument for approximately twenty minutes about how to use a metrocard and who had the metrocards, etc. People in my car definitely found it extremely annoying by a lot of eye rolling and sighing. But nothing can make a young Latino couple make up faster than a homophobic, racist white guy in army gear.

As the couple continues to fight in walks a man in his early 30s dressed in full army camoflouge, in case the train turned into a jungle, with dog tags and a backpack. I do not think he was a veteran of any war, unless it was the War on Drugs, which he definitely lost.

This was no big deal, but when an apparently harmless man in his 40s walked into the car, army fantasy camp guy turned into Bill Paxton from Aliens. What follows is a severely edited (this would be like playing Scarface on network tv) transcript of the train ride:

Army of None: STOP FOLLOWING ME

40 yr old: I am not following you.

Army: YES YOU ARE. YOU ARE AN F—ING FA—OT WITH AIDS AND YOU ARE ATTACKING ME WITH YOUR FINGER

40 yr old: Just let me pass.

(exit 40 yr old)

Latino Male (LM): What is your problem (no longer fighting with Latino woman)?

Army: MY PROBLEM IS THAT HE IS A F—ING F—OT WITH AIDS WHO ATACKED ME WITH HIS FINGER AND WANTED TO MAKE HIS SPEECH, SO I EXERCISED MY RIGHT AS AN AMERICAN TO LEAVE AND NOT BE ATTACKED BY A FA—-OT WITH AIDS.

Latina Woman (LW): You can only get AIDS through sexual transmission.

J-L inner monologue: (in that case can I have your used heroin needle please)

LM: Yeah and watch your language.

Army: Why don’t you shut up bitch? (rhetorical question) I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU ABOUT PROTECTING MY SELF FROM (guess what) A FA—T WITH AIDS.

LW: Do you have issues with your sexuality?

Army: No I do not, but I do have a problem with you explaining myself to you N–GG-R.

J-L inner monologue: Well this just got interesting… and what about that guy’s finger attacking you?

LW & LM: N-GG-R? What?? And you’re a piece of white, trailer park sh-t?

Army: That’s right I’m a white trash N-GGA – with an A.

J-L inner monologue: good distinction sir.

LW: Do you know the meaning of the word N-GG-R? it means ignorant and right now you look like the only N-GGa/er in this train.

J-L inner monologue: You make a good point LW, but niggardly actually means cheap, but I get your point.

LM: What if I was to get up and kick your ass?

J-L inner monologue: Good question. What Would Jesus Do (even though it is Easter I do not mean JC, I mean Jesus, LM’s cousin)?

Army: take your best shot (arms open)

LM: Call me something and we’ll see. call me a Sp-c or a N-gg-R or bitch.

Army: Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job yourself.

J-L inner monologue: that’s true, but you were even better Army.

Train announcer: next stop 66th street

J-L inner monologue: Damn – my stop.

LW: (yells at Army)

Army: Well that’s cause you’re a Sp-c N-GG-R Bitch!

J-L inner monologue: Hey now that is too far. Unless me and my Latina lady have a daughter I do not see any SNBs. But good effort at unbelievably super racist comments – not accurate but the whole train feels your anger.

And then I exited the train, yelling to the conductor that there is a problem in Car #3, but he did not seem to care.

If you go back to the Inside Man blog (3-27-06) you will see that this is not the first time someone has added a race to the slur N-GG-R bitch. My uncle was once called a WNB by a student, so with that I give my final grades to the performers.

Army: A for effort – and shock. I mean most people only think that kind of racism and homophobia exist in movies and the Ali G show. However, your overall grade is an F for being a total waste of a human being and army fatigues.

LM: Overall grade C-. He loses early for yelling at his woman about a metrocard, but gets some quality points late for stepping to Army. However, when called to take his best shot he did not.

LW: A-. If she had been hotter she would have gotten an A+, but she made some valid points and unlike LM did not start a fight over a metrocard.

Subway Conductor: D- for not paying attention to me, but could be as high as an A if he called the police – who knows?

Guy with AIDS; Although he allegedly already has 4 letters I will give him another A, because he took a very harsh and unjustified attack quietly and without causing a scene. Of course if he was lying about having AIDS I guess it is much better for him, but he would get an F for lying to the riders of the 1 train.

All I can say is thank God it was Easter and people were acting civilized. I will be taking the 1 train on Saturday and Sunday (22nd and 23rd) if anyone wats to accompany me for the next adventure.

The Height of Comedy – 6 days and counting.