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As President-Elect Donald Trump puts together his cabinet of the best, tremendous people who will make America Great Again or an apocalyptic wasteland it is clear that his administration will be hawkish on aggressive military action, scientifically ignorant to the point of criminal negligence and sympathetic to the concerns of the most bitter white people (isn’t that an even nicer way to refer to the Alt-Right?!).  He has backtracked on most of his major rallying cries (build the wall, lock her up, drain the swamp and “believe me” have all proven to be rhetoric to get people to foam at the mouth), but will come through on Koch Brother-Paul Ryan-Mike Pence wet dreams (a creationist as Secretary of Education, stridently pro-life appointments to the Supreme Court, destruction of the environment, cutting taxes for the wealthy), so America has basically gotten a less experienced, less honest and less competent version of the average red state Republican in Donald Trump.  But it is important to remember that the Projector-in-Chief-Elect is so much better than Hillary Clinton.  After all she had fake scandals, real experience and a vagina – 3 STRIKES AND YOU’RE OUT!  So the question is, what will the Democrats do to prepare for 2020 when President Pence is up for re-election (I am predicting that within 3 weeks of the Democrats taking over the Senate in 2018 President Trump will resign because it will be the first chance he has to blame his lack of preparedness and competency on the Democrats since he will have the full government/limited room for excuses for the first 2 years)?  Will they take to heart the lessons of 2016 (don’t nominate someone with experience, listen to the uninformed “economic” concerns of racists and bigots, adhere to a pie-in-the-sky progressive agenda) or will they make the mistake of 2016 and nominate an incredibly smart. capable and experienced person? As a political junkie and half-black immigrant, half blue collar Irish Catholic I think I have the suggestions that can give the Democrats the widest possible coalition to win in 2020:

Khloe Kardashian

As Van Jones put it, a lot of this election was about a “whitelash.” After being led by a “You Think You Better N Me?!” black man, large swaths of the country wanted a white back in the White House.  I mean, they wanted economic security back… so they voted for a billionaire who lies and rips off workers and promises jobs and industries that cannot and will not come back, which would be known to anyone who reads once in a while.  But if the goal is to take down the legacy of a black man (President Obama) and institute policies that will hurt other black people then the best way for the Democrats to win over Trump voters is to nominate Khloe Kardashian.  No group of women has destroyed more black men than the Kardashians and the new star in the family on this front is Khloe (look at the MVP season James Harden is having since breaking up with her).  Rumor has it that Khloe’s vagina is called “The 1994 Crime Bill” because of its negative impact on black men.  She also comes with a lot of money and a big social media presence so she is basically Trump with booty.  But she is a woman who dates men of color so progressives should also find her enticing.

Suge Knight

Shady business dealings.  Mogul. Strong and authoritative leadership. Basically if you want a bigger and blacker version of Trump Suge Knight is your candidate.  And imagine President Trump or Pence trying to debate him or tweet at him with insults.

Trump’s Nanny(ies)

One of the biggest factors that allowed voters to support a racist, misogynistic, low information, poor temperament, constantly projecting, arrogant, delusional alleged billionaire was the fact that his children appeared to be competent and well-behaved.  Well if the measure of a presidential candidate is how well they raise children, then the Democrats should nominate the wet nurse/au pair of Trump’s kids as the full ticket in 2020. Of course, need to make sure Trump didn’t pull an Arnold Schwarzenegger or a Jude Law because it would damage the chances of the Democrats winning (the adultery would have no impact on Trump’s re-election chances).

Mixed Race Trans Zygote

With Bernie supporters claiming that he would have destroyed Trump in the election (because Trump supporters seem to be very open to socialists and Jews), while skipping over the fact that maybe drawing some angry, bigoted support is not the noblest of justifications for rejecting a candidate that beat him soundly in the primary, Democrats should still pay attention to their progressive wing. That is why I suggest a Constitutional Amendment making the age lower for nominees.  Then the Democrats should nominate a mixed race, transgendered zygote. Benefits – diversity, progressive, not a troublesome record of experience and GOP fabrications following it.  However, so as not to alienate Bernie folks in the rust belt, the candidate should just be known as “Working Class, Unidentifiable Individual.”

Ivanka Trump

If the brand of Trump emerged with Donald then Ivanka is the ultimate fulfillment of that brand. She speaks with the composure of a beauty pageant contestant and the tone of a phone sex operator. She is beautiful and some of it is actually genetic (not the nose or breasts and her eyes also look like they have been modified, and I am not sure what her natural hair color is) and she doesn’t say hateful things (she just stands by and laughs it off as Dad being Dad).  In other words, to fight fire with fire it may be time to nominate one Trump who may be even more inauthentic than the President-Elect to defeat him.  She is the anti-Hillary – hot, inexperienced, young and possibly a cyborg.  And unlike other women he has run against, we already know that Donald thinks very highly of Ivanka’s body.

Get J-L’s new stand up albums KEEP MY ENEMIES CLOSER &  ISRAELI TORTOISE on iTunes, Amazon & Google.

It has been several years since I attended any comedy festival and 10 years since I made a good, but failed run at the Boston Comedy Festival.  But in the “hope springs eternal” mindset that rests beneath numerous layers of “fu*k this sh*t” I entered the Boston Comedy Festival again this year. My mindset was fairly practical in entering. The prize for the winner was $10,000.  With 96 competitors I figured odds were in my favor (imagine buying a $600 lottery ticket – train and hotel fare – but your odds of winning $10,000 was 1 in 96 – but really much better than that based on experience) so I entered.  Also, a much less important factor I figured was with most comics of my comedy generation either finding success or permanent obscurity it was time for me to meet the next group of comedians who might pass me by in the next five years. Either way I figured there were enough reasons to give it a shot.

So after spending several hundred dollars I went to my preliminary round Thursday night and had a really good set. And then at the end of the show when the comedians going on to the semi finals were announced I figured I was definitely in the top 5. And I may have been right, but I was not in the top 3, which was the number of comics advancing.  And just like that I felt like Scatman Crothers from the Shining. I had gotten on my Snowcat (Amtrak) and traveled many miles to show up to save the day, only to have a comedy contest ax buried in my chest.  But like many things in comedy, I am calloused at this point to where I can just sort of shrug it off in a few minutes (by contrast losing in the semi finals in 2006 took me… oh wait I am still not over that robbery).  Silver lining 2 of the 3 comics that made the semis from my prelim also made the finals, meaning that we had a disproportionate number of finalists.  The system really is rigged!

I spent the next day at the movie theater (movies and movie snacks are my alcohol) and saw Arrival (thoughtful and solid) and Magical Harry Potter Beast Creatures Movie (decent escapism, but not sure I need it to be a five movie franchise, which is what they have planned). And then, thanks to my friend comedian Jay Nog I got a spot on his Paid or Pain show as part of the festival.  The show is unique, but simple: comedians perform and the audience decides if they get paid or pain (delivered by a dominatrix – on this show a latex clad busty woman – my favorite thing on the show, other than my own humor, was seeing the comedians on the lineup talk to her in the green room like she didn’t look like a porn star – my conversation with her would have been “Did you order a pizza? Something wrong with your cable? Plumbing? Are we gonna fu*k or what??”). I was one of the two judges on the show offering witty criticism and commentary on the show and the performers.  Other than the aforementioned dominatrix I think it would be safe to say my Trump impression stole the show.  I spent the last 20 minutes speaking as Trump only, including what Trump would want from a dominatrix (“I would want Ivanka in the room because she is very hot and I would want the dominatrix to be dehydrated so when she peed on me it was a strong Trump gold color”).  I think the show will air on Sirius XM at some point – I will tweet/share the details if I get them.

After the show I had a couple of comedians and audience members tell me that I should audition for SNL. It was a nice compliment and I will get on that as soon as I find a way to make it to the semi finals of a comedy contest.

Get J-L’s new stand up albums KEEP MY ENEMIES CLOSER &  ISRAELI TORTOISE on iTunes, Amazon & Google.

This week I have been in Cleveland, my home away from where John D. Rockefeller started his empire, where Drew Carey got  fat and where I have appeared more than any other city outside of NYC and LA.  Basically I have been like Andrew Miller for this city, but over the last 7 years – 6’7″, immensely talented, unwanted by NY and delivering amazing performances.  This week has been no different and the city has been in need of healing (but apparently not in need of comedy albums as my 1.0 albums sold per show rate demonstrates) since it was the only Democratic stronghold in the city on Election Night.  I have told audiences that their state looked like a murdered Smurf because there was this tiny blue spot in the top of the state and blood red pouring out of it to the entire state.  So just like a bases loaded jam in the playoffs for Miller I arrived in Cleveland (under my urban room moniker of “Vanilla Coke”) to deliver some comedic healing… to the audience members that were not talking or texting or coming in late).  Here ya go:

Thursday – Southwest Mogul

I had a free flight to Cleveland on Southwest Airlines (I actually have the equivalent of about 6 free flights because of my Southwest credit card – let me tell you nothing gets women ready to get it on more than when at a bar or a club you pull out your Southwest Black Visa Card – yes girl, ever fly 5th class before?), but the catch was I had to fly out of BWI. Well I didn’t have to, but rather than fly from NYC to Chicago and then back to Cleveland I took Amtrak to BWI… at 4:40 am.  I arrived at BWI and went to the diner in Terminal A.  And they have (Trump voice) tremendous pancakes and hot chocolate (end Trump voice) for any travelers out there.  I then hopped on my flight and had leg room for days. See below:

When I arrived in Cleveland I snapped a quick pic with Lebron James who met me at the airport to discuss some potential business ventures.  I then made my way to the comedy condo (usually words that are as awkward to a comedian as “Special Event: Jake the Snake Roberts”) but the Cleveland Improv condo is quite nice.  I then killed time and had a great set that night.  And to prove it I sold 1 CD, but got more compliments and eye contact than I have ever received in my 7 years of performing at the Cleveland Improv.

Friday – No Movie so Why Not Re-Write and Record a Bob Dylan song for 6 hours?!

Normally on Fridays I check out a movie and do a review and then emotionally wrestle for 5 hours on whether or not to go to the gym, but with no movie nearby (Black People Christmas, or whatever it is called was under 50% on Rotten Tomatoes so I couldn’t see it.  I was suspicious mainly because it was the first happy, mostly black movie that did not use Earth Wind and Fire’s September in the preview – I will not abide that disrespect to a proud black cinematic tradition.  So instead I decided that I should spend my day re-writing and recording a new rendition of Bob Dylan’s Hurricane for The Dan Lebatard Show on ESPN radio.  If you are a fan of the show it is strong work (even though my vocals are booty). I re-wrote it before lunch, went to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame at lunch to see their new exhibit on music, power and freedom (really good and inadvertently timely) and then went back to the condo to record the song.  Hopefully it gets played and appreciated on the show Monday morning (writing this Sunday afternoon in a Starbucks):

That night I had some good sets and sold a whopping 4 albums so it was difficult to sleep that knowing that Saturday would be foot long sub at Subway instead of 6 inches due to my new wealth.  Here is a clip where I summarize the Republican Party in three awkward minutes:

Saturday – You Won’t Have J-L’s Merchandise Table To Kick Around Anymore!

The heading says it all. Had good shows, but after I sold zero on the first (helped in part by a group of 4 people who set up a human wall in front of my merch table – the pic below is of a woman doing the same thing on Friday night – but at least no one threw their coat on top of my CDs like in Albany earlier this year). So after selling zero on the first show I crushed the second show and then stormed out saying “You won’t have my merch table to kick around anymore!” and went back to the condo.  I then watched Dave Chappelle host SNL and give the best monologue in the show’s history in an episode every bit as good as Tom Hanks’s episode this year, which for me was the best episode of the show in years.

On an Amazon Prime movie side note – earlier in the day I watched Woody Allen’s Bananas for the first time – wow – what a brilliant comedy that still holds up and is even prescient about some things (available for free with prime until November 30). I then watched (tried to) the very overrated Green Room – made it 65 minutes in and was bored. (Trump tweet voice) Sad! (End Trump tweet voice)

Sunday – Mass and TV in Starbucks

Walked to Mass on Sunday morning (huge, beautiful St John The Evangelist – oddly enough the name of my Church in Manhattan – I guess they franchised out) and couldn’t help feeling unholy thoughts as I looked at all those white, Catholic, Ohio voters (I know how half of my people tend to lean), but then I saw a girl texting during Mass and officially felt like a grumpy, old man.  But I do like being in a full Church and the fact that people still shake hands in Church in the Midwest instead of the Purell wave that you get in NYC.  I then watched Pitch and The Exorcist on my computer (seriously good shows on Fox this Fall – Mark Paul Gosselaar as a grizzled veteran catcher on Pitch is particularly good) and wrote a new version of My Prerogative called My Presidency for Trump (a joke that did so so was about how Trump is basically Scarface for white racists – expect his poster in redneck thug trailer parks in 15 years – and a political version of what Bobby Brown did when he left New Edition). I only mention this because I am starting to feel like comedy is more a compulsion, rather than a profession or even a hobby. Oh well, 500-5000 YouTube viewers will be thrilled when it goes up at some point and that is enough for me!

So one more show tonight and then my usual 5:50 am Amtrak back to NYC on Monday. You are welcome Cleveland.

Get J-L’s new stand up albums KEEP MY ENEMIES CLOSER &  ISRAELI TORTOISE on iTunes, Amazon & Google.

On an explosive, leaked video recorded just hours before Election Day Donald Trump can be seen and heard refusing to concede election results if he loses, calling on his supporters to protect their vote with the 2nd Amendment in a speech rehearsal obtained by JLC News.  Trump claims that the Democratic Party is full of “riggers” that are good at basketball, clearly a play on words implying a racial slur as well as claiming rapists in Texas and Florida have voted for Clinton.  And in blunt language, even for Trump, the GOP nominee refers to Hillary Clinton as a bitch. This bodes very poorly for tranquility on Election Night. For the full video see below:

This weekend (well Thursday-Monday morning) was spent in Syracuse, NY – the city that the Sun forgot.  I was featuring at the Syracuse Funny Bone, located in the Destiny Mall – a mall so large that they have an entire store dedicated to Crocs, or as I call it, a recruiting tool for ISIS.  The comedy week really began last Wednesday night when I played Batman in the Roast of Batman at Broadway Comedy Club. I had a good performance and tried to emulate the Christian Bale Batman voice (video forthcoming), but in terms of attire I had to wear a tight Batman shirt and a hot rubber mask (and then went right to a Batman themed Eyes Wide Shut orgy) because the XXL Batman costume basically fit like Freddie Mercury in the pants and like Chris Farley wearing David Spade’s jacket in Tommy Boy up top.  But the jokes went well and then I went to sleep for an early trip to Syracuse the next morning. So without further adieu here is the recap of the trip:

Thursday – Amtrak Backtrack

As I write this from my return Amtrak Monday morning I am happy to report that we are on schedule.  The same could not be said for Thursday morning’s trip to Syracuse.  I have written a lot over the years of my affinity for, and frustrations with, rail travel in this country.  As part of the stimulus plan when Obama took office many dollars were earmarked for infrastructure improvements and additions to state and federal rail service.  Much of it was scrapped, especially in states like Florida and Ohio with Republican governors.  I have thought for many years that there should be a massive – like hundreds of billions – investment in making our nationwide rail service comparable to Europe and Asia.  Improvement to our infrastructure, thousands upon thousands of jobs, upgrading our transportation system and giving something for people to use – feels like a win all around, which is why I think various lobbies, probably aviation at the top of the list, have worked hard to kill this (in addition to the GOP wanting to privatize rail).  So instead what we are left with is a 5.5 hour trip to Syracuse that takes 7 hours because Amtrak, once out of the DC-Boston corridor (where the money and power reside) Amtrak does not own the tracks so freight always gets priority – on my last 5 long range trips (5+ hours) the average arrival has been just a few minutes short of 2 hours late.  I am no populist and am a happy Hillary voter, but nothing more richly symbolizes America than business being given priority 100% of the time over people on the rails of America.  When I finally arrived in Syracuse (after we had to ride 30 minutes past the station because of a disabled train at the station so we could switch tracks) the sky looked like the beginning of the Battle of Helms Deep in The Two Towers, so very welcoming.

Thursday’s show was solid. Nothing big to report, but worth noting is that two stories below the club in the mall was a Cheesecake Factory. So I had a slice of the Hazelnut Cheesecake while the headliner was on (it’s their new flavor and it may be the best they’ve ever done).  And just to show you the admiration and respect the Mall has for the money printing machine that is the Cheesecake Factory check out the side of the Mall as they are every bit as powerful as Saxs Fifth Avenue and Macy’s (and only Cheesecake Factory appeared to have reserved parking for their management in the Mall parking area.

Friday – Great Movie, Great Shows, Horrific Aftermath

On Friday I went to see Deepwater Horizon, the Peter Berg directed movie starring Mark Wahlberg about the Exxon Valdez spill (kidding for those of you who are bad with jokes).  I have made a lot of fun at the expense of Wahlberg and Berg (sounds more like a law firm) because they have been on some sort of draped-in-the-flag mutual masturbation series of films recently (starting with Lone Survivor, which was OK and then next month’s Patriot’s Day about the Boston bombing these guys are making short, white American men feel even better than Donald Trump).  The preview for Patriot’s Day is literally like a remix of the Deepwater trailer – white guy kisses pretty wife while guitars strum, then goes to work trying to make the world a better place – then bad sounds and ominous shots – and then title screen.  I said on my podcast the next Wahlbergberg movie is probably going to be called Standing Blue – about a white cop who protests San Francisco 49er games because Colin Kaepernick won’t stand for the anthem.

Now, with all the jokes out of the way, I must give the Wahlbergberg devils their due – Deepwater Horizon was excellent.  Incredibly well executed (minus some of the given cheese in the first 30 minutes of the film), well acted (Gina Rodriguez was not quite Tom Hanks at the end of Captain Phillips (GOAT PTSD performance) but she was really good when given a chance to flex her chops and Wahlberg was solid, as was Kurt Russell), and quite powerful. Highly recommend.

As for the shows on Friday – I crushed obviously, but in my arrogance I slipped up. I am not a big cheese eater unless it is preceded by “grilled” or followed by “cake” but I opted for the quesadillas during the 1st show, then got cheesecake in between shows and then, in a moment of boredom, got the mozzarella sticks during show 2.  What happened next was nothing short of Deepwater Horizon meets Harry from Dumb and Dumber. I will spare the details, but I got back to my hotel room at 1230am and left my bathroom at 3:05 am.  In between dumping crude oil into the Syracuse sewage system I also vomited so hard I thought I burst a blood vessel in my right eye (just turned out to be bloodshot with cloudy vision for an hour).  If my stomach had been any worse Peter Berg could have directed a movie starring Mark Wahlberg about the plumber that would have had to come and fix my bathroom. Porcelain Knight coming to theaters 2018.

And here is me crushing in an extended bit about my dog Cookie.  Another clip of me doing Trump is getting a lot of hits on Facebook (my Trump impression is so powerful it turns conservative, upstate white voters into a Def Jam crowd)

Saturday – Crushing Sets, Crushing Emotions Over Poor Sales

Saturday I saw the movie Ouija, which was not very good (other than Lights Out – critics have been off bigly with this year’s horror offerings).  I also ate very little because my stomach felt like it had been through a war.  So there was nothing much of significance to report other than the fact that I crushed hard.  Several people told me my Trump bit/impression was the funniest thing they had ever heard. I agreed with them.  But in two shows I only sold 1 CD.  So I went back to the hotel bummed, but hopeful with one more show left in the week.  #LiveLoveLaugh  Here is a picture of Jake The Snake Roberts and I from the club. If you don’t follow me on Instagram, this is Jake doing his impression of me when I heard Jake The Snake Roberts was headlining comedy clubs:

Sunday – The Final Chapter

Sunday began with being woke(n) up by the high school band that occupied every room on my hotel floor except for my room and the headliner John Henson (of Talk Soup and Wipeout) and they were loud and annoying, but I had already gotten the 4.5 hours sleep I need to be an angry, lazy, bitter sloth of a comedian so I was good to go.  I went to see The Magnificent Seven and was joined by John, who either because he wanted an aisle seat as well or just wanted to assert his headliner status, sat one row above me in the theater.  The movie was not very good. I feel like Denzel, Chris Pratt and Antoine Fuqua were all better than that movie (though Pratt was annoying in his overly charming performance).  Then it was time for the final show.  I did very well and sold the most CDs (10) than any other show for the weekend. I felt so confident that I had a 3rd and final piece of cheesecake, which as of this typing has not done any damage.

All in all it was a great weekend working with John and Mr. Jackson (the emcee), as well as Rob, the chauffeur, door guy, former strip club bouncer who escorted John and I around for the weekend.  Looking forward to coming back in 2017! Now I get to see my dog Cookie, who is not thrilled about her Cookie Monster costume, but fu*k it – she looks cute in it. And if Wahlbergberg have taught us anything, it is heroes don’t always do the easy thing, but they do the right thing – coming in 2020 Mark Wahlberg as Cookie the Dog in Halloween Hero directed by Peter Berg.

Get J-L’s new stand up album ISRAELI TORTOISE on iTunes, Amazon & Google.

SNL had its season premiere this past Saturday to rave reviews, in particular the Alec Baldwin-Kate McKinnon Trump-Clinton debate sketch.  The show also provided a long overdue Mr. Robot sketch, considering cast member Pete Davidson is a taller doppelganger for Mr. Robot star Rami Malek.  However, one comedian in the far more anonymous part of the web has managed to combine a dead on Trump impression with a killer parody of Mr. Robot.  Comedian J-L Cauvin, who was sure to post thumbnails of his sketch before the SNL premiere (justifying his paranoia that they might finally do a Mr. Robot sketch) in case anyone believed him to be a copycat gives the world Mr Trump: a perfect representation of the conflict so many voters have between supporting Hillary Clinton vs. supporting Donald Trump.  Here is the sketch for your viewing and sharing pleasure:

In a week full of controversial statements, even by his standards, Donald Trump has made a desperate, but significant play for black votes by declaring Atlanta, FX’s new comedy starring Donald Glover, “the second best show ever made, after The Apprentice of course.”  This week, Donald Trump made headlines for acknowledging President Obama’s American citizenship, but without apology and by falsely claiming Hillary Clinton as the source of the birther movement.  When that caused a predictable backlash Trump went to his playbook of “say something worse to distract from earlier bad thing” by suggesting Hillary Clinton’s protective detail abandon their weapons.  Well Trump may have finally made his first real play for the African-American vote today when at noon he tweeted out “Atlanta on FX is great. Really great.  Probably best show since The Apprentice.”

Trump is a lover of polls, statistics and click bait and he gets all three with his support of Atlanta.  Atlanta has had strong ratings for FX, especially if you read titles of articles saying “Best Ratings for an FX comedy premiere since 2011” (which really means it is less successful than Wilfred, but that is not really the point). In a study of Black Twitter, Atlanta recently finished ahead of Barack Obama, Serena Williams and Beyoncé on things black people thought were important and excellent (a metric that combines quantity of shares of content with quantity of superlatives used in those shares). So whether it is genuine or pandering, Trump’s pivot to be pro-Atlanta is the only thing right now in black social media that may have the power to cover up his birther agenda, viewed as one of the low lights of disrespect shown to President Obama during his presidency.

“Hillary keeps hot sauce in her purse? Believe me, I keep Atlanta at the top of my DVR queue. Really great…” gushed Trump outside a white power rally this afternoon.

The response on Black Twitter to Trump’s love of Atlanta has been mixed, but one popular account, going by the name “@ThotsAndPrayers” said “Trump has done a lot of bad and said a lot worse, but he is right – Atlanta is (flame emoji).”

So it seems that it may be too little, too late, but the praise for this amazing show (it is at 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, so it is not just black social media that has noticed) as one of the greatest in television history by Mr. Trump is not falling on deaf ears.

Episode 4 of Atlanta‘s first season airs Tuesday.

Get J-L’s new stand up album ISRAELI TORTOISE on iTunes, Amazon & Google.

Yesterday I took a trip to Springfield, MA, home of the Basketball Hall of Fame (oddly enough one day before the ceremonies begin for Shaq, Allen Iverson and Yao Ming among others, so it ended up feeling almost like a private exhibit). It was a pleasant day trip and my girlfriend drove (I gave her 4 stars on Uber – too much complaining about the radio) so it was a rare trip where I was not going to make people laugh and the money I spent/lost would be intentional, instead of the risky Russian Roulette associated with the finances of road comedy work.  Rather than bore you with more of my brilliant comedic words I will bore you with some of the photos I took and provide witty captions (if you follow me on Instagram @jlcomedy – this may actually bore you since I spent most of my time at the HoF gawking and posting photos with humorous captions).  Before the photo album, the one fact that made me laugh hardest was that it took 21 years from the invention of basketball before they decide to use open baskets/nets so that someone did not have to climb a ladder to remove the ball from the basket. 21 years. Contrast that with the fact that it took 66 years from the first flight by the Wright Brothers (really solid, inspiring and quick read by David McCullough by the way) until Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. The point is we all progress at our own pace. Without further adieu here is my trip that was funny, but by choice, not employment obligation:

This weekend I was in Raleigh, North Carolina at Goodnight’s Comedy Club. I am writing this from the cafe car of my Amtrak train (the Silver Star, which originates in Miami, so other than licking a toilet seat in Brazil there are very few places I would expect to carry Zika more than this train) and trying to remember that the week was a strong one – worked with solid comics, saw two good movies, sold some CDs, indulged in some Chick Fil-A (in North Carolina, which I have dubbed a “bigotry Inception”) and was able to relax a little bit.  However, 93 Uber rides, a horrible hotel breakfast, one female heckler and her emasculated husband and an elderly obese woman blaming me for her fall on this train 30 minutes ago have forced me to temper my happiness about the trip.  So with that tease let’s get into the details of another road trip with America’s favorite Middle Man Road Recapper.

Thursday – Hotel, Motel… Best Western?

I woke up early on Thursday, said goodbye to my girlfriend and Cookie (my dog, I packed several “Complete Cookies” – vegan, protein cookies that my girlfriend calls “Bro Cookies” because they are sold at GNC) and headed for the Carolinian, the 7:05 am train that leaves NY Penn Station for North Carolina.  I managed to secure a seat by myself until Richmond, VA, which on a packed train is pretty great.  I read a little bit, wrote my next sketch (filming Friday and going up 10 days before the first presidential debate) and generally felt like a freedom rider in the 1960s (there  were 3 white people and a bi-racial giant in my car to go with 80 black people and 54 bare feet.  I played spirituals on my iPod to complete the ambiance.

When I arrived in Raleigh only an hour late (5:30pm) I got an Uber thinking I had hotwire.com’d the same hotel I had been in 2 years ago.  For those of you that don’t play travel Russian Roulette on Hotwire.com (or as I will call it after this trip THOTwire.com), you put in your location and the website gives you discounted rates for hotels within a distance range – but to get the discounted rates you don’t know the name or exact location of the hotel.  4 out of 5 times it is a great deal and very convenient.  However to get the $54/night rate (#ComedyMogul) I picked a hotel in a 0.2 miles-5.0 miles range from the club.  Well, this was the 5th time because the hotel was 4.7 miles from the club – so that would mean Uber back and forth every night.  But if you add up the rate of the hotel I stayed at last time (Days Inn – #ComedyMogul) I still saved about $19 when you subtract the Ubers from the increased nightly price so basically I gamed the system again, if you don’t factor in the mental cost of inconvenience.  Sadly their continental breakfast sucked, but for $54 a night I guess I should be thankful that they had anything. #Blessed

Thursday night’s show was fun. The headliner was Jon Reep, who I actually voted for on his season of Last Comic Standing many years ago, and 6’7″ emcee Brent Blakeney, who I worked with the last time I was in Raleigh (the Duncan-Robinson of opening acts), but this time we did not have to babysit Iliza Schlesinger’s dog in the green room. The show went well, though it was the only crowd for the week that wasn’t packed.  But I did make one pity sale of a CD to an older woman. That pity money then went to pay for a depression donut at the Dunkin Donuts near my hotel (the only thing within walking distance to my hotel – I would end up eating half of their inventory by Sunday morning).

TGIF

Friday would be the peak of the trip on all fronts, except CD sales.  I woke up, thought about going to the hotel gym, and after burning 3 calories thinking about it I opted instead to do a double feature at the movie theater. I got an Uber and ate at the aforementioned Chick Fil A and then saw Hands of Stone and Don’t Breathe. Check my positive reviews of both here:

The shows that night were great.  Packed crowds, big laughs, etc.  In other words nothing really fun to recap happened. I did get a celebration milkshake at Dunkin Donuts (technically it is a DD/Baskin Robbins, but DD is doing all the heavy lifting for that mediocre ice cream – the milkshake was weak).

Saturday – “If AIDS and Cancer had sex on this stage right now it would be more enjoyable than what you are doing”

During the day I sat in my hotel room doing a marathon of The Good Wife on Amazon Prime (solid show – 15 eps through season 1; I would have called the show The Nice Lawyer).  I then made my way to the club. The first show was hot despite a few woman making their voices heard too much (one woman said “oh come on” in disappointment about 7 times in the first 11 minutes of my set and a couple of younger ladies kept trying to get me to recognize them by overreacting with “awwws” at some punchlines. But overall – great first show.  Then the second show happened.

There are sad and tragic moments in American History concerning black men that are too legion to count. From slavery to Emmett Till to Trayvon Martin America has a plentiful history of destroying black men. I would like to add another black man to that tragic roster.  There was a Latin woman who kept talking and repeating lines and clapping off the beat of the jokes. At best she was horribly distracting, at worst she should be first on Trump’s deportation squad list.  I probably spent 12 of my final 22 minutes on stage in North Carolina dealing with her. I pledged to the crowd that I was going to join ISIS and after I completed my one target mission I would retire from jihad.  I ripped this woman so many ways and nothing worked (also here is a popular blog I wrote in 2013 about female hecklers).  And even more disappointing was that her husband or boyfriend, a strong looking black man (physically strong, obviously he had been mentally broken) had said nothing or never tried to intervene or calm her down or drown her in a bathtub.  Now in fairness to Stephen from Django, she was a Latin woman and that is right after cookies as my life kryptonite , but at some point you have to step up and be a cis-hetero-normative male, no matter how good the salsa is. The entire crowd roared every time I crushed her and the biggest laugh I probably got all week was when I morphed into Trump and gave her a “Get her out.”  On Twitter and Facebook I said this man’s performance was “the weakest by a black man since Charles Smith against the Bulls.” (The above quote is one of many things I said to her by the end of my set). Here are just a couple of still shots from me scolding the woman:

After the second show I sold some more CDs and was treated like a hero by most of the crowd.  But those good tidings simply meant that the comedy gods had something negative in store for me before leaving North Carolina, because no comedy journey ever ends well…

Sunday – The Fall Guy for the Fallen Lady

Just 2 hours ago at the writing of this sentence I arrived at the Raleigh train station.  I boarded the train and was told to take seat 3. I saw an obese elderly woman sitting in seat 4, but she had books and a tray of snacks in seat 4. I then said “Hey, that is my seat – they assigned me to it.” She then started saying she could move back (her scooter was in front of seats 1 and 2), but I did not understand that seat 4 was not her seat (why would I assume an obese/handicapped woman would park her chair somewhere other than the seat she is sitting in?) so I just waited for her to move the snacks so I could sit down. She then got out of the seat and shuffled/struggled to walk over to seats 1 and 2. At this point half the car is staring at me like I am the bus driver telling Rosa Parks to move, even though that is not what I intended. Also I am now blocking about 12 passengers from making it to their seats.  A guy the size of Luke Cage then tells me he is in seat 4 (why Amtrak paired 6’7″, 280 lbs with 6’3″, 230, when the people paired behind me had the combined weight of Tom Hanks at the end of Philadelphia is a mystery to me). As I was sliding out of the way of Luke the fall heard around the Amtrak world occurred.  The old lady fell spilling coffee and juices.  Luke and I helped her up to her seat and then a conductor came up to her to see if she was OK. She then explained that (pointing to me) “He HAD to have that seat so I got up.”  I tried to get support from Luke Cage, but between elderly black woman and guy who looks like he co-owned the pizza shop in Do The Right Thing I think his support for my predicament was tepid at best.

So now I sit in the cafe car on my way home blogging instead of being treated like the Bull Connor of Amtrak in my seat.  The good news is I will be back on Amtrak tomorrow headed to Albany to do voice work as Donald Trump, so I just need to remember my German Sheppard and fire hose in the morning.

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This weekend was a unique one for road work.  In early July I featured at the Albany Funny Bone and the emcee was a local named Frank Gentile. We had a nice week and went our separate ways, but then I got a message from him on Facebook a month later asking if I wanted to do a one night gig in the Albany area.  I was going to say yes because travel to Albany is cheap from NYC, but before I could say yes, Frank informed me that the gig also paid money and I almost had to reconsider taking the gig since losing money on as many shows as possible has become integral to my brand as a comedian (“The King of All Unpaid Media” (TM)).  I decided to take the gig and then learned it was a private party (Frank actually told me that initially, but I was so distracted by the thought of making money on a show that I didn’t read all the details.

When I arrived in Albany off of a packed Amtrak train I was greeted by Frank and we made our way to Clifton Park, NY.  We stopped at Wendy’s where I ate a spicy chicken sandwich meal (just like athletes it is important for comedians to give their body the right fuel to generate the proper amount of self-loathing energy before performing).  When we got to the venue I was greeted by what I would refer to as “Wayne Manor” the rest of the evening – a huge home with a Ferrari (or Corvette or some other car that I will never be allowed to touch, let alone own in my life) in the garage, a tent for the party and a deluxe his and hers porta-potty that put most Manhattan studio apartments to shame.  And I would be remiss if I left out the fact that for a party with about 40 guests in the middle of nowhere (NYC bias), the women looked great – proving my theory that money to women is like heat to bugs.  In the middle of upstate NY in a town I have never heard of there were still several attractive women (and there with husbands and boyfriends – so very legit – not imported/rented talent like the Platinum porta potty), which shows wherever there is money – Beverly Hills, Clifton Park, Syria – there will be attractive women.  Much like in the middle of winter if there is one sunny 50 degree day all of a sudden bugs show up with no warning for that day, hot chicks and money are the same – they just show up, even in places where you might only expect morbidly obese people on scooters wheeling around the local Wal-Mart. This is not even suggesting gold digging – it is more like how a plant will lean towards sunlight – it just sort of happens sometimes.  To prove my point, when I mentioned that I was taking Greyhound back to NYC during my set, three of the women in attendance died. This was not intentional – it was just their natural response to being so close to sad economic situations.

The evening was a catered, DJ event – as I joked, the guy who had the party and owned Wayne Manor basically throws small weddings as his regular parties. In fact, since I only have audio of my performance – here are some of my favorite off the cuff remarks from my set:

• I will keep my set short as I know you probably have to go fight crime in downtown Albany soon
• I assume everyone has their masks for the Eyes Wide Shut sex party inside after my set?  Kids, I suggest you leave before then.
• (During Southwest Airlines bit the host clapped) Don’t give me a pity clap sir!  We both know you do not fly Southwest.  You probably have a tunnel built in the airport for yourself to avoid the riff raff that flies Southwest
• (while his wife stepped away) I bet your wife tries to get mouthy now that she feels comfortable in her big house – like her opinions matter (I then point to the house) Do you just look at her and say THAT’S YOUR OPINION?!
• Your Summer party is a wedding level event to regular people.  P Diddy should be taking notes.

The rest was basically just my routine, but what a fun gig!  The audience was great and I crushed the desert trays before and after my set.  The host is basically an auto body shop mogul – a self made business success. He told me he grew up in a trailer and has been working his ass off in the industry for 22 years (the last seven in his own business) and he told me that he thought I would eventually break through in my industry.  It made me sad to inform him that seven years ago I was a six figure attorney so if anything I will be in a trailer by the end of my career, but I still appreciated his kind words and the great party he put on.   But like any gig of mine it had to end on a sour note.  Enter Greyhound.

Frank gave me a ride to the Greyhound station, which by Greyhound standards was a Ritz Carlton: various vending machines with snacks people might actually want, a separate cafe and only one homeless man semi-pants-less outside the door.  I was scheduled to board the 11pm bus which was scheduled to arrive at 1:45 at Port Authority – this is what you get when you travel for $17.  To be fair Greyhound has upgraded their seats to leather so now you no longer need a black light to see the body fluid stains.  The bus was 30 minutes late, but I did get a seat to myself. However, all lights on the bus were off the whole time so I could not read (bus driver asked “Does anyone want to read?” and to no one’s surprise no one said yes so I didn’t want to be the douche with a reading light on so I just listened to my iPod and rubbed my sore knees (from the cramped seating not any Eyes Wide Shut activities at Wayne Manor).

For all of you that were unable to experience the genius that was this show (or were there and want more), I suggest you go to iTunes and get my new stand up album Israeli Tortoise which went #1 this month on iTunes (also available on Amazon and Google)