My New York Times Subscription

Will Shortz does my dirty work.

When I lived at home I had daily access to the NY Times and the New York Daily News, the two papers my Mom wakes up at 4 AM to read cover to cover before leaving for work. I took it for granted. I would flip through it while having breakfast. My girlfriend, with whom I now live, had a subscription to the New York Post, which is one third of the girlie Holy Trinity of news sources (Dateline and US Weekly are the other two components).

So my brother, a journalist, decided that to save me from the clutches of the New York Post he would get me a housewarming gift in the form of a New York Times subscription. I must say that I am happy for many reasons:

1) I know what is going on in the world this week. For example in one article a few days ago it said that based on poll numbers, Americans are increasingly of the belief that going into Iraq was the right decision. Amazing. In a related poll, 55% of Americans decided that the 45% who believe that are fuc-ing idiots.

2) It has not been stolen once. In Washington DC my Washington Post would get stolen at least once a week. If anyone knows someone in Cleveland Park who has confessed to newspaper theft I want him extradited to New York and held as an enemy combatant.

3) I can give my girlfriend the NY Times crossword puzzle each day, which is the only thing a man can give a woman that will be as satisfying and frustrating and confusing as the woman herself. I am especially looking forward to Friday’s crossword.

4) My first Sunday Times gets delivered on Sunday. I am hoping to be awake to see the forklift drop it off. I hear this Sunday they are adding a new 32 pages section on toe nail clippings, the last remaining reference topic not covered by the Encyclopedia Britannica that is the Sunday Times.

Another Bronx Tale

This one does not feature a kid named Cholesterol.

Sometimes I wonder why I work in the Bronx. Is it some part of a divine plan or fate? Some bank robber was once asked, “Why do you rob banks?” He replied, “Because that’s where the money is.” Why would a comedian work or live in the Bronx? Because that’s where the humor is.

I was walking to Court today to drop off some cases when I observed a verbal dispute break out between a Latino Man (LM) approximately 46 years old and an African-American (AA) approximately 16 years old. Fortunately it was a long “DON’T WALK” sign so I got to see everything develop.

AA: I AIN’T SCARED OF YOU!!

LM: blank stare

AA: I’ve knocked out way bigger nig-as than you. I ain’t scared

J-L: Like my size or someone smaller? And technically I am only half nig-, oh never mind.

LM: Just walk away

AA: YOU ALL TALK, YOU SCARED!

J-L: Verbs please

LM: I GOT A KNIFE. WALK AWAY I’M GIVING YOU A LEASE ON LIFE

J-L: Hey – I was thinking about writing a sitcom about the leasing company my Mom works for and calling it Lease on Life. Small world.

LM began walking away and AA followed him down the block in the direction of the courthouse which seemed like a place they should both be headed. Cut out the NYPD as middleman.

Some bystanders asked me if I was a lawyer and I said yes. They informed me that just threatening with a knife was a crime (they were probably thinking of menacing, which would require a knife or something resembling it to be displayed). And since AA was not President of the United States a mere threat would probably just be a violation.

I then ran and caught up to LM and AA and told them they should go see the new play Platanos and Collared Greens, which is a new off Broadway play about romance between an African American man and a Latina woman in NYC. My guess is that it does not end with the man’s younger brother getting stabbed by the woman’s father, which is why I am writing an off Broadway play called “Knocking out way bigger nig-as and the men who stab them.”

The Wire vs. The Emmys

The best show on television gets snubbed… again.

I am not sure who is voting for the Emmy nominations, but they need to have their heads examined. The five shows selected for “Best Drama” this year were The Sopranos, Grey’s Anatomy, Boston Legal, House and Heroes. Most noticeably off the list is the best show on television The Wire. The show suffers from one major problem, but let’s look at the nominees.

First – we can dismiss Boston Legal. The show is a farce and is being pushed as a drama? The show is a collection of has-beens (James Spader who is sort of like a more sarcastic James Woods in his delivery, but much more gay-sounding), William Shatner and Candice Bergen.

Then we have Grey’s Anatomy. I will be honest – I have never watched this show. Any show that is that hugely popular with young women (and not on HBO) is almost guaranteed to be a steaming pile of sh-t. The only thing I know is the token black guy on the show called someone a “fag.”

House – not a bad show. I just didn’t know that tense theme music and medical issues could turn 45 minutes of sarcasm into drama. But not a bad show.

Heroes – very interested in seeing the DVDs (pre-ordered for august). I have heard the show is good (same things were said about early seasons of Lost and 24). If anyone knows if there are any black characters on the show I would appreciate that information.

And then there’s The Sopranos. The Sopranos for me is like seeing a great man or woman in a wheelchair late in life. You know that it is the same person who accomplished great things, but when they’re shi–ing in a diaper it’s hard not to recognize that things have changed substantially for the worse. In the last 21 episodes of the show the single greatest thing they did was play Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. I am a big believer in HBO, but you shouldn’t just hand them nominations just for the hell of it. Especially when HBO has the best show on television: The Wire.

Now I will try to be subtle about this, but the Wire does not get major nominations because it has too many black people (perhaps Kanye West can say that the emmys don’t care about black people at the next awards show). The fact is that despite HBO’s stellar reputation and universal critical acclaim for The Wire, its ratings are not great and the nominations are not there.

When a show like NYPD Blue or Sex and the City or The Sopranos come on and make people look at television differently and say, wow those issues or those portrayals or those sets look and feel like real life, we praise them and watch them and nominate them. And yet when a show shows a well rounded look at urban life and demonstrates from the street to city hall the issues affecting inner cities and the people who work and live in them we are not interested. You could say that they don’t speak to people, but how does the Sopranos speak to every day average Joe? Furthermore when other HBO programs are incredibly powerful and realistic (Band of Brothers as a great example) the nominations are overflowing. Even Deadwood, whose ratings were anemic secured major nominations its first two seasons.

One argument against this is that people want to be entertained and don’t want to see dreary and depressing stories on Sunday night. If that is what you assume the Wire is then you have already tipped your hand. The Wire is just as funny and entertaining as The Sopranos in parts, except at the end of each season you have thought a lot more than at the end of a season of the Sopranos.

The truth is The Wire is a once in a generation show that forces people to examine what the fu-k is going on without flinching at reality, while at the same time making its portrayal of reality as entertaining and diverse as the real thing. The Wire is the best show on television because it is well written, well acted, incredibly realistic, and most importantly thought provoking. The bottom line is that other shows on HBO and elsewhere have been nominated despite being “too realistic” or having bad ratings. I guess The Wire can only speak to you if you are listening.

If you really want to see the best show on television in 2007 just wait for season 4 of the Wire on DVD.

The History of Roommates

3 Men and a Little Lady

Since I am approaching one month with my new living situation I figured that it was time to give a status report on it. But then I reflected and said, “Hey I have not written anything funny in a while, so maybe I should do a humorous history of my roommates.” Well, here it is:

MY BROTHER

For the first 11 years of my life I had a roommate. He looked very much like me and was an excellent roommate. He was six and half years older than me and never made a stink about having to turn off the tv or do work outside after 9 pm when his freakishly tall younger brother went to sleep. When I had bad dreams as a little kid he would tell me it was ok, which is strange because most older brothers are required to punch you in the face and say, “stop being such a pussy.” Other than being very hairy and leaving said hair all over the sink – an excellent roommate.

The only problem began to arise when he started coming home from college and tried to act like it was still his room. It set a dangerous precedent in my house that despite being a legal adult the home was still open and to be treated as the primary home. It would lead to disastrous results as I treated it as such until the age of 28.

RANDOM TASK

I call my next roommate (sophomore year of college) Random Task because that was his nickname and he resembled one of the Austin Powers villains in Austin Powers 1. He was messy, but kept it confined to his side of the room. He also mistook my laundry for a urinal once. And he also would eat a large pizza by himself after midnight and then go to sleep three out of five weeknights. I had my own room junior and senior years.

MY TEAMMATE

In law school I roomed with a college teammate of mine. We were both 6’7”, which made it the tallest room apartment in law school/law center history. The things I remember most were watching a lot of movies, joking around, figuring out who would cave and unclog the shower drain, and the time when I ate cereal with a giant serving spoon because he used all the spoons and had not washed one. I learned two important lessons from that. One is that even when you are technically right it is better not to be a bitch. Secondly I am still good friends with him because we did not live together the next two years.

MY GIRLFRIEND

Now we are at my current living situation. Things are very good so far. She’s a morning person and so am I. Unfortunately her morning starts at 10 am and mine starts at 5:30 am. And when I come home from working out she often greets me with a “boys are gross.” But it is either really great or I am madly in love (or both), but in any case I am happy. And best of all she’s clean and neat, but the size 4 clothes strewn around the apartment can be a hazard sometimes. Where’s Random Task when you need him?

Disclaimer – clothes strewn about are size 2 only, need to say that so I do not need to look for a new roomie.

It’s 1 a.m. and I’m Doing Homework

Continuing Legal Torture, er I mean Education

One of the great things about work, some people said to me while I was a student for 22 straight years, is that when you work at least you don’t have homework.

Well, those people did not have my job. Today, in addition to working a day shift at work, I have had to work into the early morning hours working on HOMEWORK assignments for a trial training program that my job mandates. That is the great thing about the legal profession. Every two years you must complete several hours of legal education so that you are up to date and fit to be a lawyer. So it allows you to continue the part of the education process that sucked most, without any of the enjoyable experiences of schooling.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I would take as many of these courses and lectures as I could, even if they were not requirements for me to keep my license to practice law. But I really thought I was done with homework. Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in.

Nothing else to report.

Emasculated

Does anyone want to see Transformers with me?

The last movie I saw was Evening. I think that explains the title of this blog. The movie is about women wondering about choices (children vs. independence, pads or tampons, those sorts of things). It is told through the memories of a dying old woman who loved a man forty years ago and has not seen him since. These movies, The Notebook is another prime example, are bad because no matter how much you believe the woman you are with is the love of your life and you hope for vice versa, you feel a little uneasy. Like in the back of your mind you fear that there was probably some guy in your lady’s past who fought fires from his private fire yacht, but only when he wasn’t playing professional tennis or buying square blocks of real estate in Manhattan. In other words these movies serve no good purpose. I would like to think there are some ladies out there reminiscing about their lost weekend of love with that awkwardly tall wannabe comedian, but they don’t exist.

My review of Evening is that like the life of the old lady in the movie, the filmmakers did not end it soon enough.

Then I spent a decent amount of the week reading, writing and watching Sex and the City with my girlfriend. This is a show that unlike many men I make no bones about having watched. It was entertaining and usually before or after another good HBO show. However, watching it with your girlfriend in 8 episode bursts is like having a real time critique of yourself as a boyfriend. With four women ranging from socialite prude to mediocre looking professional to glib writer to raging whore, every episode will say something that reminds you of how you fu-ked up somehow at some point.

So now I am watching The Departed to boost my testosterone. But I am writing a blog while watching it, which I guess sort of cancels it out. This week I will be seeing movies with explosions and stuff. Harry Potter, here I come.

What I’m reading these days…

because movies are bad right now

Oceans’ 13 – C (we get it you’re cool and we’re dumb for seeing it)

Fantastic Four 2 – D, (awful)

Ratatouille – A- (made me want to go to Europe and talk to animated rats).

As expected so I have nothing really to report on the movie front. In fact though the worst thing I subjected myself to this weekend was a viewing of one of my first stand up performances in DC in October 2003 (my 5th month ever doing comedy). Wow did I like my Arnold Schwarzenegger impression! I thought my girlfriend was going to dump me after we watched it. Sort of like finding out your significant other was a Dungeons and Dragons champion four years ago. But I am much better now and have been getting some interest from some people out in LA (don’t ask – I will have my people call your people).

So after embarrassing myself and, despite having a newly installed TiVo, I decided to exercise my brain a little and get back to reading.

I recently finished The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. It won last year’s Pulitzer for non fiction. You think that would give me enough credibility to read it freely on the bus and train. However, my copy had a big “Oprah’s book club” sticker on it, which opened me up to numerous catcalls of “homo” in those same locations. Fortunately my girlfriend is familiar with Oprah and her damned stickers and removed it for me. It has been a while since I read a really well regarded piece of literature, which reminded me why I don’t generally like “literature.” The book is good enough and at times had me very invested, but for the most part all I could give it was a shrug of the shoulders. Granted, it takes a lot more creativity to make a book like The Road, which is about some nondescript post-apocalypse and the journey a man and his son take looking for anything (food, shelter, meaning, hope – i.e. they are both stand up comics) in the bleak future. I think all John Grisham does is punch in a southern town, a branch of law and one crime into Microsoft’s Grisham 2007 and voila! A new novel is born. However The Road was not as great to me as I’ve heard it is. Then again I may just be uncultured swine.

Now I am reading Barack Obama’s new book. I like where the man is coming from. And that is mostly because he is quickly replacing Adam Sandler as the man I am most often compared to looks wise (in the supermarket 3 days ago a man came up to me and said, “My God you look like Barack Obama. I told him I was and got a $250 campaign contribution). However, my mother was not pleased when I visited yesterday and she saw the book. That is because my Mom has been the president, for the last 15 years of the “Please let Hilary Clinton be president so I can die in peace” club. Now she would vote for a black man for president, as long as that man was a Democrat and not my father. However after me and my brother the people my mother will defend against anything and everything are Bill and Hilary. Sorry Barack, but you won’t be getting Yosemite Anne’s vote until the general election.

I am actually still waiting for Al Gore to run, but if he does not I will be voting for either Hilary, Barack or John Edwards, although I actually like the idea of a Bloomberg independent ticket – sort of like Ross Perot, but with more Jewishness and less crazy.

I don’t know what I will have to report the rest of the week because I am on vacation this week from my day job. Probably just some more reading. Next on my list is “The N Word: who can say it, who shouldn’t and why.” Chapter 1: Half Haitian, Half Irish men who look like Adam Sandler cannot. Chapter 2: Barack Obama can. Hmmmmmmmm.

Chris Benoit: WWE Hero

Translation: steroid abusing murderer

I used to watch wrestling. I enjoyed in college when I would share in Dominos pizza on a Monday night watching people like The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin flex and crack jokes. For a few years I found it entertaining, like a soap opera on steroids. I am not necessarily proud of it, but hey, we all did things we regret in college.

But last night wrestling hit a new low point. Beyond steroid scandals, beyond sexism, beyond glorifying violence, and yes, beyond grown men prancing around in body oil and latex underwear. They gave a tribute to Chris Benoit, a popular wrestler in the WWE.

What’s the problem?

Chris Benoit killed his son, his wife and himself. And he was Canadian.

I am going to go out on a limb, but I think tributes should be reserved for people who:

a) Have done something worthwhile

b) Did not murder their family

I think it is sad when people feel driven to kill themselves. However, that sadness tends to disappear when they take others with them. No one is honoring the Virginia Tech gunman. No one is honoring the Columbine kids. No one is honoring Ann Coulter (sorry wishful thinking).

But then again, those guys couldn’t jump off the top rope.

Not very funny – I just think in a 25 year history of shameful and stupid behavior the WWE has hit an all-time low. Then again, there may be a report that the shooting was all staged and just sports entertainment.

Look tomorrow for my report on the finals of the Bronx DA hoops league. I know you can’t wait.

Move Out

All streaks must come to an end

Well, after all the hoopla I have finally moved out of my parents’ home. 28 years and 60 days after my birth. I now live with my girlfriend on the upper west side of Manhattan.

There are some drastic implications to my comedy career by this move. Now, jokes about living with my parents go from contemporary classic to timeless classic. And already it has been replaced by a new joke called “the DVD merge.”

So now that I have to pay rent and stuff I would like to make this an extra special plea with reputable agents and managers to sign me. Just don’t tell me you are watching and I should have a good performance.

Nothing much to report today other than that. Now that I am much closer to movie theaters expect a barrage of movie reviews over the next week. (Fantastic Four 2, Ratatouille, Die Hard 4, Oceans 13 and Sicko are all on the list + Evening for the lady).

“It was like Iraq because you were bombing”

It took 4 years for me to truly bomb.

Last night was a proud moment for me. I got a big handshake from the doorman at Gotham when I walked in congratulating me. I was about to get my first non-bringer prime time spot on a pro show at Gotham Comedy Club. Admittedly I was a little nervous. Why? I do not really know.

Before the show I was speaking with my girlfriend who asked me if I was getting paid for the spot. I told her no and she asked why the club can do that. A terrific question, but the answer is simple: because I want what the club provides – stage time in front of real audience at a reputable venue. My girlfriend then told me she didn’t get it how I wasn’t getting paid when even clowns get paid for toddler birthday parties. Another great point.

Let’s just say on this night I would barely earn my pay.

The show was very bizarre – there was a filming going on for one of the comics for a new hi-definition cable channel. it was quite annoying because they kept re-filming things and trying to force reactions from the crowd. Then Jon Fisch went up – a Gotham favorite – and did good work. Then it was time for my 8 minute set.

It started well enough with my NBA joke. Then it just started getting shi-ty. I had more “ums” in my routine than an Ed Koch speech and more “yeahs” than Little Jon. Jokes that kill routinely I was fu-king up. The only stuff that actually worked last night was the newer stuff I have been working on. So there is a silver lining – I came away with 2 new minutes of material. But it was heinous. I was embarrassed for the first time in a long time with my comedy. In four years i feel like I have made steady progress, until last night.

The quote in the title is a joke from the funniest person I know who at this point should probably telling jokes while I bring people to her shows. And it is true.

But after four years in the game I have finally realized the key to success in this business: balancing hard work and not giving a fu-k. Going to open mics 5-6 nights a week is draining and I have not been doing it lately – so I have failed the hard work portion of comedy success. The other component I have been too busy worrying about what other people think that I have not looked at comedy as hungrily as I once did. Performing comedy is almost always 100% satisfaction for me. Worrying about what club owner thinks or what manager is watching or what show I’m auditioning for is what stresses me out. Almost all of my best jokes were written without anyone else in mind, but just based on what I thought was funny. I need to get back to that. The problem is when you are 28, working a 9 to 5 and living at home you are one of only a few things:

1) handicapped,

2) extremely lazy or

3) scared to disappoint or anger people.

Whatever the case may be it is time for that change. The directions of my life and comedy have followed similar paths. Now it is time for them both to swing upwards. I do not know which must change first, but they both have to.

The worst part about NYC is that I have not gotten sh-t other than one guest spot in four years from NYC. On the other hand, LA has hooked me up with a comedy central audition and interest from a manager from a reputable agency in the last 8 months. The problem is I am here and they are there. To be continued…