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Comedy Road Recap: A Show for the Aged

This weekend I was on a show in Croton Falls, NY, a place that would be a perfect setting for a horror movie. There was a horrific Summer storm raging and Sprint, which generally has mediocre coverage anywhere outside of a 15 foot radius of a Sprint store, was completely dead. Combined with the desolate, suburbs-on-verge-of The Sticks ambiance, I figured it was only a matter of time before an ax wielding madman chopped my head off. So it was imperative that if this was a horror movie that I find the busty young co-ed showering before I met my demise.  None of that happened, but I was set to perform a half hour at the Schoolhouse Theater, which felt like the clocktower the lady was trying to raise money for in Back To The Future.  The show was sold out (90 seats to hear JLC speak), but the average age was Old Testament and the average ethnicity was Clorox.  But after 11+ years doing comedy, one of the refreshing things is you learn never to judge an audience by its demographics.  Sometimes a crowd of young people can be stupid, unimpressed or uninformed and give you next to nothing, while a bunch of old people in the suburbs can be a great audience, literally dying for a laugh. And that was the case on Saturday (the thumbnail pic on this post is supposed to represent me with the audience).

A few of my jokes rubbed the crowd the wrong way and/or confused them, but my tag line becamse “tell your grandkids to use ‘the google’ to figure it out – then they might become fans of mine who laugh at the joke when I am actually telling it instead of 6 hours later during an Internet search.”  Yes, sort of long for a tag line, but it worked with slightly shorter variations throughout my set.

After the show there was a Q & A with the audience where they asked the comedians about comedy, our lives, etc and it actually was kind of cool. And it allowed me to make my final impresssion a nice one instead of as a cynical dick.  After the show I even sold a few CDs and met a teacher from my high school who was classmates at UPenn with the emcee.  One elderly woman in a scooter said to me she wished I would write something so she could learn more about my life. She said that every time I started to talk about myself, whether my family, my jobs, my travel stories, she wanted to hear more about it.  As I always say, all the good women are either taken or are wheelchair bound senior citizens. I told her if I ever write a book I will get her a copy (for full cost – I left that part out).  I then went home and celebrated with some cookies and milk because for all the glitz and glamour tht comes with performing for 90 people in a small theater in the suburbs, I am still just the same humble comedian I started out as. #Blessed

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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Weekend Comedy Recap: DC Wedding

This weekend was one of those rare weekends (62% of all my weekends) when I was not booked to tell jokes for minimal profit.  So I did the next best thing – I brought my comedy skills to a wedding in DC for free (food provided, no room – like most gigs now)!  My friend Ross was getting married to his lady of almost ten years, Anne.  Interesting story – I met Ross in my first and only Improv class (the thinking was I am new to stand up so let me bolster my overall comedy game, includign the comedic arts that people find annoying) in DC when I was just a few months into starting as a stand up comedian. He has been one of my most loyal and valuable supporters/critics of my comedy (for those of you that like my podcast he was like Josh Homer 1.0).  When I left DC in 2004 to be a Bronx ADA, Ross met Anne shortly thereafter, proving that there is no good luck as good as J-L relocating to another part of the country from you #blessed.

I arrived in DC and got a sweet deal at The Melrose Hotel, which was right across the street from McFadden’s where I would occasioanlly drink when I was just a DC law student with loads of potential.  The Melrose was super nice, to the point that I think hotwire.com made a mistake with the price they gave me.  My room was spacious and beautiful and came with a section of the US Constitution on the wall, as I usually request when on the road.

Other than accurately stating the Constitution this was a perfect room for a Tea Partier.

I went for a nice stroll through Georgetown to the Ritz Carlton Georgetown where the wedding was.  It was a nice fairly small ceremony and the Maid of Honor was Bridgette, a cute female bull terrier, who rumor had it was a real whore with a couple of the groomsmen later that night.  I thought it was cute, given the small ceremony, for Bridgette to be involved, but can you imagine being the bridesmaids and losing out to a 112 year old Bull Terrier?

Then it was time for me to shine. The miscellanous wedding table.  I was sitting with four couples and one married dude whose wife was back home.  Definitely one of the most fun wedding tables I can remember in my wedding career.  Instead of feeling like Lebron on the Cavs, I felt more like Chauncey Billups on the 2004 Pistons – a real solid team effort from everyone at the table.  Added bonus was sitting next to a celiac (the gluten diseased people) which meant double dinner rolls and double cake (cut me some slack I dropped 40 lbs since March) for me. I even asked for permission by the time I took her third roll.

Due to my extra working out, my lack of partying conditioning this Summer and my insomnia over the last month I left around 1015 and went back to the Melrose. I fell asleep and was having a nice time until my hotel alarm went off at 3 am.  And then again at 530 am.  Here is something I think all hotels should do (this has happened to me 4 times in my life) – the maid should have to reset or turn off all alarms as part of her (or HIS #equality) duties.  As revenge I jerked off into the shampoo bottle and then cleaned it off like it had never been used.  It is a thing I like to call “Shitting it Forward.”    But seriously, there is nothing more annoying then having exactly one night a week to sleep well, having swank and cozy conditions to get eight hours and then, with 6 gin and tonics and a belly full of gluten, getting jolted awake at 3 am.

But overall, a great little trip back to my old stomping grounds. Here is a throwback photo of Ross and I (and comedian Danny Rouhier on the left) in 2003 or 2004 when I started.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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St Paul Road Recap: Grandma Steve Austin Flips Me…

This past week was a whirlwind tour of Canada-South, aka Minnesota.  It was the typical J-L Cauvin comedy trip: Southwest Airlines, solid merch sales, complaints to the club and complaints directly sent to me while on stage.  The trip began with a 5 am run on a rainy Wednesday morning in NYC. It felt good – the city was dark and quiet and the only thing to fear in Midtown Manhattan was the 6’7″ bi-racial guy looking like a small B-cup version of Baywatch-Manboobs Edition running up and down 1st and York Avenues.  I got back to my apartment, showered and grabbed my bags for LaGuardia’s Southwest Airlines section, which is as close in feel to Port Authority Bus Terminal as any airport in America gets.  Upon arriving at Minneapolis-St Paul Airport, after a Chicago-Midway lawyover, I was picked upby my feature Joey Vincent, who for NYC comics looks like Jon Fisch, if Jon Fisch played Left Tackle for the Minnesota Vikings.  So the two of us drove the 2 hours in his van to the Black Bear Casino in Carlton, MN.  The gig at the Black Bear Casino is always interesting – it is run by a nice little fellow named Chuck, for whom ever year is 1987 when it comes to fashion – he sort of reseembles a short, mustachioed version of Sean Penn’s lawyer character in Carlito’s Way.  Well the casino has no table games and the showers have curtains instead of doors, so basically I don’t expect Floyd Mayweather to have his next title defense there.  Seven minutes prior to showtime I took a photo (look it up on my Facebook page (157 likes #blessed) or instagram: jlcomedy to see the 4 people sitting in the room.  But as soon as you could say #quitting and#RobinWilliamsMusthaveHadThisAsHisLastGig, the floodgates opened and we had almost a full room. Joey had a great set and I did what all legends do – performed so great that I sold one CD after the show.  If this sounds unremarkable, it isn’t because Joey said he had never seen someone make a sale at Black Bear and this was the second straight year I had at least one sale. I am basically the Wilt Chamberlain of selling CDs at weird casinos.

We headed back down to St Paul on Thursday for the first of my five shows headlining the Joke Joint Comedy Club.  The club has a condo, but unlike many condos, this one is the second floor of the club owner’s house so you know he keeps it clean and cozy.  It is like your own small, 2 bedroom apartment equipped with Dish TV and a PS3, which is a great contrast to the comedy condo at Rivercenter Comedy Club in San Antonio Texas, which is fully equipped with West Nile Virus and cockroach semen.

The Thursday show was actually just me doing twenty minutes after a comedy contest, which was fun because you could feel both the fatigue and the “this guy isn’t our fu*king friend” vibe from the crowd. Still sold three CDs to an avid reader of this blog so here’s to you if you are reading this post.

Fridays shows represented the highwater mark of the week for sure.  The early Friday crowd was massive. Not kidding. From what I was told it far exceeded Summer expectations and then I ended up selling 17 CDs after the first show (leaving me with two left for the remaining three shows).  And there was only one complaint to management!  The late Friday show was a much smaller crowd, but really really good (other than the fact that they bought zero CDs).  They also were treated to an eight minute off the cuff discussion of Barkhad Abdi, the Somlian pirate from Captain Phillips and Minnesota resident (until he moved to LA for movies and teeth whitening… I hope) that was not vidotaped and will go down as the greatest 8 minutes of comedy dedicated to Barkhad Abdi EVER.

Saturday’s shows had me stressed because, if I was pushing that much merchandise weight on Friday, there were bound to be a lot of disappointed fans on Saturday. Fortunately for all of us, the large crowd featured a woman I will call Grandma Steve Austin. The show was going alright, but then an odd exchange occurred:

Me: My father is Haitian-

Lady (possibly Grandma, but not sure): We like you anyway!

Crowd: Nervous laughter.

Group of Latin and Possibly Mixed Race Women on the other side of the room: What the fu*k did she just say?

Me: That was weird (followed by some laugh line).

(15 minutes later)

Me: I think if the state has marriage powers then they have to be given to gay couples, but I think sometimes Dads who are upset at having gay sons get a bad rap.

(Definitely) Grandma Steve Austin: FU*K YOU!

Me: (turning to see who she was arguing with to see her staring right at me) Huh? But the joke is really funny

Crowd: TELL IT

Me: (I tell it and it kills)

5 minutes later doing my closer:

Me: So my girlfriend was actually in the movie The Wolf of Wall Street

(I then turn to GSA’s side of the room where she is holding out a double middle fingered salute (Steve Austin style), waiting for me to turn – as in she already had them up before I turned towards her)

So unless this woman has a gay son and was ripped off by Jordan Belfort I am not sure why she was so hostile, though I learned afterward that she was extremely drunk and her husband ditched her halfway through the show.  Sadly this led to me selling zero CDs after the show, mainly because of the awkward tension, even though I did get a “great set” worth of handshakes after the early show.  At this point I was feeling like Tiger Woods chasing Jack Nicklaus – after the 21 CD sales prior to Saturday I figured there was no way I wouldn’t sell out.  Now, just like Tiger, after a belligerant exchange with a woman, I had lost my mojo and was still stuck with 2 left to complete the task. Well, the late crowd was really good, even though it was probably my weakest set of the week.  I sold one album. So I left with 23 from NYC and would return with just one. Pretty good considering for my last road trip (Cleveland-Chicago back-to-back) I brought 40 and returned home with 32.

The next day the club owner was nice enough to drive me to the airport at 545 am where he told me that the headliner at his Houston club, which I will be headlining in September, sold $700 worth of merch this weekend.  Given my track record I better bring more CDs and a willingness to harvest my own organs if I want to sell that well. Stay tuned.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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Comedy, a Hostel and a Most Awkward Encounter

On Sunday night I performed at Jazz on the Park, a twice weekly show run by the nicest, if not least influential booker in NYC, Randy Epley.  To give you a visualization he looks like a slightly sickly Gary Oldman. He is generous with the spots and I will always remember his hostel show as the last place I did a warm up set for my appearance on The Late Late Show 43 years ago. Now the show, which takes place at the aforementioned location is on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.  It is actually a good place to work out material for broad audiences, because the crowds are usually foreign, but English speaking, so they get jokes, but not necessarily inside-America/NYC jokes.  Now the show can be hit and miss with crowds, but last night was practically a full house and very receptive to the comedians.  I went up third and had a very strong set, with the exception of a new joke at the end that I am still “working out.” The premise of the joke is basically how some women will reassure you that they never slept (intercourse) with a douche bag, which only makes a reasonable guy assume that she gave him a bj, which to many men is far worse.  The joke got some laughs, but ended poorly (that is why we work on them and why it is a silver lining that I am not famous and having my open mic work recorded for Upworthy or Jezebel).  After the set I headed upstairs to talk with a comic who was nice enough to recently purchase my albums as a way of helping support Breaking Obamacare, my (hopefully) new sketch video.  As we were talking with another comedian, Corey, a young woman came upstairs and complimented Corey and me on our sets.

Full disclosure, the young woman was fairly attractive, but I had remembered her sitting next to an older woman who seemed to dislike my material (folded arms and shaking head are good signs of comedy displeasure).  The young woman said “That was my Aunt.  I think you were very funny, but some of it might be generational.”  She began to talk to the three of us about comedy and of course she was a Louis CK fan.  But she seemed to be fairly comedy literate and engaging in a comedy discussion.  We told her to check out my CK video and Corey handed her a piece of paper with our twitter handles on it. She said she didn’t have Twitter.  It was all going well and then her Aunt showed up.  I turned to the Aunt and said “Hey, I hope you at least liked some of my jokes.”  She then looked at me, pointed to her niece and quietly mouthed the words:

“She’s only 17, so you know…”

If there was a record of the formerly iritating theme song to Louie playing in my head based on the conversation we had ben having, it would have screeched to a stop.

First off, why are you only telling me?  Was my erection poking through my jeans?  Secondly, what does “so you know mean?” First 17 is legal in NY. Second, no I don’t know!  She came up to me. I have a monogrammed LL Bean backpack on and am walking out the door with two other comedians.  Why do I look like a threat? Other than my jokes about oral sex and my 6’7″ frame and terrorism-inspired eybrows?

I have never been at a loss for words after a show before, but I just had no idea what to say.  To be fair I would have guess the young woman’s age to be 20, but I didn’t realize that I should be introducing myself to neighbors as a sex offender according to her aunt.  I think I would have preferred the woman’s father punch me in the face for talking to his daughter than her aunt come in with the “Keep the dick in your pants; she’s a child you filthy pervert” attitude.  And let’s be honest, what kind of attractive, confident 17 year old walks up to three grown men in a hostel to compliment them on their comedy?  I know this might be wrong to say, but she was asking for a conversation!  She was practically begging for a chat about comedy!  There I said it. Sorry if that is out of line with today’s culture, but in my book, when a young woman strikes up a conversation with older men at a comedy show, she is there for one reason and one reason only. To get blasted with chit chat.

If you want to see me perform this week and talk the ear off of some 45 year old housewives I will be headlining the Joke Joint in St Paul, MN Thursday through Saturday.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

Culture

Salad Guys: The Celibate Bartenders of NYC

Bartenders have been doing well for themselves for decades.  You don’t have to look like Tom Cruise or flip bottles like he did in Cocktail to collect numbers, though depending on the establishment they usually stack the deck in favor of the bartender.  You hire good looking bartenders and women arrive, get intoxicated and look to bang the bartender.  It’s like a legal way of banging your Saturday night therapist. If you build it, they will cum. You get the vulgar point I am making. Whether it is the classy dude at the swank location, or the bro wearing sweatbands talking about how cross fit has changed his life, bartendinng is like being a firefighter in the vagina obtaining game, except unlike firefighters, bartenders put their clients in more danger, instead of saving them from it.  You may be asking, why is J-L talking about bartenders? Shouldn’t he exposing and overinflating an injustice in the comedy business?  Well, as my comedy career possibly winds down it is time for me to be exploring bigger injustices in the world, not just in the navel gazing comedy community.  And there is an injustice going on of epic proportions to the salad making community in NYC.  They are the bartenders of daylight, but getting none of the vaginal benefits of bartending. And this needs to change.

Every day for the last few months I have been going to Chop’t, a very popular salad chain (co-founded by a class of ’93 alumnus of my high school – just another way for me to feel unaccomplished on a daily basis while eating lunch) in NYC.  I have dropped a good amount of weight and have been very impressed with the workers at my local Chop’t.  They work with sharp blades and never get injured, they work at breakneck speed and they have to remember more salads than a Starbucks barista has to memorize coffee drinks.  But I have yet to see a phone number handed over by one of these demanding “tofu, hearts of palm, avocado, kale salad” ordering chicks (or guys – no judgment).  So let’s break it down.

Health

In this day and age of obsessively healthy eating who is doing your more good?  The guy who makes you a $10 salad full of nutrients or the guy who “makes” you a $7 fireball shot?

Equality and Efficiency

At a crowded bar you can wait 5-10 minutes for a drink… and that is if you are a hot 24 year old chick.  Well at Chop’t it doesn’t matter if you have tits spilling out of your work inappropriate  outfit or if you are a grandmother with varicose veined cankles, the staff at Chop’t will deliver your product fast.  And there is no room for error.  At lunchtime during the work week people treat their break as sacred and will snap if things don’t move quickly enough. At a bar on the weekend, take your time Broseph – give me a watered down drink for too much whenever is conveninet for YOU!

 

 

Meat Market

At my Chop’t the ratio of male to female salad makers is about 11:1. And they are all Latin, a people generally known for their passionate love making.  So let me get this straight – you would rather go for the bro riddled with HPV who has his pick of the litter every weekend or Miguel, the guy working his ass off, starved for vagina because he is surrounded by dick all day, just looking for a woman to have his 8 babies?  For every woman that walks into a Chop’t saying they can’t find a man or are running our of time to have kids, Angel should cut off one of their fingers with the blade they cut salads with. (On a side note – having a woman chop your salad is fine – but try to avoid them picking the ingredients for you – they have small hands and cannot scoop as much chicken in your chicken salad as a dude. In fact, Chop’t should hire a 6’8″ inner city black teen basketball player as an intern and his job is simply to scoop chicken with his Kawhi Leonard hands – Chop’t gets associated with a potential NBA player while doing good for the community and I get 3 lbs of chicken in my salad. Everybody wins).

Latinos Are The Future

I have met very few Latino batenders in NYC.  However, Chop’t looks like a South American soccer team.  When Chad or Brint from the nighclub “Blessed” (doesn’t exist yet) turns 50 (if you make a go of it) and the magic is gone what are you left with?  A bunch of dumb kids that are good looking enough to pull some high school tail and then be underachieving, aspiring actors until you die.  You hook up with Carlos from Chop’t? You have a kid that speaks the language of the future (Spanglish) and looks like the future.

So basically it boils down to this: if you like a hardworking person who makes your life better, has the skills of a bartender and the hardware and tattoos of Machete, do the right thing and throw a bang in the direction of your local salad chopper. Either that or you are a dumb racist.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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Cleveland Journal Pt 2: The Wrap Up (in Pictures)

Well, another week in my home away from home, Cleveland, has concluded and between good shows, great weather and saving money on my Con Ed bill back home this week was a huge success.  Since I was busy snapping a ton of photos on the trip I will just give you a short write up before giving you the photos (with hilarious captions of course).  Wednesday through Saturday I middled for Tim Gaither and Sunday I emceed for Gary Owen.  The great thing about working with Gary Owen (other than him being a funny dude) is that my first paid gig in August 2004 was emceeing for Gary Owen at the DC Improv.  So in 9 years, 11 months I have finally made it to the point where I am… emceeing for Gary Owen?  But since I worked with him in 2013 (and he remembered me then too after an 8 year gap) he remembered me as “the Georgetown law grad” (better to be remembered for something, right?).  He also remembered me telling him how good Season 3 of Breaking Bad was (apparently I really was like a Born Again Christian with that show).  But all the shows were fun (some more fun than others), but unlike most of my road comedy blogs I will let the pictures of the city and my time here do he talking.

Morning in Cleveland. Not a bad view

 

Downtown Cleveland on the 4th of July
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame - best museum in the world
Big open fields for people to play Frisbee downtown. Has Cleveland become a liberal arts college campus brochure?

 

Science Center on the lake where they test Josh Gordon's blood for PED and alcohol (Cleveland Browns burn!)

 

A Cleveland bird tried to shit on me... my backpack took the hit for me. #NeverForget

 

All for one and one for all.. and by "one" they mean Lebron James

 

Legends line the streets of Cleveland near the lake

 

The view from inside the Cleveland Improv. Best location of any club in America (that has had me)

 

Car crash right outside of Church before Mass on Saturday #NotBlessed

 

Bar Louie in Cleveland - spinach dip with LOTS of artichokes - $8.50; Hillstone in NYC - removed artichokes from its dip, $17 - WIN FOR CLEVELAND

 

This pit bull was the guest of honor at the cookout I was invited to on the 4th. I think it's a pit bull. It was scary enough for me to call it a pit bull. Too much muscle tone

 

The Cleveland Improv

 

Walked by it yesterday, will be there tonight for Yankees vs Indians.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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Lebron, Nipples and Shows: LA Comedy Journal

This week I have been in Los Angeles, with the main purpose of my visit being my second appearance on The Adam Carolla Show, which you can listen to here.  The recording went great and I think ensured me a third appearance (at which point I will refer to myself as a show “regular,” which although a stretch, will certainly be more true than the 1.5 million people walking around LA with either “activist” and/or “producer” on their business cards.  Among the perks of the show were the new vending machine that is completely free sitting in the studio.  Leaving the studio I did the classy thing and only took one bag of Famous Amos Cookies, instead of taking 9 bags of cookies, 14 bags of various candies and some gum, like I wanted to.  But there has been so much more to this LA trip than just crushing another appearance on the Carolla Show (#grinding #blessed #thankful).  So here are some of the highlights:

Los Angeles’ Confused Relationship with Lebron James

On Sunday evening I watch Game 2 of the NBA Finals at a sports bar.  My friend Nick and I were rooting for Lebron, which earned us numerous scornful stares, which I found odd given the fact that half of this town are people who left their hometowns behind to pursue the noble professions of acting and fellatio.  But fast forward to Tuesday night for Game 3 at a different sports bar that was dominated by Miami Heat fans (they even had jerseys to prove that they have been die hard fans for at least 4 years) and the reaction was completely different.  Being that this town feels like it is full of front running ass-kissers (imagine if the NYC comedy community ran an entire city) this felt more appropriate than the hostile reaction Lebron support got on Sunday.  Of course I eventually felt uncomfortable supporting the Heat when with 4 minutes left and the Heat  down 18, Rashard Lewis hit a 3 pointer, cutting the Spurs insurmountable lead to 15 points.  And then I saw a 13 year old Latin kid (I would guess Puerto Rican) ,who did not weigh on the triple digit side of 100 pounds pump his fist, mean mug a table of chubby Mexican dudes who were rooting respectfully for the Spurs, and say “what the fu*k you gotta say now you fu*king fa*gots!?”  Now they did not hear him, but I did… and so did this kid’s proud family members.  The response?  Nothing.  Obviously there was an undertone of Latin-on-Latin hate (Puerto Ricans rank 2nd on the Latino on Latino rankings, trailing only Cubans, but far outranking Mexicans), but I thought to myself “What would have happened if I called a group of strangers “fu*king fa*gots” at 13 in front of my family.  My guess is my parents would have stabbed me to death in shame before the table of Mexicans could do it.  But I wish this young man in his future as a low ranking member of the Latin Kings or as a high ranking member of a fast food management team in a decade.

Epidemic of Male Nipples at LA Gyms

So after a few days of eating terribly (the unlimited chips and cookies on a six hour flight are a gateway drug) I went to the gym today, a nearby 24 Hour Fitness.  And boy did it deliver.  Over 50% of the people had tattoos, including several guys that look like Harry Potter.  A majority of the women had ink, but the thing I noticed most of all, besides the worst pec size-to leg size ration I have seen in a good while, was the proliferation of male nipples.  Now I am not one of these tools that thinks women should be allowed to walk around topless (my apologies to Bruce Willis’ oddly big-breasted son who has been campaigning hard for this), but it makes me think that maybe men should do some covering up.  I would actually find it less weird for a dude to be working out shirtless than with a tank top that only seems to be beating the gym rule of “must wear shirt” on a technicality. Congrats sirs, 4 millimeters of each shoulder and your lowest 2 abs are covered by your “shirt.”  Other than seeing two women walking around with gallon jugs of water (is this a new cause? to prove that women can be as douchey as men in a gym?), the proliferation of male nipple was the weirdest trend I saw in the LA gym.

Fun Shows ad Reunions with NYC Comedians

It is amazing the mental change that can occur when doing unpaid bar shows 3,000 miles from home.  Other than been paid in a substance that I have no desire to use my four shows this week are all unpaid (#Grateful #blessed #Grinding #thankful).  Normally I would just watch TV or hang out with buddies in town, but being in a different city in front of different people, has a natural rejuvenating effect that motivates one to get on stage and, at least in my case, work on newer material.  I have also seen enough familiar faces to add a touch of comfort to the experience.  So I guess what I am saying  is when I get back to NYC… I will return to my normal level of unmotivated.  #Grinding

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

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Height Shaming: One Man’s Personal Struggle In America’s Next…

Our society continues to make progress on various forms of discrimination, but the more minorities, women and gays make progress towards full equality in our society the more we expose the real core of America’s discrimination: shaming.    Whether it’s using new slurs like “tranny” or “midget” or shaming sluts or bullying people we are seeing the real problem with America.  Sure gays are still being deprived civil rights in a majority of the country, women  on college campuses are being sexually assaulted in alarming numbers and the voting and civil rights of minorities are under attack and it is good we are working towards fixing these things, but these are just the tip of the iceberg.   How can we worry about rape of young women when we live in a rape culture where filth like Maleficent can be made in Hollywood??!!   Well after discussing with my family and doing some soul searching I have decided to go public with my experiences dealing with the scourge of height shaming.

Being asked on a daily basis by strangers “How tall are you?” and “Do you play basketball”  has made me afraid to go in public, to say nothing of the disappointed and hostile looks I receive when I reveal to these same strangers that I am not a professional basketball player.  It is as if I have been tattooed with a scarlet N (for Not a basketball player).  Shows like Curb Your Enthusiasm have made me feel ashamed to feel comfortable on the taller handicapped toilets.  Extra space on public transit seats labeled “handicapped” have provided me with needed comfort, but also a shameful feeling when I refuse to give up the seat to a person in a “wheelchair.”  I am now so not handicapped that I am closer to the handicapped community than the “regular” community as they call themselves.  And this is to say nothing of the shameful display I saw at the Guinness’Book of World Records Museum in San Antonio that I had to endure in Summer of 2013.  Greeting visitors at the entrance of the museum is a mechanical representation of the Rosa Parks of the anti-height shaming struggle, Robert Waldlow, the tallest man ever to live.  He grew to 8’11 1/2″ (he died at 24 due to a pituitary condition, denying the heighted community of its first 9 foot leader since Goliath).  And do we honor this man’s struggle and fight? No we have tourists take pictures with his likeness.  This is like if the Washington Redskins not only kept their name, but had fans take pictures with dead Native Americans during the game.

I have been soldiering on in this height-shaming society (remember when we used to brag about how tall people made more money and how the tallest candidate always won the presidency?  Now we choose to ignore the height community’s contributions to society and talk instead about how other people make less and how we need a short woman to be president, not to mention the harsh criticism our society has given Lebron James ever since he said he was taking his height to South Beach), but yesterday it became clear that shutting our collective mouth is not working.  In order to fit on to my Jet Blue flight to Los Angeles yesterday I had to purchase their “even more leg room” seats, which might as well be labeled “Freak Assigned Seating.”  It was an additional $80!!!  Now it did allow me to skip a large part of the security line and board the plane first, but everyone knew this was just a way for all the “regulars” to more easily target us.

Now if I was fat(ter) I might have to buy two seats because my girth would be a personal choice and the media would rally behind me with a series of posts about how I was being fat-shamed.  But no one is speaking up for my legs, whose length is solely based on genetics, needing to buy extra space just to feel normal like everyone else’s legs.  How many times can I limp off planes for being cramped in a “regular” seat or endure dirty looks from people sitting in front of me feeling my knees digging into their back?  So, perhaps as payback for our earning power over comparable “regulars” we are now being forced to pay additional fees just to feel normal.

Today I ask that you join me in stopping this.  The height community deserves to use handicapped seats and bathrooms without stigma and we deserve to get extra leg room at no extra cost.   Most importantly we should be allowed to live in peace without being asked our height and career with scornful looks by complete strangers on a daily basis.  They are coming for the tall and if we do nothing well then you know how that slippery slope goes. So please help change happen by tweeting #WeStandWithTheTall

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic, iTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!

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Hosting (but not competing in) a Comedy Contest: Still…

This weekend I hosted a few shows as part of the Laughing Devil Festival in New York City.  I gave up a few years ago on entering comedy contests/festivals because a) I never won and b) no matter how often I said to myself, “Hey, just meet other comedians, have good shows and don’t worry about the contest component,” I would inevitably advance a round or two, which would kick in the competitive juices, just setting up disappointment and “but how did he/she advance based on that set?” sort of attitudes.  I have enough to be hostile, bitter or angry about with comedy without volunteering for more punishment.  But that said, I will gladly get paid to host shows at comedy contests, which is what I did Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday.  And yet I still found myself angry, but for other comedians who did not advance.

Wednesday and Thursday shows were quarterfinal rounds of the contest at Broadway Comedy Club. The crowds were full and the sets were mostly excellent (everyone was doing five minutes sets so they should be excellent or close to).  In Wednesday’s lineup there was a comic from San Francisco who had a terrific set (Kevin Whittinghill), probably my favorite of the show, but he was discussing being divorced and as I heard my laughter getting louder and louder I realized I had given this comic the kiss of death.  If I am enjoying a comedian too much it can mean that the performer has a perspective and tone that may appeal to people with life experience and/or people over the age of 26 who did not arrive in NYC with fanny packs and I Love NY shirts (stop saying “I heart” assholes).  But wishing partial handicaps on the future child of your ex wife who is marrying the man with whom she cheated on you is funny, dark and not something you hear every day from the stage.  Another line I enjoyed (as the comedian mocked modern positivity) was “YOLO, right?  You know what YOLO is? It is from a Drake song and it means you only live once so you might as well write a terrible song.”  I knew the comedian would not advance though. I just had a feeling and I was right.  Not taking anything away from the other comedians, but five advanced and I was really disappointed Whittinghill not deemed top five.  I don’t know if he has any great material after the five minutes I saw and after conversations with him he has not been doing comedy for that long, but seeing a comedian get semi-screwed in a contest started to bring up feelings of my own comedy contest trauma.

Sidebar – I am so tired of the catering the industry is doing to “millennials.” When I was a teen and a young adult I did not need someone who looked like me to tell me jokes, or someone with the same empty thoughts to spout them back at me – I wanted Carlin, Rock, Girlado, etc to tell me their world view, to share their perspective because it was funnier and more interesting than what my friends and I were joking about.  But now in the age of “You’re the best” marketing and people walking into you while texting and tweeting on crowded streets because of their inflated sense of Sun-Revolves-Around-Me syndrome, people want to just give people what they want and what makes them think about themselves. Hence why Comedy Central is always asking “How do bros feel about this comedian?”

The next night I was hosting again and the lineup was even stronger overall than the Wednesday show.  Several people got huge laughs, but the comedian I thought had the best set of the night (Matt Ruby) did not advance.  I have known Ruby for a long time and I was familiar with most of his material, but his set was the best overall – crisp, funny, consistent throughout – like a very strong late night television set.  So for the second night in a row I ended up leaving the contest disappointed that my favorite set each night did not even advance.  I felt like a Vegas cooler – as soon as I endorsed or rallied around a comedian their chances immediately tanked.

The Semi-Finals on Saturday, which I hosted, took place not at Broadway Comedy Club, but at LOL Comedy Club, which takes place in a 5th floor room of a building on 43rd Street and appears to be the place where they will film Saw 8.  The competition was great, but for the 3rd straight show I left frustrated.  The two best sets of the night were rewarded with 1st and 2nd so that was all good (and I believe the person who won the semi-final round I hosted, Drew Michael, went on to win the whole contest and that certainly seemed like a worthy outcome), but two sets I thought were more than deserving of appearances in the finals (Mike Trainor and Jacob Williams) did not move on (this is not to disparage those that advanced or didn’t, but without a horse in the race I was surprised to see a comedian I had ranked 11th out of 12 based on that night’s sets advance to the finals).

So I must say the level of frustration was slightly diminished by not competing and seeing that the winner had delivered strong sets, but this week also showed that I can still get frustrated at seeing other people get semi-screwed over.  I don’t know if this means I am more empathetic than people give me credit for or if I am just angrier at comedy than even I realize.  Or maybe it is both.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic, iTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!

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President Me by Adam Carolla

This past weekend I finished an advance copy (it’s out now anyway) of Adam Carolla’s new book President Me (this not a brag that I somehow receive advance access to popular media – I got it from someone who had access to advance copies of books and I will leave it at that).  It is no secret that I am a fan of Carolla.  I thought his first book, In Fifty Years We’ll All Be Chicks, was non-stop hilarity.  His follow-up, Not Taco Bell Material, had moments of excellence but was not as much of a laugh riot as Chicks.  Well, President Me gets Carolla back to the Chicks approach: less memoir, more observations of the world around him. The result is just about as excellent as Chicks.

Now when it comes to my differences with Carolla, they grow the bigger the issue – i.e. the more macro an issue – taxes, government policy, race relations I tend to deviate from him.  However, when it comes to everyday things, which are the funnier of his observations and the overwhelming majority of the book, I rarely disagree with him.

The difference is in President Me is when I disagree with Carolla there was more of an attempt on his part to address the arguments against his viewpoint (before steamrolling ahead with his view anyway). The best example of this is his support of voter ID laws.  He readily acknowledges the subversive motives of the Republican Party, but then says he just thinks we should have them anyway.  Of course his near-endorsement of a poll tax (requiring everyone to bring a pay stub to the ballot) is a step way too far (but done half for comedic value), but I sort of appreciated that unlike folks from places like Fox News, at least he can say that he thinks something makes sense, even if he acknowledges that the people endorsing it are far from infallible heroes.

The main parts of the book are just laugh out loud funny.  I think his few pages on the proliferation of exposed feet in our society are the funniest things I have read in a while.  I think the main reason I like Carolla so much, despite our political differences, is that his view is “can we have an expansion of rights for everyone, but not a destruction of decorum and decency?” “Can’t things stay old school if old school had it right” sort of approach.  I have said it on a recent album that I feel in many ways I have more in common with my parents’ generation than I do with people in their early 20s.  Carolla may oversimplify some of the big things in our society and government, but on the specifics of every day life he is pretty spot on. And hilarious.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic, iTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!