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Chicago Trip – Part 2

Well after an odd start to the week, Thursday and Friday turned out to be fantastic comedy nights in Chicago.  Let’s start with Thursday night:

Thursday – Great Set, Awkward Sexual Encounters

Thursday was the first show I would give myself an A or an A+.  I felt great, consistent energy throughout the set and great crowd response.  Then the awkward after-show activities began.

As people were leaving the club I stood by the exit handing out my cards.  I try generally not to be too intrusive – sort of a mild encouragement to take one, rather than an automatic hand-off to everyone so that I guarantee at least the people who take one had some affirmative desire to get my contact info.  And sometimes comedy show attendees want to take a picture with you – perhaps it’s my borderline circus height in some cases, other times it might be because they want to remember a comedian they liked or some just want masturbation material.  Well, the only person who asked for a photo after Thursday’s show fell into this third category.  And yes, it was a dude.

During my set, a gentleman raised his hand during my set and attempted to ask a question.  It was rather bizarre since stand up comedy is not usually a Q & A, unless you are some douchey college comedian who tries to “engage the audience with post show discussion on social issues” so that you seem like more than a third-tier college grad who tells base fart and race jokes under the guise of relating to young people.  The guy seemed nice enough so I did not mock him too much for his raising his hand. (by the way I am in the process of trying to do exactly what I just criticized two sentences ago with a couple of racially ambiguous comedians – what a fu*king sell out!)

Well after the show this man, although slightly drunker at this point, came up to me and told me how great I was and asked for a picture.  Now at this point, based on his slight handshake, effeminate facial expressions and erection poking from his khakis I was able to surmise he was gay.  But since I don’t discriminate when it comes to people who like my comedy I said sure.  Well, as his partner tried to take the photo there were some malfunctions which allowed my new fan to keep his arm around me for what would be an uncomfortable amount of time had he been a large breasted women, let alone a dude.   But I had reached a point of no return.  I just had to bear a creepy hand on the small of my back for about 15 seconds or 45 minutes in creepchill factor.

The photo has not been tagged on any Facebook pages yet, but if anyone sees my face in any gay porn photos they are photoshopped.  I am not homophobic, but I am homophotophobic.   An ex of mine once said to me that she thought every straight man should have to hang out in a gay bar so they can experience what women go through with men (because every man apparently wants to alter the sexuality of a woman with an act she finds contrary to her very being? just more dumb woman logic from someone who thought herself smart).  Of course this is the same woman who defended her having had HPV by saying that “all women get it” (official stats – 25% of women contract it, which is only slightly above “all whores get it”).  Needless to say I disagree and won’t be hanging out in any gay bars unless they start buying my CDs.

After the show I went to a local bar with the headliner Jimmy Shubert.  At the bar we were greeted by some fans from the show.  Lets just summarize that part of the evening by saying women take rejection a lot worse than men.  I have a girlfriend and have no intention of coming back to NYC with anything, but a bunch of unsold CDs and 5 more pounds of fast food body weight.  A man has no problem with rejection because, like a sexual terrorist, we only need to be right once.  If a guy hits on 100 women in one night and one of those women agrees to have sexual relations the guy calls the night a huge success.  For a woman, the name of the game is national defense.  Reject everything until she decides that someone is worthy of a vaginal green card.  But if a woman tries to throw herself at a dude and he is not interested for any number of reasons, she is almost invariably a rude nightmare for the rest of the time that you are in the same room.  In this day and age of sexual equality (which is a myth – it’s just women wanting more money at work, less pressure to have kids (which is sometimes a sour grapes reaction to men getting to have more pre-martial sex than earlier generations) and still wanting the man to provide and pick up the tab like it’s still the 1950s) women need to start getting better at handling rejection.

Friday – 2 Great Shows and a Card in the Snow

Friday’s shows were awesome.  Same as Thursday, but even more people in attendance than on Thursday made these shows even more electric (please gay dude from Thursday’s show, if you are on this blog, do not read anything into me using the word electric in my description.  The Rock referred to himself as electrifying and if a buff dude running around in tights on a stage isn’t the model for heterosexuality than I don’t know what is).  Then some fun things after the second show

I have a bit about Big and Tall Stores –

Well, a “rather robust woman,” to quote Shallow Hal,  came up to me with a look that was either “I think he’s funny” or “I fu*king hate him” and said “Just to let you know I give great head to my black boyfriend.”  Only in comedy or pornography could you have done your job well and hear something like this afterwards.

Leaving the club I observed one of my cards on the ground in the snow.  Maybe that woman came back from “Chicago Trip Part 1” came back for revenge.  So no matter how well a night goes in comedy, there is almost always a chance for something to ruin it.  Last night it was seeing my picture on the snowy ground of Chicago.

3 big shows tonight at Zanies – 7, 9, 11 pm

My final Chicago write up will be Monday when I return to NYC.

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Squeezing Into A Costume

A few years ago I was attending a Halloween party, but I did not have a costume.  I went to all the large stores that emerge in Manhattan like a plague in October every year to look for a costume.  There even was a section of pre-packaged costumes in the “large male” section or whatever they called it.  And everyone of the costumes in the pituitary affliction section said  -“will fit men up to 6’4″ tall.”  If you read this blog, know my jokes or have met me since I turned 19 you know that I am 6’7″.  It was that day that I had literally outgrown Halloween.

Comedy is starting to feel like a Halloween store to me.  Like a 6’4″ shooting guard in the NBA I am starting to feel like I have no position.  Sometimes I like to make political jokes, sometimes I like sharp social commentary, sometimes I like doing impressions and sometimes I like making the occasional crude joke.  But that is what you get when your favorite comedians range from Chris Rock to Jim Norton to Jerry Seinfeld to Patric O’Neal to Gary Gulman to Bill Hicks to Greg Giraldo.  I like different styles and I just like to write funny things.  Perhaps I should just get a job writing for comedians, except my ego is not ready to give up the stage or to submit my writing to potential overwhelming rejection.

Last night I received a very precise and helpful critique from a club owner regarding my set.  Without getting into specifics, it is clear that to make it in comedy I am going to have to choose a persona and style and be consistent within it.  For example after 7 minutes of jokes that are detailed, sharp, clever and clean, it was not consistent closing with a joke about Moms pimping photos of their kids on Facebook and masturbating to the photos just on principle.  The joke got a big laugh, but was slightly out of sorts with the rest of my set.

The thing that makes me sad about this is that comedy is no different than acting.  Live at Gotham had made that brutally evident to me after being passed over several seasons and then watching a show that looked like they were trying to re-cast The Hangover (sans Bradley Cooper), no matter what sacrifices had to be made occasionally in the comedy department.  Humor is still important of course, but I had always hoped that I would not have to necessarily be a niche performer – that I could just say funny things and if a few happened to be dirty or provocative, or if a few were clean and a few others were socially critical I could do it if the crowd laughed.   Basically because I hate niche comedians.  And I don’t want to be them.  For all the frustrations I have with comedy it would be unforgivable to become one of them.

One of the other critiques I got was that I sometimes come off as “a bit of a dick” on stage. 

No sh*t. 

Fu*k Halloween.

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Greg Giraldo: An Appreciation

Yesterday my favorite comedian, Greg Giraldo, died from a drug overdose.   The first time I saw Giraldo perform was at the Columbus Funny Bone.  I was in law school at the time and was visiting my then-girlfriend in Ohio.  It was only my second time to a comedy club and he delivered the goods.  The guy clearly had a great mind, but also the talent to convey his strong opinions on subjects without alienating audience members (though at this point he was big enough in comedy to bring some of his own audience).  I would start doing comedy shortly thereafter and Giraldo has been the standard I have measured myself against ever since.

 

He was an attorney before pursuing comedy, but it was not just personal parallels that I felt connected to.  It was the sharp way he took down people and institutions without once seeming like one of the lefty zealot Carlin-wannabe hacks that dominate the political discourse in comedy these days.  To borrow from politics, he thought like a liberal, but seemed to deliver from the center.

What bothers me most about the loss of Giraldo is that I wonder if the comedy climate will allow or develop another comic in the same mold as Giraldo.  More than ever I feel like comedy is about niche markets.  The more people I see getting breaks these days, the more I feel like producers are simply trying to re-create The Hangover – if you look half crazy (Alans), nerdy (Stus) or are very telegenic (Phils) you are even money.  And if you are a social critic, “truth” is acceptable as long as it is is delivered by some far left, “daring and brave” comic who preaches consistently to his own choir, but beyond that – good luck.

But Giraldo was the comic who achieved success while not fitting any mold or focus group.  He could mock the Church in one joke and then mock gay marriage in the next and never feel preachy about either.  He was just a comedian who could look on the handsome side of normal (when not disheveled), speak intelligently without being consistently left or right, and could just write the best fu*king jokes.  He was just so good as a comedian that he did not need a niche.  I hate when I read about him being pigeon-holed as an “insult comic.”  He was so much more than that.  But even Giraldo, a comedian who while alive did not need a niche to make it big, is now being shelved into a niche so he can be neatly categorized in death.

But I wonder if the direction of modern culture will restrict or constrain the next Giraldo (or the next great comedian to be inspired by Giraldo’s voice) from reaching his or her potential.  Much like I never think another Michael Jordan can be fostered because nowadays anyone with Jordan’s talent would be exalted as a superhero from the age of 14 (see LeBron James) and would thereby lack the insecurity, drive, and chip-on-shoulder syndrome that drove Jordan.  Similarly, Giraldo came up in a pre-Twitter, pre-Facebook age in comedy, where a comedian’s mind was his chat room, complete with insecurities and fears, which, for anyone who read the Psychology Today article featuring Giraldo, knows helped drive him, even if he never felt as focused as he should have been.

Now, more than ever, comedy, especially for up and comers, is a big circle jerk of artificial support and well wishing and just generally a cyber world of sycophants.  Anyone who has been to an open mic in NYC knows that there is such a cliquish and tribal nature that is utterly nauseating.    Giraldo was so deep in his own head, at least from what I read about him, that he fell into addiction.  But sometimes I feel like great comedy can only be borne from minds that go into places that most people don’t like venture into.  Instead the comedy world I live in is full of young comics with lots of friends, lots of “likes”, and lots of meaningless drivel.

My favorite compliments I have ever received as a comedian were the few times when people have told me that my comedy reminded them of Greg Giraldo.  It meant that I was funny and what I was saying actually had meaning.  One time a club manager asked me who my favorite comedians were and the first answer I had was Giraldo.  He dismissed my choice and replied that Giraldo was not making nearly the money that some other comedians were making.  And I replied that that spoke poorly of clubs and the business, not of Giraldo.

I abhor people’s inability to have feelings anymore without posting a Tweet or status update.  I felt no need to express what I felt about Giraldo yesterday because anyone who is worth anything intellectually or comedically would mourn the loss of Giraldo and his immense talent and originality.  But since I am a comedian and I had not written anything in a while I figured readers or fans of this blog would not know me as a comedian without knowing how I felt about Giraldo.

I remember when I lived on the Upper West Side a few years ago I was working out at Equinox on 92nd st and Broadway and I saw Greg Giraldo on an elliptical machine.  I had never actually met him and I was very excited.   I smiled at him and pointed as if to say “Hey – I’m a big fan.” He removed his headphones and sort of nodded a thanks and that was the only exchange.  I guess if I had known all his internal struggles I would have told him he was worth more than a drug addiction and that he meant a lot to me and to a lot of people.   He may have just written a joke about some weird, preachy douchebag at the gym.   But maybe he just didn’t hear that enough.

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The Obama Showdown: Jay Pharoah vs. J-L

As Saturday Night Live prepares for its 36th Season with a monopoly on late night comedy viewing on Saturdays (which sometimes feels like the way the Detroit Lions still have an inexplicable and indefensible hold on Thanksgiving Day football) there has been a lot of buzz from the Huffington Post via The Comic’s Comic blog about a 22 year old comedy phenom named Jay Pharoah who claims to have (and is being claimed to have) a great Obama impression.  Now he is 22 years old so he has clearly paid the dues in the comedy business that every comedian is told they have to pay, so I don’t begrudge him his hard earned buzz and success, but I do take umbridge at his Obama impression, which is good compared to exactly one person, Fred Armisen.

Now a while back I sort of abandoned impressions because I was more interested in exploring personal matters on stage and not setting up tons of scenarios that allowed me to showcase impressions.  I had a ton of traditional and non-traditional impressions that I was proud of, but I sort of grew out of them.  But the one I still use as my closer is Barack Obama because there are no well known good ones.  It is probably the best impression I do and it kills every time.  In fact I almost got a manager based solely on the strength of it.

So I have done as much as I can to promote it without the help of a manager and the comedy bloggers, but it has not caught on beyond individual comedy club audiences and my family.

But to watch this guy do Obama is like seeing someone urinate on my comedy.  My friend comedian Jim Dodge told me he did not want to send me the clip for fear that my head would explode.  It just is not good.  To quote Zoolander’s Jacobim Mugatu, “Am I taking crazy pills?”  Of course if Jay Pharoah gets SNL, he will no doubt be groomed into the Eddie Murphy-Chris Rock mold and will receive praise for his “great impression” simply because it is not Fred Armisen.

This is not the usual “oh he did that joke and I cannot do it now” quandry that happens to lots of comedians.  This is a “I do it better than him and it’s obvious, but I do not have the means or know-how to become a ‘YouTube sensation'” situation.  I cannot fault Jay Pharoah – he is just trying to get his and make people laugh, but has Lorne Michaels become Joe Paterno in his talent evaluation?

So if Mr. Pharoah gets to do Obama on SNL, move on to a lucrative comedy career of headlining clubs, starring movies and doing cocaine with strippers I will be forced to challenge him the way Clubber Lang hounded Rocky Balboa, standing outside SNL offices demanding to know why he keeps ducking me.

And despite appearing mostly white I am much closer in resemblance to Obama (not to mention a black Dad from a foreign country and a white Mom, sound familiar) – this guy looks like a small Justin Tuck from the NY Giants.  People will rejoice because he is black and Fred Armisen is undetermined racially, but lowered expectations should not a comedy career make.

So I guess if you are reading this – I will provide you with links to my video and to Jay Pharoah’s video of Obama impressions and then write to your Congressman, your Senator and to Lorne Michaels to get me an Obama showdown.  And forward my video to people.  It’s 90 fu*king seconds for God’s sake so try to do me this one favor if you read this and let people know. Pretend like I’m Betty White or something.

Jay Pharoah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkZgHjmBlvE

J-L Cauvin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaU77LQS0VM

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Open Mic Lesson For Non-Comics

In an AC/DC song entitled “It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock n roll” (one of 1,145 songs of AC/DC with the word “rock” in the title) they describe the hardships of being a band on the rise.  Well if there was a comedy song describing the sad reality of being a comic on the rise (or at least thinking him or herself on the rise) it would probably be called “You can’t even see the top from the Wednesday open mic at New York Comedy Club.”

One lesson I have learned in comedy is that you cannot have any pride.  I am not talking about pride in your jokes, etc. – of course you need that, but you cannot have too much pride to say no to any space with a microphone and time for you because every opportunity is at least a chance to practice.   But sometimes there are experiences that challenge that philosophy.  Yesterday was one of those.  Let this be a glimpse, albeit an awful one, even by open mic standards, into a random open mic night.  In comedy it seems that practice makes perfect, but it also makes you hate life.

I arrived at the mic a few minutes late and observed a comic, who I will not name, but let’s say that Vegas has 3-2 odds that he has bodies buried in his basement (imagine what the Crypt Keeper would have looked like three weeks before losing the last layer of skin and muscle).   As I walk in he is saying in his characteristic delivery (think schizophrenic): “so that is when she came in my mouth.”  The 7 comics sitting laugh, more at the horror than the actual punchline.

The next comic up, who will also remain nameless, is approximately 109 years old.  Before I say he was not that great, or anything like that, I am aware that he is more likely than me to get some sort of reality series for himself, probably about an old man following his dreams, probably airing on Discovery called “It’s Never Too Late.”

Then a young man got up (the second time he had ever done stand-up).  He said he did not want to dig into sad or painful things, at which point the emcee wanted to know what they were because pain can often be a good source of comedy.  Then we learned how unfunny a miscarriage actually is.

Next up was a gay guy who had some funny lines, one of which was asking me if I was mulatto.  I told him yes, but I preferred the more modern term of half-negro.  He then had to run to a Broadway show.  Seriously.

Next to last was a comic I have known for a few years.  He got a couple of laughs from the paltry audience of comics and then it was time for me to go.

So I took the gun out of my mouth and went up and did my set.  Now doesn’t comedy sound fun??

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Rock of Ages

 

Is 80s music the official soundtrack of d-bags?

 

Last night I was taken to Rock of Ages for my birthday.  It was an incredibly well-thought out gift (which makes sense because it was the same gift-giver who got me a Paul Millsap official game jersey for Valentine’s Day) because of my semi-obsession with American Idol (the play stars Constantine Maroulis – the most absurd American Idol finalist not named Sanjaya) and the fact that the play features a couple dozen rock anthems from the 1980s, a/k/a my favorite music.

The theater was packed last night, but I noticed some things that intrigued me.  One was the woman sitting one row behind me.  On a scale of 1 to 10, she was a 14.  Literally looked like a model/movie star.  But what made me a little sad was that there was a 90% chance that she was a prostitute.  She was there with a below average looking guy in his mid 40s (she looked about 26).  Now my first inclination was that she was just a gold digger, but if that was the case, the guy would have been trying to show off with orchestra seats (instead of the balcony where we all were).  Second, I heard her speak and she did not have a foreign accent, which ruled out some sort of mail-order/Green Card situation.  Third, the guy sitting next to her client/man was talking to them and had his hand on her hip, the way two customers at a video store could look at the same box for a video before both renting it.   I cannot be completely sure that she was a prostitute, but I can surmise that she has a terrible relationship with her father (I ruled this option out when I saw them kissing, unless he is her father, but most fathers not named Joe Simpson or Michael Lohan would not let their daughter go out for a father-daughter night out dressed like a Bond girl.

The other thing I noticed is how many douchebags were in the audience.  There was never a shortage of men between 30 and 45 hooting and high fiving and saying “fu-k yeah!” during the 2+ hours of the production.  And I realized that I love 80s music as well, which raised an important question for me: Am I a douchebag?  Or is it just a sad coincidence that I enjoy the same music as these former coke abusing, date raping, collar popping, former “cool kids?”  having come to the conclusion that I am more an as-hole than a douchebag I can say safely that our similarities end with 80s music.

Overall a good show, but a questionable audience.

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The Curious Case of J-L Cauvin

I get older and taller, but things remain the same.

If anyone saw the film The Curious Case of Benjamin Button then you know that the plot focuses on the adventures of one man as he ages in reverse.  As I stand on the cusp of entering my 4th decade on Planet Earth I realize my life has sort of played like a remix of that movie.  Each decade I get older, but my life does not seem to change.

April 24, 1989

I turned 10 years old on this date.  I was 5’5″ tall.  I owned a purple satin Utah Jazz Starter jacket that I wore religiously.  I was honing a Jean-Claude Van Damme impression that would make me more popular.  I did not have a job, but knew I wanted to be something famous.  My favorite movie was Amadeus.

April 24, 1999

I turned 20 years old on this date.  I was 6’7″ tall.  I owned a puffy purple Utah Jazz Starter jacket that I wore religiously.  I was perfecting impressions of my basketball coaches which would make me more popular.  I did not have a job, but I felt like one day I could be famous.  My favorite movie was still Amadeus.

April 24, 2009

I turn 30 on this date.  I am 6’7″ tall.  I own several Utah Jazz basketball jerseys that I wear occasionally (as people get older they sometimes get less religious).  I have perfected an impression of Barack Obama that has made me more tolerable.  I sort of have a means of employment, but only one that people will take seriously if I become famous.  My favorite movie is Amadeus.

Fine, I'll watch Amadeus, but I probably won't like it.
Fine, I’ll watch Amadeus, but I probably won’t like it.
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Crank 2: A Film Ahead of Jason Statham’s Time

My comedy career began officially in June 2003 when I stepped on stage at the Takoma Station Tavern in Washington D.C. for their Monday open mic.  However, my comedy career really began in 1991 when my impression of Jean-Claude Van Damme in the movie Double Impact made me a big hit with my friends (quick synopsis of the film – Van Damme played twins separated at birth, with”such different personalities” as JCVD put it in a behind the scenes interview, but who both learned karate).

Van Damme was my favorite movie star from the years 1990-1995 (from when I saw Bloodsport until Timecop and all the films in between).  His films were mild successes, but he basically became a joke like many action stars not named Governor Schwarzenegger.  It was not until this Fall that he was able to intentionally and intelligently capitalize on his status with a funny, but moderately moving film (“JCVD”).

Well today I hope there is a 6th grader entertaining  his classmates with a Jason Statham impression.  This guy has literally taken the career of Jean-Claude Van Damme.  I have wondered (on this site, and verbally) how Statham has sustained his career.  Then I saw a preview for Crank 2 and was intrigued.  It looked ridiculous, but entertaining.  But that still did not explain Statham’s 2 franchises (3 Transporters and counting, plus 2 Cranks) and other flops (some movie about prisoners in car races, some dumb movie where he plays some ancient knight), especially since he had to have spent all his Italian Job money by now, so he can be financing his own projects.  In addition to that my old boss at the Bronx DA’s office had recommended Crank to me.

My old boss had a bad history recommending films to me.  One was The Boondock Saints, which I absolutely hated.  The other one was Norbit (I was in Columbus, Ohio with 7 hours to kill before a show – I would have been better off cleaning the Mall toilets with my tongue than watching that movie).  So when he told me Crank was good I greeted it with a roll of the eyes.

But last week I watched Crank and found it entertaining.  It is somewhere between action and parody and was entertaining enough for me to venture to Crank 2 today (and I had a free ticket to the theater).

I must say – reallly enjoyable movie.   Had me laughing a lot because the film has moved even closer to parody and if you want to go, not to watch film or even a technically “good” movie, but just to have fun, then see this movie.

Although the similarities between Van Damme and Statham are even more evident after Crank 2 (Statham has 4-5 references to his character’s large penis in the 2 Cranks and Van Damme has a reference in no less than 3 of his films to his character’s large member – see “The Idiot From Brussels” track on Racial Chameleon, my first CD).  But Statham’s films have not been as successful as even the moderate-to-low bar that Van Damme’s career set.  So the question must be asked:  Why does Jason Statham still have a thriving film career?  One answer is that Lion’s Gate films appear to be willing to produce any film.  But I think the answer is that Statham has decided (possibly) to do what it took JCVD almost 20 years to do – realize that the pure action star is almost dead as a serious franchise (the Arnolds, Stallones, etc. are sort of done), so he pre-empted the trend and made the joke his own, while still having some of the classic action features.  I don’t know if he will make many more movies, but I am pretty sure I would be in for a good laugh if Crank 3 comes out.

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The New Yankee Stadium

If you thought the American Pastime needed more meatpacking district influence – here’s your baseball stadium.

A couple of days ago I received an amazing investment opportunity in the mail.  If I invest the GDP of a small country I can receive some entertaining sports surrounded by all the bells and whistles of a Manhattan club delivered in the form of a product that has had diminishing returns over the last decade.  That’s right I received my Yankees prospectus a/k/a ticket information and fan guide in the mail.

Like General Motors the Yankees have cost the American taxpayer more while providing less over the last several years.  There are several problems I have which were only augmented by the mailing I received.

The Prices

The Yankees, my second favorite team in all of sports, belong up there with the executives who received bonuses from AIG.  The ticket prices are absurd – it literally feels like what a night out to a Broadway play was before Broadway had to sell out to get seats filled in the theaters.  Baseball was not supposed to be high society  – it was supposed to be a day or night for families and working class folks who could enjoy entertainment with superstars without a bank loan or a blow job being involved.  There are now six (that’s six) special tiers of tickets for which the prospectus does not even list prices.   Presumably because they are so special and elite that only people with American Express black cards can even hear the prices without going deaf.

The Bronx

The Stadium was completely unnecessary and with the economy as it is , completely irresponsible.  What’s worse is that with the hollow promises brokered by the Yankees and the city and in part by former Bronx Borough President Adolpho Carrion, the Yankees got a subsidized stadium and in the process destroyed a massive, well-attended park with no equivalent replacement in waiting.  In one of the poorest communities in America, do you think destroying a quality outlet like a park with softball/baseball/soccer fields, a track and all sorts of other amenities is a wise decision?

The other promises that are often made – pumping money into the community, a school structured for high school students interested in sports management, etc.  seem to not be panning out.  Even worse is that all the restaurants (NYY Steak, Hard Rock Cafe) will actually probably take from the local businesses that thrived with the extra customers coming in for games.  Why would a tourist try local fare when they can go to the more familiar and ethnically-cleansed Hard Rock Cafe.

I would also love to know if Bronx residents were given priority for jobs created by the stadium and all its surrounding new businesses.  The Bronx has the highest unemployment rate in the city and this could have been an opportunity to make a small dent in it (very small, but at least meaningful as a step that says the Yankees will give something back – even if it is only salaries earned).

The Stadium

This thing looks beautiful.  Plush lounges, high end suites, a sports bar in centerfield, numerous quality food retailers at the stations in the stadium are just a few of the upgrades.  Hell, there’s so much at the Stadium that if they have a store producing Latino people they could render the Bronx completely obsolete.  However, isn’t this a fu-king baseball game?

Will there be a cover charge on top of tickets and techno blaring as you enter the stadium and some giant black dude frisks you and some sleazy grown-up prep school kid asks you if you party?  The American pastime should not be so slick and corporate looking.  People used to go to baseball games for the game – but now it seems that Manhattan spirit of needing to be seen has officially immersed itself in the Bronx, even if that immersion does not spread 20 feet outside the Stadium.  Now you can say “I have tickets to the Yankees” and it can mean more than “I like baseball and the Yankees.”  Now it can mean “I like status symbols and high fives.”  It won’t be long until Yankee fans become, due to financial restrictions and character depletion, like an LA Dodgers Crowd – famous for arriving in the 3rd inning and leaving in the 7th inning.

The old stadium used to be called The House That Ruth Built.  This one seems to be destined for The Club That Douchebags Inhabit.  Or maybe in the spirit of its apparent inspiration, just call it Stadium.  Or Douche.

I have my tickets for May 18th.

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Will Tell Jokes For Food

The toughest part of comedy is not in telling or writing jokes, at least for me.  The toughest part I have is with the marketing/self-promotion/getting actual money for doing comedy.  For example I am in the finals of a competition at Caroline’s where if I win I get a paid weekend opening for someone.  If I finished second, third or fourth I get to go home and take out my unpaid frustration in a game of Wii Tennis.

I have also received my fair share of guest spots, which translated into layman’s terms is, “You are pretty funny, but we have no real incentive to pay you and you cannot afford to refuse an unpaid spot because you secretly believe that you will be discovered, or at least appreciated by management and/or talent scouts, who are unlikely to be watching you.”  And that is true.

So the way to make money for an up and coming comic like myself is to take the show on the road.  Unfortunately this is proving rather difficult.  Here have been some of my favorite responses that I have received personally or through someone acting on my behalf:

“Please stop with the e-mails.  We will contact YOU if we are interested.” – this was sent after an obnoxious series of two e-mails sent a week apart (one with clips and one following up a week later – how rude of me).

“What do you bring to our club and how will you increase business?”- hopefully jokes

“He should just buy a car and travel the country for two years stopping by clubs.  Is he Jewish?  No, then he’s fu-ked.  He will probably have to get used to sucking men’s di-ks.” – yes this is an actual conversation that took place (mostly tongue-in-cheek, as opposed to cock-in-cheek),  apparently Hollywood casting agents have now re-located to help run comedy clubs in the Midwest.

The best part is that two of these quotes came from what are known as “B clubs” meaning not the city’s primary venue for stand up comedy.  That is not a knock on these places, but goes to show that some of these clubs seem to have a Napoleonic complex.  And it introduces a Catch 22.  I would love to tell clubs that cannot act or respond with some decency or respect to go fu-k themselves or threaten some sort of No Country For Old Men-style cross country trip, but they do have the power and they hold the keys to what I want – a chance to tell lots of people my jokes and to get paid for it.

I’d like to think that if I ever attained star status or mega star status that I would vilify the reputations of these clubs or simply buy them and bulldoze them, a la the trailer home of Jenny at the end of Forrest Gump, but that probably won’t happen for two reasons.  I will be too busy counting Benjamins and the clubs will be too busy kissing my ass (hence the Catch 22 – I lash out now I never attain success.  I attain success – reason for lashing out abates).  But as someone who was able to maintain a healthy grudge against their high school basketball coach for over a decade (not to mention how long I will get material out of more recent slights) I think my friends can attest that if anyone can hold on to that morbid fantasy in spite of success it is me.

But in the meantime anyone know where I can get some cheap knee pads?