Blog #42

Hey ‘Redheads… I’d like to begin this blog by saying whatever it is that I did, I’m sorry. Just a blanket apology to the universe because, apparently, I angered someone on a cosmic level. I was punished last night. Around 2:00am, my brain decided to update its profile on…a place for agonizing pain. It felt like the left side of my brain was trying to secede from the Union and the new anthem was being sung by Geddy Lee and Bjork. For those of you who get migraines, you know there is a simple, three step method for dealing with them: 1) Turn out all the lights. 2) Curl up into the fetal position. 3) Weep. I tried killing it with pills, smothering it with pillows, but I was able to finally able to quash the rebellion in my head by stumbling to the bathroom and drowning it under a steaming hot, hour-long shower. I was pruny but less…painy. It was the combination of the near sensory deprivation and the constant stream of water that was able to diffuse the blinding pain from my head…back into my soul, where it belongs.

I’m still trying to piece together what led to this three hour ordeal. Perhaps it was my Disney Aristocrats joke from the previous post (I didn’t mean for it to come out like that…I meant to include the frozen head of Walt Disney and Pinnochio’s nose…but, what’s done is done). Or, perpahps it was Thursday, when I journeyed to Catholic University to be a judge in the latest round of the DC Improv’s District’s Funniest College competition. I judged three Catholic students by the same criteria that they’ll be assessed by when they reach the Pearly Gates: stage presence, originality of material, and audience reaction. The first two guys were pretty funny. The third guy, who apparently gave up original thought for lent, told 5 minutes of Mike Birbiglia jokes. After the competition portion was over, the other judges, fellow pillars of the DC scene, Chris White and Ryan Connor, and myself did some time while the scores were tabulated. Despite my fear of bursting into flames when I hit the stage and the student body realized I had no alibi, I had a fun time in front of the crowd. I did, however, violate a cardinal rule of stand-up: Know thy enemy, er, audience. I realized, as I was telling my birth control patch joke, that the Catholic crowd maybe wasn’t with me. It was a little like telling my Outback Steakhouse joke at Hindu U.

While this blog ponders the wrath of the Almighty and how it relates to my headache (wow, do I have to get over myself), allow me to share with you my theory on God and the afterlife. I’m not a very religious guy. I’m Jewish, but I don’t practice much anymore…nagging injury (enjoy a double helping of entendre). Regardless of your faith, this is how I think the afterlife works. Everyone gets a shot at being God…not just Morgan Freeman. From the most selflessly righteous to the most deplorably evil. When you die, your soul takes the controls until the next person shuffles off the mortal coil. Sort of like an omnipotent MP3 player…an iGod, if you will. Back in biblical times, there were fewer people, so people got to take the reigns for longer periods of time, allowing for miracles, smiting, etc. These days, people are gone from the control room before they even realize they were there.

A couple of my other comic brethren, Chris White and Danny Rouhier (whose blogs are conveniently linked to your right), have expressed their undying devotion to 24. I’m also a fan. It’s the only show on TV that I actually make it a point to sit down and watch every week. This season has been one of the better ones, if for nothing else than the high body count. Plot holes aside, the only thing that has me scratching my head is their choice of guest stars this season… The head terrorist is Julian Sands from Warlock. CTU’s primary suspect is Peter Weller…many have nicknamed him RoboCop, but to me he will always be Buckaroo Banzai (I have it on good authority that the terrorist who infiltrated CTU was named John Smallberries…god, I’m a dork). Kim’s boyfriend is C. Thomas Howell…the fuckin’ Soul Man. Not to mention head of The Goonies, Mikey Walsh as the recently deposed Lynn McGill. When did 24 become I Love The 80’s? The only way to make the circle complete, is if the head terrorist mastermind turns out to be this guy…

Put Jack in a body bag, Johnny!

To be continued…

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