A Swift Kick in the Ass

Hey there ‘Redheads… For those of you expecting the blog yesterday, I apologize. For those of you who don’t really give a goddamn, help those in the previous sentence lower their expectations, will ya? It’s exhausting trying to live up to your completely ficticious standards…I mean, really.
If this week’s installment were to have a theme, it would be goals. Setting them, reaching them, and kicking them. I’m happy to report that my goal of getting to the gym and following through on a regimen of walking in place, lifting and putting down heavy objects, and sweating like a hack telling an “I’m sweating like…” joke, is going just swimmingly. I’ve gone three times in the past week and, despite my muscles screaming at me like Axl Rose with a thorn in his paw on the off days, I think I’ll be able to keep it up. Long dormant muscle groups are rubbing the crust out of their eyes and asking me what year it is…my delts think Bob Hope is still alive…that’ll be tough breaking that news. Once this becomes a regular part of my weekly routine, I’m hoping the soreness will ebb slightly…praying, actually. But, no matter the minor psychological or physical obstacle, I can’t quit. I’ve found something that provides me with the against-all-odds motivation to soldier on. What is this, you ask?
I rarely impart advice to comedians in this blog. Please, take the following statement and make it a part of your daily comedic activity: Read the newspaper. Dead medium? P’shaw. For, if I wasn’t flipping through the Metro section of last Friday’s Washington Post, I wouldn’t have found this gem…

The D.C. Knights left town with a soccer ball and a dream. And when they returned to the homeless shelter where they live, one of those had been deflated.

For two months, the four men and one woman had practiced on the Mall to take part in a national soccer tournament for homeless people, held last weekend in Charlotte.

Yes, you read that correctly…homeless soccer. There are only 5 people per team, but at least one of them thinks they’re Jesus Christ, so it all evens out. This is inspirational. Think of what these homeless soccer teams have to overcome. The most obvious, EVERY game is away. Some of these guys and gals are actually pretty good. I’m sure there’s a homeless David Beckham…a homeless Mia Hamm…sorta like Bizarro World. Just like in regular soccer, after winning, they take off their shirts…but then they follow it up with a bottle shower and taking a shit on the pitch. I think this would make a great movie, don’t you? It’ll be like Cool Runnings but with nappier hair. If you’d like to find out more about these ragtag competitors, you can find more info at HomelessSoccer.org. Yes, the have a homeless page (sometimes, I amaze even myself). Oh, but I’ve left out the best part…

The best eight players were selected to attend the Homeless World Cup next month in Johannesburg.

There’s a homeless World Cup…it’s filled with soup, apparently. Y’know nothing instills national pride like knowing who has the superior indigent. You’d think the world’s homeless would try to somehow defect to the U.S. team. I think that’s exactly the kind of huddled masses the Statue of Liberty is referring to. Hopefully, the ultimate prize is something they can use…like SHELTER!! I think they’d trade in the teamwork and sense of empowerment for a fucking roof that isn’t corrugated. Oy vey.

While we’re in the vein of our society’s need to feel empowered, here’s a sample of a new Comedy Central show, Special Unit, starring Christopher Titus and local comedy great, Mike Aronin. Enjoy…

That’s just part 1 of 3. I hope this show gets greenlit…so working with Mike will seem more impressive.

Before I sign off, here’s your comedy homework…

Ride the Poon.

To be continued…

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