A Murder/Suicide of Crows

Hey there ‘Redheads… Thanks for feigning interest for a fourth day in a row. I have to admit, it’s tough coming up with stuff for this thing on a daily basis. Or maybe I’m just lazy. That’s probably it. Well, to help back that up, I offer you a video to fill your mild amusement needs for today. A video that fills me with hope. Please enjoy this sketch from the BBC show, The One Ronnie, that compares favorably to another classic British sketch, The Dead Parrot Sketch from Monty Python…

Speaking of dead parrots, is anyone else concerned about the recent rash of birds losing the fight with gravity recently? They’re taking dives like they were paid off by Don King (there’s a timely reference for ya). What gives? I’ve heard multiple explanations, from military microwave testing to bird cults, but none of it makes much sense. All of the medical examiners’ reports say that the birds, “showed signs of trauma”. Yeah, that’s what happens when you FALL FROM THE SKY. All of it seems like an M. Night Shyamalan rough draft. Here’s something creepy. In that town in Arkansas, where the first mass swan dive occurred, the population is only 4800 people. 5000 birds died. That’s more dead birds than live people. Enjoy your bucket of KFC. I’ll do some more investigating and get back to you.

See you tomorrow…

Hearing Voices

Hey there, ‘Redheads… I’m trying to squeeze in a quick blog under the wire, to keep the streak alive at three. Happy Hump Day to ya. As happy as it can be, considering I did not hit the MegaMillions jackpot last night. Two lucky bastards in Idaho and Washington State now have the gross national product of Bolivia at their disposal. All is not lost, though. Opportunities pop up where you least expect them to. Take this guy, for example…

Thanks to this viral video, that guy, Ted Williams, is getting job offers from all over the world, including the Cleveland Cavaliers, ESPN, and the NFL. I think it’s great. I’m thinking of pitching a tent on the beltway to try to get some voicework, myself. The natural fit for him would be the host of a brand new game show, Homeless People Will Have Talent For Food. It’s funny to me that the media latches on to human interest stories like this. Show them a person that society has literally tossed to the curb with the slightest glint of humanity in their eye and it’s an uplifting story and people should give this man a job. I’m sure the guy selling flowers on the side of the road might be able to juggle. Why not toss him some temp work? Here’s a thought, why don’t we just help these people without asking them to sing “Puttin’ on the Ritz” first.

To be continued…

Jackpotting

Hey there, ‘Redheads… The streak continues. Two days, two blogs. For now, it’s only coincidence. Tomorrow it’ll be a trend. Or, by tomorrow, I’ll be a mega-millionaire and washing down my Faberge egg omelet with Dom Perignon out of a Ming vase. That’s right, the Mega Millions jackpot is up to a whopping 330 million smackeroos. I’ve got five dollars worth of false hope that says I’ll be doing the Scrooge McDuck back stroke. How can I be so sure? Ancient Chinese secret. I’m playing my fortune cookie numbers. Numbers that have failed me in the past, but they were merely biding their time, waiting for the jackpot to reach a level where I can live comfortably once Uncle Sam takes his cut. Yesterday, I ate at an Asian fusion restaurant. It was just Asian food, but the place was nuclear powered. But I digress, because I can. It’s my blog. With a fortune like this, how can I fail?


The big question everyone is asking themselves is, “What will you do with the money?” For some, the answer is charity. For others, the answer is family. Not me. I’m going to buy an eye patch and hire some henchmen, because I’ve been itching to be someone’s arch nemesis and all I’ve lacked is the funding. If I do win the money, I’ll tell you one thing I won’t do. Play in a 3-4 defense. Albert was right, that’s for suckers. Until I’m catapulted to a higher tax bracket, I’ll stay huddled among the tired masses who feel the universe owes us a cosmic solid.

To be continued…

Round Up 1.3.11

Hey there, ‘Redheads… First day back to work in 2011 and my goal of daily blog posts is going swimmingly so far. This will be a cheap way for you to fulfill that new year’s resolution to read more while also neglecting the resolution to get more done during the day. Addition by distraction. I hope everyone bid adieu to 2010 in a rollicking fashion. My eve was spent sowing the seeds of a wicked hangover with good friends. We turned on the TV in time to see ABC wheel out Dick Clark to bum everybody out before the ball dropped. I know that New Year’s Eve is his thing, but seeing him is like seeing one of those ASPCA commercials with the abused and neglected animals. We realize they mean well, but it’s just depressing.

Speaking of pointlessly depressing displays, the Redskins’ season is mercifully over. Just to give you an idea of how crappy the Skins were this year, even if they were in the NFC West they still wouldn’t have made the playoffs. But this is the beginning of the most interesting part of any Redskin season in the last ten years, the off season. Rampant speculation about free agency and player job security is a cottage industry in DC. False hope is sold like foam fingers by this franchise. Expunge the pariah du jour and bring in another name that looked good on a fantasy team in 2005. Here’s my pick to click for the playoffs. Super Bowl XLV will be a rematch of Super Bowl I: Packers vs. Chiefs. Book it.

In the waning hours of 2010, I spotted this headline on the back page of the Style section of The Washington Post:

‘Octomom’ eviction on hold as landlord meets with porn producer

Allow me to sum up her situation, “Let these guys in or get out.” This is a convoluted Snidely Whiplash scenario. Instead of tying the damsel to the train tracks because she can’t pay the mortgage, the guy twirling his mustache is paying the mortgage so the damsel can have a train run on her. It’s mildly ironic, considering how many kids she’s evicted. All that’s left is to figure out the title of her porn debut. Eight Isn’t Enough, Octopussy, and Cockto Mom are all possibilities. Stay classy, Nadya…

Some sad news this morning as actor, Pete Postlethwaite, lost his battle with cancer. One of the best nebulous accents in showbiz. If you don’t know the name, you definitely know the face and the voice, recently in The Town and Inception, best known for his role in The Usual Suspects. Mr. Kobayashi, we hardly knew ye…

By the way, if anyone out there is looking to move to or near downtown Silver Spring, please to check out this listing of the former Stately Stern Manor.

To be continued…

2010 Year End Spectacular…or something

Hey there ‘Redheads… Once again, I’ve gone off the grid and left the wellspring of my thoughts dry as a bone. Well, I’m back to wrap up 2010, so you may drink from the dixie cup of my brain drizzle. Recently, I’ve just been using Facebook as a repository for my random observations, but that hardly helps you, my hopefully still loyal readers. My plan for 2011 is to reroute my postings on Facebook through this blog, creating a digital synergy not seen since my Roomba ate my remote control. This will mean multiple daily blurbs as opposed to the longer weekly or once a fortnight entries that I’ve been foisting upon you. We’ll see how long that lasts. I give it a week, tops. This is all a last ditch effort to draw more eyeballs in my general direction. If the right pair of eyeballs sees me flailing about on here, maybe I can attain Antoine Dodson-like celebrity. Anyway, here now is the year 2010 in as many statuses as I can squeeze in until Carpal Tunnel sets in. I hope you enjoy it as much I enjoy doing it to you…

Jared Stern…

…found it mildly amusing that AMC edited “Jesus Christ” out of The Matrix.

…witnessed Mother Nature in all her glory. The snow fell a tree onto a speed camera. You clock that, asshole?

…is having that dream where I’m at work on a Saturday after getting to bed at 2am. Wait, I’m not in my underwear. Crap.

…wonders if the Russians know that, by electrocuting Jack Bauer, you’re only hurting the electricity.

…would like to nominate whoever decided to do snow removal during rush hour for the Nobel Prize in Clusterfuckery.

…is right behind Slovenia in the Winter Olympic medal count.

…thinks Ethiopia should’ve sent a delegation to Vancouver to compete in Skeleton.

…thinks the In Memoriam segment of the Oscars will be long enough to qualify for a Best Mini-Series Emmy.

…liked Crazy Heart better when it was called The Wrestler.

…is a little bit OCD. A smidge. Ok, maybe less than a smidge. A touch. More than a touch but less than a smidge. Perhaps a tad.

…hereby dubs University of Northern Iowa bandwagon fans, UNI-tards.

…is excessercising.

…didn’t appreciate the Passover theme at the Luxor.

…would like to know where all the people who claimed global warming was debunked with all the snow are today, when it’ll be 80 on April 2nd.

…was called “subversive and horrifying” after the Friday late show at the Improv. It was a compliment. I’ll take it.

…is drawing a rough draft of a blank.

…can’t spell “mundane” incorrectly without “Monday”.

…is treating my allergies with prescription strength denial.

…has never had amnesia, I think.

…can’t spell “histamine” without “mean shit”.

…doesn’t know the meaning of the word, “lexicon”.

…is eyeing Alex Ovechkin as the #1 pick for my fantasy golf team.

…donated $100 to the Foxwoods Home For People Who Should Know Better.

…thought, instead of singing the National Anthem, Chris Brown should’ve thrown out the first punch at the Mayweather fight.

…is realizing that I may be a bit out of shape to run in Survive DC 2010. I’m getting winded typing this.

…is really good a word jumbles. Or I’m dyslexic. One of the two.

…has a new favorite sports name: Angel Pagan. His parents are devout atheists.

…wishes Pac-Man a happy birthday. Your haunted compulsive eating disorder has brought joy to us all.

…has the edge of my seat dusted off for the 24 finale. Give ’em hell, Jack.

…wishes Star Wars a happy 33rd birthday. Probably time to move out of your parents’ basement.

…isn’t sure which is more shocking, that Gary Coleman is dead or that Conrad Bain is still alive.

…always enjoys when the diminutive UPS driver stops by. I call him the UPS-aloompa. Today, he has perfect puzzle for me.

…is torn. This Strasburg kid is great, but he makes the line for my ballpark Ben’s Chili Dog longer.

…is getting just a little tired of being lied to by previews and reviews. Predators sucked like an airplane toilet. Do yourself a favor and go rent Aliens instead.

…once killed a man because he told me I couldn’t take criticism.

…just found out that Die Hard came out 22 years ago today. First, holy shit do I feel old. Second, to celebrate, why don’t you come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs.

…thinks TLC should be renamed The Midgets & Cake Channel.

…has found that low expectations are like high standards, but with less disappointment.

…is fit as a fat fiddle.

…saw a guy with one of those magnetic ribbons on his car that said, “Support Tattoos”. Hey buddy, if you really supported tattoos, that would be etched into your bumper. You support temporary tattoos.

When I bite into a York Peppermint Patty, I feel the– fuck, it’s still 100 degrees outside.

…just discovered that the storm killed my refrigerator. The food inside is now more spoiled than Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua.

…finished cleaning out my dead fridge. I’m pretty sure I heard a voice say, “Zuul”.

…heard Aretha Franklin broke four ribs in a fall. She also broke two sides and a biscuit.

…spent more time in a kayak this weekend than I have in any other palindrome.

This is my status. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. My status is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my status is useless. Without my status, I am useless.

…does less all day than most people do before 6am.

…better whiskey up these cornflakes.

…heard the guy at the center of the Discovery Channel hostage situation is making demands. His first demand: SHARK MONTH.

…wants to know if there are any events planned for this once-every-hundred-years occasion that is 9/02/10. Maybe an Aaron Spelling Bee?

…had a great time up in Timonium for Laff-a-palooza. Our show was right next to the Maryland State Fairgrounds, where Justin Bieber was performing. Parking was tighter than one of his groupies.

…has 1000 monkeys on 1000 typewriters furiously working on my status. Sure, they work cheap, but the smell.

…is writing my concession speech. Here’s what I’ve got so far: Large popcorn, medium Cherry Coke, and a box of Sno-Caps.

…is venturing into the dark heart of Delaware with a bucket full of dick jokes.

Opulence. I has it.

…remembers when nostalgia meant something.

…enjoyed the rampant Brett Favre jokes at trivia tonight. Especially for the questions, “What type of nuts are used to make Marzipan?” and “What is the offspring of a donkey and horse called?”

…is voting o-nay on the measure to deport illegal Pig Latinos.

…is shaking hands and kissing babies. I’ve only mixed those up a couple times.

…wants to congratulate Joe Paterno on hitting 400. He doesn’t look a day over 395.

…is packing up the van and moving to the Capitol. Hills, that is.

“Then again, if it’s funny, then the hell with dignity.” – Leslie Nielsen

My inner curmudgeon is yelling at the rest of me to get the hell off his lawn.

…saw a white squirrel on the way home from Safeway. This gentrification thing has gotten way out of hand.

Thanks for laughing at me. Let’s crank it to ’11…

Fantasy Isthmus

Hey there ‘Redheads… I’m still coming down from the high of the first weekend of NFL football. By the time I fully recover, it’ll be time for kickoff again. This is the most wonderful sports time of the year. The first full slate of Sunday games nudged the status quo a little bit. The big shocker of the weekend was the upstart Texans beating the Colts while riding on the back of Arian Foster and his 231 yard/3 TD performance. I do feel bad for Arian Foster. He’s the newly minted star of the NFL season and he’s going to have a devil of a time finding a name for his fan club. “Arian Nation” is probably a bad idea, is all I’m sayin’… It was also nice to see the Redskins put on their yellow big boy pants and win a game. Or should I say, “not lose”… The only reason why the DC media jackals aren’t tearing them completely to shreds is because of that glaring holding call on Cowboy Alex Barron…I’ve taken a good look at the play from various angles and I’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t holding. It was a Cobra Clutch. He didn’t have much of a choice. It was either put Orakpo in the Million Dollar Dream or let him break Tony Romo into bite-size pieces. Kinda like what Ray Lewis did to the tight end from the Jets…

I’ll resist the urge to make an Old Spice body wash commercial reference. Instead, I’ll just say that Ray Lewis hit him so hard, it tore Kris Jenkins’ ACL. A lot of injuries in the first week. Packers RB, Ryan Grant is gone for the season, Eagles QB, Kevin Kolb got his brain meat tenderized, and Colts S, Bob Sanders got his annual catastrophic injury. It’s probably wrong, but most of football watching America doesn’t much care except for how their fantasy teams will be impacted. Screw these guys’ careers, I might lose $25. Speaking of which, I did ok in the first week of tripping the football fantastic. In one league, I scored the most points, and in another league, I ate a double-decker turd burger and scored the fewest. I went 2-2, the two wins coming in my money league and my keeper league, so I’ll take a slight setback in the other two.

But enough of that. I did manage to shower and extricate myself from the ass groove in my couch to take in some fine cinema at the local multiplex. I checked out the bloody burrito, Machete. It was everything it needed to be for my taste. A tortilla thin plot, bad guys getting their brains splattered like chunky salsa, and some tasteful nudity. I had my disbelief precariously dangling overhead, waiting for Robert Rodriguez to pummel it with his pulpy revenge fantasy until ludicrous candy spilled out. Steven Segal as a Mexican drug lord? Sure. Rappelling down the side of a building on a guy’s disemboweled intestines? Great. Jessica Alba falling for Danny Trejo, who makes Edward James Olmos look like Zac Efron? Sign me up. It was also nice to see Don Johnson found work. By the way, when you go see Machete, keep in mind that Danny Trejo is 66. That completely blew what was left of my mind. I’m steps away from 35 and I have about as much chance of being an action hero as BP does of getting a float in the Mardi Gras parade.

For those of you in various parts of Virginia, I’ll be in your neck of the woods this weekend. On Friday, I’m featuring at the Lynchburg Comedy Zone and on Saturday, I’ll be in Colonial Beach at The Riverboat with comedy compadres, Tommy Sinbazo and EJ Edmonds. Laugh at me, won’t you?

To be continued…

Touching Down

Hey there ‘Redheads… Happy Jew Year! Wow, it’s 5771 and shit is crazy… Seriously, where did the time go? Yes, last night the matzoh ball dropped and it’s Rosh Hashanah. A happy and sweet new year to one and all. One of my Jew Year’s resolutions is to check my lunch meat. Yesterday, I was halfway through a sandwich before I realized that beneath the bread and mustard on my hid the reptilian metallic sheen of bad corned beef. But there’s another high holiday to observe today. NFL Kickoff. I’ve got the preseason ass groove in my couch ready for some football. To celebrate, let’s take a ride on the blog flume…

Before I get to the promised breakdown of my fantasy football teams that I know you’ve all been waiting for, I want to take a quick second to thank my buddy T. Brad Hudson for including me in his Charm City cavalcade of comedy, Laffapalooza, last weekend. I had the pleasure of sharing the stage with some of Baltimore’s finest: Mike Storck, Sonny Fuller, Tommy Sinbazo, Mike Shader, Matt Baetz, and Dorian Gray. The venue we were in was right next door to the Maryland State Fairgrounds, where Justin Bieber was scheduled to perform that night. Thousands of people were crammed into the surrounding area. Parking was tighter than one of Bieber’s groupies. I’ll go ahead and admit, the bulk of this paragraph was just so I could type that last line. Anyway, it was a great show and I was flattered to be included.

Now, as I mentioned in the last installment, I’m an obsessive degenerate who is inexorably drawn to the statistical lap dance of fantasy football. I drafted four teams last week, one of which will hopefully rise above mediocrity and bring me virtual victory. My four teams are: The Minnesota Vicarious, The Wiseacres All-Pros, The Pandora Blueskins, and Viva El Comix Cafe. The last team is in a keeper league that I was invited to through a guy who saw my show at the Comix Cafe in Buffalo. The club has since shuttered, so I’m using the team to keep the memory of great laughs and greater buffalo wings alive. By the way, I realize that alot of you have tuned out at this point because you could not possibly care less about such things. While I’m hurt, I do understand. My blog. Deal with it. Aside from the keeper league, where my draft position was determined by last season’s middle-of-the-road performance, I got shafted in my random draft placement. I picked 12th of 12, 10th of 12, and 9th of 10. My other three teams are pretty similar because I had to use the same bottom-of-the-order draft strategy. So, let’s focus on Viva El Comix Cafe… My three kept players from last year’s team were Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX RB), DeSean Jackson (PHI WR), and Antonio Gates (SD TE). Keeping in mind that most of the other elite players in the league were kept by the other 11 teams in the league, here’s my roster:

QB: Sam Bradford (STL)
RB: Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX)
RB: Arian Foster (HOU)
WR: DeSean Jackson (PHI)
WR: Wes Welker (NE)
WR: Dez Bryant (DAL)
TE: Antonio Gates (SD)
OP: Ahmad Bradsahaw (RB-NYG)
K: Bill Cundiff (BAL)
D/ST: Green Bay

I realize I’m a little thin at QB, but I picked up the suspended Ben Roethlisberger to pick up the slack later in the season. I also think Bradford will have a better than average rookie season. I’m also banking on rookie Dez Bryant to come through. And hopefully Arian Foster lives up to the massive hype. By the way, OP stands for “Offensive Player” and can be filled by any offensive position, including another QB. There’s a guy in the league who has Drew Brees and Phillip Rivers in the same starting line-up.

Ok, that’s all I’ll put you through for now. I just wanted to get it out there. Can’t wait for the stats to start flying.

To be continued…

August in the Wind

Hey there ‘Redheads… So, hey… Been awhile. Sorry for the anemic August, but things have been a little hectic on my end. I wanted to make sure I shoehorned one last blog, so we can hit September in full stride…or with a slight limp. I’ve been busy the last couple weeks. Last weekend I had the pleasure of celebrating the nuptials of two of my best friends, Allyson and Chris. I was lucky enough to be the officiant of the ceremony. They repeated after me and everything. I don’t have access to any of the pictures right now, but there was much rejoicing, and the open bar overfloweth. You can read all about it in an upcoming Washington Post Sunday Style section. They sent a photographer to cover the affair.

After an extended amount of time in dress shoes, I have to say, I gained a new respect for the ladies and the uncomfortable footwear they put up with. I wasn’t wearing five inch pumps, but my dress shoes put a hurtin‘ on my tootsies. Over the course of the evening, they turned into bear traps on my feet. Luckily, my best girlfriend in the whole wide world had her first aid kit of a purse with her, and she had gel band-aids at the ready. My shoes gnawed a dime-sized notch out of the back of both of my heels. It’s a hindrance on the dance floor when every step you take feels like you’re taking a cheese grater to your Achilles tendon.

Luckily, my injuries won’t keep me from participating in this year’s fantasy football season. I have my first of three drafts tomorrow night and I am PUMPED. I can’t wait for the stats to start flyin‘. All I need is a team flag to unfurl. How’s Mediocri3-D for a team name? I may re-use last year’s Minnesota Vicarious. I’m also thinking about breaking out this as a team name…I wasn’t a huge fan of the movie, but that’s pretty funny… So, I have my 3 beer mug ready to fuel my draft of a rag tag bunch to lead me to hypothetical glory. I’ll give you a full breakdown after the draft. Or I’ll have a breakdown during the draft. Either way, brace yourselves.

More to come…

Bookish

Hey there ‘Redheads… I’ll go ahead and admit it, this installment is a bit of a cop out. I’m not quite feeling the usual blog vibe, so here’s a list of fake book titles instead. I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled random ramblings next time. Enjoy…

Eugenics For Dummies

Everything You Wanted To Know About Rhetorical Questions, But Were Afraid To Ask Yourself

Investment Sperm Banking

A Song in My Heart, A Hand Up My Ass: The Autobiography of Kermit the Frog

12 Steps Back: A Guide to Relapse

Facebook As An Alibi

Even You Can Be Condescending

13 Ways To Conquer Triskaidekaphobia

Happiness Through Better Hatred

Proactive Apathy

Cough Your Way To Six-Pack Abs

Lose Weight While You Eat

Men Are From Mars, Gay Men Are From Uranus

Sell Your Roommate’s Organs

Why The Voices Make A Good Point

Green: Make Money Recycling Mucous

Sell Your Identity For Fun and Profit

Dead Pet Recipes

How To Be Constructively Awful

Your Ass As Ad Space

Live Life Vicariously

Act Tough, Sue Big

Goldschlager: Turn Your Pee Into Riches

How To Take Credit For Really Good Ideas

Treasure Maps In The Bible

The Nerf Cookbook

Ransom As a Second Income

No Brain, No Headache

Do-it-yourself Blood Transfusions

Living Will Mad-Libs

Dyslexics For Book The

Annexing Your Neighbor’s House

The Nutritional Value of Dandruff

Off-Color Hand Gestures

The Ipecac Diet

Make Your Own Breast Implants From Pudding

Office Depot Surgery: From Stomach Stapling to Testicle Paper-clipping

Instant Sleep Over: Fun With Narcolepsy

Sign Language For Double Amputees

The Scratch n’ Sniff Nipple Book

The Where’s Waldo Code

Radiation: The Thin Line Between Super Hero and Cancer Patient

Better Luck Next Time: Why Jesus Has Already Returned and We Probably Killed Him Again

Settling Disputes With Russian Roulette

Ethiopia On 85 Cents A Day

Teaching Your Dog To Pick Up Your Poop

Beatboxing For Stutterers

To be continued…

Storm of Brain

Hey there ‘Redheads… Welcome back to Blogust… And welcome to any new readers who found me through DCBlogs.com. Apparently, the last installment got picked up on their feed because they deemed mini-golf, dinosaurs, and large blocks of styrofoam to be awesome. I won’t argue with good taste.

I meant to squeeze another installment into July, but the power outage from that apocalyptic storm we had tear through here last week threw a flying monkey wrench into my plans. It’s tough to blog from Amish country. At one point, I removed the buttons from my remote control because they were too proud. Not only did I lose power for the better part of three days, but the jolt that knocked out the power also blew out the motor on my refrigerator. When the lights finally did come back on, I was greeted by a stench that could’ve knocked a buzzard off a shit wagon. All the food I had in there was more spoiled than Paris Hilton’s chihuahua. So, in order to prevent a hazmat team from quarantining my condo, I double bagged a hefty, put on some gloves, and dug a mass grave for all of my perished perishables. I’m pretty sure I heard a voice say, “Zuul”. By the way, a great name for a band: Hot Dairy. They’d be a funk band, of course. I realize that all this was a minor inconvenience compared to some of the actual catastrophe that was wrought by this swift but powerful storm. I could’ve lived here…Luckily, the family that lived here was on vacation at the time. Good thing they’re used to hotel living. Yeesh. What is up with the weather around here? It’s calmed down in the last couple of days, but we went through a stretch where it was 112 in the shade, then there was an earthquake, then a storm that’s like a tornado fucked a hurricane hits from out of nowhere. Would you be surprised by locusts at this point? Because I wouldn’t be. God must’ve gotten a parking ticket in Bethesda or something.

After dealing with all of that mess, I welcomed a weekend performing at one of my favorite clubs, the Baltimore Comedy Factory. Charm City is always good to me and this slate of shows was no exception. Big thanks to Cara and the crackerjack staff for they do to make a shlub like me feel at home. I got a chance to work with the very funny Drew Fraser. It was fun to watch him work because our vocal styles are so different. Stand-up comedy is alot like surfing. Instead of water, we ride waves of laughter that ripple out from the main joke with tag lines and vocal cues. With each wave, you try to add something that’ll keep the ripples flowing. Drew creates a tsunami with screaming. I’ve not heard a comic that loud since Sam Kinison. He conducted a cacophonous symphony that was fun to watch, if a little painful to listen to. The audience was gasping for breath at one point. Another fun side note to the weekend was that Otakon, the anime convention, was in town, so I got to see socially awkward types with patchy facial hair dressed like Link from Legend of Zelda mingle with the usual freaks that roam Baltimore’s streets. It was an odd cross section of humanity.

I’ll leave you with this fun little ditty…

If you’re not giggling, you’re not human.

To be continued…