Category: Uncategorized

All kinds of stuff to get into… The weekend was chock full of cool stuff, so let’s start there…

FRIDAY: I put on a Superman shirt and my DC101 jacket and went out to party like it was 1999 (those of you who’re familiar with my life pre-standup, will realize that timeline fits). Met up with my buddy, Chris White at RFD in Chinatown for a couple of brews before the 9:45 showing of A History Of Violence. Apparently my flashback wardrobe caught the attention of Zork, the God of Odd Coincidence, because I ran into two ghosts of my DC101 past. Kardin, a fellow former ClearChannel employee (our bartender) and Pamela, who played on the Morning Show kickball team and served margaritas under the alias “Rosalita”. Both’re very cool gals, and we reminisced about the good ol’ days. One particular bit of way-backery (look it up) brought us to the sex toy parties that were held in-studio on more than one occasion. These parties are a lot like tupperware parties, except instead of Prep Essentials Snack-Stor® Container, Cold Cut Keepers & Egg Trays, they sell double-headed dildos. Which begs the eternal question… How much would YOU pay for something that can fuck a tin can and still be hard enough to fuck a tomato, hmmm? I believe a sale was just made.
On to the multi-plex… A History Of Violence was a great movie, and catapulted Viggo Mortensen to the top of my list of Favorite Viggos…past the former #1, Viggo, Master of Evil from Ghostbusters 2. I recommend giving it a look…it is an empowering film…I had the urge to maim at least 3 homeless on the walk back to the Metro.

SATURDAY: Went to see a Henry Rollins spoken worperformancece at the Birchmere. Rollins is funny, engaging, intelligent, and angry. Do yourself a favor and pick up one of his better spoken word CDs, The Boxed Life. It was a great show, despite suffering from a bad case of swamp-ass/stiff neck afterward. Basil White was also at the show, and I bring this up to set up what happened after the show. Henry, despite his gruff exterior, is a very nice guy and gracious to his fans. A bunch people had brought things to be autographed, and a group of about 15 of us waited by his tour bus for him to come say hi. I brought my copy of The Boxed Life to get signed…and a copy of my own CD, Strangers Laugh At Me, to give to Henry…cuz I’m a whore. It took the better part of an hour for him to show, and in that time, Basil decided to hit the dusty trail. Basil was particularly moved by some things Henry had said about teachers and gave me a transcript of one of his standup comedy classes to give to Henry. Ok, so Henry comes out starts signing stuff and talking to the people. He gets to me and my brain decides to go take a smoke break…as he signs my CD, I try to explain my offerings to Henry… “My friend really liked what you said about teachers and he wanted me to give you this…” He looks quizzically at the folded papers… “It’s a stand-up comedy class…” This guy just got finished a 2+ hour show where he had the crowd rolling, and I’m implying he needs lessons…at least, in my mind that’s how it sounded. I felt like a shmuck.
I sent the following email to Basil the next day…
Hey Basil…

I gave Henry your class thing…when I told him what it was, I believe the thought that went through his head was “hey, fuck you buddy”. I’ll be emailing him later to explain myself.

–Jared

Basil apparently replied on my behalf…
Henry: My sister and I are teachers and we liked what
you said about teaching. Jared handed you what I
teach – http://www.basilwhite/comedy workshop – it’s
the psychology and neuroscience of how people get
jokes.

-Basil White

To which Henry replied…
Basil / Jared. It’s really not for you to assume what goes through my head, fuck you or otherwise. I have the writing, the CD, all of it and I’ll check it out when I get a chance if I get a chance. Thanks. HR

…Pretty cool, eh? I thought so.

SUNDAY: Met up with my uber-cute, rock star pal, Marissa. We took advantage of the absolutely gorgeous day and went to the Renaissance Festival…in costume. Nothing quite like dorking it up in full D&D regalia. The Renn Fest brings out all the colors of the rainbow, from the whitest of trash to the reddest of neck. We dined on roast turkey legs and guzzled mead wine. The day wouldn’tve been complete without a comedy-sighting, and big ups to Curt Shackleford, open-mic kingpin, for filling the bill. A fun day was had by all.

On to other news…

It was recently the first day of school for a Vatican university teaching aspiring demonologists and exorcists. “There is no doubt that the devil is intervening more in the life of man these days,” Father Paolo Scarafoni told the students. “Not all of you will become exorcists, but it is indispensable that every priest knows how to discern between demonic possession and psychological problems,” he said.

…which is the crux of my brand new game show:

* AUTISM *
* OR *
* SATAN? *

To be continued…

Happy belated Columbus Day… I celebrated with my Cherokee friend, Running Horse. Then I kicked him out of his house and renamed it.

Can’t stay happy for too long, though… Yom Kippur is tomorrow. The Jewish day of atonement. This is when all the guilt built up over the last year finally catches up with us and we cleanse our souls to gear up for the coming year’s neuroses. Up, up, and oy vey!

Here’s a random observation from the open road… The state of Virginia is the capital of crappy personalized license plates. I was on my way to Wiseacre’s and I saw a guy in a truck with the license plate: VOLTRON. When they form the giant robot, this guy is the asshole.

Speaking of Wiseacre’s, tonight’s open mic was a tossed salad of anal-themed material. Be it shit, or anal sex, or opening a bottle with your asshole…the poopshoot was central to tonight’s comedy cavalcade. Crap was the crux. Lot’s of new faces on stage tonight. Apparently, Fredericksburg, VA has been a breeding ground for new comics…tonight they ventured north. Good times.

To be continued…

I gave very serious consideration to giving up on fame and fortune in the world of comedy this weekend. I have seen the future…and it’s not me. The DC scene is chock full of talent, and yes I think I’m funny, but there are 3 guys in particular who are on a fast track. I’m not going to name any names, but if you’re a part of the DC comedy community, and aren’t completely delusional, you have some idea of who I’m talking about. They have a unique blend of raw talent, audience connectivity, and insight…and most importantly, they’re unassuming and genuinely nice people. They deserve the success that comes their way. I just ask that they put me in a movie…or something. Ok, had to get that out…on to my attempt at a funny and insightful post…

My recent comedy trek started off with a trip up to St. Mary’s, PA and Gunners Inn. This was a great show in a small town. 150 people who were there to have a good time. Shout out to Mark and Annette, who have an awesome staff and a fun room. Every once in awhile, a comedy audience contains a patron that is, in a word, a gift. There was a guy in this audience, who’s laugh sounded not unlike two cats fucking. I had to tell, maybe, 10 jokes tops in my 30 minute set. The rest of it was spent pointing out this guy’s response, to the uproarious delight of the crowd. Lotsa fun with the fine folk in St. Mary’s.

I woke up the next morning to a bit of rain as I packed up my stuff and headed to my next destination, Harrisonburg, VA. There’s one thing I like to treat myself to when I’m on the road. No, not whores & whiskey…that’s two things. Cracker Barrel. Love me some pancakes. But as I took the Plank Rd. exit off of 99S, another oasis caught my eye…
The Altoona H(.)(.)TERS…where the finest specimens of Altoonan femality serve up crappy wings with a side of fleshy distraction. And, no, “femality” isn’t a word…but it is a bitchin’ cheat code for Mortal Kombat…

Ok, onward to Harrisonburg. The trip was nothing but rain and fog the entire way…like driving through bisque, except a lot less delicious. I got to the gig at 4:30…the show wasn’t until 9. Luckily, there was a Regal about a block away. I caught a matinee of Waiting, which was an enjoyable way to kill the time. I’m pretty sure I could listen to Ryan Reynolds read the phone book. He was the highlight of a well-put-together cast. Dane Cook had his share of quotable lines, all of the actresses were sufficiently hot, and it’s always cool to see Chi McBride. And if you want to see a funnier food tampering scene, check out Road Trip, where Horatio Sanz *ahem* fixes DJ Qualls’ french toast…good stuff.

The gig, however, was not good stuff. It was a perfect storm for a shitty show, to say nothing of the torrential downpour outside. The room that was usually used for the comedy show was taken by a local cover band, moving us to a smaller stage near the bar. The band was The Worx. The bartender went a long way to describe them when she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them do anything original”…*sigh* The double standard of show business…this quartet of yuck-a-pucks can crank out a sub-par rock rendition of Black Eyed Peas’ Let’s Get It Started and the crowd goes apeshit, but if I try to do a prop-comic version of Bill Cosby’s The Dentist, I’m the talentless hack. Yes…I know…some might say there are plenty of “cover comics” out there. Just sayin’ is all. Anywho, the show starts, and I’m met by an ovation of 4 people…I drove 5 hours…now, I suck at math, but that’s a crappy ratio no matter how you slice it. The math got worse, with the addition of a table of young women who promptly began talking amongst themselves. And one of them turned around to another woman behind her and started loudly muttering, “He’s not funny…He’s not funny.” She’s entitled to her opinion, and I’d like to think that most people disagree with her (see the beginning of this post), but if you’re not going to directly heckle me, keep it to yourself. I’m not going to begrudge a heckler for heckling…it’s what they do, but this waste of boobs was conducting a smear campaign. I couldn’t even use the classic I don’t go to your job and yank the manure shovel out of your hand…the equivalent would be more along the lines of me sitting next to her at a bar and proclaiming to the patrons, “There is no way anyone would ever want to fuck HER. I don’t know why she even left the house with that man’s haircut.”
My set ended well, with the number of interested audience members exploding to 9. The drive home continued the evening’s suction. The hard rain continued thru the night, turning 66 into an asphalt log flume ride… To sum up, first gig: :oD…second gig: :o(

Such is stand-up.

Let’s lighten the mood, shall we? Y’know what lifts my spirits? Rhetorical questions…and a romantic comedy.

I’m not a political guy, but 2008 is shaping up to be a Presidential race for the ages. When the dust settles, don’t blame me…I voted for Zod.

Coming soon: My picks for the Comedy Kumite Tournament of Champions brackets.

To be continued…

Greetings from the year 5766. Yes, Jews control the media…and the future.

Ah…Wednesday night at Wiseacre’s. 19 comics. 19 audience members. Those two groups were NOT mutually exclusive. That Venn Diagram is one circle. But this is the anatomy of the open mic. Feast or famine. Tonight could’ve been sponsored for 85 cents a day. The show was still a hoot. I hope people start to realize that after Lost, the MLB Playoffs, the NHL, Apprentice: Martha Stewart, Nanny 911, thumb-twiddling, and staring contests, open-mic comedy is a viable entertainment option. While you were sitting on your duff, trying to find something remotely amusing about The George Lopez Show, you missed out on one of the funniest new comics on the DC scene. Her name is Alicia Gomes. I finally got a chance to see my fellow Sketchup alum strut her stand-up stuff, and goddamn she’s good. She’s only in town for another couple months before she heads to NY…do yourself a favor and take in a set.

In other news, Nicholas Cage just had a bouncing baby boy. Good for him. He named the kid Kal-El. For all you non-dorks out there, that’s Superman’s Kryptonian name. After the doctor cut the cord, Nick wrapped the kid in a blanket and shot his cradle into space. Thanks to Mr. Cage for giving me the courage to name my first-born son Zod.

Tomorrow I embark on a two day tour of Saint Mary’s, PA and Harrisonburg, VA. With gas prices being what they are, I’ll have mortgaged my future by the time I get home. It’s my blog. I don’t have to make sense.

To be continued…

Let me start off by apologizing for the lag between updates. It has recently come to my attention that people not named Jared Stern actually read this blog. It just took me awhile to amass enough tidbits to make this a worthwhile post. That being said…

Just got back from a rousing game of Texas Hold ‘Em with Erik “DJ Qualls’ Stunt Double” Myers, Adam “Kuato” Gregory, and two of their friends. This game featured 3 four-of-a-kind hands…none held by me. I left down $1.25 and a pair of pants…did I mention it was the most disturbing game of strip poker ever played? No winners.

Speaking of stripping…

SEATTLE (Oct. 2) – Fearing a spate of new cabarets after a federal judge struck down the city’s 17-year moratorium on new strip clubs, the City Council is planning to vote Monday on some of the strictest adult-entertainment regulations of any big city in the country. No lap dances. No placing dollar bills in a dancer’s G-string. And the clubs must have what one council member likens to “Fred Meyer” lighting, a reference to the department store chain.

While you’re at it, why not make it an All-Lunchlady revue?…or Girls With Goiters? Christ, I know I can’t eat the steak, but at least let me rub my face in the menu. Where can a man go where his sticky dollar bills are welcome? Where can he be free of this penile penal system? Enter: Salem, Oregon… Beaver Country…

SALEM (Sept. 29) – The Oregon Supreme Court struck down as unconstitutional yesterday a state law against live sex shows and a local ordinance that says nude dancers must stay at least 4 feet away from patrons.

If there was ever a demand for a sequel to the computer game The Oregon Trail, this is it. C’mon…put the Leisure Suit Larry people to work. Pack up your wagons, boys…there’s gold in them thar fleshy hills!

I’m reminded of a trip to Good Guys…*flashback fade out*…one spritely young lass was giving a spirited performance on the pole. When she got done, I noticed she was wearing bowling shoes. I asked her why, and she said the standard-issue stripper shoes hurt her back. She just got finished contorting herself in ways that made Cirque du Soliel look like a geriatric Electric Slide line. Gotta be the shoes…

In other news, my mother will be holding a one-woman candlelight vigil for Leo Henryk Sternbach, Ph.D., who passed away at the age of 97. He invented Valium.

To be continued…

Just got back from one of my favorite Tuesday night destinations, the DC Improv. Bob Marley is there thru Sunday with two of my comedy pals, Mike Shader and Erin Conroy. Mike hosted the very first open-mic I ever went to, at a now defunct hole-in-the-wall club called Winchester’s. Erin is the left leg of the giant robot of comedy that is THE DC STANDUP ALL-STARS. They’re both damn funny…do yourself a favor and go see one of the shows this week.

Hey, wanna see how dorks are handling the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina?
Click here.
…*sigh*

One thing I’ve noticed in my short time blogging is that sarcasm, unless italicized or highlighted, doesn’t translate well in print. Hyperbole, which is the single greatest figure of speech in the known universe, is one of the more subtle forms of sarcasm that’s tough to noodle through at first glance. This makes for a sticky situation when we comedians make P.T. Barnum-esque claims to promote our shows and prostitute ourselves in general. In order to get the folk out of their houses and into our comedy venues, it’s not uncommon to say things like… THIS SHOW WILL END WORLD HUNGER…or WE SO FUNNY WE MAKE YOU LAUGH LONG TIME. We gotta. Are you really going to come see a group of comics billed as “…eh…ok”? We’re comics…exaggeration for the sake of effect is our bread and butter. It’s our gift…our curse. But, with great power comes great responsibility, so we should be careful when we toss around the playful assertion that we’re funnier than other people…especially when those other people are other comics…though you’d think we’d know better than to give half a rat’s ass cheek. Simply put, those with glass egos shouldn’t read blogs. No apologies necessary. Get over yourselves, people.

That being said, come to Wiseacre’s tomorrow night for a fundraiser for hurricane victims…the GREATEST CAUSE EVER…that’s right…you heard me…suck it, cancer research.

To be continued…

Well…I’m 30. Three whole decades. Two bar mitzvahs and a 4-year old. Some say life starts at 30. Yes…if you’re the Highlander. Despite this big milestone, my celebration was decidedly low-key…highlighted by a meal fit for Zeus himself at the Oceanaire Seafood Room. I ate an animal stuffed with two other animals…delicious in the way that only triple homicide can be.
I had my heart set on eating shark, but it wasn’t on the menu that night. If you ever get the chance, I recommend trying shark. Not because it’s particularly tasty, but because it’s especially satisfying to eat something that, if it had a chance, would eat you first. You don’t get that feeling of food-chain supremacy by eating a steak…cows aren’t predatory…yet.

Afterwards, I met up with my good pal Chris White @ RFD in Chinatown. We discussed the mysteries of life over a couple brews. One mystery in particular that has eluded me is How can anyone stay interested in the first 3/4 of MLB’s regular season? In my mind, there are too many games. Chris offered that the baseball season is a metaphor for life. I agreed…like life, the baseball season means nothing until the end. Wow…that’s morbid.

My gig out in Lynchburg reinforced my theory that stand-up comics operate on a plane that is inversely proportional to reality. I drove a grand total of 8 hours to do a 1/2 hour of work. Take that, Joe Punchclock.

Stuff I noticed on the road to and from Lynchburg:

• A car with not one, not two, but THREE American Flag stickers. Listen buddy, I wasn’t questioning your patriotism before, but now methinks thou doth protest too much. I see one sticker, I think he’s a proud American. Two stickers, maybe he likes his car to look balanced. Three? Terrorist. Call the tipline and get this guy cavity searched.
• A trail marker that said “Blacks Run”. Seemed more instructive than declarative to me.

• The sign that warns Speed Limit Enforced By Aircraft. Let’s change “enforced” to “monitored”, eh? Unless I’m getting pulled over by a goddamn Cessna, the aircraft isn’t the enforcer.

Thanks to everyone who’s made my first 30 years so enjoyable…here’s to another 30.

To be continued…

Let’s face it, people…sometimes I’m a moron…an idiot…so dense that light bends around me. Why so hard on yourself, Jared? Glad you asked. Tuesday, that’s why. What’d you do on Tuesday? Well, I stayed in and did laundry. Well, that doesn’t seem so idiotic. You’d think that. What I SHOULD have done was go to the DC Improv to see the open mic contest. A show I could’ve seen FOR FREE that would’ve been a guaranteed good time and featured my fellow Sketchup alum, Alicia Gomes. She took 2nd place. She was a damn funny gal when we were in college and I have yet to see her showcase her talent as a stand up comic. It’s mental lapses like this that make me wish I was man enough to kick my own ass.

Tomorrow, I have a 4 hour drive to Lynchburg, VA for a one-nighter at the Boonsboro Country Club. Next time, I need to consult MapQuest BEFORE I take the gig. Hopefully it’ll be a worthwhile trek.

News Flash:

LOS ANGELES – A woman is suing ABC’s reality show “Extreme Makeover” for unspecified damages. In a lawsuit filed Sept. 9 in Los Angeles Superior Court, Deleese Williams, 30, of Conroe, Texas, claimed the producers subjected her to needless humiliation and goaded her sister into insulting her appearance. Williams says a psychologist and numerous doctors told her she needed an “eye lift, ears pulled back, chin implant and breast implants.” She was also told she needed dental surgery to break and reset her jaw for a successful “makeover,” the lawsuit said. Just hours before the dental surgery was to take place, Williams was told she was being dropped from the show because the recovery time wouldn’t fit into the schedule, the lawsuit said.

Ok, is anybody else tired of these goddamn makeover shows? I’ve seen pictures of this lady … While, she’s not what I’d call beautiful, she’s also not showing up on Maury’s next I’m Too Ugly To Live episode either. Embrace your flaws…accept them…they make you you. I think, if they want these makeovers to truly be “extreme”, they should just cut the bullshit and televise lobotomies for these people…Instead of using surgery to correct your minor imperfections, we’re going to take an ice cream scoop to the part of your brain that gives a damn. ******THE MORE YOU KNOW

To be continued…

News Flash:

NEW YORK (AP) – Gordon Gould, a pioneer in laser technology who coined the word “laser” and won a decades-long struggle to secure patent rights for the most commonly used type, has died. He was 85. A spokesman for his family said that, after going through a wide spectrum of emotions, they are now, “set on stunned.”

…Thanks, I’ll be here all week.

On to the crux of today’s post… 4 days and counting ’til I turn 30. This is the next big age milestone after 21 (though, the car-renting binge I went on when I turned 25 is Hertz legend) and I’m not quite sure how to…handle it. I have no clue what I want to do for the first birthday that I’ve had in awhile that lands on a weekend. I’m also wrestling with (in a steel cage) the notion of adulthood, and how I’ve been able sidestep many of its trappings up to now. Odds are I’m making WAY too big a deal out things, but hey, that’s what blogs are for (keep smiling…keep shining).

A bunch of my other comedy buddies have blogs of their own, and apparently their loyal readers have left comments…soooooooo, lemme know if anybody’s actually reading this thing or if I’m just blogging to myself.

Cool show coming up @ Wiseacre’s in Tyson’s Corner, VA next Wednesday. In lieu of the usual open mic, there’ll be a Hurricane Relief Benefit show. It’s being done in conjunction with a bunch of other clubs across the country.

To be continued…

Just got back from featuring at Cozzy’s, a great little club in Newport News, VA. The crowds were good, if a touch chatty and…how shall I put it…’necky. By the way, they’re GIVING gas away in Newport News…$2.759/10 for regular…I filled up a couple super-size McDonalds cups that I’ll be selling for $2.7510/10 on the Georgia Ave. beltway off-ramp. There’s a fortune to be made in that extra tenth of a cent…so says Superman III. I killed my Saturday in Newport News at the local cineplex…I highly recommend the new Nicholas Cage vehicle, Lord of War. That’s pretty much it for right now. I still haven’t figured out the subtle art of blogging or what the hell I want this blog to be. In the meantime, I’ll try to better crystallize my thoughts for the next entry… To be continued…