Category: Uncategorized

Hey there ‘Redheads… Wish this blog a mazel tov. I’m an uncle. On November 1st, my sister squeezed out a 7 1/2 pound, 21 inch, bouncing baby boy…

Until the bris on Wednesday, he remains nameless. Although, after spending the day with him on Sunday, I think an appropriate name would be Scrunchyface McPoopsalot. Not exactly a biblical name, but wouldn’t that book be a better read if it was? Whichever name is bestowed upon him, it falls upon me as his Crazy Uncle Jared to give him a new nickname just about every time I see him (see above). Unfortunately, the day he’s giveth a name is the day a piece of his winky gets taketh away. I wish I were making up the fact that the bris will be taking place at a kosher deli. I hope they realize they’re naming a child, not a sandwich. Apparently, the mohel moonlights. Once he’s done shaving the brisket, it’s on to the snippin’. Hey, who’s hungry?

Also, thanks to you, the loyal readers for pushing the blog past the 7000 hits mark. I’ve tried to spruce the place up to keep you coming back for 7000 more. You’ll note the addition of 3 video links, including the YouTube hit GUYS WATCHING 24, the most recent collaboration with Chris White NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE, and a comically acclaimed test of mental endurance that I dare you to sit all the way through (“I just got through the whole thing and I feel sick, Jared…I feel sick in my heart…” -Danny Rouhier “It was so painful but, once I got through it, I went numb. This was one of the best things I have ever seen.” -Jon Mumma “It actually made my hair hurt and I couldn’t watch the whole thing.” -Kat Malone). It’s conveniently linked to your right…if ya got the gumption.
I’m hoping I can get the 100th installment and the 10,000 hits mark to coincide…and there will be much rejoicing. This blog has been a nice little outlet…to stick a fork into.

On Saturday, I traveled to York (the city that over sleeps), PA to do a one-nighter at the Victory Athletic Club. Gigs like this walk a fine line of being alot of fun or mind-bendingly awful. Luckily, this one toppled into the fun side, despite hearing a couple patrons refer to my act as a “skit”. They were starved for entertainment. I know when I’m starving, my standards of deliciousness drop considerably. They bellied up to the all-you-can-chortle buffet and gorged on me, and two other very funny guys, Jim Johnson and Mike Morse. Eat, ya jackals.

While I was just in the shower (where I do some of my best thinking outside of the toilet), I started experimenting with the brevity of my material. Maybe it was the natural acoustics, but the jokes sounded funnier. So, with that, I’m designating this month, Get To The Punchlines Quicker-vember…nah…howabout Brevember…turning over a new leaf, as they fall to the ground. We’ll see if this works any better than my previous comedic experiments.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Welcome to the last days of Blogtober. It joins Joke-a-Day in June and Get Jared Out of Debtember in the pantheon of poorly executed ideas. Live and learn. I am that rare combination of procrastination and impatience…I can’t wait to do it later (patent pending). So, I’m sure the hazy shade of winter will bring bloggery botch-jobs of even greater magnitude (it being sweeps and all). Wow, has my Seasonal Affective Disorder kicked in. On to good news, shall we?

While the official trick-or-treatery happens tomorrow night. Most of us, I’m sure, got sauced to the point of living death over the weekend. I was no exception, donning my usual fallback costume, Clark Kent changing into Superman, for a house party in DC.

The costumes in attendance ranged in obscurity and creativity, from Go Go Yubari of Kill Bill Vol. 1 to Mr. Owl from the old school Tootsie Pop commercial. There were, of course, the hot button costumes like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie…complete with plastic adopted kids, one guy came as a bag of spinach, and there was the Mark Foley page. Thankfully, no Steve Irwins. Then there were the concept costumes, like Static Cling with frizzed hair and assorted socks stuck to them, one girl was Craig’s List with ads for roommates with allergies to exposed brick, and one young lady was “under renovation” with various construction elements attached to her. Through all of these, there was one costume that rose above the rest. Brilliantly simple. Not obvious. Begging to asked, “What’re you supposed to be?” The guy stood about 6’6″, wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. Around his neck, he wore a dog collar and leash with a bunch of keys attached to it. When I quizzically posed the question to him, he responded, “I’m Alicia Keys.” Kudos, sir…kudos.
And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I was not happy at all with how I spent my 2am to 3am. Thankfully, I was able to pull a Sam Beckett and go back to set the wrong things right…by sleeping on the other side.

Speaking of time travel, let’s back things up to mention a couple of shows from earlier in the week. Last Tuesday, I got a chance to share the stage with 3 of DC’s finest, Danny Rouhier, Jon Mumma, and comedy dynamo Justin Schlegel, in the name of charity and good will at American University for a show benefiting the Children’s Miracle Network. The show took place in what is essentially the food court of the student union. I had a score to settle with this place. You’ll remember (and I’m counting on you, because my memory pretty spotty) the last time I was there with the giant comedy robot of the DC Standup Allstars, we were met with general indifference and some guy felt it necessary to say AIDS is funnier than me. This time seemed to be shaping up as another round of teeth pulling with the disaffected youth. When putting together a comedy show, the devil is in the details, from lighting to sound to crowd configuration. Comedy needs undivided attention, and with the lights on in the seating area, the crowd had trouble realizing there was a show in front of them instead of jokes to eat food and shoot the shit by. Due to prior time commitments, it fell upon me to close the show, a task I wasn’t sure I was fit for. This worry was compounded by watching Justin and Jon wrestle with a distracted crowd for the center of attention. Just before Danny hit the stage, one of the show’s organizers dimmed the house lights, making the comic on stage the only shiny object in the room. This let the crowd focus on Danny and, afterward, me. I brought things home nicely…for the kids.
Wednesday saw the birth of a brand new weekly comedy venue in Bethesda. The place is called South Beach and it’s owned by legendary Redskins wide receiver, Gary Clark. The space is prime for comedy and Gary is excited about having us there after last week’s debut. It also doesn’t hurt that the bartender, Jessica, is a five alarm hottie. Thanks to Rob Maher for getting it started. Click here to be a friend to local comedy.

Before I wrap this up, a good riddance to the misbegotten clusterfuck that was the Baltimore Rascal’s. Their logo should’ve been a guy with his head up his ass. The club was up and running then came to a sputtering stop all within 3 months. Maybe someday a club can do the right thing with that great space in the Baltimore PowerPlant. Long live the Baltimore Comedy Factory.

Have a Happy ‘Ween.

To be continued…

Hey ‘Redheads… Before I begin, I think we can all agree that I procrastinate like a coma patient. This blog is later than the apology for Freddy Got Fingered. I declared this month Blogtober, yet I’ve gone 10 days between weekly installments. My hope is that with each blog, your expectations lower to the point that I no longer have to apologize. Today’s blog may seem more random than usual. Let the bottoming out commence.

On Comedy Central tonight, they followed Blue Collar Comedy with the Steven Wright one hour special. I think the contrast knob on my TV just reached a higher plane of existence. This is his first televised special in a long time, so I sat and soaked in the off-kilter deadpan genius. As mind bending as Steven Wright’s stuff is, I was floored to find out that we share a joke.

My joke: The guy who invented alkaline batteries died. This has me concerned, because maybe he’s not dead…maybe he’s just…in wrong.

His joke: I went to my grandfather’s wake. As I saw him lying in the casket, I thought about the batteries in my flashlight. I said, “Maybe he’s not dead. Maybe someone put him in the wrong way.”

It’s one of the happier coincidences I’ve encountered in recent days. Much cooler than when I found out that Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds played Leatherface in the recent Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel. I somehow achieved parallel thought with one of my comedy idols…a complete freakin’ fluke but, for a brief moment, everything was Wright with the world.

I heard Tower Records was going out of business, so I figured I’d swing by one of their stores to take advantage of the massive savings. I found out why Tower is going out of business. Because their idea of a Going Out Of Business sale, is to take 15% off a $20 Nickelback CD. I think they also instructed the cashiers to not punch you in the throat. Oh, the savings. Way to make the prices almost reasonable. The shit in their 99cent bin was $5. Good riddance, you money-grubbing bastards. Sheesh.

Congrats to Doug Powell and Jon Mumma on advancing to the next round of the Arlington Cinema n’ Drafthouse contest. I’d like to think I came in a close third…but I’d also like to think that I’m a peer of Steven Wright, so I’m obviously delusional. The competition aside, the show was a blast and that packed house got its money’s worth. Nine of the finest the area has to offer duking it out for the last two spots in the semis, plus Chris White hosting and Justin Schlegel closing. It was a layer cake of hilarity. It was also a great display of everything that’s right about the DC scene. It was all about putting on a good show. And after each set, I’ve never seen so many handshakes, compliments, and kudos. It was almost too much for my shitty self-esteem to handle. Warmed my cockels. Really.

Speaking of competition, I read that the principal of an elementary school in Massachusetts has, “banned tag, touch football, and any other unsupervised chase games at recess,” because they’re worried about kids getting hurt and the school being held responsible for the injuries.
When I was a boy (liver spots are bursting on my hands as I type this) at Stonegate Elementary, me and my chums played a game called Elimination. It was a variation of dodgeball that was played in a fenced-in blacktop. Essentially, inside a steel cage. You got three steps with the ball, then slung it at the scrawniest target in your sightline. Headhunting was encouraged. When you got out, you could “hire” another player to bean the guy that got you out to get back in, giving your hitman three extra steps by touching the ball. We sent a kid to the nurse’s office every day for two weeks before the administration stepped in an banned it.
It’s recess. Shit happens. Lighten up, before the children get so fat they start scoring games based on their cholesterol points.

It’s time, once again, for a WORLD BLOG VIDEO PREMIERE. From two of the four people that brought you GUYS WATCHING 24, it’s a hilarious look at attempting to attempt suicide. Filmed right here at Stately Stern Manor, starring Chris White and Yours Truly (my Swedish porn name) here’s NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE…

Please to be catapulting us to YouTube superstardom. My favorite part: miming hari kari. Let the Oscar buzz begin!

While we’re on the subject of kick ass movies (humor me), I need to throw my support behind The Prestige. This movie was great. Two rival magicians each taking turns upping the revenge ante. When they finally go all-in, it makes for a great twist. It had one of the most satisfying endings that I’ve seen in awhile. The film also answers the age old question. Who would win in a fight between Batman and Wolverine?…if they were both turn of the century magicians. See it. You won’t be disappointed.

To be continued…at my leisure.

Hey there ‘Redheads… It has been too long. I hope all of you had a good Columbus Day or, as it’s called on Indian reservations, Moving Day. Unfortunately, I don’t have a whole hell of alot to blog about for this installment…disappointing since this is Blogtober, I know. I’ve been stuck in a bit of a rut comedically, and I’m hoping to gain some traction and power out of it soon. Seeing some of my favorite locals lead audiences to laughter AND make them drink recently, has given me a much needed hitch in my giddy-up. Luckily, what was a pretty sparse month, as far as stage time, has turned into an opportunity to shake the rust off with some road work. Thursday, I head to Lancaster, PA, then off to Parkersburg, WV…oh, the glamour. It’ll be nice to do a couple 30 minute sets in front of people who don’t know me. Plus, the time in the car takes me to the Coney Island of the mind where I might find a spark or inspiration to get me going. Two places where jokes seem to lurk: the car and the toilet (the flux capacitor, por ejemplo)…like there’s an easy button in my ass cheek.
So, here’s the Jared Live tour schedule for the next week–
10/12 Clipper Magazine Stadium in Lancaster, PA
10/13 River City Tavern & Grill in Parkersburg, WV
10/17 Ned Devine’s in Sterling, VA (do yourself a favor and check out this diamond of a venue in the rough of the local comedy landscape)
10/18 Arlington Cinema n’ Drafthouse for round one of a comedy contest with a $2500 prize (the audience gets a vote, so come support me like the friendly buttresses you are)
Not exactly something to put on the back of a t-shirt, but it’ll do for now.

In the absence of the usual blog innards, I offer you my first stab at internet video posting. Here are two 4 minute clips from my feature set at the DC Improv back in January. Please to be watching them.

While I was uploading that stuff, I figured I’d transpose something else to bits and bytes, for posterity. I’m a horrible person for doing it, but I feel it is a public service to other comedians and fans of comedy. In fairness, this clip is from 2003, so the performer should have gotten much better, and she will remain nameless. I submit this to you…glean from it what you will…listen to the good natured and open-minded crowd turn like milk left out in the sun.

If you were counting at home, the premise to punchline ratio (P2PR) was about 15 to 1. She moved to LA to do that. Just sayin’ is all.

Did I mention that YouTube was just sold for $1.65 Billion? And the idea was probably thought of on the toilet…

To be continued…

After a minor glitch, it appears we’re back to our regularly scheduled program, ‘Redheads… In case you missed the last installment, you can find it on my MySpace blog. Get caught up.
As a reward for your patience in these trying times, here’s a super special bonus installment to get things back on schedule and kick off Blogtober. Just a couple random tidbits that I meant to get to last time, but ended up getting shelved for on reason or another…reheated leftovers…mmm mmm toasty.

Where to start… Well, with a birthday, comes presents. I didn’t get a whole lot of tangible stuff this year…mostly just good times with good friends. My buddy Seth got me a couple obscure kung-fu DVDs. My aunt got me cologne. I don’t usually wear cologne. I prefer my natural musk…B’eau. Since that hasn’t exactly turned my social life into the Tag bodyspray commercial I’d like it to be, I figure a better smelling Jared can only mean…I’ll be less offensive to myself when I’m all alone…so alone.
When I opened the box, my mom was beaming with the hope that this concoction contained the right chemical combination to create a single Jewish girl from thin air. “I want to see what this smells like on you,” see said as she snatched it out of my hand and proceeded to mace me like a Cincinnati Bengal during a routine traffic stop. “Do you smell it?” Well yeah, mom…since the sense of smell gets sharper when you’re BLIND! I’ve worn in twice in social settings…Love Potion #9 it ain’t.

In the news…
Los Angeles, CA – POM Wonderful, the world’s largest distributor of pomegranate juice, said it’s being targeted by Animal Liberation Front activists who are upset over product testing on mice and rabbits. An ALF spokesman denied involvement. In court papers, POM’s president said the company had been involved in “a limited amount of animal testing.”
Ok, first of all, your animal activist group is called ALF…who eats cats. Second, correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re talking about fruit juice, right? Not shampoo or battery acid or those demeaning little mouse sweaters…I mean, unless they’re directly juicing these animals, what’s the problem? Pomegranate juice is rich in anti-oxidants, which are supposed to be healthy. Could they possibly cause cancer in lab mice…? Here’s a hot tip…EVERYTHING CAUSES CANCER IN LAB MICE. I’m pretty sure cheese is a fucking carcinogen for these things. Find a cause that isn’t so benign and delicious.

Preston, CT – An archeological service unearthed American Indian artifacts on the grounds of a former state mental hospital – the proposed site of a $1.6 billion entertainment complex.
Ok…Indian burial ground, check…abandoned mental hospital, check…big development over top of it, check. I give you the script for Poltergeist 4. I’m surprised the walls of this blog aren’t bleeding.

I’m not sure how this came up, but Jessica Paquin, Patrick Harding and I determined that one of the most tasteless remakes/updates that could happen is The Blog of Anne Frank.

Upcoming chances to see Jared Live in Blogtober:
10/7 @ The Bethesda Hyatt **THIS WEEKEND**
10/17 @ Ned Devine’s in Sterling, VA
10/18 @ Drafthouse Comedy Lounge in Arlington, VA
10/24 @ American University

Come out. We’ll hang.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… This blog’s usual home is on the fritz, so I figured I’d try my first stab at a post here on the digital playground of MySpace. Even if Blogger didn’t take a shit, that’s no excuse for the near 10 day lag since the last installment. I’ve been busier than usual with what’s turned into a week-long celebration of the big 3-1. But what do I always do when I keep my loyal readers waitng…? That’s right, this’ll be an extra meaty serving of blog-a-roni. Please bear with me, though…alot of my thoughts are still in boxes…

So, the first week of the rest of my life has been pretty cool thusfar. I’ve been basking in the weeklong warm glow of birthday candles stuck in the slightly melted blowhole of Fudgy the Whale. With the revelry, has come mass consumption. I ate so much this week, Kevin Spacey could’ve used me to illustrate Gluttony in Seven. Let’s recap…
MONDAY – The official par-tay for the passage of time as it relates to me. I sent out a mass email to all the people I thought might give a damn to join me for libations at RFD in Chinatown, in the hopes that maybe two or three would show up. Attendance far exceeded my low expectations. It was very cool to see all of my various subsets of friends interacting…sort of like a support group for people who put up with me. Thanks again to my good friends, Chris, Jerry, Pam, Belen, Chrissy, Glen, Caryn, and Chris G (and thanks to MySpace, they can be your friends too!).
Total food intake: 3 Young’s Double-Chocolate Stouts and a bratwurst.
TUESDAY – I went to the Nats/Phillies game with fan of all things Philadelphian, Chris White. The man bleeds cheez whiz. I’m not usually a big fan of baseball…it bores the crap out of me on TV, but any live sporting event is enough to keep me interested. Half the fun was watching Chris tear his hair out, while he watched his dear Phillies’ playoff hopes crack like the Liberty Bell. 3/8ths of the fun is watching the game. That last sliver, for me anyway, was the discovery of my new favorite athlete name: Nook Logan. I’m fascinated by this name. Is he part Eskimo, and it’s short for Nanook? Was he conceived in the breakfast nook? Does he have a sister named Cranny? Not since D’Brickashaw, has an athlete’s name baffled me so.
Total food intake: a chicken tenders basket w/fries
WEDNESDAY – I drove up to Columbia to visit my good friends Seth and Alison and their new daughter, Hannah.

Seth got carry-out from Outback Steakhouse (I have the number on speed-dial) and we did battle on the digital gridiron of Madden. I won’t bore you with the details (yes, I know, why stop now?), suffice it to say his excuse was that he let me win because it was my birthday.
Total food intake: a Bloomin’ Onion, a house salad, and a 12oz. steak w/mashed potatoes.
THURSDAY – I joined my friends, Greg and Melanie, for yet another birthday dinner, at a Gaithersburg institution, Roy’s Place. Home to over 200 sandwiches. If you’re ever in the area, do yourself a favor. Here’s what I had:

118.	THE DRACULATM (A bloody mess.)
	Two Polish sausages wrapped in bacon, with broiled provolone cheese, buried in cole slaw & Russian dressing on French bread

When I described it to my friend, Chrissy, I believe her response was, “That would make me puke before I had my heart attack.” It was deeeelicious. I crapped dark matter afterward, but it was a small price to pay.
Total food intake: a bowl of New England clam chowder, a slice of chocolate mousse cake, and the aforementioned monstrosity.

So, at this point, I’m only a couple pounds away from having my own gravitational pull. I don’t mind, though. This has been a good week. Happy Birthday to me.

Before I go, I’d like to throw two cents in on a story from this past week. The would-be T.O. suicide attempt that’s been downgraded to an accidental overdose. Don’t think that makes it any less serious. Dr. David Banner had an accidental overdose of gamma radiation that altered his body chemistry. Now, whenever he becomes angry or outraged, a startling metamorphosis occurs…sorry…got off-track. If T.O. indeed had attempted suicide, and succeeded, I think the Dallas Cowboys should’ve been awarded and automatic playoff bid. Sorta like if your roommate in college offs himself, you get straight A’s. Also, if it was a suicide attempt, I think it unfairly raises the bar for America’s hopeless…
This guy is making millions of dollars, is a superstar in the NFL, and went to a SuperBowl, and he wants to kill himself??…my life must really not be worth living…
The suicidal have enough to worry about without you making them seem more mundane and uninteresting.

A heads-up for all of my ‘Redheads in the greater Bethesda area, I’ll be doing a set on the weekly showcase at the Bethesda Hyatt on Oct. 7th. Make the necessary arrangements to be there…we’ll hang.

Hopefully, things’ll get themselves corrected, and I’ll be back at blog HQ soon. In the meantime, please feel free to take advantage of the ample comment space below.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Thanks again to everyone who gave the blog a read in its first year. I hope you enjoyed last week’s clipshow as much as I enjoyed doing it…to you. Ever forward. Are you in as good a mood as me? I certainly hope so. The world is your burrito…with extra guacamole. Let me count the multitude of cherries in the bowl…

First and foremost, FOOTBALL IS BACK! After enduring an endless summer of golf, baseball, and the WNBA, the only sport that really matters has made its way into the national spotlight. All the speculation of preseason is finally beginning to play out on the gridiron. We’re starting to see that teams like the Ravens, Chargers, and Saints might be able to make a run. That loud sucking noise you hear is teams like the Raiders, Redskins (somebody take Danny Rouhier’s shoelaces), and Packers shitting the bed in their first two outings. I am a football fan…no one team holds my allegiance. I just like succumbing to gravity on a Sunday afternoon, sinking into the butt groove on my couch, and settling in for a day of hits like this…

Ka-freakin’-blammo. Along with the excitement of real football, of course, is the faux face off of fantasy football. D&D without the dwarves. I find that having a hand in managing a fake team makes watching the real thing all the more exciting, for the simple reason that you have a rooting interest in just about every game on the Sunday slate. Go Steelers D!! Go Peyton Manning!! Boo Plaxico Burress!! My fantasy team is not very good. My current fantasy record: 0-1-1. I’m not sure what that says about my capacity for abstract thought, but it certainly says alot for my drafting ability. I stink.

Speaking of fantasy, the second thing that has Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder is something I told you about back in May. How quickly the time flies. Finally, it has arrived. The DVD release of

And there was much rejoicing…yaaay. No longer do dorks have to put up with the revisionist bullsith that has been shoveled down our gullets by the boxed set. As it was meant to be, Han fires first, the creatures are muppets, and Boba Fett ain’t no clone. Yub yub. Sure, it means another Hutt-sized lump of cash for Lucas’ coffers, but now I can have part of my childhood back. Sounds like a fair trade. Now I can be done with him, right? Wrong. I saw something on TV the other day that may find his force deathgrip on my wallet once again. Something insidious in its mining of nostalgia and dork sensibility. Three little words that could mean the dawn of the merchandising apocalypse… Star Wars Transformers.

Yes, that would be a Millennium Falcon that turns into Han & Chewie. This is a historic crossbreed of kick ass toys. Not since they spliced a Ouija Board with a Teddy Ruxpin (he spoke in tongues and his head spun around…hours of beyond-the-grave-cassette fun) has there been a one two punch to challenge for the hearts, minds, and allowances of America’s thirty-somethings…that live in their parents’ basement. That is the demographic they’re targeting…don’t kid yourself.

Speaking of giant robots (I was, wasn’t I?), the third thing that has me smirking ear to ear is the assembly of the giant comedy robot that is the DC Standup All-Stars as we descended on the campus of American University. Chris White, Larry XL, Frank Hong, Erin Conroy, and myself combined to form Devastator and brought the funny to the disaffected youth. However, as the saying goes, “You can lead disaffected youth to comedy, but you can’t make them laugh.”

We gave them a fine show…what they took is another story altogether. One of the highlights of my set was a heckle from some joyless 18-year old. Everyone else is enjoying me, things are going swimmingly, then I hear some garbled shouting from the left side of the room. I look over and say, “huh?” His reply was, “AIDS is funnier than you.” Normally, hecklers fluster me. I don’t deal well with being taken off-script. That night was different. That night, we all got something before the show that eased our minds…our checks. There’s a quiet confidence that comes from having already gotten paid. For the benefit of the rest of the room (and to give me time to formulate a response…good heckler trick), I repeated what he said. Then I retorted, “Yes, if you had AIDS, that would be hilarious.” The kid did have a point. I’ve seen AIDS…it killed. Actually, it opened for pneumonia…that killed.

The last thing that has me all a twitter, is that I’m days away from thirty-something. This coming Sunday, the 24th, marks the 10th anniversary of my 21st birthday (it’s a milestone, dammit) . I’m not sure how I plan to celebrate yet, but I’ll be shoving a candle in something. I think I’d like to assemble a small collection of people who care that I’ve aged. Wherever and whenever this celebration occurs, you are all invited. I’ll be accepting cards, well-wishes, large cash donations, and Fudgy the Whale cakes here at Stately Stern Manor. Until then, enjoy my gift to you…

To be continued…

…And they say Latin is a dead language. ‘Redheads, time has flown. This blog is 74 posts old…or 1 in blog years (give or take a day or so). I’d like to thank everyone who has been wading in Lake Me since the beginning and all who’ve decided to take a dip along the way. Born out of a combination of boredom and peer pressure, this has evolved from unfocused protoplasm into a slightly upright cro-magnon of weekly entertainment. I learned, while I was working in radio, to write for the audience you want. If you want to reach a national audience, make a product that’ll be interesting to that kind of audience…even if you only reach a local audience to start out, a polished product will eventually bring more people in. When this started out, I realized I was writing for as few as just myself. Over the past year, the readership has grown beyond my delusions obscurity. For those of you who give a rat’s ass, here’s a brief history of the blog thus far…

9/15/05: The first entry…
I, Jared Stern, being of sound mind and flabby body, do hereby take a flailing leap into the blogosphere. This is the place for one stop shopping of my non-opinions and other non-sequitors. Hopefully this’ll end up being a funny and/or informative…complete waste of time. To be continued…

12/24/05: The hit counter is installed…
Now, going back over the math I noodled through when the counter hit 5000+, I miscalculated (shocker) the average number of hits per blog. For some reason, I grossly miscounted the number of entries since the counter was installed (I’m a writer, not a counter). I shorted myself. So, here is the new math…hopefully correct this time:

Current number of hits (minus the one I used to check it)= 6284
Number of blog entries since the counter was installed= 49
Number of times I check each entry= approx 3

So, 6284 – (3 x 49) / 49 = 125.2

Not too shabby. I’m not sure if you can call 125 people “masses”, but it’s a heckuva lot more than I thought would end up reading my shtick.

1/18/06: The term ‘Redheads is coined…
A few people have asked me what the derivation of ‘Redheads is. Well, my name is Jared…Ja * Red. So, the ‘Red is me. A ‘Redhead is a fan of me. There aren’t alot of those, so I’ll settle for regular readers of the blog.

Over the last twelve months, I’ve pecked out all manner of anecdotes, news items, and crappy jokes. Some are worth briefly revisiting (humor me just a couple moments more) Here now, are five of my favorite chunks of bloggy goodness from the past year…

5) From 11/22/05… Those of you who are familiar with my act (all two of you) know that one of the jokes I tell is about seeing a bumper sticker that asks, “How Would Jesus Drive?” My answer…he would probably hydroplane alot. It’s on my CD. I’ve been telling it since ’03. Well, at the showcase, one of the comics made mention that if Jesus were driving somewhere, he’d hydroplane. At the same time, he might as well’ve punched my pet hamster in the nuts. Best case scenario? It’s a simple case of parallel thinking. His ten thousand monkeys, hammering away on their ten thousand typewriters, just happened to write a page of Shakespeare and come up with the same joke. He doesn’t know who the hell I am and, but for seeing him tonight, vice versa. It happens. Suck it up, Jared. Worst case? He lifted the notion off of the website where it comes up in the random joke box. That would be disappointing AND shitty. I think what was most disheartening was that he didn’t tell it right and it bombed. I sound petty as hell right now, I know, but it’s like someone took your kid to a party and fed him so much cake and candy that he puked on the gift table, and now YOU get blamed for being a bad parent. Just sayin’…that was not my kid’s fault.

4) From 12/04/05… If you happened to catch the Bengals/Steelers game, perhaps you too heard Dick Enberg say the following: “These quarterbacks are like opera singers. Lots of gesticulating.” Here’s a tip, Dick: Know your audience. Odds are, the closest your average Steelers fan has come to an opera singer is that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd sings, “KILL THE WABBIT!”. And when most football fans hear that a quarterback is gesticulating, they think he’s jiggling the center’s yambag at the line of scrimmage. Just say that he’s talking with his hands, Dick.

3) From 1/12/06… The cherry on top of this turd sundae was watching my Terps get their asses served al dente by Duke…in HD. Every misstep in vivid detail. The Terps had 30 turnovers. I’ve seen fewer balls thrown away in a dog neutering facility.

2) From 2/16/06… It was 66 degrees today. The area’s worst blizzard was four days ago. Saturday, I thought I was going to have to subsist on toilet paper and milk sandwiches for the next week…today, a penguin knocked on my door to ask to sublet my freezer. Did Channel 9’s Topper Shutt run down a family of gypsies? That’s the only way I can explain this weather. Tomorrow look for a high of 60 and lo…custs.

1) From 8/29/06… 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.

To wrap up the year recap…

Ok…enough of the self-important horn tootin’. Your comedy homework for the week is to go check out the reassembly of the giant comedy robot, the DC Standup All-Stars at American University’s Mary Graydon Center on Wednesday the 13th (this is being posted on the 13th, so…tonight) @ 7pm. The show is FREE.

Thanks for the year…here’s hoping you stick around for the next.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… It is my intention to be straight with you, my loyal readers. So, I have to level with you. This installment of the blog is going to be woefully thin. Look closely and you’ll be able to see its ribcage. The next blog, however, will be a blogbuster…the one year anniversary of this exercise in self-important blatherskite. It’ll be jam-packed with all manner of reminiscence about stuff that you didn’t really care about when it happened in the first place. I’m just sayin’…cut this installment some slack, because the next one is gonna knock your socks off (try to remember to wear socks when you read it…otherwise it might skin your feet).

Normally, I save the obituaries ’til the end of the blog, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the freak death of Steve Irwin. Yes, it’s time to have a moment of silence…with an Australian accent, to have a 21 boomerang salute, and to shed a tear in your bloomin’ onion for the khaki-clad croc hunter. After cheating death by cavorting with some of the most dangerous predators on the planet, he was felled by an unexpected foe. He was filming a new special to be called The World’s Most Venomous off the Great Barrier Reef, when a stingray gave love…a bad name. I need to purge the crappy jokes from my system here, so I won’t be tempted to join the chorus of hacks who’ll use this as an excuse to club the shit out of the dead horse that is his impression. Here’s how short on substance this blog is…I going to cite another blog. That of Jessica Paquin, who crystallized the comic ramifications perfectly. I’d just like to say to Jessica…get out of my head…and into my car…

Worse, and more tragic, than his actual death are all of the hack, piece of shit comics that immediately whipped out their “little journals of big laughs” and began feverishly scribbling down the comedy gold that will shoot them to stardom once they can fully implement a hokey Australian accent. So many will attempt to resurrect the poor, crazy Aussie bastard through a seemingly endless string of shitty impressions with shitty punchlines. Not unlike the comics that have the audacity to pull out the overdone hack Crocodile Hunter jokes before, now that he is dead, the “jokes” that surround him should be buried along with his body, but won’t. Let it go, kids. It wasn’t funny then and it won’t be funny now. Let him just be dead. All I’m saying is: Rest in peace Steve, and may all the shitty comics in the world allow you to do the same. I only hope they can wait for Arnold Schwarzenegger to keel over. That’s a body that will be kicked long after it has gone cold. It’s cheating comedy when you it’s something so easy. I’d rather see death cheated than comedy.

Amen, sister.

From the tragic to the sublime, I bring good tidings from the sold out The Labor Day Poonanza. Kudos to Larry Poon, Jim Marsdale, Randy Ford, Deaf Jim, Ryan Conner, Danny Rouhier, Kojo Mante (the REAL one), Seaton Smith, Jeff Maurer, Justin Schlegel, Jay Hastings, Tom Myers, and Quincy Ledbetter for putting on an inspired bit of comic gluttony. The DVD is forthcoming, and I hope a couple of the sketches make their way to YouTube or some other place where they can get exposure to the masses.
After the show the party moved over to Millie and Al’s, where we were joined by Jon Mumma…who was, oddly, nowhere to be seen during the show (yeesh…paper-thin AND full of inside jokes…stay with me, people). Man, Larry Poon knows how to party. Buxom Slovenian women on both arms, each taking turns pouring vodka and Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper down his gullet as he gargled the theme from Taxi. He is an inspiration to all of us who think that a mug of Miller Lite and whistling the end credits from The Incredible Hulk is any way to throw down. So, after my mug was empty and my lips chapped from the effort, I had to pee somethin’ fierce. As I finished up and exited the stall, the guy waiting his turn remarked to me, “I can’t believe there’re only two urinals in this place.” I shot back, in typical guy-banter fashion, “Yeah, the last thing you want is a line for the men’s room.” He zings, “Or a lion king.” Perplexed, and not wanting to violate any unwritten man-law, I simply affirmed, “You got that right,” as I walked back to the bar. I can’t imagine that women engage in this primitive haiku that guys do. The typical diagram breaks down like this: Two guys who don’t know each other engage in a brief superficial conversation that consists of no less than two, but no more than four lines, the last line of which is always, “You got that right,” or some variation thereof. The first line is typically a quip or observation that isn’t really funny or insightful, but in order to not be awkward, the respondent will force a laugh or break out the, “You got that right,” and be on his way.

We are an odd breed. If he were still alive, Steve Irwin would tag us and track our hapless mating habits. Here’s to ya, Steve.

To be continued…

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…