JARED STERN'S ONLINE COMEDY CUBICLE

Hey there ‘Redheads… ’06 is a week away from being an I Love The special on VH1. The last couple days are going to be spent in a lazy haze of recovery from Xmas and preparation to celebrate the passage of time. A couple random things to get to in what will probably be the last installment of the year. It won’t be a recap, mostly because I’m simply not able to recall that much. Here, however, are the Top 3 things that happened to your favorite amiable zany this year…
#3. Lucking into opening for Train in front of 4000 people at the Erie Civic Center. The largest crowd I’ve ever been in front of, times 10.
#2. Featuring at the DC Improv. Big thanks to Chip Franklin for getting violently ill, which led to me filling in for him.
#1. Becoming an uncle. You’ve seen the pictures. Little Mo is cuter than the 1000 words those pictures are worth.
Speaking of little Moseph, my sister brought him to town to visit with me and the grandparents for a belated Hanukkah get-together. The highlight gift given was two sheets of stamps that my sister gave my parents that had Mo’s picture on them…Mostage.

I mentioned this installment was random, here’s something to make sure of it. This is an excerpt of an IM conversation that I had with avant gardian, Jerry Thomas:
Jared: I’m doing some career exploration…looking into voicework
Jerry: of what sort?
Jared: commercials, cartoons, etc… a friend of mine has a studio
Jerry: cool. pick me up some of that work while you’re over there
Jared: I’ll see what I can do
Jerry: thank you. you’re being a real sport about this
Jared: yes…badminton. although it can be argued that isn’t a real sport
Jerry: I think a real sport must include the possibility that one of the participants could be dead at the end of it
Jared: a shuttlecock in the eye will slow a guy down
Jerry: yeah, but it’s not like get your head severed by a hockey skate
Jared: true
Jerry: it’s not like pouring tabasco down a dolphin’s blow hole either
Jared: …also true
Jerry: sorry. I don’t know why I said that
Jared: you have a knack for knowing what stuff isn’t like
Jerry: I’m a genius!

Continuing with the randonimity (look it up), I’m happy to give you the latest video collaboration with freckled funnyman, Chris White. It’s called 10,000 Miles and Runnin’. It shows what happens when that special relationship between man and bike goes the distance. I appear in the latter half of the vid. See if you can spot the irony when I show up. Enjoy.

Look for plenty more video projects in ’07, including the second installment of GUYS WATCHING 24. Also coming in 2007, a brand new, fully functional, JaredLive.com. I know. You’re welcome.

Finally, I was saddened to find out that the world lost one of it’s greatest performers, James Brown. After all those years of clean living… He was, of course, known as the Godfather of Soul or Soul Brother #1, but he also held office…

December 9, 2003– US Secretary of State Colin Powell has named James Brown, the so-called “Godfather of Soul,” to a new and unusual, but apparently fictitious, senior diplomatic position, the State Department said today. Spokesman Richard Boucher confirmed that Powell had indeed appointed Brown to be the first US “Secretary of Soul and Foreign Minister of Funk” but said the job description for the post had not yet been drawn up.

He didn’t know karate, but he knew ca-razy. In looking for a proper tribute to the man who gave us Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag and Livin’ in America, I found a cool short film that he did with Clive Owen and Gary Oldman, called Beat the Devil.

Here’s to everyone who laughed with, at, and near me in 2006. Let’s do it all again next year.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Sorry I’m late, but I’ve been burning the candle at both ends the last week, and I simply was unable to find the inspiration or the energy to get to the blog in time. Besides, not a lot of blog worthy stuff has happened and it’s taken me a bit longer to compile enough stuff to fill this installment. But, you don’t come here for excuses…you come here for…well, what the hell do you come here for, exactly? While we try to noodle that one through, let’s get to the heart of things (then, on to duodenum)…

Last Friday, I ventured into the blustery cold to bathe my ears in some funk. I went to see Victor Wooten at the 9:30 Club. Victor is a virtuoso of el quatro stringendo solo basso profundo de electronique *ahem*. He plays the bass…has since he was 2. Seeing him live is a jaw-dropping musical religious experience. The club was packed mostly with local musicians who came to pay tribute to a living legend. I was able to get a spot right in front of the stage, where the sound thumped right through you. At one point, I think my heart actually started beating in 11/4 time. Those of you who are musicians, and know what that is, can probably get an idea of how cool this show was. For those of you who need the audio/video, here’s Victor and his brother Reggie having a thump-off…

Can’t fake the funk. The one downside to a show at the 9:30 Club, is having to stand for the whole show. Forget barking, my dogs were whimpering. The pain was more than worth it to stand about a foot and a half away from Victor whilst he works his magic.

I came up with an idea for a one-panel cartoon, but I don’t know how to draw. Here’s the premise: Where’s Waldo is at the gym, getting ready to lift a barbell as somebody walks by. The caption reads, “Hey buddy, can ya spot me?” It’s funny on a third-grade level, but it cracked me up.

I mentioned earlier that I’ve been burning the candle at both ends recently. Last night pretty much ran me out of wax. I picked up a one-nighter as a favor to a buddy of mine, Paul Lyons, who wanted me as the feature. Unfortunately, I agreed to do it before I MapQuested the location. Fishersville, VA…which, according to MapQuest was 2hrs 45min away. This didn’t take into account having to fight through rush hour traffic for an additional 30. So, trip time there: 3hrs 15min. And, I had to drive back home after the gig so I could go to work today (I called in sick). The gig was on the downside of ordinary…smallish crowd…no cd sales…but the pay was decent. Then there was the trip home. 2hrs 15min. I don’t think I could’ve gotten home faster if I’d slingshot myself around the sun (professional driver…closed course…do not attempt). I caught my second wind when I realized that the trip could’ve qualified as a quantum leap.

Before I wrap up this installment, there is, once again, some sad business to attend to. We lost Peter Boyle this week. Sure, his most visible work was on Everybody Loves Raymond, but I never watched that show. I remember him from obscure classic flicks like Turk 182! or The Dream Team, where he played an escaped mental patient who thought he was Jesus Christ. To me, he’ll always be the lovable monster in one of the funniest movies ever made, Young Frankenstein. Most tributes focus on the classic Puttin’ on the Ritz scene, but I don’t give you the same old rehashed crap that everyone else does…I give you completely different crap. Here’s one of the funniest scenes in the movie, between the monster and the lonely blind man, played by a young Gene Hackman…

Your comedy homework this weekend is to go see comedy dynamo Justin Schlegel and Danny Rouhier at the first ever Saturday comedy night at Ned Devine’s in Sterling. There will be a quiz later.

Oh, and Happy Hannukah. Have a latke on me.

To be continued…

Greetings from beyond the great white north, ‘Redheads… I’m back from a particularly nippy weekend in Buffalo, NY. Ah, yes…comedy takes me to all of the glamorous ports of call. A big thanks to Randy, Tracy, Mike, and the rest of the great staff at the Comix Cafe, for a great slate of shows. Before I get to the details of the trip, lemme dole out a few kudos:
#1. Erin Jackson, on her recent victory in Funniest Person in Baltimore contest, the NCAA Tournament of local comedy. Instead of March Madness, it’s July Jubilation/August Absurdity/September Stupidity/October Obsessiveness/November Neurosis. A veritable marathon of mirth, except without the chapped nipples or Kenyan domination.
#2. The 12 comedy brethren who made their case for television exposure last Tuesday at the DC Improv Comedy Central showcase. Even cooler than watching them ripping it up, was the show of support by the rest of the DC community. We are fam-i-ly.
#3. Rob Maher for taking one of his weekly open mics to Saturday prime time. Ned Devine’s is a great room for comedy, and Rob has done well to help it reach it’s full potential. Also, because he helped me remember that Kenyans always win marathons. Jack of all trades, he is.
Ok, with the virtual high-fiving out of the way, let’s get to the meat of this burrito.

On Thursday, I loaded up the truck and embarked on the 7+ hour drive to Buffalo, NY. Despite the mild weather we’d been enjoying, I was warned that the outlook for the remainder of the week was bleak and that my tan-tan would freeze before I reached the first marker. To which I replied, “Then I’ll see you in hell” (and I thought that reference smelled bad…on the outside).
Editor’s note: It was only a matter of time before I started going senile and repeating myself. I give you the following excerpt from February of this year…
Last night, the Blizzard of ’06 hit. A foot of snow dropped on a city that had been enjoying 60 degree days in January. DC was turned into a frozen wintry landscape. I was worried my tan-tan would freeze before I hit the first marker (and I thought that reference smelled bad…on the outside). I stand by the reference.
The trip up was largely uneventful until I stopped at a rest area on the turnpike to cram some cuisine from the Burger Kingdom into my head hole (no, the other one). I pulled in just as two busloads of high schoolers, with their sculpted bed-heads and zest for life, emptied into the rest area. As I bent an ear to their in-joking and awkward social interactions while I waited in line behind them, I felt an odd kinship with these scamps. It didn’t take me long to figure out why…they were theater geeks. As Steven Wright once quipped, “I like to reminisce with people I don’t know…granted, it takes longer.” I should’ve done my duty as a comic and started asking questions about where they were from and what production they were in, so as to properly mock them here, but as a card-carrying member of Springbrook H.S. Stage Crew, I couldn’t betray my past.
Nearing Buffalo, things got dark. At 4:00pm. A massive cloud pretty much swallowed the sky. Rather than rehash another reference from an earlier blog, I’ll forgo any mention of The Nothing and just say it was a down comforter of nastiness and forboding. Then came the cold November rain. Buckets of cats and dogs rain. This dreary bit of meteorology led to a less than stellar turn-out that night at the club. 55 people showed up to a room that holds 250. And they were not in a laughing mood.
Before, I go further, allow me to tell you a bit about the guy I was working with this weekend. As is blog policy, I won’t be naming names since this won’t exactly be complimentary. Not necessarily a bad guy, but an insufferable sad sack and a hack to boot. If he wasn’t complaining about his cellphone battery, he was trying to steer any conversation to him and some C grade name-dropping. A hairy lump of a man. I had high hopes because his credits said that he wrote for National Lampoon. Come to find out, he was mainly responsible for comma placement. His act was just reheated overused dreck…which the audience gladly lapped up, mind you. If you were on a hack scavenger hunt, you could put a check by the following items:
-If I have a 4-hour erection, I’m not calling a doctor…
-Are the speed limit signs just a suggestion around here?
-What’s with Braille on drive-thru ATMs?
-I’m sweating like a gay guy eating a hot dog…
-Where were the hot teachers having sex with kids when I was in school?
-Lorena Bobbit joke
The rest just kinda run together, but you get the idea. To top it off, not only was he a hack in the figurative sense, but I had to listen to him hack up phlegm from the adjacent room in the condo. Yech, with a side of blech. Luckily, my interesting person quota was filled by the MC, Tom Tran. He’s a DJ at local rock station 103.3, The Edge. Also come to find out that he’s an 8 year vet of special ops and got into comedy as a way to ease the stress that was brought on the battlefield. I will never complain about the “hardships” in my life nearly as loud anymore. Why? Because I saw video of Tom GETTING SHOT IN THE HEAD. He was shooting video during a routine sweep that turned into a firefight. It’s nuts. It was made all the more surreal watching it on his PSP. He was pretty much the polar opposite of Hacky McDouchebag. Tom also hipped me to this little nugget about Dane Cook in Rolling Stone. Definitely worth a read.

On Friday, the rain was joined by 50-60mph wind gusts. I wasn’t going to let that keep me from getting away from Eyore for a couple hours. I met up with my cousin, who attends the University of Buffalo, for wings at a Buffalo institution, Duff’s. If you’re ever in the area, do yourself a favor sit down for a plate of tingly deliciousness. Unfortunately, the tastiness of the wings going in is directly proportional to the pain upon it’s fiery exit. My tummy is not made of the cast iron that I assumed it was, and in between shows it reminded me that while I may’ve removed the headstones, I DIDN’T REMOVE THE BODIES!! Oh, the unholy exorcism that took place in men’s bathroom was an epic battle between good and evil. Telling it to “get thee behind me” seemed redundant, but it made me feel better in the end (you heard me).

Saturday was easily the best night of the weekend. Not only were both shows well attended, but it was some of the most fun I’ve had on stage in awhile. I need to do that more often. All in all, Buffalo treated me well. I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to get to the Seneca Niagara casino to try and win back my money from last time. In retrospect, it’s probably for the best. Over there, the wigwam always wins.

It’s gettin’ late. Sleep dep and blogging don’t mix well.

To be continued…

Hey there, ‘Redheads… My head is swimming in a haze of snot right now. I’m doing my darndest to evict whatever leased out space in my sinuses. It’s messing with the plumbing, apparently. Two tablets of Tussin are on the job. I’ve got a road trip coming up that I’d rather not be sick for. We’ll get to that in a bit. I just wanted to let you know what I go through to get this blog to you.
I hope you had a fun, non-confrontational, Thanksgiving. Mine was both of those. I went up to Philly to spend time with the big ball of cute that is my nephew. Turkey was had. Football was watched. Pretty much par for the course. I’m proud of myself for not shoveling too much into my head hole. Maybe if I crammed another helping of mashed potatoes in there, there wouldn’t be room for this cold.
On Saturday, I went back to my old ‘hood for a party for my buddy Richard, who was able to pass the bar (so, hooray for AA). He’s the guy in charge of upkeep for JaredLive.com, which has been stagnant while he was in law school. He promises it’ll be back up and current soon…he better, or I’ll sue his ass…I like my chances.

I’m looking forward to a couple things that’re swiftly approaching. First, which you may’ve noticed from the title, is tomorrow’s release of the Superman 14 DVD boxed set. Upside: it includes the new movie, Superman Returns, and a brand new cut of one of my favorite movies, Superman II. Oh yeah…Kneel before Zod. This includes all of the footage that was left on the cutting room floor when the original director, Richard Donner, was fired more than halfway through filming. This version gets to the action quicker and does away with needless fluff. The movie’s climactic battle in the streets of New York is still one of the best comic book fights on film…still holds up nearly 30 years later. I can’t wait to see what the new version looks like. Hopefully it’ll settle some unresolved issues…

Downside: it includes Superman IV: The Quest For Peace…hey, they can’t all be winners.

In keeping with the theme of the title, the second thing I’m looking forward to is shuffling off to Buffalo on Thursday for a slate of shows at the Comix Cafe. I had a great time last time I was there. I plan to feast on many a sauced chicken appendage. I also have some unfinished business with the Seneca Indian tribe. They have $100 of mine that I’d like to reclaim. Here’s hoping I can play a better game of poker than I did last time (I yelled out “go fish”…not good). A full recap of my Buffalonian exploits will be here next time.

With time passing as quickly as it is, I can’t wait for the return of the longest day of the year, 24. FOX is showing the promos, and they take me to a happy place. My Mondays are yours, Jack. I’ve reinforced the edge of my seat, so it’ll last the whole season. Look for a new installment of Guys Watching 24…it may not be there, but at least it’ll drive up the hit count for the current one.

Your comedy homework is due tomorrow night. At the DC Improv, a group of DC’s finest comics will be assembled to strut their stuff for some suits from Comedy Central. This could be a big break for them, and the chances of that increase with a larger crowd in attendance. Go support. Despite not making the list, I’ll be there to live vicariously through my comedy brethren. However, I will be ready for action, in case one of them happens to get Nancy Kerriganed outside the club before showtime. It’s a night of big dreams, is all I’m saying. I could sum it up best with one of my favorite exchanges from Superman II…

ZOD: What do you want?
LUTHOR: General, the world is a big place. Thank goodness, my needs are small. As it turns out, I have this affinity for…beach front property.
ZOD: What do you want?
LUTHOR: Australia!

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Boy, am I glad I didn’t write this yesterday. I was in a kind of self-loathing blue funk that made it seem that things sucked so much that light couldn’t escape. Apparently, you guys were lax in sending positive mojo my way, because I did not get cast for that talk show I auditioned for *sigh*. Congrats to comedy dynamo Justin Schlegel and human cartoon Jan Johns for getting the call. Curse their very talented hides. A plague on both their hilarious houses. Finding out that I didn’t get it, stacked on top of a couple other opportunities I’ve been passed over for recently, made all of my usual ironic self-deprecating anti-hype seem plausible. Long story short: It stunk. Out loud. On ice. With a lemon twist and a dash of salt for the several thousand paper cuts on my psyche. The only thing that kept me from wondering aloud, “Why not me?” was the fear that someone would whip out list of about 50 reasons why not. Anyway, rather than sitting at home, stewing, I dragged myself out to the comedy hot spot of Ned Devine’s. That was the perfect remedy. Good friends. Good crowd. Great laughs. So, in the spirit of the holiday, thanks to Rob Maher, Jessica Paquin, Brian Jett, Bird Knight, Hampton, Tyler Richardson, Jim Elliott, and everyone else who unknowingly took the thorn out of my paw with their camaraderie. Chalk up another quality of the blog…cheaper than therapy.

Ok, enough of that noise. I did something a couple days ago that I’m not proud of and I’m here to take responsibility for it. I sent a mass email forward. A chain letter. I hadn’t had enough sleep the night before and, in a moment of weakness, thought Bill Gates might send me money for every person I forwarded an email to. The last thing I ever want to do is perpetuate that kind of pointless unfunny garbage. To anyone who I might’ve sent that to, I apologize unreservedly. I offer a complete and utter retraction. The imputation was completely without basis in fact and in was in no way fair comment…and was motivated purely by malice. And I deeply regret any distress the email may have caused you, or your family, and I hereby undertake not to repeat any such action at any time in the future. We good? Ok then.

If you’d like a taste of my weekend hijinks, please to be reading Joe Robinson’s blog. I’ll give you my take on it in the next installment. In the meantime, I hope everyone has a gravy drenched Turkey Day. I’ll be back to my usual cheery blogging self when I wake up from the food coma.

To be continued…

Maybe that’ll help increase ratings. For as good a show as Heroes is, that whole Save the Cheerleader thing is cornier than Orville Reddenbacher’s will reading. Just sayin’. Hey there ‘Redheads… This week’s installment is going to be chock full of random goodness.

You’ll remember that last time I told you I was the the uncle of a nameless new nephew. Well, as of Wednesday, I’m happy to report that the little ball of cute was dubbed Moshe…I’ll be calling him Mo. I mentioned before that the ceremony took place at a kosher diner. A bris & breakfast. I felt bad for the little guy…he thought he was going for pancakes. He was incredibly well behaved, considering what was being done. A few of the adults cried more than he did. Care to see another of what will be a series of adorable pictures? I knew you did…

On Friday, I went to audition for some sort of talk show in Baltimore. Details were spotty at best, but they were looking for funny folk to potentially host, and I was one of the many that answered the call. There was a mix of actors and comics who came out for this thing. I ran into two of my favorite characters, comedy dynamo, Justin Schlegel and human cartoon, Jan Johns. To hear these two talk is like shoving peyote buttons in your ears. Both of ’em have their switches stuck in the “on” position. I did my best to contribute to the conversation, but it was like drinking a mint chocolate chip milkshake…delicious, yes, but I was the chip that got jammed in the straw. There was also no shortage of hot actresses. One gal, who’s name unfortunately escapes me, had the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I needed water-wings to peer into her peepers. Bay windows to her soul, they were. Anyway, the audition ended up being about two minutes of stand-up in front of three guys and a camera, then a small improved scene. They laughed at me, so I think things went well…I’m keeping the expectations nice and low. Feel free to send any positive mojo my way.

Here’s a curious news nugget I spotted in the Sports section of last Thursday’s USA Today…
The scene that unfolded following this year’s U.S. Open women’s final was classic tennis theater of the absurd. As 19-year-old Russian star Maria Sharapova slugged her way to the title, television cameras caught members of her camp holding up a banana and flashing four fingers from the stands – possible evidence of coaching, which is illegal in tennis. She was later seen eating a banana at courtside. Sharapova later deflected questions about the fruit by declaring, “I believe at the end of the day, my life is not about a banana.”
Are they sure that that was a member of her camp? I ask you, what guy doesn’t want to watch Maria Sharapova eat a banana? I’m just saying, I’m sure there was another lonely putz, on the other side of the stadium, coaching her to eat a foot-long hot dog, then squeeze mustard on her chest.

The following is a presentation from the world of Dork. If that’s not your particular brand of vodka, you may want to just skip down to the next bit. For the rest of you, put down the 20-sided dice and check this out. I’m not usually a huge fan of homemade Star Wars films, but this one is pretty damn sweet.

See what a Star Wars project looks like with a little fun injected into it? Take notes, Lucas. Your prequels were as joyless as Condoleeza Rice attending a puppy’s funeral…with droids. Ok, I’m done. I just think that a couple franchises would do well in the hands of well meaning fans with the technical know-how. I submit Exhibit B…

We wrap up this week’s installment on a somber note, as we lost a film icon over the weekend. Sadly, Jack Palance is now doing one-armed push-ups at the Oscars in the sky (I hear Passion of the Christ swept…again). He was 87. Most people thought he was closer to 97…or dead five years already. He’s the second member of the cast of City Slickers to die in the last few months. Someone check on Daniel Stern. Mr. Palance, you…were our #1…guy (extra credit if you got that reference).

To be continued…

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…