JARED STERN'S ONLINE COMEDY CUBICLE

When it rains, it pours. If wetness is the essence of beauty, then the last 7 days have been fuckin’ beautiful. ‘Redheads, it has been too long. My apologies for contributing to the delinquency of my blog. I received this response to the placeholder Coming Soon blog I put up: WEAK….Hella WEAK…seriously? Seriously I loaded this page for that…..what a waste of all that Al Gore created for us. WEAK….I can’t believe my comments are longer than your blog. That is just plain sad.
It won’t happen again. We good? Ok then. Let’s get on to the business of retelling the good, the bad, and the downright tragic. Poppin’ a recap in your ass.

Let’s begin where I last left you. Your homework was to go check out my fellow Guys Watching 24 (still conveniently linked to your right) co-stars, Chris White and Danny Rouhier at the DC Improv with Adam Ferrara. I went ahead and did the assignment too. Turned out to be an awesome night on a few levels. Level 1: Danny and Chris had great sets in front of a sold-out crowd. It was also a pleasure to finally see Adam Ferarra live. He is a great example of what separates a true headliner from a guy who can do 45 minutes. To me, anyway, a headliner needs to leave the audience with something. He or she should lead them down a rabbit hole and give them a glimpse of something they haven’t thought of or seen before. Adam Ferrara did just that, and had the crowd hanging on his every word. Very cool. Level 2: When I got to the club, they were slightly understaffed. So, rather than simply freeload, I got put to work. I was put in charge of the light…the signal that tells the comic on stage how much time they have left. There’s a delicate art to giving somebody the light. You need to make sure they see it, but, at the same time, you don’t want to be distracting to the performer. It takes a certain amount of poise on the comic’s part to see the light mid-joke and not break stride. That comes with experience. Most open-mikers don’t know to look for the light, and when they do see it they treat it like the neuralizer from Men In Black. It was a fun bit of responsibility…I wasn’t drunk with power, but I was sipping it…especially when I lit Adam Ferrara. Level 3: The DC Improv is going through some renovation and expansion. The bathrooms are now fully functional and a wall has been erected behind the curtain that drapes the walkway from the green room to the stage. For those of you that’ve been there, this means the patrons are no longer able to back up their chairs into the walkway. Unfortunately, the air conditioning wasn’t functioning. This made the evening sticky, sweaty, and otherwise swampy. Pardon this imagery, but by the end of the night, my nutsack was stuck to my inner thigh like a wacky wall-walker…and my asscrack could breed mosquitoes. Secret Level: One of the cool things about a club like the DC Improv, is that every once in awhile a big name will show up unannounced. Dave Chappelle has done it recently. Well, this night we got a surprise visit from SNL alum, Kevin Nealon. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to meet him…or light him.

Before I went inside the club, I spotted a homeless guy begging for change…not so much begging as bugging. He had an empty Coke cup that he held outstretched, and when the inevitable passer-by shrugged him off, he followed behind them for about 100 feet, clearing his throat. Now, I have never been homeless. I have, however, been locked out of my house. That was frustrating as hell (I’m not trying to diminish their situation, I’m just saying there but for the grace of God go I). So, these people have to deal with that frustration every day. If I was homeless, and my survival depended on the charity of strangers, I’d like to think I could give them a reason to part with their change. Por ejemplo, the homeless guy I encountered the next night as I was going to meet my family for dinner. I was about to parallel park, and this guy began waving me into the spot. I didn’t need the help, but he was willing to offer it. Putting forth an effort. I was more than willing to give him a couple of bucks after he offered to watch my car. Comics sing for their supper on a nightly basis, so I can appreciate when a guy in need does what he can to sway an otherwise indifferent stranger.

Editor’s note: I’ve decided to break this entry up into two parts. For those of you clamoring to know how I did in the finals of the Funniest Jewish Comic contest, that will be posted in a day or so.

When you hear about the weather related fatalities from the past week, more often than not, they’re anonymous, but for the mention in the paper. Unfortunately, this time, I was not so lucky. Marlie Griffin, a local actress who I had the privilege of sharing the stage with, died in a car accident in Sunday night’s storm. She was 43. In every creative endeavor that I’ve entered into, I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by talented people. She was one of them. Marlie, you will be missed.

To be continued…soon, I promise…

‘Redheads, please don’t judge stand-up comedy by what you see on Last Comic Standing. I have the show on in the background as I type this. If I knew nothing else about stand-up except the apparent under-developed reconnaissance photo that this dreck is, I’d rank it just below birthday clowning on the ol’ respect-o-meter. We’re better than this. At least, I hope to hell that I am.

I hope all of you had a fine Father’s Day. My parents and I traveled to Philly to visit my sister and her husband. We got the fam-damn-ly together for a cookout and a Fudgy the Whale cake. I haven’t spent much time in Philly, so it was cool to get a chance to take a stroll through the historic area and down South St. It was HOT. It was very interesting to see everyone in the city making their own…gravy. Here’s a fun faux paz I heard on the radio on the drive up… Hey, Happy Father’s Day everybody. Now here’s Eric Clapton with Tears in Heaven. Great way to commemorate the day for dads…by playing a song that a guy wrote for his 4-year old son that fell out a window. That ranks right up there with when I heard Metallica’s Fade to Black and Shinedown’s (Staring Down the Barrel of a) 45 played back to back. You know some depressed teen took that as a sign.

Now, on to the title of this blog. In this day and age of easy access and instant gratification, it’s easy to focus just on what you already like and maybe overlook an underexposed hidden gem. If you’re a fan of music, bargains, and just plain cool shit, then I highly recommend you check out Joe’s Record Paradise. When I was in high school, and knew jack squat about music, I would sift through the wide selection at Joe’s and choose the CD with the coolest cover art. This was the first one that caught my eye…

This is The Bogeymen’s There Is No Such Thing As. It was the only album they ever record. No one has ever heard of these guys. It’s one of my favorite albums. I found myself back at Joe’s a couple days ago, and thought I’d give my old system a whirl. This grabbed my attention’s ass (look carefully)…

Treephort’s Use Your Illusion III. A fun little punk record that’s over before you can get tired of it. I think all six tracks ran about 17 minutes. But that’s 17 minutes more than the real GnR has done in the last 15 years.

Because I have to get up an hour early for work tomorrow, there will be no new update to the joke-a-day in June this time. My sloth is getting the better of me…I’m a couple days behind… Ok. 5. I’ll have a whole mess of pithy one-liners in the next installment. In the meantime, here’s some homework for you. Go see my buddies Chris White and Danny Rouhier over at the DC Improv this week w/Adam Ferrara. Or go see my buddy Rob Maher up at the Baltimore Comedy Factory w/Jim Florentine. And for extra credit… I have some laundry that needs folding.

To be continued…

Greetings from beyond the Big Apple, ‘Redheads… Yesterday, I took a trip up to New York with my buddy Adam Ruben, to compete in the prelims of the Funniest Jewish Comic contest at the world famous Laugh Factory. More on how well we represented DC/Baltimore in a moment.
Adam Ruben is a very smart guy. He’s in graduate school at John’s Hopkins University for microbiology. If that gig doesn’t work out, he has the comedy to fall back on. Well, before we could begin our roadtrip, he had to tend to the lofty business of finding a cure for malaria. This involved injecting mice with the disease and then injecting them with something that’ll either cure it or help write the next Secret of NIMH sequel. The best laid plan was for me to meet him up in Baltimore around noon, then we’d hop in his car and hit the road with plenty of time to both find parking and avoid rush hour. Here’s the call I got at 11:00… Hi, Jared…it’s Adam. You might want to hold off on heading to Baltimore for a bit. I just accidentally stuck myself with a needle that had malaria-infected blood. The first thought that would go through a normal person’s head would be I hope he’s ok or Maybe we should call off the trip… Not me. The first thought that went through my head was Shit, now I’m going to have to drive. Those other thoughts came next, but they should’ve been first is all I’m sayin’. It turned out that he was fine…whether he has since developed super-mouse gnawing powers, I have no idea. This minor scare did, however, push our departure time from noon to 2:30. We had to be in NY at 6:00 for roll call. To save time, I drove. I’m a bit of an aggressive driver. I gave Adam some minor palpitations…he kept checking his seatbelt connection and he left a handprint in my oh-shit handle so deep it was philosophical.
We ended up making great time…we arrived the toll for the Lincoln Tunnel at 5:30, full of hope. Then our fast-paced hope hit a bottleneck of sluggish frustration as the six lanes of toll traffic had to squeeze into the two lanes of the tunnel. We sat in that for roughly 45 minutes. Over that time, we got a great view of billboards for Panasonic HDTV and the Yaris…I now have a seething, middle finger-popping hatred for both products. We finally emerged from the tunnel into the bright lights of the big city…or the sun…yeah, I think it was the sun. Luckily for us, the club was only two blocks away from us and we found reasonable parking just across from the tunnel. On to the contest.
The Laugh Factory is a pretty big club. It has at least 3 rooms that can handle full-fledged shows, and it has a labyrinthic quality to it. When we got to the roll call, we were met by the contest organizers from Jewish Week and our 20 other fellow competitors, including Matt Liebman, a talented young comic from UMD’s Bureau. It turned out that the club had grossly underestimated the turnout of both comics and the sheer size of their Jewish support groups. As a result, they split us into two shows to keep things manageable. The top three from each show would advance to the finals. This worked out well because, by sheer luck of the draw, Adam and I ended up in different rooms, so we didn’t have to compete against each other. We were free to focus on other things besides beating each other’s brains in. The contestants ran the gamut, from the uninitiated to seasoned pro. We had a great crowd to work with. Packed house. After everyone got done we were treated to a great comic named Al Lubell (who, unfortunately, doesn’t have a web page, or I’d send you there). Not only was he hilarious, but he had a great hook that made sure you’d never forget his name.
Let’s get down to brass tacks. How well did Adam and I represent the DC/Baltimore Jewish comic community (which is pretty much me and Adam)? Well, in Adam’s room, Adam took first place. In my room, with plucky young whippersanpper Matt Liebman and the guy who won last year’s contest, who’s name escapes me…I took first place. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like a first place finish in the prelims of a contest to instill the kind of false bravado that’ll guarantee…that I tank in the finals. We shall see. I’ve told Adam that he can’t handle any diseased animals before the trip.

I competed in this contest back in 2003, when my aunt and uncle spotted the ad in Jewish Week and thought I should give it a shot. It was at Gotham Comedy Club that year. To prep for this year, I popped in the DVD from 2003. This was back when I was sporting the Superman S with the black leather jacket look. That subtle combination of Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock that I had no chance of pulling off. My sideburns were of unusual size…I looked like I was wearing a furry Centurion helmet. What I’m getting at is this, where were my fellow comedians to tell me what a ridiculous mess I looked like? I’m positive it was being muttered behind my back…the voices tell me it was. Sure, I probably wouldn’tve listened to you, but at least you could’ve said you tried.

Here now, are my latest updates to the joke-a-day experiment:

6/12/06: I woke up around noon today and checked my MySpace email. One of my friends had emailed me in the morning and said she wanted to go sunbathing but it was too chilly out. I emailed her back and asked her if it was still nippy outside. That’s a sure sign you have a problem. When the window you open to check the weather is on your computer.

6/13/06: I was watching ESPN2 and I saw Championship Dominoes. It’s nice to know that my dreams of eventually being on ESPN aren’t completely dashed. I’m brushing up on my Hungry Hungry Hippoes for the 2007 season.

6/14/06: Out of my entire family, I’m the only one who doesn’t wear glasses. I got my grandfather’s eyes. Which made for an awkward will reading.

On a somber note, this blog would like to bid farewell to John Tenta, who passed away after a lengthy battle with bladder cancer at the age of 42. Who was John Tenta? Wrestling fans knew him better as Earthquake.
Under the management of the Mouth of the South, Jimmy Hart, Earthquake was a force to be reckoned with in the WWF. His finisher? He sat on people. He’ll make a formidable tag team with Big John Studd at the afterlife pay-per-view.

To be continued…

‘Redheads, June is a down month for me. That’s dangerous for a guy with procrastinating tendencies. I find myself constantly grappling with sloth…not the three-toed kind…they’re scrappy. Thankfully, my dedication to my many readers, and the delusion that I have many readers, has kept me from sinking too far into the ass crease in my couch. So, for you, here’s a quick counterstrike to my laziness.

So, turns out the world didn’t collapse into demonic ruin on Tuesday…or, if it did, we were already too far gone to notice. Yep, the day of the beast came and went and the clock just keeps on ticking. I think we all know who we have to thank for that. Jack Bauer. In the 24 hours of 6/6/06, he traversed the eight rings of Hell and gave Beelzebub a taste of real time fury. We all know he has the pedigree to handle the minions of the abyss…

…that caption was cornier than it needed to be.

So, it’s potentially the last night of planet Earth. What better night to take in a horror flick at the local megaplex? I saw The Omen on Tuesday night. I was expecting alot worse than I got. While there were points when the audience was genuinely laughing at the gruesome goings on, the movie had some pretty good moments. You can’t go too far wrong with an impalation AND a decapitation that would both make Rube Goldberg proud. The film also featured a truly creepy turn by Mia Farrow and, the best nebulous accent in Hollywood, Pete Postlethwaite (who, I’ve discovered, I can do a damn fine impression of…I’ll go ahead and put that in my grab-bag of obscure voices, along with Cookie Monster and Jack Bauer). And, of course, there’s going to be an Omen 2. It’ll suck having to wait until June 6th, 3006 to see it.

I’ve encountered an interesting dilemma. On Wednesday night, a female comic from Chicago approached me after the open mic at Wiseacre’s. She told me I was “too good looking” to tell my jokes about not getting laid. Apparently, it’s not believable. Great, so the few jokes that I tell that ARE based in truth are betrayed by my inherent adorability. Hey, I wish I was making this shit up. She’s not the first person who’s told me this. This means I need to do one of two things. Either find some way to turn my life into an Axe Bodyspray commercial, or find some way to dial down the charm. Yes, I know, these are horrible problems that I’m saddled with. My gift. My curse. Pity me. Or not. No pressure.

In another attempt to stave off comedic atrophy this month, I’m going to try an exercise that should result in one or two workable new bits. Write a joke a day. I’ve been inspired by writing machines like Chris White, Erik Myers, and anyone else who’s not me. My mind works in fits and starts. Regular writing has never come naturally to me. Why not force it? You’ll see the answer, because I’ll be posting the daily jokes right here for your judging eyes. Starting…now:

6/10/06: I read a review of The Hills Have Eyes that said it “redefined horror.” Apparently, “horror” now means “shitty.”

Solid bronze.

Before I go, I’d like to make an open plea to the world of cyber-typery. If you’re trying to make a point, a rebuttal, or a statement, here’s a tip: Overuse of capitalization, exclamation points, and LOL’s make it impossible to take you seriously. You type like a 13 year old girl…or a pedophile posing as one.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… It was recently revealed to me that my act has become a kind of party game among my fellow DC comics. Count the I, uh…’s. Apparently it’s some kind of drinking game. Which makes sense. It was only a matter of time before my act drove someone to drink. Yes, it’s a stylistic crutch…used to stretch 20 minutes of good material into 30 mediocre minutes. Check out my MySpace page (conveniently linked to your right) and click on the audio clips to play the home game.

Well, it’s June ’06, which marks the one year anniversary of a great feature on DCStandup.com (also conveniently linked to your right), MonoBlog. Where area comedians submit topical/news-related jokes in late night talkshow monologue format, for your amusement and our own desperate need to see our thoughts in print. In celebration of this passage of time (and because I need to fill space), here are some of my favorite contributions to the MonoBlog…

(June 07, 2005) Teenagers who think they are too fat are more than twice as likely as normal-weight teens to attempt or think about suicide, a study found. This may be fueled by the notion that decomposition is a great way to shed those excess pounds. Suicide isn’t the way out for these kids … ’cause if they think people are judgmental HERE…

(June 14, 2005) Steve Garcia, an insulin-dependent diabetic convicted of trying to kill his wife three days after she asked for a divorce, won a chance for a new trial when the Colorado Supreme Court ruled 4 to 3 that low blood sugar can cause involuntary intoxication and leave someone incapable of following the law. His attorney has entered a plea of “not guilty by reason of cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs”. Mark Hacking, recently convicted of shooting his wife in her sleep, now wants a new trial, claiming he “did it for a Klondike Bar.”

(July 03, 2005) Forty-five people were arrested during nighttime raids for allegedly conspiring to smuggle South Korean women into the U.S. to work as prostitutes at massage parlors. It should be noted, however, this story did not have a happy ending…that costs extra.

(July 14, 2005) Just hours before the release of ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,’ news reports cite 2003 letters by then-Cardinal Ratzinger which show that Pope Benedict believes the Potter books subtly seduce young readers and “distort Christianity in the soul.” He states that the only work of fiction that is appropriate for young Christians is the Bible.

(July 15, 2005) Amma, the Indian “Hugging Saint”, was welcomed to Crystal City by a crowd of thousands who lined up to receive her healing energy yesterday. The lines were considerably shorter, however, for a guy claiming to be the Mexican “Fondling Saint” and a man offering “Noogies for a Nickel”.

(Aug. 17, 2005) The Idaho Dept. of Fish and Game is using a video game called Laser Shot to help train young hunters. In a related story, the Idaho Dept. of Health is using Pac-Man to treat eating disorders… and the Dept. of Public Works is using Super Mario Bros. as a plumbing tutorial.

(Aug. 26, 2005) A man who exposed himself to children in Fairfax County libraries is in custody. Library officials became suspicious after the children recounted the reading of the “Sammy, the Squirting Snake” pop-up book. In an ironic turn, the book was repeatedly yanked from shelves until the public was satisfied and began coming to the library.

(Sept. 06, 2005) On a tour through Houston’s AstroDome to visit hurricane refugees, Barbara Bush said that amidst the chaos and misery, she sees a “silver lining.” It was later discovered to be cataracts.

(Oct. 31, 2005) Along a stretch of the West Maui Mountains where winds blow up to 50mph, officials have broken ground on the site of what will be Hawaii’s largest wind farm. This follows the success of Hawaii’s sand ranch and oceanwater corral along the coastline.

(Nov. 14, 2005) Scientists have discovered a new hormone produced by the stomach that appears to play a crucial role in controlling appetite. Apparently, the hormone regulates the body’s ability to “make it’s own gravy.”

(May 22, 2006) Rocker Axl Rose and fashion designer Tommy Hilfiger got into a fistfight outside of a Manhattan nightclub Thursday night. The fight was apparently over who was less relevant.

(May 26, 2006) Researchers in England and the United States are laying out the blueprint and calling for help in developing the exotic materials needed to build an actual cloak of invisibility like the one in Harry Potter. Unfortunately, the technology to make a fully functioning Hermoine doll that doesn’t find them skeevy is still out of reach.

Yes, I do notice that there is a sizable gap in my entries from Nov. ’05 until about a month ago, but that’s only because I’ve been using all of my harnessed written wit for this blog…for you. It’s all for you. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed doing it to you.

If this entry seems to lack inspiration (yes, I know…how can you tell?) it’s because I wanted to get one more blog in before the end of the world on Tuesday, 6/6/06. It only comes around once every 1000 years, so something better happen besides a shitty remake of The Omen. My advice? Enjoy some live stand-up comedy to brighten your soul before it’s swallowed by the blood-crazed hellions. On Sunday, head on over to the Comedy Spot to check out the graduating class of Chris White’s College of Stand-up Knowledge (enroll today!). They’ll be joined by Rory Scovel, Erin Jackson, and yours truly for a solid comedy jamboree. On Tuesday, get your soon-to-be-flayed alive carcass down to Nanny O’Brien’s for their stellar monthly showcase. Get in one last laugh before the fiery cataclysm.

To be continued…?

Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone had a memorable Memorial Day weekend. Did you find a way to beat the heat? This was the first weekend this year that was really frickin’ hot. I have a black car…pretty much a rolling solar panel. It’s getting dangerous to keep spare change in my cup holder. I grabbed a scalding hot quarter and I felt like the bad guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark that picked up the headpiece of the Staff of Ra… y’still with me? This guy…

So, what the heck did I do this weekend? And, more to the point, why do you care? Let’s explore.
On Friday, I checked out the most recent cinematic dork milestone, X-Men: The Last Stand. How to best critique this movie? Should I wear my comic fanboy hat or my average filmgoer hat? Let’s try ’em both on. From a fanboy standpoint, the movie had a couple cool things that were fun to see translated on the screen. We finally got to see the Danger Room, a hint of a Sentinel, and the fastball special…and that was all in the first ten minutes. There was also a nice little nod/wink to the cyber-fans who churn out stuff like this. The movie also introduced a gaggle of obscure mutants from the comics that got minor moments.
On the down side, there was no Nightcrawler, no Gambit, and the movie completely wasted the coolness of Colossus, Rogue, Angel, Cyclops, Juggernaut, and the list goes on. I’ll forgive the filmmakers conveniently turning Phoenix and Juggernaut into mutants to make them easier to explain to the non-dork public. The movie itself, while visually spectacular, was a giant three-headed monster with six mouths and no eyes…very loud and had no fucking idea where it was going. Lots of sound. Lots of fury. What did it signify? X-Men 4. Yes, despite the title, this won’t the last stand for Wolverine & Co. This installment made a mint and left an opening for a fourth movie that hopefully can atone for the mediocrity this one wrought.

On Sunday, I got together with my fellow Guys Watching 24 (conveniently linked to your right…no, I will not let it go) co-stars, Chris White and Jeff King and their funny little honeys, and went to take in a ballgame. Now, I am not a fan of baseball. I find it near impossible to watch on TV. Going to a ballpark is a fun time…the peanuts ($6), the crackerjacks ($6), and, of course, the old guy in white hot pants (priceless)… You heard me. A couple of rows down and one aisle over from me and my pals, was a guy who looked like Dan Hedaya wearing white booty shorts. They were corduroy…ribbed, for our pleasure. The spectacle reached maximum hilarity during the seventh inning stretch. If the $11 admission wasn’t already a bargain, our entertainment value skyrocketed when this guy started…stretching. We were not ready for that jelly. Nothing like the bottom of a wrinkly butt cheek during “God Bless America” on Memorial Day weekend to remind you what the national pastime is really all about.

Before I go, a moment of silence for Paul Gleason. You may know him better as Principal Richard Vernon from the Breakfast Club, but to me he’ll always be Clarence Beeks from Trading Places, one of the funniest movies of all time (Bravo can take their list and shove it, by the way). Mr. Beeks, the Duke brothers thank you for your dedicated service.

To be continued…

‘Redheads, I have my Mondays back. The one show I’ve made it a point to sit down and watch for 20+ weeks, has finally wound to a close.
It’ll be 2007 before we find out what happens to the “baddest white man on the planet,” Jack Bauer. My fellow GUYS WATCHING 24 co-stars, Danny Rouhier and Chris White, have already done a fine job re-capping the finale in their blogs (conveniently linked to your right). Long story short, Jack is on a boat to China. They’ll search high and low to find him. Ain’t nothin gonna break-a their stride. Ain’t nothin’ gonna slow them down. Whoa whoa. There are a few other things that I’d like to address…
First, Henderson, RoboCop, Buckaroo Banzai, whatever the hell you want to call him, is alive. If they wanted him dead, Jack would’ve put two in his skull. I think this was Jack making good on the deal. How did Jack disappear originally? He made people think he was dead. Right now, Christopher Henderson is believed to be dead… And must let the world think he is dead, until he can find some way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him…

Second, this will be a great opportunity to bring in another marquee agent. Stop screaming, BLASPHEMY! When 24 first got started, it seemed beyond the realm of suspended disbelief that they could keep having 24 hours worth of near-apocalyptic crap happen to one guy over and over again. At the time, Jack Bauer wasn’t the archetypical badass he is today. This was Keifer Sutherland’s first decent success in quite awhile…why not plug another actor in to shoulder the day-long load? Sure, that seems preposterous now, but with Jack being raked over the dim sum bar (whatever the Chinese are doing to him, it can’t be any worse than what he’s already endured on the show… he hasn’t slept, eaten, or shat in five days), this could be a chance to bring in a new agent. Who? Michael Keaton. His career could use a boost, and he can match Jack in intensity any 24 hours. Just a thought.

Over the weekend, I did a show at the Bethesda Hyatt. It was a dynamite line-up. DC comedy’s Rat Pack (Ryan Conner, Rory Scovel, Danny Rouhier, and Jon Mumma… I won’t assign the actual counterparts…because who really wants to be Joey Bishop?) and yours truly. It was a who’s who of “who the hell are these guys?” For $5, it was a comedy value on par with finding a ten cent Guinness pints happy hour special. It was yet another quality Curt Shackleford production. For those of you who are new to the DC comedy scene, when it comes to open mics, Curt Shackleford is the Monopoly Guy. He took four houses on N St. and turned it into the Topaz Hotel. Do yourself a favor, pass go and check out one of his rooms. The night was also made much more entertaining because Jay Hastings looked like this the entire night…

After the show, I got a chance to hang out with Jon Mumma and his wife, Amy. A nicer pair you’d be hard pressed to find. Amy is as supportive as Jon is funny, and they’re both genuinely cool people (I’ve officially filled this blog’s Mumma-slurping requirement). We rapped about the state of the comedy union and how DC is enjoying a boom of enterprising and talented young comics. Very Up With People.

Before I shut this blog down for the evening, I wanted to address the controversy that is surrounding The DaVinci Code. The Church is up in arms over what the book charges about Jesus and it has mounted a full defensive counter-strike to try to zap the surrounding hype. Correct me if I’m wrong, but The DaVinci Code is a work of fiction, right? Fiction – a literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact. So, what’s the big deal? It’s not like Dan Brown made some outrageous claim, like God wrote the book… Methinks the Church protests too much. Look, I’m just a Jew without an alibi, but if you’re afraid people are going to have their faith shaken by every new book that comes off the shelf, then maybe you should hire some new writers. Besides, everything I’ve heard about the movie is that it stinks. So, all they succeeded in doing was drumming up more interest for a crappy movie.
If you want a good DaVinci movie, check out Hudson Hawk. One of the best bad movies ever made. All the DaVincial mystery and intrigue with none of the heavy-handed biblical nonsense to drag it down.

To be continued…

Happy Friday, ‘Redheads… I hope everyone had a great week. As we prepare for the weekend, I have a couple of happy congratulations to dole out.

First, congratulations to my buddy Glen and his wife-to-be Caryn on their impending nuptials this weekend, deep in the heart of Texas. I’ve known Glen since grade school. Caryn is a great girl and I look forward to adding them to my vast collection of married friends.

Also, congratulations to DC comedy power couple, Jimmeslie. Jimmy Merritt & Leslie Coolie will officially tie the knot tomorrow. If Jimmy has his way, the cake might look something like this…

Thanks to anyone who got the above reference. I hope they have wedded bliss out the yin-yang. They will make a very funny…and very pale children…who’s midichlorians will be off the charts (ok…enough Star Wars for one blog). That’s all I heard about Leslie and Jimmy. Can’t tell you more, ‘cuz I told you already. Now here we are waving Leslie and Jimmy goodbye. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Belated congratulations to Jon Mumma, Justin Schlegel, and Joe Robinson for bringing the house down at the DC Improv showcase finals (and further proving that anyone who’s anyone in this town, has a name that starts with “J”). Unfortunately, there could be only one grand prize. That went to Jon Mumma, but any of these three comedy combatants could’ve taken it down.
Comedy contests are an odd brand of vodka in the comedy liquor cabinet…if that makes any sense. Please, don’t think me bitter just because I’ve never won one. In a world of fragile egos, the comedy contest does a fine job of stomping on them like a Jewish groom after saying, “I do.” Trying to objectively judge something as amorphous as funny, based on one 8 minute performance, is like trying to gauge an audience’s actual mood “by round of applause.” Hilarity is in the milk coming out of the nose of the beholder…or something.
The one thing that this contest was a testament to, was the unity of the DC comedy community. While the egos in comedy are fragile, they can also be quite big as we all frantically try to scramble for the Mardi Gras beads of success. It was heartening to see the turnout of comics to support our brothers in arms as they flashed their tits on the big float. We are fam-i-ly.

Before the show, all of us were mingling in the lobby of the Improv. I saw comedy dynamo, Justin Schlegel, plugged into his I-pod, amping up for his set. I asked him what he was listening to. He replied, “DragonForce.” What is DragonForce, you ask? Well, crank up your speakers and check this out. If you need any cheese or lettuce or steel shredded, put it next to the computer and enjoy the flamethrowing hurricane of sound.

Care for some amazing DC comedy at bargain basement prices? Come down to the Congressional Room of the Bethesda Hyatt on Saturday night. For only $5, you can see:

’06 DC Improv Showcase winner, Jon Mumma
Rising mega-star, Ryan Conner
U.N. Comedy ambassador, Rory Scovel
Mimic extraordinaire and GUYS WATCHING 24 co-star, Danny Rouhier
…and your favorite amiable zany, Jared “The Galleria of Comedy” Stern
Show starts at 8:00…doors open at 7:00. See you there.

To be continued…

Hey there ‘Redheads… I wasn’t planning on blogging tonight, but I can’t sleep and this’ll hopefully distract me from my hacking cough.
Remember last post, when I said I was waiting on a bunch of pictures to come through? Well, I’ve got some eye candy for you…suck on this.

Before I get to the visual lozenges, I’d like to extend a hearty thanks to Mike Diesel, Cary London, Lori Trawinski, Brian McClure, and the rest of the crackerjack staff at Wiseacre’s Comedy Club for a fun, if lightly attended, weekend. I was hoping for a good turnout from friends, after pimping the show via phone, email, and MySpace to just about everyone I knew. Unfortunately, the number of my friends that showed up could be counted on one hand. These are two of my friends that I’d like to count with both hands, nudge nudge wink wink…

Yes, Chrissy and Emily made the front row much more fun to look at. Also a big Bartles & Jaymes thank-you-for-your-support to Kat, Tim Miller, and fellow comedy horseman, Erik “Show The Fuckin’ Movie” Myers.

Now, here’s an inebriated flip-book to help fill in the visual blanks from last blog’s bachelor party hijinks…




Most of those pictures are not how I remember them…they should be blurrier.

24 continues to kick ass as the sands sift through the 24-hourglass. Any of my fellow dorks catch the Star Wars moment in the first part of the show? Y’there, Danny? Let me see if I can set the scene. Once Jack (Vader) realizes that Miles, resident CTU douchebag, (whoever that Imperial douchebag was…it’s late) has tampered with the recording, he grabs him by his throat and slams him against the wall *I find your lack of faith disturbing*. Karen (Grand Moff Tarkin) tells Jack that this is going nowhere and to let him go *This bickering is pointless. Vader, release him*. Jack loosens his grip *As you wish*. Aaaaaaaand, scene.

This might make me a complete asshole, but…

If you’re looking for a great way to spend a Tuesday night, give the finger to American Idol and come check out a real talent competetion…the DC Improv open mic finals. Some heavy hitters on the bill, all fighting for a shot at the grand prize…not sure what that is, but it’ll be a kick ass show.

To be continued…

‘Redheads, it’s been too long… But, whenever I’ve kept you waiting in the past, there’s always been at least two scoops of bloggy goodness to reward you for your Zen-like patience. This time is no exception. I’ve had an eventful couple of days, and I was waiting on some pictures to post, both to enrich your overall blog experience…and to help establish my alibi. Those pictures never came through, so now I have an extra 1000 words apiece to convey to you guys. Let’s hop in the JaredLive Fuzzy Recollection Machine and try to reconcile my definition of “eventful”.

FRIDAY– Cinco de Mayo. When everyone wants to be Mexican for a day…like Carlos Mencia, but without the fake accent. For the full experience, my friends and I went to Rio Grande for a feast worthy of deportation. I partook of one of the greatest Mexican contributions to the art of blood thickening, Camarones Brochette. Sizzling shrimp stuffed with cheese and jalapenos, wrapped in bacon, and served with butter sauce. If there is a heaven, this is the special on Thursdays.
After we got done with our mini-fiesta, we went to the local multiplex to take in a flick. Something of substance. Something Oscar-worthy. We decided on Stick It. So, the 3 of us, average age 30, paid $9.50 a pop to sit in a theater full of tweens to watch a movie about teenage gymnasts. I think that sentence needs to take a hot shower…it’s skeevy. Anywho, the movie, from the people that brought you the cheerleading opus, Bring It On, is about rebelling against authority. These plucky gals need to express themselves, and they’re not about to let those stuffy judges, or a plot, hold them back. It’s saying something when a film lacks the substance of Bring It On. This piece of fluff made it look like Citizen Kane.

SATURDAY– Five words: Bachelor party on a boat. If I didn’t fill my Corona quota on cinco, on seis my bottle runneth over. At 11:00am, I met up with my friends Chris, Ed, Stu, Mike, Felippe, and Richard in DC to send off my buddy, Glen in style. After some pre-saucing, we piled into two cars and headed up to Mike’s Crab House in Annapolis. We chartered a boat for 5 hour tour/fishing trip (it was billed as a fishing trip…they just stuck some poles off the side of the boat…if anything was caught, we were there to take credit for it). It was an absolutely gorgeous day for alcoholism and sunstroke. I wish I had some pictures for you, because there’s no way I can do the scene justice (luckily, Chris snapped some great shots, but he just hasn’t gotten around to sending them). We drank and ate and talked about the mysteries of the universe…like threesomes. The 5 hours passed quickly…which was either a testament to the good time or the tequila haze.
The boat dropped us off back at Mike’s for further intoxication and the devouring of crustaceans. I can’t truly say how good the crabs were. Y’ever been so drunk that anything put in front of you that’s edible is the GREATEST FOOD EVER? That was my level culinary criticism. All I know is they were messy and delicious and I smelled like old bay afterward. Settling the bill was fun. When you’re drunk and full of crab, you have the financial acumen of a guy who accidentally hit the Spanish button during his ATM transaction. We got back to DC around 11:00pm…early by bachelor party standards, but we were all too sapped to go out looking for tits.

SUNDAY– I spent in dialysis.

MONDAY– I stayed in for my night of appointment television, 24. Before I settled in for an hour of real-time badassery, I decided to check out David Blaine’s special, Drowned Alive. I figured it’d be a 50 minute build-up, 7 minutes for the stunt, then I could flip over to Jack Bauer kicking terrorist ass. Turns out it was a 2 HOUR special. Ok, look, holding your breath for seven minutes is very impressive…I need water-wings when I go to the pool, but 2 HOURS?? That’s an hour and fifty minutes of useless hype, intercut with Blaine’s interactive street magic. His card tricks are cool, but I’d like to see him conjure up some charisma. Have you heard this guy talk? That deep monotone that makes Stephen Hawking sound like Rip Taylor… I’m not sure which was the bigger test of endurance, him trying to hold his breath for nine minutes, or trying to watch it for 2 hours. That’s the ultimate in interactive magic, when you make the audience want to escape. The ironic part was that a special about holding breath was hosted by Stuart Scott, a man who’s job it is to be filled with hot air. Boo-ya.

TUESDAY– Before I get into the day’s festivities, I wanted to share a piece of an IM had with my buddy, Seth (congratulations, you made the blog):

Seth: hope you showered this morning
Jared: I did, actually
Seth: by accident?
Jared: how do you shower by accident?
Seth: slip fall shower
Seth: makes sense to me
Jared: you’d have to slip, fall, try to catch yourself on the faucet knobs, turn the water on, then reach up to pick yourself up and accidentally grab the soap
Seth: fall again to get the shampoo which accidentally fell on your head
Jared: that too
Seth: also coincidentally you had your first seizure ever resulting in furious hand movements to lather, rinse, and repeat.

Moving on… Tuesday was a landmark day. The 10th Anniversary celebration for Sketchup, UMD’s sketch comedy group that, I’m proud to say, I’m a founding member of. The drinking started just after 2:00pm, as alumni met up at the Fe in College Park to swap stories and pickle ourselves before the 9:00pm showtime. 7 hours of prep. Who loves Sketchup? I love Sketchup. The group has spawned a couple high profile alums… Christian Zonts a.k.a. Skinnen Bones MC, Adam “Shappy” Shapiro, and Risa Binder to name a few…and I’m doin’ ok too.
After the kick-ass show in the Hoff theater, all of Sketchup past and present went to the aftershow party, complete with a keg of Beast (which, I believe only cost $7…and that includes the $5 deposit for the keg). Long story short, my liver hurts.

THE FUTURE– I’ll be featuring @ Wiseacre’s Comedy Club in Tyson’s Corner, VA on Friday at 9:00 and Saturday at 8:00 & 10:30. Come check me out in my natural habitat.

To be continued…