Friday, June 28, 2002
I couldn't make it to the computer yesterday to update me blog. I was in a time machine visiting the future again. See, this show I'm doing at PSNBC in a couple of weeks (check the left-hand bar under tha Archives) takes place in the year 3002, so I went forward to do some research. The future's a nice place. Anyway, to make it up to you guys, I brought something back with me. it was on a placemat at a diner:
Think you know everything about ancient history? Well let's see how well you do, when
we test your knowledge on historical events from the 21st Century! Remember, these
questions concern events from the years 2000 to 2100, which were almost a thousand
years ago! (ANSWERS ON OTHER SIDE!)
1) What 1960s folk singer-turned-rock star was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize
posthumously in 2037? (HINT: HIS NAME STARTS WITH A "D"!)
2) When the Mole People emerged from the very bowels of the Earth for the first and last
time, what was their message for all mankind?
3) What upstate NY town made history when it elected an electronic talking Port-A-
Potty mayor in 2009?
4) When Martha Stewart was released from prison in 2005, what was her shocking
5) When aliens landed on the White House lawn in 2083, what was the speech they
6) Liam McEneaney won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2019 for his first book. What
was the name of the book?
7) In 2019, Liam McEneaney made the world record's Shortest Nobel Acceptance
Speech. What was it?
8) What stopped singer Phil Collin's planned "2011 Concert For World Peace," scheduled
to be simulcast in every country all over the globe?
9) What was the message NASA delivered to *N SYNC singer Lance Bass as they
launched him out of Earth's atmosphere on a space shuttle in 2003?
10) What was the crazy Hollywood mix-up that won Liam McEneaney his first Oscar in
ANSWERS! (QUESTIONS ON OTHER SIDE!)
2) "Hey, will you keep it down up there? Some of us are trying to sleep you know."
3) Poughkeepsie. It served for 12 years before being impeached for embezzlement.
4) That in prison she had discovered Islam and changed her name to Martha Abdullah.
5) "All right, all right, we're lost. You were right honey, we should have asked for
directions. Hey, you people, anyone know the way to Alpha Centauri?"
6) "This is the Cliffs Notes Guide to My Autobiography," a book that came in an already
easy-to-digest condensed study version.
7) "Hey, back there, is that a naked Stephen Hawking?" When everyone turned and
looked to the back of the room where he was pointing, he grabbed the Nobels for Peace
and Medicine and ran.
8) The Geneva Convention.
9) "And stay out!"
10) A mix-up at his agent's office led Liam McEneaney to get cast as an Irish Republican
Army leader in a gritty historical film. Actor Liam Neeson was cast as a wacky next-door
neighbor in a Jaleel White vehicle, the short-lived sitcom, "Hey, Where's My Pants??!!!"
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Boy, the week sure passes fast when you just skip a day. Everyone should try it!
A QUICK PLUG
I know it's linked on the left-hand side, but if you haven't seen my friends Peggy and Steve's wedding announcement, go now. It might be the coolest thing on the web:
WALKING DOWN QUEENS BOULEVARD ABOUT A HALF-HOUR AGO
I was walking one way, the laughing woman was walking towards me in the opposite direction. As she came closer, I could see she was an Hispanic woman, in her late 30s/early 40s*. Now, my rule of thumb in New York is if you see someone smiling or randomly laughing on the street, you giuve them a smile in return. Because either they're really ahppy, in which case it's always good to spread joy, or because they're completely out of their mind, in which case you want to humor them, because you don't want to be the poor asshole who accidentally sets them off.
As she came up to me, looked at me, and said, "Let me show you why I'm laughing." She reached into an envelope and pulled out a driver's license, showed me the picture: "It's the look on his face."
Indeed, the portly, middle-aged Hispanic man had quite possible the goofiest look I've seen in a driver's license photo. His mouth was turned up in a smile, but in a way that his mouth kind of moved over to the left side of his face. He was rolling his eyes to the left, and he looked semi-popeyed. I laughed, said, "Thanks.," and we went our seperate ways. Two seconds, later I walked past a group of middle-aged Hispanics sitting in lawn chairs in the shade of a tree in front of an apartment building, and sure enoguh, there was the guy laughing it up.
You gotta love Queens.
MOM YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS IT'S THE BEASTIE BOYS!
I was thinking some more about that line in the Beastie Boys song, Fight for Your Right to Party, in which they say, "Livin' at home is such a drag, your mom threw away your best porno mag." Why? Because I need to be treated for obsessive behaviour.
Anyhowdy, I realized that what this line was saying was that your mom threw away your best porno mag, butl eft you the shitty ones. Like she was saying, "Well, clearly he enjoys this Barely Legal way too much. But he can keep the Over 60 Golden Shower. Because I know it's his worst porno mag, and he will never enjoy it."
ANSWERS TO YESTERDAY'S JEWEL POETRY CHALLENGE:
FAITH POEM (a poem about faith) and ON MOVING INTO MY VAN were both written by Jewel. The others were written by yours truly. However, as is usual when reading Jewel's poetry, there are no winners except for her #1 fan, Evan Silverman.
* I mean in age, not in the era in which Hitler rose to power in Germany.
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
I wanted to completely take Tuesday off , but I have too much shit to do, so I decided to compromise and act as if I had. So, even though you may consider this a Tuesday, it is in fact now Wednesday. Hope this doesn't cause too much inconvience.
Although, come to think of it, I have immediately bumped up to Hump Day! Grrrr.
LIKE IT'S SOME KIND OF JERK!
I was thinking more about that line in the Beastie Boys' song Fight For Your Right To Party, the one that goes "Livin' at home is such a drag, your mom threw away your best porno mag." I remember when I was living with my parents, I would have been appalled if my mom threw away my best porno mag. We gave them away to the Salvation Army, so that poor people could enjoy porn, too. Throw it away? What a waste of good porn. It's not like the women get less naked the older it gets.
OF COURSE IT WOULD BE FRANCIS LEWIS
A former special ed teacher is suing my old high school, Francis Lewis, because his students made his life miserable. All I can say is, "Thank God no one thought of doing that when I was a student there."
This guy is complaining because his students made fun of him and his Indian ancestry and drew a red dot on the forehead of a picture of a polar bear.
Amateurs! This guy would not have lasted ten minutes in a class that i attended. My friend Evan and I sat in the back of one English class and slowly demoralized our teacher. I forget exactly how, but I remember a social studies class with a guy who would make fart noises every time the teacher turned around or sat down. It took the teacher a week to catch the guy (IT WASN'T ME, I SWEAR!), and when he did, there wasn't much he could do.
I personally decided my old health teacher was completely unqualified to teach, so I put together an alternative school newspaper called "The Francis Lewis Follies," whose cover story was, "OUR WORST TEACHER: MS. GANG!"
Inside I pointed out that a guidance counselor was kind of pervy, and said of another teacher, "Mrs. Meltzer, who you may remember from the Montel show about failed nose jobs." Now, what I can't remember is whether I was being really mean, or if Meltzer had actually been on the Montel show.
THE JEWEL POETRY CHALLENGE!
Two of these poems were written by singer/songwriter Jewel. The others were not. Can you guess which is which?
FAITH POEM (a poem about faith)
I don't know how to do anything
I am trying to move mountains with words
But I am an ant
I move like a worm
encompassed a mile
How do I rise above?
Where will this worm
I look in the mirror
and I see filth
Who is that?
Where did The Angel go?
Why is there dirt
staring back at me?
Why is the soil of
incompetence beneath my nails?
Why does doubt paint
beneath my eyes
and stain my skin?
Why does my spine assume failure
Why do my lips
flirt with the sky;
why do I try to lasso
Beauty with such a
Where is the hair of Rapunzel
Where is my sling
Where is my stone,
Where is the weapon with which
I may fight this apathy
that feels like sleep
in my limbs
that loosens my brother's smile
that kills my neighbor's daughter
This pen is scrawny and hardly
seems able to ink out
or erase this plague that
This Giant, This Ogre
This Beast, This Death
that assumes a million faces,
that borrows my own.
SWEAT OF MY BROW
In this time, he works
And pushes upon his plow
I can see
With a simple twist of his face
It is revealed
The sun beats down
And when the adjectives fail
And his thorny calloused hands fall
There to catch him?
UPON MOVING INTO MY VAN
Joy. Pure Joy. I am
What I always wanted
to grow up and be
Things are becoming
more of a dream with
each waking day--
The heavy brows of Daily Life
are becoming encrusted
with glitter and the shaking finger
of consequence is
beginning to giggle
Grumpy old men
Bums sport halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breathe
as I remember the
FIRST DRAFT/FINAL DRAFT
My words are expressions
Like fear and surprise
And I can not go back and change words
When they are committed
Nor can I go
And change the look on my face when he grabbed me.
Even if I change my
mind or accidentally hit the return key
I follow my passion
is a noose around my neck and so I must jump
And let it fly.
If I misspell a word, too bad.
I dropped my pen.
There it is.
No second drafts in life,
No second drafts on paper.
untitled (a poem with no title)
You can not contain me
you can not
no you can't
not if you tried
There is a hobo asking me for a dollar
But he can not contain it
No he can't
Monday, June 24, 2002
To be part of an ongoing debate that my firend Adam and I are having about the artistic merits of the film The Matrix, simply read yesterday's Comments box. Perhaps tomorrow I shall post a bit about The Matrix that Adam and I enjoy performing onstage together.
I was walking down Ludlow Street, and walked past a basement entrance with a sign that read "Karaoke 86." Being curious about what kind of karaoke bar sits in a Lower East Side basement. The door was locked, and there was a sign in the window that read, "MEMBERS ONLY."
I wondered what kind of karaoke bar is Members Only, and what one has to do to become a member. Audition?
BAR OWNER: Um, you stayed in key and hit every note. I'm sorry, but maybe you want to come back when you're drunker and can be off-key.
Then I thought, maybe it's like the Bergin Fish & Hunt Club, John Gotti's old hangout. Maybe the Chinese Mafia (the Tong) use this Karaoke bar as a meeting-place:
Lang-Tze: So, Tsung, have the other store owners given you a problem with paying insurance since that tragic fire in the locksmiths?
Tsung: I did it myyyyy wayyyyy.
Lang-Tze: Oh for Chrissakes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
IF I HAD ME A SONG
by Liam and the McEnations
So you lost your wife and kids in a nasty car crash,
If you owned a car at least that means you have some cash.
Your friend got rolled up in a carpet by the mob for welshing on drugs,
How happy will his widow be to get a new rug.
Another friend shouts loudly in front of your date, "You stink!"
At least he's close enough to love you is what I'd think.
You've got to be positive, remember a frown,
Is only a smile that's been sleeping upside down.
Staying positive is cool, it'll be your gain,
If God's pissing on you, it's time to dance in the rain.
When your daughter's out whoring just to buy some more coke,
At least she doesn't pawn your jewelry when she gets too broke.
If you get framed by the cops for triple homicide,
The other inmates will think you'll kill 'em if there's anything they tried.
And if they find out they're wrong and they make you their bitch,
After all your failed relationships, what a nice switch!
If nobody loves you and there's no one to care,
At least no one's disappointed when you won't be there.
(REPEAT CHORUS 2x)
NOTE FOR AARON: This song is sung kind of like a cross between "Fight For Your Right to Party," only with a ska horn section instead of a guitar riff, and the Neil Young song "Piece of Crap" from Sleeps With Angels.
Saturday, June 22, 2002
So they've made two sequels to the Matrix. Thank God they're continuing a story that was completely wrapped up in the first movie. I remember sitting there during the closing credits thinking, "Man, now that they've resolved all the plot points and tied up every loose end, what happens next?" I think it would be awesome if the next two movies were just the characters sitting around, going, "Remember when we were in that Matrix? That sucked."
THAT HYPOCRITE SMOKES TWO PACKS A DAY!
I was listening to the Beatie Boys song, Fight For You Right To Party. About how your parents keep you from partying, and how you've got to fight back. And I heard this line, "And your mom took away your best porno mag."
I was thinking, "What kind of party are you throwing that you need to bring your best porno mag? And are there other people invited to this party, or is it just you and your porno mag?"
I don't like bathroom attendants. They tell you that you're either in a really nice restaurant or you're in a strip club. And it's really awkward, because sometimes you're at a urinal with some guy who dropped out of junior high school staring at the back of your head. The last time that happened, I was standing there, unable to take care of business, when I realized that for the last couple of minutes this guy was watching some wacko standing at a urinal with his head against the wall, humming distractedly (I was tryng to pretend I was somewhere else). I realized that if I didn't do something and quick, he was going to think I was a psycho. So I pretended to start masturbating. And then he tipped me a dollar is the sweet, sweet punchline to that joke.
Friday, June 21, 2002
So I've been reading up on how terrorists are going to use ambulances and police cars as mobile bombs. And then I heard this story that this guy who runs a store in a mall in Jersey that specializes in selling ambulances to people had a few Middle Eastern men walk into his store and try to buy an ambulance with cash. When he asked them some questions, they fled. I have fantasies about this scenario, where I'm the store owner, and I bring down one of these guys with a flying tackle and turn him into the FBI.
Anyway, my sources in the NJ state police have provided me with a mall security video tape of the encounter. Enjoy:
THE CLERK, A MIDDLE-AGED MAN WITH A BEARD is standing behind a register, doing some paperwork. THREE MIDDLE-EASTERN GUYS walk in with a grey bulletproof briefcase.
CLERK: Good evening gentlemen, welcome to my store, can I help you with something?
MIDDLE-EASTERN GUY #1: We want to buy an ambulance.
CLERK: Great, well we've got several types, depending on what you're looking for -
MEG #1: Is not a problem. Whatever you can give us. We're in a hurry.
CLERK: In a hurry? What are you planning to use this for, if you don't mind my asking -
MEG #1: We are filming movie.
CLERK: What's it called?
MEG #1: Is called "Death to Godless American Imperialist Heathen."
MEG #2: Is a romantic comedy.
CLERK: I see. Well, we've got -
MEG #2: How much is?
CLERK: I beg your -
MEG #1 (turning on the second Middle-Eastern guy and yelling in Arabic. Eventually he turns back to the clerk): Forgive my friend, please. He is jet-lag.
CLERK: Oh, I see. And where did he fly in from?
MEG #2: Newark.
MEG #3 (at the same time): Montreal.
MEG #1: Uh, Newark Montreal. It is northern part of Montreal.
CLERK: Oh, well I went on vacation in Montreal. It was very -
MEG #1: Yes yes yes, is a nice trip down memory lane. What about ambulance? We have, um, deadline.
MEG #3 says something in Arabic. The other two laugh uproariously. After a second, MEG #1 sees the polite-yet-puzzled look on the CLERK's face.
MEG #1: Is a joke. He says, "Soon even this corpulent son of a jackal will have the buzzards feast upon his bones." Uhhh, it loses a lot in the translation, but trust me, it is funny.
The CLERK laughs politely.
MEG #2: How much is?
MEG #1 yells at MEG #2, but MEG #3 intervenes and persuasively and calmly argues with him. Eventually they come to an agreement. MEG #1 turns back to the CLERK.
MEG #1: Um, my friend has a good point. How much will this ambulance cost?
CLERK: Seventy grand.
The MEG #1 opens the briefcase, revealing stacks of hundreds.
MEG #1: We have sixty in cash right here.
CLERK: Umm, well, it's really not negotiable.
MEG #3: What about extras?
The three MIDDLE EASTERN GUYS huddle in a conference, speaking Arabic. Eventually, they break and talk to the CLERK again.
MEG #1: What my friend means is, maybe we can cut corners. For instance, we do not require seatbelts. How much if we get rid of seatbelts?
CLERK: Well, it's kind of against the law to sell a vehicle without a seatbelt.
MEG #2 says something to MEG #1 in Arabic.
MEG #1: Okay, maybe we can cut out another extra. How about brakes?
MEG #1: Yes, maybe we get rid of brakes.
CLERK: You need brakes. How else are you going to stop?
MEG #1: Um, that is not necessary my friend.
CLERK: Look, if you pay the first sixty grand in cash, I'm sure we can set you up with a payment plan for the rest.
MEG #1: Excellent! You can contact our survivors -
MEG #1: I mean, our, um, oh forget it. Look, let us get this show on the road. What do we have to do to drive out of here with an ambulance?
CLERK: Great. I'm going to need a driver's license.
MEG #1: What?
CLERK: Driver's license. I can't sell you a vehicle without a license. How are you going to drive it?
MEG #1: Uhhhh . . . briefly?
MEG #2: I have driver's license.
CLERK: Great! Hand it on over!
MEG #2 reaches into his robe and withdraws a piece of laminated paper. He hands it to the CLERK who studies it.
CLERK: So - your name is "Joe Blow"?
MEG #1 put his head in his hand and shakes it.
MEG #2: Yes. Is old Polish name. Mother is from Krakow.
CLERK: Umm, okay.
He starts punching in information into a computer. The three MEG look at each other and shrug.
CLERK: By the way, who's starring in your movie?
MEG #1: What movie?
MEG #3 says something in Arabic.
MEG #1: Oh yes, movie we are filming for which we need ambulance. Great American actor James Woods.
CLERK: Wait a second. James Woods starring in a romantic comedy?
The three MEGs look at each other.
MEG #1: Zoink!
The three run out. The CLERK runs after them.
CLERK: You guys forgot . . . your suitcase. Uhhh, forget it guys.
Thursday, June 20, 2002
ON THE QUEENS-BOUND 42nd ST. A/C/E PLATFORM, AROUND 12:35am
I walked up the platform, where there's a bunch of construction going on. I love New York's MTA and its construction. No matter what they do, the subway is never fixed. And it never looks any better. I think they use my landlord's handymen.
Anyway, I walk past the first repair crew, a bunch of young black men in their bright orange construction vests. They've got a CD player, blasting rap music. It felt like a party.
I walk a little ways up the platform, and there was the next construction crew, a bunch of middle-aged white guys blasting The Beatles: Number One.
That's where I stopped, but I imagine that if I'd walked a little further, I would have found a group of elderly fops, bright orange vests over their smoking jackets, sipping sherry and listening to Bach's Cantatas.
EARLIER, WHILE WAITING FOR THE SIMPSON'S
I got one of those market-research survey calls. I used to do that for a living, so I try to be accomodating whenever I get that kind of call. The guy who called me was a little wacky, though. At one point, he asked me what the first store I thought of was when it came to buying some kind of LCD miniature TV. I replied, "Nobody Beats the Wiz."
He said, very incredulously, like no one had ever given him such a crazy, out-of-this-world answer before, "The Wiz?" It was as if I'd said, "I buy my TVs at Scores strip club, in the appliance department."
I then waited through a moment of panicked silence, and then he consulted his supervisor: "There isn't - I could put it under department stores. Or, uh, I'm going to put it under 'OTHER ELECTRONICS STORES'."
Then to me: "That's an electronics store, right?"
No, dumbass, since I was going to buy a TV there, it's probably a butcher.
Then he asked me what the second store I thought of was. Now was my turn to panic. Because my honest second answer was "Uncle Steven's," which is a store on Canal Street in Manhattan. I don't know why, I've heard it's not a great store, but it's such a New York institution that it's what popped into my head.
But I realized that if he couldn't get his mind around the Wiz, his head would explode if I gave him a small independant. But I also realized that I couldn't think of a second chain store that sells electronics. Finally I blurted out, "Sears!" That seemed satisfactory.
At another point, he was asking me about car safety (I don't know what the hell this survey was driving at; at one point he was asking me about Bounty paper towels. My theory is that there are a bunch of giant corporations hit by September 11th who couldn't afford surveys on their own, so they pooled their money, just like hobos trying to get that next bottle of Thunderbird), and the guy asked me what I thought was more important, seat belts or airbags. I replied "seat belts," and he said, again, like I'd just told him I was crowned the King of Prussia, "You think seat belts are more important than airbags?"
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
MOBY DICK 2: HARD TO SWALLOW
Call me "Fishmeal." Moby Dick is the good guy; after getting harpooned by greedy whalers, he returns from the dead with all-new superpowers that enable him to wreak havoc on those who would destroy the environment.
In this teen gross-out comedy, a rich hunk joins a seminary for a vow of chastity when the love of his life dumped him. Now his friends have twenty-four hours to lead him into the path of temptation with wine, women, and parties, before he loses his inheritance.
AIN'T THAT A BITCH!
When crazy rapper Guin E-T loses a deal with his record label after "knockin' boots" with his producer's babymomma, he has to dress as a woman to make a living in the lily-white world of dog shows. Eddie Griffin attached to star/direct.
FINN AND FRIENDS
Based on the classic Mark Twai novel, "Huckleberry Finn," this update for a modern audience features Huck running away from his abusive father with Jim. In a more sensitive twist, Jim is no longer a slave, but Hannibal Missouri's first black mayor who, with twenty-four hours left until retirement, gets framed for embezzlement by a consortium of wealthy landowners. High-speed chases and wacky antics ensue.
Samuel L. Jackson and Tobey Maguire are signed and ready to go.
When his HMO refuses to pay for his daughter's liver transplant, a desperate father has 24 hours to win the money in a high-stakes bowling tournament.
ROTTEN TO THE CORE
Disgraced ex-CIA agent Johnny "Rotten" Swanson is called back into active duty when his archnemesis, a terrorist with a vaguely Middle Eastern accent, plants a nuclear bomb in the core of the Earth. Complications ensue when he's partnered with a hilarious jive-talkin' Pakistani informant sidekick. Vin Diesel has expressed interest.
THE NUTSY PARTY
Scream-meets-Sophie's Choice. In a hilarious take on serious Holocaust melodramas, a Jewish family in hiding discovers that they're also harboring Hitler's clone. With sight gags and jokes a la Airplane or Hot Shots!, and a twist ending that will genuinely shock you.
LATHER, RINSE, REPEAT
When a bolt of lightning hits a bottle of shampoo, creating a new soapy creature who is also a hot supermodel, she has one choice to fit in her new environment: form a rock band! Soon, it's become the toast of the town, until a greedy record executive gives "Bubbly" twenty-four hours to either marry him or he will expose her secret and she'll be "washed up."
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Everybody asks who won the Super Bowl, but nobody asks who had the best time. There's a lesson in that; and that lesson is, "Sometimes nobody asks stupid questions."
I FEEL KIND OF BAD ABOUT THE US WINNING AGAINST MEXICO
in the World Cup. I mean, here we are, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, and we've got almost everything. It's like, we've traditionally held the money, the power, the weapons, and the imperialist tendencies, and we've let the Third World have soccer. And now, we're taking soccer too.
In the USA, soccer is traditionally the thing you watch your seven year-old play while stranding at the chain-link fence gossiping with the other parents. We wouldn't even want the World Cup unless it came with unlimited refills of Coke. But here we are in the Quarters.
CALL ME SMACKWATER JACK
I don't know why. It just would be nice.
A TRANSCRIPT OF A RECORDING MADE IN THE OVAL OFFICE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AGO
ASHCROFT: And I'm, telling you, he's not like his old man. He won't go for giving the FBI -
CHENEY: We can get him -
ASHCROFT: - giving the FBI extensive domestic spying powers.
RUMSFELD: Not to mention the backlash from the public. You know they're not going to support giving intelligence more powers, especially once they find out how incompetent they were in preventing the attacks -
CHENEY: And I'm telling you, we can get Junior to -
RUMSFELD: - to destroy the Bill of Rights?
ASHCROFT: Bill of Rights, Bill of Rights. God damn the god damn Bill of Rights. I wish -
CHENEY: I know, I know. But I will bet you gentlemen twenty dollars that I can get our boy to sign off on this.
ASHCROFT: I'll put up twenty.
RUMSFELD: I'd like some of that action.
CHENEY: Here he comes.
BUSH: Afternoon gentlemen.
RUMSFELD: Afternoon, Mr. President.
ASHCROFT: Afternoon, Mr. President.
CHENEY: Hello George. You know, we were just talking about you. And how disgusting it is, disgusting, that the liberal media is constantly referring to you as stupid and dumb.
BUSH: I know. Hey, let's pass a law saying that they can't call me dumb.
RUMSFELD: Ummm -
ASHCROFT: We've been over this, sir. Until you give me permission to get rid of -
CHENEY: You know, Mr. President. We can't really change the Constitution -
CHENEY: - although changing the laws might be fun. Hey, let's pass a law saying that everyone in the White House HAS TO BE smart. That way, you can tell your critics that there's no way you can be dumb because otherwise you'd be breaking the law.
BUSH: Yeah! That would be really neat! Only, oh wait, then people would just use that to make more fun of me. They'd force me to take an intelligence test or something. Whoo, college was a grind enough without having to study for more tests!
CHENEY: Yeah. Hmmm.
CHENEY: Hey, Donald?
CHENEY: How much longer can we keep a lid on this whole FBI and CIA failing-to-stop-the-terrorists fiasco?
RUMSFELD: Umm, to be honest, I think the whole thing's a powder keg. The sooner we let it blow -
BUSH: Damn, that's going to be worse than ever!
CHENEY: Why George, what do you mean?
BUSH: People are going to say that not only am I dumb, but all those little spy groups are dumb too. Now I'm really going to hear about it. This is gonna suck!
CHENEY: Well, yes, hmm, unless, of course, no -
BUSH: What? What?
CHENEY: Well, unless, nah, you wouldn't want to -
BUSH: How do you know?
CHENEY: Would you be willing to pass a law to, well, make the FBI smarter?
BUSH: Of course! We'll pass a cool law or something!
CHENEY: Ye-ees. We can pass a law broadening the FBI's intelligence capacities!
BUSH: Fuckin' A! I'll go get my bill-signing pen!
(sounds of feet running out of the office, knocking something over, and running into the hall)
RUMSFELD: Cheney, here's your money.
ASHCROFT I've got to hand it to you, old bean. That was incredible.
CHENEY: Oh, it's just a little trick his old man showed me.
Monday, June 17, 2002
WORDS OF WISDOM FROM AN OLD SALT
'Tis better to keep quiet and be thought a fool, then to open your mouth and say something incredibly helpful. Suddenly, you're the poor bastard everyone runs to every time they've got a question.
Is there nothing sadder than only having nineteen dollars in your bank account? It's not quite enough to withdraw from the ATM, and it's too damn embarassing to go the teller to withdraw ten bucks.
Actually, there are things sadder, like juvenile lukemia, but still.
REAL STORIES FROM THE STREETS
LIAM McENEANEY: There are six million stories in the naked city.
PATRICK McENEANEY: And most of them are boring.
LIAM CONNECTS WITH THE KIDS
I saw a little boy being led down the street by his mother. She was nagging him about something or other. As he walked past, we made eye contact, and I said, "Hey kid, it never ends."
She gave me a dirty look and hustled him past me.
LAST NIGHT IN THE DELI
A Caribbean guy approaches the counter holding a box of Dominos.
CARIBBEAN GUY: Hey, this was made in your country.
COUNTER GUY: (silence)
CARIBBEAN GUY: See? It says "Made in China."
COUNTER GUY: I not Chinese.
CARIBBEAN GUY: Where you from?
COUNTER GUY: I Korean.
At this point I left, but I'm guessing that neither man started reminiscing about his days in the Model U.N.
Saturday, June 15, 2002
INDIA AND PAKISTAN DEVELOP ATOMIC WEDGIE
by Liam McEneaney
According to recent US intelligence reports, both India and Pakistan have developed the powerful "Atomic Wedgie."
Teams of scientists in both countries, working 'round the clock, developed the Atomic Wedgie in laboratories and Boys' Locker Rooms. Although Pakistan is believed to have bought information from a rogue black market Russian High School Football Team.
Although the US is the only country to actually use an atomic wedgie, in the famous Hiroshima/Nagasaki Panty Raids that are credited with ending World War II, President Bush and Congress have been calling on the two countries' leaders for restraint in the use of Wedgie warfare to settle centuries' old disputes.
Scientists say that the Atomic Wedgie will not only emasculate this generation of Indians and Pakistanis in front of their peers, it could affect future generations and surrounding areas as well. Populations within fifty miles of the blast sites could find themselves unable to speak in a lower register for hundreds of years, not to mention mutations in their children and their childrens' children; mutations which could cause powerful spontanious crying fits and the unexplainable desire to watch the Revenge of the Nerds movies.
Although UN diplomacy has helped to ease tensions between Pakistan and India in recent weeks, State Department officials still fear the situation could escalate into a full-scale Food Fight between the two countries, leading to a depletion of the area's mystery-meatloaf, meatballs, and milk container resources. The UN is considering its first Full-Scale Detention For Everybody since the Falklands' Fistfight At 3 O'Clock.
Friday, June 14, 2002
I walked by an office building, and found this sign, written in black ink on the back of a blank piece of paper, taped to the glass door:
"DO NOT GO FOR SERVICE
PENN PLAZA DELI
THEY ACKNOWLEDGE TALIBAN!"
Sure enough, across the street was the Penn Plaza Deli. I wonder what this anonymous infromant's problem was.
The deli "acknowledges" the Taliban? Maybe that means that they say, "Yup, that's the Taliban all right."
I mean, it's a 24 hour deli. What truck does it have with the Taliban?
ON THE NEWS: "In Afghanistan, US forces are still trying to pinpoint who's been supplying Taliban forces with menthol cigarettes and packs of gum. Intelligence operatives have intercepted a coded message which reads, 'Thank you my friend, please come again'."
Maybe if you walk in, you'll see an autographed 8x10 of Osama, with the signature, "Thanks Joe. Couldn't have done it without you!"
SEEN ON ST. MARK'S PLACE
A homeless guy lying on the sidewalk outside of a kebab joint, holding a harmonica. He's studying it, and then he starts wiping it on his shirt. I wonder what kind of germs that could be on his harmonica that could be made better by wiping it on his incredibly filthy shirt. After a minute of that, he studies the harmonica again. Then he starts wiping it on his shirt again. I can only guess he wants to get it, if not clean, then at least uniformly filthy before playing. Then he starts licking the harmonica. Up and down, like a cat cleaning its fur. That's when my falafel sandwich was done and I took my leave of this musical scene. Speaking of which:
I WROTE ANOTHER SONG
About an important figure in any rock n' roll equation, the guy who keeps everything running smoothly, and the guy for whom no one's written a song yet:
by Liam McEneaney
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Bring a new guitar, freshly tuned,
Hunching over, hoping no one will see you,
But we all see you roadie.
You may serve, but you're no one's toadie.
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Take the groupies no one wants.
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Silent antics like Mumenschantz.
He's the Gunga Din of my little rock world,
Bringin' new drumsticks through beer bottles hurled,
Bouncin' off the Metallica t-shirt paunch,
Splattering your mullet, yet you're true and staunch.
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Lives off of filtered cigarettes.
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
A pretty nice guy for the abuse he gets.
Bringing that new guitar, freshly tuned,
Be a dick, he'll write a book about you -
And it'll be a best-seller, they'll buy his book for the animal sex and bottoming-out drug and alcohol stories contained within,
And you'll have no choice but to hold a press conference expressing your disappointment in -
My roadie, yeah roadie,
Ridin' in the van behind our bus.
Hey roadie, yeah roadie,
Dreams at night he's one of us.
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Women like a man with an air of mystery. Unless that mystery is, "Who's Going to Pay for Dinner?"
THE THING ABOUT BEING A COMEDIAN IN SHOW BUSINESS IS
You have to live with the knowledge that no matter how funny you are, no matter how good you are, you are less likely to get your own show than a judge who knows how to sentence people in an entertaining way. Do you know how it is to have development people think, "He's good, but he's no Judge Joe Brown"?
INTO THE DANGER ZONE
Here's a tip that the conversation's going to take a turn for the worse:
If you're talking to your friend, and he's had a few too many to drink, and then he says, "I want to tell you something" - and here's the dangerous part - "that I've never told anyone before."
Seriously, just stop him right there. Walk away if you need to. You'll be doing the both of you a favor, because I can guarantee you anything that follows that sentence is going to be deathly embarassing to the both of you, and the only proper way to deal with that is to never speak to each other again.
Because no matter how much Drunk Bob thinks unburdening his Catholic Priest fetish will solidify you r friendship, Sober Bob will never forgive you.
FRIEND OF MINE TOLD ME
"Liam, I just do comedy to get laid." And I was like, "Whoa! People get laid from doing comedy? That's a newsflash. That's a front-page banner on the Times."
And I was thinking, "Maybe I should gear my comedy more towards getting laid." So please bear with me as I workshop some new material:
Hey guys, don't you hate it when you've been pleasuring a woman for hours and hours, and she's screaming and moaning and just can't stop? And you're all like, "Baby, please, you know I have no concern for my pleasure whatsoever, but it's been eight or nine hours. Pappa gots to get some rest!"
CAN I BUILD A FENCE ACROSS MY CEILING?
My upstairs neghbor likes to blast music around midnight. But it's not even like he plays rock n' roll; he plays classical music and soundtracks from musicals. So I find myself thinking, "Okay, I'm awake, but not actually awake enough to get out of bed, run upstairs and kick his ass."
Wednesday, June 12, 2002
I managed to get the archives back up. I don't know if I plan to keep them up, but now you can enjoy the first two months of this blog all over again.
Also, please note the live show next month. Make your reservations!
I was talking with a friend the other day, and he was complaining about how America's behind (heh!) European nations in the sense that we don't have bidets in our bathrooms.
Personally, I think it's a good thing. Becuase, what with they way America's advertising industry is, we'd be seeing ads like this:
INT. KITCHEN. MORNING
A WIFE is cooking breakfast. HER HUSBAND, a white guy in his thirties with glasses and five o'clock shadow, walks in wearing a bathrobe. He looks unhappy.
YOUNG WIFE: Honey, what's wrong? Uh-oh, feeling "less-than-fresh"?
HUSBAND: No matter how much I wipe, I just don't feel clean.
AN AUSTRALIAN GUY, in full Outback regalia, bursts into the kitchen.
AUSTRALIAN GUY: Bidet, mate!
AUSTRALIAN GUY: No, not "g'day!" Bidet! The hottest new bathroom cleaning sensation.
A WORKING BIDET
AUSTRALIAN (V.O.): It sits right next to yer toilet, like its best mate. Then by crikey, you pull a little chain and bidang! The bidet cleans you out and gets you ready for the day!
INT. KITCHEN. THE NEXT MORNING
The WIFE is cooking breakfast. Her HUSBAND bounds in, fully dressed and shaven, smiling. He kisses her.
WIFE: My oh my, what's gotten into you?
HUSBAND: Bidet, mate!
The AUSTRALIAN steps into view, winks at the camera.
OR EVEN WORSE:
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET. AFTERNOON
THREE YOUNG BOYS ARE RIDING THEIR MOUNTAIN BIKES, loud rock music blasting. ONE OF THE BOYS stops in front of a house.
BOY #1: Hey guys, I gotta go inside for a second.
INT. HOUSE. CONTINUOUS
We see the BOY run past his MOM who just smiles and shakes her head.
She talks to the camera.
MOM: You know, ever since we got that Spiderman bidet, Tommy can't wait to use the bathroom. Why, sometimes I catch him sneaking his dad's laxatives.
BOY #1 races down the stairs again.
MOM: Tommy, how'd it go?
BOY #1: Awesome!
He runs out of the house.
MOM: And it practically cleans itself.
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET. AFTERNOON
The THREE BOYS are riding their bikes again.
BOY #1: I'm Spiderman!
BOY #2: I'm Batman!
BOY #3: I'm the Flash!
They ride off to rockin' music.
THREE BIDETS SITTING SIDE-BY-SIDE, each decorated with a Batman, Spiderman, or Flash symbol.
ANNOUNCER (VO): Mattel bidets, because even when you're number two, you're still number one! Each sold seperately.
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Q: Why do cannibals like New York cabbies?
A: Because cabbies are always giving them the finger!
WHY THINGS HAPPENED THE WAY THEY HAPPENED
Below are a series of true memos exchanged between a certain CIA official and an FBI bureaucrat. In order to protect my sources, the names of the officials have been replaced with "FBI" and "CIA." Enjoy:
RE: Guess what?
I know something you don't know.
Wouldn't you like to know?
Something I know that you don't know.
What do you know?
Boy oh boy, is this huge. Shocking.
You know what? I don't even care.
Really? That's too bad. You would have found it interesting, too.
So what is it then? Stop being a dickcheese and just tell me.
Well, if I'm such a dickcheese, you definitely don't want to know.
Fine, you don't want to share your intelligence (very ironic)? I just hope it doesn't have anything to do with -
Wait. "Anything to do with" what?
No, don't worry about it. Probably a different group of guys.
What group of guys?
Nothing, man, don't worry about it. It's probably nothing, but boy oh boy -
"Boy oh boy" what? You know you have to share everything with me.
No, you have to share everything with me.
Says your charter, dipwad.
You're the dipwad, 'cause my charter says I don't have to do anything I don't want to.
I guess you must want to act like the biggest A-#1 A-hole on the face of the Earth.
No, my charter doesn't say I have to act like your mom.
You mean your mom.
No, your mom.
TO: CIA, FBI
Hey guys, what's going on?
TO: FBI, NSA
TO: NSA, CIA
FROM: CIA, FBI
TO: FBI, CIA
Ha! now neither of you can speak until I say your name. Too bad, I wanted to tell you guys something important. Oh well.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, June 10, 2002
Today is "Laurie Allen E-Mail Me Privately Day." I know what you're saying, "Liam, if my name is not Laurie Allen, how can I possibly join in the festivities?" To be honest, you probably can't. However, I figure, if the Federal Government can set up holidays that very very few people bother to celebreate, holidays like Arbor Day, Veterans Day, Befriend A Runaway But DON'T PUSH!!! Day, or Chanukkah, then so can I.
I WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGISE:
First of all, I would like to apologise to that Kinko's employee for expecting him to do his job. I realise now that I was creating a horrible burden on him, considering how lonely it must have been, being the only employee forced to actually stand behind the counter. I also realise that there was probably some kind of awesome party going on in the back of the store, which had drawn his coworkers back there. Especially since, after I had him carry out the onerous burden of copying my paper, to actually ask him to cut it for me, well, I now know that was beyond what any reasonable twenty-three year-old pothead still living with his parents could bear. And so I would like to apologise for the harsh look I gave him, especially when he told me that he would have to add a five dollar set-up fee. I know now that that was not a "bullshit charge to extort more money from me," but, rather, the price of doing business. I apologise.
I would also like to apologise to everyone in the city for encouraging my ex-girlfriend in her folk-singing career. I would especially like to apologise to her current boyfriend, who now has to sit front-and-centre at every show, his eyes half-shut, nodding his head to every song like he's really, really into it. I also apologise to every one of her friends whom she's guilted into buying a copy of her self-released album, "Songs in the Key of Me."
I would like to apologise to everyone I know for the obnoxious things I will do in the future. I also apologise for insulting your intelligence by blaming it on liquor, as I will do in the future. Please, act preemptively by sending me your cleaning bills, hospital bills, and therapy bills now so that I can get the "paying for the damage I caused" business over with. And I would like to add a hearty and sincere, "It will never happen again."
I'm sorry that I told you that your show wasn't "about dogcatching enough." I realize that just because I shout out the suggestion "dogcatching" for an improv show, it doesn't mean I can dictate what goes on. Also, I'd like to apologize the show you were in for an improv show. I realize now that it was a very serious drama, and shouting out the word "dogcatching" as an improv suggestion like that ruined the mood. However, in my defense, "Death of a Salesman" sounds like a goofy comedy troupe name. Maybe somewhere in the programme you could have mentioned, "This is a classic American drama and not an improvisational comedy troupe."
I would like to apologise for pointing out how ugly your baby is. Even though everyone could see the truth of what I had just said, I know that that only made my pointing it out even worse. And even though your baby is truly one of the ugliest babies I have ever seen, I know that going on and on at length about it was completely inappropriate for a Christening, and I'd like to just take the time to apologise. I now realize that I should have said, "He takes after his mother," which is also the truth. Oops, no offense.
I would like to apologise to the Genovese Crime Family for testifying against them in the '70s. Oops! What the hell was I thinking? You know why it's called a "Crime Family"? Because everyone loves and trusts each other - just like a family. And when I appeared in front of that grand jury, I betrayed the love and trust of every single one of the "family" members. If it makes any of you guys feel better, I feel just terrible about it.
I'd like to apologise to everyone for using the English spelling in this blog entry. It's pretentious and unnecessary and I apologise to anyone who has already sent off a hasty reply to tell me about all the words I misspelled.
Saturday, June 08, 2002
This is the final installment of our week-long retrospective of the works of Ralph Legaczio, Poet Laureate of Janesville, Wisconsin.
Today, we publish an excerpt from the libretto of his opera, "Janesville, Ho!," the story of the brave settlers who founded Janesville, lo those many years ago. It's completely true, and all the dialogue was based on the actual logs kept by the settlers, Zachariah Dupree, his wife Sarah (who learned to read and write by accident) and their friend and wagonmate Erik Skjornbergsson.
I can't believe, our covered wagon caught a flat.
Would you believe in a million years that,
We'd be caught for the winter,
Out here in the hinter-
Lands. And our baby will be born without help of a nurse -
EDITOR'S NOTE: This opera lasts another three-and-a-half hours. The story, to sum up, ends thus: like generations of Janesville dwellers, this plucky trio never made it out. They survived the winter strictly through the generosity of the local Indian tribe, which showed them how to harvest local vegetables, hunt the buffalo, and use every part of its body. In the tradition of peaceful settlers everywhere, they signed a treaty with this local Indian tribe, which allowed both groups to live side-by-side peaceably until the first regiment of the US Cavalry could come by and save them from the savage horrors of peaceful coexistance.
This opera was performed once in 1985, as part of "Janesville Alive! A Janesville Centennial and Suicide Prevention Fair!" We would publish further excerpts of this work, only there's some kind of copyright dispute and also we don't feel like it.
* * * * * * *
A QUESTION ABOUT PAUL O'NEILL'S RECENT FACT-FINDING MISSION
Why is Bono doing a world tour with anyone not named "The Edge"?
TIMELY HUMOR FROM TWO YEARS AGO
I just found an old scrap of paper with this joke on it:
"The XFL* - someone should tell these guys that the word Extreme starts with an E, not an X. Not that anyone would watch somethng called "The EFL" - it sounds like a special class for foreign students to learn English."
* The XFL was The Extreme Football League, founded by Fox Network and WWF** owner Vince McMahon. Since football is the most boring sport in the world, I'm not sure why anyone felt the need to start a second league. The XFL was just like the NFL, except the players were required to fuck the cheerleaders***. Also, the TV coverage featured X-Treme coverage of the stands, which was pretty funny because it meant that you got all these great shots of people dumb enough to pay for tickets to an XFL game.***
** Due to a lawsuit brought by the World Wildlife Federation, the name of the WWF (the World Wrestling Federation) has been changed to the WWE (not sure what it stands for now).*** Also, as part of the settlement, "Hollywood" Terry "Hulk" Hogan was mauled by a panda. His nicknames have been left in trust for his grandchildren, to be collected when they become of age to wrestle professionally.+
*** True story.
+ Probably not true, but it should be.
Friday, June 07, 2002
This week, we've been highlighting the works of Ralph Legaczio, Poet Laureate of Janesville, Wisconsin, to promote his forthcoming book, "Dead End Job: A Celebration of the People of Janesville, WI," published by Vantage Books.
"Three Haikus In Memory of a Beloved Brother, Frank Legaczio, of Legaczio Autos on Pine Street, Where, to Commemorate His Passing, There is a Sale on All Previously Used Autos"
by Ralph Legaczio
There is a foul wind,
Sweeping down the interstate,
Not just from exhaust.
They have buried him,
Just as the competition,
Was by his prices.
A barely-used Ford,
For just nineteen ninety-nine?
Have we gone nutso?
* * * * * * * * * *
WHEN HAS-BEENS DO DINNER THEATRE
This week at the Boca Raton Dinner Theater:
Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman"
Starring David Hasselhoff and ALF
The gay music of the Boys is heard.
WILLY: Oh, Ben, how do we get back to all the great times? Used to be so full of light, and comradeship, the sleigh-riding in winter, and the ruddiness on his cheeks. And always some kind of good news coming up, always something nice coming up ahead. And never even let me -
ALF enters, carrying a length of rubber hose.
ALF: Hey, Willy!
Laugh track goes nuts.
WILLY: Oh, hey ALF. I'm busy. Don't bother me.
ALF: I went out looking for hos -
Laugh track goes nuts.
ALF: - and look what I found.
WILLY: Oh, uh, that. That's, for, my, um -
ALF: You weren't thinking of killing yourself -
WILLY: No, no, I wouldn't -
ALF: At least, not until you've lent me a hundred dollars.
Laugh track goes nuts.
WILLY: No, I - a hundred dollars? What for?
ALF: I found one of those mail-order bride catalogues. I figure one of these Polynesian women could make a better souffle than Linda.
Laugh track goes nuts.
WILLY: ALF, I don't think -
ALF: I mean, if you want to gas yourself to death, just lock yourself in the car after eating one of her famous chicken casseroles.
Laugh track goes nuts. Applause.
WILLY: ALF, I am not lending you a hundred dollars for some mail-order bride. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just catching up with my old friend Ben.
ALF makes a point of looking around the room for Ben. When he sees no one he rolls his eyes and circles his temple with his finger, to indicate "crazy."
ALF: Look, Willy, I understand you're feeling down. After all, you're a complete failure as a salesman.
WILLY: ALF, I don't -
ALF: No, Willy, it's true. You couldn't sell a cat-flavored Life Preserver to a drowning Melmacian.
Laugh track goes nuts.
WILLY: ALF, I don't think you -
ALF: But I have a plan to get you back on top. You know that fancy dinner party the Vandergraffs are throwing next week? Well . . .
ALF leans in and whispers in Willy's ear.
Thursday, June 06, 2002
If you would be so kind as to tell me how you found out about this site - you can leave a comment by clicking on the word "Comment" at the end of this post. I'm really curious. Thanks.
This week I am running the poetry of Ralph Legaczio, poet laureate of Janesville, Wisconsin.
"In Honor of the Third Anniversary of the Opening of the New Wal-Mart in Downtown Beloit"
by Ralph Legaczio
There once was a company named Walmart,
A real true-blue corporate stalwart.
They brought jobs to this town,
So we say, "Come on down,
And we'll show you a store that is all heart."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
WAYS YOU DO NOT WANT YOUR ROOMMATE TO START A CONVERSATION
"I learned an interesting thing about grease fires today . . ."
"Remember when we went to the zoo, how much you loved the little monkeys . . . ?"
"Oh boy, toilet paper, I knew I forgot to buy something . . ."
"Funny thing about those Con Ed shut-off notices . . ."
"I know that after last time, I promised I wouldn't bring any more prostitutes home . . . "
"You can only appreciate Indian sitar-based techno at very loud levels . . ."
"You like kids, right . . . ?"
"The thing is, my guru Bashwan Bathsava told me that I was a prisoner to all material goods, so I . . ."
"Hey, my brother and his wife needed a place to live, and we aren't really using the living room, so I figured . . ."
"Guess who's no longer a stranger to the vagina . . .?"
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
This week I am running the work of Ralph Legaczio, Poet Laureate of Janesville Wisconsin (and parts of downtown Beloit)
"Sex Ed: A Bad Idea"
by Ralph Legaczio
Who is this "Sex Ed," and why should he teach,
Our children in these very schools we pay for?
After all, a minister's not allowed in to preach,
And if he was, we wouldn't need Mr. "Ed," the talking whore.
And all these little monsters need to be taught,
Is what my daddy taught me when I was but nine:
"Now Ralphie, don't get her pregnant and don't ever get caught,
And if you do, blame it on drinking cheap wine."
It's bad enough the ideas these kids get from MTV,
And all the movies made by holdovers from that sex revolution.
I knew the system was going under, and you could see,
It started when these schools started teaching evolution.
So if you should find your child holding a permission slip,
Asking that he be allowed to spend time with "Sex Ed,"
Don't sign at the bottom, just give it a flip,
And write in big block letters, "I'd rather my son be dead."
PEOPLE I SAW AT THE 42nd STREET A/C/E TRAIN STATION ON SUNDAY, 12:33am - 12:45am
* Walking in, I saw two black guys, each wearing a tall maroon fez. They were standing on opposite sides of the turnstile, talking. Eventually, the one inside the train station walked downstairs to wait for the A train. I nearly asked him where I could get such a cool fez, but wussed out.
* A Chinese flautist playing "Killing Me Softly" over and over again.
* A slightly-overweight white woman stalking purposefully down the platform, looking at the floor as if daring it to protest. Walking about five paces behind her, a young man looking as if he was trying to figure what the hell he said wrong.
* A happy couple, she in a brown tank top, holding a quiet conversation with their lips about half an inch apart.
* A guy with a flat-top, holding a brown paper bag with several grease stains. He kept peering into the bag as if trying to talk himself into holding off on eating the contents until he got on the train. After seven minutes of waiting, he pulls out a slice of pizza with vegetables and cottage cheese on top.
* A homeless guy wandering down the platform, wearing two down coats: one worn in the normal style; over his upper body. The other is tied around his head like a hood.
* Just a normal guy whom I decided to believe was secretly a rich fellow who hates the trappings of wealth and chooses not to take a limo or car or taxi, but rather ride among the common people. If he was, then I bet that the twelve minute wait made him reconsider his little "Prine & The Pauper" scheme.
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
This week, we spotlight the work of Ralph Legaczio, Poet Laureate of Janesville, WIsconsin.
"Sonnet for the Repair of the Janesville Public Library Men's Room"
by Ralph Legaczio
'Twas a time a young boy could go and brush,
His hair back with a comb, in the mirror.
And then one day, the toilet would not flush,
But now the day, the day, it draws nearer.
When all men off good will and free spirit,
If it's truly within their abilities,
To see that door marked "MEN'S," to go near it,
And enjoy the restroom facilities.
And once again, we shall watch water flow free,
From taps and sinks and toilets o'erflowing.
From miles around, shall all good men come and see,
And once they have come, shall they start going.
Through the world of pipes and taps and flushers,
Let Reilly Brothers Plumbing be your ushers.
OPEN YOUR MAILBOX WIDE
This is a letter I'm sending out today:
c/o Interscope Records
10900 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90024
My name is Liam. We met in Detroit a few years ago, when we were both on the underground scene. My stage name was "M.C. Juicy-Juice."
Anyway, I hate to bother you, but last time I saw you, I lent you five bucks to get some Taco Bell. You said you'd get me back next time you saw me, but we never ran into each other again.
I heard a couple of your songs. I always said you got "more flow than Tampax," and it's good to see that you're really coming along.
Anyway, if I could get that five bucks back, it'd be great. You know, whenever.
aka, "MC Juicy-Juice"
PS: Seriously, I'd like that five bucks back.
Monday, June 03, 2002
All this week I will be running excerpts of poetry by Ralph Legaczio, the Poet Laureate of Janesville, Wisconsin.
From "I Went To Get Some Coffee: A Saga of the Old Midwest"
by Ralph Legaczio
"Two lumps of suger Fred," I says, I says.
"Same as always," he said.
"You know me Fred," I says, I says.
"I sure do," is what he said.
The waitress came to serve me,
I told her I like the way her fingers taper,
She took my order and walked away from me,
Leaving me to read my morning paper.
I saw the weather report, so I says to Fred,
"Looks like tomorrow's going to be a fine day for fishing."
"Sure would like to get out there," is what he said.
"But you know what to do in one hand while the other hand's wishing."
MY ACT IF I LIVED IN THE TIMES OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
Hey folks, great to see you. Then again, after seeing that harem, it's great to see any human face. If that guy's the Sultan, his harem's inultin', you know what I'm saying?
What's the deal with that lamp you rub and get three wishes, huh? I think they just said that to get women like my wives to do the dusting, am I wrong?
And my fourth wife's cooking? Her babaganoush is more like babagan-ouch! Whoever gave her that recipe is a real babaga-douche, you know what I mean?
I mean, her food is so bad, it got punished by the Shah and thrown into the Pit of a Thousand Cobras. And the cobras threw it right back out again!
Someone asked me if I'd been to Sudan. I said, yes, I've been to Sudan, been to sue Eric, been to sue Achmed, I'm suing everybody.
I've had friendlier audiences in a scorpion pit, I really have.
Have you ever noticed, every plot against the royal family has been instigated by the Royal Vizier? Why don't we just cut out the middleman and execute the Royal Vizier when he takes office? "Yes, I solemnly swear to uphold my office and - aaargh!" What's up with that?
Have you seen these flying carpets? Lot of lesbians with burns on the roof of their mouths is all I know.
Every piece of furniture is flying these days. It's getting so you can't relax in your house without your end table running off with your wife.
I'd love to pull a Shaharezade, but I'm almost out of time. I'd like to tell you, I have scrolls for sale after the show; they say "Execute the Royal Vizier." They make great Ramadan gifts. Thank you very much, good night.
Saturday, June 01, 2002
BEXWATCH: DAY 4
Still no sign of my CD. Hearing mutters from the crew about mutiny. We're down to our last barrel of rainwater, our last week's rations. Sometimes I wonder, did my CD ever really exist? Or was it all an elaborate fantasy? Can't write any more. Must save my strength to keep skipper from eating my left arm.
WISDOM OF THE ELDERS
You know who deserves a punch in the stomach? Well, what are you waiting for? That wasn't a rhetorical question.
According to Amazon.com, customers who bought "Satisfaction: The Art of the Female Orgasm" by Kim Cattrall, Mark Levinson, and Fritz Drury also bought:
The Nanny Diaries: A Novel by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus
June is busting out all over, and everyone's doing their Spring cleaning! In that spirit, I'm going to clean jokes out of my notebook, jokes that for one reason or another I never performed onstage. So join me as we take a
VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF MY NOTEBOOK
WHY DO WOMEN LIKE TO MAKE OUT WITH ME SO MUCH?
My tongue is naturally coated with Ecstasy!
JOIN DA POLICE!
The NYPD was recruiting in my library branch the other day. With all respect to the police, I think that if you're looking for "New York's Finest," I doubt you'll find them at the Public Library at two in the afternoon.
"Hmm, the guy muttering to himself as he reads the 'Who's Who of 1978' upside-downlooks very community-minded. Maybe the old couple yelling at each other."
I read in the paper that this is "Gun Amnesty Month." Gun Amnesty Month again? Has a year passed so quickly?
You can go into any Police Station and hand in a gun and get a hundred bucks, no questions asked. What's awesome is that I know where to get an illegal handgun for fifty.
Also, if you turn in someone you know has an illegal gun, you get a three hundred dollar reward. Guess what everyone's getting for their birthdays this year!
BAD COMPANY, THAT'S WHAT THEY CALL ME
Gary Condit and Bill Clinton really appalled me. I mean, look at these guys; they're not at all attractive and they get laid like crazy. That's why I've decided to start a company whose sole purpose is to have interns. No product, and I'll be the only full-time employee. Me and three hundred hot young college interns. I just want to be alone with a bunch of impressionable young women.
Also, when I say "company," I mean "cult." And when I say "impressionable," I mean "low self-esteem with bad childhoods and a tendency towards alcoholism."
HERE'S A JOKE I SHOULDN'T HAVE EVEN WRITTEN:
(This is supposed to be part of a longer piece about my being from Queens)
You know what they say, you can take the boy out of Queens, but you can't take the queens out of a boy, unless you use a crowbar