Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Your lonely nights are over.
It's funny how things have changed. Ten years ago, we were facing the New Year, making all these wishes for things improving and vowing to correct the mistakes of the past.
Now I'm just saying, "Well, at least nothing blew up this year. Hey, maybe next year the stock market will stop going down. I don't care if it gets better, but it might stop getting worse!"
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS
Since I'm perfect, I decided to make resolutions for people around me. Please read this list and use accordingly. Thanks!
* I realize that people get bad jokes forwarded to them via e-mail all the time. I hereby resolve to first ask permission of all 3000 people on my mass BCC list before e-mailing them the joke about the guy brings a car door across the desert.
* I resolve to keep a diary of all the anecdotes I tell, and to which people I tell them, so that my friends will not be stuck at a party grinning through the same story of my uncle's lost front tooth for the twentieth time.
* I realize that people do not go to bars or restaurants to hear me talk. I resolve to be either less boring or much quieter when I talk.
* I will never again confuse having a drinking problem with having an interesting personality.
* I will never again pretend to be really into an artist I've never heard of to impress other people. I have learned that I consistently end up sounding like a dork when I do this.
* Just because I can recite sections of "Monty Python & the Holy Grail" doesn't mean I should recite sections of "Monty Python & the Holy Grail." I'd be surprised how that tends to kill a conversation rather than add to it.
* Needy nuerotic people are only charming in movies. I will either hire a team of Hollywood screenwriters to punch up my life, or cut it out.
* I will learn the difference between "saying something incredibly hostile" and "kidding." If I do say something hostile and offensive, I will not act like everyone around me needs a better sense of humour.
And here's one for everyone who reads my blog:
* I will have a happy and healthy New Year, and we'll all see each other soon!
Monday, December 30, 2002
Adam Felber, who's getting married today. You can visit Adam's blog and offer your condolences.
TODAY'S WORDS OF WISDOM
If your college has a jingle, don't tell people you went there.
TATTOO TIMES A LADY
A lot of people get tattoos to make a statement. And that statement is mostly, "I don't plan more than three weeks in advance."
Or, "I make bad decisions when I'm drunk."
Let's face it; getting a tattoo is like getting bell-bottom jeans sewn to your legs. You don't want to be an eighty-year old woman explaining to your grandkids, "You see, there used to be this band called 'Limp Bizkit.' I really thought it was Limp Bizkit 4Ever. This tree? I don't know, I really liked trees."
Saturday, December 28, 2002
or Send in the Clones
You know those women who claim to have cloned a baby?
They're actually the representatives of an extraterrestrial race called "the Raelians."
Why not check out their website?
It actually has a cool Flash intro.
Friday, December 27, 2002
Seriously. Every teen revenge fantasy movie has the same story - there's a dorky guy who has a crush on some sallow-faced, bleach-blonde cheerleader. But she's dating the school's biggest bully, usually the quarterback of the football team whose name is "Brick" or "Jock" or "Grunt" or somesuch manly name.
The movie ends with Our Hero humiliating the bully and getting his girlfriend.
First of all, why does the teen want this girl? She's usually sallow, vapid, and materialistic. As soon as the glory of fucking his enemy's girlfriend is over, our lad is going to find himself stuck paying for her skin-tight Jordaches and trying to explain world politics to someone whose world-view clearly doesn't extend past the politics of who gets to be head cheerleader once Tiffany graduates.
And another thing - why would you want anything to do with a woman who clearly enjoysspending her time with a-holes? Do you think that just because her man is no longer someoen who enjoys giving swirlies and challenging foreign exchange students to drag races, that she'll magically quit enjoying these activities and want to curl up with a good book on a Sunday morning?
No - she'll try to change you, son. She'll lure you from your studies and your t-squares, and start you off small; pulling legs off of caterpillars, say, or mocking the foreign echange student's accent. Then, once your conscience has been inured, she'll work her way up to stripping you of your morality, until all that's left is a hollow core - a ninety-pound nerd with the mad, hollow eyes of a jock. A Popular Boy in an Unpopular skin.
That's why teen movies end when they do; so you can enjoy the happy ending without wallowing in the moral decay.
But I think the most important question will remain ever unanswered: Why do I care?
Thursday, December 26, 2002
Seriously, who was the guy who said that Steven Seagal was an action star? First of all, and let's be honest, Steven Seagal is a tubby Jew from Staten Island. Okay, he's a ponytail and three judo lessons from being "Steve in accounting who used petty cash to get hookers in Vegas."
And he doesn't even do real karate. He does that fake "Hiiiyah!" thrashing-around (I think this will be funnier when I act it out on stage) "karate" that my friends and I would do as eight-year olds after watching The Karate Kid three times in a row.
AND WHAT WAS UP WITH THE KARATE KID?
It was the story of how Ralph Macchio went to a new high school where the school bullies were trained ninjas. Jesus Christ, these guys were overachievers. They spent more time learning how to beat the crap out of people than most bullies spent just plain beating the crap out of people.
Of course, they had the time, seeing as how they went to a high school where there was only one girl. I guess you'd have to learn karate to fight off every single other guy in high school to get a date with the one girl. (So I forget her name. So sue me.)
Also, their school apparently had no football team, hich meant they couldn't just go out and date rape weekends.
Anyway, the weirdest part was that the bullies not only were trained ninjas, but their sensei was this crazy Vietnam vet guy urging them to go beat people up. What was his problem? I mean, the bullies had an excuse, they went to a high school with only one girl, but why did this guy care if they beat up the school nerd? Maybe the DVD has a deleted flashback scene where we see the sensei in his high school, getting beaten up by the Chess Team.
OF course, Daniel deserved a beating. What did the dumbass do? He went and hired the creepy janitor of his motel to teach him karate. When most young men get lured back to the apartment of the building janitor, they BLAH BLAH BLAH. (Insert your own cheap and lazy "Wack on, Wack off" joke here. Even I can't do it.)
Tomorrow: What's up with the girls in teen revenge fantasy movies?
A whopping five percent of visitors to this blog are from Saudi Arabia.
Now, I'm pretty sure that they're just here after Googling for porn. But what if they aren't?
From what I've read, it seems that the Saudis are heavy into Al Qaeda - Osama was a Saudi, most of the 9/11 hijackers were Saudis, there seems to be Saudi money flowing into "charities" that aid the terrorist cause.
I've also read that Al Qaeda communicates through random websites.
And I thought, "What if these terrorists have accidentally picked up on my website, and think I'm sending them coded messsages? What if I'm accidentally causing worldwide destruction?"
So here's a coded message for Al Qaeda (sorry Western infidels):
Wednesday, December 25, 2002
COPYRIGHT 2002 LIAM McENEANEY
Written By: Liam McEneaney
Distributed by Liam McEneaney
Any unauthorized reproduction of this post without express written consent by Liam McEneaney, Liam McEneaney Productions, their agents or affiliates, is strictly forbidden. Violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This was an Original Liam McEneaney Production
Tuesday, December 24, 2002
In the spirit of the holidays, I offer you this gift.
IF YOUR CELL PHONE RING IS "JINGLE BELLS"
then there's no need to thank me; I'll be very happy to punch you in the face.
If you have an annoying cell phone ring, I have only one request - answer your fucking phone. Thank you, that was very therapeutic.
The thing that really bugs me about annoying cell phone rings is when people confuse mine ("The Yellow Rose of Texas") for one. Mine is awesome. Yours is annoying.
MORE ON SPORTS NICKNAMES
I was thinking some more on what would be an awesome sports team nickname. And I think that if I was the Knicks and wanted to be unstoppable, my Knickname (LOL GET IT??!!!! :-) would be "Their Kids."
Follow me on this:
No sports team wants to hear on ESPN: "The Mavericks are gearing up tonight to beat Their Kids. It's been a long time coming, but they're finally home and ready to face Their Kids head to head. If I were Their Kids, I'd be scared."
"I agree, Rick. I haven't seen a match-up this fierce since last Fall, when they were facing Their Wives."
Monday, December 23, 2002
I made the mistake of stopping in at K-Mart last night (it was the only place open I could buy a cheap notebook).
They have a lot of food you can buy your family for Christmas. They'e got these giant gift tins of cookies. There should be a warning on these tins: "SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Everyone knows you're buying this for yourself. Enjoy eating twenty pounds of fudge alone."
I also saw a gift pack of salami - four loaves of salami in a crate for ten bucks. That's a gift that says, "I drew your name in the office Secret Santa pool. Thus ends a year of avoiding eye contact with you. Here's something I saw while I was shopping for extension cords."
PEOPLE DRINK TOO MUCH AND OVEREAT ON THE HOLIDAYS
It's like they're saying, "In this most joyous season, let's see how much I can self-destruct. With a little effort, I'll be dead by New Year's."
Saturday, December 21, 2002
How about a porn star action figure?
Dad will love it!
As will Creepy Uncle Will that you're not allowed to be alone with!
I have a piece in this month's Jest magazine, NY's newest humor rag. And you've never seen it on this blog, you can only get it in Jest.My piece focuses on a series of letters from my crazy uncle to the late composer Antonio Vivaldi. There's other funny stuff from Bob Powers, Todd Levin, Chris Regan, Victor Varnado, Andres DuBouchet, and much more.
Friday, December 20, 2002
And one nice thing about working with kids is that, in the past I would hear a child screaming and crying in a store, and I would get all mad and quietly swear at the parent.
Now I hear that and I just relax and think, "Thank God I don't have to deal with that."
GUYS IN DENIAL
Any guy in a relationship will always be in denial about it, because in the baqck of his mind, he can sleep with any woman he wants: "Oh, no man, we're just seeing each other. It isn't an exclusive thing."
Like, you'll see a guy at his bachelor party talking to the stripper, saying, "Yeah, it's not so much a wedding as a way for our families to get together."
What's really funny is when a guy pulls the old "Let's See Other people For Awhile" thing. Because what he doesn't know he's saying is, "Let's find out that I'm not attractive to other people, but you are. Then I'll freak out that you were dating other people while I was cruising Nerve.com."
Confidential to JR: I've been working on this premise for the last week or so, I swear.
HERE'S A JOKE EVERYONE WILL HATE
I'm poor, and it's hard to do holiday shopping when you're poor. Luckily, I found the perfect gift that's free, and comes with a lot of love: AIDS. Fellas, I guarantee she'll never forget you.
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Things you don't want to hear from someoen coming out of the bathroom:
* Where's my biohazard suit?
* I can see!
* You have more clean towels, right?
* Rangor, Dark Lord of Fredrokk is reborn in the dark scales of the dragon!
* Your cat's dead.
* Don't worry, I know a good plumber.
* Don't worry, I know a good priest.
* Don't worry, I know where I can get us new identities in Mexico.
* Don't worry, if you want it here it is come and get it, but you better hurry 'cause it may not last.
* I think I just gave birth!
* I think I just discovered a magical portal to another land!
* That midget's a goddamned liar whatever he says.
* There is no God.
Monday, December 16, 2002
The Jets are known as "Gang Green." But that's not a scary nickname. What's the worst thing about gangrene? Amputation? The worst you can say is, "Yeah, bet on Gang Green and you'll lose an arm and a leg."
They should call it something scary like "Cancer."
That way, even if the Los Angeles Rams can catch Cancer, why would they want to?
Buy the way, when I say "even if," I mean "when."
WHEN YOU WORK WITH LITTLE KIDS
you have to listen to their music. There are only a certain number of times you can listen to Ashanti before your soul dies.
And that number is "one."
Saturday, December 14, 2002
This weekend, why not read something fucking hilarious? Like the transcript of Woody Allen, Stand Up Comedian.
Question of the weekend: I hate to perpetuate an awful racist stereotype, but why are the Danish so into transcribing comedy? Best answer wins a bag of Munchos! (Contingent on my being able to find a bag of Munchos. If I'm unable to find Munchos, another snack food will be substituted.)
THE NO-FUN RANDOM LINK OF THE WEEK!
Here it is; it isn't evil - it's only mediocre so it's mid-evil.
Friday, December 13, 2002
I saw it at the Sunshine Cinema, an art-house theatre. Also playing there was Bowling for Columbine. Before the movies, they tend to have IFC promos and trailers for edgy "alternative" movies.
There was a trailer for John Cusack's next movie, which is an edgy "thriller" about killers escaping to a motel, and detectives just happen to show up and there's killing a'plenty. And I realized that this "edgy" "alternative" movie was a slasher film. Set in a motel. It's a movie that's three deliberately shitty lighting sources form being a drive-in flick. I think the biggest death in that movie is indie film's street cred.
Anyway, halfway through Adaptation, Donald Kaufman, a stupid screenwriter that represents crass Hollywood's commercial demands, describes his first screenplay as "Psycho meets Silence of the Lambs." And I realized that he was describing the John Cusack movie we'd seen the trailer for before the movie.
I guess that at heart I'm just a cranky old snob.
Oh yeah, and you might want to not read this entry if you don't want Adaptation ruined for you.
My friend Susie Felber writes really funny horoscopes for a certain cable channel that rhymes with Bomb-edy Central. Check them out, you won't be sorry.
Plus, if you start an e-mail correspondace with her, there's a good chance you may find a horoscope personalized just for you.
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Have you ever listened to the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas"? It tells quite a little story:
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree.
Gee, honey, a tree. Just what I needed in a one-room apartment. Oh, look, a bird. How nice. Did you get me a cage for it? No? it just lives in the tree. How darling.
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves.
Oh, look, more birds. O boy . . . I love birds. Great. Did you happen to buy me bird food? No? How about something to clean up all the partridge poop?
On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three French hens.
You know, I love chicken, it's delicious, but how unique. You didn't uh, dress it, or clean it or anything. They're still alive as a matter of fact. Mmmmm, maybe you could - oh, they're pets. How great. No, of course I love my gifts.
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, four calling birds.
Goddammit, these fucking birds are loud. Did you happen to buy me some bird food - no? More birds. And these are so noisy I won't be able to sleep. Let me tell you something asshole, if I get any more birds from you, we're through.
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five golden rings.
Oh honey, I love you.
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, six geese a'laying.
Great, now I've got these goddamn geese in my computer paper laying eggs all over everything. And if I get near tyhem, they attack me.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me, seven swans a swimming.
Jesus H. Christ, are you out of your fucking mind?!!! There's birds in my bathtub. What the hell is it with you and these - I know I told you I liked birds! I meant on a pattern, or maybe a canary. Get out of my house! Get out of my life!
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, eight maids a'milking.
Hello, is Jim there? Jim, this is Charlene. Yeah, I'm calling about this last present you sent me. Look, why are there eight women with cows squirting milk all over my living room? You know I"m lactose intolerant. What do you mean I can't get rid of them? What do you mean, you ordered them from the Phillipenes out of a catalogue? I don't care, just get rid of them right now!!!
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing.
I don't care if I wanted you to take me to the ballet, this is ridiculous. Let me tell you something, my lawyer and I are going to court today to get a restraining order. And as soon as I can figure out a way to get the Bolshoi Ballet back to Russia, my borthers are coming over there to break your head!!!
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, ten lords a' leaping.
First of all, the judge said that your trafficking in human slave labor is illegal and disgusting. Second of all, if you send me one more gift, you're going to jail. Third of all, I guess you know who I expect to pay for the repairs to my ceiling from all these lords jumping all overt the place on their trampolines and cracking their heads.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me, eleven pipers piping.
Dear Mr. Bronson;
My client, Ms. Charlene Anderson wants it known that you are hereby ordered to cease and desist your pattern of aggravated harassment. Mr. MacCullogh, and His Scotland Pipers, though they have been ordered out of her apartment, continue to play outside her window at all hours, quote, "Bicase, that iz whut wi've bin paid fir, and that iz whet wi're ginna do." Enclosed is another copy of the restraining order placed against you ...
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming.
Jim, I must thank you for sending over Mbutu and His South African All Stars. We are to marry at once, and take this crazy menagerie of animals out to Virginia, where we will start a farm, using the money from them rings I pawned yesterday. Thanks for the present, and I'll send you a postcard to let you know how we're doing.
So it looks like there's going to be a huge transit strike here in New York. They're going to shut down everything - the buses, the trains. In fact, I hear that it's going to be so bad that the G train will start running. (For those of you from out of town: if you ever want to impress a New Yorker, make a rueful joke about how bad the G train is. They will snort, smile, shake their head, and assume that you are worldly and well-travelled.)
Of course, no one is thinking about those who will be most impacted: doo-wop groups that only know half a song. How are they going to make their three to four dollars an hour singing half of "Mr. Sandman" if the trains ain't running?
Monday, December 09, 2002
Which means we have a mere six years until she becomes a crazy born-again Christian.
BEFORE I STARTED TEACHING
I didn't understand people who had kids, why they were so excited. To me it was like people who'd found religion; I tried to respect their choice, but there was always a point where they try to convert you - "Hey Liam, you know our lives have really been fulfilled since we had a baby. Join us. Join us." And when you don't, they turn against you as an infidel and start to congregate with their own kind. Next thing you know, you hear tell of strange, bizarre rituals and rites like "The Board Game Party," and the "Play Date."
Do you know what a "Play Date" is? It's where two seperate parents make an appointment for their kids to get together and play. What are these kids doing that's so important that they have to make appointments for play?
"Well, I have a three o'clock hissy fit, and my mom will probably make me take a nap. But I suppose I can squeeze you in for forty-five minutes before I start drawing on the bathroom wall with my new crayons. Great, have your girl call my girl."
Saturday, December 07, 2002
Here is one of the most genius songs ever written, as recorded by one of the greatest artists of the twentieth century on mp3.
And when you have a minute, why not read the transcript of the famous Groucho Marx Carnegie Hall show, "An Evening with Groucho"? (If anyone has a copy of this recording, I'd pay you ten bucks plus S+H to burn me a copy.)
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Things That Are Only Funny When Said In A Funny Gay Voice
* Stocking stuffer
* Santa's little helper
* Coming down the chimney
* Jingle my bells!
* He knows when you are sleeping
* Striped candy cane
* Sit on my lap and tell me what you want
* Festival of lights
* One horse open sleigh
* Some of you have been naughty and some of you have been nice
* Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
* On Dasher! On Dancer! On Donner! On Blitzen!
* Who wants egg nog?
* Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?
* I am a funny gay guy who likes cock!
Monday, December 02, 2002
in which Liam demonstrates why all comedians should have non-comedy friends
Here's a dramatisation of one comedian comforting another:
JOHN: Hey, man, thanks for coming over. I don't know, ever since Jane left me ...
FRANK: No problem. That's what friends are for. Do you have any beer?
JOHN: In the fridge. I just can't believe it -
FRANK: I know. How'd you find out? Did she leave you a note?
JOHN: No, she called me.
FRANK: Ouch. Mind if I have another beer?
JOHN: Uh, sure. Go ahead.
JOHN: Yeah, it's weird. I was doing this show at the Chucklehut, and -
FRANK: Wait, the Chucklehut? Where's that?
JOHN: In Sandusky.
FRANK: Ohio, right?
FRANK: How'd you get that? I've been trying to get some more road work.
JOHN: I had my booking manager, Tommy -
FRANK: You have a booking manager?
JOHN: Yeah, Tommy at 4Square Entertainment.
FRANK: I didn't know there was a new guy working there. The last guy - Jack - wouldn't even look at my tape.
JOHN: Well, I guess I could hook you up.
FRANK: Could you? Thanks buddy. Mind if I have another beer?
JOHN: Uh, go ahead. Anyway, I don't know, I just feel like killing myself -
FRANK: Oh man, that reminds me of this joke I heard DiPaolo tell last week -