The Liam McEneaney Experience

After almost 30 years, my upstairs neighbor moved out last month. I found him somewhat annoying, what with his insistence on vacuuming at one in the morning for what seemed like hours at a time. Or his phase where he played the theme from Twin Peaks loudly over and over and over again for what was definitely hours at a time.

Well, this past weekend I came home to find the following note slipped under my door:
"Dear Neighbors:

Greetings! I wanted to introduce myself to you. My husband David and I are in the process of moving into Apt. 5A. I just wanted to let you know that you may be hearing music soon. I am a pianist and composer and I am preparing for a recital coming up in January. David and I will be purchasing materials to better soundproof the room. In the meantime, I still need to practice! (she drew a smiley face here I swear to God) I will do my best to be considerate of my practicing schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding. We look forward to meeting you soon.

Sincerely,
Bxxxx Mxxx"

Okay, first of all, announcing that you're going to do something rude and inconsiderate isn't the same thing as being considerate. It's even worse, because not only are you an asshole, but you're completely aware of it.

I know a lot of musicians, and they all like to do something called "renting a studio to practice in." I'm not a musician, and I know three numbers she can call. Perhaps I will considerately slip them under her door.

Now, normally you can complain to your landlord, but as long-time readers know, my landlord hates me. Hates me. I've been living in the same rent-controlled apartment my whole life, which means I pay a lot less rent than they'd like. And they've tried a few ways to get me out.

My favorite was the time I was giving in rent checks that were overpaid by ten dollars, and so they decided that they didn't have to cash my checks because they were for the wrong amount. That's right, I have the only landlord in history who gets upset when he receives too much money. I believe the plan was to wait until they'd not deposited six months worth of rent and then sue for eviction based on nonpayment of an amount I could clearly never pay back.

So not only do I think the guy wouldn't be too sympathetic, I suspect he's deliberately found the worst kind of tenant to drive me crazy with.

At first I was so furious I couldn't think straight, but now I'm adopting a bit more of a wait-and-see attitude. Perhaps this woman will work on getting her soundproofing done in a day. Perhaps she will practice from late morning to early afternoon. Perhaps I will get a Dream Job in LA and leave my neighborhood behind. Perhaps I will become a magic fairy princess and wish away all the bad people in the world.

*sigh*

More on the shitty people I find myself crossing paths with as they work their way out of my life.

* * * * *

This isn't a YouTube link per se, but please check out this live performance on TV's The View from the cast of the new Twyla Tharp/Bob Dylan Broadway musical The Time They Are A' Changin'. It is - breathtaking.

Greetings, boils and ghouls, I hope you paid your sinsurance scream-iums. And have your mummy listed as your Next of sKin, because this week's "Tell Your Friends" is the scariest one yet.

No, it's never a skull moment, and we don't plan to ghost when it comes to performing. So zom-be ready to Boo! the scum-edians. No wait, on second snot, don't boo. Bring Mr. Hyde, not Dr. Heckle.

Who am I, the Crypt Keeper? By the way, if you missed last week's TYF!, you missed me having to kick out two women who wouldn't stop heckling. Here's what they were overheard saying on the way out:

WOMAN #1: I can't believe we're getting kicked out of a comedy show!
WOMAN #2: I know. It's not like we were shooting heroin and rolling naked on the floor!

No, if you were doing that, then you would not only be welcome, you'd probably be headlining the show. Anyway, this week we have a group of comedians who may or may not be shooting drugs and rolling naked on the floor (probably not):

MONDAY, OCT. 23rd, 2006
at the Lolita Bar
226 Broome St., corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE

HOSTED BY: Mr. Baron Vaughn - Baron Vaughn Dracula, that is!

WITH:
DJ Hazard - Boston's classic headlining comedian
Q: Where does Dracula write his innermost thoughts?
A: On his Blah blah blog!

Adam Cole-Kelly - the Rudy of writing comedy for television
Q: What position did a teenage Dracula hold on the New York Mets?
A: Bat boy.

Liam McEneaney - as seen on basic cable
Q: Why did the zombie drop out of college?
A: He was too ghoul for school!

Brooke Van Poppelen - straight from the Midwest like a heart attack
Q: What did the diva who looks like she died five years ago take to calm her nerves?
A: A tranqui-liza minelli.

Fiona Walsh - from Ireland just like in that horror movie Leprechaun
Q: I'm tired of thinking up these jokes.
A: Okay. We're done here.

For some reason, over the years I've been placed on a lot of random e-mail lists: Orthodox Jewish singles services, bands i've never heard of in other cities, and Meatpacking District club party VIP invite lists. The last are especially of interest, because if you've ever met me, you know that my dream is to stand in a loud club sipping a $17.00 cocktail while get knocked into by some Jersey girl who fells moved by the music to dance on a table.

Yes, my favorite hobby is "quietly seething."

Anyhoozle, there's one list, ImpulseNYC, that's been super-excited about their upcoming Halloween party, to the extent that they've sent me quite a few e-mails.

Here's my actual response to their latest:

> We just wanted to drop you a short email about Friday night at Guest House RSVP.
>(west 27th between 10th-11th ave). We have sent you a few emails this week and we
> appreciate you taking the time to read them.

Dear Impulse NYC;

I received your e-mail about Friday night at Guest House. While I appreciate the fact that you kept it short, I have to say that I find the second line baffling.

You tell me that you have sent me a few e-mails and you thank me for having taken the time to read them. However, I almost always* delete your e-mails unread, which you have probably surmised from the fact that I have never taken you up on the opportunity to RSVP for an evening of what I'm sure is Upper East Side yuppie stockbroker scumbags and New Jersey trash getting drunk and screaming and grinding each other right before finally vomiting all over the sidewalk outside of your club.

Also, the three attempts I made to unsubscribe might have been a clue, but I say that if you're willing to overlook them then so am I. After all, every relationship must have its rocky points, right? The important thing is that we're here now.

All that being said, one can only assume that this second sentence "thanking" me for reading your e-mails was sarcasm; pure, uncalled-for sarcasm which I find both confusing and hurtful.

Why, ImpulseNYC? Why must you lash out so? Is it the fact that you have been so imbued with the spirit of generosity that you made a decision several years ago to invite me into your clubbing party world - despite the fact that I've never expressed interest in it?

Does it hurt your feelings to imagine that I shake my head in condescending disgust before deleting your e-mails, my lips curled in a superior smirk. Have no fear if that's your concern; I never give your e-mails that much thought, and certainly never invest them with even the bare minimum emotion required to feel the disdain necessary to move even a facial muscle.*

Perhaps you saw my complete disinterest in dressing up exactly like all three of my stockbroker buddies - hair gelled back, khakis and pink dress shirt - and setting out for an evening of drunkenly annoying women until I pass out as shyness. Perhaps you saw my reticence to do blow in a mens' room stall with a gaggle of day-traders as coyness.

Or perhaps you are the one who's shy, ImpulseNYC. Perhaps you are reaching out to me in friendship, and I am recoiling not from disgust at your hard-partying ways, but rather in the same fear of intimacy that has kept me from enjoying the friendship of all the others who have tried to get closer to me via their mass e-mail lists - the mortgage brokers, the Irish Lottery "YOU WON JACKPOT" guys, the no-fee credit card lenders, the Nigerian princes attempting to dispose of their fathers' fortunes, and yes, even the army of "re:Viagagraha" peddlers.

Have no fear, ImpulseNYC; the fact that my end of the conversation has always been silent is not a personal rejection of your friendship, but rather a complete lack of interest in attending any of your events.

Thank you your e-mail, hope to see you in the future,

Yours etcetera and run off three copies of that Grace -

Liam McEneaney


*with the exception of this one, clearly

* * * * *

That anti-stem cell research ad I was telling youse guys about (thanks Charles).



Please note that this ad has an appearance from a Major League Baseball pitcher, an NFL quarterback, and a guy who played Jesus in a movie a couple of years ago. You know who they don't have speaking out against stem-cell research? Actual doctors and scientists.

I mean, don't get me wrong, when I was a kid and had appendicitis, my parents drove me to Darryl Strawberry's house to get it removed, but in general, I'm going to say that you can leave medical science to people who don't get their brains knocked out for a living.

And you might say, "But isn't this just a response to an ad starring Michael J. Fox, a movie star?" Yeah, but he's a movie star with Parkinson's. He might have done a little bit of research over the years.

If anyone has a link to video of this ad, please let me know:

Group counters Michael J. Fox stem cell campaign ad
(Jefferson City, Mo.-AP) October 25, 2006 - The US Senate race in Missouri has sparked dueling political ads focused on stem cell research.

The opening salvo came from Democrats running an ad featuring Michael J. Fox. The actor, who has Parkinson's announced his support for Democratic challenger Claire McCaskill because she backs stem cell research.

But backers of incumbent Senator Jim Talent have produced a stem cell ad of their own. That ad features five celebrities - including NFL quarterback Kurt Warner, "Everybody Loves Raymond" actress Patricia Heaton, and St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Jeff Suppan.

And I am gonna write a full-on review of it in a couple of days when I'm not so, how we say, drunk, tired, and expected to operate a moving vehicle in six and a half hours. And drunk.

So just for now, I will say that it's way, way better than something called Evil Dead: The Musical deserves to be.

As a piece of musical theatre, it has some work to do (and to be fair, it's still in previews, so they're working out the kinks), but as a live experience, especially if you're a fan of the movies it's based on, it really is a fantastic thing to experience. Just a hella fun evening If you're in NYC, I would highly recommend going to see it. In fact, here's the website: Evil Dead: The Musical.

* * * * *

To the woman writing in her diary sitting next to me on the E train home tonight:
You should dump Trey. He sounds like a real douche.

* * * * *

The other day, I found myself thinking that I wished I was less judgmental.

Then I realized that what I really wished was that other people weren't so fucking dreadful.

* * * * *

Whoever coined the phrase "hits like a girl" clearly never dated one. Because when they get mad at you, they can hit pretty hard.

* * * * *

Here's a Sammy Hagar video from the '80s, where he saves the USA from Commies. Yes. Really. (Courtesy my buddy Chris Regan). Watch, enjoy, and say, "The fuck is this?":

Tonight, I am seeing this fine fine piece of theatre:



I will post a review, only not tomorrow, because my day starts at 6am, when I wake up for my 7:00am driving lesson.

People say nonsense like, "Love is more precious than gold."

Well, of course. You can live without gold. It's just a metal. That's dumb, that's like saying, "Love is more precious than steel."

If you really want to impress me, talk about something you really can't live without.
Like, "Love is more precious than coffee."
Or, "Your love means more to me than all the blueberry pancakes in the world."

Because any guy can tell you, "I love you more than all the money in the world."
Because guys who say stuff like that generally don't have any money.

But ladies, if your fella ever says, "Baby, if it made you happy, I'd spend the rest of my life using that one-ply 39-cent toilet paper," marry him. Because that is commitment.

Marry him, and then never let him shop for toilet paper, because life's too short for that.

* * * * *

There's only one man I love right now, and his name is That Catch Endy Chaves Made. If you didn't see it, here it is:

It was still a great game.

And this catch was simply Amazin':



* * * * *

And why not check out an Amazin' show, while you're at it:

MONDAY, OCT. 23rd, 2006
at the Lolita Bar
226 Broome St., corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE

WITH:
JASON REICH
is a five-time Emmy-winning writer for "The Daily Show w/ Jon Stewart"

MIKE O'CONNELL
has been seen on "Jimmy Kimmell Live," at the Aspen Comedy Festival, and was Rolling Stone magazine's Hot Comic for 2005.

TONY CAMIN
is a writer/performer of the Marijuanalogues (touring with Tommy Chong) and has appeared at the U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen and on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien," "Premium Blend," "Jimmy Kimmel Live," and "Tough Crowd w/ Colin Quinn"

LIAM McENEANEY
from Comedy Central's "Premium Blend," VH1's "Best Week Ever," and was a writer for Comedy Central's "Standup Nation w/ Greg Giraldo"

JOHN F. O'DONNELL
is the host of "Check Your Cool" at the Parkside Lounge

And our house band A Brief View of the Hudson!

And here's Mike O'Connell on Comedy Central's "The World Stands Up":

I caught your head cold bad. Yes, your cold.

I know, there's a few people who read this, but dammit, everyone else in the world has a bad cold, and now I've got it.

So I blame you.

I hope this turns out to be that disease that turns people into super-fast zombies and I get to eat your brains.

For shame, rest of the world. For shame!

is that it didn't hit St. Louis instead.

What a dumpywaste-of-space little town filled with the world's ugliest baseball fans. Seriously, I was watching the fans in the stands, and all I could think was, "St. Louis has the woirld's loneliest Weight Watcher's meetings tonight."

* * * * *

I was on a date once (once! *sigh*), and a guy tried to sell me roses on the street. I said "No," so I guess he tried to embarrass me. He said, "What you ain't got no money?"

I said, "No, I guess I don't have any money."

And he said, "What you going to retire on?"

And I was like, dude, you sell roses on the street. You only do that when all else has literally failed. You sell roses on the street when Plan B has failed, and you're on Plan F'ed.

Don't worry 'bout my 401k, pal.

* * * * *

The less you know someone, the more likely they are to give you advice.

And it's never someone who's an expert in the field they're giving you advice in.

"Having trouble with your car? Sounds like a problem with the fan belt."
"Are you a mechanic?"
"No, I'm a gardener. But I've owned several cars."

* * * * *

And here's Seattle comedian James Inman getting bumrushed onstage by two lesbians who hate his act:

I don't understand why straight guys hate the homosexual mens.

I mean, I understand, it's one thing if you have brunch with them, then you think, "Okay, these gays are annoying."

But straight guys should love the gays, and I'll tell you why: For every gay friend your wife or girlfriend has, that's an hour you don't have to listen to her.

"You want to talk about our relationship? Great. I'll call Carlos; he can be here in an hour.

I wish I was gay; then I'd never have trouble getting women to talk to me.

* * * * *

I don't get decaf coffee. You're taking caffeine out of coffee? Why? It's not like coffee tastes good - the caffeine's the only thing that makes it bearable.

That's like saying, "Man, I love snorting cocaine, but I hate that it makes me so damn high. Could someone get me that drug-free weed?"

Forget decaf; I just want coffee that doesn't make me dump like a Stegosaurus fifteen minutes after.

* * * * *

Here's one of the first true rap/metal fusions - Anthrax and Public Enemy teaming up on Bring the Noise:

The trick to writing a resume is exaggerating your accomplishments. Like, if I were honest on my resume, it would read:
"2004 - ROPER STARCH WORLDWIDE - Hated my job so much, I went out drinking every night. Once got home in time to wake up for work in the morning. Was trying to save sick days for upcoming vacation, so came into work drunk. Ended up taking a nap on toilet for three hours and no one noticed. Realized monkey in Dockers could do job as well as I could."

But that's not the resume of a winner. So I just wrote:
"2004 - ROPER STARCH WORLDWIDE - Cured AIDS."

The worst is getting caught lying on your resume in a job interview. Because it's just awkward:
"Mr. McEneaney, your resume says you were CEO of IBM from 2000 - 2005. Which is a little odd, considering that you're applying for a job at IBM. It just doesn't make sense that you would leave this company as CEO and then apply for a job here doing data entry.
"Also, on your resume it says that from 1972 through 1981 you were the star of M*A*S*H? And that you left that to become - Pope?
"And may I say that I really am impressed by this letter of reference from the Archbishop of Canterbury. You would think, being the Archbishop of Canterbury, he could spell the word 'Archbishop.' Or 'Pope.' Or 'Hello.'
"It's almost as impressive as this letter of reference from the Cardinal of St. Louis - Albert Pujols. Written in red crayon. On Grafield stationary. I guess God hates Mondays, too."

* * * * *

Things are pretty tense for Mets fans right now. But I'd like to remind you of another Mets team that had fallen heind in a postseason series; had seemed, in fact, like it was beaten, done-for, gone for good. It was Game Six of the World Series, and it looked so bad for the Mets that Shea Stadium had already put up a sign on the scoreboard congratulating the Red Sox.

Instead, at the bottom of the 10th inning, the NY Mets created true baseball magic. Enjoy the recreation of that inning using the audio from the broadcast fo that game, acted out by the players from the old Nintendo RBI Baseball game:



And here's a real-life portrayal of that game from the Ric Burn Baseball documentary:

This is kinda last minute, but I'll be on the Keith and the Girl podcast live tonight, Friday October 13th, at midnight.
You can call in (midnight and after) to: 646-502-8682

* * * * *

If you're in the Albany area this weekend, I'll be performing.
I have to be a little better about promoting these shows, so please come check me out at

Saturday, October 14
The Brew Ha-Ha Comedy Showcase
Tess' Lark Tavern - Albany, NY - 8:30pm - $10
Tess' Lark Tavern
453 Madison Ave, Albany NY
(518) 463-9779

WITH:
Jesse Joyce
(as seen on Comedy Centrals 'Live at Gotham')

Liam McEneaney
(as seen on Comedy Centrals 'Premium Blend' and VH1's 'Best Week Ever')

A lot of people ask me, "Liam, you clearly don't know how to make a woman happy. What is the key to a long-lasting, healthy relationship?"

And my answer is always the same: Communication. You must never communicate. Because the second you actually listen to the other person, you're going to hear something that makes you angry.

My friends Steve and Jeannette are married, and I was over at their house watching a movie. I was sitting on the couch with Jeannette, and Steve came in from the kitchen where he'd been getting snacks.

He sat down on the couch, turned to his wife and said, "I forgot to get a beer. You don't mind getting up and getting me one, do you?"

And her mouth said, "I'm sorry?"
But her tone of voice said - something that made the dog run and hide behind the couch.

And Steve - a man smart enough to earn a PhD., turned to me and said, "Can she get you anything?"

And her face turned purple, and I've never seen this outside of a cartoon, but steam actually shot out of her ears.

And I said, "No thanks." Because she was levitating above her chair with the force of sheer rage.

And he said, "Don't worry, you don't have to tip her." And a painting across the room burst into flames.

And she turned to me and said, "Perhaps you should go." And on the word "should," I was out the door, shoes in hand, my coat over my arm. Because I didn't know what she was about to do, but I did know I wanted no part of it.

No one's seen Steve since the incident. I hope he's okay. What he did wasn't grounds for divorce, but it is apparently grounds for murder.

I told that story to a female friend of mine, and all I can say is, if Steve ever end up in divorce court, he better hope there isn't a woman on that jury. Because if that story comes up in divorce court, and a woman's on the jury, all you're going to hear is "Mm!" And that "Mmm!" is going to cost you half a year's salary, friend.

There's more to this, but you're going to have to come see me perform live somewhere. For instance, at Tell Your Friends!

* * * * *

MONDAY, OCT. 16th, 2006
at the Lolita Bar
226 Broome St., corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE

WITH:
CHRISTIAN FINNEGAN
has been seen on his own Comedy Central Presents half-hour special, he's your favorite commentator on VH1's "Best Week Ever," he was Chad The White Guy on Chappelle's Show's "Mad Real World Sketch," and he has an album coming out from Comedy Central Records next month called "Two For Flinching."

VICTOR VARNADO
from "Late Night w/ Conan O'Brien" and "Jimmy Kimmel Live," and the movies "Pluto Nash" and "End of Days," and recently wrote and directed a movie starring Charlie Murphy

LIAM McENEANEY
from Comedy Central's "Premium Blend," VH1's "Best Week Ever," and was a writer for Comedy Central's "Standup Nation w/ Greg Giraldo"

BECKY DONOHUE
was on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" and "Shorties Watchin' Shorties."

NICK STEVENS
from ESPN and 92.3 FREE FM

And our house band A Brief View of the Hudson!

Here's Victor performing on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend":



And here's Finnegan on "The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson":

I mean, how often am I going to get offered a free Mets playoff ticket? I guess what I'm saying is, if you can somehow get my hands on Mets playoff tickets, I'll let you be my friend. You're welcome!

By the way, before I get into it, here's a great mps you can download - Bob Dylan singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game (from his XM Satellite Radio Show - some guy from my Dylan Nerd Message Board mixed in the organ. Genius!).

* * * * *

The only thing better than watching the Mets sweep the LA Dodgers in the NLDS was to have it immediately follow the latest Biggest Yankees Debacle In History.

As soon as I watched the Yankees have their asses handed to them the third game in a row by the Detroit Tigers, I turned to the YES Network (Yankees Entertainment and Sports Network, for those outside of New York City), because if there's one thing I know, it's that Yankee ownership pretty much puts words in the mouths of Yankee announcers on that station. Last year there was a pretty (locally) famous stretch where Steinbrenner and his minions would have the same reporter in the postgame press conference with Joe Torre following every loss with some pretty pointed questions. It was ownership's way of sending a message to Torre that they were unhappy with his performance as manager.

So, turning to YES after the game was akin to the State Department at the height of the Cold War, reading Pravda every day trying to ascertain what was going on with Soviet high command through its official propaganda. And the first words out of the announcer's mouth as I turned on the station was, "Next year, Joe Torre - or whoever the manager is - will have to decide..."

So i was not surprised that Torre's job was in jeopardy (hell, this is George Steinbrenner we're talking about, no matter how old). But I was surprised at how tactlessly the whole situation has been handled, and with how little class. No matter how disappointing a job you think he's done, when a man takes your team into the postseason for over a decade and won you four World Series rings, he deserves better than leaking his job status to the press. I mean, thanks to the NY Post, I knew that Torre was going to keep his job before he did.

And make no mistake, this is big big news in New York City. As an example, Monday's NY Daily News decided that the most important story in the world that day was the fact that a sports columnist thought Joe Torre should be fired - it was a headline printed in 72-point type across the front page.

The second-most important story, in a small healdine squeezed onto the front page? "KOOK WITH NUKE." That's right, the fact that Kim Jon Il has a nuclear bomb is clearly ne-tenth as important as the Yankees' postseason shakeup.

I'd like to make a point here, by the way - I'm not rooting against the Yankees for the most part. I genuinely like Joe Torre - he's a classy guy who took a broken, battered team with more injuries than a VA hospital and one starting pitcher into the post-season. And even though Jeter's no longer the best shortstop in New York, he's not a bad guy, I assume. And A-Rod is such a flop and a head case that I really feel sorry for him.

Noo, it's the Yankee fans I'm rooting against. The ones who became "lifelong always rooted for the Yanks" fans sometime in 1995 when the Stadium became a home for winners gain, and not just a home for flying discarded AA batteries. The ones who can't settle for rooting for one of the most storied franchises in baseball history, but had to be actively rude and condescending about Mets fans at every chance they got, because it isn't enough to root for a winner, they have to bully the underdog.

And now we'l see who gets the last laugh. After all, this is the team with "the greatest lineup since Murderer's Row," which somehow remained nearly hitless for three games against Detroit. Not to mention a pitching staff whose ace is Randy Johnson, this year's Cy Old winner. Basically, in order for the Yanks to have won the World Series, they would have had to either have Wang pitch four games ina row, or have Rivera come in and pitch eight innings of relief every game.

Enough about that, though, because the Mets have a real shot at winning it all this year. A lot of people said they were out of it once Pedro and El Duque were sidelined by injuries. I didn't necessarily agree then or now; first of all, El Duque wasn't brought in to be the postseason ace. He was brought in to pitch five innings at the start of one out of five games because pitching injuries had literally forced the Mets to call up guys from Double-A ball.

And Pedro, well, I can see why my Red Sox fan friends love Pedro. But he hadn't pitched well since probably early June at the latest. Which means that as far as pitching goes, for the Mets it's Tom Glavine, the Remains of Steve Trachsel, and rookie John Maine, and then as deep a bullpen as you'll find in the major leagues. On the batting side, you have a staff that, were they playing for the Yankees, would be the best lineup since Murderer's Row. There's no reason for these guys not to tear through the Cardinals like Mo Vaughn tearing through a Fudgie the Whale cake.

Here's my accu-sports prediction - Mets v. Tigers in the World Series, Mets win that in, let's say, six games.

* * * * *

This is making the rounds of the Information Superhighway, but if you haven't seen it yet, here's David Bowie on the Ricky Gervais show Extras. Absolutely birlliant television:

This happened last Friday. I would've posted it yesterday, but I fell asleep two nights in a row in the middle of writing it. Here's hoping you do the same reading it!

In order to tell this story, I have to explain about the layout of my apartment. At first, I was nervous about revealing too many details about where I live, but I think it's okay; I live so far out in Queens, that stalkers aren't a problem. Hell, the people I invite out here don't want to make the trip, what would a stalker do?
I'd probably get a letter written in blood: "LIAM JESUS TOLD ME WE ARE MARRIED IN BLOOD AND WE ARE GOING TO LIVE TOGETHER FOREVER AFTER I CHOP YOUR FEET OFF. HEY WOULD YOU MIND DOING THIS OUT IN BROOKLYN? I DON'T FEEL LIKE TAKING THE TRAIN OUT THANKS."

So, I live on the fourth floor of my apartment building. The kitchen window is at a ninety-degree angle to the window of the small bedroom that I use as an office (don't be mad; I live alone in a two-bedroom apartment) and between the two is a fire escape; the fire escape railing points at, and leads into the wall outside of, the small bedroom window.

I was taking a shower Friday morning, and sometimes when I shower I leave the bathroom door open so that I can listen to my CD player. This fine day I had Tom Waits' Rain Dogs playing in the small bedroom. And halfway through Downtown Train, I started hearing a screeching, like a bird dying. It happened at regular intervals, on the beat of the song, so I assumed that the CD player - a cheap job bought at Target a couple years ago - was finally dying. But then the screeching got more emphatically animal, and at quicker intervals.

I got out of the shower and dressed and walked into the small bedroom. The CD player was behaving normally, but sitting on the fire escape outside the window, four stories up, where it definitely did not belong, was a big ol' squirrel. It was facing my window, screeching. So I paused the music and approached the window.

It didn't seem to notice me, so I did what anyone who is already a little bit crazy and maybe spends more time alone than he should would do; I talked back to it. Clearly, it had opened the lines of communication. I said, "Looks like you're lost, buddy."

At this it stared at me, cocked its head and raised a paw to its chest, as if to say, "Who, me?"
Then it screeched at me.

So I said, "Yeah, you. Now, I'd help you down, but you'd just bite the shit out of me."
It then cocked its head at me the other way, raised its other paw to its chest, as if to say, "Me? Bite you? Heavens!"
And it screeched at me again.

And I said, "Yes, you. Don't act all surprised.
It screeched at me. It looked terrified - I could see its tiny little squirrel heart beating in its chest. It was breathing really heavily. I'd never seen an animal have a panic attack - hell I'd never seen an animal have a heart attack, and I was afraid this would be my first. Instead it jumped backwards a foot.

We had a back-and-forth like this for a few minutes, until it calmed down a bit, and then faced the street that the fire escape overlooks, and screeched loudly, as if calling out dramatically to a lost love. It then ran face-first down the fire escape ladder, all four stories, climbed down the brick wall, and bounded to freedom across the grass beneath,

I was stymied by this squirrel's behaviour. That was way too high for a squirrel - it was the first I'd ever seen on that fire escape in my twenty-odd years on This Planet Earth,

Near as I can figure, there's three possible explanations:
1. There was some kind of bad trouble, and just lIke Lassie, the squirrel had come to warn me. If this is true, I'm not surprised it didn't work; I've always known that if I was the star of Lassie, Timmy would be a skeleton at the bottom of a well. I'm just no damn good at guessing games.

2. My parents declared a fatwa on squirrels at their house a few years ago, trapping them and driving them to a park many miles away so they wouldn't find their way back. Perhaps this squirrel was a relative, sending me a warning: "You send one of ours to Forest Park, we send one of yours to the morgue."
I fear that I'm going to see a delicious peanut butter sandwich in a cage on the street, walk in, and wake up in Macombe Dam Park with no idea how to get home.

3. It's mating season, and Tom Waits sounds like a squirrel in heat. Perhaps that squirrel planned to meet her on a downtown train.

* * * * *

If you're in New York City tonight, I'll be doing a charity fundraiser show. I don't know the whole lineup, but Letterman's Eddie Brill is on the show, so it should be good:

LAUGH for LAF Comedy Challenge fundraiser for the Lance Armstrong Foundation
Date: Tuesday Oct. 10th, 7 pm to 9 pm Location: The Cutting Room
19 W. 24th Street, between 6th Street and Broadway
$15 donation at the door

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Speaking of things that'll make you horny, here's one of my favorite Monty Python sketches ever. It's from the kinda patchy fourth season (John Cleese had left at that point to do Fawlty Towers), but this is a truly colossal accomplishment. Enjoy, "The Most Awful Family In Britain":

I want to be so rich that I have a lawyer whose sole job is to defend all of my other lawyers.

I want to be so rich that I can meet the President and say, “Let me speak to whoever’s in charge.”

I want to be so amazingly rich that my relatives throw a huge party the day I die.

I want to own a model railroad – that’s a full-sized railroad staffed entirely by models.

I want Bruce Springsteen to play at my birthday party. As a warm-up act for someone really big, like Jesus.

I want to be so rich that I get something named after me, like a library, or a stadium, or Paraguay.

I want to be so rich that my country place is Venezuela..

I want to be so wealthy that I can afford to live in Manhattan with only one roommate.

I want to be so rich that when you look up the word “rich” in the dictionary, you see my face. Not in the definition – I’m going to buy an ad on that page that says, “Get your greasy hands off of my word!”

I want to be so rich that women find me attractive.

I want to be so rich that when Billy Joel comes to Madison Square Garden, I can buy up all the tickets to his concert and go alone, so I can see the look on his face when he walks onstage and sees that only one person bothered to show up.

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Don't forget about Tell Your Friends! tonight in NYC.

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Here'san oddity: Leon Redbone on The ALF Show. Make sure you watch long enough to catch him duetting with ALF. By the way, more people will watch this clip on my blog than ever actually watched The ALF Show:

But when mom made pork chops, but she was so afraid of trichinosis that she would cook them until they looked, felt, and tasted like hockey pucks.

I swear, we didn’t eat the leftovers; we put them in the dishwasher and ate the next night’s dinner off of them.

She would also make casserole, despite the fact that no one on Earth likes casserole.

No one has ever said, “Forget eating at home – let’s go out for some casserole tonight.” Casserole is not a dish that appears on any menu in any restaurant.

Casserole, by the way, is a practical joke the French played on Americans. The word “casserole” means, “I bet you five bucks they’ll eat anything.”

I remember when I was a kid, and I was refusing to eat my mom's casserole, and she gave me the old, "There's lots of starving kids in Africe who'd love to eat that casserole."

So I decided to call her bluff, and I said, "Okay, let's send it to them."

And so she called my bluff, and said, "If we send the casserole to Africa, we're sending you with it."

And then I called her bluff and said, "Great. I want to go."

So I was taken in by the Mtumbe family of the Congo. They had seven kids, not one of whom would touch my mom's cassrole. So we sent it to a starving family in Detroit who sent it to this family in Indonesia, who were really happy to get it; they needed somethign to build a new house with.

* * * * *

MONDAY, OCT. 9th, 2006
at the Lolita Bar
226 Broome St., corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE

WITH:
BRIAN KILEY
is a writer for "Late Night w/ Conan O'Brien," and has been seen on his own "Comedy Central Presents" half-hour special, "The Tonight Show w/ Jay Leno," "Late Show w/ David Letterman," "Late Night w/ Conan O'Brien," and more.

TOM SHILLUE
has been seen on his own "Comedy Central Presents" half-hour special, "Late Night w/ Conan O'Brien," and a lot more.

RICK SHAPIRO
the Wild Man of Borneo of comedy. He's recently wrapped up a stint as a regular on the HBO series "Lucky Louie."

LIAM McENEANEY
from Comedy Central's "Premium Blend," VH1's "Best Week Ever," and was a writer for Comedy Central's "Standup Nation w/ Greg Giraldo"

HANNIBAL BURRESS
was at the Montreal Comedy Festival

And our house band A Brief View of the Hudson!

Here's Tom Shillue on "Premium Blend":

PART I:
As I was waiting for the R train at the 8th street stop tonight, I overheard an NYU student, Asian, discussing how much money he was getting from his parents (I swear I wasn't eavesdropping, the kid was talking pretty loudly). This is verbatim what he said:

"I asked for $6,000 a month, because I figured I could live on five thousand and save a thousand in the bank. But it didn't work out that way. I don't know where it all goes..."

He then talked about how he feels bad lying to his parents about his financial needs but what's he going to do? How he "only" has $3,000 in savings. Something about having to "withdraw from the fund." (At this point, I'd moved down the platform. Luckily, his voice got a bit louder, so I could still listen to him complain about only having more money than most people I know.)

I don't know how his monologue ended, because that's when the train came, and I had to throw him under it.

* * * * *

PART II:
On my way home in Queens, walking down my street, I fell in behind a young man, same age as the NYU kid, Hispanic, who was talking loudly and excitedly into his cell phone. Here's what he was saying: "Yo son, you want to go to the spot? I got mad money. No, I - you know how you got thirty-five dollars and it's not even food money and you can't go nowhere? I got crazy money - I got - I got over three hundred dollars, so I got to go to the spot. No, I sell uptown. I go to school - "

That's when I turned into my building and left him to walk on his merry way.

* * * * *

John Cleese kicks all kinds ass.

Here's his speech at fellow Python member Graham Chapman's funeral:



And here he is in 1988, introducing A Fish Called Wanda to an American audience:

And in an hour I went from, "I hope no one hits on me," to, "Why isn't anyone hitting on me??!? I'm pretty, dammit!"

* * * * * *

In this clip, David Cross is escorted from the stage dancing at a Jim Belushi concert (via A Special Thing). Me, I love everything and everyone in show-business:

I do my writing work in Starbucks a lot, because they have a tremendously relaxed corporate policy. I can just pay two dollars for a cup of coffee and stay for the next ten hours. They let me plug in my laptop, recharge my cell phone, plug in my refrigerator, drag in my bed and move in for six months.

Some people say they overcharge for coffee; I call it "paying rent on not being in my apartment."

Seriously, they serve food and i can still bring my own in. I've had dinner delivered to me at Starbucks. Sometimes I just say to the people who work there: "Hey guys, I'm going on a coffee run. Anyone want anything?"

But my point is, I work a lot in Starbucks, and which means I pee a lot in the bathroom at Starbucks. And the same thing happens when I wait in line for the bathroom: invariably, someone walks to the front of the line and rattles the doorknob, sees it's locked, turn to me, and say, "Hey, are you waiting for the bathroom?"

"No, I'm the Starbucks bouncer. All these people are trying to get into the VIP section."

Then they'll say, "Is there someone in there?"

"No, it's empty - this is an endurance challenge. If you walk into that empty bathroom, you're the biggest pussy here."

* * * * *

My friend Ritch Duncan found this great clip from a hockey game. Leafs player Tie Domi is in Philadelphia in the penalty box, and a Flyers fan who is harassing him falls into the penalty box. Forget soccer hooligans, Philadelphia has the meanest, craziest sports fans you'll ever see. Enjoy:

I was complaining to a friend of mine that it had been a really long time since I'd been booked to perform at a house party. Some times those shows go really well - I had once fallen in with this group in Greenpoint, five roommates whose apartment had a huge, huge living room, and they had an artsy variety show there. One of the roommates was dating a professional sous chef, and they served an elaborate 12-course meal to their guests. That was really nice.

Other times it went not so well - like the surprise birthday party for the 40 year-old ex-navy Seal. Call me Mr. Skeptical, but I didn't think that leading a former Navy Seal into a dark boat house upstate and having a room full of people jump out at him screaming was the world's best idea. I can't tell you what a room full of ex-Navy Seals finds funny, but I can tell you what a room full of ex-navy Seals doesn't find funny - my comedy.

The day after that conversation, I got an e-mail out of the blue from a guy I didn't know who had had my name passed on as a comedian who might perform at his birthday party. I asked how much he was looking to pay and where he was having the party. The second question was actually the more important to me, as I don't have a driver's license (although I took my first lesson last week. But that's another story), and thus traveling on the Greyhound to perform at a party, the idea was kind of a bummer. But he said he was willing to pay me (not an unimportant consideration - there seems to be a consensus among otherwise rational adults that comedians should be happy to perform for free - perhaps out of a civic obligation?), and it was in his Manhattan apartment living room. So I was being asked to perform at his house party where I wouldn't have to do any traveling. It was like the Liam McEneaney Comedy Perfect Storm.

Now, the first thing I noticed when I walked in was that this party was brightly-lit. It's something I should have expected - after all, I'd googled the guy thoroughly before saying yes, and I'd found that he was pretty much a real adult with a real business of his own going on (okay, it was a strange business, but A) he turned out to be a really nice guy and B) I'm a professional, and it's not in my nature to really stick it to someone who thought enough of me to pay me to perform). And this was a real adult party, which meant hor d'ouerves and folks' kids hanging out.

Okay, that weirded me out, because if there's one thing that really gets into my head, it's being able to watch the audience react (or not) to not only my jokes (after all, when I tell a punchline, I know how they're going to react), but to each and every single aspect of my performance.

Now - here's two points to keep in mind. The first is - the plan was to have the host's 14 year-old son's band perform before me.
The second is that, through a mundane series of non-Liam McEneaney-related events, Tim Robbins was at the party. There's very few actors that I can honestly say that I'm a huge fan of, but between Bob Roberts The Shawshank Redemption, and the The Hudsucker Proxy, Tim Robbins has done enough that I am. A huge fan. Of his. Sorry, this sentence has gotten away from me a little bit.

My point is, the nerves factor had just gone up a lot. Not only was I to be judged by a room full of strangers, but I was to be judged by someone whose work I really respected.

Okay. So the sons' band performed and they were great, a hit! Although I always find it funny when I hear very young people singing a song like the Beatles' "Money" - "Just give me money, that's what I want. Money don't get everything it's true, but what it don't get I can't use." because I always end up feeling like an old grouch, thinking, "These kids, they don't know yet what it's like to want money. Just wait until they're spending way too much money on a date with a woman they realize they don't even like. Grrrr, where's my Metamucil. THE NURSES ARE STEALING FROM ME!"

So the band performs, and Tim Robbins then takes a seat in an armchair pretty much behind where the band had performed, where I was to perform, and I thought, "Okay, Tim Robbins is not going to sit behind me when I do my comedy."

I should take a side note to explain that this was the classic New York intellectual party. In fact, if I was casting it as a scene in a movie, I would call extras casting and say, "Okay, we're looking for the kind of New Yorkers that people consider smart and cool. So maybe a couple of guys who look like Woody Allen, we'll need a Columbia professor type." And that's exactly what TR (let's call him "TR" to save me some carpal tunnel) looked like - like your college professor who had maybe figured out how to get his prettiest students to sleep with him.

So he's sitting in his armchair, looking like all he needs is a pipe and a stern expression as he asks me, "Mr. McEneaney, do you even read your papers before you submit them - before you write them?" That, by the way, almost a word-for-word quote. In my brief college tenure, I wasn't one for the little things like "spelling" or "grammar." I lived in a world of IDEAS and Laos GETTING SCHOOLWORK DONE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE SO I COULD DO THE IMPORTANT THINGS, LIKE OPEN MIC COMEDY. Like I said, my college tenure was noted more for its brevity than its quality.

Anyhoozle, then there was a time for the host's guests to take the mic and talk about how much they liked him. Which really threw into relief how nice it must be to have friends who actually like you. I am friends with comedians, by nature a bitter, jaded lot. I recently went to my friend's bachelor party, and there was a point where we all invited to take the mic and give a toast. It was all insincere ball-busting. Which was fine and appropriate for the event, but no on at this party would have taken to it at all. I'm just saying, genuine sincerity was nice, too - it was like watching the last five minutes of It's A Wonderful Life.

So that's going on and Tim Robbins is still there, and then a magician was called to the stage to do a magic trick, and Tim Robbins was still sitting behind the stage area. And I had that moment where I thought, "Oh, he's really not leaving, is he? He's going to sit behind me during my set and judge me, isn't he?"

Long story short - there I was, performing in a brightly-lit living room to a room full of real adults, all of whom were completely surprised that comedy was going on, with an actor whom I highly respected and whom I'd pretty much grown up watching in movies I really loved sitting right behind me.

So I addressed him right up top. I said, "Great, I've got Bob Roberts judging me here. I saw you at the Ralph Nader rally at Madison Square Garden in 2000. Its funny, back then I was like 'To hell with Al Gore!' And now all I can think is, 'Where the hell is Al Gore?'"

Then I called it the March of Dimebags, because it was. And I really was there, and I really did believe it was time to send a message to Washington, and boy was that message delivered. I think it's never a mistake to do what you think is right, but, um, that turned out to be a huge mistake.

But the point is, I ended up doing well, and feeling really good about my set. But it's a good thing that I'm not one of those sad show-business douchebags who says things like, "I opened for Damon Wayans, and then you find out that means that they both performed at the same little comedy club once before he was famous. Because that person would put in their bio something like, "performed with Tim Robbins." And then you have to have this conversation:

YOU: You performed with Tim Robbins.
THEM: Yeah, he was onstage with me.

YOU: What were you doing?
THEM: A monologue

YOU: And what was he doing?
THEM: Watching. But we were two feet away from each other.

Anyhow, it was great - got paid for doing comedy at a house party with someone famous. I want to do gigs like that every night.

* * * * *

SPEAKING OF A GREAT NIGHT OF COMEDY:

MONDAY, OCT. 2nd, 2006
at the Lolita Bar
226 Broome St., corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE

WITH:
JOE GARDEN
is a writer for The Onion.

KRISTEN SCHAAL
won the "Best Alternative Comedian" award at the Aspen Comedy Festival, and has been seen on Comedy Central's Live at Gotham and tons of commercials.

LIAM McENEANEY
from Comedy Central's "Premium Blend," VH1's "Best Week Ever," and was a writer for Comedy Central's "Standup Nation w/ Greg Giraldo"

LAURIE KILMARTIN
have appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend," "The World Stands Up," "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn," and ABC's "Jimmy Kimmel Live." She's written for "Tough Crowd" and "The Late Late Show w/ Craig Ferguson." She's about to have a baby in October.

And our house band A Brief View of the Hudson!

Here's Laurie Kilmartin's stand-up reel: