Jesus Responds to Rick Perry’s “Strong” Ad
Jesus Christ of Nazareth refutes GOP presidential candidate Rick Perry’s most recent campaign ad.
My friends:
This past summer, I had the great privilege of shooting a pilot for the History Channel’s new network H2, and I am excited to tell you it’s actually airing this weekend. It’s called How Many People Does It Take, and in it we meet all the people along the assembly lines of some of our favorite things (Maker’s Mark bourbon and Bicycle playing cards, for example). I’m really, honestly proud of it, and I think it’s the perfect way to end your Thanksgiving weekend: wear something with an elastic waistband, nuke a plate of leftovers, and let me entertain you.
Here’s the thing: this show is what we call a “backdoor pilot,” which means that if the ratings are good enough, they’ll make some more. So if you would be so kind, please spread the word. Reblog, set your DVRs, tell your parents. HMPDIT (which we called Humped It for short) was an absolute ball to make, and I would love to get the band back together and do this for a nice long time.
Many, many thanks. Happy Thanksgiving! Hump it.
I got a little weird on my paper towards the end of a 48 hour session. It’s for a course on Corporate Governance. Fun, right? Anyway writing about a takeover stole my mind away for a few minutes. This is the result. Read from the bottom up.
It didn’t take over on twitter, but my followers in this neck of the woods seem to be a little more internet/tv (<—- clues) savvy. So tell me:
When does the narwhal bacon?
AND/OR
What did one snowman say to the other snowman?
The questions are unrelated
?
Who doesn’t want a pillow with “a comforting arm that cradles and holds you”?
(Source: natashaleggero)
In the words of Mike D. and the Boys: “No…sleep…’til Brooklyn.”
Luckily I don’t have to travel all the way to Brooklyn, I just have to make it until the end of class today around 4.
I couldn’t be more relieved right now. I just got done hosting the local open mic for the first time. The good news? I didn’t die and it’s also the first time I’ve been payed for doing “comedy.” The club owner invited me back to host again next week. The bad news? I graduate in six weeks and I’ll be moving back to Chicago (where there are real comics) and it will be much harder to get stage time in rooms that aren’t the worst places ever. Believe it or not, South Bend, IN, is not a city with a thriving standup scene. But if I want to actually do anything with this being in a real city would help me to see if my dick jokes are any good. At least the smoking ban in Chicago will stop the front row from blowing smoke up my skirt.
Tonight is the first time I’m hosting the local open mic. I’m terrified. Kyle makes me feel better.
This is me, roughly two years into standup. I want to say the year is 2000 or 2001. I was about 24 years old.
Sometimes people ask my advice about comedy. I don’t have much to give. You just do comedy. That’s it. If you love it, you just keep doing it. You keep going to whatever shitty open mic you can because you can’t help yourself, because sitting at home means you’re not getting better at what you love. You keep writing lousy new material because lousy old material starts to bore the shit out of you. Because repeating your same three decent jokes at an open mic more than a few times feels like jerking off, like wasting the people’s time.
You fail in front of strangers, your friends, your family. You hear empty encouragement like “Hey, it takes a lot of guts to get up there” from people who don’t have the heart to be honest. “Who was that black/Mexican/Indian/magician/juggler/midget/fat guy/girl? Now that was funny.” Watch comics leave the room when your name is called—it’s the same feeling you had on the playground when someone yelled “Easy out!” as you took the plate. Get called a fag at your first paying gig before you even make it to the microphone. Drink too much before a TV showcase, and watch the booker walk out during your set.
I guess what I’m saying is standup, as a lifestyle, sucks. It’s designed to make you miserable. You can’t solve it, or graduate from it, or become branch manager. There’s no job placement program, no promotions. You just keep going and going because you’re sick about it. It’s not healthy. It’s not conducive to a relationship. It’s not profitable. It’s not reliable. But what else were you going to do?
(via rickycarmona)
Well, that was just incredible.
I’m in New York while my hometown of St. Louis is in the World Series, and I figured my internet friend Will Leitch might know where the STL expats were gathering, and BOY did he deliver. For the record: Foley’s on 33rd between 5th & 6th is where it’s at.
And listen: to say that I am a fairweather sports fan is an insult to fairweather sports fans. But I’ll be damned if tonight’s game- in that setting- didn’t make me love baseball. I cheered, I hugged strangers, I paid attention to stats. It was heaven. At the end of it, I honestly felt like I’d have to exit the place via inflatable slide.
But the highlight was meeting one of my favorite writers in person and liking him as much as I thought I would. I was getting an earful from some jackass who went to my high school, all boastful about how he’d forced the two Rangers fans out of the bar, and Will looked him right in the eye and said, “No. We’re better than that.” I have great taste in writers and great taste in people, and it gladdens my heart when they intersect.
Tomorrow I will be seeing Craig Finn & John Darnielle at City Winery, but the second that show ends, you’d better believe I’m heading uptown to be with my people.
Craig Finn, John Darnielle, and the World Series. Dave wins this week.
Allie is back, you guys. And honestly, this webcomic is the most accurate depiction of depression I’ve ever read. Welcome back, Allie!
