Eh. I really enjoy the TV show, and this movie was not as funny as some of the episodes of the TV show. There are definitely some excellent moments, but most of the humor on the show comes from the interaction between the cops. That seemed to be missing in the movie. It was more about some higher-budget set pieces which weren't as "improvised."
Also, I am probably getting too old, because I thought the nudity was entirely unnecessary.
Movie Review: Black Snake Moan
Now THIS is a movie. It's very rare to see a film without subtitles and walk away saying, "That was different."
Samuel Jackson plays an old blues musician/farmer whose wife done gone left him. Christina Ricci plays nymphomaniac white trash whose boyfriend just left for the Army. She goes out trampin', and someone beats her and leaves her lying on the road by his driveway. He decides to "cure" her of her wickedness ... by chaining her to his radiator. Before the movie ends, Samuel Jackson plays a blues song called "Bucket of Blood."
If you don't want to see this movie based on that description, we cannot be friends. I truly enjoyed it. It's over-the-top and redemptive without being arty or insincere; it has good acting all around; it has a song called BUCKET OF BLOOD. Go see this movie.
Also: Is Christina Ricci part cartoon? Her eyes are about 80 percent of her head. Combining her with Samuel Jackson, who does the best crazy eyes in the business, is like putting together an ocular all-star team.
Here's your batting order, 1-9, for the reigning Solarius Division champions:
1. Left Field: Cheetagrah Johnson. Addressing a lack of speed in 2006, the Smashers spent heavily on free agent Johnson. Johnson led the league in both infield hits (121) and stolen bases (214) two years running thanks to his start from the left-handed batters' box and his ability to transform instantly into a cheetah. Defense is still a question, given his insistence on playing the outfield as an armless quadruped; also, a reliable backup will be needed for night games near a full moon, when Johnson loses control of his powers and becomes a predatory killing machine.
2. Second Base: Nippon Ham Super Baseball Robo X. Last year's postseason breakdown should be forgotten, with the Smashers management finally agreeing to purchase a long-term extended warranty for the switch-hitter; the Japanese import will be moving runners over from the No. 2 slot every day in 2007. Expect a consistent performance in line with his 2004 (.400 BA, .400 OBP, 30 HR) and 2005 (.400/.400/30) seasons.
3. Center Field: Ograx Howard. Look for the right-handed Ograx Howard to have a breakout 2007 at the plate --- a .500 OBP and 200 runs are not out of the question, given his keen eye and discipline. Though traditionally a line-drive hitter, the Smashers are hoping for a spike in home runs, as he will have a hard time running the bases when his right head, Thograx, hits seventh.
4. First Base: Baron von Crush. Back for his fourth season with the Atom City Smashers, Crush appears to be in excellent physical condition and eager to prove that his injury woes off the offseason (gored by a triceratops while working on his Montana ranch) are behind him. A fan favorite for his stunning physique, striped singlets and dapper handlebar moustache, Crush will have a hard time matching his career-best 2006 numbers (.525 BA, .832 OBP, 126 HR, 236 RBI), as new league rules banning the use of oak trees as bats will reduce his plate coverage. He'll also be learning a new position: with his unicorn steed, Thelonius, retiring to the rainbow kingdom, Crush no longer has the mobility to play the outfield, though his 6'11" frame should make an inviting target at first base. He also has promised to stop "calling his shot" on every at bat, which should result in fewer fatal bench-clearing brawls.
5. Third Base: Mephisticus the Mighty. Allegations continue to swirl regarding Mephisticus' use of telekinesis to assist his sudden 2006 power surge (4 HR in 2005 to 94 HR). But a man who has not spoken a word since witnessing the death of his parents at the hands of an archdemon seems uniquely suited to avoid media distractions, and so he should continue to offer solid protection in the fifth spot for Baron von Crush.
6. Shortstop: Cindy Jenkins. Cindy is naturally beautiful yet blissfully unaware of the fact, making her sane, unlike most beautiful women. She does not put a premium on extensive conversations, instead intuiting how you feel based on your actions, and appreciating you for who you are. She is fiercely intelligent and constantly pushes you to learn new things, but not in a way that makes you feel inferior.
7. Right Field: Thograx Howard. A major liability at the plate and in the field. Often unable to see pitches clearly through his brother's head, Thograx led the Smashers in strikeouts (530) in 2006. Consistently out of position in the field, and while centerfielder Ograx Howard often helps out with highlight-reel diving catches in right-center, anything down the line is automatic extra bases. Expect "Off With His Head" chants to begin by early June.
8. Catcher: Guy Pearce. There's nothing he can't do.
9. Pitcher: Alternate Reality Chris White. Scientists have been unable to reopen a rift between dimensions, meaning that A.R. Chris White has been unable to return to the universe where, at age 10, he was NOT drilled in the face his first time at the plate in Little League. In that universe, Chris White was not scared of the ball, was actually able to hit, became a productive member of his teams and in college discovered his gift for throwing 12-6 curveballs, instead of trying to tune the Phillies in on AM radio by himself and inexplicably weeping every time they lost a West Coast game. A.R. Chris White was lights-out in 2006 (430 IP, 0.02 ERA, 937 K), and rumor has it he's bopping that Cindy Jenkins. What a guy!
Brothers and sisters, the pride is back! I finally had the chance to tape the CWC for February, so here it is. The subject is "Pet Names," as suggested by Steven White. To see challenges 1-9 (all from 2006) click right here.
Challenge 11 ACCEPTED
I'll regret this, but challenge #11 is ... Quadratic Equations, offered by Jennifer Dziura of New York City. The deadline is the end of March.
Send your suggestions along to chris@dcstandup.com!
I had to cancel DirecTV. A tree on the church lot next door, eager to prove the miracle of God's creation, had grown up to block my dish, and when spring arrives it ruins the signal. I was tempted to chop it down or set fire to the tree under cover of night, but it might fall into the church, and then for the rest of your days you're that guy who burned down a black church. "Look," you'd say, "I'm not THAT kind of church arsonist. I just did it so I could watch 'Mythbusters' and even then it was totally an accident." But people don't listen to logic. They just say "You burned down a black church." People are so judgmental that way.
So two weeks ago, during one of the weeklong periods where global warming OBVIOUSLY made it warm in February before it went down to 20 the next three days in a row, I canceled, thinking spring was around the corner. The next move: Comcast cable.
I made an appointment for Friday, "between 9 and 12." They need a three hour window, because if you install cable, you have no idea how many of your service calls will turn into pornos. The wiggle room is understandable. But ...
I needed to leave the house by 12:45 to get to work at 1. By 11:45, no cable guy was there, so I called to check on his status. I was told "20 minutes." By 12:30, still no cable guy, so I called again, and I was told, "you're next." But I had to leave, so I yelled at them and rescheduled for Monday afternoon. They gave me a $20 credit, because apparently my time is worth $6.67 / hour.
On Monday between 1 and 4, I waited. And waited. And waited. At 3:45 I called to find out where the cable guy might be. They said "You don't have an appointment." This was somewhat surprising, because I did in fact have an appointment, and it led to this excellent conversation with the highly trained customer service rep (HTCSR):
HTCSR: There's nothing in the computer.
Me: I have an appointment. You guys never came on Friday, so I got a credit and they rescheduled for Monday.
HTCSR: I'm not seeing anything in the computer.
Me: I definitely have an appointment today! I took off work!
HTCSR: There's nothing in the computer.
It was like a vaudeville act, only it ends with four blood vessels in my brain rupturing at the same time. After about five minutes, I convinced the lady to try and send someone out to the house ASAP. She said she'd check in with the service guys and someone would call me back in 15 minutes. It was my fault for not asking if she meant Earth minutes.
So, 50 Earth minutes later, I called back to speak to yet another HTCSR. This one informed me that there was no record of my earlier request for immediate service, and also that I actually had an appointment for Tuesday. Where did the Tuesday appointment come from? I don't know. I didn't make it, because I had work plans for Tuesday. It appeared from nowhere. I present this as evidence of a higher power. You're welcome.
[Fun side note: HTSCR 2 kept calling me ma'am. This happens. I have a voice that can be mistaken for a woman's on the phone, and my name is often misread as Christine. But after I corrected her, after two "sirs," she went back to ma'am. Classy.]
At this point, I was in "angry white guy" mode, which is about two notches below "finding a belltower." My exact words: "This is the second time that I have rearranged my work schedule to wait for you people, and I have nothing to show for it. What are you going to do to make this right?"
Her exact response: "I can't do anything." Now, I feel for HTCSRs. You have a hard job cleaning up after other people's mistakes, so you're getting yelled at for things you didn't do. But, it's your JOB. You should probably have a better answer ready to go than "I can't do anything." How about, "I am so sorry, this is unacceptable, I will put you through to a supervisor." Pass the buck. It's what great HTCSRs do.
After 10 more minutes of conversation, and a woman logging my three minute complaint, they set me up for Wednesday. The guys came to the house at 1:20 and had everything set up by 1:30. I have been advised that I can now call customer service and ask for appropriate remuneration.
I'm guessing I get one and a half days of free HBO. IT WAS ALL WORTH IT! "REAL SEX" is AWESOME!
There is no one on TV right now more entertaining than Klee Irwin. Go click through to see the photos. I'll wait ...[twiddling thumbs. Whistling "Shaft's Cab Ride."]
Klee looks like John Waters, if John Waters came from a trailer park and wanted to sell you stuff from his trunk. Klee sells stuff through the television ... namely pills. He has at least two infomercials on, one for herbal supplements which is only mediocre. But you must watch the "dual action cleanse" ad. Just so you know, when they say "cleanse," they mean "take massive, life-affirming dumps."
In it, Klee talks at great length about bowel movements, how much fecal matter you have in your body at any one time and how this fecal matter affects your health. He also talks a lot about his 4-year-old daughter's dumps, specifically in relation to his own.
And this is supposed to make you want to try dual action cleanse. You must watch this infomercial. You owe it to your colon. You owe it to Klee.
For extra credit, try to watch the "Almighty Cleanse" ad. Generally, I support Klee and I would not want you to take your business to one of his rivals. But on the "Almighty Cleanse" infomercial, relate the story of one lucky customer who, on invoking the power of the lord on behalf of his intestinal health, had a thick, black, rope-like bowel movement that he had to actually reach down and pull out with his hands.
Has anyone ever designed a robot for the specific purpose of dancing "the robot?" I think the technology is finally at the point where we can do this. Some grad student at Carnegie Mellon should immediately divert defense contract dollars to make this happen. There are limited practical applications but it would uplift humanity.
"300" tells the tale of the fine Spartan warriors who saved all of Western Civilization from centuries of bondage. I don't mean "bondage" in the sense of slavery or paying tribute to a foreign master. No, I mean bondage in the sense of wearing ball gags most of the day. The Persian army attempting to invade Greece in this movie is run by S&M freaks.
But the Greek city states already have their fetish (intense homoeroticism), and will not have a new fetish thrust upon them! So Sparta's King Leonidas takes his personal bodyguard to defend a narrow pass that the approaching Persian army must use. Even though they are outnumbered, 300 to 1,000,000, the pass allows the Spartans to focus on a few Persians at a time, so they have a fighting chance.
This is a decent action movie, but I am suffering from serious Green Screen Fatigue. I am no longer impressed by special effects. If you showed me this movie when I was 13 I probably would have died from sudden endorphin release. Now it just seems routine. Way to take the magic out of movies, Hollywood.
Some stuff to think about while you watch:
1. This is not a good date movie, unless you want your date to keep asking why your abs "don't look like that." Remember: you're not just paying $10 for a ticket. You're also going to end up shelling out $$$ for a gym membership and possibly some cosmetic surgery, such will be the blow to your self image. That's how they get you.
2. The overarching message: never trust a cripple.
3. Spartans love war and practice eugenics. The Spartans are Nazis.
4. Persians could not be dumber in this movie. The Spartans "build up a sea wall" to drive the Persian army into the pass they hope to defend. In the movie, this means that about 15 Spartans stack rocks and dead bodies for a few hours. The Persians have (allegedly) 1 million people, but they cannot undo this masterpiece of military engineering, and instead walk right into the trap.
5. There is no way there were 1 million Persians. Logistically that would be a nightmare; you could not supply such an army. The 1 million comes from Greek poets who wrote the histories. They were drunk.
6. If you showed all the slow-motion sequences from "300" at regular speed, the movie would be 42 minutes.
Look, if it were up to me, we'd be together. You're amazing. But it was 60 degrees the other day -- in early March! Earth is in the balance here, honey.
Last weekend at your place, I wanted to have sex with the lights out and go to sleep. You wanted to not have sex and instead sit in the living room with the lights on (carbon) running a space heater (carbon) and watching your favorite movie for the tenth time (television, DVD player, surround system, carbon carbon carbon) while eating microwaved (carbon) popcorn. We watched "Grease," thereby supporting John Travolta, whose big-budget movie sets produce a lot of carbon, and subsidizing his private jet (awful amounts of carbon), which I read about in your copy of People (which you have delivered, adding to the carbon footprint of the U.S. Postal Service).
It all would have been so endearing, if we hadn't killed a polar bear before the end of "Summer Lovin'." They don't love summer. Who speaks for them?
On Tuesday I wanted to enjoy locally purchased, affordable Subway sandwiches: in walking distance, made on fresh-baked non-delivered bread, chased with tap water. You insisted on The Melting Pot for fondue, which we drove to in your non-hybrid Aztec. We had expensive cheese (imported from foreign countries at great carbon costs) with your friends Linda and Jean, who wear enough makeup to keep a Revlon factory open by themselves (carbon). During dinner you planned a girls-only Bahamas weekend at the air-conditioned carbon factory known as Sandals, and never mind the extra carbon costs to any plane carrying Linda. You ordered imported wine ("just bring me something French and around $50"; see cheese note), and you insisted that I pay, thereby requiring me to work overtime on Wednesday. I am not wounded by missing the domestic draft specials at happy hour, but the planet weeps over three extra hours of electricity at my office.
These things are so bittersweet. It was an unforgettable night, and I felt very close to you as I sat silently on the edge of your conversation. But did you hear the gurgling sound? You probably thought it was Linda slurping down $23 of fontina. It was actually people in the low-lying coastal regions of Bangladesh drowning.
On Thursday you stayed over, insisted on turning up the heat (carbon), and again declined to have carbon-saving darkness sex. Instead, we cranked up the 'ol carbon box to watch a rerun of "Grey's Anatomy" which you had seen before, and even you have to admit was pretty much a stretch, because who would want to be with that psycho Meredith? (I know you identify with her, forgive me, I am fragile right now.) The next morning you took a shower first (understandable, it was 80 degrees my room), but used all of the hot water (carbon).
I enjoy an Earth-friendly cold shower, and I needed one. I am so happy to make sacrifices for you. But not if it means battering the Gulf Coast with category 5 hurricanes.
Please don't hate me. Hate the lobbies that prevent the building of nuclear power plants. Maybe if I could afford to weatherize my house, we could offset our time together. But looking for a higher-paying job would mean significant carbon costs that I cannot abide. I know you will also understand that, to eliminate the carbon footprint of a) moving my stuff out of your place and b) using a computer to set up a Match.com account, I am going to start dating your roommate. If you come home to a dark living room next week please remember the lights are off for a reason.
We've all had those days: work piles up, appointments loom, family pulls you one way, friends pull you another. At the end of it all, you just throw up your hands and say, "geez, I wish I had 140 slaves to help me with all this stuff!"
Well Thomas Jefferson DID! And history has never been the same. Jefferson was born in 1743, not far from where Monticello sits. He inherited 5,000 acres, a bunch of slaves and pretty decent social standing from his folks; went to William & Mary, read law, served in the House of Burgesses (for the EVIL British); when the Continental Congress rolled around he had gained some renown as a thinker and was asked to help write the Declaration of Independence. From there things really steamrolled: Virginia House of Delegates, Governor of Virginia, U.S. Minister to France, first secretary of state, second vice president, third president.
And somewhere in there he also managed to be a farmer, inventor, architect,
archaeologist, university founder, and author. Speaking to 49 Nobel Prize winners, John F. Kennedy said: "I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered at the White House - with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone."
Of course, when Thomas Jefferson dined alone, he was eating food prepared by servants and he didn't have to do dishes. That's the enigma of so many of our founding fathers: how much of their greatness was actual greatness, and how much was circumstance?
You or I might do great things if we were born into money and privilege, in a less-populated country with far more opportunity, freed from the daily chores that consume so much of our waking hours, and most important, in a world without television. (I would be a senator if not for time spent on "My Two Dads.") Pondering the nature of freedom and governance is a luxury, not unlike Cristal, or Hummer limos. By the same token, as a farmer, Jefferson experimented with hundreds of fruits and vegetables, taking detailed notes on all his yields and developing a new kind of plow. But it's easier to be a brilliant and prolific farmer when you don't have to actually FARM. Staffing out the grunt work to your unpaid employees really frees up your day, y'know?
On the other hand, opportunity does not, by itself, equal greatness. History is filled with millions born to similar lots who did nothing. (I'm looking at you, Paris Hilton.) Thomas Jefferson was by any standard a genius, and a motivated one. Free to live a life of almost total leisure, he instead chose to shape the future of humanity. He took impassioned steps to make his beliefs into reality, and damned if he didn't succeed on most counts.
Sadly, you won't be able to have these yin-yang discussions with the staff at Monticello (I visited Sunday), because they're mostly busy herding you from room to room before the next tour group shows up. It's a shame, because Jefferson's is probably the coolest of all the presidential homes: he designed it himself, and almost every detail of the estate in some way reflects aspects of his character and philosophy. There's a ridiculous amount of information on the man (he saved copies of all 20,000 letters he wrote in his lifetime), but all you really get from a trip to Albemarle County is factoids, a few quotes and some cute stories. Of course if you're not me, you don't really care what the choice of ceiling board in the dining room says about Jefferson's undying faith in meritocracy, so by all means plan a visit. You'll love it. I guess I can go read a book on Jefferson to scratch my itch.
Who am I kidding, I'll just watch "My Two Dads" on DVD instead. But enough of this, on to ... FUN JEFFERSON FACTS!
Jefferson was married once, to the widower Martha Wayles Skelton in 1772. They had six kids, only two of whom lived to adulthood. Martha died in 1782, and Jefferson never remarried ... though he did make time (and babies) with Sally Hemmings, one of his slaves at Monticello. Jefferson had acquired Hemmings in his marriage to Martha; she was actually Martha's half-sister, as Jefferson's father-in-law (also a plantation owner) fathered her right before he died in 1773. And you think your family traditions are weird.
Jefferson called slavery a "stain" on the nation, but he owned 140 slaves and freed only seven, mostly because it's the job of the help to get stains out.
History's most famous redhead ... FOR NOW.
Among Jefferson's inventions at Monticello are the gravity-powered clock, the wine dumbwaiter, and the XJ-4000 Annihilo-Ray, which really came in handy during that whole Barbary Pirate thing.
TJ used a lithograph to make simultaneous copies of all his letters, which is why we have detailed records of "Things I Want Sally to Pick Up at the Cheese Shop."
A prolific collector of books, Jefferson sold his collection to the government to start the Library of Congress. Congress was horrified months later to realize that most of the collection was erotic romance novels.
Jefferson founded the University of Virginia in nearby Charlottesville as a way of promoting a meritocratic society, and also as a great way to hang out around hot co-eds.
TJ designed the foyer of Monticello as a museum, partly to entertain guests but mostly to soak up admission fees and gift shop receipts.
The original draft of the Declaration of Independence described the rights to "life, liberty and rocking hard."
As president, he would often greet White House visitors while wearing a dressing gown and slippers. His decision to wear a "F*** the King" t-shirt to a state dinner in 1808 led directly to the War of 1812.
Oversaw the Louisiana Purchase, which doubled the size of America. Also tried to auction off New Jersey, but there were no takers.
Jefferson Was good friends with James Madison, who lived 30 miles away and would often spend weeks at Monticello. He was slightly less friendly with James Monroe, who lived 2 miles away and kept on borrowing his lawnmower without asking.
Jefferson wrote his own epitaph for his Monticello grave and specifically left out any mention of the presidency, due to his firm belief that it was all a dream!
Died on July 4, 1826, the same day as John Adams, making it the best day in recorded history for presidential death pools.
On Saturday I visited the happiest place on Earth: SOUTH OF THE BORDER! In this day and age, no one would have the balls to build an entire rest stop around an ethnic stereotype, let alone splash that ethnic sterotype on billboards 400 miles up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Yet South of the Border has persevered for 57 years. God bless America.
It's great P.R. for South Carolina: the first things you see as you cross the state line are a "dirty old man" shop, fireworks stores, a t-shirt shop, ethnic steretypes galore and about four hot dog stands. I cannot express how much I love South of the Border. I am not kidding. It makes Wall Drug look like a Rite Aid. I am planning to move here as soon as possible.
If you stop in, I recommend the chili dog with "cheez"; it is exquisite. Also be sure to stop by Pedro's Coffe Shop, which despite its name is actually a dirty souvenir shop. After a tough 15 minutes of comparative shopping I grabbed a magnet and a tiny "Pedro" doll. This was not an easy decision, as there were also "risque" towels (including one with an invitation to join the "intercourse club" printed on the front), oversized pencils, about 40 different items that had the word "Oriental" in the description, those beach shirts with bikini-clad bodies airbrushed on the front, 364 different kinds of shot glasses, novelty hats, novelty sunglasses, $2 backscratchers, "Kung Fu" drums, numerous earthenware Pedros (perfect for the Hummel cabinet), Pedro coloring books (for the stereotype-loving tyke), keychains, placemats, flatware, playing cards, dice, bumper stickers, and water pistols. Sad to say, I didn't really get past the front of the store, so who knows what I missed. I'm pretty sure S.O.B. is responsible for about 22 percent of China's GDP.
Offered without comment: No Mexican-Americans seemed to be working at the shops I visited.
Blarney
Happy St. Patrick's Day. March 17 is, incidentally, now THE WORST DAY to go an Irish bar. Huge cover, huge crowds, crappy music ... you'll have a hard time getting more than one round an hour, if that.
Celebrate the true Irish way: In Ireland, pubs close early. Right around nine, head home and drink alone. It's about the heritage.
I Speak to America's Black People
I will grant that: a) I can never understand the inherent hardships of being African-American; b) it's foolish to address an entire racial group as a single likeminded unit; and c) there are some horrible, racist white people in this country. That being said:
For the love of god, stop voting for people like Ray Nagin. He's not helping.
In 2000, an American military type person in Seoul orders toxic chemicals to be dumped into the Han river. This allegedly causes mutations, allowing an innocent tadpole a mere six years later to grow to 50 feet, have a prehensile tail, develop a five-tiered serrated mouth and acquire a taste for human blood.
And so I ask you sir, who is the real monster? The giant mutant tadpole that eats people, or America?
"The Host" is mostly about a family trying to fight the system and get back their little granddaughter/daughter/niece, who has been abducted by the tadpole and stored in its "fresh meat" locker. (It "stores" people by swallowing them, then regurgitating them out whole when it gets home. Hopefully they are trying to work this into a "Host" themed amusement park ride.) The system isn't cooperating, because a) it's the system, and b) supposedly the monster is carrying some kind of super-virus, putting areas around the river and sewers on lockdown. The family don't care about that ... they just want their girl back, even if it means wandering through the sewers with shotguns to find her.
I enjoyed this movie, in that it pays actual attention to the characters, and it also has a gigantic blood-hungry mutant. Those are two things I look for in a movie, but most are missing at least one of those elements. It's not the best movie ever made, but it is a genre-buster -- more personal than most American-style monster flicks, with some pretty good humor and drama mixed in as well. Also, excellent special effects.
There is plenty of room for a sequel, even though it's never entirely clear if there are more mutant tadpoles around. I'd actually assume that there aren't, because it explains the frenzy: what would you do if you were doomed to a life without sexual reproduction?
You'd move to the sewers and start killing indiscriminately. Obviously.
The ship of democracy,
which has weathered all storms,
may sink through the mutiny of those on board.
(grover cleveland -- 19th century a.d.)
Near New York City
From a world devoid of pity
In a land called Caldwell, New Jersey
Was born a son
To a minister presbyteri-an
And his name was Stephen
At the age of four
His clan did move up north
As a young man he dabbled in politics
By the Lake Erie
In 1881 A.D.
He utterly became the mayor of Buffalo
Grover Cleveland
His name gave strength to countrymen
Grover Cleveland
Born a simple New Jerseyan
Through great acclaim
Of the goodness of his name
He soon became the statewide governor
Across the barren wastes
He brought his armies to face
The opponents of civil service reform
In '84, he was almost undone
By tales of a bastard son
But no bastard could destroy the conqueror
Stephen inflicted pain
On James G. Blaine of Maine
And so became the 22nd president
Grover Cleveland
He liked to fish and drink much beer
Grover Cleveland
His name makes angels shake with fear
The vorpal veto pen
Flashed time and time again
And so was slain much questionable legislation
But Harrison, a fork-tongued foe
A Republican sustained by tariff woes
Took by force the White House from him, despite losing the popular vote
With vengeance in his heart
Cleveland offered retort
In 1892 he hoped to vanquish Harrison
The blood-drenched media campaign
Traded on his family name
Including his daughter Baby Ruth, which many people believe is the origin of the name of the popular candy bar
Grover Cleveland
His nephews called him "Uncle Jumbo"
Grover Cleveland
He thought women's suffrage was dumbo
[14 minute guitar solo]
Maching on marching on
[23 minute guitar solo, Eddie appears on a cross of silver]
The hoary beast of economic depression attacked
The golden standard was splashed with grime
And so, though restored to the Potomac throne
Nothing much happened in his second term
But even so, he was president twice
Not to mention that at the age of 49
He married a 21-year-old
So you have to respect that, am I right fellas?
Grover Cleveland
He was never a big fan of the media
Grover Cleveland
He died of a heart attack in Princeton, New Jersey
Seriously ...
If anyone wants to help me record this, get in touch.
On Thursday I was in New York City (you may have heard of it, it's one of the cuter garden spots of the Northeast) auditioning for LCS 5: The Final Frontier. Ordinarily I am against any comedy competition, especially the ones I enter and do not win. But I gotta say, I had a good time. This is either a sign of my personal growth or the start of a nervous breakdown. Either way, the future is looking up!
I had a scheduled audition, so I didn't have to sleep on the sidewalk to get a good spot in the "cattle call." This was very important, because I feel that sleeping on the sidewalk is undignified, unless you are buying tickets to a Styx concert. I am not at all like cattle, except for my nose ring and four-chambered stomach. I am all about dignity, and anyone who has ever seen me tell my world famous joke about labial piercings will confirm this.
The audtion (at Gotham Comedy Club) was 2 minutes in front of the LCS judges: Kathleen Madigan, Alonzo Bodden, and Ant. Kathleen Madigan is very nice; I've met and worked with her before. I do not really know much about Ant, but I can tell you that in person, Alonzo Bodden is 13 feet tall. It's like someone put a regular sized human on a copier and enlarged them to 130 percent.
Anyhow: I distilled my entire personality and outlook on life into 120 seconds for the judges. Kathleen liked it, Alonzo said I needed more seasoning. Fair enough. Ant was on the fence, so they actually let me go to overtime. This was very tough, because where am I going to magically get 15 more years of life experience to write another minute of jokes? Fortunately, I have a few lies about parental dysfunction in my back pocket at all times, so I squeaked through to the evening showcase. Lying: is there any door it can't open?
[I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, because I may have signed a non-disclosure agreement at some point. I am honestly not sure: I filled out a lot of paperwork yesterday, so much that, after page 50, I stopped reading the headings and just started signing anything that looked like a blank line. I have no idea what forms I was actually filling out; for all I know, if Bill Bellamy needs a kidney, I might now be on the hook.]
I got back to the club around 6:30 with my 31 fellow finalists. We were put in a downstairs lounge, where we all hung out. You are probably thinking, "31 comedians in the same room? That must be hilarious, not unlike a primate house or anime convention!" Ordinarily, you would be an idiot. Usually if you get more than five comedians in a contest greenroom, one acts like a normal person, one goes into "always on" mode (telling a joke every sentence), two will try to intimidate you by talking about how great they are, and the last one broods in a "Son of Sam" kind of way. It's usually excruciating.
On Thursday it was fun. People were relaxed and friendly. It was an interesting combo of pretty successful people with TV exposure (Arj Barker, Laurie Kilmartin, Wali Collins, etc.) and relative unknowns (me, etc.). There were pros with a decade of experience, there were people who had been performing for six months. There were a few stuck-up New York comics, but even more genuinely pleasant New York comics and out-of-towners. I got to catch up with a few friends (Keith Alberstadt, Costaki Economopolous, Matt Kazam) that I hadn't seen in a while, and I got to trade stupid hiking stories with a new face (Andrew Martinez). We weren't allowed to watch the show, so no one was too stressed about the goings on upstairs. It was a good time.
As for the show, I went up 28th (the sweet spot, for those not in the know), this time for THREE minutes of glory in front of a live crowd. It went great, in that I did not pit out my shirt with NBC camera crews rolling, and also people laughed. Usually after a contest you're always kicking yourself over what you should have done. I regret nothing. I had a plan; I stuck to it. People laughed. That's comedy.
When I got off stage, Bill Bellamy (he's the emcee for season 5) interviewed me in the lobby. He said I looked smart and asked me for help with his taxes. I'm guessing it will end up on the editing room floor -- not because it wasn't funny, but because I tend to wash out on camera, and it would look strange if Bill Bellamy were interviewing a banshee on national TV.
The producers picked 10 people for the next round of auditions (I think they're in Los Angeles, it's a sleepy little town west of the Rockies), and I didn't make it -- not all that surprising, considering the general abundance of white male dorks on television these days. But I look at the other 20 "losers," and I'm shocked at the talent level. It's an honor to have my dreams crushed alongside those folks.
HAH! I am kidding. All our dreams were crushed long ago.
Anyhow, if I'm lucky, some footage of me will make it through to an early episode this summer, so that I can proudly join the roughly 10,321 comedians who list "Last Comic Standing" on their resume ("I was on camera for 3/10 of a second during a crowd shot! I was the guy in the Chewbacca costume!"). If I'm really lucky, the 50 people in front of me will fail their background checks, thereby clearing the path to Hollywood. Clean living is going to pay off one day. THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.
Seriously, thanks to the many fine people who made this opportunity possibly. Rare are the experiences that make me want to work harder, but this was one of them. God (and network excutives) willing, next year I'll be blazing a trail all the way to JUST BELOW THE TOP! Whoooooooooo!
Mysteries of the Big Apple
New York smells like wet garbage. I walked around Chelsea for four hours on Thursday, and every block smelled like someone had peed on a damp cardboard box. To be fair, on one block, someone actually was peeing on a damp cardboard box, but I don't think that one guy was enough to explain a 15-block funk radius.
If you walk around Manhattan you're going to pass under construction scaffolding every few blocks. There will always be water dripping down from the scaffolding, even when it is not raining. Where does this water come from? I do not know. I do not want to know.
People move to New York for the excitement, though living in New York is so expensive that you usually can't afford the things that make New York exciting, unless you count watching disassociative street people screaming at no one as "excitiement."
Encyclopedia Brown could explain these things. Can you?
Billy Packer is an Idiot
If someone showed Billy Packer a 10-minute video of a man beheading a woman with a hacksaw, but the man was a friend of Billy Packer, he would actually deny that the beheading took place, at least judging from that angle.
This is a fine movie about an immigrant couple from Calcutta who move to the New York area and whose American-born children learn to connect with the family's personal history and cultural roots. It stars one of the guys who went to White Castle.
I think it is an excellent date movie, but I may be biased, as I am dating an Indian-American girl from the New York area with immigrant parents. And also, I went to White Castle once. It's like the producers made this movie with the sole purpose of me getting to make out.
Neat stuff.
Bowling for Dolores
I went bowling over the weekend -- if you want the alleged "details," you can read about it at Jared Stern's blog. He will tell you that he "dominated," but he fails to mention that I was severely weakened by mono and also that earlier in the day, I had lost three fingers on my bowling hand in a tragic pina colada accident. (Don't worry, they all fell into the pina colada, where they were frozen until they could be reattached Monday morning. Modern medicine is great.) If you don't want to bother with all of Jared's lies, here's the short version: Jared Stern gets so worked up over owning a stuffed bunny rabbit (the "prize" for beating a cripple with mono) that it adds 20 points to his astonishing bowling average of 34.
But on to the REAL excitement from the night: we bowled two games, and each one, we had a stuffed animal "prize" on the line. We got the stuffed animals from one of those claw machines in the bowling alley arcade.
Ordinarily that translates to "I spent $320 in quarters to win a $0.34 stuffed animal," but we had Maegan on our side. Maegan is a DC-area professional whose "Heroes" power is ... uh, well, getting prizes from arcade claw machines. She played a total of five times and won two prizes. THIS IS NOT THEORETICALLY POSSIBLE, because the machines are rigged, but I saw it with my own eyes. I did not see any mirrors or elaborate fishing-line rigs that would account for this. There are monks on top of Chinese mountaintops playing the claw game 5,000 times a day for 10 years straight who cannot do as well as Maegan. The only logical possibilities are: a) a deal with the devil; b) magic.
I feel like you could probably make a living off of this, going from arcade to arcade in the summer, hanging out by the machines and waiting for some parent to walk by with a whiny kid. "Daddy, win me that stuffed horse!" Suddenly, a stranger steps out of the shadows. "Sir, you could spend $20 trying to win that yourself. Or you can give me $10 and I'll get it within one minute." You'll have some overhead (travel expenses, the cost of the disguises you'll need once arcades start posting your photo) but on a good summer night I'm guessing you could clear $500.
In October 1912, campaigning for the presidency in Milwaukee, Teddy Roosevelt got shot by an anarchist. The bullet was slowed down by his overcoat, a copy of the speech he was about to give, and a glasses case in his pocket, but it lodged in his chest.
If I were shot by an anarchist ... I'd immediately take the rest of the day off. I don't care if there's a conference call at 3. I'm going home, and honestly, I might take tomorrow off as a "me" day.
Teddy Roosevelt ... stopped the crowd from lynching his shooter, declined medical attention (the bullet was in him for the rest of his life) and decided to go ahead and speak for the next hour. Over the rest of that day, he set the world record for push-ups, boxed all comers (including a kangaroo) in a driving rain storm and then wrote a 500-page history of the day's events. He was THE MAN.
You can see the shirt, glasses case and speech (all with bullet holes) on display at the Roosevelt birthplace in lower Manhattan (20th St., which in the 1860s was the suburbs). The building isn't original, but it's a pretty close recreation, right down to the small Starbucks in the basement. A few of the rooms have been converted to gallery space but the tour takes you through the parlor, the dining room and a few of the bedrooms. TR lived there until the age of 14, at which point the neighborhood was starting to go to crap (dirty Irish immigrants and whatnot) and the family moved to 57th St. (which in the 1870s was a lot like "Land of the Lost").
But the formative years of our most dynamic and fun-loving president were spent right there on 20th St. (and on world tours, and at their summer home, and swimming in the Roosevelt money bin). We generally think of TR as a pretty robust dude, but he was born a mewling asthmatic -- he had to earn his toughness. His dad put in a home gym just off his bedroom, and with only 5 minutes a day, three days a week on a Soloflex, he could rip phone books in half one-handed. Why did the Roosevelts have a phone book and a Soloflex machine before the invention of the phone or Soloflex? THAT'S HOW RICH THEY WERE.
According to the park ranger, Roosevelt's life was mostly an effort to impress his loaded philanthropist dad, who died when TR was 19. Even as president of the United States, he never felt he quite lived up to that example. So, dad: if you're wondering why I'm not motivated to become the leader of the free world, it's your fault a) for not being obscenely rich and b) not dying when I was a teenager. Way to deprive the country.
But we all know what you came to hear ... FUN ROOSEVELT FACTS!
Forced into the job by McKinley's assassination before winning election twice, Roosevelt still stands as America's youngest president (42).
In 1884 TR was crippled by depression when his mother and wife died on the same day. He dealt with it by moving to North Dakota and becoming a cattle rancher, although he later admitted that it would have been a better career move to just drink a lot.
The first American to win a Nobel Prize, for negotiating the 1905 peace between Japan and Russia. And neither country ever fought a war ever again. The end.
Went to Africa in 1909 with the hopes of negotiating a human-lion peace treaty, to no avail.
The term "teddy bears" comes from Roosevelt, derived from the team of four grizzlies that pulled his presidential chariot.
A noted historian, Roosevelt's most enduring work was published in 1914: "The List of Names I Took After Kicking the Asses of People With Said Names, Vol. 1."
Served as police commissioner of New York City (1895) and would often patrol the streets himself, which explains the mysterious spike in fisticuff-related police brutality in 1895.
Assistant Secretary of the Navy Roosevelt assumed full control for an afternoon when the secretary went to a doctor's appointment. He immediately put the fleet on full alert worldwide, in anticipation of the Spanish-American war. BALLS. Later he quit his navy job to form the volunteer "Rough Riders" cavalry regiment, which saw action in Cuba during the war. In case you hadn't noticed, Dionel M. Aviles, there's a war on. Time to mount up.
Loved hunting and vastly expanded the national park service and wildlife preserves in the hopes of shooting a lot of animals in his retirement.
Negotiated the creation of the Panama Canal, mostly because Cape Horn was too cold to swim around in the winter months.
Having run unsuccessfully in 1912 (he split the Republican vote with Taft and thereby allowed Woodrow Wilson to become president), he retreated to Brazil with his son and mapped a 625-mile uncharted river. So take your slide show and shove it, Gore.
I have 34 HBOs in my hotel. I watched 4 movies in their entirety today, because I've never had bed sores and they sound neat.
Silent Movie: I love Mel Brooks but I haven't seen this in about 18 years. Cute and borderline inspired at times.
Return of the Jedi: This was the updated late '90s version, in which George Lucas began experimenting with the best way to ruin a great film franchise, as witnessed by the updated songs in Jabba's palace and the removal of the Ewok "jub jub" celebration song. (Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You're not better than me.) It was also the movie that made me realize crappy rubber costumes are about a billion times better than CGI. I have to stop watching movies like this as an adult, because all I could think about was how easily the empire should have won this thing. You have to have your **** together to take over an entire galaxy. How does that focus disappear? One "shoot to kill" order and you've taken out Han Solo, Princess Leia and Chewbacca. At that point all you have to do is defend a fortified bunker against rock-throwing Ewoks. Bang, you just crushed the alliance. Sad.
Date Movie: I cannot express how awful this movie is. It's like a collection of horrible YouTube videos stitched together. Everyone involved should pool their financial resources to destroy every existing copy and then pay for counseling for anyone who's seen it.
Serenity: Decent scifi, though it's not entirely clear how the bloodthirsty, cannibalistic and obviously insane Reavers could manage to maintain and operate starships. I've tried driving a car with cannibalistic bloodlust; it's almost impossible. I gotta think space ships are more complicated.
It's spring haircut time, so we're at the crossroads:
Astro Boy: The default hairstlye of the last seven years. Combed forward with a vertical crest (aka "The Statue of Liberty") at the front; requires hair gel, brushing and mild blow-drying. Originally chosen because I thought it looked good on my brother, this style offers a youthful look but is thoroughly incompatible with hats. During hot summer months, perspiration also causes gel residue to run down my scalp, which is great if I need to stick memos on my forehead, but unfortunate at all other times.
Marine Minus Muscles: I occasionally get my hair so short that people mistake me for a marine who somehow got around the physical fitness requirements. This requires no blowdrying, no gel and no comb. It is very cool in the summer months and it reduces the overall volume of my head, so that I can wear hats. The big drawback: it makes my head look significantly smaller, which thereby makes the rest of my body seem bloated in proportion.
Hollywood Dirtbag: For the last month I've been experimenting with the "I want you to think that I don't comb my hair at all, even though it's obvious that I am superficial and obsess over my appearance" look. Requires gel, but no blowdrying or combs needed (fingers only). One of the most portable hairstyles, but also the most likely to get me punched in the face by a stranger. Depending on who you are, this may or may not be a good thing.
The Hang 10: True Chris aficionados are aware that I used to comb my hair in a tremendous curl. It was Conan-style, only before Conan and with less of a part ... the overall effect was like a perfect red bubble. I could pull my hair down to the tip of my nose, but is was combed in a very big left-to-right wave across my head. This requires mousse, blowdrying, a small-diameter circular hairbrush and moxy, as many people, spurned by jealousy, have told me that the Hang 10 is "riduculous" or "clown-like."
Fascist Youth: This is the current haircut being worn by my younger brother, whom I now consider a test labratory for my potential hairstyles. It features short hair with a side part and absolutely no curl, not unlike the youthful, bright-eyed Nazi lieutenant in any number of Hollywood movies. Gel will be required, as will combing, but blowdrying seems optional. I recently dabbled with a modified version of this hairstyle, and friends said it looked "very young Republican." Again, depending on who you are, this may or may not be a good thing.
The Honus Wagner: Parted in the middle, with the option of scroll-like curls on either side of the head. This is intriguing, in that no one has this hairstyle anymore, but dangerous, in that I cannot grow the handlebar moustache and muttonchops that would really sell this look.
So what's it gonna be? Send your vote to chris@dcstandup.com.
Legal Stuff: If you have questions about this Web site, why? You should spend your time questioning the moral nature of any god who would let Chris White exist. But anyhow ... copyright 2009, Chris White Sucks Inc.
And somewhere in there he also managed to be a farmer, inventor, architect,
archaeologist, university founder, and author. Speaking to 49 Nobel Prize winners, John F. Kennedy said: "I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered at the White House - with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone."
You can see the shirt, glasses case and speech (all with bullet holes) on display at the 
Astro Boy: The default hairstlye of the last seven years. Combed forward with a vertical crest (aka "The Statue of Liberty") at the front; requires hair gel, brushing and mild blow-drying. Originally chosen because I thought it looked good on my brother, this style offers a youthful look but is thoroughly incompatible with hats. During hot summer months, perspiration also causes gel residue to run down my scalp, which is great if I need to stick memos on my forehead, but unfortunate at all other times.
Hollywood Dirtbag: For the last month I've been experimenting with the "I want you to think that I don't comb my hair at all, even though it's obvious that I am superficial and obsess over my appearance" look. Requires gel, but no blowdrying or combs needed (fingers only). One of the most portable hairstyles, but also the most likely to get me punched in the face by a stranger. Depending on who you are, this may or may not be a good thing.
The Honus Wagner: Parted in the middle, with the option of scroll-like curls on either side of the head. This is intriguing, in that no one has this hairstyle anymore, but dangerous, in that I cannot grow the handlebar moustache and muttonchops that would really sell this look.
August 2009: Jefferson.
Fall 2009: comic interviews on the podcast. 
