It's crunch time, folks! My show at the Improv Lounge is this Saturday at 8 p.m. You can get your tickets at the Improv site or you can stop in and buy directly from their box office.
Here's what you're getting for your $10:
The Chris White Trivia Challenge. Questions, and possibly answers to those questions, and then some prizes.
Video a la carte. A selection of short films, some of which are mildly humorous. Twelve minutes.
I Take Requests. A combination of "greatest hits" stand-up and assorted "challenge" jokes, as performed by Mr. Chris White. With a side of gorgonzola-infused mashed potatoes. Forty-five or so minutes.
The 15th Challenge. A mysterious and potentially disastrous finale by Mr. Chris White, never before performed for a live audience, certain to be memorable although not necessarily in a good way. Five minutes.
I put a lot of work into this show, and I really do believe it'll be a good time for all. I hope to see you on Saturday!
Thanks to everyone who came out to "I Take Requests 2" on Saturday night. There were lots of new faces in the crowd and I really hope everyone had a good time.
Some highlights:
Canadians! A father-son team from Alberta was in town on the son's spring break, and after a day of museum hopping they opted to take in the show. I talked with them a little beforehand and I have to say, like most Canadians (with the exception of Snidely Whiplash) they were very pleasant. I am now billing myself as an international superstar. You guys are my reference.
Birthdays! Two birthday parties were there -- Sam and Monique. For Monique, it was (the night before) her 21st birthday and her first ever trip to a comedy show. I spent my 21st birthday having my first ever drink (a margarita) at a Mexican restaurant in a strip mall. That was fun, but I'm hoping this was a slight improvement over my 21st. Congratulations!
A giant inflatable phallus! There was a bachelorette party in attendance, and I had been warned in advance that the bride-to-be would be toting around an inflatable penis. Now, I have seen inflatable penises before, and in my general experience they tend to be about the length of a grown man's arm. This inflatable penis was taller than me. They should have had to buy it a ticket. Initially, it was stashed in the back of the room. But as a special treat to the bachelorettes, I had prepared a karaoke video ("My Girl") and forced the bride to get on stage and sing. At that point, she insisted on having the penis onstage with her, so now there's a photo in someone's camera with me and Stef flanking a giant inflatable penis. I really don't want to analyze this incident more than necessary, but I do want to point out that I've chosen a line of work where I now have more than one story involving an inflatable penis. What a great industry.
Trivia! This time out I ran the trivia part of the show as a bar trivia night (I read the questions outloud instead of giving them to everyone as a handout), and I tried to make the questions easier. However, the high score (out of 15 possible points) was 8. I need to make the questions easier. But I'm also going to post them below for those of you who want to play the home version of our game.
Videos! Last time out I did a video package to open the show. This time it was a similar package -- some of the great short videos that I've done with Jared Stern in the past, plus two newer efforts that Chris Wright helped me with. You can see the "Frozen Rock Creamery" commercial, which Chris wrote, on tomorrow's blog.
FLASHDANCE! The "15th Challenge" was me singing "What a Feeling," to a music video that I shot and edited specifically for this show. The video features me, uh, flashdancing, and I might put it online later in the week. I was really worried about this, since I am generally not a great singer in public, but the crowd seemed to love it, and more than a few people sang along.
I also collected suggestions for new rounds of the Chris White Challenge ... including gastroenterology, Belgians, Jesuits, Pat Benetar, and "Zoo books," whatever that means. I plan on taking one of these suggestions and hammering it out the rest of the month.
Thanks to the Improv, and again to everyone in the crowd, for a really fun night. I definitely plan on doing this again in a few months, and you can read all about it right here when it happens.
The Chris White Trivia Challenge II
Here it is, the quiz that crushed the hopes of about 60 people on Saturday night. The max score is 17 (15 regular questions plus two bonuses).
1. Phil Collins has been nominated for three Oscars and won one (the same as Humphrey Bogart). One nomination was for the song "Two Hearts," from a movie that starred Phil Collins. Name that movie.
2. Of the following famous people, which one does NOT have their own fragrance: Paris Hilton, Derek Jeter, Paula Abdul, Donald Trump, Oprah Winfrey, Carlos Santana, Spider-Man.
3. What kind of animal killed Timothy Treadwell in 2003?
4. A famous movie car has the vanity plates "OUTATIME." What kind of car is it?
5. True or false: Your hair and fingernails continue to grow after you die.
6. In 1974, women finally became eligible to receive the prestigious Silver Beaver Award from what national organization?
7. In the Simpsons episode "The Last Temptation of Homer," Homer's guardian angel appears to him as Isaac Newton. Homer didn't know who Newton was, so the angel transformed into what sitcom character? BONUS: in that episode, who was the voice of redheaded vixen Mindy Simmons?
8. The Ampallang, Cleopatra, Dydoe and Frenum are piercings made to what part of the body?
9. If you suffer from bromhidrosis, there's a good chance you're doing this quiz by yourself. What is the more common term for this condition?
10. In Bill Cosby's first ever network TV appearance on Jack Paar's show, he did a now-famous routine about a carpenter -- who was that carpenter?
11. Phil Bronstein was attacked in 2001 by a komodo dragon in the Los Angeles zoo. He was inside the animal's cage, on a visit arranged by his famous wife. What is the name of the komodo dragon? Just kidding -- who was Phil's wife?
12. Jonathan Swift, ever the helpful drunk, suggested a unique course of action to end famine in Ireland. What was it?
13. When he wasn't busy putting Japanese Americans in camps, Franklin Roosevelt had a really cute dog named Fala. What breed was Fala? BONUS: What was Fala's full name?
14. If you're sunbathing topless on a ziggurat in Ur, what country are you in?
15. According to singer/songwriter/actor/drunk Tom Waits, what's the hardest kind of algebra?
In my continuing effort to be the best 19th century man that I can be, I went waltzing on Sunday at Glen Echo Park. If you've never been to the park, it's like a super community center converted from an old abandoned art-deco amusement park, so the overall effect is that you're in an episode of Scooby-Doo but with more arts and crafts. I'm not saying that I plan on serial killing any time in the near future, but if I were, Glen Echo Park would be on the short list for my possible base of operations.
We were in the Spanish Ballroom, but the dancing wasn't strictly ballroom -- no box steps, no Strauss. Nor was it swing kids, in that I did not use any dance moves to fight Nazis. Think more "old people in beadazzled shirts." And a really good live band. REALLY good.
It was a lot of fun, and it's something you can do at home. Here are the basics, which I gleaned in the 30-minute lesson before the fury:
The man is in charge. The man determines where to dance, what moves to do, what the woman should wear, who the woman can look at, whether the woman can work or must be a stay-at-home mother, and whether the woman must stand to the side and watch while he dance with numerous younger women just to teach her a lesson. If any collisions occur on the dance floor, it is the man's imperative to defend the woman's honor, or, alternatively, he can simply blame the collision on the woman and straighten her out later, back at home.
Posture counts. The man puts his right arm under the woman's left arm, with his palm resting just below her shoulder blades and his fingers on the other side of her spine, also known as the "one-handed bra-unhooking position." The woman puts her left hand on the man's right shoulder. The free hands are clasped, or, if so desired, can be used to grope your partner, depending on whether it's a cool waltzing club or not. There should be some space between the bodies, to allow for movement, but not so much space that a better looking man could pick his spot, slot in and start grinding with your lady. If you are concerned about this happening, you can also use your free hand to hold a switchblade.
Keep moving. With every beat you should be moving generally forward, and at no point should you skip a beat with your feet. This is because most waltzers are very old, and if you stop moving forward, the Reaper will catch you.
Women are backward. The woman almost always moves backward, leaning into the man's palm, which is much harder than moving forward. The woman also should not be paid more than 60 percent of what the man is making, even if she has a better job. If this is the case then you need to be shunning that woman.
Lead! The man indicates where he wants the woman to move with pressure from his right hand, and also by subtle glances, kicking the woman's instep repeatedly, and verbal hints such as "turn, god dam you, why won't your turn, it's a simple dance, can't you do anything right, this is why the kids treat us like s**t and is it too much to ask to have a four-course meal waiting on the table when I get home from banging my mistress each night?"
I really recommend waltzing, if only for the humility that comes from watching an 80-year-old man in shorts, pulled-up tube socks and two knee braces move more quickly, gracefully and in rhythym than you can.
Sweatin' to the Oldies
Some people were dressed up for waltzing. Some people were not. In the not category was a heavy-set middle-aged man (and an excellent waltzer) wearing shorts, a tight T-shirt tucked into those shorts, and a Clyde Drexler-style red headband. After about 20 minutes of sweaty dancing (everyone was sweating, you're moving constantly), he went to the side of the room, TOOK OFF HIS SHIRT in front of all kinds of genteel ladies and gentlemen (revealing a thick carpet of hair on both his stomach and back), went into his bag, produced another T-shirt, put it on, tucked it in, and resumed dancing. In the 90 minutes we were there, we saw this man go through at least five shirts. So he's definitely done this before.
There has GOT to be a better way, right? Someone please back me up on this.
This commerical was featured at the beginning of "I Take Requests 2," and it was written by Chris Wright.
Chris White Trivia Challenge Answers!
You probably used the Internet and cheated, but here are the answers from Monday's quiz:
1) Buster. 2) Oprah Winfrey. 3) A grizzly bear (he was "Grizzly Man"). 4) Delorean (Back to the Future is the movie). 5) False. 6) The Boy Scouts of America. 7) Colonel Klink (the bonus question: Michelle Pfieffer). 8) The penis. 9) Body Odor. 10) Noah. 11) Sharon Stone. 12) Eating children. 13) Scottish terrier (the bonus question: Murray the Outlaw of Falahill). 14) Iraq. 15) Chinese algebra.
Here it is, the grand finale, or "15th Challenge," from "I Take Requests 2." It's pretty straightforward. If you have sensitive ears, please be warned, I do drop one F-bomb in here toward the end (I got carried away by the moment, my apologies).
Challenge ACCEPTED: Gastroenterology
This challenge comes from Debra Raden, who works at the AGA Institute and apparently can't get enough of that at the office. Debra was in attendance at "I Take Requests 2" on April 5. I'll try to have this done by April 28.
I've actually had a recent trip to the gastroenterologist, so this could be fun.
I'm at the Funny Bone this week with the very entertaining Larry Reeb. Come see the shows -- two tonight, two tomorrow. You won't be sorry.
Movie Review: Planet B-Boy
Here's what you get for being one of the best breakdancers in the world:
1) A pay-your-own-way trip to a small city in Germany!
2) Sleeping on mattresses, 10 to a room, in the classrooms of an empty high school in said small German city!
3) A chance to compete for $3,000 in prize money in front of 8,500 people, slightly more than you would see at a Florida Marlins game!
I know -- $3,000? That's way too much! But don't worry; that $3,000 pool is split over a few different awards, and then of course you'd have to split your take across the 43 other people in your dance crew. So the money won't change you TOO much.
I learned this all watching "Planet B-Boy," an interesting infomercial for breakdancing which highlights the nefarious dealings of some German guy who organizes the "Battle of the Year." Basically, crews worldwide struggle in relative poverty for the chance to go to B.O.Y., for if they win, they get to ... uh ... star in South Korean tourism ads. Fame isn't really an outcome, at least not in the United States; for some reason, this documentary was about the 2005 B.O.Y. and it wasn't like the suspense of who won was ruined. You never heard of any of these guys. I have a feeling the German organizer dude is cleaning up on this, because he has some very styled hair, and also he is German. You can't trust those dudes in any kind of international forum. There's probably some B-roll footage of that guy lighting a Cuban cigar with the confetti Europeans call money, then driving away in his Mercedes with two hookers in the passenger seat. Here's hoping that's a DVD extra.
The movie follows five crews -- two from South Korea, one from Japan, one from France and one from America -- on the road to Battle of the Year. You learn a tiny amount about the dancers from each crew (with a particular focus on one Japanese guy and one South Korean guy who have big daddy issues, which you can't be much of an artist without). Mostly though you hear guys talk about expressing their individuality through the dance, followed by footage of them doing dance moves that all basically look the same. That's the one problem with breakdancing; for all the eye-popping skill that these dudes have, after a few minutes you get sort of numb to it.
There's not too much of the dark side of breakdancing, since showing people with no health insurance who crippled themselves trying to do a headspin in a shopping mall food court would be a bit of a downer. There's also not too much on what these guys do once they inevitably have to slow down. There aren't that many jobs as breakdancing instructors. So the next time you see a guy at Jiffy Lube with a limp ...
There is a little bit on the history of breakdancing, and guess what? "Flashdance" was monumentally important in the growth of the artform. No, really.
Anyhow, I'm still going to recommend this movie, because a lot of the dancing is neat. But if you don't want to go, just watch this YouTube video instead. It's the Japanese team's routine from the first round, which according the movie is considered one of the best team routines ever done -- this is creative enough that it breaks through the monotony of non-stop power moves. The two circles of guys on the floor represent turntables.
International Hatefest
One nice thing about "Planet B-Boy" is that it reminds us that international hatred isn't directed only at America. (Sorry, liberal blogosphere.) The upstart South Korean team, when asked who they would want to face in the finals, chooses Japan -- because oh yeah, THEY HATE EACH OTHER.
The Phillies had a phenomenal win over the Astros tonight, scoring four in the bottom of the ninth to steal a 4-3 victory and almost give me a brain hemmorhage. And it all started with a home run from former National CHRIS SNELLING.
Chris Snelling is an Australian. Have you ever met an Australian who was a jerk? Who wasn't fun to talk to? Who didn't seem like he'd be up for drinking some beers when then rest of your friends were complaining that they have to work the next day?
You haven't. And if such an Australian DID exist, the other Australians would probably get drunk and beat the crap out of them. Because Australians rule.
I finally saved up the money to get a roll of film developed. And EVERYBODY WINS!
Ford Museum
First up, some arty shots from my trip to Grand Rapids, Michigan. Here's a close-up of the sign on the Ford Museum, and then some odd tree bark I spotted nearby. Weird.
The Mattress Factory
On Saturday my favorite older brother and I went to The Mattress Factory, Pittsburgh's outpost for installation art.
With installation art you get some really cool stuff, like the house poem shown to the right, and James Turrell's eye-bending light-based works. Who the hell knows what it means, but a floating red cube made of light is AWESOME, and I want one.
But you also get works from Black Moth Super Rainbow, a Pennsylvania-based "experimental" band whose members are named, really, Father Hummingbird and The Seven Fields of Aphelion. If you had to guess who would have the stranger piece of art based on name alone, you'd have to say The Seven Fields of Aphelion, right? Nope! He (she? it?) had a cool display of double-exposed photographs. Father Hummingbird, on the other hand, created a naked doll with a huge phallus constantly urinating into a McDonald's cup, to demonstrate his "love/hate relationship with biochemically-enhanced foods." Obviously.
The Mattress Factory is called that because ... well, it used to be a mattress factory. Here's a view of the exterior, and then the Pittsburgh skyline from one of the outdoor landings.
The Best Park in Baseball
I haven't been to every stadium, but I gotta think there's a strong argument for PNC Park being the best: the cheapest tickets, some of the best food, phenomenal views, incredible in-game presentation (scoreboard graphics, pierogi races, great game hosts and actual funny games). The one drawback is that the Pirates play there, although on Sunday they took it to the Reds, 9-1, with a whole bunch of bombs landing not far from our seats in the left field bleachers. Sweet. Here's the approach to PNC, and a young fan watching the game (the weather was horrible, hence all the empty seats).
Mo Rocca (who I have been amused by on occasion) did not seem to do that well at the Radio and Television Correspondents Dinner. I don't really know his history peforming in front of a live audience, but he just seemed flustered the whole time, and not in an affected way. He had months to prepare and a lot of the jokes were almost stock observations you could have pulled off of any snarky blog. Some of it isn't his fault -- the video/slide problems he had were inexcusable. How on earth do you pay a guy thousands of dollars to perform for 2,000 people, including the vice president, and then not have someone from the AV club running the projector? Sheesh.
But almost every crowd shot I saw (I watched the replay on Fox) showed people decidely not laughing (maybe the sound pickup on the crowd was bad, but Rocca's pacing seemed to indicate that people really weren't laughing much). This is in part because people don't like to be made fun of by an outsider. Especially journalists, who make a living thinking they're smarter than other people (I am one, I know). It's one thing if politicians, who have a working relationship with the press, take potshots, but if a comedian does it, the group closes ranks. It's happened a few times at that dinner. The audience is a really strange one and you have to work it pretty carefully.
Cheney actually wasn't bad -- I was surprised at how edgy some of the stuff was; he (or his writers) went right after both Democratic candidates and he had a few self-depricating moments as well. He got a few groans with some of the more offensive stuff and just plowed right through. I guess that's the fun of knowing you don't have to, or CAN'T, impress your audience, since they basically hate your guts from the word go.
And Romney's top 10 list, for as much as that guy weirds me out, was excellent.
Anyway, the whole thing was overshadowed by the Democratic debate and the pope, so it wasn't even a blip on the media radar today. Craig Ferguson gets the stenographers ... er, the White House Correspondents Dinner, so it'll be interesting to see what he comes up with ...
The other day, I'm at the Captials / Flyers game in Washington (the Capitals won 3-2, they totally outplayed Philly for the first 30 minutes and held on for the last 30). One row in front of me was a couple wearing Flyers jerseys, being as well-behaved as you can possibly be in an arena crammed with Caps fans. They were cheering when the Flyers did something good, and when they cheered, they cheered it was only to express their happiness for the Flyers, to no one in particular. Next to them was a couple in Capitals jerseys. The guy had about six beers over the course of the game and looked like a significant part of his disposable income went to hockey tickets. When the Capitals scored, instead of cheering for the Captials, he immediately leaned over to the Flyers fans and shouted, "YOU SUCK."
What, WHAT, is going on in that man's life that he gets genuine satisfaction, not from cheering for his team, not from seeing his team win, but from telling a total stranger that he sucks because he cheers for another team? (And I'm not giving all Flyers fans a pass, they can be pretty awful along these lines.) How crappy is your day-to-day existence that that's how you feel better about yourself? Do you work in a puppy-killing plant? Sure, you might hit your wife if the Captials blow a 3rd-period lead, but at least you don't cheer another team.
Out on the sidewalk after the game, a guy in a Redskins jersey almost got into a fistfight with a guy in an Eagles jersey (both were really drunk). The Redskins fan, as the Eagles guy was being pulled away by friends, shouted "Let's see your [Super Bowl] rings!" Because, you see, the Eagles have never won the Super Bowl. But then again, NEITHER HAS THE DRUNK GUY IN THE REDSKINS JERSEY. If he owns a Super Bowl ring, he bought it on eBay, stole it from a player, or made one in his garage.
It's just great that sports teams have priced normal middle-class people out of games, turning arenas over to pathetic drunks with nothing else going on in their lives and disinterested rich people who don't even really care if they use the ticket. Fantastic how if you had a family, you couldn't afford to take them, and even if you could they'd probably have to deal with a bunch of a-holes who have no respect for their fellow human beings. And Thundersticks are ruining American fandom! Ruining it! Plus, $7.50 for a draft beer that you could by 12 of in the store? REALLY? When I was a kid we didn't need video clips to tell us when to cheer, all we needed was a Wurlitzer organ and a man in a top hat dancing on the sideline and we would cheer for hours! Sometimes we wouldn't even bother to shell our peanuts! We'd just eat them whole! When we finally get Taft back in the White House, all this mess will finally end! GRANDPA NEEDS HIS MEDICI ... GURK! GurglWrafzsezzzzzz ..... zzzzz ....
You can't always judge a man by his final resting place, but in the case of Grover Cleveland ...
It's usually not too tough to find a presidential grave -- there are signs, or a flag pole, or a tasteful neon sign, or a corridor lined with chanting, torch-bearing druids. Princeton Cemetery didn't have any of these things, and after looking for Grover for about ten minutes, we set off toward an impressive looking obelisk across the way. En route, I just happened to take a glance to the left, and there he was:
The only man to be two presidents has a worn, beaten marker that doesn't even mention he was president. All it says: Born in Caldwell, died in Princeton. Not even a mention of his real first name (Stephen).
He's flanked by his wife, Frances, and a daughter (the famous Baby Ruth, as you can see below if you squint), each with headstones even more faded than his. Someone, for some reason, had hung some pukka shell necklaces on the side of his marker.
From what I've read, the whole setup matches the man -- he valued his privacy, didn't stand on pomp, and really cared about his family; you have to figure he was proud of what he'd accomplished politically, but so much of it must have seemed beyond his own doing (it all happened so fast) that he might have taken it all with a grain of salt.
One of the kicks of seeing these graves is how different they manage to be. McKinley followed Cleveland in office and wasn't significantly more important from a historical perspective. But he has a tomb overlooking Canton that has to one of the more massive grave markers in North America. Grover's grave is as worn down as any random marker you'd find in your local churchyard.
Over the weekend I attended my first Passover seder. Since the full-blown ritual is hours long, my hosts graciously condensed the proceedings to an outsider-friendly five minutes.
There were many solemn moments over those five minutes, including the phrase, "no thanks, I had bitter root for lunch." It was all capped by the reading of the ten plagues, and then a first-born male child observing out loud, "So wait, we have to sit through nine plagues, and THEN we get killed?"
Then we ate a lot. A WHOLE lot. Any fundamentalist Muslim armies hoping to wipe Israel off the map would be well-advised to strike about an hour after seder, since most of the country is probably just sitting there groaning and wondering how the family kicked three bottles of Manischewitz.
Shalom food coma!
Grave Situations
Grover Cleveland isn't the only high-profile stiff in Princeton Cemetery.
Pictured left is the grave of the great Aaron Burr, who in addition to serving as our nation's third vice president, had the proud distinction of shooting and killing our first secretary of the Treasury.
Hard to say which of those you'd list first on your resume. Dueling was sort of on the way out as the 19th century arrived, but Burr still managed to get one in under the wire when Alexander Hamilton continued repeated character attacks on Burr.
And for the record, it's the same Aaron Burr who once talked James Monroe out of having a duel with ... Alexander Hamilton. Apparently, Alexander Hamilton was a bit of a d***. (He's buried in Manhattan.)
History is awesome, and I fully support the return of public dueling to rectify all public character assaults, especially among sitting members of Congress. If nothing else, a duel to the death could really tighten up the Democratic primary races, and who doesn't want that?
And if that weren't enough, famous comedian John Witherspoon is buried at Princeton. Say it isn't so, Pops!
Of course you do! Nothing too funy here, so feel free to skip this.
The Democrats' Real Problem
Many old people are Democrats. Old people can be, generationally, racist and sexist.
Who votes? Old people. When the general election rolls around, who's left for old racists and sexists to vote for?
John McCain. Because at least he's old.
Deny! Deny! Deny!
If Barack Obama is transcendent, once-in-a-lifetime leader, then how come he hasn't crushed Hillary Clinton like a bug? He outspent her something like three-to-one in Pennsylvania and lost by ten points. Every new poll seems to say that no one likes Hillary, that no one thinks she's trustworthy ... and she's running just slightly behind a man sent from heaven to heal all of America's woes. She even crushes him in certain demographics. Huh.
Obama himself complains that he's having to deal now with character attacks and "distractions." But if he became president, his whole "change" platform would rely somewhat heavily on personality. He wouldn't be trading on legislative skill, a past body of work, or (it would seem) a huge electoral mandate. So his personality is 100 percent fair game.
Even if (as is likely) Obama ends up with more delegates, he's not going to be "legit" to a lot of people because Florida and Michigan, the fourth- and eighth-largest states, aren't allowed to seat delegates at the Democratic convention. And why aren't they allowed to seat delegates? Because they moved up their primaries without party permission. And why did they move up their primaries? Because Democrats in general were hoping for a shorter, front-loaded nominating process, and those states didn't want to be left out.
If the Republicans were represented by, say, The Phillies, this would be like watching the Mets and Braves play a 24-inning scoreless tie with LOTS of season-ending injuries.
Keep kicking the tires, America! It's entertaining.
The pride is back! "I Take Requests" returns to the DC Improv Lounge on Saturday, July 12.
By that time, I hope to have three more challenges done, plus some new videos and maybe a new grand finale -- remember, the show changes a little bit every time you see it.
And I'm also looking for places outside of the Improv Lounge to perform this show -- if it's coming to your neighborhood, you can read about it here.
In our nation's capital today, right around noon, 200 trucks circled the Mall, horns blaring the whole way. I drove by it. They were loud.
They did this to protest high gas prices.
Yes, 200 trucks drove, in circles, idling at any number of stop lights, to protest high gas prices. And they honked their horns for attention, in case you were doing something frivolous like enjoying a museum and wanted to see something you can't see every day -- like people wasting many, many gallons of gas, to protest high gas prices.
Sometimes I feel guilty for living in Washington, because we get all kinds of free museums and top-notch cultural events, paid for with tax dollars. And then I go by 200 trucks circling the mall, and I remember: this is the trade-off. We're even, America.
DEMOCRACY!
According to the linked story above, the truckers wanted a cap on gas prices. My favorite quote: "If they're not willing to do something, we need to get them out of office and get someone in who can get something done," Mark Kirsch, a rally organizer, said at a news conference.
I'm not sure what the "something" is supposed to be, since we don't have a communist economic system, oil prices are set in a global marketplace and we're not the only country in the world that buys it. I also enjoy how many people are convinced that we muck around in the Middle East only to secure our oil supply, but when the market makes gas expensive, they complain we aren't doing enough. What's the deal, truckers? Do we invade Iran or not?
Democracy has been great and all, but maybe it's time to look into tyrannical rule by robot overlords.
Last Saturday I headed to the National Arboretum to see the azaleas in bloom, because they are pretty, and also because I am sort of gay.
Not many people go to the National Arboretum, because it is in a "bad" part of town, far from the subway, and also because it's mostly trees. Here's what you're missing:
If you're a guy and you found these pictures enjoyable, congratulations! You are also sort of gay. Don't worry, the ladies love that in a man.
Karaoke Gantlet Fest Challenge 2008: This Time It's Personal
You may recall that I entered a karaoke murder-suicide pact for 2008, in which I
must sing eight total songs. Four are chosen by me, and four are chosen by my
"opponent," Allyson. I put that word in quotes, first because there is no prize for
winning, and second because at this point I'm obliterating her, as though I were the
1980 Philadelphia Phillies and she were the 1980 Lansdowne Boys Club "Johnson's
Funeral Home" team, and the slaughter rule had been waived. I'm about two songs away
from kidnapping all of her women and then plowing the fields with salt for
spite.
SMACK!
The box score so far:
1) At Steve's Bar Room
in January, before a Sunday-night crowd with New Yorker levels of indifference
(could you stop beating your girlfriend in the middle of the sidewalk? I'm walkin'
here!), I made it through "Beverly Hills" by Weezer (my choice). Allyson got three
lines into "I Love Rock and Roll" (her choice) by Joan Jett before her will to live
had been sapped. She finished the song, though. It was agreed by all that Steve's
Bar Room is a cursed place where music goes to die.
2) At "I Take Requests" in early
April, I take a surprising 2 songs to 1 lead by performing the Oscar-winning
"What a Feeling" by Irene Cara (Allyson's choice). It is generally agreed by all in
attendance that this might be the best karaoke performance (by me) in recorded
history.
3) At The Meeting Place (downtown DC) last Friday, I perform a
stunning rendition of "It's the Same Old Song" by the Four Tops (my choice). I win
over part of the mostly black crowd by telling them that I am too white to sing a
Motown song by myself, and that I will need their help. I am joined in my
performance by the (excellent) karaoke host and one of the regulars, who do backup
vocals and dance. Though they do not count toward the pact, in the spirit of the
evening, and because Miller Lites were $3, I also participate in group versions of
"Rapper's Delight" and "Papa Was a Rolling Stone." Allyson follows up with the
best-enunciated version ever of "Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News (my
choice). She does an admirable job. It is widely agreed that The Meeting Place is a
very good spot for both karaoke (nice crowd, great host) and $3 Miller Lites, and
that there will be a return visit.
Most important, the song list at the Meeting Place has both "Fantasy" by Mariah
Carey (my choice for Allyson) and "Every Beat of My Heart" by Taylor Dane (her
choice for me), two of the songs we fear the most.
Chris: Five songs remaining (two personal choices, three Allyson choices)
Allyson: Six songs remaining (three personal choices, three Chris choices)
Peronal lessons learned so far: 1) No matter how well you sing in the car, it
will not be the same voice when you are in front of a crowd. 2) Getting the crowd
involved helps. 3) Miller Lite helps. 4) Allyson has excellent diction, and because
of this I should force her to sing more rock songs, because it is funny.
Yes We (Are In the) Can
The people at "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" are so in the tank for
Obama that it's getting painful during some segments.
The thing is, they probably don't see it that way at all. As you get invested
you get in a particular worldview, your ideas of what's rational and irrational
conform to that worldview. A lot of comedy has to do with pointing out the
irrational. So your jokes over time appeal to a smaller and smaller audience (people who agree with your worldview). People on the outside will be either angry or perplexed.
Case in point, Jon Stewart basically running down blogger talking points during his interview with Newt Gingrich last night, in an effort to make the Rev. Wright story seem overblown. It was sort of embarrassing. You can make an argument either way on this, but it's not too far-fetched to say that Obama's pitch is his autobiography, and it's fair to examine it. Jon Stewart's general pitch: How can ANYONE think this is a story? Like it's crazy to even consider criticism along these lines.
It's not just Obama stuff ... earlier in the episode they mocked Justice Scalia for saying torture isn't punishment. Well, from a legal standpoint, it probably isn't, and at last check Scalia is a judge. Is torture horrible and deplorable? Sure. But if you have the (at least remotely arguable) point that constitutional law doesn't apply in those situations, or that interrogation is something separate from a legal punishment, then you can make that statement. You don't expect political nuance or balance from a comedy show, but just playing a 10-second clip and then calling it "f**king crazy" (if I'm remembering correctly) is just sad. Not to mention lazy -- they're smarter than that.
I just find it strange to see people sneer at the perceived glibness of politicians, and then in turn be just as glib. Bleh.
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.
On Saturday my favorite older brother and I went to 
Grover Cleveland isn't the only high-profile stiff in Princeton Cemetery.
3) At The Meeting Place (downtown DC) last Friday, I perform a
stunning rendition of "It's the Same Old Song" by the Four Tops (my choice). I win
over part of the mostly black crowd by telling them that I am too white to sing a
Motown song by myself, and that I will need their help. I am joined in my
performance by the (excellent) karaoke host and one of the regulars, who do backup
vocals and dance. Though they do not count toward the pact, in the spirit of the
evening, and because Miller Lites were $3, I also participate in group versions of
"Rapper's Delight" and "Papa Was a Rolling Stone." Allyson follows up with the
best-enunciated version ever of "Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News (my
choice). She does an admirable job. It is widely agreed that The Meeting Place is a
very good spot for both karaoke (nice crowd, great host) and $3 Miller Lites, and
that there will be a return visit.
August 2009: Jefferson.
Fall 2009: comic interviews on the podcast. 
