And so it begins

The modern presidency, in which one man is expected to solve all the problems of the world in eight years or less, was born in Buffalo. The man of the hour was Theodore Roosevelt, as the previous man of the hour had just died about a mile away. Wearing a borrowed suit and surrounded by McKinley's cabinet (but no photographers) he took the oath, promised to do exactly what McKinley would have done, and then over the next three years trampled on all sorts of things that McKinley wouldn't have touched with 50-foot pole. Here's where the magic happened:

That's the parlor of the Wilcox mansion, on Delaware street. Wilcox was an old friend from the New York Assembly, and the guy whose suit Teddy was wearing; he had rushed to Buffalo so quickly from his family vacation in the Adirondacks that he didn't have time to pack. The house is real, though the room is a recreation -- after the Wilcoxes died in the 1930s, the place was converted to a restaurant for about 20 years. Presumably, you could request a table roughly where Teddy Roosevelt was inaugurated. Suck on that, Olive Garden.

It's a national park now, and a shiny one at that -- renovations finshed this year, so that means TOUCH SCREENS! And lots of them. Usually I don't go for that stuff, as I actually don't mind reading, but I have to say I liked it. They start you off with a ton of stuff about the Pan-American exposition, which Roosevelt had opened and McKinley was visiting when he was shot. There are old Edison kinetoscopes of the grounds, and it's astonishing. A century ago people would actually build ornate, disposable cities, and things like electric lights were novel enough to be a draw. Remember that the next time you're bored by Wii Sports.

Beyond that, there's a nice overview of the America Roosevelt was facing, his plans for world domination, etc. etc. and so forth. The hightlight still has to be the parlor, though, with one close second. Upstairs is a replica of TR's White House office (the Oval Office was being built), complete with desk, camera and e-mail capability. Here's what was waiting for me on my return to my desk.

Tags: presidents

The Franklin Pierce Experience

Things were looking up for Franklin Pierce in January 1853. He was a veteran of war, a veteran of Congress, and the nation had just elected him to become the youngest president in U.S. history. Sure, there were tough issues facing the country, and maybe his wife wasn't thrilled about the new job. But who wouldn't be excited?

Then his son was decapitated! The family was heading home from a funeral in Boston, and apparently they hadn't suffered enough that week, so their train car rolled down an embankment. Franklin was fine, wife Jane was fine, 11-year-old Benjamin was tragically shorter. At the Pierce Manse in Concord they say he was crushed, but if you get the good costumed docents at the Pierce Homestead in Hillsborough, they'll level with you: the kid was headless, and supposedly Franklin discovered this on picking up his body. He was the third Pierce child to die (the others were 3 days and 3 years) and the happy couple was, understandably, devastated. That's the big grain of salt that flavors everything thing you hear about Franklin Pierce, a reputed drunk and contender for Worst President Ever. Two months after that unfathomable mess he was running the country. Good luck with your first 100 days, Frank.

Superfriend Don (you get superfriend status by visiting a presidential site) and I got filled in on the Pierce saga with a day trip to New Hampshire last Friday, to see EVERYTHING there is to see about Franklin Pierce. It's the kind of trip that beer commercials are made of, in my mind, where the beers are all 48 oz., 8 percent alcohol by volume and calorie free. They're the kind of commericals that Franklin Pierce would appreciate, because he was raised in a bar!

That's the Pierce Homestead in Hillsborough, a fine tavern operated by Benjamin Pierce, a Revolutionary War hero, governor of New Hampshire, and, oh yeah, a backwoods hick. But he was a proud hick, and he instilled in his many progeny that great pride. Franklin, his brothers and sisters were raised upstairs, the boys in one room, the girls in another, and random passed-out strangers in the hall. It's a neat little tour, complete with costumed guides, and we got the deluxe treatment -- since we missed the first few minutes, we got a great docent to chat with us afterwards and give us all the horrific details. I've said it before, I'll say it again: Talk to your guides. They know the fun stuff, like decapitations and boozing and which souvenirs to buy (the Franklin Pierce bobblehead, which now sits on my entertainment center. Jealous? You know you are).

The interior isn't too elaborate (it was a bar, not a TGI Fridays) but it has lots of neat reproduction stenciling, a fancy parlor with some swank wallpaper (a la Martin Van Buren's house -- one of the other presidents raised in a tavern) and a "ballroom" a bit bigger than what you'd expect for a clapboard tavern built in New England in 1804. If you have those kinds of expectations. And if you do, seek help.

From there, young Franklin was off to Bowdoin College, where he would meet the lovely Jane. She was a daughter of the school president, much like "Animal House," but unlike "Animal House" there were only 13 students in his class and Jane was a Calvinist, so there was very little illicit sex on the football field. But as the saying goes, "opposites attract, and then get married for convenience and stay together even though the wife might drag her husband constantly down." It's so true! And he picked up a lifelong running buddy in Nathaniel Hawthorne, the eventual author of "The Scarlet Letter." Oh, the good times! It was like "Van Wilder" with more wool clothes.

Franklin became a lawyer (a good one) and from there leapt to politics (he was the New Hampshire Speaker of the House in his early 20s, even as his dad was serving as governor); he made it to Washington as a representative, then was picked as a senator. Jane hated D.C. and didn't go with him (he stayed in boarding houses), and he actually quit the senate after four years because she wanted him home more. So right around then it actually behooved them to have a home:

Behold the "Pierce Manse" of Concord, the only residence ever owned by our 14th president. It's a few blocks from its original location and a lot of the furniture has been replaced, but the walls are still dripping with ... uh, upper-middle class New Englandicity. Don and I got another private tour (no line at the Manse on a Friday! Go figure), which includes a walkthrough of a pretty average-looking residence and a few stories about the happy couple. They had some tragedy there (their 3-year-old died of illness in an upstairs bedroom) and did a little light entertaining, but mostly it seemed to be pretty humdrum. So boring, in fact, that Frank sprung into action as the Mexican-American war erupted. Defending New Hampshire from the hordes of Santa Ana was important business, so he got together a few hundred of his closest buddies and joined the Army. Back then, if you brought enough guys you were a general, and after distinguished service (he was injured falling off his horse) he came back home to the quiet of Concord.

That would have been the end of the story, but in 1852 the Democrats couldn't settle on a candidate, someone threw out Pierce's name (he was a veteran, a legislator and apparently hot) and the rest is sad, sad history. He started out his term on the verge of breakdown, and his wife went into hard-core religious mourning for more than a year; she also might have seen the accident as God's punishment for Franklin's political ambitions. That probably made for some light dinner conversation.

Plus he wasn't really cut out for the job. The guide in Hillsborough called him a "great mind, but not an introspective mind," and that seems to fit. Facing civil war, he crawled into the "state's rights" hole, pushing for states to set their own slavery policies. Mostly he just kind of spun his wheels, and after four years the party didn't bother renominating him (he's the only president with that distinction).

It got uglier. Jane was in failing health (she died in 1863), so he toured Europe with her and Hawthorne for a few years (you know the best way to cheer up your wife? Bring your best friend on vacation!). When they got back to New Hamphshire, he wasn't popular -- they take "Live Free or Die" seriously, and as he hadn't helped slaves live free, they were hoping he might die. His general loyalty to his buddies bit him in the ass: he kept up correspondence with Jefferson Davis, his former Secretary of War and now president of the Confederacy, and once word of the letters broke out he had to go on "vacation to Michigan" for a few weeks. He made public criticism of Lincoln's curtailing of civilliberties. And when Lincoln was shot, an angry mob turned up at Franklin Pierce's doorstep on the chance that he was in on the plot:

That's actually Franklin Pierce's Concord doorstep, believe it or not; the guide at the Manse clued us in. The house Franklin was renting -- the house he died in -- burned to the ground back in the early '90s, and nothing much has happened to the lot since. It's all weeds, next to a matress store. The mob showed up angry, but apparently Franklin gave an impromptu speech and they left cheering. We sadly don't have the text of this speech. It must have been awesome.

If there's a happy side to his later years, it's that Franklin Pierce could get back to his roots, by drinking alot. That's the other sticky thing about Pierce: he had a reputation as a drunk. Some of that was undoubtedly ginned up by his political opponents, but there is kernel of truth. They pussyfoot around the issue in Concord, but Hillsborough guides confirmed that he did enjoy the booze. He probably kept it in check when he was around Jane, but in Mexico, or Washington, or after she died, he partook of many adult beverages. There aren't any confirmed reports of him being a falling-down drunk, but he died of cirrhosis. You do the math.

He's buried in Concord at the Old North Cemetery, next to Jane and two of their kids. It's a simple marker, and if you have a tennis ball, you could stand at his grave and easily throw it into the in-ground pool of the private home abutting the cemetery. Quaint. He seems like an OK guy with some awful luck; in his case he just happened to be the president, too. The brass ring wasn't worth grabbing.

FUN PIERCE FACTS!

• His decision to tour the Caribbean with his wife after his presidency reignited his struggles with alcohol, as they signed on for a booze cruise.
• Franklin was close friends with Daniel Webster, but at Jane's insistence he was never more than a passing acquaintance with the Devil.
• Campaign slogan for 1852: "We Polked you in 1848, We shall Pierce you in 1852!" And they had campaign machetes -- seriously, we saw two of them. It would be slightly easier to turn out the vote if we still had campaign machetes today.
• The New Hampshire House is one of the biggest legislative bodies in the world, with more than 400 members -- significantly more than the actual population of New Hampshire. Our tour guide at Concord actually served and let us know that you get $200 a year for your troubles, plus some mileage costs. JACKPOT.
• Franklin often gave pro bono legal service to the Shakers. He enjoyed hanging out with them, because he found them slightly less religious than his wife.
• His correspondence with Jefferson Davis was mostly chili recipes.
• Though he did not get his party's blessing to run again, he did have the satisfaction of watching his replacement be the worst president ever.

Tags: presidents

Awesome Arthur's

In the time before paper trails, the Internet and talk radio, politics was a different beast. In the 19th century, you could actually -- get this -- accuse someone of not being born in America! What a silly, preposterous time! Hee hee!

There's a granite marker in Fairfield, Vermont, proudly declaring the exact site as the birthplace of Chester Alan Arthur. So sayeth the state of Vermont. Would that carving things in granite made them so, for I would record my personal finances with a chisel. The truth is that no one living knows exactly where Arthur was born. Fairfield seems the best bet, but there are about 4 or 5 different locations in town, all anecdotal, with a claim on that great honor. The old root cellar? The farm up the hill? The alley behind the 7-11? If the town was big enough for a 7-11, which it isn't?

A New York lawyer by the name of Arthur Hinman cast his vote for Canada or Ireland, whichever one would have kept Chet out of the vice presidential slot in 1880. He was bankrolled by the DNC, so all this birther stuff is clearly a Republican revenge plot. Hinman did have some doubt to play with: Arthur's Baptist preacher dad was off-the-boat Irish, his mom's parents lived in Canada, and the Arthurs moved alot to keep up with William's extravagant preaching lifestyle. Adding to the confusion was the fact that Chester might have lied about his age -- he insisted he was born in 1830, though the family Bible and a few other pieces of evidence say 1829. Damn you, vanity! But there wasn't any information solid enough to make Chester a foreigner, as so he went on to become our greatest sideburned president.

If you happen to be in the neighborhood of Fairfield (evading the authorities, planning a drug buy) you should stop on by. The Arthur site is just 12 miles off if I-89 through beautiful farmland, the kind of scenery that makes you want to roll down your car window, only to realize that farm air smells like a petting zoo collided with a sewage treatment facility. About halfway in you can stop at the town, a one stop-light affair with some quaint buildings, including a town meeting room with a life-sized cutout of Chester Arthur. Seriously. If you head six miles up the hill, what you'll be visiting is that slab of granite, plus a reconstruction of the simple parsonage the Arthurs moved into around 1830. If you're lucky, it'll actually be open, and you can look at the nice little displays they have about Arthur's life.

Even if it isn't open, don't despair! You can actually press your face against the many windows and read or photograph all the different displays. If you circle the building you can get them all. Don't worry about looking stupid! Speaking from personal experience, I'm about 95 percent sure that no one else will be there. You might have to take a look within, and realize that you are a 32-year-old man in the middle of nowhere pressing his face against the windows of a reconstructed home of a president no one really cares about, but don't worry -- you'll have a very long car ride back home to think about these things. And at the very least, you can always say that you drove two hours to see a spot that is probably within 10 miles or so of where Chester Alan Arthur was born. Although you could probably say that without making the trip. I doubt anyone would check.

Here are pictures! Some things to note: the house is two-tone because paint was expensive. You only put the fancy, high-priced yellow stuff on the side that would face the road; the cheap red paint would go on the back side (you can see the same pattern at Franklin Pierce's birthplace). You would think a Baptist parsonage wouldn't be beholden to such posturing, but you'd be wrong! The shot of my car is an attempt to illustrate the state of Vermont's slight overestimation of the site's parking needs. This might actually be in the running for remotest presidential site; I saw one news story with an estimate of 400 visitors a year. This is a great hobby.

New Podcast: Allan Havey

It's been a while, but we're back with a new podcast. I'm talking to stand-up Allan Havey, who you may recall from "Night After Night." It was a brilliant talk show, and between Alan and Nick Bakay there were so many inspired bits that it's a shame it didn't last longer. We chat about it a little bit in the podcast, as well as his role in the new Matt Damon move, "The Informant!" He was easy to chat with -- you'll enjoy this one.

Go get it over at the Podcast page.

Tags: presidents, podcast

Baltimore on Saturday!

If you make it through the four-day work week in one piece, you should reward yourself with a night out ... IN BALTIMORE!

This Saturday, September 12, Chris White (who may or may not be typing this) performs at the Hamilton Arts Collective for just $10. You're getting stand-up, trivia, videos and some kind of awesome finale at an astonishing discount. Seriously, it would be a crime against humanity if you didn't go.

The show starts at 8. BE THERE!

Tags: I Take Requests

Calvin and Slob

Something there is about Calvin Coolidge. We all do nothing, but Coolidge made a name of it. Given the nigh impossible task of following the amazing Warren Harding, he became a hero to small-government conservatives and mediocre to everyone else.

Whatever your thoughts on our 30th president, they begin at Plymouth Notch, Vermont, a town frozen in 1923. Harding had just had some bad seafood, or a heart attack, or faked his death to run away with his mistress. Whatever the reason, a vacationing Calvin Coolidge was rousted at his family home, and at around 2:47 a.m. on August 3 he took the oath of office. From his dad. In their living room:

Then at 2:48 a.m., they laminated the entire town for historical preservation. The Coolidge site is about Calvin, for sure, but it's also about a way of life. Coolidge was a bit skeptical about how much government should be doing for the people, and if you spend a few hours in Plymouth Notch you can see why. People there did everything themselves.

Colonel John (Coolidge's dad) was able to administer the oath because he was a public notary. He was a notary because he was also, at times, the de facto post office for Plymouth. He operated the post office because he also ran the general store. Which was across the street from his farmhouse, which was down the street from his cheese factory. The days aren't longer in Vermont, but they apparently didn't waste any part of them with stupid things like "play" or "sleep," instead preferring to build stuff and milk cows.

Young Calvin came into this life on July 4, 1872, in a room behind the general store, where the family was living at the time. Here's a transcript of the tour, offered by a very nice older lady who sits on the general store porch in a rocking chair in between tours: "That's where he was born." They honor Yankee stoicism by practicing it. God bless Vermont.

From there it's across the street to the farmhouse the family moved to a few years later; it's one of those multi-functional New England dealies where the barn is attached to the house, so all your earthly possessions can smell like animals. That's why they need all those Yankee Candles, people. There's a spare bedroom (with a quilt made by Coolidge!) that was also used as a jail when Colonel John's public duties required it; there's the parlor, the "oath of office" room and the laundry room; but most important, there's the privy, a two-seater that was the only sanitary facility in the house until 1932. In an era of running water and electricity, Our vacationing vice president would have been wiping with catalogs by candlelight when he stopped in to see the family. That's a man who won't care for government handouts, right there.

As an adult he made his home in Western Massachusetts (he was a country lawyer), but Plymouth Notch always figured in his life. It's neat to see it as it was. Take a look:

The General Store. The birthplace is the brown building attached at the back. This would have been the center of town life, in that early 20th century town life revolved around hard candy. On the second floor there's a "meeting hall" -- basically an open room with a little stage in the corner where the Plymouth Old-Time Dance Orchestra (all relations or friends of Coolidge) could set up. In 1924, Coolidge's son died from an infected blister developed on the White House tennis court; doctors ordered the grief-stricken president on vacation, and so he set up shop in Plymouth Notch for a few weeks. The summer of 1924, the executive branch ran out of a room over top of a general store. Probably because it had the only working phone in town.

The Plymouth Cheese Factory. Colonel John got together with a few of the local farmers and opened up a cheese factory, because they had cows and everybody needs a hobby. They made granular curd cheese, because years of market research have proved that most people like granules in their cheese. Yum! It hasn't been in continuous operation, but the cheese factory is currently open for business, with a nice big picture window so you can watch the magic happen. Up top they have a mini-musuem which includes some of the original equipment installed by Colonel John and friends. Try the gouda, it's delicious.

The tool shed and church. The shed was the property of the Coolidge family; since they were jacks of all trades, they needed a place to keep their gear. It's an Old Yankee Workshop. The church was the property of God, although it's possible that given enough time, Vermont farmers would have found a way to do his work as well. The Coolidges had a family pew toward the front.

Throw in the carriage museum down the street and you get a really nice idea of the lifestyle and the work involved. That probably tells you more about Calvin that Wikipedia ever could. Once you wrap up in Plymouth Notch, it's just a minute down the road to Notch Cemetery and the final resting place of Now Very Silent Cal.

He's at end of a row of Coolidges, not the center. Aside from the presidential seal, it's about as simple as a marker can be. Nice. FUN COOLIDGE FACTS!

• Though famously tight-lipped, Coolidge gave an unprecedented number of press conferences. Most of them were about cheese.
• The only president born on the Fourth of July.
• He was the governor of Massachusetts, proving that New England Republicans are not actually mythological beasts.
• As the story goes, a young lady at a White House dinner confessed to Coolidge that a friend bet she couldn't get three words out of Coolidge. His response: "Security! Kill!"

Tags: presidents

Much Sexier than "The Wire"

I generally don't want to tell you how to live your life. But the thing is, if you're anywhere near Baltimore this weekend, you have a moral and spirtual obligation to come to my show at Hamilton Arts Collective. It's only $10, and you're getting comedy, trivia, stand-up and more. In these troubling economic times, if you pass up a deal THAT GOOD, it's like punching a poor person in the face.

Besides, admit that you want to see what an arts collective looks like! I'm hoping it's like a Borg cube, but with art.

My big vacation

I'm almost done with my reports from my trip the other week. Just one more to go, and we'll save it for tomorrow. I'll give you a hint: MORMONS!

Tags: I Take Requests

Great Stories of the Presidents!

Calvin Coolidge was famously conservative with words. At one White House dinner party, a young woman challenged him directly. She turned to the president and said: "A good friend has bet me that I cannot get three words out of you." Coolidge, without looking up, said just two words: "Guards! Kill!"

America thought it had elected a clean-shaven president in Abraham Lincoln. But while awaiting inauguration, he contemplated a letter from a 9-year-old girl, suggesting he would look better with a beard. Riding the train to Washington, the now bearded Lincoln made sure to stop in that little girl's hometown and thank her for her letter. Seeing him on the platform, the stunned little girl remarked, "You take grooming advice from 9-year-olds? This country is boned."

William Howard Taft was our portliest president. While serving earlier in his career as the governor of the Philippines, Taft spent a day riding 25 miles through the countryside on a horse. When he cabled Washington to report on his activities, War Secretary Elihu Root slyly cabled back, "Christ, you're fat."

John Tyler displeased the Whigs after taking over for William Harrison, and so they kicked him out of the party while he was still president. On his final day in the White House, he hosted a grand gala, and was heard to remark, "Now no one can say I am a president without a party!" But nobody laughed, because it was a cash bar.

Thomas Jefferson's distaste for monarchy and its trappings had been instrumental in breaking with England. As president, he tried his best to keep things informal and "republican," sometimes to a fault: he greeted the minister from England in a dressing gown and slippers! It was seen as a tremendous insult, and led directly to the war of 1812, in which a lot of people died.

John Quincy Adams would often skinny dip in the Potomac before work. Crusading journalist Anne Royall, hoping to interview the president, found his bathing spot and sat on his clothes. When he returned, she refused to give him his clothes without him agreeing to an interview. And that is how Naked Tuesdays started at the White House!

Dwight Eisenhower often had foreign leaders visit his cattle ranch in Gettysburg. He would then impress them by going into a cattle pen with a huge bull, and poking it in the rear with a shotgun to make it stand up! Everyone loved it but Jawaharal Nehru, who was gored in the stomach a few times.

Tags: presidents

Meet Joe Smith

Love the Mormons, hate the Mormons or be a Mormon, you gotta admit it's a pretty interesting phenomenon. Any religion bigger than a cult these days is usually rooted way in the past -- modernization hasn't been all that kind to the sorts of wackiness that you have to swallow to get a starter faith up and running. But the Mormons are a couple million strong and they're younger than America. And Vermont has the monument to prove it!

The birthplace of Joseph Smith wasn't on my original trip itinerary the other week; I picked up one of those tourism maps at a rest stop. There are lots of things to see on I-89, it turns out. But I've taken brewery tours before, and I don't usually see the birthsites of major religious figures, so the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints got my extra hours. And what hours they were!

You get off around exit 3, drive along a river and then head straight uphill past a few homes and farms. Then there's a really big gated entrance where you pull into the campus. It's really nice: tree-lined roads and pathways, carefully maintained gardens, neatly mown lawns. Oh, and non-stop religious music! I thought I was having either a stroke or a religious experience for a few seconds before I noticed, in the middle of the trees, speakers on poles constantly pumping out choirs singing hymns.

It's all just a prelude to the big show: A GIGANTIC OBELISK!

That's solid rock, baby, on top of (or very close to) the spot where Joseph Smith was born on Dec. 23, 1805. Yes, Joseph Smith was born on Festivus. The place was just a simple farm them, and the Smiths weren't exactly reaping the whirlwind. All the good Mormony stuff (visits from Angels, finding the Book of Mormon on a set of golden plates) happened after they had pulled up stakes and moved to upstate New York; outside of the obelisk there's nothing historical to see (the house is long gone).

There is a little Mormon-operated museum, though, with a snapshot of Joseph's life. The basic pattern: telling people about a religious revelation, getting run out of town on a rail, setting up in a new town, having an even stranger revelation. Repeat four or five times. Then the cycle breaks when some people in Illinois off him. Put that story in the 3rd century and you wouldn't bat an eyelash. Put it in the the 19th century and it's just mind-boggling. Here's a statue of the man himself:

Note the tissues; there were about five boxes around the room, because people are obviously crying at the sight of the statue. I didn't go for the missionary-guided tour of the grounds (families were there in Sunday best waiting for it), instead opting to look around myself and then get back on the road. For me, it's history, for other people, it's a religious experience. Better to let them have that moment unspoiled.

Please Stop

To 50 percent of the people on my Facebook feed: If the state health care is such a outrage, you probably should have been yelling about it nonstop since the last reform tanked in 1994. You reading a few blogs and some newspaper articles doesn't make you an expert on the moral, political and economic implications of massive changes to a huge piece of our economy. You aren't helping.

Tags: religion

Welcome McSweeney's

Greetings to anyone who found their way here off my presidents column. Please click around, and check back later Thursday for my latest podcast -- an interview with comedian Greg Giraldo at the DC Improv. It'll be the bee's knees.

Challenge Accepted: Pandemics

For fans of the Chris White Challenge, you'll be glad to know I'm back on the case. The new challenge comes from Cory Harris, and topic is "Pandemics." That means anything from swine flu to the black death to beanie babies, if you want to be really liberal about it. Jokewriting has commenced.

If all goes well, we'll have it as part of the show at "I Take Requests" live at the D.C. Arts Center! That's Sept. 26 at 7:30, and $10 gets you trivia, jokes, videos, singing, and karate as needed. Be there or be somewhere else not nearly as entertaining.

NEW PODCAST: Greg Giraldo

I enjoyed chatting with Greg last year, and luckily enough he agreed to sit down again. Listen in for some info on his recent DVD taping, his Spanish-Colombian roots and what you might say if you wanted to hurt his feelings. Exciting stuff. You can get it through this link. Enjoy!

Tags: presidents, podcast

No ifs, ands ...

Thursday was a busy day for Chris White Enterprises. I left the house at 9 to take the subway downtown for a podcast. Then I spent a few hours doing some copy editing at my part-time office. Then I walked 20 minutes into Adams Morgan to drop off some promotional materials, did some shopping and hanging out, walked to Dupont Circle, had a beer with my girlfriend, hit up an open mic, then took the subway home. I was in public or office settings for 14 straight hours.

When I got home, I took off my jeans, and square in the middle of the butt was a big piece of a parking sticker. I recently swapped out the DC parking sticker on my car, and a remnant of the old sticker must have landed on the driver's seat. I had worn the same jeans Wednesday night when driving to a show; that's when I picked up the sticker.

So, for 14 hours, NO ONE WAS LOOKING AT MY BUTT.

I'm canceling the swimsuit calendar shoot.

Happy Rosh However It's Spelled!

May your matzah ball drop at midnight.

Just Friends

I hate to say it, but "Just Friends" has now taken its rightful place in the Pantheon of Movies I Must Watch to Their Conclusion Regardless of When I Flip Past Them. It stands proudly with "New Jack City," "Back to School" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

In a related note, I would like to reiterate my position that it is possible to calculate with precision the exact point in a career that a hot actress should first go topless, so that she can maximize box-office receipts. String guys along for a few years to build up demand, then unleash before you're yesterday's news. Amy Smart missed the mark by a few years.

DCAC!

Every day you're getting a reminder: DC Arts Center, September 26, 7:30 p.m. Tickets are just $10 and it's going to be a hell of a show. If you're in the Washington area and you like fun then you should be there.

Tags: religion, movies

DCAC This Saturday!

Hey there champions! This Saturday I conclude my run of small, self-produced theater shows close to home, at the DC Arts Center in Adams Morgan. The show starts at 7:30, and for just $10 you're getting stand-up, videos, trivia and, of course, my undying gratitude (street value TBD). You can make a reservation with DCAC or just pay at the door, whatever you like.

If you're looking for kicks this Saturday, please stop on by -- and even if you can't make it, please spread the word to anyone who might be interested. It really is a fine show and I take a lot of pride in giving people their money's worth.

See you this weekend!

You Expect More from Booze Stickers

My grocery store has a separate liquor section, where your purchases must be rung up separately. To show that you have payed for your case of beer, they slap a yellow sticker on it after you pay. Usually it just says "Thank You!"

Now it says: "DON'T FORGET YOUR FLU SHOT? See Pharmacy for details"

I would like to meet the person who wrote this sticker, and ask them about the question mark. Then I would like to meet the supervisor who signed off on their work, and ask them about the question mark. And then I think we should all work together to get them jobs writing menus for Chinese restaurants.

Park It

It was a beautiful day here in Washington, the kind of day you'd feel guilty about wasting, and so I went to the National Arboretum to get in my exercise. I run there about once a month, and if you go on a weekday, there's always something fishy going on: People sitting in parked cars.

From what I can tell, people drive in for their lunch hour, sit there in a parked car, and then drive back to work. It's not just the Arboretum -- I see this in Potomac Park and Anacostia Park when I run in those places, too. You'd think it was all people taking naps, but it isn't. A lot of them are just sitting there listening to the radio.

There's more to this story. I can feel it. We all want to get away from our desk, but why drive to a nice outdoor spot and then sit in your car? Are you waiting on a drug deal? Are you checking over the schematics for when you finally shoot up the office? Are you just trying to get away from government listening devices?

If you know what's going on here, please contact me, unless you're the kind of person who mysteriously sits in a parked car for an hour, in which case I don't want to deal with you.

Tags: I Take Requests

DCAC This Saturday!

Chris, are you going to post this every day this week? YOU BET I AM!

This Saturday I conclude my run of small, self-produced theater shows close to home, at the DC Arts Center in Adams Morgan. The show starts at 7:30, and for just $10 you're getting stand-up, videos, trivia and, of course, my undying gratitude (street value TBD). You can make a reservation with DCAC or just pay at the door, whatever you like.

If you're looking for kicks this Saturday, please stop on by -- and even if you can't make it, please spread the word to anyone who might be interested. It really is a fine show and I take a lot of pride in giving people their money's worth.

See you this weekend!

Misters President

A big thank you to everyone who complimented my first presidents column over at McSweeney's. It answers the question of whether we can dunk on a president. It's god's work we're doing here, folks.

Installments will be out every few weeks, and I already have two more rough drafts written: "Was Jefferson a jerk?" and, "Should the president grow a beard?" But if you have any questions, I'd love to hear 'em! Send your suggestions to chris@dcstandup.com.

Get on the Poodle

About a week ago I made a trip to the American Visionary Arts Museum in Baltimore, which is awesome. Why awesome? Because when they say "visionary," they don't mean far-seeing. They mean people who are actually having visions. Seriously, if you have a cognitive or personality disorder, and no artistic training, then this museum is your best shot to glory. The stories about the artists are just as cool as thing things on the walls; they have an OCD collection, a guy who made the Lusitania out of toothpicks, a five-panel painting from the guy who broke the "21" quiz show scandal ... Even if you hate museums, you'll love the AVAM, because you can dismiss anything you don't like by loudly announcing "This guy is crazy!" And you'll probably be right! There's a giant ball made out of 1,000 bras. A THOUSAND BRAS. Just go, you'll like it.

Barring injury, death or lucrative financial opportunity, I will be returning May 1, 2010 for the Kinetic Sculpture race. Some of the vehicles entered in past races are on display at AVAM, and they're astonishing -- the museum's entry is two gigantic (at least 15 feet high) pink poodles, rigged to a pedicab of some sort. All the vehicles have to be amphibious (the race goes through the harbor) and arsy. Go check out some of the videos on their web site.

May 1. Circle the date.

Ah, Youth

The elementary school across the street from my house is back in session, and so we resume the joy of listening to fifth graders on the playground.

There's a group of about 10 boys who have played some game with a football a few times in the last week, and from what I can tell, here are the rules: One person throws the football at the group. Then, someone might catch it, but regardless of that outcome, they all call each other n-----, bitch or f---face for about three minutes. They do it loud enough to be heard across a four-lane street, but whenever an adult yells at them from 20 feet away, it's because they're roughhousing.

As a point of reference, I can definitely remember days in 5th grade when I took a doll to school.

Sigh.

Tags: I Take Requests, presidents

I meant to plug something ...

... what was it? Hmm ... let me think ... Oh yeah! The BEST SHOW EVER!

This Saturday I bring the thunder to the DC Arts Center in Adams Morgan. The show starts at 7:30, and for just $10 you're getting stand-up, videos, trivia and, of course, pleasant dreams for the rest of your life. You can make a reservation with DCAC or just pay at the door, whatever you like.

If you're looking for kicks this Saturday, please stop on by -- and even if you can't make it, please spread the word to anyone who might be interested. It really is a fine show and I take a lot of pride in giving people their money's worth.

See you this weekend!

Worthless Grants

I think I've just about had it with MacArthur genius grants. Every year, they just throw $500,000 at 24 different "geniuses" to "better humanity." But do you ever read any follow-up stories about those "geniuses" accomplishing great things?

No, you don't, either because you don't subscribe to Particle Physics Monthly, or because they aren't really doing anything. If you worked hard your whole life, and then someone gave you $500,000, no strings attached, are you going to work as hard? Of course not! You'd probably pat yourself on the back with a trip to Vegas. "I'll get back to genius stuff after this well-earned vacation," you'd say. Then four weeks later you're face down on the tarmac at the Reno airport wondering how someone as smart as you could be taken in by a gang of international organ thieves.

The MacArthur people are derailing the productivity of some great minds. But my new awards do no such thing! The Worthless Grants award people who have accomplished amazing things that in no way improve the overall lot of humanity. If chosen, you will get a phone call at 2:37 a.m. your time notifying you of your excellence, and then I will take your address and mail you a $15 gift card for 7-11. Assuming 7-11 has gift cards. I haven't checked. If they don't, you will get scratch-off lotto tickets.

Please send your nominations to chris@dcstandup.com. It should be something really great and really worthless, like inventing a new kind of chili. Dream big! Accomplish small!

Rhyme Time

While we're on the subject, one of the MacArthur grants went to a poet. Is there an artistic field MORE DEAD THAN POETRY? Let's say you're the greatest contemporary poet. How many people know who you are or have read your work? Graduate English students? Sad people? You're reaching, what, a few thousand people?

I guess what I'm getting at is, WHERE IS MY $500,000?

Tags: I Take Requests, news

Trivia NIGHT!

Trivia was back at the Improv lounge Wednesday with all of the usual magic! Lots of new faces this month, and some victories by old champions. Last month, one attendee told me my questions favored "guy" topics. In her honor, we started off with "Girl Power," filled with empowering lady questions like: "Are bake times longer or shorter at higher altitudes?" We had a very tough worksheet, "Listless," which had teams trying to make an alphabetical list of G8 members, a west-east list of Candian provinces, the last five Best Picture winners and the last five Stanley Cup winners. "The Missing Link" (video) gave teams X and Z, then asked them for Y. (X: "All in the Family." Z: "Good Times." Y: ?) And "It's All Your Fault" featured 10 questions about the blame game: "Which Jewish holiday is the origin of the scapegoat?"

I thought the worksheet would be really tough, and I actually threw in the Best Picture list because I thought it would be a gimmie.I think only one team out of 10 got it. Quite a few could name every nation in the G8, though. That's Washington for ya.

Sqizzle got back to the top of the podium with a 26 of a possible 41. Golden Triangle Gun Club just missed a tie with 25. And the Pipers, though only three people deep, got a 21 and locked up third place. Here they are in order of finish, and by the way, you bake a cake longer in Denver, Y equals "Maude" and Yom Kippur.

Worthless Grants!

I am happy to announce the first winners of the White Foundation Worthless Grants! Steve Palowski of Iron Mountain, MI, invented a new kind of chili by combining several existing brands of canned chili. His amazing discovery which in no way benefits humanity is rewarded with $15 in scratch-off lotto tickets.

Also getting the 2:37 a.m. phone call was Shoney Blackmon, of Atlanta, who used only an autotuner and a jew's harp to record a crunk version of Carl Orff's "Carmina Burana" which is only available on vinyl. He gets a $15 gift card to 7-11, on the condition that it be used exclusively for Slurpees.

Tags: trivia, grants

Worthless!

Worthless Grant No. 3! Javier Garcia of Mexico City trained his pet goat to make a fairly decent mojito, every day at exactly 5 p.m. For this, he is granted $15 in Ramen products.

Worthless Grant No. 4! Using schematics for a particle accelerator, Physicist Maryanne Cross of Spokane, Wash., built a one-mile track for colliding 12 oz. cans of domestic beer, leading directly to the creation of Milwaukee's Blue Ribbon. She is recognized with $15 in potato chips.

Worthless Grant No. 5! Sanjay Dhruva of Phoenix, Ariz., conducted more than 15,000 interviews across all sociological categories to develop a scientific, irrefutable definition of "dips**t." For his worthless service to mankind, he gets $15 worth of SuperCuts.

Worthless Grant No. 6! Stuart Hanson of Montreal is in the middle of a 14-year effort to develop a coherent explanation for "Mulholland Drive." He gets $15 in 1988 Steve Jeltz Topps cards.

The Case for Small Government

We face now a vast expansion of government spending to cure the ills of society, on top of the vast expansions that already have occurred under the past administration. But there exists irrefutable proof that simply throwing money at problems does not work, oftentimes making things worse.

The proof is Nancy Pelosi's face.

Tags: grants, politics

I Take Requests TONIGHT!

Last call! Chris White performs tonight at the DC Arts Center in Adams Morgan. It's trivia, videos, stand-up and karaoke all in one show. It might not even be legal. But we're doing it anyway.

Show starts at 7:30 -- see you there!

Tags: I Take Requests

Back to the Past

The Renaissance, in case you went to a crappy public school, was a magical time when culture and philosophy flourished throughout the West, chiefly through the invention of food on a stick. Amazing developments in engineering allowed for unprecedented achievements in the field of cleavage. Truly, it was a golden age.

I've now been to the Maryland Renaissance Festival three years in a row. By state law, I am no longer eligible to be a sperm donor in Maryland, but other than that I haven't noticed any ill effects. Of course, the pickle, soft pretzel, sausage on a stick, candied cashews and chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick are still working their way through my system, so I'll keep you posted. It is a good time, in that there's a lot of food on sticks, but I would be very curious to meet the inventor of the Renaissance festival and then bring him to the most modern incarnations. He was probably a history buff, and I'm guessing he'd have a breakdown after seeing the first heavy-set woman in an elf costume with veiny boobs pushed up to her forehead. He'd probably cry so hard that he wouldn't even see the third, ninth, or 27th such women. It's like a convention for ladies who WANT to be biker b****es, but also want to hold on to their love of crushed velvet and erotic Middle Earth fan fiction. And the men who love them.

But then, that inventor would cheer up when he saw a guy dressed in a knight costume made out of Yeungling boxes. "Neat!" he'd say.

On the entertainment side, this year we went with jousting (fun), the "Hack and Slash" weapons show (good, but for some reason I've seen the exact same show three years running), human chess (awful) and a short, comedy version of "Othello" by Shakespeare's Skum (awful name, great production). I also threw axes and knives. In a booth setting. Not at people.

I need something new, though. Something fresh. Something that involves just as much eating and bawdy, crotch-trauma based humor. But more lions and fewer pants. Yes, I want a ROMAN FESTIVAL! Washington D.C., I'm looking at you. We already have a senate. Let's demolish RFK and make the magic happen.

Thank You Audiences

A special thank you to the people who came out to "I Take Requests" at the DC Arts Center on Saturday. It was a rainy mess of a day, but enough people still made it out in a walking neighborhood to have a good show. I had a fine time performing and I hope you had a good time watching.

And while I'm at it, thanks to everyone who came out to witness the "I Take Requests" summer tour 2009. The whole thing was a big experiment / subsidized vacation. I did 5 shows in 5 different locations, setting up gigs that allowed me to indulge a few hobbies and visit friends. For each show I was relying heavily on web marketing and free newspaper listings to turn out a crowd. What I learned (or had reinforced):

1) I'm not famous. I knew this going in, but it's good to know I wasn't being overly humble.

2) Not being famous doesn't mean you can't entertain people. Complete strangers who showed up seemed to have a good time. At the very least, they had good enough of a time that no one tried to punch me in the face or demand their money back. Huzzah!

3) Facebook ads are worthless. Five shows, about $150 in fees, and I don't think a single person came to one of these shows based on a Facebook ad. The closer you get to an event, the more you have to pay per click, to the point where you'd have to cough up about $2.50 (in some locations) per click. Not $2.50 per guaranteed paying customer -- $2.50 per CLICK. As in, someone could accidentally click on your ad and you'd be out $2.50. Or, someone who hated you and wanted to spite you could click on your ad repeatedly and bankrupt you. Maybe I could design a better ad, or be more famous, but in my experience: Facebook ads are worthless.

4) I'm not sure how small-theater economics work. I had a really fine time with each of the five venues; I didn't end up paying out the nose for the use of any location, and in shows with rental fees, I covered them through ticket sales. But what's the best way to pack a place out? If you're not famous and you're an out-of-towner, you're relying in large part on people just looking for "something to do." You can get your show listed in a few places, but you have to depend in large part on the theater's built-in audience (best attendance was at Boston; the show was in a great comedy club). Plus you have to hope that there aren't too many other entertainment options that night. Say you have a 50-seat venue and the rental fee is something like $100 (not crazy). With a $10 ticket, you're looking at $400 with a sellout. You have travel costs no matter what. If your advertising costs get too high, you're seriously cutting into profits. In theory you could have multiple shows to spread out promotion costs, but the longer you stay, the more your travel costs go up. If you make a ton off of merchandise sales, you're golden, but that's not the easiest thing to do in a down economy. And this is just if you assume one person on the show -- imagine if you had a band with three people splitting the money.

"Do it yourself" stardom isn't really practical in most cases -- you need help to get your name out there and put butts in the seats. Being a good performer helps, but you aren't going to build a following in a distant place by producing your own shows. On the positive side, it's fun, and you can set your own itinerary -- two luxuries a lot of people don't get to enjoy. That's worth a lot.

5) Vermont and New Hampshire are really pretty, in all seasons.

6) In comedy you keep "graduating" to longer performances -- you have to learn pacing, energy and how to pull a crowd with you through 7 minutes, then 15 minutes, then 30 minutes ... It gets tougher the longer you go, because there aren't as many opportunities to perform longer sets. The first time I had to do a 45-minute show (a few years ago) it was a disaster. In the last month I was just able to knock out five solid shows, doing about an hour of stand-up each time. There's plenty to learn, but it's nice to feel like you're making progress. Progress to what is debatable, but onward and upward with the arts!

Tags: I Take Requests, history

Worthless!

We have awarded the final four Worthless Grants for 2009. Here they are:

Bob Plontz of Queens, N.Y., invented the word "splarnge," a noun defined as "any word rhyming with orange." He gets a $15 iTunes gift card.

Hannah Frentz designed and sold 10,000 coffee cups with the inscription "World's Most Abusive Stepdad." For her non-contribution to society she gets a $15 gift card to Dunkin' Donuts.

Biologist Maria Sherman of Peoria isolated the gene that determines whether or not a person likes Dane Cook. For this she gets $15 worth of "Employee of the Month" Blu-Ray discs.

Zeke Browley of Jefferson Parish, La., uses computer modeling, polymers developed for the space program and a degree in mechanical engineering to design perfect pairs of stirrup stretch pants. $15 gift card to TJ Maxx.

Tags: worthless grants

Sometimes ...

Sometimes I really do wish that I had some serious medical problem or crippling social disorder, so that I could build all my showbusiness publicity around it. "Come see the amazing comedian who somehow copes with both combination skin and triskadekaphobia," the press releases would say. "He's not that talented, but man is he brave!" It sells itself. Thanks for NOTHING, mom and dad. You just HAD to make me white, upper middle-class and well-adjusted. Sigh.

You might say: "Stop moping! Moping never got you anywhere!" Well, you're wrong. About 90 percent of government spending was originated after prolonged, organized moping. Just check out this chart:

That's some convincing stuff. I think the point is, if we want to get the deficit under control, we need to amend the Constitution so that no one over the age of 65 can vote. Into the salt mines with them! If they were more actively mining salt, they'd live longer, more fulfilling lives, instead of sitting around in climate-controlled environments being depressed and demanding federal cash for every little speed bump that life throws their way.

And let's see what we can do about getting "Newhart" back on the air!

Please bear in mind that all this seemed really lucid at 2:57 a.m.

Reading Rainbow

You're probably asking yourself, "Hey, Chris, what are you reading these days?" I'm glad you asked. I'm reading the memoirs of Herbert Hoover for 1920-1933, which I picked up in a used book shop. Hard to believe that anyone ever "used" the memoirs of Herbert Hoover, but there you have it. I am reading this in preparation for a future installment of my McSweeneys column, in which I shall answer the question: "Do we need a man like Herbert Hoover right now?" I am also putting out some research feelers for a column on what the Founding Fathers smelled like. We're doing god's work here, people.

But back to Herb. He's an engineer and he writes like one, so it's not exactly a bawdy trip through the Roaring 20s. But it is intriguing to see that the concerns of that era were exactly the same as the concerns we face now: unemployment, fair wages, health care, and trying to find the King of Belgium a place to sleep when he visits California. The more things change the more they stay the same.

In the near future, look for "Should the president grow a beard?" and "Was Thomas Jefferson a jerk?" And keep your suggestions coming to chris@dcstandup.com.

Tags: reality