Donnell was on "Chappelle's Show." He was Ashy Larry, and he's also the guy who famously says "I'm rich, bitch!" So guess what I didn't ask him about AT ALL?
Instead, we get into his time in the Air Force, how his mom made him laugh when he was growing up, and the sorts of things you have to do for a good time when you're stationed in South Korea. Plus he throws the race card on me about three times. I really enjoyed talking with him.
Today McSweeney's Internet Tendency released the second installment of "Chris White Answers Profound Questions About the Presidents." This time out I'm determining if the president should have a beard. I think you'll like the conclusion.
Movie Review: Zombieland
This was very entertaining. It wasn't all that scary, it wasn't all that hilarious, but it did everything pretty well and wrapped up in about 90 minutes. It also has one of the best extended cameos you'll ever see in a movie. I will not spoil it by revealing it here, and god bless the people who kept it out of all the commercials and previews. It's very rare to be surprised by a movie cameo these days, and you forget how fun that can be in a packed theater.
The only big problems are the usual ones with "rage" zombies. They would never exist. If your zombies are animated by evil, then all bets are off -- dark magic can do whatever the hell it wants. But if some kind of virus is destroying humanity, we have to talk:
1) How is it spreading? By biting, I know. But why are rage zombies attacking people, taking a bite and then letting them go? Why wouldn't they just kill them and keep eating their bodies? Sure, some people will get away mid-attack, but that's a small number.
2) How are they living? See, rage zombies aren't "dead." They have to eat. And considering their size, they have to eat a lot. In most movies, they lose the capacity to prepare a delicious meal or even open canned food, so all they're eating is animals, humans or other zombies. Food stock would be depleted pretty quickly. If you found a cabin on a mountain with about three months of Spam you'd probably make it through.
3) Why is the power always operating? I'm pretty sure a lot of power utilities would go down once all the maintenance workers were dead and enough zombies crashed into telephone poles.
These are serious problems, but I'm happy to report that watching Woody Harrelson with a submachine gun is enought to make you forget about them for 90 minutes.
On Monday night I passed up $125 in freelance work. Instead I went to an open mic watched a disturbing number of people talk about hitting women and having sex with children.
Breakin'
How was your Saturday? Did you see a guy with one leg spin on his head? No? Then I probably had a better Saturday than you:
"Chuck Norris," aka Half Step, was just one of the many fine competitors at the 4-hour B-Boy battle I watched in Adams Morgan on Sunday. He was the only competitor who could remove a body part and then use it his dance routine, though.
Breakdancing in the movies is a lot of fun, what with the tight close-ups, great lighting, and dramatic tension of a possible loss resulting in you or your best friend a) being killed by drug dealers who loaned you money; b) being forced to drop out of an arts school and go live with an abusive parent; c) being killed by an abusive parent or arts school that loaned you money; d) being forced to live with a drug-dealing abusive parent who will surely loan you money and then kill you.
But on the streets it's even better. In the movies, the battles are all about evil, since your opponents are probably fronted by two white kids from a rich neighborhood who stole all your moves. At the battle Saturday (part of the Crafty Bastards arts fair) everyone seemed to be about the love. Sure, on the dance floor, you might use a body language and dance to imply that someone has small (or no) genitalia. But afterward, it's all handshakes and hugs. No one seemed crushed to have lost.
The whole thing was very impressive. I have no idea if the people we saw were particularly good, but they can do a lot of things I could not do, even while falling down in the shower. Some of the stars:
I missed this guy's name, but the emcee kept calling him Corey Mathews. Considering he was wearing a Liberty Bell hat, that's priceless. You'll notice his face on the inset, and then in the photo proper he appears to be completely airborn doing some kind of flip. He was the best dancer all day -- really fluid, some very impressive physicality and a really good reaction to whatever the DJ played (he had some kind of move for just about every horn pop, so he knew the songs cold). Mr. Feeney would be proud, since Corey and his partner won the event.
He's not in full gear in that picture, but it's the Atomic Goofball. Full gear is jean shorts, goggles, that Street Fighter II shirt and pulled-up athletic socks with green stripes at the top. He competed by himself and mowed down a few two-man teams; from what I could tell, he just ran out of gas (since he had to dance twice as much as his opponents). Goofball had some awesome power moves, plus maybe the best idea of how to play to the crowd -- probably the best taunter in the tournament. A lot of fun to watch.
And finally, the DJ. He was great. Since every other person in the audience seemed to be carrying a $5,000 digital camera, I'm guessing there are a gazillion photos on flickr if you want to see more of these dudes. If you'd like to become a breakdancer yourself, here are my recommendations for getting started: 1) get some kind of T-shirt related to videogames; 2) try to be Asian; 3) have reasonable health insurance. I can't stress 3 enough.
And really, if you can breakdance, you probably should. Not for fame or glory -- those are elusive, and when captured, fleeting. Think instead of the future, when your surly teenage child is having a whiny fit and accuses you of being uncool. "Really?" you'll say. "I'm uncool? Daddy wants to show you a DVD, because daddy is cooler than you ever will be, you ungrateful little parasite."
Dear lord that would be worth it.
Dome on the Range
I rounded out my Saturday at an awesome houseparty thrown by my neighbors. So many highlights and fine people that I can't get into it all, but I should tell you that I met a guy who just recently purchased a dome.
Yes, he bought a geodesic dome for a house. The dome craze ended about 25 years ago, so this isn't the sort of thing that usually happens at a party. I went a little beyond the bounds of politeness in requesting an invitation to the dome warming, because WHO WOULDN'T WANT TO GO TO A DOME WARMING? If this doesn't appeal to you we can't be friends.
If this pans out, I am going to find a welcome mat that says "Dome Sweet Home" for the gift. Oooh, or maybe a sign for the kitchen that says "Range on the Dome."
The playoffs start today. I'd like to say I'm excited, but considering that a Phillies World Series victory is both statistically inevitable and fated by the gods of several major religions, some of the drama has been eliminated.
One thing I do not enjoy about the baseball playoffs is how the nature of the game changes. Too many off days, strange start times (2:30?), unusually long inning breaks, being stuck with infuriating national broadcasters instead of your favorite local guys ... it's all to maximize revenues, but it definitely affects game strategy and psychology. Baseball is oftentimes about timing and routine and weird schedules muck with that. Why change the nature of the contest after playing 162 (or 163) games?
It's no big deal for Philadelphia, since the Phillies have clearly proved that they are the best in the world regardless of circumstances, but how is that fair to other teams, with their inferior skill and generally low levels of attractiveness?
By the way, did you know that the WNBA finals are happening right now? No, seriously! There's still a WNBA! Who knew?
Well, this is upsetting. Good buddy Jared Stern passes along this link about a TV show based on congressman living together in a group house.
Why does that sound familiar ... oh yeah ...
Sure, I might not have a "legal team," but I'm confident that we can prove that my idea was totally ripped off by unscrupulous Hollywood scumbags and that I am entitled to at least $45 million in emotional damages. Start your letter-writing campaigns today!
On Wednesday I had an hour to kill before a gig in Chinatown, so I did what any normal red-blooded American male would. I went to the National Portrait Gallery to look at pictures of the presidents. For something like the fifth time.
The details are a little too sexy for a family blog like this, but one thing stuck out: they changed the Clinton portrait. It's not strange for the gallery to rotate some of the images -- they aren't committed to use the "official" White House portrait of each guy, so they do mix things up from time to time.
The old Clinton image was striking -- it was a bright, (if I'm remembering correctly) full-body depiction in which he seemed to have a bit of a gut and a big, shiny nose. It wasn't the most flattering image, but you could tell it was Clinton.
In the new one (painted 2007) he has a dark suit, he's staring right at you, he's more handsome, more dignified and it actually takes you a second to realize it's Bill Clinton. The face is too skinny, the hair doesn't seem right and he has an expression I can't ever remember seeing on Bill Clinton. The guy standing next to me at the museum had the same reaction -- one of the most famous faces of the last 20 years and his portrait is somehow unrecognizable.
I searched the Web for the image, but I couldn't find it. If you're in the neighborhood, just run in and check it out. I don't know if it says something about Clinton or the portrait gallery, but it says something. Strange.
Commander in Beef
While we're on the subject, after surveying all the portraits, I think our sexiest president was ...
That's going only by portraits. He looked a bit more haggard in photos since they probably didn't paint in all the damage from the booze. But that is one sexy painting. I might have to come back to this in a McSweeney's column -- if you have a vote for sexiest president, feel free to chime in (chris@dcstandup.com).
I first worked with DC Benny in Indianapolis a few years ago; between shows on Friday and Saturday, he bought both me and the emcee dinner at a restaurant across the street. Back then I was new enough to think that was a courtesy all headliners extended to everyone. A few years down the road, I know it's just evidence that DC Benny is a really cool guy.
If you ever get the chance, check out his show. I'm not always a big fan of storytelling in a comedy club environment -- for some people, "telling a story" is code for "not being funny." DC nails it, though -- it's just a great blend of longer anecdotes with the timing and sensibility of a stand-up comedian. The podcast (my second chat with him) was fun -- hear what he has to say about reality TV, the audition process and the work that went into his upcoming concert film.
If you're an adult, you've already absorbed whatever this story has to offer (and if you haven't you never will). If you're a kid, you're going to be confused or bored. If you're a really little kid, you're going to have nightmares. From what I can tell the target audience is furries.
The whole thing looks very pretty and the acting is fine, but it's slow as dirt and oddly unmoving. It has the story arc of a 1980s family sitcom episode, which is unsurprising because the book is about 10 sentences long. There's not enough coloring outside the lines to make a movie.
If you see it, I don't think you'll have a bad reaction. You just won't have much of a reaction at all.
Feels Like the First Time
The way I figure it, to become a furry, you'd have to:
1) Be in a social situation where you're in costume.
2) Have that sitution somehow turn sexual.
3) Be chemically impared enough, or had enough trauma in your life, that you're willing to go for it.
4) Enjoy that experience enough to make it an organizing principle for your social life.
And yet they're out there. Keep reaching for that horrifying, perverted rainbow, friends!
1) If George Lopez is "bringing the party back to late night," was there an actual time when late night was a party? The closest thing I can think of is "Arsineo," which was great, but I don't think you can legally wear shoulder pads of that size any longer. I do not understand what is going to make this talk show different. Maybe George will do a line of coke with every guest? And then tell stories about how he messed around on his wife? You know, the one who gave him a kidney.
2) If Wanda Sykes is getting a show, and George Lopez has a show, and NBC has three talk shows, and CBS has two, and ABC has one, plus Ellen and Bonnie Hunt, plus "The Daily Show," "The Colbert Report" and "Chelsea Lately" and podcast talk shows, and all these talk shows have celebrities pimping their TV shows and movies, how come there are very few smash hit shows or movies any longer? Why the hell do peple keep producing MORE TALK SHOWS? And why can't I ever get on even one of these talk shows, huh?
3) If "you" are the star of "Secret Girlfriend," shouldn't you feel bad about being a reprehensible human being? Also, why does your point of view cut to whoever is speaking? Are you having a series of mini-strokes?
4) Knowing how competitive television production is and considering the number of projects that never make it to the screen, what the hell is Comedy Central passing up to put "Secret Girlfriend" on the air?
5) I have never met a single human being of any race, creed or color who likes Joe Buck or the way he announces a game. Every time I'm in a room where a Joe Buck broadcast is on, someone (and not always me) goes out of their way to mention how much they actively dislike Joe Buck. There are five people in America who like Joe Buck (or Joe Morgan), but they're all in the same focus group. That's the only possible explanation.
In mid-September I wandered (jauntily, as is my wont) into a secondhand bookstore and stumbled on a copy of Herbert Hoover's memoirs -- and not one dealing with the boring crap! No, this particular volume didn't have anything about his dull, snoozy time dodging bullets in China or his dull efforts to handle the Great Depression. This volume got right to the fun stuff: the SECRETARY OF COMMERCE YEARS!
It's easy to forget that Hoover was a beloved figure for his humanitarian work during the Great War -- he was arguably the most famous American in the world and seen as an organizational genius. Plus he was a self-made millionaire. The guy had his choice of jobs, and he ended up taking a second-rate Cabinet post. He then proceeded to beat the holy hell out of it, laying down the groundwork for a generation of industrial regulation, labor standards, public resource development and much, much more.
So naturally the book is awful. Hoover was an engineer, and he wrote like one. Every story is compartmentalized by issue, almost completely without humor or the human element and focused relentlessly on results. It's excructiating and you should never ever read it.
But since I did, a few interesting tidbits:
1) Hoover was hand-picked to run flood relief in 1927 for a giant swell moving down the Mississipi. We aren't talking Katrina swells here -- more of a slow-moving flood with a decent lead time. But even when Hoover and his crew showed up in Louisiana, told the locals what might happen, when it might happen and how much damage to expect, no one moved. According to Hoover, the only way they would evacuate was if water was floating their beds, and consequently they spent a lot of time picking people and pets off of roofs. Huh.
2) Speaking at the Hoover Dam as the project neared completion, Hoover estimated that the project would open the West to a population "as large as the state of Maryland." I guess you can't be right all the time.
3) He actually stumped for the end of the 12-hour workday, plus vast improvements in child services and welfare. But he had sincere fear that too much government assistance would strip people of their work ethic and dignity. Good to know we settled all this in the century since.
4) H.H. was instrumental in the development of commercial radio and its regulation, and he actually takes a few paragraphs to comment on the strengths and weaknesses of the medium in regards to propaganda, advertising, the evils of government censorship and the need for restraint from broadcasters. You could swap out the word "radio" in Hoover's critique with TV or Internet and you'd basically have a decent framing of modern media issues. Crazy.
We fancy ourselves to be moving ever-forward. We've achieved a lot since the 1920s. But the terms on which we argue -- debates about human tendencies, the proper role of government and struggles of national character -- are largely the same.
I'm drawing on a lot of expertise here, people -- I've been to two of Jefferson's homes and a roadside marker at his birthplace, PLUS I read a whole entire book about the guy. I'm practically a PhD, so you know my opinion matters.
I Did Go For That
A few months ago I saw "500 Days of Summer," which has a really great sequence set to "You Make My Dreams Come True." I downloaded the song from iTunes and was singing it for about a week. Such terrible actions have consequences: my girlfriend surprised me with Hall and Oates tickets for the 9:30 Club.
The shocking thing, right up front, is that Hall now has the moustache. Oates might be a fine musician, but his contribution to the team was CLEARLY facial hair. He only got to sing two songs during the concert, and they were wedged into the "Hey, we're gonna do stuff no one really likes, but it's too early in the show for you to be antsy, plus you haven't finished your first beer yet, so you are forced to shut up and listen" slot. The moustache was his trump card. It even made up for being 4'8".
But Hall took the moustache away from him! Oates just stands to the side and plays the easier guitar parts while Hall sings, plays guitar and keyboard, AND has a moustache (though it's not as awesome as Oates' was). There's also a wind machine on the floor blowing upward to make Hall's hair do interesting things while he performs. "Chris, do you mean a fan?" No, I mean a wind machine. Fans are for cooling people down. Wind machines are for making you look like you're in an early 1980s music video.
They are good performers (not pitchy at all), but it's not a rockin' show. For all their hits, there's not too much in the Hall and Oates catalog to whip people into a frenzy, especially when many in the audience did not recognize the songs until the lyrics started. I interpret this to mean that either a) they were not serious fans, or b) they were really, really disappointed about the moustache thing. Oh, and Hall started phoning it in after a hour. He quit on anything in a higher register and didn't sustain any notes. And the sax player was one of those guys with a suit and waist-length gray hair (and a receding hairline). That's never good.
But all things considered, I had a fine time, and now I can say that I saw Hall and Oates before I died. That factoid will have an honored place on my tombstone, I'm sure.
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.
August 2009: Jefferson.
Fall 2009: comic interviews on the podcast. 
