bond, more bond

If you missed any of the 3 million showings of the Bond movies that played during the Thanksgiving weekend, you might be able to catch them while they play again this week. They don't play in order or in any special sequence, so don't try to plan your day around when you think you're film is going to show according to which film it is in the series, or where it sits alphabetically. It's a mess, one film you watch will be with Sean Connery Bond, and the next, Timothy Dalton Bond, then Roger Moore Bond, then Pierce Brosnan Bond. Rarely do you see the Lazenby Bond. He's a gift showing.

These marathons are a good deal if you're a big Bond fan or if you haven't seen any of the older films and you want to see every single one of them before you die. There are 20 or so Bond films, depending on who you ask, ( a few are remakes of early Bond films, so I don't know if you can count them) and almost all of them are classics. Everyone has a favorite Bond film, which one it is depends on when you were introduced to the series. My mother and her ilk, came into the Bond game early on and feel that Connery is the best Bond and so they think that "From Russia with Love" or "You only live Twice" is the best film. I came along during the Roger Moore Bond and so I still see him as the original and my favorite Bond film is Octopussy. Today's new Bond fans are all about Pierce Brosnan and I witnessed first hand people chasing him down the street screaming "Mr. Bond" at him.

Where you came into the series and why, has a lot to do with what kind of fan you are. I don't think too many of the people that see a Bond film today are as big of a fan as say, someone who came into the series back in the sixties. A lot of this has to do with the entertainment value of the films in their perspective eras and what Bond meant to the world during that time.

According to old people: Bond represented one of the few options a person had at seeing other parts of the world and watching revolutionary technology for the first, and perhaps, only time. Bond films showed the world off as a two hour advertisement for travel agencies and it also fed a hunger that lived inside of a sci-fi mad group of youngsters that thought a digital watch was pretty amazing and out of the box thinking. Of course, today, you can see any part of the world on any number of channels on your television and there is nothing that can be invented today that we would have a hard time accepting or being excited about. If we see small computers that are injected into our bodies to perform micro-surgery, we are not impressed. It's going to take a lot more than that to get our jaws dropping. Sci-fi has just lost a lot of it's entertainment edge. There was a time when we "couldn't believe it", but now our attitude is, "is that all it can do?" Bond - the early trendsetter and world traveler - has become just another action hero with not so funny puns and an over achieving sex drive for an average looking Brit.

I really pulled for Pierce Brosnan to be the next Bond way back in the 80's when I was watching his television show, Remington Steele. I really thought he would make a better Bond than Moore, but it was not meant to be. He ran into some legal problems and wasn't allowed to do the role and it went a rather odd choice, Timothy Dalton. No one likes to talk about his films in Bond circles. He is sadly just viewed as "necessary until something else came along" and that's all anyone ever says about it. He's actually quite good as an actor and it's sad that his record will be stained with the Bond tag.

The sad truth about Bond is that he better known for his sexual escapades than his detective work. I thought this was odd and I was upset when people brought it up, but then I refreshed my memory by watching the majority of the films over the past seven days and I came to the conclusion that if we didn't have the sex, we wouldn't have a character. I didn't realize how easy his job really is. First, he only gets the cases where the bad guy (almost always a blond man) is just hell bent on destroying part of the world to make money. It's not that blondie needs any money, he's already as loaded as one person can get, they already own islands, massive boats and space stations, so what they need more money for is kinda sketchy. But for some reason, he wants EVEN MORE money. I think he's bored and just looking for something to do with all of the money he already has. Bond gets these cases. The ones where you just have to find the rich blond man with a small army and the best computer system in the world and then kill him. Then bed and kill his girl and his right hand man/butler/driver/masseuse/psychopath. (Bond if fond of killing the super naughty massuese by letting him fall a great distance. This theme reoccurs in most of the films and signals that the climax is near)

Not once has Bond been given the job of actually figuring out a hard case. He isn't asked to piece together cold leads or interview anyone. He just flies to Rome, humps a girl, endangers the lives of those that help him and then drops a bad guy from an extreme elevation and then blow up the bad guy's house... or boat... or mountain... or blimp and gets the praise. Bond, 007, is the K mart of special agents. The rest of the double O's must be fuming that he gets the girls and the glory and they get the leg work and brief cameos which they can only get if they are about to die to thicken a plot. This must really make them mad. Bond, the lowly, gets the glory and they get to fill out paper work.

I don't think in today's world that a Bond film is seen as anything more than just a British soft core porn film ; Not big on story, ugly dudes, hot chicks, lavish settings, funky music and no real money shots. I dare anyone to name the last five Bond films and tell me what their plots were. Can you name the last five porn films and what their plots were?

The next installment of the Bond series sees a drastic change to the series. Bond will be BLOND! Yes. Blond. Sensing that their baby was rotting on the vine, the studio powerful have decided that they need to go back to the beginning and try to restart the franchise with a healthy new look. So, they decided to remake "Casino Royale". The idea with the new film is to show a young Bond in the early days of his career as a special agent, when he used to tell everyone to call him, "Jimmy" and his best pick up line was, "Do you chicks like uncut?" and he only had a license to tease you real bad. Hopefully the film makers will add some spice into the films by making the films funny. I think you can do a lot by mocking the technology that he used back in the 50's and 60's and I think it would be funny to mock the social stereotypes that were so common in those early Bond films. Humor is something that everyone enjoys and I think that, with a little little more love making time on the screen, will help revive this franchise until Colin Ferrell takes it over in 2013.

Oh, if you're watching the Bond marathon, you can play a little number game. Try to calculate how many films will play before the ONE Roger Lazenby film plays. It's like a winning power ball ticket, you are only going to see it if you watch and maybe not even then.

The good ones... Octopussy, Thunderball, Diamonds are Forever, For your eyes only, Goldfinger, Live and Let Die.

The not so good ones... Dalton Bond films and, sadly, all of the Brosnan ones as well.

if paris knew, she'd kill you...

I see them every night. Every night. Big city - small town. Tons of them. Girls - barely over the legal age to be in the bar - milling around, looking for boys, dressed up like a poor-woman's Paris Hilton. They seem to think that with the look will come the popularity - or the success, and sadly, all they get are the lowest forms of boys exalting them. It's truly sad. You get the sense that this is the darkest part of the shadow that is cast by Paris and her friends and somehow these shadow dwellers think they have some equality with their Goddess. These are the people that will put themselves in danger to catch a glimpse of a superstar given the chance. You see them lining up on over packed sidewalks, being crushed by police barriers that are between them and true fame. They will stand in the most extreme weather conditions for hours, for a moment in the presence of their role model. It's amazing... That we let them do it.

I see them almost every night. Young girls without a clue. Believing that they are better people than we see them as. Believing that WE are actually the ones that have no clue and judging US on our social inadequacies. When they have no boy to tell them they how "hot" their tits are, they sit there, staring off into their futures and waiting for it to make it sense. Hoping that one day a Brad Pitt will see in them what he sees in Angelina. I mean, what does she have that they don't? (other than a firm grasp on world geography and genetic sexuality?)

You want to hug them (or hit them) and tell them that it's all wrong. You want to tell them that the path they are walking down doesn't have a glorious ending, but you know they wouldn't listen. There is nothing you can tell a youngster that will sink in. They feel like they know the deal and sadly, it will take them as long as it took you, or longer, to figure out that they don't. It's then that they can sit down and look at younger people the way you do now and shake their heads in amazement. There is just nothing anyone can do to end this cycle.

The song "changes" by David Bowie speaks of adults trying to speak to young adults and those young adults being immune to their consultation as they are aware of what they are going through. If this was true, then I think we would see less of this behavior or it means that we are all in serious trouble and we should elect Paris Hilton our next President. (she can't do any worse than our present one) I think David's words carried some weight several generations ago, but is less true in modern times. I don't think today's "youth" has any clue what is happening to them. If they did, I don't think they would, "like" be "so totally" excited about Ms. Hilton. "right?"

It's been theorized that what we see is actually part of a bigger plan by evil, male chauvinists that want to see a return to submissive roles for women. This is how it's supposed to work...

Men create an environment where they will they will only accept women based on their looks and all other attributes will be completely overlooked.

Women will then scramble to be one of the few women in the front of the pack, in order to receive the most attention. This will create a competitive environment where women will work against each other and thus destroy any chance they have of furthering this "equality" baloney, which only seems to inspire ugly clothes and conversations.

Women will only be allowed to stay at the top of the pack for a short time and then sent to the bottom of the pack in order to create confusion and doubt in their minds, thus creating a greater need for male acceptance to cure their pain, and a deeper sense of combativeness amongst women.

In order to maintain this cycle, it's important that the next generation of men not be worthy of challenging older males, so it's important that all they have to offer is youth. According to the plan, they should also be taught to be more aggressive, less restrained, and rude. Thus making them even less attractive options for the older, wiser, sexier women, and to make sure that they can continue the evil cycle with the women within their own age group.

---

If you think this is bullshit, I ask you to step inside your local school, local bar or local library... If you have one. There you will see the evil plan in action. You will see fewer youngsters in the library, but that's an important part of the plan. The ones you see in schools, bars and shopping areas are the affected. But, there are a few that get away. Those youngsters not trying to mimic a celebrity and are dressed rather "un-celebrity" are actually trying a different approach but are actually the same model of youth just with a shorted out wire. They too are part of the plan. They are used as examples to the other girls to show what can happen... Those youngsters that grow up to be the truly worthwhile individuals are... Hidden elsewhere. Making a life free of such bullshit.

It's hard to see these people every night. It's even harder to talk to them. It's amusing to listen to their big dreams, but it's odd to listen to them without wanting to result to violence. I do, however, enjoy seeing my evil plan come to pass... (insert wicked cackle here) They only thing that can be done to stop my evil plan is... A parent license law. Put an end to senseless breeding and we will see less free range stupid roaming around in the domestic jungle.

invisible footprints

All things of beauty are born of pain. There is nothing that we know as beautiful that doesn't have some a root that grows out of a torturous soil. ALL things. Babies are beautiful, but their birth isn't a back massage. All forms of art that we see and experience were created from hours of toil and strife in the artist's life. Beauty, it would seem, is the reward for a struggle and we appreciate it on a sliding scale which is determined by the price that is paid for it in human suffering.

I have been touring for most of the last decade. It's not been a solid 10 years of week to week touring, but sometimes it can feel that way. This recent trip puts me on the comedy trail roaming around post-Christmas Washington state, seeking out comedy enlightenment amid the glow of dated Christmas lights that are in desperate need of coming down. It's sounds a bit bitter, I know, but truely I am in heaven and love what they are doing for me.

After the holiday rush is over and the systematic urge to say, "Merry Christmas" is over, all we are left with is a few burned out Christmas lights and a mound of wrapping paper in our garbage cans to remember what happened in Bethleham, 2005 years ago. I'm pretty sure that Mary would really love that fact. So would her son. (even though he has up staged her efforts on this holiday.. traditionally) You could easily get lost in the depressive nature of it all or you can find a new celebration in the refuse of the holiday hype. A man in my position that is found driving all over the backroads of America is treated to a "silenter" night than any of the nights leading up to the big selfish-fest. A sea of glowing, blinking reds and blues. Lights dancing across the roof tops and around fence lines. Trees filled with multi-colored bulbs that seem to be suspended in mid air as the tree disappears into the nighttime darkness. There is a beauty to it all, just for a few days. I know that it wasn't easy for those people to put up those lights and I can appreciate their efforts. I know the motivation isn't for pleasing a lone comic driving past the house, but I can believe it is.

These shows that mark the terminal of my daily travel are becoming a blur and I am trying desperately not to think of them as just money as that is what made me leave the road in the past. I want to think that there is a beauty to what I am doing and that everywhere I go, something like accidental Christmas light appreciation, is being experienced. Sometimes you can do a show and everyone loves it and there is nothing but praise and love for you as you leave the stage and make your way to... to... well, nowhere. After a show, it's just done. All you can do is just wait out the night and make another move the next day. Then it's on to another town to try and duplicate the success of the night before. You can try and bask in the glow of your success, but rarely is it as fulfilling as you want it to be. Most of the time I suck at letting people know that I am thankful for their appreciation. I really try, but I hear it come out of my mouth and I know if I had said something wonderful to someone and it was met with what I said, I would feel pretty cheated. It's a vicious cycle that I see quite often.

Of course, it's better than having a terrible show and wanting to rip your eyes out. Not only were you a failure, but you traveled a long way to be a failure and the only relief is a good show that may or may not be in the next town. If the crowd will part for you after a good show, it's not going to flinch when you walk by after a bad one. There is nothing like having the label of persona non grata in a bar full of angry drunks. A bad show is almost enough inspiration to leave town without getting paid and without gathering up your luggage. I would like to say there is a beauty in all of this, but there isn't. I know that the beauty will come from the lessons I learn and what this will motivate me to do in the future. There, and only there will the beauty be found in this moment.

For all of these great shows and bad shows and countless hours of driving, there is going to be a moment when someone sees my show and is overwhelmed by it. They will get a moment of joy and see a beauty in it that I have never known myself. It's then that all the struggle will be worth it. They will never see the amount of pain that was endured to bring it to them, they will only know the moment we shared and I hope I have the ability to express my gratitude for their appreciation.

For all beauty there is a pain. For every holiday cheer there are holiday tears. For every laugh riot there is a deadly silence of people that do not get the joke and want you to know that not only do they do not get it, but they don't even want to try. For every house that is lit up on my way, there is a house that is dark. And for every painful step toward a dream-laden future, there is someone that is willing to carry you away on their shoulders.

QUESTIONS OF THE WEAK christmas edition - part two

What's with the hat?

The hat is a brown fedora. Felt. And it's very comfy. I can't say that there is anything "with it" but it's damn sexy and a good thing to have in inclimate weather. I recommend them to everyone. If you're going to Asia it will make you look very Aussie, which can help you get waited on in restaurants.

Were you the kid with the dart board?

No. As I said before, it was another kid in the class, but I don't know how. Odd that I should remember only that moment in our time together, but that's all I can.

What did you do for your birthday?

I spent most of the time at Marcus' house and then I went to Yuk Yuk's to do a show. There was no parade, no orgy and no elephants. Just a lonely man who got a year older without any fanfare. It was heavenly.

You talk about moving to Canada and then you talk about how good it feels to get home, which is right?

Both. I love Canada and can see myself there in a short time, that has nothing to do with where I am now. Home is home, whether its the first day you move in or the day you move out. It's still home. It takes a transitionary period to transfer that sentiment from one place to another. Usually the moment is found when you look back through the door one last time before you leave and travel to the new destination. Until that day, the Forgottens will still be home. But Canada is on the horizon.

How do you feel about the rest of the holidays on the American calendar?

I write about each one as they come and go. Perhaps you can look back and see my posts about St. Pats, Fourth of July, Halloween, Easter and Valentines. As we sit on the doorstep of New Years, I have only this to say - make sure you have the stamina to stay up late so you can kiss someone... I think that's the only tradition there. Somehow that means a New Year has started.

When are you coming back to Kelowna?

I am working on dates with the Yuk Yuks people for a tour in late May-early June and hope to see Kelowna on that schedule. I can't say for sure when that will be, but that's what I would like. I am scheduled to make an early return to Canada in the next few weeks to argue a speeding ticket in Fernie. It's not as sexy as Kelowna, or funny, but it's my next visit.

When are you going to write about your sexual past?

I realize that there is a lot of referrence to my past but I try not to include names in my posts that would only be here because they slept with me. I don't think they were aware that they would be signing on for that and so I don't want to abuse the memory in that way. However, if you have a specific question, go ahead and ask and I can use Alphabet names again.

Would you quit writing the blog if you moved?

No. It just wouldn't be called the color commentary from the forgotten mountains. It would be saucy talk from blah blah blah. Maybe I'll just hold a contest and you can name the new blog. I will continue to write it as long as there is access to a computer.

Did you know that all major holidays are stolen from Pagan celebrations?

No, I knew some of them were, but I didn't know that Fourth of July, Cinco De Mayo, Labor Day, Memorial Day, Boxing Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Black History Month and National Secretary Week were fomer Pagan celebrations... What did we change?

What is your wrist shot?

I have several. One of them is communication and the other is humor. I can't say that either is really note worthy or going to land me an endorsement deal with Nike, but they seem to work for those that meet me. However, I have noticed that I am a lot quieter lately. I guess I need to find another one. Perhaps I could be the greatest UNO player in the world and don't know it yet. Perhaps.

I was at your show in Calgary and I want to know if you would really sleep with a 14 year old?

WELL, not in Calgary... Thailand... maybe. I don't know... what's the law there?

What does BDSM stand for?

Bondage. Domination. Sadist. Masochism. OR Big Dicks Small Mice. OR Baking Dough Stewed Meat. Or Bring Down Socialized Medicine. Or What ever else you would like. It's the more intense form of sexual activity. Bigger sexual experience.


AND YES.... THAT'S IT!!! For some reason I thought there were more questions, but I was wrong. Either I lost some of the questions or I read the emails wrong and thought there were more, but I guess that's it. Nothing severe this time, nothing really telling. I guess you guys are trying to take it easy on me and I appreciate it.

Back to a normal world.

QUESTIONS OF THE WEAK- christmas edition part one

Was Sancho funny?

He had his moments. Mostly he did Latino jokes for a mostly non-latino crowd and that rarely goes over well. He tried hard and we did make a mark on most of the crowds, but mostly he suffered. I think the stress got to both of us and it affected his show quite a bit.

Do you still talk to Sancho Ponchi?

Yes, we have exchanged a few emails and have yet to let go of what we went through together. I grew to enjoy Sancho and I think we will continue to talk for a long time.

Did you try dog while you were in Japan?

Japan doesn't eat dog, Korea does. But, no I didn't. I did see places where you could. It was expensive. $400.00 a plate.

What was the best part about Asia?

It wasn't America. I have seen America and it was time to see another part of the world. There is a general excitement that comes with traveling to some place you have never been and even if it looks just like your own home, it feels differently and so therefore, is very exciting. Coming in a close second - the food. Third - it was a free trip.

Did you have jet lag coming home?

Yes. It was dreadful. It took a better part of my trip to Canada to overcome it. I was sleeping irradically and I couldn't concentrate on anything. How I was able to write this blog at all was a mystery.

Did you get what you wanted for Daniel Day?

Yes. I did. The day came and went and I lived to see the other side of it. I hope that everyone enjoyed it as much as I did.

Why an elephant?

How dare you insult the great elephant of Daniel Day. He works hard for you. It's not hard to be an elephant that only gets to rampage one day a year and that's a lot of ground to cover in one day. Santa only has the benefit of flying reindeer, poor Ganesh has to do it all on foot and he's not the best swimmer.

Are you scared of dying?

No, not really. It happens to us all and I have done quite a bit to leave a lasting legacy behind. It may not be the legacy that parents want for their children, but it will last a while and that makes me happy. I guess you could say that I'm not looking forward to the whole, not breathing thing, but it shouldn't last too long.

Did the Divinyls really steal the song from you?

Uhhhhhhh.... yes. Perhaps you should read another blog. You're bringing down the flock with questions like that.

What was in the sausages in the photo?

I have no idea. I never ate one, asked about one or touched one. I can say that they were not moving which is more than I can say for most of the food that was for sale in that market.

What is with your outfit? (in the photos)

It was cold. I was wearing everything I had to keep warm. The chill in Korea is beyond any kind of chill that I ran into in Canada or in my time in Bemidji, Minnesota. It's just cold there. I think it comes from an elaborate plan by the North Koreans to freeze out their southern neighbors and then take over the penisula.

What did you say to the kids in Nagasaki?

I didn't say much. I spent most of the time trying to find a friendly face in which I could express my sentiments. Sancho hid from me and the rest of the parents just tried to smile and not say a thing. I eventually just started calling them, "little c*#ts" which worked for me.

What was the best part about your trip?

Exploring some place new.... and getting paid for it. It was very much like the early days of comedy touring when I would get excited by going to a new town or a new part of my own country.

So which part of the alphabet did you sleep with?

None of them. The letters of the alphabet escaped.

all i want for christmas

I have already received quite a few great gifts from my readership and I want to thank you all for the sentiment. I enjoy the presents, but appreciate your efforts much more. For the rest of you that didn't care to send anything... Kiss my ass, you cheap bastards! WHAT? After all my writing and suffering to bring this to you, you can't take ten minutes and wrap up a gift for me? Worthless slugs...

Of course, I really don't mean that, but it's the best manifestation of what we all truly feel when it's our turn to get some gifts and we don't feel we got what we deserve. How often have you been shorted on the gift exchange program? Have you ever bought someone a great gift and received some cheap, meaningless gift in return? You can't show your displeasure in front of them so you try to convince yourself that it's "the thought that counts" so they won't see your displeasure. But inside, you're truly pissed off. Because, IT IS the thought that counts and apparently the thoughts involved with this gift were cheap, meaningless and uninspired.

In my days, I have seen some weak presents, mostly because of where my birthday lies in conjunction with Christmas. I have spoken of this before and I don't want to rehash this, but for those people that do go the distance and buy a gift for me for each occasion, I find that most of them short me on the quality compared to those that stack up the generosity and make it one big present. (this is also a shafting, but I'm used to it) I can't really win and never will unless I start celebrating my birthday on June 8th. This should allow everyone to save up for six months before purchasing my big gift. Then I will see the gift-peace that I have so long desired.

I know that I am not the only one on the ass-end of the gift exchange and I know that every single one of you can recall that gift "shorting" you endured and are thinking that as you shop for that gift-shorter this season. If they are going to buy you a movie theater gift certificate good for one movie and a half, then you're going to get them a gift certificate at a Denny's - good for a small dessert or side salad.

The most commonly given shit gift is food. Candy canes, M&M's, Lifesaver "books", cakes, cookies, brownies... They all suck as presents. (Unless you're starving, then it's very fitting.) Normally food would be an excellent idea, but ever since people started to deliver food to sick people and to relatives of the recently departed and to bake sales - food has taken a nose dive in overall value. If it's good enough for a wake, then it's not good enough for a birthday or Christmas present. If you're going to give someone a cheese or jelly sampler, then you need to THINK about what you're doing and how it's going to affect your relationship with that person. Because next year, you're going to get used socks from that person.

The second most commonly given shit gift is the gag gift. The funny - ha - ha gift. This is funny to the gift giver and seen as a slight by the gift receiver. Gag gifts are funny - once. Then they become a wasted opportunity and junk that has to be stored somewhere in your world. There are drawers full of gag gifts in everyone's world. They are never going to rot as they are made like nothing else in the universe and will be here long after the earth has blown up into a zillion little pieces. Amid the debris will be the gag gifts floating near by.

Add up the total number of people you know that might give you a present. Then subtract ten percent for various variables that can come into play. Now single out the few people on that list with some true money and the ones that really, really, really like you. These are the best shots you have at a great gift. The rest of your total you can assume that you'll get some second hand gift item or easily disposed of gift. You're gettin' hosed and you know it. You know this and you actually shop for them the same way they are shopping for you - with pre-scorn in the heart.

You have a limited number of presents coming to you every season. This means that like in baseball, you only have a few shots at a home run and every time someone drops a gag gift, or food, or a gift certificate, then you are adding up the strikes. This season doesn't come along every week, so it's important to gain as much "worth" as you can while the gettin's good - Cars, jewels, money, electronics, homes, trips - that kind of thing. Those are the home runs and will continue the circle of life.

(And so are pretty painted pictures by children. You know, the ones with glitter glued on them. Those are great. Cheap kids...)

get your christmas cookie

Holiday sex has more pressure and anticipation attached to it than any other sexual experience one person will see in their life other than, maybe, the wedding night. And to give you an idea of how stressful that night of whoopie is, most people... don't do it. Wedding tradition lost. Too much stress, too much booze. The most mentally, physically and spiritually satisfying thing you want to do is sleep. This is a modern world and you have probably slept with your new spouse for months or years before this moment and it's not that big of a deal. I'm sure that fifty years ago it might have been a thing, but today - not so much.

But holiday sex is different. It really doesn't have a specfic reason to be special, but it just seems to be that way. Society helps add to the stress by looking down on you if you don't have a date for Valentine's day, New Year's eve or National oral sex day. Society has also tried to stack the deck with some underhanded methods of increasing the sexual behavior - Mistletoe. Revealing (and acceptable) Halloween costumes, Pinching someone who is not wearing green on St. Patrick's day - these are all norms that we don't even think about as sexual, but they are. No one is going to kiss the leper under the mistletoe. You have to be selective, which is the same kind of selective as your sexuality.

Each holiday has it's own lingerie and each holiday has it's own sexual innuendos. It's not uncommon to hear comments like, "I'll come down your chimney. he-he-he!" or "Make me see fireworks!" or "I'll stuff your turkey". There are Ms. Santa garters, bras and matching hats. Every Halloween costume that a grown woman wears is a step above a stripper outfit. Everyone loves to increase that pressure until the nighttime rolls around and most people stumble in the gates. The most common reason we stumble is pure exhaustion. The holiday can just take too much out of us and leave us with little or no energy to do anything at the end of the day. The fourth of July is just one loooooong day and to get laid at the end of it is near impossible.( And that's only if you don't have a sunburn.) Halloween sex is great if you can find your lover under all those layers of unfamiliar, foul smelling fabric. (I'm not sure why it stinks, but I know it does) Christmas or Thanksgiving sex has to be a quickie in a bathroom during the middle part of the day when your whole family is just a awkward knock on the door away. You could do it later, but at the end of the day the amount of food still floating around in your stomach is just too overwhelming to allow for any real acrobatic humping.

The one lone stand out for a great night of holiday whoopie is New Year's eve. If you don't drink too much and you make it to the end of the night, there is a sense of desperation in the air as everyone is running around looking for someone to screw. Which makes the odds of finding some, dip a bit more to your favor. The only problem here is that it's after midnight and the best sex starts before midnight. After midnigh,t you are looking at a partner who is only at 60 percent of their best. Before midnight allows for more time to get into things, take your time, screw with a purpose and some time to sleep so you can do it again before the mad dash to the door begins. On New Year's eve, there is no mad dash for the door and people actually rest up for the day and save energy for the night. By the time that ball of lights hits Time's Square, people are already getting it on. It's the only holiday that says, "You have to kiss someone". If you don't, according to ancient Peruvian mythology, you'll die. So New Year's is the holiday to get it on.

Unless you're single.

Then it's the fourth saddest day of the year. (Birthday - one, Valentine's - two, Christmas - Three). The amount of depression floating around in the air is so great that you can feel it sticking to your clothes. It's that bad. For some reason holidays, celebrations and parties are the single biggest cause of depression in the known universe. It's life's great irony.

For all those left behind again this holiday season I say this, don't fret. You may not have "one" person to kiss on the New Year moment, but you do have millions of others. You have options that other people don't. Most of the people that do have a "one" are wishing it was another "one" and have just had to settle on this "one" because it was all they could find. They wish they were you! AND, take this to the bank, you may not be getting laid, but at least your not getting laid badly.... How many sexual experiences do we look back on and wish we hadn't wasted the time? Lonely people are saved from this emotional scar. Those New Year's party goers think they are going to get the best of the best and find out that booze slightly deadens key components of the sex drive and makes the sex a farce.

Enjoy the holidays in your own way. I say that we should fear the holidays and be forced into a full day of fasting and prayer. No talking. No lights. Nothing. Just let the day past. Show your true dedication to the holiday and don't take advantage... As soon as the day passes. Fuck someone's brains out.

enough paper

Oh my how the forgottens have changed. There is a thick layer of permanent snow covering every open inch of ground and a thick fog bank has obscured the view of the peaks in the distance. You can sense the joy of winter on it's first official day here in the forgottens and everyone that can is up enjoying their slopes, if only for a few hours. It's not as cold here as it has been for the past few weeks, but the sentiment of winter remains. Cocoa is good, dry gloves are good. Snot dripping from you cold nose is bad. That's winter time and the shortest day of the year is even shorter with the heavy fog blocking out the distant sun. From here on out, each day will be a bit longer, a bit brighter and a bit more tolerable on the skin. Less snot, more tee shirts.

Around town, the major buzz is all the last minute this-or-that shopping and it's weird to watch. It's nice to know that some of these people finally found some extra money and it's weird to see people that rarely buy things, go at it with a fury. The ski hill has been open for three weeks and there is money in everyone's pockets around here and they are trying to spend it all before the holiday arrives. Funny, but none of them really have smiles on their faces. They are running around, being generous, and none of them look happy about it. In my mind, the only reason I can see for feeling this way is that ONE - They are buying presents for people they don't like and can't seem to rationalize the expenditure. Or TWO - they are concerned about how they are going to wrap the presents they purchased. Funny how those two issues can carry weight in your mind.

At my third grade Christmas party, a young kid that never really made a mark on my memory for anything in particular, brought to school his entry into the open gift Christmas party pool. The other children had brought well wrapped boxes or neatly packaged items that were indistinguishable upon inspection, but this young boy had gotten it all wrong and had just grabbed his dart board off the wall and casually wrapped it up with paper and two full rolls of tape. The package was round, flat and was ripping at all the awkward corners. He didn't seem to care whether or not you could tell what it was, it was obvious what it was and it was made even more apparent by the wire mesh on the dart board poking through the paper, which he used to "hang" his present on the wall with. He hadn't tried to disguise a thing.

During the lottery to see which kid got to go first, second and so on, he drew the fifth place spot and actually took back his own gift in a move that shocked us all. That is not how it is supposed to happen and I'm sure there was some kid that was just dying to get a hold of that dart board. Especially if it was the one that had the baseball-dart game on the back side. Apparently this kid had been visited by the Gods, who had told him to sacrifice his most precious possession and if he did he would be rewarded. So I guess he took that dart board, wrapped it up in the disgusting way that he did so no one would take it and when he saw his chance, he brought his prize possession back home. His reward... Unwrapping the tape to find that his old dart board was still his. I'm sure he was incredibly blissful that night and the Gods was a bit put out. I don't remember that kid's name or what happened to him. Perhaps the Gods smot him for his act of insolence.

Wrapping presents isn't easy and I would say that it borders on an artform. The delicate nature of the paper, the cutting of straight lines, the proper application of tape in the right places - it's all very difficult. You have to be careful not to cut the paper to short and ruin the dimensions. Thus leaving an open window for the person to see inside the wrapping and figure out what it is. You have to make sure you don't leave too much paper, which will leave a wad of paper at the end that is impossible to tape down. I know some people that know how to match up the paper folds so that you don't ruin the pattern in the paper, that's a true talent. You could almost say that the perfect wrapping IS the gift. Which could explain why so many women delicately unwrap presents. Either they are studying to see how it was done or they want to keep the paper as the gift.

For the cheaters and the less talented they have created gift bags. Decorative bags made out of wrapping paper that only require that you place your item inside them and then cover them with tissue paper. It's the most unexciting method of gift opening, but it does make it handy to take that present and throw it away later if you don't like it.

Of course, if you're completely inept you can just give the present to someone without wrapping it at all. This is never exciting. When someone gives someone a car, they have a bow put on it because.. People like to open things! I have never given anyone a car and I'm not sure that the bow is really what is exciting them and making them jump up and down in the bitter cold, but it might be.

I'm sure many of you have gifts to buy and things to arrange and I know that many of you have family issues to address so through the holiday I will understand if your emails are a bit more tinged with rage than normal.

Give me shit!

welcome back and merry CHRISTmas

Returning home from Canada is always weird and I never really feel "home" by the seeing my house, Heidi or speed limit signs at are MPH. That used to work, but now what usually signals my return is some American and their behavior that reminds me that I am no longer among Canadians. Usually it's when I try to use Canadian money and someone laughs at me or when I see a news broadcast that tells me the world is stable and Pro-American. I see these things and I am sent crashing back into an American reality that wipes the slate clean.

On this trip home, everywhere I stopped someone had to yell, "Merry CHRISTmas" at me. Emphasizing the Christ part as if they were waving a flag to let me know which side of the recent debate they're on. I was not aware that specific holiday greeting usages were such a hot button issue to debate as I have never seen it before and didn't think it was possible to actually debate it. It baffles me that it would get this kind of press or notice or dialogue at all, I only heard about it briefly while I was in Canada and thought it was just a passing story and not really something that would fuel a firestorm of controversy. I guess I underestimated my country. Apparently "happy holidays" the secular form of good cheer to express to anyone you meet, has become the new terrorist that needs eradicating. There seems to be a huge movement to keep Christmas... Christian. I am baffled. The last thing Christmas is, is Christian.

Driving into the country every gas station attendant, normally the least interesting people of the day, were being pretty uppidity over Christ and wanted to make sure that you knew they were PRO Jesus. I guess there has been some boycotting of businesses that aren't using Jesus as a marketing tool and the normally PRO-business republican/quasi-Christians are asking their brain dead, taking-"sheep"-as-a-literal-translation-as-a-way-to-live-life-and-get-into-Heaven constituents to STAY AWAY from businesses that don't have Jesus in their aisles. (Another reason in a the long list of hypocrisies and ironies to add to the justification of why we should selectively thin the herd from time to time) SO, the sheep have actually stayed away from businesses that don't see Jesus as lord. They are really, really worked up over this and it's shocking. WOW! I guess Santa's list is going to be pretty thin this year.

Of course, this is the holiday where all kinds of debates can be raised. For the most part, this holiday is just the "Pagan" celebration of the winter solstice, a holiday (holy day) that uses a fertile tree as it's center piece. Thousands of years later, the Jews added presents and candles to the festivities and then the Christians came along and added blinking lights and a fat man from the North Pole. I'm not sure where in the bible that fat man gets mentioned or where the part comes in about gifts, trees, carols, stockings, flying reindeer, Santa's use of "magic" to slip down chimneys, or the presence of "elves", but you don't want to argue these points with a by-the-book Christian. This is Jesus's birthday and they are going to party. Cause that's what Jesus would do. Even though he was Jewish and was not big on dolling out the gifts. It's been said that Jesus was pretty cheap and was always mooching smokes of his buddies. (side note: Santa isn't Jewish either, he's Norwegian, a notoriously stingy, non festive bunch. So be cautious of old Scandinavians that hang out with "elves" and live in the middle of nowhere and want to give children gifts for being "good".... It's sounds like the M.O. of a pedophile to me.)

Merry CHRISTmas! No, my friend - Happy holidays. I don't know you and you don't know me. I don't believe in your little world and you don't believe in mine. Let's play nice and just agree to do what we want without blood shed. When you are behind your door, celebrate whatever holiday you wish on whatever day you wish, any way you wish and I will do the same. Holiday Salutations are not an issue worthy of debate. The president spying on his own people is a real issue. You... You're foolishness is making it possible for people to fuck with me and get away with it, so pay attention. Otherwise I will burn down your Wal Mart and build a library on it's ashes and then what will you do? I am not one to trifle with.

I hope we don't see this kind of behavior carry over to Easter time. How are we ever going to settle THAT debate? If you don't know already, it's another Pagan celebration, this one - the spring fertility celebration, complete with "EGGS" and "HORNY BUNNIES" that symbolize new life and a new beginning (which is just like spring... Unless you're in the southern hemisphere where it's all death and decay in the spring time). Somehow this has come to represent Jesus "coming back to life", in the minds of the by-the-book, PRO business republican/quasi-Christians. And, again.... It's on another Jewish holiday... so I guess we are going to see a lot of blood stained pastels.

You shouldn't have to say anything at this time of year. It doesn't matter what you believe in or what you want to do with your late December. This should be a time of year when you are looking for reasons to get together with old friends and make new ones. It's not a time of year where you should be looking for reasons to hate even more people. I think we have enough reasons for that. You shouldn't even need a time of year, you should be out there making whoopee with everyone all the time. People in Africa don't even say, "Christmas", nor do the people in Germany, Japan, India, Palau, Russia, Argentina or Peru. Should we hate them and boycott them for not using the proper AMERICAN-ENGLISH pronunciation? Should we hate the people in the southern hemisphere for not cutting down a tree? What about the people that live in the parts of the world where there is no pine? Should we bomb them for not getting into the spirit? Should we put a trade embargo on every country that doesn't acknowledge Christmas as the birth of Jesus?

From now on I'm just going to say, "Give me shit!", I think that sums up the true sentiment of Christmas. That's pretty universal across all the major religions around the world. "Give me shit! It's the end of December!"

Ho-Ho-Ho.

coda

The microphone has grown cold and the spotlights have been turned off. The bellowing sound of Canadian laughter is still ringing in my ears as I again drive south towards home. I have done over thirty shows in two months and I finally got into a groove with my show that made me feel good. I was able to do a full hour of clean and a full hour of dirty and I think I can take that confidence to Montreal if I just stick to my guns and pay attention to detail. I'm amazed that it took so long to get back into the groove, but I guess a lot of the delay can be blamed on travel sickness. It was just too much in a short amount of time. Well over 15,000 miles in two months.

I head home now. Seeking something that will also require some time to get back in touch with. I need to find those steps that make being at home so worthwhile. I am ready to feel that comfort again. I am ready to feel the words in my fingers as I type these posts in comfortable and familiar surroundings. I am ready to find my clothes in a closet. I am ready to walk on familiar pathways. I am ready to open the right cabinet to find a plate and get it right the first time.

Just as soon as I can, I want to start organizing the coming year. There are big plans in the making and I need to make sure that I can make them all work together for a beneficial and comfortable future for everyone involved. Canadian move? New American clubs? European tour? A return of production work? Things are afoot.

I guess my internal timing couldn't be better for this sort of organizing. It is that time of year when you are supposed to start making resolutions and preparing to make them come true. For one lucky soul on the planet, everything is going to work out perfectly, for another, it's going to be pure misery. The identities of these people will have to be discovered and played out in the new year. I think we can look back on this year and say that Micheal Jackson started out having a bad year and then ended up having a good year. Bush started out with a bad year and it only got worse. Cindy Sheehan started out having a quiet year and turned out to be loudest person of the year. (sadly, she was the front runner for best year, but then turned into an idiot and is now the best political puppet of the year... Ironically, she beat out Bush, the six time champion) Peter Jackson started out having a great year and ended with a great year, so he certainly qualifies as a front runner for this year's prize. I started out with a middle of the road year and then I swerved off the road and now I'm in a field. The person of the year - the bull verses the bear - is quite the honor for history to bestow upon someone. Perhaps it will be one of you - my dearest readership. ( I say dear because readership is down to half of what it was in the summer... I guess you don't dig the "invasion" series or perhaps you want the return of Questions of The Weak.)

Next year, the sun will shine bright, the rain will fall, birds will sing, babies will be born and people will pass on. It will be a whole other game when the calendar rolls into '06 and the only thing I know for certain is that I won't be in the Forgottens by summer time. I will have to leave my perch and find a new one. I need to find a new nest in a new tree and find new cars on which to poop on. Possibilities are being thrown around but the fact of the matter is that I have no idea which one will work out the best just yet. It's annoying because these things take a lot of planning.

As the show curtain falls on another year and the audience gets up to leave... Backstage... A new show is being created.

the invasion of Canada

Episode #10

wrist shot

In the game of hockey, there are several effective ways to put a puck in the net. One is the well known and well loved slapshot. It's big, it's bad and it makes the audience roar. It contains power and speed, but lacks control. It's not an easy shot to take because it requires time to set up the shot and take it. In that time, an opposing player can disrupt the shot in any number of ways. So it's snappy looking, but a long shot.

There is also the backhand - which is a finesse shot and requires position, timing and luck to be effective. It's hard to set up, and it's not as sexy as the slapshot, but it's just as effective and if it works, the crowd loves it.

There is also the deflection - a skill shot that is responsible for the majority of all goals scored in Hockey. It is usually found at the end of another type of shot that isn't working and somehow fate redirects the puck off of some other entity and into the net. It's not sexy at all, but the people don't care. A goal is a goal.

The game of hockey has one real talent and it's what makes one ice skater a figure skater and another an NHL All star. The wrist shot. It's not a visible effort that you can see from the stands or on television because it happens so fast that it looks like the player is just smacking the puck with his stick, but if you slow down the action you can see that there is a definite flip of the wrist that directs the puck, with a great amount of control, towards the net. It's beautiful and one of the most difficult things I have ever tried to do. The effort to make one happen is a lot like the effort that it takes to open a stubborn can of peanut butter. Of course, peanut butter jars won't get you an NHL contract, but it's just as tasty.

Life is full of wrist shots. Most of them time we run that talent into the ground from over use. It's a defining characteristic of our personality and we need it so we can feel better about ourselves. Through out your life you will be offered new chances to discover new "wrist shots" and if they work, they can be all the motivation we need to send our lives in a new direction. I can remember a time in my early twenties when I learned that I could bowl rather well and I found myself bowling three times a week for two months. I came to my senses and went on living, but for a while, I thought I would always be a bowler.

Everyone has these shifts. They create the dynamics of personal interest that make people want to know us. There are those that never see these shifts and these are the dull, uninspiring people that you can't stand to talk to or know. They are either without a wrist shot of their own or they have one wrist shot and they never try to find another one.

It's time for a new wrist shot for me. I have been slinging slapshots for the past two months and I need some time to rediscover the talent that brought me here in the first place. It's time for me to reconnect to my roots and replenish myself before I head out into a new direction. A major move is coming and I need to make sure that I have all my shots in working order.

The tour ends with a quiet night in Vernon, British Columbia and then it's the long drive hom.......

the invasion of Canada

Episode #9

that which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger

I have said it before and I will say it again, nature... wants to kill you. It realizes that it had to let you into the world, but that doesn't mean it has to let you stay. It is working hard each and every day to remove you from the masses for no other reason than it has nothing else better to do. As a species, we have learned how to foil much of nature's greatest attempts - weather, poison, predators, gravity - and we have thrived in our accomplishments and overcome, or learned how to deal with, most of the methods of mother nature's blood lust. There are still some moments where she gets lucky and catches one of us off guard, but I think we can just play those off as sacrifices for a greater good. ( I will admit to have being fascinated by someone getting hit by lightning and dying - how odd is that?)

What is troubling is our own species making attempts to kill off one another. It's not enough that we have to worry about floods, lightning, mudslides, tsunamis, high winds, earthquakes, killer bees, killer penguins (oh yes, it's true, they're rare, but deadly!) Now we have to concern ourselves with death from the other passengers in the lifeboat. And I am not talking about the guns, knives, premeditated murder stuff, I am talking about the cruelty and the inhumanness of modern, cheap over the counter medicines.

In Canada there is a nationalized system of health care that works for some and fails the rest. It's a great idea and you wish you could see it work as it makes sense to have this sort of system in place in every country. Everyone gets health care, just for being here and that's good. Sadly, the offerings for reasonable health care are slim and most people are left to their own devices to cure themselves for most problems. In this country that commonly sees well-below-zero temperatures, getting sick is pretty much a given. Canadians, ( a sub group of the species) have learned to adapt to their surroundings and not let mother nature take them quietly. When you get a cold in Canada, you really have a COLD, and it can be deadly. The Canadian health care system, for all of it's best intentions, kills more people than it helps. This could explain why a country that is three times the size of America, has only 33 million people. Canadians, having watched many of their countrymen and women die foolishly, have invented some rather interesting methods of self preservation. They really had no choice in the matter, it was either get sick and die in the waiting room of the hospital or figure out some way to cure the problem at home. They strike at the problem with a serious one-two punch - Fisherman's friend cough drops and Buckley's coffee syrup. If there was ever a way to measure the strength of a society, it should be in the things that they put in their body to make it stronger. Fisherman's friend cough drops are the most potent cough drop in the world and are the equivalent of putting a whole axle seltzer tablet in your mouth and just skipping the step where you put it in water first. It's harsh, but effective and it has changed the dialect of Canadian English to what we know it as today. If you had a tickle in your throat before, there's no doubt that you will not have that tickle after you swallow one of these, however, there is slight chance that you won't have parts of your throat. Buckley's, on the other hand, is pure evil - liquidified. It shouldn't be legal and I would imagine its being used in Cuba to interrogate prisoners of war. It's bad. Effective - but bad. The best way to describe this elixir is to say, "liquid air freshener". It's pure pine forest magic. Just one spoonful and every foreign body in your system is destroyed. I'm sure parts of your internal organs go with them, we'll never know as no one has ever taken enough of this stuff to see. The mix of both Fisherman's friend and Buckleys could most likely burn a hole in titanium.

It's amazing that a simple thing like cough syrup could be so deadly and helpful at the same time. It's truly the nastiest thing I have ever tasted and I dare anyone to drink a full bottle. You would probably never be sick again and I'm sure it's can cure AIDS if you drank two full bottles. Three bottles and it could probably bring people back to life. It's that effective. I was dared to taste it once on stage, it ended my show and the rest of my evening.

The tour winds down on Sunday and I am headed home for a much needed rest. I do have shows next weekend, but they are close to home and I can get a jump start on my recovery plan. I am terribly out of shape and haven't even seen a gym in two months. I am hoping that if I open two cans of spinach and eat them whole that I will somehow return to my former glory, but I know it's going to require more. Perhaps Buckley's make a spinach....

the invasion of Canada

Episode #8

zen and the art of the slapshot

Williams Lake is a generous town filled with colorful people and even more exciting scenery. I woke up to a view of the valley floor filled with fog. It looked like the largest serving of mashed potatoes and it they were thick and tasty.

Brett and I would spend the rest of the day sightseeing in Williams Lake, which is to say that we went out for lunch and then went to a loonie store for some Christmas shopping. I realize that it might be a pretty cheap gesture to by gifts at a loonie store(loonie=$ .87) but isn't Christmas supposed to be about giving and not supposed to be measured on how much is spent on the those gifts? I guess it will only make it worse to say that I decided NOT to buy any gifts this year after not finding anything to buy at the loonie store. I just can't do it. Christmas is a great idea and I just heard that back in the States that "Christmas" has come under fire. Again, America proving that its the world leader in absolute wastes of time. I just don't have the mental strength to think about it and I have just as much strength when it comes to purchasing gifts to show my... my... what is this holiday all about again?

The show goes well. It's packed and the people that can hear it, love it. Brett and I spend the rest of the evening trying to defend some of our material and give up and call it a night. The next morning the mashed potatoes are back. We get a late start to our five hour drive but the knowledge that Kelowna is at the other end of haul makes it easier to pass the hours. We continue to see large puddles of mashed potatoes as we pass through various mountain valleys and the setting sun sets a light yellow hue to the potatoes giving the appearance of melted butter. I have never wanted to eat mashed potatoes as badly as I do right now.

During the drive, Brett and I compare comedy notes about each other's act and we break down to the best our abilities, the pros and cons of what we saw in each other while we were on stage. His assessment of my show is dead on and I realize that I really need to work on some things, most notably - hair. I need some serious shaggy do attention. This is just getting ridiculous. I look like I have lived in the mountains for years without a mirror.

My assessment of Brett's show is harder because I know that his future is bigger than mine, but he just doesn't see it yet. I don't want to say the wrong thing and screw up his future. He is the future of Canada comedy but he just can't get over his rage on stage. It's a common theme in most "thinker" comics. Marcus has this too. Its a tick that comics with brains have that allows them to overthink a member of the audience that is disruptive, obvious or loud, and they assail them with a wave of degradation. This is common with all comics but thinker comics keep going well after the point is made. It makes the rest of the audience detach and this makes the thinker comic dig deeper into their mind for harder comments to hurl. But this time, it's at everyone and everything. This is so common that most thinker comics never see the success that the brainless comics do. It's hard to work a comic that is prone to destroy a crowd when things don't go perfectly. With Brett, it's hard to show him what this is as he is not big on giving an inch on these kinds of issues. Nor are any thinker comics, but in Brett's case, this can send him spiraling down into a deep pit of self doubt which can make it harder for him to find the promise land.

Comedy and valleys full of mashed potatoes. Nature has a sense of humor and we are too busy trying to figure out how to perfect subjectivism in comedy to take the time to laugh at it. Who are we fooling.

the invasion of Canada

Episode #7

by the light of the slivery moon


Final days in Calgary and the arrival of Brett Martin to Marcus and I's little circle, has made the axis of comedy evil, complete. His arrival signals the final stage of this invasion as he is expected to leave with me deep into the heart of British Columbia on Tuesday. It's a long drive and I have done it before, but never in the winter. There is an immense amount of anxiety regarding the road conditions that lead to the BC interior, so Brett and I are leaving a day early and will hope for the best. In the meantime, it's a rare moment where Brett, Marcus and I can actually hang out together, something we see very rarely since we first met, years ago.

Before I leave Calgary, the ongoing debate over whether or not I should move here is raised again and I am sure that this time, it's a good idea and probably. I was forced to open a Canadian banking account and the money I put in went up in value, in one day, when the Canadian dollar rose against the American Dollar so already I am making money here. Nothings says move here like, "have some free money".

------

The drive starts off as planned; Snow packed roads, loads of coffee and hockey talk with Hockey's funniest fan. Brett is good for hockey education and between he and Marcus, I have grown to become a rabid Calgary Flames fan. Even though my loyalty to them is purely hype created by constant brainwashing at the hands of Marcus and Brett. It worked and I find myself showing the Flames the same kind of love that I show Kansas Basketball... very, very odd.

Brett loves hockey so much you would think you were talking to the man who gave birth to it. I think he should probably write the Idiot's Guide to Hockey so that people that know people that love hockey can follow along with what they are saying when it is brought up in conversation. Of course, convincing Brett to do something constructive for his future is pretty hard, but eventually starvation will force him to do something and perhaps it will be this book.

----

The roads wind through the mountains and the roads are nasty. For some reason I am not driving with my normal cautious mentality and we are whipping down the road over snow and ice. The car, apparently more anxious than we are and sensing that I am not driving with much concern, is gripping the road like it was built to drive on snow and ice when tired drivers are behind the wheel. When we finally see Revelstoke, the roads have cleared up, the hockey lessons for this trip have cleared up and the plans regarding a move to Canada are taking shape. I can't say for sure that I am still sold on the idea, but things in the Forgottens have changed quite a bit and with the return of my brother from Iraq in January, I think my stay has reached the end. The oddest part about a move to Canada is Canada. It's a country of only 33 million spread out over an area that is twice the size of America, which has 350 million people. Canada makes it impossible to move here. They resist outsiders and I am beginning to think that I am going to have to hire a "mule" to take me across the border. Once in Canada, I will work in the fields and send every cent back home to my family so they can come and join me in the fields.

Moving isn't a new concept to me and sometimes it's the best way to really experience other parts of the world in high resolution. Visiting is nice, but you rarely get the clarity of the area and the people when you are transitory. My mother is fond of saying that you should live in different parts of the world for a minimum of a year to let the seasons cycle through with all of their seasonal celebrational offerings so that you can experience them and understand them. Then, move again. I have lived in quite a few corners of the world and I have seen the seasons change and I can't say that a year will really do it for some areas. Some places a year is 11 months too long, so it balances out. Calgary, or Montreal, both seem to call to me and I think it's time to see what I can do in one or both of those towns. I hear that Calgary celebrates their St. Patrick's Day in May. Isn't that odd?

This is bouncing around in my head as I turn north at Cache Creek and head up the majestic valley that ends in Alaska some two thousand miles away. This is the same valley I described in great detail in May when I was here last, however, this time, the valley is snow blasted which is covering the fine details of the land scape. With the dizziness of the long drive setting in, the world looks like it is covered with crystalized marshmallow. With a full moon out, the world is beautiful and it's bright enough to drive without headlights. It's just glorious. Each tree has been painted white with very little specks of evergreen poking out from underneath. The countour of the valley floor is smooth save for a few houses which are also covered with snow. I know they're houses as you can see glowing Christmas lights seeping through the heavy snow pack which sits on top of them. Flashing red and green. It looks like lightning in a summer storm cloud.

There is a full moon out and its shining bright off the snow. The mountains rise up slowly on the sides of the valley and they reflect the bright light of the moon creating a prism-like radiance everywhere. It's hard to watch the road in front of you when you have this view all around you.

Brett and I began to see the road dementia take us over and Williams Lake just seemed to appear out of nowhere. 13 hours of driving. Snow driving. Major life changes and the secret to hockey success wrapped up in a winter wonderland. This is what the world of touring comedy can be like - deep issues and brilliant landscapes. Should I move to Canada? I think so. I know everything I need to know about Hockey and I have seen the best that Canada can put forth to convince me that I should. There are a lot of other issues that need to be addressed first, but ultimately the selling point of any new location is what it can offer you emotionally and when you see what I have seen in this valley, how can you say no.

I have seen Canada in all of it's seasons and I have seen most of it's holiday traditions. Other than Boxing day and telling women that I played hockey so I can get laid, I have experienced Canada to it's fullest and now it's time for me to take part and not just play the role of tourist. Perhaps the snow will lose it's magic luster when it's a constant and a burden. I don't know, but without moving here, I will never know.

the invasion of Canada

Episode #6

santa's sense of humor

The two past days have been an exercise in humility. Comedy isn't always easy and it's even harder in a small secluded mountain community in the middle of the winter. Every small business in the small mountain hamlet of Cranbrook held it's annual Christmas party this past weekend and most of them came out to my shows. Normally this would be a great thing for me to see - large groups of people at my shows - but when it's a Christmas party, everything that would normally be a positive can quickly turn into a negative.

Where ever you work you have people that work with you that you barely know, rarely like or don't want to see in a social setting that are mixed in with the few coworkers that you can stand... somewhat. Each year you get to spend a glorious evening out with all of them and... their spouses, whom you do not know at all. If you have worked there for a few years then there is a good chance you have seen them at a social event before and if you have a decent memory, you can remember what that last fiasco was like. Sometimes the night out with the Usually in a group of four or more, there is one person that wants to entertain the others by showcasing their desire to publicly humiliate themselves by being a bit louder and more obnoxious than the rest of the group. The larger the number in the group, the larger the ass this person has to be. If the person turns out to be a woman, then the level of the obnoxiousness is increased ten fold. Booze involved? Twenty fold.

The shows in Cranbrook are held in the hotel that we stay in, which makes it nice and easy to make it to the show on time. If the shows go well, you can take someone back to your room without having to lose them in traffic. If the shows go bad... well, you can run and hide pretty quickly. The Shows are both at 9:30, be there at 9:29 and you're doing good. Comedy shows rarely start on time anyway. It's nice to show up a bit early and feel out the crowd to see what you're dealing with and in hindsight I probably should have done that. It helps you gauge where the crowd is verbally, mentally, socially and that can form some of you jokes to accomodate their needs. Well, I didn't show up early and I came to the shows cold, never a good idea with large Christmas parties.

Instead of working or writing or studying or making myself a better person, I spent both days in Cranbrook playing video games in Marcus's hotel room. I rarely see Marcus and this seemed like a good day to just kill time and some brain cells playing NHL hockey with a Canadian. (the trick is to let them win so they stay allies) I am usually a big time explorer when I am on the road, but both of us have been in this town a dozen or so times and have milked all the "experience" you can get out of it and if staying in a hotel room all day playing video games sounds like a better option, what does that tell you about the town?

Marcus hits the stage first and in both shows he has a bit of a tough time keeping the audience attentive long enough for them to hear a joke. It's not his fault, the audience is just enjoying their Christmas party and have been enjoying it hard and for the past two hours. By the time he took the stage, they had enough Christmas in their bodies for three people. They were loud and the in both shows there was one Christmas party reveller that would just not give up. Very chatty people and Marcus found himself following them there.

My shows were ridiculous. Humor is born in the moment and has everything to do with timing. If the timing is wrong, no amount of creative writing, no amount of nothing is going to save you. As a stand up comic, this can mean death if you have are contracted for an hour show and you are smelling of death with 45 minutes to go. You just get to sit there and suck it up and hope a moment is created that can restart the comedy engine. Something, anything. In Cranbrook.... at Christmas time.... it's not comedy they want.... it's a raise. And if you are their Christmas bonus then you had better be pretty stellar regardless of how loud the hecklers are and you had better not quit on them or you're going to die before you can make it back to your room.

The spirits of the season never found me in Cranbrook and my shows both flopped. You just can't force people to laugh and no matter what you think of to make them start, it will only act to make matters worse. Christmas parties are not places for hired comics. Christmas parties are places for one guy or girl that you work with to rise up from the pack and entertain their coworkers by humiliation and shock and then for the money saved to be spent on bonus checks. Because that's what Christmas is all about - that's what the season is all about - drinking, being loud, being selfish and money.

I survived the shows and I headed back to Calgary and was pulled over in Canada for speeding. There are ten cops in British Columbia and I met two of them. This was the icing on the cake for Cranbrook. Next time I come back, I am bringing my own audience.

Later that night, Marcus and I met up with Mr. Brett Martin of whom I have written a few times. It's always good to see Brett, he's younger than us, more opinionated and in some ways more oblivious than either Marcus or myself, so we like him a lot. He's punk rock and he doesn't even know it. I guess that's why Marcus and I love to fuck with him so much.

This annual tradion of drinking starts with a bar called......

the invasion of Canada

Episode #5

degrees of daniel and the door


Birthdays come... and birthdays go. Each year you learn something new about yourself and this year that lesson is, "literal translation". I think I have always been this way, but it took the past 48 hours to finally make me see just how severe my level of literal translation really is. I take everything literally. I hear something and I take it on face value. I miss out on jokes and other tongue in cheek moments all the time. I can't help it, it's just me, but in the past 48 hours I have learned quite a bit about how literal translation could be the source of all my problems. ....and a lot about the BDSM scene that exists here in Calgary.

I shall not use names to protect those involved...

Dec. 7th, 10 PM. After show meet and great and things are rolling fine. I am not feeling daffy but I'm not looking all that hard. Two very attractive women, A and B, come up to me and talk rather suggestively for a bit and then head out the door. Next to me is Man C. He sees the women and says something to the effect of, "Hook me up with one of them." I chase down A and B and tell them the set up. C wants to play and get real nasty and A and B agree, it sounds like fun and turn around and come back in the club. C... has fled. Upon seeing me chase after A and B, C ran out the back door. Apparently he could live with just "thinking" about it and not actually doing it. C will never return. I apologize to the ladies after a few minutes and they head home.

Dec. 8th, 8:50 PM. During the show, a rather sexy woman, D, comes up to me and starts into her game. She's on and she wants to play. She tells me that she is attracted to a woman in the audience, E, and she would love to fuck her badly. I tell her that I will see what I can do. I go back on stage and inform the audience that one lucky lady has a secret admirer and that "she" would like to talk to her after the show. D told me that she wasn't shy and she never gets embarrassed. I told her I was going to do it and she said it was a good idea. When I get off stage, she has changed her mind. She's pissed.

The show ends and during the meet and great, D shows me who E is in the crowd. E turns out to be sitting with girl, F who works at the club and is the closest thing to a goth chick we have to look at so I am already fast friends with her. F is cool and we are talking to each other when her friend, E comes up and joins in. It's all BDSM all day and all night. Dark stuff, very heavy. I have never been this excited for Daniel Day in all my years. I tell E about D and even point her out. She is completely turned on by the idea. As soon as I point at D, she sees me pointing and flees and so I end up talking to E and F for an hour before they leave. I apologize to E who doesn't seem to mind. I walk back into the show room after E and F leave and there is D, going through her stuff, hanging out. It turns out she sells fetish gear and runs a fetish site. We talk for a while and then the phone rings, its E who is looking to play with D if she is around and willing. D is pissed at me for calling her out on stage and is looking to be all talk and no game at this point, which is weird for women to be that far out there when it comes to this kind of sex, and says she's cool with it this time. I tell E to come back, that D is here and that she would love to play. I hang up and return to D and tell her the news, D grabs her fetish gear and runs out the door.... the same door that C ran out of the night before. When E arrives we talk for another hour and we talk about things and I apologize again. Again, she doesn't seem to put out by the deal but she gets a phone call and has to run which officially ends my alphabet match making for the night.

Its either me or the door. If you don't have the courage but you have a big mouth, I am probably not the person to turn to for a wing man. I took what these people said literally and it only worked to show how cowardly people can be. Both D and C said they wanted some and I made it happen. BOTH of them fled like little school children at a Gary Glitter party when the heard the news that it was going to happen. I just don't have the capacity or the stomach, for half spoken courage. This was made very apparent in the faces of the women that CAME BACK, on my word alone, and were embarrassed to see that the person that asked for them, had fled upon hearing the news. They took the bigger risk and were made to look like the fool. It's moments like this that ruin it for the rest of the world.

The good news of the day is that there is a very healthy, very sexy, very twisted BDSM scene here. Of course, I learn this on my last night here with a hotel room in which to play in, but that's okay. I know it's here. I love the BDSM scene, asking them questions about themselves is a great deal of fun and you can learn a lot about duality of humans by talking to them. For example - E teaches English in a high school and appears to be as docile as a person can be. But when the bell rings the piercings in her body tingle and they are drawn to a darker world where blood, strangulation, severe restraints and watching men dress up in women's clothes is a relaxing afternoon. This... is why I refuse to die. I love people like this, they give me hope that there is a future for mankind. They represent the best example of what the rest of the world could truly be like if we were completly honest with ourselves and lived without fear instead of living a repressed life for a dozen different reasons which are complete dog shit. The only people that live a life that is anywhere near true are the people that we, as a world society, deem to be sluts, perverts, womanizers, whores or freaks and then shun them, exclude them or turn our backs on them. But they live a life closer to the soul than any of us that would label and judge them. We would all love to be them and if we don't then there is something wrong with "US" not them. WE have the issue that needs addressing and nine times out of ten that issue is F-E-A-R! Self imposed restraints based on the voices inside of our heads that mean nothing to us. These people recognize their fears and they live a life that embraces their fears as a strength and it makes their lives fuller. They are willing to let a stranger invite them to a night of debauchery with people they don't know and they are ready for it and excited by it. It's the people that would rather run out the door and not embrace who they are or what they want that have the true problem.

It's either Daniel.... or the door. Which way do you think you would have gone? What if you were A or B (who were willing to fuck each other even though one had never done it before) or E?

the invasion of Canada

Episode #4

daniel day in danada

The good news of the day is the only part of the day anyone cares for. You can spend hours sifting through the moments of your day trying to figure out what part of the day was the good news. Some days, the news is great and worth appreciating, like, getting laid or finding money. But some days you have to create the good news out of a pot of shit, like, at least you'll be able to walk again or thank god it's not life in prison. That kind of thing.

My good news of the day: I got a full night's sleep. YES! I know.. I know. It's true. I went to bed early and got up late, just like normal people do. No middle of the night morning show for me, I got the whole night. Eventually I am going to figure out what it is exactly that is causing this and have is cut out of my body but, for now, I have to admit I am getting used to my new sleeping pattern.

Especially today.... The day of days.

The Daniel Day elephant came through my wall, like he does every year, and left me my Daniel Day lump of poo while I was sleeping. I have never seen the elephant and I'm sure that he's probably fictional and just some story my parents told me to justify their late night drinking accidents, but it's nice to carry the belief on that he is real and that everyone wakes up to a huge lump of poo on their coffee table.

I am filled with Daniel Day bliss for I know that all over the world today there are people rejoicing and celebrating and singing Daniel Day carols. They are spending time with loved ones and being merry. Exchange your gifts, get your groove on, but be careful.

For me, the day starts with my favorite breakfast of some peanut butter toast and hot coffee. The whole time I am preparing and eating my breakfast I am casually singing my favorite Daniel Day song to get into the mood for the upcoming events of the day.

I love myself... I want you to love me...

Munch, munch, munch.

When I'm down... I want you above....

Sip.

When I think about you...

Munch, munch, munch.

I have a Daniel Day parade to attend a little later this morning, which is followed by a Daniel Day orgy and then an evening of galas and fund raisers (for the children). I have on my traditional Daniel Day lederhosen and feathered cap and I am ready to cut a rug with some Daniel Day revelers. Thank the gods that I got a full night's sleep otherwise I wouldn't make it through all this craziness.

It's hard to open all these presents that people keep giving me. Even though I'm in Canada, I am receiving packages every five minutes via FedEx and the room I'm in is floor-to-ceiling tokens of love and affection. Bonnie in Missouri sent me a quilt with my face embroidered on it. Not a great likeness, but it's the thought that counts. Tim and his wife from Walla Walla baked me cookies because they didn't read my post about not sending cookies. Each cookie is shaped like me with frosting applied to each one to make my face appear to be smiling. Carol in Edmonton sent me some pornographic photos of herself having sex with a man who's face has been covered with a cut and pasted photo of mine. I look well hung. Marcus sent a Vandals CD because he is wise. Voltaire and his girlfriend, Succubus, sent me vials of their blood and what appears to be the heart of Voltaire. Oh those crazy kids. Nikki sent me socks. She's an ex, they do that. Thank you all. I really do appreciate it. Of course, this is year number four without a live human sacrifice... Not very smart... You wouldn't want to wake the resting gods and have them shake the oceans and send winds, waves and rain down upon the world's coast lines, do you?

But that is later.... Now, the sun is shining, the weather has turned unnaturally warm and risen to a comfy 40 degrees. Even the weather is rejoicing in this day. You can hear it singing in the warm winds, "I love myself... I want you to love me." I like Daniel Day, so does the weather and everyone else. It's nice to see so many people out there holding hands, skipping, appreciating life and looking forward to another year full of "the best parts of the days". I know that Daniel Day is only one day a year, but if you hold it in your heart, it can be every day and it can be the best part of your day. It can be June and you may be having a terrible day, but you can say to yourself, "Hey! It's only six months to Daniel Day." and you'll feel better.

I need to get going. If I don't stretch, I won't make it to the end of the orgy. There is just nothing more embarrassing than having to bow out after six hours because of a leg cramp. I hope they have food at this one.. just not pulled pork.

the invasion of Canada

Episode #3


comedy, medium rare

If there is a BBQ restaurant, I will eat there before I eat anywhere. If there is BBQ on a menu, I will order that before anything, even if it's the most expensive item and I am not in an area of the world that is known for BBQ. I can't help myself. I love BBQ that much. If there is a chance that it might be BBQ, I will take it. Sadly, this philosophy as screwed me out of some decent meals over the years and I have still not learned my lesson.

They say that you should order, "safely" when eating somewhere for the first time. Go with what the locals order. If you follow that line of thinking you would be eating Chicken Fettucini and hot wings every where you go. I have a much better pallate than that.

Comedy touring offers very few perks so it's important to take advantage of them when the present themselves. Quite possibly the best perk is exploration of new lands and when I say exploration, I don't mean viewing the landscape. I am talking about finding new flavors and new dishes that the region has to offer. In Japan you had a lot of great food. Korea - not so much. Canada.... Canada is a food challenge. It's hard to find a decent meal in Canada no matter what side of the country you travel to. This isn't my first trip here and I have failed quite a few times in my pursuit of looking for a great restaurant and I am forced to eat bar food each and every time I'm here just to sustain myself. I still try and I refuse to give up. I know that some day I will walk into the one restaurant that just blow my mind and returns my faith.

I want to like the food here. I really, really do, but Canadian cuisine is salt loving heaven and they love to put carrots and cheese in everything. It's not uncommon to have beef barley soup that is really salty, filled with carrots and covered in melted cheese. You can't help but stare at it and look stunned at the locals around you eating it as if this was normal. Perhaps it is normal, and the rest of the world has it wrong, but I am still shocked. It does sound good and I love carrots and cheese, but generally not together in the same dish, especially if that dish is chocolate cake, which I am sure you can find in some parts of Canada. Most likely Manitoba.

I love to explore the world of food and I thank my lucky stars that comedy allows me the chance to try all this regional fare, but I must take issue with my recent meal. It's a simple dish, something anyone can do, unless, apparently, you're Canadian - BBQ pulled pork. If you are not familiar with the dish, it's basically a pork roast that is slowly roasted and then drowned in BBQ sauce and after a few hours the roast falls apart into yummy perfection which you can eat by the pound. North Carolina lays claim to the title of best pulled pork in the world but I disagree. I have found that the best pulled pork is found in Memphis and Arkansas. But, North Carolina has whined about it long enough that the BBQ world they started calling it North Carolina pulled pork just to shut them up. That apparently wasn't enough for North Carolina so they decided to put a dollop of cole slaw on top of their version just to make sure you knew it was the original and not some rip off. I think this secured their version as the worst you can get. Until....

In Lethbridge, Alberta comedy is a part of the fabric of Tuesday nights. The show is held each week at the local steak house and it packs out with eager comedy fans. The comics are treated well and offered a free meal before their show which I love and I am always eager to take someone up on a free steak even if it's in Canada. I opened the menu and there was "pulled pork" and I was floored. I don't want to order it as I have seen pulled pork done really poorly in the past and not just in Canada. This is a chance at a fairly decent free meal and I can screw it up badly if I take a chance on the pulled pork... my mind is racing. Free steak... pulled pork... free steak... pulled pork. Best chance at enjoying the meal.... best chance that I am going to go to bed hungry... free steak... pulled pork...

I ordered the pork.

I shall not describe what came to my table. I shall leave that for the gods to review when I stand before them in the afterlife. I think it might help my chances of eternal bliss if they see that I ordered the pulled pork and lived to tell the tale. I also think that I earned some karma points, strengthened my aura and screwed up my chi. My colon doesn't feel all that great either.

Hunger cramps and gas are a deadly combination, especially when you are on stage in front of 200 people that love comedy and want to see a show and would be really put out if you had to stop the show half way through to run to the bathroom. You want to bring the funny, but the only thought in your head is how much your body hurts and "Am I going to die from this?". It's that painful. There is no amount of Tums, Zantac or medical attention that can save you from this painful combination.

I was funny, I did my time, I did my show and most of the people loved it. I enjoyed the praise from the crowd after the show and I did my best to hide the pain that was growing in my stomach. I'm sure many of the people that came up to me after the show thought I was disgusted with their presence as all I could was wince when they talked to me.

The only thing worse about eating a bad meal is paying for a bad meal. I am never confident that the meal is really free after an earlier run in with an owner over this very same issue. There was a mix up in communication and it cost me some popularity with a booker, so I would rather just pay for every meal and not run the risk again.

I paid thirteen bucks for my stomach agony.

I will continue to seek out great meals on the road and try to report them to you as I find them. Sadly, the only thing I have to report today is that you should not order the pulled pork in Lethbridge, Alberta unless you like salty, dry pork chops covered in warm ketchup, covered with soggy cheese and four pounds of carrots.

the invasion of Canada

Part 2.

down time


Every comedy tour in Canada is filled with the best intentions and I try to remind myself of that as a mantra as I pass each day on the tour. However, regardless of what I want to see happen while I'm here, mystical forces always seem to derail my pursuit and they send me spiraling in the opposite direction. On this trip, my main focus on my off days is to spend time with close friends and not to get in anyone's way. The time spent with friends is easy enough to achieve, but "not getting in the way" is harder to do than it seems. I just have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A little background might be in order...

Years ago when I first started coming to Canada there was a very popular lady that worked for the club that handled the booking of all the comics. She was very popular with the all the comics and did a great job for the company. She took a liking to me and was eventually fired. I am not sure if it had anything to do with me, but she was fired and everyone here blamed me or associated her termination with me, which didn't make me popular with the comics here that loved her and needed her. This made it tough to come back here and hang out with them. It's hard to have been a part of a great shake up and be one of the people that is left standing. Especially when you're not the first choice for a survivor.

I started opening my big American mouth a lot, and I left timing and tact in my luggage. I said a lot of things I don't regret saying, but they threw my popularity into an even deeper hole. This started to build a bit of legendary status as to what kind of man I really was and my celebrity in Canada became more synonymous with scandal than it did with funny. Not having ever been all that popular with beginner comics to begin with, some of my words were directed towards them in a beginner comic class and this made me even less popular with them. I think I told most of them to quit, that they were not funny and the world didn't need them. They took it personally. Strike two against me.

Being a loud American, I also voiced my opinion about the club, nothing out of the ordinary, but up here, complaints are taken seriously whereas in the states its seen as common every day banter for comics. Strike three and I am wearing ice skates in warm water waiting for the thin ice.

Then, the final act of sacrilege - I went on stage and called out a comic that carried a lot of power within the company. This doomed me and it took years for me to be able to come up again. Years.

In my absence, I became better friends with those that could see me for what I am and not the dirty snot that the rest of Canada was seeing. We became very close and it became important to me to see them whenever I could. I was willing to cower before the machine in order to get permission to come back to Canada just so I could see them. I genuinely like it here. At one time and many times since, I have flirted with the idea of moving here, I like it that much, so it was important to behave myself if I did come up.

Favors had to be called in to get me back up here and another woman in the company with the same, if not more, popularity, stuck her neck out and the company took another chance on me. Each time I come up here I am aware of this and I do what I can to keep the thin ice I skate on from turning back into a hot tub. So far, so good. It's been two years and things are progressing.... slowly. But still progressing.

Until this trip.

The woman who called in the favor to get me back up here, lost her job, and again, all eyes are on me. Her termination is still fresh in everyone's mind and it's got a lot of people upset. She was very popular and her affections for me are well known. Her termination wasn't a direct result of anything I have done, she was let go because the company couldn't afford to keep her any longer, but that's not what the "scene" sees. So again, I have a cloud hanging over my head.

Some people are just blessed with joy with the things they do and the people they meet. They just walk through life doing nothing special and everything is just perfect around them. They never get stains on their clothes, they never smell bad, they never get yelled at and rabid dogs always wag their tails when they come around. They live a charmed life. Then there are those of us that find a nail in our tire with everything we do. Even when we try to do a good thing, something bad happens - Peaceful dolphins lead our boats into dangerous waters, the store is always out of what we need, every person we sleep is on their period or has a small dick, our ointment is made of flies. Happy people still behave the same as their counterparts, the less blessed, but their baggage always arrives. We, the afflicted, smile when their luggage is lost because it means that the plane didn't go down with them on it, which is a good thing.

Monday was a no-show day for me. No-show days are just what they sound like. A day with no show in it. These are the days on the road that you do laundry, play video games, sightsee, mail postcards or drive 19 hours to get to the next gig. They are quality days when you use them wisely, but they can be deadly prison sentences if you forget to fill them with something to do and you're staying somewhere that doesn't have cable. I spent my Monday trying to get paid for Coutts. The check arrives at 3 and I am still in the hotel with my check at 5, talking to the other road comics on tour up here. This is really our only time to get to know each other and many a magic moment has been created in this hotel sports bar. Of course, hanging over all of this is the recent departure of the comedy mother and everyone is still trying to figure out if I had anything to do with it.

Nothing happens on Monday and I like it. Until someone tells me that there is an open mike at a downtown bar and everyone will be there. Hmmmmm.... I am not much of a fan of open mikes or open mikers and they aren't big fans of me, especially right now, but I went. It's barely six weeks since the loss of their comedy mother and she is scheduled to make an appearance at the show, so I am well received. So is death when you have terminal cancer.

The comedy mother arrived at the show and we sat through one of the better open mikes of all time. It was mostly ladies, most of them funny and none of them knew me. Which always makes for a better evening. I ended up closing the show and I mean this in every form possible. As soon as I hit the stage, people left. The ones that enjoy live comedy, left. The ones that stayed wanted to watch me die slowly. (Did I ever tell you how much I hate open mikers? And lucky people?)

The weather continues to drop and the rest of the week are show days. I need to pep up before Daniel Day if I want to see the Daniel Day Elephant bring me gifts. It's a similar to Santa or the Easter Bunny, but the Daniel Day Elephant comes in your house, through a wall, shits on your coffee table and then leaves. They do this as a reminder to go out to celebrate Daniel Day. And the gifts they leave behind take a while to remove which adds to the reminder for a period of about one month. I hope everyone gets out on their no-show day and I hope their luggage always arrives.