gosh darn it, you friggin mother friggin dodo head

It's raining in Tucson and the temperature has fallen into an uncomfortable range for most of the denizens here. Even for me - especially for me - as I have no long sleeved clothes to accommodate the present weather. I mean, who brings a coat to Tucson in July? How foolish, and - optimistic. So I am freezing in Tucson, in July. Some vacation.

The Friday night shows were a success even with the owner trying to trip me up before the first show. He called me with less than an hour before show time and told me that there were some special groups in the audience and that I need to work clean or remove myself from the line-up. To the typical comic, changing up your whole show to accommodate the needs of a specialty audience is a huge undertaking and it requires at least 48 hours to a week of planning to do it right. So the owner's request is a huge inconvenience, but I was ready for it. I had the advantage of knowing that he was going to try to trip me up as I am no greenhorn in this rodeo and I have seen this kind of crap before. I am used to these "late, but important" requests. And I have built up an immunity to Iocane powder. I could care less if I have to work clean. I have enough material in my repotoire to fill two solid hours if I have to. I just don't particularly like to.

I could tell that the owner was put out by the fact that I was very accommodating and that he was not going to be able to pull me from the show for censorship rationales. I guess he just thought that if I wasn't able to pull it off, he could fire me for cause and no one would be able to argue with him about it. The show was perfect and after the show, the owner did come up and say thank you. I guess he conceded and just decided to write off the weekend. I'm gone in one day and he doesn't have to rebook me. Seeing a golden opportunity to talk to him, I asked what he thought and he had this to say, "You're the darkest comic we have ever had in this club in the ten years I've been here."

I was left mildly speechless for the rest of the night. I have never thought of myself as a dark comic. Challenging, but not dark. The second show I was filthy and brutal. I slayed, not an easy task on a Friday late show.

I like foul language. I don't use it all the time, but I like what it does. I like the fact that it can be used to stress a particular point and give it weight, or used as an exasperation. It's effective word play and every human on the planet with the ability to communicate does it - Everyone, every language, every culture, every where. No exceptions.

I was recently on the phone with Verizon Wireless's customer service division because Verizon is a bunch of cunty- cuntersons and they needed their monthly Daniel tongue lashing. I don't like corporations much, so I have a hard time watching my tongue when I am dealing with them. It pains me immensely that I have to accommodate them in my life. I hate them all and I feel like a sell out, a hypocrite and less of a man everytime I have to accept their evil in my life.(Comcast, Verizon, Puget Sound electric, Mazda, State Farm, TD Canada Trust and Bank of America - they can all fuck right off and burn in hell) I was on the phone with a phone rep - some poor little voiced woman that was playing by the rules because she is indoctrinated to do so - and the conversation got heated. I started using big colorful words that she took offense to so I told her to put me on the phone with a grown up. She hung up on me. I'm not sure what this means in the business world, but I guess this is a pass by Verizon on their dealings with me. I like that she hung up on me. I like that the words - just words - were able to control her. I had power over her because she let me. I don't know her and she did what I wanted her to. It's foolish and common and I exploit this relationship often. When I'm on stage, I use certain words and phrases it because it subliminally tells my audience that I am not playing by the rules and that they should expect something different and use the adult side of their mind. I am not here to make them completely comfortable with my type of entertainment. There will be no watermelon smashing and no "yo momma so ugly" rhetoric here. I'm here to challenge "perceptions". They should fidget in their seats. I am not a fan of corporations and yet I am on a corporate stage so these people, wearing their corporate clothes, having driven here in their corporate cars, sitting in a corporate designed building and drinking corporate booze, can hear me rail on about how evil corporations are evil. I like that.

It's raining in Tucson. The streets are filled with water and it's freezing cold. I am soaked from the fifteen minutes of walking in the rain. When I finally get to the front door I am pretty jazzed to be out of the rain. I walk in.

HOLY SHIT! I cried.

I should have seen the large crowd gathered in the room but I didn't. It's packed wall to wall inside. The room is filled with Green Party members from all over the United States, that are in town for their annual convention. They are all startled by my presence and by the harsh interruption of a speech someone is giving. So they turn to judge me, hastily. For a moment there is a brief silence. The only thing that breaks the iron cold reception is the powerful strong smell of gathered hippi - petchouli. It's an amazingly strong concentration, one I have never experienced before. It's almost enough to cover up the smell of failed artist on their Phish tee shirts.

I get coffee and sit down - silently. Twenty minutes pass of me using my computer. More people come in. The speeches continue and the dialogue in the room is top heavy with revolution and co-ops. Periodically during the speeches, people will turn to nod their head in my direction in some mild form of agreement with what the speaker is saying, they have completely forgotten that I am the interloper here. The ten or so people in my direct area are all guilty of nodding at least once in my direction before they quickly turn away, their face contorting to a look of disapproval as quickly as their head spun around to see if I was nodding in approval too. I am asked to leave by the owners... Very "open minded and accepting" of them.

Again, the tides of Tucson have shifted in surprising ways. The work place wasn't the rocky rapids that I thought it would be but instead it turned out to be my writing time. The usually peaceful brook that is my posting was muddied by a bunch of would-be do-betters that took offense to me and my free speech lifestyle. I guess if I had been wearing a cheap plastic name tag (that was made in a third world country by an impoverished soul) with my name printed on it (with toxic, industrial black laser printer ink that required fossil fuels to get the job done) I would have been received with open arms.

I want to go home.