Long Distance Carlin

I heard that George Carlin got an open ended run in heaven. Two shows a night for eternity. Not a bad gig. In hell they do three shows on Saturday. To say that Carlin has had an influence on comedians is as arbitrary as saying that McDonalds has had an influence on fat people. The man was a comedic genius and the most prolific writer in the history of modern American comedy.
Yet, I must admit I sort of forgot about him. He became too comfortable. He was too great. If you had tickets to one his shows, you knew the show would be great. If he did one of his many HBO specials, you knew it would be great. I don't think people realize how much pressure can heap up on a guy who's constantly expected to do great things. Trust me, I have no idea how I keep pulling it off! Wassuuppp!
My first Carlin experience was in the third grade. Me and two of my friends recited the"Hair Piece" in front of the class. Nobody asked us to. We just got up there and did it. It was my first taste of performing comedy in front of an audience. We had fun, even though we didn't write any of it. That must be how Carlos Mencia started. Unfortunately, he never stopped.
Carlin did write his own stuff. Tons of it. The guy was constantly coming up with stuff. Maybe it's what killed him. They say comedy has healing properties. Maybe they're wrong. Maybe writing jokes is worse than crack. If that's the case George Wallace, Dennis Leary, and Robin Williams are going to outlive us all! Boy, if that isn't an arguement for suicide, what is?
Give 'em the light and drop the checks on the tables. It's time to wrap it up. Don't forget to tip your wait staff. This is my second blog in as many blogs about a dead guy. Just in case there is some kind of connection, my next blog will be about Dane Cook . . . hopefully.

Rest In Press

I'm a simple man, for the most part. I don't ask much of the human race and expect even less. I like coffee(way too much), I like cigarettes, and professional football. No . . . this is not my e-harmony profile page. Among the tiny list of the things I like about the world, Tim Russert was very close to the top. He died on Friday the thirteenth of June, 2008. He was only 58 years old.

I watched Meet The Press every Sunday without fail and I can honestly say that Li'l Russ was a great man. It almost sounds mundane to say that about someone. That phrase gets tossed around more than a bulimics' lunch these days. But, I truly mean it. He was great. He was a great show host, he was a great interviewer and he knew his politics. I respected and admired him as much as man could without being called "homo".

He was a great family man, according to the one hour tribute on what should have been Meet The Press this morning. He was respected and admired by his peers(homos!), according to the guests on the afore mentioned tribute; many of which were frequent guests of MTP. Tom Brokaw kicked the show off by saying kind words about Tim. It's the right thing to do. You never want to start a tribute by saying, "You owe me fifty bucks you piece of shit!" Why is it more fun to watch Dana Carvey do an impression of Tom Brokaw than it is to watch Tom Brokaw? Carvelle and Matlin were also on the the tribute show, proof that opposites attract. In their case that seems to apply to love more than viewers and readers. A democrat married to a republican. Tell me again about the "L" and "R" monograms on your bath towels, I love that story!

All tribute shows have clips of past interviews, and this one was no exception. For those of you who didn't see it, it was like a best of Oprah show without all the fake tears. In particular, one of the clips that struck me was an interview with H. Ross Perot. It's amazing to me how vivid insanity looks on a high definition television. I had completely forgotten about a visit on the show from the then "freshman" Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, where she swore up and down that she would never run for president. "I did not have presidential relations with that woman", she said.

Most recently, what I loved about watching Tim Russert, was how genuinely excited he was about our upcoming election. You could see it on his face every time he welcomed you to MTP. Usually, you only see that look on the faces of the " freshly laid". So I've been told. That is why it's so sad to me that he won't be around to see the outcome. He won't be here to see John McCain get elected president and having a stroke and almost dying upon hearing the news. He'll never be able to say, " Today on the show, an hour long interview with Vice-President Anne Coulter. . . live from hell . . . welcome to Meet The Press."

Tim Russert will not go to hell. In fact, I'm sure it will be quite the opposite. At least it should, anyway. Bill O'Reilly should go to hell. I know a guy who crews on the O'Reilly Factor and he told me Bill doesn't let anybody in his dressing room because there are cracks on the floor and you can actually see hell seeping through. My friend smokes a lot of weed.

I'll miss you Mr. Russert. And I will miss your show every Sunday morning. Not so much once football season kicks in, granted . . . ca'mon! Thanks for all of the great interviews and all the great debate moderation. While I'm on the subject, next election, let's moderate the debates by not having quite so many. Can we do that? I think Tim would have agreed completely.

Jesus H. Potter

I came across the final instalment of the "Left Behind" series the other day at the book store with the Starbucks in it. I was surprised to find out that "Kingdom Come" was the 16Th book in the series. Sixteen books about the "rapture". Holy crap! Holy crap by the way, is the section of the book store where they keep that series.

In 1995, authors Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins wrote their first book ,"Left Behind", introducing America to the fictional character, Jesus Christ. Since then they've sold over 65 million copies of these popular books leaving fans screaming for more, more, more!

The series details what life will be like on earth for those left behind when one million people get "raptured " on up to heaven. Knowing that there are over 5 billion people living on earth, I'm assuming it's a kind of preboarding if you will, mostly kids and old folks with aluminum walkers. Meanwhile down on earth trial and tribulation ensues. Evil doers versus good . . . doers! Fire, brimstone, fiddles of gold against people's souls, Jesse McCartney turns 20! Complete and utter chaos! And to complicate matters even more, a young boy with a lightening bolt on his head named Harry, grows up to become the Antichrist. Setting the stage for the return of Jesus Christ ,the original boy wizard, and the battle to end all battles. Yada, yada, yada, sixteen books later, good triumphs over evil and . . . well . . . I don't want to ruin it for you . . . suffice to say they're real and they're spectacular! Whew! I'm exhausted!

Needless to say, if you don't want to fry in hell, you should at least entertain the notion of a wonderful afterlife as recompense for your best attempt at goodness. On the other hand, my version of hell would be having to read all sixteen books in LaHaye and Jenkins' "Left Behind" series. Jesse McCartney is 20? Jesus Christ . . . time flies!

Eight Is Enough

This September will mark the second anniversary of Pluto's ejection from our solar system. The shadows and fog that may or may not have been a planet were discovered in 1930 by Clyde Tombaugh. He's dead now. But if he wasn't, this would surely have killed him. His life's work ironically enough, wound up equal to the surface temperature of the very planet he discovered . . . absolute zero. Poor bastard.
Save for the fact that we hate Pluto and that the surface is made of ice, not much else is known about the little planet that couldn't. The atmosphere is composed of mostly of Nitrogen, Methane and Carbon Monoxide. Not far away from the atmosphere at any alcoholics anonymous meeting. Although, Pluto does lack the high levels of self loathing.
Speaking of alcoholics, NASA launched a spacecraft that is scheduled to orbit Pluto in July of 2015. Since it will now have to turn right back around, project "What's the Fucking Point" will re orbit the Earth in the year 2025. So much for the cool pictures of Pluto's surface. This thing is just going to be one more satellite cluttering up our atmosphere taking pictures of Lindsay Lohan getting into fist fights outside of trendy L.A. nightclubs.
I salute Pluto. The ninth rock(er) from the sun! Once basking in the glory of being named after a Roman god . . . now . . . reduced to dwarf planet status. In other words, a lousy stinkin' asteroid! What a story for VH1's Behind the Planets.
How do you get kicked out of the solar system? What a badass ex-planet! Rebel planet yo . . . Pluto don't play ya know I'm sayin' dawg! I'd like to see Oprah Winfrey's ass kicked out of the solar system. There's an episode for After Oprah! Strap her to a rocket with Tom Cruise, the kid with long hair from TMZ, and the entire cast of Grey's Anatomy. Rosie O'Donnell would provide the weight at the bottom end. 3. . .2 . . .1 . . . you go girl!
In September of '06 Pluto was assigned asteroid number 134340 and was placed in a loving home in a region loaded with other asteroids just south of Neptune known as the Kuiper Belt. That place ROCKS! Pluto continues to struggle with drugs and alcohol but is currently c and s. Pluto spends most of it's time in the studio laying down phat tracks and coming up with fresh beats. And don't get me started on the dope rhymes.

Ricky Surveys

Favorite Serial Killer?
John Wayne Gacy Jr.
Favorite Sexual Position?
Reaching for my wallet.
Rock, Paper or Scissors?
McCain.
Who Did You Call First Today?
911.
During A Race Riot Where Would You Hide?
A library.
Is Elvis Presley Still Alive?
He died of boredom in 1997.
Where Were You The First Time You Saw " High School Musical "?
Gagged and bound.
Last Time You Saw A Family Member?
In court.
Favorite Feature On Your I Phone?
The bottle opener.
Last Website Visited?
Underage teen whore heads in a bucket (.com ).
Hannah Montana Or Miley Ray Cyrus?
Duct tape.
Do You Support Gays/Lesbians?
Not anymore. My brother moved out.
Where Was Your First Kiss?
On my penis.
Is There Any Limit To The Amount Of Stupidity In These Surveys?
Trick question.

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The Rats Win The Rat Race

I was eating lunch in a Vietnamese restaurant and watching CNN (because that’s how I spring roll) when all of a sudden the most alarming news story I’ve ever heard came on. The reporter said that scientists have determined that there are as many rats living on the planet Earth as there are humans. I don’t mind telling you my chopsticks became dropsticks in a big hurry. How can that be? I always thought the people at Maybeline had done more than their fair share to thin out the rat population. I looked at some of the staff at the Vietnamese restaurant and said, "what . . . are you guys vegetarians?" Ca’mon!

We have to do something. We can’t turn the planet over to the rats! What the hell kind of existence is that? I don’t need to find out first hand that rat traps suck. I can’t scurry worth a shit. I like my apartment. I don’t want to live in a little hole. Wait a minute . . . my apartment is a little hole! Oh my God the transformation has already begun. Yes . . . I see it . . . SCOOTER Libby, CHEESE heroin, WILLARD Scott, lesbians with RAT tails. . . we are doomed!

I can remember the good old days when lab rats were used to test makeup and other hygienic products. That is until the activists got involved. I hope they all get gnawed! There was a shampoo developed especially for women with blonde hair they stopped testing on rats when the they noticed how stupid the rats were becoming. The rats were all "whatever" and the cheese was all "whatever " and the maze was like "ttyl"! They’re not stupid anymore! The rats I mean, blondes are blondes what are ya gonna do?

In India they eat rats. So, the next time there is a earthquake I say we all play one big game of "mousetrap" and send ’em a million crates full of brown and gray furry love. "Hey, Hadji where should I put these crates from the U.S. marked Rat Cross?" "Put them next to the Sheer Blonde shampoo", Hadji replies.

Racist Peanut Butter Cups

Try as I may I can't seem to escape the upcoming election and unfortunately I am not referring to American Idol. Although Ryan Seacrest would make a great first lady unlike Bill Clinton(talk about "pole her" opposites . . . did you see what I did there?) Barrack Obama is a fucking idiot. Hillary Clinton is married to a fucking idiot and John McCain has the life expectancy of a premature hiv positive crack baby!
Some have implied that I am racist because of my feelings for Mr. Obama. Now see, would I have referred to him as Mister if I was racist? I simply do not buy the whole JFK thing. The guy has compared himself to Kennedy more times than Pepsi has compared itself to Coke!
John F. Kennedy was a rock star. Here's a guy that was hanging out with the "rat pack" every night (how cool is that?), he was banging Marilyn Monroe(cool squared!) and knocking about with Sam Giancana and the rest of the Chicago mafia(coolamundo . . . as Fonzi would say)! Kennedy made Bill Clinton look like one of the Jonas Brothers!

What has Barrack Obama done that his wife didn't tell him to do? Oh sure he smoked some weed once . He did a little blow( paging Mr. City . . . Mr. Newjack City). Well who hasn't?! I did blow once. And I inhaled . . . many, many times.
Now, I will readily admit that I admire anyone who is taking this election seriously. I simply cannot. My heart goes out to the candidates. Let's face it whoever wins is looking at four years of KP duty in Iraq(pronounced "a-wreck")before he or she can do anything else. Campaign promises couldn't possibly be even addressed until the second term of whoever wins. That's a little thing I like to call logic. Think about it, there is a war going on with no foreseeable outcome except the death of more our brave young men and women. That would make me want to call in sick the first day of my new job! When's lunch?
So vote for whoever you want to vote for. But don't expect too much. And for those of you who don't like the way things turn out . . . well, there's always cocaine. Trust me . . . that shit will make four years sail by!