Sure, but that guy's a dick.

For those who missed 60 minutes, ANOTHER ex-CIA agent went on and said AGAIN that Bush was repeatedly warned that there were no Weapons of Mass Destruction. Now we get to play my favorite game: "Sure he said that, but that guys a dick." Will the administration counteract this damning testimony by proving their case with facts? Or will they call him a dick and you just can't trust the opinion of a dick? When will Republicans start viewing lying behavior as indicative of lying? If I spent two years doing everything but proving that I didn't take the cookie from the cookie jar, but rather digging into the past of my accusers "would you really trust the opinion of someone who smoked pot in 1977?" I think we'd all think I'm guilty. For some reason that standard logic never works when the necessary Gods and Masters of those needing of mastery whether it be God, Jesus, or Bush.

Joe Wilson says there's no Uranium from Niger - sure, but that guy's a dick. Richard Clarke publishes a book on the fervor to attack Iraq since the day they came to office - sure, but that guy's a dick. John Murtha, respected war vet and Democratic hawk with vast ties to insiders in the Pentagon says the war's not going well - yeah, but that guy's a dick. Leaks on CIA secret prisons and wiretapping, from dicks. 8 retired Generals call for Rumsfelds firing, dicks.

How's the joke go? Abusive husband's wife catches him screwing another woman - "Who you gonna believe? Me? Or your lying eyes?" Something like that.

So how will they turn Drumheller into a dick? No book to publish so they can't use that "publicity seeking" angle. Maybe prove that he gave money to Kerry? Maybe they'll use the word "shifty-eyed" as they did hundreds of times with Gore. In a day we'll have the talking point and magically Chris Matthews and Katie Couric will say something very similar. Perhaps a panel of Republicans will be amassed to discuss it on CNN. One thing's for sure, they won't counter it with facts. Are you really going to listen to this dick? Dicks are not worth listening to, and here's why he's a dick. Meanwhile no attempt to prove themselves right, just that the other guy sucks. Hilarious. Well, 2,400 are dead, and Tommy's there, so, kinda not.

Brought

Wow, what a show last night. That was the first show we'd ever done at the Gallery Cabaret, and the second variety show style show we've done, and yet that show felt like we'd done it 100 times. Perhaps it was the Cafe' Ashie feel that the bar had with a stage in the back with a mural of the city or the local flavor of regular customers who didn't come for comedy. Perhaps I felt it more after the show when the place felt a lot like the Red Line Tap which we went to after every Heartland Show for two straight years. A couple people asked where Justin's wife, Julie was, for all I know she's out of the country but I know Julie often will skip Schadenfreude shows and when people ask why all I can saw is - Red Line Tap, Heartland, two straight years.

And the video that Steve Delahoyde took, good God it looks great. That camera of his is incredible and he REALLY knows how to use it. Great shots, great look. I'll have a couple segments on screening room (one maybe even later today). I put the tapes back in my camera after the show and replayed the show on the tv's and then proceeded to DROP MY 6 YEAR OLD CAMERA 6 FEET OFF THE TV STAND! I just can't believe that fucking camera still works.

But the story of the night was the fact that not only Carla, but Jessie (her girlfriend) cut their hair short! And Jessie cut hers way short. Very cute. Say, that reminds me.

IT'S SHORT-HAIRED CHICK FRIDAY!!!

Where are my manners.



Okay, manners are gone. Look at that hair, so short.



Yes, Shannyn Sossamon, because you could never become a famous actress by being named something so Kansas as Shannon. This is why we're losing Democrats.



Your welcome, world.

Do you remember the story? After all no hot new actor/actress is an actor/actress, they're a story. No indie film is a film, it's a story. Before she started acting, she was PR. The story? This complete unknown regulare gal who was just eeking it out as a dj was just plucked magically out of her dayjob and put in a $100million dollar movie. See it can happen to you, yes you, nobody.



Providing you have an agent, have been modeling for years, are a known commodity already, and are friends with Bruce Paltrow who then hires you to dj a party for his daughter Gwyneth.



And you look like that. Not to belittle the accomplishment or her tits. Wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been stumping.



Hey, that's Carla's haircut, and sometimes fashion choice. The preferred cut of the modern short-haired chick.



Boyin' it up. I'll take it. Of course I will.



Boyin' it up more. She pulls it off very well.



So natural.



That is the very definition of rollover hot. You just woke up after going a couple rounds, she's in her night shirt, having her first morning smoke, and without a bit of makeup or even taking a shower, you'd go another two rounds with her.








Is your boss around? Check before you scroll to the next one.








And oh my Christ. Make sure your boss is not even in this state before you scroll down.








Are you ready?








Are you sure?






Short hair + no clothes + flavor of the day in your pants =







boom. brought.

Who's Up For A Fucking Show Tonight!

We went through the whole show last night, this is going to be a packed evening of entertainment. You're going to love the venue and the old school Schadenfreude feel of a bunch of friends together to jam out. More closing night ceremonies at the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame than comedy show. If we pack the place we might just get the keys to the bar and put on more and more of these. Schadenfreude on a regular show sched? It's been a while.

And now, the bits, Justin style written on the El, the fucking El.



ARGH! The fucking El.

No, scratch that, the fucking me. If I get on the El at 7:55, I get downtown in 20 minutes. If I get on at 8:05, I get downtown in about an hour. Without fail. Every day. Every time. I'm just sitting here right now and haven't moved in a full five minutes (at which time we moved several feet, just enough justify being transit). I'm always just sitting here when I get on after 8. It drives me nuts, not because it's some weird phenonmena, but because I know this is the peril of being ten minutes later, it happens every time.

Uncommon Ground

That one guy at Uncommon Ground looks like Seth Green. Just calling it out. Everytime I go there I know the Seth Green guy works there and yet I'm never prepared to see him, or prepared for how much he looks like Seth Green. Anyone with me on this? If you've been there you're laughing right now, but if you haven't just keep it in mind for the next time you go. One of the best cups of coffee and breakfast you can have in Chicago, my favorite. Everytime I bring a new person to Uncommon Ground, the first thing they say is "Hey that guy looks just like Seth Green." I find it very funny that not a single person has failed to make that comment.

Wasn't Max Headroom great?

Just a lot of joy there. What's the new Max Headroom?

This may seem overly cruel.

But the guys that work at the Walgreens on Broadway and Ridge in Edgewater are all retarded. I've never seen such a collection of misfits in my life. I know I shouldn't say that, but I'm always surprised at the next guy to wait on me. And the next customer in front of me in line to do that bit where they take a ridiculously long time. Will it be the guy who has to go back to get something he forgot? The counting pennies guy? The couple who can't find the coupon in the flyer and must search for it at the counter? Nothing's for certain at the Wal except that the guy at the counter just might be legitimately retarded. Or look like John Bolton.

What I learned in the Red Eye today
Okay, I'm going to guess what the headline on the Red Eye is about. All I can read is "Ace Closed." So I'm assuming the Ace awards (the award for cable excellence) were last night and somebody won. But wait, do the Ace awards still exist? Why would the Red Eye report the Ace awards? Don't cable shows win Emmy's now? Allright, next line: "Good looks only get 'idol' so far...", OH, it was about American Idol, thanks for playing Adam. That's right, it's the Red Eye, of course it was about American Idol. I lose. Wait, no, not me...what is it, oh yeah, society, society loses.

The sub-heading after that is "who in the heck picked Pickler?" I don't know the answer to that. Some fucking asshole?

I wrote this entire blog between Addison and Belmont...yep, that bad.

Robin Williams? I don't know, not ringing a bell, what would I know him from?

Mega S to the H to the O to the U to the T OUT for Otisburg from the Stippster over at Movie Poop Shoot, Chris is quite the supporter and gives you the inside look at the trailer for RV this week. I'd rather have a rusty barb-wire wound pissed on by Mickey Rourke than go see that. Do you remember when you didn't have to be convinced or begged to see a Robin Williams movie? He's worse than bad, he's just irrelevant.

No way.

Secret Wars re-enactors. Great idea. Great execution. Killer punchline.

Happy Birthday Sandy

Fun Facts:

Sandy recognized me as someone he wanted to know when I came to our first Second City class in a Boba Fett t-shirt. I recognized Sandy as someone I wanted to know when he talked about his outside-class writing. I asked Sandy to be in a short film of mine a month later, his line is "Guys, keep it down." I asked Sandy and Kate if they would like to write together with me and Ike Barinholtz in the breezeway of what is now Corcorans across from Second City in October of 1998. The Cafe Ashie writing sessions took place in Sandy and his roommate Joel Friend's dining room on Malden later that year. We wrote Crazy Pants and Darth in Sandy's living room on Addison, where we also watched the premiere of Upright Citizens Brigade and the Bulls win their fifth championship. For Sandy's birthday in 1999, Justin, John, Stephe and myself staged an outrageous piece of performance art in front of the window of an italian restaurant on Broadway where he and Kate were dining. Sandy likes the movie Robot Jox. Tomorrow night I will perform with Sandy for somewhere in the range of the 600th time in a place very similar to Cafe Ashie. Sandy plays a good retard and has an obsession with the phrase "blood engorged."

Happy Birthday SM,

AW

The Ninteties Sucked

I had intended to write at The Grind and then found myself sucked into the basement at the Darktower Comic Book Store in Lincoln Square, 4612 N Lincoln Ave. They have a great sale going on until the end of the month. Pretty much everything is half off including brand new trade-paperbacks, and their basement formerly filled with dollar comics is now filled with fifty cent comics, giving me the opportunity to fill the holes in my Crystar, Starriors, Sectaurs and M.A.S.K. collections



Ah, 80's toy tie-in comics.

While I was down in the basement for five hours something dawned on me. THE NINETIES SUCKED.

For the uninitiated the history of comics in the nineties was written by some real dopes. There were these five artists at Marvel that caused huge spikes in sales, they demanded some extra money for, you know, making Marvel money and were told to go fuck. So they all left at the same time, telling Marvel to go fuck, and formed Image comics. Which would bring Marvel bankruptcy and mankind Martin Sheen's performance in Spawn.

There way only one teensy problem, beyond drawing they were limited creatively







bordering on sucking. At Marvel the heavy lifting had been done for them, giving them little characters like Wolverine and Spider-Man to draw. They...hadn't thought of that. So they proceeded to create hundreds of the most boring characters



few of them discernable from one another besides weapon choice.



Just big huge things with no personality or backstory, just...names.



They all had different names, and big tits and they all fought, and jumped around a lot, and screamed showing all their teeth.



Spina-Bifida POWER!

And they sold like motherfuckers, it was a huge confidence game that lasted for a couple years as the comics were bought up by overexcited teens who loved big tits and guns in their oooooh spooky dark-themed comics and were too dumb to realize that these comics absolutely BLEW!. They were all five pages of people jumping then a preview of some new guy with a TOTALLY NEW NAME available next month.

And the worst part is, Marvel tried to emulate their model, making some of the least memorable Marvel comics in history, with Image emulating shitty character like Rage



(ooooh) and Darkhawk



and Fuckface and Rapist.



All of them available for fifty cents in the basement of the Dark Tower. Just the worst. I was completely out of comics but got a job at this comic book store in Oxford, which I juggled with my video store job because I was the next Kevin Smith. So I have this weird affinity for this shit era. I buy them for fifty cents and just laugh. As a lifelong fan of shitty movies and shitty comics, I must say, for fifty cents Image made the BEST shitty comics