Springfield, Day 9: UPDATED, with pictures

Live from room 225 of the Best Western in Springfield, Illinois...



It's "Do You Know How To Play Plinko?": The Journal of a Booth Manager at The Illinois State Fair.

But before we get started...

Happy Birthday Justin!

August 15th was Justin's birthday. Happy Birthday, JK. Justin and I have had some fun excursions recently that I never wrote about. I'm sure Justin did, unless Nelly did something that day. Schadenfreude got offered a gig through some friends of friends to teach Theatre Camp kids a couple hours of sketchwriting. The whole group was unavailable except for unemployed me and vacation-time-overload-boy Justin, so we headed out to INSERT NAME OF CHICAGO SUBURB THAT I'VE NEVER FAMILIARIZED MYSELF WITH IN A DECADE and got twenty twelve-year-olds to put up sketches. That's where we met the REAL Zoe Dunkel, Kate's overzealous show-tune-singing, cause-supporting, high-school character from our radio show. She had 30 buttons all over her twelve-year-old frilled acid-washed jeans jacket, braces, and yes, she was singing showtunes. Someday we will track her down for Zoe's three-line cameo in Alderman, but until then that will be a thrill that only Justin and I can share in.

If you're a fan of Schadenfreude you will love the cameo's in Alderman. The Zoe joke works even if you don't know Zoe, but anyone who heard the radio show or saw a Rent Party will really bust-up when Zoe shows up for just three lines. You'll also be happy to know the Todd Voorhies grabs five priceless minutes of screentime as well. Also Bernie Casey, as himself.



Since Justin has always been vacation-overload-boy, Justin and I have always had afternoon pow-wow's where we take a day off, get together early, drink some beer and get some writing done. Justin came over last week during the fever pitch that was the last week of writing Schadenfreude's first screenplay, Alderman. Justin and I burned through 80 pages (?...something like that, a lot) in the third-from-the-last revision.

But we didn't always have such aim. Back when Schadenfreude was $5 and a free beer at The Heartland Studio Theatre, I'd go over to Justin's and we'd shoot the shit and if something turned into comedy, it turned into comedy, which became the group's technique. Fuck around, but do it in tight formation.

The best Schadenfreude Show nobody ever saw was for the fifth anniversary of The Playground, who helped us get our start by giving us the Midnight slot at Cafe Ashie in the fucking 1500's. Nobody was around, so Justin and I wrote a fifteen-minute show for ourselves. It was a very raw presentational show full of stunts, randomness, and Justin's brother hog-tied. I also think I did a bit where I pissed myself during a fake improv game.

I'll pull the footage in the screening room.

So Happy Birthday J. I look forward to you burning some of your vacation days writing Phudi Mart with you on Pacific Daylight Time.

Oh, and I got you a birthday gift at the fair, unavailable anywhere, but the fair.

THE FAIR!

Did somebody just segway????

I know, it's written "segue", but I'm not here to flaunt my pedigree. If I write a little fucked up though, forgive me, I've been eating at the Walleye Stop for four-days-straight and I'm retaining mercury.



Boy this makes for such a perfect transition between Chicago and L.A. It's like this perfect job came out of nowhere. I was nervous about moving to L.A. because, well, why wouldn't I be??? Ten years in Chicago, time got away from me. This really is an uprooting, life has a certain rhythm to it, I go here I do this, I do that I do that, I go there and do that. Well now I get this brief trial of a completely different life away from Chicago and the normal machinations of my world. But now I get to go back to the safety and security of my apartment, and then leave, then come back, like dipping my toe into the pool and jumping out. Also, I'm so back to my roots, Springfield is just a big Lewisburg and I'm seeing new versions of the Mike Ballard's and Richard Joneses that I spent so much time with throwing darts to win Twisted Sister mirrors. I feel like I'm taking stock of who I am before I plunge hip-deep into a new influence pool.

But who gives a fuck, right? I've got fair peeps to talk about.

Fair Peeps

The toothless guy is here, the redneck...



the rattail...



The guy running the Cobbler Stop with the "No Fear" tattoo.





No Fear? Hey Buddy, could I get the Blackberry Cobbler with ice cream on top ? I know you won't puss out halfway through.

they're all here, but what're you going to do? Country folk catch such shit for not having all their teeth and being poor and dumb and innocent, but go fuck yourself. Jack Abramoff has all his teeth but I wish him nothing but the worst in prison. Ken Lay showers and wears deodorant but I hope the unlicensed facial reconstructive surgery he's receiving in whatever extradition-less country he bought his way to after his transparently faked "death," goes awry.



Salt-of-the-Earth and thousands more who simply work in rural communities. Things are simpler here, they just don't worry about what we worry about. They don't give a fuck about Pirates of The Carribean's opening weekend draw, and I love that. It's relaxing to just be simple, finding the joy in getting your picture taken with a monkey.

Short-Haired Chick...Monday?

Live from the Days Inn In Springfield, Illinois



It's Short-Haired-Chick...Monday?

So I fucking didn't get to it, geesh.



But what am I going to say about Annie Lennox anyway? Would I lie to you honey? Now would I say somethin' that wasnt' true, I'm askin' you honey would I liiiiiiiie to you? I love singing that song. Annie is kickass, she's never given up on the short-hair, she's fierce, she's independent, and she looks good old. I'd love to picnic with her, talk global politics and then have park-sex.



Meanwhile, I'm in Springfield, IL, living at the Days Inn (which is all Barton Finky weird as a write in my hotel room). I'm working at the State Fair, who could've predicted that five days ago?

This is my flatmate Decklund 5.



Decklund 5 lived on my coffee cup for a few minutes. Decklund 5 showed up after I was working on Alderman at 5am and Decklund 3 crawled across my foot in a perfectly silent hotel room at 5am. Not more than ten minutes later i felt something ticklish on my knee and met Decklund 4. Yes, disgusting. I was as enraged as a sleep-deprived manual laborer can be at 5am as he tries desperately to get the very very very very very very very very very second-to-the-last script revision on Alderman to Sandy by 7am. So went my second night in the hotel.



And now It's time to, Pull Open The 'But'

The whole experience of this random-ass job and this random-ass location and this journey and this alien atmosphere so far has ridden the line of being incredibly exhilarating and so fucking depressing. But, oddly, this is a feeling I enjoy. I want stability, but know I'll be no good as an artist as soon as I have it.



After 10 years of office work I'm working at a fair. Do you know how exciting that is after 10 years of office work? But, I'm working at a fair. Losers do that.



After 10 years of being a city boy I'm back to hanging out with country-folk, which I spent the first 14 years of my life immersed in, it's exciting to be in an atmosphere so warmly memory laden. I went to the Ohio State fair every year with my Mom, Dad 2.0, Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Greg. Every year. Period. Every year. But I guess I never noticed how fucking fucked-up a lot of the people were.



I did manual labor, moved all this stuff around, put up a huge tent, drove a big truck. Manual labor is so mindless it's relaxing, even though it's completely not. But, I forgot what I hated about manual labor, it's not the labor, it's the chitchat. I can't take the chitchat. "I don't know dude, it might rain, what the fuck's my opinion going to add or subtract?"





I can't really stand to see them to play because I see poor people getting poorer at the hands of corporations and advertisers, But I can't turn down the paycheck made by exploiting them. Christ, I'm a Republican, but in my head, I'm a Carny.



Our tent is not on the Midway, we're next to the cowboy hat retailer and two hot-tub retailers. We're across from the Illinois Republicans tent and the Airbushed T-Shirt camper. Incidentally I would like to sum up the entire Illinois State Fair opening day parade in one picture.



It sucked, because parade's suck.

I'm still alive!

Well shit, I haven't blogged in forever. I even missed Short Haired Chick Friday (Don Hall will you ever forgive me?). The catch-22 of running a blog on my life is that the more that happens, the less time I have to tell anyone about it. A lot has been happening, also my internet went down.

BUT, as I write this, I'm sitting on State Route 55 because I was two cars away from being in the biggest traffic accident I've ever witnessed. About a mile back I saw what looked like an undercover Crown Victoria in my rear-view mirror. So I slowed down. And then I saw three cars collide and a semi drive off the road in a puff of brake smoke.



The cars were destroyed. I'm two cars back from the whole thing and cars from behind me start driving around me through the grass to get around it. I thought about doing it, but I've always been the guy that gets busted for doing the thing that three other kids did before me. I'm always the guy that parks amongst 10 other cars in what looks like a parking zone and the only one to find his car towed. They wrecked an hour ago, I can't imagine how long the line of traffic is behind me. AN HOURS WORTH, damn. So I figured while I have the time I'd get some blogging done from the front seat of my SUV.



But what am I doing in an SUV?

Good question. About three days ago I get a call from one of Mike Anderson's co-horts in the Events field about being part of a promotion in. If you've seen one of Schadenfreude's Improv Festival shows then you've probably heard the live music of one of Mike Anderson's bands. Anyway, good pay, hotel, food. Yay! I got work. Of course the opportunity could've waited two days so I wouldn't be an absentee father during the last two days of writing Alderman. That's right, the last two days. We'll get back to that because I just peed in a thermos and traffic is starting to move.

That's right I peed in a thermos. I'm the very third car in front of a full hour of bumper to bumper backed up traffic behind me, how stupid would I be to get off on the first exit and then re-enter on the ass end of this mess, besides I gotta make good time and get to St. Louis.

But why am I driving an SUV to St. Louis?

Why, to pick up the XXXXX vans so I can drive them to Springfield, silly. I'm working for the XXXXXXXXX during the Illinois State Fair.

An Artistic Moment
After caravanning two bigass trucks and vans to Springfield I just checked into my hotel and life became art for a moment.

I passed shitty hotel after shitty hotel gathered in the shadow of industrial smokestacks and various places to ingest coffee and battered treats. There's a stripclub three blocks away, a Bob Evans three blocks in the other direction, both still open, my white trash Vegas. Hotels are the only place I instantly turn the TV on when I enter the room. My bearings still ungathered, a preacher immediately tells me the world is ending.



He states that The Chinese are developing a computer ten times faster than the fastest one now. "You can bet the anti-christ will use that to watch all of us." he says. I'm told the world is ending the moment I step into a dimension void of familiarity with my former world. Lollapalooza, Schadenfreude, Edgewater, Roommate Steve, all theory at this nano-second. My world exists entirely in the frame of the picture window of my surreal hotel room. A painting of decay lit by sodium streetlamp. Or perhaps I'm the painting, listening to how the world is ending while I wonder is what the hell is dancing at Showgirls in Springfield at 1am on a Tuesday?



Tune in tomorrow, Otisburg is on the road for 9 days! I'm like Conan, or Leno, but in Springfield.

Dude!

I'm a carny in Springfield! No time to explain now, I've gotta get to the fairgrounds. Come back tomorrow for the whole scoop!

Comicon!

I've been so busy making a national figure of myself that I didn't have any time to cover the San Diego Comicon. I actually don't have much to cover except Otisburg's masterful correspondent (and giver of free comics to yours truly) Christopher Stipp over at Kevin Smith's Quick Stop Entertainment hit the scene there wearing a Schadenfreude t-shirt and got to see a sneak-preview of Sash "Ali-G" Baron Coen's feature film of Borat.



Which Chris completely flipped out over. saying it was the funniest movie he'd seen since Strange Brew. Good standards, my man.

The only other thing I have to report on the Con is all the cool new images of upcoming cool films.

New Spider-Man posters y'all.

VENOM!


Spider-Man!


CGI Turtles!


Jon Favreau's IRON MAN

You know Jon Favreau, star of Schadenfreude Radio Episode 13. And that's the actual Iron Man design, or pretty close, according to Jon, who has a myspace account where he answers questions about Iron Man.

I think this one is from Luc Besson's Arthur & The Invisibles

Cool imagery.

And this last one may seem a little obscure, but it's definitely cool. Frank Miller has done a lot besides Sin City. He did a comic about Greek warriors called 300.


Well they're making a film about it.



Which is, get this, a shot-for-shot adaptation (wow, great idea!). Go check out director Zak "Dawn of the Dead" Snyder's video journals, they're pretty cool.

Well that was fun

Watched Michelle L'Amour last night on America's Got Talent. God what an obnoxious show. Tv sucks so bad. There's great tv, but that was not it. Michelle made for good tv though. What a cool idea, doing the dance on Knight Rider. I loved it. But she lost, or won, or something I don't even know what the fucking rules were, there was a "check" and then an "X", but you could still vote and the righteous in the audience were offended at a girl who didn't take her clothes off, folding their arms like a Support The Troops Ribbon to make sure other people knew they dissaproved before they went home to drown their kids named after books in the new testament, and Brandy was offended, but I don't know what that means because I don't know who the fuck she is.

Jim called it

Jim McWilliams, my favorite person on Earth called me moments before AGT and told me how proud he was of me. He said if he were about to watch my award-winning performance in some Oxygen Channel original movie he'd still be proud, if he were watching me play a very funny neighbor on Jim Belushi's show he'd still be proud, but the fact that I was the voice of KITT on a shitty game show underscoring a woman taking off her clothes on KITT's hood in front of David Hasselhoff...he said there weren't words to describe. He's right, I'll take that over a walk-on on Battlestar Galactica many days out of the week.

I have a great life
I may not have money, or a job, or own anything, or technically any prospects to acquire any of that in the near future, but dammit I played the voice of KITT (which I loved as a child) to David Hasselhoff, I've also played Tim Thomerson from Metalstorm (which I loved as a kid) at the Neo-Futurarium, I also played Herb Tarlic from WKRP (which I loved as a Cincinnati kid) for our New City covershoot, I played the villain in Up The Creek (which I loved as a kid) for the first It Came From The Neo-Futurarium, I sang jingles about Zartan (which I loved as a kid) for our radio show, and I was never in a band, but dammit I'm playing Lollapalooza tomorrow.

"You're hurt, you're bloggin' man." "I ain't got time to blog."

No time to blog today, I stayed out a little late after Funny Ha-Ha last night (something I failed to mention in my BIG WEEK blog on Monday). That was the best Funny Ha-Ha they've ever thrown. It's too bad Eric Spitznagel couldn't be there, I haven't seen him since the Improv Fest Two years ago. Eric taught the very first, ever, Sketchwriting course at Second City. It was in that class that I met Katie Watson from Sirens who would later write Season 2 of Schadenfreude Radio. Eric has a great new book out called Fast Forward: Confessions of a Porn Screenwriter. I buy all Eric's books anyway, but the subject matter made it an instant purchase, and it's fucking hilarious. Buy it, support Eric, he's good and funny funny peeps. Take your old copy of P.J. O'Rourke's Bachelor Home Companion and Don Novello's The Lazlo Letters off your counter-culture coffee table and give some space to Eric.



In the meantime enjoy this little bit of fun from Roommate Stephe: Every year teachers collect their favorite metaphors used by students in their English classes and these crack me up. I'm not made of stone, I also laugh heavily at America's Funniest Home Videos and think Young Guns is very close to a perfect film.


1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at
high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse, without one
of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because
of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a
formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bagfilled
with vegetable soup.

11 From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy
comes on at 7:00 p.m. Instead of 7:30

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you
fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. Traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. At a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the
East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but
a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as
if she were a garbage truck backing up.