Hop over to Egg City Radio to download a rare Steve Allen album for kids, How to Think--a bit of instruction that many people could benefit from these days.
And then you can download two classic albums from old school blue comedienne Rusty Warren (including her hit song "Bounce Your Boobies") from The Tuna Melt--or better yet, order the CD's from her website! On a related note, there's an interview with Rusty in the current issue of Bachelor Pad Magazine. Get it at your local newsstand--and if they don't have it, ask them why the hell not!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
My Own Religion
The first piece from our newest constributor, Chris Zapatier. You can read his musings regularly at literarylaughs.com.
The first piece from our newest constributor, Chris Zapatier. You can read his musings regularly at literarylaughs.com.
I've decided to start my own religion. Not some fly-by-night cult, but my very own religion. Although my own cult - complete with psychotropic drugs and a harem of teenage wives - sounds incredibly cool, I'm hoping to establish something more long term, something that could still be around 2000 years from now. I‘ve even come up with a nifty name for my faith: Christianity, after yours truly.
Just between you and me, what I really want is power, and lots of it. I realize that the quickest way to come to power is to conquer my fellow Americans and rule them with an iron hand, but I do not currently have an army at my disposal. Besides, I don't want to build my empire on conquered subjects thirsting for revolution; I want the kind of fanatical devotion that only religion can garner.
Right about now you're probably wondering, "Who the heck is gonna subscribe to your religion and why?" I'll tell you who, the lost, lonely and down-on-their-luck, simple folk with simple minds, and those whose lives have been unexpectedly touched by the Grim Reaper in some way. And I'll tell you why, ‘cause I'm going to prey on the fear of death, mankind's Achilles' heel. Consider that throughout the ages, the "meaning of life" has been pondered and debated more than any other subject and is still no closer to being known than the first time it was discussed. If I profess to have the answer to this mystery, I will become more than a king among men, I'll become a king of kings among men. And that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to convince people that they need not question the meaning of life any longer, for life is but a journey to an eternal paradise. If I make people believe that there is a sanctuary from pain and suffering where residents are reunited with long dead loved ones they will gladly devote themselves to lifelong servitude to secure lodging. The best part about this empty paradise promise is that I never have to worry about my dissatisfied customers exposing me as a fraud, by the time they find out they've been had, it's too late! But for this free will extortion scheme to work there has to be commensurate repercussions for failure to practice my faith. There has to be a place equally as bad as my Utopian hereafter is good where those who choose not to embrace Christian dogma will be condemned to spend infinity. I asked five people what they would consider the worst way to spend eternity, and four of them said perpetual burning, so burning it is.
Now let me tell you about Christianity's supplemental literature. Since I dislike writing anything besides humor I slapped together a few Aesop-style fables, plagiarized a handful of stories from ancient religious texts, then wrote myself into some actual historical events to make it read like I was responsible for their occurrence. This book is gonna sell like hotcakes, I won't be happy ‘til there is one copy collecting dust on every Christian's bookshelf. Then I'm gonna turn it into a TV show on Sunday morning - mo' money, mo' money, mo' money'!
Now I must address some of the negatives of spiritual imperialism. My deistic status will no doubt come with a substantial measure of accountability. When puppies get run over, babies are born hare lipped and grannies succumb to cancer, my people will come crying to me wondering why I didn't protect them from Mother Nature's Darwinian standard operating procedures. I've come up with two preemptive, foolproof solutions for this inevitable problem: 1) I'm toying with the idea of a nemesis, an archenemy that exists only to thwart my benevolent agenda, someone or something who revels in perpetuating sorrow, evil, etc. And whenever my followers find themselves waist high in shit luck, they'll know who to blame. 2) Faith. Like the proverbial carrot always dangling a few feet in front of the mule, faith will keep my people working towards their goal of a ceaselessly sublime afterlife. Any questions I cannot answer I'll answer "Have faith." When a member of my congregation wonders why I watch bombs drop on children in the Middle East, or why I don't simply wave my omnipotent hand and feed the multitudes of starving people on this planet, my followers will assure them that there is some divine purpose to my apathy and their suffering. "Have faith," my flock of sheep will baa, "Chris works in mysterious ways." And when I am long gone and my followers begin to fear they've been abandoned, my book will ease their fears with assurances that my return to absolute power is just around the corner, just have "faith."
Undoubtedly, there are going to be certain brainy types who will insist on using science, archaeology, paleontology, and just plain common sense to point out inconsistencies in my book and conundrums in my doctrines. I'm not too worried about them though; I'm going to make them out to be "lost souls" rather than smart skeptics. Besides, I intend to make my people so obdurate to reason that if there is a real God, even he won't be able to undo their brainwashing.
I have big plans for Christianity. If things work as well in practice as they do on paper, my divine brainchild will be global by this time next year. I know how farfetched the idea sounds, but something tells me it just might work.
-Chris Zapatier
I've decided to start my own religion. Not some fly-by-night cult, but my very own religion. Although my own cult - complete with psychotropic drugs and a harem of teenage wives - sounds incredibly cool, I'm hoping to establish something more long term, something that could still be around 2000 years from now. I‘ve even come up with a nifty name for my faith: Christianity, after yours truly.
Just between you and me, what I really want is power, and lots of it. I realize that the quickest way to come to power is to conquer my fellow Americans and rule them with an iron hand, but I do not currently have an army at my disposal. Besides, I don't want to build my empire on conquered subjects thirsting for revolution; I want the kind of fanatical devotion that only religion can garner.
Right about now you're probably wondering, "Who the heck is gonna subscribe to your religion and why?" I'll tell you who, the lost, lonely and down-on-their-luck, simple folk with simple minds, and those whose lives have been unexpectedly touched by the Grim Reaper in some way. And I'll tell you why, ‘cause I'm going to prey on the fear of death, mankind's Achilles' heel. Consider that throughout the ages, the "meaning of life" has been pondered and debated more than any other subject and is still no closer to being known than the first time it was discussed. If I profess to have the answer to this mystery, I will become more than a king among men, I'll become a king of kings among men. And that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to convince people that they need not question the meaning of life any longer, for life is but a journey to an eternal paradise. If I make people believe that there is a sanctuary from pain and suffering where residents are reunited with long dead loved ones they will gladly devote themselves to lifelong servitude to secure lodging. The best part about this empty paradise promise is that I never have to worry about my dissatisfied customers exposing me as a fraud, by the time they find out they've been had, it's too late! But for this free will extortion scheme to work there has to be commensurate repercussions for failure to practice my faith. There has to be a place equally as bad as my Utopian hereafter is good where those who choose not to embrace Christian dogma will be condemned to spend infinity. I asked five people what they would consider the worst way to spend eternity, and four of them said perpetual burning, so burning it is.
Now let me tell you about Christianity's supplemental literature. Since I dislike writing anything besides humor I slapped together a few Aesop-style fables, plagiarized a handful of stories from ancient religious texts, then wrote myself into some actual historical events to make it read like I was responsible for their occurrence. This book is gonna sell like hotcakes, I won't be happy ‘til there is one copy collecting dust on every Christian's bookshelf. Then I'm gonna turn it into a TV show on Sunday morning - mo' money, mo' money, mo' money'!
Now I must address some of the negatives of spiritual imperialism. My deistic status will no doubt come with a substantial measure of accountability. When puppies get run over, babies are born hare lipped and grannies succumb to cancer, my people will come crying to me wondering why I didn't protect them from Mother Nature's Darwinian standard operating procedures. I've come up with two preemptive, foolproof solutions for this inevitable problem: 1) I'm toying with the idea of a nemesis, an archenemy that exists only to thwart my benevolent agenda, someone or something who revels in perpetuating sorrow, evil, etc. And whenever my followers find themselves waist high in shit luck, they'll know who to blame. 2) Faith. Like the proverbial carrot always dangling a few feet in front of the mule, faith will keep my people working towards their goal of a ceaselessly sublime afterlife. Any questions I cannot answer I'll answer "Have faith." When a member of my congregation wonders why I watch bombs drop on children in the Middle East, or why I don't simply wave my omnipotent hand and feed the multitudes of starving people on this planet, my followers will assure them that there is some divine purpose to my apathy and their suffering. "Have faith," my flock of sheep will baa, "Chris works in mysterious ways." And when I am long gone and my followers begin to fear they've been abandoned, my book will ease their fears with assurances that my return to absolute power is just around the corner, just have "faith."
Undoubtedly, there are going to be certain brainy types who will insist on using science, archaeology, paleontology, and just plain common sense to point out inconsistencies in my book and conundrums in my doctrines. I'm not too worried about them though; I'm going to make them out to be "lost souls" rather than smart skeptics. Besides, I intend to make my people so obdurate to reason that if there is a real God, even he won't be able to undo their brainwashing.
I have big plans for Christianity. If things work as well in practice as they do on paper, my divine brainchild will be global by this time next year. I know how farfetched the idea sounds, but something tells me it just might work.
-Chris Zapatier
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Comedy on the Web Roundup 3/4/08
Some good reading on comedy from across the blogosphere:
Kliph Nesteroff has published a piece on the WFMU blog on burlesque comedy legend Tubby Boots. Kliph frequently posts about lesser-known comedians of yesteryear--look through the archives and you'll find some fascinating stuff!
Clarence Beaks at CHUD.com has a great review up of George Carlin's latest HBO special, It's Bad For You. Nailing the mentality of a comic perhaps a little too well: "Stand-up comedy attracts the young, but it only suffers the bitter. Even the comics who seem well-adjusted harbor a bubbling hatred of their fellow man; it just so happens that it sometimes manifests itself in the smashing of watermelons or wisecracks from a woozle named Peanut. But there's nothing anodyne in their efforts to amuse you. They're doing it for your fleeting approval. And once the laughter's dissipated, they're back to lamenting your existence."
Finally, from Jim Emmerson's Scanners blog, a lengthy, multi-sourced essay/survey on Black Humor from Steppin Fetchit to Richard Pryor to Tyler Perry. Quoting third hand from Good Times writer Bob Peete: "There is a real difference between black humor and white humor. The chief distinction is that black humor is more attitudinal; it's not what one says, but how one says it." Read the whole thing. There are some fascinating insights, and links to several other pieces on the topic.
Kliph Nesteroff has published a piece on the WFMU blog on burlesque comedy legend Tubby Boots. Kliph frequently posts about lesser-known comedians of yesteryear--look through the archives and you'll find some fascinating stuff!
Clarence Beaks at CHUD.com has a great review up of George Carlin's latest HBO special, It's Bad For You. Nailing the mentality of a comic perhaps a little too well: "Stand-up comedy attracts the young, but it only suffers the bitter. Even the comics who seem well-adjusted harbor a bubbling hatred of their fellow man; it just so happens that it sometimes manifests itself in the smashing of watermelons or wisecracks from a woozle named Peanut. But there's nothing anodyne in their efforts to amuse you. They're doing it for your fleeting approval. And once the laughter's dissipated, they're back to lamenting your existence."
Finally, from Jim Emmerson's Scanners blog, a lengthy, multi-sourced essay/survey on Black Humor from Steppin Fetchit to Richard Pryor to Tyler Perry. Quoting third hand from Good Times writer Bob Peete: "There is a real difference between black humor and white humor. The chief distinction is that black humor is more attitudinal; it's not what one says, but how one says it." Read the whole thing. There are some fascinating insights, and links to several other pieces on the topic.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Review: Dane Cook - Vicious Circle
This review was originally published on the now-defunct movie blog The Fake Life. Due to overwhelming demand, we are reprising it here. 
By Bobbie Oliver
There is a lot right with modern standup comedy, but Dane Cook represents none of it. You know how if you love onions, you can’t imagine anyone not liking them? Or if you hate onions, you can’t imagine anyone not hating them? Well, I hate onions, but I would rather eat an onion for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the rest of my life than ever watch another Dane Cook DVD. But, 1,651,838 MySpacers disagree. And so do the 18,000 rabid fans that filled Boston’s TD Banknorth Garden to watch 132 minutes (yes, that’s two hours and twelve minutes) of Dane Cook’s Vicious Circle, the Dane-gerous Edition (I swear I didn’t make that up). Countless others, ok somebody counted but I refuse to look it up, have made the self-proclaimed “Superstar Comedian” Dane Cook’s comedy album, Retaliation, a top seller for 71 weeks.
Celine Dion will always sell more albums than They Might Be Giants. Dane Cook will always sell more albums than Patton Oswalt. Let’s face it, hack sells. But, then, how would the cool kids distinguish themselves from the posers if every talented artist made millions? Who said 1,651,838 MySpacers can be wrong? I do.
To be fair, I’m not the best audience for Vicious Circle. As a standup comic for the last 20 years, I’ve seen A LOT of comedy. I’ve heard a lot of jokes. I’m probably a lot like the judges on American Idol who want to slit the throat of the next ten year old girl who sings “Tomorrow” from Annie or kick the shit out the fifteen thousandth person they heard perform “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” My favorite comedy is smart comedy. I like jokes you have to get. Hell, I’m a sucker for a joke period. Please, Dane, just one joke. Dane Cook wouldn’t know a decent set up/punch if it literally punched him in the face, which is exactly what I plan to do if I ever see him out in the clubs in LA. He owes me for 132 minutes of my life that I will never get back.
There are four types of comedians. There is the poor guy that no one thinks is funny. There’s the guy that comics love, but audiences don’t get. There’s the guy that audiences love, but other comics hate. And there’s the comic we all strive to be, that audiences love and other comics respect. Dane Cook is the third guy. Audiences love him, especially jocks and frat boys and the kinds of girls that can’t wait to pull up their tops for a “Girls Gone Wild” video. I am none of those.
But, there were 18,000 of them loving every minute of watching Dane perform in the round on Vicious Circle. I actually think doing standup comedy in the round is a great idea, but this was more of a stunt than the craft that is standup. During his set, three groups of people approach the stage. The drunken jock was handled pretty well, I think. Dane acknowledged him, picked on him a little, and then sent him away. The two sets of girls that approached the stage were told to “show us your boobs,” which they did, and “make out with each other” which they did. Can you imagine this happening in any other standup act? Ok, stop imagining two girls making out and pay attention.
Comics are usually a well-balanced combination of low self-esteem and cocky shit head. Dane Cook does not have a low self-esteem. Comics are usually people whose mother didn’t love them (us). Dane Cook’s mother probably told him everyday that he was the funniest, smartest, most talented kid on Earth. So did William Hung’s mom. It seems obvious to me while watching him perform that Dane Cook had a happy childhood, and frankly, I resent him for it.
Vicious Circle begins with Dane Cook coming out like a rock star with his spiky hair and tight jeans. Hell, even the picture of him on the cover is a cocky shot with him arrogantly pointing at the camera with an overconfident, smart aleck look on his face. I would like to believe that audiences look for something different in their comedians than they do their movie stars, rock stars, and supermodels. In those people, we want cool perfection. But, in our comics, we want to see ourselves. We want vulnerability. We want to know that we are not the only one who feels this way or does stupid shit. But, you’ll get none of that from Vicious Circle. No humility, no vulnerability.
The most important skill you can have as a comic is the ability to self-edit. Dane Cook has never edited one thing he’s written (or the bits he has stolen from the likes of the very funny Louis CK). Vicious Circle is 132 minutes of one long pointless rant, going on tangent after tangent and never delivering the punch. It’s a big shaggy dog joke that needs to be trimmed. Granted, Dane Cook is a good performer, I’ll give him that. But, a wordsmith he is not. He doesn’t craft his jokes; he doesn’t choose every word carefully and lay them out in a poetic melody like Shakespeare writing in iambic pentameter.
He is more Three Stooges than Richard Pryor, which is fine unless you are selling your comedy as standup. All throughout this DVD, he hops around the stage like a little animated bunny, punctuating every thought with a wacky face or funny sound effect. It’s like standup comedy for deaf people without the closed-captioning. It’s comedy for people with no sense of humor.
He’s basically saying, “look at me, look at me…just don’t really look at me.” I didn’t feel like I knew anything more about Dane Cook after watching this performance than I did beforehand. He does not let himself be known. Doing pure standup comedy is like jumping out of an airplane naked and skinless. But, Dane jumps fully-clothed with 10 parachutes from the 2nd floor of a very short building. Zero risk.
I watched this DVD with my 22 year old nephew who would be the ideal audience for it (you know, if his IQ were lower); someone who laughed whenever Dane said “blowjob” or made jokes about Halle Berry taking a shit. But, even he got up and left me after an hour, laughing at me for being obligated to sit it out to write this review. I have sat through many movies that were three hours long and never once looked at my watch. After five minutes of Vicious Circle, I was counting down the time like a prisoner waiting for freedom, swearing to never commit this offense again.
Then there’s the 10- minute encore of some horrible song he played on a guitar that the fans all seemed to know (he said it was on his website). Like the other 122 minutes, it was self- indulgent and self- important crap. And, might I also point out that his little “Su-Fi” hand symbol is clearly ripped off from Fishbone? If you ever see anyone make this symbol that is not wearing a Fishbone t-shirt, run away very quickly.
To put it simply, Dane Cook is not my cup of tea. But, hey, if you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, then you’ll probably love Dane Cook’s Vicious Circle. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go eat a raw onion and get this bad taste out of my mouth.
By Bobbie Oliver
There is a lot right with modern standup comedy, but Dane Cook represents none of it. You know how if you love onions, you can’t imagine anyone not liking them? Or if you hate onions, you can’t imagine anyone not hating them? Well, I hate onions, but I would rather eat an onion for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the rest of my life than ever watch another Dane Cook DVD. But, 1,651,838 MySpacers disagree. And so do the 18,000 rabid fans that filled Boston’s TD Banknorth Garden to watch 132 minutes (yes, that’s two hours and twelve minutes) of Dane Cook’s Vicious Circle, the Dane-gerous Edition (I swear I didn’t make that up). Countless others, ok somebody counted but I refuse to look it up, have made the self-proclaimed “Superstar Comedian” Dane Cook’s comedy album, Retaliation, a top seller for 71 weeks.
Celine Dion will always sell more albums than They Might Be Giants. Dane Cook will always sell more albums than Patton Oswalt. Let’s face it, hack sells. But, then, how would the cool kids distinguish themselves from the posers if every talented artist made millions? Who said 1,651,838 MySpacers can be wrong? I do.
To be fair, I’m not the best audience for Vicious Circle. As a standup comic for the last 20 years, I’ve seen A LOT of comedy. I’ve heard a lot of jokes. I’m probably a lot like the judges on American Idol who want to slit the throat of the next ten year old girl who sings “Tomorrow” from Annie or kick the shit out the fifteen thousandth person they heard perform “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” My favorite comedy is smart comedy. I like jokes you have to get. Hell, I’m a sucker for a joke period. Please, Dane, just one joke. Dane Cook wouldn’t know a decent set up/punch if it literally punched him in the face, which is exactly what I plan to do if I ever see him out in the clubs in LA. He owes me for 132 minutes of my life that I will never get back.
There are four types of comedians. There is the poor guy that no one thinks is funny. There’s the guy that comics love, but audiences don’t get. There’s the guy that audiences love, but other comics hate. And there’s the comic we all strive to be, that audiences love and other comics respect. Dane Cook is the third guy. Audiences love him, especially jocks and frat boys and the kinds of girls that can’t wait to pull up their tops for a “Girls Gone Wild” video. I am none of those.
But, there were 18,000 of them loving every minute of watching Dane perform in the round on Vicious Circle. I actually think doing standup comedy in the round is a great idea, but this was more of a stunt than the craft that is standup. During his set, three groups of people approach the stage. The drunken jock was handled pretty well, I think. Dane acknowledged him, picked on him a little, and then sent him away. The two sets of girls that approached the stage were told to “show us your boobs,” which they did, and “make out with each other” which they did. Can you imagine this happening in any other standup act? Ok, stop imagining two girls making out and pay attention.
Comics are usually a well-balanced combination of low self-esteem and cocky shit head. Dane Cook does not have a low self-esteem. Comics are usually people whose mother didn’t love them (us). Dane Cook’s mother probably told him everyday that he was the funniest, smartest, most talented kid on Earth. So did William Hung’s mom. It seems obvious to me while watching him perform that Dane Cook had a happy childhood, and frankly, I resent him for it.
Vicious Circle begins with Dane Cook coming out like a rock star with his spiky hair and tight jeans. Hell, even the picture of him on the cover is a cocky shot with him arrogantly pointing at the camera with an overconfident, smart aleck look on his face. I would like to believe that audiences look for something different in their comedians than they do their movie stars, rock stars, and supermodels. In those people, we want cool perfection. But, in our comics, we want to see ourselves. We want vulnerability. We want to know that we are not the only one who feels this way or does stupid shit. But, you’ll get none of that from Vicious Circle. No humility, no vulnerability.
The most important skill you can have as a comic is the ability to self-edit. Dane Cook has never edited one thing he’s written (or the bits he has stolen from the likes of the very funny Louis CK). Vicious Circle is 132 minutes of one long pointless rant, going on tangent after tangent and never delivering the punch. It’s a big shaggy dog joke that needs to be trimmed. Granted, Dane Cook is a good performer, I’ll give him that. But, a wordsmith he is not. He doesn’t craft his jokes; he doesn’t choose every word carefully and lay them out in a poetic melody like Shakespeare writing in iambic pentameter.
He is more Three Stooges than Richard Pryor, which is fine unless you are selling your comedy as standup. All throughout this DVD, he hops around the stage like a little animated bunny, punctuating every thought with a wacky face or funny sound effect. It’s like standup comedy for deaf people without the closed-captioning. It’s comedy for people with no sense of humor.
He’s basically saying, “look at me, look at me…just don’t really look at me.” I didn’t feel like I knew anything more about Dane Cook after watching this performance than I did beforehand. He does not let himself be known. Doing pure standup comedy is like jumping out of an airplane naked and skinless. But, Dane jumps fully-clothed with 10 parachutes from the 2nd floor of a very short building. Zero risk.
I watched this DVD with my 22 year old nephew who would be the ideal audience for it (you know, if his IQ were lower); someone who laughed whenever Dane said “blowjob” or made jokes about Halle Berry taking a shit. But, even he got up and left me after an hour, laughing at me for being obligated to sit it out to write this review. I have sat through many movies that were three hours long and never once looked at my watch. After five minutes of Vicious Circle, I was counting down the time like a prisoner waiting for freedom, swearing to never commit this offense again.
Then there’s the 10- minute encore of some horrible song he played on a guitar that the fans all seemed to know (he said it was on his website). Like the other 122 minutes, it was self- indulgent and self- important crap. And, might I also point out that his little “Su-Fi” hand symbol is clearly ripped off from Fishbone? If you ever see anyone make this symbol that is not wearing a Fishbone t-shirt, run away very quickly.
To put it simply, Dane Cook is not my cup of tea. But, hey, if you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, then you’ll probably love Dane Cook’s Vicious Circle. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go eat a raw onion and get this bad taste out of my mouth.
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