Brykmania

The Time I Kissed Grace Paley on the Mouth

2011-10-14T15:59:00.002-04:00

I’m sitting in a workshop at Juniper, UMass, Amherst’s summer writing program, a program I enrolled in solely because Grace Paley was teaching. It’s 2005. For years, I’d been obsessed with two fantasies: one, to hear Ms. Paley say a kind word about my writing and two, to kiss her on the lips. The first part I could understand, as I was hoping for a quotation I could stick on a book jacket. The second, I’m not so sure about. I think I thought maybe I could glean some secret wisdom that way. I’d made a pact with myself: I would slip her the tongue if need be, if our passions were so aroused, and from that point I would play it by ear.
Two years later, she passed away.
Alternet describes a recent NY screening of Grace Paley: Collected Shorts, a new documentary: “The lights were hardly back on when [the audience] started talking, telling stories...about this arrest and that action...the talk continued in the lobby and on the street, and, I imagined, on the subway rides home, and on the phone later, and at some meeting or rally, before too long.”
On the eve of the anniversary of her passing (Aug 22nd, 2007), I’d like to keep the discussion going.
So I’m in her class, like I said, and we’re workshopping my short story. It’s a story I assume she’s going to like, since, after all, I stole pretty much everything from her. I mean it was all in there: the witty spousal banter, the pith, the holocaust ending. It was downright manipulative.
My classmates are saying the usual this and that—the dialogue is confusing; it’s hard to know who’s saying what, etc.—when Grace puts her copy down and looks up and asks me to read a section aloud. And as I do so, her face goes sour. She is clearly disappointed. Moments later, everybody’s making the same face, their features all squished-up and whatnot. What’s going on? I’m wondering, Was my joke about the Hasidim so offensive that they have all joined forces and conspired against me?
Then I pause for a moment and realize there's a strange noise in the room, the buzz of bad circuitry. What the hell is that? A smoke detector? A HAM radio? A spaceship landing at South College?

Ach, not again, Grace says.
She shakes her head, then whacks the side of it a few times, harder than you’d think appropriate for an old broad like her. Finally, she tilts her head to one side, reaches into it by way of an ear, and pulls out something that at first glance looks to be a giant ball of wax.

It’s her hearing aid. And it’s humming like a Hendrix amp. She tries shaking it some more, but to no avail. Here, she says, handing it to me, You’re a man. Take a look at this, would you? For the last six months it's been making me sound all crazy in my own head. Like I'm talking through a megaphone. Like it's Greenwich Village in the ‘60`s. I can't tell you how unsettling it is.

Even with my Y chromosome, I said, handing it back to her, There’s not much I can do with this. You should probably just get a new one.
Ha! She said, turning it down and sitting it back in her ear, You know how much they want for a new one?
(the answer was thirteen hundred, in case you were wondering, too exorbitant a price, even for New York's first official writer.)
The thing’s embarrassed me many times, Grace continued, It started really taking over my life, you know, intruding on other people’s phone conversations: Grace, pardon me, but could you stand over there? You're beeping on my frequency. Or else I'm out at a party: Listen, listen. Does anybody else hear that? No, no. Grace, are you okay? Have you been taking your medication? Seriously, Grace, have you been taking your medication? What are you talking about? I said, I'm not even on medication! Not that kind anyway, knock on wood. I thought I was losing my mind, the first time it happened. Literally I thought I was going nuts, you know? All of a sudden, a baby, crying in your head? And then footsteps and somebody says, Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay...I thought maybe it was God. I thought maybe this is how it happens. I thought maybe dying is some great eternal shushing. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just like when your born? Your mother holding you, going, Shhhhh. Shhhhhhhh. So I went to see my doctor. Turns out it was just the lady down the hall. I’m picking up her baby monitor! I told the doctor, Can’t you just give me a pill or something? Pretty soon other things start showing up: police scanners. That was a good one. I’m sitting at home writing, everything's going along great, and suddenly somebody calls in a two-eleven. What the hell's a two-eleven? I’m sorry, where were we?

There was only one drawback to Grace's workshop: she loved everything. She had opinions, sure, but they were all positive. She said it herself: the older you get, the less you give a shit about the small stuff, and the more you appreciate the larger things: the blessing of consciousness—albeit temporarily—and the absurdly profound odds against any of this happening in the first place, given the staggering age and magnitude of the universe and all.
She was perfectly satisfied just being around young writers, all of whom loved her and were overjoyed to share a room with her, to breathe the same air, that she couldn't find it in her heart to say an unkind word about any of it.

Class ended and we all filtered out and I was halfway back to the dorm when I realized she hadn’t chimed in on my story. I biked back to Bartlett Hall as quick as I could and caught her just as she was being helped into her Toyota.
Grace! Grace! I yelled, What’d you think of my story anyway?
She looked at me in a way that made me wonder if she even remembered which story it was. Then she motioned me closer. I released my ten-speed and bent down and inserted my face in her Japanese window, whereupon she proceeded to immobilize me by grabbing my collar with both hands. She had some grip, too! I saw her face begin to rise up and I knew she was coming for me.
All in all, it was a pretty moist exchange, especially considering I tried to keep the tongue action to a minimum.
Honey, she said, her hands still on my cheeks, It’s as good as anything out there.

2011-02-04T12:16:00.001-05:00

Selling Everything I Own

2010-11-12T14:19:00.008-05:00

Over the course of the next year or so, I will be selling off everything I own, literally. One item at a time, on eBay. My eBay handle is booksrwe. The hope is that by the end of a year I will have amassed enough to make a down-payment on a house. I realize this is unlikely.
At any time you like, you can view all my auctions by clicking here.

Today's Item is a "Radio"-flask made by Royal London in 1968. Up for auction is a rare "Radio" Flask from Royal London, dated 1968. Mint condition in mint box. Box reads: "Complete with 2 Self Contained Shot Glasses and Funnel" "Holds a full pint of your favorite brand."
Looks convincingly like a real radio. I don't think this was ever used, at least I know it was never used by me. One of the shot glasses is still wrapped in plastic, though it looks like one of the snap-tabs is separating due to age, as shown. Otherwise, it is in perfect condition.

I purchased this when I thought I was going to be doing a lot of public drinking. Which turned out not to be the case. And now that I have children, the possibility seems ever more remote. To be honest, the mere fact of having this on my bookshelf has creeped out some of our more conservative guests. Whatever. I guess some people just can't appreciate a well-made "Radio" flask.

I must admit, the thing's construction was partially the reason I never used it. Even moreso than the thought of being caught in public sucking bourbon from a giant 60's "Radio." It concerned me that the thing was made out of some indefinable 60's Chinese plastic, there's no glass liner or anything, also that there is really no way to clean it. It may be that bourbon cleans itself, of that I cannot be sure.

The 'antenna stem' acts as the spout of the thing - you unscrew a cap and have a tit, so you can imagine how small the opening is. Which is why it comes with its own funnel. I appreciate its social graces, though, the fact that it also comes with two shot glasses, when flasks usually come with exactly no shot glasses, the point being you would just swig it from the bottle. Also, the leather or leatherette case is reminiscent of 60's auto-upholstery, back when they made cars with back seats you could have sex on. Not like today.

Besides which, these days, nobody ever walks around with anything closely resembling this kind of massive monaural beast, so it kind of defeats the purpose, even should I suddenly feel a desire to start drinking in public. Inconspicuousness is no longer its strongsuit. It immediately draws attention to itself, particularly when held upside-down having its juice sucked out of its antenna. Now, an iPhone flask, that something I might have to look into.

It does look good on a shelf, however, and still possesses that indescribable ironic haughtiness people seem to like. If you're looking for a "Radio" flask, you can't go wrong with this one. A solid investment all around. Own a piece of history!!

You can bid on it here.

This blog has moved

2010-04-30T10:31:00.001-04:00

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Story Time

2009-09-25T11:52:00.001-04:00

Hi all,

Recently, I had the pleasure of reading at one of Tracy Slater's Four Stories reading nights in Central Square. Four Stories is a literary series bridging Greater Boston’s nightlife and arts community. Each event features appearances from some of the most acclaimed authors in the nation, all reading their work under a unified theme.

Click to hear the reading.

Everybody's Talking!

2008-10-28T12:07:00.002-04:00

Some of you are saying, "Okay, where's the new baby, already!" Others of you are saying, "What? What new baby? They haven't mentioned anything about a new baby."

We, meanwhile, are saying things like: "Out of your mouth! What did you eat?!" But that's only because we are talking to Noa. Our every conversation with her is filled with directives like: "Be a good girl," and "Don't put that in your mouth." I've come to learn that fatherhood means constantly taking things out of my daughter's mouth. She is unable to walk in the yard without attempting to eat everything out there, and for some reason she is most interested in dead leaves. The other day, I unearthed an entire acorn shell. She may have eaten the acorn. We'll find out eventually.

The new baby has not yet arrived. The due date was October 26th. It is a boy. I apologize to those who are just finding out about this now. We'll be sure to keep you better informed on this blog, in the very near future.

We are having a home birth (FMD's!), so all flowers, chocolate, money, etc. may be sent directly to us.

— Brykman

Huh?

2008-06-15T22:41:00.002-04:00

One of the ESPN announcers just announced that in the first quarter, Kobe Bryant quote "came out like a house of fire."

Anyone care to tell me what that's supposed to mean? Anyone?

Comedic Genius Confirmed

2008-04-15T17:13:00.003-04:00

Yet again my comedic genius has been reaffirmed.

This headline ran on today's Yahoo front page:
Some gay couples are having trouble obtaining divorces

This is a trend I had predicted some years ago, though obviously as a gag, on the National Lampoon website. And now it has come to be! Here's my take:
After Marriage, Gay Couple not so Happy

Who wants to hire me now??? Come on, let's hear it! I'm not proud. I'll consider all offers.

Readin' this Thursday

2008-03-31T10:18:00.007-04:00

Come on down to the Middle East in Cambridge this Thursday at 7:00PM (corner room) for a reading of the latest in Insomnia Anthologies: AWAKE: A READER FOR THE SLEEPLESS. Available for purchase HERE. featuring the three Steves: Yours truly, plus Steve Beeber and the hilarious Steve Almond.

also FREE BEER (really)

This email came in today

2008-01-11T18:10:00.000-05:00

This showed up in my inbox today, from Rob Willington :

"Did you read the papers today...?
Both the Boston Globe and Boston Herald have reported that Deval Patrick is trying to jump over the legislature to give in-state tuition to illegal immigrants. This is outrageous.
We need a movement to stop Deval. Signing this petition below is just a small, small start. Can you email this petition along to your friends and urge them to sign it as well? The louder we are, the more effective we will be.
Here is the link http://www.massgop.com/GetActive/Petition.aspx to sign the petition.
Thanks,
-Rob

Robert Willington
Executive Director
Massachusetts Republican Party"

To which I responded:

Dear Mr. Willington,

You’re so right! Much better to keep them poor and/or stupid!!!! Finally, a Republican who acts with the compassion for his fellow man Lincoln was famous for! I’m so glad you’re the executive director!

Yours,
Steve Brykman

The Great Wheel of China

2007-11-06T15:56:00.000-05:00

I'm not making this up. I just read that the new Beijing Great Wheel will be 682 ft tall when finished in 2009, making it the highest and largest in the world.

The most incredible thing about it though, is it's going to be made entirely out of lead.

Here's the thing.

2007-06-19T21:43:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking. Why does Bush feel comfortable asking our soldiers to die to protect our freedom when he assumes the rest of us Americans would rather give up our freedom than die?

I gotta wonder: if our soldiers are expected to give up their lives to protect the idea of freedom, then hell, maybe we should be too, right? Shouldn't we be willing to take a little bit of mass destruction, so long as our freedom remains intact? Isn't that what everybody's always hootin' and hollerin' about? So some of us die, maybe a lot of us die. But isn't it hypocritical to ask our soldiers to die for our freedom when, clearly, we'd rather give up our freedom than die?

The Naked & the Nude

2007-02-13T20:44:00.000-05:00

Some of you have been wondering, "When is Brykman going to perform comedy naked?" Well, wonder no more, fellow wonderers, for last week I participated in Andy O'Fiesh's Naked Comedy Showcase at ImprovBoston, showcased five to seven minutes of naked Jewiness, and it was all covered on the evening news. Be sure to click "watch the video" to roll the clip.

More in the way of Standup Gigs

2007-01-28T19:07:00.000-05:00

Come on down to UMass Boston this Tuesday (1/30)
for the "Colossal Comedy" show

100 Morrissey Blvd.
Boston, MA 02125-3393
617-287-5000

Location: UMass Campus Center Ballroom

Here's a map.

I'll be doing a 20 minute set and will try to be extra colossal!

iDollars!

2007-01-10T18:24:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for something to do, I think at this point it would be a wise business decision to trademark every word in the English language, with the letter "i" stuck in front of it. With the exception of iRan and iRaq, which I believe are already spoken for.

Sno

2007-01-05T16:35:00.000-05:00

I had a feeling that as soon as I invested in a snow-blower it would suddenly stop snowing. But I had no idea this would happen. At 4:30 PM it still 63 degrees outside and it's supposed to be the same tomorrow. I'm sitting outside in a t-shirt, typing this. I feel I can no longer in good conscience protest global warming.

Progress at Last

2006-12-29T17:23:00.000-05:00

So now it comes out that former president Ford (R.I.P.) was critical of Bush's Iraq policies almost from day one. Until just recently, criticizing Bush's handling of Iraq would have got your phone tapped.

Today it gets you a National Day of Mourning.

So that shows some progress, I suppose.

Van Funnier

2006-11-30T12:57:00.000-05:00

Folks,

There’s a new two-disc edition of National Lampoon’s Van Wilder DVD out. It’s called the “Van Gone Wilder Edition.” And I’m on it!

Here's the story. About two years ago, a couple of Lampoon guys and I recorded a “Drunken Idiot” audio commentary track for the movie, literally by smoking & getting drunk while watching the movie (three times in a row). By the last time through, we were so messed-up that, at one point, Mason just started repeatedly shouting the C-word at Tara Reid big image on the screen.

Which is probably why Lions Gate originally rejected the track.

But times have changed. We’ve learned a lot of lessons from 9/11. Apparently, our conception of vulgarity has been kicked up a notch or two. Apparently Lions Gate thinks so. Or at least they think this way they can sell some more Van Wilder DVD’s.

Or maybe they edited that part out. What do I know?

Click the image to buy it.

Go ahead. Do yourself a favor. Pick up a copy. Makes a great stocking stuffer! You won’t be disappointed. I remember being pretty funny. Until the third time through, that is. That one I can't remember at all.

A Humorous Good Time 4 U

2006-11-20T17:18:00.000-05:00

Got nothing to do this Saturday night?

Well, then, come on down and see some great comedy with yours truly!

It's the Charles River Comedy Fest
at the famous* American Legion Marsh Post #442

Plus cheap drinks! All for a measly five bucks!

Sat: 11/25 @ 8 PM
5 Greenough Blvd
Cambridge, MA
617-576-2646

* I have no idea why it's famous.

He's History...

2006-11-12T11:58:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, in his weekly radio address, Bush went with the old "history will record" line again: “History will record that on Secretary Rumsfeld’s watch, the men and women of our military overthrew two terrorist regimes, brought justice to scores of senior al Qaeda operatives, and helped stop new terrorist attacks on our people,”

I think what history's going to show is that Bush and his buddies sullied the reputation of the Republican party for decades to come and turned the entire civilized U.S.* into a nation of Democrats!

*this particular phrasing naturally precludes Texas.

Bumsfeld

2006-11-12T11:57:00.000-05:00

Think of it this way. How are we expected to believe Rumsfeld could have possibly been tough enough to tackle Al Qaeda, when he's too chicken to take on Nancy Pelosi!!

Wait a minute. I'm having second thoughts about this whole Rumsfeld stepping down thing. I mean, I know it's only been a few seconds since I wrote that first sentence, but suddenly I just don't feel safe anymore. I'm concerned there just isn't enough torturing going on.

I think I'm going to circulate a petition.

Just like XMas morning!

2006-11-08T18:19:00.000-05:00

It feels just like Christmas!*

I mean, I expected Rumsfeld to get taken eventually out by the Democrats, but I didn't expect him to split so quickly on his own. What a pussy!! Funny how all of a sudden he doesn't seem so concerned about leaving our troops without a commander. Cut and run, pussbag!!

*assuming I was a Christian, and one present, the Democratic control of the Senate, was left unopened.

Finally!

2006-11-06T20:10:00.000-05:00

Like alligators eating their own young (or is it crocodiles), the Republicans have at last turned on their own and out-flip-flopped even Kerry. By their own arguments such statements would have been considered practically treasonous say, twelve months ago. Seen as aiding the enemy, diminishing troop morale, etc. But now I guess it's okay for even the most conservative Republicans to say the Iraq war's a big pile of shit. Somebody pinch me. Is it really true?? Could they have actually called the president and D. Rumsfeld "dysfunctional," and "incompetent"? Funny how they all suddenly realized it all at once like that. After so long. When so much evidence was there.

Former top Pentagon adviser Richard Perle went so far as to say, "At the end of the day, you have to hold the president responsible."

Okay. So, like, when do we start?

Here's the article:
In November surprise, top cheerleaders of Iraq war abandon Bush

by Maxim Kniazkov
WASHINGTON (AFP) - And now they have had a change of heart. Only three days before a crucial congressional election in which Republicans are poised to suffer heavy losses, top US neoconservatives, who had cheered the US invasion of
Iraq, admitted that the operation may not have been that necessary, after all.

In separate interviews with Vanity Fair magazine, former top
Pentagon adviser Richard Perle, White House speechwriter David Frum and Reagan administration arms control negotiator Kenneth Adelman continued to insist that toppling the Iraqi government of Saddam Hussein was a noble thing to have done.

But they argued that the execution of the plan by President George W. Bush, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and others, was nothing short of "incompetent."

Perle, who once chaired the Pentagon's Defense Policy Board and in that capacity argued that Iraq was "a very good candidate" for democracy, said bluntly that if he could turn back the clock, he would not recommend invading Iraq now.

"I think if I had been delphic, and had seen where we are today, and people had said, 'Should we go into Iraq?,' I think now I probably would have said, 'No, let's consider other strategies,'" the patriarch of neoconservatives told the magazine's December issue.

He insisted he still believed Saddam Hussein had the capability to produce weapons of mass destruction and there had been a threat he could transfer these weapons to terrorists.

But three and a half years and more than 2,820 killed US troops later, Perle asked a rhetorical question: "Could we have managed that threat by means other than a direct military intervention?"

"Well, maybe we could have," he responded.

He went on to complain, without specifying, that decisions that should have been made in the execution of the war came either late or not at all.

"At the end of the day, you have to hold the president responsible," concluded the neoconservative ideologue.

Adelman, who once said that liberating Iraq would be "a cakewalk," was less contrite, arguing that policies that served as the foundation for the March 2003 invasion of Iraq were sound, but their execution was fraught with "huge mistakes."

Throwing party loyalty out the window, Adelman said that the Bush administration "turned out to be among the most incompetent teams in the post-war era."

"Not only did each of them, individually, have enormous flaws, but together they were deadly, dysfunctional," he continued.

Frum, who helped write Bush's famous 2002 "axis of evil" speech, bemoaned what he described as "failure at the center" for the current bloodshed in Iraq.

As opposed to traditional conservatives who have always had a penchant for isolationism, neoconservatives advocate aggressive promotion of US values throughout the world. They have long showcased Iraq as a test case for their approach.

But opinion polls indicate nearly 60 percent of Americans now believe the war is was not worth fighting.

And the Rothenberg Political Report, an independent analytical firm here, predicted Friday that Republicans will most likely lose five to seven Senate seats and 34 to 40 seats in the House of Representatives when voters go to the polls on Tuesday.

Hosting Tonight...

2006-10-20T13:12:00.000-04:00

If you're in the mood for some dinner-comedy tonight (dinner not required) come on down to Kennedy's Midtown where I'll be hosting the comedy showcase.
7 - 9 pm.
42 Province St.
Boston, MA

Oy Gevalt!

2006-10-15T18:53:00.000-04:00

I'm guessing this little news item goes under the category of "Not Good For the Jews."

But this is!
This Friday, Oct. 20 I will be hosting the Boston Comedy Showcase
at Kennedy's Midtown
This time, it's a dinner show (dinner not required, but the food's wicked good).
Doors at 6:30pm. Show from 7-9pm

Utter Wonder!

2006-09-26T21:07:00.000-04:00

Here's another exciting Brykman-centric event for you not to miss!^*
It's the Utter Wonder Humor Reading Series

Free of charge!!

Sunday October 1
Plough & Stars
912 Massachusetts Ave
Cambridge, MA

Come. Drink. Laugh. Though not necessarily in that order.

^*Especially my cousin Jeffrey who recently asked, "What kind of people go to those things?"

Also, for thems that can't make it on the 1st, I'm doing standup at Kennedy's Midtown again, on Friday the 15th of Sept. @ 9:30. 42 Province St. Boston, MA. I'm sure I'll have a graphic for that one, soon, for those of you who like graphics.

A Little New Years Gift

2006-09-22T22:52:00.000-04:00

Q. Hey, did you hear the one about the Jewish oldies band?

A. You know...Rosh Sha Sha Na Na!!!!

That one's a gift. You can keep that one.
Go ahead. Pass it around. You know you want to.

It's Official...

2006-09-22T17:03:00.000-04:00

Well, now it's finally official, folks. According to AP news, Bush has killed as many Americans as Osama. But look how far we've come. I guess it's true: two wrongs really do make a right.

War price on U.S. lives equal to 9/11

Come to think of it, exactly how many terrorists have we killed, anyway? Could somebody help me out with that figure, for some reason I can't seem to find it online.

Another gig...

2006-09-20T11:41:00.000-04:00

I'll be doing some more standup tomorrow night - Thurs. 9/21
9:15 PM
@ Dick's Beantown Comedy Vault @ Remingtons Restaurant
124 Boylston St^*

Hope to see you there!

^*There will be no jokes about my pregnant wife's nipples, unless in response to intense popular demand.

Mo Standin Up....

2006-09-09T09:03:00.000-04:00

Standin' up Tonight!

2006-08-25T15:37:00.000-04:00

Please for the love of God come to my standup show tonight: 8/25!
Doors open at 9pm. Show starts around 9:30. Only $5 cover!

It's part of the Boston Comedy Showcase
@ Kennedy's Midtown
42 Province St.
Boston

Click here for a map.
This is sure to be an eye-opening show for you! That's all I'm gonna say.

Show tonight!

2006-08-24T16:59:00.000-04:00

For them's of you out there in Boston with nothing fun to do tonight, fret no more! For the greatest comedy show in the world happens every Thursday night at the ImprovBoston Theatre right here in Inman Square!! And tonight, I'm in it.

Featuring the world-famous Walsh Brothers!
10:00PM the Great & Secret Comedy Show

The ImprovBoston Theater
1253 Cambridge Street (Inman Square)
Cambridge, MA 01239

Here's a map.

Fear This?

2006-08-15T11:33:00.000-04:00

This morning I saw a car with a bumper sticker that read: "FEAR THIS!" in all caps like that, next to a picture of an American flag. A Buck, I think it was. Or a Pontiac. In the window above it was a decal of Calvin (the cartoon character) kneeling in prayer before the Cross, so I'm assuming the sticker wasn't meant to be taken in an ironic, anti-war kind of way. Rather, I think the bumper sticker was meant for the terrorists themselves. That it's meant as a warning to the terrorists that they better back off and start fearing America and all it stands for. Which is odd considering they don't even fear dying. Seem pretty darned bent on it, actually. So my guess would be fear is not one of our best weapons when it comes to dealing with terrorists. I mean, you gotta admit, our harps and angels and poofy clouds don't hold a candle to 72 virgins, especially when you've been staring at burkas your whole life.

Anyway, it's a funny message to stick on your car. And I think it says something. I think it says that we've all been driven so crazy nutso with fear and feel so unsure of how to respond to it and so powerless to do anything about it that the only thing we think we can do is put an angry sticker on our car intended to be read by people who we pray to God will never get close enough to our car to read them.

That's weird, right?

Warning: Possible 'Too Much Information' Ahead

2006-08-05T23:41:00.000-04:00

Raegan has three theories to explain why we have not yet conceived a baby despite months of diligent attempts, utilizing the latest state-of-the-art ovulation–identifying devices, followed by sleepless non-ovulatory nights spent studying reference works like Taking Charge of Your Fertility and Making a Baby: Everything You Need to Know to Get Pregnant.

Her theories are as follows:

1. The ‘Sack Too Tight’ Theory
While it is true my testes may appear tighter than the average male’s, I have always presumed they were doing what they were meant to. In order to maintain viable spermatozoa, testicular temperature needs to be a few degrees lower than body temperature (98.6 F) (which is the reason we have testicles in the first place). I always figured my body temperature was simply lower than average, hence my close-kept nuts. Further, my “high-balls” have always provided the added benefit of keeping my penis propped up, which not only looks good in pants, but also means I don’t have to hold my schlong when I pee. It pains me to hear my problem-free sack maligned with such presumptuousness, particularly by my own wife.

2. The ‘Mysterious Red Dots’ Theory
In short, there are a million inexplicable tiny red dots on my testes. To me they simply look like blood vessels that are running close to the surface of the skin, ensuring an adequate blood supply to the places that need it most. And no doctor has ever expressed concern at their presence. But in Raegan's eyes, the dots, if connected, would spell out a lifetime of childlessness.

2. The ‘Laptop Addiction’ Theory
Just recently, a report came out that claimed chronic laptop users were at risk of being rendered infertile. Not because a) they were big nerds who were on their computers all the time instead of going out and getting laid, nor b) because the computers emit some sort of newly-discovered sperm-zapping radiation, but simply c) because they get hot. I’m sure there’s an internet porn joke in here somewhere, but I’m typing this on my laptop and my sack is on fire and I’m in far too much pain to construct one. Here's the thing. In my case, laptop-caused-fertility certainly seems like a genuine possibility. I’ve owned nearly every model of Macintosh laptop ever made, starting with the Mac 100. There certainly have been times when my computer got so hot you could have cooked an egg on it. Perhaps even two of them.

Myself, I have only one theory and it's not a very good one. Naturally, it assumes that I am in perfect health and that Raegan is, in fact, the problem. I call it:

3. The “EBR-1” Theory
While driving through Idaho on our Honeymoon, Raegan and I happened across EBR-1, or 'Experimental Breeder Reactor-1'. EBR-1 was the first facility to produce electricity generated by nuclear energy in the U.S., maybe anywhere, I don’t remember. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s not a whole lot to do in Idaho, so we were psyched. EBR-1 seemed to promise just the sort of vaguely frightening retro-kitch we were after.

Inside, our vaguely frightening tour guide happily showed us the reactor. Shielded by a pane of glass, like a porthole, was the core. The guide had assured us the reactor had been deactivated and that even at the peak of its productivity, it produced only enough energy to power the plant itself, so I had Raegan get her face right down on the glass and peer down into it, for what I figured would be an amusing shot. Little did I know the photo would lead to a lifetime of tragic sterility.

Make me one with everything.

2006-08-03T10:11:00.000-04:00

Once, several years ago at Joshua Tree, intoxicated from psilocybin mushrooms, and encompassed by cacti now fractaled as a Hendrix poster, the contrivance of time was revealed, and I bore witness to the unified nature of existence.

So that was cool.

Then a funny thing happened. I envisioned the origin of the universe: primordial strands of genetic material propelled through time, whizzing and evolving through the millennia, the whole of it rotating as if on the axis of a grand alpha helix, like something in a bad sci-fi movie, until the DNA finally came hurtling up through our very bloodlines, in the bodies of our own nameless ancestry, until it screeched to a halt with Raegan and me.

And there we were. After all that hullabaloo. Standing around as though nothing had happened. Then suddenly the genes themselves in all my cells were shouting, pleading with me: Make a baby, buddy! You’re nothing but a link! A rest stop. We’re genes, for Chrissake!! Don’t fuck with us. Keep us moving. We got places to get to you can’t even fathom with your piddling twenty-first century brain.

So, okay. Fine. Who am I to argue?

PS: Don't forget my reading!
Tomorrow night. 9 o'clock.
DIRE LITERARY SERIES
OUT OF THE BLUE ART GALLERY
106 PROSPECT STREET, CAMBRIDGE, MASS
Here's a map
Hope to see you there.

Come to my Reading this Friday!

2006-07-31T18:51:00.000-04:00

If you're around the Cambridge, MA area this Friday (Aug 4), please come on by my reading at 9 o'clock. It's part of the DIRE LITERARY SERIES held at the OUT OF THE BLUE ART GALLERY located at 106 PROSPECT STREET, CAMBRIDGE, MASS

Here's a map

Hope to see you there. I'll do my best to read something funny and endearing.

More details here!

Viva la Bush! Viva la disease!!!

2006-07-19T18:39:00.000-04:00

I am so psyched that Bush decided to use his first Veto against the Stem Cell Research Bill, I am considering shaving my Impeachment Beard. I am just sick and tired of people trying to mess around with God's plan to give people diseases. If you have a disease, it's because God wanted you to have it...especially AIDS! Sucka!!

Hey, wait a second. Here's a thought. What if we only used tissue from Iraqi civilian embryos for stem cell research? I know Bush said all that stuff about the Stem Cell Bill, like that the bill "would support the taking of innocent human life in the hope of finding medical benefits for others," but nobody in the Bush administration seems to have a problem with wiping out Iraqi civilians, right? I mean, after all, he's already taken out forty thousand of them! That's a lot of stem cells!! Next time, Mr. Bush, don't rush to veto. All it takes is a little outside-the-box thinking.

Here it is!

2006-06-23T18:59:00.000-04:00

For those of you who missed my debut appearance on G4TV (which I'm assuming is most of you), here it is in all its 8 second glory*:

*also be sure to note my old Lampoon buddy Mason Brown with a fine Paris Hilton bit!

Not that this should surprise anyone...

2006-06-22T23:27:00.000-04:00

But Reuters just ran a story, the headline of which reads: "Americans prefer video to national parks: study." It continues: "Americans are less interested in spending time in natural surroundings like national parks because they are spending more time watching television, playing video games and surfing the Internet, according to a study released on Tuesday."

To this end, Raegan and I will be spending the next 3 or so weeks in natural surroundings, driving around in Madge, our Westy camper, doing what most Americans apparently no longer like to do, and then putting it up on the internet so those who don't like to do what we're doing can watch us doing it while doing what they do like to do.

Here is our approximate route. Then it's over and around through Michigan's U.P. (upper peninsula), where Raegan's family has what I believe can still — unless things have changed — be called a house, and then down into Chicago for her cousin's wedding. Hopefully, we'll have showered by then.

Stay tuned. We'll try to post stories, photos, and video as often as possible, though given the general wi-fi limitations of the great outdoors, I can't say how frequently that will be.*

*actually, the first two nights of our trip will be spent in a cushy hotel room in Ottowa, Canada. But after that, we're roughin' it! Bring on the banana boats and bears!

Be Sure to Watch G4TV Tomorrow Night @ 7

2006-06-16T11:03:00.000-04:00

For those few of you who may be interested, I'll be on G4TV tomorrow (Saturday) night, sometime around 7PM in the show Filter. The subject of the show is "Make your own Sex Tape", which sounds as though it could be either hilarious or disastrous. Hopefully, I'll be saying things of a humorous nature. I vaguely remember discussing the difficulties inherent in the menage a trois, though, of course, I have no idea what comments they're using.

For those of you attending our party, we'll be sure to have the t.v. on and will run the recording on a continuous loop for the remainder of the evening. Assuming, that is, that I'm any good. If it turns out to be utterly humiliating we'll simply throw the television out the window and go on with our rock n' rolling as if the whole thing never happened.

A Night in Ashuelitz

2006-06-06T09:14:00.000-04:00

If you're planning on doing any camping anytime soon, be sure to avoid the Ashuelot River "Campground," L.L.C. (for reasons soon to become obvious) in New Hampshire. Raegan and I were taken in by the mellifluous name (pronounced Ashweelot) and by the website. It's an impressive website. I don't remember seeing a covered bridge anywhere, though I do recall seeing a considerable number of broken-down automobiles in the surrounding neighborhood. The website reads: "The campground offers a new bathhouse, with laundry facilities and FREE hot showers." The washer & drier were out of order, and I can only assume that by FREE hot showers, they meant FREE cold showers, which is what they were.

If you take a look at the actual shower stall, you'll see why we called the place "Ashuelitz." Suffice it to say, it was worse than the one in Crespo's apartment. That spigot knob in the middle is the kind you have above your garden hose. It had two settings: on and off. The showerhead itself was of the deadly watersaving variety that hurls tiny needles of aerated water at you at somewhere around the speed of light. At least I assumed it was the speed of light, because, in accordance with Einstein's theory, time slowed to a near-stop. When I finally rinsed off, I noticed I was turning blue. Convinced I had contracted either a rare skin condition from accidentally making contact with the walls, or had simply become hypothermic from being jabbed with microscopic icicles for what felt like the last millennia, I tried to turn off the water, only to find the metal knob impossible to move with even marginally soapy hands. Desperate for an alternative escape method, I panicked and ran screaming from the stall to the warmth and comfort of my wife and Westy.

Here's a map of the campground from the website. As you can see, it looks very nice. But what they fail to show you is the massive highway just on the other side of the river. Here's an updated map I made.

Granted, it's an artist's rendering, but I'm confident this is the map the campground would be legally required to distribute, were they not an L.L.C. The traffic noise was constant. I had no idea they even had that many cars in New Hampshire. It was way louder than our own neighborhood. It was louder, even, than our neighborhood in L.A., where we had a fire station at the end of the street and a homicide about every twenty minutes.

In the early morning, we got Madge going, high-tailed it on out of there, and headed over to Mt. Monadnock State Park, which is were he should have gone in the first place.

How to spend a birthday...

2006-05-22T14:04:00.000-04:00

Mom's birthday was a couple days ago. As is customary to our family tradition, we spent the afternoon in a local restaurant discussing which foods we were unable to eat. My sister Shelley naturally did the most talking, her digestive system being incapable of accomodating anything with milk, cream, butter, sugar, and/or chocolate. My father, too, was proud of the many varied food groups his gout and diabetes prevent him from eating. As a vegetarian, Raegan felt confident she could surpass both of their dietary restrictions, until I pointed out that she only chose not to eat meat.

The discussion became heated, and eventually, I was forced to disqualify her from the competition.

Then it was back to my folks' house for cake!!

PS: I'm not sure about the specifics on this, but I'm pretty sure it's now illegal to sing the National Anthem in a language other than English.

Postdiluvian...

2006-05-16T17:38:00.000-04:00

We've had so much rain lately (I'm sure you've heard) that for the last few days this is the only way Raegan and I have been able to get to work:

Just kidding. We work out of the house (which miraculously remains completely dry). That's a picture of us going to see a movie.

Which, by the way, if there's anything about art that you actually like, do not go see Art School Confidential.

Though Nick Swardson's funny and good, as always.

PS: It's still raining...

Now this?

2006-05-11T19:44:00.000-04:00

So now they're saying the NSA has a massive "secret database" of everyone's phone calls in an effort "to build a database of all calls within the country"? I don't know about you, and Les, you may differ, but to me that just feels weird.

Bush said, "the privacy of ordinary Americans is fiercely protected in all our activities." I guess he meant "fierce," as in a lion protecting a lamb.

Raegan's vision...finally realized!

2006-05-04T16:49:00.000-04:00

Well, this was Raegan's original photoshopped vision of how our home should look...

And here's an un-photoshopped picture of the house now.

Not surprisingly, people driving by have literally stopped to check it out!

For comparison, here's a shot of how the house originally looked:

Pardon our appearance...

2006-04-28T17:30:00.000-04:00

After a major server crash, the Brykmania blog is back online.

Though you may notice there are no pictures, audio files, or videos. Please bear with me. I'm getting to them.

In the meantime, I have stories coming out in two new books. The first is an anthology of short fiction called Awake! A Reader for the Sleepless. Available for purchase on Amazon.

Or here if you'd rather have the British version.

The second is a considerably less reputable new National Lampoon anthology containing some of our recent magazine parodies. Also available on Amazon.

A Patriot's Day Story

2006-04-19T17:36:00.000-04:00

Monday was Patriot's day, which in Boston, is a big deal — and in Lexington (home of the 'Shot Heard 'Round the World') is an even bigger deal. Having grown up in Lexington, I like to stop by on major holidays and see how the action (and the fried dough) is. This year, Raegan and I made it out for the afternoon parade. There was a strong military presence, something I didn't remember there being so much of in the past, with marchers and bands from the Army, Navy, Air Force, and National Guard. Not to mention a bunch of vintage military vehicles.

Jokingly, I turned to Raegan:
"I wonder how long it'll be before Nance drives by."

I've always known our next-door neighbor, Nancy B. to be a big Macher (מאַכער) in Lexington, though I was never quite sure what she did.

And as soon as I spoke the words, there she was, at the wheel of a Pontiac convertible, waving like Miss America and handing out miniature flags. You know the kind: tiny dowels with the flag part stapled on (btw: isn't that illegal, stapling the flag?).

"I gotta catch up to her. She'll get a big kick out of it. It'll be hilarious."

Or so I thought. In hindsight, I realize I miscalculated. I forgot to factor in the fact that this day was Nancy's one shining moment in an otherwise paradeless year and that having me, an Impeachment-Bearded freak, walk up to her car and address her as though we actually knew each other, would not only pull focus from her as driver-of-a-vehicle-in-the-parade, but may actually jeopardize her position in the town, whatever that position might be.

Nevertheless, a brisk walk and I was beside the car.

"Hi Nance," I said. "How you doing? How's about a flag?"
"They're for the kids." She said without a moment's hesitation.

I glanced in the back seat. They had literally thousands of flags, rolled-up, packed in boxes marked MADE IN CHINA.

"Well, how bout for a patriotic adult, then?"
"Where's your Red, White, and Blue?"

The funny thing is, I was wearing Red, White, and Blue. All three, in fact.

"You're joking, right? Let me have one for Raegan."
"Nope."
"Well, then, how about a flag for your neighbor who you've lived next-door to for the last thirty or so years and who you've helped raise-up yourself from the tender age of three, causing your own begotten son to become so enamored of our faith that he married into it, meaning all of your grandchildren will forevermore be Jews?"
She thought about it for a moment.
"Sorry, no can do."

I walked away, defeated and flagless, feeling I had lost the love of a neighbor: a neighbor who in times past felt close enough to us to stop by, unannounced, with a pie or a potato salad and sit in our kitchen, gossipping at long length to my patient mother on the topic of things mom probably couldn't have cared less about.

I wondered if maybe there wasn't a law that says if you're handing out thousands of cheap U.S. flags in a Patriot's Day parade in Lexington, MA (birthplace of American liberty) and a fellow American comes up and asks for one, that you are obligated to oblige.

Then I realized it wasn't a law. It was just common courtesy I was thinking of, and that Nancy had in fact become a real politician after all.

IB on the Huffington Post!

2006-04-14T23:31:00.000-04:00

In its search for "the next big [online] viral success story," the Huffington Post is running what they call a "Contagious Festival." Naturally, a vast majority of the entries have names like "The Big Dick" or "2004 was stolen!" or even "F-- you Mr. Cheney." So I submitted my Impeachment Beard to the contest, and wouldn't you know it, I'm up to #17 in the popularity rankings!

But it's all about how much traffic your site gets. Not this site, that is, but the one I mirrored on the Huffington server. So, please, do me a big favor and
click here to go to the IB blog on the Huffington site, and score me a hit.

Thanks!!

Also, I've got a widget! After all, what good is an Impeachment Beard without an Impeachment Beard widget, right? Not only will this widget act as a desktop iTunes remote, it also displays a self-updating photo of the world's first-ever Impeachment Beard!

You can get it right here!

(Mac version only. Yahoo version on its way!)

Week Ten

2006-04-08T12:15:00.000-04:00

www.impeachmentbeard.com
Join the movement.
Send me your beards!

Further proof of the power of the beard:

A scant 40 percent of the public approves of Bush's performance on foreign policy and the war on terror, a low-water mark for his presidency.

Just 35 percent of the public approves of Bush's handling of Iraq, his lowest in AP-Ipsos polling.

French Fry

2006-04-04T17:57:00.000-04:00

This new jobs law in France seems to be creating quite a tumult with the kids. Seems even the French want to fire the French. Industrious teens retaliate by fighting "you're fired" with...

2006-04-02T20:41:00.000-04:00

I know it's none of my business, but for whatever reason, our neighbor across the street has decided to cut down every tree on his property (about seven of them). I'm stumped (pun intended). I mean, these were beautiful, mature trees we're talking about. I just don't get what could possibly drive someone to do such a thing. Are they gonna put in a bunch of condos?? Who hates trees that much? Are they insane? Here's a before and after. You decide.

Before: Primordial Sylvan Paradise.

After: Barren Desolate Wasteland.

On the plus side, at least now we have an unobstructed view of J.C.

2006-03-31T12:23:00.000-05:00

What a relief to see that American reporter Jill Carroll has finally been freed! Ironic though that the Iraqis are liberating us.

Just saw a commercial for Basic Instinct 2 - with yet another leg-crossing scene (censored for tv). If I'm not mistaken, the tagline for the first Basic Instinct was: "Holy crap, it's Sharon Stone's vagina!!" So I'm assuming the tagline for the sequel will be something like: "If you thought Sharon Stone's vagina looked good in the first Basic Instinct, wait till you see how it's held up fourteen years later!"^*

^*Actually, I just put that joke in there to boost traffic (in more ways than one). I'm assuming millions of people are constantly searching the web for the phrase 'Sharon Stone's vagina.' There, now I typed it thrice.

2006-03-30T14:24:00.000-05:00

Well, Raegan and I are back from L.A., though our sleep cycles have yet to catch up with us.

When we lived in L.A. (just nine short months ago), I was in this improv comedy show called The Fortune Room. It was a lounge act spoof. Stan, the theater manager, had said if I was ever in town I should just drop in and play drums, so I decided to take him up on the offer and packed-up my electronic drums.

There was a general celebration at my arrival, but this excitement, sadly, did not translate into funny. Here's a video to illustrate my point.

But after the show, I stepped up to a guy in the audience who had a big white beard and asked him if he was interested in joining my impeachment beard movement.

He shook his head:
"I'm a Japanese Buddhist," he offered without provocation.
"You're Japanese?" (he sure didn't look like any Japanese guy I knew)
"No, no. I'm a Japanese-Buddhist."
"Oh, you mean, like, hyphenated."
"What?"
"Nevermind. How long have you been a Buddhist?"
"Six weeks."
"Huh. How did you decide to become a Buddhist?"
"It all happened after I went into a Buddhist temple. As soon as I heard all the chanting and the praying, I had an epiphany."
"Wow! Really?"
"Yeah, and I realized my true name."
"That's amazing!"
"Santa."
"I'm sorry?"
"Santa. As in Claus."
"You realized your real name is Santa?"
"I became a party clown. I'm Clownsanta!"
He handed me a business card. A large red sticker read: "SANTACLOWN"
"I thought you said Clownsanta."
"Yeah, well. I already had the stickers printed up."
"Bummer. Is this really your email address?" I stumbled through it: namm-yo-ho-ren-gek-yo-542@yahoo.com?"
"It means 'Let us all give reverence to the one central, unifying force of the universe'."¹
"Sounds like a good idea to me. What about the 542?"
"nammyohorengekyo@yahoo.com was taken."
"You're kidding."
"I wish."

I excused myself and, while packing up my drums, realized my mistake. I had forgotten we were back in Los Angeles. From a safe distance, I peeled up the edge of the red SANTACLOWN sticker.

Underneath it read: "AKA Alan Neal." Way less catchy. Nobody's going to hire Alan Neal, party clown, so I guess the whole Buddhism thing was really working for him.

1. I'm paraphrasing.

2006-03-16T21:40:00.000-05:00

We've been so busy with Got Your Nose, I haven't yet had the chance to write about the New York G4TV shoot, so here goes. I'm apparently going to be in three episodes, depending on how the editing works out and how funny it turns out I actually was. The shows will air sometime in June. They wouldn't let me bootleg the festivities, though, so you'll just have to stay tuned...

While in NY, I stayed with my old Boston buddy (and fellow National Lampoon editor) Sean Crespo. He lives in a nice area just bordering Central Park where the rats are particularly social. While Sean's site offers a tour of David Taylor's apartment, I think it only fair to offer you a tour of Crespo's. First of all, the whole place is on a 30 degree slant. Take a looksie. See the top of the bathroom door frame? That's not photoshop. That's settling.

It's a decent-sized one bedroom right off Central Park, but one side of the building has apparently settled about a foot lower than the other. If that sounds like a lot, it's because it is. None of the doors close except the main one and I'm guessing that only closes because Crespo planes it down himself every couple of days. But at a mere $1200 a month, it's a steal.

Fortunately, the fold-out couch was positioned perpendicular to the slant such that my head was higher than my feet (though I'm not sure how Crespo and his girlfriend, in their parallel bed) avoid rolling on top of one another. Crespo says he doesn't sleep and I'm guessing this is why.

On the other hand, I don't remember getting any sleep either. Those pull-outs are brutal. You always wind up with that horizontal steel bar at L4. And they have what must be the loudest clock ever manufactured. I was already consumed with trying to come up with clever things to say for the G4TV people, and now every tick-tock is segmenting my thoughts into 1-second intervals. Where other people are soothed by the surrogate mother's heartbeat, as a drummer, I am driven almost to the brink of madness. I can't help but think of it as a metronome; my mind fills the gaps with syncopated rhythms. I wound up singing Johnny Cash's Jackson to it. I couldn't help it. It's around the same tempo (60 bpm). But I couldn't remember all the words so in between dreams and mediocre jokes it was one verse over and over for eight solid hours.

Oh, and it was hot. Like Africa hot. Apparently, with extreme settling comes uncontrollable heat. At around 3 am I was forced to remove all my clothes and lay naked on the comforter, singing Jackson to myself and racking my brains for the funny. But nothing seemed funnier than lying at a 30 degree slant in 120 degree heat at 3 in the morning with a bar across ones back and a clock ticking like a harbinger of certain death. I considered turning on the tube and watching some public access amateur-porno but, thanks to the heat, I slipped into a brief coma before I had a chance to act. Then the pigeons started in. I don't know if they were mating inside the window itself, because the shade was drawn, but they started in a-cooing and kept it up for the rest of the night. There was a general scratching and carrying on and I presumed something big and sexy (pigeon-wise) was going down.

That's all for now. Stay tuned tomorrow for more vaguely startling details!

2006-03-10T10:10:00.000-05:00

When they named the place "The Littlest Bar," they weren't kidding. I mean, it was like a scene out of a Marx Brothers movie. We squeezed four bandmembers in a space the size of a couple phone booths. The lead guitarist sat above me in the windowsill, the bass player sat literally on the bar, and the lead singer kept whacking me in the head with his guitar. My back's still sore from hunching over. But it was a real fun gig, my first since moving back to Boston. We filled the place up (not hard to do in a bar that holds 38 people) and managed to play a two hour set.

Here's a conversation that transpired between drunk girl and band:
Drunk Girl: Hey, can I sing a couple songs?
Me: I don't know. You'll have to talk to the boss. Hey, Adam. She wants to sing.
Adam: What tunes do you know?
D.G.: Last Dance by Donna Summer.
Adam: What?
Me: She said Last Dance by Donna Summer.
Adam: Do you know Folsom Prison?
D.G.: What?
Me: He said, 'Do you know Folsom Prison? You know, the Johnny Cash tune."
D.G.: I don't know that one.
Me: That's because you're not in the band.
D.G.: How about Van Morrison? You guys know any Van Morrison?

P.S. Behold the power of the beard...

Bush's Approval Rating Falls to New Low
5 Vermont Towns: Impeach Bush

2006-03-08T18:22:00.000-05:00

If any of you are in the area, my band Weather Kings will be playing tonight (Wednesday) at "The Littlest Bar" in Boston from 9pm - 1am. Located at 47 Province Street.

Really. That's the name. Holds 38 people so hopefully we won't have any trouble filling the place. Hope to see you there!

2006-03-01T10:56:00.000-05:00

This evening I have to drive into NYC to do some bits for G4TV. It's a gamer's network but apparently they're branching out, trying to become more like Spike. They're beginning to put together shows like VH1's 'best of' shows. You know the kind — where they intersperse 3 minutes of video footage from the 1970's with 20 minutes of comedians so desperate to get on tv they're willing to talk about it somewhere in the deep recesses of a cheap motel room far, oh so far from their homes. Apparently, I am one of those comedians. I think it costs around a dollar to produce these things.

I'm going to try to bootleg the festivities, so stay tuned...

2006-02-26T15:22:00.000-05:00

At last, the significance of the Impeachment Beard project is finally being realized! I got a call the other day from a woman who's putting together a documentary about hair and, having recognized the obvious historical & political impact of the Impeachment Beard, wanted to include a segment on my growth. So that's fun.

Our good friend, Kevin came by and installed some wainscoting in the extension. If you're in need of some handmade furniture, he's your man.

We got a lot done over the past few days. But yesterday, Raegan and I celebrated Shabbat by taking a much-needed holiday in our basement (the "Rumpus Room," as Dan Z. coined it). We played some songs, drank some beers, sang some Karaoke, and threw some darts.

Overall, it was quite a learning experience. For one thing, I learned that Raegan's voice is considerably superior to my own. We're trying to learn Jackson, by Johnny Cash, which is a great song for a married couple, but I can't even pretend to pull off Cash's voice, regardless of whether or not I'm drumming at the time.

We're also working on Snoop Dogg's G'Z and Hustlas. Check out Raegan laying down the groove.

2006-02-22T22:58:00.000-05:00

After just a couple weeks, my Impeachment Beard is already generating considerable controversy, albeit in my own home:
"Hey, watch it! Your hairy face just poked me in the eye!"
"Oh, sorry, honey."
"I can't even kiss you anymore without getting a mouthful of hair. Are you ever going to shave that thing?"
"I can't shave it! It's an impeachment beard!"
"What does that even mean? There's no such thing as an impeachment beard."
"There is now."
"You can't impeach a president by growing facial hair!"
"Not alone, I can't. But if enough men grow them, then..."
"Then what?"
"Then maybe people will realize..."
"It's like I married a wooly mammoth."
"Hey, I'm trying to start a national movement here!!"
"Yeah, good luck with that."
"I got the domain. impeachmentbeard.com. It wasn't taken."
"What a shocker."
"I'm building a website."
"I saw it. Nice jpeg."
"Hey, it's a start. Everything's going exactly according to plan. These days, even the Republicans don't like Bush."
"And your beard had something to do with that?"
"Not directly. I think the sudden Republican-on-Republican wrath stems more from Bush trying to sell off six U.S. ports to the United Arab Emirates. A pretty dumb thing to do after you've just spent the last four years brainwashing the country into being scared shitless of Arabs."
"Don't change the subject. Once again, you're just trying to sneak your liberal agenda into your blog by way of our witty banter. Besides, what's all that got to do with us? I mean, no one even knows you're growing an impeachment beard."
"Oh, they will. They will."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Just because you say something twice doesn't make it true."
"Oh, but it does. But it does."
"I've been thinking. Maybe I should start a movement."
"Shoot."
"Impeachment armpits. I'll have women across America growing out their armpit hair until the government has no choice but to impeach the president."
"Hey, not bad! I wonder if the domain is taken..."

2006-02-16T23:03:00.000-05:00

We've been incredibly busy with Got Your Nose, having just landed our first Warner Bros. job, so I haven't had time to do or write much else. So in lieu of words, here are a couple of poorly recorded tunes from the latest jam of my new band "Weather Kings." Enjoy them, if that's at all possible. Far better quality recordings to follow. But for now, back to work.

2006-02-14T15:12:00.000-05:00

Just read that on the AP news wire that "The White House has decided that the best way to deal with Vice President Dick Cheney's shooting accident is to joke about it."

Yeah. That's the best way. Especially when the guy suffered a heart attack as a result. 'Cause that's just HYSTERICAL!!

In fact, let me do the VP a favor and get the humor ball rolling.
Here's a joke:
Q. What was the last word Cheney heard before he shot his friend in the face?
A. Duck!!

Hey, I'm not saying it's a good joke. I'm just throwing it out there.

In other news, impeachmentbeard.com is now live. I am calling on all men (and unusually hirsuit women) across America. Please send me your beards!!!

2006-02-14T10:49:00.000-05:00

Ah, Valentine's Day. No other holiday inspires a man to go out and compose a joke like the following:

Q: Why do men die ten years before their wives?
A: Because they can.

2006-02-13T19:22:00.000-05:00

Well, today we have proof Cheney doesn't care who he's aiming at, just so long as he gets his shot off...

"We always stress to anybody that before you make any kind of a shot, it's incumbent upon the shooter to assess the situation and make sure it's a safe shot," said Mark Birkhauser, president-elect of the International Hunter Education Association. "Once you squeeze that trigger, you can't bring that shot back."

What a profoundly fitting allegory for the war in Iraq, don't you think?

Apparently, Cheney also violated Texas game law by failing to buy a hunting stamp. Though, technically, I don't think Texas law requires you to buy a hunting stamp in order to shoot your friend in the face. I think for that you just need a gun.

...and someone you formerly called "a friend."

2006-02-11T11:51:00.000-05:00

So after a month of going to the Y about 3-4 times per week, I got my first email progress report. It reads:

As you'll note, while I apparently lifted the weight of 9.2 African Elephants, I only burned the calorie equivalent of 1.9 Ice Cream Sundaes. Firstly, I think the Y should consider rounding off, but that's neither here nor there. The results are startling nevertheless. Are they suggesting that if a person eats a couple of Carvel Cookiepusses, that he or she will possess the caloric resources necessary to lift an entire herd of African Elephants? Also, after lifting 9.2 African Elephants, shouldn't my muscles be bigger?

What's the ice cream equivalent, do you think, to shovelling two feet of snow? Cause I'm planning on eating a lot of ice cream over the next couple days.

2006-02-10T11:27:00.000-05:00

I feel awful about this, but it wasn't my fault. I swear. Well, not entirely, anyway. Our friend, and hairstylist Jill^* gave Raegan and me haircuts in our kitchen in exchange for some computer help. I was already trepidatious, what with the two of them conspiring to give me a mohawk, but when Jill suggested she just give my beard a little cleaning up, I knew something was up.

"But that's my impeachment beard! It must be allowed to grow entirely unfettered!"
"Why?" They asked in unison.
"I don't know. Cause it's like, symbolic?"
"For what?"
"Um, for like, allowing the people to live peacefully in a free and Democratic society, pursuing their own personal happiness as best they see fit with no one screening their phone calls or starting wars based on a series of lies?"
"Can't I just clean it up a little?"
"Didn't you hear me?"
"How about just this part here? I mean, really. Who's even going to notice?"

Though I protested, not wishing to compromise the effectiveness of the impeachment beard, nor the integrity of the project as a whole, Jill and Raegan were relentless. They said I was beginning to look like a homeless person. They called me "SpongeSteve Squarehead." I resisted, accused Jill and Raegan of being covert Republican operatives, and began planning my getaway. But before I could act, Jill snipped the hair just below my ears.

And though I saw the entire effort of all I had worked for to defeat the Right Wing Enemy float down in tiny weightless strands onto the linoleum, when I finally looked up into the mirror, I had to admit it did look considerably better than before.
I'm even thinking of trimming the mustache so I'm not sucking on my hair all the time. Kind of gross, really.

But just so you know: if Bush fails to get impeached, you can blame it on Jill.

^* She works at the Newton Dellaria, and if you got hair issues, she's the best.

2006-02-06T10:09:00.000-05:00

Sunday, our next-door neighbor, Jeff and I — well, Jeff mostly — removed the brick wall that was sitting in our living room driving Raegan crazy. It had originally served as a backdrop for a wood-burning stove — you can see the three dark bricks where the exhaust pipe went into the wall in the upper right. Our plan is to eventually get a gas fireplace with a nice mantel in there. Removing the bricks turned out to be a considerably easier job than I thought it would be (especially considering Jeff did most of the work). But I did haul quite a large number of bricks onto his truck as Jeff pried them out of the wall with an electric chisel. I had imagined he was going to come over with a sledgehammer and that we would simply have at the thing until the house lay in ruins or we both succumbed to the dust and either passed out or died right then and there of asbestosis or lead poisoning or tetany. But it didn't happen that way.

Jeff (neighbor, woodworker, owner of KB Woodworks), is the consummate professional. He created a little plastic-sheeting chamber in our living room and we had masks on and a fan blowing the crap out the window and to tell you the truth it felt a bit like being on the set of Andromeda Strain. I was also a little disappointed about the no-sledgehammer situation. After all, I had my sledgehammer ready. That is, I would have had it ready, if we actually had a sledgehammer. I did have a rubber mallet ready, but I was pretty sure it wasn't an appropriate tool. Figured it would probably just bounce off the brick and probably go flying out of my hand and break a mirror. Nevertheless, it was ready.

It's hard to say how long we'll have to live with a giant square hole in our living room, but my guess is forever. I'll be amazed If this project ever reaches some level of completion where there's actually a gas fireplace in there and it's actually warming our house with some of that good ol' fashioned dinosaur juice without burning the entire place down in the process. Because before we can do the fireplace we pretty much have to do the floor. And then you gotta get your hearth in there. And then you gotta get your gas guy. And you gotta make sure everything's to code or else nobody will ever want to buy your house and you won't be able to collect on the insurance in the event you do at some point burn the place down.

I was hoping we'd discover some gold doubloons or some sort of nineteenth-century doo-dad in there, but sadly, all we uncovered was some old tiling and a defunct hornet's nest. Not much demand for those on ebay. Believe me, I looked. There's nothing but some crappy old book. Jimmy Carter? Who's that guy??

2006-02-02T00:43:00.000-05:00

I don't know if you've ever gone up to the top of the Empire State Building, but if you haven't, I wouldn't be in such a rush. Raegan and I did it last weekend, while in New York (naturally). It was a very strange experience. When we went, the lines weren't bad, but they have those ropes all laid out like it's Disneyland. And just when you think you've gotten to the head of the line, you're corraled into another holding pen where you realize you're at the end of a different line. And when you finally make it to the elevator, you're taken to another floor (not the observation-deck floor) but an interim floor, on which there is, you guessed it, another in a series of endless lines.

All the while, mind you, you're being yelled at (I think they call it 'barked at') by Empire State Salesmen. Several of them are insisting we experience the "New York Skyride," a "simulated aerial tour of NYC." "It's narrated by Kevin Bacon!" they shout, "You'll feel like you're actually flying around New York!" It did sound interesting, and I desperately wanted to see if they had edited out the parts where you fly around the twin towers, but in the end we chose to maintain our six degree separation (Kevin Bacon joke) as well as our forty-seven bucks.

Meanwhile, other salesmen were shouting: "Be sure to get an audio tour!!! Without it the trip to the top is worthless!!" or "Don't forget to ask for the combo pack!!" ($34 for both Observatory & Skyride). The audio tour (and this is something they brag about in the 'audio tour advertisement flier' they hand you) is narrated by "Tony the Cabbie." Somehow, that's supposed to help sell audio tours — the fact that it's given by a cabbie! The flier reads (presumably in Tony's voice): "'When you take my tour, I'm gonna show you things you won't see in boring guide books. You'll experience a side of New York that only a real native can tell you about.'"

If by 'things you won't see in boring guide books,' they meant a cramped observation deck on which you can hear nothing over the gale-force winds but the screams of young girls, where you can see nothing because your eyes have frozen shut, and where everyone's huddled together for survival like penguins for fear of freezing to death, each one of us praying the deck would just go ahead and collapse already so we could get it all over with, they were right on the money.

But they probably didn't. That's probably not what they were getting at at all.

It was, in fact, so windy up there on the observation deck that they blocked off half of it — for fear the tourists would be blown off before they could get to the gift shop. Here is a photo of Raegan's hair, before it was blown off entirely.

Tony the Cabbie, in the audio tour flier, boasts: "I'll make you laugh and even bring a tear to your eye." And I don't doubt that he would have. Certainly, while looking down upon the sheer majesticism that is Manhattan, a tear would have come to my eye had it not already frozen solid deep inside my tear duct before it could emerge, causing unimaginable pain.

Note: Raegan and I eventually gave in, our minds turned to mush, and sprung for the audio tour. And frankly, there is no way Tony the Cabbie could have been an actual New York cabbie, for the simple fact that his name was Tony and he showed no signs of having a Pakistani accent. Though to be honest, his Italian accent wasn't very convincing, either.

So in the end, we weren't able to see half the city, which was probably for the best, in terms of avoiding hypothermia. As it was, the half we did see was almost too much for the money. Here's a video. If it looks like we're having a good time, we're not. Our lips had only frozen that way.

2006-01-31T22:00:00.000-05:00

That's it. I've heard enough lies for one night. From this day forth, I will be growing an Impeachment Beard as a sign of wooly protest against this heinous administration. The fervor of my disgust shall be matched only by the scragliness of my facial hair.
I shall not shave, nor even trim the beard until Bush is impeached for crimes committed against the American people. The progess of said hair will be closely documented herein. I call on all of my American brethren to do the same.¹

Join me in making this a national movement!
Let your freak flags fly!

1. If you actually do decide to sport an Impeachment Beard, please send me your hairy jpgs for inclusion in my blog and on impeachmentbeard.com.

2006-01-31T21:30:00.000-05:00

I don't think Cheney's heart can handle any more standing ovations!

I like how they went right to Leiberman when Bush said, "Hamas must recognize Israel." You can just see the director shouting, "Camera 6! Cut to the Jew!!!"

I've never seen a State of the Union Address quite like this, with half the room giving a standing ovation and the other half sitting in silence. Talk about a nation divided. I think a big fight's gonna break out any minute now!!

2006-01-31T21:09:00.000-05:00

So...Cindy Sheehan was arrested just before the State of the Union Address, even though she was to be a guest at the proceedings. I guess that's what the Bush administration considers a "preemptive arrest."

2006-01-31T12:06:00.000-05:00

Several have commented with astonishment and disbelief on the fact that Raegan and I managed to drive into and out of Manhattan without incident. This is true. Indeed, at no time over the weekend was our car towed. Overnight, it remained safely parked in the Drake hotel's garage for the low low price of only fifty bucks a night. I think they even give the cars a nice chocolate on the pillow.

Neither did we get any parking tickets, despite the fact that we managed to find two separate, but equally questionable spaces, one at a broken meter and another at an unmetered location, spitting distance from the Schubert theatre.

More importantly, though, our car was not broken into, as it has been on previous trips into the City. One time, the only thing in my car were some Yiddish learning tapes. And they stole them. I only mention this in the hopes that if any of you, my loyal readers, should happen to see some seedy-looking guys walking around Manhattan, talking like, "Yo man, check out the goyishe punum on that shikse..." Maybe you could jump them and get my tapes back.

Or at least let me know how their Yiddish is coming along. I guess it shouldn't come as a total surprise as I think the going rate of exchange these days is 2 Yiddish learning tapes to 1 vial of Crack. But that's all in the past.

Much like the nun whose Parkinson's appears to have reversed its course, our own personal auto-related miracles of this past weekend have not yet been attributed to Pope John Paul II, but I would be willing to offer them up to the Vatican big-wigs as further proof of his saintliness. So long as my name is mentioned in there somewhere.

In the hopes of increasing traffic to my blog, here's yet another cute picture of Raegan.

2006-01-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

On a cheerier note, Raegan and I had a fabulous time in New York this last weekend. Moments after parking our car, we stumbled upon this strangeness: cops and secret-service clearing the street to allow some dignitaries to emerge unharmed from the spa in which they were presumably receiving facials. Here's a picture of a creepy-looking secret-service guy:
A big, chatty crowd was gathered, but nobody knew who to expect.

Given the amount of firepower present (black Broncos with roof-mounted machine guns) we all assumed it was somebody big. Bush or Cheney, maybe. Somebody mentioned a prime minister. But when they finally appeared, fully facialled, nobody recognized anyone. Which is kind of anti-climactic, I know, and maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it at all. But here's a video anyway. I wouldn't know the prime minister of Liberia if I had to pick him out of a lineup, but maybe you would. Have fun.
Download Quicktime if you can't view it.

Spamalot was high-larious. Here's a shot of Raegan settin' the mood before the show in Sardi's across the street.

Oh, and here's three I shot in the MOMA. They crack me up.

For the record, Raegan hates Warhol. But she loves soup. Especially Vegetarian Vegetable.

2006-01-26T10:00:00.000-05:00

AP reported today that in celebration of their victory in Palestine: "Hamas loyalists shot in the air and handed out candy."

Whether you're a Democrat or Republican, I'm sure you feel the same way I do. That at last, it's nice to finally see a new ruling Palestinian party that really cares about the kids.

Not to mention one that plans to make suicide bombs tax deductible. Just look for the line labeled 'Israel Destruction Deduction' on your tax return.

Bush expressed concern with the Palestinian election results, though he noted that democratic elections sometimes produce unwelcome results.

As I'm sure we're all well aware.

2006-01-24T11:16:00.000-05:00

Just wondering: If Bush has now labeled his domestic spying a “Terrorist Surveillance Program," isn't he, by definition, calling us all terrorists?

Note: to those offended by the aforementioned suggestion, here's a cute video of Zarinbaby Naomi bustin' the mic (literally) in our basement, to assuage your wrath:

Download Quicktime if you can't view it.

2006-01-18T13:31:00.000-05:00

The winds were so fierce yesterday they blew the car cover right off our camper! Today, they've died down, but an enormous hawk, no doubt confused by the gales, alighted on our fence. Here's a bad picture:

My dear friend (and best man) Becky, the second funniest woman in America (my wife is 1st), stayed with us this weekend. Here's a good picture (quick, click on the thumbnail before she makes me take it down):

She was up for a Hollywood writing job which didn't pan out. I mention this by way of trying to lighten her spirits, because I was up for an audition that didn't pan out. Turns out the auditions are being held in Los Angeles when I had assumed they were happening in New York.

As if that weren't bad enough, Raegan (excited about our trip) managed to score some tickets to Spamalot (in NY) off Craigslist (which, ironically, is where I found out about the audition) from a woman who thought she was buying tickets to see the show in Boston! So I guess there's at least a lot of irony and a kind of a nice symmetry of error to the whole thing.

The audition was to host an interview-type show about new books and authors. I figured what with my MFA in literature and my comedy background I could do a pretty good job. Alas, it was not meant to be. In any case, if anybody needs us this weekend, we'll be on Crespo's fold-out couch in Manhattan, most likely having our car broken into.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was all lined-up to be Andy Dick's drummer? That didn't work out either, though I did get to jump naked on his trampoline.

2006-01-12T18:23:00.000-05:00

Meet us at Johnny D's in Davis Square tonight at 10. I'll be sitting in, playing some tunes with Pedro's band, the bassist in the video from two days ago.

2006-01-12T14:38:00.000-05:00

I just found this terrific quote:

"To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public."
— Theodore Roosevelt
26th President of the United States

Versus, say, Bush who calls debate on Iraq "irresponsible" and just yesterday said criticism of Iraq gives "comfort to our adversaries."

Another good quote:
"War is peace.
Freedom is slavery.
Ignorance is strength."
— George Orwell, 1984

I only mention.

2006-01-11T22:10:00.000-05:00

Bush today said he isn't bothered by Congressional hearings into his domestic spying program. "That's good for democracy," he said, so long as the hearings don't "tell the enemy what we're doing."

I have the feeling Bush's biggest enemy at this point are the American people themselves.

2006-01-11T16:34:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had a complete physical. And when I say complete I mean complete. And as every neurotic Jewish comedy writer knows, nothing makes a neurotic Jewish comedy writer happier than a complete physical. I got the tetnus shot, the EKG, the rubber-gloved finger in the anus (.jpgs to follow), the whole deal. He gave me a clean bill of health, but I'm still suspicious.

Though I have no actual symptoms, other than constant grumpiness, I'm still convinced something is fundamentally, systemically wrong with me. Perhaps on a scale too large for medical science to detect.

2006-01-11T11:29:00.000-05:00

Here's a snippet of jam Raegan shot. She caught us at a particularly smoothjazzy moment, but what can you do? These guys are two of the best musicians you're likely to find this side of Mexico.

Name that tune and win a prize!!

Also: I'm very disappointed by the utter lack of snizzle.

To book the Remedial Jazz Band for your wedding, bar or barmitzvah, click here.

Download Quicktime if you can't view it.

2006-01-09T14:55:00.000-05:00

UPDATE: tonight's Midway Cafe gig has been cancelled, though we will be jamming in our swanky basement. So if any of you would like to enjoy some pizza & jazz, come on by.

Also, thus far there has been no snizzle.

2006-01-08T21:57:00.000-05:00

If any of you are in town, I'll be playing drums at the Midway Cafe in Jamaica Plain tomorrow night some time around 7:30 with my old friend (and bassist) Pedro Verdugo. It promises to be a funky, jazzy set. We haven't played together since high school. We were in a hardcore band nobody's ever heard of called Lucky the Wonderduck. I can't believe it's been twenty years since we played tunes like G.I. Joe. Crank it up. It still rocks.

This just in: the weatherman just said we're going to have some "Snizzle" tomorrow. No kidding. He said it's a real weather term meaning 'snow and drizzle.' Fo-shizzle.

2006-01-05T10:41:00.000-05:00

Late last night, Raegan and I celebrated our newfound fitness diligence with a trip to Bickfords.

Funny, I feel much more natural going to Bickfords at 1 am for chocolate chip pancakes and sweet potato fries than I do running on a treadmill while watching Brit Hume. Though something was strangely unsettling. At first we couldn't put our finger on it, but eventually we realized the restaurant's music system was playing two songs at once, each at equal volume. It was Roxanne and Walk of Life. We Don't Need Another Hero over Solid as a Rock. Sex & Candy over The Rhythm is Gonna Getcha! In short, it was downright nauseating.

Though Raegan was proud of her previously-unrecognized ability to quickly distinguish one song from the other, I called the waitress over and said, "I'm not sure how this is possible, but it seems you guys are playing two songs at the same time." Implying, naturally, that the overlapping songs were driving us crazy and that she should do whatever was in her power to end the madness so we could get back to enjoying our carbs.

To which she replied: "That's right. The cook has his own stereo going in the kitchen."

To which I wish I had replied: "Well, I just happened to have brought along my own boombox. Surely you won't mind if I crank up some Zeppelin. Cause, you know, I'd really like to get the Led out right about now."

Instead, we both simply shook our heads in astonishment as the waitress walked away. Because of course you never think of lines like that at the time.

2006-01-04T20:16:00.000-05:00

Tonight, Raegan and I went on back to the Y for a workout. I'll tell you: my body just plain ain't accustomed to having so much oxygen pumped through it. My muscles aren't used to all the blood. And my brain had trouble dealing with the feeling of running on the treadmill and watching TV at the same time and not going anywhere.

So what I did was I switched the TV over to Fox. Whenever I watch that channel I feel like I'm travelling backwards by about fifty or so years, so that helped balance everything out, made me feel like I was only running in place, that I wasn't getting anywhere.

2006-01-04T20:15:00.000-05:00

Again with the working out. Stepping off the machine after 40 minutes of treadmilling, I felt a little crazy, like I was going to fall over. I don't think it's so much a 'runner's high' as it is a 'non-runner's high'. Or perhaps I'm finally burning off the last remnants of THC that've been lingering in my fat cells since college. Who can say for sure?

Raegan has us lined up to do water aerobics at 8 am on a Saturday. I'm not sure what type of people enjoy taking a water aerobics class at 8 am on a Saturday, but I'm certain it's the type I don't care to associate with.

2006-01-03T19:32:00.000-05:00

Given our continued lack of impregnation (though for some reason two of our friends did dream we were pregnant), Raegan has decided to forgo her daily charting & temperature-taking in lieu of just having more sex. Who am I to complain?

However, she still takes stock in what the medical community has to say. And according to her research, optimum fertility and sperm production (optimum in number and quality) is apparently achieved by following this schedule: a day of intercourse followed by a day of masturbation and quiet introspection.

"Why not just have sex every day," you ask? "How could masturbation possibly help anybody?" To which I reply, "You're asking me? You should be asking my wife. She's the one who read the study."

Here are some theories:
1. Maybe the vagina gets overwhelmed with too much sperm?
2. Or maybe it's like a West Side Story kind of thing, where the second load of sperm gets involved in a big gang fight with the first load, and then they all break out into a big musical number and forget all about penetrating the egg.

On second thought, that's ridiculous. Everybody knows all the Broadway actor sperms are gay.

Wait a minute. Maybe that's why Raegan hasn't gotten pregnant yet. Maybe all my sperms are gay. Holy flagellum! We don't need a fertility clinic. We need a priest!

Maybe you have an idea about the masturbation? Any experts out there?

Anybody?

Becky?

2006-01-03T09:46:00.000-05:00

This morning we had our leaky ancient sewage pipe replaced and the stench of 100 year old poop was enough to give me an asthma attack! It was worse than the time in med school when I sat in on an autopsy!!

Or maybe it was the bill that did it.

2006-01-02T22:38:00.000-05:00

Tonight Raegan and I signed up with the shockingly-expensive local YMCA. We took ourselves a little swim and I had my first workout in, oh, twenty-five years. I'm not much of a workout person. Whenever I get on one of those Nautilus devices, the temptation to do a Woody Allen bit and entangle myself in the machine is practically overwhelming. I mean, it actually interferes with my workout. I want to add way too much weight to the thing so that the bar yanks itself out of my hands or sends me flying into the air. I can't take it seriously. Just hearing the word 'treadmill' makes me feel instantly like a hamster. A robot. It's a problem.

For instance, we were on — I don't know — it's some kind of stepping or low-impact walking type thing, where you hold onto the bars while you're jogging along, while the LED display mocks you by telling you just how few calories you're actually burning. If I'm not mistaken, I think they call it a "futility meter." You know the torture device I'm speaking of: it's the one they use in that commercial where at first you think it's a commercial for some kind of exercise program and it's got that crazy workout guy in it and then at some point he mentions how much he saved on his car insurance and at the end of the ad he shouts, "You can do it!!" while he's sprinting and waving his arms like a crazy person on this machine and somehow that's supposed to get you to choose Geico. I gotta admit, it does make me laugh each time. But the way I look at it is, if they're already trying to trick you in their commercials, it's a safe bet they're going to trick you when you try to collect on your insurance.

So now you know which machine I'm talking about. Eventually, I got it going to about warp speed. Then I realized I could make it go even faster by pushing and pulling harder with my arms, until it quickly got to a point where it was going too fast for my legs to keep up, and my feet got all confused, and that was about the time I thought if I wanted to avoid serious injury, I'd better start preparing for my landing. Tuck and roll.

Which wouldn't have been the first time. Back in Jr. High, we put on a performance of 'Lil Abner. I was to lead off the show by being flung onto a mattress by my presumably shrewish wife. First she would throw out the mattress, then she would throw me out on it.

The night of the show, our drama director told me they couldn't get a mattress so I would have to just throw myself onto the stage. After which I would pick myself up, brush myself off, and sing (solo) the opening bars:
It's a typical day, in Dogpatch U.S.A.
Where typical folks, do things in a typical way...

Regrettably, the Nautilus machine did not throw me — a result no doubt of sophisticated, state-of-the-art, anti-lawsuit technology — and I slowed to a safe stop at the very moment I felt sure I would be airborne.

But there's always tomorrow.

2005-12-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

So we've only been home an hour from our Xmas in Chicago and already there have been two minor catastrophes.

One: we've lost electricity in about half the house (including the circuit that runs the heater), which didn't make any sense, especially after we switched all the breakers (love that term, always makes me feel like a trucker when I say it: Breaker, breaker, you got your ears on?) and the lights still didn't work.

We somehow managed to get an electrician in a couple hours and he said our problem was we had water dripping in along the main electrical wire thing there and it was dripping right into our circuit breaker (Smokey's on your tail!) box onto our main breaker (That's a big 10-4, good buddy!). Needless to say, it was all corroded and shmutzed-up and they had to replace it. You know what I say? I say, who needed that $250? Not me!!

Second: our main sewage pipe is drippy, which sounds more disgusting that it actually is. It doesn't stink or anything, I mean. And it's a slow enough drip that a small nut container should suffice until the plumber gets here on Tuesday. Let's just hope the thing doesn't fall apart before then. It looks to be about a hundred years old.

Stay tuned for more news and an autobiographical Christmas Tale that's sure to bring a tear to your eye: The Christmas Jew!

2005-12-19T22:21:00.000-05:00

Last night I dreamt I had two penises. The second one just sort of grew there, right before my eyes, just to the right of my first, original penis. They were pretty much identical in girth and length. And both pretty much resembled my actual real life organ. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of having two penises, but I also wasn’t totally bummed about it, either.

I guess I figured there must be a reason for the sudden duplicity and that perhaps I would eventually find some use for it. On television, maybe. Oh, also, you ladies probably aren’t aware, but sometimes the tip of a man's urethra can get kind of stuck together and when you try to pee, your pee stream gets kind of split up. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s pretty annoying. It’s impossible to predict the direction any of your pee is going to take, so there’s generally a lot of cleanup required afterward. Unless you're at a ball game or in the woods or something where it doesn't much matter anyhow. Anyway, in the dream, I could pee out of both penises simultaneously, and for some reason each pee stream was being split into two very neat and uniform streams. So I had four identical pee streams coming out of my two penises. Very psychedelic.

Any experts out there feel like taking this dream on? I’m not sure what this dream could mean except that maybe I’m having an affair on Raegan and I just don’t know about it. Or maybe that I have a urinary tract infection. Or maybe it could just mean that I really had to pee.

2005-12-19T09:00:00.000-05:00

Attempting to use my blog for purposes of good, I ask that you all please sign this petition.

It's sponsored by the Simon Wiesenthal Center to the President of the United Nations General Assembly, protesting the words of Iran's President when he called the Holocaust a "myth" used by Europeans to create a Jewish state in the heart of the Islamic world and urged that "Israel be wiped off the face of the map."

See? I'm not a self-hating Jew at all. In fact, I'm a self-cleaning Jew: very low maintenance.

2005-12-16T14:31:00.000-05:00

After weeks of hearing what we both felt sure were squirrels having their way in our attic and walls, we called Pest Elimination, who came out and inspected our place.

Despite that almost every morning we hear a strange tick tick ticking just beside our bed that practically has its own personality, the pest eliminator found nothing. So he didn't eliminate any pests. He did however eliminate 75 dollars from my wallet.

So we're going back to our earlier theory that the house is haunted.

2005-12-16T11:18:00.000-05:00

Playing drums last night at the opening of Jimmy Tingle's benefit show went swimmingly. I got reunited with all the old Boston comics and even got a joke in during Seibel's hilarious set.

Say, did anyone happen to catch the slip-up on Channel 7 news the other night when they were lighting the tree at the State House (Boston) and the broadcaster said, "...and right next to the official State House Christmas Tree you can see the official Christmas Menorah..."

Freakin' hilarious. Do you still have to have a college degree, you think, to do the news?

All eight lights were lit, by the way. For whatever reason. Apparently they couldn't be bothered to consult even one Jew.

I gotta admit, I never quite understood the whole 'kill a tree for Jesus' concept. Wouldn't some nice Christmas flowers suffice? Or how's about a nice Kosher gift basket?

No further news on the baby-making front, though we've been giving it a real college try.

2005-12-14T14:03:00.000-05:00

If you happen to be in the Boston area, come out any night this Thurs
(tomorrow night) Through Sunday to Jimmy Tingle's Benefit Show:

Comedy for Globe Santa with the Ding Ho Alumni!!

With yours truly on drums!

Confirmed performers at present include Jim Morris, DJ Hazard, Mike McDonald, Mike Donovan, Brian Kiley, Martin Olson, Jimmy Smith, Tony V, Chance Langton, Bill Campbell, Mike Bent, Bob Lamont, Bob Lazarus, George MacDonald, Warren MacDonald, and Bob Seibel.

More info and tix here.
or read the Globe article here.

I apologize for the short notice but I just found out I'd be in the
show today, myself.

It's a wee bit pricey, but what the hell, it's a benefit! Spread that
XMas cheer! Plus there's a free buffet. So there you go.

Hope to see you there!

2005-12-13T10:05:00.000-05:00

Why is it that 95% of the email I get these days looks something like:

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆
リッチなお金持ちの女性会員と逆サポ交際しませんか？
すべてのセレブ達が顔画像を添えてメルアドも載せてお待ちです。
お金はあるが愛に恵まれない女性達を身体で癒してあげてください。
月1〜3回のデートで月30万の逆サポが最低限のラインなので、
女性によってはそれ以上の逆サポが期待できます。
本日、男性と直メ連絡可能な方をお金持ち女性の女性会員さまに募った所、
多数の申し込みをいただきました。
逆サポで貴方もお金持ちになってみませんか？
　　　http://lovlyqueen.cx/h/
■紹介料金設定なし！登録完全無料！
■連絡は直メでOK
■最低30万〜の逆サポ☆ト
■女性は40代前半まで
■好きなタイプの女性を顔画像で選んでください
http://lovlyqueen.cx/h/
☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Anybody got a translator? Maybe I need a lovlyqueen!

2005-12-11T12:49:00.000-05:00

The other day we got hit with something the weatherman called a "thundersnow." That is, thunder and lightning and snow.

Very apocalyptical. Wound up with about nine inches. For much of the storm we couldn't even see out the windows. Just a total whiteout. Funny, you forget about those after being in L.A. for 8 years.

Naturally, as soon as it was over, Raegan and I went sledding down at the pond.

2005-12-08T19:14:00.000-05:00

Fox today asked if having US Air Marshals on flights was helping or not. I gave the question a couple hours thought and formulated the following equation:

0 Federal Air Marshals = 0 dead Americans
1,000's of Federal Air Marshals = 1 dead American

where:
0 < 1

So you make the call.
I guess it all depends on whether you prefer your Americans alive or dead.

2005-12-07T16:31:00.000-05:00

There is nothing that makes me want to have sex with my wife more than to hear her shout those magic words, "Come quick, my cervical mucus is stretchy!"

--

PS: Everyone talks about Pearl Harbor Day, but where's Bar Harbor Day?? You know, to commemorate the day the Japanese attacked Bar Harbor, Maine! You never hear a word about it! Yet another Bush cover-up??

2005-12-06T11:18:00.000-05:00

Just saw the ad for Spike TV’s Video Game Awards. And not a moment too soon!!

Finally!!! It’s about time they gave people who sit in front of their tv’s pressing 4 buttons for hours on end the recognition they deserve for their invaluable* contribution to society and our overall economy!!

*and by that I mean ‘not valuable’

I'm sorry. That was wrong. I realize video games are very popular. I think I'm just bitter because I was never able to sell either my Skee-Ball Awards or my Whack-a-Mole Awards Show treatments.

2005-12-03T22:09:00.000-05:00

Liberated - Installment IV - The Climax

In all the Liberator literature, nowhere had a couple attempted an inverted-cunnilingual ramp maneuver. In each position illustrated, it’s head on top, head-giving down below.

Undaunted, Raegan turns the ramp around and insists I pleasure her from behind. Ordinarily, I would be more than happy to oblige, but the ramp is too tall. My wife’s knees are off the bed and all her weight is on the ramp in what looks to be a mightily uncomfortable position. See, we’re eager lovers, but short ones. And in my research, I neglected to realize the Liberator ramps come in two sizes.

“Are you okay like that?”
“Sure! Let’s go!”

I used the smaller wedge as a kid would a stack of phone books in order to raise myself up to the necessary height. Things seemed to be going along smoothly until again my wife stopped me with words that forebode disaster.
“Uh-oh.”
“What is it?”
“Hang on a second.”
“Is everything okay?”
And then, before I had time to duck, she let out an prolonged, moistened fart. Which, as you may have already guessed, didn’t lessen the sexiness of the situation. Though I certainly could have benefited from a set of earplugs and a clothespin.

Embarrassed, Raegan apologized for the interruption and explained it was due to the fact that the ramp had been pressing up on her stomach and it had apparently pressed everything out of her.

Everything but the will to procreate, that is. For ten minutes later, Raegan is lying back against the ramp, as one would a beach chair, legs spread, stretching her cervical fluid between her fingers to a distance of about 8 inches (20.32 cm). That’s right. My wife has discovered the ramp provides the perfect angle for checking the consistency of ones cervical fluid. And as every man knows, even the looming threat of interior decorating cannot match the feelings that stir in a man after watching his wife test her cervical fluid to determine its degree of fertility. Such stirring occurs primarily in his stomach.³

Meanwhile, she’s demanding we attempt page 12, shouting out:
“Alabama Slammer!”

I flip quickly through the guide, locate this fertility-friendly position, and mount my wife without a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly, things are looking up. When you get right down to it, in missionary, the Ramp essentially simulates the experience of having sex with someone whose ass is approximately 50% bigger than the woman you are currently fucking. Which is nothing to sneeze at. After all, how many catch-phrases have emerged in celebration of the oversized tucus: “More cushion for the pushin’,” “The bigger the berry, the sweeter the juice.” How many songs have been penned in honor of the much-backed woman? It could be even said that fat-bottomed girls may in fact be solely responsible for the uninterrupted rotation of the rocking world itself.

Beyond that, there is a lot to be said for having sex in this reclined position. Crank up the thermostat, pour some margaritas, and you’re back on the beach at Acapulco! Everything you need (lips, breasts, etc. ) is right there, that much closer. Which apparently, was not as much of a bonus for my wife:

“Not so close,” she said. “It’s hurting my eyes!”
“Quit being facetious. It’s not sexy.”
“I’m not being facetious. I’m being faserious. Back it up, mister!”

I quickly learned that, by pushing and pulling on the ramp, you can move your partner under you: an impossible feat to achieve on a mattress alone. It’s the lazy man’s ideal sex-toy. And I am nothing if not a lazy man. The wrist restraints are nice too, though the thrill of my wife’s vulnerability was quickly outweighed by the disappointment of not having her hands on my ass.

Conversely, in the woman-on-top (or “Strokes of Luck”) position, the Ramp makes you feel like you’re sporting a penis three inches (7.62 cm) bigger than the one you showed up with.

Had we been “blissfully bound on a journey of exquisite anguish and moist anticipation” as we had been led to believe we would be? Moist anticipation, perhaps. Anguish? Certainly with our initial attempt. Had it enabled us to “uncover a world of sex and sensation [we’d] only dared to dream of” or “lifted us into unlimited acts of love unlike anything else?” In a manner of speaking. For with Raegan lying back on the ramp — the smaller wedge under her lower half — I performed like an American Serviceman, marching steadfast and proud through Paris, liberating millions upon millions of captive sperm. Fighting my own personal Battle of the Bulge! Forging ahead into Fatherland!

The long and short of it is this: conception can be as erotic as anything else, simply by making it fun and different. Hell, if this last go-round didn’t work out, I may go and get my tongue pierced for the next attempt. Then again, maybe I’ll just spring for a clip-on.

-----
3. There is only one good position in which a husband may check the consistency of his wife’s cervical fluid and that is sitting on the couch with a ball game and a beer while his spouse reaches up into her baby-maker with whatever implement she deems appropriate for the job: cotton swab, gynecologist, etc.