Who's The Real Tool

In a perfect World, our television wouldn’t be ridden with such ocular poison as Celebrity Relapse or I’m Twelve and I’m Pregnant. Whenever I accidentally stumble across Jersey Shore, the old Collin Quinn observation (from his Weekend Update anchor days) comes to mind, where he claims that the Chevy I.R.O.C. is an acronym for Italian Retards Out Cruising. Altered for appropriation, you have Italian Retards On Cable. There are far too many programs that promote shallow, ditzy, downright cuntish behavior. Clueless, boring Men and Women running around in circles, whining about “issues” that my preteen niece would consider trivial.

Channel surf at any given time of the day, and you’ll see for yourself: television is practically devoid of smart, creative, complex, funny, entertaining entertainers. What do we have in its stead? “My Papa was a Beach Boy and I had one of my stomachs shrunk. Put me on the TV”…”My step-daddy was an Olympic running man and I have a swollen ass. Give me a show”….”I used to dry-hump an 83 year old ‘playboy’ and my regular husband has to come to terms with that. Put me on the tube.” Tie your tubes. Please. I realize you’ve already successfully rutted, but I’d still like to try to avoid “my mommy used to dry-hump a famous, skin-covered skeleton in an expensive robe and I’ve never seen daddy kiss her on the mouth. Where’s my show?”

I take solace in the fact that gems like The Simpsons are still cranking out quality offerings, made with detail and care, beautifully written from beginning to end. The problem is, for every golden half hour of programming, there are countless hours of tripe stinking up the airwaves. I am consistently surprised, and simultaneously disappointed, by the “talent” that manages to make a good living in comedy and the talent that doesn’t. I want to see more Blaine Capatch and Matt Champagne on my TV, and less (most) everything else. I want to see the brilliance of Patton Oswalt, Louis CK and Bill Blur pushing the envelope on late night television rather than the bland, half-assed musings of Jimmy Fallon and Craig Furgeson.

Comics Unleashed couldn’t come off more unnatural. The host tells three predictable, topical jokes in his monologue, then proceeds to pitch set-up for his guests to go into their act. If you have four talented and innovative comics on your hands, why not attempt something witty and original with that? If the right people do see the light of day on the box, they are typically under-utilized. CK as a never funny security guard on Parks & Recreation is one example.

Nobody is forcing funny people to hack it up, they do it for the pay off. It’s understandable. Not admirable, but understandable. I’m willing to do what I hate (i.e. every day job I’ve ever had or will ever have) in order to get to where I want to be in my career. If our industry was really all about who’s funniest and who deserves exposure the most; television, film, stand-up and the like would all be much more entertaining and layers richer. The Dane Cook’s, Ned Mencia’s and Jeff Fox(un)worthy’s of the World would be combing the highway for dead animals to sustain survival… in a perfect World.

I hope the landscape gets a long-overdue facelift sooner, rather than later. If not, my future children are in danger of being banal lemming-people. A product of their substandard environment. Hopefully, as Jason LaCour implored a couple of weeks ago, we will do something about it. Shun the shit out of mediocrity. When E! News tries to pull us into their wicked web of celebrity obsession and general nothingness, just don’t look. That, as The Simpsons have taught us, is how you make the monster go away. Just don’t look. Does TMZ have AIDS yet? The answer is: I do not care and neither should you.

Anything you take from an actor or performer should end when the credits roll. They don’t owe you access into their personal life and it’s sad and creepy that consumers want to know these ridiculous details and see these random photos that were intrusively taken. The paparazzi shouldn’t exist, but they flourish because the need for that kind of rat garbage has been created and long since maintained. Shame on the gunman, but also shame on the violence-starved crowd that is shouting for blood.

Every time you learn a new fact or skill, your brain develops a new wrinkle. Television has become an iron. It doesn’t have to be that way. We can replace the forced-upon-us fodder with things that enlighten us. The well-intentioned minority can take control from the aloof majority. They’re an easy push-over with minimal resistance know how. We can thicken the standard. Raise the bar to a level that actually requires a head tilt to see. We can have a damn near perfect World.

The artistically driven Utopia I’m shooting for will more than likely never materialize- but it’s a nice thought. A nice train of thought beats a harsh onslaught of reality, any day.

Idiot Rain

“Idiot Wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves, we are idiots babe, it’s a wonder we can even feed ourselves.”
—Bob Dylan

My characterization of mankind, generally speaking, is unkind. I believe that, far more often than not, society’s socioeconomic stratifications stem from a grotesque disparity of intelligence rather than isms, glass ceilings or divine intervention. To anyone who disagrees or takes umbrage I offer the following anecdotes: Recently, while driving though LA proper, I saw a billboard (presumably sanctioned and financed by the city) discouraging the public from firing guns to celebrate New Year’s. Not long ago the radio was running public service announcements advising the public to think twice about what they post online because, apparently, someone somewhere was shocked when the nude photos he/she posted on the World Wide Web wound up on the World Wide Web. Remember that famous Newsweek poll from which found that nearly 2/3 of Americans believed Iraq/Saddam Hussein had a hand in 9/11?

By thirty-three I was certain that I had seen it all. Indeed, pride cometh before a fall. Recently, I overheard two coworkers— both in their twenties, neither mentally challenged— discussing Noah’s Ark, the Old Testament narrative of a man who, at God’s behest, built a boat (450 feet long, 75 feet wide, and 45 feet high [Gen. 6:14-16]) capable of accommodating his family, some 50,000 species of animals and one million species of insects, then coaxed them all aboard in one week. Two of every animal, from Artic Polar Bears to Komodo Dragons, (hailing from distinctly different corners of the Earth) plus forty days worth of each creature’s unique dietary requirements: forty days worth of uncanned, unrefrigerated food, presumably including the live flora and fauna that some creatures require for survival… Two of every animal whose sexes had to be manually confirmed, many that would have had to have been sequestered to prevent them from preying on their neighbors, plus tapirs, hippos and other beasts that breathe air but spend the better part of their days in shallow water. Who walked these beasts to prevent muscular atrophy? Who filed their hooves and teeth down? Who shoveled the mountains of waste these creatures produced on a daily basis? According to the Bible, a crew of eight. This story really should be titled, “The shit some people will believe!” And after 40 days consecutive days in these conditions, not one of these creatures suffered illness or injury that prevented it from mating successfully? What about birds? Are we to believe that they remained flightless for forty days, or were they permitted one hour a day of exercise like prisoners in solitary confinement?

At the story’s end God self-imposes a ban on global flooding in perpetuity. He even casts a “bow in the clouds” to embody this promise (Gen. 9:16). This passage might pass muster with a child, but adults know that the atmospheric laws of refraction cause rainbows, not God— Is The Bible suggesting that those laws only came into being on that day? I could go on for days about how patently ludicrous this story is from head to toe, but by now I’ve made my point to any rational, right-minded reader. There are and will continue to be people who claim that the sciences, statistics & logistics that render this scenario hopelessly implausible were overwhelmed by God’s will, to which anyone possessing common sense will instinctively reply, “Then why wouldn’t he just use a more efficient method for mass murdering mankind in the first place?!”

Barack Obasketball

This week we got to bear witness to what I and many others consider an event long in the waiting. Some say historic. Others say life changing. Of course I am referring to the bitch slappin’ ass whoopin’ rim rockin’ beat down my University of Washington Huskies put on Marquette and the overrated University of New Mexico Lobos as they advanced to the Sweet 16. It was something to behold. Tonight they played West Virginia and although they did not win, they fought valiantly against a team that was clearly pushing the boundaries of performance enhancing drug use as well as an officiating staff who obviously had their second mortgages bet on the Mountaineers. At least that was my take on the game.

Secondarily, Health Care Reform was signed into law.

I figured this week’s piece should address one of these two monumental events. Since the only thing to say about UW’s rise and fall is, “Wow!” followed by, “Fuck you, refs!” I suppose I should write on the latter.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a real partisan guy. I think the Republicans are lying, self-serving assholes. I think the Democrats are lying, self-serving pussies. In my opinion, playing the political game is a lot like playing badminton. No matter what side you’re on, win or lose, you end up looking like a real schmuck.

I cannot think of a better way to demonstrate this fact than by listening to the arguments on both sides of this highly controversial issue.

Republican argument: “Health Care Reform is too costly! We don’t want to increase the deficit!”

Proof of Schmuck: You lying shit! All of a sudden, fiscal responsibility is a priority, huh? Where was that responsibility when Bush cut taxes? Where was that responsibility when we got into a $2 trillion dollar war with a bully in a sand box? Where was that responsibility when public option was on the table which, by the way, EVERY EXPERT ON THE PLANET has already said is the most cost effective way of providing health care? SCHHHHHMMMMUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!

Democrat argument: “We want to make sure every American has access to the best, most affordable health care and pre-existing conditions should not matter.”

Proof of Schmuck: You do? Ever heard of single payer? You have? Why didn’t you make it happen? Because of the existence of insurance companies? So what you are saying is that America cannot get the best, most affordable health care because we, as a country, have a pre-existing condition? SCHHHHHMMMMMUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!

Republican argument: “I don’t like the idea of government mandating my health care. It’s not constitutional. I have the right to choose!”

Proof of Schmuck: They want to take away a woman’s right to choose. SSSSSSCCCHHHHMUCK!

And on and on and on it goes. Back and forth, back and forth, swatting that metaphorical birdie over the net, both sides so focused on winning that they fail to realize that the game itself is queer.

Imagine how much would get done if the Republicans and the Democrats would stop being such schmucks. If they really wanted to provide the best health care for every person in this country without breaking the bank, the solution would be simple. Make a single payer system. Pay for it with an imposed “fat tax” on every hamburger sold from sea to shining sea. Think of it as expanding the “sin tax” they already nail to smokers and drinkers. Shit, heart disease is the number one cause of death in this country, followed by cancer and a whole list of shit fat people get. Maybe if a double cheeseburger went from 99 cents to 8 bucks, these fat bastards would think twice before ordering two. And for those that didn’t, their Mickey D’s tab would, at least, pay for the triple bypass.

I’m Jason LaCour and I endorse this message.

Better luck next year, Huskies. Damn you, West Virginia. Damn you straight to Hell.

Confidence

In the last few weeks, I’ve hit a sort of rut that can only be defined as a serious lack of self-confidence. I get incredibly frustrated over my lack of perfection when I’m on stage, but I keep forgetting that perfection is not the point. It’s about the process and the development of my stage persona. But I want the answer and I want the answer now! To which question? Obviously, how can I reach my creative zenith? I know this sounds like bullshit, but I really want to discover is that which makes me unique.

I can’t put that search on overkill: I find I take comedy way too seriously on those nights when it’s just not quite there. Not necessarily a bomb, but not 100%. I’m a control freak, but I have to remember that there are so many variables that it’s difficult enough just to balance them all, from the material to the audience. Seeking perfectionism not only means that I’m chronically dissatisfied, but it also means that I’m not aware of what’s going on around me. My act is no longer organic if I place too much weight on getting it just perfect. I have to remember to just relax, trust myself, and be there. Who knows: perhaps if I applied that mode of thinking to women, I’d get laid more often. Probably not, but a man can dream.

What I’m looking for is something to which there is no finite answer, at least not one that anyone else can just “give” me. I’ll have to find it myself with the confidence to do so. Again, this might all just be bullshit. All comics possess confidence, and even I show it each time I get up. Now I just have to get used to trusting myself at all times as though it were normal.

Ontario Reign

Now I am going to expose myself. Well not in the way perverts would like but I am going to put it out into the world that one of my many gigs is as a minor league mascot for the ECHL. The East Coast Hockey League has a “AA” Minor League Affiliate for the NHL’s Los Angeles Kings Hockey Club in Ontario, California.

This is my second season as “Blaze” the Dragon, one of the 2 mascots for The Ontario Reign who play at Citizens Business Bank Arena in the Inland Empire. It’s a nice 1 hour train ride from Union Station on The Metrolink Train. (Shout out to METRO, a sponsor for Kings at Staples Center)

I am also the In-Arena Host for the KINGS. Which means I am the guy who makes appearances on the jumbotron during the games. One of my mom’s friends asked me “what do I do at the games?” I said “I’m the guy up on the jumbotron.” She looked dumbfounded and said “on the jumbotron? How do you get up there?” After a quick smirk I said ”well I do have a repelling harness under my Blazer for all home games.”

Back to the mascots! Some people wonder what a dragon and a knight have to do with the Rain but I have to explain it’s R-E-I-G-N as in Reign over a kingdom. The Dark Knight and Blaze (me) , who where named by the fans, entertain the fans and always get into trouble. The guy who brings the Dark Knight character to life has told me how likes to talk trash to the other team’s players when he skates out during the opening with the Reign flag at center Ice. He has told me that he loves it when players say they are going kick his ass. I’ve been the dragon for almost 100 games and never mingled with the players cause I’m always trying to mess with the kids or dance to the music being played by our DJ TOMMY.

Last week The Reign took on The Utah Grizzlies team which is an affiliate for The New York Islanders and Calgary Flames. I have been waiting for my chance to mess with someone and I found the right guy and pushed the right buttons. During our pre-game staff meeting with our Game Entertainment Crew one of our Reign Ice Girls told me that she heard one of the players for Utah (#71) is dating a girl named Pumpkin who was on one of the seasons of Flava Of Love. The girl who Spit on another girl named NEW YORK! I like to think of myself as an opportunist so I had to say… Yeaaaaaaaah Boooooooyyyyyeeeeee! Don’t … Don’t … Don’t Believe the Hype! Bass in Your Face!

This weekend was on of our marathon weekends with 3 games in a row, Friday Saturday and Sunday. So I might lose up to 7.2 pounds of sweat in one weekend if I don’t drink beer. It’s like to doing BIKRAM Yoga inside that dragon suit.

Now I wanted to take advantage of this insider information and plan my attack strategically. It was time to create signs to upset and disrupt this #71 so bad he won’t be able to focus on the game.
Before the Friday game one of the Reign Ice girls made a “Where is Pumpkin?” sign and made me a Huge Flava Flav clock to hand around Blaze’s neck “Fight The Power”. Not knowing this would be such a sore spot I went onward.

The game started and during the 2nd period I wore the clock around my dragon neck and walked the main concourse. Most fans were not aware of the connection with Flava Flav and this game but the response was awesome. People saw me and would just yell “FLAVA FLAV!” and “YEAH BOYYYYYEEE” and pump their wrists in awkward directions at the sky or towards their crotch.
Then the hockey gods granted my wish and the officials called a high Sticking Penalty on #71 and he landed in the penalty box for 2:00. The dark Knight and Blaze quickly sprang into action. There are two fans who sit right next to the box who bring small sarcastic signs like “Welcome to the Crying Room”. Then I showed him my clock and made some silly poses. He noticed and simply shuck his head in dismay ad breathed heavy in and out of his nose. It was my first encounter with a player from the other team besides this guy Hunt who the dark Knight always messes with.
The next night it was pouring rain (not Reign) and I rode my skateboard four blocks from the train station to the arena and was drenched by my arrival which made me miss the pre-game meeting. One of the Red Jacket CBBA security guards said that #71 had stopped by and saw the Pumpkin sign in one of our Game Entertainment rooms. He asked if there was going to be any new signs for him tonight? In my world, that’s just asking for it.

I had to come up with a sign that would push this guy over the proverbial edge. I was praying for him to spend some time in the penalty box that night.
During this game there was to be a wedding on the ice during the first intermission after a wedding expo took place in the arena earlier. There was a photo booth from Red Cheese photo Booth Rentals left over from the expo on the main concourse to mess around with so the Dark Knight and Blaze had some new headshots taken!

After the silly wedding took place the second period started. In this period not only did it effect his team but when #71 got another penalty and landed right back in the box it was a time of reckoning for his smart ass comment about making another sign. The Dark Knight and Blaze both headed straight for the penalty box and I showed him the new sign.

It read, “#71 is dating a diva who kissed FLAVA FLAV!” He was not happy about the sign or the fact that I put it up on the wall for everyone in the building to see.
Then more exciting action during the second intermission took place. While I was ATV riding and dancing out on the ice #71 was in the visitor’s locker room breaking things. From the story I got from our trainer I learned he broke a lamp and some ceiling tiles because of the sign I made. Awesome!

Then the Red Jacket security guard told me he came out of the locker room and stormed down the hallway looking for me. This guy was angry. Who does he think he is Prince Fielder?
On any given Sunday most of the building staff are usually telling me the things I cannot do in the arena and they forget that I am a mascot and I am supposed to be silly and cause trouble. But this evening the staff was coming to my rescue and most of them in the area were genuinely concerned for my well-being as if this guy was really going to hurt me.
I say bring it on. If I can get into to this semi-pro athlete’s head that easy then let him come after me and I’ll collect the check if he tries to hurt me. Then the Utah Grizzlies could one day be the jay Flat’s Grizzlies!

I wasn’t rattled and went on with my business as usual. I finished the game and took a long needed shower. We won our 5th straight game in style and I felt like I was apart of the victory. Not only did I get the crowd all hyped up but I also distracted one of their aggressive players.

I was actually hoping our Coach Karl Taylor would come and thank me but that’s just a boyish dream.

Shortly after the game was over a few of the disappointed Utah players were walking down the hall including #71. I don’t know how he knew I was Blaze but he looked right at me from the hallway and said, “$25 is worth kicking your butt”. I had no idea there was a price on my head, but apparently he was fined by the team for breaking things in our locker room. Yeah Boyyyyeeee!
Then only a few minutes later I was walking out with my fellow Game Entertainment Crew Members. As we walked to the top of the ramp behind the arena we see #71 is at the top with a few of his fellow teammates.

As I skate towards him he decides to keep the altercation going. He then says, “You mad a sign about me and you ride a skateboard, what a loser”.

I wish I was brave enough to this this…”First off I make more money than you and secondly I also work for the NHL which is more than you’ll ever be able to say” But I was the better man and kept going without a response. I had my victory when the Reign won their 5th straight game! I hope we meet these guys in the playoffs! FLAAAAAAVA FLAAAAAV!!!!!

GO REIGN GO!