Ride

Being a stand-up comedian is a lot like dating a coke-head. Long nights full of fun and excitement, connected by soul crippling days of bitter disappointment and self pity. The emotional ups and downs of comedy make even the largest roller coaster look like “It’s a Small World.” One night they love you. The next night, you’re shit. One booker wants to work with you whenever possible. The next one bans you from his rooms. (Fuck you too, Monarch) One day you’re a comedy genius. The next day, you can’t write a single sentence. That’s the business. That’s the craft. I have learned not to get too excited or bummed about anything that happens. When it bombs, fuck it. When it kills, fuck it. The green rooms in comedy clubs should have a cardboard cutout of George Carlin drawing a straight line about four feet high which reads, “You must be this stable to get on this ride.”

Wow, I just went back and read that paragraph. It reads like some opening voice over in a Matt Damon movie. Like “Rounders” but for comedy…”Pounders.”

What am I trying to say here? What is my point? I have no fucking idea. It is Wednesday at 4:30 and I got a deadline. I really didn’t have much to say this week and I keep hearing and reading of other comics’ disappointment in the Last Comic Standing auditions.

Want to know how it went for me? I stood in line. I got rained on. I got hooked up. I got pulled out of line. I stood in another line. I waited in a room for three hours. I got to audition. I got to see the camera crew and Greg Giraldo laugh silently. I got one minute. I got cut-off. I got told I was too dark. I got told my setups were too long. I got told it was funny but since I already got two “no’s” it doesn’t matter. I got exit interviewed. I got rushed outside. I got to see an 80 year old woman get a pass. I got to go home. I got to do a show that night at Jon Lovitz. I got to do the same set. I got five applause breaks in ten minutes. “Remain seated please. permanecer sentados por favor .”

That’s the business in a nutshell. Anybody who gets into stand-up comedy for any reason other than to express exactly what is in their mind is wasting their time. I often hear comics say, “When I get famous…” When you get famous? Even famous comedians aren’t really that famous. When was the last time you saw Jerry Seinfeld or Chris Rock on the cover of US Weekly? If you’re in this game for fame, quit. If you’re in this game for money, quit. If you’re in this game for prestige, quit and then go kill yourself for being such an idiot. I wish more people would.
Quit, not kill themselves.

I used to own a business. My sales reps would go door to door. We sold all kinds of shit. That’s not important. What is important is that, believe it or not, door to door sales has a lot of turnover. We had this joke; say you were training a new guy named Ted but Ted didn’t come in one day because he didn’t sell anything the day before. “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Ted.” “Ted, who?” “That’s the business.” I, fucking, love that joke.

Had you told me ten years ago that in ten years, I’d be doing stand-up comedy and selling shit door to door was the ultimate training for it I would have told you that you were crazy…then I would have pitched you; and I would have sold you too. If you think I can write, you should see me sell. Door to door sales, like comedy, has too many swings for all but the most dedicated.

So what is the lesson? What is the point? I guess the point that I am trying to make is this: Fuck Last Comic Standing! I hate that fucking show! I can’t wait to go down to the live taping of the finale and fire bomb the whole fucking theater! Then they’ll be sorry they ever said “no” to me. Oh yeah, they’re gonna be sorry! AND IT’S GONNA BE FUNNY! SO VERY FUNNY! AND WE CAN ALL LAUGH AT HOW FUNNY IT IS! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Hang in there, dedicated comics. You never know when the next door is going to be gold…or, at least, a chick getting out of the shower.

Last Comic Standing

I’m not whining.

In fact, I’m applauding the deception. Nobody wants to watch hacky comics do bad sets, and no unproven comic deserves to win a career on a game show. That being said, let me add this:

Shame on you, Last Comic Standing. Shaaaaaaaaaaaame on you!

As became clear in the last season of Last Comic Standing, the producers of the show are not interested in foisting unknown, unproven amateurs upon their audience. What they want are talented veterans who will deliver strong material week in and week out. I have no qualms with that.

In season one, they gave us Dat Phan, a lovable newbie who had ten fantastic minutes of material. After those ten minutes were used up, as Rich Vos so eloquently put it, “he’s not funny.”

Hilarious!

The format of Last Comic Standing Season One had Jay Mohr shaking his head on a weekly basis as Dat Phan used his tiny set of perfectly crafted jokes to pick off much more talented and prolific comics.

“Never again,” I can hear those producers whispering. “Never again.”

In subsequent seasons, you saw guys with more than ten years of experience under their belts. I saw Todd Glass headlining shows at the Hollywood Improv three years before his stint on Last Comic Standing.

But here’s the problem, Last Comic Standing wants to be the American Idol of comedy. They want to pretend that if you’re funny enough, they will pluck you out of obscurity and make you a star.

Oh, they’ll pluck you, alright.

They plucked me all night long.

Attention comics, there was no open casting call for Last Comic Standing. Did you hear that? There was NO OPEN CALL for Last Comic Standing.

Viable candidates for the TV show “Last Comic Standing” had separate auditions set up for them by their agents and managers. The show will be cast from this stable of talent, and America will get a terrific television program because of it.

“But Eric, I was at the L.A. audition and I saw a hundred wannabes get auditioned.”

I know you did. And those auditioners will not be picked to be in the Last Comic Standing house. A few of the absolute worst auditions will be shown on television to illustrate how bad open mic comedy can be, but that’s the extent of it.

The problem is…

It rained like a bastard at the open audition. No tarps or tents or umbrellas were provided for comics in line. The camera crew made the people in line jump around like trained seals from 8:00 in the morning until 3:30 in the afternoon.

Then, at 3:30 PM … the crew announced that only 100 of the 300 hundred comics in line would get to audition.

Aspiring (yet unsigned) comics had traveled from all over the country to Los Angeles for a two minute audition.

Sorry.

Comics who had camped out since early Friday night… were told to beat it. They weren’t needed.

No kidding.

Let me ask you a question? If a show was really interested in discovering talent, do you think they’d hold only two auditions in the whole country? Do you think they’d limit themselves to 100 possibilities?

There are 300 million people in this country.

Of course producers weren’t interested in casting anyone from the casting call. They just wanted to create the illusion that they are to comedy what American Idol is to music.

My problem is… one of the guys who didn’t get to audition was a guy in a wheelchair who’d spent the night on the sidewalk and the day in the rain.

My problem is… I met two girls who had driven almost all the way from Phoenix to L.A. before their car broke down in Rancho Cucamonga (they took a cab they couldn’t afford the rest of the way).

My problem is that Last Comic Standing host Craig Robinson did an on-camera interview with a guy AT THE END OF THE LINE (about what the guy was going to say in his audition) at 3:28. This was exactly two minutes before they told this guy and the 199 people in front of him that it was time to go home.

My problem is that Last Comic Standing abused the trust of aspiring comedians. Say what you will about the quality of the singing on American Idol, at least the auditioners get to sing for somebody, and the ones who make it come from the casting calls.

That being said, I’m looking forward to watching season 7 of Last Comic Standing. It will be populated with really good professional comedians. And I hope that by this time next year, I have an agent or manager who can get me a real audition.

Law School

As a comedian, I face a lot of doubt. People hear I’m a comedian and immediately beg me to do my act for them. My family is pretty much convinced I’ve given up on every talent I’ve ever previously displayed in life, from academics to music. So whenever my family asks me about my comedy career, and I’m honest about how much of a struggle it is, they always suggest I go to law school. And this is probably due to my lack of age and experience, but when did law school become the academic answer to the perennial question, “What the hell am I doing with my life?”

If you’re considering going to law school, don’t do it, no matter how much your family pressures you. I used to work at a law firm, and it scammed its customers into purchasing Home Loan Modifications. The scam worked in a way that the firm would take people’s money, and not process any of their paperwork. Enter me, the schmuck looking to make a buck. I was hired under the guise of a high paying salary. Never mind the bleeding I had to stop.

The clients were dicked around so much that one client threatened to bring me, the newly hired customer service agent, to the Federal Trade Commission. I treated the incident positively: I got to learn what the Federal Trade Commission was, and also that the client was full of shit. The last time I was home, I told my family this whole story and all they had to say was, “Well, has this helped you consider going to law school?” Have you been listening to me? I just told you about the absolute worst professional experience of my life, and now, you want me to get a degree in it.”

Last Comic Standing

This weekend is the open auditions for Last Comic Standing. Rather than bore you with a tirade about how the show makes stand-up comedy impotent and diluted and how much it taints the art of stand-up comedy, I thought I’d give you the set I plan to audition with. Hey, fuck you. I don’t see you selling out my shows. You motherfuckers don’t even come out when the admission is free. By the way, email me to get on the guest list for Saturday night at the ten o’clock Jon Lovitz show. I’m gonna kill! As Barack Obama once told me, “A brother’s gotta get paid.” It’s two to three minutes and it has to be clean. For you comedy aficionados out there, notice how taking the curse words out of this set neuters the set entirely. Clean show my ass. Fuck you, Cosby! Anyway, without further adieu, ladies and gentlemen, Jason LaCour!

“So, predicting the end of the world has become cool again. I don’t get why these Doomsdayers waste their time with this crap. I mean, are these people so self-righteous that the last thing they want to hear before they die is, “good call?” “Apocalypse, bro. You frickin’ nailed it.” And they’re persistent too. “December 21, 2012! It all comes down December 21, 2012!” These are the same people who were running in the streets just 10 years ago yelling, “Y2K! Y2K!” How dumb do you have to be to believe 10 years is enough time passed for people to forget just how dumb you were 10 years ago? That takes a special kind of stupid.

Of course, this time it’s different because ancient civilizations predicted it. That’s what they say. Ancient civilizations? Really? You mean to tell me that these ancient civilizations were so wise that they knew, to the day, when the world was going to end 5000 years into the future but not one of these dudes had any idea their own civilization was about to go tits up? Maybe these Mayans were too focused on the big picture. Spending their time worrying about solar flares and gamma ray bursts; meanwhile nobody had the foresight to see that it’s probably not such a good idea to poop in the drinking water. What’s the hieroglyph for dysentery?

I don’t buy it.

I’m a proud American and like any proud American I say that if the world is going to end, it’s going to end cause we say so. No natural disasters, just good, old fashioned, global thermonuclear war; the way the good Lord intended.

Some people think that the apocalypse will start in the Middle East. Well, seeing that they’ve been at war somebody since forever that seems like a good place to focus our attention on. There are just too many differences between them and us. For instance, look at crime. Here in the Western World, people are killed in the streets for their shoes. There, people are killed in the streets with their shoes.

What is that shoe thing all about anyway? They threw their shoes at George Bush. They protest with their shoes in the air. You know, CNN is quick to point out that, in the Muslim religion, throwing your shoes at somebody is the highest form of disrespect you can show another human being. Okay. Where do you think suicide-bombing falls on that list? What, is that like fourth? First it is throwing your shoes at somebody. Then it’s a cartoon of Mohammad. Then a, “Your mama’s so Muslim” joke. Then suicide bombing? Maybe we’re going about this whole war on terror thing all wrong. We don’t need bullets, we need Birkenstocks. Just take a B-2 and drop a whole payload of loafers on the entire region. “Osama, I quit. The infidels are using Huuuucccssshh Puppies.”

Thank you and be sure to tip the wait staff! Let me know what you think. I think it plays better than it reads. Anybody who knows me knows that I’m not exactly network friendly. Even if they hate it, who gives a shit? After all, this is the same network that thinks Leno is better than Conan; thinks Dick Clark is still suitable for New Years; and green lit fuckin’ Joey. What do they know about comedy?

The Bringer

You know what I find to be obscenely lame? “Hot Tub Time Machine?” Good guess. While I’m sure that flick is atrocious (sure that, if I were to do myself the disservice of seeing it, I would shortly thereafter be referring to my eyes as “assholes”) -I’m talking about the widely loathed bringer show. It’s a heavily implemented concept at the open mic level of stand-up comedy. A pay-to-play, put-up or shut-up, put your money where our mouth is sort of deal.

Normally, it unfolds thusly: “hey, there. We’ve never met, nor have I seen your act, but we have been chatting outside of an open mic for the last ninety seconds or so…how would you like to do a big ol’ comedy show on a fancy stage? I’m sure you’d be a stellar addition to the lineup, based on how you’re still standing here, listening to me speak…Now, I do realize we’re at a show that doesn’t command a cover or a drink minimum, yet you don’t have a single supporter in sight; but hows about convincing ten friends to fork over twenty bucks a piece to see a show chuck full of schmucks that have essentially paid for their stage time?” Enticing, I know. If an aspiring comic is willing to put their own elusive funds on the line, you know what they have to say must be of dire importance.

“Back it up. What’s all this bosh tosh about a comic putting forth their own money to make a bringer show work? If said comic is contributing (in the neighborhood of) a couple of hundred dollars in support of the show, wouldn’t they, if anything, receive a modest wage for their diligence?” Good guess. The bringers I have been approached to do offer only one option if profit is desired: jack up the price of the overpriced ticket (i.e. resale), once you have covered your own ticket quota out of your own pocket. Before you know it, you’re asking family and friends to pay Magic Mountain admission to go to a glorified open mic.

Another way an optimistic, young go-getter might make money at a bringer is if the show is some sort of contest with a grand prize. The culmination of weeks of competition. Fill x amounts of seats and you’re automatically in the Finals. Sounds legit to me. Those thousand money dollars are as good as mine! The more people I bring, the more votes I get. That works out for everyone. What was once presented as a talent competition is now a popularity contest with favor given to the performer that can generate the most money for the people off stage. What great preparation for Last Comic Standing.

I understand the logistics behind such an operation. The booker provides the stage, the exposure, the larger-than-average crowd potential. The performer does their part to ensure a real crowd is on hand, each member of which is obligated beforehand to lubricate their sensibilities with alcohol and to get every last chuckle out of their ticket price. Good times had by all. Far be it for me to have shat on a system that seems to work on some level, but I offer this thought: if a comedian spends time and energy crafting and perfecting enjoyable material for the delight of a room full of strangers, free of charge- maybe, just maybe, they’ve done their part. Perhaps the people divvying up the door and charging six dollars for a Heineken can provide the asses in the seats. Just a thought.

If such logic were the norm, and the bringer show was replaced by an honest exhibit of comedic talent that people were willing to pay a few bucks to be a part of, our art form would only evolve. Not to say that comics that do bringers are subpar, obviously it varies. However, allowing anyone that promises to sell a few tickets a platform to perform, regardless of skill level, gives the Mediocrity Monster full opportunity to rear its ugly head. I think all a comedian should be obligated to bring to a show is clever material, wit, stage presence-that kind of thing. If their talent is worthy, people will pay and people will laugh and people will drink and the same pockets will continue to be blessed under more rational circumstances.

The whole concept contradicts a typical comic’s nature. Most stand-ups, despite being a class clown and having the ability to become popular through humor, are introverted. Anti-social. Cracking-wise from the outside, looking in. Sure, we have more friends than magicians (who doesn’t?) but we have less friends than musicians. I’m not talking about friends that live in the computer, either. I know plenty of people with 3,000 plus facebook buddies that have trouble unloading a dozen tickets to an “amazing” show. Most comics befriend, mostly, other comics. It’s a hard sale to convince a comedian to pay to go to a comedy show. It’s kind of like a whore wasting their filthy cash on porn. George Carlin was omnipotent with the microphone, and was also a self-described loner. Three of the absolute best comics I’ve seen on the circuit-Hugh Moore, Angelo Bowers and Chuck Bartell- don’t seem to be into bringers, yet I would gladly pay to see their set any day of the week. Let the talent speak for itself and have faith that people will support superb comedy. Abort the bringer for the good of the art form. It doesn’t cause anyone to thrive for creative greatness. It just dilutes the collective quality of any given show. If you’re good, you’re booked. Bring nothing but your A game. If you’re still working it out, that’s what open mics are for. Comedy, as a whole, puts it’s strongest foot forward and we all win.

With that being said, I only have five tickets left for the pizza parlor in Riverside next week. Hit me up promptly and I’ll hook you up with free cheesy bread.

Christopher Guest

Do you guys have heroes?

I do. I have lots of them. My heroes are the people who make me laugh with consistently smart, satisfying comedy. They deliver punch lines that I don’t see coming. On screen, they portray characters that I recognize from real life. They flat out inspire me.

Do you have any heroes like that?

If so, would your opinion of them change if you saw them appearing in the hackiest, shlockiest, and most mundane television shows on the air?

Would your opinion of Bruce Springsteen change if he started regularly appearing on The Wiggles show?

Would you lose a tad of respect for Conan if he used his (new found) free time to start doing the Home Shopping thing like Joan Rivers?

Would you want to blow your brains out if Chris Rock gave up his stand up career in order to host a gardening show on PBS?

Well, I am experiencing such a sadness these days, and I blame Christopher Guest!

Hey Christopher, it’s time to get the “band” back together and make another movie.

Here’s the deal. Christopher Guest is the driving force behind several of the funniest movies ever made. He is responsible for Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind, and For Your Consideration. In all four films, he used the same stable of brilliant improv actors and none of these actors has ever done better work.

Sadly, for some reason, Guest hasn’t made a movie in a few years and his actors are appearing all over, gulp, the ABC Family network. Aaaaacccckkk.

Now, listen, I have nothing against the ABC Family network. There is clearly a market for wholesome, sweet, unforgivably boring television, and ABC Family does what it can to fill that need. However, when I see some of the edgiest comic geniuses in show business settling for roles in these hokey, mindless shows, I just go berserk.

The trouble is, I don’t know where to place my anger. I can’t blame ABC Family for poaching good talent, and I have trouble blaming the talent for wanting a paycheck (even geniuses gotta eat).

So, I’m choosing to blame Christopher Guest.

Let’s go Christopher. It’s time to put pen to paper again and rescue your brethren from themselves. I’m not asking for much, just one new movie per year. Just enough to keep Larry Miller off channel 64.

Larry Miller belongs on the big screen, Mr. Guest. You know that. Or maybe he could be on HBO. I could live with that. But channel 64? That’s not right. Don’t let your friends be on channel 64. After all, he’s not just your friend. He’s also somebody’s hero.

Being Biracial

I know this sounds next to impossible, but I’m trying to rid my act of cliché trite material. That’s not to say lowbrow, as I honestly don’t think that’s the problem. It’s more the tired use of a joke than its FCC classification. No matter the topic, from traffic to sex, if the joke can be personalized somehow, that’s what makes it honest and true, and that’s what makes it funny. No matter what the bit is about, if it displays something truly about who you are, then the crowd will get behind you. Obviously it still has to be funny, but it won’t be misinterpreted as stupid either. I’m starting to feel that disconnection, that loss of self, in the material I would classify as racial jokes.

I’m Puerto Rican and Jewish, and that makes people think I’m going to joke about how I’m biracial and thus follow a very beaten path, but I don’t need to, and I don’t want to. Biracial jokes are formulaic in that they take two opposing stereotypes, one from each parent’s race, and place them together in perfect synergy, but that’s not why I don’t want to tell them. And it’s not because Juan Epstein from “WELCOME BACK KOTTER” was Puerto Rican and Jewish thirty years ago, either. No, the real reason I don’t need to tell biracial jokes is because I’m from Texas. That’s right: My mother is Puerto Rican, my father is Jewish, and they conceived, bore, and raised me in El Paso, Texas. And I can tell that no one reading this column really harbors any prejudices towards me, because if you did, your head would have exploded by now.

CEO of Toyota

It has begun. We were warned and now it is too late. The machines have taken over. Toyotas have transformed from reliable affordable automobiles to ungodly Hell spawn sent to Earth to uncontrollably accelerate you and your family to a fiery grave, cooking your flesh while pissing on your soul. Who would have thought the plot to a bad 80’s Emelio Estevez movie would be prophecy? I guess the Lord truly works in mysterious ways. May he have mercy on our souls…

I’m sorry did I get a little carried away there? Did that sound a bit alarmist? It must be the news rubbing off on me. For the past couple weeks, I’ve had the displeasure of watching news report after news report tell us about the Toyota menace. At first it was the Prius and faulty brake peddles. Then it became sticky accelerators. Yesterday, a woman reported that her Lexus unexpectedly and uncontrollably accelerated to over 100 mph on the freeway. According to her story, she called her husband on her Bluetooth as her car kept accelerating just to hear his voice because she feared it would be the last time. It was heart wrenching. I can only hope he told her, “Honey, I love you. Now put the car in neutral you stupid bitch.”

Look, I don’t want to sound like a dick here but, really, who gives a shit if Toyota has to recall some of its 2010 models because there is a chance the car might unexpectedly accelerate? I read that four people have been killed to date because of the sticky accelerators. Four people! Tragic? Yes. News worthy? Please. Four times as many people are killed by falling coconuts every year. It is true. Look it up. When you consider the millions of Toyotas that have been sold around the world, the odds of your Toyota getting the not-so-golden ticket are pretty damn slim. Don’t buy into the panic spread by sensationalistic news reports. They’re just looking for the ratings. If they really wanted to do an interesting story they would do a report on how many faulty Toyotas have bumper stickers which read, “God is my co-pilot.” Now there is a story I want to hear.

Now that I think about it, I want one of these 2010 Toyotas. I’m heading to my local dealership! Recall my ass! It is only a recall if you send it back. If you keep it, it’s an alibi. They may call it a sticky accelerator. I prefer to think of it as a lever of judgment. I would put 50,000 miles on it in two months just driving around town, looking for people in Ed Hardy T-shirts, crossing the street, waiting to be judged. It really would be the perfect crime. “Mr. LaCour, for the deaths of twenty-two young men attending the Daughtry concert on the night of February 27th we, the jury, find you not guilty. We do, however, recommend you remove the steer horns from the bumper of your Prius.”

Court is adjourned, bitches!

iPhone

Are you like me?

Do you think technology has come too far?

Do you think the so called “scientists” have gotten too big for their britches?

If so, skip ahead to the next paragraph. If not, please look in your pockets. More likely than not, you’ll find some evidence that I’m right (no, I’m not talking about your boner, I’m talking about your cell phone).

Sorry, AT&T and Verizon, but you’ve overreached. Nobody needs a TV on their phone.

Now, don’t mistake me for a fuddy duddy. I hate purists as much as the next guy. Back when cinephiles were screaming at Ted Turner for colorizing Gone with the Wind, I just smiled. I couldn’t understand the outrage (over a “supposed” violation of the director’s vision) when the stilted dialogue of the movie was much more off putting than anything Ted Turner could do to the graphics.

But I digress. I’m not here to bash the most dated, overrated, and unwatchable film in the history of the medium. I’m here to defend its defenders. I’m here to declare that format does indeed need to be protected.

I’m here to say that it’s wrong to watch television on a two inch screen! It’s simply not fair to the TV shows. Sure, watching Jay Leno is acceptable (because a two inch screen is perfect for making his chin look normal) but he’s the exception to the rule.

In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t even want to watch a normal chinned Leno on a two inch screen (just like I wouldn’t want to watch Letterman on a screen that fills in the gap between his teeth).

And if I can’t figure out what the hell’s going on on Lost while I’m watching it on a 32” screen, what chance am I going to have if I’m watching it on my cell phone?

And what about shows that go out of their way to give me majestic scenery? They may as well be filming Survivor on Gilligan’s Island if I’m watching it on my cell phone.

And what about those poor sons of bitches who try to watch The Wizard of Oz or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on a cell phone? The Munchkins and Oompa Loompas would practically disappear!

“Who’s Willy talking to? Is Dorothy nuts? How come my TV keeps ringing? Oh, right, hello? Hey Dave, thanks for calling. What was I doing? Nothing much, just watching The Wizard of Oz. Speaking of which, do you know why they’re following a yellow line in the dirt or why Dorothy brought her hamster, Toto, with her?”

I believe that if you can’t be troubled enough to find a screen that’s bigger than a bread box, you don’t deserve to watch television.

I remember the good old days before we had cell phones, back when technology was my answering machine. I remember the excitement of getting home at the end of the night and checking to see who called. And I remember the crippling depression that set in when I had no messages!

Now, thanks to technology, I’m getting that depression 15 times a day, every time I log on to my empty email account. Thanks, technology!

You know what else I hate? Reality dating shows. I mean, I get it that people need to put on an act in order make their lives interesting enough for TV, but when phoniness is delivered with all that fake sincerity, like when Brett Michaels or Ray J acts hurt when one of their skanks appears to be in it for something besides their love, I just find that soooo depressing. It sort of diminishes the whole idea of people genuinely caring about anything. I wish God would be merciful and make Ray J and Brett Michaels fall in love with each other.

So, in conclusion, cell phone televisions suck, I am not popular (on the phone or on the email), and Ray J and Brett Michaels need to tenderly smash each other with their respective rosy thorns.

Have a great week, Heavy Hitters. Have a super duper pooper scooper week!

Bang

Last week, another school shooting rocked our country. A University of Alabama professor went on a shooting rampage, killing three and wounding three more. Allegedly, professor Amy Bishop was upset that she was not going to receive tenure and decided to get pro-active, giving new meaning to term, Crimson Tide. Are you like me? Are you starting to see a pattern here? Let’s recap:

Omaha, Nebraska Dec ’07: 19 year old Robert Hawkins carries a SKS assault rifle into a crowded shopping mall, killing nine people and injuring five more. Red Lake Indian Reservation, MN March ‘05: Former student goes on rampage and kills 10. Hillsborough, NC Aug ‘06: Student kills father then shoots two other students. Bailey, CO 2006: Gunman kills 6 female students after lining them up against a blackboard and sexually assaults them. (they still use blackboards?) Salt Lake City, UT February ‘07: Student goes berserk, shoots and kills 5 other students. And let’s not forget April 16, 2007. Cho Seung-Hui storms around Virginia Tech, killing 32. It’s the deadliest rampage in U.S. history. Do the Asians always have to be number one?

These are just seven of the twenty-three shootings involving schools or teenagers since 9/11. Just three days ago, The Department of State issued a Worldwide Caution to update information on the continuing threat of terrorist actions and violence against U.S. citizens and interests throughout the world. U.S. citizens are reminded to maintain a high level of vigilance. Apparently that vigilance ends just on the edge of campus.

Are you following where I’m going here? Since September 11th, 2001 the only Americans who have been hurt by terrorists just happen to be in the terrorists’ backyard. Here in the good old United States of America? Nada, zip, nothing. Now I don’t know if it’s the wire tapping, water boarding or any other infringement on the Constitution but I’m not real worried about being taken out by Osama bin Laden here on the mainland. Sure, the Christmas Day underwear bombing attempt by Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab was disconcerting but do you know what scared me the most in the whole ordeal? The motherfucker was an engineering student!

These images the news keeps showing us of bearded terrorists swinging from the monkey bars don’t scare me. The grainy YouTube videos of dudes in sandals shooting AK-47s don’t scare me. What do scare me are all these little fucks in our schools, hopped up on anti-depressants and Starbucks feeling a little down because they’re not popular or rich or both, ordering a goddamn assault rifle on-line, walking into Albertson’s and plugging the patrons. And now we have to worry about the teachers too?

What ever happened to school spirit? The University of Alabama just won the BCS for Christ’s sake! It’s not like she had to teach at Washington State.

I think the government should start a new kind of terror alert. It can go to orange every time school lets out.

Feel me?

Ka Boom

Humor is an effective tool for dealing with the insanity of day to day life. Ask most any comic and their answer will, in a round-about smart-ass way, point to my point. Life is too weird not to laugh at. Prior to stepping on the stage, I would randomly hear the complement “you should be a comedian.” Kind words alone were not enough to persuade me to become a comic. I needed an extra push. A push that would happen during a trip to Alaska in the Summer of 2007. It was such a strange, eye-opening, horrifyingly beautiful experience that it just about spun my head around. By the time I returned to California, I was ready for anything Hollywood had to throw at me.

My system practically went into shock my first week in Anchorage. My smog-spoiled lungs didn’t know how to react to the oxygen-rich blue sky and I hacked up a few reminders of home before I adjusted. Once I did, I was better able to take in the surrounding beauty. The dying brown foot hills I was used to seeing were replaced with snow-capped mountains. I saw Bald Eagles and Blue jays instead of pigeons and telephone wire bound sneakers upon tilting my head upward. It was such a refreshing contrast.

I decided to become more familiarized with a bike ride around the park. Fuck Texas. Everything is bigger in Alaska. I rode around aimlessly for miles and miles without covering the same track twice. When I came to a secluded, woodsy area I heard a rustling. Being baked and paranoid and from California; I could only assume the source of the noise was a moose with a rifle lurking in the bushes. As I nervously peddled faster, the noise continued to follow and intensify. Turned out to be a couple of gnats copulating in my ear. Can’t say that I blame them. My ears are larger than average. It must have seemed like a penthouse to them.

My internal clock had to adjust to the constant presence of Sun light. There is something liberating about heading home from the bar at 3 am with your shades on. I think the desolation had an effect on the population. I’ve never seen so many discarded liquor bottles. Entertainment was scarce. I was taken aback after witnessing a “rat race” at one of the many town bingo parlors. They take a live rat, place it on a roulette-style wheel, spin it, and bet on which numbered hole the startled rodent will run into. It’s the only game that can be rigged with cheese. There was a lot of positive buzz going around about a certain Governor Palin. In retrospect, I can see something was off about this beautiful place.

While meeting the locals, I was duped by a shaved Yeti, cleverly disguised as a young Eskimo woman. Fellas, if you have a fluctuating nostril hair fetish, stop reading this right now and book yourself a flight. It’s similar to the flow of jellyfish tentacles. As time progressed, the situation became more bizarre. It went from “oh, you like to drink. That’s fine” to “oh, you saw the devil when you were five. Inter-es-ting.” I thought this chic was crazy when she told me that she had a dream where she shot my girlfriend in the head and woke up feeling relieved. I knew she was crazy when she told me she dreamed that I defended her honor from the animated Gods by using the power of the Sun to melt them. I did what any concerned, rational guy would do. I dropped her off at work one day, and by the time I was due to pick her up, I had driven half way to Canada. With Bob Dylan in my ears, and determination in my eyes, I drove 3,400 miles back to the familiar brand of chaos in Southern California.

A month or so before I fled, I got to see an inspired set from Bill Hicks’s childhood best friend and writing partner, Dwight Slade, at the local wallowing perch, Chilkoot Charlie’s. Nine bars rolled into one. Described as a “Disney World for drunks.” Watching Slade control the room with his free-flowing energy was just what I needed. I had seen other awesome stand-up performance before this, including the Master, George Carlin, but something about that particular set made something click inside of me.

The five day trip home gave me plenty of time to think. I had this nagging urge to do what felt right. Comedy. I didn’t hit the stage for another year, but hadn’t I had the Alaskan experience, I would probably still be a funny carpenter rather than a broke comedian.

Steve Coogan

Every now and again, it happens… and I find myself smiling for a week.

Good morning, Heavy Hitters! I’m in the rarest of moods. I’m HAPPY!!! Yay!

No, you’re not dreaming. The guy who hates everything is actually grinning ear to ear, because TV made him happy.

And I’m not just any happy, I’m surprised happy (and that’s the best kind). I’m the kind of happy that you never see coming — so it makes you extra happy because it feels like bonus happy.

“Okay, Mr. Happy, right now you’re making your readers a little UNhappy. How’s about you get to the point and tell us what you’re grinning about.”

In a minute, Buster. This is rare for me and I want to set the stage properly.

“Whatever.”

Okay, so before I tell you the name of the gem I stumbled onto, I want you to bear in mind that I never get to stumble onto anything. When you’re in the industry (even on the fringe), you’re always aware of what’s good before you ever get to experience it. I read about the movie Sideways long before I saw it. Trailers for Napoleon Dynamite had me licking my lips for months before I got to enjoy that masterpiece.

So, as I flipped through the onscreen guide for HBO the other night, I had zero expectation of finding something I’d barely heard of that would become my favorite comedy since Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

Enter Hamlet 2.

All I can I say is, “I was laughing for an hour and a half.” Hamlet 2 is an unpolished gem that I believe will appeal to anyone who loved Napoleon Dynamite. It is simultaneously as silly as Dumb and Dumber and as smart as Being John Malkovich.

The story is so ludicrous, that its execution had to be flawless. No need for a spoiler alert, as I’m only going to lay out the premise in the broadest of strokes.

Hamlet 2 is the story of a ridiculously principled/deluded high school theater director who writes, directs, and stars in a play in which Jesus Christ and Shakespeare’s Hamlet use a time machine to go back in time and save lives.

“Say what?”

I know. Normally, I’d have been ashamed to write that last sentence, but, like I said, it’s all in the execution. Steve Coogan as drama teacher Dana Marschz is one of the most likeable and entertaining characters I’ve ever seen on screen. Catherine Keener and Elizabeth Shue are beyond charming, and David Arquette does the most amazing job of doing nothing that I can’t believe he even took the role. I’m not kidding when I say that I can’t think of a braver, more self-sacrificing performance than David Arquette in Hamlet 2.

And if you liked Amy Poehler on Saturday Night Live, you’re going to like her here. She hasn’t shined like this since she was “rockin’ one leg” as a contestant on SNL’s Rock of Love parody.

Co-writers Pam Brady and Andrew Fleming (who also directed) are my new Jared and Jerusha Hess.

That’s it, Heavy Hitters. I’m cutting it short this week because I don’t want to dilute my message (not because I’m lazy or still suffering from Valentine’s Day chocolate overdose).

Saints Win

First off, I would like to say congratulations to the city of New Orleans, the Saints and the Saints’ fans for their first Super Bowl championship. Coming from Seattle and being a Seahawks fan, I know how it feels to wait and wait and wait for gridiron success. It must feel great…I wouldn’t know.

There, now that I got that out of the way, I have a question. To all these so-called die hard Saints fans I have had the great displeasure of having to listen to this week: Who were the Saints offensive starters in 2005? Better yet, who was the starting quarterback? Surely a die hard fan that goes around rocking a Drew Brees jersey and throwing up the middle finger yelling, “Fuck all you Saints haters!” has got to know the history of this historic team, right? Right? Well I think we all know that, in 2005, most of these Saints fans were Steelers fans. And every time I see one, I wish I had a blow gun. What really kills me is that the loudest ones seem to be the most fair weather. My local sports bar has plenty of them, leading the “who dat” chant and sporting the Reggie Bush jerseys. Last year it was Ocho Cinco.

Of course this is nothing new. Every year in every sport, the band wagon gets full of sheeple who don’t have the fortitude to pick a team and stand by them, even when they lose. I assume it is the same phenomenon that compels people to buy Ed Hardy, Starbucks and iphones. That heard mentality that makes me wish we were an actual heard and lions were there to pick off the weak ones.

I understand that any big game is more interesting if you pick a side and I have no problem with those that do. Shit, I was rooting for the Colts. But don’t call yourself a fan. Don’t say, “We won!” No, THEY won. YOU are just a fair weather dipshit.

And another thing I want to address is this notion that the reason the Saints had such a huge following this year was because of hurricane Katrina. For one thing, that was five years ago. And although I’m sure it added to the story, natural disasters are not a catalyst for national support in the sports world. I don’t remember seeing too many Sedale Threatt Laker jerseys after the Northridge quake in ’94.

The truth is that it was the perfect storm for band wagon jumpers. You had the sympathy factor for a city that is trying to rebuild after a hurricane. You had the fact that they had never won the big game before. You had them playing against a team who’s quarterback is generally regarded as the NFL equivalent of Ivan Drago. They have, arguably, the coolest colors in the league. And most important, you had a chant which gave white people permission to use ebonics. And let’s face it, white people LOVE to use ebonics. So there you go.

If it seems like I am bitter about this whole thing it is because I am. You see, like I said earlier, I am a Seahawks fan and 5 years ago it was our turn to be in the big game. We were playing the mighty Steelers in our first Super Bowl. We all know how the game turned out. A Super Bowl turned into a homecoming for Jerome Bettis in Detroit. I think I counted 5 Hawks jerseys at Ford Field that day. Even the refs had terrible towels and after decades of mediocrity, our big day was squashed by the power of the crowd favorite. So the Saints victory is bitter sweet; bitter towards the spineless, mindless, faithless lambs who jump on band wagons. Sweet for the patient, loyal, faithful fan who still rocks an Aaron Brooks jersey.

Go Seahawks!

NASA

As I near my 10 years living in the City of Angels I have had some minor television success. When I travel home to Connecticut (The Constitution State) I always run into friends from my past who are still doing what they were when I left New England Long ago.

Now I have had some people tell me they wish they could do what I am doing. Which is pursuing my dreams and not settling for a 9-5 career. Now stories of my adventures out in La La land have made it back home from time to time and they seem to get a little askew. The last time I went home I stopped into “The Ground Round” restaurant in Downtown Groton,Ct.

When I ordered my food a buddy of mine from behind the bar noticed me and said “holy shit Flats it’s good to see you man!” it took me a second to realize it was one of my old buddies from Pee-Wee football. The Groton-Mystic Youth Football League to be exact.

He leaned in and said” I think it’s so cool you ended up working for N.A.S.A.”

I was totally thrown off by his assumption but quickly realized that some how one of my adventures had been messed up.

He heard I was an astronaut. No lie. Straight up. He was at a party and heard “Jay Flats is a fucking astronaut”

Now the details can come clear.

A few years ago I played Neil Armstrong on an episode of ‘Expeditions to The Edge” on the NatGeo Channel. We re-created the 1966 Gemini 8 Space Mission which happened to be the 1st ever emergency re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere.

I was tempted to tell him the truth but what the hell…I played it off and asked how things were with him?

We had a great time and he introduced me to his co-workers. Should I have told him the truth? Who knows?

I’m just glad I didn’t do a HERPIES commercial! Who know what news might be spreading about me!

Conan

That’s nasty, baby.

“What’s nasty?”

That – what you’re watching on TV.

“How do you know what I’m watching on TV?”

I work for the cable company, baby. I know everything. I know what movies you watch on “On Demand.” I know what you watch when your wife goes to bed. I know…

“Wait a minute. I only clicked on this column because I was curious about Eric Somers’s thoughts on television. I didn’t want to make this about me.”

Simmer down, baby. You ARE learning what Eric Somers thinks about television. This week he’s thinking that advertisers know exactly what he’s watching — and that this fact is somehow preventing him from getting better shows.

“Why isn’t he telling me this himself?”

Oh, am I making you uncomfortable, baby? You don’t like having the hidden powers that be reveal themselves? I thought you’d appreciate a little unvarnished truth but, okay, I’ll step back behind the curtain and we can both pretend I’m not here. Take it away, Mr. Somers.

#^$)*@#^^@#^&@^^#&$

Hello, Heavy Hitters. Sorry I’m late. Who were you talking to?

“Um, we’re not sure. We think it was some lady from the cable company.”

Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll bet it was nothing. After all, my columns never begin with some clumsy device that attempts to illustrate a point. Let’s just move on.

So, did everyone enjoy the Superbowl? I know I WAS enjoying it, until I thought about all the money that those companies were paying for those commercials. You see, I use a lot of those products, so I know that somehow, I paid for those ads, and I was thinking that I probably would have rather just kept the money.

Then I thought, lighten up. The cost of those commercials is diffused by so many millions of consumers that they’re hardly adding anything to the cost of the products.

Then I thought, I like the Superbowl, and with the ad revenue it generates, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to get canceled.

And then I thought, oh no.

OH NO.

Um, I have a confession to make. I like what I like.

“How’s that a confession, Eric?”

It’s a confession because I’m always giving people a hard time for liking the things that they like that I don’t like.

“Huh?”

Most of my readers know the long list of sitcoms that I can’t stand, shows that I’ve privately and publicly wished would get canceled. Furthermore, they know the one sitcom that was recently canceled that I do like (Everybody Hates Chris).

My “oh no” comes from a sudden realization that meaningful, crafted entertainment is as vulnerable as it is rare, and that it can be eliminated at any time.

Worse than that, my realization has made me feel guilty!

“But Eric, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Didn’t I? What about my disinterest in The Tonight Show controversy? Didn’t my ambivalence cause some people pain?

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

I’m talking about… I wasn’t a Conan guy, but many of my friends were, and since Conan got roughly double the ratings that my favorite canceled sitcom got, there are probably twice as many viewers out there who are frustrated that he’s gone.

“But how is that your fault, Eric?”

It’s my fault because I didn’t begrudge NBC for going with Jay. In fact, considering Leno’s Tonight Show got better ratings than Conan’s, I didn’t see how any rational person could legitimately question NBC. I thought Conan should have acknowledged the numbers and gracefully accepted a midnight timeslot or quietly gone away. But this column isn’t about choosing one guy over the other guy. That’s always going to happen. This column is about the other guy.

My “oh no” comes from the realization that millions of people can like a particular show, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be taken away, even in this time when there are more channels than ever that need programming.

The fact is that TV shows compete for viewers and viewers are notoriously slow to discover shows. This is a dangerous combination – if you consider television shows to be works of art.

I’ll say that again, as this whole meandering column depends on it. Ratings are dangerous when they are given the power to eliminate art.

What if Vincent Van Gogh had had his paint brushes taken away from him after his first six paintings? After all, they didn’t sell. In fact, Van Gogh sold almost nothing during his entire lifetime. Does that mean he shouldn’t have been allowed to paint?

Heaven knows, most new TV shows are yanked from the air if they don’t produce ratings after six episodes.

Does that mean that the world today is quite probably depriving itself of its greatest television artists?

I’ll tell you one thing, it scares me that Aaron Sorkin, due to lack of ratings, could not keep Sports Night or Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip on the air. It seemed to me that those were pretty brilliant shows.

I’ll bet if Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings were a TV show, he would not have been allowed to continue to paint.

“But Eric, maybe PBS would have sponsored Van Gogh? They do a lot of television that wouldn’t make it commercially.”

Maybe, but did PBS pick up The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien? Did they pick up Everybody Hates Chris?

“Come on, Eric. It costs a lot of money to produce television shows. It’s not fair to compare them to Van Gogh’s paint brushes.”

But, in a way, aren’t television shows today what paint brushes were in 1880?

“This is nutty, Eric. Almost every show that’s ever been on the air has had some loyal viewers. Are you going to argue that every show is entitled to air forever? Isn’t it possible that some shows only had viewers because some people were too lazy to turn the channel, or because they watched it, not because they liked it, but because it was not as bad as the other shows that were on at the same time?”

What I’m saying…

Wait. Let me start again. What I’m saying…

You know what? I don’t know what I’m saying. I think, this week, I’m just acknowledging that there’s a danger in just going by the numbers. Sometimes the masses get it wrong. And I believe that sometimes the masses aren’t even given a chance to get it right. You can build the perfect mouse trap, but if nobody knows about it, if the guy who sells crappy mouse traps controls the means of distribution, if nobody cares enough to seek out the perfect mouse trap…

You know what?

Everybody watches the Superbowl, so the Superbowl won’t be getting canceled any time soon. I guess, for the time being, I’ll just be happy about that.

The Thinker

To all University of Alabama fans who visited Hollywood last month: Walking around Hollywood with a shirt that says, “Alabama” is the equivalent of walking around Alabama with a shirt that says, “Fag.” You’re not impressing anyone is my point.

The best part about the Ultimate Fighting Championship is not the fighting. It’s the interviews. “I’m a martial artist developing my craft.” Yeah, you’re an artist alright. You managed to turn that guy’s face into a regular Jackson Pollack. That’s an art exhibit I’d like to see. “I love how the artist comments on the duality of man with his contrast of blood and snot.” These guys are full of shit. Do you know how delusional you have to be to consider compound fractures, asphyxiation and blunt force trauma, art? That’s like calling Port au Prince an architectural Mecca. By definition, yes it is an art form. It is an expression of one’s self through a practiced skill set. But technically, so is painting your house in dog shit. I can’t believe how popular it has gotten. People spend a lot of time and money trying to learn how to defend themselves with mixed martial arts. I think it’s a waste. You don’t need to know all the moves of a mixed martial artist to keep people from fucking with you. You just need the cauliflower ear. If I see somebody who looks like they got broccoli growing out the sides of his head, the last thing I’m going to do is start some shit. Cause even if he’s a shitty mixed martial artist…he thinks he’s an artist! Nuff said. That motherfucker is crazy.

Technology has taken all of the romance out of combat. So I’ve decided to take a side on the gun debate. I think we should ban all guns. But, at the same time, we should legalize all swords. If nothing else, it will make gang violence a lot more entertaining. “Everybody outside quick! The Bloods and Crips are fighting!” Think about it. No more innocent bystanders. I’ve never read about a medieval kid accidentally getting his head lopped off. Even the most incompetent swordsman will, at least, catch the shoulder of his opponent. Even the NRA people would be happy. All they want to do is defend their homes. What’s a better deterrent than a guaranteed katana blade to all those who trespass? The world would be a better place if everybody put down their guns and picked up a sword and I can prove it. I think we can all agree that everybody loves Star Wars. We’ve all fantasized about living in a galaxy far far away. Do you know why? Because of the light sabers, of course. Take the light sabers out of Star Wars and you’re left with Buck Rogers and nobody wants to live in that world of lame.

If the conspiracy is true that Jesus Christ was in fact, married, it would make sense to cover it up. It’s kind of hard to worship a messiah if you know he was constantly getting nagged for hanging out with lepers and whores.

I think the Miss Universe competition is fixed. The winner always comes from Earth.

To those people who don’t want to let homosexuals get married: Do you know who you are? You’re the guy who thought black people should have a different drinking fountain. You’re the guy who wanted to throw all the Japanese in concentration camps. You’re the guy that thought women shouldn’t be able to vote. Every generation has you and everybody looks back into history and thinks you’re retarded. You’re the guy who, many years ago, said, “Can you believe how much they’re charging for niggers these days?” You’re that fucking guy.

Jerrry Seinfeld

Ahem.

I’m sorry, let me begin again.

AHEM.

There. Do I have your attention now?

Because I’m here to talk about what, sitcoms? No. I’m here to talk about one specific non-sitcom. I’m here to talk about The Marriage Ref, a new reality show starring comedian Tom Papa and executive produced by Jerry Seinfeld.

Look, I like Tom Papa as much as the next guy. In fact, I’m a fan, and I’m happy as hell for the guy that he’s getting a network television show. But what in tarnation is Jerry Seinfeld doing producing it?

“It’s not a reality show,” claim Papa and Seinfeld, “it’s a comedy panel show.”

Okay, it’s a comedy panel show. Fantastic. Even though I don’t know what a comedy panel show is, I’m betting that if Jerry Seinfeld is involved, it’ll be the best comedy panel show of all time.

On the other hand, here is what I know for sure. The New Adventures of Old Christine, Parks and Recreation, and just about every other sitcom on the air make me want to barf.

Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, Jerry’s talents might be better utilized if he was exercising them in the creation of a watchable sitcom?

Come on, Jerry, I need another Seinfeld. Gimme another Seinfeld!

The truth is… he might be on his way already.

Let’s be honest here, doesn’t The Marriage Ref have the feel of an unused Kramer storyline? Have you seen the visual of Tom Papa in a referee’s shirt standing between a husband and a wife? That’s not normal. That’s Kramer.

Level with me, Jerry. Is The Marriage Ref really just another “coffee table” coffee table book? Or maybe it’s a pizza place where people make their own pies (“you canna notta put a cucumbers on a pizza. That’sa notta pizza.”)

I really don’t understand any of this.

When Seinfeld co-creator Larry David wanted to get back into television, he didn’t produce a series of “dogs in the wild” documentaries for Nat Geo, he created a brilliant new sitcom.

Hey Larry, do you still have Jerry’s phone number (yeah, I know, Larry is going to be a guest panelist on The Marriage Ref. I was trying to make a point).

What’s next?

Mark Burnett quitting Survivor to produce soap operas for Telemundo?

Brett Favre retiring from football so he can go up against Leno and Letterman (it didn’t work for Magic Johnson)?

Elvis coming back from the dead to sing lead voice over in the next Alvin and The Chipmunks movie?

This is crazy!!!

I get that Jerry likes to change venues. He did stand-up, he did a sitcom, he did an animated movie. But if you’re going to bring your sensibilities back to TV, produce another sitcom.

For the love of God, Jerry, produce another sitcom.

You and Larry David crafted the greatest, most intricate sitcom in the history of television. Every episode gave us four wildly entertaining stories that intersected with the precision of a surgeon’s knife. Now you’re going to stand behind the scenes while some comedian makes fun of married people? How challenging. You’re probably going to have to put in 15 minute days.

Good news, everybody. The world is following Jerry’s lead.

Conan O’Brien’s got a new gig as the warm-up guy at Funnies in Toledo. Bill Cosby is coming back to TV as the producer of that burning log show that appears on your TV every Christmas morning. Craig Kilborn will star as the log.

I’ve had it, people.

Having Jerry Seinfeld produce a reality show is as big a waste of talent as having Dave Chappelle appear exclusively at the Pig ‘n’ Whistle open mic. Stop teasing us, universe. Stop teasing us this very instant and make our greatest artists produce great art!

That being said, SIGH, I am very much looking forward to the premiere of The Marriage Ref. I just wish it was following the premiere of Jerry’s new sitcom.

Chris Farley

As a kid growing up on all things comedy, I loved Chris Farley. I loved his explosive personality and the way that he was able to make most people laugh, most of the time. Even the most jaded prick I knew couldn’t deny the man’s likability factor. It was practically glistering. His brand of humor didn’t require a lot of thought, but I couldn’t keep a smile off of my face while watching him exert every ounce of his larger than life self to maniacally get a rise out of everyone around him. I thought his chemically-aided departure was a tragic way to go out early. It was a horrible, violent eruption that ended a beautiful person. The news was upsetting to Farley’s fans, such as myself. Devastating for those fortunate enough to have had a more-than-casual relationship with Chris. I think, by now, those inflicted to any degree have come to terms with the situation. There is peace and closure. So why the fuck does DirecTV want me to entertain the notion that Chris Farley is still above ground, dancing around in an undersized coat?

I do realize that I live in the United States of Consumerism. I pledge allegiance, to the brand…and so on; but do mega-greedy, obscenely wealthy, attention whore companies really have to grave rob celebrities in order to push their unholy product on the living? I cringed upon notice of this form of sub-advertising emerging from the Hollywood sewer a few years ago when the ghost of John Wayne was indirectly telling me to drink Coors Light. I think a more “living” Duke might have opted for room temperature horse piss. The Wayne estate was okay with renting out John’s retired good name. Oddly enough, they were also okay with the initial payoff and they were just fine with the years of royalty checks that ensued. That’s indicative of the reasoning behind such a morbid concept as a deceased spokesperson. Every time something like this occurs, the “we just want to honor their memory” facade is defensively offered, instantaneously. No one can be honest enough to admit that money is a factor, let alone admit that money is thee factor.

The insanity escalated to new heights in 2008. The well-intentioned folks at DirecTV took things a step further, while pushing society as a whole multiple steps back, when they answered the age old question: What could possibly be creepier than using a dead man to promote for the behalf of other peoples profit? Why, a dead child of course. Heather O’Rourke, the cute, sweet, and tragically perished twelve year old girl of Poltergeist fame was apparently summonsed from the spiritual realm to pitch Craig T. Nelson dialogue set-up. I consider myself a fairly decent human being, which is probably why I didn’t feel compelled to pick up the phone and promptly tell cable to get fucked. I was too busy trying not to lose my Cheerios. It just goes to show how low they will go, you know?

What’s next? Plastered caskets, covered in McDonalds and Energizer Battery stickers? “Is that a NASCAR vehicle? Never mind, it’s just John Goodman’s coffin.” As long as the “nothing is sacred, not even life and death” mentality is running rampid, why not go for the gusto? Authentic celebrity death rattle ring tones have serious market potential. It’s all done in admiration, right? After all, celebrities aren’t people, right? Heavens no. They’re machines, whose creation was funded with advertising dollars, built to persuade me to guzzle domestic beer while parked in front of thousands of channels worth of satellite television. Beer and TV? I get it. Use dead people to encourage me not to live. Well played, marketing scum.

This is, by no means, a new trend. The Farley spot serves as one of many sobering, disturbing glimpses into the black hole that is the corporate soul in this country. Seeing Chris’s memory take a televised sleaze bath was especially disheartening. Chris Farley never tried to sell us anything but himself. His passion was making people laugh, and he wasn’t in it for the money. Not even when he made stinkers like Beverly Hills Ninja. He made that movie for kids to enjoy and cried in private at the premiere. He cared deeply about his image and about what he lent his name to. He could have hawked some shit to us in his hay day, but he chose to take the high road. In more ways than one. Putting Farley in such a bizarre position is weird and foreign to his persona and is in poor taste. It’s as if to imply that if blessed with the breath to say one more thing to his family, friends and fans, Chris would take the opportunity to tell us about a free Showtime package trial. Let the man rest in peace. What’s that? Spade needs to get paid? Well, he is only moderately wealthy. Poor fella. What the hell. Let’s take a trip to make believe land. Chris Farley is alive and dancing. David Spade is a genuine friend and a respected, relevant comedian. Yay for delusion. Yay forever!

Meanwhile, back on Planet Earth, we are left with a trashy advert, an unendorsed endorsement, and a cash-eating weasel that deserves to be sentenced by comedy court to report to real prison. That way he can be purchased for a carton of Kools, then get mouth raped immediately after being ass raped. There is a certain symmetric justice to that plan. David couldn’t muster up the courage to attend best friend Chris’s funeral because it was “too much to deal with” emotionally. Yet, when it comes to pretending that Chris is still alive for financial gain, it’s time to suck up your emotions and honor the memory of your friend? Maybe if someone had cut Spade a check, he would have showed for funeral services. The dead have no place in commercial purgatory. How would David Spade like it if his career were portrayed? It has been dead exactly as long as Chris Farley has. Leave those that have left us, alone and leave the product peddling for the celebrities that are only dead on the inside.

Jackass Time

I can’t believe it’s already Friday. Where does all the time go? I haven’t been able to get up in almost a week and I’m missing the stage. I spend most of my day in front of my computer working for the man and my nights, well, that’s when I get an opportunity to get up in front of people and act like a total jackass — and I’m missing it.

You see, I’ve had to put away my comic card this week because I’ve been busy on another endeavor. It’s a lawsuit against my former employer and it’s not looking good. Basically, I’m suing the CEO personally instead of the company, on grounds that the company is not legitimate. The Judge kindly reminded me that she’ll “…be the judge of whether the company is legitimate or not.” Ouch! I also kept referring to her as “ma’am” instead of “Your Honor.” I’m not scoring points with the Judge at the moment.

I spent the past week preparing for this case, which has left absolutely no time to write jokes. Well, I’ve written a few jokes that I liked, but I haven’t had my jackass time and it’s killing me.

I like calling open mics my “jackass time,” because it gives me a chance to make noise and create stupid analogies all while wearing a silly face and dancing a little dance. Just kidding, I don’t actually do that sort of stuff in my act, but I’d like to. I probably should. Shit, it’s my jackass time.

All kidding aside, I’ve spent way too much time getting this stupid case together – which, at the end of the day, was a complete waste of time. The good news is it’s all over. Starting tonight, I will reclaim what’s rightfully mine, and that is any stage with a microphone and an amplifier. If I ever go homeless, I will have to make sure my shopping cart is equipped with plenty of notepads, pens, a microphone, amplifier and a diehard battery to power it all.

I think one of the reasons why I’m so attracted to standup is that it helps me keep my head straight. I really hate my day job. It robs me of all my time and energy and my will to live. You see, I log reality TV footage all day. The life of a reality star is simply too boring and is completely influenced by writers, editors, producers and network heads. Sometimes, I watch the footage and ask myself, who has it worse?

Michael Vick

The neighborhood I now live in is, by far, the nicest neighborhood I’ve lived in since I moved to Los Angeles. It is quiet. Not too many hobos pissing on the buildings. Just a few Armenians. I should love it but I don’t. They say that you don’t know what you don’t know so I shouldn’t beat myself up over the fact that I did not foresee just how annoying living among Hollywood hipsters would be. Relax, I am not going to write a column about hipster clothing. No point in beating a dead horse on how I feel about Ed Hardy T-shirts. I want to write about a growing trend I have been seeing in the hipster community. A trend which, if allowed to go on unchecked, could lead to a major problem. What is this growing trend, you ask? What could Hollywood hipsters possibly be doing which is so dangerous? Well I’ll tell you. Pet Adoption.

That’s right, I said it and I’ll explain it too. But before I do, I should preface my explanation by saying that I own two dogs which have been adopted. I like dogs. In fact, I like a lot of animals. I can’t call myself an animal lover because calling yourself an animal lover implies that you love ALL of them. I look at animals much in the same way I look at Rush Limbaugh fans. For every friendly, agreeable one you meet, there are a hundred others that, if provoked, would eat your testicles. My dogs are friendly. My dogs are small. My dogs were free. The way adopted pets should be. I wouldn’t pay for a pet if you paid me. If the hipsters in my neighborhood went my route I wouldn’t say anything. It’s not so much THAT they are adopting, it’s WHAT they are adopting.

Ever since Michael Vick was cast into the media spotlight for running a dog fighting ring, there has been a pouring of public outcry for the dogs in these rings. Organizations have been set up to take these pit bulls out of that lifestyle and send them to the home of a family looking to add a little love and a lot of adrenaline to their drab little lives. It’s one of those ideas that look fantastic on paper; like communism. Unfortunately, also like communism, it’s not very practical for a twenty-five year old living in a one bedroom with a guitar and a dream to be on American Idol.

These are trained attack dogs. They’ve tasted blood. They smell fear. They’ve killed. And they’re being walked by a 110 lbs lady boy on an iphone. Do you know how helpless it feels to be in the kill zone of Cujo-on-steroids and the only thing holding him back is an effeminate neo-emo douche bag trying to display dominance? “Casper, sit!” Fuck you, McKenna! That’s too much dog for you! Just because you want to feel good about yourself by thinking you can rehabilitate these dogs, doesn’t mean I should have to feel like Andy Dufrain walking through Shawshank. These dogs need wide open spaces where they can run and play and kill things that don’t have social security numbers. They don’t belong in Hollywood.

And don’t give me the old, “they’re misunderstood! They love people,” spiel. These dogs have seen some shit. These dogs are disturbed. They’re like the Vietnam vets of the animal kingdom. Do you know what went on in that dog fighting ring? The things they saw? They’ve seen bitches getting strapped in rape stands as the males took turns pounding that ass and that was just Michael Vick’s parties. Imagine what he did to the dogs! POW! (I couldn’t help it)

Now don’t get me wrong here. I don’t think they should be put down either. In fact, I think the whole Humane Society is bullshit. There is nothing humane about it. Most shelters hold the dogs for about 5 days before they’ll euthanize them. That sucks. Basically, it means that young dogs and cute dogs will get a reprieve through adoption but the older, less attractive ones get the needle. Imagine if Hollywood worked like that. Imagine what casting calls would be like with that standard. 5 days, that’s all you get. If you’re not cute enough to get a role, “sorry, there are just too many actors in this town and we’re overcrowded.” I’ll bet you would want to be let out to fend for yourself. Maybe take an Improv class. And that’s exactly what I think we should do with these dogs. Let ‘em go. Animal Planet is always pulling at our heart strings telling us about the endangered North American wolf population. Well, let’s see what nature can do. Domestic dogs have the same DNA make up as wolves. Send these dogs into the wild, see what happens. Is that cruel? Fuck no it’s not cruel. You were going to kill them anyway and you know what? Some will make it. I love the idea of seeing what a couple generations of wolf / chihuahua fucking would breed. Sing that fucking song, Sarah McLachlan.

Ladies Duck

Misogyny in comedy. It exists. Some may even argue that it’s prevalent. Sure, it doesn’t parallel gangsta rap, or even old school Country-Western music, but sit through any random open mic and it will eventually surface. Whether it be in the form of an ill-conceived rape joke, a strangled hooker joke, a joke that implies that women are ignorant, or just a passive-aggressive exhibit of blind anger toward the opposite sex- I’ve seen it all in my many months of stand-up. Usually, the comic in question is as comfortable around a vagina as John Wayne Gacy. There is a fine line between taking a “taboo” topic and exposing the absurdity in it and using the stage as a platform to maliciously attack a group of people that you happened to be frustrated with. The latter sounds a little Klan-ish.

Personally, I love women. Almost everything about them. I am by no means a playboy. In fact, I can count the number of women I have slept with on one hand. A hand that has been maimed in a band saw accident, at that. Which baffles me, because I’m hung like a horse. A horse that has also been maimed in a band saw accident. I have a gap in my teeth, so cunnilingus is usually preceded by a half an hour of convincing the girl that her clit will not be in danger. Point being: I’m not deprived, but I’m not immersed either. I think my point of view is rooted in mutual ground.

Furthermore, I’m not completely innocent of pushing the envelope, as far as the subject goes, with my own material. I have a bit where I declare that “I refuse to hit women…unless they’re pregnant. I’m all for child abuse, and I likes to get a head start. I walk around Target, crushing stomachs whack-a-mole style. “Pardon me, Ma’am. Nothing personal. This is between me and the little pretard inside of you.” I’d say about thirty percent of the women I have done this bit in front of look at me like I just took away their right to vote. The rest of the ladies, and most of the men, just chuckle at the absurdity of the premise. I’m not talking about specific jokes. Jokes are harmless. I’m questioning the attitudes and personalities behind the comics that have a visible chip on their shoulder.

I swear, some of the open mics that I have done must have been located next door to a court-ordered anger management class. I don’t like feeling like I have just witnessed a fraternity style gang rape being committed against an imaginary girl. A lot of these angry comics end a typical night by relieving their sexual frustrations into the still-moist sock fresh off of their foot (a surefire way to contract Athletes Cock, by the way) and they use the stage, a stage intended for comedy, to vent about the hand they were dealt in life and what they chose to do with it. If any of these Romeo’s were to go through with the rape that their act revolves around, they would probably pay their victim afterward out of force of habit. When Andy Kauffman wrestled women, it was so bizarre and subversive that it came off as purely entertaining. A far cry from the hostile overtones of an all male open mic. Some bitter, creepy, awkward-vibe producing antagonist with a grudge against the no-financial-strings-attached pussy that has always eluded him is seldom funny or entertaining. This isn’t as much of an issue on the professional level. It’s hard to be main-stream when you alienate half of your potential audience right off the bat. Also, this isn’t an issue that exists solely inside the walls of the comedy club. Society as a whole has a concerning tendency to look the other way when shitty behavior is exhibited; a diminishing concern for human decency, if you will.

Kobe Bryant commits anal rape, but C’mon! He’s the best player in the NBA. Sometimes you have to break in the back door, we understand. Chris Brown goes off on his girlfriend like a startled chimp. Beats, chokes and bites her before dumping her on the side of the road like she was an old sofa. Are women outraged? Probably, but not like they should be. One sixteen year old girl told me that Rhiana had it coming. Dumb bitches still show up in droves to Brown’s concerts and they still support his albums to a fanatic degree. As one enlightened lady put it, “any girl ignorant enough to buy a Chris Brown record deserves to get slapped with it.” Thanks for the line, grandma.

I will never understand our contradicting morals and standards. I cannot help but to let out a long-winded “what the fuck?” (Not WTF. Outrage is too combustible for abbreviation.) If Tiger Woods would have beaten his wife, rather than cheating on her, his character would have been demonized to a much lesser extent and he would be able to come out of hiding and get on with his life already. I’m not going to lose any sleep over the any of this; I just wish that we could all come to a consensus. That we could all agree that what’s right is right, and what’s wrong (i.e. women-beating, non-consensual penetration of any orifice, war, Republicanism, etc.) is wrong.

HH Update

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Cleveland

My, oh my, that didn’t take long. If only every spin-off could surpass its parent show so quickly.

Attention viewing audience, I have come not to bury The Cleveland Show, but to praise it. I know it took most of the world half a decade to appreciate the genius of Family Guy, but what do you expect when a population is force fed a steady diet of mediocrity (shows like Gary Unwatchable, The Unwatchable Adventures of Old Christine, and My Unwatchable Name is Earl)? Excellence became a foreign taste which took some time to reacquire.

However, now that our palates have been corrected by season after season of Seth MacFarlane’s starter cuisine, I think we should all be ready to enjoy The Cleveland Show without the need for a warming up period.

If you haven’t seen The Cleveland Show, I almost envy you. You still have the pleasure of its discovery in front of you. Waste not a minute, my friends. Stop reading this column right now and make sure your flash player is in good working order. Hulu.com was invented so you could watch this show.

If you like shows with heart, truth, and wit, then The Cleveland Show is the show for you! If you like those other shows listed above in the parentheses… well, what can I say? You’re probably not even reading this column because it is located on a website, not in a coloring book.

As for why I think The Cleveland Show is better than Family Guy, let me just admit that it’s probably because I’m a little soft. For me, The Cleveland Show has all of the biting wit of Family Guy but with softer edges and more likable and sympathetic characters. I root for every character on The Cleveland Show – and that’s a remarkable achievement.

Don’t get me wrong, I think both shows are excellent, but I’ve always preferred The Godfather: Part II to the original The Godfather – and they both won best picture. You just can’t go wrong with a Godfather (unless you liked The Godfather: Part III, then you’re troubled, you’re just, flat out, troubled).

THE LATE NIGHT WARS

Okay, so I’m acting in this space as your Heavy Hitters TV columnist, but like all of the other columnists on this site, I am also an aspiring comedian. Right now, I want to switch hats and become Eric Somers, comedian.

Here’s the dealio:

I had a moment at an open mic last week that was so comical to me, I feel compelled to share it with you now. Ironically, this moment involved a discussion about the current NBC late night fiasco, and could easily be addressed by Eric Somers, TV columnist. But this moment didn’t occur to Eric Somers, TV columnist, it occurred to Eric Somers, comedian… so that’s who’s writing. Got it? Good.

Okay, so I was standing on the balcony of The Pig ‘n’ Whistle open mic with fellow comic/Heavy Hitters columnist Jason Lacour and another comic (who shall remain nameless because I don’t remember his name). We were all just hanging around, shooting the bull, waiting for our spots (it should be noted that this other comic was much younger than Jason or me).

Anywho, somebody brought up the topic of the current mess at The Tonight Show and Jason and I both expressed the opinion that neither Leno nor Conan was as good as Carson. I suppose some Leno or Conan diehards might find this debatable, but this third comic looked at us like we were nuts. He literally rolled his eyes at us.

Now, I don’t mind a difference of opinion, but this third guy acted like the whole discussion was a no-brainer and that Jason and I were the ones with no brains.

So, in my nicest voice, I said, “What, you didn’t like Johnny Carson?”

And he said, “Who?”

“Johnny Carson,” Jason repeated.

And the guy said, “I’m only 21. I never watched Johnny Carson. I thought you guys were saying Carson Daly was better than Conan or Leno.”

Now it was time for Jason and me to roll our eyes.

“You just said Carson,” repeated the nameless comic, “You never said Johnny.”

So I said, “Buddy, if you really thought we were saying Carson Daly was better than Conan and Leno, I want to thank you for ONLY rolling your eyes. You were entitled to spit on us.”

Have a great week, Heavy Hitters. Have an awesome, awesome week.

Conan & Jay

Pun perfected. I wouldn’t normally say this about a privileged wonder(bread) kid that has spent the better part of the last two decades raking in gross amounts of money in a dream job setting, but Conan O’Brien deserves better. Better than a beaten up, out of touch, spineless banality factory of a network. NBC, which apparently stands for Never Be Comical, is abandoning all faith in a performer that has performed consistently excellent year in and year out. The Peacock is in last place, and they are exerting the type of attitude that might lead one to believe that that’s right where they should stand. Shit belongs in the sewer, if I recall the popular nursery rhyme correctly. When you strategically produce mediocrity in favor of an alternative that is purely and undoubtedly better, when you operate under that type of ass-backwards mentality, you cannot expect extraordinary results.

In the family of Tonight Show hosts, integrity must skip a generation. If Johnny Carson lacked charisma and relevance, and had been asked to step down “early”, I confidently speculate that he would have taken a gracious bow in lieu of lurking in the shadows of Prime-time like a crazed jackal. We’ve all heard the story of Jay Leno hiding in the board room closet, eavesdropping while NBC executives discussed the fate of the show. Almost twenty years later, and Jay is still in that closet. With all due respect to Mr. Leno, he is resembling less a seasoned stand-up comedy veteran and more an attention starved, network poster-manchild Mongoloid that houses an extra chromosome in his abnormal chin. Nevermind the fact that Jay has all but buried the very platform that he built his career with, essentially cutting the rope that he climbed to the top with; but the man just isn’t very funny anymore. He’s like what Bob Sagget would be if Bob had completely said “fuck it.”

For years, I would reluctantly catch snippets of Leno pandering to his vanilla audience while awaiting a more honest comedic effort in O’Brien. When the planned switch was announced in 2004, I was elated to see someone genuinely talented being awarded for all the right reasons. The time came and all seemed right. Conan’s Tonight Show was the double shot of Listerene that I needed to get the bad taste of Leno’s Tonight Show out my mouth. Five years and seven months of being mislead to the notion that the World was going to make sense. A hope that has been aborted by what has unfolded over the last couple of weeks. The ratings are in. It’s official. Up will be down, once again. I admire Conan for refusing to move the Tonight Show into a morning time slot. He seems to care more about NBC’s history than NBC does.

Conan will be out of the picture and Jay Leno will swoop in to transform the Tonight Show into the Good Night Show. A fitting metaphor, considering the age demographic that comprises Leno’s core audience. Older, calmer, less-impulsive, set in their way, less likely to be responsive to new advertising. Got to keep a group like that appeased. Not only is it an issue of pissing off the kids that buy the shit that is being peddled, effectively losing the respect of a new generation, but I notice that the smarter audience tends to be down with CoCo. His line of humor is very much appreciated within the alternative comedy scene. A more likely Leno viewer is a guy that doesn’t like to reach too far for his punch lines; or an overbearing housewife, with too much pent up energy, that laughs and makes annoying facial expressions every time she is even remotely kidding. You know the type. The “I’m just trying to keep shit off of my mind” type.

The Jay Leno Show didn’t fail because it wasn’t right for Primetime. It failed because it wasn’t right. It was uninspired. I dare you to watch it without once rolling your eyes. Jay’s going through creative menopause. His comedy eggs are drying up. The very idea of having respected professionals earn their plug is a pretentious idea that puts Jay and his show on some undeserved pedestal. The very idea that a guy that screwed David Letterman coming and Conan O’Brien going wants anyone to “earn” anything is suspect, to say the least. The main reason that Leno scores better numbers than Conan is pretty cut and dry. In a society where mediocrity is exalted, there are simply more people content with Leno’s C game than there are purists who desire a more deeply-layered talent like O’Brien. America is pumped so full of vapid horseshit that passes for entertainment, many people begin to prefer it. Further evidence that we are in a constant state of arrested development: Arrested Development was cancelled. Cleared out to make room for such programming as Are You Smarter Than a Cheese Grater? David Cross, no. Jeff Foxworth, yes. That is what the majority of the viewing audience wants. When, if ever, is the majority right about anything?

Anything that challenges the intelligence of the double digit I.Q. median that stays glued to the tube is feverishly swept under the rug. Meanwhile, a bi-polar teenager with wig lice and her dullard daddy pimp our youth with substandard, watered-down pop music and a television show that is “good for kids.” Just because a program is devoid of colorful language and hooker spit, doesn’t automatically make it good for kids. It just ensures that a new generation will pass down paralyzed standards to their shallow children.

So, that’s all that’s at stake here. The future quality of our art and entertainment. That’s all. NBC, the good folks that told us that Norm MacDonald isn’t funny (a claim made by Dickless Ebersol and backed by the network), will ring the last few years out of their comedy workhorse until any alternative with a credibility factor removes themselves from the equation. I’m sure big name talent will be bursting through the doors down at NBC Universal now that everyone has witnessed how team players are treated. The integrity of a storied franchise will be compromised for the sake of one man’s inflamed ego. So it will be. If all this is indicative of how things are going to be at NBC, then their immediate future is looking pretty bleak. On the other hand, the rainbow after the storm might prove to be worth all of this trouble. In the wake of such an onslaught of bullshit, it’s good to see it have the right effect on people. The outcry of support for the good guy is reassuring. So often, mediocrity triumphs quality and it goes virtually unnoticed. Maybe The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien will serve as a martyr, perhaps it will not die in vain after all. Conan may end up with a product that is truly his own. He might take over Letterman’s spot in 2012 and make things interesting for all of us. Any business that would screw a good man so blatantly, doesn’t deserve good people in the first place. I cannot think of any puns that involve NBC and First Place.

Open Mic Night

I decided this is the year that I’m going to throw myself to the wolves and go to as many open mics as humanly possible. I’ve rested on my laurels for way too long. I’ve become too comfortable in my routine and while my act has matured from “long-form storytelling” to quicker, tighter, jokes, I still feel as though I haven’t yet tap into my real comic voice.

You know that voice that truly represents what you’re thinking and feeling at that very moment on stage. For me, it comes out from time-to-time during my infrequent adlibs, but it’s simply not often enough. I feel like I rely too much on my written material and not enough focus on exploring new ideas while on stage in the moment. This is something I am working on at open mics.

The open mic circuit is a rough one and the challenge lies in being able to attract focus from the audience. Sometimes, I feel as if someone in the audience sent out a memo before the show starts stating “whatever you do, DON’T LAUGH!” I don’t know why, but it just feels that way. It makes it virtually impossible to measure the quality of your jokes. I know this is just another example of my lack of experience. This is another thing I’m working on at open mics. Get over it and just be funny!

Everyone with whom I discuss the topic of “open mics” says the same thing: don’t let an open mike help you decide whether or not you’re any good. If anything, it’s best to use that environment to get used to bombing. Bombing helps you grow. It helps you become a stronger comedian. You can’t know what’s funny until you know what’s NOT funny. This is just another thing I’m working on at open mics. I need to become more comfortable with silence, because from there comes focus.

It's Official

Well, it’s unfortunate but official, Conan O’Brien is leaving The Tonight Show with his last performance coming this Friday, January 22nd. For the past week, Conan has been opening the show with monologues fun filled with heavy hitting blows at NBC and Jay Leno, leaving you with this sense that his time is limited. On Tuesday, he opened by saying, “Hi, I’m Conan O’Brien and I’m just three days away from the biggest drinking binge in history.” Well the deal has been inked, which is said to be worth $45M. NBC will pay Conan about $32.5M and the rest will be divided amongst his staff. The deal also has some stipulations, like Conan will not be able to perform on air on any other network until September 2010. So, for all you Conan fans, you’ll have to Tivo or DVR his last 2 shows if you want to get your fix in the future.

Happy Smokers

I’m a smoker. I started, like many others, as a teenager. Contrary to what many of the anti-smoking ads would have you believe, it was not cartoon animals, duplicitous tobacco executives or the influence of peer pressure which got me started. I started smoking for the same reason I’ve started anything that ultimately will kill me – pussy. When you’re at a party and all the girls are outside smoking, well shit, who’s got a light? There was not a lot of science behind it other than the biological drive to hump somebody. I knew they were bad for me. Anybody born after 1970 would know it. I just didn’t give a shit. Any ill effects would be dealt with in the future. When you’re a teenager, the one thing you think you have a limitless supply of is time. So here I sit, fifteen years later and thousands of dollars poorer, addicted to cigarettes and yet I still don’t give a shit. Believe me I try. I really do. I watch those commercials with the black lungs and the shriveled up cancer patients breathing through tubes and I say to myself, “This should bother you. These people spend thousands of dollars on research to find the most disturbing images to show with the sole purpose of instilling fear in you.” Then I go have a smoke.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a death wish; quite the contrary. You know how they say that you don’t die in your dreams? Well that is bullshit, I’ve died; several times. I’ve hit the ground, been shot, blown up, stabbed, drowned and run over and I don’t wake up; at least not right away. So I think I have a unique perspective on death and let me tell you, I don’t think it is going to be a picnic.

But it is going to happen. The day will come when the grim reaper comes a knockin’ and I’m told time and time again that when he comes for me, he’ll be holding a cigarette in his hand. People don’t even give you a chance anymore if you’re a smoker. Nobody ever says, “There’s a chance that smoking may give you lung cancer.” No, it’s more like, “I’m looking at a dead man right now. A fucking dead man smokin’.” Like I’m playing some kind of inhalable Russian Roulette where every sixth cigarette contains C4 explosive. Mind you, most of the people who are telling me this are ex-smokers who used to smoke three packs a day back. Not one of these do-gooders has dropped yet but I’m going to die. Me, the contemporary smoker.

I have to be honest when I say that, for a while, it started to get to me. I don’t care who you are, if you keep hearing the same criticism long enough, it will start to get to you. Just ask all my anorexic ex-girlfriends. I even went to the Dr. about it. I had to know. Fifteen years of smoking had to have wrecked havoc on my fragile little lungs by now, right? I did a lung test. The Dr. had me blow in and out of a tube for as long and as hard as I could…then he gave me the lung test. ZING!! Do you want to know my score? Do you want to know the lung age of a thirty-four year old smoker? The age of my lungs is….thirty-five. That’s it. I’ll be thirty-five in one month. After fifteen years of smoking, my lungs have aged one month faster. Statistically, I have a two percent chance of developing lung disease at this point in my life. I had to ask the Dr. what the percentage would be of developing lung disease if I didn’t smoke. He dropped his head and said, “one percent.” Then he had the audacity to look up and say, “That means you have twice the chance of developing lung disease.” That’s around the time I punched him in the face.

In my imagination.

Which brings me to the thought I had when I started this piece. It’s no secret that Americans are really shitty with numbers. If there is one thing that George W. Bush’s, No Child Left Behind, aptitude tests have demonstrated it is that, when it comes to math, well, Americans are really good at sports. And any blood sucking parasite in marketing and advertising will tell you that if you want to sell a product or idea, deception is key. So what do we hear from the anti-smoking lobby? Numbers! Lots and lots of numbers and percentages and statistics. Things like, “every 8 seconds someone dies from smoking.” And, “87 percent of all lung cancer cases involve tobacco.” (The other 13 percent must be the Mesothelioma scourge all the ambulance chasers on day time TV keep warning us about) It’s enough to make you want to quit because if you don’t quit, “on average, each cigarette takes 5 minutes off your life expectancy!” Shit! Fuck! Son of a bitch! Do you know what that means?! It means if you smoke a pack a day for 35 years, statistically you’ll lose….a little over 2 years off your life. 2 Years? I don’t know about you but when I figured this out, I had the same anti-climactic feeling I had the first time I paid for sex. That’s it?! What the fuck?! I thought it was supposed to be longer!! What’s that bulge?!!

Look, I understand that there are people out there who strongly oppose smoking. For some reason they feel it is their life’s work to impose their Chicken Little will on the rest of us. I accept that I can’t change that fact. All I can do is add a little perspective to the whole discussion and here it goes. Yes, smoking greatly increases your chance of getting lung cancer but guess what? Statistically, every man on this planet, smoker or not, has a 1 in 2 chance of getting cancer anyway. Every woman? 1 in 3. Yep, go ahead and look it up. Cancer is a motherfucker and it is going to get most of us whether you smoke or not. Lung, brain, stomach, prostate, testicular, breast, colon, kidney, mouth, you name the body part and there is a cancer that can eat it. In fact, when I think about it, between getting my nuts lopped off, having my asshole carved out or losing a lung, I think I pick lung. I wonder what the percentage is of people who would agree with me.

Going Mobile

In a continued effort to bring you the Heavy Hitters of Comedy from anywhere in the world, we are excited to announce our new mobile website. If you own an iPhone, G-phone, Droid, or Blackberry, you now can view all of our Comedy Columns and Heavy Hitting News. You can also email your favorite columns and news beats to your friends. All you have to do is visit the website on your mobile phone, it’s really easy to use.

We are working on an iPhone application that will give you access to our directories, events, profiles, video and other features and services. Look for that later this year.

Artie Lang

I, along with the rest of the comedy community, am hoping that Artie Lange gets well soon. Physically, yes. Mentally, especially. It takes a very deep-rooted hatred in one’s self to attempt suicide in the first place. To do so in such a gory fashion, a 13” butcher’s knife driven into the gut nine times, well I can only assume Artie sees an image of Hitler feasting on a baby’s heart when he looks in the mirror. Which makes no sense, considering that those exposed to his comedy usually fall in love with his personality within the first two minutes. Whether it be as Norm MacDonald’s counterpart in the hilarious Dirty Work, the generator of most of the laughter on Howard Stern’s program, or the reason to skip SNL in the late Nineties as the shining light on MADtv; Artie is a natural. A great comic with a great spirit. When an episode like this surfaces, people begin to wonder why. What is it about comedy, about creating laughter for a living, that has an adverse effect on the messenger? Why did Richard Jeni hide a fatally depressive side with a chipper stage persona? Why did Freddy Prinze blow his creative mind into chunks? Why did a promising young comedian like Steve Lubetkin end it all by attempting to land on The Comedy Store from the fourteenth floor of the neighboring Hyatt House Hotel? Surely these incidents have to implicate that being a comic, and the pressures and anxieties that come along with the territory, can be intense enough to drive a right-minded man to the brink of destruction. Well, I’m not so sure that if any type of link is legitimate.

What makes me an expert on the subject? I’ve been down that dark alley, Jack. Most comics have tried suicide at least once. As for me, I was in the bathroom, standing naked in front of the mirror. I was at the end of my wits and the plan was to slit my wrist. At the last second, I became uncontrollably nervous and my shaking kicked in. All this turned my suicide attempt into a sloppy circumcision. Now I’m like the rest of you in the pants, and it sickens me. But seriously, folks. As torturous as comedy can be, I don’t think that funny business alone has ever caused anyone to do something so drastic. I think the ability to do such a thing is hardwired in ones psyche all of their life. A chemical imbalance, if you will. A case of genetic miswiring. The same thing that might cause a person to be gay or Republican. Same difference, I know.

The onslaught of blow, pills, smack, crank, booze and whatever other chemical substance a pressure-ridden comic can get their grubby little hands on only aides in triggering such brain abnormalities. It surely isn’t an issue of material content. Feeling grossly irresponsible for the horrible things that they have shared with others. If such was the case, Rush Limbaugh would have hung himself with a rodeo lasso long ago. Glenn Beck might have an on-air epiphany and puncture his jugular with the knife that he uses to slice watermelon with (side note: I figured out why Beck eats during his broadcasts. My theory is, he wants to literally and continually increase the amount of shit that he is full of. Releasing said shit over the airwaves requires immediate replenishing.) I think some people try to over-analyze the issue. Years of not getting what they want from an audience, creative frustration, not hearing the laughter the way they needed to drove a once happy clown into a walking tragedy. It makes for good fodder in an overly-dramatic L.A. Times piece, but this is one green comedian that isn’t buying into such drivel. I’ve considered the arguments, as I do with all issues. I like to think that my mind is more open than Kurt Cobain’s. Furthermore, it isn’t like I’m sticking up for the art form that I have decided to dedicate my life to just for the sake of being comfortably oblivious. As bad as my worst night in comedy has been, intensify it a thousand times over and I still realize, it’s only comedy. Jokes. Bullshit. Nothing in this game of ours is serious enough to end your life over.

Artie is battling chemically induced “demons.” A supernatural metaphor if I’ve ever heard one. Jeni battled severe depression and psychosis for years. Factor in a steady diet of anti-depressants. Side effects may include suicide. If anything, I’m willing to bet that comedy proved to be a much needed cathartic escape for the fallen soldier. Lubetkin chose a radical extreme to prove a point that was very near and dear to his heart. Again, mark it up to psychosis. He wasn’t completely crazy, but he clearly wasn’t completely sane. Obviously are positions aren’t parallel, but if I were banished from The Store I would bitch and gripe as a form of protest, but I would do it in front of The Improv. Life in-tact. Linking the high-pressure nature of stand-up comedy to suicidal behavior is a cheap cop-out. It’s an easy, and sometimes maybe even interesting, way to dance around the core issue behind such an unfortunate occurrence. I will sum this up with one more “get well, Artie.” Mentally. Leave the poison behind and bless the attentive ears of the comedy community like only you can.

Conan or Jay

It’s not official, but it looks like Conan O’Brien will be leaving “The Tonight Show.” This is a complete disappointment to fans of the show as well as the fans of the franchise.

Last night on “The Jay Leno Show,” Jay decided to offer his point of view on the whole situation, which was an obvious attempt to selfishly save face. Unfortunately, it didn’t work for me! Remember the days, when entertaining an audience meant you actually had to entertain the audience? Boy, those were the days, but now it is all about reality TV moments. Here’s a nickels worth of free advice, “stop talking about your backstage business and just handle it!”

It took Jay a total of 3 and a half minutes of network television time to explain his view of the situation and guess what? It turns out it is completely NBC’s fault. How about that? Jay explained that NBC is unhappy with his shows performance, oh yeah, and Conan’s too.

This just in: Jeff Zucker, President of NBC has just commissioned a time machine and they are ready to go back in time. GREAT SCOTT MARTY!

Jay went on to explain that in 2007, NBC wanted to retain both Jay and Conan, and in an effort to not repeat the past (Jay Laughs), NBC offered Conan the “Tonight Show” job. Unfortunately, they gave Conan the job with 7 months left on Jay’s contract. NBC said “oops, our bad…hindsight is 20/20” and proceeded to repeatedly shoot themselves in the foot with a sawed-off comedy shotgun.

Here’s how the ship hit the iceberg, it was when NBC decided to move Jay Leno to prime-time instead of paying out the remainder of his contract. The reality is that “The Jay Leno Show” is scoring the low numbers that are affecting the affiliates.

My favorite thing about this big ass debacle is that Jay refers to being replaced by Conan as being fired. Just for the record, Jay has never been fired from NBC. He was repurposed. There’s a difference.

Well, thanks Jay for wasting my time last night, letting me in on how you see it. Your negotiation tactics are terrible. Are you looking for free legal advice or sympathy?

This is a complete disaster for NBC and just another example of why the network continues to be in last place. When Comcast purchases the network I hope heads roll.

Conan after 16 years of “The Late Show” and 7 months of “The Tonight Show,” NBC has decided to screw you over. They are going with Jay. I only hope your move is quick and successful and that you blow Jay out of the water. The game is on! Good luck.

Sully

Hello, television fans. Did you manage to catch the feel good story of the week?

I’m sure you did. You couldn’t turn on a news program without getting smacked in the face with it. I’m referring, of course, to the one year anniversary of Sully Sullenberger crashing his plane into a river. Hooray!

I guess it wasn’t enough that we threw him a dozen parades when it happened, now it looks like we’re going to have to celebrate it every January for the rest of our lives.

Look, don’t get me wrong. I get it. The guy crashed a plane into a river and nobody died. I’m glad about that. In fact, I’ll go as far as conceding that he’s the greatest pilot ever when it comes to crashing planes into rivers. But on the flip side, he’s probably the worst pilot ever when it comes to avoiding flocks of birds that are so gigantic, they knock out both engines. That never happened before! Every other pilot who’s ever flown a plane is better than him at THAT.

So, my question is… where’s their parade?

Come to think of it, where’s my parade? I mean, I’m not a pilot, but I once ran over my neighbor’s turtle as I was crashing into his pool. Did I get a parade? No, all I got was a DUI and a lecture. Zing!

But seriously, all this Sully worship is making me uncomfortable.

I know times are tough, but are we really so desperate for a hero that we need to honor a guy because he successfully crash landed a plane. How can I call a guy a hero when I don’t even know if he’s brave?

“What do you mean you don’t know if he’s brave?”

I mean — I don’t know if he’s brave! When a guy is walking down the street, minding his own business, and he decides to risk his life by running into a burning building to save 150 people, I know THAT guy is brave.

However, when a different guy is plummeting to earth in his airplane, and he decides that it’s safer to crash into water than into ground, I know he’s smart, but I don’t know he’s brave. Practicing self preservation is not bravery, it’s… self preservation!

Did 150 passengers benefit from Sully’s smarts? Yes. Did Sully take even one extra iota of risk to his own safety in order to save those people? No. Hells no!

Go back and watch the interviews he gave right after the crash. He said he was surprised by all of the attention and that he didn’t consider himself a hero.

I’m right there with you, buddy. I am so, so, so right there with you.

When Captain Joseph Hazelwood crashed his boat, the Exxon Valdez, into an iceberg, they crucified him – and he wasn’t even driving the boat! I think Joseph Hazelwood’s biggest mistake was not having a cute nickname. I mean, if everybody knew him as Joey Joe Joe Hazel Eyes, I’ll bet he would have gotten a parade too.

So, in conclusion, how come some people say they have an “ear hair problem?” That’s redundant. Just say you have ear hair. Ain’t nobody gonna need you to add that it’s a problem.

Adventureland

One would think, that a movie directed by Greg Mottola of “Superbad” fame and featuring Ryan Reynolds and Saturday Night Live players Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig would be a rip-roaring display of lowbrow yet quality humor especially when the DVD has the ever-popular “unrated” stamp printed on its case. Newcomer Jesse Eisenberg and “Twilight’s” Kristen Stewart brought a level of complexity to this enjoyable, yet semi-serious comedy about life at a 1987 Pittsburgh amusement park. And yes, this movie did have its share of “kicks in the gonads,” “puke takes” and “boner jokes.”

Eisenberg plays an intellectual and timid virgin (James Brennan), whose parents welsh on their graduation gift of a trip to Europe and money for grad school, when his dad takes an unexpected pay cut and as a result finds himself having to seek employment at Adventureland. A cheesy amusement park with rigged carnival games, where he meets Em played by Stewart, who saves him from being knifed by an angry park patron trying to win a “giant-ass” stuffed panda. From that point on James becomes enamored with Em, who is having a secret love affair with the married park maintenance man Mike Connell played by Reynolds who, as always, does a remarkable performance of portraying your stereotypical d-bag.

It’s safe to say that “Adventureland” is one of those movies, which allows the audience to reminisce on those uncertain yet hope-filled days that a young adult feels when entering the real world. The viewer, who is currently at this stage of their life, can probably relate to this tumultuous and nauseating period, which can leave you feeling like one of Adventureland’s attendees, after eating a spoiled corndog. Memory evoker or not, this film is at the very least is an entertaining and well cast movie.

Eisenberg proves himself to be a talented actor and good lead who can, at times, deliver humor albeit as being the brunt of pathetic and embarrassing situations that are all too typical in these types of comedies. His character could have easily been portrayed by Michael Cera, but luckily for anyone watching the film it was not, as I think we’ve all had enough of him at this point.

Stewart, not surprisingly and Reynolds, surprisingly, played the straight roles in this comedy and added some of the drama that I was not anticipating prior to watching “Adventureland.” But a dash of drama made for a good balance to some of the wackiness provided by the supporting cast.

Hader and his fake (or at least it looked fake) mustache brought a good portion of the laughs as the park manager Bobby. While many of the supporting characters brought a smile to my face, Hader probably gave me the biggest laugh throughout the movie, which is not a surprise because he’s one of the few current cast members on SNL that can give me a genuine chuckle.

Martin Starr’s character Joel, James’ nihilist friend, and Friggo, James’ ball-kicking nemesis played by Matt Bush, also provide some of the funnier moments of the film. I would expect to see both of these young actors’ again in future comedic roles.

Other than the few moments of laugh-out-loud humor, “Adventureland” was not a crackup of a movie. That being said…it was humorous and entertaining, not to mention it has an excellent soundtrack. Looks like my desire to get out of Blockbuster quickly by grabbing the first comedy I found alphabetically in the “New Release” section, rewarded me this time by providing quality home entertainment for a rainy Sunday afternoon. If El Nino keeps dropping buckets of water on Los Angeles, I may find myself at Blockbuster a whole lot more, using the same lazy technique that landed “Adventureland” in my DVD player.

Mo'Nique

Comedian Mo’Nique won big at the Golden Globes last night picking up the award for best performance by an actress in a supporting role for her portrayal of “Mary” in the film “Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire.” She took home the Globe and the victory immediately set off talk about the Oscars. It was her acceptance speech at the beginning of the show that was one of the most moving moments on stage. “I’m shaking,” she said. “And when I tell y’all I am in the midst of my dream, and when I look into the eyes of the man that I stood next to at 14 years old and I said to him, ‘One day, we are going to be stars.’ And he said, ‘You first.’ And we walked this red carpet together tonight. Sidney, I love you more than you will ever know, baby.” Mo’Nique’s performance in “Precious” is just another example of how stand-up comedians can crossover and perform serious roles. I’ve always been a fan of Mo’Nique for her ability to stay true to herself. I fell in love with her when she performed for a woman’s detention center in her comedy special “I Couda Been Your Cellmate.” She is a great example of a professional.

The Gift

I’m a young comedian and I constantly feel like I’m being taken advantage of. I also get the feeling that show promoters don’t really have my back. Don’t get me wrong, I have met a few promoters that actually care, while others are simply more concerned with how much money they make.

There are so many promoters who really have no business running a show. Recently, I was screwed over by this one promoter in a major room in Los Angeles. He put together a lineup of ten comedians, all with varying set times which were based on the number of people they brought. Those who brought more people got to choose the best spots. Unfortunately, many of them simply were not prepared for a show of this crowd size. What I didn’t know was that many of these “comedians” were performing for the first time.

The laughs were not constant and in the middle of a very uneven show, the promoter went up and performed for HALF AN HOUR! Not only that: HE SUCKED. The promoter drove most of the audience away and before those of us who got screwed by the lineup could complain, HE LEFT!

After showing up before 8 p.m., I finally got up at a quarter to midnight in a 200 seat theater to perform for 20, count ‘em 20 exhausted patrons who at this point felt they would probably be better off jamming their fingers in their eyes than laugh. It’s cool though. My “Closer” is centered on eye gouging, so I was able to salvage something.

Naturally, I was quite pissed, but a week later, the same guy offered me another spot in another free cover show. Thinking that he was making up for his mistake, I said yes. A couple days before the show, I started to get a little paranoid about this guy and his so called free shows. So, I texted him and ask, “Hey man, I just wanted to make sure the show is on for Tuesday at 9 p.m. and I wanted to confirm that I was on the lineup.” He replies, “Yes, absolutely, you are definitely in. 100%, slam dunk, no doubt, you are confirmed in my lineup. I will see you on Tuesday. Oh, by the way… Who is this?” I’m 100% in the show and you have no idea who this is: that doesn’t even make any sense!

Well, that Tuesday came around, and I was able to vent my frustrations when it came time for my set. While I’m sure the promoter would not have been happy to hear what I had to say, it really doesn’t matter, because he didn’t even show up for his own show. Typical! I suppose the people at the show dug it. They were laughing and they even invited me back.
I almost owe the jerk promoter a debt of gratitude, because he injected some life into an act that I felt had been losing steam. A lot of what I perform comes from frustration, and while nothing is frustrating about an act that works, nothing is more frustrating than working with lame promoters. He handed me an ironic gift in the form of disappointment, which I have been fortunate enough to put into words on stage. What the hell am I saying? Screw that guy!

The Jewel of the Nile He's Not

Many news media outlet have been reporting that there is a NEW Osama bin Laden and his name is Anwar al-Awlaki. His picture has been plastered all over the news. Every time I see his picture, all I can think about is… “Is that the guy from the 1985 cult-classic film, THE JEWEL OF THE NILE? It’s one of my favorites, starring Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner, Danny DeVito, and supporting actor Avner Eisenberg, who played the Jewel.

It is uncanny how much they resemble each other. If you ever seen the movie, then you know that the Jewel-of the Nile, was a religious leader of his people as well as an icon. Wow, what a coincidence.

All I want to know is; who originated that look? The beard, strange hat that I have know idea what to call it and those “Where’s Waldo Glasses.” Obviously, the movie was first, circa 1985. So, I wonder. Did al-Awlaki get his look from the movie or is it just a coincidence?

His father just came out and said he was educated in the United States. So, that’s minus 1 point for the terrorist. What’s next, are we going to have to worry about people looking like Clark Griswold from the Family Vacation franchise. What a nightmare!

Conan O'Brien

Conan O’Brien has just announced that he will NOT be taking NBC’s offer to move the “TONIGHT SHOW” to the 12:05am time-slot. He went on to say, that any move would ruin the show permanently and that he hopes a deal can be made with NBC to stay in the same time-slot. Well NBC, the ball is now in your court, and all I have to say is, don’t mess it up.

NBC has a real big problem with transitioning shows. This disaster happened 18 years ago with Jay Leno and David Lettermen and now…Conan O’Brien. It is so sad that NBC hasn’t learned from its mistakes. I guess this is why NBC is in last place, poor decision making. Come on Jeff Z.!

NBC, this is what you should do if you want to continue to be respected as a producer of quality television programming. You need to tell Jay Leno, it has been fun, but it is time to say “Goodbye.” You can’t continue to give Jay Leno everything he asks for. It’s simply not fair to Conan or Jimmy Fallen. This problem impacts Conan and Jimmy’s staff personally as well as their fans, which they work so hard for night in and night out.

I get business and I know that both shows are not doing as well as they once did in their former time-slots, but damage has been done. You can not move Jay back to his old time-slot and think you’ll fix the problem, because his fans have moved on. It is now time to invest strength and passion for the new face of the TONIGHT SHOW. Conan and his staff have made a major life move to California to continue the legacy of one of the greatest shows on television. Conan’s numbers will improve and you will hate seeing that when you read the Nielsen’s. Don’t be foolish.

Here’s how you pull NBC out of last place. It begins with going back to basics. For one, bring back the sitcom. It seems to work for every other network. I know you guys want to save money, then I suggest going after unknown talent. Turn nobodies into house-hold names and stop paying MOVIE STARS to play television roles. Give me a chance and I will take you out of the red!

Hugh Laurie

It’s that time again, Heavy Hitters. It’s time to raise your glasses to me. I’ve reached the magical milestone of 20 columns, and like any American worker, I’m celebrating by taking the week off and phoning it in.

Instead of the thoughtful, meticulously fitted together argument that you usually find in this space, today you’ll be getting a hodgepodge of unrelated thoughts, sloppily worded, and free of concern for your enjoyment!

I warned you ten weeks ago that I’d be doing this every tenth column, so please just pay the price for the nine gems in the middle and listen to me prattle on until I don’t feel like typing anymore.

First up, kudos to the People’s Choice Awards.

No, I’m not being sarcastic, you cynical sons of biscuits. The “People,” or at least the ones who did the choosing, did something remarkable last week. They achieved something that the out of touch Academy of Television Arts has been unable to achieve. They recognized House and its star, Hugh Laurie, as the most compelling show and actor on the air. Suck on that, fans of Mad Men (actually, I kind of like Mad Men, but I absolutely love House, and I was seriously considering going “Kanye West” at the podium if he didn’t eventually receive some kind of overdue acclaim).

Next up (come on, you can guess this. I’m not even trying to be unpredictable), JEERS to the People’s Choice Awards.

Oh snap! Did you see what I just did there? I gaaaaaave — and then immediately took away (kudos then jeers). Talk about balanced journalism, where do I go to receive my Edward R. Murrow award? Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the “People” blew it. They gave a best comedy award to a Chuck Lorre show.

Look, even though The Big Bang Theory is the least sophomoric Chuck Lorre sitcom to air since his last good one, Grace Under Fire, it still isn’t as good or as funny as any of the following shows that should have beaten it for best comedy: The Simpsons, Family Guy, The Cleveland Show, Entourage, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Hung, and House (yeah, House is that good). Just because a show is about scientists, that doesn’t make it smart. The people got it wrong, wrong, wrong when they named The Big Bang Theory best comedy. On the other hand, at least the people did not name 30 Rock best comedy, and for that I am so grateful, I retract 30% of my jeer.

Moving on…

Andre Braugher is so good on Men of a Certain Age, it makes me want to donkey punch any movie producer in Hollywood who would even consider making a movie that didn’t include a part for him. Scott Bakula is also fantastic on that show, and Ray Romano would be getting similar accolades if his character wasn’t so needy and whiny. Men of a Certain Age is so well-written, I can’t stop watching it even though every episode is as joyless as an episode of Felicity. I’m begging you, Ray. Please let these characters be happy some of the time. Your credits indicate that once upon a time you TRIED to make people smile.

And changing gears again…

Nobody could find Everybody Hates Chris when it was in production. It got canceled, went into syndication, and now it’s on 14 times a day. Hey America, now do you see what you were missing? For the love of God, would some network please capitalize on this situation and put this great sitcom back into production? I hear NBC is about to open up five hours a week of prime time real estate. Hmmm.

And now, for something completely different.

When comedian Richard Jeni killed himself, I couldn’t get over my anger. Now that Artie Lange has attempted suicide, I can’t get past my sadness and frustration. Why can’t smart, funny guys realize that everyone gets depressed, but that the work they do is like Prozac for the rest of us? I don’t care if you take drugs, sleep with hookers, and weigh 500 pounds, you have to get over your guilt and accept yourselves as whatever you are. Consider your shortcomings as the price you pay for your genius. Let’s face it, folks, as any viewer of most of today’s “comedies” will attest, the ability to genuinely make people laugh is too rare and too precious to just extinguish. It needs to be preserved at all costs. In other words, stop depriving me of my Prozac!

Attention Jay and Conan, I think I have a solution. Give Jay his 11:30 timeslot back and give Conan a prime time show. Conan was at his best when he wrote on The Simpsons. Maybe he could write himself a great sitcom. God knows we could use one.

That’s it for this week, Heavy Hitters. How did it feel to read a column that took longer to read than to write? I know, it felt exactly like watching an episode of Gary Unmarried.

Toodles.

Foxy Lady

Sarah Palin has signed a multi-year deal with FOX News Channel to serve as a news contributor. FOX executive vice president, Bill Shine, said this move will help give Palin a larger audience while she continues to figure out whether to run for president in 2012. Well, if I didn’t call this one months ago. I predicted this move on July 3rd, 2009, after she announced her resignation as Alaska’s governor. I knew that she would eventually be on television full-time. I just thought it might be something a long the lines of the Huckabee or Glen Beck show, but even FOX knows that’s a risk not worse taking. Check out my twitter account for predictions.

Non-the-less, this is great news for the comedy community. John Stewart, and the rest of the gang is going to have a field day. You can count on it. This will be the hardest job she has ever had. I just hope they are paying her enough. She is going to be the funniest thing in 2010. I can’t wait for it.

Mark McGwire

Today, Mark McGwire admitted to the Associated Press that he had in fact taken steroids for a 10 year period and during that time he broke Roger Maris’s homerun record. It is believed that he came clean due to a new job with the St. Louis Cardinals. He recently became the hitting coach and felt obligated to set the record straight. It has been something he said he had been hiding behind for years. He admits to hating playing baseball during the “Steroid Era,” but also stated, that the Major League Baseball Organization has done a great job of eliminating the problem.

Wow, I’m truly amazed. Good for you Mr. McGwire. Even though you will receive a lot of criticism, I think it is always healthier for the sole to relieve yourself of the lies that you carry. That baggage is just no good. I knew you would come clean. It was only a matter of time. Especially, if you wanted any chance of getting into the Hall of Fame, you had to come clean. I mean, if you just compare the photos of the pre-steroid Mark McGwire verses the post-steroid Marc McGwire, it was like night and day. One minute he’s soooo small, and then boom, he’s the Hulk!

I did like watching all those homeruns though. That baseball bat looked like a toothpick. Whap! Homerun!

What if we allowed selected players to get all ripped by the steroids and then change the name from “Designated Hitter” to the “BEAST?” I’m just sayin’, it might improve the game a bit.

Jay Leno Show

There are rumors circulating that THE JAY LENO SHOW may be on the chopping block. NBC made a statement today confirming that there are issues with the show, but that they are confident in Jay Leno and are currently looking for ways to improve the show. Well, that didn’t stop Jay from joking about the rumors in last night’s show monologue. He said that he heard about the rumors on the radio, on his way into work. Joking with Kevin, he said, “If we are canceled, then we could take a vacation, and I hear the weather at FOX is really nice this time of year.” He also said, “NBC really stands for Never Believe your Contract,” touche.

Here’s the real talk: THE JAY LENO SHOW will go dark at 10pm during the Winter Olympics, and will be returning to the lineup at 11:30pm when the Olympics have ended. THE JAY LENO SHOW will be shortening its program to a half-hour, pushing the TONIGHT SHOW WITH CONAN O’BRIEN to 12pm and THE LATE SHOW WITH JIMMY FALLON to 1:05am.

Well, I have to tell you, I saw this coming. I was truly shocked to hear that Jay Leno was going to have a show at 10pm. I mean, the 10pm time-slot is probably the worst time-slot for the talk show format. I knew it was going to have a hard time creating confidence with the affiliates. Plus, the new show format is not really that appealing. I mean, to have your guests “Earn Their Plug,” it sounds cute, but not well-executed. The current show is simply “hit or miss.” I love the DAN BAND segments; JAY WALKING is fun; and the monologue is also entertaining. That’s about it.

I think the best play is for Jay Leno to retire from the talk show world and continue performing stand-up comedy across the country, as well as producing his new show, “Jay’s Garage,” which I fully enjoy. Sometimes, it’s best to just move on when you are on top of your game.

Don't Cry Tiger

Tiger Woods is still in the news and it’s becoming a little bit stalking, in my opinion. The media continues to report the “non-sighting” of the elusive Tiger of the forest lawn. This story is like being on a permanent safari filled with jokes. Where is that Tiger? Is he in Africa? Come on, stop it! Is he in Europe, South Florida or New York? What is this Carmen San Diego? Who really gives a shit? Today, the news reported that Tiger might be in New York staying with his friend Jim Dolan, the owner of Madison Square Garden. Well, that mansion should be comfortable enough to hide in, I’m sure. All I really have to say is: What’s it like to be a billionaire-in-hiding? That’s got to suck big-time.

My favorite part of this story is that Tiger is married to a beautiful woman, who has an identical beautiful twin sister. I mean, when does THAT party really get started? How many times do you think he’s rubbed up against the wrong twin? I’m going to say at least once.

I enjoy the fact that the media often isn’t sure if they have the correct twin. It must make heads explode in the paparazzi world just trying to figure out if IT’S Tiger’s wife or the other one. Hilarity!

The reason Tiger is hiding is obvious. He has something wrong with his face. He is probably in New York for plastic and reconstructive surgery, as well as the removal of his Titleist 975D Driver from his ass.

We will see Tiger soon enough, but when we do, we will all be looking for the scares. Good luck, plastic surgeons. “And Tiger, don’t mess with your nose, chin or cheek bones and definitely don’t use any lotion you get from Sammy Sosa!”

Underwear Bomb

As I was watching the news this morning I had a thought. It happened during one of these never ending segments on terrorism we’ve been subjected to ever since Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab tried to blow up his BVD’s on a Christmas Day flight to Detroit. You know the story, “Our enemy is resolute. Our enemy is inventive. We cannot guarantee 100% safety. Be afraid. Be impotent. We’re doing everything we can.” The thought I had was, “we can’t win this war on terror.” Not like this. Not with these people.

It has nothing to do with the men and women of our armed forces. Bar none, they are the most efficient and ferocious fighting force this planet has ever seen. There is not an army in the world that can stand toe to toe with the U.S. military. Unfortunately, our enemies know this so nobody is going to do something that fucking dumb. Nope, this is a new kind of war with no discernible front lines. Our enemies live amongst us. They are shrouded in secrecy, communicating through the World Wide Web as they lie dormant until it is time to strike. And we watch.

It seems as though we have that part down – watching. Our so called security officials keep telling us that they are watching their watch lists and watching the internet and watching the chat rooms and it seems to be effective. I mean there hasn’t been another 9/11 so we gotta be doing something right, right? Well yes and no. Just because your kid is the top student in a class of special-ed children doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a retard. (There probably won’t be a lot of laughs in this column so I thought I’d get ‘em in where they fit in)

Believe it or not, the mighty United States of America is at a disadvantage when it comes to this war on terror and that disadvantage is the under utilization of its most valuable resource; its citizens. No, I’m not saying that we should instill a draft. Shit, I’d be a Canadian faster than you could say E-1. What I’m saying is that our government has gotten so arrogant and swollen sucking its own cock that it seems to have forgotten what got the U.S. to the top of the global food chain in the first place; the fervent swarm of productivity and innovation of an empowered and determined U.S. populous. Yet here we sit, hands tied behind our backs and eyes covered by a mask of secrecy as our officials whisper, “we’ll try to take care of you” in our ears. Compare that to your garden variety Joe Terrorist who, with a little information, can deliver a major blow to us by shoving some C4 up his ass and jumping on a flight to Vegas.

We don’t need weapons training. We just need some information. Every security official on CNN has been talking about monitoring the Jihad websites. They say that Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab had been chatting in Jihad forums. Jihad forums??!! Where the fuck are these Jihad forums? Google “jihad forums.” Go ahead, Google it. I’ll wait.

Well what did you find? I already know; articles from non-Jihadists writing about these mythical websites. Apparently not everybody gives a shit about who Tiger Woods has been fucking. Give us these URL’s, Uncle Sam! Let us at ‘em! I haven’t read the Art of War but I’m pretty sure there has got to be a chapter in there about disrupting communication. Imagine how hard it would be for Osama bin Laden to give cryptic orders if every terrorist had to sift through millions of posts, links and status updates. How are they going to know when to strike when all they can see are invites to Loc Dog’s Pajama Jammy Jam, Cooter Bob’s KKK rants and Chris Putro’s Belly Room invites?

Everyday, the news should post the URL’s to every Jihadist website our intelligence gathers. “Today the Dow closed up 140 points and now here’s Poppy Harlow with the Jihad report.” There would be viruses and spam like you wouldn’t fucking believe and we would feel good about it; giving to the war effort, doing our part. Who knows? Maybe it just might be enough to turn the tide of this never ending struggle. If nothing else, maybe Heavy Hitters of Comedy could get more than 50 subscribers. Hey, Jihadists need a laugh too…I think.

Casey Johnson

Why do young people keeping dying? Here’s the answer: Young people are dying because of pharmaceutical drugs. Basically, it is the combination of legal drugs, illegal drugs, alcohol and fucked up diets which are causing everyone to die before their time. I believe rich children are predisposed to having a problem with drugs, both legal and illegal. It is due in part to rich parents giving their children things they should not have, like homes and fancy cars. By giving your children things they shouldn’t have you run the risk of creating an individual that is never satisfied. Children who are not satisfied experiment with drugs. The drugs they experiment with are the ones they find in their parents’ medicine cabinets. Drug companies create drugs they believe help solve problems, but unfortunately, they do not work when placed in our control. Oops. If you think your child doesn’t have a problem now, just give it time. Also, remember, children are great at hiding the truth and manipulation. So, good luck getting the facts. Stop giving your children shit they don’t have to earn and make them work extremely hard for the simple things.

Charlie Sheen

Do you guys ever want to punch your parents in the face?

I mean, I love my dad, but every once in a while, he makes me so mad, I just want to shit in a bag and throw it at his car.

But… perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let me start by acknowledging something. When you’re an open mic comic, your family has a right to ask you why you’re throwing your life away. I get it. No money, no security, and long odds against making it.

But the one thing I do have is my integrity. I believe in comedy. And the comedy I believe in the most is the television sitcom. I love the sitcom. Watching Seinfeld or Frasier or Entourage is the most enjoyable half hour of my day. These shows are smart and funny, they engage me in their stories, and they make me feel like their characters are my most interesting friends.

Furthermore, watching these shows reminds me that there is a place for me in the world of sitcoms. When god-awful shows like Two and a Half Men, 30 Rock, and Gary Unmarried are coming back season after season, I know that there’s a need for writers who understand the difference between turds and shows like Seinfeld, Taxi, and The Simpsons.

So I pay the price at open mics trying to make connections in the comedy world and hoping I’ll meet the agent, comic, or assistant to a showrunner who can get my specs in front of people who can hire me. I believe my goal is noble and, to some degree, selfless. I believe this world will be a better place when I can give it the next Seinfeld or The Larry Sanders Show (or Roseanne or M*A*S*H* or Curb Your Enthusiasm).

What I don’t need to hear from my father is that I should stop putting down shows like Two and a Half Men and Gary Unmarried because, “After all, a lot of people watch them, so they must be doing something right.”

Really?

REALLY?

Is that what it’s come to? My parents would rather I produce a mountain of shit that gets airtime than try to produce something good?

“They’ve got to be doing SOMETHING right,” insisted my dad.

And I snapped.

“You’re right, Dad,” I said. “They must be doing something right, even though they’ve never given us a character with an IQ over 80, a joke that wasn’t so predictable that you couldn’t see it coming from before you turned on your TV, and stories so ludicrous that no viewer has ever uttered the phrase, “Yeah, that’s just what I would have done.””

They’re clearly doing something right.

If being on the air and making money means you must be doing something right, then they must be doing something right. Is that your argument, Dad?

Yes?

Then I guess we better acknowledge some other people who “must have been doing SOMETHING right.”

Hitler. He stayed in power for a long time. I guess you’d have to say he was doing something right.

Slave owners. They had a real productive run. I guess there must be something right about slavery.

Teenage prostitution. Drug abuse. The Detroit Lions. They all must be doing something right.

Right?

They’re all making money.

Look, I’m not saying that Chuck Lorre sitcoms are as bad as Hitler or the Detroit Lions, but I am saying that they are shitty, shitty sitcoms. And the fact that people watch them does not mean that he’s doing something right. It simply means that he has enough elements to sustain an audience.

For crying out loud, For the Love of Ray Jay sustains an audience. Does that mean he’s doing something right?

Mere existence is not an argument for proliferation. Those of us who are trying to do quality work don’t need your encouragement to sell out. There’s plenty of that already (I mean, come on, do you really think Jay Mohr thinks Gary Unmarried is funny? It’s heresy).

Clearly, I don’t yet know how to get MY sitcom made, but that doesn’t mean it should stop me from calling out turds.

After all, I’m pretty sure that long before we got rid of Hitler and slave owners, somebody somewhere was brave enough to say out loud that those folks were bad guys. And THAT somebody, I believe, “had to be saying SOMETHING right.” Right?

Right!

Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh was released from the hospital yesterday in Hawaii after doctors discovered there was “Nothing Wrong” with him. I find that truly hard to believe. Just looking at him I can find at least 3 things wrong, starting with his gigantic melon head. In true Rush fashion, he had a press conference at the hospital, where he took a jab at the President, claiming that the “health care system works just fine.”

What a jerk. Of course, we have hospitals in the country performing incredible medical services, using cutting edge technologies and who have the highest regards for standards. And, yes, the “System” in fact does work just fine for wealthy individuals who have no problem affording the health care coverage. I’m not trying to argue about whether the hospitals in our country are currently performing services effectively, efficiently and responsibly. I believe the argument is about individuals being able to afford health care coverage. You forget about the people who opt to stay home by default and who most often die, because they know they would rather die at home than take their family into debt in a hospital.

What I really don’t understand is how you can come out and claim that “Your” experience in a hospital is going to be anything like “My” experience in a hospital. I’ll give you an example. For instance, they won’t allow me to put together a press conference when I get released. All I get is a stack of unreadable documents that I have to decipher using some sort of decoder from the Da Vinci Code, before my bill duplicates due to late charges and other fees.

I get it. You are a very powerful man, who loves to influence primarily the ignorant and uneducated bible huggers. That strong, radio-listening part of middle America with their love for fear, football and Sunday Church barbeques. That’s not my crowd.

You act as if the moment we institute a universal health care program, then all of a sudden every doctor and nurse on the planet will forget how to perform their job. Well, I disagree and I don’t live in fear. Like teachers, who perform a universal service and who continue to see their classrooms grow while their paychecks lessen, our doctors and nurses will do the same. They will pick up the slack, and perform. They have a code of ethics to which they follow and they must because of the trust we place in their hands. We have great doctors and wonderful programs in the United States. We must remember and be able to see the problems that exist, and the way we fix the problems is by opening the doors to everyone, and not just the affluent.

Fuck you very much, Rush.

FOX Network

Will the FOX Network be on the air tomorrow, January 1st 2010 on the Time Warner Cable Network? Now, that is the question of the day. For the past week, both companies have been in tight talks regarding their future relationship. Basically, FOX wants money and Time Warner Cable doesn’t want to pay. FOX, who currently offers their channel for free, is tired of the old plan and wants a new one. Time Warner says, why change a good thing? It’s fun to watch two major, not to mention wealthy corporations have a baby fight. Come on guys, dust the dirt off your shoulders, shake hands and come in off the playground. You’re rich for Pete sakes.

Now, I would love to say, fuck FOX. Mainly for creating the FOX News Network, the network of lies and instigation. But, I can’t say fuck FOX, because they are the network that brings you “The O’Reilly Factor” and “Glen Beck,” 2 special shows which gives us so much comedy material it’s ridiculous. They also bring us Sunday Night Football and I love football.

Personally, I’m not much of a FOX fan. I don’t know, I always feel dumb when I watch FOX for some reason. Is it just me? Basically, FOX is just another cartoon network to me. Now, that I am an adult, I find it hard to watch cartoons. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the “Simpsons” and “The Family Guy” for their comedy that uses stereotyping and racially/sexually infused under and over tones. It’s comedy 101, baby. I find them funny and can see why they are so popular. I just don’t make the time to watch them.

Now, FOX wants more of the pie. Well, that’s cool. I guess you can’t get richer unless you ask for more money.

Avatar

This is supposed to be the time. Every columnist for every website and publication around the world is going to write about New Year’s resolutions this week. It is like some unspoken, unwritten obligation to fill their readers’ minds with hacky bullshit. (No offense Eric Somers…well, maybe a little offense but it’s out of love) Well, I’m not doin’ it. Nope, you won’t be reading about what I’m going or not going to do this year. You won’t be reading any tirades from me about how nobody keeps their resolutions. I won’t bore you with the typical top ten list of common bullshit promises people make to themselves only to discover that, come February, they are not just fat and lazy and unsuccessful and rude and addicted and spineless and unmotivated and unloving and stupid, they are also liars. I don’t need to do that. Frankly, that kind of column is beneath you. I understand that my readers already know these things about themselves. What I wanted to write about this week is more important than all of those things. I want to write about the tsunami of over hyped feces that so many of us became victim to this holiday season. Of course, I’m referring to the James Cameron epic, Avatar.

I trust that you saw it. Judging by the box office numbers, everybody saw it. In fact, that is all I kept hearing all week. “Did you see Avatar? It’s awesome!” “Wow, James Cameron did it again; incredible!” “3-D! It’s in 3-D! You gotta see the 3-D!” Okay, before I continue, I will acknowledge that the special effects were good. I haven’t seen special effects like that since Michael Jackson’s last facial reconstruction surgery. In fact, the thought that came to mind as I watched Avatar was, “this reminds me of when I first saw Captain EO.” 3-D film seems to be a lasting technology. It looks good and more important to the studios it can’t be bootlegged by some dude with a Handycam but what about the story? Once the initial awe of seeing a three dimensional world wore off, did anybody else find themselves distracted by the persistent thought, “now that doesn’t make sense”?

Now before you get on your high horse and tell me that even the best science fiction movies have elements which do not make sense by citing scenes from Star Wars, I think it is important to point out that the best science fiction movies are really more science fantasy. It is easier to suspend disbelief when you’re watching the goings on from a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. The minute a director tries to take modern day political issues and cast them one hundred-fifty years in the future, I immediately begin to criticize his foreign policy.

Case in point, James Cameron’s take on health care. His hero, Jake Sully is paralyzed from the waist down. He is told that if he undertakes this mission, he can have the costly operation to fix his legs. Are we really to believe that in the future, we will be able merge human and alien DNA to create a synthetic being which can then be controlled remotely through a Matrix-like wireless consciousness intranet but a little stem cell spinal cord regeneration is out of the budget for a war veteran? C’mon James, I know that the US Government treats its injured soldiers like shit but with the technology you show in your movie, regenerating spinal cords would be the modern day equivalent of having a mole removed. I don’t buy it.

I hope James Cameron never runs for political office because, if elected, we would be broke in no time. In his flick, he sends the military light years away from Earth to undergo a very costly Avatar program in an attempt to relocate Pandora’s inhabitants peacefully from their home so that we could dig up the goodies underneath its surface only to say, “fuck it” and bomb the shit out of the planet anyway. Sound like anybody you know? I’ll give you a hint his initials begin with a “G” and “W.” Actually, the only reason Bush even gave the Iraqis a notice was because the world was watching and as silly as it sounds, he didn’t want to look like too big of a dick before bombing the shit out of a country that had his Texas Tea. Do you really think there would even be an Avatar program if some half naked blue people sat on some sweet sweet Pandora Puddin’ and it was light years away? I’ll give you the headline we would read in the 2154 New York Times. “Haliburton Discovers Gazillion Dollar Unobtanium Deposits on Lifeless Planet.”

Another thing that bugged me in this movie was Sigourney Weaver’s character, Dr. Grace Augustine. She is sympathetic to the plight of the Na’vi people and their connection to the environment around them, their respect for all living things and their symbiotic relationship with nature; all the while smoking cigarettes. Maybe in the future, Phillip Morris creates biodegradable filters. Either that or she was eating those butts.

Speaking of eating butts, did you get a look at the asses of those Na’vi chicks? The only thing I really learned in James Cameron’s preachy science fiction epic was how much of a fetish I have for fit blue chicks with tails. In fact, the best thing that will come out of Avatar, in my opinion, will be the slutty Na’vi costumes this Halloween. I can’t wait to see Hollywood’s finest all painted in blue wearing their cat ears and not much else roaming around Sunset Boulevard. Now that I think about it, it’s enough to make me change my opinion of the film. Now I just wish they had more 3-D Na’vi fucking; maybe in the sequel. Hey James Cameron, if you happen to read this, give the people what they want!

So there you go. The best review of Avatar you will find this year. If you have read this and haven’t seen the film yet, you should still probably check it out just so you can be a member of society. If you have seen it and disagree with me, maybe you should make your New Year’s resolution to be a little more critical of contemporary film makers and be a little less of a dumbass. Happy New Year!

Chili Cheeseburger

Why do we make New Year’s Resolutions?

Are we really trying to achieve meaningful personal growth? Or are we actually a race of masochists – pathetic malcontents who enjoy nothing more than setting ourselves up for failure on an annual basis?

I contend that we make New Year’s Resolutions because we are biologically programmed to be unsatisfied. We always want more, we always want better, we always want to be moving forward.

And what’s the perfect tonic for disdain of complacency? Changing personal behavior! It’s an act that not only busies us, but provides us with an illusion of control (in a world that, everyday, seems to be more and more at the mercy of chaos).

Well I say, face reality!

Arbitrarily choosing the first of January to make a major behavioral change is an unspoken, unprovoked indictment against the people we’ve taken a lifetime to become. Why should we forsake our genuine personalities for contrived personas that are concocted merely because the calendar is changing? The answer is: we shouldn’t. So I say, no more New Year’s Resolutions!

On the other hand, I’d probably feel a whole lot healthier if I stopped eating chili cheeseburgers for breakfast, so, what the hell, let’s go ahead and say that my New Year’s Resolution is to stop eating chili cheeseburgers for breakfast. You got that? No more stopping at Tommy’s before noon.

But wait! What if everybody did that? Sure, we’d all be a little healthier, but what about the employees at Tommy’s who work the morning shift? They’d lose their jobs. I don’t think I could live with myself if I helped to contribute to any more joblessness in this economy.

So, to clarify, my New Year’s Resolution is to continue eating chili cheeseburgers for breakfast. Maybe I won’t feel any healthier, but maybe my good health is a necessary sacrifice for a robust economy.

I mean, how are doctors and hospitals going to make any money if I’m not coming in for bypass surgery? Who do I think I am that I can just, willy nilly, decide to stop eating chili cheeseburgers? Do I really want to topple our healthcare system?

And what about the good people at the napkin factory? Have you ever seen me eat a chili cheeseburger? I probably burn through half a redwood’s worth of napkins. And now you’re asking me to put loggers out of work?

Damn it. I’m really torn here. A part of me still thinks it might be wrong to abuse my body by starting each day with a chili cheeseburger, fries, and a large Mountain Dew, but another part of me knows that economic disaster looms if I change.

Hmmm. Two solid arguments. I just don’t know what to do.

“Hey, Eric”

Yeah?

“Um, your column is titled The State of Television.”

Yeah, so?

“So… why are you talking about chili cheeseburgers?”

Oh, I’m sorry. Are you suggesting that it’s wrong to advertise one thing and deliver something completely different?

“Yeah.”

That’s funny, because it seems to me that Hollywood has a habit of rewarding people who go off on nonsensical tangents. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t there a buttocks load of TV shows that are coming back in 2010 that have yet to deliver on what they promised in 2009?

“Huh?”

Just pipe down. You need to have a little faith that I’m eventually going to make a point about television. Haven’t I always meandered my way to some sort of pay dirt?

“If you say so.”

So here it is. Here’s my real New Year’s Resolution, and you better believe it’s related to the state of television.

In 2010, I resolve:

To call out the producers of TV shows who fail to deliver what they advertise.

Take heed, showrunners!

If you produce situation comedies that offer us neither situations (that could possibly occur) nor comedy (that is more intelligent than a knock knock joke), I’ll be there (yes, I’m talking to you, Parks and Recreation, Better Off Ted, and Two and a Half Men).

If you attempt to foist dramas upon us that are really just overblown melodramas, I’ll be there (maybe, I mean, let’s be honest here, I do try to focus on comedies, but you never know, I might branch out and lambaste a couple of dramas next year, I watch dramas).

If you give us a bad reality show… okay, now you got me. It’s highly unlikely that I’m going to write about reality TV, but I brought it up because I really like the rule of three, therefore, comedy, drama, reality… you see what I was trying to do.

So, to sum up, my point is this: I’ll be there! Make bad TV in 2010 — and I’ll be there. And regardless of any shortcomings that I might have exposed in today’s column (especially in the areas of coherency and focus), a lot of the time in 2010, I might just make some sense. In fact, I resolve it!

Happy Holidays

Well, we have almost reached the end of 2009 and all I have to say is, we made it! In September, the Heavy Hitters of Comedy successfully took the challenge of starting a business while the country was in the throes of the worst recession seen since the Great Depression. We created an online destination for comedy which is growing each and everyday. A place for everyone, professionals and fans alike. A place to find out about comedians and their events. A place to network with others in the comedy industry. A place for fans to network with other fans.

Our goals are huge and we look forward to the future. Personally, I can’t wait to show you what we have in store. For now, you will have to wait and see. Remember to check back often, as changes and additions are happening each day.

Have a safe and Happy New Year.

Roseanne

Hello, Heavy Hitters. Are you ready to be inspired?

Are you ready to grab 2010 by the cocoa pebbles? Are you ready to tackle the world with all the zest and enthusiasm you had before your string of failures and disappointments sucked the life out of you?

Do you even remember the “old you” that I’m talking about? Or do you need a photo album just to conjure up an image of that hopeful guy or girl that you were before you became a bitter, hollowed out shell of your former self?

Or, if you’re not unsuccessful, are you ready to move on from being a successful failure?

“A successful failure? What the hell is a successful failure?”

A successful failure is an artist who has failed to achieve ANY artistic greatness, but has nevertheless experienced inexplicable popularity and financial success. It may seem ridiculous to feel sorry for celebrities who wallow in self pity while driving a BMW or riding in the back of a limo, but I sense their pain.

I mean, do you really think that the members of The Wiggles really enjoy their riches the way Paul McCartney does? Do you think Melanie Griffith is as content as Meryl Streep? Do you think it’s even remotely possible that Pauly Shore doesn’t want to slit his wrists any time someone mentions Jury Duty?

Well, I say: Don’t do it, Pauly! You know what you did wrong. For God’s sake, you were raised at The Comedy Store. You were bred to know the difference between lifetime open mikers and Richard Pryor. What you need to do is go out there and make a movie that would make Sam Kinison proud (or his ghost, if you want to get technical). And if you can’t manage that, for the love of God, at least make something that’ll measure up to your own highest standards.

In fact, Heavy Hitters, it’s time that we all challenge ourselves to do our best.

“But Eric, people don’t like my best. They only watch crap. They only respond to dick jokes and set up, punch, set up, punch, set up, punch.”

Ahem. I hate to interrupt your whining, but have you ever heard of Vincent Van Gogh?

“Doesn’t he co-host a poker show or something?”

No, that’s Vince Van Patten. I’m talking about the artist, Vincent Van Gogh, a painter who practically reinvented the art of painting and whose work is now as valuable as any art on the planet.

“What about him?”

What about him? What about him? I’ll tell you what about him. Vincent Van Gogh invented a style of art that he believed in. He painted in a style that moved him. He painted in a style that spoke to him. And even though he sold only one painting in his entire life, suffered the indignity of living off his brother, and died a pauper, he never wavered in his art. He never bastardized his art by doing the oil based equivalent of set up, punch.

So I ask you, Heavy Hitters, are you ready to stick to your guns? Are you ready to rediscover the laughter? The REAL laughter? The laughter that really makes you laugh?

You can do it, my peeps. I have the recipe. And the best part is… all you have to do to find some inspiration is watch a little TV (and I know you lazy bastards can handle that).

Don’t forget that you have a chance to make a difference. You have a chance to make a unique contribution to your art form. And, as an unexpected bonus, you’ll even get to keep/save your soul.

“Impossible,” you say, “One can’t have success AND a soul.”

Way possible, I counter. It’s totally way possible.

The biggest sell-out among us has just received an opportunity to redeem himself, to set himself right, to return to his roots and make amends to America. That man… is Chuck Lorre.

“Chuck Lorre? Isn’t that the douche who created Two and a Half Men and Dharma and Greg?”

Yes it is.

“Maybe The Big Bang Theory isn’t the worst show on the air, but for the most part, that guy is ruining TV.”

I quite agree, but it has come to my attention that the King of Silly, the Master of Mediocrity, the Dharma of Dharma and Greg has just gotten the go ahead from CBS to do a new show called Mike and Molly.

Now, I don’t know anything about Mike and Molly, but if it’s like Two and a Half Men, The Big Bang Theory, and Dharma and Greg, I genuinely hope it gets canceled before it airs. I just can’t stomach the silliness of any more of these kinds of shows.

These kinds of shows are simply too sophomoric in tone and ridiculous in substance to merit the production of another one. The stories are as predictable as they are repetitive and the characters are, for the most part, narrow and dimwitted. Even the most charismatic actors (and Lorre does have an unbelievably talented stable of cast members) cannot redeem writing which is so intent on squeezing in a predictable lame joke every eight seconds that it sacrifices any semblance of reality.

Yes, The Big Bang Theory has likable characters, but I want you to acknowledge that as likable as they may be, they are thinly drawn stereotypes. The four scientists on the show draw us in because they are sympathetic characters (in that they are trying to do the right thing, especially for each other) but sooner or later, their social retardation will become too much to bear. It’s boring to watch a clown slip and fall on a banana peel over and over and over again. Eventually, we want to see the clown walk around the goddam banana peel and move on to a different adventure. Unfortunately, all the characters on the above mentioned shows are so rigidly and superficially drawn that they never get to move on. They just keep slipping on the same damn banana peel until it’s the viewers who are forced to move on.

“Wait a minute, Eric. I thought you said this column was meant to inspire us. All you’ve done is bad mouth Chuck Lorre.”

I’m glad you were paying attention, Heavy Hitters. Here’s my technique: before I build up, I tear down (a technique I learned either while I was in boot camp, or from some movie about boot camp). In any case, when I tear down, I tear down mercilessly and with extreme prejudice because I want to leave no doubt that there is a problem that needs to be fixed.

Now, here’s the twist.

Brace yourself, it’s going to feel like this is coming out of left field.

Are you ready? Here goes.

I’m a Chuck Lorre fan.

“Whaaaaaaaaat?”

You heard me right. I am a Chuck Lorre fan. Believe it or slurp it, two shows that he wrote for (one of which he created) are on my list of all time greats. Now I’m asking for Chuck Lorre to return to his former greatness and stop sacrificing real human characters for characters who are nothing more than gross exaggerations.

Yes, it’s easier to write for a gross exaggeration like Big Bang’s Sheldon or Two and Half Men’s Charlie than it is for a character who reasons like a person, but I’m asking you to stop taking the easy way out and challenge yourself… again.

I’m not asking you to reinvent yourself. I’m only asking that you do something you’ve done numerous times before (with spectacular success might I add).

I know you can do better, because once upon a time you wrote for Roseanne. ROSE freaking ANNE. You remember! The sitcom that was once the number one show in America. There was a reason so many people connected to that show. It was funny AND it felt real. And then you created Grace Under Fire! You had the recipe, brother. What the hell happened after that?

Now more than ever, I crave characters who face problems that real people face. I crave dialogue that is witty instead of dimwitty. I crave stories that on the surface might seem mundane but that are made poignant because they are told by characters who intuit that any situation is bearable if you react to it with a joke and a smile.

I’m not going cite examples from these shows, but rather challenge you, my precious readership, to watch a couple of episodes of Roseanne (from any but the final season when she hit the lottery and whole show devolved into a fantasy/fantastic mess) and then watch two episodes of Two and a Half Men or The Big Bang Theory.

Then try and tell me the writers on the latter shows haven’t abandoned any responsibility they should have feel to offer us characters who act like people. The characters and situations on Lorre’s current shows are as artificial as the laugh track they use to fool us into thinking they’re amusing.

We deserve better, Chuck Lorre. We deserve better. My question is whether or not you still possess the integrity, fortitude, and work ethic to give it to us. Do you, punk? Well, do you?

I know you do. Now how’s about you prove it to me.

As for the rest of you Heavy Hitters, I want you to think of your legacy when you’re doing your artistic thing next year. Unless you’re sitting on death row, you’re already leading a more comfortable life than Vincent Van Gogh. Now how’s about you go out there and earn it?