Gulp

My San Antonio debut as a standup comic has been pushed up to March 6.
I went out to a local coffee house last night to sit at the bar, observe the goings-on and write some material for the show.
Chris, an old friend, walked up so I paused to talk with him and his cute, female companion. I ended up doing about 10 minutes of pretty funny shtick, none of which I wrote down.
By then, the straight, black girlfriend I was meeting for coffee showed up, interested in having a deep, serious conversation about racism, relationships and spirituality.
After a glass of port, she shifted gears and went on to gleefully describe the merits of dating men with giant penises.
I got no material from that conversation, unless one considers the possibilities of commenting on every statement she made about the glory of big dicks with the word, "Eeuuwww."
I have 15 days to go.
Eeuuwww.

The Despicable GOP Faggots:
No Wonder They Say They Hate Queers

With the news about this phony reporter/gay hooker "Jim Gannon" infiltrating the White House Press Corps, I have to wonder where the public outrage is on this.
Bush, through his puppetmaster Karl Rove, so carefully crafted gay marriage as a hateful wedge issue, yet their entire administration seems to revolve around closeted gay men.
The head of the Republican National Committee is Ken Mehlman, who rivals exercise maven Richard Simmons in frequency for being outed.
Bush's hand-picked replacement as Texas Governor, Rick Perry, was said to be fucking our swishy male Secretary of State.
Now comes this creep Gannon, whose military-themed gay escort website(s) have been hastily removed. How'd he get press credentials, when New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, who specifically covers the Bush administration, was denied them?
In an era of "national security," can anyone explain how a fake reporter, using an alias, was given daily access to the White House?
Where did this fraud obtain the secret government documents about the Valerie Plame CIA leak he used when he interviewed her husband, the former Ambassador to Niger?
I could write miles about this, but AMERICAblog has covered it in exquisite detail.
Be sure to check his Gannon links on the left side of the page. It's not often you get to see a White House Press member lying on his back nude with a full erection, advertising for horny, submissive gay johns to hire him.
Look, I don't care if a gay guy wants to be a prostitute- but when it comes to the GOP stacking Bush's rare press conferences with some faggot whore on the downlow who lobs Bush softball questions and wastes valuable time doing it, that's enough.
Where are the Christian fundamentalists on this? Where is the outrage?

Holy shit!

Survivor Palau: The Definitive Guide

Tonight marks the premiere of Survivor Palau, where 20 new castaways have been dumped on a deserted island with no help of any kind.
This premiere is said to be so intense, three castaways will go home before this night is over. Wimps.
The castaways are given almost no instructions, some get lost, and two don't even make it past the first challenge.
Based on photos and scanty biographical details, here's my early take on the castaways:

Angie, 24, bartender, New Orleans: I bet on her to be the resident nutjob. Her many tattoos and goofy crooked bangs say lunatic to me. Aries. Yep, a lunatic all right.
Ashlee, 22, student, South Carolina: another token thin/youngSouthernBelle. Zzzzz. A Mormon Taurus. Zzzz...can you say Neleh?
Bobby Jon, 27, waiter, Alabama: From the photo, he could be gay or someone from Dukes of Hazzard central casting. Hard to tell with those Southern boys. Another Taurus.
Caryn, 46, attorney, Ohio: Well, she spells her name wrong, so we know she seeks attention. She's a lawyer, so we know she can argue. She's from Ohio- the state that brings us Crazy Tracy and Mike Zellers- but also the state that brought us four more years of Dubya. Hard to tell about her this early in the game. She's a Leo.
Coby, 32, hairstylist, Athens, Texas: Gotta be gay! He's a Virgo, which makes him even more gay.
Gregg, 28, consultant, Chicago: Wow, he's a handsome one. But what does he mean by consultant? That sounds to me like a made-up job. What can someone consult on at that tender age, skateboarding? Hmmm. I smell a playa.
A Capricorn playa.
Ian, 23, dolphin trainer, Florida: Whoa, like, this dude looks totally awesome in a sunshiny kinda way, man. I hope nobody harshes his mellow, dude. Another Virgo, making him possibly gay.
Ibrehem, 23, waiter, Birmingham, Alabama: A sweet faced, bald, young black guy. With a name like that, I fear he'll be quoting a lot of the gospel during hard times. Let's pray he doesn't. But he's a Pisces, so he might also be gay, or at the very least, on the downlow.
James, 33, steelworker, Mobile, Alabama: Big dumb butch, anyone? Bet he's a big NASCAR fan. He's a Cancer, so we can expect him to be horny, moody and have foot issues.
Janu, 39, Vegas Showgirl: Gulp. To still be a showgirl at that age, she's either tough as nails or has bad, bad foot pain. Don't know her sign but she's Cuban and likes to drink. She has big hair, so she might also be insane.
Jeff, 21, personal trainer, Ventura CA: Do all white men who do personal training have to look like Oprah's PT? He's an Aquarius, so that tells us nothing.
Jennifer, 32, nanny, Encino, CA: She's pretty and has a decent education. She's gonna be one to watch, I think. She's a Pisces- either sweet like a goldfish or mean like a barracuda. Or both.
Jolanda, 39, lawyer, Houston: Uh oh. A black Texas lawyer lady. Ker-ack that whip! Even her eyebrows say "ballbuster." Scorpio. Better watch your nutsacs, boys.
Jonathan, 23, sales and marketing, Dallas: Young and pretty, probably sells shirts and slacks at Neiman's. Lightweight? Probably. Just got over testicular cancer, Ouch. Another Virgo... he may be gay.
Katie, 29, advertising, Merced, CA: Perky blonde. Says she's funny. We'll see about that. Gemini. Uh oh.
Kimberly, 25, grad student, Ohio: Watch this one, I have a hunch she's gonna be tougher than she looks. She's an Aries-those chicks are fearless.
Stephenie, 25, pharmaceutical sales, Philly: Yes, she spells her name that way. She's Italian, she's hot and she's connected. Look out for this Sagittarius, she eats little men for breakfast.
Tom, 41, Brooklyn firefighter: Another NY fireman? We'll see how tough that makes him. Capricorn.
Wanda, 55, English teacher, Ulysses, PA: The token old battle-ax. I imagine Lil, without the boy scout uniform. Virgo makes her a particularly fussy fussbudget.
Willard, 57, Lawyer, Bellevue, WA: Token old geezer. He won't last, at his age, Sagittarius men aren't so active anymore.


With all that information, you simply must join this season's Pulp Friction Survivor Review committee. Are you in? Talk to me!

The Bush Auction

I read in the NY Times that Caroline Kennedy recently authorized Sotheby's to auction off assorted Kennedy memorabilia and bric-a-brac, bringing in $1.7 million, or almost double what they expected to make.
I wonder if the Bush twins will one day auction off items from their parents estate?
I can only imagine what might be on the auction block...

• Dubya's Hooked on Fonix book, monogrammed with presidential seal
• Original copy, Dubya's DUI police report(s)
• Crack pipe, with assorted Bush DNA on mouthpiece
• Riding crop, used by Barbara Bush on Bush 41
• Original outhouse from the Crawford "Ranch"
• Dubya's cowboy boots-rarely used
• Dubya's Sperry Topsider yachting loafers, well worn
• 4,000 cases of empty Jim Beam bottles
• Dubya's roach clip, monogrammed with Texas map
• Various glass vials containing cocaine residue
• Dubya's complete personal library:
The Children's Illustrated Bible
Politix for Dummies
Grow Your Own Hydroponic Pot
Assorted Cliff's Notes
• Sammy Sosa's baseball bat, autographed with the inscription, "See ya around, dumb ass"
• Laura Bush cigarette case with Texas logo, pink patent leather, with partial pack of Newports inside
• Laura Bush Bic lighter, pink with Texas logo
• Assorted liquor flasks, including small ones belonging to the twins as children
• Various pill bottles, with Noelle Bush's name on the RX
• Neil Bush's savings and loan memorabilia, including matchbooks with, "get burnt, save with us" under the logo
• Various shot glasses, coasters, swizzle sticks and cocktail shakers, circa the twins' high school days
• Dubya's Master's thesis notes, written on cocktail napkins
• Dubya's National Guard uniforms, unused, still sealed in original plastic wrap

I love Howard Dean.
I'm glad he's the new DNC chair.
I am surprised the Repugnicans didn't sponsor a GOP candidate, then rig the race so he'd win, those fucking fuckers.
Talk amongst yourselves.

Happy Valentine's Day

Love is patient.
Love is kind.
It does not envy.
It does not boast.
It is not proud.
It is not rude.
It is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered.
It keeps no record of wrongs.
Love always hopes.
Love never fails.

They should have let the Corinthians write the whole book.
Wishing love and happiness to all my readers today, in whatever form that takes.

Jeff Gannon: Bush's Fake Newsman

We probably all know by now about GOP plant Jeff Gannon posing as a journalist and being allowed to ask Bush softball questions, wasting valuable time at his rare White House press conferences.
I am so fucking sick of Bush and his chicken-shit, underhanded way of doing things, I don't have the stomach to write about this latest example of his reprehensible maneuvering.
John Aravosis over at America Blog has been covering the story beautifully.
Go read about it, it'll make your blood boil. The link's on the right.

You're Fired!

The new book 'Fire Your Boss'(Harper Collins 2004) offers the following checklist for spotting impending termination. Below that is my interpretation of the warning signs.

Theirs:
You are asked to compile a report on all your ongoing projects.
You are pushed hard to finish one or two specific projects.
You are encouraged not to do your usual long-term planning.
You're neither informed of nor invited to meetings.
You receive a critical review for the first time.
Your expense reports are questioned.
Your typical expenditures are criticized.
Your direct superior keeps his or her distance from you.
Conversation stops when you enter a room.
You have a vague sense of unease.

Mine:
Your office has become a storage room for mops, brooms and restroom supplies.
You're asked to write a help wanted ad for your job description.
You find your pen chained to the desk.
Your desk calendar is suddenly missing all the pages after February.
Your computer is replaced with a Smith Corona manual typewriter and a used bottle of WiteOut.
The Muzak in your office keeps playing an instrumental version of, "Hit the Road, Jack."
You send your boss a memo and it comes back stamped, "WHATEVER."
Your office chair is replaced with an upside down 5-gallon plastic pickle bucket.
Your boss chuckles when you talk about your summer vacation plans.
Your office enemy brings you warm breakfast tacos on a Thursday morning.

I think it should be illegal to use the word soupçon in the United States.