Fairly recently, I had come to the conclusion that I had wasted a lot of my life.
This was a firm realization, as in this was indeed a true statement, but it also didn't bother me all that much. Regret and guilt and emotions I try to avoid, in continuing to be a more honest, altruistic kind of fellah.
So that's all well and good, and I've been working steadily towards future goals. I still have the regular Coaster's Comedy nights, and I have plans for a couple of shows in the near future.
My big project is a fringe show I'll be touring next summer, hopefully to Winnipeg, Edmonton and Saskatoon. I'm just waiting to hear from the first two.
So while I'm busy working on this, and continually developing more material, I keep on reminding myself that fairly soon, I'll be leaving the Yukon.
I had a great conversation with a friend last summer about living here. We've both been here about ten years, and we've come to the same conclusions.
The Yukon is not unlike a womb. It's a very safe place to be, and there's a freedom here to do practically anything you want to. It's very difficult to fail in any endevour here, but there seems to be cap on how far you can go. This is a very insular place, which lends to the general feeling of safety, but closes off a lot of growth.
Basically, we both realized that we had gotten just about everything we needed from here. It was a particualrily long lesson, but now that we're done learning - it's time to move on. I'm sure there's more I could gain from living here, but not as much as if I went - Outside.
Outside - it's a bizzare term. People use it proudly to show how insulated they are from the rest of Canada. It would make sense if the Yukon were truly a unique place, but it's capital has become frighteningly homogenized.
So now I wait.
This summer will be a chance to explore other areas in Canada, places where Erica (my fiancee, partner,etc.) and I might move to. So at least while I wait, I can build some excitement. And do some fun things here before I go.
This life is all I have, I plan on enjoying it.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
This is the end...
Of Laughter on the 23rd Floor.
This show has been a great experience for me. It was one that I fully enjoyed the rehearsal process, mainly due to our director Stephen Drover, but also to the cast (and the fact that my fiancee Erica was in the show). The play has been a treat to perform, and I've fully enjoyed my role.
It's nice that I'll actually miss doing the show. That hasn't happened in a while.
It's nice.
This show has been a great experience for me. It was one that I fully enjoyed the rehearsal process, mainly due to our director Stephen Drover, but also to the cast (and the fact that my fiancee Erica was in the show). The play has been a treat to perform, and I've fully enjoyed my role.
It's nice that I'll actually miss doing the show. That hasn't happened in a while.
It's nice.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Mulling, not unlike cider.
I sure do write a lot.
I'm not boasting, I just feel the need to state that fact. Mostly because I'm losing track of what I've been writing. With the Coaster's now every two weeks, that thankfully gives me some leeway - but I've still found some difficulty in writing new material.
I've been cranking it out, but I still don't have time to really refine much. In fact, I haven't had time to refine anything - which means my stand-up material has to be great on the first shot. But for it to be great, it needs to be refined. Eeeeeesh.
I've been doing this long enough that I know enough tricks to get the audience on my side, whether or not they're laughing. I have to remind myself of this fairly often, as repeating material has become a no-no. Partly audience fatigue, and partly some weird challenge I've set on myself.
The comedy scene in Whitehorse has to manage a ridiculous balancing act. We need to maintain a pretty high level of laughs for the audience, on a regular basis, or we will be quickly dismissed. Once we lose an audience member - they generally don't come back. I try not to let it affect me too much, but no other part of the Arts scene has to deal with this.
I've been to Whitewater Wednesdays, a local jam session for musicians to get up and play whatever they like. And I've seen a lot of crap music there, but the audience at least fakes support.
I've bitched about this so many times to myself - I'm like a broken record - a broken Yes albulm no less.
Don't get me wrong, I've come to udnerstand why our audiences are so mercurial. A lot of the time I don't blame them. At our comedy open mics, quite often people were treated to over 20 minutes of floundering. It's painful to watch. Sympathy can only go so far. Anyone on stage should be able to realize that if after a loooooong space of dead air - it might be time to pack in your stage time.
I've seen members of our wee roster do the same material over and over again. While I understand some people may have not heard some of it, repeating the same bits for over two years...that'll lose flavour with a lot of folks.
But really, what the fuck do I know? I'm not a professional in the sense that I make a living out of comedy. Am I funny? Yes. Am I a leader. Fuck no.
I've had enough experience performing in improv, sketches and stand-up that I know I'm a good comedian. But that sure as hell doesn't make me feel comfortable judging other people's material. Especially as we all come from different senses of humour.
And there's always an audience for something - no matter how small.
And small is what we're dealing with - Whitehorse is a small town.
We're still soldering on though. We've built a comedy scene, and it seems to be growing.
I've always known that no matter how funny you may be, there's always someone funnier out there. And there has been some complancency with some of the comics. Some weird, "Well no one else is doing it", kind of sentiment that brings a ridiculous arrogance and laziness.
Already, we've have four new performers to the open mics who have material that is on par with what us regulars are doing, and even surpassing some. That's certainly given me more of a drive, mostly from excitement that there are other people interested in keeping a comedy scene alive.
And this will also pull in the audience, as they'll get to see new faces, new material, new angles.
It's the shot in the arm we've been waiting for.
Who knows, I'm just talking out loud here. And writing a lot.
I'm not boasting, I just feel the need to state that fact. Mostly because I'm losing track of what I've been writing. With the Coaster's now every two weeks, that thankfully gives me some leeway - but I've still found some difficulty in writing new material.
I've been cranking it out, but I still don't have time to really refine much. In fact, I haven't had time to refine anything - which means my stand-up material has to be great on the first shot. But for it to be great, it needs to be refined. Eeeeeesh.
I've been doing this long enough that I know enough tricks to get the audience on my side, whether or not they're laughing. I have to remind myself of this fairly often, as repeating material has become a no-no. Partly audience fatigue, and partly some weird challenge I've set on myself.
The comedy scene in Whitehorse has to manage a ridiculous balancing act. We need to maintain a pretty high level of laughs for the audience, on a regular basis, or we will be quickly dismissed. Once we lose an audience member - they generally don't come back. I try not to let it affect me too much, but no other part of the Arts scene has to deal with this.
I've been to Whitewater Wednesdays, a local jam session for musicians to get up and play whatever they like. And I've seen a lot of crap music there, but the audience at least fakes support.
I've bitched about this so many times to myself - I'm like a broken record - a broken Yes albulm no less.
Don't get me wrong, I've come to udnerstand why our audiences are so mercurial. A lot of the time I don't blame them. At our comedy open mics, quite often people were treated to over 20 minutes of floundering. It's painful to watch. Sympathy can only go so far. Anyone on stage should be able to realize that if after a loooooong space of dead air - it might be time to pack in your stage time.
I've seen members of our wee roster do the same material over and over again. While I understand some people may have not heard some of it, repeating the same bits for over two years...that'll lose flavour with a lot of folks.
But really, what the fuck do I know? I'm not a professional in the sense that I make a living out of comedy. Am I funny? Yes. Am I a leader. Fuck no.
I've had enough experience performing in improv, sketches and stand-up that I know I'm a good comedian. But that sure as hell doesn't make me feel comfortable judging other people's material. Especially as we all come from different senses of humour.
And there's always an audience for something - no matter how small.
And small is what we're dealing with - Whitehorse is a small town.
We're still soldering on though. We've built a comedy scene, and it seems to be growing.
I've always known that no matter how funny you may be, there's always someone funnier out there. And there has been some complancency with some of the comics. Some weird, "Well no one else is doing it", kind of sentiment that brings a ridiculous arrogance and laziness.
Already, we've have four new performers to the open mics who have material that is on par with what us regulars are doing, and even surpassing some. That's certainly given me more of a drive, mostly from excitement that there are other people interested in keeping a comedy scene alive.
And this will also pull in the audience, as they'll get to see new faces, new material, new angles.
It's the shot in the arm we've been waiting for.
Who knows, I'm just talking out loud here. And writing a lot.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Sketch: Six Quick Sketches
These are meant to be presented one after the other in quick succession.
Six Quick sketches
1. The meeting
(Two mobsters are sitting down at a table. One has his back to the audience, while the other, the “Boss”, is staring intently at the other.)
Boss: This is an unfortunate time in our House. I’ve been looking at the books Johnny. And they tell me story, I don’t think I wanted to hear. Can you imagine my surprise when I discovered what you were doing with the business Johnny? Can you imagine what I felt? Do you know what it’s like to be stabbed in the back Johnny? It certainly isn’t pleasant. Johnny, you are family, and I love you – You always remembered every special occaision – Even when –
(suddenly a waiter comes in clapping a steady rhythm)
Waiter: (singing while clapping)
Hey! Oh – I heard a little bird, and it whispered in my ear,
That some little guy has aged another year,
Well we looked to the north,
And we looked to the south,
And we found the Birthday Boy sitting right here!
(The waiter continues (improv) to sing, dance and clap around the Boss who fumes silently. The waiter puts a party hat on his head, finishes the song, and strolls out. There is silence for a long moment.)
Boss: You had to come to the fucking Olive Garden didn’t you?
2. The bench
(Two old men are silently sitting on a bench, staring off into the distance. After a long pause one slowly turns to the other.)
Old Man: Do you think we’re still relevant?
3. Science mini
(Two guys are sitting on a “couch”, looking absolutely bored. A man in a lab coat suddenly appears.)
Man in coat: Is this how you spend your weekends?
Guys: SIGH
Man in coat: I spent years of study to come up with my formula for fun success.
(He pulls out a bag of Doritos and a bag of weed, then throws it to the guys.)
Guys: Yaaaaaaay!
Man in coat: My name is Chet Rankin – I’m a party scientist.
4. Doctor
(A man is sitting in a chair looking nervous, while a doctor goes through charts.)
Doctor: Well, I’m afraid I have some very bad news.
Man: Oh no, Doctor, am I going to be okay?
Doctor: Well son, I need you to be brave for me.
Man: Okay.
Doctor: Can you be brave for me?
Man: Yes, please tell me.
Doctor: (stifling giggles) Well, it seems (snicker) you have….Butt cancer!
Man: Oh no! This is horrible, Butt Cancer!!
(The doctor is laughing hard now.)
Man: Hey, wait a sec, there’s no such thing as butt cancer!
Doctor: Ha! I got you!
Man: Oh doctor! You’re so wacky!
Doctor: I know, hahahahahahahaha.
(Both start laughing for a little while.)
Doctor: Ahhh, yes. Actually you have Lou Gherig’s.
(The man stops laughing and looks stunned.)
Doctor: Butt Cancer – Ha!
5. Newsboy
(2 men are sitting on a park bench, minding each others business. A 1930’s newsboy walks on and starts hawking his papers.)
Newsboy: X-tree! X-tree! Read all about it! The guy over there on the park bench is a complete asshole, treats other people like shit, is a complete mysoginist, hates foreigners, owns Nazi memorabilia, and never washes his hands after he urinates – from his incredible small penis! Read all about it!
(One man has been listening intently and is completely horrified.)
Man: This is a complete outrage! How dare you say such terrible things! You have no idea who I am, how dare you! HOW DARE YOU! Give me one of those.
(The boy throws him one and runs away.)
Man: (as he opens the paper and reads) Why I ought to call the police. I should call the police and register a complaint! This is horrible! This is utter slander! This is – (suddenly noticing) Oh.
(He passes the paper to the person next to him.)
Man: This is about you. (pause) Asshole.
6. Boxy
(Jesus wanders onto the stage, talking to others in the wings.)
Jesus: I’ll be right back guys, I just need to commune with my Allmighty Father to perform the next miracle. Then it’s party time!
(Jesus takes a nervous look around, before reaching under his robes and pulling out a box of wine. He goes and starts pouring it into glasses. Suddenly, another man walks in.)
Judas: Dude, what’s taking so lo-
Jesus (trying desperately to hide the evidence): Hey Judas! Buddy! What are you doing back here? I’m communing with God and I –
Judas: (disapproving) Dude…
Six Quick sketches
1. The meeting
(Two mobsters are sitting down at a table. One has his back to the audience, while the other, the “Boss”, is staring intently at the other.)
Boss: This is an unfortunate time in our House. I’ve been looking at the books Johnny. And they tell me story, I don’t think I wanted to hear. Can you imagine my surprise when I discovered what you were doing with the business Johnny? Can you imagine what I felt? Do you know what it’s like to be stabbed in the back Johnny? It certainly isn’t pleasant. Johnny, you are family, and I love you – You always remembered every special occaision – Even when –
(suddenly a waiter comes in clapping a steady rhythm)
Waiter: (singing while clapping)
Hey! Oh – I heard a little bird, and it whispered in my ear,
That some little guy has aged another year,
Well we looked to the north,
And we looked to the south,
And we found the Birthday Boy sitting right here!
(The waiter continues (improv) to sing, dance and clap around the Boss who fumes silently. The waiter puts a party hat on his head, finishes the song, and strolls out. There is silence for a long moment.)
Boss: You had to come to the fucking Olive Garden didn’t you?
2. The bench
(Two old men are silently sitting on a bench, staring off into the distance. After a long pause one slowly turns to the other.)
Old Man: Do you think we’re still relevant?
3. Science mini
(Two guys are sitting on a “couch”, looking absolutely bored. A man in a lab coat suddenly appears.)
Man in coat: Is this how you spend your weekends?
Guys: SIGH
Man in coat: I spent years of study to come up with my formula for fun success.
(He pulls out a bag of Doritos and a bag of weed, then throws it to the guys.)
Guys: Yaaaaaaay!
Man in coat: My name is Chet Rankin – I’m a party scientist.
4. Doctor
(A man is sitting in a chair looking nervous, while a doctor goes through charts.)
Doctor: Well, I’m afraid I have some very bad news.
Man: Oh no, Doctor, am I going to be okay?
Doctor: Well son, I need you to be brave for me.
Man: Okay.
Doctor: Can you be brave for me?
Man: Yes, please tell me.
Doctor: (stifling giggles) Well, it seems (snicker) you have….Butt cancer!
Man: Oh no! This is horrible, Butt Cancer!!
(The doctor is laughing hard now.)
Man: Hey, wait a sec, there’s no such thing as butt cancer!
Doctor: Ha! I got you!
Man: Oh doctor! You’re so wacky!
Doctor: I know, hahahahahahahaha.
(Both start laughing for a little while.)
Doctor: Ahhh, yes. Actually you have Lou Gherig’s.
(The man stops laughing and looks stunned.)
Doctor: Butt Cancer – Ha!
5. Newsboy
(2 men are sitting on a park bench, minding each others business. A 1930’s newsboy walks on and starts hawking his papers.)
Newsboy: X-tree! X-tree! Read all about it! The guy over there on the park bench is a complete asshole, treats other people like shit, is a complete mysoginist, hates foreigners, owns Nazi memorabilia, and never washes his hands after he urinates – from his incredible small penis! Read all about it!
(One man has been listening intently and is completely horrified.)
Man: This is a complete outrage! How dare you say such terrible things! You have no idea who I am, how dare you! HOW DARE YOU! Give me one of those.
(The boy throws him one and runs away.)
Man: (as he opens the paper and reads) Why I ought to call the police. I should call the police and register a complaint! This is horrible! This is utter slander! This is – (suddenly noticing) Oh.
(He passes the paper to the person next to him.)
Man: This is about you. (pause) Asshole.
6. Boxy
(Jesus wanders onto the stage, talking to others in the wings.)
Jesus: I’ll be right back guys, I just need to commune with my Allmighty Father to perform the next miracle. Then it’s party time!
(Jesus takes a nervous look around, before reaching under his robes and pulling out a box of wine. He goes and starts pouring it into glasses. Suddenly, another man walks in.)
Judas: Dude, what’s taking so lo-
Jesus (trying desperately to hide the evidence): Hey Judas! Buddy! What are you doing back here? I’m communing with God and I –
Judas: (disapproving) Dude…
What's Up Column: Pseudo-science Jackpot
There are potential millionaires among us.
And I’m not speaking of the huddled masses elbowing each other to get to the 6/49 ticket window. I’m speaking of folks who may lay claim to possessing paranormal or psychic powers.
Now, I’m almost positive there are folks who have a deck of pretty coloured cards in a drawer somewhere, perhaps even a dusty Ouija board (right underneath Scattergories) in a closet. This naturally leads me to believe that some of these people who do own these esoteric items, might claim to be able to efficiently use them.
I’ve also personally seen the energy manipulation known as Reiki in action. Think of it as a modern laying on hands.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking any holistic arts, cause hey, who wouldn’t want a gentle aura stroke now and then. I’m just saying that I happen to know there are a lot of people in the Yukon who work and play in outside of the ordinary areas.
I’m also saying there’s a big cash prize out there waiting for those practitioners of the pseudo-science.
The James Randi Educational Foundation wants you to put money where your mantra is!
James Randi is a personal hero of mine. He was an accomplished illusionist who decided to use his legerdemain skills for a nobler purpose. Randi became a specialist (of sorts) in debunking people who claimed to have psychic powers.
One of my favourite Randi moments was on the Johnny Carson show. Johnny’s special guest that evening was Uri Geller. Uri Geller earned his celebrity striped most notably for his psychokinetic skills.
He bent spoons – with his mind. (Everybody needs a gimmick right?)
Geller was to appear on the show and do a few demonstrations of his incredible powers. Carson, a bit of a skeptic and amateur magician, consulted with Randi on how he should handle Geller’s appearance on his show. Randi’s only advice was to make sure all the tools that Geller would use for his demonstration be props that Carson’s people had selected, and to not let Geller’s people any where near the items. Perhaps not so shockingly, Geller told Carson he couldn’t perform, because he didn’t feel strong enough.
The whole thing is on YouTube.
Now, again, let me say I’m not trying to make light of anyone’s paranormal abilities. Whether they exist or not isn’t my point.
My point is that if you can prove they exist to the James Randi Educational Foundation, they’ll give you a million dollars.
Seriously.
The million dollar challenge has been around for a good while. And the rules for the challenge are fairly straightforward.
James Randi, through the JREF, will pay One Million Dollars (US even!) to any person who can demonstrate any psychic, supernatural or paranormal ability under satisfactory observing conditions.
These tests are designed through a third party, and are to be self-evident. As in, if you claim you can levitate – dust the ceiling fan while you’re up there.
Randi even allows you to negotiate not just what powers will be demonstrated, but also the limits of the demonstration and what will constitute a positive or negative result.
Sure doesn’t get more straightforward than that does it?
Well, the challenge hasn’t gone unanswered, but so far no one is a million dollars richer. Feel free to browse the applicant forums on the JREF website. It’s a morass of hilarity from people who claim to talk to the dead or others who engage in weather manipulation.
So Yukon, with all your dabblers in the mystic and arcane, who will step up to the challenge? The forms are on-line and the cheque is in the mail.
And I’m not speaking of the huddled masses elbowing each other to get to the 6/49 ticket window. I’m speaking of folks who may lay claim to possessing paranormal or psychic powers.
Now, I’m almost positive there are folks who have a deck of pretty coloured cards in a drawer somewhere, perhaps even a dusty Ouija board (right underneath Scattergories) in a closet. This naturally leads me to believe that some of these people who do own these esoteric items, might claim to be able to efficiently use them.
I’ve also personally seen the energy manipulation known as Reiki in action. Think of it as a modern laying on hands.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking any holistic arts, cause hey, who wouldn’t want a gentle aura stroke now and then. I’m just saying that I happen to know there are a lot of people in the Yukon who work and play in outside of the ordinary areas.
I’m also saying there’s a big cash prize out there waiting for those practitioners of the pseudo-science.
The James Randi Educational Foundation wants you to put money where your mantra is!
James Randi is a personal hero of mine. He was an accomplished illusionist who decided to use his legerdemain skills for a nobler purpose. Randi became a specialist (of sorts) in debunking people who claimed to have psychic powers.
One of my favourite Randi moments was on the Johnny Carson show. Johnny’s special guest that evening was Uri Geller. Uri Geller earned his celebrity striped most notably for his psychokinetic skills.
He bent spoons – with his mind. (Everybody needs a gimmick right?)
Geller was to appear on the show and do a few demonstrations of his incredible powers. Carson, a bit of a skeptic and amateur magician, consulted with Randi on how he should handle Geller’s appearance on his show. Randi’s only advice was to make sure all the tools that Geller would use for his demonstration be props that Carson’s people had selected, and to not let Geller’s people any where near the items. Perhaps not so shockingly, Geller told Carson he couldn’t perform, because he didn’t feel strong enough.
The whole thing is on YouTube.
Now, again, let me say I’m not trying to make light of anyone’s paranormal abilities. Whether they exist or not isn’t my point.
My point is that if you can prove they exist to the James Randi Educational Foundation, they’ll give you a million dollars.
Seriously.
The million dollar challenge has been around for a good while. And the rules for the challenge are fairly straightforward.
James Randi, through the JREF, will pay One Million Dollars (US even!) to any person who can demonstrate any psychic, supernatural or paranormal ability under satisfactory observing conditions.
These tests are designed through a third party, and are to be self-evident. As in, if you claim you can levitate – dust the ceiling fan while you’re up there.
Randi even allows you to negotiate not just what powers will be demonstrated, but also the limits of the demonstration and what will constitute a positive or negative result.
Sure doesn’t get more straightforward than that does it?
Well, the challenge hasn’t gone unanswered, but so far no one is a million dollars richer. Feel free to browse the applicant forums on the JREF website. It’s a morass of hilarity from people who claim to talk to the dead or others who engage in weather manipulation.
So Yukon, with all your dabblers in the mystic and arcane, who will step up to the challenge? The forms are on-line and the cheque is in the mail.
What's Up Column: Gay Model
My name is Anthony, and I’m a gay model.
I tell you, there’s nothing like an opening statement that would likely send the Italian side of my family into apoplectic fits. Allow me to explain.
Stephen Dunbar, a good friend of mine (since the song and dance extravaganza known as Hair), owns and operates Yukon Pride Adventure Tours. The company specializes in offering unique tour packages, throughout the Yukon, to the gay and lesbian market.
In almost every aspect of modern marketing, a slick website can make a major difference. Yukon Pride’s website has all the hallmarks of a good website. It’s colourful, easily navigable and features professional quality pictures of (seemingly) gay and lesbian couples.
I throw in the seemingly, as some of the models aren’t gay (or couples for that matter).
Looking to make an update on his website, Stephen put out a call for models, using a rather unique lure.
Anyone not living under a rock (though there’s nothing wrong with that if you do) has likely heard of The White Stripes and their interesting decision to play shows in every province and territory in Canada. Tickets were sold out here in twelve minutes, and Stephen was one of those few who camped out successfully.
These tickets were then offered to any male willing to participate in a photo shoot, posing as gay couples.
I had two reasons to offer my reasonable looking features. Firstly, I’d gladly take any opportunity to help a friend and secondly, whereas I would rather fold laundry than go see The White Stripes, my sweetheart Erica is of a different mind.
So, with a meager (metrosexual I ain’t) selection of clothing I went off to pretend I was gay.
I arrived to discover the fellow I was going to be paired up with couldn’t make it. Geez, I was gay for about 5 minutes, and already I was being stood up. My career as a model wasn’t off to an auspicious start.
Out of twelve applicants, there would be five of us participating in the shoot. Stephen only had four tickets, but in typical Yukon gregariousness, one of the models was there just to support Stephen and his groundbreaking business.
I wasn’t exactly sure how I would do pretending to be gay man. I’ve certainly had enough experience on the stage, performing various parts, but this would be wholly different. How one looks certainly doesn’t dictate one’s sexual orientation, but we’re talking about my mug as a promotional tool.
I started asking myself what I realize now is a pointless question. Can I look “gay”?
I must honestly say I had absolutely no qualms about participating in the shoot, posing as a gay man. I’ve always been perfectly comfortable in my sexuality. Though that isn’t to say that I don’t have my own particular hang-ups.
Pretending to be a couple involves faking a certain intimacy, so a believable closeness can be conveyed in the pictures. I’m generally an introverted sort of guy, and I’d be uncomfortable even if paired with a female model. My personal space force field is generally on “high”. I’m not much of a hugger, alright? I’ll take ‘em, sure, I just don’t usually offer.
So, I wasn’t anxious about being held by a man, just mainly the being “held” part.
We were all introduced to each other, and we played some quick trust games, to build a comfort zone with each other.
It became quite the fascinating social experiment on Stephen’s part; to have these completely straight men come together to promote the Yukon as a destination. The more we worked together, the more comfortable we became with each other.
Aiding us was a perceptible (however small) air of glamour, as Stephen treated everyone professionally, as we moved from location to location.
Perusing through the final product of the day, showed some pretty amazing results.
In many of the pictures, two completely straight men, are able to convey images of intimacy and closeness. You would look at these pictures and could honestly believe that these men were couples.
I think that a lot of boundaries were healthily pushed, and some broken. I heartily applaud my fellow models, for taking a brave step, regardless of the White Stripes coercion.
Intolerance of people’s sexuality is a ridiculous notion to hold. (Regardless of which side of the Bible you tuck under your pillow.) Bigotry in any shape or form makes absolutely no sense in this modern age. Just to know that there are more people, who agree with me, is very comforting.
Also, its kind of fun that my sweetie, Erica, gets to go see a once-in-the-Yukon’s-lifetime show. Go for yourself and see the lines of (perceived) sexuality blurred at yukonpride.ca
I tell you, there’s nothing like an opening statement that would likely send the Italian side of my family into apoplectic fits. Allow me to explain.
Stephen Dunbar, a good friend of mine (since the song and dance extravaganza known as Hair), owns and operates Yukon Pride Adventure Tours. The company specializes in offering unique tour packages, throughout the Yukon, to the gay and lesbian market.
In almost every aspect of modern marketing, a slick website can make a major difference. Yukon Pride’s website has all the hallmarks of a good website. It’s colourful, easily navigable and features professional quality pictures of (seemingly) gay and lesbian couples.
I throw in the seemingly, as some of the models aren’t gay (or couples for that matter).
Looking to make an update on his website, Stephen put out a call for models, using a rather unique lure.
Anyone not living under a rock (though there’s nothing wrong with that if you do) has likely heard of The White Stripes and their interesting decision to play shows in every province and territory in Canada. Tickets were sold out here in twelve minutes, and Stephen was one of those few who camped out successfully.
These tickets were then offered to any male willing to participate in a photo shoot, posing as gay couples.
I had two reasons to offer my reasonable looking features. Firstly, I’d gladly take any opportunity to help a friend and secondly, whereas I would rather fold laundry than go see The White Stripes, my sweetheart Erica is of a different mind.
So, with a meager (metrosexual I ain’t) selection of clothing I went off to pretend I was gay.
I arrived to discover the fellow I was going to be paired up with couldn’t make it. Geez, I was gay for about 5 minutes, and already I was being stood up. My career as a model wasn’t off to an auspicious start.
Out of twelve applicants, there would be five of us participating in the shoot. Stephen only had four tickets, but in typical Yukon gregariousness, one of the models was there just to support Stephen and his groundbreaking business.
I wasn’t exactly sure how I would do pretending to be gay man. I’ve certainly had enough experience on the stage, performing various parts, but this would be wholly different. How one looks certainly doesn’t dictate one’s sexual orientation, but we’re talking about my mug as a promotional tool.
I started asking myself what I realize now is a pointless question. Can I look “gay”?
I must honestly say I had absolutely no qualms about participating in the shoot, posing as a gay man. I’ve always been perfectly comfortable in my sexuality. Though that isn’t to say that I don’t have my own particular hang-ups.
Pretending to be a couple involves faking a certain intimacy, so a believable closeness can be conveyed in the pictures. I’m generally an introverted sort of guy, and I’d be uncomfortable even if paired with a female model. My personal space force field is generally on “high”. I’m not much of a hugger, alright? I’ll take ‘em, sure, I just don’t usually offer.
So, I wasn’t anxious about being held by a man, just mainly the being “held” part.
We were all introduced to each other, and we played some quick trust games, to build a comfort zone with each other.
It became quite the fascinating social experiment on Stephen’s part; to have these completely straight men come together to promote the Yukon as a destination. The more we worked together, the more comfortable we became with each other.
Aiding us was a perceptible (however small) air of glamour, as Stephen treated everyone professionally, as we moved from location to location.
Perusing through the final product of the day, showed some pretty amazing results.
In many of the pictures, two completely straight men, are able to convey images of intimacy and closeness. You would look at these pictures and could honestly believe that these men were couples.
I think that a lot of boundaries were healthily pushed, and some broken. I heartily applaud my fellow models, for taking a brave step, regardless of the White Stripes coercion.
Intolerance of people’s sexuality is a ridiculous notion to hold. (Regardless of which side of the Bible you tuck under your pillow.) Bigotry in any shape or form makes absolutely no sense in this modern age. Just to know that there are more people, who agree with me, is very comforting.
Also, its kind of fun that my sweetie, Erica, gets to go see a once-in-the-Yukon’s-lifetime show. Go for yourself and see the lines of (perceived) sexuality blurred at yukonpride.ca
What's Up Column: Mortality
There are obvious times when one begins to question their mortality.
Any impending doom for certain, but there are those lazy times when one might make an attempt to tally up their life story. I consider flying to be at least an extremely slight brush against death. (Namely when the turbulence hits.)
With no real imminent threat, my thoughts usually take me to mundane places – such as spacing out in the shower or the particular crunch of my Mini-Wheats that morning. (Brown sugar frosting, in case you’re asking.)
Seems kinda dull doesn’t it?
If we could get an advance warning of when our demise would come, would we strive to engage in more exciting activities? Or, if your life is flashing before your eyes, one would hope it would be interesting. If it is indeed true that our awareness of time stretches at the moment of our passing, you don’t want to thinking: “Geez, can I skip some of this?”
Certainly a lot of people believe that no matter how mundane their lives are, there’s a chance at some reward in the afterlife. That’s all well and good for religious folks, but what about those of us who don’t believe in God? (Or whatever your cosmic equivalent may be)
(And jeepers, no, I’m not going to get into my brand of atheism, not now anyway.)
If one doesn’t believe in an afterlife, than your final moment of conscious thought should have quite a high value. After all, not believing in an afterlife means one now has to contemplate the alternative.
So, how do you think about nothing?
It would seem to be impossible to imagine non-existence. You can’t quantify not being. Though, once you go, you won’t have anything to complain about. Oblivion is a pretty final thing, and calling it “the long sleep” doesn’t make it more comforting.
Still, the popular notions of passing beyond don’t interest me in the least. I have no interest in organized religion, and the thought of my essence spending the rest of its time opening and closing cupboard doors sounds pretty laughable.
(Seriously, don’t ghosts have anything better to do?)
I’m not saying oblivion is necessarily preferable, but when the end comes and there’s no light at the end of tunnel – my thoughts about it will be pretty moot.
I’m only disappointed that I’ve been thinking these thoughts later in my life. Turning 30 was a high point in my life, and I’ve been having the best years of my life so far. A lot of this is due to the work I’ve put in to trying to be more hyper-aware of my life. I’ve exercised my free will into creating an interesting life for myself, and all it took was an acknowledgement that it isn’t all that hard to do so.
So, there I was, on my flight to Vancouver, staring at the endless, mountainous landscape – lazily tallying up my life so far.
If a short flight and some easy philosophizing on the inevitable end of being is a great catalyst for change, then why aren’t more people doing so?
One can never say whether they’re going to leave this world in a gentle way, but at least, not matter what flavour of afterlife you choose to believe in, you can make steps to get out satisfied.
Any impending doom for certain, but there are those lazy times when one might make an attempt to tally up their life story. I consider flying to be at least an extremely slight brush against death. (Namely when the turbulence hits.)
With no real imminent threat, my thoughts usually take me to mundane places – such as spacing out in the shower or the particular crunch of my Mini-Wheats that morning. (Brown sugar frosting, in case you’re asking.)
Seems kinda dull doesn’t it?
If we could get an advance warning of when our demise would come, would we strive to engage in more exciting activities? Or, if your life is flashing before your eyes, one would hope it would be interesting. If it is indeed true that our awareness of time stretches at the moment of our passing, you don’t want to thinking: “Geez, can I skip some of this?”
Certainly a lot of people believe that no matter how mundane their lives are, there’s a chance at some reward in the afterlife. That’s all well and good for religious folks, but what about those of us who don’t believe in God? (Or whatever your cosmic equivalent may be)
(And jeepers, no, I’m not going to get into my brand of atheism, not now anyway.)
If one doesn’t believe in an afterlife, than your final moment of conscious thought should have quite a high value. After all, not believing in an afterlife means one now has to contemplate the alternative.
So, how do you think about nothing?
It would seem to be impossible to imagine non-existence. You can’t quantify not being. Though, once you go, you won’t have anything to complain about. Oblivion is a pretty final thing, and calling it “the long sleep” doesn’t make it more comforting.
Still, the popular notions of passing beyond don’t interest me in the least. I have no interest in organized religion, and the thought of my essence spending the rest of its time opening and closing cupboard doors sounds pretty laughable.
(Seriously, don’t ghosts have anything better to do?)
I’m not saying oblivion is necessarily preferable, but when the end comes and there’s no light at the end of tunnel – my thoughts about it will be pretty moot.
I’m only disappointed that I’ve been thinking these thoughts later in my life. Turning 30 was a high point in my life, and I’ve been having the best years of my life so far. A lot of this is due to the work I’ve put in to trying to be more hyper-aware of my life. I’ve exercised my free will into creating an interesting life for myself, and all it took was an acknowledgement that it isn’t all that hard to do so.
So, there I was, on my flight to Vancouver, staring at the endless, mountainous landscape – lazily tallying up my life so far.
If a short flight and some easy philosophizing on the inevitable end of being is a great catalyst for change, then why aren’t more people doing so?
One can never say whether they’re going to leave this world in a gentle way, but at least, not matter what flavour of afterlife you choose to believe in, you can make steps to get out satisfied.
Sketch: Mervyn Heimlish
“There are hundreds of stories like this one, so I really don’t see what’s so special about this. I mean, you could down the street and probably find something more interesting – a paper bag floating in the wind or that dancing guy in the subway…”
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
“My name is Mervyn Heimlish. I’m a PI. My mother always told me never to abbreviate anything, it was a sign of laziness. I had two sets of business cards made – so she could have the ones that also included my full name and my grade 8 picture – the one where she’s standing behind me.”
“I went early to the office – I had to make sure I was awake before 5am – Mother is always up at 6 – I swear they could clock Greenich Mean Time off her – so I got to my office – my uncle lets me use his broom closet at his accounting firm. I opened the door – I opened the door – ehhh – my key – who locked the door? – I can’t get the – Oooo that janitor – I told him I’m here on Tuesdays – eh –“
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
“She walked into the office – she had legs up to – Oooo oooo oooo – aw geez – I can’t breathe! – her perfume wafted in after her – sniff – sniff – oh my god what is that? That isn’t citrus, is it? I break out in a rash if I even look at an orange – cough – oh geez my eyes are watering.”
“She looked me in the eyes – oh god – look at the floor – no, the wall – no, the desk – no, her eyes – Auuugh – the floor, the floor!”
“She said something about a missing brother – I couldn’t hear her too well – I was strating to clog up – I got a drawer full of anti-histamines – maybe if I slowly opened the (crash) – aw geez – I’ll just bend down and grab the – she’s still talking – I should be taking notes or something – (bang) – ow my head, my head – Oooooo – Ahhhhh – Oooooo – Ahhhhh – Ooooooo – Ahhhhhh – Ooooooo – Where did she go?”
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
“My name is Mervyn Heimlish. I’m a PI. My mother always told me never to abbreviate anything, it was a sign of laziness. I had two sets of business cards made – so she could have the ones that also included my full name and my grade 8 picture – the one where she’s standing behind me.”
“I went early to the office – I had to make sure I was awake before 5am – Mother is always up at 6 – I swear they could clock Greenich Mean Time off her – so I got to my office – my uncle lets me use his broom closet at his accounting firm. I opened the door – I opened the door – ehhh – my key – who locked the door? – I can’t get the – Oooo that janitor – I told him I’m here on Tuesdays – eh –“
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
“She walked into the office – she had legs up to – Oooo oooo oooo – aw geez – I can’t breathe! – her perfume wafted in after her – sniff – sniff – oh my god what is that? That isn’t citrus, is it? I break out in a rash if I even look at an orange – cough – oh geez my eyes are watering.”
“She looked me in the eyes – oh god – look at the floor – no, the wall – no, the desk – no, her eyes – Auuugh – the floor, the floor!”
“She said something about a missing brother – I couldn’t hear her too well – I was strating to clog up – I got a drawer full of anti-histamines – maybe if I slowly opened the (crash) – aw geez – I’ll just bend down and grab the – she’s still talking – I should be taking notes or something – (bang) – ow my head, my head – Oooooo – Ahhhhh – Oooooo – Ahhhhh – Ooooooo – Ahhhhhh – Ooooooo – Where did she go?”
Announcer: Mervyn Heimlish is – Soft Boiled
What's Up Column: Meme and my shadow
As promised, this time, it’s all about meme.
Go ahead and re-read that sentence again, I said “meme” (rhymes with theme). I will not be indulging in ego-inflation. I will however be indulging in some good ole waxing philosophically.
The term meme is defined as describing something concrete and/or abstract that is culturally shared. This can be something simple like popular music or fashion, or insubstantial things like catch phrases, recipes and even ideas.
I’ll put it into a simple perspective. Think about your childhood, and all the games you played. Likely, you were not the only kids in the world running around playing cops and robbers. I’m willing to bet, kids across the world play their own cultural version of law enforcers versus riff-raff.
Here’s another.
At the same time as I was plucking dandelions from the lawn, flicking the yellow tops off with my thumb, and chanting: “My momma had a baby and it’s head popped off”, other kids across North America were playing this (particularly gruesome) game.
It would be an interesting, yet nigh impossible task to follow the trail of weed killing youngsters to the original progenitor of that game.
Tighten your thinking caps.
If it is conceivably possible that various children at various points of the globe came up with the game, seemingly independent of each other, than the same could be said of almost any concept.
Who taught you to make scrambled eggs? Who taught them, and so on, and so on?
This isn’t to necessarily say that there are “atomic” thoughts flowing between all of us. (I don’t think I should go there. My column shouldn’t be renamed to “Doesn’t Make Any Flippin’ Sense!”) It is however an interesting way to talk about how thoughts and ideas are copied from person to person.
Another simple example we can all relate to be urban legends.
From the hook-handed man preying upon the amorous young couple, to a tall dynamite fishing tale, urban legends completely exemplify memes.
How is it possible that people can genuinely, honestly believe that these stories are true?
One of my high school teachers told us a story, that she assured us all was 100% true. A few years later, I found out that she detailed word for word a popular urban legend.
(Here’s a heads up – if you ever hear a story that sounds to crazy to be true, head over to the great website snopes.com. They have a complete urban legend database.)
Just as we evolve, spreading our genetic code through the generations, cultures evolve and spread concepts mimetically.
(In regards to the above, my apologies if you happen to be a creationist.)
Information, concepts and ideas are now so ridiculously prevalent. The decimation of culture in the modern age would make an ancient philosopher’s toga spin!
Look at our media vehicles: television, radio and especially the Internet.
The way we share knowledge has evolved dramatically in just a few short years.
Sometimes there are memes you wish you could avoid (cough) Anna Nicole Smith (cough), but living in the modern world makes it almost unavoidable.
However, therein lies the real fun. We already have something that comes pretty close to a collective unconscious. You gotta admit, that’s some pretty interesting stuff.
Keep in mind, it’s all-optional – you don’t have to get on the meme ride.
(Unless you’re a hard determinist –again – I won’t be going there.)But when you have that catchy tune in your head, give yourself a warm fuzzy feeling, cause if you think about it, someone else in the world is likely bopping their heads along too.
Go ahead and re-read that sentence again, I said “meme” (rhymes with theme). I will not be indulging in ego-inflation. I will however be indulging in some good ole waxing philosophically.
The term meme is defined as describing something concrete and/or abstract that is culturally shared. This can be something simple like popular music or fashion, or insubstantial things like catch phrases, recipes and even ideas.
I’ll put it into a simple perspective. Think about your childhood, and all the games you played. Likely, you were not the only kids in the world running around playing cops and robbers. I’m willing to bet, kids across the world play their own cultural version of law enforcers versus riff-raff.
Here’s another.
At the same time as I was plucking dandelions from the lawn, flicking the yellow tops off with my thumb, and chanting: “My momma had a baby and it’s head popped off”, other kids across North America were playing this (particularly gruesome) game.
It would be an interesting, yet nigh impossible task to follow the trail of weed killing youngsters to the original progenitor of that game.
Tighten your thinking caps.
If it is conceivably possible that various children at various points of the globe came up with the game, seemingly independent of each other, than the same could be said of almost any concept.
Who taught you to make scrambled eggs? Who taught them, and so on, and so on?
This isn’t to necessarily say that there are “atomic” thoughts flowing between all of us. (I don’t think I should go there. My column shouldn’t be renamed to “Doesn’t Make Any Flippin’ Sense!”) It is however an interesting way to talk about how thoughts and ideas are copied from person to person.
Another simple example we can all relate to be urban legends.
From the hook-handed man preying upon the amorous young couple, to a tall dynamite fishing tale, urban legends completely exemplify memes.
How is it possible that people can genuinely, honestly believe that these stories are true?
One of my high school teachers told us a story, that she assured us all was 100% true. A few years later, I found out that she detailed word for word a popular urban legend.
(Here’s a heads up – if you ever hear a story that sounds to crazy to be true, head over to the great website snopes.com. They have a complete urban legend database.)
Just as we evolve, spreading our genetic code through the generations, cultures evolve and spread concepts mimetically.
(In regards to the above, my apologies if you happen to be a creationist.)
Information, concepts and ideas are now so ridiculously prevalent. The decimation of culture in the modern age would make an ancient philosopher’s toga spin!
Look at our media vehicles: television, radio and especially the Internet.
The way we share knowledge has evolved dramatically in just a few short years.
Sometimes there are memes you wish you could avoid (cough) Anna Nicole Smith (cough), but living in the modern world makes it almost unavoidable.
However, therein lies the real fun. We already have something that comes pretty close to a collective unconscious. You gotta admit, that’s some pretty interesting stuff.
Keep in mind, it’s all-optional – you don’t have to get on the meme ride.
(Unless you’re a hard determinist –again – I won’t be going there.)But when you have that catchy tune in your head, give yourself a warm fuzzy feeling, cause if you think about it, someone else in the world is likely bopping their heads along too.
What's Up Column: Fatherhood
I wonder what kind of parent I’m going to be.
You see, my future sister-in-law recently gave birth to a lovely bundle of bouncing baby girl. It’s truly an amazing thing, holding the freshly minted miracle of birth in your hands. Amidst my cradling and cooing, thoughts of my own future in diapers popped into my head.
Actually, I was also thinking about how pushing something slightly larger than a football out of your body has got to hurt. I mean, I would likely come close to passing out if anyone came at me with a catheter.
(Now, for one of my usual side notes: I’ve made a pledge to my partner, that when we decide to have children, during the labour process, she is more than welcome to punch me in the groin at least three times. If it turns out we’re only going to have one, she gets another shot.)
I have to honestly say that I have absolutely no qualms about becoming a parent. I had the opportunity to be a “manny” recently and I’ve come to a solid conclusion that kids are a heck of a lot of fun.
That being said, knowing the kind of person I am, I wonder how that will affect my future progeny. A part of me is slightly amused at the image of my kid inventing stories of what his father does for a living. Mainly from fear of embarrassment of telling other kids the truth.
“Daddy’s a comedian,” doesn’t have quite the same gravitas as “Daddy’s a Space Marine!”
(I’m assuming in the future, we’ll have need for such an occupation. Or maybe I’m just hoping we will.)
I also don’t hide the fact that I truly enjoy the varied pleasures that fall into the category of “geeky”. I can already comprehend the anticipation that all fathers must have, in their desire to influence their children with the same likes or dislikes.
It’s going to be an extreme test of will, to not seem like a raving madman when certain subjects are broached.
“Lemme tell ya kiddo, it’s all about the original Star Trek,” I’ll say to my youngster, while clutching a copy of The City on The Edge of Forever. “Our lesson tomorrow will start with the incredible story arc of Babylon 5! Make yourself comfortable, 'cause then we have a whole lot of SCTV to get through.”
Are you already feeling embarrassed for children I don’t even have yet?
You see, I know I will do my best to raise my children to be healthy and happy. Naturally (and hopefully), everyone else in the world sets out to do the very same. It’s in the whole “raising” part where we all differ.
Influencing your children to think and act as you would like is so much of a natural process, it’s practically an unconscious activity. Of course we all would like our children to enjoy the same activities we do and maybe indulge in the same hobbies we have. You look at everything that influenced you and you can’t help but want to share that.
I know it doesn’t always work out that way.
And that’s perfectly fine.
I took a lot of time and philosophizing (I got that dog-eared copy of Illusions somewhere) to become the person I am. I think the best thing I can do is ensure my children have that same freedom. I would like their life decisions to be truly their own.
And that’s a simple formula. Make sure they’re healthy and happy. That I know I can do.
And if a copy of Crisis on Infinite Earths should be on the bookshelf next to Peter Rabbit, don’t blame me.
“Kids, did I ever tell you about the Sinestro Corps?”
You see, my future sister-in-law recently gave birth to a lovely bundle of bouncing baby girl. It’s truly an amazing thing, holding the freshly minted miracle of birth in your hands. Amidst my cradling and cooing, thoughts of my own future in diapers popped into my head.
Actually, I was also thinking about how pushing something slightly larger than a football out of your body has got to hurt. I mean, I would likely come close to passing out if anyone came at me with a catheter.
(Now, for one of my usual side notes: I’ve made a pledge to my partner, that when we decide to have children, during the labour process, she is more than welcome to punch me in the groin at least three times. If it turns out we’re only going to have one, she gets another shot.)
I have to honestly say that I have absolutely no qualms about becoming a parent. I had the opportunity to be a “manny” recently and I’ve come to a solid conclusion that kids are a heck of a lot of fun.
That being said, knowing the kind of person I am, I wonder how that will affect my future progeny. A part of me is slightly amused at the image of my kid inventing stories of what his father does for a living. Mainly from fear of embarrassment of telling other kids the truth.
“Daddy’s a comedian,” doesn’t have quite the same gravitas as “Daddy’s a Space Marine!”
(I’m assuming in the future, we’ll have need for such an occupation. Or maybe I’m just hoping we will.)
I also don’t hide the fact that I truly enjoy the varied pleasures that fall into the category of “geeky”. I can already comprehend the anticipation that all fathers must have, in their desire to influence their children with the same likes or dislikes.
It’s going to be an extreme test of will, to not seem like a raving madman when certain subjects are broached.
“Lemme tell ya kiddo, it’s all about the original Star Trek,” I’ll say to my youngster, while clutching a copy of The City on The Edge of Forever. “Our lesson tomorrow will start with the incredible story arc of Babylon 5! Make yourself comfortable, 'cause then we have a whole lot of SCTV to get through.”
Are you already feeling embarrassed for children I don’t even have yet?
You see, I know I will do my best to raise my children to be healthy and happy. Naturally (and hopefully), everyone else in the world sets out to do the very same. It’s in the whole “raising” part where we all differ.
Influencing your children to think and act as you would like is so much of a natural process, it’s practically an unconscious activity. Of course we all would like our children to enjoy the same activities we do and maybe indulge in the same hobbies we have. You look at everything that influenced you and you can’t help but want to share that.
I know it doesn’t always work out that way.
And that’s perfectly fine.
I took a lot of time and philosophizing (I got that dog-eared copy of Illusions somewhere) to become the person I am. I think the best thing I can do is ensure my children have that same freedom. I would like their life decisions to be truly their own.
And that’s a simple formula. Make sure they’re healthy and happy. That I know I can do.
And if a copy of Crisis on Infinite Earths should be on the bookshelf next to Peter Rabbit, don’t blame me.
“Kids, did I ever tell you about the Sinestro Corps?”
Sketch: Letters to Jesus
Needless to say, I'm quite fond of this one.
Letters to Jesus
(I enter, stand centre-stage. I pull out a rumpled piece of paper)
Anthony:
Hi there. I’ve had a lot questions about religion lately, and I wanted to get some clarification on certain – spiritual topics. I don’t go to church, so I thought I would be a little more direct. I wrote a letter to Jesus.
(read letter)
Dear Jesus,
How are you, I am fine. I’m not religious – but I thought if you should happen to exist, I wouldn’t mind getting a few things off my chest. You know that story where the guy is walking along the beach and there’s two sets of footprints in the sand, then after a bit there’s only one set of prints.
And you told the guy that the two sets of prints was when you were walking along side of him, and the one set of prints is when you were carrying the guy.
Was he drunk or something? Cause if you do offer that service – I really could have used you a couple of years ago. I got so drunk that I passed out at the bar – in the bathroom. I woke up with the cold metal of the toilet paper dispenser on my face.
I stumbled out just in time for closing. I don’t know if anyone noticed – I mean – it would be pretty embarrassing - who goes poop at the Taku? Except for me…I guess…I don’t know why I went in there in the first place.
I think I might have dozed on the ground a bit. I’m pretty sure I tried to sleep in a set of bushes.
I really wish you would have been there – I could have used a ride home – you know. If you’re gonna haul some guy off the beach – why not me?
I also want to talk to about the Rapture.
(pause to explain briefly to audience)
And people think the Vancouver Olympics is going to be a mess! I figure I’m not going to be one of the people who are insta-saved so I’d like to volunteer my services as a Rapture co-ordinator. I could help people get to open ground so they can “Rise-up” without bumping into anything. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone get people who are “going” to park their vehicles on the side on the road, uplug their toasters, butt out their cigarettes – etc.
I figure if I’m on the inside, I’ll be able to figure out easier who’s won. I mean any religious people still around – their probably wrong. I mean, if I have an inside edge I can adjust accordingly – like if the Amish are all gone, I’ll get rid of the PS2 and get a buggy – and who doesn’t love fresh churned butter? If there are no Mormons around – I’ll have different copies of shopping lists so that I can easily make it look like I never drank coke or coffee.
If the Catholics were right I would make sure to hoard Rosaries and scalp them.
I’m not Circumsised – but I really hope it’s not going to be a requirement. I don’t really look forward to the Army of God “moils” knocking on my door.
I can grow a beard fast enough if that’s a requirement – I figure I shouldn’t have stubble though – might make me look wishy-washy when you come back again to lower the boom.
I just wish it wasn’t all so ambiguous.
I’d really like to meet you in person to talk about this stuff.
If you want, we could go to the fair. Then if the conversation starts to get awkward, we can go on the rides – or something
Yours truly,
Anthony
(I walk off stage. Jesus enters. Pulls out letter and reads)
Jesus:
Dear Anthony,
I am fine, thank you for asking, and indeed I do exist.
Now, in regards to the story of the man on the beach – with the footprints and all that. It really is a sweet story, but I’m afraid that’s all it is. I never literally carried someone off a beach. Though we did have to drag Mark out of the restaurant after the Last Supper – he was screaming “C’mon I can do it – “Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board” Use your fingers!” We left Judas to pick up the cheque – Ha.
Anyhow, if I had been around, I’m sure I would have helped you out. Though have you ever noticed that at times when you are incredibly drunk – somehow you always seem to
end up home without knowing how you got there. Think on that.
No it’s not me. I’m trying to say you can easily take care of yourself.
Except for that fatty you once hooked up with – what were you thinking dude?
As for the Rapture, I’m very sorry – I can’t give away the details. This has been in the works for a couple of thousand years – it’s been a bitch making sure nothing gets leaked out. I can tell you this though –
*SPOILER ALERT!*
The Anti-Christ – Ashley Olsen. I know, people were all thinking Mary-Kate – jaws will drop!
Telling you who’s going to win the Rapture won’t help your soul any. You really do have to find your path – it looks better to the folks upstairs. I really appreciate the time your taking to get ready though – and having a co-ordinator sounds like a great idea. What size of vest do you wear? We have a deal with White Spot – I’ll get you some meal vouchers – should last you until the Mutant Zombie attacks – Oops.
All that aside, I’d love to meet with you.
The fair sounds nice.
Jesus
(Jesus leaves the stage.)
(SFX – Nice music plays)
(I re-enter and stand waiting. Jesus enters and I go to shake his hand, then hug him. We move to stage left and play a game, Jesus wins me a stuffed doll. We move to stage right and he orders two sodas. I take them - Jesus looks at me and gestures that he has no money. I pass the sodas to him and turn to pay. Jesus shakes my soda, then passes it to me. I get fizzy soda on me. We walk to two chairs at center and sit.)
(SFX – nice music fades out)
Anthony: Wow, Jesus. What a great day I’ve had. I really understand where you come from.
Jesus: You know Anthony, it truly was a good idea to meet with you – I haven’t had the chance to unwind like this since the Olive Garden. It was Luke’s birthday last week.
Anthony: So, any chance of my getting saved come the Rapture.
Jesus: Oh we’ll see, Anthony, we’ll see.
(Both of us look forward)
(SFX – Hard rocking music)
Carny Announcer: Boogedy-Boogedy-Boogedy - Ladies and Gentlemen, Boy and Girls, Children of All ages – Strap yourselves in for the most wild ride in the history of mankind. This is your one-stop shop for excitement, your most excellent high-speed adventure – Welcome to the Rock and Roll Express! Are you ready to rock!
Jesus and me: Yes!
Announcer: I can’t hear you!
Jesus and Me: YES!
Announcer: That’s better! Now get your hands in the air!
(Jesus and I do)
Announcer: Here-we-go! Now screeeeeeeeam!
(Jesus and I do)
(Black)
Letters to Jesus
(I enter, stand centre-stage. I pull out a rumpled piece of paper)
Anthony:
Hi there. I’ve had a lot questions about religion lately, and I wanted to get some clarification on certain – spiritual topics. I don’t go to church, so I thought I would be a little more direct. I wrote a letter to Jesus.
(read letter)
Dear Jesus,
How are you, I am fine. I’m not religious – but I thought if you should happen to exist, I wouldn’t mind getting a few things off my chest. You know that story where the guy is walking along the beach and there’s two sets of footprints in the sand, then after a bit there’s only one set of prints.
And you told the guy that the two sets of prints was when you were walking along side of him, and the one set of prints is when you were carrying the guy.
Was he drunk or something? Cause if you do offer that service – I really could have used you a couple of years ago. I got so drunk that I passed out at the bar – in the bathroom. I woke up with the cold metal of the toilet paper dispenser on my face.
I stumbled out just in time for closing. I don’t know if anyone noticed – I mean – it would be pretty embarrassing - who goes poop at the Taku? Except for me…I guess…I don’t know why I went in there in the first place.
I think I might have dozed on the ground a bit. I’m pretty sure I tried to sleep in a set of bushes.
I really wish you would have been there – I could have used a ride home – you know. If you’re gonna haul some guy off the beach – why not me?
I also want to talk to about the Rapture.
(pause to explain briefly to audience)
And people think the Vancouver Olympics is going to be a mess! I figure I’m not going to be one of the people who are insta-saved so I’d like to volunteer my services as a Rapture co-ordinator. I could help people get to open ground so they can “Rise-up” without bumping into anything. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone get people who are “going” to park their vehicles on the side on the road, uplug their toasters, butt out their cigarettes – etc.
I figure if I’m on the inside, I’ll be able to figure out easier who’s won. I mean any religious people still around – their probably wrong. I mean, if I have an inside edge I can adjust accordingly – like if the Amish are all gone, I’ll get rid of the PS2 and get a buggy – and who doesn’t love fresh churned butter? If there are no Mormons around – I’ll have different copies of shopping lists so that I can easily make it look like I never drank coke or coffee.
If the Catholics were right I would make sure to hoard Rosaries and scalp them.
I’m not Circumsised – but I really hope it’s not going to be a requirement. I don’t really look forward to the Army of God “moils” knocking on my door.
I can grow a beard fast enough if that’s a requirement – I figure I shouldn’t have stubble though – might make me look wishy-washy when you come back again to lower the boom.
I just wish it wasn’t all so ambiguous.
I’d really like to meet you in person to talk about this stuff.
If you want, we could go to the fair. Then if the conversation starts to get awkward, we can go on the rides – or something
Yours truly,
Anthony
(I walk off stage. Jesus enters. Pulls out letter and reads)
Jesus:
Dear Anthony,
I am fine, thank you for asking, and indeed I do exist.
Now, in regards to the story of the man on the beach – with the footprints and all that. It really is a sweet story, but I’m afraid that’s all it is. I never literally carried someone off a beach. Though we did have to drag Mark out of the restaurant after the Last Supper – he was screaming “C’mon I can do it – “Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board” Use your fingers!” We left Judas to pick up the cheque – Ha.
Anyhow, if I had been around, I’m sure I would have helped you out. Though have you ever noticed that at times when you are incredibly drunk – somehow you always seem to
end up home without knowing how you got there. Think on that.
No it’s not me. I’m trying to say you can easily take care of yourself.
Except for that fatty you once hooked up with – what were you thinking dude?
As for the Rapture, I’m very sorry – I can’t give away the details. This has been in the works for a couple of thousand years – it’s been a bitch making sure nothing gets leaked out. I can tell you this though –
*SPOILER ALERT!*
The Anti-Christ – Ashley Olsen. I know, people were all thinking Mary-Kate – jaws will drop!
Telling you who’s going to win the Rapture won’t help your soul any. You really do have to find your path – it looks better to the folks upstairs. I really appreciate the time your taking to get ready though – and having a co-ordinator sounds like a great idea. What size of vest do you wear? We have a deal with White Spot – I’ll get you some meal vouchers – should last you until the Mutant Zombie attacks – Oops.
All that aside, I’d love to meet with you.
The fair sounds nice.
Jesus
(Jesus leaves the stage.)
(SFX – Nice music plays)
(I re-enter and stand waiting. Jesus enters and I go to shake his hand, then hug him. We move to stage left and play a game, Jesus wins me a stuffed doll. We move to stage right and he orders two sodas. I take them - Jesus looks at me and gestures that he has no money. I pass the sodas to him and turn to pay. Jesus shakes my soda, then passes it to me. I get fizzy soda on me. We walk to two chairs at center and sit.)
(SFX – nice music fades out)
Anthony: Wow, Jesus. What a great day I’ve had. I really understand where you come from.
Jesus: You know Anthony, it truly was a good idea to meet with you – I haven’t had the chance to unwind like this since the Olive Garden. It was Luke’s birthday last week.
Anthony: So, any chance of my getting saved come the Rapture.
Jesus: Oh we’ll see, Anthony, we’ll see.
(Both of us look forward)
(SFX – Hard rocking music)
Carny Announcer: Boogedy-Boogedy-Boogedy - Ladies and Gentlemen, Boy and Girls, Children of All ages – Strap yourselves in for the most wild ride in the history of mankind. This is your one-stop shop for excitement, your most excellent high-speed adventure – Welcome to the Rock and Roll Express! Are you ready to rock!
Jesus and me: Yes!
Announcer: I can’t hear you!
Jesus and Me: YES!
Announcer: That’s better! Now get your hands in the air!
(Jesus and I do)
Announcer: Here-we-go! Now screeeeeeeeam!
(Jesus and I do)
(Black)
What's Up Column: Guilt
I’ll admit I’ve been having problems with the term “guilty pleasure”.
If you happen to be unfamiliar with the term (congratulations on getting out of the monastery by the way), allow me to enlighten you. The term refers to things we incorporate into our lifestyle that we enjoy, and should simultaneously feel bad or embarrassed about.
We all know it sounds counter-productive, and yet most people still feel pangs of guilt for things they truly enjoy.
And they may not even be Catholic!
I feel like I have a good grasp of this subject as almost everything I enjoy doing in my spare time, my hobbies, are near the bottom of the Nine Circles of “Guilty Pleasure” Hell.
Indeed, dear reader, comic books, video games and television have been a big part of my life. And there is no way I’m going to let someone else put me in a moral quandary about it. I love engaging in these activities, feeling guilty about them doesn’t make any sense.
The biggest example of this phenomenon would be television. It is as if there were a tangible, universal force making people feel bad about enjoying watching pretty pictures in a box.
And I fail to see why that should be.
Television can indeed be a wasteland of video garbage, but there at least is literally something for everyone. Anyone also has the complete freedom to not watch television and do exactly as they please.
Let me explain first that I do indeed watch television. I don’t take pride in watching television; in fact, I feel no need whatsoever to ascribe some sort of nobility quotient to the things I do.
Unfortunately many people do.
I have actually been involved in conversations where people needed to expound the grand fact that they did NOT own a television. Or, if they did own a television, it was only to watch movies – ahem – pardon me, films.
This somehow implied that if they were not at the very least more productive members of society for not watching television, their spare time was naturally filled with grander, more benevolent pursuits.
I assume like finding cures for cancer, or inventing ways for cats to self-extricate themselves for trees. (Actually, that would be kinda cool)
Now, I’m not exactly sure how not watching television automatically makes one more erudite than the rest of the hoi polloi, but there you have it. This is the general belief, especially here in the Yukon.
C’mon, you know and I know that to be in the “high moral fibre” category of Yukoner, one must listen to one certain radio station, and read one particular newspaper.
And no, it’s unfortunately not the print you hold in your hands.
It’s ridiculous to think these seemingly inconsequential things, the media you consume, somehow gauges your status in the world.
I do understand that there is some sort of joy indulging in guilty pleasures. It’s the frisson of doing something naughty, something you shouldn’t be doing.
But can you imagine how much more you would enjoy the things you do if you removed the guilt factor entirely.
And I’m really talking about the purely inconsequential things like television, books or music.
So if you’re going to park your arse in front of the tube for a Battlestar Galactica marathon or listen to another scintillating and informative noon-hour call-in show on the radio, enjoy it!
Just please don’t feel the need to tell me about it. I’m not making any judgements here. Except for the Galactica marathon, I’ll bring popcorn.
If you happen to be unfamiliar with the term (congratulations on getting out of the monastery by the way), allow me to enlighten you. The term refers to things we incorporate into our lifestyle that we enjoy, and should simultaneously feel bad or embarrassed about.
We all know it sounds counter-productive, and yet most people still feel pangs of guilt for things they truly enjoy.
And they may not even be Catholic!
I feel like I have a good grasp of this subject as almost everything I enjoy doing in my spare time, my hobbies, are near the bottom of the Nine Circles of “Guilty Pleasure” Hell.
Indeed, dear reader, comic books, video games and television have been a big part of my life. And there is no way I’m going to let someone else put me in a moral quandary about it. I love engaging in these activities, feeling guilty about them doesn’t make any sense.
The biggest example of this phenomenon would be television. It is as if there were a tangible, universal force making people feel bad about enjoying watching pretty pictures in a box.
And I fail to see why that should be.
Television can indeed be a wasteland of video garbage, but there at least is literally something for everyone. Anyone also has the complete freedom to not watch television and do exactly as they please.
Let me explain first that I do indeed watch television. I don’t take pride in watching television; in fact, I feel no need whatsoever to ascribe some sort of nobility quotient to the things I do.
Unfortunately many people do.
I have actually been involved in conversations where people needed to expound the grand fact that they did NOT own a television. Or, if they did own a television, it was only to watch movies – ahem – pardon me, films.
This somehow implied that if they were not at the very least more productive members of society for not watching television, their spare time was naturally filled with grander, more benevolent pursuits.
I assume like finding cures for cancer, or inventing ways for cats to self-extricate themselves for trees. (Actually, that would be kinda cool)
Now, I’m not exactly sure how not watching television automatically makes one more erudite than the rest of the hoi polloi, but there you have it. This is the general belief, especially here in the Yukon.
C’mon, you know and I know that to be in the “high moral fibre” category of Yukoner, one must listen to one certain radio station, and read one particular newspaper.
And no, it’s unfortunately not the print you hold in your hands.
It’s ridiculous to think these seemingly inconsequential things, the media you consume, somehow gauges your status in the world.
I do understand that there is some sort of joy indulging in guilty pleasures. It’s the frisson of doing something naughty, something you shouldn’t be doing.
But can you imagine how much more you would enjoy the things you do if you removed the guilt factor entirely.
And I’m really talking about the purely inconsequential things like television, books or music.
So if you’re going to park your arse in front of the tube for a Battlestar Galactica marathon or listen to another scintillating and informative noon-hour call-in show on the radio, enjoy it!
Just please don’t feel the need to tell me about it. I’m not making any judgements here. Except for the Galactica marathon, I’ll bring popcorn.
What's Up Column: Next Comedy Meh...
There was certainly a lot I couldn't say in the article that I really wanted to.
Reality television is certainly artifice in its lowest form - so why take part?
Honestly, I needed to know a couple of things about my future career choice, and I wanted to meet Joe Flaherty.
Watching the show when it aired was a chore. For a show supposedly about comedy, it was particularily unfunny. As in, not at all. There didn't seem to be much of a process to it - and the clips that were mashed together were pretty yawn inducing.
And Trish Stratus as a host? Ouch.
Also she's actually pretty short. Here's the article:
I took a bold move recently and unfortunately, I can’t say anything about it.
In a somewhat large nutshell (perhaps a walnut), I participated in CBC’s Next Comedy Legend. This is a cough reality show, created in conjunction with the legendary group Second City, where 8 people will vie for our viewing pleasure. The ring these comedic combatants will be grasping for is a contract with Second City’s touring company.
This is certainly a grand prize indeed, but worth going through the ridiculousness of a reality show?
I can’t answer that, not even in my own signature facetious way. You see, when I went down for the audition, I signed a piece of paper filled with a magical amount of legalese.
Which means, I can’t talk about my experience. Which means, and this is the truly sad part, I can’t make fun of it. And by golly, there was a lot to make fun of. Sigh.
So, let’s skirt around the edges, and see what I can discuss about the experience.
In the first place, I had a few reasons to go out and audition. My immediate, was the roster of celebrity judges they have for the show. Or two out of the three anyhow.
My bags were practically packed when I saw that Joe Flaherty would be one of the judges. Needless to say, I have deep fondness for SCTV. Any Canadian comedian worth their salt, would agree with me. Joe Flaherty certainly has his memorable characters (Sammy Maudlin, and anytime he and Eugene Levy were on being my favourites), but he was also instrumental as a writer for the show.
Upping the ante for my impetus to get on the plane was Mick Napier. This fellow has been a director for Second City stage shows, as well as the founder of Chicago’s Annoyance Theatre. He also penned the book “Improvise: Scene from the Inside Out”, which I own and have poured over a few times.
If you have any interest in improvisation, snag yourself a copy. No, it won’t make you a better improviser – that comes from practise, but he makes some great points on the art.
The third judge was Elvira Kurt, umm, she has short hair…
So, I would be presenting three characters in front of these people (and the cameras, producers, crew, etc.), and from that they would be deciding if I would be advancing to the next round.
Once again, delving through the jungle of legal talk on the release form I signed, that’s about all I can say.
I had a lot of wonderful support from family and friends, which really helped an enormous amount in the long run.
The experience was invaluable for the following introspection.
Comedy is not only what I love to do, it is indeed what I want to do.
Being scrutinized by people I respect in the field in which I would like to be an active member of, certainly took some courage on my part. It was gratifying to know that not only did I possess the mettle to go, I realize I have the verve to continue pursuing this career.
Second City’s Next Comedy Legend will be airing sometime this summer on CBC television. Out of the four audition cities, 4 men and 4 women will be cut down to 1 winner. I’m getting cramps from simultaneously keeping my mouth shut and firmly holding my tongue in my cheek.
Reality television is certainly artifice in its lowest form - so why take part?
Honestly, I needed to know a couple of things about my future career choice, and I wanted to meet Joe Flaherty.
Watching the show when it aired was a chore. For a show supposedly about comedy, it was particularily unfunny. As in, not at all. There didn't seem to be much of a process to it - and the clips that were mashed together were pretty yawn inducing.
And Trish Stratus as a host? Ouch.
Also she's actually pretty short. Here's the article:
I took a bold move recently and unfortunately, I can’t say anything about it.
In a somewhat large nutshell (perhaps a walnut), I participated in CBC’s Next Comedy Legend. This is a cough reality show, created in conjunction with the legendary group Second City, where 8 people will vie for our viewing pleasure. The ring these comedic combatants will be grasping for is a contract with Second City’s touring company.
This is certainly a grand prize indeed, but worth going through the ridiculousness of a reality show?
I can’t answer that, not even in my own signature facetious way. You see, when I went down for the audition, I signed a piece of paper filled with a magical amount of legalese.
Which means, I can’t talk about my experience. Which means, and this is the truly sad part, I can’t make fun of it. And by golly, there was a lot to make fun of. Sigh.
So, let’s skirt around the edges, and see what I can discuss about the experience.
In the first place, I had a few reasons to go out and audition. My immediate, was the roster of celebrity judges they have for the show. Or two out of the three anyhow.
My bags were practically packed when I saw that Joe Flaherty would be one of the judges. Needless to say, I have deep fondness for SCTV. Any Canadian comedian worth their salt, would agree with me. Joe Flaherty certainly has his memorable characters (Sammy Maudlin, and anytime he and Eugene Levy were on being my favourites), but he was also instrumental as a writer for the show.
Upping the ante for my impetus to get on the plane was Mick Napier. This fellow has been a director for Second City stage shows, as well as the founder of Chicago’s Annoyance Theatre. He also penned the book “Improvise: Scene from the Inside Out”, which I own and have poured over a few times.
If you have any interest in improvisation, snag yourself a copy. No, it won’t make you a better improviser – that comes from practise, but he makes some great points on the art.
The third judge was Elvira Kurt, umm, she has short hair…
So, I would be presenting three characters in front of these people (and the cameras, producers, crew, etc.), and from that they would be deciding if I would be advancing to the next round.
Once again, delving through the jungle of legal talk on the release form I signed, that’s about all I can say.
I had a lot of wonderful support from family and friends, which really helped an enormous amount in the long run.
The experience was invaluable for the following introspection.
Comedy is not only what I love to do, it is indeed what I want to do.
Being scrutinized by people I respect in the field in which I would like to be an active member of, certainly took some courage on my part. It was gratifying to know that not only did I possess the mettle to go, I realize I have the verve to continue pursuing this career.
Second City’s Next Comedy Legend will be airing sometime this summer on CBC television. Out of the four audition cities, 4 men and 4 women will be cut down to 1 winner. I’m getting cramps from simultaneously keeping my mouth shut and firmly holding my tongue in my cheek.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
What's Up Column: My Global Village is Better Than Yours!
Whitehorse is filled with a bevvy of culture-vultures, and it's apparently of a great social importance to consume the proper media. It's a very strange bohemian class system in which one is forced to agree to pretend to enjoy bullshit, and panned for consuming what they actually enjoy.
Fuck off and let people enjoy whatever they hell they want. Here's the article:
I wish people would just let me enjoy technology.
I recently had a conversation on how communication has changed over the years. It’s obvious that modern advances have completely changed the way people not only communicate with each other, but ultimately the medium in which they do so.
The conversation led to an argument on degrees of nobility between forms of communication. As in, is it better to talk to someone face to face, than to instant message someone?
No doubt you’ve already made that choice in your head. Unfortunately, there has been a trend lately to equate a certain amount of nobility to being a vague sort of Luddite. As in, people honestly believe that they are better people by avoiding certain elements of modern technology. It’s the new metrosexuality.
While I will always heartily applaud one’s right to believe darn well anything they want, I get a little disappointed in people when I hear this sentiment: That divorcing oneself from certain elements of technology will naturally make one a better citizen of the world.
Hopefully, that last sentence will sound ridiculous. As well it should. We’ve made a sad practice out of creating levels of status from our idle pastimes. Apparently what you do in your free time becomes your watermark of value in society.
These days the pooh-poohing trend leans towards how we communicate with each other. Our options in that category have increased dramatically, with ongoing advances in e-mail and wireless technology. Keeping touch these days is pretty darn simple.
So yeah, you really have no excuse why you shouldn’t be saying hello to mom. (Which reminds me…)
But can one truly say that one form of communication is better than the other. I’d say the matter is really far too subjective. What works for some, doesn’t work for others. Whereas some folks heartily enjoy the face-to-face chat, others take pleasure in what e-mails or instant messaging has to offer.
Let’s take a look at teenagers, I’d say they’re paragons of social interaction. While you might be having your comfortable chat with a live human being, they’re likely engaged in a dozen conversations. And please, let’s not get into who will be having the more benign conversation. Face to face talks about Grey’s Anatomy episodes can be just as inane as sharing the latest Youtube finds.
There are just as many nuances in an email, than there are in a live conversation. There are differences for sure, but sometimes there are things you can only say electronically. The mere fact that technology has now allowed for a far greater range of people to effectively communicate to others on a global scale is a good thing. (One would think.)
I know I won’t be building any bridges here. There are too many factors ingrained in our society, mainly right here in the Yukon, that don’t allow for much leeway. There are many popular perceptions on what you should be consuming, what culture you should be paying attention to, and on exactly what vehicle your information should be delivered. Elitism in any form is pretty ridiculous. And when it comes to such a subjective matter, it is even more so. So, thumb through your copy of Adbusters with the pride you think you deserve, the world will still turn.
And I’ll still be having fun with my toys.
Fuck off and let people enjoy whatever they hell they want. Here's the article:
I wish people would just let me enjoy technology.
I recently had a conversation on how communication has changed over the years. It’s obvious that modern advances have completely changed the way people not only communicate with each other, but ultimately the medium in which they do so.
The conversation led to an argument on degrees of nobility between forms of communication. As in, is it better to talk to someone face to face, than to instant message someone?
No doubt you’ve already made that choice in your head. Unfortunately, there has been a trend lately to equate a certain amount of nobility to being a vague sort of Luddite. As in, people honestly believe that they are better people by avoiding certain elements of modern technology. It’s the new metrosexuality.
While I will always heartily applaud one’s right to believe darn well anything they want, I get a little disappointed in people when I hear this sentiment: That divorcing oneself from certain elements of technology will naturally make one a better citizen of the world.
Hopefully, that last sentence will sound ridiculous. As well it should. We’ve made a sad practice out of creating levels of status from our idle pastimes. Apparently what you do in your free time becomes your watermark of value in society.
These days the pooh-poohing trend leans towards how we communicate with each other. Our options in that category have increased dramatically, with ongoing advances in e-mail and wireless technology. Keeping touch these days is pretty darn simple.
So yeah, you really have no excuse why you shouldn’t be saying hello to mom. (Which reminds me…)
But can one truly say that one form of communication is better than the other. I’d say the matter is really far too subjective. What works for some, doesn’t work for others. Whereas some folks heartily enjoy the face-to-face chat, others take pleasure in what e-mails or instant messaging has to offer.
Let’s take a look at teenagers, I’d say they’re paragons of social interaction. While you might be having your comfortable chat with a live human being, they’re likely engaged in a dozen conversations. And please, let’s not get into who will be having the more benign conversation. Face to face talks about Grey’s Anatomy episodes can be just as inane as sharing the latest Youtube finds.
There are just as many nuances in an email, than there are in a live conversation. There are differences for sure, but sometimes there are things you can only say electronically. The mere fact that technology has now allowed for a far greater range of people to effectively communicate to others on a global scale is a good thing. (One would think.)
I know I won’t be building any bridges here. There are too many factors ingrained in our society, mainly right here in the Yukon, that don’t allow for much leeway. There are many popular perceptions on what you should be consuming, what culture you should be paying attention to, and on exactly what vehicle your information should be delivered. Elitism in any form is pretty ridiculous. And when it comes to such a subjective matter, it is even more so. So, thumb through your copy of Adbusters with the pride you think you deserve, the world will still turn.
And I’ll still be having fun with my toys.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Sketch: Science!
Science!
(A scientist, dressed in requisite coat, is furiously mixing ingredients into a test tube. He holds it closely to face and gazes intently.)
Rolf: Ah-hah! They said it couldn’t be done! They laughed at me, they ridiculed me, they scoffed at me behind my back, day after day they took my parking spot – but now! I have DONE IT! I – Rolf Zanzerbatten – have discovered the cure for canc – whoops!
(Rolf drops the test tube on the floor)
Rolf: Oh scheisse.
(Another scientist, cultured British type, wanders into the room)
Reginald: What’s that then Jerry? You discover something?
Rolf: It’s Rolf. And…errrr…no.
(Rolf moves to hide mess at his feet)
Reginald: Well, I swear I heard something like “A cure –“
Rolf: No, no I believe I said I have discovered a “cu-linary delight in this Fruit by the Foot”.
(Rolf pulls out Fruit by the Foot and starts chewing in over-acted delight)
Reginald: No I don’t think that’s what I heard.
Rolf: Ya, ya – Fruit by the Foot – truly amazing stuff. You want a piece, I have at least 5 and ½ inches left!
Reginald: Say, what’s that there at your feet?
Rolf: Nothing! Oh you mean my shoes! Yes, they’re new! Florsheims! Size 9! Extremely comfortable! You should get a pair! Let’s go get some now!
(Rolf tries to move Reginald out of door)
Reginald: Hold on there Jerry.
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: Those look like the tell-tale shards of a broken test tube.
Rolf: What are you…What? No. Don’t be silly. Is it lunch time already? Helga made this schnitzel last night you just have to try – c’mon Reggie!
Reginald: Jerry –
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: Stop!
(Reginald pushes Rolf aside and scrutinizes the mess. He bends down and taps the residue with his pipe. He looks at Rolf, then pokes his finger into the solution and has a taste.)
Reginald: Hmmmm, slightly sweet – hint of mint – I say – this isn’t the cure for cancer is it?
Rolf: Yyyyyyy-no…
Reginald: Jerry old bean! Why so trepidatious! This is a wonderful occaision, you should be celebrating. Shall I call the boys in?
Rolf: NO! I’ll just clean up this mess and we’ll go to the cafeteria, my treat, I hear it’s pizza day! Mmmm pizza!
Reginald: Jerry,
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: what are you not telling me here? Why don’t you just whip up a new batch? We do have more test tubes.
Rolf: That’s not quite it.
Reginald: You did write the whole process down, did you not?
Rolf: Not…exactly no.
Reginald: Are you telling me, you discovered the cure for cancer, didn’t write any of your process, then dropped it?
Rolf: Well…I…so what?
Reginald: Tut, tut Jerry.
Rolf: ROLF! Look, I hate following recipes – it stifles my creative freedom!
(Another scientist pokes his head in)
Max: Say Hans, what’s the rumpus? I got touchy stuff in the cyclotron.
Rolf: Nothing is going on. We’re going to the cafeteria! PIZZA!
Reginald: Well, our Teutonic colleague here just dropped the –
(Rolf pushes Reginald hard)
Reginald: I say! Down, Jerry, down!
Rolf: It’s Rolf! And I want everyone out of my laboratory!!
Max: I’m pretty sure it’s Meatloaf day.
Reginald: I thought it was Tacos.
Rolf: Would you please leave.
Reginald: I love Tacos.
Max: Hey Hans, what’s the mess on the floor?
(He goes to it. Rolf blocks his way.)
Rolf: Look! There is nothing here to see. Nothing is going on! I don’t ask for much around here you know – maybe a little quiet now and then – some privacy – maybe getting my name right once in a while. Maybe toning down the Hitler jokes.
Max: Ha, remember yesterdays? How does Hans flag down a cab?
(Reginald laughs and makes Hitler salute while shouting in bad German accent)
Reginald: Tax-eee! Tax-eee!
Rolf: My name is Rolf! And those jokes are not funny!
(Another scientist pokes her head in the door)
Janice: What joke? Oh you mean how he’s such a Sour Kraut!
(Reginald laughs)
Max: I don’t get it.
Reginald: Sour-Kraut.
(Max shrugs)
Janice: Like what you put on your hot dog.
Max: On my…oh…Ha!
(All three laugh while Rolf fumes)
Rolf: Ach mein Gott!! Du bist alles sheisskopfen!!!
Reginald: Whoa, settle down - Werner Von Braun!
Max: Who’s Werner Von Braun.
Janice: Nazi scientist, came to the US, invented rockets.
(Max looks at Rolf and laughs again)
Reginald: Yes, you know that song:
(Reginald steps forward and clears his throat. Rolf stands in frozen rage)
“Gather 'round while I sing you of Wernher von Braun,
A man whose allegiance
Is ruled by expedience.
Call him a Nazi, he won't even frown,
"Ha, Nazi, Schmazi," says Wernher von Braun.
Janice: Oh, I love Tom Lehrer! (continuing song) “Don't say that he's hypocritical,”
Reginald: “Say rather that he's apolitical.”
Janice: "Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down?”
Max: “That's not my department," says Wernher von Braun.”
(All three laugh uproariously.)
Rolf: (exploding) Blas Mir Einen Arschloch!!
(Rolf storms out of lab)
Janice: Little touchy isn’t he?
(pause)
Max: So – Meatloaf!
Janice: Sounds good.
Reginald: Right behind you.
(Max and Janice leave, Reginald takes a look around the corner to make sure he’s alone. He pulls out collection syringe and takes sample of liquid on floor. He scuffs the rest with his shoe.)
Reginald: Sucker.
(Rule Britannia plays as he walks out. Black)
(A scientist, dressed in requisite coat, is furiously mixing ingredients into a test tube. He holds it closely to face and gazes intently.)
Rolf: Ah-hah! They said it couldn’t be done! They laughed at me, they ridiculed me, they scoffed at me behind my back, day after day they took my parking spot – but now! I have DONE IT! I – Rolf Zanzerbatten – have discovered the cure for canc – whoops!
(Rolf drops the test tube on the floor)
Rolf: Oh scheisse.
(Another scientist, cultured British type, wanders into the room)
Reginald: What’s that then Jerry? You discover something?
Rolf: It’s Rolf. And…errrr…no.
(Rolf moves to hide mess at his feet)
Reginald: Well, I swear I heard something like “A cure –“
Rolf: No, no I believe I said I have discovered a “cu-linary delight in this Fruit by the Foot”.
(Rolf pulls out Fruit by the Foot and starts chewing in over-acted delight)
Reginald: No I don’t think that’s what I heard.
Rolf: Ya, ya – Fruit by the Foot – truly amazing stuff. You want a piece, I have at least 5 and ½ inches left!
Reginald: Say, what’s that there at your feet?
Rolf: Nothing! Oh you mean my shoes! Yes, they’re new! Florsheims! Size 9! Extremely comfortable! You should get a pair! Let’s go get some now!
(Rolf tries to move Reginald out of door)
Reginald: Hold on there Jerry.
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: Those look like the tell-tale shards of a broken test tube.
Rolf: What are you…What? No. Don’t be silly. Is it lunch time already? Helga made this schnitzel last night you just have to try – c’mon Reggie!
Reginald: Jerry –
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: Stop!
(Reginald pushes Rolf aside and scrutinizes the mess. He bends down and taps the residue with his pipe. He looks at Rolf, then pokes his finger into the solution and has a taste.)
Reginald: Hmmmm, slightly sweet – hint of mint – I say – this isn’t the cure for cancer is it?
Rolf: Yyyyyyy-no…
Reginald: Jerry old bean! Why so trepidatious! This is a wonderful occaision, you should be celebrating. Shall I call the boys in?
Rolf: NO! I’ll just clean up this mess and we’ll go to the cafeteria, my treat, I hear it’s pizza day! Mmmm pizza!
Reginald: Jerry,
Rolf: Rolf.
Reginald: what are you not telling me here? Why don’t you just whip up a new batch? We do have more test tubes.
Rolf: That’s not quite it.
Reginald: You did write the whole process down, did you not?
Rolf: Not…exactly no.
Reginald: Are you telling me, you discovered the cure for cancer, didn’t write any of your process, then dropped it?
Rolf: Well…I…so what?
Reginald: Tut, tut Jerry.
Rolf: ROLF! Look, I hate following recipes – it stifles my creative freedom!
(Another scientist pokes his head in)
Max: Say Hans, what’s the rumpus? I got touchy stuff in the cyclotron.
Rolf: Nothing is going on. We’re going to the cafeteria! PIZZA!
Reginald: Well, our Teutonic colleague here just dropped the –
(Rolf pushes Reginald hard)
Reginald: I say! Down, Jerry, down!
Rolf: It’s Rolf! And I want everyone out of my laboratory!!
Max: I’m pretty sure it’s Meatloaf day.
Reginald: I thought it was Tacos.
Rolf: Would you please leave.
Reginald: I love Tacos.
Max: Hey Hans, what’s the mess on the floor?
(He goes to it. Rolf blocks his way.)
Rolf: Look! There is nothing here to see. Nothing is going on! I don’t ask for much around here you know – maybe a little quiet now and then – some privacy – maybe getting my name right once in a while. Maybe toning down the Hitler jokes.
Max: Ha, remember yesterdays? How does Hans flag down a cab?
(Reginald laughs and makes Hitler salute while shouting in bad German accent)
Reginald: Tax-eee! Tax-eee!
Rolf: My name is Rolf! And those jokes are not funny!
(Another scientist pokes her head in the door)
Janice: What joke? Oh you mean how he’s such a Sour Kraut!
(Reginald laughs)
Max: I don’t get it.
Reginald: Sour-Kraut.
(Max shrugs)
Janice: Like what you put on your hot dog.
Max: On my…oh…Ha!
(All three laugh while Rolf fumes)
Rolf: Ach mein Gott!! Du bist alles sheisskopfen!!!
Reginald: Whoa, settle down - Werner Von Braun!
Max: Who’s Werner Von Braun.
Janice: Nazi scientist, came to the US, invented rockets.
(Max looks at Rolf and laughs again)
Reginald: Yes, you know that song:
(Reginald steps forward and clears his throat. Rolf stands in frozen rage)
“Gather 'round while I sing you of Wernher von Braun,
A man whose allegiance
Is ruled by expedience.
Call him a Nazi, he won't even frown,
"Ha, Nazi, Schmazi," says Wernher von Braun.
Janice: Oh, I love Tom Lehrer! (continuing song) “Don't say that he's hypocritical,”
Reginald: “Say rather that he's apolitical.”
Janice: "Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down?”
Max: “That's not my department," says Wernher von Braun.”
(All three laugh uproariously.)
Rolf: (exploding) Blas Mir Einen Arschloch!!
(Rolf storms out of lab)
Janice: Little touchy isn’t he?
(pause)
Max: So – Meatloaf!
Janice: Sounds good.
Reginald: Right behind you.
(Max and Janice leave, Reginald takes a look around the corner to make sure he’s alone. He pulls out collection syringe and takes sample of liquid on floor. He scuffs the rest with his shoe.)
Reginald: Sucker.
(Rule Britannia plays as he walks out. Black)
Sketch: Murray 2
Murray sits at his desk, puffing on a cigar. He stares intently at a man sitting across from him. The man looks uncomfortable. Murray stares at him for a few moments.)
Murray: Okay, this is the thing.
Mark: Okay…
Murray: To get this to the next level. We need to go here.
(Murray puts his hand in the air)
Murray: Are you following me? No? Look, right now you’re here. (He puts his hand just above the desk) We need to go here. (He raises his hand high). Here. (moves hand) Here. (moves hand) I think I’m gonna have to call in some favours.
Mark: I didn’t think it would be this complicated.
Murray: Kiddo, that’s why you’re here – not to think. That’s my job. If I had a secretary, and one of those little boxes on my desk, you know, one of those like on Charlie’s Angels, I would press a button and tell my secretary – her name would be Agnes or something – I would say: Agnes, I need a new nameplate on my door. Take this down: Murray Mungden – Thinker.
Mark: Uh- okay.
Murray: But I ain’t got a secretary named Agnes, nor do I have a nameplate on the door…
Mark: Yeah, it was a little hard to find – I didn’t know I had to go in the alley, behind the…
Murray: What I do have is the answer to your needs.
Mark: You can get me Platinum Blonde for my wedding?
Murray: What?
Mark: Platinum Blonde, you know (singing) “Standing in the Dark, this could be your last mistake…”
(Murray stares at him)
Mark: I thought you were a booking agent.
Murray: I do indeed involve myself in the entertainment world – in all aspects I might add –
Mark: But your ad in the Yellow Pages said…
Murray: Do not believe everything you read my friend. (fake whispering) I spread my business out through the pages, so I get more coverage.
Mark: Yeah, I think I saw your ads under Lawyers and Hotels.
Murray: (excited) You need a place to stay?
Mark: Uh, no – just the band – you can get me Platinum Blonde right, my fiancée would just love it.
Murray: My good friend, pal, buddy –
Mark: Mark
Murray: Yes! Mark. Again, I think you’ve set your sights a little low.
Mark: Really? You can get Honeymoon Suite?
Murray: No, no, no. By low, I mean, you would have just made this beautiful sacred compact, an incredible once-in-a-lifetime (I would hope) covenant with someone you love with (I would hope) all your heart – and the opening song, the music that would herald the start of your wonderful life together – is coming from some…Plutonium Bomb or some crap?
Mark: I think I clearly said Platinum Blonde.
Murray: Mark! Zip it! Sit there and zip it! I have the answer to all your needs if you’re willing to listen. Mark, I need to know, do you want the answer. (Holds finger up to stall him.) I like you Mark – you look like a good kid – I am willing to pass on the keys to a bright future for you and your lady love – Would you like them?
Mark: I guess...
Murray: The keys Mark! (He reaches into his pocket for a set of keys) I am now holding up a set of actual keys to drive home my metaphor Mark. Would you like these keys?
Mark: Yes.
Murray: That is the correct answer Mark. You may now have the keys – the metaphorical ones – I’m housesitting for my mother and she’d kill me if I lost her only set.
Mark: So…
Murray: Patience Mark, I gotta make a phone call. (He picks up phone and dials) Yeah Ira? Ira? IRA? It’s Murray. MURRAY! Yeah, can you get over here – your skills are needed. (He hangs up phone. Then stares at Mark)
Mark: Umm…
Murray: Ah! Just wait my friend.
(Enter, half-stumbling, half-wobbling, Ira Schmetz - a very skinny old man – wearing a hat, very thick glasses, an undershirt and suspenders holding up his baggy pants)
Murray: Ira!
(Murray gets up and vigorously shakes his hand)
Ira: Murray – is the kid here?
Murray: I want you meet someone…
Ira: What?
Murray: His name’s Mark.
Ira: Mark, Moe, Messerschmitz – Who cares? (He looks at Mark) Look kid, I told you I don’t know how many times – my pastrami better be moist. Moist! Do you hear me, the last sandwich you brought me - it was like chewing through Elizabeth Taylor’s placenta – I’m an old man, I can’t chew as good as I used to – when Shlomo was running things down there – Oh my God – I could get a sandwich to die for! – You would have killed your mother for one of his sandwiches –
Murray: Ira –
Ira: For just one bite of his smoked meat bagels, you’d let a rhinoceros screw you in the ass…
Murray: IRA!
Ira: What?
Murray: This isn’t the sandwich kid.
Ira: What do you mean, this isn’t the sandwich kid? I’m hungry, it’s lunch. Why did you call me then?
Murray: This fine gentleman is getting married in a week.
Ira: Big deal! Give me his address so I know where to send the goddamn flowers.
Murray: He needs our – he needs your help.
Ira: For what?
Murray: Picture this: You got a beautiful young couple, they’re about to embark on an incredible journey together –
Ira: Are they getting married or going to the goddamn moon?
Murray: Ira – please – The hallmark for this grand occasion will be the reception. At this reception our newly married couple –
Ira: (to Mark) My wife left me for an actor – the whore took everything –
Murray: IRA! Our newly married couple will take to the dance floor to not just any music, but –
Ira: But –
Murray: (waving his hands for emphasis) Not just any music –
Ira: Ooohh! I got it!
Murray: (to Mark) See, what did I tell you.
Ira: (to Mark) I didn’t order Pastrami today, I wanted Egg Salad – even though it gives me gas like a sonafabitch – World War one style!
Murray: For Christ’s sake, he isn’t the goddamn sandwich kid.
Ira: He isn’t?
Murray: No!
Ira: Well, where’s my damn sandwich?
Murray: The kid needs music for his wedding!
Ira: Oh, well, just come out and say it next time. Okay (he slaps his hands together) give me the goods.
Mark: (looking very out of his depth) Uh – well my fiancée was big fan of Platinum Blonde –
Ira: Kid, I wasn’t talking to you. You see this foot? (he gingerly holds up his foot) This is the foot that kicked Jolsen in the balls. Twice. If you don’t want the same foot shoved up your ass, you’ll sit there and only speak when spoken to.
(Pause. Ira looks to Murray)
Ira: Murray, could you give me a hand…my foot…
(Murray helps Ira get his foot down)
Mark: (to Murray) Who is this guy?
Murray: (trying to simultaneously placate Ira) Mark, this is THE Ira Schmetz.
Mark: Who?
Murray: Schmetz! Ira Schmetz!
(Mark shrugs)
Murray: (to Ira) Kids these days eh?
Ira: And no sandwich.
Murray: Enough with the freaking sandwich!
(Ira braces himself and starts to raise his foot)
Murray: Alright, alright…Mark. Ira Schmetz is the greatest musical talent the modern world has ever known.
Mark: By modern you mean…1920’s?
Ira: My foot – your ass!
Murray: Settle down. This man has created more hits for the stage and screen than you can imagine. You remember “My Girl Maisie?”
Mark: Huh?
Murray: C’mon! “My Girl Maisie”! Ah geez…(singing)
“My Girl Maisie, she wore the daisies –
In her bright blonde hair,
She would make do,
With her heart oh so blue,
That’s my Maisie!”
Mark: Uh…
Murray: How about: (he gets up and grooves) “The Blue Comet, you know yer on it – when yer gal is gone from yer side!”
(Mark looks at his watch)
Murray: What about “The Steeltown shuffle?”
(Mark shakes his head)
Murray: “Make Mine Murgatroyd”?
Mark: No
Murray: “Choo-choo the Dancing Chinese Boy”?
Mark: Definitely not.
Murray: What about his ad work? Ira was the ultimate go-to guy in advertising. If you wanted your product’s name on the lips of the people, you called Ira.
Ira: When the bitch left, she took my good phone – I had to get one those push button things. I mean, what the hell? Does she have to notify the Times every time she gave that fag a blowjob?
Murray: Ira…
Ira: (to Mark) Though I gotta give her credit, she could suck the matzo out of a Kishke! April was a good month in the Schmetz household! Ha!
Murray: Ira, tell the kid about your ad work.
Ira: Who is this kid that I need to impress him all of sudden? Look, you little nobody, when you can say you’ve had your head buried in between Lana Turner’s tits –
Murray: Ira, this is a client! My client. A client who needs your help. A client who will hopefully give me some money – which I can then pass some on to you. You still have late fees on that movie…
Ira: (to Mark) Naughty Suffragettes 4, a classic!
Mark: Uhh, his ads?
Murray: Right, Ira had this one, I tell you – no word of a lie, everyone was humming this one! If commercials could chart this woulda been number 1 for years!
Mark: Really?
Murray: You bet, give him a sample Ira.
Ira: (bracing himself for a little soft shoe) Okie-doke!
“When the moon does shine,
And the winds do blow…
And things just need to be right..
There’s no need to fret,
Cause your very best bet –
Is Murphy’s Anthracite!
Oh yeah - Its Murphy’s An-thra-cite!”
Mark: Wait a second, isn’t anthracite coal? Are you telling me his hit was for a coal commercial?
Ira: Hey, that kept Murphy’s kids fed for years. Boy, was his wife fat. Weird thing though, you could bounce a quarter off her ass. You’d lose a few dollars, but what a way to spend an afternoon…
(Mark gets up to leave)
Murray: Mark, pal, where are you going? Our incredible journey has yet to begin.
Mark: No offence, but your friend is a little past his time.
Ira: You sonofabitch! (he puts up his fists) You know how many Irish I punched out?
Murray: Ira! Down! Mark! Sit!
(Ira backs off and Mark sits down)
Murray: And for the record Ira, the only picked fights with people who were already unconscious.
Ira: And they all deserved it.
(Murray makes “zip it” motion)
Murray: Look, I feel like I need to see this young man walk out of this office satisfied. There is nothing more truly touching, than two young people willing to make that wonderful decision to spend the rest of their lives together.
(Murray forestalls whatever Ira was about to say)
Murray: As they walk towards each other in their wedded bliss. He, dressed to the nines in his tux – she, a gorgeous wonder in extravagance – they look deeply in each other eyes. The crowd can feel palpable waves of joy, exuberance and indeed love, pour from the newly married couple. Our Mark takes his wife’s hand – porcelain delicate – plants his feet into position and waves a gloved –
(Mark grimaces and shakes his head)
Murray: Okay no gloves. Mark makes a strong, noble and precise gesture to the band – and they begin playing – softly at first – then the room is filled with this musical – what – energy! – you could power a city block with this shit – everyone is one edge – something is tugging at their very souls as they watch the couple gracefully – like goddamn swans – glide around the room. Then – when it feels like it can’t get any more beautiful – a man walks up to the mic – He looks like Paul Anka, before he went all old and crazy, and then he sings…
(Ira who has been caught up in the image, gets up and sings)
Ira: “I'm walking on air
But love isn't fair
There's no rules
If this is the case
That look on your face
Let me feel your sweet embrace…”
Mark: Wait! Wait a second…those lyrics are familiar.
Ira: Yeah, I wrote it for Merman, but she was usually too blitzed to sing it. I tell ya, she could pound ‘em back…This one time she was under the table…
Mark: No, that’s Platinum Blonde! Connect Me! It’s from their ’87 album Contact!
Ira: Meh, goddamn hacks, like I remember where my songs went. Nobody’s original anymore. I wrote that one in five minutes on the shitter.
Mark: You wrote that? Really? Oh my God, my wife would just die!
Ira: Kid, you’d be better off.
Murray: So, gentlemen, is this the start of something wonderful or what.
Ira: (after a pause) I still want my sandwich.
Murray: Okay, this is the thing.
Mark: Okay…
Murray: To get this to the next level. We need to go here.
(Murray puts his hand in the air)
Murray: Are you following me? No? Look, right now you’re here. (He puts his hand just above the desk) We need to go here. (He raises his hand high). Here. (moves hand) Here. (moves hand) I think I’m gonna have to call in some favours.
Mark: I didn’t think it would be this complicated.
Murray: Kiddo, that’s why you’re here – not to think. That’s my job. If I had a secretary, and one of those little boxes on my desk, you know, one of those like on Charlie’s Angels, I would press a button and tell my secretary – her name would be Agnes or something – I would say: Agnes, I need a new nameplate on my door. Take this down: Murray Mungden – Thinker.
Mark: Uh- okay.
Murray: But I ain’t got a secretary named Agnes, nor do I have a nameplate on the door…
Mark: Yeah, it was a little hard to find – I didn’t know I had to go in the alley, behind the…
Murray: What I do have is the answer to your needs.
Mark: You can get me Platinum Blonde for my wedding?
Murray: What?
Mark: Platinum Blonde, you know (singing) “Standing in the Dark, this could be your last mistake…”
(Murray stares at him)
Mark: I thought you were a booking agent.
Murray: I do indeed involve myself in the entertainment world – in all aspects I might add –
Mark: But your ad in the Yellow Pages said…
Murray: Do not believe everything you read my friend. (fake whispering) I spread my business out through the pages, so I get more coverage.
Mark: Yeah, I think I saw your ads under Lawyers and Hotels.
Murray: (excited) You need a place to stay?
Mark: Uh, no – just the band – you can get me Platinum Blonde right, my fiancée would just love it.
Murray: My good friend, pal, buddy –
Mark: Mark
Murray: Yes! Mark. Again, I think you’ve set your sights a little low.
Mark: Really? You can get Honeymoon Suite?
Murray: No, no, no. By low, I mean, you would have just made this beautiful sacred compact, an incredible once-in-a-lifetime (I would hope) covenant with someone you love with (I would hope) all your heart – and the opening song, the music that would herald the start of your wonderful life together – is coming from some…Plutonium Bomb or some crap?
Mark: I think I clearly said Platinum Blonde.
Murray: Mark! Zip it! Sit there and zip it! I have the answer to all your needs if you’re willing to listen. Mark, I need to know, do you want the answer. (Holds finger up to stall him.) I like you Mark – you look like a good kid – I am willing to pass on the keys to a bright future for you and your lady love – Would you like them?
Mark: I guess...
Murray: The keys Mark! (He reaches into his pocket for a set of keys) I am now holding up a set of actual keys to drive home my metaphor Mark. Would you like these keys?
Mark: Yes.
Murray: That is the correct answer Mark. You may now have the keys – the metaphorical ones – I’m housesitting for my mother and she’d kill me if I lost her only set.
Mark: So…
Murray: Patience Mark, I gotta make a phone call. (He picks up phone and dials) Yeah Ira? Ira? IRA? It’s Murray. MURRAY! Yeah, can you get over here – your skills are needed. (He hangs up phone. Then stares at Mark)
Mark: Umm…
Murray: Ah! Just wait my friend.
(Enter, half-stumbling, half-wobbling, Ira Schmetz - a very skinny old man – wearing a hat, very thick glasses, an undershirt and suspenders holding up his baggy pants)
Murray: Ira!
(Murray gets up and vigorously shakes his hand)
Ira: Murray – is the kid here?
Murray: I want you meet someone…
Ira: What?
Murray: His name’s Mark.
Ira: Mark, Moe, Messerschmitz – Who cares? (He looks at Mark) Look kid, I told you I don’t know how many times – my pastrami better be moist. Moist! Do you hear me, the last sandwich you brought me - it was like chewing through Elizabeth Taylor’s placenta – I’m an old man, I can’t chew as good as I used to – when Shlomo was running things down there – Oh my God – I could get a sandwich to die for! – You would have killed your mother for one of his sandwiches –
Murray: Ira –
Ira: For just one bite of his smoked meat bagels, you’d let a rhinoceros screw you in the ass…
Murray: IRA!
Ira: What?
Murray: This isn’t the sandwich kid.
Ira: What do you mean, this isn’t the sandwich kid? I’m hungry, it’s lunch. Why did you call me then?
Murray: This fine gentleman is getting married in a week.
Ira: Big deal! Give me his address so I know where to send the goddamn flowers.
Murray: He needs our – he needs your help.
Ira: For what?
Murray: Picture this: You got a beautiful young couple, they’re about to embark on an incredible journey together –
Ira: Are they getting married or going to the goddamn moon?
Murray: Ira – please – The hallmark for this grand occasion will be the reception. At this reception our newly married couple –
Ira: (to Mark) My wife left me for an actor – the whore took everything –
Murray: IRA! Our newly married couple will take to the dance floor to not just any music, but –
Ira: But –
Murray: (waving his hands for emphasis) Not just any music –
Ira: Ooohh! I got it!
Murray: (to Mark) See, what did I tell you.
Ira: (to Mark) I didn’t order Pastrami today, I wanted Egg Salad – even though it gives me gas like a sonafabitch – World War one style!
Murray: For Christ’s sake, he isn’t the goddamn sandwich kid.
Ira: He isn’t?
Murray: No!
Ira: Well, where’s my damn sandwich?
Murray: The kid needs music for his wedding!
Ira: Oh, well, just come out and say it next time. Okay (he slaps his hands together) give me the goods.
Mark: (looking very out of his depth) Uh – well my fiancée was big fan of Platinum Blonde –
Ira: Kid, I wasn’t talking to you. You see this foot? (he gingerly holds up his foot) This is the foot that kicked Jolsen in the balls. Twice. If you don’t want the same foot shoved up your ass, you’ll sit there and only speak when spoken to.
(Pause. Ira looks to Murray)
Ira: Murray, could you give me a hand…my foot…
(Murray helps Ira get his foot down)
Mark: (to Murray) Who is this guy?
Murray: (trying to simultaneously placate Ira) Mark, this is THE Ira Schmetz.
Mark: Who?
Murray: Schmetz! Ira Schmetz!
(Mark shrugs)
Murray: (to Ira) Kids these days eh?
Ira: And no sandwich.
Murray: Enough with the freaking sandwich!
(Ira braces himself and starts to raise his foot)
Murray: Alright, alright…Mark. Ira Schmetz is the greatest musical talent the modern world has ever known.
Mark: By modern you mean…1920’s?
Ira: My foot – your ass!
Murray: Settle down. This man has created more hits for the stage and screen than you can imagine. You remember “My Girl Maisie?”
Mark: Huh?
Murray: C’mon! “My Girl Maisie”! Ah geez…(singing)
“My Girl Maisie, she wore the daisies –
In her bright blonde hair,
She would make do,
With her heart oh so blue,
That’s my Maisie!”
Mark: Uh…
Murray: How about: (he gets up and grooves) “The Blue Comet, you know yer on it – when yer gal is gone from yer side!”
(Mark looks at his watch)
Murray: What about “The Steeltown shuffle?”
(Mark shakes his head)
Murray: “Make Mine Murgatroyd”?
Mark: No
Murray: “Choo-choo the Dancing Chinese Boy”?
Mark: Definitely not.
Murray: What about his ad work? Ira was the ultimate go-to guy in advertising. If you wanted your product’s name on the lips of the people, you called Ira.
Ira: When the bitch left, she took my good phone – I had to get one those push button things. I mean, what the hell? Does she have to notify the Times every time she gave that fag a blowjob?
Murray: Ira…
Ira: (to Mark) Though I gotta give her credit, she could suck the matzo out of a Kishke! April was a good month in the Schmetz household! Ha!
Murray: Ira, tell the kid about your ad work.
Ira: Who is this kid that I need to impress him all of sudden? Look, you little nobody, when you can say you’ve had your head buried in between Lana Turner’s tits –
Murray: Ira, this is a client! My client. A client who needs your help. A client who will hopefully give me some money – which I can then pass some on to you. You still have late fees on that movie…
Ira: (to Mark) Naughty Suffragettes 4, a classic!
Mark: Uhh, his ads?
Murray: Right, Ira had this one, I tell you – no word of a lie, everyone was humming this one! If commercials could chart this woulda been number 1 for years!
Mark: Really?
Murray: You bet, give him a sample Ira.
Ira: (bracing himself for a little soft shoe) Okie-doke!
“When the moon does shine,
And the winds do blow…
And things just need to be right..
There’s no need to fret,
Cause your very best bet –
Is Murphy’s Anthracite!
Oh yeah - Its Murphy’s An-thra-cite!”
Mark: Wait a second, isn’t anthracite coal? Are you telling me his hit was for a coal commercial?
Ira: Hey, that kept Murphy’s kids fed for years. Boy, was his wife fat. Weird thing though, you could bounce a quarter off her ass. You’d lose a few dollars, but what a way to spend an afternoon…
(Mark gets up to leave)
Murray: Mark, pal, where are you going? Our incredible journey has yet to begin.
Mark: No offence, but your friend is a little past his time.
Ira: You sonofabitch! (he puts up his fists) You know how many Irish I punched out?
Murray: Ira! Down! Mark! Sit!
(Ira backs off and Mark sits down)
Murray: And for the record Ira, the only picked fights with people who were already unconscious.
Ira: And they all deserved it.
(Murray makes “zip it” motion)
Murray: Look, I feel like I need to see this young man walk out of this office satisfied. There is nothing more truly touching, than two young people willing to make that wonderful decision to spend the rest of their lives together.
(Murray forestalls whatever Ira was about to say)
Murray: As they walk towards each other in their wedded bliss. He, dressed to the nines in his tux – she, a gorgeous wonder in extravagance – they look deeply in each other eyes. The crowd can feel palpable waves of joy, exuberance and indeed love, pour from the newly married couple. Our Mark takes his wife’s hand – porcelain delicate – plants his feet into position and waves a gloved –
(Mark grimaces and shakes his head)
Murray: Okay no gloves. Mark makes a strong, noble and precise gesture to the band – and they begin playing – softly at first – then the room is filled with this musical – what – energy! – you could power a city block with this shit – everyone is one edge – something is tugging at their very souls as they watch the couple gracefully – like goddamn swans – glide around the room. Then – when it feels like it can’t get any more beautiful – a man walks up to the mic – He looks like Paul Anka, before he went all old and crazy, and then he sings…
(Ira who has been caught up in the image, gets up and sings)
Ira: “I'm walking on air
But love isn't fair
There's no rules
If this is the case
That look on your face
Let me feel your sweet embrace…”
Mark: Wait! Wait a second…those lyrics are familiar.
Ira: Yeah, I wrote it for Merman, but she was usually too blitzed to sing it. I tell ya, she could pound ‘em back…This one time she was under the table…
Mark: No, that’s Platinum Blonde! Connect Me! It’s from their ’87 album Contact!
Ira: Meh, goddamn hacks, like I remember where my songs went. Nobody’s original anymore. I wrote that one in five minutes on the shitter.
Mark: You wrote that? Really? Oh my God, my wife would just die!
Ira: Kid, you’d be better off.
Murray: So, gentlemen, is this the start of something wonderful or what.
Ira: (after a pause) I still want my sandwich.
Sketch: Murray
(Murray sits behind desk, in a loud suit – slowly revolving a cigar around his mouth. He stares intently at another man, seated in chair in front of him.)
(Silence for a few moments. Other man shuffles uncomfortably)
Murray: (abrupt) That’s it! I freakin’ got it!
Dan: Er…yes?
Murray: Stick with me here.
(He starts to emphatically move his hands as he speaks)
Murray: We start on a shot of the outside of a church, it ain’t fancy, but it’s got a small town charm, maybe a there’s a tire swing out front – Oooo yeah, that’s freakin’ good – we jump to the tire swing – it’s moving in a light breeze – Bam! – jump to the front doors of the church, they open all on their own – Eh, eh? – the camera zooms, and I mean freakin’ flies down the aisle right to the altar – and Bam! There’s your family perfectly centered – then Bam! Tight shot on your face – Bam! Tight shot on your wife’s face – your both looking in the same direction – Where are you looking at? - Bam! Tight shot on a young kid’s hands in prayer – Bam! Tight shot on the kid’s eyes – They’re looking up – What are they looking at? Bam! Tight shot on the goddamn crucifix on the freakin’ back wall! Holy Shit that’s good! We do the whole thing with that shaky handheld shit everyone’s doing – it adds drama turst me – once we get all the tape into production we fray the edges and throw in some random flares so it looks like a freakin ancient camera! Yes! Now for background music – I was thinking of starting out with a soft “Saturday in the Park” that fades into some punchy freakin’ Italian opera shit. The music hits its…its…what the shit…crescendo! Yeah! It hits the crescendo on the shot of the cross…Alright…alright…now I got a good line on a crane for the last shot when you all come out…
Dan: Excuse me?
Murray: Don’t worry, you won’t have lines – way more effective with the music – trust me…
Dan: This is great and all, but I just wanted someone to take pictures of my son’s first communion.
Murray: I don’t take pictures, I make “film”, I make lasting memories, far better than you could remember or imagine them yourself!
Dan: Maybe we have a misunderstanding here, I just want a couple of professional pictures. That’s all.
(silence for a moment)
Murray: What’s wrong with you?
Dan: I…
Murray: I asked, what’s wrong with you. We’re not talking about some fucking picnic in the park. Your son is going through a momentous religious transformation. And all you want is a couple of glossies for your mantel?
Dan: Well…
Murray: No, fuck that. And fuck you, if you don’t care about your son.
Dan: Hey now…
Murray: Dan, I liked you when you came in here. You looked like a good honest person. Someone who puts on their socks one at a time you know. A real person. But now, I don’t know what to think…
Dan: I just want…
Murray: No, I’m upset now.
(silence)
Dan: Look, sir, can I…
Murray: You want to know what’s going to happen? Cause you don’t give a shit?
(Dan tries to answer)
Murray: Look at me. Look at me. Be quiet and look – at – me. Picture this: A simple shot of you and your kid playing catch – Bam! – You behind your kid as he blows out candles on a birthday cake – Bam! - Your teaching your son to ride a bike, you push off – the camera pans up to your face – slow zoom onto your eyes – What is that? Is that pride? Is it sadness? Is IT LOSS? We slowly zoom out and your old now, maybe 50 – 60, there are lines on your face, you look like shit – we slowly – zoom out and you’re standing there in the exact same position, same street, - you’re alone – Where’s your wife? – Who the fuck knows! She’s gone! – You’re looking in the same direction your son went, and your holding – Wait for it – your son’s bike! – Dangling from one fucking hand! - The camera starts leaving you – until you get smaller and smaller – fucking Cat’s in the Cradle playing in the background - then fade from view – Black!
Dan: Uh…
Murray: When are you gonna start to care. This happens only once in your kids life!
Dan: I just want pictures!
Murray: Sweet Jesus! How fucking clear do I need to be? If you don’t start giving a damn about this upcoming religious epiphany your son’s going to have, then you’re gonna get exactly what you deserve. Opening shot – your house – light, soft piano music – we slowly move to the front door – the camera goes right through it like it wasn’t there – Yeah! A ghost door – that’s fucking good – think about that one, it’s a metaphor! The camera starts going around the house, into rooms, into hallways, upstairs, everywhere. And there’s barely anything on the walls – we zoom into a couple of family pictures – only for a shaky second – there’s hardly any furniture – Who lives in this dump? – We go into the kitchen – there’s dirty dishes all over the counter – like really disgusting - and there YOU are – you’re sitting down at a bare kitchen table with a glass – no, fuck that – a bottle - of whiskey – no, vodka – no ,fuck that – Listerine! Yeah! – you’re taking shot after shot – in between each shot we flash back to a memory of your life – a shot – Bam! – you and your wife kissing at your wedding – Bam! – You down another shot – Bam! – Your kid is born, you’re holding him in your arms – Bam! – you take another shot – Bam! – Your kid is pedaling away from you – Another shot – Bam! – you and your wife are at your kids grave – Bam! – Another shot – Your wife arguing with you, she leaves out the door – then just as the door is slamming shut we cut to you slamming your hand down on the table – instead of the shot glass, it’s a fucking GUN! You…
Dan: Stop! Stop! Enough with the drama…
Murray: Life is drama pal!
Dan: You are a nutjob!
(Dan leaves)
Murray: It’s your loss! I’m trying to help you!
(pause)
Murray: Soft focus, wide shot of a man – no a genius sitting in his office. Grainy light is filtering through a dirty window. We cut to a tight shot of his phone, no calls, no messages. Cut to a shot of his eyes, steely grey – but tired – no haunted. Cut to follow his hand as it goes down to stub out his cigar in a dirty ashtray. Cut back to the wide shot – he gets up – grabs his jacket and hat from the back of the chair – doesn’t even have a coatrack. He goes to the door of his office, open it, and looks back – quick shot to his face – he smiles – but there’s no humour in it whatsoever – cue nice light music.
(nice light music)
Murray: Cut to a shot of him standing in the doorway – Where’s he gonna go? – Home to his two cats and an empty apartment – He stands there for a moment – puts on his hat
(fade to black)
Murray: Fade to black
(Silence for a few moments. Other man shuffles uncomfortably)
Murray: (abrupt) That’s it! I freakin’ got it!
Dan: Er…yes?
Murray: Stick with me here.
(He starts to emphatically move his hands as he speaks)
Murray: We start on a shot of the outside of a church, it ain’t fancy, but it’s got a small town charm, maybe a there’s a tire swing out front – Oooo yeah, that’s freakin’ good – we jump to the tire swing – it’s moving in a light breeze – Bam! – jump to the front doors of the church, they open all on their own – Eh, eh? – the camera zooms, and I mean freakin’ flies down the aisle right to the altar – and Bam! There’s your family perfectly centered – then Bam! Tight shot on your face – Bam! Tight shot on your wife’s face – your both looking in the same direction – Where are you looking at? - Bam! Tight shot on a young kid’s hands in prayer – Bam! Tight shot on the kid’s eyes – They’re looking up – What are they looking at? Bam! Tight shot on the goddamn crucifix on the freakin’ back wall! Holy Shit that’s good! We do the whole thing with that shaky handheld shit everyone’s doing – it adds drama turst me – once we get all the tape into production we fray the edges and throw in some random flares so it looks like a freakin ancient camera! Yes! Now for background music – I was thinking of starting out with a soft “Saturday in the Park” that fades into some punchy freakin’ Italian opera shit. The music hits its…its…what the shit…crescendo! Yeah! It hits the crescendo on the shot of the cross…Alright…alright…now I got a good line on a crane for the last shot when you all come out…
Dan: Excuse me?
Murray: Don’t worry, you won’t have lines – way more effective with the music – trust me…
Dan: This is great and all, but I just wanted someone to take pictures of my son’s first communion.
Murray: I don’t take pictures, I make “film”, I make lasting memories, far better than you could remember or imagine them yourself!
Dan: Maybe we have a misunderstanding here, I just want a couple of professional pictures. That’s all.
(silence for a moment)
Murray: What’s wrong with you?
Dan: I…
Murray: I asked, what’s wrong with you. We’re not talking about some fucking picnic in the park. Your son is going through a momentous religious transformation. And all you want is a couple of glossies for your mantel?
Dan: Well…
Murray: No, fuck that. And fuck you, if you don’t care about your son.
Dan: Hey now…
Murray: Dan, I liked you when you came in here. You looked like a good honest person. Someone who puts on their socks one at a time you know. A real person. But now, I don’t know what to think…
Dan: I just want…
Murray: No, I’m upset now.
(silence)
Dan: Look, sir, can I…
Murray: You want to know what’s going to happen? Cause you don’t give a shit?
(Dan tries to answer)
Murray: Look at me. Look at me. Be quiet and look – at – me. Picture this: A simple shot of you and your kid playing catch – Bam! – You behind your kid as he blows out candles on a birthday cake – Bam! - Your teaching your son to ride a bike, you push off – the camera pans up to your face – slow zoom onto your eyes – What is that? Is that pride? Is it sadness? Is IT LOSS? We slowly zoom out and your old now, maybe 50 – 60, there are lines on your face, you look like shit – we slowly – zoom out and you’re standing there in the exact same position, same street, - you’re alone – Where’s your wife? – Who the fuck knows! She’s gone! – You’re looking in the same direction your son went, and your holding – Wait for it – your son’s bike! – Dangling from one fucking hand! - The camera starts leaving you – until you get smaller and smaller – fucking Cat’s in the Cradle playing in the background - then fade from view – Black!
Dan: Uh…
Murray: When are you gonna start to care. This happens only once in your kids life!
Dan: I just want pictures!
Murray: Sweet Jesus! How fucking clear do I need to be? If you don’t start giving a damn about this upcoming religious epiphany your son’s going to have, then you’re gonna get exactly what you deserve. Opening shot – your house – light, soft piano music – we slowly move to the front door – the camera goes right through it like it wasn’t there – Yeah! A ghost door – that’s fucking good – think about that one, it’s a metaphor! The camera starts going around the house, into rooms, into hallways, upstairs, everywhere. And there’s barely anything on the walls – we zoom into a couple of family pictures – only for a shaky second – there’s hardly any furniture – Who lives in this dump? – We go into the kitchen – there’s dirty dishes all over the counter – like really disgusting - and there YOU are – you’re sitting down at a bare kitchen table with a glass – no, fuck that – a bottle - of whiskey – no, vodka – no ,fuck that – Listerine! Yeah! – you’re taking shot after shot – in between each shot we flash back to a memory of your life – a shot – Bam! – you and your wife kissing at your wedding – Bam! – You down another shot – Bam! – Your kid is born, you’re holding him in your arms – Bam! – you take another shot – Bam! – Your kid is pedaling away from you – Another shot – Bam! – you and your wife are at your kids grave – Bam! – Another shot – Your wife arguing with you, she leaves out the door – then just as the door is slamming shut we cut to you slamming your hand down on the table – instead of the shot glass, it’s a fucking GUN! You…
Dan: Stop! Stop! Enough with the drama…
Murray: Life is drama pal!
Dan: You are a nutjob!
(Dan leaves)
Murray: It’s your loss! I’m trying to help you!
(pause)
Murray: Soft focus, wide shot of a man – no a genius sitting in his office. Grainy light is filtering through a dirty window. We cut to a tight shot of his phone, no calls, no messages. Cut to a shot of his eyes, steely grey – but tired – no haunted. Cut to follow his hand as it goes down to stub out his cigar in a dirty ashtray. Cut back to the wide shot – he gets up – grabs his jacket and hat from the back of the chair – doesn’t even have a coatrack. He goes to the door of his office, open it, and looks back – quick shot to his face – he smiles – but there’s no humour in it whatsoever – cue nice light music.
(nice light music)
Murray: Cut to a shot of him standing in the doorway – Where’s he gonna go? – Home to his two cats and an empty apartment – He stands there for a moment – puts on his hat
(fade to black)
Murray: Fade to black
What's Up article: Karma
Enough about comedy, let’s talk about karma.
And just to clarify, I’m not talking about the "Law of Karma" that is central in Dharmic religions. No, I’ll be opining on the general wishy-washy karmic philosophies of the general public.
Let me start out by saying that there is absolutely nothing wrong with believing in things like holding open doors for people will grant you a reward in your future. I know quite a few people who firmly accept that picking up hitchhikers will mean they’ll have better success when they decide to poke their thumb out on the road. And the list of such examples goes on.
So why do so many people, who generally go through their lives following an empirical method, choose to accept the existence of karma?
If one were to take a few logical steps beyond the simple formula of: “I do something nice = something nice happens to me”, you’ll arrive to some interesting metaphysical realms.
Obviously, if you do indeed believe in karma (even in its general sense), you have to accept that there is some objective cosmic force keeping an eye on all these checks and balances. Would it not be in your best interest to examine or even reflect on what this outside force is?
Karma usually comes up in conversation when one has wronged you. “What goes around, comes around”, is an extremely popular saying, and one that ties directly into the wishy-washy kind of karma.
Wishing or hoping that something ill will happen to someone that has done harm to you doesn’t sound like a healthy karmic attitude. The same could be said about the reverse, where doing good deeds will offer some reward in the future. This is likely not what Dharmic believers have in mind when it comes to karma.
Putting stock in an ethereal force to take care of your comeuppance sounds a little ridiculous when you think about it. And yet, few people do.
Again, there’s nothing wrong with that, but then, why hold a belief system you don’t bother to examine or even understand?
Of course you’re perfectly free to not bother, but it just seems lazy. If you are perfectly comfortable with having a general disinterest of how your belief system works, great. I think at least admitting that much would one some good.
I know it takes a lot of mental work to hold down an objective belief system, likely why I don’t have one, and why most folks enjoy their lazy karma.
So yes, I’m also guilty of holding down vague beliefs, but I’m not naïve enough to assume that I could lock down a personal philosophy without the research. I generally cringe at the thought of holding down an objective belief system (it’s the free-will advocate in me). At least, I can honestly admit my spiritual wishy-washy-ness works for me.
I have firmly decided on thing though. Everything I choose to believe could be completely wrong. Trust me, this really helps my amicable disposition.
So, if you really want to ditch the concept of altruism and subscribe to the karmic bank of consequence, that’s perfectly fine. Making the step to admit you don’t care about your beliefs is heading in a better direction, than not bothering to do anything at all.Hmm, maybe I should’ a talked about comedy.
And just to clarify, I’m not talking about the "Law of Karma" that is central in Dharmic religions. No, I’ll be opining on the general wishy-washy karmic philosophies of the general public.
Let me start out by saying that there is absolutely nothing wrong with believing in things like holding open doors for people will grant you a reward in your future. I know quite a few people who firmly accept that picking up hitchhikers will mean they’ll have better success when they decide to poke their thumb out on the road. And the list of such examples goes on.
So why do so many people, who generally go through their lives following an empirical method, choose to accept the existence of karma?
If one were to take a few logical steps beyond the simple formula of: “I do something nice = something nice happens to me”, you’ll arrive to some interesting metaphysical realms.
Obviously, if you do indeed believe in karma (even in its general sense), you have to accept that there is some objective cosmic force keeping an eye on all these checks and balances. Would it not be in your best interest to examine or even reflect on what this outside force is?
Karma usually comes up in conversation when one has wronged you. “What goes around, comes around”, is an extremely popular saying, and one that ties directly into the wishy-washy kind of karma.
Wishing or hoping that something ill will happen to someone that has done harm to you doesn’t sound like a healthy karmic attitude. The same could be said about the reverse, where doing good deeds will offer some reward in the future. This is likely not what Dharmic believers have in mind when it comes to karma.
Putting stock in an ethereal force to take care of your comeuppance sounds a little ridiculous when you think about it. And yet, few people do.
Again, there’s nothing wrong with that, but then, why hold a belief system you don’t bother to examine or even understand?
Of course you’re perfectly free to not bother, but it just seems lazy. If you are perfectly comfortable with having a general disinterest of how your belief system works, great. I think at least admitting that much would one some good.
I know it takes a lot of mental work to hold down an objective belief system, likely why I don’t have one, and why most folks enjoy their lazy karma.
So yes, I’m also guilty of holding down vague beliefs, but I’m not naïve enough to assume that I could lock down a personal philosophy without the research. I generally cringe at the thought of holding down an objective belief system (it’s the free-will advocate in me). At least, I can honestly admit my spiritual wishy-washy-ness works for me.
I have firmly decided on thing though. Everything I choose to believe could be completely wrong. Trust me, this really helps my amicable disposition.
So, if you really want to ditch the concept of altruism and subscribe to the karmic bank of consequence, that’s perfectly fine. Making the step to admit you don’t care about your beliefs is heading in a better direction, than not bothering to do anything at all.Hmm, maybe I should’ a talked about comedy.
Sketch: Buddy Cops
Buddy Cops
(Two men are sitting in an office. One man is looking through reams of papers, twirling a pencil in his hands. The other man is leaning in his chair staring at the other. Both are extremely fidgety. All the following dialogue goes at a very rapid pace.)
Man in chair - 1: Ok?
Other man - 2: (agreeing) Ok.
1: (agreeing) Ok.
2: (preparing to tackle the task) O-K.
1: (full agreement) Ok!
2: (starting the task) Oh – K!
1: Buddy Cops!
2: Buddy Cops.
1: (over pronouncing) Bud-dy Cops.
2: (agreeing) Buddy Cops.
1: So?
2. (Nodding his head for punctuation while reading) Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
1: Eh? Eh?
2: (Nodding more with more enthusiasm) Yes. Yes. Yes.
1: What did I tell you?
2: You told me.
1: Didn’t I tell you?
2: You told me!
1.: I told you!
2: (motioning to script) Hot!
1: (agreeing) Very hot.
2: Scorching!
1: (reaching over to touch script) Ouch! That’s hot!
2: (suddenly noticing something) Whoa!
1: What?
2: Whoa!
1: What?
2: No.
1: What?
2: (gesturing to paper) Don’t like this.
1: Don’t like what?
2: Don’t like this!
1: Don’t like what?!
2: (throws papers over) That!
1: (Quickly looking) Ooooo.
2: Yeah.
1: Ouch.
2: Yeah.
1: Eeeesh.
2: Uh-huh.
1: Cut it?
2: Cut it!
1: (throws a piece of paper away) Gone!
(pause as they both have a sip of coffee)
2: (pickup a stack of headshots) Next!
1: Next!
2: (starts looking through photos) No. No. No.
(1 is just nodding along)
2: No. No. Mayyybe. No. No. No. Yes!
(1 looks up expectantly)
2: (passing photo) Look!
1: Nice!
2: Uh-huh!
1: Very nice.
2: Perfect?
1: Perfect.
2: Okay – lead – done!
1: He’s the lead!
2: Lead-o-rama!
1: Now the tough one…
2: The Partner!
1: Partner.
2: Okay….
1: Ok.
2: (shuffling though photos) I dunno.
1: You dunno.
2: I dunno!
1: Well, if you dunno?
2: (Holds up lead photo) White cop…?
1: (searching) Black cop?
2: (looking affronted) Been done.
1: White cop…Chinese cop?
2: Been done.
1: No, that was Black cop – Chinese cop.
2: Damn.
1: White cop – Japanese cop?
2: Nah.
1: White cop – Indian cop?
2: Indian?
1: Yeah.
2: Like India Indian?
1: Yeah.
2: No.
1: Ok.
2: Wait a sec.
1: I’m waiting.
2: (building) Hold the phone.
1: (grabs cell phone in pocket) Phone held.
2: Stop the presses.
1: (reaches over to push intercom) Gail, do we have presses? Stop them.
2: Oh, and a sandwich.
1: Stop the sandwich?
2: No, sandwich, eat, lunch.
1: Eat lunch, got it. (presses intercom) Gail, lunch, sandwiches.
2: (back in moment) What about (pausing for effect)
1: What?
2: (stretching it out) What about…
1: What Jesus what?
2: White cop – Woman Cop!
1: Whoa!
2: Bam!
1: Holy Shit!
2: Yeah!
1: Outta nowhere!
2: You didn’t see it, did you?
1: No way!
2: You didn’t see it coming!
1: Left field – sun in eyes – Wham!
2: Alright, but who?
(Gail enters, a tough looking, no-nonsense kinda gal. She drops the sandwiches on the table.)
Gail: Damn it, I tell ya, it’s tough being a carrer-oriented, outspoken, tough-as-nails single mom – who’s doing the goddamn best she can to raise her kids, while just trying to do the goddamn best she can at her job – in the only way she knows how - hers.
(Pause)
Gail: Egg salad’s on the left.
(Gail exits. Both guys sit there for a long moment.)
1: (reaches over and throws away lead headshot) Woman cop? –
2: Woman cop! Yeah, and?
1: Woman Cop, Black Cop!
2: Whoa!
1: Yeah!
2: Social Commentary! Hell-oooo!
(Both reach over and enthusiasticaly shake hands. 1 reaches over and presses intercom.)
1: Gail, you don’t have an agent do you?
(Gail shouts from door)
Gail: Goddamnit no!
1&2: Nice.
(Black)
(Two men are sitting in an office. One man is looking through reams of papers, twirling a pencil in his hands. The other man is leaning in his chair staring at the other. Both are extremely fidgety. All the following dialogue goes at a very rapid pace.)
Man in chair - 1: Ok?
Other man - 2: (agreeing) Ok.
1: (agreeing) Ok.
2: (preparing to tackle the task) O-K.
1: (full agreement) Ok!
2: (starting the task) Oh – K!
1: Buddy Cops!
2: Buddy Cops.
1: (over pronouncing) Bud-dy Cops.
2: (agreeing) Buddy Cops.
1: So?
2. (Nodding his head for punctuation while reading) Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
1: Eh? Eh?
2: (Nodding more with more enthusiasm) Yes. Yes. Yes.
1: What did I tell you?
2: You told me.
1: Didn’t I tell you?
2: You told me!
1.: I told you!
2: (motioning to script) Hot!
1: (agreeing) Very hot.
2: Scorching!
1: (reaching over to touch script) Ouch! That’s hot!
2: (suddenly noticing something) Whoa!
1: What?
2: Whoa!
1: What?
2: No.
1: What?
2: (gesturing to paper) Don’t like this.
1: Don’t like what?
2: Don’t like this!
1: Don’t like what?!
2: (throws papers over) That!
1: (Quickly looking) Ooooo.
2: Yeah.
1: Ouch.
2: Yeah.
1: Eeeesh.
2: Uh-huh.
1: Cut it?
2: Cut it!
1: (throws a piece of paper away) Gone!
(pause as they both have a sip of coffee)
2: (pickup a stack of headshots) Next!
1: Next!
2: (starts looking through photos) No. No. No.
(1 is just nodding along)
2: No. No. Mayyybe. No. No. No. Yes!
(1 looks up expectantly)
2: (passing photo) Look!
1: Nice!
2: Uh-huh!
1: Very nice.
2: Perfect?
1: Perfect.
2: Okay – lead – done!
1: He’s the lead!
2: Lead-o-rama!
1: Now the tough one…
2: The Partner!
1: Partner.
2: Okay….
1: Ok.
2: (shuffling though photos) I dunno.
1: You dunno.
2: I dunno!
1: Well, if you dunno?
2: (Holds up lead photo) White cop…?
1: (searching) Black cop?
2: (looking affronted) Been done.
1: White cop…Chinese cop?
2: Been done.
1: No, that was Black cop – Chinese cop.
2: Damn.
1: White cop – Japanese cop?
2: Nah.
1: White cop – Indian cop?
2: Indian?
1: Yeah.
2: Like India Indian?
1: Yeah.
2: No.
1: Ok.
2: Wait a sec.
1: I’m waiting.
2: (building) Hold the phone.
1: (grabs cell phone in pocket) Phone held.
2: Stop the presses.
1: (reaches over to push intercom) Gail, do we have presses? Stop them.
2: Oh, and a sandwich.
1: Stop the sandwich?
2: No, sandwich, eat, lunch.
1: Eat lunch, got it. (presses intercom) Gail, lunch, sandwiches.
2: (back in moment) What about (pausing for effect)
1: What?
2: (stretching it out) What about…
1: What Jesus what?
2: White cop – Woman Cop!
1: Whoa!
2: Bam!
1: Holy Shit!
2: Yeah!
1: Outta nowhere!
2: You didn’t see it, did you?
1: No way!
2: You didn’t see it coming!
1: Left field – sun in eyes – Wham!
2: Alright, but who?
(Gail enters, a tough looking, no-nonsense kinda gal. She drops the sandwiches on the table.)
Gail: Damn it, I tell ya, it’s tough being a carrer-oriented, outspoken, tough-as-nails single mom – who’s doing the goddamn best she can to raise her kids, while just trying to do the goddamn best she can at her job – in the only way she knows how - hers.
(Pause)
Gail: Egg salad’s on the left.
(Gail exits. Both guys sit there for a long moment.)
1: (reaches over and throws away lead headshot) Woman cop? –
2: Woman cop! Yeah, and?
1: Woman Cop, Black Cop!
2: Whoa!
1: Yeah!
2: Social Commentary! Hell-oooo!
(Both reach over and enthusiasticaly shake hands. 1 reaches over and presses intercom.)
1: Gail, you don’t have an agent do you?
(Gail shouts from door)
Gail: Goddamnit no!
1&2: Nice.
(Black)
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Sketch: Second Guess!
Second Guess!
(Typical game show set up. Three “booths” are set up with extra stand for host. There is a board to the side. The three contestants are already eagerly waiting the beginning of the show.)
Announcer: From Carmacks to Port Alberni everyone agrees – it’s the most exciting five minutes of public broadcasting around – Welcome to Second Guess! And now the host of Second Guess – only 12 and half hours away from finishing his community service – Arnold “Arnie” Germain!
(Arnie comes leaping out on stage, blowing kisses, winking at the camera and generally mugging. He’s a bizarre mix of flamboyance, cheapness and drunkenness. Think Reverend Jim from Taxi meets Elton John)
Arnie: (likely drunk) Well whizzoo! We’re back for another exciting round of “Second Guess”, let’s skip the shitty banter and meet our contestants. Eh?
(He leaps over to the contestant area, almost knocking it over.)
Arnie: Am I too fast for you camera 2? Fucking community college rejects…
(He goes to first contestant. An Afro clad, sunglasses wearing man.)
Arnie: So – what’s your handle kiddo?
Fontaine: I am - Fontaine Sledgehammer.
Arnie: And what do you do to make the bread Fontaine?
Fontaine: I’m a court sketch artist.
Arnie: Sounds fascinating…
Fontaine: Oh it is, like last week – there was this guy who was in for selling cigarettes to a minor and he was like all standing up and shouting: “Yeah, well she looked nineteen!” and the judge was like all “You sit down, this is a courtroom!”. I think I really caught the essence of the drama.
Arnie: Wheee.
(Arnie moves to the next person. An older woman, dressed in rumpled opulence.)
Arnie: No need for introductions here, we have the star of the Granger Dinner Theatre Association – Mavis Mendenhall!
Mavis: Arnie! It’s truly delightful to be here – (she looks directly at audience) And I hope to see you all at our latest production: “Murder at Bernie’s Race Track Gas”, starring yours truly. Remember, bring your gas receipts and you get 5% off!
Arnie: Fan-fucking-tastic!
(He moves on. It’s Mike Ellis.)
Arnie: You know the drill…
Mike: Hi. (He looks around as if he’s not sure what camera to look in.) My name is Mike Ellis, I’m a city planner and I love the CFL – go Riders!
Arnie: Jesus…
(Arnie wanders over to his stand. There is the sound of a jalopy horn.)
Arnie: The Aaooooga means it’s time to start – Second Guess! Let’s have a look at our categories.
(An unkempt man, smoking a cigarette, wanders lazily over to the board and slides the cheap cardboard blocking the categories.)
Arnie: Our first category is: “Nautical Nonsense”
(The man reveals the category.)
Arnie: “Home Cooking”
(Again, the man reveals the category)
Arnie: “These Bands Suck”
(The man takes a long drag, then reveals category)
Arnie: “Way to go Larry”
(Next revealed)
Arnie: And “Two Tickets to Pittsburg” Fontaine, you were last weeks champion with a grand total of 25 dollars, a couple of scratch and wins and a coffee mug – so choose a category.
Fontaine: Yes, indeed, I am on a roll. I’ll take “Home Cooking” Arnie.
Arnie: Hoookay, this is a picture puzzle – Larry if you could?
(Larry, the revealer, grabs a large, mashed piece of paper from his pocket, smoothes it out on his pants and shows it. It is a picture of a wok.)
Arnie: Alright Fontaine, what the hell is that?
Fontaine: Oooo, I’m all right, I’m all right – you know, my middle name is Bring It On.
Arnie: That’s retarded.
Fontaine: Yo, I’m thinking here. All right, I know what it is. My other girlfriend Chaniqua threw one of those at me just yesterday, lemme tell ya they ain’t aerodynamic. Heheheheheh. That Arnie, my fine friend, is a wok! A Chinese motherfuckin’ cooking wok!
Arnie: Larry, start the clock!
(Larry grabs a wall clock from behind the board and stares at it. Ticking SFX)
Arnie: So Fontaine, you think that’s a wok?
Fonatine: Yes Arnie.
Arnie: You’re positive?
Fontaine: Yes.
Arnie: You are absolutely sure? There’s an awful lot of cooking hardware out there.
Fontaine: Uhhh…
Arnie: I mean, they’re inventing new cooking stuff every day. Are you really, truly sure this is a wok?
Fonatine: Well yeah, uh, I mean…
(Ticking SFX gets louder)
Fontaine: Shit! I mean, no…but…Damn! It’s a crock pot!
(SFX - Buzzer)
Arnie: I’m sorry Fontaine, but it was a wok.
(SFX – Waaah-Waaaaah)
Fontaine: Damn!!
Arnie: Mavis?
Mavis: Yes, darling?
Arnie: Your next, pick a category, and make it snappy would ya?
Mavis: Well, I studied long and hard to play my role in last years production of “Hey Don’t Do That! Murder at CHON FM”, so I’ll take “These Bands Suck” please and thank you Arnie.
Arnie: This is sound clue, so Larry, you know the drill…
(Larry gets up from a lawn chair, grabs a ghetto blaster and tries to play it)
Arnie: Today Larry…
(Larry gives Arnie the finger as he continues to fiddle. He finally gets it to play. Nickelback starts to play.)
Mavis: Oh my, yes. Yes. This is familiar. I have heard these brooding tones before – they evoke a memory of driving somewhere, in the rain, with my…
Arnie: Just make a goddamn guess!
Mavis: I’ll say Nickelback.
Arnie: Start the clock!
(SFX – Ticking clock. Larry looks at clock)
Arnie: You sure about that Mavis?
Mavis: Well, I…
Arnie: Mavis, there’s a lot of music that sounds a lot like this. Are you positive? Larry, could you turn it up?
(Larry does so)
Mavis: Gosh…I…
Arnie: I don’t usually listen to this shit, it all sounds the same to me you know…Theory of a Deadman, Hinder…
(SFX – Ticking Clock gets louder)
Mavis: Oh my, ah…um…no, I’m staying with Nickelback.
Arnie: Oookay, if you’re absolutely sure…
Mavis: Yes…I
Arnie: That’s perfectly fine…if you want to go with your first answer…
Mavis: Damn you Arnie! Nickelback! Nickelback!
(SFX – buzzer)
Arnie: (feigning sadness) Well, Mavis – I’m so sorry…
Mavis: What? You son of a bitch! I know I was right!
Arnie: I’m so sorry, but you’re RIGHT!
(SFX – DingDingDing!)
Mavis: (composing herself) Oh my! Oh my goodness, (looks at audience) I am so happy to receive this honour, I would like to thank my mentor the great Luba –
Arnie: Mavis relax, this is going to be a long week. Mike! You’re next, pick a category.
Mike: All right, I’ll take “Nautical Nonsense” for 100$ Arnie. Hahahaha…
Arnie: You’re fucking hilarious…Alright this is a trivia question, are you ready?
Mike: As I’ll ever be Arnie!
Arnie: Quit saying my name.
Mike: Sorry.
Arnie: Okay: The RMS Titanic was designed to dominate trans-Atlantic travel at the beginning of the 20th century – so – For how many seconds can you see Kate Winslet’s tits?
Mike: (coming out of deep thought) Er…what? Did you say tits?
Fontaine: Yeah man.
(Fontaine goes to high-five Mavis. She doesn’t)
Arnie: Start the clock!
Mike: But, that’s not a fair question!
Arnie: It’s trivia Mike, didn’t you see Titanic?
Mike: I own it!
Arnie: Well then (he waggles his eyebrows)…Start the clock!
(Larry starts clock)
(SFX-Ticking)
Mike: I didn’t even give a first answer!
Arnie: Didn’t you?
Mike: No!
Arnie: I thought I heard you say something. Sounded like two. Did you say two?
Mike: I didn’t say anything!
Arnie: Larry, did you hear two?
(Larry shrugs)
Mavis: I heard something. I’m a good listener, you know, “stage presence”?
(She indicates herself)
Mike: What the hell? Do you know what stage presence means?
Mavis: Well, I…Answer your own question!
Arnie: Yeah, answer your question, you sticking with two?
(SFX – Ticking gets louder)
Mike: But I didn’t…Shit! Ah…Christ…Okay, okay…She’s in the hold with Leo, he’s drawing…Aww…Damn!
Arnie: Like the annoying sound effect is indicating, the clock is ticking!
Mike: But, but…Grrrr…
(Mike looks at the audience)
Mike: Sorry Kathleen.
(Mike looks back to Arnie)
Mike: 3
(SFX – Buzzer)
Arnie: That is correct Mike! Congratulations!
(SFX – Siren)
Arnie: Unless the building’s on fire (he crosses his fingers), that means our time is up! Join us again on the freaking thrill ride adventure we call – Second Guess!
(SFX – End music)
(He walks over to Larry to bum a smoke. Fontaine and Mavis chat. Mike runs to center, looks at audience and gives a big Dating Game kiss)
Arnie: You fucking moron, that’s copywrited! We’ll get our asses sued!
(Arnie chases Mike around set and off.)
Fin.
(Typical game show set up. Three “booths” are set up with extra stand for host. There is a board to the side. The three contestants are already eagerly waiting the beginning of the show.)
Announcer: From Carmacks to Port Alberni everyone agrees – it’s the most exciting five minutes of public broadcasting around – Welcome to Second Guess! And now the host of Second Guess – only 12 and half hours away from finishing his community service – Arnold “Arnie” Germain!
(Arnie comes leaping out on stage, blowing kisses, winking at the camera and generally mugging. He’s a bizarre mix of flamboyance, cheapness and drunkenness. Think Reverend Jim from Taxi meets Elton John)
Arnie: (likely drunk) Well whizzoo! We’re back for another exciting round of “Second Guess”, let’s skip the shitty banter and meet our contestants. Eh?
(He leaps over to the contestant area, almost knocking it over.)
Arnie: Am I too fast for you camera 2? Fucking community college rejects…
(He goes to first contestant. An Afro clad, sunglasses wearing man.)
Arnie: So – what’s your handle kiddo?
Fontaine: I am - Fontaine Sledgehammer.
Arnie: And what do you do to make the bread Fontaine?
Fontaine: I’m a court sketch artist.
Arnie: Sounds fascinating…
Fontaine: Oh it is, like last week – there was this guy who was in for selling cigarettes to a minor and he was like all standing up and shouting: “Yeah, well she looked nineteen!” and the judge was like all “You sit down, this is a courtroom!”. I think I really caught the essence of the drama.
Arnie: Wheee.
(Arnie moves to the next person. An older woman, dressed in rumpled opulence.)
Arnie: No need for introductions here, we have the star of the Granger Dinner Theatre Association – Mavis Mendenhall!
Mavis: Arnie! It’s truly delightful to be here – (she looks directly at audience) And I hope to see you all at our latest production: “Murder at Bernie’s Race Track Gas”, starring yours truly. Remember, bring your gas receipts and you get 5% off!
Arnie: Fan-fucking-tastic!
(He moves on. It’s Mike Ellis.)
Arnie: You know the drill…
Mike: Hi. (He looks around as if he’s not sure what camera to look in.) My name is Mike Ellis, I’m a city planner and I love the CFL – go Riders!
Arnie: Jesus…
(Arnie wanders over to his stand. There is the sound of a jalopy horn.)
Arnie: The Aaooooga means it’s time to start – Second Guess! Let’s have a look at our categories.
(An unkempt man, smoking a cigarette, wanders lazily over to the board and slides the cheap cardboard blocking the categories.)
Arnie: Our first category is: “Nautical Nonsense”
(The man reveals the category.)
Arnie: “Home Cooking”
(Again, the man reveals the category)
Arnie: “These Bands Suck”
(The man takes a long drag, then reveals category)
Arnie: “Way to go Larry”
(Next revealed)
Arnie: And “Two Tickets to Pittsburg” Fontaine, you were last weeks champion with a grand total of 25 dollars, a couple of scratch and wins and a coffee mug – so choose a category.
Fontaine: Yes, indeed, I am on a roll. I’ll take “Home Cooking” Arnie.
Arnie: Hoookay, this is a picture puzzle – Larry if you could?
(Larry, the revealer, grabs a large, mashed piece of paper from his pocket, smoothes it out on his pants and shows it. It is a picture of a wok.)
Arnie: Alright Fontaine, what the hell is that?
Fontaine: Oooo, I’m all right, I’m all right – you know, my middle name is Bring It On.
Arnie: That’s retarded.
Fontaine: Yo, I’m thinking here. All right, I know what it is. My other girlfriend Chaniqua threw one of those at me just yesterday, lemme tell ya they ain’t aerodynamic. Heheheheheh. That Arnie, my fine friend, is a wok! A Chinese motherfuckin’ cooking wok!
Arnie: Larry, start the clock!
(Larry grabs a wall clock from behind the board and stares at it. Ticking SFX)
Arnie: So Fontaine, you think that’s a wok?
Fonatine: Yes Arnie.
Arnie: You’re positive?
Fontaine: Yes.
Arnie: You are absolutely sure? There’s an awful lot of cooking hardware out there.
Fontaine: Uhhh…
Arnie: I mean, they’re inventing new cooking stuff every day. Are you really, truly sure this is a wok?
Fonatine: Well yeah, uh, I mean…
(Ticking SFX gets louder)
Fontaine: Shit! I mean, no…but…Damn! It’s a crock pot!
(SFX - Buzzer)
Arnie: I’m sorry Fontaine, but it was a wok.
(SFX – Waaah-Waaaaah)
Fontaine: Damn!!
Arnie: Mavis?
Mavis: Yes, darling?
Arnie: Your next, pick a category, and make it snappy would ya?
Mavis: Well, I studied long and hard to play my role in last years production of “Hey Don’t Do That! Murder at CHON FM”, so I’ll take “These Bands Suck” please and thank you Arnie.
Arnie: This is sound clue, so Larry, you know the drill…
(Larry gets up from a lawn chair, grabs a ghetto blaster and tries to play it)
Arnie: Today Larry…
(Larry gives Arnie the finger as he continues to fiddle. He finally gets it to play. Nickelback starts to play.)
Mavis: Oh my, yes. Yes. This is familiar. I have heard these brooding tones before – they evoke a memory of driving somewhere, in the rain, with my…
Arnie: Just make a goddamn guess!
Mavis: I’ll say Nickelback.
Arnie: Start the clock!
(SFX – Ticking clock. Larry looks at clock)
Arnie: You sure about that Mavis?
Mavis: Well, I…
Arnie: Mavis, there’s a lot of music that sounds a lot like this. Are you positive? Larry, could you turn it up?
(Larry does so)
Mavis: Gosh…I…
Arnie: I don’t usually listen to this shit, it all sounds the same to me you know…Theory of a Deadman, Hinder…
(SFX – Ticking Clock gets louder)
Mavis: Oh my, ah…um…no, I’m staying with Nickelback.
Arnie: Oookay, if you’re absolutely sure…
Mavis: Yes…I
Arnie: That’s perfectly fine…if you want to go with your first answer…
Mavis: Damn you Arnie! Nickelback! Nickelback!
(SFX – buzzer)
Arnie: (feigning sadness) Well, Mavis – I’m so sorry…
Mavis: What? You son of a bitch! I know I was right!
Arnie: I’m so sorry, but you’re RIGHT!
(SFX – DingDingDing!)
Mavis: (composing herself) Oh my! Oh my goodness, (looks at audience) I am so happy to receive this honour, I would like to thank my mentor the great Luba –
Arnie: Mavis relax, this is going to be a long week. Mike! You’re next, pick a category.
Mike: All right, I’ll take “Nautical Nonsense” for 100$ Arnie. Hahahaha…
Arnie: You’re fucking hilarious…Alright this is a trivia question, are you ready?
Mike: As I’ll ever be Arnie!
Arnie: Quit saying my name.
Mike: Sorry.
Arnie: Okay: The RMS Titanic was designed to dominate trans-Atlantic travel at the beginning of the 20th century – so – For how many seconds can you see Kate Winslet’s tits?
Mike: (coming out of deep thought) Er…what? Did you say tits?
Fontaine: Yeah man.
(Fontaine goes to high-five Mavis. She doesn’t)
Arnie: Start the clock!
Mike: But, that’s not a fair question!
Arnie: It’s trivia Mike, didn’t you see Titanic?
Mike: I own it!
Arnie: Well then (he waggles his eyebrows)…Start the clock!
(Larry starts clock)
(SFX-Ticking)
Mike: I didn’t even give a first answer!
Arnie: Didn’t you?
Mike: No!
Arnie: I thought I heard you say something. Sounded like two. Did you say two?
Mike: I didn’t say anything!
Arnie: Larry, did you hear two?
(Larry shrugs)
Mavis: I heard something. I’m a good listener, you know, “stage presence”?
(She indicates herself)
Mike: What the hell? Do you know what stage presence means?
Mavis: Well, I…Answer your own question!
Arnie: Yeah, answer your question, you sticking with two?
(SFX – Ticking gets louder)
Mike: But I didn’t…Shit! Ah…Christ…Okay, okay…She’s in the hold with Leo, he’s drawing…Aww…Damn!
Arnie: Like the annoying sound effect is indicating, the clock is ticking!
Mike: But, but…Grrrr…
(Mike looks at the audience)
Mike: Sorry Kathleen.
(Mike looks back to Arnie)
Mike: 3
(SFX – Buzzer)
Arnie: That is correct Mike! Congratulations!
(SFX – Siren)
Arnie: Unless the building’s on fire (he crosses his fingers), that means our time is up! Join us again on the freaking thrill ride adventure we call – Second Guess!
(SFX – End music)
(He walks over to Larry to bum a smoke. Fontaine and Mavis chat. Mike runs to center, looks at audience and gives a big Dating Game kiss)
Arnie: You fucking moron, that’s copywrited! We’ll get our asses sued!
(Arnie chases Mike around set and off.)
Fin.
Sketch: The Moses Series
(Moses gets shoved onto the stage. Isaac follows)
Moses: Quit pushing!
Isaac: Don’t wuss out on me man, you said you’d do it.
Moses: Yeah, but he’s kinda touchy these days.
Isaac: Dude, you friggin owe me!
Moses: For what?
Isaac: When that bush lit on fire, and you were totally screaming like a girl, and running around freaking out. I figured out it was God! You totally thought you were tripping …
Moses: All right, all right…
Isaac: That wasn’t even peyote man, it was a chunk of camel poop you picked up off the ground…
Moses: Shut up!
(Moses moves to center)
Moses: (clears throat and says quietly) hey god, you there? (to Isaac) I don’t think he’s around, we should come back later, I’ll leave him a note.
Isaac: (threatening) Duuude!
Moses: Fine! Hey God!
(light appears on Moses)
God: Yes, Moses.
Moses: Everything okay? All is copasetic up there? How’s the weather? Hahahahaha.
God: Moses, please.
Moses: Okay. Sorry.
God: No need to apologize Moses.
Moses: Cool, cool…
Isaac: Quit stalling!
Moses: Well, we’ve all been talking, and I was wondering if you could do something about the Egyptians. I mean they’ve been really putting the boots to my –
Isaac: Our!
Moses: -our people. And since we all know those Egyptian gods are total wusses -
Isaac: Except for Set.
Moses: What?
Isaac: Set. Jackal head, all black. Creepy man.
Moses: Dude?
Isaac: I’m just sayin’.
Moses: Yeah, anyhow, if you might be feeling in a smitey kinda mood. Maybe, you might consider, you know, (Moses uses quote fingers) “layin’ the smack down”, on those evil, evil Egyptians.
(pause)
Moses: Unless you have something else you’d rather be doing. I don’t want to presume you have a clear slate. Cause, hey, you have to run a whole universe, that can’t be easy. (to Isaac) You think that’s easy?
Isaac: (bored) Heck no.
Moses: Man, could you show a little more respect? We’re in front of the Creator.
Isaac: Hey, it’s a long walk up the mountain, in sandals. And you don’t even say a friggin word the whole way, you’re just wringing your hands and mumbling to yourself.
Moses: Well, why did you come anyway?
(Isaac shrugs)
Moses: Man, you’re such a pain –
God: MOSES!
Moses: Ummm. Sorry.
God: Moses, sometimes I wonder. I really do. You people…sigh…Fine.
Moses: Wha? Fine? Does that mean you’ll show them Egyptians what for?
God: I’ll see what I can do to ease the suffering of the Chosen People.
Moses: God! That’s why you are the one and true! Thanks so much! (as a cheer) Yah-weh!
(Light goes out)
Moses: Phew, that wasn’t so bad.
Isaac: That’s it?
Moses: I guess so.
Isaac: I walked all the way here for that?
Moses: Our God is gonna take care of those oppressive Egyptians!
Isaac: Whatever. (leaving) At least it’s downhill.
Moses: (leaving) Why do you have to be so negative?
(Black)
2.
(Lights up on bare stage. God’s spotlight is already on.)
God: Moses, I know you’re there.
(Moses and Isaac stumble in carrying a coffee tray and donut box)
Moses: H-Hey! Can’t fool you, eh? (to Isaac) What did I tell you? He always knows!
Isaac: Which one’s mine?
Moses: What? Can’t you wait a sec, God’s here.
Isaac: I got the Vanilla Frap, it should be easy to find.
Moses: Dude! Hey God, gotcha a tall mocha, triple shot, no whip – just as you like it. We swung by the bakery, gotta baker’s dozen of Moishe’s best! I told him we were seeing you, he threw in a couple extra. (He puts down coffee, and opens box) We got some glazed, old-fashoined, chocolate dip, some jelly-filled – strawberry and lemon – even a bearcla- Hey, where’s the bearclaw? (He looks at Isaac)
Isaac: What? It’s a long walk!
Moses: You could’a waited.
Isaac: Just gimme my coffee.
Moses: Here (he passes him a coffee) So God! You wanna chocolate –
God: Moses! What do you want this time!?!
Moses: Uh, sure, sure. Lemme just put this down. Okay. (pause) You sure you don’t want a glazed, it’s natural honey. Moishe gets ‘em from a –
God: Moses. Last time I was really perturbed – I flooded the entire Earth. Moses, do you want me to be perturbed?
Moses: No sir.
God: Then, I would suggest you get to a point.
Moses: Right! Okay, we’re here obviously for a very important reason. This is a subject that we would only bring up if it was of a dire importance. We fully realize –
Isaac: Hey.
Moses: Buddy! I’m trying to talk here.
Isaac: This isn’t my coffee. (He holds it up.)
Moses: What??
Isaac: I said Vanilla Frap! It’s the cold one. Lemme look through these others.
(Isaac roots through the coffees. Thunder and lightning boom)
Moses: Ah! Sorry.
God: Just say what you want, please.
Moses: Cool, cool…
Isaac: Just ask him already!
Moses: Alright! God, we wanted to talk to you about the whole plagues thing you got going on.
God: Yes?
Moses: Well, everythings cool with us, we’re all very impressed down here. The river to blood – what an opener, then the reptiles and bugs – oh man! – plus the boils!
Isaac: Those were gross man!
Moses: Yeah, you really got the Egyptians totally freaking out. But I gotta say, the hail – mixed with the fire – that was freaking amazing! (to Isaac) Was that not freakin’ amazing?
Isaac: Yeah, yeah – ask him already.
Moses: (whisper) I’m getting to it…Hey, those locusts were crazy. Them flying around, antenna waving, and the chittering noises and the crunch they made when you stepped…
God: Moses! What-do-you-want?
(Isaac moves closer to Moses)
Moses: Um, well, with all these plagues going around, Isaac…
(Isaac nudges Moses)
Isaac: A friend!
Moses: Right. A friend of mine wanted to know, with everything happening, did you – er – did you give him herpes?
God: (long exasperated sigh) You know Moses, I’m a patient kind of guy. The whole “seventh” day he rested and all that.
Moses: Yeah.
God: Well, you’re really ruining my day off with your bullshit..
Moses: What do you…oh…Well, you know what? We’ve kept you long enough, we’ll find our own way down the mountain, ok? (Goes to leave)
Isaac: (to Moses) But I how am I gonna…?
Moses: DUDE! We’re outta here!
(Moses leaves)
God: Isaac, come here.
(Isaac slides over)
Isaac: Yeah?
God: I didn’t give you herpes.
Isaac: Well shit, then it was Eloise! The bitch…
God: (sigh) Isaac.
Isaac: Yeah?
God: Stop touching yourself, it’ll spread.
Isaac: Oh. Thanks God.
(Isaac leaves)
(pause)
God: Dipshit.
(Black)
3.
(Moses and Isaac enter, Isaac is carrying two heavy tablets.)
Isaac: Can I put these down, they’re heavy.
Moses: Not yet, I gotta find the place.
Isaac: Are we close?
Moses: Yeah, at least I think so…
Isaac: How come you can’t take one of these?
Moses: Cause I’m looking for the exact spot, it was all dark and stormy last time.
Isaac: Yeah, well you could hurry a little, my arms are gonna fall off.
Moses: Wait a sec, I think this is it.
Isaac: Thank you…
(Isaac puts the tablets down)
Moses: No wait, maybe it’s over here…
Isaac: I ain’t moving these.
Moses: Fine, fine.
(Isaac sits down on the tablets and starts rubbing his arms, back. Moses plants himself and looks to the heavens.)
Moses: Okay, remember, you’re backing me on this…
Isaac: Yeah, yeah…
Moses: Okay, here goes…God! God? You there?
(a single spot appears on Moses. A voice appears in the air.)
God: Yes Moses?
Moses: (covering eyes) Ah, a little too bright there, mortal eyes…would you mind?…
(the light dims)
Moses: Thank you Lord. So…how’s it going?
God: Just fine Moses.
Moses: Yup, yup, yup. And all’s good up there?
God: Yes Moses.
Moses: Great – um – did you get the Thank you card I sent?
God: Pillar of Salt - Moses.
Isaac: Yeah, c’mon already.
Moses: Right, my point. Well, God, your magnificence – As you know, I am your humble servant. I carried out what you asked of me. I took the tablets down and announced your word to the people.
God: And?
Moses: Well everything is great n’ all. Everyone certainly appreciates all the work you put into them. Really nice tabletmanship –
God: But?
Moses: Well –
(Isaac comes over and nudges him)
Isaac: C’mon…
Moses: Dude!
Isaac: I got your back! (thumbs up)
Moses: Okay okay. God we have a problem with some of the commandments.
God: Oh?
Moses: Yeah, well, I came down and delivered the ten commandments, exactly like you asked. Then we went through each one and kinda banged them out.
God: Banged them out?
Moses: Well you know, we just all wanna be clear on the whole thing.
God: Clear?
Moses: Yeah, it’s not like they aren’t concise. It’s just we all wanna make sure about a few things.
God: Like what?
Moses: Well, we are totally in agreement about the whole false idols thing.
Isaac: Those golden calves are gone!
Moses: Gone!
Isaac: I sold all mine last week!
(Moses nudges Isaac to shush him)
Moses: No killing, I think we can all agree on that, right.
Isaac: Well…
Moses: What?
Isaac: Those Egyptians are assholes…
Moses: Hey, language!
Isaac: Well they are!
Moses: Okay, we need some clarification on the killing thing.
Isaac: And the no stealing thing.
Moses: Yeah…
Isaac: Cause there’s this dude that totally owes me, and I told him – if you don’t pay me back by Thursday I’m taking a camel.
Moses: There’s a lotta grey zones in that one.
Isaac: Oh, and the coveting one!
Moses: Yeah…
Isaac: Cause I’ve been banging my neighbors wife for the past two years…
Moses: DUDE!
Isaac: What? And hey, this was totally before we got these commandments right? So like everything before is totally void – right? Like a grandfather clause or something. How could we have known it was wrong before you told us?! Right, it would like be sooo not fair to punish us for stuff we did before we knew we shouldn’t be doing it.
(Moses looks horrified)
Moses: Uh…yeah…
(SFX – Loud thunder, lightning flash)
God: (counting to himself) 1-2-3-4-5….
Moses: Well, you know what, maybe it is all pretty clear. Tell you what, I’ll just bring these back, we’ll go over them again – no problem okay. Sorry to bother you, we just didn’t review them all that well or something – right. It’s all good. We’re all good. (to Isaac) It’s good right?
Isaac: It’s good.
Moses: See. Well, talk to you later! Thanks .
(Light goes out. Pause.)
Isaac: How did we make it across a friggin desert with you in charge?
Moses: You know what – Fuck you!
(Moses gets in Isaac’s face, but then backs off, walks away)
Isaac: You’re such a pussy.
(Black)
Moses: Quit pushing!
Isaac: Don’t wuss out on me man, you said you’d do it.
Moses: Yeah, but he’s kinda touchy these days.
Isaac: Dude, you friggin owe me!
Moses: For what?
Isaac: When that bush lit on fire, and you were totally screaming like a girl, and running around freaking out. I figured out it was God! You totally thought you were tripping …
Moses: All right, all right…
Isaac: That wasn’t even peyote man, it was a chunk of camel poop you picked up off the ground…
Moses: Shut up!
(Moses moves to center)
Moses: (clears throat and says quietly) hey god, you there? (to Isaac) I don’t think he’s around, we should come back later, I’ll leave him a note.
Isaac: (threatening) Duuude!
Moses: Fine! Hey God!
(light appears on Moses)
God: Yes, Moses.
Moses: Everything okay? All is copasetic up there? How’s the weather? Hahahahaha.
God: Moses, please.
Moses: Okay. Sorry.
God: No need to apologize Moses.
Moses: Cool, cool…
Isaac: Quit stalling!
Moses: Well, we’ve all been talking, and I was wondering if you could do something about the Egyptians. I mean they’ve been really putting the boots to my –
Isaac: Our!
Moses: -our people. And since we all know those Egyptian gods are total wusses -
Isaac: Except for Set.
Moses: What?
Isaac: Set. Jackal head, all black. Creepy man.
Moses: Dude?
Isaac: I’m just sayin’.
Moses: Yeah, anyhow, if you might be feeling in a smitey kinda mood. Maybe, you might consider, you know, (Moses uses quote fingers) “layin’ the smack down”, on those evil, evil Egyptians.
(pause)
Moses: Unless you have something else you’d rather be doing. I don’t want to presume you have a clear slate. Cause, hey, you have to run a whole universe, that can’t be easy. (to Isaac) You think that’s easy?
Isaac: (bored) Heck no.
Moses: Man, could you show a little more respect? We’re in front of the Creator.
Isaac: Hey, it’s a long walk up the mountain, in sandals. And you don’t even say a friggin word the whole way, you’re just wringing your hands and mumbling to yourself.
Moses: Well, why did you come anyway?
(Isaac shrugs)
Moses: Man, you’re such a pain –
God: MOSES!
Moses: Ummm. Sorry.
God: Moses, sometimes I wonder. I really do. You people…sigh…Fine.
Moses: Wha? Fine? Does that mean you’ll show them Egyptians what for?
God: I’ll see what I can do to ease the suffering of the Chosen People.
Moses: God! That’s why you are the one and true! Thanks so much! (as a cheer) Yah-weh!
(Light goes out)
Moses: Phew, that wasn’t so bad.
Isaac: That’s it?
Moses: I guess so.
Isaac: I walked all the way here for that?
Moses: Our God is gonna take care of those oppressive Egyptians!
Isaac: Whatever. (leaving) At least it’s downhill.
Moses: (leaving) Why do you have to be so negative?
(Black)
2.
(Lights up on bare stage. God’s spotlight is already on.)
God: Moses, I know you’re there.
(Moses and Isaac stumble in carrying a coffee tray and donut box)
Moses: H-Hey! Can’t fool you, eh? (to Isaac) What did I tell you? He always knows!
Isaac: Which one’s mine?
Moses: What? Can’t you wait a sec, God’s here.
Isaac: I got the Vanilla Frap, it should be easy to find.
Moses: Dude! Hey God, gotcha a tall mocha, triple shot, no whip – just as you like it. We swung by the bakery, gotta baker’s dozen of Moishe’s best! I told him we were seeing you, he threw in a couple extra. (He puts down coffee, and opens box) We got some glazed, old-fashoined, chocolate dip, some jelly-filled – strawberry and lemon – even a bearcla- Hey, where’s the bearclaw? (He looks at Isaac)
Isaac: What? It’s a long walk!
Moses: You could’a waited.
Isaac: Just gimme my coffee.
Moses: Here (he passes him a coffee) So God! You wanna chocolate –
God: Moses! What do you want this time!?!
Moses: Uh, sure, sure. Lemme just put this down. Okay. (pause) You sure you don’t want a glazed, it’s natural honey. Moishe gets ‘em from a –
God: Moses. Last time I was really perturbed – I flooded the entire Earth. Moses, do you want me to be perturbed?
Moses: No sir.
God: Then, I would suggest you get to a point.
Moses: Right! Okay, we’re here obviously for a very important reason. This is a subject that we would only bring up if it was of a dire importance. We fully realize –
Isaac: Hey.
Moses: Buddy! I’m trying to talk here.
Isaac: This isn’t my coffee. (He holds it up.)
Moses: What??
Isaac: I said Vanilla Frap! It’s the cold one. Lemme look through these others.
(Isaac roots through the coffees. Thunder and lightning boom)
Moses: Ah! Sorry.
God: Just say what you want, please.
Moses: Cool, cool…
Isaac: Just ask him already!
Moses: Alright! God, we wanted to talk to you about the whole plagues thing you got going on.
God: Yes?
Moses: Well, everythings cool with us, we’re all very impressed down here. The river to blood – what an opener, then the reptiles and bugs – oh man! – plus the boils!
Isaac: Those were gross man!
Moses: Yeah, you really got the Egyptians totally freaking out. But I gotta say, the hail – mixed with the fire – that was freaking amazing! (to Isaac) Was that not freakin’ amazing?
Isaac: Yeah, yeah – ask him already.
Moses: (whisper) I’m getting to it…Hey, those locusts were crazy. Them flying around, antenna waving, and the chittering noises and the crunch they made when you stepped…
God: Moses! What-do-you-want?
(Isaac moves closer to Moses)
Moses: Um, well, with all these plagues going around, Isaac…
(Isaac nudges Moses)
Isaac: A friend!
Moses: Right. A friend of mine wanted to know, with everything happening, did you – er – did you give him herpes?
God: (long exasperated sigh) You know Moses, I’m a patient kind of guy. The whole “seventh” day he rested and all that.
Moses: Yeah.
God: Well, you’re really ruining my day off with your bullshit..
Moses: What do you…oh…Well, you know what? We’ve kept you long enough, we’ll find our own way down the mountain, ok? (Goes to leave)
Isaac: (to Moses) But I how am I gonna…?
Moses: DUDE! We’re outta here!
(Moses leaves)
God: Isaac, come here.
(Isaac slides over)
Isaac: Yeah?
God: I didn’t give you herpes.
Isaac: Well shit, then it was Eloise! The bitch…
God: (sigh) Isaac.
Isaac: Yeah?
God: Stop touching yourself, it’ll spread.
Isaac: Oh. Thanks God.
(Isaac leaves)
(pause)
God: Dipshit.
(Black)
3.
(Moses and Isaac enter, Isaac is carrying two heavy tablets.)
Isaac: Can I put these down, they’re heavy.
Moses: Not yet, I gotta find the place.
Isaac: Are we close?
Moses: Yeah, at least I think so…
Isaac: How come you can’t take one of these?
Moses: Cause I’m looking for the exact spot, it was all dark and stormy last time.
Isaac: Yeah, well you could hurry a little, my arms are gonna fall off.
Moses: Wait a sec, I think this is it.
Isaac: Thank you…
(Isaac puts the tablets down)
Moses: No wait, maybe it’s over here…
Isaac: I ain’t moving these.
Moses: Fine, fine.
(Isaac sits down on the tablets and starts rubbing his arms, back. Moses plants himself and looks to the heavens.)
Moses: Okay, remember, you’re backing me on this…
Isaac: Yeah, yeah…
Moses: Okay, here goes…God! God? You there?
(a single spot appears on Moses. A voice appears in the air.)
God: Yes Moses?
Moses: (covering eyes) Ah, a little too bright there, mortal eyes…would you mind?…
(the light dims)
Moses: Thank you Lord. So…how’s it going?
God: Just fine Moses.
Moses: Yup, yup, yup. And all’s good up there?
God: Yes Moses.
Moses: Great – um – did you get the Thank you card I sent?
God: Pillar of Salt - Moses.
Isaac: Yeah, c’mon already.
Moses: Right, my point. Well, God, your magnificence – As you know, I am your humble servant. I carried out what you asked of me. I took the tablets down and announced your word to the people.
God: And?
Moses: Well everything is great n’ all. Everyone certainly appreciates all the work you put into them. Really nice tabletmanship –
God: But?
Moses: Well –
(Isaac comes over and nudges him)
Isaac: C’mon…
Moses: Dude!
Isaac: I got your back! (thumbs up)
Moses: Okay okay. God we have a problem with some of the commandments.
God: Oh?
Moses: Yeah, well, I came down and delivered the ten commandments, exactly like you asked. Then we went through each one and kinda banged them out.
God: Banged them out?
Moses: Well you know, we just all wanna be clear on the whole thing.
God: Clear?
Moses: Yeah, it’s not like they aren’t concise. It’s just we all wanna make sure about a few things.
God: Like what?
Moses: Well, we are totally in agreement about the whole false idols thing.
Isaac: Those golden calves are gone!
Moses: Gone!
Isaac: I sold all mine last week!
(Moses nudges Isaac to shush him)
Moses: No killing, I think we can all agree on that, right.
Isaac: Well…
Moses: What?
Isaac: Those Egyptians are assholes…
Moses: Hey, language!
Isaac: Well they are!
Moses: Okay, we need some clarification on the killing thing.
Isaac: And the no stealing thing.
Moses: Yeah…
Isaac: Cause there’s this dude that totally owes me, and I told him – if you don’t pay me back by Thursday I’m taking a camel.
Moses: There’s a lotta grey zones in that one.
Isaac: Oh, and the coveting one!
Moses: Yeah…
Isaac: Cause I’ve been banging my neighbors wife for the past two years…
Moses: DUDE!
Isaac: What? And hey, this was totally before we got these commandments right? So like everything before is totally void – right? Like a grandfather clause or something. How could we have known it was wrong before you told us?! Right, it would like be sooo not fair to punish us for stuff we did before we knew we shouldn’t be doing it.
(Moses looks horrified)
Moses: Uh…yeah…
(SFX – Loud thunder, lightning flash)
God: (counting to himself) 1-2-3-4-5….
Moses: Well, you know what, maybe it is all pretty clear. Tell you what, I’ll just bring these back, we’ll go over them again – no problem okay. Sorry to bother you, we just didn’t review them all that well or something – right. It’s all good. We’re all good. (to Isaac) It’s good right?
Isaac: It’s good.
Moses: See. Well, talk to you later! Thanks .
(Light goes out. Pause.)
Isaac: How did we make it across a friggin desert with you in charge?
Moses: You know what – Fuck you!
(Moses gets in Isaac’s face, but then backs off, walks away)
Isaac: You’re such a pussy.
(Black)
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