comedic validation

Return to the Horse

2009-02-27T12:03:00.001-08:00

I've decided that the Yukon is very much like the island from Lost.
I'll take a chance at frustrating people, cause I'm not going to bother to go into details, cause I think more people should watch the show. Suffice to say, there will always be a pull to go back North.
I've tried to explain to people what makes the Yukon so interesting. It really is one of those places that you need to see for yourself, to fully understand. Like Vegas - I don't care what kind of Earth Mother friendly kind of person you are, forgo thoughts of your carbon footprint, and land them feet in Las Vegas at least once. It will be impossible to regret.
See Vegas and Whitehorse, there are comparisons. Plus I've heard a lot of stories of the mob having ties to Watson Lake and a certain hunting lodge outside of Haines Junction. Not so far-fetched of a comparison perhaps.
And heed the call back North I certainly did, for Rendezvous no less.
Coasters were putting together a big re-launch of the Comedy Nights, followed by three nights of Sweet Soul Burlesque, returning for the third time to Whitehorse. All during Rendezvous.
Indeed, there was no way I was not going to be a part of that.
I flew up on a Monday, and by Tuesday, the roller coaster had started. First, Erica and I spent a great evening hanging out with Howie Miller, the comic hired by Coasters to headline the re-launch. That was the first of some very long nights.
The comedy night re-launch went over extremely well, having an entirely new audience. Chris McNutt, Al MacLoed and Tristan Hopper each had great sets, and I worked my pasty white arse off to bring a great night, culminating in a marathon of laughs from Howie.
We ended up leaving him in the room across from his, at around three in the morning, watching a long-time Rendezvous volunteer hump a rubber chicken.
Then I get a call around nine am, from Mr. Miller, asking me to come hang out in his room. Figuring five hours of sleep was enough for me, I headed over and we watched Star Trek (the original, natch) some of the Obama visit, and what I was sure was stoned people doing the Global Edmonton news.
Howie and I will meet again soon enough, he wants me to open for him when he's in Saskatoon in a couple of weeks. I'm very much looking forward to the opportunity.
The next three nights, I was a happy little worker, all for the Sweet Soul Burlesque crew. These are some fine performers, and really really genuine people. The shows were pretty epic, including performances from the MacLean sisters (a band), some dancers from the latest Varietease show and of course the evening wouldn't be complete without the Sourdough Rendezvous Can-can dancers.
This was a three-hour burlesque extravaganza. And a very classic one at that.
It was a celebration of female sexuality, but also a carnival of cheap lewdness and debauchery.
Not a lot of people can handle a real burlesque show, and what that truly entails. This was readily apparent from the person that came up to me after the show on Saturday, to tell me about how she was offended by things I said on the Thursday night. I was a little taken aback, as everything I had said, while certainly being lewd, was all a part of the show. These were lines I had rehearsed with, during the Varietease act, in which I say these lewd comments, then get summarily punished for it by the Varietease dancers. It was a pretty simple set-up, with a righteous kind of pay-off.
The funny thing was, the exact same act had been performed before at the Guild Hall, which the complainant had seen. If she wasn't offended then, why did she feel the need to say something now? Is it because it was a friend of hers saying the "offensive" comments during the Guild Shows, and now it was me?
Compounding the ridiculousness, she then told me that she would never be attending another performance of mine. This was quite funny to me, as she has never been to any of the comedy shows before this, and she very well knew that I didn't live in Whitehorse anymore.
An audience I never had, is certainly one I'll never miss.
I wasn't necessarily diplomatic about it when I shouted: "Like I *%$@ing care!"
But, I had a few Chilkoots in me, and my buzz was being killed in front of my eyes.
It certainly deflated my fun balloon that night. And what made it a little worse was feelings of sympathy I had for my verbal assailant. The sympathy came out of my re-telling of the incident, to pretty much everyone involved with the show. Now there's a large group of far more intelligent, and far more secure women, who think she's a complete idiot. That's what a self-inflated sense of importance gets you gang.
Someone who doesn't like my stuff, that's easy, there's a lot of them out there, but someone who completely misses the point of something so obvious - it makes for a teeth-grinding kind of evening.
I got back on that fun horse though - enough that by around 5am, my liver walked out of my body and slapped me in the face.
We balanced all this Rendezvous crazy time with some great quality time with our nieces. These are two great kids, who we've had the pleasure of knowing since both their infancies. One is almost two and the other is four, both fun developmental stages to watch. And influence...
We caught up with as many people as we could, but with such a short schedule, we couldn't fit everything in.
But we came up with some interesting theories:
1. Whitehorse is a unique place in Canada, because there are no "buffer" people. While pretty much every other major urban centre has a large part of their population that live pretty basic lives (work, eat, sleep, etc.), even the nine-to-fivers in the Yukon are some pretty kooky people. There's no buffer zone between normal folks and the colorful ones - they're all pretty darn colorful.
2. We'll be back again - whether months or years, doesn't really matter, we'll always be a part of the Island.

There - now go watch more Lost.

Florida Part 2

2009-02-10T14:43:00.000-08:00

I meant to write some cheeky entries on the latter part of our Florida trip -
But I pictured myself reading this in the future, thinking: "Who freakin' cares..."
So I sat down and thought about the real salient points I would actually like to get across about our stay in Fort Lauderdale for a month.
The thing that really saved the trip was a little hookah bar called: "The Funky Buddha"
I discovered the place while looking for an open mic to do some comedy. Now that I've been doing stand-up for a couple of years, it has become a regular compulsion to make sure I can get in front of a mic on a regular basis. The longer in between stage time, and I actually get squirrely. It's a question all comics ask themselves, when can I next some time? I'd elbow my way into weddings for five minutes and an audience.
So, while were in Florida, my itch was starting to drive me nuts. Then I spotted the ad for this open mic in Boca Raton, only 20 minutes from where we were staying. The fact that it was a hookah bar with over 90 specialty beers was a decent draw as well.
Let's just say it seemed like a natural place to find like-minded people. And by like-minded people...okay, how many hints would you like? Basically - two birds, one stone, alright?
The place was nestled in a strip-mall, flanked by a Deli and Kinko's. And it was in this unlikely place we found our haven.
That first open mic was pretty over-whelming. It wasn't just comedians, but folk musicians, bar rockers, hip-hop artists, beat poets and an old blues icon. This was an amazing pastiche of open mic denizens - all under the Funky Buddha banner.
Hosting this cavalcade was one Richy Lala, a Dr. Bunsen Honeydew look-alike. I've never seen a comic do crowd work like this guy. He's a natural storyteller, able to exactly measure the appropriate amounts of charm and smarm necessary to keep the crowd enthused. The guy was a pro host, plus a great comedian.
There was also Matt Z, of proud Scandinavian descent, who took to the stage like an awkward Viking, but then assaulted the crowd with hilarious material about his apparent disfuctionality. If debasing yourself becomes an artform, this guy will be its Picasso.
We had many adventures with the Buddha gang, turning our trip into something more than just a sightseeing expedition. We made some lasting friends.
An unexpected, yet rewarding surprise.
It reminded me so much of the comedy scene we started in the Yukon. There's a large group of people that know each other, and make sure to tell one another about upcoming gigs. It seemed really supportive, and a lot of fun to be a part of.
We always had ample performance opportunity in the Yukon, let's face it, if you want a stage to put whatever the hell you fancy in front of an audience, it can easily be done. Our show at the Arts Centre proved how easy it can be if someone wants to do the work.
Our pals in Florida have that too, but they also are exactly where they need to be to hit the next level. The leap from amateur to pro certainly is facilitated by having access to larger markets. South Florida, with easy access to Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Tampa, and Orlando, seems like a decent logical choice for someone wanting to get into the comedy game.
I don't think Id leave Canada, but when I check out Facebook pictures of our friends at the Funky Buddha, wearing tank tops and shorts in February, I wonder if I might have took that constant hot weather for granted...

Cleverness

2009-01-06T10:43:00.001-08:00

It's a double-edge sword, isn't it?
While chasing the heights of cleverness as much as one can, especially while I was living in a counter-culture obsessed, irony hoarding place like Whitehorse - I have taken the time to reflect on how ridiculous some of my choices in life have been.
I have been guilty many times of tripping over my own cleverness, trying to reach greater plateaus than my peers, having more informed opinions or inflated ones anyway...
Until I was enthralled by this:

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/

After pouring through the website, I have come to two conclusions:

1. Whitehorse is the whitest place I have ever known.

2. I am now another member in my newly created ever-growing category of Stuff White People Like: "Being humbled by Stuff White People Like."

Florida Part 1

2008-12-12T12:35:00.000-08:00

In a need to disseminate a month in the States, I shall expound on our vacation there.

First off, why Florida? It really wouldn't be the first choice on a list of places to visit. I had been there when I was young, did the Disney World thing, and viewed the humid flatness of it all.

The main reason for heading to Fort Lauderdale was the free digs. My father owns a condo in a low security, gated retirement community. Hard to pass up not having to pay hotel bills.

Our second reason was the pull of Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights.

Having had a wonderful time scaring the bejeezurs out of people at our haunted house in the Guild Hall last year, the prospect of an entire theme park transformed into a cavalcade of horror sounded like a lot of fun.

Arriving in Florida, we weren't particularly surprised by the humidity, that's to be expected. What came as an unpleasant surprise, was upon entry into the condo, discovering a large complement of dead cockroaches through the house. Apparently the person care taking the place fired off a bug bomb before our arrival, which was thoughtful, but with all the drains open and the water shut off - them bugs decided to skitter their way into the condo proper.

There isn't much that makes me squeamish, but I can't freakin' stand cockroaches. An old apartment building I lived in, in downtown Ottawa was above a Lebanese bakery, which smelled really nice - but also attracted the bugs. Watching a cockroach crawl out of the tap while you're brushing your teeth isn't an event I'd wish on anyone.

Cleaning up their dried carcasses, we moved through the house with unease, discovering a couple of live ones. Of course the one I sprayed happened to be one of the more evolved beasts that could fly. Eeeeeeeeuuuuuughhhh.

I think we should all be suspicious about cockroaches. Every time I would spray one with the killing juice, it would immediately scuttle/fly towards me - likely in a desperate attempt to land one last blow.

The condo cleaned, we moved onto the next task, getting our wheels in gear.

My father also had an old Cadillac for us to drive - a great ole boat - about as old as I am, and wall to wall white leather. What he failed to mention however, was that the insurance had expired...

Ah well.

Our first cultural forays into Fort Lauderdale involved the Seminole Hard Rock Casino, a grand example of largess, but also home to some of the best sushi we've ever had in our lives. Another point of note was the Publix grocery store, in which the next row beside the cereal aisle, was all wine and beer.

I tell you my friends, being able to buy my evenings booze and food in the same location is a wonderful sign of civilization. Is it that Canadians can't be trusted to have their liquor so accessible? Probably.

We had a couple of days to drive around the town (Google maps saved the day numerous times), and then we were off on our first adventure to Orlando, to hit the Halloween Horror Nights.

Heading to theme park, you're going to have to assume a couple of things. Firstly, you are going to spend a lot of money - natch. Second, you might be elbowing your way from one end of the park to another.

We were proved wrong on the latter at least. October/November is a pretty quiet time for the park thankfully. So we were able to hit the rides with joyful abandon.

Good ole Jurrasic Park! While the ride might be a little dated, nineties style - the pay-off at the end is all worth it. Almost in a "Is the giant animatronic T-Rex head screaming at me going to crush us all?" kind of way.

A little damp we sauntered over to the grandiose "Poseidon's Fury", a terribly dull A/V live actor experience, that involved a gorgeous zillion dollar set on the outside. Thankfully, the Twin Dragon, dueling roller coaster was able to take the taste of that experience away.

I've only had small experience with theme parks, the aforementioned DisneyWorld, and a couple of ventures out to Canada's Wonderland.

I never was really interested in any of the periphery things in the parks. I could care less about the decor, shops and displays - gimme the rides. I've been a roller coaster nut since the first time I parked my arse in a wooden beast in CW.

Universal Studios was disappointing in the coaster department, Twin Dragons was decent, and the over-hyped Hulk coaster was actually dull. The 3-D Spiderman ride was an exhilarating surprise, but what trumped every single ride - the experience that we needed to do over 9 times - Revenge of The Mummy.

It's one part A/V experience, which is okay, but the it has the most intense seconds of fast indoor coaster action - in pitch black! Now that might have made up for the exuberant price of admission alone.

Our main reason for wandering into the doors though happened every evening - Halloween Horror Nights. They take one entire section of the park, fill it with "scare zones" and nine elaborate haunted houses. And though you might be stuck in a long queue, it's that anticipation of getting to the front gates, and hearing the genuine screams inside that make it a wonderful experience.

If you love Halloween, horror, or just getting the living crap scared out of you - think about it.

This is a movie studio after all, they have the money and the resources. Many of the houses we wandered through really knocked it out of the park with theme and atmosphere. Some seemed cobbled together, and some had half-assed actors inside - but it was all worth it.

If that wasn't enough, they had hundreds of people in costume wandering around to spook the unwary. The thick fog they would pump through the park also helped the mood.

This malevolent Scarecrow was advancing on Erica as she tried
to take a picture of him. He was a part of the Oz themed scare zone, complete with evil Winkie guards on stilts, an insult shouting witch atop a parapet, and flying monkeys. Seriously, they had guys on wires that would swoop out of the fog from one end of the street to the other.

You can try and say you're not unnerved, that these are only actors, but where's the fun in that.

The whole point of these nights is to scare yourself silly.

You can imagine how many "jocky" type alpha males would try and put on brave faces for their shrieking girlfriends. Those same guys would be the ones jumping six feet in the air as an actor announces their presence behind him with the roar of a chainsaw.

There were a lot of sneaky chainsaw dudes...

And these guys, who looked distinctly like "The Gentlemen" from a favourite Buffy episode of mine. (Judge me if you will, but I will defend the value of that show.)
These guys were stationed in a Jack the Ripper themed scare zone, gliding around on those roller shoes, each one of them at least six feet tall. Tall gaunt figures with white faces, literally gliding out of the fog - now that's some good scare effect I tells ya.
We had two favourite houses of note, one involved a story about zombies, glow paint and strobe blacklights. Think blackness, flash of nothing, blackness, then suddenly a zombie is in your face.
There was also the Interstellar Terror, a whole space ship to wander through, filled with possessed crew members.
You would think that one would get tired of all that Halloween-ness, but they truly found new and innovative ways to tweak scares out of people. Even when you were sure you could see it coming, a little misdirection would pull you into the real scares.

Funny thing was, it wasn't even Halloween yet - we still had to do our thing.
We went back to Fort Lauderdale to prepare...

It all starts here -

2008-12-11T14:41:00.001-08:00

Sorry, I was attempting to be clever.
To kind of expand on my post about cartoons, or more specifically the opening themes for some of my favourites. While Batman: The Animated Series, and Batman Beyond are by far my favourite openings, there are some great ones out there in television land. There are some themes that capture the eye, or have a particular tune that makes you watch the same opening over and over.
I noticed this trend with an obvious winner - The Sopranos -

Even though I would rent episodes on DVD, I never skipped the intro. It sets up the entire show so very well, musically, visually and thematically. Tony's drive from the city, through Jersey to his home shows so much that encapsulates the uniqueness of that show.

Here's another I can't skip - Dexter

Taking a common morning routine and turning into something so creepy and dark is a stroke of brilliance I say.

Recently I caught on to HBO's True Blood, a vampire drama set in modern day Louisiana. Sure the show can have a muddled plotline at times, and the acting a little over the top, but it is unique. Also one great tone setting opening, plus a great tune -

Two cents I needed to get out. Got yer own favourite openings? Drop me a line.

Rob Stalkie's my hero.

2008-12-08T13:46:00.001-08:00

Though I use the term lazily, cause let's face it - Hal Jordan's my hero.
But Stalkie gets all the props for winning the Last Comic Standing Yukon contest, held at Coasters these past ouple couple of months.
A brilliant idea concocted by Jonas and Chris McNutt to get a boost to the comedy nights in general, and create a good buzz regarding the sheer amount of comedic talent there is in the North.
Stalkie always had a natural ability to keep the crowd engaged, as in, when he took the mic, people would shut up and listen. Wish I could say the same for the rest of us.
His presence was due to his lack of a persona. There wasn't much characterization going on, because that really was him on the stage. Which I think is what will make him a succesful comedian.
He's heading out to Toronto to get his name out there, and as he brilliantly said himself: "I'm prepared to suffer."
If you're brave enough to admit that, then you'll do just fine.
He's also, one funny bastard.

Hmmmmm...

2008-11-28T18:11:00.000-08:00

This -

http://www.thestar.com/sciencetech/article/544684

Made me think of this:

Connection? I say oui!

Toontastic!

2008-11-28T13:55:00.000-08:00

I feel the need to discuss cartoons.
A whole article in What's Up would never fly, and the only person I could have a conversation with on the subject is a few thousand kilometers away. So, a rambling I will go. I've included some Youtube links to cut and paste to your liking.
Animated escapism has always been popular in my life - from the retro '70's Spiderman:

To the ridculousness of learning through Captain Nemo:

The wonderful weirdness of the Wizard of Oz:

And the surrealness of Dr. Snuggles:

Now most of us who grew up through the late seventies/early eighties likely fondly remembers these shows, and countless others of their like - to which most will exclaim "They don't make 'em like they used to."
Now this supposition has a lot of credence due to the cartoon wasteland of the mid-eighties, right through to the beginning of the nineties. There wasn't all that much to look forward to, and then suddenly in September of 1992, the face of cartoons changed dramaticaly:

That opening makes you notice it. It stylization was so unique, and different - and many people noticed. The creators of Batman: The Animated Series took great pains to craft some real stories in these half-hour episodes, so much so, that some animated episodes are considered more "canon" than the comic books. Indeed a few characters from the cartoon - either saw their resurgence or addition into the comic book world.
The popularity of this show led to a Superman Animated series, then the impending cancellation of the B:TAS show led to a unique direction for the studio.

Now that's an opening. Batman Beyond is an unfortunately overlooked show. But the same studio leaped from this to create first, Justice League and Justice League Unlimited. Now the creators not only had decades of comics to work from, but they also pulled in plotlines and characters from their animated history. It's really sad that the JLU show was cancelled - it was consistantly better than the actual comics. The creators cared about what they doing - the story, the characters, their history - and it showed.It certainly helped that they casted some really good voice actors. An art I'd never really appreciated till recently. I submit for you some grand geeky goodness from Justice League Unlimited:

and certainly:

I don't care what you say - that's sixteen slices of awesome. "I feel like I live in a world made of cardboard." That's one of the very best things someone has written for Superman ever.
So there you go, a little conversation with myself to explore something I really enjoy. I certainly don't plan to convert anyone, nor do I ever feel guilty about my geeky pleasures. It's just sometimes: I effing love cartoons.

Jive Talkin'

2008-11-24T21:04:00.001-08:00

So let's say you really enjoyed talking crap -

But not just any kind of crap - stoner jive. It's a term that was originally coined by my lady love, to describe only the sweetest of introspective chatter that occurs when one is - oh - shall we say - under the influence. I like to dance around subjects as much as the next person, considering I'd wager at least 70% of the territory has intimate knowledge of the subject - or let's just say - y'all know exactly what I'm talking about, right?

Good now that's out of the way -

Jiving. I had an awful lot of it last night.

When travelling, if you're like me, you like to find a place to call home, a watering hole that in some way encapsulates what we like to find at home. A nice cozy atmosphere, with a wide selection of beer is what we were looking for while on vacation in South Florida. We found exactly what we were looking for and more in the Funky Buddha -

A bar smack in the middle of retirements-ville Boca Raton. We headed there for the draw of 90+ micro-brew options, hookahs and a free open mic for me to get out some performance anxieties. (I gotta rant on stage every so often or I get squirrely - a common affliction with stand-ups)

After one evening, we had made some very close friends - including the incredibly talented Master of South Floridian comedy and all around nice feller Richy Lala, the astoundingly funny and heavily bearded Matt Z, and the guru of all things beer related - Joey Beers.

You gotta love a place where the man behind the counter can take you on random hop induced flavour adventures...but I digress.

Matt and I had some jiving to do, seeing as it was our last night in town. We covered a wide variety of subjects - but a couple of them stuck with me.

Tweens. The rise of the tweens. Having gone through the horror of witnessing hundreds of girls screaming during the piece of garbage titled "Twilight", I voiced my concern to Matt on how these 13 somethings were completely taking over, and thus ruining the entertainment industry. Some of you might say that it's all harmless pre-teen fun, but if Miley Cyrus isn't a sign of the Apocalypse, then I'll eat my imaginary hat! Hilary Duff never made me worry for my sanity - so what happened? I'm pretty sure it's tweens of the nineties that ruined pop music. Hear that you 80's music lovers - that's where you point your fingers! Matt and I might have come up with more answers, but then we moved to politics.

I told my new American pal that a small part of me had hoped that McCain and Palin would win the election just to see how crazy the world would get after that. Matt was slightly saddened but agreed that a part of him wished that had happened as well, just so his paranoid self would be able to shout: "See! I told you so! I was right!"

From politics we moved to professional wrestling, and the heyday of the art, which we both agreed had peaked around the mid-nineties, with the introduction of The Undertaker as its supreme highlight. Yes, I miss those days when I bought into it whole-heartedly. When The Hulkster was shaking he was nigh-invincible! And those were the days when a body slam was a finishing move and the sight of a chair in the ring was something rare and awesome...

While we were on a roll, we switched to the internet - and how it was a wonderful mecca of proliferation, and how it should always remain that way - completely uncensored. And then we posited that this granted people far more disposable income, since with a computer and internet connection, one not need spend a cent to receive any entertainment they desire. For example, I wish I had seen Twilight in the comfort of my own home, instead of in the middle of a shrieking hormone hurricane. So, with all of this extra cash, what will we North Americans spend our money mostly on? Food. And with extra money, we want to spend our money on the best food possible, thus we have the proliferation of The Food Network and hundreds of food related reality shows and cooking challenges. This, with the sheer amount of ultimate fighting challenges, will of course bring us closer to the neo-Roman Civilization we all unconsciously want.
Phew -
Take that to your Riverdale dinner parties my friends - amidst the looks of confusion and awkward silence, there will be a good third present who will be completely agreeing with you.
Don't be afraid of where the jive will lead you - this I have learned.

Also - don't watch Twilight.

A Quick Thought...

2008-11-21T13:38:00.001-08:00

And a wholly serious one, before I get into a long post about our excursion into South Florida.
There's still a lot of talk, on the internets, television and such - about parkour. It had all the hallmarks of an extreme sport fad - people using urban environments as jungle gyms, leaping off ledges, swinging from streetlamps, bouncing off rooftops...
What I really ask myself every time I hear about parkour -

What's it gonna take for one of them to slap on some spandex, a domino mask and fight some crime? If you're gonna leap around a city risking your neck anyway, is it that much of a stretch to slap on tights and kick some evildoers in the face?

I think not.

If anyone needs help, I'd make for a lousy side-kick, and an even worse Alfred - but I'd be a great Jimmy.

You know where to find me.

In defense of CKRW

2008-10-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to opine on the subject of Whitehorse's most loved/hated radio station, and in a format other than booze/stoner-jive fueled campfires.
(I'll discuss stoner-jive in a later post.)
I've heard through the grapevine for many years about how much people don't like CKRW for various reasons. So I'd like to share some thoughts about this highly subjective topic.
I worked at CKRW for three years, in one of the most relaxed, comfortable atmospheres I've ever parked my arse at. I was the guy that handled all the copy-writing, and pitched in on-air for the Saturday shift, or when the other DJ's got sick.
So - I know that I have a good informed opinion about the operation there.
There are limited number of radio stations in Whitehorse, and they all operate quite differently. CHON has a lot of liberty with their programming, and they do some great stuff, but you indeed know what you're going to get when you tune in. Same for New Life FM, and CBC. These stations have specific formats, that one tunes in to, if one likes that sort of thing.
So comparing these guys to CKRW is a little unfair, as we are indeed talking about apples and oranges. There is also the community radio station, which has music programming that follows no rhyme or reason, and is solely based upon the whims of the various programmers. So, sure, if you like eclectic, there you go.
But - a commercial radio station has to follow some sort of format to be successful. You have to attract people who are willing to buy ad space, then they can get their message to as many people as possible. That's pretty much how the game works.
So, Bob Johnstone, the music director of CKRW, has the unenviable task of trying to please as many musical tastes as humanly possible for the territory.
And let's face it - the Yukon has such a diversity of musical tastes, it's an extremely difficult job to satisfy all these people. The artsy culture in Whitehorse can be blamed for a little bit of music elitism, as they will be the first to complain that their favourite obscure independent band doesn't get any airtime on the radio - etc.
How come I can never hear any (insert name of R&B, hip-hop, metal, reggae, bluegrass, etc band here), is something Bob gets a lot of. And if you were to look through the exhaustive music library at the station, there is a surprising amount of music that hits almost all areas of the musical spectrum.
So why don't you hear that?
Like I said, commercial radio follows a certain format, and to hit the largest audience and keep them tuned in, CKRW has probably one of the loosest formats around. Throughout a day, you'll hear top 40, classic rock and a good chunk of Canadian independent music. As this is what most of the people in the territory want to listen to. Bob's other job is to make sure all this music flows nicely, so you can hear a four song sweep that mixes together really well. You get songs that follow each other musically in a logical, and ear-pleasing pattern.
Music directors plan out which songs would work out at certain times of day, which is why you'll hear lighter tempo songs in the morning.
So, I'd say, Bob does a pretty damn good job.
Plus, there is some specific programming at certain times, to hit other audiences. The nooner (which some people still haven't figured out, runs at noon after the news), is the full-hour request show. You can request whatever floats your boat, and Keith Ellert will try and find it for you. And I do mean anything.
Countless times I've seen Bob run into the production booth to hunt for just one specific song, just for the nooner. Sometimes, he'll hear something that will work for the station, and add it to the rotation. So if you think there's a tune lacking in the CKRW system, don't be shy to drop them a line.
There's the overnight that starts at 11, where songs that are a little too heavy, or contain some adult content that would be questionable to play during the day, so plays late at night.
The DJ's themselves have quite a lot of freedom in picking the music, and can play around with some of what gets played, so you might get an idea of DJ's personal favourites if you keep an ear out.
There's a good reason why Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" got played when I was on air. It's a great tune - one of my fav's. (And it's 2 minutes and 30 secs, great to time-out to the hour with)
Remember folks, the music you listen to may not agree with other people. So if you feel like writing a message of disdain to Bob for playing a piece of garbage like "Jenny from the Block", understand that Bob may not like that particular tune either, but someone out in the territory does.
Still have complaints? Don't be lazy, walk into CKRW at the corner of 4th and Elliot, and say something. While being a commercial radio station, it's still a part of your community.

It's been a while -

2008-10-21T13:34:00.000-07:00

So I figure I should make some attempt at writing something.
Now I find myself missing my days as a What's Up writer, firstly because my editor, Darrell, would let me blather about any subject that piqued my interest - but it was also great exercise just to work on something every couple of weeks.
I've been on quite the adventure since I left the Yukon in July. To begin, my fiancee and I packed up our belongings, drove them down to her parents place, stuffed them in a shed, then immediately took off on a long drive to Winnipeg to perform at the Fringe festival there.
Canada has a well known and loved circuit of Fringe festivals, across the country, where any schmuck with the application fee has the chance to put on any kind of show they want in front of an audience. Generally seen as a venue for the weird and experimental, you're likely to catch a little bit of everything at one, from comedic plays, to musicals, beat poetry, dance, clown, classic plays and even some Shakespeare.
It's what appealed to me in the first place, that there's such a scattershot of shows, in such a wide variety, it's like a theatre zoo. Of course, it also means that the quality is highly subjective, from utter crap, to sheer brilliance.
My show was a a bit of a stand-up revue, of material and sketches I had performed and honed in Whitehorse.
The Winnipeg Fringe is not a good place to start for a first timer. The learning curve is quite large, and takes getting used to a lot of humiliation. While each Fringe supplies you with a venue, tech support, and box office - all the promo is pretty much done by yourself. Which entails you hoofing around like a reverse-hobo, begging people to come see your show.
Myself, being introverted, had a hard time at the whole promo thing - but at least we got some audience.
We had a much better time in Saskatoon. The Fringe there is much smaller than the others, but is known amongst the Fringe participants as a bit of an "oasis". This is a real chance for performers to get to know each other, hang out, and socialize. And indeed, we did. Some might say a little too much, but we let them know that people from the Yukon are truly unique individuals.
If you happen upon some lost looking theatre artists from the UK or Australia, don't be suprised. We're pretty sure we sold the place really well on a lot of people.

So - I learned a lot about myself as a performer, but I'm nowhere near having a clue as to where I'm going. Performance wise that is. As for a settling place to call home, we really dig that Saskatoon - and we'll likely find ourselves there in May.
In the meantime, we're hanging out at Erica's parents place in Summerland, BC.

This year was my first discovering the Okanagan. This former Eastern Ontario boy has become Westernized I tells ya. We've already decided that we're going to retire in Oliver, where I have already chosen my old man hobby, forgoeing the usual WWII fascinations, golf or complaining, and instead I'll be working on my grow-op.

What's Up Column: State of Comedy

2008-05-01T11:17:00.001-07:00

Watching “Extras” will make you a better person.
Well, maybe not, but if you took the time to watch Ricky Gervais’ comedic opus from start to it’s concluding Special – you will have seen one of the greatest comedies on television. True story.
This made me wonder about the state of Canadian comedy, and in particular, where we define ourselves. I think we lie somewhere in between the two major players in the comedy world – the U.S. and the U.K.
The differences between American and British comedy are pretty obvious. Our cousins to the south have a long standing tradition of appropriating concepts from BBC shows and “Americanising” them, or as I call it “Watering the ideas down to make them more palatable”.
I’m not trying to be harsh on American comedy, but it distresses me when they repeatedly ruin good quality BBC comedies, by importing the ideas – and removing the heart and intent.
Ok – that was a little harsh. So a more concise view, I asked local comic and fellow media consumer, Roslyn Woodcock, to describe the differences between these two comedy powerhouses.
“Generally speaking”, says Woodcock, “American comedy spends a lot of time dealing with external reactions to physical attributes or scenarios – for example, “Arrested Development”'s Blue Man scenes, the Stair Car or Job's magic acts; while British comedy spends it’s time dealing with the internal (mental) reactions to the external: “Peep Show”'s ongoing inner monologues or “Coupling”'s in depth descriptions of what characters are thinking during absurd situations.”
Woodcock sums it up nicely.
“The British seem more willing to delve deeply into human fraility. They dig weakness while Americans dig the absurdity that comes from ignoring weakness.
So do we fit in there?
“Canadians, do a bit of both”, says Woodcock, “but there are just too few of us to really say we have created our own niche.”
Our style does seem to meet in that middle, as our most popular comedies deal directly with how self-aware we are as a people. I would posit that if we had a resting comedic state, I would say that it lies directly with our identity – and the exploration thereof. We take all of the external and internal – then filter it through our ideas of being Canadian.
We’re pretty paranoid about being compared to Americans, which pushes our identity into ridiculous avenues.
Needless to say, Canadians are pretty darn good at laughing at themselves, and we can certainly take it further than the States, but we’re not willing to go quite as far as the UK.
Of course we’ve had some fantastic moments in television that transcended common notions of comedy – or pretty much threw conventions out the window. SCTV and Kids in the Hall are two of the most influencial sketch comedy shows out there.
There is a hint of the key to our comedic strength in those two shows.
While the world sits around and debates whose comedies are better, there we are in the middle of it all – being ignored. And this is a good thing.
If our Canadian identity is our strength, than our subtlety is our stamina.
We don’t take ourselves too seriously. In fact, we’re the best at taking ourselves down a peg when needed. And who better to satirize Canadians than themselves?
So we are one of the best comedic states a savvy writer could ask for. It’s this self-awareness that will eventually bring us the next great Canadian TV comedy.
In the meantime – you really need to watch “Extras”.

Sketch: The Complaint Desk sequel

2008-05-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

I have a bizarre need to write sequels -

The Complaint Desk 2

(Man is sitting on a chair – miming watching TV. Another man, an obvious door-to-door salesman waltzes in and mimes knocking on the door.)

Salesman: (to no one in particular) Well now – we have a little quandary here. Without a door – am I still a Salesman? You bet I am!

(He walks through the imaginary wall – and silently walks behind man.)

Salesman: Say kiddo – whacha doin’?

(Man jumps up with a start)

Man: What the Hell! Who are you? Get out my house before I call the cops!

Salesman: Now, now chum – let’s slide the mercury down the gauge eh – you’re getting more excited than Lana Turner’ gynecologist.

Man: What?

Salesman: Don’t get out much do you? I can see that. Nice place you have here.

Man: Who the hell are you?

Salesman: Who I am is a philosophical question I don’t need to ask – I’ve gazed into my abyss and the only thing that looked back was yesterday’s pastrami on rye –

(He belts his stomach and burps.)

Salesman: Why I went to a German deli I’ll never know – Between you and me the 13 tribes got outta the desert for two reasons – so we could have packed houses on Broadway and so I could get a lunch to remember.

(Man looks at him stunned)

Salesman: You look more stunned than a retired Chinese railway worker – Let me slow things down. You happy Roger – Can I call you Rog?

Roger: No.

Salesman: Fantastic Rog! I can tell you are someone who may not be happy with their lot in life – am I right Rog?

Roger: Uh –

Salesman: Uh – indeed Rog. Did I say you had a nice placet here? Solid. Some very solid walls – especially this one. (He points to the audience) You like this wall Rog? The fourth wall?

Roger: What?

Salesman: Rog, Rog, Rogerino – Don’t be coy with me kiddo. You look about as down as Uri Geller at a spoon straightening tournament. And I think I know why.

Roger: Why?

Salesman: You think this grand universe of yours dealt you a lousy hand – don’tcha?

Roger: Well.

Salesman: C’mon Rog, let’s be honest – when I walked in, you were sitting in a bare stage pretending to watch an invisible TV – how sad is that? And between you and me, I’m no Marcel Marceau – but I couldn’t tell if you were watching TV or lazily trying to tweak that person’s nipple (point to person in audience)

Roger: Well it sucks.

Salesman: I know you think that. You think, I have no good lines, I’m barely fleshed out – and I have no interesting character traits. Right.

Roger: Yeah.

Salesman: Why look at me! I have a loud suit – an outrageous accent and I repeatedly drop anachronistic nonsensical similes. That’s about as colourful as Doug Henning’s wardrobe.

Roger: Exactly.

Salesman: That’s what you might think Rog. I saw you in the other sketch my friend, "The Complaint Desk", and I’m mightily impressed.

Roger: What are you talking about? I don’t do anything! Get out of my house!

Salesman: Ah my bellicose buddy – strolling out of this scene you call home wouldn’t do us any good. We’re two peas in a pod my friend – We’re like Ice Cream and the Cone, Sonny and Cher, Jake and the Fatman – (to the audience) I tell you I’ve been pounding back Root Beer Floats faster than Iron Fist Maureen gives hand jobs – only a quarter – those were the days…

Roger: Would you get to a point – lunatic.

Salesman: (puts arm around Rog) Rog – do you know what a straightman is?

Roger: No.

Salesman: The straightman is a time-honored posistion that holds the whole integrity of a comedic routine together. The straightman is the opposite of the wacky character – the coffee to the cream – You can’t have one without the other. I know what you’re thinking – you want a demonstration! Well – I’m not a wacky salesman for nothing!

(He shoves Roger towards the back)

Salesman: Don’t worry Rog, you’re not going to break anything – there ain’t no walls here (turns to audience) Right folks? Now you go hide back there – and watch.

(Roger hides a little backstage. Salesman goes to center.)

Salesman: Lookie me! I’m a goofy door-to-door salesman. Watch me do crazy things!

(He does a weird dance.)

Salesman: Now that was pretty uninspiring. That was comedy at it’s lowest common denominator (to audience) No offense to those who laughed. Who just wants to watch one goof for a whole sketch. This isn’t stand-up! I can tell by your slack-jawed mug you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, as the kids say – let’s try it another way.

(He runs over and grabs Roger, and shoves him back in his chair)

Salesman: (from wings) Alrigthy – you just sit there and do your nipple tweaking – what you were doing when I walked in.

(Roger awkwardly does so.)

Salesman: (walking in slowly) I gotta tell you Roger – that was more dull than Stephen Hawking singing “Sweet Child O’ Mine” at karaoke. (pause) Did you like that one?

Roger: Wasn’t bad.

Salesman: I aim to please! And look at us go – riffing off each other – that is our relationship – and the driving force of a good comedy sketch. Me – the wacky character – You –

Roger: The straightman.

Salesman: Precisely! You deadpan your way to fame and fortune from here Rogerino!

Roger: So what exactly are you selling?

Salesman: An ending to this sketch! Whaddya say? Do we yammer on in front these fine folks – stretching this scene further than Elton John’s prostate – or with a simple purchase – we can cap this sucker off and leave ‘em smiling…trust me kid – this ain’t the Pivot festival – these folks actually paid to come here (wink to audience)

Roger: Ok – how much.

Salesman: You are lucky we’re such good friends Roger. To other people – like that fellow over there (point to person) I would rip him off faster than a band-aid on Lindsay Lohan’s ass –

Roger: Nice one.

Salesman: I’m moving up with the times Rog. So for you my friend – I have one hot sketch ending – for only 5 bucks.

Roger: Okay. (he digs in his pocket for the money and hands it over)

Salesman: A scholar and a gentleman are you Roger. Here you go.

(He pulls out a sheet of paper from his pocket and passes it to Roger.)

Salesman: Take a second to give it a go-over Rog – I’ll softshoe.

(He softshoes a bit for the audience while Rog studies the paper.)

Salesman: How’s it goin’ Rog – my feet are swelling larger than Gary Busey’s arteries.

Roger: I think I’m ready…

Salesman: Ok – let’s do this chum!

(They hop to center and sing to the tune of “Those were the Days” from All in the Family.)

Salesman: “I came in and you dismayed.”

Roger: “My sense of self had been belayed –“

Salesman: “Like a bitch who’d just been spayed –“

Roger: (Looks at Salesman, who shrugs) Ouch. “I’m now remade!”

Salesman: “Now you know when jokes are said –“

Roger: “I’ll just frown and shake my head –“

Together: “And we’ll make life outta strife and reap laughs till the end…”

Salesman: “Looks like now our time is spent –“

Roger: “I needed that five bucks for rent.”

Salesman: “Least you got more than George Wendt –“

Roger: George Wendt? Who’s that?

Salesman: EX-actly.

Together: “I’m (Your) now remade!”

(Blackout)

Sketch: The Complaint Desk

2008-05-01T11:08:00.000-07:00

Kinda fond of this one - though it doesn't usually go over that well -

The Complaint Desk

(A man (Roger) sits behind a booth that is adorned with a large sign saying “Complaints”. A man (Edward) holding a box covered with a sheet enters and walks up to him.)

Edward: Excuse me?

Roger: Yes?

Edward: I would like to register a complaint.

Roger: One moment please.

(Roger starts putting away the magazine he was reading, then stands up and looks at Edward as if noticing him for the first time. He takes a perplexed look at his box.)

Edward: Is something wrong?

(Roger moves around the booth and takes a look at the “Complaints” sign, then heads back around and once again looks at Edward.)

Edward: I’m sorry, is there –

Roger: Wait.

(Roger bows his head in thought, then looks at Edward.)

Roger: This –

(Edward looks at Roger expectantly.)

Roger: This – This isn’t a comedy sketch is it?

Edward: Er…

Roger: I mean, this certainly has all the hallmarks of a comedy sketch.

Edward: I’m not sure what you –

Roger: Oh come on, I’m sitting at a booth. A “Complaints” booth. And you come in with some mystery box.

Edward: So?

Roger: Hello?!? Classic sketch exposition! A little bit hack if you ask me.
Edward: What do you mean?

Roger: Well it’s just so overdone isn’t it? The whole shopkeep / customer thing. You come in, introduce the wacky conflict or either you or I have some sort of extreme personality disorder – hilarity ensues!

(Roger sits down. Pause.)

Edward: I’m not sure I fully understand.

Roger: Oh for Christ’s sake, there’s even a friggin audience!

(Roger goes around and hauls Edward to front of stage, and points audience out. Edward is very uncomfortable of having 4th wall broken.)

Roger: See! (He waves his arms around gesturing at everything) Sketch!

(Roger goes back to his chair. Edward takes his position.)

Edward: So, do you want to know what my complaint is about?

Roger: (sigh) Lemme guess, it’s something to do with the box.

Edward: Yes.

Roger: Wow. (to himself) Jesus, I guess I gotta play along. Get this over with. (to Edward) Okay! What, sir, is your problem?

Edward: Well you see –

Roger: (making exaggerated gestures) WHAT! Can I! Help you! With!

Edward: Are you all right?

Roger: Just trying to breathe life into this. I mean, these guys paid money. (He motions to audience, then looks at them) You did pay money right?

Edward: I see. Well, I would like to register a complaint. My hamster is doing very well.

Roger: What? Are you serious?

Edward: Completely.

Roger: This is the Parrot sketch!

Edward: What?

Roger: (to the wings) FUCK! This is the goddamn Parrot Sketch! Classic Monty Python! “Pining for the fjords!” How about some friggin’ originality here!

Edward: Er, you see, Oslo, that’s my hamster’s name, he has –

Roger: What? He’s dead? He needs a “hamster” license? Is on first? Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Only has one leg? On Thursdays at 9? Has a canoe welded to his head? Is a Newfoundland separtist? Has a cabbage for a head? Only knows elementary school French? Makes things out of duct tape? The only gay in the village?

(A man enters suddlenly on stage)

Man: And now for something completely different!

(Blackout)
Roger: You guys suck.

And so -

2008-04-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm not 25 grand richer - but what a long, fun trip it was.
Scroll down and you'll get the drift of my trip.
I was lucky enough to have a layover in Vancouver, at the same time that Yukyuk's has their Pro/Am nights - a mixture of sets from professional and amateur stand-ups. I had emailed the feller in charge and he gave me the okay to do a set.
It was the perfect practise round for Toronto - and all-in-all, I had a pretty strong set. I was pretty worried about the whole time thing, as in, at these clubs - you have a set amount of time, going over your time is a faux-pas.
I kept everything quick and easy, and had great crowd response.
Naturally, killing in unfamiliar territory is a huge rush.
However, once I got to Toronto - I couldn't stop stressing out. This knot of worry just grew and grew all day on the Friday before showtime. I was actually slightly worried about my growing state of nausea. It didn't help we went to a mediocre Italian restaurant beforehand.
I did a couple of practise rounds in the hotel room, and off I went.
I went into the green room and met the other comedians who would be participating that night. One older comic and I had a great chat about touring. And he was telling me stories about his booker sending him to Fort St-John, and other dives around Northern BC and Alberta - some very interesting and sobering stuff.
Then I joined in the queue of pacing comedians, worrying their hands as they went over the sets, and poured over their notes. At least it was comforting to know I wasn't the only one about to crap themselves.
When my name was called, my stomach jumped and away I went. While it wasn't one of my solid moments (the nerves certainly got to me), I had a pretty good set. Even Mark Breslin - the founder of Yukyuk's, and the very funny MC of the evening, gave me a thumbs up.
It was quite a mix of talent on the stage - and I guess I had been naive in my uinderstanding that you needed to be funny to be a pro stand-up comedian.
A lot of jokes were pretty formulaic, and standard. The MC even made a meta-joke on the subject - though it might have been lost on some of the attendees.
I can say that I know I could be doing this professionaly if I want to. All it takes is being in a city with a lot of clubs, then hitting them up as much as possible. Eventually, you get picked and you journey of living in your car begins.
I asked myself, is this what I really want to do?
I'm not so sure.

Great Canadian Laugh-Off

2008-03-10T11:48:00.000-07:00

Due to some lucky computer randomness, I will be participating in said Laugh-Off.
It's put on by Yukyuk's - and involves stand-up comedians vying for a 25 thousand dollar prize.
It's a mix of veterans and amateurs, so as to how I'll match up, I have absolutely no idea.
I'll be heading down to Toronto at the beginning of April, and then doing 8 minutes of blathering, for a shot at getting into the finals.

We shall see.

Waxing Gygaxian

2008-03-07T10:14:00.000-08:00

Trolling the blogosphere turns up more than a few articles about Gary Gygax, one of the creators and driving forces behind Dungeons and Dragons, and his death this past week.

Not that I really wanted to opine terribly much on the subject, but I naturally started to cast my mind back to those days I spent in darkened basements (usually John's or Peter's), rolling dice and eating junk food.

My first exposure to Role-Playing was game of WarHammer RPG, a particularly grim, gritty and unsurvivable world where more time was spent delving through their ridiculous character creation system: "I'm a Rat-catcher! Yay!", than actually doing anything before your personage died a horrible death.
Yes - I was hooked.
It was pretty much inevitable, cause after that my next foray was with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ahhh, good ole TMNT - wherein you would portray a mutated animal.
I was a camel. Yep.
Years would pass and reams of character sheets, dice and pizza.
I have a lot of memories invested in the rolling of dice. There was a lot of joking around, a lot of comraderie - and a lot of imagination.

So Kudos to those Comrades and the times we spent. To John, for creating one of the creepiest moods in my imagination with that Chill campaign, and to Andy - for making me laugh my ass off one so many occaisions - and the six fucking years we spent on his Grand Guignol.

I tip my glass to you Mr. Gygax.

My First Roast

2008-03-04T10:34:00.001-08:00

This past weekend, a very good friend of mine was having a suprise birthday party - which was also announced as a roast.
Roasts are a time-honored tradition wherein the guest of honor (and indeed it is a point of honor) is celebrated by being completely insulted by his/her peers. The idea is to tear the person a new asshole in the most loving way possible. There's a lotta respect involved, amidst all the bashing - and thus it's usually quite a good time.
Dean Martin brought the roast into popularity - and Comedy Central's recent hilarious roasts of William Shatner, Flava Flav, etc. - have brought them into the mainstream.
The idea was certainly tantalizing to do one here. There are certainly enough subjects, but when the idea was briefly bandied about - it just seemed that it would likely turn into people lamely insulting each other. There has to be an art to the whole thing - and the key I think is to have a genuine affection for the subject.
So - I thought long and hard about what I would write - I love the guy, and didn't want feelings hurt. So I churned out what I thought was something honest, and filled with some light witty jabs.
I went up to the mic that evening and went through the whole thing - the crowd laughed, he laughed - and at the end I could see he was genuinely touched.
Could I have been harder on the guy? Sure. But it was my first time - and it was a pretty special event. And no really my cup of tea - insulting people makes me slightly ill.
I think I'll just stick to denigrating myself - that I can do.

Growth Spurt

2008-02-28T15:19:00.000-08:00

So new Comedy developments lately.
A small group (4) of us decided to put on a Comedy night at our local community theatre - the Guild Hall - but we decided that it would be pretty sketch centric. We collaborated on pretty much everything in the show, and each had a solo piece to ourselves.
It was a refreshing experience - we all got along really well, and put together a great show - during one of the busiest times in the Yukon. So we only had 20 people in the audience - but they were warm and the laughs were plenty and genuine. Which, in a small town with people who know you in the audience almost all the time - genuine laughter is great.
And now our little community is growing - with some notable folks added to the mix. Logan Larkin is my new hero. The guy has a lot of theatre training and experience, but he's a great comedian. He stole the show with a very simple premise, and turned it into a clowny masterpiece. We also happened to be making fun of the Pivot festival at the same time - so - Wheee!
I can't voutch for how much effort Logan put into his preparedness beforehand, but I think it's pretty minimal. Not that it's a bad thing - he does very well - but he could kick some serious comedy ass in this town - easily. Hopefully he will.
We've had some newcomers to the Coasters Comedy stage as well - Stephen and Brendan have come up twice now to play a few funny tunes (some Flight of the Conchords, Adam Sandler, etc.) and they are eager to be back for more every two weeks - huzzah.
We are in a sorry state for female comics though. I know a few in town how would kill on stage, some already have, but don't show their faces anymore. Which is really too bad - it was a sea of guys out there last night. (Except for one woman - who I pandered to for a small bit - which I appreciated, cause otherwise it would have fallen pretty flat.)
More comedians also helps me flesh out material a little more - as now I'll actually have acts. I try anyhow to make sure I have at least about 45 minutes of stuff to talk about, just in case. We start the Coasters' nights around 9:30 - and I don't finish the show till around 11. That's the goal anyway.
So now instead of blathering, I can take time to refine.
Though a wealth of material will help me in the long run - when I skeddadle outta here in the summer for different climes.

What's Up Article: Scrap the Farce!

2008-02-22T07:29:00.000-08:00

Attention CBC Television fans: Stop watching Royal Canadian Air Farce!
Please.
I’ve long felt the need to clearly and confidently state, with the utmost of sincerity that Air Farce is a terrible show. I say this with a truly noble intent my friends. Whereas most of us consumers of comedy media know fully well that Canada has an excellent knack for bringing the funny, a show like Air Farce has been pushing our comedy stock value down for a couple of decades now.
Trust me, I don’t say this lightly. I’ve sat through long half-hours of tired sketches, extremely lame jokes and truly awful impersonations to arrive at this conclusion. Air Farce just isn’t funny.
I’ve given the show more chances than it really deserves, and only by virtue that it is a Canadian comedy show – and that the show has an obvious venerability. But being around for a long time doesn’t make one funny, and aging hasn’t done anything for Air Farce but make Luba Goy’s character choices less believable.
I want to be proud of Canadian comedy.
I remember the good ole days of being glued to set, ready to have my brain altered by the SCTV gang. Codco and This Hour has 22 Minutes (only while Greg Toomey was on), The Frantics had some great hits, and I still love catching re-runs of the highest watermark of Canadian comedy TV – The Kids in The Hall.
So what happened to Air Farce?
I’d posit that Air Farce jumped the shark as soon as we could see them. Having been on the radio since 1973, they made a jump onto television via a special in 1992, then 5 years later they were regulars on the CBC TV line-up.
Performing on radio and television has some obvious differences. While the Air Farce members could easily bring the charisma when our imaginations filled in the blanks, seeing them on air changed everything dramatically. The dynamic was completely different, and certain things radio could forgive were garishly pointed out. A good voice actor, doesn’t make a good actor. Watching Luba Goy impersonate Wendy Mesley made a part of me die inside – the part that had a crush on Wendy Mesley.
Look at what happened to Double Exposure. They were extremely popular on radio, but the jump to television pretty much buried them.
It was Air Farce’s venerability that has been saving them so far, but as their jokes get more tired (seriously, I swear the writers are phoning it in), shouldn’t we just cut our losses?
Television comedy is a tough battleground, so naturally CBC is going to rely on Air Farce’s history to keep them afloat. It’s a safe bet, and I don’t blame them for it.
What disappoints me, is that people might look at Air Farce as a standard of Canadian comedy, when there are so many other astronomically better Canadian comedy shows.
And you’ll have to pull yourself away from the Mother Corp. to catch some of these – I know – heresy!
There’s the fantastic History Bites, created by Frantics alumnus Rick Green. While personally not an impersonation fan, History Bites has some of the best. Trailer Park Boys is certainly a niche – but it covers it extremely well. Same goes for the new Jon Dore Television Show. Shows like The Newsroom and Twitch City knocked it out of the park with style and creativity. Though sometimes hit or miss, I can also recommend Comics and Comedy Now, which feature new and upcoming Canadian stand-up comedians.
So, since we all know that Canadians can make a superior comedy product, we need to acknowledge when something isn’t funny anymore.
Feel free to keep the memory of their past glories intact, but it’s time now to retire the Air Farce. If you need a supportive hug, I’ll be around.

Titles suck

2008-02-12T10:10:00.000-08:00

But they're the hallmark of the clever blog aren't they.
Fingers poised over the keyboard, dangling pupetteer-like, ready to show the world how creative you are. Sometimes it comes easy, other times your ready to let gravity take charge of the dead weight your head is, and allow it to make a dull thud onto your desk. Or maybe a "Wackle" kind of sound when yer noggin hits the keyboard.
So, the Coaster's Comedy nights have been moved to Wednesdays. Thank freaking Jesus!(figuratively of course) We've always been lacking for audience members, and I know there are people who would enjoy coming on a regular basis. The Monday evening thing was a difficult hurdle I fully understand. I'm a recluse to begin with, and Mondays are just so condusive to staying in, it's practically law.
Plus, people might have shown up in the past, and then watched some serious floundering on stage, and decided to never come again. I can't really argue that, I mean, I'm never going to attend anything that goes by the name "Pivot" ever again.

So now I've been going through reams of material, for a few reasons. I have about two dozen Word documents on various computers with jokes, sketches and ideas. This likely isn't the most efficient way to organize the funny. I've lost track of a few bits, and things I've wanted to work on, get lost in new messes that pop into my head.
For example, for the show I'm taking to the Fringe, in between the sketches, I was planning on performing some stand-up vis a vis religion, etc. Except now ideas are starting to consume me regularly, and I have no idea how I'm going to squeeze some of the stuff in. I should be taking what I want to do, likely the best stuff, polishing that - then rehearsing the shit out of it. Every time I go to polish, I find something new - then that thing needs polish.

You'd think that was a good thing right?

Ice Foggy Bottom

2008-02-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

Yeah, it's cold - but how much is there bitching about it, when you clearly choose to live in a place that has a regular tendancy to completely freeze over for a good portion of the year. Trolling Yukon blogs, it's all about the cold - with only a few people noting the obvious - that's what the Yukon does - it gets cold - really cold - something you can count on. Ah well.
I've been avoiding writing these days, taking a nesting sort of attitude. The cold and lack of fiancee will make one sink into geeky pleasures with vivacious abandon. I do get up to go pee though - I have some retstraint.
But I'll have to hit that writing board soon enough. Comedy Night was cancelled due to the chill, so I'll have material for the next one, but we're putting on a sketch comedy night at the Guild on Feb. 23rd. There are some sketches we've done before, that we really could improve on. In a "I know these are funny people, they just got fucked up in the performance" kind of way.
I've been trying to osmose as much as possible, watching sketch comedy shows on DVD and TV. Sometimes the simplest ways are best for sketch - case in point - a British show called "ManStrokeWoman". Almost all of their stuff is great, fresh, but follow a pretty simple pattern. It's some smart stuff.
Sketch comedy is a lot easier to depend on than stand-up. Even the fact of having someone on a stage, "acting" out a character, gives the audience all the set-up they need to wait for something funny. That anticipation will wring laughs out of the simplest of stuff. Not that it's easy - it's just way more dependable than stand-up comedy.
Mike Ellis is on board to do some writing, which is great. He's a very funny guy, and comes at things differently than I do. His sketch "Dutch Oats" has all the hallmarks of being a "classic" - and if I can convince him to perform it again, that would be great.
I just really want to do a show that's way more organized than Guild Comedy Nights in the past. I put my trust in people before, to bring the funny - and a lack of desire to work bit me in the ass. They were successful nights indeed, people had a good time - but man, the professionalism was certifiably absent. I'd like that to change.

And with a theatre, and all it's facilities at our disposal - the tools are there.

Pivot Schmivot

2008-01-29T10:54:00.000-08:00

This year, Nakai Theatre decided that instead of the usual Comedy Fest they usually put on - they would replace it with something called "Pivot" - an extreme theatre event. From the press that touted this new festival, words like: "Groundbreaking, extreme, and out-of-the-box".
From Tara McCarthy's article in the Jan. 25th issue of What's Up Yukon, David Skelton mentions that Nakai was finding that Whitehorse audiences: "were moving away from being as satisfied with the stand-up and sketch comedy" and that one of Nakai's responsibilities: "is to expose Whitehorse audiences to a high quality of professional theatre"
That's some pretty bold statements there, and if you're a regular Yukon culture vulture - you might agree that Pivot would have to be pretty impressive indeed for all that pomp to ring true.

I'll admit, I only went to one evening of the Pivot festival, but I saw the bulk of shows that were being offered. And honestly, I felt a little guilty for having comp tickets, only because I felt so damn sorry for the few people who paid. Let me stress the "few" part of that statement.
It's not my intention to point a finger at Nakai and laugh, but boy, Pivot certainly added to the Hindenburg-like qualities that Nakai has slowly been building.
The shows at Pivot were pretty much the exact kind of fare anyone could see at any Fringe festival in North America. The difference being that one has much more choice at a Fringe festival - so you're likely able to see something you like.
There was nothing likeable about the shows at Pivot (mind you, I didn't see "This is Cancer - Live" and I'll go out on a limb and say it was probably good - Bruce Horak has some cred). David Bateman's monologues were so disjointed, obviously unrehearsed and pretty dull. Gay guys talking about their mothers and comparing them to glamourous stars of the past - it's actually kinda cliche. I did make a good mental grocery list during his show though - so thanks.
He couldn't handle his props, and didn't seem to have a grasp on where he was going. It was pretty unprofessional seeming - not unlike a crappy Fringe show.
"Lounge" was better, but that's not saying much. It was split up into two acts, and the second certainly killed what little momentum the first had.
Neither show was groundbreaking, extreme or thought-provoking.
Taking a look into the crowd, you could see the usual folks who go to Arts events in Whitehorse. We've all seen stuff like this before, and we've seen it done better. I've seen more entertaining things done at Homegrown.
This festival had no heart, and no drive. Just the fact that there were so many free tickets handed out should be telling.
Last year, me and a little group of like minded amateur comedians put together two nights of sketch comedy. We had the Westmark ballroom filled with people, and we put on a pretty decent show. While we certainly had some low moments, this was relatively new to us, and we had a lot of room to grow.
Nakai couldn't even fill one third of the ballroom, which was their main venue.
Just add that to the growing list of things Nakai has lost money on.
While I'll completely agree that Nakai should be the last people to run a comedy fest in the first place, at least they were trying before. Now - not so much. If they can pull people like Ron James and Cathy Jones up here for fundraisers (that they lost money on by the way), one would think these people would be perfect anchors to build a comedy fest around.
Pivot was a pretty uninspiring festival, right where we needed somethign bright in our dead of winter. This has me worried about Homegrown, and if Skelton will have his hands in what shows will be put on.

Then again, as they say, if you want something done right...

Family Ties kicked Growing Pains' Ass.

2008-01-16T11:44:00.000-08:00

Just needed to get that out.
And c'mon, Tom Hanks as the drunk uncle - drinking vanilla and marashino (sp?) cherry juice - priceless.
But as usual, I digress.
This past Monday saw the return of Comedy night at Coasters. I not-so-sneakily parlayed the leaving of my partner (she's gonna get some edumacation) into getting more people to show up for some laughs. Thankfully, it worked.
It was a good night, with a lotta laughs, and some great comics. From where Chris McNutt started, yelling over people talking to their beers at the Whitewater Wednesday Open Mic Jam nights - to where we are now is pretty nifty.
There are now comics who are close to on par, and occaisionally better than us *cough* pros. There's Logan, who on his first time on stage, blew everyone out of the water with his presence, and his material. We have Rob, who really is a nautral, as long as he can get over his nervousness and the trend to mimic popular comedians. Though, we should worry, cause once he finds his own voice - he's going to kick all our asses.
And then there's Scott. This guy has his own thing going, and it's going very well. He's a natural at the mic, although he usually mentions how nervous he is. When I say he's a natural, I mean he has a presence that says: "This is who I am." Whereas, most comics will come on to the stage with some proto-persona of themselves, Scott is wholly real. And watching him - you can see the power of coming from such a real place.
So those of us that have been doing it for a while, our days might just be numbered. We'll have to make sure we step up our game once in a while. Not that I plan on being competitive, far from it. We need new, good comics to keep this thing alive. Our audience is one fickle sonofabitch. So the more, the merrier. It also keeps everyones brains churning for new material - and that's always good.

The Waiting Room

2007-12-14T10:48:00.000-08:00

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.

This is the end...

2007-12-08T12:45:00.000-08:00

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.

Mulling, not unlike cider.

2007-12-07T11:04:00.000-08:00

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.

Sketch: Six Quick Sketches

2007-11-29T11:46:00.000-08:00

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…

What's Up Column: Pseudo-science Jackpot

2007-11-29T11:44:00.000-08:00

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.

What's Up Column: Gay Model

2007-11-29T11:42:00.000-08:00

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

What's Up Column: Mortality

2007-11-29T11:41:00.000-08:00

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.

Sketch: Mervyn Heimlish

2007-11-29T11:40:00.000-08:00

“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

What's Up Column: Meme and my shadow

2007-11-29T11:39:00.000-08:00

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.

What's Up Column: Fatherhood

2007-11-29T11:38:00.001-08:00

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?”

Sketch: Letters to Jesus

2007-11-29T11:37:00.001-08:00

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)

What's Up Column: Guilt

2007-11-29T11:33:00.000-08:00

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.

What's Up Column: Next Comedy Meh...

2007-11-29T11:25:00.000-08:00

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.

What's Up Column: My Global Village is Better Than Yours!

2007-11-28T11:31:00.000-08:00

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.

Sketch: Science!

2007-11-24T11:03:00.001-08:00

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)

Sketch: Murray 2

2007-11-24T11:01:00.000-08:00

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.

Sketch: Murray

2007-11-24T10:59:00.002-08:00

(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

What's Up article: Karma

2007-11-24T10:59:00.001-08:00

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.

Sketch: Buddy Cops

2007-11-24T10:58:00.000-08:00

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)

Sketch: Second Guess!

2007-11-22T15:25:00.000-08:00

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.

Sketch: The Moses Series

2007-11-22T15:24:00.001-08:00

(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)

Makes Sense Tommorow Column

2007-11-22T15:21:00.000-08:00

From an edition of What's Up Yukon.

I’ve been thinking about how people think.
I believe those amongst the more “hip”, would call my train of thought “meta”.
I was prompted onto my cognitive journey after reading recent comments from the Pope. In a respectful nutshell, the pontiff wrote that evolution cannot be completely proven, and that science has narrowed views on creation.
(Uh-oh, he’s gonna talk about creationism…)
Sort of.
Before anyone starts dusting off their favourite “Letter to the Editor” stationary, I don’t want to wade into a diatribe of why we’re all here. I want to explore common avenues of popular thought – and show you how wishy-washy they are.
I’m assuming the Pope meant that evolution couldn’t be completely proven – by science. I’m not taking any great mental leap here by stating that big “C” Creation also cannot be proven by science.
It seems strange for someone backing a wholly metaphysical entity, to refer to scientific process as a defence for their non-scientific belief system. Creationism and evolution are in completely different worlds, and it isn’t rocket “science” to see that ne’er the twain shall meet.
And yet, all of us wander down these fallacious roads all the time. Hence my fascination via how we think.
Well, hop on board; the train’s leaving the station!
Quite a lot of people drop the word karma in their daily lives. They believe that if they do something nice, some goodwill will come their way in the future. And vise-versa.
One generally held tenet here in the Yukon is that one should regularly pick-up hitchhikers, as should the day come when you need to stick your thumb, you’ll find greater success.
Sounds nice, unfortunately, I doubt many people think beyond that. Belief in karma means you have to accept there is an objective cosmic force handing out esoteric tickets.
If you’re going to hold highly abstract beliefs, don’t be lazy about it. C’mon all you Junior Theologians! You got that noodle on your body, use it!
(Also, look up the word altruism – it’s nobler concept)
Many (seemingly) completely rational folk, will tell you that they don’t believe in any particular cosmic deity. These same people do however believe that little grey aliens regularly stop by for visits and some informal probing. Just as many people believe that the deceased occasionally take it upon themselves to open and close cupboard doors in the middle of night.
People will nod their heads at plastic cards with pretty pictures that divine the future, and then scoff at the concept of transubstantiation. (Geez, do I love my five-dollar words!)
Having a firm belief in something that completely defies physical laws should make one tolerant of all metaphysical beliefs. Or so I’d like to think.
All the world’s people are completely free to believe in whatever they like, but when they pooh-pooh something they don’t believe in that is just as physically unexplainable as one of their own beliefs; it just seems ridiculous.
Show your work!
Have a firm grasp on your beliefs. And why you have them – there’s no sense in having lazy ambiguity in the ole thought-process department.
There, now I’ve given you something to chew on. Don’t worry, have a good restful sleep; it’ll all make sense tomorrow.

Monologue: The Waiter

2007-11-22T15:20:00.001-08:00

Would you look at this – I mean really – I don’t care what kind of person you are. I don’t care what you do for work, or what you’re going through in your personal life. Maybe your mother died, or you’ve just been diagnosed with butt cancer – whatever.
Whenever you pass your whip to the camel valet out there, when you walk through those beads, when you wipe your dust covered sandals on that welcome mat out there, when you park your robe covered ass on one of our chairs – there is an unspoken contract made.
I would like to think that was perfectly clear.
You’re gonna have an overall culinary experience and quite likely life-changing meal!

Who am I?
I am the vehicle of that experience – that’s my job – I’m a waiter – and I’m damn fucking good at it.
First of all, I keep myself neat – clean clothes (I beat em against the rocks myself), clean body (2 schvitzes a day – whether I need ‘em or not!). I keep an accurate, intimate knowledge of all our wines and the exact details of what the chef has prepared for the day – You see any fucking papyrus on me? Fuck no, it’s all up here.
Your order gets to your table on time – still steaming from the kitchen.
I have it down to a science exactly how much time I should take in between coming back to the table – “
How is everything this evening, Can I get you some more complimentary dates, Can I water your slaves?”
You know shit like that.
And banter? I can bring anyone to tears of laughter just goin’ through the wine list!
I’m that good.
So, given that you and your party of 12 just received the best fucking service you’ll ever get this side of the Meditaranean Sea – why would you think it’s okay to leave a 2 dinar tip. Huh? Look – one – two dinarii. I don’t carry an abacus with me, but I think I got enough math skills to realize that this is barely scraping the edge of 5%!
What the fuck!

At first, I was pretty excited – the boss – and between you and me he’s a real Roman asshole – he tells us there’s a big party booking. Now normally we have a reserve list that would make you choke on your unleavened bread. By the time we got to this one group of Sumerians and their table for 6, their civilization died out.
But this big party – 13 people – apparently some heavy-duty VIP’s, the head guy is some sort of big time political figure – popular with the people – right?
So the boss knows, as much of a dickhead as he is, that I’m the best he’s got – so naturally, I get the gig.
I set up the banquet room myself – hey, I’m a perfectionist – I wanna know exactly where everything is set. I got a system that works, and works well. I get all the chairs out, set up the giant table – a little bit of frankensense burning in the corner – crack open one of the windows – fucking great view by the way – everything couldn’t have been more picture perfect.

Then it starts –
First off, they’re a half-hour late – and I’m busting my ass already cause Meshach calls in sick – dipshit gets blitzed with his two fuckwit pals every other day – plus there’s this party of Assyrians who’ve been cooling their heels at the bar, waiting two hours to get seated – so the situation is tense already.
Thankfully the boss was out “getting more olives at the docks” – which means getting a “massage” from his Greek boytoy – so I took charge and got the VIP’s into the banquet room.
It figures they meander around as if they didn’t realize they were fucking late, then they go and start rearranging the table setting. I just kept my mouth shut as they take the chairs and shove em all on one side of the table. And not even the side with the view.
Then they all line-up and the head guy starts washin’ everyone’s feet.
I don’t own the restaurant, so it ain’t my call. But c’mon, other people gotta eat in here you know?
Whatever, no big deal, they booked the room, they can do shit like that if they want.
I try to keep out of their way as they figure out who’s sitting where – takes them long enough – then the head guy calls me over and asks me to take the Frankensence out of the room – no big deal – but as I’m going he whispers something to the guy next to him and rolls his eyes and laughs. Fucking jerk. I paid for that shit outta my own pocket.
Fine. I can go with the flow, I’m a professional.

So I get back a few minutes later – when I realize no one is saying a word. You could cut the tension with a spear. Everybody’s fidgeting and staring at the guy in the middle. I was standing there patiently, goin’ nuts, the only sounds in the room were people adjusting their robes and politely coughing.
Some guy on the end goes to pour himself a glass of water and gets an elbow in the ribs.
I was just waiting for someone to at least pick up a fucking menu or something when I spot my old squash buddy.
“Judas!” I say trying to be all friendly and then all of a sudden everyone gasps, and Judas spit-takes all over the bread.
I wasn’t sure if I fucked up or anything, but I’m a fast thinker, always on my toes right? So I take the opportunity to slide to the middle of the table and go into the specials. I’m about half-way through describing the rack of lamb with pomegranite sauce and the long-haired honcho says something.
I had to get him to repeat it twice, he talked so softly. What kind of a fucking guy goes around expecting everyone to just listen to everything he says.
“Bread will be fine”
That what the guy says.
“Bread will be fine”
So I bust my ass to the kitchen. The kitchen is the place where pros like me let off the steam of dealing with assholes like that. You’ll never notice from the beaming smile on my face but I just spent 5 minutes detailing what an asshole you are to the Louie the prep cook.
I come back and no one’s the wiser.
I got my arms loaded with some hot fresh baked joy, one trip thank you very much – but when I get there – the whole table is literally covered in bread. Baguettes, rolls, fucking pumpernickel as far as the eye can see.
I was like “Holy Shit did Isaiah hook my fucking table again? I’m gonna stab him with a spear!” but then I see the head guy pour bread out of his sleeves like he was the opening act for the Gladitorial Games or something.
Then – everyone passes over their goblets and he waves his hand over them – I’m waiting for an “Alacazam” or something – and everyone sits back down with fucking WINE!
I’m about to belt out a “You can’t bring your own booze in here!”, cause I mean we have vintages you’d sacrifice your son for, but the guy gives me a look as if I say anything, he’s gonna come across the table and hold me down while his pals beat the shit outta me.
Fuck, I’m standing there with hot bread in the middle of some magician’s funeral.
I shove what I got in the middle of this magical yeast smorgasboard and I just stand back and wait for the next part of the freakshow.
Well, yeah, I didn’t have to wait long, cause the head guy gets up with his arms raised, and immediately I go for the fire extinguisher cause I figure he gonna shoot fireworks outta his sleeves for the big finale or something, but no he just hold up his cup says:
“This is my blood – drink it in remembrance of me.”
I’m like “What the fuck?” And I wasn’t the only one, I could see at least five people gagging and when no one’s looking Judas goes and pours his cup into the azaleas.

Pretending not to notice anything is a skill one needs to hone in my line of work.
When Mary Magdalene comes in with her three o’clock and “drops her fork” under the table – you just keep the guy’s coffee freshened up – and move along – you know what I’m saying?

Man, the stuff I have to put with. You have no idea.
People say the customer is always right, that’s half true – customers are usually too fucking stupid to know what they want. I tell them what they want and let em think they came up with the idea themselves.

So the magic bread and wine weird fest wraps up after some freakin’ long yadda-yadda from the head guy. Note to self: just get to the fucking point already. Everytime someone asked him a question, he went off into a long winded, heavy handed metaphor.
I had to look out for my buddy Judas and kick his chair a few times, cause I swear, into the third story – everybody was baby-heading.

So after all that, they shuffle out – all I get from the head guy is this “What are you gonna do look” I root through the pile of random coins under the bill, it’s all in small change – do these guys have jobs at all?

Now here we are, a hellava mess, and two dinars for my putting up with that shit.
If this was my restaurant, that would have been their Last Supper.
Do me a favour, tip your waiter.

Whitehorse Weekly News Editorial #6

2007-11-22T15:16:00.000-08:00

I’ve come out of the closet – I’m an atheist.
Indeed I’ve come to make the firm decision to say: “I don’t think so” to the notion that a King Kong sized bearded Jewish man in a robe snapped his fingers and created everything “as we know it”. First of all if that were true, than I can connect the dots, attach the lines, follow the money as it were down to the creation of Adam and Eve – and place the blame squarely at God’s feet for the creation of “Two and a Half Men”.
If Charlie Sheen’s rise to fame is a part of God’s plan, then I want no part in it!
A stand for atheism is a stand for altruism! I will help my fellow man for the sake of helping my fellow man and not in fear of spending an eternity of having demons pull razor wire from my anus while Elton John sings Candle in the Wind. Doing good in fear of being punished worked just fine when the folks wanted the dishwasher loaded – “And you better fill the jet dry dispenser this time you little shit!” – But now, in this day and age, when Oprah rules the world, cackling evilly behind closed doors and Tom Cruise is slowly being dressed in oiled robes as the insane messiah for an equally fucked-up “religion” – is the old-time religion really enough?
Religion and bat-shit insane shoulnd’t be showing up as synonyms when I type them into thesaurus.com – but when the leader of the Catholic church, one of the largest religious groups in the world is daily looking more and more like the Emperor from Star Wars:
“So this is your first commuionion, you always remember your first.”
One beings to wonder if religion is a wise course of options.
Indeed, I wholly agree, Jesus is one cool mascot – one that I find difficult not to get behind. He heals the sick, raises the dead – and wine shoots from his hands – Red! White! Rose! That’s pretty fucking cool.
As for cheerleaders in the atheism world we have Frederic Neitzsche who said: “The death of God will eventually lead to the loss of any universal perspective on things, and along with it any coherent sense of objective truth. Instead we retain only our own multiple, diverse, and fluid perspectives — none of which can have a final say on things.”
That sure isn’t as sexy as “If you keep on fucking each other in the ass I’m gonna turn you into pillars of salt!”
Atheists are still working on their marketing. We’ll get there. Maybe a graphic novel first.
Can you blame me for not wanting to throw in my spiritual tack with one of the many flavours of religious fulfillment:
I mean, Catholics want you to feel guilty all the time, some Southern Baptists act like right-wing nutjobs, you really can’t throw in an application to be a Jew, Mormons get magical underwear (that’s kinda cool) – but can’t drink coffee (fucked-up), I really wouldn’t wanna go knocking on doors in the Takhini Trailer park – so Jehovah’s are out, Kabbalah’s for jewish Harry Potter fans, Satanists are automaticaly on the losing team – I read the end of the Bible, doesn’t look good for the Satanists (sorry all you Mom-hating losers in your basement sanctums – back to World of Warcraft with you!), Scientologists are waiting for the mothership – seriously – they are, and quite honestly, any group that has Mel Gibson as a member – I don’t need to be a part of.
With atheism, I do nice things cause I wanna do nice things – I also don’t have to feel guilty when I laugh at someone slipping on the ice. I can eat, drink and smoke whatever I like without sensing the disapproval of some peeping cosmic entity and my Sundays are wide open for me to get stoned and play Wii all god-damned day.
Just last week, on the traditional day of the Sabbath, I layed in bed, nursing a slight hangover with a hot cup o’ joe, my love snuggled by my side as we watched the delightful remake of Freaky Friday with Jamie Lee Curtis, Lindsay Lohan and some delightful oriental stereotypes. If I were religious, I doubt I’d even be allowed to watch Freaky Friday, and all the delightful lessons contained therin. Didja ever hear about Jamie Lee Curits being a hermaphrodite? Freaky indeed.
Being an atheist means I get to do all that, just like you, but I don’t feel guilty about it. And since being an atheism effectively means I won’t be spending an afterlife doing – well anything at all – this certainly gives me an impetus to live this life exactly however I want – in whatever way I would want to enjoy it. I’m not willing to give that freedom away.
Besides, I’ll bet Reba McIntyre and Celine Dion are going to heaven – that’s more than enough to keep me away.
Pray for my soul my religious friends, that big Jew in the sky would want you to. And besides, if I’m completely wrong, and the heavenly hosts arrive on Armageddon to lower the boom on my heathen head – you’re still not allowed to point and say: “Ha-ha!”
I am though.

Not quite a blog.

2007-11-22T15:12:00.000-08:00

I just figured I should put most of my comedy stuff somewhere else than scattered files on various work/home computers. Whatever I can cull together, that I have a particular fondness for, I'll be posting here.