It’s a public service film from the authors of the ultimate tome of High-larity, Comedy by the Numbers. Check it out at SuperDeluxe!
And buy the book from McSweeney’s! You deserve to be the hit of the party RIGHT NOW!
Funny Ha-Ha on August 21
Once again I will be taking a big technology break, as I’m taking my wife and kids on a road trip, up through Michigan’s Upper Peninsula onward to the Minnesota Boundary Waters for the next ten days. Ooh, I can feel the mosquitos buzzing already. Maybe this time I’ll be able to see the Northern Lights clearly. Every other time I’ve come close, I thought they were the parking lot illumination for a car dealership.
But I wanted everyone to know about an upcoming reading and hootenanny. On August 21, I’ll be taking part in the latest edition of Funny Ha-Ha, this one called “Funny Ha-Ha With A Vengeance!” Hosted by the estimable (or is it the inestimable?) Claire Zulkey, Funny Ha-Ha is Chicago’s top reading series for comedic writers. This edition will feature Mark Bazer of RedEye and the Huffington Post; Wendy McClure, author of I’m Not the New Me; wine expert Alpana Singh; standup Kumail Nanjiani; and the hilarious filmmaker Steve Delahoyde (check out all his films at http://www.irritablecolon.com.).
The reading will be at The Hideout on Tuesday, August 21, from 7 til 9. The Hideout is somewhere near Wabansia and Elston, but you’re cool enough to know where it is already, aren’t you, pet? Yes, yes. For more information, check out Claire’s site.
ROAD TRIP!!!!! PASS THE JERKY !!!
The Post Turtle
An excellent joke from my old friend, Lou Bolf:
While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75 year old Texas rancher whose hand had been caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to former Texas Governor George W. Bush and his elevation to the White House.
The old Texan said, “Well, ya know, Bush is a post turtle.” Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was.
The old rancher said, “When you’re driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that’s a post turtle.” The old man saw a puzzled look on the doctor’s face, so he continued to explain. “You know he didn’t get there by himself, he doesn’t belong there, he doesn’t know what to do while he’s up there and you just want to help the dumb shit get down.”
Article of Ol’ Fashioned Summer Fun
I apologize for the lack of postings lately, but the blame lies squarely on outside impediments: The dial-up service I’ve been dealing with lately, and the fact that I’m trying to write essays, stories and other posts to give a little boost to the profile of Recut Madness in other markets, with other readers. Not that I don’t appreciate all 7 of you out there, but I need to spread the net a little wider to pull in some new eyes.
One piece you might like is in the new issue of Lake Magazine, in which nouveau riche bozos like myself learn about the best wine tastings and ice cream shops over on Michigan’s western shore. (Actually, it’s not a bad magazine at all, and publishes a funny writer named Wade Rouse from whom you will probably hear more in the future.) My article recounts the experience of buying fireworks in Indiana, then bringing them to the cottage. I was forced to excise a passage that hinted that this was illegal, even though it is, because the magazine needed to protect its brand image. It ain’t Outlaw Biker, after all.
Anyway, the first paragraph reads thusly:
Summer in Michigan promises many refined moments. Gallery openings. Wine tastings. Sunsets on the beach. But underlying all this elegance are numerous messy jobs that need doing, jobs that take grit, tenacity and steady nerves in the face of danger.
Somebody, after all, needs to buy the fireworks.
“You don’t need fireworks,” my wife has claimed, on more than one occasion. “You just want them.”
“But how will the kids learn about handling fireworks safely if I don’t teach them?”
And if you want to read the rest, click here. Enjoy.
Murder Methods I Hope “The Sopranos” Squeeze in on Their Last Two Shows
1. Popsicle (preferably grape)
2. Braun hand blender (pronounced “Brow-oon” in honor of Brendan’s wife from Season 1)
3. Trombone
4. One of those retractable dog leashes, with a little cockapoo or chihuahua still attached at the end.
5. Tactical nuclear weapon
6. A duck (for closure)
American Sideshow
A friend of mine–actually the wife of a friend of mine–but that doesn’t make her any less of a friend–at least I don’t think it does–unless he beats her and she somehow blames me for it…..
I’ll start again. A friend of mine down in New Orleans runs a pretty funny website called “American Sideshow.” Near as I can tell Diana runs the whole shootin match. She recently printed the adventures she had with a con man who was asking her for money to start a branch of a company in China. Under the guise of sexy Russian agent Svetlana Petrokov, Diana pranks the evil internet would-be thief Mr. Chang. Read both installments–it’s terrifically funny just watching Mr. Chang refuse to give up on the fish he thinks he’s landed, even though he’ll have to deal with renegade Soviet spies and chimps with radiation poisoning. Check it out here.
Big Architecture Laffs
Check out this morning’s Beachwood Reporter for a little idea I had regarding the proposed Chicago Spire, which if it is built is bound to attract more tourists on those “Rainbow” tours.
The Beachwood Reporter is run by my buddy Steve Rhodes, and is a great place to go if you want to peel back the veneer of the reporters and coverage of Chicago politics. Not for those who think that Mayor Daley can turn wrought iron into gold, or that Barack Obama can cure the sick and the lame with just a touch. Check it out often.
Baseball Terminology That Sounds Just the Slightest Bit Kinky to Me
Golden sombrero.
Charging the mound.
Scoring position.
Small ball.
Yellow hammer.
Around the horn.
Banjo hitter.
Merkle’s boner.
Daisy cutter.
Dinger.
Frozen rope.
Fungo.
Humpback liner.
Keystone sack.
Left-handed specialist.
Nubber.
Pearod.
Punch and Judy hitter.
Soft hands.
Squibber.
Tablesetter.
Two-bagger.
Three-bagger.
Toolsie.
Worm burner.
All taken from the Wikipedia entries on baseball jargon.
“Recut Madness” Info Now on Website
It’s been a while since I’ve updated anything on my main website, but that’s because there was nothing new to talk about. Well, time brings on changes, thank god. Now I’m able to post some material about my new book on the web page. If you check it out, you’ll be able to read an excerpt and check out the cover art. You’ll also be able to see my new head shot, which will make you wonder how much hair a guy can lose in 10 years without trying.
Anyway, go here and feel your anticipation for the new book build. Only four weeks away, so they tell me.
Police Invade Wrigley Field
Just heard on the radio that the Police–yep, 270 years of rock royalty–will be playing at Wrigley Field this July 5. How long has this been out? Seems like big news to me. Wasn’t Dave Matthews Band going to play there, then pulled out? It’s only fitting–the Cubs will be dumping enough raw sewage in the hood by that time, and won’t need any help from DMB’s tour bus.
So, here’s hoping that the Police will take some song requests to personalize their visit, as they play their hits from albums like “Outfieldos d’Amour, ” “Zambrano Mondatto” and “Regatta de Henry Blanco”:
Driven No Runs
Every Swing You Take
Hole in My Glove
Message on the Outfield Wall
So(riano) Lonely
Cedeno-nicity
I Can’t Stand Losing (But I Do It Anyway)
Walking in the Winning Run
The Smarty-Pants Come in All Sizes Around Here
Found this Post-It on the wall of my office a week or two ago, a note from my eight-year-old daughter:
“Recut Madness” cover art
Now that my new book has a listing at Amazon, I think I can post the cover art here without any qualms about copyright. I couldn’t be happier with the design. Doesn’t this just look like a movie book, with the cool colors and those vertical lines in the back evoking the deco design of “The Wizard of Oz”? The theme of the book is also conveyed well, with the politicians (and by extension, zealous politics) lurking in the shadows to pounce on Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Spineless Donkey. (Although I’m still trying to figure out if those things crawling beside Geo. Bush are actually face-huggers from “Alien”.)
And on the back cover, we’ll have the Flying Monkeys, all dressed up in commando gear and toting rifles.
Brian Ajhar is the artist. You can check out his portfolio here. About 10 years ago, Brian did the cover art for a book that tried to imitate the success of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories, so I knew he’d be a good choice for doing the cover here. I love it. Couldn’t be happier. Now I’m just waiting to get copies in my hot little hands.
The HungerDunger Proxy
It only took me a few months to notice, but somehow more than 6 months of my posts last year have disappeared into the ether. My host ISP has no idea where they could have gone, by gosh. What’s weird is that it happened in the middle of my archive. Everyone’s stumped, so it looks like my witty observations about monkeys, baseball and profanity are lost to the ages.
There’s one post I do remember, though, and that’s because it’s in verse. Maybe the lesson here is to write all my posts in verse. Then I can get work composing eddas like an ancient Icelandic poet, though it would be hard to rhyme the names of most newsmakers today, except Barry Bonds.
The limerick in question was a group effort. The first four lines came easily enough, but I was so incapable of finishing it that I sent word out to my writing group irregulars, The Hungerdungers, for their help. And here, an ode to a battle in the culture wars, is what they came up with:
Lesbians, gays and transgenders
Work hard on their social agenders.
While bisexuals try
With a girl or a guy–
If it’s warm, they’re game to upend ‘er.
I’m patiently waiting for a phone call from the folks at the Norton Anthology of Poetry.
Barry Bonds Limerick Challenge
I had no idea when I suggested it that the subject of Barry Bonds would beckon the muse Calliope into the hearts of my pals. More than likely, it’s because his name is so mellifluous and works well in the limerick form–“Da da dada da Barry Bonds“, or “When Barry Bonds dada da Da“–and because his colossal head is so freakish that it reminds people of Renaissance paintings of Baby Jesus with the features and limbs of a fat 30-year-old.
But whatever the reason, 12 limericks have been submitted, and Barry hasn’t even reported for training camp yet. We could have an entire chapbook ready by Opening Day!
To read the entries or submit your own, click here.
A Bears Fan Sticks By His Word
My friend in Indianapolis sent me this news item a couple of days ago. Because his email had no source for the story, I thought it was apocryphal. (Note to Indiana readers: “Apocryphal” means “made-up”.) But now that it’s in the mainstream press, I guess it was for real.
Bears Fan To Change Name To Peyton Manning
Lost Super Bowl Bet Leads Die-Hard Fan To Take Name Of Colts’ MVP Quarterback
I guess it just proves that Bears fans are good hearted and true, live up to their promises, and say stupid things when drunk.
When my Naptown friend asked me whether I would be die-hard enough to change my name, I told him yes, and that I was already in process of doing so.
My new name? Blomey Yafugginoosier.
Sounds rather mysterious, no? Like a courier or double-agent in a spy novel.