A Brief Dialogue between the Tortoise and the Guru

November 23, 2009

The tortoise probably looked something like this.

“You know,” said the Guru, “there’s nothing better than Eternal Happiness.”

“What about a leaf of lettuce?” asked the Tortoise, who was quite fond of the shrubbery.

“A leaf of lettuce isn’t nearly as good as Eternal Happiness.”

“But it’s better than nothing, right?”

The Guru shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it’s better than nothing, but–”

“So if a leaf of lettuce is better than nothing, and nothing is better than Eternal Happiness, then by simple logic, a leaf of lettuce must be better than Eternal Happiness!” And with that, the Tortoise munched a large chunk of lettuce. “Mmm-hmm,” he said.

“I think you’re missing the point,” said the Guru.

“I think you are,” said the Turtle, who was chewing in preparation to swallow.


The Un-Guarantee

November 23, 2009

“It’s not un-guaranteed,” she said to me.

“Does that mean I’ll get a guarantee?” I asked.

“No, but it doesn’t mean you won’t, either.”

“I see.”

“We haven’t explicitly stated that you won’t be getting a guarantee.”

“But will I?”

“I won’t say no.”

“But will you say yes?”

“Definitely not no, but yes?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe.”


The Guy Who Invented McNuggets

November 19, 2009

Man, I have got to start watching The Wire. The dialogue in this clip is top-notch, and the message is there, too.

EDIT: The chicken nugget was actually invented in the 1950s by Robert C. Baker, a food science professor at Cornell University, and it was published as an unpatented academic work. It was merely one of his more than 40 innovations involving poultry, turkey, and cold cuts. Among them were the development of revolutionary way to bind breading to chicken, co-inventing the chicken de-boning machine, and inventing the turkey and chicken hotdogs.

He is known as the “Thomas Edison” of poultry, and his name and life’s work are enshrined in the American Poultry Hall of Fame, where he will live on forever or at least until the chicken museum runs out of money.

Chicken McNuggets, on the other hand, were developed by Tyson Chicken on commission for McDonald’s in 1979, and first released in 1980. Baker’s inovations allowed the nugget-maker to shape the nuggets however they pleased, and McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets come in three shapes: the “Tombstone,” the “Boot,” and the “Circle.”

It seems, as theorized in above clip for The Wire, that the only people who made any real money off the nugget are the people on top. Go figure.

(Information used in this article comes, as always, from Wikipedia. Specifically, the articles on chicken nuggets, Chicken McNuggets, and Robert C. Baker himself.)


To Do List (Re: Stand-Up Comedy)

November 19, 2009

I specified that this list is explicitly re: stand-up comedy because my regular to-do list would include applying for grad schools, getting a job, and finishing my novel. Those things are boring.

Stand-up, I hope, might be a little more engaging. This is a list of things I need to work on most in my stand-up routines. Hopefully, this will help other stand-up comedians who might be at the start of their career and struggling with the same things.

1. Looking up and at people.

Too often, I stare down at the ground or into a vague no-man’s land in between two audience members. This is bad. I need to make eye-contact with people in the audience, or at the very least force my head to stay at eye level.

2. Punchlines.

Sometimes, I think a joke will work just because the topic is funny. Two nights ago at the St. Charles Coffee House, I described Twilight as “a book about a girl who moves to a town, falls in love with an older man, abandons her friends, and devotes her whole life to him. Then, at the end of the story, she gets beat up in a fight and he convinces her to claim she ‘fell down some stairs.’”

First of all, everything in that speech actually happens in the book. Even the bizarre potential allusion to the common lie used to cover domestic violence. However, there’s no punch line. No point where the audience is instructed to laugh.

Now, I’m not saying jokes half to be setup/payoff and that punchlines need to be hammered home, just that there should be definitely moments where the joke occurs and where the audience may respond by laughing. For example, when I was  earlier talking about crystal meth, I said “it’s a national epidemic, like swine flu or Twilight” and that got big laughs, because there’s an easy-to-spot joke in it.

3. Body Language.

Too often, I keep both hands on the microphone the entire set. It’s a nervous habit, but once I get started, it’s difficult to stop. And when I take one hand off the microphone, I tend to make the same repetitive hand gestures, over and over again, which isn’t much better.

I need to work on stepping back from the microphone and letting the mic stand do its job.

4. Posture.

I guess this is really a part of “Body Language,” but I think it deserves a separate category because I’m really bad with it. Often, I never properly adjust the microphone stand, so I spend my entire routine hunched over, with my head down. I need to stand up straight to project confidence, even if I’m nervous as hell.

5. Practicing my material.

I need to practice my routines at home more, going over the lines and refining them into their sharpest form. I almost always improve my material by selecting every single word individually, but often when I’m going to an open mic, I choose to just wing a bit or too. While improvisation can be good (see Eddie Izzard), I still need to practice more, so that I know when to improvise and when to stick to the script.

6. Speaking more slowly.

This one is pretty obvious. Sometimes I race through my material, if I slow down, it will be more effective, and also I’ll need fewer jokes per minute, which is a nice side-effect as it means less work for me.

7. Developing a unique style.

Sometimes I find myself making easy jokes for the guaranteed laughs. Last night at St. Charles, I actually started cursing more because I could tell it was getting yuks from the audience (though there were diminishing returns with each “fuck”). I actually planned to start with a joke about the weather, for crying out loud! (And not even a good one!)

I need to work on developing my own unique style. This, I think for me, means more ridiculous situations that involve pop-culture figures (such as my Cannibalism on Gilligan’s Island material, or my Vanna White is Addicted to Vowels bit). I need to learn how far I can carry a single routine, and I need to push it at least that far, instead of getting nervous and moving on.

8. Performing more often.

Again, this is self-explanatory. I can count the number of stand-up performances I’ve done in the last year on my two hands (that means it’s less than ten, for those of you who don’t know how many fingers I have). Only by performing in front of a live audience will I get any better, and only then if I do it consistently. With regards to this, I am going to try to perform at least once a week. That’s not a lot, but it’s something.

So, there we go. Those are my eight to-dos when it comes to stand-up comedy. Posting them in public like this should force me to work on them more, and maybe other aspiring stand-up comedians will read this and realize that they are making the same amateur mistakes.

As always, comments/questions/complaints?


The Worst Swearword of All Time

November 19, 2009

According to Jon Ronson (author of Them and The Men Who Stare at Goats), it’s “limone.”


The St. Charles Coffee House (Now with Video!)

November 18, 2009

The last two minutes of a five minute routine I did at the St. Charles Coffee House. In the first three minutes, I talked about Andre Agassi’s meth problem, Pot Twinkies, and Twilight. Everybody else’s full set got posted, but only the last two minutes of mine. I don’t know what happened, but I suspect a coven of tennis-playing DEA vampires (who sparkle in the sunlight).

Anyway, I don’t think I did that good in this routine (I believe the word in comedese is “bombed”), but I figured I should post it anyway. I hope you enjoy!


The Case for Scooby-Doo and Shaggy’s Drug Use

November 16, 2009

I’m not the first person to say this, and I certainly won’t be the last, but it needs to be established, factually, through irrefutable argument, that Scooby-Doo and Shaggy are potheads.

This has been addressed before within the Scoobyverse. In the 2oo2 movie, Shaggy’s love interest is named “Mary Jane,” exhibiting an identical level of subtlety as the movie Half Baked. But references in the 2002 film do not change the facts of the matter as they exist in the original 1969 TV program “Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?” However, I nevertheless contend that the original show provides a substantial amount of evidence to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Shaggy and Scooby-Doo are not just casual smokers of marijuana, but certifiable potheads.

For one, they eat constantly. And they don’t just eat constantly: they eat anything constantly, the weirder the better, the more indulgent the better. Pizza with ice-cream, Worcester sauce with ice cream, pretty much anything with ice-cream. Not only that, but at the request of famed Top 40 DJ Casey Kasem, the original voice of Shaggy, the character is almost always depicted as a vegetarian. And, of course, we know that all twenty-something male vegetarians are stoners. It’s an irrefutable fact.

Additionally, they are lazy. “Go investigate that haunted house,” Fred says. “Fuck that,” say Shaggy and Scooby. “We’re staying here. There’s tons of shit to eat out here, and we’re happy just hanging out in the van.”

“But there’s a mystery to solve,” Velma reminds them.

“This is rucking ridiculous,” Scooby says. “I’m a rucking rog. Re’re not rupposed to re investigating raranormal activities.” (Did I overdo the Rs? Perhaps.)

Freddy, of course, is the white Protestant male elite. There is no other way to explain his leadership of the group. He gives all the orders but does none of the work, he never gets chased by the monster, and if he does, he never has to do something demeaning to get out of it like pretend to be the monster’s friend or confuse him with a poor facsimile of a diner. “Oh, Mr. Monster, of course, we recommend the soup du jour,” and the monster seems confused, but enticed, and when he’s finally fallen for it, Scooby and Shaggy bolt.

Which of course makes absolutely no sense, because we learn in fifteen minutes that it was a well-educated local running some kind of real-estate scam. “I’ll scare you off the property, and then I’ll be able to buy it for nothing so I can search for the gold alone! Bwahahaha!”

But, of course, the only people who ever seem to talk about the place is the guy himself, who earlier told the Scooby gang not to go to a certain place, which is the only reason they ended up going in the first place. So they’re really biting themselves on the ass with that one.

But Freddy’s privilege is a topic for another day. Back to the stoner issue.

Exhibit C: They are paranoid. Every week they run into one of these supposedly supernatural mysteries, and every week it’s the same thing: guy in a costume. This is one thing I like about Scooby-Doo. It’s the opposite of the X-Files.  In the X-Files, every single episode it turns out to be the least likely explanation. Every time! You would think at least one of the time it would have just been a regular crazy person. But on Scooby-Doo, every time it was a guy in a suit.

And yet, every time Scooby and Shaggy are terrified. They think this is the time it’s a real monster, man. Don’t you see, man? Those other fake monsters have tricked us into a false sense of complacency, man! Don’t you get it?

Fourthly, and I’ve alluded to this before, but THEY LIVE IN A VAN. Now, I know this implicates Freddy, Daphne, and Velma to a degree, as well, but I never felt like their whole existence was the van. Certainly, Daphne had well-to-do parents. Freddy could have expected an easy middle management job in his father’s company when he returned home, and Velma was clearly college bound.

Not so for Shaggy and Scooby. Possessing no apparent skills save an ability to pose as the bait in monster traps (guy-in-a-suit-pretending-to-be-a-monster traps, I guess), they seem to have nothing waiting for them at home.

Number Five: they never drive. They always just hang out in the back of the van, goofing off (or eating). While this might not alone convict them, certainly the preponderance of evidence that came before would.

If you’re not convinced now, you never will be.


Judah Friedlander Show Cancelled

November 14, 2009

Well, my scheduled appearance at the University of Arkansas on November 21st, opening before 30 Rock’s Judah Friedlander, has been cancelled or postponed. (Personally, I’m really hoping for postponed.) I’d really been looking forward to it, so as you can imagine I’m pretty bummed out. Not only was meeting Judah Friedlander going to (presumably) be awesome, and not only was I going to get to perform to the amazing audiences at the University of Arkansas, but I was going to get to do 30 minutes, which would have been a great learning experience.

Apparently, 30 Rock made some changes to their shooting schedule, necessitating Friedlander cancelling his performance at the U of A (and possibly others–I’m not quite sure). So I’m torn: 30 Rock is my favorite show (and Thursday’s episode, “The Problem Solvers,” was as good as any), and yet now I am compelled to hate it.

Hopefully, we’ll reschedule soon. I want to try out for a religious comedy called Incorruptible this Spring at the Columbia Entertainment Company, but if we haven’t rescheduled by then, I think I’ll hold off. I would hate for there to be a conflict that would cause me to miss such an awesome opportunity.

Anyway, the main reason I wanted to post is that I’d written some good Thanksgiving material that I’m now not going to be able to use, so I thought I would put it up here.

Me: “I’m really looking forward to Thanksgiving, but only because it marks the halfway point between the awesome Halloween and the incredibly awesome Thanksgiving. I feel a little unpatriotic dissing on Turkey Day, on account of it and the Fourth of July are really the two ‘American’ holidays. And, of course, we celebrate them in typical American fashion: Thanksgiving by eating and Fourth of July by blowing shit up.”

Me, continued: “Thanksgiving is the generic holiday. You stuff yourselves, and we Americans don’t need a national holiday to tell us to stuff ourselves. That’s what Hardee’s advertisements are for. Come on, you eat at every holiday. Halloween has candy, but you also have costumes and legally being allowed to scare children. Christmas has a feast, but it also has the reason for the season–presents. Thanksgiving is like the car that you get for the price in the advertisements: sure it runs, but there’s no anti-lock brakes, power steering, and by runs I mean you and your friends have to physically run to power it, like they do in The Flintstones.

I was still working out how to deliver that last line, but I think I would have figured it out by next Saturday. Ah, no matter: I came up with a cool idea today for a long-form blog project that’s sort of a re-imagining of something I wanted to try over the summer. I’ll be debuting it here in the next week or so. So I’ve got that to think about now!


Stand-Up at the St. Charles Coffee House

November 11, 2009

Earlier today, I drove the hour and forty-five minutes to the St. Charles Coffee House in St. Peters, MO, and I have to say, it’s an excellent place to perform open mike anything. It’s clean, there’s no cover, the coffee is delicious, and everyone is nice.

Everyone else was doing the singer-songwriter thing, so I was the only funnyman, which in a way made things a lot better. Doing open mike (mic? abbr. are not my spec.) comedy with fifteen other up-and-coming1 comedians means that you’re inevitably compared to all the rest of them, and no matter how good you do, there’s always someone who told a joke that got a bigger laugh, or had fresher material, or was more comfortable on stage, and that can be a little disheartening. Being the only comedian meant that my performance could be judged independently. I was also able to make a few introductory jokes about being the only one not singing, so that was nice, too.

Tonight, one of the open mike musicians happened to be Devon Allman, Greg Allman’s son, and therefore, Duane Allman’s nephew. He was apparently old friends with the MC: they met each other in “the pen,” as Devon explained it. The MC clarified that he meant Guitar Center. Having been to a few Guitar Centers myself and witnessed first-hand the overly-aggressive sales tactics they employ, I think I side more with Devon’s version.

I wanted to say something to Devon, but having never heard his band (or even of him) before tonight, I was at a loss. “I’m a big fan of your late uncle’s”? Doubtful. He sat right next to me though, and I eagerly texted every Allman Bros.-fan that I knew to tell them. He played a few songs with the MC, including a cover of “All Along the Watchtower” that was really great.

When the show was over, I claimed I had joked so well that I made Devon Allman look like the son of a talentless hack. (And Andrew’s trying to use that comment to start a feud between me and the rocker. When I told him this could only end bad, he said that rappers do it all the time, so what’s the worst that could happen? I reminded him that rappers get shot all the time, too.) That’s not true, though. He rocked it out, and I did pretty well. It ain’t like I’m Jerry Seinfeld’s kid or anything, though, so I’m gonna call it a wash.

And, since Devon went on before a guy who went on before a girl who went on before a guy who went on before me, by the transitive property, he opened for me. That’s one for the resumes, right?

1. Patton Oswalt discusses the three kinds of people you see at open mikes in his brilliant Werewolves and Lollipops. They are as follows: the people who are funny but unoriginal, the unique voices perfecting their art, and the crazies.


Less Famous Time Travel Paradoxes

September 8, 2009

Everybody’s heard of the Grandfather Paradox, where you go back in time and kill your grandfather, thus causing yourself to never be born, thus causing you never to travel back in time and kill your grandfather, thus trapping you in an unresolvable temporal paradox.

But this isn’t the only time travel paradox that can happen, or even the most likely (who would want to kill their own grandfather?). So I have uploaded this list of less famous time travel paradoxes, along with my personal theories (as a self-proclaimed doctor of timeology) as to how each would resolve.

The Holy Grail Paradox

A time-traveler is on the quest for the Holy Grail. He feels pretty confident, and he is absolutely sure that he will eventually find it, so to save himself some work, he travels into the future and–sure enough!–there his future self is, staring at the Holy Grail in awe. The time-traveler grabs the Holy Grail and returns to his original time line, where he is so amazed that he is holding the relic in his hands that he stares at it in awe for some time. Suddenly, a time vortex opens and his past self jumps out and grabs the Grail from him, before disappearing into the past.

How it Resolves Itself: In actuality, the time-traveler discovers that the Grail he originally stole from himself was really just a dirty cup from the kitchen sink.

The Pizza Slice Paradox

A cartoon rendiction of a wild pizza, the animal that is hunted and killed so that we may enjoy its delicious cheeseflesh.

A cartoon rendiction of a wild pizza, the animal that is hunted and killed so that we may enjoy its delicious cheeseflesh. This animal features heavily in some temporal paradoxes.

A time-traveler eats a delicious slice of pizza and enjoys the experience so much, he travels back one hour and eats the same slice of pizza before he originally ate it. Therefore, no pizza existed for him to eat originally. Additionally, the two slices (the same slice twice) are digesting simultaneously in the time-traveler’s stomach.

How it Resolves Itself: Indigestion.

The Dance Move Paradox

A time-traveler sees someone else on the other side of the club do an amazing dance move. Since the time-traveler is a highly skilled dancer, he realizes that it is a new move and that its inventor will become both rich and famous, so he gets in his time machine and travels back in time and goes back to the same club, where he debuts the move on his own.

How it Resolves Itself: As it turns out, the move was never that good to begin with, and it was only the subtle power of unconscious self-love that had caused the time-traveler to admire the dance to begin with. Therefore, however this paradox resolves, it will be of no interest to the competitive choreography industry.

The Blog Post Paradox

Time traveler runs a blog at gregkarber.com. However, he’s completely out of ideas, so he time travels into the future and forces himself at gunpoint to come up with some ideas, knowing the eventually he will be held at gunpoint for ideas. Fortunately, when he is held at gunpoint, he won’t actually have to write the ideas, since he will have already stolen them at gunpoint from himself previously.

How it Resolves Itself: None of the ideas are very good, especially the one entitled “Less Famous Time Travel Paradoxes.”