Sunday, March 30, 2003


TO: God, supreme ruler of the universe

FROM: Christian Finnegan, homo sapien

DATE: 30 March 2003

RE: The fact that it's currently snowing

Fuck you.

cc: Allah
Great Spirit
Golden Calf
Divine Intelligence

Saturday, March 29, 2003


I had a few drinks last night. Oh, by the way: for the purposes of this blog entry, the word "few" will represent "15-20". Suffice to say, I got a wee bit tipsy. And after bearing the brunt of last night's all-out liquor assault, my body is staging a major uprising--blurred vision, aching muscles, etc. Only now, 12 hours later, are the details of last night's conversations coming back to me.

I get rather opinionated when I drink. Unfortunately, the more argumentative I get, the less likely the possibility is that I'll be sober enough to form cogent arguments. To quote The Daily Show's Stephen Colbert, "There's a word for that...but, ironically, it escapes me."

Anyway, last night I was really on my game. I think anyone who was there would tell you that I definitely laid the debate smackdown. Here are just a few of the things I cleared up for people last night, while shitfaced:

* Why God is a human construct, designed (and perpetually re-designed) to reinforce ethical standards of conduct specific to every culture and era
* Why Catholicism is evil
* Why, even while being evil, Catholicism is much cooler than Potestantism
* Why hardline Atheists are juvenile
* Why Cuba Gooding Jr. is a tragic figure
* Why, when a woman jokingly asks if she's hot, you should always say yes (even if she's an asshole)
* Why dodgeball should be banned
* Why dodgeball shouldn't be banned
* Why John Ritter's work on Three's Company should be recognized as a modern day extension of "Commedia dell'Arte"
* Why America is ignorant of the rest of the world
* Why America's ignorance of the rest of the world is, in part, a product of simple geography and that we shouldn't necessarily be slammed for that
* Why Jimmy Page was just as influential as Jimi Hendrix
* Why Jimi Hendrix's being left-handed was a monumental factor in the evolution of rock music
* Why nice asses are more important than big tits
* Why George W. Bush is wrong
* Why the protestors are wrong
* Why Saddam is wrong
* Why everyone else at the bar last night was wrong
* Why I am right

I tell you, it was quite an evening.

Friday, March 28, 2003


On this coming Tuesday, I will turn 30 years old. That means I only have four days left as a 20-something. After that, my poverty and love of alcohol will stop seeming whimsical and poetic. Nope--to be in your 30's and still be living like I do? The word for that is "pathetic", kids.

I'm actually looking forward to my 30's. Whenever I'd imagine being an adult when I was a young tot, I'd always imagine being 32. Yep, 25 was when I'd be at my "coolest" and 32 was when I'd become whoever the hell I was going to be for the rest of my life. I guess that means I have another two years to be a complete washout, which is a nice little cushion.

It's weird, though to think that I'll never again by in my 20's. I mean, I've been in my 20's for, like, ten years! There are so many things I'll never do again. I'll never again have that feeling of exhilaration and possibility that you had upon graduateing college. I'll never again know how it feels to play basketball for more than 45 minutes and wake up the next day feeling spry and uninjured. I'll never again know how it feels to walk into a temp agenc--

Um, strike that last one.


Thursday, March 27, 2003


I kind of mentioned this last week, but I want to give a brief eulogy for the internet. Remember when the Web actually meant something? When our lives were going to be completely different because of it? All the sites that actually offered something semi-useful or exciting have gone the way of the dodo. Dead--now, if I want to see uneducated hipsters bitching about politics, I have to turn on public access television. Kaput--these days, I actually have to leave my house in order to rent my favorite "Ernest" movies. How pre-1995 is that? A shell of its former self.

When you get right doiwn to it, there's only one industry that is still going strong on the internet. Yes, that's right: porn. It's gotten to the point where you can buy fucking opera tickets online, and the next day you'll get a spam Email that reads "CLICK HERE FOR HOT PAVORATTI GANGBANG PHOTOS!"

That's why it always makes me laugh when people still talk about getting the buying the fastest computer on the market. Because when you brag about getting an incredibly fast computer, you're essentially saying "I am an extremely impatient masturbator. I am a man on the go--I don't have time wait around for downloads and buffering! I needed that blowjob mpeg yesterday!!"

We should just get rid of all the standard computer terminology--"megabytes", "RAM", etc. From now on, computers should be judged one basis and one basis only: Tits-Per-Minute. That way, you can just walk into Circuit City and ask...

CUSTOMER: Excuse me, sir. How fast is this computer?

SALESMAN: Oh, this unit is top of the line--1500 Tits-Per-Minute!

CUSTOMER: Wow, 1500 TPMs? That's amazing. And how much memory does it have?

SALESMAN: An entire Giga-snatch.

Five years from now, everyone will be throwing "Tits-Per-Minute" and "Giga-snatch" around. But you can say that you read them here first. Lucky you.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003


Something to ponder: By 11am this morning, someone somewhere will already have talked shit about you!

Suck on that, optimists.

(Addendums: If you work in an office, at least two people will have bitched about you. And if you're a stand up comic, the number of people who'll be starting off thier day by 'hating' on you goes up to five, but the cut-off time gets pushed back to 1pm--comedians tend to sleep later, you see.)

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

As I'm sure you're all aware, The Oscars aired this past Sunday. It's way too late at night (early, really) for me to want to dissect the evening--other than Michale Moore's genuinely ballsy but typically egocentric acceptance speech, it was the normal parade of trite horseshit "sincerity" and tired Bruce Villanche one-liners. The ceremony ran for 3.5 hours but, if you can believe it, there were actually a bunch of major awards that were given out but didn't make the final broadcast. I thought it might be nice to give these winners their due*, so without any further hoopla...


Winner: Loews Porter Square 16, Cambridge, MA

Winner: Rob Jarvis, The Dangerous Yet Misunderstood Creature

Winner: John Williams, Raiders of the Extra Terrestrial Star Wars

Winner: Arthur Lampley and Marie St. Gardin, Kennel Club

Winner: Sir David Macallum, The Journey of Gary

Winner: Wendell Pritchard, King Lear

Winner: Dr. Stanley Kaskewitz, personal physician to Nick Nolte

Winner: Venus Hardknockers, Sorority Gangbang Sluts, Vol. VII

Winner: George Clooney, Solaris

Winner: Jorge Reyes, Shower, Apt. 4G

Winner: Tristan Farnham, Subjugation: The Untold History of Black, Homosexual, Pro-Choice, Vietnam-Protesting Holocaust Survivors

Winner: Colin Farrell & Anonymous Female Production Assistant, prop trailer

Winner: William Goldman, Night Moves in Katmandu

* Yes, this is pretty much the same thing I did for The Grammys, back on 2/24/03.

Sunday, March 23, 2003


One year ago today, March 23rd, I started this blog. What started as a silly forum for dick jokes and drunken rambling has, over time, evolved into...a very sophisticated forum for dick jokes and drunken rambling. Here is a selcted week-by-week overview of some of the topics covered in Tower of Hubris, Year I:

* Poopie
* Ivan Drago
* My desire to not be punched in the face
* Joe Ezterhas's 'Morning Pages'
* "Existentialicious", the new Jean Paul Satre musical
* The poetry of Pryce Martinez
* Kenny Loggins' appearance at Pudgie's BBQ and Civic Centre in Columbus, GA
* Actor Steven Dorff vs. Tim Conway's "Dorf"
* The unfortunate skirt-over-pants fashion trend
* What your favorite album says about you
* Rejected High Times story ideas
* The Mike Norton saga
* Why The World Cup can blow me
* Worst songs to have sex to
* Captain Tries-Too-Hard and Platonic Sleepoever Girl
* Dio and the unfortunate dearth of 'Wizard Rock'
* The "Nestle's $100,000 Bar" jingle
* Funderdinement
* "Sorority Life" haiku
* CSYVSBLE!!! (Considering Stalking You Via Subtle 'Buddy List' Espionage!!!)
* Why American women like to fuck Europeans
* Escalator etiquette
* Bajillions, Snorklers and Chris O'Donnell
* Jennifer Capriati's unfortunate face
* The Peripheral Superstar Aptitude Test
* Fashion Week
* Over and under-referenced 80's pop songs
* Recent additions to the nine rings of hell
* "Boo-yaa"
* The new Smiths song, "Sniper, Sniper"
* Words of wisdom from David Lee Roth
* The fact that one of my armpits is markedly less hairy than the other one
* Les Oogues
* The 'Dance Threshold'
* Kikko-mania
* The subtle alchemy of Mix Taping
* Mentally retarded people wearing leather pants
* Secret Secret Santa
* Acid wash togas and "Kiss the Messiah" BBQ aprons
* "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer"--the very sound of Down Syndrome
* Making out to Black Sabbath's "War Pigs"
* Anti-Christianfinneganism
* Production assistants gone wild
* Chet Van Orr, 80's movie asshole-for-hire
* The case against Sting
* Sbarro's
* My ongoing commitment to acne
* The $100 Blow-Your-Landlord challenge
* Overwrought R&B Performance, Male
* The Seattle Asian Dudes
* People who adopt movie catchphrases as their own
* Nostalgia for The Future

Nope, not a whole lot of emotional growth. But I can say I'm genuinely proud of at least 19% of what's been posted on this site. I'd like to sincerely thank you all for taking time out of your precious work procrastination schedule to check in here from time to time--I hope you will continue to do so.

Thanks, fuckers!

Saturday, March 22, 2003


Thank god this war started, as I've been in desperate need of a new justification for not going to the gym. After a year and a half, my whole "9/11 Trauma" excuse was starting to feel a bit silly. But now, I can once again sit in my apartment on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and watch television without guilt--so long as I flip over to CNN at least twice an hour. I mean, how can I think of doing anything so vain and pointless as spending 20 minutes on a treadmill when our nation is at war? Nope, far better to do something truly eat seven entire bags of Cheese Doodles and pound a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew.

Friday, March 21, 2003



Those of you attended last week's installment of Portable Comedy at the Gerswhin Hotel know that it was a fantastic show. The comics were all great, the audience was appreciative and fun was had by all. But I want to be very clear about this, ladies and gentleman: last week's show in no way constituted the "Shock and Awe" portion of the Portable Comedy run.

Many of you may not recall that, when Portable Comedy returned from its recent hiatus a couple of weeks ago, I forcasted a level of hilarity that would "shock and awe" comedy fans all over the New York metropolitan area. Of course, this was always meant to be a step-by-step process. Two weeks ago marked the "Mild Surprise and General Amusement" phase of Portable Comedy--quite an understatement, considering that the capacity crowd was treated to a surprise guest appearance by Comedy Central megastar Dave Chappelle. And last week's show, fantastic as it was, was still only the "Well, I'll Be!" phase of our run. But tonight, March 21st?

Shock and awe, my friends. Shock and awe.

So tear yourself away from the "fair and balanced" reporting of the Fox News Jingo Patrol and laugh your Star Spangled fanny off, with:

JONATHAN CORBETT (Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" and Montreal Comedy Festival alum and, simply put, one of the best comics in NYC)

OPHIRA EISENBERG (She's appeared on "The Guardian", "Queer as Folk" and had her own comedy special on Canadian TV's "Comedy Now!")

JORDAN CARLOS (A regular at world-famous Caroline's comedy club, where you have to pay lots and lots of dollars to see him. Not tonight, though.)

PEGGY O'BRIEN (Co-creator of "The Rules of Engagement", the short film that became a web sensation. See it at!)

TOM McCAFFREY (This guy has been tearing up the NYC comedy scene lately. He's good good good.)

Plus, the glorious, fun filled and freewheeling music and comedy of BECKY & NOELLE!

You don't remember the where and when, you say? Attendez-vous:

7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison)
$5.00, I tell you!

Come on out and enjoy tonight's show, boys and girls. You won't be sorry.

Christian Finnegan,
Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Funny

Wednesday, March 19, 2003


Hey, you! Stop checking to see just how much horse poop we're wading into! I'm not feeling too funny/enlightened today, so I'll simply steer you over to these various timewaters:

For you super cool teenage girls, here's a fun site...that just happens to be funded by the National Cattleman's Beef Association.

Here's my friend Chelsea's very entertaining Amazon wishlist.

I think I've posted this site before, but Hoogerbrugge is always fascinating and bizarre.

And speaking of bizarre, check out Superbad--just go to the site and start clicking on shit. It's kind of mesmerizing.

Oh, and how could I possibly forget: Ladies and Gentlemen, the worst poem of all time.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003


So it looks like we'll be at war as of tomorrow evening. The threat of terrorism will only get worse over the next few weeks. Gas prices are at an all-time high for the U.S. Our economy is in the shitter with absolutely no sign of getting better.

It's getting to the point where I'm nostalgiac for the future. But not "The Future" as we know it now--I'm talking about the "Future" we all thought lay ahead of us five years ago. Remember 1998? When we all thought the economy was going to keep on growing until the end of time? When, if you didn't already have one, you were right on the verge of landing a $75G per year job writing "online content" for some ultra-hip dot com that was going to change the way we all shopped / thought / ate / fucked / existed? When the worst thing you feared finding out about our President was that he liked having his balls played with while being blown? Those were the days.

I want my old future back. This future can suck my cock.

Monday, March 17, 2003


Apparently, the woman behind the counter at Rite Aid is Irish today. She was wearing a button that told me so. Incidentally, I was Black for the entire month of February.

It has become obvious to me that it is 100% impossible for anyone under the age of 65 not involved in politics or the clergy to discuss St. Patrick's Day for more than 45 seconds without mentioning drinking. Seriously, try it on someone.

Oh, and one quick thing: hearing people brag about getting blasted on St. Patrick's Day is pathetic, but even more pathetic is the guy who declares "Getting wasted on St. Patrick's Day is for amateurs! This is my one night off, man!"

Right, of course. Because you drink so much. You're extremely cool.

Sunday, March 16, 2003


So it appears that we will be going to war tomorrow, if the U.N. doesn't agree to pose a non-negotiable Bitchslap Ultimatum (yes, that is the legal term, if I'm not mistaken) to Saddam by "end of business". Tomorrow being March 17th, of course. Something tells me this isn't the first time G.W. will have done something incredibly stupid on St. Patrick's Day. Of course, no one's life was at stake when Dubya got wasted on green beer and blow and decided to take a dump in daddy's Vice Presidential slippers back on St. Patrick's Day 1981.

I for one feel pretty convinced that going to "war" with Iraq (on Iraq is probably more like it), will prove to be a huge blunder. No matter how many times G. W. and his crips try to convince me that Saddam Hussein is a genocidal maniac on the verge of dragging the world into Armageddon, I just don't feel personally threatened. I'm not saying the guy's not a douche (and a geuinely murderous one at that), it's just that I have a hard time taking Saddam completely seriously. Maybe it's because he looks so much like my Super. I mean, this guy's supposed to building weapons of mass destruction? Give me a break--it took him guy three weeks just to fix the damn shower head! How's he supposed to be wreaking global havoc when he spent the entire afternoon sitting on a milk crate outside of the bodega across the street, drinking Georgi vodka straight from the plastic bottle? What am I supposed to believe he was doing out there, plotting doomsday scenarios?


Saturday, March 15, 2003


Okay, so here are the highlights, lowlights and a few general observations from my trip to Las Vegas:

* The comedy shows themselves were a real struggle but, ultimately, a success. As to be espected, the audiences consisted of: old men, old women, lots of people wearing clothes with American flags on them (hats, t-shirts, vests, jean shorts), people staying at the Riviera for the World Bingo Equipment Trade Fair (no, I'm not joking), more old men, and still more old women. The problem is, there were also a good number of Spring Breakers at each show and as you might imagine, a 78 year old from Boca in town to play the nickel slots and a 20 year old undergrad in town to drink as many free beers as he can get his hands on have slightly different senses of humor. An encapsulating moment: I made an "off-the-cuff" remark about nearly tea-bagging a front row audience member--the group of drunken Penn State business majors went nutty (not so much laughing, as high-fiving and whoooooo-ing in approval), while the ancient biddy with the pearl eyeglass chain looks over to her dozing husband and very audibly 'whispers' "What is he talking about?"

That said, I actually did pretty well.

* Across the hall from the comedy club was the "Crazy Girls" topless revue. I was able to poke my head in (no pun intended) and watch part of the show one night and I can safely say that the "crazy" girls were mildy disturbed at best. I will never understadn the appeal of the Las Vegas topless revue. If you want to see a show, go see a show. If you want to see tits, go see tits. But why the fuck would you want to drop $50 a ticket to watch six saline-infused twits doing a kickline to Madonna's "Express Yourself"? F that, yo.

* I played a lot of Blackjack. A lot. Blackjack is an interesting game in that you spend a good deal of time sitting at a table "socializing" with people you'd probably want nothing to do with in real life--chain smoking former Allman Brothers groupies, morbidly obese dudes wearing denim pirate shirts, etc. Worst of all, though, is the "funny" gambler. This is the guy with stale jokes for every possible Blackjack situation. Such as:

"Hey there, buddy, sit on down before the seat gets too cold!"

"Hey [dealer's name], take it easy on me!"

"Okay, [dealer's name], you've been taking our money long enough--time for us to take some of yours!"

"Give me a six...hey, I thought I told you to give me a six!"

"Ooo, eleven! Looks like I'm about to double my fun!"

"You don't like me too much, do you, [dealer's name]? I mean, look at this--another sixteen! You're killing me, here!"

And Gimbot, our dealer, is staring out into space, desperately trying to stop himself from cramming a rack of poker ships down Mr. Funny Gambler's throat. Think about, he's just seen this asshole lay down more money than his family back in Bangladesh sees in an entire year, and now he's looking for sympathy? What a douche.

* Going into my last day, I was only down $25. Considering that I'd played hours upon hours of Blackjack, ordered perhaps a dozen free drinks, and consistently tipped the waitresses and dealers, I was in pretty great goddamn shape. But then I woke up on Thursday and quickly blew $30. Then, between Comedy Show #1 and Comedy Show #2, I lost another $30. But this was no matter. Because, you see, I was going to be pulling an all-nighter, which would give me plenty of time to win back all my money--in fact, I'd even make some money! didn't quite go down that way. When I finally slumped back to my hotel room to pack and check out, it was 5:15am and I was down $180.

* Now, I know that $180 isn't a whole lot of money in the grand scheme of things, but what really stung was my consequent trip to the ATM, where I had one of those holy-shit-this-can't-be-right-surely-the-bank-must-have-fucked-up moments. This happens to me far too often, where the simple act of checking my account balance becomes an utterly soul-crushing experience. I then proceed to call the bank and, with righteous indignance in my voice, verbally assault some poor customer service representative for losing hundreds (nay, thousands) of my hard-earned dollars. But then, after having my various expenditures read off to me in painstaking detail, I come back to the same sad conclusion: the bank is always right. Well, maybe not "right", but correct.

Alright, I guess that's all for now. Vegas was fun, but I'm glad as fuck to be home.

Thursday, March 13, 2003


Hey there, winners. I have 50 seconds left on the 10 dollars I put into this bullshit machine, so I'll just say this:


Back to you, Jim.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003


I am writing from a bullshit internet kiosk in the lobby of the beautiful Riviera Hotel & Casino, where I am paying a dollar a minute (a dollar a fucking minute!) just to write this. Does this not show my utter devotion to the faithful Tower of Hubris readership? I am truly a wonderful person and you people better think about what you've done lately to deserve me.

So far, my stay in Vegas has been pretty damn sweet. After hours (and hours) of Blackjack, I am only $3 dollars down. That's right--$3! And if you factor in the many free drinks I've had, you could even say I'm up. True, at around 3:15am this morning, I was in the hole $85. But then I made a remarkable comeback to give myself the opportunity to blow $20 on a motherfucking internet kiosk. This is some bullshit, I tell you.

Okay, I guessw that's going to be about it for me today. There's plenty to tell about my trip to The Strip, but it will all have to wait until I'm back in the comfortable (and free) surroundings of Astoria, Queens.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention--superstar magician Lance Burton gave me a handjob for poker chips.

Monday, March 10, 2003


Later this morning, I leave for a five day trip to sunny Las Vegas, where I will be doing stand-up comedy and trying my best not to lose the $312.57 I have to my name. Here are some other things I will try to avoid doing whilst in The Town Wayne Newton Built:

* At no point in my trip will I utter the words "Vegas, baby!" Now, I love the movie Swingers as much as the next 25-35 year old male. But I do so hate it when people take movie catchphrases and start tossing them around, as if they're their own personal sayings. This basically happens with any movie that's even remotely quotable, a la Pulp Fiction ("I'm gonna go medieval on your ass"). Is there anything more hateful then hearing someone bellow "Oh, behave!" in a shitty cockney accent and then breaking into aren't-I-hilarious laughter? It chills the blood.

* I will make a deliberate attempt to not get married.

* I will not develop Gambler's Ego. I have absolutely no business coming anywhere near a $25 Minimum blackjack table. Period. I simply have to accept that my place is at the shitty $2 tables, along with the octogenarian, fannypack-clad women and down and out mulletheads. Sad, but true.

* I will not wink knowingly to myself every time I see something kitschy. I'm sure there will be some stuff I'll definitely want to comment on, but trying to act "above" Las Vegas is a loser's battle. It's Las Vegas. It's cheesy. Get past it.

* I will not hang out on the casino floor simply to take advantage of the free drinks...I will not hang out on the casino floor simply to take advantage of the free drinks...I will not hang out on the casino floor simply to take advantage of the free drinks... (Repeat until it starts to sound believable.)

Anyway, I'm thinking there should be a computer somewhere on the premesis of The Riviera Hotel & Casino, so I'll try and file a report tomorrow.

Saturday, March 08, 2003


Last night I had the distinct pleasure of watching a bit of the new "Star Search", hosted by Arsenio Hall. First of all, what the fuck is up with Arsenio's hair these days? It looks like he's wearing a shower cap covered with chihuahua turds. Think about it: every morning, Arsenio looks at himself in the mirror and says "Yeah...perfect!" It's quite obvious the man lost some sort of wager. And if I'm not mistaken, that wager was made in 1991 and went something like "I'll bet I'm that, in ten years, I'm the biggest thing in late night television history. And, if I'm wrong, I'll walk around in public with tiny wringlets of poop dangling from my scalp!"

Aw, fuck. I have a lot more to say about "Star Search", but I just looked up and realized I'm late for my Brazilian bikini wax appointment. I'll have to keep on with this tomorrow morning. Oh well.

I will, just say this: there was a moment on last night's "Star Search" when Naomi Judd exclaimed "I just love tap dancing--especially when it's done by Whites!"

No, I'm not kidding. More later.

Friday, March 07, 2003


The following is the promotional Email I just sent out to (what's left of) my mailing list. If you're in NYC tonight and feel like having a great time on the cheap, you should definitely read on. And if you want to get on the mailing list, drop a quick note to Thanks, sexy mofos.

Hello, dear friends.

Admit it--these past three weeks have been rather gloomy. Brutal Winter weather, the world on the brink of Armageddon, and (most importantly) the seeming end of Portable Comedy at The Gerswhin Hotel.

Well, kind people, I can't do anything about the neverending snowfall or this wacky I-raq situation, but I do have some damn fine news: PORTABLE COMEDY IS BACK, AS OF TONIGHT! That's right--Friday, March 7th!

Before I get to the ridiculously great lineup we have in store for you, I need to mention one thing. You may have noticed that the 'sender' address of this Email has changed since last I wrote to you. That's because, in the three weeks since Portable Comedy temporaily bid the world adieu, my mailing list..well, simply put, it shit the bed. I have reconstructed it as best I can, but I am still missing at least a couple hundred Email addresses. Therefore, if you know ANYONE who might be interested in receiving one (and just one) weekly promotional Email regarding Portable Comedy, please encourage him/her to drop me a line at Conversely, if you have asked to be taken off this list and for some reason have now found yourself back on it, simply drop me an Email with the words "PLEASE REMOVE" in the subject heading. My sincere apologies for the hassle.

With that out of the way, let's get to the important stuff. Please join me tonight at 10:00pm and enjoy the comedic stylings of:

NEAL BRENNAN (Neal's the head writer and executive producer of "Chappelle's Show" on Comedy Central. Impressive, no?)

EUGENE MIRMAN (He's appeared on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" and Comedy Central's "Premium Blend", winners!)

DAN CRONIN (He's ALSO appeared on both "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" and Comedy Central's "Premium Blend"--yep, this show's that good.)

BECKY DONAHUE (Giving the show a good burst of estrogen, Becky's the editor-in-chief of and yet another "Premium Blend" alum.)

JOHNNY SPANISH (You may recognize Johnny from his many appearances on HBO's "Oz"--as far as I know, he never had to get naked.)

ROGER HAILES (You can see this MTV staff writer steering the ship at Boston Comedy Club every monday night.)

RUSTY WARD (In addition to his many duties bringing comedy to the various United States of this America, Rusty's also a regular columnist for Shecky Magazine.)

And, of course, here are the details:

7 East 27th Street (b. 5th and Madison)
STILL, $5.00!

I hope to see some of you at tomorrow night's show, the first installment of Portable Comedy, Mach II. You'll have a great goddamn time--I promise!


Christian Finnegan,
Vice President, Winger fan club

Thursday, March 06, 2003


I'm running around in a rather manic state today, so I don't have time to construct a proper blog entry. Still, I think you'll enjoy this. And this.

And you should definitely check out this interview with my good friend Miss Tammy Faye Starlite, one of the most talented people I've ever met.

Oh, and one more thing: My stand up comedy show, Portable Comedy returns tomorrow night after a three week hiatus! Stay tuned later today or first thing tomorrow morning for details!

Wednesday, March 05, 2003


It's no secret that I'm fast becoming a very popular and beloved figure around NYC. Therefore, I would like to institute a new policy with regards to my personal appearances. From here on in, whenever I enter a room I would like to hear ten seconds of screams and applause, a la Fonzie. Once the applause dies down, I will say something hilarious and pithy.

It will play out like this:


A large group of comedians and industry folk chat affably, laughing, shaking hands, etc. FINNEGAN enters.

FINNEGAN: Heeyyyyyy... (Ten seconds of deafening screams and applause from studio audience) That's right, folks--your crown prince of hilarity is here!

FINNEGAN strusts through the lobby and into the showroom as everyone stares, dumbfounded

CLUB OWNER: Who the fuck was that?

Crowd shrugs, goes back to chatting.


Or, this:


The BARTENDER and WAITRESS are casually removing stools from the bar

BARTENDER: Did you marry the ketchup bottles yet?

WAITRESS: I'll get to it. I just want to wipe down the tables first.

BARTENDER: Well, don't forget.

FINNEGAN barges through the front door.

FINNEGAN: Heeyyyyyyy! (Ten solid seconds of roaring applause.) Sorry ladies, whiskey's my bitch tonight!


BARTENDER: Um, we're not open yet.

WAITRESS: Fer Chrissake, it's only 10:15am.

FINNEGAN: Well, you know what they say: The early bird avoids getting the shakes!

BARTENDER: You're going to have to leave, sir.

WAITRESS: You should really consider taking a shower sometime soon.


Or finally, this:


CLERK #2 carries a mop and bucket up to the counter, where CLERK #1 is standing.

CLERK #1: Did you finish mopping the peep show area?

CLERK #2: Yeah. It took almost an hour, but i'm finally done. Let's hope that guy never--

FINNEGAN busts through front door, carrying a large bottle of baby oil and a cucumber.

FINNEGAN: HEEYYYYYY! (Roaring applause, interrupted)

CLERK #1: No! NO NO NO! Not again! Get out, sir! Get out of our store!

FINNEGAN: B-b-but I'm in the mood for love!

CLERK #2, screaming in terror, hits FINNEGAN in the face with wet mop. CLERK #1 beats FINNEGAN over the head with large dildo.

CLERK #1: Never again! Never! Never! NEVER!!


Tuesday, March 04, 2003


The San Diego Poo

The Dover 3-Hole Punchers

The Charlotte Fingerbang

The Harford Trust Fund Douchebag Art History Majors

The Denver Brie

The New Jersey Racists

The Honolulu Domestic Partnerships

The Birmingham Radicchio Salad with Goat Cheese and Basalmic Vinagrettes

The Oklahoma Terminally Ill Homeless Children

The Akron Pi

The Minnesota Homosexual Panic

The Salt Lake City Latter Day Cum Sluts

The Seattle Asian Dudes

Sunday, March 02, 2003

I wasn't going to write anything today, as I just got home for a rather suck-ass weekend of comedy in glorious Albany, NY. But Blogger seems to be going haywire, so I guess I'll just write some shit to see if it's working.

Okay, so here we go--some random pieces of dialogue from unrelated and nonexistent stories. If there's one people particularly like, maybe I'll actually write a short story around it.

"Who the hell ate all the Bacon Bits?!"

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousdand times--Wookies have male
and female genitalia."

"Um...anyone got a tourniquet handy?"

"Drop and give me twenty, Hume Cronyn!"

"Red 29! Red 29! Hut! Hut! Snuggle! Snuggle! Cuddle! Nuzzle! HIKE!"

"Calzone salesman, my ass--you're having an affair!"

"Man, if I had a dollar for every time I dropped my pants in this mall..."

"Lay off it, monsignor--if I wanted to blow my nose, I'd have done it already, capiche?

Saturday, March 01, 2003


Okay, allow me to be the first to say:

Fuck Bello.