TIME'S A-RUNNIN' SHORT!


Friends,

If you haven't been to Portable Comedy lately, you'll want to get on that tout de suite. Why, you ask? Because once October ends, Portable Comedy at the Gershwin Hotel will be a thing of the past. Yes, 'tis true. The fine people who own the Gershwin Hotel have decided to gut the hotel's lobby and replace it with something even MORE attractive to fannypacked midwesterners and wandering Eurotrash. Anyway, I have been informed that they will no longer be renting out the space for comedy shows, so...c'est finit. The show may return again sometime in the future in a different space, but this month's shows will definitely be the last of 2003.

So what does that mean to you, purveyor of topnotch comedy and free vodka? It means that there are only two or three (still awaiting confirmation on a final Halloween show) more chances to come on out and see the comedy show that "Time Out New York" has been recommending for over two full years!

And luckily for you all, tonight's show kicks anus. That's right, I said anus.

Please come and enjoy the hilariousness of:

ANDRES du BOUCHET (Host of Giant Tuesday Night of Amazing Inventions, perhaps the VERY BEST comedy show in NYC. Seriously, it's that good. And so is he.)

RITCH DUNCAN (Editor-in-Chief of Jest Magazine, which was recently praised in the Village Voice's "Best of NY" issue. Copies of Jest Magazine will be available at the show--gratis, of course.)

ERIN FOLEY (She's appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" and at comedy clubs all over the city.)

LIAM McENEANEY (He's also appeared on "Premium Blend" and is a contributing writer for Jest Magazine.)

KAREN SNEIDER (She's a contributing writer for Jest Magazine and doyenne of the underground comic scene.)

and me, CHRISTIAN FINNEGAN (Dork.)

PLUS MORE!

Here, again, is the where and when:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

Show up, before it's too late!

Christian Finnegan,
hostmeister

Holy crap, it's...

WHAT MY FAVORITE ALBUM SAYS ABOUT ME, Vol. IX!!!!

REM "Automatic for the People" -- There was a time when I wanted to affect global change. These days, I just want health insurance.

UNCLE CRACKER -- I've never read a book that wasn't assigned to me by a teacher (and even those I skimmed).

COLDPLAY "A Rush of Blood to the Head" -- I am like khakis: too square for the rock club, not square enough to impress anyone in the boardroom.

LIL JON & THE EAST SIDE BOYZ "Kings of Crunk" -- I enjoy making exagerrated hand gestures while speaking.

CLAY AIKEN "Measure of the Man" -- Punch me in the face. Right now. Seriously, I'm begging you.

PEACHES "The Teaches of Peaches" -- I only listen to music when I can be sure that other people are listening to me listening to it.

KEITH SWEAT "Make it Last Forever" -- My daughter's teenage friends avoid being left alone in a room with me.

DIRTY DANCING "Original Motion Picture Soundtrack" -- No less than four men have come out of the closet since dating me.

WILL SMITH "Big Willie Style" -- I have a serious heart condition and must avoid excitement at all costs.

THE SCORPIONS "Love at First Sting" -- Ich bin total standig in schaukeln und in partying!


NOTE: A couple of these are modified versions of old ones. Not that anyone would have noticed...

VIVA LAMBUEL!

You know, try as I might I just can't figure out whether or not this is for real. Seriously, check it out, including the various links along the lefthand side--you'll be reading along thinking "Oh, surely this is a joke", and you'll come across something and think "Holy shit, I think they're serious". The fact that one of the group's main stated goals is to shut down a rather well known fake religious website (Landover Baptist) makes me suspicious, but I just don't know, man... If it's a fraud, then it's an extremely thorough and well-executed one. And if it's for real? Well, then it's even more of a treasure.

Lambuel's thoughts on Hinduism and Atheism are especially insightful, I think.

(Thanks to John Batchley for the link.)

SCANDALOUS!

I joined a Fantasy Football league this year. Yes, I know--I'm extremely cool. Thing is, it's only six weeks into the season and I'm already bored shitless by it. I love sports, but I just don't have the energy to labor over some Yahoo site week after week to make sure that I have the proper wide receivers "playing" that day, and the proper running back on the bench. But the set-up of Fantasy Football still intrigues me. What I''d like is if there were a Fantasy Scandal League whereby each competitor would select a "team" of particularly scandal-prone celebrities and be allotted points according to how much trouble their �draft picks� got into that week.

And, just like with Fantasy Football, there could be some sort weekly report, to give you on advice on who you should trade, who you should keep, etc.

A la...

And now it�s time for the Fantasy Scandal Report, brought to you by the law offices of Robert Shapiro�if you�re a celeb in trouble, call Shapiro on the double!

Those of you who were smart enough to grab up R. Kelly can expect big numbers this week, as details of the R&B crooner and amateur videographer�s romp with an underage girl are finally made public in a preliminary court hearing. With more girls coming forward every day, Kelly is definitely having an MVP type season. Just sit back and rake in the points.

After a long period of relative normalcy, Courtney Love came roaring back onto the Fantasy Scandal radar this past week after she was arrested for breaking windows at the Beverly Hills home of her ex-boyfriend/producer. Courtney�s stock could soar even higher if, as expected, it�s determined she was acting under the influence of a controlled substance. Talk about hitting the jackpot! All of you who got frustrated with all of Courtney�s �rational behavior� and traded her have to be kicking yourselves right about now. But it�s just goes to show you, folks--you can never count out a veteran like Courtney Love.

On the other hand, I think it may finally be time to dump Robert Downey Jr. from your Fantasy Scandal rosters. I never thought I�d say this, but it appears that sobriety is agreeing with Downey this time around. It may come back to haunt me, but I don�t think you can count on him falling off the wagon any time soon. Better to trade him now, while his value is still high. For one Downey Jr., you should be able to pick up three or four Corey Feldman types.

My Fantasy Scandal Sleeper of the Week is former �American Idol� runner-up Justin Guarini. Sure, he�s all smiles and dandelions on the outside, but Guarini has been distraught lately over poor record sales and the box office failure of From Justin to Kelly. Insiders tell Guarini�s about to snap and is even money to brandish a firearm in someone�s face by year�s end. Hard to believe, I know. But just think about how many points you�d be racking up right now if you�d followed my advice to trade for Kobe Bryant a few months ago! Other solid trade prospects include Matthew Perry, Haley Joel Osmont and Winona Ryder, who finishes up her public service this week and just might be feeling rambunctious again.

And for the 412th week in a row, my Fantasy Scandal Dud is�you guessed it: Betty White.

R.J.F., A MAN AMONG MEN

It's my dad's birthday. He turns 59 today. That's pretty cool I guess, but in ten years, his birthday is going to be so hilarious. 69, dude! WOOOOOOOOO!

Anyway, please say it with me, people:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROBERT JOSEPH FINNEGAN OF ACTON, MASSACHUSETTS, THE MAN FROM WHOSE LOINS I ONCE SPRANG AND TO WHOM I AM STILL, AFTER THIRTY YEARS ON THE PLANET, A CONSTANT EMOTIONAL AND FINANCIAL BURDEN!!!

My dad is truly an ace and in all sincerity, I want to take this moment to thank him in advance for all of the love, the support, and for the three hundred bucks I plan on guilting him into loaning me until the end of the month.

READ IT AND ROCOGNIZE, MOFOS!

Dearest friends,

The nightmare is over. Remember that wave of emptiness and that washed over you last Friday night at 10:00pm? That was the feeling of there being no Portable Comedy with which to give your life meaning. And WHY was there no show last week? Was it because:

A) I, your host, decided to skip the show in favor of a six hour self-administered pelvic massage?

B) All of the comics booked for last week's show decided to boycott in response to the new "100% California Recall material" policy I'd planned on instituting?

C) The Fire Department shut the show down after seeing how hot I looked in my sequined chaps and "FREE MUSTACHE RIDES" t-shirt?

D) The Gershwin Hotel cancelled the event so they could hold their annual "Finnish Saunafest", where stockbroker-cum-scenesters and their Mojito-swilling girlfriends strip, don terrycloth robes and awkwardly socialize to bad techno music?

The answer is, of course, D. But have no fear, frugal fans of comedy excellence: PORTABLE COMEDY IS BACK TOMORROW NIGHT, FRIDAY 10/10! Now's your chance to see why the show is recommended every darned week in "Time Out New York".

Please come join me, a fresh supply of FREE frathouse vodka and my guests:

CHRIS REGAN (Two time Emmy Award-winning writer for "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart")

ROB PARAVONIAN (He's appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend", "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn" and VH1's "Backyard Barbecue")

ALLEGRA BARNETT (She performs regulalry at big time comedy clubs, like Stand Up NY and Carolines on Broadway)

BRYAN OLSEN (He's appeared in the Toyota Comedy Festival and is a veteran of Boston's beloved "Comedy Studio")

MAX LANCE (Probably the youngest guy ever passed at the world famous Comic Strip Live--the youngest I'VE ever met, at least)

And MORE, people! That's right, I said it: MORE!

Here are the all-important details:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave.)
10:00pm

If you don't come to the show, I'll sic my white tiger on you.

STRANGELY, HE'S NEVER MADE REFERENCE TO RED HEAT IN ANY OF HIS SPEECHES...

In yesterday's 'comments' section, a woman who is definitely not my step-mother asked for (nay, demanded) my take on the election of Arnold Schwarzenegger to the Governorship of California.

A perfectly reasonable request, I suppose. I am a comedian. This is a comedy website. And the election of an Austrian bodybuilder, horrible movie actor and serial groper whose father just happened to be an active member of the Nazi Party to the most powerful seat in the fifth largest economy in the world is, ostensibly, "funny". And yet, I have to this day never written a single joke about the California recall. You see, it's just too damn...there.

You see, every once in a while, something will appear in the news that is so ridiculously joke-ready, it becomes virtually untouchable, by virtue of its obviousity (yes, i just made that word up). I mean, why would I want to touch "Governor Scwarzenegger" when the territory has been covered by every late night monologue writer, open mic comic and middle-aged tax attorney in the civilized universe? I mean, there are peripheral things about the Governor-elect that I do think are funny--for example, his desperate need to work movie catch phrases into every single speech. And I suppose I could write a semi-funny pseudo testimonal about "Ahnold" (spelling it that way never gets old, by the way) inappropriately touching my male breasts in 1985 while I was working as an extra on the set of Red Sonja, but do I have anything truly revelatory to say about the situation? I think I'll just leave the Schwarzenneger jokes to those "hilarious" Emails that your aunt in Wisconsin is constantly forwarding to you.

In case you're keeping score, here are a few other seemingly obvious joke topics I've left untouched over the past few years:

* The Catholic priest scandal
* The Mike Tyson ear-biting incident
* Marv Albert
* Osama tapes
* Siegfried and Roy (pre neck-biting)

Although, now that cracking jokes about Siegfried and Roy has been rendered completely inappropriate, I suddenly feel compelled to add my two cents. After all, think about it: Siegfried and Roy have gone from being a cautionary tale to being...well, a completely different kind of cautionary tale. I mean, I know the guy is barely clinging to life, but at what point in a life spent fucking with wild animals for the amusement of fannypacked morons are you officially "asking for it"?

That's probably not very nice, is it? I guess from this point forward, I'll keep all of my "gay lion tamer" jokes to Siegfried and Siegfried alone.

So I'm back in New York and very happy about it. I mean, South Florida is grand and all, but there really is nothing like New York City in the Fall. Everyone has a genuinely invigorating "let's get to work" mindset and the crisp autumnal air does a wonderful job of masking the sidewalks' familiar urine-ee scent.

By the way, I know it's verboten for a stand up comedian to bring up the subject of air travel, but I pulled a notably boneheaded move in the West Palm Beach airport and I feel like I need to share. Kambri and I had just gotten through the security checkpoint, her about ten feet in front of me. She called back to me to ask what gate we were looking for. "C4," I said. And then, for some inexplicable reason, I added, "Like the explosive!" Yes, I was bellowing about explosives in a crowded airport.

I really don't know what came over me. Am I truly that big of a moron? I wasn't trying to be funny, I was just trying to make it clear that I'd said C4, as opposed to D4, E4, etc. Man, I wish I could have bottled the withering look of horror and disgust that Kambri flashed in my direction--the minute we made eye contact, I felt like one of those guys with the melting faces at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. But who could blame her--I almost got us sent to Guantanamo, fer chrissake. Luckily, Karma gave me a hall pass.

And now, a picture of me and my far-too-hot-for-me girlfriend on the balcony of the condo where we were staying:



See how she's strategically positioned so as to partially mask my husky frame? I'm always thinking, people.

CLUBBER LAME

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dance clubs? Even at my youngest and most indiscriminantly horny, I was never been able to rationalize the idea of standing around some cramped Douchebag Preservation Zone, listening to horrible techno music and sipping on a $14 Rolling Rock, all on the hopes of getting blue-balled by some drunken sorority girl. Never understood it.

That's why it's so odd to me that there are people my age that are still so enamored of that scene. Guys who are waaaaaay past college, with steady girlfriends and jobs--why would they subject themselves to that bullshit? After one of last night's shows, this 30-something "playa" invited me and Kambri to hang with down on Clematis Street, which is where all the clubs here in West Palm Beach are, apparently. "I've worked at all the clubs, dawg," he said. "Flow, Passion, Razor, all of them. But now I've got a job at Wachovia." I asked him if "Wachovia" was down on Clematis Street, and he looked it me like I was from Mars. "Dude, Wachovia is a bank." Ah. I mean, now that I think about it, I guess I have heard of Wachovia Bank, but how was I supposed to know, necessarily? Wachovia seems as likely a name for a club as anything. In fact, you can pretty much pick any noun out of the dictionary and it would make a perfectly suitable name for a discotheque. In fact, just looking around the room I'm sitting in, I can come up with at least five good club names:

"Hey man, let's go down to Mirror tonight."

"Dude, you should have seen all the hot chicks at Fountain last weekend."

"This place is beat. Let's head over to Monitor."

"Check it out--I'm on the guest list at Ceiling Fan tonight!"

"So I figure I'll take her out for a candelight dinner and then it's off for a night of dancing at HP 1200 Series Lazer Printer. And then, I'll totally try to get in her pants."

Clubs can blow me. Long live shitty Irish Pubs!

WEST PALM, BEEEAAATCH: THE SEQUAL

Later this morning, I'll be flying down to West Palm Beach for the weekend. And thank god--lord knows I need a relief from all this bonechilling seventy-four degree weather. Lest you think I'm just some pampered dilletante jetting around the country on a moment's whim, I'll have you know that this is a business trip. I'll be opening for Richard Lewis at the Palm Beach Improv. I'm actually intimidated, but not in the usual way. On the one hand, Richard Lewis is probably the most "established" comic I've ever worked with. I mean, the guy was a regular on Carson, fer chrissake. Oh, and for you youngsters out there, that would be Johnny Carson, not the TRL guy. So it will be weird trying to earn the respect of someone who's pretty much seen it all at this point. On the other hand, when you've been around as long as a guy like Richard Lewis has, I'm sure you probably don't give two shits about the dweeb who's opening for you, and I'll be shocked if he speaks more than 50 words to me all weekend. He certainly ain't gonna want to sit through my act, I'm thinking. Unless I pull some seriously noteworthy shit, like closing my set with fifteen minutes of hilarious child molestation material. Then, he'll have to pay attention to me, right? If for no other reason, than for an answer to the question, "Where the hell is the audience going?" Hey, negative attention is better than no attention at all, am I right?

Interesting note: In the preceding paragraph, I was all set to type the words "hilarious September 11th material". But then I decided that making a joking reference to September 11th is kind of cheap, even in the context of joking about saying inappropriate things onstage. So I decided, for some reason, that child molestation was a more benign (hence jokeworthy) topic. I'm not sure if that makes me an ethical person, or the biggest shithead ever.

Serisouly though, you have to admit, child molestation is pretty funny.

To help me make the most of the weekend, the lovely Kambri will be accompanying me on this little Floridian voyage. This makes me very happy, as I've learned that days on the road tend to feel like fucking dog years. She says she's excited for us to spend time together away from New York, but I honestly think she's just in it for the swimming pool at the condo where we'll be staying. Chicks dig chlorine, fellas. Of course, if we do go swimming, that means I'll finally have to take off my shirt in her presence--that seems a bit intimate, considering we've only been dating for eight months. I hope to acquire washboard abs by noon.

Anyway, I suspect I'll be posting from the relatively cheesy confines of the West Palm Beach Public Library, where I wrote from for a few days last year (see December 6th and December 8th). I'll try to find new and interesting things to say about South Florida. It ain't gonna be easy, though.

MAN WITH A PLAN

As I'm sure you know, cell phone plans are getting more and more specialized--some companies give you unlimited off-peak minutes, others let you call your friends and family for free and a couple have begun letting you rollover your unused minutes from month to month. Well folks, that's just the tip of the telecommunications iceberg. Check out some of the new cell phone plans that will be offered within the next year:

The Sprint PCS "Reach Out and Stalk Someone" Plan
Key feature: All calls to ex-girlfriends/boyfriends between the hours of 1-5am are free, provided that the calls are "just to make sure everything is okay". (Additional feature: Phone is Caller ID-proof)

The Cingular Wireless "Get Back Into the Will" Plan
Key feature: Unlimited minutes alloted for calls to elderly parents, grandparents or anyone else nearing death who you've drunkenly alienated in the past five years.

The T-Mobile "Talk Shit About Rob" Plan
Key feature: Free conference calling, designated explcitly for discussions about how Rob Faber of Goffstown, New Hampshire is a total fucking a-hole. Did you hear what he said to Amy at Smitty's party last weekend? What a dick.

The AT&T "Gun in Mouth" Plan
Key feature: 1200 free minutes a week to wonder what the fuck you did wrong while your girlfriend sighs audibly, threatens to hang up, and sobs quietly to herself.

The Verizon "No, my name is not Homo Homostein" Plan
Key feature: Upon activation, your phone number will be given a random group of 14 year old teenage boys, who will prank call you incessantly for upwards of three months. On the upside, these minutes will be free.

The Nokia "Stabbing Pain to the Abdomen Whenever You Answer Your Phone" Plan
Key feature: 800 anytime minutes and unlimited nights and weekends, all for the cool low price of $39.99 per month!

MARK YOUR CALENDARS!

We're all headed to Carson City, NV on November 2nd!

There's so much to love about this site, I don't know where the hell to begin.

WEAK-ASS MINI TRAVELOGUE

I'm writing this from the rather nondescript Concourse Hotel in Columbus, OH. Earlier this evening (yesterday, technically speaking), I did the first date of the Comedy Central "No Class" Comedy Tour with Ed Helms and Doug Stanhope at Ohio University. I had a really great time at the show--nothing feeds the ego like performing for 1800 entertainment-starved kids. Afterwards, we drove the 90 minutes back to Columbus (where we're flying out of tomorrow) and sat in the hotel bar and we drank ridiculously cheap beers until Last Call. There was a reception here earlier in the evening, the evidence being the gaggle of fat dudes in formalwear downing Coors Lights with their doughy baby-machine wives.

Perhaps the strangest and most wonderful moment of the hotel bar experience: We were sitting in a booth chatting and At one point, someone at our table mentioned the word "midget", and a way-too-old-to-be-dressing-sexy woman with a defiantly non-ironic mullet wheeled around and shouted, "THAT MIDGET IS A FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Then, after noticing that we had no idea what she was talking about, "ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE SAME MIDGET? THE ONE FROM FROM BEFORE?" More silence, then the bizarre kicker, "HE TOOK A PISS ON MY LEG!" We all just stared at her awkwardly, until she turned back to her friend and starting babbling about something else. It was like the lamest "Twin Peaks" episode ever.

At least five times in the 12 or do hours I've been here, I've thought to myself, "Holy shit...people live here." I mean, college kids living here I can understand. Most schools are in shitty little one horse towns, and that's one of the things that makes college...well, college. Granted, I went to NYU, so I don't really know what the fuck I'm talking about. But it seems to me that for most kids, college towns are like strange little suburban vortexes where drunken 18-22 year olds get to make all the rules--kind of like Lord of the Flies with midterms. But the locals? Egads. I'd rather take an icepick to the eyeball once a day for the next forty years than to actually try to make a life here. After all, there's apparently an incontionent midget terrorizing the Columbus area--best to get back to NYC, where I can keep my legs urine-free.

Okay, I'm not even making sense at this point. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go crawl into my crappy little hotel bed and watch Sportscenter until I pass out.

A MATTER OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE

Lest ye forget, tonight marks yet another sure-to-be-magnificent installment of PORTABLE COMEDY at the Gershwin Hotel! Now, as most of you are probably aware, tonight is Rosh HaShanna. But seriously, think about it--what better way to spend one of the holiest days on the Jewish calendar than with a guy with the word "Christ" in his first name? So get your repenting done early and come on on down and witness the comedy magic of:

ANDREW DONNELLY (He's appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" and in countless national commercials)

JONATHAN CORBETT (He's also appeared on "Premium Blend" and has appeared at the prestigious Montreal Comedy Festival)

AMANDA MELSON (A favorite all over NYC, especially at Portable Comedy)

OPHIRA EISENBERG (She's had her own half-hour special on Canadian television)

BRETT GELMAN (He's a member of "Mr. A$$", one of the most popular sketch groups in residence at The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre)

DAN ALLEN (As seen at Carolines and The Comic Strip)

And, take a walk down memory lane with TOZER & STU!

You want details? I got details for you:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 26th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison)
10:00pm
$7.00
And, don't forget: FREE FRAT HOUSE VODKA!

Come on down. Attendance will be taken.


Christian Finnegan,
blowing a horn in the name of comedy

HOW'S WORK, SUCKERS?

For some reason, today is one of those days where my lack of funds/career/healthcare doesn't get to me so much and I'm just blissfully happy that I'm not stuck in Cubicle Hell.

With the exception of a three month temping stint last fall, it's been over two and a half years since I worked in an office. This is probably best for all involved. I was advised by a physician to avoid any line of work where people need to depend on me. For anything. Whenever I work in an office type environment, people always badgering me with questions. Christian, why are you late for work again? Christian, why did you throw my mail in the trash can? Christian, why aren't you wearing pants? It's exhausting, I tell you. They get all up in my grill and I just have to give them 'the hand' and say "Whatever, bitch." It's just not good for my constitution.

I once temped at some 'dot-com' that had a condom machine in the bathroom. That's odd, right--a condom machine in an office bathroom? Because I'm telling you, I've had some pretty good days at work...but none so good that I thought I might be calling on "Trojan Man" in between meetings. I imagine that has to be one damn impressive Powerpoint presentation you put together. How does that ever come into play? Some woman walks into your office, closes the door behind her and whispers, "Phil, I really loved your choice of font. Was that Helvetica...bold?" Dress drops to floor, cue funk music.

the one thing I truly miss about working in offices is all the free shit you get. Office supplies are like corporate booty, man. I still have about 87 Post-It pads, if anyone needs one. Hanging folder or two? Paperclip holder with magnetic rim? I temped for a very long time, and I worked in probably over 50 different offices. And every time I'd be set to complete an assignment, I'd lock myself in the supply room and it would turn into an epsiode of "Supermarket Sweepstakes"--a manic 60 or so seconds of me cramming my bag with anything and everything that would fit. And when you're stealing office supplies, your idea of what's "necessary" changes a bit. You find yourself saying things like, "You know, I really could use a backup 3-hole punch. Because, you know--what if my other one breaks down?! Then, there's be no hole-punching! It would be a hole-punching catastrophe!"

File this all under "Why never to hire Finnegan".

THIS SEMESTER'S LEAST POPULAR COLLEGE COURSES

Intro to Recreational Bulimia

The Safety Dance: Cold War Paranoia in 1980's Synth Pop

Racist Party Clowns III

Fundamentals of Atomic Wedgie

German Vacuum Cleaning, 1950 - 2000

Fart History*

Comparative Genitalia: How You Stack Up Against Prof. McDaniels

Yogurt Studies

From Meanbeats to Raving Bill: The Films of Martin Slorcese

Cooties in American Folklore

Abel Was a Douchebag: Re-Evaluating the Old Testament

Screech, Urkle and the Rise of Italian Facism

Chlamydia Appreciation 101

Inverticles, Multigentricity and Hyperbovian Thinking: Principles of Quantum Ambiguity

Intro to Jeff


* Sometimes a joke is so obvious, it's genius. This is not one of those times.

HEY THERE, TURD NUZZLERS!

I have lots of crap to do today (I have a cucumber wrap and Brazillian bikini wax at 4pm), so that means no hilarious, holy-crap-how-did-he-come-up-with-that-surely-he-must-be-some-sort-of-genius-I-just-hope-someday-I-can-learn-to-be-a-bit-more-like-him Tower of Hubris entry.

In the meantime, have fun playing this little film game I've been obsessing over lately. If it's not self-explanatory, it's a bunch of film stilld where the peoples bodies have been digitally erased. Have fun procrastinating!

A BRIEF MESSAGE FROM THE NATIONAL DEPARTMENT OF HARD-TO-DEFEND SENTIMENTS

Remember, Cancer patients: nobody likes a whiner!

CONVENTIONAL WISDOM

As many of you know, the New York City has been chosen to host the 2004 Republican National Convention. People are making a huge deal about this, as if it's something really special. But the truth is, New York plays host to a number of political conventions every election year. Sure, they may not have the politcal clout or name recognition of the Republicans or Democrats, but they are nonetheless part of the fabric of our great republic. Let's meet them:

THE FREETOPIANS
PHILOSOPHY: Freetopians are vehemently opposed to government infringements on personal liberty at all levels. Among the things Freetopians are opposed to: streetlights, child safety caps and minimum height requirements on roller coasters.
SLOGAN: "Libertarians are a bunch of Communist pussies!"

THE ARE-WE-RACIST? PARTY
PHILOSOPHY: The AWR endorses a number of controversial social policies, all of which are very ambiguous in their intent. Are they trying to help the less fortunate? Or are they horrible racists? Hard to say. Proposals include a plan that would require teachers in predominantly Black schools to learn how to rap, a "Tortillas-for-Guns" program in crimeridden Latino neighborhoods, and The Goldstein Foundation, which helps Jews pass the bar exam.
SLOGAN: "Working towards an America where men and women of every race are valid."

TGL (Total Government Live)
PHILOSOPHY: TGL wants to offer America a more direct approach to Democracy, whereby policy would be created via "shout outs" by average teens who happen to be congregating en masse outside the House of Respresentatives.
SLOGAN: "Hi, I'm Tracy Meloni from Merrick, Long Island and I want to give a mad shout out to tax code reform for working families and small business! Ashton Kutcher, I love you! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

THE FINGERFUCK PARTY
PHILOSOPHY: Founded by prominent economist Ronald Fingerfuck, The Fingerfucks are the "no nonsense" party of fiscal responsibility. They believe budget cuts are necessary in both social programs and military spending if we ever hope to reign in our ballooning national deficit.
SLOGAN: "The era of false promises is over. America deserves honest and sober fiscal leadership in the face of a ever-evolving global economy. Vote Fingerfuck."

THE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE GIRLFRIEND PARTY
PHILOSOPHY: This group believes that the 'passive-aggressive girlfriend' is the perfect model for good government. If voted into power, the PAG will exert its influence on foreign and domestic policy through an intricate combination of awkward silences, vague expressions of disappointment, and occasional crying fits.
SLOGAN: "So...you don't want to increase farm subsidies? Um...okay. No, that's fine... (sigh...) ...Listen, I think I'm just going to go. No. I'm fine. Obviously, you're not interested in what I have to say, so... You just do whatever. I said, I'm fine. Really. (sigh)"

THE PEPSI GENERATION
PHILOSOPHY: This party is dedicated to promoting the family value of cool, refreshing Pepsi cola. Look under the cap of your participating Pepsi product for a chance to become Secretary of Health and Human services, or any one of 150 other rad Pepsi prizes! The PG hopes to rebound after months of infighting between potential nominees Shakira and Beyonce.
SLOGAN: With a smooth taste and less than 100 calories, it's clear that Pepsi is the choice of a new voting demographic!

THE PARTY PARTY
PHILOSOPHY: If voted into power, this group will see to it every American citizen would be able to throw a kick-ass party. Funds will be allocated for beer, potato chips, crepe paper streamers and totally awesome '80s music mix CD's. A special congressional task force will be formed to make sure that "Jeff" doesn't show up.
SLOGAN: "Dude, you are so wasted! We are so getting your vote!"

COME AND KNOCK ON OUR DOOR

You know, since he went off to the great Regal Beagle in the sky last week, John Ritter has been the subject of many a sanctimonious "Access Hollywood" tribute. I think that's just dandy, as I've always felt the dude was a grossly underrated physical comedian. But I just wanted to state, for the record, that I have been preaching the Gospel of Tripper for years now, even on this very page (see March 29th). Say what you want about the bad clothes and predictable plotlines of Three's Company, no one in TV history could do a backwards pratfall over a sofa quite like John Ritter. And please, don't give me that tired Lucille Ball shit--I'll take Jack Tripper getting hit in the face with the swinging kitchen door over that "classic" wine stomping scene any day.

An bizarre piece of Ritter-related intrigue: Like pretty much every other newspaper in the country, the New York Daily News publishes daily syndicated horoscopes, theirs written by "celebrity" astrologer Joyce Jillson. In addition to the usual short blurbs relating to each zodiacal sign, Ms. Jillson usually includes photos of a couple of celebrities who are celebrating birthdays that week. Each is accompanied by a short paragraph explaining how the particular star's sign relates to whatever piece of shit album, movie or TV show he's working on at the moment. In September 11th's edition of the Daily News, Ms. Jillson surmises that Moby's business acumen in licensing so many of his songs to advertising campaigns is a direct manifestation of his Virgo-ness. Fair enough, I suppose. The other celebrity featured on this particular day? That's right, Mr. John Ritter. No, I'm not joking.

It gets better. Get a load of this line: "Having a Virgo sun sign helps keep his career ticking". I will remind you that John Ritter died of...yes, a massive heart attack. Well done, Ms. Jillson.

Look, I know astrology isn't a perfect science. In fact, it's a not a science at all. And even if I did buy into that horseshit (I don't), I wouldn't expect that even the most gifted astrologer would be able to predict the exact day someone was going to die. But is it too much to ask that someone who purports to see the fucking future might have the ability to pick out one of the 364 days this year when John Ritter was not going to kick off? I mean, all she had to do was pick a celebrity who wasn't going to suffer a fatal heart attack a few hours before her column went to press. I'd like to think even I could avoid dropping the astrological ball like that, and I'm not exactly what you'd call the Delphic fucking Oracle.

All I can say is, if I were Moby I'd be shitting my pants right now.

Oh, and if there does turn out to a "heaven", I'd like to think John Ritter is up there, overhearing an innocent conversation between Ghandi and Joan of Arc and mistakenly placing it in a sexual context.

THIS SITE BLOWS

I just mistakenly deleted a semi-long post I was writing. I am very angry. It was kind of funny, I think.

God fucking damn it, I'm a moron.

I no longer have time write the whole damn thing again, as I have yet another commerical audition to underperform at.

Jesus H, man. This sucks dong.

For now, just enjoy this.

Shit fuck.

THIS IS A TEST

Apparetnly, Blogger is letting people upload photos now (you used to have to pay for that honor). Let's give it a try:



Success! This opens an entirely new timewasting vista!

DREAD INDUCING THOUGHT OF THE DAY

There comes a time when the desire to succeed is overcome by the fear of not succeeding as the prime motivating force in one's life.

Enjoy your Saturday!

100% PURE LOVE


Portable Comedy. Tonight. At the Gershwin Hotel.

You will be there.

My very talented guests and I will attempt to make you laugh.

No less than 50% of the time, you will comply enthusiastically. "Holy crap," you will say to yourself, "I can't believe how funny this show is! And for so little money! I am genuinely flabbergasted!!"

Of the remaining 50%, you will smile comfortably 25% of the time and think to yourself, "Hey, that was sorta funny, kinda."

Of the remaining 25%, you will smile not-so-comfortably 15% of the time and think, "Hmm. Not so funny. But I guess it's not my place to judge. I'm sure the next joke will be funnier."

Of the remaining 10%, you won't even be able to force a smile 5% of the time. You will think to yourself, "Okay, that just sucked. This guy's a dick. At least there's free vodka."

And of the remaining 5%, you will spend roughly 3% of that time plotting my demise. "Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhh," you will moan to yourself. "I would rather take a cheese grater to my face than spend one more minute having my ears assaulted with the inane buffoonery of this jackass host. I must murder Christian Finnegan. I must. Die. Die. Die."

You will spend the remaining 2% of tonight's show thinking about Scott Baio. Not sure why.

No matter how you slice it, though, you're in for a great night of comedy. So come on out and enjoy:

ED HELMS (He can be seen every weeknight as a correspondent on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart")

JACKIE KASHIAN (She has her very own episode of "Comedy Central Presents" and will be seen this Monday on "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn")

JON FISCH (Recently chosen as one of Comedy Central's "Fresh Faces" and a finalist in last year CC "Laugh Riots" contest)

STEVE DAY (This well respected British comic and Edinburgh Festival alum is in America for one week only)

BRIAN KENNEDY (A regular at world-famous Carolines Comedy Club)

MATT GOLDICH (He plays all the great rooms in NYC, including "Eating It" at Luna Lounge, and was a semifinalist in Comedy Central's "Laugh Riots" contest)

BRENDAN GALIVAN (After a long tour of duty with Austrian death metal band, "Lungstabber", Brendan returns to the cozy confines of the Portable Comedy stage)

And, the pertinent info:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 12th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

You should show up. Comedy is good for you.


Christian Finnegan,
dreamboat

F YEAH

At last check, yesterday's entry had 63 comments and counting. VICTORY IS MINE! I thank you, the TOH readership, for providing such a glorious glut of needless verbiage. Viva overkill! And to celebrate this wondrous feat, I present:

WHAT MY FAVORITE ALBUM SAYS ABOUT ME, Part VIII

STING "Sacred love" -- Sometimes the plight of the world's poor weighs so heavily on me, I just get in my SUV and drive, drive, drive.

JACK JOHNSON "On and On" -- Finally, artistic validation for my burnout, going-nowhere lifestyle!

IGGY & THE STOOGES "Raw Power" -- Hey, you kids! Get off of my countercultural lawn!

JOHNNY LANG "Lie to Me" -- I don't care what people say; Dan Ackroyd is still the funniest man alive.

JAMES TAYLOR "Sweet Baby James" -- Prepare yourself for a long night of cuddling and blueballs.

KINGS OF LEON "Youth and Young Manhood" -- I am the product of what happens when irony falls into the hands of the witless.

JOSH GROBAN "Josh Groban" -- Help! I'm trapped under a pile of PBS totebags!

SPIN DOCTORS "Pocket Full of Kryptonite" -- My investment banker husband has no idea that I once took on seven guys at a Sigma Epsilon kegger.

AMY GRANT "Legacy Hymns & Faith" -- My investment banker husband has no idea that I once took on seven guys backstage at an LA Guns concert, whacked out of my gourd on coke.

KENNY CHESNEY "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problems" -- Hope you enjoy my assortment of patriotic and/or sexual innuendo-laden bumper stickers.

BERNIE WILLIAMS "Journey Within" -- 1918!! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap) 1918!! clap, clap, clap-clap-clap) 1918!! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap)

ASHANTI "Chapter II" -- I'm looking for a true "thug" to call my own--preferably one in sixth grade, like me.

THE MARS VOLTA "Deloused in the Comatorium" -- Sit down and I'll spend 40 minutes telling you what an intellectual I am.

MICHAEL BOLTON "Vintage" -- Yes, I like Michael Bolton. Yeah, I know: ha ha fucking ha. So sue me! What the hell business is it of yours what kind of music I listen to in my own goddamn home, anyway? I mean, christ, can't a guy just relax with a glass of white zin and enjoy a little soulful R&B crooning once in a while? You'd think I'd fucking killed somone...

ROCKAPELLA "In Concert" -- It's okay to be confused--even I'm not sure whether I'm gay or straight.

COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen: the comments are back. YACCS, the site that runs them had a major server meltdown last week, and things finally got back up and running yesterday evening. So how good is this new server, you ask? Let's find out. I would like each any every person who visits this site for the next 24 hours to leave a comment. It doesn't have to be witty or insightful. Hell, just mash your hand on the keyboard, if you want to (example: rnfbjipaehipab). I'm going for quantity, not quality. As far as I know, I've never had more than 25-ish entries on any one particular entry, and most of those were just my friend Todd Levin's readers writing to tell me what an asshole I am (for those of you who are new to TOH, it's a long story). Today, I'm aiming for fifty. Fifty comments, people! Think you can hack it?

Just in case you need a little inspiration, feel free to answer any of the following questions:

* Who's the person in your life most likely to punch you in the face?

* How much money would it take to convince you to perform cunnilingus on syndicated gossip columnist Liz Smith? Once. With no one knowing. But with the lights on.

* Coolest word in the English language? Other than 'jackanapes'?

* Of all of the Hanna Barbara cartoon characters, who'd be the best lay?

* Where do broken hearts go?

Remember, you don't need to answer any of these--they're just there to motivate you. The important thing is: comment, mo-fo! If only five people end up following through, I'm going to be rather embarrassed, so don't fuck me on this, yo.

HELLO IT'S ME

Earlier today I had yet another sure-to-be-unsuccessful commercial audition. One of the odd things about this process is how I invariably end up sitting in the waiting area with people I think I recognize. I'll walk in, make eye contact with someone I'm 100% sure I've met before--didn't I use to wait tables with that guy? Or was he in my Civil Liberties class at NYU? Or maybe he's a second cousin I haven't seen since I was 12. I definitely do know him, though--I'm sure of it. So I'll say something noncommittal, like "S'up, man", and throw him one of those little head bobs that we dudes are so fond of. In response, the guy will either awkwardly respond in kind or quickly pretend to be reading the paper. And it's at this moment that I realize that I don't receognize this guy because he's part of my everyday life, I recognize him because he's Beecher from "Oz".

This morning's audition was sort of a banner day for marginal celebrity watching. In addition to Beecher, the waiting room included the guy who played A.J.'s high school principal on "The Sopranos", a former member of "The State", the guy who played the Best Man that Sarah Jessica Parker had sex with on Sex and the City, and Britta Phillips, co-star of the 1988 Justine Bateman-Julia Roberts vehicle, Satisfaction and current bass player for Luna. "Daily Show" correspondent Mo Rocca was also there, but I don't count him becuase I've actually met him a bunch of times (I'm very important, you see). But Beecher is the only one I made the awkward head bob at. To his credit, he casually said "Hey," before pretending to make a phone call. He was much more laidback than former Gremlins star Zach Galligan was at last week's Verizon audition. He seemed to be making a distinct point of not making eye contact with anyone in the room. But then, if I went from starring in one of the most popular films of the 1980's to competing with a room full of nobodies for the honor of shilling wireless DSL, I'd probably want to keep a low profile, too.

The funny thing is, this marginal (and in this case there should be a word that's a whole lot stronger than "marginal") celebrity shit has actually been happening to me, lately. Yes, me--the guy who's barely done shit with his career and who, for the past two weeks, has spent every night lying awake in bed wondering how the holy fuck he's going to pay next month's rent. I get stopped on the street at least once a week because of that "Chappelle's Show" sketch I was on last year. And just like me at these commercial auditions, it takes these random people a solid 10 seconds before they decide that I am in fact not their upstairs neighbor, childhood classmate or ex-girlfriend's brother's co-worker. It's very odd. And how do I respond when someone looks at me with that tentative how-the-hell-do-I-know-this-guy expression? I toss them a casual head bob and then desperately pretend that I'm reading a newspaper. Smooooooth.

Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my marginal celebrity close-up. But in the meantime, can you loan me a few hundred bucks so I don't lose my cell phone service?

TAKING ACTION

I was walking through the East Village last week and I saw a young hipster wearing a t-shirt with the word "DEMILITARIZE!" across the front. Um...okay, I'll get right on that.

I wasn't exactly sure how to go about demilitarizing, but after a few days of silent contemplation, I knew I needed to make some changes. So from this day forward, I will no longer shop at Old Navy.

LIKE MAYA ANGELOU SAYS, I WILL RISE

Hello, friends. I'm writing to you from my new hard drive. It works very nicely, but then so did my last one (snif sniff). I want to write a bonafide TOH entry (I will write a eulogy for that damned drive sometime over the weekend), but I just got banging out my silly Portable Comedy promo Email and I'm too damned exhusted to be creative for one moment longer. So, it shall have to do for today. If you live in NYC, you should definitely consider coming out to the show tonight--it's gonna be a good 'un.

And with that...

IN SESSION

Greetings, friends. Tonight's installment of Portable Comedy is damn swell and, now that the Summer has officially come to an end, I am confident that you will choose to spend your Friday evening in the cozy bosom of the Gershwin Hotel.

But first, being that this is "back to school" week, I will now perform a dramatic transcription of character actor Mark Metcalf's opening soliloquy from Twisted Sister's seminal music video, "I Wanna Rock". Enjoy.
_________________________

(SCENE: A high school class room. Students are laughing, high-fiving, trading bawdy stories of fast cars and summer romance. They are embracing the very essence of life itself.)

SFX: Door slam

(The students immediately cease conversation and direct their attention to the door. The TEACHER enters, grinning devlishly. He surveys the scene.)

TEACHER: Hello, students. School has begun, the summer is over. I am in command.
(The students collectively groan)
What was that? For that little outburst, each and every one of you will spend three hours in detention, today, immediately after school, in the BASEMENT!!

(We see a particularly rotund young student. There is a text book on his desk, the cover of which has been decorated with an expertly rendered "TS" emblem. The teacher approaches, nearly overcome with rage.)

What do you think you're doing? Twisted Sis-ter?! What kind of a man desecrates a defenseless text book? I've got a good mind to slap your fat face! You are destroying your life with that...that...that GARBAGE! All right, Mister Sister, I want you to tell me -- no, better yet, stand up and tell the class...

(The portly student ambles to his feet)

WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO WITH YOUR LIFE?!!

(The cherubic young Twisted Sister fan gathers up his courage. This is the moment he's been waiting for his entire life.)

STUDENT (singing,): I WANNA ROCK!

(The boy instantly mutates into a freakishly tall 1970's-era Bette Midler drag impersonator.)

And...SCENE.
_______________


With that out of the way, let's check out tonight's fantastic PORTABLE COMEDY lineup:

CHRIS REGAN (Emmy award winning writer for "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" and Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" alum)

TODD LEVIN (The man behind the oh-so-very-popular Tremble.com and a contributing writer for Jest Magazine)

DAN NEWBOWER (Former finalist in Comedy Central's "Laugh Riots" contest)

PEGGY O'BRIEN (Co-creator of "The Rules of Engagement", perhaps the greatest movie trailer parody of all time--go watch it at www.peggyandsteve.com!)

JUSTIN JAY (I used to know this guy simply as my former downstairs neighbor. Then, one day he starts in with this "I do comedy now" thing. And wouldn't you know it, he's funny as all heck. Seriously.)

PLUS...SOMEONE ELSE!!

And here are the details:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

Show up and get schooled.


Christian Finnegan,
Professor of Comedy

SWING LOW, SWEET E-CHARIOT

Let's all take a moment of silence for my computer's hard drive, which was pronounced dead earlier this evening, after slipping into a coma this past weekend. A proper eulogy will be given sometime over the next couple of days, once my new hard drive has been installed. Until then, I'm going to try and not think about the fact that I've now lost every bit of writing I've done in the past three years (other than what has been posted on this blog, obviously). And please, no sanctimonious lectures about "backing up". I don't think my heart can bear it right now.

Anyway, sorry my entires have been sporadic over the past week or so. Once this shellshocked feeling wears off and I get back up and running, I'll re-dedicate myself to the glorious and poignant inanity that is Tower of Hubris.

THE CREEPIEST BLOG ENTRY EVER

First of all, 'big ups' to the various people who wrote me with advice on what to do with my asshole of a computer. Nothing has really helped, leading me to believe that I may have gotten myself into some major league Tekserve hell bullshit. And comments are still down, goddamn it. But I'm not going to deal with that right now. For the time being, I'm just going to sit here in front of my girlfriend's computer, pet her dog, and try to figure out how I'm going to explain to her why I decided to break through her living room window while she was at work, just so I could write a blog entry.

Okay, that's not true--I didn't break any windows. I jimmied the door.*

It's odd being in someone's apartment when he/she's not there. I always get this strange urge to pull some mischievous shit. Nothing evil, of course--just rearrange little things, leave notes in odd places, etc. I mean, I'm over here at Kambri's all the time, so it's not really so big a deal. But I have this strange urge to take all of her socks and put them in the refridgerator. Or replace the contents of her medicine cabinet with those of her spice rack. Or leave a beautiful cake on the coffee table, on which something cryptic is written in frosting, a la, "Happy Hunting, Merlin!" Just something harmless that would make a person stop and say, "Um...what the fuck?".

Now in case my girlfriend is reading this, I'm not saying I actually did anything like that, but you may want to stand back a few feet before lifting the toilet seat.


* Also not true. No need to call the cops.

PERHAPS CHICKEN LITTLE WAS ONTO SOMETHING

So here's the deal, faithful TOH readers: my computer has once again shit the bed. As you may recall, things went a bit nutty in the wake of the ol' blackout, but they were fixed rather easily with the help of a TOH commenter. Well, things have gone haywire again, though in a copmpletely different way than lasty time. So, on the off chance that there are any Mac-friendly types out there, I will describe my problem and perhaps someone may know what the fuck I'm dealing with, here.

Yesterday, as sometimes happens, my computer randomly shut down AOL. When I tried to re-start the program, everything froze. This has happened a few times, but usually I just restart the computer (a G4 tower) and everything goes back to normal and everything is just dandy. But when I restarted yesterday, it just went to a grey screen with a small folder icon in the middle. Inside the folder icon, the Mac icon and a question mark began alternately flashing--i.e. Mac icon, question mark, Mac icon, question mark, etcetera and so forth. Has anyone ever seen anything like this? My friend said it sounded like my computer was having trouble locating the hard drive, that maybe I had a loose connection. This would make sense, but I'm a tad nervous to start tinkering with my computer's innards, seeing as I am a complete moron about this stuff. Of course, it also occurs to me that something uglier might be afoot, but I'm going to try to not freak out about it. I am very fortunate that lovely Kambri lives just down the street from me, and has been nice enough to let me set up a Tower of Hubris remote basecamp in her apartment.

Anyway, if any of you Mac users has ever seen anything like this, I'd tell you to comment, but it just so happens that "yaccs", the program that does my comments, is having major server problems. Great, huh? I feel like Jeff Goldblum about an hour into The Fly--still functional, but rapidly falling tp pieces. Hey look, an ear! So the bottom line is, if you have any idea of what might be wrong with my computer and are feeling charitable, drop me an Email (ChristFinnegan@aol.com). You will be rewarded in some yet-to-be-determined-but-genuinely-worthwhile manner.

And now, as far as content goes:

Yesterday, when my computer decided to give me a spiritual nut-punch, I was about to write an entry apologizing for the lack of quality humor over the course of the last two or so weeks. Entries have been sporadic and half-hearted and I was going to assure you, the discerning TOH readership, that I was going to use the "back to school" sentiment that is always floating in the air around Labor Day to rededicate myself to making this page something worth checking out on a (nearly) daily basis. But then this computer crap happened. So it looks like, for the time being, you're all just going to have to suck it.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure I saw a dead guy last night. A homeless fellow, laying on a front stoop, mouth gaping, eyes wide open in a state of shock. As with most genuinely horrific things I experience, I spent a good chunk of the evening wondering why I didn't feel worse. What does that say about me? Why wasn't I a basket case? I can't help but think that a person who was truly "deep" would have, at the very least, had his evening ruined--as opposed to, say, proceeding directly to a mexican restaurant for margaritas and taco salad. And it's not just that he was some anonymous homeless person--I've felt the same curious pangs of "what should I make of this?" in all sorts of personally tragic situations (none of which I will get into, because this ain't that kind of blog). I just tend to numbly wonder why I'm not more emotional about these things. And yet, I tend to be a veritable fountain of emotion when confronted with tiny, meaningless shit. Watching someone get a papercut elicits in me a compassion worthy of Mother Teresa. Hearing a subway train roll in and out of the station while I frantically try to purchase a new Metrocard is cause for hours of existential angst. And I will toggle though all five stages of grief after having a subpar stand-up set in some crappy bar in front of nine drunks. I am definitely a person who sweats the small stuff. It's the big stuff that tends to roll right off of me.

So, I guess if you have any idea how to fix me or my computer, do let me know.

Toodles.

THE EXPERTS AGREE

Hey there, friend. Listen, do yourself a favor and don't go away for Labor Day weekend.

Why, you ask? Well, there are lots of reasons. For instance, it's going to rain. Yep, thunder and lightning from early Saturday morning straight through until Monday. And hail, probably. And locusts. All over the country, except for NYC. Here, it will be sunny and temperate.

Also, you should take into account the recent increase in gas prices. Are you really prepared to spend $2.03 per gallon to drive eight hours in bumper to bumper traffic, just to spend a few pathetic days in some rain-soaked vacation hamlet? And what if your car breaks down? Have you brought it in for a tune-up lately? Look, I don't care if you ARE just renting--you can never predict when you're going to get stranded in some god forsaken tourist town, where you could very well fall prey to vicious local teens out for kicks. And, yes, by "kicks" I mean theft, violence and forced sodomy.

Oh, and the cookout your boyfriend/girlfriend's parents have invited you to? Big mistake. That hamburger meat they're going to use has been sitting out on the back porch for five days. It's basically an Ecoli playground! Plus, your girlfriend/boyfriend's parents hate your guts and they're planning to use this weekend to tell you why.

Yessirree, spending Labor Day weekend anywhere but in NYC is starting to look like a real dumb move. And you don't want people thinking you're a dummy, do you? Nope, better to stay in town and check out the soul-enriching installment of PORTABLE COMEDY I've cooked up for you.

Join me and my fancy-schmancy guests:

BRIAN KILEY (Staff writer for "Late night with Conan O'Brien")

BRYAN TUCKER (Staff writer for "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn" and former "MadTV" and "Chris Rock Show" scribe)

ROB PARAVONIAN (He's appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" not once, but twice! He's also popular on college campuses all over the country)

KYRIA ABRAHAMS (Writer for Jest magazine and Girlcomic.net, and one of NYC's most up-and-coming comedy types)

DAMION SAMMARCO (Co-host of "The Tuesday Night Train Wreck", one of NYC's longest running shows)

LARRY GETLIN (Former writer for "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn" and host of the "Brooklyn Brew Ha Ha")

SAM LALLY (Performing a piece from her upcoming show, "Lady W/", at Manhattan Theatre Source)

And, on the off chance you've yet to commit them to memory, the details:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, AUGUST 29th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

You've worked hard all year. You owe yourself an inexpensive comedy show in the back room of a hotel.


Christian Finnegan,
laborious promotional Emails since 1998

MORE POTENTIAL FIRST LINES FOR MY YET-TO-BE-WRITTEN NOVEL


* It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the average of times--it really depended on who you were and what was going on in your life on that particular day.

* "If it's good enough for Matthew Perry, it's good enough for me," said Bishop Tutu, downing a handful of Secanol.

* Scott had always wondered what it would be like to make love to a soda machine change slot.

* By the time little Spencer Dunham completed his first day of kindergarten, he was sure of one thing: the Holocaust was a hoax.

* Business at the women's health clinic had been slow lately, but Gary was about to change all that.

* I never blamed Grandpa Fred for what become known around town as the "Captain Teabag" incident--after all, he was just trying to help.

* From day one, Caroline Gertz was determined not to be just any ol' baby-fallen-down-a-well.

* Even trained CIA killing machines need to rub one out occasionally, and Brock Masterly was no different.

* As Chief Running Bear handed in his TGI Fridays application, he knew his life was about to take a turn for the better.

* No one in the town of Baker's Creek had ever met a woman quite like Tits McSemengobbler.

* "Over the course of this trial, I will prove to you, the jury, not only who farted," declared Sylvia St. James, lightly tapping the rail of the jury box for emphasis, "but why."

* Call me Fuckface.

ONE DAY HIATUS

In honor of Macauley Culkin's birthday (he's 23 today), Tower of Hubris is taking today off. I'll write something funny for tomorrow morning, though. Set your Anticipatometer to "high".

Okay, nothing to see here, folks. Please keep it moving.

AMERICA'S LEAST SUCCESSFUL PROFESSIONAL SPORTS FRANCHISES, Part II

The Indiana Palsy

The Jacksonville Trilateral Commission

The San Jose Buttfuckers

The Dallas Pox

The Portland Fighting Boners

The Buffalo Olive Garden Patrons

The Oakland Grab-Ass

The Carolina Queef

The Nashville Fat Fucks

The Chapel Hill Bad Touchers

The Minnesota Spank Machine

The Cincinnati Bengals

TEST YOUR KNOWLEDGE!

If only I'd taken this test before my high school prom.

Actually, I scored 15 out of 16. I'm not sure if that should make me feel proud or very, very ashamed.

PLUG IN

Dearest TOH readership,

After taking a week off due to a small, rather isolated power outage, PORTABLE COMEDY returns tonight with gusto. And make no mistake: I've got this whole "electricity" thing covered. I've arranged to have a giant hampster wheel hooked directly into my the Gershwin Hotel's extremely hi-tech lighting system. In the event of another blackout, I will tell an NYU film student that I'm related to Harmony Korine and pay the kid $10 to run on said wheel until show's end. Or until he passes out, whichever comes first.

Just in case the hampster wheel breaks down, or if the NYU student turns out to be a total pussy, I'll be buying a few solar panels later this afternoon--I'm pretty sure Odd Job carries them. So, even if the power goes out AND the hampster wheel is a no-go, tonight's show will definitely go on. (By the way, if anyone out there knows how to harness solar power, please drop me an Email!)

On the extremely slight chance that the power goes out, the hampster wheel becomes nonfunctional AND I'm unable to comprehend the "science" behind solar power by this evening, we will begin tonight's show by throwing copies of "Catcher in the Rye" and "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" onto a bonfire in the middle of the room, so I'm confident the comedy show portion of the evening can be done by firelight. To be honest, the bonfire will be taking place with or without electricity. Take THAT, nihilists!

One thing you CAN count on is a fantastic show featuring some of NYC's best comics. Check out the lineup:

ANDREW DONELLY (He's appeared on Comedy Central's "Premium Blend" and in countless national ad campaigns. Chances are you've seen him or heard his voice in the past week)

CHELSEA PERETTI (Co-creator of the web sensations "RejectionLine.com" and "BlackPeopleLoveUs.com")

JONATHAN CORBETT (Another "Premium Blend" alum, he's also performed at the prestigious Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal)

VAL KAPPA (NYC comedy favorite and a recurring voice on the Cartoon Network's "Home Movies")

JAKE SILBERSTEIN (After a long battle with SIDS, Jake makes his triumphant return to the Portable Comedy stage!)

LIZ LAUFER (Finally out of maximum security lockdown, the new "homocide-free" Liz makes her Portable Comedy debut!)

And here, my friends, are the details:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, AUGUST 22nd
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

Come on out and feel the power.


Christian Finnegan,
atomic punk

AND THE OSCAR GOES TO...


A couple of days back, I declared Blues Brothers 2000 the worst movie of all time. Ladies and gentlemen, we may have another contender.

You absolutely must watch the trailer. You must. What can you say about a movie where 2/3 of the budget seems to have gone to secure the talents of Gary Busey? If you look closely, you'll also see the singular talents of an aged Christopher Atkins and Curtis Armstrong, aka "Booger" from Revenge of the Nerds. This movie has sooo much going for it. First of all, you'll see from the trailer that there's not one, but two horribly executed pratfalls in the trailer. And, as my friend Adam Felber pointed out, " need to restore my faith in the idea that heaven is a place constructed from astroturf, dry ice, and a sheet-draped living room sofa."

Behold, the majesty of Quigley.

THE WORLD'S LEAST POPULAR NATIVE AMERICAN NAMES

Popping Zit

Throws Like Girl

Works Sexual Conquests into Conversation

Mayonnaise in His Beard

Five Inch

Gets Paper Stuck in Photocopier

Wakes with Bong Hit

Raging Bitch

Sobs While Drinking

Shaves Back

Broken Condom

Shows Up To Party Without Beer

Oscillating Desk Fan

Reads on Potty

Rising Bedsheet

Collects Star Wars Action Figures

Drops Trou

OUCHIE

I have a fucking swollen taste bud. Is there anything more maddening? The only thing that will make me feel better is to bitch about a few things:

* Is there anything lamer than a guy with a cell phone holster? Who needs to answer his phone that quickly? I refuse to believe that anyone who wears his phone on a holster has anyone important trying to get a hold of him. Sorry, no one's impressed, Wild (phone) Bill.

* All of this talk about Gigli has been making me think about the worst major motion picture of all time: Blues Brothers 2000. Rent it, you will see. The worst. Ever. Of all time. I adore terrible movies (I saw Glitter in the theatre, mofos!), but BB2K is too brutal even for me. It's like pressing your nutsack against the hot summer pavement. It's like passing a kidney stone while having a bone marrow transplant. I have it on DVD, if anyone wants to borrow it.

* VH1 Classic is showing a Bob Seger video. How and why was he ever popular? Looking at him, I bet he smells like a turd someone ate and threw back up. Turn the page, indeed.

* Has it ever occurred to you that were probably smarter at age 15 than you are now? Think about it--at one point in your life, you could solve Pi. These days, it takes you ten minutes to figure out a 15% tip.

* I tell you, it's really difficult to justify my sedentary lifestyle when the weather is so beautiful. Damn you, mother nature! I'm moving to England.

LIGHT AND LIVELY

So the big computer "catastrophe" has been rectified, and now I'm left to feel like a goddamn idiot for writing about it in the first place. Oh well, onward and upward.

By the way, a public service message to 95% of the Northeast United States: I don't want to hear your blackout anecdotes. We all went through it, people. Were you in the hospital, hooked up to a lifegiving machine when the power went out? Well, sure--I'd like to hear about that. Were you stuck in an elevator with Lorenzo Lamas, Mary Lou Retton and Ronnie James Dio? I'd be interested in hearing about that, too. Murder? Mayhem? Sex? Drugs? The Occult? Lay it on me. But if your twenty minute "how I spent the blackout" anecdote is about how long it took to find your candles in the dark, keep it the fuck to yourself. I don't care that all of your ice cubes melted, and I'm not especially interested in how wasted you got. And I definitely don't want to hear you whining about how your computer has been destroyed only to discover that the whole thing could be fixed by opening the damn thing and pressing a simple button. I mean, geez louise...

I just thought that worth mentioning.

ENERGY, I DECLARE THEE MINE ENEMY!

Hey there, winners. It appears that my computer may have become a casualty of the Great Blackout of '03. Apprently, the power surge at the moment of the blackout laid a major bitchslap on my hard drive. After talking to a couple of techie friends of mine, I've narrowed things down to the following scenarios:

1) The power source in my Mac is blown. This is a relatively simple thing to fix, apparently, but it would require time and a couple hundred bucks. No matter how you slice it, this would suck balls.

2) The motherboard is fried. Fuck. Game over. Do not pass go without handing Tekserve upwards of $1000.

3) We are all a part of the Matrix and my computer never really existed in the first place.

4) I beat Steve Jobs to death with an i-Book. Computer still fucked, but I feel better.

5) I begin drinking heavily.

6) Okay, more heavily.

7) I decide to shun modern technology and move to a shack in rural Montana, where I spend the next eight years scrawling my manifesto on the back of Red Lobster placemats. I'm arrested twenty years from now sending a mailbomb to Joel Shumaker.

Anyway, for the time being, I'll be making TOH entries from a remote location. So if things are a tad sparse for a few days, cut a brother some slack.

QUICK BULLETIN

I don't usually get all sentimental-ish on this page, but I wanted to take a moment to give 'mad props' to Kambri, the superwoman who for seven months has been kind enough to occasionally make out with me in public. The company she co-founded, Tex in the City, hosted a mind-blowingly successful book release party for former Texas Governor Ann Richards on Tuesday, and it's been written up in a variety of publications, such as The New york Sun and little nondescript rag known as The New York Times.

Anyway, I'm welling up with boyfriendly pride. But fear not, I'll chuck the bonhomie and get back to trashing shit first thing tomorrow.

MIX TAPES REVISITED

So in yesterday's 'comments' box, my dear friend Bob inquired about an old TOH entry devoted to the art of making an effective Mix Tape. I could have just linked to it, but seeing as I kind of re-wrote it a few months ago, I thought I might as well just post the new, semi-improved version. Besides, I'm feeling not even remotely creative today, so it's a wonderfully convenient cop out.

Anyway, enjoy:

MESSAGE OF LOVE:
The Subtle Alchemy of Mix Taping

So I've been dating a woman for a couple of months, and I think it may be time for me to take it to the "next level". I want to give her a little gift -- something poignant, but not over-the-top. Something that says "I understand you better than any man has ever understood you -- but not in a creepy way." Unfortunately, my complete lack of marketable skills has left me with very little in the way of funds. So you all know what that means! Hot chick? Poignant yet non-skeevy keepsake? No money? Say it with me, kids: MIX TAPE!

What the hell does it say about me that I'm 29 years old and still making mix tapes? Sure, they're technically CDs now, but for all intents and purposes, they're still the same 'mix tapes' I've been making for my sweethearts, requited and otherwise, since Grade Seven. My insatiable passion for transferring pop songs onto cassettes and compact discs is a manifestation of the low-budget, junior high egotism that defines my very existence. Because in the end, a mix tape is always much more about the giver than the receiver. It's meant to scream, "Hey, check me out! Look at all of the cool music I own! Aren't you impressed? You'll now want to befriend / have sex with me, right?! Please, tell me I'm valid!" My curse is that I'm fully aware of how ridiculous this mindset is (unlike, say, these people), and yet I cannot turn away from my calling.

If I were to put the same amount of energy toward my professional career as I do burning CDs, I'd be an internationally recognized "playa". In fact, I like to imagine myself the Tiger Woods of Mix Taping -- head and shoulders above the rest of the field, yet striving constantly to find ways to improve my game. Fer chrissake, Maxell could sign me to an endorsement deal! I can almost see it:

Hi, I'm Christian Finnegan. Whether it's for the ex-girlfriend you're trying to get reconcile with or some cutie who lives in the dorm room across the hall, nothing implies "I care" like a quality CD-R. That's why I use the Maxell Pro-XII. With its unique dye-recording layer, the Maxell Pro-XII ensures superior read-back for the ultimate in archival life and performance. And with an unbelievable 80 minute digital audio capacity, that's a lot of performing. Maxell Recordable Compact Discs: get in the mix!

So how exactly does one create a super keen, sure-to-get-your-foot-in-the-romantic-door mix tape? Well, like The Force, it defies simple explanation. Basically, you're attempting to take the listener on an emotional journey -- there needs to a beginning, an end, a subtle theme, a lesson learned. Every component plays a part, from lyrical sentiment to song length to track order. Lordy, the hours I've spent laboring over track order! It usually plays out something like this:

Okay, I'll start things off with something buoyant and austere, like Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once", to which she will involuntarily bob her head by the middle of verse two. From there, it's on to "Feedback Queen" by Lotion. Five listens from now, she'll be dancing around her living room to this song in a manner that is simultaneously awkward and unspeakably beautiful, but for now she's just digging it silently, wondering how it is she's never heard of this band. "Christian is so cool," she'll say to herself, "And, now that I think about it...attractive".

But she has no idea that I'm also extremely deep and capable of despair--at least, not until song #3. Man, by the time she gets to minute five of Cat Power's "Colors and the Kids", she will be sobbing into a throw pillow! "Christian has touched my very soul," she will cry to the heavens, "I must feel his tender kiss upon my face and neck! I absolutely must!"

Whoa, wait a minute. What am I thinking? Am I some kind of moron? "Feedback Queen" directly into "Colors and the Kids"? That's crazy talk! The shift in emotion is waaaay too abrupt. I need to slip in a transitional track--something uptempo, but with a hint of poignant melancholy. Hmmm... I've got it! "Achin to Be", by The Replacements! It's the perfect mix of happy and sad! Plus, when she reads the back of the dazzling, ironic clip art-laden CD case I've designed, she'll think "Oh, The Replacements! I've heard them referenced by people whose opinions I respect and I've always wondered what they sounded like--and now Christian Finnegan is giving me that chance!"

And then, as she scans down to the bottom of the track list, "Oh my god," she'll gasp, "Aretha Franklin's 'Ain't No Way'? My parents used to sing that to me when I was a little girl! What a breadth of knowledge! How could he have known? Is it fate? Could this be...love?"

Etcetera and so forth. What's tragic is that when you give a woman a mix tape, she's never quite as thrilled to receive it as you�d want her to be. She'll give it a perfunctory scan and "thanks", while you desperately resist the urge to start ranting about how long it took you to make it and the special significance of each particular song. Does she not understand just how precious a gift you've bestowed upon her?

A couple of weeks will go by and you won't hear anything from her. Or, maybe you will. In fact, maybe it's the best gift she's ever been given and she's called specifically to tell you how incredibly appreciative she is. But it won't matter. Sure, she claims to "really like" a few of the songs, but has her life been truly affected by what you've shared with her? Has her world begun anew, the sun and moon and stars replaced by dreams of you and you alone? No? Well, I guess you'll just have to try harder next time. It was probably that damn Shaggs song you tacked onto the end�you should have known she wouldn�t find it funny.

Basically, I won't be satisfied until one of my mix tapes convinces someone to kill herself. Not out of violence or malice, mind you. It's just that, thanks to my brilliant and heartfelt compilation of pop songs, she will have been awakened to the relentless and unyielding beauty of the universe. This glimpse of paradise will be so overwhelming that she will cast herself into the swirling sea rather than return to the sad drudgery of life BMT (Before Mix Tape). I dare to dream.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

SHORT MESSAGES TO A FEW PEOPLE WHO HAVE MADE RECENT SUBWAY RIDES OH-SO-DELIGHTFUL

Blind dude trying to find his way into the subway car: You're not allowed to wear headphones. Sorry. as fun as it was watching you search for the door with your cane for a solid three minutes, some of us are in a hurry. You've got to give us some way of getting your attention, other than smacking you in the back of the head. No headphones for blind people, period.

Chinese food woman: Save the General Tso's for when you get home, please. That shit stinks like a decathalete's crotch.

Air rapper: No one on the train is impressed that you've got all of Beanie Seagel's hand movements down. Now quit with the dramatic gesturing, if you please.

Loud conversation girl: He's sitting right next to you, bitch. Bring it down.

Stand in front of the door guy: Fuck you. Move into the goddamn train. Or, if you're determined to hold onto that prime right-next-to-the-door real estate, step off the damn train and then get back on. God, I fucking hate you.

Yes, it's that time again...

WHAT MY FAVORITE ALBUM SAYS ABOUT ME, Part VII

* DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL "The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most" -- I spend at least one night a week going through my shoebox full of "memories".

* ROD STEWART "It Had to be You: The Great American Songbook" -- I am completely incapable of staying awake past 11pm, even on New Years Eve.

* FABOLOUS �Street Dreams� � I will someday look back on my current wardrobe and cringe.

* THREE DOORS DOWN "The Better Life" -- I have never read a book that wasn't assigned to me by a teacher.

* LUTHER VANDROSS "One Night with You: The Best of Love, Vol. 2" -- You know, I actually do like long walks on the beach.

* STAIND "Fourteen Shades of Grey" -- I'm extremely sensitive and often get depressed. Like the time we lost the homecoming game, for instance. Or when I see a goddamn fag.

* ORGINAL MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK �Bad Boys II� � Ooooh�shiny object! (gurgle gurgle gurgle)

* DON McCLEAN "American Pie" -- Nothing will ever be as good as it used to be. Luckily for me, I stopped caring years ago.

* RANCID "Let's Go" -- I am the very person I make fun of.

* FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE "Utopia Parkway" -- I will corner you in a bar and spend 45 minutes drunkenly lecturing you on the evolution of the word "pop".

* BOB SEGER "Night Moves" -- I will make conversation while standing next to you at a urinal.

* RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE �Evil Empire� -- Free Mumia�or something.

THE MOTION OF THE OCEAN

Did you know that they sell beer on the Staten Island Ferry? Well, they do. Cheap beer. And the ferry itself? Absolutely free. So when you factor the effects of alcohol in with the slightly disorienting feeling of bobbing up and down on the water, we're talking about perhaps the most inexpensive buzz in NYC. Seriously--I had one Heineken and felt tipsy enough to whip out my dick. I'm not sure the other passengers appreciated it, but you can't run your life according to the whims of others, am I right?

PLAYING POLITICS


Dear Tower of Hubris constituents,

By now, you're probably aware of the effort underway to have me recalled as host of Portable Comedy. It has been suggested that I step down for the good of the community, that I am a lame duck comedy host who can no longer command the respect of the Gershwin Hotel faithful. But I want to assure you, the silent majority of discerning comedy fans, that I will not give in to this witch hunt without a fight.

You see, due to controversial Gershwin Hotel bylaws, a comedy show host can be recalled if concerned citizens are able to gather more than 45,000 guest signatures. Well, with a vast financial empire at their disposal, my opponents have managed to gather said signatures and it now appears that there will be a run-off comedy election sometime in early October. They think they can override the Will of the People. They are wrong. Predictably, Mr. Dustin Diamond (aka "Screech") has thrown his hat into the ring, but he's hardly the only one contributing to the carnival atmosphere in which we now find ourselves. Also considering a run are:

Lou Ferrigano
Keenan Ivory Wayans
Mary Kate Olsen
Mayor McCheese
That "Dude, you're gettin' a Dell" kid
various members of Smashmouth
Scary
Baby
Posh
Sneezy
Sen. Charles Schumer
The Herculoids

But have no fear, friends. I have not yet begun to host! My opponents will wither in the face of the sheer comedic genius on display at tonight's installment of PORTABLE COMEDY at the GERSHWIN HOTEL!

Come out and see:

JULIUS SHARPE (Writer for "The Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn" and former Portable Comedy host. Julius is making a rare NYC appearance, fresh off his triumphant taping of Comedy Central's "Premium Blend")

ERIC KIRCHBERGER (He's a "Premium Blend" alum and has been featured in a number of national commericals. Most importantly, he kicks ass.)

KURT METZGER (He's an NYC club favorite and a contributing writer for Comedy Central's "Chapelle's Show")

TRAVIS POSTON (A Portable Comedy favorite! Come and worship at the altar of T-Bird!)

NELLIE STEVENS (Though she's a regular all over the city, tonight marks her first appearance on the Portable Comedy stage.)

LEIGH KESSLER (Though he's a regular all over the city, tonight marks his first appearance on the Portable Comedy stage. See how I just took Nellie's intro and just changed the gender? Yep, pretty slick.)

And, the logisticalities:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, AUGUST 8th
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

Come on out and keep hope alive!


Christian Finnegan,
incumbent in your hearts

INTERVIEWWW

So I'm doing a show this weekend at the College of Staten Island Center for the Performing Arts. Please, hold your applause. Perhaps fittingly, it's part of the "Nobodies of Comedy" tour. It's one of those fancy "theater" shows, which are always the most gratifying--no attention-starved accountants shouting things out from the audience, no bachelor parties, no one settling up with the waitress in the middle of your set. Theater shows are the rare times when a stand up comic gets to feel like an "artist", rather than a Birthday Party Facillitator.

Earlier today, I did a telephone interview with a very pleasant young woman from The Staten Island Advance, who's writing a little article about the show. Now don't get the wrong idea, here--no one's seeking me out, personally. It's not as if reporters and opinionmakers are chomping at the bit for the sure-to-be-hilarious "Christian Finnegan" angle on current events. But every so often, a comic gets booked for a show that involves promoting the show via some sort of telephone interview--I've done maybe four or five in my life. So what have I learned from doing this a few times? That I suck royally at giving interviews.

Going into this sort of thing, you can count on the person interviewing you having absolutely no idea who you are, save what can be learned from your paragraph-long bio. That is, of course, assuming she/she has had time to read it. So that sets up this sort of awkward feeling of being simultaneously important ("Wow, I've being interviewed by a newspaper!") and utterly insignificant ("Um, no--I've never done Letterman. Nope, never done The Tonight Show, either. Conan? That would be a no.")

I always cringe when I see a comedian working obvious "jokes" into an interview, a la Robin Williams (someone kill him, please). But after reading a couple of my "interviews" in print (anyone see me in the June issue of Massive Douchebag Weekly?), I've learned that you have to be a little bit funny. After all, you're supposed to be a comedian, fer chrissake, and the whole point of doing the interview is to get butts into seats. I always find myself more concerned with flaunting my not-really-so-impressive vocabulary ("Indeed, this weekend's show at Professor Kooky's will represent a radical departure from the soporific paradigm of blah blah blah blah blah..."). I guess, as in all things, moderation is the key.

Pathetic as it sounds, I think I need to develop a few pat answers to the questions every single reporter (and by "reporter", I mean high school intern) asks, such as "How did you get into comedy?", "Where do you see yourself in ten years", and the most dreaded of all questions, "How would you describe your brand of comedy?"

Well, here are a few standard answers I've been considering to those very questions:

Q: HOW DID YOU GET INTO COMEDY?

* Comedy is just a way of breaking into the lucrative catering industry.

* I entered a contest in college and was voted "Mr. No Dignity 1997".

* Well, I think you'd be surprised by how much a childhood's worth of "bad touching" by an uncle can help you see the funny side of life.


Q: WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS?

* Snorting coke off of Colin Farrell's dick.

* Setting fire to government buildings and basically "fucking up the system", yo. By the way, did I mention that I also write poetry?

* On your couch.


Q: HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR BRAND OF COMEDY?

* Well, you've heard of Michael Winslow, right?

* My comedy is the product of an infinite number of monkeys jerking off onto an infinite number of typewriters.

* I would describe my act as: Jerry Seinfeld meets Groucho Marx meets Designing Women meets Pokemon meets Leeza Gibbons meets Charlamagne meets Pete Seeger meets Excel spreadsheets meets Baby Jessica meets retarded biker gangs meets Julius and Ethel Rosenberg meets the Puerto Rican Day Parade meets SIDS meets a donut. But with more of an "edge".

Superstardom, here I come.

F#G{PEJ%)@_HJIHAUY$*)&)%_!!!

No time for hilarity today. But in the meantime:

Some funny (in a semi-sad kind of way) cartoons.

A very simple, yet mesmerizing, optical illusion thingy.

A few worthwhile rules for living.

Now, I posted this many, many months ago, but it really does merit another look. Truly genius.

And finally, speaking of Jesus, something you should keep in mind.

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE BEER


There's a new Heineken ad that started airing a week or so ago, and it's been really pissing me off. In it, there's a commerical-within-a-commerical thing going on, where they show a "typical" beer commerical being shot on the rooftop of a city apartment building, with scantily clad chicks bouncing up and down and Andrew W.K.-esque music blasting in the background. There's a director dude yelling for the women to "show some skin", etc. Then, the camera pulls back to a rooftop across the street, where a white dude and a black dude (the kind you might believe would hang out with white hipsters), scoff at what they're seeing and return to their own party, a smattering of racially amorphous hipper-than-thou models, who are sipping Heinkeken and casually grooving to some paint-by-numbers "New Soul" jam. This is what life is really all about, man.

Then, the part that pisses me off the most: across the screen flash the words, "The Reality Check". Oh, fuck you.

If you want to see the commercial for yourself, you can go here, scroll down a bit and click on the picture.

So let's take the first part first: the scantily clad chick, loud music thing. I'm always disgusted (and grudgingly impressed) by how the advertisiting industry, like MTV, is willing to cannibalize itself. This silly beer advertisement has the sheer nards to posit itself "above" using jiggling tits and hard rock to sell its product. But who created those fucking stereotypes in the first place? Beer advertisements. So, they're essentially saying, "Hey, you know that image of 'coolness' we've spent the last twenty years trying to cram down your throat? Well, if you bought into it, you're a douchebag."

When I was googling the ad, I actually came upon this review which made me even more angry. Either this jackhole is a paid employee of Heineken, or we as a nation have absolutely no critical thinking skills. This chick is actually praising the commercial for going against tits-n-rock grain, without ever acknowledging that they're indirectly responsible for the grain in the fucking first place. It's akin to when MTV rags on Vanilla Ice and Gerardo, without ever mentioning the fact that these "losers'" careers were manufactured entirely by MTV. I think I ranted about this trend a few months ago, so I'll just leave it be.

But one more thing: The three blond chicks mugging to the camera during the commerical-within-a-commerical part are those triplets who are currently dating (and by "dating", I mean "appearing in photo shoots with") Hugh Hefner. So it was obviously important to Heinken that there be some hot and semi(and I stress semi)-famous tail in the commerical, otherwise they would have just hired any skank off the street. Well, if you have Playboy centerfolds bouncing around in your commerical, even for the purposes of "ironic critique", you officially forfeit the moral high ground. You can't have that shit both ways.

But it's the whole "Reality Check" nonsense that gets under my skin. Apparently, hanging out with a bunch of Lenny Kravitz lookalikes and Asian-ish fashion models in baby-tees qualifies as "reality". If they wanted to portray a real roof party, they would have shown 25 dudes and 3 women, two of whom would be married. The one single chick would be 80-120 pounds overweight and have a nose covered in sunblock, but that wouldn't stop three or four guys from trying to hook up with her, anyway. There might be one Black guy in attendance (a work friend, probably), but he'd spend the entire time looking at his watch and trying to avoid doing that stupid "soul brother" handshake/chest-bump thing with various White guys in need of cultural validation.

Oh, and there'd definitely be some puke somewhere. That's reality.

GET TO KNOW ME

You know, I've been maintaining Tower of Hubris for coming up on a year and a half now, and it occurred to me that I mention very little about my family life. That's why I thought I'd take this opportunity to introduce you all to my dad.

If you see him on the street, feel free to go right on up and say hi!

A POP QUIZ

Premium Blend is:

A) A wonderful television show that airs on Comedy Central and features the best new voices in comedy.

B) A pretty big damn deal, if you're the kind of person who pays attention to the World O' Funny.

C) The objective sign of "progress" that allows an annual batch of comedians to unashamedly ask their parents for yet another loan.

D) The TV show my immigrant landlady once happened to see me on, leading her to mistakenly believe that I'm a big star who hangs out with Regis Philbin and Mr. T.

The answer is, of course, all of the above. Why do I bring this up, you ask? Well, this year's live "Premium Blend" tapings are set to take place next week, here in NYC. In celebration of this joyous event, and in order to help them prepare, I'll be welcoming no less than FOUR of this year's bumper crop to the PORTABLE COMEDY stage tonight, August 1st! So please come on out and support some excellent wonderful comics as they get ready for one of the biggest nights of their professional careers. Appearing on both the Gershwin stage and "The Blend" will be:

JESSI KLEIN
RUSTY WARD
TOM McCAFFREY
and JAMES PATTERSON

But wait, that's not all! Filling out this sure-to-be-wicked-awesome show will be:

BECKY DONAHUE (a "Premium Blend" alumnae)
ANTHONY DeVITO
and SUSANNAH PERELMAN

This is gonna be a good one, folks--don't miss it! Here are the specifics:

PORTABLE COMEDY
FRIDAY, AUGUST 1st
THE GERSHWIN HOTEL
7 East 27th Street
(b. 5th and Madison Ave)
10:00pm
$7.00

Attendez-vous!


Christian Finnegan,
puppetmaster