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« Merry Christmas And All That | Main | George Bush and Mushrooms »


Driving home from Thanksgiving weekend in Austin - through the Tohona O'Odham Indian Reservation in Arizona, we passed a dog eating a dead sheep on the side of the road in Why, Arizona. If we were on mushrooms we could have watched all day. But we had to get home.

Now we're home.

Another day, another 45 dollar street-sweeping ticket, another day somebody needs to die.

But they never do.

I'm sure today that assholes thrive. The guy who has that double-long pick-up truck and takes two spots is cashing in a lottery ticket as I'm circling the block looking for a spot like it's the meaning of life. The jizz-bags of the world win and never die tragically or not often enough.

 Happy Thanksgiving, Native America

I told the girl from Capital One bank tonite that I was praying to Jesus that her CEO's children get cancer in the back of their necks and die on Christmas morning. She almost broke down in tears before she told me to have a great night and hung up. I don't like to fire on the front lines but those are the folks taking 5 dollars an hour to fall on the barbed wire. I let her know it was nothing personal.

It's been one of those lives where you just have to vent.

This life has been so odd, so day-to-day in every possible venue that I forget everything moments after I think of it. I forget the people who need the beating.

In August I did a couple of one-nighters in Ireland on the heels of the Edinburgh Festival. We desperately wanted to cancel them after the stress of the fest but it's just not right to do to someone a week out, shit gig or not.

The guy I was working for, Jon Keyes from, had me booked for two nights in the most remote fucking places on I've ever been and in the worst "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" travel scenarios I've dealt with in my comedy career.

It was among my worst comedy experiences in 12 years. All for shit money and a chance to see Ireland, I thought. Seeing a bus for 9 hours in any country is just seeing a bus. Getting treated like shit at the gig - I can get that down the street.

But one thing I never got - on the worst of gigs - is fucked out of the money.

Since the gig I've emailed this cocksucker at and had other people call and email this low-rent cocksucker to get my shit money. Not a word back. That was August. This is December. Nothing.

Another shit bag that needs to die and is probably on top of the world. Him and the cunt who gave me the latest street sweeping ticket, sitting in a PT Cruiser somewhere finger-fucking each other and laughing through the stink of it all.

I will now play the UK as often as possible just on the off chance that one day I'll be able to publicly humiliate this mudhole. If I remember, that is. Until then, I count on the fictional Jesus to put cancer on the tips of his retarded childrens tongues so that it should spread like dandelions across the groins of their uncles.

But enough of my troubles.

Last week we went to Austin for the release of my new DVD "Word of Mouth", which I still can't bring myself to watch for fear of hating it like everything else I've done, and also for the demise of the once proud Velveeta Room Comedy Club. The Velv has been a staple of Austin comedy forever and has now been taken over by some schlubs who are booking the dregs of 1980's stand-up medocrity so as to save them from another corporate gig or Wendy's commercial audition.

Velveeta, it's sad to see you go.

Thanks to all the Austin people who showed up - to Kevin Booth and for all the work on the DVD and especially to Don King, the Austin tittie bar grand potentate who continues to bring droves of loud drunks to my shows down there. I actually got complaint email about your party. Those ass-buckets will never get the beauty of chaos but it's nice for once to get the comments sent to me about the audience rather than the visa-versa.

Remember that, before you fire off your comments. I stopped doing this for you years ago.

Check out this message board Joel set up.


No, I can't get you tickets to the AVN Awards. I have never been asked for comps so much as this event. But it's 225 bucks a seat so you can see why they might get cunty about errant freebies. Maybe one of you rich cocksuckers could buy a 10-top for 2000 dollars and leave it open for my people. Or maybe you can just send me $2000 via Paypal and I'll do it myself. You really have no excuse not to. Phil Mielke from Wisconsin sent me 25 bucks for no fucking reason and you know what I did with it? Not very much. But it was still really nice.

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