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Bobbie Barnett and Baseball




If you don't know the "Bobbie Barnett" story from my "Something To Take The Edge Off" CD, you should listen to it before you read further.


Click Here To Listen


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Now, onto the e-mail...


See the e-mail here


From: Bobbie ******* (Bobbie*******
Sent: Mon 5/24/10 7:19PM

I can NOT believe that you did an entire section of your stand up about me!!!  Do you REALLY think my husband wants to hear this crap?! Seriously!  I am a born again Christian & this is NOT the type of stuff that I want floating out there about myself!  Do you know how many people I have run into that have heard this?  I am humiliated & you are NOT the type of person I would hang out with & by you going around spewing this type of stuff just proves what type of loser you are & that this is the type of stuff that is private & not something that should be part of your stand up!  THANKS a lot - I should sue your ass...just not cool nor funny!

The previous "Bobbie Barnett"...




Of all the people I've known over my life, you have remained in the number 2 "Where Are They Now" spot for long time , only behind the girl I married in a drunken stupor in Las Vegas in 1986 after only knowing for two weeks.

I'll save that story for another time - perhaps when she emails me with a subject line similar to your "Ass Hole."

First of all, I decided to respond here for your privacy in case your husband goes through your email. He's been through enough. I can't imagine what it would be like if my rational, adult girlfriend found out that I'd had sex with somebody previously. So let's keep it in the pseudo-secret landscape of this website until he comes to grips - through the Lord.

Sorry to hear that your correspondence is not a joyful one. The story I told about you was one of beauty and how difficult beauty is to grasp for any length of time. Yours was the object of beauty that stayed with me - over any sunset or mountain top. I apologize if that upsets you due to the seedier specifics.

Regardless, that story happened in the early 90's and I recorded it in 1999. Since then I have rarely repeated it. It does however remain on my "Something to Take The Edge Off" CD which receives a lot of airplay on satellite radio stations.

At this point, it's the number one download track on iTunes from my entire 20-year comedy career.

Don't worry though, I'm not real popular in Born Again circles. If you run into a lot of people who know the story, you are running astray from the flock. Or maybe God put you in those people's lives in order to save them. Just don't bet against them under any circumstances.

But I'm sure that I wasn't your only story like that, there's other jagged skeletons underneath the canvas on your apple cart and it's those stories that probably drove you to the Loving Arms of Jesus.

So, in a way, I kinda helped save your soul, no?

If it helps, I screwed up a few facts - evidently Mo Vaughn only hit an RBI to kick off the comeback and the score was off by a run or two. This might help God's decision to clear your name if he listens to Raw Dog on Sirius/XM. I'll look like a liar.

My point is that I never disparaged you in any way. In fact, you came out of the story as the hero. I'm not some Tucker Max blowhard or Joe Francis whose entire, wax-thin characters are built on glorifying the spent cartridges they've spilled on the backs of the women they denigrate.

Not that I haven't been a shitheel many a time and told a story about it. Just that at those times, I try to make myself and my errors the focal point of the story.

If you hold stories of any personal sexual experience as sacrosanct and "private," then maybe you shouldn't wager your pussy on a baseball game with a comedian that you met whilst drunk the night before. Sex to me is as hallowed as having breakfast or sneezing (moreso perhaps if you sneezed onto or into someone.)

The story is about overcoming societal norms that restrict one's self-esteem. Girls like you don't fuck guys like me, as you've repeated in your email 16 years later.

But - as the story goes - you did. You fucked me, Bobbie Barnett. You fucked me, and a 1000 repo-men with a 1000 tow-trucks can never take that back.

Not with an email. Not with a lawsuit.

If your husband left the hand of Christ, lost his path and decided to murder me in my sleep, it wouldn't get my signature out of the guest-book of your vagina.

I only knew you a week? A couple months? I can't put any accurate time-frame together.

I know I think of you every time I think of Knuckleheads at the Mall of America - I remember telling the story for the first time while we were there together, although it wasn't written out for stage, only riffed to tell people what just happened.

You laughed and played the
"OhMyGodICan'tBelieveYouSaidThat"card while you loved all the
attention and feigned embarrassment.

I think of you every time I hear "Hey Jealousy" by Gin Blossoms.

You may have punched me in the face the last time I saw you at a sports bar - maybe it was St Louis Park and maybe it was only a slap - during a Vikings game. I was a dick and pointed out a small rash of pimples in your cleavage. It wasn't a big deal. It's just all I remember other than the story.

It was really fantastic to hear from you. Believe me, there are girls who I'd love to find or hear from that actually deserve apologies. But me n you, we were just young with egos and hair products and we fucked like one fucks in those situations - only our happenstance was funny.

Maybe you still root for the Twins and I still occasionally cheer for the Red Sox.

So - in the name of Jesus Christ - let's heal old wounds and find some common ground. I will never have anything as silly as a Jesus and I guess you'll never have a sense of humor for dumb shit we did when we were young.

So how bout we leave it on this and go away friends.

Fuck the Yankees.




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