"Is that concrete all around or is it in my head...

Brother, you guessed..."

Mott the Hoople"All The Young Dudes"

Not a few months ago, Chaille and I were sitting in the bloat and raw smells of our own shame in a Peoria Radisson, trying to recover any necessary memories from the weekend that might be needed as evidence of actual innocence.

Marcus Brownrigg is a gentleman on the road with the USDA who we'd shared a cocktail and a story with at the hotel lounge nights before it had all spun out of control. Now, we're back in the lounge and rating our mistakes on a scale of originality when Marcus strolls in again.

We share another drink, Chaille and me looking with 1,000-yard stares and filth in our eyes. Marcus is our age but it's been a while since he's seen our days. "You know, one day your out boozing and chasing women and then one day you wake up with a wife and kids and a mortgage..." he starts. Chaille interrupts, "No, some of us still wake up in the same clothes we had on the night before." 'Nuf said.

---

Brooks Brown was standing outside of Columbine High School when his friends Eric & Dylan told him to go home. Then they walked in and killed a bunch of folks. The number is irrelevent now that the record has been broken. How many home runs did Roger Maris hit? You used to know but it doesn't matter anymore. But once they were kings, Eric and Roger and Dylan. And Brooks Brown caught the ball, so to speak.

Brooks had been initially and publicly identified by the local police as a suspect, a possible third gunman and that fucked up his life pretty good. I remembered him from the story. I did a bit on "Die Laughing" about school shootings based on Columbine, the gist of it being that other kids being rotten shitheads is never addressed as a driving catalyst to the violence. I said it funnier than all that, of course. Brooks Brown and his dad thought so and came to my shows in Denver & Colorado Springs last week. Every comic has moments that make them feel justified in what they do. For some it was Carson or Letterman or even a parent who didn't believe they could make it. Brooks Brown coming to see me based on a bit that was roundly booed in it's infancy by people not involved in the affair meant more than any money or exposure I've ever recieved. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold were some fucked up dudes. Life gave them lemons and they made gasoline. I made a routine out of it and Brooks made a book. His story is fascinating and you can get it here.

Buy it here.

---

Chaille, Bingo and I seem to all have colds that won't go away. We sent Bingo to the doctor because she has insurance. When we find out what's wrong with her, we'll split her medication three ways. That's communism.

---

My Showtime special "Doug Stanhope: No Refunds" premieres August 3rd and repeats throughout the month. The DVD will release at the same time eventually. I'll jack you up to buy it since that's my job.

Jobs suck.

---

I'd forgotten how funny Troy Baxley [ video ] is and I didn't know how funny Rob Pue [ video ] was but I found out. Google em both. And, while you're at it, Google Smoochknob. I'm hoping to do more shows with all of them down the road.

---

If you text me, don't expect me to text back. I'll read it but remember that you could just call and leave a message quicker since I almost never answer my phone. If I call you, I hope you don't answer either. Phones are for the transfer of necessary information as far as I'm concerned, not for socializing. We can talk about what's new at the bar next time we see each other.

---

I ordered about 400 dollars worth of documentaries from Amazon. I'm off the road for most of the summer and the worthy selections in this small town burn out in a weekend. 400 bucks is a worthwhile investment. I'll go through my library and let you know which ones you need to see.

---

"If you're headed through Laramie, Wyoming - come party with one of your Myspace friends!" This story gets kinda weird. I get these kind of emails every day from folks I don't know. Today I got one from some teenagers wanting me to come do shrooms in the woods with them in Massachusetts. Just the image of it all made me laugh. The difference with the Myspace friend in Wyoming - Dan Mickelson is that we were about to go through Laramie with the night off. Bingo's friend Graham even has a band in Laramie so we talked to him and hooked up a show with me and the band - Green Street Majority - on 24 hours notice, just to party with Dan Mickelson. I emailed Dan back and told him that we would, in fact, love nothing more than to party with him in Laramie and that we'd put together a show just for the occassion. Bingo and Graham spent that afternoon printing up t-shirts that said "I partied with Dan Mickelson" along with his Myspace photo. Even the dog - Ichabod - wore a "I humped Dan Mickelson" bandana.

This is where it starts getting weird.

Graham's roommate saw the t-shirts and said that he knew Dan Mickelson. He said Dan worked for him previously and that the called him "Shooter" much to Dan's annoyance. The roommate told us stories about Dan and some alleged date rape and then some retaliatory shooting up of someone's house with an assault rifle.

Later, we found out that Dan Mickelson had supposedly just gotten off house arrest for his role in the shooting.

Laramie, Wyoming you may know for the famous murder of Matthew Shepard - a young gay man that was lured from a Laramie bar under the false pretense of some homosexual lovin only to be chained to a fencepost and pistol whipped to death. [ Matthew Shepard Memorial Site ]

It turns out that Dan Mickelson's cousin had owned the bar that Matthew Shepard was set up.

It turns out that this is the same bar we're playing tonight.

We show up and Dan Mickelson is there with his girlfriend and they don't seem to know what to make of all the t-shirts and we don't know if he's armed or even finds this to be funny.

I offer him a shot and he tells me he doesn't drink. This makes me wonder what his idea of "party" means. He apologizes and makes reference to the fact that he gets a bit ugly when he drinks. I told him I heard a bit about him and maybe it was for the best that he stay sober. The show still lived up to our expectations of doom even without Dan being the loose cannon hoodlum we'd imagined. The night started rowdy and slowly spiralled out of control while fights broke out and the height of the stage was the only reason I could get nose to nose with a big meaty ham-head who'd taken drunken objection to something I'd said. The fearlessness you have from alcohol isn't necessarily good and a lot of times you really should be afraid when you aren't. I wasn't drunk enough to think I could win but I was pretty sure he wouldn't swing. I'm glad I was right. We never got the full story on Dan Mickelson. He seemed like a decent guy but I wouldn't want to have to hang around very long in Laramie to get to know him. Myspace is close enough for me.

---

We shot a lot of video on this last trip and a lot of it - including Laramie with Dan Mickelson will be up soon at comedynet.com. Stay tuned.

---

Another random email came from an attorney in Livingston, Montana asking me to come play the bar where he drinks too much on a regular basis. The offer included a guest house on the Yellowstone River for the weekend and a rafting trip. There's no place I'd rather be than Montana in the summer and it was the highlight of the run. We even ran into Rich Hall and his wife and got unforgivably shitfaced together at Chico Hot Springs. I don't have a massive base of folks who like what I do but the ones I do have are tenacious and overly generous. I get stuff from people all the time, CDs and DVDs and drugs and weekend vacations and odd or fantastic free shit in the mail. I love free shit and I always look around my place at stuff having no idea where it came from aside from that it came from one of you people on the road. Sorry if I don't say thanks often enough but I think it every day when I'm home.

---

I really sucked ass in Vancouver, more shows than not. That happens occasionally when I'm sick of everything I've been saying and haven't worked on anything new to replace it. Then I self-destruct and start over from scratch. Glad you could be there for a Last Days of Lenny Bruce-style meltdown.

---

Mamu took us to a sex club in Portland. Lots of middle-aged people fucking and blowing each other and jacking themselves off in different rooms and hot tubs. In Seattle, I took an aging whore up on her offer of a "scantilly-clad haircut." Neither of these stories go anywhere and not only because I had Bingo with me. There wasn't much at either place to lead me astray even if I were single. But I felt like I let you down but not at least jamming a comb in the whore or beating off on swingers just so this part of the update would be more entertaining or objectionable. A younger me would have done so.

Mamu and Chaille at Diablo's- Eugene, OR

I told Bingo that I should have some kind of out - where if any infidelity would lead to really good stage material, that I'd have a pass. I mean, I love Bingo but business is business. I haven't yet got an answer.

---

Bingo is back in Portland re-mixing and mastering her album. She sends her regards and says to tell you she hasn't checked her email or Myspace in a month and that she'll get back to you all eventually. She probably won't but her heart is in the right place. Stay tuned for news on her upcoming book and CD. The bird-flu cough should add an extra something to the music.

---

I'll be opening for Artie Lange in Vegas at the Hard Rock July 28th. You can get tickets here. These shows always teeter on falling apart and leave you tap-dancing for assholes. It should be a gas.

---

Another email - this one from a paralyzed Iraq war veteran - Tomas Young - thanking me for doing what I do. Like Brooks Brown, it was justifying to hear it from those quarters. He was referring to the material regardning the troops on "Deadbeat Hero," the same chunk that so many people said was offensive to people like Tomas.

I told him that if he needed new legs, that I've been a smoker for 26 years and rarely use mine. What else

do you say?

He wrote back and included a link to a new movie made about him by Phil Donahue with original music by Eddie Vedder. Check it out.www.bodyofwar.com

Watch it right after your 4th of July bar-b-que. It'll help settle the ribs. Trust me.

Stanhope in '08 has Quit in '07!

We're done, at least so far as being a candidate. For all of our false optimism, forced enthusiasm and the tireless effort of a small team of close friends, we couldn't get past the wall of bureaucracy.The Federal Election Commission proved insurmountable in their spiderweb of legal fingerfucking. The idea that I could run an effective campaign rested on the fact that I tour constantly for a living and have a built-in audience and media wherever I go. FEC rules would not allow for me to campaign at paid gigs while also retaining a personal income from those shows. If I can't recruit from my shows, I'm about as effective as standing on a milk crate in the city park. Even our crafty attempts at creating our own loopholes in the laws - like jailhouse attorneys trying to invent and employ makeshift last-minute defenses - still came up short in the face of the Federal Election Commision. The system is set up to keep the two-party monopoly as free from competition as possible. The penalties for fucking up with FEC rules make IRS penalties look like fetish spankings and I fuck up quite a bit. The other problem was simply in making the whole thing fun. The more rules, paperwork and bullshit we'd run into the less creative and funny it was becoming. The process started to feel like when we had to "clean it up" for the Man Show - and we all know how well that worked out. Our intention in this campaign was to try to get media attention for the Libertarian Party and we have no intention of giving up that campaign. It's frustrating to see this country bordering on totalitarianism and having viable options like the Libertarians completely blacked out. We'll still put our efforts into getting the LP into the mainstream and eventually get behind a candidate. But it was better to bail now before announcing as opposed to plowing through with our pants half down only to fall apart later, looking like complete shitheads at the expense of the Party. The amount of high-level people that went out of their way to support us was amazing. On the day that we have our shit together - more organized and better prepared to deal with the powers that be - we may just take another stab at it. So jump on board, join the Libertarian Party www.lp.or) and stay involved. We still plan on making some noise this year and turning the Libertarian National Convention in Denver next May into the Animal House of the Next Revolution. Be sure to get on our mailing list so you can get involved in the trouble we'll be causing. For those of you with Stanhope in 08 t-shirts, I promise I will try to die in some horrible fashion that makes them vaulable some day. The one I feel the most responsibility to is this chick who I don't even know, who tattooed Stanhope in 08 on her shoulder. We'll fly you down to our tattoo guy in Tampa and pay to have it redone when we play there in November. Maybe we can make it say "Sanjaya in '08". Or maybe I'll run for a local water commisioner post in '08 and you'll look like you're extremely over-zealous about low-level local politics. Many people have said that it doesn't matter who you vote for, that the whole game is rigged. That's why our next project will be to start our own Illuminati, Skull & Bones and New World Order that will secretly control the current New World Order without them even knowing. Our secret society will be so secret that many of it's member will not even know they are members. America has laws against monopolies and there is no reason that there cannot be free market competition when it comes to covert, world-ruling cabals and all-powerful, mystical fraternities. My deepest thanks to all who went out of your way for this truncated attempt at giving the whole system the finger. We still intend to say "Fuck You" loudly and repeatedly. We'll just have to find more unique, exciting and unregulated ways to do it. No matter who is elected to what man-made office or put on whatever throne, you are still the leader of your own free world. Stick around. ~stanhope

---

Saturday, April 28, 2007 This week's shows at Sal's Comedy Hole (May 3-5) has been moved to Comedy Village.http://www.comedyvillage.com/?gclid=CPqIw5vM64sCFRlmWAodIidkVg Their site might not have the date listed as it just got set up. Check here for any further updates. Sal's Comedy Hole shows have been moved to Comedy Village, May 3-5. Thanks stanhope

---

The Showtime special and new DVD should be out in the next few months so stay tuned.

In the meantime, don't wait for good comedy. Sean Rouse's first CD is finally coming out after years of me, Dave Attell and a hundred other comics breaking his crippled balls to release it.

He's my favorite comic ever depending on who's asking and always in the Top 3 no matter who asks. You can get his new CD "Spilled Milk" at www.seanrouse.com.

And speaking of overdue CDs...

Joe Rogan finally came through, too. It's a good month for comedy.

Get Rogan's "Shiny Happy Jihad" at www.joerogan.net. 

---

I wrote an update regarding the Don Imus  situation but before I could post it, 33 people selflessly gave their lives in Virginia to get him off of cable news. God bless them all. The relevent points of the update were... Imus didn't come across as racist to me so much as old white guy trying to sound young and hip by knowing the street lingo. Like your Grandpa talking about you smoking "mary jane" or your Mom saying something is "grody to the max". Either way, who gives a fuck? If a man that old and obviously addled-of-mind spent his whole show every day attacking me directly and specifically, I'd give it as much mind as if it came from an elderly dementia patient in a long-term nursing facility.

Who cares? Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, that's who. The civil rights movement is very much like Mother's Against Drunk Drivers. Started out as a legitimate cause only to have the Mad Mother's and MLK's driven out and replaced by blind capitalists scouring the fine print for another reason to stick their greed 'n' power loving fingers in someone elses feedhole.

Bottom line is that Imus was calling those chicks ugly. There were two basketball teams playing that night. If it were about race, he would have mentioned them both - unless the other team was all white. That kinda basketball hasn't been around since Naismith chucked a dead cat in a peach bucket in the 1800's. Imus called them ugly and thankfully for them he included something that could be maligned into the race card. You'd much rather have national press exposure for being a victim of racism than to be on the front page for being called dog-dick ugly. Ugly is something you carry alone. There's no Al Sharpton self-appointed spokesman for the ugly because ugly isn't a minority.

The only racism I saw was Imus apologizing to Al Sharpton rather than to the specific people he insulted, as though if you insult one black person you can simply apologize to any neighborhood franchised negro and it will get where it needs to go. 

---

Girls Gone Wild keeps creeping back like life-herpes on my resume. If you saw news about Girls Gone Wild owner Joe Francis getting arrested, you likely saw my face on the broadcast. We saw it twice in two hours on Fox News. They gave the story with footage that started with a fraction of a second of Joe Francis and then to endless footage of me hosting Girls Gone Wild looking as drunk and stupid as any man could appear on television, all with the graphic under my face saying "Girls Gone Wild Owner Arrested At Airport" or whatever the specifics happened to be. That's the same as if the owner of NordicTrack was indicted for exploiting minors and all the newsreel footage was of Chuck Norris. Only the general public would be more likely to know that Chuck Norris was not the guy they were talking about.

---

A Quiet Place to Eat Your Own Shit

Anytime I get an email that says "I know you'll never do this but..." or something to that effect, I'm always a little more interested.

A high school kid wanted me to come to her government class and speak as her candidate in 2008.

I'm well aware that I have nothing to teach a high school about government in general - in fact, probably the opposite - but it happened that the school was right in the path of my tour in small-town middle America. I know I'm going to have to start doing this shit soon enough - talking to non-partisan people who don't know me and without saying "fuck" - so I figured this would be a quiet and anonymous place for me to eat shit.

I found it quite easy to avoid any preparation since I had no idea what to prepare for, having not been in a school for 22 years and not remembering much of the school I did attend save for the loathing.

All I had was jumbled notes (that I never got to) and a whirlwind of random knowledge from the too-many books I've read in too short a time, not to mention a thrift store suit with the torn lining hanging out of the sleeves. I like dressing like a homeless person even when I'm dressed up. I bought the whole suit including shoes for five dollars nearly ten years ago. I'd like to try to return it to the store and ask for my ten years back.

High school hasn't changed at all. The air went out of both me and Chaille when we pulled into the parking lot and it was immediately that greasy feel of a soft rape from authority and peers that you can't understand.

I have a vivid recollection from middle school of being in the hallway and so uncomfortable and afraid of everybody that I couldn't seem to walk correctly. It felt as though my gait had become visibly and overtly awkward or that it always had been and I was just now acutely aware of it. I felt like Billy Hayes in Midnight Express, trying to appear normal while smuggling 4 pounds of hash through a Turkish airport. Terrified and unable to control my legs.

Now I'm terrified and in front of seniors only today my mouth won't work and I can't shake the audible tremor in my voice when I start to talk. The flop sweats started when we checked into the front office only to meet a woman who introduced herself as a reporter who'd be covering my presentation.

So much for anonymously chewing the pipe.

There was no point in trying to make a speech. The last thing high school students need is another boring old fuck telling them how to think without a word in edgewise. Instead I made it into a chaotic roundtable discussion to find out what they were passionate about. Of course, the subjects that they came alive for were the ones I care about most which is encouraging.

Still, I couldn't help but wander into subjects where I'm the least knowledgeable. It's the same tendency I have on stage to force in bits that are not prepared at all if only to test myself or fail miserably. Nothing motivates me after a show like coming up shamefully short and there was plenty of that at C-Ville High. All the information that I've poured into my brian spilled out in abortive half-sentences and unfinished thoughts, the art of the seemless dodge & redirect not yet learned. Partial-birth platform. Thank god I still had the jokes.

If I didn't change any minds, I had a hell of a lot of fun. If I wasn't presidential, I was a guy that soiled the monotony of another hour staring at a clock in that inhuman life-conditioning factory. If I didn't get 'em to vote, maybe I got 'em to think - even if they were thinking, "Who the fuck is this guy and why does he smell like bar vomit?"

View newspaper article here.

It felt like open mic comedy all over again when I left and I haven't been that excited in a long time. All the mistakes and blank looks secondary to the challenge of doing it right next time and doing it again soon. All those heads who still have hope and aren't completely demented by the system as opposed to the drunken meat that shuffle into comedy clubs and gave up years ago. Special thanks to Manda and Mr. S for inviting and allowing me to come to your class. I'll keep you anonymous so that the stain doesn't appear on your permanent records. Just know that I will watch tape of that class often while wretching into a mop bucket and you invitation alone will be the reason I'll be much that better the next time.

---

The road is endless and the current Presidential workload is a constant struggle against a mind that is wired for sloth.

Thanks to all who came to Vegas for the "Summit" to help with this moribund stab at an absurd goal.

Greg Chaille, Hennigan, Joe Vernon, Erica & Steve Bell, Penn Jillette, Bev & Horse and of course my lovely Bingo who finds all my boneheaded plays amusing and never ruins it by calculating the odds.

 [L to R - Joe, Bingo, Doug, Greg and Hennigan]

Also Tommy Rocker and L'il Ronnie Putnam for taking care of us and of the hounds at the gate.

Only those who take great risks reach glory but most of those risk-takers just end up wide and to the left, failing like chumps and looking like assholes. Yet, looking like an asshole is the only thing that gives me motivation. I think it's a no-lose situation. 

---

I won't even try to describe the weekend at the Lakeshore Theater in Chicago. All I will say is that I've never seen any club go that far out of their way to show that they are more for the artform than the profit. Babbit was the closest. Chris & Jessica Ritter at the Lakeshore have stolen the throne.

They were giving away - not selling, mind you - t-shirts that said "Dane Cook Sucks and You Know It" with their logo at the bottom. Same with full-page ads in the weekly. I would support that place if they had my name instead of Dane's, just because you knew they were more concerned with the type of comedy than the comment cards or chicken wings sold. That's hard to come by these days.

Rogan, Attell, et al, take note.

Chicago patrons as well.

Spread the word.

Lakeshore Theater. 

---

Check the schedule for new dates and keep checking back - they come up quickly and a lot short notice. That's why it's best to be on themailing list. I show up in weird places and one of 'em might be down the street from you.

It's gonna be a strange 18 months. 

I love drama. It's really gotten a bad reputation lately.

People are denouncing "drama" on Myspace almost as much as other people are denouncing Myspace. They hate drama, they don't need drama or they have enough drama.

No shit?

I love me some drama.

You don't love it? That phone call wakes you up at 5:45 in the morning with your gossipy cunt friend on the line asking "Guess who has AIDS?" - do you tell them to "save their drama" and hang up without finding out? Or do you shoot straight up like ants in your bed and shriek "Who????" Seems like I used to be mired in drama. I'd step in it like dog shit. I liked it - it gave me something to write about, to scheme about, it'd drive some adrenaline up my spine. Now I live in a town of 6,000 people and I can't even give the Safeway guy the shit-eye when I'm in a hurry and he's loafing off. In a town this small, if you tell someone to fuck off, you'd better mean it and mean it for the long term. Because you're gonna see that guy at breakfast and at the four-way stop and when you call the plumber it's gonna be him and he'll be at the bank and at the bar and at the poker game and possibly be the one answering your "lost cat" poster from the bulletin board at the co-op.

If you want him to fuck off, it's for keeps. It keeps you in check but it really makes you stop taking drama for granted, much less piss all over it like your life is far too complex to have any need for the cheap thrills of drama queens and dirty laundry all around.

"Did you hear what happened to Cherie in Mexico?"

"No! Please tell me! Add in lies or exaggerate as much as you can! I don't get this shit anymore. I just sit and listen to these dullards talking about car parts and re-telling the same bumper sticker jokes and I want to condemn any drama-basher to sit through this for an hour and not beg for someone to run in and say...

"Did you guys hear who died?"

God, I hope it's someone better than Gerald Ford this time. Anna Nicole? No shit. That's pretty good. It won't make the act but it brightened up my day for a second. Still, I'd rather have my own shit to talk about. Joe Rogan has some sweet drama going on and it's caught on tape. I love that about Rogan. It's always caught on tape. He's the Anti-Rouse. Sean Rouse has great stories but he's always blacked out when they happen so unless you have a credible witness, it's lost. Rogan always has a cameraman so you don't even have to take his word for it. Play back the tape, bailiff and let's see what's what. I wish Rogan would hang out with Rouse more often. Those would be some valuable tapes.

Check out the latest in Rogan vs Mencia. If you can lower yourself into enjoying some really egregious drama, that is.

---

If you are someone who expects something for Valentine's Day or are someone committed to someone who expects something for Valentine's Day, I pity you as deeply and openly as if you professed to know what God is. Valentine's, diamonds, anyone trying to take a 5% rake off of love. He doesn't truly love you unless he buys you this product. And fortunately for both of us, we happen to sell that product.

I want to hate the people who capitalize but, like church, when the suckers are lining up at the door like this, why would you wanna work hard for a living? I don't know who's to blame but I know who's complicit and there's more of them than there are of us. That fact and four days without a cigarette are enough to depress me greatly.

Don't worry, I'm conspiring to trick myself into smoking again after the next beer and then in the morning dupe my brain back into thinking that those late-night cigarettes were no different than drunk-dials, that they didn't really count and that I'm quitting just fine.

I can't keep any train of thought without smoking. It's hard enough with one burning in my hand. This was about Valentine's and diamonds and drama and now it's about going out for a cigarette. Hold on. That felt good. Someone sent me a drunken message on Myspace - I get a lot of those and give as well as I get - saying that they'd just smoked after quitting and how good that first cave-in cigarette tastes. How right you are, whoever you were.

I'm almost 40, standing in the back yard in my slippers sneaking a smoke as though I have anyone to hide from but myself. I have yellow legal pads filled with notes and Post-Its piled up in textbooks about American government and Libertarian politics. I have a dog that doesn't come when he's called and a girlfriend who is better at not smoking than I am. I have lists of shit to do, people to call, gigs to book, bills to pay, asses to kiss and fools to suffer. I have the illusion of a life.

What I don't have right now is drama. I bet it's on it's way. I'll be filming an hour special for Showtime in NYC at Gotham Comedy Club on March 13th. It isn't up on their site yet but save the date and show up. [Chaille adds: The show is posted now and you are encouraged to call for reservations (212) 367-9000] In the meantime, I'll be on the road in search of high drama.