Get Happy
Hey there 'Redheads... Thanks again to everyone who gave the blog a read in its first year. I hope you enjoyed last week's clipshow as much as I enjoyed doing it...to you. Ever forward. Are you in as good a mood as me? I certainly hope so. The world is your burrito...with extra guacamole. Let me count the multitude of cherries in the bowl...
First and foremost, FOOTBALL IS BACK! After enduring an endless summer of golf, baseball, and the WNBA, the only sport that really matters has made its way into the national spotlight. All the speculation of preseason is finally beginning to play out on the gridiron. We're starting to see that teams like the Ravens, Chargers, and Saints might be able to make a run. That loud sucking noise you hear is teams like the Raiders, Redskins (somebody take Danny Rouhier's shoelaces), and Packers shitting the bed in their first two outings. I am a football fan...no one team holds my allegiance. I just like succumbing to gravity on a Sunday afternoon, sinking into the butt groove on my couch, and settling in for a day of hits like this...
Ka-freakin'-blammo. Along with the excitement of real football, of course, is the faux face off of fantasy football. D&D without the dwarves. I find that having a hand in managing a fake team makes watching the real thing all the more exciting, for the simple reason that you have a rooting interest in just about every game on the Sunday slate. Go Steelers D!! Go Peyton Manning!! Boo Plaxico Burress!! My fantasy team is not very good. My current fantasy record: 0-1-1. I'm not sure what that says about my capacity for abstract thought, but it certainly says alot for my drafting ability. I stink.
Speaking of fantasy, the second thing that has Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder is something I told you about back in May. How quickly the time flies. Finally, it has arrived. The DVD release of
And there was much rejoicing...yaaay. No longer do dorks have to put up with the revisionist bullsith that has been shoveled down our gullets by the boxed set. As it was meant to be, Han fires first, the creatures are muppets, and Boba Fett ain't no clone. Yub yub. Sure, it means another Hutt-sized lump of cash for Lucas' coffers, but now I can have part of my childhood back. Sounds like a fair trade. Now I can be done with him, right? Wrong. I saw something on TV the other day that may find his force deathgrip on my wallet once again. Something insidious in its mining of nostalgia and dork sensibility. Three little words that could mean the dawn of the merchandising apocalypse... Star Wars Transformers.
Yes, that would be a Millennium Falcon that turns into Han & Chewie. This is a historic crossbreed of kick ass toys. Not since they spliced a Ouija Board with a Teddy Ruxpin (he spoke in tongues and his head spun around...hours of beyond-the-grave-cassette fun) has there been a one two punch to challenge for the hearts, minds, and allowances of America's thirty-somethings...that live in their parents' basement. That is the demographic they're targeting...don't kid yourself.
Speaking of giant robots (I was, wasn't I?), the third thing that has me smirking ear to ear is the assembly of the giant comedy robot that is the DC Standup All-Stars as we descended on the campus of American University. Chris White, Larry XL, Frank Hong, Erin Conroy, and myself combined to form Devastator and brought the funny to the disaffected youth. However, as the saying goes, "You can lead disaffected youth to comedy, but you can't make them laugh."
We gave them a fine show...what they took is another story altogether. One of the highlights of my set was a heckle from some joyless 18-year old. Everyone else is enjoying me, things are going swimmingly, then I hear some garbled shouting from the left side of the room. I look over and say, "huh?" His reply was, "AIDS is funnier than you." Normally, hecklers fluster me. I don't deal well with being taken off-script. That night was different. That night, we all got something before the show that eased our minds...our checks. There's a quiet confidence that comes from having already gotten paid. For the benefit of the rest of the room (and to give me time to formulate a response...good heckler trick), I repeated what he said. Then I retorted, "Yes, if you had AIDS, that would be hilarious." The kid did have a point. I've seen AIDS...it killed. Actually, it opened for pneumonia...that killed.
The last thing that has me all a twitter, is that I'm days away from thirty-something. This coming Sunday, the 24th, marks the 10th anniversary of my 21st birthday (it's a milestone, dammit) . I'm not sure how I plan to celebrate yet, but I'll be shoving a candle in something. I think I'd like to assemble a small collection of people who care that I've aged. Wherever and whenever this celebration occurs, you are all invited. I'll be accepting cards, well-wishes, large cash donations, and Fudgy the Whale cakes here at Stately Stern Manor. Until then, enjoy my gift to you...
To be continued...
First and foremost, FOOTBALL IS BACK! After enduring an endless summer of golf, baseball, and the WNBA, the only sport that really matters has made its way into the national spotlight. All the speculation of preseason is finally beginning to play out on the gridiron. We're starting to see that teams like the Ravens, Chargers, and Saints might be able to make a run. That loud sucking noise you hear is teams like the Raiders, Redskins (somebody take Danny Rouhier's shoelaces), and Packers shitting the bed in their first two outings. I am a football fan...no one team holds my allegiance. I just like succumbing to gravity on a Sunday afternoon, sinking into the butt groove on my couch, and settling in for a day of hits like this...
Ka-freakin'-blammo. Along with the excitement of real football, of course, is the faux face off of fantasy football. D&D without the dwarves. I find that having a hand in managing a fake team makes watching the real thing all the more exciting, for the simple reason that you have a rooting interest in just about every game on the Sunday slate. Go Steelers D!! Go Peyton Manning!! Boo Plaxico Burress!! My fantasy team is not very good. My current fantasy record: 0-1-1. I'm not sure what that says about my capacity for abstract thought, but it certainly says alot for my drafting ability. I stink.
Speaking of fantasy, the second thing that has Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder is something I told you about back in May. How quickly the time flies. Finally, it has arrived. The DVD release of
And there was much rejoicing...yaaay. No longer do dorks have to put up with the revisionist bullsith that has been shoveled down our gullets by the boxed set. As it was meant to be, Han fires first, the creatures are muppets, and Boba Fett ain't no clone. Yub yub. Sure, it means another Hutt-sized lump of cash for Lucas' coffers, but now I can have part of my childhood back. Sounds like a fair trade. Now I can be done with him, right? Wrong. I saw something on TV the other day that may find his force deathgrip on my wallet once again. Something insidious in its mining of nostalgia and dork sensibility. Three little words that could mean the dawn of the merchandising apocalypse... Star Wars Transformers.
We love the 80's!!
Yes, that would be a Millennium Falcon that turns into Han & Chewie. This is a historic crossbreed of kick ass toys. Not since they spliced a Ouija Board with a Teddy Ruxpin (he spoke in tongues and his head spun around...hours of beyond-the-grave-cassette fun) has there been a one two punch to challenge for the hearts, minds, and allowances of America's thirty-somethings...that live in their parents' basement. That is the demographic they're targeting...don't kid yourself.
Speaking of giant robots (I was, wasn't I?), the third thing that has me smirking ear to ear is the assembly of the giant comedy robot that is the DC Standup All-Stars as we descended on the campus of American University. Chris White, Larry XL, Frank Hong, Erin Conroy, and myself combined to form Devastator and brought the funny to the disaffected youth. However, as the saying goes, "You can lead disaffected youth to comedy, but you can't make them laugh."
So, five lions walk into a bar...
We gave them a fine show...what they took is another story altogether. One of the highlights of my set was a heckle from some joyless 18-year old. Everyone else is enjoying me, things are going swimmingly, then I hear some garbled shouting from the left side of the room. I look over and say, "huh?" His reply was, "AIDS is funnier than you." Normally, hecklers fluster me. I don't deal well with being taken off-script. That night was different. That night, we all got something before the show that eased our minds...our checks. There's a quiet confidence that comes from having already gotten paid. For the benefit of the rest of the room (and to give me time to formulate a response...good heckler trick), I repeated what he said. Then I retorted, "Yes, if you had AIDS, that would be hilarious." The kid did have a point. I've seen AIDS...it killed. Actually, it opened for pneumonia...that killed.
The last thing that has me all a twitter, is that I'm days away from thirty-something. This coming Sunday, the 24th, marks the 10th anniversary of my 21st birthday (it's a milestone, dammit) . I'm not sure how I plan to celebrate yet, but I'll be shoving a candle in something. I think I'd like to assemble a small collection of people who care that I've aged. Wherever and whenever this celebration occurs, you are all invited. I'll be accepting cards, well-wishes, large cash donations, and Fudgy the Whale cakes here at Stately Stern Manor. Until then, enjoy my gift to you...
To be continued...
posted by Jared at 9:17 PM
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