The Art of Being in Public...

...Is one I've never mastered. In fact, I realize that I shouldn't be in public at all unless I've had at least two cups of coffee. Anything less and I'm not equipped. I'm like a football player taking the field without pads, a musician going on stage without an instrument, or somebody that supports Sarah Palin without understanding any of her politics...err...somebody that supports Sarah Palin.

Today I went out after cup one, pummeled my way through the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner later. There was one cashier, dude in front of me was giving her a sales pitch on how he could save her money on the candy that they sell. Apparently he worked for some candy wholesaler or something. "Who do you get your candy from? Gee, we can save you 75 cents per unit!" This went on for a good five minutes, I found out the cashier lived in Ballard with her husband and really loves the neighborhood, they might move to the suburbs soon because they want to start a family, and on and on and on and I'm clearly waiting and honestly don't you realize this is your job and how the hell did some guy decide he wanted to spend the rest of his waking days with you given you can't even manage a TWO PERSON LINE!

Eventually, she noticed my rolling eyes and rung me up. "Do you want a bag?" "Yes." She looked at me strangely. "What? One word, that's all I've got for you, I don't have anything to sell you, I don't distribute candy, if I did I'd be bored." We weren't connecting. If she ever saw me do comedy she probably wouldn't dig it, if we ever met at a bar we wouldn't talk long, and if she was ever a cashier and I was a patron we probably wouldn't see eye-to-eye because she'd babble on and on to a candy distributor that takes his job too seriously.

After that I went across the street for some lunch at one of the busiest sandwich shops in Seattle. Of course I had to wait. It's a small joint, cash only, so I stood off in a corner while I was waiting for my sandwich. As luck would have it the table closest to me and within earshot was two people on what appeared to be THEIR FIRST DATE! Jackpot! I love this stuff, really. I listen all the time, then I try to gauge whether or not they have a shot, who's into who, it's a riot. Dude was way more into her than she was him. Eventually she brought up the ex.

"He told me my cats were dirty, that did it, we were done."

"So, do you like Dexter?"

Really guy? A TV show? That's all you've got? She already pulled the ex card, hope you didn't pay for this.

"No, not really. I don't know, I mean I do still kind of miss him..."

Crash and burn dude, crash and burn. It's over. Tables opened up around me, I could've sat down and waited, but like hell I was moving.

I even gave guy a topic but he botched it.

"What's with that creepy red-headed guy standing over there?"

"I don't know but it looks like he's laughing at us...and he's writing something down."

"I'm getting security."

Not a word of it. Maybe it's a bit insensitive that I got a kick out of a guy's failed date but hell, the sandwich was only $7.50, and I'm sure he makes a good living. Maybe he distributes candy.

To measure success...

In the metaphorical marathon that is health care reform our government just jogged 10 feet. (And during that 10 feet trampled some womens' rights and continued to pad the pockets of the parasites we've come to recognize as the insurance industries). With the amount of back-patting the governments are doing after this 10-foot scramble the marathon may never be finished in our life-times my fellow tech-happy-slightly-cynical-twenty-somethings. Alas, the world is full of pros, cons, crashing bores, scandals, failures, and every so often something interesting gets put on paper or record.

I won't be on stage as often this week. Main reason being I've got tickets to see the Mountain Goats tomorrow and the Pixies (Doolittle tour!) on Thursday. I figure I'll learn something watching people more advanced at their craft than I am at mine.

The Seattle International Comedy Competition is going on this week and I was hoping to catch some of it tonight since some of my friends are in it this year, but I got into the Steeler game, plus the beginning of the wet season has its way of encouraging me to stay indoors. After the game I put on a documentary about cults just to assure that I won't have pleasant dreams about another Super Bowl victory but instead am guaranteed twisted nightmares remnant of a Rob Zombie flick and I'll wake up in a cold sweat, maybe with heartburn.

My favorite bars are those that remind of a Bukowski novel. The place down the street from me, during the week at least, seems to be in that vein. Sadly, it took me over two years to give it a shot, and I've only got a few weeks left out here. I've been digging it though. One of the candidates for mayor drinks here on a regular basis, one afternoon he was telling me about the corruption and the votes unaccounted for, he's been robbed of several thousand he claimed, King county is up-in-arms, we're a sinking ship...Could be a drunk or he could be a right drunk, stranger things have happened.

"Some poets are drunks but not all drunks are poets." Though I'd also add that people that refer to themselves as poets probably aren't poets. What's a poet?

Songs to Stay Sane By

For anyone else that's feeling the grudge of this year of our lord 2009. Lately, I've felt like the main character from "Death of a Salesman." I go from stage to stage and eventually realize there's no money in my pocket. Eventually I'm going to lose it and wander into the same place every day at 8pm and start telling jokes.

"Who is that guy?"

"I think his name's Ron. He comes in every day, nobody has the heart to tell him this is a Funeral Home and he should probably leave."

Anyway friends, load this as a play-list and of course, no need to thank me, just pay it forward.

"This Year" The Mountain Goats--I listen to this everyday as soon as I wake up

"Fall Back Down" Rancid

"Los Angeles is Burning" Bad Religion

"Home for a Rest" Spirit of the West

"Wind Up" Jethro Tull (I'll buy a beer to anyone who can tell me the connection between SOTW and J-Tull, yes, there is one).

"Chris and the Angels" Hamell on Trial

"On and On and On" Catch 22

"The Dug Out" Ladyhawk

"51-7" Camper Van Beethoven

"Five to One" The Doors

"Atlantic City" Bruce Springsteen

"Droid" Selby Tigers

Really Playboy?

The October issue of PlayBoy will feature none other than the legendary Marge Simpson on the cover, a first for the magazine. The reason for this: to attract 20-somethings to the magazine, whose average-aged reader is 35.

It's good to know that just because most of us 20-somethings are broke because of the recession and don't have 7 girlfriends and millions of dollars Hugh assumes that we all fantasize about cartoons...May as well be realistic since apparently none of us are getting the real thing.

"I've got no cash, no lady, no future...show me the cartoon tits, please. Seriously, this is all I have left, the cartoon tits."

Besides, when I heard about a cartoon being featured in PlayBoy I lost all interest when it wasn't Lois Griffin from Family Guy. Lois is a true renaissance woman, well-read, intelligent, independent, sassy, sexy, why, she's practically perfect albeit two flaws: She's too old for me and she's animated. If Lois was in her 20s and a real person, well, I'd be down.

I can't believe Hugh thinks we twenty-somethings fantasize about cartoons, the nerve.

Facebook Groups I'd make if I had more freetime

...And wasn't worried I'd be the only member...

1. People who avoid e-wars but read them for entertainment.

Seriously, nothing good ever comes of them. It always ends up a posting match and everybody loses. I refuse to engage in them. Yet, they can be damn amusing to read sometimes.

2. I drink energy drinks and wonder if they're this generation's cigarettes.

Only time will tell...Ulcers? Eventual heart disease? Though, I'm certainly no doctor.

3. Italian-Americans who are tired of Italian-Americans with an obsessive and obnoxious nationalistic pride, you make the rest of us look bad.

Seriously. Healthy pride is one thing but if you base your entire personality and identity on the mass of soil ancestors you never even met came over from, get a hobby for hell's sake.

4. Children are usually afraid of me and I don't know why.

Maybe they have some kind of animal-like instinct and can tell that I don't care for them, or maybe they heard that joke I used to do about how living near the Boys and Girls club made me wish abortion was included in every basic health care plan.

5. I like girls that tell me when they need to fart.

It's natural, it's bold, it's honest, which in turn makes it sexy. Just don't drop trow and take a shit on the floor, that'd be too far.

6. If you think Charles Bukowski was sexist you need to look up the word 'misanthrope' in the dictionary and get over yourself.

You're too shallow to be that anally PC.

7. I write blogs that I probably won't think are funny or clever in the morning whenever I can't sleep at night.

See above.

An Open Letter to Joe Wilson

Dear Joe,

Boy, this is embarrassing, I mean honestly. I know, I know, you've got your support, some people have even been giving you money, I'm sure you're happy to be making money, even if it means catering to the whole "instead of solving problems let's focus on Obama being the anti-Christ" demographic.

Prostitutes make money too Joe. And, compared to you, they're far more respectable.

Sure there's a time for public dissent, there's a time for protest, but not when doing so turns an event meant to solve one of the largest domestic enigmas facing our country into yet another stage for political theater. I perform on stages all the time Joe, and you know who doesn't belong on stage? The heckler Joe, the heckler doesn't belong on stage.

I hate to be trite and play the whole "politicians are assholes" card but damn Joe, I question whether or not you're potty trained. We all need to have a concept of time and place Joe, and the other night, boy, you pissed all over the seat.

I was embarrassed for you Joe, and you have no idea what this means coming from me, I've got a thick skin when it comes to embarrassing politicians...I'm from PENNSYLVANIA for heaven's sake. We had RICK SANTORUM!! Ah, excuse me, just threw up in my mouth a little bit. Coming from an Italian-American family o boy, he was like that dude from Harry Potter, you didn't mention that name at the dinner table. Yes, that homophobic, Bush-parroting disaster of a human being whose name is now a synonym for post-anal sex lube and fecal matter was quite the embarrassment, convinced those weapons of mass destruction were going to turn up any day, making the most foul of homophobic and racist comments and then hiding behind a bible, man, I never thought that guy could be topped.

You've topped him Joe, you've topped him. Couldn't you have saved it for Hannity or Beck Joe? They were just a phone call away.

Anyway Joe, to leave on a positive note you've given me hopes that they'll just can the whole thing and eventually the voice for the single-payer system will become too loud to ignore. Idealistic? Yeah. I mean hell, we can't just yell out whenever we want.

--Ron

My New Diet

At times I have a weird eating schedule. Sometimes I won't be hungry in the afternoon, go out and do comedy, then be starving by the time I get home. I've decided that from now on whenever I have a terrible set I won't eat when I get home...because I ate already, I dined on a shit-sandwich. It only seems fair.

Tonight was definitely one of those nights where I wouldn't be eating, but I decided to let it slide because I was starving and knew I wouldn't sleep well if I didn't eat something. I'm already slacking off.

I did canvassing for a bit, not just because I needed some quick cash but because I thought a job like that would help with stand-up, if I can convince a stranger to give me their credit card information on the street I can convince them a joke's funny. It was tough. The toughest job I've ever had. And it's brutal. I felt like shit everyday, mentally and physically. My day would start at around 7:30am, and it would end around midnight. I wouldn't have time to go home after the shift because I'd go straight to stand-up somewhere. I got sick nearly immediately. I lasted three days. With everything else I had going on, it just wasn't going to work at the moment. Still, I enjoyed seeing that side of humanity, in terms of human interaction you're just a pan-handler that makes an hourly wage. Within my three days somebody told me to fuck off once, a woman propositioned me for sex and three people signed up with me. I would see tourists finding their way through downtown, looking for the library, Pike's Place, Pioneer Square, the Space Needle at times, though I was never really near the Center.

According to my supervisor one of my flaws was my low energy and the fact that I didn't approach a ton of people. We found that it was because I pre-judged them. "Why?" He asked me. "Because I've lived, I've seen shit, I know we're supposed to be optimistic about human compassion but I'm not sold." "Everyone that comes through our doors have seen shit, you've got to give people a little bit of credit." He was right about the first part, and he had a point, most of the people there were well-traveled, eclectic, cultured, but we all see different things. With the path I've chosen over the past several years I feel that I give my fellow man enough credit. We're flawed, we're animals, the best may be behind us, but we can learn and we can love. Some would call it misanthropy, others cynicism, I call it a healthy dose of realism.

By the way, here's what our health-care bill should say:

"Non-Profit Single Payer. There. Any room for misinterpretations or bogus death panel claims? No, I didn't think so. All of you insurance industry moguls can get new jobs selling used American cars. As for the rest of you, you're welcome."