I haven't figured out a way to build a detailed schedule app with this Blogger template, so here's a run down of what I'm up to for the rest of 2009:

October 31: Mason City, IL @ Mason City Limits w/Larry Reeb
November 7: Terre Haute, IN @ Imperial Lanes
November 13: La Crosse, WI @ Howie's Live w/Peter Hefty
November 15: Minneapolis, MN @ Willy's w/Verbally Vicious
November 18: Indianapolis, IN @ Crackers (showcase, followed by Dom Irrera!)
December 10: Terre Haute, In @ Mulligan's
December 12: Charleston, IL @ The Elks w/TBA
December 15: Memphis, TN @ Neil's/Skitz

That All You Got?

Friday night I popped in to one of the local swill-shacks to see J. Boozer, a one-man army of musical aggravation who bills himself as "the world's drunkest band." Right on. In order to ensure a turn-out and sell a few beers, the manager booked a local frat guy who has a following of 40 or so other fratties and...wait, what's the short form of "sorority girl?" Sorries? Frat guy has two original songs and a long list of predictable covers. Of course his fratty and sorry friends cheer his barely competent versions of everything, and when Boozer hits the stage they stare or wander off to play with their cell phones. I'm not saying Boozer is the best act I've ever seen, but what is the appeal of watching some milk-toast dude do uninspired songs that can be heard on the radio all day every day? When I step onto a comedy stage, I don't have the option of doing cover jokes. In the funny business that's called stealing and will get you fired and/or punched in the throat.

Good evening folks. Hickory dickory dock, git'er done, and now watch as I smash this watermelon...

I have no problem with bands doing covers. Echo & The Bunnymen do the best version of "Paint it Black" I've ever heard. But they made it theirs. Hayseed Dixie does bluegrass versions of classic rock tunes that are a scream. But if your whole show is doing other people's music exactly as written, sorry, but you have no business being on stage, much less getting paid. There's already a TouchTunes on the wall. If I want to hear "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon for the 37th time this week, I'll pay a dollar, hear the original version, then blow my brains out.

The End is Nigh (here's proof):

Of Course It's Not Racism

Who Cares?

The fact that anyone is wasting time discussing David Letterman's liaisons with staffers just shows - once again - how immature and puritanical American culture is when it comes to sex. Wait, Letterman has a penis? No way!

The only reason this non-story happened at all is that some idiot tried to extort him, and Letterman himself got in front of his own press and fessed up. Otherwise we never would have known about these affairs. Why? Because it's no one's fuckin' business but Letterman's, his wife's, and Stephanie Birkitt's. It's worth noting that Birkitt not only still works for the show but also never once filed any sort of complaint against Letterman, Holderman, CBS, or anyone else. For all appearances, the affair was between two consenting adults. Also, Letterman is neither a priest nor a politician reciting the "family values" mantra (which would explain his preference for adult females), and the only person he owes anything to is his wife. Or are there people who really look to late night TV personalities for their moral compass?

A bit of comedy history: Milton Berle was long reported to have the biggest penis in show business. Why? Because he showed it to a few people when he wasn't telling jokes. Get over it.

Jane Shure, however, feels that Letterman is deserving of ridicule in a public forum, perhaps even punishment, for his "abuse of power," his "hypocrisy," and the horrible state of gender relations in America that causes young women to be easily "victimized" by older, more powerful men. Nowhere in this cliched psycho-babble is the idea that maybe, just maybe, Birkitt liked the guy. Letterman has been on television for nearly 30 years. If he were a career victimizer of his employees, I think we would have found that out by now.

And here's the awful truth of the matter: there are women in the world who prefer men who are older than they are. And there are women who like men with some level of success. Is it the money? Sometimes. But more often it's what the money and authority and success represent: talent, confidence, intelligence, ability, a work ethic perhaps. Sorry, but not every 20-something female in America wants to do an Eminem wanna-be with a Ford Taurus and a cocked baseball cap.

This is awful, of course, only for the Jane Shures of the world, who feel that as long as there's any gender inequality in any segment of society (which is a thing worth rectifying) that any workplace relationship is somehow a form of rape. To them I say, go get laid.