Anyway, so there’s this really great Snow Patrol song Make This Go On Forever, and I became curious about who/what the situation was that he was writing about. Googling around, I found all these attempts at heart-wrenching stories from dudes who claim “ohh.. I can SO relate”. If you actually read the lyrics, though, you’ve gotta be a real asshole to go around acting like you’re the one who’s suffering.

I think we all fashion ourselves to be hopeless romantics, and artists with dirty souls, just wandering around looking for “the one who REALLY ‘gets’ me, ya know?”. This is an amusing delusion. And I come armed with an example! A translation of Make This Go On Forever..

Please don’t let this turn into something it’s not

You’re freakin’ out over nothin’ here, toots. Are you on your period?

I can only give you everything I’ve got

You’re asking for too much from me, here. What, like, you’re perfect?

I can’t be as sorry as you think I should

I can’t be as sorry as you think I should

But I still love you more than anyone else could

You better hang onto me, cause… you know that weird thing you do w/your toes when we’re fucking? Yeah, other dudes would dump your ass in a heartbeat. Just keep that in mind here.

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

I mean, really, how many times do I have to apologize? I’m, like, real sorry. See?

This splintered mast I’m holding on won’t save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong

I’m an artist. Look at me! Arty and shit! Did I mention I was sorry?

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could

Woe is me. I’ll never love again. You’re, like, the ONLY one for me!

First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything

Remember when we first kissed? That shit was hot. Can we drop all this and… y’know, get back to THAT?

The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned

You’re so wise, baby. Teach me your ways. So I can ignore them next time I fuck up.

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

What did you mean by “Is THIS how you treat someone you supposedly LOVE?” – cause all I heard was “love”, and I’m still kinda confused why you walked away after that.

We have got through so much worse than this before
What’s so different this time that you can’t ignore

Remember last month, when one of those girls I was having a threesome with (while you were out of town) squirted onto that teddy bear you’ve had since you were a kid? Ohboy, were you pissed. But… hey! We got past that, right? So, this shouldn’t be that different. That’s our dynamic. I fuck up – you forgive me cause I wrote you songs about it, then we fuck.

You say it is much more than just my last mistake
And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes

You’re just sayin’ that cause you wanna fuck other dudes, right? Is that what this is about?

And I don’t know where to look
My words just break and melt
Please just save me from this darkness

I’ll just be over here… crying to myself. Being REAL sorry. Not like last time. I really mean it this time. I’m, like, in the darkness and shit. Can’t you feel my pain?!? I’m a tortured soul!

Related posts:

1. We Have Hijacked Your Baby
2. Jesus Points
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However, as I actually have quite a shitload of things on my plate this year, I thought it might be a good idea to make them public so people can hold me to it. A brief rant about stand-up comedy follows.

What I’m Doing This Year (hopefully)

• Finish Grab Your Crotch and Roar
• Record my debut comedy album (more info below)
• Launch setl.it
• Change the Mitcz : The Expert format a little bit and do it more often
• Release the iPhone game I’ve been working on

Why is that shit not done already?

I have a whole piece prepared about the difficulties of writing and ultimately finishing the book. The long-and-short of it is threefold : 1. There’s SO much information for me to process; being a verbose guy – if I don’t find a way to compress that information, the book will be 700 pages long before I know it, 2. Writing the book is so important to me that I feel obligated to stew on every word to make it the best it can be (despite being pretty sure I’ll never live up to my own expectations), 3. It’s tough to find 3-4 hours in a day to just sit and write.

Frankly, reason #3 explains much of why I’ve not yet finished any of the things I mentioned above. I’m overwhelmed with work, after a long dry-spell of not having work to such a degree that I was falling behind on bills and I was in danger of losing everything. To overcompensate for that, I’ve taken on more work than I can handle. It’s tough to balance all the shit I don’t want to do but pays me well versus things I really want to do but don’t pay at all until months after they’re finished (if at all).

Hopefully, you see my dilemma.

A Brief Rant on Comedy

I know I don’t perform often enough. I’m fully aware of that and while I’ve sat made bullshit excuses for why that is – it’s no one’s fault more than my own. The only defense I’ve really got left is that “working the comedy scene” tends to be a game of repetition, the time to constantly perform, having a large enough group of friends willing to see you, and keeping yourself on-track despite those 3 hurdles.

I hate repetition. For a time, I tried to write a whole new set from scratch every time I went onstage. As time went on and I realized I actually do belong on a comedy stage, I got more comfortable reusing old material. The last few months, I haven’t even bothered to prepare for a set ahead of time. Any new material or new ways of performing old material was written either on-the-spot while I was onstage, or just a few minutes prior to going onstage. That doesn’t feel like a fun challenge. While I love to make people laugh, I feel cheap if I don’t bring something new & unique to each performance.

I don’t have the time to constantly perform. And, being without a vehicle anymore, I’ve even less ability to go out as often as possible to perform. It’s a fucked situation, and one I’m trying to find ways to remedy.

The friends I have who would come to a comedy gig even semi-regularly either don’t want to be dragged out weekly just to see me or have already seen me enough times that it’s probably starting to get old. That’s fair, and I certainly don’t fault any of them for it. That’s just how these things go. I don’t really hang with a partying bunch of Hollywood folks that go out on weeknights and drop $50 at whatever bar we end up at. That’s no one’s fault – it’s just the proverbial lay of the land.

In spite of all of that, I still manage to perform pretty regularly and I’ve got quite a few gigs lined up. Having been around for awhile, it’s not difficult for me to get booked just to work the stage and hurl hot joke-love in the face of a crowd.

But, I’ve been getting a little bored. I see the same comics and hear the same jokes out of them week after week. I try to go up and do some new shit, but since the audiences tend to be the result of someone just inviting their friends, they’re often not an audience of comedy-lovers so much as they’re just “out to have a good time”. And, unless your act is well-polished and well-rehearsed, they’re not going to notice that you’re trying some new angles and trying to connect with a willing audience. The places where you’ll find crowds like that are, for instance, The Hollywood Improv. Wanna know how to get to the Hollywood Improv? You bring a bunch of friends to enough smaller gigs that shows you have a “pull” and can bring a crowd, and you’re asked to bring that crowd to The Improv.

If you’re not bringing crowds to the smaller clubs, you won’t be asked to perform at the bigger clubs. Fun little catch-22, because it’s tough to promote an unknown club, despite the fact that I bring pretty good crowds of friends every time I’ve performed at The Improv.

My Comedy Solution (and my debut album)

I wanna do a few more smaller gigs that don’t require bringing anyone out (I have several of those lined-up, thankfully) and I’ll use the time to try some new shit and further polish some old shit. Then, I’ll be setting up a huge gig somewhere to do a full 45-minute set that I’ll record and put onto an album.

After that, I’ll probably bow out of the comedy scene for awhile and work on all that other shit I wanna do, and let the album work its way around. I’m not sure what will happen with it, but I hope everyone who’s ever wanted to see me will come out for the recording and we can make it into the best night of comedy I’ve ever given to a crowd. Maybe I’ll even do discounted pre-orders for anyone in that crowd, and I’ll send them physical CDs of it when it’s pressed.

Anyway, that’s my plan. Feel free to hold me to it.

Related posts:

1. Hardcore Comedy + Hardcore BDSM = Fun?
2. RE : Mitch Hedberg
3. Comedy Store gig recap – WITH FULL AUDIO of performance

Anyway, the point of this post is to look over China’s response to Google. The wording is.. a little murky. So, I’m providing a translaton.

BEIJING, March 21 (Xinhua) — From groundlessly accusing the Chinese government of supporting hacker attacks against it

Google figured out we were trying to keep them from skirting our intense censorship laws.

..to pushing China abandon the legal regulations on the Internet by threatening to withdraw from the Chinese market, many facts have shown that Google is politicalizing itself.

We’d really prefer Google didn’t discuss China’s policies out in the open like that. We’re trying to run a strictly-controlled society under a totalitarian government system here, thankyouverymuch.

Google, as the world’s largest search engine, should understand an internationally accepted rule as well as other enterprises, if not better, that no matter in which country you conduct business, you have to obey the laws and regulations there.

Our playground, our rules. You can take your ball and go home.

In fact, no country allows unrestricted flow on the Internet of pornographic, violent, gambling or superstitious content, or content on government subversion, ethnic separatism, religious extremism, racialism, terrorism and anti-foreign feelings.

We’re no different from anyone else! Every government censors any and all information that freely passes through the citizens’ computers! If we tell flat-out lies like this, no one will notice they’re being raped of their freedom!

China has been implementing the reform and opening-up policies for more than three decades and its stance for keeping the door open remains unchanged. Having conducted business in China for four years, Google has benefited from China’s opening-up policies and its vast market.

C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re evil and censoring everything. We even let Google come in and only serve about 0.05% of the information on the internet! Look at us go. If you’re nice, maybe in 20 years, we’ll let you read about the history of ouija boards.

Google is currently at a crossroad. Whether it eventually leaves the Chinese market or not, one thing is certain — China’s Internet market, which has already been the world’s biggest with nearly 400 million netizens, will continue to prosper.

HA! Google thinks we care if they leave. Psh. There’s 400 million people here who’d gladly tell you they don’t give a shit about Google, either! (because if they don’t say that, we kill their family and lock up their children to make some Nikes).

Whether it leaves or not, the Chinese government will keep its Internet regulation principles unchanged. One company’s ambition to change China’s Internet rules and legal system will only prove to be ridiculous.

Eat our dicks, Google. This censorship thing is working out great for us as a government, cause no matter what we do to these people – no one’s allowed to say shit! In fact, they’re not even allowed to know the shit we did! HA!

And whether leaving or not, Google should not continue to politicalize itself, as linking its withdrawal to political issues will lose Google’s credibility among Chinese netizens. That, will make Google end up to be the biggest loser.

Just in case you’ve considered spreading dissent and free-thought with your big ol’ web servers – we’re just gonna let you know : no one’s even paying attention. So, don’t even try it. Seriously. It’s not worth it. No one’s gonna care and… ya know, it’s just a big waste of your time. Hey look! Something shiny! Yeahh…. stare at the shiny thing… *runs away*

Serious Thoughts

Wouldn’t it be great if Google had just pretended to go along with it and then one day – BAM! They turned off the filter? Wouldn’t that be amazing? I wonder what would happen. I mean, obviously China would sooner have all the wires in the country severed in half than let free speech run rampant – but that would take awhile. For at least a few hours, all of China would be completely free to explore any information they wished. If I were running Google, I’d strongly consider that course of action. I mean that sincerely.

This whole thing reminds me of a story a friend of mine (and former business associate) told me. You see, his father helped American companies outsource their manufacturing to China, and eventually my friend got in on that with him. He even had a separate apartment in China for all the time he spent there. Because almost everything is paid for by the gov’t, people were paid the equivalent of about $50/month. Meaning, for my friend, that he could go to a club and get full VIP service, bottle service, private dancers, etc. and walk outta there having only spent about $60.

Anyway, the most fascinating thing he told me was that while walking down the street w/some of his clients, he jumped up on a little wall. One of those 2-3 foot walls they have near sidewalks. He jumped up and balanced-while-walking. Nothing major, the kinda harmless weird thing you just do for kicks. I don’t think any of us would’ve even batted an eye. But, his clients and associates just… stopped. Dead in their tracks. They looked at him like he decided to shit on the sidewalk and wipe his ass with dollar bills. One of them finally spoke up – “what…. doing?”. He said “I dunno… just felt like it”. They stared at him, confused. One of them asked something along the lines of “were you told to jump up there?”, and he said “Nope. Just… freedom”. The translator looked at him and said “I can’t tell them what you said”. Now, he’s all confused – “Why not?”. The translator’s answer to him was…

“They wouldn’t understand the word, there’s no translation for it, and no way for me to explain the concept”

Imagine that. Being a grown adult – having literally no idea what freedom was, and no way to even learn about it.

So, he just smiled at them to smooth it over and they kept on walking.

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It would be great if…

…the leaders of the Republican party would just drop the shit and say “Okay, okay.. that whole ‘God and Jesus’ thing is just a ploy to retain an emotional stranglehold on the masses so they don’t notice when we financially rape them”

…the U.S. legal system would consider a rape victim’s sexual history, proclivities, social activities and social circle “inadmissable as evidence” and instead focus on the only thing that matters : did the girl get raped? (sidenote : although only 2-8% of rape cases turn out to be lies, only 5.7% of rape cases actually result in a conviction. so, why does everyone focus on the extremely fringe possibility that a girl might be lying?) – sources here and here

…I could be having a fun and interesting conversation with a woman at a bar and could just say “look, you’re attractive and fun to talk to. I’m painfully curious to see your boobs, though. Can we make that happen so I can focus on the rest of our conversation?” without being told that’s “creepy”, “sexist”, “misogynistic” or “promoting rape culture by objectifying woman”. Truly, can’t I love your brain AND your body? Is that so wrong?

…I was on tour right now. Man, that’d be SO great.

…I hadn’t gone through so many financial and employment woes in the last year to the extent that I lost my car. I could aimlessly drive somewhere right now. I miss doing that.

…I was in Vegas. I miss you, sweet Vegas.

…I was going down on a strange woman right now.

…some strange woman was going down on me.

…I knew what the hell I was going to do with my set on Wednesday. I’m sure I’ll figure it out 10 minutes before I get onstage.

…that straight razor I bought the other day had arrived. Don’t know what’s taking so long on that.

…any of the 3 checks I’m waiting on from clients had arrived this week. I’ve got “going out” money, but not enough “pay off all the bills and do some shopping” money until they come in.

…I knew whether or not I got that gig with Playboy TV. Cross your fingers for me, will ya? (even if it means my penis on your TV, just cross ‘em damnit)

…short guys would just try and get a personality instead of pumping iron at the gym and then walking around angry and picking fights with everyone. It’s not my fault that genetics dealt you the Short Guy card. (kudos to you if you’re a short guy reading this, that means you’re reading… and not at the gym, or picking fights. keep that up)

…women would get over the height thing. For all the claims I hear made about men being superficial about looks, feel free to ask any woman you know if they’d date a guy 3-4″ shorter than them. (this also would cut down on the angry-short-guy thing)

…I could find the damned site (for, I think, some brand of tequila) that had women answering common questions about men. The height one didn’t have a single “yes” response to the question “would you date a guy shorter than you?”. If you find the site (it’s black, built in Flash, has green accent lines, and I think it’s part of a viral tequila brand) then please let me know.

…I could stop blogging now so I can head out for the evening.

Oh, wait. I can. Take care.

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3. Time For a Moral Conundrum…

Nonetheless, here’s a quick breakdown of Do’s and Don’ts.

Do Not…

• Use netspeak/slang. (words like “ur”, “u”, “luv”) or bad spelling (“wut”, “realy”, “cant”)
• Use physical compliments (“you’re sexy”, “beautiful”, “hey cutie”, etc)
• Mention using outside services to get to know them (email, AIM, yahoo, cellphone, etc)
• Mention god. Unsurprisingly (to me, at least), Jesus and God decrease reply rates even amongst other religious terms.

Do…

• Be humble, especially for men. Surprisingly “sorry”, “awkward” and “apologize” all had high success rates.
• Mention something in their ad. The phrase “you mention..” had the highest rate of any term
• Mention a common interest. It appears common taste in a specific band is your best bet.
• Compliment something non-physical. Phrases like “it’s cool that..”, “fascinating” and “awesome” did very well
• Use “how’s it going”, “what’s up”, or even “howdy” (my fave). “hi”, “hello” and “hey” achieved very low success rates.
• Mention atheism. Oddly enough, it got a success rate almost on-par with musical tastes. No other religion fares well, though.

The Perfect Message*

Putting all that data (hooray science and math!) into a human-readable form means that the following form letter should yield you the highest possible success rate for messaging another user on a dating site. The keywords/phrases from the OkTrends article in bold, insert your own variables between {brackets}

How’s it going? Cool profile. I noticed that you’re a fan of {band}, aren’t they awesome? Have you heard {obscure older album by that band, or one similar}? It’s amazing. Also, You mention {random topic}, so I’m curious what you think of {similar topic}. Sorry if these questions seem awkward, but I’m pretty sure you’d have some fascinating responses, being a fellow {atheist, vegetarian, metalhead, gamer} with good taste.

Hope you’re doing well, and maybe we’ll talk soon.

There ya go, kids. It’s like having an aggregating math robot do all your small-talk for you! Have fun with that and let me know if it works.

Theoretically, if the robots are to be believed, this hits all the right chords. I’d feel cheesy sending out this message, too, but it’s worth a shot

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• I am not a doctor
• I am not getting paid by anyone to tell you this shit
• I am not some anti-corporate conspiracy theorist shithead who’s going to tell you this information “is what THEY don’t want you to know, man!”
• I could give two shits if you take any of this seriously or not. Again, it makes ZERO difference to my income (see any ads on this site? nope)
• I have never, in 10 years of blogging, been a shill for the interests of any particular group or idea
• I’m only speaking from personal experience

QUICK BACKGROUND

All of that out of the way – let’s get to the heart of the matter. The “common cold” as it is often called is really just a generic ever-changing virus. The reason why there’s no over-the-counter cure is because it’s constantly mutating. It’s not life-threatening by any means, but it’s …. well, basically annoying. Ever OTC remedy you’ll find will say that it’s aim is to lessen the effects of the common cold. And, that’s great. I fuckin’ love NyQuil. I think it tastes great (I truly do, I wish there was a drink based on that shit), and it helps me sleep when I’m sick. The only thing I’ve found that actually does any good was Zicam. That is, until that whole class action lawsuit business. Still – I use it. Even the very item they say kills the sense tof smell. I still have that in my medicine cabinet, cause it worked pretty well for me and I can still smell.

THE CAUSE

Okay, so the only REAL way (as every doctor will tell you) to “cure” the common cold is to just let your body do its thing. And, what is that “thing” your body does? It heats up (this is why you get a fever), it drains fluids (in the form of a runny nose), and it ejects pieces of the virus stuck in your air passages (in the form of a cough). Viruses are simply cells that are not native to our body. Most viruses (this includes the “common cold”) can be heated internally and destroyed. It just takes a few days to really do it up right. Our bodies are pretty amazing like that.

THE CURE

The reason you’re reading this, I’m sure, is “okay, what is this fucking cure you speak of?”. To put it simply : get yourself a hair dryer, point it at your face, and breathe. To put it into instructional format….

1. Get yourself a hair dryer with an adjustable heat setting
2. Put it on “low” heat
3. Point it up at your nose
4. Keep the dryer’s temperature and proximity to your face at a level that you can FEEL heat going into your airway, but BEFORE it becomes anywhere near painful. It’s likely to be uncomfortable, but not by any means painful.
5. Breathe deep, slow breaths for between 5 and 10 minutes (I usually go for 10, doctors say “around 3 to 5″ minutes)
6. Blow your nose
7. Go to sleep

My personal experience was to do this on the first night of noticing I’m starting to get a cold. That weird scratchy feeling in your throat, the beginnings of your nose running and being “sniffly” – that’s when I do it. I take some NyQuil (or a sleeping pill, as I did a few months ago), and I follow the techniques I outlined above. I woke up the next morning feeling right as rain.

THE RESEARCH, PROOF, AND PROFESSIONALS

I first found out about this through a comment on one of my favorite sites of all time – Metafilter. Specifically ask.metafilter.com – a subdomain dedicated to users asking other users questions. One comment in particular is this one here that breaks down the basics of why it works. Another comment (from the same user) mentions it again in reference to allergies but this time – he links to an actual doctor’s recommendation about it. I have since Googled around and found other links…

• This eHow article
• This entire thread of Ask MeFi that is replete with other people extolling the virtues of “the trick”
• All the times the hair dryer trick was mentioned on Ask MeFi
• An entire Google search about it, which brings to light a few other times it might work

Take it or leave it – I’m just putting it here cause it worked for me and it might work for you. That’s why I wrote this entry.

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If you don’t yet “get it” – allow me to elucidate.

My Enablers

First and foremost, if the only time you read or update Twitter is by going to twitter.com, you’ll probably never “get it”. It might sound silly, but it’s way too much work to sit there and refresh your feed manually. And, for posting, to have to head over to bit.ly, TwitPic, TwitVid, yFrog, etc to manually shorten a URL or upload a pic/video is a giant pain in the ass. That kind of activity will discourage your Twitter usage mighty quick.

Personally, I use a great (free if you don’t mind the occasional, but very classy, ad banner) program called Tweetie. It updates itself every 5 minutes or so, and lights up a small icon in your menubar (if you so choose) when new tweets come in. If you’ve also got Growl installed (which I do), you can also get fancy Growl notifications for any mentions, replies, or direct messages. I keep Tweetie running 24/7, even while I’m sleeping, and while I don’t read every single tweet that comes through – I can skim and see if I’ve missed anything neat. When posting, it’s a simple keyboard combo (command-option-s) to immediately shorten URLs, and it has in-app “record video” and “add image” capabilities. Again, this is all within the app, no need to venture around and use all these other sites.

Beyond that, I finally bought an iPhone about 2 months ago. I bought Tweetie for the iPhone to get Twitter on-the-go. Tweetie 2, which was just released, is even better. I’d say it’s the best Twitter app for iPhone – and some other folks agree. I can snap a photo or video and post it instantly – like a dude trying to sell a baby bunny on Hollywood Blvd or my name on a marquee . That’s fuckin’ amazing, damnit.

Combine those two things and I’ve got Twitter everywhere. But, you might be asking, why the fuck would you want Twitter everywhere?

My High

Easily the number 1 detractor for new users coming to Twitter is that question “what are you doing?”. Let me say this now – I almost never care what you’re doing. Moreover, almost no one even posts what they’re doing anymore. The question should be “what’s on your mind?”. Now that’s a question I can get behind. That’s an answer I want to hear. Conveniently, that’s the question most people are answering anyway.

I follow a lot of comedians – I like to know where they’re performing next. When their next CD/DVD/Special is coming out. Better yet, most of them try out one-liners and joke concepts via their tweets. I do it, too. It’s a great way to get instant feedback. I posted the following one-liner a few days ago and it got re-tweeted about 12 times in a matter of minutes :

Beyoncé says “if you like it, you should put a ring on it” – which is why I’ve had my dick pierced for 12yrs now

Whereas, I previously talked about my Prince Albert in my stand-up act by saying “I love my dick so much – I bought it jewelry”, I’m thinking this line about Beyoncé might work better. That’s good information to know.

I read live updates from the set of Iron Man via Jon Favreau’s Twitter. Found out about UCB appearances by Thomas Lennon, Weird Al, Chris Hardwick and Doug Benson. When Reno 9/11 was officially cancelled, I found out about it moments later because of Thomas Lennon’s Twitter update. Oh, and Danny Devito loves to post pics of his “troll feet” in interesting places.

Friends of mine will post restaurant and club recommendations, summarize an evening of debauchery, live-tweet a bad date, review movies & tv shows, post fascinating/funny links… you name it. Getting the occasional snapshot of your friends’ mental state is a fascinating thing.

The Twitter Hate

The funniest thing in the world to me about Twitter hate is that it generally comes from people who use “status updates” on MySpace and Facebook. Umm… you DO realize that’s the EXACT SAME FUCKING THING, right? The pleasant difference is – Twitter doesn’t have “friend requests”. You follow whomever you want, and if they want to be notified of new followers, they will be. If you “unfollow” someone, they’d have to manually check your profile and see that you weren’t following them anymore. There’s ZERO indication that you’ve stopped following their updates otherwise. This makes follow/unfollow into a nice, passive activity. And, something you can do or undo any time you want – in ONE CLICK. Sometimes, I’ll unfollow people for a few days because they’re live-tweeting something that doesn’t interest me and it’s taking over my Tweetie stream, and then I’ll follow them again a few days later when it’s died down. I go back and forth with Kevin Smith’s tweets because he gets a little out of control with the whole thing. Right now, I’m not following him.

Wrapping Up

Seriously, Twitter is amazing. It took me awhile to “get it”, but now… I just love the shit out of it. It’s not just entertaining, it’s also great for self-promotion, and learning new things, and seeing new sides of people I’d otherwise never know. It’s just an amazing bit of technology that seems simple and stupid but is a great example of letting a community define the utility.

Oh, and you can follow me here if you’d like.

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This was the man (well, boy, really.. he was actually 26 days younger than me) who introduced me to D&D and roleplaying.. Introduced me to martial arts. To Frank Frazetta. He taught me how to throw shurikens, wield nunchuks, and eventually how to throw knives. Most of this occurred before we were 10 years old.

From there, we moved onto making our own non-lethal weaponry so we could spar with each other. By the time we were about 13 years old, he and I would hold knife-fighting competitions in the empty desert lot behind his house. That’s where I got my first (and so far, only) not-self-inflicted knife wound. I also stabbed a mutual friend of ours in the leg, which none of us thought was a big deal at the time, but that friend’s mother “banned me” from ever going into his house. Suddenly, Kevin’s mom started wondering if maybe I was maladjusted. Telling her “c’mon, we were all just fucking around – look, I’ve got a knife wound, too!” didn’t help matters.

Kevin was the person who introduced me to classic punk, when I was 12 years old. We even started our own punk band – Flaming Urine (I don’t think Flaming Lips existed at the time, that name was just something Kevin thought would get people’s attention). We made t-shirts for the band out of puffy paint, featuring an upside-down toilet dripping urine into a wine glass on fire, and I got into a fight in 7th grade when some jock tried to light the shirt on fire while I was wearing it. Hanging over at Kevin’s place and writing angry, screamy punk songs about slaughtering said jocks really helped me get through that time.

Together, we attended our first concert, at 13 years old, which was Social Distortion supporting The Ramones. At the time, we had no idea who The Ramones were. We were there for Social D. After the show, we both picked up a few Ramones albums and that became a soundtrack for our shenanigans for a little while. I can remember asking my sister to take us to a crusty underground punk club in downtown Phoenix to see Green Day (this would’ve been just before the release of Dookie). Her respons was “I’m not taking you to see some stupid punk band… jesus, Mitcz, you’re 14 years old”. Almost a year to the day later, my sister would pull up to our house in her Jeep, rocking Dookie and asked me “have you HEARD this band, Green Day? They’re amazing”. *Le sigh*.

In my freshman year of high school, his girlfriend was transferred to my school. Nad and I immediately befriended her because it was like having a piece of Kevin with us in our crew. And, it increased our odds of seeing him at some point. Didn’t hurt that she was a gorgeous punk chick and we were (and, frankly, still are) a couple of geeks with good taste in music.

He got wilder and wilder over the years. I remember him coming to visit me one summer afternoon and my mother almost screamed cause he walked in with about 10 safety pins throughout his ears and face, and only one lock of green hair on an otherwise shaved head. A little while later, he started moving beyond just smoking a little weed and was getting into coke and speed.

Since he lived on the other side of town from me, as I grew up, I ended up moving further and further away from him. By the time I graduated high school, I hadn’t seen him in probably 2+ years.

During a short trip to Phoenix while I was living in Seatlle, back in ‘99, I saw him at the mall. He looked all fucked up. He had this strange, disheveled look on his face, was thoroughly unwashed, and told me “you look good, man”. He was impressed that I was running a web design business in Seattle. My life imitated the movie SLC Punk when the conversation ended, as he said “so, uh… how ’bout kickin’ a couple bucks to your old pal, Kevin? I could really use it, man. I’m …. ya know, I’ve just been couch surfin’. Me and the backpack”. I couldn’t tell you if I gave him any money, but I remember a piece of me dying as I sat there and looked at him. This was my fuckin’ hero. Reduced to panhandling at the fucking mall and living out of a fucking backpack.

That was the last I ever saw of him. And I always wondered if he managed to get back up on his feet again. This was a man with amazing potential, incredibly brilliant, charming.. you name it. Honestly, everyone I ever introduced him to wanted to be his best friend within minutes.

So, tonight I went Googling. I was pleased to find posts he’d made on a number of spiritual websites, where he was looking for other buddhists to convene and meditate with. A few clicks later, it appeared he had a nice little group going, and even found a temple he could hold gatherings at. The few photos I could find throughout those sites showed a grown, 30 year old Kevin. Clean, clean shaven, looking healthy, slim (but not scrawny), and he seemed very happy. Way to go, man. Fuckin’ rock on. He even had a meetup group where he was helping people learn French. When the hell did he learn French? Crazy motherfucking genius probably learned it in his sleep.

A few clicks later, there’s mentions of a church. I thought maybe his spiritual quest had led him to Christianity or some such thing. A few clicks later, and it all made sense…

He passed away back in February. A mere 7 months ago.

Had I done this search before then, I could’ve connected with him. Maybe even had lunch with him on one of my occasional trips to Phoenix. The obituary was pretty short on words, but it mentioned “a long, hard battle”. I wonder if he had Cancer, as that would probably explain the sudden interest in Buddhism. I’d contact his family, as their information is contained in the obit. But, they probably wouldn’t talk to me, and it’d probably be painful to have to connect with yet another friend of Kevin’s. God knows they’ve probably had enough of those. His mom would likely still think I was a maladjusted, though now fully-grown, boy.

So, Kevin… I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed in contact with you. I should’ve at least made an effort. I’m a terrible friend sometimes, and I wouldn’t be half the person I am had it not been for you. Hell, I’m still just a geeky little fuck-up, but I’d like to think you’d be proud.

Rest well…

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Moreover, I also pick out behaviors I despise in others and tell myself to avoid inching ever closer to having them myself. The unfortunate side effect of this is that, in moderation, most “bad” behavior is actually good. And normal. Even worth celebrating. When I go too far out of my way to avoid what I find “bad behavior” in others, I risk losing an essential piece of what’s made me…. ya know, ME.

Helluva way to start a blog, but there’s a point a-comin’, I promise. Let’s talk about creeps and creepy behavior.

It’s no secret that I’m full-on single for the first time in almost 3 years. This means I’ve gone back to a Mitcz I was far more comfortable with – the single Mitcz. Who takes opportunities and runs with them. Meeting new people whenever there’s a chance and.. yeah, maybe there’s a date with someone new here and there (specifics withheld to protect the innocent and um.. not-so-innocent).

One thing I’ve seen/heard a lot of over the years is the overwhelmingly creepy behavior of people. Mostly men, sad as it is to say. What women admire and are attracted to above all other things is COMFORT. I could get into a rant on just that alone, but suffice to say that creepy behavior is the world’s biggest turnoff.

So, I’ve become paranoid about being creepy. To such an extent, in fact, that women have recently considered me timid and shy on dates.

Yes, me. The guy who’s stand-up has opened with jokes about baby rape and necrophilia. The guy who spent 4-5 nights a week for over 2 years getting women to flash tits on an internet TV show. The guy who went into the bathroom with my reality show date’s friend to play show-and-tell (oops.. I’m still under contract. pretend I didn’t say that).

But, now I’m timid and shy. And… much as it pains me to say, a bit of a pussy.

How the fuck did that happen?

The grey line.

Look, women tend to dig on a man who’s confident, self-assured, dominant and (sometimes) a bit rough. And that’s great in theory, but… hey, no one likes a rapist. So, you can’t just go around groping women and jerking off in their face at the first sign of a “hello, what’s your name?”.

And therein lies the rub. Because I love talking intimately about sex, and I love the little secrets women hold about their sexuality, I get into these long conversations that I adore the fuck out of. About the first time they saw a penis, first time they held a penis, orgasms, squirting, awkwardness in bed, their penchant for rough sex, you name it. And, because I’m not using this conversation as an interview for potential bedmates, I go out of my way to seem non-threatening. Like I’m Alfred Kinsey or some shit. Or, as they’re more likely to think… their non-threatening gay friend.

This is where it stands, then. I try to not be a creep and I’ve backed myself into situations where women think “aww.. little puppy”. G’damnit, woman, I will cum in your fucking eye.

Just.. ya know, not before I go down on you or something. I’m still a chivalrist.

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It’s a funny thing, my fickle ego. After a great set, I feel refreshed and on top of it all. After a bad set, I feel like I don’t belong on stage. Like maybe I’m just funny enough for people to not completely hate my act, but…. certainly not funny enough to justify carrying on. I never wanted to be one of those people who forces themselves on people and keeps doing something that I really have no business doing. I thought I was alone in this regard, but I listened to an interview with Louis CK recently, where he said that he always feels that way. Until very recently, he wasn’t sure he was cut out for comedy. If you know anything of his material, you’ll understand how ridiculous that sounds coming from someone as accomplished and talented as him. But, it felt good to know I wasn’t alone in that self-doubt.

Here’s the gig :

I credit a huge amount of what came out of me last night on being actually prepared. I used to rehearse all my sets for hours before any show I did. I would run through the act over and over again, keep a timer running, and record it on camera. Sit and watch to see if I forgot anything. Compare facial expressions. Intonations. Word selections. In my last apartment, I had stopped doing that. I guess I wasn’t comfortable there. Now, here in my own place back in Hollywood – I’ve never been more comfortable. This is my place. My world. My “art loft” in a way. And I love it.

The audience seemed fickle last night. One comic would kill, the next would bomb. On and off, on and off. Not as formulaic and predictable as it sounds, though. Comics I’ve seen tear a room up were struggling, and some comics that normally struggled were doing fine. It was very weird.

Just before I went up, I decided to make a minor edit to how I presented my opening necrophilia/baby rape joke. Instead of starting with “Anyone here ever fucked a corpse?” – I wanted to focus on the joke as if it were a problem we’ve ALL had. So, I opened with “We gotta talk, y’all”. To hear as big of laughs as I did after I said “anyone ever tried fuckin’ a corpse?” – I thought to myself “okay, I’ve got ‘em”. No one really laughs at that joke. It’s not particularly meant to be hilarious – just jarring. Grabs your attention. That I got huge laughs out of it told me I was gonna be fine.

From there… it just flowed. I didn’t forget anything, I didn’t leave out important bits. I didn’t struggle to remember any jokes. I even had to pause for longer than usual just so I wouldn’t get drowned out by the laughs. It was insane, and exhilarating. It was also the first time seemingly every comic in the room came up to me and said “dude! incredible!” Several audience members shook my hand or paid compliments just as I walking through the room. Even one of the bartenders took a solid minute out of his time to say he’d seen me perform a number of times and “tonight.. was just incredible. You’ve got it, man. You found your voice, and you fuckin’ worked it.” Sean would later verify that he saw that bartender stop dead in his tracks cause he was laughing too hard to deliver the drinks he was carrying. I wouldn’t have believed it when the bartender told me, but Sean told me the same thing quite out of the blue.

All in all – I felt amazing last night and I still feel it today. Most importantly – I feel I can go on. I don’t feel like a faker, a poser. I’m ready.

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I am a 30 Year old male. I have been dating a wonderful woman for 2.5 years. I would describe everything about her as perfect except for one thing. She absolutely refuses to [make me a grilled cheese sandwich.] Now I want to ask her to marry me, but the thought of going the rest of my life without receiving [grilled cheese sandwiches] is definitely a worry.

Now, thankfully, the advice columnist probes as to why the potential wife wouldn’t want to do it, and whether or not he’s asked her about it in greater detail. The advice ends on the note of, basically, “if it’s important to you — mention it. This could be a dealbreaker, and you should know these things in advance”.

But that got me to thinking.

It’s been pretty much ingrained in me at this point that grilled cheese sandwiches pretty much end with marriage. This could be why I’m 30 and still single – I’m frightened to death of the idea of a life without grilled cheese. That’s not any kind of a life I’d want to live.

Sure, there’s something to be said for finding the right chef to make the perfect grilled cheese — but I’ll take 10 average grilled cheese sandwiches a year from amateur cooks over 1 amazingly-prepared chef’s special grilled cheese that only gets served up once every 5 years.

Most of my life has been spent as a raging nutcase, running about single and uhh…. having grilled cheese sandwiches made for me by a fair number of very kind women (shout-out to all mah grilled cheese cooks!). I reciprocate in kind, most times (when/where applicable) and sometimes I’ve uhh… prepared a kiwi dessert without having received a grilled cheese sandwich in return. This is fine by me. What I don’t understand, honestly, is how any human in the world could go 2.5 years without a single grilled cheese sandwich (or.. kiwi dessert, for that matter). That’s just sadistic and wrong, people. If marriage means a dwindling number of such treats, down to the level of… say NONE a year? Fuck that shit.

I guess what I’m saying is – I really like grilled cheese sandwiches. And, I like making kiwi desserts. So, ya know, if you should get the urge to swap recipes some time, you know how to find me.

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Three years ago, I found a badass little spot in Hollywood. Cheap rent. Right off the Hollywood strip. Stumbling (quite literally, since I did it many times) from Hollywood & Highland and about 10 other bars and clubs for me to haunt. I had an internet TV show. Doin’ a little indie film acting. Meeting new people seemingly every day. I had a high-paying job, working my own hours, and plenty of *ahem* company when I was looking for such things.

But it went sour, when I tried to deviate from the path I’d long worked on carving out for myself. Not unlike young Icarus, who flew to close to the sun.

You knew better than I did, you… crazy little…. LIFE you. You tried to warn me. You put giant obstacles right smack-dab in the midst of this alternate path. I should’ve taken it as a warning. But, hey, you did already teach me to be steadfast and unwavering in my attempts – so, really, what else could you expect? The Mitcz marches on. Sometimes, ridiculously so and for little reason except to say “ha! Told ya I could!”.

I get it now, though. I do. I was foolish and inadvertently self-destructive. I’m back on the right path. And, you’ve made that painfully clear.

With a mere 3 days left in this month to get an apartment before I’d have found myself with nowhere to live — you sent the signal to my brain. “Go back to your old ‘hood. See what happens…”. And I did. And sure enough, a mere few hundred feet from where I deviated from my path all that time ago, was tucked away a sign, barely visible …. “1 bedroom unit available”. Not that I needed much convincing, but… to somehow magically fix my credit so I could write a check on the spot and move in the next day? For about $200/month less than I was expecting to pay for a place? First month’s rent… free? That’s just incredible. Oh, and nice touch on making the manager a young, hip, pierced, english-speaking woman who I could actually see being FRIENDS with (I know, right? Friends w/the apartment manager? But, really, she’s just so damned nice.). Then you go and put a healthy dollop of icing on top of the marvelous cake that she’s gonna come out to my comedy gigs w/her husband. That’s just… man, you really know how to flatter an old fool, life.

The message comes through loud and clear. Go back to almost the exact spot where my path was split. Let me go it alone. Single. On top of the bills. Freelance clients galore. Comedy gigs by the barrel. It’s all lined up, ready to go.

I’m so fuckin’ excited about you again, life. Thanks for not givin’ up on ol’ Mitcz. I won’t let you down this time.

*hugs*

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I “tweet” a pretty fair amount these days. It’s nice to have a place to just post a random sentence, so if you’re into that sorta thing you can find me @twitter.com/revmitcz.

There’s a funny thing about trying to get out one’s woes, annoyances, stresses and aggressions on a stage when doing comedy. While I used to write lyrics that “cleverly implied” any number of circumstances, and moved on to writing poems (that only I will probably ever read, cause I’d feel douchey posting them), I’ve found ways in the past few years to “hide” my feelings inside of jokes.

Sure, some comics come right out and yell “here’s what’s pissing me off!” – but I tend to find that a bit too personal and too jarring. An established comic.. they might be able to let it slide. They’ve already got my attention. But a local comic trying out his latest “fuck these people” rant? Not so much. It feels too angry. Too personal. Too.. sad. So, I like to phrase things in a way that feels a little more comfortable. Almost to the point that I’m not even talking about myself personally – but just a human condition in general. That’s the idea, though. Give ‘em just enough to relate to it, laugh about it, and move on.

When my mother died last September, I was onstage the next night. The week I returned from her memorial service, I performed again. I even told jokes about it. Not “hah! my mom is dead!” but I was so tired of telling people about what happened and getting blank faces. People don’t know how to respond. And, that’s more uncomfortable to me than telling news about my life. Yeah, my mom died. It was horrible and depressing and I’m still fucked up about it. But.. that’s NOT your problem. You don’t need to feel bad. You didn’t give her cancer. Don’t walk on eggshells around me – I’ll deal. It’s life. We move on. That’s how it works. So, while my jokes that night might not have been obvious – that was the underlying point. Life goes on, not in spite of loved ones dying, but because of it.

(you can catch that bit at around 3:15 in the following video)

Rev. Mitcz Live @ Aura Nightclub (Sept 27th) from Mitcz Marzoni on Vimeo.

I’ve done long rants about women I was dating at the time – sometimes meant as a compliment, other times as a warning. Though I’ve yet to have one pick up on not-so-subtle clues dropped in those bits, it always feels good to let loose what I’m thinking in a way that makes people laugh and secretly understand without having to make anyone wildly uncomfortable. Even those who’ve yelled at me about the bits themselves (and at least figuring out I’m talking about them in particular) somehow never picked up on the actual meaning, and that’s dually depressing and amusing at the same time.

I don’t need to hold back anymore for the sake of anyone in particular, but I still doubt I’ll actually just come out and say exactly what I’m thinking. I’ll find a way to hide it, but still get the point across. Will anyone see the demon hiding behind the smile? I don’t know, and I don’t even particularly care. We’re all fucked up people, and we all have fucked up thoughts. How we choose to either secretly or openly get them out, however, is what makes us individuals.

My point in all of this? Everyone’s hiding something just beneath the surface. Some people let it out, and some just run away lying to themselves about who’s to blame. Find a way to get it out, or doom yourself to the same mistakes ad nauseum while you lose everyone you love.

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Mothers Against Drunk Driving or MADD. They can use catchy slogans like “It’s time to get MADD!”. Hell yeah. Get mad about drunk driving. That’s catchy, and poignant.

But if fathers got in on the action? It would be FADD. And, sure, it rings true. Mostly it’s dumb young douchebags who can’t hold their liquor properly that run about the town drinking and driving — thereby being a fad — but you can’t actually say that!.

Mothers Against Guns or MAG. This kinda works cause of “mag clips” in guns. So, it’s sorta like they’re fighting guns by using gun-lingo. Good call here.

But uhh… fathers getting in on it? That would be FAG. Ignore the angry calls from gay-rights activists, and try not to laugh if their slogan was “Guns don’t make you cool, and they’re exceedingly dangerous in the wrong hands. This message brought to you by a FAG”.

Yeah, that’s not gonna work.

So…. keep up the good work moms!

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Seems a lot of people I know had a shitty 2008. Frankly, can’t even think of many people who’ve said otherwise. But, that’s behind us now, right? Yes. Yes it is.

In the spirit of feeling good, here’s what we (at least we in the U.S.) can look forward to in 2009 :

- No more George Bush!
- No more Dick Cheney!
- A Democrat in the White House! And one that actually makes people feel… HOPE
- Lower gas prices
- An economy on the upturn

Personally, I’ve got a few pretty exciting things happening just in the first week :

- My first comedy showcase (for Comedy Central) this Saturday, Jan 3rd (details here)
- An appearance on TNT’s hit show “Leverage” (details here)
- Finally pulling myself out of debt, thanks to some new clients I’ve secured.

After that, who knows where it’ll go. My only resolution is to keep on keepin’ on. I’ve been keeping myself busy (a little too busy) and I hope to provide some new and exciting entertainment for anyone who cares to watch/see/hear/click it.

So, hey.. Happy Fuckin’ 2009, people. And, please, I mean this sincerely – DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE. If you go out tonight, play it safe. Statistically speaking, we lose 15,000 just in the U.S. alone due to drunk driving accidents. Not cool. I know you think you’ve “got it handled”, but why bother? There’s always a better option. Exercise it, and live to see 2010. When we all get our jet packs. You don’t wanna miss out on that, do you?

*blows a new year horn in your ear, so that little paper roll flaps against your ear drum*

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