The new blog

I'm thinking about starting a new blog. Especially considering that I rarely post anything on this one anymore. The reason I hadn't been posting is that for the last year and a half, I haven't had internet service and so blogging was tough. I have it now...at least until I forget to pay the bill. The point is, my blog lost it's momentum long ago.
So I'm thinking about a new blog.
It's a soap opera.
As anyone who knows me knows, I've got a lot of birds. They all have different personalities. They all have different relationships with each other and with us. It seems like if I also laid on some sort of job or even profession over their actual personalities, you've got some intrigue.
Maybe one of them is the hunk. One's the bitch. One's a manipulator. One's the patriarch that gives advice and acts morally. A couple wild cards.
Now let's drop into the town of Poopcarpet, Illinois.
But wait. Let's don't do it on this blog.
Let's start the Poopcarpet, Illinois blog.
Let the music begin...
The title shot is of the tall, stately "Charlie Mansion" covered with it's black cage cover. The music swells, the cover is removed reveal the blue birdie cel phone and Petey pushed the "I Love You" button.
Now, move over to www.poopcarpet.blogspot.com

My work computer knows my name

So I decided to post another blog today, having not done it in quite some time. Apparently, I've used this computer for this before. Which surprises me. I'm not even supposed to be back here on this computer. This isn't my office or computer. But nobody seems to mind.
I've been training new employees at the trolley company on the tour and driving. I'm hot stuff. I was referred to as "the most important guy in a blue shirt" at the company.
I am. Not just at the company but anywhere. I challenge you to find a more important person with a blue shirt on. Blue shirts generally indicate being unimportant. Did fonzie, Jesus or Walter Payton ever wear a blue shirt? Nope. Only the Royals and the Cubs. And I'm more important than both George Brett and Ryne Sandberg. Ask my mother. She's the one that set my life in the trajectory that landed me in the blue shirt anyway. And she knows how important I am.
Excelsior.

I'm tense

I'm tense. I'm blogging right now even though I know that my wife is next door waiting for me to come back with our G5. We've been working around the apartment and we get on each others nerves. And now she's expecting me back. I feel like Anne Frank in the attic. I hope she doesn't remember where our friend across the hall lives.
Oops there's a knock at the door.
Taking my cyanide pill.
Oops the rifle shot in my mouth only grazed the inside of my head.
Better luck next time.
Ssshh.
She's listening.

I am at work.

And I am working. This is how you work. You work for a little bit of time and then you stop working to blog. But don't forget to get paid. That's the important part. If you can get paid to do nothing and then add to the nothing, something you'd prefer to be doing, then it's like you're getting paid to do something you like doing. So in my mind, I am officially a professional blogger until I finish this blog.
Here's the political rant:

MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT BARACK OBAMA IS THE ANTICHRIST. FURTHERMORE, MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE JOHN MCCAIN IS THE SUPERBUDDHA AND THAT HILLARY CLINTON IS THE EXTRAMOHAMMED. THEREFORE, THE QUESTION IS, WOULD YOU VOTE AGAINST SOMETHING OR FOR SOMETHING AND THE ANSWER IS YES. YES I DO. AND, SADLY, I AM. FOLLOW THAT WILLIAM F. BUCKLEY JR.!

Thank you.

Here's the title.

I've been discussing orthopedic injuries with a friend today. Mine, hers, theirs, yours. Whatever. If it's orthopedic, we're interested. Or we were. Don't try to jump in now with your orthopedic humor. It's too late. We've already moved onto cancer. And in the time I've typed this line we've arrived on the topic of YOU.
How are you?

No.

I mean really. How ARE you? You say you're fine but I see that your eyes are lying. And it makes me want to strangle your eyes. Let me tell you something:

The moment has passed. Maybe later, I'll tell you something.

I went to an orthopedentiatrician today. He helped me save the bones in my children's teeth by feeding them correctly. He also told me that I can either have an operation or wear a brace until I die.

Now, my political thing:

YOU BIG DUMMY. YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART MR. POLOTIC! OH NO. THIS ISN'T MR. POLOTIC? YOU SAY YOUR NAME IS MR. POLITIC? AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE YOU? THAT'S SLICK OL' MR. POLOTIC FOR YOU. ALWAYS TELLING PEOPLE HE'S MR. POLITIC. ANYWAY, HILLARY'S GOT CANKLES. CANKLE '08!!

And I'm out.

Man I hate this auto-save

Chris, talk to me. Do you enjoy this new auto-save feature "they" have put on our blog?

Yes, OUR blog...

I just went through the Old Post Department and deleted at least two posts by yours truly that were no more than two sentences. Incomplete sentences. What bullshit is this?

Anyway, thanks for your text message today, it filled my heart with warmth and semen. Do ya'll want to know what Chrissy Poo Poo Churchill texted me today at 12:35pm?

He wrote "I miss scott mcnulty".

That's ME!

It's true that I normally capitalize the letters S, M, and N, but still...It's the thought that counts.

Some of you reading this probably believe that Churchill is gay now because of this explosive information I am recklessly throwing into the ether, and you would be RIGHT. He is mad gay.

But we don't judge here, we accept and make fun of.

I've been thinking a lot about what great friends I have up there in the windy north, they keep calling me, cell phone-minute-wasting-bastards. Mikey Schmitt vows to visit me in May of this year. Birdhause calls to say things like "I'm a vegetarian, blah blah blah, I believe in Buddha, blah blah blah, SAVE THE OCEANS! blah blah blah."

Yeah, he's not a great conversationalist, but remember, it's the thought baby. The thought.

And now a text "massage" from Crazy Face Churchron. Hell, even Matty Roundhouse Riggs keeps in touch, and I keep touching him. Every chance I get.

You guys are ALLLL-right.

I'm gonna go now. And poop.

I just ate a big Subway sandwich. Goes right through me.

I am fat.

Love,
McNooch

Thinking about funny

I'm listening to an old Howard Stern interview of Robin Williams. Which is strange, because, Howard is always talking about how Robin Williams isn't funny. But apparently, he was funny at least one day...

But this is just one of a long series of old interviews with comedians that they're playing on Howard Sterns Sirius channel.

But this whole week, blogging frequently, seeing and hearing all this comedy on television and radio, has made me wonder lately if my blog is actually a good place to mine material for shows.

Maybe.

I do feel like I'm more relaxed and creative when I'm making nonsense up on the blog. And I have read from my blog on stage and gotten a lot of laughs.
The stream of consciousness I have, is apparently much different than the stream that comes out of Robin Williams. His stream is relatively topical. I'm not even sure that mine is based in this reality. I do tend to escape into weirdness. It's a good ride for me. I hope it works for others.

My therapist suggested to me that, in my childhood solitude, I used my mind to keep myself occupied. She's right. I wrote stories that were extremely derivative of stuff I had just read or seen on television or in the movies. I made my twelve inch action figures wrestle until I made them bleed with red magic markers. It washed off really well. I made my six inch G.I.Joes play football against each other. There were some really heroic catches and runs in my G.I. Joe Bowl games.

Breaker was my favorite, but Gung Ho was pretty cool too. Gung Ho had a shaved head, a big moustache, a sleeveless shirt, and some sort of brimmed hat. He looked just like the leather guy from the Village People on Reserve weekends.

Robin Williams just said his act came from a "sesspool of consciousness". That's better.
So in terms of ratio of jokes made to laughs produced, do we think Robin is on the low end?

Mitch Hedberg made me laugh more than %85 of the time.
Brian Regan, Jim Gaffigan, Todd Barry %80.
Steven Wright used to make me laugh %80-90 of the time but that was the first time you heard the act. Then the percentage would drop quickly.
Cosby, I'm ashamed to say, still makes me laugh but his show is only half jokes anymore. The rest of it is "poignant".
Robin Williams makes me laugh after about %15 of his jokes. But lucky for him, he won't shut up so I laugh almost as much with him as I would with, say, an episode of Good Times.

I, personally, am a little too relaxed to actually create the rapid fire punch line performance that would make me a real "comedian". I found out a while a go that I don't really have that healthy fear of the audience. I'm actually pretty disinterested in them when I'm in front of the mic. That's probably not a good thing. But I'm changing my attitude. I'm going to gather new material. And I'm going to do it as honestly and as much like "myself" as I can.