Two Karma Garage

Where did I go wrong?

I realize that's too broad. Maybe I should pick a decade. I was gonna be a disc jockey. I was gonna be a comedian. I was gonna do stuff. I did stuff. It wasn't the right stuff.

Once you decide on a goal, you have to focus all your energy on that goal and not turn from the path. It's called determination.

I've got a goal. It's to make people laugh. Not at my bank balance. At my humor. I have given up the notion I have to be somewhere at any specific time in my life. I am here and that's just where I'm supposed to be.

I was going to try to be one with everything, but there just isn't enough space in my room. Not enough room to swing a cat, which is just as well. He makes funny noises when I do that and I don't think he's particularly happy about the whole idea.

I think instead I shall become two with everything. That way I'll have a backup just in case everything isn't all it's cracked up to be. After all, I have been one with bankruptcy and divorce and toenail fungus and that wasn't cool. That was what it was, and was sucked.

I am trying to get on with this whole "it is what is" thing, but that sounds fatalistic to me, as if we can't change anything except our underpants. And really, if you're next to some guy who reeks to the heavens, are you going to be happy if he tells you "it is what it is"? Should that term even apply to stinky Fruit of the Looms? No no say I. Go forth and render your undergarments socially acceptable forthwith.

Thing is, you get exactly what you are prepared to accept. I do not choose to accept skid marks.


Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Heavenly Shades of Night

I guess I have been around a while. Someone at work mentioned I am now entering the twilight years. I mulled that one over a bit and it really didn't seem that bad.

Then it hit me. This is what I have to look forward to? After years of being funny like a clown, I am going to be reduced to spending the "good" years like this?

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I think I just wet myself. What? That too?

Nooooooooooooooooo!


Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

The Moving Finger

Who would have thought time alone to do whatever I wish would result in doing too much of whatever I wish. As Janis Joplin once said, "Where the hell's my Southern Comfort?"

Or even more appropriately, "Freedom's just another word for 'dem ol' cosmic blues mama". I can utterly relate. Sometimes that's the problem with thinking. It leads me where I have no business going. Like the cooking section of Barnes & Noble, or any kitchen store, or indeed anyplace that has to do with food except grocers and restaurants.

I don't cook. I don't hunt. I don't camp. 200 years ago, I'd've been dead. Or the founder of Safeway.

When I think, which is quite frequently, I must always be sure to put my mind on the proper things or I will end up blowing three days like I just did. In addition to performing comedy, I also write it, although you probably can't tell from this blog. Like every comedian will tell you, it is of the utmost importance to keep a notebook and write things down constantly, before you forget them. It does no good whatsoever to write them down after you forget them, unless you're James Patterson.

I do write things down, sometimes even before I have an idea, which is why I ended up doing 6 minutes on my shopping list last time I took the stage. The problem I have is organizing them in a coherent manner so that my monologues make a direct path from funny bit to funny bit, rather than from "Huh?" to "lol", which expression is very hard to make work verbally. It usually means my audience is texting during my act, something I find lots more distracting than the schmoes who do that during a movie.

A few years ago, I did a routine for a bloggers convention and they didn't laugh once. They just flashed "lol" on the screen behind me with PowerPoint. I had to keep turning around to find out how I was doing. I think they were "lol"ing behind my back.


Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

It's Only Words

All right, so I read a tweet from this activist and curious, I followed the link:

http://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2012/01/20/the-daily-barrage-of-insults/

I do not always claim to be right. I most usually try not to offend. She made some valid points, but when I tried to start a discussion, she began at snarky and quickly slid right into intolerant and narrow-minded, which I suppose I should have expected from an activist. I should have known better.

Here's part of the last comment I made:

"I think calm, rational discussion is necessary and healthy."


Then she banned me, and you irony fans might get a kick out of the "Stop Censorship" banner on the upper right of her page.



Yep, I could see how women might get offended at the words "bitch" and "pussy". I am not oblivious. But really? To get so upset you bang your head on the desk and want everyone to change the way they speak? How about not allowing people like that into your world and raising your children not to use the words instead of demanding the world conform to your way of thinking?

Nah. Too simple I suppose. Let's take a look at some choice words.

Pussy


Bitch


Dick


Prick


Macho Asshole


Cunt


Dickwad

Ofensive? To some folks, sure, and to a whole bunch more folks when used as insults. But you know what? If you read the list you'll notice it's not just women who have to put up with the epithets, but guys too. Does our activist consider that? Nope. It's all about the girls.

I get that. I've been all about girls for years now.

Where I got a little miffed was when I saw yet another "oppressed" group was going to start whining about getting their feelings hurt. Really? Women oppressed? I don't know about you, but all the women in my life are some of the most powerful people I know. Strong, intelligent and quite able to tell me when I get too mouthy and offend them. Great! See how easy that was, and they didn't need an activist forming a coalition to storm the internet and dictionary authors and word police to let me know. I got it the first time.

Moms with daughters? Here's what ya do: "Sweetie, I'm so sorry that bully called you a bitch, but you are much more powerful than a simple word and you know you are loved. Now go kick that prick's ass!"

I have watched our right to say what we want erode over the years and I am getting pretty tired of it. I believe anyone has the right to protest, and certainly racial and sexual slurs are unwelcome and wrong. But we all have the right to say them, because for now this is still a free country. You may not like what is said, that's your privilege and right, just as it is my privilege and right to say it.

You also have the right to not listen, because for now this is still a free country. Narrow-mindedness and intolerance on either side is wrong. Sorry about not being very funny today. For the lighter side of this issue, go visit my buddy Suzy.

http://wherehotcomestodie.blogspot.com/


Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Search Me

You know how entertainers are supposed to understand their audience and when they do they make that special connection and just get funnier?

I think I know why I usually feel disconnected. I viewed my stats page to see what search terms were popular and well, I don't understand you people. At all.


Search Keywords 

clown fish 
evil oprah 
 handcuffs sex 
 computer geek 
 hilarious granny and cars 
 furrows 
 girlfriends belly button 
 girls handcuffed porn


And yes, I cannot left justify. So sue me. You have bigger issues. Explain to me why you come here for "evil Oprah"? All right, so there is some need to stop her, but you think you'll find "Oprah be gone" tips here? "Clown fish" I sort of get, I am something of a clown, but "fish" just leaves me more puzzled than usual. I completely grok the "computer geek" thing. At least the "geek" part, but "girls handcuffed porn"?

It's like you're reading my mind. As Keanu Reeves would say, "Hi. I'm Keanu Reeves."

Then we see "hilarious granny and cars". Not only do I not own a car, I don't even have a granny. Oh I had some granny glasses once in the '60's, but I highly (see what I did there?) doubt any of you would be Googling for those and ending up here.

No, I don't get those terms. They're not what's really bugging me though. The search term I am totally freaked out about, the one that leaves me scratching my scrotum and plucking "Dueling Banjos" on my nose hairs is "furrows". I am not a farmer, in fact farmers sorta scare me. I don't like plows. I have never made a furrow in my life, and I'm not 100% sure why I would want to. But what truly disturbs me is that some of you out there think I play in the dirt.

Let me assure you, those sites just came up by accident when I did a Google search for "breasts". And I was doing research for a friend of mine.

Really.

Dumb and Assier

The bad news is I'm snowed in and have missed two days of work

The good news is I haven't heard anyone ask, "Cold enough fer ya?"

Not even on Facebook, probably because I downloaded the "block all comments from dumbasses" app.

I knew it was going to be that kind of week when I arrived at the bus stop Tuesday morning and looked down the hill to see my bus in the ditch. That's usually a sign you should buy a snowmobile. Or move someplace where it doesn't snow, then buy a snowmobile just to show you're a rebel. Of course that wouldn't work for me because of the whole  blocked dumbass app thing. Apparently it works in real life as well, because I haven't had any stupid customer incidents in a couple weeks, and no one at Starbucks has screwed up my order and my cat hasn't dumped any presents in the litter box at 2 AM lately.

Truthfully I'm a little worried about that last bit, but I have searched everywhere in the room and no nuggets are to be found. Maybe the whole blocked dumbasses thing is a bit too broad. Perhaps the Universe is deleting the dumb and just blocking asses, including my cat's. He does look a bit bloated.

Is there a Metamucil app?



Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Enhanced Fantasies

 My blog is all about my life.


I tried blogging about other people's lives, but I always got facts wrong and a couple folks emailed me and told me nothing like that had ever happened to them. Also they were African-American women, so my tales apparently had no basis in reality whatsoever.

Sorry Oprah and Beyoncé.*


 (Side note: can someone please tell me how to get that little accent mark over the "e"?)

Nor have I ever had any basis in reality. I am okay with that. I don't think reality is for sissies anyway which is pretty much why I have avoided it lo these 50+ years. I am pretty much a sissy. For those who are interested, I offer tips on avoiding anything real in your life. The cost is $50 for a pamphlet mailed to you in a discreet psychedelic orange and purple Peter Max inspired envelope.

I had some help in achieving alternate existence a few decades ago obviously. But I can assure you my methods are chemical free today.

Wait....is vodka a chemical?

Holy crap! I just noticed there's snow all over the ground outside. I effin' hate snow. Dammit! How did the real world get into my head?  What's that mantra again???

Peace and illusion ohmmmmmm
Peace and illusion ohmmmmmm
Peace and unconsciousness ohmmmmmm

 What the hell kind of name is Blue Ivy for a baby?

Okay. So my methods aren't 100% sometimes. I can assure you my grasp on reality is tenuous at best, despite my occasional wakened states and that feeling I must "be here now". Trust me, I don't have to be anywhere now. Or ever.




*Thanks!


Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle