Blade Runner

Occupy Wall Street finally is making a list of demands.  No demands, no results; no threats, no demands met.  They ordered some guillotines.  Like in the French revolution.   Take care of the 1% that owns everything.  But these are better.  Gillette Fusion Proglide guillotines.  They feature a lubricated strip for comfort   The first 5 blades pull the head out just a little, so the sixth blade can cut through cleanly, without leaving any embarrassing neck stubble.  The head will look its best when mounted on a wall or being paraded around the city on a pike. (And, by the way, by "pike" I mean a long spear; not a fish.  Carrying the head around the city on a fish would send entirely the wrong message.)  The machines will be free, of course.  Just like with razors, the money's in the blades.

Time for you to Leave

My existential nihilistic pro-suicide blog is well-written, but not everyone's cup of hemlock.  

Bunjo's, Oct 14, 2011

This is as close as I can remember to the set I did at Bunjo's Comedy Club in Dublin, Ca. on Oct 14, 2011.  There were, of course, a few riffs on other comics in the beginning, but this was the set I'd planned and this was the set I delivered.

I'm getting better at sticking to the plan.  And my timing, specifically waiting for the audience to have time to laugh, was better, too.

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I *am* the youngest, thinnest, best looking comic here tonight. (I checked)
Did you have the magic mushroom chicken?
No? Oh, in that case I'm hella fat, hella ugly and hella old.
I'm too old to say hella. There's an age limit.  [hand gesture]
You must be at least this young to say hella.
How old?  When I was a boy, I went to a one-cave schoolhouse.
How old? Back when I started using computers, we would hunt the
mastodon then use the tusks to punch IBM cards.  That old.

When I was a boy, my father beat me with a leather strap.  No, that isn't the funny part.  Here's a reference you might not get.  Did you see the Shawshank Redemption?  Good film.

The day after his funeral, I went back to the cemetery and danced on his grave.  Then I changed my name.  My mom knew when she died, I'd want to dance on her grave, too, but she wouldn't give me the satisfaction.  She left instructions to have herself cremated.  She knew you can't dance on an urn.  Believe me, I tried.  I knocked it over.  Then I had to vacuum her up.

Just an aside.  They had a trainee grief counselor working at the crematorium.  I asked if he was there on an "urn while you learn" program.  His face turned, for want of a better word, ashen.

You may have seen the TV ads.  Coming to San Francisco
a troupe of masturbating French acrobats, circle jerk du soleil.

Speaking of France,
When Occupy Wall Street stops being non-violent, they'll
order 10,000 Gillette brand Trac-II guillotines.  The
first blade will pull the head out just a little, so the second
blade can cut through cleanly, without leaving any
embarrassing neck stubble.  The aristocrat's head will look
its best when mounted, either on a wall or on a pike.  The
machines will be free, of course.  Gillette knows the money's
in the blades.

show at museum all summer in g g park.   this is a field trip report.
In the deserts of the southwest the gila monster is
a sluggish, poisonous lizard you have to practically
step on to get it to bite you.  but once it does it holds
on.  it doesn't have fangs, it doesn't strike like a snake,
it chews the venom into you.  And here's one thing most
people don't know.  Even if you cut off its head, the
nervous system will keep it biting.  It will chew poison into
you even after it's *dead*.  Let's talk about my mom.

George Carlin, The American Dream