Day Dreaming of Stand-up

A bad taste in my mouth. Comfy chair. Warm. Someone just left. Colder than expected outside. There’s a table I can put my legs on though…Tired…Nobody’ll mind if I uh… Nice comfy head rest uhh...

A large theater. All the seats are filled. People talk over beers, across tables. The lights dim and they applaud the opening curtains. Fuckin’ spotlight.

 [Walk on stage] Thank you, thank you. [Bow] Thank you.

 Yeah, so it’s strange living in Humboldt County (Man in crowd: Yeeeeahh wooo) [point] That dude knows what I’m talking about. On the one hand Arcata, Where HSU is, and to some extent Eureka, are like any other city in California. There’s just a lot more pot  (Audience chuckle of appreciation, anticipation building) On the other hand, when you get out of Arcata or Eureka you start getting weird combinations cause there’s kind of a bunch of… nothing (anticipation building)…with some people growing pot (small laugh)... you wander too far and you’re in like.. Deliverance territory… if those guys from Deliverance were growing pot (hahaha!) Its funny cause in the media it's always [news anchor voice] “oh, you smoke pot, you must be… like liberal… or… counter culture… a hippie or… or like …one of them uppity minorities” or somethin (Audience chuckles with righteous indignation).

And in Arcata this kinda has a backwards effect. You get to Arcata… and you begin to think Bob Marley’s real name was Bradley Spalding Wilkinson and was a middle class white kid with a future in hedge funds, and instead of talking about “jam rock”  everyone was trying to “get back to Plymouth Rock!”[in Jamaican accent](hahaha!)

[Pause as laughs trickle out]…But outside Arcata its nuts… There’s a chapter of the Klan in this town McKinleyville (booo…)…the Ku Klux Klan… they call it McKlanleyville (audience small, in-the-know, laugh) And there are enough people to make up a chapter! Which seems counterintuitive in Humboldt County cause Pot and White supremacy seem mutually exclusive… like White supremacists are supposed to be…angry retired Teamsters or uhh… Small town Sheriffs (laugh of recognition)… or BART Police or something…you know someone with a lot of excess energy and an inferiority complex (decent size laugh)… but they’re not! At least not all of them…Their names are Bradley Spalding Wilkinson and they smoke pot and listen to Kenney Chesney and get super fucking racist! (Large laugh) And it doesn’t make any sense! You’d think they would get stoned and lose interest… imagine, you know, get exhausted… like

“ahh man, where’d you get these Gummy Bears? [pleasure sigh] I’ve never tasted anything like them”

“Ahh yeah Bro and their totally white… they’re from Germany!”

“Oh thank god, I was afraid…I was like Bro, with a name like Haribo… they better not be Japanese… (slurred) comin’ over the border n bein like “wassup Dawg I’m the president” (small laugh)

[looks at Steve] “Ah Steve, Dammit, you got it all wrong it’s the Mexicans that’re comin over the border, Barak Obama is an African, and the Japanese make them Computers for to spy on us with.” (growing laughter)

“What? You goin all Lesbian on me? Like you some big hot shot workin at the HSU, tellin me I needa stop driving my truck n’ worry about the environment?” [Steve takes hit of joint] (large laughter)

[after extended pause the laughter, character looks at Steve, shakes head]“Steve, now, it’s the Lesbians that want the Birth control, and it’s the communists that work at the HSU, tellin you to stop drivin’ your truck”

“Shut up, I knowd what a Communist is n yous a communist.. Hows your wife goin a feel knowin yous a communist? Can’t raise a family on being a Communist! (exhails) Too much Dick! That’s too many Dicks for growin up.[Steve looks at friend] Whut? Thas Wrong?... Fuck it..this shit is hard, I can’t keep it straight… Im goina play some video games…” (large laugh, applause)

[Continue after pause] Anyway, So I was an English Major at Humboldt which implies two things… One, I’m a dumb ass for choosing the school farthest away from any possible career in writing (small laugh), and Two: That I really, really like being an awful goddamn hipster (large laughs, applause)…which I do[say over laughs]… I went to school to do that; its what my degree is in: taking things that people like and talking about them ad nauseum with some strange jargon until you wanna punch me in the face, and you’d hate whatever it was we were talking about if you could even remember it (laugh of appreciation).

Being an English Major was interesting because every class is like a narcissist support group (laugh of anticipation). Every day we’d come in having read something that nobody in their right mind has any business reading—like some absurdly pedantic treatise on how we can tell that Ernest Hemmingway had a secret vagina because of the way he used a comma (laugh of recognition, applause). Then we talk about it as if anyone who didn’t know about Ernest Hemmingway’s secret vagina is an illiterate sexist facist and secretly everyone in the room is talking to themselves, going “you’re all illiterate sexist facists!” (large laugh). Then you go home and plot your next essay: an even more absurdly pedantic essay on how, secretly, hidden within Ernest Hemmingway’s secret vagina, is another! Even more secret vagina! (large laugh and applause).

(Heckler: “I bet you do have a VAGINA BRO!”) Alright sir, calm down, don’t strain yourself thinking about a better insult, being stupid puts a lot of stress on the body and you need to use everything you’ve got to figure out how to get your lady friend there drunk enough to not notice how small your penis is. (Laughs, applause, whistles and hoots. “You told him,” someone yells.)

Anyway, continuing with what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I don’t wanna knock feminism [laugh, look like I’m thinking about it, get serious] I DO NOT WANT TO KNOCK FEMINISM… (chuckle) I did that once… I had a girlfriend at the time… she crawled up my ass so far… by the end of it my balls were all deconstructed, my dick was signifying all over the place and I couldn’t discourse straight for weeks, you know… she did, she ripped me a secret vagina (small laugh some applause)… We broke up a while ago…she said she “couldn’t be with somebody who has so much hostility toward women”... whatever that means…ha…Technology has really murdered the modern relationship.

The entire time I was with her I kept thinking “man, it would be awesome to never have to comment on another fucking picture or send another fucking text message again” (laughing, nodding, elbow prodding). I had a recurring awesome dream from which I would wake up happier than you would believe: I was an English Nobleman in the Nineteenth century and I was writing a letter to my girlfriend that went something like this, “Dearest Virginia, (laughter) [pause for laughter] I regret to inform you that I have fallen ill and must resist the urge, though it be great, to see you for at least a fort night as I will undoubtedly be contagious…” and I never made it to the end because I started giggling uncontrollably and shouting “I’m free! I’m free! Muahaha! There’s so much time now!” (small laugh) Time for what, I am not exactly sure because it is the nineteenth century, (small laugh) but it could never end the way that would today. Back then, the angry girlfriend with a car was nonexistent and (expectant chuckle) Traveling was much more of an ordeal and there were no assholes named Tim to tag you as “@Golfland kicking ass at Time Crisis.” (chuckle of recognition) Therefore there could be no such response as “what kind of cryptic bull shit is this! I will come see you,” (large laugh of recognition) [say over laughter] and the 4 hour long conversation would thus be circumvented and I could avoid being called a chauvinist.

I’m not saying sexism isn’t bad though, you know… like fashion… “the shaving of the vagina” I think is the great untapped resource of comedy… it can’t always be a fun sexy process… although I’m sure it often is because the internets have assured me of this… sometimes it’s just gotta be a hassel… like standing over a mirror trying to position yourself just right, gotta get in there with the [make awkward motion]… its gotta be a chore… I dunno.. (ha) On the list of things to do today: “laundry, go to the bank, do the dishes, shave my vagina…” well, I don’t know… maybe it makes people happy… Maybe there’s something else to the shaved vagina fetish… ha, like being civilized… one of the corner stones of our American Civilization: “Freedom, Liberty, Shaved VA-GI-NA [sweeping hand gesture, straighten posture].” I guess men shave their balls too… I had a friend who said he shaved everything for swimming…Is that the idea? I think I like that idea for America… “most aerodynamic country in the world!” (laughs) That’s why we’re the best… That’s what the rest of the world wants… fuck self-determination, they want our Zippy sex [hand gesture to show how zippy].

I’ve never been out of the country though, and I feel like I’m missing out. Not on seeing shit. Fuck that. I can see plenty of shit here. But everyone who goes abroad always says what an eye opening experience it is. They always say how it “totally changed the way they look at Americans…” I want that! I’m way too used to us. I never really feel surprised at our stupid shit—like that school in Montana firing a whole bunch of Counselors and buying a whole bunch of guns, or Taylor Swift, or the Blue Collar Comedy Tour (laughter of appreciation). I feel like going out of the country would let me see it on a whole new level of stupid—I’m being held back(expectant laughter)[pause for effect]: my snobby cynicism could be so much more developed than it is: I coulda been a contender: I needa go to France. I mean I’ve got all the makings of greatness: I worked at Starbucks, I was born in the Bay Area, I was an English Major…Shit I went to Humboldt State University! (laughter of recognition) How much more fart sniffing Al Gore ass-licking can I get! I need this! The French are to snobs what Kenyans are to Marathons! They’re the greatest! (big laughs all around) Thank you! Goodnight! [bow, put the microphone back on the stand. Walk off stage].  

“Sir,” a voice in the dark, “Sir.”

“Yessss...."
"Sir"
"Huh, huh, What?” It’s brighter than it should be backstage.

“Your Balls are hanging out of your shorts.”

A cool breeze, “Uh, huh, hmm.” 
The exit is sixteen long steps across spongy gray carpet. (Applause).