Kevin Marshall's America
Jesus Christ.
Sup bro,
As of right now, you’re reading an email women NEVER want you to get.
Why, you ask?
This one trick turns women absolutely under your control – and you and I both know chicks like to think they’re in control, so the trick I’m about to share CANNOT be shown to any chick you aren’t using it on. You must promise to keep this secret.
I’m dead serious, it doesn’t matter if you’re fat or ugly, what amounts you make or even how uncertain you may be around chicks today. Confidence that’s dripping with sex is literally a simple mind trick away.
This video will explain the trick in detail:
[omitted]
Learn this 1-step skill – and you’ll never have to sleep alone again. Don’t screw up your chance!
“Bro, I hope I never have to sleep alone again.” – A bro to another bro at a bar where the DJ is Pauly D from “Jersey Shore.”
I don’t know about emails women never want me to get, but I know the email I never want to get has the salutation “Sup bro”.
I appeared on this week’s PipeDream on the Comedy Pipe Network.
We discuss comedy, and Leno, and Mittens, and a lot of other stuff, then someone mentions wrestling and it gets crazy up in this bitch.
I come in around the 35 minute mark or so (I’m too lazy to actually check). But give the whole thing a listen, will ya?
I didn’t end up doing comedy on Friday night. FROWNY FACE! Ethan and I were supposed to drive in, but his car was in the shop. So he borrowed his father’s car, which then would not start. Then we got a friend’s car, but it exploded. Then we got a chariot, but while we were rounding a corner we were rammed by another charioteer who shredded our wheels with a metal spoke. Then we tried to ride the horses, but they died.
Okay, those last few aren’t true, but the car troubles? Absolutely what happened. I was bummed; I haven’t been onstage in what feels like a fortnight, especially since I’ve been busy with Spike stuff. Plus, it’s pretty quiet in August with students not around and the state legislature not in session, meaning that for some shows, essentially (if not more) of any potential audience isn’t even in town.
LE. SIGH.
Bottom line is I eventually need to move out of this area. I’ve been saying and meaning it for years. There’s family and friends and an elderly cat keeping me here, but if the money’s good and the health is okay, I’m gone. I have to. You can’t be what you want to be in comedy and stay in this area. It’s not a knock; what’s true here is true for 95% of the country.
On an unrelated note (OR IS IT), here are some Strange Dreams of Late. I can’t wait for you all to play amateur psychologist! I say that half-jokingly, but full-cynically.
1. Won an election, promptly forgot
I had a dream that I was sitting at home and had a knock on my door, and it was an angry neighbor asking why I wasn’t at the council chambers for an important vote. Then I remembered, oh shit, I was elected last November to the Troy City Council and completely forgot about it! I plead ignorance and said that nobody told me and never contacted me, so I assumed they’d changed their minds. I sifted through my mail, thenfound an unopened letter from them under my bed. ‘Well, shit,’ said dream self. I then announced to my roommate that my life was over.
2. My trip to NYC; upset my sister, disowned by father
I went on a trip to NYC and ended up staying with my sister who doesn’t even live down there, but did in my dream. Except I didn’t tell her, I just walked in and went to sleep. Apparently this caused a humongous argument and falling out with her roommate. So I left and realized that somewhere between leaving the apartment and being on the street I had lost my wallet and my shoes. As a result, I wandered aimlessly around a narrow version of Manhattan filled with nothing but brownstones, trying desperately to befriend any and all passerbys but getting nothing in return except blank expressions.
I walked by an open door where I saw a family moving heavy furniture up the stairs. I leaned in, asking if they needed help, and they politely declined. On my way out, I noticed a stack of hundred dollar bills shoved into the area between the door and the jamb with a note that read “you really shouldn’t leave hundreds lying out like this.” I stole the money and justified it morally by telling myself that since it had obviously been money they had already dropped or lost, they wouldn’t notice if it was missing again, while swearing to myself that one day I would make it right. I said goodbye to them as I left.
With the money, I walked past several clothing stores, but waited a few blocks so as not to arouse suspicion. I got to the store. With arms full of clothes, I approached the register and reached for the hundreds. But all I pulled out were blank, thick sheets of paper. I remember feeling robbed, again.
Then I found my wallet. No money in it, but all my credit cards and Drivers License were present. This also led to me somehow getting shoes back on my feet.
3. Outrunning trains, running by trains, going down slopes, jumping into trains
I was being trained in downhill skiing, which somehow led to the hobby of what they called train running. It’s where you run on tracks with a train behind you, trying to get to the next stop and/or off the tracks before the train catches you. I did this several times, all in winter, and always with body parts of others flying everywhere around me. It wasn’t a horrifying sight, though. It was cartoonish, like an old arcade video game that made you feel dangerous to play as a child and foolish to play as an adult.
At one point I had to transfer from one train to another by way of a subway transfer. I somehow managed to jump through a crack in the ground and land perfectly inside of a moving A train.
I told my downhill skiing coach about my adventure afterwards. He was very impressed, and said I was a deserving champion.
So this new law they have where they require drug testing for welfare? Turns out that it costs the state more money than it saves and hasn’t curbed applicants.
Anyone with a modicum of sense could have looked at this proposal and told you that.
Note: I actually had this post sitting in drafts, but with the RNC going on figured now would be a good time to share it. Particularly with that We Built It nonsense. I’m wondering if we can feign outrage at other claims that were never made? “Hey, Obama! You didn’t create that rainbow, it was the reflection of water droplets! #ScienceDidIt”
HAHAHA! Oh my God, you must watch this video of the woman who took it upon herself to restore a classic painting of Christ and transformed it into an internet meme.
I know I’m late to the game with my analysis of this, but…I kinda think it’s art now.
Before, it was yet another dull, lifeless representation of Jesus that was technically sound but whose lack of expression and passion betrayed the stakes of what the artist was trying to portray. It’s Jesus with a crown of thorns, presumably at or near the time of his death, during or shortly after vicious torture at the hands of his tormentors. Yet his expression portrays none of this, and instead looks like he’s trying to decide if it’s worth it to buy the entire tin of Cat Cookies for Peoples from Trader Joe’s if he’s not even going to be in town next week.
Now, after the botched restoration, it has new life. It has become an allegory for so many things that are deeply prevalent in our culture. The first being the propensity of ignorant amateurs to take it upon themselves to execute tasks that require mastery and skill far beyond their reach; a reckless arrogance that has brought us everything from ruined Renaissance paintings to Ted Talks.
The second, more obvious allegory is to religion itself. It is a thing, after all, that gets represented, embraced, and executed in very strange ways. You have to admit that even the original piece was yet another example of the strange fascination with and fetishization of suffering that has been so rampant in religious art throughout the centuries. Then, in a panic, it is transformed into this ghastly thing by an anxious parishioner who could not stand the thought of it changing and, subsequently, transformed it into something unrecognizable to suit her own ends.
It is art, folks. It is more art than most anyone else who ever tries at it can ever hope.
They should never fix it. It means more now than it ever did before.
10th paragraph: http://vitals.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/26/13489038-neil-armstrong-an-uncommon-man-with-a-commonly-deadly-disease?lite
The screen capture just in case someone finally fixes it (, for fuck’s sake):
He was far from normal, though common as A KILLER.
And when news first broke of Armstrong’s death, they had “Neil Young” in the headline instead.
So, uh, is there any level of NBC that doesn’t screw things up spectacularly?
Edit: yes, obviously, we all know what the author meant to say was that coronary disease is a common killer. That’s the point, was that it was such an egregious oversight that still got through and still hasn’t been fixed.
There’s just times where I feel like comedy doesn’t like me.
Well, okay, there’s times where I feel like people in general don’t like me. A lot of that is probably residual self-loathing and leftover chubby kid insecurity, because I am told otherwise without provocation at certain performances. Not all – not the ones where I don’t feel great about what I’ve done so I’ll duck out. But most. I don’t go fishing for compliments, so that when I do get them, I feel it’s genuine.
Which is probably a weird thing for a comedian to say. After all, isn’t trying to make people laugh just a way to get the approval of strangers? Isn’t that a strange, vampiric and dependent relationship one develops with the audience? I suppose it can be. But honestly, I don’t care about people laughing, I care about being funny, if that makes any sense. Like, I’ve felt better about shows where the laughter was more reserved than ones where it was loud and boisterous.
I don’t know, because I’m fucking weird, okay?
Anyway, I’m performing tonight at The Mine (388 Broadway, Saratoga Springs NY) as part of a gaggle of local comics starting at 8pm. Good friend and good comedian Ethan Ullman (host of Alternative to Sleeping) is hosting. So come check it out. There’ll be a lot of new material, I think some of it incendiary depending on the make-up of the crowd.
Also, did I mention I’ve taken over the Tumblr account for Spike TV? I think I mentioned it over on the MMA blog, not sure if I did here or not. Either way, follow it and my work for the Tumblr for All Access Weekly.
(from this week’s “Breaking Bad.” Hold off if you aren’t caught up.)
I have a real love/hate relationship with the people that populate Troy events. There’s a guy playing baroque guitar at Market Block Books. And I’m like “cool, let me check that out!” Except some soft-voiced older white dude is chatting up the guitarist in spite of all the other people around that are like ‘hey, let’s hear some music.’ Like, guy, I know you walk around like you’re the host of an NPR show inside of your head, but can you stop with the inane line of questioning so musicians can ply their wares and especially so the rest of us can hear it?
That happens when I’m doing comedy, too. These people aren’t “ill intentioned,” so to speak, but they carry themselves and act as if each and every performance is a conversation just for them. Get out of your own head, develop a sense of self-awareness, and shut the fuck up.
Drives me goddamn nuts.
STALK ME
