No Charm in the Trouser Snake
THE REQUEST:
Just once I'd like to perform at a show where not one single comic makes a blow job joke. There exists infinite fodder for material in this marvelous, wide wide world that has nothing to do with some chick's mouth on some dude's dick.
ADMONISHMENT BY A LESBO:
For the blow job jokers out there: It's all been done! There is no new blow job territory to mine. That monkey has been spanked...to death. No bit that revolves around 3rd base will ever be cutting edge. At the risk of sullying all puns forever, blow job material sucks.
THINK OF THE CHILDREN:
Must innocent, trusting audiences be subjected to each and every detailed nuance of 2 or 3 keg-induced college hummers? (Ah, the good ol' days when your body was thin, not your hair.) I'm no Freud, but there is some weird Oedipal shit going on if a guy invites crowds to laugh at the fact that he once got his helmet buffed. "And one time, at band camp..."
WHAT A PREACHY BITCH:
Mine is not a clean act, so my intent here is not to hurl any stones or judge someone's glass house or whatever adage I'm "blowing" right now. It's just that I happen to really like what I do. The best part of this whole comedian schtick--other than all the pussy I get--are the other comedians. It's constant on the job training with these folks. I'm frequently awed by my chuckle-hunting brethren. To learn how to be a better stand-up, I want to surround myself with funny. Exciting funny, thoughtful funny, ridiculous funny, clever funny, even mind bogglingly perverted funny. NOT, I repeat, NOT EVER blow job funny.
THE CHALLENGE:
Give it up, bitches! No more zingers about who zoomed your zipper lizard.
EPIPHANY:
Woah. I feel the same about blow jobs on stage as I do off. If asked, I'd characterize my sentiment as 360 degrees of satellite disinterest.
posted by Shannon E. Ennis at
Monday, May 09, 2005
Just once I'd like to perform at a show where not one single comic makes a blow job joke. There exists infinite fodder for material in this marvelous, wide wide world that has nothing to do with some chick's mouth on some dude's dick.
ADMONISHMENT BY A LESBO:
For the blow job jokers out there: It's all been done! There is no new blow job territory to mine. That monkey has been spanked...to death. No bit that revolves around 3rd base will ever be cutting edge. At the risk of sullying all puns forever, blow job material sucks.
THINK OF THE CHILDREN:
Must innocent, trusting audiences be subjected to each and every detailed nuance of 2 or 3 keg-induced college hummers? (Ah, the good ol' days when your body was thin, not your hair.) I'm no Freud, but there is some weird Oedipal shit going on if a guy invites crowds to laugh at the fact that he once got his helmet buffed. "And one time, at band camp..."
WHAT A PREACHY BITCH:
Mine is not a clean act, so my intent here is not to hurl any stones or judge someone's glass house or whatever adage I'm "blowing" right now. It's just that I happen to really like what I do. The best part of this whole comedian schtick--other than all the pussy I get--are the other comedians. It's constant on the job training with these folks. I'm frequently awed by my chuckle-hunting brethren. To learn how to be a better stand-up, I want to surround myself with funny. Exciting funny, thoughtful funny, ridiculous funny, clever funny, even mind bogglingly perverted funny. NOT, I repeat, NOT EVER blow job funny.
THE CHALLENGE:
Give it up, bitches! No more zingers about who zoomed your zipper lizard.
EPIPHANY:
Woah. I feel the same about blow jobs on stage as I do off. If asked, I'd characterize my sentiment as 360 degrees of satellite disinterest.
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