| Friday, September 30, 2005 |
17:02 - Psychotic Episodes
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There's another kind of blogging out there. One that's rarer and more finely distilled than the usual stuff I tend to be used to these days. It's the rehearsed, episodic, often-daily but usually-sporadic sites that consist of story after story after story, often not-work-safe, usually hysterically funny.
Some consist of anecdotes of tribulation. Others (and this is a crucial distinction) are diaries in hell. Some are even entirely fictional and animated, which just increases the awe in which the purported veracity of the rest must be held.
But one thing that most such sites hosted by budding stand-up comedians have in common is that if they let their politics show through, it's never along the same lines as this:
They respond with lots of fancy, meaningless words like "exploitation" and "commodification." They also tell me I need to read Catherine MacKinnon, some Andrea Dworkin, and perhaps even some Michel Foucault. Those names set off a bomb in the bar.
I had tried for a good ten minutes to let it go, but with Red Bull and vodka coursing through my veins, and the names of the anti-christs being thrown around so flippantly, I let loose. Absolutely unleashed. I eventually start throwing out words like "fascist" and "not content to let people live their own lives" and "if you don't like stumpy people hitting each other, don't go see it" and "these are theories that only sound good or important to upper-middle-class-usually-white-people who feel guilty about their status, and have taken enough benefits out of capitalism that they have the luxury of enough leisure time to actually think about this crap and go to $35K/year schools to learn it.”
That's Tucker Max, and it's about as Safe For Work as it gets. It's lewd, it's crude, it's bound to horrify—but at a time when I'm starting to wonder if there's any such thing in the world as an articulate and intellectual comic genius storyteller (well, aside from this one) who revels in ridiculing "No Blood for Oil" buttons rather than in wearing them, I'm scooping this up like manna.
Also it's funny enough to make me gasp for breath while nearby people look at me funny.
The stories appear to be in reverse chronological order, so start at the bottom and work your way up. But read the "Classics" at the top first.
Why won't they give this guy a spot on Comedy Central? ...Aside from the two or three obvious reasons, I mean? He'd be like the Evil Dave Attell.
UPDATE: Nobody's good stories should go unlinked.
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Brian Tiemann
