A Response to Junk Mail: Cougar on the Prowl

Hi Steve, how re you doing? my name is Shelsa.. im single with three kids.. i am a fun loving woman..i ve been single for 3 years now looking for a honest man to have a serious relationship and more..i like your profile and i would like to get to know u better if you don't mind...you contact me on here or email me on rshelsa@yahoo.com .. i hope to hear from you very soon..
..
Shelsa.. 



Three kids huh? You've really got to learn a thing or two about salesmanship.

Good luck out there,
-Steve

Awesome Video of Guy Asking White People if They're Illegal Canadian Immigrants -- Complete With Black-Eyed Hillbilly Threatening to Hit People

Reposted from the Phoenix NewTimes:

Comedian Steve Hofstetter spent an hour standing in front of Governor Jan Brewer's office asking white people if he could see their birth certificates. He videotaped his findings and the end result is hilarious.

The video is obviously designed to point out the hypocrisy of the new law, and those who support it -- including a hillbilly with two black eyes, who says he supports SB 1070 because it will "clean up the community."

When told he looked like a Canadian in the United States illegally and asked how he would react if someone asked to see his birth certificate -- as the new law would require suspected illegal immigrants to do -- that same black-eyed hillbilly responds with "somebody might get hit."

It's great. Check it out after the jump. And check out more on Steve Hofstetter here.

A Miner Complaint

I'm happy for the miners. Thrilled. Yay miners. Welcome home. Fresh tapas and a trip to Disneyland awaits.

I'm irritated by the media. As usual. You would think an industry that deals primarily with words would be loosely familiar with their definitions. Let me 'splain. No, too long. Let me sum up.

MIRACLE. Admittedly, i only read a few of the news stories, but i don't recall anyone walking on a pond, turning water to wine, or raising the dead. Maybe i just wasn't paying attention when the first miner emerged, helmeted and coal-faced, to the cheers of the crowd and the clicks of the cameras, and then walked over to craft services and died for our sins.

The rescue was the result of human effort, no more. We are incredible when we want to be. And then, because we hate ourselves, we give credit to the invisible man for our own divinity. We are too weak to admit to ourselves how strong we can be. So hey, yay us.

HERO. I don't mean to be a dick, not at the moment anyway, but these guys are victims, not heroes. A bunch of rocks fell on them. They suffered. They endured. And by all accounts, they stuck together and rode it out as a team. They are shining examples of the power of selfless community.

I have a vague memory of a convenience store heist gone terribly wrong when i was a child. The news reported that a man had entered a store to rob it, but got into a scuffle with an off-duty police officer and shot him. Other officers arrived quickly, forcing the gunman to take hostages, initiating an all-night standoff that ended badly for the gunman—a moment of carelessness, perhaps, a reach for a candy bar or an absent-minded yawn that stretched his neck, exposing the back of his head long enough for a sniper to find it.

But mostly i remember the adjective the media ladled on the survivors: heroes. Their ordeal was terrible, no doubt—twelve hours of wondering if the last thing you see would be, instead of your children’s faces, an expired, overpriced Hostess Twinkie. But they were not heroes.

Heroes make decisions. A hero is not a victim of his surroundings, but one who decides to intercede for victims of their surroundings, willing to risk his own safe harbor to rescue the adrift. The dead officer was a hero, but the hostages were victims. They no more deserved the title “hero” than people who buy winning lottery tickets—they simply walked into the right store at the right time, or the wrong store at the wrong time. The miners, god bless them, had their asses kicked by mother nature and poor engineering, and then admirably -- but not heroically -- shared their food.

MINER. What the fuck were 33 children doing in a coal mine?

Has-Beens Here, Stars Abroad

I'm currently traveling around Europe and decided I would report back on the American celebrities who may be VH1 reality material at home but are, curiously, still relevant abroad.

First up, 'stars' in the Netherlands:
Salt, Pepa- and Spinderella, of course- are apparently pretty big in the Netherlands. So big that they headlined a sold out show in Amsterdam. These posters were EVERYWHERE. And there was nothing ironic about it.
Every 'celebrity' magazine has a picture of Paris Hilton inside, prompting me to check the dates on the covers. Really? In 2010? I don't read Dutch, but I'm pretty sure all of the coverage is complimentary, too. They seem to like the twit. Must be her blonde hair, blue eyes and choice of recreational activities.
Nicolas Cage. Oh, Nicolas Cage. I've never noticed how much he looks like David Gest. Or how much David Gest looks like him.

Anyway, they seem to have actually taken 'Bad Lieutenant' seriously in Amsterdam. It's in almost every dvd store's window. Even the ones in the Red Light District. Which is weird.

Next up, I'll be in Belgium. I'm hoping for a En Vogue comeback concert. We'll see how it goes...

This is What Happens When Craigslist Removes Adult Section

Now that Craigslist has removed their adult section, reports say that adult ads are finding their way into the rest of the site. Here are a few:



new york craigslist > housing > apts by owner
Tight space available immediately. No carpets. Will cost double if you’d like to bring a roommate.



new york craigslist > for sale / wanted > free stuff
Extra large unit available. If you can carry it, you can keep it.


new york craigslist > for sale / wanted > antiques
Antique blower for sale. For someone with very specific tastes.



new york craigslist > personals > missed connections
You: tall dark and handsome and holding a fifty dollar bill. Me: buxom brunette who enjoys making her man happy. We met on the corner of Houston and Essex next Wednesday.



new york craigslist > housing > vacation rentals
Looking for a vacation from your mundane life? Leave the wife at home and try one of our wonderful foreign vacation properties. All properties are 23 to 25-years-old and barely speak English.


new york craigslist > jobs > skilled trades/artisan jobs
Hiring for hand job. Inquire within.

I'd Like To Work At Your Comedy Club...

It's comedians like this that ruin it for the rest of us. Enjoy!

This Dog Dances Better Than You

It starts slow, but by 30 seconds in, you'll wonder why this act is not already famous. Wow.

Dancing in the Ceiling

The following message is from Andrew Frank, a 17-year-old comic who's parents I hope don't read this. Sweet - I always wanted to be contraband. Good luck, Andrew!
-SH


I have immense respect for your work, and I truly believe you are among an elite class of brilliant comics working today. I am also a comedian. I am 17 years old, and currently attend Christian High School. I'm the son of a pastor, and I am so sheltered to the point where I have to hide your albums (and Hicks, Pryor, and Carlin) in the ceiling tiles in my basement. Haha, I know that may seem ridiculous, but thats the reality of my situation. Anyway, you've been a great influence on my comedy, and I really appreciate what you're doing.

Jesus of Nazareth, Nazareth, and Cohen.

I worked in Tallahassee, Fl. this past weekend and had a great time. I haven’t been to Tally since I went to school there back in the 90’s. By went to school there- I mean I drank and worked in bars for six years.

The shows were fun and very well attended. Most of the crowds were very entertained. I would say that the weirdest thing that happened was the drunk lady who stood up and yelled at me about a joke I did about Jesus.

That guy is very polarizing. I have had both Christians and Atheists give me shit about telling jokes about the big guy. My buddy Brett told me, “Tom, you shouldn’t joke about or even mention Jesus in your act because he is a fictional made up character.”

First of all, I think Jesus was an actual person and here is why- because he was a carpenter. You don’t give imaginary people jobs.

My buddy Larry, who I am making up right now because I don’t have a friend named Larry, doesn’t have a job. You know why? Because he isn’t real. He doesn’t need a job. You would have to give me a few moments to make one up for him.

Larry is a project manager for Hewlett Packard.

Jesus was a carpenter. That is how we know he was real. If they would have been making up jobs they would have picked a more glamorous job. Like beat reporter for the Nazareth Daily Bugle. Out fighting crime and saving souls. Or a lawyer. “Have you met my lawyer? Jesus of Nazareth, Nazareth and Cohen?

No- he was a lowly carpenter. That is how we know he was real.

When he was up on the cross, do you think he looked at it with a carpenters critical eye?

“Huh, this isn’t even level. Shoddy workmanship. This isn’t even good cyprus- look how that nail through my left wrist has split this inferior wood. Forgive them father, for they don’t build them like they used to.”

He was a carpenter for many many years before he went into the savior business. So he had to make some things. A table, a chest of drawers, a book shelf... (I guess it would be a scroll shelf since they didn’t have books.)

He made some things that is for sure. That is how we will find out he was real. Watching Antique Roadshow one day and the appraiser will be all, “Wow, this scroll pole looks ancient, let’s see who made it....”

Turns it over.... “JESUS CHRIST! That is going to be worth some money.... and I think it has healed my arthritis.”

A Beard, Spider Man, Baseball and Compassion

I have recently grown a beard. I now realize that I have always had a stereotype/prejudice against people with beards. Especially the black ones. My beard is thin and has a lot of white in it. I wish it was a little thicker and blacker.

I was thinking of getting some Just for Men beard dye- but my former self promised he would never do that. My beard pisses off skin heads cuz it shows that black and white can live together in peace.

I have a good friend who I just spent ten hours in a car with road tripping to a gig. He was struggling big time with breaking up with his girlfriend. Talking about it for eight hours at some point I was just using the cliches... “Don’t worry Matt, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.” But since the BP spill, not so much.

The Braves are awesome this year and that makes life a little better. Slumps are inevitable. Gotta remember that when doing comedy also. Sometimes jokes just aren’t funny to me any more. Sometimes my sense of humor is dark and I come off as an asshole, sometimes the new stuff needs a lot more work and I am trying to grind it out.

Saw a story on line about the casting for the new Spiderman movie. There was a campaign to cast a black actor. The headline of the story was- Why can’t Spider Man be a Black Guy? Why can’t Spider Man be black? I don’t know- cuz he isn’t. Why can’t Babe Ruth be a black guy? What about Fat Albert, why does he have to be black? Why can’t he be a skinny white guy? “Hey, hey, hey this cracker’s here to stay.”

I am just saying. Somethings just are what they are.

They say black is thinning. Unless you are that actress from Precious. How big would she look if she was white?

I am learning about compassion from five year old son Owen. While brushing his teeth last month he leaned forward and jumped up to spit in the sink, smacking his nuts into the cabinet door knob. He was hurt. And upset by my gut reaction- which was to laugh. That upsets him. He said, “It’s not funny! You always laugh when I hurt myself. It is not funny.”

I know it hurts son, I am laughing because it looks funny, like when we laughed at that Charlie Chaplin video where people got hit in the face by boards or fell down holes.

“Oh, but it isn’t very funny.”

He is of course right, physical comedy isn’t solidly written comedy. Which makes me laugh...

Owen made me realize that I need to be more aware of that, be genuinely sympathetic for him, and remember it is not funny when you are the one in serious pain.

But, it is hard not to laugh when a football goes through his hands and pounds him in the face. It just looks hilarious.

Looking back, he is right. I laugh all the time when he bumps himself or smacks his head into a door knob. I think that early on in a babies life, we as parents realize that a child’s level of reaction to a fall or bump somehow correlates to your reaction as a parent.

I have taken his feelings to heart and recently when he gets hurt in some funny looking way, I bite my tongue and try to make sure he sees I sympathize. We play baseball a lot with a tennis ball. A few weeks ago I hit a line drive off his face and as he ran to get the ball I could see he was hurt. So after I got to first base, I went and made sure he was okay. Even though I most likely could have taken second.

This week we were playing and he was crowding the plate, so I threw a little too inside to back him off. He had plenty of time but didn’t make a single move to get out of the way. The ball hit him square in the eye. It looked funny as shit. Until he started to cry.

I knew in the over all he was fine, so I really had to bite my lip and get to compassion. I consoled him and he quickly started to feel better and wanted to continue batting. I was walking to the “mound” and started joking with him about how he didn’t even try to get out of the way.

“Way to keep your eye on the ball son.”

And then a very cool thing happened. He laughed hard.

That was the first time I can remember him having the ability in his mind to make the intellectual connection required to laugh at the use of language. He even made a point of repeating the joke at the end of his ‘getting hit in the eye story’ later to mommy.

So, what did I learn? That my son makes me proud. He teaches me, and on top of that, at five he already appreciates basic comedy writing structure over physical comedy.

I was helping Owen with his homework. The section called for coloring with a dark crayon. I told him, “Yellow is not a dark color.” Owen says, “it can be- if you press down real hard.”