Comedy Central cut this joke from those that aired…

The Celtics defeated the Lakers in Boston last night to win the NBA championship four games to two.  The 131-92 point shellacking was the largest finals-clinching gap in NBA history.  Kevin Garnett dominated down-low with 26 points and 14 assists.  Pierce also had a double-double (17pts/10ast) while Allen and Rondo both scored in the 20s (26 and 21).  James Posey spent more time in the corner than REM, going 3 for 3 from downtown at crucial moments in the first half. 
If anyone knows about do-or-die moments, it’s Kobe and the girl he attacked in Colorado, but Bryant only had 22 points.  Dr. Kevorkian could have had more than Kobe’s one assist, and the season MVP probably could have used the doctor’s services after the game.  He hung his head low as Pierce dumped Gatorade on Doc Rivers and Garnett cried harder than Chris Crocker watching the Notebook.

Watching this finals was like watching Cobra Kai (from ) take on the Hawks (from ).  Two evil teams in the famous Battle of Whogivesafuck.  On the one hand, you had a team who made a lopsided trade this season for an amazing big man for absolutely nothing in return.  On the other, the same.  One had 16 championships, while the other, only 14.The Lakers got Pau Gasol for Kwame Brown, a couple shitty gaurds, and a couple low picks.  The Celtics got Kevin Garnett for Al Jefferson, a few shitty players, and two picks.  Seriously?  This would be like if I went to a bar wearing a tie-die shirt and Umbros and somehow took home a model.  Everyone knows there’s foul play involved.

The NBA had to make sure they covered up last year’s black eye of having a gambling referee by ensuring two legendary teams made the finals.  All it took was poor officiating, questionable trades and lots of kickbacks.

But it’s about time Boston fans had something to chair about.  Just when you thought small city markets couldn’t win another championship, you hear the triumphant stories of underdogs like the Boston Celtics, Boston Red Sox, and New York Giants. Watch for the Knicks to win a title next year when they get Dwight Howard in exchange for Renaldo Balkman.

Kobe will now cry himself to sleep, wiping the tears away with hundred dollar bills, on a bed made of solid gold, next to his gorgeous girlfriend.  And his wife.

Did You Know?  The two franchises have the most championship wins, with the Celtics now leading 17-14; although the Lakers lead in finals appearances, with 29.  The Celtic’s glory had been deader than Len Bias since their last title in 1986, but their 8 straight titles from ‘59-’66 is the longest consecutive championship win streak in American history.

Hey,
I just got a call that my episode of Live at Gotham will air on June 27th.  Check it out at 10pm on Comedy Central.

Currently I’m on the road, doing 9 colleges in 9 days.  Then I’ve got 3 more a few days later.  God bless NACA Northeast for saving me from poverty.  I had to do this show up at the University of Maine that wasn’t exactly ideal for a comedian.  It was a Relay for Life benefit in this huge track & field center, essentially entertaining people who weren’t paying attention.  I had to compete against Guitar Hero, tents, and people who were walking around a giant track to support cancer research/victims.  Despite it, I had an alright set, and recently discovered a positive review of the show.

 The best show so far has probably been Fitchburg State University.  Although Bryant College was a close second.  The worst show I’ve done in my entire life was Binghamton University.  They had me host a Battle of the Bands.  “Go up and make people (who arent here to see you) laugh inbetween bands for three hours!”  “Yay!”  When I got home, my face lit up as I realized I had in fact gotten a friend request from a Binghamton student.  The message that came with it something along the lines of “You suck.  Give up comedy.” 

                “I think cops cause more accidents than they prevent,” I studdered.  “When you see one on the road, you slam on your breaks and struggle to get a seatbelt on.  Think about it.  Next to every accident you see, there’s always at least one cop.”

                The auditorium erupted with laughter.  Suddenly I had a little confidence.  I smiled into the blinding spotlight and looked down at my hand for my next joke.  My set list, which I had written on the back of my hand before the talent show, was nothing but a sweaty black smudge. 

                I panicked for a second, then remembered, “If Sir Isaac Newton had a brother, he’d be the uncle of modern science.”  It was a joke format I had stolen from Carlin and I delivered it like Hedberg, but that’s how all comedians start:  by borrowing from those before them.  Or as Newton put it, by standing on the shoulders of giants.

                By the end of my set, I was a new man.  I was a stand-up comic.   Or so I thought.  I called up every comedy club in Cleveland, Ohio (the Mecca of comedy).  “Hello, Cleveland Improv?  May I speak to the manager?  Hi, yes, I am a 16 year-old comedian in Cleveland.  Just did a high school talent show.  I’m hoping to perform at your club.  Maybe this weekend?”  Click.

                The only stagetime I could find was this open mic listed in the newspaper.  It was a small club in the inner-city called the Robin’s Nest.  Opening the door was like one of those scenes in Westerns where the music stops and some hick yells, “You ain’t from around here, are you?” and then fills the silence with a banjo.  At age 16 and weighing 115 lbs, I walked into what turned out to be an all-black room.  Just a little nerd from the suburbs chillin’ with a couple dozen black people.

                I wrote my name down on the list and waited to go onstage.  The guys before me were doing very well with the crowd, but in a way that made me know I was going to bomb.   When one comedian shouted, “I eat ass like a crab!” and then made a corresponding  gesture, he got a standing ovation.  I looked down at my set list: Sir Isaac Newton, Trojan Wars, Harry S. Truman.  “This isn’t going to go well,” I thought.

                I finally get called up and struggle just to get the microphone out of the stand.  My first couple jokes bomb hard.  For some reason, I’m just not connecting.  I’m like, “Don’t you guys hate it when your DVD player breaks and you have to walk to the other side of your mansion to get your other one?”

In the front row sits a heckling fat dude with bushy white hair on each side of his head and two gold front teeth.  I’m bombing; he’s heckling.  This cycle continues until I get to this anti-joke.  In my first set, I used to just say, “Koala bears are awesome,” and then move on  because I thought it was funny to begin a new random topic and ignore it.  Well it just so happens Bushy Hair Magee heckles me and I say, “Koala bears are awesome.”

                The whole audience goes, “Oh snap!  Oh shit!  He did not just say that!”  And I realized that the heckler kind of looked like a koala.  So I get an unintentional applause break with an urban crowd, and ended up winning some “Best Comeback of the Night” award.