Boy, Trojan sure is a horrible name for a condom.

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.

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.” 

                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.

poem, it’d be a haiku. It’s

short and looks Asian.

The Greeks hid inside it and slaughtered them in their sleep.

 Can you imagine if Iraq suddenly gave us a huge wooden camel?  Left it at an airport.  I think we’d look inside.   Although that analogy breaks down since the Trojans weren’t bombing the Greeks over olive oil.

At least one Trojan had to be like, “Hey, you know how we were just at war with them?  Shouldn’t we look inside it’s mouth?” 

Then another Trojan was like, “You can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  And why are we speaking English?”

“Stop breaking the fourth wall.”

“The walls of Troy can’t be broken.”

“No, that’s a reference to Greek drama.”

“I thought we hated the Greeks?”

The Trojans weren’t good at protection.  Which makes that a horrible name for a condom.  When you use a Trojan, you’re basically saying, “Something might slip through and kill you from the inside.”

Ladies, don’t have sex with Greeks.

 

CAITLIN: Hello?

BUSH: Hi, this is the President.
CAITLIN: Oh my God! Hello, Mr. Clinton!
BUSH: No, it’s George W. Bush.  But please, call me George, Caitlin. CAITLIN: Okay George Caitlin.  BUSH: No.  Listen, Caitlin I just wanted you to know not to worry about your answer the other night.  Pubic speeches are very difficult, so  you still made the South and all US Americans very proud. 
CAITLIN: Wow, thank you.  Are you calling from the Green House?
BUSH: Actually it’s the White House.  Here in DC. 
CAITLIN: Wow.  Must be dangerous over there.  Without any maps and all.  Did you catch Obama yet?
BUSH: No unfortunately. Probably because we don’t have maps. Listen, I’ll catch you later. I got to go to the restroom with Larry Craig.

Cooper came down the steps the other morning holding his stuffed lion. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and said:

“Mom, do you know how I know that this lion is a boy?”

Nancy, a little surprised by this conversation asked: “No how do you know that lion is a boy?”

Cooper pointing to the lion’s head: “Because he has a brain.”

“A brain?” Nancy was thinking that I had put him up to this…”What do you mean he has a brain?”

“Yeah”. Pointing to the lions head: “He has a brain. All this hair it’s called a brain.”

“Cooper that hair is called a mane.”

“Oh yeah. A mane. He’s a boy because he has a mane.”