Busket

Assholes rarely win

It doesn't bother me that much that Kiefer Sutherland won the Emmy for best lead in a drama series. What DOES bother me is that I actually spent the time watching the fucking Emmy's to SEE Kiefer Sutherland win.

Now I'm not a fan of 24...but I understand that with hype come accolades. So Kiefer, congratulations, Jack Bauer is a total nut job. But for my money, you ain't shit compared to Denis Leary.

For the record, Rescue Me is by far the better show with much clever writing. Plus, Denis Leary writes for it, acts in it, and produces it.

Then again, now I can understand why Leary sat next to Kiefer during his roast on Comedy Central. As Colin Quinn put it nicely, "Dont sit with your real friends Denis, sit with Kiefer." Or something like that.

I can already see who introduced Leary to Fox, but that person shall remain nameless. It's now what you know but who you know. So it makes sense, with TV politics and all, that Sutherland would win.

That's my idea for a t-shirt: Sit with Kiefer.

Perhaps next time Denis. I voted for ya.

And for the record, fuck this year's Emmy's. The only good thing that came out of the tiresome ordeal was Stephen Colbert belting out, "I LOST TO BARRY MANILOW!"

Priceless.

Those who remember, Denis Leary was the one who said "I want to have a Barry Manilow skull keg party at my apartment."

No wonder he lost too.

Sit with Barry Manilow.

Chappelle's show

ROSEMONT, IL- The stage is bare, and unlike Elvis, I am not standing there, but rather sitting and listening to the crowds mingle its way into the Rosemont Theater. It was Saturday, as I dutifully can remember, and approximately 7:30 in the evening. These crowds, they were not what you might expect. Most of them were white, and by that I mean transparent. Some even wore colored neckties. All around, beautiful blondes with curled hair, tall heels and bigger lips, strutted their shtick down the incline that led to their seats.

They were expensive seats. I was sitting dead center. I say the crowd was unusually white because it was a show that dealt with racism, bigger cocks than mine, infidelity, masturbation, the show Cheaters, and Iceberg Slim, a Chicago pimp who is long gone.

The show in questions was a Dave Chappelle stand up comedy gig.

“This is some suburban shit,” Chappelle said when he entered the stage after much waiting.

He was right. It was right on the outskirts of the city. The type of venue, which in the past featured George Carlin (also a show I splurged cash on). But that was long ago.

This is also a part of the reason why I went to see the man perform his shtick live on the stage. Not because I am an overt Chappelle fan-boy, with a Chappelle’s Show DVD set, Comedy Central neon light and Half-baked on laser disc and VHS, but because I tend to shell out money on these live shows when I consider the artist prolific.

Much like George Carlin, who in a way is the grandfather of comedy now, Chappelle is the stuff legends are born from. It may sound silly, but in the same respect that Richard Pryor was voted the greatest stand up comedian of all time by Comedy Central, Chappelle ranks right up there with those comedians who make you question, learn, laugh and reflect on a culture, that sometimes makes you puke.

It was said that Richard Pryor gave Chappelle the torch to carry on. In some respects I would agree. Who were the other candidates? Bernie Mac? Eddie Murphy? Hey man, I enjoyed “RAW” as much as the next guy, but Chappelle showed he had character when he walked away from the $50 million Comedy Central offered him for another season of Chappelle’s show. Talk about not wanting to prostitute yourself.

But noble anecdotes aside, the motherfucker is funny.

His professional bravado, impeccably laced with quick laughs, thoughtful pauses and lightning quick responses to the handful of asshole hecklers out of the 4000 people there that night, gave new meaning to the term “professional comedian.” Fuck…you couldn’t do that shit. I couldn’t do that shit.

Somebody from the deep left balcony actually said “Fuck those white motherfuckers,” and the man recovered. Of course, Dave was doing a spiel about immigration in America, and somebody felt the need to chime in.

“Fuck those white motherfuckers? That’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard during a show. Speaking of white….”

You have to be quick on your feet when you do that type of work. I always admired that about standup comedians. Their ability to turn a potentially show ending atmosphere into lead in to the next bit amazing. One wrong quip from a heckler and the atmosphere can turn into that awkward silence when granny talks about cheating on grandpa. At least nobody said "I'm Rick James, bitch!"

But comedians are quick aren’t they? It takes years of practice. I wouldn’t be able to open up for Chappelle’s DJ’s drug dealing friend’s dog. I’d smoke a Marlboro on stage, sweat and talk about Bill Hicks.

Then the riots would start.

Not really, of course, but one could sense the belly of the beast. But Dave controlled his environment, his people mind you, with the tenacity of a bobcat. Wild and collected, his poetry became music.

His spiels about the word “vagina” made people gyrate in their seats. He only said that it was too formal. Vagina is apparently a “pussy with a bowtie.”

“Hello white people,” he said. He mentioned that he was not referring to the whites in the audience but the other “white people.” The ones there that night, were, apparently, cool enough to hang out with him.

A barrel of laughs as always, Dave closed the show with an anecdote about Iceberg Slim, a Chicago pimp, who basically made a trick of the century, by pimping his “bottom bitch” into many more financial endeavors, to say the least.

While this show might not live in infamy, as say, Pryor’s did elsewhere, he is really the prime candidate of our generation to take over the crown of the man who once came out with an album called “That Nigger’s Crazy!”

Hiatus

Deep out there, somewhere in the stratosphere, an idea is brewing. It's an idea without a name yet. It's a left turn on a red light. It's a "righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me."

But until that idea comes, here's Jenna.

Bloody Horseshoe Pit

Here's a nice story that will have you quoting Brodie Bruce from Mallrats. "You face forward, or you face the possibility of shock and damage." On that note, a Northampton, Pa man survived a horseshoe pit stake impaling after he allegedly was backing up with a sprinkler and fell onto the said rusty stake.

Thank God the man survived.

But this casualty breeds an interesting point. Why are we still playing horseshoes? You know we have cell phones, cheese whiz and computers under a $1000 but we still mange to engage in this "fun" activity. We don't even USE horses, unless your a stubborn police officer, as an important means of metropolitan transportation (Notice I refrained from Amish, farmer and lovebirds-who-want-a carriage-ride jokes).

A game of horseshoes anyone? Hell no! Besides such violent accidents as this, perhaps the only way to summarize a game of horseshoes is to quote Dave Attell from his Skanks for the Memories album:

That must have been invented before fun, because it's not. There's only two ways for that game to end. Either this sucks, let's do something else, or OWW you hit me with the horseshoe.

Sticker

Here's a couple of things I'd want to see on a bumper sticker:

1. "Honk, if you're mom is born again Christian."

2. "My other ride is a rickshaw."

3. "I became an alcoholic because my daughter didn't make the honor roll."

4. "I should have bought stock in Exxon-Mobil."

5. "You think that's coffee?"

6. "That's not my girlfriend down there."

7. "Or my boyfriend."

8. "I have an alibi."

9. "His shoe size was a nine or a ten."

10. "I don't tip during mass."

Hunter S. Thompson on David Letterman 1983

"sugar tits"

I can only imagine that Mel Gibson jokes will be with us for awhile. While his anti-Semitic remarks were definitely a No-No, I still have a growing suspicion that that won't stop people from saying things like "Let's party like Mel Gibson." You know, with a bottle of tequila in the back seat and calling female officers "sugar tits."

Speaking of sugar tits...