Actually, I go out in public all the time. Couple times a week. Sometimes three. The rare part is that I'm announcing it this time.
See, as a way of coping with not having a job I have a collection of part time jobs that don't pay me anything. There's the comic strip, which you bastards better be reading (regardless of the fact that the new one still hasn't been posted even though it's been like a month, bitch at Mace, not me), there's the insane tasks that my Mother cooks up for me to do in an attempt to kill me (“Oh, I just need you to dig a three-foot ditch down a 45 degree angled hill...”) , there's the occasional drag racing and then there's this new thing.
About once a month I do the soundboards for a local indie pro-wrestling outfit called the WVWA. We've got a show tomorrow at the St Mary's Marina. 'Marina' being used loosely in this instance to describe the shack on the edge of the river in which we've been holding these things.
No, I'm not a wrestling fan. You've probably gathered that from the fact that I've spelled everything correctly and I've not yet used the term “Whoop-Ass”. I got into this as a favor to to one of the wrestlers named Ryan Spade, but he has a schedule conflict that's kept him out of the biz for a bit. Either a schedule conflict or he twisted his spine again, I don't fuckin' know. Anyhow, I kept doing it partially as a favor to the Emcee Adam Needef (featured in this movie trailer) and partially just because it's fun putting on the show even though I really have no interest in what's going on in the ring most of the time.
I say 'most of the time' because part of the time I'm trying to keep bloody, flying thumb-tacks and splintered wood and fucking barbed wire out of my fucking equipment.
I'm really only bringing this up to let you fuckers know I'm gonna be there and I'll be available for autographs for a modest fee (or in return for sexual favors as usual) and because some guy named Beautiful Bobby Eaton is going to be there. I've been told he was some kind of big deal or something. I don't know. I'm not a wrestling fan.
Funny thing is though, if you're sitting at a table next to a wrestling ring people assume you're a wrestling fan. They come up to me and do two things. They start talking to me about some wrestling match from the 80's, assuming that I have it memorized just like they do, and I just nod my head stupidly like I know what they're talking about and then they ask me for a pen.
It never fails. Every fucker in that goddamn glorified pole-barn of an arena asks me for a pen. I have to hide the one I did bring with me. It's either in my pants pocket or in my hand. If it goes on the table for even a second it's fucking gone.
Because of course I have pens for everybody! That's what the sound guy is for! To provide writing impliments for everyone! Hooray! The sound guy is here! Let's all write poetry!
That's why this time I'm bringing a .99 cent bag of pens with me. Whole big bag of cheap ass pens.
I'll be selling them for $1.00 each. Suck on that.
So come and buy a ticket, buy a pen, and come give me something to talk about other than wrestling for the love of god. I may even have a sketchbook with me, though I won't have time to use it till after the show.
Before the show and during the intermission I'll be pumpin' mad tunes, all of which were probably hits before you were fucking born.
That's April 22nd at the St Mary's 'Marina'(shack). Doors open at 5 PM, show's at 6 PM and if you happen to talk to anyone running the show why don't you mention how cool it would be if they gave the sound guy a few bucks for his effort?
Oh yeah, I promised a dick joke didn't I?
I started looking for a clip from Bill Hicks, the undisputed master of the dick joke, but oddly enough I couldn't find a clip of one. Bill Hicks is one of my personal heroes and one of the shapers of my philosophy that I went on about two posts ago. I even, without meaning to, pretty much wrote out some of it verbatim, so by way of apology to the great man, here's the first of many Bill Hicks clips I will be bringing to you unworthy bastards.