Just saw two sets by Jimmy Pardo, my favorite comedian, at The Comedy Attic, my favorite club. Tomorrow, I get to repeat it with three of my favorite people.
Pretty good weekend by any measure.
Last night: the Roast of Brad Wilhelm, a man I’ve known in some capacity for almost 20 years and someone I’m proud to call my friend. (We drove to Chicago together in July to see Jimmy Pardo. A joy!)
Tonight: Jimmy Pardo with (I’m assuming) my pals the Frys.
Tomorrow night: Jimmy Pardo with Lane, Jessica and Lacey.
Sunday night: Never Not Funny Live at The Comedy Attic.
It’s a Jimmy Pardo weekend.
Tonight is the Celebrity Roast Of Brad Wilhelm, so I made a little something special.
I don’t want to know what email phisting is.
If I have an idea, I try really hard to follow through on it—not because I’ll know where it’ll go, but you can talk yourself out of anything. You can convince yourself that it’s not worth trying, because it seems unattainable at some level. But I’ve had enough great fortune with people being responsive to me, historically, that if I have an idea, I marry it to an action.
Source: chicagoreader.com
I’m going to go ahead and declare today Everything You Thought Was Right Was Wrong Today Day at JB World Headquarters, for a number of reasons.
Source: youtube.com
Remember when you watch Indiana governor Mitch Daniels give the Republican response to the State Of The Union tonight, that’s the motherfucker who literally and intentionally threw dirt on me on September 20, 2005.
Lyle Lovett’s “Who Loves You Better” from The Road To Ensenada.
This song never fails to destroy me.
Late nights in musty motel rooms
Stale lives left by someone else
White lies I wish I could tell you
And questions I ask of myselfWhy do I do the things that make me sorry
Why do I do the things that make you cry
Will I lose your love to another
Who loves you better than IThe angels smile when you’re praying
But the devil laughs when you lie
And some things they go without saying
When tears fill up your eyesWhy do I do the things that make me sorry
Why do I do the things that make you cry
Will I lose your love to another
Who loves you better than ISome questions beg for an answer
Like a poet begs for a rhyme
Somehow all I can remember
Is holding your hand in mineLate nights in musty motel rooms
Stale lives left all alone
He’s telling you how he wants you
And I’m praying he doesn’t knowWhy I do the things that make me sorry
Why I do the things that make you cry
If I could lose your love to another
Who loves you better than IWho loves you better than I
I believe.
I believe in getting my hands dirty.
I believe in fixing it myself.
I believe that laughter is the best medicine.
I believe that stand-up comedy is the purest art form.
I believe in holding grudges and letting them go.
I believe in second chances, and thirds and fourths.
I believe in hugs.
I believe in face-to-face, not Facebook.
I believe the strongest bonds are formed at night over drinks.
I believe nothing is more important than spending time with the people I care about.
I believe in turning the stereo all the way up.
I believe in long road trips.
I believe in saying “yes” more often than saying “no”.
I believe that trying is as important as succeeding.
I believe in telling everyone how important to me they are.
I believe in doing anything in my power for my friends and family.
I believe in the magical restorative power of music.
I believe in thanking waitresses and bartenders every time and tipping them well.
I believe in voting with my dollar.
I believe in trying new things.
I believe in the inherently sweet nature of pit bulls.
I believe in holding hands.
I believe in public displays of affection.
I believe in women with curves.
I believe in closing my eyes and jumping in with both feet.
I believe in “I love you”.
I believe in shutting up when the movie starts.
I believe in never, ever giving up.
I believe in the power of positive action.
I believe that the greatest rewards come from overcoming the greatest discomfort.
I believe in strong coffee, cold beer and red wine.
I believe in burning bridges.
I believe in ink on paper.
I believe in sharp knives and cast-iron skillets.
I believe in Singles, The Big Lebowski, Quentin Tarantino and George Clooney.
I believe in Little Willie John, Hank Williams, John Coltrane, Thin Lizzy, Bob Pollard and Sloan.
I believe in George Carlin, Jimmy Pardo, Henry Rollins and Hunter Thompson.
I believe if I don’t love you, baby, grits ain’t grocery, eggs ain’t poultry, and Mona Lisa was a man.
I believe anything can happen, and probably will.
Is it too much to ask that What Is and What Should Be are the same every now and again, for those of us that don’t live in the magical land of Stuckeyville, Ohio?
I’m afraid Ed might have permanently warped my sense of what’s possible.
