A Thanksgiving Tribute to Philip Seymour Hoffman (& Peppermint Patty)

I don’t know if it’s “too soon” to repost this, but consider it my tribute to the late, great actor (and to Ms. Patty, wherever she is)… WATCH ON YOUTUBE

He was very much alive when I made this, two years ago. I miss him, even though I didn't know him.

MANIFESTO's Big Anniversary Show @ littlefield!

A big show, celebrating a year of shows... JUDAH FRIEDLANDER, BEN KRONBERG & SUE SMITH will add more power to the lineup! (Dave Hill was called out of town by the showbiz authorities.) See you there, comrades! For info & tix ($5 in advance, $8 at door), CLICK HERE.

Update on Friday, October 24, 2014 at 2:21PM by Tim

We are New York Times approved!

Update on Monday, October 27, 2014 at 12:56PM by Tim

A bunch of comedians, backstage at the show.

Rhetorical Questions?

I just found out that my whole life people have been asking me questions I don’t need to answer. Who knew about rhetorical questions?! See, I try to be polite and a good listener. If someone asks me a question, I do my best to respond. Like if I offer you a piece of cake, and you say, “Why not?” I’ll say, “Maybe you don’t need the calories. Or you have a gluten allergy. Or don’t like chocolate.” Or if someone asks me if a bear shits in the woods, I’ll say, “I’m pretty sure they do, since they tend to live in wooded areas and need to defecate.” Or, “Do you always answer questions?” I’ll say, “I try to.” If you ask me something, and I go to the trouble of thinking about it, and then you say, “Um…that was a rhetorical question…” aren’t you kind of being an asshole? Who do you think you are, Socrates? Why don’t you just say what you mean instead of masking it as a question that you already know the answer to, or don’t want answered, which ultimately makes the listener, me, feel stupid? I mean, WTF?!

Advice to a Change Machine

Oh, change machine at the laundromat – you rejected 7 out of 8 dollar bills in my wallet. Could it be that your standards are a little too high? It’s like you don’t really want to give out change. Are you afraid to give? Afraid of change? It’s time to step up and “be the change machine you want to see in the world.” Or else focus on what you really like to do – inspecting and rejecting currency – but no one wants a machine to do that. If you wanna stay up there on the wall, you better “take a look at yourself and make that change!” I’m glad we had this talk, change machine. I believe you can be an agent of change! As the song says, “Turn and face the strange…”

A Gen X'er Responds about Dick Pics

I’m from Generation X, and I’ve never sent or received a dick pic. I don’t think all the Millennials understand: when I was your age, no one sent dick pics. No one even had a dick back then. Let alone the technology to send an image of it to someone instantly. Some of my friends STILL don’t have dicks. I’ll say to my buddy, NAME REMOVED, “How’s your dick? Have you been using it much?” He’ll say, “Nah, I don’t have one. I never got into it. I don’t see the point, dude.” (That’s the kind of blasé attitude people hate about Gen X'ers!) I try to tell these guys, “Look, there are a lot of things you can do with a dick. It gives you a way of connecting with people.” They’ll be like, “Nah, man, a dick is just to share with people you barely even knew in high school. I’d rather have people get to know me and not my dick. I’d rather spend my time the way I want, listening to R.E.M. and watching Wynona Ryder movies, than trying to win a popularity contest with my dick.” And I’ll be like, “You don’t even have a dick!” And he’ll just shrug. So, you see, I don’t do dick pics, and I don’t understand them, but I’m not exactly proud of my peers either. I may be Gen-X, but at least I have a dick, and I try to use it as positively and productively as I can.

Anti-Pickling Activism

I live in Brooklyn where everyone is into pickling. Not me. What I do to buck this stupid trend is, I go to an outdoor market, say the Brooklyn Flea, and buy someone’s ridiculously handcrafted, artisanal pickles. Then I go home and remove all the vinegar, salt, and seasoning -- I turn them back into cucumbers, their natural state before some hipster messed with them. (It takes many hours of gently squeezing and wringing the pickles, so as not to tear their delicate fibers.) Then I'll take the revived cukes to the grocery store and set them free on the shelf, with their friends. I think they’re happy, though it’s pretty hard to tell with cucumbers. Some people don't like what I do. I’ve been called an "unpickled pecker" -- which is fine with me! At least I know I'm doing something to fight the unnecessary brining and fermentation of vegetables that everyone does now, just to be cool. Stop the brining...stop pickling!