Continue reading »]]> Will my brother do 5 minutes of stand up comedy for the first time in his life or will I do 5 minutes of comedy wearing only ladies underwear?

This is the question I have to ask everyday to motivate myself to not eat Dairy Queen and lobster rolls 4 times a week.

In case you don’t know me, hi my name is Shawn Carter and I’ve been doing stand up comedy for about 7 years.  Most likely you’ve never heard of me unless you’re involved in the comedy scene in Boston or maybe you went to a show once and saw me but you likely wouldn’t remember my name.  However I have been on stage hundreds possibly thousands of times for the purpose of making people laugh.  Anyway this is all just to tell you why I need to wear ladies underwear.

Here’s the deal, I have two brothers of similar age and a father and we’ve all been living it up in this uber fat american society.  What I mean is we’ve all sort of let ourselves go.  So as we were sitting around having dinner last Sunday at my parents house my younger brother proposed a challenge.  Everyone throws in some money and the person to get in the best shape wins the cash.  Also a public shaming for the guy that comes in last.  That’s where the comedy comes in and my experience on stage is why I have to wear the ladies undies if I come in last.  If I were just to go onstage fully clothed I wouldn’t feel embarrassed enough.

Let me walk you through my eating habits on a typical weekday leading up to this.

7 AM – Wake up at take no food from home.

7:45 AM – Stop at Dunkin Donuts and buy a medium iced coffee and coffee roll (sometimes a donut or two instead)

10 AM – First break at work, hit up the vending machine for some doritos and maybe crackers maybe snickers bar but usually not JUST doritos……. also ice tea (the kind with a ton of sugar)

12 AM – Usually Papa Gino’s, for the Number 1 (with the extra slice of course) also sometimes a cookie.

6 PM – Something at an open mic or show,

11 PM – More FOOD…. done.

Oh and also probably some beer between 7pm and 11pm.

Basically I was eating everyday like I was going on a diet tomorrow.  With NO real plans to go on a diet.  So you can see why when someone said I bet I can lose more weight than you I said “I’m in!”

I don’t have a diet plan.  I’m just breaking all of my bad eating habits and exercising.  I weighed in last week at 232.5 pounds and as of earlier today the scale was reading 222.5 pounds.

I text my brothers constantly to taunt them with what I’m doing for exercise or just to let them know that I turned down dessert or free beer.  It’s weird but it’s the best way I can motivate myself, sibling rivalry.  We would never pat each other on the back and say nice job but we would rub it in the others face that we just did an hour of cardio and then lifted until muscle failure.  “Today I rode my bike (the kind you pedal) 14 miles.”  Is a text I just got to send.

Anyway the thing I want you guys/girls to know, the most important thing, is that this bet ends on August 9.  Which means that on August 12 one of my brothers will be doing stand up comedy at Sally O’Brien’s in Somerville for the first time ever or I will be doing comedy in only ladies underwear somewhere that week.

I’ll check in again next week.

your good friend,

Shawn.

p.s if you see me out at a show, please don’t offer me pizza or beer.

Thoughts, comments, questions?  Let’s talk on facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/shawncartercomedy

or twitter @ShawnCarters

Continue reading »]]> by Anthony Scibelli

In a surprising move, the estate of Joey Ramone held an on-line auction last week, selling personal possessions owned by the late punk rock icon. Many of the items sold for several thousand dollars, including Joey’s record collection, passport and collection of guitars.

“This is an exciting event that will further promote the legacy of Joey Ramone and those other guys he used to hang around with sometimes,” mumbled Joey’s brother Mickey Leigh. “Plus, because of the shape of Joey’s weird, freaky body, none of his clothes fit anybody else, so we couldn’t really do anything with them. It was either this or donate his shirts to used car lots to use as Airdancers.”

High profile rock and roll auctions like this are rare, but not unheard of. The last high profile rock and roll auction was in 1993, when the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame auctioned off a plethora of rock star memorabilia, including Bob Dylan’s lucky harmonica holder (which he was reportedly wearing when he lost his virginity to Joan Baez), Walter Becker and Donald Fagen’s celebrated collection of Faberge eggs, and David Bowie’s creepy ventriloquist persona from the early ’90s.

Much of the press around the event covered the more obvious items for sale, largely ignoring the more interesting items, which I’ve compiled here.

Joey’s Custom Fit Leather Jacket:

Few people realize that Joey never stopped growing his entire life. When he was in middle school, he was so tall that other students would often mistake him for a teacher. In high school, teachers would often mistake him for a principal. And by the time he was 25, Japanese tourists would often mistake him for Ultraman in drag.

By the time of his death, Joey was 8′ 2”. His clothing had to be developed specially to fit him by legendary tailor Leopold J. Gremlin, a pioneer in the use of stilts as a tailoring aid.

Joey’s Unsent Submissions to the New Yorker Caption Contest:

95% of them just read “Gabba gabba hey!” The others are actually surprisingly clever.

Exclusive Photos Taken at Joey’s Bar Mitzvah:

Also includes Joey’s kippah and the pair of Converse Chuck Taylors he wore during the ceremony.

Joey’s Leather Three Piece Suit:

Another custom designed outfit, this one made for the Ramones’ more formal gigs. Joey wore this suit during their disastrous 1979 White House performance for Jimmy Carter, in which Johnny told the president he was a “pinhead” for not re-invading Vietnam and Dee Dee was caught stealing pieces of White House silverware. Although the Ramones were able to escape the show unharmed, they forget Marky, who accidentally locked himself inside of Teddy Roosevelt’s bare knuckle kangaroo boxing lounge thinking it was a fire exit. The Ramones held auditions for new drummers the following week.

The Complete Sheet Music to Every Ramones Song:

One page.

A Handwritten List of Alternate Stage Names:

A list written right before Jeffry Ross Hyman decided on the name “Joey Ramone.” Other names he considered were Skip Ramone, Stretch Ramone, Lucky Ramone, Joseph E. Ramone, Kareem Abdul Ramone, Sheriff Wyatt Ramone, Tito Ramone, and Professor Winston Oglethorpe.

Photos of Joan Jett, Patti Smith and Deborah Harry:

None of them seem to be aware there’s a picture being taken.

A Flyer for Joey’s Pre-Ramones Jazz Quintet:

“Big Jeff Hyman and his Blitzkrieg Bebop Band.”

Joey’s Rose Tinted Sunglasses:

Joey only ever owned three pairs of glasses his entire life. One pair was broken when Johnny punched him in the face during what Joey later referred to as one of their most pleasant conversations together.

The second were lost during a 1987 tour in Argentina, in which the stage was stormed by overzealous fans in the middle of a concert. As the fans overpowered the security guards, Johnny continued playing, finishing “Rockaway Beach” and getting halfway through “Surfin’ Bird” before he realized the rest of his bandmates had run backstage hoping to avoid the deadly looking onslaught.

After a brief scuffle the Ramones were able to escape unharmed, losing only Johnny’s collection of EC comics and Joey’s glasses, which were ripped from his face by two fans sitting on each other’s shoulders and wearing a giant trenchcoat. Once again, the band forgot Marky, who had accidentally locked himself inside of Dee Dee’s dressing room, thinking it was a fire escape.

The third pair are these, which Joey purchased from a professional Joey Ramone impersonator.

A Flyer for Joey’s Pre-Ramones Progressive Rock Band:

“Big Jeff Hyman and his Excelsior Starship.”

Joey’s Custom Converse Chuck Taylors:

Joey’s shoes were a size 9 in Clown Sizes.

Handwritten Fan Letters to the Monkees:

Joey’s surprisingly in depth correspondences with the Monkees. They discuss music, fame, the criteria for legitimacy as artists and how much they all dislike Peter Tork.

The Complete Works of Immanuel Kant, Frederich Nietzche, and Albert Camus:

All unread.

Joey’s Personal Script for the Movie Rock ‘n’ Roll High School:

Also unread.

Joey’s Unproduced Spec Script for the sequel movie Rock ‘n’ Roll University:

The script is 23 pages long and features far more space travel and full frontal nudity than the original film.

Handwritten Lyrics to “I Wanna Be Sedated:”

Scrawled on the inside of a box of Raisinets, these include rejected lines like “I Wanna Be Deflated,” “I Wanna Be Berated,” “I Wanna Be Liquidated,” “I Wanna Be Interrelated,” “I Wanna Be Correlated,” and “I Feel Like Bustin’ Loose.”

Gift Certificates for Public Speaking Lessons:

Never used.

Every episode of Herman’s Head recorded on VHS tapes:

Apparently Joey just really liked Herman’s Head.

The auction was such a rousing success that the estates of the other Ramones members expressed similar interest in holding posthumous auctions, but plans ultimately fell through.

The estate of Dee Dee Ramone searched the late songwriter’s apartment and could find nothing but oversized chains and some Schoolly D LPs, while no one could muster up the courage to enter Johnny Ramone’s spooky and presumably heavily booby trapped mansion, designed as an exact replica of house from The Munsters.

Marky Ramone could not be reached for comment, as he had accidentally locked himself inside of David Lee Roth’s “Sex and Frozen Yogurt Nook” at Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp thinking it was a fire escape.

Continue reading »]]> by Anthony Scibelli

Welcome to 2013, faithful readers. To start off the New Year, I thought it might be fun to reprint an old magazine article I discovered from 1962, predicting what the world will be like by the year 2013. Originally published in the reputable Hepcat Magazine, the article was written by journalist Harvey Underhill, who would later have a long and celebrated career as a writer of fiction and nonfiction, best known for his novel All This and the Civil War and his play, the bedroom farce This is No Place for a Mortician!

Why did Underhill choose to write this article about the year 2013? I’m not sure. In fact, it seems strangely convenient for the purposes of my article. But regardless, that’s what the article was, so here it is, reprinted here for the first time since 1962.

The World of 2013: Flying Cars, Root Beer Floats & Martian Laundromats

by Harvey Underhill

With the 20th century more than halfway over, chugging ahead like a 19th century locomotive, an 18th century man riding a horse, or a 17th century horse riding a man, it is only natural to look forward to the ever approaching 21st century and wonder what life will be like for the future men, women, children, automatons, Martians and talking animals that will be populating the Earth by then. What follows is, admittedly, an extrapolation of what the future might hold. No man can say with certainty what will happen tomorrow, especially since there is currently an 80% chance that by the end of the week, the Russians will nuke us all into puddles with teeth and spectacles.

But, in researching this article, I have met with a number of highly respected historians, scientists, and other noted cultural observers, all of whom have helped me shape this view into the world of tomorrow. Also, there is a crumpled looking old man who sleeps outside of my building and claims he is a wizard from the future, and I’ve incorporated some of his observations here.

By the year 2013, the world will have changed a great deal, evolving even more rapidly than the cosmic shifts of the 1950s. Traditional automobiles will be replaced by the futuristic “hover cars,” followed soon after by the “flying cars,” and ending finally with traditional automobiles again, since the skies will become too congested with people in flying cars.

The average lunch in America (one cheeseburger and one root beer float) will remain unchanged into the 1980s, until the scientific revolution in which all food will be processed in digestible pill form and pills will be available in easily digestible cheeseburger and root beer float form.

In popular culture, rock and roll (the popular music that is now in its final throes), will slowly fade away from existence, being replaced ultimately by an exciting new musical sensation brought to Earth by Martian explorers. Although the music will be one thousand times more pleasurable, exciting and viscerally enjoyable than rock and roll, it will come with thirty-one years of brutal Martian oppression and colonization, ending when Sheena, the Martian Queen, finds herself inexplicable entangled in an erotic attraction to a dashing young Earth journalist, writing for a reputable magazine with hopes of finishing his long gestating Civil War novel. As their torrid affair continues, they decide to bring balance between the two warring species.

The “Western,” a now popular genre of film and television, will fall out of favor, only to be replaced by the growing “Beach Movie” genre, becoming the definitive American genre.

The 21st century will truly be a time of great optimism and celebration, and will be considered a golden age for journalism, particularly in the case of one mild mannered (but sharply handsome) journalist who, after brokering an erotic peace deal with the Martian Queen, will have a highly decorated career as a novelist and will never have to write stupid fluff pieces like this ever again.

Continue reading »]]> I love Christmas music.  I DO!!  However, I have some issues with a few Christmas tunes.  Here I have paired some of my favorite and most hated Christmas songs that have a common theme.

Death.

Love

Grandma Got Run-Over by a Reindeer -  A song about mythical flying reindeer running over someones grandma while grandpa doesn’t care…. What could be better?!?

Best Line: She had hoof prints on her forehead and incriminating Claus marks on her back.

Hate

Christmas Shoes -  I could go on for awhile on this one but it’s too depressing to think about, first of all I know mama’s sick but daddy can’t step up for one day and say “No son this isn’t the time to go shopping your mother might be dead later today and it’s Christmas Eve so maybe you should stay here with your family rather than sitting in a line at some store on Christmas Eve.”

Also are there any shoe stores open on Christmas Eve?  Also who was the singer buying gifts for at the shoe store on Christmas Eve, it seems as though his actual life is the only thing more sad and boring than his songs.

Worst Line:  Pacing around like little boys do.  (that’s not something that little boys are known for.  Did you mean fidgeting or running or yelling or saying buy this for me!?)

The Beatles

Love

So this is Christmas by John Lennon – Truly the best of the Beatles.

Best Line:  Let’s stop all the fight.  (one of the few Christmas songs that makes such a suggestion, I think Jesus would be into this shit.)

Hate

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time by Paul McCartney – Everyone I’ve talked to about Christmas music brings this song up as being the worst without any prompting.

Worst Line:  Simply having a wonderful christmas time.  (McCartney utters this phrase 14 times during the song, the only other lyric that comes close is the brilliant “ding dong” which is sang 9 times,  ughhhh what a piece of shit song)

Love or Gold digging?

Love

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus – Stop thinking this woman was a whore.  She was obviously kissing her loving and dedicated husband or baby daddy who went as far as to dress up as Santa on Christmas Eve,

Best Line:  If daddy had only seen (Irony)

Hate

Santa Baby – Gold digger tries to cash in on Christmas.

Worst line: the deed to a platinum mine. (not only does she want jewelry she wants to own the mine which means next year she’s going to have to ask for slave labor because I doubt she’s mining that place on her own.  I also imagine that chimney is a euphemism for vagina, otherwise I don’t think Santa is even listening.)

Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer

Love

Rudolph by DMX -  How could you not love this?!?!

Best Line: Come on Come on!!!!  (put his own twist on it)

Hate

Rudolph by anyone else – They all just seem boring and old after hearing DMX.

Worst Line:  (who cares it’s not DMX)

Rap/Hip Hop

Love

Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC – Really fun to listen to upbeat and different from most popular Christmas songs.

Best line:  Looked at his dog, oh my god, an ill reindeer.  (we’ve all made this mistake before)

Hate

Any of the Christmas songs by The Ying Yang Twins.

Worst Line:  ?????????????   (I honestly can’t understand anything they’re saying…. or “singing”)

Merry Christmas Everyone.

Continue reading »]]> by Anthony Scibelli

As you, my faithful, intelligent and sexually attractive readers are fully aware, I usually do not follow alarmist rhetoric. I am a natural doubter, sometimes doubting as many as fifty things before breakfast, and I do not jump to conclusions easily.

There are more than a few wrestling matches from my high school days who’s outcomes I am still questioning and hope to overturn. And deep down, I still suspect that the real culprit in Murder on the Orient Express was Lee Harvey Oswald.

But in the months leading up to December, all this “Mayan Apocalypse” talk has begun to make a lot of sense. Events are happening that have been foreseen in holy texts from around the world: Hurricanes hitting New York City. Strange lights sighted over Mount Everest. Led Zeppelin reunited on Letterman, but don’t play any music. Also, I think those giant rocks crashing into my backyard are meteorites. Even if not, they’re still very large rocks.

All this doomsday talk has really put a damper on my creative output. After all, why spent the hours and hours of research, preparation, procrastination and then the final Jack Kerouac-style anxiety-filled keyboard-pounding writing process of writing this weekly column if all of my readers won’t be around tomorrow? I could spent today doing a number of things that are more rewarding: finding true love, spending time with people I care about, not writing this column.

Of course, to really understand the significance of the Mayan calender, we have to begin at the beginning. Living in what is today Mexico, the Mayans were an ancient civilization who’s technological breakthroughs confuse even today’s nerdiest scientists.

According to the most prominent theory, the Mayans didn’t construct their own calender at all. It was given to them as a gift by a time-traveling space alien named Krumlax, who visited the Mayans thousands of years ago and could be seen only by their king K’inich Janaab’ Pakal. Among the many inventions and innovations brought to the Mayans from beyond the stars were basketball, the concept of zero, and how to eat Oreo cookies with peanut butter.

Krumlax gave the Mayans the calender as a parting gift, before he returned to his home world. The Mayans, noticing that the calender ended on the ominous date of 12/21/12, asked the kindly sky-man what that meant. “It’s the end of the world,” he replied. As the Mayans proceeded to freak out, Krumlax calmly told them, “But, seriously, I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.”

“Sure, we will be gone by then, but our descendants…” They began.

“Trust me,” repeated Krumlax. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

If the world does end tomorrow, we had a pretty good run. Good, not great. Sure, we did a lot of things right: peanut butter cups, wasabi, The Beach Boys. And consider our propensity for progress. Within sixty years of discovering the secret of flight, we sent a manned space craft from the Earth to the Moon. And then we never went back because, unlike we assumed, it wasn’t swarming with extra terrestrial Space Babes who had never before experienced the touch of a man.

But there are just as many things that the Earth has never and (apparently) will never accomplish, if things go according to plan tomorrow. For example:

• I never kept a dream journal.

• We never produced a really great Looney Tunes movie.

• Also, we still have tons of war and murder and pestilence and disease.

If the world does end tomorrow, then this, quite regretfully, would be my final column. So, like a great movie serial in the days of yore, this week’s column will end on a cliff-hanger, with our heroes strapped into a motorcycle, hurtling off into the unknown as the end credits invite us back for next week.

If the world does not end, tomorrow, then you can expect a new column next Thursday. Or maybe something a little bit more. Something grander. Maybe it’s time to actually consider what would happen if the world were to end tomorrow, and forge ahead into a new golden age of life on Earth, where people are kind to one another, where we truly realize the potential of each day, where we experience each moment of time as being unique and totally equally important to each moment that preceded it. Or whatever.

Continue reading »]]> by Anthony Scibelli

With the long-awaited film adaptation of The Hobbit opening today, I thought it might be fun to look back at the oft-ignored life of its author: J.R.R. Tolkien.

Tolkien began writing his mythology while in the trenches of World War I. To amuse himself during his down time and take his mind off the unspeakable horrors of war, Tolkien began making up fake languages, beginning with “Goober Talk,” a language in which every word is replaced with “Goober.” As his languages grew in sophistication, he dedicated more time to developing them, which proved detrimental to the British forces on only one or two occasions (most notably, the incident in which the German forces raided the trenches while Tolkien, the look-out, sat pondering over the proper plural word for “Dwarf” (he went with “Dwiffle.”)).

While working at Oxford, Tolkien was constantly tormented by the larger, jockier professors, who frequently stole his academic papers and stuffed him in lockers. It was not uncommon for a student to open their locker in the morning, only for a disheveled Tolkien to pop out.

Tolkien’s biggest rival at the school was Professor Ronald Goblin, a professor of Rugby Studies, who often assigned his students homework that consisted largely of taunting the language professor. Tolkien’s luck would change, however, when one morning, as he ate breakfast at his favorite pub, he discovered floating in his beer, a magical gold ring.

The ring gave him the power of invisibility and (thinking quickly), he snuck into Goblin’s classroom and proceeded to rip off the professor’s pants as he began his lecture. As the classroom exploded into laughter, Tolkien removed the ring and smashed a lemon into Goblin’s face, calling out, “Sorry if it tastes a little sour, Ron!”

From that point on, Tolkien became a campus legend, turning his colorful antics into thinly disguised stories in his mythology. He quickly wrote The Hobbit in a flurry in 1937 after the promotion of Professor Archibald Smaug to chancellor, a position that Tolkien coveted, as it came with a signing bonus of one giant pile of gold coins.

But Tolkien’s biggest triumph was the release of The Lord of the Rings. The novel was an immediate success, and Professor Tolkien was briefly embraced by the literati, taking part in high society meetings with famous writers. This excursion was short lived, however, after an embarrassing incident at a dinner party, in which Tolkien, drunk on beer he claimed to have purchased from “The Green Dragon Tavern,” alienated his fellow authors.

The night began innocently enough, with Tolkien speaking with a young and energetic Philip Roth. As Roth probed Tolkien’s mind about writing, he also suggested a reason behind the hair on Hobbits’ feet. Although Tolkien politely declined Roth’s disgusting suggestion, it later found it’s way into Portnoy’s Complaint.

Things began going sour, however, when Tolkien was introduced to Truman Capote and, thinking he was a  Hobbit, began asking him questions about the Shire and if he was holding pipeweed. After telling the reclusive J.D. Salinger that he enjoyed The Catcher in the Rye, but thought it might be improved upon with the inclusion of an old wizard or perhaps a cave troll, Tolkien got into an argument with Jack Kerouac over the real meaning of America. When Kerouac launched into a diatribe about bebop, Tolkien instigated a fight by throwing Vladimir Nabokov across the room, landing in Samuel Beckett’s soup and, in the process, tearing off one of Isaac Asimov’s legendary muttonchop sideburns.  Although Tolkien escaped the melee unfazed thanks to his magic ring, his reputation amongst his fellow authors had been irrevocably damaged.

From that point on, he was banned from all high society literary events (although he managed to sneak into quite a few with his magic ring) and spent the remainder of his life working on the project he considered his magnum opus: the never published novel The Toe-Tappin’ Adventures of Theodore the Cockney Gnome.