Karma Police

I'm not even sure where to begin in regards to last night.

It was either the absolute best, or absolute worst, show I've ever been involved in. Three and half hours. Twenty comics. Six of whom were funny. It was the emcee's last PGH show before his move to the Big Apple, and needless to say, a lot of people came out to support him, and of course, in Pittsburgh, we "support," and show love for our friends with shot upon shot of Jaegermeister. Needless to say, but Rocco, by all accounts a champion, seasoned drinker, got totally smashed and had to retire somewhat early. I escorted him to the bathroom and it had to be one of the Top Five pukes I've ever seen in my degenerate, aimless life. It would have been impressive if it wasn't happening to such a damn fine individual. Rocco will live to fight another day. He was literally carried out of the bar.

The owner of the bar bought me a drink after my set. It is always cool to "get paid" for making someone laugh with an ice-cold beer.

The Moose was about as dirty as I'd ever seen her after the show, and that says something, because if the Moose was a broad, you'd surely "double bag," even on the best of days. Thanks to Rocco's friends, Travis Walling, and a few others who stuck around a bit and helped clean up the clumps of silly string, cigarette butts, and bottles and glasses. I'm still amazed that this didn't happen at some point...


Before all that radness, I found myself at the "B-level" comedy club, as the comedic wolves I was rolling with wanted to stop in there for a bit. Of course, this being Pittsburgh and the club requiring paid admission and drink minimums, the show was cancelled. These clubs need to bite the bullet and spend some real coin on promotion and advertising, and maybe, just maybe, not charge eight dollars for chicken fingers. The best, hardest hitting, jokes aren't always on stage at a comedy club.

The Government is cutting interest rates again today. Great idea. Let's all take on even more fucking debt.

I'm sitting here, and I realize that I don't even have a slight headache. According to my wallet, I drank about fifteen dollars worth of beer yesterday, in addition to the shots I bought Rocco. I didn't even smoke any cigarettes! Another flawless victory.

I'm totally making fake steak sandwiches for lunch today. I'm not sure if my stomach can get an erection, but if it could, it certainly has one right now.

Even though this is based on a book series aimed at teenage girls, many of whom are probably fat with braces and acne, I'm still kind of excited about seeing this movie. I love vampires!


Rolling Stone magazine/Obama campaign tool changed it's format and layout. It now looks and feel more like a rock and roll version of People, and seems even less legit. It's a parody of what it once was, and what it once meant. I read an interview of one of the fucking Jonas brothers talking with Elvis Costello and I wanted to kill myself.

You hear a lot about bands from New York. Many are heavy on style, but sorely lack significant substance. This is not one of them. This is the only one that matters at the moment.


It says six dollars, but no one's ever there.-BK