Road Story: Bring out the Septic Tanks!!

“I like fireworks therefore I like Tennessee, since it’s the only state that has more 24 hour firework warehouses than gas stations. If your in TN and want a Roman Candle at 3AM, that’s available, any exit off Interstate-75.”

Not the most brilliant premise but it is accurate, anyway after my comedy show in Bristol, TN, some guys came up to me and said. “Hey man if you like fireworks you should hang with us, because we make our own.” and the guy said this to me, not in a bragging way, but kinda quietly, like you would if you were going to let someone in on some CIA secrets.


So I was interested but scared, I just picture four red-necks taking Government issued septic tanks, filling them with gasoline and using old Rusty Wallace t-shirts as wicks.

I declined the invite but I asked the guy, ‘Why do you make your own?’ and he responded ‘because I'm Patriotic and I hate Kentucky!’


Now I was going to correct the fella,let him know Kentucky was as much part of the U.S. as Tennessee, but seeing that he makes his own rules when it comes to chemistry, I decided he can do the same in regards to geography. So I ended the conversation by jokingly saying ‘Yeah, I hate communists too!’ but he didn't laugh, he just nodded in agreement.

V.I.P.

Never understood V.I.P. sections at nightclubs, suppose to be for important people, but it never is, it’s just whoever spends the most time and money at the bar, and anyone getting wasted til 4 AM 5x’s a week, shouldn’t be encouraged and called ‘important’.

Call it what it is, “That section? It’s reserved for dueche bags that piss away trust funds with their chemical dependencies, and for the lady that has implants the size of volleyballs and every man wants to give her a hug...except her dad.”

Hooters Billboard

Not sure if you’ve seen these billboards on the highways, but they annoy the hell out of me, “Hooters: Where everyone gets to hang w/ a Cheerleader!” Hey awesome, thanks for implying that without your restaurants losers like me, and every other guy in America would never get the chance to hang out with hot chicks.

Thanks Hooters, because people love it when ad campaigns point out how pathetic their lives are, think others should follow your lead.

Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: “Because your living dollar to dollar, and hell you gotta eat something.”

Verizon Wireless: “We got towers everywhere, so when she says she’s going to call and the phones not ringing, blame your personality.”

Bic Razors: “Because hell you were thinking of cutting yourself anyways..”

Road Story: Recruited to beat my own ass

This was a gig was a casino gig in Walker, Minnesota. I was actually on the casino floor, a side stage ten feet away from penny slot machines, next to the only bar, so all the makings of a great comedy obstacle course, perfect!. Anyway all is cool until I mention that I'm from Ohio, then this drunk dude at the bar gets all fired up and runs to the stage area and starts yelling "Bullshit! It's all bullshit!, this guy's not from Walker!! Bullshit, coming into our town and taking our jobs!!"

His outburst lasts a minute and security comes and escorts him away, I make jokes about it whatever. Flash forward an hour later I go back to the bar to get paid and the only one sitting there is that obnoxious drunk dude that accused me of taking his job, and he starts a conversation with me. I'm thinking he is going to apologize, but I am wrong, guy doesn't even recognize me, he just assumes that I'm some local just hanging out. He starts telling me how he is sick of people coming into Walker and taking jobs away from us. He then says to me that he plans on teaching the comedian a lesson, and says that he and I should go find me, so that we can go beat the comedian's ass..

Overall a very strange moment, I had never before been recruited to beat my own ass, and oh by the way he also showed the switchblade that he keeps in his sock.

I leave this dude, figure I'll get away from him before he recognizes me, and when the bar manager gives me my money I informed her of the situation. She tells me not to worry because there is security everywhere, and she says this as she points to the security cameras, which wasn't very reassuring. It just meant that if dude stabs me, they'll film it, and confirm that it happened I guess.

Then just moments later I see five cops dragging this dude out, and I'm thinking 'holy shit' the bar manager, got right on the situation. Turns out no, the drunk dude ended up throwing a cup of ice at a 24-hour food clerk, and when he when security got him he had outstanding warrants.

Turns out the food clerk was from Fargo, ND two hours away from Walker. Damn she was asking for it.

To my first Girlfriend, let's trade your explanation, for my manhood

High School Sweetheart, I had one, Katherine from Westlake, OH, and not such a romantic ending. After a couple months of dating, I got the hard core blow off. No note, no phone calls, nothing! Anyway fast forward ten years, she recognizes my name, and comes out to a comedy show to say 'Hi'. So suppressing my bitterness, and a couple beers later, I have to ask, "Lady, what happened back in the day?"

Well it turns out that on our last date, I took her back to my parents' house, no one was home, and I spent the next four hours showing her my baseball card collection. Yeah, there she was ready for some dry humping, some sloppy hickey exchanges, and some Color Me Bad background music, and I'm showing her Cal Ripken rookie cards.

Then I broke out the Star Wars toy collection, the Millennium Falcon, never got Han Solo laid, not sure why I thought it would work for me? Then to complete the evening I broke out a price guide just to hammer home how much my empire of anti-vagina collectibles were actually worth.

The truth is I forgot that I did do all those things, and I didn't really need that trip down memory lane to emphasize exactly how lame I'm capable of being. The lesson here is simple, if you want to eliminate teen pregnancy don't give boys condemns, just hand him some Michael Jordan basketball cards.

Ronnie Lott: Leaving all on the playing field

In 1985 Ronnie Lott did not want to sit out a football game, so he had the team doctor amputate his finger. That is tough! Tougher than me anyways because I played sports and would quit games just because I ate too much pizza.

But who was that team doctor going around chopping off body parts? I just assume he was a medic recruited from a battlefield in Colonial Williamsburg.

"Doc I pulled my groin."

Well then you take this bottle of whiskey, and I'll go sharpen the saw....and here's a towel to bite down on, because your gonna make some noises and we don't wanna startle the women-folk.."

'Leave it all on the playing field' is a figure of speech to some, and apparently a mission statement to others.

Road Story: Is Greg Allman Still Alive?

November 2003, Roswell, GA, working the Funny Farm, I noticed an autographed picture of Greg Allman behind the desk at the Sheraton. Anyways, I've always been an Allman Brothers fan, so I asked about the photo, and learned that he was a guest a few months earlier, but the staff was still pissed off because apparently he trashed his room.

Now I thought that was damn right awesome! Considering Greg Allman is already a legend, part of the greatest live band in rock history, he's had drug problems, and Cher in her prime. Forty years of rocking out and he still party's like a 22 year-old bass player in a garage band! Kick Ass!!

And the coolest thing about it is he's a 60 year old dude, so you know he doesn't want to trash things, but he realizes his obligation to keep his reputation intact.

I just picture a crotchety old man, watching Mike Wallace, not wanting to move, but thinking.."Ah...Hell, them curtains ain't gonna burn themselves.." Loading up on blood thinning pills to avoid cardiac arrest while flipping over his king size bed, or smashing a television.

Truth is I'm not sure what he did in that hotel room, it could've just been an old man who had a bowel movement that couldn't make it to the can. Or he could just have daily melt downs realizing he is the only original member of his band that is not dead yet. Don't know, don't care. As far as I'm concerned the story will always include Greg Allman, Jack Daniels, and some lighter fluid. Rock on Greg Allman!!