(The ‘Eek!Cards’ explan.)
Permalink | No Comments(The ‘Eek!Cards’ explan.)
Permalink | No CommentsLong-term fans — if that’s actually a “thing” around here these days — may remember my last foray into sketch comedy in June of 2012. That was a radio gig and live show with Deli Juices, featuring hilarious gents Kris Earle and Winston Kidd.
It was a great time. A treat. A veritable hoot.
So we’re doing it again. Dun DUN DUUUNNN!!
“Tune in, kids. The Juice is re-loosed.”
That’s right; we’re in the planning stages of Deli Juices, Episode Two (or, if you prefer, Electric Juicaloo), and to celebrate, I’d like to share some related materials.
First, Kris was kind enough to host me this evening on his critically-acclaimed radio show Time Travel on WMFO, Tufts University freeform radio.
Last summer, we debuted our final set of sketches live on Time Travel, and tonight we reminisced with a rebroadcast — minus one unfortunate bleepable moment I caused — complete with insider commentary. Like a director’s cut, or something. I’m talking real Hollywood shit, here, people. Follow the ‘Time Travel’ link above to April 3rd archive for a listen.
Meanwhile, we’ve got a new set to write. And edit. And crumple into little balls and drink a lot and stomp on, and then salvage something usable from the carnage, hopefully. To that end, I’m writing some new sketches, and here’s one of them. Maybe you’ll hear it on ‘MFO soon, or see us hamming through it at some Boston-area comedy night. Tune in, kids. The Juice is re-loosed.
Quotas
[KRIS and WINSTON sit close together; CHARLIE sits a few feet away. Kris has a clipboard.]
WINSTON: Well, everyone was very positive. We’d love to bring you on board. Kris here from our HR department just has a few questions.
CHARLIE: Sure, go ahead.
[Kris consults his clipboard through the questions, checking off boxes as he goes.]
KRIS: Okay. So you’re between the ages of 18 and 65…
CHARLIE: Right.
KRIS: U.S. Citizen?
CHARLIE: Yes.
WINSTON: Any other passports? Dual citizenships? Secret aliases?
CHARLIE: Um… no.
[Kris and Winston are a little disappointed.]
KRIS: How about prison time? Committed any felonies?
CHARLIE: No.
WINSTON: Even local jail would do. Maybe you sassed a cop? Spent a night in the drunk tank?
CHARLIE: I’ve never been to any kind of jail. And I don’t drink.
[Kris and Winston are again disappointed. At ‘I don’t drink’, Kris marks a huge X over the sheet of paper on the clipboard, Xes out the next sheet, and turns the page again.]
KRIS: …okay then. Pregnant?
CHARLIE: I beg your pardon?
KRIS: Any chance you’re pregnant? Even a little?
CHARLIE: No!
KRIS: Right, right, what with the penis and all. Penis, right?
CHARLIE: Uh… yes.
WINSTON: Just the one?
CHARLIE: Last time I checked.
WINSTON: Darn it.
[Kris and Winston are getting exasperated. The questions come rapid-fire now.]
KRIS: Any tribal tattoos? Inflatable doll fetishes? Do you cut yourself?
CHARLIE: Why would-
WINSTON: Are there Bolivians in your family? Are any parts of your body registered as lethal weapons?
CHARLIE: Wait-
KRIS: Are you psychic? Do you have scurvy? Have any of your grandparents ever had sexual relations with a bear?
CHARLIE: All right! Hold it right there! What are all these questions for?
WINSTON: Ah, it’s these hiring quotas. We’re at our limit of ‘regular Joes’ we can hire, so we’ve got to fit people into certain categories to bring them in.
KRIS: Is there anything at all that makes you special?
CHARLIE: Well… I’m left-handed.
[Kris consults another clipboard page.]
KRIS: Nah, we’re set for lefties.
CHARLIE: (demonstrating) I can roll my tongue.
WINSTON: Hrm. Can it touch your forehead?
[Charlie tries. Clearly, it’s not happening.]
WINSTON: Sorry. Anything else?
CHARLIE: Um… I can juggle.
KRIS: Knives or chainsaws?
CHARLIE: Little rubber balls.
[Kris and Winston look at each other, unsure.]
WINSTON: Let’s see it.
[Charlie pulls out three rubber balls and juggles.]
KRIS: What do you think? Can we sell him as carny folk?
WINSTON: Nah, too many teeth. How about a gypsy?
KRIS: It works. We’ll say he’s half Romanian. And a quarter grizzly.
WINSTON: Great! From now on, your name is Milosh, you live in your car and you only eat salmon. Welcome aboard!
Permalink | No Comments(The ‘Eek!Cards’ explan.)
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
It’s that time of year again — when millions of small children are flung, yelping and mortified, onto bright yellow buses bound for homeroom purgatories across the nation.
In other words: back to school.
Personally, I haven’t attended school in years. I last had class back in the mid-90’s (when striped shirts were the rage), but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the season. Why should the Social Studies schlubs and Gymboree brats have all the fun? If we post-schoolers want to relive our halcyon — or not-so-halcyon — academic days in a bout of rat race-induced nostalgia, that’s our perogative. It’s as natural as pizza square cafeteria lunches, or wedgies in gym class.
But we’ll need some help. That’s where our old tutor Amazon comes in. Check out the “learning aids” below — and my actual Amazon reviews of all the products — to put the rock back in your schoolhouse. Take notes if you need to; this material will be on the test.
My Amazon Review:
I don’t have a proper school desk — nor would my adult hindquarters likely fit into one without a weeklong fast, three quarts of Crisco and an oversized shoehorn. So I bought this lap desk to give some semblance of the old schoolhouse experience.
I used the desk on my couch, and it worked well for a while. It holds a book in place in roughly the same manner as a real desk — or a large block of wood, for that matter — might. But I’d forgotten how exhausting learning can be, which is where this lap desk really stands out. After ten minutes of slogging through “Intro to Classical Philosophy,” I was exhausted. So I flipped the desk over, pulled up my knees and had a nice nap on the cushy beanbag side.
I snore, therefore I am.
I don’t remember anything I read, but I did have a dream where Zeno and Socrates walked exactly halfway into a bar and ordered hemlock martinis from some guy sitting in a cave. Which is about as far as I ever got with that material, so I’m calling this a “win.”
My Amazon Review:
I’m not QUITE old enough to have attended school where these handheld bells were in use, but it still reminds me of the old class bells telling us when to go to class, or to leave class, or to march our delinquent butts to detention hall. Again.
I’ve taken to using my bell in much the same way — to announce transitions from one place to another. I ring it when I leave the house for work, and again when I head for home at the end of the day. I ring it at noon for a lunch break, and approximately three hours later when my “recessiesta” is over. And, naturally, I ring it before and after bathroom breaks.
My wife argued the last point, saying that schools don’t actually have preset potty periods scheduled. But I pointed out the ten minutes usually reserved between classes, and maintained that I’m acting in the spirit of the schedule design. She countered that if I “ring that godforsaken thing one more time because you have to go at two in the morning, I’m going to cram it where no one will ever hear it again.”
I think she may have a point. I guess you’re never too old to learn, after all.
My Amazon Review:
I gave a lot of thought to what was missing the most from my old school experience, and found the answer readily: there was no drinking. This flask-in-a-book takes care of that omission with the promise of a much-needed tipple after a long day spent conjugating verbs or memorizing times tables or climbing that stupid rope in the gym.
Since I’m not ACTUALLY going back to school, I decided to take it to work instead. It’s a bit of a harder sell in an office environment — they don’t actually assign book chapters as homework to read at my desk, unfortunately — but I’m making do. The hardest part is keeping the book in front of my face when I duck in for a secret swig or three. I think people may be getting suspicious; my boss keeps asking why I bring “Wuthering Heights” to every staff meeting, and why I end up passed out under the table by the end.
There is no one in the room who is NOT fooled by this brilliant ruse. NO ONE.
Clearly, I need to order a second book, to throw him off the scent.
My Amazon Review:
I never had a really hot teacher back in school, so I thought I’d shoot for one now. I bought this outfit and convinced — read: BEGGED — my wife to wear it for some steamy fun. She finally agreed, and put it on for me last weekend. I told her I’d been a baaaaad student, and needed some extra time with the teacher to catch up. She slid behind me with a stern look on her face, leaned in close to my ear and whispered…
“It’s clear you’re not applying yourself, mister. You read the next three chapters of Moby Dick, and I want a report on my desk first thing in the morning discussing the symbolism and themes as they relate to contemporary American society. Now march!”
Then she scheduled a meeting with my parents and made me sit in the corner for talking during “quiet time.” Now I’ve got detention for a week, and a huge Latin test coming up. Why couldn’t I have gone for the “Naughty Nurse” costume instead?
Yep, that’s the school experience, all right. Just the way I remember it.
Join in on the prank! Click the links to see each real-life Amazon review, then mark them as “helpful” so they rise to the top of the list on Amazon. Or click here to read and rate the entire library of Zolton reviews!
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