Yes!!!! I’m all caught up and hurtin’ bad for some new @RememberThisPod https://t.co/VKZ3tHUvsg
We're in the middle of an angry and poisonous week, so I'll take whatever small graces I can. Like the local artist… https://t.co/rUKLTaPwI3
There's a roast of @RichVos available to rent on @Vimeo right now that I've watched twice and nearly laughed myself… https://t.co/WtkWqNkHtS
They passed on him for not being on the same comedic level as Greg Gutfeld and Jesse Watters. https://t.co/2jBCrLyyBF

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Fri, Sep 24


COMEDIANS OF COMEDY SHOOTING DIARY: AN HOUR OF GRACE

@ 12:00 AM

   

I'm staying at maybe one of the most barebones, plastic-cups-and-rough-towels motels in Eugene, and yet they STILL have wireless internet that blankets the premises like the caramel murmurs of a Capri whore. I'm writing, photographing, and sending this from the "veranda" (three wrought-iron picnic tables near the second floor snack machines) an hour before tonight's show.

I've got my feet up on a bizarre lion's head fountain which serves no purpose except to fool me into thinking I'm making the most of the eastern Oregon "magic hour". I'm two pony shots into a bottle of single malt, 15 year-old Balvenie (in-cask date: August 18th, 1988—exactly ONE month after I started stand-up comedy) and almost finished with Gary Giddins' un-put-downable critical biography of Louis Armstrong.

I don't own any Armstrong records. I'm not a fan of jazz. But one chapter into this fucker, and I want to hear everything Dippermouth every recorded. I'm chasing the Balvenie with generic "Classic Selection" spring water.

Beauty and happiness can mug you in an Olive Garden restaurant, I'm starting to realize.


 
 
   
   
   
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