More stand-up comedy?

I did stand-up again last night.

It’s only been 1 year, 4 months, 17 days since the last time I went up.

I rehearsed the most for this one and even got a few laffs.

I realized something last night about stand-up comedy:  I genuinely hate it, yet it’s the only thing I have any talent for doing.

Please take what I have to say next lightly:

I hate crowds, I hate bars and bartenders.  I hate booze, it all burns and tastes like rubbing alcohol and is overpriced.  I hate barmaids and their big or small tits.  I hate tipping.  I hate single women, married women and those in between.  I hate single mothers.  I hate other comics. I hate weakness.  I hate memorizing lines. I hate driving to the club.  I hate not knowing what to wear.  I hate drymouth.  I hate the crowd for being dumb, lapping up the same old shit.  I hate black comics for getting a free pass for being black and loud, not funny.  I hate female comics getting laughs cause some guys might think they have a shot.  I hate couples.  I hate the microphone.  I hate the brick wall.  I hate the spotlights.  I hate the dumbass names of comedy clubs.  I hate the cheesy music.  I hate saxophones.  I hate the MC.  I hate the headliner.  I hate 99% of jokes.  I hate relationships and “just broke up with my girlfriend”.  I hate married humor, fat humor, black humor, drug humor, trendy humor, liberal humor, gay humor.  I hate your sex life.  I hate the PA system.  I hate the front row.  And the back row.  And the middle. I  hate the food runners and club food.   I hate hecklers.  I hate heavy silence.  I hate cheap laughs.  I hate going home alone but more than that I hate leaving home.

I hate comedy and I hate God for only giving me half-a-gift for it.

I hate that this rant is over but it’s time to take a shit.

That’s my time, good night.

Fuck you, I work for the aliens

I figured the Beeroness, first mentioned somewhere in this post, would eventually find a stunt cock.

Unfortunately for me, it was her freshly exed-husband’s meat. I’m just bitter she ended her dry spell (what a ride it must’ve been) with the very turd that cost her almost a million dollars to divorce. “What the fuck is wrong with women?” is a question God extra-pretends not to hear.

I swore to the guy relaying this information: “I GUARANTEE you since the divo he’s fucked at least one of the bitches in her circle.”

“I don’t think so. He’s ugly, and they can all find better-looking stunt cocks elsewhere.”

With apologies to my friend, if/when the aliens invade I’ll be the first one to defect to their side, as long as they kill me last after taking over. Aliens may have the tech for me to unscrew the skulls of certain ugly but sane broads and plop their brains into the bodies of other, more desirable women, the off-the-rack nutjobs. Tampering with Ma Nature? Bullshit. Nothing is unholy that works in your favor.

The human is such a predictable, despicable piece of shit. The only thing worse than living among the beasts is knowing their depravity is bottomless. Every fucking day.