Las Vegas Sumo

I'd Rather Be Doing This

2008-04-14T17:55:00.002-04:00

ain't i funny

2008-03-04T21:31:00.002-05:00

Following the links from a piece of mail in my inbox, I came upon a post on Gawker - a trying to be snarky/relevant response to a response to a response to Christopher Hitchens’ article entitled "Why Women Aren't Funny”. First of all, who is Christopher Hitchens, why are people still reading Vanity Fair and why is anyone dignifying his article with any type of response? Who cares how men, in general, supposedly feel about female comics? Personally, I can’t say that it has any affect on me and what I am doing, nor should anyone allow it to affect what they are doing in the business.

I have been performing stand up in one capacity or another for about five years in New York City. It has been a long slow road but I feel that things are beginning to pay off. I have managed to graduate from doing bringers, to getting booked and have even gotten to produce and MC some great shows. I feel I am earning the respect of my peers and treating my material and audiences right. So far, I have gotten out of comedy what I have put into it and I don’t think growing a pair would have gotten me any further. On the contrary, I think it might have hurt my performance as I tried to squeeze by on the fact that most of the audience were like me- this is assuming I was both male and white – and just get up there sans punch line or originality and do what many others are doing namely being white and male and complaining.

What I think actually hurts women starting out in comedy is the fact that female and female friendly audiences are scared away by what can be seen in most clubs on any given night. Why would a woman or anyone who likes women want to pay upwards of $15 (not including the required drink minimum) to sit through an hour and half of “my nonexistent girlfriend is a bitch”, “all women are bitches (because none of them will sleep with me), “I can’t get a bitch”, “can you bitches tell how deep in the closet I am, bitch?” and the ever popular “bitches bitch bitching bitch” from a man who more often than not looks like he habitually sleeps in his clothing?

I once left a show at Caroline’s when the headliner started complaining about how his girlfriend wanted to spend too much time with him AND even have conversations with him. At first it was somewhat funny and then it became clear that he was just another misogynist and that there was probably no girlfriend; he just wanted to complain about women for the few cheap laughs he got. Why would a female comic want to go on stage after that kind of crap? Why should she have to? We should set up a dating service for these guys just so they can get some new premises. If you can’t understand how this creates and uncomfortable situation just replace the word bitch with “nigger’ or “faggot” the word women with African-Americans or homosexuals. It’s a hostile environment, not really what I am looking for when I go to see a comedy show. When I first started doing bringers I had plenty of girlfriends come to shows – ONCE. I got them back when I started doing all female shows. A lot of club owners and bookers assume that female comics won’t bring in a crowd. Maybe a single female comic won’t pack the , because of the phenomenon cited earlier, but a bunch will.

Another obstacle for female comedy fans is the club atmosphere. Remember, women have higher expectations for going out. We tend not to like bathrooms that resemble outhouses and bars that resemble frat houses. I once worked at a club whose women’s facilities were missing both a floor and a toilet seat and you had to share your drink with a water bug. This does not inspire repeat business. If you clean it, they will come. And when they do come they will order mixed drinks and eat if you can offer an option that does not look like it belongs at a street food vendor’s cart (can you hear the sound of the cash register). But, by all means if you don’t want the scratch keep it a boy’s club.

Another interesting aspect of this “women aren’t funny thing” is race. I would love Mr. Hitchen’s to put his views in Essence and see how far that got. I think the majority of the responses would begin with “who”. I have never gotten the feeling from the white male comics that I have worked with that we, black female comics, were not funny. Maybe it’s because they see us as no competition because we are supposedly going for a different audience or maybe we don’t look like all those girls in high school who wouldn’t sleep with them or because they think saying it would be somehow racist. But, I hope this is due to the way black female comics take a no holds barred approach to their audiences and assume coming on stage that there is a commonality- being that we are all human despite how we behave. We believe, no, we know we are funny – just like we know we are cute - and no one else is going to tell us different.

hate.com

2008-02-15T22:43:00.003-05:00

A friend, who knows I love good satire above most else, sent me a link to a blog called stuffwhitepeoplelike. It was hilarious, almost as hilarious as the comments the postings elicited. First of all I was shocked to learn that so many people were unable to recognize the blog as satire. One would think that the title would be a tip off. Secondly, why are so many self identified white people concerned about how they are viewed as a group ostensibly by other white people (aren’t white people the audience) and why can’t they take a joke? With all the relative power that Americans calling themselves white have enjoyed in the history of this country is there any chance that this blog will bring them down with some well penned observations? Apparently so. Or perhaps they feel that unlike every other group in this country they should not be the butt of jokes, even if they are their own. What cheek! I liked the comments of those attempting to disassociate themselves from the posts claiming that the site was not about their type of white person but really the other type...

Personally, I would love to see a similar website about African-Americans executed in such a manner. Although I may be alone in that because I see little evidence that we as a whole are ready for some much needed self criticism and self examination wrapped in a hard sardonic shell.

I followed a few of the posted comments back to their sources to find out just what sorts of people were offended by the site. One of the sites, a re-reporting site, was particularly disturbing. The author in addition to being an overt racist and a poor writer is a coward; he does not identify himself on the site. His posts are limited to retelling news events that show black people in a particularly harsh manner. For example one item features a story about a black mother who beat her infant to death for soiling his diaper. He pegs the site as

“a political and social commentary blog which may include some conservative content not suitable for everyone: especially not liberal blacks and jews — Phhht!”

I am not sure what “Phhht” is supposed to mean, perhaps it is the sound of the air seeping out of his fatuous head and I am unclear as to why “liberal blacks and jews” have been singled out as people who might be offended by this guy’s shtick. Apparently Black conservatives like James McWhorter and Condoleezza Rice (still Black) and Christians, Muslims and those of Eastern faiths might enjoy a story like the timely “Nigger Parenting 101 - Death for Poop!- I know I did.

But not to be outdone, there are even more ignorant people than Mr. closet racist. A look at the comments on his site takes one even further into the world of hate.com. There are actually people who agree with this loon and are willing to put in writing. This freak, iranianforaryans.blogspot.com, also too much of a coward to identify himself has similar blogs targeting Jews and Latinos. Judging from his posts, he is a racist struggling to understand why people don’t want to give him or his cohorts an outlet for fomenting hatred. Go figure? Luckily he can foment for free online and you can email him from his site if you want to tell him how the evil Jews stopped you from getting that Malibu Barbie for Xmas when they killed Jesus.

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what these poor deluded self loathing wanna-be miscreants think, but it sure is amusing to ponder their efforts from the comfort of my apartment snuggled up next to my white husband in our predominantly Jewish community and know that they will never be successful.

and now for something completely different

2008-02-12T22:15:00.003-05:00

I have been oh so busy this past 6 weeks helping with the launch of mainstreet.com that all my creative juices have ceased to flow. So, instead of some snarky (is that what the young folk call it?) commentary, I offer this photo of me with BD Wong from Law & Order. I met him at a Tupperware promo party held at the 40/40 club and thrown by Ice-T. That's right Ice-T. He did say that Tupperware was "gangsta". I don't disagree.

I'se 'Cept Yo 'Pology

2008-01-03T14:13:00.000-05:00

208 years after New Jersey passes its gradual emancipation law New Jersey lawmakers are considering giving a formal apology to African Americans for the state's role in the institution of slavery.

I’se say, “No, prah-blem ole massa. I’s gonna accep’ yo ‘pology.”

Well it’s about time. It looks like things are finally turning around for us African Americans. Just last year the NAACP held funeral rites for the dreaded N word and black women even got an apology from pickled shock jock Don Imus. No one can overlook the serious ramification of those crucial political actions.

Perhaps once New Jersey apologizes, following the lead of Southern states like Maryland and Mississippi (both bastions of racial harmony and fiscal, political and social equality) New Jersey blacks and whites[1] can begin to live in racial harmony the way they were meant to. I know Trenton can’t wait.

I am going to keep my ears glues to the radio to hear if they make an affirmative vote to apologize. Once the intent to apologize has been issue we united African Americans can contact our appointed leader, Al Sharpton, and ask him to make himself available to accept the apology. If he is too busy getting his perm touched up or attending to constituents I understand that both Salt and Pepa of the eponymous female rap duo both live in Short Hills. They haven’t been busy lately and might do the honors. Frankly, they need the work.

I am glad and I know that the taxpayers of the state of New Jersey are also glad that their lawmakers are using the time for which they are handsomely paid debating such important matters and not whiling the time away with the coming budgetary, educational and healthcare crises. At very least, post-apology the NJ state government can begin to unravel the web of welfare and affirmative action programs oppressing the black community as they will no longer be relevant. Words and gestures are better more comforting and much more fiscally prudent. Perhaps when they have finished healing all wounds within the Black community they can begin to make amends with Native Americans perhaps let them open a few casinos.

One can dream.

[1] By whites I mean authentic whites, you know - Anglo Saxons. By the way,others (Asians, Latinos, Mediterranean, Slavic types etc.) probably weren’t on the scene yet and so can continue to hate on blacks without apology. Good news.

2008-01-02T19:40:00.000-05:00

LIVE UPTOWN!
(way, way uptown)
Monday January 7^t, 2008 7pm

An Beal Bocht Café
445 W 238^th St.
No Cover. No Minimum.

Hosted by Jacquetta Szathmari with
Emmy Rivera
Emily Epstein
Clea Wilson
Rich Shultis
April Brucker
Ken Perlstein
& Headliner Sassi Keegan

Jacquetta Szathmari and Sassi Keegan bring the funny uptown - to Riverdale. Yes, the train goes there. So get out your metrocard and come find out why it is funnier in the Bronx!

Directions

#1 to 238^th street. Walk west 2 blocks and up several flights of stair. The bar is at the top of the stairs on the north side of the street.

A train to 207^th st. Take the #7 bus (Riverdale) heading north. Exit at 238^th and Riverdale avenue. Walk 2 blocks east on 238^th st. The bar is on the north side of the street. Note: a black cab from 207^th is about $8-10. You can haggle.

Marathon Music

2007-12-30T22:35:00.000-05:00

The end of the year means TV marathons. So far this holiday season I have subjected my brain to far more than the recommended dose of, the Met RX Strongest Man in the World Competition Highlights (go Pudzianowski !), the Deadliest Catch.. As much as I love the rare sight of watching men do manly stuff without harming or oppressing I couldn’t make it through more than a few episodes of either show because of the recent inclusion of foux hard core/ faux metal soundtracks. There is no more incongruous accompaniment to a man pulling up a trap full of Alaskan crabs while dodging a rogue wave in the Bering Sea than a “song” by Korn that sounds like it should be on the soundtrack of the sequel to The Crow. I should be listening to the roar of the ocean. Isn’t that why I have surround sound? Can’t I have a moment’s peace without being assaulted by bands whose man idea of antidisestablishmentarianism is to reverse the letters in their names and wear clown makeup while complaining about either sex or freedom or sexual freedom? I found the answer was no when I switched over to the Met RX competition for relief only to find that they were attempting to flog a soundtrack between events. When I am watching a 700 pound Swede fling ten 50 lb kegs over a fourteen foot high steel wall or his Norwegian counterpart pull a Mac truck with a shoulder harness the last thing I want is a Mastodon tune blaring in my ears. I don’t want a Hatebreed power ballad either. I want to hear the crowd cheering. If I can’t have that at and there must be electric guitars and angst can I at least get some Minor Threat, Metallica, Henry Rollins, or Steve Vai? I guess I am getting old.

Comedy Vs. Big Pharma

2007-12-07T08:53:00.000-05:00

This morning in a strange turn of events I woke up an hour earlier than I had to. It was a simple mistake on my part, I forgot to review my schedule last night before going to bed. Since the main reason for my getting up relatively early is to trek down to Chinatown to have someone stick needles in my extremities fro relaxation I am surprised that I leapt out of bed with such purpose. It appears as though I may have gotten a good night's sleep and was for the first time in weeks well rested.
I have never been good at sleeping. I could never fall asleep easily as a child. Out of frustration I used to bang my head against the mattress in the hopes of knocking myself out. It usually worked before I got a headache. As an adult I substitute watching late night 1 hour dramas for the head banging; the effect is basically the same.
Still last night I managed to fall asleep quickly without a Law and Order (CI of course, I just can't stand the USA generated CI) marathon, booze or a visit from that little dayglo pharma butterfly. So I had to think about what made yesterday different from the days proceeding the sleepless nights. The only difference I could think of was that last night I had a late gig before which I ran 4 miles at the gym. So basically if I want to get a good nights sleep I need to book at least a 7 minute set in a evening comedy show and become a marathon runner.
No problem. Great! Why couldn't that Lunesta have worked?

The Hole In My Knowledge

2007-12-06T16:47:00.001-05:00

I read New York Magazine regularly to give my brain a rest and to get new material. The magazine never fails. In every issue there is something worth poking fun at. This week’s cover was particularly offensive or hilarious depending on your point of view. The cover is a close up photo of a beautiful Asian model lovingly cradling a well manicured foot. Her mouth is dangerously close to the foot and looks as if she is about to give it some sort of happy ending. It’s basically a fetish shot. I was discussing the cover photo with some fellow comedians and one commented that the shot was simply playing on popular Asian stereotypes to sell a cheap rag.

“Fair enough.” I responded but they had gotten it all wrong. I wish my pedicurist was half that sexy. Most of the pedicurists I have had have looked as chewed up and haggard as I do when I bust in there (only from Mon. to Wed. to get the $20 mani/pedi deal). They then proceed to manhandle my hooves like pieces of meat until they mildly resemble feet again. Don’t get me wrong, I get what I pay for and there are other options if I don’t like. I am sure they would tell me both if I voiced that opinion in their shop.

The piece accompanying the cover is what you may expect- and attempt to lend a quasi sociopolitical scholarly angle to the fact that most women neither want to nor could maintain their own hands, feet, brows, bikini line etc to the standards that are set by the beauty industrial complex (aka Big Beauty). At the end of the day, dissertation findings aside, if you can pay someone do something for you which makes life easier you will do so. And yes, yes we know these women are exploited by other women who themselves are probably just narrowly escaping exploitation by exploiting others. Tell us something we don’t know.

The most interesting part of the article, relegated to a side bar, featured a woman who took her exploitative bosses to task and won. But if they had focused on her the article would have been transformative and empowering. Less time would have been wasted (I mean spent) discussing the women who receive the services and one fortunate and well paid soul who really enjoys providing them.

But back to the “tell us something we don’t know….”

Why is the article on page 90 about “You” at Gavin Brown’s Enterprise a review and not an expose? “You” by Urs Fischer is a gallery installation that consists of a hole in the ground. The “artist” spent $250,000 dollars to break through the floor of the gallery to create a 30 by 30 foot hole which reviewer Jerry Saltz upgrades by calling it a crater. I have never seen such an obvious use of a thesaurus in my life. It’s a hole in the ground! A hole that can’t even be sold to the ridiculously rich, money laundering, “I’ll by a carcass in formaldehyde if you say its art” crowd.

I hope someone falls in “You” and everyone gets sued. Or better yet I hope it rains and “You” becomes a puddle and then someone falls in it and everyone gets sued. In any case someone needs to get sued because there is some serious fraud going on. Mr. Saltz then has the gall to compare this work to actual art when he should be comparing it to, well, a hole in the ground, which it is. Apparently making holes is Fisher’s shtick. Nice work if you can get it. The real work of art here is the writer’s use of language to try to bring substance to “You” although really someone ought to sue him as well. Just because. This is what happens when people have no incentive to make money or contribute to society. I think the terrorists may have won.

PS Stop Killing Trees

2007-12-05T13:33:00.000-05:00

In the past week I have been trying to rid myself of junk email. I have unsubscribed from the dozen or so websites that I authorized to send me updates because they send too much mail too often. How often does Sephora have to tell me about a new lip gloss? Do I need a Borders coupon everyday? Is the new Comedy Central line up really new? Do I care?

At least junk email is easily disposed of which is more than I can say for regular junk mail. This holiday season I have been inundated with junk snail mail from all sources. I regularly receive appeals to give my expendable income to stop no less than ten different ailments ranging from cancer to cleft lips. Daily I receive catalog from companies resembling upscale dollar stores who sell a variety of Chinese manufactured item destined for landfills. I even get free short term magazine subscriptions from periodicals who obviously do not know what demographic I occupy. To keep up the junk correspondence here is what I have to say to today's junk mail senders.

Dear Rolling Stone,
Your magazine is a rag which is why you are sending it to me for free after I ignored your offers of increasingly cheap subscriptions. The Led Zeppelin picture on the cover made me think it was a mis-delivery by the AARP monthly mag. I get them by accident sometimes.
PS I don't buy music, why would I buy a magazine about it? People read online now. Stop killing trees.

Dear Sarah Lawrence College,
The amount of money you have wasted on heavy jewel toned card stick printed with toxic ink is far greater than the amount of money I will give you, which is to say I will not give you any money. Your choice of stationary reminds me that you are doing fine. Next time send a postcard; it easier to recycle.
PS I am still paying off the student loans I had to take out after you cleverly cut my financial aid in my final year. People give online now. Stop killing trees.

Dear Hammecher Schle-whatever,
As much as I love looking at the ridiculous items in your catalog (Ipod dogs etc) I have yet to buy anything from you. Have you seen Sharper Image? Somebody is biting on somebody's style...
PS People shop online now. Stop killing trees

Dear WAMU,
Could the money you are squandering on surplus mailings and the staff that create them be used to increase the thin interest rate on my accounts?
PS People bank online now. Stop killing trees.

Coffee Direct

2007-11-15T12:51:00.000-05:00

I was looking for a coffee place in midtown east that was cheap and no nonsense. Because I am unfamiliar with that part of town I went to www.nymag.com for a recommendation. I narrowed my search by neighborhood, type of restaurant and cost; the third of the criteria shortened the list from five options to four. I had to choose between a kosher, non-dairy, meat free restaurant (I need milk in my coffee), a salad place I vaguely remember someone called a yuppie scum lunch time pick up spot, a place where "Conde-Nasties" pretend to digest whole foods and a place run by an investment house. I went with the lesser of the four evils.

So, today I am meeting a friend for coffee at the ING Direct cafe. That's right they have a cafe... in Manhattan... and they proudly serve Peets coffee and advice on investment strategies. When I called to find out if it were in fact a true cafe they tried to give me advice on banking right upfront. I am imagining barristas with their Series 7s and waiters who leave you tips... on the stock market that is. I hope the theme of the decor is fat dividends. ING even offers free coffee coupons to new customers, although I am not sure if they mean new banking customers or new cafe customers. Free coffee is free coffee, I just hope I can get out of there without being convinced to switch my accounts from Fidelity , who by the way don't even offer bagels in the office. Maybe I can get a copy of the WSJ since my delivery guy seems to be on strike.

Lost Baggage

2007-11-08T18:58:00.000-05:00

I was reminded of my former obsession with luggage when I saw an antique leather case doubling as a side table on a home decorating show. Somewhere in my mother’s home, possibly succumbing to mildew, is a similar case purchased from a second hand store either in Seattle or Oakland. Throughout my early twenties I bought suitcases old and new. I searched Salvation Army Stores and second hand shops for vintage leather cases and carry-ons and decorated my room with them. One winter to make money enough to return to college I worked for bags store in a local discount strip mall. The sting of working retail was softened by my affection for the merchandise. I thoroughly enjoyed arranging and rearranging the suitcase displays and loved telling customers about our products. My sales record was phenomenal and I used some of the money from my last paycheck to buy a top of the line roll aboard with my employee’s discount. I dreamed of one day owning a full five piece set of vintage Louis Vuitton trunks. I thought I was going somewhere.

Evil Smurf

2007-11-07T15:47:00.000-05:00

I have always been a scaredy cat with an overactive imagination. As a child I had nightmares that every night Evil Smurf was standing just outside my bedroom door waiting to get in and bite me. Unfortunately for him, this blue devils's dimensions were exactly one inch larger than that of my door frame. The fact that he could not get in the room, I imagined, made him so angry that both his eyes and razor sharp incisors were blood red. It seemed logical. As long as I stayed in bed half suffocating under the covers I was safe. If I had to use the bedroom in the middle of the night I would violently fling myself out of bed across the hallway to the bath room and click on the light. The trip was about 5 feet total but it seemed long and perilous. Once in the bathroom I had to wait for what seemed like a full minute as the florescent lights came on. First they would hum and pop, scaring the Smurf away, and finally light the room. The bathroom was a Smurf free zone. On the return journey I always made sure to flush and run at the same time; the flushing sound would cover my footsteps and distract the blue menace buying me enough time to get back to bed and safely under the covers. The the covers, door frame, florescent light and the flush were magic items that kept me safe.

I had safety rituals and protective totems for every imaginary monster including the local hillside dwelling yeti, the fox head peeping tom who could pass through window screens and the frozen leviathan from John Carpenter's "The Thing" living under the hall floorboards. Every night I was running through the house from room to room just to stay alive. As I got older the monsters only got more sophisticated. Large creatures developed the ability to shrink in order to get into closets, chest and even dresser drawers. They knew exactly where to lurk where I could only catch a glimpse of them. I longed for gullible Evil Smurf who was brazen enough to let himself be seen in full and got scared away by loud plumbing. I was unhappy that monster pathology had somehow changed.

As an adult I am usually able to control these kind of fears or at least I don't have as much time to indulge them- usually. Yesterday I was in the shower when I noticed that the door was open slightly. Neither my dog nor my husband were at home so I had the radio on to provide background noise. All of a sudden I got paranoid that there was a zombie, a midget zombie or possibly and an evil monkey zombie just outside the door. (I had seen at least 4 zombie movies in the past week and i have always hated primates- they have hands). I tried to peer through the cracks nonchalantly to see if anyone or anything were there. Then I thought - If he knows I am looking he will reposition himself so as not to be seen, let me just continue to shower casually.
Wait, what the f*ck is wrong with me. Am I crazy. Has my line of thinking gone to crazy town? I castigated myself for my thoughts. I had to get ahold of myself and regain some logic.

If there were a zombie of any kind out there- simian or otherwise- why would it care if I saw it? If that thing is going to attack, it will attack. I'm in the shower, I got nothing, no defenses, not even a loofah on a stick. Then I thought maybe he had a plan, wanted to add some finesse to the attack. I put myself in his shoes (paws) and tried to think how I would plan it out- a thinking man's murderous brain craving zombie spider monkey.
By the time I had figured it out the shower was over; I had lost interest and guess so had he. When I got out there was as always no one there, not even a sign.

Aloha Niggers

2007-11-05T14:33:00.000-05:00

After participating in a conference on interracial dating I met with my husband and his friends for to discuss current events and finally got the full story about Dog the Bounty Hunter’s racist rant. Dog, The Bounty Hunter is mindless, fairly nonviolent show starring redneck with a criminal past, minimal education who hunts down minor criminals on the mean streets of The Big Island. Who could he call a nigger in Hawaii? I am not aware of a black community in Hawaii and I had never seen any black people on the show or even any dark skinned Latinos. Maybe he hurled the N word at some vacationing African Americans. Highly unlikely. Perhaps he was using it, like so many New Yorkers, as a synonym for man, dude or guy or maybe he was using it as a term of endearment, for the guys on his running crew. Could it be that he was joking around; despite what liberals and scholars say an elegantly placed “nigger please!” or “what’s up my niggers” can be quite comic. I tried to think of a scenario in which he would get the N word out Hawaiian style but came up empty, so I went hypothetical with it: If he had said it why oh why would anyone let it get captured on tape? Any such tape would be immediately destroyed to protect the show and the salaries who work on the show. It’s not exactly DVD extras material.

Finally, I let our friend share the actual story with us. Apparently, his son taped a phone conversation in which Dog did refer to his son’s girlfriend as the offending epithet multiple times. His son then turned the tape over to the media who made a field day out of it. Well some made a field day out of it while other fellow racists in the media rallied around Dog to try to salvage the damage he had done to himself. There is no way that he could have written the hollow apology he read on FOX; it was both eloquent and grammatically correct. I liked the finesse of adding an “aloha” to the black community. That means a lot to us. Can we really accept an apology from a man who doesn’t even love his own son enough restrain from verbally attacking the woman he loves with the ugliest word in our cultural lexicon? You have got to have strong convictions backed by a lot of hate to say nigger the way he did. If he must apologize he should do so for simply getting caught which is probably what he is really sorry about. Like Michael Richards and Mel Gibson, he can let his money comfort him until this whole thing is relegated to the back pages by some silly celeb’s sexcapades or until someone else says nigger. This should take about a fortnight.

The perverse thing is that everyone is so worried about Dog as if he’s any kind of victim. Some people even suggested that we should pray for him (we should pray that some brother doesn’t kick his ass on the streets) This is his creation, I say fuck him and let him stew in it. I feel concern for his son and applaud him for what he did. It was obviously a very difficult decision to make to expose his father as a bigot. It certainly must be embarrassing and I wonder how the girlfriend feels. I have a similar situation with my husband’s father and I only wish I could get him on tape proclaiming his racism. It thrills me when racists come clean and even more so when they say nigger because there is no going back. This kind of bigot outing is vital to a society which is constantly trying to sweep racism under the carpet. This country is racist, it was founded on racist principles and is unlikely to have shaken them off in a scant few centuries. Our public figures’ speech and behavior as well as our responses to them merely reflect this reality.

Real TV for Women

2007-10-31T18:19:00.000-04:00

Last night I watched the Oh! Network for the first time- and totally by accident. It was late. It was early morning hours of Halloween and I wanted to watch a decent non coed-slasher scary movie. After flipping through the dials and having my low brow senses assaulted by “entertainment” such as Dracula 3000 and Halloween XX I was delighted to see that the second installment of the Resident Evil Franchise was on. What real woman doesn’t love an ass kicking female protagonist? Generally I despise supermodels, or even minor models, turned actress but I can handle Milla J because she doesn’t try to tackle dialogue. She basically runs, jumps and delivers quick successions of blows to her CG opponents. The story aspect of the film is kept to a minimum. After watching for a few minutes a bubbly pink logo appeared at the bottom of the screen; I was watching the Oxygen network and didn’t even realize it.

I had always avoided Oh! figuring that since its only real competition was the Lifetime (TV for battered white women) Network the programming would be similar. Au contraire. During the commercial break in addition to scores of weight loss, yeast infection, lotion and birth control ads they ran a series of vignettes featuring local female comics explaining what do say and how to react to a bad kisser. They were quite funny and very realistic. I actually paid attention instead of muting the TV like I usually do. After the movie ended at 3am I was still unable to sleep so I lingered in front of the set to see what was on next. The next show began as normal, a nice looking young woman came on to a generic low budget talk show set. I assumed it was some kind of infomercial or a feed from HSN. My interest waned and I began to tidy up the room. It was way past my bedtime. I picked up some empty plates and glasses and took them to the kitchen. When I returned to finish cleaning off the coffee table I noticed that another young woman had come on the set and she was talking to the host about feeling les than comfortable buying certain items. Then a web address appeared at the bottom of the screen- www.shoperotic.com .

Well, well, well. The two women proceeded to pull out and candidly discuss the purchase and usage of various vibes, dongs, double dongs and strap-ons as if it were a Martha Stewart show on cake decorating. They knew their stuff. They even had a phone number for women to call if they wanted to speak only to female phone representatives and the host made frequent assurances about the discretion of item delivery. The prices were good, the merchandise top of the line (so I’ve heard…), the whole outfit was very impressive. Now, that’s TV for women.

I Heart Candy Corn

2007-10-30T21:30:00.000-04:00

For me Halloween is not about SamHain and the thinning of the veils between our world and the spirit world. It is not about parading around in a fishnetted sexy costume version of a typically female profession, woodland creature or comic book character. Its about Brach's candy corn . (Brach's makes the only acceptable brand. Please don't waste my time with the cellophane bagged no name variety with the stapled paper on top. )
I love seasonal candies - candy corn, peeps and the weird chewy holiday candy with the Xmas tree in the middle. I like the idea that their availability is limited and that they come in small quantities.
Having been on vacation for the better part of October, I had totally forgotten that Halloween was approaching. It took me a few minutes last Saturday to figure out that the skanky looking women on the subway car we in fact in costume and not working. In any case at 8:45 tonight all of a sudden I got a craving for candy corn. I made an announcement about it and my husband, G agreed to accompany me on a trek around Riverdale in search of the tri-colored triangular treat. We didn't have to go far; in this town with the current demographic drugstores are plentiful. There were a few bags left and they were only 99 cents. I remember them being much more expensive perhaps Brach's has fallen on hard times.

Ansible Online

2007-10-29T17:41:00.000-04:00

An ansible is a hypothetical machine, capable of superluminal communication, and used as a plot device in science fiction literature. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ansible

I am a creature of habit and extremely risk averse in every aspect of life including my choice in reading material. Event the causal reader of this blog knows that I read the WSJ everyday- even their crappy weekend edition- and that I eschew the reading of fiction. I especially do not enjoy science fiction, so I was surprised that Orson Scott Card’s Speaker of the Dead was able to consume more than a few of my at-the-beach honeymoon days. Speaker is the second part of a trilogy involving a central character trying to reverse the effects of a xenocide (that’s right Xen) that he unwittingly committed as a child. In any case, it is years in the future and the human races has spread like locusts to approximately one hundred worlds in our universe and is one of only three known sentient species. While the human race in the book has managed to master space travel they have yet to discovered how to travel faster than the speed of light AKA time travel. And thank goodness because that is where I draw the line. The are two things I cannot work with in a Sci-fi piece, one is time travel and the other is robots with human emotions. I can take anything grossly oversized, aliens of all sorts, smart viruses, computers gone haywire and hell bent on human destruction, changelings, multiple comets heading towards earth, evil drows, Cheney… whatever nasty fantastical thing might appear on a sci-fi tv original or be in a sci-fi book club collection. I can take it, but something about time travel and moody robots just turns me off.

The idea of an ansible however interests me greatly. It sounds like a kind of smart internet that uses space particles instead of fiber optic wiring to instantaneously transfer information between terminals that may be decades of light years away. And it never breaks down.

In the novel, a colony of possibly renegade possible revolutionary earthlings is considering (I am in the third book , Xenocide, and still don't know the outcome) severing communication with the rest of the colonized worlds, including the motherland, by disconnecting from the ansible. One figure remarks that without that connection they would be utterly alone. At that moment I thought – So what. They are already a whole world surely they could make a go of it. They wouldn’t really be alone. Puny humans.

I thought of this heartfelt response again while I was scrambling around on the floor cursing my half an hour loss of internet connection. Literally, I felt I couldn’t get anything accomplished without it.

Puny human.

11/26 @ New World Stages TONY LOUNGE

2007-10-28T02:52:00.000-04:00

Thanks Vicki!

Laugh Out Loud @ 10pm
Time Out New York Lounge @ New World Stages
340 West 50th, (between 8th and 9th)
Saturday, October 27th

Starring:

Jacquetta Szathmari from Comix!
Shawn Hollenbach and Jenny Rubin from MAX Show!
Blanca Dominguez from Don't Tell Mamas!
Helen Hong from E! Entertainment!
Stephanie Sine from the Duplex!
and musical guest Wendy Ho!
Hosted by Vicki Ferentinos

Not Mold but Mildew

2007-10-27T13:41:00.000-04:00

Whenever something “goes wrong” for me in New York I have to remind myself that I did not move here because this is a good place to live but because it has enough people with expendable income to pay me to tell jokes.

Last Tuesday I returned from a 3 week honeymoon/vacation in the Carribean. Weeks before I left I was already dreading the return. I was going to places that were sunny clean and compared to NYC stress free. I would be eating food that was fresh and delicious instead of pretentious, concept and PR driven - food that did not need to be accompanied by a celebrity sighting or an article by someone with dubious kitchen experience but with an axe to grind against anyone who dared to open a restaurant. For 21 plus days I would be spared the gory details of the celebutante set and would not have to take spotty dignity-usurping public transportation or see dirty starving “artists” or see the word tastemaker. When it rained I would not have to worry that the next puddle I stepped in might be a dangerous mix of city waste and DNA. I was unlikely to encounter the basic “why do I have to have this shitty job” aggression and petty hipster faux underclass angst that is sadly a part of New York life. I knew that even after just a fortnight I would be spoiled making my return to Gotham seem like a prison sentence the moment I set foot in that excuse of a transport hub called JFK.

I spent a great part of my last week away trying to think happy thoughts about the city. Still high on The Four Hour Work Week, given to me by the one person I know who has a chance to implement its strategies, I mentally made lists of how I would simplify my life when I got back in order to achieve my goals of being a fulltime entertainer and a achieve world domination or at least a fat market share. If I just kept that in mind I would be fine I thought. Stay positive, visualize… all that quasi/pseudo psych crap.

Then I smelled the mold. Actually the managing agent told me it was mildew as mold doesn’t smell. Phew! Well now I feel better.

Sometime while G and I were sunning ourselves on one of the Riviera Maya’s most self conscious beaches amidst the preening blue eyed light skinned Mexican nouveau riche (I’m guessing they were not the descendants of the Maya who culture is so aggressively used for marketing purposes but those of the conquistadors whom they pretend to vilify) pools of water were making their way from an overflowing tub a floor above us through our ceiling and then to our floor in an attempt to reach the basement. Welcome home.

The roaches love it!

This is not the first time this has happened to me in New York, but this I own the mildewed damp and rotting apartment. And it is also the first time that the apartment is my place of work.

If only it would stop raining.

The honeymoon endeth

2007-10-25T23:45:00.000-04:00

... and now back to comedy.

Hola

2007-10-14T12:38:00.000-04:00

las vegas sumo, having just gotten hitched, is on hiatus in Jamaica and Mexico and will return on October 25 with a full account.
Adios!

Morning Cake Walk

2007-09-10T10:34:00.000-04:00

Every morning I walk my dog dodging the sea of black babysitters who are pushing their cream colored charges up an down the sidewalks of tony Riverdale. For several reasons this mammy parade never ceases to annoy me. The women always look like they are in a daze. I supposed I would be to if I had gone through the pain and hassle of immigration only to become "the help". I can't help but wonder what their children are doing while they are steering little poorly behaved Ian and Abby (much to old to be in a stroller, but becoming accustomed to luxury) 'round the block. At least they aren't as bad off as the women I see dubbed "mother's helpers" who accompany the worlds laziest mothers on local outings trailing three feet behind with baby SUV carriage and baggage in tow. But, you do what you have to do. I just wich they wouldn't avoid eye contact with me. Perhaps they sense my annoyance and perceive it as judgment. Maybe they are just tired. I don't know how they do it.

When I walk around I imagine people are surprised to see me without a white baby in a stroller or holding the hand of a feisty octogenarian in the care of the very people she moved here to get well away from back in the 6os. Very surprised. Even more surprised when they find out that I live here and (gasp) am not even a renter! Because I cannot speak to everyone I have decided that I will get a t-shirt printed reading

I am not a nanny/housekeeper/home health care aid

I can't wait to move. I can't change the negative socio-economic effects on people of color of this country but I still don't want to see it: the ostrich appraoch.

WOW

2007-08-30T12:25:00.000-04:00

Wow, did a whole month go by without a new post? Why am I asking you? Anyway- I am back and by back i mean I am here. I didn't really go anywhere. So you can look forward to some fresh content as I devote myself to producing a post a day. You can hold me to that. In the meantime check out this new bit on video. Warning: Adult Material

Vote Early and Often

2007-07-30T00:37:00.001-04:00

Jacquetta Live at the Laugh Factory

2007-06-24T01:17:00.000-04:00

Tonight I played the Laugh Factory for the first time. If you have not been there, this former pre-Giuliani go-go club still looks like the real thing. The red, black and mirrored interior sports flashing lights and if you use your imagination you can imagine eight balls being snorted off ladies of the evening by wyaward business types- the way 42nd used to roll. The room was awesome and I got a willing audience member to capture my moment on the stage.
Somehow this shot reminds me that I need to get back to writing this blog. Maybe its the rainbow...