Beating Hearts of the Collective Brothers and Sisters of Oilertown (and surrounding areas)

We must keep the faith.

I once said-- Oilers in 7.

Now I say-- Oilers in 6.

What what?!

Too Old To Punk 'N' Roll

Even though Ritchie already did it, mad shouts and hollers to Lindsay, who I don't care if she's too hung over to go out tonight again, she's going out tonight... again.

And while all the Lindsaytalk, I'd like to mention this: From what I understand, Punk is not a music one likes, it is a music one lives. It's totally a lifestyle, which sometimes makes me feel a little locked out from it. I fee like I could never dedicate enough time to understand some of the more subtle nuances. I'd love for her to by my Punk tutor.

Same goes with Goth, even though it's (seemingly) dying out from the frays of mainstream and back to the underworld, I think the reason why I don't have a Sisters of Mercy CD is because I'd just be a big poseur if I did. And (dangerous territory here), the music overall is a wee campy from what I can tell anyway.

But I musn't talk about what I don't know. Enlighten me.

So this will be my first show with my new take on improv tonight. I (as mentioned in an earlier post) was having a lot of fun for a while, but I think it's time to find the middle ground. Good, loose improv with a mindful braincell on the appropriateness of the improv itself. No panicky-panicky, but no potty-mouthy either.

Or impro... Shoud I be calling it impro? Or is that just the name of the book...

I noticed some people call it Impro, sometimes.

Song of the day: "Return of Django" by The Upsetters. Because everybody should have some happy-go-lucky ska-ish reggae-ish rocksteady-ish Lee "Scratch" Perry in their album collection. And check out the squeaky sax solo. Badass.

Mrs. Jones, Part 2... We're Gonna be Big Stars...

I was reading yesterday's "rant". It needs work.

I guess I'm mostly angry because all the good Oiler stuff has been sold out everywhere. Or I don't really have time to go and get it. You know those window flags I was talking about? I don't have them yet, but I was hoping to get them by today...

Yeah, in retrospect, I'm a follower. And you know what? That's okay.

It's that unnecessary stigma that surrounds "following". It's nothing new to say "It's not the band I hate, it's the fans." It's old hat to say "I used to like (blank), until they sold out." It's not unusual to refer to something as going "commerical".

Hey, I imagine there are people out there that say "Theatresports was cool, until it stared to sell out. I don't go any more."

Actually, those people are more likely refering to the fact that the show "sold out" of tickets.

Guffaw.

But seriously, I have had several of my friends/family say they don't go any more. They say they hate standing in the lines, they hate the growing trend of "funny" suggestions (I don't really see this, if anyone does, please let me know), they hate how crowded it is.

I guess you can't please everyone.

Which awkwardly brings me to a point of sorts; "Following" onstage. Man, that's a tough one. Because sometimes "following" becomes a form of "aping". You know, where you match the other person's energy, emotions, speech patterns, and don't add anything to the scene. There's a way to "ape" and contribute... it's just that if I think any more today, my head will implode.

But there is certainly good following, like accepting the direction of the scene, "following" a leader on a journey, "following" the person of highest status so there is an actual point to your later status switch... the examples go on and on.

So following? It turns out, I'm cool with it.


Song of the Day: "Think Long" by The Mates Of State. It inspires me to have different opinions on a single subject. That is, if I think long enough, I see both sides. A blessing and a curse.

Me and Mrs. Jones, We Have a Thing Going On

So it comes to pass that I look like a follower again, not a leader.

But I swear to you, I watched the Oilers through it all. I remember watching Joe Murphy, Vinnie Damphousse and Shayne Corson lose lose lose night after night. I remember when watching Bill Ranford stand on his head wasn't fun any more. Hell, I remember when it seemed every single goal that was scored by the Oilers seemed to be either by or assisted from Wayyyyne Gretz-ky!

But now, if I get my Oiler window flags and run screaming up and down Whyte Avenue, I'm just like the rest.

That's what the guy at Blackbyrd Myoozik thought about me when I bought the latest Sharon Jones (and the Dap-Kings) album. That I was just like the rest. A follower. But man, I've loved everything, everything Sharon Jones touches.

Now, I hear about her in See, Vue, Rolling Stone, CMJ, everywhere. I hear her on CKUA. Her music is used for a variety of products. That pure, 60's funk recorded now instead of then. My ears even picked her song out of the car ride in "Free Ride". They were playing her cover of "What Have You Done for Me Lately" when Dove and Nate's Aunt were going on a date.

The very same song I put on the "Improvaganza 2005" mix.

I'm happy for her success. But I didn't jump on a bandwagon.

That's not the way I roll.

Song of the Day: "As Ugly As I Seem" by the White Stripes. Plug this song in, amp it up, and picture it beeing covered by The Suicide Machines. Brilliant.

Monkey Business

Someone recently said;

"Nowhere does it say on our posters Rapid Fire Theatre/Theatresports is necessarily a comedy show."

It was supposed to inspire us to do more than just worry about being funny and such. So I understand why it was said. Yet, our posters do feature (rather prominently) these two things;

-A pair of Groucho Marx glasses

-A chimp

But a chimp in Groucho Marx glasses? Now that's just silly.

Song of the day: "Too Much Monkey Business" by Chuck Berry. Yeah, yeah, the Beatles covered it. Chuck lives!

Hocus Pocus, Focus?

These are the magical words I wish worked.

I've battled the Focus Famine for years. As a teacher, director, leader, cast member, all-round acty guy. So guess what? That's right. It's time for another story with Crazy Unkie Shawn.

Now where did I put my spectacles? Ah! Yes, right on top of my head. Oh, the times that's happened. Now, which story to read today... Yes, yes, the story I like to call, "Shawn the Clown".

Once upon a time, Crazy Unkie Shawn was sitting on his balcony, poking a pigeon chick with a broomstick handle, wondering why the pigeon was taking this abuse. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was Guru Jan, the wise clown from the mountain. She had a task for Unkie Shawn. She wanted Unkie Shawn to spread the word of Clown to the people who lived in the Grove of Spruces, at a place where many children gathered to learn many mystical and pointless (yet largely entertaining and fun) arts.

Crazy Unkie Shawn enthusiastically agreed, because, well, he's crazy.

When C.U.S. arrived at the Grove, there were many children scampering about, here and there, near and far. He gathered several under his wing, and began to preach the word of Clown. But a terrible thing happened. The children, they were more interested in scampering about, here and there, near and far. try as he might, Unkie Shawn could not keep the children under his wing.They wanted to learn to "fly" on their own. Without anyone to help or offer a guiding hand.

Crazy Unkie Shawn left the Grove that day, feeling a little lost. He wanted them to listen, but didn't know how. He thought and he thought, and wished and hoped, but soon realized this: Those who want to get better at their art will do it on their own. No amount of "preaching" and placing hands in a "T" formation to signify "time out" will make people listen. Those who listen, listen. Those who don't, don't. Control is not something that necessarily can be gained; that's why some Mommies and Daddies always say "Control Yourself!" instead of "Me Want Control!"

Crazy Unkie Shawn found what made him happy that day; Poking a pigeon chick with a broomstick handle. Poke, Poke! C'mon you little skyrat! Fight back!

Today's Song Tandem(?): "Hocus Pocus" by Focus and "Living in the Past" By Jethro Tull. Get your 70's art rock on, y'all.

Clipping the Red Wings

There are 10 bottles of Brahma, 10 bottles of Traditional Ale, and 3 bottles of Kokanee in my fridge.

Why?

Because it's playoff time. That supply will last 8 games.

Look for me in the Oiler flag and vintage jersey. It'll say "PALLIER" across the top and the number is 50. Why 50? Because I stole the jersey that I gave to my dad on his 50th birthday.

Ah, the circle of life.

Song of the Day: "Kernkraft 400" by Zombie Nation. Hockey fans will understand.

PS-- Improv is great. See the show (methinks there's an 8 pm show tonight as well as 11 pm, hockey fans can still go and have a rip-roarin' shouty time).

Fabric Swatches Won't Make a Tux

Every single time I hear a song, I think it's perfect for either:

a) The Start of a Movie

or

b) The Start of a Play

But then I remember, you need a film or a play to put music at the start of it.

On at least two occasions I've been a part of a series of short stories onstage presented as a play; a "Story Collage" if you will; I had many dedicated co-collaborators on said projects.

Now, I've been thinking about the one I want to work on, and started to realize it's nothing but a series of short stories strung together again. Nope, not a central story changing locations, but a series of stories focusing on the same character. It's disheartening.

I just want to tell a complete story that's longer than 15-20 minutes. I want inspiration.

So, as anyone in my position would want to do, I'm going to try and force a dream tonight of Saraswati, the Hindu Goddess of knowledge and the arts. She'll ride down towards me on her swan (or goose, if the mood catches her), and she's going to straighten my story out and make everything clear to me.

God might be pissed that I'm trying out another religion, but he's known for forgiveness. I hope he understands. If he doesn't forgive me, as Rev. Lovejoy once said about religion, "They're really all the same."

But then God destroyed his train.

Song of the Day: "Different Names for the Same Thing" by Death Cab for Cutie. In a way, this song is treated a lot like I'm treating my current project. It starts with a wistful piano/needle skips and pops/dreamlike vocals of Benjamin Gibbard thing, and then, that idea is either thrown away or expanded into a grandiose pop overdose. It could have ended shortly after the 2 minute mark, but it's a shoegazing band! 5 minute minimum!

PS-- The Maple Leafs fired Pat Quinn. Must be the gum.

The Balancing Act: Improv and Oilers

There are two things I use the internet for:

This and the Edmonton Oilers.

I've been a fan for over 20 years... And I remember jumping up and down on the couch when we won our first Stanley Cup. I knew the Edmonton Oilers before I knew the stage.

It sounds like a petty thing, and unusual; us theatre-types aren't supposed to like sports. We're supposed to like literature and Greenpeace. But hey, I can't help the fact that I like cliched boy things like hockey, video games, and dressing in drag... wait, that last one might be just me.

But this is actually going to be a test of my loyalty.

Go Oilers Go. Oilers in 7.

Song of the Day: "Robot Rock" by Daft Punk. I want to start lobbying to make this our opening song for Theatresports '06-07. It would be wicked.

Pride and Privilege

If it were up to me, I'd wear a Rapid Fire Theatre Hat, Shirt, Hoodie, and the yet-to-be-released track pants (with "RFT" across the ass) every day.

But work does not permit. And it might seem a little braggy. And sadly, I'd look like a wanna-be Gangsta... no wait, for that, I'd have to wear the Rapid Fire Theatre Toque.

But my point is, I'm damn proud to be associated with this theatre company. It makes me walk a little taller, and it makes me a better person. It gives my life focus, direction and desire. It gives me something to work towards, and has allowed me to personally get to know some amazing theatre folk.

As I posted over at the Kory Story, Keith Johnstone once described improvisational theatre as "a privilege, not a right". I feel very privileged.

Sometimes, I need a pick-me-up. This is myself cheering myself up in front of everyone. It's better than my (maybe a little too often) shedding of clothes onstage. But you got to admit, I'm usually pimped into doing it.

That cheers me up too. Hooray for my pasty skinny body. I wouldn't trade it for, uh, a nice Mazda.

Zoom zoom.

Don't Worry, Be Crappy?

It's hard not to think hard.

Let me explain.

I was thinking very hard about improv. Too hard. So, I started to think less and less, so that seemingly improved my performance/creations. And, just like perscription drugs, it seems that the "no thinky" drug cocktail is not working as well as it used to, so I'm going to have to switch medication.

I'm a bit of a black-and-white chap, so it's now time to find something in between. I'm wearing grey pants today, so that's a start.

I had some troubles with word selection a few days ago at the show (that is, I said some words I shouldn't have said) and then was later told not to worry so much about it, which softened the blow. But it's hard for me to not punish myself for misbehaving. That's why I think I need a new formula. One that can put some sort of "Thought Filter" on things before they exit my body and mouth; Yeah, a thought filter for my body. You have to think before you move, don't you? Unless someone hits you with a reflex hammer, but reflexes aren't the subject here... are they?

The petrifying thing about improv: I don't know what I'm going to say or do next.
The great thing about improv: I don't know what I'm going to say or do next.

There's got to be a way to be in AND out of control. A controlled chaos, if you will. I'll go to the Lab in my lair, and I'll tell you in a couple of days what I came up with.

Now where's my coat and goggles, and hair gel, so I can get the perfect "Doc Brown" look going?

Today's Song: "A.M. Slow Golden Hit" by Hotel Lights. The band is lead by Darren Jessee, formerly of the Ben Folds Five. It's an interesting statement on music. Listen and enjoy, unless you don't like the soft stuff.

Life begins at 50

This is my 50th post... if you include pictures.

And I have lots to say, but nothing I should share. Just wait until I'm drunk.

Today's Song: "Gates of Steel" by Devo. Released in 1978, these ragamuffins lead by Mark Mothersbaugh confused and confounded critics and music fans alike. Novelty act? Serious New Wave band? One-Hit Wonders? Rock Band? I like them anyway.

L'eggo my Ego: Are we at RFT Celebrities?

Erik, you got the modified Model T engine that is my brain running...

I made a comment on Erik's blog the other day when he referred to me as one of the gurus that runs the prospect jam. I had a little giggle, because when I first came to the workshops RFT offers, I referred to myself as a "wandering improv guru" to several of my instructors: Kevvy and Bill, mostly.

Yes, and how I wandered. From Edmonton, to Fort McMurray, to...uh... Edmonton again. There's a voice that keeps on calling me...

But seriously, I've been on a lot of Improv teams... (flex, flex) "The Slurpees" (1993), "The Young and the Useless" (1994), "Three Men and a Mountain (1995), "Bite the Wax Tadpole" (1999-00) "Blind Man Funprov" (2001-02), and finally, RFT.

And hells yeah, it's awesome. I've had a few people walk up to me and ask me about the show, and say I'm wicked, one that said I "wasn't bad", one that said I'm "not the worst" or whatevs. And I've said to a few friends that it blows my mind when somebody thinks I'm a demicelebrity.
Now here's the question: are we all at RFT demi to full-blown celebrities?

Is that simply because we get up on stage in front of a dedicated audience?

If the answer is yes, wow. Line 'em up, I'm gonna sign some boobies.

But somehow, I don't want to label us as such. I would never want that to get in the way of what we're trying to do; Constantly improve in quality.

Tell the wrong person they're a celebrity, and there out there signing boobies instead of learning their craft. But then again, it might keep some people moving. It might be nice to hear it, and it might seem to be a measure of success.

If all of this is so, do we have certain responsiblilities due to our, uh, patency? Obviously, be good ambassadors for RFT, but is there more?

I guess if one person thinks "Celebrity", others must be. So it really becomes a question "do we think of ourselves as", not "are we".

My motor's out of gas.

Song of the day: "Honey Bucket" by The Melvins. Yeah, you heard me. The Melvins.

Plant the Seed, Turn the Page

So, this morning (see Mike? I live in the present, if only for a moment) a man comes up to me while I'm trying to open the store. He's on a bike, carrying a bucket that reads "The Best Mud in the Joint", holding a mop, and he's just finished banging on the window for "Wooly Bully's".

Welcome to Whyte Avenue on a Wednesday Morning.

He walks his bike up next to me and says: "You know who Robert Plant is?"

I say: "Of course".

He points to the doors of my store and says "I met him in there."

I want to stop for a moment, and I'd love for you to honestly answer in the comments: Is this man hepped up on goofballs? An escapee from the Bonko Barn?... To put it simple: Is this man crazy?

Actually, he's not. On one of my days off a few months ago, Robert Plant was briefly in my store. My co-worker Rachel was there, and she didn't know it was him, what with the leathery finish now and such. He's getting on a little. He was in Edmonton for a concert.

But my point is, next time a crazy man comes up to you and tells you he's Jesus, maybe that man isn't crazy. You can't judge people by what they look like or how they behave.

You might have just missed your opportunity to frolic with the Messiah.

Or you may get yourself into serious trouble when that man wraps your head in tin foil and turns you into a god satellite, thus suffocating you by not punching any holes in the wrap.

But when you're leaving your body, at least you can say, I didn't judge that man. I chose to believe him first...

Man, this lesson is double-edged.

PS-- Life is an Adventure. The Flaming Lips just released a new CD!!

Putting a Soap-Covered Finger in a Glass of Water with Pepper Dashed on top

When I did that once, the pepper rushed to the sides of the glass, making the water perfectly clear. I wish I could do that with my words... That is, make them perfectly clear...

I remember when I first joined RFT, the whole experience was a big (mostly self-imposed) load of intimidation; I was scared about what I would say, how people would take it, and if I would start embellishing truths to sound more interesting. Would I? Indeed I would.

But the odd thing is, the exaggerations are often unintentional...

Take a conversation I had with Jacob in my first couple of months on board. I don't know how this came about, but I ended up telling him I shave my face twice a day. What the eff?... No, no, what I meant was, I have once or twice shaved my face more than once a day, but the social nervousness lead me to stick by my unintentional lie. Now, did Jacob lead me to make that shit up? No, that was 100% pure Shawn. But since I was feeling awkward, I just went with it...

More recently, I was (surprise!) having a conversation about music with some folks. Now, for whatever reason, I still get quasi-nervous around some of the higher-ups in the company to what I hope is a much lesser degree, but I know it's still there. Point being, I was trying to explain that, for fun, I like to make up "beats" and "drum loops" on my computer to be used in future songs of my own composition.

That's the truth.

I was trying to express my frustration with the fact that I make up some pretty shitty beats that I hate, but save on my computer nonetheless (my dinosaur-like computer... let's just say, it ain't even a pentium).

That's the truth.

Here's where I start to get verbal mini-throwup. Now, what I mean to say is, I notice similar music on the radio with similar beats to the ones that I thought were uninspired. I meant to express my frustration with the lack of creative Hip Hip/Rap/Yadayada-that-kinda-genre music that is mass consumed via the radio.

Pretentious, elitist, and all around snobby, but certainly what I was trying to express.

Instead, I come out with something like this:

"So, I'm like, listening to the radio and stuff, and like, there's my beat! They totally stole my beat, and I'm all like, I should be making millions!"

Whoa.

Which must sound a little something like this to the people who I'm talking to:

"I'm bat shit insane! I like to talk to the beatmasters in my stomach! Get out of my skin, you little DJs! And now, to go on stage with alleeall of you, and watch out, I'm friends with Shifty of Crazy Town... COME MY LADY, COME COME MY LADY!!! He'll cut you up... did I tell you I wrote that song?"

Well, okay maybe not exactly like that, but something similar.

My advice to all you new RFT Improvisers, don't get nervous around the veterans of the company. Staying cool and loose, especially before shows, is what makes us one step above the rest.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to put my straitjacket back on.

My 3 Grandmas.

I'm going to avoid an obvious and timely topic today for something completely different; A trip to Grandma's house.

If there's anything I've learned recently, life is fragile and precious. It can only last for so long, and cherishing every moment is huge. Important beyond belief.

I remember, when my Grandma died many years ago, a woman stepped in to take her place. Her name was Elizabeth Patton, and she was my Grandma's Cousin. I was very young at the time.

I remember going over to her house quite a few times, and she had a dog. The dog loved playing with me, and we would chase each other around the house for what was probably hours. Elizabeth would say that it was good excersise for her dog, so she didn't mind.

I remember a time when she took care of me for a few days when my parents were away. We went shopping one day, and she noticed I was looking at a mat that you could roll out on the floor that was actually like a mini-town map made for cars (some of you would remember the exact mat; the street plan was basically an oval-track, with railroad tracks on one side, and a kind-of rural scene on the other, with extremely out of scale buildings and houses scattered about, everything 2D). Without a word, she bought it for me.

I saw her maybe twice after I passed the age of 11. Possibly at a wedding, and I vaguely remember another time, but that was it. I still loved her, and still felt she was in my life. This last December, I made a plan to visit her for the first time as an adult.

I called my Dad to get her phone number. I knew she would probably be in a nursing home by now, or something along those lines. I'd been neglecting the visit for so long, I really didn't know where I was going to find her.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" was my father's response. "She died a few months ago."

I thought for a moment about crying. But all I felt was bad. I can't describe the emotion, I just felt bad. Not bad as in "I'm a bad person", bad as in, not happy.

But I needed that. It let me realize that some situations are not possible to control, that I can't always have a storybook ending with everyone in my life, and that I can't always get what I want.

I'm going to visit a woman in Blind Bay, British Columbia that did a very similar thing for me. When my Grandma passed away, she also said she would like to be my new Grandma. She is her sister. She's passed 80, and she still does landscaping/lawncare for her neighbours. I have been visiting her every year for about 5 years.

She has a graveyard at the bottom of her yard. Really, she does. She joked one time that when she dies, she'll just roll down the hill to her grave.

I don't know why, but I like that one.

The Generalizer Sampler

And now, for the 7 of you that voted, and the 2 that voted sarcastically, here is THE GENERALIZER SAMPLER!! (Kay, for her loyalty, gets a copy containing only the songs she voted for... that's what being my true blend gets you: copywritten material that I have no right distributing):

1. CAKE- Wheels
2. HOT HOT HEAT- Middle of Nowhere
3. 311- Frolic Room
4. THE BRAVERY- Swollen Summer
5. THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS- Jackie, Dressed in Cobras
6. OASIS- Lyla
7. SPOON- Jackie, Dressed in Cobras
8. SHARON JONES & the Dap-Kings- This Land is Your Land
9. VOLCANO, I'M STILL EXCITED!!- Trunk of My Car
10. FLAMING LIPS- Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, pt 1
11. BECK- Hell Yes (Ghettochip Malfunction Remix)
12. GORILLAZ- Kids With Guns
13. FRENCH KICKS- Yes, I Guess
14. LONGVIEW- When You Sleep
15. KEANE- This is the Last Time
16. BEN FOLDS- Prison Food

Now, guys and gals, if this sounds like something that makes your nipples perky, just let me know in the comments if you want a copy.

As for tonight's show at Theatresports, I think we've got TEN, count 'em TEN NEW rookies... And I think 8 of them have links to the P-Jam.

Not that I need to feel validated, but that's a good feeling. It's a bad feeling, also, to know that an almost equal number of P-Jammers are not "rookie-ing it up" this week. In a perfect communist society, all who want to would do RFT Theatresports. We'd jam the stage like sardines, barely able to breathe, but we'd all be smiling.

Or suffocating. Or scared out of our minds. Or feeling a little out of place...

It has come to my attention that feedback is extremely necessary. I need to make some real paper reports for some of you, just like RFT does for the players occasionally. It's not fair that I expect people to come leaps and bounds in only a few weeks when some people don't even know what to work on.

I think we can treat the next few months like Summer Band Camp. No, not that Summer Band Camp, the type where we really focus in on what it's all about, and helping each other.

Like making each other look good. I'll explain at band camp.

Whose Leg do I Have to Hump to get some service?

All I wanted was the new Mates of State CD.

I asked the girl at Megatunes if they had it. Without looking, she said no. I said "Could you help me look for it? Maybe it's in the new release section, or along this wall..."

She said it nope.

Now, I know she's a smart girl. And she probably knows that they don't have it. But for the love of God, humor me...

I did finally get the CD, but I had to find it my own damn self a week later. And it's good. It's real good. A keyboard-heavy, male-female shouty, kinda antidepressant-induced good time.

Speaking of antidepressant, is it true alcohol is a depressant? I really want to know. I mean, yes, I know everyone always says alcohol is a depressant, but is that really the case?

I ask because I have a tradition during Oilers games. Instead of 3 periods of hockey, I have 3 "beer-iods" of hockey. That's right, 3 Brahmas/Trads a game. And I never get really depressed. If I do, it's because the Oilers lost, and that's depressing anyway.

I know there's an awful lot of "clean" living Improvisers in Edmonton, and I respect them for it. They're more likely to partake in extreme walking than drink a beer, and hey, I think they provide equal rushes. But please, for those who drink, let me know, it there scientific proof of this depressant thing? Really really?

Because I've heard a couple other things about other activities, and my hands are not hairy nor am I blind.

Nazi Gum?-- The Story Behind Trident Splash

I know the commercial is a wee bit old, but they still run it, and it still pisses me off. Here's a little scenario:

Monday morning. Cadbury Corporation in the board room.

BOSS: Good morning gentlemen.

Enter INTERN. He is carrying tray of piping hot coffee.

BOSS: We have a product that we've been developing for a while, it's called Trident Splash. We need a catchy commercial that is "hip" and "now". Johnson, what's hip and now?

JOHNSON: Quentin Tarantino!

BOSS: Excellent Johnson! But we can't afford him. Let's make sure we use a song he's used in one of his movies for the commercial. Now... I know we have to make sure everyone knows the fellow who's chewing the gum is confident and in the know. What's something confident people do?

SPERBER: They wear speedos!

JOHNSON: They swagger!

BOSS: Excellent. This fellow is wearing a speedo and swaggering down the street. Now, where is somewhere where people meet?

PALLIER: A Bus stop!

BOSS: Perfect. But how did you get in here?! (PALLIER is thrown out by JOHNSON by the back belt loop) And now, I need some quintessential losers. What kind of people are an easy target?

SPERBER: Fags!

JOHNSON: Black people!

MCGILLICUTTY: Slackers!... Uh, the un-shaven, dirty, poor, punk-rock loving bohemian!

BOSS: Don't overthink, McGillicutty. But I like it. A dirty Punk-rocker. Maybe someone in a Green Day T-shirt.

INTERN: Uh, Green Day is barely punk anymore.

BOSS: SILENCE! (BOSS throws hot coffee on INTERN. SPERBER and JOHNSON beat him with his own arms. MCGILLICUTTY puts out his cigar on INTERN's bruises.) I wanted an intern that was "hip" and "now", not "Wannabe-hipster" and "Dao....... ist". Now where were we... Right! Confident middle-class pasty white man swaggers down the street in speedos. He meets 3 easy targets: A black woman on a computer.... haahaa... hoo. A black woman on a computer?! I crack me up...ahaha. A fag with a poofy dog, because we all know they love their pussy-ass poodles, and a dirty punk trying to hit on an innocent Aryan girl. Okay, okay, that's 4, but we won't victimize that blonde beauty. Regardless. When our hero chews the gum, he'll reveal the others for who they are: They'll be hit by a "wave"... Get it? Trident Splash? Wave? So all the targets are hit: The black woman's computer is destroyed, because, what was she using that for anyway... the Homo's faggity poodle will have his hairdo destroyed, and the punk will actually turn out to be an old has-been, hiding a comb-over! In fact, he's a pervert for even trying to get with that girl, and she'll scream mockingly at his stupid bald head! And, what the hell, let's throw in a goth chick. They're funny looking. Especially wet... Besides, she's anti-conformist! And gentlemen, we have a commercial.

JOHNSON: Here here!

SPERBER: Hooray!

MCGILLICUTTY: Superb!

They exit, each kicking the INTERN in the ribs on the way to a "power-lunch".

Now, is that really the message Trident Splash wanted me to get? I hope not, and I hope nobody was actually thinking this way when the commercial was developed. I know I couldn't be the first person to think this way about this commercial. And I know I'm just as bad in a way for recognizing the targets, but hey, I was raised in Capatalist North America: I think they subliminaly wanted me to notice, and never reveal their Anti-gay, Racist, Anti-unique individualness (notice the "anarchist" was also victimized) message. No, no. They wouldn't want me to notice that message upfront. They never wanted it to bubble to the surface....

Or maybe the commercial meant none of it at all. But that leads me to my point: Be careful, when you're improvising, what message you may accidentally be portraying. Stereotypes are occasionally funny, but do you really need to beat down another intern?

Wait, I stereotyped Corporate America! I made those office jerks into caricatures! I DON'T EVEN HEED MY OWN MESSAGE!! I'M JUST LIKE THEM!

NOOOOO.....!

Oh well, screw it.

PS-- for those wondering what the song is, it's supposed to be the George Baker Selection playing "Little Green Bag". It's not, but it's supposed to be... In fact, the original commercial had a sound-alike, and then, likely after legal action and some suing, it became the "real" song, redone by some studio musicians.

Give me an Earful

Before any P'Jammers (Sunday Jam folks) continue on to my post, I'd like to say, this is your chance to talk to me about how auditions went. I'd love to know. If you don't want everyone else to see, feel free to e-mail me at spallier@hotmail.com. Please... read on to my other post(s).

The Art of Shutting Up

I'm going to have to be careful while making this post, seeing that I've already given away what the subject is...

Let's just say, a few days have passed, and I'm starting to realize the best way to get what I want is to stop yammering on about it. It was friday night, and I had one of my better shows in recent memory. And I got a bunch of things that night that I wanted.

I won't say what they were, but avid readers of my blog know what they are (*cough*...ahhosting. bless me).

I don't think this technique works for everything. I want a recording contract, but I'm pretty sure that takes careful orchestrating. Heh, hee. I made a music funny.

I want a legion of minions to carry out menial tasks, but I'm pretty sure that takes hypnosis and persuasive speaking classes.

I want a cup of coffee, but I'm pretty sure I'll have to get off my ass and make it myself.

By the way, today I was listening to Serart. The not-so creative blending of the names Serj Tankian ( of System of a Down) and Arto Tuncboyaciyan (the Armenian Percussionist). It's artsy, and moody and such, so fans of the downers will not be pleased. Unless you like variety. Which is a spice in my cupboard.

aah...ahhhh..aaaah... agoodscene!! Oh, mercy. Bless me.

Audition Perdition

It's a shame.

After the auditions for RFT conclude this evening at the space above the Red Bike (for those who are unclear, there is no Prospect Jam on April 2), there might be a few people we will never see again.

Some people probably think I mean those who audition and don't get in the show, but I mean those who audition and do get in the show. I feel like Yoda, yelling at you "Much you have learned, but your training is not complete!".

It's a really good idea for those who want to keep their improv muscle in shape to continue to come. I don't want the double-perdition of "I'm too discouraged to go back to P'Jam, I didn't make it in." as well as "I'm too awesome to go to P'Jam any more." I understand too busy, but not too awesome.

Too discouraged? I totally understand that.

But I don't often accept it.

Oh yeah, and even though the voting for music is over, I'll still try and mention what the CD of the day is... Today, It was Matthew Sweet's 1993 release, Altered Beast. I love that hulking Ming Tea member. He's sometimes melodic, mostly passionate, and occasionally discordant to riveting dramatic effect.

Not to be confused with Michael Sweet of Stryper fame. Stryper was not so good. In any way.