Iowa Stubborn (Meredith Wilson)

Good evening from Storm Lake, Iowa, where menacing grey clouds hover over the area, threatening to discharge a cold rain on the aptly-named community.

I'm at the Super 8 Motel, relaxing before a late-night show for the After-Prom revelers of Newell-Fonda Community School in Newell, Iowa. My report time is midnight, which officially makes this the latest "late show" I've ever done in my 20-plus year comedy career.

The tour started 12 days ago, with a drive out of Rochester, NY on Tuesday the 14th. I made my way down the Interstate 90 for what felt like the thousandth time, and got deep into Indiana before deciding to hunker down for the evening. I stopped along the way to refuel at an Indiana tollway rest stop, and as I pumped the gas into the van, standing out in the chilly night air, I soaked in the scenery. There wasn't much going on by the way of other travelers, although at a pump opposite me, a young lady was crying and hugging an older lady, and she was driving a panel truck with the Budget Rent-A-Car logo on the side. I couldn't tell exactly what the problem was, except that the truck was pointing the opposite way of the traffic flow. The two women talked, the older one assuring the younger one that everything would be o.k., and I struggled to figure out what was going on. The older woman then left the younger one, and started emptying the garbage cans at the pumps, which confused me because I thought they were traveling together. It was confusing, to say the least, and I paid for my gas, quit eavesdropping and went on my way. I found my way to the Motel 6 in South Bend, Indiana, and got a decent night's sleep.

The next day, I drove to Carlinville, Illinois, home of Blackburn College for a Dash For Dollars game show engagement. The show was a lot of fun, with a lot of excited students eager to compete for the money. It's always a thrill to me to do the show because I remember being broke most of the time when I was in college and I know how cool it was to come into a windfall every now and again. I was in the college's main auditorium, and I had my own dedicated sound technician, who provided me with a lapel mic, ran my sound, and helped me with props. I enjoyed working with the lapel mic, as it kept my hands free to work with the props that we use in the show without having to sacrifice the ability to amplify my voice. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, my bluetooth fell out of my gig bag, never to be seen again. I still had the charger, but I needed my bluetooth replaced. It would have to wait.

Thursday was a drive to Fort Smith, Arkansas and an engagement at the Electric Cowboy, a Comedy Zone one-nighter. I worked with a funny young comic named Gains Kelly, and we had a really good turnout. I was closing, and I took advantage of the time to stretch out and work with the crowd as I like to do from time to time, and it went really well. Thanks to Heff and Joel at Comedy Zone for the opportunity, and don't worry, the check's in the mail.

Friday was a day off so I lingered in Fort Smith and got my oil changed (gotta take care of the vehicle) and then drove west to Oklahoma City where my good friends Jason Russell and Steve Burr were working at the Looney Bin comedy club. I checked myself into a Motel 6 and joined up with them at the club and we did the "pal-around" thing. Jason was driving a new car, one that he was very protective of, and Steve wanted to prank him. While Jason was on stage at the late show, Steve and I went out into the parking lot and using some duct tape that I was carrying around in the van, we rigged together some empty Red Bull cans and attached them to the underside of Jason's car so that when he drove away, he would think something was dragging.

The stunt went off without a hitch; the trick was to position the cans so that Jason wouldn't see them as he approached the car, and he had parked far away from the door of the club so that no one would park near his car. The problem is that the farther away you get from a car, the more you can see what's underneath it. We set the cans up so that the rear right tire blocked the view of them, and I thought the jig was up when Jason walked around to his trunk to put his suitcase full of t-shirts away. Luckily, he was distracted enough so that he didn't see them, and when he started driving away, it was absolutely priceless. He started driving forward (he had backed into the space) and then once the cans started dragging, he paused, then started up again, heard the noise again, and got out of the car immediately. Once he saw the cans, I flashed him the roll of duct tape and he realized he'd been had.

The evening wasn't without some other excitement. Without wanting to toot my own horn, I'll instead insert a passage from Steve Burr's accounting of the incident, culled from his blog at www.steveburrcomedy.com;

It's been a pretty good week so far and I'm really enjoying the company of the two comics I'm working with, Jason Russell and Susan Freeman. Our threesome has been joined the last couple of days by one of my old Rochester buddies, Ralph Tetta. He's in the area with a few days off so he made the drive to the OKC to hang out, and it's lucky for Jason that he did. Ralphie stopped a potential merchandise theft at last night's show dead in it's tracks.

Jason and I were set up outside the showroom between shows to peddle some merchandise, when during the commotion of shaking hands and moving product, some sticky fingered girl thought she'd help herself to one of Mr. Russell's T-shirts, something neither me or the J-man noticed. Ralph however locked in on her instantly and as she made her way past him he reached out and snagged the T-shirt out of her hands, to which she quickly replied, "do you work here?", like that would have made a difference in whether what she did was right or wrong. Ralph told her he did and she beat feet out the door. I was standing right next to him and saw the whole thing happen, but didn't know she had stolen something so I wasn't completely aware what I was seeing. I will tell you this though, Ralph was as cool as a cucumber in busting this chick and didn't even look at her or the shirt when he grabbed it back. He just reached out and plucked it from her hands like some kind of Secret Service agent or something. It was impressive for sure.

I always wanted to be a superhero, and while I don't feel my actions were any bit heroic, I'll take the accolades where I can get them.

Saturday was a laundry day, and Steve and I got together for lunch, and then we went to Target where I purchased a new bluetooth. The unit was different than the one I lost, and I don't like it as much, but the charger was the same as the other one I had, which left me with an extra. You never know when you're going to need a spare charger. I went back to the room to relax, and then Saturday night, I hung out with my comedy compatriots and they were able to talk management into letting me warm up the mic a little on the late show. I went in and did my thing, and it felt good; I have to admit that there's nothing in my life that's much more uncomfortable than being in a room where there's comedy going on, and not getting my turn on stage.

On Sunday, Jason, Steve and I went to lunch with J.P., a guy that works at the Looney Bin, and we had some authentic Mexican food, and then made our way over to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Out of nothing more than coincidence did it happen that my visit correlated with the anniversary of Timothy McVeigh's heinous act of domestic terrorism. There were long lines to get into the museum, so we made our way around the grounds and read the plaques that adorned the outdoor displays. I have to admit that I got awfully choked up whenever any mention of the children at the daycare center were mentioned; in addition, there was a long, chain-link fence along the front of the memorial, and visitors from all across the country left mementos fastened to it; license plates from various states were popular, as were teddy bears and photos, and it reminded me way too much of the spontaneous memorials that pop up in my urban neighborhood back home when someone dies in an act of violence. It was sobering, to say the least.

On Monday, I lazily checked out of the hotel and made my way into New Mexico, stopping just short of the Colorado border. I checked into another Motel 6, and surveyed the town of Raton to see what it offered a weary traveler who was also hungry, and just picked up another hour due to the time change driving west. I ate at a restaurant called K-Bob's Steakhouse (www.kbobs.com) and enjoyed their unlimited Salad Wagon which featured their famous Kettle O' Beans (or whatever they called it). It was one of my very few nods this week towards trying to eat healthy. I've been so busy, the sit-down restaurant hasn't exactly been an option and my body is paying the price for it. I've gotten doughy around the middle, and I need to make a turn-around but quickly.

Tuesday, I headed north into Trinidad, Colorado, and while it was only a 25-mile or so drive, it was one of the most impressive. At one point, I was travelling up a mountain road and came around a ridge, and then saw snow-capped mountains in the distance. It was the first time I'd ever seen them in real life, and it was inspiring enough to give me pause. Then I realized that it was like the scenery in the background of every South Park episode, and the recognition made me chuckle a little inside. The day was spent killing time as my early arrival left me with extra time on my hands, so I walked around in a Wal-Mart and picked up a couple of items to make my life a little easier. I arrived early at the college, but loading in the gear for the show turned out to be challenging because the cafeteria didn't include a door that was large enough for the Incredible Cash Cube to fit through, so we managed to talk some Facilities technicians into removing a door for us. The sound system turned out to leave something to be desired, so I abandoned it and managed to do the show without it, and it turned out just fine. Being able to improvise is clearly the key in being able to do one of these game shows successfully.

Wednesday was a travel day, and I made my way up through Pueblo, Colorado Springs and Denver. The whole week before, I was nervous because of the reports of snow that the area had received, and not only because I don't enjoy driving in blizzards, but also because I had failed to bring foul-weather winter clothing. When I left Rochester, it was warming up and I decided that a heavy hooded sweatshirt would do the trick, and somehow decided to also pack a knit hat and gloves just in case. The good news is that the snow was gone, but I still wound up hitting Denver at 5 o'clock. It bothers me that in a time when we're supposedly experiencing record unemployment as a nation that it hasn't provided some relief on the highways of our major cities.

I made it all the way to North Platte, Nebraska, site of Mid Plains Community College, the next stop on my Dash For Dollars Western Tour. I was contemplating dragging my feet and stopping at the Nebraska-Colorado border and making the rest of the journey the next day, but the highway was empty, the sun was shining and I decided to go for it. If you're never driven across Nebraska, let me just say this; farm states are resplendent with manure, and there's no escaping it. There's two kinds of farms, crops and livestock. Livestock farms produce manure, and crop farms spread it around and let it bake in the sun. The odor floated around in my nose like ghosts in the attic of a haunted house. I checked into a Motel 6, did some laundry, and then watched TV because they didn't have wireless internet, and any attempt to dial-up would have resulted in long-distance charges. I was out there, Jack.

The next day, I packed up my stuff, hit the bank, ate lunch, shopped for props (do you realize how hard it is to find Bubblicious Bubblegum in a small town?), and then moved over to another hotel that Mid Plains had reserved for me. I realized somewhere along the line that my back brakes were grinding, and I needed to do what I do quite often; live in the future. I checked my date book to see when I would have a four-hour block of time to get work done on the van, and decided that I'd have to stick it out until Saturday morning when I'd be in a big city (Sioux City, Iowa) and close to the next gig (Newell-Fonda Community School, a mere 90 minutes away). I made my way to the gig, and found that they put me in a huge gymnasium reserved for basketball games. I had only played one other gymnasium in this first year of my game show hosting career, and that show was sparsely attended. I had a decent crowd and an extremely hospitable support staff at the college, and a stadium-worthy sound system that ROCKED!

Friday, I headed toward Sioux City, Iowa after reloading my cash supply at Wells-Fargo (who treated me very kindly in breaking up large bills even though I didn't have an account) and I rolled into town and checked into the Rodeway Inn. I had about 45 minutes to shower and dress before I had to leave for Briar Cliff University, and I made it with a few minutes to spare. Fred Seel, my contact at the school, had provided me with a detailed map so I knew exactly where I was going, which helped a lot. We had plenty of volunteers to help with the load-in (which isn't always the case) and we wound up needing them because the Cash Cube had to be carried down a small set of stairs into the performance area (and carried up the stairs on the way out). The show was awesome, with a lot of audience interaction, money flying through the air, and we even did a little video interview after the show as the winner of the contest and I got to enjoy a few minutes of fame. I'm happy to report that neither I nor the young lady who won the grand prize were asked our opinions about gay marriage; apparently that sort of thing can get you a lot of negative press.

Back at the ranch, I started combing the phone book looking for brake shops with Saturday hours, and I found one that was less than a mile and a half away from the hotel. I watched television until I passed out, and the next morning, called an establishment called Tires Tires Tires. The store was booked up and wouldn't be able to help me, but suggested that I try their other location. I had nightmare visions of having to drive 40 miles away, but it was just up the road about 5 or 6 miles. They got me in and I got the repairs done with enough time to get back to the hotel to shower and pack up. Unfortunately, I was in such a hurry, I left behind my phone and bluetooth charger. I had a backup bluetooth charger and I carry a phone charger in the van, but I was still pissed at myself for rushing out of the hotel. Seriously, if I was a few minutes late in checking out, what were they going to do, beat me up? My biggest problem seems to be (besides carelessness) that I never pack my luggage the same way twice, and so I never remember where I put stuff, and I can't do a check to make sure I didn't forget anything. Stuff like phone chargers like to hide because the outlets they're plugged into are always behind end tables and cabinets.

So now, here I am at the Super 8, getting ready for a 12:30 AM show, and looking down the barrel of a 635-mile drive tomorrow to Battle Creek, Michigan, to participate in a benefit show for Relay For Life, a cancer relief charity. I'm going to lose an hour as I return to the Eastern time zone, and the drive will take at least nine or ten hours if there are no weather or traffic related delays. The show starts at 7 PM, so the question I have to answer is when I have to leave Storm Lake to make it to Battle Creek in time to get a shower and dress. There's plenty of time for sleeping afterwards.

I'll be in Michigan for the rest of next week and then heading for home next Saturday. It's going to be good to get back home, and then on Sunday, May 3rd, I'll be performing at a tribute show for my friend, Tiny Glover, who passed away recently. May is going to be a relatively slow month with a lot of time off to spend at home, and I'll be looking forward to it. Right now, it's time to get into "show" mode by ironing a shirt and getting a shower. I usually get ready for shows with mindless activities that keep me distracted from the task before me.

You don't think these blogs write themselves, do ya?

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Tessie (Dropkick Murphys)

Well, it's that time of year again, and that means that baseball season has started. And it's time for me to come clean to the American public, and state, for the record, THAT I HATE BASEBALL.

Always have. It's a fucking pox. It's a shitty game. Boring as hell, puffed up on it's own self-importance, and followed by the shallowest of human beings.

The big arguments are widely held, even by fans and people in the baseball industry. And yet they blindly soldier on, drinking beer, eating peanuts, and keeping track of statistics. Well, let's take a look at this bullshit game that stopped being the "national pastime" sometime during the Nixon administration.

1. THEY PLAY TOO MANY GAMES. 162 games a year, to be precise. Well, let's do the math...that's double the games that hockey and basketball teams play in a season, and about ten times the number of games a football team plays. So basically what you're telling me is that a team could dump a ton of games in the crapper, and still be considered one of the best. All sports is frivolous, but baseball seeks to make frivolity an art form. Let's cut the season down to a reasonable number of games so that individual games actually mean something. I think baseball sucks, so I'd be satisfied with every team playing every other team once and then start the playoffs. Hell, NFL teams go eight years before they go through the rotation and play every other team, and they have the same number of teams.

2. BASEBALL IS NOT A TEAM SPORT. When it comes down to it, the game is a face off between a pitcher and a batter. And most of the fielding team doesn't even move once a ball is put in play. You want to liven the sport up for Ralph Tetta? You want to get me involved? Get rid of the benches, and let the batter's team hang out on the field. Easy out, pop fly? The batter has a guy right there to push the fielder out of the way and prevent him from catching the batter "out." Or, he could catch the ball, and then the batter's team plays a spirited game of "keep away" while the batter rounds the bases. Either way, you've got a sport that's fun to watch and challenging to play. Now that I've chimed in with my plan for improvement, regular baseball sounds like shit, doesn't it? You're god damned right it does.

3. THEY CALL THE CHAMPION SHIP "THE WORLD SERIES." And all the teams are from the United States, unless the Toronto Blue Jays somehow sneak into the playoffs. The only thing "world" about the series is that there are usually a butt-load of South American and Asian guys on the teams, and what does that say about the game when Asian guys are athletic enough to make the team?

4. THE MANAGERS WEAR UNIFORMS. Fucking ridiculous. Granted, it's rooted in tradition when the manager of a team would also be a player, but again, how stupid does some old fat guy look trotting out in pinstripes? It's as out of place as the 14-year-old kid who rings your door at Halloween looking for candy, and it needs to go. And how about updating the look of the uniforms, anyway? A baseball team looks like a busload of douche bags in their pajamas...they're not on their way to a physical contest, it's nap time.

5. THE ALL-STAR GAME IS PLAYED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SEASON. Not to be disparaging, but is that really fair to all the players? A guy who's picked as an "all-star" could shit the bed in the second half, or a rookie player could hit his stride and start streaking after being passed over. Fuck if we're gonna be so nonchalant about the placement of the All-Star game, play the fucking thing in the winter. During Christmas week, when everyone's out of town for the holidays.

6. DOUBLE HEADERS. Let's face it, if you can play two games in a day, it's not even physically strenuous enough to be called a sport. And what happens when your team wins one and loses the other? What are you supposed to do, celebrate and mope?

Baseball appeals to people who like statistics. You know who else likes numbers that much? Accountants. And everyone knows what a bag of laughs they are. Baseball is an out-of-date system that we keep in place for some misguided traditionalism, like the Electoral College. It has no place in society, and takes more than it gives. Congress actually got side-tracked from dealing with real issues like war and the economy to try and figure out if players had used steroids or not. I demand a recount.

Baseball is light on action. If you want to play up the strategy aspect of the game, here's a one-word rebuttal.....chess. My amplified answer is "Chess, motherfucker." During an NFL contest, every player on the field is in motion. During an NBA or NHL contest, every player is in motion until the period is over. In baseball, there's a lot of standing around.....talking......and scratching. Sometimes, the manager and the catcher take a stroll out to the mound for a sidebar. YAWN.

Some of the teams are named after laundry. The Boston Red Sox? You do realize that this nick-name is only one generation removed from calling themselves the Boston White-Striped Boxer-Briefs. Lame, lame, and more lame.

In closing, I will offer one positive observation about baseball, just so you baseball lovers won't think I'm all bad. Baseball has provided people like me who don't like guns an alternate form of home security in the baseball bat. It's way more effective than trying to chase off home invaders with a hockey stick or a ping-pong paddle.

Play ball.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester (Red Wings), NY

Everyday I Write The Book (Elvis Costello)

It's funny how things change. Mostly, change comes gradually...you don't notice it because it's a small change each day, but then months or years down the road, you compare whatever it is that changed to the way it used to be, and it's a drastic difference.

Want proof? Look at your high school graduation photo, and then look in the mirror. I'll wait.

Big difference, huh? Unless you're Michael J. Fox, who for some reason is holding on pretty well.

I mention change because I've certainly changed. I used to blog about three times a week, and now I finally get a chance to sit down and write, and I look at the date of my last entry, and it's been two weeks. The way it feels, it might as well be a lifetime.

I'm always on the fence about what I should write. The least interesting types of blogs, my friend Ward told me today, are the "road diary" types of blogs (what I had for lunch, where I'm playing this week, how the crowds were, etc.) and the current events, political or philosophical blogs.

Unfortunately, those are the two big guns in my arsenal.

When I do write something funny, I try to record it as a podcast and post it on my primary website, www.ralphtetta.com. As my webmaster Bruce would tell you, I'm sporadic at best at generating new material, and to be more honest about it, piss-poor. I've written one thing this YEAR. That blows.

I'm writing a book about standup comedy. I have a great deal of it already finished, but I showed it around to a bunch of fledgling comics for their feedback, and got lots of great ideas about things that should be added and amplified. I've hoped to use some of my down-time to get the writing done, but there's always something cool on TV, or the internet, or one of the books I brought to read, the complimentary USA today from the hotel, or just a nap.

I have an idea for a CD full of "radio plays" that I think would be great fun to record. Basically, a comedy album full of sketches that include audio only. I've written one sketch, and figure I need between nine and twelve more. That project is dry-docked until I can get off my ass.

My discipline is for shit.

I've become the most useless person I could possibly be; I'm a writer who doesn't write.

I've gotten accolades in the past for my writing abilities; now I'm resting on my laurels. I need a kick in the ass to get going again, and I just don't know how to do it. I've been keeping plenty busy with the college tour, and I've got Easter week off, but I can tell you right now what's going to happen; I'm going to get home from New Mexico, and I'm going to decompress and spend time with my family who will be hogging my time because they haven't seen me in a month. Then I'm hitting the road again for about three weeks. Hopefully I can shake out some of the dust, but lately I just feel unmotivated. I'm actually only writing this blog to get the juices flowing.

I wish it was just writer's block. I can beat that. I've learned all the tricks. I'm just dodging the task at hand with other bullshit pursuits. The upside is that I've consumed so much news, I'm an expert at most anything going on in the world today. Go ahead, try me.

O.K. I think I've indulged in enough self-flagellation for one day. Maybe I can get some work done now. I'll check in from time to time and tell you how it's going.

Crap. "Family Guy" is on.....

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY