For Valentine's Day, I offer you a little candy heart. A piece on language from Lenny Bruce, as portrayed by the actor Dustin Hoffman in the movie "Lenny." You can find this clip on YouTube if you are so inclined.
Are there any niggers here tonight? Can you turn on the house lights, and could the waiters and waitresses just stop serving for a second? And turn off the spot. Now what did he say? ''Are there any niggers here tonight?'' There's one nigger here. l see him back there working. Let's see. There's two niggers. And between those two niggers sits a kike. And there's another kike.That's two kikes and three niggers. And there's a spic, right? Hm? There's another spic. Ooh, there's a wop. There's a Polack. And then, oh, a couple of greaseballs. There's three lace-curtain lrish Micks. (getting in the face of a large black man in the front row, who glares stoically) And there's one hip, thick, hunky, funky boogie. Boogie, boogie. Mm-mm. l got three kikes. Do l hear five kikes? l got five kikes. Do l hear six spics? Six spics. Do l hear seven niggers? l got seven niggers. Sold American! l'll pass with seven niggers, six spics, five Micks, four kikes, three guineas, and one wop. (to the black man in the front row) You almost punched me out, didn't ya? l was trying to make a point, that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness. Dig. lf President Kennedy would just go on television and say ''l'd like to introduce you to all the niggers in my cabinet.'' And if he'd just say ''nigger, nigger'' to every nigger he saw, ''Boogie, boogie, boogie, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger,'' till it didn't mean anything any more! Then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school.
Did Lenny get it right? In the 1950's, when segregation and Jim Crow laws were still prevalent, he probably did. However, today, we have experienced what Lenny talked about. The "N" word (so vile that we dare not speak it's name) has become workaday, commonplace, and no black kid comes home from school crying because someone called him a nigger. Because someone probably did, and it was most likely another black kid. And it doesn't mean anything in that context. Now if I, as a white man, used the word, I might get a few seconds grace as my intent was decoded, but for the most part, it is not allowed. And it shouldn't be allowed. The "N" word is a sword in the hands of a white person for which the black person has no equivalent. I'm Italian, but if a black man called me "wop," I would feel nothing.....that pejorative has it's roots in an immigrant situation of over 100 years ago. The same goes for "Dago," or any other slur. In fact, the worst thing you can call a white man of any extraction is "racist," which conjures a profile of low breeding and lack of education.
The NAACP (an anachronism in itself...blacks have rejected the label "colored" generations ago) held a funeral for the "N" word a few years ago, in an attempt to discontinue it's use by blacks. By and large, the funeral was a failure, because we continue to hear blacks desecrate the corpse in everyday conversation. Does that mean the "N" word is a ghost, risen from the dead? And if it is a ghost, is it fair to call it a spook?
Ouch.
And dropping the final "r" is no tonic, either. Proclaiming to someone "that's my niggah right there" is only a bastardized (white) attempt at using the word without saying it (or sayin' it), and it is false in it's conception and in it's usage. You cannot have your cake and eat it too, chocolate or otherwise.
One thing is for sure, the word is never going to go away. It is part and parcel of a situation that exists in American society, one that declares that what whites want from black people and what blacks want from white people are two different things; whites want blacks to assimilate (talk like us, dress like us, live like us) and blacks want whites to get out of the way (give us our own culture, our own style, our own slang, our own ways). It is uncomfortable when a white person uses black slang or adopts a black style, because it is seen as stealing (and it is). We chide these people as "wiggers" (white niggers) and their company is enjoyed by neither whites nor blacks because they are offensive on two fronts; to whites, they refuse to assimilate and to blacks they refuse to get out of the way. Eminem managed to cross the cultural barrier, (but only with Dre' holding his hand and helping him navigate the stormy waters) while Kid Rock did not, and instead became embraced by lower-class, disenfranchised white kids from the cornfields of Iowa (where such culture must be adopted because surely no reasonable substitute exists).
Richard Pryor famously visited Africa and was asked "Do you see any Niggers here?" (the unspoken answer being "no"), and the reason the answer was no was because they did not have the sense of wretchedness present in the black underclass of America (now largely joined by poor, uneducated whites in large numbers). I have no cure for this condition. Until we find a way to raise everyone up, in education, economic status, and human dignity, we will continue to hear the "N" word, and every funeral, mispronunciation, or hip, comic treatment won't do us a bit of good.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas
I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new year, just as I have done for years. This year, unlike those in the past, finds my mind filled with questions and my heart filled with uncertainty.
The arguments against Christmas are fairly common, and you've probably heard them before; the discussion of Christ's birth not occurring in December and the celebration being held in the winter to coincide with a pagan celebration as not to get early Christians into hot water; the argument against the crass commercialism of the holiday, the drive to spend more, the hectic pace of the holiday and the entire month that precedes it.
I've been brought to question the entire holiday in a crisis of faith; I discovered this year the parallels between the life of Jesus Christ and the Egyptian god Osiris. Osiris, otherwise known as "The Good Shepherd" was a savior god who died and was resurrected, was born of a virgin, was baptized by a man who was later beheaded, and was betrayed by a close confidant. When I was young, I was always sceptical about religion and later came to trust in Jesus Christ, and now I'm growing sceptical again. If Christ is nothing more than a construct, cobbled together using elements of Egyptian mythology, then my religion is based on a lie and my faith is unfounded. If Christ is really the Messiah and his tale has been embellished by men, then I question their purposes for the deception and don't know what exactly to believe. Christmas, then, falls under the microscope and becomes suspect either way.
I would happily follow a false religion, or a true religion that was "beefed up" with pagan lore, so long as that religion helped me live a just life, be kind to my fellow man and do no harm. In that case, I would welcome the deception. The one factor that keeps me hanging on is that the divinity of Jesus Christ is so widespread and has been so strong throughout history that I find it hard to believe that so many were successfully misled, but the parallels to the Osiris myth (that predates Christ) are hard to ignore. It is difficult, to say the least, to swallow the idea that it is simply a coincidence.
I dealt with this crisis of confidence for about six months, and then December 7th came and it was time to put up the tree. So, then, I decorated my house this year and put up our Christmas tree, largely for the enjoyment of our five-year-old, Harmony. I explained that the giving of gifts to children on Christmas was a tradition to remind us of the gifts that the Magi brought baby Jesus, but she didn't entirely understand it; she just knows that Santa Claus has eight reindeer, nine if you count Rudolph, and that the front porch was pretty with the multi-colored lights, but that we needed some reindeer or a snowman or Santa Claus (maybe next year...I cut down two trees in order to decorate the porch this year).
A screening of A Christmas Carol starring Patrick Stewart the other night also brought pause; the tale by Victorian author Charles Dickens addressed the ills of his time. Dickens was commenting on the poverty caused by the industrial age and the subsequent harsh treatment of the poor in England. Using the formula of the day, Dickens identified a social problem (the mistreatment of the poor by the wealthy and powerful), symbolized that problem with one character (Ebeneezer Scrooge), caused that character to go through trials (the visitation by the three ghosts representing memory, empathy and fear of death), and finally to undergo a conversion (purchasing a Christmas goose for the Cratchit family, raising Bob's wages and becoming a "second father" to Tiny Tim.
This brought pause because it is the first time I have ever seen a production of A Christmas Carol and fully understood the message; this is not the author's depiction of the conversion of one man, but an attempt to cause society, his society, to look upon itself and correct what he perceived to be their grave mistakes. That is what I wish to do. There are too many in this country that feel that we all must "go it alone," that government, which represents the common will and common desires, is intrusive and oppressive rather than supportive of our collective well-being. We spend on guns without thinking but weigh the price of butter, we trumpet personal responsibility but whimper in defense of the weakest among us. We wish each other Merry Christmas without much thought as to how likely that is to the recipient of our well-wishes and in the absence of that likelihood what we could do to insure it or provide it.
We need to change that, and fast. We need to be lovers of men and not profit, fearful of ignorance and want, celebrants of our families and our communities and our children. We need true joy, whether it come from the deep abiding faith in a messiah, born in a manger two thousand years ago, or in the smile on the face of a child who looks up to us and trusts us to maintain the spirit of generosity and protection, or to allow ourselves to soak in the presence of our fellow man, tipping his hat and wishing "Merry Christmas," and knowing that Peace on Earth is something that resides in all of our hearts.
The arguments against Christmas are fairly common, and you've probably heard them before; the discussion of Christ's birth not occurring in December and the celebration being held in the winter to coincide with a pagan celebration as not to get early Christians into hot water; the argument against the crass commercialism of the holiday, the drive to spend more, the hectic pace of the holiday and the entire month that precedes it.
I've been brought to question the entire holiday in a crisis of faith; I discovered this year the parallels between the life of Jesus Christ and the Egyptian god Osiris. Osiris, otherwise known as "The Good Shepherd" was a savior god who died and was resurrected, was born of a virgin, was baptized by a man who was later beheaded, and was betrayed by a close confidant. When I was young, I was always sceptical about religion and later came to trust in Jesus Christ, and now I'm growing sceptical again. If Christ is nothing more than a construct, cobbled together using elements of Egyptian mythology, then my religion is based on a lie and my faith is unfounded. If Christ is really the Messiah and his tale has been embellished by men, then I question their purposes for the deception and don't know what exactly to believe. Christmas, then, falls under the microscope and becomes suspect either way.
I would happily follow a false religion, or a true religion that was "beefed up" with pagan lore, so long as that religion helped me live a just life, be kind to my fellow man and do no harm. In that case, I would welcome the deception. The one factor that keeps me hanging on is that the divinity of Jesus Christ is so widespread and has been so strong throughout history that I find it hard to believe that so many were successfully misled, but the parallels to the Osiris myth (that predates Christ) are hard to ignore. It is difficult, to say the least, to swallow the idea that it is simply a coincidence.
I dealt with this crisis of confidence for about six months, and then December 7th came and it was time to put up the tree. So, then, I decorated my house this year and put up our Christmas tree, largely for the enjoyment of our five-year-old, Harmony. I explained that the giving of gifts to children on Christmas was a tradition to remind us of the gifts that the Magi brought baby Jesus, but she didn't entirely understand it; she just knows that Santa Claus has eight reindeer, nine if you count Rudolph, and that the front porch was pretty with the multi-colored lights, but that we needed some reindeer or a snowman or Santa Claus (maybe next year...I cut down two trees in order to decorate the porch this year).
A screening of A Christmas Carol starring Patrick Stewart the other night also brought pause; the tale by Victorian author Charles Dickens addressed the ills of his time. Dickens was commenting on the poverty caused by the industrial age and the subsequent harsh treatment of the poor in England. Using the formula of the day, Dickens identified a social problem (the mistreatment of the poor by the wealthy and powerful), symbolized that problem with one character (Ebeneezer Scrooge), caused that character to go through trials (the visitation by the three ghosts representing memory, empathy and fear of death), and finally to undergo a conversion (purchasing a Christmas goose for the Cratchit family, raising Bob's wages and becoming a "second father" to Tiny Tim.
This brought pause because it is the first time I have ever seen a production of A Christmas Carol and fully understood the message; this is not the author's depiction of the conversion of one man, but an attempt to cause society, his society, to look upon itself and correct what he perceived to be their grave mistakes. That is what I wish to do. There are too many in this country that feel that we all must "go it alone," that government, which represents the common will and common desires, is intrusive and oppressive rather than supportive of our collective well-being. We spend on guns without thinking but weigh the price of butter, we trumpet personal responsibility but whimper in defense of the weakest among us. We wish each other Merry Christmas without much thought as to how likely that is to the recipient of our well-wishes and in the absence of that likelihood what we could do to insure it or provide it.
We need to change that, and fast. We need to be lovers of men and not profit, fearful of ignorance and want, celebrants of our families and our communities and our children. We need true joy, whether it come from the deep abiding faith in a messiah, born in a manger two thousand years ago, or in the smile on the face of a child who looks up to us and trusts us to maintain the spirit of generosity and protection, or to allow ourselves to soak in the presence of our fellow man, tipping his hat and wishing "Merry Christmas," and knowing that Peace on Earth is something that resides in all of our hearts.
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Miracle (Queen)
Well now.
Thanks for checking in. I always appreciate anyone who reads me, particularly these days when there's so many other things going on; war, economy, health care, angst, rhetoric, reality TV shows, sports, etc, etc, etc.
I'm a comedian, but when I blog, it's never funny. I intentionally write it straight, for the purposes of having a journal that my daughter (or anyone who cares) can someday peruse to see what it was like being me. It's a tool to capture the essence of my day-to-day life, working as a professional entertainer.
Well, last time around, I talked about some medical issues I had with my kidneys. I was scheduled for a CAT scan and was waiting for the insurance company to give the thumbs-up.
Instead, they stuck the thumb in my eye.
The rejection letter read, in part; "Based on CareCore medical necessity criteria for 72912-CAT Scan of hips without dye: the history provided of a 42 year old male with recent worsening kidney function does not demonstrate sufficient medical necessity to justify certification of the examination at this time. There is no evidence of flank pain, blood in the urine or other clinical findings or conditions indicating the requested study."
I was given the right to appeal, but basically my doctor was told to move forward with my treatment without the opportunity to fully diagnose my condition. The thing I was never able to completely understand was the statement that there was no evidence of blood in the urine, when that is the condition that prompted my nephrologist to order the test in the first place.
I was angry when I got word that I was rejected. I'm sure a lot of that was fear, but it came out as anger. For a few weeks, I worried that I might have cancer, kidney failure that would lead to dialysis, or who knows what else. The cancer situation is one that we talk about quite frequently in comedy. These days, a lot of clubs are smoke-free, but when you're an old war-horse like me, you've spent many a night in a comedy club that looked like London when the fog rolled in. Cancer is starting to make its presence known in quite a few comedians, and we've already lost a few.
My nephrologist decided to go forward with blood cultures. I provided all the blood they asked for, about 11 tubes, and a urine sample. I had to go back once because they merged two of the samples, one had to be kept warm and the other kept cool, and they put 'em together. On Thursday, I saw my regular doctor, and he prompted me to make a call to the nephrologist. I did, and received some wonderful news.
My nephrologist's assistant told me that the blood was gone from my urine. The bacteria had disappeared, too.
While I was down in Texas and Oklahoma the week before, I had some chest congestion that turned out to be a minor strep infection. Due to the fragile nature of my kidneys, it was manifesting as blood in my urine (bacteria, too, but you couldn't see it). I took three days that I had off to rest in a hotel room, drinking water, cranberry juice, taking zinc (I'm not allowed anything stronger) and staying warm, which wasn't difficult. I was able to kick the disease, with only a few remnants by the time I got home.
Last Thursday, I was getting ready to perform at Danny Liberto's open mic at Dewey's, and my nephrologist called me....this was almost 9 o'clock at night. He confirmed what his assistant told me, and added that my case was not at all typical. In his words, a strep infection severe enough to cause blood to appear in my urine should not have been so quickly dismissed by my body at my age; a clearing-up of infections of this type are typical only in pediatric cases. He went on to say that in medicine, you certainly don't want to be interesting; you're in much better shape to be an average, run-of-the-mill type case. It's easier to be diagnosed and treated.
Still, if I was to be atypical, I'm glad I wound up on this side of the coin rather than contracting some sort of kidney-based Ebola virus that no one had ever seen before.
I joked a little with the doctor, pointing out that comedians usually live into their 80's, 90's and more and that measured on that scale, I am about adolescent in my development. Whether or not that had anything to do with me getting over this brief health scare is questionable, but at least I'm out of the woods, assuming that a CAT Scan wouldn't have revealed any latent illness that is just waiting to come and claim me somewhere down the line.
The lessons to be learned here seem to be 1) Drink water and cranberry juice, 2) Worry is the misuse of imagination, and 3) There is something terribly wrong when an insurance agent who is supposed to be facilitating health care is allowed to come between a doctor and his patient.
I went and delivered another round of blood samples today, as my nephrologist wants to keep monitoring me for any change (oh, and by the way, the last time around, my declining kidney values actually went up, which was nothing short of amazing to me) and I have another appointment next week with my primary health care physician. This week, it's off to Maine, where I have a couple of standup comedy performances scheduled at two of the University of Maine campuses.
Thanks to everyone who checked in on me along the way. I appreciate you all.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Thanks for checking in. I always appreciate anyone who reads me, particularly these days when there's so many other things going on; war, economy, health care, angst, rhetoric, reality TV shows, sports, etc, etc, etc.
I'm a comedian, but when I blog, it's never funny. I intentionally write it straight, for the purposes of having a journal that my daughter (or anyone who cares) can someday peruse to see what it was like being me. It's a tool to capture the essence of my day-to-day life, working as a professional entertainer.
Well, last time around, I talked about some medical issues I had with my kidneys. I was scheduled for a CAT scan and was waiting for the insurance company to give the thumbs-up.
Instead, they stuck the thumb in my eye.
The rejection letter read, in part; "Based on CareCore medical necessity criteria for 72912-CAT Scan of hips without dye: the history provided of a 42 year old male with recent worsening kidney function does not demonstrate sufficient medical necessity to justify certification of the examination at this time. There is no evidence of flank pain, blood in the urine or other clinical findings or conditions indicating the requested study."
I was given the right to appeal, but basically my doctor was told to move forward with my treatment without the opportunity to fully diagnose my condition. The thing I was never able to completely understand was the statement that there was no evidence of blood in the urine, when that is the condition that prompted my nephrologist to order the test in the first place.
I was angry when I got word that I was rejected. I'm sure a lot of that was fear, but it came out as anger. For a few weeks, I worried that I might have cancer, kidney failure that would lead to dialysis, or who knows what else. The cancer situation is one that we talk about quite frequently in comedy. These days, a lot of clubs are smoke-free, but when you're an old war-horse like me, you've spent many a night in a comedy club that looked like London when the fog rolled in. Cancer is starting to make its presence known in quite a few comedians, and we've already lost a few.
My nephrologist decided to go forward with blood cultures. I provided all the blood they asked for, about 11 tubes, and a urine sample. I had to go back once because they merged two of the samples, one had to be kept warm and the other kept cool, and they put 'em together. On Thursday, I saw my regular doctor, and he prompted me to make a call to the nephrologist. I did, and received some wonderful news.
My nephrologist's assistant told me that the blood was gone from my urine. The bacteria had disappeared, too.
While I was down in Texas and Oklahoma the week before, I had some chest congestion that turned out to be a minor strep infection. Due to the fragile nature of my kidneys, it was manifesting as blood in my urine (bacteria, too, but you couldn't see it). I took three days that I had off to rest in a hotel room, drinking water, cranberry juice, taking zinc (I'm not allowed anything stronger) and staying warm, which wasn't difficult. I was able to kick the disease, with only a few remnants by the time I got home.
Last Thursday, I was getting ready to perform at Danny Liberto's open mic at Dewey's, and my nephrologist called me....this was almost 9 o'clock at night. He confirmed what his assistant told me, and added that my case was not at all typical. In his words, a strep infection severe enough to cause blood to appear in my urine should not have been so quickly dismissed by my body at my age; a clearing-up of infections of this type are typical only in pediatric cases. He went on to say that in medicine, you certainly don't want to be interesting; you're in much better shape to be an average, run-of-the-mill type case. It's easier to be diagnosed and treated.
Still, if I was to be atypical, I'm glad I wound up on this side of the coin rather than contracting some sort of kidney-based Ebola virus that no one had ever seen before.
I joked a little with the doctor, pointing out that comedians usually live into their 80's, 90's and more and that measured on that scale, I am about adolescent in my development. Whether or not that had anything to do with me getting over this brief health scare is questionable, but at least I'm out of the woods, assuming that a CAT Scan wouldn't have revealed any latent illness that is just waiting to come and claim me somewhere down the line.
The lessons to be learned here seem to be 1) Drink water and cranberry juice, 2) Worry is the misuse of imagination, and 3) There is something terribly wrong when an insurance agent who is supposed to be facilitating health care is allowed to come between a doctor and his patient.
I went and delivered another round of blood samples today, as my nephrologist wants to keep monitoring me for any change (oh, and by the way, the last time around, my declining kidney values actually went up, which was nothing short of amazing to me) and I have another appointment next week with my primary health care physician. This week, it's off to Maine, where I have a couple of standup comedy performances scheduled at two of the University of Maine campuses.
Thanks to everyone who checked in on me along the way. I appreciate you all.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Monday, October 26, 2009
Somebody Get Me A Doctor (Van Halen)
I'm not dead. Not yet, anyway.
According to my primary blog home at http://ralphtettascomedyroadtrip.blogspot.com/, I haven't written since August 3rd of this year. That's o.k. with me, I guess, because I've been busy, and not much has prompted me to want to share. Even now, I'm only writing out of guilt and that I feel I owe it to myself to put something down in print, just to get it out of my head.
I'm not a healthy person. And by that, I mean physically healthy. Where I'm at mentally and spiritually is a good place, I think. I've picked up some solid coping skills and I like who I am much more than the person I was ten years ago. I'm not a hot-head, I don't scare as easily, and I try to consider the other person's situation before I judge them too harshly. In my opinion, I'm doing pretty good for myself from a mental health standpoint.
Physically, I need some work.
I could list off the maladies, and all the usual suspects would be there, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea; but the worst one is diabetes. I'm a type-II candidate, which means "adult onset." My pancreas doesn't make enough insulin to keep my blood sugar at a manageable level. I take oral medication in lieu of insulin injections, and that's fine with me; they work like a charm.
Unfortunately, diabetes has led to a loss of kidney function. I'd been seeing a nephrologist and we saw my kidney values decreasing as time went on, but this last Friday I went in and we discovered that I have some blood in my urine. I'm no doctor, but even I knew that wasn't good. A week or so ago I was on the road, and noticed my urine had gotten very dark, like the color of A-1 steak sauce, and then lightened up. I was out of blood pressure medicine and was waiting to get back home to get my prescription filled, so that may have had something to do with it, but my nephrologist ordered a CAT scan for me for this week, just to make sure I didn't have a blockage or anything.
The only thing we're waiting for right now is for insurance to give the o.k. for the CAT scan. An insurance company has gotten between me and my doctor. Not the government; an insurance company.
I don't know how you feel about health care reform, but I've pretty much made up my mind.
I'll keep you posted as my condition is diagnosed and treated.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
According to my primary blog home at http://ralphtettascomedyroadtrip.blogspot.com/, I haven't written since August 3rd of this year. That's o.k. with me, I guess, because I've been busy, and not much has prompted me to want to share. Even now, I'm only writing out of guilt and that I feel I owe it to myself to put something down in print, just to get it out of my head.
I'm not a healthy person. And by that, I mean physically healthy. Where I'm at mentally and spiritually is a good place, I think. I've picked up some solid coping skills and I like who I am much more than the person I was ten years ago. I'm not a hot-head, I don't scare as easily, and I try to consider the other person's situation before I judge them too harshly. In my opinion, I'm doing pretty good for myself from a mental health standpoint.
Physically, I need some work.
I could list off the maladies, and all the usual suspects would be there, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea; but the worst one is diabetes. I'm a type-II candidate, which means "adult onset." My pancreas doesn't make enough insulin to keep my blood sugar at a manageable level. I take oral medication in lieu of insulin injections, and that's fine with me; they work like a charm.
Unfortunately, diabetes has led to a loss of kidney function. I'd been seeing a nephrologist and we saw my kidney values decreasing as time went on, but this last Friday I went in and we discovered that I have some blood in my urine. I'm no doctor, but even I knew that wasn't good. A week or so ago I was on the road, and noticed my urine had gotten very dark, like the color of A-1 steak sauce, and then lightened up. I was out of blood pressure medicine and was waiting to get back home to get my prescription filled, so that may have had something to do with it, but my nephrologist ordered a CAT scan for me for this week, just to make sure I didn't have a blockage or anything.
The only thing we're waiting for right now is for insurance to give the o.k. for the CAT scan. An insurance company has gotten between me and my doctor. Not the government; an insurance company.
I don't know how you feel about health care reform, but I've pretty much made up my mind.
I'll keep you posted as my condition is diagnosed and treated.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Monday, August 3, 2009
Eat It ("Weird Al" Yankovic)
Life is what happens when you're making other plans.
When last I wrote, other than bitching about Blue Oyster Cult (NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed!), I was updating everyone on the goings-on in the life of me, Ralph Tetta, Mr. Big-Shot Comedian.
Our family picnic came off *almost* as planned, with mom driving up from Florida with her friend Robert. Only problem was that when she got here, she had a heart attack. It was a minor one, but a heart attack just the same, and she missed the picnic and spent the week at Rochester General Hospital. After five bypass surgeries, she's resting and recuperating at an assisted living facility, and she'll be heading back to Florida in a week or so. The bum deal is that she also missed the Donroe family reunion, as her father (my grandfather) was one of eight children, so we have dozens of cousins that we'd never met before.
My brother Christopher and his family made the trip in from Syracuse to attend the picnic, and then got to go see mom in the hospital, so she had no shortage of visitors. Pamela sent me an e-mail after the fact about the statistics regarding the picnic, which made me laugh a little bit because I have a live album from a British band called Saxon and in the liner notes, they go through their live tour that the album was recorded on and talk about how many guitar strings they went through, how many tea bags (because they're British, y'see) and it smacked of that. For the record, we had 39 guests, went through almost a whole case of burgers (40), a case of hot dogs (32), two pounds of Italian sausage (thanks Tim!), five 2-litre bottles of soda, 2 gallons of iced tea, various chips, dips, and dishes-to-pass including a veggie tray, bean salad, fruit salad, excellent chili, mac salad, potato and broccoli salad, two kinds of cake (none left over of either....go figure) and after it was all over, we donated 2 cases of leftover, unopened hot dogs and the associated hot dog rolls to the Open Door Mission....we bought too much, but Pam had coupons.
Sunday night was my third of three shows at D'Youville College in Buffalo, and Ray drove along with me. On the way, we stopped off at Chef Mike Kolady's house to drop off my sound system for a performance at his 45th birthday party (Happy Birthday Mike!) by Rochester comics Joe Fico and Pat Duffy. I would have liked to have performed, but was already committed to the college show. We dropped off the sound system, and while I was getting things ready, checking levels and all that, Ray was getting himself some of Chef's fine barbecue, and fine it was. Ray got a big "to-go" plate of ribs, chicken, various salads, and we snagged two Diet Pepsi's with lime for the trip. I didn't eat, because I know I would have been wearing barbecue sauce by the time I got to Buffalo. I had to wrestle with the mic stand because the clip lost it's screw, and we jury-rigged a replacement by putting a bent roofing nail through it. Not the prettiest repair job in the world, but it worked.
The gig was a good one, an orientation show for new students, and even though it was the smallest of the three groups, it was the most lively and the kids really got into it and enjoyed themselves, which is the essence of the live game show. If the kids don't want to play, there's nothing I can do to make the show a success other than throw money into the crowd.
After the show, I delivered some flowers and cannolis to some of Pamela's friends who had been in a car accident earlier in the month, and it was very late, between midnight and 1 AM, and after getting the "get well" presents at a Wegman's that was open all night, we rolled the van down Pamela's friends' street, looking for the right house number in the pitch black. Finally, I got fed up at my night-blindness and hung the plastic shopping bag on the door of the house I thought was the correct one, figuring that if it wasn't correct, they would enjoy the flowers and cannolis anyway (it turned out to be the right one).
Ray and I got back into town by 2 A.M., and had to make our way back to Mike's to pick up my sound system. The gear was out in Mike's shed, and his back yard was pitch black. Mike was still up, and shooting pool with some friends, and while I was fumbling my way around in the dark trying to find the gear, Mike was helping Ray light a tiki torch so that we'd have some light. I somehow found the mic stand by waving my arm around in front of me, and then moved up the stand to find the mic, and then followed the cord down to the amplifier. Once I got the cord wound properly, it was a piece of cake to find the bag that the mic and cords went in, and start my way back up Mike's steeply graded back yard. While all this was going on, Ray was getting the tiki torch and then moving towards me, forgetting that the yard had a very steep slope. He slid down the wet grass, landed in the ashes of what had been a fire pit earlier in the evening, and the tiki torch went out. All I saw from my vantage point was the light of the tiki bobbing as Ray walked, and then flashing quickly to the ground before being extinguished, followed by Ray's cursing and spitting. As I had gotten back too late to enjoy any of the barbecue, we then made our way to Jay's Diner for some late night food, and I ate my cheeseburger plate with a tired satisfaction. At least I didn't have jury duty the next day.
Yeah, that's right, I pulled jury duty as I seem to do every three years, and had put my service off until July. They originally were asking for my service in May, but my contractually-obligated college tour wouldn't allow it. My number was ridiculously high (945), and I checked the website dutifully each evening to see if I was required to attend, but the numbers never got higher than the 500's. I had scheduled a show on the Friday, figuring that I wouldn't be called, and by Thursday night, I had been released from my jury duty obligations. I guess the trick was getting the duty postponed, because they put me at the end of the new list, which is the same as not being called at all. I think I may have found a loophole in the system for use at a later date; not that I don't want to do my civic duty and serve on a jury, but I have a job that requires me to travel and more than that, be able to schedule months out in advance. If I'm on a jury that goes three weeks, there's no way I could predict something like that without an awful lot of notice.
So on Friday morning, Ray piled into the car with me and off we headed to the Wit's End club located in the Ramada Inn and Conference Center in Morgantown, West Virginia. We had an easy drive down, fueled by Sheetz Made-To-Order sandwiches, satellite radio, and conversation courtesy of over 20 years of friendship. I can't remember when I laughed so much. We got into Morgantown, checked into the room, and then headed back out so that I could get a haircut....I was due. After a nap, I shaved and showered and we headed down to the club and I introduced Ray to Larry Nelson, the host of the long-running comedy night. I couldn't coerce Ray into doing a guest spot, but Larry did, and Ray did great. My feature act, Washington D.C.'s Clay Miles, did a great job of revving the 40 or so people up for my act, and I went balls-out and did my thing. The weirdest point of the night was when a West Virginia state trooper appeared in the doorway of the lounge, suddenly silencing the crowd, which consisted of 36 white redneck bikers, and four black people. And don't forget the loud-mouthed guinea on the stage! Come to find out, he was looking for a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) who had battered his female companion after an evening of imbibing in the hotel bar, then trashed his first-floor hotel room and snuck out a side door.
The next morning, I grabbed breakfast down in the restaurant (best hot complimentary breakfast buffet in the business!) and trotted over to Wal-Mart to fetch watermelons and ice. We were planning on attending the Natarelli's (Steve and Eileen) Redneck Luau on Saturday night, and Pam committed me to bringing vodka-infused watermelon. I told her about the technique, but I never tried it before and she thought it sounded like great fun. It isn't great fun, by the way. It's a lot more fun to eat than it is to create. I had brought a big cooler with me in my trunk, and purchased a knife at the Dollar Store and vanilla-flavored vodka at a liquor store on Friday. I dumped 20 lbs of ice and two seedless watermelons into the big cooler, cut a hole in one of the melons, and turned the bottle of vodka upside-down and shoved it into the hole. Long story short, it works, but you have to keep turning the bottle so the vodka can work it's way into the melon. I kept the other melon clean, for the kids and anyone else who just wanted melon but no booze.
We drove back to Rochester, and coming through Buffalo in the home stretch, the skies grew dark and it started to hail and rain. It was real wrath-of-God stuff, and large men with big pickup trucks were pulling their vehicles over underneath bridges to escape the weather. Meanwhile, I'm slooshing along in the water and ice in my Toyota Camry, a Japanese roller-skate careening down the I-90. I got home, dropped Ray off at home, changed clothes, picked up Pam and Harmony, and off we headed to the Natarelli's. It was a fine day, and unfortunately we missed some of the earlier festivities, but the food was good, the watermelon went over pretty well, and we got to see a water-spout courtesy of the lakeside view of Steve's back porch. Another part of our indoor fun included watching the weather report on TV to decide if my house was still standing.
The next week was a whole bunch of nothing, and it was planned that way months ago, deciding to take some family time and enjoy my family and some nice outdoor activities. Well, up here in Rochester, it's been constant piss-rain all summer, so none of that was happening. Thursday night, I made my way out to Chet Wild's Open-Mic-A-Palooza, a showcase at the Comedy Club that wound up featuring 30 comedians. You heard me right....the show went three and half hours. I went on at the end, after spending some time around the corner with my mom, showing her pictures on the internet of the family reunion we both missed. I don't know how the remaining folks stuck around for the last comic (me) after over three hours of show, but they did.
Friday, I had a gig out at the Cedar House in Skaneateles, NY, with special guests Ray Salah and Travis Worth. After picking up some replacement parts for my sound system (that sometimes seems to get more work than I do), we headed out. I replaced the roofing-nail clip with a new one courtesy of the Guitar Outlet (four bucks, not bad) and purchased a new, longer cord for the mic. Come to find out, the cord was incompatible, but I had back-ups, so it didn't kill the show. What *did* kill the show was the first sunny day in Upstate New York this year, and we drew far fewer folks than we did the last time I was there. The show was fun, and I sold some CD's after the show. We would have stuck around, but there was literally no one in the place, not even bowling, so we headed back to Rochester, stopping off at a Buffalo Wild Wings for some food because I hadn't eaten all day. Just a word of caution....the mango habanero wings are HOT, and they mean it. Get the double bleu cheese if you know what's good for you, or skip the middle man entirely and just drink the liquid out of your car battery.
Saturday was a day of rest and recuperation, and then last night, I performed with Rochester's Dan Viola at a private party fundraiser for the Webster (high school) Warriors football team. I seemed to have remembered the words "clean show" being uttered when I was booked months ago, and I double-checked that with Joe at the club, and he said (quote) "Nah, you can do what you want. I came here on purpose to see Dark Ralph."
Now, Dark Ralph is my doppelganger, my other persona. Sometimes, I get tired of being Mr. Jolly Pants, and I let my inhibitions go and I wind up saying some pretty outrageous stuff. And I'm proud to say that I let Dark Ralph off the leash last night, but not so much that he bit anyone, just so that he could eat a little bit. I used some coarse language, and some overt topicality, but wasn't even as raw as I usually am. I was definitely not *clean*.
I did an hour after Danny's set, and the crowd seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, and I worked material in with some crowd work, and after the show, I got a really solid ovation, and made my way back to the sound booth. Mark, the house manager, shook my hand and said "You know, this was supposed to be a clean show, right?" and all the color drained out of my face. I guess they stopped counting f-bombs at around 85, which may have been exaggerated for comic effect, but is probably in the right neighborhood. I definitely left at least a dozen in a plastic bag on somebody's front door handle.
The folks shook my hand afterward, including the lady who was paying the club the money, and I apologized because I didn't know the parameters, and she said that it was fine and that the group really liked me. I wouldn't have had a problem working clean, I do it all the time, but I was working off of faulty intelligence. Still, the client had no problem, so I went home with my head held high, if not a little red in the cheeks.
This week, I start my August session of comedy classes at the Comedy Club, and I'm looking forward to a new batch of students along with some of the folks from the June session looking to brush up their skills. The game show tour starts up again on August 16th in Huntsville, Alabama, so I'll have plenty to do along with my teaching schedule.
The opposite of burn out is rust out. I've done 'em both, and given my choice, I'll take the burn.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
When last I wrote, other than bitching about Blue Oyster Cult (NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed!), I was updating everyone on the goings-on in the life of me, Ralph Tetta, Mr. Big-Shot Comedian.
Our family picnic came off *almost* as planned, with mom driving up from Florida with her friend Robert. Only problem was that when she got here, she had a heart attack. It was a minor one, but a heart attack just the same, and she missed the picnic and spent the week at Rochester General Hospital. After five bypass surgeries, she's resting and recuperating at an assisted living facility, and she'll be heading back to Florida in a week or so. The bum deal is that she also missed the Donroe family reunion, as her father (my grandfather) was one of eight children, so we have dozens of cousins that we'd never met before.
My brother Christopher and his family made the trip in from Syracuse to attend the picnic, and then got to go see mom in the hospital, so she had no shortage of visitors. Pamela sent me an e-mail after the fact about the statistics regarding the picnic, which made me laugh a little bit because I have a live album from a British band called Saxon and in the liner notes, they go through their live tour that the album was recorded on and talk about how many guitar strings they went through, how many tea bags (because they're British, y'see) and it smacked of that. For the record, we had 39 guests, went through almost a whole case of burgers (40), a case of hot dogs (32), two pounds of Italian sausage (thanks Tim!), five 2-litre bottles of soda, 2 gallons of iced tea, various chips, dips, and dishes-to-pass including a veggie tray, bean salad, fruit salad, excellent chili, mac salad, potato and broccoli salad, two kinds of cake (none left over of either....go figure) and after it was all over, we donated 2 cases of leftover, unopened hot dogs and the associated hot dog rolls to the Open Door Mission....we bought too much, but Pam had coupons.
Sunday night was my third of three shows at D'Youville College in Buffalo, and Ray drove along with me. On the way, we stopped off at Chef Mike Kolady's house to drop off my sound system for a performance at his 45th birthday party (Happy Birthday Mike!) by Rochester comics Joe Fico and Pat Duffy. I would have liked to have performed, but was already committed to the college show. We dropped off the sound system, and while I was getting things ready, checking levels and all that, Ray was getting himself some of Chef's fine barbecue, and fine it was. Ray got a big "to-go" plate of ribs, chicken, various salads, and we snagged two Diet Pepsi's with lime for the trip. I didn't eat, because I know I would have been wearing barbecue sauce by the time I got to Buffalo. I had to wrestle with the mic stand because the clip lost it's screw, and we jury-rigged a replacement by putting a bent roofing nail through it. Not the prettiest repair job in the world, but it worked.
The gig was a good one, an orientation show for new students, and even though it was the smallest of the three groups, it was the most lively and the kids really got into it and enjoyed themselves, which is the essence of the live game show. If the kids don't want to play, there's nothing I can do to make the show a success other than throw money into the crowd.
After the show, I delivered some flowers and cannolis to some of Pamela's friends who had been in a car accident earlier in the month, and it was very late, between midnight and 1 AM, and after getting the "get well" presents at a Wegman's that was open all night, we rolled the van down Pamela's friends' street, looking for the right house number in the pitch black. Finally, I got fed up at my night-blindness and hung the plastic shopping bag on the door of the house I thought was the correct one, figuring that if it wasn't correct, they would enjoy the flowers and cannolis anyway (it turned out to be the right one).
Ray and I got back into town by 2 A.M., and had to make our way back to Mike's to pick up my sound system. The gear was out in Mike's shed, and his back yard was pitch black. Mike was still up, and shooting pool with some friends, and while I was fumbling my way around in the dark trying to find the gear, Mike was helping Ray light a tiki torch so that we'd have some light. I somehow found the mic stand by waving my arm around in front of me, and then moved up the stand to find the mic, and then followed the cord down to the amplifier. Once I got the cord wound properly, it was a piece of cake to find the bag that the mic and cords went in, and start my way back up Mike's steeply graded back yard. While all this was going on, Ray was getting the tiki torch and then moving towards me, forgetting that the yard had a very steep slope. He slid down the wet grass, landed in the ashes of what had been a fire pit earlier in the evening, and the tiki torch went out. All I saw from my vantage point was the light of the tiki bobbing as Ray walked, and then flashing quickly to the ground before being extinguished, followed by Ray's cursing and spitting. As I had gotten back too late to enjoy any of the barbecue, we then made our way to Jay's Diner for some late night food, and I ate my cheeseburger plate with a tired satisfaction. At least I didn't have jury duty the next day.
Yeah, that's right, I pulled jury duty as I seem to do every three years, and had put my service off until July. They originally were asking for my service in May, but my contractually-obligated college tour wouldn't allow it. My number was ridiculously high (945), and I checked the website dutifully each evening to see if I was required to attend, but the numbers never got higher than the 500's. I had scheduled a show on the Friday, figuring that I wouldn't be called, and by Thursday night, I had been released from my jury duty obligations. I guess the trick was getting the duty postponed, because they put me at the end of the new list, which is the same as not being called at all. I think I may have found a loophole in the system for use at a later date; not that I don't want to do my civic duty and serve on a jury, but I have a job that requires me to travel and more than that, be able to schedule months out in advance. If I'm on a jury that goes three weeks, there's no way I could predict something like that without an awful lot of notice.
So on Friday morning, Ray piled into the car with me and off we headed to the Wit's End club located in the Ramada Inn and Conference Center in Morgantown, West Virginia. We had an easy drive down, fueled by Sheetz Made-To-Order sandwiches, satellite radio, and conversation courtesy of over 20 years of friendship. I can't remember when I laughed so much. We got into Morgantown, checked into the room, and then headed back out so that I could get a haircut....I was due. After a nap, I shaved and showered and we headed down to the club and I introduced Ray to Larry Nelson, the host of the long-running comedy night. I couldn't coerce Ray into doing a guest spot, but Larry did, and Ray did great. My feature act, Washington D.C.'s Clay Miles, did a great job of revving the 40 or so people up for my act, and I went balls-out and did my thing. The weirdest point of the night was when a West Virginia state trooper appeared in the doorway of the lounge, suddenly silencing the crowd, which consisted of 36 white redneck bikers, and four black people. And don't forget the loud-mouthed guinea on the stage! Come to find out, he was looking for a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) who had battered his female companion after an evening of imbibing in the hotel bar, then trashed his first-floor hotel room and snuck out a side door.
The next morning, I grabbed breakfast down in the restaurant (best hot complimentary breakfast buffet in the business!) and trotted over to Wal-Mart to fetch watermelons and ice. We were planning on attending the Natarelli's (Steve and Eileen) Redneck Luau on Saturday night, and Pam committed me to bringing vodka-infused watermelon. I told her about the technique, but I never tried it before and she thought it sounded like great fun. It isn't great fun, by the way. It's a lot more fun to eat than it is to create. I had brought a big cooler with me in my trunk, and purchased a knife at the Dollar Store and vanilla-flavored vodka at a liquor store on Friday. I dumped 20 lbs of ice and two seedless watermelons into the big cooler, cut a hole in one of the melons, and turned the bottle of vodka upside-down and shoved it into the hole. Long story short, it works, but you have to keep turning the bottle so the vodka can work it's way into the melon. I kept the other melon clean, for the kids and anyone else who just wanted melon but no booze.
We drove back to Rochester, and coming through Buffalo in the home stretch, the skies grew dark and it started to hail and rain. It was real wrath-of-God stuff, and large men with big pickup trucks were pulling their vehicles over underneath bridges to escape the weather. Meanwhile, I'm slooshing along in the water and ice in my Toyota Camry, a Japanese roller-skate careening down the I-90. I got home, dropped Ray off at home, changed clothes, picked up Pam and Harmony, and off we headed to the Natarelli's. It was a fine day, and unfortunately we missed some of the earlier festivities, but the food was good, the watermelon went over pretty well, and we got to see a water-spout courtesy of the lakeside view of Steve's back porch. Another part of our indoor fun included watching the weather report on TV to decide if my house was still standing.
The next week was a whole bunch of nothing, and it was planned that way months ago, deciding to take some family time and enjoy my family and some nice outdoor activities. Well, up here in Rochester, it's been constant piss-rain all summer, so none of that was happening. Thursday night, I made my way out to Chet Wild's Open-Mic-A-Palooza, a showcase at the Comedy Club that wound up featuring 30 comedians. You heard me right....the show went three and half hours. I went on at the end, after spending some time around the corner with my mom, showing her pictures on the internet of the family reunion we both missed. I don't know how the remaining folks stuck around for the last comic (me) after over three hours of show, but they did.
Friday, I had a gig out at the Cedar House in Skaneateles, NY, with special guests Ray Salah and Travis Worth. After picking up some replacement parts for my sound system (that sometimes seems to get more work than I do), we headed out. I replaced the roofing-nail clip with a new one courtesy of the Guitar Outlet (four bucks, not bad) and purchased a new, longer cord for the mic. Come to find out, the cord was incompatible, but I had back-ups, so it didn't kill the show. What *did* kill the show was the first sunny day in Upstate New York this year, and we drew far fewer folks than we did the last time I was there. The show was fun, and I sold some CD's after the show. We would have stuck around, but there was literally no one in the place, not even bowling, so we headed back to Rochester, stopping off at a Buffalo Wild Wings for some food because I hadn't eaten all day. Just a word of caution....the mango habanero wings are HOT, and they mean it. Get the double bleu cheese if you know what's good for you, or skip the middle man entirely and just drink the liquid out of your car battery.
Saturday was a day of rest and recuperation, and then last night, I performed with Rochester's Dan Viola at a private party fundraiser for the Webster (high school) Warriors football team. I seemed to have remembered the words "clean show" being uttered when I was booked months ago, and I double-checked that with Joe at the club, and he said (quote) "Nah, you can do what you want. I came here on purpose to see Dark Ralph."
Now, Dark Ralph is my doppelganger, my other persona. Sometimes, I get tired of being Mr. Jolly Pants, and I let my inhibitions go and I wind up saying some pretty outrageous stuff. And I'm proud to say that I let Dark Ralph off the leash last night, but not so much that he bit anyone, just so that he could eat a little bit. I used some coarse language, and some overt topicality, but wasn't even as raw as I usually am. I was definitely not *clean*.
I did an hour after Danny's set, and the crowd seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, and I worked material in with some crowd work, and after the show, I got a really solid ovation, and made my way back to the sound booth. Mark, the house manager, shook my hand and said "You know, this was supposed to be a clean show, right?" and all the color drained out of my face. I guess they stopped counting f-bombs at around 85, which may have been exaggerated for comic effect, but is probably in the right neighborhood. I definitely left at least a dozen in a plastic bag on somebody's front door handle.
The folks shook my hand afterward, including the lady who was paying the club the money, and I apologized because I didn't know the parameters, and she said that it was fine and that the group really liked me. I wouldn't have had a problem working clean, I do it all the time, but I was working off of faulty intelligence. Still, the client had no problem, so I went home with my head held high, if not a little red in the cheeks.
This week, I start my August session of comedy classes at the Comedy Club, and I'm looking forward to a new batch of students along with some of the folks from the June session looking to brush up their skills. The game show tour starts up again on August 16th in Huntsville, Alabama, so I'll have plenty to do along with my teaching schedule.
The opposite of burn out is rust out. I've done 'em both, and given my choice, I'll take the burn.
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Friday, July 17, 2009
Dr. Music (Blue Oyster Cult)
You know how I figure out if someone I've just met, like at a cocktail party or something, is worth talking to or not? I ask them their favorite Blue Oyster Cult song. Based on the answer, I'll decide how to treat them. There are several levels, like the rings of hell in Dante's "Inferno."
If someone mentions "Harvester of Eyes," "Astronomy," "E.T.I." or something cool like that, we're going drinking. Unkle Roger, dearly departed disc jockey from WCMF, loved "E.T.I." and that made him a cool motherfucker in my book and I hope they find the person responsible for his death because a cool guy like Unk shouldn't go out like that.
The next ring would be songs like "Godzilla" or "Cities On Flame." These are deep cuts, but still get enough radio airplay that they're considered fairly common. A mention of these will still get you into the brotherhood, and I'll talk as long as you want.
The next layer is "Don't Fear The Reaper" or "Burnin' For You." These are the most common Blue Oyster Cult songs and they don't require any special fan appreciation to pooch out. As a matter of fact, if these are the only song titles the person can produce, I usually write them off at that point as a walking waste, either too young to know any better or too lame to matter. I won't be more inconsiderate to them than I would a stranger on a bus who wants to talk about the weather, but basically, we're in the same neighborhood.
Almost to the bottom of the rings, there's the response "I don't have a favorite song" or "Who is Blue Oyster Cult?" or worse yet, "I don't like them." The truth of this is that Blue Oyster Cult was always a group that required a little imagination to like; they weren't singing about love and relationships, and when they did, it was something dark like a suicide pact or a sado-masochistic sexual affair. To admit that you don't like them or didn't take enough time to get familiar with the material basically is an admission that you're a second class person, more concerned with style over substance, and you're part of the problem (and by that, I mean *all* the problems....teenage pregnancy, overcrowding in our cities, hunger in the third world, gang violence, the poisoning of our food supply by contamination, and the prospect that the Earth will be struck by a huge meteor). I'm sorry, even if you think you're innocent, you're not, and if you're not willing to take the blame, then it's my civic duty to hang that shit around your neck. For Christ's sake, just get one of the live albums and work your way through it. It's not that hard, and you'll be a better person for it.
The bottom ring is reserved for folks whose only exposure to BOC is that sketch that Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken did on Saturday Night Live where they talk about needing more cowbell. If you're a young punk and that's all you've got, I blame it on your parents. They obviously didn't love you very much, or realized that you were "special needs" and couldn't handle anything more. That's a shame, but not everyone gets the nurturing that they deserve.
Will Ferrell is a putz. If you think he's funny, you can't name a Blue Oyster Cult song. You need to draw yourself a bath, plug in a toaster and drop that motherfucker right in the water. You'll be doing us all a favor. Actually, if there's any way you can get Ferrell to take a bath with a toaster, that might earn you some points, but you'll still have to learn a song or two.
Now, you're reading my blog, so I automatically think you're a decent person, but you still have to do the work. If for some reason you never got savvy to Blue Oyster Cult, I'll help you along. You can probably look these songs up on YouTube or download them to your iPod or if you're really interested in being a top-notch human being, you can buy the old albums or CD's and listen to them at home. But here's a good list to start with.
From their debut, "Blue Oyster Cult" listen to "Transmaniacon MC," "Stairway To The Stars," "She's as Beautiful As a Foot," "Cities On Flame with Rock and Roll," or "Workshop of the Telescopes."
From "Tyranny and Mutation," try "O.D'd on Life Itself" or "Hot Rails To Hell."
"Secret Treaties" yields "Career of Evil," "Dominance and Submission," "ME 262," "Harvester of Eyes," and "Astronomy."
"Agents of Fortune" features "This Ain't The Summer of Love," "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," and "E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence)."
From the "Spectres" l.p., check out "Godzilla," "R.U. Ready 2 Rock" (doing the initials thing before Prince ever did!) and "Goin' Through The Motions" (featuring Ian Hunter!)
The "Mirrors" album is excellent, and you'll enjoy "I Am The Storm" and "In Thee."
The phenomenally titled "Cultosaurus Erectus" has the fine tracks "Black Blade," "The Marshall Plan" and "Lips In The Hills."
"Fire of Unknown Origin" is the album you may be the most familiar with, with the hit song "Burnin' For You," but also "Veteran of the Psychic Wars" from the Heavy Metal movie soundtrack album.
"The Revolution By Night" is amazing, and you can enjoy the songs "Take Me Away," "Shooting Shark" (featuring bass guitar work by American Idol's Randy Jackson), "Veins" and "Let Go."
"Club Ninja" has a pair of Bob Halligan songs (he's a famous songwriter for many cool bands such as Judas Priest, Helix and others) "Make Rock Not War" and "Beat 'Em Up" but you may also enjoy "Dancin' In The Ruins" and "White Flags." You might also enjoy "Perfect Water."
"Imaginos" needs to be listened to all the way through, but if you're gonna cherry-pick the songs, how about "I Am The One You Warned Me Of," "In The Presence of Another World," "Del Rio's Song," "Astronomy" (they re-did the song) and "Blue Oyster Cult." This was also the last album to feature Albert and Joe Bouchard.
"Heaven Forbid" was their reunion album, and features many great songs including "See You In Black," "Harvest Moon," "X-Ray Eyes," "Live For Me," and an acoustic rendering of "In Thee."
And their last studio album, released in 2001, "Curse of the Hidden Mirror" features the songs "Pocket" and "Here Comes That Feeling."
And like I said before, any of the live albums are good, and they usually put one out every three or four albums, to connotate a change in style or direction.
So go on, enjoy some good music and listen to the lyrics because there's a lot of good stuff going on in there. If you're more of a pop music person, and you like singles and you listen to music but don't really listen to the words, then you're doing your brain the same disservice you'd be doing your body if you ate ice cream all the time and never ate any vegetables.
And I'll never, ever tell you which category my wife falls into....there's a marriage at stake here. But I've tried to start righting some wrongs and I've played a few CD's in the car when I've taken Harmony to school, and she seems receptive. Good habits begin when we're young.....
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
If someone mentions "Harvester of Eyes," "Astronomy," "E.T.I." or something cool like that, we're going drinking. Unkle Roger, dearly departed disc jockey from WCMF, loved "E.T.I." and that made him a cool motherfucker in my book and I hope they find the person responsible for his death because a cool guy like Unk shouldn't go out like that.
The next ring would be songs like "Godzilla" or "Cities On Flame." These are deep cuts, but still get enough radio airplay that they're considered fairly common. A mention of these will still get you into the brotherhood, and I'll talk as long as you want.
The next layer is "Don't Fear The Reaper" or "Burnin' For You." These are the most common Blue Oyster Cult songs and they don't require any special fan appreciation to pooch out. As a matter of fact, if these are the only song titles the person can produce, I usually write them off at that point as a walking waste, either too young to know any better or too lame to matter. I won't be more inconsiderate to them than I would a stranger on a bus who wants to talk about the weather, but basically, we're in the same neighborhood.
Almost to the bottom of the rings, there's the response "I don't have a favorite song" or "Who is Blue Oyster Cult?" or worse yet, "I don't like them." The truth of this is that Blue Oyster Cult was always a group that required a little imagination to like; they weren't singing about love and relationships, and when they did, it was something dark like a suicide pact or a sado-masochistic sexual affair. To admit that you don't like them or didn't take enough time to get familiar with the material basically is an admission that you're a second class person, more concerned with style over substance, and you're part of the problem (and by that, I mean *all* the problems....teenage pregnancy, overcrowding in our cities, hunger in the third world, gang violence, the poisoning of our food supply by contamination, and the prospect that the Earth will be struck by a huge meteor). I'm sorry, even if you think you're innocent, you're not, and if you're not willing to take the blame, then it's my civic duty to hang that shit around your neck. For Christ's sake, just get one of the live albums and work your way through it. It's not that hard, and you'll be a better person for it.
The bottom ring is reserved for folks whose only exposure to BOC is that sketch that Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken did on Saturday Night Live where they talk about needing more cowbell. If you're a young punk and that's all you've got, I blame it on your parents. They obviously didn't love you very much, or realized that you were "special needs" and couldn't handle anything more. That's a shame, but not everyone gets the nurturing that they deserve.
Will Ferrell is a putz. If you think he's funny, you can't name a Blue Oyster Cult song. You need to draw yourself a bath, plug in a toaster and drop that motherfucker right in the water. You'll be doing us all a favor. Actually, if there's any way you can get Ferrell to take a bath with a toaster, that might earn you some points, but you'll still have to learn a song or two.
Now, you're reading my blog, so I automatically think you're a decent person, but you still have to do the work. If for some reason you never got savvy to Blue Oyster Cult, I'll help you along. You can probably look these songs up on YouTube or download them to your iPod or if you're really interested in being a top-notch human being, you can buy the old albums or CD's and listen to them at home. But here's a good list to start with.
From their debut, "Blue Oyster Cult" listen to "Transmaniacon MC," "Stairway To The Stars," "She's as Beautiful As a Foot," "Cities On Flame with Rock and Roll," or "Workshop of the Telescopes."
From "Tyranny and Mutation," try "O.D'd on Life Itself" or "Hot Rails To Hell."
"Secret Treaties" yields "Career of Evil," "Dominance and Submission," "ME 262," "Harvester of Eyes," and "Astronomy."
"Agents of Fortune" features "This Ain't The Summer of Love," "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," and "E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence)."
From the "Spectres" l.p., check out "Godzilla," "R.U. Ready 2 Rock" (doing the initials thing before Prince ever did!) and "Goin' Through The Motions" (featuring Ian Hunter!)
The "Mirrors" album is excellent, and you'll enjoy "I Am The Storm" and "In Thee."
The phenomenally titled "Cultosaurus Erectus" has the fine tracks "Black Blade," "The Marshall Plan" and "Lips In The Hills."
"Fire of Unknown Origin" is the album you may be the most familiar with, with the hit song "Burnin' For You," but also "Veteran of the Psychic Wars" from the Heavy Metal movie soundtrack album.
"The Revolution By Night" is amazing, and you can enjoy the songs "Take Me Away," "Shooting Shark" (featuring bass guitar work by American Idol's Randy Jackson), "Veins" and "Let Go."
"Club Ninja" has a pair of Bob Halligan songs (he's a famous songwriter for many cool bands such as Judas Priest, Helix and others) "Make Rock Not War" and "Beat 'Em Up" but you may also enjoy "Dancin' In The Ruins" and "White Flags." You might also enjoy "Perfect Water."
"Imaginos" needs to be listened to all the way through, but if you're gonna cherry-pick the songs, how about "I Am The One You Warned Me Of," "In The Presence of Another World," "Del Rio's Song," "Astronomy" (they re-did the song) and "Blue Oyster Cult." This was also the last album to feature Albert and Joe Bouchard.
"Heaven Forbid" was their reunion album, and features many great songs including "See You In Black," "Harvest Moon," "X-Ray Eyes," "Live For Me," and an acoustic rendering of "In Thee."
And their last studio album, released in 2001, "Curse of the Hidden Mirror" features the songs "Pocket" and "Here Comes That Feeling."
And like I said before, any of the live albums are good, and they usually put one out every three or four albums, to connotate a change in style or direction.
So go on, enjoy some good music and listen to the lyrics because there's a lot of good stuff going on in there. If you're more of a pop music person, and you like singles and you listen to music but don't really listen to the words, then you're doing your brain the same disservice you'd be doing your body if you ate ice cream all the time and never ate any vegetables.
And I'll never, ever tell you which category my wife falls into....there's a marriage at stake here. But I've tried to start righting some wrongs and I've played a few CD's in the car when I've taken Harmony to school, and she seems receptive. Good habits begin when we're young.....
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Cat Scratch Fever (Ted Nugent)
Good morning, North America, and anyone else who cares to read. Rather than get a good night's sleep, I decided to toss and turn and keep flipping the pillow to the "cool" side, and finally, I've just said "fuck it" and thought I would blog....it's been a couple of weeks, and I've been piss-poor about keeping in touch.
Stuff on the comedy front's been few and far between, and by design, as I thought I would spend the Summer doing family stuff and spending time with Pammey and Harmony. We've mostly done that, but the weather around here has been decidedly un-summer-like. We've always kept cool by installing two window unit air conditioners on either side of the apartment, but this year, we've only run them once....for the most part, the outdoor temperature has run only into the low 70's, and at night, we're down into the low 50's. I'm not complaining because we're saving a ton of money on our electric bill, but little things are being affected. I usually take advantage of the warm weather to hang clothing on the clothesline out in the backyard, but we really haven't had any days that were hot (or dry) enough to pull that off. Also, you can't really mow your grass when it's wet, and it's been perpetually wet out there. My backyard looks like a jungle! I planted some pepper seeds earlier in the year and I was worried that I wouldn't be around to water them enough, but they've gotten plenty of water, now I'm worried about the sunlight!
If I had things to keep me busy, I guess I wouldn't be so down on the weather, but it's been a lot of "sit around and wait" around here. I did a "Dash For Dollars" gameshow date at D'Youville College in Buffalo last week, and I have another one Wednesday night and a third one this coming Sunday night as part of D'Youville's freshman orientation. The Incredible Cash Cube had a small stress fracture to be taken care of, and as luck would have it, there is a welding shop right around the corner from my house....walking distance, actually. They got the piece back into shape, and then my comedy buddy Ray Salah's father helped me replace some missing fasteners with his 50+ year collection of screws and bolts. The D'Youville folks were awesome and it's a great performance space...I'm looking forward to the next two shows, knowing that it's a good situation.
I did a standup date at a club called Dubland Underground on July 4th weekend. I was concerned that the club wouldn't draw very well, but they actually had a good group down in the basement club. I shared the stage with Rochester comedians Paris, Joe Cumbo, Katie Wood, Billy T. Anglin and Dan Maslyn. I didn't know how long of a show I was going to do, what with it being a very young crowd, but they hung out with me for 45 minutes or more and I had a good time with it. This past weekend, I was supposed to do a comedy train in Vermont with Steve "The Nuclear Guy," but reservations were thin and they pulled the plug on the show. I was sad to see the shows not come off, but after 20 years in this business, I understand that no Summer gig is completely secure.
So with no work for the weekend, I attended two weekend gatherings, on Saturday, a birthday party for our friends Maria and Billy Griffin's son Aidan who was turning 9, and on Sunday, a birthday party for our friend Mike Visconte who was turning 60. Saturday's party was enjoyable, and even though I was upset about the loss of work, I decided not to be a grouch about it, and I kept to myself until folks coaxed me out of my shell. The star attraction of the cookout, in my opinion, was Billy's food, where he put his restaurant experience to good use and rustled up some top-notch grub. His burgers were so thick, you could've chocked the wheels of a 747 with 'em. And they were incredibly juicy; they didn't need one condiment, just a fresh burger bun.
Mike's party was big on the grub, too, with a combination of standard cookout food, birthday cake, and Italian cuisine. The hots were huge, and there were plenty of them, and even though it got a little cool later in the evening, there was a lively discussion courtesy of the party guests, many of whom are teachers, involved in the City School District in some way, or like Pam and myself, have a child that is school-age. One of the guests was a truck driver for Wegman's, and after having seen him at the last few get-togethers at Mike and Fran's, I found out that he worked for my father for years over at Boise Cascade. He told me stories about my father that I'd never heard before, stories that made me laugh and made me incredibly proud of my dad (not that I wasn't already proud of him). I knew he was well-liked at his job, and this gentleman told me that he actually turned down a promotion so that he could keep working for my father. It was great to hear those stories, and sad, too, because I love to hear good things about my father, but I hate being reminded that he's no longer with us.
We're still getting over our recent loss in the family, and yesterday, I had to take one of Dina's cats into the vet for shots and a pedicure so that he and his sister could be handed over to one of Dina's co-workers who volunteered to take the animals on. Chester, the cat in question, is not a friendly guy, and he's scratched and bitten everyone who's come into contact with him. So who's the natural choice of person to take him to the vet? Me. The guy who's on blood thinners and doesn't clot very well.
In the past, when I've gone to the apartment to feed Chester and his sister Fauna, Chester's been friendly to me, and I figured I'd have a decent chance of getting out of the operation unscathed, but I was going to have to be clever. I grabbed an old towel, and started petting Chester, slowly wrapping him up in it and picking him up and moving him towards the ol' cat carrier. The carrier was fairly big, but even *I* don't like seeing it because we've taken at least four cats to be put down in it, and if I were a cat with a hunter's sense of smell, I think I would detect the stench of death. I made sure to get Chester's front paws wrapped up, but the problem appendages were those back feet, powerful pouncing haunches that somehow stopped me from completing the delivery of cat into carrier.
I tried another time, and then finally I realized that I was being too gentle, and for no good reason, and shoved him into the carrier. I got the door fastened, and with nary a scratch. I got Chester into the car, and played some soothing music for him and opened the back window so he could enjoy the fresh air. I actually didn't know which station he would like to hear the most, so I picked 100.5 The Drive because they had New Music Monday; no reason for both of us to be pissed off.
I got Chester over to the veterinarian, and the vet went to work like a ninja; he clipped Chester's nails in less than a minute, and administered a couple of booster shots, and it was all over. I explained that it wasn't my cat, and that I didn't want to get scratched because of my being on blood thinners, and a young lady was called in to do the holding. She grabbed Chester by the scruff of the neck, which to us looks pretty aggressive, but is really no more uncomfortable to a cat than a firm handshake. After everything was done, the young lady opened the door to the cat carrier, led Chester in by his front paws, and he complied like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is bullshit!" I protested. "Please, can't you make it look like it was at least a *little* bit of a struggle?" The vets laughed. They explained that it's all in the intimidation factor, and when it's your cat, you've got no shot at intimidating them because they know you. I've got to get tougher with the family pets if I expect any cooperation, and we've only got one cat now, Little Monet (I'm not sure that the "Little" part is actually her name, but that's what we call her all the time, so it's stuck), and she's pretty skittish to begin with. Although in the morning she gets pretty friendly and she even lets Harmony pick her up and carry her around, so maybe she's not that skittish after all.
This week, we're hosting our own shindig at the Millennium Lodge, and on a Saturday rather than our regular Sunday date. We've tried to get all of our invites out by e-mail, but as always, some folks fall through the cracks, so if you didn't get an invite, it's not because we don't want you to come, we just don't have a comprehensive, all-inclusive list! If you're interested in coming, here's the info, courtesy of Pamela:
Please join us for an afternoon of fun at the Greece Canal Park's Millennium Lodge,
on Saturday, July 18th, 2009!
http://www.monroecounty.gov/parks-greececanal.php
Food hits the grill at noon. We supply the hots and hamburgers, soda and waters. We'd love it if you'd like to bring a dish, chips, or dessert to share, if you can.
There's a playground there, as well as three tennis courts, and a soccer/baseball field! Come prepared to have fun! Bring any games/balls/equipment that you'd like as well!
We'll be there all day, from Noon until 9PM!
Drop-in any time - stay for as long as you'd like!
Please RSVP (Pam's email: CoolGrrl28@aol.com or Ralph's email: YuksOnMe@aol.com or our home phone: 585-254-6256) by July 15th so we buy enough supplies!
We look forward to having some fun in the sun with YOU!
Next week: Ralph has jury duty, a gig in West Virginia (can't do 'em both at the same time, let's see how this shakes out), Mom comes visiting from Florida, and MUCH MUCH MORE! Stay tuned everybody! Also, in August, I'll be teaching another round of comedy classes (because the last ones were so popular) and you can find the info at http://www.thecomedyclub.us/Comedy_Classes.html. If you want to be funny, or know someone who you think would be interested, pass it along. I made the classes cheap for the summer, and we've got some returning folks from our June session, so it should be a lot of fun.
Thanks for reading!
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
Stuff on the comedy front's been few and far between, and by design, as I thought I would spend the Summer doing family stuff and spending time with Pammey and Harmony. We've mostly done that, but the weather around here has been decidedly un-summer-like. We've always kept cool by installing two window unit air conditioners on either side of the apartment, but this year, we've only run them once....for the most part, the outdoor temperature has run only into the low 70's, and at night, we're down into the low 50's. I'm not complaining because we're saving a ton of money on our electric bill, but little things are being affected. I usually take advantage of the warm weather to hang clothing on the clothesline out in the backyard, but we really haven't had any days that were hot (or dry) enough to pull that off. Also, you can't really mow your grass when it's wet, and it's been perpetually wet out there. My backyard looks like a jungle! I planted some pepper seeds earlier in the year and I was worried that I wouldn't be around to water them enough, but they've gotten plenty of water, now I'm worried about the sunlight!
If I had things to keep me busy, I guess I wouldn't be so down on the weather, but it's been a lot of "sit around and wait" around here. I did a "Dash For Dollars" gameshow date at D'Youville College in Buffalo last week, and I have another one Wednesday night and a third one this coming Sunday night as part of D'Youville's freshman orientation. The Incredible Cash Cube had a small stress fracture to be taken care of, and as luck would have it, there is a welding shop right around the corner from my house....walking distance, actually. They got the piece back into shape, and then my comedy buddy Ray Salah's father helped me replace some missing fasteners with his 50+ year collection of screws and bolts. The D'Youville folks were awesome and it's a great performance space...I'm looking forward to the next two shows, knowing that it's a good situation.
I did a standup date at a club called Dubland Underground on July 4th weekend. I was concerned that the club wouldn't draw very well, but they actually had a good group down in the basement club. I shared the stage with Rochester comedians Paris, Joe Cumbo, Katie Wood, Billy T. Anglin and Dan Maslyn. I didn't know how long of a show I was going to do, what with it being a very young crowd, but they hung out with me for 45 minutes or more and I had a good time with it. This past weekend, I was supposed to do a comedy train in Vermont with Steve "The Nuclear Guy," but reservations were thin and they pulled the plug on the show. I was sad to see the shows not come off, but after 20 years in this business, I understand that no Summer gig is completely secure.
So with no work for the weekend, I attended two weekend gatherings, on Saturday, a birthday party for our friends Maria and Billy Griffin's son Aidan who was turning 9, and on Sunday, a birthday party for our friend Mike Visconte who was turning 60. Saturday's party was enjoyable, and even though I was upset about the loss of work, I decided not to be a grouch about it, and I kept to myself until folks coaxed me out of my shell. The star attraction of the cookout, in my opinion, was Billy's food, where he put his restaurant experience to good use and rustled up some top-notch grub. His burgers were so thick, you could've chocked the wheels of a 747 with 'em. And they were incredibly juicy; they didn't need one condiment, just a fresh burger bun.
Mike's party was big on the grub, too, with a combination of standard cookout food, birthday cake, and Italian cuisine. The hots were huge, and there were plenty of them, and even though it got a little cool later in the evening, there was a lively discussion courtesy of the party guests, many of whom are teachers, involved in the City School District in some way, or like Pam and myself, have a child that is school-age. One of the guests was a truck driver for Wegman's, and after having seen him at the last few get-togethers at Mike and Fran's, I found out that he worked for my father for years over at Boise Cascade. He told me stories about my father that I'd never heard before, stories that made me laugh and made me incredibly proud of my dad (not that I wasn't already proud of him). I knew he was well-liked at his job, and this gentleman told me that he actually turned down a promotion so that he could keep working for my father. It was great to hear those stories, and sad, too, because I love to hear good things about my father, but I hate being reminded that he's no longer with us.
We're still getting over our recent loss in the family, and yesterday, I had to take one of Dina's cats into the vet for shots and a pedicure so that he and his sister could be handed over to one of Dina's co-workers who volunteered to take the animals on. Chester, the cat in question, is not a friendly guy, and he's scratched and bitten everyone who's come into contact with him. So who's the natural choice of person to take him to the vet? Me. The guy who's on blood thinners and doesn't clot very well.
In the past, when I've gone to the apartment to feed Chester and his sister Fauna, Chester's been friendly to me, and I figured I'd have a decent chance of getting out of the operation unscathed, but I was going to have to be clever. I grabbed an old towel, and started petting Chester, slowly wrapping him up in it and picking him up and moving him towards the ol' cat carrier. The carrier was fairly big, but even *I* don't like seeing it because we've taken at least four cats to be put down in it, and if I were a cat with a hunter's sense of smell, I think I would detect the stench of death. I made sure to get Chester's front paws wrapped up, but the problem appendages were those back feet, powerful pouncing haunches that somehow stopped me from completing the delivery of cat into carrier.
I tried another time, and then finally I realized that I was being too gentle, and for no good reason, and shoved him into the carrier. I got the door fastened, and with nary a scratch. I got Chester into the car, and played some soothing music for him and opened the back window so he could enjoy the fresh air. I actually didn't know which station he would like to hear the most, so I picked 100.5 The Drive because they had New Music Monday; no reason for both of us to be pissed off.
I got Chester over to the veterinarian, and the vet went to work like a ninja; he clipped Chester's nails in less than a minute, and administered a couple of booster shots, and it was all over. I explained that it wasn't my cat, and that I didn't want to get scratched because of my being on blood thinners, and a young lady was called in to do the holding. She grabbed Chester by the scruff of the neck, which to us looks pretty aggressive, but is really no more uncomfortable to a cat than a firm handshake. After everything was done, the young lady opened the door to the cat carrier, led Chester in by his front paws, and he complied like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is bullshit!" I protested. "Please, can't you make it look like it was at least a *little* bit of a struggle?" The vets laughed. They explained that it's all in the intimidation factor, and when it's your cat, you've got no shot at intimidating them because they know you. I've got to get tougher with the family pets if I expect any cooperation, and we've only got one cat now, Little Monet (I'm not sure that the "Little" part is actually her name, but that's what we call her all the time, so it's stuck), and she's pretty skittish to begin with. Although in the morning she gets pretty friendly and she even lets Harmony pick her up and carry her around, so maybe she's not that skittish after all.
This week, we're hosting our own shindig at the Millennium Lodge, and on a Saturday rather than our regular Sunday date. We've tried to get all of our invites out by e-mail, but as always, some folks fall through the cracks, so if you didn't get an invite, it's not because we don't want you to come, we just don't have a comprehensive, all-inclusive list! If you're interested in coming, here's the info, courtesy of Pamela:
Please join us for an afternoon of fun at the Greece Canal Park's Millennium Lodge,
on Saturday, July 18th, 2009!
http://www.monroecounty.gov/parks-greececanal.php
Food hits the grill at noon. We supply the hots and hamburgers, soda and waters. We'd love it if you'd like to bring a dish, chips, or dessert to share, if you can.
There's a playground there, as well as three tennis courts, and a soccer/baseball field! Come prepared to have fun! Bring any games/balls/equipment that you'd like as well!
We'll be there all day, from Noon until 9PM!
Drop-in any time - stay for as long as you'd like!
Please RSVP (Pam's email: CoolGrrl28@aol.com or Ralph's email: YuksOnMe@aol.com or our home phone: 585-254-6256) by July 15th so we buy enough supplies!
We look forward to having some fun in the sun with YOU!
Next week: Ralph has jury duty, a gig in West Virginia (can't do 'em both at the same time, let's see how this shakes out), Mom comes visiting from Florida, and MUCH MUCH MORE! Stay tuned everybody! Also, in August, I'll be teaching another round of comedy classes (because the last ones were so popular) and you can find the info at http://www.thecomedyclub.us/Comedy_Classes.html. If you want to be funny, or know someone who you think would be interested, pass it along. I made the classes cheap for the summer, and we've got some returning folks from our June session, so it should be a lot of fun.
Thanks for reading!
Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY
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