As Mike Peters (early in the movie Swingers) boasts voicemail more pregnant than mine, certainly my legion of fans have awaited the return of my blog posts with more baited breath than the season premiere of Entourage. Nevertheless, with apologies to Mark Twain, the reports of my literary death have been greatly exaggerated. I did not get kicked out of college and earn a spot on the FBI’s subversive list for publishing a newspaper . . . for nothing.
Silly me, I’ve spent my life attempting to sell when I should have been writing, publishing and performing. Greater joy has no man than this, to lay down his new comedy material for a surly and distracted audience. I’m getting a better handle on the tension between my writing and my desire to improvise in the moment on stage. Towards that end, I am delighted to be writing with more matter AND art, endeavoring to better capture and share the fardels and such small wares that stalk my mind. Towards that end, this blog hopes to aid and abet the mischief.