Time Pie

The thing about time is that it is a freaky weird kind of thing.  I mean, is it a real thing or not?  Historians remind us that normal people only had clocks as part of their lives when they started getting paid by the hour.  Before that, a calendar did very nicely for dividing up time into understandable bites.  People didn’t have appointments before the Industrial Revolution.  If you wanted your friend to come over for sex, you just said “why don’t you come over sometime?”  Then your friend would come over and the two of you would have sexual intercourse together.

Now, of course, we divide up time every which way.  How many clicks did I get on this post in the first twenty minutes?  Why didn’t my friend like my Facebook post until it had been up for 9 minutes already?  Why do I only get four minutes at Cole’s Open Mic?  Did they really give me the light at three minutes or was it two minutes and fifty seconds?  Why can’t I get my ten seconds back?  Why won’t anybody fellate me?

Only one of these questions has an easy answer.

It’s about time.

One time it was 1990, and Your old Pal Foz had a hangover.  I was living in Lawrence, Kansas at the time because of the higher education and the reasonably high quality ditch weed.   Also, Lawrence had a bit of “scene” when it came to music, with great local bands like The Homestead Grays, Kill Whitey, and Bobby and the Chuxx.  Good bands always hit Lawrence on national tours.  Pearl Jam played at the graduation party that year. 

So I had this hangover and I was doing what I did back then in the mornings, which was run on the levee next to the Kansas River, over on the north side of the river by Johnny’s.  I had a hangover because I was out late getting drunk the night before watching a great band from Minneapolis called Trip Shakespeare.  They were playing at the Bottleneck.  That was the bar where sometimes Billy Goat would play.  They were the band where the lead singer would defecate on stage.  Remember?

So I was running along the levee there, and I see a group of five people walking up the levee from Johnny’s parking lot, and it didn’t take but a second to recognize that they were Trip Shakespeare.  I had just seen them the night before, and even had this hangover to prove it.  I ran up to them – which they did not find scary because I was dressed for running – and said something like “Hello.  You are Trip Shakespeare."  They recognized their name and answered to it.  I said something like “Hey.  I like Lake.  It is the only song I know of about infidelity as seen from the point of view of a fish.”  They said something like “yes, it is.” 

They had a camera guy with them who was shooting footage for a promotional video.  The camera was very big because it was 1990, and the camera operator was a professional camera guy who they had to pay to take the pictures – again, because this was 1990. 

Anyway, he shot a bunch of footage of the band hanging out on the levee and rolling down the hill and so forth.

The other day an old friend pointed me to where the You Tubes had a video of Trip Shakespeare, and there it was – all the footage I watched them take.  I am not in the video when you watch it.  I am standing right by the camera watching what we are looking at live but 22 years ago – and hung over. 

We had a good time chatting, took our goodbyes, and then I ran away.

Did you notice the part where Elaine the Drummer says in a wispy and spiritual hippy-dippy way that her role in the band is to divide time and stuff.  Crazy, spacey thoughts.  That’s kind of the way Patrick Stonehouse, the drummer for FtH does it. Patrick divides up time in to any old origami swan, and leaves you laughing or crying at the way he whacks on the drums.  That’s what drummers are for.  That’s why we have them.  We don’t always have sexual intercourse with them.  They don’t fellate us (they don’t have to), but they do take some time, divide it up into bite sized pieces, and use it to make us move our asses around.  That’s a good thing about drummers.  There are other good things but I can’t think of them now.

If you want to hear a man make a time-pie that will move your butt around be at Cole’s tonight at 9:00 to hear FtH lead off an amazing night of comedy at Cole’s Comedy Open Mic.

Good comics understand time too.  Someday we’ll talk about that.

September 11, 2001

A Year of Bitterness!

You know how much Your Old Pal Foz likes to write about all of our friends who tell jokes at Cole’s.  That I typically write about the lady comics, and more frequently write about lady comics who are Ladies’ Lady comics "reveals much," as they say at the psychiatric conference.  Obviously, I have a sick fascination with women who tell hilarious jokes. 

But I also have a sick fascination with certain chaps who tell jokes, and one of those is a tiny and bitter little gnome (sorry, but that’s the most flattering phrase I could think of) named Peter-john Byrnes.  Pete recently invited me to play on his fabulously depressing podcast, This Week in Despair. It was fun.  I am told that since listening to the conversation we had with James Fritz that day the Mayans have cheered up a good deal.  We might make it to 2013 after all!

Anyway, today is a day of some importance to the world of People Who Prefer Laughing to Rectal Prolapse.  For the past fifty-one weeks Pete has been writing and performing a totally new four-minute set for Cole’s each week.  He has never repeated a joke.  That’s pretty impressive.  If you don’t think that’s pretty impressive, try a little rectal prolapse. 

Here is where you can see much of Pete's great work.

So, if you like funny women or bitter gnomes join us tonight at 9:00 for FtH followed by Cole’s Inter-Gender Comedy Open Mic at Cole’s. 

Congratulations, Pete!  The best part is that almost all of these one-off jokes were funny.  Can you start repeating some now?

I didn’t want to find a picture to illustrate Rectal Prolapse, so here is an Angler Fish, which, I understand, is a pretty good illustration of the concept of rectal prolapse.  It's also not a bad approximation of the feel of a typical Pete Byrnes set at Cole's.

PS:  If you ever forget the term rectal prolapse and need to write it in a blog or something, try Googling the phrase “anus turned inside out.”  It works OK.

Bitter Tears and Blackout Diaries!

Well, that was fun, but it was also sad.  Good ole Rhea Butcher did her swansong at Cole’s last night and everybody had a swell time. 

Rhea later told Foz that she’d never had a theme song before – FtH always played her up with a bad-and-wrong rendition of Henry Mancini's Peter Gunn Theme – and I must confess to tearing-up a bit at the knowledge that I had the privilege of playing such a solemn and pleasurable role in a young lady blooming from the innocent blush of girlhood to full womanhood.   What comedian doesn’t remember the thrill of her first theme song?  Years hence will she turn silently from her adoring fans – for just a moment – and let her mind race back to that thrilling first experience under the gentle hands of an older Olde Foz (and Patrick and Larry)?  Will a fragile tear course down her sweet face even as her shiny new L.A. backup band pauses and reverently permits her mind to take her back to that first-and-forever experience when the windows blew open, the drapes snapped in the breeze and the maniacal railings of faux-brass and kazoos wafted in on the warm Chicago evening air?  We can only hope so.

But time waits for no one, little Fozlings.  This Saturday evening, your new favorite country music singer, Colonel Foz, will return to Blackout Diaries with Sean Flannery.  This is episode 17 of the amazing monthly recitation of the crimes and humiliations that result from our love-love relationship with our first love, sweet sweet booze.  Who will be on the bill besides Good Old Sean and Your Pard, Colonel Foz?  Only the incredible Mikey Manker; the unbelievable Candy Lawrence; the irreproachable Anne Root; the unattainable Puterbaughz; and the incomparable Matteo Lane!  Tickets cost $10.  Get them from This Guy.  Buy early!  Stay late!  $2 Blatz!  Don’t make me explain why that’s a great deal.  Just get to The Beat Kitchen on Saturday night at about 9, and begin this month’s adventures in blackout!

See you there!  Well, not actually, we’ll all be pretty blind drunk.  $2 Blatz!

Separation Anxiety Part Two

The new school year is coming, and before long thousands of young parents, and much younger kindergartners, will face that painful moment when Mom goes away (Mom in this case for the purpose of argument; I know a few womanly gents who drop their kids off at school too), and she doesn’t come back anytime soon.  Baby is left at the mercy of twenty or so equally terrified peers and a horrified Montessori grad on her first day of work.  This is a big day.  This is the day all of the children begin the long, twelve-year, process of culling the herd, and measuring the weak for their therapist’s couch.  It’s the first day of school, and separation anxiety is in the air.

So it goes for Your Pals in FtH.  Less than a year after we gave up our darling Cameron Esposito to the glittering golden apple that is Los Angeles, our new favorite ladyhost of Kole’s Kickass Komedy open mic (I hope that abbreviation takes hold) is also leaving, and also leaving for LA, and even leaving for an area that is in pretty close proximity to Cameron.  Maybe they’ll see each other?

Tonight we will cry bittersweet tears as Rhea Butcher, The Butcher of Akron, gives her swansong as host of the Cole’s open mic.  If you haven’t been to the mic lately, tonight will be a good show.  Come out and send Rhea off with a big, fat, kiss, or a cool and appropriate hand shake – If you don’t know which of those is right for you I don’t think I can help you.

Good bye, Rhea!  We will miss you and follow your good deeds with cheers!

The Heroes of Summer

Soon the summer Olympics will be drawing to a close.  It is time for us to recognize some of the great and talented people who have made these games an affair to remember.

Remember all those gold medals in swimming?

Remember when Robocop won the right to sprint with all the human athletes?

Remember when that one kid wouldn't fix her pony tail, and in spite of all the gentle - and totally appropriate - reminders to fix her pony tail she didn't fix her pony tail?  I think she had her gold medal taken away, didn't she?  I don't know for sure.  I've been pretty drunk these past two weeks, but when I hear tell of an innocent little kid who won't fix her pony tail and they take away her gold medal and send her to RUSSIA I get pretty mad.  And when I get pretty mad I drink even more.

Do you remember when Foz the Hook hosted Foz the Hook's Summer Games at Cole's last Wednesday night?  Do you remember that?  It was awesome, and even more American heroes were born.

Jason Earl Folks won the Gold Medal in the Haggis Toss.  Rachel Ortiz led the American squad onto the field astride a dressage unicorn while bagpiping The Haggis March by Robert Burns.  Krystal LaFianza-Pitzen achieved the world record for the fastest rendition of Cole Porter's It's Too Darn Hot played by a band that is playing twice as slow as they are supposed to.  Maria Wojciechowski sang Gershwin's Summertime so beautifully that she received a marriage proposal from North Korean strongman Kim Jong Un (and he's a newlywed himself)!  Do you remember when the Kates-Caits sang Chris Isaak's Wicked Games so beautifully that we all had to stop and have a good cry?

Do you remember Meredith Kachel's magnificent poster that she made just for the event?  Probably not.  Due to technical problems in transmission this is the first time I am showing it to you.

It is so beautiful, I had to sit down and have a good old cry.

Thank you, Meredith!  Even though the poster wasn't part of the actual show we are all thrilled and proud to have it.  All of the cast members will get their own copy (even Kate from the Caits, who didn't quite fit in.)

If there is anybody who wants amazing drawings made by a funny lady who is Old Foz's good pal, contact Meredith Kachel.

We shall work together again sooner than you think.

Summer Games are Here!

Good morning, Americans!

It has been six (7) long months, but Your Pals, Foz the Hook are ready to bring you the third installment of our Quarterly Pageants at Cole’s.  So far, you have made huge successes of Foz the Hook’s War on Christmas, and Foz the Hook’s Poison Valentines Pageant. 

Tonight, Your Pals bring you Foz the Hook’s Summer Games! – a pageant of moving comedy songs of Olympic proportions.  We have songs!  We have guest performers!  We have FtH! 

What else do you want?  Bagpipes, did you say?  Alright then, Bagpipes it is!

Did you say “Oh Foz, I love FtH, but I have always wished you would play more Gershwin polkas with Accordion.”  Heard and done!

 Did someone else say “I never go to FtH shows unless I can be assured there will be frozen haggis tossing.  It’s just my thing.”  A reasonable request: It shall be done!

I heard another little voice whisper “FtH is ok, but there are not nearly enough people named ‘Kate’ or even ‘Cait’.  Can you get more of those?”  You want a Kate and Cait?  Done and done!

Yes, Citizens!  Tonight at 8:45 at Cole’s Before the Cole's Comedy Holy S*&T Open Mic, FtH presents Foz the Hook’s Summer Games!

Starring, Your Pals, FtH!

Featuring:

Maria Wojciechowski, the polka Queen of Kukamunga! 

The K/Cai/tes, two singing females who are called Kate or Cait! 

Jason Earl Folks, whose simmering anger at nothing in particular is set to boil over in an inappropriate maelstrom of hilarity! 

Krystal LaFianza-Pitzen, who is too darn hot to describe here! 

Rachel Ortiz!  A Classy Lady with a brand new name!

So come out to Cole’s, 2338 N. Milwaukee in Chicago tonight at 8:45. 

Foz the Hook’s Summer Games will be greatest Foz the Hook Pageant until Halloween!