Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.

To my great delight, people enjoyed the taco tweets so I decided to continue the daily tweet series.

I felt the obvious follow up to tacos was monkeys. I stand by that decision for many reasons. Like most humans, my two favorite non-swear words are monkey and pants. Monkeys are a great source of comedy. They are so very close to humans and yet so very different. I’m sure monkeys would like tacos, but they have yet to extend that love to tweeting about tacos. But one can hope.

Below is every monkey tweet from April 2013. If you enjoy, you can find me on Twitter here.

Day One: Monkeys with typewriters will eventually write Shakespeare. Monkeys with iPhones will eventually Instagram their junk.

Day Two: Idea for a movie: Rise of the Pedantic Monkeys Who Are Pissed Off Because Technically They Are Not Monkeys, They Are Apes.

Day Three: “Are you throwing poo or is poo throwing you? A TED Talk by a Monkey.” This CHANGED my life.

Day Four: Things that look better on a monkey than a human: fez, diaper, red jackets, monocle, top hat, google glasses, bling.

Day Five: One of the big differences between humans and monkeys is that monkeys don’t use the phrase “it is what it is” so often.

Day Six: From a monkey perspective, King Kong is a romantic comedy with a really bleak ending.

Day Seven: I want to believe that somewhere, right now, a monkey is narrating the actions of David Attenborough.

Day Eight: When I’m rich and crazy I will have a monkey butler. That is, a human butler whose only job is to bring me monkeys.

Day Nine: Monkeys have many euphemisms for throwing poo: flinging the waste, forgetting the past, sending the tweet, etc.

Day Ten: Here’s my suggestion for the next Bourne movie: it should be called The Bourne Monkey. That’s all I’ve got so far.

Day Eleven: This one time I did a commercial with the monkey from Friends. Seriously.

Day Twelve: Monkey with a banjo: funny. Monkey with a ukulele: hip. Monkey with a sitar: pothead.

Day Thirteen: There should be monkey bars for adults where an actual monkey would make me a martini.

Day Fourteen: Monkey see, monkey do unless a monkey sees someone planking and then the monkey just shakes his head and sighs.

Day Fifteen: If I commanded an army of Flying Monkeys, I would mostly have them steal people’s smartphones and fav this tweet.

Day Sixteen: Today my faith in humanity was restored when I read that two of the most used passwords are “iloveyou” and “monkey.”

Day Seventeen: Things that are so easy a monkey could do them: riding a pig, visiting Ikea, outsmarting Charlton Heston, hugging.

Day Eighteen: Emo monkeys just want to sit in the trees, listen to The Cure, and dream of picking things out of Robert Smith’s hair.

Day Nineteen: A philosophical question: If monkeys had their own social media site would they post pictures of cute humans?

Day Twenty: Things that monkeys don’t have to deal with: pants, their personal brand, reading Breaking Bad spoilers, bad hair days.

Day Twenty-One: True story: Told a friend that a warehouse task was so easy a monkey could do it. He broke the machine and looked sad.

Day Twenty-Two: Right now, Andy Serkis is probably in a motion capture suit pretending to be a monkey. Possibly for a movie role.

Day Twenty-Three: Villains that would be better if they had little monkey sidekicks: Darth Vader, Dracula, Hans Gruber, tax auditors.

Day Twenty-Four: I own socks with pictures of googly eyed monkeys. The socks read “DRUNKIE MONKEY.” This isn’t a joke, it’s just true.

Day Twenty-Five: I want to see a horror film called Monkeys on a Segway.

Day Twenty-Six: One cool thing about monkeys is that they don’t eat bananas ironically. They really fucking love bananas.

Day Twenty-Seven: When a small monkey starts screaming it means they’re angry, tired, or they just read a tweet that spoiled Breaking Bad.

Day Twenty-Eight: Monkey saying: When life hands you lemons, rub them on your body, sniff them, scream, then throw them at another monkey.

Day Twenty-Nine: Of all the monkeys in the world, one of my very favorites is stoic space monkey.

Day Thirty: Monkeys with typewriters will eventually type Shakespeare. Monkeys with iPhones wilt evening tip shaken pearl.

Monkeys! Thanks! In May 2013, I’ll be tweeting daily with super uplifting affirmations!

Joseph Scrimshaw
Writer/Comedian/Monkey Fan

If you enjoy my work, you can sign up for my fan list here and make more comedy possible by buying a book, a comedy album, or a script here.

Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.

Recently, I did a show with my friends and uber-talented musicians The Doubleclicks. We were looking for ways to collaborate. I love writing genre parody pieces for pals to perform such as this one with Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy. I asked the ladies if they had any ideas. Angela said she had always wanted to play Hermione Granger of Harry Potter fame. I had always wanted to hear Hermione use more offensive swear words. I realized that Hermione had it in her to be as righteously pissed off as the Angry Sorority Girl. Enjoy the text and a link to Angela’s performance below, you stupid ass-sorting hats.

If you just opened this like I told you to, sit down in a chair and cast Petrificus Totalus on yourself, because this howler is going to be a rough fucking ride.

For those of you that have your heads stuck up your robes, which apparently is the majority of Gryffindor, we have been FUCKING UP in terms of nighttime events and general social interactions with Hufflepuff.

If you’re reading this right now and saying to yourself “But oh em gee Hermione, I’ve been having so much fun with Neville Longbottom this week!” then hex yourself in the face right now so that I don’t have to fucking find you in the common room and do it myself.

I do not give a flying fuck, and Hufflepuff does not give a flying fuck, about how much you fucking love to talk to Neville.

Flying Fuck, by the way, is a really fun spell that I invented.

Anyway, you have 361 days out of the fucking year to talk to Neville Longbottom, and this week is NOT, I fucking repeat NOT ONE OF THEM.

Yes, I know I said 361 days out of the year. I know that a week is seven days long. I know the math doesn’t work out. I have a time turner, bitches!

This week is about fostering relationships with those boring losers from Hufflepuff, and that’s not fucking possible if you’re going to stand around and talk to Neville about gillyweed.

Newsflash you stupid cocks: HUFFLEPUFFS DON’T LIKE IT WHEN SOMEONE IS MORE BORING THAN THEM. HUFFLEPUFF IS NOT GOING TO WANT TO HANG OUT WITH US IF WE FUCKING SUCK.

This also applies to you little shits that have talked openly about Quidditch being boring. Are you people brain dead like Neville’s parents after they were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse by Bellatrix Lestrange?

Of FUCKING course, Quidditch is boring. We get all dressed up and go out to the stands and then some FUCKING CHOSEN ONE PRAT catches the golden snitch in the first thirty seconds and it’s all FUCKING over!

But Hermione, you say in a whiny little bitch voice, “I’ve been cheering on Gryffindor, doesn’t that count for something?”

NO YOU STUPID FUCKING ASS SORTING HATS, IT FUCKING DOESN’T.

I’ve not only gotten messages about people being fucking WEIRD at Quidditch (for example, being stupid shits and saying stuff like “durr what’s the TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT?” is not fucking funny), but I’ve gotten messages about people actually cheering for the opposing team.

The opposing. Fucking. Team.

I don’t give a SHIT about sportsmanship, YOU CHEER FOR GRYFFINDOR NO MATTER WHAT STUPID SHIT HAPPENS TO HARRY POTTER!

AND YOU ABSOLUTELY DO NOT INTERVENE!

NOT EVEN TEACHERS INTERVENE WHEN CLEARLY DANGEROUS SHIT IS HAPPENING, YOU STUPID FUCKING FUCKS!

I swear I will fucking cast cuntius puntius on the next person I hear about doing something like that.

“Ohhh, I’m now crying because your howler has made me oh so so sad! I’m pulling my tears out and putting them in a pensieve so I never fucking forget. “

Well, good.

If this howler applies to you in any way, meaning if you are a Longbottom loving little asswipe that stands in the corners at night looking at Filch’s fucking cat or if you’re a weird shit that does weird shit during the day, this following message is for you: APPARATE YOUR ASS AWAY FROM TONIGHT’S EVENT.

I’m not fucking kidding. Seriously, if you have done ANYTHING I’ve mentioned in this email and you’re suffering from some rare curse like Smartus Oppositus where you’re unable to NOT do these things, then you are HORRIBLE, I repeat, HORRIBLE FOR GRYFFINDOR!

YOU’RE LOSING US LIKE FIFTY FUCKING POINTS A DAY. AND WE WILL NOT WIN THE HOUSE CUP THAT WAY, YOU MAGICALLY STUPID FUCKS.

I would rather have six or seven Gryffindors who are actually relevant to the fucking NARRATIVE, than a bunch of lame Dean Thomases and Seamus Finnegans being awkward.

Seriously. I swear to fucking Godric Gryffindor if I see anyone being a goddamn boner at tonight’s event, I will cast a spell that turns you into an actual walking talking boner. I’m not even kidding. Try me.

And for those of you who are offended at this howler, I understand. Now that I’m getting to the end, I see I’m really just projecting my own feelings on to you. I’m upset with Ron Weasley. And I’m taking it out on you. It’s very hard being the most intelligent person in the room. All the time. I always know the right answer and most of you are really dumb.

Like really fucking dumb.

Like every year, there’s a big mystery going on at the school. Like with monsters and evil wizards and shit and you don’t even FUCKING notice. Wake up, SHEEPLE!

In conclusion, I apologize and take back the majority of what I said.

And if you don’t like that you can go fuck yourself.

*letter explodes*

Angela’s enchanting performance at Nerd Night Out in Portland, Oregon.

If you enjoy my work, you can sign up for my fan list here and make more comedy possible by buying a book, a comedy album, or a script here.

 

Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.

Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.

“I just ate a taco!”

And then I would wonder why I was on Twitter. I wondered why I needed to know that someone just ate a taco.

Then I realized I didn’t need to know.

I wanted to know.

I enjoy sharing the daily march through life with a strange and diverse collection of humans. It’s nice to remember we all have victories, failures, and can’t eat a taco without tweeting about it.

On Jonathan Coulton’s JoCoCruiseCrazy, Bill Corbett hosted a panel on writing that eventually ended up as an episode of the great podcast Nerdist Writer’s Panel. During the panel, John Roderick mentioned he was publishing a book of tweets. We got into a discussion about the difference between the world seeing an artist’s creation unfold via social media versus presenting a complete finished product. I asked John if he considered his book of tweets a work in progress. He said, “Well, I’m not including a bunch of taco tweets.”

I was inspired to defend the artistic virtue of taco tweets. So for the month of March 2013, I tweeted about tacos once a day. Here, in all their victories and failures, are my taco tweets. Enjoy.

Day One: Today, for lunch, I did not have a taco.

Day Two: Here’s my breakfast taco recipe: Bacon, a crumpet, and a mimosa in a champagne flute, wrapped in a soft shell. No Doritos.

Day Three: Things that are bullshit: Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t serve tacos. What bullshit.

Day Four: When a man is tired of taco tweets, he is tired of the internet.

Day Five: FREE IDEA FOR CHEAP HOTELS: Replace your paintings of ducks with paintings of tacos. Automatic increase in business.

Day Six: Revenge is a dish best served without tacos. People like tacos.

Day Seven: How does one even define a taco? The tightness of the wrapping? Is a burrito just an uptight taco?

Day Eight: Things that don’t go well with eating tacos: Parkour.

Day Nine: Cookies are great, but if Girl Scouts really wanted to make money they would sell tacos.

Day Ten: Taco Fact: In the time it takes you to read this tweet a million tacos will be consumed at #SXSW.

Day Eleven: Taco fact: No one knows how or why, but Instagram photos of tacos outnumber actual tacos by 2 to 1.

Day Twelve: You are what you eat. Most Americans are 67% taco.

Day Thirteen: Taco fact: There is an actual taco bell. It rang only once in 1547 to declare an armistice in the war of hard versus soft.

Day Fourteen: No one has endorsed me on LinkedIn for tweeting about tacos.

Day Fifteen: Friday is casual taco day. If you work an office job you can eat tacos like you would at home: pantsless and crying.

Day Sixteen: Are there green tacos today? Don’t eat green tacos. It’s an insult to tacos, the color green, Ireland, and eating.

Day Seventeen: Old Irish Proverb: “Give me a taco, I’m Irish.”

Day Eighteen: Tacos are like metaphors. People put a bunch of weird stuff in them that doesn’t make sense to other people.

Day Nineteen: Taco Tip: No matter how much you love tacos, do not name your taco. If you eat a taco you’ve named Steve, you’re a monster.

Day Twenty: How would Batman eat a taco? SUDDENLY FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS.

Day Twenty One: New idea for a charity event: Tacos Across America. A chain of people holding hands while other people feed them tacos.

Day Twenty Two: H.P. Lovecraft describes a taco: A hideous shelled monstrosity oozing with meat and the festering death of hunger itself.

Day Twenty Three: How to make a good action movie trailer: The hero calmly walks away from a giant explosion WHILE EATING A TACO.

Day Twenty Three BONUS TACO TWEET: Also, I’m 100% aware that I just wrote a tweet with the words “taco” and “explosion” without making a fart joke. I stand by this decision.

Day Twenty Four: Here is my recipe for a hangover taco: Meat, cheese, aspirin, lettuce, electrolytes, guilt, salsa.

Day Twenty Five: If someone is depressed a nice, reassuring, not too gross thing to say is “There’s a taco at the end of the tunnel.”

Day Twenty Six: A wise, old proverb: A prison made of tacos is not a prison at all.

Day Twenty Seven: In space, no one can hear you eat a taco.

Day Twenty Eight: In Mary Shelley’s original book, Frankenstein’s monster doesn’t say “FIRE BAD!” He says “FIRE BAD! TACOS GOOD!”

Day Twenty Nine: A confession: Sometimes I describe hard shell tacos as Daniel Craig’s abs tacos. It’s a pretty disturbing thing to do.

Day Thirty: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a taco.

Day Thirty One, The End: A 21st century philosophical question: If someone eats a taco, but doesn’t tweet about it, did they even eat a taco?

Thank you for reading about my adventures in taco tweets. I sincerely hope you’re eating a taco as you read this. For the month of April, I’ll be tweeting about monkeys once a day. Join me.

Yours in tacos,
Joseph
Comedian/Writer/Taco Eater

If you enjoy my work, you can sign up for my fan list here and make more comedy possible by buying a book, a comedy album, or a script here.

Well, the answer can finally be revealed! Last December, I did an interview with Santa Claus for my podcast Obsessed and it was great fun so I decided to interview the Easter Bunny.

Not to shatter the fourth wall too violently, but I set up an interview with the Easter Bunny as played by Jill Bernard. She’s an improviser, a co-founder of HUGE Theater in Minneapolis, and one of the funniest humans I’ve ever met.

Unfortunately, we had some technical issues with the podcast recording so it’s mostly loud electronic buzzing, awkward silences, and a bunny talking. In short, it is an audio podcast only David Lynch could truly love.

But all is not lost! I’ve transcribed the interview so the truth about the Easter Bunny and her obsession with Sherlock can be revealed. Enjoy!

JOSEPH:
Hello, Easter Bunny, and welcome to the Obsessed podcast.

EB:
Hi, Joseph! Thanks for having me!

JOSEPH:
Now, Easter Bunny, I wanted to ask you right away, do you like to be called the Easter Bunny or do you have another name, a Christian name?

EB:
Yeah, I like being called the Easter Bunny. Wouldn’t you? Like regular bunnies just get called “Bunny.” But my friends call me EB sometimes.

JOSEPH:
Excellent. And for the people listening to the podcast, can you describe your general appearance, EB?

EB:
Yeah, I’m a small bunny wearing a sharp jacket. And I have a fluffy white tail, fluffy ears, a twitchy nose–but not in a negative way. Also, I travel everywhere with this basket.

JOSEPH:
And can you describe the pants situation?

EB:
Well, there’s an upside to being a bunny. I don’t have to wear pants and it’s not weird. I can just wear a jacket. Who else gets to do that?

JOSEPH:
And can you describe the contents of your basket?

EB:
I just brought some samples for the studio audience. We got some standard eggs, some chocolate replicas of myself, a sticker book collection, and some temporary tattoos.

JOSEPH:
Awesome. So everything that a kid would expect to find in their yard.

EB:
Yeah, I didn’t know if this basket was for a boy or a girl. I could have brought like a Transformer or an Easter themed Barbie.

JOSEPH:
So you still give presents based on gender? Because a lot of parents want things to be gender neutral now.

EB:
Well, I have a gender neutral basket. That basket has, like, elephants.

JOSEPH:
Okay, let’s talk a little bit about the eggs. Because I asked the internet for questions and the big one was “Do the eggs come out of you?”

EB:
Do you really want to know? I mean this is kind of a hot dog factory question.

JOSEPH:
I want to know how the sausage is made, I really do.

EB:
Okay. Yeah. I excrete these eggs.

JOSEPH:
And…and…do you shoot them out over the year and refrigerate? Or is this like a night before thing, you just gotta get in there and groan ‘em out?

EB:
You know it’s one of those things that I put a note on my calendar around January that says, “Hey, you should get on the egg excreting.” But then you just put it off, you put it off. I got Call of Duty. And I’m really distracted. So I don’t really get around to it until February.

JOSEPH:
And this brings up another question. You play Call of Duty, a stereotypically male video game, what is your gender?

EB:
Yeah. Well. I’m female. I produce eggs. The stories call me “Mister” sometimes, but I don’t mind. It feels very K.D. Lang to me. I mean, I’m wearing a jacket and no pants. It’s all there if someone wants to look.

JOSEPH:
Okay. I have to ask you about your religious affiliation. Do you consider your work to be religious or secular?

EB:
Um. Well. Here’s the thing. I would be more than happy to bring baskets to all the children of the world, but I’m made of ham.

JOSEPH:
Okay.

EB:
So as much as I would like to reach out to Muslim kids or Jewish kids–I feel the call of their hearts and want to bring them baskets–but I’m made of ham so I can’t go into their lives. It’s heartbreaking. Sometimes I cry.

JOSEPH:
So when you’re delivering baskets do the parents or the kids ever see you?

EB:
No, I want to be invisible like a dim sum bus boy. I want to be unseen. If I could email people their Easter baskets, I would, but you gotta do it in person.

JOSEPH:
Okay. And why do you hide the eggs? That seems like kind of a fuck you to the kids to make them work to find the eggs. Why don’t you just leave them on the doorstep or something?

EB:
I want to teach kids that not everything is instant gratification. If you hand them everything they develop a real lazy ethic. I tried that. I tried it for one year. And all the kids just woke up with eggs in their hands.

JOSEPH:
Was that around 1974? Is that what happened to Generation X?

EB:
Yep! That’s what happened. Also waking up with an egg in your hand is very startling. A lot of the eggs were broken. “Ahh! What’s that?” a lot of people said. I tried it, Joseph, and it wasn’t positive.

JOSEPH:
Well, I’m glad you tried. So, I’d like to get into your specific obsession. We like to have guests on the podcast to talk about what they’re really interested in and you are interested in the British television show Sherlock.

EB:
Oh yeah, I love it. In fact, that’s why I was so late this year on excreting the eggs. ‘Cause I was watching Sherlock again.

JOSEPH:
So that’s not something you can multi-task, the egg excretion?

EB:
Well, not with a show like Sherlock. It takes a lot of focus. If you’re watching something stupid like The Real Housewives of Whatever, you could probably excrete eggs at the same time, but Sherlock, you’re going to miss something, a crucial detail, and you’ll have to go back and watch it again.

JOSEPH:
But you have watched it multiple times, right?

EB:
Oh yeah.

JOSEPH:
So why does it speak to you?

EB:
Oh, man. I like putting together clues. I feel like I’m smart like Sherlock. Like I have to figure stuff out. When I’m in a kid’s house delivering their basket or hiding their eggs, I have to figure out clues. I’m like the reverse Sherlock. Because when I hide eggs it’s like I’m making a mystery. And while I’m hiding eggs I like to think, “Could Sherlock find this egg?” The answer’s yes because I’m hiding them for a small child to find.

JOSEPH:
So, it’s like you’re hiding them for Watson.

EB:
Yeah.

JOSEPH:
So how do you feel this obsession manifests for you? Like certain obsessions you can buy a t-shirt or you can engage in the activity. How do you engage besides just watching?

EB:
Well, I have a tiny violin that I’ve been playing just to be more like Sherlock. And as I go around, I try to solve mysteries the way Sherlock would. So while I’m in people’s homes I try to figure out things about them. Like whose parents are having an affair or was anyone ever murdered here. That kind of thing.

JOSEPH:
So when you figure that out do you do anything with that information? Like if you came into my home and thought I killed someone, would you just be like “Cool, I’m going to go excrete some eggs” or would you do something about that?

EB:
Did you kill someone?

JOSEPH:
No, but you can look at my clothes and try to guess like Sherlock.

EB:
Okay. Well, I see that you’re wearing black pants and a black shirt which means obviously you’re on the tech crew of a high school theater production. You’re wearing red converse shoes which means you were the best man in a hilarious wedding. Your shirt seems relatively well-kempt, but it is not new which means you just did a high school theater production which means you’re about eighteen and a half years old and, yes, you murdered someone.

JOSEPH:
Excellent! That was just like Sherlock. Except you don’t have a Watson to explain it to so the audience will never know what it really means.

EB:
Yep!

JOSEPH:
So, if there were a lot of Sherlock merchandise that you could purchase–let’s imagine there’s British television Sherlock underwear with just a big picture of Benedict Cumberbatch on the front–is that something you would want to purchase and own and wear?

EB:
I don’t know. Because then I’m wearing a jacket and underwear and it crosses the line for people. If there was a little tie with Benedict’s face on it that would be cute.

JOSEPH:
And do you like Benedict? I think a lot of people are drawn to this adaptation of Sherlock because it’s fast-paced and intelligent but also because they really like Benedict Cumberbatch.

EB:
Have you noticed his nose is twitchy and he has little beady eyes? He’s a dreamboat from a rabbit perspective.

JOSEPH:
And to me, that’s a rabbit name, Benedict Cumberbatch.

EB:
Absolutely.

JOSEPH:
Now, if you were offered a role on the show would you take it?

EB:
That would be amazing to be on the show!

JOSEPH:
What kind of role would you want to play?

EB:
I would like to be like some master criminal mastermind that Sherlock has to come to terms with.

JOSEPH:
And would you try to disguise the fact that you’re a bunny?

EB:
Yeah, I’d wear a wig. I want to see this episode now that you put it out there.

JOSEPH:
So how many times have you watched Sherlock?

EB:
Oh, a lot. Probably eight times. That and Call of Duty is why I didn’t start until February on the eggs. Sorry, kids.

JOSEPH:
It’ll work out, right?

EB:
Oh yeah, it always does.

JOSEPH:
So I would like to do some lightning round questions. I got some questions from the internet.

EB:
Oh my.

JOSEPH:
These are just random questions people wanted to ask the Easter Bunny. So do you drink alcohol?

EB:
No.

JOSEPH:
Why not?

EB:
You gotta keep your mind sharp. You gotta stay clean.

JOSEPH:
If you drank alcohol would it show up in the eggs?

EB:
Yeah, that happened one time.

JOSEPH:
What was it you drank?

EB:
Blackberry Brandy. It’s nasty. At first I thought it was delicious which is why I kept drinking it. But then I woke up in a pool of my own eggs.

JOSEPH:
Would you ever wear a utilikilt?

EB:
I don’t know. I like having my lower haunches free and easy. And things get caught on your tail.

JOSEPH:
So you don’t wear a utilikilt because of your tail?

EB:
Yeah, unless I wore it under my tail and then I’d look like a gangsta rabbit and no one wants that.

JOSEPH:
Is Bugs Bunny real?

EB:
No, that’s a cartoon, don’t be stupid.

JOSEPH:
Can you run faster than Superman?

EB:
Oh yeah.

JOSEPH:
Awesome. Next question. Why do Cadbury eggs, not the ones you produce, but Cadbury eggs taste like shit?

EB:
Oh. Well, you have amazing shit. Whoever wrote that question should keep going with whatever their diet is.

JOSEPH:
Excellent. And if you could excrete something besides eggs what would you excrete?

EB:
Mp3 players. Just small ones. iPod Shuffle size. And it would come pre-loaded with sweet jams.

JOSEPH:
What kind of sweet jams? What kind of music do you like?

EB:
Like Bach.

JOSEPH:
And the final lightning round question: Do you own a firearm?

EB:
No. I have paws. Firing a gun with a paw is hard. But for home security I tend to use lasers.

JOSEPH:
So like a grid?

EB:
Yeah.

JOSEPH:
So, is your home like a cave?

EB:
Yeah, it’s a hutch. So I don’t get a lot of people breaking in on purpose. Just like curious Boy Scouts. Or cavers.

JOSEPH:
Is there anyone else around the hutch cave thing? Do you have a man friend? Are you dating anyone?

EB:
Oh, no. I used to try to date within the mythological community and that doesn’t really work out. I get some leprechauns drunk dialing me, though.

JOSEPH:
Understandable.

EB:
I’ve also tried to date regular rabbits. But they don’t really interest me. All they want to do is IT, because they’re rabbits.

JOSEPH:
And you don’t have that same drive?

EB:
No. They’re not going to sit down and watch Sherlock with me. They’re rabbits.

JOSEPH:
So, they only want to have sex?

EB:
Or just stare at you and be terrified.

JOSEPH:
So, it’s sex or terror and that’s it?

EB:
Yep.

JOSEPH:
Okay, EB, I have some final questions for you. These are the serious, pompous wrap-up questions I ask all my guests. Are you ready?

EB:
Yeah, sure.

JOSEPH:
If you could only say one word for the rest of your life, what would that word be?

EB:
Hop.

JOSEPH:
Excellent. If someone made a rock opera about your life, what would it be called?

EB:
Eggs Oh Yeah.

JOSEPH:
What’s the punctuation in that title?

EB:
A semi-colon.

JOSEPH:
So Eggs Semi-Colon Oh Yeah?

EB:
Yes, to imply they are separate but dependent clauses.

JOSEPH:
Like Sex; Terror.

EB:
Yes.

JOSEPH:
And finally, Easter Bunny, what is happiness?

EB:
Happiness is strolling through a meadow filled with hidden eggs and discovering them on a bright, beautiful morning.

JOSEPH:
Thank you, Easter Bunny!

-fini-

Thanks for reading this lost episode of Obsessed! A new episode will be up next week. In the meantime, you can listen to recent episodes with Wil Wheaton and Mike Phirman on Beer and Pro-Tools or Sharon Stiteler and Ari Hoptman on Swearing!

If you enjoy my work, you can sign up for my fan list here and make more comedy possible by buying a book, a comedy album, or a script here.

Listen, rate, review, and subscribe to OBSESSED on iTunes.

All of this awesomeness was because of Jonathan Coulton’s JoCoCruiseCrazy.

Everything about the cruise was great. The other performers, the attendees (they self-identify as Sea Monkeys), and all of the events both official and unofficial. Even the things that weren’t necessarily great were amusing. (The staff really did want to sell you more stuff at all times. I’m surprised they don’t have staff members with mini-bars in each individual bathroom stall. It would be efficient.)

I did a brand new show on the mainstage that went really well. It was a light comedy show about all of my flaws as a human being. Stylistically, it’s a Frankenstein’s monster made out of parts of stand-up comedy, storytelling, theater, and drinking beer with friends. I’ve done a lot of different kinds of comedy performance, but this particular beast is the kind of show I want to be doing, so the warm reception was very gratifying. Hopefully, I’ll be doing more performances of the show and eventually recording it.

I also got to record an episode of my podcast Obsessed with my pals Molly Lewis, Mike Phirman, and Wil Wheaton. They were hilarious, insightful, and all-around perfect guests for the podcast, so go check out the beer and pro-tools episode and rate the hell out of the podcast on iTunes.

The kind Sea Monkeys also bought up all the copies of my book and comedy album that I brought on the boat. I performed a live riff with Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy. I played a starship simulator video game called Artemis live on stage. I danced to the mad DJ skillz of David Rees and John Hodgman. I decided Paul (of Paul and Storm) could use some interpretive dance (aka mime humping) during his rockin’ karaoke version of “Wanted Dead Or Alive.” I accidentally walked past the door to my stateroom while entirely sober and the steward pointed and laughed for a full thirty seconds. My lovely wife, Sara, did an amazing job helping the shows run smoothly backstage. Sara and I also had a nice romantic moment when we were terrified by the infamous hanging monkey towel animal.

I could go on and on about the cruise, but strangely the event that gave me the most perspective happened on the way home. (For more on the cruise itself, I suggest watching Greg Benson’s hilarious videos, reading Jonathan’s wrap up or Sea Monkey Alice’s blog post.)

The Sea Monkeys have a kind habit of applauding the performers when they enter the ship’s dining room. When Sara and I walked down the aisle of our packed plane home, two Sea Monkeys quietly, lightly applauded. We had a brief chat about accepting our transition back into the real world.

“We want to yell the thing, but we can’t,” said the Sea Monkeys. The thing was an ongoing joke to yell “SEX PARTY!” during performances. Definitely not the thing to yell on a crowded plane.

But it was a lovely moment to share. The mood on the cruise is very supportive and intense like we’re all members of a kindness cult.

Strangely, the man I sat next to on the plane turned out to actually be a member of a cult.

He was very friendly and not wearing robes or waving a dagger or anything. Let’s say his name was Ed. He was probably in his 50s, he smiled a lot, and told me he owned a feed mill in Amsterdam. He didn’t make any jokes about milling pot for animals. I didn’t either.

After the normal small talk, he told me that he had been in Orlando for a week to learn about approaching the world with kindness.

“That’s nice,” I thought. “I’ve been on a floating hotel doing a comedy/music convention that spent a lot of time celebrating kindness. Maybe I should have an open mind.”

Then he gave me a card for Avatar, the Compassion Project. I looked up Avatar. It’s been described as Scientology-Lite. It was founded by a guy who got sued by the Church of Scientology for ripping off their materials, so he went rogue. To review, this organization was formed by a man who was too morally bankrupt to be a Scientologist.

Ed told me the program had taught him to mill feed for animals in a manner that exposed rabbits to their inner happiness. I am not making this up. Ed wanted me to read a passage from his new Avatar book. It had blown his mind.

Around the same time, a child in the seat in front of us started yelling about how to spell Mickey Mouse. The child insisted that there is no “e.” That it’s spelled M-I-C-K-Y. (Much like Scottish Whisky has no e, so she must be a fan of single malt Scottish cartoon mice.) The child decided to prove she was right by repeatedly yelling “KY!”

I tried to focus on the passage in an effort to be friendly toward the smiling man who believed a bastardized version of Scientology can make bunnies reach their full potential. I was pretty sure I would think the passage was manipulative bullshit, but I might as well be friendly.

This was the greatly paraphrased gist of the passage:

Any text that spreads the message of kindness (like this one) is holy. Anyone who speaks against a holy message is a monster. Therefore, anyone who disagrees with what this book says about kindness is a horrible, evil person.

I finished reading and said, “Okay.”

Ed smiled and said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

The child screamed, “KY!”

“That passage changed my life,” Ed said.

“Huh,” I answered.

“KY!”

I decided the best form of kindness I could show Ed and myself was to not go on a rant about how awful and disturbing I found his life changing passage.

Instead, I turned and chatted with Sara for a few minutes. Ed got lost in his book again. The child still screamed “KY!” long after her parents had agreed, “Yeah, sure, that’s how you spell Mickey. Please stop screaming KY.”

A lot of the performers and the Sea Monkeys had spent a week on JoCoCruiseCrazy pushing themselves to try new things. New songs, new jokes, new games, new drinks, new people, new experiences, new and inappropriate times and places to yell “SEX PARTY!”

There was a significant amount of discussion that people felt safe to try new things during the cruise because there was an almost surreal level of support, encouragement, and kindness.

Real, simple kindness. Like, “Hey, you should try karaoke. All we ask is that you try hard and have fun and we will applaud. We won’t lie to you and tell you you’re great if you’re not, but we sure as hell won’t laugh at you or throw things.”

If there is a passage about karaoke in the Avatar books I’m sure it’s vile and manipulative stuff teaching the important lesson that ONLY AVATAR CAN SHOW YOU THE WAY TO TRUE KARAOKE AND ONLY IF YOU PAY US A LOT OF MONEY AND HARSHLY JUDGE ALL WHO QUESTION THE ONE TRUE KARAOKE.

And I have a horrible feeling that the ONE TRUE AVATAR KARAOKE SONG is probably “Free Bird.”

In short, I’m very happy to have gone to my own week long seminar on kindness. One that happened organically and honestly without an agenda. One that happened simply because people felt safe to say, “Hey, is it cool if I try something new?”

And the only response they got from the rest of the Sea Monkeys was a resounding, “Yes!”

Usually followed by a resounding “SEX PARTY!”

Thanks, friends.