Thursday, May 1, 2014

An experiment of cleanliness in all it's extravagant excellence

I have made a decision, right now, to write a clean blog. A totally, completely, unquestionably clean blog. A blog completely absent of filth, controversial themes, naughty words, or even my usual favorite, downright psychotic imagery.

‘Why the fuck do you want to do that?’ I hear you ask.

And I must say, please don’t think swear words at me, I mean normally you can think any sort of swear word you want at me, dick, cunt, shithead, cocksucker, hemorrhoid ravaged anus – you can think any or all of these things in my direction, anytime. I don’t care at all; they are all devoid of any crudeness or ability to offend to me. I see and hear billions of words all the time, I really don’t give a shi.. I mean crap, about which is which. Except today. Because today, and right now, I am going to write a clean blog (I first misspelled ‘write’ with the incorrect ‘right’ which tells me that my sub-conscience thinks this idea is on the ‘correct’ or maybe even ‘write’ path. Wait if ‘right’ means ‘correct’, shouldn’t we also be able to substitute ‘write’ with ‘wcorect’?)

‘Why?’ I hear you ask.

And I must say thank you, for editing your question down to its bare essence, devoid of the type of curses and swears often used in such times. And thanks to your well-asked question, I will now tell you why.

You see, as some of you may know, in the past couple of weeks, after a three or four year absence, I have made a sudden and triumphant return to the world of stand-up comedy. And it was during my last set, in the midst of play-acting a wonderfully accurate portrayal of medieval Great Brittan, while highlighting the history I assume my ancestors have with fucking pigs, that I thought to myself 'oh, fuck, I'm doing really dirty shit again'. My two sets the week before this set, just to give one more example, had been highlighted with an in depth discussion of bloody diareah. And I didn’t mean to set down that rocky highway. I’m not a shock comedian who forces laughs with grossness rather than wit, I’m a pre-ordained future comedic genius, so I should be able to get laughs without referencing shitting chicks, to give another example of the filth I have been talking about.

Now, just to be clear, I am not denouncing this material. Did I enjoy bloody dirareh? Of course. I bloody enjoyed the hell out of it. I squeezed it for all the hilarity I could ooze from it, and it was vivid, and relatable and funny and fun to do. Am I done with bloody dierah? Of course not, I have a lot of bloody dierah in my future - possibly even in my comedy - zing. Bloody direaheah got laughs, and so you can sure as hell trust that bloody dierah will return to my act. However the point is I don't want to just be the bloody direaheah guy. Apart from anything, I just can't spell that damn word no matter how many times I try.

In my fear, and desperation to re-launch with a bang, I shied away from my more clever, subtler, wittier, more absurd and surreal type of humor, which I actually prefer way more, and instead decided for some reason to just be the grossest human being possible, with a threat that if the audience didn’t laugh I may make them shake my hand after. But then, having started down this path, I am finding my journey back into the irreverent territory I dream of is becoming way harder to find that I hoped.

 Which brings me back to this blog. It's time, at least in the short term, to work on some cleaner, less visually revolting material. It’s time to just to really see if I can remember how to write things based around absurdist takes on what are usually very tame or even typically mundane experiences. And I'm sure that old muscle of mine will shift into gear, and any second from now, I’ll think of something very routine and I'll suddenly let fly:

Remember the last time you ate a carrot and you tried to convince yourself for a little while that by not peeling it you were doing both yourself and the carrot a favor - and that just because the outside of this carrot was the very part of the carrot which was adjacent and even squirming it's way through the dirt, doesn't mean that it can't get properly clean. And how you’re pretty much sure that any worms that came and said G'day to the carrot over the course of the carrot’s growth period were surely not the same ones who just a day early were helping to decompose a rotting skunk carcass. And even if they were, worms don't eat skunk scrotum and then wiggle over to the carrot patch and spit it on the carrot. And even if they do, why would spat up dead skunk scrotum be any different to wash off than dirt? I mean it might be? Maybe spat up skunk scrotum has gone through a physical metamorphosis allowing it to penetrate the skin of a carrot in a way rendering it unable to be washed off? I mean how much do you really know about worm spit or skunk scrotum, let alone the combination of them both? But still, would peeling it help? Maybe the entire carrot is now infected. It almost certainly is. So why go to all the effort to peel it, I mean who has the time? And besides why didn't who ever bought these carrots, instead buy the pre-washed pre-peeled ones - your roommate must be a cheap bastard, but you've noticed that when you buy the pre-washed pre-peeled ones, he doesn't complain - he eats them with not even a suggestion of why the spat up skunk scrotum ones are his purchase of choice. You'd think if those were the ones YOU chose you'd at least say something right? So maybe he knows something you don't, maybe he's actually broken down the science of it and concluded that your suspicions are in fact correct and all carrots are absolutely riddled with all types of worm spat up animal scrotums, and therefore peeling IS irrelevant and yet pre-peeled and washed does save you a couple of seconds of cleaning off the very removable dirt grime, but still you knew this you bastard roommate and you never told me? Plus why the hell do we still eat so many carrots around in this apartment? I heard scientists have retracted their claim that these things are good for your eyes anyway. Fucking scientists.

In my fantasy I would reach the end of the observational section of this beautifully clean and filth free typical day to day problem with eating a healthy vegetable, and then after getting all the facts out of the way, as I have done above, all the undeniable observational truths which we all live with every time we eat a carrot, I would then, just to blow people’s minds, now get that clean yet cheeky muscle to tighten and bulge and add a bunch of now made up facts about trying to eat a carrot. Stuff that not everyone experiences, and yet can totally imagine, because of how subtly witty I slide it in, almost like I’m still talking about the stuff we all know about, making you think maybe you do actually think about this stuff also, possibly even with a satirical bent or even ironical flashes, furthering the experience of a typical carrot eating in a comedically heightened way.

But alas my muscle sits weak. Fuck me, I can’t think of god damn hemoroid ravaged anus thing. Oh fuc… I mean screw it. I guess I'll leave it merely with the observational facts, and just be happy with myself that I fulfilled my wish and wrote a piece with not one filthy joke. Oh, and if possible, come check out some of my stand-up, I have a feeling I am going to book a lot of gigs soon, either that or I’ll totally make the booking people shake my hand. I might even talk about bloody diar.. direah, dirarg – jesus fucking Christ that word is a cunt to spell.

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