Hey fellas, can we stop using comedy as a veil for our sexism? Women shouldn’t have to feel guilty for their gender. Oh, I’m not saying don’t be edgy. I wouldn’t try to stop you from being edgy! But if you have to resort to “so I raped her!” or “why abortions gotta be so expensive!?” go away. Just leave. Think about your life. Maybe read a few books and come back when you can be cleverer. There’s a difference between being an edgy, raw comic and being just a shitheaded, mean-spirited person. Also, women, calling yourselves sluts and joking about sleeping around to get a rise out of audiences is a discredit to your own gender. Shoot higher than Whitney Cummings. Being a worse person doesn’t make you a better comedian. And I’m by no means claiming to know anything about comedy. But I can say with 100% confidence I’ve never hurt anyone’s feelings because of what I’ve said on stage. If that’s your prerogative, go fuck yourself. There. I fixed everything.
By request of The Internet, here is the video I tweeted about.
There is an old phrase “cat’s out of the bag”.
I took a video of my cat literally walking out of a bag. Not sure what happens next. Just gonna sit here and wait it out.
Thank you to my friend Kevin Hinman for making this and sending it to me.
He is (sometimes snarkily) critiquing movie frames over at http://theillstills.tumblr.com.
Look, I don’t know Jerry Sandusky. I can’t vouch for him. Maybe he’s a cool guy. And I don’t condone what he did by any means. But maybe he was just a dude people liked. But if I saw one of my coworkers molesting a kid I would definitely report it to the police personally. I couldn’t report it fast enough. Then again they’re also really into hair gel, Jersey Shore and some guy named Gucci Mane so they’re criminals already as far as I’m concerned.
I’m just trying to leave behind a legacy on this internet. That’s all.
Here’s where that link goes:
https://twitter.com/#!/danieleastman/status/160968349692608512
So Long, SOPA…
As an overweight asthmatic kid I was never picked for sports. Instead, I went home to comic books and video games. Alone. I devoured music and movies. Too much was never enough. Pop culture was a drug to me. You can image my joy when we got the internet at home. Later on, I never fit in at my day jobs. While everyone couldn’t wait to go home and drink beers watching whatever sport was on or go out to the club, I just wanted to go blog snarkily about Nickleback. I didn’t care how played out those jokes were. I still made them and people on the internet thought they were hilarious. Then came SOPA.
SOPA threatened to ruin everything I loved in life and apparently a lot of people felt the same way. Finally, I found a place in the world where I belonged. The bill proposed to stop online piracy but we knew it was about something else. It was about control. They were trying to control our lives and our happiness.
To me, SOPA was nothing more than an extension of the jocks and macho coworkers once again trying to alienate me. Fuck that. Sure, maybe I downloaded a couple hundred thousand songs but I was no pirate. I signed every petition and blogged about it with no end. I emailed it and posted it in every comment section of every website from drunkenstepfather.com to AVClub.com and even What.cd. Everywhere.
Finally, the entire internet had heard about SOPA and signed the petition against it. Reddit and Wikipedia even blacked out for a whole day! With so much backlash Congress decided to shelve the bill. And I was partially responsible. We did it! Yeah!
Soon after everything went back to normal. People went back to using the free information available to them on Wikipedia, they peacefully downloaded Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol from thepiratebay.com, and looked up clips of Foxy Shazam on YouTube. The dust had settled and I was all alone again. I had found a cause to fight for and now that it’s gone, I have nothing. Just fucking videos of shitty stand up comedians to dissect. Don’t think that doesn’t get boring after a minute.
I’m not saying I regreat stopping SOPA, per say. I just miss the fight is all. Sure, I could go get a job as a street activist for stupid fucking Amnesty of SaveTheChildren.org. Yeah, right. Like anyone wants to stand in the fucking bitter cold or sweat their balls off in grueling summertime heat. With SOPA I could protest from the comfort of my own mom’s home while ripping “Watch the Throne”. SOPA made it comfortable. Now I’ve got nothing. Well, almost nothing…
Let’s just hope they never actually legalize gay marriage. Then I’m really fucked.
I need my inhaler.
My Super-Scathing Humorous Yelp review of CLEAR Wireless Internet
I sure wish I could swear on Yelp! I mean, I probably could if I wanted to ditch professionalism. But look, I’ve really got to rip into Clear internet here people. Hope you’re buckled up because here comes a scathing review!
First, there is absolutely zero customer service which I will reference periodically throughtout this story. Every time I had to call their customer service line, which was so many times by the way, I got on the line with some drone reading off a script. “I understand sir. I am sorry sir,” the voice would tell me. But eventually I came to understand it was all lies. If you were really sorry you would make the sadness go away but you can’t. CLEAR is just paying you to say these things.
Why was I constantly calling CLEAR? Well, the service was incredibly slow. Like, yeah, I totally clicked on this YouTube video of a dude getting knocked out so I could watch it tomorrow…not! Good one, CLEAR. After calling them, they told me they placed a cap on my internet usage because I use too much. Oh yeah? I work ten hours every day you guys so there. I’ve got a 30 second video of a breakdancing cat that begs to differ!
Oh? I’m using too much internet and you are trying to stop me? Way to go, Big Brother! I pay you $50 per month when you lied saying I’d only pay $40. You are lying liars, CLEAR internet. “We just try to limit some users so that all users have an equally positive internet experience.” Great. Glad I have an iPhone with 3G capabilities. Because my experience is so far from positive. It. Is. Negative! Sheesh.
Eventually we lost service altogether. I called everyday for a week. Each day they gave me a different excuse. From “Oh, let me reset the signal.” to “Let’s do a hard reset and I will reconfigure your device.” and finally “Well, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.” The last one was more profound than anything. I think the representative was actually having an existential meltdown over the phone. You had to be there.
Now that I am cancelling the service they are trying to charge me $90. When I signed up they told me the fee for cancellation was $40. The reason for the $90 charge is because I have not completed a full year. This stipulation was not CLEAR when I signed up. I have not completed a full year because the service is garbage. CLEAR internet is a lie. They take away our freedom on the internet. We don’t need this. We already stopped SOPA. CLEAR is bullshit. There. I swore. It felt great.
Thank you. I apologize for any spelling errors. I am enraged.
See review here.
While you’re all joking about Wikipedia blacking out, I’m over here changing the face of Twitter as we know it. You’re welcome.
TODAY IS YOUR DAY! GET MOTIVATED! GET DEDICATED!
Come on, people, let’s do it. This is our time. It’s time to do it. Here it is: the first day of the rest of our lives! Let’s MAKE THINGS HAPPEN! BOILER ROOM style, baby! BOILER ROOM! Always Be Closing! YEAH! Sell sell $ell!!! We are the masters of our own destiny! Do it. Do it. DO IT. You know what they say, anyone who says money can’t buy happiness… it’s their money we’re trying to take! Get out there and take it! Molest their wallets! See your future, be your future, make $$$, be handsomer! Today is the day. DO IT!
You know what that is? It’s a CENTIPEDE EATING A SNAKE! It’s from YouTube.com. Know why I put it there? To get me (and you) fucking juiced, that’s why! Centipedes are badass. Name one person who doesn’t lose absolutely all of their shit when they see a centipede. You can’t. Everyone loses their shit. Be a centipede, bro.
Today is your day! It’s yours for the taking! Yesterday is but a memory that can only haunt us in our dreams if we repress it enough!! And we are sleeping when we have dreams…DON’T GO TO SLEEP EVER!!!! 5-Hour Energy ™ drinks! UNLEASH THE BEAST! (energydrinks.com) Be a ROCKSTAR ™! Feel the rush…
Come on!!! Are you gonna be a clown in the rodeo of your life? Or are you gonna TAKE THE BULL BY THE HORNS? It’s only TUESDAY!! You’ve got the rest of the week, you can murder someone everyday if you try. Don’t be afraid to shred. Shredding sounds cool. Divorce is a necessary evil. Block out negativity. Embrace change!!!! Read “Who Moved My Cheese?” by Dr. Spencer Johnson. Learn to cope. Be a rockstar. Be the light in the darkness. Take charge of your destiny! Always be closing. Don’t die. $ell.
01/12/2012: A Weird Day
I woke up early around 9am with anticipation of the show eating away at my gut. I was anxious but not nervous. I was prepared. I’d gone over my material several times and then some. It was the second time I’d be opening for Dave Hill. After falling flat a year ago, I practiced harder and pushed myself to be funnier. I could not have been more ready.
Around 11:30am, I receive a Facebook friend request from a familiar name. I hadn’t seen the name in years but it stayed fresh with me. My father, who I haven’t seen since age six, was attempting to contact me. I’d wondered for years what would happen if he were to come back into my life. After all, he just upped and left without explanation. Would I freak out in a shitstorm of emotional outpouring? I thought I’d have to ponder forever when I had nothing better to think about (eg. Breaking Bad, George Saunders, selection of lunchtime hoagie, etc.) but here it was, the moment of truth.
At first I wanted to just totally lose all of my shit and freak out on him. However, before a complete loss of shit, I made the relatively level-headed decision to check out his profile a bit. I find a haggard, balding 40-something looking fat but strung out, wearing a tattered Harley Davidson t-shirt. Under education it read: “Jefferson County Jail ‘10”. Yeah, so cool. It seemed too pathetic to even poke fun of. That was until I noticed the message he attached to the friend request: “just wanna see what a loser u r”.
I could let it slide, I thought. I’ve been called worse by people way more successful than he’ll ever be. As far as I’m concerned he’s just a piece of shit on the internet looking for attention. I can just let it go. “Hold the fuck on,” a devil on my shoulder hissed in my ear. “This piece of shit is your father. You two have a connection. You can ruin him!” It’s on motherfucker! And I did what any man would do:
I called my mom.
“Mom, look, my dad contacted me. I need the dirt. Gimme all the dirt.” After explaining that “the dirt” was code for harmful information that can ruin his reputation, she proceeded to give me the dirt. As it turns out, my father doesn’t really have a reputation to ruin as a result of too much dirt. The reason he left all those years ago is because he was going to jail for multiple DUI offenses. He’d also been charged with rape, spend time in a mental institution, and had several illegitimate children from multiple women, one of which I remember: a baby girl whose mother was on so many drugs during pregnancy that she was born without thumbs. He used to tease her and call her Thumbelina. I don’t remember her real name.
I went back to the internet to respond to the message: “I will not accept your stupid Facebook friend request. I don’t associate with filthy rapist criminals, stupid. Why don’t you go to the trash because you are garbage. No wait, why don’t you go jump in a toilet because you are shit. No wait, why don’t you go back to Jefferson County Jail? Yeeah! You need to know two things about my life, I’m successful and you’re not going to be involved with it.” And then I blocked him so he couldn’t respond to ensure I got the last word in, which was great.
Not five minutes later, I receive a link to a write-up from BiteTV for their Comedy Spotlight. It would have been cool to send in the Facebook message but I’d already moved on. This was an incredible feeling.
Around 7:30pm, I’m in the dressing room with Dave and Nikki basically getting into my own head before the show. I would be lying if the word “loser” wasn’t lingering on my mind now. I could go out there and let this guy win. I could let the memory of my bombing last year come back to haunt me. Or I could just go out there and make something good happen. When Corey, the booker, introduced me I basically started shitting my pants through the first minute of my set. Then I sort of blacked out and started running on instinct.
8:20pm. I get off stage and run out back. My mouth is dry. My head is spinning. I go outside with Corey. “That was awesome,” he tells me. People approach me after the show for my information. “Dude! I don’t wanna sound gay or nothin’, but can I get a picture with you?” High fives and handshakes abound. I recall doing poorly at open mics and it was worth it. Butch women have threatened to murder me and called me the N-word. But it made me better. I have never had more fun in comedy than Thursday, January 12th, 2012.
After the crowd finally filed out, I went to Wawa for ice cream because I won.
