Monthly Archives: January 2012

I don’t think politicians even know what they’re saying anymore.  They just throw out words like “job creation,” “freedom,” and “socialism.”

It reminds me of that one kid in a college art class who keeps using the term “postmodern.”  Everything’s so postmodern, and everybody just accepts it.  Nobody goes –

Nobody: “Define postmodernism.”

Pretentious kid’s like –

Pretentious kid: “Uh…after modernism?” {bursting into tears} “I’m a pretentious fraud!”

If we grilled politicians like that, we’d get the same result.

Politician: “Obama is a socialist.”
Commentator: “Define ‘socialism.’”
Politician: “Um…well…it’s, uh, it’s like communism, but more…social?” {throwing hands in the air} “America!” {bursting into tears} “I have no idea what I’m talking about!”

* * *

It’s insane to me that we let politicians speak in such broad generalities and meaningless catch phrases.  There’s no other job you can get by avoiding your opinions and attacking your competitors.  It’s like –

Interviewer: “So John, what do you plan on doing if we promote you to manager at McDonald’s?”
John: {making stiff hand gestures} “I think we’re going to make it through these tough times — because I believe in McDonald’s.”
Interviewer: “Okay, good, but what’re you going to do?”
John: “Well I’m not gonna do what the other candidate plans on doing.”
Interviewer: “Timmy?  How do you know what he’s going to do?”
John: “I’ve looked into his previous job experience.  Pretty shady.”
Interviewer: “That’s none of your concern.  I’m asking what you’re going to do?”
John: “I’m gonna make progress, that’s what I’m going to do.  I’m gonna make sure McDonald’s remains the #1 fast food chain in America.”
Interviewer: “Okay, be specific.  Cleaner fry machines?  Breaking up shifts?”
John: {throwing hands in the air} “McDonald’s!” {bursting into tears} “I have no plan!”

I hate when someone quits smoking and everyone goes –

Everyone: {patting him/her on the back} “Good for you.”

I never smoked in the first place.  Do I have to develop an addiction to earn your adoration?!

Nobody’s cheering for me is all I’m saying.  They’re too busy applauding the gold medal winner at the Special Olympics.

I know.  The dude’s retarded…but he’s still better than I am!  I mean, do you see any trophies on my wall?  ‘Son of the Year’ does not count — especially because I made it for myself.

* * *

I don’t know.  Sometimes I feel like people excel just to spite me — like all human achievement has been publicized to make me feel under-accomplished.

That’s clearly why they invented facebook.  So people could update me on the various ways in which they’re surpassing my (lack of) accomplishments –

Dude: “I just ran a 5K.”
Nerd: “Linus Solomon is in a relationship.”
Woman: “I just got a sexy surprise from my boyfriend.  Winky face…”

I’m like –

Josh: “Would you stop writing that on my wall, Mom?”

You know why Yo-Yo Ma learned how to play the cello?  To hold concerts to remind everyone that I can’t do that.

You know why Michael Jordan dedicated his entire life to basketball?  So that he could win three back-to-back championships, look into the camera and say –

Michael Jordan: {cocky} “Take that, Lehrman.”

I bet if I watched old news footage, I’d find it there, too:

JFK: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do to thwart Josh Lehrman.”

When I was in film school, my friends and I realized pretty quickly that putting out casting calls is a really easy way to meet women; so, every now and again we’d post a role on a casting website like –

“Looking for attractive female, ages 21 – eh…whatever.  Part is a lawyer, doctor, or any other occupation that makes enough money to support her struggling writer boyfriend.  (Acting is just part-time.)  Character has a good sense of humor, is intelligent, open, and loves main character despite his glaringly obvious flaws.  She is self-aware, soulful, and does not exist.”

Here’s what I’m afraid my writing career is going to be.  I’m going to spend years and years torturing myself to write meaningful pieces of art, and then I’m going to sell the one thing that I wrote out of spite, like Fart Police.

And then, even worse, Fart Police will actually be a huge hit, and I’ll be contractually obligated to write Fart Police 2 through 17.  I’ll be pleading with the studios, like –

Josh: “You guys, I have all these other scripts I’d love to make.  They’re really personal and important.”

– and the studios will say –

Studios: “Oh, that’s great…but Fart Police is just too big a hit. We got merchandising up the ass.  Ha!  The ass!  Fart police!  White that down!!!”

And then I’ll have to give up my life — my wife will divorce me and my kids will leave me — all so I have time to write the backstory for Commissioner Cut the Cheese.  …who turns out to be the villain in Fart Police 4: The Revenge of Inspector Incontinence.

And then along the way, I’ll have a few terrible moments where I’m actually proud of myself, like –

Josh: “See what I did there?  I made you think Inspector Incontinence was the bad guy with the misleading title, but actually he’s been working to build up the force with Captain Colonic Catastrophe.  …which leads up to a fun surprise in Fart Police 5.  ‘It’s gonna be a shitstorm.’  Ah?”

Then I’ll take a step back, like –

Josh: “What the fuck am I doing?  This isn’t what I wanted!”

Meanwhile, all these bloggers and critics will be writing all of this vitriol about me, like –

Blogger: “Fart Police?  More like Not-So-Smart Police.  Ah?  See what I did there?  I’m a critic and I’m clever ‘cause I employ puns.”

And then I’ll write these fucking Fart Police movies until I’m 65 years old, and I’ll retire a lonely old man and let someone else take over the Fart Police franchise; but then it’ll be really depressing because now I’m actually invested in the characters.  I’m watching the Fart Police movies I didn’t write, like –

Josh: “That’s not something Sergeant Stink Bomb would say.  The man has principles.” {then} “And why is Adam Sandler playing every character in this movie?”

Then I’ll be walking in a mall as an elderly man trying to get some exercise and I’ll pass a Toys ‘R Us and see shelves and shelves of Fart Police dolls where you pull their fingers and they pass gas, and I’ll yell to no one in particular –

Josh: “THIS is my legacy?!  I’m sorry, society.  I’m so sorry I made you worse!”

And then I’ll have a heart attack and die.  And, as all people do when they die, I’ll shit myself. And everyone around me will hear a fart.  And they’ll laugh.

* * *

And if I’m lucky, they’ll include me in the “In Memoriam” segment at the Oscar’s, but it’ll just show a photo that looks like I’m passing gas and it’ll say –

 JOSH LEHRMAN
That Fart Guy

I’m not voting for anyone who believes in God — not because I don’t (although I don’t) — but because I saw one of the candidates praying in front of a large group of people, saying –

Candidate: “Lord, you’re our only hope.”

Really?  He’s our only hope?  Then what’re you, Rick Perry?  You can’t do anything with the economy?  Social change?  If we need help, we have to turn to Him?  Well then I guess since you’re so ineffectual I’m writing in “Lord” on the ballot.

– I’m not the only person I know who’s like, “Oh, I’m a bad candidate for dating.”  Half of my friends and family feel the same way…about me.

– I mean, financially, I’m one step away from living on the street corner with a sign that says –

“WILL CRY FOR FOOD.”

Everyone passes by, like –

Girl: “Why would we feed him if he’s already doing it?”

(And by the way, when I say “one step away,” I mean “one step below.”)

– My self-esteem is so low, I can only get aroused if I’m not involved in my fantasies.  It’s like –

Josh: {eyes closed} “Well, hello, sassy schoolgirl with a skirt that’s clearly violating the dress code.  Why don’t you bend down and pick up that basketba — agh, DAMNIT, what am I doing in this scene?” {noticing} “Oh, and I lost my erection.”

– Also, I’m selfish in relationships.  I’m so selfish, I take condoms that are ribbed for her pleasure and turn them inside out.

– Really.  I look at myself objectively sometimes, and I’m like, “You want to bring another person into this disaster?”

– Thank God there’s no such thing as a relationship resume.  Mine’d be like –

Potential girlfriend: {examining it} “All right, I see most of your education has been through Internet videos.”
Josh: “It was very hands-on.”
Potential girlfriend: “Mm-hm.  Under favorite position, you said, ‘Passive.’”
Josh: “If that’s okay, yes.”
Potential girlfriend: “And your only reference is ‘Mommy.’  …who we called.  She said we could do better.”

– I’m a romantic, though.  If I were in a gangbang situation, I’d be the only guy making love.  Or the one bent over.

– When it comes to my dating failures, I blame my parents.  Because I grew up with a psychologically unbalanced mother, I’ve come to assume that all women are bipolar and wildly unstable.  Actually, that’s not far off.

– But I can definitely blame my dad.  The man only gave me one piece of relationship advice after my parents split up: “Don’t have children.”

– Still, I’m learning about women.  I’m learning that if a girl complains about men who just screw her and leave her with the line –

Girl: “All guys just wanna fuck me!”

– I shouldn’t comfort her by saying –

Josh: “I don’t want to fuck you.” {then} “Why are you crying?”

I’m learning that I shouldn’t say –

Josh: “You know, if you need anything — anything at all — I am always here…to refer you to a psychiatrist.” {then} “Why are you crying?”

And I’m learning that if I go on a date and the girl says –

Girl: “Oh, dessert.  I shouldn’t.”

– my response shouldn’t be –

Josh: “Right.”