Monthly Archives: February 2012

I love the coach’s motivational speech to his players — because I don’t even think he knows what he’s saying.  He’s running out of metaphors, like –

Coach: “All right.  So we’re all…” {looks around} “…floors…and we’re not gonna let people walk on us.” {looks around again} “Together, we make a…basket — see how it all sorta weaves together?  That’s…we’re like that.  And the…chairs, metaphorically, may be coming at us, but we gotta fight back with, um…cheerleaders.  So…YEAH!  LET’S DO IT!”

* * *

The halftime interviews are hilarious, too — because the questions are beyond pointless.

Interviewer: “Shaq!  Shaq!  Can you tell us what happened out there?”
Shaq: “This is a ball.  That’s the hoop.  We’re trying to get this in that.  Sometimes we miss.  Sometimes we don’t.”
Interviewer: “Do you have any specific strategy for the second half?”
Shaq: “When we’re on defense, I’ll play defense; when we’re on offense, I’ll play offense.  Otherwise, I’ll just try not to screw up.”

What possible insights are these interviewers expecting out of these players?

Interviewer: “Shaq!  Shaq!  Can you tell us what happened out there?”
Shaq: “Well, I underestimated the parabolic trajectory of the ball.  I might’ve made it had I taken into account all those physics equations I’ve been learning in night class.  You see, given the truncated amount of time we had, I needed to take distance into consideration — speed, after all, being distance over time.” {then} “Also, I did just switch from Lexapro to Prozac.”

There’s no point in asking.  They all come out of PR camps and give the same generic answers to everything –

Kobe Bryant: “When we work together as a team, we get it done.  We just kept on pushing…”
Interviewer: “Kobe, I understand you raped a girl.”
Kobe Bryant: {pause, then} “Um, well…when we work together as a team, we get it done.  We just kept on pushing…  Wait.”

* * *

And thank God for all of that commentary.

Announcer: “He’s coming up to the hoop.  He shoots.  He misses.”

Yes, we can all see that.  Nobody needs this level of hand-holding.

Announcer: “He has a ball.  He’s dribbling the ball.  Let me remind you that this is basketball.  The men in uniforms are called athletes.  You’re watching a game.  You’re alive right now.  This is called ‘viewing.’”

I live in L.A. now, but I hate when my friends come to visit and I feel that pressure to give them the tour — because I’m such a hermit, I never get out.  I’m showing them around, like –

Josh: “There’s the Kaiser Permanente I go to.  And there’s the corner where a homeless person threw up on his dog once.”
Friend: “What’s the best club in L.A.?”
Josh: “Oh, you probably want to go to the, uh, the one with all of the music…parties.” {then} “I have no friends in this city.”

Really, the only time I go out is to perform comedy, so I spend all of my free time at my computer, going –

Josh: {typing} “Okay.  What else do I hate?”

This’ll be my legacy.  When I die, people will just find these 500-page long word documents titled, “Things I Hate, Volume 90.”

I don’t understand why people take photographs anymore.  It’s just –

Friend: “Hey, Josh!  Good to see you, man.”
Josh: “Yeah, you, too.”
Friend: “Let’s get a picture.”
Josh: “Why?  To verify that you and I were together at 4:15 in the afternoon in front of a Trader Joe’s?  What do you want to remember about this?  That you and I both bought mangos?  That we’re both clearly unemployed?”

It’s inane.

My roommate actually took a picture of me typing once.  He put it on Facebook and wrote, “Someone needs to get out more,” …and then it was like –

“Josh’s Mom likes this.”

Please guys: I don’t need evidence that I’m a loser.

* * *

It’s not momentous, okay?  If you’re in front of the Great Wall of China, fine — but don’t take a picture if you’re in front of the Great Wall of Chinese Chicken at Panda Express.

And stop taking pictures of food.

Friend: “Look at this omelet I made!”

Just eat it!  Is that a highly valued memory to you?!  Are you gonna go through your photos as an old man like –

Old man: “Well, that was your mother and that was our old house where everyone grew up.  And hey, there’s a slice of banana cream pie!”

* * *

It’s weird to me because my family didn’t take photographs.  We took, like, one every Hanukkah…and even then my mom was like –

Susan: “Do we have to?  I don’t even like half of the people in this one.”
Josh: “Mom, it’s a photo of you and me.”
Susan: “I know.”

* * *

And if you’re posing, the photos look fake.  You don’t look back at them years later and say –

Person: “Oh, look at this.  Remember the time we were all standing still, looking directly at a single focal point, and smiling wider than we do on a normal basis?  Good thing I got that precious memory on film.”

My aunt always did that.  She’d be like –

Aunt: “Okay, you stand there, you put your arm around his shoulder, and you pretend to eat the dog.”
Josh: “Norma, that doesn’t make any –”
Norma: {takes a photo}

That’s my entire photo album: everybody looks like a manikin and I’m just –

Josh: {makes a gesture like, “What the hell is going on?”}

By the way, my aunt did the same thing when we went to the zoo.  She was like –

Norma: “Gorillas.  Hey gorillas.  Look over here and pose.”
Josh: “Uh, Norma, make sure you’re not pointing the camera at that black couple.”
Norma: “C’mon gorillas.”

Like the gorillas were gonna go –

Gorilla father: “Hey Candice.  Candice!  Goddamnit, get the kids over here.  Another white woman is trying to take a picture of us.  I know this feels a little unnatural, but let’s get our arms around each other and pose.” {to his son} “…and you pretend to eat your sister.”
Gorilla son: {makes a gesture like, “What the hell is going on?”} “What?”
Norma: {takes a photo}

* * *

Another reason I hate photographs is that they make me sad — and I don’t even know why, since most of the time, not much in my life has changed since the picture.

Oh.  I guess that’s why.

That’s why I propose we take unhappy pictures.  I know that sounds insane, but think about it: we won’t idealize the past and it’ll make the present look like a huge improvement.  Go through an album like –

Josh: “Look at me fighting with my ex-girlfriend.  Glad to be single again.” {then} “Oh, and here I’m crying at my job.  Feels good to be unemployed.” {then} “And here’s me getting oral surgery.  Thank god I don’t have health insurance anymore.”

Hell, if you need to, take your wedding photos in a fat suit.  You’ll look back years later and think to yourself, “Heeeey, I’m doing all right.”

I hate public transportation — but for different reasons than everybody else.  I mean, so what if the screeching of the bus’s tires is louder than all of my angry ex-girlfriends?  So what if the guy next to me is throwing up into a trash bag?  And then using that trash bag as clothing?  So what if the man in the back is some schizophrenic talking to himself and waving his unwashed genitals at me, yelling, “What do you mean, there are no bones in ice cream?!”

I can handle that.

But if I get on a bus, for instance, here’s the deal: elevator rules apply.  And there are really only three:

(1) Don’t talk,
(2) Don’t make eye contact, and
(3) Don’t…talk – that’s really the main one.

Inevitably, though, some guy will sit next to me, boxing me into the window seat and start an awkward conversation, like –

Guy: {exhales} “Ah…it’s good to be out.”
Josh: “Yeah, it’s a nice day.”
Guy: “…of prison.”

{Josh stares at him for a long beat, the pulls on the cord — DING DING DING DING!!!}

…and then, you know, it’s awkward if I don’t ask, so…

Josh: “What were you in there for?”
Guy: “Attempted rape and murder.  You must think I’m pretty low-down, huh?”
Josh: “Nah, man.  We all have problems with follow-through.”
Guy: “Sometimes, though, I still have this urge to just…choke a bitch, you know?”
Josh: “Did you also work as an unpaid intern in the film industry?”

* * *

Still, it’s better than, say, getting on an airplane.  At least you can get off of a bus quickly.  I feel like every time I fly, there’s some guy sitting next to me asking –

Guy: “Hey, is leprosy contagious?”

{Josh stares at him for a long beat, then looks for the cord to pull.}

Josh: “Ding ding ding ding!!!”

One time I got on an airplane and immediately put on my headset.  The dude next to me yelled –

Dude: “Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?  Not gonna talk to me at all?”
Josh: {removing headphones} “What?  No, I can talk.  What do you want to talk about?”
Dude: “No.  It’s cool, bro.  Just put your little headphones back on.  Dick.”
Josh: “How long is this flight?  15 hours?”

– I think society is getting stupider, and my friends say I’m right – ‘cause “stupider” is not a word.

– “Would you rather be blind, deaf, or Armenian?” is a bad first date question — especially when your date is Armenian.

– Every time I see an artsy movie like Drive, I imagine a film student pitching his soon-to-be disastrous thesis as “Nicolas Winding Refn meets Wes Anderson — with vampires.”

– There was video on cnn.com about the tsunami in Japan.  Somebody “liked” it.  What the hell does that mean?  Did they like the content, the cinematography, or the fact that a bunch of Japanese people got killed?

– My mom told me to go see that movie The Back-Up Plan.  I called her afterwards, like, “Well, it was a little contrived, I wish it were a little funnier, and the acting was kind of so-so, but other than that?  I hated it.”

– I can never understand people who work at the Chipotle by my apartment.  They always go, “Blah, blah, blah…” and I just say, “Uh, okay,” and then they urinate on my burrito.

– “Psycho” and “psychic” are pretty similar words.  Coincidence?  …no, I guess they both have the same root, don’t they?

– I decided recently that I never want to travel back in time…because I might realize these were the good years.

– I’m trying to resurrect some old stand-up bits, but doing comedy in the past tense is hard.  It’s like, “Hey, here are some things I…used to be irritated about.”

– Life is sort of like building a pyramid.  You’re so immersed in the next block you’re laying that you don’t see the entirety of the structure.  It’s only when you step back that you realize…it’s a pyramid of diapers at Costco and you need a new job.

I’ve written a lot of scripts that will never go anywhere, so right now, I’d like to say goodbye to some of the characters I’ve lost over the years…

(1) The androgynous spy who goes undercover as the opposite sex, then reveals his true identity at the end…and no one can tell the difference.

Character: {removing his mask} “I was a man all along!”
Everyone else: “Really?” {looks harder} “No, I still don’t see it.”

(2) The horror film director who faints at the sight of blood.

Filmmaker: “Yeah, more intestines…more, uh…” {getting queasy} “More, uh…oh my God.”

(3) The old man who uses old age to his advantage.

Old man: “Oh, I’d help you move into your new apartment, but I’d probably die!!!”

(4) The character that explains the already obvious jokes.

Mae West: {rubbing up against a man’s pants} “Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
Character: {yelling} “She’s referring to your erection!”

(5) The character that makes everyone uncomfortable.

Character: {re: scratching his belly} “Isn’t it weird when you notice yourself doing things your dad used to do?  Like scratch your belly or wiggle your nose?”
Uncomfortable guy: “Or abandon your kids.”
{Silence.}

(6) The character that keeps mentioning his sexual experience at inappropriate times.

Boss: “Williams, did we get the numbers on the Michelson account yet?”
Assistant: {proudly} “Umm…no, and I’m a virgin.”

(7) The surgeon with Parkinson’s.

Surgeon with Parkinson’s: {hands shaking} “Scalpel.”

(8) The young kid who keeps telling everyone he is “too sexy” to take part in certain activities.

Friend: “Hey Mike, you wanna go to the movies?”
Mike: “No thanks; I’m too sexy for the movies.”

(9) The character who obviously exaggerates stories from his life.

Exaggerating guy: “…and then I said, “‘You can go stick it up you ass, boss!’”
Friend: “You didn’t say that.”
Exaggerating guy: “More or less.”

(Based on nearly every man I know.)

(10) The unaware gay guy.

Gay guy: “Wanna go for a ride?”
Unaware gay guy: “Sure, I could use a ride to Pasadena!”
Gay guy: “Maybe I can bring you back to your place and see your hard wood.”
Unaware gay guy: “As long as you like mahogany.”
Gay guy: “And then I can put my lips on your dick and give you a blow job.”
Unaware gay guy: “Well if that’s your phrase for ‘watch a movie,’ I’m in!”

(He also thinks Grindr is about coffee.)

People on these political shows used to be experts.  “Middle East expert,” “Terrorist expert.”  Then all of a sudden it was “strategist.”  Now it’s all the way down to “analyst.”  What’s next, “guesser?”  “Political coin flipper?”

Seriously, it’s gonna be like –

Host: “Welcome to the program Phil, a guy who read the newspaper this morning.”
Phil: “Skimmed it, but uh… good to be here.”