Thursday, September 16, 2004

Yeah, Eat Doritos!

“We’re a virus with shoes.”
—Bill Hicks

Well, Nosedive’s getting ready for our fundraising party/comedy show, “Nosedive’s Pottymouth Social” to a.) help raise money for our five-year anniversary as a company, and b.) have a reason to drink till we can’t feel feelings no more. The details are all over the site here, but I guess they bear repeating:

An Evening of Highbrow Toilet Humour

Saturday, September 25
at the Emerging Artist’s Theatre
432 West 42nd Street (between 9th & 10th), 4th floor

Music. Comedy. Food. Drink. Ambiance.

$20, Doors open at 11:15, show starts around 11:30

Seriously, folks. These things are damn fun and funny. And where else in New York can you spend $20 and have more or less unlimited beer?

Nowhere but Nosedive. Thaaaat’s right.


If any of you haven’t checked out Philucifer’s recent blog entry on the realm of magic, you should. I finally get why he’s such a dick to me about the subject.

Some selected conversations include:

ME: So, I’m really interested in pursuing magical realms. I think it’s time to pry open my third eye and figure out exactly what I’m getting out of life if I’m already pursuing avenues that provide me with neither money nor college girls. But still, I realize that both having money and college girls will not fulfill me intellectually or spiritually. I mean, they will for a short period of time but there really is something to be said about seeing friends who have completed their goals of financial independence and seem more dead inside than before. (Read: stop bogarting the bowl.)

PHILUCIFER: Good for you. (Silence.)


ME: I think I’m ready to test the boundaries of my imagination. I owe it to myself and to my writing to not get caught up in talking to depressed and depressing theatre people who would rather talk about dwindling audiences and subsidized grants than the actual magical nature of a theatrical experience. How’s it going for you? (Read: Do you have any advice?)

PHILUCIFER: Good. (Silence.)


ME: Can you pass the bowl? (Read: I feel my soul rotting slowly and steadily day by day yet I can’t help but continue playing this silly charade and pretending that we’re not “drowning in a cesspool of imbeciles” as Harlan Ellison once said and realizing that newspeak has robbed our civilization of any imagination or relevant discourse since whether George W. Bush served in the military or not or whether he drank in his youth or not or whether he is a steadfast character or not is completely irrelevant because when push comes to shove as an administrator virtually every decision he’s made in office is bad and I’m having a tough time integrating myself in a world that’s dismantling civil liberties to make the planet a universal nursery in where you only need the mind of a sixth-grader to function and actually succeed so can you please pass the bowl?)

PHILUCIFER: Good luck with that. (Silence.)

Okay, so maybe they’re not really like that. I like hyperbole. (Read: Just kidding, Patrick! But seriously, pass the bowl.)

George Carlin has said, “Keep your religion to yourself,” which is pretty crunkin’ good advice.

Of course, since I live for making people feel uncomfortable (more in person than with my plays), I tell everyone and anyone I can that I’ve had visions. Of them. Coming home with me.

Seriously, baby, Jesus told me it is on.

Immune to pepper spray,

James “Don Juan Messiah” Comtois

September 16, 2004


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