What all this number shit means for you, is that I’ll probably be able to do another one as soon as I have enough new material.
I couldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you people out there that enjoy my stuff, and I just want to let you all know that I appreciate it very much.
One of the things that I truly take pride in is that whenever I’m at a club the wait staff always tell me how cool my audiences are.
I have no idea how I pulled this off, but all over the country clubs consistently tell me that you people that come to see me are some of the most generous and friendly audiences that they ever see.
I have no idea how this happened, and I’m in no way taking any kind of credit for it, but I appreciate the fuck out of it.  I try to be as friendly and generous as I can, and when I hear that you guys are like that too it really means the fucking world to me.

I’m off to the Addison, Texas Improv this weekend with none other than Ari Shaffir and Joey Diaz.  If you enjoyed the comedy special, I’ve got a ton of material that wasn’t on that, as well as the real uncensored versions of the stuff they aired on Spike.
What’s really funny about the censored vs uncensored versions of my comedy special, was that the deal was when they were air it before 1am it would be censored, but after 1am it would be uncensored except for the word “faggot,” which in this goofy, politically correct, finger-pointing country we operate in has become the newest forbidden word.
Forget about context, that word is so evil it cannot even be uttered.  I don’t even use it to describe humans; I use it for a dog and some ants, but we’re being told that this is a word so heinous that context doesn’t matter.  It is FORBIDDEN!

Well, Saturday night rolls around, and they beeped just about every possible offending word including “dick” and “shit” but left in the 2 uses of “faggot.”  It was literally the only dirty word that made it though the censorship net at all, and it was the one that they said they wanted censored even from the uncut late night version.
Doh!
Go figure.  I don’t know how it happened, I just show up and do my act, but I thought that it was fucking hilarious that it didn’t get beeped.

I really wonder when as a culture we’re going to realize that words represent ideas, and that there are no “magic” words, and to give any word such a forbidden status just makes it all the more powerful when someone uses it.  It’s not like you’re ever going to stop people from saying “faggot,” you’re just going to make it have even more impact when it is used, especially when you try to say that any use of it at all, even in jest is unacceptably offensive.
What are even fucking crazier, are the people that say that it’s ok for gay guys to say it, but no one else – that it’s like black people and the word “nigger.”  I actually had a gay guy try to tell me that recently.  He said, “It’s our ‘nigger.’”  I told him that was probably the gayest thing I’ve ever heard him say, and that he could go fuck himself.

I’m not buying it.  Having one ridiculous, magic, forbidden word in our culture like “nigger” is bad enough, but to try to push for “faggot” to become the gay version of that at this late in the game is just fucking silly.
Celebrity gossip blogger “Perez Hilton” recently called Will.I.am from the black eye peas a faggot, and someone sucker punched him in the head for his indiscretion.  Apparently even if you’re gay yourself you can push some serious buttons with the use of this word!
The most disturbing thing about that whole event was the video that Perez put out giving his side of the story.  I DARE you to try to watch the whole thing.  It’s like waterboarding for your eyes and ears.  I made it through the first few minutes, but the reality overwhelmed me.  Seeing this yelling, spitting, gelatinous mass of a drama queen give his side of the story just forced me to think of what it must be like to actually be that guy, and I just couldn’t fucking take it.  I bailed at around 3 minutes.  I blame the weed.

Can’t we all just get along?

For the record, I think any kind of bigotry is contrary to, and in direct opposition of everything that is cool about people.  Love, friendship, art – bigotry is a toxin in all of those areas.  Nobody should give a fuck about whether you’re gay or straight, black or white.  I think the rational amongst us can all agree that humans should be judged on their own individual merit, not pre-judged into a group because it’s easier and requires less effort and thinking, and hating someone for being gay or for being anything else that doesn’t affect you is a horrible error in thinking.

That said… when someone sees you acting like a faggot, they should be able to call you on it.  It has absolutely nothing to do with being gay, and the straightest man in the entire world could have made that video and said those exact words in the manliest voice ever known, and it would still be an inarguable display of absolute faggotry.

Now, I’m sure a lot of you at this point are probably thinking, “Joe, what the fuck?  You’re really going on this much about Perez Hilton?  Not Iran, not, insane science experiments going on like the Jet Fusion research project – no, you wanna go on forever about celebrity bloggers getting hit with weak sucker punches?  Really?”
You’re right, and again… I blame the weed.
My point isn’t to hate on this Perez Hilton fellow, and I certainly don’t think he deserved to get hit.  He’s certainly not physically threatening, nor was he pretending to be, so going after him would in no way be a defensive thing.  It was an assault, and really kind of a bitch move.  But guess what?  That’s exactly what happens when you tell a black dude in a band, “You’re not a fucking artist, you’re a fucking faggot!”  It might not be right, but it’s probably gonna get you smacked.

You gotta give the li’l guy credit though, he got right up in dude’s face and said it with confidence.   That’s a strong line for a gelatinous, über-gay blogger to be using on a black guy in a band.  He even pissed off GLAAD.
I wonder if he uses that line all the time – like maybe it was his “go to” line whenever anyone started shit talking.

Like if he was at a restaurant complaining, “I would like to talk to your manager.”
“I AM the manager.”
“You’re not the fucking manager, you’re a fucking faggot!”
BAM!  Right in your FUCKING FACE!
When a guy THAT gay calls you a faggot, it definitely has some extra pop to it.
If you were really insecure and at a bad point in your life and he hit you with that, you might even consider it.  “Is he right?”  For a moment you will be weak, and that moment of weakness is when he’ll strike.  He will leap forth like a gay vampire, and as he sinks his gay fangs into your neck he is simultaneously marking you with the sweet, rotting scent of his acne puss as the zits on his face erupt against the stubble on your cheek.
You will be turned.

What the fuck am I talking about?  Exactly.  I was just asking myself the same thing.
Sorry.  I think I’ve been reading too much Stephen King lately, and again… I blame the weed.

So, in closing, my message in this blog is, thank you very much to all my fans, I’ll be at the Addison, Texas improv this Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and please, for the sake of all that’s good in the world, don’t be a faggot.

This was my 40th birthday cake given to me by my dear friends, just to let you know that faggot can also be a term of endearment.

Check your local listings, but the comedy special is set to air at midnight, right after the finals of the Ultimate Fighter.  If you just happen to be in Vegas tonight, I’m having a party at Tao nightclub to celebrate the premiere of the comedy special, so come on out and have a drink and get festive with the crew!

I hope you enjoy the clips!

Talking Monkeys in Space: Pot

Click here to view the embedded video.

Talking Monkeys in Space: Evolution

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Talking Monkeys in Space: Tiger Attack

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Talking Monkeys in Space: Dr. Phil

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Now, if you’ve only read my blogs and have never visited the forums it’s a pretty cool and unusual place. There’s over 2,000,000 posts there, and anytime ANYTHING fucked up or interesting is happening on the internet I can guarantee you’re going to find it on that board. It’s a very eclectic group of people discussing everything from democracy, to animal attacks, to conspiracy theories, to scientific discoveries, to shit eating porn.

It’s all in there. It’s a very addictive place to visit. Lots of really, intelligent, funny people post there, along of course with the usual gangs of douche bags that any anonymous internet forum attracts.
The way we have it set up on the forums is that I didn’t want to censor anyone, but a few annoying individuals can really ruin the atmosphere of a message board. Instead of banning them, we decided to create a sub forum for people with behavior problems called “Special Ed.” In there the posters banished to the sub forum get pink names and are only allowed to post there.
Regular posters can choose to post in either forum. It’s a nice way of avoiding censorship while still weeding out the douchey-ness.

There’s some truly epic threads on the forum, one of the greatest being “pic of the day.” It’s a thread where people post any fucked up or cool image that they find on the internet. There’s thousands of insane, beautiful and horrendous pictures in there. The only rule is don’t post anything that’s illegal, and don’t be an asshole. So please sign up, and please feel free to post on the board and for the folks that were already registered to post in the older blog here please re-register so that you can continue to post comments here. I really, really appreciate them, and I really appreciate all the feedback that I get from writing this blog. I’m glad some of you enjoy it, and that certainly motivates me to keep writing more new shit for you guys.
I’m working on one about my trip to Germany, and I hope to have it done either tonight or maybe tomorrow.

Also, if you’re going to be in Vegas this weekend, I’m hosting a party at Tao Nightclub at the Venetian Hotel to celebrate my comedy special premiering on Spike TV this Saturday night. Joey Diaz and Ari Shaffir will be joining me, so if you’re going to be out there come on out and join in the fun. We’ll take lots of pictures, and if you’re lucky Joey will show you his balls.

I ran into a fellow stand up comic at the airport yesterday, and he was there with his wife and his baby boy. Ever since my daughter was born I have acquired this immense fascination with babies. I see them everywhere, and I can’t take my eyes off them. I spot them all over the place, and occasionally these babies will be with a full grown human that I already know. That’s what happened yesterday at LAX.
I looked up and saw this cute little baby being held by one of the Sklar brothers, an LA comedy team of twins.
I wasn’t sure which twin it was, but they’re both really nice guys, so I’m equally happy to see either one.

“You made a person?”

“I made a person.”

“Wow. That’s awesome man, congrats. I made one too.”

And just like that, we were “those guys.”
We were the kind of men that I used to see in my younger days and shake my head in confusion. Two flowery, baby-loving weirdoes – wild eyed and intoxicated, tripping on the true opiate of the masses.

His wife came over and the baby love-talk escalated to the point where I started to feel light-headed. The three of us just sat there and expressed our new parent delight with each other in the presence of their beautiful, 6 month old boy like a trio of junkies waxing poetically on hitting the thickest vein with the sweetest smack.

Making a human is a truly surreal experience. It’s so titanically bizarre that I always compare it to a psychedelic trip, in that if it hasn’t happened to you there’s almost no way that I can accurately express to you what it’s like. You just have to experience it.

I used to dismiss a lot of experiences that I hadn’t had yet, simply because it’s easier to do than consider them or actually go out and have them. The world was confusing enough to me when I was a young man, and the last thing I thought I wanted back then was to have my ego obliterated by some monumentally humbling experience. Back then I just wanted to feel secure and get my life in order. I didn’t need more questions, I just needed a life.

Once I felt like I had some semblance of a life, then I started asking questions, and from there the true nature of this life began to slowly unfold. One of the craziest things that I’ve learned from any enlightening experience, it’s that every time I learn something new whatever knowledge I gain from it brings with it many, many times more new questions.

I remember my first mushroom trip. I was somewhere around 30 years old. I tried as much as I could to be a good person back then, but I was (and still am) very much a work in progress. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of life other than to be happy, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to pull that off. I found a tremendous amount of people to be annoying, and I had to do my best to calm my natural tendency to be hyper-aggressive. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve always strived to be a good person and do the right thing in my life, but occasionally I struggled with douchy-ness.

Enter, my friend the magic mushroom.
They don’t taste like much. They’re almost like a slightly more boring version of some kind of hippie vegan rice cake snack that you might get at a local health food store. I bet if you could add some sort of a spicy, salty seasoning to them they could be even be quite tasty. You don’t do it, though.
Why? Because for some reason it just doesn’t seem right. It seems insulting.

Some people do change the flavor of it, and I’m pretty sure they still get there, but the way I’ve always looked at it is that if you’re really having that much of a problem with the taste, then you’ve either got some really weird taste buds, or you’re a whiny bitch that has a shitty attitude, and you’ll complain about just about anything, and that’s a terrible attitude to have going into a trip.

People on fear factor ate rotten animal dicks for a chance at $50,000 dollars and you’re telling me you have a problem eating bland fungus for a chance at contacting god?

Wait… Contacting who?

Now, if my young self had ever heard my current self saying something this crazy, I would have thought that I was a fucking crackpot, and I would have probably immediately dismissed me. I was far more convinced that I had the answers that I needed from life back then than I am now, and anything that challenged that perception was just labeled “bullshit” for my own protection.

I’ve had many intense psychedelic experiences, and one of the most profound effects of these trips isn’t just that the world feels strange when you’re on them, but that the world is forever changed once you’re back. Once the genie is out of the bottle it’s impossible to forget.

Mushrooms were the first real psychedelics that I tried, so I really had no idea what to expect. I heard that you “hallucinate” on them, so I expected to see a bunch of shit that wasn’t there. What actually happened was far stranger than that.

I didn’t see anything that wasn’t there, but I did see the things that have always been there in a totally different way. The first thing I noticed after I started to feel “funny” was that there seemed to be an underlying geometric pattern to everything that I could never see before. It was almost like I had put on some goggles that allowed me to see secret connections that everything shared.

Everything seemed to be made of these patterns, and despite the solid nature of the world I was looking at, it almost felt like what I was seeing was that everything that seemed separate was actually just one huge, all encompassing thing expressing itself in different frequencies.

As the trip got deeper the natural world around me seemed to be made out of thoughts, and as the effects of the mushrooms made these thoughts stranger and stranger, the world itself seemed to merge with these thoughts and become indistinguishable.

The hills were breathing. I watched them pulsate in and out in fascination, until I realized that it was my own breath that was making this happen. It was like I was now looking at the world as it was being projected onto a very thin screen, and every time I breathed it was teasing me with what was behind the screen like a hot chick wearing see-through lingerie.

By this time I was psychically naked for the first time in my life. I realized how much of what I thought of as “me” was just psychic armor that I had applied long ago and forgotten about. Social status, accumulated material possessions, accomplishments, friendships and feuds alike – all stripped away to reveal a core; a core with no language, no culture, and no fear.
Then this core was shown the true nature of this world, and I watched things that I always thought of as “normal” as if I was a visiting alien from another galaxy.

All the predetermined patterns of behavior that we follow were all revealed like tracks on a grid, and the more we follow these tracks the less we have to think. The tracks can be completely bizarre, but as long as they’re there even the most unlikely of patterns will be followed.
African women will cut their lips and stretch them out to fit plates. American men will wrap a traditional cloth around their neck and hang it in front of their chest in order to be taken seriously in a business meeting. It was all the same thing manifesting itself in different actions.

I saw the whole world like I would see it if I was an alien. Eventually I came back, and the world stopped breathing, and the mushrooms stopped talking to me – but I don’t think I’ve ever looked at anything the same way since.

I’ve always said that if we were seeing our world not even as an alien, but just from the perspective of people living a few hundred years ago it would seem almost impossibly bizarre. I have this routine that I follow where I hire a car to take me to the airport, and while he’s driving I sit in the back seat and get on the internet on my laptop.
Seems pretty normal and straight forward to most folks.

Now if you really think about it, just 400 years ago this “normal” routine that I have would have been the stuff of the strangest fiction.
I’m moving faster than a sprinting horse inside a big metal box that’s powered by tiny controlled explosions and we’re rolling over a hard, man made surface that’s interconnected throughout the entire continent. I’m typing away on a machine that is interfaced with the entire world through some invisible signal that almost instantly connects me to the entire current sum of accumulated human knowledge, and while all this crazy shit is happening, I’ll occasionally pull out something smaller than my hand, and I’ll use it to talk to people that are on the other side of the fucking world.

I will eventually get to a giant group of buildings where I will be scanned for explosives. I’ll then be strapped into a metal tube that’s also powered by explosions, and along with hundreds of other people I’ll be hurled through the sky so high that you can see the curve of the earth, and so fast that you literally go forward in time for the slightest fraction of a second.

What…
The…
Fuck.

To pay for all of this I don’t give them gold coins, or a goat, or even let them fuck me. All I have to do is let them hold on to a small card that I have, and then I’ll scribble something that’s supposed to represent “me” on a piece of paper. This stands as an agreement that I am willing to pay in the future for this experience, and I will use this strange method to aquire everything in my life.

At the end of each 30 days I will pay for the total that I owe by, wait for it… writing on a piece of paper. Most of my bills are paid online now, so in that case I’m not even writing anything. I’m just pressing on little buttons, and those little button presses support me and fortify my life.

That’s our everyday life, and if you lived 500 years ago and explained that this is what the future would be like there would be a very good chance that a group of people would burn you at the stake.

I’m sitting in a hotel room in Nashville right now finishing this up. I will copy and paste it into a location that my web browser is pointed to, and it will be read by thousands of people almost immediately. I’ll then head out to a club in town where people have agreed to come and listen to me make noises with my mouth that represent the focused thoughts bouncing around in my mind.
These thoughts will make people think, and by laughing at them, they will actually make people feel better.

I will never say that I truly understand this world, because the more I learn about it the more I feel that’s actually impossible.
What I can say though, is that as strange as it is, I appreciate every bizarre moment of it. I appreciate the freedom to think this way, and I appreciate the patience and attention of all you people reading and considering all this crazy shit.

It would be a lot easier to understand what the fuck I’m talking about if you did some mushrooms. Or had a baby. Either one, really.

Mad love to you all.

It’s started a tremendous debate on my messageboard, and from that debate we have acquired support from fanny pack wearing bad asses all over the planet, including Chuck Motherfucking Norris, Hulk Motherfucking Hogan, and of course the great Anderson Silva, the #1 pound for pound fighter on the planet.

I’ve got other examples of fanny pack wearing bad-assery as well for all you haters, so you can just go suck it! The fanny pack is making a comeback!

If you’re in the Nashville area this weekend and you want to show support for the wearing of fanny packs, or you just want to see some wholesome, homegrown American stand up comedy, I’ll be at Zanie’s in Nashville tonight, Friday, June 5th for two shows and tomorrow, Saturday, June 6th for two more.

If you show up wearing a fanny pack I’ll buy you a beer and film you for the internet!
We can win this fashion war, people. But we’ve got to stick together.
See you bitches in Nashville!!

It turned out that I had to get a root canal, and the next day I was getting a hole drilled into the problem in my head. The dentist drilled away until he broke through to the pocket, and the most putrid fucking smell came out of it. Like rotten eggs and sulfur. Then it really sunk in – that shit was in my fucking head! A rotten hole in the bone in my fucking head.
Yikes.
Now I’m on antibiotics, and I’ve got a new found respect for how important dental hygiene is. My whole system was thrown off by this, and didn’t realize how much so until I got it cleared up. I feel like a new man now.

It really made me stop and think how fucking lucky we are to have modern medicine. If it wasn’t for doctors my physical life would be total shit. I’ve had 3 knee surgeries, including 2 ACL reconstructions. Amazingly enough, they don’t bother me at all now. The left one had some meniscus taken out, and sometimes it gets a little sore, but nothing worth complaining about, but my right one feels fantastic. Just a hundred years ago these injuries would have left me a hobbled mess.

A hundred years ago the hole in my head would have probably never been diagnosed since x-rays weren’t around, so I probably would have continued to suffer until the tooth just rotted out of my head and left me all fucked up and infected. It might have even caused a heart attack and killed me.
Pretty fucking nuts when you think of how recently a hundred years ago is in the greater spectrum of the earth’s time line.

I’ve decided to take care of another problem that’s been bothering me forever, so next month I’m going to get my nose fixed.
Not the way it looks, but the way it works. My nose has been almost useless to breathe out of most of my life. I fell down a flight of stairs and crushed it when I was 5, and after that years of kickboxing and jiu jitsu have left the inside of it filled with broken cartilage and scar tissue that almost completely blocks air from coming in that way.
Whenever I take a yoga class they’re always getting on me to breathe in through my nose and out through the mouth, but my shit just doesn’t work correctly.

I’m a mouth breather.
Literally.

I’ve been wanting to get it fixed forever, but I’ve never been able to set aside the time for recovery. When you get something like this done, you can’t work out at all for 2 weeks, and then after that there’s absolutely no contact for 4 weeks, so in my mind that means that I’m going to get horribly out of shape and get my ass kicked in jiu jitsu when I get back, and that never seemed that appealing. It’s really one of those things where I have to just bite the bullet and take the 6 weeks off and just get the damn thing fixed already.

Getting things taken care of feels great.
Just getting the tooth taken care of not only makes me feel better physically, but it’s also one more thing I don’t have to think about. The less bullshit I’ve got rolling around in my head the better, and over the last couple years I’ve gotten really good at clearing things up and getting rid of problems in my life. Peace of mind is really a fucking incredibly underrated commodity, and as I’ve gotten older and wiser that’s one of the more important lessons that I’ve learned.

Physical health is another thing that simply can’t be emphasized enough. Usually it takes me getting sick until I’ve really got that fact drilled in my head to the point where I can truly appreciate it, but over the last couple years I’ve been really diligent about reminding myself of how important it is while I’m still healthy.
I realize at the end of this blog entry that it’s not even remotely entertaining, but I still think it’s worth posting.
Take care of your body, party people.
That’s my message of the day.

I promise the next blog entry won’t be so serious and dry. Other than my stinky hole in my head and impending nasal surgery, everything else is damn groovy.
I had a fantastic time at the House of Blues in Vegas Friday night, and the UFC fights Saturday were off the charts.

One thing I did differently for the House of Blues show was that I made it a sitting only show. In the past there would be a lot of people seated, but then there would be a few hundred more standing over by the bars.
That always led to people talking and generally made the mood of the show more like a rowdy bar gig and less like an entertaining comedy show. I never even thought about doing anything about it until I went to see my buddy Doug Stanhope perform a couple weeks ago in LA. He did a gig at a bar here, and it was standing room only.
I’ve done plenty of standing room only shows, but that was the first one that I’ve ever seen as an audience member, and it was pretty uncomfortable.
Standing up and performing for an hour and a half is one thing, but watching a show while standing up kinda sucks. After a while my back was bothering me, and I wanted to stretch out. Doug was hilarious, but I was actually relieved that it was over. I learned a lot from that, and from now on whenever possible I’m going to have sitting only shows.

I know they turned a lot of people away Friday night at the House of Blues because of this decision since it meant they couldn’t sell as many tickets, but I guarantee it was a much better show for the folks that went. It was better for us too. I had a great fucking time, and there wasn’t nearly as much drunken heckling. I’m sorry for the folks that didn’t get tickets in time, but that just means you gotta be on the ball and hop on that shit early!
Join my mailing list to stay up on all my future gigs.

This weekend I’ll be in San Jose at the Improv with Ari Shaffir and Tom Segura. It should be a fucking bang up weekend, so hop on the tickets early so you don’t get left out of the party.
See you bitches then…

I’m in my office packing up my shit (last minute of course) and getting ready to head out the door to do the Improv in Tempe, AZ.
I’m really looking forward to this weekend, as it’ll be a “Full Deathsquad” event with Ari Shaffir, and Joey Diaz.
I’m working on a ton of new material too, as my Spike TV special is going to air June 20th and I’ll have to have a whole lotta new shit after that.
Crunch time, and I love it! Tempe is always an awesome spot to perform. It’s a great club, and I filmed my 2005 showtime special there.
Come on down and join the fun!

Thursday 8pm
Friday and Saturday 8pm and 10pm

Joe
http://www.symfonee.com/Improv/tempe/home/Index.aspx
The Tempe Improv
930 East University Drive, Tempe, AZ 85281 USA
(480) 921-9877

I can’t fucking wait for this thing to air!!

I’m headed to the Improv in Hollywood tonight for a late night set to loosen up for this weekend at the Improv in Tempe. It’s going to be another epic weekend, bitches!

The full crew is headed to Phoenix, Arizona Thursday, Friday and Saturday to perform at the Tempe, Improv. It’s one of my favorite stops in the country, and the place where I recorded my 2005 Showtime special. I’ll be slinging a bunch of new shit your way getting ready for my Spike TV special to come out June 20th.
I’m really kicking my stand up into high gear these days, and I’m really looking forward to laying it down for my friends in the desert. We’re going to film a lot of short clips for the internet while we’re there, and we’re probably going to do some webcasting from the hotel room. Stay tuned to here and my twitter page for more details!

I’ve done many dork-worthy things in my day, like for instance I was once in an online “Quake” clan where we would not only play online, but we would meet up from all around the country, hook all of our computers up and play each other in the same room and still refer to each other as our online screen names.
For real. That shit’s pretty fucking dorky.
If you were in denial I guess you could try to argue about video game addicts being dorks. You could point out how cool the games look, or how exciting they are to play, but the bottom line is that if you’re holed up in a room with a bunch of other dudes holding in a wicked mountain dew piss and screaming out in excitement because “CraZe” just gunned down “ReSDog” you’re a fucking dork.
It ain’t a bad thing, but it is what it is.

This Renaissance fair shit however, makes THAT kind of dorky just step aside and bow down with amazement. It’s so ridiculous that it’s absolutely magnificent.
It is a public orgy of group fantasy. A strange, and seemingly unlikely event where thousands of people agreed to gather together to play make-believe for weeks at a time. And they all even agreed on the time period.

Logically, it doesn’t seem like something that would catch on, but it sure as fuck did, and from the looks of it, most of the freaks there were having a pretty good god damned time. I watched as people in their fifties got out of their cars dressed up like Elizabethan nobles with huge smiles on their faces and a spring in their step as they quickly headed towards the gate, eager to join the gang bang.
I was thinking, “when the fuck do these people ever get this excited about anything other than this?”

Now, the whole Renaissance fair thing seems like a funny subject for a scene in a movie, but there’s virtually no way that can compare to the actual real thing happening right before your eyes – especially when you’re higher than Tommy Chong on the moon. Now, I knew that a lot of people there would probably be talking and acting like they’re from the time period, but the sheer number of participants was just overwhelming. There were thousands of people there, and at least 50% of them were dressed up and in character.

“My lord, doth thou not enjoy this fine day of song and drink? Let us raise our goblets and toast to another day thou art above ground! Huzzah!!”
He raised his silver goblet, and I touched it with my diet pepsi. You go, boy.
I ain’t hatin’.

It’s kind of weird to me how one period in time got the Lion’s share of all the fairs.
There’s no cavemen fairs, or Dynastic Egypt fairs but there’s a hundred and fucking eighty Renaissance fairs in this country alone. That’s pretty crazy considering that the history behind this shit occurred overseas. If they have 180 of these things here, how many of them do they have in England? It must be borderline obscene.

I watched these people move from group to group, going up to each other and exchanging in-character greetings. They even played out these little improvised scenes where some pretended to be kings while others were wenches and servants and what have you. They weren’t doing it for an audience either. They were doing it for themselves. They were just getting off on pretending.

I stopped and thought about it, and although I have absolutely nothing against these nice folks, I do think that participation in these fairs should limit your employment possibilities. Like for instance; you can’t be a Renaissance fair enthusiast and also be the vice president of the United States.
Not that you have to be perfect to be the VP – clearly you don’t, but we’ll only allow so many personal flaws. You can be addicted to golf, or have a reputation as an adulterer, or have been a problem drinker in the past, but you can’t be in a parking lot in Temecula dressed up like King Arthur yelling out orders with a turkey leg in your hand. That’s just way too fucked up.

There’s nothing wrong with some harmless pretending, but if people find out that’s what you’re into, no one is gonna want you to perform their brain surgery. And can you blame them? We all know that people occasionally wind up with jobs they’re not supposed to have, like bullies becoming cops or trannys selling make up, so when you find out that the guy flying your plane through a storm spends his days off dressed like a jester, you’re allowed to get freaked.

I was amazed at how well these people stay in character. Most of them were excellent at it. In one interesting moment an old lady broke character and started complaining about her husband not taking his medication, and her friend who had probably heard this boring shit a thousand times in the past stayed in the game and played dumb. “I know not of what you speak of. What is this “prescription” thou refereth to?”

Well played, fake prostitute from 500 years ago, well played. Good for you, keep that selfish bitch in check. Who the fuck does she think she is shitting all over your awesome make believe party with her real life problems. Save that shit for the walk back to the car, cunty.

It made me think, I wonder how long people could keep acting like that? If there was a reality show, and the last person to stay in character won a million bucks, how long do you think people could hold out for?
If they were all living in a house together, and they have to do everything and say everything as if they were living in the 1500’s – how long do you think people could hang in there? That would be a real mind fuck.

I wonder if it would ever just become the new way you think and talk after a year or so.
I bet if the show got popular enough it could even spin off into a new sect of society that choses to live and act like a Renaissance fair 24/7/365. Maybe they could all pool their money together and buy an island where they can all live the dream together.
Weirder things have happened.