persistence

I have turned over a new leaf in persistance. I’ve set up a list of smart mailboxes in my mail program, which is apple’s Mail. Every Monday I go down the list and send a short email to every booking person on the list. They get an email from me every week.

It’s usually super short. Here’s an example, sent to Lea from Evening Muse in Charlotte:

Hi lea! Happy monday! Hope you are great!

Sometimes I write a haiku. Sometimes I draw or just include a pretty or funny picture, but they are going to hear from me every week. So far this is the best way I have come across to get people’s attention and get them to book me. I type out each letter by hand, though, it’s not just a form letter that goes to all of them. It takes me an hour or two to cover the bases each monday, but I have gotten great results from it.

Just today the booking contact at the Loft in Columbus GA commented on my persistence as he was booking me for next Saturday. He got nine weeks of my monday email before he cracked and offered me a slot, haha! If you’re reading this Brad, thanks for being a good sport!

Some people don’t ever respond, but no people are ever going to respond if you don’t contact them. I try to soften the blow of the repeated emails by writing each one by hand, and making each one different and fun, because hey, I’m in this because I love it. Yes it’s a business, but I do it because I love it, and people should be able to see that when I communicate with them.

Holiday gift review

Picture it: It’s 400BC. Grog has awoken early and stoked the fire on this Dec 25th. He has an extra rabbit, and Hoark has been thoughtful and relatively un-smelly lately. Food is scarce, and it’s cold as an ex-wife’s hello outside. Grog ventures forth into the snow, a warm glow in his heart, and places the rabbit under a tree outside Hoark’s yurt. And thus, the tradition of gift giving was born! I have researched every word of this, and it’s 100% true and factual. In the spirit of Grog n’ Hoark, I present you with the Zug Holiday Gift Review! Hooray!

In a moment we will get to our first gift, but first, let’s review the Joy Scale.

I have adapted the Pain Scale that has been making its rounds at emergency rooms and hospitals to gauge laughter instead of pain. Hopefully you haven’t seen it because you haven’t been to the hospital for any reason, but if you have, you know how awesome it isn’t. Here’s the Pain Scale in all it’s splendor, for reference’s sake:

Wong-Baker pain scale

And here is my edited version which will be used for purposes of this discussion, my good chum:

The Joy Scale

With that out of the way, let’s get on to our first gift!

Trash Talker S&M Edition (Elton)

This gift has many names, and he is reportedly world famous. He’s a member of the Trash Talker line of dolls, which are approximately 8″ tall and fashioned from cloth and despair. Our friends at Prank Place refer to him alternately as Elton or the S&M edition, but we can all call him a friend.

The idea here is, you grab Elton by the legs and bang his head on something, and he bleats his choice of a number of masochist or gay sayings, such as “Ohh, that’s the way I like it!” or “You can ride me anytime, cowboy!”. Honestly, he seems to me to just be gay more than he seems to be a masochist. He does say “Ooh, that’s the way I like it!” when you crack him one on the dome, but the rest of his sayings seem to indicate his desire to refer to you or me as his “Rectum Romeo”, and hey, that could actually be kind of nice. Why does it alway have to be brutal, Elton? I just want to hold you!

Elton also has a gaggle of doll friends in the Trash Talker line, and they all have smart mouths when you knock them a good one. Here are some examples:

  • Bubba:”You got some pretty lips… mister!”
  • Mr Chan: “Oh don’t worry, peanut oil let me slide in real easy!”
  • Pimp Daddy: “Oww! You got some nice ass titties, bitch!”.

Hell yes! I thought I was the only one into ass titties. Thank god for you, Pimp Daddy!

Wow Factor: Marginal I wish Elton came with a monkey.
Price: Not too bad Priced inexplicably at $19.89, which is 5 cents more than my favorite book and rock album.
Risk of Offending: Pickles. Ding dang doodley doodley doo.
Joy Scale: Chuckler Oh Elton, you so craaazy!

Nope… it’s soap!

Moving on, we come to holiday favorite Turd Soap! Yes, it is exfoliating soap in the unmistakable shape of a dog turd. When you are handling dog turds with the kids this holiday season, don’t let the fun stop just because you have to wash up for dinner!

You can also bring it to the office and finally show those yahoos over in accounting who is boss. What you need to do is buy four or five of these turd soaps and put them in all the bathrooms until people get used to them and they’re no longer remarkable. Then replace the funny joke turd soap with actual turds. Yeah, wash your hands with a turd, Johnson! How’s that for demonstrating a business case for all new purchases, you prick?

The manufacturer also reckons it’s fun for kids in the bath, but does allow that it could be considered demented by certain people. It doesn’t go on to say that these people are boring blowhards, but I think we all know that they are. Just like ol’ turd-hands Johnson!

Wow Factor: Large. You think it’s a turd, but it’s really soap. Turd soap.
Price: Low Eight bucks, baby. Cheap and funny like an aging hooker.
Risk of Offending: Bark. Dogs will be horribly offended. Sorry Mister Fluffy! Daddy didn’t mean it!
Joy Scale: Chuckler, not to be confused with a buckler, which is a kind of armor.

Humphrey the Humping Dog

Next we have Humphrey the humping dog. He comes in two sizes (12″ and 8″), and all over your leg. He’s a tiny robotic friend who straps onto your leg, or whatever else his strap will reach around. You press his button, and he lumbers into a determined humping gait, gathering speed like a mighty locomotive until he blasts off into the interstellar dust of robotic canine pleasure. What could be better? Sex with a real person, you say? HOGWASH!

Humphrey also has a degree in macromolecular biochemistry, but you don’t ever ask him about that, do you? You just strap him to your leg and press his button without considering his feelings for once. Now who is the robot, you fiend?

Wow Factor: Big time. Humphrey is on his way. He’s making it. So much larger than life.
Price: Appropriate HUmphrey isn’t cheap, but he’s worth every penny at around $30.
Risk of Offending: Low. Humphrey just wants to love.
Joy Scale: Actually Funny What can I say, I dig Humphrey. I like his 8″ or 12″ style.

Weenie Babies

Next we have a brand new twist on an old favorite, the Beanie Babies. If you ever collected Beanie Babies, but wished they had been not only anatomically correct, but anatomically hugely exaggerated, then Weenie Babies are the toy for you!

Yes, no longer do we have to waste our time with those cockless wonders the Beanie Babies. The Weenie babies are here to give love in a much more realistic fashion. Thank you, Weenie Babies!

My favorite is Teddy Bare. He’s sweet and cuddly, with lovin’ to spare, or so I am led to believe. Hell yes, Mr Bare. Let’s do this thing!

Wow Factor: Sizeable. Big like their plush members.
Price: No Object Is there a price you wouldn’t pay for a plush doll with a giant boner? Hell no!
Risk of Offending: High. Someone would probably be offended, at least until they were left alone with these lovemeisters.
Joy Scale: I Peed People are going to pick these up when they’re in your house and go “Awww… augh!” and that’s exactly the reaction I want from a house guest.

Fatty Patty

We have all been told, or perhaps warned, that big girls need love too, and it has never been more true than with the Fatty Patty oversized love doll. It is unclear whether there is a single manufacturer of Fatty Patty, or if each retailer has a choice of Fatty Patties from different manufacturers, but all of the retailers that I have seen indicate unanimously that Ms. Patty is not only the life of the party, but also has three colossal love holes. I have discovered after a short and extremely sexy search of the internet that Fatty Patty boxes seem to differ a bit from retailer to retailer. Maybe Fatty Patty is in the public domain; I have no idea.

I need not remind you that nothing says holiday like three colossal love holes, but have you considered that a fully inflated Fatty Patty doll would make a stunning tree topper? Just imagine the delight on your children’s faces as they come down stairs to find an inflatable fatass impaled on the tree!

Also, I’d like to differentiate the inflatable, overweight love doll Fatty Patty from the Vancouver restaurant Fatty Patty’s, which is known more for its generous portions than its colossal love holes, according to the website. If you go in there shouting about colossal love holes, you will probably have the law called on you, and the law is firm and sticky like a yule log in Vancouver.

Wow Factor: Huge. Anyone who looks at Fatty Patty and doesn’t go “Wow!” has problems. Colossal problems.
Price: Sort Of High Seems to hover around $30 or so. She’s a little pricey for an office party gag, unless you’re the boss, or Tony Danza.
Risk of Offending: High. Fatty Patty will probably offend women, fat people, and of course, anyone who is easily offended.
Joy Scale: BROWNLOAD

Birmingham

I am at my favorite pizza place in Birmingham, AL, where I went to college. Its fall, and we’re playing a gig here in a few hours. Fun!

christianity not for me

I knew that christianity wasn’t for me when I tried to steal some gum from the supermarket. I think I might have gotten away with it a time or two before, but this time I got caught red handed.

Naturally, my mom wanted to know why I did it. She let me have it in the car. Grasping for reasons other than “I wanted some gum, and I knew you’d never buy it for me because it’s sugary candy”, I said someone made me. Genius!

“Who?” she asked.

“Someone straight down.” I told her.

“The DEVIL?!” she asked, piloting her huge 70′s station wagon out onto the road. “That is such a load of bull” she told me. I got spanked for that one when I got home.

I mean, really. God is always there in full shining glory, as recognized chiefly by my grandmother and to a lesser extent my mom and dad, when something good happens, or it’s a lovely day, but I’m not allowed to point to the Devil as having made me steal some Bubbalicious? Where’s the balance in this God/Devil thing?