I think my life will end in some sort of scenario like this.
Come to CollegeHumor Live tonight to see me sweat! 9:30PM at the UCB
Age 15 - I’m funny!
Age 20 - I’m gonna be a comedian!
Age 25 - I’m a comedian!
Age 30 - I’m a writer-comedian!
Age 35 - I’m a humorist!
Age 40 - I’m a witty essayist!
Age 45 - I’m a bitter essayist!
Age 50 - I’m a cultural commentator!
Age 55 - I’m a cultural critic!
Age 60 - I’m a cultural cynic!
Age 65 - I’m tried!
Age 70 - I’m…eh, who gives a shit?
Age 75 - (quietly reading the newspaper, shaking head in disapproval every now and then)
Age 80 - I’m funny! By accident…
When Mr. Allen Large wants you to email him now, you do it.
You can only sell so much blood. How about we try and help you out? Click here to see how you could enter to win $5000!
If you’re in college, broke and can prove it in a funny way, this money could be yours. Honestly. I know with online contests people usually think it’s bullshit or there’s some catch but this is 100% serious. You don’t need to sign up for anything, you don’t need to put your email address on a list, we’re not going to spam you, you just need to enter. It is not as hard as you imagine to win this $5,000. Seriously.
This money is going to someone who took the requisite three and a half minutes to enter, so why not make it you?
Here’s the plan, Detroit. You start a campaign in Williamsburg, Bushwick, Greenpoint, etc. offering 5 years free rent if people will move to the abandoned factories of Detroit.
Show them the tens of thousands of square feet they’ll have for their live/work space. Show them the flat, deserted streets, perfect for fixed-gear bike commuters. Show them the rusted, burnt out shells of cars, completely free for their guerrilla street art collective to make use of.
It will be an adjustment. The old timers won’t like them at first. They’ll complain about the loud music thundering from the old Getty Station-turned-mixed-use-art/music venue. They’ll question the ability of a 25,000 square foot artisnal mustard store to attract enough customers to stay in business. They’ll reminisce about the days the park used to be enjoyed by families instead of a LGBT kickball league.
But things will change.
What was once a depressing Salvation Army Store catering exclusively to shoppers teetering on the edge of homelessness will become the hottest retail opportunity in the neighborhood, selling estate jewelry and mock-fur coats to herds of attractive girls with sleeve tattoos and Warby Parker glasses. The old corner bar, kept in business by a dwindling cliental of leathery drunks, will find new life as 20-something freegans pour in the door every weekend in search of an “authentic Detroit spot.” Even the faded graffiti literring the husks of buildings torched for insurance money will find that it is no longer the scribblings of a futureless urban youth, but rather a valuable cache of urban artwork demanding attention thanks to the efforts of a newly-local Tumblr photoblogger.
Like the ancient Britons left behind when Rome withdrew from the island in 383 AD, the hipsters will seize the ruins of that departed power and lay the foundation for a glorious new city. Londinium is a failure, a ruin, the decaying corpse of a civilization no longer able to sustain itself. But London will rise in its place.
And eventually the locals who stay will find that their neighbor’s moldering 3-family house just sold to an ESTY-rich lesbian couple for $1.1 million. The trash-strewn abandoned lot at the end of the block has become a community garden growing produce to benefit the Kites For Kids program at which a “master kitesmith” teaches local kids the art of DIY box kite construction. Even the mustard store is thriving after the identical twins who own it abandoned the mustard game and turned the space into a high end, indoor farmer’s-and-flea market. The old locals will come to love their vibrant, quirky new neighbors.
You know what you have to do, Detroit. You are a great American city and if you proceed with this plan you will live to see another bright, hopeful morning!
It’d also be nice to thin the herd here in New York. There’s only so many cage-free duck egg purveyors a population can support, ya know?
Good morning! It’s me, the first day of the week! And how are you this fine me? Oh…I see. I’m sorry to hear that. But did you at least have a good Saturday and Sunday? Great! Yeah, those guys are the best. We’re kind of a little crew, me and them. Yup, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. The big 3!
Why would you think I’d be closer with Tuesday and Wednesday? Haha. No way! I’m soooo not like Tuesday! It’s weird you think that. Tuesday’s all “I’m Tuesday, blah blah blah, there’s no good TV on me, I’m boring, blah blah blah.” That’s not me. I’m Monday! Monday Fun Day!
You say “Sunday Fun Day”? Weird.
Oh hey, did you watch all the good shows last night? I did. I watched Game of Thrones, Mad Men, that new HBO one, Family Tree, and…Oh, you went to bed early? Why? Not because of me, right?
Ah…I see. Work, right. But what about a few weeks ago when you were partying and…huh? Who is ‘Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day’? You know what, never mind.
So what’s the plan, my man? Are we gonna raise some hell or what? Seriously? ‘Go to work, come home, watch something and go to sleep’? That’s it? Pretty…pretty…pretty…pretty lame. HA! Curb. But for real, why don’t you hit the town tonight, grab some drinks, make some memories and mistakes?!
You keep saying that but I don’t know what a ‘weak day’ is. Oh, ‘Week’ day. That’s better. Ha. I was worried for a second that you were trying to say I was the worst day or something. Like ‘Monday is a weak day, brah.’ If you call something weak, don’t you always want to end that sentence with ‘brah’? Ugh, this gauc is weak, brah! Ugh, these waves are weak, brah! Ugh, these fish tacos are weak, brah! I guess I’m just hearing a SoCal surf guy in my head or something. I dunno.
You know, I was just thinking about how Thursday is, like, kind of a shit day and…Oh, you’re at work now? Really? This early? Wow. No, right, of course you can’t talk. Totally get it.
Well hey, enjoy me! I’m only here once a week and you’ll miss me when I’m gone! It’s like that one episode of Curb where Larry and Jeff go to…right, you’re at work. Gotcha. Sorry.
Sorry for everything.
If you haven’t already, please consider supporting my friend Mitch Magee’s Kickstarter for his short film, “Thank You Cabbage.”
Mitch is one of the most innovative and contrarian filmmakers out there. His “Mr. Ross” is worth watching on a monthly basis. The art and comedy worlds are healthier for having a little Mitch in their diet.
When I moved to NYC in 2001 a pack of cigarettes cost $4.50. Today cigarettes cost, on average, $13. That means that by 2020 a pack of cigarettes in NYC will cost $17.90. In 2030 they will cost $24.90. In 2040 a pack of cigarettes will cost a whopping $31.90 and by 2050 I’ll either be broke or dead.