Game Of Thrones Season 3 Recap: So, That Happened
Game of Thrones Season 3! Holy crap! It delivered pretty much everything we could’ve wanted in a third season, even for a series that already set the bar super-high. Here’s an in-depth recap of Season 3.
Dan Hopper’s GoT Season 3 recap is great!
We’re performing at this month’s CollegeHumor Live! Make a reservation and come hang out!
Jake and Amir, Streeter, Adam Conover and much more. Come grab a drink with us and enjoy the show. Tickets available here for free.
British people - Our London shows are now fully sold out. We heard a rumor from our booker that the club might be holding a few tickets for each show that they might let us release if the Royal Family doesn’t want them. If the rumors are true we’ll post something here or on Twitter about how to get them. Stay tuned.
Balding Vin Diesel Looks Wussier than Bald Vin Diesel [Click for more]
Vin Diesel sure looks like a badass, but did you know he’s like a reverse Samson? Most of his power comes from his lack of hair. Give him just a little bit, and he looks like a grumpy old man.
I’m appalled at the sheer amount of gross-out humor, sex jokes and dirty words being used in comedy these days. Often they’re subtle, buried deep within seemingly “clean” material, but that doesn’t excuse it. Personally, I have resisted the urge to lower myself to making immature, crass sex jokes or anything in that vein, but it’s hard to pass that test. I cull ideas from experience, like every comic, and often my pen is drawn to that low hanging fruit, so it’s a struggle to keep it clean. I’m no prude and I don’t fear the taboo, be it well-worn territory or not, but whole crap bits based on dirty words take no skill to master. Bait the hook or drag a wide net and you’ll catch a little laugh with filth, but I’d rather make it hard on myself and handle my rod like a skilled angler. I see men (and women) in the crowd who want that, too. “Challenge us, sir! Come size up our intellect and entertain us,” their pained expressions say. As a performer I want to rise to the occasion, even if that means bumping heads with those who wish to stay in an intellectual hole or chasm.
However, I don’t dismiss comics who do do potty-mouthed material. I’m not some jerk, off on a tangent about how nothing dirty can be good. Some men straight shun filthy performers, period, but I try to go with the flow since who am I to stamp on their career? From low art to high, men and women should respect the fact that someone is performing. I was at a show once where a raunchy comic named Nick was doing his thing. An offended audience member got up to leave so quickly that the chair he popped up from slammed into a lady’s hand, breaking the skin and making her finger bleed. A gentleman, even a thick-headed one, should know better than to ruin a show people have paid for. Nick ate it, badly, and even though the headliner hadn’t come on the stage, nobody was in the mood anymore. So, yes, some jokes may be a shock or dirty or, jeez, are completely dripping with filth, but any performer with the balls to get up there deserves a hand. Jobs like that aren’t easy to pull off and they’re even harder to come by, so I try to always respect performers, if not the performance.
Because all performance is art, which may turn some people off. “F*** art!” they’ll say, “It’s corny!” To which I reply, “Shh, it may be corny, but keep your mind open.” As whole crowds have seen, even crappy entertainers are capable of producing nuggets of gold. And shower them with praise, or you’re in the wrong, because every joke is the result of endless toil. Let us not wipe that away from our mind’s diary. A joke is a form of art, just like a painting. It doesn’t need to be hung to be considered a masterpiece.
But the overwhelming urge to be crude, for me, is one bud I always try to nip. Pull it off, and I feel great, like I conned ‘em into laughing, like a pro. Teeny, tiny references to art, music, lit, when massaged naturally into a bit, are an extremely effective tool. Even if the crowd is drunk and rowdy, when done skillfully, a wrecked dude can still grasp what I’m offering. And so I craft my set, joke by joke, into what I hope one day will be my opus. See, it’s not really about being smart or clean, it’s about challenging myself, which lights a fire under me, giving me something to which I can aspire. I’m not there yet, but I’m close. So, ladies, if you see me perform and a joke dies unceremoniously like a videogame character, I hope you’ll press the continue. And men, I hope you’ll laugh even though some jokes will be soft or rub you the wrong way.
I ask all of those, like me, who ply their trade with tongue or pen, is it possible to be funny without resorting to filthiness? I think so. And no matter how unnatural it may feel to toss them, innuendo and filth are crutches that you have no need for. Skin your set of all raunch, down to the bone, and join me in putting down the new roots of comedy in what has sadly become a dirty, sex-obsessed cunt tree.
Got a care package from the people at DollarShaveClub.com (who made that great ad last year). They’re apparently getting into the toilet business and have produced what they claim are ‘best in class’ sanitary wipes called One Wipe Charlies. To encourage me to try them out, they included in the package some “other products to help the process along.”
I’ve never used their razors or their butt wipes, but I’m happy to give them this free bit of promotion. How can I not support a company that spends a large amount of money to send me a poop joke in the mail?
There’s just something about dachshunds that I love. I don’t know if it’s their stupid bodies or their weirdo personalities, but goddamn do I love them. And though mine will try to hide behind my leg if a stranger tries to pet her, it’s nice to know that somewhere deep in her DNA is a sequence that would allow the above to happen.
And if so, how do you treat it? I get about 2-3 of these a month. They usually start with a little squiggle of what looks like electricity which gradually spreads until I can only see things in my periphery. My usual treatment is to take a fistful of Aleve and put a damp towel of my eyes for an hour. Looking for a less time-consuming, less-eating-a-handful-of-medicine way to make it go away. Anybody have one?
INT. SCDP-CGC CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Jonathan Lowermybills looks at the mockups through confused, squinted eyes. He puts them down on the conference room table.
Jonathan Lowermybills: Well, we heard SCDP-CGC was on the cutting edge, but this…I honestly don’t know where to start. Pete, you assured us a campaign that would deliver clicks, and I can’t say I’m seeing it here.
Don casually lights a cigarette, ignoring the comment.
Pete Campbell: Gentlemen, let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water. This is only a starting point. Don and his team -
Don Draper: Pete, sit down.
Pete sits, annoyed. Don turns to Jonathan Lowermybills.
Don Draper: Mr. Lowermybills, how do you feel right now?
Jonathan Lowermybills: To be honest, I feel fleeced! Taken advantage of!
Don Draper: Good.
Jonathan Lowermybills: Excuse me?
Don Draper: I said, Good. I want you to feel fleeced, taken advantage of, tricked, fooled, however you want to say it. Because that’s what the insurance companies are doing to the American driver.
Jonathan Lowermybills leans back, his interest piqued.
Don Draper: We’re not selling the Lowermybills trick for auto insurance savings. We’re selling fear, aren’t we? Fear that Uncle Sam and the insurance companies are going to take your money and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. We are all afraid of being fooled, being a clown, just like the painted old woman in the ad. Afraid, confused and helpless. But there’s something else in the ad, too. A message - seemingly written in haste, bleeding over the borders, rushed, urgent and private, like a communique from a spy working deep behind enemy lines. And that message is hope. That message - the Lowermybills message - says, yes, you are a scared clown right now, but we’re here to help. Lowermybills is here to help put these fears to bed, to cushion the blow. Like a pillow, giving comfort to a terrified old clown.
Jonathan Lowermybills smiles.
Jonathan Lowermybills: I didn’t even see the pillow until you mentioned it! Amazing.
Pete Campbell: It’s called ‘subliminally suggested advertising,’ Mr. Lowermybills. And Don is on the cutting edge.
Jonathan Lowermybills: Don, I’m impressed.
They shake hands. Pete leads Jonathan out of the conference room. Don looks over the ad one more time, admiring his own genius. He stubs out his cigarette and exits, lighting another one as he passes through the door.
The Phantom of the Office returns! And brings along some old friends. Against their will.
