All Podcasters are Assholes

SOOO many assholes have podcasts.....

In fact, quick anecdote here .. I had this comic on... and She's from the W. Coast... so a couple weeks ago she is like "hey I'm gonna be in Savannah, GA... come see me perform".. .Savannah is like 3 hrs north of here.. cool town. Kids on skateboards..Coheed and Cambria shirts..etc.

So I go.. of course it's kind of fucked up, and not run correctly.. but anyone who has seen a friends' band at a club could have predicted that.. My friend, the comic walks in, w/ this sensitive artist looking bearded guy (lush, full goatee) and he's wearing a fuckin' Thin Lizzy Shirt.. I was very skeptical  immediately. Was it an ironic t-shirt like a Williamsburg, Brooklyn thing, or  did he really dig power rock trios that were lead by hard drinking Irish Black Men?

 

ME: "THIN LIZZY!! How about that Phil Lynott (Lead singer.. black Irish guy) drinking himself to death, huh, huh?!?"

SENSITIVE BEARDED GOATEE: "UMMMM (Fake Questioning look on face) Didn't he die of a heroin overdose"?

ME: "Whatever man,... then Bon Scott from AC/DC drank himself to death (true story), who really cares?"

So I start talking to Bearded  Guy, and my comic friend... and I go to Beard:

ME: "SO, how do you know comic friend...?"

BEARD: "She did my podcast, you must know it, its a comedy podcast called "Blankety a Blank Blank a Blank"???

(now in addition to hating pre recorded podcasts ( I do mine live, warts and all)... I hate, HATE hate, HATE.... labeling your show... why can't it be about everything and  anything? I have had comics on my show, MMA fighters/MMA journalists... I've had friends on to do characters.. I had a guy on, Phil the Vegetarian on to discuss how he got addicted to pills... you know I don't see how you have to push yourselves into a corner and be one thing... isn't it fun to riff on EVERYTHING?

 

It's more interesting when I have someone that is "famous" for one thing" and can mix it up talking about another thing..then people will start to dig that person as an ambassador for whatever field they are in.

I mean if you're Marc Maron.. THEN you can say you do a comedy podcast because you are a funny motherfucker!!

ME:  "WELL! What a Coincidence!! Female Comic ALSO did my podcast!!!"

BEARD: "OOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU do a podcast TOO?!?!?" What is it called? Do you have a lot of other comics on?"

ME: "Well you know, beard, it's called "The One Guy Talking Podcast".  I have had lots of people on" etc etc see above...

 (I begin to tell a story about how I had made contact w/  one of the friends of the Boston Marathon Bombers,, and how I was going to give him an uninterrupted hour on the show to talk about what he considered a conspiracy against his friend--turns out this friend guy stood me up at last minute, but still)

BEARD: (Rolls eyes and shoulders, and shudders) "ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY, what studio do you use for your podcast?"

ME: "Huh, Wha?" I was drinking my 3rd Makers Mark and Diet Coke by this point.

BEARD:  "STUDIO! What recording studio do you use!?!?"

ME: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! DUDE I USE MY FUCKING GUEST BEDROOM AND I LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR SO MY 4 YR OLD  DOESN'T BARGE IN AND TELL A DICK JOKE!! HAHAHHAHAHHAAHHA... DUDE YOU'RE FUNNY... HAHAHAHAHLOLOLOL"

I even bought him a drink after that.... but seriously... A STUDIO!?-- That's way some of this ecommerce, online infamy shit has become a bit much,,,,  I am kicking and screaming towards mid middle age.. I wanted to have a creative hobby.... and I already had this blog... and I knew I could talk to people... and I knew I could improvise, and have all sorts of different people on. The only thing that I had in my mind as far as organizing the show was that I'd have guests on that I thought were fun, or interesting or challenging.

 

The only advice I gave potential guests is to think of the show as walking into a bar, and either a) running into a friend you had not seen in a while, or b) sitting next to the wackiest, most unfiltered person at the bar...and you banter back and forth all night.

 

That's it... that's the only thing... :) Not bad, huh?

MMA Journalist LORETTA HUNT (@LorettaHuntMMA) calls in!! 6/6/2013 8PM EST

One Guy Talking Podcast - Live & Recorded Episodes:

Been A LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG TIME or "The Number of The Beast"

gonna share my Iron Maiden Story that I've written.... again this is FICTION, it did not happen to me when I was 16.. it is FICTION

ok, onto Iron Maiden..

 

So I was ridiculously young, like 14 or 15. And my neighbor across the parking lot, (let's just say his name was Paul Smarry, Jr.)was like "Hey Eth (I always felt that it was awkward being called Eth), I'm going to Jennifer Killowatz' party' (there literally were like 20 girls named Jennifer, who were cunts, who hung out together and ruled the school. No bullshit)Party tonight, Jorge (or "George" as Paul called him is gonna be there... I'm gonna score an 8 ball... Colin (Boding) and Jeff (Perkasie) are gonna come over my house the next day, you wanna come over?"

 

I was like hmmmm either watch WWF Superstars w/ my crazy Jewish nebbish parents there, or walk across the parking lot to snort coke at Pauls house? hmmmmmmm

 

Paul won out.

 

so I'm there.... and I HATED Colin and Jeff... they were mean and stupid... where as Paul was a good guy..  he has the baggie (does the drug business alone keep the plastic baggie industry rocking? Has to be) out.. he's like "Eth, look at this coke, HUH? HUH??!"

 

He grabs "Number of the Beast" by Iron Maiden... now at the time, I was a punk rock, alterna kid,.. and hated metal.... I have since grown up to LOVE metal and have since seen, and really dug seeing Iron Maiden in concert.... and he puts the album on his turntable... and he is blasting it... and he begins to cut up multiple, fat lines....

 

He's like "Eth gets the first 2 lines"...... So I do 'em...  using a straw I think.... Instant sinusy bitter explosion in nose/brain/etc.   I prob do one more line (so 3 lines, mind you never done it b4) and I stumble out across the parking lot, back home

 

Now, my parents were (now deceased) great, loving parents.. but also neurotic, manipulating overbearing Jewish parents... I was an only child... if you've seen a Woody Allen movie.. modernize it a bit... and move it across the Hudson to NJ, and that was my childhood growing up  in NJ.... a lot of love, a lot of vacations... but a lot of emotional blackmail.

 

so, I come into my house.. Dad is reading the Newark Star Ledger.... Mom is probably smoking Kool Milds in the bathroom.... she comes out and she's like :

 

"Ethan, the Summer is almost over (not true).  You need school clothes. I'm taking you right now to The Woodbridge Mall"

 

I had just done 3 lines of Coke. Off an Iron Maiden album cover.

 

My fucking Mom is taking me to The Woodbridge Mall to the motherfucking GAP

 

So my eyes are rolling around in my head.. and my teeth are (of course) tingling.. and I'm wandering around the mall and my Mom is trying to talk to me, and  of course, I can't hear  her... and she's like (very Jewily) "ETHAN, I'm taking you to the DOCTOR, RIGHT NOW".... and I was like "No Ma, you don't need to.. my ears are just bothering me"

 

So we finish our clothes shopping.. and we go  home, and my father has the sports thingy on TV... and he's shaking his  head....

 

.. and I'm like "Dad what's going on?"

 

and he is shaking his finger at the screen and says "What a  STUPID MOTHERFUCKER  that Len Bias is"

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Len_Bias

 

So I'm like "Who the hell is Len Bias?"

 

So Dad goes, "fucking basketball start at Univ of Maryland, Got drafted in 2nd  round by the Boston Celtics....

 

(and then, most tellingly...)

 

"HE JUST DROPPED DEAD IN HIS DORM ROOM FROM A COCAINE OVERDOSE".....

 

I was this neurotic, only child Jewish Kid... who listened to punk rock, and The Smiths in his room...

 

I had just done coke... off an Iron Maiden album cover

 

my Mom dragged me to the Woodbridge Mall

 

and then Len Fucking Bias, college basketball star.... drops dead of a overdose, in his fucking dorm room!

 

Great short story, right?