Tag Archives: Facebook

Intelligence Is A Pre-Existing Condition

History was made this week with the passage of the major healthcare reform bill in Congress, which was then signed into law by President Obama.  It’s final.  It’s done.  It’s over.  There.  Can we stop fucking talking about it?  Apparently not.

Since the House of Representatives passed the bill Sunday night, my Facebook page has been bombarded with people either praising the bill as a wondrous step forward in progressive ideals, or lambasting it as a complete socialist takeover and a precursor to the ultimate destruction of everything happy.  I’m tired of reading all these people’s reactions.  I’m a young guy in my early 20s.  Most of my Facebook friends chiming in on the issue are also young people in their early 20s or younger.  If you happen to be one of those people reading this, please take to heart the following sentence:


This isn’t just my opinion, either.  I’ve had to deal with it in my stand-up (which really sucks because the stuff I wrote about in this blog entry is the stuff I REALLY want to talk about onstage and be taken seriously about it).  People just don’t care what young people think because young people don’t know hardly anything.  In fact, if you’re under 25, your opinion in general simply doesn’t matter.  Gee, healthcare reform passed?  Let’s go to the Facebook feed to find out what 19-year-old TJ in Nashville thinks: “Dude, healthcare reform is bullshit—socialist takeover BADURPADURPADURP!”

First of all, any political opinion that begins with the word, “dude,” is shorthand for, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.” Secondly, again, no one cares what you think.  That’s why you never see young people on the news.  Wolf Blitzer is never going to say, “And now for some insight from our youth correspondent, please welcome to The Situation Room: Snooki!” C’mon.  Besides, who could honestly know more about healthcare reform than a bunch of teenagers who haven’t even started drinking yet?  Shut up.  Especially if you’re one of those teenage girls who is complaining that the healthcare bill is causing a 10% tax hike for indoor tanning salons.  Think about it: by the time you have full-blown skin cancer, you’ll have the health insurance to cover for it, so pay the extra $5 a session, you plastic carrots.

Now, that said, I’m gonna completely undermine everything I just wrote by offering my own opinion.  Hey, it’s my blog—I’ll break my own rules if I want.  If you don’t like it, go start your own blog.

I’m glad the healthcare reform bill passed.  I personally wish they still kept in the public option, but that’s beside the point—I’m glad it passed for one major reason: to help keep the private insurance companies from screwing us even more than they already are.  Because that’s all they do at this point.  They’re not interested in helping people.  They just want to make as much profit as possible, and they will go to whatever means necessary to NOT do what they are actually there to do.  Case in point: pre-existing conditions.

If you have a pre-existing condition, the insurance companies can deny you coverage.  Which is amazing to me.  These are the people who need it most, and thankfully the new healthcare bill will put an end to this (at least in children).  This problem had been getting completely out of control.  Insurance companies were denying people for having pre-existing conditions, which isn’t fair to begin with, but what made it worse was that the insurance companies then started stretching their definitions of pre-existing conditions to the point of absurdity.  Pregnant women could be denied coverage because they were pregnant.  People could be denied coverage because they were intending to adopt. (For the record, I’m not making either of those examples up.  Look it up, it’s out there.)

It’s amazing to me.  The insurance industry is the only industry I can think of that would actively think of ridiculous excuses to NOT do what they’re supposed to do.  It’s like if your house was on fire, and you called the fire department, and the guy on the other line said, “I dunno if we can come out there.  Did you own a cat?”

“Yes,” you say.
“Sorry, that falls under our list of pre-existing conditions.”
“What?!  How does owning a cat prevent you guys from putting out my fire?!”
“Well, cats are highly flammable.  We can’t help you.  Sorry.”

Regardless, that problem should hopefully start to become less severe in the coming years.  At the same time, other problems seem to be getting worse as the days go by.  Since the bill passed, many on the crazy fringe section of the folks opposed to healthcare are going BERSERK.  Death threats, acts of vandalism, rhetoric that gets more and more violent by the sentence—it’s become pandemonium.  I keep seeing more and more talk about revolution and the use of brute force including that of firearms.  There are even a few random psychos on the internet talking about assassinating President Obama—it is INSANE.

All of this stuff actually got me thinking about the gun laws in this country.  I’m not a fan of guns in the first place and I definitely think, given the way some people on the right are acting, it’s time to consider taking measures for increased gun control.  Of course, pro-gun people sometimes defend their stance by saying things like, “Guns don’t kill people.  People do.”

I know.  Especially if those people HAVE FUCKING GUNS.

In the end, though, I don’t know why everyone even goes out of their way to react to the issue.  From the uninformed teenagers to the wackaloons, they’re all wasting their time.  I wasted my time writing this, and you wasted your time reading it.  I’m sick of people talking about healthcare reform.  I’m sick of people talking about mostly anything regarding politics.  Our current political system is bullshit anyway.  It’s ruled by two parties who are wholly unintelligent, while trying to solve unbelievably complex problems.  It’s like Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift playing chess:

It doesn’t matter whose side you’re on, or whose moves you think are better for America, because in the end: they’re both fucking retarded.

Until next time,



Further Thoughts On Social Networking

I recently published a post about my motivations for deleting my Twitter account.  In that post, I mentioned that I had some bones to pick with Facebook, but I was saving them for a future entry.

Well, this is that entry.

I have a real love/hate relationship with Facebook.  I’ve talked about this a little bit in my stand-up performances.  It has its benefits, but it also has its downfalls.  Facebook is actually worse than Twitter in various ways (including those that drove me to delete my Twitter page), but I felt like I could sacrifice my Twitter profile in spite of the necessity of promoting my stand-up comedy.  Facebook, on the other hand, is a necessary evil.  I can’t not have one in this day and age.  I do love it because it makes promoting my stand-up SO much easier, and it is a good way to keep in touch with geographically distant friends.  But there are several things regarding Facebook that I feel the need to discuss.

First, my profile (the link to which can be found on the right side of this blog).  As of this writing, I have roughly 700 friends on Facebook, which is a complete lie.  I don’t have 700 friends.  Do you have 700 friends?  Who the fuck has 700 friends?  If I’m being generous, I have maybe 10 actual friends.  Who are the other 690?  I don’t know.  I couldn’t even make up 700 fake names if I tried.

I’ll tell you about something I did the other day.  Maybe you’ve experienced it, too.  I was browsing around random profiles on Facebook, and then I stumbled upon someone who only had 17 friends.  Have you ever had that moment where you find someone like that on Facebook, and your first reaction is, “What a fuckin’ loser THIS guy is!  He’s only got 17 friends?!  Hey, all 942 of my bullshit friends: look at this fuckin’ loser over here with only 17 friends!  How does he live, man?!”  How does he live?  Well, for starters: he fucking LIVES.  He’s not sitting around on Facebook all day acquiring friends.  He’s being realistic with his social circles.  If we were all realistic with our social circles, we’d all have 17 friends, too.

Of course, Facebook encourages social networking.  Whatever the hell that is.  It’s a bullshit phrase.  Social networking is basically the online equivalent of passing someone on the street and going, “Hey.”  But Facebook encourages finding new people to connect with online.  For instance, one of the features they have for finding new friends is a page called People You May Know.  Personally, I think the page should have a different name: People You’ve Never Fuckin’ Heard Of.  Because that’s all I ever get.  Every time I go to that page, I find myself asking, “Who the fuck are you people?!”  Sometimes I’ll go to the person’s profile, and it will say we have five mutual friends.  Then I’ll click on the five mutual friends and go, “Who the fuck are these people, too?!”  How can I possibly know you when I don’t know the people I know, who also know you, you know?

That’s the thing that bugs me the most about Facebook: none of us know anybody.  Everyone has hundreds of friends that they don’t talk to; that they will probably NEVER talk to.  I once got a message from a guy whom I had one or two classes with in high school.  We weren’t good friends back then, and I don’t recall us ever really talking that much.  But this guy sent me a message saying, “Hey man, you wanna get together sometime and catch up?”

And I thought, “Catch up?  Dude, we didn’t BEGIN.”  What exactly are we catching up from when we never even got started?  Let’s say, for the hell of it, that we DID end up getting together somewhere.  The moment in the conversation where I say, “Excuse me, I gotta go to the restroom,” and then run out the front door—that’s called speeding ahead.  And I call it that to keep him from catching up to me.

Facebook, like its other social networking brethren, is ridiculously addictive and time-consuming.  I spend too much time on Facebook.  I’m trying to curb my use, but it’s especially hard for me because I talk to people more on Facebook than I do elsewhere.  I know that’s kinda sad but it’s the truth, because I lead a pretty solitary existence as it is.  A lot of people spend too much time on there without realizing it.  Here’s an easy way to determine if you spend too much time on Facebook: have you ever ALMOST picked up a hitchhiker, just to have someone to talk to?  If you’ve ever had that moment, then maybe you should stop spending so much time on Facebook.

Although, to be fair, that would make a KILLER status update.

Until next time,


Why I Quit Twitter

Last night, I deleted my Twitter account.

The genesis for the idea spawned from a discussion with a friend about Twitter and its current influence over our lives.  We both had signed up to Twitter for mainly the same reason: self-promotion.  He’s a writer on a few literary websites; I’m a stand-up comic who occasionally writes drivel like this—and we wanted another place for us to promote our respective creative wares.

Over the course of time, however, we realized that instead of using Twitter constructively to promote our endeavors, we had fallen into the trap of using Twitter more as a distraction FROM our creativity.  I know this all too well because I have a habit of getting addicted to technology, much to the detriment of my general productivity.  And lately, I’ve been beginning to resent those things (and myself) for letting them suck me in the way that they have.  I can’t tell you how many hours of my life I’ve spent on all these social networking sites that could have instead been spent working on my craft.

The unfortunate thing about the way the world works now, though, is that I still need to keep my feet in the digital ocean if I want to get anywhere with my craft.  I can’t rely on simply word-of-mouth, but I don’t want to be so focused on promotion that I neglect my creative process.  Yet I still HAVE to have some sort of presence in the electronic world in order to gain any traction.  However, I can still take my life back from the machines to a certain extent, to paraphrase my friend, and I realized that I don’t need a Twitter account anymore.

It’s amazing how something so pointless can simultaneously be so dangerous.  I knew I was addicted to Twitter once I started using it from my phone, which was dangerous.  Because at that point, everything I experienced had to be filtered into thoughts of up to 140 characters.  Instead of just taking things in for what they are, I would constantly ask myself, “Is this tweetable?  Is this tweetworthy?” No, I’m just being an obsessive-compulsive narcissistic twit.  It’s ridiculous.

Twitter gave me OCD.  I never really had it that bad until I started using Twitter.  Here’s an easy way to determine if you have Twitter-induced OCD: if you ever have that moment where you suddenly realize, “Holy shit: I haven’t tweeted in FOUR HOURS!  I must parlay some new piece of digital brilliance into the vast ether, lest I become irrelevant!” then you’ve got it.  If the timeframe gets shorter (“TWO HOURS”) then you’ve got it REALLY bad.

In addition to OCD, it also feeds into your narcissism.  If you’ve never been a self-centered person, Twitter will make you one.  Even the terminology feeds into narcissism: on Twitter, you don’t have friends like you do on Facebook.  You have “followers,” like you’re some fuckin’ cult leader all of a sudden.  Yeah, let me guess—the Brotherhood of What-I’m-Having-For-Dinner.  All it does is give you a major ego trip.  Nobody gives a fuck what you have to say.  Nobody’s ever going to be like, “Oh my God, Riley hasn’t tweeted all day—call the cops!  He’s been KIDNAPPED!  We need a search party out on this guy!”

So, I’ve given up on Twitter.  I still have a Facebook page, and won’t be getting rid of it anytime soon.  I don’t have much of a choice with that, and I don’t mind it most of the time.  I do have some annoyances with Facebook, but I’m saving those for another entry.  I still have a MySpace, for reasons unbeknownst to even God himself.  Have you been around THERE lately?  Jesus Christ.  What a sad, pathetic wasteland that place has become.  I came up with an interesting analogy for the three major social networking sites recently:

– Twitter is like the young, hot 20-year-old who’s good for a short fling
– Facebook is like the more mature 30-year-old who knows what the fuck’s going on, and is in it for the long-term
– And MySpace is like the 40-and-older cougar crowd for when you wanna make some horrible life decisions

To be fair, I do still use MySpace on rare occasion.  I literally only use it to post bulletins about upcoming important shows, and it has worked in the last couple of months to bring out a few people to those shows whom I otherwise wouldn’t have reached.  That’s nice, and Twitter was good for that occasionally, but then I realized that 95% of the people who follow me there (and who aren’t random-ass spam accounts) were already my friends on Facebook, so why even bother with it?

Thus, I’ve pared my social networking activity down to solely Facebook, with the occasional MySpace binge when promoting shows, and this blog (which really isn’t a social networking site, and it can be used constructively).  I think that that’s about the most minimal I can get without completely eschewing technology altogether, which is pretty much impossible nowadays.  To paraphrase my friend again, it kind of makes me feel like Sarah Connor from the Terminator films, which is a pretty cool way to look at it.

Too bad I can’t re-tweet it.

Until next time,


The End Of Civilization As We Know It

Imagine a world without Twitter and Facebook.

Go ahead, give it a shot.

For a few hours earlier this morning, we were forced to do just that.  Twitter was (and as of this writing, still is dealing with the remnants of being) attacked by hackers in an attempt to launch a “denial of service” ambush.  Denial of service basically translates to overloading the servers with so much traffic that the targeted site crashes and burns forever.  In this case, the main target was Twitter, with other sites like Facebook and LiveJournal catching some of the collateral damage.

It was amazing.  I read a story about the attacks later in the morning on one of the major news network’s websites (I’ll give you a hint: it begins with a C and ends with an NN), which described users’ inability to keep up with what was going on in the world due to the outages.

That’s kind of a weird thing for a fucking NEWS NETWORK to say.  Re-read that last paragraph carefully, and you’ll see that CNN essentially rendered themselves obsolete by stating that user-driven sites like Twitter and Facebook are better for keeping up with to-the-minute news updates than the news networks themselves.  Instead of giving the article a title about the attacks on Twitter, why not just give it the headline: “NEWS NETWORKS BECOME IRRELEVANT?”

At the same time, to say that people had no access to breaking news through the brief downfall of Twitter and Facebook is kind of dubious at best, and downright insulting at worst.  I know we’re addicted to technology as a culture, but it’s not like if Twitter went away, people would be suddenly wandering the streets shouting, “OH, SHIT!  WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!  I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS ANYMORE!”  There would still be plenty of avenues for people to take on the internet to find the events of the day.  Like, oh, I dunno—NEWS SITES.

Now, how do I feel about the whole thing?  I’m ambivalent, to be honest.  Twitter, as of this writing, still isn’t functioning correctly for me (it’s not posting any of my tweets).  But I’m not in some kind of crazy e-rage over it.  Granted, I have plenty of tweet-worthy thoughts swirling about in my head that I kinda wish I could broadcast to the world in a brief fit of narcissism, but whatever.  I’ll just wait it out.  Maybe something newsworthy will happen in Twitter’s absence, like the confirmation of the first Hispanic Supreme Court judge.

What?  That just happened a few minutes ago?  Well, I’ll be damned.  If only I had a user-generated up-to-the-minute source for news, I would have already known that…


Until next time,


The Fast-Food Calorie Counter And A Completely Unrelated Story About Porn

It was the most ironic thing.

I was recently standing in line at a fast-food joint, and this guy behind me was debating over what he was going to order.  I was too, so I initially thought nothing of it.  But then I heard him say the word, “calories,” and I began to listen more closely.  It was within seconds that I came to discover:

He was debating over what he was going to order based on the calorie counts of each menu item.


Recently, most of the major fast-food franchises have been making public the nutritional information regarding the items on their menus, as part of their ongoing quest to further health-ify their images.  Many of them have a display somewhere in the restaurant, and others will give you a sheet of paper with the data upon request.

I honestly don’t understand why fast-food restaurants are bothering with posting the nutritional facts.  The fact that we eat there in the first place ought to tell them that we obviously don’t give a SHIT about calorie counts.  That’s why we eat at fast-food joints: we don’t WANT to fuckin’ count calories!  We just want to get in, eat our shit, and go.  We already made the decision to eat here—clearly health is NOT a major concern for us.

That guy behind me in line was an idiot.  To even try to look at fast-food from a health standpoint is the absolute wrong way to go about it.  It completely misses the point.  Counting calories at a fast-food joint is like going to a porn shop to make a new friend.  Or practicing to be a suicide bomber.

That reminds me of a story, related to and apropos of nothing stated earlier in this post except for something in that last paragraph.  I’ve told this story before on my Facebook profile, but it’s been a while and it’ll be new here. (And no, this does not mean I am out of ideas to write about.  This story is definitely worth repeating.)

Downtown Nashville has a porn shop named Hustler Hollywood, named for, yes, THAT Hustler (ironically enough, located on a road ACTUALLY called Church Street—I am dead serious).  First of all, I know that most porn shops have that stigma of being nasty, grungy, icky places—and that’s true for a lot of them—but Hustler Hollywood is actually nice.  Like, REALLY nice.  It’s like a fuckin’ Macy’s in there. (Bonus local reference for Nashvillians: It’s like the Green Hills Mall of porn shops.)

As I stated before, porn shops are not the place for people to try to make friends, although there is often a community mindset.  After all, everyone is there for the exact same reason.  But it’s a reason that shows people at their most vulnerable, and everyone is aware of that, so they generally steer clear of interaction with other shoppers (which is a weird word to use in that context, but I can’t think of one better).  They just sort of give an acknowledging nod and shuffle on by.  Porn shops are not a place for conversations.

Occasionally, however, some people don’t get the memo.

I was once in the Hustler Hollywood, perusing the aisles. (No, I didn’t buy anything, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to look around.)  I started looking at the videos, when I noticed a gentleman, roughly a few years my senior, slowly gravitating in my direction.  I caught him in my peripheral vision, and without calling any attention to his advances, I casually walked over to another shelf of videos.

He followed me to the other shelf.

At this point, my mind was put on alert.  Oh shit, I thought, I think this guy’s gonna talk to me!  HE’S GONNA BREAK THE CODE! I contemplated moving into the gay porn section, just to throw him off.  But then my self-consciousness kicked in.  “What if he sees me go into the gay section, and then he thinks I’m gay?  Or even worse, what if I go into the gay section, and it turns out HE’S gay?  I’d be ganged up by all the gay!  Caught in the cornhole corner!  ABORT!” I ultimately decided to venture into the ethnic porn section, because I figured if I’m leaving him with some kind of impression, then goddamnit: might as well make him think I’m CULTURED.  Hey, I like Hispanic music, Hispanic cuisine, Hispanic art—why not Hispanic porn?

But it was all to no avail, as he finally approached me.  And in that moment, I looked up towards the heavens, into the face of God—well, actually, it was just a poster of Jenna Jameson—and accepted the fate that was inevitable.  This guy was obviously on a mission to say something to me, so I gave in, planted my feet, and took a deep breath:

“Man, I prefer girl-on-girl porn, ’cause I just can’t stand lookin’ at dudes’ penises.”

…nice to meet you, too.

That was his ice-breaker.  Not, “what kind of porn do you like?”  Not, “who’s your favorite pornstar?”  Not even a simple, “what’s up, man?”  No, this gentleman decided to introduce himself by revealing his MOST DEEPLY PERSONAL MASTURBATORY FETISH.  And then he walked away.  Now those words are going to be in my head forever.  I will never be able to un-know that fact.  And, because I will probably never cross paths with him again, I will never have the chance to find out why he chose to say THAT to me instead of something else.

Then again, if that was his most personable thought at the time, I’d be afraid to find out what his other options were.  I thought to myself, This is it.  I’ve officially seen EVERYTHING.

And then, as I headed towards the exit, I saw him holding two videos, and he was debating over which video to buy based on the girl-on-girl scene counts in each one.

Until next time,


868 Words On Marriage And Babies

I’ve always been an outsider.  Never fit in with the status quo; at least, not entirely.  But I’m so fascinated by what the status quo is that I can’t help but observe it from afar, and my curiosity gives me a kind of broad looking-glass view of my generation.  I often equate the mass mainstream culture to a kind of abstract zoo exhibit.  With so much focus on voyeurism–reality TV, tabloids, etc.–it’s like looking at a group of random wild animals from beyond a glass encasing.  We’ve become so obsessed with what OTHER people are doing, and yet we never question why we’re so obsessed with it or whether it’s even good for us to obsess over it in the first place. (To dissolve the kind of ironic aura between that statement and the beginning of the paragraph, I will say that I often question why my generation obsesses over such odd things.  I can never come up with the answer, though.)

It seems like virtually everyone I know is either getting married or having children.  Now, granted, that’s obviously a hyperbole.  It’s really not that many people who are experiencing these things, but it’s more than I’m comfortable with, frankly.  I’m a young guy.  I turn 21 in a few months.  And there are a bunch of people getting married and having children.  It’s fuckin’ weird.

Facebook is usually the newsbreaker in most of these situations.  I’ll log on, scroll down through all the status updates, and randomly come across a person who graduated with me with a status update saying, “[insert name] is getting MARRIED!” or, “[insert name] is having a BOY!” And underneath, several of their friends are offering all sorts of congratulatory messages.  Some of these people posting these status updates are even YOUNGER than me, which really makes me uncomfortable.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to get married or have children this young.  Some of them have just graduated high school and they’re already taking these next steps.  I’ve seen wedding photos with the bride and groom making gang signs at the camera.  It’s ridiculous.  How can you be so sure when you’re that young?

This is my favorite, though: I once saw a status update from a girl who graduated with me, and it said (name changed to protect innocent), “Shelley is getting married tomorrow!” And, underneath, one of this girl’s BEST FRIENDS wrote in a comment: “Congrats!  Who’s the lucky guy?”

Are you fucking KIDDING me?!  Who’s the lucky guy?!

If you’re a close friend of the bride-to-be, you should not have to ask who the lucky guy is, because by then, you would fucking KNOW.  In fact, if you don’t know who your best friend is marrying, then chances are: SHE DOESN’T EITHER.  I don’t take marriage that seriously as a “sacred institution,” but it does mean something very special to a lot of people.  However, to have that much seeming obliviousness towards marriage can’t be good.  Or right.  Or sacred.  Or whatever the fuck.  The institution of marriage is already a huge joke in this country, so there’s no need to make any more of a mockery out of it.

Are there exceptions?  Of course.  One of my closest friends from high school is going to marry his girlfriend (I don’t remember exactly when off the top of my head, because I don’t think they have a date set).  They’ve been together for almost three years, and they are both incredibly smart and mature people with equally smart and mature families supporting them.  They understand everything going into it, and they are devoted to each other in a way that makes marriage practical for them.  I know this firsthand, having been around them since they first started dating (I’ve known my friend since 7th grade).  They are taking it seriously, and for that I can commend them, because they’re not just frivolously hooking up with and marrying what seems like the first person to ask them.

And there’s all these people having kids, which is even crazier to me than just getting married.  So many people from the ages of 18-21 either having kids, already have had kids, or have fathered kids.  I don’t understand it.  I truly don’t.

The thing that’s gotten on my nerves the most about these people having kids is the names that these kids are getting.  They have got to be the fucking goofiest sounding names I’ve ever heard: Kaeden, Braeden, Kyson, Dyson, Flaeden, Glayvin, Flarhwewon, Agoioijwoihw, etc.  It’s ridiculous.  These are the shittiest names I’ve ever seen.  For fuck’s sake, I’m like one of the last six remaining male Rileys in the world, because all the Rileys coming up now are girls.  Riley has become the new Jordan.

If I ever have a kid, I’m not giving him any of those ungodly names.  Fuck no, he’s gonna have a regular goddamn name: John Smith Fox.  And the saddest part about that is the fact that by the time that happens, John will be the most UNIQUE name in the world because he’ll be walking around with all of the Kysons and the Braedens and the Woiavnawionwais.

President Kaeden…fucking kill me.

Until next time,


I’ve Made The Big Time

When I was a senior in high school, I did a short stand-up performance at the spring talent show.  I had the performance filmed and then uploaded the video onto YouTube (it has since been removed from the site, though I still have the video).  A few months later into the summer, a friend forwarded a video to the girl I was dating at the time entitled, “Riley Fox Is Not Funny.”

The video consisted of the video footage from my talent show performance, but with new audio dubbed in by a friend of the above-mentioned friend.  It lampooned my performance by hilariously deconstructing all of the jokes I told at the show, and then (in character as me) berating me for being an unfunny comedian.  I howled with laughter the first time I watched that video, and parts of it still make me giggle when they spring from memory (such as the opening, in which “I” walked onstage and said in a goofy voice, “Hi, everybody, I’m Riley Fox!  I’m gonna tell you some jokes!”).  I loved it so much that I even spread it around myself by posting it on my MySpace page.  As much as I’d wished I would see another one, I never did.

Until today, when I logged onto Facebook and saw that the friend who’d forwarded my then-girlfriend that video posted a new link to my profile.  It was a sequel to “Riley Fox Is Not Funny,” this one entitled, “Riley Fox #1 Comedian.” It did the exact same thing as the last video, only they used one of my recent performances at Zanies Comedy Showplace in Nashville, TN.  Again, I howled with laughter, and again, I’m going to spread it around.

Here is the ORIGINAL video of my performance:

Now, here is the PARODY video of that same performance:

First of all, I will say that my favorite part of this parody video is the emcee who introduces me at the beginning (“our next comic is an unfunny douchebag”).  I fuckin’ love it.

I’m not offended by it in any way.  Granted, some of the comments below the video (and on some of my own) are a bit harsh, but I’ll take the good with the bad.  The videos themselves are hysterical.  On some level, I see them as a source of validation.  It’s like the Weird Al Yankovic effect: they wouldn’t satirize me if I wasn’t good enough to be satirized in the first place.  If I wasn’t good enough for it, then they would just let the original videos speak for themselves.  But the fact that they took the time–however short or long–to make these parodies tells me that I’m doing something right.

I take pride in the fuckin’ weirdest things…

Until next time,