I’m flying, folks-
No, nothing happened to make me elated. I’m actually in the air writing this. Well, that’s not necessarily true. There are many things happening in my life that make me elated. I just have to make sure I acknowledge them and not be one of those idiots who isn’t grateful or enjoying anything. It’s hard when you are wired like that. I have to make note that life is more than okay right now or I’ll just blow through it wondering when it’s supposed to happen. Luxury problem. I know. Just reminding myself. Hope you folks are good.
I had a great time in Cleveland. Yes, you read that right. I really appreciate all the folks for coming out. I didn’t know I had so many fans there. It made the shows great and makes me want to go back. I ate good bad food there and the people were really nice.
I did have one experience that I will remember for a long time. I’ve been in show business half my life. I was barely in it for most of that time but it is the life I have chosen. I witnessed something in Cleveland that had profound meaning to me. It was a signifier of everything wrong in the world of entertainment and maybe the world itself. It was incredibly creative but profoundly stupid. It happened on morning radio. Obviously. I was taken to a radio show by the guy who works for the comedy club. When we arrived there were men in their underwear running around the hallway in a panic with buckets. A producer of the show came out to give me a breakdown of what was going on. I have done a lot of morning radio. I have been in weird porn situations, racist situations, degrading contest situations. I know the terrain. For some reason what the producer of this particular show told me was an end of something for me. He said that they were getting ready to fire the vomit cannon. The entire studio had been covered in plastic and some guys had rigged a leaf blower with some kind of funnel apparatus and from what I gleaned one dude drank a gallon of milk so he could puke, dump it in the funnel and spray it into the mouth and all over another dude. I’m not a pompous guy. I am 50 years old, though. I’m a grown ass man and I wanted to get the fuck out there. It wasn’t even about following that garbage which it did become about eventually. It was just that who the fuck wants to be part of that shit after a certain point.
When they finally shot the cannon it backfired puke all over the ceiling of the studio, the on place they didn’t cover in plastic, and the entire hallway smelled like vomit. I was livid and ready to bolt. They scrambled around trying to clean up like the tragic man-children that they are and they set me up in a different studio where the host interviewed me. It was actually a great interview. He’s a great radio guy. I asked him why they did the puke cannon. What was the point? He said that if I picture being younger wouldn’t it be something I’d think of doing. Not in a million fucking years. It’s not shocking anymore. It’s not really funny. It’s just desperate and stupid. Which is fine but who cares.
I haven’t been getting along with my father and I don’t know if it’s going to come back around which makes this week kind of special. I had booked Jason Reitman to do the show weeks ago and then out of nowhere I got the opportunity to interview his father Ivan Reitman two days later. It was endearing to talk to a successful director who is the son of another hugely successful director and hear the mutual respect and admiration they had for each other. I was envious. I’m putting both of those interviews up this week. Jason on Monday and Ivan on Thursday.
I’m flying, folks-