The World According to Landry & Summers.
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 21, 2009 at 6:51 PM||comments (0)|
Live Fast. Die Young. Have a Good Looking Corpse.
For those who still watch black and white movies, it is from the film "Knock on any door" with Humphrey Bogart.
This phrase is becoming horribly apropos in the Entertainment Industry today. It is as though part of your career is dying young to be remembered for the few movies you can get out before you are found half naked in bed or in a shower.
And in a lot of cases, Young hollywood forgot the whole "Good Looking Corpse" Thing.
When Brittney Murphy was found dead in her shower at age 32 of a "Heart Attack" not more than a day after people from Hollywood came flying out of the wood works on this woman's "Lifestyle" Perez Hilton saying that this woman was "Next" not more than a few week before she was dead.
Well guess what Mr. Hilton and all the sycophants who surrounded her: I blame you for this. I blame you for watching this woman crumble onto herself. Yes, I blame her. But accountability is a big plate to be dished out.
You watched her collapse. Congratulations Mr. Perez. You stood idly by to call the death and did nothing to try to prevent it.
Her close circle of friends not doing a god damn thing to not have this woman kill herself at 32 years old. You saw it coming? You are just as "Clueless" as her to let this happen.
No one forced this woman into the lifestyle she decided to take. The Surgery inducing/legal prescription pain killers/party all night while tweeting half stoned that ispopular with the young entertainment industry. It makes for great blogging.
As much as she seemed like a nice enough lady? *This should be aLESSON learned* Young Hollywood needs a damn intervention right now. How many more of your own are you willing to watch die? Who is going to step up to this? When will Perez Hilton stop "Calling who is going to kick it" and maybe be brave enough to say "Hey, I wish you stop doing what you are doing" instead?
When will Ashton put down his iphone, or whatever he continually tweets from and wonder how many other of his acting partners are going down this road?
See you on the other side was what he wrote on Twitter. Ashton, Ms. Murphy is dead. I'm almost positive she can no longer read your Tweets. I hope at some point you sent her a direct with the words "OMG, Stop doing this 2 urself."
Who will be the one to drag the next Hollywood starlet out of the dance club and get them some damn help? Who is going to raid the Chateau Hotel Drug Room and get their precious baby away from the needle?
When will someone scream to the next up and coming Murphy: Your body of work ends when you are DEAD! And you will be remembered the same way as Belushi and Farley and the ones before you: A good actor who was an addict. That is your legacy. An addict who died half naked.
A wonderful actress named Jennifer Jones died a few days before Murphy at age 90. A long and wonderful career. Movies that are far more substantial and endearing. Her death went relatively unnoticed.
Brittany Murphy kills herself and the Entertainment world is up in arms. From current pictures of her, she looked like a wax museum version of herself. For some reason, there needs to be a small reality check here. Murphy's death is tragic in its sheer stupidity. It is thedeath that comedians make fun of. It is the stuff that if a non Hollywood person engaged in, it would be listed as Darwin's Law.
It's intervention time, Young Hollywood. I'm begging you, Young Hollywood: Stop killing yourselves.
We would like you to live to 90 instead of wondering what else you could have done if you only lived to 40.
If this means nothing to you? I just saw a picture of Ernest Borgnine with my friend Kevin McShane. Keep this in mind:
Ernest Borgnine looks better than most of you coke'd out outrageously thin, collagen injected 24 year olds doing 8 balls in the back of a movie premier. And, he's outliving you too. This man has lived long enough to not only have an incredible body of work? He has lived long enough to see Murphy, Belushi, Farley, Ledger, Phoenix and Jackson be born and kill themselves
Clean up and live long enough to prove me *wrong*
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 8, 2009 at 6:17 PM||comments (0)|
Today in Los Angeles, the weather is 54 Degrees and Sunny. I have been living here since May.
Okay people who are from here or have lived here for a very long time...*I get it* You are cold.
This is sunny hot Los Angeles. It's fifty four degrees and you have either never seen it get this cold, or you have forgotten how cold it could really be.
I have been here since May. I have not forgotten. And unfortunately my body has not forgotten either.
This is where age plus weather equals Grumpy Old Person Rant.
Buck up kids. It is bright, sunny and 54 degrees. The only thing you need to ever bitch about in this city if you have the urge is earthquakes and fires. That shit is scary and could possibly kill you. 54 degree weather means you can finally sport the cool scarf you got once upon a time when you went back home to your hometown (or you just bought) and not look too much like a doofus to people on the East Coast.
And keep this in mind: What you think is freezing cold weather? Well, from what I remember from US Weather patterns: The cold and rain we get is the negative weather and unbearable amount of snow that shows up two days later on the other side of the country.
Or at least, this is what I always figured happened when I saw rain and cold on the West Coast. It always seemed to happen. The weather front getting colder and colder...heading towards us and if we were really unlucky? Mixing with the damn Canadian Front.
So be happy. Go outside and stare at the sun and the mild temps and laugh your asses off that you do not live in Elkhart, Indiana.
Our 54 degrees and rain is someone else's coming out to their car and seeing that it looks like a snow nipple.
For me, yes I get it. Eventually in a year of so my Facebook and Twitter updates will probably contain words like "WTF its COLD" or "Need Scarf, shit, its 53 degrees!"
Unfortunately I'm not there yet. I'm at transplanted Old person Grumpy Weather Rant Stage.
The Rant Stage where I waggle my imaginary walking cane from my imaginary wheelchair and go:
"I used to see guys with frozen eyebrows carrying my flute back and forth in the snow"
"My mamma made me wrap my feet in plastic then socks then boots! Ever sleep on an International Harvester Bus outside of a prison in Michigan under four blankets wishing the company dog was there to keep your frozen ass warm?".
"Shit when I was younger I remember wishing that Black History Month fell in fucking August so my Black Improv Comedy Company was not freezing balls off in Minneapolis! You kids have it good!"
"Ever wake up to the sounds of rushing water in The SOMA dreaming you are on a river and looking down at your Garden Apartment floor from your bed and seeing toilet tissue float by, realizing you ARE IN A FUCKING RIVER? Wishing 'FUCK! I wish this fucking town got SNOW instead of THIS in the wintertime!'"
*wheeze* "54 Degrees and Sunny in December. We only DREAMED...." *WHEEZE GAG* "Fuck! Someone roll me over to my inhaler!"
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 5, 2009 at 3:11 PM||comments (1)|
Tut April 1986 - December 5th 2009
Stereotypical Grieving Cat Owner #302 - Your dreams about your animals is a look into future events.
Thursday Night: After getting home from The Ducks/Beaver Game I was not feeling particularly well. I love Avocadoes. They do not love me. So the mix of delicious "Quakamole" and Oregon Beer tasting with a hit of Sake left me pretty bad off and in pain that night. When I finally got the heating pad out for myself and fell asleep.
I dreamt that Tut was a tiny, tiny baby. Super dreamlike mouse small. For some reason, miniature Tut somehow got on top of our kitchen sink and jumped into a sink filled with water and was drowning.
I pulled him out of the water and tried to save him. He came around and for some reason a bucket of water popped into the kitchen and he jumped into that. I was so horrified in my dream as I tried to save tiny Tut again...and was horrified to tell Hans what had happened.
That Friday morning, Hans as usual asked me how I slept. No lie and on a stack of bibles I told him this very vivid dream.
Tut seemed perfectly fine. By four late afternoon his hind legs went out from under him. It was pretty fast. He could not walk. He was drooling. We had no idea what to do. I got online to find an emergency pet hospital.
As I was driving (and Hans holding Tut) I said out loud: Why did I have that dream? I could not stop crying. "I felt that my dream was prelude to all of this"
Stereotypical Grieving Number #15 - You will spend everything you have to save your animal.
We get him to the hospital. His hind legs are not functioning. His mouth is wide open trying to breathe. We take him in and tell him his age.
As usual, everyone was stunned that his base year of birth is April 1986.
They take him in the back and start doing a full workup. Everyone in this place are possibly the nicest people in the world. I have not seen this much incredible animal care....ever.
Unfortunately with incredible animal care comes incredible animal cost. They want to keep in for three to four days. They show us the x-ray. His bowels had stopped functioning and his was nothing but fecal matter. They could have gone in and try to figure out what was going on...but the diagnosis that our twenty four year old cat had a stroke.
The three day cost of keeping tut there? 2,000 low end. 5,000 high. A down payment of 1,200 dollars.
We just stare at each other. Time to get the Care Credit again. I said Hans "This is as close to a child we will ever have...so we can consider this Emergency College Tuition Down Payment.
We call to re-apply for the Care Credit (as when we paid off the original card early with the interest free they offered did not use it for six months and then they cancelled it).
They denied us coverage. We stare at each other. We don't know what to do. We don't have nearly that kind of money in our account.
....and imagine calling your family to ask for 1,200 for a 24 year old cat. Even in severe stereotypical state of Grieving Cat Owner there is that is that "My god...I'm asking for this much money to loan for a cat"
But I called anyway. I called a few people ending with the woman who originally gave us the most joy we could ever have had in 24 years: My sister Angel. No one has this sort of money around Christmas. I so know this. Angel was wonderful but it was completely understandable that she could not do it.
So there we are. We don't know what to do. The doctor comes out and gives us another option and an update on Tut: He is still unresponsive, he cannot move, and what they can offer is 24 hours of fluids and Critical Care to see if he is anymore responsive.
The cost of that? 600 dollars down payment.
We roll the dice. Our rent check has not gone through. We figure we can stop payment on the check, call up our apartment manager and incur the wrath of six months of cashiers checks and the sixty dollars late fee.
One more night. One more night of life. We stop payment on our rent check.
We get home and call our manager Vaughn. He stays on the phone with me as he is a two cat owner and knows what sort of pain we are currently going through. He says he has a resource to take Tut somewhere a little less expensive. On the phone with him I send him an email to remind him. He is wonderful. The best apartment manager we officially ever had.
This morning we get online to Hans account. Turns out that both the rent check *and* the 600 went through at the same time. Both cleared. So instead of reaping the doom of six months of cashiers check...Hans account is overdrawn by a number that makes us officially feel we are lucky we are not homeless and have food in the fridge.
Hans want to give away our entire video collection. For Tut. We are both Stereotypical Grieving Cat Owners.
Stereotypical Grieving Cat Owner #2 - Euthanasia as a liberal sounds all wonderful, fine and dandy. until you have to put your own cat to sleep.
This morning I pop up wide awake at 8:40am. I shake Hans and say "We need to get up for Tut".
Three minutes later the vets call. Please refer to #302
The vets tell us he is no better and is just not moving or trying to move at all. I start crying. We have to put our 24 year old cat down. No amount of explanation can explain the emotional pain tha can come from this. It is the same feeling of seeing my Grandmom for the last time.
After getting dressed (and after the shock to our bank account) we head to see Tut for the last time. Please refer to #15 in the comfort of them holding onto our check for 45 days for the final payment and the Euthanasia procedure.
We wait for them to bring Tut to us in the "Little Room". Seemed like a lifetime.
They finally bring him in. He just looks like he is resting. His eye are completely dilated. he cannot move. I imagined he would look horrible Thin. Frail. The way my grand mom looked when I saw her alive for the last time.
No. He looked like he was just resting.
This is where I was wondering if there was anyway we could save him and why the hell we need to put him down, and though we officially have less money than guys with carts in front of Second City...who we could call....where could we take him that will bill us...
Please refer to all the numbers.
I hold onto his hind legs and squeeze to see if we get any response. No tail movement. No movement at all. His Hind legs were cold. Our 24 year old cat has had a stroke.
We stay with Tut and we pet him. he moves his little paws around my hand. He squeezes a little. I cannot stand it. I cried so hard it hurt every part of my body. I have not seen Hans cry since his Dad.
We are losing our twenty four year old son. That is Grieving Cat Owner #1
After a long while we get the doctor back in. He asks us if we wish to be there for the procedure. We both say "God No". No. no. no. We feel like we are killing our cat. We cannot be witness to it. The guilt is just too much.
We say our final goodbye's I pick up the comfy little hollow pillow he is in and hand him to the doctor...she backs out so we can see him...I go over and say "I love you, Tut"
And he lets out a small meow. A meow. A meow that sounds surprisingly like "Goodbye"
Everyone in that room (including the doctor) went OH NO! And I ran up to Tut and kissed him goodbye again.
And he was gone. My cat is gone. My little boy. The closest I will ever have to a child in my lifetime if I never adopt. I cannot imagine ever having another animal again.
I cannot imagine another cat who comes when you call that eats chips. That plays "Tut Wrestling" that has moved from Chicago to Seattle to Chicago to San Francisco and finally here without any skin off his nose. That taps you like "Uh...excuse me...I'm the cat...some love over here"
That has slept with so many improvisers who have crashed on our couch over the last twenty four years. A cat who was so friendly that a drunken improviser during SFIF said and I do quote "I LOVE THIS CAT! I THINK I WILL FUCK IT!"
Me asking him to please not have drunken sex with my cat, and of course wondering what was wrong with him not choosing me instead.
That every time he walks in...it always sounded like he was saying "Hello" Seeing Hans sound asleep and Tut on his stomach curled up like a baby.
We are two former Indifferent cat people who are now Grieving Cat Owners of a cat who made us this way as we feel was the best cat in the world.
If anyone wants to see us power through a show at 10:30pm tonight, please come and raise one for tut and buy us one.
Please refer to #15
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 3, 2009 at 5:06 PM||comments (0)|
Come down and support this weekend!
The Second City That Never Sleeps is a 24-hour improv performance by some of Los Angeles's finest improv/sketch comics to benefit a scholarship fund for the kids of Hollywood Arts, a homeless service provider and education center serving 18-25 year-olds in Hollywood.
Special guests and acts will be peppered throughout, featuring veterans of shows such as Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, MTV's Wild N Out, Current Television, iO, UCB, Groundlings, Second City, SNL, FrankTV, Reno 911, 30 Rock, The Office, Daily Show, Chocolate News, According To Jim, Heroes, Lie To Me and Parks And Recreation, musical acts, a reunion of MTV's WildNOut improvisers, and an improv jam with performers from Groundlings, Second City, UCB, and iO.
Also including raffle prizes from The Colbert Report, 30 Rock and more!
Come for a 3-hour block for $15, come and go as you like all 24 hours for $25. 100% of proceeds go to help the great kids of Hollywood Arts.
Go to www.etix.com for advance sales.
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 2, 2009 at 5:31 PM||comments (0)|
From The Casting Thingy Four posting straight in a row.
What are they looking for? Actors with incredible Meisner skills? Actors who have experience in Stanislavsky techniques? Someone with a great grasp of Physical Comedy.
Oh no. If you are an actor with the following, you can get work today :
Fuck. I don't even know what the last two syndromes are. Apparently, they don't either as there is not a full description for them.
So I'm just thinking the worst case scenario for both of them. And no...not that you can't stop doing an accent or throwing up the Live Long and Prosper sign.
I think you have to have a severe hatred for people with Foreign Accents and people who like Science Fiction. You must have had current encounters with these people and beaten the shit out of them. You must have at least stalked someone from France and followed at least one Cos Play Vulcan home from Comicon.
It's all just unbelievable. Still. I just write my rant on fucking Hoarders. Now, they are trotting out the diseases and looking for them on a casting site.
My douchbaggery sense of humor wonders how the hell half of the people listed above can even find their way to this casting thingy. They either cannot stay awake long enough to submit to it, they are too busy doing Google Searches of the man/woman their ex is now dating or they are trying to figure out the password to the laptop they just ripped off.
When did professional actors start wishing they could put "Sneak Thief" in their special skills for these people? Will actors have to put up a Skill Clip of the video of sneaking into your ex's house to kill all of his goldfish?
It's becoming its own genre. Forget the term Reality Television. It is Disease T.V: Watch people with actual diseases get trotted in front of your television so you can feel better about not having a language tick, uncontrollable body movements, the inability to stay awake or moving on from a former lover...or wishing you were not from this country.
And with all due respect, the last one I might be able to submit for.
If this is the current television options in this country to watch? I don't mind pretending I have a bad Jamaican accent and disowning this country. It might give me actual joy to get onto a Disease T.V. show with a Jamaican accent and explain why I'm doing it:
"I do dis man, to protest ahnd prove dat Ahmericans are willing to watch any-ting."
|Posted by landryandsummers on December 1, 2009 at 11:19 AM||comments (0)|
I don't wish to be a part of it.
This request sounds completely reasonable to me. I think not one single person is all over crashing someone's AA or drug intervention. I don't think you would be that gun ho to just pop into a big 'You got a gambling problem" meeting of someone you don't even know.
This is what I was thinking as I turned the station away from the show Hoarders.
Oh, I watched the first fifteen minutes of the show where the mother had trashed the place so badly that they took the husband out of the place as he needed around the clock care for his downward mental spiral from abusive drunk to Paranoid Schizo.
Sure, I got the gist that it seems noone (including her strangely mentally deficient children) could gather: Her life is a living hell and she has replaced love with piles and piles of shit she cannot let go of.
So now here they are with a crew of people trying to save her home and get her husband back into the house. You can tell in her face that she would prefer to live in a sea of her own poo before taking this guy back. The distant children are all bawing about how she loves her piles of shit more than she loves them, and wants to finally save her.
...Why. THE. FUCK is a nation of cable watchers also privvy to this insanity? What? To make us feel better about ourselves? Because we really do love this sort of a train wreck? Because our capacity for incredible scripted drama seems to have corroded to this?
Can we only enjoy drama if it feels like we have been priviledged to watch a real televised intervenention of drunks, addicts, theives and hoarders that are not written on the page, but instead found somewhere in the backwaters of Georgia or the studio apartment of someone in Rhode Island?
After fifteen minutes watching Hoarders on Cable Television, I said what I probably would have said if I was standing next to these people in the backyard of this trashed home: "I don't know you people" Why am I watching this from the trash heap of your backyard. I would prefer you do this within your own family and with local authorties than dragging my ass into the horror that is apparently your life.
Except I said it in my own pretty clean and arranged apartment and added "and a couple million people" to "Dragging my ass"
Interventions are for the people and loved ones involved. I'm tired of "Point and shoot the bullshit" television.
If I want to watch Hoarders on television? I can watch a few hours of Oscar on The Odd Couple and then take a gander of The Beverly Hillbillies home.
At least I know that I will never actually run into these fictional characters. And if I ever did I get the distinct feeling they would be a lot more fun than the real life version of these people.
|Posted by landryandsummers on November 22, 2009 at 7:06 PM||comments (0)|
Storytelling can really invoke audience response
We ask for a relationship topic. Tonight for the first time doing this show we got sex. Yes, one would assume we would get this suggestion over and over again. I think when you got the name fucking embedded in the show you think you get it more.
The closest we have gotten to the idea of sex without saying it is "Infidelity" given to us by my other improv partner Kevin McShane.
I say to the woman who gave it to me "But of course!" and beat poetry it out.
I took the history of a relationship with sex with a partner from the moment they start fucking to the moment he dies. It began with the over intense fucking and being able to smell everything about him when he is not there (on your pillow). It ends when you are older and he dies and yet you can still smell him on your pillow and you still have those memories. Those fond memories of fucking him.
It went from loud recognition laughter to the audience letting out the best emotional response from an audience right behind laughter: ahh's and a rush of applause.
I'm convinced. Completely and honestly convinced that the best improvisational theater I would like to watch has some sort of substance. Some sort of Storytelling and relationship substance. Something that makes the audience think and smile and laugh at the same time.
I'm glad we could do that for one night at the top of our show.
Wonders if anyone will use that real Apple Graham Cracker pie recipe I told onstage.
I just want someone to come back and tell me how it turned out.
Watching Hans rant onstage is like watching the making of an office shooter.
"HOW LOW DO YOU HAVE TO SINK TO FUCK AN ACCOUNTANT!"
"BY THE WAY? SHE LIKES IT UP THE BUTT!!"
- Hans Summers in a room full of office workers with me stunned to silence.
The lights went out and I personally had to rush off the stage to start laughing myself.
Using old terminology and calling yourself out on it is just silly
"I will be out in two shakes of a lambs tail (pause) and who says THAT SHIT anymore"
- Me in the window to come out on the porch to Hans.
Circle Voices with our love of boxing will eventually come in handy onstage
Hans and I are known for our jazz top opening and end. By the end of our show last night he starts making a breathy sound that you can hear on the documentary "When They Were Kings"
(Six Minutes in talking about the Succubus)
This is the soundthat Hans did at the end with me putting the words Sex underneath. It was wonderful to play with that very African driven sound. And, it iscoming out of Hans.
I missed a light/sound person who really feels he is part of the show
Tonight we got from J.D. music. During our improvised "Holiday Seasonal Office Party" He threw on The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.
I cannot remember the last time a sound person took a risk like that forus. I heard the music come out of the speakers and I was so happy! I blurted out to Hans "LETS DANCE!"
Jesus Christ. Doors. Windows. Side wings. A light guy who throws on appropriate music to underscore a scene when you don't have a piano player. I'm having the *best time at the Second City Los Angeles*
Movie HD video takes a long ass time to upload on a server
But damnit..we have this show on tape! Thank you Pam We are forever in your debt.
We do not have a show Thanksgiving weekend!
Hurray for us! We get to enjoy Thanksgiving! Because we are married. And we like to be thankful with food and to sleep that off the entire weekend.
|Posted by landryandsummers on November 15, 2009 at 11:30 PM||comments (0)|
That my husband can tell real stories about his and our lives if it is masked as a character and not as himself.
Find one physical move/sound. Heighten until fully realized and play forever with her.
There is something about a real door. A real door where your scene partner is behind it and you are privledged to physically open the door. Opening the door and there he is. Non Scripted entrance. Creating your own blocking and stage picture. With real stage doors. aaaah. I love the small things.
The idea you never have to struggle when you are so incredibly comfortable with the person you are onstage with.
Two weeks in a row I have been invited to two parties after the show...and now I think I have the "Improviser Party" stink on me. Spent a bit going "These last two weeks are NOT NORMAL"
I love how people are afraid to say the name of our show. I love it even more when I say it and people just start busting up laughing as though it is outrageously naughty and yet there is some glimpse of *truth*: The idea that a duo improv ensemble of a male and female have to be fucking. I have to admit. It is a conversation starter. Our glimpse of truth is simple: Yeah. We ARE Fucking.
I await our next glimpse of truth Comedy Show: Landry & Summers: He is a clean freak and she is a goddamn pig.
|Posted by landryandsummers on November 8, 2009 at 2:15 PM||comments (0)|
|Posted by landryandsummers on November 4, 2009 at 4:34 AM||comments (0)|
Today people are shocked...just shocked mind you...about what just occurred in Maine.
Someone on Facebook said when the law in Maine was overtunerd: I'm sick of The Obama Administration's Homophobia.
Forget the idea that he is the first sitting president who has ever openly try to support the GLBT community. Fuck that. This cat is sick of The Obama Administration's Homophobia.
You know, fuck that ten year thing that happened called "The Bush Administration." That whole trying to make it Nationally Illegal.
Forget about all of that. That is so 2005.
Today on my twitter (jokingly or not) this what was typed from the mitts of an improviser. The last time I checked, he was not part of the Obama Administration:
...got pimped into kissing a dude.. ahh improv hazing. didn't touch lips tho, thank god for the black out.
I'm basically sick of Homophobia.
This is a man, who apparently considers himself an improviser, thinks that kissing a man is "Improv Hazing" and was incredibly pleased that no bodily fluids or touching happened on an improv stage between two men for fear that people might think he was Gay or he would have to scream "NO HOMO NO HOMO" if the black out did not occur.
I fucking wish the blackout never happened. I wish he had to stand there and not only be an actor making up "Make Believe" But take the job of being an improviser without having to get on twitter and and call it the sophomoric college term of "Hazing" (Which by the way...Traditional Hazing consists of basically getting the shit beat out of you, which I'm sure this guy would have preferred instead of being kissed by a man).
No folks. You can't stop Homophobia, until you nip the Homophobic shit at the base level: Not being afraid of gay people or being considered gay yourself.
Mr. "Missing the Bullet of Being The Gay Improviser" right afterwards posts:
old people on facebook has provided a lot of unintentional comedy.
Well, Young, I don't know how much of a Homophobe I sound like on Twitter has provided me with a lot of intentional calling you a jackhole....
Wee! "Dodged The Gay" onstage! Congrats!
Yea Improv Twitterhomophobia dude, You jumped into the Gay Deep end and waded your Super Strength Straight ass back to the "Shallow End"
It would have been so bad if you got improv kissed by a dude. Thanks for the Twit. Let me just scroll pass that to the Twitter of the friend who has been trying to marry his partner for the last fifteen years and knows they are being treated like a second class citizen.
Hold up. Let me Unfollow you so I can not be interrupted by the Twitter posts from News Organizations with links to people saying that Gay Men and Women should burn in hell.
And if none of that phases you let me just sit here and think what a lame ass actor you are for not being able to deal with any physical contact onstage without help from the lightguy...because dude I have had my fucking nipple bitten onstage in an improv scene. My boobs grabbed and fondled. My ass slapped loudly. Man up...
Yea. I'm sick of Homophobia.
Now people are complaining about The Obama Administration.
Yes, its good to do that. Be mad about what he promised. But before we focus on an administration we need to start changing some minds and continue to do this on a regular and consistent basis and not when props and laws are being passed.
Cleve Jones repeated what Harvey Milk said on Maddow's show tonight: If people came out and really took a stand? It would be amazing how much minds would change.
Sure you can be mad at Obama. You need to be doubly mad at the people who voted against it. Be perturbed that casual homophobia is just a nice breeding ground for hate.
And sorry...I'm a little miffed that the people who are for Gay Marriage only seem to organize this strongly when a vote is in order.
It needs to be constant. On the street. Protesting everywhere. Not supporting organizations that do not support basic civil rights. Sit ins. Constant and continual. Going out and changing minds. Education on the GLBT Community. Gay Religious leaders preaching constantly and continuously. It worked before. The community needs to do this.
I'm sick of seeing Teabaggers with guns out in full view getting media attention. It is now time to get angry. Remember when I tried to play nice after the loss of California?
Oh fuck no. It's on.
It's time to march on Washington. That's right. It's now time for our African American President to remember exactly what a Civil Rights Protest looks like.
It's now time too, for improvisers to start not only walking the walk from only a year past? But actually be an actor too.
I hope to never see another dumbass Twitter like the one I saw today. Instead I hope to hear this:
"Today I did an improv scene where we played gay lovers and it was one kick ass scene. I'm so damn glad the lightguy trusted us and let us play the entire scene out."
I don't care what improv guy we are talking about: The introverted freak with all of his books (not just comics ALL OF THEM) in mylar and backerboards wearing the ironic hipster T-Shirt of a band he does not have in his IPOD...to the improv guy who is so head high in poon when he is not onstage...he does not know what to do with himself.
If we are dealing in sterotypes here....
Let's change some minds with how we approach shit yall. You can still be on the edge while doing the shit.