Monthly Archives: August 2008

Love, Meg: Comedy has ris’n

Audience members, dismiss your fear;

let hope and joy succeed;

the joyful news with gladness hear:

“The Baldwins show is t’nite indeed!”

Comedy our only head;

now justice, mercy, reconciled,

he laughs who once was dead.

The promise is fullfilled.

Show Show Show Egg Show

9:30pm

2Nite

The PIT

Brett’s Corner

My wife and I have this rap-style ‘call-and-response’ thing we’ll randomly break into occasionally. One of us will just yell out, “When I say ‘Chicken,’ you say ‘Egg’! Chicken…?”

“Egg!”

“Chicken…?”

“Egg!”

Then the crowd goes wild, if there’s a crowd in our apartment, which is a studio.

Then Aerosmith comes out.

We’ve got a show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tonight!

9:30pm!

Peoples Improv Theater (154 W 29th)!

FREE ENTRANCE WITH YOUR ARRIVAL

Love, Meg: Derrida & The Baldwins dare to do the impossible

Our new form is call “The Deconstruction.”  It is inspired by the writings of Jacques Derrida. 

Excerpts from Deconstruction in a Nutshell: A Conversation with Jacques Derrida:

“Deconstruction in a nutshell?  Why, the very idea!”

“The very meaning and mission of deconstruction is to show that things–texts, institutions, traditions, societies, beliefs, [improv shows] and practices of whatever size and sort you need–do not have definable meanings and determinable missions…What is really going on in things, what is really happening is always to come.  Every time you try to stabilize the meaning of a thing to fix it in its missionary position, the thing itself, if there is anything at all to it, slips away.”

“Deconstruction is the relentless pursuit of the impossible, which means, of things whose possibility is sustained by their impossibility, of things which, instead of being wiped out by their impossibility, are actually nourished and fed by it.  Derrida says he like the old word “experience,” taken not in the traditional, dusty phenomenological sense, which means to perceive what presents itself, but rather when it is “dusted off” a little so that it can take on a deconstructive sense.”

“Then “experience” means running up against the limits of what can never be present, passing to the limits of the unpresentable and unrepresentable, which is what we most desire, namely, the impossible.”

Griggsness: Country song meanings

I was born into the world of country music.  But it can be tricky.  You never know if it will be a cool song or it could be offensive.  A while back the number one country song in the US was a little diddy called “These Colors Don’t Run.”  Should I listen to it?  It might have been a musical homage to the war in Iraq.  Or it might have been about an NFL team with a bad running game.

I’ve never heard the song to this day.

Salutations by Jen

I work with a woman, one of my bosses, who is married to a man who we’ll call Dan. Every day, Dan calls his wife at work, as good husbands tend to do. Sometimes he even calls two or three times in a day. I answer the phone calls that come in for this woman. So whenever her husband calls, one, sometimes two or three times a day, I have the pleasure of speaking with him. He’s a very nice person; he usually sounds cheerful and any husband who calls his wife during the day is probably nice.

There would be nothing out of the ordinary here, except that there is one noteworthy thing. And the noteworthy thing about when Dan calls his wife who is my boss is this: When he calls, whenever he calls, how ever many times a day he calls, he literally says exactly the same exact precise same thing to me with the exact same identical inflection and intonation every single time I answer the phone ever ever.

He says, “Hello this is Dan how are youuuuuu?” (Sort of all strung together as though it were all one word, with an emphasis on the uuuuuuu.) And then he says, “Is the boss around?”

Every. Single. Solitary. Time. Never. Once. Different. Without. Fail. You could set your clock to it.

“HellothisisDanhowareyouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu? >breath< Is the boss around?”

It boggles me.

The moral: Mix up your salutations. Because someone’s probably telling her friends about you.