Fan Love 24/7 Show!

This show is going to be literally superb! Hope you can make it out and larf it up! Tons of great acts and it's free because we love our fans... and had an extra Sunday on our hands.

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My Kids Are Maddening and the Maple Syrup Mystery.

My kids are maddening. They're very bad kids. I have about five or six of 'em. I don't even know all their names cause I try to shut them out of my life. Pretend they don't bother me. Pretend they don't exist.

Okay, I think if I had to spout their names from memory, they're like, Harry, Marlboro, Camel, Grapefruit Juice, Pinocchio's Butt, And Mr. Mohawk. I don't know. I don't care. All they ever want from me is jumbo hot dogs and stories about liquor store burglars.

I had these kids with this insanely hot redhead girl named, Strawberry Johnson. She was the love of my life but she died when Mr. Mohawk was born, right after she saw his mohawk. Yes, I hold that against Mr. Mohawk.

She was the sexiest fox I ever banged over and over, but she was a wild one too. She was in a Butthole Surfers cover band. I think that's where the kids get it from. Her Father was president of Byron's Maple Syrup, so she was rich, and so was the Maple syrup! Ever hear of it?

When I met her, she was sawing off a dead goats leg so that she could make it into a lamp. I saw her butt crack sticking out of her jeans as she bent over. I asked her if she wanted to come with me to the beach. She did. That's when we started making kids.

But now she's dead and I got all these little hellions creeping around my house acting like burglars, smashing windows, hiding in liquor cabinets, and calling me, "Daddy-cakes."

They know they get my goat cause they intentionally push my buttons all the time. For example, I'll be having my morning coffee and one of them will look right at me as he smushes a banana into his hair. Pure disrespect.

Or Sometimes when I'm trying to cook a couple jumbo dogs for the brats, They'll get up on the kitchen counter, pour the boiling pot of water onto my head and then smush the jumbo dogs into their hair.
That's why my face is so messed up... from how many times it's been burned by pots of boiling water.

One time I'll never forget is when I had a new woman I was trying to woo over to my house. Her name was, Isabella. She was incredibly hot- stacked in the T and A department. Not only could you set a drink down on her butt, but you could sit on her butt and drink your drink.

Anyway, the kids were supposed to be asleep and nope, they weren't. They came sneaking down the stairs like a bunch of professional liquor store burglars and hid behind the couch where Isabella and I were sitting. I was trying desperately to plant my face right between Isabella's lovely jugs. She wanted more small talk first and, okay ladies, I understand that now. I do. I get it. I told her the story of when I went sailing in a sailboat that had a wasp's nest in it. That softened her up.

While I was making my moves, my kids, being the maddening creeps they were, as quietly as they could, cut little holes in the couch with a window cutter and robbed us blind. They took turns reaching into the holes and grabbing items out of Isabella's purse, they took her necklace, her rings, my wallet, my flask of Gin, and my pocket watch that I stole from a grave. Then they snuck to the garage, grabbed a bucket of varnish, snuck back to the living room, and dumped the varnish onto Isabella's head. I did not get some that night. I screamed in horror and Isabella ran out of the house, soaked with dripping sticky varnish running down her face and staining her prom dress. For some reason she wore her old prom dress. Maybe so the moment could be more Carrie-ish? My kids were squealing with giddy laughter, jumping up and down on the couch with their little balaclavas on.

So, anyway, I'm looking to get rid of these dicks. I'd give them to Mr. Byron Johnson, Strawberry's Father, but he drowned in a vat of maple syrup a year ago. It was a very mysterious circumstance. Some people whisper to themselves that he was murdered. Other people suppose that he plunged himself into the syrup out of despair.

They did an autopsy on his body after they fished it out of the vat and discovered that he had been eating buttermilk pancakes right before he died. They also discovered a ladle in his mouth. They also found a plate beside his loafers on the walkway above the vat. On the plate there was bacon, twelve grain whole wheat toast- buttered and grape jellied, two hard-bolied eggs, some strawberries, cantaloupe, and pineapple. There were also bits of pancake on the plate. Right next to where his jacket and scarf were piled on the walkway they discovered a fresh mug of coffee, a coffee machine, some freshly squeezed orange juice in a glass, and a Jack Lalanne Power juicer. They also found an open copy of that day's newspaper. A few meters down the walkway they found a bed, some ruffled sheets, rumpled pillows, and a scrunched up down duvet. There was an alarm clock on a bedside table placed beside a copy of, Totally Pancakes and Waffles Cookbook, by Helen Seigel.

Now you tell me, murder or suicide?

My Heart Attack.

A couple of nights ago, while I was doing some hammering in my backyard, I had a heart attack.
My life flashed before my eyes and I thought; you know, my life's been pretty good so far. If I was to die right now... it was an alright trip- This thing called life.

I lived to be Forty-Five.

I've got a beautiful red-headed wife and some children to inherit all of my money.

I got to eat a lot of different types of cheeseburgers.

I got to pet a shark on the nose in Bermuda.

I got to lay on a hot beach.

Just me and God's hot beach and clear blue ocean.

I've got the most hats out of all my brothers.

I got to see some pretty ladies

I got to go on a skiing vacation.

I got to ski down a mountain.

Just me and God's mountain and clear blue sky.

I got to rent a pair of skis and poles.

I saw an older lady die at my church.

I got to drink a lot of beer.

I experienced a heart attack... which was crazy.

I love potato chips.

One of my friends is a pilot.

I've got a fur coat for men.

I got to paint a picture of my Dad.

I got to eat a lot of food from all over the world. Here in this city and in Bermuda and Aspen, Colorado.

I was shown on the local news one time when my friends and I were eating chicken wings.

I got to eat all kinds of chicken wings.

I got to experience a day where I thought everyone looked the same.

I suffered from exhaustion.

I had a nice dog.

Ways to tell that your banana has the flu.

Yes, that's right. I've compiled ALL the ways to tell that your banana has the flu.

1. It coughs when you peel it.

2. It's covered in beads of cold sweat.

3. It's covered in rancid chocolate.

4. It complains about the sundae you put it in being too hot and you're like, "What? No way, it's really cold.".

5. It just wants to stay in bed and watch episodes of Futurama all day.

6. It turns the health shake in your blender into a silent but deadly fart.

7. It won't take it's scarf off in the house.

8. It smushes itself.

Better Weather Small-Talk.

I fear that weather small-talk with strangers is in danger of becoming an extremely harmful custom in our modern civilized life. It's threateningly tedious. If something doesn't change soon, stranger on stranger violence will start popping up more frequently in office building elevators and submarine sandwich restaurants. Picture the latter where strangers are forced to stand and wait beside each other forever watching these artists place a few strands of shredded lettuce onto a measly sliver of sliced turkey breast. You're in this line and your nerves are shot. Now imagine that sandwich maker to ease the anxiety, offers, "Not as hot out today as it was in the Summer." It's enough to make anyone smash a nose-bone up into a brain. One swift move that guarantees instant death.
Just a week ago I was in a full elevator where I witnessed a fellow uttering the phrase, "Man, it's a cold one out there." The seething tension that arose in that metal box was enough to consider applying for some sort of cheap self-defense class. I'm talking YMCA cheap.
In order to quell this recent concern I've proposed a new way to look at common small-talk ice-breakers and maybe add some modern contemporary jazz to them. Sort of like what Branford Marsalis did for John Coltrane's stagnant farts. I still really enjoy the weather theme, I just think that if we could take the weather talk up a notch and make it more exciting, then strangers would rather enjoy meeting one another more in say, a crowded bus, or a long line-up for the Body World exhibit. The following are three examples of upping the weather small-talk ante: 

1. "Is there a flood outside?"
- Whether there's a flood or not, you're talking about something cool like floods destroying villages. It can even break off into a whole discussion on Dams you guys know about that reside just above a vulnerable village? Maybe even talk about beavers? The GOOD kind of beavers- not the gross ones. 
- Maybe your new friend has lost someone they loved dearly to a flood? That actually applies to any extreme weather discussions by the way. You never know what neat little personal nuggets you can get out of a stranger by reminding them of a tragedy.
- Let's not also forget how the two of you can instantly bond by imagining having to live in boats for the rest of your lives.

2. "I hope there's not a Tornado out there today."
- This is a good one because everyone always hopes that there's not a Tornado out there any day. It's ferocious, devastating, and it's responsible for so many dogs getting stuck on rooftops. There they are, stranded, barking helplessly for hours while their owners search desperately for that cigar box of receipts they've saved all year for the tax man. 
-Tornados are also a great ice-breaker because what's that one famous Tornado our thoughts go to every time we hear that sinister word? The Wizard of Oz! Everyone's always secretly dying to discuss whether you really can see a midget hanging himself in the background of that one scene or not. My personal opinion is that it is a midget hanging himself on the set and it is because of a personal heartbreak that he could just not recover from.

3. "I just felt a little tremor there, maybe it's an Earthquake?"
- Earthquakes are a great way to get people thinking about whether there's really a Hell or not. Who doesn't think of the ground opening up beneath them and falling into a deep red lava soup. Does that lava come from hell? This could be a good discussion starter. I do advise you to stay away from the topic of Religion itself that can arise from discussing Hell and rather focus more on the ideas of a demon-man whipping your back for being so bad. Because no matter what people believe in, they still never want to die and find that they've been banished to a red hot eternal  guilt-trip.
- If you start talking about the straight ahead facts of Earthquakes then you'll be talking about how it's the Earth's tectonic plates moving. And you guys were standing on those tectonic plates exactly like how a surfer stands on their surfboard. You and your new friend will feel pretty cool talking about California's most bodacious sport and you'll also feel a lot more confident knowing that every day you're surfing on the planet. Hang Ten, everyone!
- Remember that Earthquake in Ghostbusters? Now you're talking about Ghostbusters. That movie is so good that most undoubtably, not only will you hit it off with that stranger but you'll more than likely also end up banging them. Now isn't that ultimately why we all initially start talking to each other anyways? Thank me later when you're cleaning all that goo off of your crotch.

You're in that submarine sandwich line now and you've invigorated weather small-talk by beelining right to chaos and destruction. No one got hurt because everyone was standing in line reacting with gasps of, "Imagine that!" "I would be so scared if something like that ever happened to me or my family" and, "Hey, I'm surfing on the planet!" You've all bonded now, laughed and cried, and you're ready to say goodbye to your new friends and go sit down somewhat near them and bite into your delicious long sandwich. I'm glad I may have saved the average boring day from irreparable violence. But seriously, think about this a lot

Top 5 excuses from the Modern Wife

Here are the Top 5 excuses a modern wife will give to get out of having sex with you.

1) Your toes are freezing. What are you, a dead body?

2) You stink. Why don't you have a shower. What are you, a dead body?

3) You're getting blood all over the bed. What are you, a dead body?

4) Harold, turn off the light. Harold? Harold? What are you, a dead body?

5) I'll give you a handjob but that's it.

You have just read the top 5 ways your wife can tell that she's in bed with a dead body.

LGH! Letters archives.

For those who know about or attend my live comedy show called, Let's Get Hot! in Toronto, you know I start off the show with joke letters to... hopefully... try and get the audience in the mood for what's ahead! I'm archiving them at the Let's Get Hot! website and recommend checking them out for a good larf!

Here's the link to the two latest editions:
Archive 1

Archive 2

This is what the beginning of the show looks like from an extreme angle:
Thanks Joe Fuda