There's been a lot of goofy articles written on the internet lately about me missing the UFC card in Montreal this weekend, speculating all sorts of silly reasons why I'm not going to be there, so I figured it would be a good idea if I cleared it up here. The only reason I'm not going to be there is because of a family obligation. I'm certainly not upset at the UFC, and I'm not quitting to start doing commentary for a rival organization. I've also heard some ridiculous shit about me having massive fallout with the UFC president Dana White, which couldn't be further from the truth. Dana is a very good friend of mine, and in the 7 years I've known him we've never even had a single disagreement. He's a controversial dude, and a wild motherfucker, but that's why he's the perfect president for the wildest sport in the world.
We met back in 2001 when Zuffa purchased the UFC, and he's the one that convinced me to do commentary after seeing how big a fan I am of the sport. I've seen this sport explode from relative obscurity to one of the most popular sports in the world, and if it weren't for Dana White, and massive balls of Lorenzo and Frank Fertitta this sport wouldn't be anywhere near as popular as it is now.
Lorenzo and Frank, the owners of the UFC risked an incredible amount of money, and were DEEP into the red on this investment when the success of the Ultimate Fighter TV show finally launched this sport into the public's awareness, and every fan on the planet owes them a debt of gratitude. They were literally everything this sport needed; they were true fans of the sport with the brains, money and balls to make it popular. On top of that, they're cool as fuck.
The UFC has been the greatest job outside of stand up that I've ever had by a long shot, and I look forward to every single event. The entire production crew and everyone associated with the organization are a pleasure to work with, and I love them all. So in closing, I'm not going anywhere, bitches! See you guys in may!
I do a lot of comedy shows the weekends that I do commentary for the UFC. Most of the crowds are great, but of course being that a lot of them are a little extra pumped up, and a little extra drunk, often times I get a few folks that want to participate in the show more than just laughing and enjoying themselves. The crowds in Columbus were awesome, and the shows were sold out days in advance, but of course we had a heckler or two that I thought you peeps might enjoy watching. A funny note - the guy at the end of the video with his shirt off - we ran into him at 3am after eating at steak and shake, he was stumbling through the streets, still shirtless, and his face was covered with blood. Someone probably decided he was an easy target and beat the fuck out of him. I’m not sure if he even knew it had happened. When we ran into him before we headed back to the hotel, and although his face was plastered with blood and snot, and he was still holding his arms up in the air in a combination victory/"boy am I fucked up" gesture. I was so fucking pissed that I forgot my camera, because that would have made the crowning addition to this blog. At least we got some good video. Enjoy!!
One of the coolest things from the psychedelic movement of the 60's that for some reason never really caught on with the mainstream is the isolation tank. It's an amazing invention by the late, great psychonaut John Lilly. He was trying to find a way to isolate the mind and the thoughts to be completely independent of the distraction of normal sensory input from the body- like touch, sound, sight, etc.
The idea being that if you could get away from all of the normal, natural signals and distractions your mind could function on a much deeper level. What he came up with is a tank filled with water that's heated to the same temperature as the surface of your skin, and it's got 800lbs of Epsom salts in it, so that you float on the surface of the water. The water is heated to the same temperature as your skin, so when you lay in it after a while you can't feel it. Your ears are under water so you don't hear anything, and when you close the lid of the tank you're in complete darkness. It's a really freaky feeling, and at first it's kind of hard to get comfortable. Your brain isn't used to the experience, so it'll start giving you "busy work" - making you think that you've got to itch your nose, or move your arm or something, but if you can just breathe and relax you can get past this stage. Once you learn to get comfortable it becomes amazing how clearly you can think and see things.
Being alone with your mind is a very odd feeling and it takes a while to get used to it. Outside of the isolation tank there's really no experience like it. There isn't another environment like it in the world; where you can go so quickly, so deeply into the human mind. It takes you to a place where it would take the average person many years of meditation to achieve a similar mind set, and it throws it at you right away. For some people it can be really unsettling in it's self-analytical effect. When there's nothing to distract you from your thoughts it's very difficult to ignore things that have been troubling you. Any aspect of your behavior or your life that you're unhappy with will be dragged out of the shadows of neglect and denial, and put on center stage with a giant spot light on it. If you're the type of person that is trying to evolve and grow, it's an amazing tool, but if you're the type of person that would rather go through life with blinders on it's going to give you a psychic beating.
I've had one for about 3 years now, and it's helped me tremendously. Initially I got the tank because I wanted to experience the psychedelic effects that I had heard it could bring, but at the time when I was thinking about that I was imagining wild, hallucinogenic visions. While it certainly can bring that, especially when you get really comfortable with the experience, another aspect that is just as psychedelic is the extreme introspection it provides.
It's fascinating, but it hasn't all been comfortable and fun. I've had quite a few experiences in there that were a little unsettling to say the least. In the long run though, it seems like those experiences are the ones that you really seem to grow from the most. For me, when I'm disappointed in my behavior, or the choices that I've made in my life the tank just makes those thoughts and memories so uncomfortable that it immediately makes me change my reaction to any future similar situations. When you're alone in the tank it's a different kind of being alone. It's the kind of alone that just doesn't let you bullshit yourself. If you were wrong, or off base about something, no matter how much you've been deluding yourself thinking that you were in the right, you're going to see the whole picture with crystal clear clarity when you get into that tank. You can just feel negative energy that you've caused or projected so clearly, and you can see how putting that kind of energy out there really is a choice, and it's not a choice that you have to make most of the time. You just have to approach it with that perspective. The tank makes me see how we often live our lives on the momentum of the past, constantly defining ourselves by how we have already behaved, constantly cycling through a pattern of pre-determined thoughts moving around on these pre-arranged tracks, instead of running our time on this planet through a well considered, best-case scenario approach.
"I want to live my life in a way that, were I not me, and I saw that behavior, it would inspire me to be a better person." I know that sounds like some hippy, trippy horseshit, but isn't it possible to live like that? Wouldn't it make the world a far nicer place to live if everyone came to the true realization that the only way to truly be happy in this life is if you're nice to other people? Because truly, that is the only way, and if you ask basically anyone in the world what he or she wants most in life, it's to be happy. Happy and in love, that's the best feelings life has to offer, and the only people that want anything other than that, are the kind of people that need happiness and love the most. The tank tries it's hardest to steer you in that direction.
The real problem with that kind of thinking, of course, is that the world is infested with morons and douche bags. Chances are I don't need to tell you that, because you're reading this on the greatest platform for scientific study of the common douche bag that has ever existed- the Internet. No generation in the history of humanity has had a better look at the common douche bag than this one. You think your grandfather knew what the fuck was up when he was 20? What he didn't learn from his neighborhood or see on "the Little Rascals" was all just speculation to him. They really had nothing else to go on. Back then kids didn't even know to avoid getting into a van with a clown. That move was actually still working 60 years ago. Your grandfather's knowledge of douche bags when he was 20 compared with the average college student of today, is like comparing what a blind man sees to a guy on mushrooms looking through a kaleidoscope.
Every fucking day I get a hundred or so links sent to me in the email, and 80% of them involve either a story, a picture, or a video of a douche bag in action. Douche bags from all over the world. There's soldiers throwing a puppy off a cliff, men stoning a young girl to death because she was in love with a boy from the wrong religion, a guy shits on his friend's head while he's sleeping – you can SEE all these things. Not just fucking hear about it, like that Richard Gere gerbil rumor - I'm talking you can actually experience watching each and every one of these things, and you can do it over and over again. There's never been a time like this ever. We know SO much more about the average asshole than any healthy person has ever known about the subject throughout human history. The average 15 year old of today has a better idea of what horrors people are capable of than a prison guard from the 1940's. So what I'm trying to say is that this certainly isn't a perfect formula, this whole "be nice to everyone" thing. There are going to be moments in life where you run into said assholes, and you have to respond accordingly. But what I've found in my life though, is that the nicer I am the less assholes I meet, and that my time in the tank has made me nicer. The more I make a concerted effort to be positive, the happier I am. To me it's like a much less annoying form of "The Secret."
The really weird part of the tank experience comes once you get comfortable with the experience. Once laying in this weird, warm, salt-water box becomes a regular thing, it becomes easier and easier to relax and go deeper and deeper. To me, it feels as if there are layers of bullshit I have to peel away before I can get to what "me" really is. I always feel as if I'm following a series of machines on a network; each with their own specific job of making life move along, and that I have to recognize and understand how each one works in order to pass it and eventually get to the "source."
The human systems go in a pretty predictable pattern that starts with my personality, and then connects to the various people I come into contact with in my life, and as I pass over that, I eventually branch out to an overview of people in general; egos, relationships, self discipline, then it starts to drift away from individuals, and go to examining cultures, human motivation, symbiotic life, universal consciousness, then slowly but surely it gets to "the place." "The place" is the ultimate goal - a state of consciousness at the center of it all where your "mind" doesn't exist. It's a place where the ego is temporarily forgotten, and where in the complete absence of sensory input you converge into "everything." The more I get in the tank and go through the process, the deeper I can go, and the freaky thing is, it doesn't seem like this experience has an end point. Every single time I get into the tank I get a little bit further, and a little bit closer to the source.
Whatever the fuck that "source" is, it's very much like following the cords on a computer network to it's source. Everything feels solid, tangible, and easy to follow - up until you get past the machines and to the spot where it all plugs into the wall, and then it all gets a little sketchy. I mean, the computers, the keyboard – all that shit makes sense, they're all solid items, but what the fuck is really going on past that plug in the wall? I mean, what the fuck is electricity all about? The monitor you can touch, and when you move the mouse you can see the cursor respond, and that all seems to make sense, but what the fuck is going on when you follow those wires to the internet? The information you get from it is obviously real, but the concept behind it is so hard to wrap your mind around, really. The "source" of it all. Well, there's a "source" of it all for you, too. You've just got to slowly make your way though all of the components of your human network to get into contact with it.
Mystical visions have been a part of the growth of humans forever, but a lot of so-called "no nonsense" people may tell you that the pursuit of such visions are just a self indulgent waste of time. They will tell you that serious men and women of science have no use for seeing things that aren't really there. What's hilarious about that, is that a visionary experience was the motivation behind the work of the man who invented modern analytical thinking, René Descartes. He had a series of dreams in 1619 where the angel of truth came to him and explained to him how he was going to measure and define the laws of thought with mathematics. It's one of the main foundations of modern scientific thinking, and it came to him from an angel in a dream. Pretty trippy shit, huh? And especially ironic considering that a lot of people who consider themselves to be scientific thinkers won't put any thought into considering the influence or power of things that they can't actually measure.
I think we may have to learn to accept the idea that there may very well be something that we're all a part of that we're not completely aware of - that we really are just a part of this huge, gigantic oneness of everything that we can't really detect under normal circumstances because of our ego and our physical limitations. Just because we can't sense something doesn't mean it's not there. One way that I like to put it that makes it easy to grasp is what I like to call "the fart analogy." The way it works is, if I cut a fart in front of you and you didn't hear it, and you don't have a nose, how would you know? You wouldn't have a clue, would you? You would just be sitting in my stench, completely oblivious. Well, I think it's absolutely ludacris to think that all of our limited physical senses detect all of the energy around us all the time. Ever wave your hand over a colony of ants? They don't have a fucking clue you're there. You have to physically touch them before they're even aware of your presence. How do we know that there are not an infinite number of different types of consciousness around us all the time that we're just as clueless of as the ants are of us? It's much, much more likely that we're only seeing a tiny fraction of the big picture, and the deeper you get into the tank experience the larger the piece of this infinitely big picture you're able to see.
The bottom line about this life is that as of right now, it's confirmed that it's temporary. You're going to die, and no one knows what the fuck is going to happen when that moment occurs. There's a lot of speculation, but until you cross over to the great beyond and come back to talk about it, I've got nothing to go on. And if you DO cross over and come back, then you're a fucking zombie, and I'm gonna hit you in the head with a shovel before you can steal my brains. How weird is that, whenever someone dies and comes back to life, it's ALWAYS a bad thing? They're always walking around trying to kill everyone they meet and eat their brains. No one just comes back to life, and is like, "Hey, sup, I'm not dead anymore. You guys wanna go get some Chinese food? Nice to be back."
Now, I know to the uninitiated this shit can sound like some spaced out nonsense, but that's really because you haven't experienced it! What I've given you with these words is the best description of it that I can give, but the only way to really know what the fuck I'm talking about is to try it. It's 100% safe, and if you're ever uncomfortable with the experience you can stop it at any time by simply getting out of the tank. If you google "where to float" it'll show you places where you can hopefully find a tank for rent close to you where you can try it out for a small fee. That's how I got started in this whole thing. I rented a tank at a place in Burbank, CA called "Soothing Solutions." I then went on to buy a tank from the people that provided their tanks, The Samadhi Tank company. Well, I recently had that tank replaced with a new, crazy high tech model, so I'm giving my old tank away online. To win it, simply sign up for my mailing list, and at the end of June I'm going to randomly pick a name on it. As long as you live in the continental United States you're eligible, and I'll even pay for shipping and hire a guy to come out to your place and install it. Watch the video at the top of this story for more details, and good luck!!
35,000 feet in the air flying across the Atlantic ocean on the way to England is where I'm at right now physically. Mentally, I'm in the passenger seat of the magic carpet ride of a THC candy, 2 glasses of wine, and Led Zepplin on the ipod. Dancing in my ears is that freaky part in "Whole lotta love" where there's all this moaning, drug, and fuck noises in the middle of the song. It's one of my favorite moments in one the greatest songs in human history. I played it back twice again just to get the feeling of it while I'm writing this. Fuck it; I just repeated it a third. It never loses its punch. It's such an amazing example of human free expression. A perfect testament of what's possible when you get creative people to express themselves. It doesn't make any traditional music sense; there's this amazing, catchy song with this great hook, and right in the middle of it there's a just a bunch of fuck noises and moans for over a minute, then the beat comes back EVEN STRONGER at 3:05 seconds in. It's one of the greatest moments in music history. It's a build up to a release that rivals the greatest foreplay. I've heard it 20,000 times and it still gets me to groove to it every time. It's my favorite example of how sometimes the best shit in life doesn't make any sense. You gotta just go with it. "Shake for me girl, I wanna be your backdoor man…" Fuck yeah!
A lot of shit has been going on in the wacky space that I've been inhabiting, the weirdest one being that I decided to become a cam whore. Now, I've always admired the enterprising young ladies that could pay their rent by simply pointing a webcam at their well groomed butthole, but other than that, I never thought about any other possible uses for a webcam, until I was watching a live professional pool match on www.theactionreport.com where they had a chat room connected with the live stream where people can talk about the match. The commentators were some players that I knew, so I said hi and we were talking back and forth. They would talk about the game, and they would also respond to the people in the chat room. I thought it was pretty cool, and I stayed on watching and chatting for a couple hours.
Doing it got me thinking that we should try something like that in the green room before the comedy shows, and we gave it a shot this past weekend in San Francisco. We set it up at a couple of different sites, but the one that seemed to work the smoothest was www.justin.tv/joerogan We also set it up late at night in my hotel room, and it was almost immediately really weird. Within a couple minutes there was a hundred people in the chat room, asking questions about everything from marijuana, to moon landings, to death by horsecock. The crowd in the chat got even larger, and we fielded questions for hours. Eventually Joey and Ari got tired and went to bed, and that's when it was the weirdest.
It was like 3 in the morning, and here I am sitting by myself at a hotel room desk, staring into this little camera, and talking to my laptop. I tried to relax, and just express myself honestly and be present with each question, but at least a few times I was in the middle of talking, and I couldn't help but think, "How fucking weird is this?" Am I really alone in my hotel room talking into my laptop to 260 people at 3 in the morning? Really?
I eventually figured out that the best way to keep up with the scrolling questions was to lock onto one, and then look into the camera until I was done answering it, and then pick another one. I did this until some ridiculous hour in the morning, and the only reason why I stopped is because I had to get up for morning radio and I wanted to get at least a couple hours sleep.
To me it was like a completely new way of communicating with people. I mean, even radio shows have callers. This just seems so weird with only one guy talking. It was like some odd, hybrid radio/podcast thing. It's a very strange formula; one person talking, hundreds asking questions, no moderation.
We did it again for a few nights in a row in the green room and back at the hotel room before we got a little burnt out on it. I think it's one of those things that would be really fun to do once a week or so, so I think that's how I'm gonna handle it. I think what I'll do is either post here or on the messageboard when I'm going to do it again, and try to put it on some sort of regular schedule.
The shows in San Francisco last week were some of the wildest and weirdest ones I've ever done. Especially the late show Saturday night. That was a fun, fucking wild show. There was this cool ass deaf dude that showed up with his family and he had interpreters do my act in sign language to him. It was his first time ever at a comedy show, and the guy was a great sport. It was really strange wondering whether or not they were going to be able to translate some of my material, especially some of the weirder subjects, like DMT and fake babies. The guy obviously had a great sense of humor and played along with me when I was asking him questions, and he even got one huge laugh from a gesture. I asked him about the scientifically studied phenomena of where people that have a disability in one area have a massive advantage in other areas, like for instance; I heard that dudes that can't hear are just unbelievable at eating pussy. The dude made a big smile and gestured to his wife. His timing was perfect. I explained his gesture to the folks that couldn't see it, and they howled with laughter. It was fucking hilarious, with just a gesture. Humor translated back and forth between two people, and an audience of over 400, and one of them doesn't even talk. It was fucking awesome.
I've been working on a lot of new material lately, so comedy has been especially wild and slippery. Coming up with new bits has got to be one of the most rewarding things about comedy. It's really fucking exciting watching new shit grow. Whenever I start a new bit, it's like the birth of this living idea, and I can see it change slowly with each time I'm onstage doing it. I can see it morph and shape. Sometimes I've got a good idea, but I have to change the order of it, or sandwich it better between complimentary subjects. And sometimes, I just abandon the original premise and elaborate on another part of the joke and take it to a totally different direction. The key just seems to be to write a lot and perform a lot. Fortunately for me those are two of my favorite things to do. I've been doing stand up for almost 20 years, and I keep falling in love with the art form over and over again. I know it sounds kinda cliché and even potentially insincere, but at the risk of that, I just wanted to thank all the people that have been coming out and supporting my act. If it wasn't for you people, I wouldn't be having nearly as much fun. You guys are why I'm doing all this shit; the blogs, the messageboard stuff, the webcam – I'm trying to stay as connected as possible. I've got some crazy, positive momentum I'm riding right now, and I want to share it with all of you. Lots of crazy shit coming up soon. Sign up for my mailing list to stay updated on everything. Thanks for tuning in. It's 12:44am in LA, and 8:45 AM the next morning in England. I just finished this blog, and I've got to land in London in an hour, and then catch a connecting flight in a couple more hours, and I haven't slept a wink. Tomorrow should be interesting...
For this blog, and for future others I'm just going to just post the link to the story on my main blog on joerogan.net. I'm trying to move away from using social networking sites as much to publicize gigs and publish my blogs and have anyone interested in reading my shit or seeing me live just come to my main website.
I try as hard as I can to keep up with myspace messages, but I get a fuck load of them and you can't search or manage them at all. If you want to get a hold of me the best way is regular email, joe@joerogan.net I can't answer them all, but I read most of them. If you want to keep up on where I'm going to be performing and what other new craziness is going on, subscribe to my mailing list here.
2 weeks ago I got a chance to travel back to the land of my birth, the love filled paradise of best wishes commonly known as Newark, New Jersey. That's what I looked like back when I lived there. Wasn't I fucking cute?
The New Jersey Devils built a badass new arena in Newark, and we had a UFC there on one of the nights they were off. The arena was pretty fucking sick, and it's being hailed as one of the signs that Newark is making a financial comeback.
I've got a lot of memories connected to Newark. I was born there, and I only lived there until I was 7, but when I was in my early 20's I moved back there again for 6 months or so. I was living in Boston during my early days in stand up, grinding out my days working for this hilarious private investigator, Dave Dolan, a great guy that's still a good friend to this day, and I was trying to do my comedy at night. I was keeping up a crazy pace; I would deliver the Boston Globe in my car early every morning, 365 days a year to 300 houses, then I would work for Dave during the day, then head to the comedy clubs at night to pursue my dream of one day becoming a professional stand up comedian. I would always look at these comics with their careers in order with great admiration. I couldn't imagine how great life must be when you get to the point where you can pay your bills by just doing stand up. I still remember that energized, hungry feeling I had back then thinking about it, and I call upon it for inspiration some days.
Back in those early days in Boston I was always tired. Trying to keep with all the shit I was doing was really taking a toll on me, but I had to keep doing it. I was seriously exhausted all the time, so much so that I fell asleep once while in the middle of going down on my girlfriend. I'll never forget the image burned into my mind of her disappointingly pushing my face and looking down at me, propped up on her elbows with eyebrows raised, saying, "Hey, you were snoring." I couldn't even deny it. Normally if you wake me up, for whatever reason I'll almost always lie and say I was awake. I have no idea why I do it, and I try to stop it, but for whatever reason I'm just always pretending that I was already up. Not this time, though. I just took my shame like a man.
I knew I had to make some progress in my life, and fairly soon. Well, it was somewhere around that time when I met my current manager, Jeff Sussman. Jeff was living in NY managing comics, and he and his number 1 client were about to part ways, so Jeff was searching for new talent. On a whim, Jeff decided to take a trip up to Boston and check out some of the local talent there. I wasn't scheduled to perform that night, but I had a new joke that I had written that day, so I called up the club and asked them if I could do a guest set. I was driving home from work exhausted, and I'm sure I had thoughts of pussying out and just going home and getting some rest, but I plowed on. I got to the club, and Oliver, the club manager was introducing Jeff to a few of the comics. I got to meet him, but he left before I went onstage - which to me at the time was no big deal. I didn't really think I was ready to managed by a guy with as big a name in the business as Jeff, and the new joke I had come up with was dirty, and at the time I was brainwashed by the current thought process into thinking that dirty jokes were cheap and easy, and that to "make it" you had to work clean. If Jeff had stayed to watch my act I probably would have tried to water it down, and I probably would have sucked. I went onstage carefree and had a great set, and in the middle of my act, Jeff came back into the club because he heard a lot of laughter from outside. When I came offstage Jeff was there waiting to meet me. He handed me his card and asked to see me perform again the next night. I remember thinking that if I had known Jeff had returned to the club while I was onstage, I probably would have never done those jokes, and probably never had that good a set, and he would have probably passed me up and signed someone else. At the time it really did feel like a scene in a movie. Coming offstage to a round of applause when a smiling man hands you his business card, and thus begins the next chapter of your life. Jeff has been my manager ever since. He's a bad motherfucker, and the coolest guy in the business.
Jeff signed me 2 weeks later, and wanted me to move to NY. I was basically scratching and grinding at the time, so I didn't have any money saved up for the move. Lucky for me my Grandfather still lived in Newark, and he offered to let me stay with him. North 9th street was a nice neighborhood when my grandfather moved his family there in the 1940's, but over the years shit had drastically changed. By the time I got there in 1990 he was surrounded by poverty and crime. The next door neighbor's house got raided for selling crack right before I moved in, and there were plenty of stoplights on the way to Grandpa's house where my doors were always locked and I was always ready to hit the gas. I stayed there for 6 months until I had saved up enough money for my own place, and to this day whenever I think about Newark, I think about my frame of mind back then. It just comes right back to me in clear focus.
Having the UFC in Newark was a huge memory flash for me. My grandfather died in the mid nineties, and I hadn't been back there since his funeral. Driving around, staring at all the buildings, it was the same feeling all over again. Some places just have a "feeling" that you get when you're there, and to me, there's no place that rings out in my memories quite like Newark.
One of the best parts of my trip was that I got to hang out on the radio all morning with Opie and Anthony and little Jimmy Norton. It's one of my all time favorite radio shows to do, because that's really what it's like - hanging out. It barely feels like you're doing radio. It just feels like you're involved in a funny conversation with some really cool guys. I'm on their show every time I'm back east, and it's one of the things I look forward to the most.
We started out the morning talking about psychedelic drugs because they had story they were reading about kids getting DMT from toads, and we spent the next couple hours having a trippy conversation about psychedelics, crazy dreams, and sensory deprivation tanks. O&A have a cool set up, where they do regular FM restricted radio in the first part of the morning, and then from 9-11am they go on XM satellite radio where they can go balls out. Like virtually every radio show, O&A have a bunch of regular people that visit them on air, and one of them is a 50 year old virgin that they call "Stalker Patty." This is where the "balls out" part comes in, this time very literally. Opie came up with the idea of giving patty a Listerine breath strip and telling her that it's actually laced with THC, the active ingredient in Marijuana. For over an hour we had her convinced that she was high as the satellite that was broadcasting our signal. It was both amazing and hilarious for a bunch of reasons; first off being that she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. There wasn't a moment where she questioned it, and watching the power of suggestion work so effortlessly was just fucking fascinating. We had her scratching at imaginary bugs, they were fucking with the sound coming into her headset so that she heard everyone's voice echo. Everyone was making weird noises and chanting, and she thought she was so high she couldn't stand up. They had guys that work on the show dress up in outfits, like a monster and a giant bunny rabbit, and just walk through the room while no one addressed them. Then Ari pulled his junk out and we had her convinced that was an illusion too.
(The image below has been altered for myspace to remove Ari's Cock N' Balls. Click on it to be taken to the real picture at joerogan.net)
At one point in time I told her that she was going to be fine after the drug wore off, but one thing that was very important was that she shouldn't lay back and close her eyes, because if she did she would instantly fall asleep. Something like a half an hour later someone offered to recline her chair back and suggested that she rest her eyes. As soon as she did, she was out like a light. Instantly. It was fucking crazy. Within seconds she was snoring into the mic. The power of suggestion is just fucking incredible. Granted, we were observing it working on a simpleton, but it was so effective it made me think; could you imagine if there was someone out there so much smarter than me that they could do that to me just by talking to me? I like to tell myself that's not possible, but when you watch another human being get drawn in like that – 100%, completely spellbound, it really makes you wonder. "Biggie, biggie, biggie can't you see, sometimes your words they hypnotize me…"
I had a show late Friday night at Caroline's on Broadway, and the turn out and the crowd were amazing. The show didn't start until 1:30am, and there was a line of people down the block freezing their asses off waiting to get in. To them, I say thank you very much. I really appreciate everyone coming out, especially for such a late show on a Friday night. The crowd was drunk and rowdy, but that's to be expected from a group of people that have probably been up since 7am, worked all day, and then had to fucking freeze outside waiting at 1 in the morning to see a comedy show. Taking that into consideration, they were remarkably well behaved. The show was completely sold out, standing room only, and only one guy got thrown out, and even he was cool, he was just too drunk to know when to shut the fuck up.
I got to meet a bunch of people after the show and take pictures with them, and it was truly a pleasure. I met a bunch of different people that drove down to the show from different states because I'm so rarely on the East Coast these days. To them, and everyone else I just want to say I'm honored. It's people like you guys that make all of this so worthwhile, and your enthusiasm enriches me and inspires me more than you could possibly know. After the show we prowled the streets until 6am with Chuck Zito and the Tapout crew, and a great fucking time was had by all.
The next day I woke up to do my dream job – hosting the UFC. Out of all the gigs that I've ever had in my career, there's none that I enjoy more than that UFC. I'm a huge fan of the sport, and I feel very fortunate to have the opportunity to work for the best Mixed Martial Arts organization in the world. I've been doing commentary for over 5 years now, and I still have to pinch myself every time one of these events is about to start. The excitement of the UFC is really like nothing else in all of sports. Its just competition stripped down to it's raw core - free of distractions like balls and field goals and time outs. Nothing but 2 men furiously executing skills against each other that they have honed through countless hours of work and sacrifice playing the ultimate game with both the ultimate risk and reward. I fucking LOVE it. I can't believe it's really my job. I've often thought that my life has been so fortunate that so many times it really does feel like it's all a dream. Maybe in some parallel continuum it really is. Maybe there it's still 1990, and I'm still face down asleep in my girlfriend's pussy, dreaming of this magical life I'm living.
My friend Ari’s butthole, and me watching 2 girls 1 cup.
There have often been moments in my life where I sat back and thought, how the fuck did I ever get by without the internet? Between google searching for answers and information, to finding forums filled with like-minded people to talk to, it's just so much shit to tune into on the net. There's been many days where I just sit in front of my computer for hours and hours, just reading and posting on forums, clicking on fucked up videos, reading people's blogs… Blogs are some of my favorite, to read and to write. You've got to read a lot of boring ones to find something juicy, but it's always worth it. You can find some amazing gems out there that you would never have access to if it wasn't the internet. Like for example, there's this gay crossdresser in San Francisco that has this great blog on myspace. Before the internet, how am I going to read that shit? It would either have to be published in some mainstream magazine, or someone would have to tell me about it and give me a copy of it, because I sure as fuck am not going to just walk into a store and buy it. Today, I can just click this link and laugh at it, and so can you too.
Another thing we have on the internet is answers. Not just answers to regular questions like, "what is the speed of light," or "who really killed Kennedy," but those questions that we never thought we would have answers to if we lived a normal life. Questions that come up after the 4th bong rip… Questions like, "Do you think there's dude's out there that actually WANT to get fucked in the ass by pigs?" Now, back in the days before the internet, you were dealing with pure speculation for the most part. I mean, back in the day if the subject came up there was usually one dude that knew someone that had a tape of some chicks having sex with animals, but the question of whether or not there were guys out there getting fucked by animals… no one really knew. Today, all you have to do is click this link and you can watch it. Shit, there's entire sites dedicated to it! Sites that anyone with an iphone can get to standing pretty much anywhere in America where there's a cell signal.
That's some pretty amazing progress. I know it's silly to think in terms of a video of a dude getting fucked in the ass by a pig as having anything to do with progress, but it really is if you think about it. It's the ultimate expression of the progress of the access of information now as opposed to when there was no internet. Something that was once very, very hard to come by is now instantly accessible all over the world.
Today, I'm going to add to the current of fucked up videos out there on the net, and we're also going to add to the current of videos of people reviewing fucked up videos on the net.
First, the new one. It's all about my friend Ari's butthole. Now, how exactly did this come up? Definitely a legitimate question. We were doing a gig together in Austin, TX and when I was onstage Ari was in the green room taking a shit. Apparently Brian was filming him because Ari had the door open, and at one point in time Ari showed them his butthole to gross them out. Little did he know how gross it really was. I would imagine that like most people, Ari really didn't know what his butthole looked like. I know I sure couldn't pick mine out in a line up. I'm not saying I haven't looked at it in the mirror before, because I certainly have, but looking at a photo of it on it's own without me upside down staring into the mirror for context, I doubt if I would truly recognize it. Well, it just so happens that my good friend Ari has a very unusual butthole. I think I'll just leave it at that. Sit back, strap in your seat belts and enjoy the CENSORED version of one of the funniest videos we've ever made. Enjoy!! If you want to see the real, uncensored video, go to my website here.
Pretty fucking nasty, huh? Speaking of pretty fucking nasty, I'm sure a lot of you have seen the latest video floating around called "two girls and 1 cup," right? If you haven't it's easily one of the grossest videos ever. You can see it here. It's so shocking that there's a whole ton of really entertaining videos out there of people watching it for the first time. We filmed one of me watching it, and then me showing my friend Brian watching the BME Pain Olympics and me filming him. The BME pain Olympics is fucking NUTS. It's these dudes cutting their dicks off, slamming hatchets into their balls, cutting their testicles out… it's fucking INSANE. You can find the BME Pain Olympics here. And the video of us watching 2 girls 1 cup and the pain Olympics here:
I'll be at Caroline's on Broadway this Friday night for one show at midnight, along with Ari Shaffir and his shocking butthole. If you're nice enough to him after the show, I'm sure he'll let you see it. Hell, he might even let you take pictures with it! To find out about future shows, please sign up for my mailing list here. As soon as the new front portal for this site is done I'm going to have weekly contests where we draw from the list and give people free tickets to shows and we're going to film the winners and put it on youtube. With your permission, of course. I'll be on Opie and Anthony Friday morning on FM and XM radio, and I'll see you at the UFC Saturday night!
I've got 3 stand up comedy gigs in Southern California this weekend; Thursday night at the House of Blues in Anaheim, Friday at 4th and B in San Diego, and Saturday night at the Canyon Club in Agoura Hills. At first I was thinking about canceling the San Diego show because of everything that's going on down there with the wild fires, but then I decided a better option would be to go ahead with the show, but then donate all the money to the red cross relief efforts. This way the show will go on and it will help support a great cause and hopefully bring some fun and happiness to a damaged community. I love San Diego, and I haven't been back there in almost a year, so I've been really looking forward to this gig.
For some reason I haven't heard it talked about much in the news, but in response to the San Diego wildfires, FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency in a desperate attempt to polish up their image that was so badly tarnished by their shitty handling of the whole hurricane Katrina disaster decided that the best way to come out of this smelling like roses was to fake a press conference.
If you can fucking believe this, they actually were retarded enough to use FEMA employees to pose as reporters and toss underhand, softball questions at a fella named Harvey E. Johnson, the agency's deputy director. For shame, you deceptive, incompetent fucks. Not that it's surprising that the government can be full of shit, but actually going out of their way to fake a news conference is pretty fucking crazy. Even the white house came out and condemned it. I guess after they got busted with that whole Jeff Gannon fiasco they're a little more careful about how they disseminate their propaganda. Now, if you don't remember Jeff Gannon, he was the fake reporter for a fake news agency (Talon news) that was employed as a Bush white house reporter for two years, and got to attend all the press conferences and ask easy questions laced with pro-Bush rhetoric until it was discovered that he was also running a bunch of gay prostitution websites. Yikes!! Now he's a right wing blogger (http://www.jeffgannon.com/) who brags on his website about sitting at the head table at a National Press Club luncheon with Dick Cheney and his wife. Busted for being a closet cocksucker and a fake reporter, and then 2 years later breaking bread with the evil puppet master at a public function. Straight Gangsta!!
The absolute fucking craziest shit that I saw in regards to the fire though, was hands down this report of Fox News where they speculated that Al Qaeda might have been responsible for the fires. Seriously, it feels like we're living in a movie more and more every day. People just CAN'T be that stupid really, can they?
It's all rotting out from under us, folks. I'm not sure if it's even possible to fix this fucked up world we live in at this point, but I am positive that there's a whole lot to laugh at. Come out to see me this weekend, we will drink, we will smoke, and we will laugh while the world flies to pieces around us.
House of Blues Anaheim 11|01 November 1, 2007 9:00pm House of Blues - Anaheim 1530 South Disneyland Drive Anaheim , CA (714) 778-2583 Website: House Of Blues
4th and B San Diego 11|02 November 2, 2007 8:00pm 4th and B San Diego 345 B Street San Diego , CA (619) 231-2131 Website: 4th and b
The Canyon Club 11|03 November 3, 2007 8:00am The Canyon Club 28912 Roadside Drive Agoura Hills , CA (818) 879-5016 Website: Canyon Club
"High Times would like you to present the award for Stoner of the Year. Do you want to do it?"
I laughed out loud, and told my manager, "Hellllllllllll Yeah." There ain't no fucking way I'm passing this up. You can take your Oscars and your Emmys and stuff them deep up your ass as far as I'm concerned, but I'm not missing the "Stonys." I hosted the event about 4 years ago in NYC and spent the last 3 hours of the night laying in bed with my eyes closed watching magical elves performing a cosmic sitcom. My memory of the night before that point plays out like a slide show of cool music, cool people, lots of laughter, and one very obvious bookmark; like a little post it note that my mind left for my consciousness to let me know, "This is where you fucked up, dummy." It's an image clear as day and forever burned into my mental hard drive where this dude wearing a TOOL T shirt and an army jacket said to me, "Hey man, you want a brownie?" Of course I said yes, and I'm pretty sure I said yes at least twice. Like my friend Joey Diaz often says, "If you're gonna walk on ice, you might as well dance."
Now, the big question is, can you get too high? Well, it's impossible to die from it, but there's a little known effect called the "one pass" that might just make you think you're gonna. The "one pass effect" is what happens when you eat cannabis. I've known for a while that it was a completely different effect when you ate a pot brownie, and quite a bit stronger than smoking it, but I never understood why until my friend Todd explained it to me the other night. The deal is, when you eat weed the THC is converted as it passes through your liver and kidneys into something called "11 hydroxy metabolite," a completely different psychoactive chemical, and it's five times more potent that way than smoking it. Yikes! Either way, even in it's most potent form cannabis is still basically harmless. It can freak you out, but it can't kill you, and as soon as it wears off you're good as new.
If that's the case, then why is it illegal? That's a really fucking good question that's got a whole lot of good answers, mostly dealing in economics, the business of busting and imprisoning people, and the reluctance of the government to ever change their stance on something that they once vehemently opposed. It's really the only way to control people; you have to REALLY control them. The government is ALWAYS right, even when it's wrong, because if they admit that they're wrong about cannabis, one of the first things that's going to happen is that a FUCK LOAD of people are going to go out and start smoking it. The next thing that's going to happen is that there's going to be a massive chain reaction from what would essentially be an almost instantaneous shift in national consciousness. Once people realize it's safe, it will very quickly become the preferred drug of choice. It'll kill the liquor business, because you can grow it yourself.
Then of course there's the problem of, "If they were wrong about this, what else are they lying to us about?" That could start a big, fat, chain reaction shit storm that no one in government wants to deal with. There are a lot of people that are convinced that we're going to see legalization in our lifetime. I'm not one of them. I applaud all the efforts of the people pushing for legalization, and especially the folks that are working hard to provide medical cannabis for the thousands of people that benefit greatly from the use of this unusual plant – but I could see this thing play out the same way year after year. The medical movement will grow, and slowly it'll be more acceptable, but I have a feeling we're a long way from legalization.
Back in 1970 Carl Sagan was asked when he thought marijuana would be legalized, and he thought that it would be within the decade. The guy interviewing him called him a pessimist. I wonder what we'll be thinking about it 30 years from now. I have a feeling the same retarded arguments against it will still be around. I mean, if they're around now, with all of the access to information and all the results of the numerous medical studies on the innocuous health effects of smoking it, what's there to make me think it's going to change 30 years from now? Are the tests going to be any clearer? They ALL say it's safe. What more do we need?
By the time we got to the High Times show the place was already reeking of the sacred plant. They were attempting to contain the people "medicating" to the green room, but that shit ain't a vacuum, yo. The door opened and closed with regularity, and as it did the sweet smell of cheeba wafted through the club. As the show started, the club security was working overtime putting out joints in the crowd. They did a pretty admirable job at first, but eventually the sheer volume was just overwhelming. I mean, it's the fucking High Times Stony awards. The odds of keeping that place weed smoke free are about the same as Brittney Spears winning mom of the year. Plus, I'm sure most of those dudes working security caught a serious contact high. They went from grabbing people's wrists and warning them for the first half hour, to just looking at them and making that "cut it out" hand motion across the neck for the second half hour, to completely ignoring it about an hour and a half in.
Seth Rogen from the movie "Knocked Up" won stoner of the year. Absolutely well deserved, and the dude is fucking hilarious. That was one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time, and Seth is cool as fuck.
Highlight of the evening for me had to be meeting Tommy Chong. I was always a huge fan of his movies when I was a kid, so it was a real treat to meet him. Plus, Tommy was arrested and jailed on some bullshit case years ago when John Ashcroft concocted a sting called "operation pipe dreams." His son was selling bongs with Tommy's name on them, and to keep his family out of jail, he agreed to plead guilty and do time. It's a pretty fucked up story where 20 federal agents showed up at his house, guns drawn to arrest him in front of his loved ones, all for selling glass. Talk about overkill. Tommy spends a lot of his time now giving pro marijuana speeches and telling his story. They went into detail about it in this documentary I appeared in recently called "The Union: The Business Behind Getting High." It's all about the marijuana business in British Columbia and the ridiculousness of the prohibition. You can get information about it here:www.theunionmovie.com. And here's a trailer for the movie:
All in all, the evening was a lot of fun. I got to hang out with some of the leaders in the cannabis movement, like the great Jack Herer, author of "The Emperor Wears No Clothes," THE definitive book on marijuana and the history of it's use, a fantastic, eye opening resource that's changed the way a lot of people look at the plant.
See, that's one of the main problems with cannabis; public perception. The anti-cannabis propaganda was so overwhelming that even a lot of people that enjoy pot are embarrassed by it, and think it's bad for them. What's left is essentially two groups of people that use it; Group one: the retards that saw the propaganda, and said, "Who cares about brain cells, I wanna get FUCKED UP!" and Group two: those that have been educated to see beyond the bullshit, and enlightened as to the nature of this amazing and beautiful plant. I don't think I need to tell anyone that's capable of reading this far into this little blog entry that there's a FUCK LOAD more folks in group one than two.
Such appears to be one of the strangest rules of life; some of the best things remain a mystery to most, despite all of the access to information and communication we have. And we're just talking about pot, don't even get me started about DMT. The propaganda hasn't stopped, either. Only now they're targeting kids, with weird commercials that aren't really saying anything. They can't quote any facts because there really are none, so they're just putting it in your head very early that pot is bad. How about this fucking commercial where this chick's dog starts talking to her and telling her that he doesn't like it when she gets high:
"Hey Lindsey, I wish you didn't smoke weed."
"Really? Well I wish you didn't freak me the fuck out by talking to me with no warning. You know how to talk? How about a heads up first, motherfucker? Why don't you start off slow, like maybe write me a note or something? How long have you been able to talk? You could talk all this time, and the first words out of your mouth are criticism? How about 'hey, I'm your dog, and I can talk!' Wouldn't that be a better way to start? Right away with the complaints?"
What's the message here? Don't smoke weed or your dog will be disappointed in you? The same dog that I have to yell at every day to keep him from eating shit out of the cat's litter box? Is that really a deterrent? I mean, it's your fucking dog. Even little kids get to yell at the dog. The dog is the bottom of the food chain when it comes to pull around the house. Who give a fuck what he thinks.
Meanwhile, the craziest thing about the video is that after the dog is done talking, the chick just stands there and thinks about what the dog said. She doesn't scream, or call her brother over so he can see, or even ask the dog any questions. She just drops her head in shame over her weed smoking. Whatever that chick is smoking, keep it the fuck away from me.
I come to you from 40 years of age. That's right, baby- four fucking zero. I turned 40 August 11th, and I gave it a little while to set in, but I've gotta tell you, so far I feel exactly the same. It feels like just another day in the life. To other people though, it seems that saying you've turned 40 is a lot like announcing that you've got terminal cancer of the asshole. People ask me, "Happy birthday, how old are you now?"
"40."
"HOLY SHIT!"
You can actually see some people flinch when I tell them. It doesn't matter how you look or feel; in our collective consciousness that number 40 is a turn for the worst on that long, dark, dirt road to dead. It's something engrained in us. We're programmed by our society to freak out about certain milestones. I remember about 10 years ago I was talking to a friend and she was turning 30 and when I talked to her about it she was in tears. She just couldn't get over this new number that she had to wear around. Meanwhile she had so much shit going for her; she was healthy, living in America, had good friends, and was very attractive. It was literally the prime of her existence, and she couldn't be more miserable. In her eyes that number 30 was like a gigantic evil boulder suspended above her head by a creaking rope, and with every day that went by it crept lower and lower towards it's ultimate goal of crushing her head.
Now, I don't "look" or "feel" like the average 40 that I see because I work out constantly and take a fuck load of supplements (including hormone replacement therapy) to keep my body healthy - but the reality is no matter how you slice it, I'm fucking 40. On one hand our perceptions of what's possible at an older age have definitely been changed by modern athletes that compete at the highest level WAY later than they did decades in the past because of the advances in science and nutrition. For example, one of the baddest motherfuckers on the planet, the UFC heavyweight champion Randy Couture is 44 years old, baseball's homerun king Barry Bonds is 43, and boxing's light heavyweight champion of the world and one of the best pound for pound fighters alive, Bernard Hopkins is 42. When I was 15 a 40-year-old athlete might as well be dead. "40 is the new 30!" Whatever the fuck that means.
I think we've all got this weird idea of people that somehow a 60-year-old man and a 20-year-old man are different things, but they're not. A 60-year-old man is nothing but a 20-year-old man that survived. I mean there certainly is a difference in the way you carry yourself with age, and I'm most certainly better at being "me" now than I was when I was 20, but that's just really a matter of getting more comfortable socially, and accumulating more information and applying it to the matters in my life. Understanding myself better, developing a better personal philosophy, etc. What I'm really trying to say though, is that at the end of the day, when absent of outside influence, when I'm thinking with feeling and no words – whatever the real "me" is, it remains exactly the same. That's not something I would have guessed when I was younger. I just thought somehow "I" would be different.
I always thought that by the time I got to be the respectable age of 40, maybe politics would somehow make sense to me. No such luck. I'm just as baffled as to how such a goofy system like this could be in place now as I was when I was 20. Now that I'm actually of an acceptable age to be a politician, it makes even LESS sense. Now I hear these fucking people talk their crazy talk, and I realize that some of them are actually my age. When I was 20, they were 20, and now here they are on some weird fucking talk show sitting around with a bunch of other dudes around my age, wearing ties and uncomfortable shoes, talking about how important it is to put a stop to gay marriage.
I always think, "who the fuck is that guy hanging out with?" I mean, besides other closet homos, of course. There's nothing wrong with being gay, don't get me wrong – but when I see a guy on TV and he starts connecting gay people in love with "ruining families," I automatically picture that guy scuffing up those shiny shoes on a piss stained men's room floor, breathing the sour smell of urinal hockey pucks and other people's shit though his nose because his mouth is filled with a stranger's hog. As a matter of fact, SO many conservative politicians get caught blowing dudes, that I'm starting to think that maybe they're ALL gay. From Mark Foley to Ted Haggard to Jeff Gannon to Larry Craig - maybe that's why they're really against gay marriage; they don't want their bitch getting any of their cash. I hear ya, playa. I ain't hatin'.
One of the craziest things about politicians is that they all have writers, and that doesn't even bother us. We don't even really get to know what "they" think, because everything "they" say has been carefully planned and scripted in advance by a team of experts. They just slip on those shiny shoes and repeat what's written. Why do we still allow that? I mean, these aren't fucking late night talk show hosts we're talking about, they're people positioning themselves to become the commander in chief of the greatest military machine ever known. Shouldn't we have a better idea of how their brains really work? I say we should forbid them from having writers, and have a webcam on them 24 hours a day to makes sure they don't cheat. That, and force them to sit down and write a blog every day telling us how they feel about the world. Could you just imagine how awesome Bush's blog would be to read? How about with no spell check?
Another thing that freaks me out about political speeches is why is it that we still accept that weird, fake way of talking? Could you imagine if someone tried to talk to you one on one the way the president addresses the nation? Why is it OK to talk like that just because you're talking to a bunch of people? I think the whole fake aspect of it is really probably just some left over shit from back when they had to address a large crowd with no microphone. You couldn't speak in a conversational tone back then, because there were hundreds of people gathered to hear you talk, and if you spoke in a normal tone most of them wouldn't be able to hear a fucking word you said. So politicians, much like stage actors playing loud to the back of the room, learned how to say things in short, loud, meaningful bursts to allow for as many people as possible to take it all in. It became a pattern, and once a pattern is set, we tend to keep it around for a long time.
One of the more shocking realizations that I've come to be aware of in this fairly long life, is how much of the direction of our lives just revolve around following patterns, regardless of how silly they are. Once we've got a groove carved, that's where we follow unless something radical shifts us off course. I mean, if you look at it objectively, although there's certainly massive evidence of human technological progress over the last hundred years or so, comparatively speaking human social progress hasn't really changed all that much. I mean yeah, women can vote, and slavery is illegal now, but the hard, retarded facts about humans are still concrete; we still have war, we still have massive corruption in our government, we still have bad words, and we still take comfort in fairy tales.
Right now the problems we as humans have in the world all revolve around the same basic needs that we've had for thousands of years; we need to control the resources so that "we" and the team "we" are on, can survive in comfort. At one time it was fighting over fertile lands and herds of animals, then it was shiny metal and beautiful women, and now it's literally the blood of the earth. A fierce battle to see who gets to suck off the main vein, and the blood of the earth gets used as fuel to power the very machine that poisons it.
Sometimes I think that the only thing that's going to alter this fucked up direction that we humans are traveling in is the advent of some sort of technology that you could have never guessed would exist. Something so insane that it radically shifts the way we interact with this dimension, or even removes us from the physical boundaries of it. An idea so crazy that until it's invented, it wouldn't even be something thought of in science fiction. Much like the internet is today. I mean, if you look back on what they were capable of on star trek; they were able to break down human beings, several at a time into particles and transfer them down to another fucking planet - but nobody ever dreamed that you could have all of the information in the entire world accessible wirelessly on some small glass screen that you keep in your pocket. They thought of warp speed, but they never dreamed of an iphone. They didn't even have cameras or cool ring tones on their little walkie-talkies. Their shit was straight ghetto.
There could be some new discovery right around the corner that we couldn't possibly imagine now, and it could change every single thing as we know it, forever. It could possibly be a time machine, or maybe an actual portal to another dimension that the whole world can plug into. A god switch…
Sounds like nutty stoner talk, right? Of course it does, but if you look at what some scientists are up to right now it starts to seem a little more possible. Even though it doesn't get much coverage in the daily news and people don't talk about it like they talk about gay politicians or coke snorting actresses, there is some CRAZY fucking shit going on right now. How about these particle colliders? They're in the middle of putting together two of the largest, craziest fucking machines ever conceived by science. Just how big is that? How about 25 fucking MILES big. A gigantic machine that smashes electrons and positrons at insane speeds in an effort to figure what the fuck mass really is. The only problem; it might create black holes. But I wouldn't sweat it. I can't see how that could possibly go wrong, can you?
Maybe that's the real human "race" - technology vs. the stupid. Maybe this world is so irreconcilably fucked up that the real race isn't to see who controls the resources, but rather a race between the destructive motivations behind war, fascism and propaganda, and the ambitions of the human imagination and technology - which ironically need money and resources to fund it. Maybe the real race is to find and invent the god switch before the dopey territorial apes in charge of highly sophisticated weapons that they couldn't possibly have invented on their own, wipe 90% of the life off the planet and the whole process has to start again from scratch.
Maybe that's what December 21st, 2012 is all about? Just a little over 5 years left, bitches. Live it up!
To wrap things up, here's a little video of my birthday show, thanks to everyone that was there at the show to share it with me!
