Coffee Jerk

Why do the people at the café always ask you if you want your ice latte for here or to go when they always put it in the same cup anyway? I think it’s to give you the illusion of choice. You don’t have any choices. You point at the menu and if it ain’t up there, it ain’t happening. Hot water, beans, cup, overpriced condiments, five bucks, some crappy pidgin Italian-Dr Seuss name, thanks don’t come again.

I once went into a café and asked for a plain, regular decaf coffee. Totally stumped the guy. Wasn't on the menu. I didn't use the "code". Latte? He asked. Cappuccino? Yes, I see the menu, there, Mensa boy. I can read and comprehend the words you are pointing at. I’m forty, perhaps I’ve had a latte or a cappuccino in my life. Can you comprehend that I don’t have time to learn which euphemisms your pretentious corporate café uses to describe its small, medium, large café au lait americano frappe? The Venti Massimo Grande Pequeño Gulp. Whatever!

Every restaurant on Earth has three cups. Small. Medium. Large. Don't give me any of that monkey business where large is medium and Stupendous is a fishing bucket. Or any of that movie concession stand crap where you can get a free thimble or a fifteen dollar jug of pre-urinated Mountain Dew. Regular. Cup. Of. Coffee. Imagine if you will a man-sized coffee cup filled with Regular. Coffee. No milk, no sugar, no sweetener, no flavorings, no whipped cream, no sprinkles, no cinammon, no parsely, and no spit.


Look at me Chachi. Stop spinning your bald tires and look up here at me. I’m a six foot world-traveling hillbilly who asked for a plain, regular cup of coffee. Do you think I want a thimble of espresso? An overflowing banana float? Do you think I want five cups to go and three for here? Do I look like a complicated man? Did I ask for a dingleberry scone plantain muffintop?? One. Plain. Regular. Cup. Of. Coffee. Do you know what country you are in? Shall I point it out on the world map for you Señor Barista?

So you gotta wonder about people’s mentalities sometimes. Do you bring your car into the repair shop and tell 'em you want 'em to make it a Formula One style Ford Escort? Do you go to the Men's Warehouse and ask for a Liberace Glitter Tuxedo and matching piano? Do you know anything at all about your product that is not already emblazend on the wall? Do you greet your customers who come in out of the rain soaking wet and shaking their umbrellas into the bucket "Hey, it's a little wet out there?" Some people comprehend the concept of a menu. Can you comprehend that you being an idiot now means I have to get a teaspoon of ridicule with my coffee now every day?


One. Regular. Cup. Of. Coffee. Just let me behind the counter, I’ll get it myself, ring myself up, and keep the tip. Do you believe the nerve of these people? They charge $5 for a cup of coffee and then have the nerve to put a tip jar at the register. Sorry, I don’t tip robots. These people are so drilled you could come in their wearing an overcoat made of howler monkey pelts and ask them to pour hot coffee down your pants and without even looking up they'll ask you "You want a scone with that? Pick up over there please." Here, have a tip. Have you ever seen an empty tip jar? Of course not. It’s always seeded with petty cash money. I’ve got a tip for you: stay in school. Get a job that doesn’t involve telling people to be careful because their hot coffee is hot.



And I’m sorry if it looks like I’m lowering the boom on café workers. I’m not. I mean, I know those guys work hard. It’s a busy job for that kind of pay. It’s not easy dealing with the public minute after minute after minute. I’m just saying – know your product. Learn to look at a customer and figure out what they want – especially if what they want is the most basic unit of your freaking product! But maybe that's a generational gap thing. Kids today all brought up believing coffee is something that should have chunks of fruit in it and cost as much as four gallons of gasoline.

Oh, I’m a problem customer? Here’s the problem: you have no perspective and your music sucks! I comprehend your cash register mental house of cards. Do you comprehend mine?


Here's an actual conversation I've had with a coffee server:
Large ice latte, skim.
What size?
Large.
Ice or hot?
Ice. Large ice latte, skim.
Latte?
Latte.
You want whipped cream?
Skim.
Whipped cream?
Skim. Connect the dots now.
WHIPPED CREAM?
Skim. Large ice latte, skim.
Go over there please.
Hold on, I've changed my mind. Medium hot cafe au lait to go in a dirty cup. And put a hurry on that, my jackass is running off with my prospecting equipment and Amway sampler pack.
Medium...?
Large ice latte, skim.
Large ice latte, skim?
There ya go.

So now I’ve worked my way around the coffee order problem. Here’s how I placed my coffee order yesterday:

"Give me the absolute largest café americano in a to go cup, double no-fat double sweet, whipped cream, shot of vermouth and some human spit. Now pour all that into the toilet except for the americano, from the dispenser into THIS cup that my finger is tapping, and call it whatever the freaking Klingon coffee language your menu is in. Here’s fifty cents, put the change in the jar! I’ll be over here humping your magazine rack and shouting out the contents of people’s computer screens and just generally mingling on behalf of the board of shareholders."

Guy looks at me, “Dude, regular decaf coming up.”

Sex on a Bicycle and Other Portable Comedy

Do you know why astronauts don't bring dogs into space? The frisbee just keeps on going.

I was fired from a sleep study job for being too enthusiastic.

When my boss asked me to work overtime, I said only if I can work over space, too. Then I commanded him to exist, and he had to obey.

Dogs may be man's best friend, but Man is just a dog's casual acquaintance.

I drove my car into a tree, but it wasn't insured, so we exchanged information and settled out of court. I didn't pay.

It takes two to tango, but one hundred to Riverdance.

I needed some register tape but I didn't want to pay for it, so I bought some, and then returned it and kept the receipt.

I rode a bicycle cross country...no I didn't.

Do you know the fastest way to lose weight? Blow up the planet.

What's sex like after marriage? Well, do you ever get a coke with a broken straw, and all you suck is air? That sucking sound is the best sex I've had all year.

What do you get when you cross Mr Spock and a Humvee? You can live short and asphyxiate.

I've got an idea for a replacement for oil, which is as you know, a precious natural resource. It's a car that burns wood and koala bears. It can go from zero to sixty in three cubs.

I'm sorry, that joke is sick, it's not normal. But what is normal? If everybody does something does that make it normal? The way I see it, the only difference between something that's normal and something that's totally freaking strange is the number of people involved. If one out of three do it, it's totally freaking strange. If two out of three do it, it's normal. If three out of three do it, it's communist. That's why I'm always on the lookout for human pyramids. What do you think they're doing in North Korea all day? They march and build human pyramids. That's the life over there.

These jokes have me sweating more than a toilet in a police lineup. I mean, what kind of joke is that? Why would a toilet be in a police lineup? I don't know, maybe it was doing crack?

I know, it's hard to take these jokes seriously. Acting like you're listening to someone is the easy part. Not giving a crap? That takes commitment.

Would you rather wrestle crocodiles for your job, and go to Nascar in your free time, or go to Nascar for work, and wrestle crocodiles in your free time? What is this? Sorry, that was a joke from my "southernisms" pile. It's not even a joke, really, more of a rhetorical observation.

Would you rather be shaved from head to toe, and thrown in the killer whale tank at Sea World, or - ok stop right there - that actually that sounds kind of fun, doesn't it?

I lost my keys. Fortunately I don't play piano.

I bought a guitar for ten bucks with no strings attached.

Driving on the highway these days is like playing pinball with twenty balls. Pinballs, not...never mind. I won't even go there. Hey, check out Lumpy over there. Where does he even buy jeans, I don't know.

I want a website where I can explain these jokes, but I need a good website address. I mean that's critical to the success of your website. I was thinking about making a website that monitors your nanny? Does anyone know if www.babyshaker.com is taken? It wouldn't be hooked up to real babies or anything. You just use your wii. You know, wheeeeee.

I mean, could you imagine if you could hook up your baby to the internet? You know, you're surfing, and all of a sudden one of those slow-loading, animated TV network websites pops up, and you'd be like, oh, someone's got a poopie diaper! Then Paris Hilton's website pops up, and it's oh baby's got a little throw up. Rush Limbaugh's website pops up, oh, baby needs breast feeding.

Sorry, that was what's called “topical” material. Sorry, I don't do politics. I'm not into that whole ouvre. What's an ouvre, anyway? I'll tell you what it is, it's a little free ass detector. Yeah, all kinds of 'em were dropped into the English language by the king of the asses, Noah Webster. To help people spot asses. Words like “forward”, like “let's move forward on this finacial anal violation”. “Tweet” is another one. “Synergy”, “globalize”, “green”, and “win-win”. How about “jack-ass”?

And each industry has their own special ass-detecting language. Like law: “sue”, “jurisprudence”, and interestingly, “barrister”.

The business world is rife with ass-detecting language: “Herpes. Pimp-slap”. What? It's a business.

Michael Bay, he's the director of the Transformers franchise, and The Island, which is basically the movie Parts: The Clonus Horror with explosions and no script. He's a really hot director now. I'd like to see him remake some other boring, stuffy old movies from last century. Like When Harry Met Sally. In the diner scene, Meg Ryan can just blow up.

Or Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. Michael Bay's Birds could be these giant cgi radioactive cyborgs. Alfred Hitchcock's movie never explained why the birds attached that New England town. I think Michael Bay's version can right that wrong. You know, have one evil robot overlord bird that steals a top secret jet, because you know, flying under your own power is for suckers. In the climax there can be a showdown between this overlord bird and a cgi shark hijacking a bullet train.

And the trailer would give away the surprise ending. Don't you hate that? It's like sitting through a presidential administration. It's never as good as the trailer. The trailer looks like Die Hard and the term is like Mask. Mask, not The Mask. You remember, Frankenstein meets a litte deformed boy. I'm wrong. I realize, it's socially unacceptable to liken Cher to a classic undead horror character. But that's my trade. That's what you deal in with the comedy game.

Or a Bad George Lucas movie. You know, which one was that with the muppets? The Pantsless Menace? Revenge of the Wal Mart? The Empire Strikes the Concession Stand? The Clone Sequels?

Speaking of being in a constant state of going nowhere, if you were a Star Wars character which one would you be? I'd be Jar Jar Binks so those other freaks would leave me the hell alone in my trailer.

If you wear corrective lenses in a corrective institution, do two wrongs make a right?

If a librarian misses her period can your books be late too?

I saw two guys riding a bicycle? But I don't think it was a bicycle. I think it was a gaycycle. I'm still looking for a menage-a-tricycle.

Have you ever had sex on a bicycle? No, you haven't and you know why? Nobody can pedal that fast!

Do Not Hack the Stewardesses

Mobile phones are necessary. How else can you make yourself a public nuisance without actually talking to the people around you?

Keeping up with technology is cheap. It only costs you your sanity, your dignity, and your ability to walk in a straight line.

Light jazz music is like war. It’s never over until it’s too late.

And now, the hack:

You know I once got arrested for unlawful possession of a jelly donut, but they had to throw out my case due to lack of evidence. If you’re going to steal, steal donuts.

I asked the stewardess why don’t they just make the plane out of the black box. She got offended because I was staring at her crotch at the time.

D’ya ever notice how there’s always one sock missing in your laundry? I used to cry because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had two different shoes, and then I cried because I didn’t have matching shoes.

If you give a man a fish he eats for a day, but if you teach a man to fish, he’ll want to invite you to go fishing, and that is just too early in the day for me.

“You attract more bees with honey than with vinegar.” What does that mean? You could also say, you attract more beautiful girls with money and good looks than with vinegar. What can’t you attract with something other than vinegar? I say, you’ll attract more winos with some cheap vinegar than with a full-priced imported bordeaux.

And how many bees do you need, anyway? Who’s out here attracting bees? First of all you’ve got to buy the honey, and that’s way more expensive than vinegar – what am I, King Bee Rockefeller? And then you’ve got to have some place to put the bees, unless you want to just wear them out of the store. You need the beekeeper’s hat, and the bee Barbie dream house and convertible. Hey, I just wanted some bees, I didn’t want to change my whole lifestyle!

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” You know what makes the heart grow fonder? It ain’t vinegar, I’ll tell you that. Vinegar does not make the heart grow fonder. If you give a man some vinegar, he’ll not attract bees for a day. But if you teach a man to make vinegar, he’ll not attract bees for a lifetime. I’d rather learn that than how to fish. I don’t even like fish, and I like getting stung by bees even less. Who plans that for your afternoon? Come home all fishy-smelling and covered in bee stings. I’ve got a saying for you – how about shutting the hell up and letting me sleep? You never hear any ancient philosphers saying things like that. Well – maybe St Augustine, I heard he was a real bastard before his morning coffee.

You never hear like Aristotle saying, “Did I ask for fries, bitch?” Socrates and his famous “leather shoes give me corns” quote. Demosthenes and Archimedes arguing over gladiator salary caps and sword-corking. Makes you wonder about the history that really happened that no one talked about. I don’t know, maybe whole chunks of history were big lies, that we just take for granted. They don’t speak Portuguese in Brazil. Maybe the Brazilians settled Portugal but since history is written by the victors, they wrote it to make themselves look like the innocents being conquered. Go through life with their holier-than-thou “You Conquered Us” attitude. What do you have to say now, Portugal? Ha, nothing, I thought so.

What else happened in history that people never talked about? Maybe Mark Twain had a schoolgirl fetish. That’s why he was always hanging around the playground. He wasn’t doing research for the greatest American novel, he was touching himself and making up stories.

Maybe Hitler took a long time in the bathroom. You never hear anyone talk about it either way, but he only had three options: he either he took a shorter time than usual, or the normal time, or a really long time. What if he took a really long time in the bathroom? What was he doing in there? Heiling himself in the mirror? Trimming his inverted soul patch? Plucking his eyebrows? What if Hitler plucked his eyebrows? Do you think he could have risen to power if that had gotten out?

Whenever I see a guy like that, a world leader or celebrity, I always picture them taking their morning dump. There goes l’etat. Sorry, threw in a Louis XIV quote at you. Didn’t mean to. Louis XIV, he said “L'etat, c'est moi. The State is moist.” I think he was talking about how long he took in the bathroom.

So anyway, I picture these heads of state all holding court on the big white throne, you know, reading last year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and squeezing out melodies for the secret service bugs. I bet somewhere there’s like a vault with nothing but the morning toilet sounds of all the presidents since Washington. Back then they didn’t have recorders so they had to use quill and ink to record their noises with.

Now go back and look at the last three pictures. Do you know who they are? If you can tell the difference between Sir Isaac Newton, Louis XIV and Han Solo frozen in carbonite, thank a teacher. If you can't, call a lawyer.

And the dinosaurs. Who did they think they were? Taking huge dumps everywhere. Screw ‘em!

What am I talking about? Oh that’s right, hack comedy. If you give a man a joke, he’ll laugh for a moment. But if you teach a man to write jokes, practice his delivery, enter a few open mic contests, book a gig, get up on stage, and deliver – he'll tell fish jokes for a lifetime.