Archive for April, 2010

Videos I’ve Proposed For Claymore That Have Been Rejected

1. We see the back of a person with long blond hair, down to her waiste. Cut to two guys checking her out.

Guy 1 (pulling down sunglasses): Wow, that chick is scorching.

Guy 2: Hot!

Cut to the blonde. She turns her head over her shoulder. It is Josh in a long blonde wig.

Man-blonde (with sly look): Jealous?!

Titles: That Long-Haired Guy.

2:  Two guys dressed either like frat guys, or very eccentrically sit on a couch.

Guy1: What!?

Guy2: What?!

Guy1: What!?

Guy2: What?!

Guy1: What!?

Guy2: What?!

Guy1: What!?

Guy2: What?!

From the other room, another guy pops in.

Guy3: What?!

Guy 1 and 2: WHHAAT?!

Title screen: THE WACKIES!!! (accompanied by wacky voice saying “The Wackies”)

3: A Mom with a jar of baby food and a baby spoon. She puts some food on the spoon.

MOM: Here comes the airplane! (makes airplane noises)

Cut to a full shot. We see that it’s not a baby, but a scale model of the twin towers.

MOM: Why won’t you eat?

Title Screen: 9/11 Humor: The Show

4: A film noir style, in black and white. Close-up of the face of a detective with a fedora, smoking a cigarette. Shots of him firing a gun. Action-style jump cuts, etc.

DETECTIVE (in a gruff voice): I’ll take the case.

A full shot where we see the detective is naked except for the cigarette, hat, and a shoulder holster.

DETECTIVE: Good work, partner.

Cut to a shot of a dildo sitting in a fedora.

Title: Naked Detective and Dildo-in-a-Hat


VOICE-OVER: We’ve seen them laugh. (accompanied by slow-motion clip of happy homeless person.

VOICE-OVER: We’ve seen them cry. (shot of slow-motiong homeless sadness.)

VOICE-OVER: Now, see them like you’ve never seen them before.

A shot of a homeless person walking, and then tripping and falling.

Voice-Over with Titles: America’s Stupidest Homeless People.

6: Doctor’s office.

PATIENT: Doctor, I got poison ivy.

DOCTOR: Here, try this Sarah Palin Calamine Lotion. (holds up tube, and mugs to camera. canned laughed)

Titles: (A shot of a surgical table with tongue depressers, and cotton balls, etc., and a jar labeled “Barack O-BALM-A”) Topical Ointment….Coming this Fall.

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The Stoat and The Frog

Stoat and the Frog

Beasley the young stoat kept to himself, only talking to the other stoats when hunting the local rabbit population. He enjoyed swimming in el Llobregat after a spring rain. His musical compositions were rated the highest in the summer Stoat Sun-Down Stand-Out Festival, but he would never accept the awards, as he thought it foolish and indulgent. Beasley despised the Catholic church.

Isabella the Iberian Painted Frog was the most out-going frog in her family. She was able to get all the signatures required to petition el Llobregat Hall to allow for the movement of eight stones from the west bank to the east bank. Most frogs thought this unnecessary, but Isabella thought it progress. She had a twitch in her left leg which psychologists would later attribute to the fact that she saw 78 of her brothers and sisters tragically eaten by a drunk raccoon. Isabella had only seen Flags of Our Fathers once.

Beasley and Isabella fell in love.

Bi-class relationships were not looked kindly on in both the stoat and Iberian Painted Frog species. There had been one instance of Antone the Iberian Painted Frog. After a heavy night of drinking (which oddly enough was the same night of the Drunk Raccoon Massacre), Antone had a one night stand with Maria the Spotted Fire Salamander, a self-proclaimed slut. Antone was given a public ribbit beating. However, the punitive action was more a formality. Everyone loved Antone’s antics and enjoyed any opportunity to gather on the new East Bank Rock Amphitheater (formally the West Bank Rock Amphitheater) for entertainment. And Antone, even in his drunken stupor, had the sense to stay in the Amphibia class.

Shunned from their communities, Beasley and Isabella found themselves running away to the city. To make ends meat, Beasley took up a job as an entry level IT guy at Vitelcom, and would play the night clubs on the weekend to make some extra cash. Isabella got a job at Solidario CooperaciĂłn al Desarrollo Global, a nonprofit organization. She made phone calls all day. She found time for a Bikram yoga class once a week.

Even though they were poor, they were happy. They had each other. They made dinner together every night; they watched a Clint Eastwood movie every Friday; they played Cranium with the neighbors every Tuesday; and every night before they fell asleep they whispered to each other “I love you.” Beasley and Isabella went on like this for two years, loving every minute of it.

However, Isabella wasn’t getting any younger and her biological clock was ticking. She wanted a family, and Beasley wanted to oblige her. They got rid of all their contraceptives and pills, and for eight months, every night, they made baby-making love.

By the eighth month, they were discouraged. Isabella wasn’t pregnant. They had tried every position, eaten all the right things; they even performed a sexual ritual on the summer solstice, giving themselves to Eros. But as Isabella saw the negative sign appear on her EPT in that eighth month, tears filled her eyes. She and Beasley realized they needed medical help.

Dr. Phelps sat down with Beasley and Isabella with a worried look on his face, the test results in his hand. He slowly started, “I’m sorry Beasley and Isabella, but I’m afraid you can’t have children.”

Isabella immediately started crying, licking her eyeballs furiously. As Beasley held her, he asked, “What’s the problem, doctor? Is it me? Am I sterile?”

“No. You’re fine. And Isabella is fine too. You’re both very healthy. It’s just that…well…you’re not fine for each other.”

In anger, Isabella slapped Dr. Phelps with her tongue, and Beasley hissed, showing his sharp teeth. “I thought we left narrow minded thinking in the country!” Beasley yelled.

“No! No! No! You don’t understand,” said Dr. Phelps, rubbing his sore cheek. “Your chromosomes don’t match.”

“What?” asked Isabella.

“Your chromosomes don’t match. You’re a frog, Isabella. You have 28 chromosomes. You’re a stoat, Beasley. You have 40 chromosomes. You can’t mate.”

“YOU CAN’T MATE!” screamed Isabella. “Get on, Beasley. We’re leaving!” And with that Isabella hopped out of the doctor’s office with Beasley on her back.

Even though they didn’t want to accept it, they knew it was true. They couldn’t have children. And from that point on, nothing was the same. Beasley had to work later hours at Vitelcom, and he’d often stay out late at the night clubs drinking. Isabella got highly political, putting all her efforts into campaigning for progressive candidate, Antonio Cruz. Shared dinners started slipping away. Their Netflixed “The Bridges of Madison County” was left unopened and unwatched on top of their TV, and the Cranium clay hardened.

One night, Beasley came home late, drunk from the club. Isabella was fast asleep. She had to get up early for a press conference with Antonio. Beasley stood over her as she slept, watching her breathe.

“Hey, get up,” slurred Beasley. “Get up!”

“What is it?” Isabella asked, annoyed.

“Get up. Dance with me.”

“I have to get up early.”

“Dance with me!”

“You’re drunk!”

“You’re delicious.”

And with that, Beasley ate Isabella. Isabella’s last thoughts were of her 78 brothers and sisters.

No one ever saw Beasley again after that night. Some say that once in awhile, while hiking in Galicia, one can hear “CanciĂłn de Isabel,” a song Beasley composed and was playing when he and Isabella first met.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Watch “Life” on the Discovery Channel, Sundays, starting at 8pm EST. It’s awesome.

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I once got called in for Step Up 2, The Streets (true story)

Josh's headshot

I have an audition today.

I have an audition for something that is not improv or comedy related.

No backlines to hide in.

No blaming that one person in my audition group.

No saying I didn’t get my turn.

I have an audition for something that I spent 5 years at college getting a degree in.

A degree I have not used since graduation.

A degree that is still sitting in the tube they mailed it in.

A degree that I am still paying off each month.

I have not had an audition in 9 months.

I could have made a life in that time.

I could have taken a class.

I could have not drank so much.

Nine months ago I bombed it.

I forgot my monologue that I had been doing for 7 years.

I did not prepare.

I felt like an asshole.

I lied to myself.

Said I didn’t care.

Said I did a good job.

Said I was still working towards a goal.

I was afraid.

Of being a fraud

Of rejection

Of growing up

I am back.

Getting on my horse.

Getting on with my art.

Getting over myself.

I have an audition today.

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