Comedy and Tragedy

Written on Saturday, June 8 (probably):

I fantasized about meeting Hank Azaria while showering today.
I know that a lot of guys will tell you that when it comes to wayward thoughts in the bath stall, Halle Berry is the one to think of.
Ingrates.
Hank has delivered so many lines I have laughed at, all without looking upon his face.
Also, I adore his scene in Eulogy when he delivers a few lines from 'Death Of A Salesman'.
This is where I'd post a clip of that performance, but no one has ever heard of Eulogy, so it's not on YouTube.
Lastly, for anyone who has seen The Aristocrats (don't play with audio at work), Azaria's version is great without being vulgar.
Now, some might think that crassity is the whole point of the aristocrats joke.
However, I think the purpose of the joke is making it your own, which Hank does excellently.
This one is popular enough to be view-able, but not popular enough to be specific, so skip to 5:57 (again, not at work).



Despite how much I talk to your mother and girlfriend, at the end of the day, I'm just not that personable.
I musn't be.
If I were, I'd know the coffee wenches' names.
(I'd also probably stop calling them wenches).
I frequent Java Blend these days.
Supplying coffee throughout Nova Scotia, they have the gumption to roast their own beans.
Pretty legit.
The area has Blend, as well as a crematorium, which also does its own roasting (corpses).
On hot days, I don't know which smells like which, but Java Blend sells smalls for $1.20, and you can't beat that.
Yet, though I've filled nearly two stamp cards, I don't know anyone's name there.
No one knows mine.
I was in line this morning, and one of the counters referred to the guy behind me by name.
"Hey Cliff, et cetera et cetera."
I was then a little jealous of Cliff.
What am I doing wrong?
Did you know that many Newfoundlanders refer to cliff - not 'Cliff', the guy in line, but 'cliff' the sheer drop as 'clift'?
Just a little culture for you.
We have some clifts in Bay Roberts.
Mad Rock is famous for being not-the-stadium in Bay Roberts.
I never knew its crags and juts until I brought Andie to them.
Knowing we were off the suggested foot path, which the signs advised against, she and I splished along the shoreline's borders.
Though it was out of my comfort zone, I followed her.
That's what love is all about, maybe.

A boy fell over similar Bay Roberts cliffs recently.
The visiting cousin of a local boy, in town from Ontario.
...
Mom was quiet that day.
At the kitchen table, I asked her what was on her mind.
She explained that she was thinking of the boy who had died that day.
What his mother must be going through.
I reminded her that many ten-year old boys died that day throughout the world, many of them tragically.
But I knew that that wouldn't matter.
Mothers share an empathy I wouldn't understand.

I'm sick of Mariah Carey.
Do you know that she's sold more albums than The Rolling Stones?
I don't particularly like The Stones, either, but I still find this upsetting.
I know she has an incredible vocal range (rack), but she doesn't even sound like a person on the high notes.