I’ve started blogging for MTV’s Clutch, a man-blog that doesn’t talk about beer and all of the crushes are under 18, so I think I’m doing the butterfly in the kiddie pool. To do my part for the youth, I point them to some of the best comics performing today.
You can read the official article, but I’m pasting my original text here because MTV cleaned it up so it didn’t read like William Faulkner wrote it drunk. Also, my version contains Robo-Stalin.
FIVE WEIRD PICTURES TWEETED BY COMEDIANS
Comedy is the art of applied absurdity, and art imitates life. What’s going on with five of our favorite comedians? Everything’s familiar, but slightly…off somehow. Are we on the Bizarro Earth? The mirror universe? The Jersey Shore? That last is too horrible to contemplate, so let’s pray we encounter our goateed doppelgangers soon.
Now you really can sleepwalk with him
“Why is comedian Mike Birbiglia living in a Macy’s window?” Spill it, because I want that gig. Midtown Manhattan is costly real estate; getting paid to live there is worth a total lack of privacy. I think that, with time, tourists will learn to see my bizarre and indeed, messy, explorations of my sexuality as a beautiful thing – a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, if you will. But one question – will Downy clean up all the blood afterward?
Two Evil Clowns & an Angel without wings
Rob Corddry, Joanna Angel, and Paul Scheer on the set of Children’s Hospital. Now I know we’re in the mirror universe, because the evil clown has an evil twin. Would that make him less evil…or more? Like if you faced Robo-Stalin, that’s pretty potent evil, but then you found out he was hunting and killing Hitlerbots, that would redeem him, right? Anyway, look at me, neglecting an adult actress with a punk streak while visions of dictators dance in my head.
This does for mattresses what Ke$ha did for pop music
Patton Oswalt’s Twitter is a tornado of fine dining, high-quality genre pop culture, and the failure of our country. Guess which one gets its moment in the sun? The excitable bard snapped this creepy picture of preschool fratricide outside of a Mattress World. So that’s the name of this parallel dimension! Mattress World…where children commit murder, porn stars sleep with evil clowns, retail giants are ant farms, and comedians become beer mascots. What’s that? Oh, you hadn’t heard?
Jim Gaffigan has his own beer
It makes sense that Jim Gaffigan has his own beer, since his act fantasizes about food and drink the way most men ponder which Victoria’s Secret model they’d seduce. It also makes sense for the pasty comedian’s face to end up on a bottle of pale ale, though a weissbier would be even more appropriate. A blonde ale, slightly less so. The only part I care about is whether drinking it will make me more like Gaffigan—because I need just enough to be charmingly self-deprecating when I ask out newly single Mila Kunis, but not so much that I turn into a bone-white Irish Catholic. You date Macauley Caulkin long enough, and that loses its appeal.
Paul Tompkins knows voodoo—no, literally KNOWS voodoo
Who’s that? Why, it’s delightfully snazzy comedian Paul F. Tompkins, a classy fellow whose facial hair has won bareknuckle brawls in Alaska. Paul, introduce us to your friend Baron Samedi. Samedi is an alcoholic bisexual, two qualities that have given the world—oh, so many threesomes, but are perhaps disconcerting when you’re the voodoo spirit of death. That’s not exactly a job you can show up at drunk, like bus driver or Russian president.
Brendan McGinley is a writer and comedian in New York. Every picture of him is weird.