World Peace

I must admit, when I see the "Feed the Children" or "Sponsor a Child" commercials it does tug at my heart strings. I can't help but want to reach into my wallet and pull out a shiny quarter, pop it in the mail and in return receive a picture of Ashmael or Napur drinking a bottle of Evian. As you sit on the couch finishing up A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila or Flavor of love, the commercial cuts to starving children eating ants off the ground. "Meet Keisha. Keisha has never tasted a drop of clean water in her entire life".......and you're sitting there having just finished a 6 inch Sub beating yourself up for not getting the 12 inch because your still hungry. "For a mere 15 cents, you can provide Keisha with clean water
diapers
a new pair of shoes
toys
a bed
a memory foam mattress
Crest white strips
Apricot Body Scrub
For 15 cents? Keisha can honestly get all of that? And then you are periodically updated via mail as to how Keishas doing. The letter makes no sense because she can't spell, so it reads,

The Crest Strips haves work nice.
My mouth is white like snow fall.
My tummy is now always full.
Keisha

And sure enough, in the picture her teeth are a little bit brighter and her skin looks smoother thanks to the Apricot body scrub, and you feel good.

Happy Birthday Big Guy

I have yet to understand the whole “blow up” lawn ornament fad. Who is sitting in their living room looking out at their giant blow up snow globe and thinking, “That looks great.” The average lifespan of a blown up snow ornament is roughly 22 hours. They usually deflate, or tend to tilt to one particular side looking even shittier than they originally did. I’m blaming Sam’s Club for this trend. Sam’s club has a mission statement that essentially says, “We are dedicated to serving the laziest men and women in America who don’t have the lung capacity or the energy to make multiple trips to the grocery store. We take pride in out 32 packs of Tabasco sauce and 44 packs of raisins.” Sam’s would encourage the men and women of the Christmas season to opt for a lawn decoration that is the epitome of laziness. Plug your deflated lawn ornament into an air blower and voila, Merry Christmas. They just look bad. You could honestly put an inner tube in your lawn and it would have the same effect. Same goes for the light up nativity scenes. Ladies and gentlemen the baby Jesus is not some “trinket.” He gave light to the world and he should not be diminished to a plastic light up doll. If you want to have a light up Joseph, by all means go ahead, he wasn’t that important, but to disrespect the baby Jesus, that’s crossing the line. To have the baby Jesus sitting in front of a ranch style house next to a blow up ornament is sacrilegious. The baby Jesus might as well be sucking on a candy cane while wearing Uggs.

This Gift says "I love you"

Christmas isn't defined by gifts. I get that. It's Jesus' birthday which means that it's all about love and that those gifts should really be going to the poor. All right, I'll take the bait. I've completely given up on the whole gift thing. I could embroider a list into my moms forehead and she would still somehow end up getting me something that I do not want. "I thought you wanted an oven mitt?" It's an endless battle, and I have finally surrendered. Two of the worst gifts I have ever received came from my mother and my great aunt Sue. Mom is one of those mom's where she thinks she knows her kids inside and out and therefore poo poo's Christmas lists. She's too good for them. Instead we end up with gifts like Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul and the The Never Ending Story dvd. One year, having woken up in a fit of Christmas joy I made my way to our tree. It was a morning so splendid, that I thought for sure Jesus had chosen our family to spend it with. Everyone was smiling, snow was falling and our fireplace was ablaze. I fell victim to the christmas spirit and hugged all my family members while giving them a meaningful wink accompanied with a "Merry Christmas." I open my first gift, which pretty much sets the tone for the rest of Christmas. As I feverishly ripped through the neatly wrapped package, my Christmas instincts hinted that it was clothes. A minor dissapointment, but maybe it was something I would actually like. The wrapping having cleared I stared at the gift that lay in the box in front of me. What? This could not be right. I lifted the shirt to verify that this was actually what I thought it was. 4 letters stared me in the face. F U B U. Fubu? A fubu shirt? Still holding the shirt eye-level, I moved it ever so slowly to the left and gave my mom a quizzical look. "I just loved the vibrant colors!" The second worst gift I have ever received came from my great aunt Sue. I will cut her some slack due to the fact that she is in a nursing home, however that is not an excuse. Aunt Sue one year handed me a gift in a rather half ass fashion. "Here," she said as she shoved it my way. Apparently old age comes with an ass hole attitude, because she's a little bitter and angry. I opened up her gift to find another article of clothing. Damnit. There was no glimmer of hope in this gift, this would not magically turn into an article of clothing I would enjoy.....this was going to be shit. This gift had a different flare than the FUBU shirt, it was a jean vest. "Thanks Aunt Sue, I needed this." My aunt Sue then, without looking me in the face says, "The bottom is extended, and has belt loops." Sure enough, she was right. Instead of ending at the waist, this magical jean vest kept going to about mid thigh. It also had a map of the world on the inside of it.

Let's Get Physical

I am terribly paranoid to work out in a gym. I could care less about my physical appearance, or if my Nike's show hints of dirt, but what troubles me is I know I look like an idiot. Like a complete moron. I know some guy on the treadmill is looking at me and thinking, "What a dumbass. That machine is for your arms, not your legs." I mentally take on the role of a marathon runner. I have 2 or 3 water bottles that never leave my side. I grab complimentary towels right and left wiping off imaginary sweat while pretending to heavily pant. To be blunt, I'm a gym asshole. I jump rope. I drive to the gym to jump rope. I am intrigued by cycling and am clueless when it comes to those giant pastel colored balls. I have no clue what those are used for, but I know it's not for bouncing. I prefer to steer clear from the locker room. I don't like to wash my hands next to naked people. I never got that whole, "What's the problem? We're all women." The problem is you're all naked and your kids are naked and you're all back here having a pow wow and are showing no signs of getting your gym clothes on anytime soon. The naked ones just hang out. Their leaning against the sink, their kids are opening every available locker....I just don't like it. It's not my cup of tea. The worst is when a naked kid comes up to you and just stares at you. First of all, you can't look at the kid, because that's perverse, so you just freeze and stare straight ahead hoping they leave. It would be my same strategy if I was approached by a dinosaur. Cease all movement until it goes away.

Frederick Douglass

The other day I had a flashback to my childhood. I was not a cool kid. I didn’t have any hair until I was two and most of my days were spent face first in the carpet with a full diaper, but I was reminded of a statue that was in our backyard. Growing up I never thought it was weird that we had this statue, but looking back, it was really weird. We had a statue of a little black boy. He was about two feet tall and he was just in our backyard. Growing up, I genuinely thought this kid was real. I thought this little black boy was being punished by my parents and was forced to be outside. As I got older, people would ask about it and I thought nothing of it, “Oh, that’s just our black boy statue.” But now that I’m thinking about it, why the fuck would we have that? That’s not like having a goofy birdbath or a worthless shed…….that’s a black boy statue. Maybe it made my parents feel better? You know when people accuse you of being racist and everyone shoots back with, “No! I have a black friend!” Maybe my parents excuse was, “No way Jose, I have a black statue!” People would always comment about it too, especially at dinner parties. Conversation always went something like this, “Oh my god! You’re yard is huge! I bet the kids just love, what the hell is that?” My parents would just laugh. There was never an explanation as to why we had this little black boy in our backyard. Was it in remembrance of a long lost black brother? Were we former KKK members? I just have so many questions…….

Rashtastic

The other day I was minding my own business most likely staring off into space, or retrieving the mail or making sculptures out of pipe cleaners, which is what my days have consisted of the past few weeks, but I overheard someone say, and I quote, “That guy, man he's rashtastic.” I anticipated the other person to reply, “What the fuck does rashtastic mean?” but instead, he replied, “Yeah, he is rashtastic.” Am I out of the loop? Rashtastic? What, did urban dictionary make a contribution to society by developing rashtastic? What a shit word. I began combining words together in an effort to get to the bottom of rashtastic. Fantastic combined with rash? That’s all I could come up with. I suddenly pictured a young kid in Levis with a bull cut luring kids over to the corner of the playground. After formulating a decent sized audience, he slowly lifts up his Abercrombie tee to reveal an incredible rash. It’s a combination of vibrant colors swirling together to form an optical illusion with hints of glitter. Kids stare with gaping mouths at the rash the size of Asia that lies before them. Marcus, the loner in Mrs. Templeton’s fourth grade class quietly whispers from the back, “That’s rashtastic.” A rash so fucking incredible it exceeds a birthmark and can only be rashtastic. Kids turn around, intrigued by Marcus’ new word and suddenly he redeems himself from years of bed wetting and glue eating and snags 15 minutes of popularity. Rashtastic….spread it on.

My First Review

I have received my first review from my show, "Denises Friday Night Book Club" at Second City's skybox theater. Enjoy

One of my favorite scenes from the evening involved to co-workers, Meryl and Regina - performed by Katie O'Brien and Kristen McLaughlin. Kristen's character accidentally swears while making a mistake at the computer. Katie, her cubicle mate, takes this as an opportunity to bond and give herself permission to "unleash." In the hands of less experienced actors and writers, this scene could easily have gone blue quickly and become more about the vulgarity than about Kate's character's undercurrent of desperation to bond with her co-worker.

Megan Presslak, Katie O'Brien, and Kristen McLaughlin excel in the (thankfully) multiple female roles Greg and Brian have written for them.
^JOE JANES Joe is a writer, director and actor in Chicago. He teaches at The Second City Trainer Center and at Columbia College.