So, I was driving into my parking spot at my condo in my old car,  a shabby Cavalier dubbed by my friend Marc to be “Lady Cavalieria”. Its real name was “American Shitbox Moneypit of Shit”. My used Honda Accord would be embarrassed of my old car.
My parking space has a concrete barrier wall, about 2 feet high on the North and East corners. It also has all the cigarette butts. It is perfect for sitting on, littering near, sitting on litter, etc.

In any case, along with the trash, the whimsical hobos also accumulate in that corner, often sitting there and ranting, or being passed out, or pooping in a bag or what-have-you. I pulled in a few days ago to find a dude reading the bible and nodding in agreement at some passage. More recently I found an empty suitcase, and before that? An entire cake. A whole, perfect, chocolate cake- made as an offering to me? More on the cake later.

On this particular sunny day, let’s call it spring, There was a murder of hobos (flock? herd? a congress?) gathered on the wall, sitting and discussing important matters. They were exceptionally drunk. Unusually hammered drunk for that time of day, which was after work- perhaps 5 PM? They would have to move in order for me to pull my car in, and they begrudgingly did so.

In any case, the convocation (romp? pod? muster?) of vagrants dispersed, and gathered themselves to travel to the shade by the entrance to my building. I waved “thank you” to them, and deplaned from my car (exited?).

The hobos and I were headed in the same direction, and from one of the I heard “Hey!” In a husky feminine drunken kind of voice. The first time I assumed it wasn’t directed at me, but again it came, like a meadowlark drowning in  vomit “Hey!”.

Inadvisedly, I turned. There she was, an aboriginal woman (”Native” in Canada is an acceptable term), about 6′6″, easily over 250 pounds, rough skinned and stoic. A mighty Amazon warrior goddess from a once proud race, now reduced travelling with a pack (coven?) of itinerant vagabonds who she could easily have crushed in her mighty arms.

“Hey. Hey sunshine.” she said.

I assumed at the time she meant me, as I was the only waifish strawberry blond fellow walking directly through her field of vision. I’m not short, but I was snack sized to this fierce huntress.

“Um, hey.” I replied, blondly.

“Hey sunshine, I like you.” She said.

“Thanks!” I said without a hint of panic. This was a woman who could have taken anything she wanted, riding the mighty plains and gathering victims or lovers in her merciless grasp. I was a man who, confronted by a woman such as she, would do as I was told.

“Yeah, sunshine. I like you”.

“Thanks!” I said a second time, fumbling with my keys.

It was a few days later that I found a chocolate cake, possibly harvested from the local grocery store, sitting in front of my parking stall. There it sat, untouched, pristine, and disappointingly unwrapped… There were 2 plastic forks sitting beside it. No note.

Was this cake for me? From her? I never saw her again. I couldn’t bring myself to bring the cake inside, abandoned there without protective covering. So, I watched it. I watched that cake for 4 days. By day 4, the squirrels and the neighbourhood cats had gotten into it, and it was ruined.

To Whom it May Concern:

Listen, we know you’re looking at us. We get it. We’re on the big side, as far as breasts go. Along with Katy’s eyes, we represent most of the oversized stuff on her. And certainly, we’ve helped her get to where she is today. Our presence requires her to build up her lung capacity, and makes it easy for her to get meetings with agents and record producers.

But lately, we feel that there’s too much attention being paid to us. Katy is a wonderful girl. She’s very kind to us, sharing lotions and various skin moisturizers. She so ever prominently featured us in her “California Gurls” video, and let us fire off giant whipped cream containers. Most girls would never dream of doing that for their breasts. While all of this is flattering, we feel you should pay more attention to Katy as whole, and not just focus on us, asking for pictures of us, etc. We’ll show ourselves when we’re ready. Maybe it will be when a photographer catches us out on yacht, or a beach somewhere, or maybe it will be in a men’s magazine when Katy reaches 14:59.

Until then, love us for who we’re a part of, not just for ourselves. Oh, and Russell, two words: Hand Sanitizer.

Love, Katy Perry’s Breasts.

This shameless promo photo of RobbieRobTown by Tyler Stalman at www.stalman.com is just the sort of thing I'm complaining about.

Dear “Sirs”:

This is the last time I visit your appalling website. I was here minding my own business, reading your supposedly “amusing” articles, when I stumbled across this tedious, self aggrandizing nonsense form your staff writer TBinns. I found the whole thing sickening, and you can read it here if you dare to be sickened:

http://www.thecorrectness.com/writing/blackout-a-work-of-microfiction-by-tony-binns/

I couldn’t believe your collective gall. Your collective gall is huge and swollen. Your gall is so swollen it is making you impudent.

The internet is no place for advertising. It is an immense public forum that runs on goodwill, and charitable government servers, and rainbow kisses. Primarily rainbow kisses. I would be immensely, immensely disturbed if anyone were to mention that RobbieRobTown has a musical going up at the Edmonton Fringe Festival. Why would you bother to tell me that he has written all the music, or that he is starring in the show? That sort of corporate pandering is deplorable, gentlemen. We have all had enough quirky puppet musicals with banjos. The Muppets got there first, and Jim Henson controls the copyright to all things fabric with banjos.

Imagine how angry I would be if you provided information about the songs, some of which can be found here:

http://www.myspace.com/robmitchelson

I would be disgusted if you pointed out that I could listen to songs from the show on that page. Furthermore, if you had the audacity to mention the following:

Rob Mitchelson’s Music n’ Such | Promote your Page too

Then I would throw up in my mouth, again and again, until the puke leaked out my nose, and possibly ears. That would be quite a feat, as I do not believe the Eustachian tube functions like that. At least the puke blockage would prevent me from hearing those catchy pop songs.

I will certainly not attend this event at any of the following times:

The Tornado: A Musical Prairie Tragicomedy runs at the Edmonton International Fringe Festival from August 12-22, 2010 at the Strathcona Branch of EPL (8331-104th Street).
August 13 10:15 pm
August 14 4:00 pm
August 15 5:30pm
August 17 6:30 pm
August 18 9:30 pm
August 19 1:45 pm
August 20 6:00 pm
August 21 2:00 pm
August 22 7:30 pm.

Who do you people think you are? I am tired of hearing about the intriguing narrative, the “fringe genre” story choices or the fabulous special guest stars as the titular Tornado nightly. What kind of show called “Tornado: A Musical Prairie Tragicomedy” would let hilarious Canadian theatre celebrities take on the most important role?

I am leaving this site forever and never coming back. I seriously mean it, not like those other people who have left the site forever and are never coming back, who you can read all about here:

http://www.thecorrectness.com/writing/cult-diaries/

Sincerely,
Some Angry Dude

P.S. Don’t you dare refer me to the website of that talented photographer.

http://www.stalman.com/

Before we begin, I would once again like to stress and clarify that these are my FAVOURITE performances. The “Best” performances would be a different kind of debate, and would, if the AFI is to be believed, need to involve a lengthy discussion of “Some Like it Hot” a movie that I appear to be completely alone in not giving a shit about.

You should also know, that my love of Python is sacred and pure, and my exclusion of them is only because they would dominate everything on the list. If I didn’t have that rule in place, the list would be “My Favourite Monty Python Guys” and the list would be only 6 items long. This is a strictly Non-Python list

So after struggling with the order, I finally narrowed it down to ten, but it proved so difficult, I felt the need to include this rather lengthy honorable mention list…

Honorable Mentions:

Kevin Kline – A Fish Called Wanda (I’m DissaPOINTED!!!!),
Steve Martin – Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (“not mother?” “Oaklahoma! Oaklahoma Oaklahoma!”) and The Jerk (“I just need this ashtray…) or The Man with Two Brains for that matter (“Get that CAT out of here!”)
Robert Downey Jr. – Tropic Thunder (For passing the phrase “Full Retard” into the vernacular)
Woody Allen – Annie Hall(“Don’t you wish real life was like this?”)
Gene Wilder – Blazing Saddles (“Yeah but I shoot with THIS hand”)
Jennifer Coolidge – Best In Show (“we could talk or, not talk…for hours”)
Fred Willard – A Mighty Wind (“Wha Happened? “ actually, Fred Willard in ANY Christopher Guest movie)
Madeline Kahn – Clue (Yes, I HATED her HATED… FLAMES!!! FLAMES!!!)
Bill Murray – Caddyshack (“Cindrella story…Outta nowhere…”)
Dan Akroyd – The Blues Brothers (“You want I should wipe da bugs off yer windshield?”)
Jim Carrey – Dumb and Dumber (“Big Gulp’s huh? Well, see ya!)
Harry Shearer – Spinal Tap (“are we going to do Stonehenge tomorrow?”)
Rick Moranis – Ghostbusters (“Ghostbusters…? Who does your taxes?”)

So with that out of the way, I present to you my

Top Ten Favourite Performances in a Comedy Movie.

10.Chevy Chase: National Lampoon’s Vacation

Call me a purist, but I don’t like ANY of the sequels to this movie. The dark edge of Vacation was quickly replaced by the broad double takes and crass one liners in its sequels. Clark Griswald was clearly an idiot, but he was a much more relate-able idiot in the first movie…certainly a more empathetic one. Chevy’s dry delivery, and put upon patience works perfectly and it makes his blow up at the end believable and hilarious. The original is a classic, thanks in no small part to Chevy Chase

9. Steve Carell: Anchorman

Steve Carell committed an act of grand larceny…he out and out stole Anchorman from Will Ferrell. This is the performance that got him The 40 Year Old Virgin, which launched him as a comedy superstar. That utterly blank stare, complete cluelessness, desperate to keep up with the machismo around him. Almost every phrase he utters is a gem. But Will Ferrell needn’t worry because number 8 is…

8.Will Ferrell: Elf

Pure unabashed joy. I laughed over “Good News, I saw a dog today!” for days afterward. Now to be fair, I’m a complete sucker for Christmas, but I think we can all agree if there is a character tailor made for Will Ferrell’s gifts, it’s Buddy the Elf. No one does over the top enthusiasm better. I wasn’t a Will Ferell fan until I saw this movie.

7.Peter Sellers: Dr. Strangelove

Jesus, where do I start? Perhaps I’ll start by griping that this comedic performance for the ages was ROBBED of an Oscar by David Fucking Niven sleepwalking his way through “My Fair Lady”. If you ever doubt that comedy will always be a second class citizen on award shows, you need look no further than that. All three of the characters Sellers played in this movie are NOTE PERFECT, but I have a special place in my heart for the President… “Demitri…? How do you think I feel?” This is a comedic genius at the height of his powers

6. Catherine O’Hara : Waiting for Guffman

No one does purposely bad acting better than Catherine O’Hara. It’s almost like she embarked on a 5 week tour of small town amateur theatres to prepare for the role. She has every nuance down, the weird rising inflection, the grade school hammy acting, the awkward shuffling stage movement, and the inflated sense of importance. She is great in everything she does, but this performance is so layered, and so funny, it stands head and shoulders above just about everything else she’s done.

5.John Belushi: National Lampoon’s Animal House

This one is as much about the iconography as it is the performance…this list would be woefully inadequate without a mention of Bluto. The scene where they are sneaking in to the stables alone is worth his inclusion, that’s not even mentioning The Pep talk (Both to Flounder and to his recently expelled Deltas) and the Ladder scene. Belushi was a star the minute he set foot on the stage at Second City…this is the movie where he let everyone else know it.

4. Christopher Guest: This is Spinal Tap

This is a standout performance in a movie that is wall to wall great performances. And not just through the oft quoted bits…one of my favorite scenes is when Nigel goes back to the dressing room to tell his former band mates that Sex farm is charting in Japan. (“Spinal Tap’s recording of Sex Farm?”) He says more with a look and a shrug than most actors say with a three page monologue. Go back and have another look at that scene, even so called “Dramatic actors” could learn a lesson or two there.

3.Leslie Nielsen: Airplane

Once upon a time , Leslie Nielsen had no clue he was funny. That became the key to his success in Airplane, which is played stone cold straight no matter how absurd things got. For awhile, there was no one better for Zucker Abrams style lunacy. But, as he got cast in more and more comedies, he started “trying” to be funny, and it devolved into shameless and painful mugging, until he was a direct to video shadow of his former greatness. But we will always have this performance in Airplane, one of the funniest performances in one of the funniest movie’s ever made.

2. Richard E, Grant: Withnail and I

He is a selfish, arrogant, cowardly, manipulative, irredeemable alcoholic bastard, and by the time the movie is over and he is reciting Hamlet in the rain at Hyde Park damned if you don’t love the guy. Or at least feel for him. This is a brilliant, insanely quotable performance, one that will follow Richard E. Grant around until the end of his days. (But somehow, I don’t think he minds) It takes a lot of doing to make this monster human and likeable. When you consider Grant is a complete teetotaler, it becomes even more impressive.

And my Favourite performance in a comedy movie…

1. Bill Murray: Ghostbusters

“I’m so excited…you are about to find out who to call”

-Zombieland

I had a “Ghostbusters quote-a-thon” on my Facebook status recently and 98 percent of the quotes came from Bill Murray’s Dr. Peter Venkmen. He is throwing away lines most actors would kill for with a casual shrug because there are so many more coming. There is never a moment in this movie when he is NOT funny, and it all looks so fucking EFFORTLESS. He is the only guy in the world who can look goofy and cool at the exact same time. When you say “Bill Murray” this is the role you picture…the laid back sarcastic shyster, this role more than any other sums up why we love the guy so much. He made the line “I’m gonna check the fridge” funny, for God’s sake. I wouldn’t have thought that was humanly possible.

So there it is…another list for you to debate with me and amongst yourselves. Did I miss anyone? Let me know!

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.”

Arnold counted again, carefully, one every second.

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well boys, I don’t have to tell y’all that four Mississippi rivers is approximately three more Mississippi rivers than the US Geological Survey expects to see at any one time.”

He and the boys looked on, dumbfounded. “What the hell are we gonna do with 4 Mississippis?”.

“Irrigate?” Offered one of the boys.

“I’ve had just about enough out of you, Cletus.” Retorted Arnold.

Well, now I can cross “See a Beatle live” off of the old life list. My Hetero Life mate Trevor and I attended the Ringo Starr and his all Starr Band concert. Ringo said early on he just wanted people to have a little fun…and we sure did. Sometimes at his expense, but never mind that. His all star band included Edgar Winter, who was AWESOME by the way, particularly on “Frankenstein” . Rick Derringer, who I did not know was a member of the McCoys and they NAILED the vocals on “Hang on Sloopy”. (Who among us did not spend our whole childhoods thinking it was called “Hang on Snoopy?”) Gary Wright who believed he could get us through the night, a dude from the Romantics who told us what he liked about us, and someone from Mr. Mr. who took some broken wings and made them fly again.
All in all a super fun night. Made more fun by our constant commenting to each other. Here is a short sample for you to enjoy.

“Auuuughhhhhh!!!! A Beatle doing BEATLE SHIT!!!”
-Trevor , taking a moment to appreciate the significance of what we were doing that night, in the middle of “I wanna be your man”

“He looks like a photo negative of a Ramone”
-Trevor, upon seeing Edgar Winter live for the first time

“Okay…strap in for the suck”
-Tony, after Gary Wright was introduced and played the first few notes of “Dream Weaver”

“Uhhh is he wearing a SWEATER?”
-Trevor commenting on Gary Wrights’s Rock and Roll outfit

He looks like Mr. Rogers out there …’Can you sing Dream Weaver…sure, I knew you could’ “
-Tony, in response

“I miss Dream Weaver.”
-Tony, midway through a song off of Ringo’s new album called “The Other Side of Liverpool”

“I don’t think Eddie Van Halen is shitting himself right now”
-Tony, during Rick Derringers Guitar solo

“I think ALEX Van Halen just went “Meh”
-Trevor in response

“Yeah, THAT’s one of mine.”
-Ringo, to some guy in the crowd who shouted out “Let It Be”

“Ringo is doing some weird shoulder thing…look”
-Trevor, during “Broken Wings”

“Man, if Ringo STARR gets bored playing your song, it probably sucks”
-Tony in Response

“Hey THAT’S not one of your songs either!”
-Tony , when they closed with “Give Peace a Chance”

Peace and Love, everyone, from Trev, Tony and Ringo

Mayor Amber Harris breathed a sigh of relief as she looked out her window into the blackness and saw and encroaching wave of light rushing across each building downtown. Then, her own office lights came back on. The blackout, mercifully was over, but the damage had been done. There had been looting, car accidents, panic, false reports of a terrorist attack and so much more that needed to be dealt with, but for now, at least her city had power. While she was rebooting her PC, her phone rang. She had been expecting this…
“Mayor Harris, it’s Ed Garrett down at Cityworks…”
“Hey Ed, thanks for getting the power up, what happened?” she asked
“Well, it all came down to one outlet, some wires got frayed on the input unit, and set up a chain reaction…” he said, wearily.
“Input unit?”
“Yeah, seems the high end electrical plugs were not in the budget this year and they just conked out”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute” Amber said, starting to get annoyed, “You mean this whole thing was just about some cheap plug?”

THE END

About The Author:

Tony Binns has just written and will be appearing in Glenngarry Glen Beck , a hilarious sketch comedy show with his fellow Obscene But Not Heard troupe mates at the at the Calgary Fringe. All shows will be at the Alexandra Centre in Inglewood, the showtimes are as follows:

He is currently expecting his first child along with his wife, Amber who will also be attending Glengarry Glen Beck and will most likely be visiting Calgaryfringe.ca for her tickets and she urges you to do the same. Tony was a nominee for the Giller prize in 2009 for his novel “Hey, Come and See Me Headline at Yuk Yuks This Weekend”. He has two cats, who would go see Glengarry Glen Beck if they could.

At 22 years old, Emily was hardly the youngest housewife in West Cloverdale. Indeed, she like so many other attractive young women had carefully played by the rules, attracted themselves a husband, and been swept away to the suburbs.

Though not the youngest, Emily had one thing going for her- one thing, set aside a prizewinning pair of legs from a darker period of her life when she danced naked for beatniks. The “Miss Rack 1958″ contest had been a battle hard won for her- No, what Emily had going for her was that she was smart as a whip.

For some number of months, she had lived out the life she had dreamed would fulfill her- Dressing for her husband, undressing for her husband, vacuuming in high heels, cooking roasts in a ridiculous garter belt, all precisely as she had anticipated. Even the sex had been exactly as satisfying as she had expected- which is to say “not at all satisfying”, but Emily had been well groomed, and was prepared for all kinds of sexual mediocrity.

Having discovered ways to entice her husband Gary with sexualized domestic tasks, she had freed up time during the day to continue her experiments. Having coyly seduced Gary into providing her with an increased daily allowance, she had the means to call in an excavation crew, and build an immense secret laboratory in the basement. The neighbours, whom Emily had informed of some bomb shelter construction, were none the wiser, and the right flip of the hair and sparkle of the eye had given Emily unprecedented discounts from the trades assisting her during construction. Indeed, had Emily the inclination to go into general contracting, her costs would have been easily 80% less than anyone else. Even she was amazed by the amount of concrete one can get for free with just the right outfit- and a blowjob- just the right outfit and a blow job.

In any case, on this particular Wednesday morning, she kissed her husband goodbye, and not two minutes after he departed, a courier showed up with the last of the instrumentation she would need. Much of the equipment was on permanent loan from a nearby university, where she had found the gentlemen of the physics department particularly easy to convince. Emily recalled with a chuckle that she had spent hours moisturizing her lips for naught. So dumbfounded were the physicists by the sincere interest of a beautiful young woman that they had simply donated their equipment without the necessity for even one quick handroll.

With practiced restraint, she looked puzzled at the heavy contents of the courier box, smiled coquettishly at the courier driver and, immediately upon his departure, bolted the front door and descended into her lab. The entrance was directly beside the bomb shelter which she had, in fact, put in. While the bomb shelter was behind an obvious metal door, her laboratory was disguised behind a storage shelf labeled “feminine needs”, ensuring her husband would never dare to approach it.

Arriving in the nerve center of her laboratory, she flicked on the overhead lights and set about her work. A big as a football field, and perhaps 300 feet tall, the room was filled with metal cabinets, buzzing and whirring. Emily heaved the large, freshly-received cardboard box up onto a work table, and opened it with her switchblade ( A personal security measure she always tusked in the thigh band of her stocking). The box was full to the brim with metal-oxide transistors. Having had a similarly easy time getting a referral from a fellow at Texas Instruments to her effortless success on the equipment loan from the physicists, a more than eager Doctor Winthrop had arguably broken seven national security laws, and told Emily extensively about the work being done at Bell Labs on new miniaturized transistors. One polite site visit later, and hardly more effort than unbuttoning one button more than necessary, and she was essentially swimming in tiny black silicon transistors.

Soldering the last panel for her supercomputer, Emily laughed to herself at the folly of her good friend Gwendolyn’s advice. “Use tubes, Emily, they are cheaper, and easier to find!”. Gwendolyn was a dear sweet woman, and handy as she may have been with what sorts of logic sets were Turing Complete, she was out of her element when it came to ray gun design, most certainly.

Finished at last. Emily hastened to invite her entire knitting club over to see the finished product. Gwendolyn arrived first, followed by Cynthia and Cathy. Credit to the girls, they all arrived dressed to nines, even when it was ten fifteen in the morning. The fact that most of the ladies refused to wear anything but high heels had necessitated the welding of small stepping plates onto the entire launch gantry, costing Emily a week of time. Cynthia had badly burned herself with the acetylene torch, and had to rush home to prepare a turkey dinner for plausible deniability. The ladies were all eating turkey leftovers for a week after that.

Cathy let out a low whistle. Even she, having worked so hard on this project, was amazed by the result. A rocket in a silo beneath Emily’s swimming pool, banks and banks of telemetry equipment, the most complex radio remote system ever invented, and a satellite mounted ray gun that would give the ladies everything they had ever dreamed.

Gwendolyn looked in awe. “How did you solve the power issue? We never got the solar working”.

“Plutonium. Ten kilos of weapons grade plutonium” replied Emily.

“Shirt button?” Asked Gwendolyn, optimistically.

“That one was a blow job”. Emily replied, with slight distatse.

“Fucking feds.” Cathy added.

“Ladies.” began Emily, “Tomorrow is the fourth of July. And there will be enough uncontrolled fireworks going off that no one will notice our rocket launch. Cathy, do you have the hors d’ouvres prepared?”

Cathy nodded. Gwendolyn piped in “Everything is ready for the barbecue at my place. Norman is convinced it takes half an hour to prepare my “fresh” lemonade, and that should buy two of us at least enough time to launch the rocket. That reminds me, Cynthia, can you make some lemonade with me early tomorrow, and we’ll pop the rinds in the deep freeze?”

“Not a problem.” said Cynthia “I have airport radar resolved, but little Timothy still has the croup, and I missed the meeting on NORAD.”

“Awww!” Cooed Emily “How is little Timmy?”.

“I’ve got a wet compress on his head, and I gave him an aspirin.” said Cynthia.

“well, I hope he feel better for tomorrow, I made jello salad for the kids table, with marshmallows”. Said Emily. “But let’s get down to it. Between Cathy and I we have dispensed no fewer than eight blow jobs and 4 topless dances at NORAD, and their tracking won’t be a problem.”

“I’m all ready to make the broadcast announcement, and the helicopter is fueled” said Gwendolyn.

“Did you get that stain out of the cockpit seat?” Asked Cathy, tugging nervously at the hem of her immaculate silk cocktail dress.

“Baking soda” Replied Gwendolyn.

“The last decision is to choose a target, ladies.” said Emily. They looked at each other for a long time. none had given the target much thought. The silence continued for some time.

“Look, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, and you can’t build an atomic death ray without irradiating a few cities.” said Emily.

“What about Moscow?” Cathy offered.

“Probably trigger a nuclear response. No, it has to be domestic”. Emily said.

“So Tokyo is out”. said Gwendolyn, sliding her cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her slightly upturned nose.

“I’m afraid so. plus, Japan is where I got all these transistors.” Emily said. The ladies all nodded in agreement.

There was another excruciating pause. Finally Cynthia spoke. “Chicago. Start with Chicago. If they don’t meet our demands, then… then move on to San Fransisco.” There was another pause, and the ladies all looked at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Chicago it is. I never liked blues music.” said Emily. “there is only one more thing, girls. It’s time for the pillow fight in the soapy bubbles.” And with that, Emily pulled down hard on a lever, wild jazz began playing, and these 4 beautiful housewives/scientists had a lesbian orgy like you couldn’t possibly believe.

The first thing I’d like to make clear is that this is a list of personal favourites. It is not a “Greatest” list. There are several comedians who are by all accounts GREATER in a broader context. I call it the “Citizen Kane” effect.

Citizen Kane is considered, by and large to be one of the greatest movies ever made. It rounds out damn near every top movie list. It was daring, innovative , and complex. However, I wouldn’t put it on even my top 50 list. I can acknowledge its importance, respect its legacy…and just not enjoy it as much as something perhaps a little less ambitious.

The stand up comedy equivalent of Citizen Kane for me is Lenny Bruce. He was a pioneer, an innovator, in many ways the father of modern stand up comedy. I just don’t really enjoy what he did all that much.

Now that said, comedy is a bit like music for me, what I’m into at the time can change depending on where I’m at in my life. Think of this as a snapshot of who I am at this precise moment. The list, the order, and the comedians themselves can change in a year’s time.

So let’s get on with it shall we?

10) Mitch Hedberg

You know it took me a little while to warm up to Mitch. I found his accent and his delivery off putting, to the point that it obscured the material for me. But once I got past it, I found myself fascinated by his “laid back southern stoner meets Steven Wright” style musings. The downside of course is that every amateur night in every city is filled with guys who try to copy the delivery without even half of the style, ease and genuinely weird wit.Mitch left us far too soon but has left a few really great comedy albums to remember him by.

9) Steve Martin

I completely wore out my brother’s “Wild and Crazy Guy” 8 track tape. I watched “The Man with Two Brains” on a constant loop on Superchannel. I watched “The Jerk” on a small black and white TV in my room because my mother didn’t want to see “That crap”. At the time, I didn’t realize he actually WAS a bad comedian (on purpose), I just responded to the goofiness in a way only a kid can. Later I came to admire how layered his performances were, and even came to admire him for walking away from them forever. BTW, I saw The Man with Two Brains again recently…it’s still really funny.

8. Bill Cosby

The only reason Cos is so far down the list is because he is so far down memory lane. He is a big part of my childhood, sitting in the basement listening to “For Russel, my Brother, Whom I Slept With” over and over again, and giggling my ass off every time. I’ve seen him twice now, and he is an absolute master…he takes his time, and chooses his spots with impeccable timing. Even in track pants and a sweater, just sitting in a chair, he is riveting.

7) George Carlin

Like Cosby and Steve Martin before him, this is a guy who belongs not just on this list, but on the list of all time greats. Class Clown should be compulsory listening for anyone even THINKING of setting foot on a comedy stage. I saw him twice during the Cranky Misanthrope years, and I am I very glad I caught him live…before he wasn’t. He opened with “Good Evening ladies and gentleman. I would just like to start by saying FUCK LANCE ARMSTRONG! FUCK HIM AND HIS ONE BALL!!!” I don’t think I ever laughed at an opening line quite as hard as that.

6) Pre 9-11 Dennis Miller

Before the attacks on 9-11, Dennis Miller told it like he saw it, with no specific affiliations. He was one of the best weekend update correspondents, and I admired how he just made the references he wanted to make without worrying whether or not the audience would get it. I did get it more often than not, which made me feel like I was in an exclusive club. He was a huge influence, and to this day I still have a few Dennis Miller inspired jokes in my act. (For instance… “Religion is like alcohol, in small amounts, its warm and comforting… too much and you instantly become an asshole”. I have to fight the urge to shake my head slightly when I tell that joke) Then after 9-11 he took a big jump to the right, and embraced the Fox news POV. No matter what your politics are, I think we can all agree that the left has a much better sense of humor, and I think Dennis’ comedy, and reputation suffered. He’s not dead, but in a way, I still miss him

5) Jim Gaffigan

The guy talked about food for an hour. And all of it was funny. Here’s someone who can take something as mundane as cake and make the tears stream out of your eyes with laughter. He has an odd, self deprecating, almost gentle style, punctuated with hilarious interpretations of what his audience is thinking. (“Oh, he’s a pale fella…”) You could even listen to Gaffigan in front of your kids, it’s clean, clever, without even a trace of anger. If you haven’t seen it, go to you tube and look up his signature bit “Hot Pockets” you’ll thank me. Then you’ll never eat another Pizza pop. Then you will thank him.

4) Billy Connelly

Some comedians are just greater than their material and Billy Connelly is just one of those guys. Billy’s PERSONALITY is funny and it comes through every pore of his being. He could go off on a tangent about anything, a pair of slacks that caught his eye, something somebody in the audience said, whatever. It doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, it’s the way in which he talks about it. He just does what he does, has the audience doubled over with laughter and he makes it seem so damned natural and easy. There’s a whole lot of Billy Connelly in Craig Ferguson. (Or at least there was last night” Ferguson would say at this point, making his “Nancy Boy” face) If you get a chance to see him ramble on about very little, do so. Great storyteller.

3) Steven Wright

“Steven Wright is one of the most prolific and gifted stand up comics of our age” – Barry Katz, after a complete Douchetard asked what Steven Wright had done lately

I often hesitate to use the words “Comedic genius” to describe comedians but Steven Wright comes as close to the term as anyone. Wright is layered, original, smart, bizarre and hysterically funny. He’s throwing metaphysical curveballs out like it was nothing while the rest of us in the comedy world are still pitching underhand. His comedy is the product of a lightning quick mind slowed down to a snail’s pace and delivered with flawless deadpan. I have also had the privilege of seeing him live. He opened with “I wish my first word was “Quote,” so that on my deathbed I could say “Unquote”. The e-mails you occasionally get forwarded to you are only about 60% his material, if that, and does him no justice at all. See him live if you can.

2) Louis CK

I truly believe Louis CK is the George Carlin of our generation. He’s got Carlin’s insight, his bite, and his gift for forcing you to look at what you accept everyday in a whole new light. If anybody else referred to their 5 year old daughter as an asshole, you would immediately want to boo them off stage…but I have to say, he makes an excellent case. He is brutal in his honesty and spares no one, least of all himself. As an interesting experiment, check out Jim Gaffigan’s bit about Cinnabon, then compare it to Louis C.K’s. Gaffigan has a light, “Oh well, I’m a huge slob, whattaya gonna do?” vibe. Louis on the other hand, is filled with utter self loathing and despair, it’s as much a cry for help as it is a comedy bit. I’m kicking myself for missing him the last time he came through, but I ‘m sure I’ll get my chance, he’s getting bigger and better all the time.

1) Patton Oswalt

“Werewolves and Lollipops” saved my stand up comedy career. Allow me to explain.

I was pretty much done with stand up. I hadn’t written anything new in ages…and I didn’t care to. I had nothing but contempt for my audiences, at this point it was a paycheck…not even a good one, that I had to travel out to the middle of nowhere to get. I was right on the verge of packing it all in for good.

Then on the way to a gig, one of the comedians on the bill with me threw in “Werewolves and Lollipops” by Patton Oswalt. When I finally caught my breath and my head stopped aching from laughing so hard, I found myself having renewed faith in both Stand up comedy and my act. He was a nerd, just like me, and an absolute wordsmith. Each turn of phrase was worked to absolute perfection. “KFC Bowls” is a shining example of precision of language and how it can be used for maximum effect. He can be brilliantly articulate one moment and degenerate into complete gibberish the next, and in both cases still be equally funny. He has got to be one of the most quotable comedians working today.

He turned me around and made me believe that something worthwhile COULD be done in stand up and I started loving it again the way I used to. I write more, I try stuff more, I’m more open and relaxed on stage. Nobody in their right mind gets into this for money or fame. If you don’t love it, you have no business being in it. He clearly loves it, and he made me love it too.

Get Werewolves and Lollipops, and while your are at it get My Weakness is Strong. They are a masterclass for any humor writer.

Now, before I go…allow me to use my Jim Gaffigan audience inner monologue voice for a moment.

“Ohhh but wait a minute…What about Bill Hicks? You didn’t put Bill Hicks on the list. I don’t think you’re a very good comedian if you left out Bill Hicks.”

Well, in answer to that…I haven’t heard a lot of Bill Hicks. What I have heard I have enjoyed, but his take no prisoners style has inspired more comedians to behave like total douche bags, both onstage and off than you could possibly imagine. He is therefore not on the list, just on principal.

So, faithful readers, who do you like?

(Oh, if you’re in Edmonton this weekend, I’m playing the YukYuks at the Century Casino. Come out and see if I make your list.)

Apparently, he’s got one.

On Sunday, the wife and I decided we would head out to the farmer’s market at Currie Barracks. I usually stop in two places there for sure, the place where I get Farmer’s sausage, which is like bacon but 6-8 times the awesome, and Simple Simon Pies, which are 6-8 times more awesome than that, even.

I was proudly wearing my Correctness T-shirt at the time. Not so much in an effort to advertise, as it was part of my life long quest to associate myself with something that has a logo. When I stopped at the sausage place, a sprightly young lass behind the counter said “Oh my God, WHERE did you GET That SHIRT?”

“Uh we made it” I said, confused. I was focused on sausage at the time, any distraction at that point would send me reeling.

“I love that site. It’s like crack to me.” she said.

Well, how could I do anything but beam at this point?

“Oh, well, I’m a writer for the correctness, I’m Tbinns.” I said, trying to sound humble and waiting for the wave of adulation that would surely follow.

“oooohhhh.” She said.

Now, let’s discuss that “Ohhhhh” for a moment, because the tone of this “Ohhhh” is important.

This was not “ooohhhhhh that’s so great.” Nor was it an “ooohhhh that makes sense why you’d have the shirt.” Or even “oooohhh I have seen the face of pure comedy at last, I am now complete as a human being.”

This was the kind of “oooohhh” that usually follows the sentence “My cat just died.” The kind of “ooohhh”that is traditionally followed by “That’s too bad” or “I’m sorry” or “ I guess we aren’t going to the zoo today and having ice cream.” It was a pungent and heady mix of sympathy and disappointment.

“I’m more of a Robbie Robtown girl.” She said.

And that was the end of that little trip to Egotown

I was chatting to her about how I too was a fan of Rob’s work , all the while basking in the irony that someone who sells giant sausage just emasculated me in that way. But she was a very pleasant girl (I think her name was Amanda) and we chatted a bit about Comic –con, and whether or not she would be inclined to purchase said shirt, and how she thinks she met Rob once but wasn’t sure…etc.

She took a break in her abject Rob worship long enough to sell me some sausage, we said our goodbye’s and said once again how much she enjoyed the blog.

Now, Rob, as you loyal readers know, is the only single member of the Correctness. This encounter with one of his ,I am assuming numerous, female fanbase got me thinking we should probably take advantage of his internet fame in the time honored way most people do, and at least try to hook a brother up.

That’s why I am officially announcing, without his knowledge or consent, the WIN A DREAM DATE WITH ROBBIE ROBTOWN CONTEST!

Don’t worry about the whole him not agreeing to this at all thing…Dave and I are bigger than he is, he’ll damn well do as he’s told.

The contest is open to anyone, even males (I think it’s time we broadened his horizons) to enter, just tell us what your dream date with Robbie Robtown might entail. Feel free to add poo jokes. He likes those. Contest Closes August 1st.

The winner gets a night out on the Robbie Robtown!

Oh, and unlike our previous contest, we will totally follow up and actually give out the prize. And by totally, we mean probably. And by probably we mean hopefully. And by hopefully we mean don’t hold your breath, but it might happen someday.

Good Luck…and thanks for the sausage Amanda.

(Please note contest not open to Rob’s family, or residents of Quebec. Although sex is implied it is not guaranteed, The Correctness is not to be held responsible if all he wants to do is cuddle and talk about his day)