1407: Child Rapist's Lawyer
 

"I don't mean to be so dramatic, but I have to have a little integrity."

pole
 

the thing is, Anthony Weiner is just a horn dog. we've all been there. Joel on the other hand is a jackass.

I am so using "Child Rapist's Lawyer" and its French translation from now on.

I also remember other occasions where things went sour with contributors like DJ Quad and that guy in the very early years that was often a guest of the show and from what I remember was a clown and he began thinking that he was owning (for the lack of a better word) part of the show. At least what they contributed worked :P and I'm thankful. Maybe there is some nerd thing where they help you and now you owe them something. Like a quest reward.

Joel was too sensible, made excuses, complained and made Keith do a delightful rant. He could be a very nice guy with poor social/emailing skills to deal with criticism. I blame his wife. My suggestion to Joel: "Why so serious?"

For Weiner, I got bored of sex scandals after the Mini-Me sex tape.

P.S.: Look at my epic post count!!!

I'm not sure where you got the idea that EatsPaste is in the audience, however, a legitimate stand-up winner IS in the audience. That's the only recognizable person, though.

I wanted to put more KATG related people in the audience but I didn't want it to become distracting. The only reason this certain someone is in the audience to begin with is because I thought it would be a nice touch given who opened for you this year (plus he had mentioned wanting to be in a video of mine).

PS- So glad you like it though, K+C!! :)

Aweessssommmme, another Skovtacular animation on the way. Im in.

My birthday dinner
 

Growing up, my family was relatively poor. For as long as I could remember, the big birthday gift my siblings and I could always look forward to was birthday dinner. Sure, we got gifts, but it would end up being a GI Joe with a missing leg, or a grimy Macho Man action figure, something you imagined was dug out of a 25-cent bin at the flea market. We never minded much, because that's not what mattered on your birthday and certainly presents weren't the thing you looked forward to.
Mom cooked every night for us when we were growing up, but your birthday was the one time of year when you could have anything you wanted and no reasonable request would be denied. It's not like we were asking for foie gras and filet mignon, or anything like that, but the idea was that it was your day and whatever your heart desired was yours.
My sister loved homemade spaghetti, which is an easy thing to make, but very time consuming of course. My brother I always remember asking for some kind of seafood; one year shrimp, one year linguine and clams, another year a whole red snapper, which he hated, but I digress. He asked and he received. On your birthday, you would not be denied by Mom. All food requests were honored and with a smile.
My choice - my choice every year - was chicken and dumplings. The real southern-style deal I'm talking, with the flour dumplings so tender and delicious they almost melt in your mouth. I loved it. I always did. It takes a long time to cook from start to finish what with cooking the stock and the chicken and making the dough, letting it proof, shaping it, cooking it perfectly. Invariably, my birthday would usually be the only time of the year we'd even end up eating it.
The day of my birthday I didn't even need to make the request, Mom was already in action making sure I would have chicken and dumplings for my birthday dinner. I remember distinctly the brown grocery bag with celery and carrots hanging out of the top sitting on the counter. Looking in it I saw, of course, a whole, plump chicken that Mom would not only use for its meat but for the stock it would produce, a truly home-cooked meal from scratch.
My Dad was a heating oil salesman. In the late 1980's he decided to strike out on his own and start his own business. He wasn't too successful, but he did have his own truck and stored enough oil in a well in our backyard to make it economical for customers for the first few years. As things started to dry up and the cost of oil began to rise he started looking for a partner, or at least an investor to help not only replenish his stocks but expand. My Dad had big aspirations. The name Bill Bradley was one I heard often at the dinner table and even late at night as my parents argued about finances. Dad would always mention his name, Bill Bradley, and say how he was going to come around and how he would help make things easier by investing in the company.
On my birthday, my Dad calls up just as dinner is almost there. He says Bill Bradley is coming for dinner and he's bringing steaks home. My Mom asks why and my Dad says it's because Bill Bradley is allergic to glucose and anything with flour will make him sick. It's your son's birthday dinner, I remember her saying, but my Dad was sure this was the ticket. This would be the trump card in the winning hand that got Bill Bradley to finally invest in the company.
My Mom apologized, but I was heartbroken. I know how selfish it seems to say something like that, but I was. It was my day, that's how it went. Even though she told me we could have it for dinner the next night I was still upset. I remember sitting in my room listening to Bill Bradley laugh during the dinner I refused to attend. It was an awful laugh, you know the kind you just know comes from an awful person. He eventually left the house and my mom came to my room to apologize again before I went to bed. I just rolled over. That night the power went out. The food in the refrigerator, my birthday dinner, put on hiatus because of Bill Bradley, was ruined.
Mom promised to make it for me again, but she was busy working six days a week and it just wasn't an easy thing to pick up right away and start again. She would cook me my chicken and dumplings and it would be as good as I imagined, she told me.
She died in a car accident three weeks later.
Bill Bradley never invested but did succeed in taking advantage of my father's grief by purchasing his truck for a few hundred dollars a couple of months later.
If you've read this long, I suspect you're looking for a reason why I wrote this long story on this forum. I guess the situation with Joel made me think of it. I suppose the Keith and the Girl Droid app is like my chicken and dumplings - something fondly imagined, but something that will never be realized. The only thing I haven't decided is who Joel is. I'm thinking he's Bill Bradley, or maybe the drunk driver who killed my Mom that night. Who knows, maybe he's both? Shame on you Joel.

Is Keith dyslexic? I sincerely would like to know, because it seems he NEVER cites numbers from articles correctly.

Article

1,500 people, Keith, not 15,000 people.

Maybe you just have agelexia and didn't realise they were children.

1500...
 

First of all, if u listened, it was 15000 that confirmed to attend, and 1500 that actually Showed...
And the child rapists- must be the idiots, because if they where smart- snag a midget and make them dress like a school girl. If a regular guy can have his wife/gf his wife put on a school-girl outfit, why not have a midget? Its all relative.
Deuces, nukka!!!
:D

Wow ESN, that's a pretty shitty story. Well written, though.