Jeff Dunham has a five (internet) page profile in the New York Times Magazine today

Jeff Dunham's Comedy For Dummies

J. P. Williams is the Hollywood producer behind the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, which first demonstrated that there was an overlooked and hugely profitable audience for comedy in Middle America, and even he told me he doesn’t think Dunham’s act is that funny. “His material is pretty soft,” Williams said. “If you take away the puppets and close your eyes, there’s not really that many jokes there. He’s not a comic. He’s a ventriloquist. He’s got a great gift, and his gift is that he makes stuff talk and he keeps his mouth pretty much closed when he does it.”

ChechenPride (15 hours ago) Show Hide
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wow! so hard to watch this show. host ruins every moment.


MUAYTHAIEDDIE (1 day ago) Show Hide
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Poor Jeff, this fucking guy is too "Smart" for his own good. walter is trying really hard but dam the host kill's it. Hey anybody from Boston please get rid of this egghead.


quackerz312 (4 days ago) Show Hide
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wow the host for this show is an asshole and he sucks HUGE balls...he never laughed WTF?! wow i hope this host dies


ghahandi (6 days ago) Show Hide
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Fucking Preppy host.. lame. Jeff wanted outta there. It's obvious.
RepublicofSocialismZ (1 week ago) Show Hide
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This host friggen sucks.... is he still aired? BS!
URIZHEY (6 days ago) Show Hide
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The crowd sucks too.


wirevo (1 week ago) Show Hide
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Seriously... am I the only one who realizes that Jeff is a bad ventriloquist and a racist?
ScottyBoy843 (1 week ago) Show Hide
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He is nowhere near, maybe some of his puppets are racist


stevemull22x (2 weeks ago) Show Hide
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how much does the host get paid? Seriously? He sucks


pinkcheesey101 (1 month ago) Show Hide
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YES A HEAD IS FINE - ha ha, your so funny greg, jesus save this guy from life!
Audience suck scrotum too, jeff/walter ftw


Eddie820 (1 month ago) Show Hide
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Boston, so bad it makes Jeff Dunham look not funny. When will you stop failing boston?
TrueRaeder (1 month ago)
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Madams1977 (4 weeks ago) Show Hide
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Amen man. I got mad when the host said that Jeff was being racially insensitive by doing Jose. This makes me glad I went to a community college and then to a tech school...
Wulfen017 (1 month ago) Show Hide
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The host is Abhorrent...

UnitedKhmerPeople (1 month ago) Show Hide
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Greg need to shut up, so Walter can run the show.

(hey Greg, that second one was kind of nice...)

Annette Lipshitz for President

What To Write Next
by Colson Whitehead

Like this guy's novels, love his essays. He's one of the funniest guys around when he wants to be.

Nextdoor

Someone next door has got the ol' acoustic guitar out and is playing "The Gardener" by The Tallest Man On Earth.

The Gardener

I imagine this would be a fun song to play on acoustic guitar -- just ripping the hell out of it and howling along.

Into The Stream
This Wind

Shallow Grave is one of my favorite albums in a while. The Gardener is maybe the best song, but Into The Stream and This Wind make for a hell of a close. Something about Into The Stream makes everything else go silent. And This Wind is about as epic a song as you can squeeze out of a scratchy voice and an acoustic guitar.

Here begins a series in which he plays several of these songs as the sun sets, including the aforementioned The Gardener and Into The Stream.

(Look at me, all posting about music! I should do this less often.)

My mother just got gmail

me: have you used gchat before?

Sent at 1:32 PM on Saturday
Linda: is that you chris?

HIATUS

It is with great reluctance that I announce the First Ever Official Shrimp Products Hiatus. I don't like it any more than you do. In fact, I probably like it a great deal less, and you've probably shrugged and scrolled to the next entry in your RSS reader already. But I DON'T LIKE IT. Fact is, I've been real busy working, and by the time I get home lately, it's hard to muster up the effort for much Voluntary Brain Work (FACT: earlier this evening I purchased a $60 wrestling video game). And I mean, when's the last time I posted anything that was any good anyway?

Now, I don't know what the First Ever Official Shrimp Products Hiatus will look like. I may not post at all. I may post less frequently than normal. I may post more frequently than normal, but expending a lot less effort (this doesn't seem likely). Whatever it looks like, it probably isn't worth worrying about, so God bless you if you use this as your ticket to tune out for a while/forever.

To give you one final taste of what you're missing out on, here's the last entry in my notebook, written sometime this afternoon: "What happens if you shoot a jellyfish with a bullet?"

The First Ever Official Shrimp Products Hiatus will end no sooner than mid-November, and perhaps later than that. In the meantime, THANK YOU FOR READING, and I'm sorry, and I hate myself *WINK WINK*.

Full De La Croix article

'The Villain!'
Countess's Family Vows Revenge Against Ne'er-Do-Well Fencer For Surprise Divorce, Suspected Theft

Countess Stephania is reportedly 'inconsolable' after her husband, international fencing superstar Reginald De La Croix, snuck out of their mountain-top castle in the dead of night and filed for divorce the following morning. De La Croix — widely believed to be wanted jewel thief 'Le Jaguar' — also made off with several priceless heirlooms and jewels from Countess Stephania's collection, including a royal coronet dating from the 1300's.

De La Croix has a long history of ruining countesses and baronesses, but De La Croix won over the Countess and her family, convincing them he had been 'misjudged' by his previous wives. His whereabouts are unknown.

'There must be some mistake,' Countess Stephania told distraught friends and family members who rushed to her side at news of the blackguard's flight. 'Le Jaguar would never abandon me. He loved me.' De La Croix reportedly left a taunting note behind on Countess Stephania's nightstand, informing her that his feelings for her had been invented to obtain access to her jewels, and that she had been exceedingly easy to seduce. But the Countess immediately burned the letter in her fireplace, calling it the work of 'some devious imposter!'

Bad Boy Fencing Star Implicated In Yet Another Daring Jewel Heist

BYUfaq

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Christian
Ben is currently yelling at chickens

Steering mechanism

It was a beautiful fall day. The first really beautiful day of fall, the first day it felt like fall. The air was dry and just cold enough and there was no wind to speak of. I could even smell a little of the fall -- like dead leaves and fires -- behind my neighborhood's ever-present odor of feces.

I was walking to the bus. I take the bus to work. I actually take two buses to work. I take one bus two miles west, then transfer to another bus which takes me four miles east. I pass my apartment on this second bus, but it is an express, and the only way for me to get to work.

I was walking to the bus and I saw a bright green leaf on the ground, but when I got closer, I saw that the leaf was actually an insect -- one of those insects camouflaged to look like leaves. I jumped at the sight of it. I had nearly stepped on it; that would have grossed me out. It seemed to me to be a strange evolutionary strategy. I could see how it might be helpful in the jungles where there are a lot of things around that like to eat insects, but I certainly don't like to eat insects, and I love stepping on leaves. I step on all the leaves I can when I'm walking to the bus. I almost killed that bug. It spun its antenna up at me and I stepped around it.

Waiting for the bus, a young woman smiled at me. I have trouble meeting young women in my neighborhood, I think because it so often smells of feces, no one is thinking of such things. She was eating a small salad, even though it was morning. I've been told I'm cute in a bad-skin sort of way, so I wasn't surprised she smiled at me. She had a very nice dye job, but I didn't know if that was the kind of thing I should mention, so I just smiled back.

A bus pulled up and she got on it. It was heading further west, away from work. The bus driver said they were headed to Falkous, which was a neighborhood I didn't know, but I decided to follow the young woman who had smiled at me onto the bus.

She sat in a seat under the window, one of the sideways seat that face the aisle, so I took the seat opposite her. She smiled, but wouldn't look at me. She took out a beaten-up old paperback called It Was The Husband, Who Was Cheating On His Wife With Their Daughter's Kindergarten Teacher All Along. I asked her if it was good; she said it was.

The bus was moving by now, down a steep hill. We hit a bump and everyone jumped in their seats. Then another bump and an older woman fell into the aisle. We saw the driver pressing frantically on the brake, but the bus would not slow down. He screamed and jumped out the window.

I rushed up to the front and grabbed the wheel. The young woman rushed up behind me and pressed softly against my back and shoulders. You can do it, she seemed to be telling me. I turned the wheel as far as I could in both directions, but the bus would only go straight. "SOMEONE HAS CUT THE STEERING MECHANISM" I shouted. People started screaming and screaming.

We were headed for the pier. The bus skipped across the boards. I just might have an idea how to get out of this one and rescue everybody on the bus, I started to say to the young woman, but we crashed into a very large boat at the end of the pier. I hit my head hard on the wheel and blacked out for just a second. I came to and saw the young woman sprawled out across the aisle next to me, a big bloody gash across her forehead. I looked back into the bus and everyone else looked dead or unconscious too. I opened the door and stepped out.

I was bleeding from the head myself, and now how was I supposed to get to work! I started to walk down the pier when I saw a man with a moustache and pipe and trenchcoat standing in the basket of a big red hot air balloon.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, YOUNG MAN?" he called.

"I need to get to work across town," I said. I didn't know where I was, but it didn't smell like feces here. It smelled sweaty and disinfected like the inside of a volleyball.

"WHY I'M GOING THERE RIGHT NOW, IN MY HOT AIR BALLOON," he said. "WHY DON'T YOU HOP ABOARD?" I had never been in a hot air balloon before, but I didn't know how else I would get to work, so I said ok.

The man said he would drop me off at the park, which is nowhere near where I work, but I said ok. I could always take a bus from the park.

As we got near the park, he turned to me and said, "SAY, I'M GETTING OFF HERE SO THERE'S NO POINT IN ME RIDING IT ALL THE WAY TO THE PARK. YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM HERE," he said, and he jumped out of the basket, arms out like a flying squirrel's, trenchcoat billowing. I didn't watch him land.

I had never landed a hot air balloon before, but I figured I'd give it a go. You had to pull on this rope to let hot air out of the top of it to descend, so I did that for a while. I started to come down towards the park, and then I did it, I landed. I landed right on a path in the middle of the park. I could feel the bottom of the basket scraping against the asphalt. But the balloon was moving too fast, and the basket tipped over. I spilled out of the basket and got caught underneath it, tangled in some ropes, and I was dragged along the path, watching pieces of myself stick to the sidewalk behind me the whole time. And then I died.

And that, gentle reader, is why you never ever get on the wrong bus, even if, the whole ride to work, wonder if you should have, wonder why you didn't, and wonder what you're living for if not the opportunity to get on the wrong bus once in a while.