The Shakeytown Radio Hour…
…has been up: http://bit.ly/9bLI8C for a couple of days now and I couldn’t be more thrilled.Once again, please do me the great honor of checking out the show. Please rate the podcast honestly & leave feedback for us via an iTunes review or email us at ShakeytownRadio@gmail.com. If you have a question you want answered, our voicemail can be reached at 626-66-SHAKE (626-667-4253). Thank you to everyone for the feedback and encouragement.
Champodcast Wishes & Podcastviar Dreams
Gene George
#FollowFriday Self Aggrandizement Edition #FF
As some of you may be aware @BrodieHubbard & I are launching @ShakeytownRadio, a podcast. “But there are SO MANY podcasts to choose from now? Why pay attention to yours?” I can see you saying to your computer screen as you read the sentences above this. Well, this podcast is different! The Shakeytown Radio Hour, unlike the hollow shells of podcasts that have come before is designed to take advantage of your body’s own natural endorphins to create a feeling of well being that OTHER podcasts cannot. OTHER podcasts may leave you feeling run down, greasy, matted, or covered in boils and sores. Not The Shakeytown Radio Hour! No.
Some say the internet “airwaves” are becoming clogged with vanity podcasts who are only interested in riding the coattails of their betters who established the medium. To them I say go back to Russia you Tsarist! Sure people remember Columbus for Discovering America but there was also room for literally thousands of other white guys to kill their own Indians and take their lands and dignity. Are any of those explorers lesser men because they don’t have a federal holiday named after them? Probably. But I digress. A vote for The Shakeytown Radio Hour is a vote for acceptance of your flaws, for transcending your frail and feeble flesh and its limitations and soaring like unto the majestic eagle into a world of laughter, lessons and…. dare we say it? Love.
Yours, so very, painfully, truly
- Gene George
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This has been stuck in my head for two days now:
Live from Burbank. It’s Sunday Afternoon.
I just killed a bottle of cheap Hungarian plonk (Egri Bikaver ’05, like 5 bucks at Trader Joes, if you are a snooty motherfucker) and watched the season finale of Saturday Night Live, America’s sketch show battlewagon, the venerable warhorse. I have to say; a bottle of wine makes it funnier.
I realized three (well, technically two) things while watching Saturday Night Live t.
One (1): I am far too personally invested in the minutiae of why SNL blows (a lot, or slightly less than a lot depending on the week). Fuck that, they’re doing the best they can under the constraints they have.
Two (1.5): When you’re in a receptive place, warm with a belly full of kebab and cheap wine it does all right. The worst thing I can say is that it’s hard to remember to fast-forward through the commercials when you’re moderately buzzed. It’s only when you’re a comedy nerd-wonk-anorak mumbling and putzing around that you find joy in pulling apart the cracks. I love comedy, but I am realizing, in this instance, my love has become a hideous Norman Bates’ Mother-esque smothering love and at some point my love of comedy will start collecting road kill and taxidermy-ing it and might just begin to kill drifters and secretaries who embezzled money from their employer in the shower of my cheap motel.
Third (2): The end. I realized that one of the most touching and appealing parts of the business of making people laugh is that camaraderie at the end of the show. Watching the close of SNL, the shaking of hands with Tom Petty &/or the Heartbreakers, the “good job kid” from Alec Baldwin, the post show wrap-up, the after-parties, the BS and the grandiose plans. I want that. I want the bruises you get, the laughs (or no laughs at all) that come from going out in front of people with words and silly faces and, whether it gets nailed down or not, being able to walk backstage and know the people you did improv/sketch/standup with did the same damn thing.
I want the handshake as I come off stage.
My Million Dollar IDEA LA NEEDS ONE OF THESE!
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My stupid bark-laugh. For @Caissie
Mystifying Rivers: A Play in One Act
Ext. Backyard Morning. Gene is trying to string a yard trimmer when Gene’s Mom engages him in conversation.
Gene’s Mom
I’m glad I haven’t seen the movie “Mystic River” ‘cause I got the book at the library sale.
Gene
Yeah?
Gene’s Mom
Have you seen it? You know with Sean Penn and Tim Robbins about some boys who meet later in life…
Gene
No, I haven’t.
Gene’s Mom
I think books are better than movies, they’re more detailed.
Gene
That’s like saying a symphony is more detailed than a painting. They’re completely different forms, each with their own strengths.
Gene’s Mom
Well, they’re certainly better for watching them walk around and stuff.
FIN
