to pete holmes, who asked for help making business cards
7/23/2002
I’ve attached the Word document I use for my business cards. Just open it, place the cursor in the boxes, and insert your card. Then get some perforated business card paper. Then print on it. Then put some cards in your wallet. Then go to clubs and do guest sets. Then kill. Then shake the booker’s hand and give him a card. Then go home and have victory sex with significant other. Then sleep. Then dream about sex with your hottest cousin (it’s okay – it’s only a dream!). Then have you and your hot cousin morph into a superhero team that have eye lightning and you go and zap all the people who were mean to you when you were a child. Then go into a deeper dreamless sleep. Then come up into dreaming again, this time about yourself living in a mansion sipping lemonade by the pool. Your butler comes over and it’s Dave Matthews and he sings to you.
Wake up and turn off clock radio. Go to shitty job. Don’t tell boss to die or make fun of his annoying mannerisms. Get paid. Buy groceries. Pay rent. Call bookers. Get voice mail. Hang up. Call again later. Finally get booker on the line. Remind him of your triumphant guest spot. Get booked for a weekend three months out. Act cool as if this happens all the time. Hang up phone, scream like a schoolgirl at a boy band concert. Dance around. Do the mashed potato. Wait for significant other to get home. Tell significant other that you got through to booker today. Say it with sad voice and expression so significant other will be expecting bad news. Then burst out with happy news! Lift significant other into the air and spin around. More victory sex.
Shower, eat, go to open mic, do new stuff, kill. Look at non-working open-mikers with newfound contempt. Be magnanimous. Offer unsolicited advice to anyone who will listen. Get drunk. Stumble home. Cross street to avoid potential mugger. Feel guilty because person avoided was a minority. Tell self you would have crossed if it had been a white guy of similar build and dress. Believe this. Get home. Throw up in toilet. Brush teeth. Sleep. Bide time ’til gig. Repeat as necessary for one to two years.
Gradually improve act and business card. Audition for festival. Get into festival. Get discovered by big name talent scout. Hand scout your snazzy business card. Accept profuse compliments gracefully. Do spot on Conan. Get sitcom. Get 6 picture deal. Retain foreign distribution rights. Get married. Move into mansion of your dreams. Make excuses when hot cousin tries to visit. Have children. Hire nanny. Play golf. Win Academy Awards. Try directing. Age gracefully. Play with grandkids. Get sick. Don’t whine – you had a good run. On deathbed tell everyone you’re gay (or if you are gay, tell everyone you’re straight). Give convoluted phony directions to buried treasure. Die. Slip out of your earthly shell. Rise up as spirit into heaven. Organize cribbage tournaments to alleviate the crushing monotony. Wait for friends/loved ones to join you. Put in a good word for friends/loved ones in purgatory and hell. Party with friends/loved ones once they arrive. Get bored. Sign up for reincarnation. Come back as stick bug. Marvel at life’s ironies.