In the wake of the closure of New Jersey’s only public television station, lawmakers have put forth a plan to divide New Jersey into two parts and offer the sections to their respective neighbors, Pennsylvania and New York.
The move has been met with a mixed response. State agencies in both New York and Pennsylvania will scramble to revise vital statistics records for the nation’s most densely populated state, which will now show births, deaths and marriages to have taken place in their new states. While the project will create hundreds of long-term temporary jobs in both states, it will require tax hikes that will wipe out any savings New Jersey residents may have hoped to see as they join the tax rolls of their new home states. Residents of New York and Pennsylvania are also not happy to gain New Jersey’s financial troubles.
(Taken from the obituary section of the New York Times, May 31, 2211)
Carter Thompson, believed to be the last survivor of the long and troubled preview audiences during the Julie Taymor era of Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark, died last week at the age of 106 at his home in Allentown, Pennsylvania, according to a family spokesman. It is believed that he died of natural causes. Although Thompson was a long time electronic car mechanic, devoted husband, father of three children, grandfather of six and longtime member of the Rotary Club, he is best known as the longest living member of the SMTOTD preview audience of the troubled Julie Taymor era. The last other surviving Julie Taymor preview audience member, Lenore Daw, died last year at the age of 112.
I was introduced to the work of Tom Scharpling when I started listening to the podcast of The Best Show on WFMU as a way to kill time at work. The show features a mix of Scharpling sounding off, and contending with an endless supply of insane callers, including Jon Wurster (of Superchunk, The Mountain Goats, and many more), who has worked with Tom to create hundreds of character based sketches, and eventually the fake town of Newbridge, New Jersey. Add the fact that the show is an invariable tastemaker (with frequent guests such a Paul F. Tompkins, Julie Klausner and other great comedians, musicians and artists), and you’ve got a unique, modern take on the classic, golden age radio show. I loved the show so much I checked out his other work, most notably the USA show Monk (which he wrote/produced), which was equal parts captivating, touching, and funny at times. Scharpling also contributed to multiple shows on Adult Swim.
Tom granted me the chance to do an interview before a Best Show one night, and was nice as could be. He’s also one of most naturally funny people I’ve ever seen, who can start joking around in the middle of the most serious of discussions, without coming off as just “doing material.” Afterward, he let me sit in the studio on air, which was like a comedy fan’s dream come to life, watching him go off on everything from bullies to Beatles Fest. This was our conversation.
Todd and I spend my last few hours in Los Angeles getting a nice breakfast of fruit before he drops me off at the light rail, to make my way to the airport. I’m always anxious about something going wrong while traveling, but today I’m on a tight deadline; my last show of the tour is tonight, at Gilman Street in Berkeley. When I get to the airport and through security, I’m all right; I have enough excitement in my life, and I’m happy to sit around and be bored for a few hours. Then my flight is delayed.
I get a phone call, from a computer saying, “We are letting you know that your departure time has been upgraded,” to which I think, “I don’t think you actually know what ‘upgrade’ means, computer.” Upon closer examination, the delay is only fifty minutes, and I’m flying to Oakland. I figure that’s not bad, and I’ll be fine. The plane doesn’t show up until moments before we’re supposed to have taken off, and by then I’m stressing out, but they suddenly rush everyone aboard. As I take my seat, the crew announces, “As we’re running a little late, please hurry and take your seats. We’re not telling you to hurry, but, hurry up.”
The first day of having nothing to do or anywhere to be is a huge relief. For now, I’m staying with my friend Chris who flew down from the Bay Area and got a hotel room by the theater. We spend the day walking all over LA with the rest of my bandmates, taking in the sites and nice weather despite it being January. I still feel like a big shot that’s finally getting to relax and enjoy everything. Later on I get dinner and walk around Santa Monica with my friend Matt, though my confidence is gradually being replaced with weariness.
The next day, Chris checks out of his hotel room, and we spend some more time walking around exploring the city. It’s still fun, but now that we’ve checked out, I’ve got all three of my bags with me; my guitar, my travel backpack, and my duffle/sleeping bag. I like to think it’s easy enough to do, but after a while, it wears me out. But we’re both exhausted, and take some time to rest for a while before splitting up and going our separate ways.
I recently decided the easiest way to be a famous author is to write a blog about doing something every day for a year. However, as many people have already done this, finding an original idea was, shall we say, might prickly. What follows week is my new project: to think of 365 unworkable bad ideas, one a day for a year!
Thanks so much for looking after our place (and Cosette and Eponine!). As we said, we can’t pay you, but the place is yours. Like all New York apartments, it has a couple quirks, but we think they’re charming!
We’re pulled off the highway somewhere in Texas, waiting to hear from some people whether Chris (who we threw out earlier, due to his antics) is already in Austin, or missing. I’m riding in the car, which has pulled into an empty church parking lot, and I’m walking around, getting some air and enjoying the last moments of daylight when we receive confirmation: Chris is in Austin.
It's been a good day, getting to shower and clean myself up, but all my weariness comes back, between fast food for dinner, and knowing that no matter how funny this is now, it’s inevitably going to get awkward. Despite everything, I’m anxious to see Austin. While I’ve enjoyed the state so far, it’s nice to be in an actual new city, and not just the suburban sprawl. We stake out a spot about ten minutes away from the venue; as far as Chris knows, we’re still in Waco, tirelessly searching for him.
There are two shows tonight; a “UCB All Star” Improv show at 8, and a Gethard Show proper at 10. The band shows up separately around quarter to 9. I’d be much more excited for this show, except I’m feeling worse now. I pass up exploring the neighborhood and locals in favor of pacing around the front bar until it’s time to change and start sound checking. It dawns on me to try to text message the few people I know in Austin about the show about an hour before, to no avail. Either way, the theater is completely full, and our drunkest, rowdiest crowd yet.
As could be expected, the first few minutes of the show are incredibly awkward, since half of the cast is mysteriously absent. Fortunately, Chris shines in moments like this, and is quick to point out that the trip hasn’t been without its share of problems, including today’s events, mentioning “I may have lost some friends today.” That turns out to be the cue for the missing cast to storm in and tell Chris he’s been had.
After the show, we slowly pack everything up, and regroup in the RV to talk about everything that’s happened. It’s awkward, and on top of which I’m so exhausted that I actually start to fall asleep standing up. But once we get through it, things are better – not perfect, but better – and we go to a bar for a little while, where I stand around admiring the bartenders, apparently already having moved on from the manicurist earlier on that day.
v
We find an apartment to stay at for the night. When I walk inside, I’m hoping to charge my phone, as it was still my only connection to the outside world, but realize I’ve lost it. I don’t even bother looking for it, and go to sleep on a small couch, wondering what the rest of this trip is going to bring.
Next up: The crew gets over everything, and a lot more comfortable with each other.
It’s 5:30 in the morning when Chris finally pulls into a Wal Mart lot, roughly an hour into Texas. We only stay for a few hours, starting back up by nine. I’m worn out, not having slept regularly or showered in days, but it doesn’t matter. I’m excited to be in Texas for the first time. Chris is in a different mood, tazing everyone else in the RV until we pull over and tackle him. It doesn’t deter him, as he keeps going, until we pull over again – this time throwing him out, on the highway, thirteen miles outside of Waco, and take off.
I’m sitting on the side bench inside thinking, “well, looks like we’re doing this.” However, I'm still pretty exhausted, so I can’t really comprehend it. However, it turns out that Chris’s bank card is still on board, so we make plans to stop at a hotel to clean up, and go to a spa. I can’t help but think that things are going to get awkward, but I take some joy in knowing at least I can shower for the first time in days.
First, the hotel. I’m so desperate to clean up that I actually go down to the lobby bathroom to wash my face and shave while other people use the shower. I felt infinitely better. From there we head over to a local spa, so we can all get assorted treatments on Chris’s dime. I go with a manicure from a lovely young lady who’s patient enough to deal with me, a guy who’s somehow cocky despite having lived like a hobo the past few days. I get my manicure, read Cosmo in the lobby area, and take a nap on the couch.
The minute we finish and walk out, we start getting texts that Chris is lost, and we slowly start panicking. We quickly brainstorm what to do, like searching the town’s Greyhound station, with no luck. Then we start making emergency phone calls, until we’re just sitting in this parking lot, completely unsure of what to do or how to find him, hopeless.
But as we think it over, things don’t add up, and we get suspicious. We talk it over for a few minutes and make a decision; Chris is pulling a fast one on us. We’re still a little shaken up, but determined to flip this around. Twenty minutes for a fast food dinner (first “real” meal of the day, really), and we take off, hoping for the best.
The drive from Waco to Austin is short, barely over an hour. Halfway through, after some more phone calls, our suspicions are confirmed: Chris is already in Austin. We quickly formulate a new, fool proof plan, and keep driving to Austin.
The day’s drive was painlessly short, only two hours from Richmond, Virginia to Carrboro, North Carolina, a suburb of Chapel Hill. As we left, it felt like springtime, and I happily ditched my jacket in the back storage of the RV.
North Carolina is beautiful and I was happy to be there, but I couldn’t help but be nervous about a few things. Some relatives had mentioned they might come out to the show, and I worried they’d be offended, or I’ll just look like an idiot with no real job. The theater was in the back of a strip mall in a beautiful neighborhood, which also meant I could buy supplies I’d forgotten, like toothpaste (up until now I’d used whatever I found wherever we stayed). But first, the band had a mission: busking for change around Chapel Hill, in an effort to raise money for generator repairs.
We got dropped off downtown, in costume, setting up in front of an empty storefront. After a few minutes we get restless, and started going mobile, at one point walking out into the middle of the street, and then on a public bus. We made a few bucks, and headed back to the theater so I could eat, run errands for myself, and call friends.
Half an hour before the show, my Aunt and Uncle showed up. I was much more nervous, but the show went well. All the bits went over great; Riley’s allowed to do his character, Vacation Jason for the first time, and he kills. Afterward, my Aunt and Uncle tell me they had a great time, and I’m glad I got to see them.
We hung out for a little bit with everyone before we have to leave. From there, we drove an hour to meet up with some kids who offer us a tour of “Acid Park,” which is a bit of local legend in North Carolina. As story goes, a high school girl and her boyfriend took acid, then crashed their car into her father’s property, who proceeded to go insane, and attempt to build large sculptures depicting what they would have seen.
The “park” was located on a fairly remote road in the middle of nowhere, and takes up a few large open fields, that are filled with large, crudely built windmills, and other odd sculptures. The truth is that in reality, this is probably more the work of an eccentric artist, but it’s the middle of the night, and pitch black out, so there’s an element of creepiness to it. We walked around for a while, looking at everything best we can, and headed back on our way.
At that point it was so late and we had nowhere to stay, so we found a Wal Mart to park at for the night, scraping up against a light post as we parked. I laid out some cushions on the floor, and went to sleep.
Next up: The crew discovers (and gets chased out of) Zorb.
