CHRIS COEN

After my last show of the week on Sunday, in which I felt I did not have my best showing, we had the awkward t-shirt/DVD sale afterwards.  Apparently, residents of this city have a lot of t-shirts, because no one hardly sold anything all f’n week.  A really tall guy with a unique accent approached me.  “You were so great!  I laughed a lot!”  Thanks, man!  He then got his picture taken with me.  The lady he was with said “He’s a foreign exchange student from Austria.  He had a lot of fun.”  Nice – I have global appeal!

Then he came back…  “I really liked how you told your jokes and didn’t change your face.  You just talked about your life and were so funny not making any expressions!  The people I was with didn’t like you as much, but I did!”  Hmm, that’s a backhanded compliment, but he was honest.  Then he bought a DVD and shirt.  “I think the other guy’s shirt more, but I want to support you!”  Once again his honesty poured out.  You know what, I appreciate it.  One, the honesty was refreshing.  Two, he could call me a slack-jawed pedo as long he buys my crap.  Thank you, my new friend – I love Austria!

After a nice three day run, one in which I was sure the emcee and headliner would fistfight (they didn’t, sadly), I had two days off until the final show Sunday.  I flirted with the idea of seeing some historical sites, but the only thing near me was a church someone met in once about civil rights (I’m not being callous, that’s pretty much what the Alabama historical landmark website said) and a place where the Creeks fought some white settlers 200 years ago.  Looks like I’m shutting myself in the hotel/cell like a castaway.

I caught a movie one day, then went out to watch the Ohio State game at a bar.  Nothing like watching your favorite team on mute on a small TV partially obstructed by a pole while the waitress asks you every 14 seconds if you’re good.  Seriously, there are stripclubs where you get bothered less.  I went to take a leak and one of the staff cleaned my table in the 73 seconds I was gone, including my half full beer.  That was the breaking point – back to the cave!

By Sunday, I felt like the housekeepers were going to enter my room crucifix extended tossing holy water on me.  I went for a 20 minute jog and they cleaned my room top to bottom, like they were waiting on me to leave.  As if there was a stench or fog emanating from under the door.  Then again, I’ve been here since Tuesday.  They may just toss a match on the floor when I leave.

I would like to say first, and without reservation, Daniel Day-Lewis is the greatest actor ever.  If you disagree with me, you are a racist against Irish people.  And you hate puppies.  I even watchedThere Will Be Blood due to him.  It was so long, I went through menopause during it, but it was worth it.  He rules.

The movie focused on the efforts to pass the 13th amendment abolishing slavery.  It was interesting to see the out and out racism in Congress.  They were even worried abolishing slavery would lead to radical things like women voting.  Oh, you silly 1865 Congress.  At least you didn’t outlaw alcohol – I’m looking at you, 1919, you no good sons of bitches!!!

The movie was absolutely fantastic, but I was a little worried, since I watched it Birmingham, Alabama.  I thought they would throw snuff and Natty Light cans at the screen, but no such hijinx.  I would’ve enjoyed the movie more, but a group came in and asked if I could move down.  Damnit, now I have someone in my personal space!  I hate people!  Then he asked me to bump down again…I muttered an expletive and now I was next to an old couple also.  TWO PEOPLE NEXT TO ME!  RAGE!  The girl that I had to move for said “Thanks, Captain America!”  Hmmm…you shall live…not sure about your pals, though.

The Lincoln likeability was so strong, it was crazy.  Less likeable was the old guy next to me explaining everything.  “That’s General Grant!”  Yes, I got it from the fact he had a general’s suit, a beard, was smoking a cigar AND THE FACT THE SCREEN SAID U.S. GRANT.  At one point, his wife fell asleep and started snoring.  That’s not distracting at all.  Oh well.  In recap, it is a great movie and the acting is top notch.  Plus it’s Lincoln played by Daniel Day-Lewis.  If you don’t see this movie, you probably hate freedom and America and liberty.

I got down here in Birmingham on Tuesday and got a call from the emcee.  “Hello, governor!  How are you?”  Sigh…OK, who in the hell is this?  This went on for about ten minutes and I found out he needed a ride.  Terrific.  I picked him up and we made it to the show.  I didn’t realize the venue was a theater, not a standard club.  Not a big deal, but I went onstage and this really angry dude was seated right in the front at my feet.  Upon closer examination, it was a chick, so that threw me off.  BTW, she hated my guts.

I felt like I had a subpar show the first night, probably due to fact I drove nine hours and was exhausted.  Plus, I was told no one takes a beer onstage at this place.  What?  I felt naked.  One of my jokes about pulling up next to a drunk driver involves me holding up a beer and saying “Same team, brother!”  Not quite the same with a Dasani.  Goddurn commies.

The good news is that my place has a TV with an HDMI cable port, so I have full access to my PS3.  I just bought Assassin’s Creed 3, which I found has you killing the British to help my roll dog, George Washington.  Other than a game helping Lincoln beat Hitler in the Civil War, I can’t think of anything more perfect.  Take that, lobsterbacks!  Get your hands off my Constitution, you tea drinkin’ sumbitches!  USA!  USA!  USA!

I am working this week in Birmingham, Alabama.  This is the 17th state I have performed in, which is cool.  It was a nine hour drive to get here, which is not cool.  You really have to mentally prepare yourself to drive that far.  I have satellite radio, which definitely helps, but the hair metal station can only take one so far.  Once I hear the third Britny Fox or White Lion song, I have to mix it up.

Luckily, I deprive myself of fluids to not have to pee and load up on history podcasts.  I found out that Henry Ford was a real innovator…and a Jew hating piece of shit.  That took up about 45 minutes of my drive.  At about the seven hour mark, I could be listening to a podcast about how sweet Chris Coen is and I still would murder to be done with the damn drive.  Now you know why truckers will talk your ear off after hauling a load from Idaho.  Being in a vehicle that long drives you crazy.  I must admit, the trucker bombs are tempting also (that’s a drinking receptacle filled with pee – milk jug, Mt. Dew bottle, etc.)

Despite Cincinnati and Nashville trying to ruin my trip with traffic jams, I drove about 581 miles in eight hours and 56 minutes.  Oh, and after all that, I had to do 20 minutes featuring in a theater.  There’s not enough Red Bull/cocaine in this state to get me up for that, but I did it.  My reward for this harrowing marathon of suck was that the hotel housekeepers decided to bother me three times before 10 am.  Unless you have free beer, enter my room under pain of death.

There is nothing worse as a comic than waiting to be paid…I take that back, nothing worse if you bombed, but that’s for another blog.  I did a show last weekend, sold out crowd, peddled a few shirts, all is well.  I have had five beers, have to drive six hours tomorrow…thanks for the show, now give me my damn money.  With all due respect, of course.

As bad as that was, the headliner last week had to leave at 3:30 AM, so I had no room to complain.  I will anyway, because I am an asshole, though.  Post show we finally got done and had that terrifying inane back and forth with the last two drunk people.  A guy came up to me and said, “You were OK, but that motherfucker was funny!”  Great, now I hate you and have to listen to why I wasn’t as good as the headliner.  (Side note – he bought nothing off either of us.)  I went upstairs and the club had locked the checks in the manager’s office.  Oh, joy!  We finally got paid and my neighbors were rocking out to some Skynrd, so I had a great night’s sleep aka I should’ve slept on broken glass.  Remind me to bring my Glock to the next show…