CHRIS COEN

This cold snap inspired me to make another delicious batch of my secret recipe, Uncle Coen’s fire-ass chili.  The only one who knows the recipe is me, and my Golden Retriever, Stringbean, and he’s not talking.  Mostly because he’s a dog, and if he tells you the secret, you have schizophrenia and need serious help.  Take your pills, nutty.

I can’t cook.  I have been known to just cook some ground beef and dump cheese and condiments on it and eat until I feel ill.  However, this chili should put me on the Food Network.  If only I had a catch phrase and was charasmatic.  My buddy Camp ate it once then told me a week later it was delicious, but he couldn’t get out of the bathroom for four days.  Perfect!  My nose is running right now from sampling my masterpiece right now, actually.

My only regret was I started making it last night and after handling jalapenos, chili spices and hot sauce, I thought it was a good idea to take out my contacts since my eyes were watering.  As soon as I touched my right eye, the burning hot fire overcame my senses and I realized I forgot to wash my hands.  After five minutes doubled over, I realized I should call it Uncle Coen’s dumb ass chili (because I am stupid).  Back to store-brand mini ravoli and meat casseroles for me.

I have done more shows in bars than probably anywhere else.  Usually they go well…but sometimes bar owners think comedy works organically, despite the facts.  I did a show once and the manager refused to turn off the TV’s.  It was the opening round, day one of the NCAA tournament.  I did not, amazingly, have a good set.

Other times, the crowd just sucks ass.  My show last Friday was packed.  At first, I was somewhat excited, then realized once the emcee fired up the show the music was still going and some long-hair in the back was trying to impress a chick by heckling.  It wasn’t even good heckling, which I have actually seen once or twice.  Rather, it was “BE FUNNY!”  He said this after the host said, “How’s everyone doing tonight?”  Yes, good one douche.  ENTERTAIN ME INSTANTLY!  I HAVE ADD AND WASN’T BREAST FED!  I NEED ATTENTION!  I debated getting in his face, but he left almost as soon as the show got going.  Probably good for all involved.

Later in the show, I watched a gentleman argue with the bartender over the size of his shot/drink.  This turned into 30 seconds of arguing…during a comic’s set, which caused a drunk chick to yell back at the cheap asshole, “Manners!”  He then threatened her, causing quite a ruckus.  Ah, nothing says joke time like a woman getting potentially punched by a drunk guy.  Maybe I can perform a show in the Octagon next time there’s a UFC pay-per-view.

My grandpa took me to a bar once when I was around 15.  Times were different then, not because it was eons ago, but because I’m from southeastern Ohio, and that happens.  He told me stories about the bar he owned downtown.  My favorite was how he oversalted the free popcorn to sell more beer.  Genius.

I did my interview for the upcoming article in Columbus Alive! at a bar I hadn’t been to in a while.  It’s changed a little now, but it used to be a total old timer hangout.  Opened at 7 am, closed at 7pm on a late night, but usually more like 3 pm.  Of course, they didn’t take credit cards, but they would run a tab for you with no questions.  Sounds like you could rip them off, right?  No, there was a bookie that hung out there and unless you wanted to rumble with knife-carrying Italians, you paid your tab.  The menu had two choices – a burger with yellow cheese…or pepperjack cheese.  The best aspect was if someone was playing music, it wasn’t newer than 1975, which means there’s a better chance of avoiding pop and dance music, but usually it was silent, other than the tales of bullshit being spun.  Oh, and the same twelve jokes over and over between the gambling, drinking, and the bitching about women.  For a generation that supposedly was sexist, I noticed everyone pretty much was terrified of their wives.  Probably because they were too old to smack ’em around, am I right?  (Bad joke high five, anyone?)

If you think this sounds like a lame place to hang out, do me a favor (if you’re over 25).  Go downtown to a nightclub.  Walk in and realize your clothes are way outdated.  Order a seven dollar beer…if you can ever get served…try competing for a drink when a 22 year old with breast implants and a skirt so tight it looks like body paint walks up next to you.  Oh and try hitting on her, watch your old ass get shut down because she knows you don’t make six figures.  Realize you can’t hear anyone talk over the horrible techno beats and it smells like an old wrestling mat, thanks to the sweaty pill poppers twirling with glow sticks.  Get bumped into 90 times and sadly make eye contact with the balding 38 year old douchebag wearing a shiny button up.  It’s like staring into the future, and the future is sad.  See you at the old man bar.

I am going to be featured in Columbus Alive!, a local publication as one of five featured comics.  It’s nice to be noticed and I am a whore for attention, so of course I agreed.  We just did the photo shoot and it was terrifying.  I am not a fan of posing for pictures – I can’t smile.  I know this is weird, since I do comedy, but I cannot smile without looking like someone is pointing a rifle at me and saying, “Smile or die!”  I more grimace, if I had to put words to it.

This harkens back to elementary school, when Mom would tell me not to get dirty or have a milk chugging contest for picture day.  I did anyways, but I was eight, what do you want from me?  The photographer had a great idea – just laugh!  I can do that more easily than fake smile, so I told horrible stories of drunks and degeneracy from my dark mind and the “smiles” flowed like a river.  I was in full BS mode when I realized she snapped one where I was holding out my fingers like I was describing penis length.  “Please don’t use that one.”  She agreed, so we’ll see…

My OCD took over and I picked at a little piece of loose skin, which made my pinky bleed.  Hopefully that gets photo shopped out, since I was wearing my usual fine dark grey plain t-shirt.  Plain tee, check.  Glazed over eyes with dark circles and bags, check.  Fresh blood, check.  Ladies and gentlemen, Chris Coen, Columbus’s finest homeless comedian!

Well, today is the day after tax day.  I like to keep everyone level, so here’s some facts for you –

– Currently the GSA (a gov’t group that no one has heard heard of) is under congressional investigation for wasting over $800K on parties.

– Our VP charged the Secret Service rent for the land they were at for protecting him.

– Several cabinet appointees, i.e. Leon Panetta and crew, are under fire for wasting gov’t taxpayer cash for flying home first class on our dime.

– Bush added almost five billion to our debt in eight years, but don’t worry, Obama passed that paltry amount in less than four.  Also, our fine congresspersons haven’t passed a budget in years!

– Social Security and Medicare/Medicaid will be bankrupt by the early 2020’s.  If you invest in a private business and they spend all your cash – you can sue.  The gov’t?  Ha ha, oopsie!

Now look at what you paid – don’t you love massive federal government?  Remember, if you like what your party does – the other side will take over soon.  Not so fun now, is it?  See you at the shooting range!  Oh and bring your copy of Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations.  If you like Washington, I will gladly take the book and shove it up your ass.  My property taxes have increased threefold since 2006.  I own a condo and my “property” is my neighbor’s roof.  Oh, and my mortgage is “underwater”, which means the value is less than what I paid.  Thanks, Washington.  Remind me why I vote for incumbents?  Oh, I usually don’t.  If you don’t mind rage and an open shady history (as opposed to lying about it), I am eligible for President in 2016.  I promise not to make any friends with fellow politicians and I guarantee I will treat John Boehner and Nancy Pelosi equally and fairly, like the pieces of dog shit they are.

“I agree to this Constitution with all its faults, if they are such: because I think a General Government necessary for us, and there is no Form of Government but what may be a Blessing to the People if well-administred; and I believe farther that this is likely to be well administred for a Course of Years and can only end in Despotism as other Forms have done before it, when the People shall become so corrupted as to need Despotic Government, being incapable of any other.”  ?    Benjamin Franklin  Look forward to 2013 – the more things change…

Last night I did a show benefitting the Connor Senn Memorial Scholarship Fund.  Great cause, Connor was an OSU soccer player that had a rare heart condition and passed away on the field.  Credit to all involved, they raise money to avoid this and help OSU soccer.  Very similar to my buddy Quincy Conner, who passed from a heart condition years back – thanks to Rob for starting that up also.

The show went very well, with me, Travis Hoewischer, Bill Arrundale, and Josh Sneed headlining.  Sneed actually gave me a great “callback” regarding my Justin Bieber joke that I will definitely use.  (If you want to know what, come to my goddurn shows….)  Everything was gravy…until the end.

Post show, I wandered out to have a smoke and I ran into “I’m thinking about doing comedy, but I’ve never been onstage” guy.  There is no worse curse than this.  He ran his “bits” by me as I chugged my full beer, hoping a tornado or terrorist attack broke out.  “I’ve written 30 minutes!”  Me: How about you focus on five?  “Let me tell you this part, it’s about Maury Povich!”  Me:  Oh, that sounds great!  (Fuck!!!  Fuck!!!)  “Blah blah blah, blabbity bloo”  Me: Oh man, I have Crohn’s disease!  I am going to shit my pants!  See ya!  Thank my blessed Father, I escaped the cycle of bad routines never done onstage.  Small victories, small victories.