CHRIS COEN

At the Browns/Steelers game Sunday, I quickly realized why I generally avoid human contact.  Upon sitting down, a drunk old guy behind was constantly screaming for everyone to sit down, because he paid $50 for his ticket.  This went on for 15 minutes until guards finally told everyone to sit down.  Six minutes later, everyone was standing again.  Luckily, the drunk had taken talking about how he was suspended from his job for parking in the wrong spot and was taking them to court.  Thankfully, that story ended, but the “sit down” chants started up again.

I was ready to strangle him (I was sitting down, by the way), but a new target of hate popped up.  A woman in front of me starting arguing with him how she paid $1100 for a ticket and she could do whatever she wanted.  I know she was full of shit because…1) We were at the Cleveland game.  The sidelines aren’t worth $1100.  2) She showed up at the end of the first quarter and left in the third.  If you pay $1100 for a ticket, you show up when the punter is warming up and leave when they chisel your frozen ass off the seat.  3) For $1100, you can fly anywhere in the world and back.  And probably afford to pay someone for sex, even if they’re not a prostitute.  That’s a lot of money.

I then found it fascinating that there are fans who heckle the opposing team and their fans, but in Cleveland, you get an equally strong contingent of people hecking their own team.  Between “Hey, hey, hey, Ben is gay!” and “I crap black and yellow every morning! (I don’t get that one)”, I also heard drunks yelling for the Browns to go for it on 4th and 10 from their own 46 with five minutes left in the game.  This is why fans don’t coach.

My aunt got tickets for my Dad and I to the final game of the NFL regular season, the “storied” rivalry of Cleveland and Pittsburgh.  I have to give Browns fans credit.  You are the greatest fans of any team in the history of sports.  Your team uprooted and left in the 90’s and has made the playoffs once since.  Yet going to the game, you would think it was 1964 all over again.  They get screwed repeatedly yet stick with their team.  Browns fans are like rape victims that apologize to their attackers for not being more into it.  That said, I was raised a Steelers fan, so piss on your team.

I know my place though, I was very subdued knowing I was in enemy territory, plus the ridiculous Cleveland weather didn’t exactly encourage boisterous enthusiasm.  By the fourth quarter, I was ready to pee my pants for warmth.  Turns out, the outcome didn’t matter once the evil Ravens beat the Bengals, but it was still a good time.  More on the fans tomorrow…

Instead of Auld Lang Syne, I’m listening to Hank Jr. and Black Label Society, but this would be a great time to recap my website for my 15-25 fans/people that read my dumb blogs while they shit at work on the clock.  My fantastic web guy (and soon to be father) who has to deal with all my “how does this work?” bullshit encouraged me to blog more often in 2011.  So I did and it sucked.  Five blogs a week when you do comedy and work 45 hours a week BLOWS.  It was all justified by you animals who read my drivel, so I thought I would share with you.

I was getting about 100 views a month on a great month, but in February I decided to put some effort in.  This year (not counting what happens until the ball drops) I have received 19,463 page views with 2/3’s return visits.  That’s on you guys.  Thanks – because if no one was reading this crap, I would be a crazy homeless guy ranting on a street corner.

What was the most popular blog?  According to Google analytics – it was… “/”.  Second place was my rant on the Zanesville animal escape.  Sadly, number four most viewed was my merchandise link.  I sold one shirt and one DVD this year online.  To the same person.  Son of a bitch…oh well.  In all seriousness, I am a drunken megalomaniac and love doing comedy.  Every year new milestones are reached and I make a little more cash doing it.  This is one more notch on the belt and I thank everyone for reading my rants, commenting on FB, sharing my site with friends, and coming to my shows.  I’ve been too nice…this sucks…go fuck yourselves!  OK, that’s better.  Now David Allan Coe is on my iTunes.  If he and Iron Maiden would do a show in Columbus, my life would be complete.  With my luck, I would get a DUI on the way home.  Now we’re back to normal!

If you need five hour energy everyday, you probably have anemia.

When I grow a beard, I am so sick of getting to full beardedness, I usually shave the damn thing off within two days.

Nothing will wake you up in the morning like the adrenaline rush from standing in freezing weather and waiting on a dog to shit.

Why does Hollywood insist that every blonde with at least a B cup must be shot as Marilyn Monroe?

Steve Martin has aged well – I think going gray at 25 lowered the bar.

Either my neighbor has a trampoline or he is doing an hourly tribute to Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka by body splashing his girlfriend.

I just watched Mission: Impossible 4.  Totally unrealistic, but I can handle it, because it’s supposed to be over the top.  Scaling a building?  No problem.  Jumping onto moving cars?  OK.  It’s the realistic parts that bug me.  There was a 60 year old scientist battling an agent from the team in a fight to the death.  It drove me nuts.  I can handle aliens, vampires, fill in the blank, yet the thought of man close to retirement beating ass is too much.  Much like the hot chick that beats up five Russian mafia guys or special forces soldiers.  I have no doubt a woman can toss a punch after some training, but the thought of Jessica Alba/Drew Barrymore taking a full on overhand right to the grill and shrugging it off is just silly.  Unless she’s a superhero.  No problems there whatsoever.

Everyone does these dumb lists, so here’s mine for shows this past year…top three of each, no particular order.

Best – Shelby, OH.  This is a surprise, because it was at a senior center in a town of 2000 people.  They had never done comedy before and it was a Valentine’s Day show and nothing says romance like the comedic stylings of Chris Coen.  I sold over $200 worth of merchandise, which smashes my previous record of $65.  Seniors love Chris Coen (there were no seniors, they were all asleep hours before the 9 pm show).

Also, my feature showcase for the Funny Bone, which I passed.  This means I have my foot in the door for traveling the US as a feature act.  Unless of course I blow it, then back to square one.  Also, my feature week at Go Bananas in Cincy.  First week as a full feature and I was introduced to the breakfast shot, which tasted like maple syrup and orange juice, which surprisingly, didn’t make me puke.

Worst – I did a show at bar, ironically near Shelby, where I headlined.  There were 12 people at the show when the feature act went up.  By the time I went, five.  Of those, one guy was actually carrying on a conversation during my act…at the front table…on his cell phone.  I watched a really drunk couple basically have sex with their clothes on in the back.  Plus, while onstage, I had a bore actually answer all my rhetorical questions and try to carry on a conversation.  Example:  “I got a new car recently.”  Her – What car did you get?  “It’s not important.”  I want to know.  “A Chevy, it has nothing to do with the joke.  I’m moving on.”  I had a black Chevy once.  “That’s enough.  Forget about the car.”

Honorable mention: I did a show where the audience got in free.  Despite this, some animals decided to heckle the other comics.  One guy commented that it was the worst thing he’d ever seen.  Really?  Worst?  Fuck you, gel hair.  It’s free and no one is paying attention.  We’re not happy to be here either, but we need the money.  I hope that guy gets a bladder infection.

Finally, worst show?  The cancelled ones.  I got booked at a two-day comedy run.  The first one paid OK and was farther away, but night two was on the way back to Ohio and paid more $.  About two weeks prior, the venue decided to close down comedy.  It was the first ever gig I booked with this agency, so I stuck it out.  I had to take 1.5 of my 10 total days off for the year to do the show.  I sold one shirt, which meant after gas, I made $37 profit for driving nine hours.

Here’s to 2012, where hopefully more of the former and less of the latter is the norm.