If you hadn't guessed already, the title of the blog is in reference to the fact that if you plan on really making a go of this whole comedy as a career thing, it's tough to stick around the District. Even our own comedy festival would have you believe that there is no local comedy scene. So eventually, your best bet is to fly the coop and try to make it work in a larger, comedy prepared city. Well our very own Jason Saenz leaves us today to give it the old college try and in honor of that, Mikael Johnson has written a farewell letter to DCC4N's MVP, Jason Saenz.
Wow, LA. Wow, driving out to LA, wow. But you're doing it, right now as I type this on an early Monday morning you ARE doing it! Probably right now, you're somewhere in Tennessee maybe, pushing on another 60 miles or so before you lay up in some rustic road side motel. An old southern gal, Ethel May, still working the front desk, watching reruns of the Golden Girls on NIC, when you show up in the parking lot. Yeah, she was still up just because she can't get enough of that Blanche, plus she had a feeling, "That some lonesome stranger was probably gonna mosey on up tonight, needing a place to rest that road weary head". In the morning she'll bring you biscuits, gravy, OJ and coffee with a little note that says,
Safe travels funny man.
Your dog, "Cum Dumpster".
But how could she know that joke? No worries, you run to the front desk to ask her how she knew your material, or even remembered it? Why would she remember it? How could something like that even resonate with someone? Do you think I should open with that? Why isn't Cum Dumpster quite hitting? But when you get there, she's gone. The girl behind the counter isn't even old enough to take the prom and when you ask her about Ethel May, she says, "Ethel who? No Ethel May ever work here…hey mister, will you sign this permission slip from Planned Parenthood?"
There's no time to look for the late night hotel desk clerk with a penchant for dick and dog jokes. However, peace will settle in like the tread on the tires settle onto the road; there are going to be experiences all along this journey. How could there not be--you're going to Califuck'nfornia!
This is just the beginning. From Tennessee, you could go south then west or just keep on towards the setting sun. Its been written about so many times, Going to California, by Zepplin, Stienbeck with the Grapes of Wrath, and Hughes with the Griswold's, and now Life brough to you by Mr. Saenz. There is so much ahead, take your time and soak it all in like the moment sponge you are.
Tell you where you can't get these experiences—going to New York.
Nope, no one ever talks, writes or even cares about when someone decides to pick up and go to New York. Michael J. Fox did once back in the 80's, a little film called "The Secret to My Success". You know what they call that film today in Hollywood? "Fox Turd". Whenever someone gets a script about going to New York or making it in New York, its always the same, "Uh, this looks like a Fox turd" or "That bin is for recyclables, that is reserved for Fox turds" or "Wasn't me, must be that Fox turd".
But you're not going to New York. You're going to California…nothing to worry about. California, where the weather is as pleasing as the women and the gangs are all bilingual.
Your jealous colleague and friend,
P.S. I will be out in LA next week, hope I could crash for a day or two. Hey, we'll have lunch!