This is a Public Service Announcement

December 4, 2009

It may seem like a good idea when you start. It sounds like an 8 year-old’s dream. It sounds like a diabetic’s nightmare. But I’m here today to dispel any positive thoughts you may have about the concept. Heed my word any hopefully you will not suffer a similar fate. 

Do not – I REPEAT, DO NOT – eat cheesecake for breakfast. One day, when it’s a few days after Christmas and no one at home has gone food shopping yet and you have the choice between cheesecake and those 4 saltines, you will remember my sage advice and pick the saltines. 

Seriously eat the fucking saltines



In all honesty, I can not recall a more horrible stomach ache.  I even balanced it out with a second-breakfast of a sugar-free redbull and I’m still in agony. I really hope this doesn’t ruin my lunch of onion pizza or my dinner of some other form of pizza. This would indeed be a travesty. 

I gave some thought to a special weekly feature, and I believe I have a damn good one. Every week, probably on a Friday, I will choose that week’s “OMG Like, Best Thing Ever!” and explain why it’s the OMG Like, Best Thing Ever. That will be today’s second post in order to make up for yesterday’s non-existant one. 

Stay healthy,

Almost a Year Later

December 2, 2009

I’ve decided that I’m ever going to improve my writing on other projects (Sketches, Dear Mr. So and So, etc.) it’s time that I start writing on a consistent basis. Even now I’m putting off writing “Dear Mr. So and So” due to a recent difficulty in being creative. Maybe I’m pouring all of my creative juices into writing a play with Michael Goldense and Adam Mancuso. Maybe not enough interesting things are going on in my life. Whatever the reason, my creative gland has certainly been drier than usual lately. As a result, I’m officially returning to “We’re All Very Ashamed of You” and again making it an almost-daily blog.

Having looked back at my earlier posts, I’ve noticed it became far less of a comedy blog than I originally intended for it to be. I’ll be making a conscious effort to sprinkle in a few more “Har’s” and “Yuk’s” throughout my post, as my desired career path is comedy-related. Care for me to elaborate on that? TOO BAD! I can’t yet. I want to be funny, certainly. I’m just not yet aware of the specific mediums in which I will (hopefully) be funny.

Some posts may be a bit more mundane than others, you can’t have funny and interesting topics all the time. I’ll do my best to keep anyone who reads this – should anyone choose to after I stopped posting last January-ish – as entertained as possible. I make no promises.

I’ll brainstorm some ways to spice the blog up a little bit. If you have any suggestions, feel free to drop me a line in the comment box below.

Thanks for staying (at least a little) interested.

Stay reminiscent,

Flight of the Conchords Lip Dub Contest

January 22, 2009


Just a quick update while I’m busy with other projects, including my other blog, “Dear Mr. So and So.”

My friends and I have entered a contest called the Flight of the Conchords Lip Dub in which you make a music video of you lip-syncing their song “HipHopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros.” The winners get a chance to be posted all over the internet or something, so if you don’t mind, click here and watch and rate are awesome video.

Thanks for your support.

Stay funky-fresh,

Is anybody there?

January 15, 2009

Yes, I realize it’s been a very long time since I’ve written. I’ve gotten myself caught up in a couple of new deal, such as going back to school to get my poli-sci degree.

Another thing that I’m here to tell you about today is a new writing project I’ll be working on with one Mr. Michael Goldense of a small “x” and Escalade Incompetency fame. What we’ve decided to do is tell a fun-comedic story through writing letters to each other as characters in said story. It’s called “Dear Mr. So and So.” We’ll have a very basic skeleton of an idea worked out and we’ll let the story drift where it may. You know what? The “About” section of the blog explains it much better than I can, so here it is:

We’ll be updating every Tuesday and Thursday, so make sure to check up on it. I hope you all enjoy it. It was nice talking to you.

Stay fresh,


Shamless Self-Promotion

November 12, 2008

I realize it’s been quite a while, so I figure I should update y’all with something fun. Well, maybe slightly entertaining.

First off, my band is (note:read) TRYING to record an LP by November 28th in order to release it at a show we’re playing at Stinger’s Pub in Seaford. We’re doing it with a fuck load of microphones, a PA, and plugging into Windows Recorder. Yeah, ghetto. It’s been really hard figuring out levels because we have to play, stop, then listen to it through the laptop speakers. Needless to say it’s taken much longer than expected.  We finished one song last night called “August Road,” it came out pretty well. The vocals may be a bit too high in the mix, but WHO GIVES A SHIT THE ALBUM IS FUCKING FREE!? So if you’re interested in what we sound like, listen to the song here: The Red Season’s Myspace. Let me know what you think.

In other news, I performed in a sketch comedy show a couple weeks ago, in was a shit load of fun, except during my monologue a couple of ignorant hecklers criticized my monologue about Jay Leno and Socialism. Luckily, these jerks were caught on tape and I swiftly identified them and exacted my revenge. See these douchebags ruin my skit here. 

I’ll update sometime this week, probably. I don’t have much to do.

Stay updated,


Tens of Thousands of Dollars and I get what?

October 21, 2008

Short post today, folks, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.

I happened upon this site while checking before I started work. It’s an article written by a career-consultant Marty Nemko and it gives a clear and concise argument against kids automatically assuming they need to go to college. I’ve been feeling this way for a while, but as usual can’t get the words out as well as most people. 

Here it is: “America’s Most Overrated Product: The Bachelor’s Degree”

I especially like the part at the end when he lists a number of successful people who didn’t get a Bachelor’s Degree: Maya Angelou, David Ben-Gurion, Richard Branson, Coco Chanel, Walter Cronkite, Michael Dell, Walt Disney, Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, Bill Gates, Alex Haley, Ernest Hemingway, Wolfgang Puck, John D. Rockefeller Sr., Ted Turner, Frank Lloyd Wright, and nine U.S. presidents, from Washington to Truman.

Just some food for thought.

Stay sharp,


What’s wrong with Long Island’s Music scene and how I think it should be fixed

October 9, 2008

I apologize ahead of time for not having any of the actual messages used in these conversations. I’m at work and thus have no access to either my facebook or myspace accounts.

I recently replied to a post on Myspace by a certain booking agency about playing a show this Sunday at the Dave and Buster’s in Farmingdale with my band, The Red Season. Approximately a day after, the woman replied to me saying she’d like to have us play, as long as we sold 30 tickets at 12 dollars a piece by Sunday. I messaged her back explaining to her that she and how she runs these shows are why the Long Island music scene is in such bad shape these days. Everyone, from the venue to the promoters to bands are far too focused on the bottom line and making some cash and they forget the basic fact that 99.9% of these bands aren’t, in the long run, going to be at all profitable. They forget that most of these bands are making music in order to have fun with their friends, and using them (generally naive kids between the ages of 15 and 20) to make yourself a quick buck is pretty despicable.

Now, I’ve been through this type of situation before. My old ska band, Grandma’s Little Boys, had the opportunity to play a show at The Crazy Donkey in Farmingdale, the shithole that replaced The Downtown as the place that Long Island bands got respect for playing at. Rumor has it The Downtown was shutdown because the owner went on a coke binge and misspent all his business’ money into, um, coke. We were required to sell30 tickets at 10 dollars a piece in order to play, or we had to pay the money for the extra tickets. It came with some bullshit incentive that if you sold all 30 tickets you’d get (OMFG!) 50 DOLLARS or something like that. We sold a decent amount but not all of them, then the snow came. The show was cancelled. It was rescheduled to a date that Kiki my cousin and bassist couldn’t play, I had strep throat and no one we sold tickets to besides Andy, Bryan and I think Pita could come. Of course, I had to give the promoter all the money we made from selling CD’s and that was essentially the end of the band.

Granted, this wasn’t entirely the promoters fault, but if there were no mandatory ticket pre-sales my band wouldn’t have been put back into the financial hole we were working so hard to get out of after paying for recording and CD’s and the usual stuff bands pay a lot of money for.

I, along with my band-mates, have a couple of problems with the way that shows are generally run these days. For one, 10 dollars is far too much. The general person attending the show (again, probably around 15 to 20 years old) may be a bit iffy about paying 10 bucks to see their friend’s shitty band and a couple other bands they’ve never heard of and probably won’t like. They’re more likely to just spend it on half-price appetizers at Applebee’s or something. And on the other side, when these bands don’t sell the tickets, where are they going to come up with the $150 or so to give the promoter? Teenagers rarely have that kind of money just lying around. 

If more shows cost $5 or EVEN LESS more kids would be inclined to go to these shows as a place to hang out and have a decent time on a Friday or Saturday night. And guess what, if more kids are showing up, there’s STILL a decent amount of money being paid at the door, so everyone is happy. Maybe you won’t make as much, but stop being so fucking greedy, shit. Hell, if someone with a sizable basement and pretty cool parents can get a hold of a PA, then they can have a basement show and money won’t even have to get involved in the situation unless bands want to sell an EP or stickers or something.

What’s the point of booking these huge venues that overcharge for everything, anyway? Kids are FINE with cramming into a basement or small Knights of Columbus, they’re not afraid of brushing up against others like stupid adults. It just creates a gap between the bands from the fans, which is ridiculous considering the only difference between the bands and the fans is that the bands can strum a couple chords.

Of course, people generally don’t get famous for playing shows in a basement, but at least it’ll help develop an actual SCENE, a real grass-roots community of bands and fans that continues to grow and grow. From there, bands can make some money off of CD and t-shirt sales and go on tour, where they can play cheap shows in surrounding areas and create scenes there, as well.

From my experience, kids are going to less and less shows, and from my estimation its because they’re less connected to bands and other fans. Paying so much money to see a local band creates this aura of superiority around these bands that doesn’t actually exist. If bands and promoters just swallowed their fucking ego instead of acting like God’s gift to shitty Indie-pop they’d get a hell of a lot more done.

Sure, I can preach it till I’m blue in the face. At least I’m trying to better the situation. The Halloween show is a step in the right direction. From there I’ve got plenty of big plans.

All I know is that capitalizing on punk is ENTIRELY against everything punk stands for. It’s also pretty fucked up to capitalize on kids who just want to be creative.

Stay punk,


P.S. I’m exhausted and in a bit of a daze, I’ll fix any typos after I get some sleep.


September 25, 2008

I’ve finally gotten the ball rolling on the Halloween show my band has decided to put on. The plan is to get a number of local bands (and maybe a traveling act) to come dressed up as another band and play a set as that band. I’m pretty much stole the idea from the late “The Downtown’s” Skaloween show that they had before the owner went on a coke binge and ran the venue into the ground. I always felt upset that I never got the chance to play a show, so why not make one myself?

So far I’ve asked the Hungarian Hall in Ronkonkoma and plan on asking O’Reilly’s and a number of VFW Halls to hold the show, but I’m a bit worried since when I was in High School lots of hardcore bands turned a lot of bar/hall owners off to the idea of having kids play at their place. I wouldn’t mind holding the show in my basement, but some bands may and my parents would be iffy on it, to say the least.

I e-mailed the folk-punk act Ghost Mice about playing and am crossing my fingers that I get a reply soon. It’s not like they’ll get much of draw (folk-punk hasn’t exactly hit it big in the musical wasteland of Long Island) but I LOVE them so it would be extremely sick to play with them and have them stay at my place (or Bob’s if he’s cool with it). They’re in Europe right now, apparently, and I don’t know too much about their access to e-mail, so I’m just going to cross my fingers and hope they come across the e-mail soon.

It’s going to be a charity show but we’ve yet to decide on which charity to give to. We (my band) have narrowed it down to a couple that strike home with us; I’ll let you know when we make our decision. BY THE WAY, I’m pretty sure I’ve never said anything about my band The Red Season, so check us out. The recordings are poor and a bit outdated, but we’re working on getting some more stuff up soon.

So far booking shows has been pretty sick and semi-easy. Thankfully, I’m anticipating having the weight of the world dropped on my shoulders sometime, probably about a week, before the show. It’s cool, I’ve got my friends to help out and the bands we’re asking are awesome dudes.

Are you interested in participating? Helping out? Attending? Let me know! I can use all the hands I can get.

Stay spooooooooooky,


Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop

September 17, 2008

No excuses. I’ve been extremely lame recently. Have you ever gotten into one of those ruts and you don’t want to do anything productive ever? Yeah, that’s been me for over a month.

However, recently I’ve been getting the urge to actually do stuff for myself. I feel like I’m putting myself on the right track.

I have here for you this e-mail I wrote to a friend earlier this evening. We’ve been discussing this sort of dilemma that it seems a lot of people have, which is being afraid of falling into the cycle of your “average, everyday, middle American.” It seems like this is all I’ve been discussing with everybody these days. I suppose it’s a good thing that the people I know are realizing this so early so possibly they can prevent themselves from falling into the trap.

I cut out the beginning and the end because they’re not about the subject I introduced and I didn’t necessarily get the OK from my friend to go ahead and post this e-mail. I also cut out 2 names I used because it would more or less give it away to some people.


I’m actually having a bit of the same “nervous about getting myself going” problem you’re having. I spoke with my buddy Ishraq about this (he’s been a bit of therapist for me these past couple years) and he agrees that it’s difficult to get yourself going to do something because you’re nervous and/or scared of the unknown. Most people need pushing by the ones they love.

I can’t assume you haven’t expressed how completely bad ass the Peace Corp would be to ::name bajeeted::, ::name baleeted:: or any of your other loved ones, but you really should if you haven’t. I know for damn sure that either of them would love to constantly push and support you to reach your dream. That’s what my best friends do for me; that’s what they’re there for.

It seems a lot of people are going through the same thing you are. I had ANOTHER convo about this tonight with my cousin Kiki. I’m beginning to think everyone eventually comes to an impasse in their life where they realize they can shoot for their dreams or settle for a life of monotony. The strongest ones, the ones that want the most out of life, the ones that are brave, continue the struggle. I could quote a Robert Frost poem, but I fucking hate his poetry and feel it’d be cliche to use it, so fuck that guy.

I stirred some crazy shit last week when I asked my Mom if, on her death bed, she’ll think back and say to herself, “thank goodness I obsessively kept my house clean and owned all those Coach bags.” Your life isn’t going to be defined by your career, how much money you made, or how many pretty things you owned. It’ll be defined by all the awesome shit you did and the beautiful relationships you made along the way.

One last thing, if you need inspiration, go to and on the home page listen to Paul Baribeau’s song “Ten Things.” Whenever I hear this song (seriously) I get all jittery and want to go do everything ever, all at once.

You don’t know who it is, right? Good.

I love my Mom like crazy and regret saying that to her, it just saddens me a bit when I see where her priorities lie.

Obviously I’m not going to start the Monday through Friday thing again, there just ended up not being enough time in the day. I will, however, dedicate myself to writing a blog atleast once a week.

It was nice to see you again!

Stay hopeful,


Don Quixote 2020 AD X: The Final Showdown

August 7, 2008

I’m posting this now so I don’t have an excuse to not write a real post anymore.  Here it is, the final installment of:

Don Quixote 2020 AD X

Chapter Five: Storming the Castle


            El Cid and Sancho Ponds step out of the vehicle, and walk up to the large black cast iron gates. They turned towards each other, giving a nod of agreement on what must be done. El Cid’s flowing black cape billowed in the wind. He titled down his black fedora, and tightened his black leather gloves. The butts of his two swords protruded over his shoulders, two pistols were tucked securely into the holsters around his hips. Sancho was armed much like he was before, his sword fastened to his back, his machine gun inserted into his belt. El Cid handed him a small knife dagger, and told him that it was a lucky dagger of his, so Sancho put it in a secret sheath hidden up his sleeve. They broke through the gates and stormed up the steps that led to the massive oaken doors that fronted the mansion.

            As the doors flew open, and the two men stepped inside, they were greeted by a virtual army of people. Two spiraling staircases weaved their way upwards to balcony. Standing at the edge was none other than the Black Knight. He was clad entirely in dark ebony mail, a full suit of armor, and was holding a sword that was about 8 feet long. Etched into the broad side of the sword were carvings and characters. He slid back the faceplate to his helmet, which was adorned with a single black feather, and began to speak.

            “Bienvenidos a la casa del ‘Black Knight.’ Tu no puedos salir.” With that, the Black Knight made an exit through the double doors at the top of the stairs, and the soldiers came pouring in from adjacent exits. They flocked down the stairs, and from an assortment of other doors interspersed around the room.

            El Cid and Sancho were ready, and as they leaned on each other back to back, they prepared to destroy their opponents. When the attackers arrived, their swords began to flail and thrash so violently, that all that could be seen were silver streaks of steel and red streams of blood flowing out of falling corpses. The only sounds that could be heard were those of swords crashing and eating through bone, and the dying yelps of fallen soldiers. El Cid utilized his two swords to near perfection, effortlessly lopping of the body parts of all his adversaries. Sancho swung his sword around ferociously, and casually used his machine gun in conjunction as he peppered his foes with bullets. In a few minutes, they had accrued a pile of bodies so high they were knee deep in them. Still, more and more combatants assailed the two fearsome warriors. El Cid, in a stunning display of swordsmanship threw his sword much like a boomerang, and it flew around the room in a large sweeping arc, slicing and dicing through anything unfortunate enough to be in its trajectory. Sancho planted his sword into a heap of bodies, using the leverage to propel himself into the air, and then came crashing down with such force, the resulting tremors broke the legs of many soldiers. The two slowly made their way up stairs throwing men off the stairs and stabbing many others. Soon, blood was cascading down the stairs like a waterfall. When they reached the top, they turned around and looked at what they had done. There were nearly a thousand dead, they had not spared a single man. The only hearts beating were those of the deadly alliance of El Cid and Stephen Ponds, and their arch nemesis’s, Emma Zunz and the Black Knight.


Chapter Six: Sweet Vengeance


            El Cid marched straight through the double doors in pursuit of the Black Knight, but Sancho broke off to the right, in attempts to find Emma Zunz. After a small, and tiring, sprint through the eastern wing of the mansion, Sancho emerged into a dimly lit room. A knife was sticking straight up out of the desk, and the silhouette of a woman could be seen cast against the bookshelf.

            “Tu mataste Don Quixote. El fue mi amigo. Preparas morir, pero eso tiempo yo estoy muy serio.” Sancho Ponds said with a grimace on his face. Emma spun around, holding two ninja stars in her hands.

            “No pienso que tu tienes uno esperanza.” Stephens bloodshot eyes could be seen reflected in his gleaming sword, which he was holding forthright, poised to strike at any moment. A fire blared behind them in a small brick fireplace. Emma, in a sudden motion that was almost imperceptibly swift, lunged forward, threw a star at Sancho and landed in a perfect roll on the floor. The star hit Ponds in the shoulder, and blood began to spout out like a drinking fountain. Screaming in anguish, Sancho thrust forward and began to oscillate his sword. Emma acrobatically dodged all of his attacks. She flipped and bent, moving about as if she were floating in air, seamlessly mixing her style and beauty into an effective defense. Her dancing did not last long, for when she saw an opening in Ponds’ attack, she planted a foot in the wall, jumped over him and with a knife she had extracted from a sheath, sliced him across his healthy shoulder. Ponds spun around, holstered his sword and began to blast away with his machine gun, puncturing holes into all the walls, allowing small beams of light to seep in through the connected room. Emma dodged the bullets as well, and when Ponds ran out of bullets, she took the knife that was planted in her desk, and threw it across the room. It struck him in the heart. He fell to his knees, disappointed in not being able to kill Emma, weeping and not only his own certain death, but the fact that he wasn’t able to get his revenge. Emma came over to him laughing, saying how she had triumphed over him. She got close, and whispered in his ear that she had killed both Don Quixote and his bumbling little sidekick Sancho Ponds. With that, Sancho pulled out the dagger he had hidden up his sleeve, and plunged it through the heart of Emma Zunz. She fell lifeless before him.

            “Estoy  muriendo, pero yo terminado mi busqueda.” On those final words, Sancho died as well, and was finally reunited with his companion Don Quixote, and all was well.


Chapter Seven: The Final Showdown


            El Cid went running through the entire mansion, and finally escaped onto a promenade that exited to a large outside terrace. The whole area was enclosed by a thicket of trees, which were swaying tumultuously in the wind. El Cid felt a few small droplets of rain, the prelude to a storm.

            Standing on an altar of sorts, under a crescent moon was the Black Knight. A light mist was rising from the ground. El Cid began to pace towards the Black Knight, both of them bathed in a blue tone moonlight. El Cid was wielding his two dragon swords, the Black Knight was holding his mammoth sword over his shoulder.

            “Es el tiempo por su muerte Knight.” The Black Knight chuckled. He turned around now, facing El Cid, and recognizing him immediately as the only boy who had ever stood against him. He said no words, but prepared for battle.

            The two clashed in the moonlight, the sounds of their swords clanking resounded into the distance. Two ace fighters, dueling for their lives. Neither had ever been faced with an enemy whom they had considered their equal.

            El Cid was powerful, light and agile, dancing around, his blades the perfect compliments to his motions. He was floating and pulsating like a ribbon in the wind. The Black Knight, a gargantuan beast, swinging his powerhouse of a sword around slowly and precisely. His hulking stature crashing and breaking anything he made contact with. The grace and finesse of El Cid was being matched with the overwhelming brute strength of the Black Knight.

            The two exchanged blows for hours in the ever increasing rain, deflecting and striking, bleeding and bruising. Neither of them would quit or falter, none of them would cede to the other. Finally, the Black Knight’s armor was punctured and broken, pieces of El Cid’s attire was ripped and torn away. With a fierce amount of fortitude, El Cid tossed aside one of his swords. The rain was now a downpour, a deluge falling from the sky. El Cid walked steadily up the Black Knight, and instantaneously lifted and dropped his sword. The motion happened so fast the Black Knight was unable to defend against it. After hours of turbulent battle, the dragon sword of El Cid had come crashing down through the body of the Black Knight. It was a blow brutal enough to pierce right through the Black Knight’s armor and into his cold, dark heart. El Cid pushed the sword into the ground, propping the Black Knight up, impaled through the chest with a sword, hanging motionless in the air. His blood trickled down onto the ground, but was being washed away with the heavy rain. With everyone dead, El Cid had finished his quest, it was time to go home. He exited the mansion, out onto the streets. The rain had subsided. The sun was rising. He was fatigued and downtrodden, but he had vanquished evil and completed his life goal.


            El Cid walked off into the sunset, never to be seen again….

The Jet’s got Brett Favre.  I’ll probably write about that later.