kingjamie.net

New Year, new post, new zany project.

Since I am quite obviously all about updating this blog, I’ve decided it’s time to start another one. In conjunction with my good friend Merredith Griffin I’ve launched a hot new entrepreneurial endeavor called ”Coprocinephilia,” which literally translates as “the love of shitty movies.”

In recent years I’ve discovered a deep love and abiding affection for objectively terrible films. While there is no shortage of bad movie appreciation blogs out there, ours is the first to ask why. Why do so many people love to see movies fail at every possible level? What makes one bad movie more satisfying then another? And if we can find a way to judge them, is it possible to find the perfect bad movie?

To that end we’ve developed a scoring system largely based on feces, reasoning that:

A) Pooping, like watching bad movies, feels good while inducing shame.

B) Poop is funny.

Check out the site here. Let us know what you think and don’t hesitate to send more movies recommendations our way. In the end, there can be only one.

It gives me great pride to announce the premier of my new show, “Stephen King’s High School Musical,” this Thursday at 6PM at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theatre (307 W. 26th Street).
Danny Torrance is a talented young writer and the most popular boy at Castle Rock High. But when he meets Carrie White, a mysterious redhead with a history of heartbreak and telekinesis, he learns that sometimes the most terrifying thing in Maine…is love.
Will everybody laugh at them? Will Danny succumb to the deadly charms of Dolores, his “Number One Fan?” Will he be murdered by his Dad? And how does that creepy clown over there feel about all this? Find out December 17th!

Created by Jamie King and Sam Rosenberg
Directed by John Flynn
Book & Lyrics by Jamie King
Music by Jamie King and Sam Rosenberg

Staring:
Sam Rosenberg
Sarah Jane Marek
Kendra Treichler
Alessandro Colla
Bob Barth
Brianna Tyson
and Utkarsh Ambudkar as Dollawise the Evil Rapping Clown

Musicians:
Jamie King and Chris Montgomery

Things that are true:
The show runs 30 minutes.
It is appearing as the second of three UCB “Spank” Shows which means THE ACTUAL START TIME WILL BE CLOSER TO 6:30. But please come at 6PM if you can and support our co-workers in comedy.
Only $5 for all three shows.
Sometimes…dead is better.

For those unfamiliar, McSweeney’s is a pretty awesome and hilarious publication based in San Francisco and founded by David Eggers. After a few failures, I managed to get them to publish one of my pieces (about failure) on their website.

Please check it out here.

A few clarifications:

1) I did “South Pacific” in 12th grade. My first show was “Rhumba Tia: The Rumpelstiltskin of the South Seas” (title roll). I changed it for believability.

2) I played bass in the gay punk band. But we did most definitely have a keytar player.

3) Tristan did not smell like Chex Mix. That was a cheap joke and I regret it. Tristan, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I think you’re a good guy and am sincerely impressed by your sailboat, wife, child and the success of your life in general. I hope this won’t be awkward at the reunion.

Other than that, everything is true.

Jessica Biel - “Wesley was scary, it was intimidating, he was Blade, he did not say much to me…we did not become friends. He had parties, I did not attend.”

Ryan Reynolds - ”I guess it’s the method acting things, but…I’m not sure I ever really met Wesley Snipes.”

David Goyer (Screenwriter) - ”…he was Blade on and off the set.”

Dear Sexy Vampires,

You must be feeling pretty pleased with yourselves right now. While I rot in here, unjustly imprisoned, your twisted kind has infiltrated the American media, tightened your icey grip on Hollywood and stolen the hearts of pre-pubescent girls everywhere. I can’t turn on my tiny, state-issued television for 5 minutes without seeing advertisements for your latest movies, books and TV shows. You’re everywhere. You must truly think that you’ve won.

You’re wrong.

You thought you could fool the police into locking me up for “tax fraud.” Millions of dollars that you claim I “owed” to the federal government. You know as well as I do what a pathetic joke that is.

I am the Daywalker.

I do not pay the taxes of man.

As a halfbreed I am subject to neither the laws of humans nor vampires. These four walls cannot hold me forever, or even for the three year minimum sentence. Soon, very soon, Kris Kristofferson will come for me and I will escape. And when I do, make no mistake…

I am going to kill each and every one of you.

Robert Pattinson, you will be first. If you want to kill a snake you must first cut off its moody, chiseled head. I will stab you in the back with my double-ended knife while you are distracted by your mixed feelings about having sex with your girlfriend. Then I will have sex with your girlfriend. I will not be conflicted about it. The other members of your terrible franchise will fall before me with equal ease. I will beat the 17-year-old werewolf into an adorable fleshy pile and then move on to the human collaborator behind this takeover: I will travel to Forks and rip Stephenie Meyer’s heart out in front of her. Then I will use her blood to pen the script for “Blade 4″ while she watches. Her last thought on this earth will be to admire my competent writing ability before drowning in her blood and the shame of her terrible prose.

I’m coming for you next, cast of “True Blood.” I will find Stephen Moyer’s lair in the bright light of day. While he dreams of conquest, I will gut him unceremoniously with a throwing star before he has the chance to utter a throaty, drawling plea for mercy. I will skin him and wear his handsome face as a disguise when I go to visit Anna Paquin. Her mind-reading abilities will be unable to penetrate the mind of a Daywalker and she will believe me to be her fanged lover. “How was your day?” I will ask her and she will say “fine” and I will say “do you find the racial metaphors in our show to be preachy and condescending?” and she will say “no, I don’t think so” and then I will say “look over there, it’s the magical pig from season two” and she will say “where?” and then I will stab her. As she bleeds out I will tell her that she is a vampire loving whore, and also that I enjoyed her in “The Piano.” The remainder of the cast won’t even take the rest of the afternoon. Alexander Skarsgård, you must think you’re pretty powerful, breaking hearts with your tall, Skaddenavian good looks. We will see who swoons after I have gouged out your eyes with a staple remover. Evan Rachel Wood, you were already on my short list for doing a sex video with Marilyn Manson; now I will destroy you for good in a hail of silver bullets.

I will not stop there. The pre-teens from “The Vampire Diaries” will suffer drive-by decapitation from the seat of my motorcycle. John C. Riley, star of “The Vampire’s Assistant,” will receive a merciful shotgun blast to the head, mainly because of Boogie Nights. I will infiltrate the major networks and destroy the casts from next season’s crop of vampire shows before they even make it to the airwaves. I will do so in the middle of an impressive series of flips and then I will put on my sunglasses, even though it will most likely be dark outside. No one will hear the cool one-liner that I will utter because there will be too many screams from bereaved loved ones and misguided female fans, but rest assured, it will be awesome.

Enjoy your dominance of pop culture while you can my pale half-brothers; it won’t last. I’ve been in worse spots than this before and I still came out on top. If there’s one thing my long career as an actor and vampire hunter has taught me, it’s this:

Always bet on Blade.

Here are a few more topical monologue jokes from today’s news. Picture me in a tight suit swaying nervously in front of a studio audience. We’re both actually sitting alone under florescent lights, but let’s pretend…

Mackenzie Phillips announced on Opera today that she had a sexual relationship with her father John Phillips, leader of the 60s pop group “The Mamas and the Papas.” She also revealed that it was Mama Cass who prevented John from naming the group “The Papas and Their Sexy Kids.”

Yahoo unveiled a new marketing strategy this week. Updating its stale image, the Internet giant is testing out several new names, including “Yee-Haw!” “Whoopsie Daisy!” and “Heeeeeeeyyyy yoooooouuuuu guuuuuuuuuys!”

A recent study of car crash survivors has revealed that victims are more likely to avoid brain injury if they were drinking prior to the accident. Today, Mothers Against Drunk Driving released the statement, “Come on…really? You’re killin’ us here.”
The findings were vehemently defended by head researcher Dr. Billy Joel.

I am so not even close to completing my goal of watching every Stephen King Movie ever made. However I have made some major discoveries along the way. The first one is this:
“The Running Man” is THE WORST MOVIE IN THE HISTORY OF FILM and you know that’s saying a lot coming from me. This is movie must be the origin of every bad Schwarzenegger cliche: the gratuitous violence, the implausible romance, the terrible, terrible acting, but most notably…the one liners. I don’t think Arnold has a single line of dialog in this film that is not a groaningly bad pun at his victim’s expense. Can you imagine how frustrating that would be in real life?

Maria Shriver: Sweetheart, the light bulb in the garage just burned out, would you go and change it please?
Arnold: No problem. Thanks for the…bright idea!
Maria Shriver: Sure. And would you mind picking up a gallon of milk on your way home tonight?
Arnold: You are like gallon of milk Maria…you do my body good!
Maria Shriver: Aw, I love you sweetheart.
Arnold: And I love you too…with my penis!
Maria Shriver: I’m leaving.
Arnold: See you later…with my penis!

As hilariously campy as this movie was it was just too contrived and badly written to hold even my interest and I soon found myself reading Jesse Ventura’s bio on my iphone while mouthing along with the predictable dialog in the background. HOWEVER, I will award bonus points for the inexplicable and overly-long 80s dance numbers sprinkled throughout the film which do nothing to further the plot but everything to lighten the pretentious mood.
While so far “The Running Man” takes the cake (of my hatred) there are a couple crucial “also rans” worthy of mention:
“Silver Bullet” is a movie involving Gary Busy and a werewolf (disappointing spoiler: they are not one and the same). The FX in this movie are a brutal reminder of the benefits we’ve gained through digital technology; for every slim CGI Yoda that fails to improve upon the puppet there are a dozen guys in crappy wolf suits with clearly visible separations around the wrists, waist and neck. How are those so hard to conceal? The thing’s covered with hair for fuck’s sake! Despite the shoddy monster’s tendency to take me out of the action, Big Man Busey, God love him, was always there to pull me back in. There’s something about watching an actor who you know deep down is clinically insane; it just makes their performance so much more believable. Even if there are seams on the suit I’m sure it’s all very real to Buse-Dog. Incidently, the Businator has amassed a B-movie resume that would make Loyd Kaufman blush. My favorite titles are “Lethal Tender,” “The Gingerdead Man” and of course “Livers Ain’t Cheap.” Non-BusBus-related bonus points go to this movie for making the werewolf fight a paraplegic Corey Haim and his rocket-launching wheelchair.
See this little guy on the left? That, my friend, is a Shit Weasel, and I’m afraid that everything you’ve just inferred about him is all too true. That’s why the Award for Making Me Afraid of My Own Asshole goes to the film “Dreamcatcher.” This relatively recent flick showcases check-cashing turns from B+ list actors like Tom Sizemore, Jason Lee and Donnie Wahlberg as well as an uncharacteristically violent and vocal Morgan Freeman. The cause of Mr. Freeman’s distress is largely related to the fact that people around him have started SHITTING OUT TOOTHY MONSTERS. Unlike most Steven King movies, the flaw in this one isn’t so much in the execution as in the premise, which is essentially, “Let’s remake ‘Alien’ but with more shitting. Also let’s replace the awesome airlock battle at the end with some confusing-ass mind-war on the astral plane.” I’ll forgive Stephen this one; he apparently wrote it as he was recovering from a near-fatal car accident and was probably on heavy pain medication. I do, however, place blame on the producers for committing his hallucinations to film. This should be a lesson to them, as it was to the characters in the movie, that just because someone might seem reliable, it doesn’t mean that everything they shit out is necessarily good news.
Perhaps I should have been a little more diligent about this movie review project. I don’t think I realized quite what I was getting into. Maybe if I had reviewed one movie a week for a year I could have been an overnight success, like that blogger in “Julie and Julia.” Then they would have made a movie pairing my life story with that of Stephen King! And while the Stephen King story line would have been much more compelling, the parallels between the two characters would have ultimately made for a very entertaining film! Man that would have been sweet! Oh well.

CHECK OUT THIS VIDEO I MADE!!! CLICK THESE WORDS, YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT!!!
I cranked this video out a while ago to accompany my live zombie sketch show “TMZ TV” at the UCB Theatre and in Montreal. It’s ridiculously high quality, filmed on the RED camera (i.e. fancy) and directed by my friend A.J. Del Cueto. I wrote it and star in it along with my friends Mandi Bedbury and Ed Deimer. If you want to see some highlights from the “TMZ…” live show, I’ve posted a ridiculously low-quality video here.
And thusly I bring to a close of what historians will later call my “Zombie Period,” and begin broadening my horizons to include more diverse characters from horror movies, comic books and other nerdy mediums.

Might there come a time when a global zombie apocalypse will eradicate gender inequality forever?
A time in the not-so-distant future but stylistically similar to the 1920s?
A time when love will truly conquer all?
Probably not, but we made this video about it anyway.

I recently received a letter from a concerned OMFG member; a perplexing response to my tirade against “MaxGain” Male Enhancement Pills:

Dear sir or madam
my name is [name withheld] i am working for Ministry of Education as an database developer in Afghanistan. my penis is smaller than others I want to buy the penis enlargement pills how can i get it.
thanks for your order which is published on your website.

My response is as follows:

Dear Penis Smaller Than Others,
I’m sorry to say that you, along with many other proud men of our generation, have fallen victim to the swarm of enhancement advertisements that assault our self esteem every day. While I’m sure the Afghani Ministry of Education must be a minefield of massive members, the key is to not let insidious subject lines give you the impression that you need some sort of herbal supplement to be more of a man. You’re a flower PSTO, and do you judge the beauty of a flower based on the size of it’s petals? No.
I urge you and all those who feel they are living in the helmet-shaped shadow of “others” to resist the subliminal social control of your spam filters. Below is a small sampling of actual subject lines from enhancement product e-mail ads scraped from my inbox. I am publishing them here to raise awareness of this other-gendered brainwashing, which tries to sell you something you don’t need through shame and intimidation.

The Backhanded:

Erase the memories of your bed failures
Enlarging your tool means enlarging your manhood in general
Make her forget her ex in one night
A man’s member determines his destiny

The Poetic:

She begged for more
From tiny to humongous
No pain, yes gain!
Rock her so hard tonight
Power pack a punch in your pants

The Inspirational:

Your pants will be in order all the time.
No problem with pounding her
Hump like crazy all night
Get a pole the hulk will be proud of

The Adorably Dyslexic:

Betetr sex in 10 Minutees
The Secret rAt off Lovemaking

The Unashamed Non-Sequiturs:

Clowns raped cops
Gaaay Episcopalians

My Favorite - The Warning:

Here’s How to Make a Girl Beg Yrou For sex - Do Not Be Surprised If She Demaands sex Immediately

I have decided that I need put my finger on the pulse. I live in New York City, the center of the universe, and it’s a waste of my time and my audience (ha!) to spend my career (double ha!) making jokes about boobs and zombies (please note: both are still awesome).
To that end, I have started to read the Google news feed at work and attempt to crank out five topical jokes a day. This effort has produced a lot of crap, a few gems and a great wave of depression.
Update: the world, when you study it minute by minute, is a terribly shallow and misguided place. For example, I have read something about Spencer and Heidi Pratt EVERY DAY since I started this project. If you are one of my friends who lives in the woods or on a farm and remains blissfully unaware of their existence, they are the blond couple from “The Hills” who have somehow managed to perpetuate fame based on NOTHING into something almost resembling a career. They will do anything to stay in the headlines: pose nude, cut rap albums, even talk shit to Al Roker, widely acknowledged as the NICEST MAN ALIVE. In case you can’t tell by my liberal use of capital letters, I consider them both tan, vapid heralds of the apocalypse.
Even more disturbing is the kerfuffle between David Letterman and Sarah Palin. As a quick re-cap, Letterman made a joke last week about Palin’s daughter getting knocked up by Alex Rodriguez at a Yankees game. Unfortunately Letterman’s fact-checkers were remise in discovering that it was Palin’s 14-year old daughter that accompanied her to the game, not her 18-year old daughter. This transformed the joke from one about a girl who is internationally famous for getting knocked up to a joke about statutory rape. Most comedians will tell you that rape, much like aids, incest and race (if you’re white) is one of those few topics that are rarely fair game. Consequently, Palin’s disturbingly large amount of followers have spent the last week crucifying Letterman in the media and demanding his dismissal.
My refuffle (rebuttal of kerfuffle) is as follows: Letterman made a joke. He didn’t intend it as it was interpreted and most people understand that jokes are by definition not factual claims. In Palin’s response, she said that he was a “sexist pervert” and that it would be unwise to let him near her underage daughter. So Palin can make the factual claim the David Letterman is a sex offender, smearing the reputation of a good man and a new father himself, while Letterman’s comment, no matter how you interpret it, was clearly over-the-top humor that no one could possibly believe to be true. And yet it’s his job that’s on the line. He had to cross a picket line to get to work yesterday, blocks from my office. On Monday he begged her forgiveness on air. It don’t know what’s scarier: Palin’s political machine or America’s sense of humor. Either way we’re in trouble.
Last night at an open mic I considered starting a counter-protest, encouraging the comics to march down to Letterman’s studio and demand that people comprehend the difference between snickering and slander. However it then occurred to me that comics would make pretty lousy protestors. Work is scarce, and while we might fight tooth and nail for the rights of Letterman and his writers, if they did get the ax we’d be the first to apply for their jobs. And you can bet we’d shut the fuck up about Sarah Palin.
So to that end, here’s my opening bid for Letterman’s job: the top five topical jokes that I’ve written in the last couple of weeks:

Teenager Kavya Shivashankar won the Scripps National Spelling Bee on Thursday night, becoming the seventh Indian-American in eleven years to claim the title. In light of this, Bee officials are revising a rule that requires contestants to spell their opponent’s last names.

According to Forbes Magazine, Angelina Jolie replaced Oprah Winfrey this year as the most powerful celebrity in the world. While Oprah still made much more money, the balance of power shifted when Angelina adopted her.

Millvina Dean, the last remaining survivor of the famous “Titanic” cruise ship, died on Sunday. She takes with her the only memories of the terrible, foolish, avoidable tragedy of naming a baby Millvina.

The daughter of Cher and Sonny Bono announced that she is having a sex change and becoming a man. When the surgery is complete, Chastity Bono will become the first heterosexual man who likes Cher.

This week Facebook officially became the #1 social networking site in the US, dethroning MySpace, which was forced to layoff 400 workers. Facebook’s press release stated, “We’re sorry for the lost jobs, but we didn’t get into this business to make friend requests.”

I hope my fans (triple ha!) got a grin out of those. I think that might be the only way to validate the emotional price I’m paying for taking a good, hard look at the world, minute by minute.