I don’t care about Halloween this year, 2024. (Probably because Im old, and crabby. I like seeing slutty costumes, but Im just too lazy) “Girl” trouble. Smile 2 (“tWoOo?!”) Trump was on Rogan and Hinchliffe was at Trump, and people handled it as maturely and reasonably as you’d expect. I want credit for being DECADES ahead of “we all hate Mariah Carey Christmas music now.” Grave circumstances in Bevery Hills.

I finished The Godfather, and give my final thoughts on the fucker. (You won’t have to hear about it again. At least not for a long time. Probably.) I saw that movie “The Apprentice” about young Trump and Roy Cohn. I was lulled in by suggestions that it was “objective” and almost “sympathetic” to the man; spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I talk about the Will Haven/Strife show at the Troubador.

*Editor’s Note: The song I was referring to was “SAIL,” from AWOL Nation. Not “Air,” as I erroneously portended.

The story of my two tattoos, esp the lousy Star Wars one that I have that I’m too much of a pussy to get fixed. (For now) The story of this guy that had his amazing scenes cut from Return Of The Jedi, and how it must have impacted his life. I met the most Evan-y Evan of all time. The Ed Wood screening, with Dana Gould.

My sentence for being a self indulgent pig: hamburger hands. A slight reduction on my fatty sides! Things that are needlessly and hopelessly difficult and insanely expensive in Los Angeles: getting your concealed carry permit, rejoining Central Casting, getting your haircut. Rusty came to visit, we saw “Saturday Night.” (That SNL movie)

Escape the fate on a windshield AND a door! After a two month reprieve, the daily doom and gloom is back. A homeless guy was too good for my shoes. (AND socks) Who the FUCK is "Carmela Creeper?!" Chipotle Incompetence. SOMETHING IS STILL BITING ME, DAILY. At night I can’t sleep, I toss & turn. Saturday night Date with Blood In, Blood Out. Real World Season 2 revisit. Bruce’s show, and an accidental viewing of the god awful Roadhouse remake. I complain about Penguin and the Godfather book some more, and talk about people talking about my stupid screenplay/mini series. (It’s not stupid, it’s good, why am I defenestrating myself)

Megalopolis is quite possibly the most pretentious movie in Hollywood history. Im still watching Tulsa King, somehow. I feel like a real fraud piece of shit at the Comedy Store, and totally don’t need therapy. I’m still watching The Penguin, are you?

I guess I’ll never see Sepultura again. Tennis in Los Angeles has a few different interpretations. (I found out the hard way) I tried to take headshots but deserved a different type of “headshot.” Sympathy for McClusky. October 1 2024, everything is just going great! Definitely still a 1st world country. Last note about “1923,” I promise. (Well, at least until another fuckin season comes out…) Hot LA comedy gos, you get the inside scoop and an ear full of poop.

I moved to LA twenty years ago this week. They need to invent an “avocado blower” next, I guess. Chipotle Incompetence, and what’s up with the youth? Someone needs to reign in these paper towel companies, it’s out of control. The Penguin on HBO. The Montgomery Clift crash site. The making of Thriller documentary on Paramount Plus. I read the Godfather and complain about the book adaptation. (Coppola really is a fucking fraud, I’m sorry, film purists…)

Just to round off the “hate list,” I can’t stand Rainn Wilson either. The old guy at CVS. We had a real ripe banana crisis in this city on Monday. (As if it weren’t a banana republic as it is already, LOLLL!!!) I think I spend more time complaining about the direct flight to NC and back more than actually talking about the NC trip. And the sad part is, the flights weren’t even that troublesome. I’m wound tighter than the guy from Bloodlet’s snare drum.

I couldn’t find the picture of that Vietnamese girl from part 1, but I inadvertently sent myself on a journey of discovery into my past, and illuminated some new revelations. (One of them being “I’ve sent a LOT of dick pics in the last 15yrs”) I hate Kumal Nanjiani, but let me tell you why. I went to watch the Trump/Kamala debate live, and left dissatisfied on about 19 different levels. (Chicken tenders were involved) Trump is a bore on podcasts, and if I never hear about “the golden years of the Boston comedy scene” again, it’ll be too fuckin soon. People seem to have hated Beetlejuice 2, I held strong and instead went to see Terminator 2. Jack Black was behind me in line for it, and I have a litany of thoughts about him AND the movie. Rain globs keep falling on my car, and (also) fuck “I see what you did there” guy, a fresh scourge in the Lukester’s online life. I had a total Saturday night misfire, and I advocate for a “fats only” section of the beach. The Bureau has added “my laundromat” to their list of targets.