These jokes are downright offensive. Don’t blame me. I didn’t write them. After you get offended by them… you will strangely feel yourself want to tell them to others. Enjoy!
Tupac and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
Tupac is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame now. Here is what I think about it.
Pervis Porterhouse
In the small town of Creststone Colorado, Pervis Porterhouse and his brother Ray nathan Porterhouse prepare for their hunt for Bigfoot.
Mercado, 3413 Cahuenga Blvd. W in Los Angeles has a Carnitas Dish That Will Make Your Brain Explode!
I don’t normally write blog posts about food. But I want to do you a favor. I just had the very best pork dish of my entire life. I wanted to tell you where to get it. I want to share this with you because I love you for being a loyal reader. So here it is. Mercado Restaurant on Cahuenga Blvd. in Los Angeles. Order Chef Jose’s Carnitas. A giant hunk of smoking pork that is kind of like your taste buds having an orgy on a beach with supermodels covered in bacon. I’m not even sure what that last part meant because I cant even think straight right now. This dish has my head spinning just thinking about it.
It was smokey, sweet, and had a kick all at the same time. I will never be the same. I am actually kind of angry at Jose because he ruined pork dishes for me for the rest of my life. None will compare I tell you. I actually ejaculated twice during my meal which was pretty awkward because I was sitting at the bar.
Mercado is a small little Tequila Bar. They have all kinds of cool brands of tequila to choose from and a pretty fun decor at the bar. If you are in the Los Angeles area then you don’t want to miss this spot. Do yourself a favor. Order the Carnitas.
The Nomad Economy (www.TheNomadEconomy.com)
Below is an article I wrote for an awesome new website out of London England called “The Nomad Economy.” It’s a website for people who make a living traveling. Check it out.
http://www.thenomadeconomy.com/single-post/2016/08/08/I-didn’t-set-out-to-be-a-nomad
White Belt Challenges Black Belt!
To get physically prepared for my upcoming performances at the Burbank Comedy Festival I decided to challenge 4th degree blackbelt in Gracie Jiu Jitsu to a grappling match. As you can see, all my recent training has really paid off!
Scottsdale, ARIZONA!
I recently did a run of stand up comedy gigs in California, Arizona, and Las Vegas. I had a great time out there in the west! Scottsdale Arizona was incredible. I didn’t know much about Scottsdale when I booked the gig, but I’m really glad I went. Scottsdale is a great town. Awesome people. I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in my life. Why don’t I live there??
Here is some footage from my Saturday night late show. (I think?) I was having some fun poking fun at my audience that night. I certainly hope you enjoy it!
If you like the clip please subscribe to my youtube page!
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True Tales From The Road: A Wolf Says Hello in Oklahoma
I was driving through Oklahoma. I was tired. I just did a string of stand up gigs and now I was road tripping from Los Angeles to Columbus Ohio and started off following Old Route 66. I stopped at a hotel. I paid for one night. I probably should have asked to look at the room first. I guess I also probably should have avoided a hotel on the corner of Crack Alley and Eightball Lane. As I pulled my bags out of the car I was greeted by a hooker. She was probably 475 years old. I think maybe her claim to fame was that she once blew Benjamin Franklin. I was only going to shower, sleep a few hours, and drive. I’ll ignore her and go to my room.
The room had a bad vibe. I cant explain it. My gut was telling me to leave immediately. But I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to sleep. I undressed and got in the shower before I noticed the blood stains. That’s right. blood stains on the wall. Was someone murdered in this bathroom?? Should I ask for some kind of price break for that kind of thing? I’m not sure. I turned on the hot water. A hot shower was definitely in order. The water dripped out. I’m not saying the water pressure is bad. No. I’m saying that there was no water pressure whatsoever. It was fine. I went with it. I sat under the lukewarm gentle stream of Oklahoma City water and did the best I could to get clean.
That’s when the neighbors started having sex. Not normal sex. Weird kind of awkward sex. Luckily it didn’t last long. The guy came quick and then through the paper thin walls I heard them solving the worlds problems by quoting their favorite hardcore metal songs. Maybe I should leave? I should leave, right? Nah. I’ll put on some soft music to drown them out and go to sleep. As soon as I check my email.
I turn on my computer and a cockroach crawled across my screen. Not just a normal sized cockroach. It was wearing the new Jordans. It had to be 6 foot two inches tall. Easy. It ran across the room. I threw a shoe at it and tried to kill it. It caught the shoe and threw it back. Hit me right in the face. That was the last straw.
I grabbed my bags and opened the front door just in time to see a pickup truck drive very slowly past with a greasy looking driver who instead of keeping his eye on the road, stared at me with a wild grin on his face as he passed by. I walked down and packed up my car and was immediately greeted by the 9000 year old hooker.
“Leaving already?” She said. “But for an extra twenty I can take my teeth out!”
I punched the gas pedal like Chris Brown punches a woman and I got my black ass on out of there.
Not thinking clearly I pulled onto the turnpike and drove a long ways. I wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. I drove to a little town in the country. It was 1 AM. I found an Econolodge in the middle of nowhere. My room was around the back of the building, where the woods are. Fine. I just needed to get some sleep. I walked around the corner and the next thing I knew I was face to face with a wolf. A WOLF. Not a dog. Not a coyote. A damn WOLF, brah.
We looked at each other for a long time. I wasn’t scared. I don’t think she was either. I felt like she was waiting for me to throw her some food, or pet her, or something. I’m not sure what. But I didn’t feel threatened. Then she turned and headed for the trees. She took one last look at me and disappeared into the woods.
I’d never been in the presence of a wild wolf before. I’m a city boy. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me much. But there we were. It was a beautiful moment. If I were a man who believes that life gives you signs, I would think that that moment meant something. Maybe it did. I don’t know. But it was pretty cool. Oklahoma knocked me out with that one. And to think, I would have never seen her if I would have stayed and slept at the Old Hooker Cockroach Inn back in Oklahoma City.
I live for little moments like that moment I had with that wolf.
Travel Tales From the Road: God Bless the Honda Motor Company
I was in Kentucky. I won’t say where. I was doing a run of stand up comedy gigs that consisted of biker bars, “gentlemen’s clubs”, a few dive bars, and a couple of actually good comedy clubs and colleges but mostly shit rooms. There was one room that I will never forget.
To call it a dive bar would have been a compliment. The sound system was not much more than a Mr. Microphone with about three feet of cord connected to a DJ booth. There was maybe twenty people there mostly sitting at the bar getting hammered. They were not there for comedy. They didn’t want to watch a comedian. They wanted to drink and talk about where they lost their teeth and which cousin they had sex with, and stuff like that.
The two opening acts went on stage. The crowd tolerated them. Then the host of the show brought me up on stage. I cant remember the name of the town, it’s too many years and two many whiskey shots behind me now, but for the sake of the story, we will call it Bumfuck USA. It seems that Bumfuck had a lacrosse team that they were very proud of. I have two observations about this:
- I was glad the town of Bumfuck had something to be proud of besides crystal meth.
- I had no idea hillbillies even played lacrosse!
Unfortunately for me, the Bumfuck lacrosse team that the townspeople were so proud of had just won a big match and halfway through my act walked into the bar and started celebrating their victory by pounding shots, being loud and disruptive, and interrupting me every five minutes with comments and heckler lines. I tolerated it as much as I could but then I snapped.
“Who are you assholes?” I asked.
“We’re the Bumfuck Lacrosse Team, man! And we just won a big tournament. We’re here to celebrate! We didn’t know it was fag comedy night.”
I had enough.
“Well I have a minute or two left. How about I do some lacrosse material?”
It got very quiet. I was angry. I was angry at the drunk lacrosse players, I was angry at the shitty sound system, I was angry at the asshole who booked me on this shit gig, and I was angry at the manager of the bar for not kicking these jerks out a long time ago.
“Here’s some observational material for ya! You ever notice that Lacrosse isn’t even a real sport? It’s what you play when you don’t have enough athletic ability to play any real sports. I didn’t even know there was a men’s league in lacrosse. Might as well sign up for women’s gymnastics. Lacrosse is so lame that soccer players make fun of them. That’s bad. Fuck lacrosse. It’s boring too. I watch lacrosse when I’m battling insomnia. Works every time. Like ping pong with big silly looking rackets. For years my dad thought I was gay because he found a lacrosse video in my room. I’d rather watch pro golf. I once had a rectal examination and the doctor decided to use the whole fist. That was the second worse thing to ever happen to me. do you know what the first was? Having to sit through a game of bumfuck lacrosse. Did I mention FUCK LACROSSE? Now you boys go play with each others sticks. Fuck you, fuck lacrosse, and fuck this whole town! Good night!”
Everyone was laughing and cheering except the lacrosse team. they were not laughing. At all. For some reason they did not seem to appreciate my particular brand of humor.
I grabbed my guitar, walked off stage, got directly in my car and took off. I didn’t even stop to get paid. I figured I’d try to settle up through the booker later. I was OUT OF THERE.
As I pulled out of the parking lot I noticed a few of the lacrosse douchebags getting into a truck and peeling out to catch up with me. I am not too macho to tell you that I was more than a little scared. They followed me for miles. I couldn’t believe how long they followed me. At one point they pulled up right next to me and showed me that two of them had baseball bats. Looks like they played more than one sport! Hats off to them!
I was really scared. As fate would have it, I was very lucky that night. I had just happened to fill my gas tank. Miles and miles went by. Every time I looked those headlights were right behind me. I was sweating. And I had to pee. It sucked. Then, I’m not sure if they were low on gas, or if they just got bored, but the headlights pulled off at an exit and I drove the Hell out of there.
This story brings me to my point: God bless the makers of the Honda Accord and it’s dependability and great gas milage. If not for them, I might be typing this from a hospital bed with a lacrosse stick shoved firmly up my ass. Here’s to you, Honda Motor Company. Here’s to you! I will ALWAYS drive a Honda!
Do As The Romans Don’t
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do!”
That’s what my friend Jan told me right before he ate his second helping of crickets that he had ordered from a random vendor at the street market in the jungles of Cambodia.
“We’re not in Rome. They don’t eat crickets in Rome. A Roman would look at you like you were nuts if you tried to feed him a cricket.”
I’m not eating a cricket. I could be lost in the woods for days… Better yet, a desert. A dry desert. Devoid of food or water. I could be DYING. I’m still not eating a cricket. Not in Rome, not in Asia, I’m not doing it. I saw people in Asia eating things that just aren’t supposed to be food. I respect their customs as much as the next guy, but I’m not doing it. I’m not eating scorpion, or tarantula, or snake. No. No, no, no. The f#ck out of here, homie. I mean, if the Roman’s had a custom of jumping off a 700 foot tall cliff, would you still be talking all that “Do as the Romans” nonsense? Probably not.
Which brings me to Jake’s Travel Tip #2: Don’t feel like you always have to “do as the Romans do.” But ALWAYS BE RESPECTFUL.
You should respect people’s culture. Always. But if you aren’t comfortable doing things that are locally accepted, be respectful of it. Don’t say things like “What’s wrong with you crazy bastards? Crickets? Have you lost your minds?”
It ends up that people don’t like this kind of a thing. Boy did I learn that one the hard way. This Cambodians can punch pretty hard for little fellas!
So tip number two? No matter what happens, no matter what kind of customs you run into that may seem strange to you, always be cool. Be respectful. Because to locals it’s YOU that’s the strange one with the odd customs. Respect the locals. 
Jan, John, and some kid who tried to rent us a jungle compound for 3 hundred US dollars per month. Complete with bar, kitchen, guest rooms, and monkeys.