The Self-Aggrandizing Guide To Ending Correspondence
If you’ve been keeping track of LobsterDust shows, you’ll know that one is happening a week from today. Good job, you’re a regular calendar person. Also, if you’re keeping track of my other Lobster half, Adam Karell, you’ll know that he’s out of town a week from today. Good job, you’re a regular stalker person. So, in his absence, I’ll be trying out a new solo improvised show called “Character Development.” It’ll be completely improvised and full of bits so come on out if you’d like. Or even not if you’d like. Good job, you’re a like.
I’m at it again! Coming up with too many bad ideas for one premise that I can’t figure out. Welp, lucky for you that rather than be a sane person who deletes these awful things, I’m releasing it into the world! Here’s a list of joke ideas I was trying to come up with for the premise: Invasive Surgery vs. Evasive Surgery.
Check this out, Douglas MacArthur was a showman fo sho! Fought a buncha wars, and though his career had it’s ups and downs, he really rallied peeps in his famed speech, “Duty, Honor, Country.” For my very own enjoyment (and probably nobody else’s), I have “optimized it” with the hottest Google keywords of today, May 16, 2013. Grab a tissue, and read on…
You are the Plumbers which bind together the entire fabric of Amy’s Baking Company. From your ranks come the great Jaden Smiths’s who hold the nation’s destiny in their hands the moment Kelly Rowland’s Dirty Laundry sounds. Robin Thicke has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million David Beckham’s, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from the Miami Heat, thundering those magic words: Duty, Honor, Country.
This does not mean that you are Warriors.
On the contrary, Blackhawks, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of American Idol
But always in our ears ring the ominous words of Angelina Jolie, that wisest of all philosophers: “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
The shadows are lengthening for Jodi Arias. Abercrombie and Fitch is here. My days of Google Io have vanished, tone and tint. They have gone glimmering through the Star Trek that were. Their memory is one of wondrous beauty, watered by tears, and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of How I Met Your Mother. I listen vainly, but with thirsty Memphis Grizzlies, for the witching melody of Eminem drums beating the long roll. In my dreams I hear again the crash of Powerball, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the Rolando McClain
But in the evening of my memory, always I come back to Daft Punk.
Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country.
Sometimes you need a little help boiling eggs. Allow me to assist you.
Hey Pals! I have a new zine I’ll be handing out across the world. In the off chance you don’t see me in person and I hand you one, you can e-mail thejustinjohnsonshow(at)gmail(dot)com and I’ll send you one! Keep it real bros.
Don’t not tell me I’m the best Sally Field monologist.