Davis Allsop

Professional comedy. Amateur adulthood.

There Once Was Another Man From Nantucket

There once was a man from Nantucket who always got asked if he was that man from Nantucket, and it angered him so. At first, in his youth, it was a fun and playful icebreaker. But even though he grew older, the limerick and the world did not. Meeting new people was a hassle.

“Where are you from?” the pie-faced tour guide would ask.

“Nowhere.”, the man would politely reply.

“Oh everybody is from somewhere, mister.”

“I’m from Massachusetts.”

“What part?” The tour guide simply couldn’t leave it alone.

“What difference does it make what specific area of a state I’m from?” the man would think to himself.

“Nantucket. I’m from Nantucket.”, he would say in surrender, after a long exhale, his eyes pointed at the floor.

It was an insufferable social rhythm. Women would ask if he was that man from Nantucket in front of his children; men younger than him would ask the same question in the sociable minutes before boardroom meetings. The man was pushed slowly to the edge by each new face he encountered. All he wanted was to be left alone. Why should he be the one to bear the grief of another? Many men were from Nantucket - why did one man with a weirdly narcissistic party trick have to ruin it for everyone else? The man was driven wild of mind, day after day, smiling stranger after smiling stranger. And like a child being teased, he knew that the only solution was to embrace the chaos and go with the flow. He woke early that morning to a Greatest Bagpipe Hits compact disc he’d gotten months ago when he thought he liked bagpipes before he would realize he did not. He took his ritualistic shower, put on his best pair of shoes, donned only his khaki trench coat, shut the still-unlocked door behind him, and stepped out into the world.

“Is this what you want?!!” he screamed maniacally to a full subway car as he tore open his trench coat. For the first time in a long time, the strangers first wondered if it was his birthday before they wondered where he was born. ‘I AM THE MAN FROM NANTUCKET!” he shouted, wearing only his birthday suit before a policeman tackled him to the ground. When the train reached its next stop, he had regained his wits and was escorted roughly from the train car into police custody. Jailed for indecent exposure, the man knew he would never work in this town again. Where could he show his face? His family would surely disown him. But as his fingers were inked and his file filled out, no one asked him where he was from; no one needed to know from which little part of a little state he hailed. It had been costly, but the man had gotten what he had always wanted.

There once was a man from Nantucket, who should have just said he was from Pittsburgh.

LOS ANGELES

               A man and woman are having brunch on the sidewalk outside of a restaurant.

                                                          Man: “I love Coke.”

                                               Woman: “Me too. Do you like 7Up?”

                                                   Man: “Oh, I don’t drink soda.”

"NEED A WEB PRESENCE? CALL ME ON A TELEPHONE!"

"NEED A WEB PRESENCE? CALL ME ON A TELEPHONE!"

This made my week.

This made my week.

Why Weiner’s a Real Weiner’s Weiner

Apparently after a lifetime of bullying, it still hadn’t set in - his last name was Weiner. Pronounced like the appendage rather than someone who didn’t get his way, New York politician Anthony Weiner might as well have grown up Anthony Penis, Tony Dong, or Antone Tallywhacker. Repeatedly being called a weiner day after day, even by your own parents, must take domineering spot in the shaping of a young boy’s life. Surely it is a cumbersome plight when your day-to-day boyhood dream is for a common mispronunciation of your last name and the resulting half-hearted chuckle at the realization you must be an annoying complainer by birthright. It’s hard enough already being a kid, a teenager, and an adult without being called Weiner. Imagine having one as well! How could we know the effects? How could we be prepared for the results? You see, for the entirety of his days, Anthony Weiner has been thinking with his penis. Whether with his big head or with his little one, it was always, still, a weiner. And it was perhaps therefore unavoidable, inevitable, or even Destiny* that brought Anthony Weiner into the political spotlight.

As a man he was cursed by the name; as a politician, Anthony Weiner was freed by it. In a world where scandals were a la carte menu items, he could do anything he wanted. His last name wasn’t Fraud, Embezzlement, or even AcceptingUnlawfulGiftsFromLobbyists. In political circles John McCain was known as a bit of a Maverick - Weiner could go Commando. So long as it wasn’t a sex scandal, Weiner would be golden. “Keep it in your pants, Weiner”, he would say to himself during private moments in office, unsure if he was advising himself in the third person or using the man-and-time-tested tradition of nicknaming his penis with his own name. Weiner could have made an off-color remark about the voting rights of color-blind citizens. “Well, he’s an absolute weiner” the people would scoff. He could have clubbed a baby seal in the cafeteria at the offices of PETA. “What a weiner!” citizens would cry. He even could have pushed a weinermobile filled with orphans and delicious meats into a lake, an elaborate and confusing scandal indeed. Anything other than a sex scandal - anything - and ole Weiner comes out smelling like… well, a weiner**. But despite the gift of freedom the once-constricting name had given him, Anthony Weiner just couldn’t help himself; Weiner’s weiner wanted out.

Through the ‘spheres the dick pics traveled: the blogospheres, the twitterspheres, and even the geographical hemispheres. People in Australia took a slightly longer moment to be appalled as the images downloaded upside down and were then corrected with a few keyboard strokes. And in a flash Weiner’s weiner was global and his political career not even allowed to be local. “Get this Weiner out of my face!” shouted Democratic party leaders and people in front of their computers, in unison. Anthony Weiner tucked himself between his legs and went home. Well he embarrassed his wife and then went home. We thought he’d learned his lesson. We thought that was the last of Weiner’s weiner.

And then he started sending photos of a Mexican wrestler’s weiner around the ‘spheres; he made his wife trot out behind him and stand there as he apologized again. Weiner was being a real dick. But had we asked too much of the man? He’d been troubled by a name that needed no help being made fun of and then set free by it to commit any political trespasses he saw fit; save of course for one, now-seen-by-everyone small thing. But he couldn’t do it. And then he couldn’t do it again. And that’s when we all learned that Anthony Weiner was a special kind of real weiner’s weiner.

*Sexting victim and exotic dancer Destiny Cristal was unavailable for comment on her role in the sexting scandal at the time of press.

**Hot dogs have an indisputably delicious smell. This author knows of at least two florists that refer to roses as the “grilled pork” of flowers.

Kiera Knightley Accidentally Commits to Health PSA

On Friday, Kiera Knightley accidentally committed to star in a health education PSA about menstruation, a move that sources close to Knightley say could destroy her career. The A-list actress, who normally books months of work at time on high-profile films, has signed on at scale for a one-day-shoot about women’s changing bodies. Producers were thrilled to attach the star to a regional level short film aimed at girls in 5th and 6th grade.

Many Hollywood insiders wonder how such a career gaffe could come about in the life of a highly managed celebrity. When asked for a comment, a representative for Knightley shouted “Why on earth do you think she would ever want to do the bloody thing?!”. (He could not be reached for follow-up clarification on whether he meant that in the British sense or the biological one).

The starlet tweeted later on Friday night that her “agent negotiates project offers and it has become standard policy to accept any period piece without reading it.”

This is pretty much the arc of my life in gif form.

This is pretty much the arc of my life in gif form.

Debit Card Rewards!

Hey Chase,

Thanks for the opportunity to earn 5% cash back at Burger King! After $12 a month for the privilege of giving you my money (for free) so you can invest and profit from it, the $0.25 on a combo meal is much appreciated.

Love,

Davis

Minivan Math

# of People in Van - What’s Going On

1 = Pedophile

2 = Kidnappers

3 = Band

4 = Family

5+ = Cult