After graduating Mercy High School in Red Bluff in 1980, I moved to Chico so I could drop out of college. I kept doing comedy to stay hungry and started working at the brewery to get fat.


My mom and all her teacher friends would say, “It's nice that you’re doing what you want to do (long sigh, rolling eyes), but you should really finish college so you have something to fall back on.”


Something to fall back on? Like a ten-year debt for a five-year waste of time? "Ah yes, this is very comfortable to fall back on. I'm a real adult now!”


The same people used to tell me, “With your stage experience, you could be a good teacher." I guess what they were saying is that if I didn’t make it as a foul-mouthed nightclub comedian, I could always teach your kids. Y'know, something to fall back on. This would be me as a teacher--


"Okay, class...(holding my head, sounding like Tom Waits) here's the 4-1-1...(cough, fart)
Mr. Standish gave up drinking again this morning. Except for this little Bloody Mary with a beer chaser. So, today we’re gonna watch some t.v. Then we’re all gonna put our heads down for about five, six hours. Or you can leave. But if you don’t come back for your next class, don’t come back at all. If I get called to the principal's office, we're all going down. (hock, spit) Anybody got a cigarette?"


I would not have made a good teacher. Plus I can’t be around kids when they’re picking on each other. It brings back too many memories of having my own sixth grade head flushed down the eighth grade toilet. I was a favorite target of bullies, because to their way of thinking if you beat up the class clown that makes you the funniest guy in school. Anytime the psychopaths were feeling humorous I’d get my ass kicked. Taught me how to deal with hecklers though. Somebody starts something with me now, I curl up in a ball and start crying until their girlfriend feels sorry for me. If that doesn't work, I bash their head in with a microphone stand screaming "I hate bullies!" at the top of my lungs. This usually puts an end to any heckling, as well as any laughter. A scared audience is a polite audience.


Is it any wonder I’m a big believer in vasectomies? I've had three so far. Just to be sure. Take an honest look around, especially if you live in Anderson. In most cases it’s just the right thing for the planet. They should be offering free vasectomies for Earth Day.


It’s not like it’s complicated or risky. Not like when my dad got his back in the ‘70’s. Those dangerous, old back alley vasectomies. Angry libbers chasing you around with a plastic fork and a paper cup. "C'mere, breeder!"


Nowadays they don’t even try to talk you out of it. “So, Mr. Standish--you don’t want to have children? We can see your point. Put your balls on the table, please.”


Which is something I hear at home all the time. Except for the please part. So I wasn’t scared, except when they cut off my boys and replaced them with these weird spermicidal sponges. They look like the real things--they're ugly and two different sizes. But it was simple. Like an abortion or ripping off a band-aid. It hurt a little for half a day, but after that I was cumming all over everyone.


"Hey--check it out--no sperm! Oops, sorry officer..."


For those of you educated in the public school system that’s not the same as no semen, okay? I could cum right now if I wanted to, but who would know? (Aside from whoever uses this Kinko's computer next...) We need our own webcam fake news show.


So you see my point about not being a good teacher. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. By the time I was old enough to get a real job I didn’t want one anymore. That's why I do this. Permanent job insecurity. So stay in school, kids--there's no work anyway.


Posted on 5/1/10


For more more insights on kids from someone who doesn't have any, go read Liz Merry's latest Unmentionables column here




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