I’m from Generation X, and I’ve never sent or received a dick pic. I don’t think all the Millennials understand: when I was your age, no one sent dick pics. No one even had a dick back then. Let alone the technology to send an image of it to someone instantly. Some of my friends STILL don’t have dicks. I’ll say to my buddy, NAME REMOVED, “How’s your dick? Have you been using it much?” He’ll say, “Nah, I don’t have one. I never got into it. I don’t see the point, dude.” (That’s the kind of blasé attitude people hate about Gen X'ers!) I try to tell these guys, “Look, there are a lot of things you can do with a dick. It gives you a way of connecting with people.” They’ll be like, “Nah, man, a dick is just to share with people you barely even knew in high school. I’d rather have people get to know me and not my dick. I’d rather spend my time the way I want, listening to R.E.M. and watching Wynona Ryder movies, than trying to win a popularity contest with my dick.” And I’ll be like, “You don’t even have a dick!” And he’ll just shrug. So, you see, I don’t do dick pics, and I don’t understand them, but I’m not exactly proud of my peers either. I may be Gen-X, but at least I have a dick, and I try to use it as positively and productively as I can.
See Tim perform stand-up @ littlefield! WATCH ON YOUTUBE
I live in Brooklyn where everyone is into pickling. Not me. What I do to buck this stupid trend is, I go to an outdoor market, say the Brooklyn Flea, and buy someone’s ridiculously handcrafted, artisanal pickles. Then I go home and remove all the vinegar, salt, and seasoning -- I turn them back into cucumbers, their natural state before some hipster messed with them. (It takes many hours of gently squeezing and wringing the pickles, so as not to tear their delicate fibers.) Then I'll take the revived cukes to the grocery store and set them free on the shelf, with their friends. I think they’re happy, though it’s pretty hard to tell with cucumbers. Some people don't like what I do. I’ve been called an "unpickled pecker" -- which is fine with me! At least I know I'm doing something to fight the unnecessary brining and fermentation of vegetables that everyone does now, just to be cool. Stop the brining...stop pickling!
Behold the new song I wrote and recorded with my band, Modern Beast. It's an ode to a legend...a sunny summer single...2 mins of AM soft-rock gold. Share the love for the Brooklyn Thong Guy!
As part of the 3rd Annual NY Funny Song Fest, produced by the amazing Jessica Delfino, I'll be co-hosting and performing in Hooklyn: Funny Songs from & about Brooklyn on Sat, May 31, 8:30 pm at People's Republic of Brooklyn (247 Smith St). GET TIX ($10)! ($12 at the door)
I'll also be on the bill at 50 Funny Songs on Fri, May 30, 7 pm at Botanic Lab (86 Orchard St, NYC) -- an exciting and sure to be sold-out night of the fest. GET TIX ($10)! ($12 at the door)
Don't miss NYC'S only comedy, parody, and novelty music festival! www.nyfunnysongs.com
Here I am, pimpin' it at the Fest last year...
MORE INFO ABOUT HOOKLYN!
Mo Fathelbab and Tim Ellis, hosts of Manifesto! bring you HOOKLYN: Funny Songs from & about Brooklyn. Capping off a day of special shows at PRB, as part of the 3rd Annual NY Funny Songs Fest, comedic musicians perform their greatest hits about NYC’s most populous, hip, and hilarious borough! Featuring Chromatic Stampede, Jessica Delfino, Killy “Mockstar” Dwyer, Tim Ellis, King I’Wante, Jim Melloan, Lauren Maul, Rob Paravonian and more. $10 in advance CLICK HERE/$12 at the door.
4 a.m. Tim and Michelle, a hip and sexy Brooklyn couple, lie in bed. Michelle has earplugs in. Out of the predawn serenity, Tim farts.
TIM: Excuse me.
MICHELLE: (Taking out one earplug.) What?
TIM: (To audience.) I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d already said “excuse me.” Why make two announcements?
MICHELLE: Did you say something?
MICHELLE: (Pause.) Did you fart?
TIM: (Trying to think of a witty response but giving up.) Yes. (Tim farts.)
MICHELLE: Your ass needs to let me sleep. (Puts earplug back in.)
TIM: My ass does what it wants. It answers to no one.
MICHELLE: (Taking out earplug.) What?
TIM: (Louder.) I said, my ass answers to no one.
MICHELLE: It’s gonna answer to me if it doesn’t be quiet. (Pause.) Maybe this plug should go somewhere else. (Puts earplug in her ear.)
TIM: (To audience.) Someone please give us a sitcom, ‘cause we’re killing it here.
MICHELLE: (Taking out earplug.) What did you say?
Pause. Tim farts. No one speaks. Silence engulfs the cosmos.
George Clooney is getting married to Amal Alamuddin, a British human-rights lawyer. This is a very big deal, since not that many people get married. But to someone like me, who turned in his bachelor card long ago—after dating my own share of actresses, models, and professional wrestlers—tying the knot is old hat. So I thought I’d share some advice with my fellow man, the Cloonster, on how to get through to “I do.”
BACHELOR PARTY: GO EXTREME!
Rather than strippers or the clichéd Vegas trip, George, I recommend an extreme sports activity that your buds can bond over—like bowling at Chelsea Piers. That’s what me and my man-posse did, and we had a blast! Order some pitchers of Bud and chow down on chicken fingers while scoring your last strike as a free man. However, I suggest not scheduling your bachelor party in the afternoon, as there’s a good chance that a 13-year-old girl’s birthday bash will be taking place the next lane over—something your pals will rib you about for years to come. (Lots of screaming, balloons, and Silly String.) Or maybe an Ocean’s Eleven- or Syriana-themed party would be more your style. It’s your party…can’t wait to be there, Cloons!