My Video Intro

What follow are to be considered transcriptions of spoken word pieces that I would have delivered in a physical theater. You will also find video and audio pieces here.

This show has been roughed out years in advance, and material delivered as its time approached. There is an arc to this show. For that reason, posts --that is, pieces-- should be read in order, from older to newer. So if you've been absent for a bit, scroll all the way down and read upward.

Please remember that this is not a free show. This is the professional undertaking of a professional comedian who bet the farm on making this a going concern. Just because it is possible to steal my property does not mean that you may. If you go to the farmer's market and the man is away from his table, you are nonetheless obligated to put your money into the shoebox labeled "Put money here." My personal friends are exempted from buying their tickets, as well as those who may not be able to afford to buy a ticket. Everyone else is morally and legally obligated to buy a ticket if they partake of even, say, a dozen pieces of mine per year. Duck outside my theater for a cigarette as often as you like, but you didn't get in here in the first place without buying your ticket at the box office. The cost is $100 per person, per year. There is no law enforcement discount. There is no news media discount. No one gets a discount, unless you honestly don't have the money. (And to my law enforcement patrons: Even in Lenny Bruce's day, cops had to buy their tickets before they could get into his theater to jot their notes. Jot away, but if you are not here to arrest me or to shut the place down, then you are here covertly. If that is the case, then you are passing as ordinary patrons. If that is the case --and it is-- then you buy your tickets just like regular customers.)

Thank you for coming.

--Chris

Bitcoin Address: 1KtMQ32BoHqBAx4GFjLR1gLrBBp1BSnQs6

Or mail $100 to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146

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This is the product safety sticker that accompanies all my speech:

There was a Pratt and Whitney JT9D 7-series compressor recovered from Murray Street in New York on 9-11, the precise identification of which is detailed in the Capta Brightstick Document. That incompatible engine hardware precludes Flight 175's presence at the scene of the crime and indicts the jurisdiction known as United States as criminal. If you are a member of a grand jury or jury, or if you are a judge, and if this product safety sticker has been removed from whatever speech of mine may have been presented to you, it is because the prosecutor is pulling a fast one on you and doesn't want you to know that the federal government auto-executed itself in a grand ceremony for all to see. Please have a nice day.

Updated legalese, added 11/1/2012 on the occasion of realizing that every time I go to court, Madame Prosecutor is forever waving around my intellectual property contained herein, content to use my words against me without having the decency to buy her ticket to my show. Well, here's something you can wave around: "I, Christopher King, do hereby plead guilty to whatever it is that Madame Prosecutor may allege. I'm rotten to the core and I secretly make fun of the judge all the time. As a result, I --and here these are my words, the words of the prosecutor and not of Mister King-- I have luscious melon breasts and I think the judge is the worst thing ever to happen to the court. You hear me, judge? That's right. I, Madame Prosecutor, secretly hate you and I think your rulings blow. I would like the record to reflect that Mister King is well hung and I ache for his tender ministrations. I suck, the prosecutor's office sucks, the judge sucks, and Mister King is a national treasure despite his plainly stating that he is guilty of all allegations that may ever be made. He plainly confirms that he is a dangerous terrorist. There. Let the record try to sort out who is who in this statement."

http://youtu.be/rJDztqCG91g

"Ta da! Behold Assclown Jurisdiction United States!"

End of product safety sticker.

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Buy your ticket to my show!

Bitcoin Address: 1KtMQ32BoHqBAx4GFjLR1gLrBBp1BSnQs6

Or mail $100 to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

I like having Aspergers Syndrome.

I don't place much stock in the thoughts of the psychiatric establishment --if they had their way, even the smallest variation in natural human behavior would be pigeonholed and pathologized. Like when I do handyman work for my customers, I will point out how they need my assistance to fix that one rain gutter over there that they had perhaps not thought about. See, if you don't fix the leak in the rain gutter now, the dripping water will rot that piece of wood underneath it, which will lead to a more expensive fix later on.

It's called an up-sell. It goes on in every business, including the psychiatric business. Trust me, they're going to label everything in this world.

So if I must be pathologized by a society that simply insists on determining why I lazily point out the obvious, I suppose I'd prefer the label of Aspergers Syndrome. It's cute and cuddly.

I remember when I got hauled into court for threatening to make pastries for a president who simply refuses to buy a ticket to my show and who simply refuses to stop causing trouble for me, my prosecutorial staff immediately demanded that I be locked away in some psych ward to determine, precisely, which psychiatric defect causes me to correctly identify reality.

Thankfully the judge demurred. And in the past eighteen months, my psychiatric staff have been able to identify the underlying malfunction that causes me to speak the unvarnished truth: Aspergers Syndrome. That's fine. It'll do. It means you can think straight.

I recall once that a friend and I ran into a woman friend of his whom I had not yet met. He introduced us. I immediately had concern for her, and my eyes searched her face. She said, "Is there something wrong?" I said, "You look like you got beat up. Do you need help?"

That is simply not what you say to a woman, as my friend later told me during my "de-briefing" of that spectacularly disastrous social encounter. The woman was just having a bad day and she was puffy or something.

And when I meet people that I might like to date, I tend to accidentally scare them off. "I see photographs of people having sex all the time and I might like to try those things with you. But if I call you on the phone, my investigative staff will immediately run a criminal background check on you and will probably try to attach kook law to you. It makes dating difficult, but I think I'm worth it. I have a particular interest in information systems, law, and hyperdimensional physics. And my legal staff in Washington and I are reshaping the entire United States Government. It sounds kooky, I know, but my brain is wired to recognize linkages between things. It works out in the end, trust me."

Some married friends of mine had me over to watch that "Adam" movie with them. The wife said, "Chris, how did you get in this movie?"


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