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.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Wolfteam.

Do some things for me, please?

Develop a criminal code. It is true that Fundamental Constabulary does not have ex post facto laws. We do, however, prosecute violations of select United States laws that were already on the books, whatever executive "assurances" or waivers issued at the time notwithstanding. No president or attorney general has the ability to waive laws. Lawbreakers should have known that. Therefore, they are liable to be prosecuted by Fundamental Constabulary for those transgressions. War crimes and torture fall into this category.

Figure out some means of appropriating United States prison beds for incarcerating convicted felons. Fundamental Constabulary does not have its own holding facilities. Hack the legal system as necessary.

Legally notify all members of Congress, the president, all cognizant courts, and the attorney general, as well as all state governments of the operation of Fundamental Constabulary. Detail the authority by which Fundamental Constabulary operates. Inform them that obstruction of justice is a crime.

Once you've sung the Conjunction Junction song for my private prosecutor, explain to him how this is all perfectly lawful. It's not a drug running case or a poop.

Pencil me in for some sort of a medal of honor that I can jangle in the faces of the local high-class nobodies in this tony little town as they look down their noses at me like I'm some kind of a loser when I walk the three miles to my house painting gig.

Type up some law forms and say law words to get me off probation as quickly as possible. Placing myself squarely in the middle of that most rational of branches was useful to me, but now I've got bigger fish to fry. Explain to the court that I'm a swell guy, that I'm the most highly investigated and most highly vetted person ever to set foot in that courtroom, that I'm busy catchin' the terriss and restoring lawful government and everything, that I'm a national treasure, and that if anyone questions the wisdom of just letting me off, well, my private investigative staff and my Secret Service staff can always attest to my whereabouts and my activities.

Also please inform the court that I have zero intention of paying that hundred-dollar special assessment. Considering lost wages while forgoing real employment that would have distracted me from my life's work, lost stock options, lost houses and lost nest eggs, plus miscellaneous expenses incurred while my delightful audience simply refused to buy their tickets to a show that is most definitely not free, I calculate that I have spent one million, four hundred thirty thousand dollars catchin' the bad men while our professionals on the payroll gorged themselves on braised beef tips at the office canteen and patted their fat bellies. So with everyone's consent, I will credit United States the sum of $100 toward what that malfunctioning mess owes me. (Everyone gets their fair share in my theater, Judge. You have it under esteemed advisement that it's best just to take your lumps and roll with it.)

Thank you.