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.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

I've got it all figgered out, Wolfteam.

There was a time when United States wasn't a pure piece of trash. For old times' sake, I say we try to rehabilitate that heap of garbage.

We know that United States loses any legal contest with USov. (During one of the hearings for my splendid little crime, all the prosecution could do was go on and on endlessly about my non-bizarre delusions about having my own principality called United Sovereigns of America. Since the topic of jurisdiction is more complicated than a poop, it was lost on the Justice Department that when governments collapse, their sovereignty devolves back whence it came. It's Law 101. Apparently the adult supervision in Washington informed them of this. The Justice Department isn't laughing anymore.)

So anyway, this is what we do. We assign some wizened old bastards from the ranks of United States law enforcement officers to work with USov. It's a temporary assignment. They've got special badges. They've got guns.

Then we show up at the offices of the FBI and kick in the door. "We're here from United Sovereigns of America. We need some files."

And the useless government employee on duty says,  "You can't just barge in here. We have protocol and everything. I didn't get the proper paperwork."

"We need files on 9-11 crimes."

"I'm busy right now. I'm catching the terriss. As you can see, I'm reviewing critical terrism evidence that helps me protect you. Here, for example, is a video of you fucking your wife. And over here is a spectrographic analysis of what your asshole smells like. If I don't complete my task I might get in trouble. And you'll be less safe. You want to be safe, don't you?"

"Give us the files on Rabbi Zakheim and Larry Silverstein and the five dancing Israelis and Urban Moving Systems and that little skeeve Michael Chertoff and whatever other members of the universe's most excellent humanoid species who might have thought it a bright idea to fly drones into the Twin Towers and cook up three thousand people."

"No way. I heard on TV that people like you just want to make lampshades out of the poor downtrodden. That's kooky. I'm calling security."

"We are security. And what's kooky here is that this idiot jurisdiction is one inch from getting wiped and useless government employees executed."

"Well why didn't you say so? The files are right over there, second drawer from the top. ...Can I still have my pension? I'm being good, right?"

"Yes, if all goes well you can have a pension. Just stay out of the way. Do something useful."

"Like what? That's new for me."

"I see you've got these gay-ass colored paperclips mixed in with the regular steel paperclips. Why can't you use regular paperclips like everyone else?"

"I'm hoping it gets me a promotion. You know, sets me apart. ...I have an idea: Why don't I sort these paperclips? That's what I can do to save the day while USov catches the bad men."

Do you see how conceptually simple it is to erect a tribunal under the aegis of USov, seize evidence, and carry out prosecutions? If United States balks, we just kill it.

Come up with the paperwork, please.

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