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.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Now remember, Leahy. My "probation" is over in two weeks.

Guess what else is over? The touch pee-pee game.

It's been a fun eight years, hasn't it? (For any who do not know, I've been watching that collapsed heap of garbage in Washington investigate me since 2005, when I was first accorded airport security selectee status, as evidenced by the 'SSSS' on my boarding pass, this despite my never having done anything in my entire life that would warrant such a designation, with the exception perhaps of calling the Attorney General 'Filthy Shit Eater Alberto Gonzales' and George Bush the 'Fag in Chief.' I was just kidding, but apparently I struck a nerve. But in any event, I knew that I got in. My show had been rebroadcast.)

Senator, I don't think anyone here would maintain that the United States would be capable of investigating anyone. It's no wonder we can't catch the bad men.

On the upside, I still qualify for my Top Secret SCI security clearance. I am the most thoroughly investigated, most highly vetted person you will ever meet. Guaranteed. And if you relish your solitude as I do and simply do not wish to be interviewed by law enforcement, always be sure to cultivate at least one federal investigation. You'll never be bothered as our nation's finest clomp around on tiptoes. You'll be able to work in peace.

Senator, I would ask that you type up some law words and wave your magic wand. I want those idiot FISA courts in Washington to disgorge me like the unsavory meal that I am.

It's a bit silly, isn't it? Geniuses in their Saturnian robes, pontificating upon all things completely irrelevant, not remotely approaching a level of competence necessary to the catching of the bad men? They are an insult to their own ancient guild.

On August 7th, I want a ten-dollar bouquet of flowers placed at the foot of my skid road of a driveway. (Do not approach my home.) This will signify to me and to all who witness these presents that the age of idiocy in this nation is over, and that that embarrassing piece of trash styling itself a jurisdiction is no longer deserving of perfect contempt.

It will also signify that I can contact friends and prospective employers and prospective pieces of ass without having that lump of dog shit immediately run a criminal background check on them.

'Kay? 'Kay.

Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.

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