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, August 19, 2013

Watch out for teenage lovers!

RIO DE JANEIRO, Aug 19 (Reuters) -The journalist who first published secrets leaked by fugitive former U.S. intelligence agency contractor Edward Snowden vowed on Monday to publish more documents and said Britain will be "sorry" for detaining his partner for nine hours.

British authorities used anti-terrorism laws on Sunday to detain David Miranda, partner of U.S. journalist Glenn Greenwald, as he passed through London's Heathrow airport.

...

Greenwald, a columnist for Britain's the Guardian newspaper who is based in Rio de Janeiro, said the detention was an attempt to intimidate him for publishing documents leaked by Snowden disclosing U.S. surveillance of global internet communications.

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"I will be far more aggressive in my reporting from now. I am going to publish many more documents. I am going to publish things on England too. I have many documents on England's spy system. I think they will be sorry for what they did," Greenwald, speaking in Portuguese, told reporters at Rio's airport where he met Miranda upon his return to Brazil.

Glenn Greenwald To Publish UK Secrets After Britain Detains Partner

I'm an old hand at this line of work by now.

Here is a tip: Do not ever threaten to release information. You'll get whacked. The proper thing to do is to whistle nonchalantly and then --Bam!-- release your information and then publicly defy anyone to whack you. See, if you then get whacked, it lends credibility to you, which lessens the likelihood of getting whacked. There is an entire "whacking calculus" that you need to get up to speed on. Ask your neighborhood comedian for tips.

Incidentally, why is it always the fags who have to sigh and go catch the bad men? In any line of work I've ever been a part of, the ballsiest were always the fags. Most intelligent? Fags. Most handsome? Fags. Smart-mouthed? Fags.

Piss-pants cowards, loud mouths, big talkers?

Straight guys.

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