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, November 13, 2013

In the unlikely event that anyone is following me on Twitter or attempting to communicate with me by that means, you should know that I do not check my various accounts.

And I have several. I recall that I have used @ckpi, @ckpi1, @UpWithTerror, @SmellyOlTerris, @ImInChargeNow, and @USS_Armageddon.

They serve their various artistic purposes.

There is only one means of communicating with a professional comedian who is engaged in a professional undertaking, and that is to buy your ticket.

I play some pretty big rooms in Vegas. I need to participate in conversations with imaginary friends like I need a shotgun blast to the face.

So if anyone perchance had been attempting to engage me in a dialogue --which, judging by my professional radioactivity, is highly unlikely-- you should know that I'm not ignoring you. I'm just off doing more productive things like earning a living, which is what the business plan chapter in the textbook says I should be achieving right now, what with --oh, I don't know-- having meticulously assembled my audience of choice, which includes a who's who in the fields of politics, news, and entertainment.

This isn't 1975. My success is not to be judged by what TV show I'm on. That I have not been tapped to play a sidekick on someone else's show in no way absolves you of your moral obligation to feed the man who has re-arranged his life over an entire decade and who invested every last nickel he had so that he could mount the very show you now attend.

I have a show. It's ten years in the making. I have an audience. It's ten years in the assembling.

I fully expect my audience to buy their tickets. This is not a free show. Cock your heads and try to conceptualize what the future looks like. It's a guy with a microphone on the Internet, wrangling his target audience into their seats.

Stand-up is poor man's show business. I need us all to prove that this business model can work.

Send $100 to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146. That is the only means of registering your desire to be my friend. You owe me a hundred bucks for every year that you've attended my show since 2007, the year I first started charging for tickets.

Buy your ticket or get out of my show. Contrary to what you may believe inside your mind, speaking to you is not its own reward.

Imaginary friends don't let friends starve to death for a lack of his due ticket receipts.

I'm getting extremely pissed off at you people, and that is affecting my work.

There will come a time when I simply get tired of investing good effort after bad, and I will pack up my stuff and leave without so much as a goodbye, NEVER to return. I'll be on to something new.

Guaranteed.

Buy your tickets, losers.

I'll be back in a month or two.

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