The Illustrious Dalai HaHa of Comedy

The Dalai HaHa of Comedy

It was hardly a secret that my humor writing career had been in the crapper. I had very few readers, didn't get many blog comments, and the last time I'd gotten a "like" on Facebook it had been to a post about my recurrent genital herpes.  Clearly something drastic had to be done.

And that something drastic suddenly materialized right before my very eyes in a conversation with fellow humor blogger Monroe Firth.

Author of a blog entitled Firth's Frivolities, Monroe was often very funny but had failed to find a significant audience on line, much like me except for the being very funny part. Monroe called me to say he was about to be going away.

"Myrtle Beach?" I asked.  

"No, Perry, I go to seek the illustrious Dalai HaHa of Comedy."

"The Dalai HaHa of Comedy!" I repeated in an awestruck manner even though I had never of the Dalai HaHa of Comedy, but then again I had never heard of Taylor Kitsch either.

"The Dalai HaHa of Comedy," said Monroe "is the one and only Grand Master of the Comedic Arts. He knows the secret to Perfect Comedy, and he also validates parking."

"Where does he dwell?" I asked. "Perhaps we could meet him for lunch?"

"He dwells in a place shrouded in mystery, veiled in secrecy, and wedged somewhere between the sofa cushions."

"Then dinner maybe?"

Monroe explained that he possessed a secret map to the dwelling place of the Dalai HaHa of Comedy which he would bestow upon me for safe keeping. In order to make sure it remained strictly confidential, I posted it on Facebook with pictures of a bunch of kittens.  Meanwhile my writing continued to suck so badly that I was declared eligible for Federal disaster relief by FEMA. 

I decided finally to use the map to undertake my own personal quest for the illustrious Dalai HaHa of Comedy!

First I flew to Tibet and boy, were my arms tired!  (That joke alone ought to show you how badly I needed the Dalai HaHa.) Next I took a small commuter plane to the desolate and isolated town of Rudner at the foot of Mt. Ted McGinley, a tiny frigid outpost of 55 villagers whose favorite past times consisted of starving to death, carving ice sculptures in each other's breath, and ballroom dance. 

It was there I secured the services of the only guide willing to travel to the distant dwelling place of the Dalai HaHa of Comedy, a rough-hewn mountain man known as Shecky.

"Know this, my master," said Shecky, "that many seek the path to the Dalai HaHa, but only a few survive the journey. However, remember also that a journey of a thousand miles begins with just a few steps."

"That's reassuring, Shecky," I replied.  "How far do you think I'll get?"

"A step or two, give or take."

Shecky and I set out on dog sled traveling through blinding snowstorms with temperatures well below zero. At night we would keep ourselves warm by setting fire to each other and comfort ourselves with thoughts of a better life being torn apart by packs of crazed wolves. After weeks of arduous travel we arrived at the place shrouded in mystery, veiled in secrecy, and wedged somewhere between the sofa cushions.

"It is here I must leave you," said Shecky.

"You mean because it is only fitting I complete the pilgrimage to the Dalai HaHa of Comedy alone?"

"No, because I haven't gone to the bathroom in six weeks."

Before me lay a Golden Temple with huge intricately carved oaken doors.  That actually turned out to be Applebee’s, but next to it was a tiny hovel with a sign that read "The Dalai HaHa of Comedy -  Grand Master of the Comedic Arts. One Flight Up." 

I entered. 

A bearded gentleman in white robes sat on small divan.  Around him were fresh flowers and the aroma of sweet incense.

"Yes, my son," he said warmly.

"Oh, illustrious Dalai HaHa of Company:  Why are some comedians funny and others are Bob Saget? Who do you like better, Amy Shumer or Louis C.K.?; tell me why in 25 words or less and make sure at least 8 or 9 of them are dirty.  Will there be another season of Curb or can I drop HBO?  I never want to accidentally be subjected to 2 or 3 minutes of The Comeback ever again!

And finally, oh illustrious Dalai HaHa, I long to know....

"What is the Secret to Perfect Comedy?"

The illustrious Dalai HaHa of Comedy closed his eyes and began chanting in some strange tongue unknown to me. I think it was his own tongue, which makes sense. After what seemed to be at least six or seven hours, he opened his eyes and stared straight at me as if he'd known me all his life.  Then he spoke.  

"Pie, my son."

"Excuse me?"

"Pie.  As in the Three Stooges."

"Pie is the Secret to Perfect Comedy?"

"The Stooges, watch them carefully.  Especially Larry."

"Pie?!  Four thousand miles for pie?!!"

"Pie."

"That's it?!!"

"Not quite, my son.  In time you may be ready for seltzer." 

"Tell me, oh illustrious  Dalai HaHa of Comedy, is "pie" the same advice you imparted to another who made the quest here to the place shrouded in mystery, veiled in secrecy, and wedged somewhere between the sofa cushions, a man named Monroe Firth?

"Monroe Firth?"

"Yes, Dalai HaHa of Comedy."

"Monroe Firth did not ever arrive." 

"Didn't arrive!  My God!  Do you know what happened to him?"

"He texted me something about Myrtle Beach."

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Whither Thou Bloggest

Whither Thou Bloggest is a quote I found myself ruminating upon the other day. It's derived from the Old Testament - the Book of Ruth  - and it means literally:

"What am I going to do with
 my suck ass blog?" 

I've been writing this blog almost six years and it continues to be as popular as the slides of your 1964 family vacation to Freedomland USA. I began musing on Facebook that very day as to possible ways to pump up the blog, improve my readership, and get ya to love me!  

Here's a few ideas so far:

1) Add a Frozen sing-a-long to every post.

2) Develop a story arc where I become Professor of Quantum Physics at MIT and do significant research in Vector Analysis. Merriment ensues.

3) More dick jokes.

4) Make the character an insecure Jewish Baby boomer. Oh, wait, that's the shitty premise we're trying to fix.

5) Add special features commentary by director Wes Anderson. 

6) Include Bloopers and Out-takes, especially when I flub use of the pluperfect  subjunctive. LOL!

7) Don't be so Jewish!

8) Instead of a Baby Boomer, I will now be a barefoot freckle-faced boy growin' up along the Mississippi with his best ol' friend Jim (Note: Check copyright availability.)

9) Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Liza Minnelli!

10) A quick 'n easy dinner recipe in every post.

11) All Flash Fiction will now only be about The Flash.

12) No more fantasizing about hot women. From now on, it's moonlight and Sean Hannity!

11) Adopt warm-hearted "From Our House to Your House" sensibility.

12) Close each post by digging into a large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Bon Appetit!  

13) Make the character a blond Nordic gentile with self-confidence. You think that's a stretch?  

14) Somewhere in this blog, boys and girls, I've hidden an afikomen! 

15) I marry a woman with a big brood of children, and we follow their sassy adventures!

16) Bake each new fan a chocolate cake. But I won't have time to ice them.

17) I juggle flaming stuff.

18) More car crashes.

19) Ginger and Mary Ann cat fight over me. 

20) Occasional cameos by Mr. Bill Murray!

21) Always leave 'em with the old soft shoe.

22) Sure, everybody loves 17th Century English drama, but if I read one more Beaumont and Fletcher joke....

23) Dick joke translations into the Greek exclusively by James Franco.

24) Develop line of "Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute" cutlery and and transform blog into 24/7 infomercial featuring Tom Bergeron.  

25) Plumb the depths of human experience and illuminate the angst at the base of the soul. That'll reel in the suckers!

26) Add a catchy jingle. "Here's a story about a man named Perry ..."

27) Larry King? You're here? You'll do anything to stay active, won't you?  

28) I go undercover at Scientology Headquarters and produce a hard-hitting series of posts which prove conclusively and beyond a shadow of a doubt that they ain't bothering nobody.

29)  Add super hot women characters who have just overdosed on female Viagra. Explore endless ways in which they tell Perry "no, we're just not in the mood right now."

30) My secret identity as Batman is at last revealed! True,  my crime fighting career is over, but maybe now you'll pay attention to the dick jokes?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, do you have any other thoughts?  All are welcome as I am as desperate for a blog concept as Republican Presidential candidates are for a credible idea.

Oh, and one more thing.  

Any of you know Liza Minnelli?

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Notes on a 400th Post

I still can't believe it!

This is the 400th post of  Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute.

It seems like only four years and 400 posts ago that I began this blog.  Back then never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that one day I'd have written 400 posts and would be just as obscure and unsuccessful as I was right at the beginning!

And yet somehow it all came true.

There are so many people to thank.  First, I have to thank all my fans from the bottom of my heart!  There aren't that many fans at the top of my heart either.

Then I want to thank my high school English teacher Miss Schoendeinst for having had zero interest in me or positive influence upon me such that I am today unable to scribble even the most rudimentary sentence of the most microscopic interest or amusement whatsoever.

Thank you, Miss Schoendeinst!

Finally I'd like to thank my gene pool for providing me virtually no discernible sense of humor such that each and every unfunny post  in this blog has been about as entertaining as spending an evening with Carson Daly.  And I have managed this while being Jewish, despite the fact that most Jewish people are funny! 

As is my custom on anniversary posts (I've now done it twice),  I'd like to answer a few questions that have no doubt been burning in your minds. OMG, your minds are on fire!   I told you to give up smoking nine posts ago!

How did this blog begin?
Actually I was looking for a job in human resources and thought I'd go on Twitter as the funny human resources person. I soon found that image limiting and broadened my humor, which ultimately led to the blog. 

That answer was unfunny.
Odd.  I worked on that one a long time.

The central theme of your blog is the aging angst of the typical Boomer. What do you actually think about the aging process?  
It's the one process for which nobody is ever going to win a Nobel Prize by figuring out how to speed it up.

Do you prefer writing the posts about yourself or the other parodies and satires? 
I can't stand writing them all just the same.

Is the flawed, insecure, and neurotic character you write about actually you?
Flatterer!

You use a picture on your blog that's obviously not current. How old is it anyway? 
My picture is nearly ten years old.  If it were a person, it would be masturbating by now. 

Why don't you change it? 
 The day it begins aging instead of me is the day I'll change it.

Why on this night do we eat reclining?
Don't be cute.

You write about how old and terrible you look.  Don't you ever look good?
I look best in a low light.  If you saw me in a graveyard at midnight, then you'd probably want to have sex with me. 

What are some of the advantages of having fewer fans than there are bi-partisan Republicans?
The one major advantage is that I am able to carefully hone and craft my humor writing without the disruptive intrusion of readers.

What's ahead for the blog?
Oh, there are many surprises ahead!  I have no ideas so I expect to be surprised.

Well, we'll be reading!
You have to. You're me.

And for those of you do read Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute who don't have to, thank you! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

400

Notes on a 300th Post

Who would have ever thought when I began this blog slightly over three years ago with the words "being I have nothing constructive to do and perhaps I can attract the attention of Paris Hilton" I would one day reach the lofty and venerable milestone of 300 posts without ever having written anything lofty or venerable or attracted the attention of Paris Hilton?

You did?  Well then, proud of you, dude!  I've got a damn perceptive reader in you!

This is the glorious celebration of my 300th blog post! Welcome, come on in and make yourself at home.  Take your shoes off and  .... UCCCCHHH!!!, on second thought,  why don't you put your shoes back on and have some punch instead?

Have you met some of my other readers? Let me introduce you to ... well, there's umm ... say, why don't you have some punch?  I'm sure all the other readers will be arriving soon; I understand there's a tie-up on the Expressway,  a big book review over at Goodreads, and the new Pope is in one hell of a Twitter war with the old one!  

While we're waiting,  as is a tradition on my anniversary posts (I did it once),  I'd like to answer a few questions that are often raised regarding my blog, primarily by me: 

How would you describe your humor writing, Perry? 

Unsuccessful.

No, I mean, is it droll commentary on the foibles of humanity, mordant satire on the sorry state of politics, pop culture, and world affairs, or self-deprecating but affectionate takes on the day-to-day travails each of us face in our efforts to negotiate the post-absurdist world in which we live?

Let's go with "Unsuccessful."

Why do you suppose the blog is still so unpopular?

Because people like you don't talk me up to others.

But I'm not a person;  I'm a composite construct created by you to ask a bunch of inane questions. 

And you're an uppity composite construct too!  Now I know how Dr. Frankenstein  felt.

But you made up all the questions!

Yeah, remind me next time to make up ones where I get some laughs.

Do you think maybe your writing is too Jewish?

Too Jewish? How?  I'm a Pentecostalist.

Well then I'd definitely cut back on my watching The Daily Show if I were you. 

Such a funny composite construct you are!   

Even that phrasing was too Jewish!

Maybe I ought to have you write the posts. 

You could do worse ... 

Okay, big shot, here's the keys to the blog, get yourself some punch, I'm outta here!

At last.  

I'll be over at Facebook if you need me. 

I don't expect to. 

 And hey you, our one reader,
 Put your damn shoes back on! 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Despite what my little composite construct says above, I'd sincerely like to thank all of you who from time to time read this blog, including the guy without shoes guzzling the punch.  I very much appreciate your support,  and I'll try to do a halfway decent job with the next hundred posts so!   Thanks again! 

300

No Frills? No More! Part II

Look up in the sky!  It's a bird, it's a plane, its .... 

As will come of no surprise to many of you, there is no such thing as "many of you." That's because my blog Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute (NOFC) continues to have all the popularity of a firmly hooked brassiere during spring break. 

Frankly, if you took all the fans of NOFC and laid them end to end, I'd have just lost those few fans I have because you had to take them and lay them end to end!   So don't do it, schmuck! 

Several months ago I decided to spruce up the appearance of my blog in the hopes that cuter looks would better lure readers to the land of the formerly cute. I began to experiment with the shape, format, and colors of the blog site itself, but the results proved disappointing.  In the all-important demographic of "Those Breathing," NOFC's ratings were recorded at a point/share ratio of 0/.0107, indicating that the only people tuned in were those being subjected to political torture in foreign countries.

Next, I looked at the verbiage in my blog header to see if it could perhaps be punched up a bit:

Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute

Celebrating Infrastructure! Yes, this blog is dedicated to those organizational underpinnings and foundations upon which real estate development may be judiciously analyzed and calibrated. We  HEART! water supply, sewer systems, storm runoff plans, septic tanks, and the myriad zoning regulations, ordinances, and variances that inexorably and forever inhere and appertain thereto!" 

Nope, no problem there.

Turning my attention to the appearance of the header, I wondered if the words alone --- scintillating though they were --- failed to reach full potential without pictures or graphics.  So I experimented further with a variety of visuals.

I tried Art.

Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute

But I simply couldn't get The Scream to stop screaming for hours afterward.

I tried Great Historical Figures. 

Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute

But Dolores Kearns Goodwin nixed this, concerned that the implication that Abraham Lincoln would ever have associated with me would so diminish his reputation they'd re-award credit for ending slavery to the guy standing closest to him in 1863.

I tried a combination of Art and History.

Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute

At first this header proved truly inspirational, but my continuously coming on to Liberty while she was trying to lead the People finally forced the People to hire former Philadelphia Eagles Coach Andy Reid to lead them in her place.

I clearly needed help, so I reached out and found a talented artist and cartoonist in the Philadelphia area named Matt Andrews.  I explained the Baby Boomer concept of the blog to Matt and asked if he could design a cartoon version of me -- a doppelganger, if you will, only this time with black sketch lines outlining my entire body. In real life, of course my body is outlined in purple.

"I'd love to try!" said Matt. "Can you send me a more recent picture of yourself than your avatar?"

"Umm, what makes you think my avatar is not current?"

"The reference to Matthew Brady in the lower left hand corner."

The first few drafts by Matt were not exactly what I had in mind, his comprehension of a Baby Boomer perhaps a wee bit skewed. But over time, he developed the near perfect header for this very imperfect blog.  And in a couple of weeks, the final drawings were completed and officially installed on Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute at a formal stained tie ginger ale reception.     

             

And now please, everyone, Look up in the sky! Or at least to the top of this blog. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's ... 

It's the new Cartoon Me!  I'm in typical pose under attack by the demon calendar trying to drag me into the days of my dotage while I battle tooth (those that I have left) and nail to return to the days of my youth. But no matter how it all comes out, thank you, Matt Andrews!  

That is, for minimizing my nose.

Has Cartoon Me and the new blog header made any difference?  Nah, NOFC still has all the popularity of a firmly-hooked brassiere on Mindy from Scarsdale during the last day of spring break.   But at least things may be looking up for Cartoon Me.

Lately The Scream's been coming on to him. 

Can Liberty Leading the People be far behind?

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time in a lovely green valley by a lake --- where the price for buildable lots was so high you could never hope to afford one --- there stood a charming cottage in which Blog, a young bunny,  and Mother and Father Bunny lived. 

Blog was generally a happy little bunny except for one thing --- he was ashamed of his ugly sounding name.

“Why do I have a horrible name like Blog?” he asked Mother and Father Bunny.

“It was supposed to be Bob,” explained Mother Bunny, “but Dad burped when he said the name to the Register of Bunny Names and unfortunately the clerk wrote down “Blog.”

Now there was a law in the land where Blog and Mother and Father Bunny lived that forbade bunnies from changing their names.

It was called the “Jennifer and Jason Act,” passed by a group of bunnies born in the 70’s who were afraid their really cool names might be yanked away and they’d be saddled with annoying 90’s names like Max, Zachery, and Carlotta.

Despite sadness over his horrible name, Blog was always happy when Mother Bunny read to him at bedtime. He especially loved two books: “The Little Engine that Gave Up and went for a Beer” and “Twitter Sticks it to Margaret Wise Brown.”

Mother Bunny read these two books to him over and over. She would have read them to him under and under, as well as in between and in between, if only those two idiotic statements made any sense.

Of the two, Blog especially adored “Twitter Sticks it to Margaret Wise Brown.”

It taught a wonderful lesson about bitterness, acrimony, and revenge, and had pop-up pictures too! It told the tale of Twitter, a beautiful young bunny with a lovely smile and pretty blue eyes, who was cast as the ingénue in an upcoming warm-hearted children’s book “The Runaway Bunny” by Margaret Wise Brown.

Twitter was brutally fired by Margaret Wise Brown, who thereupon replaced her with some no-talent male bunny she was rumored to be sleeping with. The meanest children’s author this side of Eric Carle, Ms. Brown was known on the set of an earlier book, “Goodnight Moon,” to make the Bowl of Mush cry.

Twitter was undaunted. She began networking on LinkedIn and made history by becoming the first person ever to make successful use of LinkedIn’s moronic Endorsements feature.

Before long, she attracted the attention of a children’s book author named Perry Block.

Their collaboration led to “Twitter Sticks it to Margaret Wise Brown,” which quickly went viral after being selected for Oprah’s Book Club. It vastly outsold “The Runaway Bunny,” the first edition of which included an ill-advised chapter showing a scantily-clad Margaret Wise Brown and the no-talent Bunny vacationing in Majorca.

How Blog admired Twitter! 

“And what a beautiful name!” Blog thought. “How could anybody ever say that you could waste time with Twitter?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a few years, little Blog grew tall and came of age.

One day he announced to Mother and Father Bunny that he was going out into the world to seek his fortune.

“I would like to meet Twitter before I begin,” said Blog. “I googled her and I know where I may find her.”

“By the way even ‘Google’ would have been a better name for me.”

The next day, Blog bid Mother and Father Bunny farewell and set off on his journey, making his way out of the lovely green valley by a lake --- where the price for buildable lots was so high you could never hope to afford one --- and where there stood the charming cottage in which he, Blog, a young bunny, and Mother and Father Bunny lived.

In a few days Blog arrived at the address he had googled for Twitter.

“But what is this?” exclaimed Blog!

The sign in front of the address said:

Hoppity’s House of Hotties!

Blog entered.

Red flocked wallpaper. A fat pig with a cigar playing an upright piano. Steve Buscemi!

Blog realized he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

“Where … where can I find Ms. Twitter?” Blog stammered to a large animate rubber ball standing just inside the door, who was in fact ‘the Bouncer.’

“She’s in the back, Mac!” said the Bouncer.   He was also a poet.

Blog made his way to the back of the building. Through a half open door he saw a wan, pale, painfully thin young bunny he recognized as Twitter, his hero.

“Ms. Twitter,” Blog called hoarsely, “Ms. Twitter...”

Twitter turned and gave a half-smile. “Yes, do I know you?” she said.

“Ms. Twitter, I’ve been a huge fan of “Twitter Sticks it to Margaret Wise Brown” ever since I was a small bunny. You are my role model!”

Oh, sure!" sighed Twitter. "I’m a role model like Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott in the movie ‘Role Models,’ also starring Jane Lynch. I’m sorry to disappoint you. Hope you haven’t traveled far.”

 “May I ask what happened?”

“My life was once wonderful, just as in my book. I was hanging with Oprah and Gayle, signed to do big budget book with Curious George, Rowling’s people were at the doorstep! Then it happened.”

“What happened?”

“The older man who wrote the book, Perry Block, turned on me! He stole all the money, saw to it that I got nothing, and began spreading vicious lies that I … that I was doing it like a bunny!”

Twitter broke off in loud sobs!

(Author’s Note: The above allegations are the subject of litigation and are unproven. And I am NOT an older man!)

"Imagine," sobbed Twitter, "me, doing it like a bunny!  I don't even get poked on Facebook."

“So you had no options,” Blog said quietly.

"I had to eat,” said Twitter, “but I couldn’t even get a walk-on in a Captain Underpants book!”

Just then, a loud voice bellowed from outside the dressing room

 “Twitter doll, time to give the customers some yum-yum!”

 Blog saw the look of terror in Twitter’s still beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I have to go on now …”

“Twitter,” said Blog, “this might seem crazy, but I have an idea. I’m going out into the world to seek my fortune. Why don’t you come with me?”

Twitter looked as if she’d been struck by an anvil from a Warner Brothers cartoon! In fact, since this is a children's story, she was struck by an anvil from a Warner Brothers cartoon.

 “Why … why would you do that for me?”

“I know you don’t really know me, but I've known you all my life.”

“I think I trust you, but …”

“Twitter, I would never!” said Blog. “I don’t even have HBO.”

“If you’re sure I won’t be a burden.”

Blog couldn’t believe his ears!

Yes, they were long, furry, and stood straight up from the top of his head, but he should have been used to that by now!

Twitter got ready to go, and she and Blog were soon outside and on the road. Where they were headed, neither of them yet knew.

 But somehow it didn’t matter.

“You know,” said Twitter, “I don’t even know your name.”

Oh no! What if Twitter thought his name was stupid?

What if she thought his name sounded like “Bob” if you burped when you said it?

What if she no longer wanted to go?

“My name’s Blog,” he muttered nervously.

“Blog,” said Twitter.

Twitter repeated it again. “Blog,” she said slowly and thoughtfully.

“I think that’s a very nice name.”

“You think that?!” sputtered Blog, amazed. “Why?”

“Because it’s the name of someone who cares.”

For the first time in his life, Blog was no longer ashamed of his name.

Actually, he was kind of proud of it!

And in that very moment, Blog felt like a million bucks --- which would have been many times over what you’d need to buy a buildable lot in that lovely green valley, by a lake, where there stood the charming cottage in which he, Blog, a young bunny, had once lived. 

The End 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With apologies to Eric Carle and to the memory of Margaret Wise Brown, both of both I’m sure were and are very nice. 

And very gracious thanks to Mooshe Nickerson for her terrific original illustrations that accompany this story.