Podcasts about Joan Rivers

Bestselling author Holly Smale goes head to head with Comedian and writer Cally Beaton in a War Of The Words.The authors chat to Joe Haddow about their latest books, imposter syndrome, living in the present and what Orca's can teach us about feminism.They also also share some great book recommendationsTHE BOOK OFF'East Of Eden' by John SteinbeckVS'The Beekeeper Of Aleppo' by Christy LefteriHere's more on our guest's books:'Namaste Motherfuckers' by Cally BeatonPart memoir, part stereotype-defying manifesto, Namaste Motherf*ckers is a funny, empowering, practical book that takes an irreverent look at the author's own story of radical midlife reinvention - taking her from meetings in the boardroom to becoming a stand-up comedian - thanks to a chance conversation with the late, great Joan Rivers encouraging her to make change happen.Sharing stories and experiences from her career, alongside lessons learned from the many celebrities and experts that have guested on her hit podcast of the same name, Cally challenges at every turn the age-old narrative that women become invisible when they cease to be fertile.It's also a book about defying the bullsh*t expectation that midlife women at best maintain (looks, career, relationships), at worst decline. With ambitious thinking and personal development takeouts from her time as a coach, Cally debunks many of the myths surrounding the female of the species and gives a fresh, funny and life-affirming look at what it means to be a middle-aged woman who is willing to take a chance, put herself out there and who is also willing to fail.'I Know How This Ends' by Holly SmaleMargot Wayward is in manically gleeful self-destruct mode. Following the implosion of a ten-year relationship, she's wilfully derailing her successful career, joyfully taking down men on dating apps, and living in total chaos.Until one day, when Margot has a vision of herself with a man she's never met before. She doesn't believe in fate. But when Margot meets single-dad Henry, the vision comes true: exactly as she'd foreseen it.As her future continues to reveal itself, a glimpse at a time, Margot realises she knows exactly what's going to happen, and when. And there's nothing she can do to change any of it.So Margot has to decide how to live, how to love again, and how to be herself… Because if you can't change your destiny, how on earth do you live your present? Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Johnny Mac reports from the New Faces event in Montreal, highlighting performances from various comedians including Alistair Ogden, Maggie Crane, and Bruce Gray. The episode also discusses festival happenings, including upcoming shows and the usual bustling atmosphere in Montreal. Significant awards and presentations are mentioned, featuring Ryan Reynolds, Roy Wood Jr., and rising stars like Hannah Burner and Kat Cohen. Additionally, John reviews a BET article critiquing Variety's lack of diversity in comedy, and shares updates on new projects including a Joan Rivers documentary and the controversial release of 'Happy Gilmore 2.' 00:12 New Faces Comedy Show Recap05:12 Festival Atmosphere and Personal Observations06:07 Comedy Awards and Notable Mentions06:52 Comedy News Highlights07:54 Tonight's Comedy Lineup09:25 BET's Reaction to Variety's List12:51 Happy Gilmore 2 Sponsorship Deal13:42 Steph Tolev's Comedy Insights14:50 Roy Wood Jr.'s Encounter with Willie Brown15:24 Joan Rivers Documentary AnnouncementGet the show without ads. Five bucks.  For Apple users, hit the banner on your Apple podcasts app which says UNINTERRUPTED LISTENING. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.com/plus.    Contact John at john@thesharkdeck dot com  John's free substack about the media:  Media Thoughts  is mcdpod.substack.com Also follow the companion piece  dailycomedynews.substack.com DCN on Threads: https://www.threads.net/@dailycomedynews https://linktr.ee/dailycomedynews You can also support the show at www.buymeacoffee.com/dailycomedynews Thanks to our sponsor  https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Happiness-Experiment/Carl-B-Barney/9798886452891   Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/daily-comedy-news--4522158/support.

Daytime Emmy winner and TV legend, producer Amy Rosenblum, joins us. Hear about Amy's fascinating career and the A-listers she worked with. How did Amy score a major scoop for Dan Rather and mine ratings gold for her best friend, Joan Rivers, and Sally Jessie Raphael? Amy was the force behind the Maury Povich show, and she was the visionary matchmaker who paired Hoda Kotb and Kathie Lee Gifford. You won't want to miss this fascinating episode!Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/crazy-rich-neighbors--5053120/support.

This week we're Spilling the Tea on midlife rebranding — and joining us is the amazing Cally Beaton!She's a former TV executive turned stand-up comedian, writer, speaker, podcaster (you may know her from Namaste Motherfckers*), and now author of the brilliant new book of the same name.In this empowering, hilarious episode, Cally shares her bold pivot from boardrooms to comedy clubs, sparked by an unexpected conversation with Joan Rivers. Her book — part memoir, part manifesto — is a no-BS guide to reinvention in midlife, identity, creativity, ageing, and the messy magic of showing up as your full self.We chat about feminism, failure, purpose, power and (of course) meet Jeff the dog

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

In Episode 376 of Airey Bros Radio, we're joined by Brad Upton, a former high school teacher and track & field coach who's been grinding the stand-up comedy circuit for over 35 years. Brad shares the steady evolution of his career—from coaching sprinters and teaching high school, to opening for Joan Rivers and Jeff Foxworthy, to finding unexpected viral success online in his 60s with more than 250 million views. This isn't a story about overnight fame—it's about doing the work, sticking around, and letting your voice find its audience.

Ed Driscoll is joining me for the second time on StoryBeat. Ed's an Emmy Award-winning comedian, writer and producer who's worked with some of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry including: Billy Crystal, Joan Rivers, Michael Bublé, and Dennis Miller to name just a few! Ed's produced material for variety shows, sitcoms, movies, and live theater. And he's been a stand-up comedian for over 25 years. Ed's authored five critically acclaimed books: Spilled Gravy, Looking To Click, Laugh, Dammit!, Unmoved Chess Pieces, and Cracking Up.  I recently read Cracking Up and can tell you it's a laugh out loud compendium of stories from Ed's highly memorable show biz career. If you like hilarious real-life Hollywood stories, I highly recommend Cracking Up to you.https://www.eddriscollcomedy.comhttps://twitter.com/theeddriscoll https://www.facebook.com/theeddriscollhttps://instagram.com/theeddriscoll

Comic, writer and LEGEND Carol Leifer (Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Hacks) is here to talk about her new book, How To Write a Funny Speech... for a Wedding, Bar Mitzvah, Graduation & Every Other Event You Didn't Want to Go to in the First Place. We also discuss her love of TMZ, the book as public service, getting into comedy, misconceptions, those maniacs who put a half empty can of soda back in the refrigerator, Joan Rivers, snacks and food and so much more. Plus we did a round of Just Me Or Everyone and Podcast Pals Product Picks. Get yourself some new ARIYNBF merch here: https://alison-rosen-shop.fourthwall.com/ Subscribe to my Substack: http://alisonrosen.substack.com Podcast Palz Product Picks: https://www.amazon.com/shop/alisonrosen/list/2CS1QRYTRP6ER?ref_=cm_sw_r_cp_ud_aipsflist_aipsfalisonrosen_0K0AJFYP84PF1Z61QW2H Products I Use/Recommend/Love: http://amazon.com/shop/alisonrosen Check us out on Patreon: http://patreon.com/alisonrosen   Buy Alison's Fifth Anniversary Edition Book (with new material): Tropical Attire Encouraged (and Other Phrases That Scare Me) https://amzn.to/2JuOqcd You probably need to buy the HGFY ringtone! https://www.alisonrosen.com/store/ Try Amazon Prime Free 30 Day Trial

In this episode of Big Conversations, Little Bar, Patrick Evans and Randy Florence welcome Andrea Carter, a Coachella Valley marketing and PR powerhouse with a fascinating life story. Andrea shares insider tales from coordinating A-list celebrities at the Palm Springs International Film Festival to co-founding the record-breaking Warburton Celebrity Golf Tournament for St. Jude. She reflects on her small-town Minnesota roots, her unexpected reunion with her biological family, and her journey in local philanthropy. From singing with Patrick Evans to managing Joan Rivers and Mariah Carey's memorable appearances, Andrea offers a heartfelt, hilarious, and deeply human look at a life well-lived behind the spotlight. Don't miss this candid conversation at the corner booth of Skip Paige's Little Bar. Presented by the McCallum Theatre.Listen or View this episode now from BigConversationsLittleBar.com or subscribe for free and download from any of our podcast portal partners.Takeaways:Andrea helped grow the Warburton into St. Jude's top U.S. fundraiser, raising $35+ million.The event's formula: big-name celebrities, unique music shows, and community passion.Not all celebrity guests go smoothly—Cheech & Chong's appearance was infamously “crude.”Her PR career included handling Joan Rivers, Mariah Carey, Jamie Foxx, and more.Grew up in a town of 500 in Minnesota with only 26 kids in her graduating class.Was adopted, later reunited with birth parents and found three full-blood brothers.Her music passion never left—she recently won "Singing with the Desert Stars."Believes deeply in giving back to the community, especially through nonprofit work.#BigConversationsLittleBarPodcast #PatrickEvans #RandyFlorence #SkipsLittleBar #McCallumTheatre #AndreaCarter #MutualBroadcastingSystem #CoachellaValley #PalmSpringsFilmFestival #WarburtonGolfTournament #StJude #Philanthropy #CelebrityStories #DesertCharities #PodcastGuest #BehindTheScenes #AdoptionStory #MinnesotaRoots #DesertStars #SingingCompetition

Helaine Witt joined me me to discuss watching Bonanza in color; Ed Sullivan Show; her mom not liking Jack Benny; going to Elmont High School; John Mulaney; seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan and earlier on Jack Paar; Ringo not playing live at Shea; Elton John; teaching in 1970's NY; bad neighborhoods; being laid off by NYC; going to a stand up club in SF and taking classes; selling jokes to Joan Rivers; coming back to NY in 1991; working with Gladys Simon; working with Vanessa Hollingshead as a coach; going to the Actors Temple with Rabbi Jill; Simpsons "stealing" her jokes; Tom Padovano; my ending joke; Carrie Snow; her writing process; wanting to write for Gutfeld; being able to submit for Leno; more time for stand up after retiring from teaching in 2011; Governors Comedy Cub; Jewish Comedy Contest becomes a documentary called Still Standing; working with Jo Firestone on doc Good Timing; appearing on MSNBC and Wendy Williams; Joan Rivers didn't want a roast; Next Door app; Seinfeld; appearing in short film Singles Retreat and its premiere

Wat als je pas op je 45ste ontdekt wat je écht wil? Cally Beaton hing haar succesvolle carrière als tv-producer aan de wilgen en werd stand-upcomedian. Die radicale switch maakte ze na een etentje met Joan Rivers. De legendarische Amerikaanse comédienne zag haar talent en zei: “You can still do it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Twee weken later was Joan dood. En stond Cally - alleenstaand, moeder van twee, een kind met autisme - voor het eerst op het open mic-podium. Inmiddels is Cally Beaton (56) een gevestigde naam in het VK. Ze is comedian, spreker, podcastmaker én schrijver van het boek Namaste Motherf*ckers. In deze eerste aflevering van een tweeluik praat Debby met Cally – die vloeiend Nederlands spreekt – over haar boek, haar carrièreswitch, daten, zichtbaarheid en waarom vrouwen pas interessant worden als ze niet meer ‘fuckable’ zijn. Neem een abonnement: https://www.bladopproef.nl/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Nick revisits Joan Rivers' one and only stint as host of Saturday Night Live, a wild ride that aired in April 1983. At the time, Rivers was a comedy powerhouse—known for her sharp tongue, fearless punchlines, and an endless supply of Liz Taylor jokes. While the sketches written for her weren't exactly Emmy material, she powered through with her trademark grit and timing, turning even the clunkiest bits into something watchable. Highlights include a surreal moment where Joe Piscopo plays Joan in drag, and Eddie Murphy shows up as himself—but aged several decades. Rivers' monologue, packed with self-deprecating zingers, was easily the strongest part of the night and got big laughs. The episode also featured a solid cast lineup, including a young Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Brad Hall, Gary Kroeger, and Mary Gross doing their best with a strange assortment of sketches. Nick also shares clips and insights from a rare interview with Joan Rivers herself, where she opens up about her hosting experience—and why she was never invited back. Turns out, being a comedy legend doesn't guarantee a return ticket to Studio 8H. [EP 129]

In this episode, Cally talks to Kathy Lette about Kylie Minogue, Barry Humphries, Joan Rivers, Germaine Greer, Spike Milligan, books, feminism, autism, sexism, ageism, sisters and second acts.  Instagram: @kathylette Kathy's new book The Revenge Club More about Kathy Order Cally's Book Get tickets for Cally's Tour More about Cally Produced by Mike Hanson for Pod People Productions Music by Jake Yapp Cover design by Jaijo Part of the Auddy Network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The comedian tells Trish & Lorraine how a conversation with Joan Rivers inspired her to start a midlife side hustle as a stand up before quitting her boardroom job for good. Her advice? Dream big but start small, stop aiming for perfection and remember that there is no success without failure. Cally also shares her tales of life on the dating scene, being ghosted and why she'll never stop eating cinnamon buns. Plus: what's with all the big birthday nudes & would you rank your friends?Handy linksDiscover our content website & sign up for our newsletters: Postcards From Lorraine & TrishContact us: hello@postcardsfrommidlife.comFollow us on Instragram: @postcardsfrommidlifeJoin our private Facebook Group here Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

On this episode of THE HOT MIC, Jeff Sneider and John Rocha discuss the big entertainment news of the week including The Batman 2 script is reportedly due Monday, James Gunn's secret DC project and his recent comments on Superman trailer shot being removed, the short list of James Bond directors, 28 Years Later review, Aaron Pierre rumored for James Bond, Mindhunter could be three 2 hour movies, The Naked Gun, I Know What You Did Last Summer and Springsteen trailers, Dan Trachtenberg plans another ‘Predator' Project, Clayface has cast its lead, Johnny Depp back for Pirates Sequel?, Natasha Lyonne as Joan Rivers, Keanu Reeves rumored back for Drew Goddard's Matrix movie?, James Bobin for Dragons Lair, Glen Powell and Ron Howard film is a go, Adam Sandler heist film being worked on at Netflix and more!Chapters:0:00 Intro and Rundown2:10 The Batman Part 2 Script is Reportedly Due Monday8:35 James Gunn's Comments on his "Secret Project" and "Masterpiece" Script Demands12:50 SUPERMAN Box Office Tracking19:07 James Gunn Removes CGI Tumble Shot from SUPERMAN20:08 CLAYFACE Movie Casting, Budget and R Rating22:00 James Gunn Defends Matt Reeves's "Nuts" over Batman Part 230:24 28 YEARS LATER Spoiler Review36:58 5 Directors on the James Bond Shortlist48:48 Jake Schreier Confirmed for X-Men Movie50:38 Star Wars REY Movie is On Hold again53:47 Deliver Me From Nowhere, I Know What You Did Last Summer, Naked Gun Trailers1:01:12 Dan Trachtenberg Working on Secret Third PREDATOR Project1:04:53 James Bobin in Talks to Direct Dragon's Lair with Ryan Reynolds1:05:36 Rocha and Sneider Talk Mark Ellis's Schmoedown Thoughts with Jenn Sterger1:08:02 Streamlabs and Superchat Questions1:48:52 Ron Howard and Glen Powell, Blumhouse and Saw, Mindhunter S3 Could ReturnFollow John Rocha: @therochasays Follow Jeff Sneider: @TheInSneider  

Justin Bieber declares he's a ‘dad that's not to be f–ked with' in bizarre Father's Day 2025 post (Page Six) (38:26)Doja Cat Slams Fan Encounter In Now-Deleted Post: ‘I Threw That Musty Ass Shirt Away' (Pedestrian TV) (48:13)David Beckham Launches a New Snack Line Inspired by His Love for Beekeeping (PEOPLE) (53:26)Hailee Steinfeld Reveals All the 'Magical' Details About 'Unforgettable' Wedding Weekend with Husband Josh Allen (PEOPLE) (1:02:42)Natasha Lyonne to play Joan Rivers in upcoming biopic ‘Can We Talk?' (Far Out Magazine) (1:06:51)Love Island USA Recap (1:10:42)The Toast with Jackie (@JackieOshry) and Claudia Oshry (@girlwithnojob)Lean InThe Camper and The Counselor by Jackie OshryMerchThe Toast PatreonGirl With No Job by Claudia OshrySee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Jess is joined by standup comedian LIZ GLAZER, days after making her Tonight Show debut! Topics — Liz quitting her law career to pursue comedy, her failed SoulCycle instructor audition, being married to a (lesbian) rabbi, the ghost of Joan Rivers uniting her with Judy Gold, transcendental meditation, 12 step programs & more!  Cult of Body & Soul on all podcast platforms & YouTube Watch Liz' special on YouTube IG: @jessxnyc | @lizglazer  

Doja Cat was gifted a shirt from a fan (he literally gave her the shirt off his back). Well apparently she didn't like that She tweeted that she threw away the shirt which sparked a back and forth Twitter beef. Raye and Charli XCX are in talks to open up for Dua Lipa on her Radical Optimism tour at Wembley Stadium. Dua is also in talks with Netflix to produce a documentary about the Radical Optimism tour. Mattel is trying to find the next "Barbie". They have at least 14 toy based movies in production as we speak. Britney Spears also has her biopic green lit with Jon M Chu (Wicked) and Marc Platt (La La Land, Wicked, Dear Evan Hansen) attached to the film as director and producer. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has a new cast mate. Fashion designer, Rachel Zoe, is the newest addition to the glamorous cast of the popular franchise. Natasha Lyonne is reportedly going to be playing Joan Rivers in an upcoming biopic about the late legendary comedienne. Carly Rae Jepson's album EMOTION is 10 years old this year and has hit the billion streams milestone on Spotify. And to wrap up this episode we talk about the most popular movie sequels that were better than the originals. Thanks for listening!

A CLASSIC ROCKER FINDS OUT HE HAS A LOVE CHILD FROM THE 80's, some insane Movies announced and A wild list of celebrities and how they caught their significant others cheating… it's like celebs are just like us guys!CRAP ON FRIDAY Rick Moranis has been gone way too long. Even those new "Ghostbusters" movies didn't lure him back to Hollywood. But I am quite excited to announce that he WILL return to once again play Dark Helmet in "Spaceballs 2"!!! Bill Pullman will return as the hero Lone Starr, too. And Mel Brooks will be back as Yogurt . . . and, presumably . . . President Skroob. (He played both characters in the original.) Josh Gad co-wrote the script, and he's expected to be in it, too. Pullman's son Lewis Pullman has also been cast, along with Keke Palmer . . . but there's no word who they're playing. There's also no word on any other returning cast members. Obviously, John Candy, Joan Rivers, and Dick Van Patten won't be back, since they're no longer with us. Mel released the first teaser yesterday. There's no footage, since filming hasn't begun yet. It starts with a text crawl that makes fun of all the "Star Wars" prequels, sequels, sequels to the prequels, prequels to the sequels, and TV spin-offs. Then it lists all the "Dune", "Jurassic Park", "Avatar", and Marvel movies, plus DC's TWO attempts to start a cinematic universe . . . and just about every other overdone franchise you can name. Then, after a quick appearance from Mel, we get a shot of Rick Moranis' cracked helmet, and the tagline: "The Schwartz Awakens in 2027." Which sounds like a possible title but it's spaceballs and mel brooks so it could be anything. Here is Mel making his announcement. Jerry Seinfeld Proposes ‘Live-Action Sequel' to 'Bee Movie'Jerry Seinfeld has people buzzin' with this idea!The comedic genius posted about the possibility of a “live-action sequel” to his 2007 animated hit Bee Movie.“Bee Movie, which came out nearly 20 years ago, is #4 on Netflix,” he wrote on Instagram showing a hand holding a tennis ball with a honey bee on it. The next slide was the movie's poster, an image of Seinfeld's character Barry B. Benson similarly straddling a tennis ball.“Today, my friend Spike Feresten, one of the writers on the film, was playing tennis and this happened."He continued, “Clearly a sign. Time for a live-action sequel..?" DreamWorks' Bee Movie, which Seinfeld produced, co-wrote, and starred in along with Renée Zellweger, has become a cult favorite since its release.Bee Movie also featured the voices of Matthew Broderick, John Goodman, Chris Rock, Kathy Bates, Megan Mullally, Oprah Winfrey, and several celebrities appearing as animated versions of themselves, including Larry King, Ray Liotta, and Sting.Saint Louis' own Nelly and Ashanti are putting their lives on TV for all to see. They announced an upcoming reality show called Nelly & Ashanti: We Belong Together.A show synopsis says Nelly and Ashanti "rekindle their love, navigate the ups and downs of being newlyweds and new parents, and juggle their careers."The eight-episode series will air on Peacock starting June 26th.A DNA Test Connects Billy Idol To A Son He Didn't Know He HadDetails on the lovechild Billy Idol didn't know he had until a few years ago have surfaced.Idol's daughter, Bonnie, shared in the new doc, 'Billy Idol Should Be Dead', "My husband just surprised me with a DNA test as a Christmas present [a few years ago]. Then a few weeks later, I get the results back on the app and open it and I'm like, who is this? This Brant. His info reads, 'New York, 1985, looking for my biological dad.' I was like, ‘What?'"Brant, Idol's lovechild, grew up believing his dad was someone else until a different DNA questioned his mother's claims about his father. After confronting his mom, she told Brant, "Well, it's pretty crazy, but back in the day, we broke up and I actually spent a weekend with Billy Idol."Fans have done the math and calculate that Brant was conceived during Idol's wildly successful 1984 'Rebel Yell' tour.Idol has whole-heartedly accepted Brant as family, saying, "I really enjoyed being a dad. I always wanted a boy and a girl, and I finagled my way into a boy and a girl. I actually had a son that I didn't realize, who I fathered on the Rebel Yell tour without knowing it. So I somehow finagled this as well."Brant was at Idol's Walk of Fame ceremony back in 2023.Prime Video Will Soon Show Double The AdsAmazon Prime Video is about to double the number of commercials shown per hour on its ad-supported membership level. An Adweek report got the news from an Amazon spokesperson about the amount of commercials going to "four to six minutes per hour" from the two to three minutes that Prime users are used to. In 2024, subscribers who had ad-free access were forced to pay an extra $3 a month to maintain the status. Jay-Z Loses $1 Million NBA Finals Bet Jay-Z is out $1 million after losing a bet on the NBA Finals. Jay placed a bet prior to the series, banking on the Oklahoma City Thunder to win the championship in five games. After Wednesday night's Thunder loss to the Indiana Pacers, OKC can't win the series unless they do it in six or seven games. Jay-Z would have won $3.5 million if the bet had cashed in. With a net worth of $2.5 billion, we're sure Jay-Z will be alright. Ok you guys remember Spinal Tap? The Album cover debate with the label and why it became an all black cover or as Nigel would say NONE MORE BLACK? It was because the original had a woman on all fours with a dog leash on and it was deemed sexist…. To which Nigel replies “Whats wrong with being sexy? Well get this, Sabrina Carpenter announced her new album yesterday, and it's causing a lot of controversy. It's called "Man's Best Friend", and the cover has Sabrina on all fours, in front of a man who's pulling a handful of her hair. A women's advocacy group in Scotland called it "regressive", saying it reduces women to, quote, "pets, props, and possessions," and promotes "an element of violence and control." Sabrina's fans are defending it as SATIRE, and a commentary on how badly women are treated. And some are pointing out that the first single, "Manchild", actually makes FUN of men. HERE IS A CLIP OF THATMeanwhile, in the new "Rolling Stone" cover story, Sabrina talks about being criticized for the sexual imagery in her stage show. She says, quote "It's always so funny to me when people complain. They're like, 'All she does is sing about this.' But those are the songs that you've made popular. Clearly you love sex. You're obsessed with it." She adds, quote, "I truly feel like I've never lived in a time where women have been picked apart more, and scrutinized in every capacity. I'm not just talking about me. I'm talking about every female artist that is making art right now." Pope Leo isn't even the most famous guy in his family. The "New York Times" researched his family tree, and found out that he's related to a bunch of celebrities. The link is an ancestor from about six generations back. He name was Louis Boucher de Grandpre, and he was born in Quebec.And because of him, Leo is distant cousins with Justin Bieber, Justin Trudeau, Angelina Jolie, Hillary Clinton, Jack Kerouac, and Madonna. It's interesting that Leo would be related to Madonna, given that the Catholic Church has condemned her several times . . . most famously when she released her "Like a Prayer" video in 1989. A few years ago, Madonna reached out to Pope Francis, asking to meet with him to discuss "important matters." She told him, quote, "I've been ex-communicated 3 times. It doesn't seem fair." If you've ever wondered how the creators of "Friends" came up with the character of Joey Tribbiani . . . we might just have the answer this morning. Joey Lawrence claims Matt LeBlanc's character was based on HIS character Joey Russo from "Blossom". Lawrence says, quote, "Joey Russo was so successful that when they were creating 'Friends', they wanted a 25-year-old version of that." Supposedly, Matt's character wasn't even originally called Joey, but they changed it because the "Blossom" character was so successful. Joey even claims that Matt was sent to tapings of "Blossom" where he would, quote, "sit up in the audience with a yellow notepad and take notes on how I portrayed Joey Russo." He says they wanted Matt to bring the "innocence" of Joey Russo to Joey Tribbiani, so the character could, quote, "get away with his womanizing." I guess the Grammys were sick of hearing about whether Beyoncé deserved to win Best Country Album for "Cowboy Carter". So, they just announced a major change. For next year's Grammys, the award formally known as Best Country Album will now be called Best Contemporary Country Album . . . and they will also be adding a new category: Best Traditional Country Album. There's a lot to unpack here. And one year after Beyoncé wins makes the timing of this all the more clickbait-y. According to the Grammy website, "traditional country music", quote, "adheres to the more traditional sound structures of the country genre, including rhythm and singing style, lyrical content, as well as traditional country instrumentation such as acoustic guitar, steel guitar, fiddle, banjo, mandolin, piano, and live drums." Where "contemporary country music", quote, "remains reminiscent and relevant to the legacy of country music's culture, while also engaging in more contemporary music forms." Someone tweeted, "Morgan Wallen and Post Malone better not be in the traditional country category at the Grammys, because in what world are they traditional country?" Wait, hold up. When Morgan collaborated with Alvin and the Chipmunks, that wasn't traditional country??New in Theaters: "How to Train Your Dragon", "Materialists", and "The Life of Chuck" There's nothing like a good breakup story. Here are seven times a celebrity found out their partner was cheating in an unconventional way: 1. Demi Moore learned that Ashton Kutcher was having an affair in 2011, from a Google Alert. When she called him on it, he admitted it right away. Her response was, quote, "Are you [effing] kidding me?" 2. Britney Spears started dating lawyer David Lucado in 2012. But in 2014, her father found out there was paparazzi footage of David kissing another woman. He bought it to prevent it from being released, and Britney broke it off. 3. Kourtney Kardashian dumped Scott Disick in 2008, after finding texts on his phone from a contact called, quote, "my wife." They did the on-and-off thing until 2015, when photos emerged of Scott with another woman in France. 4. Elizabeth Hurley found out Hugh Grant was cheating on her in 1995, when he got arrested for GETTING IT ON with Sunset Boulevard prostitute Divine Brown in his car. They didn't break up until 2000, and they're still friends. 5. Laura Dern found out Billy Bob Thornton was being unfaithful when the news broke that he had ELOPED with Angelina Jolie in 2000. She was away making a movie, and she never saw it coming. 6. Eva Longoria's marriage to NBA star Tony Parker ended in 2010, after she found inappropriate texts with another woman on his phone. 7. This one's ancient history, but it was a HUGE tabloid story back in the day: In 1958, actress Debbie Reynolds was missing her husband, Eddie Fisher, because he was supposedly away on tour. So she decided to give her friend Elizabeth Taylor a call . . . and who answered Liz's phone? Eddie FREAKIN' Fisher. (!!!) Eddie left Debbie and married Liz, but that only lasted five years.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

National Name your poison day.  Entertainment from 2021.  Bill of Rights proposed to US Constitution, Vacuum cleaner invented, Worlds 1st auto theft.  Todays birthdays - Jerry Stiller, Joan Rivers, Nancy Sinatra, Chuck Negron, Boz Skaggs, Bonnie Tyler, Tim Berners-Lee, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Rob Pilatus, Julianna Margulies, kanye West.  Andrew Jackson died.Intro - God did good - Dianna Corcoran    https://www.diannacorcoran.com/Name your poison - Ted NugentButter - BTSForever after all - Luke CombsBirthdays - In da club - 50 Cent    http://50cent.com/These boots were made for walkin - Nancy SinatraJoy to the world - Three Dog NightLook what you've done to me - Boz SkaggsTotal eclipse of the heart - Bonnie tylerIn Living Color TV themeGirl you know its true - Millie VanilliStronger - Kanye WestExit - You aint no match - Lena Paige   Lena on facebookcountryundergroundradio.com cooolmedia.com

There are performers that impact your life without you even knowing it and today's guest fits that bill. On the show, we have comedic genius, multi-award-winning actor, writer, producer, director, and television host, Billy Crystal. We've seen Billy's versatile work across all areas in the entertainment world, stand-up, improv, Broadway, behind and in front of the camera, feature films, television, live stages like SNL, and animated movies. It's fascinating how much the man has done over the span of his career---and his lengthy IMDB page is only the tip of the iceberg.Billy's career took off for his role in the 70's sitcom SOAP, where he played a gay character, Jodie Dallas. This launched him into box office hits such as When Harry Met Sally, City Slickers, Analyze This, and the kids' favorite, Mike Wazowski in Monsters, Inc. just to name a few. Aside from hosting the Oscars® a record nine times and being only one step away from an EGOT, he's a philanthropist. Billy, along with Whoopi Goldberg and the late Robin Williams created the annual fundraiser stand-up comedy show, Comic Relief, in 1986 that has over the years, raised over $60 million to support the homeless. The late 80s and early 90s were a really magical time for Billy's career. He had the box office hits Running Scared and Throw Momma from the Train. He had scene-stealing parts in the classics This is Spinal Tap and The Princess Bride. There's the 1989 box office smash hit When Harry Met Sally, starring Billy alongside Meg Ryan and Carrie Fisher. The story follows Harry and Sally who had known each other for years, and are very good friends, but they fear sex would ruin the friendship.You can't talk about Billy Crystal classics without mentioning City Slickers for which he won a Golden Globes award for Best Actor in a Motion Picture Musical/Comedy. On the verge of turning 40, an unhappy Manhattan yuppie is roped into joining his two friends on a cattle drive in the southwest.Billy's interest in entertainment started way before college. But his decision to go to NYU put some goals into place for him. He was a member of an improv/comedy group in college and soon he started to host solo standup shows. By 1978, he landed his first starring feature film role in Rabbit Test in which he starred with Joan Rivers. Towards the end of the 90s, Billy joined iconic Robert De Niro and Lisa Kudrow in the box blockbuster hit Analyze This and its sequel to Analyze That.Billy's work transcends generations and Gen Z is his newest fandom; distinctively for his role in Monster Inc. and Monsters University, Mike Wazowski. Monsters University revisits the relationship between Mike Wazowski and James P. "Sully" Sullivan during their days at Monsters University when they weren't necessarily the best of friends.Billy will reprise his role as Mike Wazowski in the Monsters at Work Disney+ series that is set for release later this year.One defining element of Billy's work, be it writing, acting, or directing is that he pulls from real-life experiences and balances funny and hard conversations effortlessly. Having started out in the business since he was 20 years old, it is absolutely thrilling to watch how he's knitted together diverse platforms and filed into an accomplished career. This Friday, May 7th, Billy's newest film, in which he wrote and directed, Here Today, stars himself and the incredibly funny, Tiffany Haddish, will be released only in theaters. These two make a seamless pairing and their chemistry is oh so charming. The intergenerational teaming of Billy and Tiffany tells a love story that is of friendship, support, and empathy. I absolutely LOVED the film. Do yourself a favor and go out and catch this gem of a film. When veteran comedy writer Charlie Burnz meets New York street singer Emma Payge, they form an unlikely yet hilarious and touching friendship that kicks the generation gap aside and redefines the meaning of love and trust.Billy has always been there to make me laugh, in good times and bad. I can not tell you what an honor and thrill it was getting to sit down and speak to a filmmaker, writer, and actor that has meant so much to me in my life.Enjoy my entertaining conversation with Billy Crystal.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/next-level-soul-podcast-with-alex-ferrari--4858435/support.

We talk tariffs, whether Trump is man Joan Rivers, the good that we still need to fight for, and what is happening on the ground in Gaza. The story is changing in main stream media, we talk why, and where we need to go from here. Oh yea, some stuff about ancient humans. Get in with Janaya Future Khan. SUPPORT THE SHOW  Patreon - https://patreon.com/@darkwoke Tip w/ a One Time Donation SUBSCRIBE + FOLLOW IG: www.instagram.com/darkwokejfk Youtube: www.youtube.com/@darkwoke TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@janayafk

NOTA: Debido a un problema con nuestro Estudio de Edición este episodio no tiene música de fondo. El manager de Karen Paola hace una gira de su funa, todo sobre el concierto de Myriam Hernández, Yanina Latorre versus China Suárez: viva el folclor berreta, oro en youtube: compilado de entrevistas de Joan Rivers en Howard Stern, SIGNOS: Geminis no tan problemáticos y mucho más! Visita www.patreon.com/elgosip para obtener más contenido cultural.

Kenny and Mark pick up the story of this anthemic, enduring tracks from Rebel Heart. Topics include: the haunting MNEK, Ryan Tedder, apocalyptic lyrics, Joan Rivers, survival techniques, alternative melodies, drumming, and the power of a solo Madonna producer credit. Plus, another alternative release concept for Rebel Heart to consider and the priority of reaching out, making time, and being together. Only love tonight, babes.

In this SEASON 3 FINALE, I sit down with Emmy, Peabody, and Humanitas Award-winning writer and comedy icon John Markus. From memories of his mother's hearty Eastern European cooking to early joke writing for legends like Bob Hope and Joan Rivers. John shares his incredible journey through the world of comedy. Get the inside scoop on his breakout role with the hit sitcom Taxi, and how he rose to become head writer and show-runner on one of the most iconic shows of the 80s that later became controversial because of its star, Bill Cosby. And in a delicious twist, he also lets us in on how he became a member of the Barbecue Hall of Fame and created the hit TV show, BBQ Pitmasters! A hilarious and revealing conversation with this comedy legend, one with an unheard-of surprise ending.

A stunning verdict in the Kim Kardashian heist trial. Could convicted killer Scott Peterson walk free? Meet the “Joan Rivers of TikTok.” Plus, Billy Joel's surprising announcement. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

 Please subscribe! ⁠On this episode of the To Di For Daily podcast, Kinsey Schofield welcomes HOLLYWOOD ICON, Melissa Rivers! She's the daughter of a comedy legend, but Melissa Rivers is a force all her own. TV host, podcast host, producer, author, and advocate—she's navigated Hollywood with humor, heart, and a whole lot of grit. The pair discusses one of the most unexpected—and hilarious—chapters in her mother's life: Joan Rivers' relationship with the British royal family. From royal roasts to real friendships, we're diving into the crown jewels of Joan's comedy. Get ready for a revealing conversation with the woman who proves that resilience really does run in the family.  Listen to “Melissa Rivers' Group Text” wherever you listen to podcasts and stream “Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute” on Peacock today! Follow @kinseyschofield on Instagram.  ROYAL MERCH - ⁠⁠ https://todifordaily.com Visit ⁠ToDiForDaily.com⁠ for additional information. Kinsey Schofield is a Los Angeles-based royals expert and the host of the To Di For Daily podcast and Kinsey Schofield Unfiltered on YouTube. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The boys are in are in NYC, talking about the the new Joan Rivers retrospective, “Overcompensating” on Amazon, and play another installment of “The Gay Games” --- Share the gift of gay all year round! https://www.patreon.com/RealityGays/gift JOIN RealityGays+ for exclusive content  + Patreon  https://www.patreon.com/RealityGays or  + Supercast  https://realitygaysmulti.supercast.com/  + Apple Subscriptions https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/reality-gays-with-mattie-and-poodle/id1477555097  Click here for all things RG!  https://linktr.ee/RealityGays We covered the latest season of The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives Season 2 on Hulu!  Watch us on video- www.youtube.com/@RealityGays To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Producer Melissa Rivers and reality star Reza Farahan join Jeff and Shane to talk about the items Melissa found in the rubble of her home and the details of her recent wedding. Plus, they talk about the new Joan Rivers tribute special that Melissa just produced.• • • Want more Jeff Lewis? Click here to sign up for 3 free months of SiriusXM and listen weekdays to "Jeff Lewis Live" from 12-2pE/9-11aP on Radio Andy Channel 102. Plus, tune into The Jeff Lewis Channel for even more Jeff content streaming exclusively on the SiriusXM app channel 789.• • • Host - Jeff LewisGuests - Melissa Rivers, Reza Farahan, & Shane DouglasSenior Director – Lisa MantineoDirector - Alyssa HeimrichSenior Producer & Editor - Jamison ScalaAssociate Producer – Oscar Beltran

Tune in every Friday for more WOW Report.10) 4 Legends/1 Stage: Knight, Mills, LaBelle, & Khan at the Forum @00:429) Cristobal Balenciaga on Hulu @08:148) Diller-tantes: In or Out? @11:187) Goldie & Liza: Together in 1980 for a CBS Special @18:426) Wear Whatever the F You Want on Prime @23:52 5) Fenton's Latest Insta-Obsessions  @26:494) Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All Star Tribute @32:283) New Rules for the Red Carpet @35:482) AirBnB's Rebrand @37:521) Dan Mathews with Save the Chimps @41:15

Between Mother's Day, an anniversary and a new Joan River's tribute, there's a lot to celebrate on the show this week. Anna and Dre describe their quality time spent with the moms, Lee and Carol. Also which couple is celebrating a nine year anniversary? And yes, they're high school sweethearts. Dre recounts saving a man's life (well not technically) from the largest centipede she's ever seen while at dinner. Andy Cohen is staying busy with all the housewives news coming out…New York is getting cancelled or recasted (?) and a brand new Rhode Island franchise is coming to a screen near you. We've got a big wigs exclusive from Teresa G talking about her thoughts on RI. Plus Housewife alum, Bethenny Frankel, reveals the real reason she's relocating to Florida. And we absolutely had to get into Hilaria Baldwins recent press shenanigans promoting her new book. She's either strolling through the NYC streets or doing handstands on the sidewalk and honestly we love her for that. Also Anna explains Rachel Ray's recent video and why there's cause for concern around her health. Protect Rachel at all costs! All that and some fresh Mela Water. Watch the full episodes on  Youtube. And follow Anna & Dre for more content.

Kim Kardashian comes face to face with the men accused of tying her up, gagging her, and holding her at gunpoint. ET in Paris where the star arrived dripping in diamonds and defiant. New details from her emotional testimony, we're with her legal team after her nearly 5 hours on the stand. Then, day two of Diddy's trial as Cassie Ventura delivers tearful testimony. From alleged four-day ‘freak offs' to hiring escorts, how she says Diddy controlled her life. And the Menendez brothers together in front of a judge. How today's hearing could help them get out of prison. Plus, Jason Kelce on spending Mother's Day with Taylor Swift and playing defense as a dad of four kids under the age of six. Then, the inside scoop on highly anticipated new TV. From the “Legally Blonde” streaming series to a Nicole Kidman and Jamie Lee Curtis team up. Plus, a “Devil Wears Prada” sequel on the way? Why no one is more excited than Emily Blunt's hubby, John Krasinski. And Sports Illustrated reveals their swimsuit issue cover models. Salma Hayek's sizzles at 58. Why she tried to back out of the photoshoot. Then, Cannes is underway. Why the film festival's new red-carpet rules nearly got Halle Berry banned. Plus, a preview of tonight's TV tribute to Joan Rivers. The lie her daughter, Melissa, told to kick it all off. And Shaq pays up. How ET scored a spot in Nascar. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Alexis' creepy doll collection grows, rotisserie chicken at the airport, BOOB TUBE: "Chaos" and NBC's Joan Rivers special. and do we need a "Legally Blonde" universe?See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Today on the Woody and Wilcox Show: Amazon driver fired for using the bathroom during a delivery; TV networks announce new and returning shows; Joan Rivers tribute on NBC; Employees pull a prank in the drive-thru; The Diddy trial has started; You could get money for each Apple device you have; Paying your bills in person; Wilcox explains traveler's checks; Courtroom artists; And more!

Highlights include the release of Tom Segura's 'Bad Thoughts' on Netflix, Tony Hinchcliffe's appearance on Bill Maher's podcast, NBC's tribute to Joan Rivers featuring top comedians, and NBC's announcement for a 100-year celebration special. Additionally, there are updates on new TV shows such as Tracy Morgan's upcoming sitcoms and the 'The Office' spinoff 'The Paper.' Johnny also discusses Fox's reboot of 'Fear Factor' and critiques Greg Gutfeld's new show concept. The segment wraps up with some late-night show gossip, including an injury on SNL and a celebrity sighting at a Theo Von concert. 00:09 Tom Segura's 'Bad Thoughts' on Netflix02:52 Tony Hinchcliffe on Bill Maher's Podcast04:19 Joan Rivers Tribute and NBC Upfronts07:34 New TV Shows and Cancellations10:21 Gossip Corner: SNL and Celebrity NewsGet the show without ads. Five bucks.  For Apple users, hit the banner on your Apple podcasts app which says UNINTERRUPTED LISTENING. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.com/plus.    Contact John at john@thesharkdeck dot com  John's free substack about the media:  Media Thoughts  is mcdpod.substack.com DCN on Threads: https://www.threads.net/@dailycomedynews https://linktr.ee/dailycomedynews You can also support the show at www.buymeacoffee.com/dailycomedynews Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/daily-comedy-news--4522158/support.

Get you best "woof woof woof" on for today's Legend, standup comic, television host, and television and movie star Arsenio Hall. From humble beginnings Arsenio graduated from Kent State University then headed west to follow his comedy dreams. After some early success, Arsenio vaulted to national prominence when he played Eddie Murphy's friend in the comedy hit Coming to America. Hall played several roles and was so popular that Fox tapped him as a late night host, first as a substitute for Joan Rivers, then with his own show -- one that opened with that "woof woof woof" chant. In later years, Arsenio has hosted a revival of Star Search, and had solid supporting roles in both tv shows and movies. A 2021 sequel to Coming to America restored Arsenio to prominence (and was a very nice surprise during the pandemic). As always find extra clips below and thanks for sharing our shows! Want more Arsenio? Arsenio's career breakout came In 1988's Coming to America -- he played several roles including the local pastor -- and his take on a black beauty pageant was a comic highlight of the film. https://youtu.be/ExG7Ut6DJ1E?si=pvHEKqMHqTGPI11R Arsenio was an instant smash on late night tv with his energy and appeal to a younger demographic. Here's a taste of his show from 1991. https://youtu.be/jEdlsU7s-tA?si=cKeNKoayoCMEtWlV In 2021, Arsenio had a major career boost when he reprised several roles in Coming 2 America, a sequel to the 1988 film Coming to America. Here's some fun bits with Arsenio and Eddie Murphy. https://youtu.be/-J4cPbGP4pA?si=209n5it4eKSoawHf      

An inside look at the Met's new costume exhibit. Also, Robert Irwin stops by ahead of the 'Steve Irwin Annual Gala.' Plus, Melissa Rivers shares details on new special, 'Joan Rivers: A Dead Funny All-Star Tribute.' And, new workouts for women's health month. 

From Lucille Ball to Tina Fey, from Joan Rivers to Margaret Cho, women have been rewriting the rules of comedy for decades — and they're not done yet. Host Cynthia Bemis Abrams is joined by Lynn Harris, founder of Gold Comedy, to explore the legacy and future of funny women on TV. Together, they dissect the comedic influence of legends like Mary Tyler Moore, Moms Mabley, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus — and discuss why shows like SNL still present challenges for women today. With a nod to streaming, social media, and evolving industry gatekeepers, this episode dives into how women and non-binary creatives are shaping the next chapter of television comedy. Background & Mentions Gold Comedy – https://goldcomedy.com/ 1.21 – Lucille Ball's Humility & Pride https://traffic.libsyn.com/advancedtvherstory/Lucille_Balls_Humility__Pride.mp3 6.15 – Presenting Margaret Cho https://advancedtvherstory.libsyn.com/presenting-margaret-cho 11.1 – SNL's Gilda Radner: A Life Celebrated in Film https://advancedtvherstory.libsyn.com/snls-gilda-radner-a-life-celebrated-in-film   Book recommendations: Joan Rivers (1986) Enter Talking and Carol Burnett (2011) This Time Together   Learn more about Moms Mabley https://nmaahc.si.edu/moms-mabley   TV series Ellen (1994-98) S.4, e 22 The Puppy Episode https://www.dailymotion.com/video/xnty3f   WI Public Radio interview with Hacks creators https://www.wpr.org/culture/hacks-co-creators-on-their-emmy-winning-comedy-show

Meg investigates the multiple kidnappings of Curtis Sliwa, founder of The Guardian Angels. Jessica discovers the year women in comedy turned the tide…for themselves: 1983.Please check out our website, follow us on Instagram, on Facebook, and...WRITE US A REVIEW HEREWe'd LOVE to hear from you! Let us know if you have any ideas for stories HEREThank you for listening!Love,Meg and Jessica

In this episode of The Real GI Doc Show, Dr. Fred Gandolfo tackles listener questions in a candid Q&A session, providing valuable insights into genetic conditions and colonoscopy procedures. Key discussions include: - An exploration of the MUTYH gene mutation, its implications for colon cancer risk, and the importance of regular screenings for those affected. - A detailed explanation of the colonoscopy process, including preparation tips and the significance of frequent monitoring for individuals with a history of polyps or genetic predispositions. - Dr. Gandolfo addresses concerns surrounding the safety of colonoscopies, debunking myths and clarifying the risks associated with the procedure, including a discussion on the tragic case of Joan Rivers. - Insight into the rationale behind the recommended 10-year interval between routine colonoscopies for individuals with no significant findings, emphasizing the importance of adhering to screening guidelines. - A lighthearted yet informative exchange about the challenges of navigating healthcare systems, including patient experiences with insurance providers and the complexities of scheduling procedures. As the episode concludes, Dr. Gandolfo encourages listeners to submit their own questions about gastrointestinal health. Watch The Real GI Doc Show on YouTube! Click here! Listen to my guest appearance on The Positive Gene Podcast for more about genetic colon cancer syndromes. Be sure to subscribe to The Real GI Doc Show for more insights, and reach out with your questions on social media @realgidoc or leave an audio question for Dr. Gandolfo here. Find The Real GI Doc Show on social media, join the newsletter, read Dr. Gandolfo's bio, or ask a question using this link.

Were you Team Coco or Team Jay?  We're referring to the highly publicized battle that occurred between Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien over “The Tonight Show” back in 2010. And if you remember that, you may also recall a similar rivalry that took place years before– this time between Jay Leno and Dave Letterman.  But these late night talk show conflicts are just part of what we cover in Part 2 of this lively episode on late night talk shows. Here's a glimpse at a few other events that come up… What secret deal helped Jay Leno land the spot as Johnny Carson's replacement? How did Conan O'Brien strike back at NBC when he felt he'd been mistreated by the network? What heartfelt Craig Ferguson monologue from 2007 is now legendary? And which talk show host ended the NBC ban on Joan Rivers by inviting her on his show? We give you plenty to talk about in this fun episode! Find (and subscribe to!) the show on your favorite podcast app or the Scandal Water Podcast Youtube channel.  Thank you to listener Jennifer for her top-of-the-episode shout out! MID ROLL AD: A big thank you to listener Sherry for her ongoing support of Scandal Water via Buy Me a Coffee! How to support Scandal Water: Rate, review and subscribe! Send your shoutouts to scandalwaterpodcast@gmail.com. Give a gift through buymeacoffee.com/scandalwaterpod or patreon.com/ScandalWaterPodcast– which will also grant you access to fabulous bonus content!  #TheTonightShow #JohnnyCarson #JackParr #SteveAllen #FayeEmerson #JoanRivers #DavidLetterman #JayLeno #ConanOBrien #JimmyFallon #JimmyKimmel #CraigFerguson #TalkShows #TalktoMe #Podcasting

Pass the podcast 'pon the left hand side, ammirite? Ha ha ha. We have fun. And speaking of fun, here's a wild one from the Ebersol years. Joan Rivers! Y'all know her. Comedienne extraordinaire, red carpet correspondent and world class Liz Taylor hater. She's here to host one of the loudest episodes of the show's history, complete with one of the show's most strangely under-seen moments of joyfully coming off the rails. And then there's poor Musical Youth, exhaustedly performing their early 80s hits late in the night's proceedings. It's a bit of a mess and Update...ooh boy, Update. Are the bits of shocking racism and Joan River's bursting-at-the-seams energy enough to sink Timmy's ship or will the gleeful madness save him in the nick of time? Tune in to find out.

Which late-night talk show hosts have kept YOU company during the wee hours?  Chances are, there've been several because the history of late night talk shows extends back more than 70 years… and is the subject of this fascinating Part 1 episode! What woman holds the distinction of being the very first late night talk show host? Who established trademark features of the genre, like the opening monologue, comedy bits, and host's desk? What “Tonight Show” host quit and walked off during a show? How did Johnny Carson help launch the careers of numerous comedians, including Dave Letterman and Jay Leno? And what incident resulted in Joan Rivers being banned from NBC late night for decades? Talk about a fun episode! Find (and subscribe to!) the show on your favorite podcast app or the Scandal Water Podcast Youtube channel.  Thank you to listener Gina for her top-of-the-episode shout out! MID-ROLL AD: We now offer Apple Subscriptions! To sign up, just go to Apple Podcasts and search for Scandal Water Podcast. How to support Scandal Water: Rate, review and subscribe! Send your shoutouts to scandalwaterpodcast@gmail.com. Give a gift through buymeacoffee.com/scandalwaterpod or patreon.com/ScandalWaterPodcast– which will also grant you access to fabulous bonus content!    #TheTonightShow #JohnnyCarson #JackParr #SteveAllen #FayeEmerson #JoanRivers #DavidLetterman #JayLeno #CraigFerguson #TalkShows #TalktoMe #Podcasting

As you all know I went to Coachella and I'm here to tell you all about it. The main event and something I'll be thinking about for the rest of my life was Lady Gaga's set. She spared no expense and gave a career defining (one of many) performance. In other pop culture news, Prada has purchased Versace for $1.4 billion. Marina has announced the title and release date of her new album Princess of Power which comes out on June 6th. Benson Boone also announced his new album, American Heart, while performing at Coachella. It is rumored that Ariana Grande is finishing up work on her 8th studio album which is reportedly coming out in the fall. Grey's Anatomy star Eric Dane has announced the he has been diagnosed with ALS. He said he is feeling fine and is looking forward to filming the new season of Euphoria. The queen of country music, Dolly Parton, is getting her own exhibit a the Country Music Hall of Fame. A lot of magazine news this month. Billie is on the cover of British Vogue, Florence Pugh is on Harper's Bazaar, Natalie Portman is on the cover of Interview, and Demi Moore is one of Time's most influential people. Khloe Kardashian let us in on her life in an episode of Call Her Daddy. And lastly, NBC is hosting a night all about Joan Rivers. Comedians will come together and honor the icon that Joan was and admire the amazing career that she had. Thanks for listening!

Karin Winegar is a long-time journalist who recently completed a 30 + year labor of love when Horse Lovers – Unpacking The Female Fascination With Horses. Karins work has been featured in the New York Times, Conde Nast and The Western Horseman. Karins love for animals made her want to be a veterinarian and her love was eventually channeled to the written word. Karin was a reporter for the Minneapolis Star and along the way interviewed such heavyweights as Dick Cavett, Joan Rivers, Anthony Quinn and Rodney Dangerfield who wore a bathrobe to the interview! Horse Lovers – Unpacking The Female Fascination reveals women as risk takers, romantics, independents so much more. She untangles the roots of female horse craziness, sizes it up, assesses its causes and effects and explores in depth who women are and why women feel and do what they do. It is a trail of exaltations, adventures and inquiries. It is about a colorful worldwide culture, about vivid lives and about a unique form of love.  Sit back and enjoy!

On this random episode about nothing, we listen to interviews with comedy legend Jerry Lewis, where he shits on everyone from his fans to Joan Rivers to the Academy. We also discuss some of Jerry's later movie roles and controversies.   Want to hear more? Join us on Patreon for 40+ bonus episodes and discussions: https://www.patreon.com/almostcultclassics You can also find us on X: Joe: https://twitter.com/joeramoni Ryan: https://twitter.com/ryanlancello And don't forget to check out our website and merch store: https://www.almostcultclassics.com

Comedian Heather McMahan has made audiences laugh with her relatable and authentic comedy for years. Jenna Bush Hager and Heather sit down to discuss her rise in comedy - from performing at her junior prom, to going on tour. They chat about how Heather knew as a kid that she was destined to be a performer, how comedy legend Joan Rivers impacted her career, and how social media helped skyrocket her career to the next level. Plus, she opens up about how she navigated the loss of her dad and how comedy has been a form of healing.