Saturday, February 28, 2009

To the 6 year olds in Ms. Bulman's Class

Dear Children:
Thank you for your lovely cards, letters and drawings. It was by far the best gift I received for my 30th Birthday. Thank you.
Some (emphasize "some", Ms. Bulman) of you are excellent artists, and I've even put up on my apartment walls your best efforts. So keep made my day!

There were many questions that were raised in the letters, and here is my attempt to answer them:

Question: Happy Birthday?
Answer: Yes.

Question: What is your favorite color?
Answer: I like the color blue. I also like red and orange, but blue is my favorite. When I was your age, I liked green the best!

Question: What color are you?
Answer: I am white with yellow teeth. I have blond hair and blue eyes. I have lots of freckles that are brown and a black one that needs to be checked by a dermatologist.

Question: Do you like?
Answer: Yes, I like...but do you mean "like-like", or just "like"?

Question: Do you like to play?
Answer: Yes, I do like to play. I play with my girlfriend, Kristen. It's like tag.

Question: Do you have any pets?
Answer: Yes, I recently started tending to Goldfish. My first Goldfish, Leroy, was a Red Capped Oranda goldfish who lived from December 18th to December 28th 2008 before going "elsewhere"; I then brought three heartier friends, Mr. Twitch, who is a fan-tail goldfish; Huckleberry Finn, who is a Lion Head goldfish; and Sarah (Theresa, please pronounce her name as, THARAH, as she has down syndrome and is unable to pronounce the letter "S"), who is a Pearl Scale goldfish. Sarah has a large head with padding like a helmet. This protects her from injuring herself on the bridge in the aquarium. I love my fish!

Question: How are you today?
Answer: Very well, thanks.

Question: Are there Panda Bears there?
Answer: No, they are in China.

Question: Can you buy me a Koala Bear?
Answer: I'm afraid not! Beyond the logistics of getting a critter that size into my luggage and through customs, I'm afraid I could never afford one on a student's salary.

Question: What animals have you seen?
Answer: Kristen and I went to see penguins down on Philip Island, recently. They are the world's smallest penguins. Very cute. I have also recently seen snakes, bats, kangaroos and a blue tongue lizard...all while running along the trails. I live near a river, called The Merri Creek. It is very low right now because Australia is a very dry land...mostly desert...and the area I live in is suffering a bad drought. This sometimes causes fires, and the animals and plants have evolved to survive fires. Kangaroos will run right through a fire rather than attempt to out run the fire. And the trees, called "Eucalyptus" or "Gum Trees", have adapted to survive bush fires and drought.

Question: What is your favorite elf?
Answer: Dopey? (He's a dwarf, but I don't really have a favorite elf...)

Question: Do you know how to play the didgeridoo?
Answer: No. I'm afraid I would look rather silly trying so I don't think I'll ever bother.

Question: How are you?
Answer: I am fine.

Question: Can you count to five?
Answer: Yes, usually.

If you have other questions, please let me know and I will do my best to answer them.

Take care!

Matthew Bulman

Friday, February 27, 2009

The Power of Wow!

Our gilded age of war and depression simply calls for a new, flashier philosophy. And Jim Huggins...whose picture book, The Power of Wow!, was recently featured on Oprah's Book Club...may be just the savoir our era calls upon.

As Huggins's Philosophy puts it, "Zen is both AMAZING, and at the exact same time, not. And to master something that is both AMAZING and not amazing simply takes too much time. This has been the age old conundrum. My philosophy solves the time problem, doing for Philosophy what microwaves did for the culinary arts. I pack into ten minutes a day what years of Zen meditation fail to provide: Doses of pure Happiness."

Too good to be true? Perhaps. But, according to Huggins, perhaps not. The Power of Wow! argues, "Confusion abounds in our information age. In the beginning, there was only The Bible. People went to one source for mistakenly led a lot of people to Damascus...Thus, age old debates were solved, not as Father Farry suggests in his seminal paper, Rocks, Paper, Scissors: how age old problems used to be solved, but instead by what is revealed in the archaic linguistic phrase rarely stumbled across today, "Let's Bible it!"

Huggins continues, "Google came along and fucked everything up. Now, arguments are solved by the phrase, "Let's Google it!" It’s virtually the same, “Let’s Bible it!” pattern. And, while millions of answers are provided, happiness eludes us, war abounds, and the economy sinks further into despair. The Power of Wow! teaches you how to get your happiness before others get it. And, how to keep that happiness for yourself into eternity. Let's see Google do that!"

Huggins explores deep philosophical enigmas, and The Power of Wow! provides many pictures to explain them. There is even an answer to the age old question, "Is it appropriate to pray while masturbating?" Though controversial, Huggins writes, "If you are masturbating, first, and you happen to think of God...this is acceptable since we should be encouraged to maintain union with God in all of our activities. However, it remains inappropriate during prayer time to masturbate; our full attention should be dedicated to the act of prayer at those moments."

The Jim Huggins’s The Power of Wow! Pack comes complete with picture book, quote of the day, 60 day supply of happiness placebo pills and an honest Huggins guarantee, "My book offers you solutions, quickly...we're not going to offer you empty promises like so many others. I won't show you how to make all the money in the world...but I will show you how to make enough to buy happiness."

The Power of Wow!, vol. I, 200pp, plus XXXI-page introduction; indexed; $18.99 is available from Venal & Sons publishing house.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Raw Round 1

I'm on the internet for the first time in my life...My first raw appearence. Not the best delivery of my material, but flattering.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Creepy laughs on public transit

One of my bigger fears in life is that I will come across as a creepy character when we meet. It could be on the train or tram, brief encounters with flashing eyes, or breathing too heavily in the supermarket amongst the beef-steak tomatoes next to fresh lettuce varieties. My anxieties and fears compound matters and deep seeded Fear may well be the cause of the clichéd "self fulfilling prophecy."

But what happened on the train yesterday surpassed what my fearful imaginings could ever have conjured. This was the realm of the Devil's conspiring.

For my creative craft, Stand-up Comedy, I have a recording device that doubles as an MP3 player. It can record both my voice and MP3 files, which I can choose to listen to with headphones or via speakers. And I was quietly listening to Mitch Hedberg on the train with my headphones.

Sometimes my friends and I record odd sounds or conversations, one liners from movies we like. Once, my mate, Bill, recorded heavy pornography unbeknownst to yours truly so that when I thought I'd be listening to a new comedy act, filthy porn played instead.

But none of this mattered on the packed train before the incident unfolded.

I was lost in my Mitch Hedberg world, chuckling aloud at intervals proportional to his laconic delivery. Then, all of a sudden, the fear kicked in. I perceived that no one else could hear the comedy that brought me so much audible glee. And I realized, "Wait, this looks creepy." And I chuckled at the realization that I shouldn't be laughing out loud to myself in this public arena.

So I panicked. Standing up to pull the recording device from my pocket, I instead accidentally pressed the skip button. Just then, Bill's porn started to play. This startled me; my jerked head was enough of a force to pull the headphones out of their socket, and a high pitched, low quality voice was heard screaming, "Fuck my dirty pussy."

It was loud enough for the passengers to assume that I had been laughing to myself...all the while silently listening to pornography on a public train.

Just as I became a creep in front of all the other public trainies eyes... an antagonist more loathed and less acceptable than the first time smack-head who pukes his guts out on the Epping line...just then, I dropped the recording device under a seat. The seat was blocked by a pram, inclusive of mother and child.

And as the train pulled up to next depot, a policeman entered, while I asked the mother to move her pram so that I could retrieve the device. With impeccable timing, the child in the pram tweaked her head and asked the natural question, "What does fuck my dirty pussy mean?"

Weather she asked her mother or the police officer is a debate up to some speculation. But I am assured that it will all be settled in court.

Dick the Horse

Like a Confederacy of Dunces, the masses all too often back the wrong names at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. We get lured into the comedy tent and find ringmasters and clowns, passing by the real gold that Melbourne was built upon just beneath our feet. This year at the comedy festival, if you want to convulse with laughter rather than grimace and wince at hackneyed has-beens, check out DICK THE HORSE productions.

Having launched his comedy production company, DICK THE HORSE, ADAM HILLS is in a unique position for a comedian these days. Earning accolades in the UK, Canada, the US and Australia alike, the “Spicks and Specks” host is now extending his focus to fostering the talent of others. And we will all benefit!

Why will we all benefit? Let us remember to include Stand-up Comedy under the heading of Show Business; and Show Business is both a compound word and a complex arena. There are venues and halls to be hired, tickets to be sold, posters printed for promotion, radio commercials, and light technicians to be paid…the financial burden alone can crush the creative energy from a comedian before he or she even takes the stage. Meanwhile, talentless hacks and waning has-beens garner financial knowhow and steal the spotlight from the lifeblood of comedy…the new creative talent, who remain waiting in the undergrowth, hoping somehow to breakthrough.

Thanks to HILLS’ production company, there are at least two fresh acts stepping into the spotlight at the 2009 Melbourne Comedy Festival. DICK THE HORSE shows are have been specifically selected and stamped with approval.

ADAM VINCENT is rearing to break through this year. Quirky and sardonic, VINCENT is a personal favorite of comedians around the local circuit. He pulls chuckles out of your mouth like a dentist pulls teeth; it hurts, but it’s for your own benefit. He illuminates the darker side of comedy and provides insight into depression, suicide, homeownership, marriage and success. VINCENT recreates for the audience his skewed view of life, which is like walking through a door marked pain, and when you get to the other side you find laughter that hurts so good it makes you cry. And ultimately, it’s delivered with compassion. You must see ADAMLAND by ADAM VINCENT! You will feel the laughs the day after.

HANNAH GADSBY is the second act scooped up by DICK THE HORSE. Why? Because she is a natural talent. Only three years into her career, GADSBY humbly has amassed a stockpile of Critic’s Choice awards and festival accolades. Imagine her nonchalantly piling trophies in the boot of her car, and turning around as the biggest comedy circuits on Earth beg her attendance. And she accepts these scenes with a Chaplinesque simplicity! Calm and dry, GADSBY maintains a dignified poise on stage as she recounts with wry wit her Tasmanian childhood, where she grows up, “A little bit lesbian and accident-prone,” with a slightly homophobic mother, misogynistic and distrustful of physicians. KISS ME QUICK I’M FULL OF JUBES is GADSBY’S return to the Melbourne Comedy Festival after winning last year’s coveted Moosehead Award, and being deemed Triple J’s RAW winner in 2006. See her show it will make you guffaw.

Go ahead. See something new this year! You laughs will be deep and hearty, and in a few years’ time, you can brag that you saw them before they got big.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Differences I now know

"Let's Talk Strine." There are the subtle linguistic things...for example, I noticed how all of your Mexicans speak Chinese. Of course, this makes ordering a taco quite the predicament. And one early situation with Chinese-break dancers nearly came to blows because I thought someone would surely nun chuck me. Boy did I feel foolish when I realized that perhaps my thorough understanding of eastern culture...based entirely on 1970's Bruce Lee films...was inadequate.

Then there are the stark differences, including my favorite thing about Australia that can be found in St. Kilda...and I'm not so sure if it is the quality so much as the purity of that town's heroin is second to none! So, when mum calls to ask how my trip to Australia is coming along, I can honestly reply, "Golly-Gee, Mum. On the whole, it's great! The heroin is here is exquisite, but you can't find a decent taco anywhere!"

Then, of course, there are the cliché linguistic differences. In particular, there is the rising inflection that so many comedians talk about...most cultures only ask questions with a rising inflection, but Australians question that technique by making a statement with it. "Fair Dinkum, mate?"

Of course, I now understand that Fair Dinkum is a, "filler phrase." It's not even a rhetorical question. But the rising inflection is confusing for the newly acquainted to Australia. For many months I somehow presumed you were asking me to be on some type of Panel of Dinkum Judges. I assumed the Judges of Dinkum determined if something is Fair or Unfair Dinkum. Boy, was I red in the face when I learned the truth. I now know that every Dinkum is a Fair Dinkum!

"Yeah-nah," and "Look" are two other Australian "filler phrases" that can confuse the newly appointed Judges of Dinkum. I assumed "yeah" to be colloquial for "yes" and "nah" colloquial for "no." I couldn't have been wronger. "Yes" and "No" are words that mean the opposite of one another, clearly. "Yeah-nah" means, "I don't want to say yes and sound cocky nor do I need to say no at this moment in time so I will just waste a sentence with a word that means nothing at all but keeps conversation flowing."

"Look," on the other hand is confusing as a "filler phrase" because of its positive/neutral connotations in Australia. In the United States, sentences that begin with "Look..." usually end badly. For example, "Look...we need to break up..." or I've often heard it used as such, "Look...Mr. Bulman, the court rules in favor of the prosecution and you are not to come within 50 feet of her known whereabouts."

In Australia, "Look..." is used if I ask someone where the supermarket is...and it's harmless. "Look, mate, you want to go down this street and make a right and go through the car park. You can't miss the Safeway. G'day." Because I've been conditioned to it's negative connotations, including the sound of police sirens, I often ran away at the start of the sentence. I've stopped this now.

Thanks, affirmative and neutral "Lookers"...These are some of the differences I now know.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Tactical Argument

Tactical Argument

Have you ever argued with someone when you know you will lose because you don’t have any "facts"? And while wisdom would dictate that you should concede, you get sucked into the debate and make it very personal. Before you know it, you can’t stop arguing because of one fact that you use as a trump card: You are better than them.

So, being crafty, you decide to use some tactics…intimidation and aggression are the first line of defense. You say something choice, both heavily opinionated and laden with self-righteousness, “Look, I don’t who you think you are, JUDGE…”

The word “JUDGE” will do funny things to a person. It tends to bring you back to reality, and, somehow, the courtroom. Reminded that while you may not have any facts, the prosecution does. Their facts are called “evidence’ and are referred to as Exhibit A, B and so on and so forth. Furthermore, these facts manifest as witnesses and videotape.

You immediately adjust your tactics, reverting from a passionate spirit to a misguided form of logic. Certain that you can use the evidence against them, you say, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, while the prosecution would have you believe that I am standing there… “Naked”…in public… you can clearly see from Exhibit A that I am wearing shaving foam smothered on my balls.”

The phrase “shaving foam smothered on my balls” will do funny things to a person. Met by the courtroom’s silent, empty stares you once again adjust your tactics…both of them. You seek refuge in humor.

“I’ll tell you what…if you could have been there to hear the laughter coming from my friends, it nearly drowned out the screams of shock and horror coming from the children.”

About now it slowly dawns on you that you might never teach kindergarten again…so you decide to move to Australia and pursue stand-up-comedy. It really is the same old story, isn’t?

***I use the previous story to answer the question, “So, why did you move to Australia?”

Artist Bio

Like a circus-trained monkey on fire, Matt Bulman is complex and glorious to watch. A surrealist comedian, writer and humorist, Bulman combines science with linguistic-comedy to create a post-ordinary word: "sciomedy". It is a colloid.

This man is a graduate of Temple University, Philadelphia, where he acquired a B.A. in English and a heavy drinking problem. Though successfully returned to sobriety, he has been unable to return his English degree. And, do to unforeseen economic conditions and climate change, the world's English companies currently have a hiring freeze. Therefore, Bulman performs stand-up comedy, and his style is an amalgamation of Steve Martin, Mitch Hedberg and Arj Barker compacted in a blender with Steven Hawking and his legion of body-robots. He currently performs around Melbourne, gigging regularly at The Local, Spleen, MIB and The Comic's Lounge.

Bulman's writing employs some of the very best nouns and adjectives into permutations that are highly interesting to watch. Fans of Woody Allen, Edward Albee, S.J. Perelman and Kurt Vonnegut will hopefully like Bulman, too.

He aims his satire at the religion of science. He currently questions our medical leaders, particularly Drs. Parkinson, Hodgkin and Alzheimer; all supposed healers who have chosen to name diseases after themselves, never the cure. In fact, Bulman can't think of any cures named after scientists. If he discovered some disease or virus, he would only name it after himself if it were something positive, like a virus that ate AIDS. That way, when future generations remembered him, they could say, "He really built up our natural immunity to things; Bulman was like the opposite of AIDS. He did a lot of good pro-bono work in Africa by having casual intercourse in a seemingly half-hazard manner...saved a lot of lives!"

Bulman's work can be read on his regularly updated blog: and he can be contacted for gigs at

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Acceptance Speech

Acceptance speech

If ever I win an award, something where I receive accolades and recognition in a public forum, I will surely have to give the following speech:

Thank you! Where do I begin.... well, first I'd like to thank God, without whom, according to some sources, there simply never would have been a beginning.

And just in case there is no God, I'd like to thank the very loud noise, bang, without whom, according to some sources, there simply never would have been a beginning.

And furthermore, I'd like to thank mythology and the art of story telling, without whom, surely, we would have neither religion nor science, let alone the linear narrative structure known as a beginning.

"Tonight, I dedicate this ___________ Award to all of the Homeless Children of (insert local city name) and the world at large (Nod, say, "Thank-You", and await applause. When applause comes, say, "Please, I don't know why you are clapping. They are homeless. That hardly deserves plaudits.") This is for you Tiny Timmy, Jamal and lil' Kimberly! And I'm donating a full...1/3rd of the money that would ordinarily go to tax to a tax-shelter named for them!

While traditionally it's been said that humility is the only quality which one can't boast about, I'd like to break from tradition tonight. The word hero is often bandied about, Willy-Nilly, and while I don't want to call myself a hero, I do want to acknowledge those who use that language to describe my actions...especially all of the work I do with the homeless children of (insert SAME city name...get this right!) and the world at large.

And while you might be thinking, "This humble hero is pretty special, and I can see why we'd give him the _____________ Award rather than some other schmuck like (Insert name of competitors and colleagues who are real pricks). And to those of you who describe me heroically, I say to you, "I'm no hero...Tiny Timmy, Jamal and lil' Kimberly are the real heroes here...and their story must be told to the world (bite fist, choke, and feign tears). Which is why at the Tiny Timmy, Jamal and lil' Kimberly center, we are going to be adapting from my novel, "Homelessness, the musical," a version suitable for cinemas across the country. And we will use REAL homeless children in the filming of Homelessness, the musical. So get ready America. Tonight we begin a new chapter in our story, eternity... (Slowly walk backward, waving to silenced audience as you depart stage left).

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Valentine's Day

Kristen smiles as I pivot around and behind, blindfolding her as I say, “Ok, now get in the trunk of the car.”


“Reeeelax,” I say, still circling around her and wrapping her torso in my arms. “Do you trust me or not? Now get in the trunk.” I gesture with my head to suggest a matter-of-factness about the request.

“Ohhhhkayeee.” She is understandably nervous. We met three weeks prior, and I recently explained to Kristen only that our Valentine’s Day would require a swim-suit. I could understand her trepidation, but this understanding was overruled by what I had recently downloaded from “how-to” manual for dating from the In this users manual I learned that women, in a primal sense, require a sense of adventure! So I tactfully prepped her for a beach-holiday so that the impact of our canoe trip would really gob-smack her.

So the trunk of my 1985 Honda Civic pops and the air-pump windscreen makes the steamy, Back-To-The-Future sound one instinctively associates with a Delorian.

“Aw, fuck-me!” I often swear when I neglect the obvious in life.

“What is it?” She reaches toward her blindfold as if to remove it.

“No, don’t look. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

What happened is that yours truly forgot to unpack the trunk. A set of wrenches and a tire iron and some genuinely clanky, metallic junk is now making an awful racket as it piles up in the blacktop of the parking lot. She was straight lipped and tense in the shoulders, but like the good Christian trooper that she is, she doesn’t budge the blindfold. I don’t know how romantic it seems. It’s starting to cross over to the realm of creepy. But I continue lest time get the better of my plans garnered from the internet.

You must believe me that there are no ill feelings here. I am not trying to injure, neglect, or harm Kristen. I just want to surprise her on our white water canoe trip. It’s not far from home, and I’d like her to giggle as she recounts the story to her friends later that week. And it would force her to say, “So he blindfolds me and says, “Now get in the trunk of the car.””

And I think that is a genuinely, funny sentence.

Besides, I figure, I am just driving around the corner to the Fairfield Boathouse. Five minutes…tops… and we’re laughing about it! But the motorcycle cop sees me make an illegal right-hand turn prior to the train tracks and I am forced to pull over.

I’m not nearly about to spill the beans to the motor-cop. “Guess what I got in the trunk, officer? Nope. Not even close, sir! Guess again…it’s a BODY!” Hardly an option.

We make it out of the cop situation ok. Nervous, but ok. Poncho hops back on to his motorcycle and drives away.

Kristen is noticeably disturbed by the time we get to the Boathouse. The summer sun compounded by extra-time in the trunk allow the heat to build up something suffocating and awful. That steamy sound of the Delorian is now punctuated by Kristen’s creative swearing. She erupts from the trunk and is kicking my tibias and swinging her right fist into my left humorous.

“Do you think this is funny, Matt? It was like a sauna in there!”

I try to smile and make a joke of the situation, “Where’s your sense of adventure? And who told you that you could remove your bandana? It’s going to ruin the surprise.”

Kristen starts to walk away and I chase after her.

“Look, it was a joke that went wrong Chiquita. I’m sorry. You can put me in the trunk of the car for 20 minutes to get even.”

She starts to come around, and her stern face cracks with a smile and the tension is released with laughter. “You’re fucking loco, you know?” Kristen is not Puerto Rican, nor am I. But with the bandana around her forehead and her swim-suit on…her wild, flailing punches as I try to calm her down…my low-rider, second-hand, sparkly-polished 1985 Honda Civic…all followed by a kiss in the sun…we could have been Puerto Rican together and it would have somehow made sense.

After a brief embrace I say, “Are you ready for your Valentine’s Day adventure? Trust me, you’ll like it!”

We walk down to the boathouse and rent a red paddleboat canoe. I don’t listen to the instructions the man gives to me. He is saying, “Paddle up-stream, if you go down stream you will quickly hit rapids that are not suitable for beginners.”

I nod confidently, affirming instructions that I have not digested. We set the two-person canoe into the water and kneel down in the more easily than I anticipated. We paddle down stream. “This is going quite well,” I think to myself.

“NOT THAT WAY, MATE.” The boathouse man is waving his arms.

Assuming that I initially grasped the paddle incorrectly backwards, I say, “Thanks, Mate!” I then flip the paddle around and tell Kristen to do the same. “We must have put the paddles in backwards…doesn’t seem to do too much differently, though!”

The roar of water is barely audible, heard like a trickle in a different room, and I say to Kristen, “Are you excited?”

“Are we going the right way, Matt?”

“Yeah, it’s just ahead…you know Kristen…I brought you here because you’re special- “

“-Matt,” she interrupts, “I think we were supposed to paddle up-stream.”

“No, we’ll go with the current to warm up the muscles…” I rotate my traps and delts backward, shaking my neck like a pro-boxer. “If we paddle up stream right away we might strain a muscle since our upper-bodies aren’t used to paddling.”


“Kristen, trust me…” we round a bend in the river and the canoe gains velocity. I speak more loudly, “Kristen, as I was saying, I brought you out here to tell you that you’re special. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.” I’m looking over my left shoulder as I speak, neglecting the sight ahead.

I have to speak much more loudly now to compete with the small waterfall ahead. I am shouting, “GETTING TO KNOW YOU HAS BEEN SUCH A SWEET PLEASURE.” A warm and genuine smile peaks through my lips, and, still swiveling back to glance at her, as if to kiss her gently with my lips, I yell over the roar of the rushing water, “I LOVE YOU KRISTEN! I’M FULLY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND-“ I glimpse the small waterfall ahead of us and panic.

Ten meters in front of the small waterfall, I’m forced to scream, “I LOVE YOU, BUT WHEN I SAY PADDLE, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PADDLE LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT! GO FOR THE HOLE.”

According to the local papers and the police report, we did everything wrong. Kristen attempted appropriate navigation toward the hole. I seemed to counter-paddle, forcing us sideways toward the small, highly-unmanageable waterfall. Boy, we must have looked rather silly as we toppled sideways over those rocks!

There are moments I remember…certain boulders against my head, others in a specific area of my spine, which I later learned is called the, “Lumbar Region,” made known to me from the helpful doctors at the local Emergency Room. And Kristen, who threw her arms around me to end that Valentine’s Day in a warm, loving embrace as she swam us to the riverbank’s edge.

There is nothing sweeter than awakening to your lover’s puckered lips on Valentine’s Day…then vomiting water as you gasp for the first fresh taste of oxygen...According to the very same helpful Doctors at the local emergency room, what I now refer to my second-birthing experience occurred only, “Seconds prior to permanent brain-damage.”

I’m told by the authorities that Kristen is doing quite well these days, and I am, “Not to contact her, or come within 50 meters of her known whereabouts.” The Judge has made it very clear that one more infringement would carry serious consequences.

To this I replied, “Relax, your honor, do you trust me or not?”

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

My first sexual experience, a story

Once upon a first sexual experience involved vast quantities of alcohol and a heavy girl named Sarah. I remember chatting her up as I cracked open a can of cheap beer. She was friendly, and I must have thought her to be very comfortable and fluffy-looking...Like a Muppet.

I asked her, "Why aren't you drinking? Are you, 'On the Wagon?'"

"No," she replied, and then without skipping a beat, added, "Lithium."

"OH! My Dad's on Lithium," and we were off and chatting. We smoked cigarettes and then groped each other, kissing and rolling around a wet grassy patch upon a suburban hill. She manipulated herself upon me and I was the lucky recipient of a crude handjob. I then spent the night vomiting.

She owned a car and drove me to different parties where neither of us were really welcomed; I was inevitably drunk; There were many handjobs; I always puked.

At 16 or 17, I often denied having any memory of the situations; only occasionally was this the truth. A more enlightened view is that I was powerless in any attempt to avoid her, handjobs, or the drink. On several occasions I even awoke from a blackout where vomit and semen covered the sheets. It was a real chicken-or-the-egg debate in my head...

Many years my beer became cheaper and my vomit seemed to be more more accepted by my female companions, I dated another girl named Sarah, the 2nd. I feel horrible about my behavior during my relationship with Sarah, the 2nd, especially in regards to its ending. I am not proud of this, but I left her after I learned that she was diagnosed with Down Syndrome.

Fair enough. I should not have been fucking a retard. I realize this in hindsight. But hindsight, really, is 20/20. And I feel as though I did the stand-up thing: I got out of there as soon as I learned that she was pregnant. I recall with great clarity that I said to her friend, "No way can I be a that thing!"

So, I went right up to Sarah, the 2nd, and told her, "Tharah!" (because she did not have the "thpecial" ability to pronounce the letter "S") I said, "Tharah, it's over!"

And then I ran away.


Monday, February 9, 2009

Serendipitous genetic mutations

I remember with perfect clarity turning to a classmate, Tim, and saying, "There is nothing this neuroscience teacher can fail to teach me that I couldn't fail to learn on my own."

I am not particularly adept with science. And, sure, some of my classmates in medical school can remember more "facts" than me. But when it comes to reproducing those same facts in a slightly different order or, perhaps, completely reconfigured...I'm your man.

I first began to question my future medical career while debating the fundamental elements in organic chemistry. Several classmates backed carbon as the universal element which bound together many of human-kinds molecular back-bone; I had to pipe in, "Woh...aren't we all forgetting about the universal power of the little forgotten element called FIRE?"

The remark was welcomed with smirks, but I was asked to leave when I started to shout at our Chemistry professor, calling him, "A Sorcerer of black-magic."

I passed Chemistry, though I hardly ever believed in their spells and alchemical equations.

I did not have such luck in Physiology, where I answered one of the final essay questions, "While much is yet to be understood about the renal system, we can safely say that the kidneys, quite simply, work by magic."

And I formed certain hang-ups against Anatomists and Physiologists, whose discoveries revealed an inherently pompous nature. I imagined, time and again, the scenario that led a coworker to proclaim aloud, "Golgi! You might be on to something with your apparatus!"

Yet the moment I realized I might have to find an outlet for my mind's creative flights of fancy arrived during a radiology lecture. Our teacher made it quite clear that legally and morally, we should take great care to ensure that a fetus or neonate should never be exposed to Gamma Radiation. Yet it occurred to me to employ the scientific form of skepticism.

"Jo," I said. "What would be the likelihood, in strict to speak...that exposing a child to Gamma Radiation could cause him to run with lightening-speed, achieve super human strength or powers of flight?"

Shortly thereafter I was asked to leave medical school. But once again, I draw on that epiphany uttered to the more adept classmate, Dr. Timothy Leary, "Sir, There is nothing they could fail to teach me in medical school that I couldn't fail to learn on my own."

Sunday, February 8, 2009

With All of the Banks Going Bankrupt and Being Consolidated, Who Do I Avoid Paying Back?

In Mathematics, The United States currently ranks 25th when compared to a list of 30 developed countries who take part in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. To add insult to injury, we originally thought we were 7th, but upon review, it turns out that we forgot to "carry the 1" -on two different occasions - when tallying our rank. This mistake was quickly pointed out by children from Finland, China, Korea, Japan, Canada, Australia and, really, almost every other country involved in the study.

This bodes not well for our upcoming economics test in the United States. There is a very real danger that we lack the brain power to correct our wayward tendencies.

And, if you are anything like me, then you already have an unmanageable amount of "potential earnings" tied up in future student loan repayments. Like me, it may have already cost you your first born. Which leaves us in this very real predicament: in these trying economic times, we are all left with the one question, "How much will a white baby sell for these days, anyway?"

"Not much," is the answer supplied by children from Finland, China, Korea, Japan, Canada and Australia.

But there remains a glimmer of hope! When the same question was asked to children from the United States, they repeatedly gave a black-market value of "1 or 2 Gabillion dollars, each." And, while a "Gabillion" is not yet a number, or even a word, hope springs eternal in our some of our world's most powerful and stupid children.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Our current medical leaders are naming diseases after themselves

I have a theory that when most people say they have a theory, they really only have a hypothesis. I call it "Bulman's Theory of Theory vs. Hypothesis". When elevated to the status of Law, I will call it "Bulman's Law of Theory vs. Hypothesis".

I am just waiting on the scientific community to get back to me on my proposal. And they are taking their time to get back to this maverick...perhaps because when I proposed the theory, I had eaten a large quantity of Acid. Now, I don't take LSD any more and learned the hard way that I can't handle the sound that certain colours taste.

And now that I have ceased my LSD experimentation I have returned to the realm of normal...but perhaps a little quirkier. Allergic to things like: Purple.

But while the scientific community thinks I'm weird, I propose to you that they are the oddities. For example, what kind of sick egos are required to uncover diseases, viruses or congenital, debilitating cancers, and then deliberately choose to name the diseases after themselves?

Dr. Hodgekin nearly came to blows with his fellow, Dr. non-Hodgekin, over the discovery of a similar, yet entirely different type of Lymphoma. Oh, they had words...believe you me, my friends. Dr. non-Hodgekin's final words were, "Well, it's certainly not of the Hodgekin variety."

If I discovered a disease, then I'd only name it after myself if the patient were lucky to have contracted it in the first place. The physician could smile as he brought the good news and said, "Sir, how fortuitous. You are not going to believe your luck! It's as though you've developed immunity to every known STI on Earth. It's as though you have have anti-AIDS, or Bulman's syndrome."

"Like that Theory guy?" the patient would ask.

"The very same," the doctor will say. And perhaps he'll add, "Except it's Bulman's Law now."

That is because I want to be remembered on my tombstone as, "Bulman...he had this Theory and he was like the opposite of AIDS."

Our current medical system is naming diseases after its leaders. In some cases, such as Alzheimer, the founder is both remembered and forgotten for his discovery. All too often the following phrase is repeated by the physician: "Sir, you are not going to remember what you have." Sometimes, it's repeated to the same patient on several different occasions.

What we should be doing is naming diseases after our nemeses, villains, dictators. That way, the person would really appreciate the gravity of the situation.

"Is it bad, Doctor?"

"Well, sir, they certainly don't call it Hitler Cancer for chuckles. It's the most aggressive cancer we know of. It wiped out a lot of Europe and has spread rapidly into you. I'd say it's pretty bad."

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Bulman's theorem: Fair or Unfair Dinkum? You be the Judge...

G'day Australia!

Bulman's theorem: (Good) X (Day)/100= G'day. Stated less mathematically, if we let English be Algebra, then "Good" multiplied by "Day", divided by 100 equals "G'day." Thus, "oo" cancels out and the math-magical apostrophe demonstrates its amazing capabilities. Ah, don't forget to double-check your contractions!

(Along with some more money, America would like to borrow your apostrophe and apply both to the national debt!)

If you're Aussie, you might very well be thinking to yourself, "Is Bulman's Theorem Fair Dinkum?" Well, no one is quite sure for certain. Bulman's theorem could be a Fair Dinkum, but it could just as easily be an Unfair Dinkum. I'm really not sure that I have the qualifications necessary to discern between the two. Yet, if I interpret your thoughts correctly...and I believe I am...then when your people ask me if something is, "Fair Dinkum," I am being asked to be on some type of panel. And once on this panel, I get to be one of the few, the proud, the Judges of Dinkum. Yet what if I choose wrong? Will the other Judges remove me from the Dinkum panel?

And who else is a Dinkum Judge? What do they wear? It seems to be the guy in the cork hat with the tiny little shorts on that allows his penis to hang out like a nozzle from his distended, fat belly- as though it were filled with air- but his belly is not filled with air. It's filled with beer. And anger..., which he takes out on his wife as he beats her, which, ironically, is an infringement of Fair Dinkum and could be, quite possibly, Unfair Dinkum. Only the Judges of Dinkum can really rule on that scenario.

I know one thing is for certain...the Judges of Dinkum often are heard singing their criers-call, jug-jug, jug-jug, followed by the phrase, "This Dinkum Judging Business is EASY AS! No Worries from the Dinkum Judges...all is Fair Dinkum."

But I submit to you, dear judges, that all is not well if you repeatedly utter the phrase, "Easy as." For if you do so, you end yourself in the middle of a simile. And when I was a kid growing up, sitting around the dinner table...In America...we were taught to finish our similes because there are starving people, in CHINA, who can't afford to speak any English whatsoever. Yet you're going to scrap a perfectly good simile like that. And I may only be the new guy on this panel, but I must rule that as an Unfair Dinkum!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Obesity: It could get big around here

Many are the diseases one could choose whilst attempting to describe the American people today, yet none so captures the essence of America like the spreading epidemic, Obesity. For it is obesity alone that fully allows our people to live to the maximum capacity what the Founding Fathers envisaged as the American dream: a society where people literally embody both mass-production and mass-consumption, simultaneously.

Obesity is a controversial topic for a comedian to explore because it’s half the potential audience these days. The extra-half.

Yet, if half of the world simply walked half of its food to the other half, which is currently starving, most of the world’s problems could be solved.

But do we do that? No. Instead, we say, "Here, hefty, eat this pill!"

And to the part of Earth that is starving, we say, "Sorry…don’t really have much in the way of money or food at the moment. Seem to have lost it gambling on the stock market. But we do have these extra guns at mate's rates. Would guns help?"

If I were a Doctor I’d prescribe more coffee. Fair-trade coffee, of course. I'd say to patients...surely seven or eight times a day... "Have you considered coffee? Up your coffee intake, Hefty. The worst that could happen is you do nothing, but much more quickly. And, perhaps, in a slightly more intense fashion. And given what danger your body is in from cardiovascular disease, cancer, arthritis and diabetes.. some extra anxiety wouldn’t be such a bad thing."

Sure, it has been suggested my solution would be a bad idea; but I had to correct the person's retort. You see, I’m an American, and we happen to be FULL of bad ideas. Bursting at the seems in fact!

Dr. Goodnews

This is a skit for sketch comedy...I hope it stands on its own...matthew


DR. GOODNEWS: (a Christian Doctor)

MR. SMITH: (a Patient)

SISTER MARY:(Office assistant, secretary)

SETTING: Dr. Goodnews Medical Clinic, patient room.
Mr. Smith sits on a chair in treatment room 1. Sister Mary and Dr. Goodnews are offstage.


Dr. Goodnews?

Good news?! What is it, Sister Mary?

It’s your sir-name, Goodnews.

Oh. Of course!

One of your regulars, Mrs. William’s, well, her husband has passed on a message. She’s dead. And your next patient, Mr. Smith, is in room 1, Dr. Goodnews!

That’s terrible news.

DR. GOODNEWS: (entering stage)
Mister (looking down at chart) Smith, I’m Dr. Goodnews…what can I do for you today?

(Nervouse) Yes, Doctor Goodnews, I came down with the worst pain yesterday (grabs head). My girlfriend and I were laying together on the ground and putting together a jigsaw puzzle when it started.

(Looks at Elbow) Sounds to me like someone’s come down with a classic case of Puzzler’s Elbow!

The pain is not in my Elbow, Dr. Goodnews.

Puzzler’s Knee then!

No, it’s a headache. The pain is in my head. I was thinking a migrane of some sort. (grabs head again and rubs).

(Still looking at elbow) Interesting…I’ve never had a case of puzzler’s elbow that referred all the way to the head. Hmmm. One moment…

(Goes to Bench, flips through) We’re going to have to Bible it!

(Incredulous) The Holy Bible?

Atta boy! It’s like Googling, but straight to the source.

What are you talking about? Don’t you want to perform any tests?

Hey, if you want sciencey type stuff, I suggest you take your puzzler’s elbow elsewhere. But if you want answers, quickly, I’m your man. With the Big Guy on our side, we’ll get you sorted.

Can’t you just give me some sort of pill?

(starts to write script) Well, there is one medication we’ve had success with…it’s a myrrh derivative…

(angry) Isn’t there something less… Bibly. This Fucking headache is tearing the ass out of me!

(Handing him the script) I’m not sure if you’ve heard the Goodnews…Who’s the Dr. here, Mr. Smith? I’m here to get you better, not feed some drug addict’s addiction. These placebo pills are choc-full of curing agents. Blessed by the Pope himself.

This is fucking ridiculous!

No, what’s ridiculous is your potty-mouth. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the Goodnews is saying good day to you, Sir. Don’t forget to pay Sister Mary at the desk…and for this week only, upgrade to our prayer-mail list $49.95.

Pray for me? Placebo pills? That’s hardly a fucking treatment plan.

(Snidely) We could pray against you…have a little bit of the-old -timey prayoffs in a battle for your soul, eh? You up for that? I didn’t think so. Trust me, $49.95 is a deal…Those are Jesus’ mates rates!

(Exits stage)

(pressing button to front desk) Sister Mary?

SISTER MARY: (still offstage)
Yes, Dr. Goodnews?

Good news? What is it? Did Mr. Smith upgrade to the prayer-mail list?

No, it’s your sir name. Goodnews. Mr. Smith has walked out without paying.

Oh. That’s terrible news. Sister Mary…if you would be a dear and remove Mrs. Williams from the prayer-mail list?