this is why Louis C.K. HATES clickbait

I mean, I’m guessing it’s pretty much the same reason why everybody hates clickbait?

There’s no content or anything with clickbait. It’s just to get clicks. Nobody likes clickbait, so why would Louis C.K.?

I didn’t do much research for this.. .I just kinda went on a hunch.


This article was written by Stu Melton, a NYC comedian and creator of ACN. You can find him on twitter @tellsjokes.

The featured image is a photo taken by David Shankbone.

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what’s up with dolphins?!

What’s up with dolphins?! Right?!?!? Are we on board with this? You better get on board cuz we’re on the dolphin hating boat and we’re going for a ride.

Why do so many people like dolphins? Huh?!

Especially, like, 6-12 year old girls.

Dolphins dominate the school supplies of 6-12 year old girls! Why?!

I wonder if they tried other animals first. Like, they put a gopher on a folder and it didn’t sell. So they put it on an orange background, but the gopher/orange combination didn’t work. And then they tried a dolphin with pink and for whatever reason it totally worked, even though dolphins are basically the gopher of the sea.

Do you think the school supply people were pissed when the naked mole rat worked out for Kim Possible? They were all like, “We tried that in the 90’s and nobody bought it!”

Do you think dolphins are obsessed with 6-12 year old girls? Like pedophilic dolphins? I DON’T THINK SO. Girls are weird! And friggin’ creepy. You should never like an animal that much.

 

…don’t even get me started on horses…

Neigh?! NEIGH?!?!

Why are you making that sound? Why must you whinny? YOU ARE NOT A POOH! Are you confused? There is only one animal who can winnie and it is a fictional gender questionable bear named Pooh.

You have hooves. Which are basically the closest to shoes that feet can get. But then you’re like “Oh no, I need special ‘horse shoes,’ which can only be used for 1) my feet or 2) a silly game that cowboys and weird old smelly men play.” You’re not special, horse. You don’t need special shoes.

What’s so great about horses?! Come on little girls, get a grip!

 

…don’t even get me started on unicorns

 

The featured image is a cartoon I drew in college.

bottle openers

Last year, my sister went to the Wimbledon tennis tournament. You know what that is? It’s a tennis tournament. And she brought me back a keychain bottle opener that says “Wimbledon” on it. Which essentially says, “I’m a douche who is prepared to party” which is redundant.

And last year when I graduated college, my mom got me an antique bottle opener, which was cool except I couldn’t use it because I didn’t have any antique bottles to open.

Now, my mom is moving away from my hometown. So, to commemorate the place where I spent the first 18 years of my life, she got me…a bottle opener! I don’t know what it is about me that makes my family think I really need to open bottles. They must think I just have thousands of unopened bottles stashed away in my apartment or something…

But this one is not just any bottle opener, because it has the name and the exact geographical coordinates of my hometown on it!

Which strikes me as the ultimate drunk survival kit. Because you can use it to open up all the beer you could ever want and it also says, “If found drunk and passed out, please return this person to 41.7947 degrees North and 88.0169 degrees West. Someone there will recognize him and will know what to do…even if they haven’t seen him since high school.”

If someone found me in that state, it would be like, “Wow! How’d you get all the way to New York City, fella?! These coordinates are in Illinois! This is gonna be one hell of an Uber ride.”

 

The featured image is the aforementioned bottle opener with the coordinates of Downers Grove, IL.

“i’m gonna go kill myself!”

If comedians have a bad set, they’re always like, “I’m gonna go kill myself!”

And then everyone is like, “HAAAAA! THAT’S THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD!!!!!!!!! SUICIDE IS HILARIOUS!”

Which I think is dumb. To me, it’s not funny to just say you’re gonna kill yourself. That’s not a well-written joke. I just feel like it should feel more hacky to other comedians by now. Like, if you want to have a mental disorder, then get more creative with it, right?

How about something like, “Man, there were so few laughs in this set that I’m gonna have PTSD!!! I know that’s a real thing that people actually have but I don’t care!!!”

Or, “This set was so bad, when I go home and my wife wants to have sex with me I won’t be able to get hard!”

Or, “After this I’m gonna go home and have me some bulimia so I can puke up all that shit I just ate on stage!!!”

 

The featured image is of One Court Square, also known as the Citigroup Building. It was taken down Jackson Avenue from The Creek and The Cave in Long Island City.

why are you all trying to be ghosts?

Not everybody thinks I’m funny.

When people boo me on stage, I’m just like, “Why are you all trying to be ghosts? Why are all these ghosts at my comedy show? This must be my demographic.”

They’re all like, “Booooo…Boooooo!” Shut up, ghosts. You’re dead. Because I killed you with my comedy. Because I’m so funny. I’m killing it up here.

 

The featured image shows The Grisly Pear on Macdougal Street – lots of shows there.

gentleman and a scholar

People are always complimenting guys saying, “He’s a gentleman and a scholar.”

Those are two things I’ve never wanted to be.

If I want to compliment someone, I say, “He’s a pimp and he runs a charity.”

That way, you can’t even be jealous of him. All you can say is, “He’s a great guy…he deserves all those hoes.”

 

 

The featured image was taken in the East Village. It’s a mural of Robin Williams, who was a gentleman and a scholar.

what if unicorns were real and one was like Francisco?

What if a unicorn just walked into a wall…and got stuck there. Forever. Do you ever think about that?

Like, I know unicorns aren’t real. But what if they were?

That means that they must have been evading us pretty darn effectively for thousands of years. So if they did exist, they’d have to be extremely brilliant, magical, and elusive creatures that have totally outsmarted us dumb humans.

So what if they did exist and there was one unicorn that was really, really stupid. And one day it just…walked into a wall. And got stuck there. And ruined it for all the other unicorns. Because a person found it and that’s how people found out that unicorns were actually real.

All the other unicorns would be like, “Francisco! What are you doing?! You’re freaking magical! We’ve been avoiding walls for thousands of years, Francisco! All you had to do was NOT walk into a wall. That was literally your only job…You can fly. And you don’t even have wings! How have you not mastered avoiding the wall?”

Well, I think about that a lot.

So, if you ever see a horse with its head against a wall like this:

Screen Shot 2015-12-16 at 4.25.41 PM

You better give that horse a little tug. You better give him a little tug, tug, tuggie-poo. And you better make sure your name isn’t Sir Charles Darwin, because you might have just discovered Kevin.

 

The featured image is a mural somewhere in Bushwick. If you liked this post, please like and share below! You can also follow the blog through Twitter, Facebook, or by joining my mailing list.

how to look like a serial killer

My room used to be all white with totally white walls, all white furniture, and white bed sheets. And I just recently realized that that is not normal.

So I called up my friend on the phone who is a photographer and I said, “Hey, why don’t you send me a picture so that I can put it up on my wall.”

So he sends me the picture, and I open it up and see that what he sent me is this giant print of…what looks like an empty, white room.

The only thing creepier than having a totally white room with all white walls and white furniture is having a totally white room with all white walls and white furniture, where the only thing on the wall is a picture of an empty white room.

Trying to seem less serial-killer-y, I decided to pin up my comedy notecards on the wall, too. Not that weird, right? After organizing them, I realized that all of the notecards are white as well. And they have the names of all my jokes on them. And the more you look, the weirder they sound, especially because you’d have no way of knowing why I wrote the phrases on these notecards without asking me.

“Make someone care about you?”

“Shower Ritual”

“Bill Cosby Cover”

“I think State Farm is there”

Normal people do not write these things on their wall.

I also acquired a new mattress. Not knowing what to do with my old one, I shoved it against the inner wall of my closet, thinking “Oh wow, I bet this would totally sound-proof the closet.”

Stop! Stop being a serial killer! How does being boring make me so creepy?! An all white room, one artsy photo, joke notecards, and a mattress are just boring things!

Maybe I should just embrace my inner serial killer and buy some tarps and an axe in preparation for my American Psycho-esque meltdown. The only problem is that I have no idea where they would sell axes in New York City.

You know, it really doesn’t make sense how having a really white room makes you seem crazy. It would just be way harder to clean when you do axe-murder someone. Just saying.

 

Greenwich Village Comedy club is in the heart of the West Village on Macdougal Street, just down the street from the Comedy Cellar. It’s where I’ve had my worst set: a grueling five minutes of complete silence. So it holds a special place in my heart. That’s what the featured image is about. If you liked this post, please like and share below! You can also follow the blog through Twitter, Facebook, or by joining my mailing list.

Christmas trees

Do you think Christmas trees know that they’re Christmas trees or one day a lumberjack just walks up to them and goes, “You’re going to die. For Jesus.”

And the tree is like, “What? But I had no previous religious affiliation heretofore!”

And the lumberjack is like, “Well, henceforth you do. Also, it’s the sixteenth century. That’s why we’re talking like this.”

It would suck to be a Christmas tree. You just live your whole life in Wisconsin with all your friends and then you die. All of you. At the same time.

And then you end up in someone’s living room and you’re like “What’s going on? I can’t feel my legs! How am I standing up right now?”

And then someone is just like, “Shhhhhhhhh…I’m gonna put Christmas lights on you. Trust me, it makes sense.”

And then you’re like, “But it’s the sixteenth century…Christmas lights haven’t been invented yet.”

The featured image shows the Empire State Building from I forget where. If you liked this post, please like and share below! You can also follow the blog through Twitter, Facebook, or by joining my mailing list.