Ladies and gentlemen, there may be nothing that bothers me more than when someone new in my life learns that I have roots in the Mennonite church, and then they invariably ask “so you’re Amish?”  It’s not that I have some sort of pride about my heritage, it’s just annoying.  It’s tantamount to the frequent question I get, “how long did it take you to grow that beard?”  It’s lame, people.

Seriously, if I have one piece of advice to give everyone in the world, it is this: never be the person who asks the first question that comes to your mind.  You have to know that whatever comes to your mind first is going to be, at least 99% of the time, the first thing that comes to everybody’s mind.  And really, how is it going to affect your life to know how long it took me to grow this beard?  Live your life, friend.  Grow your own beard and see how long it takes you.

But I’m getting off course here.  I was talking about being Mennonite.

I’ve always felt that the source of that shitty question I always get is that there really aren’t any Mennonite or Amish celebrities which people could use to differentiate between the two cultures, the two faiths.  Thankfully, Verne Troyer, of Surreal Life fame, has recently revealed that he grew up Amish!

Unfortunately, there still isn’t any Mennonite celebrity, so I’ll just use myself as the representative for the Mennos.  Here I present to you a side by side comparison of myself and Verne Troyer, may now the difference between the Amish and the Mennonites be clear.

Verne Troyer (Amish): Captured on film drunkenly peeing on a rug, while standing on motorized scooter.

Dan Friesen (Mennonite): Captured on film drunkenly peeing on a tree next to the 13^th hole of the Lake Of The Woods golf course.

Verne Troyer (Amish): Has a porno tape out on the market.

Dan Friesen (Mennonite): Has seen every porno tape out on the market, but has made none himself.

Verne Troyer (Amish): Can drive a horse and buggy.

Dan Friesen (Mennonite): Can sort of drive a stick-shift, but suspects that his recklessness with the throttle is doing some serious damage to the tranny.

Verne Troyer: (Amish): His parent make homemade apple butter.

Dan Friesen (Mennonite): His parents make him slightly uncomfortable to be talking about beating off so much on the internet.

Some of you may think this is something of an elementary analysis of the two faiths, and all of you people would be wrong.  This is really all you need to know about the Amish and the Mennonites.  Amish people pee in living rooms, make their own pornography, drive buggies, and make their own preserves.  Mennonites pee on golf courses, watch too much pornography but make none themselves, feel uncertain about their ability to drive, and feel a certain amount of shame about their art.

I certainly hope this clears things up, and from now on people can stop asking me how long it took me to grow my beard.

Now, a lot of you people out there like to talk about how stupid, and creepy, and out of touch, and “aspergers-esque” Glenn Beck is.  And I would have been right there with you, up until about ten minutes ago.

There’s no denying that Beck has a history of severe drug addiction (as he’s talked about it on multiple occasions), and an argument can be made that, now that he’s sober and doesn’t have drugs to excite him, he’s had to find something like sensationalism and fear-mongering to fill in that gap.  Some might say that he “gets high” on making people think that their lives are in serious, immediate danger and that only he himself has access to the truth that just might save the lives of their family.  Some might say that he is about as useful and as informative as a piss-drunk three-time loser who spends their entire life hurting everyone around them only to one day realize what they’ve done and cry crocodile tears, and that the only real difference between the two is that when the drunk cries, no one puts it on TV.  I am not one such person.

And here’s why: Glenn Beck is the only real, big, loud voice still screaming about the swine flu, or as people who want you to take the flu seriously call it, “the H1N1 virus.”  So many of you like to compare Beck’s tenacity and unwillingness to let go of a story to Nancy Grace’s still continuing coverage of the long-since-called-off hunt for Natalie Holloway; and you people are assholes.  Whereas Grace is just exploiting mild racism and parental impulses to create ratings, Glenn Beck is a hero who recognized that this was a story that had legs, regardless of what detractors, public response, or facts say about it.

Everyone knows that the way to tell if a disease is a serious threat or not is to ask yourself, “have any celebrities come down with this thing?”  If not, it’s clearly not that big a problem.  If so, you may have to take this outbreak a little more seriously than you have been.

Up until a couple days ago, no celebrities had really come down with the H1N1 virus.  There was talk about Ron Weasley catching a case, but that story never really developed.  Then, about a week ago, LA Galaxy Forward Landon Donovan contracted the dreaded plague.  And then, mere hours ago, it was revealed that Alvaro Uribe, the President of Colombia has a confirmed case of swine-pox.

Listen up, ladies and gentlemen: your lives are in serious danger, and the only person who is preaching the truth is Glenn Beck himself.  All you “always say quit” liberals need to get over your issues and hear the truth: swine flu is serious business.

If swine flu wasn’t the real deal, would the president of a country that’s less than 1/6^th the size of the US of A and an athlete who plays a sport that’s slightly less respected than The Real World/Road Rules Challenge (which is technically a sport, jerk) have caught it?  I think not.

It’s time to grow up and get your shit together.  Get out there, buy a gas mask and some duct tape, never talk to anyone face-to-face again (especially South American heads of state), and of course don’t forget to watch Glenn Beck, weeknights on FOX.  If you want to really assure your protection from the Swine Scourge, be sure to listen to Glenn Beck’s radio show as well.  It’s just too bad Senor Uribe wasn’t a fan of truthful conservative talk; it might have saved him from having to get a slightly painful shot or take a moderately sized pill.

In an interview with Larry King, our old friend and gum connoisseur Chris Brown did some spectacular PR work, working hard to repair his image after being sentenced to “clean stuff” as punishment for beating Rihanna.  It’s good to know that society works like a bad sitcom pitch; you commit a felony, you get to become the public’s maid.

Oh, and it bears mentioning that this is what he was wearing on the show:

Jesus; he looks like the gayest member of the Nation of Islam.  Wait, wait…I’m getting off track here.  Let’s refocus.

Chris Breezy had this to say:

“When I look at it now, it’s just like, wow, like, I can’t believe that that actually happened.”

I’m not entirely sure what the context of this quote is, but I can only assume that Chris is talking about allowing some Smurf version of Tucker Carlson to dress him for a national television talk show appearance.  Get it together Brown!

Hello, my dear friends and loyal Friesen Pointers.  I come to you today with good news, which may not be news to some of you.  I have officially launched my new podcast, The Worst of Both Worlds.

The show is conceived as a fun comedic conversation between myself, my co-host Ryan Beck, and a different guest each week.  It’ll also serve as the new home for my ever-popular Top Five (now Top Six) Lists, which it turns out are more fun when discussed.

We’re still working out the schedule of production here, so we may end up posting two episodes in a week, then nothing for two.  Or maybe we’ll get our shit together and do it how we’re supposed to and put out exactly one a week.  To paraphrase Enya, only time will tell.

Be that as it may, the website where you can find the podcast is http://www.friesenpoint.libsyn.com.  So far, we have three episodes up, which are as follows:

Episode 1: Ryan Beck, my roommates Swearngin and Fox, and I chat it up and discuss the Top Five Real World/Road Rules Challenge Cast Members.

Episode 2: Nick Gifts, Fox, and I get together to talk about knives.  The list in this episode was deemed not worth posting, so was edited out.

Episode 3: I was lucky enough to corral two of the premiere comedians in Columbia, Kyle Ayers and Brian Sturgill into my studio, where we basically just discuss food the whole show.  Included is the Top Six Subway Sandwiches List.

I hope that at least some of you will check some of these out, and if you like it, please help spread the word.  I’ve really appreciated all the support you’ve all given me over the last few years, and I hope we can take this next step together, or something else that sounds equally queer.

Thanks again, and happy listening.

As I mentioned earlier, I am fortunate enough to be involved in a sitcom project taking place here in Columbia, and the trailer for the first episode is now available on the Youtube.  It stars Caplee Spiller, Jason Rosenbaum, and myself (no weak links in that lineup), it is written and produced by Robert Rasmussen, and filmed and edited by Mark Nanneman.  It was a real kick filming this, and I assure you that if you don’t find the finished product funny, that’s an indication that you don’t know what funny is.

Without further ado, here is the trailer:

Hello there, children.  I know that I’ve been quite derelict in my blogging duties for some time now., and I have some solid excuses for you, four of which are true.  That’s right, one’s a lie.

1) I just finished up my college career, and making that final push took up a lot of my time.

2) I just moved, and for someone as lazy as me, that takes about a month or two of planning and gradual packing.  Plus, now that I’ve moved in, I don’t have internet access yet.  I’m actually writing this from my work place.

3) So much of my creative energy has been focused into the As Yet Unnamed Comedy Show, as well as a couple other projects I’ve been working on.  My friends Robert Rasmussen, Mark Nannaman, and Caplee Spiller are very motivated filmmakers here in town, and I’ve been fortunate enough to be involved in a number of video work they’ve been doing lately.  Once any of the finished products are online, you’ll see some quality stuff.  Finally, I’m putting together a podcast that, ideally, we’re going to start recording this week.  As it stands, the podcast will be called The Worst Of Both Worlds, and feature myself and my comedian friend Ryan Beck as the hosts with a rotating set of guests from Columbia’s burgeoning comedy and arts scene, as well as some frequent visits from my former roommate Nicky Gifts.  As soon as it comes together, you’ll be the first to know.

4) I was recently attacked by a bear, and though I survived, the bear ate my sense of humor and my right arm.

5) My dear friend Jason Rosenbaum has started a blog dedicated to karaoke, which just so happens to be a subject I know a lot about.  Not surprisingly, he’s asked me to be a contributor to the blog, and I’ve posted the first installment of my instructional series “How To Karaoke.”  The blog has been pretty good so far, so if you have any interest in music, karaoke, or jokes, I recommend you check it out.

Alright, that’s all for now.  I promise to get back to a more regular schedule in terms of my writing.  Much like the South, Friesen Point will rise again!

(The following post in no way intends to make fun of people who have died in tragic, but slightly comical situations.  I have nothing but sympathy for the such people, and their families, who must have to hear a lot of tasteless jokes made by far less funny and less classy people than me.)

Ladies and gentlemen, I come to you today a very confused man.  You see, about two weeks back, I began work on one of my world-famous Top Five Lists.  I understand that a lot of you are unfamiliar with my writing process, so it may be worthwhile to give you, my dear readers, a little glimpse behind the curtain into my creative world.

The work-flow goes something like this:

Day 1: Settle on topic for list.

Day 2-8: Really let the topic marinate in the ol’ bean.  Its never a good idea to go into one of these lists half-cocked.  There are definitive and irrefutable lists, after all, and it’s important that I put the requisite amount of effort into them.

Day 9-14: Write one list entry per day, spending a great deal of time fully articulating exactly why this thing deserves its spot on the Top Five.

As you can see, it’s a very involved process.  Anyone who knows Dan Friesen will tell you that he’s a man who has never cut a corner in his life.  His life motto is “no shortcut, no problem.”

I was on Day 11 of making my newest list, The Top Five Ways To Die, when the unthinkable happened.

Before I get into this, I should just say upfront that I knew going in that this was going to be a dark list, possibly my darkest list to date.  I didn’t see this as a problem, being as I am known in many circles as “Dan, The King of Postmodern Dark Humor,” a title I earned after penning the following joke: “Q: What did one gay zombie say to another zombie who he knew was also gay because he saw a red handkerchief hanging from his back pocket? A: Hey, you want to suck my dick, you gay zombie?”  As you can clearly see, I’ve got what it takes to handle this touchy subject matter with grace and tact.

Anyway, I was in the middle of writing this list.  I hade made it to #3: “Drowning In A Vat Of Chocolate,” when what should I stumble upon on CNN.com?  Try this headline on for size: US Worker Dies In Chocolate Vat.

Consider me spooked.  This was quite a coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.  At least that’s what I told myself at the time.

It took a couple of stiff bourbon and cokes to get my head back together, but once I did, I got right back to work on my list.

The next day, I tackled #2: “Driving A Car Off The Edge Of The Grand Canyon,” and wouldn’t you know it, some guy drove his fucking car off the Grand Fucking Canyon that day!

The word “spooked” doesn’t begin to describe how I felt reading that story.  I have long known that I have the ability to create laughter with my words, but I had no idea that the Grim Reaper was such a huge fan of my Top Five Lists that he was out to provide me with fresh examples of each admittedly bizarre and unlikely entry for this list.  While I appreciated his readership and initiative, holding the power of life and death in my hands is a lot of pressure.  I mean, there’s no doubt that these were a couple of kick-ass deaths, but I hate to think that any responsibility for these passings rests with me.  Mostly because I don’t want any blood on my hands; I washed my hands twice already this week, I’m not up for going for the hat trick.

As such, I’ve decided to bequeath my “Postmodern Dark Humor” Crown.  Too much blood has been shed so that I might make a few death jokes.  From the point forth, I’m going to keep it clean.  In fact, I’m so committed to this goal that I’m not even going to tell you what #1 was.  I will say that #5 was “Bleeding Out After Getting Your Dick Bit Off By A Hot Vampire Chick.”

See what you can do with that, Grim Reaper.

When we last left our heroes, Big Time Hollywood Director Barry Sonnenfeld and self-proclaimed “best actor of this generation/golden god of the soundtrack game” Will Smith had been kicked out of their respective homes by their respective wives, thus leading them to decide to move in together.  Today’s transcript picks up pretty much where the last one left off.

For those of you just joining the party, do yourself a favor and catch up on the past adventures of Will Smith here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

For now, enjoy today’s transcript.

(Barry Sonnenfeld enters his apartment, carrying two bags of groceries, and finds Will Smith sitting on their couch eating spicy pork rinds, watching the hit Jonathon Silverman sitcom “The Single Guy.”)

Will Smith: Aw shit, Sonnenfeld.  I had a feeling you were gone hit up the Safeway.  Your boy is feelin’ mighty peckish, so you best pull those Eggo’s out that bag and hook a brotha up.

Barry Sonnenfeld: First of all, I’ve learned my lesson; no more foods you can steal.  Nothing but canned foods from now…

WS: …Bitch, you think I can’t steal a can?

BS: …Second, if you’re so hungry, why don’t you just finish up those chicarrones you’ve got there?

WS: Chi-Cha-What?

BS: It’s the Spanish word for pork rinds.

WS: Por-Rin-What?

BS: Pork rinds, Will.  It’s that bag of junk food that’s on your lap.  I’ll never understand how you can eat that garbage.  You know that’s just deep-fried pig skin?

WS: You need to watch it, “Mr. Do-You-Know-What’s-In-A-Hotdog.”  I believe in the free market, and Ill take my chances letting it tell me what to eat.

BS: The free market doesn’t want you to be healthy.  If you keep eating like this, you’re running a serious risk of heart disease.

WS: Shit, my dad dies of heart diseases.  And my gramps.  And my Big Momma.  And two of my cousins.  And my original DJ.

BS: DJ Acid Jazzy Pete?

WS: Dude was whack (Will does the “sign of the cross”).

BS: Riddle me this: what did all those people have in common?

WS: I don’t follow.  How is that a riddle?

BS: It’s just an expression.  Did all those people eat a lot of junk food?

WS: Shit yeah, the stuff’s delicious.

BS: Do you understand where I’m going with this?

WS: Oh most definitely.  I need to eat more Subway sandwiches.  You know my favorite Subway sandwich?  The B.M.T.

BS: Probably not the healthiest sandwich on their menu.  I’d go with the Veggie Delight.

WS: You know what B.M.T. stands for?

BS: Sure don’t.

WS: “Big, Meaty, Tasty.”  You believe that shit?  There’s not even a person, place, or thing word in there.

BS: A noun?

WS: That’s it.  You know what else I like that’s big, meaty, and tasty?

BS: Please don’t say “your mother’s titties.”

WS: Yo momma’s titties.  Five dollars a foot.

BS: I have no idea what that even means.

WS: Me neither.  I just thought it sounded insulting, like I paid five bucks to suck on your mommy’s teat.

BS: As much as I hate to change the subject…

WS: (under his breath)…Why you doin’ it then, bitch?

BS: …I think we need to have a talk.

WS: Oh shit.  Did I forget to flush again?

BS: Yes, but that’s not what I’m worried about right now.  Right now, I’m a little concerned that all of our furniture appears to have been moved.  Do you know anything about this?

WS: Nope.  I surely do not know anything about nothing like that.  No, sir.

BS: Will…

WS: Alright, B-Feld.  You got me.  I’m not match for your mad detectiving skills.

BS: Why, Will?  Why?

WS: Why what?

BS: For one, why is our TV upside down?

WS: I’m trying to train my brain to automatically flip pictures that I see that happen to be upside down.

BS: I’m going to regret asking this, but for God’s sake, why?

WS: Two words: Mission Impossible.

BS: You mean the movie?

WS: Damn right.  My career needs a kick in the pants and making movie after movie with you sure as shit ain’t doin’ it.

BS: First of all, that’s hurtful.  Second, I’m pretty sure that Tom Cruise has that role locked down.  Plus, the lead is a white guy.  I mean, he was originally played by Peter Graves.

WS: Racism!  Racism!  That’s it; I’m blowing the racism whistle (pulls out a black whistle and blows it very loudly and obnoxiously).

BS: Will!  Will!  (Whistle blowing stops) I really wish you’d get rid of that thing. It’s just you and me here; I’m sure all you’re doing with that whistle is annoying the neighbors.

WS: You know what annoys me?  The soft racism of diminished expectations, bitch.  Shit, I’m at least 14 times the actor that Tom Cruise is.  Plus, I can play white.  Check this out: “Hello, friend.  What a lovely day it is today.  Can I trouble you for a carbonated beverage?  I agree, black people’s hair does look funny.”

BS: Looks like I should get a “racism whistle” of my own.

WS: What does that mean?

BS: It means that your portrayal of a white person is just as racist as me saying that you can’t reprise Peter Graves’ role.

WS: Shit, I can’t be a racist.  Ain’t no such thing as a black racist.

BS: We’re going to have to agree to disagree.  But I have to ask you: what’s going on with the drapes.

WS: I can’t say that I know what you’re getting at.

BS: Well, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that the drapes are no longer covering our windows, but now seem to be obscuring our fireplace.

WS: That’s right.

BS: I don’t get how that’s going to help you land the Mission Impossible role.

WS: That’s actually about something else.  I don’t want to give away too much just yet, but let’s just say I found a way for us to never pay taxes again.

BS: As a roommate, I’m very curious about what’s going on in my home; but as a human, I’m pretty sure whatever you’re up to is wildly illegal and horribly immoral, and knowing what you’re up to would make me an accesso…

WS: …I’m starting my own religion.

BS: I applaud your initiative, but I fail to see what that has to do with our drapes.

WS: Have you ever heard of “fun shway?”

BS: I think it’s called “feng shui.”

WS: Not when I do it.  When I do it, it’s fun as shit.

BS: What’s the point of your religion?  What do you even believe in?  What are your tenants?

WS: I haven’t worked that out just yet.  I figured I would just make it up as I go along.

BS: I think that’s how Judaism was started.

WS: Got any ideas for me?

BS: Oh no.  I want no part of this.  If you need me, I’m going to be hiding in my room, waiting for this whole thing to blow over.

(Barry goes into his room)

BS: Will, can you tell me what happened to my bed?  (No answer)  Will!  WILL!

Ladies and gentlemen, there’s no doubt that it’s been a while since I last made one of these here Top Five Lists, but I assure you that I haven’t lost my touch.  Much like Rocky in the most recent Rocky movie, I’ve still got it.

Today’s list was inspired by a game of Boggle I played the other day.  One of the words I found on the board was “peen,” which was deemed “not a word” by pretty much everyone at the table.  I was disheartened by their lack of intellectual and linguistic largesse, but there was no way I was about to cross that word off my list.  I found “peen” and “peens;” that’s three whole points.  In the world of competitive Boggle, every little bit counts.

Well, imagine my competitors’surprise when we opened up the dictionary and found this entry:

Peen: wedge or ball shaped end of a hammer.

At first glance, I was glad to keep my points with no fight (my final score for the round: 5), but the more I thought about it, the dirtier I felt.  A peen isn’t a part of a hammer; it’s a dick.

I stared at that dictionary entry, and a feeling of disgust washed over me.  In our modern world, we don’t give nearly enough respect to slang.  Every few months, we hear about Webster relaxing his overly-clenched anus and letting some new slang term into his sacred tome.  Almost invariably, they induct some technology-related word: blog, twitter, gizmobob.  Webster never, ever shows any love to the world of anatomical slang.  And that’s a shame.  A damn shame.

Well, I’ve never been one to give any respect to the establishment.  I’ve always been one to look the establishment in it’s eye (the establishment is a cyclops) and say, “Hey Establishment, you don’t own me, man.”  And it’s in that tritely roguish spirit that I bring you today’s list.  Yeah, man, I don’t have the same values as you, Establishment.  I’m going to honor things you’re not so into.

Alright, it’s the Top Five Anatomical Slang Terms.  Let’s get it on.

5) B-Hole

Sure, it’s really just butthole without the “utt,” but for some reason, that little omission adds a great deal to this term.  “Shove it up your B-Hole,” “My B-Hole itches,” “My B-Hole is for pooing, not screwing;” this term works in a variety of contexts, but really lacks the cleverness to make it any higher on this list.

4) Soup Cooler

About two years ago, I was flipping through the channels on my TV box, when I came across something very baffling on BET.  They were airing a top five music video countdown, and the day’s theme was Top Five Soup Coolers.  I had absolutely no idea what a “soup cooler” was, and watching the videos gave me no useful clues.  I consulted an online slang dictionary, but found no answers.  After about a year and a half of not really caring, it was pointed out to me by a friend that a soup cooler was a mouth, and ever since then I’ve tried to use the term sparingly in my conversation.

3) Gams

Ain’t nothing wrong with a nice pair o’ gams.  Am I right or am I right?  I love the word “gams,” because of its closeness to other very non-sexual words (yams, gums) and one potentially sexual word (clams).  I like to go to a local karaoke night, tell the DJ to put on ZZ Top’s “Legs,” and replace every instance of the word “legs” with “gams.”  It really throws off the rhyming scheme.

2) Joint/Crank (tie)

This is a rare occasion here at Friesen Point; we actually have a tie for the #2 spot on the list.  There are just so many great names for the penis: wang, dong, peen, peener, baby arm, johnson, joystick, schmeckel; the list goes on and on.  In the end, choosing just one was too hard, so I decided that joint and crank were as good as it got.  My reasoning for this is two-fold.  First, both of these words are nouns that mean other things.  Second, there’s something pleasing about how the words are monosyllabic.  They’re short and crisp, two adjectives you don’t really want used to describe your schmeckel, but somehow work well to describe words that describe your schmeckel.

1) Snizz

As if there was ever any doubt.  I gotta be totally honest with you; I don’t really have any description or argument for why “snizz” is taking the top spot other than, “just say it out loud.”  Snizz.  It’s great.  I’ve always been a fan of the “s-(fill in the blank)” double consonant.  “Sn” is solid, “st” isn’t bad, “sp” is okay, but pretty pedestrian.  I like the crazy ones like “sm” (as in smegma) or “sk” (as in ska).  Plus, who doesn’t like the double-z?  I can’t think of a double-z word I don’t like: fuzz, jazz, jizz, razz (street slang for “raspberry”).  Great word.

Holy shit.  Do I ever have something great for you today.  I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted a Barry Sonnenfeld transcript here in the blog, but I think after you read what’s to come, you’ll forget all about this lengthy dry spell.

So far, I’ve mostly posted transcripts that have had to do with Barry Sonnenfeld’s professional life, conversations between Sonnenfeld and various movie stars regarding serious show business.  Beside the transcript of the time that Will Smith crashed Sonnenfeld’s Christmas dinner, the private life of Barry Sonnenfeld has gone mostly unexplored.  Not anymore.

I was looking through these transcripts, trying to find the juiciest one I could find, and I’m making no exaggeration when I say that this one blew my mind, mostly because it deals with an event that I didn’t know ever happened, and I am certain that no one in the media has ever reported about this scoop.  It’s probably too juicy.

As it turns out, in mid-1997, just after the release of Men In Black, while both Barry Sonnenfeld and Will Smith’s marriages were “on the skids,” the two men decided to take some time away from their wives and get a place together.  They were frequent collaborators, dear friends, and as I’ve just learned, roommates.  This is some amazing stuff, people.  This transcript which you are about to read may be the most exposing, most personal piece of pop culture history ever recorded.  Thank God you all have me to bring it to you.

Without further ado, I give you “The Transcript.”

(Will is sitting on a baby blue couch, eating pork rinds, laughing maniacally while watching the hit sitcom The Single Guy.  Barry walks in, carrying two paper bags full of groceries)

Will Smith: Holy shit, that’s some funny business.

Barry Sonnenfeld: Really, Will, that’s what you choose to do with your time?  Watch Jonathan Silverman sitcoms?

WS: Dude’s funny, B-Feld.

BS: I don’t see the appeal.  I had him in for a screen test when I was making The Addams Family, and I found him lacking in charisma.

WS: Shit, Sonnenfeld.  You had J Silver Man come in for that movie, but not me?  I’m tellin’ you, I was born to play Lurch.  Who’d he read for?

BS: Lurch.

WS: You fuckin’ wit me.

BS: You got me; he was going for Cousin It.

WS: Yikes.  There was no way he was beating out Robin Williams for that one.

BS: Actually, John Franklin played Cousin It.  Good joke, though.

WS: Don’t patronize me, Sonnenfeld.  The last man who patronized me’s mouth ended up getting jiggy with my boot.  You might say that my foot made his teeth take a little trip down to Miami, where some ladies said “Bienvenedo” to them.

BS: Come on, Will, it’s just you and me here.  There’s no need for threats or violence, you don’t have to impress anyone.

WS: That’s where you’re wrong B-Feld.  People are always watching me, man.  If I’m not constantly on my grind, the world gone know, and that’s when the next would-be king comes along and takes my damn throne.

BS: Just because I’m curious, who’s the next would-be king right now?

WS: You remember the Tony Rich Project?

BS: Yeah.

WS: Well, it’s not him.  Please!  You think I’m going to tell you who’s nipping at my divine heels?  Shit, I might as well anoint the bitch with fucking olive oil.

BS: I liked that “Nobody Knows It But Me” song.  It was so smooth and sensitive.

WS: You know what else is smooth and sensitive?

BS: Please don’t say “the tip of your dick.”

WS: The tip of my dick, bitch.

BS: Third time today, that joke never gets old.

WS: Shit, I’m just doing my part to try to get you to stop talking about smooth, sensitive things.

BS: I’ll see what I can do.  I’m glad we’ve somehow gotten onto the topic of suggestions for how we can change our behavior, because I’ve got a few notes.

WS: Aw shit, here we go.

BS: First of all, Will, you have got to clean off the soap after you shower.

WS: I’d like to point out right here and now that there’s no way you can prove that’s my hair.  Maybe it’s your hair?

BS: I’m a bald Jew, you’re a young black man.  Are you trying to tell me that you don’t think one could tell the difference between our hairs?

WS: That shit’s profiling!

BS: Will, I’m not asking that much; just be respectful of my space.

WS: I don’t know what that mean.

BS: How about this.  You know what this means: Eggo Waffles?

WS: Alright, you got me on that one.  I did steal some of your waffles.

BS: I bet Jonathon Silverman wouldn’t steal my waffles.

WS: B-Feld, that was just hurtful.

BS: You’re right, I’m sorry, Will.  It’s clear that if we’re going to make this living situation work, we need to work on our communication.

WS: Shit, you sound like my wife.  Like a bald, Jewish version of my wife.

BS: Not a “bald, Jewish, male version of your wife?”

WS: I don’t follow.

BS: Look, don’t worry about it.  All I’m saying is that we need to put together a list of house rules, you know, a collection of the things that matter most to each of us.

WS: That sounds like a great idea.

BS: Really, Will?  I’m glad to hear that you’re on board with this thing.  I really think it’ll help things run a lot smoother around here.

WS: I’ll tell you what gone make things go smooth around here: some of that P-Ussy.  You feel me, B-Feld?

BS: I don’t know.  I think that might hurt my efforts to patch things up with my wife.

WS: Whatever, Sonnenfeld.  I’m outta here; the smart money says that there’s some babies at the club who’ve got a Big Willy shaped hole in their anal cavity.

(Will leaves)