It’s a weird week for me, at least inside my skull plates. I’ve gotten more than the usual in-box of emails from an easterly direction, I’m smack dab in the middle of the anniversary of my personal manifest destiny (I got in my car March 8 and got here about March 19, 2005) and among the comedy folks I miss the most two are in Aspen, CO, I hope becoming legends.

So, to feed my nostalgia, that bittersweet ache of what was but ain’t no more, that quaint and vaseline-lensed swirly dream state of what wasn’t a better time, per se, but with the right lighting could feel that way. I’m bathing my brain in all of the fondness I have ever felt for Boston comedy.

(A community which was in truth something of a mental beat down that made me treat myself better in this comedy world. Kind of a scared straight situation where instead of witnessing a prison rape and deciding I didn’t want to end up there, it was drowning in night after night of beer-soaked bitterness, where a world of failures and up-and-comers tried to make me feel that I could never climb to even the height of their shoes. If enough assholes work on your ego for too long there are two possible outcomes — (1) You start to believe it, or (2) your vision clears, you see their crater-sized flaws, and you pull your own shoes out of that gutter of pathetic, shit-stained dreams. I ended up in the sun, figuratively and literally, like approximately 9,000 other walking cliches who moved West.)

Read this excerpt from last year’s ramblings to feel the transition to an almost year-long adventure.

Anyhow, I kind of digressed there from the warm fuzziness of my love for many in Boston and in that rat race of comedy. Here’s what I have to offer as my Valentine, two videos one that’s been here before and a new one (at least to this page), both of which were shot in the same month, maybe the same week, maybe even the same night, how the fuck should I know, they’re a year old.

In “Bumping” I’m driving the car, while the Walshes and a random fan don’t thankfully die in traffic.

In the second one, the Walshes are talking about my favorite subject, me, at my last Boston show. This videotape will be used as evidence when they come back from Aspen with a TV deal, become famous, and I sue them for some kind of grievous wrong or more likely, patrimony (both of them at once, creating a mutant zombie baby with their combined sperm).