How Monogamy has Contributed to the Gradual Downfall of Society

Heavy title right?

“But Doug, your parents are monogamous, so were your grandparents etc.!”

Yes. I hear you, I see you, and if you’re a macho dude, I fear you. Here’s what’s up.

I was talking about “toxic masculinity” in my last post. Monogamy has contributed to toxic masculinity. How many times have we heard someone making fun of dick size, height, general apparition as humans? We’re all just waiting to die, and yet, some people still make it their goal to put people down!

“Beauty” is a word that’s thrown around. If you’re “not beautiful,” then why live at all? “If I’m not fashionable, people won’t like me.” BULLSHIT. People will like you if you’re not up on the “hottest trends” or know who any of the bands are at Coachella. The dumb ones, TMs, shallow fucks, they are the ones to stay away from…or shine a light on how their point of view is the old way. “Why are you being so aggressive? We’re all connected by the internet and Wild Wild Country (Sheela was a sociopath with too much power at a young age. Minus Sheela going after Bhagwan’s doctor and the Hollywood people, minus the hotel bombing, minus the orange/red/pink clothing and screaming meditation, it could’ve worked. I think some Rajneeshees are still around). Beauty, is subjective. No one is “more or less beautiful” than anyone else, because there is someone, maybe many someones, for everyone. Have you heard of pheromones? Have you ever thought of your partner “You smell disgusting, take a shower!” That, is nature, telling YOU, that you maybe shouldn’t fuuuck. On the contrary, have you ever thought of your partner “Whoa…you smell aMAZING!” That’s nature telling you and the other body, to fuuuck. Have sex. Make love. Hook up. Get together. Mash bits. 69. 420. Cuddle. Don’t cuddle (do cuddle). Close. Medium-close. Glenn Close.

What are we doing? The presidency of shronald frumf has taught us that all are fallible. EVEN THE PRESIDENT. Trump is a piece of shit. He’s lonely af, as seen by him trying to pinky hold Melania’s hand, but he doesn’t deserve her or anyone. Cheating with multiple women, while his wife was pregnant. Despicable ME Is about HIM (maybe, I still haven’t seen it. He’s a villain, yes?) He deserves to be locked up in a federal super-duper max prison in solitary confinement to thing about what he’s done! He’s a menace, he ONLY cares about rich white people, and he puts down everyone else. If you’re a Trump supporter, currently, wake the fuck up. He does not care about you, he certainly doesn’t care about Kanye West.

Kanye “making moves” to be friendly with DT, cause of what…TAXES?! Real HARD, K. *Shaking my head*. If he’s truly reaching out to the president to try and affect him and give him good ideas, maybe I see it. It looks like, though, a rich guy going “Whoa this hotel magnate at the top of the United States is going to benefit me financially, VERY much. I don’t CARE what happens to anyone else.” It’s how it feels, too. Deep down, Kanye, you have to punk the shit out of Donald Trump and the entire GOP. Humiliate the fuck out of him. Distribute the PEE-PEE TAPE. That’d be the most badass thing ever.

Kanye, if you do this, you could save America from its toxic masculinity. Be on the side of women on this one. Trump does not give a shit about women.

But I digress. One reason Donald Trump has been divorced twice…maybe he’s polyamorous and would never know it cause he’s an old, set-in-his-ways fuck, who wouldn’t even explore it as an intellectual possibility. So he’s fucked up and fucked other women, porn stars, hired prostitutes to piss on the bed where the Obamas Slept in Russia. All cause, what…you were threatened by people liking him more than you? Toxic masculinity. Trump is led, like LOTS of men and women, by their pride. Their senses of self. “If I do that, what would people think of me? Good heavens. 🧐” “I can’t cry in a movie or TV show, cause I’m a man, and real men don’t cry.” What the fuck? Who sold you that dreck? Was it Shrek? Gregory Peck? Kiss each other on the neck.

People have bought into this narrative, for so long, that “the man and woman get married, they have kids, maybe go to church every Sunday, and keep humanity going.”

Humanity can continue with many polyamorous people. That phrase “It takes a village to raise a child.” What if everyone just knew and contributed to everyone around? What if people talked again? There’s a ton of communication missed out on from toxic masculinity people, being very possessive of “what’s mine. I own her and she owns me. That’s why we got tattoos of each other’s names, and vials of each other’s blood that we carry around on our necks. No, YOU’RE weird!”

When I bring up polyamory, people go “😌😌 I can hardly handle ONE relationship, I couldn’t imagine MANY😂😂”

It doesn’t work like that. At least, it doesn’t have to. If you’re polyamorous you might be dating someone, you might even end up living with them, and you’ve both agreed that you can see other people. Maybe together, maybe separate. Maybe you never live with anyone but, instead, hope to go on dates and take a shower, grab a shave maybe a haircut, while perhaps also hooking up, and having a place to sleep for the night (this has worked for me zero times, but I have had some nice friends reach out and offer me a place to sleep for the night. Most nights I sleep in the “car-tent”, which I may or may not have already explained in my previous “Roofless” post, “A Month Without a Home” or others. It’s basically the car cover and I’m inside with some anonymity. It’s given me some much-needed solace in this tumultuous time in my life. Being homeless sucks, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Being able to stretch out ALL THE WAY while going to bed at night? I miss that). Maybe it’s friends who hook up sometimes. Maybe it’s only kissing. I don’t know. Many types of people in this beautiful world.

Some of the scarier types are the toxically masculine, or TM. These TMs are worried that “the fabric of society will unravel and we’ll just have chaos and sex piles.” Polyamory doesn’t immediately mean “sex pile”. It could; doesn’t have to, though. That’s as unimaginative as me saying “I bet ALL monogamous couples have sex in missionary every time, the whole time!”

To demonize polyamory is as toxic as TMs concerned with their significant others as possessions. To demonize polyamory is to lie and say that you’ve never ever thought about having sex with another person. Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean you’ve got to snuff it out.

I’m not saying “Hey everyone, break up with your significant others and fuck whomever you feel like, as long as it’s consensual of course.” the consensual part, yes. And yes, maybe it’s time to break up. Monogamy works for people. Most are content to “find someone”, stick with them forever, have kids and a family. Some are more content to live and date whomever, forever, and maybe have kids, or not. I’m of the latter…kinda funny cause I’m also formerly of the “latter-day saints” or LDS church.

I’m happy for the precepts the church has taught me. Be a good person. Love one another. Try to help those in need when you can and when they need. Don’t fuck people’s significant others. Don’t drink (I’ve always lived by this one). There’ve been 3 times where I consumed some alcohol: once at a party, where I asked if there was any in the juice, was told there wasn’t, and it tasted like juice so I drank like a quarter cup (good juice btw). Once at the last The Meltdown with Jonah and Kumail (it was a cup o’ champagne I think? It wasn’t great, the symbolism of us all being a family there. It was dope, the drink not so much). Once while doing a micro-dose of acid mixed in with a tiny cup of sake. I don’t think I felt the micro-dose and I’m pretty sure I didn’t feel the sake.

Anyway, those instances aside, I just have never had alcohol. Never had the urge. I may be homeless but I have saved A LOT of money by not drinking. Weed is different. It’s medicine, AND it’s fun. It’s both, and it’s a beautiful thing. Never had a danger of a blackout. Driving’s been very chill.

Idiocracy is real, and we’re seeing its effects, watch Atlanta, Donald Glover’s doin’ great things on FX. Call or text. Resurrect, our much needed nude connect. Talkin’ sex. Playing chess. Or we play some NES. Pizza Domino’s finesse. Smokin’ doobies for a sess. Drinkin’ smoothies, fruit is fresh. I’m not calling you COLLECT. Using minutes, I respect. Hear our voices intersect. Don’t deflect, decompress. Tell me all about your stress. We undress, bodies pressed, to a climax, no distress.

I went on a 2-year mission to Dominican Republic and, as a result, am bilingual. There’s tons of toxic masculinity on “the mission” and I bet LOTS of guys/gals “in the church” find out many things about themselves while “in service”. It’s all pretty crazy. I’m writing G a book about my life called “LDFS: Growing up Mormon, Discovering Weed at 30, and then Getting Lyme Disease” just could use a publisher, maybe some money so I can focus on writing and living in a house, instead of worrying where to find parking, for free in my blog (which I’ll continue to do), and finding open gas station toilets in which to shit.

Book publishers: Hmu.



P.S. Venmo: Doug-Culp if you’d like to donate to me having food/gas/bills paid. This is a sole source of income and I’m always looking for more work. “Hire me!” 😂 really though, hire me.

P.P.S. Check out my sites & sounds:


Smallville, Toxic Masculinity, and “Incels”

Smallville was near and dear to my heart. I watched it all, week to week. For 2 yrs I was out of the country and I asked my dad to tape it for me. See there was this thing called a VCR, and you had to put the movie into the VCR, on a VHS tape. It wasn’t ALL VHS, though, oh no. DVD, HD DVD, Laser Disc…so Smallville. Cool show. It was fun, sexy, dangerous, one could say it was trying to be the Buffy of the DC world. 10 seasons! Michael Rosenbaum, I loved you as Lex, and Lionel you were great too! So many times I’d catch myself saying “Just tell him, Clark!” (if he’d have told him early on, Lex wouldn’t have turned out how he did)

Smallville had this character named Chloe. I rooted for Chloe cause she was the girl next door; the choice that Clark had all those years and instead chose Lana (Kristen Kreuk 💯).

Chloe represented what was good in all of us. She was chaotic good, and that led to LOTS of chaos. Off-screen more than on, apparently.

She helped this guy run a sex cult called Nexivm (pronounced “Nexium”) and she made girls have sex with the top guy, and it was a pyramid scheme, the guy being the top of the pyramid and Chloe (Allison Mack) right underneath. Words like “Master” and “Slave” were strewn about, and apparently this had been going on for the past 20 yrs. They did the scientology thing where they made you admit past indiscretions on camera and would treated to leak it all if you left.

Scary shit.

Toxic masculinity is a curse on this world as has been for ages.

Toxic masculinity has been linked to monogamy, violence, jealousy, insecurity, religion, war, et al.

It’s basically the belief that “A man needs to be a MAN”. That includes guns, the media’s standards for beauty, and gym memberships. Being fit is not bad by any stretch. But if you put too much emphasis on it, it’ll make you vein.

I had some leftover pizza earlier and it was really good. Thanks again Domino’s for owning up to your past bad pizza and fixing it.

Back to TM. It propagates the lie that the nuclear family is the only way to go, and that everything else is a threat to it. TM also produces “Incels” or “Inadvertently celibate” dudes. They’re aggressive, mean, and take out their personal woes on women and in terrorist acts.

Canada was just hit by one of these “Incels”. I’ve got a handful of friends from Canada. Hope you’re all safe up there.

Incels, if you’re listening/reading this: go out more. Go to see bands play, to see stand-up and other comedy shows, get out of the house but, most importantly, get out of the house. Place yourself in social situations so as to MAYBE meet someone who loves you for who you are, not for what you look like.

Standards of “beauty” are all over the place in this world. “How can I even date anyone when I look like THIS?!” should not come into anyone’s mind. Beauty is seen differently, person to person.

Aggressive men are still out there. They still exist. For what are you compensating? What inward validation would you need to possibly leave me alone instead of acting like an aggressive bro? Mad bro? We all die and every day we’re reminded of it because of our shitty president, the NRA, and insane INCELS purportedly “involuntarily celibate”. Go OUTSIDE and TALK to HUMANS in PERSON.

These will be the mobile militias. These will be the “problem areas” which will lead to more deaths and less understanding.

I hope I’m wrong about the weird-ass quadfecta of evil. I hope Trump and the majority of his cabinet go to jail…REAL jail, and that most of them get solitary confinement. These fuckers need to be put in TIME-OUT.

You’re about to start a nuclear holocaust over Twitter. TIME-OUT!

You believe in Gay-conversion therapy. TIME-OUT!

You believe that “good people don’t smoke marijuana.” TIME-OUT!

I could go on and on about the president and how much of a fucking moron he is. I know that most who voted for him are either digging their heels and heads into the sand, and hoping for the best, or they’re in open fields, burning swastikas, hoping for the horrible to happen.

Tom Welling, I’m sorry the Red-Blue Blur couldn’t stop Allison Mack from joining and helping run that sex cult.

Macho dudes out there, smoke some weed, chill out, watch Wild Wild Country.

Beauty standards, makeup industry, whomever the FUCK first thought of Botox injections: Fuck you. Fashion is a facade, perfumes and colognes ensure artificial chemical smell, and sometimes we need free Wi-Fi at a café!

Quick side: If you have more than enough money, and you don’t understand “homeless people” aka “the huddled masses” aka “ME RIGHT NOW”, don’t talk shit. Reach out. Ask, learn, educate yourselves o  “the disparate masses” cause we “street people” are alive too. We have hopes and dreams, just like anyone else.

Some of those hopes might be as simple as “I hope I get to shower this month. That’d be nice.”

Or as complex as “I hope someone sees my writing, realizes I’ve got loads to say to the public, so much so that I’ll get sponsorship for my podcast (7-Eleven, Mountain Dew, Netflix) and maybe I get representation or maybe I Bill Murray my way through this business and only work with those whom I truly wish to work with.”

Or like “Someone please make a documentary about me and my Lyme Disease and the hardships I’m going through to tell my story and spread awareness of bad doctors and of Lyme Disease.”

Watch Atlanta. Watch Legion.

Thanks for reading.



Venmo: Doug-Culp

Chronicles of “A Homeless” Pt. 3

I’m in a race against time right now. Will power will get me through.

I’m hungry af, chillin’ in the car-tent, waiting to go maybe shit and then get a Big Bite/Big Gulp combo for $2.43.

I recently saw someone post that they bought and ate a vegetarian dog at the stadium for $13. ONE FUCKING HOT DOG for THIRTEEN FUCKING DOLLARS!! I’m still flabbergasted. If any of you have EVER paid this much for stadium food, I either feel for you (cause you could BARELY afford it) or I deeply hate your sensibility when it comes to food (cause a single serving of ANYTHING should never be more than $10).

If you’re rich af, and don’t understand why I’m so mad, there’s the fucking door. You probably have one of those doors that opens automatically and an Okay Google or Alexa in every room though. Go talk to your robots, this is for people who care about money and how few people have it these days.

I was busy this weekend. I worked the Cannabis Cup 2018 with this company called Nugg. (24/7 customer service/live chat, get your rec online, we’re like a concierge service for cannabis

I spent some time as a “free agent” which meant I got to go around and spread the good word about our cannabis services. We were everywhere. Blue blazers and vests all aglow.

I bumped into my friend Mike Glazer, who is getting bigger in the cannabis/comedy/cooking communities as “Glazed”. He’s got his own shirts! A #podcast too, check out Weed+Grub.

Night one in the car-tent, near HQ, someone was flashing a light onto/into the car. What would you do if I stepped out and asked “Can I help you?” What the fuck would you do, rich folks? “Can I help you? Yeah, I’m just going through some hard times right now.” “Can you go through them SOMEWHERE ELSE?!”

No, not really. I’m drifting with the wind for now and finding temporary anchor points here and there.

Got some hook-ups while working, won a Coca-Cola can-shaped piece! Unloaded LOTS of free tote bags. The green was flowing and the blue shone through.

Aside from being a free agent, I spent a shift in the “flush tank” (it’s basically a dunk-tank but instead of me falling into water, water fell onto me from an overhead toilet which was being filled and refilled with a recycled water solution. It was water, just the solution was to recycle it through a system of tubes). Not gonna lie  every time someone hit the lever with a softball, I dreaded it. Not for the getting wet factor, but for the amount of time it “flushed Jeff Sessions” (I was wearing a Jeff Sessions mask the whole time, so people LOVED flushing his face).

Under the flush, it felt like what I imagine waterboarding-lite would feel like. I was t being tortured but the flushing was torture. Some people couldn’t hit the target, so like sore loser (assholes) they’d run right up to the lever and press it with their hands. Ya know, like how a good sport would do. Aggro assholes would take 5 or 6 shots at it, coming back for more if they’d STILL managed to miss. Remember, they’re not “flushing” ME, they’re flushing the IDEA of Jeff Sessions’ FACE. So much aggression, some genuine happiness, and at one point, the guy with the megaphone was giving our Nugg crew chances to flush me as well! Where the fuck was THAT in the plan?!

Anyway, a little traumatized, I made some friends that weekend. I asked the founders if they’d have me in some sort of comedy social media capacity, and we’re gonna talk about it further a few days from now.

I’m stoked. I’ll be stoked once @DougsNugs on twitter/IG can get referrals to whomever checks it out, and hopefully my podcast (#YAMATAT aka #YouAndMeAndThoughtsAndTalkwithDougCulp) listeners will jump in, too!


I need money cause, remember the title?

Venmo: Doug-Culp

Anyway, mainly wanted to rant about that $13 veggie dog. Nugg job was dope af.

Oh yeah! Flies are a menace to the world. I’m gonna write a movie called “Come Fly With Me” and it’s gonna be like “The Birds” but with flies. I asked Blumhouse if they’d make it if I wrote it. No word back yet.

RT, re-tumble, re-facebook this pls.



P.S. I was able to watch last night’s Westworld and Silicon Valley, but the 6-day watch-a-thon is now over, and I’d love a login. I wanna watch Last Week Tonight and laugh my ass off. At least while I do laundry. Yeah, even #homeless aka #Roofless people have laundry day, if you’ll allow it.

Sponsor My Podcast

Hey all. Hopefully you’ve been brought here by one of my previous posts, or from my podcast ep, which I’m just about to edit together, called “Read My Blog”.

Now that we’re all gathered, the important part. My podcast needs sponsorship and, assuming the companies will have me, I’d like to pick my own sponsors.

Here is a list of all the companies whom I’d wish to help by them helping me + Promo codes + discounts and all that stuff:

7-Eleven (Oh thank heaven)

Mountain Dew (Free Dew of any flavor – see my audition to be their spokesperson)

Domino’s (what if I got a free Large 3-topping for every 3 people who used promo code: “YAMATAT”?)

Popeye’s Chicken (I never ever ever eat KFC since I’ve discovered the goodness of Popeye’s)

Dollar Shave Club (Cheap af razors and BUTT WIPES too!)

HBO/Netflix/Hulu (Free streaming from customers using promo code: YAMATAT)

JetBlue/Virgin Atlantic (free local/international flights for promo code: “YAMATAT”)

Super 8/Motel 6/etc (Free hotel stays thanks to promo code: “YAMATAT”, I am technically homeless right now)

Pep Boys (Tune-ups & tires, oil changes, fix my car)

MetroMile car insurance: Pay what you drive (covered monthly insurance)

WeedMaps/Leafly/ (promo code: YAMATAT will get me green and pieces and things like that)

If enough people reach out to these companies for me  o  their own accord, this could work. Maybe not each and every one, but it’s possible. Who knows? Who knows how big companies like Viacom get big companies on board for advertising space. Probably started with one person reaching out.

That one person is me, and I’m reaching out to you, the listener. Hopefully also the reader (and vice versa).

I’ve got my Venmo: Doug-Culp set up, in case anyone wants to help out without helping these other companies.

You can see it, right? This random entertainer, bursts onto the scene and all by himself, no agent/manager I mean. If enough people truly believe in me and my ability to entertain the world, you’d see a change. We can change the “face” of Hollywood and fame. Make sure everyone’s got a name.

I want to have a late-night talk show, and, it’s called You And Me And Thoughts And Talk Show with Doug Culp. Podcast connection, LIVE on TV, instant show. Come along with me won’t you?

Let’s explore the imaginative side of creativity.

No more re-boots or re-do’s. Sambas are the most comfortable shoes. Making jokes and telling news. I could certainly get some late night views. I hope more agree, don’t you(s)?

I’m a huge proponent for cannabis. I wanna open up a pot shop called Doug’s Nugs. I’ve got the IG and Twitter handles. Let’s get some hempwick and light the candles.

I have a plan to end all homelessness, in the world, forever, and it’s really something! If I get enough of a following on here, thru my podcast, sponsorships, we could really save the world.

Right now I’m just a dude, writing every platitude, trying not to have attitude, looking to get Mountain Dew’d.

My car registration is expired because I ha e no source of income (besides Venmo: Doug-Culp thank you again for any and l who have donated!) and a gig here & there.

I’m posting this the day of my training as a weed butler for a weekend of work at Cannabis Cup. After that, I don’t know what I’ll be doing for work. Hopefully I can meet some chill weed peeps at the event and it can lead to more weed work.

I wrote a pilot. This show is gonna end up on AMC, FX, HBO, or Syfy. Those are my choices. It’s about a homeless vigilante who’s being chased by the government. Sounds fun right? I want to direct, executive produce, show run, star, in it. It’s gonna be A TON of work, but I’m looking forward to it!

So, to recap:

-Podcast sponsorship (please rate and review on iTunes, 5 stars + “Help this guy get work” or something like that)

-You And Me And Thoughts And Talk Show with Doug Culp (my own late show with which to have tons of fun and interact with everyone)

-TV pilot about the homeless vigilante.

-Venmo: Doug-Culp

-Ending. All. Homelessness. Forever.



@dougathan @yamatat @DougsNugs @duplexcomedy @DrDougSurgery

Southwest Airlines, we need to TALK.

Hey Southwest, what’s up? Your planes? You need to explain yourself further…track the blade history. TRACK THE BLADE!

My family has flow with y’all for YEARS. What if one of us ends up the next in ROW 14??

Blumhouse Presents:

Row 14: The Journey Southwest.

I’ve gotta be honest I’m a little scared. If a plane can just break like that in mid-air, what is my pride worth if I’m dead?! Row 14 dead! (I’m truly sorry for whomever it was that died. Please know, sincerely, I’m mad at Southwest Airlines).

You’re going to have to lower the price of your flights, a lot. Shit you might have to start paying people to ride in planes as seat-fillers to try and promote company and “Southwest brand morale”. Cause you fucked up. Somewhere, someone allowed the plane to be in such condition, that it could just break apart in the sky; the place where a plane should typically be.

Lower your prices to $10/flight, to anywhere in the US, $15/international flight. It’ll be a fun experiment. In this time of distrust and “loyalty”, what if it was somehow Russia? Aren’t some Russian ex-spies roaming free in our country somewhere? Probably (and if you’re one of those spies, reading this, leave me alone).

Got a little off-track. *Ahem* Southwest Airlines. Lower your prices, cause I don’t want myself to turn into slices, of pizza, meat pie. You’ve made me more afraid to fly. So here’s mud in your eye.

Free sodas and snacks for every customer too. If I’m gonna end up on ROW 14, I at least wanna have a full belly when my head gets sucked out the window. I’m assuming that’s how the passenger died (again I am so sorry if you’re related to them in any way, family or friend).

Southwest Airlines: You’ll Die For These Prices.

40% angle for how long? You said “a few seconds” but I ha e to hear from someone who was on the flight. Any survivors of that flight who will do my podcast, follow me on Twitter @yamatat and we’ll talk. This is awful of Southwest, the NTSB, and I really hope this wasn’t terrorism of some kind.

I hope we can find trust in the skies again, as now I’m only wondering, “Is flying Southwest gonna end in my death? It might not be worth the risk!”

Southwest, hmu. Survivors, hmu. This needs to be fixed. Oh yeah, Southwest, I really hope you take full accountability on this. We can’t be dying IN PLANES.


Doug Culp

Venmo: Doug-Culp

Donald Glover, Please do my podcast.

Hey Donald,

I don’t know if you’ll read this, but I fucking love your music dude. Just wanted to say that. You’re inspiring af.

So, earlier I tweeted one of those knee-jerk tweets, about a podcast called “Awards Chatter”. I basically said I’d rather kill myself than to listen to a podcast glorifying trophies.

The meaning behind awards is valid  the feeling is true  cause tradition exists, only because it keeps existing. I believe the awards culture in Hollywood, in the world, needs to change.

I’ve developed a plan to end all homelessness, and I’d love to have you on my podcast to talk about it off mic after the ep. This info is important and if it falls into the wrong hands, It’ll get monetized and fucked over.

I have a friend who owns a solar company, and he’s ready to help. Can’t really say more than that on the cloud. The data that scoots along this infinite highway of bullshit.

But it can also be fun. I’ve had this blog for a while and only just started writing in it again, for therapeutic reasons if I’m being honest. It’s tough being homeless aka Roofless. It’s been 5 months in the back seat if the car, and I’m determined.

I’m a stand-up comic  I don’t go up much. Depression’s weird. Pretty sure I’ve got it. I booked a small tour up the coast though, in May. This shit is reading like a sad play. Anyway. I’m listening to Awaken, My Love for the hundredth time and trying to rhyme while dealing with Lyme. Muscles feeble af, body’s run out of luck, hit my life like a truck, now I’m stuck, but I’m not dead. Not done. Gonna save everyone from the government’s guns and the hateful un-fun.

Fuck the corporation. Adopt cooperation. Love in every nation. This is our cantation. (and then ya dance).

My bigger point is about this podcast I never listened to but, instead, criticized on name alone. Maybe “Awards Chatter” is about the positive discussion that’s going on AT the awards. If it’s about the trophies themselves, I don’t see it holding much weight.

I hope it will focus on the important issues that are being talked about in this very important time we’re seeing unfold before our eyes.

People are waking up to the possibility that we’re living in a simulation (great ep, I fucking love Atlanta. It’s beautiful.)

In these times of tyrants howling with their sirens, demanding silence, loving violence, denying responsibility, losing themselves, to themselves, for just a little pee.

The thing that’s more important than awards is humanity. This bullshit with Sean Hannity, the literal insanity of those who’ve forgotten how to care about democracy. It’s not a fuckin’ theocracy, though there are some who wish it’d be. Not you and me, see?

I’ve been doing my podcast for over 4 yrs now and I started it because I wanted to talk to the world. I had a handful of funny friends and wanted to record our conversations. Record life. So I started You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp, a podcast by me, Doug Culp.

I took 2 weeks of, then I made a website on a notepad doc. Figured out how to produce it with Audacity and publishing the xml, that’s a complicated and boring story. I’ve been writing in my journal every night for the past 15 yrs. That’s pretty fun. I can go way back. I don’t usually go back, but I could, and that’s dope. Keeping a personal history is important, because history is all we have. Pictures help. Instagram is fine.

Hanging out is where the real shit happens. Sorry if I stray I’m high af and feelin’ great. My bigger point, with the awards, is if we really want to be a positive change in the world, we could stop putting so much weight behind the trophies themselves  but more in what they mean.

I wish there was a show where “The Academy” whomever they are, sit around and talk about their favorite movies of the year. Why they loved them. Have an objective in the room vote where you just end the bullshit veil we’ve bought into for so long.

It’s fun, it’s elegant, but we’re dying as a country and seeing it happen in real time.

Some have chosen complacency with what’s happening in the world with our dum-dum pre$ident shronald frumf. I sense a weird-ass quadfecta of evil with us at the center, Russia, China, and N Korea. We’ll just have to sit here groovin’ on it…or we could DO SOMETHING about it!

We know that money is not the most important thing, but it controls us. Money allows us to keep living. Instead we should help each other keep living. This cultural shift has reached a breaking point. We can’t pretend human life doesn’t matter, cause it matters most. If it doesn’t we’re toast, all burned up in a roast, gloatin’ bout who matters most. Host to host. Like a ghost, we disappear, and in the end, we shouldn’t fear, each other, brother.

I have Lyme Disease, and the government doesn’t care if I die. They’ve given me medicine but it hasn’t been enough and it hadn’t been consistent cause it’s expensive af. I’m on Medi-Cal so they’re REALLY getting nothing from me. The corporations that run our healthcare are corrupt and run by greed. Big pharma is a big problem.

I’ve run out of steam, but if anyone I know knows Donald and directs him to this, that’d be dope.



Venmo: Doug-Culp

P.S. I just finished writing this pilot about a homeless vigilante called Roofless. It’s gonna be really fun. Probably FX, Syfy, HBO of they want it. Oh AMC maybe. I’m not represented and I booked that stand-up tour. Living in the backseat of my car and chasing the dreams. This show is gonna save my life. I hope my podcast can do that in some way. Bring people together who love what I’ve been able to do. And so I’m asking you:

Will you do my podcast?

Waiting to Die

Relax, it’s story time.

So, getting Lyme Disease rocked my world in a way I could’ve never foreseen. I don’t know how many of you out there have a terminal illness, have been faced with one directly, or have friends and family members that have, but it fucks with your head…at first.

A few years back I felt this weird sensation in my leg. The sensation was moving from around my hernia surgery spot, down my leg, and I had no idea what I was feeling.

I went to the “doctor.” This man is headstrong and I hope he falls into a pit of spikes, but first let me introduce you to Dr. Clem Rodriguez. He’s a general doctor, meaning anything you go into him for, can probably be figured out by looking online, asking friends and family, or anyone else but him. I still had a home at that juncture, and he took one look at me and decided I was 100% healthy.

I told him about the weird sensation moving down my leg, within my leg. He looked at me like I was crazy (first red flag). I associated it with my hernia surgery since it seemed to have started in that area. I thought the mesh, which had been stapled to my ball-hole, had ripped off and was now traveling down my leg. It sounds crazy cause it would have been crazy, had I been correct.

“But you’re so young,” he said, dismissing anything I’d just offered. He volunteered to check the hernia surgery area, pushed pretty hard on the mesh  guaranteeing it was still there.

“So what do I do? This feeling is super weird, I’ve never had it before, and it feels wrong.”

“You’re young, you’re fine. Go home, get some rest.”

I looked at him like the fucking idiot he was and still probably is (HATE YOU “DOC”). Just now, while writing, I had to readjust my entire body, cause my left pinky was feeling TOO MUCH WEIGHT from holding my cell phone. I’m holding it with both hands too. LYME DISEASE!

I went home, feeling weird about his “SO YOUNG” diagnosis, and the sensation spread to the leg which it was invading. See, the thing about Lyme Disease, is that it goes everywhere, unchecked.

Rewind maybe 6 months back. I saw a weird-looking bite or injury, not sure what it was, but it was near my crotch, with an accompanying rash. “What the hell?” I thought. Then I thought “I’m…gonna see if this goes away,” and IT DID, but it didn’t.

The weird-ass bite, with the accompanying rash, was a tick bite. (I do NOT remember where I was when I was bitten. They’re stealthy little fuckers. But I do remember that bite, that night, this fight, not right). If Lyme advances enough…well…I’ll get there.

The sensation near my crotch and to my leg increased. My leg was hurting for, seemingly, no reason. “I’m SO YOUNG” remember?? (I was 32 when the mass confusion began). I went back to the doctor.

“My leg hurts now. Remember how I said whatever was moving in my leg? Now my leg hurts. What’s wrong?”

Can you guess what he told me? Go ahead, try. Give it a shot. He didn’t. Give me a shot that is. “You’re so young! It’s nothing. Go home and rest, you’ll be fine.”

Outrage comes in many forms. I think, at this point, I was maybe a little scared that I wasn’t being taken care of, by the medical “professional” whose charge it was to “Do no harm,” only THIS fuckface was doing YES harm. I’ll add that this doctor possibly grew up in a culture where failure was not only looked down upon, but punished when found.


I started calling the administration at the office without wanting to go in to see Dr. Clem Rodriguez. I didn’t want to see him cause I was slowly losing faith in his ability to treat me as a patient, as a sick human. Clearly he is a sick human, in the head, not able to accept failure of any kind.

Failure teaches us. The only true failure is not trying to improve ourselves as humans. If we fall, we don’t ONLY get back up, but we can examine WHY we fell, reexamine our actions, and try again. This doctor was omniscient, apparently, because he COULDN’T be wrong about his misdiagnosis…but he was. He was dead, fucking, wrong.

The pain which had permeated my leg and my crotch, had moved again. “Hey left leg, how are you feeling? You’re about to feel SO YOUNG” (see what I did there? I used Dr. Clem’s backwards logic to poke fun at his stupid ass).

I would walk to Meltdown Comics for comedy shows, as the duplex (from Duplex Comedy Suplex) was only a few miles away. I could hoof it, especially since I HAD functioning legs…why not use ’em? Occasionally my legs would feel a little wobbly. I liken it to one of those push-puppets. I’d been smoking medicinal marijuana, and, thought it could maybe be chalked up to that.

“Hey guys, ya know how sometimes when you’re really high and walking, your legs will feel all wobbly?”

I was dismissed as crazy there too, cause NO ONE KNEW WHAT THE HELL I WAS TALKING ABOUT.

Doc time again. “You’re so young!” Anger. Appointment with neurologist. By this point I’d started using my grandma Beryl’s cane.

Grandma died a little into the weak legs of it all and, when we all visited for the funeral service, we also went to her old house. Time to take something to remember Grandma by. “I know” I thought, “My legs have been feeling a little weird. I’ll take one of her canes.” I did, and didn’t have to use it till a few months later, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew. I was sick. This wasn’t going away magically from my youth. “Hopefully I won’t be needing this in a few months,” I said, jokingly. I fucking knew. I knew “Hey, maybe I’m dying too. I don’t know what’s wrong, but maybe this’ll mitigate some of the pain and weirdness I’d been feeling.” The cane was a comfort, but it didn’t start any healing process.

After  ringing home a score from a mis-ordered Postmates, I began to eat some of that delicious pizza from Garage Pizza. My bites were too big, and the heat of the jalapeños helped to ensure my throat was blocked. I was choking, not getting much air. I asked my roommate to drive me to the hospital, which he held over my head for the longest time. Probably still does. “I DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL” he’d say in later rage fits. I hope, any of you out there, never hold taking a friend to the hospital over their heads. It fucks with you. (Fucking asshole move).

The doc at this hospital doubted anything was wrong. My legs were wobbly, I waited in the ER waiting room, got my vitals taken, waited in a bed. Sometimes my heart monitor was reading “?” instead if a bpm. “That can’t be good” I thought. “Are you in any medications?” the doctress asked (I know doctress isn’t a word, I’m using it to belittle her entire way of thinking because of what came next). “I don’t take any medicine, even using medical marijuana for muscle pains.” Her countenance changed. She’d gone from wanting to help, to patronizing asshole in an instant. Accused of “freaking out” I was flustered. “You’re having a reaction” (fucking asshole motherfucker stupid ignorant piece of shit) “The reason I’m so flustered is because I’m trying to tell you what’s wrong and you’re dismissing it instantly because I brought up medical marijuana.” I was released shortly after. “What if, while walking home I collapse on the ground?” She didn’t seem to give a fuck, chalking it up to “Crazy one weed! He must be SO HIGH” (fucking dismissive ignorant FUCK). I called my roommate  he picked me up, and would then hold this night over my head for an inordinate amount of time.

The sensation, which had turned into sharp and dull pains had now moved into my left arm. “YOU’RE SO YOUNG JUST GET SOME REST.”

“Doug, why didn’t you just go to another doctor?” Only to get dicked around by THEM TOO? (also there was a proximity issue, especially now). I’m on, and was on, Medi-Cal. To change doctors it could take months, have to wait for the new card to come in the mail, also I wasn’t thinking straight cause I WAS SO YOUNG!

Right arm. “YOU’RE SO YOUNG!” Home, frustrated, tired, sick of being sick.

My then roommate jumped into action. He posted on his Facebook wall about my general condition. His co-worker told me I should get tested for Lyme. “Tell him to ask for the test otherwise they’ll never organically test for it.”

Insurance, is set up like a corporation. If they don’t make money, they’re not happy. If patients die from something, and they’re receiving medicine and doctor’s visits for free, “HEY WE’VE SAVED SOME MONEY HERE!”

I didn’t know what was wrong, but I did know that something was severely wrong. Maybe I had cancer. Maybe a tumor was growing in my brain, blocking my ability to get proper oxygen flow to my limbs. Maybe cracking my arms and legs (like one cracks their knuckles) had worn my ligaments down and they were ready to pop. Maybe it was myriad things I couldn’t fathom. I knew Dr. Clem Rodriguez was full of shit. My other arm started having the same issue as the left, and I went to Dr. Fuckface one last time.

Side note: One day, while walking to Meltdown, I thought “Well, if I die tomorrow  or in a couple years…I’ve lived a good life. A fun life. If this is it, and I die, that sucks. But what can I do?” Coming to terms with your own death is an interesting point to reach. I don’t recommend it to everyone, but I’m there.

Cane in hand, basically stumbling into the office, the motherfucker gave me the same bullshit diagnosis again. At this point I was basically waiting to die. “I wanna get tested for Lyme Disease. *head tilts* from the doctor and his assistant. “We’re you hiking, or out in nature?” “Where have you been?” “Okayyy, we’ll test for it…”


(I didn’t say any of that, but it’s precisely how I felt)

4 days passed and I got a phone call.

“We’re gonna need you to come in to discuss the results of your test.”

“Is it something you can just tell me over the phone?”


I knew I’d been right. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong all this time, and laziness mixed with fear of being wrong (fucking stupid-ass Dr. Clem Rodriguez I hope he trips and breaks his face and then fire ants come to lick it all up while stinging his eyes).

I went in, they confirmed that I was right. It was Lyme Disease! They’d never treated anyone with it so they didn’t have a fucking clue what to look for, and they still asked me where I was when I got bit. Motherfucker I told you I don’t remember exactly where I was when I got bit, but I did remember the bite and the “bullseye rash”.

Specialist time. Time to rid myself of this Dr. Fuckface for good. They sent me to an infectious diseases doctor. She dismissed my blood results, tried to convince me otherwise. “I’m gonna send you to another specialist, I’m not convinced it’s Lyme.” I’m being fucked with. Am I being Punk’d? What the fuck is going on here?

Insurance (remember insurance from earlier?) encourages doctors to “TRY AND CONVINCE THEM OTHERWISE” if someone comes in claiming chronic Lyme Disease. Oh, you didn’t know that the medicine is SO expensive that rather than heal people, insurance would rather see people slowly die? Well, that’s what they do.

I called the administration at Dr. Fuckface, she tried to convince me to come in to THEN get a different referral, but I was steadfast. I got a referral and an appointment by sticking up for myself.

Enter Dr. Jordan. A blood test was administered (AGAIN) to make sure it corroborated with my current results.

“Not only do you have Lyme Disease  but you also have parvovirus.” Parvo comes from dogs. You can get it by a dog licking your face. This is another reason among a few that I don’t care too much about dogs. Some are chill. Some have fucking Parvo. “Luckily it’s the same medicine as Lyme.”

I’ve had 2 full sets of the medication. It’s expensive af (INSURANCE IS A SCAM) so they had to give it to me in sets. 5 treatments, months of waiting, 5 more treatments, months more of waiting.

Im currently undergoing my 3rd set of treatments.

“But Doug, you’re homeless aka Roofless. How and where are they treating you?”

I’m being treated at an infusion room next to the pharmacy which had been providing the medicine. I’m 3 treatments deep, still feeling little difference. I need consistent treatment, till I’m healed. (hey THERE’S AN IDEA!) But the medicine is expensive, insurance, you get it by now.

There are more details to fill in, but this is long, and I’m writing a book about my life called “LDFS: Growing up Mormon, Discovering Weed at 30, and then Getting Lyme Disease”.

Book publishers, HIT, ME, UP.

Venmo: Doug-Culp


Chronicles of “A Homeless” Pt. 2

As I sit in this chair for over an hour waiting on my nurse, who is late af (pre-posting: 2 hrs), to administer my Lyme Disease meds, I wonder a lot.

I wonder why my friend Joe wants my piano out of his place after he volunteered to house it “while you’re going through some stuff” aka while I’m homeless aka Roofless. My piano, is not his problem. My Lyme Disease guarantees I don’t have the strength to move it, and my homelessness guarantees I don’t have a place to store it.

Am I in the wrong, asking for some compassion here? He goes “my place is small, this is a “gigantic piano”. It’s not. It’s one of the smallest pianos in existence, actually. It’s SO small, that it breaks down into two pieces which each have cases and it can be neatly tucked off to the side. (His place is NOT small. Small is a relative term. To tell me your apt/condo/house is small, while I live in my CAR, is insensitive and uncaring. I think his gf is the cause of his stress, which sucks cause he’s a good guy, and she’s germaphobic.

Anyway, again, my piano is NOT his problem. My parents might be able to house it in their house/garage. They live in Utah. My car is now a piece of shit, I don’t have money to fix it, nor gas money to drive to Utah, otherwise I might get a truck, ask some movers to lift it into said truck, and truck it up over the weekend.

Anyone have a little time/gas/vehicle with which to help me out?

My podcast released episode 223 – Jesus Diaz, today. We had an awesome talk about life, weed, parallel universes, and Dark Souls 3. I didn’t know till that episode record that it dealt with parallel universes. What a fun-sounding game! We’re gonna play and record it, maybe do voices for some of the characters. OR on #ApplePodcasts OR on #Stitcher.

So my YAMAHA CP-70 piano is up in the air. Quick story of how I got this piano: I saw one on Craigslist years and years ago. It was $500 and I was married and did not have the money to get it. It was quickly snatched up, and I kept a bead on all the CP-70s I’d find for the next year. I’d gotten a piano free off Craigslist in like 2008, which I restored, tuned, and played. It shattered into a thousand pieces on a move from my old manager Patrick’s place to Facundo’s (Facundo had a pool in back!! This was also the move which led to Josh moving out with Tyler and I and the Nerd Trifecta was complete. Gary came too, but quickly realized he didn’t want to have roommates, so he moved into my ex-gf’s place in Irvine. That’s another blog post). 2nd free piano off Craigslist was heavy as hell and the YAMAHA CP-70 replaced it. I was able to fit this on in my room! I played, wrote songs, wrote a song about my divorce, and slept beneath it. Ex-wife took the bed and I was fine with that, as long as I had piano. Slept on the floor. Moved to L.A. with the piano, which also fit in THAT room in Ana’s place (another blog). I moved the piano to the duplex, where I hosted #DuplexComedySuplex for 2 yrs out of the living room (a free stand-up comedy show for which I made an entire font so that I could make the 2nd year poster…another blog post).

After a while of living in L.A., chasing the dream(s), it was evident that I would not be able to remain at the duplex, much less pay for it (another blog post). I needed a place for the piano to rest. My friend Joe, who’d been to Duplex Comedy Suplex a couple times, offered to help. It’s currently at his place and he wants it ~”the FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE”~ (paraphrasing of course). Anyway, I feel his frustration, almost to the poo y of violence, seeming as though he and his gf would hurl it onto the road as if to say “Not my fucking problem”. I was given a week to find a new place for it.

Please help.

If you can, Venmo: Doug-Culp some amount to try and help.

Any donations are very much appreciated, as I’m currently a burden on family and friends (emotional mostly, no one is supporting me through this fully. I’ve decided to live my life to try and end all homelessness in the world, while still writing shows/movies, recording podcasts, releasing all of my creative energies into the world while being feeble af from the Lyme Disease.

This is part of my story.

Please spread the word.

Hope you’re well. Please help me get my piano somewhere so I don’t drive off a cliff and end up in a proverbial hell.

Love ya buds. Thanks for reading.




The Aquabats

Saturday was a cool, crazy day.

My brother drove down as soon as he could to pick me up from my car-tent (see previous post aka Roofless). We went to Denny’s at my request and I ordered off the special Solo menu. Two Moons, over medium eggs. It was good. These days I’m mostly looking for something that will be easy to eat, cause Lyme Disease has ravaged my entire system.

When someone tells you they have Lyme Disease  believe them. Listen to them. Don’t give advice. Don’t look sad. Just treat me as if I’m a normal human who’s fighting a disease. I’m fighting it every day. (tomorrow getting more meds cause I’m feeble af. This will come back in the rest of my blog post)

Denny’s, check. Free parking near a bunch of tents where a small group was living. (see how I didn’t just say “a bunch o’ homeless people”? I am one of them. It’s easy to group people, especially the disparate masses for whom “WE’VE DONE ALL WE CAN. GOOD LUUUUUUCK.”) Check. Got to the line at like 5. Doors at 6:30 (really more like 7 tho).

Robbie (my 36 year old brother) is starstruck with all the awesome Aquabats cosplay. Oh, you’ve never seen the Aquabats? Most fans of theirs dress up like them/like versions of Aquabats. It’s fun as hell. So Rob’s like “That’s that dude, who makes his own commissions for merch.” Happy to talk with everyone who’s in line for the show. (a fun thing about Aquabats shows is that they’re ALL-AGES, so I waited till we were inside to heavily engage in any conversation. Didn’t even heavily engage, but I did dance my proverbial ass off…more on that later).

We ran and got merch before the show. Rob got me the limited edition pink vinyl of The Fury of The Aquabats, and he got a shirt and some enamel pins. I ran everything to the car before the show started, then navigated my way back through the The Fonda line and they remembered me from when I stepped out.

The show was about to begin  me standing there like a fucking idiot with my cane and feeble body ~3 standing rows from The Front. (The Front is a steadier place where I’d be able to lean on “the bars” so I wouldn’t have to crumple into a pile on the floor after my ligaments give out from the pressure.)

The opening band is IDK How, But They Found Me. Bassist from Panic! At The Disco, and his drummer (I don’t remember their individual names). They were fun, and good. The first song, I’ll never forget, talked about how “🎶No one likes the opening band🎶”. I laughed a few times to each punchline as I closely listened. I couldn’t hear some of the other songs cause the vocal mic needed some more volume. They had a fun set.

The curtain dropped, some people left The Front, and I was able to secure a hand on the bar, while being casually pushed back by this boyfriend/girlfriend couple who were drunk and making out. At one point I had to drop my arm cause it was feeling weak (I AM REALLY VERY PHYSICALLY WEAK FROM LYME DISEASE. A LOT OF PEOPLE DON’T BELIEVE IT CAUSE THEY HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT IT IS). The drunkies left The Front as the girlfriend character seemed like she was fading out. I finally had a spot!

Secure against the bars in The Front, it was now officially ON.

Oh shit, I forgot to mention, The Aquabats released this album called The Fury of The Aquabats 20 yrs ago. This was a show where they played through the entire album front to back. I know this album so well that, as the MC Bat Commander was reading the verbiage from Captain Hampton and the Midget Pirates, he stopped and playfully said ~”Do you wanna finish it?” I did, but he kept going.

Travis Barker aka the drummer for Blink 182 aka Baron Von Tito made an appearance for a few songs in the middle of the album playthrough. That was dope. I remember seeing him play with the band live all those years ago.

There were lots of inflatables, smoke on the stage, and the band was having fun. They usually do. I sang along to every word. The whole time my belt was rubbing against my shirt and into the bars, ensuring a weird metallic sweat-filled stain on my Rx Bandits Progress shirt. Battle scars. Come with the territory.

I was reminded earlier of a time I saw The Aquabats play HOB San Diego. A boyfriend wanted to propose onstage to his girlfriend during “Red Sweater”. He didn’t, know, the words, to the crux of the song. It was embarrassing for everyone involved  especially to the new fiance.

They finished their set, they came back for an encore, and during Pool Party, the Bat Commander tosses me the mic during the chorus! They had a camera in my face from behind “the bars” and I sang my little heart out. It was dope af. I also caught Ricky Fitness’ drumstick at the end of the show.

All exhausted, me a sweaty mess, I was ready to go. Rob wanted to wait around for the band. I’m glad we did, cause we met Crash and he said he might do my podcast! (#YAMATAT aka #YouAndMeAndThoughtsAndTalkwithDougCulp).

We ate at Tommy’s after the show, I was able to take a shit in their toilet, then I was taken back to the car-tent.

Earlier I went to Maria Bamford’s hour set at 4pm. Right now I’m waiting to go into this other show (both free). This one has Andy Kindler, Hampton Yount, Subhah Agarwal, and Kaseem Bentley! It’s gonna be dope.

I found parking w/o street sweeping for tomorrow, so the car-tent will probably go up after the show. Being homeless is weird af. I’m dealing.

I had to call Chase to beg them to reverse an overdraft charge which occurred at the same time as a Venmo payment, which would have brought me back into the green!

Speaking of green, I have a gig coming up on 4/20. Hell yeah.

If anyone wants to donate to the #DougCanHardlyPayHisBills Foundation, my Venmo is: Doug-Culp.

Meanwhile I got a match on Tinder, I tried to play some Pot Farm: Grass Roots on a stream earlier, and I’m super active on social medias.

Oh yeah, I finished watching #WildWildCountry last night (on a Netflix 30-day trial) and it’s SO GOOD. Watch it. WATCH IT! 😌😌

All right. This was long, could’ve been longer. I’m getting ready to go sit in the show space.

Oh yeah, come see me do stand-up in Glendale on 4/21! I’ve gotta update my show calendar on (but under the shows section). It’s a FREE SHOW!

Love ya buds.




I’ve been doing stand-up for 10 yrs. Been writing for ~7, hosting my podcast #YAMATAT aka #YouAndMeAndThoughtsAndTalkwithDougCulp for over 4 yrs, hosted a stand-up show for 2 yrs.

In all this time I’ve made choices I’ve seen as the most true for me. The awakening happened after my divorce. “Which life am I living  and which life do I want to live?”

Andrew Santino made fun of Kevin Hart for being short on twitter. I came at him pretty hard with “…HAHAHA…” adding that it’s super funny to make fun of people for being short. Genetics guarantee humor, is the point HE was trying to make.

“Doug. Unfollow me.” he pleaded. If you wanna see the whole thing, it’s up on twitter still under my Quote-RT of his comment on Kevin Hart’s height. (@dougathan)

I called, calling someone short and then laughing about it, hack and boring. I added that, ginger to ginger, it’s lame and unfunny when people ask about our collective freckles. He hasn’t responded, which must mean there’s been some time for quiet reflection. More likely he’s muted me or he’s gonna block me.

He must be sad, which is relatable. I’m homeless aka Roofless, and I’ve been sad. Sad that I’m in this spot. Sad that I’ve been here for ~4 yrs and no one has offered me a book deal, a pitch meeting, nor booked me on Hollywoo Stars & Celebrities! What Do They Know? Do They Know Things? Let’s Find Out! (thank you BoJack Horseman for existing)

I have many friends who run their own weekly stand-up shows. Friends I’ve booked, sometimes multiple times, on #DuplexComedySuplex (@duplexcomedy on twitter). Have they booked me on their shows? No. Not a one.

When I say I take comedy seriously, I mean it.

I’m writing several shows/movies, ha e ideas for ~11 more, and I have written 10 scripts (7 original, 3 spec). I’ve got a zombie show, a sitcom w/2 eps, a CARTOON w/2 eps, another sitcom, etc, you get it.

Once I was offered a position at American Dad as a writer’s PA, but it would’ve conflicted directly with my stand-up show (Duplex Comedy Suplex) so I asked if, Thursdays, I could duck out at like 6~6:30. They silently declined, didn’t tell me, and probably thought to themselves “Who the FUCK does this guy think he is?”

I’m the guy who’s going to end all homelessness in the entire world (#EndALLHomelessness) with an idea that’s too sensitive to broadcast, otherwise it’d get monetized and fucked and the homeless would remain homeless forever.

I want to help the world.

I’m a comedian, I have Lyme Disease, and I grew up Mormon. I’m writing an autobiography…I may have blogged about it previously, but who’s to say you went through my back catalog and read up on me? Not I. (quick sidebar: if you know anyone employing “_______ & I’s ______” please swiftly correct it as I’s is NOT a word at all, not even close)

I have loads to offer the world, and I’d love to share it with everyone, most definitely including ending homelessness in the entire world.

I’m homeless aka Roofless rn, so it makes things a bit more difficult.

“Do more shows! Go to more shows! Get a job!” they say. Been doing the going, I’d LOVE to do more shows, I even have a pretty kick-ass tape which booked me a stand-up tour up the coast and thru to Bend, OR, in May.

I hear comedians like to try out new stuff and hash out new bits at shows.

Book me, please, on those shows. Book me cause you know I’m funny and an amiable comedian. Book me cause I’ve put in the work to spread (hopefully) joy with my material. Did YOU KNOW Lyme Disease could be funny? If it’s me talking about my own #LymeDisease, perhaps it can!

“Don’t say you’re homeless, you’re a touring comedian.” they say. Fuck that, I AM homeless! I’m pretty happy with what I’ve been able to do, while also being part of the forgotten, disparate masses.

My podcast is releasing episode 222 tomorrow, from the backseat of the car-tent, where I’ve been car-sleeping in my self-appointed tiny home, doing some urban camping.

I don’t have a studio in which to record, I have a few friends here and there who’ve helped me out with a place to crash for the night, some of that sweet sweet wifi. I’ve gotten high with a little help from my friends.

I’ve avoided paying my phone bill, cause it bounced when they tried on the first. I’m surviving with gas/food/bills money, barely, I have three unpaid parking tickets (brought to you by Xerox), unpaid/expired car registration, and still car insurance to pay every month.

Im at an impasse. I’ll let my podcast pass right to you, at, and then I don’t know what.

“Blog more! Be seen! Stop being homeless!” In so many words I’ve made it evident that, rather than moving to my parent’s house, where weed would never be allowed and I’d be forced to sign a parent/child contract, that I’d rather die in the streets pursuing what I love than to admit temporary failure and possibly move back in a few yrs when I’ve been able to MAYBE save up enough.

I’ve worked too hard, and now that my times are hard again, I’ve come up with that plan to end all homelessness.

So, let’s see:

1. End all homelessness 2. Stand-up comedy (TOUR SOON) 3. Writing 4. Font creation (oh yeah I made a font, and you can see it here if you’d like: 5. Autobiography in progress 6. Podcast host/producer 7. I made my own website out of an empty notepad doc (brother in-law helped to keep it literally together for bigger/smaller screens) 8. Bilingual Spanish/English 9. Music (I’ve been writing music for about 15 yrs now on liano/guitar) 10. Video game creation (I ha e many ideas for badass video games in VR, some of which I plan to build set pieces myself, out of items I own)

I’d go on, cause there’s more I’ve done and want to do, and that’s great! I need help though.

Book me. Hire me. Find me an RV in which to sleep. Help me get on podcasts so I can let people know who I am, so I can be taken seriously with my plan to #EndALLHomelessness.

If you love me, if I’ve made you laugh, if we’ve shared any good time together, please reach out to me, to friends who run shows, to show runner friends, to networks so I can pitch my cool-ass shows, to podcast hosts/producers, shit mention to Andrew Santino that I’m homeless and a ginger and that I mean no ill will, other than to call out hack jokes and hopefully cultivate the comedy scene into something beautiful.

Patreon, Stitcher Premium, Max Fun, Kickstarter all have paid platforms for extra content and extra episodes. Some of these comics, I’m sure, don’t wanna have to do that, it they are so that we can all keep living our happy lives and hopefully not become homeless, like I am. Like many are and have been.

Book me, book me, and fucking dammit please book me. Let’s burn one or do some shrooms together. Let’s eat Rally’s fries and talk about things we all want to do and accomplish. Let’s share our love of things we love cause this life is too short to punch down. Punch-up, I’d also love to do punch-up on scripts if that’s still a job.

Please help me not be Roofless anymore, so that I can help everyone in the world have a home.

Homelessness can end. I have a solution. Please pass this on to everyone you know and love. Share it. Care it.

Love ya buds.