I'm on The Case

How come cops in movies are always being threatened by higher ups that if they don't get their act together they'll be writing parking tickets. Wouldn't a safe job like writing tickets be a welcomed departure from being shot at. Shouldn't it be the other way around. Shouldn't the detective ask for ticket duty because getting shot at is getting to be a drag?

Basically they're being told. If you mess up you'll get a way easier job for similar pay. It's the same logic that always made me think school suspensions were silly but detentions make sense.

PRINCIPAL: Hate school, do ya? Wanna keep acting up? Well, I'll show you. Why don't you stay at home all next week. Feel the burn?

I say, having trouble in school. How about some more school so you can better address those problems.

I used to get suspended at least once a year for fighting when I was in elementary school. I can't say I enjoyed the suspensions. I mean I did feel like a dry, cracking heel. But at the same time it was fun and refreshing to catch up on old re-runs of the Odd Couple, Bob Newhart and Quincy.

I get that these movie cops take pride in their jobs and they genuinely want to catch the bad guys. But with a clueless captain always threatening to throw them off the case and/or chew their butts off, I say write the parking tickets. The bad guy is gonna escape in part II anyway.

Touched By an Angel

A few days ago I was on parked on Sunset Blvd sifting through my mobile closet I call my car trunk. At any point, I have enough clothes in my trunk to go and start a new life somewhere else. Roll into a new town with just the clothes on my back...and in my backseat...and in my trunk.

My closet raid was interrupted by a friendly passerby. I saw him approaching and I could tell he was the kind of person that will turn even the slightest eye contact into a full blown BFF conversation. I knew this and yet his whole being yearned for a speckle of human interaction. Against my better judgment I nodded and smiled in his direction. Once I grin he's in game begin...

I was in a rush but this guy probably stared down twenty people before me without receiving any acknowledgement of his existence. He probably wasn't homeless but he was homelessy. My grandmother had a theory that she passed on to me that, at any moment anyone might be God coming to test you. Just a stranger on a bus... Not that you should treat people who aren't God like crap but the possibility of them actually being God can really keep you in on your peas and carrots.

I didn't want the next day's headline to read: Dwayne Perkins Snubs God.

So I engaged my non-homeless homeless (NHH) guy. He was friendly and my nodding and affirmations seemed to make his day. But then my charity case made my day. We noticed that he was wearing sweat pants almost identical to a pair in my trunk. He told me he had trouble because the pockets were shallow and had lost a few things because of that. I told him I could dig it. Then he showed me his new pockets. He had zippers installed! And there was my ah-ha moment. It was I who was the charity case. NHH blew my mind.

I have long since wanted to wear track suits 2-3 days a week. Problem? My two prized track suits don't have zippers. What NHH had done was so simple yet so brilliant. Perhaps he was my garment guardian angel. Whatever the case it was definitely a glaring sign that I should implement my track suit plan. As I write this my pants are in the cleaners getting zippers sewn in. Hey world I hope you're ready for my track suits. I'm going Jersey! … Or I'm going Miami … or I'm going Glendale, CA.

The track suit in question.

Now That's What I Call Progress - Volume 1

In show business it behooves you to make as few enemies as possible. Rap music being the lone exception. In rap, a well calculated rhyming war of words can translate into millions. In life in general it makes sense not to burn bridges. Seems like a good idea at the time but you'll regret it when you're swimming through piranha infested water where a bridge used to be.

So I've handled my career with this in mind. I actually like most of the people I know in the business and I'm tight lipped about the ones I don't like; half because maybe I just don't know them well enough yet and half because I don't want to swim with the fishes. So in my whole career I'm actually on record as disliking only one person.

And now the progress report. I hadn't seen my nemesis in a few years and recently had the displeasure of running into him. To my surprise I remembered being on record as not liking him but I could not remember his name. Fair to say I've let it go? The bane of my existence had become a footnote destined not to even make it to future editions of my story.* I would like to say I let go of my mini grudge but in reality I just focused on what was in front of me and kept moving. In time things in the distance became within reach, stationary things in my periphery were left behind, stationary things behind me were left way behind and I forgot who it was I didn't like.

Why the grudge? This guy came into a town I lived in playing the big time executive and dangling a pot of gold in front of the young comics. He tried to tell me I was nervous on stage right after I had in fact had a great set. His aim seemed to throw weight around and shake up the hierarchy that had been established based on funniness. I of course knew he was wrong and full of it. Just four months later I made my 1^st appearance on the Late Night with Conan O'Brien show. I probably should have let go then.

He who does not feel me, is not real to me therefore he doesn't exist so poof...vamoose son of a...**

* reference to a Elvis Costello song, “Everyday I Write The Book”

** line from a Jay-Z song, “H to the Hizo”

Brooklyn's Finest

As luck would have it some friends of mine scored some Jay-Z tickets and invited me to accompany them to his show. As Poetic Justice would have it the show in question is in New York. To say I'm stoked about the show would be an understatement. But still, I keep my excitement understated.

I mentioned to a friend I was heading to New York for a visit highlighted by a Jay-Z concert. I'm not sure if it was my cool delivery or the Brooklyn connection but my friend, who I have known for years, who's been to my place, knows what I drive and how much my mortgage is says to me...

MY FRIEND: That's cool about the show. Do you know Jay-Z?

What?! If I knew Jay-Z my friend, you and everyone I know would know that I know Jay-Z. I would work that in as much as possible. I would need a protective case because I would drop it all the time.

ME: It is unseasonably warm. It's funny because I was just saying the same thing to Jay-Z...yes that Jay-Z. Hov said it wasn't unseasonably warm. Wait till I call Sean and tell him other people also think it's warm. You know Jay's internal thermostat has been off since we were kids.

The bigger point to be made is my friend thinks enough of me to think I run with the likes of Jay-Z. Knowing my financial standing, more or less, my friend must think my talent is great enough to grant me entree to that strata of show business. Perhaps my friend thinks 2^nd and 3^rd tier Brooklyn representers rub elbows with the 1^st tier Brooklynites. Or maybe we report to them on our progress to further our great borough.

JAY-Z: Dwayne, please give your status report...ya heard.

DWAYNE: Well, last month I mentioned Brooklyn in 8 blogs and I've written 3 new jokes that touches upon Brooklyn and least week I wore shirts with the word Brooklyn on it 4 times...Don't you think Beyonce should sit in on these status reports.?

I don't know Jay-Z yet but I know his songs and they speak to me so it seems like I know him. My wish is that people will listen to my comedy ready my blogs and get a sense that they know me. Don't get back cuz you do know me like that...

Zombie FAQs

Sometimes a quick side note becomes so big that it has to become its own blog, a spin-off if you will. (And then Came Maude...)* In a recent post I wrote about people trying to sell their homemade music on Venice Beach. I compared them to Zombies, both in numbers and persistence. This of course led to some Zombie questions...

Why do Zombies and sleep walkers have to walk with their arms straight out or down but stiff? Rigamortis? Are sleep walkers dreaming about being zombies? Zombies should walk with their arms crossed with each arm rubbing the other while trying to stay warm. No? I mean they have no blood running through them so they can't be warm blooded. And why are these dead people 10 times stronger than living people? And what's so good about being un-dead that they want everyone else to be like them? Reminds me of people who live in LA who complain daily but are always encouraging people to move here.

It's like one person depicted Zombies and we were forever stuck with that representation. How about portraying cunning Zombies that live amongst us and use stealth tactics to attack the living. Or would they have to reclassified as Body Snatchers?

I actually have no interest in Zombies but I'm very intrigued by people who are into with Zombiism. Is it really fun? What's the deal with Zombie Walks? People in Non-third world countries have a lot of free time on their hands. I'll tell you that much. Shouldn't real Zombies use the Zombie walk day to plan a real attack. Catch us off guard. Sounds like a groovy movie premise. Hands off it's mine (providing it hasn't been done already. :-)

It's probably all in the Zombie White paper I haven't read.

Youtube Zombie walks if you have 15 minutes to kill...or be killed.

*”Maude” was a 70's sitcom that was a spin off of “All in The Family”

“Good Times” was spun off “Maude”

“Facts of Life” Spun off “Different Strokes” as was “Hello Larry”

“Fraiser” was spun off “Cheers”...it's a fun game.

I Tan Corrected

So I'm at my gym the other day and I got an offer that I could resist. A girl from the tanning salon in the same strip mall as my gym was handing out half-off coupons. As she handed it to me I of course laughed and thought to myself, the tanning promotion girl's got a keen sense of humor and impeccable timing.

Maybe she was hitting on me or just being silly. Or maybe she saw me and said to herself, “How can I make it into his blog?” As she handed me the coupon, as if for good measure, she said:

TANNING GIRL: Maybe you can go even out your tone.

Or, maybe she figured there's one born every minute so why not throw out a net and see if she pulls in a sucker. Perhaps she wasn't exercising her sense of humor but working on saying outrageous things with a straight face. Which, as we should know by now, can make a person millions. I mean if you can sell tanning services to a black man then the Eskimos don't stand a chance when you come with your tidings of ice. Perhaps this Manhattan Beach, California girl had Philadelphia style hustle.

I was almost amused to the point of taking her up on her offer. See the silliness through to the end. Almost. I am often encouraged by my commercial auditions where all the other guys are white and somehow they bring me in. It's like the breakdown* called for everyday white guys and Dwayne. I'm flattered that they feel they can sell their products with the likes of me without it necessarily being a “Black” commercial...Cuz they're not so stingy**.

But I think I will self impose and draw the line at tanning booths. The only booth you'll see me in will be in a diner or a late night karaoke bar.

*Breakdown – description of a role that a producer is casting for

**quote from the silliest McDonald's commercial ever. Hopefully Tongue and Cheek, hopefully. Also check out my blog about being recognized in Mcdonald’s.

Two All Beef Patties...

A few weeks ago I found myself in a Mcdonald's in New York City at 2am. Not my proudest moment or the best way to treat myself but the Golden Arches beckoned me. The Apple Pocket tastes better at 2am (pie is something you eat with a fork.) In fact, as the night passes, the fried apple slab continues to get tastier every hour until the Sun comes up and with it rises your better judgment.

I'm in line waiting to order my setback when the the guy in front of me, having ordered his nuggets with an extra side sauce with some difficultly and slurred words, turned his attention to me. Did he need me to supplement his meal? As I looked at him looking at me, he did the drunk finger in the air as you ponder move. There's no telling where that finger's going to come down and what it's going to do. On this night the finger came down into a point in my direction. Followed by...

GUY: I know you! You're funny dude. Hey this guy is famous! What are you doing in McDonald's?!

Why I'm getting a meal I'm going to instantly regret, of course. Isn't that what we're all doing here? I enjoy getting recognized from time to time and my Mickey D's cohort was friendly and clearly a fan. I wonder if I get any more “famous” if I'll have to give up occasional 2am Mcdonald's runs.

MY STOMACH: Come on man get famous already!...Please!

Or maybe I'll be given the coordinates to the hidden McDonald's that other famous people go to. Then I could enjoy my Apple Pocket in the VIP section. Denzel, are you gonna finish those fries?

Nothing Honey

I'm done with honey that doesn't come in a bottle shaped like a bear. Honey in a regular jar just doesn't cut it for me anymore. Give me a bear or give me sugar. Besides the obvious perk of pretending the bear can talk and chopping it up with him while you sip your tea...

ME: Wow Teddy, this tea is awesome. Thanks man! By the way what's Miss Buttersworth like?

TEDDY: I only met her once at this condiment party. She was cool. Very sweet girl.

ME: That's good. I hate it when famous people are jackasses in real life...

There is also the matter of honey application. The squeeze is exponentially better than the pour. When I pour honey out of a jar or use a spoon to scoop it out, I end up with honey all over the place. Throughout the day I'll find honey in and on odd places: my elbow (even though I had on a long sleeve shirt), on my shoes, on my kitchen counter tops, underneath my bed...

The bear shaped bottle is not only cute, it's efficient and clean. Although, bees may be going extinct so honey in any shaped bottle may soon be hard to come by. Save the bees please.

Save The Bees