John McClellan cannonballs into the heartland of America for 3 stand up comedy smash ups May 23-25 in Illinois and Michigan! Click here for tickets venue and show information.

I am posting part of a piece that I did as a series for a Baltimore sports radio station about what a sports bar should really be like in order to promote my new live sports comedy commentary Twitter account  The Couch Coach Network (@ccnlive). We are ripping into every live nationally televised sporting event as well as some regional NFL, NBA, NCAA and MLB games of note. I hope you will follow @ccnlive as well as retweet what you think are our best lines. In the meanwhile… I will be at the (sports) bar.

It seems that every bar that I walk into calls themselves a “Sports Bar.” Not so fast. Simply tuning your TV’s to a “sports” channel qualifies you to be a sports bar as much as buying a jersey allows you to bang Eva Longoria. I understand why places leave sports on all day. Restaurant and bar owners want their customers to have a good time while they are in their establishment so they don’t want people distracted with all the horrible things going on in the world like earthquakes, crime or “Glee”. So sports it is…

But to really be a sports bar you should have to set yourself apart from regular bars with the way you run your business. First of all you want to keep children and anyone that has ever ordered biscotti without being sarcastic out of the area so a sports bar should be like the adult movie section of your old neighborhood video store: It’s in the back corner of the place and you enter through old time saloon style doors under a sign that plainly reads “Adults Only-Must be 18 Years of Age.” Secondly, every TV should have sporting events on. EVERY FUCKING ONE. Not guys in turtlenecks and ponytails talking about sports. And by sports, I mean GAMES. Baseball, Basketball, UFC matches, Horse Racing, Australian Rules Football, South American body snatching, Chinese monkey punching-I don’t care what it is as long as it’s run back to back and nonstop like episodes of “Law And Order.”

To me one of the reasons that someone would go to a sports bar would be to recreate the feeling of actually going to a sporting event-so why can’t a sports bar try to be more like the stadium? Let people bring their own chairs and let them grill out in the bar like they do in the parking lot. Encourage patrons to throw snowballs and bottles after bad calls like they do at the game. Show shots of the bar owner in his luxury box on the security camera every time one of his employees does something good. And have the bathroom set up like stadium bathrooms but pipe in random crowd cheering because if you think you are missing a big play it will keep the line moving.

Now in order to be successful the 21st century, you need to be interactive. That’s why the sports bar of the future should also have showers. If a guy gets out of line or switches from beer to white zinfandel the manager will come out, take his drink away, pat him on the butt, motion for the lefthander because he is done for the day.

It has been a while since I lived out of a car on purpose. The “Stars and Bars Stand Up Tour” I recently completed was a good one and deserves a recap…

The wheel job from NYC to first official night of the tour at Celtic Ray in Punta Gorda FL was 20 hour stretch so a stop was in order and I wanted it to be productive. I found a comedy club about half way and convinced them to give me a spot as an audition and a rehearsal of sorts for me. I got there early enough to brush my teeth in the parking lot and check escape routes. The universe will give you signs if you are paying attention and mine came about 20 minutes befor I pulled in the parking lot. The road into town had tobacco plants planted next to a graveyard. I tweeted that this was the only area you would see something like this and the only area that can not see the irony in it… A crowd of 15 stumbled in slowly to the venue and my turn at the mike came early in the show. Doing well in front of 400 people is real cool, hitting it with a small crowd is a ridiculious high and I’m clipping it people. After my set I talked to the oddly indifferent owner who told me that he’s unwilling to add me to his talent rotation. It’s his place, so he can run it as he sees fit. But what stuns me is what he says after that. “You’re close… You’ll get there.” Sorry scallop bag, I just turned a room with 15 people in it upside down-I’m THERE. I will also be THERE 6 months from now when your club is dollar store. On my way out of town I passed the tobacco lined graveyard and it all came into perspective for me.

The next couple of shows were well attended and I had good performances (capped by a standing o one night!) But the show in Clearwater FL at Jack’s Joint was my favorite of the tour. A 11th hour addition to the tour, this show was on a night they are not normally open. We knew ahead of time the crowd might be light, however the point of this show was to expand the fan base into a new market and the Coconut’s Comedy Club people really got behind the show. I phoned the club to see what they were saying about the upcoming performance and was told “Sunday night we have a real special show! John McClellan from “Millionaire Matchmaker” will be here. He’s been around a long time and has done a lot of shit!” I love the fact that the guy was so excited about it but the best part was he was right. I HAVE done a lot of shit. Not all of it good-but it’s out there and it can be verified by a long list of ex-girlfriends and attorneys. That night was, in my mind, some of the best stand up I have done in a while. Good enough to ease the sting of doing my wash in a strip center the next day.

Good nights at the Orlando Improv and at the Bleu Pub in Valdosta, GA followed with the last stop on the coast of North Carolina at Playhouse 211. Normally a theater space, Playhouse 211 offered up a night of my stand up as a special engagement. We had a full house but not my normal crowd of 40 oz bangers. The lot was full of Lincolns and import 4 doors and I’m telling you, if I don’t see a car with some primer on it, I get a little edgy. The dressing room had a bottle of single malt waiting for me and as I mentioned before-the universe will give you a sign if you stay aware. I accepted 2 glasses of this gesture and took the stage after Doug Canney set the table for me. I spent the next 60 minutes doing my show like I was trying to talk my out of a speeding ticket. Turned out to be a good idea. At least I think it was. When I came around to the front of the theater to sign some pictures (a custom at the Playhouse 211) I heard a pounding on the showroom door. The fucker was locked! These folks had to stay for the whole show whether they wanted to or not.

The Stars and Bars Stand Up Tour was a real success. You can check out the pictures from the shows on my Facebook page. Every venue on this run was a new one for me with the exception of the Improv and I will be returning to all of these clubs as soon as I run out of fireworks.

The cold sad truth of modern life is that it is easier to break people out of prison than to get them to leave their homes. The problem however is not getting out of the jailhouse – but getting in there in the first place. As I sifted through my mail recently I opened a letter from the local court. The letter was to inform me of a warrant for my arrest and to alert me that I could turn myself in at MY CONVENIENCE!

“Hello (Name of felon). We need your help! The recent economic downturn has left us without the manpower needed to personally handcuff you for (Type of infraction). In order to avoid public embarrassment, please report to (Address of police station) between (Hours of operation) with cash or money order for (Amount of bail).
Thanks!
(Name of woman with really long fake nails)

Let me get this straight, I’m wanted by the law, but not enough to climb a flight of stairs? Why don’t you just send me a Facebook invitation? It’s closing time at the City Hall saloon and I’m a last call outlaw. If you can’t cram my arrest into your crazy schedule… farm it out the Post Office. My slackjaw mail carrier can find their way here (Who do think “served” my warrant?) so issue a sidearm heater to Dr Land Spam. With the hard times in the letter business they should jump at the chance for a little overtime.

For the record, this was over a traffic ticket and honestly; to be on the po-po hit list for something like this is embarrassing. However as a fugitive I demand to be treated properly. Send your best piker goons to drag me out of here! Do I want to go to jail? No. And I won’t for this. So why do I want this treatment? For all the tight shit that comes along with it. You see- if the police drag you out of your building, your landlord tends to wait for you to produce the monthly rent instead of potentially agitating you by knocking on your door. Any items that have been borrowed from you come back that week. You are free to use as many forbidden swear words and racial/ethnic slurs, as you like with out having to whisper or look around first. And most importantly, when you tell everyone in your neighborhood that you were carted out of there for a traffic ticket, they A) don’t believe you and B) get up to date with any traffic infractions they have outstanding.

They don’t really want ME. They want my money. I learned this when I was cited for hanging posters for a show of mine. I was fined while no one bothered the people that put up the posters of their missing pets. So what I did was rounded up enough animals until I collected enough ransom/reward money for Fluffy and Patches to keep the law from breathing down my neck.

I don’t want to hear about anybody dreams anymore. The current trend is to take the most ridiculous unrealistic bullshit and title it your “dream” so everyone around doesn’t pimp slap you. Why is the economy is such bad shape? Dreams. “My dream is to own a home but I work as a port-a-john mopper.” Wow, I can’t believe they lost their house!  “This high end garden hose boutique has been my life long dream!” The store is closed and now you’re sucking on the hose to get by. Dreams are many things but they should never be a business plan. Do you know the difference between a dream and a nightmare? Who’s having it. For every girl who wakes up screaming from a fire nightmare there is a broken hearted guy daydreaming about that very thing happening. Your dream job is a real sleep time traumatic experience for somebody with “fuck you ” money and the thoughts that cause my rapid eye movement are the things 12 step programs are made of.

What I dream about at night would make Eraserhead look like a coloring book. So who is the warlock that can clearly lasso in what is actually happening when they sleep to the point that they can get direction from it? If I lived my dreams, I would be down at the car wash covered in Play Doh talking to girl that sat next to me in 11th grade English class. Dreams just come to you at night and require no work other than cleaning up after the scary or good ones…

What we need to do is replace the word “dream” in our language with words such as “far fetched plan” or “crackpipe idea” not to ridicule but instill the need for a FUCKING BACKUP PLAN. All successful people have a plan “B”. Richard Nixon’s “dream” (ironically) was to work for the F.B.I. Lars Urlich of Metallica aspired to be a pro tennis player and Whoopi Goldberg wanted to pretty and funny. Do you know how I know dreams are bullshit? Because they need to be interpreted. What a fucking scam! Who does this? It’s the same douchebag that tells you what your used car is worth. Living the dream, dream job, dream vacation… if your dreams come true, all I can say is run for your fucking life!

As I walked past the row of recycling bins at my local market, the corner of my eye catches something that pushes me to the brink on this recycling bullshit; a receptacle for recycling cork. CORK! What kind of drunk do you think I am? If you are drinking enough wine to be able to recycle the tops, you’re a screw top man. Additionally, what self-respecting landowner or local merchant is willing to drop more than one cork at a time in front of a crowd of neighborhood snoops with Facebook equipped smartphones at their fingertips?

Recycling has spun out of control and no one wants to be the ironic one to “trash” the subject. We got hooked on the “Be good to the Earth” jazz when sandal-free people with regular bathing habits began to chirp off about the magic of spinning straw into gold by separating your plastics. The less than “groovy” but simple fact is we need to start throwing some shit out. Why do we hang on to old crap like grandma hangs on to the handrail after 3 scotch and milks? We are 10 years into the 21st century and it is time to slash and burn the sentimental junk that we never should have carried into this decade. What do you think they did with the gumball machines that once stood where the recycling bin with the special cork hole is currently? Now as part of my continuing service to the brilliant citizens that read the Boozecoma.com humor blog, I have compiled a list of extractable items still with us that combined aren’t worth a pint of piss and need to be washed out of our memory 1950’s C.I.A. style. Read more