While sitting in an Internet style cafeteria (or it may be an ice cream parlor) in Fargo, North Dakota, I realize I am sick of Eugene Mirman and Marc Maron. They are at the same table as me, and have no idea I am complaining about them right now. They look dumbfounded. With the emphasis on dumb. Eugene spends several hours a day practicing not to care about his career. In reality he has a career spreadsheet he toils over, with power points and a hacksaw. Marc Maron is cutting edge. He's in my face edgy. He's also on edge 25/8.

We took Newport, Kentucky by storm. Maybe it was drizzling. Everyone who said they enjoyed the show, probably did. One guy punched me hard in the stomach. He thought I was Houdini. Chicago was fantastic. It was profound and deep. And that was just the pizza. They loved us there. We were funny and funion. We told jokes. When they didn't work, we blamed the audience. St. Paul was a blast. It was neato. It was standing room only except for the people sitting in chairs. We got a standing ovation. Or it may have been the crowd walking to their cars. Last night we arrived in Fargo, and were given the key to the city. Not from the mayor, but from some guy who was loitering. Now it's off to Boise. I am living the dream, the dream of someone who can't get a plane out of Fargo.

For tour dates and info go to http://www.236.com/standuppity/