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Dan Wilbur
"Genius!"
New York, NY
      
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Check out DanWilbur.com!
Recently deemed the smartest man alive by himself and this other guy, Dan Wilbur is proud to be a founding member of Bard College's Stand-Up Comedy Club. He has performed and produced several shows at Bard College, including two large shows that featured members of Olde English comedy troupe. Dan also produced a Roast of the (sort of) famous rapper Soul Khan, and performed an hour-long set at the Chautauqua College Club in Chautauqua, New York.
Dan has also written for [more]
juju beans says:
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I'm with you on that xxxhottgirl crap. She is the most unfunny whore Ive ever seen
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Punchline Magazine says:
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congrats on being a guest star!
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 Remember when inadvertent sexual references were funny? Me neither!
Meet the lovable REAL housewives of Suburban Cleveland on Raffle Baffle!
Cheryl and Corinne have been selling raffle tickets at Saint Ignatius High School for four years. Their lives are the quintessential success stories for all middle-age women living in these great United States. God Bless our President.
http://rafflebaffle.blogspot.com/
The Sitting Begins!
Corinne! I had a lovely time with you and George last night at dinner! Nothing like some spaghetti marinara to get my mouth just jabberin' away! I mean, a bowl full of soft and warm noodles and a half glass of that dry chardonnay from Oregon! Ooooweee! That's the little known secret for how to pump me for information, Mr. Bond! And spicy too! Your George sure knows how to get a party started. I had the energy of a teenager way past 11:00. My Frankie and I got home and couldn't even make it through one Law and Order. And it was an Criminal Intent even! Thank God for Tivo, otherwise (and I'll be honest with you because you know how tough this little bit of service work is) I might never make it to the boys basketball games! I have to have at least an hour of something I want to see on television, otherwise I can't relax. As we sit here, Oprah's Big Give is recording right now. I tell ya! If it weren't for that little box...shhh(!): I might have quit selling raffle tickets the second my Donny got through freshman year. That's when all the other moms gave up. But if I had done that, you and I would never have met! How tragic would that have been?
Come see more @:
Rafflebaffle.blogspot.com
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 There is a much needed comma missing from the title of Bill Cosby’s new book. It’s called “Come on People” and it has a bunch of white splotches on the front.
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 The sexy Scarlett Johansson will release her debut album: Anywhere I Lay My Head. The album features 10 Tom Waits covers and one original, which means she picked the one singer who ANYONE WILL SOUND BETTER THAN provided they are under 85, don’t use a voice box, and are not Bob Dylan. There is only one way that they could possibly market this: Sweet new remixes that ultimately focus on the Scarlett’s one selling point. Amazon.com has already released the following tracklist:
1. Just the Right Bullets (my tits)
2. The Black Rider (rides my tits)
3. I’ll Shoot the Moon (it’s the size of one tit)
4. The Heart of Saturday Night (is located on or near my titties)
5. November (was a cold month for my tits)
6. Christmas Card from a Hooker (me)
7. I Don’t Want to Grow Up (if it’s going to affect my tits)
8. Let Me Get Up On It (Remix)
9. Diamonds on my Windshield (look like nipples)
10. Big in Japan (comparatively)
11. Love is an Illusion (written and performed by me…while I was only wearing a bra)
12. Bonus Track: Fumblin’ with the Blues (and my boobies)
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 When I meet a famous comedian, it’s a lot like approaching a woman at a bar. I’m really confident about walking over and telling her I’m a comedian, until I see the expression on her face. Then I stutter and tell a joke I wrote in fifth grade. Then I just awkwardly shake her hand and walk away. Then I send her a message on myspace, which nearly always start with “So, this is weird…”
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 Did you ever sit in your room and go: “I’m living in a less technologically advanced version of Bruce Willis’ apartment from The Fifth Element? I have a minifridge under my TV two feet from my bed, which has God knows what underneath. At least my closet has auto-wash, if you count the leak from my neighbor's shower.
And there's a stereotypical Chinese guy constatnly singing outside my window. Ahhhh! Thanks, Brooklyn!"
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 I went to Chicago and brought some pot with me. In the morning I packed, and to have a better travel experience, I ingested some of my pot.
Mistake 1: "If I can't smell it, a dog can't." Even before I felt anything I made this rationalization.
Mistake 2: "I'm high. Oh, God. I'm really high." Being high on the Megabus was terrifying! I had already assumed bus security consisted of five or six cops with dogs sniffing for drugs, but instead of that I found the only security was provided by an old homeless man waving an empty forty at some people in downtown Cleveland. I was also sure Fred Flinstone was now driving the bus and I needed to find the trap door to brake with my feet before the next intersection.
Mistake 3: "Can all dogs smell marijuana?" was my next horror-stricken thought. The bigger mistake was asking the old woman next to me this question. Every stop we made I paced quickly past all the dog walkers on the street. One barked at me from behind a cracked car window: I swear to God, I heard it bark my name.
Mistake 4: Peanut butter. My friend told me peanut butter would cover up the scent, but because I was high, I didn't think about putting it in a container. I just took some off the sandwich I'd made and spread it around the bag. Now I had peanut butter pot in the front of my bag, and I'm sweating balls next to an old lady who thinks I'm about to stab her.
Mistake 5: Not smoking everything before coming back to my parents house. Then my dogs smelled the peanut butter and ate all my pot.
Good Choice 1: Their huge pug eyes swelled shut, and we each ate a bowl full of milk bones. My teeth have never felt more slippery and clean.
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 Stop sharing my personal information/purchases with people!
Just because I've listed every book I own under "favorite books" and my social security number under "Religious Views" does not mean that you can arbitrarily share what I purchase on amazon.com with anyone! That information is private!
Just because I tagged all of my previous sexual partners in a note titled "This is a list of my previous sexual partners," does not mean that I want everyone to know the exact time I ordered "Rugrats: A Decade in Diapers" from an independent ebay seller. That's personal too.
What if I decided to purchase a book on the History of the AIDS Epidemic? Huh? What then? People might think I have AIDS. I know what you're thinking: most people have to have sex with another person to contract AIDS, but I've read there are other ways, too! Listing that purchase could easily lead others to judge me. Not everyone knows that I'm taking "Anthropology of Medicine for Non-majors" at Bowling Green next semester! Just because I listed my courses in my profile, does not mean I have friends who care. I know: they've told me as much. When you spend as much time as I do adding every facebook application from Scrabulous to Zombies, you don't have a lot of time to "socialize."
You better quit what you're doing facebook, or you'll be the next chump I bite.
Sincerely,
Angry McSadFace
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 Thanks, Trader Joe's!
Now I can be certain that my food had a chance to walk freely on a fenced-in piece of grass with some other animals before it was boiled down into liquidy goop.
That really helps me cope with eating something that was once conscious. Maybe I'll spring for the Kosher food so I know the bird's throat was slit by a Rabbi. That would alleviate some of my guilt as a carnivore.
What's that? It's organic too? Oh, I'm sold!
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 How come it's only my vegan exercise-freak friends who know where to score blow?
They're always like: "Hey! Do you know what high fructose corn syrup does to your body? It's terrible. Now let's do a line and kill a bottle of tequila."
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 A woman told me that she thought Hilary Clinton should win the election since she has done so much to break down the "glass walls" for women.
I asked: "Don't you mean glass ceiling? The whole 75 cents to the dollar thing?"
And she said: "No Dan, barriers. Glass walls."
Did Hilary help some troupe of mimes I didn't hear about?
Because if she did, she has my vote now. It's about damn time we had a Press Secretary who's been trained in comedia dell'arte.
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