Happy MILF Day

Mother's Day isn't for a few more days, but Comedy.com and J Chris Newberg have gotten a jump start on the festivities with this new insanely catchy song and video that pays tribute to all the MILFs out there celebrating Mother's Day.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: You Never Know When You Need A Rifle

Let's play a game. It's called HAVE THE ADDICT DRIVE AROUND THE COMIC.

It's a great game. It's survival-based and can be played in almost any city that has a comedy club or a performance venue. I played a few times recently.

Last week in Texas I was picked up at the airport by a Meth user. He didn't have fingers because he sold them to his friend for more drugs. True story.

He went by the name Freddie Fingers and was waiting for me at the Odessa Midland airport. He had a sign in his teeth that read: "Jay Kris Newman." I assumed that it was me and luckily I was correct.


He was over average height and slender build, but what I noticed right away is that he was sweating like there was a tiny microwave in his pants. I mean, flop sweats. A Smurf could have showered underneath his river of death. A tiny drought-oriented village could have connected a hose to his forehead and ceased all of their prayers for rain.

I shook his palm and he grabbed my guitar and took off in a sprinter's stride towards the car. He couldn't be stealing my instrument because he had a sign. Judging by the correct spelling of the sign, I knew I was already respected in this town, so I just walked slightly faster, but not too concerned.

We were in the truck and he immediately asked if I needed a rifle. I explained that I was going to the Holiday Inn and I thought that I would be okay. He laughed a maniacal shriek and I immediately reconsidered, but stayed quiet.

"You should be fine. You're right next to the car dealers and not much goes on there. I was just trying to get rid of one for some extra loot."

Yes, he said loot.

Now I went out with a girl that used to use Meth and although we only went out once, I will NEVER forget her twitches and her horrible smell. It was the scent of takeover. Some demon had gotten inside her brain and began to pillage her cells and set fires to her skin and teeth. Sad really, but nonetheless unforgettable. Mr. Fingers had her same fragrance.

"Do you smoke pot?" I asked.

"Oh no, I don't touch that shit," he said at a speed that would rival an advancing cheetah.

"How about meth?" I continued.

"Can't lie to ya, hit the pipe twice just before I picked you up."

Perhaps I do need a rifle. I asked if the owner knew of his intake decisions and he said that's who he bought from.

I definitely will need a rifle.

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch, but it has stayed with me. In fact, this past weekend I was in Miami and I was picked up at the airport by Count Drunkulah. He literally had a Scotch in his lap. I opted to get out of the vehicle and take a cab and I heard from the club later that day that he had fallen asleep and hit a tree and they wanted to make sure that I wasn't in the car with him at the time.

Really? Yes, I was in the car and as soon as it hit the tree I got my stuff and walked 21 miles to the hotel. Don't be silly.

So, let that be a lesson to you, if your dog is going to have unprotected sex and argue with you over fantasy football, then they are probably not going to college.

I love monkeys and Rifles
and the fact that Miley Cyrus is 15
and people are showing sassy naked pics of her on line
She's 15
That's child porn
Why do stars flip the bird to the world
when in fact the best revenge on these fools
who are so tortured with fame is to boycott them
for about a year. stop taking pics of them
going to their movies
that will never happen, but it really could
they are only famous because we allow that
let's have a Hollywood mutiny
You bring the pudding and I'll bring
the cattle prod

haters

j cn

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about his run-in with Richie Sambora and vampire romance. You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: We All Want Someone To Worship

"Just write one true thing each day and the rest will follow," said the brilliant and uber-tortured Ernest Hemingway at some point before he took a self inflicted gunshot to the head.

I suppose all he wanted to do was be sacred, I mean right before he gave up. I think we all want to be special or at least know someone that is. I have my inspirations and they range from song lyrics, to poetry, to the brief sighting or encounter of a beautiful girl.

I sit in my life and autobiography and think this is the chapter entitled "Almost, but not for sure." I feel dangerously like Christopher Columbus sitting high atop the crow's nest of one of his three vessels. Resources dwindling, crew in turmoil, reason and science out the window and all that moves me forward is the brain promise that I gave myself that my new world is just ahead.

It makes total sense to continue on, although logic reminds me each time I do a set in front of three people (all of which are comics) on a Sunday night, that I might be a fool. Doesn't matter. This is my journey, my ocean and my Santa Maria.


All of my friends are married or divorced with solid jobs, health insurance, children and security. I live above a garage and sleep on a Futon. I don't have a girlfriend and I most certainly don't have any children. I mean, maybe I do, but if I do they probably can't play basketball or cook spinach.

I am lonely. I am spinning. I am dizzy. I am not and I will never complain about failure or success because I am well aware of their shaping abilities and their added strength to one's process, so I happily I accept what I have chosen and, believe it or not, I convince myself that all I really need is the lyrical guidance from anyone with a tongue and teeth to keep me going.

I assure myself that I am with purpose and that I can inspire as well. In fact, maybe that's why the brilliant fizzle or voluntarily check out. I have no real point to this article, other than inspiration on some level is required.

To feel special could be the most blessed life perfume one could wear. And as damaged as I am, I am inspired and surprisingly enough, I have even inspired a person or two myself. I never take too seriously the voice of critics, because the only thing that matters is how you feel about what you're doing.

I do short Internet videos. The good kids of Whipitoutcomedy.com and I have had terrific success. Our videos have had just south of 4 million views. I have read all of the comments and some are very kind and fun. Others are mean spirited and typical hater bullshit.

Recently, I have come under fire from a girl who claims that I slept with her friend and hurt her real bad 10 years ago. Ten years ago? She won't tell me her name and makes each crazy post weirder and stranger than the next. She will set up a new name on Youtube.com for the sole purpose of commenting on all of my videos and then she deletes her account.

Now, I believe that all of us are entitled to our opinion, but it takes a lot of work to be crazy. For example, I am not a fan of Dane Cook. In fact, I don't find him funny at all. To be fair, Mr. Cook sells out stadiums, has platinum CD's and a promising upstart movie career. So, I don't really think he cares what I think. However, I would never in my wildest dreams go to his Myspace page, log on, add him as a friend, and then repeatedly notify him that he sucks and then delete my account so as to remain anonymous. Even if he did nail my friend ten years ago.

My crazy word assassin likes to notify me that I am a Jack Black wannabe and that I am fat and pathetic and insecure. That's not the funny part to me. The funny part to me is that I have no idea who this person is and I sleep just fine not caring. This person thinks about me with a passionate hatred that continues to resurface in her brain over and over again. She will do it often and I will take roughly 5 to 7 seconds and try to think about who she might be...and then the phone will ring or I might want to go practice my Jack Black impression and then it will go away until she decides to attack again.

Listen, we all want someone to worship or obsess over, it's American. Just try to do it in a positive way. Or don't, whatever. Below is a list of today's inspirations for me:

"A Murder of One" by the Counting Crows
"One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles
A cloudless sky
Brooke Long
The smell of my car
My Grandmother's photograph
My sleeping Spaniel
Laughter
Hope
Thought
Light
The Video of Queen at Live Aid
Britney Spears works out at my gym
There will be a Rock of Love 3

Finally, whether I succeed or fail at comedy or life is unimportant because I have already made it in so many ways. I like being in play, it's way better than played out or incompletion. I just wanted to start writing until I came up with something to write about and congratulations crazy Youtube hater, I managed to actually find some light in your lyrical darkness. In fact so much so, that I am in love with this moment:

"Oh baby I surrender to the strawberry ice cream never ever ender of this love." Adam Duritz (Drug addict, poet, musician)

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about his run-in with Richie Sambora and vampire romance. You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: Sometimes I Cry

I've seen a million faces and I've rocked 'em all. And then cried a little bit.

So, I cry during movies sometimes. I admit it.

The movies could be unusually not cry worthy and I will lose it regardless. Not overwhelming, out of control sobbing, that would make me the biggest sissy on The Oxygen Network, but definite tears.

Here are some classic films that I have cried during: Rudy, Shawshank Redemption, Secret of My Success, Carlito's Way, Rocky Balboa, Hitch, The Family Stone and it doesn't end there. Basically any romantic comedy. Biggest tear jerker moment of all time was in Reality Bites when Ethan Hawke's dad died I think and Winona Ryder and him were fighting and then they played "All I Want Is You" by U2. I think I missed baseball practice.

I am very comfortable with my emotions and my manhood, but sometimes I can't really control it. I have never cried in front of a girl about a break up and, strangely enough, the only time that I have cried in real life not related to a movie was when my grandmother passed. I wept pretty hard, however, the scene in Can't Buy Me Love when Donald lost Cindy Mancini and just drove around on his lawnmower still managed to get about 12 more tears than the departing of the most influential and beautiful woman I have ever known. It's fucked up, I know.


Some of you may or may not know this about me, but before I became a comic, I was in a band. I wanted to be in Bon Jovi so bad I could taste the sweat that dripped off my fringe suede coat and cowboy hat. I was a cowboy, but the steel horse I rode was the bus. Anyway, the band didn't make it, but, I, to this day, remain a huge Bon Jovi fan.

Let's be honest, when they did "Dead or Alive" acoustic on MTV, I think the world stopped for like 10 seconds and then 24 seconds after that, the musical world went unplugged.

Last week I was in Atlanta and I had to fly back here. There were no direct flights, so I had to go through Minneapolis. I fly a lot, so I am Platinum with Northwest which means I am usually always in first class. I got to my seat by the window, put on my sleep mask and my headphones and I was out. I had slept on the previous flight, so I could only crash for about an hour.

When I woke up, I decided to watch Dan in Real Life. An average-at-best romantic comedy about a widower looking for love, etc., blah blah blah, you get it. The movie is fine and all of a sudden it's near the end. The happy part. I start balling.

Again, not Old Yeller-is-dead tears, but a definite stream of continuous and noticeable salt flow. I have no napkin because I slept through the meal and I couldn't really ask the sky waitress for one, and I am going over all of this in my head when the man next to me hands me a tissue.

I thank him. So embarrassed that I don't even look at him. He then tries to start up small talk. Yeah, that one gets me every time. Really? Someone else is a pussy like me? A kindred spirit in mush? This is unbelievable. I must know more of this man.

As I look down, I see he has on a pair of very expensive snakeskin boots. He is wearing all black and has sunglasses on. He looks familiar and I don't know why. He then says, "Is that your guitar that I saw up above us?"

"Yeah," I semi-cockily reply. "I am a musician and I just had some gigs in the south. It's a good gig, but the road can be a drag. Why? Do you play?"

He says that he fiddles now and again. And at this moment I realize that I am on the plane and cried in front of Richie fucking Sambora!!!

I am instantly 17 again. I began to momentarily gush. "Dude!!! Dude!!!!"

The dudes kept a coming. I couldn't stop them. Dude was the new and much more obvious tear. I cried dudes all over Mr. Sambora's life for a good 15 minutes. He was awesome, and funny, and so not annoyed with me.

I began to do a "This is your life" type thing, talking about how his solo CD "Stranger in Town" was under appreciated, etc. He thanked me and I left him alone.

That's pretty much where the story should have ended, but it didn't. As I was waiting for a cab and he was outside with his super attractive assistant waiting for his limo, we remained next to each other in awkwardness. Rock star and adult crier.

As his limo pulls up and as he is walking away, I say, "Hey Richie, thank you for being the soundtrack for my youth."

And he says (I am not making this up), "Not a problem, friend. Thanks for letting me see you cry during a dumb romance movie. Now I know I am not alone."

You are alone, Richie. You are high atop the coolest mountain on earth and you are playing a solo and throwing down tissue to dreamers like me.

Thank you, sir.

And F all of you for judging. Ha! Awesome!!!!! Richie Fucking Sambora!!!!!!!!

I jammed Livin' on a Prayer three times in the cab on the way home.

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about vampire romance and love . You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Kiss Me, I'm Irish Today

Once upon a time (read: about a year ago), we made a video with our pal J Chris Newberg and filmmaker Jordan Vogt-Roberts (of Blerds fame)in honor of St. Patrick's Day and we posted it on this site. Then a year passed. And now we're posting it again, for those of you that weren't with us last year (and because we didn't get around to making a new one for this year). Call it the beginning of a new tradition (or laziness). Enjoy!

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: Vampire Edition

I am a 400-year-old vampire born in 1608.

I am a Pisces and an obvious day sleeper. I have pretty good skin, considering my age. I have loved and seduced many. I have bloodlust and am friends with many bats (the Louisville slugger and I are best friends).

So check this out.

I was in my castle up in the hills and the phone rang. To my surprise, it was a girl that I dated in January. So she tells me that she made a mistake and she wants me back. My first question was, "January of what year?" Because there have been 400 of them.

She said two months ago and I remembered her instantly. Jen is 5'3", 110 pounds, and Type O positive. So, naturally I was interested in what she had to say. We agreed to meet and I got the carriage all prepared and asked my driver Renfield to get his top hat ready for the trot. He does, and right after sun down, I make my way down the hill.

I get to her house right at 8:10 pm and we have a bloody Mary or two and then it's off to the Transylvania Improv because I have a set. I need to do six minutes for a potential spot on the Count O'Brien show. I perform and I have a good set, but the crowd kinda bites.

We decide to go to my house for some sex and a Fresca. This is when it gets interesting.

She starts biting my neck and I'm all, "You don't want to go there," and she's all like, "Make me a vampire bitch!" and I'm all like, "No," and she's all like "Yes."

Was it sexual? Well, let's just say she went down for the Count.

Was it spiritual? No. It was just a half-night stand that started out fun and ended up weird. After we were through with our freshness, the crazy girl pulls out some garlic and a steak and tries to throw the meat at me. I tell her (when I stop laughing) that garlic is for Werewolves and it's stake made of wood, not of sirloin.

Man, did she feel awkward.

So, I made her dinner and then she left, but not before she began to cry and say that she was fucked up and that I didn't want her. Really?! You are gonna play that card right after I made you dinner, after you tried to stab me with it? She explained that life hasn't been the same since she was kicked off of "Yo Mama" for using an insult like, "Yo mama so short she blows ants." I agreed with Wilmer - that was terrible.

I tried to console her, but she just wasn't having it. So, she darted out the Castle and I haven't seen her since. Some say she's working at Lego Land. Others say that she makes cake for for cake enthusiasts. I am just glad that she is safe.

Best of luck Jen and please, for everyone's benefit, don't talk to strangers. Boo Ya.

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about love and a Valentine's Day card for his lover . You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: Awkward Roadtrip

Since Youtube is currently trying to give away $40,000 in cash and prizes for comedy video greatness, we decided that we should give it a shot. The rules of the contest were that each entry had to be about a roadtrip and had to feature a musical instrument. Thus, we created this gem of an awkward roadtrip song with the help of J Chris Newberg, Mike Bridenstine, and Nikki Todd.

RELATED POSTS:
Drinking and dating with J Chris Newberg.
Valentine's Day Still Sucks.
Mike Bridenstine's letter to Pam Anderson.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: Drinking and Dating

Today's original Whip It Out Comedy video comes in the form of an open letter from J Chris Newberg to his Dad about a recent dating experience that involved drinking, ninjas, American Idol, and dramatic chipmunks. Well, at least it involved drinking.

RELATED POSTS:
An open letter about a one night stand.
An open letter to Pam Anderson.
A letter to the drunk guy in the bathroom.

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This Could Get Interesting...

(J Chris Newberg's message for us.)


(A threatening message from a female Whip It Out "fan")


The innovation continues here at Whip It Out Comedy as we've found yet another way to share more nonsense and tomfoolery with the world. Our latest invention is the creation of a Whip It Out Comedy "Hotline," which any of you can call at any time and leave us a voicemail saying whatever you damn please and we'll post it on the site.

Don't believe us? Well, Whip It Out fave J Chris Newberg just left us the drunken message you can hear above to kick things off in appropriate fashion. We also just received one from one of our female "fans."

So, we know plenty of you out there have surely got things you'd like to say to us and/or the world, so go ahead and give us a call. All you have to do is dial 818-575-6035 and leave us a message. And if for some reason that seems too complicated for you, you can always click the Call Me link in our sidebar.

Dial away kids, we can't wait to hear from you.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: "Valentine's Day Still Sucks"

Just about a year ago, we posted one of our first original Whip It Out Comedy videos - a slide show featuring J Chris Newberg's charming tune "Valentine's Day Sucks." Well, a year has gone by and it turns out that Valentine's Day Still Sucks and we've got a new song and video (did somebody say sequel?) to prove it.

RELATED VIDEOS:
The original Valentine's Day Sucks video.
The worst part of Valentine's Day.
J Chris Newberg's Valentine's Day love letter.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: A Valentine's Day Card For My Lover

A Valentines Day Card for my Lover

Dearest Lover,

We haven't met yet, but if we had I would strongly wager that you were kind and understanding. In no way impacted or affected by the notion that my idea of fun usually includes drinking and writing country songs that I eventually turn into short college-like musical tributes aimed at tricking some girl into banging me.

You would know that my quest for fame via internet shorts, reality television, or a long shot guest appearance on a game show that I had to audition for, pale in comparison to you and your one sweet love towards me. My narcissistic tendencies are merely a front for my undying shyness and quests to get to know you better.

True, there is no "I" in team, but Cupid willing, there is an "Us." I am ready and waiting to take our connection to the next level. That, of course, would be lunch. Not just lunch as friends (because that tastes funny,) but lunch as lovers where we map out our life plan over cheese sticks and salad. Maybe we have a few glasses of wine during the day, giving you the confidence you need to go back to work at the restaurant as you wait for your huge break as well.

Three years from now, my angel, when we have all of the dreams we weaved in a plastic cup on the mantle of our Encino mansion, we will hug and recall this perfect card and this ultimate building moment. I love you so much, lover.

When we meet, we shall begin our first date with a spontaneous trip to Paris. We will go dutch, because I respect your independence. The world is ours baby, and I am wrapped up in the thought of you, awaiting your arrival.

PS: Can you bring me some change? I need to do some laundry before our date. Tick tock my pretty, let's get to each other with a swiftness and a truth that could seal the fate of wish-happy school kids everywhere. Hold me. Please.

xo

Your lover,

J Chris Newberg

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about the impact of text messages on true love. You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: The Worst Part Of Valentine's Day

Believe it or not, Valentine's Day is right around the corner. And since we here at Whip It Out Comedy are such born romantics, we just couldn't wait to start to spread a little love with the help of our pal J Chris Newberg. Behold...the Worst Part of Valentine's Day.

RELATED VIDEOS:
Why Valentine's Day sucks.
More non-talking video goodness.
Celebrating Cinco de Mayo with J Chris Newberg.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: True Love Edition

I like to say things that appear to be over the top.

I say things like, "This is the best song ever!" I say it several times a day about many different songs. I also can frequently be overheard muttering, "Prettiest girl ever," "More in love than I have ever been," and my favorite, "I used to have the biggest crush on her of all time."

This says three things about me:

1. That I am a passionate romantic.
2. Because I perform, I probably tend to hype things up a bit for effect.
3. It has to be true at least once, right?

No apologies, it's who I am. That said, let me tell you about the one time that all of these things came together and I met and genuinely fell in love with a girl called (I am changing her name) Jackelyn.

I met her in Detroit at a party. She had a shirt on that was the color and style of the Fed Ex logo, but cleverly read: "Fed Up With Men." She was not tall, and she had perfect skin, brown flowing hair, amazing eyes, and a face that could launch a thousand ships. She was a knockout and she had me at first sight.

So, we met and as it turns out, she was moving to New York to pursue acting. We were able to hang out once or twice, but then she was gone. We stayed in touch and saw each other from time to time, but geographically we were poisoned. I did receive a call from her one day that she was moving back to Michigan.

This should have been fabulous news, but it wasn't because I was moving to California. Again, we stayed in contact. Not much, but enough. Off the record, doesn't this sound like a Casey Casem long distance dedication?

Finally, a short five years after I first met her, she calls me up from Hollywood and says she's in town. I am speechless and thrilled. We quickly meet up and - I am not making this up - the chemistry had somehow elevated itself to a new level of mutual enchantment.

It was that one blissful scene in Forrest Gump where Jenny finally comes home to marry Forrest and his validation and heart have perfectly aligned, mixed with two parts Bobby Brady fireworks and one part, Wow!!

Anyway, to make things better, she tells me that she is moving here, to LA. Now there are a lot of pretty girls in Los Angeles, but she is by far the prettiest (see above).

Fast forward to me picking her up at the airport. There she is by the curb, looking like a keychain supermodel (remember, she is not tall). I take her to her new home that is so close to the airport, that she literally got in the car and I drove a mile and she was home. We unpack her and spend the next day or so connected. We go hiking in the rain, attend an acting class, grab some grub and talk forever.

So here's where it gets typical of my life and probably most of yours. We decide to go to a bar and we started out at Saddle Ranch Universal City, but it was "Pick a fight" night, so we left and ended up at Sportsman's Lodge, right near my house.

Again, we were having the conversation of conversations and the mood, food and drinks were in just the right amounts. She thanks me for my kindness and patience and I shower her with welcome to California pep talks. We are so into the moment - and each other - that we are doing the vomitaciously awful "same side booth sit" and it feels normal.

In my mind, this is the one I have been waiting for (literally waiting five years, but you knew that if you were paying attention). The cartoon birds are swimming above her head and Firehouse's "Love of a Lifetime" makes more sense than ever.

That's when the excessive texting began.

Ever been on a date where all is right with the world, but the other person is a text maniac? Well, you put up with it for a while, but then curiosity takes control and you ask the never proper, "Who are you texting?"

Now, there is no right answer for this. If she answers, "My mother, brother, sister or best friend Kate," then you are a douche for asking. The only worse answer would be, "This guy that I will be fucking after you have dropped me off." I got another one right in the middle. I got, "My boyfriend."

Now, I have known this person for a while and I have never questioned whether or not she dated, because it's normal and obvious, she's beautiful and a sweetheart. I just don't remember hearing boyfriend in any of our recent conversations.

JCN: "Boyfriend? How long have you been dating him?"

Jackelyn: "Seven years."

JCN: "Really? Awesome! Does he live out here?

Jack: "No."

JCN: "Is he moving out here?"

Jack: "No."

JCN: "Are you moving back soon?"

Jack: "No."

JCN: "Are you engaged or are you planning on marrying him?"

Jack: "Oh God, no. I would never marry him. It's just that we have been together since high school and he has my heart. We had something special."

JCN: "What, the same homeroom teacher? Lockers in the same hall?"

Jack: "It's not like that. He just got there first."

So, as I am having this conversation where I am with her alone and yet I am still the third wheel to the guy on the other end of the text message, it occurs to me that fairy tales are pretty cruel and that my song Love in Los Angeles is probably more accurate than I ever imagined.

Not really. I am older and a lot of my friends are in relationships and I am not. This doesn't upset me, but I would way rather be in a partnership with a fabulous lady than trying to listen to some girl I met at BOA tell me about how hard it is to not feel guilty living off of her doctor/parents who own several laser eye centers while she struggles to make it as an extra on Scrubs.

I still adore Jackelyn, and California is a strange grabby monster that changes you pretty quick. I am lucky to be her friend for now, and be there for her when she asks. She's pretty special and I know what we have is real and, if it's right for us, I would love to get involved.

Until then, I will just sit on the sidelines and watch as the clouds roll in over some other sucker's parade.

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: "Love In Los Angeles"

We love living in Los Angeles. We also love the way people try to find love in Los Angeles. We also love this new J Chris Newberg video about Love in Los Angeles. And apparently, we love using the phrase Love In Los Angeles in this blog post.

RELATED VIDEOS:
The Proposal
The Perfect Girl
The Roommate Song

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Whip It Out Wednesday: The Roommate Song

Have you ever found yourself searching for just the right words to say to your annoying roommate? Ever wish that somebody would put those words to music? Well, you're in luck because that's just what J Chris Newberg has done in this video featuring his Roommate Song.

RELATED VIDEOS:
The Proposal Song.
The Perfect Girl Song.
The Standup Roommate.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: The World's Worst Proposal

The last time we released a J Chris Newberg video, it conquered the world while racking up more than a million views. Well, here we go again. This time, we caught up with Chris as he offered a unique proposal to Jesse Coccoli (another Whip It Out video veteran). After you watch and love this video (which surely you will), feel free to head over and buy yourself a shirt with the song's catchy chorus. You'll be the envy of all your friends.

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Whip It Out Wednesday: "The Perfect Girl"

It's that time of the week, kids. Today our new original Whip It Out Comedy video offers a little old fashioned romance as J Chris Newberg serenades a girl with the song she inspired him to write - "The Perfect Girl." Awww....aren't we sweet?

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I Suck At Fantasy Football

Hey football fans, we're thrilled to introduce a brand new feature here on Whip It Out Comedy -- the Fantasy Football Song of the Week. Every Tuesday, we will be releasing a brand new original fantasy football song that chronicles the ups and (usually) the downs of life as a fantasy football owner. Our debut song, from J Chris Newberg, is titled "I Suck At Fantasy Football." Enjoy. And sympathize.

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The Ultimate Breakup Song

Whip It Out Comedy favorite J Chris Newberg is back with a brand spanking new music video and another Whip It Out original production. This time around, Newberg has penned a romantic little ditty for anybody that has recently gone through a breakup...and wants their shit back.

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Happy Tres De Mayo!

Cinco de Mayo may not be until this weekend, but we decided to get a jump on the festivities with this Whip It Out Comedy original video for J Chris Newberg's self-explanatory "Cinco de Mayo & Sex" song.

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