Monthly Archives: February 2026

Beer League Series

What happens when comedians take beer, bad athleticism, and questionable decision-making and turn it into a TV show? Well, wonder no more: because I’m in Beer League: The Series and things have gotten hilariously out of hand

I’m super pumped to be part of this all-star cast of degenerate athletes (and trust me, you do NOT want to miss what happens in this league). Catch all the shenanigans streaming now on 213.tv! Grab your favorite cold one and pretend you’re stretching beforehand. It helps.

WATCH THE TRAILER and let me know your favorite “sports injury” excuse below! #BeerLeagueSeries#Comedy#213tv#AmIDraftableYet

From Jimmy Palumbo @officialjimmypalumbo and Tom Baldinger @624productions. The Series Premiere of “Beer League Last Licks” @beerleague_lastlicks October 23 at 2:13 PM PT on 213 TV. Watch213.tv

Trailer right here https://www.instagram.com/reel/DPzO9rfCX4y/…

Self Help?

They say you can manifest peace and order, so this morning I really committed to it. Closed my eyes. Took a breath. Whispered “serene household vibes” three times like I was summoning a friendly ghost.

Opened my eyes to laundry hanging from the ceiling like avant-garde drapery, toys on the floor arranged in what I can only describe as a World War One Battlefield, and one of my kids brushing his teeth while sitting on the toilet. Like this was a lifestyle choice.

So either I need a stronger vision board, or my family is fully immune to buzzwords. Manifestation, mindfulness, gentle mornings — none of it survives contact with children before 7:30am.

My mornings are like Mad Max: Breakfast Edition.

Mark Twain… American Comedian

Mark Twain, Carbuncles, and the First Touring Comic (Sea Edition)

I’m still trudging through Ron Chernow’s 1,200-page Mark Twain biography — a book so massive it should come with a sherpa. I’m 70% in, which is roughly 800-something pages, and at this point I’ve encountered the word “carbuncle” more times than I’ve seen my own kids since starting this thing.

And look, I love Twain. Absolutely adore him. The man is basically the godfather of roasting — the original comic who could do beefs like East Coast vs. West Coast rap stuff. (Shoutout to Artemus Ward though — I know he’s the real OG.)

But Chernow really wants me to understand this man’s life through and through. That carbuncle debacle gets more stage time than half the comics I’ve worked with.

Twain spent his sixties dragging himself around the world on a lecture tour to pay off his debts — traveling by train, boat, carriage, and whatever else could move him, his opening act, and the merch case in 1895. He performed the same material night after night, punching up jokes while fighting exhaustion, financial ruin, and that ever-present boil. I kept waiting to find out Twain dropped his drawers and sprayed the front row like the first Gallagher or GWAR show.

Mark Twain wasn’t just a writer. He was a full-blown road comic. A true stand-up with fancier suits, no white sneakers, and noticeably worse healthcare. (Even though the carbuncle may have gotten him Equity and SAG membership by page 600.)

He became the first boat act.

At one point, Twain takes the Queen Mary to England — and within days, he’s basically running the dining room like it’s his personal comedy club. People are gathering just to hear him riff over soup. He had passengers laughing so hard they probably bought merch. The guy turned an ocean crossing into a residency.

Everything about his life reads like the 1890s version of a journeyman comic in the ’80s:

• Endless travel
• Weird venues
• Unpredictable crowds
• Grinding through sickness
• Secret and public disdain for the opener when they blow the light
• Performing because the rent (and creditors) don’t care how tired you are

Swap “newspapers” for “social media,” “lecture halls” for “comedy clubs,” and “carbuncle” for “the clap,” and it’s the same exact career.

What impresses me most is how methodical he was. He crafted timing, rewrote between shows, read the audience, adjusted for region — the man treated live performance like both an art and a science. He understood that written comedy and performed comedy were two different animals. He had chops. Real chops. Sideburn chops, but chops nonetheless.

The toll? Same then as now. Travel grinds you down. Audiences take energy. Being away from home messes with your head. Something always hurts in a way you’re too proud to mention — physical or ego.

But in between carbuncles, Twain drops these perfect little truth bombs:

“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”
“Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been.”

I’m down to my last 360 pages. Chernow definitely has a few more carbuncles waiting for me — seriously, what’s with this guy?

But I’m hooked. Because if Twain could limp across continents with a boil, a busted bank account, and a tuxedo, turning every train car, lecture hall, and trans-Atlantic dining room into a comedy club… then the least I can do is finish this book before my ship contract is up.