Now Appearing in an Extended Engagement! Join Dave Robison as he takes you into his world and his daily life of reviving a stand-up comedy career. Prepare for side trips exploring Public Relations, marketing and business ethics. Enjoy some frequent detours describing his observations on life. Read the exploits of this self-proclaimed Renaissance-man and blooming blogger as you go
On The Road With Dave.
One Large Balloon(Punch ball) Kraft Paper Wheat Wallpaper Paste Scrap 1/8 plywood or paneling Approximately 1 yard of fake fur(long shag) Package of shredded(or powdered) papier-mache' Miscellaneous scraps of felt, velvet, feathers, etc.
String, screws, glue, wire, springs, wooden beads and some secret ingredients.
A long time ago, I had two other ventriloquist dummies before my current partner, Skyler. Both were constructed by myself. Both were lost or damaged beyond repair over the years and their absence has been weighing on me. I've had the desire in the last six months to resurrect one of the characters from scratch and add some improvements to his original design. That desire has recently manifested into an actual commitment to begin the process.
I'm constructing a new puppet to add to the new ventriloquism portion of my act. Though not Top Secret, I've christened the new project, CODENAME:CECIL, in honor of the previous character. The saga of the construction will play out over the next few months with photos of the progress. You can also bet that Skyler's Gravel Road will weigh in on the construction and the eventual character that evolves.
I don't have the mastery of some of the finer craftsmen of ventriloquist figures, but if history is any judge, I think I can pull this off. I'm also betting that a few of my ventriloquist readers will be able to guess by the photo, exactly what plans I'll be using circa 1974.
I've been dumped by girlfriends, had friends no longer hang with me, and horror of horrors; I have even had people "unfriend" me on Facebook and "unfollow" me on Twitter. But today, I think I have suffered the greatest indignity of all--Blogger.com has decided not to support me.
Today I read an email from the blogging service that as of March 26, it would no longer support FTP publishing. For those not hip to the jargon, it means I'll no longer be able to use the simple Blogger software to write my blog entries and then have them seamlessly upload to my www.ontheroadwithdave.com domain hosted elsewhere.
When I first started my blog, "On The Road With Dave"; its design was a Blogger template and written at Blogger and hosted by Blogger with Blogger's BlogSpot address, daveontheroad.blogspot.com.. Most Blogger-hosted blogs have the "blogspot" as part of the URL address. I was extremely proud when I purchased my own domain and was able to still write "On The Road With Dave" with the easy to use Blogger format, but have it hosted at my very own domain with no "blogspot" address. Moving the blog had it's problems, but it was worth it, to call it "My own".
I'm faced with a host (get it? Host..web hosting...forget it) of problems. One problem for me is that they will not support a directory extension like .com/example. I created my DAVEWEAR page like that. Blogger will insist on subdomains like example(dot)mydomain.com. I hate subdomains.
Another problem is I kinda like having my files at a hosting site that I have some control over. And, if I go elsewhere I want to keep my current website look. Some of the borders and style are taken from adjusted rewritten original Blogger styles. I have no expertise on designing a new style sheet or template. Also, there'd be massive linkage breaks and images to reload. I already did that once. Most of my readers know, I'm limited in my "techy-ness". It takes me hours of looking at my template and figuring out where I insert some HTML piece that I copied from somewhere and inserting it into my design. Once it took me two hours to figure out how to change a background color.
Anyway I have until March 26 to decide what to do and complete the changes. I may go back to Blogger and use their solution, or migrate to another service such as WordPress. (Geez, another learning curve) Either way, I fear change and the probable pain and expense that will ensue.
Blogger may abandon me, but I'm not abandoning blogging or writing. Stick around and enjoy my suffering. You know you like it.
That's not entirely true. How do you spend 28 years with "somebody" without liking them? Okay, and I know he's not really "somebody"; he's a puppet, a dummy--he's not really alive. But, I'm having trouble with Skyler.
Skyler started out as an idea from a rough sketch I drew. His inspiration drawn from the poster boy of Mad Magazine, Alfred E Neuman. Legendary ventriloquist figure maker, Finis Robinson took on the task of carving out my idea into wood and creating my sidekick.
Finis wrote to me upon Skyler's completion, "He's a fine boy, but more mature material will be needed for him." I'm sure that Finis didn't mean "dirty" or "blue" material, but rather Skyler would not be suitable for cutesy kid's parties. I was okay with that at the time, I was 18 and had visions of comedy clubs and TV appearances dancing in my head.
Things between Skyler and I started out okay. We were doing gigs, making people laugh, flirting with girls. Skyler went to college with me, joined me at some parties and generally was a good ventriloquist sidekick.
After I got married and put performing on the back burner for a while, Skyler spent a few years tucked away in his trunk; only to be brought out occasionally to entertain house guests or to undergo some routine maintenance. I would bring him out at times to do some ventriloquism practice, just to be able to say I was still a ventriloquist and to display some semblance of expertise.
That was when the trouble began. Working with Skyler became more difficult. Not with his mechanics or operation; he was and has always been a thrill to operate. His expressions were great, he was fantastic to manipulate, and his personality seem to flow out even before I put words into his mouth through ventriloquism. But, he seemed to be...how do I put this...mean.
As a ventriloquist, you have to practice daily on lip control, manipulation of the ventriloquist figure, and timing as well as the comedy act between the ventriloquist and the dummy. The dialogue between the ventriloquist and the dummy is a one-act play. A script is followed that allows the ventriloquist, in most cases, to be the "straight man" to the dummy. The ventriloquist sets up the jokes and the dummy delivers the punchline. Not so with Skyler. For some reason, Skyler doesn't stick to the script. I tend to argue with him during practice. Practice ain't fun with him. His "put-downs" seem spontaneous and evil. He berates me. His verbal jabs hurt. In short, I don't think HE likes ME anymore.
Now, before you start psychoanalyzing me and calling the good folks at my local mental asylum, I know that all his words are coming from my mouth. I know I'm arguing with myself. His cynicism and sarcasm and meanness is all coming from my mind. I have heard of ventriloquists outgrowing a dummy and moving to another character, but I don't think this is the case. It's more like, there's a frustration within myself that I have ignored Skyler that personifies itself as Skyler being annoyed with me. I've let his personality that I originally created for him atrophy to the point that all that exists is evil meanness.
I'm sure other ventriloquists out there may have gone through something similar, maybe not to this degree, but we all tend to project an inner personality through our dummies. Our dummies display that part of us that we tend to shy away from. And as a comedian, I'm often told that comics are a sad lot, deriving humor from their inner turmoil. If you ask me, all this introspective, reflective crap gets in the way of just telling funny stories and making people laugh.
So, if I want to add ventriloquism to my comedy gigs, and make it unique and funny, I need to come up with a solution that will satisfy my "inner Skyler" and use my longtime sidekick to make people laugh once again and not just piss me off when we practice.
It's either that or hire a local voodoo priestess to get rid of Skyler's evilness.
I spent Tuesday night in a hospital Emergency Room. It wasn't my first choice, but it seemed like the entire day had it out for me. Here's the complete story...
I generally stay up late and Monday night was no different. After spending some quality time online at Twitter and Facebook; I had decided to turn in around 3AM. As is my custom, I went to the 'fridge to pour one last glass of tea and smoke my last cigarette for the evening. Upon opening the fridge, I noticed that "de-frosty" smell you get when your refrigerator is not working. This led to the next couple of hours of emptying the refrigerator, digging out a cooler, chipping ice, and saving the perishables. At about 5AM, I crawled into bed for a few hours sleep before work on Tuesday.
Now, work is just work. I answer phone calls from customers of a cellular company and hash out their bills, fix their phones, and answer questions. Some customers are nice, some are not so nice. There's goals to meet, expectations, rules, and stress. I handle it all pretty well.
At about 9:30 or so,Tuesday night, I finished a call; said "Thank you for calling" and experienced a sudden sharp pain in the middle of my chest. I catch my breath a couple of times and put my phone software on hold. Another sharp pain in my chest and my right arm begins to hurt. Right away, I'm NOT thinking heart attack, because it's supposed to be your left arm and the pain is supposed to be more to the left, not in the middle. I'm thinking some indigestion is at work. Generally, I eat lunch before work and just wait until I get home at night for dinner. My lunch break is only 30 minutes and I generally use it to de-stress and smoke an extra cigarette before returning to take calls.
But the pain doesn't subside, and I catch the attention of my supervisor, and call her over. By this time, my fingers feel a little tingly, I'm kinda "clammy" and I'm not feeling so sporty. She calls Security, and they grab my stuff and walk me to the front of the building. I'm not walking too good by now and for some reason I'm feeling kind of disoriented. My wife is called and arrives and on the advice of the security guard, my wife takes me across the street to the local fire department.
After I explained my symptoms, they sit me down, they take my blood pressure,(157/90, put some Oxygen on me, start an IV and hook me up to an EKG machine. The EMT tells me that something doesn't look right and gives me a spray of nitroglycerin and some aspirin. I tried to stand back up but my legs went out from under me. An ambulance is called; much to my dismay, and I head to the local university medical center. I'm not liking all this. I have no medical insurance and I'm stressing about the money. On top of all this; now, I have a headache caused by the nitro.
The nice EMT, Donna, tried to relax me in the ambulance and asked me questions and I was slow to answer her and couldn't really think well. I couldn't remember my phone numbers, but I could tell her my Social Security number. We finally arrived at University of South Alabama Medical Center.
At the hospital--they hooked me up to another EKG machine. This is the third EKG of the evening, The EMT in the ambulance had also wired me up for the ride into Mobile. I have the little sticky patches all over my body by now. The hospital staff do a chest X-ray, draw blood, take my blood pressure(127/90) and asked me a hundred questions. "Rate the pain on a scale of 1-10" (7-8) "Use drugs?" (No) "History of heart disease?" (Yes) "How old was your Father when he died?"(89) and then I begin to wait. By now, it's about Midnight and the pain is a dull ache and I'm kinda hungry. Remember, I was going to go home at 10PM and eat.
The doctor came back in and said that my heart rate was good and the EKG looked normal. I answered more questions, but my two questions; "Can I go home? and Can I eat something?" are answered, "NO". The doctor said I needed to stay at the hospital for a second round of blood tests. I didn't know this, but the second round was for comparison purposes with the first round. During a heart attack, our hearts are kind enough to release an enzyme marker to let us know if we experienced any heart damage. Thankfully, my pain had subsided by now.
My wonderful wife who had been let into the room by now, decided to leave me to drive back home to gather up some stuff for me for what appeared to be my stay at the hospital. (By the way, did I mention that this was HER BIRTHDAY? Yes, she wakes to a busted 'fridge and is now at the hospital with her apparent "busted-heart-husband)
I laid in the hospital bed, listening to my heart monitor. I messed with the Oxygen Saturation monitor on my finger and made the wavy line on the monitor mess up and I read the same posters over and over again. "CALL BEFORE YOU FALL" and "YES YOU CAN ASK US IF WE CLEANSED OUR HANDS", with a smiling nurse washing her hands. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have called some one to ask them, but I missed that opportunity. Instead, I kept adjusting the hospital gown as it fell off my shoulders, tried not to move my IV-needled hand, and moved all the wires around so I could put a sheet over me. I also watched my blood pressure cuff as it automatically kept checking my BP(120/80).
At around 3AM, more blood is drawn through my IV tube,(That hurt like a "mother") and my dutiful-beautiful wife arrived back at the hospital.
A little after 4AM, the doctor said that my test results were negative for a heart attack. She said that I'm under a lot a stress and I smoke. (I knew that part) and that the chest pain was stress induced, possibly reflux, the pain raised my blood pressure and I probably had some anxiety and panic from it all. (I don't remember being that panicked) She also said I needed to schedule a stress test with my regular physician and that I needed to relax more, and quit smoking. To add insult to injury, she threw in, "You know if smoking doesn't kill you, it eventually causes impotency in men". (How,rude!) But the good news was that I could go home and take Wednesday off from work. My wife stayed home with me today, as well.
I do want to take this opportunity to thank the fine guys at Saraland Fire Department, Newman's Ambulance Service from Mobile, Alabama and the nice staff(Amy) and Dr. Costello at USA Medical Center.
Today, I've been sleeping a lot. I received some well wishes from Twitter and Facebook friends that read my status updates today and my wife's boss called to check on me. I've been thinking about my little "wake up call" that Tuesday decided to give me. Ambulance rides are not funny and I certainly don't want another one for quite some time. I suppose some changes are in order; Doctor's orders.
