Friday at the Aspen Comedy Festival was one of the best days of my life.

Al and I woke up at 5:30 am and tried to find a copy shop to print a stack of ZUG flyers, which I had brought along on floppy disk. I had also bought a case of whoopie cushions ("hagglindawhoopies") with "Vote for ZUG" stickers, and we had a mess of T-shirts.

Now, we at ZUG are known for our guerilla marketing, and for basically getting kicked out of every venue we've ever visited. That's why HBO nominated us "Best of the Web." That's our gimmick.

But you know what? That gimmick is really getting in the way of my career. Since my daily TV show, Computer Stew, was cancelled a few months ago, I've done some rethinking of the decisions I've made. Like auditioning for the cable network TechTV by climbing their scaffolding and throwing out real money. Or writing a kiss-and-tell saga about trying to get a TV show.

Good Lord, this week is going to be analytical. You should charge me $90/hour for reading this.

In the past few months, I've been looking back on my career and thinking, lots of times, I've made the wrong people mad. I guess that's part of the attraction to my work, but it hasn't been entirely helpful for my career. As one TV executive told me, "You've got a reputation for being a loose cannon." If only they knew how much thought I put into these things, then they would just see me as an idiot. And, you know, idiots go a lot further in showbiz. Just look at the Baldwin brothers.

My point behind this psychoanaylitical discourse, I mean comedic journal entry, is that I had determined to change my tune for the Aspen Comedy Festival. I was going to play by the rules this time. I'd still promote the site, but I wasn't going to light myself on fire or take a poo on a fancy statue. I would be, you know, more classy and less interesting. That's how you get anywhere in life, like to the Presidency. And I've always wanted to be President.

So Al and I looked for a copy shop to print out my standard-issue ZUG posters. It looked like we weren't going to be able to find a copy shop with computer capabilities, so I had Al hand-draw a ZUG poster, which I ended up not using when I eventually found a copy shop with a computer (sorry, Al).

Flyers and whoopee cushions in hand, Al and I trudged up and down the Aspen hills, hanging up flyers, gasping for breath in the cold Aspen air. Man, I always thought people were just being babies, but that altitude really takes it out of you. Twice we had to administer emergency CPR to each other. (Al kissed me just a little too long one of the times, if you know what I mean. It was gross.)

First show of the day was the 9:30 am Worldcom Comedy Technology Summit, a panel discussion of folks involved in the new media comedy biz. Turns out, only two people actually worked in the new media comedy biz (qualified), two people wrote about the biz (less qualified), two people were interested in the biz (not very qualified), and the rest were celebrities.

• First, I have to say that Michael Wolff, one of the two hosts, was terrible. Michael, who is Media Columnist for New York Magazine and has thus undoubtedly written awful reviews about other people very much like the one I am now giving him, played the part of the industry curmudgeon, the guy who kept arguing "New Media is Dead." He played the part well, but should've taken a handful of amphetamines before the show. I mean, this is a comedy conference. Crack a joke once in a while and don't talk like you just ingested a case of Nyquil.
  

• Steve Martin and Nora Ephron, the star power, could not have been more old media. They had some funny industry stories about trying to break into new media, but it was very frustrating to come to a so-called "comedy technology summit" and hear celebrities say they don't like interactivity. Then, uh, go back to the non-interactive medium called "the movies" and give up your spot on the panel to ZUG?
  

• Rob Burgess, who is CEO of Shockwave, was the guy with the most industry pull, but he didn't speak up enough. There were a lot of comedy egos up there, and Rob couldn't compete. This is the only guy who is still standing in the world of online entertainment, and what he had to say was interesting; he just didn't say enough. One of his best quotes was, "There is a difference between profit and revenue. We can all get revenue; but how much does it cost to get that revenue?"

The two who unquestionably "got it," however, were Russell Simmons and Dave Foley. If I were writing for "TV Guide," I would give Mr. Simmons and Mr. Foley "cheers" (denoted by the universal sign of approval, understood even by the remotest pygmies in Australia, the "thumbs up" sign). I was happy that Dave Foley, one of my personal comedy heroes, was such a nerd. Man, he was great. He said that each member of his family owns a wireless laptop, and they all sit in their living room and do multiplayer gaming at night.

When the other panel members were poo-pooing the idea of "online communities," Dave talked about the online following of "The Kids in the Hall." He explained that he had come to know some of them quite well, that his audience was loyal and great. I knew exactly whereof he spoke. I was like, "Preach on, Brotha Dave." I did the Rikki Lake head-bob thing.

Mr. Foley likened online entertainment to the birth of radio and television, which is absolutely true: for instance, if we look at the folks who made it in the "new media" of television, they were not the ones who made it in the "old media" of radio. To the contrary: when radio stars finally did make the transition to television, the medium had already created a host of its own stars who understood how to better utilize the medium. The radio stars were thinking radio with pictures; the new TV stars were thinking television.

After the panel was over, I handed out whoopee cushions, which went like ... well, like whoopee cushions at a comedy festival. While I was promoting ZUG and asking attendees to vote, I ran into Judy, an executive for Comedy Central. Judy was producing the Web contest, and we had a nice chat. She had seen the ZUG flyers (which we had pasted on sidewalks, pay phones, and wayward children all over Aspen), and she liked the whoopee cushions. I asked if I could have her job, ha ha. Good rapport.

I spent the next few hours handing out whoopee cushions and T-shirts to folks in the "Cyber Cafe," a name which I was surprised to find people still using. I thought "Cyber Cafe" went out about the same time as "Sit on it." I think I read the obituary for both of those at just around the same time, page D3.

I told people the whoopee cushions were blatant bribes for votes. I often stood over attendees' shoulders and directed them how to push the buttons, since getting to the contest was about as intuitive as a Palm Beach County ballot (that joke, by the way, was also on page D3). If I "cheated" by coming to Aspen and campaigning my site, as any normal politician would do in a normal election, then I am guilty as charged. I bribed people with whoopee cushions. Hopefully, they won't organize a Congressional Committee.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that ZUG was already ahead in the polls: Jay had e-mailed family and friends of ZUG, who had all registered early-morning votes. What was even more stunning to me was that we were beating "The Onion."

I've never talked about "The Onion," because I've never wanted them to get any more publicity than they already do. Look: it's a funny site. I read it occasionally. But in any new media comedy competition, "The Onion" always wins. It's like going up against Hanks. There is no way you can compete. But "The Onion" has been around a long time, and it's become a successful comedy franchise. They've got "funny" money. They don't do their freaking web site in their spare time.

Do you understand the difference, my friend? Do you see why we must no longer vote for "The Onion" in future comedy competitions? It is not that they are not funny (they are), it is simply that their awards shelves are already sagging, and in grave danger of toppling over and killing someone! I've received some of those new media awards, and they are very heavy and have sharp, dangerous corners! A vote against "The Onion" is a vote for safety, I say!

We were beating The Freaking Onion. The Motherfreaking Onion!

Tomorrow: I squeeze Steve Martin's shoulder!

Aspen Comedy Festival, Part One

It had always been a dream of mine to attend the Aspen Comedy Festival.

The full name of the event is the "HBO U.S. Comedy Arts Festival," but everyone calls it the Aspen Comedy Festival. It's a kind of "comedy trade show," a place to network with other folks in the comedy biz, a place to check out what's hot and what's not (I cannot believe I just used that phrase; someone please remind me to kill myself); and a chance to ogle celebrities.

This very website you are reading, ZUG, had been nominated for their "Best of the Web" award. As I stated in my jounal before we left, the award itself was not that important to me. What was important, however, was what the award represented. I ran my own comedy show called Computer Stew for two years, recently cancelled. I really put a lot of effort into that show, and it's not fun to get laid off, especially from something you've done well.

But then, lo and behold, HBO gave us this "Best of the Web" nomination for ZUG. Jay and I had been doing ZUG since 1994, but let the site go dormant for two years while we worked on Computer Stew, and I had just cleaned it up again, in more ways than one, weeks before we received the nomination. The award itself was a piece of glass. What the award represented to me was a bit of renewed self-confidence: "Yeah, I can still do this, this is still worth pursuing."

I wanted to win the award. What would happen if we won the award? I knew exactly what would happen: nothing. No agent would immediately ring my cellphone. No HBO executive would suddenly offer us our own eight-part miniseries about the War of 1912 (a pet comedy project of mine); or a development deal for my zany sitcom idea featuring a talking mule and his fabulous cast of young, hip, Afro-American hip-hop dancers. They juggle also.

Here's what would happen: I would have one additional line on my resume. Not a big deal, just a small vote of confidence, a third-party verification that we were doing good work. And if we lost? Disappointing, but hey, we were nominated, which still works on a resume.

Enough groundwork, already. Let's get on with the story, Shakespeare.

My longtime collaborator Al and I got to Aspen, rented a brand new Intrepid with 11 miles on the odometer. We promptly wrecked it. Actually, we drove into town Thursday night, picked up our Black Diamond passes. Black Diamond is the highest pass level. Black Diamond gets you into nearly any event or party. Black Diamond passes also radiate superpowers, such as the ability to heal, or to turn horses into magical unicorns. Holding our Black Diamond passes in front of us like religious talismans, we got in line for "Janeane Garofalo's All-Star Winter Comedy Pageant." I'm a big fan of J.G., who played host for a bunch of stand-up comics.

The highlights of the show, in my opinion (and that's all you get on this site), were some guy whose name I did not remember but who wore a very nice shiny satin suit (bad marketing, nice threads), and Dave Chappelle, whom I shall now refer to as "The Great Dave Chapelle." Chapelle reminds me of a young Richard Pryor: his material is funny and fearless, full of that same kind of energy and genius. The Great Dave Chapelle was good. He closed the show.

Al and I had planned to see a midnight showing of "Catherine O'Hara and Friends," an annual cabaret show in which various celebrities often show up unannounced; as well as the 2:00 am performance by the Upright Citizens Brigade. The fact that the festival had a show at 2:00 am gives you an idea of its atmosphere. It was loose, man. But Al and I were jetlagged, and I had just pulled an all-nighter getting ZUG ready for the masses of traffic that were seeing it for the first time. So Al and I checked in to our hotel, where we spent the night gasping for air from the Aspen altitude.

Tomorrow would be a really, really good day.