Those Who Know
Once, while being driven from the Atlanta airport to the hotel, our cab driver started talking shit. He was creeping towards a racist rant. We were still a ways away from the hotel when it dawned on us that he felt super okay with being a hateful weirdo.
Mitch leans forward, “Hey Man. Up here on the right is a deli that sells Boar’s Head Ham. Can you stop so we can grab something to eat?”
Mitch returned with THREE subs. No one spoke for the rest of the trip.
Lesson learned. It’s impossible to spew racist crap while eating a delicious sandwich.
I miss you Mitch.
May 12, 2011
Remembering My Brother
By Angela Anderson
It seems like only yeterday when you were sitting in that recliner, headphones on, rock-n-roll playing in your ear, head rolling to the rhythm. We would hang out all day until Mom and Dad got home. Sometimes you would go away with your friends, and sometimes I was lucky enough to have you home making me laugh, putting fishbowls on your head. You would say: “Imagine I was born with this on my head, and I would try to act normal.” Then you would come out of the porch (the place you went to get ready for all of your “acts”) with the fishbowl attached and you would say – with a straight face: “I wonder why I can’t get a date.” I would laugh and laugh and say, “Will you put on another show?” Next it would be a hanger on the head. You entertained me for hours… I will never forget it! We fought like normal siblings do, but for the most part things were good.
Well, like it has a tendency to do, life moved on. The older we got, the more we did our own things. You and Wendy (our sis) were pretty close too, with only 13 months separating you. You had some of the same friends, and I can remember the two of you talking for hours before bed, laughing and talking. Usually, like the bratty little sister I was, I would shout down the stairs “MOM, MITCH AND WENDY WON’T STOP TALKING!!” Man if we only knew then what we know now. I would give anything to hear the two of you talking and laughing and keeping me awake today.
I miss those growing up years; we really had great childhoods, fun and loving parents and a great home. Well time moved on, I became a teenager, busy with teenage life, Wendy got married, and you and your friend Tim headed for Florida, for what became your lifetime career, the comedy world. I ended up missing you a lot because I did not see very much of you, as you were pursuing your career. As you grew and you became successful, we saw very little of you, with all your traveling, etc. It was fun traveling with Mom and Dad to come and see you in Florida or California or wherever you were.
We were, and still are, so proud of all your accomplishments. You not only entertained us, but the world around you as well. Your fan base is huge!
As I sit here right now writing I am thinking about how sorry I am that the demons (drugs) took all of those dreams away. I would love to be watching you on TV, seeing you in the movies, anticipating your visits, and hearing your voice and your laughter. Unfortunately the reality is you have left us. I have to accept the fact that you are in a ‘better place’. I know you are ok, and I know you are safe.
Thank you for the laughter, the love, the smiles, and until we are together again – LATER.
May 13, 2011
Mitch and I were sleeping.
I can’t remember.
It was day or night.
Anyway, I heard him softly laughing and
it woke me up.
It sounded really good.
He laughed some more,
He was saying “cheap…cheap!” – but quietly
(I LOVE it when people talk in their sleep,
It’s my favourite quality in a person)
Mitch loved the word cheap.
As in seedy,
another word that he was into.
“Hey, you’re laughing baby” (aaahh…shit don’t wake up. Keep talking…I love it.)
“I was in the middle of a dream,
and right out of nowhere an image of
rolled into my head. He was on a chopper,
like he was a leader of a motorcycle gang”
I could see it in my own head immediately.
“My brain is cheap, man”
He laughed and fell back to sleep.
I lay there awake for a while,
trying out a few different bandanas on
Homer. I settle on purple and then
May 15, 2011
Hedberg returns to Vegas
By Julie Seabaugh
Any dirt from touring with Dave and Lewis?
Pretty much Attell and Black, they went out every night, and they can hang out with the crowd. I can’t do that, man. I’m afraid if I’m talking to someone, and someone else is trying to talk to me, and I talk to that person, I’m like, “Oh, now that person is mad,” so I get all concerned. So I don’t have a lot of good stories ’cause I didn’t really go out very much. But I was so happy to be on that tour. That tour to me was like—I don’t know, what’s a happy pill?
I guess Prozac, but that’s only if you’re depressed, but it was like I couldn’t be sad no matter what happened, you know?
With That ’70s Show and Almost Famous, you’ve been dabbling in a bit of acting?
It’s all accidentally. You know what the bottom line is with acting? I don’t think I’m a good actor. I don’t think that I’ll ever become an actor that should be hired over anybody else by any means, you know what I mean? And that’s the bottom line. The truth of the matter is, they want to hire me to be me, essentially, which is hard to do. I would say that acting is something all comics have dangled in their face.
So what is your big goal, then?
That’s the question. I would have to say to write and direct, and I got burned the first time I did it. I made a movie [1999's Los Enchiladas!], wrote it, directed it, but I also acted in it. My manager wanted me to be in it, and you know, I did an alright job in it, but the thing is, the movie never got bought. I played it at Sundance, but it burned me because it was a bad experience. I spent a lot of money. I probably shouldn’t have been in Sundance my first movie, but I also shouldn’t have given myself such a big part. I’m embarrassed to watch the movie because I’m in it.
What’s the scene like for you backstage? How do you prepare?
Backstage has always been my area for me where I’ve always had high expectations of good times. I’ve always wanted to have it just right. I’m really into putting on some music that the whole audience can hear, and if I can do that, I’ll do that. Most of my backstage experiences are in these little rooms in comedy clubs. Now that I have an actual theater-backstage area, I’m trying the massage technique. I brought a lady in who does massages on one of those chairs—you know those chairs? I paid for her to come in for an hour, and everyone’s entitled to 10-, 15-minute massages, whatever they want.
I would love to sit backstage and just do some moderate amounts of drugs with some friends and have some good times, but you know you’ve got to keep that stuff … you’ve got to walk around with a water in your hand, which is sad. So it’s massages, and some fruit, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of waltzing around, and just kind of listen to the crowd mumble, and then some music.
After this tour winds down, what’s up next on the horizon?
That’s a good question. I’d probably say back to the clubs, back to the colleges. I don’t mean “back to it” in a bad way, but I mean it’s just going to be stand-up. I did just buy an RV. I had a small one for about two years, and I got hooked on pulling into a campsite and plugging it in and relaxing. And now I’ve got a nice one, and I just want to ride around and chill out in some of the classic American parks.
Any other final thoughts on life, love, happiness?
In the words of the opening of the movie Troy, we’re going to fight like warriors and love like, I don’t know … I think it’s the two lines that open the movie Troy that best suit me, even though I can’t come up with them now. [Laughs] But other than that, I’m happy, and I just want to stay happy, and as long as my mom and dad are alive, I want to have a relationship with them that stays pretty good, ’cause that’s always a touchy live wire there. I want to live and let live and be let-lived to let live. So there you go.
- Julie Seabaugh
Excerpts from Interview in
Las Vegas Weekly