Microsoft, you have a problem.

2-22-07-broken_heart_xbox360.jpg DON’T BUY AN XBOX 360!

That’s right, you heard me!


The console needs a major redesign. It has a 33% failure rate, t’s flawed, and they know it. Why do you think they’re spending over a billion dollars in repairs.

If you’re a 360 fanboy and your Xbox breaks down, I say again…

DON’T BUY ANOTHER ONE! Don’t reward these pin heads for their piss poor product! It’s made in China at the same place they make dog food and toys with lead paint.

I guess you can tell by the above rant that my Xbox 360 broke down.

I had just purchased a brand new copy of Bio Shock. The shooter that has been hailed as potential game of the year. Am I psyched? You bet!

I turn the machine on. Place the disc in the tray. Press start and I’m no more than two minutes into the CG intro when the screen freezes.

Am I bummed out? That’s an understatement. How can this be my fault? I haven’t touched the machine in over three freakin’ weeks. I know it wasn’t an act of God because God loves me and he would never want me to stop playing video games.

I called Microsoft and they showed me no love. No sympathy. No compassion. I know that’s hard to do when you live half way ‘round the world. (I know you live half way round the world Mr. Tech Support because your name is RV, and I don’t know anyone named after a large recreational vehicle.)

They asked me to send them $100. for repairs because my one year warranty was up. My machine is barely a year and a half old. SCREW YOU!

MICROSOFT, knows they have a defective product and they want ME to send THEM $100. to fix THEIR defective product? It’s not just the three red rings of death. Screen freezing is an issue. Take a look on the internet. I spent over an hour watching Youtube videos and reading forum postings about this problem. They should be paying me a hundred dollars for the inconvenience of going to the post office and sending in my machine.

I don’t think that purchasing a piece of electronic equipment and expecting it to last for more than a year is an unrealistic expectation. ESPECIALLY WHEN I’VE PAID $400. FOR IT!
There should be a class action law suit against Bill Gates and these clowns. This is not a paper hat. It’s a $400. machine.

I have 26 games and most of them are $60 a piece. I have an extra controller, two head sets and a freakin’ plastic guitar! For the love of God, how about some loyalty here! Your faulty product breaks down and I have to send YOU a hundred dollars. NEWS FLASH! You’re not the only next gen gaming console out there!

They told me when I get it back, I have the option of buying an extended warranty.
WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO BUY AN EXTENDED WARRANTY? It’s almost like buying protection from the mob.

Okay, that’ll be $399 plus tax.
You wanna get the extended
warranty with that?

No thanks.

You know, you’re only covered
for 90 days. If something were to
happen… let’s say… it BREAKS!

My 360 is going to break?
I’m paying $400 for something
that’s going to break in three months…

Whoa, whoa, whoa. You puttin’ words
in my mouth over here? I didn’t say dat. .
Duh Tree-Sixty is a very good product.
I’m just sayin’, shit happens, you know?
You might wanna tink about
protectin’ your investment.

How much is the extended warranty?

200 bucks.

200 BUCKS?!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, keep your voice down, all right?
Now look, Mr. ah… ah…


Mr. Sucker. You look like a
pretty reasonable guy, am I right?
…and you certainly
don’t look like someone who was born a minute ago.
Let’s say somethin’ were to happen,
like, let’s say when you leave here, poor old
Mr. Xbox happened to have a little
accident or somthin?
You bring it in, we take care of it,
no questions asked.

No questions asked?

No questions asked.

Oh, well… all right
Where do I bend over, I mean sign?

Right here, and believe me,
you won’t be sorry. You’re not just
buying an extended warranty.
You’re buying piece of mind. .


So long, Sucker!

Dear XBOX 360,

Why have you forsaken me?

I paid my money, I took you home.

I kept you well ventilated and left you alone.

I put a fresh disc in your tray every day.

We watched movies together. Oh, the games we would play.

I’ve bragged about you to my Playstation friends.

We’ve played LIVE on the internet with other strange men.

Some say you’re too hot. They laugh and they scoff.

My wife says you sound like a jet taking off.

You awarded achievement points, for every goal I achieved.

I thought those points meant something, that’s what I believed.

I gave you the best gaming hours of my life

And this is how you repay me?

Good-bye and goodnight!


I’m going to go play with my Wii.

…that is, if I can find one.

by Greg Morton

Viva Lostalgia

p1010024.jpgMy wife and I were in Vegas last week and even though we’ve only been coming here for the past ten years, I felt a little nostalgic for the old Vegas. Not the Bugsy Siegel Vegas, but the less crowded Vegas of ten years ago.

Seven thousand new people move to Las Vegas every month, and of those seven thousand, six thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine of them can’t drive. The sign at the outskirts of town should read, ‘Welcome to Las Vegas, Where the worst drivers in the world come to rent a car.’ Sometimes I think i’d be better off renting a tank.

I usually rent a KIA because it’s the cheapest thing they have and I’m a cheap bastard. . My gambling budget for the week was three dollars on the nickel machines at Caesars. At this rate, we should get comped a free meal in about twenty-seven years.

In my act, I always complain about how good customer service is going to hell. In fact, I bet you’ld find better customer service in hell than you would on earth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Satan, would you mind sticking me in the ass with that pitch fork while lighting the rest of me on fire?”

“Why I’d be more than happy to Mr. Morton. I’ll even throw in some of our best eternal hell fire, fresh from the Lake of Fire.”

“Thank you Mr. Satan. Could you please tell me why in hell can’t I get this kind of service on earth?”

“Because the real hell is on earth Mr. Morton, that’s why!”

Well, imagine my surprise when I walked into Budget rental car agency in Las Vegas and my new good friend Kirby, upgraded me from a four cylinder KIA to a brand new, red metallic , Ford Mustang convertible! Now I’m tearing up from all the nostalgia because the new Mustang has that great retro styling that is reminiscent of the 60’s pony car.

I love the Ford Mustang! I wouldn’t want to sit in the back of one unless you bound and gagged me, but I love the Ford Mustang. When I was a kid, the Ford Mustang was my favourite car. I used to have a model of the 67’ fastback on my book shelf. I vowed that one day, if I ever had the money or a mid life crisis, I would buy a Ford Mustang. Well, it’s been forty years and I own a Ford Focus. What happened? I told you I was a cheap bastard.

As you may know, I perform at the Comedy Stop at the Tropicana which was celebrating it’s 50th anniversary. When I look at the old photographs on the walls, it’s difficult not to feel a little nostalgic. Then the bathtub in my hotel room backs up at six in the morning and starts spewing grey sludge accompanied by a strong sulphur smell and the nostalgia quickly passes.

The Tropicana hotel is so old it has its own smell. It’s not a grandmother’s house smell, but more of a stale nutty roasted smell. ( I’m guessing that’s from fifty years of cigarette smoke.) The tar from all the nicotine is probably the only glue holding the old girl together.

Actually, maybe it does smell a little like grandma. Some of the original cocktail waitresses still work there. “Here’s a tip honey. Why don’t you go buy yourself some new bridge work?”

Screw this nostalgia crap. If I was performing here fifty years ago, I wouldn’t even be allowed to walk through the casino let alone stay in one of their rooms. I want to feel like I’m living in the 21st century and not a museum. Somebody please implode this son of a bitch and put it out of its misery. Viva New Las Vegas! Sometimes, the good ole’ days ain’t so good.

Whoosh! That was the sound of my nostalgic feeling quickly passing.

Cell Hell


Last night, I watched the crowd during the show and I noticed a disturbing trend.

I call it C-P.A.D.D. Cell Phone Attention Deficit Disorder.

I sat at the rear of the show room, stunned at the number of people talking, looking at pictures, and checking their voicemail during the show.

Someone needs to write a book about cell phone etiquette before this kind of crass behavior reaches a new multi-task level of idiosy. I’m just not sure if anyone has an attention span long enough to read it.

How can we ever hope to attain any level of spiritual evolvement when we can’t stand to be alone with our own thoughts for more than 30 seconds.

“Dear God, I was wondering if… hang on, someone’s trying to call me on my cell.”

Here’s the problem. These phones have too many features. The cel phone is so complicated, I don’t think half the people who own them know how to shut them off.

As a performer, I feel that many of my best performances have been stymied by these little devices. How can I compete with somthing that takes pictures, movies, surfs the internet, checks email, tells me the time, date and weather, plays music and video games, wakes me up, plans my day, and writes my best friend a short cryptic message that only Prince would understand? (I will dY 4 U) I can’t think of anything short of sticking two Roman Candles up my ass, setting them ablaze and running in circles screaming, “the Eagle has landed!”

I don’t understand text messaging. You’re holding $300 worth of technology in your hand, you can talk to anyone in the world via satelite and you’re going to write me a letter?

Over the holidays I had someone text message me that Saddam Hussein had just been executed. I paid 75 cents for that? I didn’t realize I was on the death watch list or in the Saddam death pool.

Was he a bad man? Yes. He was a dictator. It’s no surprise that the word dictator has the word dick in it. But was he worth 75 cents of my hard earned money? NO! Why would you text me how the movie ends? It’s the ‘Titanic.’ I know the ending!

A few weeks ago, someone made a call right in front of me while I was on stage, so I took his phone and shoved it down my pants.

You’ve all been warned!

Here’s your thought for the day.

Does Martin Cooper; inventor of the cell phone, feel the same guilt that Oppenheimer must have felt after inventing the atomic bomb?

Hello world!

This is the first day of my blog and I just hope someone reads it.

I’ve never been a big fan of blogs. I don’t read blogs and I’ve never wanted to have a blog. Why would anyone want to read somone’s diary, unless it had sexually explicit details of what to do with various vegetables found in the crisper? Here’s what I think a typical blog looks like.

Dear Blog;

Today, I woke up and ate a hard boiled egg and a half slice of dry wheat toast. I felt so guilty. Like a dirty little whore. When will I get my period? It’s been six weeks!

Here’s a picture of my cat…