Hello guardians of email,
A couple of quick things:
1. Sleepwalk with Me has been extended through June 7th! The shows are Friday, Saturday & Sunday – and they’ve been packed, so get tickets soon if you want to come.
2. This Friday we have a special “Awkward 10 Minutes” with one of my favorite actors, Will Forte from Saturday Night Live. Don’t miss that.
3. I’m coming to Los Angeles for 2 shows only April 14th and 15th at this great place called Largo. Tickets go on sale today. Please spread the word to your friends who live in California who send me hatemail because I never do shows in California. This time they’re wrong. And I’m right. So right.
And now, clipped from the pages of My Secret Public Journal…
Dear Journal,
This week I went to jury duty in the New York criminal court. Coincidentally, everyone at jury duty seems like they are criminals. And it kind of feels like you’re in the movie Clue and someone’s going to come out and say, “One of you has committed a MURDER! And today we’re going to figure out who it is! Was it the crazy lady in the parrot tee shirt standing by the coffee/soup maker machine? Or is it the extremely old man guy who clearly doesn’t speak English asking the proctor questions in a language no one understands?”
To be honest, I was a little afraid of going to jury duty. I don’t even know why. I pay my taxes. I don’t break the law. I just had this part of me that feared I would make some small mistake and somehow end up in jail. Like I’d go in and they’d be like, “Please state your name,” and I’d be like, “New York City…I mean, Mike Birbiglia.” And they’d be like, “You’re under arrest.”

I think it’s because I’m a little afraid of the cops. I think maybe because of their limited power and no rules. When I was just out of college I borrowed my friend Brian’s car to emcee at a comedy club in Ocean Township, New Jersey called Rascals. The trip cost me about $50 in gas and tolls – which is exactly how much they paid me. It was a break-even proposition, which was perfect because I was broke. It kept me at even.
So I was driving down the ramp towards the Lincoln tunnel and really just keeping with the speed of traffic and I get waved over by a cop. He explains that I was speeding, which was confusing because I had just been going the same speed as everyone else. So I ask what the speed limit was and he said 25. And I laughed a little. And I could tell by how perfectly still his moustache remained that he didn’t think it was funny. And he asked for my license. And I took it out. And I realized at that moment that it had expired weeks ago.
So he takes the license, walks back to his cruiser and does whatever cops do at their cruisers; stretch out their hamstrings, text message their girlfriends, buy the CHIPS box set on DVD on Amazon. And when he returns to the car he asks me, “Do you know that your license is suspended?”
Now I didn’t know what the term suspended meant. I knew it was expired. So I said, “Yea…I mean no…I mean, what’s suspended?” Well, whatever I said must have reminded him of his girlfriend he beat up earlier that day because he said, “Please step out of the car.” And I said, “Why?” Well I guess this was no time to be Annie Lennox, because he pulled me out, pushed me up against the car, and handcuffed me. That’s when I thought, “This seems serious.”
So I’m sitting in the back of the cruiser for about 20 minutes. I don’t know what the cop could be doing: checking his email, soliciting gay sex on Craigslist, re-reading “The Bell Curve.” Well, I’m a bit claustrophobic and fidgety, so I don’t do too well in the backs of police cruisers in handcuffs. I remember I had an itch on my neck and I try to scratch it against the door handle, which kind of looked like I was trying to “Houdini” my way out of the handcuffs.
Eventually the cop came back and drove me to the police station. When I check in, they made me take out my shoelaces. You know, so I wouldn’t hang myself for feeling so bad about the whole suspended license incident. The officer took my photo and then took an extra one for himself after he found out I was comedian. He said it was just “in case I got famous.” I was flattered. At least he thought I had a shot.
Fortunately, there were no other inmates that night in the Weehawken, NJ jail. Just me and a toilet. I considered doing push-ups to get the “being in jail” vibe. I wasn’t restricted to the one phone call rule because although they took my shoelaces, they DID NOT take my cell phone. And guess who has free nights and weekends? I made a lot of calls that started with the words, “Guess who’s in jail?” mostly to friends on the west coast since it was 3 in the morning where I was.
This week I went to jury duty and it went pretty well. I got a certificate that says I don’t have to go back for 4 to 6 years. And they didn’t even arrest me for no reason. They must have done that to the lady in the parrot tee shirt.
And that concludes this week’s entry in my secret public journal.
COLLECTIBLE TOUR DATES!
APRIL