Isolated and 40 year-old boy-ed

You’ve probably guessed from these first seven words that I’m not Sean McTiernan, a man whose prose is so distinct you know whether or not you’re reading it within the first seven words. You guessed correctly; my name is Mike Schmidt, and I host “The 40 Year Old Boy”, a very successful podcast across the pond in America. Now, when I say “very successful”, I mean it; to date, I’ve recorded 105 shows and made at least $2000.00 in merchandise sales. That’s just over $19.00 an hour, a princely sum I dare say you’d be hard pressed to make in the potato mills and marshmallow-cereal factories that keep the whiskey-soaked economy of your homeland afloat.

(It’s okay: I’m half-Irish, so I can get away with such blarney. Of course I’m also half-German, so you’re lucky I didn’t try to get away with much worse.)

Your friend Sean is shuffling off this printed coil and heading for greener pastures, which really doesn’t make much sense; are there any pastures in the world greener than those right there on the ole’ Emerald Isle? My Grade 12 American education tells me there are not. Actually, my Grade 12 American education tells me a lot of things about you folks in Ireland, among them…

First and perhaps most importantly, you’re wee, and somewhat magical. You eat your gruel with the aid of gnarled sticks called “shillelaghs”. You gain super strength with the aid of a liquid called “Powers Gold Label”. Your most popular crop is the “shamrock”, which is exported not only to luck merchants in China, but to milkshake-making clowns in my home country of America.

You are so universally reviled that when your national team plays another country in soccer, it is acceptable for the players from the other nations to use their hands to score goals against you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

There are no snakes in your country … well, other than Brian Cowen. Oh, and you hate England; something about a church or a painting or something, I forget. You people have been at this for a while. Now that I’ve proven I can use Wikipedia, let me tell you a little about myself… I’m a fuck-up. End of list.

I’m a 42 year-old man who does a free show out of a stripper’s bedroom. I’m writing an article – again, for free – for college-age people who actually have a life and a future ahead of them. I’m not sure if my involvement here falls under “cruel joke” or “cautionary tale”.

I’m the future your parents warned you about, the end result waiting for you if you ignore all of the lessons imparted by teachers and authority figures. You know all that bullshit about “stay in school and apply yourself, lest you wake up one day and realize that not only are you the host of a show no sane person would ever think about paying you for, but you now have to write a column/essay explaining to people you’ve never met just how badly things have gone to hell”? Turns out it’s all true, and I wish I’d seen it coming.

All that said, however, I think it’s important to point out the dichotomy lurking just below the surface of all this self-loathing: I think I am fucking great. Seriously – even as I’m typing these very words about how I’ve bungled nearly every important decision I’ve ever had in my life, I’m thinking about just how well-written this entire piece is, and how incredibly lucky you people are to be reading it. Through it all, my genius persists, and your entire nation is the better for having been touched by it. You’re welcome, O’Sullivan.

What I’m telling you people is this: don’t let it get away from you, because it goes, and it goes fucking fast. One day you’re starting your dream career in standup comedy, working your way up the ranks while earning the respect and admiration of your peers, and the next you’re a voice in the wilderness, ranting against the dying light, trying to see what’s left of your future through the smoke of all the bridges you’ve burned along the way.

So, what to do now? Well, you can chuckle to yourself, dismiss what I’ve said out of hand and continue on your merry way … or you can take this column to heart, realize that the path you’re on is similar to my own dead-end, and heed the warnings I’ve set before you. Consider me “The Ghost Of Fucked-Up Future”, a wraith who has come to show you that a life of excess and sloth will lead you to become a walking ghost, or “podcaster”, dead inside at an early age, and doomed to recount your foolish exploits for your inferiors without compensation. It’s your choice, Séamus.

If you’d like more of Mike you can check out his podcast at http://mikeschmidtcomedy.com/podcast.asp or just type “40 year old boy” into the itunes store.

Be his friend on http://www.facebook.com/the40yearoldboy and http://www.twitter.com/the40yearoldboy

Also hit up http://www.mikeschmidtcomedy.com/ and www.comedyfilmnerds.com to read more of his musings.