DALLAS (AP)-- The number 3 was found stabbed to death at a Dallas home, police said.  The suspect remained at large Sunday.

A capital warrant was issued for the numeral 6, a long time associate of 3.  Police spokesman Lt. Payson Milledge said that 6 and 3 are related.

"It is believed that 6 is two times 3," said Milledge, who declined to answer further questions about the relationship.

The numeral 3, who represented the number 3, declined to speculate on the motive for the killing.  "I will wait for the police to conclude their investigation," he said.

Residents in this neighborhood of modest two-story homes said they didn't hear or see anything suspicious at the time of the killing.  Some were not surprised upon hearing of the murder.

"He was different from most of the folks on the block," said one neighbor who declined to be identified.  "He was odd."

3 retired to Dallas in 1996 shortly after Boating Accident Killed 4.   The two were constant companions in the millennia prior to the tragedy.

Copyright 2007 Brian McKim

Here's the opening paragraph of "10 Comics To Watch," an article that appeared in Variety the week of July 16-22:

"Determining who or what is funny is a highly subjective matter. One person's laugh riot might engender a mute response in another. There's no accounting for taste. So we left it to the tastemakers-- agents, managers, talent bookers and creative execs in network and cable TV-- to guide us in the right direction (emphasis mine).

The tastemakers? The tastemakers?! I'll let that sink in.

Now I'm not going to argue the merits of these ten fine people and I'm not going to debate whether or not they're deserving of the "To Watch" label. (I've worked with only one of them, Greg Giraldo, and found him to be a solid standup comic, a likeable guy both on and off stage.) But the article gave me the willies. And I think I've finally been able to put my finger on why.

To help you get into the proper "willies" frame of mind, I'll quote the rest of the "setup" to the story, the boxed intro that appears on page one of the piece:

These pros, (referring back to the agents, managers, etc.--BMcK) who make it their business to discover, nurture and develop comic talent, suggested who they felt are either the hottest up-and-comers or deserving of wider recognition. At some point, we at Variety had to narrow down the pool to 10 distinctive voices.

Their talent not only reflects the current zeitgeist of edgy humor that pushes the envelope, it's also rooted in the tradition of their predecessors who laid the groundwork and expanded the boundaries of comedy. While Variety's 10 Comics to Watch all toil in various disciplines, what they all have in common is courage, determination and a relentless pursuit of the elusive laugh.

Steve Chagollan
Senior Editor, Special Projects

(We suspect that there is no such person as Mr. Chagollan. We submit that any sentence that uses the triple crown of fashionable entertainment writing cliches "current zeitgeist," "edgy humor" and "pushes the envelope" (in the same sentence!) had to have been written by a machine or some sort of publicity writing software that needs updating. For the purposes of this column, however, we'll assume he's a real person.)

First of all, let's dispense with the pretense that Steve Chagollan, Senior Editor, Special Reports, was forced to solve the "what's funny?" conundrum by consulting with agents and managers and TV weasels. I don't know who this was written for, but somebody should tell Steve that we (those of us who fell off the turnip truck some time ago) ain't buyin' it. Oh, Steve got some input from agents and managers and executives all right. In fact, I think we can all agree that each of the ten profiles was written by the publicists, the agents and the managers of each of the featured personalities.

Secondly, is this what the comedy business has come to? We're consulting agents, managers, talent bookers and "creative execs in network and cable TV" on who or what is funny? I think the comedy business, as we have known it, is officially dead, gone, buried. The game is over. The guy who writes for Variety can't even think up a good cover story. He's had ten people rammed down his throat, to be featured in the Variety that will coincide with the JFL Festival, and he as much as says, "Here's the people they told me to write about... They're really hot! Trust me, people, these kids are the bomb!"

Thirdly, let's examine the timing of the article's appearance. The article was conspicuously timed to coincide with the Just For Laughs Festival, (which, it goes without saying, is predominantly about standup). It was included in the special 12-page Spotlight section of Variety that was handed out at the Fest, so someone wants these 10 people to be thought of as standup comics. (None of the 10 appeared at this year's Fest, however.)

The appearance of the word "Comics" in the "10 Comics To Watch" headline is an interesting use of the word. If you're thinking standup, guess again. But someone (agents, managers, execs) wants these people to be thought of as comics, probably even standup comics.

But the curious thing is that, in all of the copy about these ten, the word "standup" is rarely used (three times I think). So while the folks who represent them want them to be associated with standup comedy, they go to great lengths to distance their clients from actual standup. The exceptions are Greg Giraldo, Tony Rock and Elizabeth Beckwith. But, in the course of their profiles even they pull away from standup at warp speed. The ten mini bios contain lots of mentions of development deals, NBC, CBS, ABC, HBO, "performance," "acting," "hosting," writing (lots of writing), film school, "producers" and nearly all have a story of some serendipitous "chance" meeting with a producer (no doubt arranged by management).

While standup comics may generally be regarded as the funniest people on the planet, it's not enough to just be a standup comic. In fact, it's somewhat of a detriment if a client is perceived as a standup comic. The folks at Variety, in concert with various "creative execs" have re-defined "funny!" Indeed, they've re-defined "comics!" This article could be viewed as an effort to pry comedy and comics away from standup.

And here's the other vibe I'm getting, although I might be edging into defensiveness or paranoia: One of my pet theories (admittedly not one that required a tremendous amount of shrewd observation) was that there was a significant change in the standup comedy business in 1989 or thereabouts. I theorized that standup would morph into something totally different when it finally was subsumed into the entertainment business at large. I noticed that there was a stampede of comics (myself included, in 1988) moving to Los Angeles. Comics had always gone there. It just seemed that the vast majority were now headed there (Instead of, say, to New York). And the same was true of agents and managers. The rush was on. And standup would never be the same. When standup was weighted toward New York and the east, the emphasis was on the craft, the art. When it shifted westward, and the stakes rose, the formula was turned on its head. The "10 Comics To Watch" article is the culmination, the ultimate manifestation of this reversal. Why aren't the 10 Comics To Watch primarily comics? Why aren't we familiar with them for their years on the road and their numerous sold-out shows in the highways and the byways of standup America? Why are these folks lauded primarily for their art institute degrees or their "attractive angularity" or their "jaw-dropping resumes?" The whole thing sounds way too much like... the entertainment business.

They remind me of the actors and the actresses who take tap classes, learn swordplay and study with a dialect coach on weekends just to separate themselves from the pack. Has standup comedy become just like the rest of the entertainment biz? Sure, it was never enough just to be funny, but shouldn't you at least have to prove it is so before you're accorded the status of someone who is a comic who merits watching? And isn't a comedy club in the middle of nowhere the ultimate proving ground?

When did comedy become separated so cleanly from standup comedy? Is this a good thing? Is this a bad thing? If it has been severed from standup, when did that happen and how? Seinfeld hasn't been off the air for much more than three years, yet we seem to have learned nothing from the experience. Wasn't Seinfeld good enough? Would he be one of the 10 to watch today? Indeed, Ray Romano and Kevin James are still chugging along, garnering tremendous ratings, yet the rush is on to find the next film school graduate or starlet with "attractive angularity." Romano and James would be ignored if they were bobbing around in the ocean of "unconventional talents" and "truth tellers" who, with the help of their high-powered representation, are muscling everyone else out of the way.

There I was, in Montreal, at the biggest standup festival in the world. I'm witnessing some of the funniest, sharpest and most clever people on the planet entertaining packed houses with their words, their inflections, their minds. And Variety is implying that most of these people should work on their resumes if they ever hope to make it in this business.

Last year, in my August 2000 column, I wrote the following:

"The point is that the Festival isn't about standup comedy any more. The larger point is that standup comedy isn't about standup comedy any more. It's about deals and hype and big money.
"How naive can you be? It's always been about big money! you might be thinking. Well, yes and no.
"The Festival's rise to prominence closely mirrors the rise of standup comedy as a cultural phenomenon. Standup comedy became big business somewhere along the line. Some folks peg it at about 1989 or 90. Roseanne's series debuted in 1988. There followed a parade of experienced standup comics at the head of series: Seinfeld, Brett Butler, Tim Allen, Lenny Clarke, Kevin Meaney, Ellen Degeneres and a few others I'm leaving out. SNL started hiring more from the ranks of standup comedy. Standup was seen, legitimately, as a path to entertainment success. But somewhere along the line the whole thing got all turned around.
"Now Hollywood execs fly to another country to sit in a smoky cafe to see standup done by people who haven't been performing more than 700 days. And the average age of said performers hovers around 26 or so. Does this make any sense, considering the average age of the Seinfelds, Barrs or Allens when they were signed to do a series?
"There was a time when standup was simply about being funny. It was about being funny and experienced and competent when whipping a room full of people into a frenzy. But that isn't the point any more.
"So what exactly is the point? And why do people get all fired up about New Faces? Is there a hunger in Hollywood for inexperienced 20-somethings who have the ability to mimic a standup comic for seven minutes?"

Back to 2001, I guess the point is that Hollywood's insatiable hunger for people who don't resemble veteran standup comics has grown even greater in the last twelve months. They're determined to re-define what is funny; and they'll shun traditional yardsticks and they'll shun the time-honored experts (the people) in the process.

And all the while, the people who make the biggest noise at this standup Festival are "unknowns" like Ron White and Bill Engvall and Mitch Hedberg. (Note: the word "Unknown" is in quotes!) But the urgent mission is to "determine who or what is funny."

It's foolish to try to re-define funny. Because, after all, we all know that funny is funny. Right?

"Someone should do a study on how many standup comics wore trench coats in ninth grade and had to take frequent walks through the school metal detector."

--Chris Colon, Associate People Editor, salon.com, June 22, 2001

We've got a battery of columnists here who talk about standup in different ways. They talk about the business of standup, they talk about standup in L.A., in N.Y., they talk about the road, they attack standup from a variety of angles. My particular niche has been to talk about how standup is treated by the press, by the media, in the culture... at least that's the impression that everyone seems to be getting. I suppose it's appropriate that I deal with the media. I am, after all, listed on the masthead as the "Editor in Chief." And one of the clearly stated missions of this magazine has been to rehabilitate the image of standup comics in the minds of the public and to gently nudge the media into a more favorable portrayal of standup comics.
"It's OK to say most comedians are depressing and frightening..."

--Chris Colon, Associate People Editor, salon.com

My antennae have been sensitized to detect bias wherever it rears its ugly head. At first, I found the occasional cheap shot here and there. I was careful not to perceive anti-standup sentiment where none existed. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't merely hypersensitive. Now, however, my antennae are red and sore. I am picking up negative vibes on a monthly basis.
"Barbara Walters once said following an interview that she's 'never met a dumb comedian.' I disagree. In my seven years as a standup comic, I've never met anything but."

--Cory Busse, salon.com, Sept. 12, 2000

The magazine only got started in April of 1999, so we've got a lot of catching up to do, a lot of damage to reverse. We have several weapons at our disposal.

Chief among them are our aforementioned columnists. We're hoping that some of the folks in the press might read up on the art and the lifestyle and the business of the standup comic here and, in so doing, may might be little less snotty the next time they throw together a story about us. Civilians (those not in the press or in standup) might also be a little less willing to adopt and/or repeat the old stereotypes about standups if they regularly read SHECKYmagazine.com.

Another way we seek to change the perception of comics is by sending the occasional letter to a particularly vicious writer or publication. A reader alerted us to a particularly bleak (and ill-informed) piece in suck.com back in June of 2000 by a miserable jackass who identified himself only as "40th Street Black." Black, like so many other clueless members of the press, proclaimed the death of standup. We sent him and his "publication" a nasty but reasoned letter and we published several snappy rejoinders to the article from our readers (some nasty, most reasoned!) on our Like We Care page. We're happy to report that Suck.com has gone belly up while standup remains pink and healthy.
"You can see and hear a lot of funny stuff in a comedy club, it's just that almost none of it is up on stage. Those laugh factories that still exist do so as dimly-lit testaments to sweet human despair of the most naked and delectable kind."

--40th Street Black, Suck.com, June 6, 2000

We were hunting around on the search engines for various bits of information recently when we stumbled across the Salon.com profile of Mitch Hedberg. The author, identified as Salon.com's "Associate People Editor," was Chris Colon. While praising Hedberg, however, he fell into the same old lazy habit that so many of his ornery little colleagues fall into: He couldn't resist tearing down all the other comics. It's a peculiar thing to witness, this inability to say nice things about one comic without saying ugly things about nearly all other comics no matter who they're talking about! Hedberg is tremendous comic. You'd think there'd be enough greatness to talk about without tearing down other comics. But, no, Colon can't resist.

When rock critics spill gallons of ink on local rockers, they don't find it necessary to trash less-experienced rockers or bands that don't measure up. They deal with each band on its merits. The same with theater. And food. Why hasn't the coverage of standup matured in a similar manner? I've come to the rather embarassing conclusion that Colon and others like him are woefully inept when it comes to hiding their very deep-seated and, undoubtedly in some cases, personal dislike for comics. Jealousy? Perhaps. Something weird is going on.

I wrote Colon and Salon a letter. In it I said, among other things, that "You make reference to "bland misanthropy" and you imply that all or most comics are fake, vicious and unimaginative. You, my friend, gotta get out more. I say that without a hint of misanthropy. I simply mean that wherever you've been getting your standup from, you're not getting what our psychometrics friends might call a 'representative sample.'"

I got back a nice and reasonable letter from Mr. Colon. Unfortunately, I can't reveal the contents of that letter because, when I asked if I could excerpt it for this column, he replied that he'd rather I didn't and that he'd send me a different email. I guess the first one didn't have enough negative stereotypes and gratuitous slams of standup comics in it. At press time, I still haven't received a second reply from him. We hope we get a reply before Salon drops off the face of the earth like Suck did.
"Kids, if you want to be famous, don't try stand-up comedy. Sure, it worked for Jerry Seinfeld and Drew Carey and, at least for a while, Ellen DeGeneres, but at what cost? Traveling from town to town, standing in front of a brick wall, yelling like a crazy person, delivering the same jokes night after night--what kind of life is that? Being a comic is being in show business only in the way that being a bowler is being in professional sports."

--Joel Stein, Time Magazine, Aug. 10, 1998

There are a lot of comedy club owners who are panicking, post-9/11. They're sensitive to any dip in attendance and they're worried that America got some crazy idea that it's somehow inappropriate to aggresively seek out laughs by going to a comedy club. We think their fears are unfounded, but we understand their edginess. They're also edgy because, even when things were going well, they didn't always get the support from the local papers that they should have. In the post-9/11 world, establishments like restaurants and theaters can depend on a boost from the press. Judging from the press' track record, the comedy clubs have no reason to expect a similar boost. As one club owner we talked to put it, getting a hit from the local paper has always been "like pulling teeth." After reading the press quotes I've excerpted here, is it any wonder? Some people might say that I'm way too sensitive to this anti-standup bias. I say they're wrong. I also must say that, aside from it being personally hurtful, it's an impediment to the business.

If editors and writers think this way about standup comics (and if they rather blatantly convey it in their articles), it translates into fewer articles and (totally unwarranted) negative press. The reader picks up on such things. The end result is the withering of a legitimate and popular branch of the live entertainment biz. There are plenty of artists and art forms that don't exactly tickle the fancy of critics--Britney Spears, Raffi, 3/4 of all the movies that have ever been made. Yet they continue to devote acres of Entertainment Section real estate to such endeavors, all the while being pretty charitable. I once heard a movie described as "a disaster, but not unwatchable." Can you imagine a standup comic getting cut such a break?

After the atrocities of September 11, we sensed that many people changed their attitude about standup comedy. It appeared as though comics experienced an "upgrade" similar to that which had been experienced by firemen and cops. In my October column, I wrote that "When we started this magazine 31 months ago, we were a little sore at America and at the press for what we perceived as shoddy treatment of standup comics... We still feel misunderstood. After what we've witnessed over the last two weeks however, it seems as though America appreciates us." We hope the good feelings last. We hope that the newspaper editors also pick up on the upgrade.

We'll be out there monitoring things.

So I'm cleaning my glasses in a hotel room in Iowa and they break on me. I'm getting ready for that night's show and, just like that-- no sound, no snap, crackle or pop-- they snap in two. Right at the bridge, the one that crosses the nose. I had another pair, so it wasn't a big crisis.

I immediately flashed back to when I purchased them, about five or six years ago. I hadn't had to pick out a pair of eyeglasses in quite a while. So, I hopped on over to the mall and strolled up to the nearest vendor of "fashion eyewear." (That's a curiously tortured way of saying "glasses." You see, men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, but girls who wear fashion eyewear? They're a lot like that poor cat in all those Peppy LePew cartoons.)

I recall that I had to replace my old fashion eyewear (purchased five years before that) because gradually, over a period of years, they had evolved into "out-of-fashion eyewear." So, I edged up to the counter and tried not to attract the attention of what is often incongruously referred to as "the help."

There are four words that I have learned to despise when I am in a retail situation: "May I help you?" When I hear this, I suppress my first impulse-- That is, to simply say, "No." That would be rude... or so I've been told. So I say, "No, thanks. I'm just looking." Why the prickliness? I'll tell you why. More often than not, when the retailer asks me, "May I help you?" She/He has little intention of helping at all. Especially in the context of a fashion eyewear store. These people are special and rare.

I went into a Lens Crafters once (or was it a Pearl?), when yet another old pair of glasses busted somehow (I forget how, but it's not important). (If you're following along at home, this is a flashback within a flashback.) Thus, my education began (see above). I strode purposefully up to the counter, my injured specs in hand.

"May I help you?" asked the lady (with absolutely no intention of helping me).

"Yes," I began, "I was wondering if you could fix my glasses."

(Here comes the good part!)

She examined the glasses for a nanosecond, turned to me with a look of annoyance and pity and said, "Hmmm...that would be just fixing them until they broke again."

It was a turning point in my life.

In an instant, I turned the sentence over and over in my mind--That would be just fixing them until they broke again! Wow! The internal logic! The almost truth of it! The stealthy way in which she had simultaneously rejected my plea for assistance and enabled me to see the ridiculous and wholly untenable nature of my request! Why, of course! That would be just fixing them until they broke again! How moronic of me to think otherwise!

I should have known she would respond this way. She was, after all, in the business of selling new glasses. And I shouldn't have been surprised by her attitude. (I noticed, far too late however, that her landing gear was deployed--she was prepared to condescend! She had been treating other customers in an equally insulting manner.)

I said nothing. I was rendered speechless by this nifty bit of retail stonewalling. I have noticed since then that the folks who deal in the vending of fashion eyewear are masters at subtly bullying customers. But I have also taken a certain delight in standing my ground and actually trying to get what I want when I'm confronted with such obstinacy.

So, when my current prescription windows on the world snapped into two equal parts, I was reminded of how I got them in the first place. (Now we return back to the initial flashback.)

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like those glasses right there." I pointed to a pair of plain, black frames. The plainest, blackest frames, unadorned, non-designer, timeless in their simplicity. They were, coincidentally in a "reduced price" ghetto, off to the extreme right, far from it's more fashionable friends.

"Those glasses? You don't want those glasses." (I swear to you, that's what she said.)

I repeated that I wanted those glasses and I achieved just enough of a menacing tone to get what I wanted, but not enough that it would maker her call 9-1-1. She complied.

I ordered a pair in black and I ordered a pair in a sort of amber and black tortoise shell color. The style had a name (all the styles have names!) and this one was called "Harry." This, too, delighted me to no end. I returned in a few days and picked them up. I ventured out into the world with Harry on my face.

It took only 15 minutes for the first wisecrack. On the way home from the mall, I stopped into a seafood takeout joint to order some flounder. I walked in and the man behind the counter, whom I had never met before in my life, said "What are you? One of the Hansen brothers?" (No "Hi, how are you?" No "May I help you?" Just "What are you? One of the Hansen brothers?")

I gotta give the guy credit for at least being original. His reference to the belligerent, hockey-playing threesome from the 1977 classic Slap Shot is an artfully obscure one. Since then I have heard the following "What are you?"'s (in descending order):

1. Buddy Holly
2. Drew Carey
3. Drew Carey on speed
4. Greg Proops
5. Tom Kenney

(Two minor points: One, Holly's frames were much thicker than mine and a bit top-heavy--a different style altogether-- the same goes for Proops' frames. And, two, Kenney doesn't even wear glasses anymore. So there!)

Finally, on the day before the glasses broke, as I was checking into a hotel, the lady behind the counter said (and I am not making this up), "You know who you look like? Billy Holiday!" Yeah. That's right. I look like a black, female, heroin-addicted blues singer. I think she meant Buddy Holly, but I can't be 100 per cent sure. Maybe she needs glasses.

I hear the comments when I'm onstage, too. "Hey! It's Buddy Holly!" someone will yell. It's a momentary distraction. Sometimes I deal with it, most times I let it drop.

And for some odd reason, these frames have reinforced this notion that I'm some sort of an intellectual comic. I've never really refuted this notion. In fact, in my press kit, I include a quote from Alan King in which he calls me "an egghead comic." But the stark reality is that, aside from using a couple of twelve-dollar words and phrases here and there ("digress," "euphemistically" and "atomic number" to cite a few), the act is built on a sturdy frame of dick jokes and scatology! The egghead thing is largely illusion! And, as for the glasses somehow "making" me intelligent, well, I gotta tell you, they didn't force me to take an IQ test when I bought them! Any lunkhead with $49 and an astigmatism can own a pair of Harry's!

So did I ditch the glasses? Certainly not! I took my sorry specs around to three or four different establishments seeking an identical replacement. No dice. "We don't carry those," they all said. "However, all of our designer frames are on special!" No thanks. I slunk out of each store, defeated. Once, when I was in a WalMart, I heard an announcement over the PA about their Vision Center. I hurried over only to find Our Lady of Medjugorje signing autographs. I began to despair. Then I got mad!

After a bit of scooting around the WWW, I found a website and an 800 number for the folks who manufactured Harry and-- joy!-- they still made them! I called and gave them my zip code and they gave me the name of two opticians in my area who either carried the frames or could order them! I hustled on over to one of the opticians, I pawed their catalog for a minute or two and-- there they were!

As I type this, I am wearing my new Harry frames. All is 20/20 with the world. My most recent dealings with the optician didn't go smoothly (of course!), but the end result is that I got exactly what I wanted. And I am learning to deal with the Buddy Holly references with grace and composure. ("You know who you look like?" they ask. "Billy Holiday!" I reply. It confuses them momentarily and it fills them with just a tiny bit of doubt. And it gives me just enough time to scramble away and deal with the next rude but well-meaning fan.)