This is what Patton Oswalt has to say about my town. It's funny because it is true.
4/24 LARCENY IN LANSING
The Temple Club in Lansing. It loomed over the tortilla-flat streets like a lanky drunk. Lansing has this post-apocalyptic, abandoned charm that reminds me of Stephen King's THE STAND.
Inside the club it was fun. Afterwards, not so fun.
Someone stole Brian's Mr. Show tour jacket and cell phone. So many suspects. Was it a random fan who wandered into the non-policed green room? Maybe the employee who made it a point to say, "Nice jacket" to Brian? Or was it the ex-employee who showed up, drunk, and tried to pick a fight with our tour manager?
Hercule Poirot is one of my favorite fictional characters. But he was always solving clever poisonings of dowagers. We had to track down a cell phone and a jacket.
Me and two security guys (one of whom had beaten up the ex-employee earlier in the evening) drove around, first to the ex-employee's house, where we called the cell phone and listened for the Metallica song that Brian uses for a ring tone. We also lurked near his car. While we were gone, Eugene and Maria kept their eyes on the other employees.
Nothing.
Hey Lansing, find that fucking jacket.
Depressing.
