As of this writing, I’m ten days snus-free. That first weekend was rough, but I’m glad to say that going cold turkey has worked out well for me so far. I say so far to be safe, but I feel confident I’m done with that shit. I’m an all-in kind of guy.

As for mood swings, they seem to have calmed down, although I have been pretty fucking irritated the past few days. Okay, week. I’m not always the most patient of men at the best of times and maybe nicotine was a helpful aid while dealing with nonsense.

I’m currently annoyed with audiences. I’ve been in a creative mood lately and have a lot of new material but, sadly, little opportunity to work it all out. That is actually a bit of a blessing though, as it forces me to prioritize what I want to do on stage. I have a new bit I’m very excited about, where I complain about Black people appropriating white movies, like replacing Rocky with Creed. “I know it’s unrealistic for a white man to be the heavyweight champion of the world… but couldn’t we have that? Movies are fantasy! Is it so much to ask that, in the movies, white people could still be good at sports?”

It goes on from there (and gets funnier). In reality, I’m making fun of white people who unironically cry cultural appropriation because the Little Mermaid is Black now. I’d like to do the bit with subtext, with things between the lines. Problem is, I’m a middle-aged white guy, and the second I bring up race I can feel every asshole in the room tighten. I’ve tried the bit twice now with the same result- as the bit continues, the crowd understands where I’m taking them and they relax, but I don’t want to bomb for ninety seconds just for them to finally catch up.

Since I care about the bit, I’ll have to lead off by saying I hate when white people cry about Black versions of white movies. I wouldn’t have to do that if this was the Eighties. Hell, I could even throw in a few n-words with no worries. Goddamn sensitive crowds these days, forcing me to write better material and be a better comic.

My annoyance with comics continues as well. Not all, mind you, but more than I’d like. I wrote several months ago how my patience had run out with comics who constantly complain and I can’t say dumping tobacco has helped my state of mind in that regard. A big part of the problem is that, while I try to limit my attention on social media as much as I can, I still see more than I did even a year ago. And there’s so much whining going on. My hate-favorites are, “Waah, I get booked at every club except one or two,” and, “I’m not afraid to tell the truth!” but only about things that directly affect them.

I’m also increasingly irritated by comics who suffer from, let’s say, Reverse Talent Dysmorphia. There’s always been and always will be comics who either can’t honestly evaluate their own talent or simply refuse to do so. Hell, I might be one of them. What I don’t do, however, is yell from the mountain tops how amazing I am while posting clips and material that illustrate the opposite. It could just be that I’m extra-sensitive these days, but it feels like that subculture of delusional comics is getting larger.

Thing is, being in the upper echelon of success as a comic in Sweden, it’s not like it counts for a whole lot. That is, you could be a very successful comic and it more than pays the bills, but it doesn’t mean you’re a household name. When I think of all the comics I’ve seen obtain at least a little mainstream success, there’s only one I would say managed to achieve that by latching onto more competent comics. But hey, it takes skill to successfully pull off being a Pilot Fish to someone else’s Great White. Anyway, very few of them spend any time whining on social media.

Get busy living or get busy whining, I guess. Don’t worry, the irony of blogging about whiny comics isn’t lost on me. Give me a fucking break, I’m going through withdrawal.