Chests (and heads) swelling with uncontrollable pride, we present to you, Sub Pop's first-ever stand-alone DVD release! Recorded during David Cross's reasonably acclaimed Shut Up, You Fucking Baby! tour, Let America Laugh is a look behind the scenes of a life spent on the road being very funny. You might even call it a tour diary (just not one whose pages you read, or whose contents you guard against prying eyes; instead one which you watch on your TV or computer). It details David's interactions with fans, promoters, friends, writers, and anyone who might need the gentle beneficence of his well-earned wisdom or even, simply, a helping hand. And who better to describe, in his own special way, life on tour with David than quintessential wiseass Henry Owings of Chunklet magazine?

When asked to write something to accompany the release of David Cross' tour diary DVD, Let America Laugh, I had the sneaking suspicion that the expected finished product was to be a glad-handing, almost ass-kissing commentary. But, if there's one thing that David doesn't need, it's cheerleaders. If anything, perhaps I can shed light on the man who is more, and sometimes less, than this inflated image of the proto-indie-celebrity many people envision him to be. So, obviously, when Sub Pop offered me a box of returned Velocity Girl CDs for this thing, I jumped at the chance. I mean, come on, I'm no dummy. David Cross is to music what Sub Pop is to comedy. Wait, what I meant to say is that Sub Pop is to baseball what Bob Uecker is to comedy. So really, where does David enter into the equation?

When I originally offered my services to sell Titanica t-shirts, GloboChem coffee mugs and Pit-Pat foam trucker hats on the "Mr. Show: Hooray for America" tour last fall, I didn't realize that David would, in fact, actually participate on the tour. I thought that his schedule was overbooked with ribbon-cutting ceremonies, baby-kissing photo-ops and check-signing appointments, so I would've thought for sure he'd have a stand-in. Don't forget, this guy was in Scary Movie 2! But yes, we shared space (and occasionally a pizza) over 4 weeks across the US from the sprawling plains of Ann Arbor, Michigan to the less sprawling - yet far more plain- Eugene, Oregon.

Everybody in the cast and crew had a specified task, but by the second city on the tour - Philadelphia, to be specific - it became apparent that David's job was to find out where the after-party was going to land. And to his merit, he did his job very well considering that he had to actually wake up, put on shoes and get out of the bus at some point during the day. Although I was told that he was toning down, from my standpoint, he was the unholy bastard child of Robert Evans, One Day at a Time-era McKenzie Phillips and Keith Moon. And for that I'll toast the man by taking another swig of Robitussin. This was a man on a mission to have as much fun as possible while on the road. As evidence of this commitment, on his rider, David requires 2 liters of Pedialite for the post-show. Pedialite, for the uninitiated, is for infants who are suffering from dehydration. But, when used on adults, as David has found out over the years, 2 bottles of this magic is the physiological equivalent of shaking an Etch-a-Sketch. Drinking it before going to bed (read: passing out) makes waking up at 9 in the morning a snap, and as one of David's oldest friends John Ennis once told me, "his work never interferes with his lifestyle".

So, to get the obvious out of the way, David parties really fucking hard. But, his unbridled enthusiasm extends in other directions as well. It should come as no surprise to those who know David (known simply to his close friends as "Mr. Cross") that his passion for underground music is on par with the most enthusiastic college radio dweebs peppering this country. As a fellow Georgia boy, it made me proud to see him wear his tattered t-shirt from the 688 Club in Atlanta - a rock club that, by many, would've been considered the CBGB of the South, except the urinals had far more tobacco spat in them. During those halcyon, pre-Nevermind years, David would make the trek from the North Atlanta 'burbs, bring his police whistle and sing "M Train" along with Athens, Georgia's Pylon - who were easily the best group in the South at the time. But I digress.... Since those days, not much has changed except for his mailing address, and of course, his entertainment budget. For instance, at Amoeba in San Francisco, he had a basket of CDs that fanzine geeks (such as me) would take home for themselves. The next night, we ran into him at the Von Bondies show elsewhere in town. Other cities brought similar incidents. It was almost like we were playing some cruel game of shadow boxing. Impressive. Perhaps it's because he has lived and breathed underground culture every day of his adult life that David so effortlessly cuts into the marrow of hipsterdom. It's his incisive observations that make his instantaneous witticisms so uncanny.

So who, exactly, is David Cross? Well, as I've found out, he's the man with his finger on the pulse. He's a consummate party beast. He unironcally wore an earring for part of his life. His appetite for reading is unparalleled. He loves to meet people (especially when they're funny and/or female). He can play the drums with his elbows. He's got a strong Midwestern work ethic (especially for a Southern Jew). He had an afro in the early '80s. He was in his high school's production of West Side Story. He takes his craft damn seriously. He's a hardcore New Yorker. He's rumored to have a monster (circumsized) cock. He's not afraid to work with Canadians. He wears glasses. He loves to watch porn with pregnant women. At best, he's an average dresser. Basically, he's the living, breathing antithesis of all that Carrot Top stands for.

    - Henry

Owings, Athens, GA, Sept. 2003