This weekend I was at my favorite club in the country (tied for 1st with the DC Improv) – Helium in Philadelphia. As I told the crowds this weekend, my affection for Philadelphia comedy crowds stems from their combination of East Coast intelligence and piece of shit character. They are the perfect audiences because they understand the jokes and also do not (generally) care how dark or cruel the humor, as long as it is good. And it doesn’t hurt that my album sales are always strongest at Helium (average $300 a week in album sales). But if I have learned one thing in my 14 years as a comedian it is that as soon as J-L Cauvin expects something to go well for himself in comedy, it cannot and will not. So on Thursday I loaded up my bag with a ton of my albums and hopped on Amtrak down to the city of lawyerly AIDS.
On Thursday I took the poor people Amtrak down to Philadelphia, but was greeted by new leather seats on the train (#MAGA – Make Amtrak Great Again) so the ride felt more like an upper-middle class train experience. The one show of the night went well (I was opening for Kevin Brennan, who was actually the inspiration for REM’s Shiny Happy People, Thursday-Saturday) but the crowd was not that big and they were particularly stingy in their merchandise purchasing (I think I sold 1) and then I made my way back to 30th Street Station to go back to NYC. The club does not put up features so it was cheaper for me to travel home and come back Friday than to get a hotel Thursday night – the club is located downtown so weekend hotel rates are cheap, but during “business people” days, when titans of industry get rooms to bang hookers and associates, the rates are outside the range of #ComedyMoguls.
I got home at 2 am and settled in for a refreshing 5 hours of sleep.
When I arrived back in Philly Friday around 230pm I made my 1.2 mile walk to the Hampton Inn-Convention Center from the train station. I got my hotel on hotwire.com, which is the Russian Roulette of hotel bookings and had forgotten that I was in the deluxe “2 full size beds” room. Because when you are a #ComedyMogul you don’t sleep in the same bed twice.*
*Sarcasm – the 2 full size bed choice is always the cheapest and most annoying option
Before the Friday shows I made my way to The Cheesecake Factory for a nutritious dinner of salmon and broccoli and a basket of black bread (why does Cheesecake even offer the crusty white baguette when the black bread is basically dunking on the white bread like Shaq on Chris Dudley?). I skipped the cheesecake because I knew this would not be my last trip over the weekend. #RestraintMogul
The shows were really good Friday, but sales remained awful. And then I had to have an annoying interaction with some annoying older South Jersey type woman. Here is the conversation that happened:
Kevin Brennan: Hey J-L do you have the square app? (yes) She wants a t-shirt so you give me the money and then ring her up on your app (no problem)
*This actually meant that my sales of the first show would be -55 cents #ComedyMogul
Woman hands me her card and I swipe it.
J-L: (holds phone) OK – please sign here
J-L (still in friendly sales mode hoping people buy his albums): If you can just sign here…
Woman: (with attitude) OKaaaaaaaaaaay
Woman makes effort to sign.
Woman: (dismissive hand gesture) It’s not working.
J-L holds phone and holds it for her (doing nothing else). She waves her finger to demonstrate that it is not working, except it is working and her signature is just a dismissive line from her shitty finger. She says something else annoying.
J-L: I could really do without the attitude.
Woman: (thinking she is funny) Hey, you know where you are!
Woman then leans over and mumbles a question about my album.
J-L (still in friendly sales mode): I’m sorry? (did not hear her)
Woman: (holds up hands in surrender gesture) I come in peace.
Her weak, emasculated husband tried to engage me in conversation, but I just sort of nodded and said little. Then I think the woman said that her husband shouldn’t buy my stuff because I am not nice. Nothing could embody my comedy career more in 2017 than this: do favor for woman buying merch from a different comedian, get C U Next Tuesday attitude from the beginning, then misunderstood being polite as being a giant rude man and then her trashing me to her cuck husband – ALL WHILE STANDING IN FRONT OF MY MERCH WHILE THE AUDIENCE LEFT THE SHOW BLOCKED FROM SEEING MY ALBUMS.
Saturday was the peak of the trip. Went to the Cheesecake Factory for a late lunch and got cheesecake (what kind of POS goes to TCF back to back and doesn’t have cheesecake either time?). Chose the pumpkin cheesecake because at 1040 calories per slice it is one of the lowest calorie options. #DisciplinedMogul Went to Mass as St John The Evangelist (which is also the name of my home Church in NYC – #BrandLoyalty) and then crushed both sets Saturday night. Had a fan drive from Delaware for the show (Thanks Zeke – a member of The Black Guy Who Tips fan base), but that buried a sadder note about fan support at the end of 14 years in comedy:
- performed at Helium a total of 9 times since 2011 (1 corporate gig, 2 independently booked shows, 6 feature weeks)
- my single highest week of merch sales occurred at Helium $410 in 2014 (out of the feature spot – and no gimmicks or t-shirts like a non-Boss!), almost every year my highest merch sales week is at Helium
- recorded an album there (Too Big To Fail)
- 2017: 6 shows – 1 fan
I am not blaming anyone or even pissed – it just becomes a reality that no matter how good you are or how hard you work, minus kingmakers or fame, people will eventually lose interest when it doesn’t look like anyone or any accepted marker of success is co-signing your work… even if you expand your platforms, produce a new album on average every 2.5 years and stay engaged on social media.
I checked out of my hotel at 1015 am, giving me close to 9 hours to kill as a homeless comedian in Philly. I opted to see Thor:Ragnarok (I give it a B: it’s fun, light and features way too much stupid Hulk and not enough leather clad, evil-hot Cate Blanchett. But in all honesty the Marvel movie universe is basically doing to film what Trump is doing to America). I then spent 2 hours reading The New Yorker (I was able to make it through almost an entire half of an article in those 2 hours) in a Starbucks, just to let all of Philadelphia know that I am better than them. Here is a fun new clip from the weekend:
Sunday night I was opening for Judy Gold who is 6’2,” and gay making us the most progressive front court in comedy history. The set went well and then I ended up on the Accela train back to NYC after the show with Judy Gold. It is part of my new book “Travel Like a Headliner, Live Like an Open Mic-er.” And with me was a ton of albums… minus ten.
With the Republican National Convention over and Cleveland still standing, national attention now shifts to Philadelphia, PA where the Democrats will hold their convention. While the Democrats lack the star power of Scott Baio and Antonio Sabatao Jr., they will still bring some pretty heavy hitters to the Convention in the prime time hours. Now other than watching what the speakers have to say, the only other place you should be looking during the Convention (besides my Twitter account @JLCauvin) is Donald J Trump’s account. Well, thanks to Wikileaks I am able to share some of the pre-written tweets The Donald has locked and loaded for the 4 nights (be advised some of these are offensive):
Monday: Bernie Sanders and Michelle Obama
“@RealDonald Trump Crazy Bernie clearly doesn’t like Crooked Hillary. Pathetic! His supporters should come to me. Be great!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Crazy Bernie is so full of lies, but he’s crazy so I feel bad for him. Needs assisted living!”
“@RealDonaldTrump The politically correct police are so pathetic. Now they are letting Leslie Jones talk! Not funny!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Michelle Obama wants kids to eat fruit and drink water. So poor! My kids drink the tears of immigrant laborers”
Tuesday: Bill Clinton and the mothers of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland & Michael Brown
“@RealDonaldTrump Bill Clinton – liar, rapist, murderer – one of the worst presidents of all time. Pathetic!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Rapin’ Bill now raping the truth. The American people won’t be fooled. We will win!”
“@RealDonaldTrump If Trayvon Martin respected law and order he would not have been attacked by George Zimmerman #BlueLivesMatter”
“@RealDonaldTrump So what if George Z wasn’t a cop? He has a gun and wanted to be a cop. Great guy! #BlueLivesMatter”
“@RealDonaldTrump Shame on the Democrats for taking these poor women and exploiting them. I will be great for black women!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Our law enforcement deserve better than this. We need more police and better moms! #BlueLivesMatter”
Wednesday: Barack Obama and Joe Biden
“@RealDonaldTrump I wonder who Plagarisin’ Joe stole this speech from. Melania would be a much better VP. Hot!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Joe Biden lost his son last year. All of mine are alive. Pro-life is the best!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Barack Obama would be the biggest liar of all time if Crooked Hillary were not still alive. Someone should see about that.”
“@RealDonaldTrump Barack Obama did nothing for black people. I will be the greatest president for blacks ever. Even better than Lincoln!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Barack Obama destroyed our country. I will make it great again. Believe me!”
“@RealDonaldTrump RT @WhitePowerParty “After a monkey president, we can’t have a bitch president. No more animals in the WHITE House #Trump2016″”
Thursday: Chelsea Clinton and Hillary Clinton
“@RealDonaldTrump: Chelsea Clinton is a 4 on her best day. Ivanka is a 10. Great lips, breasts and legs. And her voice is seductive. Great lady!”
“@RealDonaldTrump: How sad to have a rapist father and a crooked mother. Amazing she has not killed herself. But still, not as hot as Ivanka on Ivanka’s worst day”
“@RealDonaldTrump Why is Crooked Hillary shouting? Screaming and shrill. NOT PRESIDENTIAL!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Crooked Hillary has told more lies tonight than even Lyin’ Ted. BAD!”
“@RealDonaldTrump Worst convention ever. No stars. No people. Just politicians and blacks. We are going to make America great again.”
In 1987 I was eight years old and Appetite for Destruction came out. My first introduction to the best rock album of all time (in my opinion), or at least the best in my lifetime was my brother arriving with the single (for my young readers that was like an iTunes song but played on vinyl, not ironically or to be cool because you think it “sounds better,” but because that was the option available) for Sweet Child O’ Mine. I mostly laughed because he kept trying to sing along, but did not know the words. Of course once I started seeing videos for Welcome to the Jungle, Sweet Child O’ Mine and Paradise City I became a huge fan. I managed to purchase Appetite for Destruction right under my Dad’s nose, who as a well meaning, but misguided and strict immigrant parent, often took PG movie ratings too seriously (“It says parental guidance – I am your parent.”) and missed the Parental Advisory sticker on AFD. Much to my surprise as I hit song #2 on AFD, curse words happened (“so fu*king easy” on It’s So Easy) and I was a little startled, but the music sounded so good I quickly got over that. By the time I was a 7th grader GnR had released 4 albums and were clearly destined for status somewhere near the Rolling Stones. And then Axl Rose went Axl Rose and it all disappeared. I was too young and broke for the use Your Illusion Tour in 1991-92 so basically my last chance to see the original GnR in concert was a quarter of a century ago. I discussed on my podcast before the rumors of the Not in this Lifetime Tour began that a GnR show was a bucket list for me. And then, as if I was Knockin on Heaven’s Door, my bucket list chance fell like November Rain (sorry)! I bought 2 tickets to Philly when I thought I couldn’t get tickets to their NY/NJ show – but then they added a second NY/NJ show – so I will be headed to that next week. But this Philadelphia show is the special one. Short story – I would give it an A+, To compare it to virginity (since it was my first GnR concert) it was like losing your virginity to your favorite porn star, while she tells you she had never had better and decides to quit the business because she wants to marry you and have kids with you, while putting her Harvard M.D. to good use to give medical care to poor children, but only when you are not home. In other words – great! Here are more specifics:
Travelling to Philly – The Daly Show
I took Amtrak down with my girlfriend and it pretty much resembled this scene from Step Brothers:
When I arrived in Philly I saw my buddy Jim from law school. I knew he was going from social media, but had not thought to ask “Hey will you be on the 12:54pm train from NYC?” with the show at 8:30pm. My gf and I went to our hotel – the Doubletree and as we walked in (not a joke) Sweet Child O’ Mine was playing. I then ate multiple Doubletree cookies and we headed to the nearby Cheesecake Factory to try and get diabetes so that the concert could become a literal bucket list event.
At about 7pm we hopped on the train to the concert venue and when we got off the train we ran into… Jim from law school. We walked to the venue where Jim parted ways to have some beverages with his buddies and I went to the gift shop to make my girlfriend buy me a t-shirt (#ComedyMogul handles train, hotel and tickets, but inside the arena it’s time to earn your keep).
As the show as about to begin (probably an hour between opening act and GnR, which was within the bounds of reason – the only thing more notoriously late than CP time is WAR (W. Axl Rose) time) I get a text from… Jim from law school, indicating he can see me – his tickets were basically directly behind me in a higher section of the stadium (obviously the financial difference between us two Georgetown Law grads is that my comedy earnings of $45.51 per week allow me the finer things in life). Other than sweating like Striker at the end of Airplane! it was pleasant enough waiting for the greatness to begin.
The show was great. How great? The band performed one song off of The Spaghetti Incident (McKagen’s cover of New Rose (sounded great) and four off of Chinese Democracy (none of which were my favorite two – Street of Dreams and Prostitute – FYI – hate on that album all you want, but it showcased that Axl was still a great song writer – and with the original band lending themselves to those 2008 songs they sounded damn good live) and the show was still an A+. I am pretty sure to get Axl to commit they had to let him do at least 4 songs off of Chinese Democracy (an ego thing – like these are the songs I did by myself but they count). It is an easy thing to agree to though. Axl is like Phil Jackson – he is demanding to run the triangle offense – but as long as he brings Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen (his voice and name recognition) to the table you are content to let him believe that everything he does is genius.
They opened with some deep voiced Axl songs (It’s So Easy and Mr. Brownstown), probably to warm Axl up because when he hit Welcome to the Jungle a few songs later, all doubts about his range and power were put to rest. When the band did Double Talkin’ Jive, a song I actually didn’t like, I was mesmerized by Slash’s 3 minute solo. And Axl takes too much heat for putting on weight. He is a little more burley, but who looks the same at 25 and 55? And Slash has old man A-cup man nips, but no one is ripping him?! Only Duff McKagen looks like a statuesque rock God (seriously – dude is in his fifties and is a tower of lean muscle – in his bio he talks about how he got into martial arts and running to get out of alcoholism – he then was an early investor in (I think) Starbucks and Amazon (he is a Seattle guy) so basically fu*k him! But Slash and Axl are holding down the Dad bods to make up for Duff’s stubborn commitment to healthy living.
The GnR set ran over two hours and delivered everything I could want except for the lack of Patience (and if they did Patience I would have screamed for the acoustic version of You’re Crazy). If I had to rank any one song as the highlight it was, surprisingly, Civil War. I always liked the song, but the live version was beyond incredible. The only time I frowned was when I would look at the girl next to me recording herself dancing. I understand taking pictures or even recording a little bit of video – but this girl was almost pretending to dance to capture a video of herself dancing at a concert. It was “peak millennial” (the caption was probably “Feeling so #Blessed that all I can do is dance to this amazing song by Whitesnake).
Back to the main event – Axl’s vocals are there. Slash’s guitar playing is mesmerizing. Despite the crowd looking like a white power rally (I counted by the end of the night – 11 Indian/Asian people, 6.5 black people (including me) and 400,900 white people, with approximately 1.7 million tattoos among them. It looked like a Comic Con for people whose favorite comic is Donald Trump: 2016. But the concert, which concluded beautifully with Paradise City, was everything I wanted and hoped for and more. For more photos (not that many, but some) – check out jlcomedy on Instagram. Now I have my GnR experience locked away forever, in case they suck in NJ and then break up forever.
For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free! And look for J-L’s new stand up album ISRAELI TORTOISE in August 2016.
Last week (Wednesday thru Saturday) I was performing at one of my two favorite clubs in America: Helium in Philadelphia (the other being the DC Improv, where I will be performing Feb 26th-28th). The problem was I had to commute all week because I am working a day job and there is no hotel for features at Helium so it is more economically feasible for me to use Amtrak points to commute each day than to get a hotel. I referred to myself as “the Joe Biden of comedy” on stage 4 times – it killed once, got some applause twice and bombed once (Biden famously, or not so famously according to 75% of crowds in Philly, commuted on Amtrak every day back to Delaware from DC to be with his family). What followed was the most successful merch haul of my comedy career and the most exhausting week of comedy of my life. For those not lucky enough to be in attendance here is the recap:
Run out of work at 4:25 – get on the A train to Penn Station to catch a 5:10 Amtrak to Philly. The single scariest experience of my life on the NYC subway occurred (even scarier than when a 400 lb black woman tries to squeeze into a seat space made for an anorexic dwarf and more scary than the time on my 7th birthday when I got on the 1 train without my mother and had to be comforted by a nice Latin lady, which may explain my life long affinity for Latin women). The train was fairly crowded and then at West 4th Street a man with no shirt on, with the build of Tommy Hearns who may have been high on bath salts (not kidding). I have never been on a subway so quiet because this guy was yelling at the top of his lungs (thankfully to no one in particular) the following (just examples, not a full transcript):
- Don’t you fu*king look at me
- You think I am a fu*king ni*ger?
- If I had a knife I would fu*king slash you (especially scary because there has been a rash of slashings on the NYC subway in the last month)
- Does this train stop at 59th street? (Ok, this one is a lie)
When I say yelling I mean Samuel L Jackson “I hope they burn in hell” times 10 yelling. As I sat there I said to myself “don’t look at him and only get physical if he attacks you or a hot chick sitting near you.” He moved to another car at 14th street, but that was the longest 80 seconds of my entire life. And with that fun start to the week it was time for Philly comedy!
Nothing too interesting to say about the show other than the fact that I killed, sold CDs and avoided Shake Shack next door. Also it was my second time opening for Bob Marley (New England comedian, not a hologram of the dead guy with one good song – I am a huge fan of Could You Be Loved), who is a funny guy, really nice and should absolutely be cast as Bill Burr’s nice older brother on a sitcom.
I got home around 12:30 am and fell asleep quickly after setting my alarm for 6 am.
I woke up Thursday at 6 and took Cookie (my dog) out for her morning piss. I then made it to work at 8 am, allowing me to get my 8 billable hours in before going to Amtrak again.
There were no homicidal maniacs on the train on my way to Penn Station or Philly (unless I have some inner demons that have not yet surfaced). The show went great and I sold a lot of CDs. It was at this time that all the comedy pundits began to realize something special might be happening in Philadelphia.
My personal record for merch in a week is $410 – 6 shows in Philly in 2013 I sold that amount of albums ($10 per album or all 3 that I bring for $20). Well after good sales Wednesday and Thursday the experts began to wonder if this could be the week I break my own modern day record for CD sales by a middle act (these are unofficial stats). I just told myself to take it one show at a time and not to worry about the week. Went home same way and when I walked in Cookie did not even greet me, presumably because she already thinks she has a deadbeat dad and because she likes my girlfriend more than me and that is who she was getting quality time with in my absence.
When I got to the club on Friday, both shows were sold out and I made a killing after the first show. I also had a guy come up to me and tell me he liked my appearances on The Adam Carolla Show (now the key is to turn my media presence into people who intentionally come to see me perform, not just get pleasantly surprised). The record looked to be in my sights. But like any no-hitter in baseball – you cannot talk or think about it or you can jinx it. Well, as it turns out the second show started 30 minutes late which meant I would have not be able to sell merch because I had to catch the last train to NYC at 12:10 am. So I left the club and walked to 30th street station and found out that my train was 40 minutes delayed. So now I had missed my chance to sell and had to sit in majestic 30th Street Station with just a pack of peanut M & Ms and some docile homeless dudes until my train arrived.
Now with all attention firmly fixed on me as I entered the last day with a chance to pass $410 (at this point it was the comedy equivalent of DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak – and just so you know, t-shirts and other non-CD/DVD items are like the juiced ball era of merch sales. I am trying to be Hank Aaron, not Barry Bonds #Purist #Hero). I had some good and bad omens. On the good side there was a third show added on Saturday at midnight. Not that I expected to stay to sell after that, but it meant I would have to stay for the first two shows, both of which were sold out, since my only transportation option was a 2:20 am Greyhound. But a bad omen occurred also. My train to Philly was at 5, but my Fresh Direct order, which was supposed to arrive between 1 and 3, was severely delayed due to computer error and would not arrive until 5 at the earliest. So I had to cancel my food order, meaning that Sunday I might not be able to eat, unless I walked two blocks to a local supermarket. But like any great athlete or performer, I blocked out this stress and just focused on having great shows.
I killed with the first crowd and sold a ton of albums and had several repeat fans come up to me saying that they had seen me before and were happy to see me opening (once again, 2016 is the year of the intentional fan support, instead of the accidental). In fact, my total stood at $340 going into the second show. I went to Shake Shack next door to Helium to take my mind off the historic accomplishment awaiting me and order a burger. A woman in the kitchen came up to me and said “You really killed it the other night at Helium.” I said thank you and she then told the cashier to punch in a code that gave me $3 off of my burger. I then headed back to Helium with the swagger of Steph Curry playing a WNBA team knowing that it was not a matter of if, but when I would break the $410 barrier.
The second show went great and I pushed the total to $450. Confetti came down from the ceiling and I got a call from President Obama. I then had a good show on the third show despite being in a sleep deprived semi coma. I left the club and made a 1.2 mile walk to the Greyhound bus station, which, surprisingly was fairly clean and did not have the feeling of a Taliban or Crips meeting place like many bus stations around America. When I boarded my bus at 2:15 am I realized I was on a bus that President Trump might actually drone strike. It was a few black people, 377 Mexicans and 220 Asians. I heard almost no English spoken and realized that this Greyhound bus was basically the 2016 Underground Railroad or a Latin/Asian re-boot of Mad Max: Fury Road.
The bus arrived ten minutes early in NYC and I made my way home for a restful night of sleep, probably already awash in the Zika virus from that bus ride, but also swimming in cash like Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal. All in all a net gain.
Last night was a perfect storm of comedy, sports and the the thing that those two forms of entertainment have served me steadily over the years, disappointment.
At 7 pm I was on stage at Comix as the warm up comedian for 12 Angry Mascots, a fun show that features stand up, sketch comedy and interviews with comedians and local pro athletes. Last night featured the New York Jets’ Darrelle Revis and the Duke Alum/NY Knicks’ Chris Duhon. Of course my Jets fan friends (including one who wears a Revis jersey every Sunday), my Duke alum friends and NY Knicks fan friends did not make the show, which moves them ever closer to my prognostication that my friends will one day accept an invitation to be gang raped if the only other option left to them is to attend one of my shows (noted for my Michael Jordan-esque Emmy acceptance speech sometime in the next decade). Sh*theads.
When I went backstage before the show I saw something that was bizarre at the backstage of a comedy show, attractive women. Like attractive flies to athletic sh*t, nice looking women just find out where athletes are, even if it takes them to, yikes, comedy clubs. It dawned on me that for pro athletes like Revis and Duhon, they probably have to actively decide NOT to get laid when they go out for a night. You know, the way a comic has to decide whether to buy a chocolate milk and walk home from an open mic or save the money for Metro card money and have a pleasant bus ride home. Same sort of thing.
So I did my set to warm up the crowd. I have not emceed a real show in a while and I had forgotten how cold a crowd can be when you get out there. Material went over well – my targets were LeBron James’ oldness (Morgan Freeman going to play him as a high school senior in a biopic), racism in baseball and President Obama (per usual). I was pretty happy with it, but there was no time to gloat or see if I could hang with Revis because it was off to Philadelphia for a show at the world famous comedy venue, JD McGillicuddys.
As I got on my Amtrak I saw that AJ Burnett had staked a 4-0 lead to the Angels. I furiously munched peanut M&Ms and listen to the angriest Jordin Sparks song I could find on my iPod in response.
I arrived at JD McGillicuddys in plenty of time before my set so I enjoyed some ice waters and watched the Yankees make an awesome 7th inning comeback. Fortunately, before I lost my semi-depressed delivery the Yanks gave the lead back to the Angels. Showtime.
Did about 25 minutes where almost everything worked (including some new bits about yelling at people in elevators and the first prison rapist), but I have never blindsided a crowd more than with a new bit that is simply called “The Terminator.” Might need some tweaking, but it sort of veers from Greg Giraldo (my favorite comedian and the type I hope to be some day, minus the stint in rehab) into more Jim Norton (comic I really like, but who is a little to the dirty/blue side of me, but who sort of inspired me to take some darker chances with my material). Then after the set I watched Nick Swisher pop out with the bases loaded I binge drank two beers.
The night ended with the comics crashing at Luke Cunningham’s mother’s house (because comedy, once again, is not rock and roll or professional athletics, which did not stop me from trashing the guest room). I thought about sleeping in the train station for the night, just so I could truthfully include a The Pursuit of Happyness moment in my biopic, but opted against it. We all got a solid 4 hours sleep before catching the 7:07 am SEPTA/NJ Transit train from Philly to NY, also known as the “My fu-king spouse insists we live in Philly, even though I work in New York” express.
All in all a very fun trip. And it was a reminder that I could turn more of a profit if I were a homeless man who alowed frat guys to kick him in the nuts for $20 a pop.
Next week I will have a big show in NYC Tuesday or Wednesday (unknown yet) and then I am in Boston October 30-31st headlining Tommy’s Comedy Lounge – hope you can make it.