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This weekend I was in DC to emcee some shows for Sebastian Maniscalco, which meant, per my usual DC arrangements, rooming with my 5 year old nephew for the weekend.  He has been pretty cool about me cramping his bachelor lifestyle in the past and this weekend was no different.  Of course arriving at home at 1am each night and then waking up to a fully alert nephew at 615am each morning to discuss soccer and/or dinosaurs (my nephew’s two favorite topics, though showing him highlights of Vince Carter on YouTube may have given my nephew a new interest to supplant his Carmelo Anthony/JR Smith fan club membership) is not ideal, but so be it.  My younger nephew’s motto is “I do more before 9 am than my lazy, underachieving uncle does all day.”  My older nephew, who is up even earlier on a consistent basis, which is why the two ‘phews don’t share a room, has been described as Mel Kiper Jr. as having a “great motor.”  I feel like Shaq the Buick salesman trying to keep up with two Russell Westbrooks.

On Saturday I went to watch the younger nephew play soccer where he has been dominating (they instituted a rule, based on his dominance, that if you score two goals you then need to go to defense). However, I was meeting my brother at the game and I arrived before him, which was a real wake up call.  Like most adult males I have a hard time coming to grips that I am a grown up.  I am 33 years old, but it still feels like an insult when people call me “sir.”  My brain keeps telling me that I am just out of college and still a young buck, but the fatigue under my eyes and expanded waist line tell me I am a man.  But it is a true rude awakening when you arrive at a park by yourself and are watching a bunch of 5 year olds that you don’t know play soccer.  That is when it hits you, through a series of curious stares from parents, that you are in fact an adult man.  Thankfully my nephew arrived shortly thereafter and I stopped handing out Second Mile Charity fliers.

My nephew dropped a hat trick, including a coast-to-coast third goal after being placed on defense (I particularly liked it when he said “fu*k your rules losers” or that might have just been me yelling that).  I am now searching for whoever the youth soccer equivalent of Bela Karolyi is so I can get this kid to maximize his potential.  His initials are JLC and it is high time a JLC bring pride to our family, instead of shame.

But the main point of the visit to DC, other than to buy discounted cigarettes for my mother (I assume at some point Mayor Bloomberg is going to make me a poster child for a crackdown on people circumventing the NYC cigarette taxes), was to host shows at the DC Improv. I was opening for Sebastian Maniscalco.  It was a really fun week.  The crowds were great and I was really surprised by Sebastian.  I had watched a couple of clips on line before working with him, but in a way that really underscored how important the live show is to stand-up comedy, even though the live show is starting to become just part of a comedian’s package instead of the major selling point, Sebastian’s live show was fantastic in a way YouTube clips cannot capture.  One of my great aversions is when someone tells me that I need to develop my character.  I always want to say, “my character is that I am a funny person with good, original material.”  But watching Sebastian was cool because he has a definitive character on stage, but it works hand in hand with the material, rather than trumping it.  With the help of a buddy who came by and watched one of the Friday shows we determined that Sebastian was a combo of Boardwalk Empire’s Gyp Rosetti and Brian Regan.

So the comedy was great this week.  My sets went great, the feature, Francisco Ramos, did great, and Sebastian crushed each show.  Both guys were cool to chat with and it was nice to see crowds appreciating different sensibilities all on one show (but DC always has some of the best crowds in the country).  Made me feel happy to be doing live comedy.

Now the good news – my calendar is empty of road work until July 18th.  So do the right thing and get tickets to my CD recording in NYC on May 18th HERE.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

I am writing this from aboard Amtrak headed down to DC to host a series of shows at the DC Improv.  Friday through Sunday I will be emceeing for Sebastian Maniscalco, but more importantly I am emceeing the DC Improv’s 10th annual “Funniest College” competition, in which students from different colleges in the Maryland-DC-Virginia area will compete for various prizes and the right to have their school dubbed “DC’s funniest college.”  What you may not know is that I was named the winner on behalf of Georgetown in the very first year of this competition in 2004.  Much like when a championship team arrives for an anniversary celebration at an arena (e.g. the 1973 Knicks were at Madison Square Garden recently commemorating the 40th anniversary of the Knicks’ last title and their status as professional sports’ most overrated franchise), I will return to the DC Improv to inspire a series of students that they too can have a career of ups and downs over the next decade that will lead them right back to the starting point of their careers.   But what makes me a pioneer, worthy of sharing a headline with Jackie Robinson on the weekend that the much hyped biopic about him is released?  It is because I won, despite not being a college student.

I was a law student when the competition was announced, but much like a giant racial and body weight combination of Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson I decided to not take no for an answer (actually I was approved almost immediately under a broad “student attending a college/university” interpretation of the rules).  And much like Robinson I faced adversity – enduring the heckling, the jeering, the lack of laughter for many of the other comedians was very emotionally taxing, but I went out, dominated and won, just a year into my comedy career, which was about a 11 month, two week advantage over most of the other contestants.  The title was covered for the Georgetown Law newspaper and still remains the first and last time I accomplished anything that made Georgetown/Georgetown Law proud.

So tonight I will be in DC performing for adoring fans and then much like Robinson, will be forced to stay with a local family that agreed to let me board with them (my brother and his family, including my 5 year old nephew who is still baffled by the concept, the desire and the existence of a career in stand up comedy, which I reassure him – no a career in comedy does not exist – like dry land in Waterworld it is a myth).

So if you are not around DC to watch me deliver historic comedy then feel free to watch this week’s review of 42 (up a day early).  It is a fairly bad movie so I advise you to just watch the 7 minute review, which highlights the 42 horrible issues with the film, because it will give you a lot more enjoyment than the actual film, unless you are 11 years old, serving consecutive life sentences in prison or severely stupid.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

With the NFL Draft arriving soon, some inspiration from this week’s great NYC-NY Yankees themed Righteous Prick Podcast episode, and my ever increasing admiration for the lack of civility and manners on the NYC subway I have decided to reveal another combine that is testing a unique and incredible set of skills: the NYC-MTA Subway Combine.  You may be saying, “the NYC Subway has never had a great reputation,” and that is true, but it used to have character, much like its home city.  Stabbings, muggings, graffiti, etc. were horrible, but at least you knew when danger was coming.  Now, in the NYC with way too many 7-11s, where gelato crazes were replaced by cupcake crazes, which are now being replaced by burger crazes, the danger has been replaced by a three-headed monster of rudeness, nuisance and lack of self-awareness.  So, with that cheerful preamble I now present to you the talented, diverse and awful competitors showcasing their skills at making your commute and travel irritating.

1. The 11 Foot Dash.  This is probably the single most scrutinized event of the combine.  It values several things:

• how quickly can you get to an open seat
• how quickly you can get to an open seat when you are waiting for the train and you have to penetrate a wall of rush hour customers trying to get off of the train (scouts really like to see that special athlete-asshole who can get to the open seat before even two people have exited the train)
• in a part people often forget, how quickly you exit the train, making sure you are first out, even if you have nowhere to go

Asian women tend to dominate this category because of their slight and quick statute, as well as a willingness to head quickly into danger and crowds because their cultures do not value the individual.  The best time ever in this even is 0.7 seconds from train door opening to sitting by 91 year old Chinese woman Li (an athlete of her stature only goes by one name).

2. The Create a Seat Event.  This is an event that measures strength and lack of awareness of one’s own size.  Most of the new subways fit 3-4 people in between poles, depending on which side of the pole you sit.  This event tests how well an athlete/moron fits themselves into a seat space that clearly cannot accommodate them.   This event measures hip strength and mental toughness – two things crucial to being an effective NYC Subway rider.  This event tends to have strong showings from larger black women, including Miss Stevens, a woman from the Bronx who once squeezed her 277 pounds into a seat space that officials at the MTA claimed could only have fit a malnourished 6 year old.

3. The Rush Hour Text Exit.  This event tests dexterity of hands and rudeness of behavior.  The event usually takes place at 515 pm at either Times Square or Grand Central Station and as the train starts pulling into a station the athlete/rude tool begins to text messages (despite not having a signal) and does not look up as the train doors open to a sea of people 8 rows deep. The official measurement is how many characters without mistake can be typed before reaching the street level. This involves quick hands and fingers, ability to walk on even ground and stairs without looking up and a willful ignorance that you are making dozens if not hundreds of other commutes slower.  Manhattan’s Upper East Side is often producing athletes that crush this event, with  Alyssa Lara Gold typing over 657 characters last year to set the combine record.

4. The Backpack Swing. This event tests lower back strength and ability to inflict damage on other Subway riders.  This competition is often dominated by men, usually Caucasian men who are mysteriously in camping garb in Manhattan or by Mexican laborers who need to pack for 3 jobs each day.  A solid athlete/moron in this event simply leaves his backpack on, no matter how crowded the train and occasionally nudges and bumps other passengers.  What the scouts from the MTA look for here is the next level – the guy who swings around crushing other passengers and then gives looks in their direction like they need to watch where they are going.

5. Ear Tolerance.  This is the event that measures how loud someone can listen to music in their headphones.  This event is often dominated by teenagers from the South Bronx and Washington Heights.  Too often their ears peak at 16 and never reach the same capacity for eardrum destruction again.  There are four different levels MTA scouts assign, with the first being least enticing and the last being most enticing:

• Can vaguely hear music if you are sitting near the person
• Can clearly distinguish the beat
• Can clearly distinguish the lyrics
• Can clearly understand the beat and lyrics even though you have never heard the song they are listening to

16 year old Debbie Sanchez is rumored to have had the entire 4 train singing along to Mumford and Sons at Mt Eden Avenue in the Bronx, despite the fact that no one had ever heard of them before she started playing her iPod that legendary day back in 2012.

6. Full Body Pole Lean.  This event is for the person who does not care if you have no where to hold on to during the ride and does not mind the feel of cold steel running up the crack of their ass.  Men of all races tend to dominate this field because their height tends to allow for near complete pole coverage.  One competitor/asshole named Michael Murphy from Park Slope once spent an entire day off from work reading a Proust collection while leaning on the F train pole for 11 hours.

7. The Loud Talk – This is a tricky event that is very unpredictable.  Past winners have ranged from intimidating black thug who is daring you to shush him, to NYU theater geek who cannot stop gushing over how funny and brilliant his Drama professor/secret coercive lover is,  to the Latin woman who is just having a normal conversation with her friend.  This requires vocal strength and a willingness to ruin everyone’s train ride.

8. Littering.  The second to last event of the combine is really almost the equivalent of the NFL’s Wonderlich Test.  The littering event tests how morally bankrupt your mind is. Athletes/sociopaths are given candy and or/cigarettes and have garbage baskets placed near them.  The person who insists on throwing garbage/wrappers on the subway tracks from the closest distance to an actual garbage can is the one who skyrockets up the MTA draft board.  In an epic performance that is combine legend, Malcolm Johnson, a 33 year old crazy person, once took a can of beer out of a garbage can and threw it on the tracks of the 1 train. He went #3 that year in the MTA draft.

9. The Box Out.  A move by heroes like the author of this piece, where you try to do the good deed and exit the train to let people off, but have to do a reverse pivot spin move to prevent people from getting on the train before you re-enter the train.  This event favors the good hearted, but fair-minded citizens of this city.  All 19 of us.  We may not put up the big numbers as others at the combine, but we are good people to have on the MTA team.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

This weekend I travelled to Hartford, CT for gigs at Brew Ha Ha Comedy Club at City Steam.  This is one of the most convenient and best set ups in the whole country.  The shows are Friday and Saturday, so one does not have to take any days off from the day job to work the club if you are in NYC. The hotel is a Holiday Inn Express, which given current comedy club accommodation standards, ranging from no room to body fluid stained comedy condo, is basically the Ritz-Carlton to a comedian.  The hotel is 400 feet from the Amtrak station and a ten minute walk from the club.

Interestingly enough, the hotel has a free breakfast, but no waffle iron, which is a big problem because as any comedian knows, the waffle iron has been the great equalizer in comedy accommodations.  “Four people were murdered here last week,” used to be what you would hear at a comedy club condo/hotel, but it now sounds a lot better as “Four people were murdered here last week, but our continental breakfast features a waffle iron.”  Like the personal computer for individuals, the waffle iron leveled the playing for hotels. The Econo Lodge closed the gap with the Gansevoort thanks to the waffle iron.  There is also a Subway near the hotel so that you can eat something halfway healthy for lunch and the club provides free food and a few free drinks per show for dinner.  In other words it is the perfect set up for a comedian looking to have a comfortable weekend.  When I was at the club in Summer 2012 I had three great shows and was happy as could be.  But this is 2013 and I am working on a new hour, which will set the world on fire, but as a majority of the crowds taught me this weekend, it is not for everyone.

The Friday show was the worst I had all weekend.  It still went well, but I blanked on several bits (including two of my new best) and had to retreat to some older bits to keep the flow going, which is exactly what I did not want to do.  And I felt guilty since two of my 28 nationwide fans, Jon and Laura (it was fate J-L has fans J and L) were at the show and I had promised newer material.  They still thought it went well, which was probably them being nice.  But most people greeted me nicely, except for a group of girls who sprinted past me, well sprinted might be generous – they waddled in a frightened manner away from me.  The only really awkward thing about City Steam (aside from the fact that half of the ceiling over the stage is too low for me to stand under) is that merch sales for features is at a narrow corner right next to the stairwell, which creates a gauntlet for audience members to pass through.  I shook many hands and was told “good show” by a lot of people.  I sold very little and got the awkward exchange that would become the theme of the weekend.

An elderly couple walked up to me and said, “Very funny stuff, but I just don’t believe that you are half-black.”  I have not figured out the right way to react to this.  I literally spend 5 minutes of my set recalling the unique experience of being half black, but generally looking white (or at least not-half black, even if some other ethnicity).  Now perhaps comedy audiences no longer believe they are getting humorous truth on stage anymore because of all the geeks and act out-specialists that comprise comedy now (of course the audiences all believed the headliners Mad Lib-esque bits where he simply placed me into interchangeable stories of smoking weed on the road, even though we met for the first time 2 hours before the show – THOSE were all believable to the audience as they kept asking me about our “tour.”).  But do people think anymore?  There are only two possibilities to the statement/question about my ethnicity – either you are calling me a liar or a panderer or you are saying my parent’s’marriage is a fraud (it is full of hostility, but it is not a fraud).

Saturday I recounted the story on stage to some laughter (mostly from the 10% non-white crowd members) on the early show.  Then after the show a guy came up to me and here is the exchange:

“You don’t look half-black.”

“I know.  That is what the bit was about.”

“Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“Well, really funny stuff man.” (he said this sort of nervously because the look in my eye was probably that of a half-Black Panther)

See the problem with the material I am working on is that it is not for everyone by definition.  Speaking of all the subtle and not so subtle racist things I still experience and observe to audiences where half the people could be guilty of some of the experiences I recount is not a recipe to winning a whole crowd.  But instead of laughing or not laughing the mirror has to be turned on me instead of on themselves.  Because if I am making up my race for material then the jokes have no relevance or meaning.

As if this was not enough of an annoyance, there is also the “your wife is being uncomfortably flirty with me right in front of you dude” scenario.  After the first show Saturday, which was my second best set of the weekend, but my lowest audience response, a woman came up to me gushing and not removing eye contact for a good 15 seconds.  I did the thing I always do in these cases which is shake her hand and then immediately engage her husband with a hand shake and a “thank you.”  But this guy who was a pretty big guy in his own right gripped my hand and he had some serious paws.  They weren’t longer but his hands were very thick and engulfed mine.  I can palm a basketball, but this guy felt like he could deflate a basketball with his hand.  Then he said, “not very big hands for a big guy!”  I replied like a court jester, “Well that is why I am telling jokes instead of playing in the NBA!”  What I wanted to say was “You know what they say – mediocre hands, mediocre cock, but that does not seem to be stopping your wife from wanting to ride on it.”

This is the joy of my career until I can draw my own audience – people either question my race without thinking of how weird/offensive it is or they need to drag me off of my high horse of feature work in cities like Hartford.  Either someone is telling you that their friend is really funny too, so you know that they know you are not special or they get into a pissing contest because their wife or girlfriend enjoyed the show.  The headliner is accorded a decent level of respect (not always, but odds are better), but the middle is the best place to deposit your issues for any audience members.  And don’t worry I also got a hearty helping over the first two shows of “pretty good,” the worst compliment in entertainment.

But there is a happy ending to this story.  I banged that guy’s wife.  Just kidding.  No, the final show was fantastic.  The average age of the late crowd was 30 instead of “Do Not Resuscitate” and they appreciated the new material.  And even though no one bought merch after I received no “pretty good”‘s, and no “are you really half-black”‘s.  It was nice to end on a high note.

And then like a horror movie, where you think all is well but a horrific thing happens at the last minute, as I was leaving, and standing right next to the emcee, a woman walked by, in front of the emcee and 4 feet from me (hard to miss – my action comedy movie biopic title) and said to her, “You were the best one.”

Well played Comedy.  Well played.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

Over the last couple of years in comedy, with the rise of social media, there have been many hints and tips on how to accelerate your career using the new forms of communication.  “Communicate with fans!” “Create a relationship with fans!”  “Be Louis CK!”  Other than “content creation” there are no other things I hear more in comedy right now to make it.  Unfortunately, I feel like all this advice and expertise sharing is moot.  Like the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle (not really a Breaking Bad reference, but feel free to think of Walter White as you read this), which states that you cannot know the position and momentum of something at the same time, all this advice about social media and outreach is outdated as soon as it is identifiable.  Once ten comics have made money and success from a given strategy (Dane Cook – MySpace, Rob Delaney – Twitter, George Lopez – Latino people with terrible senses of humor), everyone adopts the technique and then collectively saturate the market with it.  And no on discusses the side effects or unintended consequences of all this outreach!  Sure, for the upper echelon of comedians in stature and money, they still call the shots, but I recently mowed three fans’ lawns just to get them to listen to my free weekly podcast.  Telling jokes, providing free content and travelling around the country is not quite enough these days.  Now, this is not to say that the advice of communicating with fans is useless, but at some point too much communication, outreach and heavy petting can lead to an awkward blurring of the line between fan and friend, which has given rise to a new breed of people thriving in the new media world of comedy: “Frans.”

Frans can come in three varieties: one is the fan that crosses too quickly into friend territory and starts sharing too much personal information. The second Fran is a friend that believes because they have been to three shows in 8 years and has heard of Louis CK that they are now well equipped to critique and modify your act.  The final Fran is very common to comedians – the token Fran – the friend who has claimed to be a fan for a long time and turns out is really neither.

TYPE 1 FRAN

This Fran starts as an eager fan and can engage you on various topics – sports, movies, comedy and it all stays solid.  If it stays there you have a great fan, social media has worked and you should reward them with merch or comp tickets or recreational drugs.  But Type 1 Fran-ness can start with a personal question  or an inquiry for advice on a personal matter, which then puts the comedian in a position that I hate in all aspects of life (I have used this example before on sharing cable bills).  If you engage on a personal level, then you have just turned the fan into a Fran.  However, if you pull the “slow down,” or “that is not my department” then you may lose the fan entirely when they feel like, justifiably or more likely unjustifiably, like a used up Steubenville high school student who was only there to have his or her funny bone  tickeled while they were passed out in what they thought was a friendship blackout.  In other words, there is no safe middle ground – you are either uncomfortable or an asshole.  I once had a fan tell me “can’t you act like a person?!” during an exchange and all I could think was, “I’m not a person! I’m a comedian!!”

The way to nip this in the bud, in my opinion is to have a firm boundary.  Mine is either the second pregnancy or the third restraining order, whichever comes first.  That is when I tell a fan, “Hey, you have crept in the the Fran zone!”

TYPE 2 FRAN

This is the person that started out as a friend and then, thanks to lots of interactions with you and your comedy on social media, began to feel a little bit like Luke Walton. What I mean by that is when Luke Walton arrived on the Shaq-Kobe Lakers he probably was in awe of their talent and very respectful.  But after 4 or 5 seasons of VIP treatment at clubs, championship rings, Luke Walton probably started offering Shaw free throw tips and trying to compete for chicks with Kobe at the club.  Similarly, if your friends become immersed in your comedy world on social media and on the Internet what may start out as a respectful, deferential relationship to the work you have put in to your comedy and the talent you have cultivated, but then all of a sudden your friend goes from Flavor Flav, just offering spontaneous bursts of encouragement to P Diddy – attempting to one-up your status updates on Facebook, critiquing all aspects of things you do and then slyly throwing in comments like “WE know what funny is.”  Since when did you go from my Luke Walton to my Scottie Pippen?

The way to nip this in the bud is to go out to a big dinner with them and at some point during the dinner do this to them:

TYPE 3 FRAN

This is the friend who claims to always support your comedy and then after a few years you realize, no you don’t! And then you realize, we aren’t even really friends!  And finally, that is when you tell your parents you are moving out.

The cure for this is easy – do not get into comedy. If you respect your parents and family at all you won’t make them choose between loving you and respecting you.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

The big sports story of the most recent 24 hour news cycle, now that we have gotten tired of looking at broken shin bones that morons posted on social media, is the abusive tirade of fired Rutgers basketball coach Mike Rice.  In clips filmed at Rutgers practice he is seen kicking players, shoving players, throwing basketballs at players and at one point calling a player a “fag*ot.”  I played college basketball and never witnessed more than a coach grabbing a point guard by the shoulders or the back of a neck and sternly reiterating a point.  Curses were occasionally used (at which point my coach might then blame the team for making him cuss, which was sort of funny if you were the guy at the end of the bench working on impressions of the coaching staff), but NEVER any slurs of any kind.  In fact the closest I ever got to hearing a slur in my entire time playing basketball was when my uncle would sometimes call me a “Mary” if I was not playing tough enough in my Church league games in junior high.

If you missed Coach Mike Rice’s horrible impression of Alec Baldwin in Glenngary Glen Ross here it is:

I remember when I started at Williams College I was a fairly liberal (arts) user of the “f word.”  I never really though about what it meant, but if pressed I could have told you it was for a “gay guy.”  Williams had a gay/queer pride week, most of which I never paid attention to, except during that week each year there would be chalkings around campus that I found offensive.  Things like “Jesus sucked dick,” or “Mary ate pussy” (along with admittedly unoffensive comments regarding homosexuality) would be scrawled on campus walkways and I always thought “what purpose does that serve?”  But the college’s consistent actions of openess and inclusion (only highlighted by that week) clearly had an effect on me after four years.

I don’t know when the transformation from user of homophobic slurs, to finding them offensive occurred, but I remember the day I realized it.  I was sitting with some friends from high school during my first year of law school and one of them called someone a “fag.”  It was not meant as a matter of fact, but just as a way of calling the person stupid or having less than manly tastes in something.  I immediately said “come on man – don’t use that word” and received a backlash ranging from curiosity if I was gay to hostility at my “stupid liberal arts college” for making me too soft.  10 years later I am sure my friends’ sensibilities have changed either due to changes in heart or simply changed because of public sentiment, but I hear a lot less “fags” then I used to from my friends.  And this is not to say that once in a blue moon my old vocabulary does not crop up in my head, but I do not say it because when my sensitivity fails me I at least have a brain that tells me it is not right, even if at the moment I don’t feel that way.

However, from music and comedy to sports the F word still sturs up controversy whenever someone becomes offended by the usage of it.  The “I didn’t mean it towards a gay person,” excuse is often invoked.  Of course the unspoken part of that excuse is “I just meant it to mean shitty or stupid or weak,” which carries with it the implication that being gay has an automatic negativity associated with it. (I have come up with a new subsititute anyway – cu*t)

Now I am not here to be the next spokesman for the Human Rights Campaign.  After all I am a Catholic who has no real problem with the Church limiting marriage to heterosexual couples.  Maybe in 20 or 40 yars, or even now, that will make me a prejudiced person in some eyes.  But I also believe that civil marriage and the associated rights that the state gives to married people should be accorded to all people, gay and straight – and this represents a changed opinion of mine over time.

But the idea that slurs can still be used just because you did not directly mean it towards the usual target of the slur should not be a viable anymore.  As a half black man who appears Caucasion, or at least not black,  most of the year (look out August tan) I hear a lot of comments ranging from stereotypes to slurs against and about black people to my face or in my presence when people do not realize someone with a black father is standing near them.  Now had these people known I was half-black would most of them had made the comments? Probably not.  Does that make it OK then?  That had they been mentally prepared to exhibit better manners they would have never offended me?  In the same way, the coach of Rutgers may not have a gay player on his team.  And perhaps if he did and knew it he would have tempered his language (though perhaps not – which would make this at least more intellectually interesting, if not less or more offensive).  But so what if there are no gay players on the Rutgers basketball team – is this an appropriate way for a coach or leader, especially at a public university to conduct himself?

I don’t really have too much of a problem with the physical and verbal machismo the coach was displaying, though if I were a parent of one of those players I might say my son is a basketball player, not a member of the cast of Full Metal Jacket.  But what if there is a gay player on Rutgers – or at another college hearing the same slurs from his coach, a man who is supposed to be a leader and entrusted by the school and that player’s family with guiding the young man through a transitional point in his life.  Is hearing that stuff going to make the student-athlete feel comfortable on his team?  Perhaps his teammates do not mean anything cruel by just letting the coach’s comments go by without reply, but perhaps a 19 year old college student might feel alienated on his team and interpret their silence as condoning the sentiment behind the slur.  And the coach who made a dream come true by giving the student a scholarship as a reward for all his hard work and training is now someone who feels betrayed.  Why would a gay student athlete want to risk asking his coach or teammates if they really are OK with calling gay people “fag*ots?” On the upside he has outed himself, perhaps before he wants to, but find out his team and coach are ok and just meant it as a word and they promise not to again.  On the down side what is the worst that can happen? A lot.  But instead the burden is placed on the people judging the usage of a word to lighten up because “it was not meant that way.”

So the coach has been fired and I am OK with that.  I would have also been OK if he were given an opportunity to make amends and learn from the error of his ways, if only as a reflection of how quickly our society has moved on the issue of gay rights and sensitivity to those associated issues.  But the apology and defense of the F word needs to stop.  It is a slur.  Now if you use it in a comedy act or in a story or whatever else I am OK with that, but the whole idea of the perpetrator of a slur being the one who gets to define it has to stop.

There has been a rumor going around that an active NFL player will come out of the closet.  I think this would be a brave thing to do and an important thing at the same time.   Of course when at a football game I have heard N bombs and F bombs thrown around and it may not make a difference to that player now or in the future if the comments are meant to question his sexuality or merely his toughness.  But I just hope one thing – I hope that if the player comes out he is not a punter or a kicker because gay or straight those guys are not very tough.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

Fresh off winning MVP in the World Baseball Classic, Robinson Cano has made a blockbuster move changing management from Scott Boras, baseball’s super agent, to Roc Nation, an entertainment agency affiliated with rapper Jay Z, that is getting into sports management.  The immediate concern here is that the last high profile rapper to enter the sports management game was Master P, who got Ricky Williams to sign a horrible contract with the New Orleans Saints.  That contract was almost entirely incentive based, which was quite fair, and also quite stupid when no one else in the league was as bound to incentives as Williams.  Williams then went on to become a weird, marijuana loving dude who occasionally played football at a high (and proficient) level.

But rest assured, Jay Z is no Master P.  Master P was actually a decent basketball player.  Besides Jay Z claims that he made the Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee, which apparently impressed Cano enough to make a horrible business decision, much to the chagrin of Derek Jeter, who believed he had made the Yankee hat more famous than Jay Z.  Typically an agent’s job is to make you more famous in your field, not to claim that he is bigger than you in your chosen field, but that is why Jay Z is great and surely about to change the game!

Jay Z has announced that he intends to become a certified agent, while Cano is now officially certifiable.

Cano has said, in the last year of his contract with the Yankees and surely heading towards a big payday as one of baseball’s superstars, that he wants to take a more active role in his endeavors on and off the field.  This should be music to the ears of all 30 major league baseball teams.  What would you rather do – sign an athlete going into a huge contract who is singularly focused on his craft, or a guy who is looking to open up all off the field endeavors?  Like Dwight Howard, but with a less marketable smile, smaller shoulders and a thick Dominican accent!  This movie roles and championship rings are practically writing and minting themselves!

As a former lawyer, former athlete and current entertainer to dozens of people nationwide, I have put my skill set to work and come up with the list of career choices and opportunities that Agent Z will most likely be developing for client Cano. Enjoy:

1. Cano will be encouraged to sign with the Brooklyn Dodgers.  After all, if Jackie Robinson listened to Jay Z, according to all the commercials for 42, then why woudln’t Jay Z send his first big client back to Brooklyn!
2. Cano will record a new Salsa album on Jay Z’s new Latin label Yay-Z records. It will go plantain.
3. After Deron Williams suffers a knee injury, Jay Z will encourage Cano and the Brooklyn Nets to a agree to a 3 year, $10 million dollar deal to play point guard.
4. Jay Z will secure a 50% discount off of all merchandise at the Barclays Center Fan Store for Cano
5. In Cano’s contract he will have exclusive naming rights for Beyonce’s second child.
6. Cano will re-sign with the Yankees only if Jay Z’s Empire State of Mind replaces New York, New York.  That is if Brooklyn does not sign him first.
7. Cano’s contract will stipulate that Cano will never be brought up to any Nas’ songs, nor will Nas ever be played at Yankee Stadium.
8. Stipulated in Cano’s new contract is that all Yankee hats must be worn slightly to the side and must, at all times, have a New Era sticker on the brim.
9. Jay Z will receive a modest 45% of all of Cano’s earnings.
10. Cano will be featured on Jay Z’s new album cover called The Blueprint 46: How To Ruin Athletes.

Cano can be expected to have career lows in batting average, RBI and focus starting in 2014.  At which point he will start negotiating with Justin Timberlake’s new management company.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes

I am writing this from the kitchen area of the Madison Heights, Michigan Days Inn.  It is the logical ending place for the journey I just completed to Detroit for a weekend (Thurs-Sat) of gigs.  Readers of this blog or my tweets know that I am an avid Amtrak user and will take it from NYC to Boston or DC for a humane and traditional usage of the rail service.  However I have also logged train trips of 30 hours (New Orleans to NYC), 20 hours (Chicago to NYC) and other similar journeys when I want to save money on road gigs at the expense of my sleep and sanity.

This weekend I am at Mark Ridley’s Comedy Castle in Royal Oak, Michigan and it is a gig that requires me to save money at every turn (starting with bringing a bagged lunch/dinner onto the train).  So I booked Amtrak to Detroit (which is a 16 hour train ride to Toledo and a 1 hour Amtrak bus to Detroit – yes they have buses and if you are taller than 5’11” you basically have to sit side saddle to fit into their tiny seats), booked a room for three nights at the aforementioned  Days Inn, which met my criteria on hotels.com of “under $50/night while giving me at least a 75% chance of not being a victim of a violent crime,” and booked a cheap flight back home on Spirit Airlines which, based on an informal poll of friends’ Facebook statuses, is rated as a “piece of sh*t.”  To put it simply it was a borderline miracle to be in the black for this gig (financially, not a reference to Detroit’s population), but I am and now profits will be directly tied to how much merchandise I push over the next three nights.  But that is for Monday’s blog.  This one is about the 17 hours of Amtrak that are now seared into my memory, since I only slept 17 minutes of the trip.

For those of you who have not taken Amtrak long distances (the kinds of distances that one usually flies to), imagine a Noah’s Arc of society’s saddest members:

• We will need two (hundred) obese of every race and gender;
• We need at least two (dozen) people who look like they are avoiding TSA scrutiny, but not because they are ardent civil libertarians
• We need two (thousand) people who hate wearing shoes in public
• In J-L’s car we will need two Honey Boo Boos

Yes, you read that last part correctly.  The Lake Shore Limited – Amtrak #49 had all the usual things I listed.  In addition there were funny little things like the woman sitting in front of me watching bootleg DVDs of movies that are on basic cable right now and the old woman who did not lock the bathroom door (but gave me the dirty look like I wanted to see her ancient body squatting), but the worst aspect to the trip was something unique to this trip (at least for me), which I listed last in the bullet points – a pair of 8 year old Honey Boo Boo-esque twins and their assorted siblings.  Here is a list of their offenses with mitigating circumstances when I discovered them:

• Walked up to the woman watching bootleg DVDs and kept asking her to play with the DVD player
• Walked up to me and asked me for M & Ms that I was eating.  I said no.
• Started playing with my computer mouse pad at 1 am while I was watching episode 7 of Downton Abbey Season 3.
• Asked if she could sit next to me and watch something else on my computer.  I said no in a nice way for a change claiming that I only had “boring grown up stuff.”  Then I started playing my digital copy of Toy Story 3 in front of her just so she knew that I DON’T ANSWER TO 8 YEAR OLDS!
• I notice the twins both have hearing aids, which momentarily made me feel bad.  I then got over it.
• I discover that there are a total of seven kids, which belong to two women, who may be friends or more likely sisters, or even more likely half-sisters.  Both women appeared to be slow.  Like not “full retard” to quote Tropic Thunder, but the kind of slow that the Supreme Court would not allow them to be executed for murder convictions.  Let that sink in women – these two cannot stop from getting knocked up and will not stop even though at least five of the children appeared special in one or multiple ways.
• At 4 am the younger brother of the twins kept asking me my name.  I declined to provide that information to him.
• At 430 am the same younger brother hugged the train conductor planting his face squarely in the cock region of the conductor.  My camera phone would not focus quickly enough for a picture.

I had confused feelings about these kids and women, but it is part of a theory I have.  Not all handicapped people are good people.  We just assume they are, but some of them have to be jerks and rude, just by playing the odds.  These kids were not evil and they had problems, but they were also without any manners or sense of propriety (perhaps a Downton Abbey marathon of all of Season 3 was the wrong show to make me forgiving of their poor manners).  All I knew was that these women should not have had 7 kids between the two them, as evidenced by the fact that almost all of them seemed sort of fu*ked up.  Add in poor manners and a willingness to talk to strangers without any care or reprimand from their moms and I think we have January – July 2014 milk carton models in the waiting.

I finally arrived in Toledo and took the Amtrak bus to Detroit and am now at the Days Inn outside of Detroit.  But my room is not ready and will not be for a few hours so I am writing this post in a semi-coma waiting to get into a room that costs as much as a blu ray disc per night.  Friday and Saturday shows at Mark Ridley’s will be great, but tonight will definitely be the wild card.  It reminds me of  the John Malkovich line in In The Line of Fire told to Clint Eastwood’s character, “Do you have any idea what I have done for God and country Frank?? Some pretty horrible fu*king things!”  Replace God and country with comedy and money and you know how I feel.  Especially knowing that that family on the train is much closer to a television development deal than me.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes.

As I get set to celebrate/mourn a full decade performing stand up comedy it dawned on me that a majority of the posts I write concerning comedy have a somewhat negative or cynical spin.  Sure there are problems and issues with the art, as well as the business of stand up comedy, but I have certainly learned and experienced some very positive things.  Comedy has allowed me to see so many parts of America (and they are all obese).  I have heard racist comments in the deep south as well as the shallow northeast.  In other words, a career in comedy has allowed me to have a rich and fulfilling experience learning about the human condition in America.  It has also given me great insights into how, instead of just being mean and cynical to newer comics, my experience and observations of how comedy has changed in the last decade could provide guidance to those new comics.  So that they can become more successful and avoid the bitterness and cynicism that has sometimes stifled me, here are some of my suggestions for people just starting out in comedy or thinking about trying stand up (or maybe even some veterans), because after all: ANYONE CAN DO IT!

1.  Put “Comedian” in front of your name and as your occupation on all social media.  In other professions you have to earn your title, or at least exhibit some shame in calling yourself something you have not quite earned (like that look on a podiatrist’s face when he demands that you to call him or her “doctor.”  Well, comedy doesn’t work like that.  Simply claim the title after that first open mic and never let it go.  You don’t even need to earn laughs, let alone money, to call yourself a comedian.  And by putting it in your Facebook name you announce to the world that you are in fact a comedian.  Like they did not know already!

2.  Refer to your schedule of shows as a “Tour.”  A tour used to mean a sponsored series of events or at least a series of events similar in their significance or theme that calling them a tour seemed to mean something.  I might be inclined to refer to my mish mash of performances as a schedule or at least call the section of my website “live calendar,” but in this day and age a schedule is something you put on Microsoft Outlook.  You are a comedian! It says so on your Facebook name – so act like a rock star performer and call your list of shows a tour.  People will respect you more.  Even if that tour takes you to the basement of a taco restaurant.

3.  Tweet and Facebook “Up”.  Try to re-tweet and #FF as many people above you as possible.  And be sure to like the statuses of anyone significantly higher than you in the social media realm.  These more successful and/or famous people like being treated well and will recognize you for it.  And remember, every set that someone with more momentum than you does should result in either a  “you killed”, “you crushed” or “fu*king brilliant!” compliment from you.

4.  Refer to the right comics. A corollary to number 3 is to make sure you know who to praise, who not to praise. Easy examples to start you on your way: Louis CK – the best and  Dane Cook – the worst.  You will look like an asshole who has no idea what is going on in comedy if you veer to sharply from the boundaries that have been set by the comedy community.

5.  Do long sets as soon as possible.  I had a comedian (said so on his Facebook name) tell me he had been doing comedy for a very short time but was already doing 30 and 40 minute sets.  YES!  This is what it takes people.  Having 30 minutes is easy – if you can speak confidently for thirty minutes, can find a space anywhere in America with a microphone and someone willing to let you do it, then voila! You have thirty minutes of material!  Why wait – you may already be ready!

6. Start a web series.  Things may not be completely blowing up in stand up in your first 5 months (and you already have a podcast and a blog) so it is probably time to diversify your funny portfolio. Start doing a web series.  Nothing will make you a better comedian than by producing non-stand up comedy content.

7.  After one year, begin lecturing other performers and sharing what you have learned.  Once you have been doing stand up for one year, it is time to start sharing your knowledge with other comics.  Snort and chuckle when newer comedians say things that seem arrogant and remind them that you have been on the road and know what this business is really like (even one road gig qualifies you as an expert).  However, if you are talking to a comedian with significantly more experience, be sure to show them deference by saying “you know how it is” after complaining to a 12 year veteran how upset you are that your career is stalled after 19 days.  And speaking of the road…

8.  Never do the road.  Not only is the road not a really viable career path at this point except for the independently wealthy or established headliners, but it is not really what you should be about.  Working the road will help you get a good 30-45 minutes over time, whereas staying where you are will be good for networking and creating a ten minute set that your favorite neighborhood hangout will enjoy.

9.  Record an album as soon as you can and sell it for $5.  I defer to comedian Andy Sandford’s Facebook advice to young comedians, which sort of inspired me to give my advice column to young comedians:

hey, if you’ve been doin comedy for 6 months and have 45 minutes of untrimmed quasi-material that no one wants to hear…you need to record and release your own album on itunes ASAP, before you progress and hate the material. In the past, record labels kept artists like yerself down by having standards. Well the future is now, and you can sell direct to fans just like Louis CK, who you are most likely imitating

10. Create a Character.  Your voice and opinions, God willing, will never fully develop because within a few years you should be in development for television projects and never have to do stand up again.  However, in case you are not quite on that track, develop a character – make your voice sound different, be different, even if the thoughts expressed through your material are not.  Greg Giraldo is dead.  Pee Wee Herman is alive – which one would you rather be?

Good luck on your comedy adventure young comedian!

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on Podomatic or iTunes.

My 4th album, and what surely will be my best, is being recorded at The Stand on April 25th and tickets are now available here – http://thestand.laughstub.com/show.cfm?id=237534&cart.  Use the code “JLCOMEDY” (all caps) for a discounted ticket (only $10 and the club has no drink minimum) if you buy this month (March).  The Stand was just picked by New York Magazine as the best comedy club in NYC for 2013.  And my Mom reads that magazine so I trust it.  Without spoiling any of the bits of the CD – it will continue where my last album Too Big To Fail left off – me complaining about the direction of our society and how we constantly pat ourselves on the back for what we believe in progress.  Racism, gay rights, pornography, charity and white chicks will be some of the major topics on the album.  These may not seem like revolutionary topics for comedy, but I think you will find my take on the subjects to be original and relatively unexplored.  Unless someone starts stealing my sh*t in the next month.

I plan on this being my last album for a while at least, if not ever (at least self-produced).  So don’t miss it.  Or at least if you do miss it, mail a copy of it to someone in South Africa so when I am 60 years old I can be like the dude in Searching For Sugarman.  I hope to have it out sometime during the Summer.

And to clear up the title I was never abused so the title does not allude to any trauma in my life, unless you consider my comedy career.   So please spread the word, buy tickets now and laugh and drink your asses off on the 25th of April (preferably at my show and not somewhere else).  Thanks.

#JoyOfAbuse