Blog

Taking a break from what one comic has deemed my “Erin Brockovitch” phase of comedy (the movement to boycott open calls and bringer shows has not gained any traction, but I am sure a Facebook group would gain thousands of apathetic members) I have decided to offer some recommendations to people that waste their time reading this  .

1) Go see This Is It.  if you like great music, concert films, Michael Jackson and/or molesting children all of you can find something enjoyable in this movie.  It really is outstanding and fun.

2) Root for the Yankees.  The Phillies represent a city that could not even medal at the “Best Cities in the Northeast” Olympics.  I can’t wait for the Yankees to buy Cliff Lee.

3) Go get Greg Giraldo’s CD “Midlife Vices.” In the spirit of the forthcoming A Christmas Carol, it is like a look at the Ghost of J-L’s Christmas Future.  It is a powerhouse of comedy.

4) Go see me if you are in Boston.  I am headlining Tommy’s Comedy Lounge Friday at 830 pm and Saturday (Halloween) at 730 pm.  I will be delivering the best sets of my life, which when I find out I can no longer perform at most NY Comedy Clubs I will release the Boston performances on a special DVD entitled “This Is It,” which fans of great comedy, comedy films, J-L Cauvin and molesting children will appreciate.

Have a nice weekend.

I’m Mad As hell… And Will Probably Take It Some More

In what is becoming a tiresome ritual for even my mother to read about, last week I suffered another mild indignity at a comedy club.  But this new one both angered me and perplexed me in equal measure and forced me to take a step back and look more globally at comedy.  I wish I could say I’m mad as hell and not going to take it anymore, but I love comedy (the performance and writing aspects) and know that I will endure the accompanying bullsh*t long after it is sensible to (are we there yet?).

It was the line outside for New York Funniest Comedian, a fraudulent open call to all comics in New York.  Now most comics of any established reputation in NYC that wanted to compete called the club ahead of time and got a specific call time.  This is allowed for a couple of reasons: comics that the club likes or respects (or are affiliated or managed with people the club respects) should not have to waste their time and/or suffer the indignity of waiting on line for hours to do two minutes of material.  The other reason is that the club already knows who they want to put forward into the competition at least 99% of the time.

I chose not to call ahead because some self-righteous aspect of my personality wanted to be rejected from the line.  I know that subconsciously I enjoy enduring the hypocrisy and lies of this business in some sort of self-righteous self-indulgence, even if it just for me and a few loyal readers (if Hunter S Thompson was a gonzo journalist, so maybe I have a future career as a depresso-journalist).  So I waited on line for four and a half hours outside of Caroline’s on Broadway as I watched comic after comic that could be considered in my peer group in the business walk in for their “audition,” which, I learned later,  just amounted to saying hello to the booker and being put on the list of those that are actually being considered for a spot in the semi-finals (taking place tonight and tomorrow night).

Well after waiting all that time I was spotted at the front of the line by a Caroline’s employee and was told, “Oh, J-L, you can go down (to audition right away).” I felt a little guilty, but that guilt was assuaged by the rationalization that I had waited the exact same amount of time as the rest of the comedy proletariat.  When I got downstairs I went inside and was not required to do any stand up whatsoever.  I was just told that I would be on one of the semi-finals shows on Tuesday or Wednesday.  I left sort of relieved, but sort of disgusted.  I had friends (or at least friendly acquaintances) waiting on line upstairs, with literally no chance at making it, no matter how good their audition.  But we will get back to the story a bit later.

Believe (Almost) No One

“______ is looking for new talent to bring into the club for paid work.  ________ will be watching these shows so definitely sign up.”

This was an excerpt from an e-mail I received about 6 months ago.  I did one of these shows, a bringer (aka the crack cocaine of the comedy world where you are required to bring friends, family, co-workers) as a warm up for a television audition.  I was well beyond the delusion that had plaguedme for years that anything career changing would happen from this bringer, but I wanted to do a show that would help me prepare for the audition.  Well after the show, unsolicited, I received a glowing review from “______”.

So in a moment of temporary insanity I emailed that club’s booker and was told, “We like you, but right now we have too many comics for the spots open.” I accepted that as truthful words from people who had been nice to me for many years.  However, kind words can best be summarized by Al Capone from the film The Untouchables: “You can get a lot further with a kind word and a gun, than you can with just a kind word.” In other words young comics, the only nice words you should fully trust from a manager or booker are “here’s you money.”   This is not saying they are all liars or lie all the time, but to preserve your feelings in a business rife with disappointment, protect yourself first.

I looked on this club’s site a month after the “too many comics” e-mail and saw names on weekend shows (i.e. actually paid work, not the indentured servitude of unpaid “guest spots”) that I have never seen on those shows before.  I then checked the management/representation of those names and saw that it was the same two agencies representing a large majority of the comics booked at that club.  So while the nice answer may have eased my mind for a few weeks, the true answer, “we’re not booking you until you hook up with the right agency” or “we just don’t think you are good enough now” might have left me with a clearer plan and some dignity.  However, it also may have meant that the $10,000+ that my friends and family have given to that club over the years would have dried up.

But that is the basis of the bringer system, which feeds money to clubs and producers on a weekly basis in NYC.  You tell young comics how good they are when they suck because you know their friends are enthusiastic and will pay money to see their friend embark on a new and fun hobby.  So to get money you encourage lots of performances of shi**y comedy because you do not care about exploiting the overgrown dreams of a new comic.  I received just as many compliments from clubs when I was starting out as I do now.  I know I am good now, but I have watched early tapes and I make myself cringe.  But I could fill 3 bringers a month when I started doing comedy.  So I got filled with lots of false compliments from clubs.   Those compliments may have given me encouragement to continue and for that aspect I guess I should be thankful, but when my friend supply dried up no one came calling that “really good comic” named J-L anymore.

But don’t think that this is a club only issue.  I have been told absolutely disgusting stories about bringers run out of lesser venues where comics who are lonely or friendless or just clueless are paying relatively exorbitant money just to get on shows based on promises that, even if true, do not warrant their expenses.  Much like the U.S. Congress, once the money begins flowing in the bringer system, it creates a corrupt and result-less process.

What’s The Matter With Comics?

I read the book “What’s The Matter With Kansas” several years back and it explored why so many working class Republicans worked in favor of a party that did not have their interests at heart (or at least in practice).  I think it is the same in comedy.  Every comedian believes that they can make it.  Last Comic Standing’s last two seasons had open casting calls in NYC.  Of the many, many hundreds that lined up up outside those two years, one made it to the next round, where he was eliminated and did not even get a clip of his comedy on television.  And I believe most people in line thought everyone else was wasting their time by showing up, except for themselves.   But all you are when you show up for an open casting call is an extra in the movie “The American Entertainment Dream.”  The stars are already cast and you are just there to make the stars look more heroic for standing out of the crowd.

Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

Much like capitalism, the big villain in Michael Moore’s new film, comedy capitalism forces comics into being relatively selfish and dog eat dog.  Three years ago I had a pre-arranged audition for Last Comic Standing, meaning I was one of the many comics who bypassed the cattle call with a legit shot at getting on the show.  I did not get it, but I did not feel ashamed at the time for trying to “get mine.” And many comics would not begrudge me for doing so, but then I must begrudge myself, if one can do such a thing.  I do feel guilty about that.  At some point, like in America, I think that the “haves” of comedy must stand up for the “have nots.”  If I named the best comics in NYC in my opinion, I am sure there would be at least an 85-90% correlation with who the clubs and industry think are the best.  But to sustain the venues of those talented comedians, the comedy clubs, owners, bookers and industry place an unfair and unwarranted burden on the nobodies of comedy.  They have them line up outside of comedy clubs, not for a chance to achieve success themselves, but to artificially exalt those who are already having success.  They entice you with misleading promises and compliments so you will bring friends on a Tuesday, just so they can pay the electric bill and the rent for the “real comics” on a Saturday.  This is not about giving spots or work to lesser or newer comics; it is simply about respecting all comics as people.

People look at Goldman Sachs as emblematic of what is wrong with capitalism and how the rich get richer.  This is no less true of the comedy business.  Dreams are exploited (The American Dream of a house, car and good education versus your name in lights and artistic sacrifice paying off).  But comedy, like capitalism, has no end game except for the Bill Gates and Jerry Seinfelds of their respective arenas.   And because of that, no one speaks up because everyone is too buried in their own quest for success in the rat race to stand up and say, “Hey club or TV show – it is not okay to exploit my fellow comedians.  Even if they suck at comedy, their hope and dream is not something that you should be able to exploit.  Whether their comedy is good, great or terrible, their dream and desire is real.” No one says that. I did not say that three years ago and am not happy with myself.  I told myself last week, that no matter the result of the NY Funniest Comedian competition I would write this, because unlike a lot of my contemporaries I did stand on that line and the whole experience did not feel right.

New York’s Funniest Reject?

On Sunday I learned that I did not make the cut for the 30 semi finalists, which perplexed me and angered me.  I was fully prepared to go along with the charade and do two minutes of material, but was told not to.  Much like my status in the comedy world right now I was too qualified to audition, but not good enough to get the part.  So I had neither the satisfaction of performing, nor the gratification of advancing.  I have e-mailed politely requesting an explanation, but have not received it yet.

The names were a who’s who of up and coming comics in NYC.  Perhaps some of them were on line, but I do know that most walked right by.  I do not blame the comics for this because this is the system that dangles success carrots in front of them so that they have blinders to the exploitation of their less experienced or talented brethren. Or maybe some of them laugh and don’t care because some of those comics on line do in fact suck at comedy (possibly because they are new, possibly because they are not funny).  Who knows, but I think if asked to think about it manyestablished comics would acknowledge that it is not right, but would also shrug their shoulders and say, “what the fu-k can I do about it?”

Because the plain truth is that from bringers to cattle call lines, the clubs know deep down that barring a comedy miracle, nothing is going to happen for these people that they entice to their clubs.   So I think if I ruled the comedy world this is the short wish list I’d have for comedians:

1) Boycott bringers in 2010 (unless you are doing it with a clear head to get a good tape AND THAT’S ALL)

2) Clubs would have no more open calls.  I would have no problem with the NY Funniest Comedian competition if it was submission or invitation only – this would be honest and that is all that I think comics are entitled to.  Honesty does not guarantee any success, but it does guarantee that the comedians get to keep more of their integrity.  There is one NYC club I would like to work at eventually if I ever attain the success I hope for, simply because they’ve never lied to me.  That is it.  I was never given excessive compliments, never given excuses or half-truths and that is really all any comic should want or feel entitled to.

3) Comedy shows would book based on stand-up and not as if they were casting a cooky CBS sitcom. Otherwise I am just going to grow out a huge fro, wear glasses and not stop eating cupcakes until a heart attack or a development deal is mine. (This one is a little more selfish on my part).

I understand that comedy is a business, but I think comics need to stand up for the integrity of the business for their fellow comics.  In the 1970s comics went on strike to get paid.  That is a much more concrete demand than what I am writing about (PETC – People for The Ethical Treatment of Comics?), but integrity is still important.  I know this won’t change anything substantively (I am under no delusion that 30 comics will pull a Rudy tonight and hand in their microphones so that someone like Mick DiFlo, one of the most respected, but anonymous comics in NYC, can perform), but perhaps it will make some comics take a moment and think about what’s going on in comedy.

I know some may dismiss this as the sour grapes of an increasingly bitter comic, but I really would like to see the culture change and not just for me.  The only way I can see this helping is maybe if you know a new comic with some potential, or at least some enthusiasm you can tell them to approach the business more practically and avoid some of the things that will hurt them so that they can look at the business honestly, even if it won’t be honest with them.

I remember two very well established comedians saying to me about 4 years ago: don’t do bringers.  Just write and perform over and over again.  Like anyone young, either in life or career, I did not listen until I was knee deep in regrets.  Maybe more young comics will be wiser than me.  Maybe not.

If this is my Jerry Maguire Mission Statement then I can expect my career to go further South, but I having already had a legal career and a girlfriend with a son during my comedy career (check my 2 CDs for details), so I am in uncharted territory for Jerry Maguire. Wish me luck.

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.

I was one of the big believers that some of the intense criticism (not so much the criticism itself, but the tone and language and unwarranted passion of the criticism) of President Obama was based on race.  People spoke of the tenor of the national conversation becoming increasingly hostile and aggressive.  Well, fortunately football fans in Pittsburgh do need the nuance of political arguments because they are more than happy to simply blurt out rude and offensive slurs.  Let me take you on a tour of this past Sunday’s Pittsburgh Steelers vs. Cleveland Browns game.

As I walked to Heinz field with my brother we observed several classy t-shirts. “Baltimore sucks, Cleveland swallows” was one such shirt that was clearly debasing the national conversation on football and city supremacy.  Another shirt, however, caught our attention.  It simply said “Burn the Brownies.”  We joked to each other that there could be a not-so-subtle racial tone to that shirt. 

Everything seemed pretty normal walking to the stadium.  Fat men in Steelerjerseys mocked other fat men wearing Cleveland Browns jerseys.  My brother andI were actually quite surprised at the absence of homophobic slurs that usually abound at professional sporting events.  Maybe this would be an extra classy day at Heinz Field.

After we took our seats we were quickly joined by three men in our row.  They were all approximately 6’1, 220 lbs of high school football and college drinking weight.  They looked like they were about 22 years old.  They spoke like they were from the antebellum south, both in content and accent.  Here is what happened.

Sidenote- Can anyone explain to me how trailer parker/redneck is a uniform accent throughout the country?  I have met trailer parkers/rednecks from places as different as Alabama, Colorado and Michigan, but they all seem to have the identical twang. Weird.

1st Quarter

Comment one from Billy Bob (that is what I will call their ring leader) came at the expense of a black man wearing a Browns jersey.  Billy Bob yelled at this man, (loud enough for close by people to hear, but not loud enough for the man to actually hear) “Sit down Brownie, and I don’t just mean your jersey.” I gave Billy Bob the benefit of the doubt – either he had seen the former FEMA director or he was trying to be intentionally provocativefor his friends’ benefit, which as a comic I could understand a little.   Nothing to get to worked up over.

2nd Quarter

Listening to fans at a football game is generally like being at Church – don’t expect tons of logical or scientific words to be uttered.  In the former it makes sense because it is predicated on faith.  However, I am amazed at how dumb football fans can be, despite honoring it andfollowing it like it’s a religion.  In this quarter Billy Bob went to get some beers from the concession stand.  However, he was taking his “Terrible Towel,” which his buddy, Cletus, wanted to continue waving.  As soon as it was clear Billy Bob was going to throw the towel I knew it would land on my head.   Four seconds later as I sipped my hot chocolate, a terrible towel landed on my head. 

This angered my brother more than it did me, but what happened afterwards was even more awful.  Cletus, in his drunken 81 IQ way explained to me in these exact words, “Oh man, I’m sorry.  He was trying to throw the towel at me and hit you in the head.”  Oh, thanks for clarifying that for me!  I would have never known that that is what happened, except for the fact that I saw Billy Bob throw a towel and felt it land on my head.  Moron.

Then Cletus, with a chance to star as lead idiot while Billy Bob got beers, turned and spilled his entire current beer on an 11 year old kid in front of him.  Moron.

3rd Quarter

This climax of this experience occurred during this quarter.  With the Cleveland Browns running the Wildcat offense with a black player playing the quarterback (I don’t know most of their players’ names because they suck – oh correction – they swallow according to the Pittsburgh area literature) the Browns began to make some good plays.  And then, after a particularly good play, Billy Bob uttered the words that ruined my day and possibly won Eastern Pennsylvania for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic Primary against Barack Obama:

“Tackle That Nigger.”

This was one of those moments for me where time sort of stopped.  I felt like Zach Morris in Saved By The Bell where only I could speak or hear what was happening.  My thoughts were, in order:

1) I need to Tweet this (shameful, but very modern reaction)

2) Wait, did Billy Bob  just really say that?  And that loudly?

3) Why is no one looking around? Did anyone hear that?  Or are they ok with it?

4) Damn – I am sure this guy has little interaction with mixed race people, but even so, I am going to have hit up a tanning bed.  But he’d still be thinking it even if he was too embarrassed to say it.  I have had numerous experiences like this where white people have felt free to tell me all sorts of racist things because it was winter and they had no idea I was half black or half anything besides white.

5) Does Billy Bob realize that  he is wearing a Santonio Holmes jersey, who is quite black?  Or is this just emblematic of America’s tradition (diminishing, but still existent) of embracing blacks as entertainers only (even Obama had to brand himself as “cool”), while fearing, dehumanizing and/or denigrating blacks in other contexts.

My reaction was sort of dumbfounded and as I looked around, based on the composition of the immediate 5-6 rows (white, lots of rednecky accents) I did not think an argument, let alone a fight, would be advisable.  But hopefully my letter to the Steelers organization identifying the date and seat numbers will ensure that these guys have a tougher time getting into games and will have to just watch games from the Aryan Nation Father-Son Sunday Brunch.

4th Quarter

My brother and I sat with sort of a vomity look on our faces, not really enjoying the remainder of the game sitting in the KKK box. 

As I sit writing this now I am reminded that racism is alive and well in America.  However, I am just as annoyed with people who would read this, be disgusted and outraged by such overt racism, while reassuring themselves that they are not racist simply because they don’t speak the same language.  The people who did not even flinch when he said “Tackle That Nigger” are the bigger worry to me and there are a lot of them.  Perhaps I should have hit the guy or started something, but it felt like a useless reaction.  Not sure what I should have done exactly, but I wish I could of thought of something more satisfying than just “be pissed off.”

Of course all of this could have been averted if the Steelers tackling was better.

There are bad ideas and then there is what happened this past Friday night.  It was the first night of my law school reunion at Georgetown.  For the few days preceding the reunion I was told that some people thought it would be a good idea for me to perform some stand up at The Dubliner, which was the bar where the Class of 2004 happy hour/binge drinking incident was to take place.  I was extremely reluctant to do this, but when you do comedy it is a thin line between politely refusing twice and saying “NO FU-KING WAY” when you are asked a third or fourth time.  So I agreed and at 9:50 pm Eastern Daylight Time on October 16, 2009 I got on a makeshift stage and began what should now be known as the case of Cauvin & Random Comedy Fan v. South American & Eurotrash Douchebags.

9:51 I look around and see about 70 law students watching in the back waiting for me to tell jokes.  I also see 15 people speaking incessantly in the front.  I think, ‘maybe I’ll make this quick because these people may not want to be at some impromptu comedy show for Georgetown Law Alums at a random bar.’  I also think, ‘yep, this was a terrible idea.’

9:53 Too much talking up front (including soccer chants).  I say, “Hey, give me 5 minutes and I will make you laugh a little then I’ll get off the stage.” I figured being understanding to some of the patrons who did not want to be there for law school reunion/annoying jokes would appreciate it.  Instead 5 o’clock shadow South American douche yells out, “Do you want to bet?  You will not make me laugh.”  Oh crap.

9:57 Right to the Obama impression.  Law students laughing in the back, but not enough to drown out foreigners in front.  Even Obama bombs with these people.

10:01 pm – after various strange comments and people getting on stage I hop off the stage after enduring a “show” that should have never been.  Then began the fun stuff.

Random Guy (RG) – Man that was great – don’t listen to these as-holes – that Obama impression is sick

Me – Thanks, this is definitely not the venue for comedy.

5 O’clock Shadow South American Douche (SSAD) – Why do you do this?

Me – First of all, you’re a dick.  Secondly, this is not the place for comedy.

SSAD – But why would you take a microphone if you cannot do comedy?

Me – I don’t know if there is a language problem or if you don’t realize that you are a condescending prick, but my comedy is fine.  What do you do for a living?

SSAD – I do many things.

Me – Ok besides being a dick and not shaving regularly what do you do?

SSAD – I am in business.

Me – Well wouldn’t your job be rather difficult if I came in shouting at you during the entire meeting?

SSAD – But I would never do business if I could not.  You are not good at comedy.

RG – This dude is funny and you are a fu-king rude piece of sh*t.

At that point this complete stranger who appreciated my comedy actually got into about a 6 on 1 confrontation with a contingent of South American and Eurotrash dudes (and a chick) defending my comedy.  I had to step in to prevent it from becoming a fight.  So I guess just when I thought Georgetown Law had struck again and actually infected my stand up (previously immune to all the awfulness of law and law school/center-ness) with a terrible experience I was able to spark a near fight for someone willing to fight for and against my comedy.  And as it turns out the Eurotrash South American contingent were actually LLM (sort of like a Masters in Law – you know for people who have given up on giving up, as opposed to law students who have just given up on dreams and hopes and originality) alums of Georgetown so they just plain sucked.

But it was a pretty nice trip otherwise to the Law Center.  Got to see Chief Justice John Roberts give a talk during the alumni gala dinner.  I was very tempted to pull a Kanye-Taylor Swift on him (perhaps, “Earl Warren was one of the best chief justices of all time!”), but since C-Span was not covering it I figured a di-khead move without television coverage is just a di-khead move.  So law center reunion was overall good, but would shortly be overshadowed by a series of ugly incidents at Sunday’s Pittsburgh Steelers game that I attended with my brother.  To be continued tomorrow…

Technically a Law Center Reunion

This weekend is a busy weekend for me.  I’m going to the Steelers game in Pittsburgh with my brother on Sunday, which alone would make for an eventful weekend.  However, before then I will have embarked on a two day return to Georgetown University Law Center (GULC) for the 5 year Reunion.

My law school career basically began with 9/11, which I think should have been an early warning to me that I was making a wrong choice.  Half way through law school, and seriously contemplating quitting (rather than a glass half full/half empty perspective at the mid point of law school I had more of a “this glass sucks” perspective), I discovered stand up comedy.  After that law school was a breeze.  Whenever a class was boring I just took out a notebook and began writing towards whatever bar or hotel open mic I was doing that night.  Oddly enough, my grades were inversely proportional, semester to semester, to the effort I exerted academically.  That’s right kids – when in doubt; don’t try.

So now it’s time to re-visit that time, like attending a War Memorial with fellow soldiers, except slightly less traumatic.  And like old soldiers with Alzheimer’s and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I will probably look at several people whose faces I recognize, but cannot recall their names.   I will have more interesting stories than most, having two legal jobs and a new career since I graduated with dishonor, but will also be expecting most 6th year associates to pick up the lion’s share of the bar tabs.

I think the anticipated questions I will get by demographic at Reunion:

Married Men – So, how cool is stand up comedy on the road?  Cool, except when they pay me.

Married Men with kids – So do you fu-k a lot of chicks on the road? Truthfully – not at all.  (but if it’s someone I did not like in law school, “hell yeah dude – I don’t know what anybody who gets married and has kids is thinking… so how’s your family?”).

Single Men – Why aren’t you drinking more you pussy?

Married Women – So, how cool is stand up comedy on the road?

Married Women with kids – This is my son/daughter (no question – very bossy)

Single Women – Why aren’t you drinking more you pussy?

In light of President Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize I must encourage him to engage in a newer and more muscular form of international and domestic governance.

(warning – you need a working knowledge of the first two Godfather films to fully appreciate)

Afghanistan

New plan that should satisfy everyone.  After consulting my advisers (NY Times, my uncle, my mother, history books) I have come up with a plan.  Several years ago a jingoistic and bellicose colleague of mine at the Bronx DA’s Office had suggested nuking the entire Middle East because you could not reason with that part of the world (most likely save Israel, lest his parents become upset with him as a military advisor) And I thought he was nuts, primarily because invading a country that you had no business invading (Iraq) and then claiming them to be unreasonable savages when they fight back is hardly conclusive proof of a people’s inability to use diplomacy.

But Afghanistan has proven a clearer quagmire (giggity giggity) if that makes any sense.  They attacked us and we half-assed fought back because Bush and Cheney had dumber and/or greedier ideas.  My advice to Obama is simple on Afghanistan.  I believe that is the real front on terrorism and that leaving it alone will only foster another 9/11 perhaps 10 or 15 years from now.  But at the same time the corrupt leaders of Afghanistan are more than willing to talk out of both sides of their mouths, letting America fight for it, while badmouthing America and all the while not preparing and securing their country as best they can.  So my solution is simple.  We leave.  Pack up everybody.

But at that point Obama should play Vito Corleone to Hamid Karzai’s Barzini, Tataglia, Strattchi and Cunio (seriously, who the fu-k was Cunio?).  We will denounce their heroin production as a dirty business which Karzai will insist on keeping among the dark people because they are animals anyway.  But then on to more serious matters – this Bin Laden business.  Obama should just stare at Karzai chillingly and tell him we are leaving and will let them do what they want, but if any harm comes to the United States in any form; if we should be attacked by terrorists finding safe haven in Afghanistan;or if our troops are harmed in another part of the world; or if Americans are struck by a bolt of lightening then this we will not forgive.  And we will literally erase Afghanistan from the map (I’m talking nuclear), or at least blow it into the 12th century, which may actually be an improvement in some respects.   But until that day we swear on Bo Obama that we will not be the ones to break the peace.

The Senate

The Senate, except for a few members, is a group of whores and prostitutes.  They have been turned out by corporations and industries and are no better than the women who date investment bankers (I feel the crack whore stereotype needs to be updated).  Health care reform, gun control, environmental legislation and a myriad of other issues are blocked, not by the minuscule consciences of the Senators, but by their corporate pimps.  So, what the country needs now is term limits for Senators.

Someone once wrote to me that we do have term limits; they’re called elections.  Not when we have allowed money to infect and dominate every part of the process we don’t.  The longer you stay in the Senate, the more corporations want your ear because of your seniority and influence.  The corporations buy your money and then give you more money to keep it, which allows you to advertise more and gain a stronger and stronger foothold for re-election.  Your constituents gain from your seniority in the form of small pork projects so they remain pacified.  The cycle continues until you are a big, bloated fat (sometimes both literally and metaphorically) whore of a Senator.  The ironic thing about men like Ted Kennedy was that he was able to be a champion of the people because his money and legacy did not come from, or at least was not reliant on, an industry pimp.  He did not rely (though I am sure he used) the wealth of soulless companies and lobbies to get him re-elected so he had the rare luxury of actually prioritizing people over companies.

Would the NRA really be the biggest lobby if Senators could only serve 12 years?  Think of how much more would get done for people if the Senate was not a de facto lifetime appointment.

Needless to say this might require more of a Michael Corleone approach, more aggressive than the diplomatic Vito.  After all, Michael put Senator Pat Geary of Nevada in his place, so if Chris Dodd or Max Baucus wakes up in a sorority at Oregon State with a dead co-ed, I assume Joe Biden will be there to assure them that they are lucky it happened there because that’s President Obama’s Brother-in-law’s place.

Saturday Night Live

Make a call to Lorne Michaels and have Fred Armisen removed from impersonating you.  Yesterday I received a call from my brother.  My 2 1/2 year old nephew had seen a picture of Obama on the computer and said, “Uncle J-L”.  One of three things is possible:

1. My brother has shown my nephew my YouTube clip way to many times.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAyUoDEX0GE
2. Obama is leading a double life.
3. Fred Armisen needs to step aside.

I think the answer is #3.  Make the call President on all of these things.  Especially the SNL thing.  Lorne Michaels, I think you know what happened to that producer Woltz.

Last night was the final outing for my comedy team metaphorically based on baseball, but very literally based on failures and fading dreams.  We (the Philadelphia Phillies) were a strong team and here’s a quick breakdown in sports analogy form:

Philadelphia Phillies Scouting Report

J-L Cauvin – former phenom (national tv 4 years into the game), who has faded into the muck  of NYC comedy showcasing sometimes excellent, sometimes too dark, but almost always cynical or bitter humor.  30 years old and believes himself to be, in the spirit of Deacon Jones, the unofficial record holder for most bringers done in a career without getting a paid gig in return.  Is considering suing for metaphorical rape of hopes and dreams, but that might require him putting his law degree to use, which is the only thing other than seeing Fred Armisen impersonate Barack Obama, that can drive him to contemplate end of life arrangements.

Pat Breslin – emerged at the same time as Cauvin, in fact they did some early work together.  They were teammates for almost 3 years on a somewhat successful show in Hoboken, first called Comedy Without Reservations, which was then re-branded Internal Laughter, which was then killed by a wine bar.  Pat managed to show tremendous versatility working well with different crowds from Manhattan snobs to South Jersey morons.  Breslin just turned 31 and may have suffered a potentially career threatening injury recently when he got engaged.  As Cauvin proved, engagement can be quality fodder for a humor career, as long as the wedding does not actually occur.  However, Breslin’s wedding is on track to occur, which could cause his career to flourish with a wealth of new material or to end under the torn ACL of comedy careers: marital bliss/responsibility.

Jim Dodge – the veteran of the squad with 8 years of stand up under his belt and 37 years of life on Earth.  Sharp writer, sharp delivery, big presence, which have all proven apparent liabilities for Dodge in the comedy business.  He has found gold in commercial acting recently, which makes Jim the redemptive story for this team; as long as you get away from stand up comedy you can have success.

Game Recap

In Game 1 Pat went up and lost in what I would equate to a 8-3 loss.  He laughed it off and then I went up to try and get a win so that Jim would have a chance to close it out.  I then lost in a game that I would say scored 13-6, with me scoring 13 runs.  Seriously.  I blame the loss on the two tables of women in front, whose collective shrieks were able to swing the vote, which is electronically recorded on a machine which apparently is called, “the fu-k J-L-a meter.”  One was a group of black women who came during my Obama impression, but could not overcome the repeated mentions of black cock by my competitor.  Mental note – mentions of black dick trump black president, even though balck president too has a black penis.  Go figure!  The other table that swung the vote disproportionately was a group of stupid young women.   They were just stupid.  You can just tell these things sometimes.

Post Game Evaluation

So Pat, Jim and I left Carolines defeated and contemplating comedy.  These were some of the bitter, but completely factual things we discovered through a humorous 20 minute therapy session (I take responsibility for anything that may rub people the wrong way):

1. The women in front really were stupid.
2. We lost to dick jokes.
3. Bringer shows are the crack cocaine of the aspiring comedian’s life.  Except bringer shows give you a fake high.  Every comic should boycott bringer shows.  (This was not really relevant to the show we just did, but you get three veterans talking about comedy these things will come out.)  The genius of the bringer show is that you will get lied to early in your career when you are not ready because your friends will support you more frequently and the clubs know this.  So you get your friends to see you a lot, which is a waste of everybody’s time except the comedy club’s CFO.  And now you are hooked and can’t stop doing comedy, but you need those 4, 8, 10 or 15 friends to watch you, unless you just want to be doing “shows” in bar basements in front of other comics.  Now, after a few years you are getting better at comedy, but your friends are either bored, don’t care or are moving on with their lives.  But the club won’t pass you because you are not “ready” or (unsaid) not with the right agency or management company.  So you keep trying to get people, because this is the show where a booker, or manager or TV scout is attending (so the club says).  You have a good set. Or a great set.  And nothing happens.  Because all you are given are half truths or quarter truths or complete lies.  But you can’t burn a bridge. You cant insult anyone. Even if it is true.
4. So you end up doing a show in front of 45 people on a Wednesday night with two of your friends and losing to some dick jokes.   20 years of comedy experience not enough to beat off (ha) some dick jokes.  Oh well.

A recent breakdown of my finances coupled with the plate-tectonic speed of my comedy career have brought me to the conclusion that I will have to re-enter the workforce at some point towards the end of 2010.  With this dreadful idea comes several dilemmas:

1. Do I embark on a new career?  If so would that be tantamount to giving up on a comedy career if I have to revert back to serving two masters?
2. Do I just take a regular job while lying to the people looking to hire me when I should just be telling them, “Yeah, there are going to be a lot of sick and personal days in my future and a lot of bringer shows in yours.”
3. Do I dare touch the legal profession with a ten foot pole?

The solution I have come up with is so good it is as if a Hollywood screenwriter came up with it.  What I will do is move out west and take a job as a janitor at a law school in Los Angeles.  At night in between open mics at clubs, coffee shops and dog yoga studios I will write out brilliant answers to questions posed on blackboards.  This of course will not stem from my legal analysis, which is quite pedestrian, but rather, from the fact that I have already taken the classes for which I am writing answers.

I will also work on my French accent and go by an alias, like Jean-Louis.  As the law students, half of whom want to be screenwriters and actors anyway, get wind of my story I will team up with one, preferably with a Jewish name and a father and/or uncle high up at a studio to put together Good J-L Hunting.  After all, Good Will Hunting is 12 years old, which in today’s culture seems almost over-ripe for a re-make.

After the movie grosses $80 million or so, thanks in part to the casting of Matt Damon in the role of the shrink that tells me to pursue my dream, I will be able to headline clubs around the country and field many offers for movie roles.

I’m glad I am starting to think realistically about my comedy career now.  Now I just need to learn how to mop.

In keeping with today’s cultural trend I will provide some random and short quips today on television (I have been watching more because the book I am reading on Robert Oppenheimer is sort of heavy – side note – is it possible that if Mel Gibson were sober he might have meant to say “Jews End All The Wars” – based on how many were involved with creating the Atomic Bomb?):

I have seen documentaries on Rwandan genocide that made me laugh more than the debut of Saturday Night Live.  Lorne Michaels needs more black friends because maybe he is looking for their permission to fire Keenan Thompson.  That guy has taken more jobs from deserving black people than segregation and Jim Crow.

Fred Armisen does such a bad Obama impression that Secret Service should arrest him.

Bill Hader of SNL is extremely funny.  His Kieth Morrison alone almost makes watching SNL worth it.

Friday Night Lights is a great show (re-joined Netflix to catch up on some shows that I have heard are great – Breaking Bad is on the list).  So of course it has terrible ratings.   it is odd to me that a show featuring good looking young people and football could not be a success.  It is as if America is collectively saying – give us shallow things, but don’t you dare deliver them to us in anything that could be called high quality.

If Modern Family can keep up the pace from its pilot then it will be the best comedy on television not named Eastbound & Down.

I watched a 5 part mini series on Sundance called Brick City, on Corey Booker and his attempt to change Newark, NJ.  I am now working on a Corey Booker impression and once I have perfected it one of two things will happen: Corey Booker will not get re-elected and will fade into obscurity, or he will gain an even higher national profile and then Fred Armisen will do an impression of Corey Booker that is so bad, it will make his Obama look good.

The Cleveland Show was not good.

Family Guy premier was great.

Glee started strong, but I think it will fade, only bolstered by religious-like support from women and gays.

Cougar Town – see Glee, but eliminate the started strong part.  And the term Cougar is really just a brilliant re-branding of “she’s kind of old, but yeah, I’d probably fu-k her?”

I have only seen 4 episodes of Jay Leno’s show, but only Jim Norton stood out to me as exceptional.

Bored To Death, Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm provide a nice HBO Sunday night.

At 4 pm, if not at the gym or sitting at my desk staring at the wall, I prefer Ellen to Oprah.

On Saturday will be the 2 year anniversary of my appearance on Craig Ferguson (my national television debut).  Since then, based on travel expenses, web expenses and gigs I have made about -$450 dollars from comedy.   My comedy career feels like the final third of a Behind The Music special; the downfall part, but without the awesome rise and hedonism that precedes it.