The End of the Utah Jazz

This week the Utah Jazz, my favorite sports team for so many reasons (explained in a hilarious, poor audio quality mini special I recorded in Utah in February of this year), hired Will Hardy to be their next head coach.  Coach Hardy went to Williams College where he played basketball.  I also went to Williams College and practiced a lot of basketball (most of my college career was as a quad and biceps model in garbage time of games), graduating 7 years before Hardy did.  So this week started as an exciting and hopeful one, but today that hope came crashing down as the Jazz traded franchise centerpiece and 3 time Defensive Player of the Year, Rudy Gobert, to the Minnesota Timberwolves for several first round picks and some players.

People have been telling me the Jazz got a great haul. But before I dig a lot deeper – let’s examine that assertion. The T-Wolves seem to be planning on title contention and making all those picks in the mid 20s – there will be no ZIon Williamson or Jayson Tatum in the Jazz’ draft future, unless they suck all on their own (without Gobert, this Jazz team actually has 1980s Doug Moe-Denver Nuggets defensive potential).  But OK – let’s just accept for the sake of argument that Danny Ainge and the Jazz have made the decision to rebuild around Donovan Mitchell and this was a stellar haul for Gobert (in addition to the first round pick for Royce O’Neale).  Best case scenario the Jazz are title contenders in 4 years?  No guarantee of a title of course, but perhaps after they rebuild they will be even better than the best of the Gobert-Mitchell years.  But if they don’t win a title (and even if they do) it will have cost them, to quote Thanos, “everything.”

The Jazz did not just trade an all star today

I grew up in NYC so liking the Jazz was not logical and certainly not geographical.  But I was drawn to the stats in The Sporting News (you used to wait once a week for a sports newspaper that your older brother subscribed to to see stats – welcome to pre-Internet!) and underneath the name Michael Jordan every week in the scoring leaders was “Karl Malone – UTA” and above Magic Johnson on the assists column was always “John Stockton-UTA.”  This piqued my 8 year old curiosity and the way the two of them operated as a tandem was particularly enjoyable to a tall, bi-racial child whose Black father and white mother argued frequently.  From 4th grade until today (I am currently wearing a Rudy Gobert Jazz jersey) I could be found in purple or purple adjacent attire – looking like a hoops-obsessed Barney or Grimace on a weight training program.

The Malone-Stockton years were great and I don’t know one Jazz fan who would trade Malone or Stockton (*clears throat* as players – without subsequent knowledge of past and future off the court activities) for an early 90s rebuild to see if they could topple the Lakers, Celtics or Bulls.  The Jazz had relevance, high quality play and an identity thanks to Malone, Stockton and Coach Jerry Sloan.  They lost to Jordan, which delights Jazz haters, but for Jordan’s GOAT status to mean anything to Jordan fans, it requires acknowledging that Malone and Stockton are all time great players, otherwise, how does defeating them twice enhance MJ’s legacy?

After Malone and Stockton, Andrei Kirilenko and Sloan kept me interested in the Jazz.  They even won 42 games in the 2003-04 season with a starting lineup of: Carlos Arroyo, Gordon Giricek, Matt Harpring, Kirilenko and Greg Ostertag.  That is literally a squad that should tank unintentionally and instead they missed out on the playoffs by a single game, if my memory serves me correctly. Their lack of talent caught up the next year which would lead to the Deron Williams-Carlos Boozer era – a time of brief, surprising success that was shattered with the retirement of Sloan.  So the Jazz were forced into a rebuild… which they did expeditiously.  It seemed the franchise always was in a hurry to get good. To be relevant. To give their fans a product worth cheering for.  So they drafted Gordon Hayward (and made several other egregious draft errors – taking Enes Kanter and Alec Burks at 3 and 12 when Klay Thomson and Kawhi Leonard were available at 11 and 15 stands out to me) and Rudy Gobert and were back to being a 50 win team quickly after being terrible.  They could never do it via free agency, but yet they managed to do it nonetheless.  Hayward ditched the team on the precipice of being a top tier team, but then Donovan Mitchell arrived and that led us to the inchoate success of the Gobert-Mitchell era.

My shopping spree from 2022 now looks like a roadside memorial

The playoffs have been frustrating and inconsistent recently, but 15 months ago the Jazz had the best record in the league.  Mitchell is 25 and Gobert is 30.  Malone and Stockton did not reach the finals until their 12th/13th seasons.  Dirk Nowitzki, Dallas legend, lost in a finals in 2006, won and MVP the next year, but was bounced from the playoffs in Round 1 (this would be the type of shame that might have ended his time in Dallas had social media been then what is is now), but he stayed and in year 12 (I think) he won a title against the Big 3 of Miami.

But contrast that with Giannis who won a title at 25 years old last season. Had they lost on a Kevin Durant 3 pointer or lost to the Suns, their coach might have been fired and the speculation that maybe Giannis was not “that guy” would have been in full force… for a 25 year old 2x MVP. It is insanity (a hint of it was delivered to Jayson Tatum after his finals performance this year).  Like with our politics, social media has had an irredeemably and perhaps irreversible negative impact on sports. So now, the Jazz had to “blow it up” because two stars in their prime hit a rough patch.

Ring chasing is devaluing careers and the rings themselves

But to many people reading this you may be thinking “it’s a business” or “if the Jazz want to win this is how it’s done,” but being a fan used to mean more than just that.  Now you have superstars ring shopping, cheapening their careers and the value of the ring.  I have no geographic or family ties to Utah.  So the team and its culture are the only things that keep me so dedicated as a fan.  Being able to watch the development of Gobert and Mitchell is part of what endears them to fans like me. Yes, the uniform matters, but seeing their growth and talent in that uniform is an x factor that cannot be quantified merely by wins and losses.  Gobert roasted Hayward when he ditched the Jazz for the Celtics and now he has been dealt away with the same level of mercenary disloyalty.  The Jazz that won 42 games with Kirilenko and a G league roster is why I root for the Jazz.  Because, at the risk of sounding corny, doing it the “right way” still counts. Or it should.  And the fact that Rudy and Donovan might both compete for titles in the next 3-5 years leads me to ask the obvious “why not try and keep them together?” Maybe they needed their Hornacek and Sloan, instead of the franchise needing a new Malone and/or Stockton.

A good friend told me something many years ago that I reference from time to time.  He had said (this was at least 10 years ago) that with the rise of the Kardashians, monetizing everything they possibly could, young people no longer registered “selling out” as a negative. Survey responders did not even really register the concept.  And I think that mindset has really taken hold to an absurd degree.  After Hamilton made Lin Manuel Miranda 9 figures his next stop? American Express pitchman.  After Watchmen, Regina King endorsing Wells Fargo.  And a mere month after seeing Paperboi mock woke capitalism on Atlanta, I saw the actor who plays Paperboi doing a Tulsa Massacre ad for Citibank. I know people have been selling out forever, but it was not as common as it is today (American actors had to do their commercials in Asia so as to not tarnish their image). These are just the examples that popped into my head while writing this, but it seems that the ends justify the means to truly absurd degrees (all the way to a recent White House occupant that declared “They’re not here to hurt me”). A championship. Money. Power. Followers on tik tok. The list goes on and on. It is not that this is occurring that is alarming – it is that it is becoming the default expectation and not the negative exception.

So seeing the Jazz go into this mode, selling off an all time great in his prime is normal for our time. I get that. But what makes you think a bi-racial kid from NYC being a die hard Utah Jazz fan for 35 years considered “normal” his number one criterion for supporting a team?  Maybe the Jazz will get really good. Maybe they will win a title.  But it will have cost them more than just Rudy Gobert. And whatever that cost is, they can now never get it back.

Convenience Over Life

Jimmy Carter warned that the country needed to get off of fossil fuels over 4 decades ago.  Needless to say we did not listen. Or perhaps we listened and did not like what we heard because Carter was given the boot for Ronald the Baptist, who would unknowingly, but certainly, pave the way for Donald Christ.  Unfortunately, this is emblematic of modern American politics: a lethal combination of short term selfishness and long term stupidity.  And I should be clear, this is not a “both sides” argument.  I simply say “modern politics” because the reality is that the American Republican party controls our politics, not as a majority representing the will of the people, but more like the way stage 4 Lung Cancer controls the life of a longtime smoker.  And given that enough Americans seem to want to continue metaphorically smoking rather than seeking moral and political chemotherapy, we may really be in the end phase of America’s “greatness,” however you might define that.  I think that even goodness may be too high a calling for America.

Of course, while acknowledging the obvious asymmetry in what causes our political paralysis and cynicism,  this does not mean the Left is absolved.  “Do Something!” they shout and tweet after a mass shooting, but do they yell at their neighbors to “do something!” on Election Day?  Do they themselves vote and participate in the boring parts that make democracy work, or do they rely on cynicism on those days, staying home to tweet dissatisfaction?  “We must solve homelessness!” but do they support higher taxes or shelters and/or affordable housing near their properties?  “We need criminal justice reform!” but do they balk at long term policing and prosecutorial changes the first instance some crime ticks up from record lows (I added this one after the San Francisco DA was recalled)?

The problem is that even though the Right is far more responsible for the denigration of Democracy & the dysfunction of D.C., the whole country appears afflicted to some degree.

A couple of weeks ago I was driving (OK – being driven) from Philadelphia, PA to Sellersville, PA for a show. As we increased our distance from the city to the suburbs and towns I noticed, like hundreds of trips I have taken around the country, that the houses got bigger and nicer.  Without any data or even knowing the economic or political information about the specific towns I went through in Pennsylvania I can say with certainty that I have been to dozens of affordable towns over the years with houses and properties that would be 5x as expensive or more if located closer to cities (or even strip malls).  But this appears to be America’s promise – if you are willing to drive a long way, American Dream – classic edition is still within reach for more people than it should be.

Living in cities costs more and comes with benefits, but those benefits are often paid for and are ecologically more sustainable.  These places are often vilified by the Right, but Blue cities and states clearly contribute more to the national economy and less to national gun deaths (per capita).  To quote Col. Jessup, “I would rather you say thank you and be on your way.”  As I listen to the stories about gas prices hurting Americans I have to wonder: did people never think the bill would come due?  Instead of treating this as the 20th foreshadowing of the ecological and economic catastrophe of climate change, it is treated as an inconvenience or a deprivation of the fundamental right to cheap gas and a larger carbon foot print as long as you are willing to drive an hour or two a day to get to your American dream (which, of course, compounds the problems).

I think the aforementioned guns are another good example of this at work.  Some states pass laws to protect their citizens from gun violence, but they are only as strong as the porous gun laws in neighboring states.  But once again, the freedoms of the (majority) conservative spaces in this country are sacrosanct and the rights to clean air, life and a future for the actual majority seem to be allowed only as far as they are compatible with the immediate whims and desires of “Real Americans,” who love their country more than anyone, but often seem to live in spaces with… fewer Americans.

The American Dream has become an environmental, economic and emotional Ponzi scheme.  Except if you point out the problem early (Jimmy Carter) you will get voted out and if you preside over the consequences (Joe Biden) your approval ratings will plummet.  How can anything actually get done when enough of the voting public will punish you for trying to solve a problem or blame you before you can fix it?  The Right often acts like food stamps and other forms of assistance create a dependency that will ruin the country and the communities that are (perceived to be) the beneficiaries of those benefits.   Yet somehow, many Americans need never make the choice between more expensive housing or higher gas prices, because living cheaply is the right of “real Americans.”  This is not a sustainable model for a country or a future.  No one would accept a politician saying “If you wanted cheaper gas bills at the pump, maybe you should have worked harder so you could live closer to your job or the city!”  And yet, it has always been a viable political argument to so many in this country to decry poverty as more of a life choice than middle class comforts as the choices that they actually are.

We will not limit guns, even if to save the lives of some children. Gun control cannot stop all shootings. But is it not worth stopping some shootings?  Is unlimited cheap gas some inalienable right or something we should have moved beyond decades ago?  Is shoplifting and homelessness the fault of progressive DA’s in the first 2 years of their tenure, or symptoms of problems going back decades?

Covid, as I feared, proved the depth of our concern with the individual over the greater good.  If we are bombing brown people we must be united as a nation, but to save life, the personal burden of wearing a mask or getting a vaccine was too intrusive for many.  How can we expect people to become more selfless when we couldn’t stop being selfish as a million Americans died?  How can we expect to save the planet for our grandkids when we couldn’t wear a mask to save our grandparents?

To end on a truly depressing note (before I read the article in today’s New York Times about the “environmental nuclear bomb” in red Utah), I was waiting for a train in New York’s Penn Station a couple of afternoons ago and a homeless man, who clearly had intellectual disabilities, was asking for money.  He had cigarette burns in his sweatshirt. He seemed genuinely harmless as he walked from person to person saying “excuse me, do you have change?”  Sadly I did not have money on me.  I thought to myself, how are we a society where a man to exist like this?  How much would it be worth to make sure he has a roof over his head, clothing that does not look ravaged from both nature and humans, and safety from a world that I can only imagine has been unimaginably cruel to him?  How much would the pro-life Right and the progressive Left be willing to add on to their gas bill or gun permit fee?  Sadly, I think the answer is $0 and that seems appropriate for a country headed quickly toward moral bankruptcy.

Road Comedy Recap: Virginia is for Hecklers

This weekend I made my way down to Washington, DC for a pair of shows as I prepare for the re-taping of the special whose name we dare not speak.  The trip began with an Uber ride worthy of the Fast and Furious Franchise and ended with a woman yelling at me that she had been abused by a priest.  Let’s just get into the recap!  Also the recap of my Buffalo road trip is part of a bonus episode of my podcast now available on my very robust and very cheap Patreon. Link available on my website menu above.

I don’t have friends. I got Uber

I have not used Uber in many years. I deleted it off of my phone and have used Lyft when I need a ride app because I believe choosing the company with fewer scandals and sexually assaults is responsible and engaged citizenship. But when I am about to miss my last chance to get to DC on time on a Friday, my sympathy for Me Too becomes AFTER ME!  The wait for Lyft on Friday afternoon was “limited availability.” which struck me as odd so I asked my girlfriend if she still had Uber on her phone. She did because our relationship is a lie!  “I THOUGHT WE AGREED TO DELETE UBER!  But while you still have it can you check if a car can get me?”  The wait said 15 minutes, which would get me to Newark Penn Station at 3:08 for a 3:13 train.  Close call, but I had no option. And then I waited about 23 minutes. So right there it seemed my window had all but closed. When I got in the car, the school crossing guard stopped us before we could go through the light. I slapped my (non-surgically repaired) knee and said “FU*K!”  My driver remained calm and non-judgmental and said “you are in a hurry?  I will do my best to get you there quickly.”

What proceeded was one of the two greatest cab performances I have ever been part of.  The first was the guy many years ago who got me from LaGuardia airport to midtown Manhattan in record time and for the cheapest price I’d ever had by using a series of side streets. It was Harry Potter level shit.  The other one was this driver who employed barely legal and perhaps extra-legal methods to get me to Newark Penn with six minutes to spare. It was like a Fast and Furious reboot where Dom is behind the wheel and The Rock is anxious and hasn’t been to the gym in a while sitting in the backseat.  And Vin Uber managed to never really be reckless. The ride was $20 but I gave him $40 in cash as a tip and told him his heroism that day would be immortalized in a comedian’s blog.

Night 1: Washington, DC

On my Acela train to DC (I call the Friday afternoon Acela to DC the adultery express, simply because it seems to feature a high number of attractive women and old men) I sat next to a woman who sort of looked like an older, but healthier Lindsey Lohan. When I got to Union Station I ate a Chopt Salad and mapped out my set for the 8pm show at Baby Wale (no affiliation with the the DC rapper, though I assured the crowd that there would be a cease and desist order arriving any day). Several die hard fans showed up, as well as middle aged women who I believe left very disappointed that I did very few impressions and lots of jokes that were not super nice.

Amtrak Pet Peeve – people not closing the overhead compartments – it is rude, lazy and a health hazard to travelers of height (tall is no longer acceptable nomenclature as it makes us sound like Starbucks beverages)

After the show, show booker and comedian Jon Yeager drove me to Springfield, VA where he had booked me a Motel 6.  During my stay I thought there might have been a tear drop tattoo convention being held in one of their presidential suites, but it turns out it is just sort of a motel for ruffians.  As I told the crowd on Saturday, they didn’t leave the light on, but the moonlight shining off of the police caution tape did create a warm, welcoming glow. I was in Room 114 because we could not afford the upgrade to where the players dwell.  This was my second hotel in the last 6 months with bulletproof glass for the front desk, in case you are wondering if fame and fortune have had a positive effect on my career.

My Motel 6 in a 4 part collage

Night 2: Culpeper, Virginia 

The next day I read, but to make up for that un-American activity I ate breakfast at McDonald’s and lunch at Chick Fil A.  To kill the afternoon before Jon picked me up for the trek to Culpeper (one p, so I pronounced it Culpeeper to the crowd for the night) I reviewed my first special taping to make more notes for the re-taping on May 14th.  Remind me never to do that again. That set and crowd really should have been my walk-off and I was tempted on Saturday while listening to call off the second taping on principle.  But the thing about principles and comedy is that principles always lose and no one cares. So SHOW STILL ON!

The show in Culpeper was at The Sangria Bowl – a very nice Latin restaurant with a staff of nice young Latin women. it was located across the street from the Culpeper GOP headquarters so I couldn’t tell if this was some sort of advanced Get Out trap to lure me in with tostones and attractive Latinas while the sundown committee across the street plotted my demise, but I stayed anyway.

The show went well. A remarkably diverse crowd for a town that the census lists as 109% white.   I worked through material and issues and was ready to close with my bit on Holy Water when a woman yelled.  Now the first time she yelled was to tell me she did not believe I was half Black.  But I eventually won her over.  The next time she yelled was 3 lines into my Holy Water bit to say “I WAS MOLESTED BY A PRIEST!”  Now, there are many ways to deal with a heckle or an interruption, but that is a tough one. Perhaps if I was some edge lord douche I would have said “well he had terrible taste” or “well at least it was not a boy” but sometimes battles are not worth fighting, so I just said “Obviously I am very sorry to hear that.  Well, let’s move on to my bit about how my Mom beat breast Cancer” (which is what I did – comedy life hack – a great time to work on material that is often somewhat uncomfortable  is when an audience member has screamed about being a victim of child sexual abuse – the crowd is then way more amenable to Cancer material than they might have previously been.”

After the show Jon and I chatted with some new fans (at least one of whom said they would read this blog – THIS IS A FAN TEST) and then drove back to the Motel 6, which had actually been downgraded to a Motel 4 during the day. We stopped at a Wendy’s where I treated myself to a medium chocolate frosty and then slept for 5 hours before waking up to go to Church, during which a priest yelled at me “I WAS MOLESTED AT A COMEDY SHOW!”  Now I wait for the Acela back home to New Jersey.  Have a great week folks (join the Patreon!)

Road Comedy Recap: Best 12 Hour Stretch of My…

This weekend I was booked almost last minute to headline McGuire’s Comedy Club in Bohemia ON Long Island (I was told after the show not to say I am “in” Long Island).  Now whereas Long Island’s politics range from Trump to Don Jr in the towns I have played, the closer you get to the Atlantic Ocean the more those Trump politics become more Ginni Thomas and Marjorie Taylor Greene.  But with the re-shoot of my special a little over a month away, a decent check for a one show gig and nothing else on my schedule I said I would take it (my first time at this club).  It ended up being a great show for reasons I will detail and the great show was merely the opening act for other great news Saturday would bring.  So without further adieu!

The Bookshelf

My day actually began with a trip to Riverdale in the Bronx to pick up a bookshelf from my Mom’s apartment.  (The Bookshelf also sounds like an awful A24 film that would be nominated for 4 Oscars).  I have exceeded my bookshelf capacity in my apartment (NERD) so I asked if I could I could take one of my Mom’s which would fit my needs and match with my dog Cookie’s color scheme.  So I took a 9:55am bus from Bloomfield to Port Authority Bus Terminal to the A train to 168th street, transferred to the 1 train, got off at 231st street greeted by a 3 minute rain/hail storm (seriously the 3 minutes couldn’t have happened during the preceding 100 minutes I was inside transportation?) and then the Bx10 bus to my Mom’s apartment (a/k/a my childhood home).

As you can see Cookie’s fur and the bookshelf do not clash

I hung out with my Mom for a couple of hours, during which she asked why I did not shave if I had a show, at which point I told her 4 days of Islamic teen stubble on my face (the closest I can really get to a beard) would be the least of my worries performing for the OAN fan club.  Then the guy with a truck I hired to move the book shelf arrived. We put it in his truck, which he delivered to Bloomfield, NJ and I made my way back to the A train to catch a 4:24 train to Oakdale, Long Island.

Long Island Dominance

Both legs of my Long Island RR trip were not very crowded, but on each train I managed to have mask-less MAGA dudes sitting next to me, one of whom apparently though that even covering your mouth when you cough or sneeze was too much of a concession to the woke mob.  When I arrived in Oakdale I ventured into a Dunkin Donuts to kill time before ordering my Lyft to the club, which was approximately 4 miles away.

When I went into the Dunkin Donuts a woman was talking to the clerk as if she knew him (like the mother of a friend type dynamic, which is also how a lot of porn starts) and she said “How’s school going?” to which he replied, “Well I am actually not enrolled this semester because of the booster requirement.”  Now before I became fully aroused with erotic patriotism for this American hero, I thought “if the choice was between a degree and donuts, maybe you should have gotten the shot?  And if it was the booster you had a problem with, does that mean you already got the first 1 or 2 shots?”  Well, after drinking my coffee and saluting this icon I hopped into a Lyft to the club.

When I arrived at the club I saw that it was pretty packed (Free Ticket Energy) and I gave my intro to the manager. I decided Howard Stern and Billions would be well known and helpful credits when performing in front of Newsmax Plus and the manager immediately deflated me when he came back to me and said “Now Howard Stern is a radio show?  And – ohh Billions is a TV show!”  And yes, my name was wrecked at the top of the show as well giving me the triple crown of “Who gives a sh*t who the headliner is” vibes.  Everyone was very nice though so I sort of didn’t give a sh*t either.

After the emcee and feature both got the crowd going I went up and had one of the best sets of my life.  I don’t mean it was the funniest I’d ever been or it was the tightest set I’d ever had.  But over the course of an hour, while never ceding any ground or trying to run from the fact that I am a Biden-voting Democrat that thinks the Trump family is a huge pile of excrement, I won them over big time.  Like Johnny Lawrence handing Daniel the trophy at the end of Karate Kid level respect.  I got big laughs, a few harmless heckles, zero slaps and fairly robust merch sales after the show.  I also had a discussion that probably turned into a podcast with a group of hard core MAGA dudes that loved my set.  And one of the keys to my success, which I loathe to give away, is that I have come up with the perfect way to untighten right wing crowds when they hear stuff they don’t like (which was like 4 times during my set).   By the end of the show I felt like I had gone into an opposing team’s stadium and dropped 45 on them (points, not Trump hats).  Even better analogy, I felt like Rocky in Rocky IV in Russia (and not just because half of the crowd probably supports Putin) as the crowd realizes that what they are watching from the Italian (looking) guy is undeniable.

The MAGA audience is cut!

UpLyft for the Soul

So after a show that went great and the fact that my next possible train out of Oakdale was in an hour, I decided to check the Lyft app and saw that a car from the Atlantic Ocean back to Bloomfield, NJ was only $108.  It would also get me home before the beginning of SNL. So I said – “fu*k it – I am treating myself after this perfect day of book shelf moving and comedy crushing.”  My driver arrived, a young, eager to please Indian (I believe) fellow.  He accepted the ride, but seemed sort of nervous about going what would be a very long drive.  I assured him I would give him a big tip.  At that point he pulled over to a rest stop and I had to tell him I meant money.

So as he drove at a fast, but still controlled speed I could see that he was on pace to get me home in 70 minutes instead of the estimated 90.  So with 30 minutes left in the ride I asked my Twitter followers to Venmo me money for the driver and I would add their money to my $50 tip.  Well when we got to my building at 11:08pm I gave him $50 tip on the app (the max it would allow which seems stupid) and $141 in cash representing the donations from fans.  He was very grateful and I thought, what a great end to the night. Little did I know it would get even better

 

 

From Bookshelf to Booker

When I got upstairs to my apartment, I looked on my phone and saw that a video I had posted earlier of me impersonating NJ Senator Cory Booker had been retweeted… by Senator Cory Booker!  So the video has been blowing up for the last day (I just added an Eric Adams video to Twitter and YouTube).  And as the cherry on top of an absolutely perfect 14 hour run, I did not think SNL sucked!

NJ legend recognize NJ legend

Road Comedy Recap: Utahpia

I am writing this last installment from a 4 hour delayed Amtrak to Pittsburgh.  I was supposed to be off of this train 3 hours ago, but engine troubles in Chicago and freight traffic derailed that plan.  Because of the extensive delay, my connecting train from Pittsburgh to Newark has already left the station so a bus in Pittsburgh will take me to my final destination of New Jersey.  I have often compared my comedy career to a horror movie – when you think victory has been secured, THAT is when the villain arises from behind and slits your throat.  The final leg of my “Paid Vacation Tour” (as I joked with the crowd in Utah – better for your mental health to say “I got paid for comedy while on vacation” than “my comedy gigs keep losing me money.”  So here is the Utah/journey home finale of the early 2022 road recap series.

Wednesday: Road Warrior to See the Jazz Beat the Warriors

The girlfriend (Laura) and I left Vegas early on Wednesday morning to make our way to Salt Lake City for the Jazz-Warriors game.  Since I have been behind the wheel twice in the last 21 years all the driving would be the responsibility of Laura.  Averaging 90mph for 6 hours we arrived in Salt Lake City shortly after 4pm.  But not before stopping for gas and a nature photo in Provo

God’s work. And also a beautiful mountain landscape.

The game that night started poorly with a 13-0 Golden State run, but for most of the game after that the Jazz kicked their ass. That made my career record 2-0 when attending Jazz games in person in Utah.  Might be time for a key to the city.  As a bonus, I was invited on for an hour with the local ESPN radio affiliate to talk comedy and the Utah Jazz on Friday’s show.  Of course, in classic J-L form – that appearance would be a day after my Thursday show in Jordan, Utah so it only counted as promotion for Utah people with time machines.

a friend caught me on ESPN during Wednesday’s telecast

Thursdays Were The Best Days

Thursday started with a nice breakfast at the Homewood Suites we were staying in and then it was time for my (now legendary) visit to the Utah Jazz team store.  I ended up spending $666 on merch (the mark of the hype beast?), but more importantly I made my first real goofy tik tok that people seemed to enjoy.  Since the store was empty at 1130 am except for employees (who, like everyone we encountered from Utah, were incredibly nice) I had free reign to film various video clips, which I stitched together into a Pretty Woman parody.

After the shopping spree we toured some of the LDS sights downtown and then met a longtime Twitter friend (Spencer Hall – a big Jazz blogger I began following like 12 years ago who looks like a boy band Tim Tebow and also, as I would learn, is some kind of connected dude in Salt Lake City) for dinner. Here is a pic of us in front of a giant Jazz mural that he and his lady brought us to.

Spencer and me at the Jazz mural

Then we headed to Jordan Landing for the show at Wiseguys.  I will be putting out a 21 minute video on my YouTube later this week called The Utah Jazz Mini Special.  About 15 minutes of the set is Utah Jazz material and a new bit about Mormon history that I learned on our tour of the LDS sights referenced above.  The show was a home run and thanks to the crowds in Chicago, LA and Utah I sold out of the merch I brought with me. A truly great night until I got back to our hotel and Laura asked “Where is your jacket?”  See, when you are so hot on stage you can literally heat yourself and not realized you don’t have a coat until an hour later, despite Utah temperatures.  But the next morning, on his way to his day job, the Wiseguys manager that night, Jose, brought me my coat to the Homewood Suites.  Like I said, super nice people.

Friday – The Streak Continues

On Friday, after a poor night of sleep because I was coming to grips with the fact that I would have to re-shoot my comedy special (listen to this week’s Righteous Pk podcast for some laughs and despair), I made my way to the local ESPN radio affiliate for an hour on air.  It was a great time talking comedy and some hoops with Spencer Checketts before heading to the Toyota Club of the Vivnt Arena at 530 for the complimentary buffet/banquet before the game (when you buy 8th row center court seats you get some perks… like sitting next to 10 year olds with rich parents).  The Jazz won the game, running my streak to 3 wins while attending Jazz home games (definitely deserve key to the city).

We then went back to the hotel to sleep because I had a 3:30 am train out of Salt Lake City Saturday.

Planes, Trains and What the fu*k is Happening?

I got my train at 3:30 and settled in for an additional 2 hours of sleep. Laura, who was flying home, would end up having a 10 hour delay in her departure, turning a noon flight into a red eye. During her trials and tribulations I would end up having the most beautiful train ride of my life in the Colorado portion of the trip (just like Kansas was the state to sleep through on the way to LA, Nebraska earned that designation on the California Zephyr route to Chicago.

No filter view from my train room in Colorado.

When I arrived in Chicago is when everything went to shit.  No need to bore you with the details, but I am still not in Pittsburgh and my dog Cookie puked this morning, which means one thing: it is time for me to be home already.  Thanks for reading – I hope you enjoyed this three week odyssey (remember to subscribe to my YouTube and Instagram for all of my travel photos and sketches- and lastly –  tune into Billions on Sunday the 20th for my cable drama debut.

Road Non-Comedy Recap: Las Vegas

As a break between gigs in Los Angeles and Salt Lake City, I did something I have not done since 2018 or 2019… I took a vacation!  Admittedly it was a 24 hour vacation to break up travel between Los Angeles and Salt Lake City, but it still counts!  The only two times I have visited Vegas in my life were both with my family. The first was in college with my basketball team and my family visited so I did no gambling and no clubbing (and to be honest not even that much basketball playing) and the next time was to take my Mom for her birthday with my brother many years ago.  it was fun enough, but buying three tickets to Thunder Down Under was a lot more awkward than we anticipated.  So this time I was meeting my girlfriend for a Masks Up, Finances Down trip to Sin City!

I took an 830 am Greyhound from LA to Vegas and unlike my bus ride from San Jose with 3 recently released felons (see previous road recap blog) this bus ride really felt like it had a criminal element.  The woman behind me was going to get her son who was recently released and the woman next to her never stopped talking on her phone for 5 hours (no mask – so spreading her profanity-laced droplets). In the back of the bus, which I ventured through only once for a Cirque du Soleil-level piss on a moving bus, I saw an awkward white dude surrounded by sleeping Black dudes and it made me laugh because it felt like a Greyhound reboot of The Mad Real World from Chappelle’s Show.

When I arrived at the Vegas bus dept, I hopped on a local bus with an incredibly unhelpful bus driver (DUDE – YOU WORK AT A TRAVEL DEPOT IN A TOURISM CITY – HOW DO MY QUESTIONS BOTHER YOU?).  I arrived at the MGM Grand and my girlfriend met me on line waiting to check in.  We had a large room, but had to walk down a long hallway that smelled like a stripper ready to go on stage (post perfume, pre-sweat and Champagne Room).

MGM Grand was so wild, even the pandas were twerking

Then it was time to gamble.  Long story short on gambling – the Wheel of Fortune machine was our best friend.  I ended up losing money eventually, but the only time I was in the plus was with my success on that machine. My girlfriend, meanwhile, crushed the shit out of the machine, winning every time except for once.  I lost everywhere I went – Game of Thrones and Little Shop of Horrors machines ended up murdering me (I know the fun-theme machines suck because casinos know you will play based on the theme regardless of how expensive the plays or how bad the pay outs… but I did it anyway).  I then placed $20 on my college number (33) on roulette.  The only positive to losing that is that a couple wearing Let’s Go Brandon masks followed my lead with more expensive bets, hoping I would be good luck.  So they lost their MAGA dollars at least.  I must admit, I did not have the same level of disdain for them as the usual MAGAts because they were following casino rules on Covid, which plenty of people were not.  So if it’s between hating Joe Biden and not spreading Covid and hating Joe Biden and spreading Covid, I will tip my ironic red hat to the former.

Then we went to Craftsteak, an outstanding and expensive restaurant in the hotel.  I was able to retroactively count it as Valentine’s Day dinner, so that means I get a break Monday… pizza party!  Then we headed to see Vegas/Magic legend David Copperfield.  We both enjoyed the show, though some of the theatric elements were a little too much for me.  And, as a big fan of the show Arrested Development (the greatest tv comedy of all time – Netflix seasons do not count), it is hard to take magic 100% seriously after Wil Arnett’s GOB performance.  And the most inadvertently hilarious part of the show was how many non-English speaking/barely speaking people Copperfield ended up selecting for demonstrations.

So that was it – the next morning we got out early for a 6 hour drive to Salt Lake City, which is where I am typing this now.  The epic Salt Lake Recap will be written Saturday from Amtrak as I wrap up the epic vacation/tour.

Road Comedy Recap: Los Angeles Domination

I am sitting in the living room of my buddy Nick’s apartment in Pasadena as my laundry finishes drying and I gear up for the final leg of the J-L “Who The Fu*k Books Your Gigs?” 2022 Tour.  I leave tomorrow on Greyhound for Las Vegas where I will attempt to quickly gamble away all the money I have made on this run of shows so far and then will go see David Copperfield to see if he can make an agent appear for me (I hear he is great, but I don’t think he’s that great).  Then on Thursday it is off to Salt Lake City for Jazz vs Warriors on Wednesday, J-L Vs Audiences (Thursday at WiseGuys) and Jazz vs Magic on Friday.  But this blog is not about where I am going, but where I have been so lets run through the Los Angeles adventures now!

Con Bus

On Thursday I made my way back to Los Angeles from a successful and fun night in San Jose at the Improv. I arrived at the bus/train station to get my Amtrak bus (yes, you read the correctly) to San Luis Obispo to catch the Pacific Surfliner back to LA.  A friend had said I could get on his show at the Hollywood Improv if I got there by 11 and my train was scheduled to arrive at Union Station in LA at 955pm. But first I would have to survive the bus ride portion to San Luis Obispo.

Apparently three guys, just released from prison, were dropped off in San Jose to make their way down to LA.  As I would learn on the bus ride down, one had done 6.5 years for meth and assault, one had done 15 months for something and one guy, who just wanted to be left alone from the hyper rants of meth/assault guy simply said at one point, “I don’t steal; I kill” (the philosophy behind my stand up comedy, and also made me feel safe leaving my belongings on the bus during a rest stop).  Halfway through the bus ride, 15 months came up to me and said, “Hello sir, we have a bet back there – are you a cop?”  I said no, because it is true, but I also would have said no if I was until backup arrived.

I got to SLO safe and then hopped on the Pacific Surfliner. I was the only one in business class… which was two of the train cars.  I felt like a real VIP.  It is an absolutely gorgeous trip, especially since at this time of year, the train runs along the Pacific for about 90 minutes right at sundown.

No filter. More of these photos on my IG (@JLCauvin)

Warm Up Shows and Magic

Nick picked me up at Union Station and we made our way to the Hollywood Improv. When we arrived there happened to be a parking spot right in front and as we emerged from the car I could feel that collective “who are they? Should we know them?” turns from the crowd waiting to get in. I saw a large crowd outside and thought, “Wow, my name really carries some weight” until I was told that Kevin Hart, star of credit card commercials, was in the main room. I would be performing in the lab, the nice side room of the Improv.  Eventually I went on in front of a small, but nice audience and got some good jokes in, though I felt that mocking Joe Rogan made them a little uncomfortable (“what if one day he wants to make me a star???”).

During the days I hit the gym just to let these L.A. types know that just because I am smarter and more talented than them, doesn’t mean I am willing to cede the ground of superficial bullsh*t either bro!

Do you even take gym selfies bro?

On Friday night I went to see Nick perform magic at the renowned Magic Castle. I felt a lot of pride watching Nick do his thing because for a long time he had mentioned the Comedy Castle, but I did not know what it was and simply kept saying “next trip.” But my last time in LA he explained that it was an exclusive, well known club where great magicians work and I said, “well next time I will come!”  That was in 2016, so a little longer than expected to make my Magic Castle debut, but I did and saw him work his skills and crack people up.  I think I felt pride, but it might have been the strong, complimentary drinks Nick was serving. Either way, good times!

Later that night we went to a place on Melrose for a stand up show run by comedian Matt Taylor, someone I knew from way back in NYC in my early days as a comedian before Matt moved to LA (second NY comedy transplant named Matt to put me up – another Matt friend (Ritter) ran the the Thursday show.  I went up last on the show and murdered the fu*k out of that room. Great crowd, greater comedian (working memoir title).

Sunday Stress-day

On Saturday I had my first L.A. power lunch with a columnist from The Hollywood Reporter at the SoHo House (He could not attend Sunday’s show so unlike my usual fans who do nothing to make up for their neglect, he took me to a swanky ass restaurant to talk about the most baffling thing in all of comedy: my career.).  After another night at the Magic Castle on Saturday night, I woke up and made my way to the closest English-speaking Catholic Church near Nick. When I went up to receive the Eucharist I did something I have never done in my 35 years as a Body of Christ receiver: I dropped it.  As a giant stranger in a Church full of diminutive Latino people and few white holdovers I felt looks of people that said “what demon-monster has entered our sanctuary?”  I got another wafer and then made my way out of Church.  To make up for my violation of the Body of Christ I went back to the South Pas gym to work on the Body of Cauvin.

For dinner I met a friend/associate who had worked on a few things with me over the pandemic. We ate some BBQ down the block from Flappers and then I walked the fateful 2 blocks to Flappers where I would perform.  My heart was racing and I had the chills.  It is probably not good for me that I always make shows into life and death events, but the silver lining is that usually helps me deliver good performances.  And on that note…

The show was an absolute masterpiece (seriously – I know it’s douchey to say that I guess, but it really was).  The fans coming out were phenomenal and as a special treat I was finally able to consummate my pandemic Twitter friendship with Richard Marx with a hug and profuse thanks for his generous support of my Internet nonsense the last couple of years.  For those of you who are fans and still reading this, if you listen to the last 2 (short) episodes of Righteous Pk Podcast you will hear that there were some unforeseen technical issues with Half Blackface (my special filmed in October in one miracle take) so delivering an A+ show was necessary for my ego and mindset, if for no other reason.

Marxism

So now that my laundry is done it is time to pack up for my bus to Vegas tomorrow.  Thank you everyone who came out to see me. You are the best part of this business!  As proof, for everyone who said I never smiled in my LA photos (hard with this Sun in my face!) here’s a pic of me and Batman after Sunday’s show

The Dark Knight and The Beige Blight

Road Comedy Recap – 22 Hours in San Jose

I sit in my hotel writing this latest road recap from Hotel de Anza, a hotel in the shadow of Zoom’s headquarters (I think – or just a large building with Zoom all over it – if you do a live corporate gig at Zoom, is it still a Zoom show?) after a mostly fun night in San Jose and a 21 hour day.  I hung out with some friends, met some of my most die hard fans, had some merch stolen at the show and accidentally fooled my Mom about the stains on my Greyhound bus seats. So without further adieu, and before I have to check out of my hotel let’s do this!

On Wednesday I woke up at 4am to get my 515am bus. Fortunately I had not yet modified my sleep schedule to the west coast so it was not as difficult to wake up at that hour (went to be at 10pm), but my buddy Nick, who is letting me crash with him in LA, apparently just pulled an all-nighter to take me to the bus.  As my home away from home for almost a decade, Nick has been the unsung hero of all of my west coast trips.  He got me to the station which at 445am was an interesting mix of exhausted immigrant families and Black dudes talking about YouTube fight videos.  I hopped on my bus (silver lining to taking the early Greyhound – you don’t get shot on a Greyhound later that day in California) and grabbed the handicapped seat which provided more leg room than any first class flight accommodations.  The bus never got too crowded – I had my own seat the entire 9 hour trip and the ride was absolutely beautiful. California really is a beautiful state, even when travelling on seats that looked like they are covered in semen.

When i wasn’t reading I enjoyed just staring out the window on the Greyhound to San Jose
The genius of Greyhound seat design – you don’t know where the fashion ends and the ejaculate begins! (this is the joke that fooled my Mom)

Now as the bus got more crowded, a few people started coming on without masks. And in a weird move, the guy next to me had a KN95 mask that he wore on his chin for most of the ride.  As I joked on stage in San Jose, “so you upgraded your mask, to protect your chin?”  But I opted to fume silently at the selfish, rule breaking and I think I made the prudent decision (see article about deadly fight on bus above).

I arrived in San Jose, which was beautiful and sunny and windy AF.  Northern California always seems super sneaky with the weather: “Oh look it’s beautiful… and 62 degrees and… holy shit that wind is making me cold AF!”  My hotel was a quick 10 minute walk from the train/bus station. After checking in and mapping out my set I met up with my friend Hank from law school who made the drive from San Francisco and Brandon (no, not Joe Biden – a man actually named Brandon), a friend through my bff who went to college with him. We had dinner at a local food hall and then made out way to the Improv.

The club was great – it is sort of an old theater type space and thanks to some good fans (and good efforts by the club to fill seats) I ended with up with a pretty good crowd.  In addition to bits from my (cursed) special – please go to the podcast tab and listen to the new bonus episode of Righteous Pk if you don’t know – I dropped some brand new, off the dome bits on Clarence Thomas, masks on Greyhound, how me and my Uncle looked like a Law & Order casting in the Bronx (this was just something I said to someone who worked at the Improv and then he said “do you do that on stage?” – WELL I WILL NOW!), the single best Trump impression I’ve ever done and some other shit I have already forgotten (but thankfully have on tape) that did well.

I did not make the marquee at the San Jose Improv, but from what I hear “Open Mic” is a beast of a comedian

After the show I met some fans who are almost as well known to me as I am to them because of their strong engagement with me. It always feels good to meet fans like that (so that your comedy feels less like a distraction and more like *pretentious voice* appreciated art).  But there was a blemish on an otherwise socially and comedically enjoyable night.  A fan walked up to buy one of my USB cards (the $40 cards have all 6 of my stand up albums so it is a good deal). He asked if I took credit cards. I said that I did and I pulled out the square addition for my phone to swipe his credit card, but then realized I had left my phone in the showroom.  I asked him to wait and ran, got my phone and made it back to the table within 15 seconds.  When I returned he was gone and so was one of my album cards.  Now the crazy thing about this is based on the interaction (he was ready to pay and could not have known I did not have my phone on me) he made the spur of the moment decision to steal from me.  I hope he enjoys the albums.

Hank, Brandon and I went to a local pub for a beer with a fan who was effusive in his praise for my comedy and even more effusive in his praise for his Ivy League PhD and claim of having a large penis.  After that was done, we made a run to the local Insomnia Cookies, which claimed to be open until midnight, but was already closed when we arrived at 1135pm.  Instead we went to an ice cream shoppe and then said our goodbyes (PhDick had already made his way back home).

So today’s agenda is: do a Mike Lindell pillow review from my hotel before checkout, record a cameo for someone and then get on an Amtrak bus/train trip back to LA (9.5 hours for reading and watching some movies), and, if on time, perform around 1030pm at the Hollywood Improv.  Every day in my comedy career is basically like an awful season of 24.

Thank you San Jose!  You were great, except for the theft!

Road Comedy Recap: No Sidewalk Suburbs of Chicago

I am sitting in Chicago’s Union Station (the Amtrak Metropolitan Lounge to be more specific) racing to write this before my train gets called.  This first leg of my whistle-please-stop doing comedy tour in Chicago is complete and now it is on to leg two – the Southwest Chief, which is Amtrak’s daily train from Chicago to Los Angeles, with stops at many cities, including Las Vegas,… New Mexico?  I did not know there was a Las Vegas, New Mexico, but I hope it is known as Virtue City.  I am taking Amtrak and Greyhound this entire trip because after 2 years of largely working 2 jobs in my apartment, I wanted built-in relaxation where I could not do anything besides look out a window, read or watch a show, even if I wanted to.  So let’s see if I can type the Chicago portion quickly before getting on the train!

Capitol Limited

On Tuesday I made my way to Washington, DC to catch the Capitol Limited – their DC to Chicago train.  I had been upgraded to a full bedroom (from a “roomette,” which is French for “too small for a giant”  – spoiler I am taking a roomette to LA) and settled in.  I watched the entire season of Hawkeye on Disney+ (solid) and made it halfway through the first of four books I packed, David Frum’s Trumpocracy (an autographed gift from the author) and ate some decent meals courtesy of my my excellent train car attendant , who looked like an extra from Dances with Wolves, but sounded like Hank Azaria in The Birdcage.  The train was actually running ahead of time (I slept about 4.5 hours during the night) when we left Toledo but due to train traffic and mechanical difficulties on other trains we got to Chicago 2 hours late. THANKS BIDEN!

I am an Amtrak sleeping car tall

When I got to Chicago I hopped in a Lyft to Schaumburg, IL where the Chicago Improv is located.  It was my first time back at the Chicago Improv since 2010. That year, one year into my “I don’t need another job after being laid off because I am going to make it in comedy,” I went to audition for feature work at the club. The pay for the spot was $50, which slightly exceeded my $100 hotel and $405 Jet Blue round trip flight.  I was passed that night to feature at the club… as I joked once “I will end up headlining clubs before they ever feature me.” Prescient and pessimistic. Prescimistic!  (trademarking that since it is basically my brand).

I arrived at my Hampton Inn at 1145am, but as people who have seen my stand up recently, the Hampton Inn has really been the hospitality hero of my comedy career.  They let me check in at 1145am, which was a nice help since the Chicago temperature was a balmy 0 when I arrived.  If I ever get big enough to sign with a hotel chain it will be Hampton Inn.

MTV Cribs – Amtrak bedroom edition

Now my show was not until Thursday night so I had time to do my favorite road activity: legal work in my hotel room.  I got to town early by a day for a few reasons – so I had a day to feel acclimated and fresh and also because a social media friend that I made during the pandemic was a local TV personality and had told me to let him know if I got a gig in Chicago. This was no BS offer – the guy had me on via zoom twice in 2020 and was just very kind and supportive – he looked LA, but clearly had solid midwestern values.  Well, as the JL Jinx would have it, after 10 years on air the show had been canceled.

Now the night before I left for Chicago I received an email that my tickets sales in LA for February 6th were not good, so as often happens to me when alone, negativity snowballs and I began to ask myself “what the fu*k am I doing?” And with that joyous thought I fell asleep.

Street Walker

A common complaint I have had throughout my travels in America is, “why aren’t there more sidewalks?”  No wonder we are a fat country!  Well, Schaumburg has sidewalks… but they were all buried under a mound of snow. So to walk for lunch or a coffee on Thursday I found myself walking on the edge of quasi-highways, looking like a drifter. I never got hit by a car, but one person yelled at me “Run Forrest Run” as I trotted past traffic, which did not make me feel optimistic for the comedy sensibilities of the people of Chicago suburbs. Really?  Run Forrest Run is the best you’ve got?

After a meal at PF Chang’s (I like to lean on my eastern philosophy and training before a stressful show) I made my way into the Chicago Improv.  An absolute beauty of a club. Seriously, if you live in Chicago and did not go to my show (like the woman (Fan?) who had a lengthy conversation with me on IG about where I should have eaten lunch and then wished me luck on my show… maybe I can just seat 50 Zagat’s guides at my next show, in lieu of humans) you should go to the Improv.

PF Chang’s next door to the Improv tried to set me up with a sidepiece

The emcee and feature both did well and then I got on stage in front of a respectable crowd and proceeded to do a very self-indulgent 80 minutes.  To be honest I have never gone quasi-hoarse on stage and that is when I knew I had done too much. That said, most of the set was pretty damn killer and already have developed some new bits that make me want to plan for another album at the end of the year.  The audience was really great and after the show meeting the fans was really great.  I know a lot of people have said things like “you got me through the pandemic” and other such nice statements, but after being so stressed and bummed about so many things related to my career, including in the last 48 hours, meeting the fans after the show was maybe the first time ever (no offense to all other great fans in other cities) that it really lifted my spirits.  Not sure if it was because there were many people who I had many interactions with on social media, or if they were at the right show at the right time to pick me up or if it was nice that so many people had specific comments about bits they liked, but whatever the reason (the real reason may have been that they bought more merch than any other crowd in the last year) it made me feel damn good!  So to the fans and friends who came out in Chicago – thank you!  Be warned though, once this all turns south in 6 days or 6 months I will probably blame you for making me want to keep at it.

Goodbye Chicago. Thank you for your service

Bam!  Finished – time to get on this 40 hour train (2nd David Frum book and season 1 of Raised By Wolves on HBO Max is this leg of the trip’s content). Follow my YouTube and Instagram for more train adventures. See you in California!

Road Comedy Recap: Capital Offense in Harrisburg

This weekend I headed off for my first road work of the new year. I was performing in the capital of Pennsylvania, Harrisburg (I think Harrisburg is one of those capitals, like Albany, Austin and Sacramento, just picked to throw off school children trying to memorize state capitals – “What do you mean the capital is the 9th most important city in the state?”).  I have a very busy day today (would have written this on the train home on Sunday, but there was no café car to sit in, so Monday morning had to do) so I may make this briefer than my usual road reporting, but don’t take brevity as a lack of gratitude for surviving a weekend in mask-less Trump Country!  Here we go:

Friday – From VIP to MIA?

When I got on the train in Newark (the Rhianna to NY Penn Station’s Beyonce, in terms of homelessness and discomfort) I made my way to the Quiet Car. And it was just me and one other dude, so I began reading my Malcolm X biography in peace and 3 hours later we pulled into Harrisburg.  The quiet car never exceeded 12 people in the whole car so I arrived in Harrisburg feeling like I was already ahead of the game in terms of Covid safety.  I would need that head start…

I got a Lyft outside the station and we made our way to the Club/Restaurant/Motel (all in one building).  However, with the Christian Rock blaring (please check my Instagram from this weekend for the full story/bit) my driver made a left turn about 70 feet too soon, leading us back on the highway toward Pittsburgh. 10 miles, one stop and a near t-bone later we got to the club/restaurant/motel.  When I walked in to check in there were two men, who could only be described as “Real Life Waingros” (Heat reference) very angry at the $85 a night rate that they would have to pay at the West Inn.  Now normally, financial struggles would make me sympathetic, but my prejudice does kick in when you and your friend look like dudes who were told they couldn’t go to the January 6th rally because they were too scary.  The receptionist told them that they could try the Budget Inn next door which, in her words was, “Not good, but it is really cheap.”

Sir, you might be better off at the Budget Inn

After I checked in I went to my room, which was actually decent (first of many surprises this weekend), though I had a door and a window that looked directly at the… Budget Inn.  For almost the entire weekend I kept my window shade closed for fear of either witnessing a murder, an amateur snuff film or a drug deal, while also not wanting to show off my working lights and 28 inch TV to a potentially jealous clientele at the Budget Inn.

As I walked through the restaurant to get to my motel I noticed a Trump 2020 flag on the wall and zero people in a very crowded bar wearing masks.   Uh oh…

I then went to the table (no desk) in my room and began doing legal work before the show, which is of course how all the comedy greats warm up for a set.  Fortunately my day job computer has great battery life because there was only one unused outlet in the entire, relatively large room and it was nowhere near the table.

I then went to the club, had some chicken tenders and a water, brought to me my my masked waitress (#TrustBlackWomen).  Between the tasty fingers and fries and the masked waitress I began to feel like perhaps the comedy club was an oasis of sanity and goodness in an otherwise Trump hellscape.  The emcee and the feature both had strong sets and then I crushed.  Seriously, the crowd was really good.  Some fans showed up, some new fans were made and when I went back to my motel room that night to resume legal work (true) I felt a glow, like I was seeing Harrisburg through rosier colored lenses – that is the power a good show can have on a comedian, at least on this comedian.  But I still didn’t open my shades to see what was happening at the Budget Inn.

Post show groupies? Famous Amos and some legal documents threesome!

Saturday – Let’s Go Brandon

Saturday morning I went to McDonald’s for breakfast, which was delightful. I noticed they no longer serve their hotcakes in Styrofoam, so I guess the radical left has finally gotten to Mickey D’s!  I read a little and then went back to do several hours of legal work in the motel.  For the safety and security of future comedians I will not describe the morning entrance and exit of the motel/restaurant/club, but if the Budget Inn residents ever want to take over the West Inn, there are easy ways…

In the afternoon I made my way to a Starbucks a few miles away to read some more and then walked over to a Catholic Church for Saturday evening vigil Mass.  Like most Catholic Churches I have been to in this country (besides my own in Bloomfield, which is by far the most diverse Catholic Church I have ever been a member of) it was white as hell.  It was me, an Asian couple and an Indian priest among a packed, mostly mask-less white mass.  I always want to ask people in situations like that “don’t you think it’s weird that 99.8% of your Church is white? I am not blaming you individually, but don’t you think in a country like ours that that is sort of odd, at least?”  In a moment that made me laugh, the priest ran out of Communion wafers.  If I were not a pious man of great discipline I would have yelled out “WE WOULD HAVE NEVER RUN OUT OF JESUS IF TRUMP WERE STILL OUR PRESIDENT!”

Church in Harrisburg

I went back to the motel and prepared for the Saturday night show.  The crowd was much bigger than Friday and they were a great crowd again (Seriously, I talked a lot of shit about Harrisburg on my way and while there, but I have nothing but good things to say about the crowds and the club – and it was not enough money for me to lie for them!). Before my set I was told by my waitress that I had “walked out on my tab” the night before (#DontTrustBlackWomen). As it turns out I had assumed that my glass of water and chicken tenders were comped, but they were not.  I settled up after the second show (#StopTheSteal).

The Saturday show was a great way to start the new year. The audience was great, some fans showed up, some new ones were made and I was able to capture a beautiful moment dealing with some Trump-loving hecklers.  The video is already doing work on Twitter so here is the full video on YouTube – watch it and please share it:

In full disclosure I tried to reason with the people later because despite their brief heckling and abhorrent political views, they laughed at themselves and were happy with the show.  And it is definitely naiveté and my love of comedy that still gets me to believe that if people can laugh at themselves then maybe they can be reasoned with.   Probably not, but when I made one of the MAGA dudes’ girlfriend smile at an idea I told him from the stage “next time you want to say some dumb shit like ‘Let’s Go Brandon’ don’t and say ‘well that lib cuck comedian did give me a good idea for a gift for my lady so I’ll give Sleepy Joe a pass this time.'”

I then went back to the motel room and went to sleep with a prayer of gratitude, “As I lay me down to sleep thanks for the great show in front of those Trump sheep.  If I die before I wake, please don’t let it be from a Budget Inn rape. Amen.”

The Budget Inn has a creepy white van outside because of course it does

All kidding aside, if you were at the shows or part of the shows in Harrisburg, thank you very much. It was a trip I had low expectations for, but ended up enjoying myself thoroughly.