How To Fail In Comedy While Really Trying –…

As much as  I complain about being a comedian (literally the lyrics of AC/DC’s “It’s A Long Way To The Top” feel like a diary of my comedy career), it is probably tougher being in musical theater.  I mean, first there’s telling your parents that you are gay, so that is tough in many cases, but there is also an embarrassing lack of integrity.  It seems, despite being a cherished art form in this country’s history, you can barely make a musical today unless it is based on a pre-existing work and/or if you have some marginal to well-known celebrity in at least one of the roles.  I am sure if I were a talented singer/actor I’d be sort of disappointed that the only things available to me were Fast and Furious The Musical or South Pacific starring Lil’ Wayne.  But Broadway musicals still have comedy beat in one aspect.  Because they charge so much per ticket, they actually require people to laugh.  At $10 a ticket, the joke is on us, at $150 a ticket the joke is on the audience if they don’t laugh.  In a modification of the old saying about banks “If you pay $10 to watch a performance and you don’t like it the performer has the problem.  If you pay $150 per ticket and you don’t like it, you have the problem.”

In comedy, we give our product away for free so often (often to no avail) that we have helped devalue it.  Sort of like women’s vaginas this decade.  A slightly revealed ankle in 1940 had more value than a fully exposed woman in 2011 because the market has been flooded with them (of course what I mean is that there has been a great advancement in the empowerment of women).

Part of the problem is that comedy shows can be very expensive with the drink minimums, but the percentage of the bill that goes to the comedy is the part that influences the crowd.  If the bill were 100% toward the show, there might be a different mentality, but when you are being served overpriced drinks, which account for no less than 50% of your bill, the mindset is “Man, that $15 dollar show sucked, and $22 for two drinks!”  There is no need for one to justify paying fifteen dollars by laughing extra, the way there is for a $100 ticket on Broadway.  It should be noted here that The Book of Mormon, currently on Broadway is an exception to this, in that you are unlikely to find any stand up comedy in New York funnier than that musical.

So the comedy business in many ways has contributed to its own status as the second lowest art form, just ahead of poetry slamming.  But I don’t think people  realize how emblematic of America’s capitalistic society comedy is, at least in one significant aspect.  The feature act, normally the middle act at clubs around the country, is like the middle class laborer in America.  And it is a fading prospect for steady work in comedy.

If comedy were politics then presidential candidates would talk about supporting the feature acts.  They are literally the middle class in comedy.  And like the middle class in America, the feature is important to keep the machine going, but wholly irrelevant when it comes to actual business planning.  For example, anecdotal evidence has revealed to me that 20 years ago feature acts were getting $100 per set (in many cases actually more than this during the comedy boom of the late 1980s).  Guess what features get paid per set today – $100.  Is there any job in America where making the same salary (not in adjusted dollars, but the actual same salary) for 20 years is acceptable?

Here is why feature work is important – it helps comedians get good the old-fashioned way – through experience at clubs in front of different crowds.  It allows emerging comedians to get paid and continue to work and it ensures that comedy will have an ever ready supply of comedians who have honed their skills doing actual stand up comedy, rather than by being in movies or on reality television shows.   I am only 8 years into comedy, so I have no illusions that I have enough experience to “tell it like it is” in comedy, but I have been travelling a fair amount and I am smart, so that is at least a start.  Here are two stories that will help you realize what I am beginning to realize, that the feature act is merely the Wisconsin public school teacher of the comedy business.

A year ago I travelled to Detroit to feature at a club.  The terms of the feature work were as follows: $300 for 5 shows, no hotel room provided.  To translate for non-comedians this is like saying: “We can offer you the job you are looking for, but there will be no benefits, the salary is 40% lower than the industry base rate and you will have to lick my ball bag at least twice a week.”  If an employer offered you those details you would  infer that the job was not actually available and you were being pranked or messed with.

Well I took the job because (like Americans who believe in the reality of the American Dream) I have a foolishly optimistic side of me that believes that by meeting different club owners and performing all over the country, sometimes at a loss financially, I will eventually become a better comedian and gain networking opportunities in the business.  So I went to Detroit by Amtrak (17 hours), stayed in a very cheap hotel and took Greyhound bus back to NYC (18 hours).  For that trip I netted $13.  It was one of the proudest moments of my career because I felt like I had just stuck it to the man.  But in reality I had done nothing but waste my time.  It felt like that moment when Jerry Maguire leaves his office and believes that many will follow him, only to find out that Renee Zellweger is the only one.  The truth is I was never wanted at the club, nor is any other feature act worth his salt who does not live in that town.  For the record, attendance for the weekend was well over 1000 people so I am pretty sure twenty cents per person would not have been a major business sacrifice to ensure the standard 1988 rate for a feature act (I just realized that my next sketch may have to be a UNICEF or ASPCA style ad for comedians – “For just twenty cents a customer, you too can ensure that this comedian will not have to be completely embarrassed at school alumni or family functions.  In the arms ooooooof an aaaaangel…”

 Another club experience demonstrates that sometimes a club will not even have the decency to tell you that they are screwing you when you take a job.  I travelled to an audition at a club in Chicago on short notice on my own dime.  It was a fairly expensive plane ride and I had to put myself up in a hotel, but I have enough experience and confidence in my material to do those sort of things.  I performed for a half hour on the show and did very well.  I was told that the booker enjoyed my set and I could expect work out of it as a feature at their clubs (I had already asked for this assurance before booking my flight).  Well, after various immediate emails and prompt replies regarding payment for my performance at the audition, the line went silent.  It has now been 9 months since I received a reply to an e-mail (which means approximately 15 unanswered booking inquiries – including – “Please save me the trouble of not e-mailing you if work is not available – no hard feelings, just want to know where I stand.”  It is one thing if you do not think my comedy is worthy, but as someone who has worked the club, even if just for one show, I should be accorded the dignity and respect of a response.  But the irony that this showed me is that to some clubs the most important person is the headliner and the least important person is any other comedian that is not headlining.  This feels more like a story of a bitter Hollywood writer than a middle stand up comedian, but comedy is becoming more Hollywood anyway so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the shit-eating-grin  has migrated to the heartland.

Now don’t get me wrong there are definitely some club that get good comedians booked for shows and take an interest in the overall quality of the show, not just the headliner.  But there are still a lot of terrible emcees and features out there for sure – and the message is “who cares?”  The same way a majority of Americans vote with their wallets when push comes to shove, clubs and audiences vote with the headliner

But this post is not without a slightly positive story.  I was booked to emcee shows for Patrice O’Neal at the DC Improv, which I just finished up Sunday.  It turns out he had requested me.  That felt great, to have one of the current giants of stand up comedy request me because he liked the job I did last August when I opened for him.  But despite my high opinion of my own comedy (and it is substantial) I might not have stood out or have been as memorable as an emcee if other clubs around the country were lining up solid emcees for their shows.  This exchange solidified to me that clubs are not putting a premium on developing emcees and features (if I were making an American analogy – this is the outsourcing of products to China or India, based solely on cost, regardless of quality or customer satisfaction, i.e. even Apple might not use China if every fifth iPod were broken).  I have travelled many clubs and I have seen a good share of awful emcees and features.  This is a travesty.  There are a lot of talented comedians out there who are not given financial incentive to travel by clubs, and many clubs have no desire to book quality out-of-town comedians because it might cost $100-$200 more per week than the local guy they have do jokes (when he is not making the mozzarella sticks in the back).

The people who suffer are audiences who want to see good comedy and are not, much like my observation in my recent Charlie Sheen post, just the fame hungry buffoons that are multiplying like Gremlins.  The good fans then learn to pursue only well-established comedians they like or ignore the club when they book famous people who are not funny.  But the no name people, trying to make a name for themselves through old fashioned stand up are not bookable acts because the club has established a tradition of not consistently booking funny people for the “no name” spots.  It is sort of a chicken-or-the-egg scenario, did clubs get lazy or did people get stupid first, but either way, it is hurting the grass roots of comedy.   Specific comedians will always have fans, but the business will only truly thrive if clubs foster fans of comedy, not just comedians.

The other people who suffer are comedians.  It is becoming harder, both due to volume of comedians and lack of nurturing on the part of the establishment to make a living being a feature act. In fact it is actually impossible.  So, instead of creating a new class of headliners through old fashioned work and opportunity you have comedians trying to become YouTube sensations or focus more on acting (www.YouTube.com/JLCauvin).  That way, when they have the fame, it won’t matter how good their stand up actually is – they will be headliners.   Simultaneously more and more headliners bring their own opening act, which further cuts down on opportunities for “freelance” comedians if you will.  Now I have seen a couple of comedians bring their own feature because they are dominated by insecurities and want to know the level of the feature so they can assure themselves that they can surpass it, but a majority bring their own feature because they do not seem to trust the clubs to book solid people in front of them.  And why should they?

I have been told that a few years ago some comedians in NYC tried to start a Union for comedians.  I guess it failed because you would need to have exactly the things that are lacking in America today:

1) The upper class would have to give a shit.  Bill Burr, Chris Rock, Dave Attell, etc. would have to be on the picket lines along with everyone else.  But they, rightfully so, would feel that they have paid their dues (some in a much more encouraging time for stand up) and would probably not.

2) People outside of the industry would have to give a shit.  Probably wouldn’t happen.  Not while Adam Sandler and Tyler Perry are still successful filmmakers.

3) Comedians would have to accept that the America Dream is a fantasy and not a blueprint of success.  Better pay and a higher standard of quality for emcee and feature performers would have a good impact because for a majority of comedians this is as high as they should aspire to.  It is not mathematically possible for all features to become headliners.  But if people continue to think that the corner office and the Greenwich house will be theirs eventually then they will never fight the fight that they are currently losing.  That is why so many blue collar people seem to be anti-Union and why so many comedians don’t seem to give a shit about the highway robbery that is occurring.

We have a society now where news organizations care about ratings above information, where companies care more about stock prices than workers and products and a comedy business that only cares about comedy when it is convenient.  Hopefully some of these things change.  This just in – I was just told that for my upcoming gigs in New Haven, CT I will be receiving a hotel room.  That was fast.

The F Word

I would admittedly never pass up an opportunity to say something bad about Kobe Bryant, and his usage of the word “faggot,” which was caught on camera during a Tuesday night basketball game gave me a good opportunity.   It was a heated moment for Bryant who had received a foul call and speaking about a referee said “Fucking faggot.”  On a somewhat related note, Nick DiPaolo once said, “Any white guy who claims to have never said nigger is either lying or never bet $1000 on an NBA game.”  So passion and poor words are not a novel connection in sports or comedy.  In response to the incident Bryant said:

“What I said last night should not be taken literally.  My actions were out of frustration during the heat of the game, period.  The words expressed do NOT reflect my feelings towards the gay and lesbian communities and were NOT meant to offend anyone.”

Like many a rapper and athlete before him, the common defense was, “I did not mean gay people or to offend gay people.”  But how is that any different than using the word nigger to describe someone’s conduct or appearance or using Jew as a verb to describe someone’s thrifty actions and then claiming that you were not trying to disparage those particular groups of people.  The word faggot is a word of hate.  Even if it is not used to describe a gay person, it is used as an insult because the connotation it carries is that you are less of a person because of what the word references.  Just because we have been comfortable with a particular piece of hate speech does not mean it should be allowed in regular conversation under some sort of grandfathered-in homophobia.  Even Chris Rock, my favorite comedian of all-time, failed on his last HBO special, in my opinion, to make a joke validating the usage of the w
But in our society, there is not the widespread guilt and shame over the word “faggot” as there is with “nigger.”  Therefore, defenses of the F word are what I imagine a defense of the N word would sound like in 1880 or 1960.
My stance on gay rights in this country is simple and has two basic parts.  I don’t believe any institution should be required to accept or acknowledge or conduct gay marriage, except for the government.  In my opinion, the government has no place in marriage.  If I ever get married I want it to be in a Catholic Church and that is where the value for it will be for me, not from a state certificate or tax forms.  BUT if the government feels that certain rights and privileges should be accorded to married people then it is completely absurd to exclude people from that.
Secondly, people may have the Constitutional right to say hurtful, ignorant and insulting things, but we should not tolerate it.  Our society’s general acceptance of the usage of the words “gay” or “fag” and “faggot” is deplorable.  Glee and Modern Family may have people “loving” gays (the same way music and sports have America “loving” black people), but we are still too lenient when it comes to condemning this hate speech.  In fifty years I may have views that make seem like some sort of closed-minded bigot, but fairness from the government and from fellow human beings doesn’t seem to be too much of a leap, except that it still is.  I think the NBA was right to fine Kobe because it was an embarrassing thing to have been observed.  And to those that may say, “Hey, lots of people say hurtful things and don’t get ostracized for it”  that is the price you pay for getting $20 million a year to play a game for your job.
I remember nine years ago getting into a pretty heated discussion with friends of mine.  We were watching a movie and one of my friends called someone a “fag” (for doing something like eating a certain type of sandwich or something mundane like that (and it was not a penis sandwich).  I then made a pretty strong point (thanks in part to Williams College – where I entered as someone who would occasionally use the word “fag” or “gay” to describe things, but left finding those words detestable.) that the word was hateful and I did not want to hear it.  The two responses from my friends were to ask “what the fuck had I learned up at Williams?” and “Was I gay?”  I would never make the claim to be mature, but hopefully at this point my friends have caught up to me at least on this point.  You needn’t be gay or a bleeding-heart liberal to defend decency towards gays.
Kobe would have done better to issue the following statement: “I apologize for the hurtful slur I used.  There is no place in decent society for that word or the sentiments it evokes.  I did not mean to offfend anyone, but I know that even the mere utterance is hateful, even if not said with any literal intention.”
Besides, with the amount of jewelery, fashion-obsession and dougie dancing in the NBA, Kobe may have offended deeply more of his peers than he realizes.

A Night In Wilkes-Barre

This weekend I featured on a one night show at Wisecrackers in Wilkes-Barre, PA which felt like Old Detroit in Robocop, but with fewer people.  It was a typical weekend of luxury in the life of a comedian: Martz Trailways round trip bus, fully equipped with stainless steel toilet (unless you count brown streak marks as “stains,”  a night in a double bed at a Best Western (No HBO – but who the fu*k do I think I am anyway) and a show in front of 30 people with a 2×1 sign on stage saying Wisecrackers (broken into two words because the sign was too small to accommodate the name of the club.

I arrived at the Wilkes Barre bus terminal at 620 pm, in plenty of time for the 9pm show.  Conveniently, the hotel was one block from the bus terminal so I did not have to walk far. The town had the look of an old west town that had been abandoned because of lack of water or the criminals were running the show.  It may have just been because I was in the municipal part of the town and being that it was Saturday everything was shut down except for the Rite Aid and McDonald’s (and the hotel “bar/nightclub,” which would also be where the continental breakfast would be served so you could get your date rape and french toast all within the same 500 square feet.
So for dinner, given the choice between Rite Aid and McDonald’s I opted for McDonald’s, where my height was greeted by bewildered children and adults alike.  I felt like Indiana Jones arriving in that impoverished town in India in Temple of Doom.  So after answering the question “How tall are you?” three times with the word “very,” I made my way back to the Best Western I noticed a fight at the Salvation Army next door.  I was intrigued because there appeared to be about 65 people getting out of some meeting of some kind and the few people yelling seemed like they were going to come to blows.  It was a white chick being held back by a black chick, while yelling at a black dude (sort of like an uglied up scene from Hustle and Flow).  Here is the conversation I heard:
White Woman: Oh yeah, oh yeah, then why did you fu*k me when you was fu*king her?
Black guy: What? When did I fu*k you?  When did I fu*k you?  When?  I never fu*ked you!
White Woman: You telling me you never fu*ked me!
Just then a woman with a 2 year old in a stroller walked by and we looked at each other smiling and I said, “Put the earmuffs on.”  At the time I assumed it would be the funniest thing I would say in Wilkes-Barre.
Conversation continued and all I heard as I turned the corner was,
Black Guy: Man, you lucky they here…

So having had the full tour of downtown Wilkes-Barre I was ready for the show.  Turns out that Wilkes-Barre was not ready for the show.  Only about 30 people showed up (which on the plus side was about half capacity for the tiny room).  But they turned out to be a really good crowd.  They laughed, they bought a few CDs and no one threw anything at me so it was a good time.   The only two disturbing things to happen at the club were only comedian related.
The first thing was that the emcee introduced me as having been “on Bill Maher” (which either means I was on Real Time or that I was doing drastic things to make it in comedy), but it was the headliner who had “opened for Bill Maher” (and since she was a woman I guess the same thing could be said for her).  The second thing was that while I was on stage the headliner got into a quiet argument with a young comedian, who was doing a guest spot, who was taking notes during my set.  He claimed to her that he was just working on his own set, and I have no reason to think otherwise,  but if I ever hear one of my jokes coming out of Pennsylvania there will be Clint Eastwood-Unforgiven level style of hell to pay.  But for your enjoyment here is one of the new bits I was working on Saturday night.

Grover And My Big Break In 2035

Last night I performed on two sets.  Each paid $0 dollars, but only cost me $11 in cab fare getting from one to the other, so it was a relatively big financial success given my track record in the comedy business.  But it was a night of good comedy for me because not only did I discover a  couple of new jokes, which is great news for the people of Wilkes-Barre, PA, who I will entertain for a net gain of $62 this Saturday (the comedic equivalent of swimming in gold coins a la Scrooge McDuck), but I also experienced something really weird on stage, which is good for blog stories.

Starting with the weirdness first.  I have been working out a joke on the Nigerian Sesame Street television program (actual tv program).  It is a solid premise, but is still giving me inconsistent results.  So last night at Dangerfield’s, as I was going through the joke (which I have told at three open mics and zero clubs u to that point), I noticed something had been thrown at me on stage.  The set had been going well, but I was baffled because I assumed when things are thrown at you on stage it is a bad thing (given the fact that I am not Tom Jones with a time machine back to the 1970s).  When I looked down it was a Grover doll.

A woman threw a Grover doll at me.  This threw me off in so many ways:

  1. Why does a woman in her late 30s have a Grover doll?
  2. Why does a woman in her late 30s have a Grover doll on her?
  3. What are the odds that in a crowd of 20 people at a comedy show that one person will have a Sesame Street doll?
  4. Why did this person throw the doll at me?

Well it was strange, but it allowed me to fill up 500 words of a blog today (self-imposed deadline of Thursday for me).  But that was just one discovery for me yesterday (and the woman asked for the doll back after the show, which I thought was sort of rude).  But what would a blog by me be without examining the future of my comedy with a bleak outlook.  Well, thanks to a joke that I did off the cuff (because I am witty) I now know when I will make it in comedy.  This is sort of like the dilemma of knowing when you are going to die.  Some people would want to know and others would not.  Unfortunately I now know that I will be a big star in comedy in the year 2035.

While on stage last night I decided to go off script and discussed how Hollywood is only ready for one uncomfortably tall comedy person every 30 years.  Now if you are a short, bearded guy there is work for you every eighteen seconds right now.  If you are gay or a bitch or a gay bitch there is a reality show actually waiting for you to show up to right now.  But exceptionally tall people come along in comedy with a frequency somewhere between the arrival of the cicadas and Halley’s Comet.  Here is the accidental fortune telling I did during my set:

“Hollywood allows one giant freak in comedy about every 30 years .  We had Fred Gwynne – The Munsters freak, then we got Brad Garrett, the Everybody Loves Raymond freak,  so I guess I will make it sometime around my 60th birthday.”

The joke got a good reaction, but I decided to research it.  Turns out I may be right.

Fred Gwynne was 6’5″ and born in 1926, which was like being 7’2″ in today’s cow-hormone gorging population.  He hit it big with The Munsters, which aired between 1964 and 1966.

Then in 1996 a show began on Everybody Loves Raymond that starred the world’s largest Jewish dude (aside from Dolph and his underachieving son Danny Schayes – former NBA players), but who changed his name – so look out for Charlie Sheen’s next Chuck Lorrie-esque screed or rant to be aimed at Brad Garrett.

That was a 30 year gap.  And with Everybody Loves Raymond lasting until 2005, that means that my Tall Comedy Freak Theory dictates that I will hit it big in 2035 at the age of 56.  But that is no guarantee because I, unlike Fred Gwynne and Brad Garrett, do not have a pituitary condition (I don’t have medical records, but those two had/have long faces and very deep voices).

So by 2035 I guess I will have to finally be content with the direction of my comedy career.  Either that or you will be watching a sitcom starring Georghe Muresan.

Charlie Sheen – The Comedy America Deserves

The Twitterverse has been buzzing with Charlie Sheen’s terrible comedy performance last night in Detroit (seriously hasn’t that city suffered enough?).  Well, apparently the “My Violent Torpedo of Truth/Defeat is Not an Option” was not the groundbreaking comedy experience that so many stupid, fame-hungry, comedy-ignorant people were hoping for.  But, just like the Rolling Stones said, they may not have gotten what they wanted, but they got what they needed.  Or at least deserved.  OK, so that is not exactly a Rolling Stones song anymore.  Just keep reading.

For me, the Charlie Sheen tour represents a new low for comedy in America, but also something else: it is the convergence of that low with America’s morbid new pastime: voyeuristic fascination with self-destruction.

Starting with comedy, his tour sold out across America because of a series of bizarre (and admittedly quite funny – both intentionally and unintentionally) interviews he did following his firing from CBS’ “comedy” Two and a Half Men.  Well, mainstream America never had the most sophisticated sense of humor, but several things in the last several years have further eroded that sense of humor.  From America’s Home Videos (I will admit – I enjoyed it when I was 10) to YouTube, ridicule and bodily harm have increasingly replaced nuance and creativity as the humor America responds to.  Shots to the nuts have made Adam Sandler and Kevin James bankable movie stars and when people turn to their computers they seem more likely to laugh at someone’s expense than at someone’s creativity.

Couple that with America’s increasing, almost faith-based devotion to famous people, irrespective of talent or quality, and you have the two main ingredients in the recipe that is hurting comedy.  One of my favorite comments I received from a fan in Iowa last month was, “You guys were great and I had never heard of you.  Last month I came with my girlfriend to see Pauly Shore and he sucked.”  That was just one man’s opinion, but it illistrates something larger that I see in comedy.  Comedy clubs, like much of corporate America, are increasingly more concerned with the bottom line at the expense of the quality of their product and the workers that provide it.   Clubs are more than willing to bring in acts like Pauly Shore, largely on name recognition alone because they will fill seats.  However, what happens is that clubs continue to bring in acts solely on name recognition, so they continue to draw reality show, fame-hungry morons to their clubs, but the real, substantive comedy fans stop going, except to see acts they already know.  Comedians in my position are reliant on real comedy fans to build their base.  People who like famous people will not come to see me perform.  People who are real comedy fans and looking to find new voices and new perspectives will, but they cannot if they stay home because they have been turned off by the Steve-Os of the world.

So Charlie Sheen represents the apex of these trends in comedy: fame-hungry people who laugh at train wrecks.  But there is a more insidious side to these crowds as well.

I was recently watching an ESPN 30 For 30 documentary about June 17, 1994.  It was a day with an incredible mix of high profile sporting events, but the overwhelming headliner of the day was the infamous White Bronco Chase featuring a suicidal OJ Simpson.   I remember sitting in a hotel in Evanston, Ill. for my brother’s college graduation watching the Knicks-Rockets NBA finals game with my Patrick Ewing-worshipping family and being interrupted by the car chase.  But what I did not realize at the time, but was made clear from the documentary, was that was the turning point for American popular culture.  If there is any moment where our voyeurism hit an awful point of no return it was that car chase.  People were stopping their cars on highways in LA to watch the chase and every news network was covering it.  I believe that it was simply with the hope of catching a suicide of a famous person on camera.  It was intense, but it was also shameless and disgusting.  If a no-name serial killer were fleeing they would not have covered it so intensely, but to see a famous person flee justice and maybe kill himself – what a rare chance on television!

Fast forward – reality television now features people having sex on camera (Real World, Jersey Shore), people dying (Deadliest Catch and the new reality show “Coal” which is less “appreciate the working man” and more “hopefully we can see poor people die or get in dangerous situations”), and just generally elevating and tearing down insignificant people.

Well, once again Charlie Sheen is at the peak of this as well.  He is a drug-addicted, crazy ego maniac.  People tune in to him to see him rant, but also to possibly see him self-destruct fatally.

Charlie Sheen represents the combination of the worst trends in comedy and in our popular culture.  And after raising him up, people are now eager to boo him and act as if they are not getting exactly what they paid for.  Because if there is a national pastime in this country it is not baseball or football; it is raising someone up beyond where they should be and then tearing them down to lower than they deserve to be.  And now I am sure all the “comedy fans” who have tickets to upcoming Sheen shows are already rationalizing  their purchase by saying – “I hear he sucks.  I can’t wait to boo the dude!”

I feel the same way about people who go to see Charlie Sheen’s tour that I do about people who vote for Sarah Palin.  If you support it then you, more than anyone, actually deserve to get what you want.  Good luck to everyone with tickets.

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The Hangover Effect

If you read this blog you belong to a few select groups of people:

1) You are a comedian that enjoys a well-worded stream of misery.

2) You are a regular person that enjoys a well-worded stream of misery.

3) You are my mom.

One of the things I have taken both pride in and offense to is how fellow comedians have characterized my blog.  A friend repeatedly tells me that my blog makes him feel better about his comedy, basically because I represent the floor of human emotion when it comes to comedy.  Another comedian told me that when he reads my blog, it feels like he is reading the words of a man alone in a cabin on top of a windy, snow-capped mountain.  And then it dawned on me, comedy has so many bad things about it that I may have to be done with it, in spite of my pleasure in writing and telling jokes.    Comedy is like the best sex in the world with the worst person on Earth.  Ladies, it would be like finding out the greatest sex you ever had was with Adolph Hitler.  Men, it would be like the greatest sex in your life being with Kathy Griffin.  I will try to keep this under 5,000 words, but if I don’t, just pretend it is an article from the New Yorker on what it is like being a no-name comedian in NYC.  So here are the things that are crushing my love of comedy.

Comedy Is About Characters, Not Comedy

I have dubbed what I see in comedy as “The Hangover Effect.”  The 4 main comedic elements of the Hangover, were as follows:

  • The crazy man – Alan (Zach Galifianakis – the guy with the beard)
  • The nerd – Stu (Ed Helms)
  • The cover boy/douchebag (Bradley Cooper)
  • Ethnic Goof – Ken Jeong

The Hangover was wildly successful (not to mention very funny), but it either culminated or represented a dangerous trend (at least in my opinion) in comedy: the increasing compartmentalization of comedy into different archetypes.  Every ensemble comedy cast (not to mention each episode of Live At Gotham) appears to have a bearded wild man (spouting non sequiturs or off the wall comments a plus), a nerd, someone telegenic (often a good place to squeeze in a female comic) and some sort of ethnic grab bag that often, but certainly not always, feeds into Middle America’s sensibilities.

Now I am all for diversity of style and voice in comedy and I believe ethnic (and to a lesser degree, gender) diversity will flow naturally from that desire to hear different voices and styles.  But more and more I get a feeling that movies like The Hangover have ushered in a new development for what people want (and what they will be given) in comedy in general (not just comedy films) – funny will get trumped by type.  This does not fit for the already established acts in comedy, but for up and coming comedians I think it may apply.  As a test – check the upcoming  Summer movie “Bridesmaids.”  I’m sure it was pitched as “The Hangover for women!”  but like the WNBA, women may dig that, but most men will not.  But, if by some minor miracle, it is a success, look for that to become the barometer for female comedians.  There is a fat, overly sexed character featured prominently in the preview.  If the movie is a success and that character is the break out character/actress then I suggest all the female comedians start stuffing their faces with food.

Social Media

Being in comedy, means having to dive headfirst into the emotional wasteland of social media.  I use it to post jokes, post info about gigs or comedy videos I have done and occasionally on issues of some social relevance.  But being a comedian immersed in social media is like showering in prison – you have to do it, but you constantly feel violated.

I honestly believe that how many likes and comments you can consistently generate is inversely proportional to how intelligent you and your friends are.  I don’t mean for things like “I’m on The Tonight Show” or “I got married,” but rather for things like “My dick just murdered Lady Gaga.” (LMFAO).

Beyond comedy, my wing of the Social Media Prison, I think the amount of people incapable of keeping feelings to themselves is downright frightening.  I once posted a joke on a woman’s comment to which she responded, “I don’t know what that means, but seriously today is not the day!”  Ok, well here is a suggestion – keep your feelings to yourself – if they are so powerful and important why are you posting them on the same place where you describe “yummy salads” and pop songs you like?  Facebook is like a club where I thought people went to have fun, but half the people are on the dance floor only to feel like someone cares about them.

And if you are friends with comedians you probably receive 50 invites to shows a week.  When I invite people to my monthly show I do it individually (takes a lot longer), but to ensure that the only people invited (unless I make a mistake) are in the city of the show and either performing on the show or non-comedians who may show up as audience.  But that is the professionally courteous thing to do, which, like basic social graces, is something foreign to many comedians.

And lastly, I know I write a blog and I tweet, but I am a good writer and capable of funny remarks.  Given the sheer volume of bloggers and tweeters I am in the minority in both.  And without fame credentials I am merely lumped in with the rest of the no-name illiterates out there.  As Groucho Marx said, “I would never want to be a member of any club that would have me as a member.”

Comedy – The Most Hypocritical of the Arts

Comedians are the first to bash awards shows for being pretentious, self-congratulatory and useless.  And yet, every time you turn around there is a new awards show for comedy or comedy related matters.  And the pandering for these things is relentless and like the MTV Awards or Wrestlemania, time will simply bestow a legitimacy on the awards that they never deserved.  It reminds me of an “alternative (barf)” comedian who I was recently reminded of that will say “I’m not going to say I look like a combination of blank and blank.”  Now the laughs he receives are not for his meta-approach to comedy, mocking anyone who has ever made a look-a-like joke but rather, are for the resemblance itself.  But the comedian will entertain the fantasy that people “get what he is about.”

Comedians love to talk about art and pretending like they are all Bill Hicks disciples that would never sell out.  But if you have ever attended an open mic where a comedian with some heat is doing five minutes the ball-licking laughter is unbearable.  Comedians cannot wait to attach themselves to the “next hot thing,” just like any desperate actress in Hollywood would.  But somehow no one has misconceptions or undue respect for the actress and what she does to get ahead.

Then there are the comedy journalists, who remind me of famous sports journalists.  When a journalist is too close to the subjects or wants to be part of the world they cover (or at least have access to that world) they are no longer a journalist and are now just a cheerleader.  It is sort of like a reporter’s equivalent of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle – once you get too close to a subject you can no longer effectively report on it.  For example, I am a huge fan of Michael Wilbon of ESPN, except when he is discussing certain athletes.  In those cases he becomes a fan and is no longer credible, which had deleterious effects of his coverage of Tiger Woods, Ben Roethlisberger and Michael Vick, to name a few.  But imagine if Wilbon’s access to ESPN events was contingent on him being only positive about everything in sports and only covering the already industry-approved stars and trends.  Then you would have the comedy writers.  When access, and not truth is your main objective then a lot will be left out.  Never a word about bringers, open casting calls or any other myriad of fraudulent practices in comedy.  How about something about how feature acts have been getting paid the same thing for about 20 years now – is there any other business where an employee’s pay has not been adjusted in 20 years?  Or about the fact that one of the major industry showcases is skewed towards searching “character” based comedians (I don’t think The Hangover Theory is that off)?  Off course not, because criticism of these thing might mean fewer free tickets.

Good Things Happen To Bad People

I remember in 6th grade seeing some students cheat on a quiz and I was not a snitch (because in wealthy private schools “snitches get… fewer rides in Mercedes Benz cars from their friends’ parents”), but I remember complaining to my mom.  And she told me a terrible lie.  She said “eventually it will catch up to them.”  Anyone who knows someone who works in finance knows that this is a horrible lie.  In America if you are rich and you flaunt the rules, you often times, just get richer.

Several years ago (I think it was about 34 years ago), I had booked Craig Ferguson and told a more established comedian this.  My thinking was not one of arrogance because the other comedian was much further along in their career and accolades, but it was sort of a response to a comment.  Well, a few minutes later this comedian was bashing me to some other comedians (that I knew and respected) behind my back (my girlfriend at the time overheard).  Well that comedian, with his insecurites and ill will is now a pretty big deal.  And I am still touting Ferguson as my only substantial credit.  I feel like Woody Allen could write a movie about it called “Way Too Late With Craig Ferguson.”

Comedy Leaves You Lonely

Of all the highs and lows that I have had from comedy over the last 8 years, the lowest may have occurred last Friday.  I was at the wedding of my oldest friend (known him 26 of my 31 years).  This is a guy who visited me in college,only to see me ride the bench for a basketball game.  This is a guy who visited me in law school down in DC.  This is also a guy who had the guts to voice concerns (and speak to my family) that my engagement of a few years ago was a disaster waiting to happen (it was the relationship equivalent of the financial collapse of 2008 – and he saw it coming a mile away).  But ever since moving back to NYC from law school, more and more nights, that could have been spent socializing were spent in basements writing and telling jokes for a profession that is, in many ways, dying as hard as print journalism.  Eventually I stopped getting asked to do 95% of stuff and my requests for comedy support went largely unanswered until I found myself at the miscellaneous table at the wedding of my oldest friend.  And worst of all, for someone who enjoys complaining and finding the wrong in others, I have to own up to the fact that I have made the choice to pursue comedy ahead of other things that should matter more and the blame lies with me.

So like a degenerate gambler I continue to double down on comedy, but now it is clear that I don’t have much left to gamble with.  So I will keep writing and complaining and performing, but for the first time in 8 years I am genuinely looking for something else to do with my life besides comedy.  Maybe I will start a rock band.  That can’t be too difficult.  All I need is a Mac, an autotune machine and some angry, real musician to bitch about how I am ruining music.

March Madness: The Infuriating Inconsistency of Cleveland Crowds

Last week I wrapped up two weeks in the Midwest with 4 days of performances at the Cleveland Improv.  The Cleveland Improv has a new gorgeous location (I would rank it the second nicest club I have seen in the country behind the Chicago Improv), which is located right next to Christies, a large strip club, which made it a convenient place to take a break for two strippers on Saturday, thus answering the question of  “where do strippers go for a break when they want to feel better about themselves?”

Now at every other club I work or have worked in the country I have featured (the middle act that does about 30 minutes per show, gets paid a little bit more than the emcee, and gets paid a lot less than the headliner), but the Cleveland Improv has put me through a year of emcee work, as if it is the mail room at an Entertainment agency.   There are somethings that have made this a particularly interesting experience:

  • I have been on several “paper” shows in Cleveland (an experience only exceeded by my “shows” in Birmingham, Alabama a few years ago).  “Paper” shows are the shows, either on low volume nights or with non-famous headliners, where the club offers free admission to people to get a crowd in (they still have to order their two drinks).  So what happens on these nights is you get a diverse audience with a dozen different comedic sensibilities (stupid often runs through many of them), whose only common denominator is that they like free tickets to things.  This is the flour in our cake recipe for infuriating shows.
  • Cleveland Improv school of thought.  There are three schools of thought to booking shows that clubs employ. Here they are for comparison:
  1. The Complimentary Lineup – this is where the emcee, the feature and the headliner are not carbon copies, but their styles are almost guaranteed to please the audience – in other words if you like the headliner, then you will probably be pleased with the other two comedians.
  2. The Contrast Style (the Cleveland Improv technique) – this is where the emcee, the feature and the headliner all offer something different.  This can have a great payoff if the crowd is open to different styles, but can, more often than not, turn into the comedic equivalent of an ambush in a war zone when, like a show I did last year, the headliner is a famous Def Jam comedian (meaning he brings a Def Jam crowd that ONLY likes Def Jam comedy) and the feature is a clean comedian from Iowa whose closer involves an Avril Lavigne reference.  Let the chorus of “Boo Nigga Boo!!!!!” begin!
  3. The Who Just E-Mailed Me technique – this is the one I am convinced some bookers use, which is basically enie meenie minie moe on e-mail when you cannot figure how a club put together a lineup.

So I featured on Thursday, as my audition to feature at the club and had an excellent set.  It was literally the best set I had had in Cleveland in 20 shows.  Of course I would not have a great set again until Sunday.  There were many awkward moments during the shows.  Here are the top 3:

  1. I told the following joke (part of a larger bit) 6 times during the week: “You’d never get a store called ‘Big and Tall’ for women because they’re too sensitive.  So instead they get ‘Lane Bryant’ which seems nice, but it isn’t once you realize the initials for Lane Bryant are lb.”  Now you may not think that is a funny quip (it is is not the big payoff of the joke), but here is why 4 of the 6 Cleveland crowds were dumb – no one laughed at the line.  But then I said “And of course LB is short for pound” and those 4 crowds erupted in laughter.  So it was not that they did not like the joke; they didn’t make the connection that LB was the abbreviation for pound.  That told me everything I needed to know.  I was not Dennis Miller making a reference to an obscure 18th century painting to prove why Obama’s foreign policy is a failure – it was one of our main units of measurement.
  2. I got heckled on the 1015 show on Friday.  He told me to “tell some jokes” 10 minutes into my 15 minute set.  Needless to say he was not laughing at the LB reference.
  3. Upon leaving the showroom I began verbally destroying Cleveland crowds for their stupidity and the collective pussiness of white crowds who are scared to tell a black heckler to shut the fu*k up (but they ALWAYS have the comedian’s back if it is a drunk white chick heckling as they did on the 8pm show Friday).  Then a white woman from the 8 pm show who was at the bar with her husband and was laughing at my tirade came up to me and said, “Look on the bright side you are still white.”  I looked at her and said, “Did you not hear my routine?”  And she replied, “But for this room you are white, so you still have that.”  And that is my quandary with America – who do I side with – dumb black people or dumb white people?

See you next time around Cleveland.  Just know that I may not enjoy it either.

Best and Worst Fan Mail – Des Moines’ Fairwell…

Normally I like to save my posts on this site to praise or destroy different things, but outside of the South I don’t think I have ever discussed comedy fans negatively.  But this week I would like to discuss comedy fans or, more specifically, a comedy fan.  I was in Des Moines, Iowa last week performing at the Funny Bone. The crowds were great, even though most left the club after as if they were trying beat Usain Bolt’s record in the 100 meters.   However, one fan made me feel particularly flattered and simultaneously scared for my safety.

I usually don’t do “story telling,” but this sequence was too special to not share.  So here is a little insight into my comedy life on the road and the closest I may ever get to feeling like a rock star with a stalker.  It may be my favorite thing I have ever done on stage – feel free to send to any comedy fan (or any comedians you know).

Some emails of hers were accidentally omitted, but the final one I received (after my set) was priceless.  I walked near the bar by the club to see if she was there (never went in), because I still had a suspicion that it was a joke by the emcee.  Well she was there and when I returned to the club after my reconnaissance mission I received another brief e-mail exchange:

Pretty/Sad/Potentially Psycho Fan: I saw you outside are you coming in?

Me: Oh you did?  I was looking to see if the pizza place was open.  I can’t.  Our ride for the hotel is leaving now.  Thanks for coming to the show.

PSPPF: Pizza?  You could have had pussy fag.

Even when they like you in comedy, they hate you.

Des Moines Journal: Bodily Reactions

So it has been a long road of recovery since the first moments of my time in Des Moines, when my life flashed before my eyes while at the Mecca of awful food, Arby’s.   So far four shows are down, with three to go before I retun to NYC.   And they have not disappointed.

Wednesday I was starting to get sick, which should not be a surprise since I traveled from NYC to Des Moines via 19 hour Amtrak ride to Chicago, followed by a 6 hour bus ride from Chicago to Des Moines.   Escaping that trip without some sort of illness would make me a David Dunn-level character, so it is good to know that I, like most human beings am susceptible to catching things from train cars full of barefoot, obese people trying to avoid TSA.

So my performance Wednesday was probably a B+.  The crowd seemed sort of entertained and I sold 1 CD, but I got to experience that awesome feeling every comedian loves – I stood by the door with my CDs and complimentary cards (with all my web info) on a table and the crowd largely rushed out like I was exposing my dick to a 2nd grade classroom.  This happens plenty of times and it never stops feeling awkward.  People I saw laughing their asses off basically turned into Usain Bolt when the passed the table at the end of the show.   Also, early week crowds tend to be free ticket-type crowds so they are just there to distract themselves and if you are not a famous person they have no interest in you, your CDs or your stupid cards.

Thursday was basically the same thing, but for two differences: I sold no CDs on Thursday and a male patron sh*t his pants.  I’d like to think this was due to my comedy, but apparently the customer simply drank himself into defecating.

Friday shows were interesting.  I sold 3 CDs on the first show, but I felt like the crowd largely hated my guts.  It might be my imagination, but the early crowd (730pm) made me feel like I was a jazz trio in the corner providing background for their dinner and drinks.  And for the first time during the week I got several people who felt like sharing their opinions during several jokes – right as I was about to deliver the punchline.  Also, I finally got an unsolicited “BOO” when I mentioned President Obama in a non-political joke.  After the show, an interracial couple (black guy, white woman) bought my CD/DVD and gave me a $20 (I charge $10) and told me to keep the change because they “appreciate what I do.”  I could not tell if they were doing that because they loved my comedy, if they feel a connection to me because they hope their kids turn out like me, or if they just felt bad for me for being a lawyer-turned-comedian, knowing that homeless crazy person is the next stop on my downward spiral of life.  Whatever the reason, thanks.

The second show Friday was fu*king awesome.  Probably one of the best sets I have ever had – it was a young crowd, but more importantly it felt like a real comedy crowd – the type of crowd that loves good comedy.  Before the show a guy was telling me he saw Rob Schneider and he sucked so he was looking forward to seeing the show because his experience coming to shows was that the less famous comedians tend to be better than the famous names the club brings in (meaning famous for non-stand up reasons).  And after my set, one of the people who bought the CDs said that he had seen Pauly Shore at the club and that he sucked.  It was good to see that in stand up comedy, which feels like it is dying the way of print journalism, there are still real comedy fans who are not just star- hungry goobers, but actually appreciate real stand up, even if it is coming from a no-name comedian.

After my set, before the headliner went up, an older woman who was at the show with her family came up to me and said “You are the best comedian I have ever seen at this club.  We all absolutely loved it!”  So I was feeling great and figured I’d sell well after.   I sold 6 CDs after the show and got to meet a lot of good comedy fans, but then something awful happened.  There was a woman crying and vomiting all over the bathroom – like Exorcist-style, minus the green coloring.  Here is the evidence, in case you are eating lunch or dinner right now:

And who was the person exploding in tears and puke?  The woman who told me I was the best comedian she had ever seen at the club.  Apparently, the party never ends for people in Des Moines, even 55 year-old women.  So I probably will no longer use her comment as a fan testimonial.  Probably not very reliable.  And no, she did not buy a CD.

Arby’s Is a Huge Piece of Sh*t

Well, I hoped to write my first blog of the week tomorrow about Charlie Sheen, but due to emergency circumstances I have to write today.  I arrived at the Microtel (the actual name of my hotel)in Des Moines this afternoon.  Despite the quite comfy accommodations, I was hoping to be near a shopping mall or at least a strip mall, but instead I am across a highway from a gas station.  The only two eateries near me and that won’t get me killed traversing a highway are Ruby Tuesdays (can’t eat every lunch and dinner there – I’m not made of money!) and Arby’s.

As I write this I just finished a “meal” at Arby’s.  It was the second time I have ever been to an Arby’s because, like the first time, I was compelled to by lack of access to another cheap restaurant or a bag of garbage.  I went in, starving and saw that I was the only one there.  I looked around to make sure there was not a hostage situation or something going on and then I realized it was worse than that – the cashier was a Western European Unibrow chick with limited English skills and even more limited Arby’s skills.  And she was a trainee.   If she was at least a south of the border immigrant I could deal with that because I have enough exposure to them in NYC, but this chick felt alien to me.

So 54 minutes after placing my order I got my meal and Unibrow gave me a knife and fork, possibly for my soda, or however they eat in Unibrowistan.  If you do not know about Arby’s they are the fast food franchise that lost a bet and were forced to dedicate themselves to the roast beef sandwich.  As the fry accompaniment they have decided to go with curly fries.  Here are the problems with this:

  • Roast beef, unlike hamburgers cannot be replicated to resemble their best product outside the fast food context.  A Burger King hamburger is still tasty, even if they use chemicals to get there, but Arby’s awful, slimy, undercooked roast beef will never come within 1000 miles of a Boar’s Head roast beef sandwich from a deli.  They add some awful cheddar cheese and a watery bbq sauce (I think that is what it was).
  • They dedicated their whole store to this awful “raost beef.”  By comparison, Chic Fil-A dedicated themselves to preventing gay marriage and chicken – a much more versatile meat product for fast food purposes.  They also added the under-used but excellent waffle fries to get privide support to the chicken, which brings me to Arby’s 2nd flaw…
  • Curly fries suck.  They were cool in college when the dining hall or snack bar would surprise you, just for variety, but they suck.  Curly fries were the highlight of this awful meal, however, so it was like Brook Lopez on the pre-Deron Williams Nets, a player getting his because of the terrible circumstances he found himself in.

And for the next 5 days I will be held hostage by Arby’s.  There is nothing around here.  It is like I am Johnny Fontaine and Arby’s in Woltz, the producer who denied him work in The Godfather out of spite.  I am surrounded by fields and highways.  I guess I will have to stick a horse’s head in Unibrow chick’s bed to get another cheap restaurant around here.