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Proof of Evolution (Or Intelligent Design): Blake Griffin vs.…

Thanks to the constant reminders I have received from comedian/actor/Disney music enthusiast Chris Lamberth (@ChrisLamberth) I have learned that I have officially been replaced in comedy before I had even reached the level of replaceable.  I always believed that I would carve out a unique niche in comedy, at least demographically – a 6’7″ (241 lbs playing, 270 lbs doing comedy), bi-racial comedian seemed like a pretty safe calling card.  Unfortunately, my reign of obscurity was short lived because Blake Griffin (a 6’10”, 250 pound bi-racial dude), the Los Angeles Clippers power forward, has also proven himself quite adept at humor.  And thanks to the NBA lockout he is now working at Funny or Die, probably hanging out with Will Ferrell, workshopping new ideas, perhaps getting himself a role in Step Brothers 2, etc.  Even though Evolution usually takes a long time, much like this Summer’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes, I am seeing myself improved upon right before my eyes.

The Evolution of the Multi-Racial Humorist

I was born in 1979, 9 years and 11 months before Blake Griffin so I had a good head start on comedy.  However I started performing stand up shortly after my 24th birthday, whereas Blake Griffin made it on to comedy central shortly after his 22nd birthday.  Fairly impressive since he was also spending time being the NBA’s Rookie of the Year.

We have similar backgrounds.  We both have black fathers and white mothers.  We both played basketball in high school and college (I averaged 15 points a game senior year in a terrible private school league.  He slightly one-upped me by being a McDonald’s High School All-American).  He was Division I’s college player of the year, I was a 9th man on a Division III team.

After reading his NBA draft workout summaries the only thing I think I was his equal to was bench press, but he complemented that with a tremendous vertical leap, each inch of which represented every one of my collegiate points scored.

It was as if God had created me and then said, we can do better.  A lot better.

Before we get into comedy here are the top dunks of our basketball careers.  Both were on people.  Mine was not filmed by NBA TV.  And I only had one in my career.

Now for pure drama I would argue that mine was better.  The dunk took place with about two minutes left in my entire college career.  I had scored about fifty career points and none had come from dunks.  It was sort of like the ending of Rudy, when Rudy gets a sack, except I actually was big and strong and fairly athletic so it was a little more expected from me.  And no one was chanting my name.  But Blake Griffin’s dunk was slightly better.  So much so that I featured it in my dunk workshop spoof video.

Comedy Origins

After college I went to Georgetown Law Center, the #14 law school in the country (turning down Michigan, the #7 school at the time, in sort of a Kobe Bryant-draft style move).  After college Blake Griffin was the #1 pick in the NBA draft.  And during both experiences our professional comedy careers began.  Deeply depressed I began doing comedy in Washington D.C. as an escape from law school and the pressures of a long-distance relationship.  Blake began doing comedy sketches and making late night television appearances to escape from the pressures of having beautiful women in Los Angeles throw themselves at him.

Once again God watched my comedy career struggles and said, “I made him funny, but he is not accomplishing what I thought he would.  I can do better and easier.”  Here are our comedy debuts on television:

I wrote all my own material, but Griffin proved to have some good natural talent.  And he got on Comedy Central within his first year, and without having to grow a beard or tits.  I have yet to be on that station.

Where To Go When You Find Out Evolution Has Passed You By

Blake Griffin has now raised the bar very high for basketball playing-comedians. In fact this whole post may actually be an endorsement for Intelligent Design and not Evolution.  Either way I have been rendered completely irrelevant  (versus fairly irrelevant which was the status in comedy that I had grown comfortable with).  So perhaps I will just wait for Blake Griffin to really blow up as a comedy presence and then present myself as the “Alt Blake Griffin.”  While you ponder that, here are two pictures of us looking cool in our element for one final comparison:

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Doing The Same Thing And Expecting A Different Result:…

It is hard to believe it has been one year since I lost to Myq Kaplan at Caroline’s in the Final Four of March Comedy Madness 2009.  The road to the championship each year for its first three years has gone through me.  Year one, I lost to Julian McCullough in the Sweet 16, who went on to win the title.  One month later my brother named his second son Julian. Coincidence?

The next year I lost to Liz Miele, who is the girlfriend of Reese Waters, in the Elite 8. Liz did not win the whole thing, but Reese did, so close enough.

And last year I lost to Myq Kaplan, who won the whole thing, in the Final Four, and has since gone on to be on The Tonight Show.  So basically my comedy career has turned into the equivalent of Jennifer Aniston’s vagina: once you have been through me, greater success for you or those close to you is all but assured.

Last night I felt so tired on my way to Comix.  I had already resigned myself to not winning, but seeing someone beat me and attain new success.  I was also exhausted from a day of watching Six Feet Under (great show).  But when I got to Comix (the sight of March Comedy Madness this year) I felt the competitive juices and hope stirring again.  The crowd was buzzing and looking good, (the only comedy club in the meatpacking district, Comix audience members tend to be a hybrid of comedy club goers and women you’d fu-k if your father ran a hedge fund. At least that is what I usually see when I am slaving around in Ochi’s – Comix’s alternative venue in the basement, where I rant and rave, while feeling like my comedy career is Sloth from The Goonies).

Well when I got on stage my jokes all hit exactly as expected (but I had to go first, which meant when the audience votes, my competitor gets last licks, so they can measure how I do and try to do better).  My competitor got a nice reaction from the crowd, but when the voting occurred, something unexpected happened: a tie.  Then after another round of applause voting, another tie.

Now in every college basketball run to the title, there is always a clutch play that allows the eventual champion to continue playing.  Tyus Edney is still the one that comes to mind in 1995 for UCLA.  Well, due to the tie, we had to do a 30 second joke-off. And like Mariano Rivera out of the bullpen for the Yankees, I dropped my Obama impression for 30 seconds, which saved the day.

So now, after a year of recovery from the bitterness and rage that always consumes me after I lose or miss out on anything (I put a friend on two weeks video game suspension when he beat my In NBA Live and did not offer an immediate rematch) I am back and ready to make someone the next champion of March Comedy Madness.  Next Wednesday at 930 pm at Comix I square off against Alex Grubard.  Could he be headed for The Tonight Show, Comedy Central or a intimate relationship with the next winner?  You have to be there to see it.

Essential J-L Reader

Comedy: A Love Story

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

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

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

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

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

Believe (Almost) No One

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s The Matter With Comics?

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

Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

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

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

New York’s Funniest Reject?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Audition Week Over

 

Now a week off til the 30th birthday.

 

Going to keep this brief as I soak up some Sun after a stressful, but successful week in the world of struggling comedy.

Monday, as I wrote, I had an audition at Zanies in Chicago.  It went well and like all things in comedy that go well, I have no idea if I will ever work at the club.  I will keep my calendar posted if I get any news on that.

Tuesday was an audition at Gotham Comedy Club and I got some great feedback, from the person evaluating me, a former SNL star who did a guest spot, and from a potential groupie.

Finesse Mitchell (former SNL star) came up to me after my set and said, “I enjoyed that.”  That was nice that he came and told me that, but what I really enjoyed was watching the tape of the performance the next day and hearing his distinctive laugh over the crowd at the joke that can be summed up by one name, “Kobe.”

I was also approached by a girl after the show who I took for a fan of my comedy until she had a friend slip me her number as they were leaving.  Numerous problems with this.

  • I am spoken for.
  • In addition to her phone number she wrote: “Colombian and Puerto Rican”, “Thick and sexy”, and “volupcious” – which I believe is either a mispelling of voluptuous or how one velociraptor describes another velociraptor that it finds attractive.

 

I wanted to save the number and post in a comedy book, the way diners, barber shops and other small businesses post their first few dollar bills that they ever made, but I decided against it.

Wednesday was my audition for Live at Gotham (Comedy Central Show).  It was the third time I have auditioned for the show.  This was by far my best set of the three.  Even if I don’t get it I am actually really proud of the set I had.  So in a young career that has been marked by choking at numerous auditions it was good to go 3 for 3, even if I don’t see a dime (but I hope that’s not the case).

And if the week needed any more good news Matt Geraud was saved by Simon Cowell last night.  Even if he does not win (which unless Adam Lambert blows Simon Cowell on a live broadcast, he won’t) it is awesome to see a guy who is so un-Hollywood doing well on the show.

Unless there is big news to report I probably won’t write much until the eve of my 30th birthday (next Friday if you want to do any shopping).

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I Am Pitching A New Reality Show For Bravo

It’s called “Chris Brown Beats Up The Women On  Bravo Television Shows”

If Bravo were a bar it would be a place where shallow women and shallow gay men could meet and discuss the lives of other shallow women and shallow men, both straight and gay.  Unfortunately it is a television channel that sometimes shows women with nice bodies and on my way from CNN to Comedy Central I am sometimes distracted – the same way an episode of The Bunny Ranch or Real Sex on HBO can sometimes derail me on my way to finding real programming.

Well I recently caught a few episodes of Millionaire Matchmaker, the genius show on Bravo that tries to match millionaires who are either ugly dudes with incredible arrogance/douchebagginess or decent looking dudes with no social skills with women in Los Angeles who, get this, are willing to date millionaires.  The matchmaker on the show claims to have a 99% success rate.  Why not 100%?  Matching rich dudes with shallow women is the second easiest job in the world after being Usain Bolt’s track coach (“run fast and try not to dance before the finish line”).  Bravo is actually releasing a companion show soon called Porn Star Matchmaker where I try to match female porn stars in their 20s with guys from New Jersey who are willing to date porn stars.

I also caught The Real Housewives of New York on Bravo.  I could not stomach a full episode, but here’s  synopsis:

  • These women do no housework. 
  • They all have children uglier than them because they married ugly rich dudes thus diluting their husband’s intelligence and drive with their shallow whoriness and diluting their looks with their husbands’ faces for radio.  What you get is a batch of mediocrity known as the bottom 50% of New York City private schools.

I admit this was only from about 30 minutes of viewing one episode, but I seriously could not watch more than that.  Perhaps I am wrong and these are real salt of the Earth people. 

My real questions is when did the bitches win?  I have had women tell me that bitches always win and nice girls finish or get taken advantage of.  Sadly, this may be true because these women hardly ever do any self reflection which might cause them to break down and realize their lives are shams.  But even if bitches do win and get their way, why are we celebrating them?  I keep seeing ads for The Bad Girls Club, which from the looks of it could literally be called cu-ts.  I know the language is a little harsh, but please correct me if I am wrong.  Rather than accepting these women as a sad part of society we are celebrating them. 

That is why I am proposing a new show for Bravo starring Chris Brown called Beat Down with Brown (other possible title is Brown Town).  The premise is simple – Chris Brown goes on dates with women from shows on Bravo (and throw in Bad Girls Club on oxygen for good measure) and then does his thing.  Does the date end in a kiss and a dance or a biting session?  Tune in to find out.   At the end of the season only one girl is left standing.  Literally.  Or in a shocking turn one of the girl/women’s fathers shows up (most of these women have to have physically or emotionally absentee fathers to be on these shows in the first place) in the season finale and beats the piss out of Chris Brown (which makes me question – does Rihanna have a brother or a father?  probably not if she’s subjecting herself to Chris Brown, who if it were my daughter or sister, would end up on the sidewalk like Carlo in the Godfather).

Hopefully Chris Brown gets word of this.  Everyone loves a comeback.