Road Comedy Recap: Larchmont Legend

This past weekend I found myself performing in a co-work space (is that what they are called?) in Larchmont, New York. The location, I learned when I was booked, is called The Idea Kitchen, which made me think it was a bar or restaurant, a more normal place to perform for comedians.  But it turns out that only thing cooking at the Idea Kitchen are ideas!  Well, sometimes the strangest places to perform end up being some of the best shows. Was this such a case?  Keep reading to find out (*clicks out of blog because more than one paragraph feels like homework*).

Animals and Dogs on Metro North

As I waited for the train from Bloomfield to Manhattan on NJ Transit I noticed that waiting for my train was one of the most attractive women I have ever seen.  Imagine if Megan Goode were 5’9″, wearing a Houston Texans jersey tied up Men on Film style, with short jean shorts and a prettier face than Megan Good.  If this sounds like fantasy that is why I kept pinching her on the platform to see if I was dreaming (it turns out I am supposed to pinch myself, lesson learned).  It is not low self esteem for me to wonder what the hell this woman was doing (and presumably living?) in my town.  Perhaps she heard in 2020 that it was a place of entertainment superstars (true), but since 2022 the clout and value of those superstars has plummeted and she can’t yet get out of a long term lease.

When I arrived in Manhattan I made my way to Grand Central for a 6:36pm train to Larchmont.  I arrived 25 minutes early and since I had burned at least 100 calories on my walk there I figured I had earned a 690 calorie milkshake and 450 calorie hamburger from Shake Shack.  As I finished I walked on to my train to see in my car:

  • a mother and daughter combo with their bare feet on their seats
  • a man and woman with their large dog (65+ lbs) on a seat eating dog food off a plate on another seat
  • a woman with her large dog lying in the aisle (the least offensive but still impeded someone from going into another train car

I sat down and read my book and fortunately only had to shut out two different cell phones blaring mindless content.  Of course, just like Michael Jordan needed angry motivation before games, boiling with anger at the lack of manners and decency in society always puts me in the right frame of mind for a comedy show (to my comedically challenged fans – that is sarcasm)

The Idea Kitchen

When I arrived at the Idea Kitchen is when I realized it was a co-working space and not a restaurant.  It was basically a full house (I would guess over 50 people) in the area and the show went great.  I continued working on my new material, which may be ready to be my 9th stand up album at the end of the year (tentative title: With Fans Like These, Who Needs Euthanasia?). The crowd were great laughers and picked up on almost everything I was putting down.  I left shortly after my set because I had to coordinate the right Metro North train so as not to miss the 2nd to last train to my town on NJ Transit.  Here’s a quick new bit from the show (others are on my patreon *stop reading, block J-L on all social media*):

Lovely Ladies of Metro North

When I got on my Metro North train I noticed our train had a petite, very cute  Latina ticket taker.  if there is an indicator that the Biden economy is not working it is hot women taking the train and working on the train.  What is this World War 2?! Of course I immediately thought, “how is that woman going to protect herself if an unruly passenger does not want to pay?”  I got my answer in the more brash, older Latina woman who was also working the train. The woman who could have been her mother in terms of age difference and similar size, got on the PA system about 10 minutes into the ride and said the following (I am closely paraphrasing): “I want to go through a few of the rules with everyone as we ride. Smoking and vaping are not allowed on this train since forever. Please don’t do it. Be courteous of your fellow travelers. And the seats are not footrests (this is where I got slightly aroused. And by slightly I mean fully). if you can see it, feel it or smell it you have probably stepped in it (bars) and we don’t want that on the seats. Please be courteous and have a great trip.”  At this point I realized that my love of trains, manners and Latin women had just gelled on this one soft core porn train ride back to the city.  But then my integrity was tested and I failed.

When cute Latina ticket taker took my ticket she went to the woman behind me (I could only hear her) and asked for her ticket. The woman in a “I am usually entitled but I am putting on my most submissive voice” said she had come from a different car and forget to take her ticket marker with her.  Now I spotted a lie in her description because I knew she had come from the other side she was claiming.  Cute Latina ticket taker was not convinced and had her own sweet voice she threw back at her but accepted her explanation. Meanwhile me listening to this conversation:

When we were close to the city the woman behind me got up and my usual impeccable, integrity-filled disgust at someone trying to sneak a train ride completely dissolved.  Rocking a sort of 2015 Demi Lovato haircut and filling out a jumpsuit in a way that I had never seen in person before, I immediately offered to pay her ticket and her rent for the next 6 months.  Once again, this was supposed to be something I merely thought and made a joke about, not a literal offer to be made out loud.  Lesson learned.

The Way Home

With some time to spare I walked from Grand Central to Penn Station. Feeling both elated from a good show and the vitrual 4some on the train (the older ticket taker would be invited simply because her wit and integrity is always welcome to be in the room, but only as support/personal assistant for cute ticket taker and jumpsuit Lovato) I did what I always do when I am depressed or happy – I got a milkshake.

It has been years since I had a Mr. Softee milkshake and I spotted a truck by the 42nd street library.  I ordered a chocolate milkshake and when Mr Softee said “twelve dollars” I instinctively blew on my rape whistle and ran to Penn Station.

I got on the 11:11 train home and was happy for a great night when a man dropped his beer as he fell asleep and some of it splashed my jeans.  Did he apologize? Of course not. Did it conveniently mask some of the stains on my pants from earlier train rides? A gentleman of the rails never tells.


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.


Creepy Comedian Pretending to Offer Gigs to Lure Comedians…

If you are in comedy long enough without being an overnight or breakout star, there are two things you will learn. One is how to have a healthy (or sometimes unhealthy) dose of cynicism.  The other is that there is a “comedian” named Dan who stalks comedians on-line because he has not received the needed mental health assistance he needs.  Multiple people (with advanced degrees in psychology) have told me that they think this “comedian” may have feelings for me akin to Scotty J in Boogie Nights or, more insidious, Chris Cooper in American Beauty. Although flattered. I am not interested, but that does not stop this “comedian” from contacting me through numerous false e-mails on line.  And now, in an effort to lure me (and maybe other comedians) to a hotel, the Buffalo Bill of comedy has now developed a false booker e-mail (sadly, he is too stupid to realize that his 4th grade level insults and bizarre usage of the English language are so consistent throughout all his on-line personas that it fools no one ever).  So here are the e-mails from “Charity Event Booker Bert Pierce”:

Wow – a charity event at the Hilton!  In town? What town?  $150 – what charity event at a Hilton can only afford $150 for entertainment?  Well I guess I will mull over the offer. But before then I decided to post the email above to Facebook to show everyone about my great offer.  But then I received the following after 2 am:

But Bert!? I was seriously considering your offer!  The Beverly Hills Hilton!  But I want to perform there. Even if it is a $500 flight for a $150 gig.  And I am not sure why he is writing “yes”. I never replied.   Turns out it is someone who must stalk my Facebook page.  Hey… this doesn’t seem like a legit gig offer anymore! And then the final e-mail:

Hey you mean between 2:58 am and 3:34 am all of my fans and friends got on e-mail and took action!?  That seems unlike them.  And since I did not encourage any attacks I am appalled that they all went on email at 3 am to trash Bert Pierce. What’s weird is that Bert Pierce only 10 hours earlier was trying to book me at a Hilton and now he says I have “no talent.”

So comedians be warned: there is someone out there trying to lure comedians to the Beverly Hills Hilton who also imagines things at 3 am.  Sounds like a danger to the community so I thought I would offer a warning.  I just hope I don’t hear about Bert Pierce punching reporters for The Daily Beast when his booking scam is exposed.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on PodomaticiTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free! 


Comedy Weekend Recap: The Knicks, Adam Sandler and a…

This weekend was a very busy one for me.  First I had to take my Dad to Dunkin’ Donuts on Friday for an afternoon of father-which-son-of-mine-are-you bonding (he is 82 and like Tony Soprano’s mother I am starting to see a blur between loss of memory and loss of respect for his younger son, which is making it more difficult to know when I should be sympathetic and when I should be offended).  Then I was #blessed enough to have  a friend with some serious comedy connections hook me up last minute with great seats to the NY Knicks-Utah Jazz game (if you are new to my site I am a big Utah Jazz fan – coming from a mixed marriage family marked by hostility I always found the harmony that Malone and Stockton played with to be oddly reassuring).  The seats actually belonged to a major mogul in comedy, so naturally I taped my impression reel underneath his seat for the next game he attends himself.

One of the great things about attending Knick games in the rich seats is that you get to see 12 year old kids with pouty looks begrudgingly marching into Madison Square Garden for tickets costing over $400 per game as if they are doing their fathers a favor leaving their PS4 and horny middle school teacher to sit in seats most American adults will never be able to afford.  Another thing I observed during the game was that t-shirt gun technology is out of control.  As gun violence has continued to make headlines it has given cover to the absurd NRA-porn level t-shirt gun technology.  There was one that looked like a massive Gatling gun of polyester.  It is only a matter of time until 11 year old Seth has a t-shirt smack him right in his smug 4th row seat face.  Then we may see real change to this horrific t-shirt gun technology.

The game ended up being a horrible beat down of the Utah Jazz, but it was nice to be in the rich seats.  I now realize that the next time I will be that close to the court will either be as a courtside celebrity (.01% chance) or as a survivor of a horrible tragedy being honored by the Garden (.02% chance).

Saturday was a monster Saturday.  From 745am to 430 pm I was filming my new sketch “Happy Madison Presents ‘Tyler Perry’s ‘ Old Testament, New Problems'” a parody of what would happen if film legends Adam Sandler and Tyler Perry combined their brilliant writing and film-making.  The shoot was exhausting (4 locations), but a ton of fun and will be my best (and hopefully biggest) work to date.  Here is the photo that will be the promo shot for the video:

Tyler Perry vs Adam Sandler – next week

So super tired and relieved of the stress that I always feel when filming one of my sketches I headed to Comedy Outliers, a show run by two NYC comics at the Sports Bar at Webster Hall.  The crowd was big and enthusiastic and several audience members had a look of hopeful happiness in their eyes and that is when I knew it might go off the rails for me.  I was tired and had just witnessed an awful mother-daughter combo a block from the bar.  Let me explain.  I was tired, which put me in a susceptible mood to be pissed off.  Then, a cab was stuck in the crossing traffic so although I had the right of way I let the cab go because not letting him go would hold up the 20 cars waiting to go north on the avenue.  As the cab started to go forward the mother-daughter duo stepped into traffic, oblivious to the rest of the situation. The mother was a formerly attractive blond (she was halfway to leathery Robert Redford stage) and her daughter was a semi-chubby 13 year old brunette (i.e. a slightly hotter Lena Dunham). And the daughter yelled out out “Excuse me!” to the cab driver, and the mother pointed for a good three seconds at the walk sign (cab driver was going about 6mph so no one was in any danger).  And as I looked at these two – a woman who had most likely married a less attractive, more accomplished man, otherwise how does one explain the daughter with worse looks, but equally awful character as her, and her offspring and thought – this is just like the Evolution of Man poster, except instead it is like seeing the Evolution of Cu*t.

Why did I share this story?  Because I took a risk and made it the first joke of my set.  And I actually had the crowd in a combination of curiosity and laughter until I hit the C bomb.  And that look of hopeful enthusiasm half of the crowd had disappeared and the four laughs for the line could not heal the damage I felt from the other people’s silence.  I worked doubly hard the rest of the set, but jokes that are touchy, but usually kill, were now tainted by the fruit of the poisonous C-Bomb tree.

After conversing with a couple of comedians I left the bar, bought a Hostess Apple Pie and did this (the usual way I celebrate after a less than perfect set):

Sunday was just lots of media watching and I will not get into True Detective today because TOMORROW”s Podcast episode will be dedicated, in part, to me arguing against the wave of love for that show (a B+ is solid, but when everyone treats it like an A, I get pissed).

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on PodomaticiTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!


Road Comedy Recap – Syracuse, Greyhound and an Epilogue…

This weekend I was in Syracuse, NY performing at Wise Guys Comedy Club (actually, the club recently moved from Syracuse to a sleepy, store-less, almost organic life-less VILLAGE (not a big fancy place like a town) called Camillus.  I was performing Friday and Saturday nights.   It is worth noting that this was my first time performing at this venue since the New Year’s Eve roided up MMA massacre that occurred after the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2013 (read the full recap HERE).  The disturbing epilogue to that story is that the victim was convinced not to press charges by his wife who was/is friends with K-FedRoid’s girlfriend.  So good luck to the men and women of Syracuse knowing that that dude is free in your city.

But before I heard that bit of disturbing news I was taking Greyhound round trip for the gig.  Because it was a holiday weekend Amtrak was not allowing customers to use points for travel and jacked up their rates.  So instead it was too Greyhound, or as I call it, the Anti Olympics (because on every bus it looks like every nationality has sent their worst representative).  And I must take back some of the bad words I have said about Greyhound. Sure there was a flaming gay guy who shuffled in his Ugg boots to cut me on line and a wanna be tough guy rapping vulgar lyrics while sitting right behind two old ladies, but the bus was 20 minutes early to Syracuse AND was already a faster scheduled trip to Syracuse than the train and less than half the cost.

When I arrived I was driven to the Green Gate Inn, which as you can tell from the thumbnail picture above appears to be the site of several horror films.  It was a pleasant enough space, though I did not fully fit on the bed and the nearest Starbucks (a good sign of civilization in 2014 America) was over four miles away (the nearest IHOP was 14+ miles away I believe).  The Green Gate is actually a local pub where it appears Syracuse Basketball fans that were around when James Naismith invented basketball hang out.  My room was located above the pub.

The shows were both great. Sold several CDs and no official complaints were logged as far as I know.  And as a bonus, no roided up MMA wannabes showed up to beat up mild-mannered sweater wearing husbands.  But after Saturday’s show it was time to get on the 115 am Greyhound.  I decided better to be home as early as possible than get a fitful six hours sleep in a bed made for a smaller person.  And if you think Asian women are crafty at snatching up seats on the New York City Subway no matter what rule of civility they must ignore, you should see them work on the 115 am Greyhound from Syracuse to NYC!  As I got on the Greyhound (note to Greyhoud – leather seats, plus full of people equals no need to have the heat on full blast) I noticed no less than half a dozen tiny Asian women with face masks on (seriously, cut the sh*t Asians – Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets  was less narcissistic and delusional in his approach to personal health than Asian women) sleeping (or pretending to sleep) taking up both seats. One Asian – rude. Two Asian women – coincidence.  Three?  Trend. Six on the same bus?  A fu*king epidemic.  As a large person, the Asian woman is my ideal  bus seat companion because they rarely use their entire bus seat.

So all in all it was a productive weekend of comedy and Greyhound buses earned some points in my book. But their customers are still the Anti-Olympics.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on PodomaticiTunes and NOW on STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!


Wintersville Is Coming and My Potential Political Career: Weekend…

Last Thursday I was doing Jimmy Failla’s radio show and at the end he asked me if I was performing anywhere this weekend and out of instinct I said, “nope.”  But then I quickly realized, “Wait, yes I am!”  At this point, bookings feel more like Christmas miracles, so I hope it is understandable that I forgot.  This gig was particularly interesting since it was for a show in my girlfriend’s hometown (Wintersville, the town next to Steubenville, the town made famous for its high school football rape case/tweets earlier this year, which of course made Wintersville’s new welcome sign of “The Small Town that Doesn’t Rape” quite sensible).  I was featuring for her, but given our respective heights and levels of cheeriness, I went Drago before my set and told her “I must break you.”


Before the show I went to my girlfriend’s childhood home and given that the tallest person in her family is about 5’11”, it was not surprising that I was bumping my shoulder on some of the light fixtures (lesser men might bump their head, but as a member of the Mensa-esque division of the overactive pituitary club I can sometimes bump my shoulder into low hanging lights. Basically, I looked like Gandalf visiting Bilbo Baggins.

Side note – the Keystone train of Amtrak does not have a snack car.  We took the train from NYC to Harrisburg, PA and then drove from Harrisburg to Wintersville and I was very disappointed that the Keystone has no snack car.  I assume it was Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station that lobbied for this.  There is a 20 minute stop in Philly before moving on to the rest of Pennsylvania so it turns all the passengers on the train into post-Apocalypse scavengers looking to build up supplies for the journey into Tea Party regions of Pennsylvania.

OK – back to the show.  When we arrived at the restaurant that has weekly (I think it’s weekly, maybe monthly, I have no idea) comedy I saw that the average color was bleach, the average age was life support and the average political leaning felt like “Ted Cruz is a liberal traitor.”  And yet, to quote the sports cliché, this is why you play the game.  They turned out to be a great comedy crowd.  Laughed a lot, minimal crowd input unless explicitly asked or spoken too, and just a pleasure to perform for.  Gigs like this make me feel good as a comedian, because even four years ago I could have easily bombed in front of a crowd like this. Just proves that the more you write and the more experience you gain performing for and learning from different crowds, the fewer crowds you cannot win over.  I am now certain that my skills and volume of material put me in position to win over any crowd in America, other than television executives and NYC club bookers.

One of the highlights of the show was an audience member, “John,” who looked like Barry Melrose, if he was raised in Texas instead of Canada.  This guy was a phenomenal audience member, a good sport and an anthropologist/archaeologist (hence my nickname of Indiana Melrose for him).  What fascinated me (pardon me if this sounds too much like a sheltered Yankee) was that he was a gun carrier, but did not seem like an unreasonable nut job (I am exaggerating for effect).  We did not have time to discuss gun rights, though it was sort of a novel feeling to meet a guy who liked carrying a gun, but who did not scare me for wanting to carry a gun.  I would have liked to ask him if he was for more background checks, etc., but he was an interesting contradiction of assumptions – a gun toting academic from a small town who looked like a young villainous Gary Oldman.


This may have seemed like all superfluous information, but when people wonder why I hate not getting more road work it I because I love everything about the road. I like travelling (reading time not distracted by TV, games, etc), I like hotels (except for the blood stained sheets at the New Haven La Quinta Inn) and I have enjoyed travelling to different cities in America and seeing stereotypes confirmed and refuted.  Maybe one day I will run for political office and be able to say:

“A lot of politicians say they understand you, but a comedian can honestly make that claim.  I have travelled to cities all over this country by plane, train, bus and car.  I have been to your stores, your malls, your tourist attractions, your Churches, your strip clubs and your comedy clubs.  I know our differences, but also our similarities.  I have had a lot of money and I have also struggled.  All this has been made possible by my career in stand up comedy. And I would have not understood and experienced financial struggles and dream crushing frustrations without one group of American heroes. God Bless the comedy club bookers!”

But seriously, I was a former ADA (“tough on crime, just ask Craig’s List prostitutes”), worked in the private sector (“may not have understood all the he did, but did understand how to bill clients”) and charismatic on the stump “engaging and funny on stage, sort of hard to believe clubs never paid him”. This is a great combination of experience and skills for political office.  Cauvin 2028 – get those bumper stickers ready!  I am already thinking a good slogan will be “Cauvin – Do Not Be Offended By His Old Tweets Please.”

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on PodomaticiTunes and NOW on STICHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe on one or more platforms today – all for free!