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DC Recap – Soccer Uncle Opening For Attell

This past weekend was one of those weekends that can give a comedian enough energy to pursue a failing dream for another year.  After a weekend of opening for the great Dave Attell in Indianapolis I coincidentally had the opportunity to open for him for six more shows at the DC Improv.  The DC Improv is consistently one of the best clubs in the country, if not the very best, in terms of audience and the weekend did not disappoint.  However, the audience that saw me as Superman on stage did not realize that I was living a very Clark Kent-lifestyle during the daytime.

When in DC I stay with my older brother and his family.  How convenient, right?  Absolutely, except for the fact that I have to room with my four year old nephew.  He would be roommates with his six year old brother, leaving the attic to me, but his older brother has sleeping issues, so the four year old has been relegated to the attic.  I give the kid credit.  He is four years old and sleeps in an attic by himself and does not seem to be afraid of it.  Of course, when I saw Paranormal Activity 3 last Friday, which focused on a child who sees a demon spirit, I could not say the same for me.

My nephew was apparently not that thrilled that I would be interfering with his four year old autonomy.  He asked my brother if I could sleep on an aerobed in the basement (second scariest place in a house after the attic).  But I don’t know why he was upset.  I managed each night to enter the room practically silent and never waking him.  However, every morning at exactly 615 am, my nephew would announce that he was ready to go downstairs and then engage me in 10-40 minutes of conversation.  This may explain why I appeared semi-comatose by the Sunday night show at the Improv.

Saturday was sports day.  With my brother in NYC on Friday and Saturday it was up to me to take the four year old to his morning soccer practice and his noon basketball practice.  My brother was responsible for bringing snacks to the soccer practice so he had purchased some Kashi brand granola bars.  I realized at that moment that I am only in favor of Michelle Obama’s healthy eating for kids initiative in theory only.  And to add pretension to injury, when the coach was asking the majority caucasion kids their favorite ice cream one kid said “Mango Sorbet.”  I then encouraged my four year old nephew to bully that kid, both in person and via cyber tactics, whatever would let that kid know that he is not OK.   And on a particularly disturbing note – I discovered my fly was open for the first thirty minutes of the soccer practice.  Not one emasculated, granola snack serving dad said anything!  So I am running around a bunch of four year olds with a gaping hole in my crotch at four year old face level and no one said anything.  Throw in the fact that I am an uncle and I am lucky to have not been shanked in jail later that night for being an accidental pervert.

After soccer practice it was time for basketball practice, which my nephew said he did not want to go to.  Having been an accomplished college benchwarmer in basketball, I was a little taken aback by my nephews comment.  But then I realized why.  The coach of the basketball program was pretty intense.  For a high school coach.  But he was coaching and running through drills a group of kids between 4 and 8 years old.  All the kids were black, so naturally the snacks were Dunkin’ Donuts.  You can take the sugar out of the white soccer practice, but you can’t take the diabetes out of the black basketball practice.  My nephew wasn’t terrible, so he seems sure to continue the Cauvin tradition of mediocre hoops accomplishments (but since he is relatively diminutive the expectations of his career will be much smaller than his gigantic uncle).  And for any hoops scouts there was a seven year old at the practice with defined muscles in his calves and a consistent 8 foot jumpshot.

The shows, however, were nothing less than awesome.  I had a great time.  I even decided to join a couple of fans at a nearby bar after Friday’s late show.  I basically did it just to prove to them that I would (they seemed sure that I was lying).  They told me to meet them at “Public.”  So I went a block away to Public to discover it was a four story bar/lounge/date rape emporium.  I did not find the people (sort of like meeting someone in NYC and saying, “Yeah just meet me in Macy’s”), but the owner of the bar found me and he had been at the show and he bought me two drinks.  Thanks, and just kidding about the date rape comment.  It seems like a place where I would have thrived as a law student (for the record “G-town law student” much higher value in the bars than “unknown comedian killing it”).

I handed out more cards over the six shows than I have at any other gig since I have had the cards.  And I never force them on people.  I only give them to people who ask, or people who are so effusive in their praise that it seems reasonable to hand them one.  And my trash ratio was great.  For about 150-200 handed out I only found one on the street outside the Improv between the six shows.  So for all that glad handing, performing and card dispensing I have added four Twitter followers, three facebook friends and two blog fans. So unlike my usual bitching I will just say thanks to that small, but incredibly lucky group of people in the DC area.  The only problem is that a week of featuring at the DC Improv was the highlight of my comedic year.  If DC is my peak fan base then I fully expect to see my body burned in effigy, composed of my cards, sometime this week in Syracuse.  See you there!

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What I Learned In Indiana – Climate Change Is…

I finished up a 5 show stretch in Indianapolis at Morty’s Comedy Joint, featuring for Dave Attell.  When I met Attell he was sitting in the front seat of the emcee’s car and I did not recognize him because he was wearing a hat.  And a beard.  And hair.  I actually thought he was the emcee’s friend until I head the recognizable Attell voice from the front seat.  Working with Attell was great because the guy is a machine gun of comedy.  But unlike a lot of admirers and imitators he is both quick off the cuff and his almost one-liner esque comedy seems to weave a narrative, which is quite difficult to do.  Even though he jumps from topic to topic it never feels like a series of Dangerfield-esque one-liners that grow tired after ten minutes, nor does it feel like some alt room string of non sequiturs.  I would share some of my favorite lines from the shows, but I think Attell is very sensitive to his material spreading around (and perhaps diminishing incentive to support his live shows) so I will not (but the good news if you are among my many friends, acquaintances, people I nod to to silently, etc in the DC area I will be featuring for him again this coming Thursday through Sunday at the DC Improv.  So come see what all the talk that I am not sharing is all about!

But enough about the famous guy I worked with – you guys want more details about my experience in Indiana so here are the highlights:

Climate Change Is A Myth

This  was all I took away from my set Thursday night.  After surviving a weird sports movie (https://jlcauvin.com/?p=2964) experience on Thursday, I was treated to a small, but enthusiastic crowd at Morty’s Comedy Joint (Attell headlined the four shows Friday & Saturday).  The set was going well and then I made a joke about climate change, with a “radical liberal bias”  i.e. I think, like the scientific community, that it exists and that man is a contributor.  Well that prompted a couple of “It’s a myth!!!” from patrons.  Considering that two people represented about 6% of the crowd it sort of bothered me, especially since the rest of the joke was going well.  So I abandoned it for the rest of the weekend.  I could have tried to fight a valiant effort to get people to laugh at those who think environmental scientists are part of a grand conspiracy, but I decided it was a losing battle.  I have understood why Obama has not put up as big a fight for certain issues, but after Thursday’s show I felt it.  AMURRRRRICA!!!!

Killer New Bit And Some New Old Fans

I am very tempted to put the new bit I wrote Thursday (based largely on the above linked blog posting), but I think I will save it for live performances and my upcoming CD recording.  But it really destroyed and worked all four shows, but was delivered four different ways.  That is one of the exciting things about a good new bit – even if it kills it is still new and can be manipulated and worked over and may become something great.

And the coolest thing was that two women who had seen me in Chicago a year ago at Zanies were at the club by coincidence and were asking me why I did not do my Good J-L Hunting bit.  It was that magical feeling in comedy where you feel so great that someone remembers you for some of your material, but simultaneously are annoyed that you did not do that joke.  But it was definitely a net plus in the good feelings department.

OK, enough positivity.

My Basketball Card Comes To A Show

During the late show last night I noticed a table with 5 white women, a white guy, an Asian man and two black men.  I then said – “Holy sh*t, this is the most diverse thing in Indiana besides the Indiana Pacers.”  The whole crowd laughed, but the table I was joshing with really laughed hard.  I just figured it was another group that enjoyed having fun poked at them during the show.  You know the dopes who leave a comedy show after heckling and talking to the comedian all night saying, “Oh my God we totally made that show awesome!”  But as I found out when I left it was a little different.

One of the black men, who was about 6’4″ was standing by the club bar with an attractive 40-something blond and she said to me, “We were laughing so much because you said we were diverse like the Indiana Pacers, and he (pointing to black man) was a Pacer.  Yes!  Turns out the guy was former Pacer guard Vern Fleming, whose basketball card is definitely in an album in a closet at my parents’ house.   And here is how I know Vern Fleming is a good dude.  Sure he is a NBA dude banging hot blond chicks (cliche), but he dates age appropriate hot blond chicks and to me that is a great statement for older women that there are some good older men out there who appreciate seasoned women.  So remember ladies – it is not your age that matters; it is whether you are ugly or not.

It was a great weekend in Indianapolis two movies seen, two trips to Chick Fil-A and four awesome shows with Dave Attell.   Now it is time to get home and make love to my Play Station 3 before heading back on the road.

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The Day I Was Supposed To Die – A…

When I travel to a gig I usually get an early flight so I can get to the location early, christen the bathroom and still have time to spare before the gig begins.  Thursday was no exception.  Having secured a $68 flight on Southwest I decided to to take a break from my lucrative Greyhound/Amtrak endorsement deal (don’t worry I am taking a 19 1/2 hour Greyhound trip back to NYC on Sunday) and take a quick flight to Indianapolis.

Readers may or may not know that I have a slight fear of flying/heights, which is ironic given my choice of profession and the fact that I am very tall. My flight was to depart at 11:20 am and we were only running about 15 minutes late when the plane started speeding down the runway.  But then, just after I had said a silent “Please God don’t let me die” and then just as I was about to do my customary urine-in-pants move, the pilot hit the breaks on the plane.  I said out loud, “that’s interesting,” and inside I said, “We are going to die on this plane! (accompanied by the opening shriek that Prince does in the song Get Off)”

The pilot told us that while we were going on the runway there was a landing plane crossing our path or something to that effect.  So under that explanation I saw that I almost died the way many people died on the season 2 finale of Breaking Bad (in retrospect at least a dozen comedians would be right to make the connection while mourning my loss on Facebook).

The pilot told us that because of the aborted takeoff we would need to return to the gate to refuel.  This sounded strange to Dana, the Mom from Maryland sitting to my right, who informed me that her father had been a pilot for Pan Am.  When we got back to the gate men in Southwest windbreakers began coming onto the plane (Southwest polo shirts – safe, Southwest windbreaker – bad).  Then the pilot told us after about thirty minutes that an emergency light had gone on and that they were trying to figure out if there was a technical problem with the plane or just with the emergency light.  In other words I think our pilot lied as to the original cause of our slow down.  I have always suspected pilots of being liars.  Like when then pretend not to be afraid of severe turbulence with that generic, horsesh*t, calm voice that they all seem to have.

So we waited two hours, listening to a Southwest flight attendant crack jokes on the loudspeaker (to which Dana said, “Oh she thinks she’s a comedian” in a way that sounded scornful of the flight attendant’s jokes (justified) and stand up in general (only semi-justified).  So I was committed to keeping my secret identity a secret and then we started talking.

“Are you from Indianapolis?”

“No. Going for business.”

“Oh, will you be late with the delay?

“Nope, not working until tonight.”

“What do you do?”

“Stand Up Comedian.”

That is how long it took to break me.  When I said comedian, the sophomore college student headed home for fall break next to me, Mackenzie, if my memory is correct, piped up and asked:

“You’re a comedian?”

“Yep.”

“That’s cool.”

“It’s ok.”

“Do you know any famous comedians?”

(inner monologue) Have you heard of Patrice O’Neal or Dave Attell? Probably not.

“You mean like Dane Cook?”

“Yeah”

“No.”

Now during these pleasantries with these two women (Mackenzie – a 20 year old woman who hates Twitter, does not have Internet on her phone and likes math and science – sort of like the 20 year old I would clone for a better America if I had the machine from Weird Science and Dana, the Al Gore hating, Barack Obama-voting (I have a soft spot for politically varied people, even if I don’t agree with them) mom) I never lost the thought that these might be the last two people I would ever speak to.  You may think I am being too paranoid of flying, but the passengers on this plane gave me reason to be concerned.  First we had a female co-pilot.  And second, two rows in front of me, for several rows, was a deaf high school (or small college) football team from Maryland.

You may be asking yourself what is the big deal about a deaf football team?  Everything!  First off when a crowded plane goes down there is always some sympathetic story.  How does the headline “200 perish in plane crash, including entire Inspirational Team of Deaf Football Players.  President Obama mourns the loss of these heroes and 160 losers who could not afford Delta on short notice” sound?  I mean they would make an inspirational sports movie and call it something like “Heard Around The World” or “Deafinitely”  or “Heard and Long” (my favorite)  or “The Sounds of Silence” and it would probably have Marlee Matlin as a fictional team trainer who becomes the romantic lead for the head coach.  But you know who is not in this movie?  The hilarious comedian killing it in row 20 of the plane.  He is an extra or an under 5 at best.  Oh and did I mention the co-pilot was a woman?

Well the plane eventually took off and I had a pleasant conversation with both women (I gave them both my website and I think passengers around me thought I was a male escort with a wide age range (I work at night, I have banter with 19 and 56 year old women, and he caught me masturbating uncomfortably in the bathroom).  I have found that conversation is often the best way to be calm during a flight. We did not crash, obviously, unless I am a character from the show Lost.  So now it is time for some Dave Attell shows.  (I will give a full recap of all shows on Monday – like how on Thursday I divided the crowd between people with brains and without when I asked who believes climate change is a myth).  So Indiana – I survived and I am going to make you wish I’d died on that plane!  I mean I am going to kill!  That’s the expression I was looking for.