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San Antonio Journal Part I – Chief, The Alamo…

Two smooth flights yesterday, so I did not have a repeat of the near-death experience from two weeks ago on the way to Indianapolis.  Flew to Atlanta from LaGuardia and ran through the airport OJ-style looking for a Chick Fil-A, but could not find the terminal in time before needing to get my connection to San Antonio.  I then found myself sitting right next to a young man, who based on his Mohican eyes and Native American necklace was definitely going to Harvard on a free ride.  He was six foot four and sitting right next to me.  So the two most physically awkward of the 180 passengers on the plane are forced to hip dry hump for two hours to Texas.

On a side note – whoever flew the plane from LaGuardia to Atlanta had the softest landing of all time in Atlanta.  This blog is often a bastion of hate (honest hate, but hate nonetheless) and I think it was important to point out a hero out there.  On the flip side the pilot to from Atlanta to Texas was named Jeff Davis (How did that name not go the way of Adolph – oh right because people in the South still think Jefferson Davis is a hero) and landed quite bumpily in San Antonio.

The comedian condo is located near The Alamo.  Not impressed.  I feel like 10 years ago I might have been able to just jump up and climb over the wall.  It seemed more like a taunt to the little people who were trying to take it.

At the show there were 10 people, all up front (a comedy friendly ratio of 8 women and two men).  Only one man felt free enough to laugh a lot so I probably directed 60% of my “skits” at him.  At the end of my half hour I observed the following break down of the group’s reaction:

  • 6 people clapping (probably an even split of 3 appreciative and 3 obligatory/reluctant)
  • 1 person smiling and doing nothing
  • 2 people staring with arms folded in protest
  • 1 person shaking her head disapprovingly

After my “comedy thing” I went looking for food in the shopping mall, but it was already 9pm so everyone was closing shop to prepare for the rapture, except for Chili’s and Hooters.  Now given the dismissive reaction I had just been given from over a half dozen women, Hooters would have been the logical, get even, degrade-my-enemy type move, but I went against my instinct and had a burger and fries at Chilis.  But on the televisions in Chilli’s was the show Revenge, so apparently women were not done ruining my night.  I observed 15 minutes of the show and I hope the creators of that show die alone.  Of course my anger took a turn for the weird when I was banging on the door of a closing Hooters screaming, “I cannot take our stupid, female driven pop culture – I want to degrade you with an 8% tip!!!!”

I slept about 11 hours last night (slightly interrupted because of an incredible loud cracking sound that keeps emanating from my window), which may sound like a good thing, but I have not slept that much since I was skipping classes, neck deep in depression, in law school. In other words – it is a great thing!!!!  That law school depression is what drove me to comedy.  Perhaps now I am being driven to find some other form of life that will offer temporary happiness and years of torment!  Def poetry slam runner up has a nice ring to it.

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Syracuse Recap: 6 Shows, 5 Botched Intros, 4 Good…

The title of this post is basically the Cliff Notes of what you need to know. But for further detail here goes something:

I arrived in Syracuse on Thursday after a relaxing, and by J-L travel standards quick, 5 ½ hour train ride at 3:50 pm and was greeted by the welcoming weather that calls central New York home:

Thursday’s show would turn out to have the smallest crowd of the six shows this weekend, but they were not half bad.  And the show was also notable because it was the only time my intro was said correctly in all six shows.  I will give you the correct into and then the not so correct ones I got:

  • This guy has been seen on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson and performs at clubs around the country – J-L Cauvin (correct)
  • This guy, he was on The Late Late… which one is it The Later Night Late Show?  J-L Cauvin
  • You may have seen this guy on The Late Late Show his name is… what the hell is his name? (picks up my card) J-L… Cauvin
  • Give it up for D.L Cauvin
  • You have seen this guy… he just did a guest spot on Leno… J-L Cauvin

I messed up one intro as an emcee in my life at the Cleveland Improv.  I was mortified and would have been OK if the headliner told me to fu*k off and asked me to be bounced from the lineup.  That said, I of course never messed up the intro the rest of the week.  But Wise Guys this weekend had three different emcees for the four nights. And none of them had a perfect record. I don’t really care except when your intro is messed up (especially on purpose as one emcee did twice because I think he thought it was funny) it just diminishes the modicum of energy and respect the crowd may have for the entertainer.   It’s like instead of having the dignity of a stripper, he was demoting me to Hooters waitress.

Friday I went to the Mall and joined Bally’s for three days.  I always enjoy my interactions with gym personnel in different towns.  I usually say “I am a comedian in town for the weekend and was hoping to use the gym for a few days,” and they always respond, “Oh really, what’s your name?” And usually I say, “You have never heard of me.”  See, as a feature you do all the travelling of a headliner at a fraction of the pay and much more pride swallowing.  By the end of a typical day on the road it becomes a battle of how many people will I have to tell I am a non-famous comedian that does not play pro sports while enduring looks of disappointment in people’s faces like I threw the 1918 World Series versus how much to I still want to live.

So working out in Syracuse I realized that the same way small town girls seem to have taken to tattoos and oral sex as their singular identity in a post-industrial America (I am guilty of looking at well-inked women the way many white women look at black dudes – Sure I find you attractive and want to have sex with you, but I will probably never introduce you to my parents), men seemed to have embraced the MMA model for life.  Everyone in the gym looked like they were working out to be extras in a sequel to Warrior.  It would be nice if America could start employing people and creating things so that our only inspirations are not from reality television  America is quickly becoming a land where men and women either look like they belong on Jersey Shore or The Biggest Loser.

Anyway, like I said only four of the six shows at Wise Guys went as well as I wanted (which based on Twitter account reading will now be known to all comedians performing in Syracuse as “pulling a Jason Good”).  The early show Friday and
the late show Saturday had all the fun of a Tea Party rally watching Obama fu*k their white daughters.  But the other shows were great, especially Sunday’s crowd, which provided me the rare opportunity to leave a city on a high note.  Normally I leave gigs the way Shooter McGavin was forced to run at the end of Happy Gilmore.

Not only that, but I sold five CDs Sunday night, which brought my total for the weekend up to five.  Thank you to three people that bought those five CDs (two went for one copy of each of my CDs) – your money has already gone to purchase breakfast for a starving comedian.

As far as non-comedy entertainment I saw Puss In Boots and In Time, which were both great ideas for movies towatch on TBS on a rainy Sunday afternoon on the day a year where the only sports on television are cheerleading competitions.  And also a note to Regal Cinemas of Syracuse: You are a town with a Mall. How dare you charge $10 per ticket or $8 for a matinee.  You are a $6 movie ticket town!  At least Indianapolis had the decency to know that their matinees should only cost $5.

I also had a lot of fun hanging out with headliner Jaime Lissow, whose name I had heard many times, but never actually met.  We even managed to kill at Denny’s late Friday night.   We went in after a late night of shows and drinking.  I was immediately drawn to a stuffed toy plane in the claw machine (the impossible ones that take people’s money without mercy) because I am immature and Jaime said “I am going to get that plane for you,” which is slightly more impressive than calling a home run if you can pull it off.  I turned my back and walked toward the table and following behind me, to the awe of two customers up front, was Jaime with a the toy, which looked sort of like what an airplane would look like in a Pixar film.  So, to the delight of a few waitresses and patrons I re-enacted 9/11 as a Pixar movie using the stuffed toy as one of the hijacked planes.  Might not have been my finest moment from a decency standpoint, but was one of my best improvised
moments of comedy for sure.

Then there was the Henry Winkler sighting, which was probably the most surreal experience I have had in a while.  If you don’t know who Henry Winkler is you are stupid, but I will let you know anyway – he played the Fonze on Happy Days and most notably to me, played the Bluth Family attorney on Arrested Development.  I was at the Syracuse Amtrak station on Saturday waiting for my girlfriend to arrive.  Once she did we got on line to exchange our Monday return tickets for an earlier train.  And then running through the door of the empty train station is Henry Winkler.  I just stared at him and elbowed my girlfriend to look.  It was not that I was star struck as much as it was, “What the fu*k is Henry Winkler doing in Syracuse looking frantic at the train station.  He seemed to be in a hurry to get on the train that was about to leave.  He was with who I believe was his assistant or a colleague, but he was incredibly polite.  He was not technically cutting us, but he seemed concerned that we not think he was a dick so he apologized and then thanked me and my girlfriend, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder, which I was OK with (I believe that is the first in a long line of steps that ends with asking a large black man to fu*k your wife while you watch during a mid-life crisis) as he ran off to the train.  And then the station was empty and quiet again.  The only person more in awe than us was the train clerk, who looked sort of like the nerdy guy from Party Down.  He had to be a big fan of Arrested Development (and probably comic books and Dungeons and Dragons also) and it was nice to have shared the moment with a mutual fan.

 

I am sure Henry Winkler was on the train going, “That was crazy!  We just cut The Rock and he was so nice about it!”  Thanks to the Wise Guys staff, the staff of the Maplewood Inn and the 5-15 fans I made this weekend.  Now off to San Antonio.

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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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The Culture That Gave Birth To #OccupyWallStreet

I have been very happy to see the Occupy Wall Street movement gaining momentum.  I have posted some prescient, but possibly unduly pessimistic, blogs about some of the issues that are being brought up with the OWS movement (From Feb 2011 – https://jlcauvin.com/?p=2178), but I have yet to join the actual protest.  I have been travelling and dealing with some health issues with my Dad, but I plan on joining at some point.  But before I can, I guess I will make some points on why I think this movement is important and vital right now.

People Saying That This Is Just Anger At People With Money

This is the narrative that is being pushed by Republican and corporate masters and their less intelligent minions in the general public.  Like many things with Republicans it is a concise, easily understood and completely misguided description of what the issues are.  People do not resent the money.  It is the fact that the political system is now a full-fledged partner in the massive consolidation of wealth in a very small percentage of Americans.

First off let us not pretend that the bankers and investment houses are Apple (who for all the good it produced, American jobs was not high on the list) or General Motors in that they produce products people can use and employ lots of people to do so.   They are gamblers in a casino.  They are playing three card monty.  The problem is that not only are they counting cards that represent working families’ money, the Casino (the government aided by lobbyists) are helping them!  The Casino wins, the Wall Street gamblers win, and then the American people lose.  This is not anger about the money they earn; it is anger at how the system has been gamed and rigged to give them an unfair advantage in the form of government access.  And not only is it rigged – it is so rigged that it will only get exponentially worse.  They have more money, which allows them to buy our government, which will enact further advantages in tax breaks and loopholes (or de-regulate protections) which will reap more money that they can then use to… buy more protections from government and so on.  And this leads to my next point:

 

Lobbying Is A Bigger Enemy

To a certain extent the Wall Street culture and those who embrace it are the obvious villains in the current narrative.  But to be fair they are playing a game that our country has allowed to go on.  For anyone who has not read it, I strongly recommend “Winner Take All Politics.”  It is a book, that in more scientific terms, defends the premise of comedian George Carlin that elections are illusions of personal political power.  We are always obsessed with fund raising during big elections and voting for major candidates, but in between elections it is the lobbyist for the wealthy (yes to detractors on the right, unions have lobbyists too, but the influence of the Union has dwindled just like its membership and the status of the working man) and corporations that determine what actually happens.  Lobbying money is bigger than campaign money, it is more secret than campaign money and it has more effect than campaign money.  And after a while, the Senators and Representatives who work for us realize that their job is to be re-elected and that their best friends are their lobbyist and contributor buddies.  And there is only one way to break those shackles.

Congress Needs Term Limits

I still do not understand why the President has term limits, but Representatives and Senators can serve until they die.  These are the people that need term limits more than anyone!  The President’s office is much harder to operate in secret, whereas there are 535 members of Congress who are continually being offered things from their corporate suitors and unless you are like my Uncle and watch tons of CSPAN you are probably in the dark about Congress in general.  If they all had term limits (and this is PARTY NEUTRAL) then they could actually listen to the voice of Americans and not the voice of lobbyists.  And I actually do not resent the far right direction of the House.  The Framers intended the House to be the chamber that catered to the fickle will of the people.  And “right or wrong” the People wanted something different in 2010 and the House operated as it was intended to to a certain extent (if we ignore massive anonymous corporate campaign contributions).  The real prostitutes are the Senate.  The intent of the Senate was that it be a branch of government above the indignity of elections every two years, which would allow its members to make decisions based on long term needs.  But Senators of both parties have turned out to be the worst.  That is why even Democratic Senators like Mary Landrieu (La.) and Jay Rockefeller (W. Va) can support oil subsidies and coal mining because they enjoy their seats of power and therefore, will cater to to provincial corporate interests rather than the better long term environmental health of the United States.  Hate or love the tea party, but they were on politicians like hit squads that did not do what they wanted.  Perhaps it is time for Democrats to do some house (and Senate) cleaning as well.  But the Tea Party did not act alone.  It was aided by the judicial branch.

Citizens United

When the Supreme Court decided that restrictions on corporate donations violated the First Amendment it gave Tea Party backers (who either believed in their cause or simply could use them to enact an extremely business friendly political climate) the ability to become national political hitmen.  That is why from small local elections to disastrous Republican Senate nominations like Christine O’Donnell there was a dramatic shift right for the Republicans.  They could not actually flood every single primary with money, but they now had a weapon to make Republicans afraid that they COULD BE targeted.  But beyond all of these things, there is a fundamental problem in America and nothing short of a revolutionary movement will probably correct it.

Our Culture Has Become One of Greed and Ignorance

The most popular reality television shows (besides Jersey Shore) are the lot that feature “real, working Americans.”  From Coal, to Gold Diggers, to Deadliest Catch, the shows are in the dozens.  And it makes sense that they are on television because they represent an American fantasy.  See there is a market for all of these shows because we like to romanticize the working man.  These shows should be on Disney because they are bordering on fiction.  America is like the girl that dates the garage worker because it pisses off her father and she wants to “feel real,” but eventually she settles down with a lawyer or an investment banker.  She has experienced authenticity at a safe distance.  That is what we do.  People love watching these shows because they represent what America used to be, but when it comes to providing jobs and industry to people like the ones on television, well that is a little “too real.”

Or maybe you are one of the many Americans who enjoy watching pastors on television, like Joel Osteen, that have developed this prosperity gospel, where God wants and loves those who make lots of money (I believe it was Jesus Christ who said, “Easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man enter the Kingdom of Heaven”).  So now television is telling you that the rich are blessed by God and that the working men are fine and kicking ass on reality television, so who are these socialist scumbags trying to overturn a country that is supposed to be about making tons of money?

Many of them are people who cannot get jobs. Does that mean they are lazy?  Perhaps. Or is it also because we are an economy and a corporate structure that has one goal – pleasing shareholders and boards of directors?  We value stock price as not just the most important factor in corporate success, but the only one!  Need to raise your share price?  You could invent something, or layoff 1000 workers, either way you will be viewed as more attractive, more efficient and your shareholders will be happy.  Mission Accomplished.

Now I understand we are not and probably never again will be an industrial economy, but are there major initiatives to make our country better at math and science to create or build the next industry?  Of course not, because that might require tax money or deeper sacrifices from the wealthy or a belief in science from half of the country. We should be leading in green technologies.  Even if you are a climate change skeptic (i.e. moron) there is a huge market for energy efficient and carbon neutral products.  From a business perspective isn’t that enough of a reason to lead in that area?  Of course not, because too many industries have their hands deep into the souls of our lawmakers.  So they attack the science (which is settled) and never even address the fact that if done right we could become a power economically by leading this industry.

Or why not a high speed rail system?  There are laborers looking for work and our train system is ancient compared to Europe and Asia (Shock of shocks – America not #1 or #2 in this area!!!).  But there are industries that cannot possibly want this (oil and aviation to name two).

Of course money sometimes has a “good” effect, but I believe its influence, regardless of the cause, must be removed.  The power must be the people’s again.  When gay marriage passed in NY State it was a big moment and seemed like a triumph of good, but I saw it as a triumph of money.  Only the threat of campaign contributions from some wealthy businessmen who had changes of heart on gay marriage swung the necessary votes.  As AC/DC said, “Listen to the money talk.” I would have preferred marriage equality to come the way it should have because it is the right thing.  I am sure I do not speak for gay people who were thrilled to have the rights by any means necessary, but do not ignore the fact that that was money and not justice at work for those critical swing votes.

Who Is To Blame?

I have a friend named Martha who is always asking me why I do not blame Obama (or at least give him a “fair share,” to borrow his tax mantra) for the country’s economic problems.  One issue she had was with the original bailouts.  I am no economist, but I know Paul Krugman is a Nobel-Prize winning one and he wrote that without those original bailouts the country would have fallen off a cliff into a great depression.  Obama cannot change the entire system (hell he tried to give more people health care and was henceforth known as Hitler) and yet that is what I believe is necessary.  Obama has tried to be a great compromiser, but instead he has been portrayed as a Muslim, American hating socialist by the right and a gutless coward by the left.  The Republicans have had an obstructionist agenda from the beginning (a well calculated risk that would not have had as much traction with a caucasian president, because the most ignorant and radical elements of the tea party and Republican party are also the ones most likely to have antebellum notions of Negros).  If you doubt that then why did Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell say that “Republicans’ top priority is to make President Obama a one-term president?”  So  given this incredibly hostile political climate I cannot blame Obama for not being or acting like a super hero.

Now some people will say “The climate in Washington is even worse, not better since Obama took office.  he promised better and it is worse.  he ruined it.”  Now that is correlation without causation.  Similarly to how banks started passing more fees after Dodd-Frank was passed.  Or how health insurance premiums started rising more after “Obamacare” passed.  These actions are no different than mob bosses who demand “protection money.”  Obama came with good intentions and perhaps too much naivete about Washington (the biggest reason Hilary Clinton may have been a more effective president), but the response to him and his initiatives are nothing less than a shakedown to convince dumb Americans that the correlation of their responses to Obama’s actions are in fact CAUSED by Obama, which they are not.

So who is to blame – well I think Wall Street, the lobbyists, the unyielding Republicans, the Democrats to a lesser extent all have a part to play, but (and Republicans should like this) I think we need to take individual and collective responsibility as American citizens.  The American Dream is a fantasy.  Take Steve Jobs as an American Rorschach Test.  For many Americans they saw it as the American Dream – any American, even one living in his parents’ garage, can rise to become a brilliant inventor and change the culture!  But that is looking at it through the eyes of an American Dream that does not exist.  He is the American Exception.  He was so brilliant and inspired that he would thrive and create anywhere.  He succeeded through his own exceptionalism.  Do not let Steve Jobs become a Pat Tillman for the business sector of America.  Are we saying that to make a decent way in America you now must be exceptional? Possibly because to millions of Americans, work ethic and responsibility are not enough any more.

Here is a hypothetical (at least to me – it may be very real to others) that I think sums up why I believe in the #OccupyWallStreet movement.

During one of the Republican debates, Ron Paul was asked about a healthy 30 year old man who chose not to get health insurance and subsequently got very sick.  This was the “let him die” moment during the debate, when a few crowd members shouted that.  The question I would have wanted to hear asked is, “What if a 45 year old father of two, who has worked for the same business for fifteen years, gets laid off.  He has COBRA benefits, but they run out before he can get a job again because of a tough job climate.  Then during a routine physical that he is paying for out of pocket it is determined that he, after some more tests, has a treatable, but eventually fatal, disease.  What should we do with THAT man?”  That is the question Americans should be asking.  What do we do when a man who believes in the system and plays by the rules, but falls on hard times.  What happens when THAT man is failed by our system?  What do we do then?  For me, all of these things, the imbalance of political power by gross inequality of wealth, the political bickering, the deceit, the game playing, the shameful politics and the ignorance in this  country all come down to the fate of that man.  The way the country is right now is a country where that man dies or if he doesn’t his family that he fought and worked for is homeless because of his crippling bills.  The country I want America to be and the country that I think Obama wants and that I believe the #OccupyWallStreet movement wants, is the one where the climate, the culture and the system in place create a country where he lives and lives the life he has worked for.  But to do that I think a lot will have to change first.

 

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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.

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Too Big To Fail? – CD Recording

Have not been blogging recently due to some pressing family matters, but now that things are looking good here is the big announcement:

My 3rd CD will most certainly be the best. Spread the word Philly fans.

To get tickets – use this link:

http://www.heliumcomedy.com/philadelphia/calendar.php?month=11&day=9&year=2011

Thanks – hope to see you there.  Everyone who shows up will get a free copy of the CD when it is released.

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An Extra Classy Weekend Of Comedy

I had two shows in venues that are classier than the places I generally perform in.  The first was Thursday at Tenjune, a New York City club and then at the Mohegan Sun Casino on Saturday.  Considering the last couple of bar gigs I had, simply the fact that no death threats were involved was a major upgrade.  Here’s the recap:

Tenjune Thursday

The gig at Tenjune, which I believe is an ancient term from the Far East that roughly translates to “douchey ‘brahs’ with loot and coke,” was actually organized by Williams College alumni to highlight the charity work of a couple of alums.  I was the comedy interlude in between the open bar hour and the Tenjune gang rape known as “cash bar.”  I was actually surprised to even get in to the club because I just thought these clubs took place entirely outside.  My experience is that you show up with one or two friends, a large black man (these clubs do not seem to hire white bouncers because black men with freedom are the only thing known to effectively intimidate the merchants of arrogance known as investment bankers), looks at you, notices that you are not famous or accompanied by eight women and then says “nah.”  Apparently these establishments do let people inside.

The event was from 8pm to 11pm so that the club could scrub out our liberal arts college nerdiness before the cool crowd showed up.  I knew I was in a different league when I went to the bathroom.  When I entered the bathroom there was, predictably, a West African man with an assortment of colognes and gums.  He was on his cell phone and standing in front of a urinal.  I said excuse me.  He glanced at me and continued talking into his phone.  I said excuse me again and he finally moved.  I was impressed, “Man these clubs are so cool and exclusive, even their bathroom attendants are arrogant pieces of sh*t!”  Maybe I was not on the list for the urinal.  Or maybe he knew I was a comedian.

After catching up with a few friends I took to the stage aroun 915 and did 20 minutes.  It went great.  I was really happy with the set and even happier to have the club comp me a few drinks because when I actually paid for one I needed a bank loan.  I am not saying it was too expensive, but when I asked one of the bouncers how much a bottle was for a table our of pure intellectual curiosity, he said “Your first born. And $550.”

An even cooler thing than being one-upped by a bathroom attendant happened after the set.  I was talking to some younger alums and a woman from the Class of 2009 (every time someone mentioned a class after 2008 from college I unnecessarily did math in my head to wonder if it was even legal for me to speak to them – worrying signs of both old age and saying perverted things on a daily basis) asked me about my lawyering days (I mentioned being a lawyer in my set as sort of a “this is what can happen if you fu*k up a Williams education/scared straight” sort of message).  I told her my first job out of law school was as an ADA in the Bronx.  She said, “Oh my Dad worked in the Bronx.”  As my slightly impaired mind started to piece it together I asked, “as what?”  She said, “He’s a judge,” and before I could ask (my brain was digging through information 6 years old) she said Judge Barrett.  Here is what transpired next:

Me: Holy sh*t!!!! He was the judge me and my bureau were in front of every day!

Judge B’s Daughter (JBD): Shut the fu*k up (if the Judge reads this she actually said “heck”)

Me: Judge STEVEN Barrett!

Both of us: Shrieking like teenage girls.

Me: Oh my God – I forgot – Judge Barrett was so nice to me and it was definitely because he told me in my first year that his daughter got into Williams and he was so happy.  It had to be that because I was a shi*ty lawyer!

JBD: And I remember him speaking nicely of this ADA from Williams!

ME: This is awesome! (this may be why people of my ilk don’t get into clubs like this.  No one has ever called anything close to this mundane as “awesome” in a shrine of coolness like Tenjune).

(Contrast this entire exchange with my set three days earlier where I nearly got into a fight to the death at a midtown pub – COMEDY!!!)

We spoke for a little bit more, basically in awe of this tremendous coincidence.  Somehow I brought up Breaking Bad (I have an amazing array of avenues with which to introduce that show into conversation – example: Hey, did you see that Obama’s poll numbers are down?  “Yeah, but you know what’s up – Breaking Bad’s ratings!”) and she informed me that Judge Barrett was a big fan of Breaking Bad.  All I could think was, damn – if I was still an ADA in the Bronx, not only would I have health care paid for by NY, a steady salary,some  pride and a mother who did not worry about me as much, but also ANOTHER thing besides Williams College for Judge Barrett and me to bond over.  Then JBD told me that the Judge was also a fan of Hawaii Five-0 and the good feelings subsided.

So Tenjune went well and like they say the best things in life are free because I did not get paid a cent.  But I was comped three gin and tonics, which according to Tenjune is a $458 value so I guess I made out like a bandit.

Mohegan Sun

Saturday was a trip to Mohegan Sun (via Greyhound/Peter Pan bus lines in conjunction with my endorsement for Poverty) to open for Michael Winslow, also known as the sound guy from Police Academy.  When I arrived to Mohegan Sun a woman at the casino said, “You look just like Dwayne The Rock Johnson.”  I said, “Yeah I get that. And Adam Sandler” And then she howled with laughter.  And I cried inside. Naturally no one would confuse me with either of those multi-millionaires at Mohegan Sun for a number of reasons.  Ballers don’t arrive on Greyhound, don’t make their first meal at the casino a trip to Johnny Rockets and definitely don’t play $5 on the penny slot machine and call it a night.

 

I went to check in and was informed that I was to go to the VIP check in.  I then asked them to send a reference letter to the bouncers at Tenjune to let them know that I am, in fact, a VIP.  I went up to my room, wrote out my set and then soaked up the Mohegan Sun ambiance:

  • I enjoy casinos.  They are like the south.  People are either bringing their A game physically or their F game.  Not a lot of people putting in B+ effort.  That is where I come in.  My fashion line/taste could simply be called B-
  • Asians dominate the casino!  If you love Asians casinos are a great place (I don’t mean if you want to have sex with ironing board shaped Asian women because you “like” tiny, boyish figures i.e. you have not yet come to grips with your homosexuality).  They are everywhere.  And don’t take this negatively.  It is just a fact.  Which I guess means if you really hate Asians, Mohegan Sun is also a great place because you get to see lots of Asians losing money.
  • A Ben And Jerry’s open until 330 am – noted.

So I got to the Cabaret theater, which seemed like it held 400 or so people (much bigger than a comedy club of that same capacity, but the people are not herded together like slaves on a slave ship to maximize club profit).  The crowd was full by showtime which was cool, but Michael Winslow was not there yet.  He arrived at 915 but said the 6 credit introduction I was given to say when bringing him (only a two person show so I was an emcee/feature hybrid) was “too much.”  So he accommodated me by typing up an 11 credit introduction with jokes for me to read before bringing him up.  And he typed with only his index fingers.  So as soon as it printed I ran out on stage with it like it was a Supreme Court order to stop the execution of Troy Davis (too soon?) and the show began.

I did my set and made only two mistakes.  One was a momentum killing new jokes about halfway through the set.  They were warmed up and I sabotaged myself.  It was like DeNiro in Heat when he is about to escape with his girlfriend, but makes the fatal mistake of going after Waingro – success was right in front of me and I took it off course.

I got the crowd back pretty quickly though and then a few minutes later I got the 5 minute light.  Then I made a decision that ruined my weekend.  I opted to end with my Good WIll Hunting bit, which does well in clubs, but for a big theater-sized space was an iffy choice.  It got laughs throughout, but the final line fell completely flat.  And that was it.  For that crowd my Obama closer was the obvious choice and I just didn’t do it.  Part of me thought, maybe I will have time and part of me must have wanted to to take the risk (the House won per usual).  I knew better and yet I closed with the wrong bit.  I felt like the pitcher in this historic baseball game from 2001:

But unlike that scenario no one was clapping when I delivered my final pitch.  They eventually clapped in recognition for the 26 minutes that we shared that were enjoyable but sometimes, like a sporting event, it does not matter how well you played the game if your final play loses the game.

Michael Winslow went up and crushed and I have to say, his sound effects are frighteningly good (it’s been a while since I saw Spaceballs or Police Academy).  After the show some people went out of there way to tell me I was awesome which felt good.  Perhaps they went to the bathroom for my last three minutes.

I ended the night how any comedian living free in a casino for a night would end – by walking around looking at machines and tables that would get me in trouble and then settling on an ice cream sundae from Ben and Jerry’s (at midnight, so my finding out that they close at 330 am was a little over-confident on my part).  I sat alone on a bench while eating it and people-watched while people watched me.  What I realized is that if you are a grown man with a bizarre look of comfort and confidence sitting alone on a bench in a casino eating ice cream people (esp women) will only give you two looks: 1) is that guy special needs? or 2) that guy is the coolest customer in this place.  I got plenty of both.

So thanks to the Williams College alums at the show, the people with kind words after the Mohegan Sun gig and the Ben and Jerrys folks.  They helped make yet another week of comedy a fun and interesting experience.  Just kidding, comedy is still misery.

IF YOU LIKE READING THESE POSTS PLEASE GO TO FACEBOOK AND BECOME A FAN OF “RIGHTEOUS PRICK: THE OFFICIAL BLOG OF J-L CAUVIN” THANKS

 

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Pub Pummelling – When Comedy Goes Very Wrong

Last night I went three blocks from my house to go watch the consistently solid weekly show that Phoebe Robinson runs at Manchester Pub at 48th and 2nd.  I had no intention of performing.  Just wanted to watch and relax with some of the free nachos that Phoebe gets for the comics from the bar.  The show was set for 7pm but when I arrived at 6:59pm I saw no other comedians.  As it turned out, because of the UN doing UN things this week, and Obama doing Obama things, midtown east side was and is a mess.  So Phoebe was unable to make it past Park Avenue and the other comedians were coming late.

Rather than let the show be cancelled I figured, I will host the show and do some comedy community service.  Granted the crowd did not seem at all inclined to hear comedy, but all comedians have worked reluctant audiences.  That audience had an interesting cast of characters worth noting:

THE GOOD

  • 3 regulars sitting close to the stage, fairly tough guys and good supporters of the show.  If Manchester Pub is Altamont and the Comedians are the Rolling Stones, these guys would be our Hells Angels
  • A pair of women who did not seem to want comedy, but importantly were open to comedy. These are the swing audience members who will join in to whatever vibe the room adopts.
  • The comedians: Harriet Hallway, Ryan Johnson, Andrew Schwartztol  and Alex Carbano

THE BAD

  • Group of three men talking loudly near the stage – European
  • Group of three men talking loudly in a foreign language in the back – Asian

THE UGLY

  • Ginger dude and his chubby friend with sunglasses on the crown of his head in the back of the bar

I did 8 difficult minutes where half of the time I could barely hear myself and the other half getting individual laughs that were drowned out by all the talking.  I brought Harriet up first and she tried valiantly, but like all efforts last night, failed to shift the room’s attention fully to the stage (with the exception of when she mentioned porn, which apparently is the universal language to men, both domestic and foreign).  Ryan went up next and cut his time about two minutes short.  Then Andrew went up and a show that was a shaky ride at best turned into this:

Before Andrew went up I asked the crowd to settle down and that the show was going to be very short.  All we needed was 15 minutes of their attention and they might even end up enjoying the remainder of the show.  Andrew got up and the crowd was as quiet as they had been all show.  But then the European table started chatting loudly again and Andrew broke off what little momentum the show had built and did a touch of crowd work with that table.  They ignored him, as they had everything else that was not a comment about porn from a female comedian.  And then the chubby dude from “THE UGLY” group interrupted.

For back story, to give you an idea of how physically intimidating Andrew Schwartzol is – imagine Woody Allen banged Ellen Degeneres and they had a kid.  Pretty easy prey for a heckler, especially in a show that is already fraught with difficulties.  As Andrew worked through a set, with the crowd calmer than they had been all show, a douchebag in the back (sunglasses resting on the crown of his head guy) yelled out, “We are having a drinking game – whenever one of your jokes bombs we have a drink, so we are getting drunk.”

The crowd quickly lost interest as Andrew and Chubby Sunglasses had an awkward heckler-hecklee conversation.  I got back on stage and with only one comedian remaining I thought I could diffuse the situation so I said, “Hey guys we only have one more comedian and don’t worry Andrew, that dude has to leave soon so he can anonymously post hateful YouTube comments at home.”

Now, on a scale of 1-10 of cruelty, that insult was a 3 at best.  But apparently it was enough for sunglasses’ ginger friend to start making “you wanna go” faces.  So I asked Ginger was his problem was, since his friend was being a “piece of sh*t.”  Ginger and I had the following exchange (approximation:

Ginger: Why don’t you try sounding out anonymously?

J-L: Why are you guys being assholes?  So the show is not going well and you decide to be jerks?

Ginger: Your show is going terribly and then you start talking sh*t to my friend?

J-L: Your friend interrupted the show you idiot!

Ginger: Just keep trying to say anonymously.

J-L: This has no place here, but I have a law degree from Georgetown so don’t talk down to me like your are smarter than me because you are not.

Ginger: Well my Dad was a DA in New York so your law degree doesn’t impress me.

J-L: Wow – dd you just play the “My Daddy is an important man” card?  What is this fifth grade?

After some more mumblings and curse words I brought up Alex to close the show.  He did his best to interact with the crowd and change the tone, but people had completely given up on the show by then.  So I got back on stage and ended with the following speech, worthy of Henry V:

“Well thanks to everyone for almost listening.  We are here every week and the shows aren’t usually this awkward, but hopefully we don’t have the two fu*king pieces of sh*t sitting in the back next week. (brief interruption by Ginger) You are lucky this is not my show and better yet, not my bar, or else I’d cut your fu*king face open with the broken end of a bottle.”  And on cue the three tough guys who support the show and look like swarthy pirates in modern day clothing yelled in support of me, “We love it – we got your fu*king back!”  Now nothing happened and one of the guys tried to make amends afterwards (I think on seeing me too close for comfort) and I just told him to have a modicum of respect for people trying to entertain.  Of course I was disappointed the evening did not go like this (though verbally I played the role of both DeNiro and Pesci – I guess Andrew would have been Ray Liotta):

I told Andrew after the show I am no fighter, but I am big and a comedian, which means I can cause damage and have nothing to lose.  Comedy, ladies and gentleman.  Comedy.

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Cafeteria Comedy

Last Friday I had a big pay day.  I had a gig at Holy Cross, a Catholic college in Worcester, Massachusetts.  This was a big show for me, not just because of the pay, but because it was a chance to finally exorcise the demons of Medgar Evers, which is the worst show I have ever been paid for (I have had to make this paid distinction because of a non-paying bar show I did in Park Slope, Brooklyn in late August of this year.  The Medgar Evers show made me want to kill other people, whereas the show in Brooklyn made me want to kill myself).

Joe Pontillo, who I asked to open for me, picked me up in midtown at 3:30 pm which the GPS calculated would get us to Worcester a few minutes before 7pm.  With the show at 10pm that would be plenty of time to eat, prep my set and be creepy around college girls for an hour or so.  Unfortunately thanks to New York traffic and one of the worst traffic slow downs I have ever seen, which we encountered in Connecticut, we arrived at 9pm in Worcester.  It actually could have been a lot worse, but Joe actually drove on the shoulder of the highway, passing approximately 100 cars, while I hid my face muttering “we are such assholes.”

So we arrived at the Holy Cross campus and my contact was a kid named Matt, who was a very nice fellow.  I asked him what my content restrictions were (an e-mail I received informed me that I would be told of some minor restrictions) and they were” no priest abuse jokes” and “no contraception jokes”.  I was ok with that since I was never abused by a priest and don’t believe in condoms either.  I have no jokes on either (but I assume the spirit of the restrictions and did not tell any abortion material – even though Catholic teaching is that that is more murder, not so much contraception).

My information was that I was performing at Hogan Ballroom. Sounded very promising.  When I walked in to the building I saw the Hogan Ballroom and it was a massive, elegant room, that was already full of people (apparently it was Homecoming weekend so there were lots of events and extra people).  And then, like in the movies where someone is excited about something elegant, only to have it revealed that there item is actually the dirty thing next to the elegant thing, Matt said, “OK, well let’s head downstairs.”

We descended several levels of stairs and entered a lounge/cafeteria that had a stage and chairs set up.  Another student liaison named Mike hooked me and Joe up with his meal card and we got some dinner down there.  While waiting for my chicken fingers, two guys came up to me and asked if I had been a DA.  I found this interesting and flattering that someone had seen me on a flyer and I guess had researched me.  Of course he and his friends ended up sitting far away from the stage talking, but they did not disturb the show so I guess I broke even.

The show went well.  We were competing with a very loud gathering at a pub area directly outside the cafeteria.  It was loud because the doors were open and as Matt said to me, “I have never seen those doors closed” when I asked if we could close the doors. That was enough of an ominous statement that we left the doors open.  There were probably 40 people in the vicinity of the show paying varying degrees of attention, mostly very good.  Joe opened and did yeoman’s work wrangling the crowd to attention for 13 minutes.  I then did 50 minutes to a pretty strong response, but I will be the first to admit that transitioning from 30 to 50 minutes is not as easy at it seems.  I have an abundance of material, but doing different lengths of time is not merely the act of adding on minutes – it is a different pacing and intensity.  I would compare it to being a great 200 meter runner and then running the 400 meter race.  Unless your name is Michael Johnson, it is a transition that requires some practice and training.  I was still fairly happy with the way the set went and I only counted 7 gasps and looks of judgment on sexual topics.  The post show reactions were what really defined the show though:

  1. 0 CD sales
  2. 0 facebook friend requests
  3. 0 twitter followers added
  4. One kid came up to me and looked at the CDs and said, “Oh sweet, just take one?” Yeah kid, just sign up for this credit card – get the fu*k out of here!
  5. My high school friend Scott, who I have not seen since 2001-ish, works near Worcester and came to the show.  He said to me post set, “I don’t think you’ll be back here, but if you are ever performing around here again I will get my friends and co-workers out.  You were hilarious.”

So thanks to the people who did watch and laugh and hopefully the check doesn’t bounce.  Hopefully I will prove Scott wrong (either by going back to Holy Cross or finally deciding that I am not funny).