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Unsolicited Information – Comedy Gripe of The Week

Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”  Well this may be true in love, but in comedy, my saying would be, “‘Tis better to have never been offered a gig, than told about it in what sounds like an offer and then told that it was not an offer, but just a check of availability.”  Not as poetic, so let me explain.

Over the last couple of weeks I have received two pieces of unsolicited information that I would prefer to have never received.  The first was from a comedian that I see occasionally at open mics.  The exchange was as follows:

Comedian:  Whoa dude you got fat.

Me: Yeah, I’ve been eating like shit for a while.

Comedian: No, but seriously!

Me: Well, I did not think it was that bad, but thanks.

Now there are a few problems with this.  For one, the dude is right.  Over the last couple of years performing on the road I feel like my physique has gone from Will Smith to Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  Two, I am a man so I could not get too defensive.  And three, when a comedian (not a profession known for its athletic physique and my critic was no exception) criticizes your fitness it feels like (as my friend Mick Diflo would joke) like a suicide prevention hotline operator has just told you that you are making good points.  So I did what any man with immense reserves of rage would do – I left the show, lifted weights for a while, declaring when I hit my target weight I am going to immediately jump off the scale,  find the comic and punch him in the face.

But this was just a personal example, only tangentially related to comedy, of someone offering unsolicited information that did not feel good.  In that case I did what I normally do with bad feelings – I let them stew inside and hope that they become triggers for positive results.  My second example, however, is a much more annoying example of unsolicited information because I have no outlet to turn the frustration into something positive.  Other than this blog.

A few weeks ago I got an e-mail from someone producing a web/TV comedy thing – basically comedians performing 7 minutes in a theater that will then be taped and dispersed in some on-line or syndicated format.  Most importantly it paid $1000.  The email provided all this information, other comedians that had done it and asked me if I was available one of the two filming days.  I was excited, mainly because it paid $1000.  A friend of mine who had done the show verified that it was a great opportunity, so I happily replied that I was available and would be happy to do it.

Then I got a phone call.

The phone call consisted of being told that they were just starting to compile their list of comedians, but they were glad I was available.  They also told me that they had just finished the “C’s” and once they got through the “Z’s” I would be informed if I was selected.

Huh?

Now comedy finds many ways to make you feel bad.  Contests, bringer shows, grueling auditions, auditions where the fix is already in, open casting calls where the fix is in, out of shape comedians calling you fat, etc.  The list goes on and on.  But in all examples, except the last one – you at least have to make the first step.  Even if you are baited or tricked or manipulated into joining a show or an audition for a contest with rosier-than-reality promises, you still have to make the first step, like the old Apex Tech commercials used to say.

But this was the first time a comedic entity had come for me to get me interested in something AND THEN told me, “nope, not yet.”  I now felt for the dogs I used to walk when I was in middle school and I would wave the leash at them to see their joyful reactions and then tell them, “Ok, after I finish watching this Darkwing Duck episode – haha!”  Why give me all the details and ask me if I am available on certain dates, as if I, God forbid, matter in the equation, only to then tell me – “OK you are in our top 5000, we will let you know when we have made our decision”?

Perhaps there wasn’t enough anger among comedians that week and the booker/producer just wanted to give me more fuel, but here is a novel idea.  If you are booking a show – come up with your list of comedians, then call them.  It removes annoyance and disappointment from the equation.  The unselected comedians (most likely including me) will never have been given false hope and the selected comedians will only have happiness without any anxiety.  It is as if the producer wanted to perform an Inception on me – plant a happy thought in the recess of his mind that we can then crush with newer and more relevant information.

So Tennyson may have been right about love, but he didn’t know sh*t about stand up.

NEXT BLOG – “Movie of the Week – THOR”  Check in Friday for it.

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The Hangover Effect

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

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

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

3) You are my mom.

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

Comedy Is About Characters, Not Comedy

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

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

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

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

Social Media

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

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

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

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

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

Comedy – The Most Hypocritical of the Arts

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

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

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

Good Things Happen To Bad People

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

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

Comedy Leaves You Lonely

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

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

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Des Moines Journal: Bodily Reactions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Jean-Louis Be Goode

A musically appropriate summary of my trip to Baton Rouge so far (to the tune of Johnny B. Goode):

 

Deep down Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back with people obsessed with LSU’s  football team
There stood a comedy club made of earth and wood
Where telling jokes was a boy named Jean-Louis Be Goode
Who actually learned to read and write very well
But he preferred telling jokes inside a comedy hell

Go go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Jean-Louis Be Goode

He used to carry legal papers in a leather sack
Now he walks aside the roads and the railroad track
Oh, doing shi*ty southern gigs with no car
Since Ferguson wondering how he fell so far
The people watching his act would stop and say
Oh my when is the headliner gonna play

Go go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Jean-Louis Be Goode

His mother told him “Someday you will be a man,
And maybe then you’ll abandon your comedy plan
Dozens of people coming from miles around
To ignore the jokes you tell when the sun go down
Maybe someday your name will be in lights
saying  “Manager on duty tonight.”

Go go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Go J-L go
Go
Jean-Louis Be Goode

2 more shows tonight…

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Squeezing Into A Costume

A few years ago I was attending a Halloween party, but I did not have a costume.  I went to all the large stores that emerge in Manhattan like a plague in October every year to look for a costume.  There even was a section of pre-packaged costumes in the “large male” section or whatever they called it.  And everyone of the costumes in the pituitary affliction section said  -“will fit men up to 6’4″ tall.”  If you read this blog, know my jokes or have met me since I turned 19 you know that I am 6’7″.  It was that day that I had literally outgrown Halloween.

Comedy is starting to feel like a Halloween store to me.  Like a 6’4″ shooting guard in the NBA I am starting to feel like I have no position.  Sometimes I like to make political jokes, sometimes I like sharp social commentary, sometimes I like doing impressions and sometimes I like making the occasional crude joke.  But that is what you get when your favorite comedians range from Chris Rock to Jim Norton to Jerry Seinfeld to Patric O’Neal to Gary Gulman to Bill Hicks to Greg Giraldo.  I like different styles and I just like to write funny things.  Perhaps I should just get a job writing for comedians, except my ego is not ready to give up the stage or to submit my writing to potential overwhelming rejection.

Last night I received a very precise and helpful critique from a club owner regarding my set.  Without getting into specifics, it is clear that to make it in comedy I am going to have to choose a persona and style and be consistent within it.  For example after 7 minutes of jokes that are detailed, sharp, clever and clean, it was not consistent closing with a joke about Moms pimping photos of their kids on Facebook and masturbating to the photos just on principle.  The joke got a big laugh, but was slightly out of sorts with the rest of my set.

The thing that makes me sad about this is that comedy is no different than acting.  Live at Gotham had made that brutally evident to me after being passed over several seasons and then watching a show that looked like they were trying to re-cast The Hangover (sans Bradley Cooper), no matter what sacrifices had to be made occasionally in the comedy department.  Humor is still important of course, but I had always hoped that I would not have to necessarily be a niche performer – that I could just say funny things and if a few happened to be dirty or provocative, or if a few were clean and a few others were socially critical I could do it if the crowd laughed.   Basically because I hate niche comedians.  And I don’t want to be them.  For all the frustrations I have with comedy it would be unforgivable to become one of them.

One of the other critiques I got was that I sometimes come off as “a bit of a dick” on stage. 

No sh*t. 

Fu*k Halloween.

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Mick Diflo: Comedy Unicorn & Comedy Inspiration

Last night I was on a bringer at Gotham Comedy Club, trying to make a tape for some college showcases (see my epic mission statement that this is the only reason to do them).  My routine had video games, masturbation and a couple of decent bits and I would rate my performance as a B.  That basically means it was an F.  I was trying to polish some newer bits and get a tape together and it was basically a failure on that level.

So after my spot I went outside briefly and had a tirade that would make David Mamet blush.  But my night was about to take a turn for the better.

I am not going to bullsh*t the loyal readers of this blog.  I find it hard to be completely happy for other comics (I could have Daniel Plainview’s monologue tattooed on my back).  Stand Up Comedy is not a zero sum game, but comedy work is – when one guy or girl gets an audition or work, that means I didn’t.  Even for good friends I can be happy, but being 100% happy is almost always impossible.  But one of the few friends that is the exception to that rule is Mick Diflo.

Mick Diflo – comedian

Mick Diflo is well known in NYC comedy because he is a constant presence at open mics working on his distinct brand of clever and dark humor.  But he is also a presence at other people’s bringer shows, supporting other comics trying to make it.  Sure he, like anyone else, can gripe about what one has to do to “make it,” but unlike someone like me, he never has let that interfere with doing a good show or being supportive of other people’s success.

Well last night at Gotham after I performed I went outside and delivered a rant that would make David Mamet blush, but there was something to make it better.  Mick Diflo delivered a flawless set and got passed at Gotham.

I have seen Mick perform probably 100 times and last night was the best I’ve ever seen.  It was like seeing a gymnast do a perfect routine, stick the landing and not get raped by her Romanian gym coach.  And then after the show, the owner of Gotham gave Mick the word that he was passed (meaning approved by the owner to get paid work from the club).  For those who are not comedians – this is a very important step.

What Mick did was basically shatter, albeit with tireless work and a relentless optimism masked by his macabre humor, the idea that bringers cannot work (or if you are still cynical, then he is the exception that proves the rule).  As Jim Dodge said to me yesterday while looking at Mick – “Mick has no backing, no management, just merit and talent and he got passed from a bringer. I feel like I’m looking at a unicorn.”  Mick Diflo – mythological creature.  And don’t think that I am confusing this with some sort of floodgate being opened – I do not expect to hear great news from a lot of comics, but this is good enough for right now.  And by right now I mean for a few days.

When Mick told me that he got passed something weird happened to me – I felt 100% happy for him.  Usually I would instinctively think, “why the fu*k not me! fu*k this!”  But last night I felt nothing but happiness for Mick.  I am sure comedians around the city are happy for him to in the same way I am.  So today, for all those who read this blog to read complaints or funny stories about the comedy world or the world in general – sorry.  Today should be for struggling or up and coming comics what Barack Obama’s election was for black people: we never thought this day would come, but it has.  Yes Mick Can.

Congratulations Mick – thanks for restoring some optimism in this business for up and coming comics.  And if you are a friend or fan of mine – look up Mick on YouTube – you will enjoy him.

Of course if a year from now he has not gotten any paid spots at Gotham then I may be just a tad more cynical again.

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Midtown’s Weirdest & Brooklyn’s Finest

Last night was another installment of my bi-monthly comedy show “Always Be Funny.”  The West Village Edition on one Saturday a month has been consistently strong, even though it costs money, but the Free show on River Bar (located at 42nd and 10th in midtown) has been struggling for audience.  It started out strongly, but with winter months and just general disdain fewer people have made the trek over to 10th Avenue (it might as well be west of the Mississippi).  So last night was a pleasant surprise when I saw a decent group of people in the cozy Hells Kitchen bar.  But looks can be deceiving.

When emcee Pat Breslin got on stage he may have felt like Bruce Willis in the 6th Sense because of the 12 non-comedian patrons, 10 continued their three respective conversations as loudly as possible.  To be fair, they may felt like Malcolm X, i.e., “We didn’t land on Always Be Funny; Always Be Funny landed on us!”

But the show continued with Helen Hong doing strong crowd work to get them involved, included two condescending “stage manager,” who I think were just two lesbians who thought this tiny 10th Avenue bar was secluded enough to just have a quiet conversation about stage lighting and organic produce without being bothered by annoying mainstream heterosexuals.

Mick Diflo took the stage next and absolutely killed it. By killed I mean had all the comics laughing and people still largely ignoring the show.  However, I think he did get the crowd’s attention when he began describing his bloody penile discharge.  By this time the crowd was down to about 8, but a few patrons had come in and actually watched and started to appreciate the free entertainment, especially this older black couple who were enjoying the show so much and sitting at attention you’d think they were at a fancy bringer show at a soul sucking comedy club!

Jon Fisch took the stage next and started with a seemingly innocuous line.  There was a small poster on stage for an upcoming Cancer benefit at River Bar and Jon Fisch said (paraphrasing), “Perhaps Cancer is not the best stage prop for a show.” To which a drunk woman (who is actually becoming our show’s first consistent patron) said, “Cancer is not funny!” and continued to berate Jon for most of his set.

After that I took the stage and did about 25 minutes of work on only 3 topics: the WNBA (16 minutes), relationships (5 minutes) and Obama (5 minutes).  Women’s professional sports just baffle me in general, but i have devised a new video game – it’s called Conquer The Bad Sports.  The first level will be men’s and women’s curling, but as you move up levels it just becomes women’s pro sports. First golf, then soccer and then the last level is the entire WNBA in one arena and you have to destroy them all to save the integrity of sports.  Then, when you think the game is over, you have to face off against the game’s bosses – Serena and Venus Williams.  And just when it looks like they are beating you – it is revealed that Venus is actually a man and she helps you defeat Serena.  Next Play Station franchise – you are welcome.

So after my diatribe/set the show concluded with a solid set from Calvin Cato for the 3 people I had not exhausted with my comedic and legal destruction of the WNBA.  I then went home to chug bleach.  Hopefully our April Fools show does better at River or else I feel like it will be time to pull the plug on that location.  At this point it basically feels like Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby.

But as if one bad crowd was not enough – this morning I attended a showing of Brooklyn’s Finest at the world famous Times Square AMC – with 25 screens and dozens of arrests each weekend.  The movie was actually quite entertaining (think Training Day), but here were the real highlights:

  • The movie started 25 minutes late for no reason.
  • The amount of pre-show talk was at a level I have never heard before in my life.
  • The talk during the actual movie was surprisingly low, except for when there were breasts on screen (which is when I and twenty other gentlemen of color stood up and ran up and down the aisle screaming “Damn them titties look GOOD!”) and the young Latina sitting next to me who took a 6 minute phone call during the movie for what actually appeared to be a job interview or set up for a job interview.
  • The old white guy sitting behind me who just before the movie started said to himself, “I’m just glad this is not a midnight movie.  This is not one I’d see then.” Racist? Maybe, maybe not. But 100% right.
  • Per information I have been told by someone who used to manage at that location, there was definitely at least one plain clothes police officer at the movie.  That is a job I would love to have.  Carry a gun, shoot people who start sh*t at movies, watch movies while working, get a sick pension and cheat on your spouse a ton (I worked at the DA’s office so I have worked with cops).  Maybe it is time I pursued that.
  • The new trailer for Wall Street 2 is damn good.

The bottom line is if you find yourself on 42nd street on the west side of Manhattan there will be funny stuff happening. So catch a movie and come see us on April Fools’ Day at 830.

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Will Tell Jokes For Food

The toughest part of comedy is not in telling or writing jokes, at least for me.  The toughest part I have is with the marketing/self-promotion/getting actual money for doing comedy.  For example I am in the finals of a competition at Caroline’s where if I win I get a paid weekend opening for someone.  If I finished second, third or fourth I get to go home and take out my unpaid frustration in a game of Wii Tennis.

I have also received my fair share of guest spots, which translated into layman’s terms is, “You are pretty funny, but we have no real incentive to pay you and you cannot afford to refuse an unpaid spot because you secretly believe that you will be discovered, or at least appreciated by management and/or talent scouts, who are unlikely to be watching you.”  And that is true.

So the way to make money for an up and coming comic like myself is to take the show on the road.  Unfortunately this is proving rather difficult.  Here have been some of my favorite responses that I have received personally or through someone acting on my behalf:

“Please stop with the e-mails.  We will contact YOU if we are interested.” – this was sent after an obnoxious series of two e-mails sent a week apart (one with clips and one following up a week later – how rude of me).

“What do you bring to our club and how will you increase business?”- hopefully jokes

“He should just buy a car and travel the country for two years stopping by clubs.  Is he Jewish?  No, then he’s fu-ked.  He will probably have to get used to sucking men’s di-ks.” – yes this is an actual conversation that took place (mostly tongue-in-cheek, as opposed to cock-in-cheek),  apparently Hollywood casting agents have now re-located to help run comedy clubs in the Midwest.

The best part is that two of these quotes came from what are known as “B clubs” meaning not the city’s primary venue for stand up comedy.  That is not a knock on these places, but goes to show that some of these clubs seem to have a Napoleonic complex.  And it introduces a Catch 22.  I would love to tell clubs that cannot act or respond with some decency or respect to go fu-k themselves or threaten some sort of No Country For Old Men-style cross country trip, but they do have the power and they hold the keys to what I want – a chance to tell lots of people my jokes and to get paid for it.

I’d like to think that if I ever attained star status or mega star status that I would vilify the reputations of these clubs or simply buy them and bulldoze them, a la the trailer home of Jenny at the end of Forrest Gump, but that probably won’t happen for two reasons.  I will be too busy counting Benjamins and the clubs will be too busy kissing my ass (hence the Catch 22 – I lash out now I never attain success.  I attain success – reason for lashing out abates).  But as someone who was able to maintain a healthy grudge against their high school basketball coach for over a decade (not to mention how long I will get material out of more recent slights) I think my friends can attest that if anyone can hold on to that morbid fantasy in spite of success it is me.

But in the meantime anyone know where I can get some cheap knee pads?