The Story, In My Eyes

Both things were unexpected. One, that before the show started I was so sure my piece was going to go badly and, two, that Dick-Joke-Guy was so unimpressive, it put me at ease again.

My approach to comedy is to tell a story. Think of Bill Cosby, Robert Klein, George Carlin. Then think of some CPA/CFO who can only wish he told comedic stories like they do. I take a real piece of my life, twist it out of shape, draw glasses and a mustache on it, squirt whipped cream down its pants and then tell the audience this is the way I found it. I imagine this is funny.

When I walk into the comedy club, I become aware that I am old enough to be the father of most of the other comics and nearly old enough to be grandfather to the rest. I become aware of this even when it isn’t true and some of them are within ten years of my age.

The audience, likewise, is, in its entirety, made up of 20-somethings who came to hear jokes about drugs and dicks, liberally decorated with fucks and shits and things of that nature. Again, I perceive this to be true even though it isn’t.

Last night when I walked into Go Bananas, the first comedian I saw was a young guy talking to his fellow, youthful, comedians about some skit he was writing, “consisting entirely of dick jokes.” Everyone in the audience was a friend of these kids and was anticipating jokes about Kanye West, Axe grooming products and pot. This was true even though I had 11 friends in the audience and, anyway, pot belongs to my generation more than it does to those youths.

For a moment I contemplated what my friends would think if I decided I didn’t want to go up. I didn’t remember feeling this unsure of my material ever before. Why did I think the part about preschool would be amusing to anyone? For sure, this will be the last time I do this.

The MC came on. An older comic was the first amateur and struggled with his material (though he seemed unfazed by the struggle). There was another guy and then Dick-Joke-Guy went up. He had a piece of paper with his jokes or notes about jokes, which he referred to throughout his set. His material was very uneven. I laughed, I sighed, I got bored and glanced around the room. As I watched D-J-G, I knew that I would be okay. He was not as I had initially perceived and neither was the room. I knew my story, I had the glasses and whipped cream ready, and I’d been up there before. I would get some laughs, maybe have some slow spots, but no one would throw anything at me and I’d sit down and enjoy the rest of the show.

There were some better comedians than me up there and there were some worse. I didn’t forget anything, I didn’t go over my time, I didn’t bomb, I didn’t quit, I didn’t throw up, I didn’t cry. People laughed. They laughed where I expected and even laughed at the preschool bit. They laughed at the jokes and not at me – I think - it's hard to say with those lights in your eyes. Still, that is the last time I ever do standup. That is true, even though it is not.


The last picture is of my friend, Alex Stone, a very talented comedian, young enough to be my son, but who was not at GB last night.

Get Up, Stand Up

Every couple of hours I panic. I’m going to forget a hunk. I’m not going to hit the line right. It is just not funny. Not even to me any more. It’s not 5 minutes. It’s about 3. I have to add a piece of another routine. No, then I’ll go over. I’ll miss the light. They will start playing me off the stage

Every couple of hours I get psyched. This is funny. People will laugh – they will laugh where I set them up to laugh. The adrenaline will pump. I will do it under 5 and get off. I will feel the applause.

I can’t write music. I don’t “get” music. I see people pick up an instrument and look at music, and play it, and take it somewhere they I can’t even figure out, and I want so badly to go there. I can look through the glass and know it’s there but I’ll never be inside the music.

Comedy I get. I listen to comedians and I hear the joke and, at the same time, I see the construction of it. I see the notes and feel the timing. I can appreciate the talent behind it or I can see how to fix it. When I think of a standup bit, I have the voice inside me; I know how it should sound. Sometimes it comes out of my mouth just like I planned it, sometimes it doesn’t.

I’m not a professional, I’m not that good, but I’m funny. I’ve done only amateur nights but I know I’m funnier than some of the people getting paid for it. At least, every couple of hours, I think I am. Then, later, I’m not.

I don’t know how it happened this time. I have not been sleeping well. Maybe my mind was foggy from fatigue. I had a headache at work and I asked someone for a Tylenol; she was out of those and gave me something else – supposedly an Advil, but possible quaaludes – you never know. Whatever the reason, I signed up to do 5 minutes Wednesday – amateur night at Go Bananas.

I had thought of something to write about for this blog. Then I remembered having done that topic in standup a couple years ago. I looked up the routine I wrote and, hey, it was pretty funny. What if I went back up? I love it when it works. People had been asking me for some time if I was going to perform again. I kept saying no. I gave reasons but the reasons have faded in my mind. It’s been a couple years. Why not do it again?

For the past week I have thought about this performance every hour of every day. Oh, I have been distracted by work and chores and food and occasional sleep, but it’s always there. I’ve gone over and over it and really made some improvements.

Every couple of hours I get psyched. This is funny. People will laugh – they will laugh where I set them up to laugh. The adrenaline will pump. I will do it under 5 and get off. I will feel the applause.

Every couple of hours I panic. I’m going to forget a hunk. I’m not going to hit the line right. It is just not funny. Not even to me any more. It’s not 5 minutes. It’s about 3. I have to add a piece of another routine. No, then I’ll go over. I’ll miss the light. They will start playing me off the stage.

I’m starting to remember why I stopped.

Legally Bland

Many people find it contradictory that a CPA can write humor for the radio and do standup. Yet it is this disassociative identity disorder which got me my current job; comedy writing came up during my interview and the CEO said, "you will fit right in with the sick people we have here" (I may be paraphrasing, but I'm not kidding). If you don’t think a CPA/CFO can be funny, you haven’t seen the financial statements I prepare.
For some reason, when a writer needs a character to be really boring, the character is an accountant. But the fact is that the most boring. Professionals. Ever. Are lawyers.
I know of a few accountants that have become comedians: Fred MacAuley, Gary Gulman, Bob Newhart and me. I can’t name one lawyer who became a comic…because I didn’t Google it (so don’t fill the comments with examples).
Comedians aside, the only reason people don’t identify lawyers as boring is that the stench of scum-sucking and bottom-feeding repels us before we ever detect the eau d’ennui that clings to them. When the Stereotype Board was handing out assignments, lawyers had their hands so full with “Shady”, “Shyster”, “Ambulance Chaser” and similar plaques and certificates that when “Boring” was bestowed to them, they turned to the accountants and said, “here, hold this”, and we did.
Accountants are people who wanted to be lawyers but didn’t want to deal with the three years of law school. We spent too much time partying and being fun guys to qualify for law school anyway. And it must be that Law School has courses on Advanced Boring.
My “lawyer = boring” theory was confirmed today when I attended a seminar on “The Legalities of Doing Business in China”. You probably fell asleep just reading the title of that. The seminar was given by lawyers, for lawyers. I was there because my company does business in China and I needed to know something about the taxes and regulations. It was one long day of legal terms: “forbearance”, “binding” and “regulatory”; I thought I was at a gastro-interology seminar.
The guy who was put in to bat cleanup (speaking after lunch and trying to keep us all awake) was the most boring of all. What’s more, he kept losing his place in his notes. He droned on about, “to secure…uh…rights..to, uh, intellectual property is….uh…paramount and…you, uh, need to do due diligence on…uh... your trading partner and….uh….blah, blah, blah….uh….blah, er, I mean, blah.”
Ben Stein! That’s who! Ben Stein is a lawyer who became a comedian. And what sort of character does this lawyer/actor play? He’s the boring guy. (This is the only video of Ben's most famous role I could find. It is obnoxious, so just watch the first part.)

Lawyers don't get Humor-Blogs.com but they vote for my entries.

He Got Caught In The Spotlight

but when we get to the end, he wants to start all over again.Friday night I performed at a show in Northern Kentucky. I had recently met this woman, Teri Foltz, who is about my age and teaches English at a Northern Kentucky high school. She also teaches stand up comedy there and she performs at open mic nights at places like Go Bananas. That's how we met: we were both performing at GB about a month ago and started talking. After that show, she asked if I would like to be part of this show on Friday. The show was set up by friends of hers that wanted to see her perform more than 5 minutes (which is all you get at GB) and do it in a smoke-free, f-word-free zone. Teri's husband is a jazz saxophone player and performs with a combo. the show was a mix of jazz and comedy with myself, a couple other stand up guys Teri likes, the emcee who does comedy songs and Teri as the featured comedian.I had 10 minutes which meant I had to put together two sets I'd done at GB previously. I spent a lot of time editing and weaving them together and I was not real confident that i had all the changes memorized. The show was in a theater (a former strip club) in Newport KY. Several of my friends were there and I was worried about what they were about to see. For two weeks I had been thinking that this would be the last time I performed - the pre-show stress is wearing on me. I was more nervous before the show than I usually am, worried that I would forget major parts or just mess up the delivery of punch lines as I was trying to think ahead to the next piece. Teri's husband and his jazz combo started the evening. The music was smooth and sweet and soothing, though not soothing enough to take away my jitters. I could suddenly not think of how my routine started. The emcee/comedy-singer came on and was truly funny with a topical song. the first comedian, Mike Cody, went on and was very good. The audience laughed; I laughed; I pictured myself up there, bombing. The emcee came back and did a couple more funny songs - I liked him a lot. Then he was calling my name. I swallowed the butterflies hovering in my throat. I got up on stage and did the first joke**, which was about how I happened to be in the show. It got a bigger laugh than I expected. And so did the next line. My whole set went like that. My timing and delivery just came out right as if I was actually a comedian. Part of it was that the audience was the right age for my material. They connected to it and the feedback of laughter helped keep me going. (I did forget one line which made me also have to drop a later line that referred back to it - not a big deal, but it did, and does still, bother me) the final big punchlines got a great response and I left the stage feeling really good.I didn't hear the next 10 minutes - I went outside and was talking to Mike Cody, who had some very nice things to say and asked me if I wanted to perform at the Viper Club (in downtown Cincinnati) on amateur night (Mike is the emcee for those). We went back in and heard the other comic, who was funny, but unfortunately did not get a connection with the audience this time out. There was a jazz interlude, more emcee songs and then Teri Foltz got up. She also did very well. She has really good material, including biting remarks about why she chooses to teach high school instead of middle school or elementary grades. Her humor is witty and intelligent and the crowd really enjoyed it, as did I. There was more jazz and we hung around until most people had left and then went home. I still had adrenaline going and was ready to do it again; I was thinking about performing at the Viper Room and what material I would use. Now, a couple days later, I'm not sure about it. What if I can't get that same roll going with the timing and delivery? what if I forget stuff?

**"It's kind of a fluke that I'm even here. I just met Teri a few weeks ago when we both performed at Go Bananas. After I finished my set, Teri came up to me and just asked me straight out, 'How the hell tall are you anyway?' I said 6' 6". Apparently that's all the qualifications she was looking for because here I am."