Ride

Being a stand-up comedian is a lot like dating a coke-head. Long nights full of fun and excitement, connected by soul crippling days of bitter disappointment and self pity. The emotional ups and downs of comedy make even the largest roller coaster look like “It’s a Small World.” One night they love you. The next night, you’re shit. One booker wants to work with you whenever possible. The next one bans you from his rooms. (Fuck you too, Monarch) One day you’re a comedy genius. The next day, you can’t write a single sentence. That’s the business. That’s the craft. I have learned not to get too excited or bummed about anything that happens. When it bombs, fuck it. When it kills, fuck it. The green rooms in comedy clubs should have a cardboard cutout of George Carlin drawing a straight line about four feet high which reads, “You must be this stable to get on this ride.”

Wow, I just went back and read that paragraph. It reads like some opening voice over in a Matt Damon movie. Like “Rounders” but for comedy…”Pounders.”

What am I trying to say here? What is my point? I have no fucking idea. It is Wednesday at 4:30 and I got a deadline. I really didn’t have much to say this week and I keep hearing and reading of other comics’ disappointment in the Last Comic Standing auditions.

Want to know how it went for me? I stood in line. I got rained on. I got hooked up. I got pulled out of line. I stood in another line. I waited in a room for three hours. I got to audition. I got to see the camera crew and Greg Giraldo laugh silently. I got one minute. I got cut-off. I got told I was too dark. I got told my setups were too long. I got told it was funny but since I already got two “no’s” it doesn’t matter. I got exit interviewed. I got rushed outside. I got to see an 80 year old woman get a pass. I got to go home. I got to do a show that night at Jon Lovitz. I got to do the same set. I got five applause breaks in ten minutes. “Remain seated please. permanecer sentados por favor .”

That’s the business in a nutshell. Anybody who gets into stand-up comedy for any reason other than to express exactly what is in their mind is wasting their time. I often hear comics say, “When I get famous…” When you get famous? Even famous comedians aren’t really that famous. When was the last time you saw Jerry Seinfeld or Chris Rock on the cover of US Weekly? If you’re in this game for fame, quit. If you’re in this game for money, quit. If you’re in this game for prestige, quit and then go kill yourself for being such an idiot. I wish more people would.
Quit, not kill themselves.

I used to own a business. My sales reps would go door to door. We sold all kinds of shit. That’s not important. What is important is that, believe it or not, door to door sales has a lot of turnover. We had this joke; say you were training a new guy named Ted but Ted didn’t come in one day because he didn’t sell anything the day before. “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Ted.” “Ted, who?” “That’s the business.” I, fucking, love that joke.

Had you told me ten years ago that in ten years, I’d be doing stand-up comedy and selling shit door to door was the ultimate training for it I would have told you that you were crazy…then I would have pitched you; and I would have sold you too. If you think I can write, you should see me sell. Door to door sales, like comedy, has too many swings for all but the most dedicated.

So what is the lesson? What is the point? I guess the point that I am trying to make is this: Fuck Last Comic Standing! I hate that fucking show! I can’t wait to go down to the live taping of the finale and fire bomb the whole fucking theater! Then they’ll be sorry they ever said “no” to me. Oh yeah, they’re gonna be sorry! AND IT’S GONNA BE FUNNY! SO VERY FUNNY! AND WE CAN ALL LAUGH AT HOW FUNNY IT IS! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Hang in there, dedicated comics. You never know when the next door is going to be gold…or, at least, a chick getting out of the shower.