Fair enough. I won’t talk about it. I’ll write about it. It was recently brought to my attention that my stand up act is too focused on material and, subsequently, neglectful toward the crowd. “People want to be pulled in, Man. They want to be a part of the show.” Why, thank you for the input, random tooth-deprived chemical enthusiast at this shit bar that happens to have an amp and a mic. While I can appreciate the fact that people like to be involved in the show they’re watching, I refuse to believe that crowd work should triumph material on a comic’s priority list.

Not every comic that thrives off of the crowd can be a Don Rickles. A lot of comedians, especially on the open mic circuit, will sometimes pester the room with “where ya from?” or “ I wanna fuck you because you’re a girl” or “you look like someone who’s not you.” It’s a sign of either being unprepared or having a lack of confidence in the material that they have. I think riffing off of bystanders can enhance a set, but there are only a small few that can or should build their entire shtick around that.

Besides, I give the average comedy fan more credit than that. Granted, we are living in a self-obsessed society… let me rephrase that: I realize that I’m living in a self- obsessed society, but I’ve always considered stand up fans to be smarter, more socially conscience, more broadly minded than the average citizen. After all, there is a vast disparity in intellectual maturity between those that can take a fucking joke and those that cannot.

Not to speak ill of my contemporaries, but I have sat through countless sets that have totally lacked entertaining substance. For a comedy purist, there’s nothing more frustrating than watching someone that doesn’t have any material. It’s a waste of stage time and it fucks off the vibe in the room for the talented and prepared performers that have to follow that shit. If the guy (or girl, or tranny with a cell phone at The Comedy Store) that came to do their act, but didn’t bring an act, were to make up for their dip-shittery by owning the room with clever, off-the-cuff observations about the people in attendance and about the night in general –that would be peachy. It’s just seldom for things to go down that way. Odds are, if you fail to write five minutes of funny fodder then you’re probably going to struggle with turning small talk into laughs off the top of the head.

I’ve seen comics nonchalantly piss away the meat of their set with “what do I want to talk about tonight?” or “what do you guys want to talk about?” Aren’t we exalted on a stage, voice amplified, because we have something to say? Isn’t that the whole point? Some of the best in the business –Oswalt, CK, Attell, Cross –hardly ever stray from their material to pay special attention to one in a countless sea of attentive fans. If they so happen to, it’s usually because they’re provoked, by an attention whore, to do so. The only place for an attention whore at a comedy show is on the stage.

Not to say that sticking to a script is a must, some of the best moments and biggest laughs in comedy are ad-libbed, I just urge whoever gets on the comedy platform do so with a point of view or a few punch lines. Something. Make the effort because the payoff is outstanding. When you create something that you’re proud of, then you share it with a room full of strangers and everything clicks and they dig it and they laugh their assholes off –it induces quite the cathartic feeling and triggers an endorphin release that all of the sex and drugs in Hollywood would fail to rival. That’s why successfully selling material and killing it provides an adrenaline rush that lasts well into the next day. It’s enough to give me a raging heart boner.

That’s why I’ll never mind being considered a “material comic” versus being considered a “crowd comic.” Anyone that can effortlessly work a crowd and have a stellar set without using a single prepared bit has my full-blown respect. That’s an important attribute to be equipped with. At the same time, writing is as vital to stand up comedy as a distorted level of self-esteem (be it too low or too high). Hardcore writing, at that. In the inspiring style of such Men of the pen as Bob Dylan and Hunter S. Thompson. I’m talking about staying up all night with the notebook, exploring ideas, going off on tangents, making connections, getting every last drop of your creative juices on paper so you’re ready for the stage and you’re not referencing scribbles on an El Pollo Loco receipt. I’m not saying I posses such ability, but I stride for that. It’s all a part of the journey.

As rightfully beloved and unquestionably hilarious as a crowd guy like Rickles is, I don’t think his zinger-rich act can hold a candle to the material presented to us by the powerful minds of guys like George Carlin, Bill Hicks, Dave Chapelle and so on.

As far as my act is concerned, I’ve performed less than 70 times and I have approximately 500 jokes/ bits that I consider stage worthy. I’m not a seasoned performer, my delivery needs more polishing than a pair of hobo’s boots, and my shit will always have room for improvement –but I’m ready. Not ready for the big leagues, not ready for an HBO special. I’m ready to make an effort on stage. Ready to present my perception of this enigmatic cunt we call comedy. As long as I consider myself a comedian, I will live and die by my material and, more often than not, I will throw down my punch lines through the entirety of the set without even referencing anyone in the room. Does that make me a prick? No. It makes me a storyteller. or at least, for now, a joke teller.

That’s just me, though. How you doin’?