A Tale Of Two Cities…and other stuff

I gave very serious consideration to giving up on fame and fortune in the world of comedy this weekend. I have seen the future…and it’s not me. The DC scene is chock full of talent, and yes I think I’m funny, but there are 3 guys in particular who are on a fast track. I’m not going to name any names, but if you’re a part of the DC comedy community, and aren’t completely delusional, you have some idea of who I’m talking about. They have a unique blend of raw talent, audience connectivity, and insight…and most importantly, they’re unassuming and genuinely nice people. They deserve the success that comes their way. I just ask that they put me in a movie…or something. Ok, had to get that out…on to my attempt at a funny and insightful post…

My recent comedy trek started off with a trip up to St. Mary’s, PA and Gunners Inn. This was a great show in a small town. 150 people who were there to have a good time. Shout out to Mark and Annette, who have an awesome staff and a fun room. Every once in awhile, a comedy audience contains a patron that is, in a word, a gift. There was a guy in this audience, who’s laugh sounded not unlike two cats fucking. I had to tell, maybe, 10 jokes tops in my 30 minute set. The rest of it was spent pointing out this guy’s response, to the uproarious delight of the crowd. Lotsa fun with the fine folk in St. Mary’s.

I woke up the next morning to a bit of rain as I packed up my stuff and headed to my next destination, Harrisonburg, VA. There’s one thing I like to treat myself to when I’m on the road. No, not whores & whiskey…that’s two things. Cracker Barrel. Love me some pancakes. But as I took the Plank Rd. exit off of 99S, another oasis caught my eye…
The Altoona H(.)(.)TERS…where the finest specimens of Altoonan femality serve up crappy wings with a side of fleshy distraction. And, no, “femality” isn’t a word…but it is a bitchin’ cheat code for Mortal Kombat…

Ok, onward to Harrisonburg. The trip was nothing but rain and fog the entire way…like driving through bisque, except a lot less delicious. I got to the gig at 4:30…the show wasn’t until 9. Luckily, there was a Regal about a block away. I caught a matinee of Waiting, which was an enjoyable way to kill the time. I’m pretty sure I could listen to Ryan Reynolds read the phone book. He was the highlight of a well-put-together cast. Dane Cook had his share of quotable lines, all of the actresses were sufficiently hot, and it’s always cool to see Chi McBride. And if you want to see a funnier food tampering scene, check out Road Trip, where Horatio Sanz *ahem* fixes DJ Qualls’ french toast…good stuff.

The gig, however, was not good stuff. It was a perfect storm for a shitty show, to say nothing of the torrential downpour outside. The room that was usually used for the comedy show was taken by a local cover band, moving us to a smaller stage near the bar. The band was The Worx. The bartender went a long way to describe them when she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them do anything original”…*sigh* The double standard of show business…this quartet of yuck-a-pucks can crank out a sub-par rock rendition of Black Eyed Peas’ Let’s Get It Started and the crowd goes apeshit, but if I try to do a prop-comic version of Bill Cosby’s The Dentist, I’m the talentless hack. Yes…I know…some might say there are plenty of “cover comics” out there. Just sayin’ is all. Anywho, the show starts, and I’m met by an ovation of 4 people…I drove 5 hours…now, I suck at math, but that’s a crappy ratio no matter how you slice it. The math got worse, with the addition of a table of young women who promptly began talking amongst themselves. And one of them turned around to another woman behind her and started loudly muttering, “He’s not funny…He’s not funny.” She’s entitled to her opinion, and I’d like to think that most people disagree with her (see the beginning of this post), but if you’re not going to directly heckle me, keep it to yourself. I’m not going to begrudge a heckler for heckling…it’s what they do, but this waste of boobs was conducting a smear campaign. I couldn’t even use the classic I don’t go to your job and yank the manure shovel out of your hand…the equivalent would be more along the lines of me sitting next to her at a bar and proclaiming to the patrons, “There is no way anyone would ever want to fuck HER. I don’t know why she even left the house with that man’s haircut.”
My set ended well, with the number of interested audience members exploding to 9. The drive home continued the evening’s suction. The hard rain continued thru the night, turning 66 into an asphalt log flume ride… To sum up, first gig: :oD…second gig: :o(

Such is stand-up.

Let’s lighten the mood, shall we? Y’know what lifts my spirits? Rhetorical questions…and a romantic comedy.

I’m not a political guy, but 2008 is shaping up to be a Presidential race for the ages. When the dust settles, don’t blame me…I voted for Zod.

Coming soon: My picks for the Comedy Kumite Tournament of Champions brackets.

To be continued…