The heckles I've seen

When people find out I'm doing this, sometimes a friend will want to try it out for him/herself. One of their first concerns (which was true of me too) will be hecklers. For someone starting out, and going to open mics, hecklers are extremely rare. It does happen, though. Here are my 3 favorite heckler-at-an-open-mic stories, in ascending order of awkwardness:

The Edge at Sullys, hosted by Martin Morrow (http://martinmorrowcomedy.tumblr.com/)-

Drunk guy (not surprising) decides that he's funny. He interrupts at least 3 comics in a row. Martin tries to get the guy to calm down a little, acknowledging him but not encouraging him. The problem is that he's crossed that threshold of drunk where he's no longer human. What he really wants to do is be on stage, which he does. He gets up on the stage and bends over, implying that he'd like to be on the receiving end of some sex. He thinks he means well, that he's being the life of the party, but everyone's kind of had enough of him at this point. He gets off the stage after his little joke, and he's pretty much done. He's a jovial heckler, so in retrospect I kind of laugh at him. 

Deluxe Diner, hosted by Dan Dodge (@TheOnlyDanDodge on Twitter)-

I go up first, and there's a table with 4 college aged guys. I have a joke where I have a dialogue with an inner voice. At one point, I tell myself to stop interrupting me. One of the guys says "sorry for laughing", loudly and sarcastically. I reassured him that I was actually talking to myself, not to him. I was disappointed that he apparently didn't get the joke, more than anything else. After I finish, Dan let's the table know to keep the table talk to a minimum, and introduces the next guy, saying "I already don't like him." Clearly this was intended as a joke, but it turned out the next one up was one of those guys at the table (not the one who said "sorry for laughing"). He apologized for talking and his set suffered for it, he was out of sorts. I felt bad for him. He was young, at a new place, and probably a little intimidated. He finishes up and Dan tries to bury the hatchet. Next up is the one who started this little mess.

First words out of his mouth were "Hey, I thought this was supposed to be an comedy open mic. Why don't you tell a joke? You've just been talking. Try being funny!" Dan and I looked at each other with an unspoken "Is this really happening?" look. He went on a 2 minute diatribe against the whole room, saying how at 20 his whole comedy career was ahead of him, and we were all washed up and bitter. I felt sorry for him. He was lashing out like a child, going "nuh uh! YOU stink!" to the room. He started his regular routine, something about Dr Seuss and ending with a rape punchline. I see what he was trying to do with the joke, but that's just too big a hole to dig yourself out of. So he then came out with "oh, so you guys aren't going to laugh, huh?" A comic in the audience yelled "get to a punchline". Now it's a heckling mobius strip. He finished his set and left the stage angrily.

The next two comics started messing with him from the stage, and he gave back as much as he got. His friends were imploring him to keep quiet, but that didn't happen. As they were leaving, I heard him tell his friends "You guys are supposed to have my back!" Interestingly, alcohol was not a factor for this one.

Coles, hosted by Cameron Esposito (http://therealcameronesposito.com/) and Adam Burke (http://atpburke.tumblr.com/)-

Coles is a very popular open mic, and will have "civilians" and first timers every week. Often there are people there who aren't familiar with the comedy scene and how open mics generally work. It's a particularly rowdy Wednesday. One guy spontaneously wants to go up, but it doesn't work that way. He's a middle aged man, very drunk, and I'm sure thinking that he "gets it", and can use his worldly charms to get himself on the list right away. While the comics are on stage, he's bugging the hosts, repeatedly, particularly Cameron, about when he can get on. Maybe he thought his "charms" would work better on a female (I'll get to why that is later), but she'd had enough. She gets on stage and tells him calmly but firmly that he's been hounding her all night, and the answer is always the same, that he signs up, and then waits, just like everyone else. He was in a bar where people had been waiting for literally hours to do a few minutes of comedy, but he didn't understand this. He took this almost like a personal insult, and started talking back. Cameron, already annoyed with this guy, wasn't having any of it. She unloaded on him, saying that if he came here before he'd understand how this works. Everyone has to wait, and everyone had to pay their dues when they started. Her voice started to raise in volume, and the guy started getting defensive. He said "I'm old, I'm married, I'm depressed! I got something to say just like everyone else here!" The crowd is very much on Cameron's side. Not only is she correct, but this is also her room. She started it, and, with Adam, built it to the most popular open mic in the city. These are her people, and they all have her back. 

Then it got epic. The guy walks onto the stage "you've been giving me a hard time all night". Slowly approaching her, not explicitly threatening, but hoping that his physicality (he was pretty stocky, like a fullback) would give him some kind of advantage. At least that's how I read his actions. Cameron had enough of this guy, and says "Get off the stage. Get off the stage now! I swear to God I am going to punch you in the face if you don't get off right now!" Her fist was balled, her elbow cocked back, she was going to punch him. Thankfully, Adam and some other people intervened, got him off the stage, and escorted him out of the bar. As he's leaving he screams out "Why don't you come out of the closet already?!" I feel he may have had issues with women, hence his focusing on her in the first place. Cameron's girlfriend was there, which she helpfully pointed out and reiterated her point about if he'd been there before he'd know the score. There was a big "whew" after he left, but emotions were running very high for a while. 

In all 3 instances, something I notice, that regardless of alcohol or intent (trying to distrupt vs trying to be funny), the hecklers didn't think they were in the "wrong". I'm sure that last guy went home and told his wife about these stuck up jerks at this bar that gave him a hard time for no reason. That's what's interesting to me, an apparent total lack of self awareness or empathy for others. I'd like to think that I'd just ignore a heckler, or do a very minor interaction. But I won't really know until it actually happens to me. That's not an invitation, by the way, I'd probably just start crying or something, and that's not good for anybody.

How do they do it?

Sometimes remarkable things happen and we see them. Case in point:

Walking my dog the other day, I saw an older woman talking to a high school aged boy. He was very large, far too big for his apparent age. They were standing in a tennis court near my house. She was looking up at him and said something along these lines:

"You can't be doing this. If you want to live in my house, you have to follow the rules. Students are supposed to be in school. If you're not going to school, or working, then you have to leave."

I've seen this woman before. I'm fairly certain that she's a foster mother, as I've seen her walking with children of various ages, some too young to be her natural children, not to mention the multicultural backgrounds of the kids. Regardless, she was being very stern, and not very loving sounding, more scolding; Judge Judy-eque. The young man looked confused and angry. In my mind, he was a child, in a body that he hasn't matured into, but knew that his size gives him advantages to counter his fear. He could intimidate people, and they would likely back down. A cowardly lion that roars and threatens, hoping deep inside that he won't have to actually confront any situation, because he's ill equipped to deal with it.

He started to advance on her, and she very loudly said, "Don't pressure me into the corner!", and took out her cell phone. He looked around, and saw me. I didn't want to intrude, but I made sure to stay close enough that I could step in if he tried anything. I also made sure that I stayed in his sight line, so that he knew this too. He backed off, but again, looked confused, scared, angry. He yelled something, not exactly sure what, but it definitely had the F-word featured, and skate boarded off. I stuck around a little bit to make sure he didn't come running back to clock her one. She headed back home, and I didn't see him again.

So the situation seemed like one of the saddest things in the world to me. A child who's never known stability, can't hack it in a society that asks more than he's capable of (I imagine that he's learning disabled. The caveman expression prejudiced me, I'm sure, but I doubt I'm far off), and being rejected by the closest thing to a parental figure that he's got. "School sucks, and all I want to do is ride around on the skateboard" I almost wanted to tell him, "I get it, kid. School DOES suck, people can be mean, whatever, but it will end, and you'll be much better able to handle real life, when you enter it, than if you don't go through it"


It's interesting how humor can be found in the most awful of things. It's not shocking, of course, humor can be the relief for pain. See the Graham Chapman funeral, where it became a roast by his fellow Monty Python members. I read an article that said that laughter is a biological response to fear being dissipated. If you heard a rustle in the bushes, discovered that it was just the wind, then laughter was the way your body relieved the tension and told itself "you're ok, it's not a bear".

But back to the story. This was a very real, and sad moment. And I seriously thought for more than a moment "is there something funny in this?" Then I thought that I'm damned for even thinking that. Maybe for the kid there is something funny about it, or will be one day. If he became a comic he could relay the story, find the humor in the pain, who knows. But I couldn't, it's not my story, even though I just told it here. I don't need the relief that a joke would provide.  I do find sad things funny, but only when they're my sad things. And I'm sure I find them funny because I need to, to deal with the pain.

And now for my point. I know that I need more time to develop as a comic, because I notice things like that sad situation. That's what gets my attention, not "everything". A good comic notices something tiny, and can get 10 minutes out of it. I find myself to be too boring to do any kind of introspective humor. And because of that boring-ness, I also feel like I don't have very many experiences to relate that could be funny, comedy adventures. A good comic is constantly scanning everything to find the angle. I don't, and (this is a constant theme isn't it?) maybe that's why I won't be a very good comic. Whatever, I think I'm pretty funny sometimes, screw what's "right." Wow, that was a quick turnaround.

The end (?) dun dun duuunnnnn

The idea of this thing was to try to document what it's like to start out in comedy for a new person, as someone who knows nothing about what they're doing. There are 3 separate entries that I'm currently working on, and they're all dumb. To clarify, all of my posts are at least a little stupid, but I'm becoming more aware of it. It's the difference between being dumb and knowing that I'm dumb. To paraphrase Donald Rumsfeld, I have known unknowns.

My perspectives aren't purely naive perspectives (take a drink), they're now partially naive. I've noticed that the school analogy often gets used. I'd say that I've finished with orientation, and am ready to start going to school as a freshman. I see the look of fear on a first timer and think "oh yeah, I remember feeling like that".  I've even given advice, at least the best I'm capable of, which isn't much, but it's something. I've bombed, gotten laughs, and everything in between. My point is that I don't have the exact same viewpoint of someone just starting out, so I don't think I can capture that anymore. That's why I'd say that the original intent/mission of this thing is over or maybe fulfilled.

In other words, I can't relate the thoughts of a newborn baby, which was what I was originally essentially trying to do. Nor do I have enough experience or perspective to offer anything of actual value to the comedy community through this thing. No one really cares what I think. I'm an annoying 2 year old. Sure, I can walk and talk, but mostly I just make a mess, sometimes in my pants, and speak useless nonsense.

So I'm at a crossroads. Do I end this blog, or not?  I lean towards not. Why? Why not, is my answer. But I'll be going beyond what I originally intended, just writing whatever I want, reviews, musings, ideas, whatever. It'll still be dumb, but at least I'll kind of know it.

Nerves of noodles and stakes of stoodles

At my first open mics, I'd be extremely nervous. Nowadays, I'll usually get very, very nervous. I still clock my heart rate at about 120 when I know that I'm going to be up next. Once I start, I'll be less nervous, but only slightly. That's progress, I'd say. I'm sure that some excitement never truly goes away, nor would I want it to. If it ever got to that point, it's probably because I'm not enjoying myself, defeating at least part of the purpose of doing this in the first place. For me, the current level of anxiousness that I have is not a good thing. It prevents me from truly enjoying myself, and I'd like to have it ease up.

What's weird to me is that it's not always like this. There have been times where I'm perfectly fine. Some excitement, yes, but nothing that I'd view in a negative way, as opposed to being "too" nervous. I've found that the biggest determining factor is my perception of the stakes.

There are times when the room is especially crowded or every other comic is doing especially well. Both of those scenarios bring on the nerves. Also, there are comedians that I respect, and many times I'll be in the same room with them. If I think that they're funny, then it's important to me that they think I'm funny too. The tiny ego of a comic (or maybe it's just me, but I doubt it) thinks “I've definitely said some funny things, but that doesn't mean that I'M funny”, if that makes sense. Bottom line, the notion of needing approval is some sort of trigger of nerves for me.

Not surprisingly, the opposite scenario turns out to be the cure.  If I'm in a quiet/dead room, or everyone's bombing that night, or I'm in a room with people I'm not familiar with, then I generally don't really get nervous at all. Also not surprising, those tend to be the times I do best. I'll usually be more ok if I'm doing stuff that I've done before and had done well in the past. The problem with this is that I tend to not like repeating a joke in the same venue. Don't know why this is, it's not a self imposed “rule”. I think it's a subconscious thing where I feel the room will be bored hearing the same joke twice. This doesn't make any sense, because often the same people will be in different rooms, so the physical location is moot. People are weird, huh?

So the answer is obvious yet difficult for me. I just have to not care what anyone thinks of me when I get up there, yet care enough to put effort into trying to get a specific response (laughter) out of these same people. It seems like a paradox to me, but I'm sure that once I get some more comedy water under my bridge (?) that it'll make more sense.

Cliques and Climbing

As a newbie, there's a lot of "outside looking in" feeling at the open mics. There are people who are comedy friends, as in when they're out performing or watching they'll generally hang out with each other at the venue. In the real world, if you're friends with someone, it's because you like them, had adventures, shared troubles, all that stuff. So when you make each other laugh, there are years backing that up. I've touched on this before; something that you do or say that makes all your friends laugh, may or may not work on stage. That's not my point, though.

I'd sometimes see someone go up, and notice that some people would pay more attention than they did to others. They seemed to get more laughs than others did. Were they funnier than average, or were their friends boosting the laughs because they knew them? Combination? Are these people friends only because they're funnier than average? I have no idea. But that's not my point, either.

The most obvious examples are when I've been to open mics where the crowd seems completely dead. Then one person will go up, and before they're even talking, there's a lot more excitement. Like I said, maybe it's because that person is really good, or maybe because that person is one of a tight knit group of friends that are having a good time, or who knows what. Ultimately, though, I think one shouldn't care. What I mean is, I'd think the best thing is to not worry about how well someone else is doing on stage, and if they're doing well if that means people "like" them more than you.  Because they might be that funny, or they might be that friendly, but it doesn't matter. That's my point.

Like any social interactions, there are times when you hear about people who really aren't friends. Perhaps they don't like each other, which is natural.  Worse yet is if people pretend to like each other because they're the right people to be friends with. I've seen it in real world, and it annoys me. I haven't been around in comedy long enough to witness it personally, but I've heard whispers, and I feel sad about it. I think I view it differently because of the "stakes" involved.  My motivation in this is to be funny, and maybe one day be thought of (by myself and others) as funny enough that it's worthwhile to have an audience hear my stuff. Since I'm not looking for money or fame, hearing about that kind of faking feels like exploitation on an almost sadistic level. As in "why would you do that"?  But not everyone has my motivations.  For some it's their everything, so maybe it's purely a means-to-an-end kind of a thing. Again, though, I have no idea. Upon reflection, that's probably my actual point.

My to-do list

There's this thing called your "voice", and in brief, it's a comic's point of view, cadence, style, persona, etc.  It takes time to develop, and I don't have mine yet. I'd imagine that finding your voice just happens, where eventually you just are who you are. I don't really think about the process, but my ignorance leads me to almost fear the end result. Like a child who doesn't want to grow up, a paranoid part of me thinks, "but won't that mean I'm limited?" That's silly, though, and it's really just a culmination of comfort on stage with who you are as a performer. I'll still do whatever I want.

Putting all of that aside, there are specific things that I'd like to work on. For instance, if you watch a real comic, most of them will have a central idea. They'll present that idea, follow up with a punchline, or more often a series of punchlines that build on each other, perhaps lead to a new idea. I can't do that. I'll have a central idea, and if I come up with more than one punchline, I'll try to pick the "best" one and use it exclusively. Continuing to talk about a single idea almost feels like I'm repeating myself.

In a related line of thought, I'd like to get better with storytelling. My issue is rambling. Now, some people can ramble and it's funny, but I tend to muddy up the waters by going on unfunny tangents, so it ends up being confusing and boring. The whole "grass is always greener on the other side" thing comes to mind. I was talking to a comic that I admire. She was saying how she wants to do more punchline-y stuff. Ironically, when I heard her say that I sort of thought "Why would you want to do more punchline driven stuff, when you're so good at storytelling?". Yet here I am, wanting to change what I usually do. In her/my defense, I feel she's much better at what she does than I am at what I do.

But that's one of the nice things about going to open mics. You get to see how other people craft their jokes, revealing how they think and structure their act. When you talk to them before and after the open mics, you get to know other people's desires, insecurities, etc., and it builds that sense of community.



P.S. I didn't know that the magazine RE:COM ( http://www.recomedymagazine.com/ ) used "Comedy from the trenches" as part of their slogan, so while I'm keeping the address, I changed the title of this little thing here.

The first time I bombed pt2

Ok so what happened? Context matters, primarily what happened at the prior open mic I had done. I had a joke that went over really well. Being new, there's a lot of uncertainty, so having a joke do well is the best you could hope for. To add an extra layer of context, the joke was an old one, but I took it in a new direction, the idea for which came the day before. Spontaneity can lead to some great humor, but ego led me to think that all my spontaneous ideas are funny. It's an old thought, but getting big on yourself is a good way to fail. That lead to one of the most important lessons that I learned; you have to try.

There are two aspects of that "trying" that I've learned so far. There's the content of what you're trying to say, and the delivery (how you say it). I failed on both counts. I took what could have maybe been a good nugget of an idea, and I took it into an unfunny direction. I've listened to my delivery that night a couple of times, and I can hear me start to give up about halfway through.

To avoid sounding like I'm just getting down on myself, I should mention the audience. It was a particularly noisy night. I saw plenty of other comics bomb that same night, including people who are consistently funny. The hosts of the open mic had to repeatedly ask the people to quiet down, more than usual. There are ways to deal with a uncooperative crowd, but I'm not at a comfort level to be able to do that.

If that's what happened, how did I get over it? Some realizations helped. For instance, nobody cares. What I mean is that nobody's "judging" you on any single performance, and bombing doesn't mean that everyone hates you.

It also doesn't mean that you're not funny. It could mean that the joke isn't funny, or you didn't have "it" that night, or that the audience didn't care, but it's not an indictment of you as a comic. I've done enough open mics to see professional, well known comedians do a full set to almost dead silence. Seeing it happen to others really makes you feel better, because you know that you're not alone in this.  There is literally no comic who has never bombed.

Despite realizing all of this, I was still afraid to get back on stage. I avoided doing an open mic for a couple of weeks, but I wish I hadn't. You can feel sorry for yourself, or you can use that as motivation to get better, try harder, try something different, and I did, eventually. The next open mic did go well, and I got some laughs. That helped out more than any self analysis, because it demonstrated what I thought I knew. People were nice, it was like the prior performance never happened, and the laughs were confirmation that I had the capability of being funny.

I've bombed since that first time. While it sounds cliche, it really does get better. It doesn't get to you as much. It still hurts at the time, but it's not devastating like that first time. Now, my feeling is "well THAT sucked", and that's about it. It definitely makes me think harder about what I want to try next time, to do better/be funnier.

So, those are the three things I came away with in this experience. Think about why you bombed, and take ownership of it. Try to think of something new and funner. And get back on that horse as soon as possible. It isn't a big deal, it really isn't.