The Lowly Comedian

During the long drives on a recent comedy mini-tour, I had a lot of spare time to reflect on what I think it is to be a comedian. Generally speaking, of course.

When I started doing comedy, it was right after my son was born almost three years ago. I was in my sophomore year of college. I was working a full-time job in medicine. I had no time to spare, yet a critical need for release or risked dying of a stress-induced aneurysm. And by that, I mean a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

I started doing comedy, making friends, and being humble. That last one is the most important part. So many comics here in Orlando take a class or know someone with some kind of stature (perceived or otherwise) in the local comedy scene and immediately start talking shit, berating other comedians, lashing out at any criticism, and numerous other things that leave bad tastes in everyone's mouth, least of all an audience. Many want immediate recognition for simply trying comedy out or changing their Facebook name to "Comedian-Such-and-Such." Others vehemently refuse to adjust their material, calling an audience "unintelligent," among other things if their set doesn't go well.

No one wants to practice their set. Everyone is bored with their material. Everyone has shit to do.

No one ever says thank you in the comedy scene here. No one is appreciative to be given time on a stage. Very few take a shot at being outgoing (even though we're comics, we generally do not want to talk to other people, especially other comics) and getting advice from people. Everyone who has been at it for any length of time immediately dismisses everyone who has been doing it for less time than they have.

I am obviously generalizing to make a point. I was given a chance to do a comedy tour and put myself on the "map" of the comedy world. I'm still a nobody, but I'm a lot further ahead than a lot of the other nobodies. And this is 100% because I practice a lot, network, make friends, am appreciative, am supportive, and generally "do unto others."

And to be clear, there are many local comedians that I am grateful to know, are very supportive, and have definitely shaped me as I grow as a comedian: Jersey, Adam Avitable, Myke Herlihy, Vince Taylor, Alicia Reese, Mark Viola, Matt Gersting, Alex Luchun, Larry Fulford, Jesse Robinette, Mike Lee, Sean Finnerty, and many more that I'm sure I am forgetting. And I have met many comics that are newer than myself that I really enjoy watching perform and try to make them feel welcome to the Orlando comedy scene. I see you, Bill Kilpatrick.

Although this "Pussy Admiral" here is still a little green. #BDM #AMT

As I started progressing and having an opinion on what I think is funny, I began to see the man behind the curtain in Oz. I started studying the careers of comics that are huge and others that are less mainstream and trying to figure out what they did to get where they are, why, etc. At the risk of painting with a wide brush here, the comics that I really like aren't the most popular ones while the comics that I loathe are making money hand-over-fist.

That's the thing about comedy; it is very individual. The fun and challenging aspects of comedy for me are writing stuff that is funny to me but that can also captivate an audience of ranging personalities and preferences. Americans are complete dodos and find fart humor, puns, and gimmicky shit funny. This explains the rampant success of guys like Jeff Dunham, Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, Dane Cook, Gabriel Iglesias (does he have anything other than fat and/or Mexican jokes?), and the like. The hardest part to swallow for me is that each of these comedians does have the capacity to write humor that I appreciate and have actually heard them perform, but they rarely do so in favor of pleasing others. 

On the flip side, you have a lesser populace who like things simply because they are offensive and tasteless or in some way exploitative, explaining the success of the later part of Dave Chapelle's career and guys like Carlos Mencia (only does race humor or jokes that he allegedly bought or stole), Joe Rogan (only yells angrily, despite being an intelligent joke writer), George Lopez (100% being-a-Mexican humor), etc.

And yes, many comics that are blowing up today beat some gimmick to death and collect all the money that falls out of their gimmick pinata. God love 'em, because they're making great money. Sad, but true.

I often find myself falling into the latter of the aforementioned categories of comedy when writing a set; I was writing racial stereotypes or standard sex jokes. I have to exert more effort in not doing that kind of comedy than anything else, and often still fail at it. While this brand of humor is probably the easiest way to get somewhere in comedy and will please the general populace, I wouldn't be satisfied with it. At the end of the day, I hope to make something unique that is my own brand that can change people's tastes in comedy and become a "niche" comic like Louis C.K., Bill Burr, the early Kevin Hart, and so on.

Why is this brand of comedy so successful? That's easy: people generally don't want to think. We have to think all day about bills, families, jobs, wars, news, etc. So when we go home, we want mindless entertainment.

This can be related to other forms of entertainment and still hold water: Why is so-called "reality" television the most popular/profitable category of show on TV? Reality check: Kim Kardashian blew a D-list celebrity on home video, then had her mom release it to the world. The next thing you know, every form of media is centered around her and which black guy is banging her currently. The more important thing that we should be paying attention to is why the hell Bruce Jenner is turning into a goddamn Star Trek villain.

Pictured: Bruce Jenner laughing uncontrollably.

Why are Michael Bay movies so lucrative? I like movies where tons of shit blows up, too, but goddamn.

Why is Katy Perry so important? Near as I can tell, she is the hotter, less-meat-suit-wearing version of Lady Gaga in that their music has something to do with teenage confidence and fireworks.

Because for those brief moments when we take this material in, we have to invest nothing to absorb it.

Great comics are telling you their stories, but they are great because those stories are yours, as well. The rub is that sometimes people don't want to think any more about their own shitty lives. So why would they want to hear about a comedian's life, which is very much like theirs?

The common adage is that "comedians make you laugh about your problems so they don't seem so bad." But that's not necessarily true. How do we know how our jokes really make someone feel? Today's consumer wants to escape reality, not have someone amplify it, albeit in a funny way.

I have found that I can make most crowds laugh, with the overwhelming exception being hipsters. And for no apparent reason, I want to make hipsters laugh so fucking bad.

However, I have to write jokes that matter to me to make them matter to others. I don't want to tell jokes, meaning that when I listen to comedians that I like, what I hear are their personal stories with messages in them, social critique, or other relatable gripes. Listening to them helped me realize that my entire set was a bunch of quick tags, but not a clear topic and punch with those tags attached to them.

This is the unfortunate side-effect of doing so many open-mic 5 minute sets. You have to do open mics to get your name and your material out there, but it also shapes your comedy into very superficial, quick-fire jokes to get as many laughs as quickly as possible in a sliver of space between a dozen other comics like yourself. As you can imagine, open mics are not always appealing to a crowd, making the task of getting those laughs even harder.

Maybe it is persevering through this stage in comedy that weeds out the recreational comedians or "hobbyists" from those that want to have some kind of legitimacy. If you get better at the open mics, you get recognition. This leads to other opportunities such as showcases with longer sets, hosting gigs, and featuring gigs for headlining comedians.

To me, it is important to reach that level of maturity as a comedian that he or she continues to do well at open mics to nurture the skills of being funny quickly and mixing it up with a crowd. But just as important is to organically widen your set. Get a little deeper into yourself and thereby an audience. Be able to tell a five to seven-minute story in a funny way before reaching the piledriving punchline. Suddenly, you have a longer, funnier set that an audience can really connect to. And pay for, eventually. Hopefully.

Mull over any advice or criticism that you receive and decide if there is any legitimacy to it before dismissing it outright, much less going on a Facebook tirade about the asshole that said you weren't funny (tip: never, ever do that). Try everything offered: hosting, featuring, being a guest on a podcast or radio show, whatever. This definitely helps in "finding your voice," as we so often hear others say.

Most of all, just be you. If you're actually fit to be a comic, then you will eventually work it out. Also, have the maturity and humility to know if you are actually cut out to be a comedian. If it were easy or attainable for everyone, then everyone would do it.

Every comedian since the Roman Empire talks about the same shit: family, work, politics, etc. The difference is not even the individual comedian's perspective on it, but rather the broken mirror in which they reflect those things onto an audience. No mirror is broken the same way.

If it is, you're just reflecting someone else's material and your mirror is likely not broken enough. If you are unique and still not funny, then your mirror isn't broken at all. Go get a real fucking job.