Humor Me Comedy Stand Up Comedy Blog

2011-02-04T16:54:00.001-08:00

Oh, fuck it.

Comedy is like tech support - or - Love the one you're with

2010-11-03T15:46:00.000-07:00

I've been suffering from a self-imposed malady lately. It's no surprise - most of my problems are self-inflicted; it comes with the territory when you alternate between solipsism and narcissism.

I get so up in my head about not doing well, I actually paint myself into a mental corner and I've developed a fear of the stage. Stupid (for a comic), I know, but it is what it is. It almost becomes a fetish, and I let the minor fear of not doing well (which is a useful motivator in itself) grow into a disproportionate sense of vertigo, to the point where I'm a mess until I get off stage. This is not how it's supposed to be, my friend. The initial fear of public speaking is supposed to (I am careful when dictating to life how things "should be") peak at some point early on, and then you move past it, and do your thing. At least, that's how a healthy, smart, sane person would do it. And then there's me.

I've been blessed with some smart, helpful guys in my life, and I learn from them whenever I can pull my head out of my ass long enough to do so:

Isaac Ames (and others, to be sure) said something wise recently: "the beast only grows if you feed it." As long as I flinch at the possibility of failure, it will always threaten me. It only has the power that I give it.

Another comic had some strange-sounding advice, and I appreciate it all the more for its bizarreness: "Dude, you've got to love the audience." What? At its first, cynical blush, it sounds like dime store, hippy bullshit, nearly laughable in its affectionate stance. Have you ever been heckled, or simply stared down by a stony-faced gaggle of comedy-watchers? Love these dicks, are you kidding?

But it started to make sense. It sounded a lot like advice I would've given a few years ago, when I was in technical support for an Internet services company, and the two gigs have some very useful parallels:

Both involve an initial element of fear. I still remember taking that first phone call, where some unknown problem waited on the other side of the ringing phone. Having no experience to speak of, the possibility of not having the answer and looking and feeling like a fraud was very real.

Also, you either learn to navigate that fear, or you let it haunt you forever. I took more support calls than everybody else in the office (a statistic which helped me get raises and survive the chopping block despite my otherwise shit attitude at the time), simply because I wasn't afraid to pick up the phone and dig in to whatever ghosts were lurking on the other end of the receiver. Even as lazy as I was, I would pick up the phone while coworkers shrugged at it. "Don't know?" Fuck it! It's better than "don't care!"

I picked up, flirted with callers I liked, pushed my luck with callers I didn't, and often had a ball with people I'd never spoken with before. A good portion of them didn't have any good will for me anyway, but at least I wasn't the run of the mill drone. I had forgotten that part of my life and the similarities that made it more a purgatorial boot camp, excellent training for comedy, than anything else. This is exactly the mindset I should be adopting with stage time.

Another way of saying it is that you must engage the audience, take what they give, give something of your own, and build something from that.

Dude, where's my room?

2010-09-20T10:15:00.000-07:00

Man, not long ago, I used to book this nifty little room. Simple stage, long, slim layout - not a bad place at all. We did several quality comedy gigs there, work that we could be proud of.

For a variety of reasons, for which no specific fault can fairly be assigned, I'm not with this venue any longer. It was sad to have lost out on a budding, regular comedy room, but the most troubling thing about the whole scenario is the way I found out they were moving on with comedy, but not with me: I saw a regional comic's Facebook status update that s/he'd be working in my backyard, at a very familiar location.

Uh.

Huh.

It's just that... it would have been nice to have been told, at some point ahead of time. Nobody owed me anything (although there was a pact of exclusivity early on, but even at that... it's complicated), but it would have been nice. Instead, it was like catching your girl making out with another guy, and having her tell you: "By the way, it's not working out." Suffice it to say, it was a little awkward.

Here's the good part: I've been doing awkward my whole, entire life. I eat, sleep and breathe awkward. The "A" in my DNA stands for Awkward. When I eat AlphaBits, all the letters line up to spell "AWKWARD." My blood type is "A," for... well, you get the idea. If I can't wade through a little awkwardness, then I might as well hang it up.

Whilst I mulled just how childishly to react to this turn of events, I got some very serendipitous advice from a hallowed corner of my social network: "Go. See the show. Smile, be happy and bear no grudge. For one thing, it's the right thing to do. And if anyone's got reason to be uncomfortable, playing it cool will drive them mad," was the gist of it. I may or may not have reached this level of wisdom on my own, but not so purely or quickly, I'm certain of it. So, I am definitely grateful for the nod in the right direction.

And so I did. Were there people there who wouldn't make eye contact? Sure. Did it trouble me? Hell no. I bought my ticket, ordered a drink and just had a ball. I chatted up the locals at my table. I watched the parallel comedies going on about me, on-stage and off. Afterwards, I had brief, pleasant conversations with the noteables in attendance, and made a point to make cheerful hellos to those who for some reason wouldn't look at me for the entire evening. It was positively joyous.

And from the minute I got there I saw the folly in the reactionary attitude I could have taken when I first learned that something was up: If had walked in there with a sour puss and a chip on my shoulder, I'd have been pissing in my own well. There was almost no reason anyway to cop an attitude, except for the simple, illusory pretense that I had reason to be put out. But if I had, I'd have alienated everyone there, rather than doing what I did do: enjoy myself and possibly, gently, allow anyone with ruffled feathers to be the source of their own ruffledness.

The moral of the story: don't be a dick.

Here's to the High Road: who knew the view would be so lush, and the ride so smooth?

A Booker's Plea

2010-07-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Comedian,

I perform comedy, but I've also put together several shows by now. I'm by no means an expert, but I know this: there are a few things a comedian should have handy that really help me out in my role as a comedy booker.

First, the thing I find most useful is video. After a few shows, I've already booked all the guys in my region whom I've seen and thought were hilarious. Obviously, live stand up comedy has a reverse-shelf life: once the local crowd has seen your act, it's no good until you've either got new material or have been gone long enough for the same act to feel new again. Either way, I can't re-book the people I've seen myself right away, so it's time to hunt for new talent, and I can't go see everybody in my state who thinks they can headline.

The next best thing to seeing you live is online video. I can get a taste of your style and level of experience from video better than anywhere else I know of. Online video allows me to at least ensure that I'm not booking a rodeo clown for an elegant night of entertainment, or vice-versa. If you know of a better way to get an advance preview, I'm all ears.

The next best thing after that is a recommendation from your peers. I've heard it said that comics get more work through other comics than from anywhere else, and it rings true. While I try not to book sight unseen on someone else's word, a quality headliner's word will guarantee you a first look in my book.

But what I really sat down to write is that once you've got the gig, there are several things that are crucial to my job (and my job is to hook you up with your job).

Headshot: once you're on the ticket, you have to understand that it's the venue's/promoter's job to sell you, to convince the public that you are the shit, and worth laying down a few bucks to see. A good headshot helps a lot, and even a bad photo is leagues better than nothing at all. I've stared at a few posters in my graphic editing application, wishing I had something to put in the area marked: "performer." In this age of cheap digital cameras and free Wi-Fi and social networking, there's no excuse not to have a headshot.

Bio and credits: again, somebody has to sell you. Sell your performance, your buzz, your comedy mojo, and turn it into tickets and two-drink minimums. An appealing, well-written bio gives potential ticket-buyers an idea of what to look forward to, and credits give them reason to believe you're legit ("He must be good, he's been on Comedy Central..."). Places you've performed, the names you've shared the stage with, placement in comedy competitions, all of these change the gray area in somebody's head into an expectation of quality and a fun night out.

I've spoken to a lot of comics and read a lot of online laments that the comic's job is solely to be funny. Period, end of sentence. I wish that were the case, and that seats would just magically fill up at every show, but they just don't. People need some persuadin'. And it's not like anyone's asking you to hand out 500 flyers or bring everybody you know. Just get your shit together and make yourself minimally marketable.

I spoke to a comedy veteran in the area a while back, a very respectable name in this area. After I'd booked him for the show, I asked him about photo, bio, credits. I picked up a very tepid vibe when he mumbled that it's "on the website." (At least he had one, and thank Christ for that, but that's a rant for another day). With a suspicious dread, I visited his website. While he had two headshots, one was inappropriate for the venue, and the other looked like a post office/FBI mugshot, and was the size of a postage stamp. When it comes to graphics, size matters, baby! Headliners often have to be blown up to twice the size of the feature act to visually explain their prominence, and I can't do that with a digital photo the size of a driver's license photo.

His bio was helpful, but painfully bland and non-specific. It mentioned several comedy competitions, but none by name. If I were to sum it up, it would be that "Joe Headliner was born in the Bay Area, and is real funny." Nothing about his style, nothing about who he'd performed with, no reason to care. And this is a genuinely funny guy, who I've seen and liked and who has been in the business for decades! I know he's got more in the tank than this!

Finally, some contact information; an e-mail address (checked daily) and a cell phone number are a must. If something happens at the last minute or you're running late, I would cut the throats of my own children to be able to contact you immediately. Beyond that, other reasons to stay in touch are self-evident. A business card is fantastic: it is handy and portable and shows that you have enough commitment to your craft to invest twenty bucks in your own career.

A comic's job is to be funny, I get it. But you can't just leave it at that. Most of the comics I know have booked their own shows and have run into these frustrations. Some of them have retreated back from the business end of showbiz because of it. It's no fun.

There comes a point when all players in this game have to take a somewhat holistic approach, and acknowledge that everybody has to make out, or nobody makes out, long-term. If we don't sell tickets and drinks, comedy can't happen. If you're reading this and don't have a headshot, a bio, business cards or a website, contact me, for God's sake. I've got some experience with attaining these things (on the cheap, if necessary), and would be thrilled to help you equip yourselves with these basic tools.

And besides, every comic knows that the fuller a room is, the better the show will be. Let's work together and put together a killer night of comedy.

Love,

Tom Bickle
HumorMeComedy.com

Big Shorty debuts at Hero's Open Mike 5/19/10

2010-05-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

I made it to Isaac Ames's open mike last Wednesday at Hero's Sports Lounge & Pizza Co.

Josh Hollinger took to the stage first, continuing an audacious trend apparently geared toward blowing your mind. This week, he read aloud from a book with plenty of sexual content and themes that racially nervous folk like me would describe as "urban." Listening to Josh's voice describe sex with a male hood rat from the female perspective (at length, if I may) was bizarre and funny on a different level than I'm used to seeing locally, especially at an open mike. His path is a bold one, and although the noncommittal crowd didn't respond overwhelmingly to his presentation, I admired his bravery and technique.

Happily, I witnessed a First Timer take his maiden voyage on the U.S.S. Open Mike. Larry Valdez, a.k.a. "Big Shorty," took to the stage in the show's second slot, and did a fine job for a first-timer. He clearly had prepared, having his material fresh in his mind, rarely if ever needing the small notebook he took onstage with him. He was confident and relaxed in his delivery, even in the face of a dispersed crowd.

Much of his comedy was specific to his own experiences. He cracked on his appearance (being not terribly tall) and his formerly married status. The crowd wasn't terribly generous that night, but to their credits, every comic got laughs, including Big Shorty.

Julie Walker is a comedienne I am happy to see more often at comedy events in the area, and I note with interest her progress both with material and presentations. She's one to watch, I think.

Kevin Albritton is always a treat to catch. He did quirky, funny, self-aware comedy that I never get tired of watching.

Roberto appeared and brought the show home with his usual, clever material. Something else that is all too common to his performances is chronic microphone failure. Mikes just seem to hate this guy, and this night was no exception. If I was him, I'd carry batteries and a back-up mike, just to combat fate. Good comedy, though.

Somewhere in the middle, I had a good set and broke in a few new jokes. But the best part of the night for me was chilling with beer and wings and shooting the shit with some of the comics in attendance about stand up and related topics. I'm lucky that I get to hang now & then with a good group of people.

Video of my work, sold out show at La Contenta

2010-03-31T15:21:00.000-07:00

Had a good show in February in Valley Springs. I finally got around to exporting a video clip and posting it to YouTube. Here it is:

The Willow Room at Black Oak

2010-03-23T13:32:00.000-07:00

Through a series of unlikely events, I was privileged to do a guest spot at Black Oak Casino's Willow Creek room last Thursday. Mike Betancourt (readers here will have come to know him as "The Saint") was running the room this night for the otherwise-committed Del Van Dyke.

Mike's been a great friend to me, and has encouraged and instructed me when he can. This evening, he schooled me in the rhythms involved in a show, both on a macro and micro scale.

Taking that advice, I prepared to hit the stage, rather than it hitting me. I rehearsed my material for time, and found that what should have been a smooth five minutes came out rushed at under four and a half. Gotta watch that.

Soon Mike had finished his set and introduced me. I stepped into the light. I don't know what it looked like, but climbing onstage at such a spacious, plushly-appointed room made me feel like a teen with a tit: giddy, mildly intimidated and completely amazed at the bizarre luck that got me to that point. I hope that blinding element of anticipation meeting reality never dwindles, although I suspect it must.

Even at an easy idle I speak quickly, so I made a conscious effort to throttle back my motor mouth. I navigated the luge of my material, feeling like I'd been tossed into a downhill game of hopscotch, required to hit all the right markers without losing my balance. Surprisingly enough, I hit my setups and punches with the flavors I'd intended, and the crowd responded. Favorably, even!

I never saw the light as I performed my closer and acquiesced the stage, handing it over to the stunningly hilarious Chris Warren, who subsequently handed off to the theatrically and musically gifted Juan Canopii (sorry, I couldn't easily find a decent link).

Later, I would get invaluable feedback regarding timing and stage presence, along with a bushel of advice, all of which I valued highly. My guest spot at Black Oak was like a pedagogical bomb going off, with me trying to catch all the fragments of knowledge I can before they escape.

Still, my senses were all on high alert and I felt like a moon-eyed lemur as I looked and listened and tried to take it all in. In this mode my sense of humor is also heightened, as if some force is reminding me at a nearly-subconscious level to: "take it all in but don't forget to enjoy the ride." This is a highly enjoyable state to be in, but unfortunately the outward manifestation is that I laugh at inopportune times at the layered and hidden ironies that I formulated and processed for my own enjoyment, and I risked alienating those around me by the appearance of odd behavior.

Ah well, fuck it. These are the moments that the tree of life is made of, and I'm willing to look foolish if it means plucking its fruit.

"What have you learned?" I was asked as we enjoyed comped, bar & grill fare after the show (rarely have I enjoyed simple, fried fare as I did that night with company that might otherwise have been mistaken for mundane. On the contrary, I was fascinated). With my sensory satellite dishes still in "receive" mode, I had processed nothing and had nothing to offer but a lame attempt at some intelligible synthesis of the night's events and nuances. I'm sure I disappointed my interlocutor, but it takes me days to sort out anything useful from nights like these. Can't be helped.

I'll tell you this: it pays to occasionally take the path that promises to carry you out of your way. You never know where it will take you. I've always suspected that, but tonight was a solid confirmation.

The Saint

2010-02-21T09:19:00.000-08:00

I was less than a week out from a very important comedy show, and I was jumpy. I'd been hitting open mikes in anticipation, trying to get the right mix for my set list, and working on my stage presence. I've been doing open mikes for some years now, but I still get a bad case of Tin Man Syndrome, and this will just not do for a show I produce in my own back yard.

As is my way, when faced with a nagging, persistent problem that requires swift and consistent effort, I lolly-gagged on Facebook. As it turns out, it was the best thing for me to do.

A noted comic in the region hit me up for a chat session. He is much more active and experienced in comedy than I am, so when he talks, I listen. It didn't take long for me to bring up my pre-game jitters and "oil can!" performance lament. "Your problem is a simple," he said. "You're not comfortable with your material." He went on describe what I had suspected in the back of my mind, but couldn't bring into focus: I was tentative and timid in performing, because I either hadn't memorized my material sufficiently, or didn't feel strong about it for other reasons.

I set about writing up a set list, dumping the weaker bits, and trimming and strengthening the rest. With that done, I drilled on the remainder, wearing grooves in my brain so that one word led to the next, and to the next, and so on. I've done this before, but for some reason had allowed complacency to rob me of what little discipline I'd had.

I've never met the guy, save through online contact, but he has yet to refuse an opportunity to lend a hand. Usually just a nudge in the right direction, helping me to stay on track, but sometimes more, taking an extended period of time to share his experiences and viewpoint. He's been so open and positive, I've taken to calling him "The Saint," for his nearly inexhaustible patience and willingness to offer ideas and expertise. Early on in my comedy works in the area, I was put off by some experiences I'd had: a few folks were stingy with information, reluctant to help or even backed out on gentleman's agreements. Some of this is to be expected of course; you can't expect people to fall all over themselves to embrace someone they've never met. Still, the circumstances were off-putting, and I had started to become disillusioned with the stories I'd heard about comedians collaborating on projects, tuning up each other's material and helping each other find work.

Luckily, I found that as I became less "the new guy," several active performers in the area began to share their opinions and insights. As I make small efforts here and there to contribute in my own small ways, a kind of karma has kicked into gear - seriously disturbing my cynical view of humans and the universe. Troubling, that.

I've thanked several in my circle for their contributions, The Saint most often and most earnestly. As time wears on, I can feel a positive sort of debit system building, keeping me on the lookout for the opportunity to do a good turn, especially (but not only) to those who've shown me some grace.

After a particularly time-consuming bull session, I asked The Saint what I could do to repay him for his time and selfessness. He replied with a continued invitation to hit him up for advice in the future and to: "Just pay it forward, man." Is it any wonder I call him "The Saint?"

Outta the park!

2010-02-20T23:58:00.000-08:00

Not much time to write tonight, but I had to jot this down:

I produced and emceed a great show tonight, with Patrick Jaye doing a great job featuring, and Del Van Dyke headlining like a master. I could brag on either of them 'til the cows come home, but I'm too tired to do them justice, so I'll just toot my own horn:

My set was well-received. I brought some good energy, had my material down, concentrated on being myself (like Mike "The Saint" Betancourt told me), and drove that shit home like nobody's business. I admit I'm proud that I acquitted myself well in front of some seasoned pro's.

Crowd's happy, comics are happy, venue is happy. Rock on, let's do this again soon!

Good night!

Comedy Night in Lathrop, 12/19/09

2009-12-24T12:20:00.001-08:00

I was fortunate to perform at a show last week in Lathrop, a show put on by the young entrepreneur Evin Smith. I was in good company, performing with Isaac Ames, Roberto Arreola, Nate Lewis, Brian Uecker, Josh Hollinger and my brother-in-geography, Matthew Zeller.

I had a great set, got a lot of laughs and gained some of that valuable stage time. I had a lot of highs, but enough lows to help weed out the weaker material from a few bits, which was great. This must be what I'm meant to do; I even enjoy the rough parts!

What was great about this show was that everybody brought something to the party: for examples:

Isaac had some fearless crowd work, busting on a table of loud talkers
Roberto brought clever new material
Josh exploded on stage with a Jonas Bros. bit that I didn't see coming
Matthew had thoughtful, new material written just for the show and
Nate closed the show, headlining for the first time!

The show offered a "best street joke" slot, but the audience was too shy to take advantage of it, leaving a few spirited comics to take whacks at the pinata.

I'm looking forward to doing it again.

Rodeny Dangerfield

2009-11-26T12:43:00.001-08:00

I heard Rodney Dangerfield on an online comedy radio station recently. I miss that funny old bastard...

La Contenta Show 11/21 - lighting lesson learned

2009-11-26T09:16:00.000-08:00

One thing I learned producing the show last Saturday: lighting is important! I already knew that, but the lesson was certainly accentuated.

I'd arranged to set up lighting equipment package that was advertised by satisfied, independent customer reviews as being ample for lighting a "small or medium-sized stage." Confident in my purchase, I ordered the package.

Pressed for time, we set it up the night before, and we were concerned about the tripod stand it used to elevate the actual lights, for at least three reasons:

The stand partially obstructed the view
It presented a potential tripping hazard
It displaced at least a few audience seats

We made an executive decision to distribute the lights on the floor, at the foot of the stage. This put a lot of light on the performers, but from a low angle. The downside was that it cast light in an eery, ghost-stories-by-the-campfire angle. The upside was that the view was unobstructed, tripping hazards were minimized and no seats were disturbed.

I'd quietly urged my fellow performers to stand as far back from the front of the stage in an effort to let as much light to our faces as possible. Even though it was my idea, I admit that I found it difficult to do so and still feel comfortable with delivery.

One final problem was that the channel-based lighting controller I purchased only lights one light at a time, out of a bank of four. This was a surprise, especially since customer reviews raved about how this package was plenty for small stages.

Retrospect, unanswered questions:

Is there a better way to vet or research customer reviews?
I wonder is we could have dedicated a small table to the bank of lights. This would have displaced a few customers, but the lighting quality may have been greatly improved by raising it a few feet from the floor. Nobody wanted to sit front and center, anyway!

Lessons learned:

do dry runs farther in advance (although it was almost impossible in this case for reasons unimportant to this examination)
mount lighting on a ceiling or floor mounting that allows for minimum intrusion into usable spaces
consult a lighting professional

Live and learn, and we'll improve with every effort!

Blowout at La Contenta in Valley Springs

2009-11-22T11:57:00.000-08:00

Last night's show was a total gas. I learned a lot, and although I can't wait to reflect upon it, I must put it off a little while longer. Lots to digest.

But a friggin great show. Thanks to Jason Resler, Joe Rivera and Roberto Arreola for making it one Hell of an evening!

Chip's Comedy Club Grand Opening

2009-11-08T07:13:00.000-08:00

Chip's Comedy Club had its grand opening last night, and I was glad to be in the audience. Joe Rivera's latest effort included Joe, Nate Lewis, Josh Hollinger and was headlined by Patrick Jaye.

Joe had live music to back up the comedians. The drummer threatened to steal the spotlight, using nothing but devastatingly timed rimshots to slyly pan a flat punchline here and there.

I did my part by coming to laugh and soaking up a small fortune in booze. Nine bucks for a shot of Scotch? I hope somebody appreciates that I took one for the team - that's me, generous to a fault.

I made a late decision not to perform, even though I think Joe would have made room for me in the lineup if I'd asked. It's been a long week, and Daddy has been too busy to rehearse properly. Plus, I wanted the opportunity to just relax enjoy some good, local comedy. I don't get enough of that. Before the show ended though, I realized I'd made a mistake, and should have taken the opportunity to "work." Next time, I'll have my excrement assembled (shit together) better, and not miss another chance.

Interestingly, there was a late audible on the headliner play: While Anthony K was slated to round out the show, Patrick Jaye brought it home instead, and in fine fashion.

My mind is blown

2009-10-16T17:50:00.001-07:00

I am hurtling through new territory and recklessly kicking through areas marked off with yellow-and-black tape, but instead of "WET PAINT" they're marked: "COMFORT ZONE." Flashes of light, tunnels psychedelic kaleidoscope colors whip by and I hum with new energy as I drool just a little with either anticipation or rapt sensory overload or both, I can't really tell.

More coming soon. Watch this space.

209 Comedy Competition

2009-10-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

Rookies, a bar in Manteca, my old hometown, is hosting a comedy competition this Saturday night, and I'll be doing five minutes. I haven't performed in months, so I'm giddy with anticipation and trepidation. I pray to all the gods I believe in that it will go well.

You should come, and laugh.

HMC Open Mike night, 7/30/09

2009-08-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

Open Mike Night last week not a total success, but was a fine learning experience.

Upon entrance to the venue, I found the place packed with loud, snockered golfers, carousing loudly and working their way up Highway 4 towards other bars and their next DUI. I bravely and dumbly set up my equipment and started my set, with darn little notice from the assemblage. After a few muddled jokes, I tardily realized that it wasn't a good night for it, and took a seat at the bar to wait it out.

If there's one thing a student of comedy is never short on, it's advice from people who don't know anything about comedy. For example, I've recently had the un-brilliant and well-meaning counsel that I should get up and perform some of Bill Cosby's material or George Carlin's, just to get people going. Granted, this was on a night that my own original material wasn't slaying the crowd, but it wasn't so bad as to resort comedic plagarism. Non-comics don't understand that this course of action is tantamount to spitting on your mother. I tried to explain that it's far better to fail with your own material than succeed with stolen material, but I guess it amounts to a cultural thing. It's like the Matrix - no one can be "told" what the Matrix is; you have to experience the relevant importance of the issue at hand before understanding it.

With that said, I did get one nugget of useful tutelage from an 80 year-old Russian barfly who otherwise tells the same stories like a reel-to-reel tape stuck on "loop." She said: "Joov got to grab dem! Dey ain't gonna listen unless joo grab dem!" And she was right.

My comedy style is dry, clever and conversational, but is not multi-dimensional, loud or intrusive. I've got very few short, punchy bits, and absolutely no setup/punch, street-joke-type material. That's just my style. However, it occurred to me even before the mummy's advice if I were to attempt to scale the attention summit that this crowd presented, some assertive, brief and ribald zingers would have been the tools to pull from the toolbox. It's a stretch for me, but hey, I can stretch. Food for thought.

Not having those particular tools at hand, I chilled out until the crowd dissipated. It was unfortunate, but I considered the venue's view: one of the larger purposes of an Open Mike Night is to gets some butts into the venue's seats on a slow night. If the place is already rolling with a crowd that isn't into it, why force amateur night on them and chase paying customers out of the joint?

The evening eventually rolled on with my comedic material and a few musicians who sat and drank in the bar for most of the two hours allotted for Open Mike Night, only to get their instruments out and start playing five minutes from the end of my available time. I let them run long through a few songs, but I had to cut it short and pack up, as I had miles to go before I slept. They grumbled disappointedly, but unlike them I couldn't indulge myself in a short drive home, loaded to the gills; Captain Killjoy had an hour drive, an equipment unload and work the next day to look forward to, so he packed up his shit and left. So be it.

HMC Open Mike Night, 7/23/09

2009-07-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

My second night was a mixed bag.

I did about five minutes of new material, and I'd say it deserved a six out of ten. It would have went better if I'd prepared more, but it was a busy week and I didn't dedicate the time like I should've. Still, I got some good responses.

We only had one other performer, a guy named Scott, who brought an acoustic/eletric guitar. He BUSTED OUT some classic rock that had the place (all seven of us) whooping and clapping their hands. He really saved an otherwise mediocre night overall.

I really gotta step up my networking to bring out more talent, and also my rehearsal time so my delivery is smoother.

In the future, I hope to work with bars a little closer to home and more-densely populated areas. My hope is that that will make it easier to draw performers and crowds. One step at a time, though. Lots left to learn, and plenty of time to learn it.

HumorMeComedy.com's first Open Mike Night

2009-07-17T15:23:00.001-07:00

Last week I ran an Open Mike Night at "The 19th Hole" in Avery, CA, the first time I've done so. I've performed at open mikes several times, but this was my first time being responsible for the whole thing - the equipment, the tone, the promotion. And it was a total blast.

I rushed over directly from work, set up my equipment and got started. I introduced myself and the concept open mikes in general. I did about 5 minutes of my material and it was very well received. It's true that several people in the audience were friends and acquaintances of mine, and I know that buddy-laughs are different than stranger-laughs. Still, laughs are laughs, and they sounded genuine to me. An even stronger confirmation of their legitimacy was the fact that some gags fell a bit flat - not a night of bombs by any means, but the crowd provided enough variation in response that I knew the laughter wasn't simply Pavlovian, "that's my buddy up there" giggles, generated to save my feelings.

Beyond the reception of my own material, the night started off a bit slowly. It appears that open mikes and down-to-earth performance art in general are pretty novel here, and I could sense the crowd's uncertainty as to what this production was going to look like. That's part of the reason I explained (and will continue to explain) what open mikes are about. I think it helps to get the uninitiated up to speed. But the evening rolled along, and I was proud of myself: I trod a careful line between cajoling the hesitant attendees and acknowledging the awkwardness that is natural to approaching a microphone.

Unfortunately, there are precious few (maybe none at all) aspiring comedians in this area, and no musicians saw fit to attend, either. So, talent was a little on the lean side, and our only hope for entertainment, aside from me, was to get the crowd involved. If there was one angel of mercy in this regard, it was an elderly woman named Liena. After my repeated prodding of the crowd to take a whack at it, she finally took the mike - she utterly mangled a street joke that began: "Okay, there's this eye-talian guy..."

Although it didn't end up being an ethnic slur, it sure started out like one, and this bold start from a frail old granny was ideal for breaking the ice! After her, there was a steady stream of participants; it not only provided a quantity and diversity of material, I could feel the audience become invested in the show, as their friends bought into it and supported their cohorts.

By the end of the show, everyone was loose and there was a definite buzz in the air. Even the shyest person in attendance had shuffled up to the mike to share a funnier-than-expected story about his near-death experience, falling out of a fishing boat in full gear. All my trepidation at this new experience had morphed into exhilaration as the evening was as much a success as I could have asked for. Three nights from now I get to do it all over again, and I can't wait.

I've gotta write some new material!