Books on Comedy

If I were starting out as a brand new comic in 2025, these are the seven books I’d read, in order of importance.

The New Comedy Bible, by Judy Carter

I've been doing stand-up for 8 years and I still reference this book. If you take nothing else from this book, learn the joke structures she writes about:

A JOKE consists of two parts: a SETUP and a PAYOFF.
A SETUP is a TOPIC + an ATTITUDE + a PREMISE.
A PAYOFF is an ACT-OUT, a TURN, and/or a MIX + a TAG.

Here's her Neal Brennan example:

SETUP: It’s weird (👈 attitude) when they talk about the economy on the news (👈 topic) because they make it seem like everyone is rich (premise👈). PAYOFF: They’re like, (act-out 👉) ‘Global economic meltdown… is your money safe?’ ‘Uhh…you mean the $43 in my checking account? It should be okay.’

Mastering Stand-Up, by Stephen Rosenfield

Rosenfield approaches writing setups and punchlines from another, though equally helpful, angle. He discusses the importance of creating rolls as well as performing with emotional fullness:

To clarify what I mean by emotional fullness, let’s take a look at an excerpt from Louis C.K.’s piece on playing board games with his kids (this excerpt precedes the “Monopoly” material we looked at in chapter 7). I’ll indicate in parentheses the feelings that underlie his setups and punches.

Setup and punchline 1: (Annoyed) It’s boring having kids. You have to play kid games. You have to play board games. Little kid board games where you go . . . (making the monotonous sound of a game spinner twirling). And you go tick, tick, tick.
Punchline 2: (Making the same monotonous sound again.)
Punchline 3: (Trying to hide his frustration from his daughter) You got a six, honey.
Punchline 4: (Acting out his daughter’s slow and methodical counting and moving of her game piece) One . . . . . . . . . Two . . . . . . . . . Three . . . . . .
Punchline 5: (Openly frustrated, he points to where his daughter’s game piece should go) It’s here. Just go here. It’s just . . .

Finding Your Comic Genius: An In-Depth Guide to the Art of Stand-Up Comedy, by Adam Bloom

I liked Bloom's thoughts on what he calls "boom mic moments," those moments when comedians talk about other jokes or shows while on stage. "Even the biggest comedy nerd on the planet who’s seen that bit of material before and can quote it word-for-word doesn’t need to be reminded of that fact. So, the people who haven’t seen it before certainly don’t. There’s no point whatsoever in reminding your audience that what you’re about to say is a recital, because no single laugh (or two or even three) will justify causing that big a ‘boom mic moment’."

Also, I found his bonus chapter on corporate comedy helpful. When I was talking to a corporate comedy client, I used everything in that chapter.

Comic Insights, by Franklyn Ajaye

I love comedy. I love jazz. So when a fellow cruise ship comic told me there was a book written by a comedian Bill Maher described as "the jazz comedian," I bought it. Comic Insights is less about the craft and more about the art of stand-up. From the author's own mouth (pen?): “This is not a joke primer, but a philosophical approach to developing material that will help anybody who wants to be a comedian unlock his or her true comedic essence.” Ajaye features a ton of interviews with comedians. I found myself identifying with a lot of the reasons why other comics got into this line of work. When I was alone in my dark, windowless cabin on the cruise ships, this book reminded me why I got into this job in the first place.

The Comedians, by Glyph Nerteroff

A great read on the history of comedy.

Seriously Funny, by Gerald Nachman

A deep dive on the beginnings of stand-up comedy as we know it today, focusing on the comedians of the 1950s and 1960s.

Comedy Book: How Comedy Conquered Culture, by Jesse David Fox

This last one's more about the current state of comedy vis-à-vis culture.

How to Host a Comedy Show

Last updated January 13, 2025

This is a brief write-up on how to host a comedy show.

Get them to behave as a group

Your primary objective is to get a room full of individuals to behave as a single group. To do that, get them clapping/wooing together three times. If you get the audience making noise right from the start it will make them feel less self conscious about laughing later.

“How’s everybody going tonight?”
”Wooooo!” [1]
”We can do better than that. How’s everybody doing tonight?!?”
”WOOOOOO!” [2]

You might think this is hacky, but no one cares. The audience wants to have a fun time. The comics want a hot room. Management wants everyone to buy more plates of mozzarella sticks and glasses of Chard. No one is going to think your welcome is hack.

Talk to Some of them

This may seem counterintuitive given the “behave as a group” note above, but getting to know a few specific audience members will help draw people out of their shells. It’ll also create organic openings for you to make a few jokes early in your hosting set, which gets everyone used to hearing the rhythm of jokes. And…it’ll get people clapping together a few more times. Here’s how I do it:

Initiate a conversation. I start with general topics like geography.

“Make some noise if you’re from out of town!”
”WOOOOO!”

Single out someone who clapped/wooed and talk to them. You don’t have to make a joke, but it will help get them laughing organically.

”Where are you from, sir?”
”Mississippi.”
[to audience] “Give it up for Mississippi…” [3] “Is this your first visit north of the Mason-Dixon Line?”

And you’re off to the races.

You could stay on geography—”Anyone else from out of town?” “Anyone from another country?” “Anyone from a Union state?”—or you could move on. You can steer the conversation toward a topic for which you already have material. I have material on being married, so that’s where I go next.

“Make some noise if you’re married!”
”WOOOO!”
”How long have you been married, miss?”
”22 years.”
[to audience] ”Give it up for 22 years!” [4] “To the same person?” or “What’s the key to making it 22 years?”
”Open communication.”
”That’s a good one. For my wife and me, it’s having a nice even division of labor. At home, I make all the jokes, she makes all the money.”

Next you could talk to someone else, you could pivot to other material, or you could…

Cover House Rules

Depending on the club, you may need to cover some house rules. I frequently host at Bananas Comedy Club, and they don’t have any house rules. Once, I hosted at a club that gave me an entire single-spaced page of do’s and don’ts to cover. Don’t ask if anyone is celebrating a birthday. Do talk about our drink promotions…

In general, remind people to keep their phones in their pockets, on silent, or better yet, off. Remind them that heckling is disruptive and passé. When I host at Gotham Comedy Club, I’ll tell them that we’re taping these sets.

“We’re taping the show tonight. The comics will review the tapes so we can get funnier. Some comics use the tapes to send in to late night shows. I’m sending mine to my mom as proof of life. ‘How can we make these tapes great?’ you ask? Laugh. That’s it. If you like a joke, laugh; if you don’t like a joke, laugh harder.”

When covering house rules, I find it helpful to insert a joke, hence the proof of life line.

I will update this page as I think of other topics. I’m already thinking I need to add a troubleshooting section… How to handle hecklers, what do to after a comic bombs, etc.

If you have any questions, feel free to drop them in the comments below.

Bananas

This is my fart face.

This week I worked at Bananas Comedy Club, a new club for me. I hosted five shows, one for Collin Chamberlin, a NYC-based comic from Pittsburgh, and four for Mary Lynn Rajskub, an LA-based comic from Trenton, Michigan. I’m not sure why where they’re based or where they’re from is important for the purposes of this entry, but I’ve already written it and am too lazy to hit delete.

To get out ahead of the “how’d you book that?” question… On Tuesday night, an agent called me and said a mutual connection had referred me to him and asked if I was available to host a show Wednesday night and then four more over the weekend. Wiff and I had plans for Wednesday night, Valentine’s Day, but she was fine canceling because a) she supports my career and, b) she wouldn’t have to fake a headache.

There’s kind of a joke among some comics that we’re all just waiting for The Industry to knock at our door. Ninety nine out of a hundred times it’s pure fantasy. But this agent’s call on this Tuesday night was the one time out of a hundred where the fantasy was real.

I mean sure, the shows were in a hotel conference room. And sure, the hotel was in New Jersey. But it was work and I had a blast doing it. The shows were bananas. The audiences were the apeshit. And it was an honor to monkey see monkey do that club.

How to Deal With Stage Fright

During the Q&A portion of a recent Zoom comedy show, one of the audience members asked how comedians deal with stage fright. I can’t answer for all of them, but I can offer a few suggestions that have helped me.

1. Be your own therapist

It’s so much cheaper than the real thing and, I'd argue, just as effective. When you analyze your own phobias and undesirable behaviors, you’ll find it hard to keep repeating the behavior.

What specifically scares you about performing on stage? People won’t laugh.
What does the people not laughing mean to you? It means I’m not funny.
What are the costs and benefits of the assumption: if people don’t laugh then I'm not funny? Pro: Uhhh... Con: Not feeling funny may affect my performance; I might not write as well.
How would it change you or your act if you cared less about whether people laugh? I might not feel less funny, I could feel freer when I write, which would mean funnier and more original material, which would give me confidence on stage, which would obviously mean I’d sell out the Beacon Theater.
What is some evidence for and against the assumption that you’re not funny? Every day, my dog tells me I’m not funny.
Maybe we should stop talking to ourselves and seek real help? That’s a great idea.

Other questions to ask yourself:

• Is it possible that maybe you can’t read people’s minds and maybe they’re not judging you as harshly as you think?

• Could it be possible that they’ll forget your name the second you get off stage?

• Have you ever been in the audience when a comedian didn’t do well? How did you feel?

• Do you remember every comedian you’ve seen who didn’t do well? Is it possible that maybe they won’t either?

2. The Nike Method

Also, Exposure Therapy. Just do it. Start by imagining the scenario. Include as much detail as possible. What the stage looks like. How many people are in the audience. What they look like. What the mic smells like. Imaging telling a joke. It doesn’t kill. Now imagine what comes next. You’re still standing there. The audience is still sitting there. You tell your next joke. A few people laugh. You end your set. You’re still alive. The audience has already forgotten your name. Were you physically harmed in any way? Is it possible that you can take what you learned from that experience and do better next time?

Then, actually perform. Get up on stage in real life. Get through it, and feel what it feels like to be alive after a so-so performance. (Or a killer performance, depending on how well you did.)

3. Use the feeling to fuel your rehearsal

Whenever I think about stage fright, I think about forgetting lines or material. I harness that anxiety to fuel my preparation. I’ll practice jokes until I hate them.

4. Tell yourself it’s excitement

You’d be surprised how well you can lie to yourself. When my pits drip, I tell myself those jitters are my body’s way of telling me it’s excited. I usually believe it.

5. Ask What’s the worst that can happen?

There’s no such thing as a comedy emergency. You’re not going to die. Unless you’re an audience member at a Dane Cook concert.

How To Memorize Your Stand-up Material [or anything]

Last night I did stand-up at Gotham Comedy Club. Before the show, a few comics were hanging around chatting. At one point, one of the comics mentioned she was working on her next hour.

“How do you memorize a full hour of material?” another comic asked.

I stopped listening because I was too busy mentally writing this article. Now that I think about it, it was a mistake to ignore her. She may have had a life-changing answer that I completely missed.

But since I spent the time thinking about it while they were all talking, I’ll give you my thoughts.

Some people say that memorization comes down to repetition, but I think that’s short sighted. While repetition helps, it doesn’t ensure you remember every word of every joke come performance time. Especially if you get nervous. Even if you don’t get nervous, maybe you’ll be thrown off by the guy sitting in the front row and oh my god why is his beard so big? Does he have to take it for a walk? Oh crap, I stopped mid joke to ponder these questions and now I can’t remember where I am.

We’ve all been there. 😐

First, you’ve already got a leg up memorizing your material because you wrote it. So it’s already in your head somewhere. I’m not going to say it’s easy to retrieve, but memorizing something you wrote is easier than memorizing something you didn’t.

Second, use images. I wrote two new minutes of material yesterday and wanted to perform it last night. To get me from joke to joke, I created mental images, which are easier to remember and recall than each individual word of every joke.

Here’s how it worked for me:

The bit is about my wife’s career. The first joke is “My wife writes romance novels, or as I like to call them, wish lists.” So I imagined a shopping list on fancy parchment.

My next setup is “It’s hard for me to read her books.” So I imagine the shopping list as a book. I already know why it’s hard for me to read her books because I wrote it [and it’s true]:

“It’s hard for me to read her books. Number one, because I can’t read.
But also because it feels like she’s writing about the life I haven’t given her.
Her last few books were Marriage on Madison Avenue and Passion on Park Avenue.
I’m like, “What about my suggestions: Horny in Hell’s Kitchen, and Desperate in DUMBO?”

[I didn’t say these were GOOD jokes…]

Next I imagined a glass of white wine on one of the book pages, which gets me to the next joke:

Whenever I tell someone she writes romance, they always say the same thing. “Oh you mean smut? Hahahaha.” [I perform this act out as a WASPy middle-aged white woman sipping wine.]
Calling romance novels smut is like calling When Harry Met Sally porn:
It’s not true, no matter how much you want it to be.

With the wine in my hand, I imagine my wife hollering from another room. Which gets me to:

Sometimes she’ll ask for help, but it feels like she has an ulterior motive…
"What’s the fanciest restaurant in NYC?"
Le Bernadin.
"Most romantic vacation spot?”
Paris. Are these for your next book?
"No…places I wish you’d take me."

Finally, I imagine her pointing at my [nonexistent] six-pack abs.

People ask if I’m the inspiration for all her books.
Her characters are 6’4’’ and have 6 pack abs. I’m [air quotes] six foot and slammed a Philly cheesesteak for lunch. You do the math.

A friend asked me “are you ever having sex and she gets up to write it down?”
No.

If anything it’s the opposite.
I'll read her books and pick up a new move.
She’s like “where’d you learn that?”
“Page 46.”

The most important part is to use the images while you memorize the material. After I wrote this stuff, I read through it slowly and created images for each setup. The more detailed the images, the better. The idea—which I’m paraphrasing from the books below—is that your brain remembers unique things. When it sees something new, weird, dangerous, or sexy, it creates a flashbulb memory of that thing. And the interesting, detailed, unique, scary, or sexy the image, the better it’ll stick in your mind. You can make the images as scary or as depraved as you want—no one else has to know unless you write a blog post about it.

The last step is to connect the images to one another in order. That’s why I start reading the wish list like a book. And that book has a picture of a glass of white wine scribbled inside. And if I’m having wine, I’ll always pour one for my wife, who I notice is pointing at my [nonexistent] six-pack… You get the picture.

When it comes time for performance, all I have to remember is the first image. The wish list sets me off on a path of connected images. And before I know it, my set is over and the crowd is giving me a standing ovation.

Once you memorize the material, it’s important to trust that it’s “in there” somewhere. I fret all the time that I’ll forget something, but it’s the fretting that makes me stiff on stage, and that’s when I forget stuff. When I relax and trust that the images are in there, things come easy. Check out The Inner Game of Tennis (listed below) for a great explanation of why this works.

Recommended Reading

• Moonwalking with Einstein

• The Memory Book

• The Inner Game of Tennis

My Two Favorite Tools For Capturing New Ideas

My two favorite tools for capturing new ideas. 

1. Rhodia pocket notebook.

2. Sakura Microperm 01 Pen.

3. Bear.

Lauren drags me into Blick, one of her favorite art stores in the city. After a few minutes following her around looking at Things, I get turned around and start wandering around like a lost toddler. A small part of me feels like I’ve lost my mom—less in a “my wife is like my mom” way and more in the “I lost my only connection to the outside world in this scary place” kind of way. There are so many art supplies.

I look around for someone who works there, someone who could take me to Lost and Found and announce over the PA system that there is a lost boy looking for his wife, but I can’t find anyone. I sweat a little with worry and eventually find solace playing with things on shelves. 

First stop, notebooks. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds of notebooks. There are some with lines, some without. Some with vellum covers. Some that have see through pages. I don’t know why you’d want see through pages unless you want the notes you’re taking to be little more transparent. 

I find myself drawn to Rhodia notebooks. Partially because I don’t know how to pronounce the brand name—is it Roh-DEE-uh or ROH-dee-ua?—but also because it feels like a quality notebook. I snatch one, hoping to purchase it if I ever find the checkout stand. Maybe I could tear pages to use as breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel. Maybe I should look for a pen. That way I can leave a note to whoever finds my body long after I’ve died in here.

The pen aisles—yes aisles—are enormous. They look like endless server racks in some underground data center in rural New Mexico. Is that even a thing? Am I still in Blick? Little pads of paper dot the shelves in front of the pens. Is this where people leave their goodbye notes in case they don’t make it out? I search the floor for the skeletons of other husbands who were dragged into Blick, who got lost and, in a futile effort to leave a note to posterity, found their way to the pen aisle and left their Last Words. I sweat more. This is where I die.

Better write a note to say my goodbyes. I grab a pen and scribble something. I don’t like the tip. What number is this? An 03? Too clumsy. I try a Sakura Microperm 02. Getting warmer. I find it’s smaller 01 brother and write “I’ll always love you, Wiff.” The perfection with which the pen writes gives me a sense of hope. I’ll likely die here, but at least I can write my will with a beautiful pen. I take the pen with me.

I round the corner and move to the next aisle. Notebooks. How did I get back here? I look for my breadcrumbs. Realize I left none. I am doomed. I look up and notice a figure midway down the aisle. Is that another cutout of Bob Ross telling me that there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents? Was it a happy little accident for me to come in here, Bob? Or was it a mistake considering I now know where I perish? There’s light coming from the other end of the aisle. I squint to see if it’s Bob. 

It’s moving. I see the figure. She’s moving. Even if it’s not Wiff, maybe she could help me, an angel sent from above, wherever Bob Ross is. I run toward her. She turns around. It’s Wiff! Hallelujah! I hug her like she’s just returned from war, tell her about the catacombs and the minotaur—there was a minotaur, right?—and we head toward the checkout stand. 

I buy the notebook and the pen as a souvenir of my ordeal. 

Which I now use whenever I want to record a new idea. 

I love the notebook (👈🏾 affiliate link) because it’s small enough to fit in any of my pockets. 

I love the pen (👈🏾 affiliate link) because the ink flows perfectly—just enough make the idea feel solid, but not soo much that it gets messy.

And if I ever forget them, I use Bear on my iPhone. It’s the only app in my drawer, or whatever Apple call the area at the bottom of the home screen. I can tap it and add a new idea in seconds. Check it out here.

Leno & Seinfeld Together Does Not Suck

I did stand-up at Gotham Comedy Club earlier this week. [My set was awesome, thanks for asking.]

I was about to leave when the producer of the show said, “DON’T GO.” [He generally speaks in all caps.] And then he winked at me.

I’m not unaccustomed to people winking at me—it’s the price I pay for being beautiful—but this wink was a weird wink. It wasn’t a “hey sweetheart, would you like a drink” wink. It was a “stick around for a surprise” kind of wink.

I don’t know why he didn’t just say “don’t leave the club because we’ve got two surprise guests coming.” I think saying it would have been easier than winking, not to mention a lot less creepy.

Next thing I know, Jay Leno and Jerry Seinfeld come into the club and sit a few feet in front of me.

Jay and Jerry, sitting in a tree…

Jay got up first and did 15 minutes. I think. It could have been 20? I don’t know. All I know is that he told jokes and they were funny.

He opened with some older, proven material and then did some new stuff [I gave him my notes]. I really hope he’s got a new special coming.

And then he introduced the next comic, a “young guy I recently discovered…I know you’re doing gonna love him…give it up for Jerry Seinfeld!”

From L to R: Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, Microphone

And then Jerry did 15-20 minutes. Much of it was the same as the material in his Jerry Before Seinfeld special on Netflix, but it was still incredible to watch.

The two of those guys performing back to back made me want to throw out my entire act [don’t worry, World, I’m not doing that yet!] and work 100X harder on all new material.

If you haven’t been to Gotham, there’s a very funny comic who’s going to be there 4/12 and 4/13. I’ll be there twice in the next two weeks working out some new material. Come on down!

What about you?

Who are your favorite comedians [besides moi]? Who have you seen recently that you thought was awesome, whether live or on Netflix?

[Btw, comics, here’s how you can book a show at Gotham.]

So You Want To Get Started In Stand-Up...

That's wonderful! I can't wait to buy tickets to your show at the Beacon Theater! I'm sure you'll be there in just a few years.

If I may offer some advice that will help accelerate your career:

1. start writing,

2. read two books,

3. take a comedy class.

That’s it. That’s all you need. This magic combo should get you well on your way to finding your creative voice, landing an agent, and booking your first multi-million dollar endorsement deal. For Juul.

The single most important step is to start writing. Right now. Don’t even finish this [amazing, life changing] blog post. But if you already pushed through and didn’t heed my advice then just continue reading. I don’t want to stop you on your meteoric rise to international stardom. Just promise me that as soon as we’re done here you’ll start writing, okay?

The books will give you a solid writing foundation. You'll learn joke structure. You'll learn how to write and edit material. And you'll gain a few tips on how to perform.

But then get back to the writing. It’s really the most important part of this whole thing.

The third thing, the class, will help. It’ll shortcut the process of putting together your first five minute set; it'll get you on stage faster, and you'll learn how to get on stage in the first place—which isn't always easy to figure out.

My recommendations?

Book 1: Judy Carter's The Comedy Bible: From Stand-up to Sitcom--The Comedy Writer's Ultimate "How To" Guide

Book 2: Stephen Rosenfield's Mastering Stand-Up: The Complete Guide to Becoming a Successful Comedian

Class: Manhattan Comedy School. I took a few of their classes and loved them. I also built their website!

Write Every Day

A few years ago when I first wanted to do stand-up, I googled "how to get started in stand-up" [like all the greats did].

I came across a piece of advice from Louis C.K. that I thought was pretty good. Here it is from laughspin.com: "Go on stage as often as possible. Any stage anywhere. Don’t listen to anyone about anything. Just keep getting up there and try to be funny, honest and original."

I thought it was good advice. I mean, Louis C.K. is was pretty successful.

But now I think it's wrong.

Which is a scary thing to say when so many other people buy into that piece of advice.

So I'll say this: It's wrong for me.

If I had one hour to get better at comedy, I would spend it writing better material.

It's easy to grind it out at open mic after open mic and not get any better. I've seen some people [me] do the same 5 minute set for months, not advancing one bit [also me].

If you're trying to get stronger in the gym, you add more weight. And that's what writing new material does for a comic.

A few weeks ago, I had a spot at Gotham Comedy Club. A few days prior, I decided that I'd perform two new minutes. In a 6 minute set, 2 would be brand new. Risky, but it's the only way I was going to get better.

I wrote some material about Iceland. I thought it was okay, but I didn't think it would do well.

I was wrong.

It went FAR better than I could have imagined. [Someone actually laughed.] Whether I keep that material is another question—I'm constantly adding new stuff and cutting poor performing stuff—but the lesson to me was this: write as often and as much as you can, and trust that some of it will work.

But the point is, now I've got 2 new minutes to play with. I have something to revise. Something to improve. Sure, the delivery might change, but at I'm 2 minutes ahead of where I was before.

My advice today, mostly to myself, but also to anyone who's listening, is to write more. Write every day. Spend as much time as you can afford writing. Write new stuff. Improve old stuff. Don't just get up day after day and bang out the same exact material.

Comic's Corner: What To Do While You Bomb

Photo by Edu Lauton

I just got home after watching two comedy shows.

4.5 hours of mostly terrible comedy. And I don't use the word terrible lightly. [Only heavily.]

Most of the time, I'm a "there's a comedy type for everybody" kind of guy—I'm annoyingly optimistic—but I watched comic after comic perform a joke, die inside and out, and then immediately blame the audience for not laughing. 

“That killed at the earlier show!”
“You guys don’t know good comedy!”
“Tough crowd.” [yes, people are still saying that…]
“Everyone can unclench their assholes now, okay?”

Being told they're stupid for not being able to identify a joke is the number one reason people come to comedy shows! 😐

Every comic bombs [except me]. And that's okay!

But a strong comic understands that there will be good and bad rooms. Good and bad audiences. Good and bad jokes. But they run their set and refine based on audience response. If the audience doesn't laugh, the strong comic doesn't blame them. 

He uses them to get stronger.

So, wise Anthony. How do I remedy the situation? What should I do when I bomb?

First, I’m grateful you acknowledged my wisdom.

Hardly anyone does. ["They don’t know good wisdom!”]

Second, embrace the situation.

Call it out.

Acknowledge you're bombing. The audience already knows it! And the sooner you let them know that you know that they know you’re bombing, the sooner you can get back on their side.

Or not!

Your job is to make them laugh. And maybe you’re just having a bad day at the office. That’s fine. Finish your set, go home, and work on strengthening your act.

How do I let them know I’m bombing?

Just say it! 

A while ago I heard one comic use the line “You’re not seeing a comedian bomb, folks. You’re seeing a spoken word performer kill.” 

The crowd laughed.

And just like that they were back on his side.

Telling them over and over that they suck ostracizes them. It makes them feel like it's their fault.

And it's not. 

It's ours.

3 Books Every Comic Should Read

Bombing & Blaming

Bombing is okay. Blaming the audience is not.

Don't say "tough crowd."
Don't say our assholes are clenched too tight.
Don't say we need to loosen up.

Lashing out at us tells us that a) you're not good at this and b) you're taking it personally. It's your job to make us laugh, Dr. Chuckles.

The audience doesn't care if you bomb. Slog through your set as you rehearsed. That's okay! We'll forget about you the second you get off stage and the next guy bombs even harder. Truly. You aren't that important.

Or call it out. But be honest about it. Just say you're bombing. We'll appreciate it. The second it's out in the open we'll relax and give you another shot. No one walks into a comedy club, shells out $50 for cover, 2 drinks, tax, and tip and says "I can't wait to be underwhelmed." Even fewer people follow up by saying "and I hope the comic blames me for their misery."

It's not the audience; it's you.

I just got back from watching two comedy shows. 4.5 hours of mostly shitty comedy. I don't use the word shitty lightly. Most of the time, I'm a "there's a comedy type for everybody" kind of guy. But tonight I watched comic after comic get up on stage, try out a shitty joke, and then blame the audience for their train wreck of a set.

A good comic understands that they're will be good and bad rooms. Good and bad audiences. Good and bad jokes. But they do their act and refine based on the audience response. If they don't laugh, don't blame them.

If I have to sit through another comic make a joke about everyone's asshole making a sucking sound when you bomb I'm going to kill myself.

So, wise Anthony. How do I remedy the situation? If the jokes I'm doing aren't working, what should I do?

First, embrace the situation. Call it out. Say you're bombing. The audience knows it before you do and the sooner you can call it out the sooner you can get back on their side. But telling them over and over that they suck ostracizes them. It makes them feel like it's their fault. And it's not. It's yours.

Comics shouldn’t blame the audience for their bombing because that turns a benign audience hostile.

If you’re not getting laughs, it’s entirely your fault.

Take responsibility for your act. One comic started out his set by asking if there were any MMA fans in the audience. No one made a sound. He made a joke about how no one was going to get this joke, but then he proceeded anyway. If no one in the audience is going to get your joke, move on to other material, or at least don’t get butthurt when they don’t laugh at your joke.

Having made his joke about no one understanding his MMA jokes, he should have immediately proceeded to his material about having kids. Half the audience had kids, and even those of us without kids can sort of understand what it’s like to have kids [which is exactly why I don’t have kids].

Another comic got up and called out the situation. He said we were a quiet audience. But then he said it was his job to make us laugh. His entire set was crowd work trying to get us laughing. And he did!

Until the next comic got up, and then it was lulls for the rest of the evening.

Comics: Take responsibility for your performance. It’s not us; it’s you.

Blaming the audience turns a benign experience to a bad one. They’re on our side to begin with. The audience wants you to succeed.

But so many fail.

And that's actually okay! As long as you fail the right way.

Failing the right way is performing your act and, upon realizing you're bombing, you call it out and pivot to another topic. One comic tonight was telling jokes about MMA and parenting to a room full of 20s something women and me. Upon realizing he wasn't connecting with the crowd, he switched to racial jokes. Those got laughs [because everyone's a little racist]. Another comic was doing some crowd work and getting good laughs and then switched to salad tossing. The audience went cold. But, he made fun of himself for losing us at that point, made a joke of it, and went back to stuff that was working.

Failing the wrong way is performing your act and, upon realizing you're tanking, you tell the audience to loosen up. You tell them that their assholes are making a giant sucking noise. [I'm not kidding, this happened with 6 separate comics tonight.]