"You ever get mistaken for gay?"

A few weeks ago, after one of my comedy shows, a guy came up to me and said, “Hey, you ever get mistaken for gay?”

If you’re asking, don’t you already have your answer? Also. did you see the show? Of course I do!

So I said, “Are you gonna buy me a drink?” Let’s get this thing started, you know? [And then we made love to each other.]

What a weird question though. You wouldn’t ask that if you didn’t think it, right? Like no one ever says, “Hey, anyone ever tell you you look like Heather Locklear? Because you don’t. Like at all. I was just curious, if ever in your life, someone was out of their mind enough to have asked you that.”

We don’t do that with complimentary things—although I took this guy’s question as a compliment. Whenever we’re about to ask if someone’s ever been told they look like so and so, it’s never a good comparison.

“Hey, you ever get mistaken for Mother Theresa?”

“Yeah, it’s the sunken eyes and the habit I’m wearing.”

Why do we do that to other people? We always think it’s a compliment. We never think to ourselves, Does this guy want to know he looks like Steve Buschemi?

We’ll do it to complete strangers. What compels us to approach a complete stranger and say, “You look like someone?”

What is that person supposed to do with that information?

And then we always defend it as a compliment. We even say it’s a compliment. Shouldn’t that be obvious?

You never say, “Wow, you’re so pretty. And I totally mean that as a compliment.”

But, “Wow, you look like Ryan Philipee” and then you see the look of confusion on the Ryen-lookalike’s face, “but I totally mean that as a compliment.”

What if, instead of rushing to say a half-baked compliment, we didn’t.

It wouldn’t be hard, it might take some practice, but overall I think it would have a better reception, you know?

This might sound like I’ve had issues with people saying things to me that sounded like compliments but really weren’t. Not that case.

People have told me I look like Ryan Reynolds—which I’ll take—and David Duchovny (during his X-Files years), which I’ll also take. The gay comment doesn’t bother me because I assume he thought other people would think I was gay because I dress well and shower daily.

Anyway, let’s wrap it up, shall we?

Let’s pay compliments where compliments are due. And even then, it’s a little easier and nicer to just say “you’re pretty” or “you’re handsome” or whatever isn’t going to piss someone else off than it is to compare them to a celebrity who may or may not be attractive.

Dying Leaves!

This past week, Wiff and I drove up to New Hampshire to look at the fall foliage.

Leaf Peeping—as it’s colloquially known—is a time-honored east coast tradition where you drive up to the mountains and watch leaves die. Basically you watch trees get upset that they can’t make chlorophyll and tell their leaves, “To HELL with you.”

Every fall, deciduous trees turn into frustrated middle aged men who also can’t produce chlorophyll. The get made they can’t get their liquids up and then sulk all winter.

By the time we got there, it was clear that we’d missed peak leaf peeping season. We checked the online forecasts in the weeks leading up to our getaway to ensure we got there during peak foliage season but, sometime between the moment we hopped in our car and the 6 hours it took to drive there, the trees had shed much of their fall coverage. They were already switching to stick season, all the rage this season.

The trees still had 50-75% of their dying leaves still hanging from the tree, but the leafless trees were clearly visible. They stuck out like the tall kid who hit puberty earlier than all the other kids at school. They look a little different. Totally awkward. And there’s nothing they can do until all the other trees catch up. And, even though they can’t play a lick of basketball, they get picked first because everyone needs a Center.

Some people would regard this as a failure. “We didn’t get to see the leaves at just the right moment in their long drawn-out death. Our trip is ruined!” “We should have come earlier when the leaves were less dead but still very much in the process of dying.” “The trees didn’t cooperate so I chopped them all down.” What?

We, being the easy-to-please recreational dying leaf lovers that we are, decided to make the best of it. Instead of focusing on what we’d lost, we looked at what we gained: a shoulder-season perspective. A foreshadowing of winter, arguably the best season.

I like the term shoulder season. It’s a handsome way of describing the time in relation to another time. But it’s inaccurate. The shoulder season is just the end of one and the beginning of another. It’s more of a valley between peak seasons. My shoulders aren’t valleys. They aren’t really peaks either, but do you see where I’m going with this. I think we just like it because of its alliteration.

This simple change in perspective—focusing on what we’d gained instead of lost—allowed us to enjoy everything about the moment. It’s a simple mental flip, really. And, brains being the problem solving machines they are, all it takes is asking yourself that one question: do I feel luck…. Wait no. It’s what have I gained from this opportunity?

Try it. Think of a recent event that didn’t turn out exactly as you planned. What did you gain from the situation?

I wonder how far we could take this line of thinking? Obviously we can’t flip everything around. “Boy, I’m homeless and hungry, but at least I’m not saddled with a mortgage and heart disease.” Alright, Pollyanna, get back in your box.

“I gambled away all my money, but at least my bookie’s kids will have a great Christmas!” Okay, wow. Where are we finding these sad examples?? Please tell me there’s another, less serious, example out there?

“When I pulled that trigger, little did I realiz—“ Okay, I think we get the point…

Maybe that’s too far. But what about something a little less dire, but a bit more serious than my mail was 10 minutes late today, grr!

“My girlfriend dumped me, but at least now I have more time to focus on becoming a better man. All that money I would have spent on dates and gifts can go towards my gym membership and doing my laundry more than twice a month!”

There we go! :

There are obviously limits to its use as well. We can’t go thanking the world for the problems it hands left and right. But we can open our view of success to more than one option.

Lemme explain.

One way to approach our New Hampshire getaway: this trip will be a success if and only if we’re at peak leaf season, the leaves are yellow to orange, with a splash of red, and if I don’t gain 12 pounds despite only eating pasta and pizza and wine at the Italian restaurant in our hotel.

That’s a pretty limited scope of success. If even one of those things doesn’t happen, the entire trip is a failure.

An alternate approach: this trip will be a success as long as no one dies. Although, even then, you could thank the world for giving you a lesson to be prepared for a black bear attack next time.

You get the point?

Further still, what if we stopped measuring things in terms of good and bad, success and failure, as a function of our expectations. Yeah, if someone gets food poisoning, that’s terrible. But barring the unlikely things, why what if we opened ourselves up to multiple definitions of success?

This whole article is just a giant reminder for myself not to get too caught up in how reality measures up against my expectations. I have high, often perfectionist expectations, and measuring reality against will make me an unhappy stress ball. Why not just relax, have fun, and enjoy what each moment brings? Sure, if the waiter fucks up your order tell him, but don’t let that ruin your whole meal. Thank him for giving you the opportunity to practice speaking up for yourself.

And yeah, next year I’ll plan our trip for a few weeks earlier in the season so we can see the leaves dying at just the right moment.

What about you? What do you get stressed out about? What would happen if you adjusted your expectations? Let me know in the comments below!

Bailey's VT Photo Shoot

These are a few samples from Bailey's most recent photo shoot, entitled Boudoir Bone. There were no bones present during the shoot. An odd artistic choice, but it was hers to make.

She was a bit of a diva about the whole thing [what dog wouldn't be] but we ended up getting the shots we wanted. 

5 Tips For Starting a Career In Acting

Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

Move to New York or Los Angeles. 

The first thing you'll need to do is move. Your big dream is too big to fit in your small town. Your only options are acronyms: NYC, LA. Sure, you can find opportunities in other cities, but putting "LA-based" on your resume is way cooler than "Cleveland-based."

Get a headshot. 

You've moved to a real city. Congratulations. Welcome to crippling financial insecurity!

Next, you'll need headshots. They have to be professional and they have to be expensive. Can't afford them? Ask your roommates to chip in. You'll pay them back with tips from waiting tables.

Headshots are your way of showing people what you look like because your looks are the only thing that matter. [I am not kidding.]

If you're hot, at least an 8.5 or a 9, you'll have an easier time in the biz.

5 to 7? Be prepared to battle to the death for the worst roles [anything with the Weinstein Group].

If you're anything below a 5, oof. If I were you, I'd practice saying "do you want that with whip?". Unless you have a unique physical characteristic...in which case you could carve a niche as a character actor - [think Doughy White Bossman, or Lithe Porcelin-skinned Corpse]. Don't worry about getting pigeon-holed. That's the only way you'll find work.

When you get your headshots, get 3-4 different "looks" so you can send the right headshot for each role. You'll need one serious look, one smiling, one looking over your shoulder, and one naked.

Any reputable headshotist will Photoshop out your double chin. You might think you can hide your double chin by sticking out your neck and pushing your shoulders back [known in the industry as Gooseing]. You can't. You might think you don't have a double chin. You definitely do. 

Casting Directors are trained to look for double chins and, unless they're casting for "Guy/Girl with Double Chin" they'll disqualify you for being ugly.

Sign Up For Acting classes

While you're spending money you don't have, sign up for acting classes.

Here you'll get to meet your competition. On the surface, you'll be working with partners in various scenes to develop your acting ability in pursuit of your dream. But you'll realize pretty quickly [during introductions] that none of you has any acting ability whatsoever and you're all pretty close to quitting and moving back to your parents' basement.

Your goal in acting class is to find ways to undercut and backstab your classmates to ensure you come out on top. 

Be Attractive

You might think you're only cut out for such distinguished roles as "dad" or "guy with kids" or "man married to woman with children" [all roles I've played], but unless you're beautiful, you'll have a snowball's chance in hell of landing even those parts.

This applies even if you're a phenomenal actor [which you're not, and will have realized after every audition]. If you're not attractive, be prepared to do a LOT of work as an extra [also with the Weinstein Group]. Extra work is fun because you get to work long hours, earn minimum wage, and your work may not make it to the final cut. 

To ensure everyone's on the same page in terms of attractiveness, a midwest 9 is a Los Angeles 6, which is a New York 1.

Sign up for Backstage.com

Okay, so you moved to LA or NYC, had your 12 roommates front you money for your headshot, and signed up for an acting class that you now use as a support group to deal with the impending soul-crushing rejection. 

Now it's time to put yourself out there!

Sign up for Backstage.com. You could also use actorsaccess.com. These two websites are where you'll compete with thousands of other actors for roles with pay scales ranging from "Some Pay" to "No Pay, meals provided." 

Do not sign up for Nycastings.com. It's a steaming stack of turds. The interface is kludgy, the site is slow, and they charge an arm and a leg to put up multiple pictures and videos. And those are the only ways to show casting directors you're not as moose-ish as the next schlump. 

Be prepared to apply for a lots of roles and attend lots of auditions. You'll need to learn how to deal with lots of rejection.

But... look at each of those as a learning experience. Each time you go out, you'll get a little better. You'll earn another line item on your resume [which no one will read].

One of you millions of misguided readers might make it. The rest of us will look at you as an example of what we wish we were: talented and hardworking [beautiful].

Here's a supercut of the first background work I ever did. NOTE: The audio will be difficult to follow since I cut out each shot that didn't have my face in it. 

If you have suggestions for others on how to make it in the biz, or a success [or failure] story, leave a comment below!
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Where have all the manners gone?

I held the door for an asshole the other day.

I opened the door; she walked right in; she didn't say a thing.

Yes, people like this actually exist.

I was raised to hold the door open for people. When I was a kid, my mom said "if you ever want a girlfriend, learn your manners." Apparently she thought that would be my only attractive quality.

He's chubby. And he's a dunce. But you should SEE the way he chews with his mouth closed.

Side note: She clearly didn't know how to motivate me. At the time I was far more interested in my Transformers toys than girls. [If you said "robots in disguise" after reading "Transformers" we probably would have been friends.]

I assumed that everyone's mother was like this.

I was wrong.

Maybe it's geography?

I live in New York, which gets a bad rap for being filled with short-tempered jerks. Based on my experience, that's completely true. But, while they are short tempered and don't suffer fools [tourists] gladly, they're the friendliest people I've ever met.

Yes, there are a lot of assholes here. But [anecdotally, and in no way verifiable] I think no more or less than anywhere else, adjusting for population density. In other words, I think the percentage of people who are assholes is constant everywhere.

Maybe it's my building?

Many of the people living in my building are students from countries where they hire workers to cram people onto trains. The cities where these people are from are far denser than New York. Maybe they don't even notice me? Maybe I'm just background noise to them? [Or maybe they think I'm a humanoid robot?] Possibly, but many of these students still say thank you, so the Asshole Quotient is constant here as well.

Maybe it's technology?

data-animation-override>
“Maybe in some strange way, writing off people in the digital realm makes it easier to ignore them in the real one?”

— Anthony LeDonne

We live in an age where we require little interpersonal interaction [thank heavens!]. One can, hypothetically speaking, never leave his apartment except to take his dog for a walk or do stand-up. It's entirely possible to avoid face-to-face interaction all day.

I wonder if we've become desensitized to others around us. How could someone say thank you if he doesn't even register me holding the door for him?

Overall, technological isolation isn't a bad thing. I love avoiding inane conversations about [anything] the weather or sports in a checkout line [anywhere].

But perhaps people are in a digital mode so often that they're unable to adjust to real life? It's easy to ignore the online persona who left a mean Yelp review. And it's even easier not to respond to someone's nice, informative tweet, to say thank you for writing something. [Like a joke.]

Maybe in some strange way, writing off people in the digital realm makes it easier to ignore them in the real one?

I hold doors open for people because I'm aware of them. I see them. I hear them. I know what it's like to be them, walking behind a [terribly handsome] guy like me.

And that's why I've decided to make them notice me.

To each person who thanks me for holding the door, I say "you're welcome."

And if they don't thank me, I say it even louder.

You may not register that I've done something nice for you, but you'll definitely register my passive aggressive comment.

And no one's going to defend being a dick.

What do you think, People Of The Digital World?

Do you hold doors for people?
Do you thank people who hold them for you?
Do I have any attractive qualities besides my manners? Kidding.
[Not kidding.]
Write your answer in the comments below!

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How 5 Minutes Editing a Photo Will Make You Look a Photography Wizard

See this image? It's pretty cool, right?? [SAY IT'S COOL, DAMMIT]

I took that out my window the other day. But it didn't come out of the camera looking like that. It was dark with little dynamic range. Basically everything was dark and bleh. But I liked the composition so I decided to spruce it up a bit.

Here's how I did it.

---

1. Rule of Thirds

I don't know what genius came up with the rule of thirds but, for the sake of brevity, let's just say it was me. [Don't fact check that.]

"What is the rule of thirds?" you might ask.

It's a way to make your image more interesting.

Lemme show you...

Behold...The RULE OF THIRDS!!!

Check out this screenshot from Lightroom.

Can you see those faint gray lines forming a grid? They cut the image horizontally and vertically in...wait for it... thirds??

Those are the rule of third guides.

The theory goes that you should compose the image so that the interesting stuff goes on the lines. 

Want to draw focus to a face? Put that face at one of the intersections.

How about a building? Put it on a line. 

2. Auto Settings Are Your Friend

As a guy who always shoots in Manual mode, it pains me to click the Auto Settings button in Adobe Lightroom. [So I hit Cmd+U like a goddamn baller.]

Lightroom's actually pretty smart with auto settings. It's a great starting point and from there I'll tweak as necessary.

 

3. Dehaze is my secret weapon

I've started dehazing most photos. Just a little bit, maybe 10-20 points. But it makes a subtle difference.

4. Bump up the exposure

I'm constantly under exposing stuff in the camera. [Translation, pictures come out of the camera darker than I like.]

To compensate, I bump up the exposure slider in Lightroom's Basic adjustment pane. 

...but...

BUT...

You can only go so far before you start awakening the little noise goblins in your image. These little buggers come out when you lighten an image. 

See here:

Before Luminance Noise Reduction (Click to enlarge)

After Luminance Noise Reduction (Click to enlarge)

And there's only one way to combat those buggers...and it's:

5. Noise Reduction

Depending on how much noise you introduced into your picture by increasing the Exposure slider, you'll may have to contend with the noise goblins. They are tricky little bastards. But a little noise reduction can take care of them [noise goblins? how much wine have I had??]

In Lightroom's Detail pane, in the Noise Reduction section, there's a slider for Luminance. Slide it. Go ahead. I won't look. You can slide with your other hand too for all I care. But just try it.

You will lose some detail when you use noise reduction. That's the tradeoff... But I'm okay with more pillowy clouds in this image if it means getting rid of the noise in the sky. 

3 Books Every Comic Should Read

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I Love My Workspace

About a month ago Wiff and I moved up a floor in our building. Our new place is larger, which means we each get dedicated workspaces. Pretty cool. [If you're a work dork.]

The thing is, "work" for us is "fun" because we're both doing what we love. She's an author/lifestyle blogger and I'm a website designer/cookbook author/stand-up comedian. [We do it all for the slashes.]

I've always loved minimalist workspaces. Even in college, my desk had nothing on it [including homework].

When I had a "normal" job, it was almost a point of pride to have nothing on my desk. I judged people who had pictures of their families [unless it was just the dog]. I even got rid of my company phone.

My desk has a few more things on it, but they're all functional.

Here's what I've got on my desk:

My Bullet Journal

Wiff turned me on to bullet journaling. Each page in the bullet journal has a matrix of dots and nothing else. No droplet icons to track how much water I'm drinking, no "write your daily aspirations here" boxes [that always remained empty], and certainly no motivational quotes.

Since there's no extra baggage - none, really - I'm free to design each page how I see fit. I've settled on this for my daily/weekly journal format. I use it in conjunction with a cube timer [spoiler alert: next section] to track where all my times goes.

The Cube Timer

This little guy goes off every hour, reminding me to write down what I plan to do for the next hour. So when it goes off at 2pm, I write "edit blog post" [read: make a drink]. And then I edit that blog post [make a Negroni].

My MacBook Pro

If my home was on fire and I had to save only one thing, it would be my computer. [I'd of course run back up to make sure Wiff and Dog made it out okay!]

An Acrylic Monitor Stand

To hold the Apple Thunderbolt Display.

An Acrylic Desk Organizer Thingy

Wiff bought one of these for herself and, after having to listen to me pine for it [our desks face each other] she bought me one.

My Pen

I was recently turned on to fountain pens. And I will never go back.

How to Fake it Till You Make It: Smiling

I read in Scott Adams’ book recently that faking a smile can make you feel happier. 

It’s something my mother told me as a kid and something I’ve always done. Which may explain why I’m generally pretty happy.

But it’s weird, right?

Normally we’d expect that feeling happy would cause us to smile. I see something that makes me happy and I smile because I’m happy. 

We’re just like dogs in this sense. My sees a treat in my hand, becomes happy, and then her tail starts wagging.

But what if I wagged her tail for her like I was priming some sort of old, fluffy, water pump?

I haven’t tried it. Mostly because the moment I grab her tail she starts wagging it on her own. And I’m too nice a guy to yell at her to put her in a down mood and then wag her tail like some sadistic weirdo. 

But that’s what happens when I start smiling.

I start to feel better. Even right now while I’m typing this. I fake a smile [because my wine glass is empty] and then I feel better.

I wonder what else I could start faking in order to be that thing?

How can I fake being funny so I can be funnier? 

Can I fake being stronger so I can be fitter?

When is Then Now?

We still use weird anachronistic phrases like “take a load off”. Why? They don’t really make sense any more. No one’s carrying around such a heavy load they need to take it off. I don’t think we’re afraid to use direct language. Although saying “sit, relax” is a bit weird.

Maybe we like the more colorful language. It’s more euphemistic. It harkens back to a time earlier than now. Which everyone seems to like.

Not a specific time. Just… "then." Earlier. 

Things were simpler then. Then didn’t have the pressures, all the things of now. 

But what if things then weren’t as simple as we hope? 

What if then was just as complicated as now?

Now has cars, which makes getting around faster than a horse, but drivers back then still needed to take their horses in for maintenance. Saddles broke, fluids need checking, horseshoes needed rotating.

Maybe they used language of an even older generation? 

What was so complicated to them (back then) that they longed for a simpler time?

How far back does this recursive loop go?

Did the biblical Abraham hate reading bad news on his tablet as much as I hate reading it on mine?

Were multicellular organisms like “remember when there was just one of us?”

But we also long for the future. Things are simpler then too. 

The problems of today will vanish with the hypothetical solutions of tomorrow. And just as we push the complexities of the past juuuuust out of memory’s reach, the problems of tomorrow are also conveniently forgotten.

We’d rather be anywhere - any when - other than now.

But now’s not so bad!

At least that’s what all those meditating monks tell us. Focus on the present. Live in the moment. Now is totally where it’s at. 

Now has lots of really great things.

Plenty of shitty things too. But those problems will be solved (soon).

Now has so many really cool things to experience. And we can actually experience them. We don’t have to wish for it in a future then. 

Okay, I’m confusing myself now…

I got a little off topic. I was wondering why people used euphemistic language, thought it was because we secretly yearn for a simpler time, said that simpler time wasn’t so simple, and then this whole thing got off the rails.

Even the slightest censure isn’t fair here because I have no real alternative.

Tell you not to use that language? 

Anyway…

If we keep wishing for a “then” then we totally miss the now. And now rocks. 

Now we have dogs who cuddle while we write pointless monologue [like this].

Now has cocktails, good food, friends, lovers. [Who actually says lovers anymore? I’m trying to bring it back.]

Okay, let’s bring this home.

I guess where I’m going with all this is…things will get better...soon.

And take a load off.

'Twas the Night Before Inauguration Day...

I made this video just for you...

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I love this Walt Whitman poem...

(I recommend reading this aloud to yourself. It's much more beautiful when you can hear the words.)

Election Day, November, 1884

If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show, 
'Twould not be you, Niagara— nor you, ye limitless prairies— nor
    your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemite— nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic
    geyser-loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregon's white cones— nor Huron's belt of mighty lakes— nor
    Mississippi's stream:
—This seething hemisphere's humanity, as now, I'd name— the still
    small voice vibrating— America's choosing day,
(The heart of it not in the chosen— the act itself the main, the
    quadrennial choosing,)
The stretch of North and South arous'd— sea-board and inland—
    Texas to Maine— the Prairie States— Vermont, Virginia, California, 
The final ballot-shower from East to West— the paradox and conflict, 
The countless snow-flakes falling—( a swordless conflict, 
Yet more than all Rome's wars of old, or modern Napoleon's:) the
    peaceful choice of all,
Or good or ill humanity— welcoming the darker odds, the dross: 
—Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purify— while the heart
    pants, life glows:
These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,
Swell'd Washington's, Jefferson's, Lincoln's sails.

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Come see me this Monday, January 23, at 9:30 pm at Gotham Comedy Club. I guarantee it won't be a terrible disappointment.

Take Me to chuckletown

When Your Bread's As Stale As Your Jokes

Crostini is the answer to the question "what can I do with this two day old baguette besides throw it out or beat my dog?"

Having lost it's initial freshness, but not yet possessing the brittle dryness of a giant baguette-shaped-bread crumb, two day old baguette is in culinary limbo. It's just sitting there in the pantry, a dead loaf walking. awaiting it's final destiny, being pulverized to smithereens [always wanted to use that word] as breadcrumbs. 

I, being an outside the breadbox thinking young lad, decided to give it a second chance [recidivism is low in our pantry] and offered to commute its sentence if it agreed to take a little heat.

...

I can't keep this up. Allegory over!

Long story short: Two day old baguette makes perfect toast!

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Ingredients

Makes 2ish servings

• Half a baguette, two days old.

• 4 tbsp Extra Virgin Olive Oil

• 1 garlic clove, peeled

• Kosher salt

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Recipe

1. Put a piece of foil on a half sheet pan [or whole, if that's your thing]. This is my fave. Place your oven rack in the highest position that gets the bread closest to the heat without touching it.
   Yeah, if you click that and buy it I make money. 

2. Cut the two day old baguette into 1/2 inch thick pieces and arrange them in one layer in the foil-lined sheet pan.

3. Glug some extra virgin olive oil onto the bread.
   Try to do it evenly but don't stress if it's not. This is the toughest step if you're culinarily OCD-ish like me... but just trust that the heat and capillary action will help the oil equilibrate in the bread.* Resist the urge to get an aerosolizer... Single-function tools have no place in your kitchen.
   *complete fabrication.

4. Broil that slicked up two day old bread until it's good and toasted. Rub the peeled garlic clove on the toasted crostini. Sprinkle that oily, garlicky bready goodness with salt.
   The toasted, hardened surface of the crostini acts as a grater of sorts. It always amazes me how little the clove is after rubbing it on all the slices.

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 us.

i just got back from watching two entire 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 not laughing. They'd look towards the bar at their buddies

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.

I watched 25 comics bomb on Tuesday night. It’s okay. It happens to everyone [except me].

But most of them blamed the audience for their train wreck of a set.

WHY?!?

Do your set as you rehearsed it and get off the stage.

If we bomb, it’s entirely our fault. No one walks into a comedy club, drops $15 for cover, $30 for two mediocre cocktails [I'm a picky drinker], and $8 for tax and tip and thinks "I can't wait to be underwhelmed tonight!”

Blaming the audience tells the audience that you’re taking their silence personally. And you shouldn’t. The audience doesn’t want you to fail. They start out on our

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.

WHY?!?

If no one in the audience is going to get your joke, move on to other material.

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.

This Tuesday I watched comic after comic bomb. Normally that’s okay. Comics bomb all the time. [Although 10 in a row may be some sort of record.]

But these guys and gals bombed, and then they blamed the audience.

Rookie move. [I say that because these guys are pros and should have known better.]

How is it the audience’s fault that your jokes didn’t land?

The audience wants you to succeed.

But so many fail.

And that's actually okay!

As long as you fail the right way.

What is failing the right way vs failing the wrong 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.]

Mission Statement

I want to leave the world a little better than I found it. I want to do that by making people laugh. 

There’s no bad laugh. 

Well there are. If you’re laughing AT people and those people aren’t doing stupid things, then those are bad laughs. 

So maybe there are some bad laughs. 

And I don’t really like loud cackles and technically those are laughs. And annoying laughs - they know who they are - are bad. 

So there are actually a lot of bad laughs. 

But as long as you’re not laughing at someone who’s not doing something stupid, and the sound, volume, and timbre of your laugh are pleasing, or in the very least not annoying to a majority or minority of people, then the laugh is good. 

I guess there are only a few good laughs.

So if I can raise the number of good laughs by one then I’ve done something good. 

Not that I can die, retire, or even make any amount of money by bringing one laugh into the world.

Maybe I should aim a little higher. For more good laughs. 

Where was I going with all this?

I want to make the bring into the world a Pareto-efficient quantity of laughs, those where we can increase the number of good laughs without increasing the number of bad laughs. I want to make more people laugh (increase positive thing) without making more people cry (while not increasing negative thing).

Unless those people are crying from laughing so hard…

All the High Fives

Congrats, you. [This is a note to myself, not you, the reader. Just didn't want you thinking you deserved any congratulating. Unless you did something congratulations worthy, in which case, Congrats!]

You wrote a To Do list item and actually completed it. No one will know the struggles you went through to check that box either. 

You had to actually write down "Write The Newsletter" on a pad of paper. That took a lot of energy. So much so that you had to wait until the following day to regain enough energy to complete the task.

And then you had to draw that distractingly warped box to the left to the todo item. That was a pretty smart move, planning for your eventual success.

And then you had to write the newsletter, organize it, setup MailChimp, subscribe to your own newsletter, and then send it out. To yourself. 

But someone read it [you/me]. And he laughed. And then he forwarded it to his wife, Lauren. And she laughed. Which gave you the boost you needed to not go back to bed. (You did write a newsletter today, after all.)

So here's to you, Me. May you continue to share your talents with the world. And if not the world, then just yourself. And if you ever want to view your prized baby, just to remind yourself how smart/funny/magnificent/glory you are, then click here. 

*pats you/me/self on the back*.