The Joy of Cooking

Thursday brought me to Calvin Cato's mic quippingly entitled, Your Parents' Basement. Calvin is a rare find in comedy, in that he is not only a nice guy, but seems to have a fairly rational perspective on all things related to the business. I had been ask to perform at Rita MenWeep's Strip for a Cure AIDS Walk benefit, and was tempting fate by trying to squeeze in a set before, but no rest for the weary, and quite graciously, Calvin graciously put me up first and let me do my thang.

This is one of my favorite mics in the city, and I think most comics who are somewhere between just beginning and uber successful know that and give it the support it deserves by paying attention and frequenting the bar.

Interestingly, this day also happened to be St. Patrick's Day, which brings me to yet another instance in which I realize that the peasant world is for peasants, the performing world is for performers. The last time this came up was Valentines Day when we had an amazing event at La Mama followed by an installation of my weekly show, Takin off the Ritz. In discussing holiday plans with performers and non-performers alike, it became clear to me that holidays for us are opportunities to bring out our holiday material and throw a special, holiday themed show. For you normal people, it is time to listen to said holiday material and go to said holiday themed shows. This year I tried to convince my sister that doing a show on Christmas Day and coming home the following Monday was no big deal. There are no young children in our lives. We can celebrate holidays whenever the fuck we want to. What does December 25 mean to any of us, personally? The logic was lost on my sister who threatened to disown me if I missed another family holiday, so home I went, and when St. Patrick's Day rolled around, out came my green feathers and burlesque number about drinking, but I stayed sober and was happy to be in the early set so I could be home before midnight.

At Calvin's mic, I tried out a bit that is more of a story than a punchline bit, and though the lol's weren't thunderous, I did have an all-comedian audience smiling throughout, so that when I did get to a punchline in my next bit (wordplay, te amo) they were more than ready to guffaw. I want to go back to said story and organize it around a couple of one liners, but I think this may have been a big part of what my "win one for the gipper" speech giver was talking about when he told me not to fear the silence. Part of the craft is getting the audience ready to laugh, and part of it is actually making them laugh. With the exception of some of the best one line comics around, you have to be willing to take the audience somewhere before you can expect them to be there with you when it's time to ha ha.

Sometimes I like to think of comedy as a reduction as in cooking. Like making a gravy or something. (Should I mention my ex, the reality TV chef, or can it just be inferred?) You put a lot in the pot to begin with, spices, broth, vegetables... I have no idea what else goes in there. I dated a chef, but learned nothing and have never, myself, actually made anything that didn't result in popcorn or mostly burnt rice. Point is, lots of stuff. Too much stuff. If you ate it Ike that it would be gross and bland, and the wrong consistency, and all in all, just off. You have to boil it for a while and let some of the nonsense and jokes about Facebook boil off until what yo utter is this really great, smart, poignant yet not overpowering 30 minute Comedy Central special slash gravy. Easy as pie! Damnit. Now I totally want pie. No homo.