Friday, June 02, 2006  

Last Comic Caring

I write this with full knowledge that it could be on a judge's desk someday labelled "Exhibit A."

But:

The next person who asks me, "Hey, how come you didn't try out for Last Comic Standing?" is getting ninja punched in the voice box until my shoulder cramps and I have to stop.

Which actually gives me an idea. I would try out if it really was a fight to be the last comic standing. I would definitely want to be on a show where I could hide in the living room and smash comics who are better connected and more telegenic than me in the face with a piece of rebar (note: this plan is contingent on Joe Rogan not being on the show). It could be like Highlander - if you kill another comic, you get all his jokes, until there really was only one comic standing, with a notebook and a samurai sword, bombing at the Comedy Connection because it's all tourists.

But I digress.

While LCS has been very good for some friends of mine, and I'm geniunely happy for them because of it, on balance it combines everything I hate about stand-up comedy: cutthroat competitiveness; flashy, high-energy, short sets; pandering to an audience; and, worst of all, having to live with other standup comics.

I know my comedy, and I know myself. My act isn't suited for comedy contests, and even if it were, I'm not wired to excel in high-pressure situations. Which is why I'm king of the road and my friends are all on television. I don't think in those terms. This isn't an artistic issue - this is practical. Grace under pressure and short zingy jokes are going to get you a lot further with the industry (I refuse to capitalize that term like it's important) than quirky shaggy dog stories. If I'm ever going to "make it" (a mythological condition that doesn't actually exist), it's going to be in a roundabout, indie kind of way. And that's fine with me.

Comedy contests are wretched things. It brings out the worst in comedians. This is an unbelievably ego-driven business under the best circumstances - throw in money, prestige, and television, and it becomes insufferable. Some of it's ego, some of it's nerves, but to be backstage at a contest is to be caught in a swirling suckhole of desperation and naked aggression. And some guys thrive on this, no doubt. Makes them excel. They dig it like big league pitchers dig it. Not me. I get twitchy and drunk.

And I've never seen a comedy contest that wasn't at least a little rigged. Word up.

I've been doing this a very long time, and I have a certain amount of professional standing and a commensurate amount of personal pride, and there is not a doubt in my mind that were I to audition, I would be one of the guys they make look like a desperate, unfunny shithead, and I haven't taken the path less travelled for this long to fall for that now.

How come I didn't audition for Last Comic Standing?

Because I ain't goin' out like that.