Reasons I don’t do standup:
I was born with a nuchal cord times 4 that means umbilical cord wrapped around my neck 4 times. So really if you think about it, I’ve been trying to kill myself longer than I’ve been alive.
So I figured if they were gonna be like that they were at least gonna give me some Ativan, so I… earned me some Ativan. And Benadryl. And haldol. In the industry this is referred to as a B52 as in, Benadryl, 5mg of Haldol, and 2mg of Ativan. I did not get a B52, I got a B 10 and 4 (I really earned it) and woke up on the floor of (State hospital) with my back seized up from the haldol and ~*that’s how I found out they were hiring!*~
And after that I just kept working in mental health because I figured if I was going to be stuck in psych hospitals for the rest of my life I might as well have the keys.
And now I have ten more years of jokes like that. Many of them involve feces and I often forget not to tell them over dinner.
Cloony The Clown by Shel Silverstein
I’ll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown Who worked in a circus that came through town. His shoes were too big and his hat was too small, But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all. He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes, He had a green dog and a thousand balloons. He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall, But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all. And every time he did a trick, Everyone felt a little sick. And every time he told a joke, Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke. And every time he lost a shoe, Everyone looked awfully blue. And every time he stood on his head, Everyone screamed, “Go back to bed!” And every time he made a leap, Everybody fell asleep. And every time he ate his tie, Everyone began to cry. And Cloony could not make any money Simply because he was not funny. One day he said, “I’ll tell this town How it feels to be an unfunny clown.” And he told them all why he looked so sad, And he told them all why he felt so bad. He told of Pain and Rain and Cold, He told of Darkness in his soul, And after he finished his tale of woe, Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no, They laughed until they shook the trees With “Hah-Hah-Hahs” and “Hee-Hee-Hees.” They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks, They laughed all day, they laughed all week, They laughed until they had a fit, They laughed until their jackets split. The laughter spread for miles around To every city, every town, Over mountains, 'cross the sea, From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee. And soon the whole world rang with laughter, Lasting till forever after, While Cloony stood in the circus tent, With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent. And he said,“THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT - I’M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT.” And while the world laughed outside. Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.
Going up on stage is about the most terrifying thing you can possibly do. I’ve done it, sang in a a garage band that managed to get in front of a crowd of ~300 people. You gotta find a way to deal with it. For me, it was a kind of “fuck it, we ball” mode of thinking where I just went for it as hard as I could and I, at least, was going to have a good time.
For a comedy act, I would think that it’s even more scary because of how much more interaction with the crowd there is. You’re getting constant, direct, and immediate feedback, and often expected to deal with hecklers and such. At least with a band, we’d just get up on stage and blast out trash as hard as we could and the crowd just had to hang on for dear life until it was over. Good on Anon for having the guts to do that, I hope they use this as a learning experience and don’t just give up.
Years ago I partied all night and went to a Magic tournament after, still kinda drunk, and was fighting to keep awake while playing. After one match, my opponent asked me why I was so nervous during the game if I was clearly winning since the begging. He got really sad to know that he was beat by someone who had not sleep in 24hs and was kinda drunk.
recently played cards against humanity and everybody got fucking destroyed by the guy sleeping everytime he put a card down
When we play we occasionally get wrecked by Rando Cardrissian
I swear the game just does that. Even if you don’t do rando, the card you draw was perfect for last round.
I saw a video years ago of a stand-up show where they gave different amateur comedians a shot on stage, one guy did exactly this. Didn’t look like he was faking.
Open mic nights are great, and horrible.
I will say that if you ever have a chance to do it, and have the ability to come up with even bad jokes, try it.
You’ll suck. Everyone sucks early on, even and especially the really big names. All of them bombed early on, and many have bombed after they had their craft honed.
It’s terrifying, even if you think you’re going to be fine. You’ve got your tight 5 or 15, you nailed all your public speaking classes, you’re the one people invite to parties because you’re that guy that can tell stories and keep a room laughing and having a good time all night.
Then you step up into lights, with whatever crowd is there, watching you, waiting for you to entertain them, waiting to decide if you’re funny or not. Yeah, it’s open mic, you aren’t getting booed off stage unless you’re a dickbag. They’ll clap politely at the end as long as you make an effort. But the crowd isn’t going to fake laughing, and they can’t fake being bored.
And you will fuck up. You’ll stumble over words you practiced a dozen times. You’ll fuck up the punchline. You’ll fuck the timing up. Something is going to go wrong.
But guess what? You’ll fuck off the stage, and you’ll be okay. It ain’t the end of the world. Maybe you’ll even like it all, bombing and all. Maybe you’ll run and never come back to try again. But you did it. You got the fuck up there, you did your bit, and all that fear and belly clenching is a memory you’ll never lose. It’s one of the most unique experiences you can have without being arrested.
If you decide to try again, you’ll have learned from it. You’ll do better, even if it’s only a little. But all those nerves, you know how to handle them. If you still bomb, who the fuck cares, it can’t be as bad as that first time.
Now, me, I fucking tsar bombad my first try. Like, even the polite clapping at the end was scattered and done out of pity, not because I tried. It wasn’t even that the jokes were bad, they get laughs elsewhere still. It’s just the nature of the new. Every speech I’d given, every class I’d taught, it didn’t matter because that stage was an alien world. I fucked every single one up.
But the second time? I got laughs. Didn’t win over everyone, I went with some absurdist stuff and was over the top, which isn’t for everyone. But the ones that did get it, loved it. Standing up and clapping at the end. One dude spilled his beer laughing at my bit about a horny bull fucking a fence post. He was the only one laughing at that part at first, but after he went, it spread.
Never did it again lol. Only reason I did it twice was because of how wrung out I was the first time. Anything that terrifying, that mind fucking, I couldn’t run away from. It’s one of those things where I had to do it again so that I knew I could rather than saying that I just didn’t have fun the first time, and didn’t do well, so it wasn’t worth doing again. I was finding excuses in my to not do it again, even though I had never originally planned to. I can’t leave shit like that in my head unless it’s a physical risk. My first time tumbling down a trail on a bike because the trail wasn’t meant to be a bike trail was enough. No need to risk paralysis or death when it went wrong, you dig?
But if I didn’t plan on a second open mic night, and my brain is whining about why I shouldn’t go again, that’s a sign of something I can’t leave be. So I had to go again.
What’s the bull joke
Not a joke, per se.
It’s a story.
See, I’m country enough I’ve seen cows fuck more than I’ve fucked.
Y’all may not know this, but a bull will fuck anything. If you’re a bull, the world is your vagina. Small animals, drunk women, drunk men, frat boys that think cow tipping is a thing, cars, a tree stump, a fence post.
You ever hear a bull get a little closer to heaven? They raise a racket.
There is where I do my bull coming impression. Picture in your head a big dude, slightly balding, just a tiny bit chubby, humping a stool on stage making mooing sounds while mimicking orgasm.
Now, that’s a happy bull!
Well, until he runs into a fence post with barbed wire. Then it’s a bit less happy.
And there is where I do the same basic gag, but end up doing a big shocked face, and the moo turns into a mooing screech. I do the bit, fall over on the stage and fake cry while mooing.
Then I start saying, but you know bulls, they’re stubborn.
I stand back up, but stay bent over a little, cupping my junk, and approach the stool by circling around it, then butting it with my head a little before lining up like I’m going to hump it again.
I stop, look at a dude in the front row that’s already busting a gut and ask him if he wants a turn.
Big risk, I know. But the guy plays along and says he isn’t dumb enough to fuck barbed wire. I say, you think the bull is going to share? Bend over, big guy, here I come!
That’s followed by the loudest roaring moo I can pull out, while I charge the end of the stage and do a fall in front of the guy.
So, not a joke really. Just turning a story I tell at parties into an even more over the top stage gag. It’s all about the absurdity of this beefy guy that looks like he has more muscle than brains acting like an idiot in a bit of controlled chaos.
I actually saw a bull mount a fence post that had barbed wire. It ended essentially the same, with a sad bull and a goofy bastard laughing. Like in the gag, the bull came around for another pass, but it veered at the last second.
It’s one of those things that kills in person at a party because you can use a couch, the host, a table, a lamp, whatever. You turn a fairly dumb story into a spectacle, and because you can change up exactly how you deliver it, nobody knows how it’s going to play out.
Making it work on stage though, that was a little scary. You’ve got the mic making the sounds louder and more tinny. You don’t know the audience, so you might end up with a bunch of people that aren’t really looking to laugh, they’re looking more for something to laugh at. But that dude in front, he was fucking gold. He got the bit, he was all in on it by the time I started making hooves with my hands and mooing, before I approaches the stool.
I paid his tab lol. I doubt i would have gotten crickets, the bit is ridiculous enough someone would have laughed a little. But him just rolling with the absurdity and enjoying it carried over to the majority of the room.
this is an awesome story, thanks for sharing :)
“Kid’s an incredible actor. It looks like he’s legitimately having a panic attack on stage. I need his agent’s number”
Reminds me of Tommy Cooper dying on stage live on television and people thinking it was part of the act and laughing super hard.
That was actually my inspiration. It haunts me frequently, the idea of being so utterly alone in a group of people.
It’s deeply dark and deeply funny. A fitting final act for a man who built his career on that style of comedy. I’m sure he would think so anyway.
God I hadn’t thought about it that way. Scroobius pip wrote “Tommy c” about it, which has a really positive spin, so I always thought about that angle.
There’s more than one given angle to any one given scene
“I tried making a self deprecating joke but it just elicited more laughter” what
- at my own expense
self deprecating humor is supposed garner laughs by exposing relatable vulnerabilities that people can laugh about. It is not supposed to actually make you a loser everyone is just laughing at.
I couldn’t do self-deprecating jokes because I hear audiences don’t like it when comedians punch down.
I’ve always loved self-deprecating jokes, I’m just not very good at them.
have you tried just telling the truth
I keep trying, but I always fail.
Woosh
I want to point out what’s going on here but can’t seem to make it about how stupid I am.
Send us some pics from up there, ok.
Howie Mandel origin story?
