Turns out the only thing I needed to get active, happy and feel appreciated was a good night of making an entire room erupt in laughter. Did I say entire room? 80/20 with the remaining 20% wanted to crucify me. But I'm considering last week a victory. Allow me to explain.
Among Morning's various social circles is an overly friendly group of anarchists/activists/artists known as The Salon. Once a month, the group of 40 to 50 or so meet for a free-wielding share session that includes poetry, personal testimonials and acoustic guitar...it is weird. Somewhere in-between hangout sessions at her "art exhibition," Morning suggested I do some standup as the group had never really had a comedian in their midst.
"What's my time limit?" I asked.
"Unlimited."
"Can I invite people?"
"Sure!"
"Can I invite other comedians to perform?"
"Of course!"
And with that, I was booked for my first showcase. Sure, there wasn't a stage...or a mic, but it was a crowded room full of strangers willing to hear me talk and my compatriots were game to show off their skills so I'm just going to consider it damn showcase. I worked ferociously the week of; carefully cobbling pieces of old sets and new observations into a fun, connected and morosely honest package. I played to my strengths i.e. elaborate, animated storytelling with me as the butt of nearly every joke. I threw in a few gentle ribs at the expense of the kind of people I'd expect at this gathering (privileged white kids who are into veganism because it pisses off their parents), but nothing too harsh as I didn't want to alienate my audience entirely.
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| The usual lineup... |
To guarantee I'll have a good time regardless, I invited some of my favorite, still-hungry funny people to flex their funny bones in front of a willing public. Ben, a youthful doughy-faced Brit with the coarse wit of a young Ricky Gervais was among the first I invited, if for no other reason than he was always game for anything. I then invited Blair and Girl-Sam both of whom I assumed would have other obligations but could make a sailor blush with the amount of detailed sexual content in their sets.To my surprise, they both said yes. The longest shot was Guy-Sam whom I haven't seen in a bit and has the tendency to be flaky. He also, to my surprise, RSVP'd and I immediately got excited as I love the way his mind works off-the-cuff. Finally there was Sal, an unabashed rebel-rouser with the overall demeanor of someone who has seen Fight Club one too many times. Moe than most, Sal uses comedy to make sense of his personal demons so regardless of whether he bombs or kills, it's always interesting.
They all showed up! Every single one of them. Then, ten minutes into the event they all looked at me with looks of panic, confusion and anger. "What the hell is this?" they probably wondered.
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| Visual representation of our audience... |
"It's an art installation that brings focus to the problem of food wastage in a post-scarcity world.
"Who are these people?" Blair interjected.
The Salon are a group of anarchists and other concerned direct-action-type people who invited us to share some of our comedy."
"I don't know if this crowd will be receptive to my stuff," said Guy-Sam.
"It'll be fine, I responded."
The entire group sat in an oval of chairs. The comics sat impatiently clustered in the lower arc, waiting for something to happen. One of the organizers began strumming an acoustic guitar and played one of his originals to the enjoyment of the crowd. Girl-Sam looked like she was about to kill me.
"This is your kind of crowd," I said defensively.
"This is not my kind of crowd," retorted Girl-Sam.
After the final chord was struck on the guitar, a black man (I mention his race because he was one of two) stood up. He introduced himself and said he had some poetry he'd like to share. Sal shifted in his chair. Ben formed his face into a half-hearted smile as the would-be poet began his piece. He started and stopped, checking his phone for the words as he stumbled through. I couldn't tell you for the life of me what it was about, but I remember liking the rhythm and the placement of his words. His choppy delivery and the crowds willing acceptance of what he had to say, gave me the confidence to shoot up my hand next and say, "I'd like to go." I was to set the tone for the comics in the room.
I started with an introduction, thanking The Salon for inviting me and musing that they had never had standup performed which, "after tonight, you'll likely not have standup again." Then I got into my set.
The set-list went thusly:
Pilsen
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Pretend Adult
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Dumpster Turkey
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Fast Food Subway
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Weight Loss Monologue
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Job
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Male Orgasmic Disorder
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Best Orgasm Ever
I'm not going to go into detail on what all those tags mean. I'll just say that it's abundantly evident that I get more personal and more sexually explicit as it wears on. The crowd erupted in laughter in nearly every spot I wanted, guffawing only when I got close to the line. I ad-libbed to get them back on my side before flummoxing them with yet another story of how profoundly dumb I could be. "I only found out recently that O'Douls is non-alcoholic...so you're telling me all the shitty things I did in college was just my personality?" Giggles.
I climaxed (giggle) telling the story of my most rewarding sexual experience in years which had a young couple on the other side of the oval nearly rolling on the floor. I had never done the bit to completion before so it was fresh to the comics as well as the audience. I couldn't see the comics as they were seated behind me, so I couldn't see if they were laughing aat the jokes or the audiences' reaction to them. Still, they were laughing.
I sat down after announcing my name and thanking the audience. My on-stage personality swooped back and nested in my frontal cortex as I await judgment. According to the Salon rules, anyone can ask questions or make comments so there was no escaping immediate criticism.
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| I do not approve of your word choices. |
"Where can we see you perform?" said someone enthusiastically. I was not ready for such a flattering question.
"Well, I perform mics althroughout the city but I've been doing this less than a year so I don't really perform anywhere."
The group murmured to each other.
"You should really put a trigger warning at the beginning." finally said a young woman coldly. She was wearing a beanie and thick-framed glasses; staring with the indigence of someone who had just discovered bacon was planted in her humus.
I sheepishly nodded in agreement allowing Sal to rush to my defense like I was a fallen soldier. "He actually did give a trigger warning. He said it."
It's true - I did but because it was an ad-lib I hardly remembered it.
It's my belief that part of a comedian's job - one of their most important societal functions is investigating "the line". Going to the border of what's deemed socially acceptable, examining it, holding it for all to see and - if it's untenable, pushing that line to a level that makes more sense. It's a comparatively small and even stupid function when you really think about it. But one can't help but think George Carlin's examination of "7 Words you Can't say on TV" or Lenny Bruce's "How to Talk Dirty" has a tiny bit of influence determining how much we can do in public and private spaces today. In that regard, nothing should be off limits for examination.
It was in that spirit Blair went up next and talked frankly about religion and sex which coaxed some in the audience to quietly leave the room. While I can understand how my set was not for everyone, I couldn't help but read into the motives of those leaving the room during Blair's set. "who the hell do these people think they are." I thought. "I can talk about ejaculate with impunity but Blair's monologue about trying to be a sugarbaby was beyond the pail? What kind of sexism is this?" In retrospect, it was probably more the lack of surprise; the knowledge that as she was a comedian and my friend, her set would be offensive, therefore people walked out beforehand instead of shifting uncomfortably in their seats wondering if the third person to go would notice. She was probably tenth person to go and we had a long break just after my set so the group could recollect the pearls they had clutched. People were getting wary of us.
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| "Meh, I'm Ben, and I'll make friends with anybody" |
Ben went not long afterward with his only offense being his salty language. He spoke of growing up in England for the most part - an innocuous enough topic if not for the occasional foray into ghetto tropes. Afterwards the comedians gathered outside; Ben gabbing with a new friend about ye ol' country. He'll make friends with anyone. The break once again split the room into various camps with the comedians smoking and toking it up outside. I abstained. Blair left allowing Girl-Sam to chicken out. "I got a bus to catch," she said as she sheepishly sauntered off down the avenue. Guy-Sam was also ready to call it quits but stayed to hear some more songs and poetry. Sal commented that this was probably the most Chicago thing he'd ever done and was game to take on the room. Morning told me to tell the rest to tread lightly - Sal was not about to listen.
When Sal went up with Me, Ben and Guy-Sam spaced around the room, he changed the format up into a dialogue. He peered snidely into the lamb-like eyes of the people in front of him and asked them questions in bad-faith. "When is it okay to do WWII jokes?" he started. I instinctually crouched down under the snack table as if questioning the crowds ability to discern object permanence. He went into a his spiel about living with mental disorders and growing up in a non-traditional household all the while poking the bear Blair and I had to thoroughly poked. Morning got combative with him in front of the crowd, as did the girl with the beanie. It was...very awkward.
I don't try to offend with my comedy. I try hard to not punch down and color controversial topics with a personal perspective as to make me the butt of the joke. It's my personal belief that purposely trying to offend your audience is comparable to punting the soccer ball with the tip of your foot - sure, you're still technically playing the game, but you're being disruptive while accomplishing nothing. Plus you're screwing the rest of the players on the field. Anyone following some jackass who doubled down on a rape joke can attest it's an impossibly loaded situation in which nothing is actually gained.
It's also lazy when you understand why people get offended. They get offended because they care. And people actually care a heck of a lot about all sorts of things. Comedians bemoan the fact that audiences are more sensitive without really analyzing why they're so sensitive - they're more engaged. People, especially young people care more about their politics, their race, their faith, their sexual identity, their abilities and whatever the hell else more than ever. The reason for this has to do with oppression and their own agency within an oppressive system. They feel more empowered than in the past to complain when they see injustice partially because some (not all) tools of oppression have been limited to the point where they can at least talk about it, and partially because more and more people are dissatisfied with the way society is functioning as a whole.
Now do I think telling a comedian they should have a trigger warning is the best way to go about addressing social change? Probably not. I'd say that tact on the level of goal accomplishment is right below a reclaimed food art exhibit. Though in fairness to my interlocutors at The Salon I was in their space, not in the comfort of a no-hold-bard comedy club where audiences are self-selecting. And while I can claim ignorance on the type of forum it was, I do acknowledge that not all my comedic goals were met.
And what are my comedic goals? Well, I made people laugh - consistently which is huge for me. I am very proud of that fact and no amount of heady discussions on comedy and offense is going to change that. But it is my personal belief that humor is an important tool that can enlighten just as well as it can harm. It is my desire to use comedy wisely; to bring comfort and healing to those who need it while bringing righteous anger to the people and systems who deserve it.
In that regard I could have done a lot better. Oh well, back to the drawing board.
