HOW TO GET STARTED IN STAND-UP
When I was a kid, I was interested in stand-up. I grew up in the 70s and came of age in the 80s. It was a good time for stand-up. Many of the old-timers, the great ones from comedy's golden era, were still around - like Jackie Gleason, George Burns, and Bob Hope. Jerry Lewis had his telethon. The 60s had ushered in a new generation of comics, including Bill Cosby, Redd Foxx, Bob Newhart, Flip Wilson, Robert Klein, etc. Johnny Carson had become America's favorite host.
There were were comics, who started in the 60s, who blew up in the 70s - including George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Woody Allen, etc. My father pushed Jerry Lewis on me, hoping to share a favorite from his era, but my early favorites were George Carlin and Woody Allen. I was a nerdy kid and I found myself dazzled by Carlin's wordplay and Allen's intellect. It was a time of Mad Magazine, Monty Python and SNL. I didn't yet understand the genius of Andy Kaufman but I was blown away by the absurdism of Steve Martin and Robin Williams.
I came of age, in the 80s, at the height of the comedy clubs. As Gen-X, we were enthralled by David Letterman who was only superficially as genteel as Carson. We loved the bite of his sarcasm. I was a big fan of SCTV. As SNL went into a new set of alumni, we were taken with Eddie Murphy. I loved Rodney Dangerfield, Sam Kinison, Billy Crystal and Steven Wright. Jerry Seinfeld came up on my radar, as he would on everybody else's by the 90s. One comic I sadly missed was Bill Hicks, who was so far ahead of his time.
But my career in comedy never happened. Afraid to tell my family I was into this, I searched for a more conventional path and went to law school. While Bill Burr was paying his dues and becoming great, I was hiding out in a quiet world that bored me to death. When my mom died of cancer, it was a major upheaval in my life. Hoping to find more satisfaction, I turned to teaching, which I would do for the next two decades. Teaching was fun, like having a jury trial every day, but it didn't pay much and I still felt like I was turning my back on my dreams.
So, on August 6, 2013 - 68 years after they dropped Fat Man on Nagasaki - I crossed the line between the audience and the stage. Shaking like a leaf, I got up and told five minutes of jokes, off a list in my hand. It was exciting. It was fun. It was addicting. Each week, I came back with more jokes, and met more comics, and found out about more places to do comedy. Once I started doing this, there was no chance I would ever stop.
There were were comics, who started in the 60s, who blew up in the 70s - including George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Woody Allen, etc. My father pushed Jerry Lewis on me, hoping to share a favorite from his era, but my early favorites were George Carlin and Woody Allen. I was a nerdy kid and I found myself dazzled by Carlin's wordplay and Allen's intellect. It was a time of Mad Magazine, Monty Python and SNL. I didn't yet understand the genius of Andy Kaufman but I was blown away by the absurdism of Steve Martin and Robin Williams.
I came of age, in the 80s, at the height of the comedy clubs. As Gen-X, we were enthralled by David Letterman who was only superficially as genteel as Carson. We loved the bite of his sarcasm. I was a big fan of SCTV. As SNL went into a new set of alumni, we were taken with Eddie Murphy. I loved Rodney Dangerfield, Sam Kinison, Billy Crystal and Steven Wright. Jerry Seinfeld came up on my radar, as he would on everybody else's by the 90s. One comic I sadly missed was Bill Hicks, who was so far ahead of his time.
But my career in comedy never happened. Afraid to tell my family I was into this, I searched for a more conventional path and went to law school. While Bill Burr was paying his dues and becoming great, I was hiding out in a quiet world that bored me to death. When my mom died of cancer, it was a major upheaval in my life. Hoping to find more satisfaction, I turned to teaching, which I would do for the next two decades. Teaching was fun, like having a jury trial every day, but it didn't pay much and I still felt like I was turning my back on my dreams.
So, on August 6, 2013 - 68 years after they dropped Fat Man on Nagasaki - I crossed the line between the audience and the stage. Shaking like a leaf, I got up and told five minutes of jokes, off a list in my hand. It was exciting. It was fun. It was addicting. Each week, I came back with more jokes, and met more comics, and found out about more places to do comedy. Once I started doing this, there was no chance I would ever stop.