* First person account authored by Brian McKim & Traci Skene, but recounting the experience of Brian McKim.

One of my favorite moments of this whole ride was back on March 22. Just after the showcase at Gotham was over.

Rich Vos (from LCS Season I and III) was the comic designated to entertain the crowd while the judges tallied the scores and determined who was to get red envelopes.

After those red envelopes had been handed out, the twenty or so semifinalists– from this evening and and from the showcase two nights earlier– were herded back onstage and introduced to the audience. That’s not the best moment, though.

The evening’s red envelope winners were then marched off the stage and held against the wall, in the dark, near the exit doors, as the audience filed out. Vos was hoveried nearby. He spotted the newly-minted semifinalists– some of whom were dazed, many of whom were exhausted– and seized upon the opportunity to offer some… advice.

“This means nothing!” he said, in a very loud voice. Then he cackled. It’s a Vos specialty– giving voice to your worst fears.

I cracked up.

I laughed especially hard because I suspected he might be right. And I laughed hard because none of the others (to my recollection) laughed! Hadn’t they been thinking the same thing? How could they not? Hadn’t they wondered if this entire ordeal might amount to absolutely nothing when all was said and done? God help any of them if they thought that winning that red envelope would lead to fame and fortune. Hell, I had already imagined several scenarios in which I didn’t even make it to Los Angeles, red envelope or not! From all the anecdotes we had heard through all the previous seasons of the show, I had learned that not only did the envelope contain nothing more than a blank piece of white paper (true!), but it was in no way a guarantee of a spot in L.A.

And while it might eventually lead to a shot on primetime network television, it represented a beginning, not an end. (And, as we eventually see, four of those who flew to the west coast in April and taped the semifinal show ended up not appearing on that show. One’s appearance can, for a multitude of reasons, be “disappeared.”)

Of course, everyone expects his situation to be different. But I took Vos’ advice and internalized it. If you find yourself in a situation that might take you through some sort of wormhole, that might be a crazy shortcut to success, it helps to temper that anxiety with some reality.

We were as stunned as anyone even securing a spot on the evening showcase. Indeed, when planning our trip to NYC for the morning audition, we decided to make a day of it– we reserved a hotel room near Wall St. and we figured we’d retreat to it after our audition, take a nap, then maybe take in a show… do the tourist thing in the evening and then mosey on home the next day.

So much for that plan!

The next day, Traci and I walked from Wall St. to our bus stop at 34th St. and 8th Ave. Walking 3.7 miles through Manhattan was therapeutic after the surreal events of the previous day. (When we were cutting west on 14th St., I got a call from Vos. He congratulated me. I told him what he had said– he didn’t remember saying it… he apologized half-heartedly. I told him no apologies were necessary and that his advice was just what I needed.

* * * * * *

One week later, I got an email from the producers of the show requesting my proposed 4-minute set, in writing. “The sets need to be approved by our NBC Director of Standards and Practices before the Semifinals. Please do not repeat material that you used in your audition or showcase.” The transcript of the set was due in a week.

I wrote back saying that I wasn’t quite sure what I had done in the audition… or the showcase. They replied, “Just do your best.”

So… I did my best.

I worked up a set that I thought would time out to four minutes. I performed it at a couple of local clubs, jiggered it a bit here and there, timed it and then transcribed it. I sent it in well before the deadline.

Weeks earlier, we had made air and hotel reservations to be in Los Angeles (coincidentally around the same time as the seminfinals taping), and we were scheduled to fly out of PHL on the 9th. On April 7, I got an email saying that my set was approved by S & P.

Then, at 3:34 PM on the 8th (just about 24 hours before we were to leave for the airport), I got another email saying that, even though my set had been approved, there were two jokes that had been used in the audition on March 22. I was asked to submit “replacement jokes… by the end of the day, if possible.” Gulp.

Hmmm… The set was pretty well constructed… it had a them of travel running through it. But, the two jokes that were disqualified were the heart and soul of the set. So I had to scrap the entire four minutes and fashion an entirely new one.

Which I did. And I emailed a transcript of that set to the producers by the end of the day.

Fortunately, I had four opportunities to do the set over the next three nights– three times at the Comedy & Magic Club in Hermosa Beach and once at Bruce Fine’s Sunday night room at d’Cache in Toluca Lake. But it wasn’t timing out right… it needed massaging and manipulation… and lots of it.

So, I did it. And got it down pretty well.

And, out of all of that material, only 85 seconds of it made it onto the broadcast. 1 minute and 25 seconds! Well, at least I didn’t blow a whole lot of material on my first TV shot in 17 years.**

* * * * * *

On Sunday, we checked out of the Crowne Plaza LAX and checked into the Glendale Hilton– a day early. The Hilton was the headquarters for the semifinal tapings, Ground Zero for Last Comic Standing, Season 7. Situated atop downtown Glendale, just south of the foothills, and only a short shuttle ride away from the Alex Theatre, the Hilton is a modern, well-appointed and comfortable hotel

The Female Half kept a low profile. (Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be there.)

I checked in with the production assistants, filled out a bunch of forms, got a packet of information about shooting schedules and whatnot and was handed a wad of cash– the per diem… a bit of walking-around money. I was scheduled to meet with Wardrobe the next day. I was instructed to bring any and all “outfits” that I intended to wear– for the interview, for the shoot and a backup. Now, this is strange– I bring my clothes to a bunch of strangers and leave them!

I hustled down there at the appointed time. There was the wardrobe gal and an assistant. They had taken over a function room off of the lobby. In the corner was a makeshift modesty screen– those things that chanteuses dress behind while they talk to the males who visit their dressing rooms.

My clothes were inspected and evaluated for TV-worthiness. I was instructed to change into the suit I would wear during the taping. When I did, I was photographed with a Polaroid camera. At one point, I found myself changing back there with Mike DeStefano. So much for modesty. My clothes, my outfits, checked out and I left them in the care of the wardrobe people. By the time I left, Guy Torry and other comedians had entered and commenced the process I had just gone through. The mood was upbeat.

There was a lot of downtime. A lot of waiting around. The contestants did lot of strolling– to the grocery store, to the liquor store, to the restaurants– and the weather was, for the most part, mild and pleasant. Nobody walks in L.A., goes the song. But, if you billet forty comics at the Glendale Hilton, you end up with the rather odd spectacle of the virtually empty, pedestrian-free Glendale streets populated by three dozen comics wandering in a haze at midday, in clumps of twos and threes, rather like some sort of science fiction film. One morning, I headed north into the Verdugo Mountains and ran the hills (something I did quite frequently when we lived in Burbank).

At any given moment, there might be one or two or maybe six or seven comics reclining in the Hilton lobby. There were forty or so staying there, so it was like some sort of a cross between a festival, a VFW reunion and comedy camp. Again, the mood was upbeat. But there was the odd reality that 37 per cent of us would be finished by Tuesday night at 11 PM. And another three-eighths would be disappointed 24 hours after that. But folks were, for the most part thrilled, I believe, to have reached this point.

It was requested that we block out Monday evening for a party on the hotel’s 19th floor, the top floor. Most, if not all, complied. (Who passes up free booze and tiny quiches and chunks of sweaty cheese? Not us!) It was somewhat disappointing that the liquor was doled out using a ticket system– What!? No open bar?!– but upon reflection (and upon realizing that all the partygoers had easy access to the Hilton’s roof), we concluded that perhaps unfettered access to beer and whiskey might be a bad idea. Ah, but what a view!

By this time, we had all learned what night we were to do battle. (“Are you a Wednesday or a Tuesday?” became a common question.) So we engaged in a mental exercise that was equal parts television casting, chess, mathematics, amateur demographics and pure speculation. Size up the field, see where you might fit in, gauge who the competition might be, ascertain which night he/she is going up and calculate the odds.

* * * * * *

My schedule had me down in the lobby at 9 on Tuesday morning. I was to travel, with Mike Vecchione, via shuttle, accompanied by a “chaperone” to Glendale Studios, where a camera crew would shoot each one of us individually in a darkened and soundproof mini-soundstage. The interview would last 25 minutes, we were told and we’d be reunited with one of our outfits.

The process got a little backed up. So I spent some time chatting with the wardrobe gal and Tom Shillue. We talked about mystery novels and British golfers and BanLon shirts and how to care for and pack clothing when traveling. Tom was done with his interview, he need only wait a bit and he’d be shuttled back to the Hilton.

I was eventually escorted to makeup. I have even skin tone. Or so I was told by the makeup lady. She was ecstatic. My makeup took only a minute or two. And for hours afterward, I was insufferable– “You know, I have very even skin tone!”– it isn’t every day that one learns that one has even skin tone. (I bet she says that to all the comics.)

While waiting– and chatting– with the makeup lady, I learned that she had been swept up into the comedy world. A while back, she did makeup for a comedian’s special and, before she knew it, she was making up a lot of comics. Odd how things like that happen. She would be very shortly flying to New York to work on the no doubt evenly toned skin of… Lewis Black, I believe it was.

Soon a producer entered and began to prep me for the interview. Not sure what good that does… and not sure if it doesn’t do harm. She basically went over the questions with me… or some of them. I am of the opinion that spontaneity is a good thing. Apparently, spontaneity is viewed by television producers as the work of the devil. In situations like this one, it is thought that going over the questions again and again– practicing the answers, if you will– will produce a superior outcome. I am not convinced.

I’m escorted down the hall and led into the soundstage where a fancy LCS logo dominates one corner of the room and, in the center of the background stands the Shure 55 microphone that has become the visual signature of the show. I’m miked (after three attempts) and I take a seat in high director’s chair. In front of me is the crew and a large camera on a dolly. And I am reminded of the snippets of conversation from the previous night’s party. (“It’s weird– the camera moves back and forth and you gotta speak to it as it moves.”) The camera, it is explained to me, is on a dolly track and will slowly move from my right to my left, dragged by a key grip… or a best boy… or a cameraman’s assistant. My interrogator (the producer) will be seated to the far right, just behind the lights and the track. I am to speak to the camera, not to my interviewer. Sure enough, the interview begins and the camera is slowly and carefully dragged, back and forth on a track. The track is maybe seven feet long. I occasionally slip and direct my answer to the producer. We re-take those and try to reconstruct the answer, capture the moment, fake the spontaneity.

Occasionally I violate one of the cardinal rules: Please re-state the question when framing your answer… the better to excise the answer and use it out of context. We won’t be hearing the question, so it is better to start the answer by reusing much of what was contained in the question. This is not a natural way to speak… at least not for me. So it takes some getting used to.

Also: Please refer to the taping as “The Semifinals.” Try to mention “Last Comic Standing,” rather than refer to it as “the show,” or “it.”

I had put a lot of thought into what I would say and how I would say it. Would I play it light? Would I go for pathos? Would I talk about business (standup comedy, entertainment) matters? Would I personalize this experience? Just how much of this will make it to air? Should I keep it short? Go long?

At one point, I decided to play the death card. In response to a question (not sure which one), I decided to go on about how, for a lengthy period, it seemed that an alarming number of people in my family were… dying. And at regular intervals. And that this had the effect of stunting my progress as a comic, of dampening my enthusiasm for standup, of trapping me in a haze that was neither pleasant or productive… and that I was– only relatively recently– emerging from this funk and that I was here because of a renewed enthusiasm for performing and for the business. I had no sooner finished my touching soliloquy when, from out of the darkness, to my right, came the voice of the producer– “Could you say that again, but this time, could you make it shorter?”

They ended up using about seven seconds out of a 25-minute interview.

The rest of the day was free. The first of the two tapings was scheduled for later in the evening. The “Wednesdays” weren’t allowed to attend the taping.

* * * * * *

We had a rental car, so we spent a good chunk of Tuesday driving around the valley, visiting our old friend Burbank and relaxing. It was a classic April day in SoCal. The kind of day that, 22 years earlier, had convinced us to move across the continent and make our home in the San Fernando Valley. The old neighborhood has changed radically since we left it in 1993. It’s always fun to visit it and note the changes. We vow to return to Burbank some day!

* * * * * *

Wednesday’s schedule requested that all the “Wednesdays” congregate in the lobby for the purpose of taping some fun interstitial footage– contestants walking through the lobby as if arriving for the first time, contestants maybe even doing some “schtick” or concocting a short, funny script to be shot in the bar or in the hotel restaurant or at poolside. Ostensibly, all this would be edited and used to add interest to a future broadcast, to break up the performance and interview footage with some lighthearted hijinks. It was rather definitely stated that the segment producers would want to come to our rooms to shoot us. As I had sequestered my lovely wife in my room… and since it was earlier implied that my lovely wife was not really permitted to bunk with me… I wasn’t keen on producers knocking on my door. Amid the chaos in the lobby, I was summoned by a producer who sought to schedule a time when they might come up to the room… and I said, somewhat firmly, that I didn’t want a crew to come up to my room. This, apparently, is not done. The producer’s expression betrayed a a combination of rattled, perplexed and maybe a bit peeved. I was stressed out about the whole affair.

I discussed, with Taylor Williamson, the wisdom of freezing out the producers. He advised me to change course and play ball with them. No, he told me I was wrong. I snapped that was not about to be bullied by Taylor Williamson. (You know you’re stressed out when you snap at Taylor Williamson. Traci made me apologize to him in the lobby as we waited for our shuttles to the Alex.)

Hours later, after dispatching The Female Half to the pool with a book, I relented and called a producer. By this time, however, it was too late… union-mandated breaks, you know. Eventually, there wasn’t enough time in the day. It was a moot point.

* * * * * *

Game time approaches.

I panic. Where is my suit? I eventually tire of waiting for it to be delivered. I go down to wardrobe and recover it myself.

I dress. My wife rejoins me. She remarks that my mood is a strange combination of nervous and disheartened. The night before, we had learned the identities of the five finalists. One of the five was Jonathan Thymius. We reasoned that there was no room for two middle-aged, bespectacled, quirky males. So I was already assuming that I was out of the running. I held out hope, but I was… disheartened. I stated that, if I was chosen to go on first, that I was most definitely not advancing. Her advice: Just make it look bad that they didn’t put you through. In other words: Go out there and kick mighty ass.

It was decided that my lovely wife would be accompanied to the taping by comedian John DiCrosta. Also with them, as our guests in the “VIP section,” would be comedian Dave Smith and erstwhile SHECKYmagazine columnist Adam Gropman. (Semifinalists were allotted four tix.)

As the contestants trickled into the lobby at about six or so, Traci and John left for the Alex. With the sun still nowhere near setting, we were instructed to file out of the lobby and pack into the waiting shuttles and “DON’T LOOK AT THE CAMERAS.” We executed our instructions… flawlessly.

Our motorcade headed down Brand Boulevard and parked on the street at the rear of the theater. “OKAY… exit the van and head up to where the camera crew is, then walk left into the parking lot… and DON’T LOOK AT THE CAMERA… then, there’ll be a big blue tent on your right… there’ll be a camera crew inside… enter the tent and DON’T LOOK AT THE CAMERA.”

Got it.

We exit, we walk. Giant mobile production vans and a trailer dominate our section of the lot. Giant coaxial cables snake under foot. We step over them… we continue walking, we enter the tent. I, of course, look at the camera.

At one end, a large plasma screen. At the other end, a table with food and three giant urns– coffee, decaf and hot water. We enter and begin milling about. We bunch up near the food. And, although I suspect we aren’t all that capable of eating at this point, we nibble. I decide to try choking down some decaf. I fill my cup halfway, turn and– SPLASH– Nick Cobb, who stands about three inches taller than I, has accidentally bumped into me with his… arm? The result: A nice streak of brown decaf coffee down the front of my shirt and on the lapel of my suit jacket. Cobb is horrified and he apologizes profusely. I assure him that I bear him no ill will. These things happen.

I poke my head out of the tent and grab the first person I see who is toting a clipboard– a sure sign of a production assistant. I say, “We have a crisis.” The PA says, “What is it?” I point to my shirt. The PA gets on a the headset and asks someone what to do. I am eventually whisked away– down metal stairs and into a small room that serves as the command center for wardrobe.

Their mission is to find a suitable sub for my cream-colored Liz Claiborne shirt. “I’m a 16-1/2 neck,” I mutter, halfheartedly as I remove my stained shirt. The racks of clothes are scanned and there’s only one garment anywhere near to my shirt in appearance. It turns out to be a cream-colored Liz Claiborne shirt… with an 18-inch neck… and great, flopping French cuffs.

This is no problem for the wardrobe pros. They immediately set about pinning the back of the shirt and shortening the cuffs and securing them with smaller pins. As this is going on, PA Comic Coordinator Jennifer arrives (with clipboard in hand, of course) and states, “Guys, I want to get everyone into makeup in order… so I’m going to need him now.” I process this information and ask, “In order? Does this mean I’m going on first?”

“Yes,” is the answer.

“Are you fucking kidding me? First?” I mutter to no one in particular. “I am fucked,” I sigh, again, to no one in particular.

A half-hour or so later, makeup again gracing my evenly toned skin, I am “placed” in the wings, stage left, standing on thick trunks of wires, amid blinking panels and surrounded by bearded men who talk to invisible people via their headsets. I can see the stage to my right, through a break in the curtains. Directly in front of me, crouching in a small space, is a camera man and a sound man. They ask me more questions… some of which have been asked of me one or more times in the past 48 hours or so… and I answer them. None of this is eventually used in the package, save for five or six seconds of video only. I ask the floor producer if I’ll be able to hear my intro. He assures me that I will and that an assistant will pull back the curtain when it’s time. And there’ll be a steady cam tracking me as I emerge. They’ll be crab-walking backward as I make my way to the mike at center stage.

I hear the thunder of the crowd, as Craig Robinson gets them riled with goofy patter.

The house goes eerily quiet. Then the thunder erupts again. Then I hear my name.

I pull the mike out, place the stand behind me, plant my feet and bark out my set.

85 days later, I get to see how it looked.

* * * * * *

In a way, it’s a good thing to go on first. It’s over. Just like that.

I return to the tent. The other occupants of the tent applaud. Upon entering, I am set upon by another crew. They do the debriefing– “How did you think it went?” “How was the crowd?” And then they follow that up with more of the “How do you think this will affect your career?” questions.

Some of the comics tell me that the set “looked like it went well.” The sound on the plasma screen was turned down. So they could only watch. Eventually the comics turn up the sound. The sound goes up and down all night.

I am summoned to the exterior of the theater, front. For yet another interview. You can guess what they ask. While waiting for the crew to set up for me, I encounter Matt Kirshen (Season 5) strolling up to the theater doors. We chat. He wishes me well. He continues on to the theater.

My interview done, I return to the tent to wait. We applaud for each returning comedy gladiator.

It is a grueling night and it lasts more than five hours. I spend a lot of time just outside the tent. It’s a pleasant evening with a faint whiff of skunk in the air. (Not sure why… I suspect a skunk got hit by a car nearby.)

Eventually, the 21 contestants are herded back into the theater and the dramatic announcements are made, the finalists are revealed. The fortunate ones are segregated from the rest and, along with the previous evening’s finalists are herded back into theater for more shots while the rest of us… wait.

Eventually, I am summoned once again for what will be my final interview. A crew is outside the tent, near the production trailer. They snag a comic once in a while and ask the standard questions. I finally succumb and use their terminology– “OKAY! It’s a comeback! I regard my participation in Last Comic Standing and my appearance on the show as a comeback!” (It’s something that I was strenuously avoiding. But one wonders if maybe resisting the producers’ script works against one’s chances of being included in various packages or interstitial material. Is it wise to try to force one’s own script onto that which has been decreed? Is it worth the struggle? Is it best to merely roll over and go with the flow?)

Since our services are no longer required (and since I am anxious to reunite with my wife), I eventually agitate for a van to take us back to the Hilton. I rile up a sufficient number of like-minded comics and, before long, we are headed to a shuttle, headed north, to the hotel to commiserate and review the evening.

* * * * * *

The lobby is slowly populated with comedians and hangers-on. Not many at first. A half-dozen maybe, but then the pace picks up. The conversation is light and fast, the mood not as somber as one might expect.

We eventually realize that the hotel’s bars are closed. It’s early yet. Shillue announces that he is determined to find a local steakhouse and drown his sorrows in red meat. Others try to ascertain just how far a rumored neighborhood bar might be and if it’s within walking distance. We go upstairs and fetch one a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon and begin offering it to the comics in the immediate area. Many have never partaken of Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey, but are… curious. Some are familiar with Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey and accept our offer without hesitation. We locate plastic cups.

Did you know that you can get Bulleit Bourbon at Trader Joe’s on Sepulveda for only twenty dollars a bottle? Not only that, but you can buy three if you want. Which is precisely what we did before checking out of the Crowne Plaza LAX. Was there ever a more appropriate time to go fetch those other two bottles of Bulleit Bourbon?

We took them over to the closed down bar just off the lobby and commenced to have a Last Comic Standing (Unsanctioned, Unoffical) After-Taping Soiree. Look here– there’s a bunch of glasses just perfect for bourbon behind the bar!

The rest is hazy. Other comedians showed up– Keith Robinson (Philly boy!), Kirshen, Spencer King– some Tuesdays arrive, a lot of Wednesdays are present. Some estimates are that more than 40 people may have been in attendance at the peak. Some folks disappeared briefly and returned with 12-packs of beer. Many folks got the hang of the bourbon thing. There was a plastic bowling set pressed into use. Many photographs were taken. (Some real corkers were taken by Tommy Johnagin, who put them up on his Facebook page… then took them down. Expect them to be up soon, though.) A lot of steam was blown off. This was the culmination of three weeks (or more) of anticipation and anxiety.

Roy Wood, Jr. summed it up nicely in a comment on Johnagin’s photo album on Facebook:

I love how the guy came into the party at 2:50 to remind us that we had to stop drinking at 2. I love it when last call comes 50 minutes late.

Bless the Hilton for not jumping bad with us. It was a splendid few days in sunny California. And, even if it all means nothing, it was fun.

Cope, Johnagin, Mckim, Glendale Hilton, April 14, 2010

** Last television shot: VH-1’s “Fools For Love,” taped at the Comic Strip, 1993.

Hulu has a nifty feature that enables the user to embed the code for any of their videos and select his own custom start point and end point. We did it for The Male Half’s appearance on last night’s Last Comic Standing episode (see below). He comes in at 1:15:36 of the clip and exits at 1:18:42. (Note: The clip is presented with “limited commercial interruption,” so a two-hour episode cooks down to 1:25:43… which means that The Male Half appears with less than ten minutes to go!)

The clip is 3:06 total– that includes the snippet of interview at the beginning, the footage from the wings and the banter with the judges. The actual chunk of standup is only 1:25! That includes the walk-on portion. The actual set was a bit less than twice that length.

Those wishing to view the entire episode can go here or merely click on the timeline below the video to move forward or backward.

Here’s the order of appearance, with the real order of appearance (from the evening’s taping), followed by the number of spots they were moved– up or down– in parentheses:

Roy Wood, Jr. (3, -2)
Fortune Feimster (4, -2)
Jerry Rocha (2, +1)
Guy Torry (12, -8)
Jacob Sirof (13, -8)
Nikki Glaser (14, -8)
Taylor Williamson (17, -10)
Nick Cobb (15, -7)
Mike Vecchione (11, -2)
Cristela Alonzo (9, +1)
Kurt Metzger (5, +6)
Laurie Kilmartin (6, +6)
Tommy Johnagin (7, +6)
Claudia Cogan (18, -4)
Maronzio Vance (10, +5)
Jason Nash (16, 0)
James Adomian (8, +9)
Carmen Lynch (20, -2)
Brian McKim (1, +18)

Not sure what to make of these figures, but it demonstrates just how much energy is devoted to manipulating the actual event to create drama. Having experienced it (from the standpoints of a performer and an audience member), our brains were scrambled while watching the final edit. And it was quite nerve-wracking when, with only about 12 minutes to go in the broadcast (and only two comics left), The Male Half hadn’t yet appeared. (Indeed, the only reason we weren’t totally freaked is because we spotted The Male Half for a half-second in the opening montage of performers striding to the microphone onstage at the Alex.)

Our anxiety is nothing, however, compared to what must be the despair of those comics who taped at the Alex but didn’t appear in the finished product– Stuckey & Murray and Joe List last week, Tom Shillue and David Cope this week. To go through that stressful evening (Shillue went on 17th, Cope went on dead last at 21st), only to be excised from the final edit must be devastating.

* * * *

But how did the show do in the ratings? According to website TV By The Numbers, “Last Comic Standing was the original broadcast standout on the night, the only show to increase vs. last week. It’s 1.8 rating was up 13 per cent compared to last Monday.” And, while it didn’t win its timeslot, it did get stronger as the night wore on (and as Fox went local at 10 PM), eventually gathering nearly 5 million pairs of eyeballs in the “Live + SD” figure.

That’s viewers who watch live plus those who view it on the same day, time-shifted. It’s a brave new world out there, and Nielsen Co. is accommodating the changes in technology. Here’s their explanation for how they calculate watchers in the era of Tivo and Windows Media Center and Hulu:

Time Shifted Viewing – Program ratings for national sources are produced in three streams of data – Live, Live+Same Day (Live+SD) and Live+7 Day. Time shifted figures account for incremental viewing that takes place with DVRs. Live+Same Day (Live+SD) include viewing during the same broadcast day as the original telecast, with a cut-off of 3:00AM local time when meters transmit daily viewing to Nielsen for processing. Live+7 Day ratings include incremental viewing that takes place during the 7 days following a telecast.

Got that?

We figure LCS has a pretty healthy Live + 7 Day number. We’ve been monitoring Twitter and Facebook and personal emails and we notice that a lot of people are making a point of watching the show– one way or another– and are catching it in various ways in the days/weeks after the episodes originally air. This is a change from even just two years ago, when LCS was last broadcast. Back then, Tivo (described in the trades as a “DVR maker”) had about 3-1/2 million subscribers. Considering that only 1 per cent of Americans use Tivo (and that number is shrinking), they’ve done a masterful job of turning their brand into a commonly used verb. We suspect that a good number of viewers use Hulu and that there are probably surprisingly high numbers of people who use a good ol’ fashioned VCR to bend the TV schedule to their will. Here at SHECKYmagazine HQ, we’ve got a laptop with Windows Vista using a Happauge TV tuner and Window Media Center… like Tivo, but without the intrusive pestering and suggestions. We suspect that a lot of Tivo’s erosion might have something to do with folks getting rid of their landline, which is a prerequisite for using the service (unless you’re one of the microscopic slice of Americans who knows how to muck around with a wireless router… and you believe the Tivo tech people when they tell you that a landline isn’t necessary.)

Perhaps the classiest response/reaction to the airing comes from Guy Torry, who posted the following as his Facebook status:

I make NO excuses, “Last Comic Standing”, NOT my finest hour. For my fans who know how I get down, sorry if I let you down, for those who I may have lost, thanks for the support. What doesn’t kill you makes you funnier! Keep supporting LCS!

Torry valiantly attempted to turn his brief Alex set into a mini-HBO special. He placed the mike stand far away, he staked out vast swaths of the stage and swept the crowd, top to bottom, side to side. But it just didn’t work. He didn’t connect. And, of course, he knew it wasn’t working. Yet, he still had to stand up there and endure the critique from the judges. Some folks take it, some folks get somewhat defensive. Torry went on defense. And the producers chose to put the spectacle in the fourth slot in the lineup.

It says a lot about Torry that he makes no excuses and that he urges all to “keep supporting LCS.” It is entirely in keeping with what appears to be his normal modus operandi. He could have toned down his larger than life persona, he could have altered his delivery and his material and shoehorned it into the tiny time allotment. He did none of those things. And so, it is entirely understandable that he wouldn’t merely lay low after Monday’s airing or trash the show.

And, yes, Jacob Sirof did follow him in “real life.” His opening “Well, that was awkward,” was the best (and, perhaps the only) thing he could have done to break the tension. And it demonstrates the value of paying attention to the act that goes on just before you do.

As we mentioned in an earlier post, the evening was a long one– six hours plus– for both performers and the folks in the crowd. (Fortunately, The Female Half was accompanied by John DiCrosta, David Smith and Adam Gropman— two-thirds of which got some primetime facetime… we might try to freeze frame it and see if Gropman’s mug made it onto the broadcast.)

Some people say the show is “rigged” or “fixed.” This is a rather harsh assessment and one that betrays a certain ignorance or naiveté when it comes to the reality of reality TV. To be sure, the show is “cast,” but who is shocked or outraged by this fact?

Before the taping of the second semifinal show even started, we strongly suspected that The Male Half was screwed by virtue of the previous evening’s pick of Jonathan Thymius and that Mike Vechhione was screwed when the judges chose Mike DeStefano. We also calculated that Roy Wood, Jr. was a shoo-in once Kyle Grooms was passed over. (Also figuring that either Maronzio Vance or Guy Torry might possibly be in the running for a second “comic of color” spot… and that, once Torry flamed out, it was probably going to go to Vance.) And, as there was only one female comic chosen on Night One, we were certain that at least one female comic would get through to the finals from Night Two… and that Laurie Kilmartin was the favorite. That left two “White Male Spots” up for grabs on Night Two– and twelve White Males battling it out for them. (And, since The Male Half and Vecchione were cancelled out by Thymius and DeStefano respectively, it was really only ten who were in contention.) Johnagin and Adomian were handed the seventh and eighth spots in the evening’s lineup respectively– sweet spots, no matter how long the lineup is– so it was theirs to lose. And they came through. Putting Metzger fifth may have meant that he was “on the bubble,” and that, were either Johnagin or Adomian to flame out, he would take one of their spots. The Male Half, in a conversation with the Female Half, prior to boarding the shuttles to the theater predicted that, a show containing that many comics would cause spots 15 through 18 to be “death spots.” As it turns out, he was right. The crowd was tired, rammy and anxious. Those comics who went up during that stretch had to work a lot harder than those who came before or after.

Which is not to say that the folks who reached the finals didn’t deserve it or didn’t rise to the occasion. But the scenario was rather skillfully concocted to achieve one of several desired outcomes. And those who advanced did so by most certainly rising to the occasion. Just because some of the choices may have been predictable does not indicate anything close to rigging or fixing. And it doesn’t take away from the accomplishments of those who landed in the top ten. There are only so many spots. So it is understandable that great care must be taken to exercise a minimum of control over the makeup of the comics who occupy them and that a great amount of consideration must be accorded to demographics. (Let’s face it: They could have just picked names out of a hat. But no set of ten would have made everyone happy. And there has to be some manipulation by the producers.)

It was 72 hours of extreme stress, a diabolically varied schedule with physical and mental hurdles along the way and tremendous highs and lows. Anyone who gets through it without turning into a gibbering idiot can be proud of the achievement.

Stay tuned for the Male Half’s first-person account of the ordeal.

Well, we can’t say anything until the episode runs on the West Coast. And that won’t be over until 2 AM our time. And we gotta get up early to run. Because it’s going to be 80 degrees (with 69 per cent humidity) by 8 AM! And then, it’ll go up to 100 degrees by 2 PM.

So… when we’re done running, we’ll probably come back here and eat breakfast.

And then we’ll probably collapse– in other words, take a nap– for an hour or two. Then, we’ll fire up the AC and the box fans and the Gateway mainframe and the ol’ WordPress dashboard and we’ll crank out a thousand or so words about the episode.

Hope you can make time for it. We’ll try to download some of Tommy Johnagin‘s pictures of the Bulleit Bourbon-fueled after-party we sponsored at the Hilton after that night’s semifinal show, so there’s that.

We interrupt this holiday weekend to bring you all back down to reality… reality television, that is.

The Male Half is on primetime network television tonight. This is the second night of semifinal madness at the Alex Theatre, taped April 14. Eight-two days later it arrives on our screen, diced, sliced, fused, melded and shaped into a two-hour episode which documents the crowning of five more Finalists.

There will no doubt be some time-shifting.

From LCS

We will be back later on to provide our impressions– The Male Half as performer, The Female Half as audience member during the grueling five-hour taping.

Below is a photo of the “green room” (a large tent-like structure in the Alex parking lot), stitched together from three separate photos. To the left is the monitor. Two crews each conducted an interview simultaneously, at all times. Twenty-one comics arrived, went into makeup, waited, assembled backstage in clumps of five or so. Each then went on, did their thing, interacted with the judges, exited, returned to the tent, submitted to an exit interview, then was held captive while the process dragged on through all 21. (Check out the large-size panorama– and other pics– by clicking on the album link at the bottom of the pic.)

From LCS

The Male Half went on first. Here’s the (real) order from that night:

The Male Half
Jerry Rocha
Roy Wood, Jr.
Fortune Feimster
Kurt Metzger
Laurie Kilmartin
Tommy Johnagin
James Adomian
Cristela Alonzo
Maronzio Vance
Mike Vecchione
Guy Torry
Jacob Sirof
Nikki Glaser
Nick Cobb
Jason Nash
Tom Shillue
Claudia Cogan
Taylor Williamson
Carmen Lynch
David Cope

Have fun following along at home.

The blogger is Scott Wampler. Who’s he?

He’s a blogger for a website called examiner.com. One of his recent pieces, his post-mortem on the first episode of Season 7 of Last Comic Standing, he said:

I know firsthand how brutal, competitive, and political the standup world is: make no mistake, the people that get anywhere on this show are out for blood, and the drama behind-the-scenes has to rival the stunning backstabbery of Survivor’s most evil players.

Did he say, “firsthand?” Yes, he did. (According to his Examiner.com bio, “a stand-up comic, humor writer, and man of constant sorrow from Dallas, TX. He has performed all over Texas and is a regular at the Dallas Improv.”) But anyone who participated in the auditions in NYC or LA would probably laugh in your face if you tried to imply that the atmosphere in either of those situations contained any “stunning backstabbery.”

So… we’re not dealing with someone who has any deep knowledge of comedians or what makes them tick.

But he’s determined to hold forth on every aspect of Last Comic Standing, Season Seven.

And now Wampler has posted “Exclusive scandal news: Did ‘Last Comic Standing’ hopeful Jason Weems steal another comic’s joke?”— an investigation into whether or not Jason Weems’ Magic Johnson/AIDS joke was stolen from an Orlando-based comic Jeanette Cause.

Here are the facts:

Weems did a bit about Magic Johnson on LCS on June 21.

Weems finds out that a comic in Orlando is doing a simliar bit.

Weems wrote a “dickish” private Facebook message to Cause, telling Cause to quit doing the joke.

Cause goes public with the message.

Wampler facilitates a brawl and, on top of that, invites readers to weigh in on whether or not Weems stole the joke, offering “evidence”– video of each comic doing the material.

Wampler interviews Cause.

Firstly: Weems was a dumbass for writing the email. Or, at the very least, he shouldn’t have taken such a combative tone. There’s nothing wrong with informing another comic that you do a similar bit… if for no other reason than you don’t want either him or you getting tagged with the “thief” label. There’s not need to fling around accusations of thievery.

Secondly: Wampler is a schmuck for framing this “scandal” in the way he has. There’s really not much of a scandal here, as we will explain. We suspect that Wampler is so convinced that comics are “out for blood,” that this kind of melodrama was too irresistible to pass up.

Thirdly: Cause is a nitwit for engaging in ridiculous conspiracy theorizing. (Perhaps we’re being too harsh… she is, after all, primarily an “actress who’s done some comedic things.”) But one thing she might eventually learn is that comics quite often come up with the same joke without any thievery involved.

Face it, people– the joke’s not so wickedly original that three people couldn’t come up with it simultaneously.

In the caption, under Weems’ photo, Wampler asks, “Did Last Comic Standing contestant Jason Weems steal one of his best jokes?” (Of course, it makes for a better story if this turns out to be one of Weems’ “best jokes.” Such speculation is tawdry.) Well, we have only seen about 75 seconds of Weem’s material… there’s really no way to determine if that is indeed one of Weems’ best jokes. And anyone who saw the joke– anyone with any experience– would probably not conclude that it is… and, for Weems’ sake, we hope that it isn’t.

Not that the joke isn’t funny, but, when we saw it, we didn’t exactly jump out of our seats. And, hours later, a comedian from New Jersey updated his Facebook status to say (and we paraphrase), “Damn! I just saw somebody do my Magic Johnson/AIDS bit on Last Comic Standing!” His tone wasn’t accusatory… he was merely resigned to the fact that someone beat him to national television with the joke. And, of course, were he to do the bit again, he would forever be dogged by that fact.

This happens all the time. Call it parallel development. Call it what you will. Comedians will, on occasion, simultaneously come up with the same joke, even when separated by an entire continent.

But this is way out of hand. Wampler even asks the “victim” if she might consider suing LCS if Weems manages to win the prize money. Unbelievable.

This entire incident should have gone down like this:

Weems writes the stupid and combative Facebook message.

Cause writes back, “Hey, douchebag, I’ve been doing the bit since July.”

Weems shuts his yap and apologizes.

No one ever hears about this whole sorry incident.

Instead, we have an embarrassingly naive investo, written by an inexperienced comedian, who condemns a professional comic for thievery, egged on by an actress/part-time comedian who, ultimately, is in it for the money and the publicity.

JC: Well, I know it’s a big deal, [it’s] taboo in the stand-up world. He even says that. I imagine that a show that offers a $250,000 prize and a development deal isn’t going to want to award that to someone that could then be sued by a third party for stealing their material that helped win them that prize, that it wasn’t the property of the winner — and, therefore, the show. That’s why it oughtta be a big deal to him. And for me, it’s a big deal because …well, something doesn’t add up. He knew who I was, how to get in contact with me, and just the way he approached it with me? It stinks. That might get him far in the competition, but let’s say he wins. What if that joke helped get him there? If it was his, great, but it seems like it came from me, and that means that he shouldn’t be able to win.

We hope everyone is happy. We warned folks about this when the first Youtube Comedy Wars broke out a couple years back. There is no shortage of people out there who are willing to believe that we’re all just a bunch of thieving, unoriginal hacks. And there are people who are ignorant of just how the creative process works and who are willing to believe that two comics (or in this case three comics!) coming up with the same joke is evidence of just how totally unoriginal comedians are (and just how corrupt and unjust NBC’s Last Comic Standing might be). Job well done.

Doug Hecox, D.C.-based comedian and former SHECKYmagazine columnist, camped out in New York to audition for Last Comic Standing. He wrote about his experience. You can read it here.

But first, an excerpt:

By 12:30 p.m., the line had begun to inch forward and, by 1:30, I was inside the club en route to my audition. Though each comedian was to do two minutes of material in front of the judges and the cameras, producers were screening out those who had no business being there. They wanted each performer to do 60 seconds’ worth of material, from which they would pass judgment about whether you deserved to move on to perform two minutes for the judges.

I was ushered into what appeared to be a storeroom, which had three office desks. It was a tight fit. At each desk was a producer, and I was invited to begin. After my little bit about Halloween costumes, almost exactly 60 seconds in length, the producers were laughing. One said “Ok, I think you’re funny. Congratulations” and gave me a little green slip of paper – they called it a “green card”– which I was asked to take to one of the other producers upstairs so I could wait before performing for the celebrity judges and the cameras. Most of my line-standing counterparts hadn’t earned a green card and were already gone.

Read the whole thing!

Episode 4, Season 7 of NBC’s Last Comic Standing aired tonight. We were featured prominently. We are trying to assess what kind of impact our appearance may have had. And watching the footage has jiggled some memories loose. Here is our lengthy recounting of the audition/showcase process and the events leading up to it.

Somehow or another, Both Halves of the Staff ended up with appointments to audition for Last Comic Standing.

Did we say “somehow or another?” Yes, we did. The sequence of events is blurry.

One minute, we were corresponding with the show’s producers, via email. They were keen on getting the information out about their New York and Los Angeles tryouts.

A few weeks later, we were headed north on the New Jersey Turnpike, onboard a BoltBus bound for Manhattan on a dreary Monday morning in March.

We were dazed, exhausted and filled with a vague sense of dread.

At one point, when we were disembarking onto a chilly, rainy W. 34th St., it occurred to us that this feeling that had come over us was familiar… it was as though we were headed to… a funeral.

Many, if not all, of the symptoms were there: We had that 1,000-yard stare and that bone-deep fatigue that hits you in the days or weeks immediately following a death.  We were all too familiar with it:  To get by, you put one foot in front of the other, you pine for a long, uninterrupted nap, you assure yourself that sun and warmth and hope is just around the corner.

For the twelve weeks leading up to this moment, we had worked a wicked schedule that saw us travel, by car and/or plane and car to Newport News, Boston, Springfield, IL, Minneapolis, Richmond, VA, Asheville, Atlanta and Charlotte, among other locations. (Mind you, we aren’t complaining.)

And in that span of time, several other things happened:  The Female Half fractured her medial head (that’s “elbow” for the laymen), The Male Half underwent outpatient surgery, both halves dug out of several major Northeast snowstorms and The Female Half got a wicked, historical head cold.

Schedules like the one listed above are normally somewhat tiring. But when you throw in healing, shovelling, fighting off infection, pain killers and anxiety… things get a little weird.

And somewhere in there, we found ourselves on the cellphone with the show’s producers, while hurtling down the highway– on the way to one of those many road gigs– nailing down the times and dates and details, while Maryland whizzed by at 65 mph, for what seemed a far off date in the future, to audition in NYC at Gotham… for Last Comic Standing.

Now, on this Monday in late March, that date had finally arrived. And, as we stumbled out onto the street, the light drizzle forced us to open our umbrellas and catch a cab south.

Ninety minutes earlier, we fleetingly considered turning the car around and heading back home– trashing the whole notion of heading north on the bus. The fatigue– and our natural skepticism– had us thinking that we might be walking into a trap. For years, we had publishied several thousand words about just how awful Last Comic Standing was and we were dumbfounded at the idea that this new regime of producers might be genuinely pleased that we saw fit to audition for the newest iteration of the show, the seventh season. Surely, our paranoid brains concluded, their intentions were not all good. Indeed, they might be hard-bitten TV-types of the worst kind, eager to lure us up to the Big Apple with promises of fame and fortune, only to strike us down in the harshest way, using editing and sound effects and cunning. Surely no one who had read our past assessments of the show could find it in their hearts (if they indeed had such an organ) to treat us with fairness or dignity. It came over us in short, regular, chilling wavelets that we
might be two of the biggest saps in all of show business for consenting to be part of the show that we had for so long decried as evil.

Or… perhaps they just wanted us to sign the Non Disclosure Agreement. Once the ink was dry on our signature (an instantaneous matter when it comes to ballpoint pens!), they’d bum’s rush us out onto 23rd St., secure in the knowledge that they had tacked down our silence… legally.

But when this lazy Susan of suspicion spun around and around, one thing would rotate through our consciousness: The new producers has secured the services of Andy Kindler as one of the judges. If they were truly evil, why ever would they enlist Kindler? And, if Kindler were to consent to be a judge in this whole affair, how likely is it that he would compromise his public persona and demolish everything he had stood for in his twenty or so years in the business?

Let’s be real here: Kindler might be second only to us in terms of people who have voiced extreme displeasure with the way the show has gone in its first six seasons.

His State of the Industry Address at the Just For Laughs Festival frequently touched on just how corrosive LCS was, in his opinion, to standup comedy.

But when we heard that Kindler was signed as a judge, our position shifted.

In our discussions– between the time we had obtained an audition appointment and the time we heard that Kindler would be a judge– we were totally willing to back out, to let the appointment go to someone else, to let the opportunity pass.

Upon hearing that Kindler was in, however, we went from 20/80 to 80/20.

But, in our exhausted state, we weren’t 100 per cent sure that we were doing the right thing.

We arrived at Gotham and were immediately greeted by one of the many production assistants (PA’s) that are an integral part of the huge undertaking that is shooting a network television show. We parked our backpacks and immediately set about filling out a rather lengthy form– a release– without which we couldn’t be taped.

Seated in the long, narrow hallway that leads to Gotham’s showroom were several other comedians that we knew from our travels throughout Standup America, our forays into New York and Los Angeles, and our various visits to Just For Laughs in Montreal. A steady stream of comedians came in from out of the gloom, signed the clipboard, obtained a release and set about filling in the blanks.

And all the while, at the end of the hall, near the double doors that are the entrance/exit to the show room, a camera crew– light, sound, camera, producer– waited for the successful auditionesr to exit those double doors… and submit immediately to an interview for the camera.

“How do you think you did?”

“How do you think you’ll do onto tonight’s showcase?”

“What did the judges say?”

Meanwhile, the rest of us, hunched over our forms, are eager for any clue as to what’s transpiring inside the near-empty showroom, any clue as to what might make our audition go smoothly, any shred of evidence that our set (as we’ve planned it) might be exactly what the judges are looking for. The atmosphere is more reminiscent of a church vestibule than a comedy club in New York City.

The sound guy is peeved because every time a comic makes some sort of humorous statement in his interview, the comics filling out the forms guffaw… it’s a gallows humor kind of thing… we’re all facing a similar fate and we’re grateful for any bit levity or insight. But the sound guy shushes us.

The entire exercise is like a psych experiment. Is it intended to measure stress?

To gauge our altruism? To see if subjects can maintain a sunny attitude while filling out a 24-page form? It’s all very twisted. And, needless to say, high-stress.

All the while, we’ve got to be ready for our scheduled time. We’ve got to fill out our papers, and, in packs of six, head through the Gotham kitchen to the far side of the showroom, where we wait in a cramped hallway, to do that 2 to 3 minutes that might result in a set later on in, at night– when comedy is supposed to performed!– in front of a packed house.

And all the while, a steady stream of unsuccessful auditioners– many of whom we are also familiar with– heads out to 23rd St., having been turned down for a chance to impress a full house of comedy fans.

We fill out our forms. We make small talk, renew friendships, connect with some folks we only know through the internet. We encounter the occasional comic who is filling out the Big Form– the one required of those who make it to the evening showcase– and congratulate them. We wait. We can’t hear anything coming out of the near-empty showroom. We don’t relish the thought of going up in front of three judges and a camera crew. We’re reminded of the time… actually, we can’t really think of any situation that is remotely like it. We try to conjure up some sort of analogous scenario from the past… and we come up empty.

The call is made. A gang of six or so heads through those double doors and through the kitchen.

We wait in the hallway while a PA and a floor director tell us exactly what will transpire, how the whole thing will go down. And they answer the questions.

Comics are adept at gaming out a scenario and conjuring up a surprising number of questions. There could never be a Last Comic Standing FAQ, because it would be too big. No matter how many questions a gang of editors could dream up, a group of freaked-out comics could come up with a thousand more. Especially in the minutes leading up to the actual audition.

The auditions go quietly. Occasional bursts of tiny laughter seep through the curtains. We’re not permitted to observe the goings-on. We’re kept in the chute while the others do their thing. It’s maddening, especially considering that the Female Half is up two before the Male Half… so the Male Half is frustrated in his attempt to hover near the curtain and observe the fate of his other half. He hears snippets– The Female half getting a laugh from the crew… Giraldo speaking… The Female Half dissing Kindler and getting a laugh… Giraldo barking out, “Do another joke…” and then barking it out again… and again… and all the while The Female Half complying– and then, it seems that The Female Half has gotten through to the
nighttime showcase.

The Male Half goes out and does his short routine, then engages in banter with the judges. It is determined that he is worthy of a look-see at the nighttime showcase.

Then, it’s the double doors and an interview.

The producers are keen on finding out what might happen if one or the other half makes it through and the other doesn’t. We sense that this is a theme that they are intent on hammering away at… as if a narrative has already been formed and they are determined to garner footage of one or the other or both reinforcing some scenario they’ve cooked up. We’re wary of this, but we’re also understanding. It’s how the game is played. The question will come up again, in various forms, over the next eight hours.

After the “double doors” interview is done, we’re instructed to head downstairs to yet another interview… this one, ostensibly taking place before we have been passed onto the evening showdown. There are lights, a camera, a bored crew and the mandatory producer. They ask the usual probing questions.

“What will this mean to you if you win?”

“What happens if your husband makes it to the finals and you don’t?”

“Where are you from?”

We are ushered upstairs again… to the hallway… where we are asked to fill out another form. This one is twice the size of the other and it delves into your work history, you addresses from the past, your education, your hometown, whether or not you have a criminal record and if there are any family members you’d rather not have the producers contact. It’s more of the psych experiment, only more diabolical– here you are… exhausted from the ordeal that is an audition for a primetime network television show… and you are asked to recall odd details from your last ten or twenty or thirty years.

Some of these details aren’t all that pleasant. And filling out the form is a bizarre experience. At the very least, recalling those details in the dank hallway of a comedy club in NYC, at 11:45 in the morning, while one’s career decision from 20 years or so ago is being rethought, could be considered mildly disconcerting at the very least and mind-blowing at the very most.

The Female Half screwed up.

“What is your worst quality?”

I’m too hard on myself.

“What is your best quality?”

She forgot. And left it blank.

And, as if this particular exercise wasn’t stressful enough, we were asked to briefly interrupt our work. put down our pens, and grab an umbrella or two and stroll down 23rd St. for a few hundred feet for some “B-roll.” You know, should the producers want to do a “package” on us.

We dutifully grab our umbrellas and comply.

“Go down to the Chelsea Hotel awning and then start walking down toward the crew and then turn and go into the club.”

We comply.

Of course, by this time, we had been separated, or had been so thoroughly caught up in the forms process, that we had had very little time to talk. So… when we unfurled our bumbershoots and started walking toward the film crew, we were talking a mile a minute, sharing our notes on the king-hell crazineess that had just transpired over the last hour and a half.

We were so intent on sharing information that we neglected to “turn and go into the club.” We screwed up the direction. It might have been the simplest direction anyone had ever given.

“Cut!’

“Okay… take it down about halfway to the Chelsea and then start walking… and this time, turn into the club.”

We laughed hysterically. The Female Half yelled, “We suck at this!”

We did it flawlessly the second time. We resumed our work on the forms, then caught a cab and carried on to our hotel in the financial district. (Club Quarters Wall Street)

It was odd, sitting in our lovely room, literally just steps away from the stock exchange. Our plan was to tack down a room via Priceline, somewher in NYC, so that we’d have a place to crash– after we’d crashed and burned at the audition.

And we had vague plans for a night out on the town– which was a way to make lemonade out of the lemons– the lemons that would surely be our lot after being rejected for Last Comic Standing.

But… we hadn’t been rejected. We were, instead, promoted to the evening showcase. We had an entirely different night on our agenda.

And, to make matters even more complicated, we had been told to show up that evening wearing exactly what we had worn that morning. (That was news to us!)

So, after procuring some edible food from a Greek cafe frequented by traders and other financial drones a block from the hotel, we changed out of our show togs and tried to eat. And tried to rest. And both were impossible

It was just a lot of pointless, half-hearted nibbling followed by a few hours of speculating… in the dark. No real eating, no real sleeping. Just a whirr of thinking and speculating and planning.

We donned our clothing from the morning and prepared for our trek back uptown to Gotham.  (We had been advised– in no uncertain terms– that we absolutely had to wear the same clothes for the evening showcase that we had worn that morning.  Fortunately, for us, we dressed exactly how we might have wanted to for the evening’s show.)  We ventured out onto the streets of the Financial District and set about hailing a cab for the trip north.

We got wet… again.  Our whole day had been spent getting somewhat moist and then trying to dry off… and trying to mitigate the effects– physical and aesthetic– of having been wet and then having dried off.  So we might not have looked as great as we could have when we appeared on camera.  Flat, wacky hair and somewhat rumpled clothing was, for us, and no doubt the rest of the hopefuls, the norm.

So… add that to the stress level.

When we arrived back at Gotham, we were extra early.  So, on the advice of some PA’s, we retired to the barbecue joint next door, where we found a comic with Philly roots– Buddy Fitzpatrick– who was dining with Tina Giorgi.  We were now finding out just who had made it to the nighttime show.  We shared tales of the morning’s surreal audition and we also discussed strategy and tactics and speculated on whether or not we’d be able to repeat material that we had done several hours earlier.

After a bit, we got the all-clear to head into Gotham for the walk-through.  It was then, when all 33 comics were assembled for the pre-show directions, that we learned just who had made it.  Oh, sure the ostensible purpose for the meeting was to inform us as to how to get on the stage, how to exit, etc.  But most folks were assessing just who was included in the elite gang that was assembled in the Gotham showroom.  Who would cancel out whom?  Who is similar to whom?  Who is unique?  Who is more experienced?  Who the hell is that guy?  Is he a comic?

Then it’s down to the basement.

We were relegated to the downstairs bar, a holding pen, in the hours prior to the start of the showcase.  It actually accommodates 33 nervous comics nicely.  And a sound and film and light crew.  And a couple hangers-on.  We chatted and caught up with old comedy friends and occasionally honored requests from the film crew for interviews.  It was a strange atmosphere– hyped up because of the obvious stakes, but isolated from the showroom… and made just that much more bizarre because of the TV cameras.

It was a fun atmosphere, not unlike a festival.  But it’s somewhat tense, because we had no idea what was going on in the room just above us.  We had giant hunks of Subway sandwiches and tubs filled with bottled water.  We had access to the bathrooms across the hall.  We had lousy cellphone coverage.  We were in a comedy bunker with benefits.

The show started.  The word that ricocheted around the bunker was that the house was packed and that they were really hot.  They took us away in packs of five or six.  The chosen would be escorted up and through the back stairway of the club to a spot way over stage left.  One of the five would be stationed in a seat in the showroom, awaiting an intro.  The other four would wait in the narrow hallway.

We did not have the benefit of an emcee on our night– Craig Robinson was a no-show due to a scheduling conflict.  We instead came to the stage after someone– we’re not quite sure who, looking back on it– announced our name.

And we were only allowed to see the comic who preceded us.  And after we were finished, we were instructed to exit, stage right, and park ourselves just this side of the double doors at the Gotham showroom exit.  There, we would wait until a PA told us to barrel out the doors, where another film crew awaited for a post-showcase interview– not unlike the morning’s drill where we did the same with a post-audition interview.

So… when your name was called… and you were among the five being escorted into the chute for the showcase, it set off a rather surreal 30- or 40-minute chain of events that saw you emerge from the basement, wait for your set, do your set, exit, do an interview, then return to the basement.  There you would be greeted by your colleagues who would debrief you on what had transpired.  Not unlike a gang of reporters drinking in the lobby of a warzone hotel peppering intrepid reporters for news of the front.  Only this lobby had no alcohol.

As the reports filtered down to us, various comics tried to use the information to assess and adjust.  A lot of second-guessing went on.  It didn’t help any that, at one point, just before the show began, we were told by a producer that we were not to repeat any of the material that we had done in the morning’s audition… or that were not allowed to repeat any material that had been used today… or that, from now on, no repetition of material… whatever… it was vague… and confusing.  And the source of ever more second-guessing and last-minute editing and hurried set construction.

Which no doubt hurt some comics.  Or at least took a bit of wind out of their sails as they mounted the stage to do battle.

The Female Half opted to do the first 2:30 of her standard club set, figuring, at the very least, that it would be something she was intimately familiar with and, thus comfortable with.  And, let’s face it, looking comfortable is a good part of the battle.

Others cobbled together sets on the spot.

Others trusted that television producers rarely stick to what they say and forged on with a planned set, figuring that they’d deal with the consequences when they got to Hollywood.

All sound strategies.  It’s television, after all.

And all the while, the camera crew wanders around, snagging this comic or that, for an interview.  And one wonders just how over-the-top or hearfelt or TVworthy one should frame the responses.  Or if the responses can be edited to make the respondent look poorly after editing.  Or if the remarks come off as too mean… or if the sarcasm comes through… or not.  Add to this the fact that we’re asked the same question or two multiple times over the course of ten or twelve hours.  Should we stick to the same answer?  Should we acquiesce to the producers’ obvious desire that we trip up and offer an alternative to that which we’ve offered the previous three times?  What are they up to?  Or am I just paranoid, punchy from lack of sleep?  Oh, and I’ve got a set to worry about.   It’s the psych experiment all over again.

And, of course, there’s the knowledge that we’ll have to consent to yet another interview immediately upon exiting the stage.

Is it not hard enough to mount the stage in front of a packed house at Gotham without a roving film crew, vague direction from producers and no alcohol?  Oh… and, it’s all going into the Blurb-O-Matic at NBC to be aired 90 days hence.  The degree of difficulty edges up to 11.

We’ll have more to add in the next day or so.  Stay tuned.

We watched Last Comic Standing. It has been 91 days since we were involved in the audition and showcase that was (ostensibly) depicted in tonight’s episode. That’s a lot of waiting. A lot of waiting and keeping the trap shut.

We’ve been talking about our experience on that day, March 22, since then. We go over the details. We try to recall what we said, what we did, what we’d do differently, what we’d do again. We’ve dissected it and analyzed it and we made a few stabs at writing about it in long form (which resulted in an opus that will post shortly after 1 AM EDT).

But it’s mondo bizarro to see the footage from that day sliced and diced (and mixed in with footage shot two days prior!) and then presented as one day’s chain of events. (That’s right, possums: For last week’s episode and this week’s episode, they took hours of footage from the Saturday, March 20 audition/showcase and the March 22 audition/showcase and they melded them and presented them as having taken place… well… let’s give them a break. They never really did say that all of that happened on one day.)

Anyway, it’s disconcerting to see vivid video of your day interpolated with a video record of someone else’s day… and then smoothly edited together and presented as one seamless day. It probably causes tiny, irreparable bits of damage to the neurons. It probably tears ever so slightly at our ability to distinguish between reality and make-believe.

We’re stunned by how many comics– tremendous comics– who were on our showcase but who didn’t make it onto the final edit. It should have/could have been a two-hour show, so strong was the group we found ourselves in. So we’re grateful for any facetime that we did get.

We can’t imagine what it’s like to trudge through that day– that grueling, exhausting and, at times, dispiriting day– and not end up with at least a five- or six-second shot on the primetime version. Especially after sweating over the whole affair for ninety days.

We dreaded watching. But, to use the ol’ car wreck analogy, we couldn’t look away. We had to watch… and we’ll have to watch again– we had a VCR recording the show, old school… and we had a Hauppauge 950Q recording it digitally on one of the laptops. So… we’ve got it in two different media. And we’re going to have to watch it again. And again. And we’re going to excerpt it and incorporate it into a “reel.” (So that means we’ll watch it, in Adobe Premiere, hundreds more times, while we edit it.)

The texts and the emails and the Facebook messages and wall postings have been gratifying. (And we suspect that such social media weren’t part of the experience for many LCS contestants from seasons past.) And we’re still waiting for a wavelet or two from viewers in the Mountain and Pacific time zones.

The Male Half and the Female Half will be featured in tonight’s episode (Episode 4) of Last Comic Standing.  (NBC, 9 PM EDT, check your local listings.)  This installment will be Part II of the New York City auditions, held at Gotham on March 22.  The show will be preceded by a rerun of last week’s episode, which was Part I of the Gotham auditions.

Of course, we’ll be watching.  And offering our analysis.

And, after the show airs on the west coast, we’ll upload our opus of  3,000+ words describing our experience– from the morning auditions on March 22 through that evening’s showcase.

Stay tuned.

One of our readers described him as “one of Kansas City’s greats.” He was known more widely as the “King of Freestyle Comedy.” He was 26 years old. He died of complications following a kidney transplant.

Another comic appeared on NBC’s America’s Got Talent Tuesday night. This time, it was Chips Cooney, from Edgewater, NJ. SPOILER ALERT: He makes it through to Vegas.

We’re quite puzzled that Piers Morgan didn’t know that Cooney was “going for terrible,” as Mandel described it. Of course he was “trying to be terrible!” That’s the whole joke!

We gotta hand it to Cooney, though– all through the pre-interview, he played it straight and maintained that he was “an illusionist.” (We’re quite certain that the PA’s knew he was an intentionally bad magician, but we’re not so sure that the judges were alerted ahead of time. And we’re glad to see that the ignoramuses in the audience were essentially fooled into rooting for a comedians. Which is something they’ve been trained not to do… inexplicably.)

You can see the NBC.com “New York Auditions” slideshow here. It’s a collection of pics of some of the folks onstage at Gotham, auditioning… or are they performing at the evening showcase?  Hard to tell.  Oddly, there are no captions, no names put to the faces.

Well, lucky for you, we can ID the comedians in the photos.

From 1 to 17, they are as follows:

1. Jared Logan
2. Kevin Bozeman
3. Keith Alberstadt
4. Alycia Cooper
5. Jerry Rocha (Thanks, Jennifer!)
6. Roy Wood, Jr.
7. Kyle Grooms
8. Kevin Meaney
9. Stuckey & Murray
10. Vanessa Hollingshead
11. Tom Shillue
12. Brian McKim
13. Jordan Carlos
14. Ryan Hamilton
15. Tina Giorgi
16. Buddy Fitzpatrick
17. Elon James White

If we got any wrong, drop it in the comments.

There’s a status update on a Facebook profile (the profile of someone who has a lot of juice in this business) about last week’s premiere episode of Last Comic Standing. We were stunned. For many resaons. Here it is:

Saw Last Comic Standing. And my stomach hurts like I got punched really hard. So incredibly sad to watch the circus. I feel bad watching great comedians like Andy Kindler and Greg Giraldo have to pretend someone is good…because the producers make them. It’s all part of the manipulation that is “reality television.” The only saving grace is the huge exposure comedians get from this.

This is great.

He essentially took a shit– a whopping, steaming shit– on the credit that is “Appeared on LCS, Season Seven.”

He has portrayed everyone– from Giraldo and Kindler on down– as being sad, as participants in a “circus.” This is just wonderful.

Not only that, he has implied that Kindler and Giraldo– perhaps the two greatest innovations of the new season– are essentially puppets (who “pretend someone is good…because the producers make them”).

And, by not naming names, he has implied that anyone who made it through to the evening showcase was moved on, not because of talent, but because of producer fiat.

Giraldo and Kindler have a difficult job to do. (We’re only leaving out Leggero because she wasn’t singled out in the Facebook status update.) And they’re doing it with integrity and humor. And not a hint of vitriol or condescension.

In the past, other comics have been given this task and have handled it poorly– Ant being the most notorious. So we have no problem with the way these judges are carrying out their duties.

To imply that these two comics– arguably among the most respected and admired in the business– are being cynically manipulated (or are themselves cynically manipulating others) is… cynical.

We’re fascinated by some of the comments that have been popping up on some of the blogs and throughout some of the social media.

“That’s what happens when you need a paycheck,” chimed in one comment on the above quoted status update. “It is an incredibly sad and disturbing portrayal of comedy esp. for those of us who’ve worked so hard to be successful at it.” said another.

A third comment added:

That show has always been just awful… to sell the idea that these are the best comics in the country, or anything at all close to that– is pathetic. For all of us comics busting our tails in this business… what a sham. I can only imagine how painful it is for someone of your level to see this amateur night to be passed off as a contest.

We add that these commenters are comedians.

We ask them: Exactly who was the pathetic comedian from last week? Was it Kirk Fox? Who are the sad ones from last week? Laurie Kilmartin and David Feldman, perhaps?   Which of the “amateurs” that were passed through last week’s “circus” caused the above commenters so much anguish? Shane Mauss? Or Chip Pope, maybe? Was it the promotion of Maronzio Vance or Taylor Williamson that caused this lynchmob so much heartache?
We were frustrated about certain elements of the broadcast.  We’ve detailed exactly what it was that so bothered us.  But, there’s nothing remotely “sad” or “disturbing” about what transpired on that premiere episode.

It was two hours of comics– mostly accomplished and respected comedians– who were excited and grateful for an opportunity to garner network primetime exposure.  If you found anything sad or pathetic about it, you had better reassess your relationship to the business.  And get a hold of yourself.

And get over yourself.

Now the “circus” moves on to New York.  And this time the producers had the audacity to use their strongarm tactics to force Kindler and Giraldo and Leggero into promoting such sad, pathetic amateurs as Roy Wood, Jr., Tommy Johnagin, Kurt Metzger and Mike DeStefano to the big show.

We can certainly see why some folks might feel as though they’d been punched in the gut after watching that sorry spectacle.

And what a bunch of saps these contestants are!  After all, the only saving grace of having been selected to perform in Los Angeles is the huge exposure… on primetime network television.  What a gang of suckers they must feel like!

We must ask: Why does anyone appear on a network television show?  For the thrill?  To change minds?  To prove, once and for all, to our dead father that we eventually amounted to something?

Get a grip, people: We do it for the exposure!  Of course it’s the only saving grace!  Do you think people do it for the AFTRA minimum? Hell, no! It’s for the exposure.

How many hoops do we usually jump through to get similar exposure on, say, a late-night television show?  We do the same 4:30 set over and over and over until it isn’t even remotely funny to our own ears.  We submit the transcript to be picked over by Standards and Practices and dutifully consent to their ridiculous requests.  We fly to a distant city and cheerfully acquiesce to the often bizarre and senseless changes “suggested” by the talent coordinator.

You can only get so much exposure by performing four shows a weekend to a total of 750 people.  Television provides a way to get your message, your persona, your particular brand of comedy alchemy to as many people as efficiently as possible in the hopes of turning that 750 into 1,250… and eventually into 12, 500…  in one night.

And, with few exceptions, the only thing that can work that magic is television.

And if you dare to condescend to anyone who knowingly and willfully submits to jump through LCS’s (neglibly) different series of hoops, then you are unnecessarily denigrating your fellow comic… and preposterously elevating yourself  above him.  And all so that you can tsk-tsk about it the next time you’re in a green room, or the next time you update your Facebook status.

Now, that is pathetic.

Comedian Jeremy Paul commented on one of our postings about Last Comic Standing. It was a lengthy comment. And, to be quite honest, we got the feeling that we haven’t been crystal clear as to how we feel about that element of LCS that has people standing in line to audition.

So, we thought we’d bring the comment up topside and air this out.

Jeremy Paul writes:

As one of the people whom stood/laid in line back in March, I have to disagree with half of your statements regarding us that actually did stand in line. Namely the assumption that if we had actually gotten honestly considered, that we’d have crapped ourselves after receiving the coveted red envelope and getting a shot at the real show. I would have loved to have been honestly considered. My time with the judges was decent, in that I wasn’t one of the many who got slaughtered and sent home after 30 seconds, I got my 2 minutes.

Stop right there.

We must point out a glaring contradiction in your comment. You say that you would love to be “honestly considered.” You go on to say that you did two minutes… in front of Andy Kindler, Natasha Leggero and Greg Giraldo… if that isn’t getting honestly considered, we don’t know what is.

Also: Keep in mind that many of those who “got slaughtered and sent home after 30 seconds” were also honestly considered. They just got honestly considered, then rejected and sent home.

To say that you, who did two minutes, were not honestly considered is simply not accurate.

As for the pants-crapping thing: The overwhelming majority of the people standing in line did not have the experience or the necessary amount of material or the temperament to progress further in the show. It’s the truth. We’re not saying everybody in line… just the overwhelming majority. Especially this year, when the producers have determined that the show will be more focused on actually performing. We recall that certain comics (Kathleen Madigan if our memory is accurate, being one of them) who got deep into the show without having to to do more than five or ten minutes of material. Such is not the case this year (or so we have been led to believe).

So… “crapping the pants” is just our way of saying that folks might have gotten themselves in over their heads. Which, as a comedian, is not something you want to do on primetime television. (Witness the dude from Dallas, Kevin Small, who, after admitting that he’d only been doing comedy since November, went up at the Los Angeles evening showcase and pitched a shutout. In comments on other websites, Small maintains that the set went better than the edited version might indicate. However, this is television and the edited version is always looming.)

Jeremy Paul continues:

But the reason they gave me for not being invited back to the night auditions, funny enough, was extremely similar to what they told Guy Torry. Keep in mind, I know friggin well they were not gonna exclude Guy from coming back. Guy is well known, I am not. Guy has an agent, I do not. Guy was invited back to the night show to perform because, after all, he is Guy Torry.

Whoa. This notion– that folks who have an agent and/or a manager have an easy stroll to the evening showcase and a further pass to the Alex Theatre– is false. We auditioned for the show in NYC and we saw many comedians– many professional comedians with representation and management and multiple, recent television credits– stomping out of the club after their auditions, disappointed that they did not advance to the evening showcase.

Furthermore, we know of many comedians without representation who did make it into the evening showcase. It’s tempting to believe otherwise, but it’s simply not so.

I am Jeremy Paul, I am funny, I waited in line, did a cleanish 2 minute bit and was my normal
comfortable self on stage. So did more than a few friends of mine. None of us are amateurs. We do crappy road gigs and good ones. We feature for some of the people who have been on the show and will be on the show.

And… we reiterate that this chain of events or set of circumstances does not guarantee a spot on the evening showcase, nor does it guarantee a spot in the semifinals. It’s the nature of the beast– auditions, either arranged or cattle call– do not guarantee success or rejection. They get you a chance.

Paul continues:

The people out here know who made it on to the nighttime showcase and how they made it on. Such as a comic who called in a favor because he does side jobs for one of the producers. Then there are comics who deserve it simply based on talent, like Laurie.

And your point is?

It’s Hollywood. Let’s see if we have this straight: You’re hurt because someone made it onto a television by virtue of his connections? We know of someone– a comic who had already made it to a previous season’s evening showcase– who called in a favor hoping to get onto the show in Season Six. This particular comic then arrived at the audition and never made it past auditioning before a PA with a clipboard. So… someone with connections (who had actually scored some facetime in a previous season!), found it difficult to advance to a level that was two levels below what had been achieved in a previous season.

Paul continues:

The show is casted. It is not an open competition.

And we suppose that you still put out milk and cookies for Santa Claus.

We’ve been accused of being a “shill” for the show, for praising it and excusing its shortcomings. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Along with pointing out the obvious (to us) value of appearing on LCS’s sizable network primetime audience, we’ve pointed out the obvious (to all) disadvantages of appearing on a show that is perceived by many as an amateur show. We’ve decried the various gimmicks that the show has employed. We’ve taken the show’s producers to task for relying on reality television conventions when they could have easily presented a slate of competent, professional, seasoned performers within a framework of a good old fashioned contest.

Instead, in the early stages of the show (and, unfortunately, through to this season), they presented the show as Top Chef meets American Idol. We have always maintained that the SteadyCam shot of the folks standing in line was too tempting to resist, but that the overall effect was to cause a schism among viewers– half viewed the show as a legitimate path to the top of the comedy heap for rank amateurs… the other half saw it as a sham that merely paid lip service to pathetic hopefuls while passing connected pros onto the glamour spots. Of course, there are elements of both in the show… and that schizophrenic nature is what is causing so much controversy “out there.” (And “in here”– meaning the comedy community– where the bulk of your best potential contestants will come from.  And where the majority should know better.)

And therein lies the tragedy.  You can’t have a talent search for comedians (that culminates in a shootout or a contest or an elimination) that employs nothing less than seasoned pros. (And if you do, be prepared for anomalies that wreak havoc with the format– a “green” comic that wins while taking advantage of the quirks and vagaries of the “contest rules” and the “voters at home,” etc.)  So you have a situtation where the internet is pocked with Tweets and comments and chatboard posts that maintain that the show is “rigged.”   That is, of course, a negative term.  And we don’t hear that term used in referring to any other reality show on all of television.  Somehow, among all the contest or reality or competition shows on all of television (cable and network) LCS has managed to box itself into a position where somewhat savvy people– inside and outside of the business– have a perception that the show is somehow not on the level.

It’s failed utterly to deal with the perceptions– Is it for amateurs? Is it for pros? Is it cast? Is it a pure competition? There were so many ambiguities from the start that the show has been dogged by such speculation since Season One.

It didn’t have to remain so.

It would have been refreshing to see the producers address this buzz early on. It would have beneficial to see the host sent out among the media to spread the word that the show is an ideal showcase for seasoned professional comics but that the door is cracked open for that occasional “gem” among those who camp out. (Or ideally, that the show has been totally revamped and that all the spots are reserved for vetted candidates and that the marathon campout has been eliminated.) Either version would have set well with a significant portion of the show’s fans. And neither tactic would have raised an eyebrow– indeed, either scenario would have had the effect of clearing the air and eliminating the ambiguity. As it is, however, the current configuration reflects poorly on all– the campers, those with “appointment” auditions, everyone– and those who get through are tarred with all manner of woeful descriptions. We’ve seen people with 20 years in the business described as “desperate.” We’ve seen speculation that LCS auditioners “must have hit a rough spot.” We’ve seen all kinds of ways to denigrate the decisions made by legitimate professional comedians to try out for a network primetime show that has the potential to expose those who succeed to 4 or 5 million viewers. What is wrong with that picture?

One of our readers pointed out that there is no way that someone– someone who had never tried standup– sitting on his couch in the summer of 2003 could view Last Comic Standing and realistically have thought that they could have tried out for the show’s following season and had a chance at either qualifying for the semis or winning. So the show was only loosely based in reality when it tried to draw parallels to American Idol. And those who indulge in this fantasy were only loosely based in reality! Other reality shows had no such pretentions toward a pure open-audition talent contest. Their “audition” process was conducted behind the scenes, via tape, or on recommendations. In other words, they were cast.

A fundamental mistake (but an understandable one, considering the reality of Reality Television in 2003) was made when the show was originally conceived. A show that purported to find the “funniest person in America” was presented as a pure open-audition comedy competition. And it clearly was not.

But what’s done is done. The franchise was essentially poisoned. But, in television, there is always an antidote.

So now we have a situation where the folks who stand in line have to decide whether or not their adventure is worth the time and heartache.

And the people inside the business have got to stop with the ridiculous heckling of those who have appointment auditions.

Both sides gotta get some perspective. Which is all we’ve ever asked for from the beginning.

We don’t expect it from those civilians who are sitting at home, those who have no connection whatever to the entertainment business, whose only contact with comedians is via the occasional visit to the local comedy club.

But we do expect it from the comics– from those on the periphery to those all the way through to the heart of Standup America.

That’s right. The millions of unemployed youngsters out there can glean interview tips from watching Last Comic Standing. It’s not our idea, but we wished we’d thought of it.

Someone named “wendyterwelp” dispenses career advice via a blog called Rock Your Career and she says we can learn a lot from watching some of the auditions on the premiere episode of LCS.

4. Address decision-makers and those you meet at the company by their correct names. One contestant was so nervous, he called the female judge the wrong name, TWICE, each a different name, and both wrong. She said simply, “You can stop now. It’s a no for me.” And of course her fellow judge had to say, “Me too, but I’m still calling you Nancy.” (Her name was Natasha.)

We saw the clip (you can see it below), and we were pretty sure that Marc Ryan (the contestant in question) didn’t call the judge by the wrong name because he was “nervous.” (He says later (at 0:53), “Nancy, no one’s listening to you.”) So, he wasn’t nervous. He fully intended to diss one of the judges.

He may not have walked in with the intention of dissing Legerro, but it is entirely possible that, after being interrupted, he bristled and decided to inflict some damage. (Of course, we can’t tell what happened, because the entire audition was edited. But it’s clear that Ryan was uncomfortable with the audition process.)

It is an unnatural process. Nearly all comics wrestle with the fight or flight response in the infamous empty room/AM audition framework. The stress level is among the highest of any experience out there… even for a comedian with hours of experience. If you analyze the 1:11 that we’re allowed to see, you can detect a crazy, complex back and forth that makes for some interesting television.

We would wager that this exchange was a favorite among many of the comedians watching.

As of 8:41 EDT, that was the most recent comment under the Youtube video of Philly comedian Doogie Horner‘s appearance on America’s Got Talent.  And by “juich,” we think the commenter means “Jewish.”  (See video below.)

We post this video because it is fascinating and illuminating.  Host Nick Cannon tells Horner, “We’ve had forty different standups on this show, and they’ve all been booed off the stage.”  What’s going on out there?  We’ve always been aware of an ugly, low-level distaste for standup comics– either borne of envy or general resentment or merely the pack mentality fostered by multiple negative portrayals in the media or the pop culture– but what we’re seeing lately seems to be a bit wider, a bit more blatant, the participants engaging in the hatefest in an unapologetic manner.

The video of Horner’s two-minute battle is just the latest example of this wave.

Much to Horner’s credit, he doesn’t flinch.  Instead, he engages in outlandish, stonefaced condemnation of the crowd and (according Helium’s Facebook status update) he manages to advance to the show’s Vegas stage.  He takes the comic’s worst nightmare (no doubt with Cannon’s warning still ringing in his ears) and stays in the moment.  He turns the mess around and manages to garner some fans toward the end.  They were no doubt admiring his refusal to back down.

It’s especially disturbing that they start booing immediately!  They booed him merely because he was a comedian.  It is worth noting that the same crowd waited for a long time before they registered that level of dissatisfaction with the gentleman who put his dick in a bucket and then lit firecrackers inside that same bucket.  So… to recap: A guy who pulls down his pants and fakes blowing up his penis is accorded more of a welcome than a comedian.

It seems that not backing down is the best way to deal with the rude creeps.  We suppose that’s why we’re in our twelfth year of publishing this magazine.

We forgot to mention that, in the middle of a commercial for America’s Got Talent that ran last night during Last Comic Standing, we spotted Raymond the Amish Comic.  It was a quick cut, but that was him, all right.

Will he be this year’s Grandma Lee?  Maybe.

Is there a niche in Vegas for an Amish comic?  Maybe.

Tune in now… it just started here on the east coast.

The overnight ratings are in and Mediaweek’s Marc Berman (who is that publication’s “Programming Insider”) has dubbed Last Comic Standing one of Monday night’s “losers.”

NBC, in particular, was very disappointing because it was in all originals care of the two-hour season-premiere of Last Comic Standing (3.3/ 5 from 8-10 p.m.)

Back in ’07, we note that we posted that NBC was said to be “solid” on Wednesday with numbers that seem only slightly higher.  In 2007, from Berman again:

The Peacock was also solid Wednesday with “Last Comic Standing” (2.6/8 in 18-49, 6.39m)

Sure, two or three million viewers lost might constitute “loser” status in the unforgiving game that is network primetime television. But those other figures are from 2007! A lot has happened in three years… like networks (particularly NBC) have been hemorrhaging viewers. So they might settle for fewer eyeballs.

But the goal is not so much to capture eyeballs but to capture more eyeballs than the other guy. By this measure, NBC and LCS didn’t do so good. And LCS came in fourth in its timeslot. And it failed to improve on the show that occupied its slot last season. And it didn’t pull down the gaudy numbers that its reality TV cousin, America’s Got Talent, got last week.

It doesn’t help matters that so many reviewers in the dinosaur media trashed standup comedy in their reviews. People generally love standup comedy. But it doesn’t take more than a snide comment here or there to flip that TV-viewing switch in their heads.  In fact, we noticed a strange phenomenon when we monitored Tweets about LCS.  A  good number of those Tweets started off with  from people who liked the show or people who said they were planning to watch it were prefaced by an apology. ( “I’m sorry, but, I like the show…” or “I hate to say it, but I really liked it…”  “You may think I’m crazy, but…” Like that.)

NBC has been promoting the heck out of the show… but if you’re in fourth place among networks, your numbers are small to begin with… so promoting during poorly rated shows will only get you so far.

We’re convinced that the show is good for standup.  And we’re puzzled by the number of Tweets or Facebook comments or chat room postings that proclaim this comic or that comic to be “too good for the show.”  This is, of course, utter nonsense.  With few exceptions (and they’re pretty obvious), there are hardly any professional comedians whose reputations or fortunes would be damaged by an appearance on primetime network television.  Repeated appearances, we remind you.

It matters not that it’s on a reality series.  It matters not that the format is that of a contest or competition.  It matters not what happened in past seasons.  What matters is that your image is exposed to 3 or 4 million pairs of eyeballs on the most influential medium ever devised.

Were it a straight shot– just the comic, doing his thing, for 4:30, on, say, a variety show,  it would be the most sought after spot on television.  It’s value as a marketing tool would be eye-popping and many times more powerful than that of a similar late-night appearance.  Don’t get us wrong: A late-night appearance is prestigious, valuable, in many ways necessary.  But a primetime network appearance is (even in these deflationary times) tops.

We’ve always been of this opinion.

We’ve never said that such an opportunity was an automatic ticket to superstardom.  But it’s an opportunity.  And it’s an opportunity in a crowded field– a crowded comedy field and a crowded entertainment/media field.  To denigrate the potential value of such an opportunity (or to characterize this comic or that comic as being “above” appearing on the show because of principals or aesthetics) is ludicrous.

As it is currently configured, there are few professional comics who wouldn’t benefit from being associated with it. And, of course, the show would benefit greatly from association with those comics.  But we fear that the changes made to LCS may be too little, too late.  Had the producers decide in Season 3 or Season 4 to go to a straight competition and had they “made peace” with the comedy community and demonstrated an appreciation for exactly what it is we do and allowed us to do it, thereby widening the number (and upping the quality) of the potential participants, the franchise’s numbers might have rivaled that of AGT… or maybe even DOND.

We hope it’s not too late.

In the meantime, we will urge all to watch and enjoy.

Episode 1!

Well… everyone thinks that all the comics who audition for Last Comic Standing have stood out in the rain for a week or so, wearing bear suits and camping in tiny tents.

Of course, to all who believe this, we ask one question:

Were any of the comedians who made it through to the evening showcase depicted standing in the rain, huddled in a tent or wearing a bear suit?

Put down your pencils.

The answer is, “No.”

So… what can we conclude?

Two things:

No one who stood out in the rain got into the evening showcase.

and

No one who got through to the evening showcase had to stand out in the rain.

This is, of course, in direct contradiction to the opinion now held by the vast majority of the 3 or 4 million people who watched this evening’s premiere. Most folks think that Laurie Kilmartin and Felipe Esparza and James Adomian and the rest of them went without showers and decent hot food in order to get their big break.

And you know some people who watched were fretting about Kilmartin’s little boy. (“Did she take the baby with her? Did she make that little boy stand out in the rain on Melrose for a day and a half??)

Relax, people: It’s Reality Television!

Such is the need of “reality televison”– they seem to create a lot of unreality (or near reality) in order to make reality reality more… exciting. Or gritty. Or dramatic.

We can’t say we blame them.

It makes for a better story. A gaggle of hopefuls, camping out in the inclement March weather of Southern California, getting in front of the judges and lights and cameras of a network television show.

And there is some truth there. Some of them, as we saw through the magic of videotape, get through and are critiqued by Andy Kindler and Natasha Leggero and Greg Giraldo. And it was a dream come true.

But the vast majority are cannon fodder.

And the vast majority of them know this.

And a tiny sliver of them harbor tiny, murmuring hopes of wowing the judges and splashing onto the evening stage and mowing down a packed house and getting that red envelope.

Of course, if any of them ever did get that red envelope, they’d shit a giant log once they heard their name introduced a few weeks later at the Alex Theatre in Glendale. And it would be a horrible embarrassment and the theater would smell badly and it would delay production for about ninety minutes while the union stage workers called in union hazardous material workers to clean up the mess.

But no one ever thinks that far beyond wowing Kindler.

So.  If you are planning out a reality television show such as Last Comic Standing, you make some… arrangements.

None of which compromise the integrity of the show.

And they make for a better experience… down the line.  (Have you ever been to a grade school recital where one of the performers drops the e Coli bomb?  Well, count yourself lucky.)

Full disclosure: We (the Male and Female Halves) auditioned for the show this season.  So, our analysis of this season will be (at least for a time) somewhat different than it’s been in past seasons.

Different how?

Just different.  That will have to suffice as an answer.

Tonight’s premiere moved like a shot.  It was well edited, it was crisp and clear as a bell (largely due to the fact that we’ve got digital cable and a 26-inch Sanyo television) and it told the story of the Los Angeles auditions concisely.

We saw a lot of the morning or daytime auditions.  And we saw a lot of Kindler, Leggero and Giraldo.  And we much prefer them as judges.  In seasons past, we’ve had talent coordinators from late night television shows, we’ve had former contestants and we’ve had various stars of NBC television dramas and comedies.

Let’s see… Ant or Andy Kindler?  A pompous and way-too-serious Richard Belzer or Greg Giraldo?  Natasha Legerro or French Stewart?

Just on paper, it’s no contest.

And when it played out on our screen, it was no contest– we would much rather see three comedians throwing their heads back and cackling and cracking themselves up and (in most cases) offering rather insightful analysis than the contrived “experts” that passed judgement in previous seasons.  (Of course, we read on another blog that the judges were the weak spot.  We’re constantly amazed by the variety of opinions out there!)

The judges are featured heavily.  They seem to be (at least in this phase of the competition) the focal point of the show, the glue that holds it all together.  Fortunately, they’re up to the task.  (We’ve seen speculation elsewhere that the show doesn’t even need a host!  That Craig Robinson was superfluous!  We are not convinced of this, but it’s interesting that someone would conclude this.)  But the judges are a highlight.  And, really, why shouldn’t they be?

In seasons past, the judges were slothlike.  They employed forced catchphrases (in an obvious attempt to drum up some sort of Simon Cowell-like following) and they often demonstrated a woeful lack of knowledge of standup.  Or, if they were actual comics, they showed a curious lack of empathy with the performers.  No chance of this happening in 2010.

And there’s been very little propensity toward embarrassment.  Active embarrassment.  In other words, no one is going out of the way to make any hopeful feel bad.  This is in strict violation of the rules and bylaws set forth by FremantleMedia in the first thousand episodes of American Idol!  Will it succeed as reality television?  Will it blaze a new kinder and gentler trail?  Can a reality show survive without humiliating at least some of its participants?

We shall see!

But if you deprive the viewer of red faces and tears, you had better provide other things.  Like variety!

The show offered a wide array of comedians employing a variety of styles and techniques.

We read a review on another website that went gaga over two comedians– two comedians that didn’t make us crack a smile!  So, if we take that as an indication, there seems to be something for everyone.

Was the show funny?  Good question.

It was certainly spirited.  The judges seemed to be having a good time.  (No small feat, considering the grueling day they endured and the number of comedians they judged.)   But are we really expecting funny at this point in the proceedings?

This episode (and the next two) are laying the ground work.  As viewers of reality television for the past decade or so, we are trained to expect some foundation building, some preface.  It was funny enough.  And we say that without any disappointment or condescension.

The real comedy fireworks will come starting in episode 4 (June 28, by our estimation), when the actual competition begins and the comics will be depicted doing longer sets in a theater setting, before a live audience.

Odd Observations

“Skippy Greene” was actually comedian Flip Schultz.

We spotted Darren Carter, Rob Little, Geechy Guy, Vince Morris, Felicia Michaels among the contestants.

Among those who were featured– but who didn’t make it through to the semifinals (who didn’t receive the coveted Red Envelope)– Chris Fairbanks, Jimmy Dore and Cathy Ladman made the most of a primetime network appearance.

Tom Clark— who was featured in almost all of the promo for the series thus far– didn’t make it to the nighttime showcase. Curious! His face (if not his name) is now familiar to millions of Americans who watch NBC.

Which brings up another question (which we’ve asked in previous years): Why aren’t the psychos and the Vikings and the clowns and the nutters and the amateurs rewarded for hanging it out over the edge by having their name superimposed (if only for two or three beats) over their images? It seems kinda arbitrary who gets the name/hometown and who doesn’t.

Monitor those Tweets! You’ll get a wide range of opinions about LCS! One will call the show “shockingly unfunny” the next will say it’s LOL-worthy. We seem to recall somewhere that humor is subjective. I wonder if that’s still true?

Where does this notion come from that only amateurs should be allowed to compete on Last Comic Standing? We’ve addressed this in the past. But the idiot notion persists. So, it’s only right that we obliterate it again.

People, listen up: If we were to restrict the show to amateurs only, the show would be an unfunny, hot mess. The studio floor would be slick with feces. The contestants would run out of TV-clean material halfway through the evening showcase and the ratings would hover somewhere down around that of the Haddon Township School District School Lunch Menu Bulletin on Comcast Cable Channel #19.

Where do such inane memes get started? And what kind of dribbling know-nothings perpetuate such moronic notions? It’s not too hard to figure out that such a show must necessarily be stocked with competent, experienced comedians who have at least a modest stockpile of jokes and who have developed some formidable stagecraft. If you think such people are lighting cigars with $50 bills (and thus have no need for a primetime television credit), then you are so ignorant as to be in danger of having your television viewing rights taken away.

No one, it seems, can talk about LCS without mentioning that the show is “fixed.” They cite as proof the incident where– six years ago– Brett Butler and Drew Carey walked off the set because their input was seemingly disregarded when the final decision was made to jettison Dan Naturman from the competition. Apparently the smell of a rat persists in the nostrils of many. At the time we were mystified that the producers chose to show the seamy underbelly of the reality show and expose the “casting” element of the show. It certainly cast Naturman as a victim, and it definitely made for some “reality” drama, but the meme persists to this day that the show is somehow crooked. And, while Naturman’s name is rarely mentioned any more among the conspiracy theorists, the “fixed” meme is regularly trotted out (on chat rooms and in Tweets) to discredit choices made on the show this season.

There seems to be a level of sophistication among reality television viewers when it comes to all the other series. We’re curious as to why this same level of maturity hasn’t reached fans of LCS.

To all those who insist that the show is “fixed,” we say: Grow up.

Jimmy Tingle delivers commencement speech at Harvard.

A comment below the video, from “bizazzmedia”:

I was at the commencement, as a member of the Class of 1960, and let me tell you, this was the most unexpected, refreshing commencement address I have heard in years. Would that there were more Tingles in our take-it-all-too seriously academic world.

Reality TV World blog has a piece on the upcoming season of Last Comic Standing complete with perplexing quotes from the producer!

“‘Last Comic Standing’ hoping to ‘add some credibility’ with new revival” tells of all the changes implemented by producers of the show. During a conference call with the media, producer Jayson Dinsmore says something that caught our attention:

Earlier this year, it was reported that NBC reality programming chief Paul Telegdy was interested in relaunching Last Comic Standing with a few format changes, and Dinsmore said he’s glad the network decided to bring the show back.

“Honestly, I think it was on for so many years that the talent pool might have dwindled a bit. Taking it off and resting it for a few years gave us the opportunity for comedians to sort of see themselves again,” he explained to reporters.

Oh, yes he DID say that.

Perhaps he was misquoted. Perhaps he didn’t actually mean that the “talent pool might have dwindled a bit.” Maybe he just meant that the talent pool that LCS might have had access to might have dwindled.

Because no one could seriously believe that the comedy talent pool might have simply “dwindled” during the five or six years that LCS stomped and insulted its way through standup America, belittling and degrading comedians (professional and otherwise) with its “challenges” and its “house” and its cricket montages and its slash and burn editing. There was less “dwindling” (a passive term) and far more “avoidance” (an active term). To explain further: The pool of talent did not shrink. But the number of competent, professional comedians who felt that the advantages of associating with LCS outweighed the risks shrank.

Dinsmore continues:

In addition, Dinsmore said the show’s layoff — it last aired in Summer 2008 — provided better talent at auditions.

“The level of talent we’ve seen is a much higher level this year. There were lots of contestants that tried out this season that hadn’t tried out in previous seasons,” he explained.

We sure hope he doesn’t believe that some sort of “talent pool” magic has resulted in a better grade of comedians at this season’s auditions and showcases.

We like to think that he’s just saying that because he thinks that’s what the media want to hear. Or perhaps that’s the only way he can account for a perceived difference in the level of talent. Speaking of a talent pool is an easier way to nutshell the whole situation without trashing the outgoing producers, maybe.

We can’t get behind this talent pool metaphor, though. Let’s face it: Only two years passed between the time the ’08 auditions were held and these most recent auditions. It takes a lot longer than that for a comedian to master this craft. And there just aren’t that many comics “on the cusp” or “new comedians” who might have turned some sort of corner in the space of two years.

We like to think that the reason that there might have been “better talent at the auditions” is because, starting way back in January or so, word hit the comedy street that the show was going to be different. We all heard rumors that there would be no house. It was also circulated that the show would be more about standup and less about washing cars or dressing up like jesters or making nuns laugh.

Knock out the circus atmosphere, eliminate the Reality Television conventions and– whaddya know?– you automatically have that many more respectable comedians beating your door down for an audition. You automatically have that many more agents or managers who might consent to allow their clients to hang his ass over the edge with cameras rolling– especially if the payoff is a spot on primetime network television where the client is allowed to do what he does best, i.e., standup in front of a packed house.

And, if we take this to its logical conclusion, Dinsmore should see a deeper and wider pool in subsequent seasons if, as the producers maintain, the show has evolved into “a true stand-up comedy competition.”

And if they want to get every, single, working standup comic to tryout for the show, they might even consider eliminating two more Reality TV conventions:  The sidewalk campout and the highly unnatural morning audition in an empty room (save for three judges, a camera crew and a handful of producers and assistants).

The sidewalk campout does little or nothing to goose the level of talent and only engenders bad “press” and hard feelings.  (And hurts the credibility of the show.)

The ghastly, empty-room audition, we can all agree, is one of the hardest things that any comedian will do.  Which doesn’t make it good or noble or interesting.  It just makes it excruciating.  No matter how professional one may be as a standup comic, performing to a near-empty room is, as the alts say (far too often), “soul-crushing.”  Oh, sure, it affords the producers the opportunity to subsequently edit the various performances into demeaning montages, but while that might be entertaining (marginally!), it just keeps good comics (of varying degrees of competence) away.

We’ve been noticing the steady build-up of resentment toward Last Comic Standing as the June 7 premiere date draws near. A lot of it has been posted right in the comments on the show’s own Facebook page!

Craig, you’re a nice guy and all…I hope being associated with the travesty of LCS LA auditions doesn’t effect you personally. I hope you do well as the host but I will have to get my info second hand as I will not be watching.

and

My brotha, do the slaves in Africa who helped round up, harvest and capture other Africans mean anything to you as it relates to comics? You assisted in this “How many retards can we fit in this line” scam with a smile on your face and telling jokes to people in line… you’re a gimmick and I’ll never take your comedy seriously. You’re a tool for the capitalists who care less about other comics.

They were under the Craig Robinson pic that LCS has uploaded. And they were taken down after a short while. They were signed, but we left off the author’s names to spare them… embarrassment, maybe?

It seems that a lot of the invective is coming from the less experienced comedians. This makes little sense, since it is they who should view the show as a valuable opportunity. Let’s face it: many of the less experienced comics should definitely go out of their way to audition, but they should actually hope they don’t get on the show. (That seems contradictory, but it’s not.)

The open call– where hopefuls line the streets for hours before the auditions begin– is a long shot on the order of buying a lottery ticket. But good things can happen in the process. You can bond with fellow comics. You can get a feel for what the process is like… so when you maybe eventually become one of the hated people with an “appointment audition,” you might be better able to handle it.

We have a friend who stood in line who actually managed to get in front of the judges. He had a great time in line, he came close to the evening showcase and he got great feedback from the judges. And he now has the experience of standing in line for L.C.S. in his rearview mirrror. That kind of experience can only help him. (Indeed, it can only hurt you if you make up your mind that it hurts you.)

But we feel bad for the folks who stood outside for 24 to 48 hours. Not because they braved the elements for a day or two, with little or no payoff, but because some of them seem to have zero perspective when it comes to assessing their experience.

Certainly the production team could have handled things better. But these situation can always be handled better. Has there been, in the history of television, an audition system for a major show that went smoothly, without a hitch, leaving all who participated happy? No.

But we’re not sure that the negativity is the best use of energy. Maybe a little constructive criticism would be the thing to leave on the various Facebook pages and forum pages. If you think that the producers don’t read such comments, you’re seriously deluded. And, from our experience, it seems as though producers are almost always seeking a better way to conduct these operations, seeking a way to leave as few feathers ruffled as possible.

Whenever we’ve bitched about anything in the past, we’ve almost always tried to bitch… and then suggest how matters might be improved.  (Take a number?  Wristbands?  Beepers?  There’s about two decades of monster ticket sale technique and innovation to draw on.  Or information.  People love information.  Conversely, people hate being in the dark.  Could the PA’s have more forthcoming with information?)   The internet is a tremendous innovation when it comes to pissing and moaning.  It is also unparalleled when it comes to genuine communication.  (Of course, whether or not the suggestions are taken and/or acted upon depends on the organization.)  There is a feeling throughout the land that mistakes are not something to be buried and that criticism isn’t something that should be stifled or avoided.  The new approach seems to be to meet the complaints head on and then do something.  As champion complainers, we know!  (In some cases, we’ve actually seen some evidence that the folks in charge just might have taken someone’s– not necessarily our– advice.)

Those of you who stood in line who still wish to remain bitter might have the last laugh. Judging from the promo online on NBC and Hulu (and recalling the way that similar shows have been edited in the past) it will no doubt appear to the viewers at home that each and every comedian who got in front of the judges slept in a tent for a day or two before mounting the stage. Even the ones who make it to the finals.

A while back, we told you about Soundexchange, which was created to chase down royalties for the satellite and internet use of comedy recordings. Now, we have learned of Comedy Exchange Association (CXA), which purports to chase down royalties for the use of comedy bits on terrestial radio.

Much to our surprise, John Mulrooney stars in their brief video pitch/explanation:

Let’s just say that it seems legit. And they’re asking comedians to “register.” For free. CXA, they say on their website, “is already tracking any airplay on terrestrial radio you may be receiving but you must join to get paid. Joining is fast, easy & free!” And then, there’s this:

ALSO – how can you easily pick up tons more airplay? With the new Donkey Comedy Radio Network, making it’s debut at the end of June. It’s a nation-wide 24-7 standup comedy showcase, on AM & FM radio, and they’re looking for content. The more airplay – the more CXA collects on your behalf – and the more exposure you get. It’s a classic Win-Win. And it’s all free.

We’re a little confused as to why a couple guys who are starting a comedy radio network would simultaneously start a licensing and royalties collecting outfit. We emailed them and asked that question. And we also aren’t clear as to why Mulrooney exhorts comedians to “submit a copy… of any work that you want registered.” Are there advantages to registering a copy of the work? Is there any disadvantage to not doing so? (We emailed in this question, too.)

We’ll let you know if/when we hear from anyone at CXA. (They’re supposed to be setting up shop just across the river in Philadelphia, right in the shadow of City Hall,at the old INA building.)

Here is their About page. It lists all the principals.

The Female Half stumbled upon the Friends of Julius blog. FOJ is a Seattle-based comedy/film/video group.

The particular link above is to a post that purports to list the worst comedy club names in America. We admit that some of them are pretty awful, some are defensible. Just to name a few:

Snickerz
Magooby’s Joke House
Brew Ha Ha

But we maintain that poster Jason Ryan missed perhaps the best worst name of all. The club is closed, so it’s understandable. But, for a while at least, there was a club in California that was called:

P. Yopantz

The club’s owners frumped up a cartoon drawing of a person… a creature of some sort… who was, ostensibly, this character by the name of P. Yopantz, after which the club was named. It’s ghastly. And there is really no mystery that the club went under.

It’s right up there with the fictional club (dreamed up by Dana Gould), that has become a part of the show biz lexicon and is synonymous with a ghastly, poorly-named, poorly managed comedy club: Uncle Fucker’s Chuckle Hut.

Upon scrolling down, we found this exchange in the comments under the Worst Comedy Club Names posting:

2 comments:

mjrjr said…

where did you find these names

April 10, 2009 9:06 PM

Jason Ryan said…

http://www.sheckymagazine.com/clublist.htm

April 11, 2009 12:04 PM

We’ve neglected that club list for so long that we’re surprised that anyone got any information out of it. It’s a hold over from the old days when such lists were necessary and useful.

Did you watch Idol tonight?  No?  Well, then, you missed a hunk of television lore, right up there with the time the streaker set up David Niven for one of the all-time greatest Oscar lines or when “Soy Bomb” failed to flap the unflappable Bob Dylan on the Grammy’s a few years back.

Dane Cook was tapped to come out and razz Simon Cowell on tonight’s results episode.  (Simon’s leaving the show, so they took the opportunity to pad out this episode with multiple Simon tributes.)  Cook showed up with a guitar and a song.  A song co-written by Cook and J. Chris Newberg.

But before the ditty could reach its delicious climax, some nutjob jumped out and commandeered the mike, jabbering about Simon and yelling vaguely threatening things about him.  It was a true WTF/TV moment!  One which had millions wondering: Was it real or was it staged?

UPDATE: We went to a/the source.  Newberg writes:

I wrote a great song with Dane for Idol and before he had a chance to really get into it, some dickbag jumped out and soy bombed him. The song is fun and it was perfect for the show. I am very proud of what we did.

Nice reference to “Soy Bomb!” (See above link.)

Dane Cook tweeted about it:

That was not staged. Weirdo hijacked the song. Just glad he didn’t hit me in the face w/the mic or Americal Idol would b American Beatdown.

And…

If you missed it I got Kanye’d on American Idol. Wild. Luckily at the end of the song. Simon loved it. D-load song on iTunes tomorrow.

Cook goes for the Kanye reference… we went for Soy Bomb.

SHECKYmagazine and J. Chris? We Old School!

We can’t believe it either. And we owe it all to Kent Politsch, the man behind SIC Web Design (“Form and Function, Pixel by Pixel”).

A coupla weeks ago, we posted about our frustrations re Blogger’s decision to stop supporting FTP. In the process, we trashed the alternatives to Blogger. In particular, we said nasty things about WordPress.

Politsch happens to love WordPress and he wrote us an impassoned email defending the blogging platform and pointing out our errors. (We went to wordpress.com, not wordpress.org… our first mistake!) Then he went above and beyond and, after a lot of handholding and furious web designing, he birthed SHECKYmag 2.0!

Anyway, we were way wrong, he was way right and now we’re up and publishing and we have a splendid, efficient and much better website!

Thanks, Kent!

We’re leaving Blogger.

They have screwed us over.

We can’t access any of our files since they forced us to migrate to their servers.

On May 1, they stopped supporting FTP. We’ve been using FTP since we hooked up with Blogger back in 2004.

None of our image files are visible to visitors (they’re all broken links, except for any images that are hosted elsewhere), and none of the hundreds of .htm files that we’ve created over the past eleven years– our interviews, our online press kit, our various other files– are visible or reachable.

So… we’re screwed… unless we dump Blogger overboard, switch the DNS numbers back over to Hostgator and figure out a way to blog without the use of Blogger.

We’ve already done the first part (switching the DNS numbers back the way they were), and we’re in the process of figuring out how to retain the look of the website and maintain the ability to easily and quickly blog. That’s going to take some time and effort. In the meantime, we’re crippled but we’re fighting back.

The New York Underground Comedy Festival is accepting submissions. This year, it’ll be August 15-22, at various venues throughout the city.

And they’re teasing a west coast version as well. Dates and venues to be announced.

A few years back (so far back that we can’t find it in our archives), we received an email from a budding comedian who wanted to know if it was a good idea to enter The World Series of Comedy (WSOC).

The WSOC was, at the time, a small but ambitious venture started in Pittsburgh by comedian Joe Lowers. The whole idea was to have a mess of comics go against each other in a series of shows, over several nights, and the winner would be declared… the winner… and the winner would receive prizes. Among the prizes would be several weeks of guaranteed middle/feature work from bookers throughout the country. (Those bookers would also act as judges during the competition phase of the series.

We told the budding comic that we here at SHECKYmagazine.com tend to steer clear of such competitions, but that, for some folks, it is a great way to get high-pressure stage time, meet some other comics from around the country and/or get in front of a booker or two.

We also told him that no one can tell him if it’s right or if it’s wrong… he just has to weigh the pros and cons and either jump in or hold off. It’s a contest. It could go either way. It could go horribly wrong. Or… you could win it. It’s a squirelly, quirky, capricious animal, the comedy contest. Has there ever been one that went smoothly and which satisfied all those involved? (That’s a rhetorical question.)

But no one can tell you if it’s right for you or wrong for you.

We’ve always had this opinion (and once or twice over the intervening years, we even went against our own judgement and actually participated in a contest or two… with mixed results!) and we still have this opinion.

Along comes Joe Lowers again (this time, though, he’s living in Vegas), and he’s putting on The World Series of Comedy again! This year, from September 20-28, he’s promising the winner over 20 weeks (or weekends) of comedy at clubs all over the country, from Boston to Kennewick to Vegas to Tampa to Knoxville. And he’s invited a gaggle of bookers/owners to the Alexis Park Hotel to participate in a meet and greet, a poker tournament and a golf tournament. He’ll also hold a shoot-a-thon, where comedians can, for a fee, get a headshot done.

It sounds a lot like a convention. In addition to the contest, he’s got a lot of other stuff promised.

It’s got a $50 registration fee (that goes up to $75 on July 5th), so factor that in if you’re considering attending. And, please go to the site and read the copy carefully so you know exactly what you get for your fifty.

Of course, we would still give the same advice to anyone who asks: Weigh the pros and cons, examine your situation, and determine if attending such an event and competing in such a contest would be right for you at this time.

You know, there really aren’t that many national showcase opportunities like this for middle/feature acts (or openers who fancy themselves ready to “move up”). Oh, sure, if you’re a headliner, you can get into any one of a number of festivals or television showcases in New York or Los Angeles or cruise ship contests or even corporate comedy pow wows, but for the folks who aren’t quite ready to top the bill, it’s pretty quiet out there.

And for a comedian who seeks to bust out of his home market (or expand his horizons) this sounds like one-stop shopping– a chance to kill several birds with one stone.

We remember back in 1988, Budd Friedman co-produced what was billed as a comedy convention in Las Vegas. From what we hear, a lot of people attended– talent, agents, managers– and a lot of alliances were formed, a lot of friendships were made and a comedian or two made a lasting impact via showcases. (Of course, we also heard some horror stories– afternoon shows that were sparsely attended, hangovers, fistfights, etc. But there’s always going to be some bad with the good.)

We didn’t attend that particular gathering. (We were working.) But we occasionally regretted not going.

There hasn’t been such an industry exhibition since. And there probably never will be. The business has changed so much since 1988, it’s virtually impossible to have one like it again.

And Lowers’ meet-up doesn’t purport to be like it. But it seems like an appropriate conference for the standup industry in 2010.

That’s the name of the most recent promo for NBC’s Last Comic Standing and we gotta say, it’s encouraging. And, we would have to guess that the promotion will be effective.

Here’s the copy from the first part:

It’s been called the loneliest place in the world.
It’s the only thing people fear as much as death itself.
Most who try it fail.
But for those who succeed, it’s awesome.

Whoa! Think about that for a minute… A major television network is promoting a comedy contest (a reality show, but it’s really a comedy contest), and they’re saying nice things about standup comedy! Check that: They didn’t just say something nice about standup; they said something awesome.

Are we dreaming?

We half expected that after the last syllable of the word “awesome” there would be a quick cut to someone in a Viking suit or a chicken outfit and the voiceover would change tone and (cue the zany music), he’d say, “But watching those who suck is awesome, too!”

But it didn’t happen!

We weren’t encouraged by the first two promos, to be quite honest.

Who can you spot in the spots? We’ve seen:

Taylor Williamson
Laurie Kilmartin
Kyle Groomes
Tom Shillue
Nick Cobb
Guy Torry
Fortune Feimster
Tom Clarke
Jonathan Thymius
Chip Pope
David Cope

And, of course, Craig Robinson.

Premiere is June 7.

Whitney Matheson’s Pop Candy column is an institution on USA Today’s website. (We’ve been mentioned there twice over the last eleven years, making Matheson a Media FOS!)

Her latest installment is a “Pop Five,” which is a list of five (things, people, places) submitted by a Pop Candy reader.

This one, from “Jason S.,” a bourgeoning (sic) stand-up comedian in L.A. and New York,” lists the “Five Best Comedians You’ve Probably Never Heard Of.”

They are:

Brian Scolaro
Nikki Paine
J. Chris Newberg
Kyle Kinane
Brody Stevens

Jason S. describes each and prefaces the whole list by stating that “it really is mind-boggling how many great comedians are out there.” We concur.

And it’s great to see a comedian so willing and eager to sing the praises of a handful of colleagues. And it’s refreshing to see positive press on comedians in a major publication. Who is this Jason S.? (Who also goes by the name of Jokergonzo?) Is he/she really a “burgeoning comedian?” Or… is he/she one of the five? (If it is, it’s pure genius!)

We’re proud to say we’ve heard of all these comics– We’ve only seen Payne on Last Comic Standing. But we just hung out with both Newberg and Scolaro last month when the Male Half worked at Comedy & Magic Club in Hermosa Beach. We were delighted by Kinane’s quirkiness when we saw him perform at Zanie’s in Chicago during a Chicago Comedy Festival way back in 2001 or so. And, though we have never worked with Brody Stevens, we did have the pleasure of meeting him at the Improv on Melrose and his mug appears deep in the pages of SHECKYmagazine (or it will, once Blogger fixes our art problem)!

They’re screening the documentary “I Am Comic” tonight in NYC. (The website says it’s presented at the Best of Slamdance, Monday May 10, IFC Center at 8 PM. That’s tonight!)

We got a copy from Ritch Shydner when we were in Los Angeles last month. (Shydner is featured heavily in the film, serving as a spine of sorts– and the narrator– for the exploration of what motivates a comedian and, in his particular case, what motivates a comedian to come back to the stage after a long, self-imposed exile.)

We have a hard time being objective when we watch movies (and documentaries) that deal with standup comedy… often because we know most of the people interviewed and we are intimately familiar with the issues raised. (And this time, we watched the film with two other comics! It turned into “Mystery Standup Theater 3000!”)

It’s getting positive reviews as director Jordan Brady and Shydner exhibit it at various festivals– look for it at Just For Laughs in Montreal and Chicago– and we’re hearing positive buzz on the WWW.

Brady is a former comic, so he’s not coming at this from the outside.

Among those featured are Phyllis Diller, Carlos Mencia, Carrot Top, Kathy Griffin, Dave Attell, Brian Regan and Jeff Foxworthy. (Our favorite moments are 1.) Foxworthy’s recollection of his internal thoughts during his first Carson appearance… he gets an applause break early on in his set and, instead of treasuring the moment and basking in the glory of it, he is compelled to do some heavy duty recalculation of the remainder of his set. “Let’s see… I have a bit about my father at the end… I think I can cut two of the punchlines out to accommodate the applause break…” Priceless! and 2.) Brian Regan’s hilarious recounting of a man in the front row of an early performance being served a giant hamburger and how it totally shifted that man’s attention from Regan to the hamburger. “For the entire time he was eating, I was no longer the headliner… that hamburger was the headliner.” So true!

Catch it when/if you can!

But our photos aren’t!

Still a coupla hiccups while we get this whole Blogger/FTP Migration mess under control.

We thank those folks who wrote to us in answer to our plea for assistance! (Some good suggestions from some web-savvy FOS’s!)

In the end, the folks at Hostgator came to the rescue.

We’re now hoping that a tweak that we made within the last hour will result in all of our glorious photos/images/art returning.

In the meantime, we’re back and we’ll be posting again!