Tough Jobs Always Pay Cheap
I’ve been a regular at a comedy club called Bassa Vito. For a heartbeat – I contemplated comedy, because they said, “You’re so funny, you should be a comedian.” But after the other night, I changed my mind. I saw a guy go on stage and these four people heckled him all night. He drove from Detroit to get beat up on stage in Cleveland and probably got paid enough money to cover his toll and gas.
He handled himself like a pro, poking back but not digging his statements in too deep. It was part of the job – I couldn’t do that, I take everything too personal. Kristalyn and I always said that we go for the throat too quickly. And I think to live a descent life you have to take a lot of things personal – it is the only proof that you care about anything. Too many people shower the world with “I love you’s” and flowers, and that too seems too impersonal because it doesn’t say anything about who you are.
But I’ve drifted away from my point, the comic afterwards tried to salvage what was left of his routine and told an off-color joke about two firefighters, one fucking the other in the ass. And afterwards he was selling t-shirts and bumpers stickers of key phrases from his routine. From the stage, he just became another guy on the floor when he was done. I spent half an hour watching and listening to this guy and all that charisma and confidence was gone, and I hardly recognized him in the crowd.
I used to think that comics were the last group of philosophers. They are our Socrates and Plato. They are our humanitarians. Steve Martin, Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, Eddie Izzard, and Bill Cosby. They are the people that have seen life, but after that night – I thought, well maybe some of them are looking to expose the truth, some are that brilliant and these others – like this guy from the stage, he’s just looking for some love, a little acceptance, and a handful of existence. Before tonight, a microphone, a spotlight, and a stool never looked so sad.
He handled himself like a pro, poking back but not digging his statements in too deep. It was part of the job – I couldn’t do that, I take everything too personal. Kristalyn and I always said that we go for the throat too quickly. And I think to live a descent life you have to take a lot of things personal – it is the only proof that you care about anything. Too many people shower the world with “I love you’s” and flowers, and that too seems too impersonal because it doesn’t say anything about who you are.
But I’ve drifted away from my point, the comic afterwards tried to salvage what was left of his routine and told an off-color joke about two firefighters, one fucking the other in the ass. And afterwards he was selling t-shirts and bumpers stickers of key phrases from his routine. From the stage, he just became another guy on the floor when he was done. I spent half an hour watching and listening to this guy and all that charisma and confidence was gone, and I hardly recognized him in the crowd.
I used to think that comics were the last group of philosophers. They are our Socrates and Plato. They are our humanitarians. Steve Martin, Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, Eddie Izzard, and Bill Cosby. They are the people that have seen life, but after that night – I thought, well maybe some of them are looking to expose the truth, some are that brilliant and these others – like this guy from the stage, he’s just looking for some love, a little acceptance, and a handful of existence. Before tonight, a microphone, a spotlight, and a stool never looked so sad.
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