Open Letter to Bud Selig re: Pete Rose

Warning: this is not a comedy post.  It contains nothing funny, so, in a lot of ways, it's just like my act.  Rim shot! Thank you! I'm here all week, try the veal. 

Pete Rose has been out of baseball for 25 years, serving out his life time ban for betting on the team he managed to win.

Commissioner Bud Selig is retiring in January, 2015 and has basically shelved Pete Rose's reinstatement appeals, all but refusing to address the issue.

Recently, Selig said he has five months to deliberate on the issue, but says he has to do what he feels is best for the game and sometimes you have to live with people not liking your decisions.

So, Commissioner, how is keeping perhaps the best ambassador baseball has out of the game, while hundreds of players used (and many still use) PED's only to be suspended for a certain amount of games, what's best for the game?

Heck, ARod is so guilty he got multiple suspensions wrapped into one sentence and still only missed a little more than a year.

Whether or not one understands the reason behind it, players who take PED's are knowingly cheating.

Where's the integrity of that?

Commissioner, you stated your office was created specifically to deal with the Black Sox scandal of 1919, which, of course, dealt with gambling.

One thing, however, sir:  the Black Sox were paid to THROW their games.  The intentionally did bad so they would lose.

Side bar: Shoeless Joe Jackson did NOT throw games and should be reinstated, as well.

Pete Rose is guilty of betting on the team he managed, TO WIN.

Yes, betting is betting, but it's been 25 years.  Let him in.  The all-time hit leader deserves to be in the Hall of Fame.  Rather, it's a black eye to baseball that the Hit King ISN'T in the Hall of Fame.

By the way, I know there is a difference between reinstatement and election into the Hall of Fame, but one would most certainly beget the other at some point.

Commissioner, we all know your disdain for Home Run leader Barry Bonds.  Yet, even though he was indicted for perjury, indicted and convicted of Obstruction of Justice and has been the central focus of the Balco investigation since 2003, you turned a blind eye to Bonds, letting the chips fall where they may, so to speak.

I just don't think you can use words and terms like "integrity" and "best interests of baseball" if you have different levels of cheating when it comes to knowingly taking PED's to get an edge and gambling.

Pine tar, spit balls, etc. are all to get an edge on that particular game and should we dealt with as such.  PED's are for a season or career.  Much different.

But let's talk gambling, if you would.

Around the time of the Black Sox, America was different.  Baseball was different.  There were no computers and no multi-million dollar contracts.

Gambling was looked on as a tool of the Devil, and only bad people were associated with it.  Today, America has two major gambling cities, one of which has LEGAL sports betting.

Back in 1919, $10,000 went a long way, and made a huge difference in a player's life.  Today, in order to get just ONE player to even consider throwing a game, you'd have to come at them with tens of millions of dollars. 

Owners were cheap and had a strong hold on players.  There was no free agency and the MLPA didn't even exist until 1953.  The previous incarnations of a players union obviously weren't very strong.

Even twenty five years ago, one would still had to have offered at least a few million dollars per player, if players would even entertain the idea.

In 1919, the criminal element moved freely throughout baseball and other sports.  It was easier to get in touch with players, make deals, etc.  Twenty five years ago, and certainly today, its much harder to keep company with a bad element without getting found out.

I'm not so naive to think that some players aren't associating with "bad seeds" today, but it's so much easier to bet sports legally or online, that it really doesn't matter anyway.

But, again, we're still talking apples and oranges, or at least different types of apples.  Pete Rose gambled on the team he managed, TO WIN.  The Black Sox THREW the World Series for money.

Clearly, those are completely different items.

So, now, at least once a year, Pete Rose gets all of our attention, and people wonder why he isn't in baseball or the Hall of Fame.

You've actually created this issue, Commissioner.  Okay, maybe you didn't create it, but you keep it going.

If you reinstated Pete Rose, it would be a HUGE positive publicity event for Major League Baseball.  Think of the ratings and ticket sales when you parade the Hit King around to every major ball park for a Welcome Back to Baseball Tour.

If you think that's too much, because you just don't like Rose, then let him in, let the publicity die down and then he either does or doesn't get into the Hall of Fame.

Then, guess what, he goes away. 

You see, if you let him into baseball everything stops.  If he's hired as a coach or manager, so be it, now he's just a part of baseball.  If he's not, then so be that, too.  If he's elected into the Hall of Fame, then he gives his speech and everyone goes home.  If he's not elected, well, then so be it, at least he was given his shot.  It's not on you, or baseball.

Either way, the issue is dead and no one can complain, no one puts Rose on TV, it's over.

This is a win-win for baseball, Commissioner.  The public gets their Hit King back, you get to leave a great legacy behind and baseball gets to move forward instead of being constantly reminded of the worst of it's past.

Please reinstate Pete Rose in the best interest of baseball.

Sincerely,

Scott Friedman
Linwood, NJ

Robin Williams - What Dreams May Come

Like many of you, I opened my web browser and saw the headline about Robin Williams' death.

My six year old daughter had just come off her Aladdin rotation a couple of days ago.  You know, when the kids watch the same movie over and over again for a week straight.

I was marveling at his Genie, secretly wondering which parts were improv and which were scripted, if any of it was scripted.

I don't know if any one entertainer has had an effect on my life such as Robin Williams.

As a child and pre-teen, I reveled in his antics watching Mork & Mindy.

As much as I ultimately came to love everything George Carlin, it was both Eddie Murphy's first two albums and Robin's An Evening at the Met (1986) that sealed my standup fate.  I just didn't know it yet.

I was already a radio DJ wanna be when Good Morning Vietnam (1987) made it official; I was going to be on the radio no matter what...and, like many people, I could recite almost all of Robin's Adrian Cronauer riffs.

Dead Poet's Society (1989) both made me cry and made me proud of my unknowing friend, Robin.  I had never met him, but I was so proud of him as the world had to stand up and take notice of the Club Paradise comedic actor.  Everyone had to give his acting credit, if they hadn't already with Moscow on the Hudson.

I remember being in awe of him in Good Will Hunting and What Dreams May Come.

I loved that I could share him with my son, going back to Aladdin, then with Hook, Mrs. Doubtfire, Flubber and Bicentennial Man.  Man, my son wouldn't stop watching Bicentennial Man for months.  I think I'm going to go watch it when I'm finished writing this.

And, of course, along the way there was Comic Relief.

Robin Williams represented legitimacy to comedy.  He was a comedian first, last and always, but he was so much more.  He was a legitimate actor, a legitimate star.

He was also an alcoholic, drug addict and severely depressed.

I don't know if there are more than two people on the planet that could tell you if his depression caused him to start the drinking and drugs, or if his addictions caused his depression.

It doesn't really matter; either way, it's tragic.

Is there any good that can come out of this?  Can we take something away from this horrible tragedy?

I think, first, a death of this magnitude brings to light a very difficult subject: depression.  And, as cliche as it sounds, if even one person decides to get help, rather than take their own life, then there was some good that came out of Williams' death.

Please, I implore you, if you even think you might be depressed...get help!  The stigma that you're weak if you admit you need help is so over and so, well, stupid.  It's your LIFE we're talking about.  So, you need therapy or medication, or both.  So what?  Get it!  Get the help you need.  Talk to someone, anyone!  Talk to me if you don't have anyone else.

The other thing is much less important in the grand scheme, but not any less true.  Robin Williams set a standard.  He set a standard that all us performers should strive to achieve.

I hope that you and I can win an Oscar, Golden Globes, have 102 credits on IMDB.com and get all the accolades Robin received.  But that's not what I'm talking about.

Robin worked really hard.  He made his comedy look effortless, with his stream of consciousness rantings, but those in the business know he practiced all of that.

He could have easily gone the route of the comedy movie guy, bouncing around from silly movie to silly movie, but he didn't.  He stretched himself and did dramatic roles that will be remembered forever, and he was rewarded with an Oscar.

He also received the Cecil B. DeMille award in 2005.   The previous ten winners of that award were: Sophia Loren, Sean Connery, Dustin Hoffman, Shirley MacLaine, Jack Nicholson, Barbara Streisand, Al Pacino, Harrison Ford, Gene Hackman and Michael Douglas.

Not bad company to be in.

When you think about your career, think about working as hard as Robin Williams.  Give it your all, like he did.

Goodbye, Robin.  May you Rest in Peace.  You will be sadly missed.

Nanu, nanu.

Are you a douchey comic?

***
Please check out my satire articles on absrdcomedy.com here: Scott Friedman author page.
Also, here's a satire article from whatexitnj.com I wrote: Boring Pleasantville, NJ
Now, on to the douche bags...
***

I've met a lot of great, funny and nice comics in this business.  I like to think I've made some good friends.  I mean, if it came down to me or them for a gig, I'm sure they'd happily step on my neck to get the gig themselves, but other than that, they seem like nice people.

Really, I've been lucky in that I've run into very few mean comics.  Either that, or I'm getting stabbed in the back and thrown under the bus and just don't know it.  Could be.

I started writing this post in the middle of a week long gig in Atlantic City.  It was my first time working with comedians Michael Aronin and the legendary Joey Kola.  Michael and Joey had known each other for years, but I had never met either of them.

We all had our own things going on, so, outside of the show, we didn't get to spend a lot of time together.  And most of the time when we did get to hang out, it was only two of the group, as one of us wasn't available (i.e., Joey and me, Mike and me, or Joey and Mike).

For whatever reason, we all clicked with each other.  We enjoyed hanging out.  We enjoyed each others' acts.  We shared stories, pointers, ideas, punchlines, tag lines, etc.

We became friends.  We became friends who truly want to help each other.

Now rewind to the beginning of the week.  A newer comic I was about to work with friend requested me on Facebook, and then she inboxed me a "looking forward to working with you" message (we had Thursday off from the AC gig and I had gotten booked to close a show in North Jersey).

The comic let me know she was very new, so after I joked that I was just as new as she was, I began asking her some questions.  In her responses, I found some things I could share with her to help her along.  In short, I'm an egotistical know-it-all who gives out unsolicited advice, but she didn't seem to mind.  No harm, no foul.

After the show she introduced me to her husband, and told him I was very generous, gave great advice and wasn't one of the "douchey" comics she seemed to have been meeting.

The next day, I inboxed her some words of encouragement and some general ideas as to how she can move forward.  Tape your act, trim the set-up fat, etc.

Again she thanked me for not being one of the douchey comics.

Are there really that many douchey comics?  Are you a douchey comic?

I only know how to be one way: nice...and friendly.  Wait, I know how to be two ways: nice, friendly...and helpful.  No, wait...

All references to Monty Python aside, what the hell?  We're in this together.  Why not be nice to your fellow comics?

You don't have to give advice, you don't have to help them get booked, you don't have to buy them a drink.  But, why wouldn't you at least be friendly, or, at the very least, pleasant to your fellow comics?

In an earlier post, Hell of a Nice Guy, I wrote about how you heard one thing over and over when John Pinette passed away:  how extremely nice he was.

I encourage you to read that post.  I'm about to stop writing this post at the risk of repeating everything that's in that post.

I just don't understand why me being nice and helpful to a fellow comic was hailed as unique.

It shouldn't be.

One of the top reasons you bomb(ed)

If you're one of the two people following my blog, waiting for the next post, I apologize for the recent delay.  I've been doing some road gigs, got a new radio show and have started writing for a website called Absrdcomedy.com (click here to see all of my articles).

Assuming you accept my apology, my latest post appears below:

***
I recently saw a newer comic start off a set with inside comedy jokes; jokes to comedians, for comedians, about the inner workings of comedy.

I'm not giving details because I have no interest in having anyone think they know who I'm talking about.  I'm not trying to bad mouth the comedian; this is for comics, in general.

A little bit after that, I was talking to the booker of a pretty nice room about an upcoming date, and we ended up having a half-hour conversation about comedy and comedians, also in general.  The booker's main issue was that newer comics today all seem to be playing TO comedians; their jokes are aimed at their group, peers, open mic cliques, etc.

From my perspective, I have to agree with him.

I don't know any numbers; I can't say it's all, or most newer comics...but, I do see a lot of it.

In my previous posts, Are you screwing up your open mic? and 6 Tips for a Great Open Mic, one of the things I focus on is cliques, and the inside jokes that come from them, and how they are detrimental to a comic's career.

As I started writing this post, I became aware of a very cool article by Joe Deez, The 3 Best Things to Know in Open Mic Comedy, that I highly recommend you also read.  You'll notice he hits on the clique issue, as well.

When you're on the stage at an open mic, you usually have a very short amount of time...usually three to five minutes.  Why then, would you waste even a second on inside jokes that won't play to general audiences?

Worse, yet, is when you don't know the difference, like the comic I referenced above.  Your clique members all laugh, and no one knows, or tells you, that when you play a real gig those jokes are going to be met with crickets (crickets, for the uninitiated, is the imagined sound you would hear due to the dead silence of the non-laughing audience...it's not good).

Ka-boom!

The issue, in general, is knowing your audience.  That goes for every comic at every level.  There are some legendary videos of great, even famous, comics bombing horribly because they didn't know their audience.

One time, I was closing a show out of state, and while I was watching the other comics, the thought that this audience wouldn't like me crept into my head.  During my set, almost right out of the chute, I defensively said something that wasn't insulting, by any means, but that distinctly pointed out that I wasn't a native.

As soon as I said it, I knew it was bad news.  I could literally feel the audience's mood shift.  It took a little bit of an effort to get them back on my side.

Lesson learned.  If you're going to say something that separates the audience from you geographically, especially if you're from a neighboring (see: rival) state, you should get them on your side first!

A little after Superstorm Sandy hit the east coast, I was asked to play The Borgata with Uncle Floyd for a weekend to fill in because they had to reschedule Jay Mohr's shows.

On the first night, in the middle of his set, Floyd threw out a couple of one liners that fell flat.  It didn't phase him one bit.  He just strummed on his infamous acoustic guitar and said something along the lines of, "Okay, you're not coming with me.  All right, I'll find you.  I got a million of 'em. I'll find where you are.  You'll laugh at something."

Just saying that caused the audience to laugh and loosen up.

Floyd showed vulnerability, which equals likability.  More importantly, he made it about himself and not about the audience.  He didn't fight them, he didn't get upset with them for not laughing at jokes he's probably killed with thousands of times over forty plus years.

Too many comics blame the audience, and you can't.  You have to know your audience, or find them.

Yes, there are nights when it really is the audience.  Shitty comics before you, weird happenstances, odd occurrences, whatever.  Sometimes, just the fact that the audience is small can make it difficult.

But you can't function as if any of that's true.  You have to get to their level.  They don't know anything about this industry.  They paid for a ticket to a comedy show.  They don't know that because the comic before you bombed they're now going to be a tougher laugh.

It's your job to make them laugh.


There are comics who don't like to follow great acts, there are comics that don't like to follow shitty acts.

There are gamblers who believe you screwed up their hand when you came into the middle of their blackjack game.  How do they know?  How do they know that if you didn't play your hand just then, they wouldn't have lost anyway?

My point is, it shouldn't matter.

If the comic before you bombed, start off with some crowd work, or hit them with one of your best jokes in your set.

If the comic before you killed, start off with some crowd work, or hit them with one of your best jokes in your set.

Yeah, I wrote the same thing for both instances.  That's the point.

Crowd work can loosen up a tight audience and tighten up a loose audience.  By loose audience, I mean an audience that has been laughing hard and long at the previous act.  They might appear more talkative, they might feel free to get up, they might just be laughing so much that your normal first three minutes might get lost on them.

Read the audience, adjust to the audience based on how the show is going, and make sure your material is relatable...to people who aren't just comics.
***
Tomorrow night, great show in Somers Point, NJ with The LoveMaster, Craig Shoemaker!

Comedy comes down to one thing...

No matter what you do, say or think, the only thing you can do to improve as a comic is to get on stage.

Yes, you should tape yourself and watch the tape.  Yes, you should have other comics, preferably vets, critique you.  Yes, you need to write often, if not daily.  But none of that matters, and some of it doesn't even happen, if you don't get on stage.

Duh, Scott.  I've heard that since I got into comedy.  Okay, gentle reader, but do you really know it?  Do you really know the progression involved in developing your act as it pertains to stage time?

In a previous post, Frustrated Part 2: Get Real In The Present, I did the math of how much stage time you actually amass during a year when doing sets.

Short recap:  if you had a 15 minute set every Friday & Saturday for a year, that would only equal 26 hours of stage time.

That's not a full work week.  That's not even the legal minimum amount of hours in a work week for you to still qualify as a full time employee (30).  And that's over the course of A FULL YEAR!

Have you ever put it into perspective like that?

Have you ever really looked at how much time you've put into your comedy career, in terms of time on stage?

Simple formula:  Add up the total minutes of all your sets in a year and divide it by 60.  That will give you the total number of hours you've been on stage for the year.

Hint:  It may shock you how small the number is.  If a headliner worked two shows every weekend for a year that would only equal 78 hours on stage...for the year.

And, while there is definitely something to the accumulation of total stage time, you know how rusty you are if you go a week or two between gigs.  It's like you went back a step.  God forbid you go a month between gigs.  Although, I think I've gone the longest...

Our hero photo bombing a soda bottle in 1990...and, yeah, French cuffed jeans

Back when I had hair, and really big glasses, I started doing stand up comedy at Montclair State College (now University).  I started at an all-types open mic in the fall of 1989, where I went on just after a band that gave the finger to the student club people running the show because they weren't going to be limited to just eight minutes, and just before a freshman girl singing a Barbara Streisand song.

I did another open mic a few months later and then I was asked to MC a battle of the bands (sidebar:  Don't. Ever. Host a battle of the bands.  If you've ever thought about doing comedy while high school seniors and college kids are screaming for their favorite band to come on, while you have to kill time between bands setting up, stab yourself in the neck with a fork and watch Dancing with the Stars in super slow motion.  You will still have had a better night than I did).

After that, I was asked to MC each of the five summer 1990 and 1991 Freshman Orientation Weekend comedy shows, partly, I'm sure, because I was a Freshman Orientation Counselor.  These shows featured three college circuit comedians, booked by Tony Camacho, who's now in Las Vegas.  You'll likely recognize names like Bob Nelson and Ralph Harris.

I also found a comedian's open mic Friday nights at a deli called Something Different in Bloomfield, NJ.

Tony told me he was going to start booking me at local clubs, but I hesitated, and eventually ended up getting an over-night radio show, and essentially walked away from comedy for twenty years.  Twenty years.  Two decades.

In that time, I worked steadily in radio, and various other business ventures.  Got married, twice, had kids, etc.

Then I decided I didn't want to say that I used to do standup comedy anymore.

Immediately upon making that decision, I lucked into my first gig (it was paid, too!).  I was asked to do a ten minute set inside my radio listener market at a 500 person fundraiser, at a theater, opening for two Philadelphia radio and comedy legends.  No pressure.  Yeah.

I'd like to tell you I did open mics leading up to the gig, but being on a morning show at the time, it was tough to get out late and miss something important like getting at least four hours of sleep a night.

I did the next best thing I could, I literally bored the crap out of my best friend who would listen to me do my set over the phone three times a week for six weeks.  God bless him for still laughing at the punchlines after the third time he heard the set.

The set went okay.  I've been on stage before, handled a crowd and a microphone, and, hey, I had some experience at comedy twenty years prior, right?  There were some friends and family in the audience, so I'm sure those courtesy laughs helped me get more real laughs.

But, later after viewing the tape I whittled the set down to 3:15 of highlights.  To this day, I still think there's only about 1:30 of good material, maybe.

I wasn't a total newbie because of my prior experience.  I had energy, confidence, personality and some decent jokes (or premises).  But, like all newbies, I had lots and lots of set up.  A lot of my stuff was much too wordy leading up to a punchline.

After that gig, I found a couple of local bookers, who were likely more into my potential reach as a radio host than my talents as a comedian, and rightly so at the time.  Ultimately, through practicing, guest spotting, gigging, networking, being nice, paying it forward (like I talk about in previous blog posts), and good fortune, I was able to get to where I am today...which is much further along than I was when I started either time, but nowhere near close to where I want to be.

I don't mean where I want to be in terms of level of success and fame, obviously I'd like to be more successful than I am.  I'm talking about my level of comedy.

22 years later at The Borgata, Atlantic City, NJ...without the French cuffed jeans...or hair

Every time I watch a tape of myself I see how horrible I did.  Okay, that's a little bit of an exaggeration.  I'm consistently hired and hired back by clubs and bookers, I play some pretty great venues, I know I'm funny...but I'm not as funny as I think I can, or should, be.  I see massive flaws, even with the jokes, bits or sets that totally crush all the way through.

So, what do I do, besides drink heavily to make the voices stop?

Well, what do you do?  Do you keep getting on stage?  Do you tape your sets (and then watch them)?  Do you ask for and accept critiques from veteran comics?  Do you keep writing?  Do you do it over and over and over again, rinse and repeat?

Can you honestly say you're doing everything you should to be a successful as you say you want to be?

It all comes down to one thing...getting on stage as much as possible, as often as possible.

Rinse and repeat.

Where are you going with this comedy thing?

 So, you're a stand up comic.  What does that mean?

Potentially, you could be Jim Norton selling out clubs and theaters wherever you go, or you could be an open mic comic.  You could be an A-room road comic headliner, traveling the country, or you could be the local club MC.  You could be a headliner in your surrounding area; or you could be a feature that's stuck in between MCing some clubs, can't do too many road gigs because not all clubs give rooms to features so your pay would get eaten up, and occasionally closing bar gigs.  You could be a college/corporate maven making big money per gig, or you could be running your own room so you get stage time.  You could be in New York, running the club circuit taking guest spots and multiple $25, fifteen minute spots a night to pay the rent; or you could be...okay, you get my point.

Being a stand up comic means a lot of different things.

There are designations we use that go in front of "stand up comic", such as "newbie", "working", "full-time", or "famous"; however, the public doesn't typically know the difference, except if you're famous.  Typically, if you say you're a stand up comedian, people on the street don't know if you're fresh out of comedy class or headlining a casino.

Ironically, the great equalizers are perception and likability.  Generally, a name comic is going to be given more latitude because people expect them to be funny.  Many of their shows are filled with people who bought tickets just to see them.  Or, if the comic pops into a club unannounced, their track record and the good will created by someone of their ilk deigning to show up at this club usually begets laughs.

Holy shit was that last sentence pretentiously written!  What I meant to say is that if Jerry Seinfeld suddenly showed up at a club, the audience would go nuts and would likely laugh if he just sneezed.

Conversely, the rest of us don't get that kind of leeway.  That's not to say famous, successful comics didn't earn it.  My point is that the average fundraiser crowd doesn't know, nor care, who the headliner is at their $35 a ticket, spaghetti and meatball buffet, Chinese auction, comedy show fundraiser for the high school girls lacrosse team.  They don't know the MC, either, but might like him/her better.

In other words, if you're an MC and you did a fundraiser show with Lisa Lampanelli as the announced headliner, Lisa would get laughs before she got on stage.  But, if you're the unknown headliner (clubs, bars, fundraisers, occasional corporate/college gig), you have to bring your A-game because the crowd will just be judging you as you compare to the other comics who just performed.

So, you can never really stop doing your best.  Don't intentionally mail in a show, no matter how shitty the gig is.

Sometimes, we can't control the situation.  We're not feeling well, the show stinks, the audience is lame, whatever the reason (or excuse) we have a bad set.  As long as that pisses you off and causes you to try to make the next set your best set ever, you'll be just fine.

Be that as it may, I'd like you to ask yourself where you're going with this comedy ride you're on?  Maybe you have a clear picture where you want to go, as I mentioned in my post about goals.  Maybe you don't.  If you don't, please read my 4-part Frustrated series of posts.

Regardless, you might know where you'd like to be, but do you know what it entails?  Do you know what you'll have to go through to get there?  Do you want to do what it takes?

The idea for this post came to me on a Saturday afternoon on the road between shows.  I was in a comedy condo, flipping through the TV channels, with about seven hours until the show (if you've never stayed in a comedy condo, many times that's an eye-opening experience in, and of, itself).

My daughter's just getting old enough for things like sports and cheerleading.  Is she going to be okay with me missing her events because, "Daddy's away somewhere telling jokes"?  Am I going to be okay with it?

The other day my wife joked about an opportunity that came to me possibly leading to me announcing for the Philadelphia Phillies, something I've always said I wanted to do.  It was a joke, because the two had nothing to do with each other.  However, the reality is that I'd be away from my family for more than half of the year, each year.  Sure, I can be home some during home stands, but they play baseball on Memorial Day, Father's Day, July 4th and Labor Day, not to mention weekend games.

My point is we need to get a line on our goals, start to understand what achieving our goals will take and figuring out if we're willing to do what's needed to achieve them.

I work with a lot of frustrated comics, and that's not just because most comics seem to have emotional issues.  I think it's safe to say, most comics are not happy with their status in the comedy world.

While I've written before about being willing to do what it takes, e.g. go to multiple open mics, guest spots, driving far for low or no pay gigs, writing every day, etc., I don't know how many comics think about what else it would take...and if they're willing to do that.

By happenstance, and the luck of geography, I'm producing my first (and maybe only) show, and it's with Craig Shoemaker.

What's significant about this, besides Shoe's huge list of credits (TV, movies, stand up specials, etc.), is that he is retiring from road gigs at the end of this year.  After years and years of going on the road, across the country, Craig has decided to stay close to his home in California, do his radio show and whatever else he wants to do from the proximity of his home, to be with his family.

Shoe comes to lil ole Somers Point, NJ

Some of us comics wish we had Craig's career.  Some of us wouldn't have gone on the road to begin with.  That is your choice to make.

I encourage you to make your choice, and OWN your choice.

If you want to be a local only comic who has a day job and never really leaves the area, more power to you.  Just don't get mad when you only have a certain amount of gigs.

If you want to be a road comic, and deal with all it entails...get on the road.  I just spoke to a comic who drove from the New York area to Cleveland, slept in his car, just so he could do a guest spot at a big club in Cleveland.  After the set he was passed at the club and never went back there.  He just wanted to do it.

What are you willing to do?

Where are you going with this comedy thing?


P.S. If you want to see Shoe in action (something for the bucket list) you can buy tickets below.  Sorry, friends and fellow comics, I can't comp you because it's a door deal and I'd like my family to be able to eat.

A TV Pilot? You Just Never Know

Last week, I had the good fortune of co-starring with New Jersey's Bad Boy of Comedy, Mike Marino, in his TV pilot, RECONSTRUCTING JERSEY.

It was an awesome experience!

Along with Mike, I got to work with actors like Ronnie Marmo from General Hospital and movie actor Cylk Cozart (who also directed the show); comedian/actors like Michael Wheels Parise of  Rollin' with Dice and Wheels...The Podcast (yeah, that Dice...Andrew Dice Clay) and the lovely and talented Sunda Croonquist (who played my wife!); and legends like New Jersey's own Uncle Floyd.

Me, on the left along with most of the cast and crew

While I fully hope and expect to have my publicist's assistant typing these blog posts in the near future because I'll be too busy after I accept my Emmy for best supporting actor in a sit-com, our Emmy for best comedy and our Golden Globe for best new show on television, I know it could end up just being a great experience.  An experience where I met and worked with some really great and very professional people, cast and crew.  And, maybe I'll get to use it as a credit for comedy intros for a few months.

I'm leaning towards a ten season network run, but that's just me.  What can I say?

Either way, it was unbelievable.  And, I had to get out of a weekend gig I had booked months ago in a club I hadn't played before.

Even if the club never lets me in (and I hope they do!!), it was well worth it.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, for one thing, it's my blog, so if you don't like it you can go pound sand!

The other reason I'm telling you is because I want you to know that you just never know.

Mike Marino and me in AC 2012

I first met Mike a couple of years ago.  He was scheduled to call in to my morning radio show to promote his one-nighter at The Borgata in Atlantic City.  Near the end of the call-in I half-jokingly asked him to let me open for him, and he kindly invited me to the show, and back stage.  However, I had a gig already, so Mike told me to meet him at Tony Boloney's pizza shop in AC the day after the show, as he would be shooting some DVD extra stuff.

I have to tell you, I almost didn't go.  Not that I didn't want to, but I kind of felt that Mike was just being nice, and I might get in the way.

Boy was I wrong!  Mike wasn't just being nice.  He had me co-star as myself in his caper scenes where he "stole" the Tony Baloney's delivery truck, which can be seen on his DVD Live From The Borgata Casino Atlantic City, NJ.

A couple of months later, Mike got me a guest spot in a club I hadn't gotten into myself.  And, over the next couple of years, Mike would check in with me from time to time to see how things were going, and to let me know when he'd be back in Jersey, as he was based in L.A.

Meanwhile, I was doing my comedy thing, ultimately working my way into The Borgata myself (shameless plug: see me there the week of June 23rd).

Then seemingly out of the blue, because it had been months since we last talked, Mike called and asked me to be in his pilot.  Okay, it's Mike Marino, NJ's Bad Boy of Comedy...he more like TOLD me I'm going to be in his pilot.

The Crew - me, Wheels, Mike & Ronnie

YOU JUST NEVER KNOW

In this business of comedy and entertainment, you absolutely have to hone your craft and be the best you can be.  Sadly, however, that's usually not enough.  There are thousands of comics and actors who are very good at what they do, but no one really knows it.

But you also have to put yourself in the right place at the right time.  I know, that isn't easy.  Hell, it's not even something you can predict.  Yet, I had a hand in getting into this pilot, two years ago, by asking Mike to open for him and showing up when he invited me to film DVD extra's in AC.

If I never asked him, I wouldn't have been invited.  And, if I went with my initial feeling and didn't show up, I'd never have gotten the guest spot, the subsequent friendship, and the call for this pilot.  Mike's a very generous person, but he's not going to call someone who blew off his invite and didn't bother to show up.

In other words, I put myself in a position to be in the right place at the right time.  They say it's not who you know, but who knows you.  And because of our relationship, Mike knew me to call me.

UNCLE FLOYD, Cylk Cozart, me

You always need to network at every one of your shows.  I love working with the comics I know and love, but I really love working with comics I've never worked with before, because it's a potentially new relationship of friendship and mutual assistance.

Yes, mutual.  Networking isn't trying to get what you can out of people, it's doing what you can to help THEM.  To bring back the quote from my post about the late John Pinette:  Hell of a Nice Guy , motivational speaker and business trainer Zig Ziglar said, "You can have everything in life you want, if you will just help other people get what they want."

I always try to get my fellow comics booked, or at least get them in front of someone who can book them.  It's not always an eye for an eye, so to speak.  You might not be in a position to help the comics you meet.  Lord knows there's not much I can do for Mike, comic to comic.  But, you can be their friend, take their advice, come see their shows without any thought of getting anything out of it, other than relationship.  And, you can help other comics...you know, pay it forward.

Comedian Mike Eagan, who has been a tremendous friend and help in the business, has always only asked one thing of me:  that I pay it forward.  Help other comics whenever I can.  He doesn't know this, but the first time we ever met, at a gig, was an indirect link to this pilot.  Consequently, he got me into the club for the gig I had to cancel to do the pilot and I was apprehensive about telling him.  But, true to form, Mr. Eagan told me I had to do the pilot and not to worry about cancelling the gig.

If I ever make it big in comedy and/or Hollywood, the list of people I will need to thank is long...but I know every single name on it.  I am extremely grateful for the people who have given me advice, a leg up, an intro, a spot...or a part in a TV pilot.

I also know that it didn't just magically happen because these people simply met me, or that I was entitled to it.  These people had to like me.  They had to see me do well and take my craft seriously.  They had to see how I work with, and help, others.  We had to have a relationship, so when the timing was right they would think of me.

Sunda Croonquist & me hamming it up

At the risk of sounding holier than thou from atop my soap box, go do something.  If you're the type of comic who's only in it for themselves, people will see you as a taker and not really want to work with you.  If you only hang out with your same comedy club or open mic friends, you're going to be stuck there.

If you're reading this and you are jealous of me, or coming up with reasons why I got in this pilot (he  must have dirty pictures of someone), then you missed the point entirely.  I don't ask that you're happy for me, but maybe you can use this as a catalyst to put yourself out there.  Expand your horizons.  Show up early to your shows, watch the whole show regardless of your status in the show and network with the other comics.

And if you can't put them in a pilot, or get them into a club, that's totally fine.  Just be nice to them.  Maybe bounce ideas of off them.  Be interested in THEM and not in what you can get out of them.

Maybe one day down the road you'll get a call.  It could be a gig, or a booker that someone referred to you.  It could be someone looking to you for help with a new bit.  Hell, it could be a pilot, or a movie.  Or, maybe it's just someone who needs your help or wants your friendship.

You just never know.

Ronnie, me, Wheels & Mike Marino (on phone)

 Photo credits:  All Reconstructing Jersey cast and crew photos by Richard Hoynes