advice for young comics
Now that I am a big-shot comic, some of the young bucks occasionally seek my counsel. For every up-and-comer I reach, there are many more out there wanting the benefit of my experience. For them, and the curious, I offer the following excerpts from my correspondence.
to pete holmes, who asked for help making business cards
7/23/2002
I've attached the Word document I use for my business cards. Just open it, place the cursor in the boxes, and insert your card. Then get some perforated business card paper. Then print on it. Then put some cards in your wallet. Then go to clubs and do guest sets. Then kill. Then shake the booker's hand and give him a card. Then go home and have victory sex with significant other. Then sleep. Then dream about sex with your hottest cousin (it's okay - it's only a dream!). Then have you and your hot cousin morph into a superhero team that have eye lightning and you go and zap all the people who were mean to you when you were a child. Then go into a deeper dreamless sleep. Then come up into dreaming again, this time about yourself living in a mansion sipping lemonade by the pool. Your butler comes over and it's Dave Matthews and he sings to you.
Wake up and turn off clock radio. Go to shitty job. Don't tell boss to die or make fun of his annoying mannerisms. Get paid. Buy groceries. Pay rent. Call bookers. Get voice mail. Hang up. Call again later. Finally get booker on the line. Remind him of your triumphant guest spot. Get booked for a weekend three months out. Act cool as if this happens all the time. Hang up phone, scream like a schoolgirl at a boy band concert. Dance around. Do the mashed potato. Wait for significant other to get home. Tell significant other that you got through to booker today. Say it with sad voice and expression so significant other will be expecting bad news. Then burst out with happy news! Lift significant other into the air and spin around. More victory sex.
Shower, eat, go to open mic, do new stuff, kill. Look at non-working open-mikers with newfound contempt. Be magnanimous. Offer unsolicited advice to anyone who will listen. Get drunk. Stumble home. Cross street to avoid potential mugger. Feel guilty because person avoided was a minority. Tell self you would have crossed if it had been a white guy of similar build and dress. Believe this. Get home. Throw up in toilet. Brush teeth. Sleep. Bide time 'til gig. Repeat as necessary for one to two years.
Gradually improve act and business card. Audition for festival. Get into festival. Get discovered by big name talent scout. Hand scout your snazzy business card. Accept profuse compliments gracefully. Do spot on Conan. Get sitcom. Get 6 picture deal. Retain foreign distribution rights. Get married. Move into mansion of your dreams. Make excuses when hot cousin tries to visit. Have children. Hire nanny. Play golf. Win Academy Awards. Try directing. Age gracefully. Play with grandkids. Get sick. Don't whine - you had a good run. On deathbed tell everyone you're gay (or if you are gay, tell everyone you're straight). Give convoluted phony directions to buried treasure. Die. Slip out of your earthly shell. Rise up as spirit into heaven. Organize cribbage tournaments to alleviate the crushing monotony. Wait for friends/loved ones to join you. Put in a good word for friends/loved ones in purgatory and hell. Party with friends/loved ones once they arrive. Get bored. Sign up for reincarnation. Come back as stick bug. Marvel at life's ironies.
to anita lauer, who wrote about the difficulty of being sexy and funny ...
i hear you, anita. it's tough being up there
trying to be smart and witty and feeling everybody looking up just thinking
about jumping your bones. i mean sometimes i like it (and sometimes i let em)
but i actually have a brain too, you know? i have things to say. can't it not
be about my looks for a little while?
ugly people don't understand how good they have it in some ways.
sometimes i think about getting plastic surgery to make myself less handsome so
i can just be treated like a regular person and know that the girls who sleep
with me are doing it not because i'm good-looking but because i'm a celebrity.
we live in a surface world, anita, and there's no way around it. you and i are
comics trapped in the bodies of supermodels and there's no way around it. i
just take it as a challenge to be so funny that they forget their desire or
jealousy for a while and just enjoy. good luck!
6/22/2002
to kevin mcpeek, who wrote "my ass is killing me...any advice?"
Dear kevin,
Take your head out.
3/4/2003
to tommy james, who asked if we should use contracts
Some comics insist on a contract, but they should know what they're signing. Recently I did a taping for a producer we'll call Ben M. and signed the release without reading it. Later I read it over and look what I found buried on page sixteen:
"I hereby grant Ben M. exclusive rights to anything I say or do for all perpetuity. I understand that the previously mentioned $1000 "payment" is in fact a loan, with an interest rate of prime + 29% (compounded daily). I promise to wash Ben M.'s car whenever he wants. I grant Ben M. right of "first night" on my wedding day. I agree, from this date forward, to eat only foods I don't like."
Man do I feel stupid! Read the fine print, folks.
7/11/2001
need advice?
email me your queries and perhaps i will answer them here...
want a second opinion?
how to be super hilarious, by uber-comic jason fever