the bruised egos of comedy
Hope Was Lost In Astoria, 2024
Written 03/09/25; Revised 03/11/25 for spelling/grammer mistakes and to add additional context.
I love comedy. I think laughter is one of the purest forms of joy to evoke from anyone, and when I watch great comedians like Robin Williams or Nikki Glaser do a set, I thoroughly enjoy and respect their ability to conduct a narrative without hiccup.
I began going to more comedy events recently; in 2023, I saw Liza Treyger at Wise Guys in like, West Jordan, Utah or some shit. I found her comedy like I find most comedians these days: through social media. I saw one of her bits that had a really good punch at the end about the state of Arizona, something to the effect of rich men owning boats; I can't remember it fully, but watching her perform, I could tell she had that special knack to handle a performance in front of a large crowd and keep the rhythm. So I was excited to see her live when she came out there, as fucking no one plays in Utah, for obvious reasons. And her performance was great; I thought that her deliveries were spot on, she wasn’t reading cues or notes, and she kept the story consistently going. She also had an appreciation for the Simpsons, and being a fan of the Simpsons myself, I found a connection to her work even more so now.
Lisa The Simpson, from my series Saturdays of Thunder (2021). The series pays homage to random phrases, scenes and references from the Simpsons, one of my favorite TV shows (seasons 1-9 only though, pop!)
When I relocated to Astoria this past fall, I found that there was local comedy joint that had some notoriety; Pete Davidson played there, as well as a few others. And I'd attend and mainly play my guitar; at that point, even though I had done an open mic or two in Utah at Wise Guys and another local one on Sundays, I felt music was more important to me; I felt more conviction and satisfaction with it than attempting to make people laugh. When I would do bits, I would rehearse them religiously until I had the whole premise down. I'd dissect delivery, consider how I would transition from subject to subject, how to read the room if the bit wasn't delivering and how to recover from that, and so forth. I remember I wrote one bit that went for like, a good five minutes, and I remember having to do it in a different area because the guy that ran the set forgot about me and had to have me perform outside. And then someone asked me to do it again, and I did, without hiccup. I don’t know how I was able to speak so fluidly and cohesively, but I did. But I didn’t care for it, even though I got some good laughs; I’d mock my dick size or talk about how I like fat women, how I slept with a married woman and had a brat summer; whatever dude; if I could describe my comedy as anything, it would be self-deprecating; I felt more interest in mocking myself than mocking others. So I just went with it, and it was alright. But I liked the feeling of music better. I could do more with it; there was more range, I could do bits in between songs; it just fit me better. I also felt like comedy can is toxic; it seems to breed people that have an interest in continuously mocking and belittling things; vanity is prevalent without question. At least with music, the array of emotion is more diverse, as opposed to comedy, which, well, is just about humor. I don’t want to be one dimensional.
A poet performing at the Artistic Underground in downtown Salt Lake City, UT. I would attend these every Sunday, which is where my interest in playing music was reignited after doing a few comedy bits.
As I would attend these open mics, at various locations throughout Astoria, I'd find that most of those performing were full of shit. They'd read notes on stage, forget their lines, they'd rely on crowd speak, they'd have awkward pauses; it was just all bad dude. And then seeing Liza again in Brooklyn the other month, where I think I paid nearly $40 to enter the Bell House, I found her reading bits on stage. "What in the blue fuck is this? And she has a Netflix special? Really?" I said to myself, defeated and losing respect for someone that I, initially, thought had IT. I mean she did acting bits too, but so did a few others; to be honest, most of SNL is fed through a teleprompter, as are most forms of professionally produced comedy, that is, except really for stand up. And I think that is the most brilliant, daring, exciting means of comedy. To me, if you can kill it doing stand up, you can do anything. Like you’re a fucking pro if you can do a set like Jenny did in her Jen Z special; she smoked the house for a good hour dude. Live in the cut, with just you, a mic, a room of people and your story.
And there are dudes like Ron Taylor, Al Flynn, Troy Bond, I could go on and on about how many are in the making to become comedy geniuses currently, but equally are a bunch of bullshit artists that can’t seem to hold water. What story are you going to tell that will make me laugh? Where does it lead? What is the premise of the joke and its significance? Do any of you comedians actually think like this? Or are you just using comedy as an outlet because you can't afford a therapist?
Hope Was Lost In Astoria, 2024
The most baffling thing about this community is the bruised ego complex. God fucking forbid you compliment a comedian after a set, it's like committng murder. I just read a Thread post where a female comedian was complaining about male comedians saying to them, "good set". As if the premise of a compliment coming from a male to a female can only either constitute a man mocking you or them coming on to you. This is the bruised ego mentality that seems to be prevalent in almost EVERY comedian I have encountered though; what in the fuck is wrong with you? Did you not get hugged enough as a child that when someone approaches you and makes a nice gesture, you instantly become guarded because you have some wild ass trauma? It is literally the most disappointing thing in the world when you meet some you admire and they turn out to be an asshole. They think you want something from them; I don’t know what it is, I honestly can’t describe it man. It leaves me speechless at times wondering how anyone could take a compliment as a bad thing; anytime someone compliments me it A.) makes me feel so fucking good about myself B.) prompts me to profusely thank them with excitement and maybe talk to them if they’re interested in that. I didn’t know that that isn’t the thing you’re supposed to do when you talk to people about their work but, fuck me, right?
A comedian I photographed at Medusa Studios. Often these performers, despite being touted as good comedians, were unable to remember bits, would have awkward lapses in their sets, and relied on crowd speak. They’d often be condescending when approach in person and apprehensive towards praise.
Newsflash there, Bob, not everyone is demeaning you nor is every man looking to fuck you. Calm down, read a book, and rehearse your shit. It is so exhausting seeing social media stars, like Jessie Lee from Brooklyn, who acts like a complete psychopath in her videos but fails to keep that same momentum and ability live in person. Her performances are absolutely brilliant and dissect all the abnormalities we often encounter in our day to day.
I saw her a few months ago, and again, she was another note reader. "You can't be fucking serious", I whispered to myself as Jessie began to pull out her phone and check her set. “Why am I paying for this? Like fuck dude, come on!”, I grunted. I paid like $20 to see the show, $8 for a fucking beer, and was treated like an asshole by most of the staff and patrons because, you know how I look, and I don’t fit in anywhere in Brooklyn. At all. Ever.
Troy Bond at the 2021 Sopranocon hosted at Harrahs in Atlantic City, NJ.
I wanted to approach her and compliment her set regardless, because again, I did think she was talented, a lot of her bits did make me laugh, but I didn't, because after her show was over, she was feverishly having her photo taken, and I honestly could already read her demeanor; totally obsessed with her image and being in the spotlight. It was like second-hand embarrassment. She, without question, fit that same bruised ego comedian, and I did not dare want to subject myself to the condescending vibe that she would emit if I spoke a word to her. How dare some lowly little fuck boy like me approach a social media sensation with nearly 100K followers? I am beneath her, as I am beneath pretty much all of you in your eyes, and mine too. Me talking to someone like Jenny Zigrino makes no sense (I once offered to make her a pizza, whoops), because her and I are not in the same fucking sport in terms of what each other are; and I mean that as not slight to Jenny, it’s more towards myself, because again, I know who I am. I work a 9-5 in the plumbing game, and I do this shit for fun. That’s it. Some of you have a hard time grasping that for some reason, and I am really not sure why. (that’s a lie, I do.)
Hope Was Lost In Astoria, 2024
I want to add though, that this candor goes across the board for anyone, regardless of gender or sexual orientation or anything. I had crossed paths with Joey Rinaldi a few years after a Sopranocon convention, and at first, we hit it off great. We had the same sense of humor, we shot a bunch of photos there, and I kept in touch with him and attended a few of his stand ups, which I photographed as well. He offered to then compensate me for some additional photos and video, which I obliged as I wanted to support him. When we discussed money, I didn’t hit him over the head, rather, I wanted to help. “Whatever you can handle dude,” I said to him when we discussed compensation. But after Joey tried to stiff me on a lousy $50 to send him a couple 100 photos that I shot of him at one of his shows, I had to resort to ripping him a new asshole for him having the expectation that I provide him ALL the video that I shot as well. For free. You fuckers seem to be really ungrateful.
Joey Rinaldi at the 2021 Sopranocon
I vowed to myself after Treyger's show that I wasn't going to go to any more comedy shows because they just disappoint the fuck out of me. For some reason I seem to be the most unlikeable schmuck on the planet, and that isn’t me victimizing myself, I’m just calling it as it is. I reached out recently to Troy Bond, as we had met previously as well, and I was ignored. I had tried to be nice and conversate with Jenny Zigrino, who was at one point one of my favorite comedians, and her candor to me was so fucking disappointing. Like honestly, Jenny, do you really think I would hit on you like that? You? Of all people? Really? Come on dude, you're a 10 and I'm a soft 4; why in the world you'd like think that is beyond me. I like your work; you're naturally funny and I thought that your last set was brilliant. I only offered to take your portrait because I thought it would be cool to photograph a comedian that I admired. My bad bro, my bad. I still think you’re funny though, and, honestly, I truly do hope that all of these comedians that I may bitch about succeed. Well, except for one…
A musing of Alice Wetterland’s threat to hit me with her car that she made on Threads after I mocked her for riding all of her comedy on the premise of shitting on men.
Earlier this year, comedian Alice Wetterland, who has a role on the show Silicon Valley, as well as a member of the Upright Citizens Brigade, thought it would be cool to threaten to hit me with her car and mace me after I had poked fun at her for pretty much only doing bits where she shits on men. So I went to the cops, and they told me they would arrest her over it, because it is considered aggravated harassment. When I arrived at the 114th precinct, I explained my situation to one of the officers. “Let me see your phone,” she asked me. And as I turned it over, she began to read Alice’s message, with her eyes widening, confirming my suspicion that what she did was, well, illegal. You can’t threaten people like that anymore and get away with it. “Who is she?”, the officer said. “I mean, how does she know you?”, she followed up. “She doesn’t, dude, she’s some random celebrity comedian that was on some HBO show or some shit.”, I replied with embarrassment. Can you believe this shit? Like I can’t even make this up; here’s me, some fucking loser that works a 9-5 and just likes to make shit, potentially being able to have some celebrity comedian arrested. Maybe it was karma for my experience with you know who; nonetheless, I took the mature route, and after the defective called me and said, “hey, so you can either have her arrested the next time she is in the city, or you can drop the charges, just let me know.” I asked him if I could have some time to think it over, and I did, and I reached a conclusion. “If I get this bitch arrested, not only is she going to cause a social media shit storm on me, she’s gonna use it in her next act because this would be just TOO perfect to not fit into her already bullshit routine.” That was what was going through my head; as villainized as I was by these people, I actually have empathy for them. Fuck me, right? So I dropped the charges and I let it go; ain’t nobody got time for this shit, pop.
From the series Wonderland; the still life contains the police report receipt for Wetterlund’s threat, which the detective deemed an arrestable offense. I had the charges dropped in fear of social media retribution and did not want to contribute to any of her future bits or writing.
Moving forward, I am going to keep to my word about this. I was going to these open mics recently at Medusa Studio, which is located right next to my apartment building (now you fuckers know where I live); they'd host these free Tuesday night BYOB comedy sessions, suggesting that some top names would be there that had been on Netflix or whatever other claim to fame that comedians seem to strive for. And every show I went to, I couldn't seem to find one comedian that could keep their shit together. I'd take photos and they'd mock me for that. I'd laugh and they'd mock me for that. They'd do crowd speak for 90% of the set; they'd forget their jokes and they would bomb and not know how to recover, taking hard left turns to save them from the burning inferno that they eventually will find themselves in. I went back one last time after revising the op-ed, as I noticed I did big fuck up pop and had some grammar mistakes; sorry about that, I am not a professional. But just to confirm, I went again, and as I sat in the back corridor to avoid being interacted with, I watched my critiques play out in person. Within minutes, the first comedian was doing crowdspeak, checking notes and saying, “okay, so what am I gonna talk about next?”. I walked past the host, Sam Bilksy, who had rejected my offer to be apart of a Superbowl party that I had attempted to host that failed at Medusa; and he looked at me as I was walking past him, a look of concern adorning his face, and attempted to give me a fist pump. I looked at him with dismay, tired and uninterested to engage in someone that I knew had no respect for me; I somberly gave him the fist bump back and a soft nod. I get up every day at 4 or 5 AM, and work an incredibly fast paced, hectic, stressful day job that I really never wanted to do; it is accompanied with very toxic behavior and abuse riddled right in between like a sandwich; I am already well fed with bullshit behavior and wild ass characters with ego’s bigger than KC. When I come home, I want to enjoy myself and my peace. I do not need any of you disturbing that just because I have qualms about your behavior and conduct and choose to make art and work about how I feel about anyone.
My suggestion to all of you that are considering themselves comedians: please seek therapy like me. I know I am fucked up; I know I have problems and I know I need help with my mental health. A lot of you do too.
