What I learned from my first 10 years doing standup comedy

Jokes, jealousy, Jews, and the journey of being a comedian in New York City.

Originally published in 2016 right before I taped my debut standup album Hot Flashes.

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Just realized this:

December, 2006 = I do my first standup show

December, 2016 = I record my debut standup album

10 years. Ten fucking years. That’s what I’ve given to standup comedy. Or did it take it from me?

DUDE, WHERE’S MY KIDNEY?

The questions people usually ask: “Why’d you get started in comedy?” Because I wanted to tell the truth. I was never the class clown type. I’m kinda serious. But I love telling the truth and I realized that being funny was the best way to do it.

Another thing people ask: “Were your parents funny? Is that why you got into standup?” Nah, my parents aren’t why I do standup. In fact, my Mom hardly ever laughed at all. So, uh, oh…wait a minute. I do remember how much my dad loved Groucho Mark and Steven Wright. You could hear his laugh throughout the house when they were on the TV.

And I’d watch Bill Cosby and Eddie Murphy specials over and over. But the seed was really planted when I saw Chris Rock’s “Bring The Pain.” Still the best special ever in my book. It was like watching a magician. I wanted to know how to do that trick. Later, I’d listen to Mitch’s albums and Chappelle’s “Killing ’Em Softly” over and over with a coworker. It started to seep into my brain.

I wanted a taste. That’s why I started. Why’d I stay with it? Because it feels good. OK, it’s goddamn addictive. When it’s bad, it’s humbling. Everyone in the room knows you’re failing. It’s a raw, primal thing. But when it’s good, oh man, it’s really good. It’s like conducting a roomful of people in a symphony of joy. A maestro of laughter.

Either way, good or bad, it makes you feel alive. For someone who’s a bit, ahem, disconnected emotionally, that’s a powerful hit. Also, I crave validation. When it goes well, comedy gives me that. And it feels less selfish than other ways of seeking validation because you’re making people laugh. It feels like you’re giving back.

But oof, the beginning is rough. The open mic circuit. Microphones attract a lot of crazy. But also some really talented, hungry people. I think back to the people I started with. It reminds me of Band of Brothers. It’s a group of people who you share something with that you’ll remember forever. You’re bonded, like you’ve been in the trenches together.