Month: November 2011

Hanging out with Bill and Dan (http://billanddan.libsyn.com/) the other night reminded me of a story.  Almost every comic has been screwed on pay before at least once.  Not me, but close.  Here’s how it went down.

This guy showed up at an open mike and found out I was the emcee.  He then asked what number I was…I told him first, third, fifth, etc.  He didn’t get it, but asked me to emcee his room 35 miles from my house.  He wanted me to do it free, but me, being a ball buster, demanded $50.  I am useless.  Unbeknownst to me, he booked nine comics to do 15-20 each.  Disaster ensues…

The show sucked, he pulled a lot of newbs who had no business doing that much time.  We got through it, but afterwards he pulled me aside post-show.  “Bad take tonight, I couldn’t pay my bodyguards.”  Excuse me?  “Well, here’s how it is…”  He talked in circles as my hate grew like a cancer inside.  After several minutes of bullshit, he told me he couldn’t pay me.  I said, “You made two mistakes.  One, you told me you didn’t pay your bodyguards.  Two, don’t fuck with a hillbilly!”  I then two hand choked him violently.  He dropped to his knees, begging for quarter, but none was given.  As his eyes bulged, one hand trying to break my grip, the other hand produced a fifty dollar bill.  I grabbed it as he felt the sweet air filling his burdened lungs.  As my rage relented, I realized he was probably going to shoot me, so I ran out and threw gravel with my spinning tires.  My favorite moment was when the comics behind me asked, “Are we getting paid?”  Me: “That’s a you problem.”  Remember this, bookers and rogues – No one fucks Chris Coen.  Chris Coen does the fuckin’!

I went to check Shadowbox last night with my pals, comedians Dan Swartwout and Bill Arrundale to see our friend and comic Nickey Winkelman.  It was the Killer Blues show, great music and some funny and slightly weird bits.  It was a good time, except the 40 year old teenagers behind us who decided, after intermission, to use their outside voices.  I wrote “Bar’s outside” on a napkin I wanted to throw, but restrained myself.  Bill stepped up and told them to shut up, which gave me endless gratification.

Check out their podcast, also (The Bill and Dan show) – very funny, especially the two I’m in.  http://billanddan.libsyn.com/ These guys have well over 100 podcasts you can check out – and it’s legit funny.  My episodes were fun, but apparently my deviated septum breathing can be heard because my stupid self was too close to the mike.  Still worth it.

Sketch comedy is very different.  I personally don’t really enjoy doing it because obviously I don’t like working with others.  There’s a fine line between being nice and critical.  That’s what’s ironic about stand up.  Ask most people in America who their favorite comic is and they’ll name an actor 95% of the time.  That said, I am a horrible actor, can’t sing, and am not 5’6″, so I’ll probably never act.  Guess I’ll stick with stand-up – the pay sucks for either at this point.

– When you wake up and have to poop, it’s going to be a horrible day.

– People that litter in my parking lot.  Litter on the highway like a normal person.

– When my dog goes to poo and smells 14 spots, rolls around, and then circles an hour.  It’s 34 degrees out and only my ass is covered in hair.  Hurry up, Bean.

– New comics that say, “What’s tough about being a comic is…”  This is your 3rd show ever.  Shut up.

– Hippies.

– People that want attention at all costs.  I used to work with a guy who wouldn’t talk to anyone, but would go to funerals and act like he knew the deceased.  He’s dead now.  Karma, you sicko?

– People that don’t agree with me 100%.  You’re clearly wrong, just admit it.

I had a Halloween party this year.  I generally don’t like having parties, mostly because people bring other people I don’t know or like who steal my DVD’s, flip cigarette butts and beer caps around my place like they’re hiding Easter eggs, or in one case, jump off my balcony.  I bought some liquor for it, though.

Party went well, although Kroger’s sliders look nothing like the bag, unless you consider grey meat the same as the delicious looking brown it was supposed to be.  Plus, as a bonus, I decided to avoid mixing Jager, gin, and bourbon this year, so I held my stomach contents in, which was nice.  Ah yes, I managed to keep the creep rolling by being Jesus Quintana, aka “the Jesus” this year.