I did not win the $1000 at the 80 person weekend shoot out. I had one person in the crowd, but that didn’t matter. I realized something – it is harder for me to do five minutes than 30. I tried to cram five jokes into five minutes, chopping up two pretty badly. Plus, with a minute to go, I tried to wedge my two minute joke about a mentally handicapped man shaking his mule at me in the set. I got laughs, but not best of 20 comics in the finals laughs. I blew it.
What is funny is watching everyone’s faces (I went last) as they come out. Almost everyone in a finals looks like an eight year old that found out how Mom and Dad made them. Confused, regretful, tired and empty from the lost innocence. About three came out and felt strong about their sets, which on all three was a steely eyed glare, pursed lips, and a “Hell yeah!” head nod motion. Only one of the three that did that made the top three. I love listening to why comics rationalize their sets, good or bad. One guy said his family being there distracted him (how dare they support him), another mentioned there were too many old people. Yet another said they wore the wrong outfit. Should have went with the pimp suit, friend. Oh, tales of regret and opportunities lost. At least I still have my other gigs and Jamboree in the Hills this month.