CHRIS COEN

If there are twenty lanes at a store, I will inevitably pick the one that takes the longest.  I picked the short line at Sam’s Club and was stuck behind a non-English speaker with an expired coupon.  I was one minute away from giving him whatever the coupon was worth out of my own pocket.  $400 off a bag of cheddar cheese?  Here it is.  Move along.

If I start a show or movie, my kid will wake up.  At the moment I typed this, I’ve seen half of Star Wars: Force Awakens.  If I sat and stared at the wall like a mental patient, she would sleep for nine hours straight.  In fairness, though, I’ll fall asleep if I try to watch a movie in one sitting.

If I’m doing a comedy show where I need to leave right afterwards, it starts late.  If I don’t care, it starts on time.  If someone approaches after a show and wants to buy a shirt, I don’t have the size they want.  If I drove to the show, there’s free beer.  If I get a ride, it’s a dry show.  Oh, and I get great gigs offered to me after I promised I would show up for a charity show.

If I go on a diet, someone brings cupcakes to work.  Or doughnuts.  Actually, who am I kidding – If I’m thinking about a diet, someone bring cupcakes or doughnuts to work.  I was really close though.

If I get my haircut, they will either not blow dry the hair off my face or gel my hair in a style that makes me look like an angry, bearded, mid-40’s soccer mom with short hair.

 

Here’s my take on our overrated and underrated America traditions.

Overrated:

Fireworks.  America didn’t defeat the British, or anyone, with Roman candles and black snakes.  The Star Spangled Banner is about the British rockets and bombs, not ours.  I appreciate the patriotism until my kid wakes up or all the times my dog had a stroke because some neighbor of mine who’s parents were too closely related decides to pound fourteen Beast Ices and blow a finger off.  Actually, don’t care about your finger; don’t wake my kid up.

Hot dogs.  Bratwurst is better.  Burgers are better.  It’s pig lips and buttholes.  The only worse meats are liver and whatever they made people eat on Fear Factor.

Underrated:

Independence Day.  Everyone calls it the Fourth of July; it’s Independence Day.  No one calls Christmas the 25th of December.  No one calls Easter whatever in the hell day it is – what’s the deal with that too, while we’re at it?  Pick a day.  Stupid changing holiday.  I didn’t get a day off work for a calendar number, I got it because we told a mentally ill king to stuff his powdered wig up his crazy ass!  USA!  USA!  USA!

Dr. Joseph Warren.  Look him up – probably would have been at least a VP.  Ordered the attack on Fort Ticonderoga that got the cannons to fight and expel the British at Boston.  Sent Paul Revere off to warn the minutemen.  Stood at Bunker Hill and wouldn’t retreat; had volunteered to fight in the most dangerous area of battle.  British hated him so much they mutilated his body after he was killed.  Known by less Americans today than the cast of Teen Mom.  Come on, America.

Budweiser America cans.  I thought Bud was alright, then they came out with their America cans.  Nothing fills you full of patriotism like hammering down 12 cold tall boys of freedom juice and yelling obscenities at your neighbors while shirtless.  DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, THIS IS AMERICA YOU DAMN COMMIE!  “I didn’t even say anything, sir.  Please stop yelling!”  SHUT UP IS RIGHT FREEDOM HATER!

Normally I dislike about 14-17% of the people I run into in person or online, but it’s a presidential election year, so that number is about 71% currently, thanks to my Facebook feed.  (I have a very expensive research team, don’t doubt my numbers).  We all have different life experiences, backgrounds and political leanings.  Don’t worry, though, Jerry from Pataskala has all the answers – just check out that meme he posted!  Seriously, here’s the worst trends so far this political season.

White people who constantly post about how racist all white people are.  This is a rather new phenomenon, but weird.  It usually reads in my head like, “Well I disagree with this…wait a minute, this person is white.  Who in the hell do you hang out with?  Find some new friends.”

White people who post racist shit, thus backing up the previous annoying example and being general racist piles of garbage.  I thought people with those opinions didn’t know how to write and read, but you learn something new everyday.  Well some of us do.

People who read articles online, then act like they thought of it in a personal post.  Your last three posts were about the last dump you took, getting high and quitting your fifth job this year because they “didn’t get you.”  I really doubt you off the cuff just thought to use words like dichotomy, transmogrification and globalist in the same paragraph.

People that put up a link followed by “You have to watch this!” or “This changes everything!”  No I don’t and no it won’t.  Nice try though.

And the winner is…”If you don’t support my favorite candidate 100%, you’re a ______!”  If you don’t like Hillary, you’re not a guaranteed wife beating, woman hating Neanderthal.  In case no one remembers, Obama beat her in 2008 in the primary.  Everyone that voted for him wasn’t a sexist.  If you don’t support Trump, it doesn’t mean you burn the American flag and wipe your ass with the Bill of Rights.  In case no one remembers, he’s changed positions on about every issue from federalism, abortion, eminent domain, foreign policy and yes, even immigration.  Something to consider.  No one on either side changes their mind being attacked with generalities.  People can have opinions in a republic without the secret police beating down our doors.  Hold on, someone just rang my doorbell…

Don’t worry everyone, only four and half more…wait, four and a half more months?  Note to self: cancel internet access and go back to a flip phone.  That’s probably easier at this point.

 

Hecklers by definition, are crowd members who agitate, interrupt and disturb a live comedy show.  What is not generally known is there are several different kinds.  All pieces of shit, but we know just like fingerprints and snowflakes, those aren’t always the same either.

The drunk heckler – One of the worst forms of heckler.  The drunk is usually a man wearing a sleeveless cutoff tee.  He’s someone who wasn’t cool in high school, but thinks he was.  This person is subconsciously trying to be funny and relevant again by screaming out things during a set.  What makes them vile beyond forgiveness is that even if you burn them, they are too drunk to logically respond.  Example: “Be more funny!”  I’m sorry, I don’t have any jokes about small penises you could relate to.  “Your mom!”  Excellent comeback.  “Be funnier!  (murmurs incoherently)  This repeats until they are tossed or need another drink.  How to counter: Natural selection will take over when they drive home blacked out and hit a pole.  No action needed.

The “helper” – Someone, usually a hillbilly woman used to talking over everyone within 100 feet or a loud guy who is always telling stories that don’t relate to what is going on in the flow of conversation.  They think they are helping by talking back to the comic too much.  Example: You guys like movies?  “Well, I do, but I’ll tell you, they don’t make them like they used to.  Now when I was younger, we went to the theater and…”  OK, THANK YOU.  Looking for a yes or no.  “One time we pulled in the old drive-in and had six people in the trunk, it was…”  Got it, that’s enough.  Tell your kids this riveting tale, if they’re not in prison.  “We got too many hot dogs, that’s for sure.  I think the movie was…”  How to counter: Since they probably are used to being ignored, this one is tough.  Ask the people at their table if it’s always this bad, usually one of them will completely snap and let out years of rage on them.

The wannabe – My least favorite heckler is the wannabe.  Never worked on a set before, never had the balls to do time, and never bothered to spend ten minutes researching an open mic…but has it all figured out and they are funnier than you.  This is their big chance!  It’s usually an old white guy that knows six or seven “stock jokes” that involve people of various backgrounds walking into bars.  Example: “I should get up there.  I’m funnier than this guy!”  Sir, you’ve listened to two jokes.  The rest of the time you’ve been telling people, who were laughing, how much funnier you are, yet in the crowd you are, making no one laugh.  “A rabbi, a priest and a lawyer walk into a bar.  Tell that one.”  How to counter: Some prefer inviting them onstage, but this just logjams the show, because they’ll either have a mic in hand insulting your act or they’ll tell a truck stop joke everyone heard in 1963.  I generally start a conversation with them about who their favorite comedian is.  The answer is almost always someone who hasn’t been seen on a stage since Reagan was president and the rest plays out very easy from there, since their view of comedy is about three decades gone.

When in doubt, I follow the Coen rule of hecklers.  1) Ignore them at first; most lose interest when no one pays attention.  2) Point out to crowd someone is needing attention and/or interrupting the show.  A mistake comics make is assuming the crowd can hear the heckler like you can.  If you attack too quickly, you look like the dick.  Once everyone is aware someone is being a problem, then step 3.  3) Verbally abuse them until they wish they had never been born.  Step 3 is my favorite.  I made a heckler cry once, but without context, see rule 2.  I’d look like a dick telling you what I said.  (It wasn’t very nice and involved referencing razor blades and what they should do with them and why.)

There are a lot of phrases I have learned since starting standup oh so many years ago.  Here’s some inside baseball for the lay persons out there.

“I have a rock solid 25 minutes.”  Translation: “I have a decent five minutes, five acceptable minutes, then some rambling incoherence I sprinkle around those ten minutes.”

“You should do this room, the crowd buys a lot of merchandise!”  Translation: “There’s no hotel and the pay is shit, but I’ll try to entice you with the false promise of merch sales.”

“I slayed that room.”  Translation: “Were you at the show?  No?  Then I’ll tell you I slayed the room.”

“I’ve done corporate gigs.”  Translation: “I once did a joke in my office break room.  It was someone else’s joke.”

“That wasn’t my crowd.”  Translation: “Those people were normal humans, not complete degenerates like I need for my horrific set.”

Last weekend I did a show hosted by Joe Horan called Horan’s House Party.  He used to call it something else, but some group of corporate comedy scumbags threatened to sue.  Suing a comic is like pissing into a hurricane; save your battles douchebags.  Suing a comic is one step away from bringing class action against panhandlers.

The show was fun – marketed as comedy meets drinking game.  The audience had to drink when the comics said certain words or topics.  Drinking games usually go one of two ways – the people that are all in drink no matter what and other people play for about six seconds and quit.  The crowd was game though.  Luckily, the comics’ participation was much more limited; I’d rather not drive into the side of the Horseshoe in my upper 30’s.

I did however have to shotgun a beer with a crowd member before my set.  Nothing says get ready for laughy fun times like hammering down a room temperature PBR (the show’s sponsor – thanks team Pabst).  I destroyed my competition.  Still got it, everyone!  …and by it, I mean a drinking problem.  This was the exchange after.  “Did you teach your daughter that skill?”  “No, babies can’t shotgun breastmilk very well.”  “True, you can’t shotgun breastmilk.”  “I said babies can’t, not me!”  There was much laughter and I did my set stuck to the floor of the biohazard known as a house full of college guys.  It went well, but I have been in quarantine for four days.  I should be able to reconnect with my family once I get CDC clearance on the battery of communicable disease tests I took over the weekend.  Wish me luck!