CHRIS COEN

I have been asked a couple times recently over the last month to explain what kinds of rooms and shows I do, so I thought I would go into detail.

Comedy shows – These are all over the map.  Shows can be booked at a comedy club, where people are paying to see comedy (good!) or at bars, where they may be…or they’re raging alcoholics that get pissed some funny wannabe is stealing their limelight as the (nearly always self-proclaimed) funniest person in the bar (bad!).  I’ve done concerts, private shows (for companies, anniversaries, reunions) and even under tents for bikers and tennis players – not at the same time, obviously.  I had an acquaintance see me at a comedy club once and told me I was great and wanted to know when my next show was.  He saw me next time at a dive bar on a Tuesday at 11 pm in front of seven people and asked me why my set didn’t go as well.  The crowd determines a lot of how a show goes more than what building it’s in.  Well and the comic, obviously.  I have a show this Friday at a country club that is private for the members – just to give an example.  Not every show is at a club or college, despite the standard hack intro that most comedians “work clubs and colleges all over the country.”

Open mics – This is a show that is usually free to the public.  The reason why is that anyone can get on and do time, plus experienced comics are usually trying new material, which can be great or less than that.  I’ve been to open mics that had the following – a guy took his pants off (thankfully not his boxers, though it was leaning that way), a lady that dressed like Raggedy Ann and danced to Billy Ocean (which she thought was Michael Jackson) and a guy that was so drunk, he repeated his joke three times and left.  I’ve also seen headliners like Ron White and Tommy Johnagin show up to work on new material out of the blue and it’s the venue where every comic gets their start.  I run one weekly myself where I do a workshop now beforehand to brainstorm jokes with other comics at Rehab Tavern in Columbus on Mondays at 7:30.  No dancing or depantsing yet, though.

Theme shows – These can be everything from comedy shows about specific topics to sketch or improv shows.  I have a show April 20 in Columbus where the entire theme relates to the Avengers and superheroes before Avengers 2 comes out.  I’ve also done a show where I told stories/jokes and an improv team acted out the stories onstage.  These types of shows are fun, but rare and take a lot of prework and coordination with other comics.  Comedians usually have a tough time doing prework because every time a group message goes out, they keep trying to one up each other on one-liners until no one remembers what the point of the message originally was.  Hope that explains it.

Now that I have a kid on the way, I started noticing baby stuff that I never paid attention to before.  Some of it is frightening.

Baby Commercials – I saw one for Pull-Ups where the kid actually pulls them up and down.  I got it Pampers or whomever made this commercial.  I don’t need to see the action – the name pretty much explains it.  I’m not going to put it on my kid’s head and hope for the best.

Kids TV shows – When I was checking the channels the other day, I started to become aware of kids’ shows.  I watched one for about 32 seconds and broke out into a cold sweat.  I may cancel cable when baby Coen is about one.  I think it’s a good trade-off.  No TV for me may be worth not watching the train wreck that is adults wearing brightly colored outfits and dancing around like asses while they sing about the color orange.

Baby stores – I went to one with my wife.  I wondered why we needed so many damn onesies, then I was told there will be much body fluid being sprayed without warning from multiple zones.  This one I can deal with, I used to live a fraternity house with 33 other guys.  At least it will be coming from a 10 pound source and not a 220 lb. drunk.  Plus I’ve been talking to my wife’s stomach while she sleeps telling my baby about how to use the toilet.  I’m very proficient in how to use it – I am guessing he or she will be toilet trained by five weeks or so.

When I was a kid, I loved action movies (and still do).  One of my favorites was Robocop, the heart-warming film about a cop who gets a nice cyborg upgrade after being shot on duty.  He comes back and becomes a supercop who takes down the worst in “Old Detroit.”  It was on the other night.  Holy crap, it is really bad.

1) It opens with a newscast where the reporters are smiling and joking as they talk about a gang that’s shot and killed 31 officers.  I’ll bet the cops wouldn’t really care about that or drop everything while a murderous gang of cop killers is running around.  “We’ll get to that, right after we stop these damn jaywalkers roaming our streets!”

2) The private company that runs the police department tests a new variation of a robot cop that has no ability to arrest and detain anyone.  It just takes care of crime by gunning down criminals with machine guns.  Also, it malfunctions immediately and murders one of the businessmen during the presentation.  There are NO repercussions.  In fact, the CEO is annoyed and yells at anyone that offers to help.  I remember once when I was at a staff sales meeting and a robot murdered our assistant district manager.  It was so annoying – we had to delay lunch by 10 minutes to clean up the body!

3) Officer Murphy gets shot by the cop killer gang by six criminals at close range with shotguns, including a headshot through the brain.  He lives.  Not all the way, but long enough to be put into a cyborg.  Of course, he and his partner wouldn’t have been in trouble, but they chose not to wait on backup against the six criminals.  His partner would’ve been able to help, but she decided to snap her bubble gum when approaching one the thugs and got kicked off a ledge.  Smooth.

4) The cops only carry handguns…except when they are ordered to shoot Robocop, then they have a full military arsenal.  He would’ve been killed by the machine gun robot I mentioned earlier, but it got taken out by a staircase.  That’s right – stairs.

I then realized I was being critical of a movie with late 80’s special effects about a robotic super cop in Detroit that requires zero programming or training before they release him into the public.  At least he kicks some serious ass while all this is going on.

Age 6 – Fake brush teeth.  Fake use washrag.  Sleep.

Age 16 – Pop pimples.  Shower.  Pop pimples that showed in seven minutes of showering.  Brush teeth.  Think about flossing.  Once a season, shave three facial hairs.  Sleep.

Age 26 – Play find the stray shoulder/back hair.  Pop pimples.  Curse because I still have pimples.  Brush teeth.  Finally floss.  Curse because gums are bleeding.  Shave face and sometimes other areas.  Curse because I have pimples and body hair at the same age.  Drink, then sleep.

Age 36 – Play find the clumps of random body hair.  Can’t see them because I took out contacts.  Put on glasses, get sad, say hell with it.  Pop pimples, realize they are ingrown hairs, which are worse.  Shower.  Vow to not look in mirrors anymore.  Tell self hair loss isn’t that bad, but it is.  Weigh self.  Pee and reweigh self, hoping pee weighs 12 lbs.  Realize it doesn’t and tell self scale is broken.  Vow to workout more or stop eating on days that begin with “T” until something changes.  Suddenly become aware that 46 is really to going to suck ass.  Cry or drink or both.

I think I should have a show on the Home Improvement channel, or whatever it’s called, I don’t watch it.  I think the ratings would be nice and high.  Not because I can fix things, but because I’m so useless at it.  I lived in a condo for years where my biggest maintenance crisis was caused when I walked into the screen door and bent the frame.  I fixed it by sliding it to open all the way and never using it again.

This week I went to run electrical wire up through a wall and fireplace so we can mount our TV in the center of the room.  I couldn’t get it through.  I found something called a fire break, which is a 2×4 block that somehow prevents fires, because it’s wood.  Nothing like wood as a non-flammable fail safe.  No problem.  I put drill bit into the hole and dropped it, thanks to my fat and clumsy hands.  I then spent 90 minutes with my wife’s help using a mirror, cell phone light and coat hangar getting the bit out of the wall.  We got it, but the drill didn’t fit, so we had to buy a flexible drill bit extension.  After calling five stores, we found one.  I drilled through one hole, then the part warped and broke.  There goes that.  I then ran the wire, only to find out there was a second fire break I couldn’t reach, especially since the part was now in the trash can.

All this has led me to believe it is time to give up television and learn to read.  Or use super glue, that may work also.  Stay tuned to whatever channel people work on house stuff for my new show, “When his dad was trying to teach him about home improvement, he was imagining he was a bald eagle with laser vision.”  It will involve a lot of foul language and minor injuries, some tears and will conclude with a contractor or my wife doing it correctly.

I got a gig last week on short notice.  I was happy to get the room, but it was a rough SOB.  It snowed right up to a level 2 emergency, which makes the drive interesting.  It wasn’t too bad until I got to the town.  I nearly hit Jesse Pinkman and Skinny Pete, who were walking down the center of the road.  If I would have, I like to think crack rocks would have flew out like a pinata.

The room was nice, but there was no stage, which means there was no way to see most of the crowd.  The DJ was nice, but he kept asking me what color lights I liked behind me.  How about ones that raise me up about 12 inches off the floor?  The real bugaboo was the fact that the show started at 10 pm and there was no cover.  That means one thing – drunk audience with no incentive to listen.  I fired up the comedy engine and immediately a guy walked in front of me.  Let me be more specific:  He walked within three inches of me.  On purpose.  He could have walked anywhere, but decided right in the middle of my first joke to nearly shoulder bump me.

It was so rough, I didn’t try to sell anything after the show.  One guy approached me, grabbed my DVD, opened it and took a picture with his phone.  He then walked away without saying a word.  I have no idea what he planned to do with it, but I’m sure it was a Facebook post saying he saw a real lump of dump named Chris Coen.  That’s the part that burns the worst.  I could have been possessed by Richard Pryor’s ghost and I would have had zero chance.  I was angry, then I remembered I got paid.  Two combo meals later, it will be gone, but right now, I’ll take it.