Turns out she likes Limp Bizkit. I ask her if it's the lyrics or Fred Durst's charm she likes. She also likes Linkin Park. And Nickelback. I told her that made sense. If you like the smell of shit, you'll love the smell of farts. I then ponder if she's a teenage boy who likes to lift weights. Here's the audio:
I dove right in because I was happy to have something in the moment to riff on. It was the sort of room where written stuff wasn't gonna fly very well anyway. So I chose to view her talking as a gift, not an insult.
She kept talking throughout the night and someone else yelled at her hard later. It got applause but I don't think that's the way to go. I think anger usually equals fear. They smell the same to me. The calmer you are when handling a talker/heckler, the more you seem like a pro.
Besides, she fucking likes Limp Bizkit and Nickelback. Life has been tough enough on her already.
Paul F. Tompkins on dealing with hecklers:
When I first started, I had enormous difficulty dealing with hecklers. Any time anyone in the audience said anything, I instantly went on the attack, and in a rather inelegant fashion. I just tried to shut people down with insults. What took me forever to learn was that you have to give these people enough rope to either hang themselves or show that they are not actually a threat.
Bill Burr's take is to just say whatever you're thinking:
I would just say when you’re getting heckled, just really go with what you’re thinking, because even if it isn’t funny, it’s going to be something hateful. If you just really tapped into how sad that person was making you, you could turn it into something. There’s no formula for it. I would just go with what the hell you’re thinking.
Permalink | 8/27/2008