Ask any comedian who has done this for a while and they will tell you – and I agree with this – comedy clubs pay us not to make people laugh, but to stand in line at airports, take long miserable flights, eat food they wouldn’t allow on the set of “Fear Factor” and stay in hotel rooms so dingy, the only place you’ll find a “do not disturb” sign is around the maid’s necks. They do not pay us for telling jokes.
I know a few fellow comics, usually young ones, who haven’t grasped this theory yet. They’re like “I can’t believe I get paid to make people laugh!!” You don’t stupid. You get paid to kill five days in Davenport without killing yourself. You get paid to get undressed in public at airport security. You get paid to run the length of O’Hare, carrying a fifty pound suitcase, just to find out your flight has been cancelled. You get paid to listen to the couple in the hotel room next to you bang away until four in the morning, while you sit in the dark watching porn banging away by yourself. You get paid to each lunch alone at some food court in some mall in Livonia. You get paid to stand outside in the cold for a half an hour at baggage claim, waiting for you “limo”, that usually ends up being the club owner’s Mom – a 60 year old woman with a two pack a day cough and a 1983 County Squire station wagon. And oh yeah, you get paid to wake up at six am, on a minus 18 degree morning, in Green Bay, Wisconsin, to do the Morning Zoo radio show. Making people laugh? Nah, that’s strictly pro bono.
If you've ever glamorized the life of a road dog, this is a must read. [via DA]
Labels: about standup
Permalink | 8/09/2011