Hit the open mic at Steve’s Hot Dogs tonight. Divorce case? Yeah — it hit Casenet today. Public record now.
Had my SMART Recovery group earlier, and somewhere between check-in and wrap-up, I realized something wild: I have never had sex with someone for the first time sober. Not once. Fifty years old, and that’s still a frontier for me. When you drink for decades and spend 20 years married, there’s a lot you skip over without realizing it.
Steve’s is a real-deal restaurant — not a cart, not a street stand. Fun spot. Only about 10 comics tonight. Helium’s open mic runs the same night, and that’s where most comics head. I can’t usually make it to Helium — group runs until 7, and I’m not skipping group often. Sobriety maintenance is non-negotiable. Skip one thing, then another, and before you know it, you’re back at Day 1.
Got there early, walked the street, rehearsed in my head. City noise swirling, people moving, but I’m locked in on my set. Almost meditative.
The host told us to stretch our legs since the list was short. I ran two bits:
- Georgia Arrest Bit — landed well. Still needs tightening, but some banger lines are locked in.
- Joe/Pokémon/Tinder Bit — transition was clunky as hell, cost me time. Got the light early, rewrote the end on the fly, nailed the punchline, and hit a setup I missed last week. Big laugh.
Host asked how long I’ve been doing comedy. Told him, “Five weeks.” He smiled and said it was fun to watch. Out-of-town comics nodded. Those little moments matter.
I’m building for my people — middle-aged guys, maybe their wives, parents of autistic kids. My secondary audience? Younger hustlers who want an older voice that’s been through the grinder. Third? Folks who can’t say what they want out loud but still want to hear it said.
Parts of my life are falling apart. Other parts are taking off. But for the first time in a long time, I’m unapologetically me. If you like it, ride along. If you don’t, that’s fine too. We get one shot. Swing for the fences.
I was a throwaway kid — teachers told me I’d be nothing or dead. Plenty of my friends are. I’m not. No clue why I made it through, but it would be a cosmic sin not to go all-in now. My energy, my weird-ass stories — they’re mine to give.
Comedy’s grounding me in ways I didn’t expect. Writing with intent changes how I see the world. Reclaim Sobriety flowed straight from the heart — no punchline pressure. Comedy’s different: I write it, then go back to hunt for hits. Rehearse 20, 40, 100 times until it’s tight. By the fifth or sixth time on stage, the bit starts breathing.
I don’t think I do comedy like anyone else. If I’ve got influences, it’s Chris Rock and Kevin Hart — telling life stories and lacing them with punches. I respect the one-liner writers, but this style feels like home: real, absurd, sometimes nudged for the laugh. Off-stage I don’t rewrite truth, but on stage? The truth is clay.
So yeah — Casenet says divorce in progress. Steve’s Hot Dogs says I’ve got a stage. And I say I’m still here, still swinging, still telling the stories.
P.S. Yeah… the Georgia Arrest bit I ran tonight? You can wear it. My actual mugshot is now immortalized on a black-on-black hoodie — subtle, rebellious, and probably not HR-approved. Grab yours here: https://coxout.printful.me/product/cox-out-raw-and-uncut-black-on-black-hoodie
