Didn’t feel like writing tonight. Wrote last night for COxout. Haven’t done back-to-back nights in a while—been working on other projects that are supposedly more important.
Though honestly, part of me thinks what I’m doing with COxout is the most important thing in the world.
The Funny Bone Reset
Pretty basic Tuesday. Got home from work, ordered groceries, hit Funny Bone to restart my four-week counter.
Didn’t know if I’d be in town this week, but figured fuck it—if I can make it, I’ll go.
Meeting went long. Alex Hayes ran it tight.
It’s really cool seeing comedians in St. Louis coming together, getting sharper, more connected. The community feels like it’s growing in a very cool way.
Been thinking about producing a show—something different. Maybe a COxout show: weekly open mic, monthly showcase. The idea keeps scratching at me.
Lost Time
Left Funny Bone before the show started. Went home thinking I’d chill for 10 minutes. Turns out it was an hour.
Got lost writing on another project—happens a lot.
Still weird, though—JC Tate was on when I left, and somehow she beat me to Purple Quarters. Guess I was home longer than I thought.
The Dating Bit Evolution
Did the new dating-across-cultures bit tonight. It landed pretty good—some solid laughs and a few moments that really hit.
Aaron Spriggs told me to drop the “motherfuckers” when I talk about how Black women communicate.
Thing is, “motherfucker” is the replacement. It’s already the cleaned-up version.
So how much more do I pull back before it stops being the truth?
The Authenticity Question
This isn’t the first time someone’s told me I swear too much—it’s the third.
That’s what inspired The Fuck Symphony on my Cox Out: Is This Real? album—still my most popular song. (I’ll tag it in this post.)
So yeah, maybe they’re right. But I’m caught between two things: authenticity and cadence.
Bezos said he almost tanked Amazon because his cadence was off—pushing too many things too fast. Sometimes you’ve got to adjust the rhythm.
But in comedy, if you sand down the edges too much, the truth disappears.
I’m already softening the language. If I take out “motherfucker,” does the joke still hit?
Where’s the line between communicating clearly and losing what you mean?
What I Believe
We could all get along easier if we just accepted that everyone’s weird in their own way.
If something confuses you, ask. Don’t assume bad intent—just talk.
Curiosity isn’t an attack. Everyone does weird shit.
Humans have to work together—every race, every culture—because “divide and conquer” isn’t just history. It still works.
Why This Bit Matters
We’ve got to be able to talk about race and culture openly—and laugh while we do it.
That’s how we move forward.
If we can talk, we can do anything.
If we stop talking, it’s over.
The Harder Material Coming
I’ve been digging into darker stuff—mental health, government control, all the “we’re here to help you” bullshit that ends up breaking people.
Back in the day, if a woman hit menopause, they’d say she’d “lost it.”
They didn’t shoot her, but they sure as hell locked her up.
Big iron beds, cold rooms, doctors saying, “Rest, dear.”
And if she didn’t calm down? Electricity. They’d shock her until she stopped fighting.
That’s not ancient history—that’s your grandma’s generation.
They used electric shock to “fix” women who were too loud, too emotional, or just tired of men’s crap.
It worked—not because it healed them, but because it broke them.
That’s what the system does.
It smiles, says it’s helping, and fries your spirit until you shut up.
Fill out this form. Get on this list. Trust the process.
But once you stop being useful, the system spits you out.
If it thinks you can make it money or make it look good, you’re safe.
If not? You vanish.
That bit’s coming—it’s heavy. But this month, I’m sticking with the dating stuff.
Three cultures. Three energies. It’s funny, it’s honest, and it needs to be said.
Tonight’s Set
Good set. Got laughs, got feedback.
Now I’m stuck on this question—cadence or authenticity?
I’ve already softened it once. Do I water it down again?
Or trust that the truth—even when it stings—is what gives comedy its punch?
The Balance
I don’t have the answer yet. Maybe it changes with the room, the moment, the bit.
But I didn’t start this to make people comfortable. I started it to tell the truth.
So where’s the balance between being smart about delivery and betraying what you mean?
I’ll keep testing it, collecting data, trying new ways to say it.
But every time someone tells me to tone it down, it feels like I’m being asked to pick between being effective and being real.
Maybe they don’t have to be opposites.
Maybe I just haven’t figured out how to be both yet.
When someone tells you to soften your message—is that wisdom or compromise?
And how the hell do you tell the difference?
