Regular day at work. Golden Cox Awards outreach finally started. Two thousand comedians over the next thirty days. If I get fifty to a hundred submissions, that’s a win. If I have to reach out to one hundred thousand people to make it work, fuck it, I will.
I’m starting to find my groove in creativity marketing. Closing deals. Helping people grow. Building products that solve real problems, not just ideas rattling around in my head. New users. Forward motion. The right kind.
The Bit I Finally Found
Did something new tonight.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk about where I grew up openly and honestly, without flinching and without stripping anyone of dignity.
After my Jefferson County crystal girl versus West County crystal girl bit, I dropped this:
“I actually grew up in Arnold, Missouri. Which was an openly racist town in the 80s. They literally taught us this shit. White flight. You’re here because it’s safer. And I’m supposed to believe these motherfuckers teaching me this in a trailer next to a pig farm?”
That was real. That happened.
People need to know it happened, because if we don’t remind ourselves that we’re all in this together, it happens again.
Which is funny, because “We’re All In This Together” was the name of my high school yearbook. I was on yearbook staff. Been a hippie my whole life, haven’t I.
The Fear I See Everywhere
I have never seen more people scared than right now.
Not the kind of scared where you’re alert and paying attention. Not the kind of scared that’s like walking past an aggressive dog on a chain. You’re cautious, you’re aware, but you know where the danger is.
This is different.
This is people not knowing what to do at all. Nervous systems overloaded. When I talk about this stuff, eyes glaze over.
My mom said it perfectly: “I just don’t want to think about it.”
But we know sitting still and doing nothing leads to decay. Systems move toward efficiency. America is a system. The economy is a system. Delicate checks and balances that were never designed for this kind of load.
Systems shake off fleas. And this system’s fleas? That’s us.
It doesn’t take much shaking to make a scared crowd stampede.
Tonight’s Sets
Purple Quarters was good. Cold as fuck, but the heaters were running.
Did six minutes of mostly new material. Dropped a middle punchline on an older joke I don’t execute well anyway. But six solid minutes without touching my Joe bit at all.
That means I’ve got ten. Maybe twelve.
Joe bit gets me three with the breathe motherfucker callback. Add the Jesus joke or the stupid egg joke. Yeah. I’ve got my material.
Funny Bone — first on the list, didn’t get on. Still super proud of JC Tate though. She’s hosting there now. Her career is stepping up. She’s funny as fuck and she’s doing the work. Good things happening for good comics.
Why Comedy Matters Now
When people are scared, comedy helps.
There have been times in my life where the only reason I was laughing was because I didn’t want to cry.
The mindset you walk this planet with dictates the life you live. That sounds like motivational poster bullshit until you think about your darkest days. They’re called dark days because you literally saw the world darker.
Think about your first love. First kiss. How bright that memory is.
Everyone understands this intuitively. What they don’t understand is how wildly different it is from person to person.
The autism diagnosis and the quantum stuff I’ve been studying has me retreating into my left brain analytical world. It’s stable. It’s safe. It’s just not the most fun place in my head to live. And I’ve got a lot of fun places in there.
Six Seven Just Means Okay
I pushed the edge as far as I could politically tonight. Pointed out the absurdity and drove it home.
Six seven just means okay. Like a sixty degree day. Dumb little phrase. The kids love it. The adults love it.
We need more compassion for each other. Comedy is medicine for fear. Even when it’s just okay.
That trailer next to the pig farm taught me a lot about what not to be.
Now I’m teaching myself what to become.
Breathe, motherfucker.
We’re all in this together.
