whitman's mind...

Back in day I was a bit rough around the edges, but graced with undeniably dangerous/productive combination of optimism, ignorance, and youth that can and does lead a 22 year old comic with a mere two years of trigger time under his belt to think he has a serious shot as a contender in the single most competitive comedy competition in the Pacific Northwest.

In defense of the youthful idiot I was, Young Jeremy did have some halfway descent reasons for his pride-full idiocy. I had for some time enjoyed a bit of a buzz about my writing ability (…was managing to roundly ignore my complete lack of stage ability), and come hell or high water I’d make it to at least a single mike nearly every night, despite being carless and living five miles off the bus lines.

My dedication and burgeoning abilities were noticed by the proper people, and I was promoted well above my station and given a seat at the table in the 2004 Seattle International Comedy Competition. Cocky as hell, and with fresh of a series of encouraging recent events under my belt, I went in with a full head of steam…and promptly got my ass handed to me by some of the best names in the business…This is that story, kind of.

read more

As a little more than the average (zero) traffic is likely to come calling soon, I thought it pertinent to dig into the archives and throw an old post to the top of the stream.

From the Archives: ROAD WORK

Road work, I have discovered on more than one occasion…can be a bit of a soul killer. I have, on occasion, done more roadwork in a single month than many comics would be interested in doing in a year.

Laying down hundreds of miles a day zig-zagging around America to perform stand-up comedy in some of the smallest towns in the country is not for the faint of heart. The faint of heart can’t take it when things get weird and out of control, as they inevitably will. One minute everything is going fine, and the next minute you realize that you’re trapped in a hot tub with a prison guard who’s about to get aggressively naked.

“Did you guys know that clothes are bad for a hot tub?” he asked, as our collective anuses clenched reflexively.
From: Birthday Boy

Accommodations can be a hazard as well; what some people consider a to be a cozy hunting cabin might strike a city boy like myself as something a bit more sinister…

…dead animals covering nearly every square inch of wall, a basement that was so creepy that I’m pretty sure Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs wouldn’t have set foot in it, and to top it all off the tap water smelled like it had been filtered through Jimmy Hoffa’s corpse.
From: Small Town, Strange Town

There’s also the constantly looming danger of an unprovoked stripper attack!

…As we were leaving something, no one has any idea what, happened. Suddenly a fight broke out in front of the joint, which seemed to somehow involve a large number of members of our rag-tag band of drunken vaginal connoisseurs. We immediately attempted a hasty retreat, but to no avail…
From: Fear And Loathing In Paris…Texas

And on rare occasions you can enjoy the simple charms of getting locked up in Wyoming for other people’s pot.

…The problem was, none of us knew that, and none of us has any idea how much three ounces of pot is. Fucking metric system! The prospect of a felony charge involving interstate drug trafficking loomed on all three tour members as we sat separated in the local jail…
From: Lockdown

It’s the little things like that and other acts of completely unspeakable depravity which can convince a promising young comic such as myself to quit the road for a year or two and get back to the basics of life, only taking road work when I found myself desperately needing money to pay off drug and gambling debts.

But now the call of the road has retaken me, and my calendar is filling up as I prepare to embark on yet another comedy odyssey. Thankfully, this time I have been lucky enough to be outfitted with this really awesome website, as well as top-notch video and photo equipment, allowing me to properly document the experience.

Myself and Nancy Reed embarked on one of the more intensive Americana odysseys I’ve undertaken in some time.  Washington, Idaho, Oregon, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado (show), Kansas (show), Nebraska, Iowa (3 shows), South Dakota, Montana, Idaho again, home. Eight days–4,208 mi–or about two days and 22 hours of drive time. Z-level gigs involve a bit of time behind the wheel.

In Short:

One haunted house, three cats of questionable intention, four trips across the continental divide (once in a tunnel), Bob Dole’s home town (which hasn’t been re-named “Viagra Land” despite my best efforts), a show in a former river bed, meeting a Big Buck Hunter champ, learning to hate a certain kind of hillbilly culture, the Iowa Museum of Religious Arts/History, Tea Party encounters, the house from American Gothic, the oldest women bikers club in the country, grand theft, a near arrest, Sturgis, and George Carlin returns from the dead to help us keep our sanity on the 30-hour trip home. Oh, and a pathetic excuse for a Corn Palace.
read more

Not many people truly understand what a car actually does. You dear reader, are soon to be one of the lucky few.

With even a halfway decent automobile and a few hundred dollars in gas money any American is at their liberty to enter the drivers seat and demand their iron chariot fuck haphazardly with the rotation of the earth.

The uniformed will tell you that it doesn’t work like that, but they are wrong. A car does not transport you across the earth, what a car does is command the earth to rotate at an advanced rate of speed under your tires, bringing not you to your destination, but your destination to you.

Thinking about it like that really takes the edge of paying $3.50 a gallon.

Recently I joined forces with Nancy Reed, entered my beat to shit Saturn, and commanded the planet under our tries to spin in such a way as to bring us Craig Colorado. The penalties for such a belligerent assault on the laws of physics are of course nothing to sneeze at. One can easily demand their local grocery store or mall be rotated to under their feet as often as they like with little consequence, but when you order America to shift beneath your drag below your tires Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado in the space of just two days…bad things start to happen.

Our arrogance has called down upon us a blizzard, which intends to lay down an unseasonable wall of snow and ice between us and our next gig. Once we are out of that maelstrom our fate is a solid week of dodging category five tornado’s and hoping that the universe’s fury for our conceit doesn’t extend so far as to take our lives, or worse, rip our next gig off it’s foundation and put it not in Kansas anymore.

Wish us survival. Here is some of the eye candy we  demanded the earth scroll past us as it rolled our proper destination under us.

123►

The 101 is a great highway. Costal, scenic, hard to reach, and spanning most of the west coast. The drive is relaxing, and if you’ve budgeted plenty of time to get to your destination you are tempted to stop perhaps 6 times an hour to shoot pictures. I always budget time.

123►

Wednesday April 21, The Rat & Raven
The Young & Funny Show

You never know with college kids. Generally, a trip in to Seattle’s U-district to play a bar show is a pleasant experience, but on rare occasion I have discovered audiences too liberal for me to entertain. That’s pretty damned liberal. Thankfully that was not the case at the Rat and Raven.

For me comedy is the act of taking an audience right up to the edge of what they find acceptable/comfortable, and then pulling them over the edge with me. If I can’t find that edge and bring an audience the proper distance over it, the show will reside in my mind as a failure, no matter how well it might have gone. People laugh harder when they are slightly uncomfortable, and if I haven’t made an audience laugh harder than they would in their comfort zone, something didn’t quite work.

If you are a comic looking for an audience you can take to that edge and bring father over than any other, you often can’t go wrong in a college bar. College students skew liberal. They love to play with ideas, toy with extremes, and are incredibly hip to the same counter-culture information sources I am. Generally, they are a dream come true for a road comic who often has to leave large sections of his favorite material on the cutting room floor when working the backwoods area’s of the more Jesus infused states.

Of course every audience is it’s own entity, and every once in a while I get thrown for a loop. read more

Wednesday April 14th, Seattle Comedy Underground

Twisted Show

It’s not a stretch in my mind to think that had I not been the son of a preacher I would likely have never ended up doing shows like this one…

Twisted is a monthly show put on by TK Kasnick in conjunction with the Center For Sex Positive Culture. As fate would have it, I was raised in a rather repressive (and young earth creationist) environment growing up, my dad being not only a preacher but also the principal of the Christian School I went attended. Lessons focused mainly on how Noah’s Arc and a talking snake are much more likely than any scientific theory, and a litany of reasons not to enter any non-door-knocking missionary position before marriage.

This installment of Twisted included an electrical bondage demo so risque as to prompt a heated debate back stage about just how much ass-cheek can be legally displayed in an alcohol serving Pioneer Square basement. I had a great time at the show, and preformed a rather free flowing set. It seems that when you are dealing with an audience who has just witnessed the love child of Mr. Wizard and Wilford Brimley put on a demonstration of how to sexually gratify a woman while employing anti-terrorism interrogation methods, you are allowed to do just about any material you wish. I love nights like that. After watching the electrical bondage demo I’m pretty sure that I’m definately not into that. I mean, I’m no prude, I’ve employed electricity in sex before, but I was just trying to bring the hooker back to life so we could have a talk about the evils of cocaine.

Here’s a clip:

Thursday April 15th, Owl and Thissle

Seattle’s Best Comedians Showcase

Sometimes I know for a fact that I have too big an ego and I need to bring myself back down to Earth in a hurry. After killing at the sex show I knew I needed a swift kick in the balls in order not the fail at Saturdays theater show. Luckily there is a weekly show at the Owl and Thistle seemingly built for just such a purpose. The show is free and may or may not have anyone in attendance who gives a damn that comedy is going on. In the comedy world we refer to rooms such as this as “workout rooms” meaning you can use your set to work out new material or that it might be a workout to actually get the audience to pay attention. Usually both. It’s the closest thing currently running in the Seattle market to the old Schooner in Lakewood, an army bar which Tony Daniel refereed to as “The White Apollo” but which I kind of miss sometimes just because it was so damn hard to get people to pay attention after a shooting the parking lot or when a couple of gangsters beat up a couple of GI’s so bad that they have to be airlifted to Harbor View and have four steel plates put in the skulls. You know, on second that I don’t miss the Schooner show at all…

Still, I employ shows like this to build new material and monkey around with the mechanics of my act. Sometimes I also like to try out incredibly bad ideas, like opening with a five minute long piece of the most offensive material I have, and then seeing if I can salvage the set. Being a small room with a completely random audience makes it ideal for assessing how certain bits will play with types of audience members. As I have been moving heavily into religious and political material for the past couple of years, I find rooms like this one invaluable. So I did my thing, opening with a piece of horrifically offensive material just to see if I have the charisma to pull it of (I didn’t) and then pulling myself up out of a hole I’d dug moments before. Good time.

Another benefit to the room is that it’s on Thursday meaning it collects a good cross section of comics looking to tune up for weekend shows. Comedy is hard work, but it isn’t a real job because at a real job you don’t get to hangout with other comics, see good comedy, and get pumped full of free booze before during and after the show. This show in particular featured an excellent cross section of quality comics from across Seattle’s incredibly diverse scene. Daniel Carroll, Solomon Georgio, Rory Scovel, Jesse Weyrick, Joe Henry, Lizzy Pilcher, and Andy Haynes were all in attendance. Such talent and diversity in a single free show. It’s definitely worth dropping in on Thursdays. Especially April 22nd since I’m headlining. Showtime is at 9 pm! (Hey, it’s my website, I ought to use it for shameless self promotion once in a while.)

Saturday April 17th The JewelBox

America’s Next Funniest

Alysia Wood is the first comic I ever talked to, and to this day that conversation is still one of my fondest comedy memories. I was shattered at the time, years ago, having only two horrifically bad open mike sets under my belt and hanging out after the show at the Old Seattle Underground. It was then that my brother forced me to “Go talk to them!” I was a rather shy lad, and scared to death that my lifelong dream of standup comedy might be dead before it even got going. I’ve always considered it a lucky stroke that I talked to Alysia, who was patient, informative, and incredibly supportive. Also, she didn’t tell me to steal material, which was the only Non-Alysia piece of advice I received that night which she had no problem telling me was bullshit. I may have never moved past those first two horrific sets if I hadn’t met Alysia Wood. This was about six or seven years ago. We bump into each other on occasion now, but not as often as I’d like as Alysia is jet setting around the country playing colleges, winning contests, and living in LA.

Alysia just won the “America’s Next Funniest” contest in Las Vegas and had asked me to be on her homecoming show at the JewelBox Theater. I gladly accepted my spot along side Geoff Lott, and Lizzy Pilcher, and set about promoting the show heavily as it is going to be one of my last formal shows in the Seattle area before an extended road trip which starts in May.

The JewelBox is a top notch and highly intimate venue, outfitted perfectly for comedy, plays or music. It includes an excellent stage, professional lighting and sound, an honest-to-god green room. The staff also treated us excellently. Basically it’s everything you can’t expect in a bar room but are always happy to have when it comes along.

The show was a great time before during and after. The Owl & Thissle had done its job of bringing me back down to Earth after the Twisted show’s success and I turned in a very good and very clean (by my standards) set. Several of my close friends stopped by from High School, and both Tacoma and Seattle Atheists. The only hiccup in the entire evening was when Geoff, Lizzy and myself somehow locked ourselves out of the room containing the vouchers for our free alcohol. A rookie mistake! We endured.

As an added bonus a good friend of Alysia’s stopped by and took a few very nice action shots of myself and Alsyia during the show. Much thanks.

After a night of moderate partying and gluttonous sushi consumption I retired to the north end, with no thought for the ‘morrow.

Sunday April 18th, The Mancave

The Northwest Convergence Zone

A night as good as the night Saturday can cause a person to forget that he’s in need of head-shots and has lined up a photo shoot in Seattle on Sunday. Luckily Heather Christian seems to understand the comic mind, and sent me a reminder to get my ass showered and downtown. I’m pretty neurotic about having my picture taken, and Heather was great at putting me at ease, and I can’t wait to see how the shots turned out (but I’m still a little scared!)

Having that done, it was time to make my random weekly trip down to Tacoma for bargain price cigarettes from the Fife Indian Reservation, and generally catch up with my home town. As luck would have it, I happened to be in Tacoma when Alysia called me up and asked if I’d like to accompany her to a taping of The Northwest Convergence Zone. Despite being even more petrified of radio than I am of having head-shots taken I was glad to be asked to go and we headed down to the show. A variety of good times and strange coincides awaited us.

Out of all the experiences I’ve had in radio this would turn out to be hands down the best; and one of the more interesting chance reunions in my entire life.

We arrived at the Man Cave around 5pm for the taping, and were treated awesomely by Big D, Double D, Big Joe, Wonderboy, and Squeeze from the moment we walked in the door. I was a incredibly nervous about the whole thing, having showed up as a walk on guest and never having in my life felt comfortable behind a radio microphone, but the guys put me at my ease almost immediately. The show is located in a secret Tacoma location which certainly lives up to it’s code name of “The Man Cave.” Not only is it a fully equipped professional quality radio studio, but the place is also outfitted with a beer fridge and indoor smoking. Heaven on Earth.

I can’t say enough about the warm reception the guys gave us. Having been at the show last night they were familiar with my comedy and quite complimentary. Often times when dealing with folks in the entertainment industry you get the feeling of talking to a used car salesman, but I’m glad to report that when dealing with these guys nothing could be farther from the truth, and I honestly feel that I made real friends. Alsyia did an excellent job, and I had a some issues due to nerves, but to the infinite credit of Wood and the guys by the end of the taping I actually felt like I knew what I was doing on air. I honestly can’t say enough about how glad I am for the experience, or how much fun I had.

During the course of the taping it was suddenly discovered that myself and Big D, and Double D had a lot more in common that we first thought. Before the show was over it seemed highly probable that we’d all gone to the same Creationist Christian school growing up…Due to PTSD and the not entirely unfounded fear of retribution, we decided not to delve into the topic too much on air, fearing that the institution might do the sort of thing that puts the FUN in FUNdamentalist if we spoke badly about the institution or even went as far as naming it.

Afterwards we got around to the kind of show business talk that sadly just can’t take place on air, because it’s just so damned interesting that your average civilian can’t handle or understand that sort of information, and because of the horrific legal implications of such knowledge being available to the general public. Alsyia had a great story, absolutely awesome, and if you ever meet her you should have her tell it to you, because I am not allowed to reprint it…I can only go so far as to say that it involved extended staring at beef jerky. Tacoma’s most wanted, Double D, also had a good tip for how to completely remove a set of handcuffs while imprisoned in the back seat of a police car, but I also won’t be printing that here as I firmly believe in not having my readers pepper sprayed and beaten by the police.

Soon it was time to confirm that our earlier suspicions of having attended the same ultra-conservative christian school were not only true, but that Big D had also been employed by my father’s Christian focused janitorial company in the 80′s. It takes a brave man to drive around late at night in the shooting gallery that was Tacoma in the 80′s, so I do not suggest anyone ever pick a fight with Big D. The story of exactly who and what my dad is, and why he owned a janitorial service that specialized in Christian clients will have to wait for a later date; once I’ve checked with a few lawyers about just what constitutes liable. The point is, I had a great time with Alsyia and the guys, and learned a lot and will be forever grateful for the experience. I also intend to drop in on the show as often as possible, which sadly won’t happen this week due to a last minute booking at a strip club in Spokane.

Make sure and give the Podcast a listen and drop the guys a comment.

It was a uniquely good week all around. Much thanks to everyone involved.

12►

Road work, I have discovered on more than one occasion…can be a bit of a soul killer. I have, on occasion, done more roadwork in a single month than many comics would be interested in doing in a year.

Laying down hundreds of miles a day zig-zagging around America to perform stand-up comedy in some of the smallest towns in the country is not for the faint of heart. The faint of heart can’t take it when things get weird and out of control, as they inevitably will. One minute everything is going fine, and the next minute you realize that you’re trapped in a hot tub with a prison guard who’s about to get aggressively naked.

“Did you guys know that clothes are bad for a hot tub?” he asked, as our collective anuses clenched reflexively.
From: Birthday Boy

Accommodations can be a hazard as well; what some people consider a to be a cozy hunting cabin might strike a city boy like myself as something a bit more sinister…

…dead animals covering nearly every square inch of wall, a basement that was so creepy that I’m pretty sure Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs wouldn’t have set foot in it, and to top it all off the tap water smelled like it had been filtered through Jimmy Hoffa’s corpse.
From: Small Town, Strange Town

There’s also the constantly looming danger of an unprovoked stripper attack!

…As we were leaving something, no one has any idea what, happened. Suddenly a fight broke out in front of the joint, which seemed to somehow involve a large number of members of our rag-tag band of drunken vaginal connoisseurs. We immediately attempted a hasty retreat, but to no avail…
From: Fear And Loathing In Paris…Texas

And on rare occasions you can enjoy the simple charms of getting locked up in Wyoming for other people’s pot.

…The problem was, none of us knew that, and none of us has any idea how much three ounces of pot is. Fucking metric system! The prospect of a felony charge involving interstate drug trafficking loomed on all three tour members as we sat separated in the local jail…
From: Lockdown

It’s the little things like that and other acts of completely unspeakable depravity which can convince a promising young comic such as myself to quit the road for a year or two and get back to the basics of life, only taking road work when I found myself desperately needing money to pay off drug and gambling debts.

But now the call of the road has retaken me, and my calendar is filling up as I prepare to embark on yet another comedy odyssey. Thankfully, this time I have been lucky enough to be outfitted with this really awesome website, as well as top-notch video and photo equipment, allowing me to properly document the experience.

For over two years, non-stop mind you, I toured with The Just Another Hangover Tour. I collected thousands of pictures and an equal number of frightening stories. If you click “read more” you will get a small taste of just what it was like…and by a small taste I mean to say it’s like having the experience of several years of road comedy fired into your brain from the barrel of a shotgun.
read more