Sumukh Torgalkar

                                      Stock image of one of my fans

The major question that I receive when people find out I’m a stand-up comedian is “How do you handle hecklers?” It’s clear it’s now the main fascination of the general public. In part, it’s due to the rise of these kinds of videos via social media. It’s understandable. The idea of getting on a stage alone and entertaining an audience is already so stunning to other individuals, let alone the idea of being quick on one’s feet enough to deal with someone who is throwing off the nature of the show. The ability to improvise and still entertain the audience is fascinating. The ability to put someone in their place, to have that power to make all just and right in that moment captivates people. They couldn’t imagine being in that same position as you.

Here is my secret: I don’t want hecklers. I don’t want “to take them down.” I certainly have the skill to do it and I certainly do it if the situation arises in my live shows but it doesn’t mean that I want to do it or get a thrill from it. I’m sure I’m in the minority on this topic with my fellow comedians because, realistically, the impromptu nature of handling hecklers and doing it skillfully draws more laughs. It gives the audience more appreciation for your ability. And what comedian doesn’t get a high off more laughter? What comedian doesn’t want to feel more appreciated?

I can do it. However, joke writing and stand-up comedy performance has always been more poetry and theatre to me than improv whose focus is the audience. The timing and the beats of my material matter. It doesn’t mean that they can’t be thrown off and I can handle it. It doesn’t mean they are the exact same every time at every performance. I play with the performance. I fine-tune the performance. I take it whatever direction I wish to take it. The audience is there to experience that performance on that given night. In that sense, I expect every show to be the environment that would be the case for an album or a special. You don’t want hecklers at an album recording or a special. Those recordings are not about them. They are about the comedian. They are about the performance. They are about etching that moment in time, that completion of many months or years of work and effort into that recording. Ideally, to me, every performance should feel that way even if it is part of the process to get to that point. The ideal is to create such performances, not to “handle hecklers.”

When people ask me how I handle hecklers, my answer is pretty simple. Hecklers are usually drunk. So, this is more crowd control while adding comedy than it is creating any form of art for me. These drunk hecklers are usually equated with what is perceived to be “fun.” They are having a happy night out and experiencing live stand-up comedy is part of their “fun.” I am not an artistic performance, I am “fun.” I accept that and work accordingly with it to ensure I create “fun” in whatever definition that may be. That’s part of my job to me.

Of course, the usual hecklers are drunks who heckle thinking that is “fun” and it’s their responsibility to “add to the show.” These are actually not my hecklers. If you’re aware of my comedy, mine is not about creating a party. Yes, you’re here to have fun at my shows but in the sense that you are watching a performance and not in a sense that you arrived drunk, will continue to get drunk, and are part of the drunken orgy that is my comedy show. I don’t do comedy that creates any particular controversy. So, I’m a certain type of comedian, one that doesn’t exactly draw those looking for a party atmosphere.

It does not mean that I don’t get my fair share of drunk hecklers or that I don’t continue to draw drunk people. My hecklers are drunk for a reason. But they aren’t drunk for the quintessential “happy night out.” They are usually drunk because they are dealing with some issues and, unfortunately, it’s the very kind of issues that led me to stop drinking. So, essentially, for me as a comedian, this isn’t exactly fun anymore whether onstage or offstage.

At a recent show, I had a drunk audience member come up to me after the show. I had to make fun of her during the show otherwise she would have derailed the show. It was fine and she wasn’t too drunk and was a good sport about it. She apologized after but then could tell whatever I addressed in my comedy came from a deeper, perhaps painful place. This led her into sharing her feelings, her recent pain, her devastation. In my head, I thought, “Ahh, so you’re drunk for all the wrong reasons.” These are my drunk hecklers, the people going through something much deeper, the people that shouldn’t be drunk to begin with to handle their problems. It shouldn’t shock you to know that I don’t draw the “You were great! Sign my breast!” kind of drunk nor is that who I want to draw anyway.

How in the world am I, a comedian who stopped drinking, supposed to get joy out of “taking down” a person who is heckling because they are dealing with their own personal issues? I can do it and the show can continue and entertain all but I don’t get any joy out of it. That’s because I know my audience member’s pain. I’d been through that myself (just not yelling stuff out at comedy shows in dealing with it). And, now, I’m having to deal with them after the show which I’m not sure I even want to be doing. I don’t really want to have to converse with someone that happened to be at my show about their issues. But, alas, these are the people that I draw and I accept that because I would draw these types. They are who I am or at least who I once was and that they can bond with my improvement from who I once was. So, I’ll talk to them, I’ll accept their apology, I’ll listen to what they’re going through, and all I can do is hope for the best for them. But, I also can sit back later and write this now and, to the real question of how I handle hecklers, my actual response is more an existential “What the fuck is this?”

I say that because, with hecklers, I can do the job, I can “take them down,” I can entertain an entire audience as a result of them. I can also tell you that it gives me no joy to do those things because, with the few hecklers I do get, I know they are simply not happy people. If I’m not getting joy from stand-up comedy performance, then why would I even be doing it? So, it’s sad to be honest with you, but “handling hecklers” is more an existential indictment on stand-up comedy for me than it is something I want millions of views on Tiktok for.

Call me crazy, but I’m not interested in shitting on complete strangers who paid money to see me. That’s not my brand or reason for comedy. Worse, I’m not interested when, in the bonding that comes with live performance, I only manage to find out I shit on someone dealing with some heavy issues. That’s not why I do stand-up comedy. That’s not why they should be here for my stand-up comedy. So, how can I explain that the whole structure of why I love stand-up comedy and my audiences is actually thwarted by the plight of the drunk heckler? It upends the very notions of why I do stand-up comedy and even why I stopped drinking.

So, yes, how do I handle hecklers? Very well and very unhappily. And, we all know that even some of the ones there for a “happy night out” probably are not exactly happy themselves either. They are just hidden behind the night of a happy event and thus not open to share in their misery and depression with me afterwards.

What can I truly say to my drunk hecklers? I can only hope they find a better way to deal with their issues and I can only hope that, somehow, even in me needing to make fun of them, that one comedy show provided some small help and improvement to whatever they are going through.

Whenever I find myself in a social situation with someone new, it is inevitable that I will tell them that I am a comedian. I have been a comedian for 16 years. It is an essential part of my life. I’m proud of that part of my life. However, the reactions are always similar. It’s a pleasant reaction but always something in the realm of “That’s fun!” While it is “fun,” comedy is a job. With that comes all the elements of a job that can make it potentially less fun. There comes a point where, in the passion for something you love, it shifts from being fun to a career and it’s essential to understand that and one’s place in that to continue to find the joy in it.

To me, the first year of comedy is the best. It allows you to be the most open, to be able to screw up, to have fun, to socialize and to connect with others. It’s like any other venture that’s new and exciting and, with it, the possibilities feel endless.

I realize it’s now rare in our current times but by the end of my first year, I was being paid to be a comedian. I hosted a weekend at Go Bananas Comedy Club in Cincinnati. My friend Riley Silverman said to me, “You’re now a professional comedian.” She was right. I was being paid by a comedy club to be a comedian. It quickly was now a job and one I was proud to have accomplished. The headliner that weekend was Bob Zany, someone who has become a legend in comedy and around my age at the time in the 1980s was doing Rodney Dangerfield HBO specials. I ended up driving him around a lot and most of that involved Zany just staying in character but, at one point, he asked me, “Why do you want to be a comedian?” I gave him some answer that was probably hopeful and excited that he deep down rolled his eyes at but it’s a question that has stuck with me and with any sensible comedian throughout their time doing it. To me, it’s a question you have to constantly ask yourself the deeper that you get into the business.

There comes a point for anyone who is passionate about comedy where it shifts from being something fun to a career. As a result, comedy and entertainment as a career are no different than any other career or industry. It becomes no different than any other job and the pursuit of success within it. It is perhaps even more challenging and even more aggravating given its outside of the norms nature, its possibilities that can lead to fame and riches, and the large number of people pursuing that gamble in life. But, at its core, to work in the business is the same as to work in any other business. It is filled with awful bosses and the deeper one gets in the industry, the deeper one is affected by corporate influences no different than would be the case in any other white-collar path.

Having been raised by immigrants and Indian parents, I was instilled with a certain work ethic and logic. Of course, an artistic pursuit as a career was already completely outside the realm of their logic. So, I kept a job while I was doing comedy. Part of it was for the steady income and part of it was so that my parents would simply be kept at bay in their insistence on me pursuing a career that furthered all the sacrifices they made in immigrating and providing for myself and my older brother. To technically be pursuing two careers was aggravating and time-consuming but ultimately worthwhile. By pursuing both an artistic career and a conventional career, it may have been excessive some days, but it gave me perspective, economic stability, and enhanced my work ethic and skills. As I can admit now humorously, my damn parents were right.

For a while, there was a lot of emphasis on going “full-time” with comedy. To those who yearn and want to do that, I applaud them. Personally, there was no way I was going to do that without feeling mentally, emotionally, and financially stable. So, essentially, this is why I’ve never done it. To go “full-time” was to completely embrace the instability that comes with comedy and the entertainment industry. It was to succumb to being at its whim and the erratic nature of that business. That didn’t appeal to me. That could only make my love for comedy deteriorate.

I moved to L.A. at the beginning of 2016 not just as a career decision but also a philosophical decision and a life goal. To me, if I absolutely loved comedy (which I do), I had to pursue it at the highest level and being a part of that epicenter. I loved L.A. but it also exposed to me how full throttle and entrenched one had to be in the comedy and entertainment industry to even remotely succeed at it. I frankly was now too old, experienced, and logical to even want that. The downfall of having pursued two careers was that I had worked to provide myself options. Very quickly into being in L.A., I wondered what exactly my goal was. Even if I were to get into the writers’ room of a TV show, how would this be any different or better than the position I was already in working in compliance for a company? I’d still be a part of corporate America and now at the expense of my own creativity. I now had two careers that I loved and so it was best suited to continue how to keep that love in both of them.

For comedy, I continuously question why I do it. Sadly, in a world in which entertainment success means fame, I realized fame was of no appeal to me in why I do comedy. I enjoy making people laugh, making them feel better, helping them, and being able to explore my creativity in the way I want to. Whoever wants to experience that is great. Whoever doesn’t is fine, too. I like comedy earning me money but I don’t yearn for it currently to be my primary source of income or my major career or my focus every single minute of my life. I have other interests. I have other pursuits. I see the meaninglessness of comedy just as much as I embrace my love for it.

My friend Jim Tews wrote a great piece years ago about working jobs while being a comedian (disregard the Louis CK component) which I still think about and feel is so accurate to balancing two work lives. By working and pursuing another career, it allowed me to possess the stability to make my own decisions with my creativity. When you’re full-time in comedy, when it’s your job, you may not have such luxuries. You take what you can to pay rent. You take awful gigs. You get a credit on a TV show you’d be embarrassed to tell anyone about. But that’s working. That’s being in the business. That’s being in the entertainment industry. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, I never wanted the industry to dictate my passion.

                                          Photo by Nick Holmby

There is something special to being the only person standing on a stage with a microphone. There is certainly a power to it, even more so when that person holding the microphone has the confidence to command that stage. There is an attention that’s given by an audience. There’s a respect that’s given by an audience. And, presumably, if effective at the reasons as to why this person with a microphone has been granted that power, they can deliver on an extremely effective speech or performance for that audience.

There are rules to this concept and such rules established themselves within stand-up comedy over its history dating back to when Mark Twain toured the world giving humorous speeches. They have developed with the existence of every type of comedy venue from comedy clubs to breweries to living rooms. Silence your cell phones. No table talk. No heckling. The audience is here to enjoy a show. They are here to watch and be entertained by a person standing on a stage with a microphone. They are not here to take calls, to have a conversation, to shout whatever they please.

Whether stand-up comedians want to believe it or not, a majority of the public has never been to a live stand-up comedy show (my parents, for example, never would have gone if not for me). As a result, their perceptions either come from absolutely nothing or from what’s delivered to them via media. That can create a flurry of misconceptions of the rules from the whole idea of throwing tomatoes at stand-up comedians to the fearful question of “What do you do when there’s a heckler?” Nevertheless, television in fact brought an order and understanding of the rules of stand-up comedy for the audience from the 1980s through the 2000s from Rodney Dangerfield’s Young Comedians Special to the short vignettes at the beginning and end of Seinfeld to Comedy Central Presents being played in every college dorm room across the country. We were just viewers laughing and being entertained. It’s how we enjoyed and fell in love with stand-up comedy to begin with.

However, a new generation and even our very own and older now interact with stand-up comedy in a different way. While television and streaming services still present stand-up via late night sets or specials, many turn to one-minute clips of stand-up via Tiktok and Instagram Reels. It is, in fact, the ideal way for stand-up comedians to gain further exposure for themselves from the public. With that, the fixation has shifted the weight to now being about the consumer more than about the comedian (or shall I say “content creator”?).

This has in turn created the rise of heckler videos, a concept that had mostly been squared around one particular comedian who seemed to thrive off being that without any concept of any actual written material but then spurned into the comedy community’s realization that such videos were actually what the public was interested in. The culture and consumers are now more reactionary. What is appealing now is what goes “viral” as opposed to what is “art.” The crowd is more important than the comedian.

As a result, we see a rise in Tiktok and Reels in these “heckler videos” or videos with interactions with the crowd members. It makes sense in a way. It allows the audience member at home watching to feel more comfortable and brought into the live experience while also seeing what feels like an organic moment (who knows if it is?) and talent from a comedian. However, in the process, the rise of these videos is slowly tearing apart the social contract of live stand-up comedy. It’s slowly giving the perception to the audience that the violation of the rules is the norm. Not only can I talk at the show, I should talk at the show, and maybe even I’ll end up on the Tiktok of this comedian. No longer am I an audience member, I am now the show.

When I was in college, one of my closest friends (and still one of my closest friends) was from Sri Lanka. Some of his co-workers were going to take him to a Cincinnati Reds game which he had never been to an American baseball game. I was sitting with them at his apartment when they jokingly said to him that at random times the players would pick people from the crowd to come on the field and play. My friend was mortified at the thought. We laughed when telling him the truth but it was an understandable reaction. The idea was absurd and the notion of as an audience member becoming part of the entertainment was so out of line with the social contract that we understand of sports around the world.

Yet, in stand-up comedy, unlike any other realm involving a stage or entertainment, we continue to undermine that social contract ourselves. Recently, a friend of mine discussed with me about the heckler videos he watched knowing I was a stand-up comedian. I explained to him the very notions I’m bringing up in this essay. He said to me, “Oh, I didn’t think about it in that way but now I see what you mean.” This is an intelligent, artistic individual who enjoys comedy and pop culture but not a performer and it still didn’t resonate to him until I explained it. So, imagine for the average audience member. I enjoy watching symphonies, but if Tiktok suddenly had a majority of conductors just interacting with the audience and requesting of them to play the violin, I would be wondering what the hell is going on in live classical music.

I don’t write this as an indictment of my fellow comedians. Times change. The business changes. In both cases, it’s clear the public and the industry want these videos because, as mentioned, the shock and the upheaval of the rules draws more attention. I don’t fault my fellow comedians for following this path if it can get them regular work and income in our field. However, it no doubt has the possibility of changing the social contract as we had all once understood stand-up comedy to be and ultimately that change is being done by the very comedians who request such rules and social contract to remain in place. You can’t expect a crowd to stay quiet for you when all their awareness is that stand-up comedy involves the comedian talking personally to them or “taking down” hecklers.

I personally don’t care. I understand what my audience (a limited one at that which I’m happy with) is and it’s introverts and oddballs who come to the show to not have the comedian talk to them personally at all from the stage and just be able to laugh at their well-constructed material. The rules remain in place at my shows and I exude those rules even in my social media presence. My shows are not a party. I can take down a heckler but don’t want to because you shouldn’t be heckling to begin with. I won’t talk to you personally from the stage. Depending upon who you are, I’m not sure I even want to talk to you personally offstage. I accept that and am comfortable.

So, I don’t write this out of anger with the change. I write it just so stand-up comedians have awareness and understanding of the change. As long as these videos persist either via the desire of the public or the industry, with it, we are handing over the rules and social contract of stand-up comedy to the public and the industry. We are actively breaking the contract. We are slowly changing what stand-up comedy is about.

Hallmark movies are by no means the way to get an understanding on progress. However, I’ll admit it’s a guilty pleasure for me and putting on some of their mindless mystery shows is a comfort. In the episode of Hailey Dean Mysteries called “A Prescription for Murder,” there’s a character named Dr. Chang. He’s described as a robot. He’s a doctor totally focused on his own personal success at a sacrifice of his patient’s welfare. He shows no emotion to the situation. He’s a suspect until he’s not then frankly disappears from the entire movie. It’s quintessential Hallmark which will still rely on stereotypes of another era.

Dr. Chang is an exaggeration of Western perceptions of Asian cultures. Such a simplistic presentation does not look at the deeper aspects of the emotional restrictions culturally and the challenges to overcome in a Western world that is becoming more and more emotional. This is the challenge of the first-generation in America. This is the challenge I still deal with both culturally but also in personality naturally.

It should be no surprise that so many cultures follow an idea that feelings are left to be buried. Among Indians, this is no different. Of course, it is ridiculous to not believe that feelings exist as we are human and we have progressed to a growing discussion both within India and in the West on the topic. It doesn’t mean that our natural inclinations or our cultural upbringing simply disappear.

Unlike most within my generation (which sparks plenty of easy jokes on not having become a doctor), I had an inclination towards creative paths. However, as time has progressed, the notion of understanding creativity with personality have gone away. I recall doing a comedy show early on where we were “barking” at nearby venues (marketing the comedy show but really just bothering people who had no intention of going to a comedy show that evening). This was not why I became a stand-up comedian. Had I wanted to do this, I would have just gone into sales. I was fine as a performer onstage but quite shy with strangers off of it when I began doing comedy. However, it was the first indication that so much in life, including comedy, is more sales than it is the creative path you entered.

I of course progressed and honed those skills in the best way possible for me and that was comfortable and have managed two separate successful careers as a result. That’s not particularly the point here. The point here is my incapability and perhaps disgust in the need of our society to express every single emotion to the public when that is not in the fiber of my being.

I will provide an honest example. I express most emotions, but I don’t know how to be angry. I certainly have anger. But I don’t know how to express it. In fact, it feels inappropriate and wrong to express it. Frankly, the emotions I was raised on were so intermixed that it doesn’t even make sense. My father’s (and most Indian fathers) tone is just naturally loud. It doesn’t mean it’s anger necessarily, though sometimes it is and grew to be such a common tone within my household that it was almost laughable. There are a lot of cultures and nationalities that can likely relate.

If you combine this then with the notions of expectations culturally and in dealing with the American approach to perception, it is only natural that one can become stilted with their emotions. I was raised on basic dignity, equality, and treating others as you would wish to be treated. I was raised that my problems were not to be yours. So, for someone who is naturally introverted, it can be understood how easily emotions can become so internalized and also the more comfortable approach.

It is “better” that we all do express our emotions and that we share our feelings. However, it appears that we do so with little understanding to the other side, those that deal with their emotions privately and actually find society and social media’s flaunting of every single emotion off-putting if not entirely uncomfortable to one’s own psyche.

I have no choice but to accept the fact that when I made a decision to be a stand-up comedian or to pursue a creative path, I chose a lifestyle that would be public. I had become a public figure in Columbus when I was 21. For the past 17 years, I have been attempting to come to grips on how to navigate my own personality and emotions with a public sphere that has so dramatically changed and that is so counter to my own preferences.

In order to understand that all, I must go back to my own upbringing. I was naturally quiet to begin with. In general, it was not encouraged that we convey our feelings in a public setting (let alone really all that much even in a private setting). It was important to be hard-working, good to others, and not to push our own negativity onto others. In fact, it was better suited to cover up any negativity or possible ways that didn’t follow a high standard of success among the Asian Indian community. If anything, the pros and cons of this upbringing built me into the standards and work that I do today where ethics, honesty, and fairness are important attributes to me.

For whatever reason, this creative part of me molded itself into doing stand-up comedy. Given my personality, this was a surprise to most of my family and friends. But I loved stand-up comedy. In the same way that those attributes of my upbringing benefited me in the classroom, they did so on the stage. I was devoted to it and worked hard to improve myself both in my skills onstage and with the business components away from the stage.

My progress in stand-up comedy came at a fascinating time for entertainment, though. With MySpace and YouTube, the Internet and social media sites were becoming an outlet for experiencing comedy as well as being a marketing tool for live shows. This has only progressed on steroids over the past 17 years. With those steroids though, I’ve watched incredibly bizarre behavior progress, some of which is so counter to who I even am. So, I have modified to fit what is best for me (at the sacrifice, perhaps, of personal success) and yet at the same time I feel entirely disconnected from the reasons I became a comedian to begin with.

The most common way to experience live stand-up comedy now is not live at all. The art is still appreciated but more so via specials on streaming services or YouTube, Tiktok, and Instagram Reels. It is not to say that live performance is dead at all as many people are still enjoying live shows but the fact is it’s essential to have one’s stand-up comedy releasing consistently through the Internet to ensure people attend your live shows. The industry has flipped upside down. Gone are the days of Brian Regan honing his act and his fanbase from years on the road. Gone are the days of Jerry Seinfeld, Roseanne, or Ray Romano simply just being handed TV shows based off their stand-up comedy. Gone are the days even of recluses like Harper Lee or Thomas Pynchon possibly being notable writers. Success comes far more via a viral presence than it does via pure stand-up comedy or creative talent. Some may have an issue with that but I personally don’t. Things progress just as it did with Vaudeville to radio, radio to TV, and TV to streaming. Where I’m not comfortable with it is how it’s seemingly affecting daily life.

In the past year, I have seen comedians promoting live shows or themselves in whatever ways with near nudity, emotional pleas, crying, or literally just tossing a Venmo handle at the public for no meaningful reason. I’ve also watched this not be exclusive to comedians but also to people who simply are on social media casually and for no underlying business or livelihood purpose. These behaviors are so fundamentally against how I operate, my personality, and why I’m even a comedian. It makes me question if my friends and fellow comedians are doing this because this is who they are or because they’ve allowed an algorithm to dictate who they are. It’s also hard to not question my own personality and sanity if these are the prevalent behaviors we see on a daily basis.

This is not meant to be a political comment but more so an observation of our society. The day that the American voting public decided to elect Donald Trump as President was a day that we dictated for ourselves the future of our behavior. We allowed the standard to become that anything could be said, any emotion could be expressed, and the level to its accountability would never be clear. It was a clear indication that these kinds of behaviors would lead to earning the highest position in the world. So, how else can that not pulsate throughout every part of life? Creative people begin to share way more than they likely should via social media. So, too, does just your everyday suburban family. This all comes under the guise of personal expression or of marketing but then we have to ask ourselves a question: how much of who we are now are ourselves and how much is it the “brand” either an industry or social media is now thrusting on us to be? And, let’s be clear, a post-9/11 world only intensified that there is only so much emotion a man that looks like me can express without there being potential ramifications.

I do not write this for any sense of sympathy or empathy from readers. That is the major difference between my feelings and approach and how social media operates on a day-to-day basis. I see plenty of emotional posts with comments of encouragement from others. It feels more an addiction to your emotional problems than it does a resolution or improvement. I only write and share when I feel I’ve reached a comfort level to express it or that I’ve earned the ability to share it because I’ve reached a benchmark with it. I also write it because I imagine there are others who feel the same way, and in a world of loudmouths towards their emotions, there are few like us expressing things in this manner.

To the public (and perhaps even privately to those I’m closest to), I am lacking the same level of emotion as so many others. I simply don’t have that. I am working to understand that but also I can never be the level to the emotion that’s being expressed daily by what feels like the majority of my colleagues and society. I will admit that, having spent almost half of my adult life being a professional at it, it is difficult to be creative and a comedian in this current time when the efforts involved in being it via social media feel so absolutely absurd. Nevertheless, I will continue to do it in the way that I want to do it because I do love it and I stick to the standards and reasons behind why I chose to do it to begin with. That may not attain me fame, but you can likely tell from this entire essay, fame is not exactly something my personality would be yearning for. I also have to focus on ensuring my interpersonal relationships accept my personality and are understanding of who I am, something that proves to be far more difficult for the very reasons I indicated throughout this essay.

On April 25, 2015, I stopped drinking alcohol. It seems an essential thing for people who give up something so negative that was a huge part of their identity to recognize such a date and hold it to such high importance. Clearly, I remember the date. Whether I recognize it enough or cheer myself on as a result of it is my own choice. I’d prefer to be quiet about it. That is essentially who I am. That is essentially why I even drank in the first place.

A month after I stopped drinking, my friends Matt and Kristina got married. Weddings are interesting because it’s the greatest event ever for the drinker. Open bar, an excuse to be drunk, an excuse to celebrate, an excuse to be completely out of your element and it’s acceptable. And, there I was, at a wedding, an event that has always made me uncomfortable no matter how happy I am for the couple, having to not even engage in the one thing that could make me escape that total lack of comfort. I overjoyed at the after dinner coffee just so I could get some form of a stimulant. I enjoyed the wedding for as much as my personality could enjoy it but the bigger win was not succumbing to alcohol around a group of friends that I always had drank alcohol with.

With the release of my album in the late summer of 2015, I decided to go on tour as well, hopping in my car and doing shows in cities throughout the Midwest and the South. It was a wonderful experience for the sake of my love of comedy but also an immense challenge given my entire existence in comedy had intermingled with alcohol. I once again avoided drinking despite it being all around me.

I am naturally a quiet person. I was, at one point in my life, painfully shy. There are so many times in life that I was growing up that I did not like myself. I did not like who I was. I found myself dull. I found myself boring. Society saw me as lower for a variety of reasons and I was willing to succumb to that because I was already chemically depressed anyway.

In our society and certainly in the generation I was a part of, we were presented with alcohol as that opportunity to escape ourselves. It was an opportunity to be sillier, to be funnier, to be dumber, and it was not only accepted but perhaps praised in college and in your early 20s.

By the time I was involved in stand-up comedy, at 21, that was an environment even more absurd than any college experience. I was never interested in a fraternity despite attending a college so heavily into Greek life, but stand-up comedy was like a new fraternity where I was most accepted. It was a fraternity of people obsessed with comedy, of nerds, of writers, of individuals attempting to just cultivate something intelligent for the benefit of others. In Columbus, where at the time at least it was very much a drinking culture, combined with stand-up comedy, another drinking culture, it was the perfect combination for casual drinking problems to develop.

Stand-up comedy allowed me to gain an acceptance I hadn’t anywhere else. But it still was layered in a social component as well as a need to feel approved. Drinking was there to really hit on both of those elements. Not only did it work well in the escapism of the world of comedy, it also allowed me to escape myself – a person I couldn’t stand privately to deal with.

It’s been almost 8 years and the desire to drink for me is gone but it isn’t really. What I mean by that is I don’t yearn for the taste of an IPA because I love the taste of IPAs. If I yearn for alcohol, it’s because the root of the problem that led me to drink still exists and it may never go away. I’m addressing it as I have for the past 8 years. I’m improving on it. But it’s still there. All I can hang my hat on is the self-awareness I have and trying my best to continue to improve on that.

I don’t want to drink but it’s funny what makes me miss drinking. Sometimes it is as simple as characters on TV shows like Danny Rayburn on Bloodline or Armond on The White Lotus. It isn’t that these characters are admirable at all as they feed into their addictions through their own mental health issues. It’s my jealousy that they even pursue the option. It’s the fact they have that outlet for escape. I don’t have that anymore. I can fill it in other ways but nothing will fill it the way alcohol did – to fill it in a way that so changes your mind that you are no longer even yourself anymore. It’s horrible of course. But it’s a unique, special kind of horrible. A horrible that was still somehow acceptable when you’re high-functioning and had a strong enough control over it like I did. But now the control is in not doing it at all. That is where all my energy and strength goes. Understandably, even 8 years later, as strong as I can be, I also feel just as lost from that void.

Dealing with ourselves is interesting. On a personal level, I have a lot of confidence in myself and that I am intelligent. I know that I can deliver a great stand-up comedy performance for a variety of different audiences. I know that I am good at my job. I am proud of what I can and am able to represent to the public. Yet, I am still depressed. I still am, at my core, a quiet, lonely person. I still have a dark mind. It is the imbalance that naturally exists under the layer of public strength.

So many times I see people comment (particularly following an unexpected death) about how someone led their life and appeared to be so happy. This is even more obvious in our current times where social media allows and encourages us to express the most positive aspects to our lives and instills upon us to not even expose the negative for fear of its effects on our public persona. But, on a personal level, these are the exact issues to what I, “the quiet comedian” or “quiet alcoholic,” deal with. I’m sick of lying in just the most common, ridiculous ways to the world.

My friend and fellow comedian Andie Main once said to me that I have “resting existential crisis face.” This may have been a more accurate observation that any of the therapists I’ve been to over the past decade have provided me. In one sense, it’s very funny, but in another sense, I’m proud of that comment because it’s accurate to who I am. It’s an indication that I’m not lying to the world. It’s an indication that I’m being who I am. I can no longer provide fraudulent laughter or smiling to situations in the same way others do when it just isn’t necessary and isn’t who I am. At the same time, I can’t be lauded for having given up alcohol, but then be asked to interact with myself and others in the same way that I always had been before when I was using it. This is the part of the rebirth and re-establishment of identity that makes April 25, 2015 apparently an important day. I have to not only work to accept myself as quiet, analytical, and unemotional at times but have to attempt the public to accept that as well.

The very nature of what led me to drink was that I was quiet. In our social constructs, those that are more vocal are rewarded. So, I drank. I drank to be more vocal, to feel more accepted, to have something to help me to be more social. It all came from the fact that no one wants to be around the quiet person. People associate themselves with the life of the party, not the corner of the party. Alcohol helped me to escape the corner and grow the confidence to be the life up until my own self-realization that becoming the life for me could lead very quickly to being the death.

I was on my friend Josh Gandee’s wonderful podcast, “no proof.” At one point, we discussed the term, “alcoholic,” and the comfort level with considering one’s self as one and that it never goes away from you. On a personal level, I’m not sure I care either way because our society’s impression of “alcoholic” is all screwed up. By scientific and numbers-terms, probably every single person that was my friend in comedy in Columbus in the 2000s and 2010s were alcoholics but whether they chose to address it or not was up to them. It’s not as if they are alone because alcoholic behavior was and is just seemingly acceptable and goes unnoticed in so many professions. But when we think of “alcoholic,” we think of destroyers: destroyers of their own lives, of other’s lives, of DUIs, of embarrassments, the list goes on and on. That exists but there is a lot more quiet suffering going on as well. I didn’t go to Alcoholics Anonymous as my way to get sober but, at some of my lowest points, I did attend a couple meetings in L.A. simply to gain perspective for myself. Am I an alcoholic? Am I no longer an alcoholic? Was I ever an alcoholic? Who gives a shit other than me? What I had was a negative relationship with alcohol by my standards that led me to stop. The labeling really doesn’t matter as long as you remove yourself from the problem and address your issues in a positive way. So, as I use the phrase “quiet alcoholic” here, it’s not meant to define anything other than to speak to a large segment of the population who simply go through their depression or their addiction without the fanfare of how some interact with it or how society looks to depict it.

There is a thought as to whether alcohol can be moderated by someone who once had an abusive relationship with it. That’s up to each person to decide but that isn’t for me. Alcohol was escapism from myself and an escapism to an extreme. There is no moderate escapism for a man who does not like himself and wishes to fully avoid himself and his issues. So there is no moderate option. It’s absurd to me. Either I’m in or out. And, in order to really face myself, I must be out.

2022 has been a challenging and strange year for me to say the least. I could have easily relapsed. No one needed to know. Not sure anyone other than those closest to me would have even cared. But, with any of this, it ultimately comes back to one person really caring: one’s self. In the end, that’s all we truly have. There aren’t enough social media likes to make up for your own perception of yourself, your own ability to deal with yourself, your own path to find happiness.

24 lawsuits. 24 women. Somehow, this number isn’t enough. It’s not enough for the NFL. It’s not enough for the Cleveland Browns. It’s not enough for the mere thought of a Super Bowl and talent to eclipse organizational ethics and basic decency.

Even as the offseason began, the notion that the Browns would trade for Deshaun Watson was not even on my radar. Even though I had my issues with Baker Mayfield, it was best suited for the organization to see if he could finish out the final year of his contract in the hope he became “the system quarterback” that they needed. I don’t know the behind-the-scenes experience with Mayfield. What I do know is he embraced being the quarterback for the city of Cleveland. He tried even if what he did at times actually wasn’t for the betterment of the team. Essentially, he was Cleveland, all the good and all the bad that comes with both the city and its football team.

Then, he was tossed aside, as the organization romanced Watson, a quarterback who hadn’t played in a year due to a trade demand, to numerous lawsuits alleging sexual assault and harassment by licensed massage therapists hanging over his head, and to the possibility of criminal charges being held against him for these actions. However, once the criminal charges were dismissed, the floodgates were open. The Browns were not the only organization in the NFL interested. They just turned out to be the dumbest in an effort to win Watson’s heart.

Having not even resolved their situation with Mayfield, the Browns shipped three first-round picks, one third-round pick, and one fourth-round pick in the upcoming 3 drafts for Watson then provided him with the richest contract in the history of the NFL and fully guaranteed. They gave $230 million in guaranteed money to a man with 24 lawsuits hanging over his head. They gave it to a man whose entire behavior towards women appears bankrupt in a league with a history of questionable behavior towards women. They back-ended the contract so he can get all the money and not have it be affected by an impending league suspension in 2022 for this behavior. Even, on a purely football level, they rewarded a man who has yet to reach a conference championship game with the richest contract in the league. It was a slap in the face to the victims. It was a slap in the face to any sensible football fan. It was a slap in the face to reasonable Clevelanders who have seen this team be the doormat of the league for years and yet still cheered for them. In the NFL, Patrick Mahomes or Tom Brady may be the face of the league. But, in the NFL, money is what truly talks. In that case, Deshaun Watson is the real face of the league and what an appropriate face to represent this organization.

Essentially, any person knew there was the possibility there was more to come out. What else can happen when you take the difficulty of 24 women to share their story and then basically defecate on it by making the perpetrator unharmed by it, and in fact, richer? Victims appeared on Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel, and while I did not watch, excerpts from the interview were enough to just make me feel absolutely worse.

Then, this week, excellent reporting by Jenny Vrentas at the New York Times revealed a 17-month pattern of behavior in which Watson visited 66 different massage therapists, behaving in this similar manner, and appearing to have been enabled by the Houston Texans and a specific spa owner. It was behavior we’ve now seen far too often when big money and predatory men are involved. There were non-disclosure agreements, there were cover-ups, there were behind closed doors conversations and connections. Anything that allowed Watson to ultimately consider any massage therapist he encountered to be his own prostitute.

As a sensible human being, there is nothing really further to say than to listen and support these victims especially as the evidence mounts and more and more the notion of Watson as innocent becomes as much a fairy tale as a Browns Super Bowl.

As a Browns fan and a Clevelander, there isn’t much to say, other than bluntly: what the hell am I doing? In the wake of the Watson trade (which, again, I was tweeting my opposition to prior to the deal even being made let alone how completely absurd it was when they leveraged the future to make him the richest NFL player), a bunch of Browns fans took to social media to write, “Who should be my new team?” This is a really simplistic way of handling things. If you truly have a problem with this, then you should just give up on the NFL entirely and not pick a new team, because if we’ve learned anything, each of these teams has a problem under an organization that allows this kind of behavior and cover-ups consistently.

It begs a bigger question to who we are as people. Football and the Browns are so ingrained in any Clevelander at a young age. Sports drive conversations with friends and family members. It’s, as dumb as I know it is, a part of the mere existence of being a Clevelander. It’s the same in many cities across the country. So, we continue to be at the mercy of a history of civic connection that simply no longer exists when greed is truly what is important. Gordon Gekko said “Greed is good,” and while it is for the NFL, that good has been at the expense of any other potentially positive quality to why we enjoy sports.

All I find myself thinking right now is that the Browns are so low and so incredibly dumb. If the Browns were a person, I wouldn’t hang out with them. These aren’t the people I associate with. People so desperate to win that they stoop to this level of low? No thanks. I honestly would rather have a 6-11 team with leadership I respected. Yeah, it would suck to watch but at least I could live with myself.

I think many Browns fans probably feel in the same realm as I do. I’ve invested enough time in my life to watching the game of football that I won’t look away from it. I’ve also invested enough time in trying to be a decent, respectful human being that I genuinely don’t care if they won the Super Bowl this year or any year with Watson. It isn’t worth it. This isn’t how I wanted to win it.

I’ve written a series of different essays on here under the banner of “I’m Worried About You.” A meme was developed and I even have bookmarks on my website if you’d like me to look at you in worry. I care about people. It’s an awful thing really. I’ve also been through some stuff myself and so it’s hard for me to not notice or be concerned about mental health issues within stand-up, a community I am part of and care about deeply. So now it’s strange to actually write that I’m worried about a man I’ve never met before, a man that is probably now one of the most prominent stand-up comedians in the country, a man whose comedy I do appreciate and yet I find myself at a weird juncture with him. I’m worried about John Mulaney.

This began in late 2020 when it was announced that Mulaney was entering rehab. It made sense given the previously strange announcement that he was joining the writing staff of Late Night with Seth Meyers, a move that seemed beyond the level of where Mulaney was at in his career. It became obvious later this was a last-ditch effort on Meyers’s part as a friend to keep Mulaney close and his drug addiction in check.

Mulaney started making public appearances in the middle of 2021 and did, as many of us do, trying to work through his issues through stand-up comedy, a medium he is immensely talented at and can be a source of therapy. Soon, though, Mulaney made his first high-profile return to the public eye by being a guest on Meyers’s show. He announced in this interview about the intervention involving Meyers, a new relationship (with Olivia Munn) so soon after a rather public divorce, and that he and Munn had a baby on the way. On a general level, this was shocking but it was even more so for a person to be doing so soon after rehab and entering a new world of sobriety. Mulaney was making radical changes to the support system that is crucial with sobriety and with his life in general. Meyers comes off surprised and happy in the interview (whether pre-planned or not) and, as a result, is supportive in this public format.

Mulaney is next starting to work out his comedy material. He is on a “From Scratch” tour that begins on March 11 and takes him across the country for six months. Presumably, what he performed during last weekend’s SNL monologue is just a taste of what will be on the tour. It’s difficult to not imagine that a majority of what he will be discussing will be his addiction and rehab.

In most realms, everything that Mulaney has done has been lauded and considered inspirational. A look at all of the top comments on any recent Mulaney videos would tell you that. However, perhaps for some like me who have seen addiction and seen it in the realm of stand-up comedy, this is concerning and worrisome.

Mulaney’s comedy does not thrive on some sort of rawness and honesty. He will not be banging down on the doors for his “freedom of speech” as other areas of stand-up are currently fighting over for no particular reason. His comedy is well-written, clever, but perhaps even mundane. So, even stylistically, this is already a switch. The switch has worked for the sense of comedy based off his SNL monologue where, for a few minutes, he was able to highlight the sheer absurdity of his experience. I have no doubt that, for the sake of comedy, he’s capable of doing that for a full hour on his tour.

However, the experience of what his comedy presents doesn’t match up with reality. Mulaney has now become more celebrity than comedian. Due to his relationship with Munn, he feels more tabloid fodder than beloved by comedy nerds. In his SNL monologue, when he says “my girlfriend,” it’s not hard for the entire American public including myself in the back of their heads to go “Yeah, we know, Olivia Munn.” Essentially, there is no secret to what is being discussed here in his comedy which is really what is packaged and being sold to me as a consumer of that comedy.

Mulaney is not Richard Pryor discussing setting himself on fire. Pryor was a different type of comedian to begin with. Additionally, the mix of celebrity, comedy, and transparency just operate differently today than they did in previous eras of comedy (see whatever the hell is going on with Pete Davidson and Kanye).

So, for someone like myself who has experienced first-hand or been an observer first-hand of mental health issues and addiction, there is something odd and uncomfortable to what Mulaney is doing. Look at how he has presented himself and done so in such a speedy manner. He is a beacon of sobriety. He is in love. He is now a father. These are all things that would draw the most “likes” on social media and they have come out in the most public way possible which is not the way I have ever perceived of Mulaney in the past. Given that this is the most “likeable” ideas in our culture, it is not easy to be constructively critical of someone on such topics. However, with sobriety and mental health, the real honesty needs to be there. Mulaney now feels like many I’ve met or were close friends with in comedy. All I can see is the perceived happiness they put out there and hope for the best while feeling uncomfortable about how bad it could actually get.

Stand-up comedy is of course rife with a history of addiction and mental health issues. Yet we continue to progress with it no better than the rest of society. A suicide happens in our community and we pump out the hotline number and post to hug your friends as if that resolves mental health issues in any way. If someone goes to rehab, we portray support. But this is not just a game. An addiction at the level of Mulaney’s is not just some easy thing. Harris Wittels is a fine example of the other way it can go. So, pardon me, if a celebrity relationship with a famous actress that once dated a famous quarterback, fatherhood, and comedy about his issues so soon after rehab is more worrisome than hilarious to me as an observer and I’m not even close to Mulaney.

What’s deeply concerning to me is the adulation and praise that Mulaney is receiving over any type of possible criticism. His tour will be a success because Mulaney is funny but also how can any reviewer or consumer possibly ridicule a man so soon after becoming sober? So, for Mulaney, it will only be more encouraging that everything he is doing is right. If you understand relapse, you understand that any possible shift could make things fall apart quickly. And, in the world of celebrity and comedy, things can fall apart with both very easily.

I can only hope that the very people that provided Mulaney with an intervention are there for him and keeping him accountable today. I have no clue. All I can see is what I perceived as an awkward exchange between two close friends in Mulaney and Meyers for public consumption, and a public that really eats it up without actually wanting to take grip on the issues of it.

After 15 years of being a stand-up comedian, one consistent theme comes up for me. It’s people saying to me or introducing me in social situations with lines like “You’d never expect that he’s a stand-up comedian.” I’ve had every member of my immediate and extended family say that to me knowing me since I was a child. It’s consistently mentioned by co-workers in meetings with new employees. It’s something I hear from friends who knew me when I was young. It’s just a fact. My personality does not match up with the perception society has grown for the entertainer and the comedian.

Essentially, it does make zero sense. I was very shy when I was young. I still am to some extent though becoming a stand-up comedian and the public speaking that comes with it allowed me to overcome how deeply shy I used to be. I don’t yearn for attention and, in fact, I’m quite the opposite. In many situations, I’d prefer to go unnoticed. It’s only in one certain realm where I truly want attention: public speaking and stand-up comedy. It’s when I tell jokes on a stage. It’s when I have something meaningful to say to help or better people. It’s when I have the desire to entertain. Even then, I’m yearning for the appreciation and understanding component to performance, not necessarily the attention. I personally do not wish to be lauded. I want the words coming from my mouth that I created to be.

It has long been an internal battle for me because, in entertainment, career success equates to fame. In 2022, this is more relevant than ever. Gone are the days when Jack Handey could submit some of the funniest parts of Saturday Night Live without anyone knowing who or where he actually was. Gone is a structure where a comedian could simply release a special, have it evaluated by the public for its worth constructively and over time, and then just be working on the next special throughout stages across the country without any attention. Today, more is better. It is quantity over quality. It is the magnifying glass being directly on the comedian for whatever reason.

Opening for Reggie Watts, mesmerized anyone would want to take my photo.

I’m a stand-up comedian which, during the pandemic, has really led me to perform upwards of once a month on a live stage. In the meantime, I’ve found more joy in my creativity and comedy by putting out YouTube videos. I write stuff like this essay when I see fit. After 15 years, I’ve made the decision to interact with comedy in the best way possible for my personality and mental health and I’ve cultivated that for whichever audience out there may want that. I am comfortable and happy with that approach but that approach isn’t necessarily career success by how the average person or so many in the comedy business define it.

I don’t have a podcast. I haven’t had one since I was part of a duo that did a podcast on Cleveland sports 10 years ago (RIP Comedifans). At this point, it is almost absurd for someone entering comedy or really any industry to not have a podcast. In the podcast format, the louder you are, the better. The more insane comments that you make, the more possibility you have to be recognized. As a comedian, the more you hang your hat on “free speech” or toss yourself into the fire of the current culture war, the more attention you could get.

If you’re on Instagram or Tiktok (which you should be as a comedian), the more self-indulged you are, the better. The dumber, the better. The sexier, the more eyeballs you could have on you. The more important that you seem is lauded over the more meaningful you actually are. This is what happens when a society and entertainment becomes more about a “brand” than it does about substance. This is what happens when it cares more for what creates the dollar than what creates the happiness.

Comedy and society has never and will never be a meritocracy but the current format leaves behind many talented people and, in fact, for a new generation, would lead most of them to actually turn against who they naturally are in order to attain career success. Personally, I will forever be self-deprecating for that is who I am. I will forever be dry. I will forever never perceive myself as sexy because, you know, my entire youth was defined by my brain and not my looks and the extremes that went both directions on those fronts so that effect has persisted for the rest of my life (that continues to be handled in therapy, by the way :)).

Everyone lauds Mitch Hedberg and deservedly so. However, Hedberg had stage fright and obviously was painfully shy even as he was doing some of his early stand-up. So, as much as you love Hedberg, you should also have awareness that such future personality types may get eaten up because the business, our society, and our mindsets have never favored them and are on a path to only continue to do that.

In doing comedy, I’ve forever tried to rest on my dignity and my morals. I’m certainly old now by the standards of entertainment and so I’ve been through enough where I understand my place and am comfortable with wherever the trajectory may take me which is hopefully still up and an up that will be on my terms. I refuse to lie about who I was and who I am. I want to ensure that I am comfortable with my personality and my creativity both on and off stage. As a result, I am happy. I have never been influenced by what the “industry” or society tells me I should be and, trust me, there were opportunities to change that which I didn’t do which certainly had an effect on how my career or that “diversity showcase” may have played out.

But I am happy. I am quiet but I am happy. So, I write this just for the generation younger than me that is in comedy or on their way that may be like me to continuously think and analyze themselves. I want them to be able to find their happiness within comedy because that happiness isn’t going to come from the industry or the Internet. It has to come from within. Sure, I’m not some sort of household name in comedy but few are. I am a success at comedy and I know that even if others don’t. In fact with my personality, in certain ways, I don’t even want them to know that I am a comedian or a success at it.

To the general public, rather than consume what gets shoved into your face with the most attention and most drama, consume what you’d actually enjoy for your own personality especially if you are the type that embraces “the quiet comedian.” It’s better to embrace and uplift who reflects you and what makes you happy than to get angry at what you oppose that is presumably dominating the culture.

In Week 2 of the NFL season, Baker Mayfield threw an interception against the Houston Texans. Not one to give up on the play, Mayfield attempted to make a tackle and injured his shoulder in the process. At the time, Mayfield stated his shoulder “kind of popped in and out” but it was “nothing too serious.” As the season progressed, though, it became clear the shoulder injury was quite serious and the downplaying of it and the opining of “toughness” by Mayfield consistently each week has ultimately put Mayfield’s future with the Cleveland Browns and even as a starting quarterback under question.

This was supposed to be a major season for Mayfield and the Browns. The Browns had to decide if Mayfield was worth a significant amount of money in a long-term deal given to top-tier quarterbacks throughout the league. Mayfield, with a Super Bowl-caliber roster, was more than willing to take on the pressure of earning that.

Despite the injury, through 5 games, Mayfield appeared to be manageable enough. The Browns were 3-2 and had just come off an unfortunate shootout loss to the Chargers, 47-42, whose blame could more be attributed to Kevin Stefanski’s coaching and receiver drops at critical times than it necessarily could to Mayfield. However, it was another example of Mayfield not being able to lead and close out a game against a playoff-caliber team.

Things began to unravel during Week 6 as the undefeated Arizona Cardinals embarrassed the Browns and Mayfield in FirstEnergy Stadium. Mayfield was often swarmed by the Cardinals’s defense, his decision-making reckless in an effort to keep the team in the game, and he further injured the shoulder.

With a quick turnaround for a Thursday night game and the shoulder worse, Stefanski chose to start Case Keenum. Behind D’Ernest Johnson’s rushing and an efficient enough performance from Keenum, the Browns managed to squeak out a classically boring Thursday night game victory over the Denver Broncos, 17-14.

Even after an uninspired performance at home against the Pittsburgh Steelers, Mayfield and the Browns seemed to have life back again when they blew out the Cincinnati Bengals, 41-16 to move to 5-4 on the season. They looked like the explosive offense the team had last year with big plays on both sides of the ball and running back Nick Chubb leading the way with the complement of Mayfield’s arm.

A drubbing at the hands of the New England Patriots in Week 10 was the doom signal for the remainder of the season. Even if Mayfield assured that his shoulder was fine, it was apparent that it wasn’t, and he was only roughed up further in the 45-7 loss. It wasn’t logical even at the time as to why Mayfield shouldn’t rest instead of starting at home against the winless Detroit Lions. And yet, he did, providing a stinker of a 13-10 win that was largely aided by Nick Chubb’s running (trust me, I was at this mostly boring game, and the entire crowd was practically begging for Chubb to get the ball).

Mayfield then dropped the next 3 of 4 games he played in including a Ravens game in which the defense got 4 interceptions off Lamar Jackson and Mayfield threw 4 interceptions himself against the Green Bay Packers in another game in which the Browns defense truly kept them in and gave Mayfield a shot to win.

Mayfield’s stats for the season: he’s 6-8 in games he’s started, a 60% completion percentage, throwing for 17 touchdowns and 13 interceptions. I don’t have the advanced stats in front of me (I’m Sumukh Torgalkar, not Pro Football Focus) but he rates at the bottom of quarterbacks in the league in numerous categories and particularly disturbing is his 4th quarter output when the team has needed him the most particularly since they have lost 6 games by 6 points or less.

Throughout the season, Mayfield has said he has been ready to play the games. He has preached his “toughness.” He has said he’s giving 110%. That is nice and all but when 110% is resulting in producing losses and being more of a detriment to your team, how exactly is that beneficial? Even following last night’s loss to the Steelers, Mayfield said, “I’m an extremely competitive guy. Now it’s time for me to start looking at what’s in the best interest of me and my health.” Now is the time? Huh? In a league that supposedly cares for player safety, the best interest of the player’s personal health should be first and foremost. It’s nice that Mayfield is extremely competitive and he wants to be out there but if he’s injured to the point that it’s actually more difficult for him to play at 110% as opposed to giving 110% then why is he being played?

In the two games in which Mayfield didn’t start, Case Keenum and Nick Mullens each provided the Browns with a win and a potential win. It’s because the coaching staff actually worked in a gameplan that was appropriate for each respective quarterback. Though the Browns lost to the Raiders, Mullens did a phenomenal job with limited practice time. He didn’t do anything risky, was efficient enough, and the Browns were up 14-13 with the possibility of winning before a last-second field goal doomed them. They relied heavily on a defense that carried them throughout the year and have hopefully a turnover-free offense put them in a position to win such games.

Mayfield is now set to have shoulder surgery. As Stefanski put it today, “Throughout this whole thing, we have tried to make the right decision based on all the information available to us. Constant dialogue with our medical staff, with Baker, and throughout have really felt comfortable based on all that information that he was able to play.” Sure, he was able to play, but what was he exactly producing? How was an injured, “beat up” Baker Mayfield a better option than a healthy Case Keenum who you are paying $6 million per a year as a backup for this very kind of situation?

Mayfield also said in his postgame press conference “If anybody ever questions how much I want it, just turn on this tape. It wasn’t pretty, but I kept going, kept swinging; that’s who I am, and that’s what I will continue be.” Again, nice sentiment, but if your swings are completely missing and how much want you have isn’t actually helping your team, how is this beneficial for you or the team?

This is why Mayfield’s leadership and “toughness” mantra wore out its welcome quickly and why he, the Browns, and its fans are left with plenty of questions going into the offseason. The smart decision is for Mayfield to return and to hope that a healthy version of him will see at least similarities or progress from the 2020-21 season that saw him win the Browns’ first playoff game in 26 years. But, in order to so, he and the organization have to let go of this “toughness.” “Toughness” doesn’t matter if it’s not producing. It’s no different than a CEO preaching a bunch of corporate lingo but not actually producing any profits or caring about their staff. It’s no different than people who are workaholics. It’s great that you see yourself as “working hard” but are you actually creating good results through that work?

Yesterday, Dave Chappelle released a video on Instagram once again addressing the trans community primarily but also the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. The video was a way to continue this fight back and forth where somehow Chappelle and his choices have made stand-up comedy a focal point of the culture war that exists in America. It served as a way for an extremely rich man to claim he has been “cancelled” and to promote a tour of a documentary all while continuing to step on a community of individuals in the process.

I am not interested in discussing Chappelle’s special, The Closer, or even the substance of the comments or jokes of this video. Enough of the Internet is doing that. What I want to discuss is Chappelle’s tactics, his progress (or lack thereof depending upon who you ask), and what it means for the definition of modern comedy.

Overall, both Chappelle’s special and this small Instagram video definitively have contradicted years of who Chappelle was. His perspective sounds hypocritical, his points missed a universal approach that was understanding of everyone, and it defied the perspectives, thought processes, and approach to humor that he had in previous specials, interviews, or shows.

What stood out to me in the 5-minute Instagram video at some unidentified arena/theater (I will admit I’m too lazy and uncaring to research where) is the hooting and the hollering that occurs as opposed to the laughter. It’s the number of predominantly white men inexplicably standing in the audience. It’s this devotion to Chappelle. It’s this laughter towards him not out of the cleverness of what he says but out of an alignment to his beliefs.

What established the tone of Chappelle’s Show was its first episode in which Chappelle plays Clayton Bigsby, a blind Black white supremacist. There is a particularly hilarious scene in which Bigsby calls two young men listening to hip-hop in a convertible the N-word (at the 4:57 mark of the link). The young men, amazed a Black man accepted them with the N-word, high-five one another. It’s an extremely funny moment that speaks to the white perspective of Black as cool and the acceptance of being a part of that. But, for me, as a student at the predominantly white Miami University at the time, I understood the negatives of that and so did Chappelle as his show progressed. It eased white people’s ability to be racist. The content of Chappelle’s Show if misunderstood by white people could be used to strengthen racism as opposed to criticize it. It’s this realization that prompted Chappelle to leave for Africa. The audience was laughing at his jokes in the wrong way.

However, now 15 years later, Chappelle seems entirely happy cashing the checks. He seems entirely happy to cater to this same demographic that once prompted him to leave for another continent. He seems entirely happy to pride himself off referring to himself as the GOAT. He seems to thrive off the cheers more so than the laughs. He consistently reminds us and prides himself off walking away from $50 million while returning to make millions more and doing the type of behaviors and actions that a younger Chappelle presumably would have hated.

There came a point a few years ago where there was much criticism of something that, for lack of a better term, was called “woke comedy.” This was extremely progressive comedians for the most part telling points on stages as opposed to jokes and drawing more agreement and applause as opposed to laughter. There’s no problem in being capable of mixing good, accurate points in with humor but if there’s no humor (as was the concern with “woke comedy”), is this really comedy? If people are laughing but the points are not good nor are the points accurate, is this really comedy? I would be inclined to say it isn’t but maybe others don’t agree. But, regardless, I wasn’t opposed to the criticisms of “woke comedy” because it wasn’t making people laugh, it was just making them agree. I am sure Chappelle and his ilk feel the same way. And yet, Chappelle is now doing this same kind of comedy but in the other direction. He is consistently ridiculing a community, screaming “Bitch!”, or laughing and smacking his microphone for unclear laughter, applause, and approval. This is just “woke comedy” in a moderate or even conservative way.

I once again bring back the individuals who were standing watching Chappelle on stage. Why is this happening? What prompted audience members to stand for Chappelle at, of all places, what is defined as a comedy show? No one stands at a comedy show unless it’s at a shithole and maybe, at best, Doug Stanhope is performing. Comedy has long been ideally enjoyed for you to be seated and as tightly connected to other audience members and the stage as possible. We want our audiences to be a bit uncomfortable while getting the comfort of laughter. That isn’t the case at all with this clip from Chappelle where it almost feels as if the inmates are now running the asylum.

This is where, to me, the comedy show is now feeling more like a comedy rally. If you look at many comedy club’s calendars, off-nights (Monday through Thursday) are now usually filled by YouTube stars, podcast hosts, or content creators who can fill the club with their audience. This tends to be individuals whose humor is either mindless or they became famous touting free speech and their headshots have the American flag in the background just to emphasize that or they became popular off conspiracy theories or they become popular off straight up hate. It’s difficult to not believe that these such stars are bringing rallies to clubs as opposed to actual comedy shows. They are bringing hooting and hollering as opposed to laughter. It’s fine for the comedy club to do. That’s their choice for their bottom line. But then this isn’t the feel of what a comedy club actually has been known to be. This isn’t the culture a comedy club should be preaching. If it is, then it’s more a rental hall than a comedy club. It’s a space to cash in money than a space to provide laughter.

So when I see Chappelle, a comedian highly influential on a generation of comedians including myself and the self-proclaimed GOAT, on a stage with the same kind of feel happening in the audience, it begs some serious questions about the direction of comedy. Are the audiences now more inclined to full throttle just want to agree with statements at shows? Do they want to laugh in a manner that feels more like Donald Trump’s kind of humor than it does an actual professional comedian’s? Are our most prominent comedians making audiences more inclined to cheer than to think and laugh?

In 2016, as the Cleveland baseball team was in the World Series, I wrote about how the team’s logo was a subject of conversation yet again. I wrote about being a fan and having no problem with the team changing their logo and in fact I encouraged it needing to happen.

On Friday, the organization announced they would be changing their team name to the Cleveland Guardians.

Of course, as is the case with everything on a daily basis in American society, people took to social media. Everyone from Cleveland fans to random people who probably haven’t watched a single baseball game this season to the “cancel culture” fools expressed their opinion. But what they seemingly don’t get is nothing has changed from what I wrote 5 years ago on what drives such a change. It all involved money and power. As a result, the decision and what the name ultimately became all came from a business side and a marketing department just like every other rebrand that exists in corporate America.

The owners of the Cleveland Guardians, the Dolan family, never expressed any desire to change the team’s name for over a decade since purchasing the team in 2000. They either avoided or were against such a change when the subject was brought up. It wasn’t until Major League Baseball commissioner Rob Manfred and the league put pressure on the Dolans to change the team name. And, while he denies it, it seems likely the incentive of holding the All-Star Game and the money that comes with that was appealing to the Dolans. Once again, it was all power and money in the big league offices.

A logo change requires time which is why, needing to do things immediately, we now have a Washington Football Team. Such a decision, though, has led to an awkward year (and possibly additional year) in which “Indians” continues to be used and said. It’s odd in that we accept this is wrong to use as the team’s name and logo and yet our commitment to such names as identifiers for teams keeps the media saying that name for some inexplicable reason.

After so much time of speculation, the organization chose Guardians. Was it the right choice? Who knows or cares? If the organization wanted to really follow history, they should have selected Spiders, a past name connected to Cleveland baseball. Guardians had the most cheap marketing savvy, though. It allowed the team to keep the same colors. The logo has remained in a sense with “-dians.” The organization could tie the Guardians name back to local history with the Hope Memorial Bridge. Do I as a Cleveland area native feel it’s a perfect reflection on the city? Honestly, if you want to talk about traffic, the now probably inappropriately named “Dead Man’s Curve” is more notable for Clevelanders. There are other figures and statues such as Cleveland’s Fountain of Eternal Life that stand out to me personally. But, again, it’s whatever.

As I mentioned in 2016, I watch baseball and sports for the community aspect and to follow the team from the city where I was raised. What their logo is has and never will matter. If you sit around and care deeply about how a logo change impacts your history as opposed to an oppressed group’s history and it clouds your mind more than the fundamentals as to why sports are an enjoyable and beneficial part to our society, then the problem is honestly on you.

Conan on TBS has aired its last episode, which puts a 28-year late-night run for Conan O’Brien to an end, and thus concludes a time period of comedy that inspired an entire generation of comedians like myself.

I recall summers when my cousins from Pennsylvania would come to visit us. My brother had a 13” TV in his room and we would watch late-night TV. This, of course, included Jay Leno and David Letterman along with Conan. But somehow the onslaught of O.J. jokes from Leno didn’t match up to us like the cleverness and goofiness of Conan. We’d much rather do our own little impersonation of “In the year 2000!” and laugh to ourselves. But late night was important to all of us who loved comedy in the 90s. It was our introduction to joke writing, stand-up, sketch, improv, and interviewing.

Of course, as much as I loved comedy, I had no expectation at that age that I would actually become a stand-up comedian and join this group of individuals that I appreciated so much. Whenever someone starts in comedy, of course they follow who their influences were and what in their comedy brain led them to become a comedian. On the same front, why wouldn’t one then aspire to follow in the footsteps of those that influenced them or, better yet, work side-by-side with them?

So, of course, like probably every other stand-up comedian, I wanted to be on Conan. There is something uniquely special to watching a comedian perform a tightly done 5-minute set on a late-night sound stage. For two generations ago, it was getting the invitation on the couch with Johnny Carson. For the previous generation, it was making Letterman laugh. But, for my generation, it was performing in front of Conan, instrumental via both The Simpsons, Saturday Night Live, and his late-night shows in carving our own comic sensibilities. And, of course, like so many other stand-up comedians, I never appeared on Conan. But like many comedians that care, I was proud of my friends in comedy that did get those moments on that set.

I suppose the dream was there much like it was with my album recording in 2015. I wanted to do a set on Conan because I love Conan. I love stand-up comedy and the show and its audiences clearly did, too. I wanted my family and friends to have a moment like that with me. I started doing comedy in Columbus, Ohio so I wanted that for that city and its comedy scene. But I’m certainly not alone. I imagine so many other comedians feel that’s the same reason they want that moment or that late-night set.

I suppose I could look back at the “What ifs?” or what more I could have done. I did submit a writer’s packet for Conan when there was an opening. I could have asked more questions or utilized my friends who had done sets on the show. They say with every field that if you really want it, you go out and get it. They say with every field to work hard and that hard work will pay off. But I’ve always felt there’s a fine line in show business. There’s being kind and inquisitive and there’s also being a pest. I prefer the former if that hasn’t been obvious. So, for better or worse, my determination comes from actually doing comedy and navigating the business in the way that I want to as opposed to pestering everyone possible to accomplish a 5-minute dream. I can’t be Leno hiding in a closet for his chance at The Tonight Show.

I could be disappointed that I’ve never done stand-up comedy, something I love so dearly, on national television. But I’m not. I certainly still would love to but I don’t harp on it because I have to reflect on the accomplishments I have done. If I’ve learned anything doing comedy for 15 years, it’s that in this business, the biggest accomplishments are wonderful but then they fade immediately. Every performer then has to get back on the horse. Had I done a set on Conan, it would have been a great memory that I would have enjoyed for the rest of my life, but a few days later, it would have been on to the next pursuit in comedy. The business of comedy is brutal. The most important thing, to me, is to find happiness within it. And, strangely enough, no one probably knows its brutality at its highest level better than Conan who had the pinnacle of The Tonight Show stripped away from him within 6 months.

On social media as this final week of Conan winded down, I could see everything imaginable from my fellow comedians. I could see the gratitude from the ones that appeared on the show. I could see the jealousy from the ones who didn’t. I could see the self-deprecating humor from the ones that know they now never will. But, regardless, I’m a stand-up comedian. I would have been blessed to be on Conan but I’m just as blessed never having been on because I still got to experience Conan. I’m happy I was influenced by him and his late-night shows and I became determined in my own comedy because of it. It is the same reason Norm MacDonald being the final comedian on Late Show with David Letterman may be the best late-night set ever. You get the full feel of the impact of stand-up comedy and of late night on those who have loved it.

In a way, none of this matters. Well, generally, comedy doesn’t. But also late-night is becoming something very different than what it once was. I am a part of the last generation to really experience late-night in its original form and be influenced by it. The manner in which the current and future generations of comedians interact and experience comedy has and will change. Whether it’s YouTube or TikTok or whatever else comes in the future, the newest comedians are starting younger and being influenced by people you and I have likely never even heard of. There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s progress.

On February 10, 2007, Joe Rogan confronted Carlos Mencia at The Comedy Store over Mencia stealing jokes from many comedians. I had been doing stand-up comedy for less than a year and, along with Michael Richards’s notorious performance at The Laugh Factory, these were the pinnacle “viral” moments of that year. In 2007, Mencia had more popularity than Rogan. The incident led to Rogan being banned from The Comedy Store at the time.

Flash forward now 14 years and things are dramatically different for both Rogan and Mencia. Mencia has been outed as a joke thief and perhaps a sociopath and his career has never been the same as he travels around the country doing shows that last long enough that comedy club staffs are likely falling asleep. Rogan, on the other hand, has become the most influential comedian in the business to the point that somehow he was considered a legitimate debate moderator by former President Donald Trump.

How did we get here? How did Joe Rogan go from being a man that stood up for joke authenticity and the “code” of stand-up comedians to a man encouraging you to not get vaccinated and giving a platform to voices that are everywhere from conspiracy theorists to flat out racists?

Rogan’s rise from basically the host of a show where people eat disgusting stuff to an actual influential political voice is admirable. He was on the forefront of comedy podcasts and his The Joe Rogan Experience aligned perfectly with the rise of UFC and his status as a commentator with that sport. In its early days, The Joe Rogan Experience was an impressive show. I was amazed at Rogan’s ability to have an engaging conversation that led to podcast episodes lasting sometimes over 3 hours. But, with the right guests, the listener didn’t get bored. That’s a skill in a medium where 1 hour is usually sufficient before a listener starts tuning out a voice or subject matter. Rogan brought on his quality friends in comedy or even within UFC and had conversations specific to those topics. Sure, he’d have the occasional alien talk with some sort of expert in that field or would get inquisitive about mind-altering drugs, but for the most part, it was a grounded, casual conversation.

At some point, things went off the rails. Part of that came with Rogan, for reasons that are unclear to me, no longer taking responsibility for what was being said on his podcast as if he was unaware of its huge popularity. The early days of The Joe Rogan Experience were over. No longer could Rogan simply have casual conversations with his guests, be “too high,” or any other such relaxed excuses especially as Rogan began to discuss far more serious issues in the political and social spectrum and doing so with guests completely unqualified to be talking about those subjects. Rogan’s guests included his certain stable of comedians from Tom Segura (hilarious) to Tony Hinchcliffe (WTF?) to Brendan Schaub (he is not a comedian). And, yet, Rogan continued to do that. He continued to have free-flowing conversations with no fact-checking under the idea that it is comedy but was actually having a serious, influential impact on his hardcore fan base.

This is, depending upon who you ask, more insulting and offensive than the joke theft Rogan so prided himself on exposing. Forget Denis Leary dancing on Bill Hicks’s grave. Forget Mencia taking a small, hackneyed joke from Ari Shaffir. This is now as if Leary is telling you not to vaccinate yourself based off no facts. This is now as if Mencia gives a stage to racists and anti-trans speech without any counterpoints. Rogan has become worse than what he supposedly once stood for in the comedy community.

The disciples of Rogan who have no doubt found success due to their connection to him and his podcast only have continued the lack of responsibility. Bryan Callen and Brendan Schaub toured during the pandemic spreading COVID-19 to themselves and others while spreading conspiracy theories on the topic. Andrew Schulz’s Netflix special (which I admit I’ll never watch) apparently contains a bunch of material lacking facts and blaming China for COVID-19. Chris D’Elia took no real accountability for his sexual misconduct, chalking it up to addiction and thus insulting all addicts in the process of trying to resurrect his career. And then there’s Tony Hinchcliffe who recently was simply racist towards his host (a.k.a. co-worker) on a show in Austin.

When you offer no rules to individuals lacking rules to begin with, you bring out all the worst of the Wild West components to comedy. Lenny Bruce may have opened the door but now Joe Rogan is shitting on it. Yes, it’s amazing to have “free speech” but if we take no responsibility for what we say and do no research on what we’re speaking on, then comedy might as well just be a lunatic screaming on a park bench. And, in some ways, it has become that. There are no punchlines, just random insults with no actual joke structure. Give Mencia credit. At least he stole jokes that had punchlines. Rogan is just endorsing garbage to be spewed under the guise of comedy.

It saddens me because I actually like Rogan but I like a Rogan from another era in comedy. I like a Rogan that stood up for the younger comedians. I liked a Rogan that stood up for the ethics of comedy. I also like a Rogan who is an intelligent, analytical UFC commentator who clearly knows his stuff on mixed martial arts. That Rogan has taken a back seat to whatever he is now as a podcast host and political influencer. Now this Rogan is the one that punches down, is one that makes no effort with his mind or with his humor, is one that honestly will keep the money rolling in for the more ridiculous, the more inaccurate, and the more controversial.

To this day, just as I did when I started doing comedy in 2006, I research what I talk about in my jokes. It’s important to me that, given the opportunity to have a stage, I provide an audience with accurate details related to my humor. It’s a matter of authenticity and it’s a matter of respect. But with the nature of how comedy is operating now where the lines have become so blurred that the satire has now become the actual comedian, that kind of responsibility and mutual respect is disappearing. I’m actually more incentivized to spew inaccuracy, hate, and confusion. How that is considered beneficial for society and entertainment is beyond me but I suppose that’s what happens when you operate more on “clicks” than laughs and more on “freedom” than responsibility.

Yesterday, Jay Leno formally apologized for decades of cheap jokes at the expense of Asians. The apology came in connection with Media Action Network of Asian Americans (MANAA) who had long been pointing out the issues with Leno’s jokes dating back to when he was host of The Tonight Show. Leno’s apology is good in a sense but also meaningless.

Leno’s jokes are just a continued part of a long history of making Asians the butt of jokes. It’s not as if I haven’t written about this topic before. Whether it be my own experiences or even the experiences of Suey Park attempting to call out Stephen Colbert’s easy Asian humor, the history of comedy coincides with a history of ridiculing Asians for their accents, for their cuisine, for their penis sizes, for every single aspect of their humanity.

So, does it help that Leno is apologizing? I suppose. In a time in which “cancel culture” is reigning supreme, one side will use this moment as Leno covering up for the potential that he could be cancelled for this material. The reality is that Leno is simply doing what many comedians including myself have done. He’s addressing that his past material was inappropriate and insensitive and that he should have been better. Leno was simply a victim of history and American culture but also a victim of himself and his place in comedy.

In that sense, Leno should have been better. As recently as 2020 on America’s Got Talent, Leno made a joke about Koreans eating dog meat. That “joke” died decades ago but Leno thought his lines more acceptable in the early 2000s without social media backlash and still hilarious among an older audience that loves his comedy, would go over just fine on national television. Leno admits “in my heart I knew it was wrong.”

That admission is the part where I can be critical of Leno. Few of us in comedy have any level of power. But when you’re the host of The Tonight Show inheriting that from the great Johnny Carson, you’re one of the top people in comedy. Leno knew “in his heart it was wrong” and yet he went for the easy punch down and the potential easy laugh. This is where Leno’s comedy will always be criticized as unfunny because it was an old-style, cheap laugh approach that catered to a different generation of comedy.

I have a lot more respect for Leno than maybe other comedians do. I did watch The Tonight Show as a kid. If there’s any comedian that “did his time,” it certainly was Leno who would drive and do gigs in the 1970s in the strangest spots where comedy didn’t even belong. He did strip clubs. He’d perform for mobsters. And, even when he got huge, he understood the value of money and that he could fall out of entertainment’s limelight at any moment.

But my problem with it always comes back to the old adage (whether it be Voltaire, Spider-Man, or whomever) “with great power comes great responsibility.” Leno had the power to deal with this decades ago and to have this realization and to be funnier than this. He didn’t do it. Now, not with the kind of comedic power and gravitas that he once had, his apology and his willingness to talk about these issues don’t hold the same weight. To some, it’s “too little, too late,” and to others like myself, it’s “Thank you, but what more will you do about this?”

As we mark a year of dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s obviously been rough. The pandemic has affected so many different livelihoods and communities.

Hundreds of thousands of Americans have died from COVID-19. This on the top of the deaths from so many other causes that we experience every year. Death doesn’t escape any community. It certainly doesn’t escape the comedy community.

Death and how we look at ourselves in comedy has become complex. Comedians are already a generally dark group of people prone to depression and so we likely think about death far more than others. But we’re in particularly odd times as to how we look at comedians as individuals. Seemingly, for every comedian that dies, there is currently a comedian that is alive being constructively criticized for their behavior. For every Chris D’Elia that’s alive getting accused of problematic behavior, there may also be a comedian that died whose behavior was grounds for criticism as well.

When a comedian dies, there’s a certain outpouring that comes on social media from the comedy community. It’s understandable. We’ve lost one of our own, many times at a younger age than expected, and it feels necessary to share our experiences of that comedian. There are many memories. There is total praise. Sometimes that praises come from comedians who barely knew the comedian that has died. In true comedian form, some of the posts feel more about themselves and narcissistic than they actually are about the deceased individual.

Stand-up comedy is a wonderful community but we’re also part of a business. I’ve met so many comedians over the 15 years that I’ve been in this business. I envy some of their performance abilities. I can’t stand some of them. I may be the closest friends with some of them. I may have just worked with one of them one time. It’s a job. These are also colleagues. And so, in death, I personally at least pause to determine if it’s worthwhile to even share anything. I always feel saddened by the death of a comedian. But if my grief is general over someone that I simply worked with minimally, I tend to remain silent. The comedian is best remembered by those who knew them well.

Sometimes with the death of a comedian we see other comedians share phrases like “He had issues” or “He had his demons.” It’s a simple way to hide what were likely serious issues. Even then, in death, we laud this comedian’s abilities despite those issues. This is because the comedian has died. We knew them (or we barely did and for some reason are commenting) and the right thing to do is to reflect on their life in the most positive way possible. The most positive way is what they would do on a stage.

However, how can we laud the comedian’s ability while disregarding “the demons”? These were “the demons” that no doubt inflicted a worse existence for themselves, the people closest to them, and likely others in comedy. From my vantage point, it is unbelievably strange. In life, these were comedians that were ridiculed or distanced from by other comedians. But, in death, the other comedians praise this comedian for their work? It feels highly hypocritical and self-absorbed in an industry that day-by-day on social media feels more hypocritical and self-absorbed.

Richard Pryor is the greatest stand-up comedian of all-time. He also lit himself on fire by freebasing cocaine. His drug addictions destroyed some of his personal relationships. No one denies his talent but his biography cannot remove the “demons” from it. It makes me wonder how Pryor would be looked at if his behavior in the 1970s and 1980s would play out today in the 2020s. How would we look at Richard Pryor if he died today? And this doesn’t just go for Richard Pryor, this goes for every comedian that goes down the pecking order all the way to the road dogs to the most annoying of people who show up at the open mics and call themselves “comedians.” Even those individuals at the lowest of rungs get praised on social media in their deaths.

It’s remarkable to watch someone who does stand-up comedy so well. But, maybe at least to me, it’s more remarkable to watch someone who does life on this Earth even better. The reason I stopped drinking almost 6 years ago was to deal with my “demons.” I started to taking an antidepressant and to go to therapy to address the “issues.” I wanted to grab a hold of my life and, essentially, a hold of my death.

Many times when I’ve seen these various all-praising posts on social media of comedians, it’s hard to look at. It sometimes comes off as self-serving by the comedian who posted it. It’s honest but it’s also not the full picture and it clouds my own perception of the comedian that has died. Of course, that comedian was immensely talented and they murdered on stages or they had a funny story this person wants to post and share. I also know the dead comedian screwed over other comedians and people closest to them. As great as they may have made comedy and life, they also may have made it much worse. So, perhaps the “demons” outweigh the comedy ability? And, perhaps, it’s hard to have some thorough love and idolatry for comedy when you know that the “demons” lurked far too often to destroy that love.

Perhaps I’m getting soft to some or perhaps I’m just getting older and more reflective. I’m 36 and I’ve already seen too many of my friends and colleagues die. But, whenever I do die, sure, it’ll be great if people were entertained by my stand-up and reflect on those moments. But I much rather hope they reflect on who I was as a person and that the actual components of reality and life had a meaningful impact on them. Comedy shouldn’t overtake life. It should be the side dish that adds to life. And what we see now with comedians, whether alive and being criticized or dead and gone, is a continued confusion where the comedy and the life it brings has clouded their decisions and their reality.

I split time between living in Los Angeles and the plains of Colorado from 2017 to 2020. Given the circumstances in America, this gave me a particularly unique experience. I lived amidst the supposed “Hollywood elite” and liberalism of Los Angeles and also the supposed backwards MAGA-loving world of rural America. I also am a Brown-skinned man, which provides an additional unique experience in both environments.

I grew up in suburban Cleveland. I went to college in the town of Oxford in Southwest Ohio. I lived in my 20s in downtown Columbus. Being a stand-up comedian out of Columbus gave me the opportunity to perform in towns I would not have otherwise known even existed not just in Ohio but in many states across the country. It prepared me for all possibilities in my existence. After one show, a man in the audience casually told myself and a fellow comedian (who is Black) about the sundown hours that were still on the books in the town. We slowly and politely got the hell out of there.

In general, my experience in rural America, much like Los Angeles and any other place I’ve lived, was good. Our home was remote and so our nearest neighbors were a half a mile away from us. My interactions with them were fine if we would even see each other. There was a wave and a smile and perhaps a quick conversation. The philosophy was pretty clear: you do your own thing and you’re left alone. And, if you haven’t gotten to know me at all, then you’ll know that I’m good with that philosophy. There still, though, was a sense of community. When it would snow (which could be heavy and lead to drifting with the high winds of the Plains), a neighbor would come by to plow everyone’s driveways. We’d make Christmas cookies each year for our neighbors. It’s not as if there wasn’t interaction, awareness, and general positivity.

I work from my home and so I obviously did not work in any of the neighboring towns or even was reliant on the local economy. What limited interactions I had were at my favorite places in town: the gym, the hardware stores, and the veterinarian’s office. Again, it was all generally seemingly positive. But, let’s be clear as well: I was a Brown man who looked more Arab than Latino (the only other racial minority population within this community) so I knew that I stood out. I mean, the census taker said she’d “seen me around town” even though we’d never met before.

As a stand-up comedian, I am of course a bit insane and so I often would do early morning running in my “neighborhood.” This would be long stretches of miles of running on gravel roads with usually no one but rabbits and deer around. But, on occasion, a truck might pass by. One time, a neighbor who had never met me before, slowed his truck down and asked, “Are you lost?” I chuckled and explained to him that I lived in the area and where I lived and then he understood and the conversation was pleasant. But, of course, the mind escapes to Ahmaud Arbery and similar such situations where no matter where you are in the country, as a person of color, you are vulnerable. And, it’s more so even possible here as the only person of color that stands out in an area where I’m well aware every one of my neighbors owns a gun.

We often harp on the differences between urban spaces and rural areas and the people within them. In some cases, these differences are warranted. In others, they are not. And, most likely, the differences are still just wrinkles in how our country and society as a whole operate. For example, the challenges of a person of color in Los Angeles as opposed to the Plains of Colorado are different but they are still extensions of the same overall societal issue. In the example I gave, some random person could clearly kill me while I was running in Los Angeles. However, I feel that it is at least a major city in Los Angeles with a diverse population and vocal individuals towards injustice. Even if I am dead, much like the many number of people of color who have died in such a manner, there is a large population that will speak to the injustice and that are fighting to ensure such an act will not be repeated again. There’s still a certain safety in an otherwise unsafe environment.

In rural America, this isn’t the case for the person of color. To begin with, I am already an outsider. I did not grow up in this town nor this area and towns like this still do rely heavily on “legacy families.” As such, they operate in a certain way based off the history of the town. Let’s also add to that a history of racism in this country, that I stand out as a person of color in a predominantly white area, and that there are no others really to defend me on any possible sense of injustice. I don’t have the connections to be cared for whether just generally as a person let alone as a person of color.

Following the death of George Floyd and the rise of people actually caring about Black Lives Matter, that was my biggest concern. There were so many areas of the country where not only were people of color at a higher potential for experiencing backlash but they also may not have any support system to prevent them from that backlash.

2020 was a complicated year for many reasons but, for the sake of my family and personal and work decisions that were great opportunities and best suited us, we moved from the Plains of Colorado. A part of me did not want to leave because I did enjoy the peace and solitude of the area. A part of me also felt guilty because I felt as if I was leaving behind an area I was at least in for 3 years and had some kind of mild impact on. I mean, I think I can say confidently that I was the “Colorado Plains Comedy Scene” and the one show we organized did generate $1100 for mental health services in the area.

When I reflect on my opportunities to live in such spaces, I can’t help but look at the downfall of both urban settings and rural settings and the gridlock over pride, politics, and insults that make the conversation between these areas so terrible. It’s why President Joe Biden preaches “unity” but why I roll my eyes at such a simplistic concept. Let us admit: Los Angeles and the major cities have problems and rural America has problems. If we coalesce and be honest and listen to each other and improve them, we make the country better as a whole. Unfortunately, we’ve allowed ourselves to not actually look and explain facts and history to make it better.

In Los Angeles, a city with a terrible history on race and police brutality, it is no surprise that the focus is on the treatment of authority towards people of color. This does not hit home nor is relevant to rural America, which prides itself on its police and law being a part of its protection and its community. But, when your rural community has next to no people of color, how can you really understand the battle on the issue that exists within the major cities? This is why it was very easy to spin to Republicans and most of rural America that Black Lives Matter protesters were rioters and destroying property which was clearly rare or, in the cases that it did happen, an escalation of the pressure of years of racism in a specific city.

In rural America, while there may have been protests (one I even participated in), the effects can’t possibly have the same impact when the intimidation of the Blue Lives Matter/All Lives Matter crowd was far more prevalent. We could protest but we better be as peaceful as we possibly can be or these people could kill us. Even then, they may kill us even just for protesting. This is the significant difference of being of color in rural America as opposed to the metropolitan city.

But, on the other hand, what appears to fuel rural America’s anger is the determination that the major cities or the Democrats or whomever are inflicting their ways upon that area. To some extent, this is understandable. The community that I lived in was entirely reliant upon farming and agriculture. Who the hell am I to say how their farms should run or what is best for them? But, at the same time, Trump became the first sitting president in 27 years to personally attend and speak at the Future Farmers of America conference in 2018. As a person of color, we often speak of representation and awareness, and if as a farmer you get that from the President of the United States, it’s understandable how you find yourself connecting and aligning with him. We can sit back and debate over Trump, the trade war, subsidies, and farming, but that isn’t what I want to get into. The Democrats failed in the simple step with farmers of just acknowledgment over a long period of time.

President Biden can preach “unity” but it is far more complex to unite these states of America at this point. One of the great difficulties that I had with rural America and social media was people’s strong ability to be swayed by memes, conspiracy theories, and other notions that were just not based in fact but fit the perspective they wanted. It’s not as if everyone within social media isn’t possibly affected by that in some way no matter their perspective but it’s certainly magnified in these communities and in right-wing environments. On the rare occasion I may discuss political issues with someone in the area, it would be with a person that I had met before, and had seemingly found a good and positive relationship with. And, yet, often they would find themselves defending their perspective constantly. Rather than listening, they just kept talking. They would rather believe memes, videos, and the Internet than a person they’d actually met and my experiences. It didn’t make me happy because that is not how I would handle a similar situation. If they wanted to talk to me about farming, I’d listen to them on it. I wouldn’t spew knowledge I heard from some random YouTube clip as what are the facts specific to their situation and perspective.

And, so, this is the great disconnect that we deal with. We can’t have unity unless there is a battle to change the anger and how people are gaining their knowledge, thoughts, and perspectives. Whether it was masks or social justice or Jeffrey Epstein, the 2020s have gone off the rails in how people gain their information and their mindsets. And, from what I can tell, it’s getting more and more extensively bad in both the secluded rural environments and in the major cities. It’s just that each has its own challenges and each also wants to give their opinions and insult the other on the issues.

So, what’s my point? I’ve been critical of Los Angeles on its issues like gentrification. I’ve been critical with Trump supporters on their issues. No area of this country or its people are perfect and yet they purport themselves to have the right perspective with such certainty for whatever reason. And such certainty only gets magnified either via social media or media outlets looking to raise controversy rather than journalistic integrity.

Whether it be the urban space or the rural space of America, the person of color is in a sort of prison, its levels of that Panopticon dependent upon the environment. We do what we have to do to survive in a society that operates in a certain way. I have clutched my hands on my steering wheel when pulled over by police in the predominantly Black neighborhood of Franklin Park in Columbus, Ohio and on a highway outside Sidney, Nebraska. I’m as polite as I can be as a Brown man in a place where I’m self-aware I am a Brown man either in a city that inflicts pain upon about Brown and Black men or on a rural area that has no Brown men. 

The warning signs were there. I wrote so many essays on this very website about the interaction of comedians and depression and social media behavior. Here’s one. Here’s another. Here’s this on Facebook in particular.

Two days prior to my birthday in November, I deactivated my personal Facebook account. It’s amusing in a way since one’s birthday is really the only time Facebook allows you to be lavished in feeling some degree of goodness. Everyone from random strangers you met once to your closest friends wishes you a Happy Birthday (or HBD when they really want to show they aren’t trying) and you’re showered with it being your day. Then the other 364 days of pure misery on this social media platform happen. Did I deactivate my account because I watched The Social Dilemma? Was there too much politics in advance of the election? All the multitude of reasons you can think of probably did play a cumulative role in my decisions.

But the honest fact is this: too many comedians are miserable and depressed and are doing nothing about it. Not much has changed in the years since I wrote all those essays. And, with the nature of Facebook’s site and algorithms, I was sick of observing it.

The fallacy of the marriage of Facebook and comedy is that it is mutually beneficial. There is a notion that Facebook provides a great tool for self-promotion especially when it comes to live comedy events. I can’t fully deny its accuracy. I certainly had people attend my show in Los Angeles due to seeing the public Facebook event. Facebook still has the most users of any social media platform and covers the wide range of ages. As a result, yes, it’s the best way to connect and remind people of your regular and most important events.

COVID-19 and the social distancing that followed shuttered events and live performance. If there was any benefit to that, it also exposed the total lack of purpose to live comedy being on Facebook. The behavior of many comedians that are miserable and have depression truly amplified. We could all observe that what little self-promotion that may have been occurring prior to COVID-19 was really now all about self-aggrandizement and self-destruction.

Over the years, many comedians have complimented me on the essays that I’ve written on here. I appreciate that and the whole purpose is the hope that they and others will improve themselves. Yet, in the years that have followed, I’ve watched as some of those very same comedians haven’t improved at all. They took into account nothing I wrote. They are still miserable, depressed, and clearly not getting the help they need. They aren’t even challenging themselves with comedy at all whether it be creating something new or being funny in any way on Facebook. They are just depressed and complaining and subjecting their Facebook friends and certainly others on other social media platforms to that.

Due to COVID-19 and the resulting pandemic and reactions, 2020 has been an extremely challenging year for all of us. We’re all dealing with a mountain of personal and societal issues. However, in comedy, we also have the Internet and the mountain of opportunities that can come from it. My YouTube channel is doing well and providing me creative drive at what I love about comedy. It gives me a lot of happiness to see random people entertained by my videos and that the videos are helping them through this pandemic. Many friends and fellow comedians are seeing success via TikTok or Twitch. So, there are a multitude of avenues comedians can take to have comedic success or gratification in these times. Yet, there are so many comedians just languishing. They are allowing their comedy to solely be about complaining, depression, and themselves.

Facebook wants the drama. So, of course the sadness and depression goes to the top of our feeds. When you post something like this, you get the comfort, support, and encouragement of strangers. But guess what? They don’t actually give a fuck about you. And in the years that have passed on Facebook, I can see that you’re not actually giving a fuck about yourself.

Within comedy and outside of it, I’ve probably averaged knowing one person a year who has died by suicide. It sucks and I’ve come to grips with the fact that they died of a disease. The mental illness got them like any other disease would have. There is only so much I could have done.

Throughout the nearly 15 years that I’ve been a professional stand-up comedian, no one has ever truly known what I’ve been through. No one knows how I addressed my depression and the alcohol consumption that covered my 20s in comedy. No one knows how I dealt with the same issues at an even higher magnitude with the person I love. I didn’t complain constantly for the Internet to see. I addressed it and my support system of close friends and family (weirdly enough, most of whom aren’t even on Facebook or barely interact with it) were the ones truly there for me.

Hopefully you can understand then why I deactivated my Facebook account. I was watching too many people who claimed they were bettering themselves not better themselves at all. Who in the world wants to consistently watch someone burn? No one wants to observe a slow destruction let alone when they themselves are dealing with internal issues of their own on a daily basis. Facebook consistently heightens and rewards sad stories over the winning ones. It consistently reminds you of misery if you’re willing to post about it. But if you’re willing to truly address your depression and truly address your comedy, you’re truly rewarded when you deserve to be: when you’ve gotten sober or happier or achieved a truly remarkable feat in comedy. Those are the type of comedians I care about at this point and are truly proud of.

I’m in for a really complicated 2021. My partner is having knee surgery again so I have to be a caregiver for her. I basically have to run our entire house and our animals while also working my job and also finding the time to continue to create comedy because I love it and because that is also profitable for me. Is that level of stress good for my depression? Obviously not. Am I complaining about it constantly to my followers and friends? No, that’s just not my nature. It’ll resolve nothing. It’s another challenge to take on and hopefully be rewarded with later with the type of creativity I produce as well as ensuring that those closest to me and that I love are also rewarded and at their healthiest. I suppose the reality is that I am old now and have my priorities. I don’t have time or care for the bitching of other comedians especially the ones that should know better by this point and simply don’t try.

There are a ton of us in comedy like me. There are comedians with multiple kids. There are comedians with jobs outside of comedy. There are comedians making ends meet. I know they deal with depression, too. But they pick the right opportunities to be open about it in an effort to make themselves and others better. They don’t just consistently bring it up to make themselves and others miserable. These are the comedians that I love and support because they are a lot like me. They’ve grown as well and watched their personal lives and their comedy advance despite all the negativity, personal demons, and other components that can come with both this society and the comedy world. I cheer on and support those comedians.