Burnin' For You

Burnin' For You                            4010  (142)

Friday, March 24, 2006-8:30 A.M.

Getting ready to head out for the big weekend at Wiseacres Comedy Club in McLean, Virginia, just outside the shadow of the Washington Monument, The White House and all of our beloved structures that remind us of an America that Used To Be.

Last night was a one-nighter at a club called "The Furnace" in Orchard Park, New York, and it was their first or second comedy night ever, and they drew accordingly.  There were about 15 people in the place, and while the owners were just as cordial as you could possibly be, that doesn't make up for trying to get the laughs out of 15 people, most of whom were not even there for comedy, but to just enjoy a few drinks at the bar, and then all of a sudden, there's this fat guy trying to make with the ha-ha's.

I opened up with some rudimentary crowd work and found that seven of our guests, who were in the age group of semi-retired to geriatric, were expatriate Britons who were now living in Upstate New York.  I'll give them this...they lived through the Blitz, the punk revolution, and every dank, dark, rainy season that England could give them, and then retired to the armpit of the snow belt.  Nice job, Limeys.

Anyway, they weren't into the show at all, and the rest of the crowd hugged the bar like it was a piece of driftwood and they were just enjoying cocktails on the deck of the Titanic a few hours ago, and except for a few "mercy chuckles" from headliner Mark Reedy, I might as well have been giving a eulogy for the town mooch.  Not fun.

Mark, with his high-energy style, was just about as lost, although he kept it moving, and after getting paid, he hauled ass out of there.  I don't blame him; my company is nice, but this is the type of gig you just want to get behind you.  I got paid by check, which I'm not thrilled about, but given the circumstances, they obviously didn't have the cash on hand to pay me greenbacks, so I took cold comfort in knowing that at least the check was drawn from the bank I do business with...if there's a problem, at least I have some recourse.  I don't think there's going to be a problem, but I'm cashing that bad boy first thing before hitting the road.

I'm working in D.C. with headliner John Marks, a new name to me in the comedy world, and I always look forward to meeting someone new in the comedy biz, for the purpose of networking.  Hopefully some of the D.C. locals will hang out and do the pal-around thing, but if not, it's only a two-day engagement, I'll survive.  I'm thinking about renting a panel truck and spray-painting the word "bomb" on it and driving up Pennsylvania Avenue.  My career could probably use a little media hype, and I think that might get me some, even if it's that shitty, "Up in the water tower with a rifle and a scope" fame.  Ah, maybe I'll stay in my hotel room and read blogs.  That might be a better journey towards an unincarcerated me.

More reports as the weekend progresses.  Keep building those weapons of mass dissatisfaction.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY