Ralph Tetta's Comedy Roadtrip

A Christmas Story

2011-12-24T07:41:00.000-08:00

A Christmas Story

Cold and crisp, the smell of Winter
the smell of wanting
ice crystals likerefracting diamonds
Darkened chimneys jut towards the sky
hungry fangs in thepurple twilight
thin wisps of soot rise
This is the night
cool and quiet;most holy night
Virgin snow lay on cold, hard ground
ashes and soot serve to
spoil the down
smudge on a child's face
And then a horn,
a bus' brakes;
all out of place
Walk in the snow
crunch crunch crunch
neon window
but the store's closed
We celebrate the birth of Christ
but the Prince of Peaceain't there in no
outlet shopping mall
He is out here;
He is with us
crunch crunch crunch
Smoke rising, ham and beans cooking
no sirens tonight
Silent, holy night
crunch crunch crunch
Follow the star past the street light
walk in the desert
most holy night
a walk up a hill
Crown of thorns and an icy chill
cross on your backand toys in the sack
crunch crunch crunch
Here, tonight, no room at the inn
navigate by stars
in a mange
ron a bed of hay
My mother on a donkey's back
to Bethlehem
a miracle
that the Lord has made
Feet are weary
eyes in a glaze
and I see Him
Place a bill in a beggar's cup
and He is here
bring happiness to every child
and He is here
tend to the weary, old and sick
and He is here
give all that you have of yourself
and He is here
Mission accomplished, I head home
soft smell of pine
no footprints but mine
my nose and cheeks glow
I walk in the snow
crunch crunch crunch

A Christmas Story

2010-12-08T11:42:00.000-08:00

A Christmas Story
11/30/93, revised 12/8/10

Cold and crisp, the smell of Winter
the smell of wanting
ice crystals like
refracting diamonds

Darkened chimneys jut towards the sky
hungry fangs in the
purple twilight
thin wisps of soot rise

This is the night
cool and quiet;
most holy night

Virgin snow lay on cold, hard ground
ashes and soot serve to
spoil the down
smudge on a child's face

And then a horn,
a buses' brakes
all out of place

Walk in the snow
crunch crunch crunch
neon window
but the store's closed

We celebrate the birth of Christ
but the Prince of Peace
ain't there in no
outlet shopping mall

He is out here;
He is with us
crunch crunch crunch

Smoke rising, ham and beans cooking
no sirens tonight
Silent, holy night
crunch crunch crunch

Follow the star past the street light
walk in the desert
most holy night
a walk up a hill

Crown of thorns and an icy chill
cross on your back
and toys in the sack
crunch crunch crunch

Here, tonight, no room at the inn
navigate by stars
in a manger
on a bed of hay

My mother on a donkey's back
to Bethlehem
a miracle
that the Lord has made

Feet are weary
eyes in a glaze
and I see Him

Place a bill in a beggar's cup
and He is here
bring happiness to ever child
and He is here
tend to the weary, old and sick
and He is here
give all that you have of yourself
and He is here

Mission accomplished, I head home
soft smell of pine
no footprints but mine
my nose and cheeks glow

I walk in the snow

Crunch

crunch

crunch

It's Not Really All About Me

2010-11-17T00:30:00.000-08:00

November 17, 2010

I'm on day 27 of a 31-day tour, and due to a cancellation, I've got the day off. I'm holed up in a hotel in Meridian, Mississippi, and just killing time.

One of the great things about the internet is that you become a time-killing machine. I looked up an old friend (who happens to be another comedian) and was looking at their website and noticed an interesting feature; they had a series of "favorites" listed, and I thought I should have that sort of list.

Now, the thing about "favorites" lists is that it's reflected glory; it's like saying "Here's the things that I think are cool," and if you agree, it will elevate my status in your eyes. However, just because the moon reflects the light of the sun and doesn't have any light of it's own, it's still pretty awesome. So for right now, just consider me your caffeine-infused moon, shining some reflected light and maybe we'll enjoy the evening.

Favorite Food: Well, let the fat jokes fly here....did I hear someone say "seconds?" In real life, I'm a meat and bread kind of guy....cold cuts are good all the time, for any meal. Capicolla, salami, turkey and roast beef are all good, depending on mood. I'm not a ham person, not for any religious reason, just not a fan. Bologna is good, but it has to be thick and fried.

Favorite Color: I like blue a lot, although black clothing works better on me. I like splashes of color, too...like a mob guy dressed in a black suit with a red carnation in the boutioneirre...perfect.

Favorite Musician: This isn't really my friend's next category, but the closest approximation. I would have to say Bruce Springsteen, and while I'm not completely in love with his 21st century output, there's still enough that I can stand behind, and his early work holds up against anything I've ever heard.

Favorite Old School Rap Video: Uhh....911 Is A Joke by Public Enemy? Can I phone a friend?

Favorite Book: I'm partial to George Pelicanos and Elmore Leonard, but none of their work stands out as a complete favorite. I'd have to say that my very favorite book is "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" as I've re-read it several times and recommend it to just about everyone.

Favorite Movie: Ghostbusters. Best movie ever made, bar none. Even better than "The Blues Brothers."

CD In The Car Right Now: I don't have a CD player in the van, but Sattelite Radio has been working out. Listening to a lot of punk rock, metal and then switching up to acoustic coffee house stuff for a change of pace.

OK, so there's a thumbnail of the stuff that I enjoy. I hope you enjoyed my list. I'm not sure who exactly would benefit from this information, but if you're a fan, I'm not going to question your motives.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

I read the news today, oh boy

2010-11-08T19:04:00.000-08:00

November 8, 2010

I'm in a hotel room. It's where I spend most of my time, if you were to draw up a pie chart, it would be the biggest or next biggest slice.

Hotel rooms have a variety of amenities, and some are better than others. There's always a TV, but no rhyme or reason to the number or variety of channels available from city to city. I only have a handful of channels I'll actually watch, and in the absence of those, I'll read.

I can get through an average newspaper in about 15 minutes; most of today's print journalism is "rip and read" stuff from the wire services. To beef up the content quotient, I'll grab the local independent newspaper that each big city seems to have, and is always free for the taking.

At their heart, they are all the same, although some have higher journalistic standards than others. Some are particularly targeted toward the college audience, some flesh it out to a decidedly liberal circle, and some make a nod towards the right-hand political spectrum, in an attempt to be all things to all people and sell some ads. That is, after all, the game for print journalism.

The weekly independent newspapers all seem to follow the same template and carry the same features. Again, some have higher journalistic standards. Today I was in Atlanta, and picked up the newspaper "Creative Loafing," I'm not sure, but I think this is a franchise publication that allows publishers in various cities to localize the content in order to have a decent consistency and still be relevant enough to each locale to sell those ads.

Examining this week's issue of CL starts out with a cover story on Hollywood making overtures towards Atlanta as a new mecca of film and TV production. The story itself doesn't start until page 20, but there's a photoshopped picture of the "Hollywood" sign that has been changed to read "ATL Wood," which will probably get some folks to pick the paper up out of curiosity.

Open the publication, and the first two pages are advertising; full page ads for Bud Light featuring an Atlanta Falcons logo (in the summer, it will turn back into a Braves logo), and an add pushing the Cirque Du Soleil appearance at Atlantic Station.

Turn the page and there's another full page ad for H&M (I'm guessing it's a clothing store) and then the table of contents, complete with "bullet" quotes from the articles, including one that features the word "fucking" in a large, red font.

After some more ads, there's the "Best Bets for the Week." I've never been sure if these are really the best bets for the week, or just the biggest names or the advertisers who got soaked for the most money. For instance, this week's best bets, in a big city like Atlanta, include DJ Shadow (never heard of him, and the photo that's printed is HUGE), Pinch n' Ouch theater staging "Lobby Hero" (never heard of the company or the play) and then something called Ninja Puppet Shenaniganza (never heard of it, but wish I'd thought of it). There are appearances by Mike Birbiglia and Amy Sedaris, and then there's the Decatur Wine Festival and the Chomp & Stomp Chili Cook-off. I'm willing to bet these are not really the best bets that Atlanta will have to offer this week.....it can't be.

There's a news story covering the elections, and a news compilation of blotter items featuring strange crime stories from around the ATL. There's a guy named Chuck Shepard that does a syndicated column called "News of the Weird," and I never understood how a guy could get paid for a column like that, because the stories write themselves.

As I flip the page, what is looking me right in the face? Chuck Shepard's News of the Weird column....I didn't plan that at all, but I think it illustrates my point how derivative these papers are.

There's some more news, and then an editorial by the Editor, and no shortage of block ads all over this thing. Either Atlanta is prospering or ads are dirt cheap in this magazine...regardless, there's a good balance of advertising and content...neither overwhelms the other.

There's a restaurant review. That's a racket....you go in to any restaurant you want, anonymously, and eat, and then write an article praising them or tearing them up. I've always wondered if there were reviews we never read because the food or service were great, but the place didn't buy an ad. Or better yet, the food and service were terrible, but they did buy an ad, and the review got re-written.....hmmmm.

Then there's the obligatory "Dining Guide." This is a grocery list of restaurants, grouped by specialty, and it's usually either a bonus for advertising elsewhere in the issue, or sold just as a listing as a cheaper way of getting the place's info in the magazine rather than a block ad.

There's an article about a dance troupe; it's a nice touch, but writing about dancing is like singing about painting. It does it's job, though, catering to the artsy-fartsy folk who like that sort of thing and donate money to public television so they can see it at home. The next item is a review of a Book Festival, again, published (I think) to give the publication an air of class. More on this later.

As the entertainment portion of paper begins to blossom, there is a movie review. Movie theaters are big advertisers, and this is part of the unspoken covenant; you buy ads in our mag, we will write reviews of the movies you're showing to try and get folks to come out and pay to see them. "Fair Game," the movie chronicling the Valerie Plame outing, and starring Sean Penn and Naomi Watts, gets three stars out of five; that's a bit of a weasel move because it's admitting that the film is mediocre, but still teeters on the favorable side of the midpoint, indicating that it's a movie worth seeing.

The heavy-duty music portion of the mag starts to kick in, with a huge feature story about a local (white) rapper named Yelawolf, and then there's some show previews for a bunch of club acts, as well as a grocery-list style ad for the local rock-metal-techno barn, featuring shows like Dimmu Borgir and Enslaved, and trumpeting upcoming shows from Marcy Playground, Atreyu and Over Kill (those guys are still touring? Of course they are....they're too far gone to stop now).

There's a page of record reviews, brought to you by some self-important weenies on the music staff, and again, in the spirit of log-rolling, each of the three reviews got a four out of five stars, and I guarantee you that any normal human would rate these albums at one star or less; music reviewers have a tendency to push an agenda (like what I like, see?).

The reviews are followed by the grocery listing of events; there's two ways to do this: either run a calendar that breaks out each day, or group events under style of music. I personally like the daily listing, but the genre grouping helps weed out the crap a little quicker. Just a note; the Atlanta listing didn't show any standup comedy venues, which has me a little worried about the genre, to be honest.

Now we're getting to the coup d' grace; the sexual advice column. I'm not sure if these columns are of any use, I've never had an STD and they always seem to deal with that. But at any rate, the column is the gatekeeper that lets you know you are about to enter the back pages of the publication, the dirty, dirty back pages known as the strip club ads, "massage" ads, and the ads for phone services where you can call escorts or just have someone talk dirty to you for 99 cents a minute. One thing that never ceases to amaze me is the number of ads featuring transvestites; apparently that's big business right there.

Classified ads are always a serious money-maker for a publication, sometimes they're locally produced and sometimes they're syndicated national classified. Again, it's a cut-and-paste money-maker for the publication, so what do they care?

Last but not least, sometimes they'll have some "counter-culture" cartoon strips...the one that I see most often is "This Modern World" by Tom Tomorrow, but there are dozens out there. Even the ones that aren't very clever are still better than "Mallard Fillmore"...the guy that writes that is a dick, and he's probably old.

So I guess what I'm saying is that even though alternative press seems to be pretty derivative, mostly unoriginal and unnecessarily artsy to make up for the last five pages of smut that actually allow them to run a profit, they're still worth picking up and thumbing through, even if you don't have a venereal disease and think all new music sucks.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

We Don't Talk Anymore (Cliff Richard)

2010-11-06T20:20:00.000-07:00

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I was looking up something (namely, a blog dealing with my cat's death) and realized I haven't blogged in a long time. To be honest, twittering and updating my Facebook status have taken the place of blogging for me.

Sorry. I wish there was more.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Niggah, please.

2010-02-14T06:54:00.000-08:00

For Valentine's Day, I offer you a little candy heart. A piece on language from Lenny Bruce, as portrayed by the actor Dustin Hoffman in the movie "Lenny." You can find this clip on YouTube if you are so inclined.

Are there any niggers here tonight? Can you turn on the house lights, and could the waiters and waitresses just stop serving for a second? And turn off the spot. Now what did he say? ''Are there any niggers here tonight?'' There's one nigger here. l see him back there working. Let's see. There's two niggers. And between those two niggers sits a kike. And there's another kike.That's two kikes and three niggers. And there's a spic, right? Hm? There's another spic. Ooh, there's a wop. There's a Polack. And then, oh, a couple of greaseballs. There's three lace-curtain lrish Micks. (getting in the face of a large black man in the front row, who glares stoically) And there's one hip, thick, hunky, funky boogie. Boogie, boogie. Mm-mm. l got three kikes. Do l hear five kikes? l got five kikes. Do l hear six spics? Six spics. Do l hear seven niggers? l got seven niggers. Sold American! l'll pass with seven niggers, six spics, five Micks, four kikes, three guineas, and one wop. (to the black man in the front row) You almost punched me out, didn't ya? l was trying to make a point, that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness. Dig. lf President Kennedy would just go on television and say ''l'd like to introduce you to all the niggers in my cabinet.'' And if he'd just say ''nigger, nigger'' to every nigger he saw, ''Boogie, boogie, boogie, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger,'' till it didn't mean anything any more! Then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school.

Did Lenny get it right? In the 1950's, when segregation and Jim Crow laws were still prevalent, he probably did. However, today, we have experienced what Lenny talked about. The "N" word (so vile that we dare not speak it's name) has become workaday, commonplace, and no black kid comes home from school crying because someone called him a nigger. Because someone probably did, and it was most likely another black kid. And it doesn't mean anything in that context. Now if I, as a white man, used the word, I might get a few seconds grace as my intent was decoded, but for the most part, it is not allowed. And it shouldn't be allowed. The "N" word is a sword in the hands of a white person for which the black person has no equivalent. I'm Italian, but if a black man called me "wop," I would feel nothing.....that pejorative has it's roots in an immigrant situation of over 100 years ago. The same goes for "Dago," or any other slur. In fact, the worst thing you can call a white man of any extraction is "racist," which conjures a profile of low breeding and lack of education.

The NAACP (an anachronism in itself...blacks have rejected the label "colored" generations ago) held a funeral for the "N" word a few years ago, in an attempt to discontinue it's use by blacks. By and large, the funeral was a failure, because we continue to hear blacks desecrate the corpse in everyday conversation. Does that mean the "N" word is a ghost, risen from the dead? And if it is a ghost, is it fair to call it a spook?

Ouch.

And dropping the final "r" is no tonic, either. Proclaiming to someone "that's my niggah right there" is only a bastardized (white) attempt at using the word without saying it (or sayin' it), and it is false in it's conception and in it's usage. You cannot have your cake and eat it too, chocolate or otherwise.

One thing is for sure, the word is never going to go away. It is part and parcel of a situation that exists in American society, one that declares that what whites want from black people and what blacks want from white people are two different things; whites want blacks to assimilate (talk like us, dress like us, live like us) and blacks want whites to get out of the way (give us our own culture, our own style, our own slang, our own ways). It is uncomfortable when a white person uses black slang or adopts a black style, because it is seen as stealing (and it is). We chide these people as "wiggers" (white niggers) and their company is enjoyed by neither whites nor blacks because they are offensive on two fronts; to whites, they refuse to assimilate and to blacks they refuse to get out of the way. Eminem managed to cross the cultural barrier, (but only with Dre' holding his hand and helping him navigate the stormy waters) while Kid Rock did not, and instead became embraced by lower-class, disenfranchised white kids from the cornfields of Iowa (where such culture must be adopted because surely no reasonable substitute exists).

Richard Pryor famously visited Africa and was asked "Do you see any Niggers here?" (the unspoken answer being "no"), and the reason the answer was no was because they did not have the sense of wretchedness present in the black underclass of America (now largely joined by poor, uneducated whites in large numbers). I have no cure for this condition. Until we find a way to raise everyone up, in education, economic status, and human dignity, we will continue to hear the "N" word, and every funeral, mispronunciation, or hip, comic treatment won't do us a bit of good.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T09:17:00.000-08:00

I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new year, just as I have done for years. This year, unlike those in the past, finds my mind filled with questions and my heart filled with uncertainty.

The arguments against Christmas are fairly common, and you've probably heard them before; the discussion of Christ's birth not occurring in December and the celebration being held in the winter to coincide with a pagan celebration as not to get early Christians into hot water; the argument against the crass commercialism of the holiday, the drive to spend more, the hectic pace of the holiday and the entire month that precedes it.

I've been brought to question the entire holiday in a crisis of faith; I discovered this year the parallels between the life of Jesus Christ and the Egyptian god Osiris. Osiris, otherwise known as "The Good Shepherd" was a savior god who died and was resurrected, was born of a virgin, was baptized by a man who was later beheaded, and was betrayed by a close confidant. When I was young, I was always sceptical about religion and later came to trust in Jesus Christ, and now I'm growing sceptical again. If Christ is nothing more than a construct, cobbled together using elements of Egyptian mythology, then my religion is based on a lie and my faith is unfounded. If Christ is really the Messiah and his tale has been embellished by men, then I question their purposes for the deception and don't know what exactly to believe. Christmas, then, falls under the microscope and becomes suspect either way.

I would happily follow a false religion, or a true religion that was "beefed up" with pagan lore, so long as that religion helped me live a just life, be kind to my fellow man and do no harm. In that case, I would welcome the deception. The one factor that keeps me hanging on is that the divinity of Jesus Christ is so widespread and has been so strong throughout history that I find it hard to believe that so many were successfully misled, but the parallels to the Osiris myth (that predates Christ) are hard to ignore. It is difficult, to say the least, to swallow the idea that it is simply a coincidence.

I dealt with this crisis of confidence for about six months, and then December 7th came and it was time to put up the tree. So, then, I decorated my house this year and put up our Christmas tree, largely for the enjoyment of our five-year-old, Harmony. I explained that the giving of gifts to children on Christmas was a tradition to remind us of the gifts that the Magi brought baby Jesus, but she didn't entirely understand it; she just knows that Santa Claus has eight reindeer, nine if you count Rudolph, and that the front porch was pretty with the multi-colored lights, but that we needed some reindeer or a snowman or Santa Claus (maybe next year...I cut down two trees in order to decorate the porch this year).

A screening of A Christmas Carol starring Patrick Stewart the other night also brought pause; the tale by Victorian author Charles Dickens addressed the ills of his time. Dickens was commenting on the poverty caused by the industrial age and the subsequent harsh treatment of the poor in England. Using the formula of the day, Dickens identified a social problem (the mistreatment of the poor by the wealthy and powerful), symbolized that problem with one character (Ebeneezer Scrooge), caused that character to go through trials (the visitation by the three ghosts representing memory, empathy and fear of death), and finally to undergo a conversion (purchasing a Christmas goose for the Cratchit family, raising Bob's wages and becoming a "second father" to Tiny Tim.

This brought pause because it is the first time I have ever seen a production of A Christmas Carol and fully understood the message; this is not the author's depiction of the conversion of one man, but an attempt to cause society, his society, to look upon itself and correct what he perceived to be their grave mistakes. That is what I wish to do. There are too many in this country that feel that we all must "go it alone," that government, which represents the common will and common desires, is intrusive and oppressive rather than supportive of our collective well-being. We spend on guns without thinking but weigh the price of butter, we trumpet personal responsibility but whimper in defense of the weakest among us. We wish each other Merry Christmas without much thought as to how likely that is to the recipient of our well-wishes and in the absence of that likelihood what we could do to insure it or provide it.

We need to change that, and fast. We need to be lovers of men and not profit, fearful of ignorance and want, celebrants of our families and our communities and our children. We need true joy, whether it come from the deep abiding faith in a messiah, born in a manger two thousand years ago, or in the smile on the face of a child who looks up to us and trusts us to maintain the spirit of generosity and protection, or to allow ourselves to soak in the presence of our fellow man, tipping his hat and wishing "Merry Christmas," and knowing that Peace on Earth is something that resides in all of our hearts.

The Miracle (Queen)

2009-11-09T20:20:00.000-08:00

Well now.

Thanks for checking in. I always appreciate anyone who reads me, particularly these days when there's so many other things going on; war, economy, health care, angst, rhetoric, reality TV shows, sports, etc, etc, etc.

I'm a comedian, but when I blog, it's never funny. I intentionally write it straight, for the purposes of having a journal that my daughter (or anyone who cares) can someday peruse to see what it was like being me. It's a tool to capture the essence of my day-to-day life, working as a professional entertainer.

Well, last time around, I talked about some medical issues I had with my kidneys. I was scheduled for a CAT scan and was waiting for the insurance company to give the thumbs-up.
Instead, they stuck the thumb in my eye.

The rejection letter read, in part; "Based on CareCore medical necessity criteria for 72912-CAT Scan of hips without dye: the history provided of a 42 year old male with recent worsening kidney function does not demonstrate sufficient medical necessity to justify certification of the examination at this time. There is no evidence of flank pain, blood in the urine or other clinical findings or conditions indicating the requested study."

I was given the right to appeal, but basically my doctor was told to move forward with my treatment without the opportunity to fully diagnose my condition. The thing I was never able to completely understand was the statement that there was no evidence of blood in the urine, when that is the condition that prompted my nephrologist to order the test in the first place.

I was angry when I got word that I was rejected. I'm sure a lot of that was fear, but it came out as anger. For a few weeks, I worried that I might have cancer, kidney failure that would lead to dialysis, or who knows what else. The cancer situation is one that we talk about quite frequently in comedy. These days, a lot of clubs are smoke-free, but when you're an old war-horse like me, you've spent many a night in a comedy club that looked like London when the fog rolled in. Cancer is starting to make its presence known in quite a few comedians, and we've already lost a few.

My nephrologist decided to go forward with blood cultures. I provided all the blood they asked for, about 11 tubes, and a urine sample. I had to go back once because they merged two of the samples, one had to be kept warm and the other kept cool, and they put 'em together. On Thursday, I saw my regular doctor, and he prompted me to make a call to the nephrologist. I did, and received some wonderful news.

My nephrologist's assistant told me that the blood was gone from my urine. The bacteria had disappeared, too.

While I was down in Texas and Oklahoma the week before, I had some chest congestion that turned out to be a minor strep infection. Due to the fragile nature of my kidneys, it was manifesting as blood in my urine (bacteria, too, but you couldn't see it). I took three days that I had off to rest in a hotel room, drinking water, cranberry juice, taking zinc (I'm not allowed anything stronger) and staying warm, which wasn't difficult. I was able to kick the disease, with only a few remnants by the time I got home.

Last Thursday, I was getting ready to perform at Danny Liberto's open mic at Dewey's, and my nephrologist called me....this was almost 9 o'clock at night. He confirmed what his assistant told me, and added that my case was not at all typical. In his words, a strep infection severe enough to cause blood to appear in my urine should not have been so quickly dismissed by my body at my age; a clearing-up of infections of this type are typical only in pediatric cases. He went on to say that in medicine, you certainly don't want to be interesting; you're in much better shape to be an average, run-of-the-mill type case. It's easier to be diagnosed and treated.
Still, if I was to be atypical, I'm glad I wound up on this side of the coin rather than contracting some sort of kidney-based Ebola virus that no one had ever seen before.

I joked a little with the doctor, pointing out that comedians usually live into their 80's, 90's and more and that measured on that scale, I am about adolescent in my development. Whether or not that had anything to do with me getting over this brief health scare is questionable, but at least I'm out of the woods, assuming that a CAT Scan wouldn't have revealed any latent illness that is just waiting to come and claim me somewhere down the line.

The lessons to be learned here seem to be 1) Drink water and cranberry juice, 2) Worry is the misuse of imagination, and 3) There is something terribly wrong when an insurance agent who is supposed to be facilitating health care is allowed to come between a doctor and his patient.

I went and delivered another round of blood samples today, as my nephrologist wants to keep monitoring me for any change (oh, and by the way, the last time around, my declining kidney values actually went up, which was nothing short of amazing to me) and I have another appointment next week with my primary health care physician. This week, it's off to Maine, where I have a couple of standup comedy performances scheduled at two of the University of Maine campuses.

Thanks to everyone who checked in on me along the way. I appreciate you all.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Somebody Get Me A Doctor (Van Halen)

2009-10-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead. Not yet, anyway.

According to my primary blog home at http://ralphtettascomedyroadtrip.blogspot.com/, I haven't written since August 3rd of this year. That's o.k. with me, I guess, because I've been busy, and not much has prompted me to want to share. Even now, I'm only writing out of guilt and that I feel I owe it to myself to put something down in print, just to get it out of my head.

I'm not a healthy person. And by that, I mean physically healthy. Where I'm at mentally and spiritually is a good place, I think. I've picked up some solid coping skills and I like who I am much more than the person I was ten years ago. I'm not a hot-head, I don't scare as easily, and I try to consider the other person's situation before I judge them too harshly. In my opinion, I'm doing pretty good for myself from a mental health standpoint.

Physically, I need some work.

I could list off the maladies, and all the usual suspects would be there, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, sleep apnea; but the worst one is diabetes. I'm a type-II candidate, which means "adult onset." My pancreas doesn't make enough insulin to keep my blood sugar at a manageable level. I take oral medication in lieu of insulin injections, and that's fine with me; they work like a charm.

Unfortunately, diabetes has led to a loss of kidney function. I'd been seeing a nephrologist and we saw my kidney values decreasing as time went on, but this last Friday I went in and we discovered that I have some blood in my urine. I'm no doctor, but even I knew that wasn't good. A week or so ago I was on the road, and noticed my urine had gotten very dark, like the color of A-1 steak sauce, and then lightened up. I was out of blood pressure medicine and was waiting to get back home to get my prescription filled, so that may have had something to do with it, but my nephrologist ordered a CAT scan for me for this week, just to make sure I didn't have a blockage or anything.

The only thing we're waiting for right now is for insurance to give the o.k. for the CAT scan. An insurance company has gotten between me and my doctor. Not the government; an insurance company.

I don't know how you feel about health care reform, but I've pretty much made up my mind.

I'll keep you posted as my condition is diagnosed and treated.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Eat It ("Weird Al" Yankovic)

2009-08-03T03:19:00.000-07:00

Life is what happens when you're making other plans.

When last I wrote, other than bitching about Blue Oyster Cult (NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed! NO caffeine before bed!), I was updating everyone on the goings-on in the life of me, Ralph Tetta, Mr. Big-Shot Comedian.

Our family picnic came off *almost* as planned, with mom driving up from Florida with her friend Robert. Only problem was that when she got here, she had a heart attack. It was a minor one, but a heart attack just the same, and she missed the picnic and spent the week at Rochester General Hospital. After five bypass surgeries, she's resting and recuperating at an assisted living facility, and she'll be heading back to Florida in a week or so. The bum deal is that she also missed the Donroe family reunion, as her father (my grandfather) was one of eight children, so we have dozens of cousins that we'd never met before.

My brother Christopher and his family made the trip in from Syracuse to attend the picnic, and then got to go see mom in the hospital, so she had no shortage of visitors. Pamela sent me an e-mail after the fact about the statistics regarding the picnic, which made me laugh a little bit because I have a live album from a British band called Saxon and in the liner notes, they go through their live tour that the album was recorded on and talk about how many guitar strings they went through, how many tea bags (because they're British, y'see) and it smacked of that. For the record, we had 39 guests, went through almost a whole case of burgers (40), a case of hot dogs (32), two pounds of Italian sausage (thanks Tim!), five 2-litre bottles of soda, 2 gallons of iced tea, various chips, dips, and dishes-to-pass including a veggie tray, bean salad, fruit salad, excellent chili, mac salad, potato and broccoli salad, two kinds of cake (none left over of either....go figure) and after it was all over, we donated 2 cases of leftover, unopened hot dogs and the associated hot dog rolls to the Open Door Mission....we bought too much, but Pam had coupons.

Sunday night was my third of three shows at D'Youville College in Buffalo, and Ray drove along with me. On the way, we stopped off at Chef Mike Kolady's house to drop off my sound system for a performance at his 45th birthday party (Happy Birthday Mike!) by Rochester comics Joe Fico and Pat Duffy. I would have liked to have performed, but was already committed to the college show. We dropped off the sound system, and while I was getting things ready, checking levels and all that, Ray was getting himself some of Chef's fine barbecue, and fine it was. Ray got a big "to-go" plate of ribs, chicken, various salads, and we snagged two Diet Pepsi's with lime for the trip. I didn't eat, because I know I would have been wearing barbecue sauce by the time I got to Buffalo. I had to wrestle with the mic stand because the clip lost it's screw, and we jury-rigged a replacement by putting a bent roofing nail through it. Not the prettiest repair job in the world, but it worked.

The gig was a good one, an orientation show for new students, and even though it was the smallest of the three groups, it was the most lively and the kids really got into it and enjoyed themselves, which is the essence of the live game show. If the kids don't want to play, there's nothing I can do to make the show a success other than throw money into the crowd.

After the show, I delivered some flowers and cannolis to some of Pamela's friends who had been in a car accident earlier in the month, and it was very late, between midnight and 1 AM, and after getting the "get well" presents at a Wegman's that was open all night, we rolled the van down Pamela's friends' street, looking for the right house number in the pitch black. Finally, I got fed up at my night-blindness and hung the plastic shopping bag on the door of the house I thought was the correct one, figuring that if it wasn't correct, they would enjoy the flowers and cannolis anyway (it turned out to be the right one).

Ray and I got back into town by 2 A.M., and had to make our way back to Mike's to pick up my sound system. The gear was out in Mike's shed, and his back yard was pitch black. Mike was still up, and shooting pool with some friends, and while I was fumbling my way around in the dark trying to find the gear, Mike was helping Ray light a tiki torch so that we'd have some light. I somehow found the mic stand by waving my arm around in front of me, and then moved up the stand to find the mic, and then followed the cord down to the amplifier. Once I got the cord wound properly, it was a piece of cake to find the bag that the mic and cords went in, and start my way back up Mike's steeply graded back yard. While all this was going on, Ray was getting the tiki torch and then moving towards me, forgetting that the yard had a very steep slope. He slid down the wet grass, landed in the ashes of what had been a fire pit earlier in the evening, and the tiki torch went out. All I saw from my vantage point was the light of the tiki bobbing as Ray walked, and then flashing quickly to the ground before being extinguished, followed by Ray's cursing and spitting. As I had gotten back too late to enjoy any of the barbecue, we then made our way to Jay's Diner for some late night food, and I ate my cheeseburger plate with a tired satisfaction. At least I didn't have jury duty the next day.

Yeah, that's right, I pulled jury duty as I seem to do every three years, and had put my service off until July. They originally were asking for my service in May, but my contractually-obligated college tour wouldn't allow it. My number was ridiculously high (945), and I checked the website dutifully each evening to see if I was required to attend, but the numbers never got higher than the 500's. I had scheduled a show on the Friday, figuring that I wouldn't be called, and by Thursday night, I had been released from my jury duty obligations. I guess the trick was getting the duty postponed, because they put me at the end of the new list, which is the same as not being called at all. I think I may have found a loophole in the system for use at a later date; not that I don't want to do my civic duty and serve on a jury, but I have a job that requires me to travel and more than that, be able to schedule months out in advance. If I'm on a jury that goes three weeks, there's no way I could predict something like that without an awful lot of notice.

So on Friday morning, Ray piled into the car with me and off we headed to the Wit's End club located in the Ramada Inn and Conference Center in Morgantown, West Virginia. We had an easy drive down, fueled by Sheetz Made-To-Order sandwiches, satellite radio, and conversation courtesy of over 20 years of friendship. I can't remember when I laughed so much. We got into Morgantown, checked into the room, and then headed back out so that I could get a haircut....I was due. After a nap, I shaved and showered and we headed down to the club and I introduced Ray to Larry Nelson, the host of the long-running comedy night. I couldn't coerce Ray into doing a guest spot, but Larry did, and Ray did great. My feature act, Washington D.C.'s Clay Miles, did a great job of revving the 40 or so people up for my act, and I went balls-out and did my thing. The weirdest point of the night was when a West Virginia state trooper appeared in the doorway of the lounge, suddenly silencing the crowd, which consisted of 36 white redneck bikers, and four black people. And don't forget the loud-mouthed guinea on the stage! Come to find out, he was looking for a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) who had battered his female companion after an evening of imbibing in the hotel bar, then trashed his first-floor hotel room and snuck out a side door.

The next morning, I grabbed breakfast down in the restaurant (best hot complimentary breakfast buffet in the business!) and trotted over to Wal-Mart to fetch watermelons and ice. We were planning on attending the Natarelli's (Steve and Eileen) Redneck Luau on Saturday night, and Pam committed me to bringing vodka-infused watermelon. I told her about the technique, but I never tried it before and she thought it sounded like great fun. It isn't great fun, by the way. It's a lot more fun to eat than it is to create. I had brought a big cooler with me in my trunk, and purchased a knife at the Dollar Store and vanilla-flavored vodka at a liquor store on Friday. I dumped 20 lbs of ice and two seedless watermelons into the big cooler, cut a hole in one of the melons, and turned the bottle of vodka upside-down and shoved it into the hole. Long story short, it works, but you have to keep turning the bottle so the vodka can work it's way into the melon. I kept the other melon clean, for the kids and anyone else who just wanted melon but no booze.

We drove back to Rochester, and coming through Buffalo in the home stretch, the skies grew dark and it started to hail and rain. It was real wrath-of-God stuff, and large men with big pickup trucks were pulling their vehicles over underneath bridges to escape the weather. Meanwhile, I'm slooshing along in the water and ice in my Toyota Camry, a Japanese roller-skate careening down the I-90. I got home, dropped Ray off at home, changed clothes, picked up Pam and Harmony, and off we headed to the Natarelli's. It was a fine day, and unfortunately we missed some of the earlier festivities, but the food was good, the watermelon went over pretty well, and we got to see a water-spout courtesy of the lakeside view of Steve's back porch. Another part of our indoor fun included watching the weather report on TV to decide if my house was still standing.

The next week was a whole bunch of nothing, and it was planned that way months ago, deciding to take some family time and enjoy my family and some nice outdoor activities. Well, up here in Rochester, it's been constant piss-rain all summer, so none of that was happening. Thursday night, I made my way out to Chet Wild's Open-Mic-A-Palooza, a showcase at the Comedy Club that wound up featuring 30 comedians. You heard me right....the show went three and half hours. I went on at the end, after spending some time around the corner with my mom, showing her pictures on the internet of the family reunion we both missed. I don't know how the remaining folks stuck around for the last comic (me) after over three hours of show, but they did.

Friday, I had a gig out at the Cedar House in Skaneateles, NY, with special guests Ray Salah and Travis Worth. After picking up some replacement parts for my sound system (that sometimes seems to get more work than I do), we headed out. I replaced the roofing-nail clip with a new one courtesy of the Guitar Outlet (four bucks, not bad) and purchased a new, longer cord for the mic. Come to find out, the cord was incompatible, but I had back-ups, so it didn't kill the show. What *did* kill the show was the first sunny day in Upstate New York this year, and we drew far fewer folks than we did the last time I was there. The show was fun, and I sold some CD's after the show. We would have stuck around, but there was literally no one in the place, not even bowling, so we headed back to Rochester, stopping off at a Buffalo Wild Wings for some food because I hadn't eaten all day. Just a word of caution....the mango habanero wings are HOT, and they mean it. Get the double bleu cheese if you know what's good for you, or skip the middle man entirely and just drink the liquid out of your car battery.

Saturday was a day of rest and recuperation, and then last night, I performed with Rochester's Dan Viola at a private party fundraiser for the Webster (high school) Warriors football team. I seemed to have remembered the words "clean show" being uttered when I was booked months ago, and I double-checked that with Joe at the club, and he said (quote) "Nah, you can do what you want. I came here on purpose to see Dark Ralph."

Now, Dark Ralph is my doppelganger, my other persona. Sometimes, I get tired of being Mr. Jolly Pants, and I let my inhibitions go and I wind up saying some pretty outrageous stuff. And I'm proud to say that I let Dark Ralph off the leash last night, but not so much that he bit anyone, just so that he could eat a little bit. I used some coarse language, and some overt topicality, but wasn't even as raw as I usually am. I was definitely not *clean*.

I did an hour after Danny's set, and the crowd seemed to have really enjoyed themselves, and I worked material in with some crowd work, and after the show, I got a really solid ovation, and made my way back to the sound booth. Mark, the house manager, shook my hand and said "You know, this was supposed to be a clean show, right?" and all the color drained out of my face. I guess they stopped counting f-bombs at around 85, which may have been exaggerated for comic effect, but is probably in the right neighborhood. I definitely left at least a dozen in a plastic bag on somebody's front door handle.

The folks shook my hand afterward, including the lady who was paying the club the money, and I apologized because I didn't know the parameters, and she said that it was fine and that the group really liked me. I wouldn't have had a problem working clean, I do it all the time, but I was working off of faulty intelligence. Still, the client had no problem, so I went home with my head held high, if not a little red in the cheeks.

This week, I start my August session of comedy classes at the Comedy Club, and I'm looking forward to a new batch of students along with some of the folks from the June session looking to brush up their skills. The game show tour starts up again on August 16th in Huntsville, Alabama, so I'll have plenty to do along with my teaching schedule.

The opposite of burn out is rust out. I've done 'em both, and given my choice, I'll take the burn.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Dr. Music (Blue Oyster Cult)

2009-07-17T00:14:00.000-07:00

You know how I figure out if someone I've just met, like at a cocktail party or something, is worth talking to or not? I ask them their favorite Blue Oyster Cult song. Based on the answer, I'll decide how to treat them. There are several levels, like the rings of hell in Dante's "Inferno."

If someone mentions "Harvester of Eyes," "Astronomy," "E.T.I." or something cool like that, we're going drinking. Unkle Roger, dearly departed disc jockey from WCMF, loved "E.T.I." and that made him a cool motherfucker in my book and I hope they find the person responsible for his death because a cool guy like Unk shouldn't go out like that.

The next ring would be songs like "Godzilla" or "Cities On Flame." These are deep cuts, but still get enough radio airplay that they're considered fairly common. A mention of these will still get you into the brotherhood, and I'll talk as long as you want.

The next layer is "Don't Fear The Reaper" or "Burnin' For You." These are the most common Blue Oyster Cult songs and they don't require any special fan appreciation to pooch out. As a matter of fact, if these are the only song titles the person can produce, I usually write them off at that point as a walking waste, either too young to know any better or too lame to matter. I won't be more inconsiderate to them than I would a stranger on a bus who wants to talk about the weather, but basically, we're in the same neighborhood.

Almost to the bottom of the rings, there's the response "I don't have a favorite song" or "Who is Blue Oyster Cult?" or worse yet, "I don't like them." The truth of this is that Blue Oyster Cult was always a group that required a little imagination to like; they weren't singing about love and relationships, and when they did, it was something dark like a suicide pact or a sado-masochistic sexual affair. To admit that you don't like them or didn't take enough time to get familiar with the material basically is an admission that you're a second class person, more concerned with style over substance, and you're part of the problem (and by that, I mean *all* the problems....teenage pregnancy, overcrowding in our cities, hunger in the third world, gang violence, the poisoning of our food supply by contamination, and the prospect that the Earth will be struck by a huge meteor). I'm sorry, even if you think you're innocent, you're not, and if you're not willing to take the blame, then it's my civic duty to hang that shit around your neck. For Christ's sake, just get one of the live albums and work your way through it. It's not that hard, and you'll be a better person for it.

The bottom ring is reserved for folks whose only exposure to BOC is that sketch that Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken did on Saturday Night Live where they talk about needing more cowbell. If you're a young punk and that's all you've got, I blame it on your parents. They obviously didn't love you very much, or realized that you were "special needs" and couldn't handle anything more. That's a shame, but not everyone gets the nurturing that they deserve.

Will Ferrell is a putz. If you think he's funny, you can't name a Blue Oyster Cult song. You need to draw yourself a bath, plug in a toaster and drop that motherfucker right in the water. You'll be doing us all a favor. Actually, if there's any way you can get Ferrell to take a bath with a toaster, that might earn you some points, but you'll still have to learn a song or two.

Now, you're reading my blog, so I automatically think you're a decent person, but you still have to do the work. If for some reason you never got savvy to Blue Oyster Cult, I'll help you along. You can probably look these songs up on YouTube or download them to your iPod or if you're really interested in being a top-notch human being, you can buy the old albums or CD's and listen to them at home. But here's a good list to start with.

From their debut, "Blue Oyster Cult" listen to "Transmaniacon MC," "Stairway To The Stars," "She's as Beautiful As a Foot," "Cities On Flame with Rock and Roll," or "Workshop of the Telescopes."

From "Tyranny and Mutation," try "O.D'd on Life Itself" or "Hot Rails To Hell."

"Secret Treaties" yields "Career of Evil," "Dominance and Submission," "ME 262," "Harvester of Eyes," and "Astronomy."

"Agents of Fortune" features "This Ain't The Summer of Love," "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," and "E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence)."

From the "Spectres" l.p., check out "Godzilla," "R.U. Ready 2 Rock" (doing the initials thing before Prince ever did!) and "Goin' Through The Motions" (featuring Ian Hunter!)

The "Mirrors" album is excellent, and you'll enjoy "I Am The Storm" and "In Thee."

The phenomenally titled "Cultosaurus Erectus" has the fine tracks "Black Blade," "The Marshall Plan" and "Lips In The Hills."

"Fire of Unknown Origin" is the album you may be the most familiar with, with the hit song "Burnin' For You," but also "Veteran of the Psychic Wars" from the Heavy Metal movie soundtrack album.

"The Revolution By Night" is amazing, and you can enjoy the songs "Take Me Away," "Shooting Shark" (featuring bass guitar work by American Idol's Randy Jackson), "Veins" and "Let Go."

"Club Ninja" has a pair of Bob Halligan songs (he's a famous songwriter for many cool bands such as Judas Priest, Helix and others) "Make Rock Not War" and "Beat 'Em Up" but you may also enjoy "Dancin' In The Ruins" and "White Flags." You might also enjoy "Perfect Water."

"Imaginos" needs to be listened to all the way through, but if you're gonna cherry-pick the songs, how about "I Am The One You Warned Me Of," "In The Presence of Another World," "Del Rio's Song," "Astronomy" (they re-did the song) and "Blue Oyster Cult." This was also the last album to feature Albert and Joe Bouchard.

"Heaven Forbid" was their reunion album, and features many great songs including "See You In Black," "Harvest Moon," "X-Ray Eyes," "Live For Me," and an acoustic rendering of "In Thee."

And their last studio album, released in 2001, "Curse of the Hidden Mirror" features the songs "Pocket" and "Here Comes That Feeling."

And like I said before, any of the live albums are good, and they usually put one out every three or four albums, to connotate a change in style or direction.

So go on, enjoy some good music and listen to the lyrics because there's a lot of good stuff going on in there. If you're more of a pop music person, and you like singles and you listen to music but don't really listen to the words, then you're doing your brain the same disservice you'd be doing your body if you ate ice cream all the time and never ate any vegetables.

And I'll never, ever tell you which category my wife falls into....there's a marriage at stake here. But I've tried to start righting some wrongs and I've played a few CD's in the car when I've taken Harmony to school, and she seems receptive. Good habits begin when we're young.....

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Cat Scratch Fever (Ted Nugent)

2009-07-14T03:29:00.000-07:00

Good morning, North America, and anyone else who cares to read. Rather than get a good night's sleep, I decided to toss and turn and keep flipping the pillow to the "cool" side, and finally, I've just said "fuck it" and thought I would blog....it's been a couple of weeks, and I've been piss-poor about keeping in touch.

Stuff on the comedy front's been few and far between, and by design, as I thought I would spend the Summer doing family stuff and spending time with Pammey and Harmony. We've mostly done that, but the weather around here has been decidedly un-summer-like. We've always kept cool by installing two window unit air conditioners on either side of the apartment, but this year, we've only run them once....for the most part, the outdoor temperature has run only into the low 70's, and at night, we're down into the low 50's. I'm not complaining because we're saving a ton of money on our electric bill, but little things are being affected. I usually take advantage of the warm weather to hang clothing on the clothesline out in the backyard, but we really haven't had any days that were hot (or dry) enough to pull that off. Also, you can't really mow your grass when it's wet, and it's been perpetually wet out there. My backyard looks like a jungle! I planted some pepper seeds earlier in the year and I was worried that I wouldn't be around to water them enough, but they've gotten plenty of water, now I'm worried about the sunlight!

If I had things to keep me busy, I guess I wouldn't be so down on the weather, but it's been a lot of "sit around and wait" around here. I did a "Dash For Dollars" gameshow date at D'Youville College in Buffalo last week, and I have another one Wednesday night and a third one this coming Sunday night as part of D'Youville's freshman orientation. The Incredible Cash Cube had a small stress fracture to be taken care of, and as luck would have it, there is a welding shop right around the corner from my house....walking distance, actually. They got the piece back into shape, and then my comedy buddy Ray Salah's father helped me replace some missing fasteners with his 50+ year collection of screws and bolts. The D'Youville folks were awesome and it's a great performance space...I'm looking forward to the next two shows, knowing that it's a good situation.

I did a standup date at a club called Dubland Underground on July 4th weekend. I was concerned that the club wouldn't draw very well, but they actually had a good group down in the basement club. I shared the stage with Rochester comedians Paris, Joe Cumbo, Katie Wood, Billy T. Anglin and Dan Maslyn. I didn't know how long of a show I was going to do, what with it being a very young crowd, but they hung out with me for 45 minutes or more and I had a good time with it. This past weekend, I was supposed to do a comedy train in Vermont with Steve "The Nuclear Guy," but reservations were thin and they pulled the plug on the show. I was sad to see the shows not come off, but after 20 years in this business, I understand that no Summer gig is completely secure.

So with no work for the weekend, I attended two weekend gatherings, on Saturday, a birthday party for our friends Maria and Billy Griffin's son Aidan who was turning 9, and on Sunday, a birthday party for our friend Mike Visconte who was turning 60. Saturday's party was enjoyable, and even though I was upset about the loss of work, I decided not to be a grouch about it, and I kept to myself until folks coaxed me out of my shell. The star attraction of the cookout, in my opinion, was Billy's food, where he put his restaurant experience to good use and rustled up some top-notch grub. His burgers were so thick, you could've chocked the wheels of a 747 with 'em. And they were incredibly juicy; they didn't need one condiment, just a fresh burger bun.

Mike's party was big on the grub, too, with a combination of standard cookout food, birthday cake, and Italian cuisine. The hots were huge, and there were plenty of them, and even though it got a little cool later in the evening, there was a lively discussion courtesy of the party guests, many of whom are teachers, involved in the City School District in some way, or like Pam and myself, have a child that is school-age. One of the guests was a truck driver for Wegman's, and after having seen him at the last few get-togethers at Mike and Fran's, I found out that he worked for my father for years over at Boise Cascade. He told me stories about my father that I'd never heard before, stories that made me laugh and made me incredibly proud of my dad (not that I wasn't already proud of him). I knew he was well-liked at his job, and this gentleman told me that he actually turned down a promotion so that he could keep working for my father. It was great to hear those stories, and sad, too, because I love to hear good things about my father, but I hate being reminded that he's no longer with us.

We're still getting over our recent loss in the family, and yesterday, I had to take one of Dina's cats into the vet for shots and a pedicure so that he and his sister could be handed over to one of Dina's co-workers who volunteered to take the animals on. Chester, the cat in question, is not a friendly guy, and he's scratched and bitten everyone who's come into contact with him. So who's the natural choice of person to take him to the vet? Me. The guy who's on blood thinners and doesn't clot very well.

In the past, when I've gone to the apartment to feed Chester and his sister Fauna, Chester's been friendly to me, and I figured I'd have a decent chance of getting out of the operation unscathed, but I was going to have to be clever. I grabbed an old towel, and started petting Chester, slowly wrapping him up in it and picking him up and moving him towards the ol' cat carrier. The carrier was fairly big, but even *I* don't like seeing it because we've taken at least four cats to be put down in it, and if I were a cat with a hunter's sense of smell, I think I would detect the stench of death. I made sure to get Chester's front paws wrapped up, but the problem appendages were those back feet, powerful pouncing haunches that somehow stopped me from completing the delivery of cat into carrier.

I tried another time, and then finally I realized that I was being too gentle, and for no good reason, and shoved him into the carrier. I got the door fastened, and with nary a scratch. I got Chester into the car, and played some soothing music for him and opened the back window so he could enjoy the fresh air. I actually didn't know which station he would like to hear the most, so I picked 100.5 The Drive because they had New Music Monday; no reason for both of us to be pissed off.

I got Chester over to the veterinarian, and the vet went to work like a ninja; he clipped Chester's nails in less than a minute, and administered a couple of booster shots, and it was all over. I explained that it wasn't my cat, and that I didn't want to get scratched because of my being on blood thinners, and a young lady was called in to do the holding. She grabbed Chester by the scruff of the neck, which to us looks pretty aggressive, but is really no more uncomfortable to a cat than a firm handshake. After everything was done, the young lady opened the door to the cat carrier, led Chester in by his front paws, and he complied like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is bullshit!" I protested. "Please, can't you make it look like it was at least a *little* bit of a struggle?" The vets laughed. They explained that it's all in the intimidation factor, and when it's your cat, you've got no shot at intimidating them because they know you. I've got to get tougher with the family pets if I expect any cooperation, and we've only got one cat now, Little Monet (I'm not sure that the "Little" part is actually her name, but that's what we call her all the time, so it's stuck), and she's pretty skittish to begin with. Although in the morning she gets pretty friendly and she even lets Harmony pick her up and carry her around, so maybe she's not that skittish after all.

This week, we're hosting our own shindig at the Millennium Lodge, and on a Saturday rather than our regular Sunday date. We've tried to get all of our invites out by e-mail, but as always, some folks fall through the cracks, so if you didn't get an invite, it's not because we don't want you to come, we just don't have a comprehensive, all-inclusive list! If you're interested in coming, here's the info, courtesy of Pamela:

Please join us for an afternoon of fun at the Greece Canal Park's Millennium Lodge,
on Saturday, July 18th, 2009!
http://www.monroecounty.gov/parks-greececanal.php

Food hits the grill at noon. We supply the hots and hamburgers, soda and waters. We'd love it if you'd like to bring a dish, chips, or dessert to share, if you can.

There's a playground there, as well as three tennis courts, and a soccer/baseball field! Come prepared to have fun! Bring any games/balls/equipment that you'd like as well!

We'll be there all day, from Noon until 9PM!
Drop-in any time - stay for as long as you'd like!

Please RSVP (Pam's email: CoolGrrl28@aol.com or Ralph's email: YuksOnMe@aol.com or our home phone: 585-254-6256) by July 15th so we buy enough supplies!

We look forward to having some fun in the sun with YOU!

Next week: Ralph has jury duty, a gig in West Virginia (can't do 'em both at the same time, let's see how this shakes out), Mom comes visiting from Florida, and MUCH MUCH MORE! Stay tuned everybody! Also, in August, I'll be teaching another round of comedy classes (because the last ones were so popular) and you can find the info at http://www.thecomedyclub.us/Comedy_Classes.html. If you want to be funny, or know someone who you think would be interested, pass it along. I made the classes cheap for the summer, and we've got some returning folks from our June session, so it should be a lot of fun.

Thanks for reading!

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Teacher (Jethro Tull)

2009-06-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

Tonight I want to extend a special congratulations to the graduates of my most recent comedy class. Earlier this evening, Anthony DiMuro, Eileen Loveman, Tim "Tizo" Maduro, Elliott Marino, Tim Shea and Steven "Sure Shot" Sorensen took the stage at The Comedy Club in Webster, NY (www.thecomedyclub.us) and put into practice the concepts and craft that they studied the last month. I'm proud to report that they all performed fabulously, to the delight of their families, friends and co-workers.

As their teacher this last month, I'm proud to say that they all took the material seriously and some of the students even took advantage of a few extra "voluntary" classes that I offered to make sure that their material was refined and polished. It paid off; they took the stage with confidence and precision, and I couldn't be prouder of them if they were my own children.

Several area comedians stepped forward and participated in the program, taking the stage in the early part of the show so that none of the graduates had to be "first" and be thrown to the lions. Local comedians Nigel Larson (who also sat in on our classes and offered feedback to the material that was being presented), Rachael Druszkowski (Western New York's Mom of Comedy), Josh Smith (The Rated-R Rockstar) and Andy Boccacino (a graduate of one of my first comedy classes almost ten years ago) took the stage and entertained our audience, setting the table for the graduates to do their thing.

Some people criticize standup comedy classes; they say "you can't teach funny." I might agree with that, but my retort would be that I don't need to teach funny. Everyone is funny. Everyone has the ability to tell a story, relate a personal experience, kid around, come up with a funny retort. The sense of humor is universal. As a comedy teacher, my goal is to show my students how to translate that sense of humor to a group of strangers. It's easy to make your friends and family laugh, they already know who you are. The trick is taking it to the stage and making strangers like you and laugh along with you.

In addition to that, you can teach public speaking and you can teach comedy writing, and if you combine them, you have what can reasonably be argued is the starting point of standup comedy.

Attending the performance tonight were Danny Liberto of the Comedy Company (www.noclowns.com) who I had the privilege of working with Saturday night at a room he books in Du Bois, Pennsylvania, and who also has taught comedy classes with me in the past, and Steve "The Nuclear Guy," who is a former student of mine who now tours around the country doing his standup act and booking his own shows. My thanks go out to them for coming out to support our class. Special thanks also go out to Mark Ippolito(the manager of the club, and believe it or not, a comedy class graduate), who tolerated our class messing up his showroom on his off nights, and Joe T. who gave the go-ahead to me to offer the classes after a long hiatus. Also, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my webguy Bruce who came out, took some group photos after the show, and also is a comedy class graduate (two times!) from back in the day. There was so much love in the room, even my mother-in-law came to the show (no lie!) and her comments, related to me by my wife, was that she really enjoyed the show and she could see these students becoming professionals someday.

I sure hope so.

This week, it's some well-deserved time off before my college game show tour picks up again with the first of three shows at D'Youville College in Buffalo next Sunday. Happy 4th of July everyone! Remember, the Declaration of Independence states that we have certain unalienable rights, and that chief among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And making people laugh, if done well, can combine all three.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Psalm 9 (Trouble)

2009-06-25T20:39:00.000-07:00

Wow. Where have you been the last month, Ralph? None of yer damn business, Shecky.

Actually, things have been pretty rough around our house lately. My wife's Aunt Dina, who had been battling cancer, succumbed on Wednesday night, June 17th.

Dina was good to me, my wife Pamela, and our daughter Harmony. She was a member of our family, a remarkable group that took care of us, sheltered us and loved us. I married a great young lady, but I got a bonus with her family.

Years ago, when I proposed to Pamela, my parents were getting ready to retire to Florida and I was living in the basement apartment of the multi-family house they owned. In order to sell the house, I needed to get out and was about to go look for a place when Pamela suggested that we live together at her apartment. I wasn't against living together, especially when we were properly engaged, but we had to ask permission of Dina, as she owned the house. She said yes, and very cautiously explained to me that her niece was a special girl, and that if I hurt her in any way, she would come looking for me. It's been almost 15 years, and I guess I'm doing all right, nobody's taken a swing at me yet.

Dina worked in Social Services, was active with the union, and often would walk a picket line with other unions in solidarity. She was liberal in a lot of things, but insisted that things would be better if people got up off their ass. She was very Catholic, sang in the folk group at Holy Apostles, and deserved a much longer retirement than the one she got. She retired at 60 after the rigors of her disease started causing complications, and spent the last year of her life managing pain when she should have been enjoying herself.

She particularly liked a song that Pamela and I wrote about Harmony called "The Baby With The Nice Round Head" that we would sing all the time. She thought we should get it published, even though it was just a fun little ditty that we would sing to Harmony when she was really little and we wanted to change her diapers.

Dina wanted the best for us and loved us and we tried to help, but at the end of the day, it was cancer, the heavyweight champion of the world. I've done three cancer benefits alone this year, and I could have done three hundred and I don't think it would make a difference. It's a horrible disease, hard to diagnose, murder to treat, and we're no closer to understanding what it is, why it occurs, and why it's so different from patient to patient than we are to understanding God.

When Dina decided to stop treatment and go gracefully, I couldn't fault her. The treatments left her weak and drained, and she'd had enough. Making that decision required courage, a courage I'm sure I wouldn't have. She had plenty of visitors those last couple of weeks, cards, letters, flowers, folks from church, former co-workers, and of course Pamela and I brought Harmony to see her, hoping that her nice round head would bring a smile to Dina's face. I'm happy to report that it did. Harmony still doesn't really understand what heaven is, or what happens to people after they go there. She knows that "Auntie Dee" is up there with Grandpa Tetta, Great Grandma, and Snax The Cat. My mother-in-law Anne described it to Harmony as a big party that never ends, and she seemed o.k. with that. I guess I'm o.k. with it, too, but I picture it more as a state of bliss, basking in the love of the Creator, unaware of what's going on down on Earth. Lord knows, there's plenty going on down here to make anyone frantic, upset, scared or angry, and I don't think heaven would allow those things of their denizens.

On Wednesday night, when it happened, I was driving east towards Syracuse to do a TV program on Thursday morning, and the sky was pissing rain like I'd never seen. It was just ridiculous amounts of water coming down, and no more than 15 minutes after I'd hit the road, my wife called me with choking sobs and I knew that Dina had gone. With the time frame we were looking at and the experience of my father as a cancer patient only a couple of years ago, I knew after hearing that Dina was sleeping and mostly unresponsive that it would be quick, but I had no idea that it would be so soon. I'm happy to report that on the day of her interment, the skies were cloudless, the sun was out, and the service was joyous and well-attended. They even let me get up and read a passage, which I thought was nice. My original choices were considered too heavy-handed, I think, but they found a passage that got the message across and was considered more appropriate. Dina had an ex-boyfriend for years and he turned out to be a real scumbag, and as a present to her, I wanted to read something that basically gave him the guns, but in retrospect, I guess it was better that I just concentrated on a passage that indicated that Dina was a good person and her place in heaven was assured. Afterwards, members of the family including my wife's Uncle Joe from Boston and his wife Gretchen congregated at the Peppermill Restaurant and we had lunch. This was an old haunt of mine, and I could never get Pam to go there, but it was close by the cemetery and a good place to decompress.

Other than that, it's been a pretty busy June with two weeks in the Cleveland area and a week in Syracuse, and then the invitation to go on the Bridge Street show on WSYR-TV channel 9. I talked about teaching comedy, and I've been teaching a class in Rochester for the last month. Our graduation show is this coming Sunday at the Comedy Club in Webster, and everyone's excited and working really hard to brush up their material for the occasion.

There's a lot of work to be done around the house, and today I got the air conditioners in to help combat the 85 degree weather. I planted peppers in the back yard and I'm excited to see if anything comes of it, I'm not exactly known for my green thumb. Yesterday, we took Harmony to see a live exotic animal program at the library up the street, it was fun and a nice change of pace from all the stuff we've had to deal with the last couple of weeks. This weekend, I have a one-nighter down in Pennsylvania with old buddies Danny Liberto and Joe Bruno, and it should be a lot of fun. I've got a low-key yet busy July planned, including a week of jury duty, so we'll see how that goes.

O.k., that's enough. Thanks again for everyone who knew what was going on and their show of sympathy to our family in this time, it's really appreciated. Special thanks to my good friends Steve and Eileen for coming to the memorial service, I know it was a long drive and you're good friends and good people and my wife and I appreciate you. We'll see you at our picnic, and then out at your place for the redneck luau.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

The Writer (UFO)

2009-05-28T20:46:00.000-07:00

Thursday, May 29, 2009
11:45 P.M.

Just going down memory lane on a rainy, muggy night in Rochester. Ray Salah accompanied me to my last "Dash For Dollars" show of the season down in New Jersey on Wednesday, and for two days, we laughed and talked about the past.

Ray and I have been friends since I met him at Yuk Yuk's Comedy Club in Rochester back in May of 1988. We've been friends for 21 years, played countless shows together, and this summer, we're going to be doing something new, an improv show targeted towards families with children looking for entertainment options for their kids.

After two days in the car talking about all the stuff we've been through, I found a folder full of pictures, including a picture of our friend, Tiny Glover, who passed away last year. I also found folders full of jokes I'd written, hoping at one point to start my own "morning radio joke service" to funnel material at that market. I also found a folder full of poems that I wrote during a time when I was black-balled from the only comedy club in town, Hiccup's, and the only stage time that Ray and I could get was the Pure Kona open mic poetry night at Java Joe's. The black-balling basically occurred because there were two clubs in town, and Hiccup's didn't want me working at the other club, but the other club treated me better so I went with them, and then they went out of business, turning me into a man without a country.

Looking through the joke folder first....wondering what dusty gems lay in waiting....

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David Letterman returned to the Late Show on February 21st after undergoing quintuple bypass surgery. All that work, and they didn't do anything about his teeth.

The TV show ratings leader this week was ABC's "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" UPN is introducing a knock-off of the popular show called "Who Wants To Get Their Heat Turned Back On?"

Magician Doug Henning passed away on February 7th. Six pallbearers carried his casket to the grave site, and then sawed it in half.

Every year on George Washington's birthday, they have a mattress sale. Shouldn't they have it on Bill Clinton's birthday?

Monica Lewinsky's book tour is causing anger all over America. Democrats are mad because she disgraced the President. Her parents are mad because she embarrassed the family. Even her dentist is mad at her because he can't get her to spit.

A women's basketball league is being introduced for fans who can't get enough of the NBA. The WNBA promises the players are just as good as in the NBA, but they wear one more pad.

Wal*Mart is expanding it's presence in Europe, where it is taking over 21 supermarkets in Germany. No word yet on whether or not they're planning a Berlin Wal*Mart.

A ring of Canadian counterfeiters was caught trying to pass phony U.S. bills here in the states. They were caught when it was noticed that the $1 bill featured George Jefferson.

Thousands of Chinese-made condoms were returned to China as defective because an hour after you use them, you're still horny.

Business leaders in Hawaii are trying to stimulate business in the 50th state with a program called "Thumbs Up, Hawaii." New York state has a similar program, except it's not a thumb.

The National Support Group for Bulimia is having their annual fund-raising spaghetti dinner this Saturday. Dinner will be served at 7:00, 7:30, 8:00, 8:30, 9:00, 9:15, 9:20.....

The World Series contest this year will feature the Cleveland Indians and the Atlanta Braves. Tickets are only available through scalpers.

The mayor of Charleston, West Virginia was reprimanded for using city workers to repave his home driveway. He was caught when the crew painted a double yellow stripe down the middle of it.

Hugh Grant is selling the car he picked up prostitute Divine Brown in. He's going to take the money and buy an Escort.

It's a true fact: the first fortune cookie ever was manufactured in the United States. And the first fortune was "Inspected by #5."

A study by the American Medical Association shows that men who masturbate regularly are less likely to develop prostate cancer. But they suffer from a malady called "penis elbow."

The town of Preston, Mississippi has discontinued their recycling program because they're tired of reading the same newspapers over and over again.

A study at Johns Hopkins University shows that the poorest-selling flavored condom is peanut butter. Consumers didn't like it because it sticks to the roof of their mouth.

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Wow. Say what you want, at least I never stopped working.

The poetry was, in a lot of circumstances, standup comedy disguised as poetry. Here's a taste.

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Tradition 5/20/94

"Eat it,"
my buddy said-
the worm at the bottom of the bottle;
"it'll be cool."

So I ate it.
It was bitter
and nasty
and I felt sick instead of cool.

I don't hang around with Larry anymore
and tomorrow I'm writing a letter of complaint
to the Heinz Tomato Ketchup company.

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Well, that's enough for tonight. Maybe I'll share some more next time. I'm off until Thursday when I'll be at the Cleveland Improv, which I'm looking forward to.

Take care, and thanks for reading.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Delicious (Rod Stewart)

2009-05-16T23:30:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 17, 20092:30 A.M. EDT

The house is quiet.

Good evening, dear reader, or God Save Us, good morning, if you should rise so early. It's 2:30 in the morning and mommy and baby have both gone to bed, leaving daddy to his own devices, tip-tapping at the computer keyboard, searching the internet for all manner of information, gossip and drivel. It then occurred to me that I hadn't checked in with you in quite some time, and lo, it's almost been a month! Where has the time gone off to....

When last I reported, I was in a hotel room in Storm Lake, Iowa, preparing to perform for an all-night after-prom party for a small high school in Newell, Iowa. I was a little worried about the show, not that I wouldn't be funny, but that I could find the right balance of dirt. Youthful audiences crave blue material, and the adults who look after them fear it. One complaint, carefully worded, and an individual is out looking for a new job. Nobody needs that. I'm glad to say that the feedback that evening was excellent, and a follow-up by my college agent confirmed the same. I had a great time with the kids, and think I might pursue the position of professional commencement speaker. I think I'd be great in that role. If only I could inspire as many protesters as President Obama, then I'd really be on to something. Let's face it; if everyone agrees with you 100% of the time, you're either a pandering abjurer or a simpleton with nothing to contribute to the dialogue.

The drive the next day was a rainy one, and I was glad I was able to get my brakes done. The only thing worse than driving on wet pavement is driving on same without adequate brakes. The sun started shining through just a little before the Illinois border, and the rest of the trip was without incident. I arrived at the McCamley Park hotel in Battle Creek, Michigan, got myself cleaned up, ironed some clothing and headed over to Gary Field's Comedy Theater to participate in the annual Relay For Life benefit show for cancer relief. We had a great turnout, with every seat sold and dynamite performances from Gary Fields, John Face, Kathie Dice, Chris Young and Mike Evitts. I have done this event three times, and they keep asking me back, and I try to mix up my material because I don't want to get repetitious...one line got a woman to walk. Actually, she didn't care for the joke and was verbal in her criticism, and I whacked her the way I would any heckler. Hey, if you don't like the joke, sit down and shut up, everyone else laughed! Sometimes, majority rules whether you like it or not.

On Monday, I dragged my feet getting up to my college agency's office in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and after a few minutes making nice with the agents, I headed north to Petoskey, Michigan getting ready for a show at North Central Michigan University. I stopped along the way to go to a KFC restaurant because they were running their "free piece of the new grilled chicken" promotion (this was before the Oprah coupon debacle, if you've been following that) and my review is that the grilled chicken is pretty tasty, but it is grilled, not fried, so make sure you have a beverage on hand because it can get a little dry. I am of the opinion, however, that dry chicken is good because that means it's cooked all the way through, and I've had undercooked chicken and the nausea and vomiting that follow. I'll take it dry, thanks, and pass the Diet Coke.

The next morning, I headed over to the college and the battery light on my dashboard started to flicker to life, just as the needle on the battery charge indicator started dipping down to the "negative" sign. Just as I pulled into the college parking lot, the vehicle died. Long story short, alternator. I did a quick "teaser" event to promote the Dash For Dollars show, and then started working the phone to get the Automobile Club to send a tow-truck. Good news, there was a repair shop just a couple of blocks over, and the show wasn't for six hours. I unloaded all of the game show gear, and just as I was finishing, the AAA driver showed up. He hauled the van down to the repair shop, and there was only one other car in front of me, so it got fixed up in about 90 minutes, maybe less. I headed out to lunch, and then made my way back to campus. I set up the game show set, and then started trolling around the campus handing out dollar bills and promoting the evening show. The gambit worked, and the place was just packed! Nothing guarantees a good show like a big, full audience. Any kind of show, for that matter, is better with a crowd. The funniest comedian in the world can't rock two people, not without tickling them, anyhow. Give me a couple hundred and I'll show you a good time, I tell you what.

I had a couple of days off back at Grand Rapids where I stayed with Bill Smith, my college agent. I bummed around and did laundry and some administrative tasks I'd been putting off, like some basic bookkeeping and computer file maintenance. E-mails build up if you're constantly putting them in the "respond to later" file, but never responding to them. On Thursday afternoon, I brought in lunch for the office as a small token of thanks to the men and women who keep me employed. Every day, make a friend, I say. I found a great sandwich shop right near the office called "Broadway Subs" and the banner outside the shop said something about New Jersey so I decided right there that the food would be good, because New Jersey is an Italian outpost, and Italians know from the cold cuts. Germans know bologna and liverwurst, and maybe Muenster cheese, and after that, feh. I'll stick with the guineas on this one, thanks. I ordered up a sandwich tray and got some sodas and trotted it into the office in the pouring rain. Still, an army marches on their stomach. And if you're ever in Grand Rapids, get yourself one of those Broadway subs, they are De*Lish! I went back the next day and got a monster pastrami and provolone, and it was possibly the best ever. Then I went and saw "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" and it was awesome. Thursday night, I was invited to dinner by one of the agents and a couple of his buddies, and we hit BD's Mongolian Barbecue, a small chain restaurant that has locations all over Michigan. The four of us had a great time chatting over comics, movies, TV shows, and all the stuff that nerds like us go for. The company was good, the food was great, and before we knew it, we'd been sitting there for four hours. I don't socialize much, so it was nice to get out and do the "hang around" thing. By the way, BD's is De*Lish.

Friday night, I headlined a show at Shots Bar, Grill and Pizzeria, and it was fun, until some old sourdough truck driver named Charlie started making the rounds to every table and shaking hands like he was running for office. I tried to get him to sit down, but he seemed oblivious to the idea that we were doing a comedy show, and the next thing I knew, I was "stuck in the tar baby," trying to shut up a guy who was intoxicated AND southern. Pinch me, mama, I'm dreamin'! I drove home Saturday after a nice omelet breakfast at Bill's house. I'll say this for Bill Smith, he whips up a great plate of eggs considering I never see him eat anything. Earlier in the week, I brough over a package of bagels and he had whipped up a spread with real horseradish and garlic, and Neufchatel cheese. De*Lish, I say.

In case you're wondering, I'm trying to get "De*Lish" trademarked, so don't start using it, see?*

I was home for the first time in three weeks, and I hit the stage again, this time at The Comedy Club in Webster, performing for the benefit of the family of Tiny Glover, one of my good comedy friends who had died last year. I performed with Danny Liberto, Jamie Lissow, Pat Duffy, Dan Viola, and a few other guys I'd never met before, and I took the lead-off position. Tiny was a good guy, and I've talked about him in this space before so I'm not going to run over the same old ground again, but it felt good to perform in that event.

After a few days off, I was in the car again, with Ray Salah in tow, headed for Johnstown, Pennsylvania. I headlined a show at the Pony Club Lounge with special guest Spark Man. We had a thinner-than-usual attendance due to the Pittsburgh Penguins being in the NHL playoff against whomever they were playing, and folks stayed away in droves. We had a good show regardless, but there's something about a mostly empty room that's hard to get over. The next day, it was up to Strykersville, NY and a comedy benefit show for the troops at the Six Star American Legion Post. Weather and construction delays had caused me to show up at the club just a few minutes after our scheduled showtime, but I was going last on the bill so it didn't much hurt us. The room was sold out and the show was great (food was good, too) and again, I was happy to be included. Kudos to my co-stars, Josh Smith and Steve "The Nuclear Guy" Natarelli, who helped round out the evening. We would up raising $1,000 for the post, which wasn't bad considering Strykersville isn't that big a town to begin with.

I did my second-last game show date of the season on Friday in Madison, Indiana at Ivy Tech Community College. I was performing for the graduating class, and it was a phenomenal show. I caught a lucky break as the school had a freight-sized elevator that was big enough to get the Incredible Cash Cube up to the second level where the performance was, but we still had to call maintenance to get them to remove a door to get it into the room. The girl who was the grand-prize winner was pregnant, and I felt kinda good about that, because I know how much diapers and other "new baby" expenses are. I drove back all day Friday and after a lazy day here at the house (it rained and was pretty crappy so I stayed inside), I went out to the Comedy Club where two of my friends, Jason Russell and Ray Salah, were performing this weekend. They talked me into doing guest spots both shows (seriously, try to keep me off stage) and the crowds were a little stiff, but it was fun to go up and try some new material. After a while, I had to quit screwing around and do some of the "A" material, but that felt too much like work.

I've got ten days off before my last game show date of the season, and in the middle of that, I'm doing a cancer benefit here in Rochester (that will be my sixth benefit show this year) and then my club schedule revs up for June. In July, Ray and I are planning to do some family-friendly improv shows at the Comedy Club as we've had great success with the show for years doing First Night Celebrations in Binghamton and Buffalo, and want to branch out. In addition, I'm going to start teaching comedy classes again, and maybe that will be the impetus to finish my book about the subject. No matter what, I'm going to stay busy and try to enjoy some family time while I'm doing it.

It's cold and rainy, which doesn't feel like May, but it's gonna be hot soon enough. Enjoy what you have, when you have it.

*De*Lish is a trademark of Inner Loop Comedy Productions, copyright pending

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Iowa Stubborn (Meredith Wilson)

2009-04-25T17:04:00.000-07:00

Good evening from Storm Lake, Iowa, where menacing grey clouds hover over the area, threatening to discharge a cold rain on the aptly-named community.

I'm at the Super 8 Motel, relaxing before a late-night show for the After-Prom revelers of Newell-Fonda Community School in Newell, Iowa. My report time is midnight, which officially makes this the latest "late show" I've ever done in my 20-plus year comedy career.

The tour started 12 days ago, with a drive out of Rochester, NY on Tuesday the 14th. I made my way down the Interstate 90 for what felt like the thousandth time, and got deep into Indiana before deciding to hunker down for the evening. I stopped along the way to refuel at an Indiana tollway rest stop, and as I pumped the gas into the van, standing out in the chilly night air, I soaked in the scenery. There wasn't much going on by the way of other travelers, although at a pump opposite me, a young lady was crying and hugging an older lady, and she was driving a panel truck with the Budget Rent-A-Car logo on the side. I couldn't tell exactly what the problem was, except that the truck was pointing the opposite way of the traffic flow. The two women talked, the older one assuring the younger one that everything would be o.k., and I struggled to figure out what was going on. The older woman then left the younger one, and started emptying the garbage cans at the pumps, which confused me because I thought they were traveling together. It was confusing, to say the least, and I paid for my gas, quit eavesdropping and went on my way. I found my way to the Motel 6 in South Bend, Indiana, and got a decent night's sleep.

The next day, I drove to Carlinville, Illinois, home of Blackburn College for a Dash For Dollars game show engagement. The show was a lot of fun, with a lot of excited students eager to compete for the money. It's always a thrill to me to do the show because I remember being broke most of the time when I was in college and I know how cool it was to come into a windfall every now and again. I was in the college's main auditorium, and I had my own dedicated sound technician, who provided me with a lapel mic, ran my sound, and helped me with props. I enjoyed working with the lapel mic, as it kept my hands free to work with the props that we use in the show without having to sacrifice the ability to amplify my voice. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, my bluetooth fell out of my gig bag, never to be seen again. I still had the charger, but I needed my bluetooth replaced. It would have to wait.

Thursday was a drive to Fort Smith, Arkansas and an engagement at the Electric Cowboy, a Comedy Zone one-nighter. I worked with a funny young comic named Gains Kelly, and we had a really good turnout. I was closing, and I took advantage of the time to stretch out and work with the crowd as I like to do from time to time, and it went really well. Thanks to Heff and Joel at Comedy Zone for the opportunity, and don't worry, the check's in the mail.

Friday was a day off so I lingered in Fort Smith and got my oil changed (gotta take care of the vehicle) and then drove west to Oklahoma City where my good friends Jason Russell and Steve Burr were working at the Looney Bin comedy club. I checked myself into a Motel 6 and joined up with them at the club and we did the "pal-around" thing. Jason was driving a new car, one that he was very protective of, and Steve wanted to prank him. While Jason was on stage at the late show, Steve and I went out into the parking lot and using some duct tape that I was carrying around in the van, we rigged together some empty Red Bull cans and attached them to the underside of Jason's car so that when he drove away, he would think something was dragging.

The stunt went off without a hitch; the trick was to position the cans so that Jason wouldn't see them as he approached the car, and he had parked far away from the door of the club so that no one would park near his car. The problem is that the farther away you get from a car, the more you can see what's underneath it. We set the cans up so that the rear right tire blocked the view of them, and I thought the jig was up when Jason walked around to his trunk to put his suitcase full of t-shirts away. Luckily, he was distracted enough so that he didn't see them, and when he started driving away, it was absolutely priceless. He started driving forward (he had backed into the space) and then once the cans started dragging, he paused, then started up again, heard the noise again, and got out of the car immediately. Once he saw the cans, I flashed him the roll of duct tape and he realized he'd been had.

The evening wasn't without some other excitement. Without wanting to toot my own horn, I'll instead insert a passage from Steve Burr's accounting of the incident, culled from his blog at www.steveburrcomedy.com;

It's been a pretty good week so far and I'm really enjoying the company of the two comics I'm working with, Jason Russell and Susan Freeman. Our threesome has been joined the last couple of days by one of my old Rochester buddies, Ralph Tetta. He's in the area with a few days off so he made the drive to the OKC to hang out, and it's lucky for Jason that he did. Ralphie stopped a potential merchandise theft at last night's show dead in it's tracks.

Jason and I were set up outside the showroom between shows to peddle some merchandise, when during the commotion of shaking hands and moving product, some sticky fingered girl thought she'd help herself to one of Mr. Russell's T-shirts, something neither me or the J-man noticed. Ralph however locked in on her instantly and as she made her way past him he reached out and snagged the T-shirt out of her hands, to which she quickly replied, "do you work here?", like that would have made a difference in whether what she did was right or wrong. Ralph told her he did and she beat feet out the door. I was standing right next to him and saw the whole thing happen, but didn't know she had stolen something so I wasn't completely aware what I was seeing. I will tell you this though, Ralph was as cool as a cucumber in busting this chick and didn't even look at her or the shirt when he grabbed it back. He just reached out and plucked it from her hands like some kind of Secret Service agent or something. It was impressive for sure.

I always wanted to be a superhero, and while I don't feel my actions were any bit heroic, I'll take the accolades where I can get them.

Saturday was a laundry day, and Steve and I got together for lunch, and then we went to Target where I purchased a new bluetooth. The unit was different than the one I lost, and I don't like it as much, but the charger was the same as the other one I had, which left me with an extra. You never know when you're going to need a spare charger. I went back to the room to relax, and then Saturday night, I hung out with my comedy compatriots and they were able to talk management into letting me warm up the mic a little on the late show. I went in and did my thing, and it felt good; I have to admit that there's nothing in my life that's much more uncomfortable than being in a room where there's comedy going on, and not getting my turn on stage.

On Sunday, Jason, Steve and I went to lunch with J.P., a guy that works at the Looney Bin, and we had some authentic Mexican food, and then made our way over to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Out of nothing more than coincidence did it happen that my visit correlated with the anniversary of Timothy McVeigh's heinous act of domestic terrorism. There were long lines to get into the museum, so we made our way around the grounds and read the plaques that adorned the outdoor displays. I have to admit that I got awfully choked up whenever any mention of the children at the daycare center were mentioned; in addition, there was a long, chain-link fence along the front of the memorial, and visitors from all across the country left mementos fastened to it; license plates from various states were popular, as were teddy bears and photos, and it reminded me way too much of the spontaneous memorials that pop up in my urban neighborhood back home when someone dies in an act of violence. It was sobering, to say the least.

On Monday, I lazily checked out of the hotel and made my way into New Mexico, stopping just short of the Colorado border. I checked into another Motel 6, and surveyed the town of Raton to see what it offered a weary traveler who was also hungry, and just picked up another hour due to the time change driving west. I ate at a restaurant called K-Bob's Steakhouse (www.kbobs.com) and enjoyed their unlimited Salad Wagon which featured their famous Kettle O' Beans (or whatever they called it). It was one of my very few nods this week towards trying to eat healthy. I've been so busy, the sit-down restaurant hasn't exactly been an option and my body is paying the price for it. I've gotten doughy around the middle, and I need to make a turn-around but quickly.

Tuesday, I headed north into Trinidad, Colorado, and while it was only a 25-mile or so drive, it was one of the most impressive. At one point, I was travelling up a mountain road and came around a ridge, and then saw snow-capped mountains in the distance. It was the first time I'd ever seen them in real life, and it was inspiring enough to give me pause. Then I realized that it was like the scenery in the background of every South Park episode, and the recognition made me chuckle a little inside. The day was spent killing time as my early arrival left me with extra time on my hands, so I walked around in a Wal-Mart and picked up a couple of items to make my life a little easier. I arrived early at the college, but loading in the gear for the show turned out to be challenging because the cafeteria didn't include a door that was large enough for the Incredible Cash Cube to fit through, so we managed to talk some Facilities technicians into removing a door for us. The sound system turned out to leave something to be desired, so I abandoned it and managed to do the show without it, and it turned out just fine. Being able to improvise is clearly the key in being able to do one of these game shows successfully.

Wednesday was a travel day, and I made my way up through Pueblo, Colorado Springs and Denver. The whole week before, I was nervous because of the reports of snow that the area had received, and not only because I don't enjoy driving in blizzards, but also because I had failed to bring foul-weather winter clothing. When I left Rochester, it was warming up and I decided that a heavy hooded sweatshirt would do the trick, and somehow decided to also pack a knit hat and gloves just in case. The good news is that the snow was gone, but I still wound up hitting Denver at 5 o'clock. It bothers me that in a time when we're supposedly experiencing record unemployment as a nation that it hasn't provided some relief on the highways of our major cities.

I made it all the way to North Platte, Nebraska, site of Mid Plains Community College, the next stop on my Dash For Dollars Western Tour. I was contemplating dragging my feet and stopping at the Nebraska-Colorado border and making the rest of the journey the next day, but the highway was empty, the sun was shining and I decided to go for it. If you're never driven across Nebraska, let me just say this; farm states are resplendent with manure, and there's no escaping it. There's two kinds of farms, crops and livestock. Livestock farms produce manure, and crop farms spread it around and let it bake in the sun. The odor floated around in my nose like ghosts in the attic of a haunted house. I checked into a Motel 6, did some laundry, and then watched TV because they didn't have wireless internet, and any attempt to dial-up would have resulted in long-distance charges. I was out there, Jack.

The next day, I packed up my stuff, hit the bank, ate lunch, shopped for props (do you realize how hard it is to find Bubblicious Bubblegum in a small town?), and then moved over to another hotel that Mid Plains had reserved for me. I realized somewhere along the line that my back brakes were grinding, and I needed to do what I do quite often; live in the future. I checked my date book to see when I would have a four-hour block of time to get work done on the van, and decided that I'd have to stick it out until Saturday morning when I'd be in a big city (Sioux City, Iowa) and close to the next gig (Newell-Fonda Community School, a mere 90 minutes away). I made my way to the gig, and found that they put me in a huge gymnasium reserved for basketball games. I had only played one other gymnasium in this first year of my game show hosting career, and that show was sparsely attended. I had a decent crowd and an extremely hospitable support staff at the college, and a stadium-worthy sound system that ROCKED!

Friday, I headed toward Sioux City, Iowa after reloading my cash supply at Wells-Fargo (who treated me very kindly in breaking up large bills even though I didn't have an account) and I rolled into town and checked into the Rodeway Inn. I had about 45 minutes to shower and dress before I had to leave for Briar Cliff University, and I made it with a few minutes to spare. Fred Seel, my contact at the school, had provided me with a detailed map so I knew exactly where I was going, which helped a lot. We had plenty of volunteers to help with the load-in (which isn't always the case) and we wound up needing them because the Cash Cube had to be carried down a small set of stairs into the performance area (and carried up the stairs on the way out). The show was awesome, with a lot of audience interaction, money flying through the air, and we even did a little video interview after the show as the winner of the contest and I got to enjoy a few minutes of fame. I'm happy to report that neither I nor the young lady who won the grand prize were asked our opinions about gay marriage; apparently that sort of thing can get you a lot of negative press.

Back at the ranch, I started combing the phone book looking for brake shops with Saturday hours, and I found one that was less than a mile and a half away from the hotel. I watched television until I passed out, and the next morning, called an establishment called Tires Tires Tires. The store was booked up and wouldn't be able to help me, but suggested that I try their other location. I had nightmare visions of having to drive 40 miles away, but it was just up the road about 5 or 6 miles. They got me in and I got the repairs done with enough time to get back to the hotel to shower and pack up. Unfortunately, I was in such a hurry, I left behind my phone and bluetooth charger. I had a backup bluetooth charger and I carry a phone charger in the van, but I was still pissed at myself for rushing out of the hotel. Seriously, if I was a few minutes late in checking out, what were they going to do, beat me up? My biggest problem seems to be (besides carelessness) that I never pack my luggage the same way twice, and so I never remember where I put stuff, and I can't do a check to make sure I didn't forget anything. Stuff like phone chargers like to hide because the outlets they're plugged into are always behind end tables and cabinets.

So now, here I am at the Super 8, getting ready for a 12:30 AM show, and looking down the barrel of a 635-mile drive tomorrow to Battle Creek, Michigan, to participate in a benefit show for Relay For Life, a cancer relief charity. I'm going to lose an hour as I return to the Eastern time zone, and the drive will take at least nine or ten hours if there are no weather or traffic related delays. The show starts at 7 PM, so the question I have to answer is when I have to leave Storm Lake to make it to Battle Creek in time to get a shower and dress. There's plenty of time for sleeping afterwards.

I'll be in Michigan for the rest of next week and then heading for home next Saturday. It's going to be good to get back home, and then on Sunday, May 3rd, I'll be performing at a tribute show for my friend, Tiny Glover, who passed away recently. May is going to be a relatively slow month with a lot of time off to spend at home, and I'll be looking forward to it. Right now, it's time to get into "show" mode by ironing a shirt and getting a shower. I usually get ready for shows with mindless activities that keep me distracted from the task before me.

You don't think these blogs write themselves, do ya?

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Tessie (Dropkick Murphys)

2009-04-08T15:52:00.001-07:00

Well, it's that time of year again, and that means that baseball season has started. And it's time for me to come clean to the American public, and state, for the record, THAT I HATE BASEBALL.

Always have. It's a fucking pox. It's a shitty game. Boring as hell, puffed up on it's own self-importance, and followed by the shallowest of human beings.

The big arguments are widely held, even by fans and people in the baseball industry. And yet they blindly soldier on, drinking beer, eating peanuts, and keeping track of statistics. Well, let's take a look at this bullshit game that stopped being the "national pastime" sometime during the Nixon administration.

1. THEY PLAY TOO MANY GAMES. 162 games a year, to be precise. Well, let's do the math...that's double the games that hockey and basketball teams play in a season, and about ten times the number of games a football team plays. So basically what you're telling me is that a team could dump a ton of games in the crapper, and still be considered one of the best. All sports is frivolous, but baseball seeks to make frivolity an art form. Let's cut the season down to a reasonable number of games so that individual games actually mean something. I think baseball sucks, so I'd be satisfied with every team playing every other team once and then start the playoffs. Hell, NFL teams go eight years before they go through the rotation and play every other team, and they have the same number of teams.

2. BASEBALL IS NOT A TEAM SPORT. When it comes down to it, the game is a face off between a pitcher and a batter. And most of the fielding team doesn't even move once a ball is put in play. You want to liven the sport up for Ralph Tetta? You want to get me involved? Get rid of the benches, and let the batter's team hang out on the field. Easy out, pop fly? The batter has a guy right there to push the fielder out of the way and prevent him from catching the batter "out." Or, he could catch the ball, and then the batter's team plays a spirited game of "keep away" while the batter rounds the bases. Either way, you've got a sport that's fun to watch and challenging to play. Now that I've chimed in with my plan for improvement, regular baseball sounds like shit, doesn't it? You're god damned right it does.

3. THEY CALL THE CHAMPION SHIP "THE WORLD SERIES." And all the teams are from the United States, unless the Toronto Blue Jays somehow sneak into the playoffs. The only thing "world" about the series is that there are usually a butt-load of South American and Asian guys on the teams, and what does that say about the game when Asian guys are athletic enough to make the team?

4. THE MANAGERS WEAR UNIFORMS. Fucking ridiculous. Granted, it's rooted in tradition when the manager of a team would also be a player, but again, how stupid does some old fat guy look trotting out in pinstripes? It's as out of place as the 14-year-old kid who rings your door at Halloween looking for candy, and it needs to go. And how about updating the look of the uniforms, anyway? A baseball team looks like a busload of douche bags in their pajamas...they're not on their way to a physical contest, it's nap time.

5. THE ALL-STAR GAME IS PLAYED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SEASON. Not to be disparaging, but is that really fair to all the players? A guy who's picked as an "all-star" could shit the bed in the second half, or a rookie player could hit his stride and start streaking after being passed over. Fuck if we're gonna be so nonchalant about the placement of the All-Star game, play the fucking thing in the winter. During Christmas week, when everyone's out of town for the holidays.

6. DOUBLE HEADERS. Let's face it, if you can play two games in a day, it's not even physically strenuous enough to be called a sport. And what happens when your team wins one and loses the other? What are you supposed to do, celebrate and mope?

Baseball appeals to people who like statistics. You know who else likes numbers that much? Accountants. And everyone knows what a bag of laughs they are. Baseball is an out-of-date system that we keep in place for some misguided traditionalism, like the Electoral College. It has no place in society, and takes more than it gives. Congress actually got side-tracked from dealing with real issues like war and the economy to try and figure out if players had used steroids or not. I demand a recount.

Baseball is light on action. If you want to play up the strategy aspect of the game, here's a one-word rebuttal.....chess. My amplified answer is "Chess, motherfucker." During an NFL contest, every player on the field is in motion. During an NBA or NHL contest, every player is in motion until the period is over. In baseball, there's a lot of standing around.....talking......and scratching. Sometimes, the manager and the catcher take a stroll out to the mound for a sidebar. YAWN.

Some of the teams are named after laundry. The Boston Red Sox? You do realize that this nick-name is only one generation removed from calling themselves the Boston White-Striped Boxer-Briefs. Lame, lame, and more lame.

In closing, I will offer one positive observation about baseball, just so you baseball lovers won't think I'm all bad. Baseball has provided people like me who don't like guns an alternate form of home security in the baseball bat. It's way more effective than trying to chase off home invaders with a hockey stick or a ping-pong paddle.

Play ball.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester (Red Wings), NY

Everyday I Write The Book (Elvis Costello)

2009-04-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

It's funny how things change. Mostly, change comes gradually...you don't notice it because it's a small change each day, but then months or years down the road, you compare whatever it is that changed to the way it used to be, and it's a drastic difference.

Want proof? Look at your high school graduation photo, and then look in the mirror. I'll wait.

Big difference, huh? Unless you're Michael J. Fox, who for some reason is holding on pretty well.

I mention change because I've certainly changed. I used to blog about three times a week, and now I finally get a chance to sit down and write, and I look at the date of my last entry, and it's been two weeks. The way it feels, it might as well be a lifetime.

I'm always on the fence about what I should write. The least interesting types of blogs, my friend Ward told me today, are the "road diary" types of blogs (what I had for lunch, where I'm playing this week, how the crowds were, etc.) and the current events, political or philosophical blogs.

Unfortunately, those are the two big guns in my arsenal.

When I do write something funny, I try to record it as a podcast and post it on my primary website, www.ralphtetta.com. As my webmaster Bruce would tell you, I'm sporadic at best at generating new material, and to be more honest about it, piss-poor. I've written one thing this YEAR. That blows.

I'm writing a book about standup comedy. I have a great deal of it already finished, but I showed it around to a bunch of fledgling comics for their feedback, and got lots of great ideas about things that should be added and amplified. I've hoped to use some of my down-time to get the writing done, but there's always something cool on TV, or the internet, or one of the books I brought to read, the complimentary USA today from the hotel, or just a nap.

I have an idea for a CD full of "radio plays" that I think would be great fun to record. Basically, a comedy album full of sketches that include audio only. I've written one sketch, and figure I need between nine and twelve more. That project is dry-docked until I can get off my ass.

My discipline is for shit.

I've become the most useless person I could possibly be; I'm a writer who doesn't write.

I've gotten accolades in the past for my writing abilities; now I'm resting on my laurels. I need a kick in the ass to get going again, and I just don't know how to do it. I've been keeping plenty busy with the college tour, and I've got Easter week off, but I can tell you right now what's going to happen; I'm going to get home from New Mexico, and I'm going to decompress and spend time with my family who will be hogging my time because they haven't seen me in a month. Then I'm hitting the road again for about three weeks. Hopefully I can shake out some of the dust, but lately I just feel unmotivated. I'm actually only writing this blog to get the juices flowing.

I wish it was just writer's block. I can beat that. I've learned all the tricks. I'm just dodging the task at hand with other bullshit pursuits. The upside is that I've consumed so much news, I'm an expert at most anything going on in the world today. Go ahead, try me.

O.K. I think I've indulged in enough self-flagellation for one day. Maybe I can get some work done now. I'll check in from time to time and tell you how it's going.

Crap. "Family Guy" is on.....

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Working On A Dream (Bruce Springsteen)

2009-03-19T07:56:00.000-07:00

Thursday, March 19, 2009-11:00 A.M.

Good morning, readers from blogger.com, Facebook, MySpace, and ComedySoapbox. I'm delighted that you chose to take a few minutes to read me and see what's on my mind.

In the past few years that I've been putting fingers to keyboard, I've attempted to chronicle my journey in the world of standup comedy and professional entertainment. At key points in my life, I've deviated from that path to share personal musings, recognize departed family and friends, and discuss current events of interest.

I've always attempted to keep a balance; to provide as much information as possible to give a real look at what my life on the road is like, but not so much that it becomes a boring exercise. Sometimes I manage the task quite handily, and sometimes you read about my roast beef sandwich that I made in my hotel room after a show.

My life has always seemed to have been chopped up into four-year increments; I do something for four years, and then move on. I spent four years in college, four years managing the Comix Cafe, and now toured the country for eight years in the comedy clubs. I guess I enjoyed this part of the ride so much, I did two tours. And now I'm starting what I have to assume is another four-year stint hosting the college game show "Dash For Dollars."

I'm absolutely loving it, and each college that I visit brings a new challenge. Some schools are bigger than others, some are situated in densely populated urban settings, others out in the country among the cornfields. Some colleges provide huge performance venues, others have access to more intimate spaces. I welcome the challenge that each school provides, and work according to the specifications.

The thing that they all have in common is the trust they put in me to provide a great show, and I work very hard to make sure that I deliver on that promise. The students are the stars of the show, not me, and I try not to forget that. I deliver the show with the promise of fair play, sportsmanship, and the idea that a positive attitude will be rewarded, and not just greed. And some audiences are better at accepting that than others. I roll with the punches, do my job and let the chips fall where they may. A roller coaster has to creek slowly up a hill to provide the rush of the plunge down the other side.

The great advantage that this new opportunity has afforded me is that I'm working constantly, doing colleges mostly during the week, and leaving weekends open for club work, which I still enjoy. The disadvantage is that the time I've been allowed to spend at home to reconnect with my family and decompress has shrunk, and made those moments more precious. But a curious side effect has also taken hold, and that is that I'm absorbing even more news now than I used to. There's a great deal of down time on the road, and I've got all the tools at my disposal to absorb a ridiculous amount of information. In the vehicle, I have satellite radio, and now that XM and Sirius have merged, there's about 250 channels to surf through. Every hotel has some sort of cable package, and my laptop provides constant connection to the internet, which I access for what seems like every waking moment. Today, they pushed a USA Today under my door. I literally can't stop the information from flowing.

With all that being said, I come to my point; I finally understand why our economy collapsed. From what I understand, the problem stemmed from the housing market. Banks were writing mortgages at sub-prime rates, which allowed people to purchase homes they couldn't afford. At the same time, housing prices were going through the roof because everyone could basically get the financing they needed to purchase the homes. As demand went up and the supply stayed constant, the price went up; simple economics. Then the banks, knowing that many of these mortgages were going to wind up in foreclosure, went to companies like AIG to insure the loans, which was smart. The problem was that AIG was insuring the loans at a much greater ratio than their actual asset ability to provide. They would then bundle these debts as securities and made them available to investors, and of course, they weren't worth the paper they were printed on because they were unsustainable debts backed by money that just wasn't there.

So when regular working folks who had these mortgages for homes they couldn't possibly afford started defaulting, the banks started collecting on the insurance of these bad mortgages, and the whole house of cards fell down. AIG failed, which meant that the banks holding all of these bad mortgages failed, and the investors who plowed money into AIG lost their investments, which in many cases represented their retirement funds.

There are other factors in play, and I don't have a background in economics so I can't really comment, but it seems that the whole mess is predicated on a few simple factors; first, that Americans couldn't pass up the idea that they could live in a house beyond their means to maintain, and second, that the banks couldn't pass up the profit that they would make writing mortgages far and above the business that they would normally do, and not see it as a risk because they were able to get the loans insured. And there was no regulation going on at any point of the cycle.

People who know me know that I would have no problem laying the blame for this squarely at the feet of the Republican President of the last eight years, but there is essentially no one person who can shoulder the blame. President Calvin Coolidge famously said, "The business of America is business." Capitalism should exist for the purpose of individuals making money, providing a comfortable lifestyle, allowing ones self to raise a family, and to secure a retirement free of worry. The social contract, though, is that money should be earned, and be based on something; usually the sweat of one's brow or the product of a factory or field. That's all there is on the playing field, folks....goods and services. Products and labor. And when we start shifting around air, we blow up a balloon that has no choice but to pop.

But who can blame the financial sector for contriving such a scheme? We don't have goods and services anymore. We allow China to make all of our consumer goods, and we ship our jobs to Mexico and India and anywhere else we can, favoring the 60 cents a day worker over our American minimum wage which stifles a corporation's profitability. So there's nothing left to do but trade in money, and bundled debt disguised as securities. And watch the stock market drop like a rock that moments ago was skipping along the surface of the lake.

We need a way out. The Republicans cry "tax cuts!" but how much of a tax cut could you provide for someone to keep them in their home? To rebuild their shattered nest egg? To allow a company to start hiring workers again and provide them an income with which to start anew? I personally don't think it's possible.

I think the answer is that we have to start making things again. We need to open factories, hire workers here in the United States, and start elevating the middle class...because the middle class is the class that actually consumes the goods.

I don't know the ins-and-outs of farm subsidies, but I do know that there's less food in the world than there are people who need to be fed. Why are we not producing as much food as possible? Instead of sending cash overseas in the form of foreign aid (which I believe we should be doing, absolutely) why are we not sending boatloads of grain? There are probably factors I'm not considering like spoilage, cost of distribution, etc, but again, I don't claim to be an expert. I'm just a man crying out in the wilderness looking for answers.

Can we start working again? Can we reclaim our American dream?

How about this....health care seems to be on a lot of people's minds, and rightfully so. The state of health care in this country is unsatisfactory by anyone's standards except for perhaps the pharmaceutical manufacturers and insurance agencies. Every doctor I've spoken to (not enough for a sample, but enough to make me say this without hesitancy) is in favor of a single-payer health care system. Preventative medicine seems to be the area in which we particularly lag in this country. And that means that illnesses, ailments and conditions don't get treated until they are in the drastic stages, and they become more difficult to cure. How much do we waste by allowing people to get that sick? And how much does overall production suffer due to lost time on the job by workers who are out sick? Has anyone calculated that cost?

And of course, all of this speculation falls on the shoulders of one man; President Obama. I trust President Obama, and I think a lot of Americans do, too. Currently, his popularity is riding around 60%, but even that number is moving downward as impatient Americans look for answers and results. He understands that in order for us to dig our way out of the hole, we need shovels. And right now, the government is in the best position to provide those shovels.

Obama's plan at this point seems to be a carbon copy of Franklin Roosevelt's plan, to start building infrastructure (which to be fair, we do need) and creating jobs. We almost need a Marshall plan to rebuild America much as Japan was rebuilt after World War II. There are critics of Obama's plan, to be sure, and the rhetoric seems to center around the idea that "You can't spend your way out of a recession." The criticism shrivels a bit when you change the word "spend" into the word "invest." Building safe bridges, levies, dams, roads and highways is an expenditure, to be sure, but it is an investment. Just as having up-to-date schools to educate and train the next generation of Americans is also an expenditure, it is no less an investment.

My father lived through the Great Depression, and now it looks as though I'll get the opportunity to do the same. And I've decided that perhaps this is something that America needs right now. In times of trouble, we pull together and help each other, we share what we have and we lift each other up. We speak more softly and we listen a little more carefully, because we're all in this together. And we embody the great American spirit that all things are possible if we stick together, join hands, contribute our talents to the pool and push in the same direction.

We need hope, not despair. We need to roll up our sleeves and start working again. And we need each other.

There is an old English proverb that goes like this; "Fear knocked at the door and Faith answered, and lo, no one was there."

Have faith in God, each other, and yourself. We can do this. And if you know someone who needs encouragement, please send this along as a text or a link.

Let's get to work.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

This Land Is Your Land (Woody Guthrie)

2009-03-07T07:05:00.000-08:00

Not to over dramatize, but I woke up this morning feeling like a gunfighter who had to shoot 50 cowboys the night before.

I'm in Canton, NY, the home of SUNY Canton, and the first return engagement of the Dash For Dollars Comedy Game Show in my tenure as host.

When last I checked in, I was heading towards Warwick, Rhode Island and the Comedy Zone at the Showcase Cinemas. The drive from Rutland, Vermont wasn't very long, but it did take me through Boston. I think sometimes that directions provided by a GPS system or calculated by Mapquest, RandMcNally.com or some other service, are not the best directions because even though they calculate the directions as being the fastest or shortest routes, they don't take into account the rush hour traffic (or even general daytime congestion) that can occur in major metropolitan areas. As soon as I noticed that the GPS was sending me to Boston, I gritted my teeth, but kept on going because it was early afternoon and I figured I'd catch a break.

Well, as it turned out, I did catch a break and even though there was a slowdown or two, I wound up making it into Rhode Island with plenty of time to spare. I checked in to the hotel and didn't see many cars, but the hotel was full; that's because there was a college women's basketball tournament going on, and everyone had arrived on a single bus. And the whole time I'm sitting there thinking, "I'm in a hotel filled with female college basketball players, why didn't this shit ever happen when I was single?" Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, but her turnaround-jumper is for shit. Ha ha, just kidding, I love you honey, stop hitting me.

I was working at the Comedy Zone with fellow road dog Mutzie from New Orleans, Louisiana. Mutzie and I work a lot together, and I think that's part and parcel of the Comedy Zone's faith in us to deliver a great show. The room at the Showcase Cinemas was a new endeavor, and even though there had been comedy done in movie theaters before (Buffalo had the famous Como 8 comedy night, lovingly re-named the "Coma 8" by disenchanted Western New York comics for the less-than stellar turnouts and reactions from the sparse audiences), but this was a whole different animal. The Showcase Cinemas had literally turned one of their 16 screening rooms into a real comedy club, complete with tables down in the front, a great stage, beautiful sound and lighting, a full restaurant menu (not just popcorn, but they had that, too), and a liquor license! They really did the place up nice, and it was a joy to perform there. They had printed up really nice lobby cards, those big posters that you see in theaters that specialize in live theater, plays and stuff like that, and there in glorious color was my new headshot! After the weekend was over, the cards were going to be discarded in favor of the next week's performers, so Mutzie and I grabbed one each for a souvenir. It was really a great weekend, with plenty of folks coming in, many for the first time, and I think Mutzie and I made a good impression on them.

During the day on Saturday I did the road comic thing, getting up early to grab the complimentary continental breakfast and then doing laundry, and napping because I knew that Sunday morning I was going to need to beat some weather. A big snowstorm was coming, and I had one day to drive to my next game show date in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I got up early enough on Sunday to get coffee, jump in the van, and get out of town before the first snowflakes could hit the ground. I will compress the next 13 hours into as small a space as possible; I drove to Indiana, stopped for gas several times and also to use the bathroom, talked on the phone, listened to talk radio, and tried not to let the uninteresting terrain of Pennsylvania and Ohio hypnotize me into driving off of the road. When I reached the hotel in Fort Wayne, I was exhausted. Even though it's just driving in a van, it's pretty tough work, especially if you're sharing the road with truckers jacked up on coffee, energy drinks, truck stop amphetamines (caffeine pills, my ass) and deadlines with delivery incentives.

I got about 6 hours of sleep and woke up the next morning, not completely sure exactly where I was. Luckily, the Student Activities director at the college called my cell phone and I snapped back to current reality. My venue had been changed at the college, so I got up and bee-lined for the proposed area. There were some difficulties, as in, the cash booth that is the center piece of my game show didn't fit into the building I was assigned to do the show. I had been warned to expect this sort of thing and prepare in advance, so I used my vast improvisational skills to figure out how to do the show without it, and even though it was a small turnout, we had a great time, the students loved the show, and I got out of there with a feeling of job satisfaction that I had done the best job I could. In retrospect, it was good thing that I didn't have to load in the cash booth, because the standard rider on the college contract is that the school provides help to load the unit in. The single person who was assigned to me was a pregnant secretary. She was helpful, but that wasn't the "two helpers" I was expecting. Pre-natal volunteers rarely carry their own weight in such circumstances, as said weight is in the single digits.

After the show it was back east to Cleveland, Ohio, where I did a very exciting show at Cuyahoga Community College in the downtown area. The school was in the general vicinity of the Cleveland Improv comedy club, so I was somewhat familiar with the area. I caught a break in the morning as one of my pre-show duties is to visit a bank and replenish the cash that is necessary to put in the money booth, and broken into the correct increments. You can't just shove any amount of money you want in there, it has to be $500 and in the proper amount of bills. The hotel had a cash machine in their lobby, and after chatting with the folks at the desk, they told me that they were both willing and able to break the $20 bills that the ATM would provide into the bills that I would need. It saved me a trip, and I used the time savings to relax with the paper, some coffee, and a hot bowl of oatmeal (always working on my cholesterol, I am).
The real fun of the week was to happen the next day, in Middletown, Ohio, home of the Middletown campus of Miami of Ohio University. I got to the hotel just a little before 7 in the evening, in time to enjoy the manager's reception in the lobby, which garnered me free nachos. I put together a bowl with some nice hot cheese sauce (I somehow always undermine my efforts to work on my cholesterol) and retired to my room to enjoy movies on HBO and an early night's sleep. The next morning, I was up with the birds and ready to start my day.

I headed down to the breakfast area to put together a plate with some eggs, sausage, and a nice bowl of oatmeal. I grabbed some coffee and skim milk and set myself up at a table facing the wide-screen television in the breakfast room. I was enjoying my breakfast and the local newscast, when an older gentleman, probably in his 50's, sat down at the table next to me with his plate.

This gentleman had put together a huge amount of food, eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, and it was all chopped up together into a big mound. He was a portly type, with a clean flannel shirt, tucked into his jeans, and wearing a pair of wide suspenders. He had a bald head, but a big white beard that made me think of Santa Claus for some reason. He looked like a blue-collar type, and for some reason, I figured he was an electrician or something. The table he chose was parallel to mine, and he was facing the TV, and literally was no farther away from me than a foot. The tables in the breakfast area were quite close together.

After he put his plate down, he got up and changed the station on the TV, which immediately pissed me off. Shared television etiquette dictates that you can't just change the station without asking if anyone else was watching the program that was on (which I was), and also first-come, first-served comes into play as well. And to make matters worse? This son-of-a-bitch put on FOX NEWS. So now I am doubly pissed....he jumped the TV for his own purpose, fuck everyone else who was there first, and he's a right-wing conservative. I sat there and stewed in my own anger, because I never would have just assumed that I could switch off the local news and choose some left-leaning program that I would have liked, I would always have some sort of sense of decorum for those in the room that wouldn't enjoy such programming.

So I'm sitting there hating this contemptuous individual, and a lady in a sports jacket comes over and addresses him. "Sir, are you a hotel guest?"

And there's a pause. I know immediately that he's not a guest, and he just snuck in to cadge the free breakfast.

"I'm with (inaudible) up in room (inaudible)." He's sitting right next to me, I'm right there in the middle of this, and even though I know this guy's getting his comeuppance, I'm uncomfortable.

"Sir, the breakfast is a courtesy for our hotel guests. You can't help yourself AND YOU'VE BEEN TOLD THIS BEFORE." The son-of-a-bitch has done it before! I'm delighting in the embarrassment of the situation. I try not to smirk, finish my coffee and get the hell out of there.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and try to draw some parallel between people who watch Fox News and people who steal complimentary hotel breakfasts that they're not entitled to. But it's interesting, is it not, that this cat did what he did? He wandered in from off the street (and if he's done this before, he's a local resident), helped himself to some food he had no intention of paying for, commandeered the television set to his own liking, and sat there with no qualms.

It seems like a sense of entitlement to me. It seems like (at it's worst) THEFT. Conversion for personal gain. And this sense of entitlement, from a man who I assume because of his choice of Fox News, a conservative-leaning programmer, would rail against such things as the cost of this entitlement lays squarely on the backs of the people who PAY for lodging in the hotel. So much for individual achievement, huh? So much for the rejection of entitlements, Socialist ideas, the idea that everyone should be fed and cared for.

Coincidentally, there were some folks milling around in the breakfast area earlier, before Mr. Suspenders showed up, and they were speaking German, which I don't speak. But there is a German word, and you may have heard of it, known as Schadenfreude. Translated, this word means secretly delighting in the misfortune of others. I confess that I felt this as I made my way to the elevator, that this man who I don't like was found out to be a thief, a hypocrite, and was told off by the hotel staff. My show was fine, and there was an eight-hour drive home, and I whistled all the way.

I mentioned the story to my mother-in-law the next day, and she postulated that maybe the guy was homeless. Maybe he couldn't afford food. In truth, he was too clean and well groomed to make me think that he was indigent in any way, but that begs another question; why would a homeless guy be watching Fox News? The Right's whole shtick seems to be that if you're down on your luck, it's because you didn't work hard enough, and giving you a handout is hurting you because it will take away your impetus to work harder and do better for yourself.

It's hogwash, by the way. It assumes that everyone has equal access to the tools of success, and there's no such thing as bad luck. Tell it to someone who has a child with a catastrophic illness, a birth defect, a special need. Tell it to someone who just isn't mathematically inclined and gets enough B's on their high school transcript that they aren't eligible for an academic scholarship, but their family is also too well off to qualify for a needs-based scholarship. Tell it to someone who for a million different reasons, falls through the cracks and works as hard as they can, but still wind up with a bare-bones subsistence life.

Boy, wouldn't it be great if it were different? We could all afford our own eggs and sausage. We wouldn't worry about someone taking the toast off of our plate. "Why should I share my breakfast with that guy? I earned this breakfast. Tell him to get a job."

My breakfast was provided by the hotel, and the hotel room was paid for by the college I was performing at that day, as a part of my compensation. I worked for my breakfast. And here's the worst part of the story....if Mr. Suspenders was truly in need, truly hungry, homeless, down on his luck, his wife's in the hospital with breast cancer and her illness has drained their savings down to the last dime he had to spend on breakfast, if he had come up to me with any of those stories, I would have given him my breakfast. Regardless of his choice of television shows. I would have made up a plate for him, chopped up the sausage and eggs, put the gravy on, and sat with him outside in my van, heat blowing, while he ate his breakfast.

Because I love people. I hate to see people hurting. I hate to see them go without, to be down, to feel like no one's on their side. It's why I'm a Liberal. If I have ten dollars and you have nothing, then the truth is we both have five dollars and we're eating at Subway. And next week, maybe you'll have ten dollars and I'll be broke, but it won't matter because you'll honor our social compact and we'll be at Subway, having a sandwich and enjoying the feeling that says we're not alone today. It's why we live in cities, close to each other. It's why we have Neighborhood Watch (Socialist idea), neighborhood schools (Socialist idea), why we go to church together (Socialist, Socialist, Socialist) and donate to charities, and build playgrounds and let our children play together and why we work together. We are not alone. We don't rise and fall based on our own merits. We need each other.

Don't let anyone tell you different.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Meeting Across The River (Bruce Springsteen)

2009-02-26T20:53:00.000-08:00

Thursday, February 26, 2009-11:55 P.M.

Good evening from the cold, snowy, wind-swept, frigid, warmth-challenged town of Rutland, Vermont, home of The College of St. Joseph (CSJ). I'm in the middle of the big tour, taking the Dash For Dollars Comedy Game Show out on the road, as well as my own hilarious comedy show.

This week, I knocked two more states out of the box, New Jersey and Vermont. Believe it or not, in 20 years of doing standup comedy, I'd never performed in either state, and they both border my home state of New York. Well, that monkey's finally off my back! I started out Sunday night heading south for Jersey, the town of Carneys Point to be precise, and even though it's in southern New Jersey, it is really a Philadelphia suburb. I got in rather late due to some unexpected weather that wasn't horrible but the snow was obfuscating the white lines on route 81 and I couldn't see a damn thing. By the time I got into New Jersey, everything was fine and I was off to the races.

The show went off fine, although I had to do some 11th hour prop-shopping. In the game show, we use several wacky props, and while most of them are re-used, some of them get consumed, like toilet paper and bubble gum. I set up my show, and then ran out for said props, returning with plenty of time to spare. The show was fine, but afterwards, I was bushed; I got in late the night before and really didn't wind up getting a good night's sleep, and coupling that with a 9 AM report time, I was pretty spent.

After the show, I dragged my feet and then finally packed up and headed for Newton, New Jersey, located in the northern part of the state. I didn't have a hotel reservation, as the college decided instead to provide me with a lodging stipend. The problem was that when I arrived, all the hotels were sold out. I wound up staying in a location slightly farther away from the college than I would have preferred, but even though it was a mom 'n' pop, they had wireless internet, a fridge and microwave in the room, and all the comforts of home. They even provided shampoo.....take *that,* Motel 6!

I had a day off so I used the time productively, getting the van an oil change, doing some writing, and mostly listening to and dissecting President Obama's address to Congress. Wednesday morning, I checked out and made my way to Sussex County Community College, where my reception was warm and welcoming. They even gave me a special parking tag that allowed me to basically park right up against the building where the game show was being staged, and that was quite appreciated. The cash booth is cumbersome enough, without considering a 25 gallon storage tote full of props, the tripods and frames for the backdrop and the vinyl backdrop itself, four hula hoops and a putter....it's a pain toting all that stuff in from parts unknown!

The Monday morning show was hard, and I expected that it would be. Monday mornings, it's hard to get motivated and excited. But the Wednesday show was like pulling teeth! I couldn't predict how difficult it would be to come onto a college campus and basically give away money, and get ignored like a guy at an off-ramp with a cardboard sign that said "Hungry-Homeless-Help." But there I was, begging for some sort of interaction with a crowd of students who couldn't be bothered. Oh well. Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug.

After the show, I headed north to Rutland, Vermont, and the College of St. Joseph where I currently reside. No game show for me this evening, rather, my own headlining set. CSJ is a small college, but the people opened their doors to me and really made me feel welcome. The advantage of the size of the school is that everyone is on a first-name basis. The school provided me with on-campus accommodations, basically a dorm room, which was perfect. I got in Wednesday night and settled in, visiting the "downtown" area of Rutland in search of dinner and a LAN cord to take advantage of the internet connection in the dorms. I found a decent Chinese buffet, and after dinner, retreated to the dorm for a good night's sleep.

Today, I had lunch with Rob Lukaskiewicz, the gentleman in charge of student affairs and my gracious host. We had a nice chat and spoke of many things, including the challenges of parenthood, student involvement on college campuses, and the book I'm writing about standup comedy. He had his fingers crossed regarding the attendance of the show (the "town hall" meeting of the night before drew zero) and we were pleased that the total attendance fell just a few heads short of our goal. The show itself was staged in a beautiful 200-seat theater, and it was the type of venue I wish I had the opportunity to play in all the time. After the show, I chit-chatted with some of the students, then grabbed some sandwiches from the on-campus sub shop and retreated to my room to watch movies on DVD and of course, compose this blog.

Tomorrow, it's off to Warwick, Rhode Island, and a two-day engagement at the Comedy Zone (I've heard nothing but good things) and then Sunday is a day off to make it to Fort Wayne, Indiana for the game show. Tuesday and Wednesday I make my way back home with gameshow dates in Cleveland and Middletown, Ohio, and then Thursday night, I'll be judging the finals of the standup comedy competition back home in Rochester. Friday night, the game show runs back up to Canton, NY (my first repeat engagement since taking the gig) and then a weekend off before heading to Connecticut, West Virginia and Virginia. March is shaping up to be a very busy month, and that's fine with me. I love the stage and the opportunity to perform for appreciative audiences. And to be completely honest, I'm happy to have a job in a time when a lot of people don't, either for the want of a job or just having lost a good one. And I'm doubly lucky that it's a job that's so much fun, it doesn't even feel like work.

Stay warm....the winter's almost over.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Used Cars (Bruce Springsteen)

2009-02-16T17:03:00.000-08:00

February 16, 2009-8:05 P.M.

Wow. The days are starting to blend together, even more than they used to.

I've been staying busy, and I'm starting to wonder whether or not "burn out" is better than "rust out." God knows, I've done them both.

I only wound up doing one show at Pare Restaurant back on Saturday the 7th, but it was a good one. I worked with Rochester comics Dan Maslyn and Annette Lorenzo. The room was full, and set up just fine for comedy. I pulled out all of the air in my lungs and did an hour and 5 in the closing spot....I don't know what I'll ever be able to do to placate my love of the stage....when I get up there, I can't stop! It's a sickness! Still, it was a fine show with a lot of nice comments afterward.

Sunday morning, I packed and headed off to Buena Vista University in Storm Lake, Iowa, for another installment in the college tour of Dash For Dollars, the comedy game show. I drove all day, starting around 10:30 in the morning, and managed to escape the death-trap that is Chicago, Illinois. I was sure I would wind up hitting major traffic there, but Loren, my assistant (ok, she's the voice programmed into my Tom-Tom GPS) re-routed me further south so I didn't have to deal with it. I got in to the hotel around 2:30 in the morning, but I picked up an hour because of the time change. I slept well after the 16 hour drive, as you could imagine.

The next morning, I was up super-early, and hit the continental breakfast (you gotta love waffles) and actually attempted to hit the work-out room, but the treadmill was busted. I always have a weird feeling using hotel excercise equipment these days, as my friend Tiny expired about a year ago doing exactly the same thing. The hotel desk clerk claimed that the machine had been repaired, but I found it unplugged and when I plugged it in, it only worked for a minute or two and then the power shut off, and I decided that I didn't need more of a hint to pack it in for the day.

I checked out of the hotel and headed over to the college, where I wound up spending the day. I did a lunch-time teaser event, handing out t-shirts and money to promote the evening event, and then killed time. I set up the equipment for the show, ate lunch, and went to the bank to get the proper increments of currency for the money booth. After the show, the students from the Student Activities Board treated me to dinner and even gave me some burgers to go, and I hit the road. The first thing I did was to gas up, because Iowa is a long, wide and unforgiving state, and there is nothing happening between the major cities. There was some sort of windstorm hitting the area, and I pumped gas as the corrugated steel canopy above me at the gas station shook like it was about to come loose. The winds howled at me all the way east, and around midnight, I decided I'd had enough. My destination was a Motel 6 (the preferred accomodations of the Ralph Tetta national comedy and game show tour) and I found one in Cedar Rapids. Imagine my surprise when at check-in, the desk clerk punched my driver's license information into the computer and then announced that I'd stayed at that particular property before. In fact, almost two years earlier to the day. I had to think about it, and talking to my mother on the phone the next day, I realized it was the tour that killed my old Toyota Corolla back in 2007.

Tuesday, I drove back the rest of the way and managed to get home before midnight. I listened to so much talk radio I actually overdosed and by the end of the drive, I was searching frantically for a music channel that was playing something that I not only like but wasn't sick of yet. I've spent years working in radio and there's not a lot of music I can say that for. Lately I've been digging the Bruce Springsteen sattelite radio channel, but I know the day is going to come when I tell the Boss to take his job and shove it. It's probably going to take a long time for that to happen, because I have a ridiculous fascination with Bruce. I also agree 100% with his politics, so maybe I'll stay in the union for a while...and as long as the new albums keep holding up, I should be alright.

Thursday, I hosted at The Comedy Club in Webster, bringing the first group of semi-finalists for their in-house comedy contest to the stage, and finishing up by introducing Kris Shaw, a comedy buddy of mine from Indianapolis, Indiana. They asked me to do five minutes to warm up, and of course, I went over. It takes me five minutes to remember my jokes, much less tell them. Two of the four contestants tied, and will move on to the finals, Dan Maslyn and Pat Duffy. I'm judging again this Thursday, and I'm looking forward to seeing who else will advance.

Saturday, Pamela and I packed up the car, dropped Harmony over to my mother-in-law's house, and headed to the Western Ohio town of Beaverdam, for an evening comedy show on Valentine's Day. The trip got started about 90 minutes later than I had hoped, as wrangling my wife and daughter into the car is only slightly less challenging than herding cats. After much Andy Capp and Flossy fighting in the car, we made it to the Comfort Inn and I started getting ready, pressing my clothes, shaving, and getting ready for the 9 PM show. We hadn't had dinner and were trying to figure out where we could eat in a timely fashion, what with it being Valentine's Day, a Saturday, and a small town with limited options. We wound up having to go to Lima, the next largest town over, and after seeing a mob scene at the chain restaurants around the mall, opted for a Captain D's meal, which pleased my "vegetarian wife who still eats seafood" to no end (the actual term is pesce-vegetarian, but I like to call her a "pesty vegetarian"). We arrived at the club with plenty of time to spare and were pleased to see that there was a full boat in attendance.

I was working with Scott Dunn, a former Rochester home-boy (actually he worked in Batavia) who now makes his home in Indiana and he's a regular caller to the Bob and Tom radio show, and a draw in the midwest. I did my 35 minutes with relish, and had so much fun with the accomodating crowd that I had to cut set-ups and did the last 10 minutes as punchlines only. It wasn't really that bad, but it seemed like it in my head. I wound up getting a phenomenal reaction overall, the owner was pleased, and I sold a boatload of CD's and DVD's after the show. It was great.

On the trip home, we were frought with pitfalls every step of the way. I stopped at a gas station in front of the hotel to repleshish the window wash fluid in the car, and the hood wouldn't close. We drove the first 100 miles with the hood rattling and looking like it would fly up in our faces at any moment. We finally pulled into a Wal-Mart in Fremont, Ohio and got an oil change, which the car probably needed anyway (my wife's car has no documentation in that respect....no window sticker, no receipts, and no memory of when the service was done last). Along with the oil change came the added service of the technician properly clicking the hood down into a fixed position. I guess we're good until we have to get under there again, hopefully it won't be too soon. Then, of course, driving through Cleveland, we hit two pockets of snowfall that looked like we were dead in the water, and then they dried up as quickly as they came. It was bizarre. We finally made it home, and I can't remember when I've been this tired. I took all day today to rest and recuperate, and luckily, I have no obligations until Friday, and it shouldn't be a bad excursion. I'm a little concerned, because next week, the college tour really starts revving up, as well as a weekend in Rhode Island. I'll also be performing for the first time in the states of Vermont and New Jersey, two close-by states to New York that have thus far eluded my grasp.

Hopefully the weather will cooperate, and it will be an uneventful tour. I'm just glad to be working, to be honest.

Thanks for reading, and be good now.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out (Bruce Springsteen)

2009-02-05T18:34:00.000-08:00

February 6, 2009-9:35 P.M.

Helldrive 2009 is officially over. Actually, it's been over for almost a week now, but I had to get out from under some things here at home before I could even sit down and write about the experience.

Helldrive 2009 is just a cute nickname I gave a two-week tour that I just completed. I always used to say that once a year, I torture myself with a routing just to keep myself honest. Now, after 5 or 6 years of doing that, I've entrusted the task to others, to make sure it gets done with no screw-ups.

Helldrive 2009 started on Wednesday, January 21st. Ray Salah and I were tapped to be the judges for The Comedy Club's "Last Comic Sitting" contest (www.thecomedyclub.us) and it was an interesting night, to say the least. I spotted stolen material from every generation of comedian from Pat Cooper all the way up to some thinly concealed Jim Gaffigan. I spotted every one of them, including evergreen theft-pots David Brenner and Lenny Bruce. I guess the rationale is that these budding comic wanna-bes are the only ones who ever listened to these records and there's no way they're gonna get nabbed. Well, they all got nabbed and none of them won.

After the show, I dropped Ray off at his house and picked up Joel Lindley for an overnight drive to Huntington, West Virginia. I'll spare you the gory details other than we got there in time for Joel to be spirited off to a radio interview and I collapsed into my sleep-number bed at the Pullman Plaza. That night, after readjusting and napping, I began my slate of shows at the Huntington Funny Bone. All I can say is "wow." What a great room, great people, great staff, perfect sound and lights and stage. It was literally perfect as far as the stage being just the right size to stalk around, just the right height to be seen from everywhere in the room without rising too lofty, just everything was exactly as it should have been. I didn't have one show the whole week that I wanted back; every once in a while, I'll say something that I just shouldn't have said, and the whole show will go to shit. This week, I was like Rumpelstiltskin, weaving gold out of straw. The room really spoiled me for every other comedy club I've had the pleasure of playing.

The Funny Bone is in a downtown mall/entertainment complex, and they have a trade-out agreement with the movie theater. I got to see Clint Eastwood's "Gran Torino" and I have to say that it was just excellent. The movie wasn't entirely perfect, but it surely would have gotten a nine out of 10 from me if I were asked to rate it. If you're on the fence based on reviews you've seen or your own personal judgement of the trailers and previews, go see it and tell me I'm wrong that it was an excellent performance by Clint Eastwood. If you remember the movie "Heartbreak Ridge" that Eastwood did in the 80's, where he played Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Highway, this is like the continuing adventures of Gunny.

At the end of the weekend, namely Sunday night, Joel and I turned in our sets for the Sunday club-goers and bid farewell to snowy Huntington, piling into the car for the ride home. West Virginia was snowy and the roads were icy, winding and treacherous, but we made it home alive. I slept about two hours (!) and then got up, showered, and left again to hit the road. I picked up Ray and the van with the Dash For Dollars game show stuff in it and we headed towards Columbus, Ohio and Ohio Dominican University. Ray had even less sleep than I did, and opted to stay at the hotel and catch up with his shut-eye while I did the show. Running on adrenaline, caffeine and a sense of duty, I finished the show and returned to the hotel where I picked up Ray and we headed out for a late dinner. We found a family-style restaurant and some country cooking, and then returned to the hotel where I managed to fall asleep mid-sentence. I woke up at 5 in the morning with my stage clothes still on and my glasses askew.

The next morning, we headed off towards Chicago and managed to hit some of that horrible winter weather that was crushing the Midwest. We drove through Indianapolis, where they forgot what snowplows looked like, and pirouetted and sashayed all across the highway. By the time we reached Merrillville, Indiana, we bunked down for the night, figuring the next day would be easier as we were far enough north to be out of the storm. We got a good night's sleep and headed off early for Harold Washington College, which is located at the corner of Smack and Dab in downtown Chicago. To say that the city is congested is an understatement; parking is not only at a premium, it's expensive as hell. I wound up digging down for $50 (no lie) to park the van for the duration of my four hour work-day. The overhead train tracks wreaked havoc with my GPS and cell phone, and as hypnotizing as Chicago is from the skyline view you get when travelling west on the 90, I guess I wouldn't do very well living there with my sense of claustrophobia that I didn't even know I had.

The evening's dinner was Cracker Barrel, and food never tasted so good. It was damn near 5 PM and neither Ray nor I had eaten a bite since the day before. I had catfish and a loaf of biscuits and Ray had some sort of roast beef platter. Then we hit the road, traveling back through Indianapolis where I cashed in my Speedway loyalty card points and purchased gasoline for $1.17 a gallon. We headed south towards Cincinnati and finally, the highway turned to crap and we grabbed the first hotel we found, a Comfort Inn. The next day, we piloted our way through Kentucky and into Tennessee and some ice-storm ravaged country, but the roads were cleaned and salted and I guess it varies from community to community whether or not they can afford such luxuries as salt and plows, but the roads stayed clean well towards our final destination. We ate a Golden Corral buffet dinner (I know all the sweet restaurants, eh?) and had a little floor-show as a party who arrived just before we were about to leave bitched out a floor manager and a kitchen manager over an entire section of the restaurant that hadn't been bussed.....there were dirty dishes everywhere, and 90% of the patrons had tipped their server and gone. The young lady who was working point on this party of ten or more diners seemed nice at first, helping the one waitress who was working the section bus the tables and mentioning nicely that she had waitress ed before and knew how hard it was. They quickly cleared about three tables and shoved them together so that the party could sit down, and then she went into full puma mode, seeking out someone with a supervisor's name tag that she could dress down in the middle of the place. I looked down and away, and left my server another buck.

We kept moving until around midnight, and I managed to find a Motel 6 that I'd stayed at last year in Newport, Tennessee. It was just dumb luck that I stopped at that exit for gas, and started to recognize everything from my visit last summer. This was the town that I saw the first available midnight showing of The Dark Knight, and camped out two days in between engagements for The Comedy Zone in Clarksville and Johnson City, Tennessee. The Motel 6 is super clean, and offers free internet, and that's unusual for Motel 6's, they usually try to get you to pay around $3.50 for a day's use (which isn't bad, to be honest). The next morning, we chewed up the last few hours and motored towards Salisbury, North Carolina, and Catawba College, for the last date of the Dash For Dollars tour. We set up and did a "teaser" for the show in the student cafeterias, and then hung out and killed time for a couple of hours until showtime. We did the show, packed up the van, and headed for home, once again hitting horrible weather in West Virginia. It seemed that the high elevations were getting horrible snow, and then we'd come down a hill and everything was clear again. I drove until the Pennsylvania border and then pulled into a rest area for a couple hour's sleep.

By the time I woke up, it was daylight, and off we headed again. We stopped for gas at a Sheetz and grabbed some breakfast and dog-legged it the rest of the way home, pulling in at maybe 1 o'clock or so. But it didn't end there, because Ray's driveway was full of snow and we had to shovel a spot to stow the van. I don't know what energy I was tapping because I cleared the space out in what felt like about five minutes. I transferred all of my luggage into my waiting Camry and headed home. Pam and Harmony had gone out for some children's event, story time or some such thing, I can't really remember and to be honest, when she told me what it was, I was a zombie. I tried to sleep, but that wasn't happening. I laid in bed until the alarm rang, twitching with caffeine, Red Bull and coffee, and several dark cola drinks. I showered and dressed and headed to my evening engagement, two shows at a restaurant called Patti's Pantry.

Patti's Pantry is located on Dewey Avenue in Rochester, just minutes from where I grew up. I did two 50-minute shows to a mostly middle-aged group, and had a great time doing it. There was an added bonus as a few of my friends came out to see me; the first show, Jon "Lumpy" Dubner, his wife, and a couple of friends surprised me. Jon was a mainstay at Yuk Yuk's, the first full-time comedy club that Rochester ever had. He was always and continues to be a good friend and a person who is filled with the stuff that good karma is made out of. He took some pictures with his digital camera and posted and tagged them on Facebook and with apologies from the source material, they were pretty good.

Second show, my good friend Mark Block came out. Mark is a former co-worker of mine in the Great Lakes Entertainment productions of Joey and Maria's Comedy Wedding, Joey and Maria's 25Th Anniversary, and the Soapranos. He is also my tax preparer, and the first and only person who has ever invited me to Passover supper. We had a good time hanging out backstage, which was really just a smaller dining room away from the main dining room, and while I wished I could have spent more time with him, I was coasting on fumes after 10 days of running myself like a dog and had to get home. I was telling my wife how things went, when apparently I fell asleep in the middle of a sentence and woke up at 5 in the morning with my stage clothes still on and my glasses askew.

All day Sunday I felt like hell, bones aching, dry mouth from all the caffeine, and of course, hating the snow and the cold which feels like it will never end. I drifted in and out from the Super Bowl, not really caring to watch Pittsburgh outgun the Cardinals. It was like watching a schoolyard bully push around a kid with asthma, only in this story, the kid with asthma actually put up a decent fight towards the end. At the end of it all, my team won......THE E-STREET BAND.

Yesterday, the cycle ended as it began, Ray and I judged another week of the competition at The Comedy Club, and today, I finished compiling paperwork for my health insurance. I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but the big machine starts up again on Saturday, where I do two shows in Rochester at PeRe (it's a club) and then hit the road to Buena Vista University in Storm Lake, Iowa. More of the same, but in a different order this time.

I hope the weather's good.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Beautiful Day (U2)

2009-01-20T12:03:00.000-08:00

Happy Inauguration Day! It's a wonderful day, if for only the idea that power in our nation's government passes peaceably from one man's hands to another's without bloodshed. There are certainly a lot of countries in the world today that cannot make that boast.

Harmony was under the weather today, so we kept her out of school and watched the inauguration ceremony on television. She's only four years old, so much of the broadcast was lost on her, but years from now, I'm sure she'll be happy to announce that she watched the events unfold live.

I am officially sick to death of Winter. The cold weather never used to bother me, and as a matter of fact, I used to enjoy it, but lately travel has become difficult and the impact of the cold on my health and the health of my family has greatly undermined our quality of life.

On Friday the 9th, I was booked to perform a showcase in Grand Rapids, Michigan for the Smith Agency, and the agents who peddle my gameshow "Dash For Dollars" to colleges around the country. They wanted to see my regular standup act and what I bring to the table. The show was in a small bar/restaurant that was filled to capacity and this was despite a winter snowstorm gripping the state of Michigan. The next day, the plan was to drive home back to Rochester and enjoy the weekend with my family; no dice. The storm that was torturing Detroit was blowing snow up around the Port Huron, Michigan area, and put me at a standstill before I could cross over to Canada and cut across Ontario back to Upstate New York. I wound up at a small motor lodge in Port Huron thanks to my trusty TomTom GPS device that is able to locate hotels and points of interest. The going rate for hotels that night was around $115, and I just didn't feel like spending that kind of money. Instead, I found a motor lodge that was letting rooms go for only $35, although they were a little short on services.

For one, they had no wireless internet. For that matter, they had no phones, so I couldn't even dial up if I wanted to. The two rooms that were available, a double and a king suite, were the same price, so I told the desk clerk I would take the double. He said, "Would you like to see the room first?" I figured an offer like that wouldn't be tendered for no particular reason, so I took the key and headed over to room #7.

Room #7 was not better than I assumed it would be. The furniture was ramshackle at best, the bathroom a monument to neglect and a bad grout job. The deal-breaker, though, of this budget-conscious choice was the smell of the room. I could only describe it as thinking that the last renter was a man who couldn't stop peeing while he was cleaning a fish.

I returned to the desk and asked to see the king suite, and moments later, headed over to unit #4. Happily, the room didn't smell unpleasant; rather, there had been some sort of room deodorizer applied that made it smell kind of nice. The furniture wasn't any better and the bathroom was only slightly better, and I decided that this was what I was going to get for $35.
I checked in, drove down the road to a small mini-mart and grabbed some food and bottled water, and spent the rest of the evening watching football and movies on cable. The next morning, the roads were plowed and I headed east. The roads weren't entirely clear, but I had at least a fighting chance to get home in one piece. The day before, somewhere along the way between Lansing and Flint, Michigan, I avoided a 17-car pile-up created by slick roads and cars following each other without the proper space between them.

After a few days at home, the frigid, sub-zero weather set in. I was scheduled to perform at Immaculata University in Exton, Pennsylvania, the first morning of the worst of the cold snap. I picked up my comedy buddy Ray Salah and we headed south to the Philadelphia area, stopping on the New York State Thruway to replenish the window-wash fluid. An examination of the wipers also showed that they were not in the best repair, and a stop at Target rectified that. The college was a small one, with only around 850 students, but they had a good attendance at the evening show, and the drive back was relatively painless. Ray accompanied me to another gig last week, an engagement at the Dunkirk, NY Loyal Order of Moose, with Buffalo comedians Nick Siracuse and Blaine Kelly. At first, Ray was exceedingly grumpy, but after having the time to pal around with old comedy buddies, he loosened up and enjoyed the evening. On stage, I told some real-life stories of our adventures together, which were precipitated on Ray's distinct cackle being acknowledged from the stage by both Nick and Blaine earlier in the show. The crowd had "got to know" Ray only from what we had said about him on stage, and I felt that the groundwork was laid to tell the stories, which went over well. On the drive back home, which was snowy, dangerous and long, we laughed about how well the bits had gone, even though I'd never told those stories on stage before.

This week, it's a week-long engagement at the Funnybone in Huntington, West Virginia, and then a week of college shows, culminating in a Saturday show back in Rochester for my buddy, Danny Liberto. I'm happy to be busy, because at least it's keeping my mind off of how cold I am and how much I can't wait for winter to be over.

Stay warm and be good, and make sure that when you've driving, you give the car in front of you at least one delineation (car length) for every 10 miles of speed you're travelling.

Peace!

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Gettin' Better (Tesla)

2009-01-02T20:30:00.000-08:00

Friday, January 2, 2009-11:30 P.M.

Good evening, and welcome to the first Tetta blog of 2009. When last you left me, I was being discharged from the hospital after having a blood clot in my left leg treated.

The last few weeks, in addition to the holidays, have been about the work of healing up and getting better while still working to support my family. I had to miss the Smith Agency Christmas Party, which I was very much looking forward to, because it was just too long a drive to safely make. I wound up doing short jaunts to the Mountainview Inn in Greensburg, Pennsylvania and the Funny Farm in Gloversville, New York, to maintain some income and semblance of normality. I have to invest in some supportive hosiery for my legs to tolerate longer road trips...I'd heard of such garments, but never worn them or even to this date, seen them. That's on my list of "things to do" for this week."

I was aware of a big-ass snowstorm heading towards Western New York the day before the Greensburg date, and had made arrangements to drive down early, thus missing the storm, but couldn't take advantage of their offer to check into the hotel a day early because I had a mandatory blood-draw the next day. I'm on a blood thinner called Coumadin (generic equivalent Warfarin) and it's completely hit-or-miss when they prescribe the medication because everyone's blood is different and you can't just go by height and weight. Too weak a dose, and blood clots could reoccur. Too strong a dose, and your blood becomes thin enough that a small cut will keep bleeding until you die. They want to see a coagulation rate between 2 and 3. My previous draw had shown a level of 3.2, so I was told to back off the medication. As I drove through the storm on Friday morning, I was contacted and told my level had rocketed to 4.8, definitely going in the wrong direction, and was told to discontinue the medication and then pick up again in half-doses. I had gotten to the lab Friday morning when they opened at 9:00 A.M., gave them the blood they required and drove off into the storm.

The drive from Rochester to Buffalo and then southwest to the Pennsylvania border usually takes about two hours. On Friday, it took a full 4 1/2 hours to make the trip, and the trip was fraught with terror. Ice kept building up on my windshield, and I had to do that scam where you grab the windshield wiper out your driver's side window and thwap! it across the windshield to break off the ice. In doing so, I snagged a fingernail and tore it, and went nuts trying to find a pair of nail clippers (that I always have with me). I found them in my travel bag and gave myself an emergency manicure, and when I put everything back, I buried my cell phone and then went nuts, thinking it had fallen out of my pocket at the Kwik-Fill. When I finally arrived in Greensburg, I was tired, shaky, unshaven, but on time with two hours to spare. The weather in Greensburg when I arrived was 54 degrees and raining.

The gig was cool, and even though it was a small crowd. I worked with "Big Al" Goodwin, and we got along nicely, talking shop and finally putting a human being together with the headshot I'd seen on comedy club walls across the country. After the show, I had to move my room because the room they gave me had no heat, and even though it was a beautiful old historic hotel with amazing fixtures, it was just too cold to be comfortable. They were able to move me with no problems, and I spent the night, hoping the New York State Thruway would be cleared off the next morning.

On Saturday, I hit the road as early as possible, which was 10:30 after showering and packing. The drive was clear and the snow started falling again when I pulled into Rochester. I gassed up and got home, taking 45 minutes to change clothes and begin the drive to Gloversville, NY. On the way, I picked up Steve Natarelli, a Rochester area comic, and we headed to the Funny Farm. We got there about 40 minutes before showtime after speeding in the snow on the back roads of Wayne County and finally joining some of the holiday traffic on the Thruway. The show was sparsely attended due to a Christmas Party cancellation, but we had fun and the comics on the bill did their job. My middle act was John Briggs, a "smart" comic from the Capital District, and some of the other comics from the area hosted and did guest spots. I got Steve a spot and he did very well. When I hit the stage, I'd just let it fly based on being in the car all damn day, and it was fun and funny. Opener Jon Hausmann sent me the following letter:

Granted it's a sample of THREE appearances, but last night was easily your best night there, in spite of the single-digit audience. Maybe you should strive to be exhausted and disoriented ALL the time. Same was true of Briggs. I've now seen him so many times - he was 'ON' last night. Don't know why.

I emceed there last week - audience was about 80 people (including, surprise to me - my BOSS'S BOSS) - and they were DEAD. Not the comics' fault - they audience was just catatonic. The only reactions Headliner Greg Aidala was able to get from them was by swearing liberally at them. Seemed to work - didn't even need punch lines, just channel Redd Foxx and they laughed. Seemed like a DEF Comedy Jam show I watched once in which my wife and I looked at each other and said "What the hell are they LAUGHING at?".

Anyway- you did good last night, not that it matters to Sylvia, but at least you gave 100% to those that came. I liked your bit about "knocking on doors", although in Gloversville after 2 or 3 doors they'd probably run you right out of the trailer park. - Jon

I like the Funny Farm, but it seems every time I go there, it's a holiday, or Mother's Day, or some such crowd-killing circumstance. Maybe it's just the luck of the draw, but Sylvia and Rich are fine hosts, and it's a gig, so we run with it.

Christmas weekend, it was a triumphant return to Rochester and the new comedy club in Webster, NY called "The Comedy Club" (http://www.thecomedyclub.us/) and a feature spot with Rochester's own Joel Lindley. We had a very funny guy named Patrick Dodd do a spot on the Friday early show, and even though he's from Rochester (and brought about 50 friends and family members with him), I'd never seen him work as he got into comedy only after moving to Atlanta. He rocked the room, and it was a great show.

Saturday night, it was a "Comix Cafe reunion show" at the late show. It wasn't a true reunion because the club had quite a bit of turnover in the 10 years they were open, so it was mostly the new incarnation of the staff, many of which currently work at the Webster club. They were good 'n' hammered by showtime, and it caused a little disturbance in the showroom from their table talk, but it was nice to see a lot of the old faces again.

The rest of the week was sponsored by Danny Liberto of the Comedy Company, as I did a spot at his open mic at the Otter Lodge in Brighton, and then headlined his show at the Raddison hotel in Corning, NY the next evening with D-Lo Danny Brown in support. The open mic was packed, and I mean packed, and during the first comic's set (a guest spot by Rochester's own Sky Sands), local comic Billy T. Anglin and I hauled chairs out of the back room to accommodate the couple of dozen people who found themselves standing. It was a great audience to work in front of, and it was only the shear number of comics that caused some folks to have to leave early. The gig in Corning was fun, although it was less like comedy and more like work. Pamela made the 90-minute ride with me and upon entering the showroom, I knew it would be tough as the hotel had already put noisemakers on the tables (the ENEMY of New Year's Eve comedy shows)-anyone with any NYE savvy knows that you don't hand those out until after the show's over. I taped, but it was a highly distracted audience, and not a show that I would want to save. At one point, I addressed a table in the back that were talking to each other the way you'd talk to people at a rock concert; loud and with no consideration of the people around you. After asking them if there was a problem, quite a few table basically told them to shut the fuck up, and then I spent a few minutes berating the drunkest of the table. I'd worked the room for Danny before and always had a great time, but these folks were not focused in any way for comedy, so we just got the money and then enjoyed New Year's Eve. Danny and D-Low chose to head back to Rochester, and Pamela and I sought out a Denny's (the only food available that time of the night), and celebrated by over-tipping the waitress for pancakes and a club sandwich.

Today it was back to the business of maintaining my health, and an early-morning blood draw showed my blood with a coagulation rate of 2.6, pretty much perfect. I met with my doctor later in the day, and he was pleased with the results. He took me off of three of the medications I'm on, including Januvia, which was costing me around $260 a month. I'm happy to be out from under any medications, including that costly little fucker. I just have to keep doing what I'm doing in terms of diet, and step up my exercise, which shouldn't be all that hard, although my left foot still has some swelling and that's made me just a little tentative about taking up the treadmill again. I just have to be creative and figure out how to work some upper body into the mix so that I'm not depending on just my legs to help me work up a sweat. The tour begins again with a club appearance in Grand Rapids, Michigan next Friday, and then the college tour starts up again with a "Dash For Dollars" show in Pennsylvania, and then I picked up a week at the Funny Bone in Huntington, West Virginia, courtesy of my pal, Joel Lindley. See kids, it's all networking in this business.

So belated holiday greetings to anyone I might have missed this season, we got our Christmas cards out on the fly because of my stay in the hospital, and didn't mean to stand anyone up. The good news is that I'm still here, still strong, and looking forward to being around for a long time.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

P.S. Not bragging, but I just did the books for 2008, and I actually showed growth over 2007, and that's even with a drastically reduced income from the sale of souvenir merchandise. I guess I'm in show business for at least another year. Peace, y'all!

Hotel Illness (The Black Crowes)

2008-12-18T08:33:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 18, 2008-11:30 A.M.

What if you were about to die but didn't know it? Just didn't have a clue?

That's where I was last week, on Tuesday night. I was hanging out at Danny Liberto's open mic at the Otter Lodge and hanging around with friends, doing some comedy, having a whiskey and living my life. And I had a swollen foot.

It was no big deal. It didn't hurt. I'd had some leg problems going back to Halloween, but I was getting around. I thought it was fallen arches. I had fallen arches before, and you recover. You do the stretching exercises, put some arch supports in your shoes, and away you go.

I'm diabetic, so foot care is always right in the forefront. My wife said "You need to get that looked at." I needed to make an appointment to see my doctor anyway, as I had prescriptions that he didn't want to renew until he saw me again. I got one that very morning.

When I arrived, he looked at the foot, and after I described my month-long leg pain, he decided that I was in danger of having a blood clot. I was sent hustling over to the ultrasound department at Rochester General Hospital, where I was born 42 years ago, and the ultrasound showed that indeed, I had a blood clot in my left leg that was restricting blood flow and causing my left foot to swell.

Blood clots are tricky things, I've learned. They float up and down the leg, sometimes they get stuck, and sometimes they go right to the lungs and give you what's called a pulmonary embolism. That's a bad thing. The lungs actually protect clots from going to the brain, but sometimes they do, and that's called a stroke.

I was admitted immediately.

My wife joined me, and before I knew it, I was in a wheelchair and going through hospital admissions. The woman who checked me in, Luda, was an older lady and very nice. After talking for a while, she recognized me. She had come to a show at the Comix Cafe (my old home club) on a Sunday night, they sat in the front, and I picked on her husband. After looking at the photographs on her office wall, the whole night came back to me; it was a Sunday, they sat to the left of the stage, so my right looking out to the audience, and her husband had his chair turned away, which is why I gave him grief to begin with. I thought, "what are the odds?" Well, I was in my hometown, where I've worked steadily for ten years or more, so I guess the odds were pretty good.

I was wheeled into a room on the fourth floor, into the area they call 4200. I was in a shared room with another patient, a gentleman named Rick who was recovering from back surgery. Rick had a lot of visitors, and long story short, his daughter Lisa recognized my voice from behind the curtain that separated us as we had worked together in the research department of WCMF radio about 15 years ago. We laughed and caught up, and that was two episodes of being recognized in the short span of just an hour or two.

I was due to start treatment Wednesday night with an intravenous drip of a drug called Heparin, which is a blood thinner. The young lady, whose name escapes me, had to put the IV into my left arm, and apparently I have rhino skin or something, because she had a hell of a time getting the needle through my dermis, and then the vein kept "jumping" or "rolling" and she couldn't get the IV in.

I've never been good with medical procedures and I hate needles (I'd be the lousiest junkie ever...."Does heroin come in a pill?") and while the nurse dug and dug into my arm, I started going into traumatic shock. I know, because I've gone into shock before...the symptoms are basic. First, there's the feeling of nausea. Next, there's the cold sweat. Finally, shortness of breath takes over. The nurse removed the needle and they elevated my legs and instructed me to breathe. That's how worked-over I was, they had to remind me to breathe. If you have to be reminded to breath, some hellacious shit is happening to you.

Once I was back to normal, she tried again, and this attempt was far more successful. I ate dinner and sent my wife home with a list of some personal items I would need for my hospital stay; a book I'm reading ("Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman), a sudoku book, underwear (to help maintain some sense of modesty under the hospital's gowns, who are designed for no one's comfort or pleasure) and personal items. I chatted with Rick through the curtain, as he was on some sort of steroids and was having trouble falling asleep. I had my own problems; I'd never been hospitalized before, much less for a "deep vein thrombosis," and a description of it as "going in through the groin area" did nothing for my customer confidence. They brought me water in a Styrofoam cup, and after I drank the water, I nervously inscribed the cup with a ballpoint pen, writing down my wife and daughter's names, a quote from Winston Churchill's "we shall fight them in the fields, we shall defend our island" speech, song lyrics, and joke that I wrote for Mitch Hedberg that he died before he could consider using. I was scheduled for my procedure at 8:00 A.M., and drifted off to sleep around midnight.

The next morning, a barrage of nurses, doctors, food service workers and the like started invading the room, quashing any thoughts I had of sleeping in. They woke me at 7 A.M., an hour before my procedure. Well, like in show business, very little in the hospital starts on time. I went to the procedure about quarter to twelve, only shy of four hours later from the scheduled time. I didn't mind, because any delay of a needle in my groin was fine with me.

I was rolled down to the room where such procedures are done, and they flopped me onto an operating table, face down. I joked around with the team that was working on me, and to my surprise, they did not have to go into my groin, but rather, through the back of my knee and down near my ankle. I'm not going to pretend to be any sort of medical professional, but basically, the procedure was to blast the clot with anticoagulant and then soak the pieces with anticoagulant, hoping to dissolve them. Long story short, the procedure went so well, instead of sending me to intensive care for monitoring (the original plan), I was sent back to the recovery room in 4200. The only problem was that they had given away my bed. I wound up in a private room, where I spent the next four and half days.

Pamela came to visit me, bringing me all the things I would need for my stay, including my laptop. The hospital had wireless Internet (thank God) and daily newspaper delivery to the rooms on request. Honestly, it was like being in a hotel they way they took care of me. I met a great number of people, all who were exceptional in their care of me, including Kristina, Brandi, Robert, Julie, Jessica S., Mallory, Sarah and Alex. Everyone was amazing, and no one ever left my room without asking me if there was anything I needed or that they could get for me.

I sleep with a CPAP machine because I have sleep apnea, and someone from Respiratory Services showed up every day to make sure that things were working properly. Someone from Nutrition came and went over the daily menu with me, and explained to me that if there was something on the menu I didn't like, that I could call and get something switched around, and if I was still hungry, there was room service available until 8:00 P.M. I decided that their menu (customized to my diabetic profile) was nutritionally balanced enough that I didn't want to mess with it, and never took them up on their room service offer. Pam brought me some Combos pretzel snacks at my request, because the one rap on hospital food that I have is everything is very soft and there's no variation in texture. I guess if my client base had an average age somewhere between 65 and deceased, I'd slop out the creamed corn, too.

I was released on Tuesday afternoon after the Coumadin I was receiving hit the proper level, and I was excited to be going home. All day on Tuesday and Wednesday, I was weak as a kitten, my muscles protesting due to their inactivity for almost a week. I think I'll be back to full fighting strength this weekend, when I have two gigs close to home, but I had to cancel my Western Canada trip for January that I was very much looking forward to, because I have to go to a blood lab twice a week as they monitor my anticoagulants and make sure that the concentration is therapeutic enough to make a difference, but not so effective that I bleed to death when I nick myself shaving.

I have a feeling it's going to be a long, cold winter as I adjust to this new wrinkle in my health profile, but I'm glad to be alive and I've started catching up on lost time, putting up Christmas cards here at the apartment, fishing the small artificial tree down from the attic, and getting ready to enjoy the holiday season.

Thanks to everyone who checked in on me while I was languishing in the hospital, to everyone on my health care staff (don't forget to come and see me at the Comedy Club in Webster [www.thecomedyclub.us] on December 26th and 27th), and I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

White Christmas (Crash Test Dummies)

2008-12-08T13:04:00.001-08:00

Monday, December 8, 2008-4:00 P.M.

Wow, it feels like life is a little back to normal.

I'm home from visiting my mother in Florida, and the three days were just full of phone calls, doctor's appointments, trips to the hardware store, and a lot of love, helping my mother mend after her horrific car accident.

Frankly, the details of the accident were grim. The accident occurred at night, and she was struck by two separate vehicles, both on her driver's side door, the first spinning her around so the second could strike her again. I don't know the details, but as I understand it, both vehicles were going at least 55 mph (mom's Jeep Cherokee going much slower as it entered the highway), the impact gave her a concussion, knocked her wig off of her head, knocked her glasses off of her face, and she lost a lot of blood before being taken by helicopter to Orlando Regional Medical Center.

Today, she wears an arm sling to help relieve the pressure on her crushed clavicle (near the collarbone) and she features no other signs of being in an accident at all except for some stitches on the left side of her head, a few inches above the temple.

According to my sister, who had time to investigate the wrecked remains of the Jeep, the floor compartment on the driver's side of the vehicle was crushed to within eight inches in width, and yet Mom has no leg injuries.

My sister went immediately to Florida from her home in North Carolina to be with mom, and when she left, I arrived and stayed for a few days. My brother Christopher relieved me, and stayed until today, when my sister arrives and he'll go back to Syracuse. I'm on the next stay, whenever that may be.

We lost our father almost two years ago. I guess that fresh scar moved us all a little quicker to rush to Mom's side. I was just there a month ago, cooling my heels on a few days off from my college tour, and taking advantage of the rent-free guest room. We always have a good visit, and this was my third time visiting Mom this year. Having the gypsy job that I do offers me more flexibility to make such excursions, and now that I'm in my 40's, I treasure the time with family so much more than I used to when I was a young buck trying to make a name for myself, and now I'm just trying to make a buck, having discovered that my name has limited value.

Mom's name is Linda. But to a generation of comedians working in Rochester, she was always "Mom." When I started doing open mics at Yuk Yuk's in the Olde Rochesterville section of town, mom used to tag along, and to my horror, sit in the front row at open mic night. Then she would talk to every comic that addressed her from the stage, completely obliterating any credibility I would have as a performer. When you're a comic, you're supposed to be this hip, swinging smart-ass, not the guy who's mom is sitting in the front row! But the truth be told, I wasn't hip, I didn't swing, and I was more smart than smart-ass, which doesn't always translate to laughs. I protested, but Mom kept coming out to shows, until she was a staple, a household name among the comics. I just had to get used to it.

My mom loved comedy. For mother's day, I used to give my poor, tired father a break and take Mom to the Yuk Yuk's in Niagara Falls, a 90 minute drive, and we'd see the comedians there on a Sunday night. She loved those shows, and I enjoyed using my connections as a Yuk Yuk's comic to talk my way into the comps.

A bunch of us "new jacks" formed an improv troupe, The Inner Loop. We started doing improv comedy on our own night at Yuk Yuk's, by that time the club had gone independent and was named "Hiccup's." Mom didn't attend many of our shows, but sometimes accompanied us on out-of-town gigs (there weren't many of them) as her schedule allowed. We had posters made up to promote our shows, and after one show, we all autographed one of them and gave it to Mom, and she still has the thing, along with one of our group headshots....we changed personnel so many times, I can't tell you what version of the group it was, but the headshot is framed and sitting on her dresser.

The group has long since been scattered to the four winds (our one long-standing gig, the First Night celebration in Binghamton, NY passed us over this year, probably because they'd had us four years in a row and needed some variety) but they live forever at my mom's house, on the dresser and on the wall.

Well, as the situation would turn out, Mom has let some of her finances get away from her in the past couple of years, and my sister and brother and I have used much of the time with her to "untangle the Christmas lights." I wonder sometimes, if this non-fatal (yet scary, violent and jarring) car accident wasn't God intervening and saying to the three of us "your mother needs help, get down to Florida!" I believe in God and believe that when terrible things happen to people, they happen for a distinct reason. It's like the story of Lazarus in the Bible; Lazarus was sick and everyone called Jesus to go and help his friend, but Jesus dilly-dallied for a few days and when he got there, Lazarus was dead. Jesus then performed on of the miracles, raising Lazarus from the dead, as if to say "your request of me is so small; you ask me to heal the sick, when I am willing and able to raise the dead for you." Jesus let a terrible thing happen to reaffirm his love (and power) to the people that trusted him. I guess God could have just reached my brother and sister and I in a different way, but this car accident was his way of ringing the bell. It certainly got our attention, and we've all gone to visit and started the heavy lifting of getting mom back on track. (The story of Lazarus is in John 11:1-45 if you're interested in reading the story).

So, I made it back to Rochester in time to fulfill my weekend obligations, a Friday morning appointment and a Friday night show in Pennellville, NY with Steve Natarelli and Annette Lorenzo that was just smashing. We were working at Monirae's in Pennellville, which is just outside of Syracuse, NY. It was a bitter cold night, but we had a good crowd and they turned out to be a lively bunch. I was headlining and early in my set, addressed a heckler that wound up being the owner. I went deep into him, prompting one of the servers to ask me to stop talking about her parents having sex...the two servers were the owners' daughters, and that lead to a whole other line of comedy. I had a great time, sold a good number of souvenir CD's after the show, and look forward to my next booking with Danny Liberto and The Comedy Company (http://www.noclowns.com/), a New Year's Eve show in Corning, New York.

Saturday, I was the entertainment for a holiday office party for Hospitality Restaurant Group, the owners and operators of the Taco Bell/Pizza Hut/Kentucky Fried Chicken Restaurants in Upstate New York. I had a great time, even with a small sound system problem (the people in the back couldn't hear me) that was corrected by Johnny-on-the-spot DJ Steven Turner. I had requested a long, corded microphone because I do some bits with the microphone cord, but the room was set up the long way, so the cordless mic that Steven provided was more appropriate. I set them up with some "canned" material, and then went into the stuff they really liked....going through the audience and improvising material with them. Without going into too much detail, it was a great experience, the big boss seemed delighted. Anyhow, Steven was the guy who recommended me to the group in the first place, having seen me do my thing at another event, and turnabout is fair play, so if you're interested in a top-notch DJ, a real craftsman who doesn't just come in and spin tunes but someone who really controls the mood and tempo of an event, Steven Turner at Turner Music Productions is your guy. The website is http://www.tmpdj.com/ or call him at 585-663-3948. His website features audio samples of his work as well as an avalanche of testimonial letters from happy clients.

I took Sunday off to decompress and slept like I never slept before. My mother-in-law was watching my daughter and my wife was off at a craft show, so I was able to sleep into the afternoon. After being non-stop go for ten days, I needed the break. I resisted the temptation to watch the Buffalo Bills play their game in Toronto (that I *knew* they were going to lose) and instead, picked my daughter up and took her shopping and out to lunch and spent some good "daddy" time with her. I figure after being away from home so much, she deserved my undivided attention, and we had a good time. We even went to Taco Bell and had a nice lunch....Harmony's a sucker for the beans!

This week, it's a long week off to try and get the house back in order, and Saturday I'm working a Christmas party up in the North Country of New York...in the town of Massena, where I've played a few times before in my 20-year career. I don't know the name of the group or the showtime or any of the details because I'm waiting on the itinerary from the booker, but it's a full week away and I'm not gonna sweat it until Thursday....that leaves only one more business day to reasonably get in touch with the booker, who is also a comic, and they will probably be on the road and hard to reach after Thursday.

So in the meantime, it's drag out the tree, put up the garland, light the candles, do the dishes, all that good holiday stuff, and start getting into the spirit of the season!

Here's hoping that you don't have to be prodded by a catastrophe to visit your loved ones, or reach out and contact them. Cherish them while you have them, especially this time of year.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

A Quick One While He's Away (The Who)

2008-12-01T11:04:00.000-08:00

Monday, December 1, 2008-2:00 P.M.

Just a weekend wrap-up while the girls are gone.

I got home o.k. last night, even though it rain/snowed all the way home from Toronto. Border was an afterthought, the guard looked at my passport, asked me two questions and back home in New York I went. The exchange rate was terrible on Canadian money....on Wednesday, I cashed $50 U.S. and got $52.25 CDN for it. Last night, Sunday, I cashed $553 CDN and got a $440 U.S. and some change. I haven't done the math yet, but I think either the rate changed or duty-free had their way with me.

Great shows this week, even the last one. Absolute Comedy is extremely supportive of their loyal locals (don't perform at a stage too close to them, though, or it's off to the Gulag...). I met and/or shared the stage with some very funny people this week; Eric Clifford, Dan Bruzzi, Doug Brown, Curtis Blakely, Elaine (ED) Dandy, Brendan McKeigan, Ryan Maglonob, Perry Perlmutar, Dred Lee, and Steven Sharpe. We had decent attendance, although some shows they pulled the curtain to cordon off the back section, which made the room nice 'n' cozy. My favorite moment of the week-talking to two older ladies who were waiting for their salad, and then leaving the stage to go back to the kitchen to try and help. Just another example of thinking on the balls of my feet, which I love (although sometimes more than the audience does).

So now I have one day to prepare before I fly down to Florida. I've gone through my prescription of antibiotics so hopefully this upper respiratory infection that's been kicking my ass all month is a thing of the past. Then after a few days with Mom, it's fly back home and get to work again, one public show and one private show. This non-stop-go stuff is starting to catch up with me and I guess burnout is better than rust-out (the opposite of burnout....didn't know that, didja?) but I'd rather have a steady diet of just enough stress.

So cheers to all, and I'll write again soon.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Cold Metal-Iggy Pop

2008-11-29T15:03:00.000-08:00

Saturday, November 29, 2008-6:00 P.M.

I'm going to keep this blog short and you'll understand why after reading it. My mother was in a car accident on Tuesday night. I found out about it when I got home and checked my e-mail, and one of her friends from the gated community she lives in sent me a message with the phone number of the hospital she was taken to.

Long story short, it was a bad wreck. She was hit on the driver's side of her vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, while attempting to make a left hand turn. The impact spun her into the other lane, and she was hit again. She suffered a concussion, broken collarbone, and needed stitches on her head. The car was opened with the jaws of life and she was taken by helicopter from Leesburg, Florida to the Orlando Medical Center.

There's no reason she should be alive today, but she is. And all of this took place two days before Thanksgiving.

My sister scrapped her holiday plans and flew immediately down to Florida, and she'll be there until Tuesday of next week, and I'm going down Tuesday morning and staying until Thursday. I'd stay longer, but I have commitments in New York, so I'll be flying back home for the weekend, and then most probably returning the week after.

I'm performing in Toronto at Absolute Comedy, my first appearance here ever. I booked it specifically so that I could work a decent week somewhere, and Canada celebrates their Thanksgiving back in October, so it was a good move at the time. Unfortunately, now I'm away from my family in Rochester and worried sick about my mother. Besides the health issues involved, this accident is sure to take a financial toll on her, and that's really on my mind because I'm just barely making it and not in any shape to help her out if things get rough.

So here I am, in a beautiful city at a beautiful new club, trying to make a good first impression with the weight of the world on my shoulders and sick to my stomach about it.

I'm thankful my mother is alive. I'm thankful that I'm working, and can go spend time with her, if only for a few days. I'm thankful that my brother and sister are pitching in. I'm thankful that my wife understands what I'm going through and can continuously do without my time and attention, even though she has to do it all the time.

I keep telling myself that God doesn't hand us anything we can't handle, but lately the load's looking awfully cumbersome.

I'm not writing this to bring you down, dear reader. Believe me, I've struggled since Wednesday about writing at all, and if I did write, exactly what should I say? I thought about writing about anything else, but the indecision left me frozen, so I wrote nothing.

I have two shows tonight, and one tomorrow, and then I drive the three hours back home. I'll spend a day doing laundry and spending just a little time with my wife and daughter, and then Tuesday morning I'll fly to my mother's side. I don't know what I'll do while I'm down there, I guess I'll just do what's needed. My sister, who has the strength of Hercules for this sort of thing, has already laid plenty of groundwork, so I'm sure she'll have a list of things for me to do.

I've never felt weaker or less prepared in my life, and it's scaring the hell out of me.

I suppose I could have written anything else here, rather than show my vulnerability now, but for what purpose? So that you would think better of me?

I've always chosen honesty, to the point of bluntness, and let the chips fall where they may. I'm not going to change that now.

I'm off to go be funny now. Thank you for reading.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Thank You (Led Zeppelin)

2008-11-23T15:38:00.000-08:00

Sunday, November 23, 2008-6:30 P.M.

Back home after a week of work, and feeling guilty about blogging....isn't that funny? Blogging is the most self-indulgent thing you can do without hand lotion, and when you don't do it, you feel this guilt, as though there were droves of people hanging on your every post, and when you don't write anything for a long time, it's as though their lives stop because they don't know what you're doing or what's on your mind. Luckily, I harbor no misconceptions of my "fan base" or "readership" or whatever you want to call it. My guilt comes from my adoption of a regular blog as a clearinghouse for events as my life, as a document that my daughter can go back and read when she's older to understand what Daddy was doing when he went to work, and my inability to keep that task up with any regularity.

This week was a busy one, and performed in the throes of walking pneumonia, upper respiratory infection, or whatever the final diagnosis turned out to be. I was popping Mucinex, trying to stay phlegm-free, and certain I was infecting everyone around me. Monday, I set off for Niagara University in Niagara Falls, New York, with comedy buddy Ray Salah in tow. We made the 90 minute journey with little difficulty, and loaded in the "Dash For Dollars" gear into the student union. While leisurely setting up the props for the game show, Ray was fiddling with the sound system, and playing some pre-show music to set the ambiance. A group filed in and asked us if we would turn down the music, as they were doing some sort of poster presentation. We obliged, and the young lady continued to speak, as if we somehow hadn't fully acquiesced to their wishes. Come to find out, the group was under the impression that they had reserved the space for their event, and viewed us as interlopers, and as she went into her pitch to somehow get me to understand that I wasn't supposed to be there, I explained that I was an off-campus concern, basically a vendor, and that I was hired by Student Activities to be there, and that if there was a conflict, I was just the hired help and merely doing what I was instructed by the folks who contracted me to be there. She disappeared into the Student Activities office, and shortly after, her group hit the bricks.

Now, I'm not one to piss on campus activism. The poster presentation that the young lady (who as it turns out, was a member of the schools faculty) and her group had planned on displaying had something to do with peace in the Middle East. I'm all for peace in the Middle East, the Far East, the Near East, and even back here in North America. But I really question how effective the poster presentation would have been in bringing about peace. Were the warring factions represented here in New York? Were there enough members of the groups present in Niagara Falls to constitute a quorum? How many of them were on campus at Niagara University? And finally, how many of them would luck have to be present in the student union at lunchtime? I suppose the answer to these questions are moot, but in all fairness, if you want peace in the Middle East, I think the minimum requirement is that you actually go there to drum some of it up. I am a pragmatist, if I am nothing.

Tuesday, Ray and I made our way to Finger Lakes Community College, and a blizzard was gripping the Finger Lakes region of New York. We were driving the company vehicle, a Ford E150 van containing the Incredible Cash Cube, the centerpiece of the Dash For Dollars game show, which doesn't carry much weight as the cube is mostly air when it comes right down to it. Vehicles were colliding on the slick roads leading into Canandaigua, and we fish-tailed a couple of times on our way down, but remained on the road the whole time and arrived in a safe and timely fashion (two of the best ways to arrive, in my opinion). The show was in danger of not being very well attended until I decided to prime the pump a little bit, intruding into the student cafeteria adjacent to our performing space and throwing out dollar bills at random. In the business, we call this a "teaser," and even though no such event was scheduled, I decided that it would be a good idea. It paid off in spades, and by showtime, the event area was full of students ready and raring to compete for the money. One of the funniest moments of the show was when a game involved blowing up balloons, and one of the contestants was a young man with an assortment of piercing appliances in his lower lip. It was awkward, and led to some good comedic interplay, and he actually wound up passing that particular round and moving on in the competition.

Later that night, after returning to Rochester, Ray and I decided that with the snow that was hitting the southern part of New York, we ought to get into town early, as the next gig was in Olean, NY and they were getting their fair share of crappy weather. We took off and got into town early, slept over at the wonderful Hampton Inn (I am a whore for the Hampton Inn) and were only blocks away from Jamestown Community College, Olean Campus, the next morning. When I checked in, there was a poster on the front desk with my face on it, as I was scheduled to perform in town on Saturday doing my own standup comedy show. It was neat to check in and point to the poster and tell the desk clerk, "I'm checking in, that's me right there." JCC is a very small satellite campus, being only a cluster of four buildings in the downtown Olean area. We still had a good showing, and with the help of a diligent maintenance man who was willing to use his power tools to disassemble doors for us, we were able to roll the Incredible Cash Cube directly into our performance area instead of just putting it in the hallway, as the Student Activities Director informed us was done on the game show's last appearance at the school. I'm willing to do whatever a client wants to make them happy, but I am still a showman at heart, and I know that having the entire game show set in the performance area is a basic minimum to having a successful show. Again, the show went great, there was good attendance, and everyone had a good time. The drive back to Rochester was pleasant, with temperatures in the 50's, and no sign that snow had ever fallen in the area.

Thursday night, I was on my own, and I made my way to the State University of New York (SUNY) Canton. It was about a four hour trip, and I really dragged my feet as the grip of whatever illness I was harboring made me lazy, sluggish, and belabored my breathing. I made my report time with a few minutes to spare, and did a teaser in the dining hall where everyone was enjoying a buffet-style Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not going to lie and tell you that the glistening steam tables of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy and pumpkin pie didn't distract me at all. My antidote was to perform the teaser as quickly as possible, throw the money around, and get the hell out of there.

With the help of some student volunteers, I set up the show and got ready. I was met with a boisterous, crazy audience who went from highly involved and interested to absolutely volatile. I think if they could have just collectively picked me up, held me upside down and shook me until all the money came spilling out of my pockets, they would have. Large, athletic men were karate chopping young ladies out of the way to get a dollar. People were threatening my life and telling me in so many words that there was no way the cash cube and I were leaving campus with any money to show for it, and one young lady (who, by the way, was a contestant on stage who had her chance to win money, but was eliminated in one of the challenges) criticized me that I wasn't paying enough attention to her section, the far left-hand side of the stage. I throw money right-handed, so she may have had a point, but throwing money is completely to my discretion. I started having second thoughts about my populist views as I realized that the core of many people's psychological makeup is greed, and worse than that, a sense of entitlement. I finished the show and on the way home, I stopped at a Subway sandwich shop and had a spicy Italian sub that was in no way, shape or form as good as turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes.

Friday was my only day off, and I packed all of my errands into it. First off was trip to the doctor and a prescription for antibiotics to finally start fighting off my illness which had been a thorn in my flesh since before Halloween. Next, a trip to the post office and my local comic book shop, Comics Etc., to pick up a month's worth of reading material that I'd missed as I'd been out of town since before Halloween. I stopped by Monroe Community Hospital where Pammey was doing a craft show and swapped our cars, and then took her car in to be diagnosed as to why her sunroof was allowing not just sunlight but rainwater to come in. The prognosis, if you're curious, was bad lifters in the back of the unit and some body rust in the roof of the vehicle. We have an appointment in December to get the unit replaced, which will provide my wife and daughter with a nice, dry vehicle to drive around in (it's the least I could do). One last stop to my daughter's school to drop off a book order, and it was back home for a nice nap. Later that evening, Pamela and I toasted our eighth wedding anniversary with a nice dinner at Red Lobster, one of our favorites (don't laugh). My mother-in-law volunteered to watch Harmony so we could have some time together, and because we're old and tired, we figured the best thing to do was go out to dinner. Ah, how time makes fools of us all! Still, we had a good time and after dinner, went out winter-coat shopping for me as my leather jacket that I've been holding on to since Chuck Yeager passed it on to me was no longer in good repair. I picked out a nice, low-cost fleece lined number with a million pockets in it to store my cell phone, bluetooth (which I don't wear if I don't have to), wallet, chewing gum, chapstick and car keys. I wanted something cheap because I just know that one of these days, I'm going to be unloading the cash cube out of the van and a sharp metal corner is going to do a number on the jacket, and I'd rather it be a cheap coat than an expensive one.

Saturday, I slept in and finally started making my way to Olean. I got into town just as the sun was setting and the snow started coming down like a bitch. I got ready for the show, shaved and ironed my clothes and made my way to the Premiere Banquet Center where I was performing with Jamie Lissow and Bill Benden. It was a co-headliner show with me as the warm-up act, and it shook out that I only needed to do 15 minutes. Still under the weather with only one day's worth of antibiotics in my system, I gladly filled the short set with a "greatest hits" montage that went over well. I palled around with Bill and Jamie, talked shop, new babies, and all that stuff that standup comics talk about when we get together. After the show, Jamie opted to brave the snow and head back to Rochester. I opted to stay in the cushy Hampton Inn and beg a late checkout. By the time I left the hotel, the sun was shining, the roads were clear, and I got to hear the first quarter of the Buffalo Bills beating the stuffing out of the Kansas City Chiefs. I swear, after Monday night's dismal, last-second loss to the Cleveland Browns, I vowed that if Buffalo couldn't hand a 1-9 team their ass, I was through with them. Luckily, they delivered, and Trent Edwards ran for two touchdowns, which is making me like him again. Then again, Rob Johnson did that crap against Jacksonville a handful of seasons ago, and I started liking him and he turned into a total piece of shit. So let's just say I'm being cautiously optimistic.

This week, it's Absolute Comedy in Toronto, my first time at the club and I'm excited to be breaking new ground. Next month, there's a lot of work close to home, holidays to prepare for, and then in January, I head off for a month-long tour of Calgary, Edmonton, and other snow-tossed cities of Western Canada. I'm excited, but also happy that it's still a couple of months off....I'm going to have to get ready for one of the farthest away places that I've ever performed in before.

Best to you and yours this Thanksgiving holiday.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Play It All Night Long-Warren Zevon

2008-11-11T19:41:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, November 11, 2008-10:45 P.M.

Good evening from Raleigh, North Carolina.

I must be in a blue state, because I'm freezing my ass off.

That's not exactly true, but after spending two weeks in Florida and Alabama, the 15 degree drop in temperature is feeling absolutely chilly.

I have one more show tomorrow and then I'll start heading north to home, where I haven't been since before Halloween. I'll be hosting "Dash For Dollars," my college comedy game show, and even though I've only been on the job about six weeks, I'm starting to have the same withdrawal feelings I have when I don't get to do my own standup act for a long time.

The stage time has been really sparse this trip out. I did a show in Savannah, Georgia at Savannah State University, and then went to my mother's house in Florida to hang out for five days. I got sick somewhere along the way, and I've been sucking down the water and taking Mucinex to stop coughing and to try to bring up some of the congestion, and even though I have the symptoms under control, I need to get home and see a doctor for some antibiotics.

To top it off, I started having leg problems that I was able to diagnose as due to fallen arches, because I've had them before. I went out and got some inserts for my shoes to give some support, but the muscles still take time to relax back to normal. There are exercises you can do to relieve the tension, but with a great deal of driving, there's a greater than normal stress on the muscles of the foot and leg. I've been lucky that I've had stretches of time off to let myself just collapse and lay in bed in a hotel room rather than having to get up and go out and produce.

I worked at the Stardome Comedy Club in Birmingham, Alabama on Election Day, the following day, and the following Sunday, or what they call in the comedy business a "wrap-around;" they got a special headliner act (in this case, James Gregory, the "Funniest Man In America") and needed to fill the "off" nights that the big name guy didn't want to do. Cue your man Ralph. I'd been wanting to get into the Stardome for a long time, having heard great things about the club, and it definitely lives up to the hype. The place is huge, the seats were full every night I was there, and the crowds were appreciative. I sold out of my comedy CD's while I was there and was invited back. Nice day at the office, eh? I worked with Will Marfori on Tuesday and Wednesday, and Drew Thomas on Sunday. They're both really good comics and nice fellows that I'd met and worked with before, and that's always a bonus.

I had Thursday and Friday off to relax, and then Saturday I went and entertained a small group in Atlanta for a gentleman's 50th birthday party. I did a mild "roast" of the guy, who was a family man, Sunday School teacher, and just an overall good guy. His kids were there, as well as people from his church, so the humor had to be squeaky clean, and it was a challenge to write a roast that was totally clean for a guy I never met before. They were a nice group, though, and I did balloon animals for the kids. I'm serious, I had the balloons with me, so I did some for the kids. It was 190 miles one way to get to the gig from Birmingham, but after finding ridiculously cheap gasoline ($1.90!!! Thank you, Flying J loyalty card!) I still made money on the trip.

So I had too many days off, and one of my college shows got canceled this week, but I got to spend time with my mother, break in a new club, made an anniversary celebration special for someone, and got to watch the election returns come in thanks to lodging that didn't require me to be up and out at any certain time. Which reminds me....God bless Holiday Inn Express and the Holiday Inn Priority Club and their late check-out. There's nothing like lounging around in a room until 2:00 in the afternoon and not getting bitched at. Other hotels could learn from these people.....I'm talking to YOU, Days Inn.

So the only other thing to report is that I'm in love with Rachel Maddow. I'm not sure when it happened, but I've become quite taken with her. I know that some folks will say that she's not on our team, but that doesn't matter.....I'm married, it's not like I'm trying to recruit her. And when I tried to put my finger on exactly what it is about Rachel that I find attractive, I keep coming back to her intelligence. She's smart! She's REALLY smart! She's smart in a way that when she's speaking or interviewing a guest, I feel like I'm really following the conversation, even though I'm a guy who took four years at a community college to get a two-year degree.

But most importantly, other people seem taken with Rachel Maddow besides me. She seems to be the new "hot" commentator on TV, and I think it's because America is starting to value intelligence again. "Smart" is the new "cool."

President-Elect Obama is the gold standard for cool, and he really isn't. He's smart. I caught him answering some questions and he did an impression of Redd Foxx having a heart attack. In case you're very young or not familiar with the program through re-runs, Redd Foxx has a show called "Sanford and Son," and one of the running gags was that he would always pretend he was having a heart attack, and he would call up to the heavens, "Elizabeth, I'm coming to join you, honey!" Elizabeth was his predeceased wife. Well, when Obama did the impression, he said "Weezy, I'm coming!" Weezy was the wife from Sherman Helmseley's TV sitcom, "The Jeffersons," which came out about seven or eight years after "Sanford and Son." Only a guy who spent as much time as he did, studying and keeping his nose lodged in a book, would make that obvious pop culture error. On the David Letterman show, they had him deliver the line "Can you smell what Barack is cooking?" which was a satirical slant at the Rock's wrestling catch-phrase. But Obama doesn't know that either, because he doesn't watch wrestling. He pores over the minutiae of his work, takes time to work out at the gym, and strives, strives, strives. Sometimes I feel guilty that I never had the discipline to dig into the books that way, who knows what I'd be doing today. But there's one thing for sure, and that is that America is finally coming back around and saying "education is good." "Book smarts have value." I'm very happy about that. I'm tired of living in a dumbed-down country. Maybe we can finally ship Will Ferrell off to Alaska and get some decent character-driven film comedies made before I qualify for the freakin' senior citizen's discount.

Before I sign off, I'd like to acknowledge my good and trusted friend Steve Burr, the host of "3 Things You Never Talk About" (google it if you don't know) who challenged me to write something positive about someone I disagreed with from a policy standpoint. That may not be the exact challenge, but it was words to that effect, and it was several months ago and I'd been dwelling upon it, and somehow could not do it. Today, I'd like to change that.

In the transition period between President George W. Bush and President-Elect Barack Obama, I think President Bush has been phenomenal in expediting a swift and seamless transfer of power. I think that the comments he made about seeing Obama and his family on the stage and saying what a wonderful thing this was for America was gracious, patriotic, loving, and a showing of a side of Bush that we haven't seen enough of.

In truth, President Bush has to be looked upon as an individual who has offered incredible opportunities to people of color. The appointments of Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice to the office of Secretary of State were groundbreaking, and his trusting of Alberto Gonzalez as Attorney General must be recognized. After all this consideration, I frame the President as a man who really thought he was doing the best he could for America, and made hard decisions, no matter how unpopular they were. Now, I can't speak for Dick Cheney, who I'm sure a lot of people suspect was the real evil behind the Bush administration, but I won't question Bush anymore as regards to the flippant statements made by Kanye West after Hurricane Katrina that "President Bush hates black people." I believe, no, he doesn't, and as a matter of fact, he's probably their greatest cheerleader. Now, whether or not he surrounded himself with cronies as a way to insulate himself from dissent, I would have to take exception with, but I believe that actions speak louder than words, and his actions in this transition have shown that he is the warm human being that I never would have given him the credit for being.

I guess we all have our good and bad points, you just have to take the time to inventory them.

Tomorrow, it's off to St. Augustine's College in Raleigh, North Carolina, and then Thursday, the trail of tears back to snowy Upstate New York. I can't wait!

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Changes (David Bowie)

2008-11-05T21:39:00.001-08:00

"It's no sin to make a mistake. The sin is when you don't go back and clean it up."

I spoke those words to my brother 23 years ago. He was about to fail his senior year in high school because of a missing phys-ed credit. Long story short, he would oversleep because of his job and then wouldn't go to school because of a mandatory detention policy for late arrivals, which would interfere with his after-school job, so some days he just didn't go. Consequently, he wasn't present enough days to get the gym credit, and was looking at the prospect of being held back a year.

I told him to take summer school. They don't offer summer school for phys-ed.

But I told him the line above, about cleaning up our mistakes, and he went back to school and worked out a plan with them. The school let him put time in at the YMCA, and after enough hours to satisfy them, they would award him his diploma, which he did over the summer.

He made the mistake, and then cleaned it up.

Tuesday night, America cleaned up it's mistakes.

In electing Barack Obama the 44th President of the United States, America said "we are ready to fix things."

We are ready to fully anoint African-Americans, not just with cheap, smiling words, but with a real vote of confidence.

We are ready to turn the wheels of government over to individuals who are knowledgeable, who have studied law, who bring real credentials to the table and are ready to govern.

We are ready to offer the rest of the world the assurance that the country which they all look up to and aspire to be, is ready to stop being a bully and ready to start being a trusted ally again.

As much as I support Barack Obama, it is with much shame that I confess that I found many more reasons to vote against his opponent than I found reasons to support him.

From the beginning, the McCain campaign seemed to be waged for all the wrong reasons.

First of all, why was a wealthy, 72-year-old man with 13 cars and eight houses working so hard to apply for a job? Shouldn't he have been contemplating retirement? I'll tell you why he did it; he got boned by Karl Rove and George W. Bush in South Carolina in 2000, and he's been lying in stealth for eight years waiting for his turn, the turn he felt he was cheated out of. I'm sure the eight years weren't easy, but he spent five years in a P.O.W. camp, so I have no doubts about his tenacity.

But that's the wrong reason to want to be President. Bob Dole ran on that bullshit back in 1996, and Bill Clinton slapped him around.

The Sarah Palin pick as VP? I never saw a campaign shoot itself in the foot more deftly since Al Gore thought it would be a good idea to run a Jewish veep (Joe Lieberman) past the deeply Christian voters of the South (and elsewhere....the 13 states of the Confederacy don't have any monopoly on anti-Semitism). The race for the presidency isn't "Take Your Daughter To Work Day." It would be hard to argue that even a featherweight like J. Danforth Quayle wasn't less qualified than the Governor of Alaska. Could the McCain campaign have been saved by a more savvy pick? Absolutely. He could have chosen one of a plethora of rising young stars on the right, or even an old saw like Elizabeth Dole who was a skillful politician until the voters of North Carolina started to wake up and smell the bullshit. Bobby Jindall could have brought some youth and excitement, Mitt Romney would have brought all of his economically conservative supporters, but McCain had to find someone who would whet the Evangelical's whistle after he basically told them to lick his asshole back in 2000. And snake-charming, speaking in tongues Sarah was that gal. It's too bad that the hypocrisy started piling up faster than the lines on her resume; from Troopergate, to the grandchild being born out of wedlock, to the high-end shopping spree, Caribou Barbie went to just plain old "boo" Barbie.

Finally, the campaign of smear and mud that never seemed to end, was just a bad choice. McCain flung the kitchen sink at Obama, but Barack never responded. It is virtually impossible to win a fight with an enemy that will not engage you. McCain would go into a red-faced rant about Jeremiah Wright, William Ayers, Socialism, spread the wealth, Joe the Plumber, and so on, and Barack would just smile and shake his head. Like all he had to say was "During the Charles Keating affair, you were the only one with money on the table" and the game is over. But he didn't go there. Obama told the truth, about McCain's lock-step with George W. Bush and the smoldering ruin that he's leaving America. And the American people responded with a hearty "fuck THAT plan."

Well, the smart parts of America did. A glance at the electoral map shows that there are still pockets of resistance to liberals, black people, educated people, or whatever part of voting for Obama you want to isolate. Maybe some folks liked McCain simply based on his military record. If that's the case, John Kerry with his superior military record should have handed W. his National-Guard-but-never-showed-up ass. Maybe some folks voted for McCain simply based on the conservative position on abortion. Fair, but here's a position on abortion I think a lot of people haven't considered, and it happens to be MY position......if two water-heads couldn't figure out a condom in the back seat of Dad's car on prom night, I DON'T WANT THEM RAISING CHILDREN!

Whatever malady is affecting the folks in the South and that strip of states from Texas to North Dakota (fuck you, I've driven through all of them, so I'll name 'em.....Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota and North Dakota....and I did that WITHOUT a map in front of me), whatever the malady is, the good news is that the smart people of America are going to put people and programs in position to help EVERYONE out of the mess that this country has become. EVERYONE. Everyone is going to be a beneficiary of good, smart government that won't allow the economy to tank, won't allow us to squander money we don't have and young people's lives we'd rather keep in futile wars abroad, won't allow an American city to eat Hurricane Dick and wait around four days to do something about it. And I'm talking to you, Louisiana. How much self-loathing do you have to ever vote Republican again? After George Bush left you swimming in your own shit without lifting a finger? If I lived in New Orleans, I'd rather have a finger cut off than vote Republican.

A criticism of the Democratic party by some commentator on the right was that "They always run a lawyer for President. It's never a common person."

Here's a thought. If I'm going to send someone to Washington, the home of national law and government in this country, maybe I'd like to send someone who has STUDIED LAW AND GOVERNMENT. If I want surgery done, I don't bring in a guy who lays carpet, I call a surgeon. If I want my clogged toilet fixed, I don't bring in a guy who grooms poodles, I call a plumber. And If I want economic advice, I call an economist NOT A FUCKING PLUMBER.

This is how frustrated I've become. My candidate won, and I'm still pissed. Still pissed that the election wasn't a clear-cut landslide, like Reagan-Mondale back in 1984, because there are still pockets of folks in our country who still don't get it. But it's O.K. Because folks like me stepped up and did the right thing, folks like them will get universal health care, decent wages for jobs, a country that is released from the grip of foreign oil, better social standing in the world, and the residual positivity of some racial healing.

And by the way, the flip-side of that racial healing thing is that the bar has been WAY lifted for black folk in America. The old arguments about inequalities and access to opportunity just won't hold anymore. Obama grew up without his father, worked his ass off, and became President of the Harvard Law Review (no small achievement), United States Senator, and now President of the United States. I want to hear "Yes We Can" echoing through the black community for the rest of my life. There's really no reason that I shouldn't hear it, anyway. We've come too far to turn back now.

So I applaud a post-racial America, an America that no longer considers intellectualism to be a bad thing, an America that's ready to build on that bridge to the 21st century that Bill Clinton built and George W. Bush burned. I'm girding myself for the hounding attacks that will surely come from the Right, now that they have a villain to coalesce around. Rush, Hannity, O'Reilly and the rest have four years of material ready to go, and if they try to tear down Obama like they did Bill Clinton, it won't surprise me at all. The only exception being that if they try that shit with Obama, his wife Michelle will be WAY more likely than Hillary to kick off her heels, take her jewelry off, and start kicking a little ass.

In real life, and to be serious to close this up, I have a bi-racial family. My wife is of mixed heritage, and based on our backgrounds, my daughter is Italian, African-American, Isle of St. Croix, and German. She goes to a school that is mostly minority (oxymoron?) and even though she is aware of the difference in races, she perceives no difference in the races, other than the color of their skin. And she's four. And none of her classmates think anything of it, either. Can it be that children are smarter than the voters of Alabama? And white Americans over the age of 65? I'm in Birmingham, Alabama right now, and I know damn well, somewhere in the city today, some cracker asshole made a joke about the huge Obama headline in the paper this morning and everyone getting excited because a black man got a job. And it still galls the piss out of me.

Those racial wounds are old and deep. But they're scabbing up. And one day, they'll dry up and fall off.

God Bless America.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

did anyone catch why I used a David Bowie song?

Jesus Was A Democrat (Everclear)

2008-10-24T20:45:00.000-07:00

Saturday, October 25, 2008-12:30 A.M.

I'm home on a Friday night, and off, thank God. I'm worn out, under the weather, and tired.

I took off for another long road trip on Wednesday, October 15th, working a few comedy clubs and a couple of college gigs in an 8-day stretch with two days off. I took the van that is now my rolling office, loaded up with the Incredible Cash Cube, the star of the game show "Dash For Dollars," of which I am now the host.

I got the old war wagon up and running for the trip, heading to Jiffy Lube to get her an oil change (I literally had no idea when the oil had been changed last, so better safe than sorry) and then went to the gurus at Best Buy to have my satellite radio installed. My good buddy, Ricky K., managed to find a satellite radio unit, unopened, in the original bubble pack, at a thrift store down in Florida, and hooked me up like a fat rat. After the boys at Best Buy hooked that baby up, I was free to enjoy hundreds of channels while I drove, even though I only worked about four of them in regular rotation.

The trip to Blacksburg, Virginia, took a little longer than usual, what with me tooling around in a Ford E150 van and not having the same mobility as scooting around in a Toyota Camry. Still, the miles melted away as I enjoyed the news, talk and commentary on Air America, CNN, and other news outlets. I also indulged in a channel called Boneyard, which focuses on radio friendly 80's metal, which is what I grew up with.

Upon arriving in Blacksburg, I got myself washed up, shaved and ironed a shirt and made my way to Attitudes Bar, in the Holiday Inn. Outside, enjoying a smoke, was my old friend Paul Hooper, a talented comic out of Charlotte, North Carolina whom I toured with in the past. Paul had the reputation of being quite a hell raiser back in the day, but these days, he's rockin' the Red Bull but passing on the Jager, and his act hasn't suffered for it at all. He keeps the punchlines coming like a machine gun, unapologetic and non-stop, and he's a great act to watch. I also didn't suck, but Paul earned his headliner money that night.

The next day, I decided to drive right to Greensboro and check in to the hotel a day early. The hotel gave me the same rate the Comedy Zone was getting, and I set up shop, ironing shirts for the weekend, writing, and doing all of the stuff I do when I'm on the road. I tried to exercise, but the treadmill in the exercise room wasn't working, so I had to settle for walking around in the stadium neighborhood of Greensboro.

At the Comedy Zone, I shared the bill with local host and legend Chris Wiles and headliner James Sibley, both comics I had worked with before and enjoyed their company. I got booed the first show Saturday when I entreated the audience to use their democratic right to vote, and they got it mixed up and thought I was saying "vote Democratic," and they booed and hissed me. I told them to go fuck themselves; actually, I apologized like a little bitch and changed the subject. By the end of the weekend, I was saying whatever the hell I wanted to say and doing fine with it, and I don't know what it is about that room, but I like it and I keep going back.

Sunday, I checked out of the hotel late so I could watch "Real Time with Bill Maher" on HBO, and then headed to the laundromat up the road to wash my clothes. I enjoyed the Buffalo Bills game (vs. San Diego) on one of the Sirius stations (they merged with XM and I chose the package that would offer the NFL games) and the Bills won. It was great actually being able to catch the game even though I was miles away from any TV or radio station that would have carried that game. The soup Du jour was the Carolina Panthers, and they won, too, so "Go Cats!"

I drove to Fayetteville and literally missed the part of the game where Buffalo ran out the clock to seal the win, because I had to stop for gas. I managed to find it for $2.79, which was a lot better than in Fayetteville proper, where gas prices spiked to over three bucks. The grand champion of gas this week was in Virginia, where I saw a station offering it for $2.59 after I had just filled up at $2.69. At least the gas is going down, and I can't decide if that's because demand has gone down, or the oil companies realize that no one can afford it anymore.

Fayetteville was fun, but I miss the old mc, Steve. Steve took his own life a while ago, and I miss not only his dry wit, but the easy, mellow way that he warmed up the crowd. The new guy (I forget his name) comes right out of the box bashing Republicans, which is probably not a smart thing to do in a town populated predominately by military folk, their families, and folks who give them aid and comfort. Somehow, I did better in Fayetteville on Sunday than I did in Greensboro on Friday, which has my brain in a twist.

Monday I headed back west across North Carolina to the Charlotte suburb of Belmont, home of Belmont Abbey College and Starz Tavern, home of the late Belmont Comedy Zone. I checked in to the Hampton Inn, my new favorite hotel (they put us up at one in Fayetteville, as well), got cleaned up and made my way to the school to do the "teaser," a cafeteria event where I threw dollar bills and t-shirts into the audience and got them hyped for the evening show.

The show was great, with a full room and lots of folks who were hot to compete and win the money. After the show, I made my way back to the Hampton Inn and completely unraveled. I do a lot of what I call "running, jumping and dancing" in the show, the kind of thing I would do in the old Joey and Maria's Italian Comedy Wedding Shows I used to do, to get the crowd fired up. The downside is that the next day, my legs feel like the legs of an almost 42-year-old man who's been running around for an hour and a half.

I squeezed them for the late checkout and headed back across the state eastward to Henderson, North Carolina. It was a day off, so I dragged my feet, and somewhere between Charlotte and Greensboro, I heard a weird noise coming from the rear passenger side of the van, and started losing speed. Sure as shit, the tire was coming apart at the seams. And not just going flat, but coming apart like you see tractor trailer tires eating it as they speed down the road.

Luckily, no one was near me, so I headed off the ramp and got up onto the shoulder, and started making phone calls. Triple A was my first call, and they got someone out very quickly. Then I called the office to let them know what was going on, then checked in with my wife. I was carrying a full-sized spare, but had no jack to lift the van, and I probably wouldn't have tried it anyway, except in an emergency. The tow truck driver showed up with one of those heavy-duty floor jacks, and got the tire changed quickly and with little problem. The funny thing was that another car had experience some trouble as I was pulling off to the right, he was pulling off to the left with smoke billowing out from under his hood. The police and fire department came and got him squared away, and I didn't even see them move his car until just after my flat was changed.

The luck kept coming. The tow truck driver mentioned to me that there was a tire place right off the exit I had left the expressway on, so I motored on up and bought a new spare. I left them the rim with the shredded remains of the tire, and went to lunch and found a bank to get some cash. When I arrived back, the work was done, I settled up and headed on my way.

I got into Henderson and didn't have a specific hotel to check into, the college was supplying me with a lodging stipend. I decided to dig into my own pocket and stay somewhere nice, and there was a Hampton Inn within just a few miles of the school, Vance-Granville Community College. I got settled in, and went to Wal-Mart to get a hair cut. I had to wait about 40 minutes, but it felt good to just sit in a chair and not have to talk, drive or do anything. I had a mop of hair on my head that needed serious attention, and at Belmont Abbey, I had blow-dried it instead of my usual mousse-and-comb-back, and I felt like I looked like a game show host, but a parody of one. It was just too much hair.

The next morning, I checked out of the hotel and headed to VGCC. There was construction on the I-85, I got turned around, and wound up arriving 25 minutes late for my 10:00 A.M. check-in. The school is so new, my GPS doesn't even know it's there, and that was a problem. Plus, when I called, the person at the switchboard decided that County House Road and Community House Road sounded good enough that she could just give me either and I'd be fine. The late arrival didn't affect me as I still had 90 minutes to set up for the show. I worked quickly, setting up the props, backdrop, cash cube, and putting duct-tape lines on the floor that I would use during the games.

It was a great show with great competitors, and I had to introduce a tie-breaker game about three times during the course of the show. The winner was a young lady who managed to pull not just the $100 bill out of the cash cube, but one of the $50's. She wound up getting $179!

After the show, I was covered in sweat. The van was parked by a back loading dock so I did a quick change of clothes and used some new load tie-downs to secure the cube in the van. I hit the road around 2:30, and rolled into Rochester just before 1 A.M. I've got a few days off to get myself back together, and leave Tuesday for a swing through Georgia, Alabama, North Carolina and Virginia. I still have quite a few days off, so I'll probably visit my mother in Florida. I'll be home for my birthday, and then have a cluster of dates the week before Thanksgiving in Upstate New York, and then Thanksgiving week, I'll be in Toronto. It's a new ballgame now, juggling club dates with college dates and still trying to get home every once in a while. Today, Harmony had a school play and Pam and I went out and got a little digital video camera to catch the event on film. I'm glad I didn't miss it, but I was tired as hell this morning and the constant non-stop go has weakened some of my defenses to the common cold and such. I'm achy and listless, and sleeping an awful lot. I have a lot of work to do around the house, as well as still having to come up with some plan to retrieve my car from Grand Rapids, Michigan where it's languishing in a parking lot. I'd like to have it back before Thanksgiving week because there's no way I'm taking the van into Canada; it's not registered to me, there is a large piece of not-readily-identifiable hardware strapped down in the back, the whole thing just sounds like a personalized invitation to a battery of body cavity searches.

Not without dinner and a movie, you don't.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Don't Stop Believin'

2008-10-10T23:19:00.001-07:00

Saturday, October 11, 2008
3:45 A.M.

It's nice to be home again. I've been out in the midwest for the last ten days, training for a new job. I'm not leaving standup comedy; I'm just taking a different path.

Anyone who's talked to me know that I've been increasingly disenchanted with the standup comedy life. There's too much driving, too much time away from home, too much adversity, bad crowds, clubs dying, and not enough upside when the paycheck comes. Gas prices have been kicking the ass of traveling entertainers for years now, and wages have been stagnant.

I started doing comedy when I was in college, which was between 1987 and 1991. I was active in student activities at that time, and the two meshed together well; I was on the campus radio station (closed circuit, but an audience none the less) and hosted comedy shows on campus. I started a coffeehouse series called "Club Wednesday," and we brought big-name touring college acts on campus to do one-hour shows at noon. I remember handing thousand-dollar checks to guys like Nick DiPaolo and John Joseph, who had just won Star Search that year. And because we block-booked our talent, I knew that these guys had six or seven more shows in a ten day period, and that seemed like really good money. It was one of the reasons that I ran away from home to join the circus, thinking that fast cash and easy money were at the end of the standup comedy rainbow.

Well, long story short, standup comedy has been fun, and I'll love it until I die, but it's a lot easier to go out on the road and starve when you don't have a family waiting back home. If it were just me, I'd be sleeping on sofas, being a "road whore" and getting by on the kindness of strangers, working from check-to-check in a gypsy existence and dying on the road.

Ever since the price of gas got ridiculous, I've felt the pressure of needing to make a decision about comedy; it's not paying the bills anymore, becoming increasingly frustrating to do, and robbing me of a good portion of my time with my family. I'd even gone so far as to pick up applications for different retail stores in my area, as I worked in retail (and enjoyed it) before I made the decision many years ago to go back to college.

I hadn't gone and made any rash decisions until my wife had mentioned that she talked to our friend Stephano, a comic from Wisconsin (now living in Las Vegas). Stephano was working for a college comedy game show, and making some decent money, and he mentioned to her that the agency was looking for another guy. He passed along the number and said I should give him a call.

Now, I initially looked at this opportunity the same way that a jungle cat looks at meat in a trap. I'm hungry, but don't completely trust what I'm about to get into.

But I've got a wife and a beautiful little girl at home who are depending on me to make good decisions, so finally, after dragging my feet, I pick up the phone.

I spoke with Bill Smith from the Smith Agency in Grand Rapids, Michigan and basically submitted my resume over the phone. He must have liked what he heard, because he started pitching the show to me and let me know what it was all about. I used my improv skills to speak with Bill, letting him know that I had experience and that I was familiar with the market. He mentioned that they pitched a line of inflatables, so I mentioned that I had experience with Sumo Wrestling suits and hosting the show at various bar clients.

After a few weeks of preparation, I was scheduled to come out to Michigan to train for the show. Smith brought in Sean Carlin, one of the other comics who hosts a third game show for the Smith Agency. Sean and I hit it off well, and my training began for the game show.

Basically, it's a live show hosted on college campuses called "Dash For Dollars." We have live contestants in a game show format, and the students have to work their way through a series of challenges, and the grand champion gets to go into the cash cube, a money booth where the money flies through the air, and they can keep as much as they can grab in 30 seconds.

I trained for about three days with Sean, doing run-throughs and discussing all of the possible glitches, situations, strategies and contingencies that I could experience. After the fourth day, a collection of workers and family members from the Smith Agency gathered in their warehouse to watch me go through an actual running of "Dash For Dollars." Bill bought pizza for the crew, and we set it up like an actual show, using his sound equipment in the warehouse left over from his rock 'n' roll days. The show went well, and I was on my way.

I spent Sunday preparing mentally, going over the notes, technical documents for the cash cube, the internal paperwork for the Smith Agency, and bonding with Sean and asking him all of the questions I could possibly think of. On Monday, we loaded up a van with the cash cube and all of the props, and made our way to Aquinas College in Grand Rapids.

We had a "teaser" scheduled a few hours before showtime, where we would go through the student cafeteria and tell the students about the show happening later that night, passing out money and t-shirts and getting their excitement level up. We had a mix-up with the hotel situation, finally figuring out that we were scheduled to be at the Comfort Inn, and I got showered and dressed and prepared for my first public show.

Sean and I were accompanied by a guy named Ryan, one of the technicians at the Smith Agency. The agency does a series of other shows for colleges, including temporary tattoos, funny t-shirts, and the like, and Ryan operates some of the shows. He came along for moral support, and to be our "roadie," and he came in quite handy. We got to the college two hours before our 10:00 P.M. showtime, and the student activities folks greeted us with a nice pre-show meal (Jimmy John's submarine sandwich platters and soft drinks). I remember providing hospitality when I brought artists on campus, and the practice hasn't changed. I ate quietly while Sean chatted with the student activities people, taking notice of what he had to say and what the students were responding to.

As the time ticked down to showtime, I got on the mike and started warming up the crowd. Several agents from the Smith Agency showed up to see me work in front of an actual college crowd, and Bill even came out for a little while.

The first show went well, with only a few notes from Sean, and the students seemed to enjoy the show a lot. I tossed out money and t-shirts, and ran the students through the games, while Sean ran the musical soundtrack from the d.j. booth. It was a lot of running and shouting, but a lot of fun. The next day, I was a little sore from all the physical activity, but we got a late checkout from the hotel so I had the opportunity to sleep in a little.

The next show was at Olivet College in Olivet, Michigan. Sean followed me and hung out only as an observer, and I loaded in the show using student volunteers and set it up and ran it myself. It went really well and was well attended, and afterwards, the Student Activities director took us out and bought us Subway sandwiches for our post-show meal. Sean and I ate and talked and then parted company, he followed me to the expressway and then headed east towards Upstate New York, and I went back to the hotel.

I had only a short time to sleep before heading off towards South Suburban College in South Holland, Illinois, just south of Chicago. It rained heavily all the way there, but the van held steady on the road, and I didn't have much trouble negotiating it even though it was the biggest vehicle I've driven since piloting the Bronco on the George Carlin tour, and that was over a decade ago. Still, old habits die hard, and soon I was one with the vehicle, making turns and navigating around parked cars with that big boat like I'd been doing it forever.

The one thing that was troublesome was the cash cube. Imagine a plexiglass telephone booth with no telephone in it, and a window-style air conditioner anchored at the bottom. The cube has a rolling dolly welded to the back of it, and the unit slides into the back of the van on the wheels. They had sandbags to chock the wheels to keep it from sliding around, but they shift during transit and at one point, I stopped for a vehicle making a right-on-red, and the cube slammed into the back of my seat, giving me a nice little punch in the back.

I anchored the cube as best I could, using the full-sized spare tire as a buffer between my seat and the cube, laying it down so the rolling cube wouldn't hit my chair again. I drove through the rain to Chicago, and just five blocks from the school, disaster struck. I was waiting at a red light, and when the light turned green, I gave the gas pedal a little push, and as the van lurched forward, the cube rolled back, and one of the metal edges caught one of the back windows just right and shattered it into a thousand pieces. I was 45 minutes early for my check in time, and I had to move fast. I also had to find a place to change money into small bills to put into the cash cube for the show.

I stopped at a supermarket and used the bathroom. Their ATM was out of order, so I headed to a bank around the corner. I used the bank's ATM, paying the $2 fee, and took the money to a teller who happily broke the bills for me.

Next stop was Walgreen's. I purchased a small broom 'n' dustpan, parked the van in the back of the parking lot near a garbage can, and started cleaning up the mess. Once I got most of the glass taken care of, I whipped out my roll of duct tape (which I bought for just such an emergency) and butchered the cardboard from a mostly empty box of t-shirts and started closing the hole. After the hole was properly covered, I made my way to the college with 15 mintues to spare.

I chatted with the student activities director at South Suburban, getting a feel for the demographic makeup of the student body while I set up the show. The cube was too big to fit through any of the doors, but the back of the theater I was performing in had a big roll-up door, so we brought it in that way. I had the show set up quickly and had about 45 minutes to breathe and relax before showtime. The show went great, and believe me, it's hard for it not to go great when you're handing out cash and t-shirts like Santa Claus. The winning student, a big dude named Eric who I had picked on earlier in the show, only fished out $56 from the cash cube, so I looked in my pocket and saw a fifty, a five and a one. Fifty-six dollars. I doubled the prize money and looked like the biggest super hero there ever was! It was a great feeling, and all I could think of was "Wow, they're actually paying me to do this!"

After the show, it was off to the hotel where the college graciously lodged me in a king business suite, complete with fridge, microwave and comped wireless internet. I relaxed for only a few minutes before scanning the yellow pages to look for an auto glass shop that could take care of my situation. I was performing at a school on the north side of Chicago the following day, so I made an appointment for the mobile unit to meet me there. They needed a four-hour window of time to work on the glass, and between the check-in and the end of the show, I would be at Oakton Community College for four hours, so it seemed perfect.

I headed out, grabbed dinner and hit a bank to replenish my cash supply for the next show. I wanted to have all of my ducks in a row before taking off the next morning, so I used the time in the hotel room to reset all of my props and have the most time available to work with the glass technician if need be.

I took off extra early for Oakton, knowing that morning rush hour traffic in Chicago would be relentless. It was only a 45-minute drive, but I allowed double the time and still only got there 20 minutes early. I was met immediately by the glass company's mobile unit, and he repaired my windown in 20 minutes. It was literally a picture-perfect situation!

I loaded in the show to the student cafeteria, and after a few glitches with the college's sound system, started the show. The show went great, and the students really seemed to need the money because they were mobbing me as I threw singles into the crowd. The grand champion, a petit young lady named Mary Kitt, also pulled a small amount of money like the winner the day before. I reached in my pocket and added cash to her stack, and the crowd went nuts!

I actually had clipped the college's sound system with the music and lapel microphone they gave me to use, because I was trying to drive a full cafeteria with music and I'm loud to begin with. Still, I ran around, jumped up on chairs, mugged for the audience, threw money around, and before I knew it, I realized I was channeling Mike Ruiz.

Mike Ruiz is one of my good, good friends, and I met him while performing in the Joey and Maria's Italian Comedy Wedding Show years back. Mike is a good comic and actor, and a natural mc for the show. I have literally done hundreds of shows with Mike in all manner of rooms, from small banquet halls to huge convention centers, and even the big room at Turning Stone Casino in Upstate New York. Mike has a wonderful rapport with an audience, and uses his natural likeability to move them, and I obviously absorbed some of his technique, because there it was, in the Oakton Community College Student Life Center, bubbling out of me like hot marinara out of a calzone. It worked so well that I must publicly thank you Mike, for teaching me even if you didn't realize that you were teaching me.

After the show, I hit the trail of tears back home to Rochester, and after losing an hour in the time transition from Chicago back to east coast time, I rolled into Rochester around 3 A.M. I now have the Smith Agency van sitting in my driveway and my car is back in Grand Rapids sitting in the parking lot and as soon as I can figure out how to retrieve it, I'm heading back there. I slept in as long as Harmony would let me, and later in the afternoon, I got a call from Bill Smith mentioning that my report cards from the schools were good, and that I was "in the van," meaning I'm hired and installed as the newest host for "Dash For Dollars."

I still have comedy club dates on the books; I'm going to Blacksburg, Virginia, Greensboro, North Carolina and Fayetteville, North Carolina this week, and then I have a Monday night show the day after. The great thing about this game show is that they generally get booked during the week, leaving my weekends available for club work. Plus, they're all over the country, which means the routing is actually going to help me expand my territory. And the money is good enough that I'm actually going to be able to stay in the game, and I've got a company full of agents repping me, and now all I have to do is worry about getting to the dates and performing. I'm also going to try and get my improv troupe to work more frequently, but I have to tackle things a little bit at a time. I have books to write, CD's to record, and so many projects I can't count them. I've been recharged by this opportunity, and I'm excited to see where it's going to head. One of the best by-products is that I'm home for a weekend, and it doesn't mean I was unemployed this week. I feel like I should pinch myself to make sure I'm awake.

I've always said that the key to this business was tenacity. I just never thought that I would have to prove it to myself. I went from being ready to take a job stocking shelves at a supermarket to being the host of one of the longest-running college shows in the country. I feel like Kurt Warner must have after Super Bowl XXXIV.

Don't Stop Believin', indeed.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Sexual Healing

2008-09-29T23:45:00.000-07:00

Sexual Healing 4963

Tuesday, September 30, 2008-1:00 A.M.

I said "Fuck The Troops" on stage Saturday night and got a round of applause.

Here's how it happened; I was performing at the Cedar House in Skaneatles, New York with fellow comics Danny "D-Low" Brown and Joe Fico. At a point in my headlining set, I begin talking about politics. I preface the political material in my show by urging everyone to vote in November, because it sickens me that voter apathy has subjected us to lousy leadership in this country for much of the last 40 years (in other words, my lifetime). I mention that American fighting men and women lost their lives defending our right to vote, and if you stayed home on Election Day, you were basically saying "Fuck The Troops." The crowd of about 120 clapped and cheered.

Now, staying home on Election Day is NOT saying "Fuck The Troops." The right to vote is also the right to abstain. But I thought it would be a fun exercise to see if I could say what is possibly the most inflammatory statement you could say to a group of strangers (in a small, and from what I could gather, conservative town) and get away with it.

Joe had done some political material earlier in the show, and it was clear from their response that I was in a very red part of New York (a very blue state). Getting them to clap for me saying "fuck the troops" was all the more sweeter, because it proved that in the right context, with the right wording and inflection, you can get social conservatives to clap for almost anything.

Now, I mention all of this not to give myself a smug pat-on-the-back, but to set up the next thing, which is a question from the mailbag. The question comes from Ricky K. of Englewood, Florida, and he's not exactly a stranger; he's been one of my best friends for almost 20 years.

Ricky writes; "I'd like to see you write in your blog about Sara Palin and how she is quickly becoming another Dan Quayle and late night fodder for Dave, Jay and Saturday Night Live. I'd like to see your take on this."

Well, Ricky, I'd be glad to oblige.

The state of politics in this country has become so fragmented and divided that we'll likely never come together as a nation again. The infighting based on whether or not an individual is a Democrat or a Republican has gotten so ugly, it's made many of us feel like foreigners in our own country. The current state of the economy (disastrous) is a perfect microcosm of what we've become....a bunch of sorry finger-pointers who would rather assign blame (and therefore, shame) than roll up our sleeves and work together in a bucket brigade to put the fire out. This fragmentation was designed by Republicans, to pit us against each other and seize the power that by rights, should be held by Democrats as champions of the middle class, the largest class in this country (and by that I mean outnumbering both the "rich" and the "poor").

Now, as a Liberal, I must defend the Democrats as being more correct-not "totally" correct, but more correct, than Republicans in any given circumstance. Republicans are given to hyperbole, such as tearing down actors who give their political opinions as "Hollywood elitists," even though you never hear that tag given to Ronald Reagan or Arnold Schwarzenegger, ie: Hollywood elitists that they agree with. They are masters of double-speak, and will sell you as much bullshit as you are willing to buy.

And even the base of the Republican party is suspect; Republicans were always the party of the monied few, while the Democrats favored the working class; hence, the union support of Democratic candidates. The simple truth is that as more and more wealth is hoarded by the top one percent in this country, the Republican party needed to shore up their numbers (there are certainly not enough wealthy people left to win an election for a Republican candidate), and they did it by reaching out to evangelical Christians; ie: "Social Conservatives." The plot here seems to be that if you are an economic Conservative, you justtake a stance that abortions are wrong, flag burning is wrong, and gay marriage is an abomination, and you count those votes right into office. Politicians will say anything to get elected, sure, but this one is so easy an idiot could do it.

Calm down, I'm not up to Governor Palin yet.

You never hear anyone talk about "economic Liberals," do you? It's usually just social Liberals, because Liberals don't follow the money like Conservatives do. The general stance is that Republicans care about money, and Democrats care about people. Liberals are forced to deal with money in the form of taxation because they need that money to implement social programs which are designed (wait for it) to take care of people. Republicans want smaller government, smaller taxes, less governmental regulation and intrusion in business, and basically allow each individual's chips to fall where they may, which is a very cavalier attitude to take when you've already got plenty of money. Universal health care isn't very important to you if you're healthy and wealthy. Which begs the question, why isn't there universal health care in this country? Because we've only had two terms of Democratic leadership in the White House in the last 28 years, and that particular president (Clinton) had to deal with a Republican Congress that basically told him to shove universal health care up his blow hole (talking about health care and President Clinton actually makes the song "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye come to mind, and I'm sure there's a good joke in there somewhere, but I got the punchline and can't figure out the setup). Another reason that Republicans shoot down universal health care is that dead people can't collect Social Security. If health care was available and people lived long, healthy lives, they'd be collecting Social Security up the wazoo, and George W. Bush and his cronies have already raided that fund and spent the money. Finally, universal health care would destroy a whole industry, the health insurance industry, and the pharmaceutical lobby won't sit back and watch their product get "price fixed" by a bunch of anti-profit Socialists. It's all in the money, baby. If the uninsured (yes, I'm one of them, thank you) could get some Political Action Committee money together to lobby Congress, we would. But if we had that money, we wouldn't need to lobby Congress, we could just go buy our own damn medication.

I had a very interesting conversation with a guy after a show in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania last month about universal health care. This individual was ex-Army, and worked for the government in a civilian capacity. His argument against universal health care (after damning the newly minted Democratic VP choice of Joe Biden as a "Socialist" [the new bad word for "Liberal"]) was that the same long lines and poor service that we recieve at the Department of Motor Vehicles would be the same that we would receive under socialized medicine. Although at first blush, I would say as an unisured person that if I could vault over high medical bills by standing in line, I would find the time to do that, but I reject this logic because people at the Department of Motor Vehicles are bureaucrats who are issuing licenses, collecting money and handing out plates. Folks who work in medicine do so because they are healers, wishing to help people and take oaths to do so. I'm not saying that the billing and records aspect of hospitals and clinics would be less rigmarole than they are now, but actually, yes they would, because there wouldn't have to be any billing to speak of, it would just be maintenance of health records. So yes, I disagree in that respect.

So we've got a hornswoggled populace who are getting shoved around, manipulated by Republicans who beat the socially conservative drum, lining up all the simps who care way too much about the abortion issue, gay marriage and gun rights (and the sad truth is that overturning Roe v. Wade wouldn't abolish abortion, it would just revert the ruling on the issue back to the states, so you'd have really, really, really conservative states like South Dakota and Alabama saying "no" to abortion, then Becky Sue would have to take a long bus ride to the next abortion-allowing state to get her procedure done, or Billy Ray would have to do a back alley coat hanger job on her or face raising a little bastard for 18 years) and marching Conservative politicians into office to the detriment of their fiscal health and welfare. For the most part, social conservatives are not of monetary substance to afford the fiscal policies of the Conservative Right. It would be much more to their advantage to vote with the Left, but the thought of allowing gays to marry and live together (even though this would fall under the allowance of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness...remember that from History class?) makes most social conservatives (the real ones, not the ones pretending they are to curry favor and get votes) vomit. And I mean, those that weren't in the airport bathroom already, playing footsy under the bathroom stall with another guy.

But neither do Liberals vote their wallets....Sean Penn and Barbara Streisand have plenty of money, and vote with a party that would most likely tax them handily, but they do so because they understand that to whom much is given, much is expected (that's from the Bible, in case you don't recognize it). And while the teachings of Jesus Christ almost always smack of Socialism, only a few people (and it's usually artists, people who spend time examining the human condition) that understand the natural beauty in helping one another. And they do it because it's the right way to act.

So that, in an overly-simplified explanation, is why I am a Liberal. Now on to Governor Palin.

By now, I'm sure you've heard a lot about the good Governor and her fine work up there in Alaska, and had quite a few opportunities to size her up for yourself and decide if she is indeed a good choice for Senator McCain as a running mate.

From the beginning, when Senator McCain emerged victorious over a weak Republican field to garner the nomination of the party, most Conservatives were beside themselves. I remember listening to Rush Limbaugh and hearing how much of a disaster this was for the party (he's seemed to have come around as of late) and all I could think of was that the George W. Bush campaign painted McCain as the worst possible choice in the world back in 2000, and now he's the next coming of Ronald Reagan. Remember when Karl Rove got a bunch of volunteers on the phone in South Carolina back in 2000 and asked people "Would it make you want to vote for Senator McCain less if you found out that he fathered a black child out of wedlock?" And the truth was that he handn't, the truth was that he and his wife, Cindy, had adopted a black child and McCain had to hide the child lest people think the rumor was true, and many folks in South Carolina didn't vote for him over George W. Bush based on that lie alone. When McCain was named the eventual Republican nominee this year, many folks on the right were very disappointed, hoping for a Mike Huckabee or Mitt Romney (Giuliani never had a chance) and in the absence of those candidates, McCain was like a bitter medicine and the choice of Sarah Palin as a running mate was quite the thumb in the eye to Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee, or any of the other rich, white men who were supposed to be in line for that job.

The initial response was that Palin was an answer to disenfranchised Hillary Clinton supporters who were upset that Barack Obama didn't choose her as his running mate and the Republicans decided to give them a female that they could vote for and make the medicine go down easier. But Hillary Clinton's supporters weren't supporting her because she was a female, they were supporting her because she stood for the things they wanted their elected officials to stand for; health care, help for working families, relief from the high cost of living, a woman's right to choose, equality in the workplace for women and other Liberal ideas. Palin is a pro-life (unless you're a moose, I guess), pro-gun Conservative who shares few if any of Clinton's views, other than that a woman can and should compete for one of the two highest offices in the land.

It is to Governor Palin's eternal misfortune that she has a talented Doppelganger in the form of Tina Fey, formerly of Saturday Night Live and now of 30 Rock on NBC. Fey has lampooned the Governor twice in the last two weeks on SNL, and this last go-around, she didn't even have to memorize funny written dialogue. In a sketch featuring Amy Pohler as Katie Couric and spoofing a recent interview Governor Palin did with her, Fey merely delivered the lines Governor Palin did when questioned on her foreign party credentials. The disjointed response generated gales of laughter without much comic exaggeration, and THAT, my friends, is quite unfortunate indeed. It is far unfortunate for us as a nation that this situation has been allowed to happen, that a woman who appears to be, while strong, STUNNINGLY unqualified for the position of Vice President, has, in fact, been offered by one of the two major political parties as fit for that office.

Dan Quayle, for those of you that remember him, was chosen by the elder President Bush to show some balance on the ticket by featuring one of the young rising stars of the Republican party. Quayle was a senator from Indiana, and was famously skewered for his correction of a student who spelled "potato" correctly, insisting that the word actually featured an "e" at the end. Quayle had several other gaffes as well, but none more memorable than that one.

Sarah Palin hasn't even ascended to office yet, and she's already barfed up quite a few doozies for the late night comedians to work with. There's a photo making the rounds on the internet of her in an American flag bikini, holding an automatic rifle, but it's actually Palin's head photoshopped on to another woman in that pose (please don't believe stuff you read on the internet.....there's also no money waiting for you in Nigeria from your dead uncle you didn't know you had).

The choice of Palin is bad, and probably not McCain's, although he definitely has a history of reckless behavior. McCain has a damaged reputation among evangelicals (leftover from his 2000 presidential bid in which he basically told the religious right to go fuck themselves) and the Palin pick seems like an attempt to assuage them. Whether or not there are women dumb enough to follow the logic that if they can't vote for Hillary Clinton, they can vote for McCain and get Palin into the White House as the first female to hold the veep job, remains to be seen. I can't imagine that Clinton supporters are that obtuse, although she has strong support in the Appalachian states, and those folks aren't exactly world-famous for their "book lurnin'."

Any politician that McCain chose as his running mate was sure to be eviscerated by the late night comics, Letterman, Leno, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert and others. The sad truth is that Palin is such a bad choice, her jokes write themselves, and now even Republicans are dog-piling on and calling for her removal from the ticket. And this is two months away from the election!

But let's face it, the ghost of Abraham Lincoln could descend from heaven and he'd lose the presidential election in a landslide. The blue states wouldn't vote for him because he's a Republican. The South wouldn't vote for him because he's from Illinois. And the evangelicals wouldn't vote for him because they'd see his beard and think he was Amish.

Our only hope as a nation is to happen along a charismatic leader who can unite us, make us all proud to be one country again, like Reagan did after the financial crisis of the recession during Jimmy Carter's presidency. We were on the ropes as a nation back in 1979, with hostages in Iran, gas shortages that only allowed you to buy fuel on odd or even days depending on your license plate, and a withering sense of national pride. Reagan, although flawed, was able to bring us all together for a time. Who will do that for us now? We can pin our hopes on an egotistical bastard who's running for President to correct the screwing he got from Bush eight years ago, and tolerate his angry, caustic style and hope that he unites our country and improves the value of a dollar to most of what it used to be, or we can try the other guy, who seems popular and magnetic, speaks softly, and doesn't care to approve "attack ads" or sling the mud. I shudder to think that a group of people who can be lead by me, a standup comic doing his act in a bowling alley, to applaud the phrase "Fuck The Troops," can be lead to think that John McCain and Sarah Palin are a good choice to be Captain and First Mate on this Titanic that the United States of America has become.

You do what you want to, I think the choice is clear.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

Wherever I May Roam

2008-09-22T22:34:00.000-07:00

Wherever I May Roam 4920

Tuesday, September 23, 2008-12:30 A.M.

After quite the layoff from strenuous road work, I returned to the long black ribbon this week with two 2-day tours of the Midwest. Wednesday and Thursday, I worked for the Kewadin Casinos of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with the witty and rough-edged Bill Bushart, and Friday and Saturday, I appeared at a new club in Peoria, Illinois called Lenny's Comedy Cafe with the very funny John Bush.

I took off Wednesday morning and drove the 10 hours without a blink. The only hang-up was forgetting that the Zilwaukee bridge (yes, there is such a place) is out, prompting a detour that confounded my GPS device. Also, I hung my left arm out the car window and got a pretty pronounced sunburn. The arm actually said "Ahem. I am sun burnt." Also, on the way to the club, just after the Mackinac bridge (say "MACK-en-aw and sound like you're from there), I saw two guys in a white pickup truck lose control of their vehicle on dry pavement and go four-wheeling up an embankment. I always feel like that shit is bad luck omens, but things turned out o.k.

I met Bill Bushart for the first time after having known him for years and done every "MySpace, Facebook" buddy thing you could possibly do without ever meeting face-to-face. He had never performed at the Kewadin Casinos before, so I was his Ishmael, letting him know what to expect, what he could get away with on stage, etc. He barely needed my counsel as he had a great show both nights, in St. Ignace and again in Sault Ste. Marie. Bill works "rough," which is how I describe my own comedy, so it was a good "themed" show instead of just "here's a comic" and then "here's another."

After various engagements at the Kewadin casinos, I've found them to be gracious hosts, picking up meal tabs for the duration of my stay. I would estimate that I gambled enough in the slot machines to pay for the food I consumed, although in my younger days, they never would have gotten the best of me. You just can't eat salad fast enough to catch up to the "Deal or No Deal" machines. Thank God the casino was buying my food, or it would have been "Meal or No Meal."

Thursday night was great in the Sault (say it "Soo" and sound like you're from there) as I expected the normal rowdy, young, hard-drinkin' folks, and was pleased to find that a large number of older folks had made the scene. I felt kinda bad because Bill and I were no Red Skelton and Shecky Greene, but Grams and Gramps hung out, I think only a few decided that it was too much and walked early.

Friday morning I had to pick 'em up early and get heading out to Peoria, Illinois, home of Lenny's Comedy Cafe and famously known (by me, anyway) as the historical hometown of Richard Pryor, probably one of the five funniest standup comedians ever. It was a 700 mile trip, crossing Michigan in it's entirety, a small chunk of Indiana, Chicago in the afternoon, and a good chunk of Illinois farmland. Even though I gained an hour by crossing into the Central Time Zone, I busted my ass to get there, checked in to the hotel and only had enough time to get a one-hour nap, just enough to freshen up. Needless to say, when you put all that effort into getting to a gig, expect the worst. Well, the beautiful weather translated into a Summertime attitude by the denizens of Peoria, and they all decided to go frolicking outdoors rather than come inside and play with us. The show canceled, and I went back to the hotel to sleep a sleep that you only get inside a silk-lined casket. Of course, the day was doomed from the start; a cop pulled me over less than a minute after leaving the casino's parking lot...I guess I was testing that "25 MPH" speed limit they use around there. He was good enough to let me go with a warning as I pointed out to him that I had JUST left the casino andwas heading to the expressway, and that my car was covered with early morning condensation to prove that I hadn't been at the wheel long. Actually, I was as polite and respectful as I've ever been to a law enforcement agent; when he asked me "Do you have any idea why I pulled you over?" I restrained the urge to say, "Yeah, you saw the New York plates and the Obama '08 sticker on my car and decided to be an asshole?"

Saturday was better, although premium weather still deflated our cause. We had two shows with audiences that made up for in quality what they lacked in quantity. Tammy and Roger were great hosts, and Butch made delicious home recipe, Southern-style barbecue sandwiches for us. John was not familiar with the southern version of barbecue sauce, which uses a vinegar rather than a tomato base, and it was absolutely top notch. We turned in our sets and then returned to the hotel where I immediately started packing and split to make it back to Rochester. There's a new comedy club in Rochester called.....wait for it.....The Comedy Club (say it CALM-uh-dee club and sound like you're from there), (www.thecomedyclub.us) and I was invited to perform on their "soft opening" show. For the uninformed, that's an invitation-only, family-and-friends show that you put on to see if your wait staff is properly trained and can function at the level that you need to do business. I was booked and shared the stage with Matt Grippo, Joe Bruno, Jamie Lissow and Joel Lindley, as well as Rochester's own Brother Wease, who did some introductions up front and is involved with the running of the club. The show was hosted by Michael Gately, the morning show host on Rochester's 100.5 The Drive, and a fellow I'd had the pleasure of sharing the stage with in the past. I hadn't seen Wease in a while, and I went to shake his hand and knocked his cell phone out of his hand and on to the floor.

So I left Peoria around 1 A.M., which was really 2 A.M., because I was heading back east. I drove until 6 A.M., which got me into Indiana and past Chicago, and I got a two-hour nap at a rest stop somewhere between South Bend and the Ohio border. At 8 A.M., I loaded up on Red Bull and hit the road again. I got into radio range of Buffalo to hear a good part of the Buffalo Bills' game against the Oakland Raiders, and just as Rian Lindell was kicking the game-winning field goal, I was pulling into my driveway. I loaded out my luggage, got about an hour of sleep, and headed to the club (notice a pattern here at all?).

Well, I was happy with my set, which was a prairie fire with no rhyme or reason, just stringing together ten minute's worth of some of my best loved material, but the folks ate it up, so I was happy. And I'm sure a lot of folks will be interested to hear my review of the new club that Rochester will be frequenting for their ha-ha's.

Basically, I think the place is great. From a decorative standpoint, the club is very nice, and even though it's in a country bar (called Daisy Dukes) it doesn't look red-necky at all. If anything, there's enough woodwork to make the place look really upscale. Also, the club features the return of the famous brick wall for a stage, which hearkens back to the days when standup was performed in coffee houses and rathskellers, which almost always had brick walls (hence the tradition). Betcha didn't know that, huh?

There's an actual green room, which is small but functional, with access to the back service bar. There's only room for about four people to hang out, and two would have to stand, but the whole purpose of the green room is to have some privacy and get away from the crowd, so I would have to give it an "A" in that regard.

The sound system needed a little fine-tuning, as opener Matt Grippo played an electric ukelele (no shit) and at times, was a little difficult to hear. The lighting and stage were good, and the seating, while sterile and "prison mess-hall" style, was uncrowded and comfortable. And I guess the folks seated in the outside rows are just going to have to turn their seats and deal with the fact that the place to rest their drink is behind them.

One extremely classy touch that I thought was nice was the specialty drink menu which paid homage to comedians who had passed on and listed their birth-to-death dates under their names. John Belushi, George Carlin, Gilda Radner, Rodney Dangerfield, Sam Kinison and others were represented with signature cocktails, and to honor them that way shows a real deference to the art of comedy, and as a comedian, I was impressed. A lot of clubs have menus with cute comedy names for their food and beverage, but this was the first time I saw a list of exclusively departed talents and their date of passage included. Bravo, I say.

The club has enlisted quite a few veterans of the old club to come in and turn the wheels, and I think that's a good thing. The problems at the old club seemed to all be a product of the organization and cash-flow issues, and that doesn't seem to be a problem at this new venue. I performed for a nominal amount, and was presented with standard independent contractor paperwork, which is correct and how it should be....by the book. This will be no "fast and loose with the cash" enterprise, because the principals know that those are the holes that sunk the last boat. Some of the new faces (read; attractive wait staff) seemed a little vacuous; pretty, but in for a rude awakening the first time the place is sold out and the vikings want their mead. Whether you have serving experience or not, the comedy club is a totally different animal; there's no time to be standing around waiting to be told what to do, you have to bang those heels out to the showroom floor and rescue your customers from suckin' ice. A show only lasts 90 minutes, sell those drinks!

The club isn't overly large, seating at around 200, which will prevent that "empty room" look when holidays and warm weather keep the folks away. It's outside of the city, in the town of Webster, but it's on the main drag and shouldn't have any problems being found by even the most far-flung westsiders who can easily jump on 490 and make the show if they give themselves half an hour (at the most).

So best of luck to Mark Ippolito and Joe Tantillo and their staff, I know they'll do a great job of representing comedy in Rochester, and a hearty thank you from me for including me in the opening day festivities. I feel like the President being asked to throw out the first pitch on opening day, except instead of one-hopping it to the plate, I felt like I got to strike out the first three batters. Even draggin' ass from no sleep and a cross-country death drive, there's nothing like taking the stage in front of a hot audience.

Ralph Tetta
Rochester, NY

An American Prayer

2008-09-02T01:10:00.000-07:00

An American Prayer 4776

Tuesday, September 2, 2008-3:26 A.M.

I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore. That was a famous line from the movie "Network" which dealt with the power of the TV news, and this was back in the days before cable and sattelite television and the internet, when there were only a few voices being broadcast across the nation.

Now it's 2008, and with a Presidential election breathing down our collective neck, and the neck of the rest of the world, for that matter, the angry voices are echoing all across the cableverse, the internet, the opinion pages of newspapers and across the dinner tables and bars everywhere I go.

I want to raise my voice up to the heavens and cry "Shut up! For God's sake, shut up! You're tearing our country apart!" But I don't scream, because I could never be heard over the constant static. Trying to stop our fellow countrymen from continuing the divisive and angry speech is as fruitless as screaming at a crying child, hoping to compete for volume and stun it into silence. It just doesn't work that way.

We're one Democratic National Convention down and one Republican National Convention to go, and the players are in place. The unorthodox choice of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin has caused a swell of enthusiasim in the discussion of politics, either to praise her selection or as red meat for the naysayers. Sadly, there's enough gasoline to go around to keep both fires burning.

And isn't that the problem? The lack of civil discourse in politcs is cut almost entirely whole cloth from the dilemma that we all, as Americans, want what's best for America, but disagree on how to best get that done.

We begin to discuss the issues, with the intended spirit of debate, rooted in Parliamentary procedure for such discussions. And we try to win the other side over with facts and figures, supposition and commentary, hypothesis and examination, until our point is made.

Except for the fact that both sides have valid arguments.

Well, then, the next step is to start shouting, and then the name-calling comes in. It's called an ad-hominem argument, from the Latin, literally, "to the man,"and basically consists of attacking the debater; you're an asshole, so your argument is false.

Do we deserve that in a Democratic society? Where every man's vote counts, every man has the right to form an opinion, educated or not, and vote accordingly?

For an example of the fiery rhetoric that has replaced civil discourse in this country, take a gander at what the comedians are squawking about over at www.roadcomics.com and choose a thread with more than ten replies. Those are the threads that are political in nature, and the fur is flying.

Now, you'd think that comedians are all in the same boat, but that's not the case. We have a tendency to skew liberal, but there are a good many Red-Staters in the business (take a look at the Blue Collar Comedians as exhibits A, B, C, and Git 'Er D.

I've always been pretty dour and humorless off stage, because comedy is comedy and business is business. I enjoy a laugh or two when I'm in my civilian clothing, but mostly, I'm engulfed in the increasingly difficult business of keeping my engagement calendar full and operating at a profit (high gas prices make travel by air and auto prohibitive, and buses and trains are just damn inconvenient). Also, for medical reasons, I don't drink anymore. Consequently, it's been difficult to loosen up.

But this political climate is working my last nerve, and I just don't know what to do anymore. I don't express my political views very often, and try to do so in a spirit of discussion and with openness to the contrary viewpoint. I believe in that whole "more flies with honey" approach, and there's bags of wisdom in that.

I've been consuming political books lately like I'm cramming for a civics exam. I'm combing the internet, reading blogs, going through newspaper like a china shop moving across country. And all because I'm looking for answers. I did the same thing the evening of September 11th, watching TV cable news, on the internet, bleary-eyed at 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for answers. And I don't consider what's going on in this country any less of a disaster.

Every issue has two sides, or it wouldn't be an issue. And every issue can be debated with civility and respect, but apparently a lot of us don't have time for that anymore.

Guns, abortion, gay marriage, flag burning. Wedge issues. Issues designed to tear us into groups, to position political candidates. Immigration, free trade. The war in Iraq, Afghanistan. What to do about Iran, North Korea? The high price of gasoline? Flag pins? How many houses do you own? Is your teenage daughter pregnant, did you cheat on your wife, who gave you money? Did you flip flop?

How about, enough? Enough.

I could sit here and give you my opinion about all of this stuff, and I'd be awake for 36 hours. But I only want to discuss one thing, one thing we can all agree on.

And that thing is What It Means To Be American.

I was a Cub Scout, and I got a little training in this area. I'm no expert, but being American doesn't require you to be an expert.

Here's what I think it means to be an American.

Being an American means enjoying the freedom of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But also understanding that this freedom comes with the duty to respect the freedoms of others.

Being an American means welcoming people from all across the world, regardless of their faith, national origin, color or creed, as our own group was welcomed. Black folks, your boat ride was different, and I apologize, but my family didn't come to this country until about 50 years after slavery was abolished, so please keep my words in perspective.

Being an American means constantly striving towards innovation, in the fields of education, technology, economics, manufacturing, diplomacy, art, music, literature, and everything that is good about civilized society.

Being an American means protecting our shores, and being a leader around the world, defending opressed peoples and using our might to make the world a better place.

Being an American means sharing the fruits of our labors, giving back to the community which enriched us in the first place (use Bill Gates as a perfect example here), looking out for the general welfare, and reaching out to the poorest among us.

Being an American means having the opportunity to participate in a great Democratic experiment, pulled together by some of the finest thinkers ever assembled, and respecting the shoulders of the giants that we stand on today, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, James Monroe, John Adams.

Being an American means participating in a great Capitalist system as well, where everyone can have the opportunity to succeed, try the waters of the free market, and work their way into being a great success story.

There's more, but I think anyone with any training should understand what it means to be American. And shouting amongst ourselves, contributing to the smoke and mirrors that have replaced honest discourse, in my opinon only weaken our country.

So here's what I propose;

The next time someone starts blustering away with their political opinion, put your index finger to your lips, whether you agree with them or not, and go "SSSSHHHHHHHHHH."

And let's try to get our collective silence back. Because silence breeds thought. And silence breeds calm. And maybe if we all calm down,

and start thinking again.....

....we can remember why it's so great to be American. And we can think about how to get things done, the work that we wish done to preserve our great nation and our great system.

Are you ready, America?

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

All Fired Up

2008-08-24T01:06:00.000-07:00

All Fired Up 4742

Sunday, August 24th, 2008-3:30 A.M.

I'm exhausted. The last 48 hours have whupped my ass, and I'm still awake.

I'm in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, at the Comedy Zone (Hi Heff! Hi Joel!), and just rattling down from the adrenaline and caffeine from two great shows tonight with my friend, Matt Davis.

The last time I checked in, I was in San Antonio, Texas. Can I book a tour, or what? San Antonio in August. It was 102 degrees when I left that town. In Upstate New York, 102 degrees is a cooking temperature.

I stayed in my air-conditioned convenience apartment the whole week in Texas, not wanting to brave the daunting heat or sweat through my week's allotment of clothing. It was bad enough that I packed sparsely and still got whacked $50 for "overweight luggage." I had to shift my stuff to a carry-on bag, which allowed me to make the weight limit. My question is, though, the airplane was still carrying the same amount of shit....how come I had to pay on the way down but not on the way back? It's a scam, and the airlines will bilk you for every dollar they can.

After my uneventful trip home, my back started giving out. I was schedule to play Rob's Comedy Playhouse in Buffalo, NY, and by that Saturday, I was a cripple hobbling around on a cane. I had a great time at the show, and even did improv with the other two acts, Danny Pordum and Mark Colona, but it was all word game stuff, because I wasn't up to doing anything physical. I drove to Buffalo up and back, with my pretty wife in tow in case I was unable to make the whole distance, but I was only having trouble standing, not sitting. Actually, sitting felt pretty comfortable.

By Monday, though, I was in great pain and Pamela begged me to call a chiropractor. I did, and I swear to God that as soon as I made the appointment, my back started getting better. By the time the appointment actually rolled around on Wednesday, I was fully upright and working around the house. I had even found time to work with my new software program that allows me to convert cassette tapes to CD. My first project was a live Bruce Springsteen concert that aradio station friend of mine bootlegged for me. The tape was almost 13 years old, and I'd been freaking out about getting it transferred over because I know that tape is brittle and I didn't want to lose this concert, it was from the "Ghost of Tom Joad" tour and featured Bruce alone with his guitar in Philadelphia....a great show.

So here's where the torture comes in.

On Friday morning, I was scheduled to appear on The Break Room, which is the morning show on 96.5 FM, WCMF in Rochester. They had started doing a radio feature called "Lemons to Lemonade" which was basically bringing comedians on to their morning show to do their standup sets after commercial breaks, with the idea being that our local comedy club had recently closed, and this would be a nice outlet for the local comics.

I was scheduled to be in Harrisburg that night, but figured I would do the radio, make the five hour drive, do the shows, and then catch up on my sleep.

Here's the wrinkle; because I had been laid up in bed the whole week, my sleep pattern was all screwed up. I was sleeping in the day and prowling the house at night. So the night before radio/drive/shows, I was awake until 4:00 A.M.

When my alarm went off at 5:30, I knew I was boned.

I made the show and sucked down a big cup of coffee, and it went well. The whole time I sat in on the show, I was fixated on the fact that I was the only person in the room who was approaching 6:00 A.M. from the other side, the end of a long day with only a small nap to tide me over.

The show went great, they had done a "man-on-the-street" interview with some people, dropping my name in and seeing if they could get any sort of recognition reaction. One bit, they told a woman that John McCain was going to select me as his Vice-President, and the woman said she was going to vote for him no matter what. But no real recognition of my name or who I was, and this is in my home town where I've been begging for attention for the last 20 years. Another woman they interviews and they told her that Buffalo Bills quarterback Trent Edwards had been hurt, and that I would have to start in his place, and she only replied that her son was a big fan, and that he knew about the injury. I took it in stride, but they did these bits with other comics as well, and I understand that some of them didn't appreciate it. Shit, it's morning radio....they don't make or break your career on morning radio.

So the show went well, and I realized that I wasn't going to get any sleep, so I packed up my luggage and headed off to Harrisburg. When I arrived, I found out they were on summer schedule, so we didn't have to do a late show, and I squeezed a one-hour nap for myself and then did a prairie fire of a set (blazing hot, and all over the place) that the people really seemed to like. After the show, I thought I would catch up on my sleep, but I get back to the room and CNN is on (it's always on in my hotel room) and the big news was announced that Joe Biden was Obama's veep pick.

Well, political junkie that I am, I stayed awake until I couldn't stand it anymore, right around 4 A.M. I would up sleeping almost twelve hours before I actually got up. I didn't even leave the Doc Holliday's/Conference Center. I ate in the restaurant, enjoying a nice salad and their signature Steak-Stuffed Poblanos (Yum!).

So tonight, we had two really good shows, and I'm going to sleep in instead of trying to drive home overnight...my family has seen plenty of me and I'm going to be home all this week, so the pressure's off. I'm glad to be home, too, because I have a lot of catching up to do.

Before I go, my take on Biden is that it's a good pick. Hillary was obviously an automatic "no," and that's a shame, because they would have had an avalanche of votes. Tim Kaine and Kathleen Sebelius would have been two "who?" candidates, and Evan Bayh was "iffy." Bill Richardson had a whole lot of foreign policy experience, which would have been great, but I guess the powers-that-be decided that you couldn't have two minorities on the same ticket. That left Biden as a counter-punch to claims that Obama didn't have enough experience. My only gripe was that it makes up a ticket of two Northerners, so unless hordes of southern blacks come streaming into the voting booths in November, the Southeast United States is going to look pretty red on the map. But that's not exactly big news, Democrats don't do well in the South anyway, and I think it's a shame that Southerners piss away their economic self-interests on horseshit issues like gun ownership and abortion. I guess you get the government you deserve. I just hope all those displaced Hurricane Katrina victims re-registered to vote wherever they're living now. That oughta shake some things up.

O.K., I'm going to bed. Please love each other and stop being stupid.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Gangland

2008-08-07T12:46:00.000-07:00

Gangland 4635

Thursday, August 7, 2008-2:00 P.M. CDT

Reporting live from San Antonio, Texas, in the efficiency apartment reserved for the talent performing at the Rivercenter Comedy Club, it's your old buddy Ralph chiming in from the road.

It's been a solid three weeks since I last blogged, and I have to admit that my attention has turned elsewhere as of late. When I'm online, I'm consumed by the comedian chatboard at www.roadcomics.com, the online home of the touring comic community. I've also had a good chunk of my time taken up by the MySpace game "Mobsters," which is fun and quite addicting. The game is played by completing missions such as carjackings, muggings, and beating up other gangsters and taking their money. It's a perfect way for me to vent my less-than-social tendencies.

The fact of the matter is, anything is better than facing real life right now. The economy is really taking a toll on me and my family. We bring home less money because I spend more on fuel to get to work, and little things have contributed to the erosion as well. For example, my merchandise sales are off this year by 18%. That only equates to a few hundred dollars, but the whole concept of merchandise sales are to help offset the fuel cost of getting to work. If the trend continues, I may find myself priced out of the game. I'm sure the merchandise situation is directly due to folks feeling that they don't have the disposable income to waste on such purchases, and I guess in a lot of cases, I'm lucky that folks are even showing up to the clubs at all. So I literally have to change course in this business, which is what I'm in the process of doing, but it's like turning a battleship in midstream....because most work is booked six months to a year out, it's a big waiting game before any economic effects will be felt.

I did a tour of Michigan a couple of weeks ago that was both fun and profitable, because Funny Business Agency was able to string together a series of one-nighters within a tight geographical area. Consequently, travel expenses were lower, and the opportunity to work (and make money) increased. The cost, of course, was being away from home longer, but the name of the game in comedy has always been routing, and going home just eats into the profit margin.

Last week, I headlined a club called Wiseacres (Wiseacres Comedy Club, Best Western Tysons Westpark Hotel, McLean, Virginia) and we made a nice little family vacation out of it; Pam and Harmony made the 7-hour trip to Washington D.C. and we went to the National Zoo, did some shopping, and shook off the heat in the hotel pool. It was a great weekend, and even though the shows were "summer crowds," (read: not all that numerous) they were great fun and it was fun having the family along.....it certainly made the drive easier with someone in the car to talk to, although in order to keep Harmony happy, we had to listen to her Wiggles, Blues Clues and DoodleBops CD's the whole way down and back.

After only a few days home, it was onto a plane to head down to Texas. The flight was booked through Expedia, so in order to get the best price possible and still arrive early enough to make my Wednesday show, I had to leave Rochester at 6 in the morning. That basically meant getting to the airport at 4 A.M., and when you arrive somewhere at that time of night/morning, it's always a crapshoot to figure out who actually got up that early, and who is just staying up late....there's really no comfortable time to approach 4 A.M.....you're either at the end of a ridiculously long day, or the beginning of a terribly uncomfortable one.

I made my connection in Newark, N.J., and during the direct flight to San Antonio, I fell asleep. I have sleep apnea, so I'm sure I snore pretty loudly, and the flight wasn't full, so there were several seats open. I sat in an aisle seat, with an empty seat between me and the business traveler in the window seat, and he dealt with me o.k. because we were in the emergency exit aisle, and he didn't have to wake me to get past me to use the bathroom. My snoring must have been a problem, though, because there was a guy seated directly in front of me, and when I woke up after a couple of hours, he had disappeared.

So I'm here in lovely San Antonio, and I usually try to work here in the Winter, but I'm here in August which is no time for a fat man from the Northeast with a pasty white complection to be here. I usually like to stride along the Riverwalk which is goodexcercise, but the current outdoor temperature is one that I usually reserve for cooking food. I'm working with "Uncle" Larry Reeb from Chicago, a great comic that I've had the pleasure of working with before and a nice guy to boot, an excellent combination in this business. I'll probably try to get some writing done, if the pure distraction of "Mobsters" doesn't heist my free time. Also, the comedy club is located in the Rivercenter Mall, and they have a movie theatre there and the comics get to see movies for free, so I might wind up seeing "Hancock" or even "The Dark Knight" again (it was that good, my friends).

I hope your summer is going well. To my comedy buddies, please hang in there, everything is a cycle. The business goes up and down, you just have to be patient and do what you can to ride it out. And to my civilian friends, support your local comedy club, go see a show, and if you can afford it, buy a CD. It's only a few bucks out of your pocket, but it makes a huge difference to the comics.

NEWSFLASH! I just got word from the new comedy club in Rochester that their website is up and running. I haven't had a chance to see it yet, but the address is www.thecomedyclub.us so go check it out!

That's enough for me. Go get your summer!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Dark Knight

2008-07-18T01:16:00.000-07:00

Dark Knight 4491

Friday, July 18th, 2008-3:15 A.M.

Just got back to the hotel after catching a midnight screening of "The Dark Knight" (don't worry, no spoilers here). I'm in Newport, Tennessee on a night off, and staying at my favorite low-budget hotel, the Motel 6. There just happened to have been a movie theater across the street offering the movie of the summer, so I decided to plunk down the money and check it out.

I won't get into the particulars of the film, but it was phenomenal. I was sitting amongst a group of young people (bad) at midnight (worse) in a small, rural town in Tennesee (oh Jesus, kill me now). And yet, as ill-behaved and chatty as they were during the previews, once the movie got started, they were quiet and focused on the spectacle up on the big screen.

The Batman franchise has been invigorated by the two newest films, washing the bad taste of the campy Joel Schumacher films out of our collective craw. Christopher Nolan is a wonderful visual story-teller (rent "Memento" if you haven't seen it yet....an amazing film) and he really does the Bat-franchise justice.

It's gotten to the point where super-hero films are becoming pretty evergreen, suitable for any season and drawing big box-office. As a long-time comic book collector, I take umbrage with some of the liberties that directors and screenwriters take with the source material sometimes, but even in the comic book industry itself, characters have been relaunched, killed, brought back from the dead, and given the old "parallel universe" treatment so many times that films jerking around with origin stories have almost become forgiveable.

I would like to think that society as a whole has caught up with what I and several million hard-core fans have known for years; that the super-hero genre is exciting, inspirational and fun. A lot of it also may be that the film-making technology has caught up with the genre and allowed filmmakers to proceed withough making movies that look "clunky."

But closer to the truth is that I think we need heroes today, and pretty badly.

When Batman was first conceived, back in 1940 by creator Bob Kane, the country was fresh out of the Great Depression and the pot was being stirred for America to enter the second World War. Superman came first, Batman second, and then a whole pantheon of characters came around, heroes like Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Arrow and the like, who can be seen on lunchboxes, bookbags, and a whole department store full of paraphenalia to this day. The current crop of super-hero movies (and their embrace by the general public) may be a reflection that the cycle of war and economic depression has come around again.

The Spider-Man films have done great box office, as have the X-Men and Fantastic Four, as well as the minor characters like Ghost Rider, Daredevil and the Punisher. Marvel has been very aggressive in getting their characters to the marketplace, and they've got Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk into the theaters this year, with an Avengers movie being set up in the final frames of the aforementioned Hulk film.

But Batman is the character that has seemed to resonate with film viewers, and doubtlessly, this new film will give Spider-Man a run for his money as the big box-office champ. A lot of that will be the curiosity factor surrounding the departed Heath Ledger and his dark reading of the Joker in the film (and damn, was it a great job). But the character also taps into a need that I think we all have.

Superman and Batman are the big two, the characters that started it all. They are instantly recognizable all over the world, having been around for almost 70 years. And many people can recite the origins of the two characters, or at least give a pretty decent synopsis. Superman was the last son of the planet Krypton, rocketed to Earth by his father, Jor-El (Superman's Kryptonian name was Kal-El, El being the family name) and his mother, Lara. Kal-El's tiny rocket landed in a Kansas cornfield, and the baby was found by Jonathan and Martha Kent, who adopted him as their own and named him Clark. Batman was the son of Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne, and he watched them get gunned down in an alley after attending a movie (it was "Zorro," Trivial Pursuit fans) by a stick-up man named Joe Chill.

It may have been a sign of the times that both characters suffered the loss of their birth parents, although Clark was provided with surrogate parents in the Kents and Bruce was taken care of by Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Still, the motivation behind the two characters were shaped by these losses and circumstances.

Clark was found to have super powers, a symptom of Earth's lighter gravity and yellow sun. When the Kents found out about these powers, they basically told their son that they didn't know why he could do the things that he could do, but that he ought to use those abilities to protect the weak, to defend people who couldn't fight for themselves. Clark Kent set a course from Smallville to Metropolis, to be closer to a large group of people who would benefit from his protection. The positioning of himself as a reporter at a newspaper was designed to put him in a place where incoming information would alert him to potential tragedies and disasters that he could intervene in and prevent. Bruce decided, after studying law in an effort to become either a policeman or a lawyer, that the law was sometimes too narrow to mete out true justice, and that guilty persons oftentimes walked away unpunished. His decision to deck himself out in the scary bat-garb was a response to his realization that criminals were a "superstitious, cowardly lot" and that he would scare them, giving himself the upper hand.

So we have Superman, the other-worldly boy scout, putting himself in a position to protect the weak, but it is Batman, the self-trained vigilante who positions himself to punish the guilty. This difference resonates with us today, in our uncertain world, where we need the reassurance that the bad people are brought to justice, punished for their misdeeds, rather than concerning ourselves with those who bring hope and shelter to the weak. Our entertainment gives us away. We have several crime shows, the newest offering being the CSI series that show through intense investigative lab work, the crime scene investigators will always get down to the truth of the matter and catch the murderers, rapists and other malcontents. There is no movement to portray the "supermen" who protect the weak. There are few documentaries of the people who are out there doing good, because that is boring to us. We crave retribution.

The whole idea of the death penalty is based on this idea. We cling to the Judeo-Christian notion that if we execute murderers, we somehow balance the scales and justice is done. But really, all that has happened is the application of the "two wrongs make aright" rule which has been disproven over and over again. And yet we want it, and we want it badly. I'm so anti-death penalty, it isn't funny, but when the inevitable question comes up "What if someone raped and murdered your sister? Your wife? Your daughter?" Then I turn to my basest instincts and the next thing you know, I'm installing step-up transformers on the chair and oiling those leather straps.

We need heroes, but we also need to look inside ourselves and find the part that is better than that spirit of retribution; we need to encourage ourselves to concentrate on protecting the weak, rather than exacting vengeance. It is no coincidence that Superman derives his powers from the light of the Sun, while Batman hides in the shadows. They are the Yin and the Yang, two sides of the same coin.

Years ago, I allowed a young lady to enter my life, and she was a drug addict. I invited her to live with me, and while I was away, playing at a comedy club in St. Louis, she stole almost all of my possessions and pawned them for drugs. When I returned home to see what she had done, sold my things and disappeared, did I become Superman or Batman? I'll give you a hint; I was on a nightly patrol, driving up and down the streets of my neighborhood, looking for a sight of her or anyone I knew from her group of drug friends. The sad punchline to the story is that I never caught her or even caught up with her, and I eventually gave up the patrol. What would I have done if I found her? At the time, I probably couldn't have answered that question. If I were to tell you that I would probably try to get her into a rehab program, or try to help her in some way, I would have been lying to you. She needed to be punished for betraying my trust the way she did, as though living the life of a drug addict wasn't bad enough.

So what am I trying to say here? I guess the moral of the story is try to use your strengths to protect the weak, because in the long run, it's more noble than trying to punish evil. You should never stop trying to fight evil, but you should also pick your fights accordingly.

I am inspired to write more, but I am also tired as it is ten after four in the morning and I really should get to bed. I thank you for reading, and hope you get to see "The Dark Knight." It is a strong movie with great performances, some niftyplot twists, characters introduced that you probably wouldn't have expected, and all in all presents a fine morality tale for the ages. In the meantime, fight evil and protect the weak. We can be heroes, every day.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

You're A Better Man Than I

2008-07-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

You're A Better Man Than I 4338

Tuesday, July 1, 2008-10:30 A.M.

Good morning from sunny Florida, where I am in the third week of my three-week summer tour. I am performing tomorrow night in Cordele, Georgia, for the Comedy Zone and then travel south to Fort Myers, Florida for my yearly engagement at the Laugh Inn Comedy Café.

I’ve been coming down to Florida for about five or six years now, starting when my late father begun experiencing health complications due to cancer (he passed away last year). I had planned a small Florida tour every year to visit Dad and stayed with him on the off-nights. It was a great way to both fill my summer tour schedule (Florida clubs don’t suffer the way clubs in other parts of the country do because of the hot weather; it’s hot all year so it’s not noticeable) and get a chance to keep in touch with my parents, make sure they were o.k.

My mom is still here in Florida, so I stay with her on my off-nights while I’m on tour. She doesn’t so much need my attention as her health is still pretty good, but I know she enjoys the visits and the company. Last night, she took me out to dinner with her buddies, the Karaoke Mafia (my nickname for her roving band of singers who hop bar-to-bar and sing, and there’s a different bar each night that hosts karaoke), and we sat on the lakeside deck of a seafood restaurant called Tailchaser’s and took turns warbling classic country and soft rock hits beneath a hazy setting sun as the ‘gators peered from the lake with their beady, red eyes.

This morning, I woke early to join my mother’s singing buddy, Rick, at the gated community’s clubhouse for coffee and chatter. Joining us were Rick’s mother and a friend of theirs, an older man who I will call “Howard.” We got to chit-chatting, and somewhere along the line, Howard mentioned that he felt there were “too many blacks on TV.” It was the sort of thing that startled me, but I recovered because once I thought about it, the bigotry didn’t surprise me…I’m speaking with a man who grew up with institutional racism, and the sad truth is that by the time most folks are in their late 20’s, their attitudes are already in place for the rest of their lives.

So I didn’t make mention of my offense, because I didn’t see the point in confronting it; this man wasn’t going to change and there was no reason for me to try, or even to show my distaste. The bottom line was that this clubhouse was part of his home, and I was a visitor, and it was in better taste to hold my tongue. But I’m also not the type to let a lesson go unlearned.

Howard continued by mentioning that someone forwarded him a funny cartoon in his morning e-mail, and the cartoon featured Barack Obama, with blacks running away from him in every direction. The caption read “Why Blacks won’t vote for Obama” and the word balloon coming out of Obama’s mouth said “If I am elected President, every American who can work will have a job.”

Now, I’m a comedian and I enjoy a good joke. Hell, I even enjoy a bad one from time to time. But today, I just wasn’t willing to absorb this talk, so I responded with humor. And I peppered the conversation with every “old fart” joke I could remember. I did it with a smile on my face, like there was nothing wrong, and I was just being part of the party. I didn’t bother to mention that my wife is of African American descent; it justdidn’t seem necessary. And so the coffee klatch broke up, uncomfortably, and I’m guessing it was probably because Howard had to pee.

The reason I even bring this up is that my mother made a statement a few weeks ago, (in front of people!) that America still isn’t ready for a black President. When she said it, in front of my wife, my sister-in-law and her parents, and me, I thought it just to be a very narrow-minded, tasteless thing to say. Either she didn’t remember my wife’s ethnic heritage or chose to ignore it, either way I shriveled inside, that embarrassed, pain-in-the-balls feeling that you get when you bring someone to the party and they piss in the punch bowl.

At the time, I dismissed my mother’s statement as pithy; she’s not exactly a political genius. I once made reference to the “thousand points of light” comment from Bush 41’s inaugural address (and this was while he was still in office!) and she had no idea what I was talking about. But after hearing Howard make his comments this morning, about “too many blacks on TV” and the Obama cartoon, I had to deal with the sobering fact that this man’s generation, folks in the United States entering retirement age, now represent a huge chunk of the voting public. And their attitudes were put in place in the 50’s and early 60’s, that magical time when blacks weren’t welcome at certain lunch counters, were set upon with dogs and fire hoses, and still got the stink eye if they mingled with whites.

Some of my mom’s karaoke buddies were a little younger than the rest of the group, and living in redneck Florida (Fishin’ Boat Florida, I calls it), I was holding out hope that they weren’t just towing the party line. Luckily, they were not; they were Obama Democrats, and we spoke joyfully about donating money to the cause (the wife, Barbara, a little more joyous than Denton, the husband) and volunteering to register the thousands of unregistered black voters to help turn the tide.

Everything happens for a reason, and my coffee invitation this morning opened up my eyes. There’s still a lot of work to be done in this country. And I know that Howard isn’t reading this blog today, but if he did, the thing I would say to him this morning is that there are two men running for President this year, one of them young and black, and one of them old and white. And if the black one wins, old people will be treated with kindness, fairness, equality and love. Their opinions will be considered and they will have a place at the table. Their medical needs will be attended to, and their dignity will be protected.

If the reverse happens, could Howard say the same? What will America look like then?

I don’t like to think about it. And the more I hear, the more I feel that we need just one more black on television. Standing on the steps of the Supreme Court with his hand on a bible.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Talk Dirty

2008-06-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

Talk Dirty 4212

Monday, June 23, 2008-1:50 A.M.

The news has just been released that George Carlin passed away in Los Angeles from heart failure at the age of 71. I am hurt and confused, and feeling an enormous sense of loss. George Carlin was a hero of mine, a living legend whom I had the privilege to work for and with for a short period of time.

I discovered George Carlin the way many people did; through listening to his comedy albums growing up. I still have a copy of "Toledo Window Box" that is well-worn, but never fails to please. As a young comic, I remember watching one of his HBO specials with my comedy buddy, Ricky Kingston, and after the show was over, we both made the statement that we should just quit comedy, because there was no way that we would ever write anything as amazing as what we just saw and heard. The HBO special was released as the CD "Jammin' In New York," and it is one of the most singularly perfect standup specials I have ever seen, and I've seen 'em all.

I entered into the Carlin organization's employ back in 1995. I was recently laid off from my position at WCMF in the research department, and looking for another gig. I used to do a radio show at WITR, the FM station operated by the students of the Rochester Institute of Technology, and as a community volunteer, I warmed the airwaves every Monday night with a heavy metal and hard rock show called "Sudden Death Overtime." One evening, on a bathroom break, I walked down the hallway in the Student Center at R.I.T., and noticed they had a "job board." There was an index card tacked up that said, in part, "assistant road manager" and "George Carlin."

Well, I almost pissed myself right there. I thought it must be a hoax, or who knows what, but come to find out, it was legitimate. George Carlin's manager, Jerry Hamza, was originally from Rochester, and part of the booking office's infrastructure was located in Rochester, even though Jerry was living and working primarily in California. I met with Jerry, Jr., who served as the Road Manager for Carlin, and interviewed with him and got the job as his assistant.

For a period of about 16 months, I drove around with Jerry, Jr. in a Ford Bronco, all around the United States, supporting George's never-ending comedy tour. Most people don't ever get a chance to see their heroes, or even meet them, much less see them work every night and even get a chance to share a few words with them. I got to do all that, and more. George was a real family man, of Irish-Catholic descent, and had a strong sense of family loyalty. He never treated me like a hireling, always treated me with respect, and he laughed and joked with us as equals. Too many times in life, you place your faith or worship in a celebrity and you find out that behind closed doors, they were a bastard, or at the very least, less than you had imagined. George Carlin was as far from bastard as you could possibly be.

I admired George's work ethic. On a few occassions, I found myself seated in a limo or on a plane with George, and was able to watch him work. He carried a briefcase, and in the briefcase were several yellow legal pads, magazines, notebooks. He would take them out, write, replace them, take out another pad, write some more, working on bits, ideas for TV specials, constantly working and producing. He would leaf through magazines, tear out articles to be consumed at a later time, and the remainder of the magazine would be discarded. He was always on the move, working, working, working.

One story that I enjoy repeating concerns George and the way he interacted with the public. For a star of George's stature, he seemed a bit guarded, and with good reason; there are a lot of flakes out there. You can't just sit in the middle of the street and let just anyone sidle on up to you when you're a household name. But George was not the type to just offer the stiff-arm to folks that would recognize him. On the morning of a concert appearance in Houston, Texas, the crew of the show were staying in the Ritz-Carlton, and George and I were staying on the same floor. We waited for the elevator together, and this was around 1 o'clock in the morning. A married couple in their 50's were returning from whatever nighttime activity they were engaged in, and came to wait for the elevator alongside George and myself. George was wearing his usual ballcap and sunglasses, enough of a disguise to give folks pause and back them off from recognizing him immediately, but we were talking when the couple came up behind us and George's voice was always very distinct. The couple got on the elevator with us, and the gentleman told George that he recognized him, and George was very flattered. They wound up talking, and before the elevator ride was over, George had removed a copy of his then-brand new book "Brain Droppings" from his bag, and had autographed it and given it to this couple. It was a very classy and sincere gesture, and showed how appreciative George was of his public.

George's achievements are amazing; his career has spanned generations, and he's become accessible to millions of people who recognize him from his appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Tonight Show, Saturday Night Live (in which he was the first guest-host EVER), film roles in "Dogma," "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back," as well as a season and half of his own sitcom "The George Carlin Show," and he was even the conductor on the children's show "Shining Time Station." He has written and filmed a new HBO special every two years since 1980, and is one of the most prolific and copied (we could fairly also say "stolen from") standup comic in history.

George's standup routines are stuff of legend; there are thousands of people out there who can practically recite the classics word-for-word; "Cars and Driving," "Football and Baseball," and of course, "The Seven Words You Can't Say On Television." It is the only standup comedy routine ever to be quoted in a Supreme Court decision, and the precedent remains in place today. It is this single achievment that I feel describes the higher calling of the standup comic. As a comedian, I can make an audience laugh by speaking on a number of subjects, but when I can also delight the part of their brain that dictates logical thought, when I can make them think and absorb an absurdity of every day life, then I have really tapped into something powerful.

For me, George Carlin was the blueprint by which perfect comedy is designed. You can still hear the echos of his topical voice in the works of Chris Rock, Lewis Black and Bill Maher. You can hear the descendant observations of his work in the musings of Jerry Seinfeld, his absurdity in the ramblings of Emo Phillips, Bobcat Goldthwait and Steven Wright, his wordplay in the work of Gary Shandling and Albert Brooks.

When I first started to decide to do standup comedy, the comics I looked up to were Eddie Murphy (hottest thing around at the time), Richard Pryor and George Carlin. I never saw Pryor live, but I cherish the chance I had to meet George and watch him work, night after night, unflinching, offering up "goofy shit" or political observations or dirty jokes, or ruminations on the little things that bind us all together. I cherish watching him control an auditorium full of people, night after night, young and old, black and white, male and female, wealthy and working-class. And I cherish watching him, night after night, slaughter sacred cows with a twinkle in his eye.

We are lucky, that we have hours of film footage of George in his element, prowling on a standup comedy stage, hours of recorded concerts filled with wonderful, scathing routines, books filled with observations that could only come from George. I'm luckier still that I have the wonderful memories of my time with George, and that I can pick up the torch and carry it forward.

George, I miss you buddy. Rest in peace.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Talk Dirty-John Entwistle

You talk about the weather
Sun's out - it's gonna rain
It's gonna pour down.
Take a drive - no car
Take a walk - let's stay home
And fool around.

You talk about religion
Moses - Jezebel
Go to church - go to bed
Godspell - go to Hell
Why can't you talk dirty?
I like it, when you talk dirty

You talk about politics
White House - whore house
Revolution - prostitution
President - Mickey Mouse.

You talk about music
Chopin - too square
Heavy metal - too loud
Top twenty - who cares?
Why can't you talk dirty?
I like it, when you talk dirty.

Playboy, Mayfair, Penthouse - White House
Filthy naked poses - Moses
Masochism, sadism, lesbianism - communism
Suntan, striptease, can-can - Chopin.

You talk about painting
Van Gough - kiss my, ear
Gaugin - go where?
Van Dyke - she's queer.

You talk about Shakespeare
Romeo - or Juliet
Dickens - good idea
Oliver Twist - not quite yet
Why can't you talk dirty?
I like it, when you talk dirty.

Playboy, Mayfair, Penthouse - White House
Filthy naked poses - Moses
Masochism, sadism, lesbianism - communism
Suntan, striptease, can-can - Chopin
Talk dirty, talk dirty
Talk dirty, talk dirty
Talk dirty, talk dirty

You're Gonna Get Yours

2008-06-20T06:40:00.000-07:00

You're Gonna Get Yours 4183

Friday, June 20, 2008-9:10 A.M.

Well, I'd like to make an official correction. I originally reported that the Comix Cafe was closed by the IRS...that turned out to not be the case.

The club was, in fact, due to be evicted from their space and the liquor board pulled the club's license. In the bar and restaurant business, you have to have a wholesale distributor provide any alcohol that you offer for resale; you can't just go buy it at a liquor store and stock your bar. The club had not been receiving product from any of the major distributors in Rochester, voiding the liquor license.

The IRS most likely would have been next, as the club has had self-proclaimed tax liabilities for at least a year; the owner told me that himself but assured me that "things were getting back on track." Plans to move to another venue are reportedly in play, but liquor licenses are specific to premises, so it's not like you could just take the old license and go somewhere else.....it doesn't work that way.

In other news, I'm in sunny Florida, driving around in my newly acquired road vehicle, a black Toyota Camry. It's great on gas, comforable as my old Corolla (RIP), and even though it is a pre-owned vehicle, shows little wear. I took off Wednesday morning for Bluefield, West Virginia, and an engagement at Kelsey's, where I worked with Kris Shaw from Indianapolis. The crowd was a typical Kelsey's crowd, but I tried to enjoy myself anyway. Thursday, I got four hours of sleep before I had to start heading south to Tallahassee, a 10-hour drive. Wednesday's drive was nine hours, and today I'm looking forward not to be driving around. I also fell victim to the "black car curse;" the idea that red, black and white cars are pulled over for speeding disproportionately. I drew a speeding ticket in Virginia, which I am adding to my growing collection. I did find out that everything's cheaper in Virginia than the rest of the country; gas is running $3.77 there versus $4 or more everywhere else, and the ticket was only $131 versus an average of around $160 everywhere else. Shoot, I may have to move there.

Last night I appeared at the Comedy Zone in Tallahassee. It is an excellent club, laid out to exact specifications by Mr. Heffron of the main office. As an individual with comedy club management experience, I can say without a doubt that the club couldn't be designed any more efficiently, from the location of the bathrooms to the layout of the kitchen and service bar, to the customer's-eye view from the front door to their seat in the showroom. Everything is designed to provide an overall great comedy experience for the audience.

My show? I was road-weary from my two consecutive marathon sessions in the vehicle and inadequate sleep, but I was still satisfied with what I put on stage. I got two applause breaks (I left out a new bit that has been money in the bank lately, to my chagrin) and got bags of kudos after the show. I'm not one to pat myself on the back, but it's become painfully obvious to me that in this business, there aren't exactly a lot of folks lining up to do it, so in the interest of keeping my morale up in the face of $4 gas and flagging profits, I'll bend my elbow and do it myself.

After the show, a good number of folks hungout, and that's a good indicator of how well the show went. I didn't watch headliner Will Marfori, opting instead to park my carcass at the bar and enjoy some chicken wings, and suck down diet Cokes, hoping the caffeine would keep me awake and alert enough to do the meet-'n'-greet after the show. That's an old Yuk Yuk's trick I learned way back in the day; after the show, always be available in the front lounge to pal around with guests, it adds to their overall comedy club experience. It also doesn't hurt when you're trying to sell your CD or DVD after the show.

I wound up hanging around with Jay, the mc for the week, and a group of women who were in town for training for some sort of computer criminology field. They tried their best to explain to me in detail what it was they did, but I missed most of it because I am not technical in nature and writing this blog is as deep into computers as I get. They introduced themselves as Kara, Mara and Dara (their real names) but I already gave them my own nicknames, Jiggles, Princess, Mom, Sarge, and the two Quiet Girls. They were fun folks, and I'm glad the club is drawing such excellent numbers, with an almost sell-out crowd on a Thursday night. A tip of my hat to all involved, and to Paul, the manager, who made me feel more comfortable than I am in my own home (specifically, he didn't ask me to do dishes or cut the lawn).

I'm in Tallahassee for the next two days, and then it's off to Fort Walton Beach, the site of last year's unfortunate "Ralph trapped in the men's room stall with no toilet paper" episode. Suffice to say, I'm going to be more careful this year.

Happy Summer to you all!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Games People Play

2008-06-13T23:56:00.000-07:00

Games People Play 4078

Saturday, June 14, 2008-2:40 A.M.

I guess I'm not the only one hurting over the Comix Cafe closing it's doors. Among other entries from other comedians and responses from folks who read my blog, J.J., the owner of the Cafe, sent me this love letter:

I really appreciate your fictional writing skills as well my attorney, who will soon have copy of your slanderous blog.

I hope you have alot of leaves. First of all get the truth straight, you left Ed's club in total chaos. Just ask him.

You were a bad manager. you wanted to be a great comic but the truth is your peers are much better and that bother you..>>>.just ask them. Ralph get out of comedy. Go back too asian noodle as a bartender. You frist have too except your limitations. Slandering me will not help you become a better comic or change your character.

My IRS returns show different then what you stated. See you in count you can take that to the leave pile .

Will see you at comic cafe .....>>>soon right???

Well, I hate to just ignore such a heartfelt missive, so I responded:

Thanks JJ. I went back and read what I wrote, and everything I wrote was either truth that I can document, get others to witness to, or is my opinion and stated as such.

I feel perfectly comfortable with you wanting to sue me for slander as I'm sure you have no case. If you want to go through the legal somersaults, I'll be happy to go along.

In the meantime, this piece of fiction you just sent me is worthwhile to be reproduced, don't you think?

Ralph

p.s. How could you misspell the name of your own club "comic cafe" at the very end?

Some clarifications: "asian noodle" is a restaurant called Aja Noodle Company that I bartended lunches at early on in my road comedy career. I left there after a year or two, after I had established myself with enough booking agents to fill my schedule.

"I left Ed's club in total chaos, just ask him." My conversations with Ed within the last six months revealed otherwise, unless he was just being nice to me, in which case, shame on you, Ed.

I'm a bad comic, but I've had all of two weeks off since my daughter was born, four years ago? I stand by my statement that J.J. doesn't know anything about comedy.

And finally, if spelling is any indication, then I think those IRS returns were filled out in crayon.

Oh, and before I forget....you want your lawyer to sue me for slander? Doesn't that poor guy have enough to do?

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Yesterday

2008-06-13T00:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday 4040

Friday, June 13th, 2008-3:10 A.M.

My home club is dead.

The Comix Cafe in Rochester followed it's sister, the Buffalo Comix Cafe, into demise on Tuesday when the IRS came and locked the doors.

I tell people that I used to run the club, but in fact, I used to live there.

A few people have asked me what went wrong, why the club went away, and the closer to the club you were, the more apparent the flaws were. The cracks in the frame of the place were obvious to everyone except the people who were in a position to fix them.

The Buffalo Comix Cafe closed last summer after a 20-year-run. The club was opened by Ed Bebko and Rob Lederman, who together booked one-nighters throughout western New York back in the 1980's when the comedy boom was just getting started. They booked the likes of Jerry Seinfeld, Judy Tenuta and Colin Quinn when they were just starting out, barely names of any recognition.

Ed and Rob were partners in other businesses until they started booking comedy, and Rob had some success touring for the Funny Bone chain of comedy clubs. Eventually, they decided to just open their own club in Buffalo, and it was successful for ten years until they decided to move into the Rochester market.

Rochester had strong comedy clubs in the 1980's and early 1990's, and eventually all competition was pushed out by one club, and then that club went under, a victim of it's downtown location (Rochestarians went downtown with great reluctance) and a flagging economy and a dearth of comedy on television, stanching the desire to see standup performed live, rather than whetting the appetite for more of the same. When Hiccup's, the last full-time comedy venue in Rochester, closed it's doors in 1995 or '96 (I forget when it happened exactly), Ed and Rob made the decision to move in. They opened the Comix Cafe's Rochester location in the summer of 1997, and after much study of the area, decided on a suburban location in the town of Brighton, south of the city and near the prosperous towns of Pittsford, Penfield and Fairport.

Ed and Rob's goal was to replicate the success they had in Buffalo with the club in Rochester. Rob was the face of the Buffalo club, extremely popular due to his position on the 97 Rock morning radio show with anchor Larry Norton, and they needed someone to fill that role in Rochester. At the time, the perfect man for the job was Tiny Glover. Tiny had performed in Buffalo and gained Ed and Rob's attention, and they tapped Tiny to be the face of the Comix Cafe. Using his busy schedule performing at schools, doing workshops and just generally getting out in front of people all the time, Tiny was able to "paper" the house until folks started coming out to the club on their own (paper in the comedy business meaning giving out free tickets or putting names on the "guest list"). Tiny hosted every Friday and Saturday, and was the perfect spokesman for the fledgling club. He was popular, clean, personable, and loved by all. The success of the club was due to his efforts more than possibly anyone else (Ed and Rob's efforts notwithstanding).

Along the way, Ed had acquired a telemarketing plan originally devised by Garvin's Comedy Club, which required a team of phone operators calling homes and business and offering free tickets to come to the club. Ed wanted Tiny to head up the department, implement it, put it into place, but Tiny declined; his daytime schedule was too pressing at that time, and it would have been difficult to commit to. Instead, Tiny contacted someone who he felt would be a good fit for such a position; and that someone was I.

I had just recently been downsized out of a position at WCMF in Rochester, where I headed up the Research department. Our duties included calling residences in the area and quizzing folks about their radio listening habits as well as their musical likes and dislikes. I worked in that department for about five years when the corporate axe fell, choosing to outsource the research department to a private consulting firm. This left me available to take the telemarketing job, which I attacked with gusto, revolving it around my tour of duty with the George Carlin tour. I eventually left the Carlin tour when I was offered the General Manager's job by Ed in February of 1998. I started beefing up the telemarketing department and eventually the club expanded to include Sunday operations to supplement what we were already doing Wednesday through Saturday. Our business plan was simple; offer free tickets to our comedy shows, get folks through the doors and sell them food and drinks.

Working at the Comix Cafe was the time of my life. I enjoyed the opportunity to mesh my talents of management (previously relegated to retail endeavors) along with my love of comedy and my recently developed phone skills. I developed an e-mail data base, even before I owned a computer, and did data entry and sent out newsletters from the public library on my day off. Our shows were great and eventually, after the addition of Andy Clawson (an extremely good performer and eventual manager) in our telemarketing department, we didn't have an empty seat in our 250 seat showroom any of our nights of operation. We had a dynamite mc group, consisting of Steve Burr, T.L. Johnson, Douglas Berryhill, and myself. I wasn't able to start an open mic, which I thought was key to a club being able to develop a local talent base, but got around that by offering comedians guest spots on every show I could get away with. I knew what it was like to be a comedian starting out, and didn't want the new talent to have to suffer the way I did. I made a home for everyone, made my servers and bartenders money, put on great shows that our audiences enjoyed, and made Ed what I have to believe, after rent and expenses, was a good amount of money. Everything was going great.

Then I went and fucked it up.

My health started failing. I had an undiagnosed thyroid problem, I was overweight, heart disease, high blood pressure, and falling arches. My diet was atrocious, consisting of whatever I could shove in my mouth on the run, and exacerbated by 12-hour days. I would run in the club at 3:30 in the afternoon and stay until the bar closed at 2:30, count the money and make up a deposit, and be home by 3:30 in the morning. In addition, I was getting frustrated that the only stage time I could enjoy was hosting one week a month and the occasional fill-in spot. I watched local comics move up and move on, I watched our out-of-town guest comics having great fun, and I wanted a slice of that pie. Also, my wife never saw me; I only had Mondays and Tuesdays off, and that was if the refrigeration in the club didn't go on the fritz, or there wasn't a special event or someone rented out the room. I needed to make a change, to get out of the club.

I went back on the road, formally leaving the club in June of 2001. Ed had offered me ownership less than two years before, but I didn't understand what that meant and wasn't sure I would be up to it, financially or otherwise. In retrospect, it was the biggest mistake of my life to turn it down.

When I left, the search was on to find a replacement for me, and the first attempt came in the guise of Paul Slater, formerly of the Buffalo Funny Bone. At Ed's request, I stayed on long enough for Paul to get his feet wet, and a year later, he left and was replaced by J.J. Parrone. This was the beginning of the end.

I didn't like J.J. from the start. He once said to me that he envisioned Ed's money as "a big pile of leaves" and that his job was to stop them from blowing away. Such avarice, I thought, would only be trouble, and the insistence that the leaves were blowing away, showed a lack of grasp on the situation. The tree was healthy, and producing leaves every week!

J.J. started out as the General Manager, and eventually bought the club from Ed. J.J. didn't know anything about comedy (he once bragged about being able to get Steinfeld to work the club), and his management style was to surround himself with weak individuals who could be either bullied or were so loyal, they would never say "no" to him. Again, at Ed's behest, I stayed on to show J.J. the ropes, and J.J. went about putting the ropes around my neck. He dismantled the bookkeeping system. He eliminated the petty cash. He started raising menu prices and cutting portion sizes, turning the club into a "clip joint." He watered down the booze, or at least poured well liquor into top shelf bottles. He stripped the telemarketing department of any incentive to do their jobs, took away Andy's commissions and eventually fired him. He put security systems in place to micromanage minutiae that didn't need to be there; in a club that issued free tickets for a living, he maniacally demanded that the tickets be counted every night, suspecting that the box office staff was issuing free tickets for paid admissions and pocketing the cash. And he neglected the club. He became a ghost around the place, appearing only now and then to yell at the staff, on the sales floor, in front of guests. I had to pull him off of Lisa Kyper, one of our servers, and plead with him to take her into the office or the kitchen to yell at her, but not in the main service aisle three minutes before showtime. Every day, I went to work in fear of what was to come next; he hired five managers to do the work of two, and every day, it seemed like he had a new complaint about what I was doing wrong, or what I wasn't doing at all. My chest ached just walking into the place, and so I removed myself.

My biggest complaint with J.J. was that he looked upon comedians as an obstacle; they were all greedy, looking out for themselves, and getting in the way. If comedians were hanging out in the back of the room, watching the show and nursing a beer, they were poachers and needed to be swept out as soon as possible. They were not welcome in any way. And his judgment of touring comedians was asinine to say the least; good, crowd-pleasing acts were passed over in favor of comics who just happened to be Italian. And J.J. had no problem being bullied around by big-name special acts who would talk him into booking their friends at outlandish pay-scales, which he would say "yes" to in order to appear savvy. He booked talent that he personally liked, with no regard as to whether the audiences would appreciate them.

The business stayed healthy for a few years. Every time I thought the place would implode, J.J. would resurface, flush with cash and a new lease on life. Purported gambling debts (he opened a sat club in Syracuse allegedly first scouted on a trip to Turning Stone Casino) started draining the club of the ability to pay their debts in a timely manner, and the club's credit rating went all to hell. Ed tried to put some checks and balances in place by installing Mike Glosek, a comic from Buffalo and a good friend of his for years, to help run the place, but it was too little, too late, and J.J. treated Mike like a spy anyway, and tortured him the same way he tortured me.

An attempted club in Aruba seemed to be an escape, a hide-out for J.J., and eventually closed. The hotel was owed thousands of dollars, and threw J.J. out on his ear.

I'm leaving out a whole bunch of details and supportive evidence, but none of it matters; there's a long trail of bounced checks, employees who quit, stories of disaster surrounding the last days of the Comix Cafe. The club was mismanaged into the ground, the cash flow wasn't managed with any due diligence, and the leaves have blown away. And this past week, the IRS came through and took all the stems and cut down the tree.

I have an aching in me that I'll never get rid of, that with a little more courage or discipline, that club would be mine today and a good place to perform (for the comics) or see a show (for the audience) or make a nice living (for the servers, bartenders, box office workers, telemarketers). I allowed a monster to be unleashed on the world, and probably destroyed him, too. He's almost certainly looking at bankruptcy at best and jail time at worst, for tax evasion or fraud or who knows what else if you believe what you hear on the street. His sin was that of greed, but more than that, vanity. He had a system in place, handed to him on a silver platter, and he thought we were nuts, that he could make it so much better.

And I'll bet you a big pile of leaves that he really believed it.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Selling The Drama

2008-06-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

Selling The Drama 4004

Friday, June 6, 2008-10:15 P.M.

Good evening, bitches.

That's how my good friend Chad Riden from Tennessee sometimes greets his audience when he's hosting a standup comedy show somewhere across the United States. I thought I would use it in my blog because I'm not working any-damn-where this week.

My comment earlier tonight to my wife after looking back on the week is that it's been like a vacation, but without that irritating vacation pay to have to deal with. Other professions get one, maybe two weeks paid vacation a year. Standup comics are independent contractors and have no such luxury. This week just happened to be a week off because no work presented itself and try as I might, I was able to scratch no employment out of the dirt.

So, the lemons equals lemonade formula dictates that I treat the week as an opportunity.

Sunday was a travel day home from Charleston, West Virginia. The trip was only about eight hours but it ate up most of the day. I got my rental car back to the airport a couple of hours early, and then Pam and Harmony and I went out for a bite to eat.

Monday, we hit the ground runnin' and opened an eBay store. I have a huge collection of heavy metal magazines from the 80's, heavy metal albums from the 80's (many of which were small, independent labels that only produced 1,000 or so copies and hence said albums can be considered rare), and comic books I've been collecting for almost 35 years. We spent a good deal of time listing those items, and scanning and listing the items at top speed still only let us put about 10 or 11 items up at a time. If you're interested in having a look-see, you can go here: eBay Store - Collector's Comics and Magazines: If for some reason the link doesn't work, feel free to cut and paste this -> http://stores.ebay.com/Collectors-Comics-and-Magazines_W0QQssPageNameZl2QQtZkm into your browser. Or e-mail me if you're looking for anything specific. Chances are good that I have it and just haven't listed it yet.

We started looking for replacement cars today; my Corolla's been dead for over a year and I've really been dragging my feet looking for a replacement. We looked at a few different cars, test-drove three or four, but haven't found anything we liked yet that's really in our price range. I'm a no-frills kind of guy; if I have to crank a window open by hand, I'm good with that. I've never been stuck with a crank window frozen into the "down" position, and a good pouring rain running down my neck as I tried to figure out how to get the sucker back up. Power windows, power locks and power mirrors to me are all things that can go faulty on you....it's just more stuff to have to repair as the car gets older. Pam feels that power everything is "basic" to what a car should have, below that you might as well be on a Greyhound Bus. Sometimes I wonder where the good old-fashioned girl I married went off to....

I nailed down some more work this week, which is always cool, even though I'm "on vacation." My upcoming Summer tour to Florida is shaping up to be a good one, with plenty of work while I'm down there. I cut back the tour this year to three weeks based solely on the fact that that was all the work I could scrounge for that period of time. I'll have a weekend off when I get back to prepare for the big Tetta/Davis annual picnic, this year taking place at Powdermills Park. The flyer looks like this:

SAVE THE DATE! YOU ARE INVITED TO THE

"SORT-OF-ANNUAL-DAVIS/TETTA-FAMILY-&-FRIENDS-PICNIC."

SUNDAY, JULY 13TH, 2008, we have rented the

RAND LODGE at POWDER MILLS PARK.

Pam and Ralph will start the grill at high noon,

and will begin partying around 12:30pm-ish.

We will continue to party until 9pm-ish.

(As you are in the inner circle, you already know that all of Pam's times are "ish"...)

We supply the hamburgers and hotdogs for this shindig,

and we ask that everyone bring a small dish/dessert to pass.

Chocolate is always in good taste...

There will be games to play and gossip to dish all day long!

Drop in when you can, leave when you want!

This is a fun and relaxing time to hang-out and

enjoy a nice summer day at a friendly soiree!

Please RSVP BY JULY 11TH

as to how many will be coming with you,

so we'll know how much to buy.

This is THE EVENT OF THE SEASON!

Don't miss it!

Also, please update us with your mailing address,

so we can be sure to keep you on the Christmas Card list too! :)

And, if you need directions, check out the Powder Mills Park website to:

Get driving directions to the park.
(You'll need to use YOUR address, unless you're starting at our place.)
Download the park map.

Seriously, if I can find work for that weekend that's close to home, I'm gonna take it....vacations are for people who hate their jobs. I happen to love mine.

Tomorow, we're heading to Syracuse to see my new niece, Victoria Anne Tetta. I know I'll be climbing the walls by Saturday night with no gig to go to, but I'll get over it. It's like when I give a blood sample every three months at my doctor's office....it hurts, I don't like it, but it's quick and then I get back to my life.

Maybe somewhere along the line, I'll actually get some writing done that matters. That was a goal for the week, and it's been largely (actually, totally) ignored in favor of taking my daughter to the park, spending time with my wife, and doing some Hazel-the-maid tasks around the house. And that's not such a bad thing; I probably wasn't going to write the new "For Whom The Bell Tolls" this week, or even "Salem's Lot." I do, however, have a series of "radio plays" that I want to get down on paper, and then get some voice talents to perform them and put out a CD. I have some great ideas, including a sketch that addresses the George Carlin debate, "Can rape be funny?" I think I have an idea that broaches the subject tastefully and draws the comedy out in a way that's never been done before. I just have to write it.

O.K., I'm gonna stop blogging now and go write it. Thanks for reading.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY