Cinderella Man

Cinderella Man                                                8747  (1957)

Saturday, August 18, 2007-11:15 A.M.

Boy, I will be one happy camper when summer is over.  Comedy in the summer BLOWS.

You can tell that I'm not that much into the summer as I've only been blogging once a week or so....that's a far cry from my original goal of "every day" which I quickly learned is a ridiculous goal.

So last Friday, Steve Natarelli and I ventured up into Niagara Falls, on the U.S. side, and did guest spots at Fatboy's Comedy Club, where I was actually supposed to be headlining for money all this past week.  The show drew exactly six people, and then some more folks trickled in, including a group of folks who were just going out to get a drink, not necessarily looking for comedy, but to commemorate the one year anniversary of their mother's passing.  Fun times, eh?  With six people in the audience, we decided to do some time for them anyway, because they made the trip out and nobody wanted to cancel.

"Evil Jim" from one of the Buffalo radio stations went on first after mc Bernie Rice rolled out ten minutes of the "I'm getting killed over here!" stock lines.  I don't know how much time or money he had invested in the club, but he wasn't making any of it back that night.  Jim turned in a short set, not very emotional but almost like in a "let's get this thing over with" sort of way.  I went up, same crowd, and did half an hour like I was taping a live album.  I started out doing some improv, but they really wanted to hear jokes, so I did my act, peppering it with conversation.  The thing I was sure they wouldn't buy was exactly what they wanted.  Live and learn, I guess.

Steve did his show and then closer James Middleton, who supposedly has been around forever but who I'd never heard of before, did his 20 minutes and got off, and then it was back to Rochester for Steve and myself.  It's important to get those comedy repetitions in or the muscles of the mind go soft.

Sunday I made the scene at Boulder Coffee Company and my wife got a little cranky that I was going, thinking that it should be a "family night."  Well, I've had so much time off this summer, *every* night is a family night!  I need to WORK!  I'm starting to feel like one of those humps in the movie "Cinderella Man" lined up at the docks and they only need nine guys, but there's 150 guys standing there.  Enough, already!

Anyway, the set was good enough....I found an old set list, circa 1995 or so, and I blew the dust off about half the bits and they still played.  I need to start investigating some of my old tapes and see if there are bits that I've forgotten or that have fallen into disuse and can be rejuvenated.  New material is great, but I've already done the work on a lot of stuff over the last 19 years, and I shouldn't let that work go to waste.

Tuesday, I hosted open mike at the Comix Cafe, and it was a "fuck or fight" crowd, complete with two young, drunk heckler chicks sitting in the front row, except for when they were running outside to smoke.  It was disruptive for them to keep getting up so many times during the show, but at least it was a small respite from the one girl's constant yelling out of "Hey-YO!" which the last I looked was an Ed McMahon catchprase from the old Johnny Carson show which went off the air when this bitch was six years old.  One of the open micers brought his buddies from work, and they basically talked through everyone's set and then left as soon as he was done.  There was absolutely no ettiquette to be found, and very exasperating to say the least.  The kid was all juiced that he had friends coming, but that's the worst thing you can do when you're new in the business...friends in the audience don't help, they make you nervous, and when you bomb (and all new guys bomb), you have to hear it from them at your day job/school/wherever you know these humps from.  Not a very good combination.

Wednesday, I was running errands all day and had settled down to get ready for some dinner, when the bell rang for Yours Truly as a call came in from the Comix Cafe.  Seems their regular host, WCMF's Tommy Mule was on vacation or something and couldn't make it, and how soon could I be there?  Showtime was 8:30, and it was five after eight, and I made it there with three minutes to spare.  It was nice to pick up the extra money, especially since my pay for running open mic Tuesdays had been cut.  Well, the Wednesday show was more of the same from Tuesday, almost like the Tuesday audience had trained the Wednesday people how to act, and even though we were working on the main stage, in a room with proper lighting, pre-show music and the like, they were still a little rowdy and inattentive, until I started shouting at them, which got them focused.  Matt Bergman, our feature this week, and Bob Jay, our headliner, both turned in admirable sets but the 140 folks in the room were a tough sell.

One of the funniest moments of the night was after the show, I was hanging out in the lounge with Matt as he was peddling his comedy CD to interested audience folks, and traffic at his table was so light, at one point, a guy playing billiards nearby set his beer glass down on Matt's table while he was shooting.  I guess since it looked like nobody was using the table that there was no harm done.  Matt laughed it off and I promised him that this would go in the blog, and here it is.  Ta Da!

Friday I returned to the road for my first actual sleepover gig in what seems like months (actually five weeks) and headed out to Reading, Pennsylvania, home of the Reading Comedy Outlet.  It's a five hour drive from Rochester, unless you count construction delays, and then it turns into six or more.  I ran into a hassle on the route 80 heading east and decided to four-wheel it on some back roads, and lucked myself into a route that dove-tailed right into 61 south, which heads right into Reading.  I had plenty of time to get ready for the 9 PM show, treating myself to a shave and a hot shower...my back insisted on reminding me that six hour drives are a young man's game, and I'm not in that age class anymore.  Hot water always seems to do the trick for me, though, and I'm suspicious that a lot of it might actually be in my mind.

We had a decent turnout for the show, and afterwards, headliner Auggie Cook and I compared notes; it seemed that the crowd was awfully fickle as to what they would respond to, and I noticed early that dirty material was not so much what they wanted, so I worked away from it, and actually still wound up doing some sexual material, but "walked around" the topic, which they appreciated.  I had applause breaks and silence in the same set!  It was very weird, to say the least.

One last note....gas here is $2.56!  I paid $2.69 when I got off of route 80 and thought I was the king, and then saw it at WaWa for 13 cents cheaper!  I'm tempted to go buy a very large gas can and fill'er up for the ride home back to Rochester, home of $2.94 unleaded and you have to be a wholesale club member to get THAT.

Alright.  One more show tonight and then it's back home for a couple of days before I return to Florida, and some decent-paying road work....plus, my second airline flight of the year....whoo-HOO!  Cramped seat, recycled air and luke-warm beverage service, HERE I COME!

Up The Irons!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Motorhead

Motorhead                 8663  (1863)

Friday, August 10, 2007-3:15 A.M.

"I should be tired/but all I am is wired/ haven't felt this good in an hour."

It's another week of summer under-employment as the Ralph Tetta North American comedy tour takes another brief hiatus.  I was originally supposed to perform in Niagara Falls, New York this weekend, but the club went dark for the summer due to lackluster crowds despite being the only game on the U.S. side of the border.  So I replaced it with a gig in Charleston, South Carolina, and then that gig imploded slightly, forcing me to cancel it, and now I have the weekend off.  I'm going to Niagara Falls tonight anyway, as I understand they are mounting one semi-pro show to give the open micers a place to work out, so I'm going to support, and will tread the boards if given the offer.  I'll be making the trek with Steve "The Nuclear Guy" Natarelli, who was kind enough to offer to pick me up on his way west.  It should be an interesting time as two "old guys" bust in on the young turks of Buffalo comedy looking to show them what-for.

Tuesday, I hosted the open mic at Comix Cafe in Rochester, and we had our usual selection of talent represented...I'm amazed sometimes at the 20-or-so comics who will show up every week or every other week or so, it's always a good mix.  We have ordained ministers, older folks, college kids, college-aged kids who never went, African immigrants, teachers, strippers, drug addicts and magicians who show up every week, vying for the cash prize or their part of the stage, their time to shine, to live their show-biz dreams.

And then there's Dr. Will.

Dr. Will is a guy who I'm pretty sure is not a real doctor, or if he is, there is more wrong with our health care system in the United States than the manner in which we pay for services.  He comes out most every week, signs up, and then almost always draws the last number, or near the last, and then sits on a bar stool near the door, like a bouncer ready to check I.D.'s, and once in a while, he disappears into the parking lot, possibly to get high as many a comic has joked before.

This week, we had ten comics and about the same number of patrons, and I wasn't going to green-light the festivities until I got word from the owner.  After all, he would have to supply the winner of the open mic contest a cash prize, and pay me for my services for the evening, a budget of about $75, on top of payroll for the club.  We got the O.K. to run with a truncated cash prize, $25 rather than $50, and we were off to the races.  I was happy; I had to cancel last week when we had 14 comics and six patrons, and I needed the money.  Some folks had gotten back to me that they felt I canceled because I "didn't feel" like doing a show, but there's nothing farther from the truth.  I do comedy for a living, not as a hobby, and I need the stage time as well as the income.  Believe me, summer has been shabby enough this year that I've had plenty of time to bond with my family, I need to balance it out with some work.

So we ran the open mic, and Dr. Will drew number ten out of ten....last.  While performer number nine was on stage, Will came over to me and asked to scratch his name off the list, but somewhere during number nine's set, Will decided he wanted back on.  Two weeks previous, he had scratched his name off the set list and did not perform.  I don't know his rhyme or reason, but I respect it regardless.

So Will goes up tenth, and goes over his time by almost double, but I let him go because we were on schedule, he was last, and he was doing what I thought was his closing bit.  But he was dragging it out, repeating a lot of things, and just generally trying to get milk out of a rock...it just wasn't happening.  I didn't care that he was last, Joel the bartender and I (the judges) had already determined the winner and Dr. Will was going to have to have a far superior set to win the money, and at the five-minute mark, he hadn't scored enough points to make it into the top three, if we had such a thing.

After the show was concluded, I announced the winner (not Will), and one of the comics on the show (who I had scored in the top three but not the winner), took me to the side and wanted to speak in private regarding my viewing and critiquing a tape he had made at another show.  When we returned to the lounge from the back showroom, Will had barracaded himself in the men's room (a one-seater) and was hammering on the fixtures and fighting Joel and Gary, one of the club's security guys who had stopped in because the club's softball team's game had gotten rained out.

I had to call 911, and by the time I explained the situation to the operator, Will was out of the bathroom and moving to the exit.  I called off the police, and thanked the operator for her time.  Then, someone came running in and yelled "They're fighting in the parking lot!"  Luckily, when I called the 911 center, I got the same operator I had just spoken to, and she dispatched officers to the scene.  Long story short (or is it too late for that?), four Brighton police officers responded and the cute blonde female officer went to question me while the three white male cops went to go talk to Will, the scary, bald-headed black man.  Suffice to say, another fledgling comedy career has been nipped in the bud as Will has been barred from the premises, and that's sad because just three weeks ago, Will was quizzing me as to what he had to do to get on stage in the main room on the weekend.  I'm pretty sure I told him that he had to have strong material that he did week after week, instead of going on stage and ranting, but I guess that sounded like "Lock yourself in the bathroom and bash on the fixtures, and then get in a fistfight in our parking lot."  A lot of people don't know this, but that's exactly how Brian Regan got started.  And then his brother Dennis Regan rode on his coattails, but that's another story.

Wednesday, Pammey's family had a mini-reunion, as folks from her mother's side of the family converged on Rochester, and we had a nice cookout.  It was a good day for it, clear with just a little wind, and we had a great time.  I worked the grill all day, and then had to leave around six o'clock to start heading east to Geneva, New York, for a one-night engagement at the Ramada Inn.  I brought a change of clothing, but it wasn't until I got in the car that I smelled how smokey I smelled, having stood in front of the grill all day sacrificing beef patties and white hots to the gods of lighter fluid.  I called ahead to the Ramada and asked about being able to use a shower in one of the meeting rooms (they always have the full bathroom in there), and they said they were sold out so they didn't know what they had available, but when I arrived, they let me into a guest room and I was able to shower up and dress and still had time to watch two episodes of SCRUBS (my favorite show these days).

The gig was fun, mostly older folks, about 90 of them, gathered together at the Ramada for some event called "Farm Days" (don't ask me) and they were very receptive.  The headliner, Tom Anzalone, who goes by the title "The Worst Musical Comedian Ever" had a great show, and it was good working with him again.

So now I'm basically dry-docked, except for tomorrow, until next week when it's my triumphant return to the Reading Comedy Outlet in Reading, Pennsylvania.  I haven't played there in a couple of years (and no clue why the hiatus in re-booking me) but the important thing is that I'm back and I'll enjoy the big, fluffy pillows at the Sheraton and all of the culture and nightlife that Reading offers (meaning our show, and then hang out in the lounge and watch young Hispanic people dancing to songs I've never heard of).

Peace be with you all!  Zweigle's White Hots rule!  (Google it if you don't know!)

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

More Than A Feeling

More Than A Feeling                  8602  (1802)

Monday, August 6, 2007-4:00 A.M.

I'm just getting settled down from a big comedy weekend, headlining at the House of Comedy in Niagara Falls, Canada, and then doing a low-key open mic here in Rochester that turned out to be "old home week."

I brought my old comedy buddy, Ray Salah, to the HOC as I got him the MC gig for the weekend.  I like the Canadian system of doing comedy, because they actually use a stronger comic to MC, and take the weakest guy on the bill and put him in the middle, so the show starts out strong, and then the guy in the middle can "ride the wave" and then the headliner can go knock it out of the park, rather than having a lesser experienced comic start the show.

It was a holiday weekend in Canada, something called "Civic Holiday" which I guess is sort of a summer holiday, but to be honest, it smacked of socialism.  Regardless, it made for a smaller audience on Friday, but you wouldn't know it based on the traffic at the Rainbow Bridge...the cars were lined up all the way to the casino on the American side, it was a mess.  Then at the club....40 people.  Saturday, the line at the border was nothing, and the club was packed, about 160 folks total.

We had a guest appearance by Wes Zaharuk, a Canadian comic who I toured with last year in Minnesota, and we had Graham Davidson on both shows.  I worked with Graham last time I was at the HOC, back in the old location at the AmeriCana hotel.  It was great having friendly faces on the bill and I had a couple of very good shows.  I wound up writing a new bit that I think I'm going to carry around for a while...I really like that genesis of writing...come up with a new bit on stage, then work it into the set, where it will slowly come to it's own place, and supplant some other joke which has run it's course.  It's a very subtle osmosis, too....I wish it were clearer, like if I had some O.J. or Lorena Bobbit jokes I could just throw my rope at.

Here's a tip for you, too...if you are going into Canada, don't pull into the cue directly behind the car that is being questioned by customs; wait your happy ass back behind the "stop" sign where it says.  Nothing makes you more suspicious looking than not knowing the drill.  I saw it happen Friday night, and then Saturday going into Canada, a car followed me right up to the booth and the lady working customs was hollering "Back up!  Back up!" in a voice that you could have trained a pit bull with.  And then it happened again coming back, some schmuck from New Jersey who didn't know the customs at customs rolled on up in the cue and they took his Rav4 apart in front of him. 

Another nifty benefit right now to working in Canada?  The Canadian dollar is almost at par with the U.S.  The exchange rate on Friday was .9315, and then on Saturday it slipped to .9313, so basically you're getting 93 cents on a dollar, and that ain't bad.  I didn't even change the value of my merchandise, and I sold a few pieces and that helped out with the gas.   Tony's got a good crew up there at the House of Comedy and it's a family thing; his father works in the kitchen (great Italian meatballs, pop) and his sister Layla is the bartender.  She is hotter than fish grease, if you know what I'm sayin' (and you KNOW what I'm sayin').  He stole some of the servers away from the old location at the AmeriCana Hotel, so it was nice seeing Kendra and some of the old familiar faces (plus some of the glassware was eerily familiar....hmmmm).

Sunday night, I dragged Ray out to Boulder Coffee Company for the open mic hosted by Matt Rohr.  This makes three comedy nights in a row for Ray, almost like a tour, and for a guy who doesn't really try to do much standup, keeping himself busy with acting and commercial work, it was necessary to shake the rust off.  Well, Ray got a special treat because his cousin David, who had been doing comedy longer than any of us, showed up with his 11-year-old son Jack.  Ray, Jack and David all did sets, and I think Jack did the best.  Ray worked out some new stuff, I convinced him to let himself go and just tap into the zen of comedy, speak from the heart and trust himself to be funny, rather than leaning on old material, and he did better than I did.  I did a few bits that were new and then worked out some improv stuff.  I did five bits from audience suggestions, one was great, one was so/so, and the other three I'd like to have back.  The important thing was that I stretched and tried to represent myself as a funny person rather than just trying to say some funny things.

Open mic buddy Travis Worth did a bit that genuinely made me laugh, and I was proud because traditionally, I was used to seeing him struggle.  But he's a good kid and I've always been pulling for him, and when he got the pop, I started an applause break from the back of the room and he totally deserved it.  I like the atmosphere at Boulder because it was very positive and supportive, and you don't see that much anymore at open mics anywhere.  Last week, we had to cancel the open mic at Comix Cafe because we had 13 comics and only six people to listen to them.  I don't like canceling because I need the money with all the summer fall-outs I've had to endure, but if the club isn't going to make any money, they frown on paying me AND handing out a cash prize.  I officially hate the summer.

So this week I've got a one-nighter and my weekend is open, but then it's clear sailing until Christmas.  The gig is in Geneva, New York.  Maybe I'll be lucky and there will be a convention (bada-BING!).

O.K., I'm done.  Have a nice day.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

The Year Of The Cat                     8522  (1422)

Monday, July 30, 2007-1:50 A.M.

What a difference a week makes.  This was definitely a week of mending, fixing and putting things right.  It feels good, like a triumph over forces that may be allied against me.

Ray Salah and I drove home all day Sunday and into Monday morning last week...no matter what route we took, we were vexed by wrecks on the highway, backing traffic up for miles in some cases.  Everytime we would get off the highway to find alternate directions, we would take our new route to bypass the accident, come up a few exits, and BANG! there another accident would be.

At one point, it was so bad I decided to test our rented jeep's capabilities and I took it over the highway median...traffic was moving fine in the opposite direction, and we'd had enough.  It took almost 8 hours to get out of Kentucky, and that just isn't right, especially when you're traveling north and south.  We reoriented ourselves, took a secondary road through some farm country and hit Cincinatti right around 9 P.M.  The rest of the trip kept me awake until 8 A.M., and after 20 hours in the car, I had had enough.

Monday was a recuperation day, and I slept through most of it, waking long enough to take back the rented jeep and take my Mazda in to the shop.  $500 later, it's not exactly ready for the Winner's Circle, but it's inspected and back on the road.

Tuesday I hosted open mic at the Comix Cafe, my home club.  We had 16 (SIXTEEN!) comics show up and several turned in great sets.  It was lousy that I had to choose just one to win the money, but Danny Viola was far and away the best comic that night.  I'm hoping that attendance will stay up for the rest of the summer, it's great to be able to offer that kind of opportunity for the young up-and-comers to get on stage and practice their craft in front of a decent-sized audience.

Thursday, I wound up filling in for Danny Viola as host of the show at the Cafe featuring local favorite Joel Lindley with special guest Spark Mann from Dayton, Ohio.  Spark and I had heard of each other but had never met, and we've both been working this game for almost two decades each, so it was a nice opportunity to sit down and chat and he's really a nice and great guy and it was fun sharing the stage with him.  Tonight, I got a call to come in and cover the feature slot because Spark's mom had to go into the hospital and he was rushing back to be with her...I was happy for the stage time but would never have wanted it under those circumstances.

Friday I met with my webguy Bruce and we went over some stuff for www.ralphtetta.com including adding some video and changing the overall style of the site.  Bruce is really good at what he does and I trust his judgement as I feel he's done a great job so far and I don't want to muck up the business by throwing my two cents in....he's doing just fine with it.  Choosing video clips was a real downer because I don't like watching myself on video, especially recent video, I'm hypercritical of myself and I get distracted by things, like what I'm doing on stage physically or how I'm doing jokes out of order and the like.  I noticed that I was cheating right on most of the footage from Comix Cafe, and tonight I figured out why....the stationary spot is located coming in from the left, and the other lights are gelled to provide "fill" lighting, meaning that when I look left, I'm looking right into the white spotlight, and I have sensitive eyes.  I was confused as to why I was doing that because the footage from Gary Field's club in Battle Creek, Michigan shows me working the whole stage and not favoring any one section.  Live and learn, I guess.

After the meeting at Bruce's studio, I had the unhappy business of taking my cat, Snaxthecat, to the vet's to be put down.  He's been showing signs of renal failure, diabetes or kidney failure, and for a cat his age (would have been 14 if he lived until his birthday on August 3rd), that's pretty normal.  Snax has had a long life and I didn't want him to suffer, and so it was an easy decision and at the same time, the hardest decision I ever had to make.  Pam and I spoiled him all week, giving him cat treats and petting him and showering him with as much attention as possible, and when I took him in, I cried in the car and then cried again in the car afterwards, long, sucking, baleful sobs that make my neck hurt.  I received Snax as a gift when he was only three days old, and he's been with me ever since.  My father loved him in particular and used to look after him when I was on the road, and I hope they're together in whatever place comes after thislife.  Some people say that animals don't have souls and I guess there's a good argument for that, but I will say that Snax was special and really touched my family and people who got to know him as an affectionate companion animal with a lot of personality.  We got Snax styrofoam balls to play with and he would fetch them like a dog, bringing them back slowly and dropping them to our feet, and then wait for the throw to chase them again.  He got along with any other animals in the house, whether other cats or my sister's first husband's dog.  At night, Snax used to sleep on my pillow up near my head and during the day, one of his favorite manuevers was to jump up on people's shoulders, walk across their neck, and then drape himself around the person's neck like a big fur collar.  We let him be an outdoors cat until Pam convinced me that it wasn't a good idea, and he ran across Dewey Avenue, a four-lane main drag through our neighborhood about 500 times when I was living over there.  Snax was the first pet I ever had that was truly mine, not just a family pet, and I don't think I'll ever be lucky enough to have a cat like him again.  On Tuesday, Snax's body will be transported to Rush Pet Cemetary where Pamela and I have a plot for our deceased animal friends, and he'll be cremated and interred.  I guess I knew this day would come but I was hoping it wouldn't be for a long time.  All I know is that this year has been pretty lousy for me with death and loss and I guess I've just about had it.  I'm just glad that Snax never suffered, and when the vet administered the injection, he went down quickly and with no pain, and that's the best I could do for him.  Goodbye, old friend; I love you and miss you.

Saturday was a good day to get my spirits back up, and I did that by attending Steve and Eileen Natarelli's annual Redneck Luau out at their beautiful home out at Williamson On The Lake.  The Natarelli's put on a good spread, with a pig roast, d.j., and just an overall good time.  Steve rents a port-a-john every year to accomodate the needs of his guests, and this year, the john had an actual copy of the Koran in it in case they ran out of the two-ply stuff.  Pamela and Harmony came along, as they did last year, and I even brought comedy buddy Ray Salah out for the festivities, and we wound up doing some two-man shtick for some of the guests, some stuff we'd been working on in the cardown and back from Tennessee.  We also wrote some other material on the way out there and may be cultivating a two-man act to capitalize on the almost 20 years that we've known each other and spent building a chemistry together onstage through the work with our improv troupe, The Inner Loop, but mostly just from being good friends and understanding how each other's minds work.

This week it's back to work, and Ray and I will be doing our thing at the House of Comedy in Niagara Falls, Canada at a new location, so I'm excited about that.  July's been a pretty light schedule and I'm anxious to get working again on a more regular clip.

I hope you're enjoying your summer, gentle reader, and if you feel that forces are aligning against you, like you had your pay cut for no reason or you can't help but feel like someone's out to get you, remember the words of the 23rd Psalm; "You prepare a table for me in the presence of mine enemies, you annoint my head with oil, my cup overflows."

God is in the heavens and all is right, Hallelujah!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

 

Legs

Legs                         8472  (1692)

Sunday, July 22, 2007-1:30 CDT

It's always nice to get a new club in under my belt, and when it's a headlining spot, that makes it all the sweeter.

I finished up the weekend at the South Street Comedy Club in Jackson, Tennessee, a town that sits halfway between Memphis and Nashville.  I brought one Ray Salah along for the ride, and we had quite a time.

I rented a car as my family vehicle was in the shop...Hertz kindly provided a Jeep Wrangler, a gas-guzzling affair with windows that zipper up; not a very good choice for securing valuables on a road trip 900 miles away from home.

Ray and I hit the road around 8:30 on Thursday night, and I made the drive in one take, no dubs, with only two stops for gas (rentals start with a full tank).  Friday was spent mostly sleeping and then preparing for the show at South Street, a late one going off at 9:30, which to my East-coast internal clock, was really 10:30.  After 14 hours in the car, I could only manage three hours of sleep, and my set was good, but exhausting after the physical exertion I put my body through in the past day.

The highlight of the day, aside from the show, had to be our dinner at Ryan's, a buffet-style joint that's popular in the middle of the country.  Ray is prematurely grey, as many men of Lebanese descent turn, and the lady at the cash register at Ryan's gave Ray the senior citizen's discount.  When we discovered that at the table, examining the register receipt, Ray had mixed emotions; he was happy to have the discount, but just a little pissed that the cashier thought he was old.  The food was good though, and we had a good laugh about it, and went back on Saturday for a replay.  All-you-can-eat steak is a good sell, no matter who you are.

I used the hotel pool today, and I haven't been much of a swimmer in my adult life, and today I showed how out of shape and out of practice I am.  I tried swimming the length of the pool underwater, and wound up getting a leg cramp.  I have conditioning issues, that's for sure, but after the cramp subsided, it was nice to have some excercise and get a little sun.  It was my driving leg, and that's the calf that gets all the work most of the time, so I was a little surprised that that was the one that gave out.

Next week is a week off at home with Pam and Harmony, and I'm enjoying having some Summertime off and spending it with the wife and munchkin.  I hope to take Harmony to Seabreeze or Darien Lake this week and win her a big stuffed animal in one of the game joints....I worked for three summers at Seabreeze and know the tricks to winning all the games.  I hope no one recognizes me, that would spoil the fun!  A little tip to all my faithful readers....if you're playing a game where you have to throw a beanbag, let someone short do it, or get down on your knees when you throw...you can't throw straight or at a downward angle and get the bottles off the pedestal, but a little kid can do it.  The problem is, no one ever lets the kid throw the beanbag, because they automatically assume the kid can't do it.

So tomorrow it's another 14 hours drive home, but that's what comedy is all about.  I made some new friends, broke open a new room, and got a couple of new shows on tape.  I wrote some new material, and got to spend time with one of my oldest friends and you can't put a value on that.

See you at NFL training camp, where I'll be the one with the taped-up leg and sitting on my helmet.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Evil Woman                                   8371  (1591)

Friday, June 13, 2007-10:30 P.M.

Enjoying a little Summer break at home with the wife and daughter, I decided to add another blog.  It's been 11 days since my last one (according to no less than a few adoring readers), so I guess I owe you all one.

When last I wrote, I mentioned that I would possibly detail all of the new changes at the Comix Cafe, my home club in Rochester, NY, and how I thought these changes would lead to the demise of the club.  Well, I have deliberated on this for quite some time, and I decided that facts speak for themselves, so I'll just lay the facts that I know, and I'll let my opinions fill in the blanks.

I headlined the Comix Cafe from Thursday, July 5th through Sunday, July 8th.  In the months prior to the booking, I received three itineraries listing the showtimes, location, etc, and most importantly, my pay for the week.  The first itinerary showed us performing on Wednesday, July 4th, a holiday.  The second itinerary showed a removal of the Wednesday show, and my pay went down accordingly.  I have no problem with this.

Then a third itinerary was issued, and the pay went down again.  I spoke with a comedy buddy who had headlined the club within the previous few weeks, and he concurred that the pay had indeed went down.  I was having my pay cut for no other reason than the whim of the club.

Well, there's no written contract, you're basically an employee at will at that point, and your choice is to either take the reduced pay, or allow yourself to be righteously indignant and be replaced.  I decided in favor of my wife and child, and took the reduced pay, because they cannot sustain themselves on my righteous indignation.

I had requested a feature act, Laura Lu, formerly of the Detroit area, and Laura was replaced (or to be honest, never scheduled to begin with) by Annette Lorenzo, who I understand is the new "financial advisor" for the Comix Cafe.  To me, new manager means another managerial paycheck, so I have my suspicions as to where my cut in pay was reallocated.

As the new Financial Advisor, Annette has put some new rules into place.  For the first rule, comics no longer get subsidized food and drinks at the club.  That's not a big deal for me, as I live in Rochester and I can shop and cook for myself when I'm home, also I don't drink alcohol anymore because of medical concerns and health.  But it's pretty chintzy to take that benefit away from out-of-town acts, especially in the light of their pay being cut.  I consider it niggardly and cheap.

When I worked for Ed Bebko, the founder of the Comix Cafe with his partner Rob Lederman, Ed explained it to me; comics are an underpaid lot to begin with, and many of them roll into town without a dollar to their names.  The clubs pay them the smallest amount they can get away with, which is a business decision, not an idictment of talent or ability.  Given that, Ed would say, the least we could do is feed the poor bastards.  We would give them a $45 stipend a week for food and beverage, and anything over that amount, they would be expected to pay for themselves.  Over a five day period, that would allow each comic $9 a day to feed themselves, and soft drinks were no charge, as they are ridiculously inexpensive to begin with.  And that $9 worth of food isn't even $9, it's more like $3 when the actual cost is counted and retail markup is eliminated.  So the decision to eliminate that benefit to comedians costs the club $3 a day, times two comics, times five days...$30 a week.  If the club is so desperate that $30 a week, levied on the backs of the performers, will bail them out of dire straits, then I would predict it is a club that is faltering closely towards closing, wouldn't you agree?

Annette supposedly maintains, if reports I hear are true, that "No club in the country provides food benefits to comedians," and that means that all the clubs I've been playing, that provide meals to their out-of-town comics at either complimentary or reduced costs, are hallucinations of my fevered imagination.  And while I don't want to pat myself on the back, I feel I've worked more clubs than Annette, which is to say, more than the one that I know currently has any use for her.  The industry standard seems to be one that allows the comics at least the same food deduction offered to the restaurant staff, which ranges anywhere from a 15% discount to free.  The Comedy Zone in Jacksonville, Florida is particularly generous, offering a 25% discount on top of a $30 gift card for the week, meaning that food is discounted, then comped, and anything you spend over $30 is discounted as well.  At Dr. Grins in Grand Rapids, Michigan, the comics receive a 25% break on foods and beverages.  In Battle Creek, Michigan, Gary Fields would rather break off one of his own fingers before he charged me for a hamburger, he'd be so insulted.  The Cleveland Improv offers a meal every night you're working, and soft drinks are always no charge.  And at the Laugh In Comedy Cafe in Fort Myers, Florida, Joe Galanis treats the comics to a meal on him on Thursday, and then on the weekend, a discount goes into place.  Every club is different, and offers what they think is fair, but they almost always offer something.

Ready for more?  There's a box of bagged snacks in the bar, the kind of snacks that you can buy at a supermarket or wholesale club and throw a small portion of chips or chee*tos into your kids' lunchbox, the kind that retail (RETAIL!) for about a quarter a bag, if that.  Annette has them in the bar selling for a buck each.  And I counted them each night I performed, and they haven't sold not a one.  Part of that reason, I think, is that the bags sit in the box, tops up, and the box is leaned over at an angle, meaning you can see the colors of the bags, but not read the brand names of the snacks.  Some of the staff, I heard, wanted to get a rack to help display the snacks, but Annette ranted that they were fine the way they were.

Well, in my opinion, they're not fine.  The Comix Cafe is a paper house.  In the business, that means that they give away the door, offering free tickets for non-special shows, in the interest of selling food and beverage to their clients.  Comix Cafe offers a full menu.  In the years past when I served as a manager at the Cafe, I asked Ed about snacks in the bar, and his exact words were "Why should we compete against ourselves?"  The wisdom was correct then and it's correct now, but no one is wise enough (no pun intended) to eliminate the chips in the bar (actually, that's a great fucking pun, and I will let it stand).  Even if the whole box sold out every week, that's another 50 bucks in the register, minus the cost of the chips.  Not exactly high finance, eh?

How about this one, then?  There is a server at the Cafe, and her name is Petra.  Petra is a cute girl, and she's been there for a while.  I heard that Annettespecifically forbade Petra to wait on a stage-side section the week that she was featuring at the Cafe, because Petra makes her look ugly by comparison.  I won't even go into this in detail, because it smacks of discrimination, and frankly, it's an issue for the attorneys to discuss.  Petra told me that she was not told that specifically, but through management, and of course, no one is going to freely admit to making those statements, as they are actionable in a court of law.  The front sections of a comedy club are the first sections to be seated and are the sections where a server can make the best money, especially when the servers in a comedy club face the extra challenge not confronted by their conventional restaurant service peers; unlike a regular, family-style restaurant, a comedy club server's section only gets seated once per show.  Their grubstake, their ability to make an income, is rooted solely in what they can farm out of their section, and when the show's over, what they got is what they get.  Front section people are the folks who arrive early, order dinners, and drink throughout the show.  Back section folks arrive later, and maybe have a few drinks, and then disappear into the night.  The club tries it's best to rotate servers through these sections in an attempt to make an equitable run at offering servers the same opportunities to make money, but I guess under the new Financial Advisor's rules, you aren't allowed to make a decent living if you're too pretty.

As a performer, Annette has pretty much become an "in-joke" with all the bookers I work with and speak to.  She currently doesn't work the road and has irritated many bookers to the point where they won't even take her calls anymore, much less put her into any of the rooms they book.  Annette's major fault is impatience.  Building an act, and a rapport with the audience, is a skill that takes time, and nothing but time.  Through no fault of her own, she was introduced to the road early, and now has a differing opinion of her skills and talents that other, nonobjective parties do.  Nonetheless, she has found nothing but dead ends in her attempts to get booked, and now has found a vulnerable partner in the Comix Cafe.

Annette used her position as tax preparer and financial advisor to become my middle act this past week.  All but two of the shows were unwatchable, and I think after Friday's lateshow, if she didn't leave the building in tears, she is in more self-denial than I can even describe.  As she left the stage after her Friday late show set, she walked past me and said "good luck," and I said "thanks, I think I'll be o.k." and got an applause break within the first minute.  I've only worked 19 years to develop that skill, and when I take a booking, I feel it's because I've earned it, not because I've done someone a favor in another resepect and I deserve something in return.  She's loud, caustic, and picks on people in the audience for no reason.  She comes off as very unlikeable, and wonders why she's not getting the response she thinks she deserves.  Tape your set, Annette, and play it back at normal volume.  You'll want to stab your eardrums out with steak knives, if you're not already completely deaf.

The latest rumour running around the grapevine is that Annette is putting the kibosh on any out-of-state feature acts at the club.  This is going to open opportunities for some New York City folk, but probably not the New York City comics that should be getting the look; it's most likely a clique of comics at Annette's level and the whole thing is a "gig-trading" scheme whereby you book me and I'll book you.

Normally, I wouldn't care what kind of machinations the club would deem worthy to participate in, but this is a policy that is going to directly affect the comics from Rochester who work elsewhere.  Our good names are going to be besmirched because comics from Michigan or Ohio or anywhere else can no longer perform in Rochester.  Would comics, who suddenly find themselves blackballed in Rochester for no other reason than their place of residence, be wrong if they went back to their home clubs and expressed some dismay?  Would those clubs be wrong if they started treating Rochester comics like pariahs in return?

I say no, and sadly so; that one comic who finds herself painted into a corner by her impatience and arrogance would cause other hard-working comics to be shaded in such a way would be unconscionable, unchampionable, and evil.

One of the more interesting exchanges that Annette and I had this week concerned a post I wrote on Roadcomics.com about a sitcom based on a comedy club.  I wrote that the first character I would write would be the "damaged female" that most comedy clubs seem to have, who has gone through a divorce, bad life or whatever, and becomes like the mother to the waitstaff.  In her arrogance and paranoia, Annette actually thought I was writing about her, forgetting that I have 19 years in the business to draw upon and reference.  Every club in Rochester for the last two decades (wait, let me list them....Yuks Yuk's, Funnybone, Zinger's, Hiccup's, Comix Cafe) has had one female working in it that was the mother hen to the waitstaff, and the day I call Annette the waitstaff's mother at the Comix Cafe is the day I eat my keyboard...not only is she not the waitstaff's mother, they fucking hate her.

Will this blog arouse Annette's rage?  Absolutely.  Moreso because the allegations are true and irrefutable than any sort of wrongdoing on my part.  In a previous blog, I intimated the details of Annette's misbehavior at a gig booked by Mike Dambra, and related that my statement to her, when she asked me "You're headlining, take me with you as your feature," I replied "Not until you make things right with Mike Dambra."

This refusal lead to a potchkeyed response letter, supposedly penned by Annette's boyfriend Charles, promising a boycott of Mike's North American tour and other hollow threats.  If you would like to read the letter, and Mike's response, they are posted at www.myspace.com/picklesplace under the title "I'm a raciest!" which is "racist" mispelled.

Regardless, Annette has it in her mind that Mike and I have somehow blackballed her from comedy, which is as far from the truth as could be.  In real life, neither of us are willing to put our professional standings on the line and reccommend her for comedy work or take her in a supporting role, and that is somehow interpreted as being "blackballed."  It is a paranoid way to look at things, an arrogant and selfish way, born of the statement "I want" and in no way respectful of the statement "I deserve" or "I earned."

You make your bed and you sleep in it, I say.  And God forbid the club one day closes and you have no bargaining chip with which to work, and you find yourself and your numbers, cold and alone, your dreams shattered on the rocks of your own ego and pride.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

P.S.  Oh, and did I mention that the "Funniest Woman in Rochester" contest was fixed?  Two seperate judges told me that they were told they could vote for any of the four finalists, as long as they voted for Annette.  So now she has a credit to hang her hat on.  Now all she has to do is get a hat.

With Teeth

With Teeth                     8219  (1439)

Tuesday, July 3, 2007-11:30 A.M.

Wow, I'm back home from the big Florida tour and frankly, I don't even know how I made it.

The weekend at the Laugh-In Comedy Cafe was great, and we had decent shows despite rainy weather and an early week wildfire that threatened nearby Cape Coral, Florida.

The weekend was not without it's "comedy moments," those little episodes that seem like they could only happen around a comedy club; why there's never been a sitcom about a comedy club, I'll never know.  Anyway, my favorite moment was called "The Case of the Missing Teeth."

I was at a merchadise table outside the club when an elderly couple came out of the club, fixing to call it a night.  It was first show Friday, and Al Romero, the headliner, was still on stage.  The couple smiled and shook my hand, told me they enjoyed the evening, and then headed to their car.  A few minutes later, the gentlemen, clearly perturbed, came back and spoke to one of the security guys.  It seems his wife had lost her lower set of dentures and thought she might have left them in the club.

The security guy disappeared back into the club and the gentleman began to speak to me, venting about his wife and how stupid it is to lose your teeth, and that she must have left them wherever her brains got lost to, and things of that nature.  Then he pointed to my CD's and asked me how much my "tapes" were.  I ignored the irony and sold him a couple.  Then the wife appears and starts asking me for help, and I have to explain that I'm the comic, I don't have access to the kitchen or the lost and found, or wherever her teeth might have toddled off to.

As she's walking away, I notice a semi-circular bulge in her front shirt pocket.

Are you with me?  I grab the husband and tell him, "Check her shirt pocket."

He grabs her, spins her around, and reaches into the pocket, and lo and behold, voila, the TEETH!

"Here's your teeth, DUMMY!" he says, clearly frustrated, embarassed and wanting to get home with his very drunk wife.

Now, I'm not for public humiliation and name-calling, but the woman was very drunk...she was doing that drunk crab-walk where you're moving but not going forward, just scuttling side-to-side.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful compared to this.  I split the drive up from Florida to Rochester in two chunks, doing half the trip on Sunday and stopping over in Wytheville, Virginia, and finishing the trip home yesterday.  It seems like some sort of a dream that I made it home through thunderstorms, traffic backed up due to traffic accidents, negotiating scores of police cars taking advantage of one of two July 4th weekends this year, and gasoline prices that fluctuated anywhere between 2.69 (Virginia) and 3.11 (New York and Pennsylvania) per gallon.

Tonight, it's back to work at the open mic at Comix Cafe, and maybe tomorrow I'll gather my thoughts and start detailing the events that are unfolding at the club that in my estimation, as a seasoned comedy club professional, will certainly kill the club just as dead as it's late, lamented predecessor in Buffalo.

Stay tuned.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY