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The whips and chains of comedy
I know what they’re thinking, “I just paid fourteen bucks for a gin and tonic ... make me laugh, funny man.” I might tickle a rib or two, and then the waitress reminds them that there is a two-drink minimum.
It’s really sad when you lose them. They look up expectantly, hoping for hilarity. Then, the glamour slowly wears off and they stare at you like you kicked a kitten. One wrong move, one word out of place, and they can swerve off, glancing down at their watches, trying to get the aforementioned server’s attention. A furtive look and they’ve checked out; they just want to know when they can grab their coat and flee to the safety of the parking lot.
Even on nights when I’m on fire, I scrutinize every line, every nuance of the set. “I could have said this funnier, I could have made that gesture grander!”
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It bothers me when fellow performers blame the audience. It’s never their fault. Mostly, they came to laugh. You didn’t make them smile; it’s your bad, not theirs. However, I have looked out on the craggy faces of Easter Island idols and prayed that I could say something to win them over.
I had a particularly bad night and a friend will ask, “Why do you still do it?”
They remind me that public speaking is the number one fear in the country. They want to coax me out if it. Yet, they are intrigued by my ability to stand up there, fearless, in the face of possible rejection.
I like making people happy. The answer is as simple as that. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an ego-driven experience. When it works (and not to toot my own horn; it works with a surprisingly high success rate), there is no greater feeling than watching an audience roar with laughter (toot, toot).
There is some ephemeral link between a successful joke and a pleased audience. It is the ultimate expression of E.M. Forster’s grand rule, “only connect (it is good advice, even if the title “Howard’s End” produces a Beavis and Butthead giggle-fit).”
I love the big laugh. The whole body quivers. It’s a rush. Watching someone hold their spleen in delights me. If I can make a Malibu Bay Breeze shoot out their nostrils, I’ve done my job.
It’s some weird sadomasochistic relationship. If a comedian does well, “he’s killed”; if he’s done poorly, “He’s dying up there.” We’re killing and dying. It’s a violent landscape with landmines of laughter.
Come out to a show. I want to slay you in your seat. I mean that in the nicest way possible.
Mike Buzzelli has performed his standup routine at places on the Left Coast like The Comedy Store and The Ice House, before relocating to Western Pennsylvania. And he has plenty of writing experience, to boot.
All the World's a Stage : 3/15/2010
Michael, beautiful job...life is just like standup...or at least my life...my job is teaching college students...one minute you are killin' em with your latest analogy that will help them remember the theory of muscle contration, three hours later, you get crickets??? WTH?
comedy : 3/15/2010
Good story
My Favorite Comedian : 3/16/2010
Michael, that article gave me a good laugh and I really needed it.It's good that you can laugh off these negative situations. Speaking from my own limited performance experience, I have noticed that often the people seeing you are just there for wing night or pint night. They wouldn't know or appreciate your talent if you hit them in the head with it. You won't get them laughing at you unless you give them more free wings...or oatmeal cookies. I wish I had your passion for making people happy and your awesome gift of writing.
Good stuff, as usual... : 3/21/2010
I like the sentiment that you enjoy making people happy...I do as well. I always said if I were able to entertain for a living, I would do it. I guess this is my first step, and you're definitely someone I enjoy reading! How do you get so many dang reads?
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