Open Mic Comedy is Like Slowly Dying in a Room Full of Morticians!

Everyone knows I am a comedian and actor. I call myself a comedian but I may be just a comic. The difference between the two confused me until one of my best friends cleared it up for me. His name is Patrick Bagdon. Check out his website at : http://www.betterwithketchup.com/

I should let you know that Patrick considers no subject taboo. He could make Freddy Krueger blush. His stuff is brilliant. I don't recommend you watch it with your toddlers, or while eating a big bowl of spaghetti, but his material would make George Carlin and Lenny Bruce smile. I am proud to call him a friend.

As we were driving together to an open mic on the Northside, I asked him about the differences between the two. He explained the distinctions as this. "A comic is someone who stands up in front of a microphone and tells jokes." A comedian is someone who is full time funny, through acting, theatre and performance. That makes me a comic. My acting gigs have not revolved around my humor. I actually googled the question and Patrick was right on the money.

Being a comic is a unique experience. Comics themselves are in a category of humanity alone. I have never met a comic who grew up in an idyllic, fully functional family, where they experienced no trauma growing up, and were amazingly well adjusted. Some of them appear quite together now but something was amiss somewhere between birth and the stage. The few that I have met who met this criteria were not very funny. We all bring some pain or baggage with us as we step up under the lights and spew our humorous musings and observations. Self-deprecation is a favorite subject for all of us.

You obviously know my story of addiction and chaos. Many of the comics I met have had similar chemical dependency issues. Some have suffered through horrifying childhoods, molestations and tragedy. The stage gives us an opportunity to indirectly vent on these issues and turn the tragedy into comedy. When someone laughs at one of my jokes which references some of the insanity I have made it through, their laughter seems to lighten the load I carry. Making someone happy for just those few seconds, while I am recounting my pain, makes having lived them validated and not just wasted grief.

Doing stand-up comedy is like a form of therapy for me. Instead of laying on a couch and being asked over and over, "How does that make you feel?" I can stand in front of a group of strangers and be relieved of my anxieties through their laughter and groans. It saves me a hundred bucks and adds a little sunshine to someone's dark day. When people laugh at words that I have cobbled together, it is like the smile someone gets while looking at a beautiful painting. It is appreciation of my artistry.

Open Mic nights are a part of any comic's performing life. They are a chance to tighten up existing material and try new bits on the guinea pig audience. Some guys are "Professional Open Micists." They work as a plumber by day and at night morph into another persona for personal satisfaction or to vent their frustrations at life through humor.

Most of the comics are trying to make it in a really tough business with the dream of having their own special on Comedy Central or HBO. I think I fall into this category, but acting is hedging its way towards the top of my career path. The great thing is that they are compatible. I have worked on a series or film and then rushed to a club to rant about my latest collision with society that night. It's a double dose of artistic expression.

On Open Mic nights one of two phenomena occur. Either the place is jumping and a good crowd is there to feed my comedy fix or it ends up as just a room full of comics and their boyfriend or girlfriend. The first example is great. Funny feeds on laughter. The second example can be like slowly dying in a room full of morticians.

Being the eccentric creatures that we are, performing in front of a group of only comics is both challenging and sometimes unbearable. Comics look at other comics in a couple of different ways. The first is like we are all contestants in the Miss America Pageant. We listen to Miss Alabama and think we could have written a better speech concerning the clubbing of baby seals. We watch Miss Ohio pace back and forth knowing our dance routine is better. We look at Miss Arkansas and say to ourselves "What is she doing here? She ain't even pretty." No offense to the women of Arkansas. You are all beautiful. Then we see Miss Rhode Island and are stunned. Her beauty, grace, speech and charisma are amazing...and that hair! You never want to do your set after Miss Rhode Island because you know she was brilliant. Doing your thing after Miss Nevada just fell on her butt is a dream come true. All you have to do is stay on your feet and you got it made.

Usually the reception a comic gives another is chilly or emotionless. When we make one of our fellow jesters laugh that is the ultimate homage of our work. It's like making the Mona Lisa smile. I laugh at all the comics I see just to pay respect to them for their courage. It takes some big stones to stand before a group of complete strangers and try to tickle their funny bone.

All in all the Open Mic is a necessary tool for all comics. Whether venting emotion or honing our featured appearance skills, the open forum provides comedy at its creative best and amateurish worst. I will be doing an Open Mic again tomorrow at Walter Payton's in Aurora. It is a preview for a feature spot down the road. I love watching other comics work their magic even if the trick doesn't work.

I learn what to do and what not to do when I see guys just like me trying to carve smiles into the stone faced observers. I have made friends with some of the country's hottest new talent and brushed elbows with guys whom I wanted to run from like the wicked witch of the west runs from a pail of water. It takes all kinds. I would say this though: when you go see live comedy, cut the performer a break. Don't heckle or jeer. If you think you're funnier try it yourself. The 7 minutes of time you interrupt while that guy is performing may be the most important 7 minutes of his day, week or life. Laugh loudly and enjoy your evening. Save the critique for your drive home or just leave it to the rest of us comics.