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Caloroga Shark Media. Hello Johnny Mack with your Daily Comedy News. Nikki Glaser spoke to NPR and discussed doing comedy about sex because of her fear of it. Nicky said, sex was always the scariest thing to me. It was always the most interesting thing.
I didn’t have sex until I was twenty one. I didn’t kiss a boy until I was eighteen. I think I was scared of boys. I’m scared of sex. I was in a constant battle with my body from the age of seventeen on, just not liking what it was and being ashamed of it.
So I think immediately when I started doing stand up, I was attracted to those kind of unspeakable things that I was just wondering why more people don’t talk about them, especially when it comes to sex. She discussed whether some topics should be off limits because she personally hasn’t experienced them. Stay with me here until I finished the paragraph. Nicki said, I feel like I have a right to talk about rape because I’m definitely fearful of it and it’s something that could happen to me. But if somebody’s like I was offended by what you said, I’m just like, oh yah, yeah, I got that.
I’m sorry I have a panic attack on my show because I talk about a subject that’s really close and personal to you and traumatize to you. I’ll give you your money back, or at least the part of the ticket that I made out of the money, because I don’t want anyone have a bad experience. But I definitely don’t think that that’s reason enough not to talk about these things. I do think my jokes aren’t meant to be cruel or make fun of anyone who’s a victim or has a condition. I don’t want to offend anyone.
I don’t understand this rule of you only get to talk about things that you’ve lived. Because I’m just a comedian, I might not of the right take. I’m not right about everything, and I’m not enacting change politically with my stand up. It’s just an entertainment thing. So for me to be taking so seriously that you said this thing and it’s offensive, it’s like, well, I’m a clown.
There’s no requirements of courses I had to take. I have no certification for what I’m doing, so you shouldn’t expect me to get everything right. And I’m completely open to people saying, hey, you have the wrong take on this, and here’s why, and for me to adjust my joke to that. I have no problem with that. She also talked about performing while depressed and said it’s hard to perform when I’m like really really depressed.
It’s hard to get to the theater and be backstage and think I’m about to go do this thing. I have to turn it on. But I will say the second I step out there, the adrenaline kicks in and it’ll offer me relief and I’m able to be honest about it. That’s the nice thing about doing stand up because they don’t have to perform the same songs every night at the same play. I kind of get to say what I want to say, so I can kind of talk about it and work through it that way.
I think of depression as like getting a flu. At first, I get these sniffles or a little sore throat, like a little tingle in the back of my throat of depression. That’s when I need to throw on some comedy and it really does help. And I’m realizing that late in my life, actually my depression is way more in check now. Deadline asked Sam Morrel one of the biggest challenges of building a career as a comic Today, Sam said, I think the challenges are really just adapting, seeing the next move on the chessboard, and also writing.
Writing is really am I getting better? I always look ahead? Am I getting better at comedy? Is this hour better than the last one? I think this one is?
And I think my pace is better. My friend is very critical of me, and I like it that way. I like that he’s honest with me, and he’s like, there was more of a sense of urgency with your pace, and I got this, And now you’re relaxed and know they’re gonna laugh. You have confidence in the bits. I think that comes with writing a certain way, but also believing and trusting your audience.
And I do. I trust that they’re going to get what I’m doing. I do feel like there’s a relationship with the audience, and when we trust them, they were and when you panter to them, they’re too smart. Sam discussed his whiskey Bodega Cat and said, it’s been a rude awakening in terms of the liquor business. But Mark and I were just talking on our podcast one day.
We had a few Innus and Mark goes Man’d be so cool to have a whiskey, but we can never do that.
And then I was like, why we have a lot of drunk listeners, A lot of people in…
Two friends having drinks together. It was originally called one More Drink, based on the idea that you’re trying to leave the bar, but you and your friend are having such a good time, and you’re like, fit one more drink. You want you to feel that way when you enjoy each other’s company. We really do, and I think people felt that. I was telling my daughter the other night about I can’t believe when I was in my thirties at serious, I would go out after work and just get home like absurdly late.
And now that I’m definitely living on old Man Mountain, I’m like, I can’t believe I used to do that. How did it even function? I don’t want to make it sound like I would go out to have twenty five beers, but I would get home at eleven thirty at night, would be my point. On a Tuesday, I don’t know how I did that. Back to Sam, then when we said that, it just turned into people hitting us up, saying, we run a distillery, we do this.
And we went with a guy that we thought was the most Legit didn’t work out. We ended up buying him out, but he’s a great guy and we learned from him. Now we’re with a new guy and he’s hustling for us. I mean, we’re at the comedy seller. How crazy is that?
We were drinking butdega cat old fashion at the comedy seller, and I was like, this is funny, this is cool, Okay, Samorell, What are your ambitions in life? Sam says it’s hard to say. I could say myself doing this the rest of my life, just burning hours and billing an audience. But I do have other ambitions. I love movies so much.
I grew up really obsessed with movies, all kinds of movies. Film, noirth or even now, but forties, fifty, sixty, seventies were my favorites. I mean, the sixties and seventies in Hollywood was such a cool era. Yahoo profiled Hannah Berner, already known for her comedy on social media, showcasing on the street interviews and stand up work to her two point nine million TikTok followers and one million Instagram followers, but the attention that came from her Netflix special or on a different level. Hannah said, it was so weird.
Look when it was charting and I was like, wait, so everyone sees that or is that just my account? I really put a for six years into this one hour, so to be able to let it go and for people to enjoy in their own homes, it has just been the best part of everything. I never thought I was going to be a stand up comedian. I always wanted to be a professional tennis player, and that’s where I put my whole childhood and up until college. I think this Netflix special is so interesting because it wasn’t on my original path.
A lot of people can relate to having something you thought you wanted and then realizing as you grow and learn about yourself, what’s actually better for you. When I first did stand up comedy, I was like, wait, this is tennis, but I don’t lose. This is fun With tennis. I had a lot of pressure from coaches and family and my own pressure I was putting on myself, so comedy I just went into it being like, let’s actually make this fun and let’s enjoy what my life’s going to be instead of been feeling like a pressure cooker all the time. Hey, good news for me.
I was sitting here, I’m reading you the Hanna Burner story and I’m like, oh, you know, I really could go for one of those buffalo chicken raps from the smoothie place.
And then I remembered, true story.
I went there last night and got an extra wrap. It’s sitting in the fridge. I don’t even have to go out. This is amazing. From The Scotsman, your home for comedy news, comedian Roscoe McClelland as a rare heart condition, but he’s still performing with the Edinburgh Fringe.
Roscoe writes in The Scotsman, as a stand up comedian, it feels like my sole job is to make people laugh. I travel around the country from town to town most weekends and it’s exactly what I do. Usually. The topics I poke fun at are very basic, the weather, politics, even myself. When the Fringe comes, everything changes.
You’re afforded the space to breathe as an artist, which I find incredibly freeing from September until June, I assume the role of role in the Forger, a medieval floutist who performed once a year in the court of King Henry the Second. Every year he was obliged to perform something that looks like latinum translates as one jump and whistle and one fort This year, in Edinburgh, I’m performing a brand new show called Sudden Death. The through line of the show centers around a heart condition I was born with, called long QT syndrome, a heart rhythm disorder that causes fast, chaotic heart beats. Some people may find a bizarre that I don’t follow the rules, or that I seem to be playing chicken with my own existence. I understand there are people who had LQTS and didn’t get the chance to be diagnosed before their lives were said cut short.
I don’t mean to sound flipping or braggadocious. I understand that I’m very privileged to still be here to write this piece. But the way I perform my style of comedy is exactly the same way I live my life. I think of it as a tightrope walk. The higher the rope, the greater the risk.
The greater the risk, the greater the reward. The idea of dying, whether it be on stage or in my actual life, doesn’t scare me. I’ve accepted it as an inevitable consequence of the way I choose to go about my work in recent years has made me braver. If anything, I find a care less about what audiences might think of the topics I mind for comedic material, and through that my convictions have become emboldened. Roscoe McClelland a sudden death at Monkey Barrel Comedy nine o’clock.
Until twenty five of August, the Washington Post had profiled some DC comedians, one of them Stephen Chen, an absurdist comic from Maryland. He said, growing up, I went to the McLean Bible church where we had a Jewish pastor. Still pretty funny, come to think of it, that might be the basis of my humor. It’s a pretty normal thing, but there’s something silly about it. The twist that flips expectations is so strange it seems like it’s been made up.
I’m surprised that place didn’t churn out more comedians. My goal is to trick people into thinking I’m onto something that I’m making a good point, and then I pulled the rug out or pause to make them realize it’s all nonsense. I explain on stage, and sometimes I know I’m weird. My comedy’s like jazz. I want people to say.
I think he was doing comedy. He was on stage, but I don’t know if he knew he was supposed to be there. People were laughing, but he wasn’t like telling jokes. They asked him what his day job is? Good answer if you were to consult with my LinkedIn I’m currently a chicken baptizer at Chick fil A, but in reality, I produce videos and support corporate culture development for a healthcare IT company.
I don’t think i’m at liberty to disclose the company’s name, as I had to change my name and disaffiliate from them on LinkedIn after my profile was discovered by human resources. And that is your comedy news for today. If you enjoy the program, tell a friend about it. They might like it too. See you here tomorrow,