The Death of Comedy Carl

The Death of Comedy

            Time has a way of obscuring everything after a while. In that way, it is mischievous. It plays tricks on the many, making the big events feel small, and the small events feel like nothing. And sometimes, time has a way of completely robbing the seismic from being felt at all. This is a story about the death of an icon that never had the chance to be iconic, a giant whose footsteps were quickly covered up, this is the story of the death of comedy and the delinquency of time.

            As told through the words of experts and those present, this multi-part article will go through the rise and fall of a man called Comedy, Comedy Carl. As per his request, his origins, where he came from, his backstory, how he developed his craft, anything personal at all, will not be covered. Comedy felt that all of those details were unnecessary, feeling that his art and its influence should speak for itself.

Bobbie Newark, humor historian: “We’ve all heard utterances of the phenomena known as Comedy Carl, but there haven’t been a lot of people who have experienced it firsthand. His performances have all been very sporadic, you never knew if he was going to perform until he was on that stage. This was never more true than with his very first performance, the now famous and mythic, Comedy Café show.

Stan Grustaff, owner of the Comedy Café: “Yea we had been running this open mic competition for years. Sometimes the talent that showed up wouldn’t be top shelf, but they packed the house, you know. We got paid. It was pretty standard stuff, 8 amateurs, five minutes, the winner walks away with 25 bones and a spot on the all-star show at the end of the year. All the amateurs were required to bring 5 guests, all 5 guests had to buy two drinks. We were basically robbing them, but, hey, you know, that’s the game. We throw on a few hired guns after the competition so the audience feels like they got their moneys worth, we square. No one is supposed to be great. Every person that goes on is almost a guaranteed bust. Maybe 2 or 3 are great, then the competition just becomes a two horse race. Very cynical way of thinking, I know, but you become jaded in this business. You see funny people stand in a silent room and unfunny people star in “Mall Cop. Let me tell you guys something though, after this particular show, the monthly showcases have become my favorite day of the month. You never know if another Comedy Carl will show up.

Bobbie Newark, humor historian: People remember Richard Pryor at Sunset Strip, people remember Tig Notaro at Largo, people remember Chris Rock: Bring the Pain; everyone at the Comedy Café remembers Comedy Carl at the Comedy Café.

Stan Grustaff, owner of the Comedy Café: “I was working the door like I usually do, when he walked in, lookin’ like he was drowning in his big clothes. Real young lookin’, I had to check his ID twice to make sure he wasn’t a fetus. I felt bad for him because, as the rules say, he needed to bring in 5 people to perform, and he didn’t have that. He had one friend he came in with and 4 people he said were coming. Eventually one more friend came in, but he was still down three. I was sure no one was coming so I had to make a decision whether to let him go out there. I let him perform. Kids like that usually don’t get a chance to command a room, you know, they usually hide in the back, wishin’. I’ll let him strike out, maybe motivate him to get a haircut or something.

Tommy “Pieface” Razana, comedian that night: “Yea, I remember that kid. He walked in, looking timid, quiet, wearing a flannel sweatshirt and baggy pants. I was looking at him like, ‘this kid, I’d be surprised if he makes it two minutes.’ He didn’t talk to the other comedians, stayed with a friend he came in with. A sign of disrespect if you ask me. You have to sit with the comedians, them the rules, it’s common courtesy. Usually we’d pull the ole’ heck job on him, over exaggerate our laughter, talk in the back, let him know there’s convention to all this. But we let him do his thing. Sometimes you have to let the weak ones fall on their own, it’s comedy. We let him enjoy his Blue Moon or whatever the hell he was drinking. It had a professionally placed orange in it so I’m assuming it was a Blue Moon. Mister fuckin’ fancy.”

Jesse “Syke” Davids, comedian: “I was the first one up that night. It was a rough crowd. They weren’t giving it up for clumsy dick or race joke. I knew right away I wasn’t going to win, especially at such an early position. The first three slots usually get fucked over. Nobody remembers the early guys. Laughs come and go and people only remember the ones that are still in the air. After me, some guy came up, threw a few fumbled punchlines, left. After that guy though, Comedy Carl came on. Terrible looking flannel, gawky walk, overly neurotic, no history was going to made with this guy….SYKE!

Slacks, MC that night: “I called his name and he kind of moseyed on over, he wasn’t in much of a hurry, so I made a joke about it. We shook hands and then it was on.”

Tommy “Pieface” Razana, comedian: “I may not have liked him, but he had me hooked. I still remember his last joke, he was like, ‘I know I sound like I’m being hard on myself, but, honestly, I have some pretty good stuff lined up. Me and this girl made a pact where, if we’re still single at 50, we’ll get together---and have me euthanize her.’ I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in that position.”

Susie Sispik, audience member: “My favorites were his jokes turning the male libido inside out. Who can forget, “The only reason there’s sex in my fantasies is because the woman gets tired of me talking?”

Jesse “Syke” Davids, comedian: “It was definitely self-deprecation. There’s no doubt about it. It was 5 minutes of a guy ragging on himself. You don’t see that too often in open mic sets. Most comedians want to come off self-assured or, like, they know what’s up. There’s that feeling of, yea, I’m up here and everyone is listening to me talk, I’m the man. We usually do jokes about us banging some broads. Use the microphone as our penis. That wasn’t Comedy though. Hearing Comedy Carl perform, it was like he was admitting to the crowd that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he knew he was a flawed human being. It was like we were sitting in on his confessional.

Susie Sispik, audience member: “It was very childlike. Not in the novice sense, or in his wrist size, but in the way it felt so pure. Hearing him talk, this was the speech of a young man unsure of the world and who was taking his time dissecting it in front of us. It was like watching a child digesting the horrors of society and choosing to not stop eating.  The performance was brave. Some people will call this self-deprecation; I say it was calling the world out on it’s shit.

Rodney K, blown away audience member: “Yo, I remember steppin’ up into that place like, lets see the comedy, baby, ya know, me being with my lady and all. I just remember, after it was all over, my baby looks at me and says, ‘that dude right there, he’s going to make the whole world laugh someday.’

Slacks, MC: “After he was done, he did a quick thank you, dropped his head, and left the stage. You’d think after a set like that, he’d walk off like Babe Ruth after a touchdown. I couldn’t tell if it was humility or exhaustion. Sitting through the next 10 comics was going to be test, I remember thinking.

Stan Grustaff, owner of the Comedy Café: “Everyone waited with bated breath for the winner. It was one of the only times where I felt like people actually gave a shit about who won. The ballets were in, the winner was announced---and it wasn’t Comedy.

Bobbie Newark, humor historian: The air was sucked out of the room. People looked around in shock. People say the only reason that place wasn’t burned down was because the two drink minimum cooled down the crowd.

Jesse “Syke” Davids, comedian: It was as though a whoopee cushion won.

Susie Sispik, audience member: This was the day the world found out that comedy was hollow. This was the day you found out that comedy no longer had any substance, just a bunch of surface level schoolyard shit.

Rodney K, audience member: “I was pissed off, man. If it wasn’t for my two chocolate martinis, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Stan Grustaff, owner of Comedy Café: “I was like, this guy better get out of here.”

Sam “Shorty” Asply, winner: “I knew when my name was called, that I had to get the hell out of there. Nobody likes to see an underdog story crumble. He was a kid going up for the first time, knocked it out of the park, and he lost to me, the hunk. I’m 5’2 with acne and glasses, obviously everyone knew I didn’t need the win. I already had it all! Stan gave me my money and whispered to me, ‘you better get out of here.’ That night haunts me. It should’ve been one of the happiest nights of my life, THE night of my life. Who doesn’t dream of winning 25 dollars at a local open mic competition? Instead, I’m known as the guy who robbed Comedy. I still think of it, still have the nightmares. You don’t get second chances to be second place. It’s life and I’ve had to learn to deal with that.

Tommy “Pieface” Razana, comedian: “I caught him before he left and patted him on the shoulder, told him, ‘good job.’ It was the most crow I’ve ever had to eat. I’m surprised I’m not still choking on feathers.”

Stan Grustaff, owner of Comedy Café: “He didn’t stay long after the loss. He walked out, talked in the parking lot for a bit, and he was off. It wouldn’t be until another year that I’d see him again.

A folk legend was born on the stage on the Comedy Café, but as with most tales, it wouldn’t be long before comedy turned into tragedy. Part 2 will cover the infamous Bremen Café shows and Comedy Carl’s descent into alcoholism and salvation in the form of non-fiction writing.

           

Comedy Carl outtakes, taken from his personal journals donated to the :

“I have enough shirts for two weeks and enough pants for half a week. I think that’s why people call me top heavy.”

“Prostitution is a temp job---they always come and go.”

“Isn’t it crazy that if you’re trying to date someone, the phrase, “maybe I’ll see you around,” is a power play?”

“My favorite thing is when people say, “hey, remember this? Remember when we had to do this instead of just doing this.” Like, how we’re like, “hey, remember stationary phones? Remember when we all didn’t have cell phones? When we had to stand by the phone and twirl the cord to feel like we weren’t just standing by a phone.” Or when the telegraph was invented and people were like, “hey, remember when we just didn’t talk to each other? Remember when we couldn’t communicate to each other from long distances? When we assumed people died if we didn’t see them in a few months. That was nuts.” Or us with our camera phones and social media, “Hey, remember remembering? Remember when we had to just remember stuff instead of looking online to remember doing something. When we looked back on our lives in our heads and pulled out memories. That’s crazy.”