Own It.

Last night was my usual gig, Monkey's In The Atrium at Joe Franklin's Comedy Club.

Another show, another chance to learn, another set of new insights.

Mr. Joe Franklin himself was there. I thought I recognized him when he came in with his business associates. But I wasn't sure and then forgot about him until after my set when the MC pointed him out. He stood, smiled and waved to the crowd. He seemed every bit the classy old show biz guy from the Milton Berle era.

Joe Franklin pretty much invented the TV talk show. And The Joe Franklin Show still holds the record for longest running TV show with a single host, 40 years. The Tonight Show has run longer, but not with the same host.

Many of the other comics waited and angled for their chance to meet Mr. Franklin after the show. I use to do that with politicians when I was in my early 20s. A lot of desperate young talent see someone famous and think, "he's famous, maybe he can make me famous." But for the most part, talent doesn't have opportunities to give talent. Producers have opportunities for talent. So I decided to leave the sweet old guy alone.

I hadn't done a show in two weeks. My own personal goal is to be on stage at least once a week. But with the premier of Sacred Underwear two weeks ago and the double-header weekend three weeks ago, I figured this break in my schedule was fine.

It's been 22 weeks since the last time I went more than a week without getting on stage. And since my first time on stage, I've only ever gone more than a week without performing 3 times.

I don't like going more than a week without performing. I find if I'm not moving forwards, I'm sliding backwards. When I've had breaks before, I've felt rusty on stage.

Now that didn't happen as much last night. But I did find I needed more mental prep than usual, because of the break. And I also found I was slightly nervous before going up, although I was fine once I got on stage.

Back in January, standing off stage before my first big show at Gotham Comedy, my coach Jim Mendrinos gave me one last little bit encouragement. He looked me in the eye and spoke softly, quietly, but with a certain intensity that made me remember the moment. He simply said,

"Own it."

Jim is such a class act. He is commanding on stage, with a comic presence so large it feels it could not only fill the stage. It feels it could fill the world. He possesses a considerable intellect. But never once have I seen him abuse it, a temptation smart people succumb to all to easily. Jim uses his insights to enlighten those around him, to lift them up, never to dominate or demean.

There is so much wisdom in the advice he gave me that it's taken me months to understand some of it.

When Jim told me to "own it." I thanked him and told him I would. And I smiled a little smile. "Own it," is such a straight guy expression. And that's all I thought of it at the time.

Last night I realized the deeper meaning of "Own it."

Upon returning to the club that has grown to feel like home for me, I thought, "I belong here. This my club and my show. I own it. That my stage. I own it. Those minutes are my time. I own it.

I seized the stage with new levels of confidence and a powerful sense of ownership.

And not a moment too soon.

Last night there were three hecklers sitting right in front, stage right. These drunk, obnoxious, rednecks were giving all the comics a hard time. I went up third. And I wasn't about to let those shit heads take my time and my show and my laughs from me. Those thing are mine. I own it.

Knowing the powder keg I was about to set off, I introduced myself as "your token fag comic for the night." They started in right off the bat. They interrupted, they called me "queer", they feigned revulsion, they talked non-stop during my set.

The audience was already against these guys. So they were with me. I know they wanted to see someone put them in their place. I was just the fag for the job.

Hecklers want to take my time, my stage, my laughs, my audience and my show from me.

So I destroyed them.

I talk about straight guys in my act. Usually I do it in the tone of a good-natured ribbing. Last night I changed the tone to pointed, sharp and condescending. I made the hecklers the specific, direct butts of my jokes. They were the dumb guys with no imagination. They were the fat guys with huge asses. They were the guys with repressed urges. When I mention guys who can't get any, I pointed to each of the three of them one at a time, without looking at them.

I turned my back to them and then talked about them to the rest of the crowd. I used body language and eye contact to create a mood of "you and me folks, you and me, us together against them."

The audience loved it.

At the end of my set, I made one of my usual jokes about giving blow jobs and one of them cringed and loudly said something like, "Oh, God, Yuck!" I saw my opportunity to go in for the kill.

"I'd like you to think about that, sir. As you're drifting off to sleep tonight. I'd like you think about how much dick the gay comic has sucked." The crowd went crazy as he looked more and more uncomfortable and more and more revolved. I continued to twist the knife. "That my parting thought for you. That image is my gift to you, sir."

Like a gladiator from his arena, I walked off stage as the victor, with the crowd cheering and the bodies of the vanquished lying broken and bleeding in the dirt.

FINAL SCORE

Fag Comic: 3
Rednecks: 0

God I love comedy.