Stranglehold Released

July 27, 2025

For the last 15 years, I've been blocking out stand-up comedy. I've had my hands around its throat, elbows locked, keeping it at a distance.

I don't watch it. I don't read it. Yes, I have done some writing, but I don't do anything with it.

Before that, starting in junior high, my life was an eruption of stand-up. It all started with Robin Williams's Reality… What a Concept album in 1979, cracking up to it at an overnight party with schoolmates late at night before going outside, causing trouble, and getting chased into the lagoon by the police.

There we were, crouched down between the cactuses, listening to the crickets in the dark, still laughing at Robin Williams:

"The New York Echo:

'Hello…!'

'Shut the fuck up!'"

Over the years, it became everything Carlin. And more Williams. And it only grew from there.

And then one year, later on, along with everything else I write, I decided to start writing stand-up comedy myself. Maybe I could sell it to some pros, because of course I would never get up onstage. This was my official stance, planted firmly on the foundation of extreme stage fright, even though in the back of my head I was keeping secret even from myself that I wished I had the balls to do it.

So I wrote a joke a day for a year based on current events, because that's not my kind of humor. It made perfect sense to me at the time.

I ended up sending out only one joke one time: to Rodney Dangerfield—about his butt. In a callback to Back to School—years after its release—he asked fans to send jokes about his butt, referencing the thong scene.

He gave an email address to send them to: bettermybutt@hotmail.com. It's stuck in my mind all these years. Unfortunately, so has the image of his ass. I sent in my joke. I never heard back. I'm afraid it fell through the cracks and got stuck in his.

Then I did spoken word for ten years, and thereby gave my stage fright a serious roughing up and finally sent it packing. After that, I even dared to wish I might get onstage and try my own stand-up.

I wrote more. I started getting together with comedian Maggan Hammar for comedy practice, inspiration and mentoring. She was encouraging. But I just scratched my ass and continued hesitating.

Then came divorce, depression, and other difficulties. Then came raising two children at 50% on my own. The poop jokes were flying, and sometimes the poop too. I have an old bureau drawer I could show you, second from the top—

For some strange reason, this is the time in my life when I really started daring to dream. Someday, I would do this.

The dream: Just get onstage, try out material, meet people in this oddball way. Get an answer to that question: Is what's funny in my head funny outside of it too?

But the cogs were getting rusty, and I had no idea. Everything came grinding to a sudden halt. After a heart procedure and then an actual heart attack, I gave up on everything.

Still not published—so screw it.

Stand-up comedy? Sayonara, bitch.

Funny was still funny, but watching stand-up? I just didn't have the heart for it anymore.

It's no fun to watch alone, I kept telling myself. But now I see there was something else going on.

Yes, I refused to watch, but I did write a joke-a-day for another year. And I read a couple of biographies—Robin Williams and George Carlin and Steve Martin and John Belushi. Maybe I watched a celebrity roast or two.

And then my sister Karen up and died.

Speaking at her Celebration of Life ceremony was the most difficult thing I've done in my life. It was just so painful.

This made me realize there's still one thing on my Bucket List I have to do, and I'd better do it before I croak too. All Karen's got left is her Kick the Bucket List. And that list is written in stone. At this stage, it's too late for her to cross anything off of it.

The last year of her life, Karen became my greatest fan, for the documentary video installments I was sending my family about celebrating 60.

She will be with me as I move forward.

And now that I've booked a date for my first stand-up or fall-down, it's like the whole thing's unlocked.

Stranglehold released.

I'm watching stand-up again regularly, both live and recorded. I'm cracking open new books connected to comedy. New material is flying from my fingertips. I'm testing it out with friends.

I know two friends who think it's funny. I know two friends who don't.

And so the question remains: Will I make anyone laugh onstage?

It's less than two weeks till I find out.

And if not, then I'll figure it out.