Your Next Comic is a GIRL
( My Very Twenty Second Newsletter)
I started doing stand up in the late 90s. It was rare then to see another woman on a show, unless I was performing at a Ladies Night–often spelled Lay-deez. I’d been a lawyer briefly but had also clerked for a federal judge. I was more than familiar with terms like “hostile work environment” and "Title VII.” But suddenly I was in a field where the decision makers had no problem explaining to me that women weren’t funny and that I needed a makeover. Emcees didn’t bother learning my name or the names of the other women they’d introduced at other shows. Most night, my fellow comics (always men as there was only one woman per show) told rape joke after rape joke every night. Women were bitches who had no redeeming qualities unless their “titties” were big. Big named comics would chit chat with the crowd and pronounce to women that they wanted to tie them up and put them in their car. My manager admonished me not to tell jokes about my period or dating because they were too low brow.
The rape stuff was the worst. And it seemed so pervasive. In comedy, a woman wants to get raped or rape is punishment for bad behavior. It never occurred to the comics that so many women fear rape all the time. It never occurred to them that many of their audience members had been raped.
And then, in the early 2000s, something happened. I’m not a social scientist so I have no idea why, but I’m guessing that more women were breaking through at comedy clubs and more women were buying the comedy tickets themselves. The New York Times hired a comedy critic, thereby transforming what had been considered a sideshow to an actual art form. I heard fewer rape jokes. Even the guys who told the rape jokes stoped telling them. They also stopped with the ethnic stereotypes and the jabs against the disabled. When Daniel Tosh joked that an audience member deserved to be raped, he was condemned by a lot of the guys who’d told these jokes just years earlier. Some of my more pessimistic pals complained that those guys were voicing disgust only because the rape jokes were getting less popular. And that may be true, but in my mind’s eye I can see many of these comics as they are now: evolved and empathetic. As jokes have become more sophisticated, resorting to bigoted cliches is just embarrassing. Many of these guys are married; many have daughters. They may have married someone not white. They have special needs kids. Or they simply have developed empathy.
Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of misogynist comics out there. Some are even women. But for every one of those creeps, there are at least two or three who aren’t interested in going the objectification route. Some are newer comics who grew up in a different time. And some have been around a long time but chose to change.
Distractions
Snacks
I love sauce. It’s often the deciding factor for my restaurant order, and it’s my favorite part of cooking. A few weeks ago, I was at a street fair in Miami and tried the most delicious truffle parmesan cream. I immediately bought some, and my kids and I have been adding it to everything we cook: eggs, meat, stir fry. If you’re not fond of flavor, ignore this recommendation.
TV
I just watched all five seasons of Pernille, the best dramedy ever. The show is actually called Porni in its native Norwegian but I think Netflix changed the name for the English version to Pernille so people wouldn’t get the wrong idea. And now, this masterpiece sounds like a Latin American pork preparation. That said, the show, about a single, social worker mom and her two quirky daughters is both funny and heartwarming. I devoured thirty episodes in one week.
Movie
Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris is a completely delightful watch. The premise is simple. Set in the 1950s, Mrs. Harris, a London cleaning woman, sees a Dior gown in her client’s closet and decides she must go Paris and acquire one for herself. It had an Audrey Hepburn version of Sabrina tone.
Book
I was on four flights this past week and needed a nice fluffy read. Janelle Brown’s What Kind of Paradise, about a young girl who escapes her cray cray father, did the trick. Enough twists and turns to keep it interesting.
Something I Learned
Some spiders produce milk. I predict we will be ordering arachnecinos soon