Comedy for the Blocked Comedian

We’ve all been there before; you know that once a year feeling (or every week, day, and hour) when we hate our work. It’s stupid, contrived, boring, regurgitated, crap that’ll make us look like dullards, and we’ll want to jump off a building, or write how-to blogs on the internet. If we took it on stage or sent it out hard-copy on spec, we’d be trashed and booed from L.A. to 30 Rockefeller Drive and we’d never get a shot at re-writing Weekend Update (which meets all of the above descriptive observations).

I’ve said it before, but it needs repeating. When you feel the comedic blues, and the Red Bull and the venti, triple-shot, Jamaican Blue Mountain drip (no cream) hasn’t kicked in, go back to basics. Go straight to your ass. It’s one of the fundamental foundations of comedy. Has there ever been a better source of humorous wisdom? Everyone in the world relates!

Sit on it for a while. We’ve all got assholes and guys, ours is the ugliest quarter- inch, one-eyed, puculated, unshaven, deservedly hidden body part we’ll find. A close-up of my naked, hairy, third-eye-blind would be hilarious. I could use a cheap, digital camera, self-time a quick pic, blow it up at Fed-Ex Kinkos, put it on an easel at a stand-up gig and say nothing. Maybe bring a remote fart machine. You’re at least smiling…I can sense it…Are you starting to think funny things?

Which takes me to the amazing comedic voice that’s generated by the aforementioned, singing, fecal clipper. Put a politician at a microphone talking about the ozone layer and you have opinionated drivel. Have him lift his leg in the middle of the speech thinking no-one’s gonna hear and not only does the bundle of network mics pick it up, but they amplify it to the world, prime-time… and let’s further assume that it’s one of those stealthy blasts that you’d normally try to out walk at the market. Picture the press crew shooting quick glances at each other…looks of denial, accusation, and inquisition. The politician fakes a cough and the press secretary has to turn because he’s laughing so hard. Great comedy from the hidden voice we all have.

So blocked comedians everywhere, get off your butt, eat more fiber, and start talking shit! Be the asshole you want to see in the world.

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K.W. Bowlin

Southern California native. Passion for history, particularly big, ugly battles. Loves all stringed instruments. Never hit a good 2-iron in his life. Writes like a fiend. Married to his best friend, high school sweetheart and crack photographer Mary, and has four fantastic, grown kids and a Lhasa Apso puppy named Coby.

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