We clap politely at bad improv. Here's why we shouldn't

Reinforcements can be both positive and negative. Like turning shark week on in a crowded bar, while a few people may clap, you don't know whether their reaction is positive or negative. What I can tell you is that many people clap at the sight of bad improv, thereby reinforcing bad habits. And much like nuns who've played in the rain too long, we don't want to reinforce bad habits. Now, sad rabbits? That I would like to explore, but maybe at a later date.

We take each laugh in the crowd for granted, as a "Oh ho ho, I've done good kid. Kick a nickel in a top hat and scram! Ya hear?" But what if we were doing bad improv, and they were clapping to get us out of the scene, like an audience edit. While as organic as a scene could be, I've been both in the audience and on stage for air sucking silence that zip zop zaps me to my core. We all have (where my improvisers at??) Anyway, all I'm saying is we need to fine tune the audience.

Tuning the audience is a great way to get on board with whatever the entertainers want you to be on board with. Like a boat captain who has to make a tight schedule, we really need you on board here, ok? It'll help for ease of understanding, ease of laughter, and trust. Trust between the audience and improviser, saying "Hey buddy, it's ok. I've got you. I'm here for you. Also send me money for this because I'm not getting paid." I mean, that's what I hear at least.

Like a long waged debate between men's undergarment preferences, I'll be brief here. What we need to do is see more positive reinforcement (the hooting and hollering and guffawing) for the good stuff and only the good stuff. That way I'd know if what I'm doing is worth it. Of course, we could perform for absolutely no one. We don't technically need an audience, except for that delusion that most improvisers have: we think that because we are improvising, people want to see it. So I guess that's it. I can shut up. We've solved it. I'll keep doing what I do. Sorry for the weird post, but it's been a weird Francis Ford Coppola days.

I'm playing Starveling in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream this weekend. Come to the show and explain to me what each person is saying. I haven't the slightest clue, and we are almost done rehearsals. Halp!!!

Do AC

Well, it's been a while, but over the weekend I got to go back to Atlantic City, which John Mulaney accurately described as "Las Vegas but with more belligerent Philadelphia fans." My girlfriend and I went specifically to see him at the Borgata, and I snorted once during his act. That should tell you everything that you need to know about that. We got to enjoy some long overdue casino time, as well as some beach hours that were really nice. The water was warm in a way that AC sometimes gets at the end of the summer. Plus, I saved a ton of money on Uber rides using Ibotta (use this code to start using Ibotta today: yyppvcf). Also, if Ibotta wants to start sponsoring this blog, all they have to do is ask! *wink*)

Let's start with the rough part of the trip. I guess I'm a masochist because for some reason I booked Greyhound tickets to/from Atlantic City. A few years ago I wrote a piece of satire on here skewering Greyhound for their "way of conducting bus rides," or lack thereof. It was called Tweets from a Greyhound and it was as accurate then as it is now. Because if the bus is an hour late out of New York, Greyhound feels no need to let you know that. Also, if you buy a ticket from Atlantic City to New York, they don't feel the need to let you know that the bus might "fill up" and that your ticket is "for the day, not the time on the ticket." Needless to say, that bus that they carjacked and loaded us onto on the way back was Greyhound equivalent. And by Greyhound equivalent, I mean it had wheels and an engine. The buses also promise wifi, but Comcast promises wifi too, and look how well that turned out! (By the way, someone let Greyhound know that I'm not accepting their sponsorship. They can stop sending me letters. Comcast, eh, let's see how I feel.)

We stayed in an Airbnb, which ended up being delightful. It was only five walkable day blocks and one uber ride night block away from everything. The Missing Persons song should've been "Nobody Walks in AC" because at night it's gets pretty sketchy and you could become a missing person. The lady was super accommodating and we had one room upstairs to ourselves. There was another couple next door in a second room, but we didn't talk to them because we are antisocial. We had access to her house and stuff but didn't really use any of it. Airbnb is one of those things that sounds nice in theory but can really go either way. "Have I invited monsters into my house? Let's wait and see when they show up in the middle of the night." See what I mean? If Airbnb wants to sponsor the blog, however, I'd gladly sell their brand.

The casinos. Oh the casinos. An adult arcade. I'm a sucker for a good casino. It's been a long time, I think since 2015, that I'd even been to a casino. So when I sat down and immediately turned $20 into $60 at the slots, I said let's press our luck and turned the $60 back into $20. The hardest part of gambling is knowing when to stop. From then on, I went around the casino screaming "I have a system," as only a true gambling addict knows how to do. I did have a system, though. You put in $20, play it until it's above $20, cash out, then put the original $20 back in and repeat. It couldn't be more foolproof. Anyway we broke even the first two days. Foolproof! Last day, I tried to sit down at tables that I had no business playing. "If you don't know the rules, you don't have the tools," that's my motto. So I lost $120. Its fine. I budgeted $200 and stuck to it, with money to spare. Look at that. Foolproof!

And finally, the food was great. I love dining out at fancy restaurants with good food. It's one habit that my parents taught me that stuck. I can't do it everyday, unless anyone of these sponsors wants to kick in (*cough* Ibotta *cough*). But still the Borgata has a ton of nice eating establishments. We ate at the modern Japanese food place but I'm sure the others are great too. It was so dimly lit in there that I couldn't see what we ordered, but I know it turned out ok because the food was good. Our Sunday brunch was even better, and we took home a bunch of food that we ate yesterday. The leftovers were a pain to carry through the casino after brunch, but that's the price you pay for doing some last minute gambling. Well, that, and $120.

It was fun and we are ready to do it again next weekend? Oh, we can't? Why not? Ugh fine. Not next weekend, but soon. Soonish. Next year.

Area Woman Outraged That All Episodes of This Season's Game of Thrones Aren't Available to Binge Watch

Moontown, IA - A local woman, Beth Doone, could be heard screaming at HBO on the phone last night. "I pay good money for internet. Where's the rest of them?" Beth, 27, told reporters that she's "never had to wait for TV before," sighting "everything is on Netflix." Sources confirmed that she was indeed wrong; not everything is on Netflix. 

Game of Thrones airs on HBO on Sunday nights at 9:00 pm, a time when everything is supposed to be nice and quiet. Neighbors were questioned in accordance with the incident and said "It sounded like a very angry woman was being insulted." "I thought someone was in trouble." Witnesses stated that around 9:30, the woman tried to lift the TV out of the window, but couldn't get it to fit.

The police brought her in for questioning and tried to make her understand that this is a live show, which airs every week. She was eventually sedated and thrown in jail, both bail set at $10,000 dollars. The town of Moontown is once again peaceful and quiet. Beth's boyfriend, Erik, could not be reached for comment.

Help! iPhone and I Can't Get Up!

Let me tell you a little story. Monday started out like any other. I woke up on time, left the house on time, and was actually slated to make it to work earlier than I've been getting there. That's weird for me because I don't like going to work. Anyway, the thing that was a little off was that my podcasts wouldn't download to my iPhone. My p-casts, my casties, my on-the-go convos. This had me worried. "Daddy's gotta have his podcasts," I said aloud to a train full of people. Some people turned and looked. One lady shielded her child's eyes and ears from me. But I was worried.

I was using the wifi that the subway provides, which, lets be honest, is good wifi. Fun fact: the wifi is actually faster than the trains. Learned that on a Snapple cap so it has to be true. Well, the other true thing was that my cell phone was started to glitch and lag in its responsiveness. "That's even odder," I said to a nearby rat chewing on some electrical cables. He shrugged. Now, I was worried.

I then watched helplessly as my phone ran the entire gamut of problems that one could have. You name it. Screen wouldn't turn on. Screen came on all white. Background image came up stretched and distorted, no icons. Phone would not unlock. I could receive emails but only here that I was getting one. It called my ex-wife. All of the problems.

After two hard resets and a little praying, I got the phone to turn on, still with lagged responsiveness. I checked to make sure everything was ok, and lo and behold, it was, save for the fact that I lost all of my text messages. All of them except for the most recent thing you texted me and maybe something from way back in 2015 for no reason. Also, my texts recipients are now frozen in the order in which they were when The Incident occurred. Pretty weird, right? I exclaimed "F$&@ me!" at work, loud enough that a couple people looked over and one person asked "Really?"

Texts shouldn't hold any valuable information. They are just for quick bursts of thoughts and ideas. I mean, it is my preferred method of conversation, second only to podcasts, which I was able to download by lunch time, using the nearby mall's wifi (not as good as the subway).

All in all, I guess things are ok. I will need to sync my phone to my computer and update the software to see if I can get this thing back to working the way it's was designed to. I guess it had a mini stroke. Good work, Steve Jobs. You built in the option for our phones to be really lifelike and actually have strokes. What will your teams think of next. Whatever it is, it'll be different. Think different.

That's my story. Share it with your friends. Especially iPhone users. Let them know that our phones can and will fail at some point. And to not take it for granted that the most recent text conversation goes to the top. I now have to scroll to find people. But, that's life. Scrolling through until we find someone. Damnit, Jobs, you've done it again. I've had it with your life lessons. They are annoying. Please stop.

Ulterior Motives and Where to Find Them

I always try to get something out of every situation that I'm in. I don't see how someone starting out in showbiz can get anywhere without doing that. I volunteer at an improv theater, not because I have nothing better to do for five hours on a weeknight, but because if I do, I get discounted classes. So it's me being helpful, but having what you call an incentive, which I call an ulterior motive.

Webster's dictionary defines ulterior as "kept hidden in order to get a particular result" and motive as "a reason for doing something." So I always keep my reasons for doing anything hidden. That way, I can get my particular result. (My reasons are like little ninjas that I've hired; they'll kill you in the dark. I'm just kidding; they'll kill you in broad daylight too.) It's important to fact check what you write as you write it with the method thrown in. The old "show your work" model. What I just did there is essentially the 'new math' of English.

Why do I bring this up? Because it's something that we never talk about. I feel like we never ask each other the real, underlying reasons why we do what we do. There do not have to be thirteen reasons why you're doing anything, either. That's misinformation spread by the lizard people at Netflix. (Just a joke, Netflix please hire me!) It doesn't matter if the reasons are sinister or not, we just don't don't tell each other what they are. And I think that's wrong. So, I'll start. My golf clubs are now safely with we in New York City.

Here's what happened. I had been wanting my golf clubs for a long time. I know I have no time to play, but I just thought it would be a good idea to have them with me. And then I saw an opportunity. If you invite your family up to play golf with you, in the process, they have to bring you your clubs. Because your clubs won't drive up here by themselves, despite one of the clubs being a driver. It's misleading, I know. Anyway, one way to get someone to bring you something is by inviting them to bring you the thing that you want and then using it when it's gets here. It was a bit convoluted from the start, but it ended up working and now I have my clubs. Kind of a long way to go for my clubs, but plans aren't always simple, especially when they involve ulterior motives.

56 Straight

This past weekend was the Del Close Marathon, wherein the Upright Citizens Brigade holds 10 different theater stages around New York City hostage and forces them to host 56 straight hours of improv comedy. Watching 56 hours of improv is a lot like watching 2 hours of improv; it's just a little to long to watch improv.

Improv comedy comes from the brain of Del Close, a guy similar to Glenn Close, but who has actually been in more scenes with dogs. He's the biological father of modern improv (he did a 23yesandme) and the deadbeat dad of whatever the hell happens in the Triple Crown basement. Many people admire his work and have learned from his tutelage, which I've heard can be pretty intimidating. To learn from him would be like constantly trying to get your dad's approval; nearly impossible.

Once a year, the UCB takes time to recognize teams from all over the country, as well as the teams (old and new) that have originated in that fateful Gristedes basement, on their quest to make up bullshit for 20 to 30 minutes. Normally, if I want to watch white people make up bullshit for a half hour, I'd turn on C-SPAN (ohhhhh!!! Snap!!!) But the theme this year was to be "Woke!" I stayed woke by not going to sleep. I was awake Friday through Saturday and started to crash Saturday night, when time would drop out and I wouldn't know what I just watched. "The stage was empty a minute ago. Where'd all of these performers come from?"

You can't see everything. Not just because the sight lines in the UCB are awful, but because when you're at or in line for one show, you are missing another 9 shows in 9 different places. It's pretty much impossible to plan out what you want to see. Things are constantly changing. It's almost as if you have to... improvise?!?!?

I'm a celebrifile, so I love the shows with people I've heard on podcasts or seen on tv. The UCB4 (Amy Poehler, Matt Besser, Matt Walsh, Ian Roberts) are always a delight. When Horatio Sanz and Tim Meadows join, it's even better. As long as I get to see some premium shows, I'm good.

Bit shows are the stupidest things in the world. Essentially, if you have an idea, you get to do it, usually midnight to 6 am. I'm not a fan of letting people defile the stage and each other for 10 to 15 minutes, but I guess that's what constitutes a fun time these days. I don't know. If I was ever in one, I'd probably tell you to come see it.

All in all, I'd say it was another successful weekend. This year was lit, and by that I mean there was a fire in one theater and we all had to move. No one could figure out why their mimed fire extinguishers weren't working, but hey, that's the mystery of object work for ya. Many teams brought the heat, but all fell just short of this fire that happened in FIT, the fashion institute of Technology. I've heard of a hot mess before, but never like this! Anyway, I'm gonna go catch up on sleep and eat food, and I'll be back next week with a sizzling expose on ulterior motives. Should be a fun one.

P.S. I'm doing improv at The PIT tonight. Swing through.

Whole Foods for Thought

As we all know, Amazon bought Whole Foods last week for 13.7 billion dollars. When asked why, Jeff Besos said "I was hungry." Ooh, never shop when you're hungry Jeff. That's the first rule of shopping; well second, if the first rule is don't talk about shopping. Anyway, I'll argue that, a lot like the fruits and magazines and juices in the front of Whole Foods, this was an impulse buy. CEOs, they're just like us!  Except, where we say we are going to buy something from the market, they say we are going to buy the market. We better get some good Whole Foods Prime out of this or something. I don't care what, just something. 

I am glad that Besos bought Whole Foods, I just think he payed too much, almost as if he shopped at Whole Foods. For comparison, here are some other things that he could have bought with 13.7 billion dollars: 

- 163679 tesla model x's with money left over to upgrade the seats.

- 15 penthouses in 432 Park Avenue with some money left over to knock down the walls in between.

- 113,223,140 NYC MTA monthly metro cards, and still be late to work because it's the MTA, which stands for "making travel awful", with a little money left over to stop at Starbucks for a dark roast.

- 849.4 miles of Trump's border wall, although I believe Mexico is paying for it

-  4 Air Force Ones, with money left over to hire Harrison Ford to yell "Get off my plane!"

- My identity, including all of my personal information and my dignity, with 13.69999 billion left over to build 849.39938 miles of Trump's border wall.

These are just a suggestion. He is his own man. Hey, don't let me tell you how to run the most successful online store of all time. But I'm just asking "Whole Foods, really?" I would have bought Trader Joe's. I'm a sucker for frozen food. 

Let's Get This Show on the Road

Remember that I want to make a book out these posts? Well, first I had the crazy idea to  make a live show out of them, where three selected posts become monologues by me, and then teams do improv based on what they heard. Cause if it ain't improv, no one's buying. It'll be fun. It's called 700 Mondays, a la Billy Crystal's 700 Sundays and it'll be at the People's Improv Theater on the Striker main stage for your viewing pleasure at 9:30 pm tomorrow. Come on out if you can. 

This gets me to thinking. Its time that book finally comes out. Its time to get the 'ol show on the road, as they say. Well, I don't want them to toot their own horn, but they are right. By the end of this year, I will have the manuscript. Hold me to it. I need a little fire in my belly. I finally got started on writing a spec script of a TV show, so who knows? I'm feeling like I can accomplish anything. 

It's a nice feeling. I think people really respond well to those who are confident that they can accomplish anything. If you don't have confidence, fake it until you make it. If you do have confidence, make sure it's not arrogance. The two look interchangeable but beget different results. Anyway, come to the show tomorrow. I'd love to see you there. I'm confident that you will enjoy it!

I'm Feeling Spiritual

I cry at funerals. There, I said it. It doesn't even have to be the funeral of anyone that I'm close to. I'll just cry like I knew the person my entire life. I'm a bawler, what what!! I guess it means I'm sensitive or whatever (ew gross). That can be good, in moderation. "Shove it down, Charlie. Control yourself." So don't invite me to your funeral, unless you want me to cry all over you. Or do invite me. I don't care. It's your funeral.

I've been to too many funerals. It wasn't something that my parents ever shielded me from. It's like "Someone died, the funeral is Wednesday, and you're going." I had no time to say "No." I'm so used to going to funerals now that whenever I hear I'm going to one, the first thing that I instinctively ask is "Lox or corned beef?"

But it's more than that. Funerals can really put things into perspective. You hear all of these stories you've never heard, you meet people who were very special at one time or another to the deceased, and you reflect on your own life in a way that means something. We take life for granted, so it's always good to stop and take stock of what you've got. And by take stock, I mean try the chicken soup that the deceased family has generously made.

I went to a funeral/memorial service this weekend. It was the right blend of spiritual and religious. There was one psalm, and it wasn't the one you're thinking of. The rest of it was poems and heartfelt stories. They were really nice. It was like a poetry slam without the snapping. And we planted a tree next to the ashes of the deceased. That's the right way to do it, I feel.

Sorry this post wasn't "funny." (But, let's be honest, have any been?) I'm just feeling spiritual and doing some thinking. I'll snap out of it. But this is where my head is right now. Well, my head is right here, on my body, but you know what I mean. I guess I just have to go live in the woods for a week. Alright, if you need me, I'll be in the forest, by which I mean hugging one of the few trees that I can find in Brooklyn. Does anybody know if trees grow here?

*walks outside, passes a bodega, sees a small, saggy tree, and hugs it*

Bye Bye Bedstuy

Bye bye Bedstuy and hello... still Brooklyn?  (Record scratch!) That's right, I've gotten so good at moving in New York, that I've given up my pipe dream of living in the sewers of Manhattan (all I can afford) and stayed within the runty stepchild that is Brooklyn in the NYC borough family. And I've gotten so good at moving in general that I've realized something: I've become my parents.

Look, we all knew it would happen eventually, I just didn't think it would be so soon. However, if you rent a Uhaul twice within the span of one year in order to lug junk from one locale to another, you, by definition, are my parents. There is no denying that.

The only difference here is that the move was as easy as the morning we did it on: Sunday. It took approximately four hours, and I only had to pay one friend to help. Luckily, he accepts my preferred method of payment: a medium unsweetened ice tea with lemon from Dunkin' Donuts. Uhaul takes actual money and I didn't care for that.

Yesterday, I was so sore that I couldn't move until 12:00 pm. This is lame, unless you take into account the fact that I was running around all week and weekend between two apartments trying to pack and move all of my stuff. And I have a lot of stuff. We all do. But, it was a rainy Memorial Day, so it was ok for me to relax and to remember the good people who have perished in the good fight for this country. Everything that makes it possible for me to switch apartments on a whim.

The new place is great. My girlfriend is there so that's good. And we are making a room our own. My creativity is running wild. Currently, I'm working on a musical called Bye Bye Bedstuy!, which is a parody musical of Bye Bye Birdie. The only commonality between them that I can think of so far is the turtle on speed. But I'll get others. Don't worry. It's part of the process. Now, of you'll excuse me, I need to go unpack.