Stand-up comedy is serious business. It takes stark honesty, diligent practice, and a sharp attention to life’s details. More than all of these things, it takes guts. It is definitely not for the faint of heart. I tried stand-up a few times. A few people have asked when I might “get up there again,” but I haven’t found the courage to do it yet. It scares the ever-living shit out of me (and I do improv on a weekly basis, so that’s saying something). So it is with great admiration and esteem that I prepare to judge their work and relate the tale of my most recent journey into the heart of darkness: local stand-up comedy night.
Let’s not kid ourselves: One of the keys to a successful comedy night is a good drink special. Memphis on Main offers The Loose Tap every Wednesday night for the C-U Comedy Showcase. You’ll get a 24-ounce mason jar of mystery beer for $3. If a glass of beer isn’t your cup of tea, get yourself a rail drink for $2. There’s free popcorn to boot, so, at the end of the night, you’ll see an hour of free comedy, get yourself a snack, and have a cold drink for under $5.
On this particular evening, Jesse Tuttle is our host, and his energy is as good as his timing. He knows how to work the crowd. Tonight’s performers have been tested at Comedy Karaoke, an open mic show also hosted by C-U Comedy. If stand-ups do well at Comedy Karaoke (as these brave souls have), they’re invited to the Showcase. Tuttle cheerfully asks the audience to be polite and kind: no heckling, no phones, and minimal table talk, please.
The Tuttle brothers run a class joint, and therefore the call for politeness is issued to the night’s stand-ups as well. Before and after their sets at the Showcase, comedians are asked to stay for the entire night to give support to other comedians. They must keep their material original and sound — no shock humor. Don’t get me wrong, these comics aren’t afraid to let things get hairy. But if you’re going to make an outrageous statement, it should be based on something more than receiving gasps and groans. (That’s just my opinion, and I imagine it’s theirs as well.)
Drew Zimmerman is up first. He is a first timer at Memphis on Main. He talks about his college days as the “smartest person in a room full of people who could beat [him] up.” It’s clear that he’s a little unnerved, but I expect he’ll shake that off the next time he’s on the Memphis stage.
Drew is followed by (full disclosure) my roommate and improv colleague, Mikel Matthews (pictured right). I won’t say much about his set because it’s a huge conflict of interest, and I’m chock full of integrity. I will say that he tells a rather cute story about one of his students, an autistic boy with a cartoon obsession. This particular young man talks exactly like a carnival barker, and Matthews delivers the affectation with great endearment. In the story, the student has been given a standing ovation at the annual school talent show; the anecdote ends with the triumphant boy announcing smugly, “Dey loved me.”
Jason Dockins (pictured left) is another improv mate and the creator of Stumbling Through Tuesdays. He delivers his special brand of quiet humor with both confidence and spastic nervousness. Dockins talks about his “permanent girlfriend” and their cat, Inspector Meowman of the Night Brigade. He describes what he thought should have been an open-and-shut case: The Mystery of Who Threw Up Cat Food All Over My Clothes? At the end of his set, Jason admits to sometimes panicking on stage. Just as these words escape his lips, the pizza oven behind the bar lets out a clear DING! Everyone hears it. Without missing a beat, Jason wonders aloud if “an angel just got its wings because [he] admitted [he’s] mentally unstable.” Sharp attention is what makes Jason Dockins a superior (if amateur) comic. If he weren’t always reeling, always collecting, that last little chestnut may have eluded him.
The next performer is the other half of C-U Comedy, Justin Tuttle (below, right), who shares his recent adventures in babysitting. His friend had trusted him enough to make pizza 
rolls without screwing them up and poisoning her child. Tuttle points out how insulting a thing that is to say. “Pizza rolls are the perfect food for a broken home,” he observes, and I don’t know who wouldn’t agree.
The next comic, David Rader, is fresh and natural on stage. He goes through “the holidays” by listing the seasonal junk we eat during their passing: turkey, chocolate, Shamrock Shakes, Cadbury Eggs, and Fourth of July BBQ. David finishes with a dry remark: “I better finish up real quick, ’cause hearing me talk about my life out loud makes me wanna drink more.” I don’t blame him; this art form is brutal.
Speaking of brutal … Nick Martin sure lays into the Catholics. He’s pretty disgusting and admits to “going too far.” He is very funny though. His most effective material is also his most innocent. I find myself chuckling at simple wordplay, like when he combines “pope” and “applicants” to coin the term “popelicants.” Nick has a youthful quality he should exploit, being ever mindful of the tendency to cross over from boyish to immature.
Around this time in the night’s proceedings, I notice a certain young man — a regular at this event — who walks around, intermittently, through the crowd. Whenever there is a big laugh during the show, he continues walking and lets out a sarcastic, “Ha ha ha!” To this young man, I’d like to say this: I don’t know if you’re reading this but … stop it. You’re a dick. We know what you’re doing, and it’s shitty at best. At worst, it can prevent you from ever being invited on stage.
Jesse Tuttle (pictured left), back on stage, wants to know if you’ve ever shaved your junk. (Yes, I should say, “if we’ve ever,” but I’m sure he’d be interested in your answer, too.) He has, and he’s decided, in this moment, to call a woman’s genitals her “chatter box,” which tickles me to no end. Jesse is a man of ideas. He’d like to combine Hoarders and Storage Wars for one of the most epic reality TV shows of all time. It’s a natural match, and I can’t imagine why no one’s thought of it before.
Our closer, Rich Castle, is a dirty, old man. Well, that’s what he’d have you think. (I have it on good authority that he’s a sweetheart.) He covers a lot of material, including his thoughts on meth, but I’ll offer his closing bit as my own conclusion:
Rich Castle’s Advice for the Kitchen and the Bedroom:
- Wear eye protection.
- Pre-heat your oven.
- Lubricate, lubricate, lubricate.
- Let your meat rest for five minutes.
- If it smells bad, don’t eat it.
All in all, the evening offered a lot of what you might expect from a local club’s comedy night: some big laughs, some polite chuckles, some irritating drunks, some genuinely thoughtful observations, and that one piece of popcorn on your shoe that makes you walk weird. Mostly, it offered a chance for some gutsy performers to test their mettle and try their luck. And that, in and of itself, is cause for celebration.