Dan Fisher Comedy

The new Pope, pictured here in a 2005 photo, was elected by the Papal Conclave today.

Vatican City – Catholics around the world are stunned today as the papal conclave has reached a decision on its next pope – a Velociraptor.

White smoke poured from the Sistine Chapel, signaling that there had been a decision regarding the next leader of the Roman Catholic Church, and a cheer rose up from the many anxiously awaiting the successor to Pope Benedict who announced his resignation over a month ago.

The Raptor, an animal thought to have been dead for 75 million years, was a surprise papal candidate as many regarded the extinction of his species nearly 100,000 millennia ago a serious obstacle to his ability to lead a religious institution with 1.1 billion practitioners worldwide.

“I’m just so shocked, so excited, so mesmerized by this beautiful creature that will be our leader,” said a teary eyed Gino Mazzabucci, a 52-year-old Roman Catholic from Italy. “I’m aware that they’re considered a deadly hunter and scavenger from millions of years ago, but hey, we have a leader,” added Mazzabucci.

But the election of the insanely dangerous Raptor thought to have last existed during the Late Cretaceous Epoch and who will take office in the coming days following his election, was not without controversy.

“We knew we had to elect him after he killed a bunch of us,” said Tarcisio Bertone, current Camerlengo of the Church.

Of the 120 members in the College of Cardinals that went into the Sistine Chapel earlier this week, only 88 have left with their lives, most of the survivors treated for severe cuts from the Velociraptor’s famous Sickle Claw, a razor sharp talon with the ability to slice through the abdomen of its prey located on each foot.

“It was a really gruesome scene,” said Cardinal Raymond Leo Burke, Archbishop Emeritus of St. Louis. “Many of us were sliced or bitten, someone grabbed a torch from the wall trying to ward off the animal. I think that may have been the black smoke you all saw. But can I just say how nice it is to have our leader all set and ready to preside over us?”

Moments later, Cardinal Burke was treated for severe blood loss.

Many others in St. Peter’s Square found themselves running for safety upon the release of the Raptor who burst onto the square, mauling and slashing at the closest people, interrupting a barrage of cheers and celebration.

“I wanted to celebrate, but then I saw the Raptor disembowel a guy near me, I think this guy is gonna be a real firecracker,” laughed Michael Forrester, a British national who traveled to Rome to view the election of the new pope.

The Raptor’s unorthodox style has been questioned by some who think he may have been elected as a result of political favoritism.

“I can assure you, he was elected fairly, and also because he mauled a bunch of us to death,” said Karl Josef Becker, a German Cardinal. “But I gotta tell ya,” added Becker, “I think this guy is going to really turn some people onto Catholicism.” Becker then dabbed a deep gash on his shoulder with a white rag. “Come to think of it, I can’t wait to see what’s in store.”

“I’m very excited to have our new pope,” said Stanislaw Rylko while lying on a stretcher. Rylko was considered a front runner for the position prior to the election of the deadly Velociraptor. “But boy, what a surprise,” he chuckled before violently vomiting blood. “I will serve him in whatever capacity he needs,” Rylko said before paramedics collected his intestines and placed him on an emergency medical helicopter.

Several of the members congregating in St. Peter’s Square ran forward in an attempt to touch the violent bloodthirsty predator.

“He touched me, I am truly blessed!” said an unknown woman bleeding profusely from a tear in her carotid artery. “Hail the new Pope!” she added before expiring on the street.

The new Pope will be unavailable until later in the week, most likely when he is finished devouring those left in the streets, unaware of the predators hunting and scavenging capabilities.

117TeoBit

I am a big fan of Jim Norton. He’s a very funny comedian that I first heard of by listening to Opie and Anthony when they were broadcast in mornings on 103.3 The Edge. I’ve seen him twice now, and he’s always done a lot of new stuff, which isn’t that important to me as a comedy fan. I could see comics do old bits over and over and probably not get sick of it, unless the bit sucks, then I’d get sick of it.

http://artvoice.com/issues/v11n51/comedy_interview

Here’s some stuff I put on Youtube. I hope you like it TEE HEE

Everyone’s ass loves advice. I want to help you. Leave a question for me on ANY TOPIC in which you are looking for advice, and I will get back to you in the next post. Sounds great, me!

Let me just start by saying comedy is the worst and people who do it are stupid.

Let me also start by saying I love comedy and I am very stupid.

The worst show I’ve ever done occurred during the best weekend I’ve ever had in comedy in my life and I still think about it to this day even though it was only in January and also I am insane.

In September 2011, my friend Matt Bergman, who is the first Buffalo comedian I knew existed after seeing him at a competition and who was very hilarious and who I then saw open for Dave Attell and Mike Birbiglia and Bill Burr so when I became friends with him I thought I had made it in comedy. Quickly, I started to hate him and learned he is a terrible human being. I’m completely joking, I don’t hate him at all although he is a terrible human being. So Matt calls me and asks if I’d like to perform with him at the US Coast Guard academy in Connecticut with him and Jamie Lissow who is terribly hilarious and who did a stand up show at Canisius College when I was a sophomore there and who gave me a free CD and who is hilarious.

I said yes ENTHUSIASTICALLY.

When it was time to go, Matt and I drove out to Connecticut, where he said “Hey good news, Saturday night we have a show near Albany, if Jamie can’t headline, I’m going to headline, and you can do time.  No pay, but at least you get stage time.”  I was so in.  You have no idea how in I was.

We got to the hotel in Connecticut, it was awesome, huge, and filled with military personnel.  Matt and I were the weakest people in the hotel, both mentally and physically.  Jamie is very strong, so he is not included in the weakness Olympics in which Matt and I were gold medalists.

To perform at the US Coast Guard Academy, there are certain rules a comedian must follow.  You must not swear, discuss sex, religion, race,US government policy, or criticize the US military.  An artist and performer is not bound by restrictions and would never bow to the whim of some man in a stuffy office sitting in a cubicle going over maps and thinking he has the power to influence a performance, but I happily accepted their terms.

The show was absolutely awesome, over 300 US Coast Guard cadets attended, and laughed heartily.

The content restrictions they told us about?  Following their rules forced me to re-envision a few of my jokes and I believe made them better, funnier, stronger.  After the show, Matt, Jamie and I drank wine in the hotel and watched comedy until the morning.  It was awesome in every way.

Plus, the US military certainly paid us well.

ON TO THE NEXT SHOW! Or The Eagle On The Breeze

It turned out Jamie was unable to headline the show after all, and I was to take Matt’s spot as he moved up to the headliner spot.  We arrived at the hotel, which was a drive up motel, and that smelled like cleaning supplies which had been used to cover up the scent of several hookers corpses and that was doing a terrible job.

The show was at an Elk’s Lodge, and I had a funny feeling about it all day.  There were no content restrictions.  Still, I had trouble napping, and stared at my set until it was burned into my mind.  Matt and I ate terrible food from a local grocery store which was short-staffed, probably because the cashiers had recently been murdered at our hotel doing their “side job.”  I felt sick, but it wasn’t food related.

We arrived at the show, the parking lot was full of trucks.  There wasn’t a single car.  I started to feel worse.

We met the person who hired us.  She was very nice and seemed very excited to do the show with us.  I felt better.

She got on stage, the house was packed.  I felt better.

She was crushing.  Huge laughs, the crowd was hot.  I felt the best.

She brought me up.  I was nervous but felt confident that if she had done well, so could I.

I am an eagle, soaring on the height of the strongest breeze, a fattened vole in my beak, a tree lined valley beneath me.  I let out a proud squeal, ready for anything.

I greeted the crowd, said I hoped their fundraiser raised a lot of funds, and started into my first joke.  It didn’t get a very big laugh.  I felt bad.

I then did my second joke, something I thought was strong.  It didn’t get a laugh.  In fact, it got LESS of a laugh than the first one.  I felt myself starting to panic.

The fattened vole I had deftly plucked from the ground somehow slipped from my beak.  My keen eyes watched it fall to the ground.  I knew I wouldn’t find it.

I did my third joke, but by now, my voice wasn’t as strong, my mouth dry, I had begun to sweat.  I felt sick.  I knew there was no going back.  People had begun to get up to head to the bar.  A lone man in a wrestling t shirt was smiling and laughing at my jokes.  This made me feel worse.

I am hungry.  I search the forest floor for another meal.  Nothing to be found.  My keen eyes catch a flicker near the horizon.  Smoke is filling the sky.  I understand that the forest is on fire.  Panicked, I head towards my nest, frightened for my offspring.

Matt is in the back of the room, he holds up his cell phone, waving it frantically.  I know that this means I should get off stage, abandon ship, accept that my losses, retreat to the green room, give up on this show, it ain’t workin out kid.  If it was gonna happen for you it would have happened by now, that sort of thing.

I finished up, thanked them as politely as possible, and accepted a depressing smattering of applause that was more ceremonial than sincere.  The worst part was, it was Matt’s turn to go up on stage, I’d have to wait to discuss my failure with him.  Our host skillfully go the crowd laughing again.

I sat in the green room, which was more of a side room meant for Elk club meetings, and sat in a chair staring straight ahead.  Our host’s husband sat in the room with me, not saying anything, knowing there was nothing he could say, knowing I simply needed to marinade in my failure, that this was something that happens to comedians and that no mater how painful it was, I just needed to be alone.  No consolation necessary.

I find the nest, my recently hatched offspring frantically searching the sky for me; The Protector.  I gently use my talons to lift the pair from the nest.  We fly high above the forest, searching for a place to land, somewhere safe.

I was unable to think straight or sit still.  I walked around the room, dialing friends, needing to get the poison from the awfulness I had shot into myself out of me.  I called my cousin Andrew who is a comic in New York City, and Matt Wayne, also in New York.  They both told me the same thing; “Fuck those people, you’ll laugh about this someday.”  I felt better.

Matt was on stage.  He was killing.  Huge laughs, crowd completely on his side.  It simultaneously made me happy and sad.  I was glad the show was going well, but sad that I somehow couldn’t get laughs out of a clearly hot comedy crowd.

What had I done wrong?  How could I be such a bad comedian tonight when the night before I had a room of US Coast Guard Cadets howling?  I had gone from superhuman to super piece of dog shit in 24 hours.

The sky is black, I am frantically searching for a spot that isn’t on fire, a branch, anything.  In the distance, I see blue sky, but it is far.  I beat my wings faster.

The host got off stage and told me I needed to be “ready to follow anyone.”  It wasn’t that she had buried me, I had followed people who crushed before.  I usually prefer that as it allows you to ride a wave of comedy laughter that can often make your set better, easier.  For some reason, the crowd didn’t like me.  Didn’t think I was funny, and had decided not to laugh.

After Matt got off stage, I walked to his car and waited. There was no need for me to hang out in there, the members of the audience’s hateful eye on me.  It was kind of late, 11 PM ish.  Matt got to the car and we drove to the hotel.  A car with tinted windows sat in the parking lot.

“I don’t want to stay the night here man,” I said.  Matt agreed and we decided to drive across the state back to Buffalo in one night.

We discussed my set and settled on the possibility that I had waited too long to get into my jokes, and that maybe my first joke sounded mean.  I think part of it was that our host felt the need to emphasize the importance of “credits.”  She told the crowd that I had been on Comedy Central and Conan, and neither of these things are true.  Why do that, I still wonder to myself.  Why lie to a crowd?  I don’t have any television credits, but why does that matter?  I’ve still entertained crowds, gotten big laughs,  felt good about myself and my jokes.  I think her telling the crowd that I had been on TV several times put expectations on me that I couldn’t live up to because I HAVE NEVER BEEN ON TV (for stand up).  And then for some reason they didn’t like me.  I wonder if I had been given a truthful introduction if I would maybe have had a better set.  But who knows?

Matt was cool enough to give me an honest interpretation of what he believe  happened during my set, told me to quickly forget it, move forward, use this night as a gauge, inspiration to be better.

I find a lake.  We land, a cleansing rain begins to fall.  Behind me, the fires die down.  My offspring peck at a few mealworms on the beach.  We will be anew here.  I will construct another nest.  A stronger one.  It will be higher than the old one.  We will be ok.  I walk into the lake, allow its waters to wash my dirty wings.  It is a new day.

My cousin was right, I am laughing about it today.  I’m glad it happened.  I mean that.  It was the most painful non-girlfriend-cheating-on-me non-death related event of my young life, but it made me work harder.  I wrote better jokes, I make it my goal to get a strong laugh as soon as I hit the stage, I keep my focus on stage, I let less things shake me.

And at least I know a few US Coast Guardsmen who have my back.

Don’t go to comedy shows?

What I mean is, DO go to comedy shows.  But please, in the name of the most high, don’t go to a comedy show if you can attribute any of the following to yourself:

-You are looking around and are a member of a bachelorette party

Bachelorette parties are an American institution for the ladies.  One of your “gurliez” is getting married and you want to celebrate locked-downedness of their vagina.  That’s important for girls becoming an “honest woman” which is important because of hormones and stuff.  The only real problem with this is these groups love to loudly celebrate with wild drinking, tiara wearing, penis shaped things, and loudness.  Again, all of that is completely ok, but not at a comedy show.  The performer shouldn’t have to contend with your group.  To be perfectly honest, you can interrupt my set if one of the group (the hottest one, preferably) has sex with me.  You know what, as long as it isn’t the fat one, I’m good.

-You are shocked when you hear things with which you disagree and feel compelled to vocalize this displeasure

There’s been a lot of this in the news.  I hate when people say “Comedians are always trying to push the envelope.”  That makes a really funny joke sound as if it were written solely to offend or shock, which is almost never the case.  Good comics simply write what they feel is funny.  If that joke is about murder, or violence, or race relations, or  rape, then so be it.

People are sensitive, which is completely ok.  Sometimes you’ll hear something that upsets you, offends you, maybe even hurts you.  If that’s the case, we’re sorry.  But that apology is very specific in its meaning: I’m sorry that I offended you does not mean I’m sorry for doing the joke.  There’s a huge difference.  Your being offended doesn’t mean I’m sorry and will never do the joke again.

Recently Daniel Tosh made blogheadlines (not an important thing at all) across the world for a rape joke he made at an audience members expense.  He joked about rape, a contentious subject, and offended a female audience member.  She immediately vocalized her disdain which most likely infuriated Tosh, who said it would be hilarious if she “got raped by like five guys right now.”  She was appalled, demanded her money back, complained to the owner, wrote a blog, and got the attention she wanted.  Here’s the thing about Tosh’s joke: it’s very funny.  In a room with 150+ people, how would five guys rape one girl?  It would never happen.  Someone would call the police, multiple people would definitely protect this girl.  He was obviously not serious.  If Daniel Tosh saw her being raped, he would certainly not laugh.  Jokes are not real, they’re intended to be funny, and that joke is funny.  It’s impossible to make someone understand that a joke is just a joke and not intended to harm, but sadly, almost no one understands this.

-You are unable to understand that you are the member of an audience at a performance

I was born in 1986, and at age twelve, I got my first job.  I was a paperboy for the Buffalo News.  Nothing happened between my birth and that.  The job required me to get up at 7 AM on weekends to deliver papers to my street.  Side note: I made something like $150 a week.  To this day, it remains my best work to pay ratio job, except comedy sometimes (VERY sometimes).  After delivering, I was unable to fall asleep, so I would watch TV until my family woke up.

This is how I began to learn about stand up comedy.

I remember watching a man stand in a room holding a microphone telling jokes and watching in amazement.  When my dad came downstairs I asked all about this, specifically; “What the hell is this guy doing?”  He explained that this man’s job was to make people laugh in a place called a “comedy club” which is specifically there JUST to be a place you can laugh all day.

I knew what I wanted to do right then and there.  Of course, I thought you could just say or do anything and people would love it, and this is because one of the comedians did a Michael Jackson impression, then ate Oreos, which is symbolism I didn’t understand at 12.

The point is, it was 1998, and this TV channel was playing late-80s early-90s era stand up wrought with crowd work, one liners, bad jokes, celebrity impressions, and a shit load of insulting the man in the front row.  To add to the craziness, I remember audience members heckling the comics on stage, which is crazy to me because if I were one of those comics, I’d despise someone for yelling out during my television opportunity.

To this day, I think comedy shows make people think of that era, that if they sit up close they will be ridiculed, and that they are encouraged to participate.  This couldn’t be more wrong.

-You can’t stop looking at your cell phone

Don’t look at your fucking phone.  We can see you.  Stop it.

-You can’t stop talking

We understand that table chatter can happen, and we even like to pretend you’re talking about how funny we are, when really we know you’re laughing about a funny meme someone put on Facebook.  You wouldn’t talk at an opera, or a play, but why would you want to go to either of those things anyway?

-You’re a selfish person who feels that they should be part of the show

Comedy shows, for whatever reason, make people feel that they can join in in some way.  Sometimes, a person may yell an addition to a joke.  For example, at a show a few months ago, I said something about America on stage, and a member yelled “Fuck yeah.”

Another time, a girl was talking loudly, I asked her to stop, and she responded “Well, you aren’t funny.”  Trust me, I WAS BEING FUNNY.

In both instances I was very annoyed.  In the former example, the guy who yelled “Fuck yeah” purely did so because he had seen Team America and was simply quoting the film’s iconic song.  Despite this, he invited himself into the show without being welcomed, and interrupted me.  I was annoyed, but since his response was meant to be friendly, I smartly elected to make a quick joke about how I love the national anthem.   And all in all, it was quickly forgotten.

In the latter, the girl was a plain bitch, idiot, moron, piece of shit, diarrhea eater, and jerk.  She was simply embarrassed that I called her out in front of her friends and about 70 other people.   A person like her is the worst kind of audience member at a comedy show you can find.  Most likely, she’s simply there because she didn’t have anything else to do, and her friends persuaded her to join.  This is already a bad situation.  She is only attending based on her not having anything else to do which ALREADY means she’s disinterested.  I think comedy is something you have to be excited for.  Her boredom, rather, her INDIFFERENCE in being there put her whole table at a disadvantage.  She immediately starting talking at the beginning of the show, and no amount of comedy talent could dissuade her otherwise.  She absolutely ruined the show for everyone, even though she was put down repeatedly and asked to stop.  It even elicited some seriously hilarious moments in the evening.  I still think she doesn’t deserve the attention.

Don’t ruin something someone is trying very hard to be good at.

Thanks, just don’t go to comedy shows.

I feel like the bucket list is really just a bunch of things you CLAIM you want to do but don’t actually want to do. Which is why you should really up the ante. Skydiving? Everyone does that. Visit Russia? Who hasn’t? Be creative and more bucket-related.

Here’s mine

–Design a better bucket (Maybe an upside down version?)

–Bucket Phillips (Shit-bucket shaped like Bucky Phillips)

–Kick the bucket soccer ball that is a soccer ball painted like a bucket

Well, I think that’s all for now.

I recently realized I’ve been binge drinking since I was about 16 or 17 years old. I’m 26 now, so that’s what? Six, seven years of drinking? Wait, it’s 10 years of drinking. (I knew how many years it was originally, but I thought it would be funny to imply that this much drinking hurts your brain. Obviously it doesn’t hurt your brain too badly since I knew the math right away). I’m lucky that when I get very drunk I still have a tiny light in myself that knows it would be a poor thing to do to drive a car.

I’ll level with you: I have driven “buzzed” a few times. I felt fine, but isn’t that what some asshole says as they stand in a court room after totaling their BMW? (I don’t drive a BMW)

Despite that light I have that says, “Dan, you’re too drunk, put your penis back in your pants and get down off the statue,” I simply don’t have a tiny speaking light that says “Maybe you simply shouldn’t drink at all.”

I wish I did.

I’ve also never damaged [much] property or started fights when I’m good and sauced up.

At this point you’re like, “So you drink, but nothing bad happens?”

While it is true that I don’t drive drunk or start fights or take dumps on people’s park/non-parked cars, I often find myself feeling ashamed of things I’ve said or done when I’m drunk. Isn’t that bad enough?

Two years ago I met a girl at a bar and immediately took a very real and terrifying liking to her. It was rare for me to feel that way and maybe kind of weird and I tried my best to “play it cool” which is something cool people are able to do. I’m not cool.

I worked up the courage to ask for her number, which she gave to me (her REAL number might I add) and I called her (sober) a few days later. We made plans to hang out. I was thrilled.

If I had met her at the right time, I would have probably asked her to my friend Ed’s wedding, but alas, it was too late, I went stag, and drank my face off. At one point I laid face-down on the dance floor for no reason. It was pretty hilarious. But I’m sure people were like, “Yeah, Dan’s been b-fucked by alcohol.”

After the reception, we continued our drunken exploits at bars.

Completely by accident, we ended up at the same bar. I remember hugging her and that’s it.

Later that night, I texted her, she told me she was at another bar and that we should meet up there. I excitedly walked to that bar. The only problem was that I had already walked the twenty minutes home. Twenty minutes later I arrived at the bar and she was gone. I dejectedly walked home from that bar.

She later told me that when we ran into one another at the first place I barely spoke, smiled a lot, and asked her how she’d been about 14 times. Could you imagine that?

Me: Hey!
Girl: Hey there!
Me: How have you been?
Girl: Great! You?
Me:
Girl: Are you…good?
Me: How have you been?

And so on.

Luckily she was a good sport and thought it was “cute” and that I “must have had a great time at that wedding.” I was embarrassed. It wasn’t the impression I wanted to leave on her, obviously.

That experience is what got me thinking that I might soon have a drinking problem. Maybe I don’t have one right now but I certainly could be on my way to homelessness and chugging Thunderbird before passing out on some kid’s plastic tricycle.

But maybe we all are.

Is my site sexual enough? If not, I will start posting pictures of my penis unless that’s not allowed on the internet. Leave a comment in the comment section “Yay or Nay” you fucking beautiful disaster.