Scot Nery is a comedy entertainer who performs a pancake juggling show around the world, works in television and film, and creates theatrical prop-oriented productions.
I’ve gotta be able to think of something. Posting something on this blog about comedy or something. here it is… I’m going to write about LA comedy life and spike it with some jokes so it’s more fun to read.
I saw shamu giving birth to a baby whale when I was a kid at sea world. I thought this was a beautiful thing and a sign that they were treating the whales really well. Then, I saw the show with freakin’ flaming hoop jumping and voluntary beaching of themselves. These whales even let a tasty child, pet their tongues. Then, I realized they could teach whales anything. “Baby whale, you swim inside the mother, bite a blood capsule, and Mamma, you push it out.” They prolly did that miracle of birth routine 7 times a day. It was prolly a dwarf whale.
Been going to a lot of standup shows and let me tell you, I feel sorry for the audiences most of the time. Why do people come to these shows? They’re irritating. A bunch of comedians gathering on a stage to spit into a mic about how sucky their comedian lives are.
Girls like to dress up like cats to be sexy, but this is crazy. Cats are not hot. I have never heard of a single human doing sex to a feline. Ladies, if you want to arouse men, try dressing up like a woman… or a horse, or a sheep, or a cantaloupe… or a jar of peanut butter, or a fist. You’ll find love in my home.
I try to become friends with the comedians, but it’s hard because I feel uncomfortable not telling them what I think of their acts. I love people and I like being clear with them even if they don’t believe my honesty. I figure most of you are the same way. Imagine if every friendship you’ve had began with that future pal’s failure to fulfill his dream.
My doctor called me to day. he said “You’re going to need penis surgery”
I was like, “Who is this?”
“I don’t have a doctor.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have penis surgery without one.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m a doctor.”
“How do I know?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Really it’s me… Dad.”
“Oh, hi Dad.”
“Gotcha. I just did that to prove how gullible you are.”
“What time’s my surgery?”
You become friends usually because you believe in them and whether they’re on a path toward a dream or just great people, you want them to succeed at everything. My situation makes it hard.
You take away racism, then comes classism, without classism, there would be no more capitalism, then jism, next prison. There will be no prison. There will be convicts of all colors running the streets and noone will step up and say, “Wait, prison, isn’t an ‘ism’ it’s an ‘ison'” because without jism, smart people won’t be born anymore.
The end result, I don’t befriend them all. There are a few who work really hard and they deserve audiences and I feel like I can be honest with them. I guess this is how normal people do friendships. I’ve always been into giving anyone a chance.
Bags of dog food look a lot like bags of charcoal, and they’re often stocked near each other. Which came first and why do they want to sabotage each other?
Been thinking a lot about the whole pass/fail aspect of performing. I like objective art — art with a goal. I guess if you’re just a performing artist, you can do whatever you want, but if you consider yourself an entertainer, you’ve kinda set yourself up with a goal.
I personally want to entertain. I have always felt that if the crowd has side conversations or doesn’t thoroughly enjoy themselves, I failed. My goal is to have the audience feel that feeling that I felt that made me feel like being in the performing field.
“Grandpa, let’s go to this movie. It looks cool.” “Terrific. What does cool mean?”
Entertaining is something I’ve worked at really hard to do well. Here are some phrases I hear regularly from performers that I consider cop-outs and kind of insults to the blue-collar side of hard work in entertainment and to audiences in general:
I’m into the controlled death situation. I’m gonna have death insurance. Forget life insurance dispose of me as cheaply as possible. A mulcher’s cheap. But death insurance means like paying a hitman to take care of you when it’s time.
What I’d like to happen is I’m in the hospital with all the tubes and wires… Neil Patrick Harris comes in as doogie howser md. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s trying to read my charts and everything is going wrong. Then, somehow he gets tangled and accidentally unplugs me. Wouldn’t it be great if my last words were “Doogie, NO!”
I think this is what I have to share. I’m not ranting nor complaining. I don’t think it will change, but this is the situation I’m in — trying to have social success in a difficult situation.