Why?

You may be wondering why four college grads decided to do what we do. You might think “Hey, these guys probably should have gone to grad school.” You’re probably right.

Based on some feedback I received after my last post, I feel the need to explain why we continue in such a difficult line of work. That feedback:

“I feel horrible. You must really love what you do to put up with all the crap that comes with being on the road. And if the four of you were girls, you'd have scratched each other up and blown all your money by now.”
- Miriam Stern-Kramer

I’m not sure if I agree with her gender analysis, I do think my reader has a point. Life as a touring sketch comic isn’t all tow trucks and traffic jams. In fact, sometimes we perform sketch comedy. But that’s not why I decided on this unique application of my Bachelor of Arts in European Cultural Study. It’s because of a letter I wrote in 1998.

I was then about to graduate high school, and like many others in my position, I wistfully daydreamed about my new life as an academic, wondering whether or not the amount of alcohol my body could tolerate would be considered “cool.” I sat down to write a letter, which is what we used to call e-mailing, and it was then and there that I decided that I would one day be an artist. After graduating from college and reliving the graduation party scene from The Graduate over and over again, I decided that being an artist meant being commercially successful at being an artist. By this rationale, my parents would be satisfied, and Van Gogh was an insane bum.

I didn’t want rave reviews. I didn’t want roses thrown at my feet. I didn’t want Steve Martin turning over in his grave, or Steve Martin to have died. I wanted to pay Rocco Lorenzo four hundred and seventy five dollars - which is what we used to call six hundred dollars - on the first of every month, entirely from my doing comedy. And that would show everyone who said it couldn’t be done that they were wrong. And they were. Because now, I can almost always pay my rent.

How’s that Miriam?

PS – Since there weren’t any traffic accidents in this post, I’ve attached a photo of my hand after I sliced it open transporting our disco ball to remind children of the perils of the theater.