Laugh Lines: Conversations With Comedians Read online

  Laugh Lines

  Corey Andrew

  Laugh Lines: Conversations with Comedians

  Copyright © 2011 Corey Andrew

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of the book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-09024-5

  Illustrations by Joe Anders: Front cover (Lily Tomlin, Phyllis Diller, Don Rickles & the author), Dan Aykroyd, Jeff Foxworthy, Lisa Lampanelli, Dame Edna, “Weird Al” Yankovic, Carrot Top & Howie Mandel

  Illustrations by Kevin Duncan: Lily Tomlin, Kids in the Hall, Broken Lizard, Tim Conway, Vicki Lawrence, Larry the Cable Guy, Eric Idle, Stella, Paula Poundstone, Judd Apatow, Judy Tenuta, Seth MacFarlane, Bobcat Goldthwait, Phyllis Diller, Jeff Dunham, Cheech Marin, Kathy Griffin, & Lewis Black

  Illustration by Dave Kirk: Bob Odenkirk & David Cross

  Illustrations by Jimmy Valentine: Jim Gaffigan, Dane Cook, David Sedaris, Thomas Lennon, Mo’Nique, Paul Mooney, Andy Dick, Rudy Ray Moore, Nick Swardson, Mitch Hedberg & Chris Elliott

  Foreword

  I’ve been having chats about comedy with Kathleen Madigan for the last decade and a half—since I was a journalism student at Southern Illinois University, also her alma mater. I asked Kathleen to share her thoughts on a necessary evil in a stand-up comic’s world—being interviewed by members of the media (and why she doesn’t mind me bending her ear so much).—Corey

  “I think a lot of them are lazy. They don’t do their homework beforehand. They don’t think of good questions.

  I have to be polite. I have to be nice. It’s amazing to me. I’ll be speaking to someone from a major newspaper, who goes, ‘Um, why did you get into comedy?’ That has been answered 150 times on my Web site. Internally, I get pissed. I went to journalism school. ‘I know what you were supposed to do, motherfucker, and you didn’t do it! Now I’m gonna have to sit here and repeat everything that was available to you an hour ago.’

  I can’t even imagine. Even when I was in journalism school, tired and hung over, I would not have gone in ill-prepared into something, because I would have thought I could fuck myself.

  Now, the pay is crap. I can understand. Why would you want to work that hard for shit money? I get it. Back then, I was talking to major newspapers and radio stations and they still weren’t asking good questions.

  I appreciate the amount of knowledge you have about comedy. I say ‘Ron White’ to you; you already know who that is. I say that to other reporters; ‘Is that one of them Blue Collar guys?’ I’m not expecting everybody to know everybody, but it’s nice to talk to you, because you have knowledge of stand-up comedy, of the people involved, of what’s going on in the field.

  Your questions are different and more thought out. It’s like when I’m on the road. I can write you out the top hack 50 questions. It doesn’t go deep. It always stays way superficial.

  Your questions make me think. Their questions make me want to shove my head through a wall.”

  Kathleen Madigan, 2011

  Introduction

  Looking back, meeting a Python, a Not Ready for Prime-Time Player, half the cast of Carol Burnett and the Kids in the Hall seems a bit surreal.

  My love for comedy was introduced and heavily influenced by my father, who would let me stay up waaaaaaay after bedtime for early tastes of “Saturday Night Live” and “The Three Stooges.”

  One of my most vivid memories of him was my waking up bleary-eyed and walking to the living room to listen to him sing-a-long with Moe, Larry and Curly to “The Alphabet Song,” while enjoying a deep dish of ice cream topped with peanuts, cookies and a spoonful of frozen, crunchy peanut butter.

  Remember the song? “B-A-bay, B-E-bee, B-I-bicky-bi, B-O bo, bicky-bi bo, B-U bu, bicky bi bo bu.”

  HBO in the ’80s was a great place for a comedy-loving kid like me to find stand-up—even if I didn’t fully understand all the jokes. I loved Rodney Dangerfield’s young comedians’ specials and dreamed of one day being in front of a brick wall with a microphone.

  I interviewed these comedians over the past 15 years, beginning when I was a budding journalist in college. My friends, James Hallar and Scott Kastrup, got a kick out of meeting Rudy Ray Moore and his entourage while we were all still pups in school.

  Everyone included here were people I wanted to speak to, peel their brains a little and find out more about. I am an admirer of all contained herein because making people laugh is one of the greatest things in the world.

  I’ve only included the excerpts of the interviews that I think are insightful or amusing, which is why some are shorter—or much longer—than others.

  I hope you enjoy getting to know the 50 or so humorists in “Laugh Lines.”

  Best, Corey Andrew

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my future husband, Kendall, for his patience and love (especially during the editing process). Our babies also deserve thanks, as they snuggled on the couch with me as it was being put together. I love you, Zuni, Phoebe, Tootie and Mr. Bernie.

  Thank you

  To my wonderful friend, artist Joe Anders, who created a hilarious and eye-catching cover for this book, I owe an enormous amount of gratitude. He also drew some hysterical caricatures within. Love that Aykroyd.

  Here’s to Kevin Duncan, an amazing artist I had the privilege of collaborating with during my professional career as a newsman, and once again for this book. So many of these pieces made me laugh out loud—and almost tinkle a little.

  Thanks also go to Jimmy Valentine, who I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting in person yet. He used my interviews to create some hysterical caricatures of the comics within. That Mitch is priceless.

  I’d also like to thank Dave Kirk, a new friend, who did a charming black and white portrait of Bob and David.

  Gentlemen, I hope the words contained in this book do justice to the fine drawings within.

  A special tip of the Kangol to Katy. She knows why.

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Dedication

  Thank you

  Lily Tomlin

  Dan Aykroyd

  Kids in the Hall—Dave Foley

  Kids in the Hall—Mark McKinney

  Kids in the Hall—Scott Thompson

  Jim Gaffigan

  Kathleen Madigan

  Broken Lizard

  Dane Cook

  Don Rickles

  Lisa Lampanelli

  Tim Conway

  Vicki Lawrence

  Ron White

  Jeff Foxworthy

  Larry the Cable Guy

  Dame Edna

  David Sedaris

  Stephen Colbert & Paul Dinello

  Amy Sedaris

  David Alan Grier

  Eric Idle

  Stella: David Wain, Michael Ian Black & Michael Showalter

  David Wain

  Thomas Lennon

  Paula Poundstone

  Judd Apatow

  Bruce Vilanch

  Mo’Nique

  “Weird Al” Yankovic

  Judy Tenuta

  Seth MacFarlane

  Roseanne Barr

  Paul Mooney

  Bobcat Goldthwait

  Alison Arngrim

  Andy Dick

  Jonny McGovern

  Phyllis Diller

  Bob Odenkirk & David Cross

  Jeff Dunham

  Rudy Ray Moore

  Margaret Cho

&n
bsp; Nick Swardson

  Robert Schimmel

  Cheech Marin

  Carrot Top

  Leslie Jordan

  Kathy Griffin

  Mitch Hedberg

  Lewis Black

  Dave Attell

  Howie Mandel

  Dave Barry

  Chris Elliott

  5 minutes in a limo with George Carlin

  About the author

  Lily Tomlin

  While I was eager to chat with comic genius Lily Tomlin, I hesitated to answer her phone call.

  “One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy” rang in my head, conjuring the image of Tomlin, hair pulled tight in a bun, puckering the face of one of her most-famous creations: Ernestine, switchboard dominatrix.

  Of course, in anticipation, I also had visions of Lily as a little girl, kicking her feet back and forth in a giant rocking chair as perpetually curious tot, Edith Ann, one of dozens of characters Lily has created for the stage and screen.

  I spoke to Lily while she was touring theatres across the country, and was tickled at how genuine she was. Did I mention hilarious?

  Corey: I know you’ve been doing live shows for some time, but what is it like for you to transform from character to character onstage?

  Lily Tomlin: I did it even as a child. I was entranced by character stuff. I had a grade-school teacher who would read dialect poems before we went home on Friday. I grew up with radio, too. We didn’t get a TV ’til I was 10. There would be poems that were little scenes, little stories, and they were very character-driven. They were done in dialects: German, Russian, Yiddish, Italian, black, Swedish, and I just thought it was so funny and wonderful. That’s how radio was, too.

  I lived in an old apartment house in Detroit with lots of characters, every kind of person you could imagine. Totally changing neighborhood; always changing. My parents were Southern, came up from Kentucky to work in the factories. I grew up in basically a black neighborhood with a big Jewish contingency, too.

  We entered the neighborhood being working-class white Southerners. I was born in Detroit, but my parents were both from the South, and I went there every summer. There were well-off Jews and well-off Gentiles and middle-class Jews and middle-class Gentiles. The rich stratum peeled off. They didn’t want to be in the same neighborhood. This was back in the ’40s.

  This is hard to talk about. Don’t say, ‘back in the ’40s.’ People say, ‘What?’ They can’t even compute it.

  And, so then poor blacks come in, and my neighborhood was like the center of the universe for me. Within blocks were large houses and people with money. I went to school with some of those kids. I went to their houses. I was just socially aware. I couldn’t help it. Like an underplate of humanity of every kind.

  I knew right away that the people who were very rich really didn’t know anymore than anybody else knew. I was sort of conditioned to think they were rich because they did the right thing or they were good people. They were raised in the Christian Baptist Church. I was led to believe that people were rewarded for being good.

  Of course, I learned that wasn’t true either. I guess I was empathetic toward all of them—most of them—even ones who were half off their rockers. I was more sympathetic to them than anyone. It was a great thing to live that way. I don’t know if anyone lives that way anymore.

  Maybe in New York they do. (laughs)

  Corey: Your portrayals are very real and sympathetic. When you first started taking on male characters, was there a decision there? ‘I’m gonna go ahead and switch genders for a character.’

  Lily: I first thought I shouldn’t do men unless I can do as broad a range of men as I can women. I didn’t think it was fair. The first male character I did full out was Rick, in my first Broadway show. He was hanging out in singles bars and discos, trying to pick up girls. I thought, ‘He’s kind of easy to do.’ I haven’t really succeeded aside of doing Lud, of the pair Lud and Marie. I think Lud is fairly successful, but he’s pretty much like my dad. (laughs) So I had a lot to deal with there.

  It’s very hard to create a male character without facial hair and stuff like that. I do Lud without anything. I do characters certainly without costumes. I did Paul in ‘The Search (for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe).’ He was bodybuilding and punching a bag. If you have a good activity, you can do it.

  Everybody doesn’t sound extremely masculine anyway. It’s just how much you can make someone believe and make yourself believe.

  I have done singers. I did Pervis Hawkins, the messiah of soul. I did Tommy Velour, a Vegas combo of everybody. Those are for particular projects. Pervis was for my Presidential special, showing Lily’s broad-based support. (laughs) And Tommy was from a special about going to Vegas for the money.

  Corey: We got to hear your great singing again in ‘Prairie Home Companion.’

  Lily: That’s right. I read someone’s blog, which said, ‘Well, we know Lily can’t sing.’ I thought, ‘Golly, I worked like hell to learn that old alto part. I worked for three months every day.’ Meryl Streep sings very well and has sung many roles. Garrison Keillor even said to me, ‘You have a classic alto. In the day, you would have sung a cappella in church.’ I felt really buoyed by that. This guy said, ‘Well, we know Lily can’t sing.’ I wrote him anyway and said, ‘That’s enough to take a person’s dreams away. I planned to sing a role on Broadway someday.’

  Corey: I just saw a Newsweek cover story on extraterrestrial life. Your bag lady character Trudy’s reality could soon be our own. Are you incorporating any of that?

  Lily: I haven’t gotten into that yet, but I should, eh, because Trudy is an earth contactee. I could try. I’m glad you bring my attention to that. Sometimes you think you’ve put a theme aside, and you shouldn’t. You may have just been ahead of the curve; you need to re-plug. I don’t know what I’m saying.

  Corey: When you travel with shows like this, do you travel with Jane (Wagoner, your partner)?

  Lily: No, Jane never goes on the road. There used to be a joke with the ‘Search’ company. There were fans who’d seen ‘The Search’ many more times than she had.

  I go out with my stage manager, who’s also my lawyer. (laughs) She stopped practicing. She’s a lawyer with an interesting history: she was in the Peace Corps, and she was a special ed. teacher. And all these at different times in her life. She had some health problems with her eyes. She just stopped practicing a year or two ago. She has a hard time reading and writing briefs without a lot of extra magnification. Anyway, she’s great.

  When she was in the Peace Corps, she had written me a letter. I didn’t remember it quite 30 years later. We were reacquainted; we were working on issues up in the Bay Area. She became my lawyer. She’s been my lawyer for several years. She should have been a roadie. She shouldn’t have been a Peace Corps person or a special ed. teacher or a lawyer; she should have been a roadie.

  Corey: Has Edith’s view of the world changed much in the last 40 years?

  Lily: (laughs) That’s really shocking. Edith? Of course, she’s a child, and children are still emotionally children. The stuff around them changes, like she has to download her mother’s iPod or upload it—whatever you do. See, I don’t know. She’d be doing it for me. And all the other stuff she has to do, more modern stuff. She’s still a kid, and she’s always been a little ahead.

  Corey: Either Edith or ‘9 to 5’ had to be my first exposure to you. On ‘Sesame Street,’ did you get a chance to work with Jim Henson?

  Lily: I did, right before Jim died. In fact, I was with him just a week or two before he did die. I was shooting a thing in Disneyworld with him and the Muppets. Ernestine did. I had dinner with him and like eight days later he was dead. I don’t even know if that exhibit is still at Disneyworld.

  Corey: They still have a 3D Muppet movie there.

  Lily: On ‘Sesame Street,’ what I loved was that little baby. What’s her name? Natasha? Ernestine taught her how to use a switchboard. That was one of my favorit
e things. The guy’s lying down beneath me and has the puppet stuck up between my legs. Ernestine sitting at the switchboard and that little baby is jumping up and down on my lap. I was a puppet freak anyway as a kid. I love puppets. To me they’re absolutely real.

  Corey: Especially those.

  Lily: I’d go to Kentucky in the summers, and I was always making these little sock puppets. I would take my puppets and walk across the field to a neighbor or some relative who was bed-ridden, and I’d get down at the foot of the bed on my knees and do a puppet show for the homebound person. I was doing magnificent work, even as a child. (laughs)

  Corey: Lifelong entertainer. You do question-and-answer periods at your shows, opening yourself up to endless possibilities. Have you gotten anything that caught you off guard?

  Lily: No, not really. They’re pretty open with me, and I've never had any real fear of the audience for some reason. It always seemed like a family reunion. In Flint, one time we did have a little action, because Michael Moore’s from Flint, and they hate him or they love him.