No Joke

The first time I did proper stand-up was for 1,700 college students in Iowa. I was in my early 30’s, already a relatively successful actor whose appearances on VH1’s various I Love The… series prompted the offer. When my agent called, I said, “But I don’t do stand-up.”

He said, “They’re offering $15,000.”

I said, “I guess I’m a stand-up now.”

After that gig (which went well enough, I guess), I began doing stand-up more frequently, really devoting myself to figuring out the craft. I’d admired stand-up for years, but never thought I’d have the confidence or the skill to do it myself. I didn’t want to be another “celebrity” picking up easy checks telling show biz anecdotes and calling it stand-up, I wanted to really do the thing.

So I went to work. I started touring the country, big clubs and small, some theaters, crummy little rock venues. Arts centers. Wineries. All kinds of places. Over time, I found my voice. I learned how to craft a joke. To tell a story. To construct an hour that felt like a finished piece instead of a run of unrelated jokes. I worked really hard at it because I had to.

I’m not a natural stand-up. There are comics out there who need to get up on stage as often as possible. That’s not me. Most of my time onstage is spent thinking about how much longer I have to perform before I can get off stage. Not that I didn’t enjoy it. I did, for the most part.

I liked seeing the country, liked hanging out with other comics. I liked writing a joke and performing it that night. I even liked comedy club food. I will take a basket of crappy nachos any day of the week

Over time, though, the road began to wear on me. Too many middle airplane seats. Bad hotels. Too much time away from home. Perhaps it would still be worth it to me if I saw my audience growing. I do not. In fact, the opposite is true. The venues are getting smaller and I’m filling fewer seats within them. At a certain point, one has to ask oneself if the effort is worth it. I have determined it is not.

Which brings me to my swan song, which I have entitled First Annual Retirement Special. It’s a tongue-in-cheek acknowledgement that, while I have no current plans to ever get on a stand-up stage again, I’ve seen enough performers announce their retirements to know they’re mostly full of shit. Whatever the level of my sincerity at the moment, I am also, most likely, full of shit.

What sucks about quitting stand-up is that I think I’m better at it now than ever before. My special is good. Not mind-blowing. It’s not the kind of thing that’s going to set the comedy world on fire. It’s unlikely to even generate a mild tendril of smoke. But it’s funny and I think it’s pretty smart and the virulent racism within is so subtle, some of you may miss it altogether.

In a way, I feel like a failure. I did well with stand-up, but I never made my mark. There’s no definitive Michael Ian Black stand-up joke or special. But I think I put some smiles on some faces over the years and I suppose that’s enough.

Anyway, the special comes out next Tuesday. I think you’ll be able to watch it on various streaming platforms, although I actually have no idea which ones. If you like it, please share it with other folks. Maybe, just maybe, there will be enough interest in it to get me off the couch and back onto the stage. But I seriously doubt it. I put in my time. And it was a good time. Now, though, I’m hanging up the mic.