On Monday I did a standup at an Irish bar in Santa Monica, and a few of my friends were kind enough to drop in right before I took the mic. I’m glad they came.
I did my bit, which hovered somewhere around 7 minutes, and then sat back down.
One of my friends brought a date with him, some black chick who he used to pound years ago. My last joke was about black girls. I coolly looked over at the girl and said, “So, did you like my black girl bit?” Without even glancing over at me, she replied, “No.”
Well, you can’t win ’em all, I suppose.
A few minutes later I reconvened with my two other friends out front of the bar. I asked them for their opinions.
One of them said that I had “improved 150%.” He had already seen me do a standup 3 months ago, right when I was starting out. “The first half was gold,” he added.
Then I asked for some criticism. What could I change?
They both looked at each other and it was clear they were thinking the same thing.
“Darby, you said some things that you can’t really say in today’s political climate.”
“Oh? Like what. Give me one example.”
They gave me more than one example; they gave me several.
Feminists? Don’t make fun of those guys.
Black girls? Don’t talk about the color of their vaginas.
Towel-head terrorists? Don’t even say that phrase.
“Who does that even offend? The ‘towel-headed community’?”
“You can’t say that, Darby.”
“But why can’t I talk about these things? This is deliberately what I set out to do; push people’s buttons,” I plead.
“But you gotta be better with the set-up, then. Or just not sound so mean.”
Did I sound mean?
“Be self-depreciating if you wanna talk about these things.”
That’s what I had tried to do. My joke about feminists was that they are always complaining that “Mrs. Claus should be the one to deliver the presents… or something. Whatever their cause is, I’m not sure. But they love to complain.”
That’s self-depreciating, isn’t it? It makes me look like the retard for not knowing anything about feminism. Hell, I could even say, “We get it feminists, equal rights for all horses, no matter how gay they are.” And then I’m the one who looks like a dummy, since I’m not educated to popular people’s movements, and am confusing PETA and feminism.
Even though I’m new to this, it’s tough trying to come up with an act that would be considered “safe” in all environments. And it’s tough to really give a damn as well. Standup comedy to me is a place where all speech should be protected, and even the most ludicrous of statements can be made with the tacit understanding that this is all comedy. Everything up there is a joke. Nobody is preaching. (At least, I’m not).
TV and radio has censors, who tell you what you can and can’t say on that medium. Standup comedy, in theory, does not. But this medium is in danger. In danger from a society who gets “triggered” and takes everything you say at face value, even when you are clearly there to get laughs. There is no governing body dictating what you can and can’t say on a comedy stage at an Irish bar in Santa Monica on a Monday night. But that does not mean that the censors will not be there this time, or the next. The public has become the censors. We are stifling our own speech in the name of… “equality.”
Now I will say that I’ve considered changing things in my act since my friends had this discussion with me…
But I simply cannot do that. It’s not in my nature. I have too many big things I want to discuss. Things that are decidedly un-PC. Things like “trannys” and “midgets” and “choking babies out”. I’m just gonna keep going with my act. And when I go crashing into a tree and erupt into a huge ball of flames, I’ll let you guys know all about it.
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