Funnier in My Head

Dearest Rachel –

In some ways, last night had to have involved one of the more stereotypical dreams that I’ve ever had; it involved getting up in front of a crowd and speaking. but once you get into the details, it gets a little bit less conventional. That’s because I had been asked to do a stand-up comedy routine. And while you may have liked my sense of humor – seeing a lot of your dad’s in mine – that doesn’t necessarily translate to a successful career, or even a successful set. That being said, as best I can recall, it was a successful set; however, that may just be because, being a dream, everything was funnier in my head.

Still, I’ll fill you in on some bits that I can remember, and let you decide for yourself. Bear in mind that the specific topic I was called upon to deliver a monologue about is of no importance to you in your present state, but I suppose that would apply to most things one might joke about. I actually don’t know; do they have comedy up in heaven? You would think there would be things to laugh about, but I can’t imagine what.

***

“When I was asked to perform tonight, I thought my host told me I was supposed to be doing a routine about the IRA. Which I thought – and I’m sure you’d agree – was pretty strange. ‘The IRA? This is America, man; we don’t pay attention to other countries’ history – heck, we don’t even pay attention to our own. And even if you do have a lot of Irish people among your regulars, that was thirty years ago; I get that it’s no longer “too soon” to poke fun at it, but what’s the point of cracking jokes about car bombs and the like? It’s just in bad taste, man.’

“‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘Not the IRA… IRAs. Individual Retirement Accounts, y’know? You’re an accountant, and you’re retired – who better to address the topic, than someone who’s sorted the whole thing out for himself? Explain the whole thing, and add as much humor as you can, so that they can get it.’”

“‘You want me to do a bit about retirement accounts?’ The dude nods, and I’m just staring at him like he’s grown a second head…”

At this point, I think I grabbed a pint of Guinness and a shot glass of Jameson’s, and set them on my stool. I know, I know, I don’t drink in real life, but you know how dreams are. Besides, it’s not uncommon for comics to have a drink onstage – sometimes just to stay hydrated, in other case, to lubricate one’s sense of humor – so I was probably playing to that particular convention. It also a set-up to the punch line – which I know it’s bad form to explain; but considering that I’m writing you about a visual pun, I think I rather have to go into at least this much detail in this case.

The drinks arranged – and the comic ‘beat’ taken case of – I turn my attention back to the audience. “After a moment, I ask him, ‘Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather I make jokes about Irish car bombs, instead?’” at which point, I dropped the shot glass into the Guinness. Hey, if you know, you know – at least in a comedy club setting, where there’s probably a two-drink minimum, I don’t have to give away the punchline.

“Look,” I told the assembled crowd in my best DeForest Kelly voice (which, admittedly, is none too good) “I’m an accountant, dammit, not a comedian. It’s a staid, boring profession. But even I know a boring topic when I hear one. Who’s gonna find retirement investment interesting, let alone funny? Then again, if all goes according to plan, I can bore you all to sleep, and make off with the contents of the open bar and the buffet before any of you wake up.

“Hey, I gotta feed myself somehow, right?” Why this got the audience laughing, I’ve no idea; do I look like the kind of guy who could demolish an entire buffet?

You know what? …don’t answer that.

“But like I said, I’m not used to even giving presentations, let alone doing a stand-up routine like this.” Most dreams don’t wind up being this meta, where you’re still going through with the action despite being aware of – and admitting to – the absurdity of the situation.

Then again, maybe it was just another setup. “Someone told me once that, in order to try and deal with my nerves while I’m up here, I ought to picture my audience naked…” and I scan the room for a moment, before reaching for the Irish Car Bomb I’d prepared earlier and taking a big gulp of it (which I don’t think you’re supposed to do – Guinness is meant to be sipped and enjoyed, not that I’d be any good at it in any event). After gasping from the effort of doing that, I took another look around the room. “Nope,” I croaked, still dealing with the effects of the drink, “that wasn’t enough,” and I tried to down another large gulp of whiskey and stout, much to the audience’s amusement.

***

Now, to be honest, that was most of what I can remember, in terms of actual jokes and character business. I’m pretty sure that I cracked a few jokes at certain companies’ expense – you know, the types you wouldn’t want to invest in, like Disney and AB-ImBev… but really, any outfit bigger on ‘social justice’ than putting out a decent product or service and focusing on the bottom line – but I don’t recall the exact verbiage, so I’m not going to try to make anything up at this point. What’s odd about it all was that, after drinking in my dream, it had something of the opposite effect that it does in real life, in that it slowly caused me to gain consciousness rather than lose it. Then again, if you’re conducting yourself amid the unconscious world, would making your way to physical consciousness be the equivalent to losing consciousness there?

In any event, when I woke up, I thought I had started pretty strong, and thought you might want to hear about it. Unfortunately, I think you’re also supposed to finish with a big laugh when you’re on stage, and since this was a dream, that didn’t happen. So, you can probably rest assured that I won’t be appearing onstage at Zanies or Catch a Rising Star any time soon.

But regardless of whatever I plan to do (or whatever it about to sneak up and smack me over the head), honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.