A Stranded Passenger

Friday August 17^th, 2012 – Fox Lake, IL

   Sometimes I wonder where my home planet really is. It has never felt like Earth was it, and it’s like I’m a stranded passenger killing time waiting for the connecting flight to my real home. I am stuck here against my will, and no matter how hard I try to blend in I just can’t make it happen.

   Today was a perfect example. There’s a Facebook group of Chicago comedians that somebody asked me to be a part of, so I signed up. I’m a member of several of these groups, and most are a forum for new comics to get information about new places to perform and to exchange contacts.

   I probably should pay them more attention, but I don’t. Most of those who spend valuable time making three dozen posts a day aren’t making a living at comedy, they’re only complaining why they aren’t. Once in a while a topic comes up that I feel I can offer some solid information about, so I do. I do it because I know a lot of young comics read it, and I want to help them get better.

   I don’t know why I feel such a compulsion to do this, but I do. There weren’t a lot who helped me when I was starting, and those who did surely didn’t volunteer any information. I had to seek it out myself, and I did. Those who did help were few and far between, but I sure appreciated it.

   There really isn’t any reason why I need to be so free with my dispensing of information, other than I feel it’s the right thing to do. I’m not getting paid for it, and I am not looking for anything other than the opportunity to help some kids coming up the ranks looking to learn about comedy.

   I would have loved to have the lifetime of knowledge of a veteran comedian at my disposal as I was starting out. I wanted to learn all I could about anything having to do with comedy and show business in general, and there were precious few places I could go to get it. That’s why I made so many stupid mistakes on my way up - some of which I’m still paying for. Nobody educated me.

   One would think some kid starting out would be grateful for the gift of someone’s hard earned experience laid out in bite sized chunks for them to digest, but that’s not always the case. There’s a faction of young punks who have taken it upon themselves to start mocking my posts, which is their right I guess, but they’re very mean spirited and try to make it personal. I find this needless.

   Disagreeing with what I say or choosing to ignore it is fine, but why the need to make personal attacks? I am about the last person on the planet to go toe to toe with in an insult contest, and I’m more than able to defend myself either in person or in print. These idiots have no idea what they are doing or who they’re doing it with, and I don’t really care to waste my time dealing with it.

   I happened to shoot back with a little kick recently, and it ignited all kinds of response from all directions and really rattled some cages. Everyone thinks they know everything about everything when it comes to comedy, when in fact none of us do. I certainly don’t, and I admit to it freely.

   All I wanted was to pass my knowledge forward, not make myself a source of mockery. I don’t get how this planet works, and I hope my connecting flight gets here soon. I’m ready to go home.

Posted via email from Dobie Maxwell's "Dented Can" Diary