Firstly, I would like to thank anyone who is reading what is 100 percent definitely my very first article for Oxford Karma ever. I hope this is just the first of many to come, and that my writing style will not at all vaguely remind you of any other blogs you might find around Oklahoma.
Secondly, now that I have this platform, I would like to use it to shine some light on what I think is one of the finest comedy scenes in the Midwest.
One of the most common questions that I, and I’m assuming a lot of comedians, get is, “What made you want to do comedy?” There are long and short answers to this, depending on how far back into our childhoods you’d want to dive, but the absolute shortest version is almost always “someone told me I should do it because they thought I’d be good at it.”
For me, that person was Twitter.
I joined Twitter fairly early (February 2007) and was just as clueless as everyone else that didn’t know why someone wanted to build an entire website around Facebook statuses. This was before iPhones even existed. I was 20 years old, in college, posting 140 characters at a time using my Palm Treo (RIP). I was desperate for attention because I thought I was interesting. I was pompous enough to think that anyone would care to keep tabs on me and how drunk I was getting all the time. I was seeking an outlet to showcase myself. I was an asshole, really bad at Twitter, and had an out of control hubris.
Eventually, in 2008, I discovered a community of amateur “comedians” who were posting some of the funniest things I had ever read in my life. I put the word “comedians” in quotes because most of them were not; they were designers, salespeople, writers, and PR pros. They were simply posting humorous observations that popped into their heads, and they all connected with each other through a now-defunct website called “Favrd.”
I fell in love with this style of output and it completely changed the way I was using Twitter. I stopped tweeting as much about my drunken stupors and started to actually write jokes. I wanted these people to notice me. I made some pretty great Twitter-friends, some that I still talk to in 2015, during this time. This was when Twitter was at its best, in my opinion. Their insights and wit made me follow the 2008 election cycle much closer than I would have otherwise, just so I could keep up with the zeitgeist of their jokes. The people on Favrd were humble, smart, and nice. My definition of “cool” changed because of them. I grew up a lot during this time period.
Eventually, I was getting pretty OK with how my jokes were being received online. People would manually retweet them (this was before RTs were a real thing) and send me direct messages asking me if I was some sort of comedian. This gave me the confidence I needed to get on stage and try it live for the first time.
I didn’t tell any of my friends that I was planning on trying to perform at an open mic. I was worried that they would show up to watch and that I would bomb in front of them, only to be forever-embarrassed. Instead, I quietly slipped out of work early one day and went to the Loony Bin in northwest OKC. It was, and still is, the only true comedy club in Oklahoma City.
I was nervous because I had looked at the OKCComedy Facebook page to find out when to arrive, how to sign up, etc. I wasn’t even sure what OKCComedy was/did at the time, but I could deduce by the name that they had something to do with something comedic.
I’ll never forget that when I looked at their page, I saw they had posted something about a comedy contest that had recently happened in Tulsa, and that some guy called “Bradchad Porter” had won said contest. I suddenly built this guy up in my mind to be some sort of professional comedy hero, based solely on this post alone. I assumed he must have been a super-rich, almost-famous comedian that I just had not heard of yet. He was the valedictorian of Oklahoma stand-up, I thought.
I got to the Loony Bin that day, and of course the first person I nervously talk to after signing up for the open mic was Bradchad Porter. I was incorrectly starstruck by this guy that I knew nothing about, and tried to be super-cool around him so he wouldn’t notice it. He was not at all as I had imagined him; he was balder, obviously less rich, and angrier than I would have thought. He was very funny, though.
The only jokes I had ever written up to that point were on Twitter, and so by default they were all one-liners. I literally took my phone up on stage with me, and read my tweets to an audience of about 60 people. They laughed. It went really well.
It would have been easy for me to just relax and be happy that I got over the first hump, but I couldn’t do that. I made more false assumptions. I thought that since they laughed at me, I was going to be the next Comedy Messiah. The rush of having a good set went immediately to my head. I had performed for a lifetime total of four minutes on stage, and was already scheming about how I could quit my job to start doing this full-time.
I think Bradchad knew I was feeling a bit cocky. He came up to me after my set to tell me that I did OK, and that I should come down to Norman the following Tuesday night so I could do the open-mic at Othello’s on Campus Corner.
(Fun fact for anyone who is considering trying open-mic comedy: The Loony Bin is considered an “easy” room. The people who are there paid money to laugh, so they’re going to laugh at almost anything, even if it sucks. It took me about a year to figure this out.)
My nerves about bombing in front of my friends had reversed themselves, and I was now inviting everyone I knew to come watch me burn Othello’s to the ground with my stupid Twitter-jokes.
A lot of my friends showed up that night to watch me eat so much shit and bomb so hard. It was one of the most humiliating things I have ever endured. I couldn’t fathom why I had done so well before and so poorly now. It was the first time I had ever experienced complete silence from a room full of people where there was supposed to be laughter. I was humbled and embarrassed. I was happy that I hadn’t turned in my two-week notice, and knew that there was a lot of work to be done. I don’t think Bradchad intentionally set me up for failure, but I have certainly held it against him all these years. That’s why I try to book him on the worst shows possible now.
(Fun fact for anyone who is considering trying open-mic comedy: Othello’s is considered a “tough” room. The people who are there did not pay money to laugh, so they’re mostly drunk college kids that are there to watch basketball and don’t give a shit about whatever is happening on stage. These types of environments are the ones that are most essential to becoming a good comedian. Once you can win over Othello’s, you should be able to win over just about anyone else.)
That was almost six years ago. And in the time since, I have had some of the best nights of my life telling jokes. I’ve been able to meet some of the craziest/funniest people in the world and build a network of great friends right here in OKC because of how much our comedy scene has blossomed. My outlet switched from trying to be funny for strangers across the country on a website to strangers across the state in a venue. A community began to emerge in Oklahoma. When I started, there were about 10-12 people who were performing on a regular basis, and now I would guess that number to be closer to 75. The comedy scene has grown just as fast, if not faster, than Oklahoma City itself.
OKCComedy has brought a lot of A-list comedians to town over that time, including Marc Maron, Kyle Kinane (3x), Hannibal Burress, DC Pierson, The Sklar Brothers, Todd Barry (2x), and Tig Notaro, among plenty of others. They also have Maria Bamford (again) and Brian Posehn on the upcoming list for early 2015. Details and tickets for those shows can be purchased on their website.
There are also a lot of standing weekly/monthly local shows that are happening all over OKC that a lot of people probably don’t know about. Those include open mics for people wanting to try comedy:
— Every Wednesday at the Loony Bin (open mic signup at 6:30 p.m.)
— Every Monday “Public Access” at District House (open mic signup at 7:30 p.m.)
— Every Tuesday at Othello’s in Norman (open mic signup at 9 p.m.)
— Every Sunday at JJ’s Alley in Bricktown (open mic signup at 6 p.m.)
And booked showcases for people wanting to watch comedy:
— Every Wednesday-Saturday at the Loony Bin (show times vary, check their website)
— Every second Thursday at The Speakeasy (9 p.m.)
— Every second Friday at Sauced on Paseo (9 p.m.)
— Every second Friday at The Parish for Live on the Plaza (10 p.m.)
Everything I just listed above, except for the Loony Bin shows, are totally free to the public.
Trust me when I say that a majority of the comics here are really funny, and that we are constantly making each other better. We have developed an awesome community that deserves to be seen, so I hope that if you’ve ever been even a little bit curious about how comedy works around here that you’ll come by a show and see how right I am for yourself.
(I have also created a Spotify playlist of a few comedians you can catch around OKC in case you still don’t believe me.)
