The unfortunate adventures that stand-up comedians may experience over the years are often referred to as “couch stories.” They generally contain elements of pain and embarrassment for the performer and repeating them has a cathartic effect until they become funny and tolerable. A good storytelling comedian knows pain becomes funny over time. A great story is memorable gold when riffing on the couch with a talk show host -should that welcome opportunity arise.
One of my favorite couch stories concerns a very talented and hugely funny comedian by the name of Gilbert Gottfried. (Now a favorite face on the line up of comic roasters as seen on Comedy Central.)
Gilbert is a very unique comedian from New York who delivers his material in a whiny voice while squinting his eyes. What is most unique, however, is his very original material emerges from the deep recesses of his twisted yet creative imagination. Gilbert Gottfried’s appearance is as unique as the jokes he tells. His height and weight border petite.
I was a bit star struck driving up to Milwaukee where I would be performing with Gilbert at The Comedy Café – an intimate room where the crowds are always pumped and ready to laugh. Gilbert is a true talent and I knew the three days of performing with him were going to be top-notch. One of the thrills of being a comedian is working with people whose comedy I admire.
“Hi. How are ya’? Hi, how are ya’? Nice to meet you. Good. Good.” Gilbert Gottfried made his way through the standing-room-only crowd of fans. His intended goal was the swinging door on the far side of the room that would take him to the long narrow hall that led to the green room. Head down, eyes squinting, he rarely made eye contact with those he passed.
Reaching the swinging door at the same time, we bumped into each other long enough for me to say, “Hi Gilbert. I’m Sally and I’ll be your feature act tonight.”
“Hi. Very nice. Pleasure to meet you. Good. Good.”
And those were the only words we exchanged that week. He seemed to neither see nor hear me when I ran into him again and again over the course of four days.
As a young comedian, it is very exciting to know while you are on stage your act is being watched by someone in the business you admire. It is also in the best interest of the headliner (the “star” of the show or closing act) to watch his or her opening act to ensure they do not repeat the same premises and/or jokes to the same audience. It is a type of self-preservation. As a headliner, it is humiliating to bring up a topic your opening act has explored. It is embarrassing to repeat subject matter and reduces perceived professionalism.
Gilbert Gottfried never watched my act. He wasn’t worried I’d bring up any of his very original premises. He wasn’t concerned with the possibility I might be so funny he could not follow me. He never made an effort to see my show or engage in friendly conversation with me. I was invisible to him.
Gilbert Gottfried went on stage that night and he reeled the audience in with his incredibly funny stories. He talked about the bizarre and he intrigued his fans as they listened to a personal story about how he went outside one morning and found a turtle in the radiator of his car. He talked for twenty minutes about that turtle and the audience stayed with him. Anything is possible in Gilbert Gottfried’s world. As he exited the stage, two very tall, big-breasted blondes became his moveable bookends as he made his way directly past me down the hallway and to the green room.
It had been four days since Gilbert Gottfried had acknowledged me as an acquaintance and fellow performer. In four days, I grew tired of being invisible and decided it was time for a prank that would shake Gilbert Gottfried out of his big- breasted, blonde stupor.
Saturday night, I approached Gilbert in the green room. He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. I said, “Gilbert, I’ve been opening for you all week.”
“Ah, yeah,” Gilbert responded with no expression in his voice.
“Gilbert,” I continued. “Have you watched any of my shows?”
“Ah no. I haven’t had a chance to get up there.”
“Well Gilbert, I have something to tell you that may be very important to you.”
“What? … There’s something important to me?” Gilbert leaned in closer and listened with great interest.
I continued, “You know those jokes that you tell about finding a turtle in the radiator of your car?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well Gilbert, you won’t believe this but I do jokes about finding a turtle in the radiator of MY CAR!”
Gilbert let out a loud long excruciating moan. Gilbert Gottfried grabbed his chest and fell forward on his knees yelling, “Oh my god. No! Tell me – No! Oh my god. No! It’s not true! It can’t be! Oh my god! Oh my god!”
He completed his descent until he was on all fours at my feet.
“Gilbert!” I shouted. He raised his head as he brought himself up to a genuflecting position.
“Gilbert!” I said. “It’s O.K. Get a hold of yourself. I’m only kidding!”
(I've since worked with Gilbert Gottfried at Zanies Comedy Club since this exchange and he has been much more engaging! It's an honor and fun to work with him!)
