Random Notes, February 2023

 I try not to write consecutive "random notes" blog entries, but my mind has been in varying directions.

+ President Biden had to explain in person that UFOs don't exist. The GOP (and their basic cable propaganda arms) are obsessed with an errant balloon or two that might have been sent from China. This is nothing new, either. Biden's presidency, now 25 months in, remains a mixed bag. He gets my empathy, however as he often finds himself a sane man in a crazed world. 

+ This is perhaps the most challenging year I've ever had with substitute teaching. I underestimated the behavior problem at the junior high; where the seventh grade has an immaturity problem, the eighth grade is slightly more malicious. Not helping matters is a spike of COVID cases (remember those?) and an aforementioned dearth of subs. Neighboring districts pay better, but I remain loyal to a flaw. 

+ This year marked my 10th hosting and producing the Power Couples of Improv. For newer readers, PCI is my annual showcase of Chicago improvisers that are in romantic relationships with other improvisers, doing two-person improv sets. This year's show was very strong and made a small profit, but more than anything else it's just a fun show to put together. 

I promise I'll be more focused next time. 

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Random Notes, August 2022

 Hot takes, sometimes reheated:

+ After a lengthy schnied, the Biden Administration has a modest winning streak going. After 18 months of COVID-distracted sputtering, culminating in Biden contracting the virus twice in two weeks, he's finally getting stuff done. The climate change bill might define his presidency so far, and college debt elimination was a modified campaign promise. Whether this saves him or the Democrats in '22 and '24 could either be just enough or too little, too late. 

+ What to make of the midterms? At the moment, the House of Representatives is a toss-up, but I think the Democrats will retain the U.S. Senate and then some. The GOP simply has too many vulnerable incumbents (Ron Johnson, Marco Rubio) and peculiar first-time candidates (Dr. Oz, Herschel Walker). That's not to say any of the above will get blown out, but polls are not tipping in their favor. 

+ I often tell friends that radio was my great unrequited love. Hosting and producing barprov shows is a distant second. In 2 1/2 years of COVID, Flower Shop Bangers has produced exactly one in-person show. The fact of the matter is, barprov in Chicago is more or less dead. An entire thriving scene in 2012 steadily whittled down to nothing; a lot of local pubs simply don't make money on the shows. As I write this, Dan and I are re-strategizing. Stay tuned. 

Next time: my annual NFL preview.

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Still Hiding in Plain Sight

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I had a hard time writing this one without going too much into detail:

Two weeks ago, I had to block a former improv teammate on all social media. I described my situation with his person and a non-for-profit improv organization 15 months ago. I was participating in a goofy contest for the organization via Facebook, and they commented that Funny Bones is transphobic. (This is the same person that threatened to sue and lead a boycott of a children's charity.) I deleted the comment, then they rewrote it 10 minutes later. They did the same thing on Instagram. This was my first direct interaction with this person since they were kicked out in November 2019.

I don't feel great about doing it, especially with how complicated the situation was, but it was probably the best course of action. This person was looking for a confrontation, and I know that no matter what I was going to say, they weren't going to budge. A mutual friend --a woman they dated briefly last year-- was willing to hear me out. She suggested it was argumentum ad lapidem, or "appeal to the stone." This person in question is too festering with anger from this and other situations to hear a counter-argument. The problem is them, not me. 

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 7

In case you hadn't noticed, there's still a pandemic going on.

I had no doubt in my mind that most states opened too early. Scientific experts warned of a second wave, and it's already hit the deep south (incidentally, the first states to open) and states with shrinking COVID cases are easing into opening with wariness. Governors that put the economy over their constituents are eating their words. The Gallants to these Goofuses (Goofi?) treaded lightly from the get-go, fully knowing the federal government wouldn't be much help.

Before you call me out for posting "old news," I am sharing this article from early March to remind everyone that Trump administration's response to COVID-19 was embarrassingly weak even before the entire country shuttered. Trump's legacy is now forever tainted by a crisis he refused to respond to until it was too late. If you still don't believe there's a pandemic, you're a godforsaken fool, and the Venn diagram between you and President Trump's most ardent supporters is practically one circle.

I wanted this post to be strictly about the pandemic, but it played an indirect part in the upheaval of the Chicago comedy community. Last week, iO Chicago co-founder and owner Charna Halpern shut down the improv institution after 39 years, claiming it as a COVID casualty. Perhaps, but that was only one reason: Charna was put on blast for decades of mistreatment of women, people of color, and the LGBTQ+ community. A number of talented performers refused to do business with iO and not without reason.

In the aftermath of iO's demise, a private Facebook group was launched called Chicago Improv Rebuild. I was added in the first 24 hours of its creation, but I had to put the group on mute within a day or so. The intent was noble, and some good ideas were expressed and exchanged, but this forum was dragged down in quick procession by interpersonal drama. Racism, sexism, and transphobia permeate through our comedy community, but the dialogue is dominated by people who are in love with the sound of their own voice. One person in question (long story) made me feel uncomfortable on a couple of occasions, but played the victim and resorted to character assassination. There are now at least six admins/moderators, but it still doesn't feel like there are enough adults in the room. The narcissism is too unyielding.

How am I handling things otherwise? I'm going to safely assume that any ambitious plans for the remainder of 2020 are shot. I might take a day trip to northwest Indiana, maybe to central Illinois too, but any chance of more travel will have to wait awhile. I'm receiving state unemployment benefits, while still supplementing my income with Lyft. Substitute teaching at the start of the 2020-21 school year is looking unlikely. Hosting remote comedy shows has been a nice relief, but I'm still restless and bored.

More dispatches soon. It feels good to be writing on a semi-regular basis again. Happy Fourth.

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The Second Beat

I've been on the Chicago improv scene for about nine years now. I tend to bifurcate my improv story into two parts: before and after 2013. Four years of fledgling, followed by five years of modest success. When I write my comedy biography, 2013 will be the transition from the first to the second beat.

This year marks several fifth-year anniversaries for me: the founding of Flower Shop Bangers, the creation of Stu News, the first show I ever produced, joining a house team at a prominent Chicago venue, and (most crucially) graduating from the Second City Conservatory. I also witnessed a slow upheaval in my social life that year. I had improv friends moving out east and west, a natural attrition and transition for professional actors. After realizing that improv was dominating my social interactions, I took up another hobby of sorts and make new friends that weren't performers. That, however is a story for another time.

I put that into perspective while doing coffee with my friend Bess in New York. (I previously mentioned her in my tribute to Jason Chin.) I last saw Bess in person in March 2013, before most of the aforementioned milestones had happened. There was so much to discuss and catch up on, but due to a schedule snafu we only met for 45 minutes. Bess remembered me as a persistent underdog, grasping for an opportunity. Over five years later, I was more comfortable and on firmer footing, but not leaping on auditions and new projects like I used to. She summed up her five years succinctly, but I babbled on and on. It was still a pleasant chat, but I felt bad for self-aggrandizing. Then again, I had something to boast about for once.

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Random Notes, January 2018

So much to say:

+ There is reason to believe President Trump had sexual relations with a porn actress in 2006, a year or so after he married his current wife. If this were any other president, this would be beginning of the end. Michael Wolff believes Trump is still philandering as we speak.  Alas, one year in and the Trump Administration continues to defy logic and common sense. The machine keeps chugging...

+ ...or maybe it doesn't, since we just witnessed the fourth government shutdown in the last 25 years. Trump's inherent stubbornness (and his well-established race problem) triggered the shutdown, but the weak leadership of the Democratic Party brought it to a prompt end. With more voters identifying as independents, this was a misfire by a party that can't risk making any mistakes. Giving the GOP carte blanche on DACA is not something people will forget come November.

+ I'm training to become an improv coach! After doing improv for 8 1/2 years and having performed at One Group Mind in Wicker Park for four of them, it just seemed like the next logical step. This doesn't mean I'll be coaching a team immediately after this class ends (which will be in early March) but I'm benefiting somewhat from the insight.

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Auld Lyng Syne

For my last blog entry of the year, I want to reflect and tie up loose ends. I am hardly the only person to have a rough year, though mine was a tad unique: two deaths in my immediate family, two estates, the disintegration of several friendships (including at least one that had felt dormant for years), the expensive decision to drop out of grad school, inconsistent work. At least when I broke up with my girlfriend, it was amicable. In a way, 2017 was a rebuilding year, the beginning of something new that doesn't feel tangible yet.

I did create some closure, though: I finally blocked my awful, bigoted college girlfriend on Facebook. For the last three or four years, Babs has been using an alias on social media; when she liked a photo that I posted of my sister, I felt triggered. I doubt this was a backdoor effort to reconnect --likely just circumstance-- but I still find my sister being connected to this fat racist psychotic to be inexplicable. Adios and good riddance, "Candy N. Chloe."

I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that I'm still way behind on TV, so for the second year in a row I'm forgoing my annual best-of list. The only shows I saw on a regular basis in '17 were SNL and "Last Week Tonight," and I'm at least a year behind on everything else I watch. There is at least one show that I regularly recorded on my DVR that I've given up on, simply because the backlog is too much.

On that note, I want to thank some specific people that made a tough year a little more hospitable: Dan Anderson, Marissa Robertcop, Andy Knuth, Koni Shaughnessy, Rich Johnston, Louise Loeb, Andy Heytman, Sarah Kritzman, Cari Maher, Jill Olsen, Jon-Michael Hoskinson, Brian Sebby, Yolanda Waddell, Rachel Caro, Carl Luft, my Flynn Tin Tin teammates, my sister Bridget and anyone else who helped along the way. See you all in 2018.

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I Still Resolve...

I don't put much energy into promoting this blog, and for good reason. I market myself as a comedy writer that performs improv, and this blog is an outlet for more serious matters, an opportunity to let my guard down. In the 12 1/2 years since I started this blog, I have likely seen a complete turnover in audience. I launched this blog on TV.com, and I'm sure a scant handful of people who read my missives then still read it now on Blogspot. (Its also more accessible to non-TV.com people.)

You might think from the tone of the previous paragraph that I'm quitting this blog, but I'm not (yet). 2017 has been a rough year on a personal level, one of mourning and reevaluating, one where goals have been easier said than accomplished. My clutter, both physical and intangible, is mostly still there. My mother, father, and grandmother's belongings, however are gradually getting sifted out.

I suppose my resolution now is to end 2017 on a positive note. My long-gestating solo sketch show opened this week, and even if I'm not meeting all my goals I'm still feeling pretty accomplished. Even if I do get distracted from time to time, there simply aren't enough hours in the day. I'm goal-oriented, and I feel rudderless when I'm not pursuing a new challenge.

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On Mansplaining

I attest to being a know-it-all. At varying points in my life, I've either embraced that facet of my personality or struggled mightily to reign it in. If you have a career in education,  I lean more toward being helpful than condescending, though I can see how that might get misinterpreted. My first impression can be scattershot, the pitfall of a life of social awkwardness, and when I make a positive impression its an uphill battle to sustain that.

Last weekend, an old acquaintance called me out for mansplaining on Twitter. In a tweet, she openly pondered about how Spotify developed their new yearbook playlist option, and I replied with a facetious "Um, a calendar?" Her response was vexed and not without justification; it was a lazy response. When she replied on Twitter, I DM'd her on Facebook as soon as possible to apologize. I had lost her follow, and she called me out for being condescending in the past. I couldn't remember any specific details our last Twitter interaction (I want to say it was two years prior) but I wasn't going to fight her accusation. We're still Facebook friends, at least for now.

I spent the next day or two trying to remember past instances of mansplaining, both with this woman and others. Part of me was trying to break this down from an individual standpoint, while also acknowledging my own shortcomings. Was she just in a bad place, did she confuse me for someone else, a personality clash, or was this part of a greater problem? I had met this woman through improv, and even though I try to treat collaborators, friends and acquiantances as equals, I can slip. Mansplaining, rooted in sexism, is pandemic in our community and only gradually getting resolved.

Regardless, whether or not a similar incident happens on Twitter, I will make a more conscious effort to change. For now, I'll leave her alone, and pretend the altercation never happened.

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RIP The Gorilla Tango Theater

This past Monday, the Gorilla Tango shuttered it doors. By default the best entertainment venue in Bucktown, GTT was known mostly for burlesque. It doubled as an art gallery and a playhouse, but I was acquainted and associated with GTT by improv.  I spent three seasons with the Improv Zoo coached ensemble program that Kristi McKay ran in 2012-13, and made my first leap into producing there with a variety show in October 2013.

Like a lot of people, I have mixed feelings about Gorilla Tango's demise. On one hand, I met Dan Anderson during my last season with the Improv Zoo, and Flower Shop Bangers owes its existence to a happenstance show at GTT. On the other hand, it was rather expensive to produce a show in the space (I was convinced by a flyer at the ticket desk) and "The Allard Programme" lost so much money, it took me almost two years to pay it off. Considering who assisted me with getting the show off the ground --mostly good friends, but some acquaintances too-- it was both a learning experience and a mild embarrassment.

The last time I set foot in GTT was about six months ago. I tagged along with my girlfriend Marissa and our pal Aaron to see a "Back to the Future" -themed burlesque show. These type of shows were what kept the lights on, and even though they were well-received the tickets were ridiculously expensive. They were known to sell out too, but this particular performance of "Boobs to the Future" sold maybe 12 tickets. At one point, the dancers did a bit where they begged audience members for donations. I didn't realize they were legitimately asking for tips. Rumors of apparent financial issues were going from a mumble to a holler.

The photo taken above was from the third of the four "Allard Programme" shows I hosted and produced. I only sold eight total tickets in the first two shows, so I promised that if we sold out the theater for week three, I would host part of the show in my junior high gym uniform. We fell way short of my goal, but I twirled around in my old gym suit anyway. C'est la vie.

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The Curious Case of the Tetchy Talent

A couple of weeks ago a small, independently owned Chicago performance space --a "storefront theater," if you will-- shuttered after allegations came to light regarding the treatment of a former contributor and player. This happened less than a year after another performance space shut down shop because of egregious abuse of its actors and crew. I have nothing but respect for the people that were brave enough to be vocal about what had happened, and I believe the management of these establishments deserved what was coming to them.

These two incidents, both valuable learning experiences in how not to run an artistic venue of any shape or size, reminded me of an awkward scenario that occurred this past September. Even though I don't think I did anything wrong, I felt the need to come clean about an altercation of sorts I had with another performer:

About once a month, I send out a feeler to potential acts for the show. There was a comedian/actress I was acquainted with that was doing solo material; I was going to ask if she was interested in testing material in our show, I hadn't seen her on social media recently. I had an email address, and that was it. I sent it out with a few other candidates, and within an hour I received this reply:

Stu--I am not interested in a professional or interpersonal relationship. Please respect this and don't contact me again.

I was baffled by this reply, as was Dan my business partner, who shares the account. Dan's most educated guess was that she was weirded out because I had her email. In the time that I had been acquainted with this actress (less than four years) I had never said or done anything to suggest going out on a date, nor considered doing so. I vaguely recall sending her a LinkedIn request earlier in the year, one in a binge of potential professional connections. I never considered that I have been blocked on Facebook and Twitter, without a semblance of an idea as to her rationale for doing so.

I've only been in a handful of situations before where I had some sort of falling out with other members of the Chicago comedy community. I can think of one or two scenarios where personalities clashed, but in the other cases it stemmed from miscommunication. I make a valiant effort to treat my peers as equals, and I have never been in a situation in my eight years of performing improv where I intentionally burned bridges. I attest to my social awkwardness, but no acts of malice or deceit. When it comes to booking acts, however I go in with relatively modest expectations.

As for the actress, if she doesn't want to build connections with certain members of the Chicago comedy community, then that's her decision.  If she goes on to alienate other producers and performers, than my part was a small and passive one. I might be one of many or a very singular case, I'm not sure. If I've lost one performer, than I still have a litany of comedians, improvisers, writers, and dancers whom I can still reach out to.  This community is a rich and wonderful group, and I'm proud to be part of it regardless.

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Random Notes, April 2016

On the election beat:

+ At this rate, a brokered GOP convention this summer is inevitable. Years of subtext have become context; the Republican Party, which promoted itself as the "big tent" party in the Reagan era, is as splintered as its ever been. The last of the mainline, old school conservatives, the party members that have either survived or narrowly dodged the Tea Party movement of the past decade, are hoping by default that John Kasich comes from behind to take the party's presidential nomination. It's one thing that Donald Trump's momentum has barely wavered, it's another that Ted Cruz is a palatable nominee in comparison. (Head-to-head polls aren't that favorable, either.) They might still control both houses of Congress after November 8th, but between this ungainly primary race and their holding the U.S. Supreme Court hostage, the GOP has more to lose than they think.

+ Speaking of fractured political parties, the Democrats will likely figure things out between Sec. Clinton and Sen. Sanders by August, but it's not a sure shot. Two brokered conventions would be ripe for drama but would ultimately benefit no one; it would only serve to prove political scientists right that the two-party system is outmoded and unwieldy. Where Sanders' supporters have youth and diversity to their disposal, Clinton is more appealing to moderates, independents, and (dare I say it) deep pockets. A George Soros type would have Bernie in the heart but Hillary in the brain. It would make for strange bedfellows, but a Clinton-Sanders ticket would be the Dems' best shot against Trump and the unfortunate patsy that would be his running mate.

+ I'm finally doing some traveling! Over a decade after the last time I set foot on an airplane, and four years since my last real vacation, I'm going to Houston for a few days. A good friend of mine is getting married, so I'm spending a three-day weekend in southeast Texas. After that, my duo Flower Shop Bangers will be playing the Omaha Improv Festival in mid-May. To all my far-flung readers: let me know if you're nearby, I wouldn't mind meeting up.

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What's the Frequency, Stuart?

First of all, my belated thanks to everyone who extended their condolences a few weeks ago. My family is moving on, and we appreciate the positive thoughts.

Secondly, I really haven't had a chance to explain what I've been doing or working on recently. At the moment, I'm focusing on substitute teaching; I'm considering going back to school for a secondary education degree. Right now I'm eligible to sub in about 40% of the districts in my area; a full teaching license on top of a sub license would give me full eligibility. A full-time teaching position wouldn't be bad, either.

Thirdly, I'm in a bunch of shows this month. My improv duo Flower Shop Bangers is playing the Second City in Chicago for the first time tonight at 10pm, and again next Saturday. Additionally, I'm still writing and producing; I'm hosting another "Power Couples of Improv" show on March 21, and I'm working on a solo sketch revue. If you're in or near Chicago, I hope you check out at least one of these shows.

Next Week: the story of the St. Patrick's Day Massacre.

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Stick a Fork in the Silver Spoon

I wrote my previous blog just before the South Carolina primary, where former Florida Governor (and early front-runner) Jeb Bush finally suspended his campaign. In a free-for-all primary season where big egos and bluster have eclipsed insight and experience, the son and brother of former presidents might have been the greatest punchline of all. In a party gradually being taken over by reactionaries, Bush run as a moderate. In a race of populists and first-time candidates, Bush was a seasoned pro. Where the aforementioned neophytes lead the polls, Bush proved a hapless and undesirable candidate. Asking for his brother's help was a desperate last resort. I would take pity on him, but as a pro-gun, pro-life oligarch that waffled on marriage equality, it's kind of hard to see what Bush's appeal was, even as an underdog. In a sad sort of way, he was like the mirror image of Democratic also-ran Martin O'Malley; he had some good ideas, but his campaign was doomed almost from the beginning.

For those of you reading this that are moderate conservatives and hate Donald Trump just as much as I do, this is your best hope.

Other notes:

+ Speaking of the GOP, can someone please explain to me why Dr. Ben Carson is still running?

+ For those of you in the Chicago area, I have a number of shows up coming up in March. My improv duo Flower Shop Bangers are playing the deMaat Theater at Second City (1608 N. Wells) at 10pm on March 5th and 12th. Additionally, I'm hosting a couples-themed improv show on Monday, March 21st at MCL Chicago in Lakeview. This is on top of my every-other-week gig with Kelly Machiavelli at One Group Mind; they play March 4th and 18th at 8pm. See you there!

+ If anyone was wondering, my Oscar picks are: The Revenent, Alejandro G. Inarritu, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brie Larson, Tom Hardy, Alicia Vikander, "Inside Out."

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MadFunnyWomen

My career in the radio industry ended in April 2010. During my time in radio, I noticed an unspoken yet obvious pattern of gender bias; with the exception of my college radio station at Illinois State, the overwhelming majority of my former co-workers were white males, and the on-air talent was 80 to 90% male. Less then a year after I was replaced I wrote “Pushing Air,” a comedy pilot based loosely on my experiences in the industry. One of the protagonists in my pilot was Rachel, the marketing director of a cluster of stations owned by a media conglomerate in a major Midwestern city. Rachel was the voice of reason, but stifled by an overbearing programming director; she was overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated, and because of a weak economy, stuck in a job that was beneath her tremendous skillset. That is not to say that Rachel was alone or isolated. The men in the office were frat boys with type-A personalities. The handful of women that were in the office were all just as miserable as she was. A culture of sexual harassment was implied but not directly addressed.

I didn’t write these characters to be one-dimensional ciphers, but a circumstantiated representation of how radio treats women. Programming that is marketed toward women are two parts awkward and condescending, and the majority of female on-air talent work in formats that cater to men with expendable incomes. For example, a female personality on a typical classic rock station has to look, sound and dress like an extra from “Coyote Ugly,” whether she really lives the lifestyle or not. (There’s also a culture of ageism toward women, but that’s another rant for another time.) At least one Chicago radio station has used breast augmentation as a contest prize, and another has an annual “rock girl” contest in which the winner and finalists model for a cheesecake wall calendar. The majority of radio executives would read this and argue that finding a role for women in their medium is “tricky,” and somehow defer the blame to the realities of industry consolidation.  In reality, however they’re not making an effort. I would have relished the opportunity to do anything that would have changed the “good ol’ boy” aesthetic that permeates to this day.

I thought about “Pushing Air” and my decade-plus in radio when a controversy erupted last week regarding comments made by iO co-founder Charna Halpern. In case you missed it: a few months ago, she had mentioned on Facebook that several female performers had been harassed by a manager at iO West in Los Angeles. They were afraid to say anything to Halpern for fear of being denied opportunities, or worse yet kicked out of the improv venue. She had hired a counselor at iO West, stated her lack of tolerance for sexual harassment, and name-checked iO alum Amy Poehler. Evidently, whatever she put into place was insufficient, as she posted on social media again to address the situation. In this case, the perpetrator was mentioned by name, and she gave him the shadow of a doubt. To Halpern, this accuser was a woman who “(likes) to either cause trouble or get revenge or just want attention so they make up stories… she claims I just put her off and offered her free classes.” Halpern said she would never handle such a situation in such a shallow way, adding “it’s people like this who make it difficult when a woman really has a problem-- we need to take this issue seriously and not spread lies because you didn’t make a team or for whatever reason you are angry.”

Halpern’s comments were perceived as aloof and self-serving, as if her primary objective was to protect her theaters, her employees, and her company, Yes And Productions. The response to these comments was fast-building and outraged, and rightfully so. Julia Weiss, a Chicago-based comedian/playwright and a performer at iO, delivered one of the first rebuttals: “It is unbelievably rare for women to make up stories like this to get ‘attention’ or ‘revenge.’ Perpetuating that narrative is what makes people dismiss women when they voice their experiences with harassment and abuse… while I respect that you’re taking this seriously and putting policies in place to protect women, posting something like this doesn’t foster a sense of comfort in people dealing with these issues.”

The majority of the nearly 200 comments that followed shared Weiss’ sentiments, and eventually Halpern deleted her post. The businesswoman was more concerned with the integrity of her employees, and the overwhelming rebuke was justified. There has always been an undercurrent of sexual harassment and misogyny in the improv community, especially in Chicago. Even if you weren’t directly affected, to say that the abuse has been overplayed or even non-existent is foolish and reprehensible. Halpern’s post begat a dialogue that mushroomed in size and volume on social media throughout the week. Some called for the men of the community to support and defend their female colleagues. Others shared stories of being harassed at Second City, iO, and even out of town improv festivals. One common thread in the conversation was that instructors let male students touch female students inappropriately without ramifications. Until recent years, the steps that Second City and other venues have taken to stop this have been mostly saber-rattling.

At the very least, I hope this worthy and insightful dialogue continues growing. A change in culture is badly needed, and the sooner the better. If I see any inappropriate behavior, I will gladly call it out. If you’re in a bad spot and you want to talk, I will listen. I have no justification for my own inaction, whether it was at a radio station six years ago or at an improv venue now. The number of women that make up stories of harassment and assault are a tiny minority. This is a real problem.

I’ve been a member of the Chicago improv community for going on seven years now. When the radio chapter of my life ended and I struggled to move on to something else, improv became my reason to wake up in the morning. I have always treated my classmates and teammates as equals. There are a number of bad apples within the community, not to mention a long history of misogyny, and my gut instinct was to not exacerbate the problem, but to treat my peers with dignity and respect. It’s one thing to be daring and politically incorrect, but another to disrespect your colleagues and collaborators. Improv used to be a boys’ club, and now the boys need to take accountability for their own actions. We have the power to stop this.

My 10th Anniversary Blog

Ten damn years.

When I wrote my first blog entry on the then-nascent TV.com in June 2005, I really wasn't sure what was the point. I was curious about the concept of having a blog, especially on a site where I was a prolific contributor yet also somewhat anonymous. I had my niche --SNL, classic sitcoms, late night TV-- and I made some acquaintances through that. The double-edged sword of CNet buying out TV Tome (and its forgetten sister site, Movie Tome) and the perception of selling out was what actually allowed the new site to become more of a community. We weren't just screen names and post totals on a lo-fi episode guide site, but human faces with human feelings. That layer of anonymity was gone, though some chose to hide behind some kind of veneer. These were halycon days, a period of unabashed nerdiness that lasted about five, maybe six years.

Of everyone that made TV.com hum in the later part of the 2000s, I'm one of the last remaining. I still enjoy the luxuries of being an editor --well, what's left of them, anyway-- though the forums and actual community has atrophied. Most of the people I knew on the site have become friends on other outlets of social media, and the Facebook group Return to TV.com has maintained the conversation in exile. It's not the same, but at least most of us have stayed in touch. The temptation to quit TV.com altogether ebbs and flows in my mind.

If this 10th anniversary blog doesn't sound that celebratory, I have two reasons why. First, I consider my anniversary with the site to be February 1st, 2003, when I launched my TV Tome account. Even though I've been the editor of the SNL episode guide almost immediately after the conversion, it was my contributions in the 2 1/2 years prior that earned that position. I built my status by being prolific in the SNL forum as well as the now-defunct sports discussion board, then submitting info to fill the gaps in Late Night and Late Show with David Letterman. I rose through the ranks at astonishing speed, making the leap from Level 1 to Level 7 within my first two weeks on the new site. Before the level-up system was more or less abandoned last year, I was on the cusp of Level 64, not anywhere near the all-time submission champ but still comfortably in the top 25.

My second reason is that I struggle to seperate my personal life from the half-assed veneer I created. This blog (which I "similcast" with TV.com from 2008 to 2012) became an outlet for me to discuss anything I wanted. My weekly updates are and always will be ramshackle; I'll talk politics one week, music the next, then those two plus my family the week after that. It goes without saying that my life is significantly different than when I was 20: I'm slogging through another temp job, both of my parents still have recurring health issues, I've been living at home a lot longer than planned, and overall I'm just forcing myself through the peaks and valleys of adulthood. On the other hand, I'm far less introverted than I was 10 years ago, my dabbles in writing, comedy and improv have become almost a part-time job onto itself, and I've finally come to terms with the fact that my radio aspirations were never meant to be. (I haven't totally ruled out voiceover work.)

Navel-gazing aside, I want to thank anyone and everyone who has ever read my blog for commenting and interacting over the past decade. I am grateful for the support of my friends and family, including the people I've never met in person that have taken a foothold in my universe. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think anyone was interested, and you've been vigilant and then some.

Ten damn years.

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Jason Chin 1968-2015

I am in complete disbelief.



Several hours after I heard the news, I still can't comprehend the fact that Jason Chin is dead. As I write this, details are still sketchy, but what happened was relatively sudden. At the same time, I figured it would be best to process my raw emotions into something meaningful:



I first met Jason Chin at iO Chicago somewhere around mid- to late 2010. I never had him as an instructor; he was just always around, either playing in Armando, sitting in with Deep Schwa --a legendary house team that dates back to the mid-90s-- or talking comic books with the bartenders. It wasn't until I became an intern a few months later that I got better acquainted with Jason. He also created and produced "Whirled News Tonight," a long-running improv show based on current events. I interned on Saturday nights during WNT, assisting in putting newspapers and scissors on a folding table so that audience members could pick the stories the "news crew" would use for scenes.



There was little questioning that Whirled News was Jason's baby. He co-created the show, served as producer, and also coached the oft-rotating ensemble of Chicago improv veterans. It was, he slyly gloated, the longest running topical comedy show in the city. (By my last count, of the current dozen or so actors currently in WNT, three or four are still around from the show's 2003 inception.) Jason also organized the stage like a mom before her kid's birthday party; he made a habit of sweeping the floor himself with a broom, and if an intern didn't do it first, he would also set up the folding table and the cork board used for the newspaper clippings. I usually moved the table off-stage before the show began.



As an intern, I was supposed to alternate weekly between the upstairs (Del Close) and downstairs (Cabaret) theaters at iO's then-location in Wrigleyville. However, one of the other interns was apparently obsessed with the musical improv show in the Cab, so 75% of the time I was upstairs watching and playing gofer for Whirled News. On the occasion that I could sit down and catch my breath, I witnessed a show was at worst above-average improv and at best transcendent and hilarious, and it usually leaned toward the latter. Jason had a singular vision for Whirled News, and it operated like a cunning machine.



Jason was on my short list of people I wished I could collaborate with. When my time as an iO student ended --and ergo, my internship-- I expressed my interest to Jason in auditioning for WNT if I made a Harold team. He appreciated the thought, though obviously nothing came of it. A little over a year later, Jason was putting together a variety show called Saturday/Saturday, which would run Saturday nights after Whirled News. This time around, he was both producing and hosting the show, which would feature a small army of acts in a rapid-fire setting. I auditioned with Bess Miller on a short-lived project we worked on called Half Jew Half Stu ("an improvised divorce"). We did an improvised scene for him; it was pleasant enough, he concurred, but with the election coming up he thought our concept was better suited for Valentine's Day. We promised to re-audition in a few months, but Bess was busy with other projects and HJHS evaporated soon after.



As it turned out, I missed out on something pretty special. Saturday/Saturday ran for a year or so, but the one show I attended left an indelible mark in my mind. Chin's vision of a chaotic, high-energy variety show was fully realized, with him as both the ringmaster and the eye of the storm. It was Variety with a capital "V": you had the obligatory improv and sketch acts, but also a quiz segment, at least one stand-up comedian, a musical guest, a guy that did slight-of-hand tricks, and a hypnotist. Each act was given six or seven minutes to share their wares, to ensure that the show would go as frenetically as possible. Jason's quiz segment concluded with an audience member wearing a "Sombrero of Shame," which I borrowed to him after he messaged some people on Facebook. I meant to ask when I could pick up my hat, but the opportunity never arose.



I didn't know Jason Chin on a personal level; we hardly hung out or had any lengthy one-on-one conversations. At the same time, I grew familiar with his essence. He was jovial, but his art was truth; he could be grounded and spontaneous at the same time. He was a late bloomer to improv, having not taken his first class until he was almost 30, but he more than made up for lost time. There was a reason why he spent so many years as iO's creative director and training center chief; he knew talent and understood how to both nurture and support it. Like a certain big, silly hat that now sits in a closet somewhere, Jason Chin is now lost to the ages. A peerless man with a tremendous mind, gone far too soon at age 46. To my friends on the Chicago improv scene, I mourn with you tonight, as we collectively struggle to figure out this incalculable loss.

Farewell, 3541 N. Clark

In the wee hours of Sunday, July 20th the famed iO (formerly Improv Olympic) theater in Chicago shuttered its doors on 3541 N. Clark, its home since the mid-1980s. It was the concluding chapter in a 4 1/2 year struggle to keep the theater in its Wrigleyville space. Ultimately, the growth of the Chicago improv scene in the past decade, as well as plans to turn the area directly south of Wrigley Field into a massive retail space, spearheaded the move to a new, larger space on 1501 N. Kingsbury, a mile and a half west of Second City. Though this onetime garment factory will not be with us for much longer, its place in Chicago theater history is irreplaceable: scores of comedians, improvisors, and actors learned their craft and performed here, making their way to SNL, MADtv, and even movie stardom. For a lot of regulars on the Chicago improv scene (including myself), it was like a second home.

If the Second City Training Center was the first chapter of my improv story, than iO physically and peripherally dominates the rest of the book. The first show I saw at iO was The DelTones in March 2010; I tagged along with four or five other Level E classmates for some group bonding. Little did I know that three of the performers that night (Tara DeFrancisco, Lyndsay Hailey, and Craig Uhlir) would later become my instructors, or that less than a year later I would be interning at iO on Saturday nights.

On April 30th, 2010 --five days after my first Level 1 class with Tara D-- I was unceremoniously replaced at my job. An almost Sisyphean job search, paired with financial woes and family health issues, made for a very trying summer. For a while, my weekly commute from Downers Grove to Wrigleyville was my only reason to wake up in the morning. As my radio dreams faded, improv class became a badly needed creative outlet as well as my catharsis. This was when I first truly experienced the close-knit improv community and its positive, cream-rises-to-the-top mindset. Eventually, I started taking writing classes at iO and participating in Lyndsay's Hangover Clinic on Saturday mornings. The myriad free shows I attended between 2010 and 2012 were both entertainment and an education. In spite of my personal struggles, for the first time in years, I felt like I was flourishing at something.

Fast forward to August 2011. It was the last night of 5B shows, and after our last set we all headed up to the Annex for pizza and beer. Overall, I thought our seven week run went well, though I thought my overall performance was merely okay. (It also helped that was in a level that was deep with improv talent, as 19 of us would eventually play on Harold teams at one point or another.) One of my teammates, a very diminutive young woman, stood on the chair next to mine to remind everyone that she was hosting a wrap party at her coach house in Roscoe Village. When someone asked for an address, I yelled out the directions I had memorized earlier that day: "Take the Red Line to Belmont, than get on the 77 bus west to Wellington..."

At that very moment, the entire room started chanting "Stu-S-A." I was gobsmacked, blushing, and at a complete loss for words. After a solid minute of cheering and chanting, and I stood up and took a bow, not realizing I hadn't even removed the satchel off my shoulder. I have never received an ovation that like that before or since. I couldn't work up the nerve to say thank you until I posted on Facebook the next day. It's not clear who started the chant; I assume it was the aforementioned girl, though I guess I'll never know now. I still get people from those classes saying "Stu-S-A" from time to time.

With that said, I will be leaving a treasure trove of memories at 3541 N. Clark, and I wish iO Chicago nothing but the best as they move from Wrigleyville to Kingsbury and Blackhawk. My sincere thanks to my instructors Tara D, Kate Duffy, Barry Hite, the incomparable Lyndsay Hailey, Lisa Linke, Craig Uhlir, Noah Gregoupoulos, Charna Halpern, and Nate Herman for their sage wisdom and encouragement, and to all the people I met and encountered in the House That Del Built.

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My Three Worst Shows

This week marks five years since my first improv class at Second City. With all the personal drama I've battled in past few years, improvisation and comedy have been a constant in my life, cathartic as well as a creative outlet.  At the same time, it's one of the few things I don't feel comfortable explaining. Even though I've been improvising a fairly long time, it's become such a personal part of me that it's difficult to write about it introspectively. I'm still learning and honing my craft, and even if a particular show didn't go that well, I have the confidence and hindsight to learn from my mistakes and keep chugging along. Above all, there's plenty to learn when a show goes very badly. Here are three examples:

1. My Level D Performance Show, Donny's Skybox, 2/28/2010. My second show ever. My first improv show before an audience went well for our class, and we were chomping at the bit to do it again. However, there was an unexpected and discernible difference between our Level C instructor and Level D teacher: one taught and the other didn't. One offered pragmatic and concise feedback, the other just said "that's nice" and often seemed as distant and she was vague.

In the end, everything that could go wrong did. The energy was very low, no one seemed to be listening, we were barely starting scenes and rushing through in desperate, almost selfish gasp for stage time. Even in the structured, rapid-fire dynamic of short-form "game" improv nothing seemed to be happening. The show closed with a round of Blind Freeze where everyone just kept editing after two lines, far too short to develop any scene. We had our show the evening after our last class, so it's not like our Level D instructor was going to share her notes, either.

Lesson Learned: Just breathe.

2. Underground Lounge, circa July 2012. I finally started to dabble in "barprov" in late 2011, and often I would book 18- to 20-minute slots first without having a specific person or team to play with. I suppose that's okay in some circles, but it's preferable to book a slot for someone or something in particular. Booking said slot on less than 72 hours' notice makes things much trickier. On this particular night, nearly my entire social circle had other plans. I messaged about 40 people on Facebook before settling on "Lamar," a mutual friend with limited barprov experience, followed by a former classmate that I hadn't been in touch with. On paper, this was an odd couple.

The slot was booked at 8pm on a Wednesday night. I gave the host the name "The Partial Enchilada," my catch-all for anytime I was doing improv on a casual, non-committal basis. The mutual friend showed up on time, but the former classmate completely flaked out. (In fact, I never heard from the old fellow ever again.) On top of that, the air conditioning was malfunctioning; the machine was above the stage, and it was not operating or blasting on an intermittent basis. Once we were set to play, we proceeded to do a series of scenes with Lamar that involved a lot of talking but not much physical action. The AC was very loud at that point, so we had people sitting in the front row yelling "speak up!" as we're doing scenes.

I ended up giving Lamar a ride back to the CTA, but we haven't played together since.

Lesson Learned: A bad idea with strong support goes a lot further than good idea with no support. Also, I hate flake-outs.

3. Upstairs Gallery, Valentine's Day Jam, 2/14/2014. What happens when you encounter someone who intensely dislikes you, and you have to perform in front of them? I had largely avoided that situation until this past V-Day, when I ran into another former classmate and onetime friend at this Andersonville venue. "Erika" had severed ties shortly after her 23rd birthday in September 2012 (odd timing, I know). I later found out by accident that Erika had unfriended and blocked me on Facebook, for reasons that are still very much unclear. Any attempt to communicate with her by e-mail and text have been largely ignored. I don't recall having any specific misunderstanding with her, which makes our communication breakdown even more peculiar.

Even though I wasn't booked to perform, any improviser that was invited was also encouraged to participate in a jam between acts. When my name was pulled from a hat, I stood up from my folding chair, found my place in the line on stage, and... inadvertent made eye contact with Erika. As she sat in the back row, the look on her face could be described as mildly annoyed. This particular ten-minute set went okay, but I was in my head the entire time; I made one strong character choice and that didn't go anywhere, and largely couldn't get a word in edgewise. I spent the rest of the evening either fishing for positive feedback from my peers, or making small talk to avoid any further awkward encounters with my unintended adversary.

Lesson Learned: Don't let drama distract you.

Next Week: my Class of 2014 memory list.

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The Best Laid Plans...

I've never been much for New Year's resolutions. The concept feels like an admission of failure or some type of character flaw. Plus, I look at goals from an objective and circumstantial standpoint; why must we reset on January 1st?

This year --or for the first quarter of 2014, anyway-- I'm putting an increased focus on my theater interests. I just made a house team at One Group Mind, a nationally-known improv organization with a local venue in Wrigleyville. In February, I'm moving the variety show I staged last year at a new theater, with a new name (House of Stuart) and a new night (Sundays in lieu of Wednesdays). I've taken on a business partner to assist in recouping any potential losses, and the longer run time will allow me to experiment with the show's format. The outcome of this show will ultimately determine whether I have a future in producing and potentially talent management.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm still concerned with making a paycheck. I apply for jobs online on a daily basis, and I had more interviews in the last three months than the previous twelve combined. For now I'm still substitute teaching, waking up on less than two hours' notice whenever either of my two districts need an extra hand. I wanted to make 29 my most productive year, and though progress has been slightly slower than expected, I'm working toward my goals and not looking back.

Other notes:

+ Five months since its launch, my Facebook page "Stu News" is inching towards 350 likes. Follow this link to see what the hype is about.

+ Welcome to "Chiberia." Right now the Midwest is experiencing record-low temperatures and equally mind-boggling wind chills. It's terrible out in the suburbs, but from what I've heard even worse in the city. Until this blows over (pun not intended) I recommend my Wisconsin, Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana friends to venture out only if absolutely necessary.

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