Submission 8

Comedian Bio

John McCombs has been performing comedy across the United States and Europe for 8 years. His comedy points out the absurdity of societal norms and he exposes the ridiculousness of every day situations. He draws on his experiences as a former officer in the U.S. military and his upbringing in a school where humor meant the difference in being respected or joked on. He has worked with former Saturday Night Live cast member Tim Meadows and performed shows in 9 different countries. John currently performs regularly around the Chicago area.

Story

Comedians will go damn near anywhere for a gig. We will drive across the country, perform in laundromats, on buses, and generally put up with insane shit if we are paid enough or we might just do it for the story. My craziest gig took me to Moldova, the poorest country in Europe. There’s a reason you have probably never heard of Moldova. It is a small landlocked country between Romania and Ukraine and part of the former Soviet Union. In fact, there’s a breakaway portion of the country called Transnistria that wanted closer ties with Russia after independence and today is one of the few places that has statues of Lenin still standing. It was also the first place I ever headlined. That’s right, the first place I ever headlined was in a country not officially recognized by the UN, all for people who mostly spoke Russian. There is something endearing about performing for people who don’t usually get to see your type of entertainment. They were actually extremely enthusiastic and supportive, despite the language barrier and I managed to have a pretty good time clawing my way to a full hour. In fact, I had such a good time I returned to do two more shows in the winter at the behest of my American contact who lived out there: Tim. Now I should mention that Tim has lived in that part of the world for about 13 years and will constantly tell you how much he loves the “Wild East” as he calls it, with their non-pc culture, beautiful women, and cheap booze. Tim is also the type of person who posts shit about government conspiracies and UFOs on Facebook, oh and I have no idea what his real last name is. Regardless, he is one of the few Americans who lives out there and therefore everyone seems to know him, which means he has all the connections to set up shows for me. That’s just what he did in the capital city of Moldova, Chisinau. Chisinau has a little more money than Transinistra, but you can still go to any corner store in that city and for fifty cents the person behind the register will pour you a shot of vodka and give you a piece of hard candy. So, I do my first show at this pub and it actually goes very well. Everyone is enjoying themselves. Tim is blitzed off his ass and I’m killing for people who’ve maybe seen a total of five black people in person. After the show, I am just hanging out, talking to people when two guys approach me and Tim. To me they just seem like the normal audience members you typically talk to after a show: overzealous guys who want to know more about comedy, buy you drinks, and prevent you from talking to the few pretty women in attendance. So, in the middle of us talking to these guys, I notice Tim’s demeanor changes. He goes from happy-go-lucky drunk to dismissive, irritated drunk. At one point, he gets so fed up with them that he basically tells them to piss off. The two guys give us some space and I ask Tim what the problem is and he says, “John, those guys are KGB agents. They’re checking you out because so few Americans come here. They like to harass us.” Now initially when someone tells you you’re being watched by a foreign spy agency you react like any normal human being, you don’t believe them. Tim then continued, “They start off acting like they’re your friend and then they just start asking questions about what you’re doing, why you’re here, and then they try to intimidate you.” “C’mon Tim, you really think those guys are KGB?” I asked him. “When I first moved out here they threw me in jail for three days just to intimidate me. All I had was a wooden bed and a wooden pillow. Thankfully, once they left for the night the guards would come in and party with me and we’d get drunk.” Now getting thrown in jail for three days when you live in the country might’ve worked for Tim, but I had a flight to catch and at the time was still technically in the United States Marine Corps reserve and I couldn’t remember if I had mentioned that in my show that evening or not. In any case, I didn’t relish the idea of my face being on 20/20 as Rex Tillerson negotiated with Putin for my release. With my military background and despite being black, I think I would make a pretty good hostage. I decide that now is a good time to get the fuck out of Dodge, so I grab the shitfaced Tim and we begin walking out of the bar to our hostel. I keep checking over my shoulder out of paranoia and I notice two men following us. I can’t tell if they are the guys from the bar or not, but now I’m sufficiently spooked. Tim, either because of his extensive experience living in this part of the world or just through his extensive blood alcohol content, pulls us into the safest place for an American overseas: McDonald’s. Tim orders and wolfs down several hamburgers while I scan the doors, checking for our stalkers. Once he’s done we exit the McDonalds and make it a few more blocks before I notice two guys following us again. I still can’t tell if these are the same guys from before so Tim recommends we turn into a field so we will know for sure if they are following us. We go about fifty yards into this field and turn around and just look back at these two men standing on the edge of the field. Tim, God bless him, has more courage than me and drunkenly slurs out, “What do you want? Why are you following us?” The two men just kinda stand there for a second and finally start walking back into town. I give Tim a WTF look and he just shakes his head. “Once you let these fuckers know you aren’t scared of them they leave you alone. Like I said, it’s all intimidation.” I love this man. We make it back to our hostel unfollowed and retire for the night. The next night I do my second show, this one having a rather significant attendance from U.S. embassy personnel, which makes me wonder if it’s better to be followed by the KGB or the NSA? In any case, I like to say I’m one of the few comics who probably has a case file at the Kremlin right now. P.S. The shitty part about this gig was that I forgot to change out my money after leaving Moldova and their currency is so worthless that no other country will accept it. So now I have all this worthless Moldovan cash sitting in my dresser. Glad to know I was nearly arrested by Russian intelligence for free!