Submission 1

Comedian Bio

Anthony Corvino moved to North Carolina six years ago after living and performing in New York most of his life. He was trained at the Upright Citizen's Brigade (UCB) in New York City and has also taught workshops and improv classes at the collegiate, high school and middle school levels. He currently spends his time performing improv regularly at the Dead Crow Comedy Room and acting in local theatre productions.

Story

“I don’t care I’ll call the cops right now” I said mustering the same reserve a small Filipino woman caught in a back alley aiming a can of pepper-spray at her midnight assailant carries with her. ------ The Juggling Gypsy is not a comedy establishment. It is a dive bar that carries an appeal to hipsters and the homeless. The Juggling Gypsy is where comedy goes to die. To be funny at the Gypsy suggests that one is not only not performing comedy, but worse, devoid of any relatable human emotion. However, stage time is scarce in Wilmington, NC. It’s a small, blemish of city with a local comedy arts scene fluctuating constantly between thriving and on the brink of total collapse. And a comic can’t be choosy. Sign-ups start around 8pm with the show beginning somewhere around 9 to 11pm-ish on a good night. The seating accommodations are limited and primarily pillow-based except for a few rinky chairs. Stale hookah smoke paints the walls along with absurdist art to make Dali blush. Five comics in, I get the call to perform from host Dave, who’s subbing in for regular host Steve. Dave never hosts. Dave never performs stand-up. Dave never Juggling Gypsy’s. To a smattering of disinterested, unfocused applause I mumble up to the mic stand. All material feels like new material at the Juggling Gypsy in that no one will laugh but maybe a chuckle at a premise is a clue you’re heading in the right direction. You know you can use the premise when you go to a real open mic. I begin. Two jokes in. Two bombs. Five left. Almost done. The woman seated left of the mic begins heckling. She’s blonde, entitled, and honestly believes she’s aiding the show by taking time to interrupt my bombs. Later that night, I’d discover the biker friend she was with was a key grip in town training her as an apprentice while working on some film. They decided to blow off some steam at the Gypsy, have a few beers, he passed out and she continued to watch the ‘show’. Heckler videos are very common on YouTube. Every working stand up/road comic has some video of them laying into an unruly audience member. Some comics seem to thrive on producing content with suggestive titles like “HECKLER SMASHED” or “CRUSHED HECKLER RUINED” or “DESTROYED HECKLER NO LONGER CONSIDERED HUMAN BY ANY SCIENTIFIC MEASURE”. That fateful Monday night around 10:30pm, something arose inside me where I decided to make dig deep with this particular heckler. “You think you’re helping. I want to stop. I want you to stop. I want you to look around. I’m not going to continue. I need you to...The problem is you won’t let me say these jokes and leave. You want me to give you attention. I don’t want to speak with you. No one wants to speak with you. Because you are that person. Even in a room where people are taking a risk putting themselves out there for some bullshit artistic endeavor, you still want to make it about yourself. You are the worst kind of narcissist. You’re the coward. You need to look at everyone in this room. They are leaving. You are making them leave. Saying you’re a bad person would be letting you off easy. You’re scared. You’re scared to just exist for a moment where people don’t have to pretend to want to put up with your bullshit. Everyone has left. Look...you made them leave. You still won’t quit. I can’t get off the stage because of who you are. You need to win and I need you to know it won’t change you. You’ll always be a garbage person. I have nothing but sadness for you. Look. I gave you attention. See what happened. I hope you learn.” I never did the Juggling Gypsy again. NOTE: This story ends abruptly because what followed was my public shaming at a hookah bar. Her biker friend threatened to beat me up in the parking lot. I threatened to call the cops. The bartender threw us all out. Dave rushed in offering marijuana and a peace pipe. I reconciled with the biker. The blonde sat me down and told me how hurt she was and how I was really an awful human being until she felt like I offered something in the way of an apology. I hate stand up.