Big Breaks, Big Booms, Big Deal

Every once in a while I find myself wondering just how much longer the comedy club business can keep going the way it is.

Don't get me wrong, there will always be comedians and there will likely always be stand-up comedy in one form or another. People will always want to laugh and people like me will always want to make people laugh. But entertainment changes all the time, and how people seek it changes, as well. Comedy clubs have only been around for roughly thirty years and, unfortunately, many have not gotten the memo that the world around them is changing. I'm afraid that it's that very sad fact which will ultimately spell the end for club comedy as we know it.

What's going on?

Comedy clubs first came on the scene in the late 70s and early 80s. In a way, they were the late 20th century version of Vaudeville, where audiences could see traveling comedians and variety act entertainers. Before the small-room comedy clubs came along, people only saw stand-up comics appearing in the old "Supper Clubs" in the post-war era. When "The Comedy Club" as we know it first came along, it was unique in that this was a location to see comedians (and often only comedians) live and uncensored onstage with nothing more than a stage and microphone.

The idea quickly caught on and, before long, there were comedy clubs everywhere. It went from being a big-city staple to entertainment that you could find even in small clubs in small towns all over the country. With not much more needed than a basic sound system, some cheap lights, and a microphone, stand-up comedy wasn't just entertaining...it was cheap.

Comedians were cheap, too. Owning a supper club in the 50s cost a lot of money, since the entertainment was often based around music. With a comedy club, there was no need to hire an 18-piece big band or even a string quartet, for that matter. A comedian was just one guy in a car with a suitcase. The pros of being a comedy club owner at that time far outweighed the cons. Imagine owning a bar where the patrons spend money and then leave all at the same time. Who wouldn't want to invest in that?

The fact that comedy was cheap for the club owner to produce and affordable for audiences to see is one reason the mid-80s found itself smack in the middle of what the industry refers to as "The Boom". In just a few years, there were comedy clubs (sometimes more than one) in almost every major city in North America. Comedians were all over TV, as every late-night talk show realized that stand-up comedy is great filler for any show. Hollywood came calling, too, and began handing out development deals to every third comedian under the sun and each network had some form of stand-up comedy weekly series.

Then it all went to shit.

"The Boom" produced amazing comedy, amazing comedians, and popularized what we think of today when we envision a "Stand-Up Comedian". What it also did was flood the market with too much supply, even when the demand started to slow down. Everyone wanted stand-up comedy, so everyone else tried to produce it. After a while, the popularity waned and it all came crumbling down. In short, "The Boom" in comedy was the equivalent to the Low-Carb craze twenty years later.

There were amazing comedians and amazing comedy clubs out there, for sure. There was also a lot of mediocre shit being thrown against the wall. Some sitcoms were great, while others were embarrassing. Some half-hour shows were hilarious, while others were just killing time. Some comedy clubs were beautiful and had great talent, but others were cheap, poorly run, and gave the microphone to anyone kinda humorous who would work for low wages.

Overnight, it was gone. Comedy clubs began closing and, those that stayed open lowered their wages. The MC used to be an experienced comedian and was soon replaced by being the guy willing to work for almost nothing (or nothing) and simply take that first bullet from the audience. Some clubs eliminated the "Three Comic Format" entirely and switched to having only two. Week-long clubs became weekend clubs. The clubs that survived did so by embracing the talent already working for them and trying to develop their audiences without using celebrities instead of relying upon them.

Then...nothing happened.

The 90s came and went, and the comedy club industry continued to follow the same format it had in the 80s. The look was the same, the show length was the same, even some of the comedians were exactly the same. Outside, a new century was dawning but, inside comedy clubs, it was always 1987. The industry kept trudging along as it always had. Some clubs opened, some clubs closed, but the basic skeleton remained almost exactly as it always had.

The problem is that "The Supply" now far outweighs the "The Demand". Being a stand-up comic used to be something reserved for only the most dedicated of funny folks. With long distance calls, expensive headshots, and annoying trips with a badly-folded road map, being a comedian took serious commitment. Nowadays, in this day and age of email, cheap cell phones, GPS systems, and digital cameras, there are more part-time comics than full-time. The comedian sitcom isn't nearly as sought-after as it once was, but you wouldn't know that by the staggering volume of waiters/comedians living in LA, still peddling the same 10 minute routine for years on end.

The biggest problem, however, is not the amount of performers. It's the lack of passion or adaptability on the other side of the stage. That includes both the audiences who are needed in the comedy clubs and the people who run the clubs themselves. The fact that the comedy club industry wants to pretend that it is still 1987 is one reason audiences are staying away and that the rest of the entertainment world is passing the club business by at the speed of light.

Comedians often live by their TV credits. This is a left-over practice from The Boom, when comedians dominated television. A local comedy club would report that an upcoming comic "has been seen on Evening at The Improv", in order to attract customers there instead of to a competing club. It was also so audiences could go see more of a comic they'd previously seen on TV. The more TV credits a comic had, the better his pay was. Being on TV was often another way to promote tour dates and upcoming shows.

It wasn't long before these TV credits became not a bonus to comedians but a requirement for work. Club owners insisted upon them, and comedians scrambled to get them. It helped separate the amateur from the touring pro. Yet, at the same time, it hindered the business. Being hilarious wasn't a requirement as much as being saleable was. When The Boom died off, and TV networks stopped showing so much stand-up comedy, the clubs kept believing that stand-up comedy was everywhere, on every channel.

But it wasn't.

By the late 90s, there were hardly any stand-up comedy TV shows anymore, talk shows only had comics on periodically, and sitcoms were beginning to be replaced by reality shows. Jay Leno, a comedian who was discovered on the very TV show he now hosted, had comics on alarmingly less frequent than his mentor, Johnny Carson, who reveled in jumpstarting the careers of comedians everywhere. The Tonight Show, once the home for stand-up comedy on television, suddenly treated it as an afterthought.

The problem is that the comedy club industry keeps demanding TV credits from comedians in a time when there simply aren't the credits to be had. Sure, some comedians make it on talk shows, and Comedy Central still plays stand-up specials, but the average comedian working today has to compete with everything from living legends to current celebrities vying for those exact same programs. The comedy clubs still want to know "what kind of credits do you have" in a world where there simply aren't the outlets that existed 20 years ago. Instead of realizing this, the comedy club industry simply folds its arms, shakes it's head, and likes to pretend that Stand-Up Spotlight is still producing episodes.

What did the clubs do? They kept hiring the people with the TV credits, despite the fact that those credits only got older as the years went on. While the rest of the entertainment industry follows the motto that "you're only as big as your last hit", the comedy club world will milk that last hit as long as humanly possible. Even today, some clubs proudly advertise that their club is showcasing a comic who "has been seen on Into the Night with Rick Dees", despite the fact that that show was cancelled in 1991 and even Rick Dees doesn't mention it anymore. Imagine, if you will, if people kept giving multi-million dollar production deals to Steven Seagal, despite his waning popularity, and you'll have an idea how much of the comedy club industry works.

What happens is that, in many ways, comedians keep getting work for no other reason than they simply always have. That guy with the Evening at the Improv credit on his resume will get the job before the newcomer with real energy and promise despite the fact that his act is still stuck in the same year as his TV credit. Ever wonder why so few comedians in their 20s ever seem to come along? It's because no one gives them a chance. Instead, the comics, clubs, and acts get older while the entertainment-loving audiences everywhere continue to be 25 to 45 years old.

Truthfully, most audiences in most cities aren't that concerned with the credits a comedian has when they visit the local club. Sure, there are the famous (or almost famous) comedians who will bring customers to the show. There are even popular regional acts who can fill a large club or small theatre.

For the most part, however, the average audience member wants to see someone who has an act that is current, easy to relate to, and believes that, if that person is onstage in a comedy club, that's exactly what they're going to see. Is the guy who was on The Pat Sajack Show really going to be funnier than, say, the 35 year-old guy who has busted his ass in comedy clubs for 10 years and yet never been able to get on a late-night talk show? Do audiences actually go to the show more because of that old Sajack debacle than they would otherwise? In a decade like the 80s, when comedy was everywhere, that TV credit wasn't so hard to come by. Everyone got on TV then. Why do we now treat it as if it were something special?

Now it is special. There are thousands of comedians in North American and dozens of TV outlets for them, unlike during The Boom, when the exact opposite was true. Yet the comedy clubs still act as if the TV credit is the ultimate calling card. They book (and re-book) the same comedians they always have, and sometimes several times per year. No one retires and many comics sit around waiting for someone to quit or die so that a space opens up somewhere. While the rest of the entertainment industry seeks "the next big thing" or "a new, young star", the comedy club world is desperately clinging to what it already has, running by the very same rules that caused it to lose popularity in the first place.

So, audiences wane. They get tired of going to the local comedy club and seeing the exact same comic, doing the exact same routine several times a year, over and over again. With today's technology, they don't need to. Youtube is making stars every single day, and, true to form, Hollywood is taking notice. Younger comedians are learning to book shows in alternative venues, such as rock clubs and on college campuses. Facebook invites get more publicity than an ad in the local newspaper. The biggest comedian in the world is Dane Cook, a young comedian who became famous by speaking to younger audiences...and did so by embracing new technology and new forms of marketing.

The most successful comedy clubs today realize the changing world around them and are trying to adapt to it. Unfortunately, they are in the minority. Many comedy clubs still do not have websites and many more who do seem to have designed their sites with a Commodore 64. Many booking agents, the very people in charge of discovering new talent and developing a quality show for club audiences, still do not use email. Of those who do, plenty are happy to simply continue using the same acts, year after year, just as they always have done, for no reason other than the fact that it always worked then, so it most assuredly must work now. A club booking agent once told me, "I only work with people I already know". Imagine, if you will, if a record label had that same mentality. Or a TV producer. Or a literary agent. Or, well, anyone.

It never fails, either. When the audiences dry up and the club faces ruin, those in charge wonder what happened. Every time word comes down the pike that another comedy club has closed, the money guys scratch their heads and pretend the writing was never on the wall. They blame the economy, they blame the movies, and they especially blame the comedians. But, while pointing that finger in every direction, the one thing each of them always fails to do is jack that thumb back at themselves.

After all, as earlier mentioned, audiences still want to laugh and new comedians come along every single day who want to make them laugh. If the audiences are staying away, perhaps it's because we aren't giving them what they want. If the industry keeps pretending that 1990 never came along, much less 2000, then it might eventually find itself in the same place as Vaudeville when the radio and TV changed history and altered the entertainment world as we know it.

As much as I love it, I'd like to think that my recent appearance on "Breakfast Television" (or any other program on which I've appeared) isn't the pinnacle of my TV credits. If it is, however, I'd still like to think that my stand-up comedy career can continue to grow and prosper. After all, I'm constantly trying to better myself and my act. I'm constantly trying to stay relevant in an industry where people face enormous failure and rejection every single day. Like most comedians, I'm always trying to be better, funnier, and more entertaining than I was just last year.

Now, if the rest of the industry operated with that same mentality, perhaps we'd see that "Boom" all over again...but, this time, with a little more staying power.

88 Keys, 1000 Pounds

I was at a party recently at a friend's house, when some guy in the middle of the room whipped out an acoustic guitar and started playing it. I was suddenly hit by the fact that this exact moment was identical to about four hundred moments like it throughout my life. Every party has the guy in the room, playing the guitar.

Like many things I did when I was younger that managed to keep me from getting the attention of women, I never learned to play the guitar. I took lessons for about a month and never got past learning the "A" string. I was so young at the time, the guitar was way too big for me, anyway, and it looked like I was trying to strum a cello on my lap. This was in the 80s, of course, when acoustic guitars weren't quite as cool, so I was petulant about the fact it didn't look like it had been splattered with paint or spun around in a circle on my belt. So, just like oil painting, soccer, the trombone, the banjo, pre-law, hypnosis, cartooning, and breakdancing, the guitar became yet another failed hobby.

Enter the piano. In my early teens, I decided to start playing this monstrous instrument. Why? Because it was still the 80s, and keyboards were still pretty cool at the time. There wasn't a band around that wasn't using a keyboard in it, and power ballads with synthesizers were all the rage. How popular were they? Even Metallica used them once in a while. Being the sensitive virgin that I was, I found my calling in the digital goodness that only Casio could provide. Although I was self-taught, I wasn't so bad at it. I was no Thomas Dolby, but I did okay.

Flash forward a few years. There was a huge backlash in music when it came to keyboards. The 80s were a joke and people decide to focus more on people who very badly played three chords on the guitar and didn't like to bathe much. My synthesizer went into the closet and I focused straight on the piano, since that was still allowed, even in the Grunge Era. As far as the music industry was concerned, Thomas Dolby was a douchebag, but Ben Folds was still pretty cool. Around this time, I actually saw Howard Jones playing in a Borders Bookstore. He played the guitar then. True story.

At some point along the way, between those late 80s electric days to about a week ago, it became very popular in music videos to showcase singer/songwriters playing heartfelt ballads on a baby grand piano. It's not the song or the instrument that really stands out in my mind as much as the location of the video. It seems that, right under our very noses, there are emotional singers playing the piano right now...on the beach.

In the mid-80s, I can recall a Carly Simon video, taken from a TV concert, with Simon sitting behind an enormous piano, tinkling the keys as ocean waves crash not too far away in the background. A few years later, Michael W. Smith had a hit song, the video of which had him singing to God from behind the ivories as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean behind him. This was still the 80s, of course, and picturesque landscapes in music videos were still the rage.

Yet this trend didn't end in the 80s. It continues to this day. Do you need to express to music video lovers everywhere that you really mean what you say? The piano is still the instrument for you. Need the right setting to show that your message is heartfelt? The beach is apparently still the place to go. It's the 21st century, and long walks in the sand are still very popular. So is dragging a heavy, expensive instrument there, it seems.

Cinderella pushed back their long hair, fixed their make-up, and had a nice moment of sadness telling us that you "Don't Know What You've Got ('Ti It's Gone)". Where else would someone show such sadness and regret? Right in front of the water, of course (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUA0ai0XxRU).

Faith No More had the common sense to play the piano on a fake beach(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AMS3XNK9CU), because their roadies were apparently aware that a green screen is likely more affordable.

Ben Folds decided that the best place to sing about fatherhood was right there on the coast. In "We're Still Fighting It, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRlgq59dsFQ&feature=PlayList&p=63AD0D84D8E817BB&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=72)He even brought his son along, who proceeded to show how happy he was to be there by violently crying his eyes out. The space between the keys apparently isn't the only crack that got sand in it that day.

Crooner David Martin wooed hearts recently with "Something in your Eyes", the piano-on-the-beach video for this song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qOrmLCdVE0) was directed by none other than William "Sweep the Leg, Johnny" Zabka, of The Karate Kid fame.

All American Rejects decided to be a little more original in their location scouting, so they played piano (while shooting off fireworks) surrounded by mountains (in "It Ends Tonight": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4QGrMyXCKo ) Although not on the beach, the video still gets props for placing a very-easily-broken instrument in one of the most ill-advised locations ever imagined: The middle of freaking nowhere.

That song did not end it all, however, because, in the ultimate middle finger to music videos for popular ballads, Augustana chose to not only play the piano on the beach, but to do so surrounded by literally dozens of other pianos. (In "Boston": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqE7erQFoq8 ).

It was this last video that made me finally realize that there is likely no end to this trend in sight. So, forget the house parties, fellow piano lovers. It's time to take to the beach. Get your suntan lotion, your volleyball net, and your metronome. It's high tide and we're riding that baby grand all the way down the shore.

I own a piano. It weighs almost as much as my car. Also like my car, it comes with wheels on it because moving it without them requires six other people and all the care of delivering a child. I once threw my back out pushing it twenty feet across a hardwood floor just to see how it would look against a different wall. I can't imagine playing it near the kitchen, must less on a beach. If I ever have the money to make a hit music video, however, I already know that I'm going to have to pay a moving company a fortune just to get it there.

So, not only will I not be at a house party, shoving my baby grand through the doorway hoping to impress college girls. I also won't be sitting on the edge of Lake Ontario anytime soon, pounding out the theme from Cheers. In fact, I won't be pounding that out anywhere, since I recently broke my hand trying to prove I could still breakdance.

Thanks for nothing, Billy Joel.

Memorial Day (Koozie Not Included)

Happy Memorial Day, America.

Driving across several states a few weeks ago, I saw numerous billboards and bumper stickers that urged Americans everywhere to "Support Our Troops" and honor their service in our military. Sadly, for many Americans, that honor ends at the bumper, once that sitcker dries in place. A slogan that once served as a reminder to Americans to not treat our servicepeople the same way we did after The Vietnam War, "Support The Troops" to so many is now another catchphrase; a slogan to shout out to someone who doesn't agree with your political views rather than a cry to rally behind the people who volunteer to protect our country.

Now, it's Memorial Day and Americans everywhere are celebrating the day off from work by going on massive shopping sprees, having barbecues, and drinking booze from can wrapped in a "Same shit, different day" koozie. Hey, enjoy the day off, because everyone deserves a celebration, and everyone deserves some time away from work. Just once, at some point in the day, stop what you're doing and actually remember what today is all about.

America's servicepeople have always been the true backbone of this country. They are the true "Working Class" that we often hear politicians scrambling to woo. Their successes built this nation, kept it whole, and helped it to thrive. Their losses broke our hearts, divided us, and changed not only the history of this country but the entire world. We don't have to agree with every military decision made by our leaders, but we can certainly stop once in a while and feel something for those who were forced to follow through those orders, right or wrong, and did so with the determination they pledged.

In Canada, people are fully aware of the fact that there is still a war raging in Afghanistan that the Canadian troops are still fighting. When a Canadian solider is killed in Afghanistan, it is considered a very, very big deal. The tragedy is mentioned all over the news. The flags all over the country fly at half-mast the following week, and each lost solider's face is printed, along with his story, in the nation's newspapers. When his body is flown home, that solider receives a hero's welcome. As he is driven to his final resting place, up a highway appropriately named "The Highway of Heroes", thousands of Canadians show up to honor the sarcrifice. They park on overpasses and on the shoulder of the highway, saluting, waving, crying, cheering, and showing their respect for each and every last solider lost in combat as thd hearse carrying a flag-draped coffin drives past.

Shouldn't every day be just like that in America, too? Isn't that what it truly means to make every day a "Memorial Day"?

Support for our troops is something so much more than a yellow ribbon magnet that you put on the back of your car, right next to the sticker about how great your kid is or the political party you somehow feel more passion towards than you should. It should be more than a tool used to brag to others that you're somehow "more patriotic" than the next guy. It should be treated with more respect than a tattoo you have on your bicep to prove that you're as tough as Rambo. It should be something that we carry with us, each and every day.

It doesn't have to involve money, although that certainly would help. For all of our chest-thumping and flag waving over the past several years, we're bringing our troops home with innefficient medical care, and have been since the war in Iraq began. Thousands of troops need more medical attention than we're giving them, all while we brag about how much we love them and support what they do. If you've got the five bucks, skip the yellow ribbon magnet and throw that cash to a better cause (www.supportyourvet.org, for instance), one that maybe you can't wear on your sleeve. In the long run, it will do more to honor their service than a bumper sticker ever will.

No matter what, however, if you have money or if you are flat broke, spend a little time today (and every day) thinking about those who helped to build a nation that can now have a Monday in May off from work. Just stop, at some point, and think about the sacrifice it took for Memorial Day to happen in the first place. While we're bitching about taxes and about our precious little cars and how the whole world sucks because every one of our neighbors doesn't think exactly alike, the national cemetaries are lined with the headstones of those who gave their lives for you to be such a self-centered jerk in the first place.

I make a living telling jokes about my private parts and acting like a fool in front of strangers. It's ridiculous, I know. I've never served in the military and, quite frankly, would pee my pants if I had to endure a fifth of what the average serviceperson does. So, I'll stop today and think about that very fact as much as a I can. I will stop and think about the selflessness exhibited by so many in what is often a very selfish world. I will be moved by it, I will be proud, and I will remember those who came before me. And those who are making that same sacrifice right now.

And then I will try to do that very same thing tomorrow. And every day. Isn't that what Memorial Day should be about?

Hi, Mom.

It has been said that there is a great point in a person's life when he finally becomes friends with his parents.

I was probably six years old when my mother put me into acting lessions and drama classes. I was a hyper kid, much more so than most of my classmates, and my mother was determined not to put me on Ritalin or any other number of drugs that were appearing on the market and promising parents to make their children act "more normal". She didn't want to find a pill that fixed something that she was pretty sure wasn't broken. I needed my energy "channeled" and perhaps Music, Art, Drama, and Dance were the things that could help me to focus for more than five minutes at a time.
She was right.

I've spent my life onstage, in one way or another, and am fully aware of the fact that I owe it all to Mom that I'm where I am now. I wanted to act, and my mother said, "Well, then do that". I wanted to sing, and my mother said, "Well, then let me hear it." I wanted to make people laugh, and my mother said, "I'm already laughing with you, son". Whenever I stood onstage and did something--anything--to demand the attention of others, my mother was more than willing to be in the front row. She was, and is, always willing to be my biggest fan.
And it wasn't easy.

When I was younger, teachers had so many problems trying to control my energy and deal with my behavior. I wanted attention all the time, and it was hard to deal with me. I have no doubt that there were plenty of times when it would've been easier to dope me up, toss me into some sort of therapy, and hope that I would emerge as a kid who wanted nothing more than to be just like everyone else. But my mother never gave up. She always knew then, as she does now, that I wouldn't be happy if I was like everybody else. I always had to be something different. I had to be something unique that stood out. I had to be someone you remebered and talked about long after I'd left the room. She knew that about me, and never made me feel like there was anything wrong with that.

Now, I'm a grown adult, older than my mother was when she had me. I'm such a lucky man. I make a living doing the very thing I always dreamed I would do. I've traveled everywhere, and met people who love to see me do for a living what I did as a kid simply for attention. When I was a kid, people made me feel as if I was awkward, when I was happy being different. Now, people tell me they envy me for following the very dreams my mother always encouraged me to follow. She never made me feel as if something was wrong with me. She never made me feel as if I needed to be anything other than, well...me.

I was thirty years old, onstage, in South Carolina, when my parents came to see me perform for the first time in over a decade. I'd spent years doing so many things other than performing for a living, and was finally making strides to do what it is that I now call my job. It felt good to walk out on that stage and make 250 people laugh, and know that the two people that mattered most to me were sitting right there, lauging with everyone else. My parents looked at me and realized, for the first time, that I was finally realizing the dreams that they had so long ago encouraged me to believe in and to follow. I looked out, past the lights, and--without her knowing it--saw my mother smile. She was so proud of me. She really thought I was funny. She knew that I was happy. At that moment, we truly became friends.

I don't see her enough. I don't talk to her as much as I should. And I certainly have never told her how much she means to me. I'm her star. But she's my hero. I love you, Mom.

Happy Mother's Day.

BUY WARD'S BOOK DAY - MAY 20TH!

Hello, everyone!

Such an exciting time right now. I'm thrilled to announce that my lil' humor book, "The Ultimate Bachelor's Guide" has just gone to it's second printing. The thing looks GREAT!

Now, here's the pitch:

Now that the book is going to it's second printing, I'm FINALLY getting some attention from national media. I've had no less than FIVE national TV producers express interest in having me appear on their programs.

The catch?

My book hasn't officially achieved "BEST SELLER" status. But it can.

Many of you know about this plan of mine, called "BUY WARD'S BOOK DAY". It's quite simple. If everyone reading this email buys my book ON THE SAME DAY, my book will hit the Top 10 on amazon.com's best seller list. In fact, having everyone reading this email buy the book ON THE SAME DAY coule possibly get the book onto The New York Times list, as well. It's very, very cool.

So, for all of you asking about my book and the new edition, THE TIME IS NOW! It's a great time to get the book and help yours truly finally get some of that national recognition I've been working my ass off to get. For those of you who have never bought my book but have considered it, NOW IS THE TIME to get it! WHY? Because, on amazon.com, "The Ultimate Bachelor's Guide" is ON SALE for $11. Yes, eleven bucks. It's quite reasonable, if you ask yours truly.

BUY WARD'S BOOK DAY - WHEN IS IT?! Well, it's:WEDNESDAY, MAY 20th!

But wait, there's more...Buy my book on amazon.com, send me your confirmation, and I'll send you a personalized thank you. What will it be? I'm not sure. But, dammit, I'll send you something. Maybe a postcard. Who doesn't love postcards?

So, please, friends and fans, BUY WARD'S BOOK on amazon.com on MAY 20th. WEDNESDAY MAY 20th! Help make this struggling comedian a BEST SELLING AUTHOR! I will be bombarding you wonderful people over the next couple of weeks, as a reminder. Tell everyone you know who might want to read a funny book. I PROMISE that you will enjoy the book, too! The reviews have always been great.

BUY WARD'S BOOK ON AMAZON.COM on WEDNESDAY, MAY 20TH! (and, yes, you have to buy it NEW....eeeesh)

CAN'T WAIT to see how tihs turns out. It's very exciting! And thanks for all of your support.

Always,

Ward

Reasons Why Myspace Can Suck It

Oh, Myspace, where have you gone? It seems only two years ago that you were an online social networking site to be reckoned with. People far and wide came to your multi-themed wallpapered background with the hopes to meet other friends and perhaps even shine the spotlight on themselves a little bit.

Now? Myspace sits in the corner of the bar, having drinks and bitching with his old buddy Friendster. In the middle of the room, Facebook and Twitter are dancing and having a good time, but Myspace can't even get Napster to give him a ride home after he's had a few too many. And Myspace, old friend, you've had way too many. It might just be time to admit that the part is over and that it's time to go home.

1. Greed Corrupts Everything on the Internet. Once people realized that they can make a buck or two using Myspace, it was all downhill from there. Networking with "friends" turned from a fun get together with board games into a awkward party where the Amway jackasses show up and ruin everything. Instantly, it was hard to tell who was a "friend" and who was just another schmuck trying to sell you something. As bad as the the "forward this to 25 people and Bill Gates will send you $1,000" emails were, the Myspace spam is ten times worse. Now you have to actually see what these idiots look like.
2. When the Porno People Move In, The Property Value Decreases. If it has a wireless router, the porno industry will show up and find a way to have sex with it. There isn't a single form of technology that isn't used for porno, and the Internet is at the top of that list. I applaud porno, usually, except for the fact that so many would-be pornographers seem to think people need to be duped into viewing it. A simple "Hey, let's be friends" request used to mean just that. Within a few months of Myspace's popularity, that same request was usually followed up by a completely different woman then the person in the profile photo asking for $30 to see her jugs. I've got lots of friends in real life, and none of them ask me for a subscription fee to see their breasts. They let me see them for free or slap me when I mention the idea. Either way, I get to keep my thirty bucks. The porno people invaded Myspace faster than the zombies in 28 Days Later.
3. Some Bands Deserve to Be Undiscovered. It seems that no one likes the record industry these days. The entire industry is full of two-timing low-lives who are screwing over great artists and cramming manufactured crap down the throats of the listening public. Still, those major record labels have a way of making bad musicians sound almost decent. You know what doesn't? Myspace. Sure, there's a few good bands and musical acts parlaying their talents on the Net. There's also an assload of people who have no business singing in the shower, let alone in medium that has the potential to reach millions. People laughed at William Hung on "American Idol". Why? There are countless versions of him right now on Myspace, but with a full band. Myspace made it possible for a few bands to be discovered. It also made it possible for us to see how many awful rappers and metal bands are out there. The recording industry may be evil (and probably is), but at least it discovered Eminem and Metallica, not the slew of self-parodies bombarding us with awful "Comments" daily. No, MC Jackhole, I don't want to check out your latest single. I "Block User" as we go to...
4. Every Comedian Wishes He Was Dane Cook. Yeah, I'm guilty, too. I jumped on Myspace with the hope that I would meet new people, connect with old friends, and maybe even get a little bit of attention for my fledgling comedy career. You see, comedians pass around this ridiculous myth, as if it were carried on the wind. Every so often, an asshat walks up and says, "Dane Cook became famous because of Myspace". Because of this myth, every third douche who has ever been on a stage for more than 3 minutes has decided he needed a special profile, video clips, wacky photos, and cartoon sound effects with which he can bombard college kids all over the world to "Add Me", in the hopes of obtaining a smidgen of the success as Cook, arguably the most successful comedian working today. Here's the rub: Cook didn't do anything unusual, really. By the time Myspace came along, he had already done the "Letterman" show, was an A-list headliner, had a Comedy Central special under his belt, had done some pilots, and had the biggest comedy manager in the industry working for him. Did Myspace help him connect with fans? Sure. It also made every awful New York City waiter believe he could turn his backyard wrestling video into a spot on Craig Ferguson. Now, no one knows who is actually a comedian and who is a guy in his basement calling himself one. Much like the porno people. And comedians, if you're really serious (irony alert!) about the business, why would your only website be your Myspace page?
5. Too Many Pimps. I don't mean actual pimps, of course. I also don't mean annoying suburban white kids who throw up gang signs on their profile pics (by the way, Calvin, the suburbs of Enid, Oklahoma, don't have a "West Side"). Somehow, while giving white kids the chance to act like their favorite minority, Myspace made the big mistake of letting users "Pimp" their profiles. What seemed like a good idea at the time had the effect of letting your four year-old do all the Christmas decorating. Imagine if Picasso had sex with Alice Cooper, had a kid, and tossed the afterbirth on the wall. There's something to be said about subtlety, and Myspace users know nothing about it. What's worse, all of that "pimping" means that anyone who isn't using Steve Jobs' personal computer is going to have to wait forty minutes for their stupid profile page to load. When it does, we get to find out that we waited forever just so we could be treated to thirty seconds of whatever annoying song is plastered on the profile. Nothing like racing to turn off your speakers at 2am when "Bitches Ain't Shit" comes blaring at you. Thank God Facebook figured out that people can tell you what music they like and not actually play it for you. (Side note: if one of your listed hobbies is "pimpin'", you are a loser. You always will be. Kill yourself.)
6. There is Less Advertising on Billboards. It's one thing that every day is filled with messages, comments, requests, and bulletins by comedians, bands, porno chicks, politicians, evangelists, salesmen, rappers, magicians, public speakers, and Flava Flav. It's another that every single ounce of free space on Myspace is taken up with ads to everything from Kool-Aid to the Sham-Wow. Facebook has learned this lesson by placing nice, polite ads randomly in the corners. Myspace would just as soon that the ads come out of your computer screen, kick you in the crotch, slap you across the face, drink a sip of your soda, and then wink at your girlfriend. Enough, already. It's as if the entire cast of QVC was sitting on top of your desk, trying to get you to try the Ab Roller. Oh, and if those annoying smiley faces in the top banner scream for me to "Say Something" one more time, I'm going to use my cursor to poke out their eyes.
7. Three-Legged Dogs Move Faster. Yeah, it's hard to get Myspace to load up when you're waiting on some nimrod's profile to load all of the cute bunnies in the background and the re-mixed version of "Crazy Bitch". You know what's even slower? Myspace. Yeah. Just plain, old Myspace. I doesn't matter how fast your computer is, Myspace has become the old man driving the Oldsmobile on the highway. As Twitter comes barrelling out of the darkness in the left lane, Myspace has both hands on the wheel but is looking straight at the dashboard. It shouldn't take half a day to accept a friend request. By the time it has gone through, I've already forgotten the "Friend" and have stopped listening to his shitty band.

One can only wonder if Facebook will soon go in the same direction as our struggling friend Myspace. For now, it seems that the mistakes of the Father are being avoided by the Son. Having learned our lessons from Myspace, friend requests on Facebook are followed up with "Do I know you?" If you want to become a fan of a band on Facebook, you have to have actually heard of that band. And, when I want to tell people about how I'm performing at Uncle Chuckledump's Funny Hut, I have a fan club group that caters to people who might actually give a shit and will leave alone all the people who don't. And, so far, I haven't been bombarded by the false promises of a stripper hoping that I'll "chat" with her on her web cam. Really, if we want porno, we'll find it ourselves...on eharmony.com.

By the way, are you a member of my fan club?

The Ugly Truth

Over the past several days, a lot of hoopla has been made over a British woman named Susan Boyle. Ms. Boyle appeared on a TV show called "Britain's Got Talent", where she wowed audiences with her beautiful rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream", from Les Miserables. What's notable about her performance is that Boyle was first met with snickers from the audience because she is middle-aged (47 years old) and, at best, very plain-looking. Some have called her "homely", and others have been more insulting. To be blunt, Ms. Boyle simply isn't attractive in the way that Hollywood has defined the word.

Now she's a star. She managed to turn a snickering audience into a crowd of cheering fans. Her video on youtube.com has been watched by millions. Fan pages are popping up all over the Internet and she is being offered record contracts. Newscasters all over the TV are reporting this sensation and talking about how surprising it is for a talent like her to even exist. Good for you, Ms, Boyle! Congrats!

My only question: Where is all the surprise coming from?

What is it about Ms. Boyle that makes it so hard for the average person to believe that such a great voice came from her in the first place? Is it her age? Her hair? Her simple attire? Her lack of appearances on "America's Next Top Model"?

Have we sunken so far into superficiality in our society that we actually believe that only (physically) beautiful people have talent? Are we so ignorant as to believe that the only way for a person to truly be an excellent singer is to first be eligible for a spread in Playboy? How is it possible that we've managed to convince millions of people that talent starts on the outside and works its way in?

Perhaps it started with MTV. Before the early 80s, and the invention of the Music Video, it seemed that anyone could get a recording contract, as long as the talent shown through. If you wrote and performed a great song, you could quite possibly become a star. The music came first, the album cover came later. It was about what came through your headphones more than it was about what you saw through your specs. Once video killed the radio star, all bets were off. Singer/Songwriters became songwriters only, and beautiful singers got to belt out their tunes.

I recently watched some old episodes of "The Midnight Special" on DVD. The landmark TV show from the 70s showcased musical acts of the day, and everyone from Rod Stewart to Barry Manilow appeared at some point. While watching it, I was amazed at how, in that decade, there were so many acts now considered "Classics" and "Stars" that wouldn't have a shot in hell at being successful today. Rupert Holmes looked like a science teacher while singing "The Pina Colada Song" and the entire band Exile were downright creepy-looking. On top of that, most acts were what today's entertainment industry would label "old". Yes, many of the rising stars of the 70s were--gasp!--over thirty years old!

Now we're in the beginning of the 21st century, and we've deluded ourselves into believing that talent begins and ends in your 20s. Imagine a rock band coming on the scene nowadays, Grammy-worthy album in-hand, only to be told that no one will listen to them because the singer is past the age of twenty-nine. Or overweight. Or bald.

Perhaps it shouldn't be a surprise at all? After all, this is the early 21st century. We make celebrities out of people for no god damned reason at all, and do it all the time. Paris Hilton is famous because she was born wealthy, had a sex tape, and is as shallow as a Dixie cup. The same goes for every last member of The Hills. Tila Tequila managed to get breast implants and make friends on the Internet, and the entertainment industry gave her a TV show and a book deal. Never before have so many people become celebrities simply by their ability to not do a god damned thing but look good and buy things, whether it be clothes or body parts.

Susan Boyle has a great voice. What's surprising about it is not that she is forty-seven, isn't a fashion model, and has a few pounds to lose. That's stupidity talking. What's surprising is that she has that amazing voice all because she worked to get that way. She didn't have a publicist, she didn't have an overzealous father who is also her manager. She didn't get a million friends on myspace and a cute dog. She had a dream and she worked hard to realize that dream. She developed her talent while other, more successful people in the entertainment industry were working on their tans first and hoping the producer could make their singing sound on-key for them later.

There should be more Susan Boyle's out there, and it's horrible that there aren't many. Think of some of the most influential voices of our time and how things would've been different had they never been discovered, simply because of their appearance. There would be no Mama Cass, no Janis Joplin, no Carnie Wilson, no Brian Wilson, no Steven Tyler, no Mick Jagger, and the list goes on and on and on. How much talent have we missed out on simply because we've been so obsessed with abs and big boobs?

The late, great Lucianno Pavarotti weighed as much as a Mini Cooper and yet could bring people to tears with his amazing voice, in concert halls all over the world. Imagine if we'd never been allowed to hear his talent simply because he refused to go Low-Carb? Enjoy your Paris Hilton album, folks. I'm going to wait for that Susan Boyle CD to drop. Hell, I can't wait for the DVD.

Well done, Susan.