Sock It To Me!

This Spring, come time-travel to a mutant 60’s variety show, SOCK IT TO ME, where sketch, stand-up, dance, and aerial artistry collide!

Featuring local comedy favorites Virginia Jones and Gabe Dinger! Famous Mysterious Actor troupe members Josh Fisher and Wally Fessler! Curious Comedy founders Bob Ladewig and Stacey Hallal! Comic actors Scott Rogers and Katie Behrens! With dance and aerials from Daniela Steiner, Kyoko Uchida, Stephanie Seaman and Stephanie Cordell!

America’s Got Talent! Apparently!

I was offered a private audition for America’s Got Talent in Portland, and although I don’t do anything with dogs, farts, or fire, I thought I might as well. The Friday before the show, there was a rumor that a booker would turn up at the Bagdad to check out talent, and local comics were fighting like crabs in a pot for spots in the showcase, and in a Waiting for Guffman moment, the booker showed up at Harvey’s instead and offered me a private audition time, which I already had.

The Morning

It was cool sweeping past the THOUSANDS of f*ckers on the outside. One of the PA’s was the talent scout who had talked to me at Harvey’s, and it was kind of fun knowing someone “inside.” My photo was in a notebook of photos and resumees. That was my favorite bit.

It was good practice to do a 90 second set for four people in a brightly lit room.

They giggled and said they enjoyed it. They didn’t stop me after my 90 seconds, so I did a closing bit. I don’t think I stand a chance with the barrage of hula-hoop competition teams and Chihuahuas on exercise balls. They don’t need a dark, sarcastic girl comic, I don’t think. And frankly, my family-friendly material peters out after 90 seconds.

The Afternoon

A friend of a friend came up from SF to do the cattle call and was there from 8:30 AM to 7PM, and I got to visit the cattle call holding pen. I saw the wisdom behind not doing those calls, they just look like a bunch of crazy people. I saw a tiny Michael Jackson impersonator, a fat Elvis (really? You think they need a jumpsuited Elvis?), many many Sparkle Motion child dance troupes and cheerleading teams, fifty nurses in scrubs with a dance routine, and singers in eveningwear. I had NO IDEA that there were so many people in the world, or that they were so talented. They had come from Salt Lake City, from Potter’s Dick, Wyoming, and from Pig-Snout, Arkansas. Being in the room was like being in a tiny town where everyone was crazy.

In the prebooked section, I met a guy who has perfected conch shell playing, and a very cute tap-dance trio (The Hot Shot Tap Dancers), and a popper from Seattle, and a harmonica player (they were all in my green room). I did not meet or see any other comedians. Since I was not carrying a guitar or an animal, I was widely assumed to be a singer.

All in all, not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.

Diminishing Returns of Compliments


Rule of Comedy: If you hang out long enough at the club, you’ll see people’s excitement levels drop precipitously. The people who really liked you will come talk to you about it immediately, and then the people who kind of liked it will say something, and at closing time people who didn’t really care for it will feel compelled to mention that they saw you or that they heard you were good.

I also got my favorites handed out in Lewiston, ID at MJ Barleyhoppers (yes, *that* MJ Barleyhoppers) : “I don’t know what their problem was, I thought you were hilarious”, and “Don’t worry, they’re too stupid to know how funny you were!”

This Is: Driving Excitement!

I saw this bumpersticker today: It reads “Don’t let the car fool you. My treasure is in heaven!”

So, what have we got here?

1. Pride: Look at my nice car!
2. Avarice: I need money for nice things!
3. That most Christian of virtues: self-righteousness!
4. I’m going to Heaven, asshole!
5. My nice car doesn’t even MATTER!
6. Maybe you can get this car after the Rapture, assuming it didn’t get totalled while I was sucked into Heaven while driving Trevor to soccer camp!

Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work on my new Atheism decal, which is in the shape of a happy fish in bed on Sunday morning with a paper and a coffee.

Amazing Romantic Rivalry at Seattle’s LAFFHOLE!

SEATTLE!  Look out.  For Christ’s sake.  I’m gonna be up there.  Really soon.  There’s very little you can do to avoid it, except, I guess, not show up at Chop Suey on Madison at 9.  But what fun would that be?  I’m traveling with the always-odd Christian Ricketts.

Behind the Story

At the risk of being an asshole, I want to tell you a story about this show.

With four years of comedy under my belt, I was delighted to be invited to come up to Seattle for a midweek showcase. I considered it a real high point in my career as a mostly unpaid comedian. I was also offered that I could bring another Portland comic for a set. Magnanimously, I reached out to Christian Ricketts, who was funny and who I liked, along with everyone else I knew. At the time, liking Christian was just a hobby, like how girls put on drag queen makeup for TikTok today.

PROK posted about the show on Facebook, and a woman in Seattle said something to the effect that she’d like to get a closer look at Ricketts.

It Lives

This activated his ex-girlfriend, who lived in San Francisco. where she had publicly berated me onstage to a crowd that DID not GIVE a SHIT. She got in a car and drove to Portland and said she wanted to come along. It reminded me of the time NASA astronaut Lisa Nowak put on a diaper and drove cross country to attack her rival. Christian called me and casually asked, hey, can she ride with us?

I said no, I didn’t care for her, and I didn’t want to go from being on a buddy roadtrip to chauferring a couple. She was mean to me. He could drive them, or he could just not go, and either one was fine with me. Someone else could do his set.

I don’t know what conversation transpired, but he called and announced dramatically that he was coming alone.

Fine.

We had a fun drive, and then one of the hosts, Kevin Hyder, greeted me and I introduced him to Christian. “And I understand”, Kevin said, “you brought another comic?”

No, I said, confused.

“Yeah, she called and said she was on the bill.” Amazing. Bitch had booked herself.

Unsatisfactory Postscript

I don’t know if Christian’s Seattle admirer came or not, she didn’t appear to come introduce herself. Christian and I had good sets and had fun, and then we drove back and I dropped him off at 2AM, then went to work in the morning.

The ex girlfriend moved to LA but hasn’t done comedy in years, so all of this energy being aggravated with her is useless. I try to have empathy for her, but she’s only been awful to me, so it’s hard.

Backhanded Compliments!

Politeness is important. Here are my favorite polite comments to offer, especially to stand-up comedians.

“You looked like you had a lot of fun up there!”

“Wow, you’re really committed to that material!”

“You’ve got…a lot of energy.”

“I don’t care how many times I hear ’em, I love those jokes!”

“You got more laughs than it sounded like.”

“That’s right, screw ’em! You keep doing what YOU think is funny.”

“You’re so brave to get up and do that!”

“You…and I mean this…you do more with less than anyone in this scene!”

“I sure admire your persistence! Keep it up!

The Comedians Magazine

Well, I’m honored to be included in New York’s finest all-comedy magazine, The Comedians. I’m in the same issue as Larry Miller!

Virginia Jones

written by Kelly Mackin

Standing in front of the crowd. Making them laugh. Having all of their attention on you. When a comic hits the road, it’s where he or she thrives, where they are most comfortable. Then there are shows, like the one Portland, Oregon comic Virginia Jones experienced her rookie year in nearby Medford:

“In this ‘venue’,” she recalls, “there was a microphone stand on stage. Behind it was this shiny brass pole! As I walked on, I asked, ‘Is this what I think it is?’ A second later, a guy in the back yells, ‘Yes! That’s where the pretty girls dance!’ I had to call my mom. I asked her, ‘Mom, am I pretty?’ She said to me, ‘Honey, you are unique.’”

Some people become famous because they want fame more than anything else in the world. They reform and repackage themselves into whatever idea they think will make them appealing. They sell whatever parts of themselves people will purchase, like a personal pawnshop where everything’s for sale.

Not Virginia Jones.

A transplanted Texan who’s found a home here in the Pacific Northwest, Jones is a 30 year-old comic who’s now three years past her first open mic. In her act, she exhibits cares in what she says, taking her time to relate an idea. A famous professor once said that speakers of English get anxious after five seconds of silence. That’s just the rest note between the beats for Jones.

You can find her on YouTube where one of her segments features her dealing with an unlikely heckler at a show in Austin, her mother. We’ve all been to homecomings, but it’s rare when we have to good naturedly joke, as Virginia did, in front of a crowd, “Mother, I love you. But if you step on my punchline again I will punch you in the face.”

“Most people heckle because they think it will help,” says Virginia, “or because they want the attention. Hecklers don’t bother me very much and I think it’s a mistake to get upset with them. My mother heckled me simply because she didn’t realize that it was something she should not be doing. ”

According to her website, badinia.com, Virginia was the first runner-up in the Portland Amateur Comedy Contest in 2007, was a finalist in the 2008 Comedy Knockout, and is a biomass made mostly of carbon.

Seeing her live, you notice how she is tall, pretty, and has a lot of stage power. “The first time I saw her do comedy,” says comedian Jessa Reed, “was at a show we did together in 2008. She killed. She stood up against men with bad feet wearing sandals. It moved me. I was convinced that she was always trying out new material on me, but I come to find out she just really is that funny.”

It took several weeks to interest Virginia in an interview. She just didn’t seem interested. But at last, she told me about a show she was doing up in Washington. So I drove up The Five to a beer hall/ comedy club called Peter Pipers at an I-5 truckstop, about a third of the way to Seattle. It was an inauspicious location. But the town was well-lit and clean, much to my surprise.

During the course of the night, she showed she clearly loved being in the presence of other comics, finding acceptance and support. As Jessa noted, “Virginia appreciates the talent and doesn’t have to compete.”

As much as comics rate each other and audiences rate comics, comics rate audiences. Virginia was asked about her favorites.
“My favorite gig is the Women’s Comedy Festival in Eugene Oregon,” Jones says. “It’s just the most supportive audience. I pick up so much energy from that.”

“My least favorite comedy venues are goth clubs. I mean, they are way too cool to actually laugh.” She chuckles. “I once did a regular gig at a club and four goth friends showed up. The entire place was in tears and they just sat there, with their goth clothes and makeup. It’s just not part of the goth culture to laugh. That’s just the way they are!”

Over Lunch at Nell’s Café in Portland, he revealed herself as sensitive and clear headed, intense and sweet. I asked her about what fuels her interest in comedy. She said, “I was a blue state woman who grew up in a Red State: Texas. What more do you need to know?”


“I used to have a Keep Abortion Legal sticker on the back of my car when I lived in Texas,” says Jones. “People used to try to peel them off, or deface them. They would rip it so that it said emKeep Abo Lega/em. I’d just put another one back on there. Then one day, a truck on the road started bumping me from behind. I moved over and they kept doing it, even heading around a cul-de-sac. They were trying to run me off the road. They were trying to kill me. People in Texas are different. You say something, it gets transformed. They hear something different. You say, ‘feminist’ and they hear, ‘Lesbian serial killer. It’s just how they’re wired. I came to Portland and I said, ‘I feel like I found my people. I’m no longer the outsider.’”

To some, expressing an opposing point of view is a statement of rebellion. In Virginia’s case, it’s more a state a mind; useful in surprising a crowd that doesn’t know what to expect next. She’s married to experimental musician Thomas Jones, a decision her mother was against at the time. Virginia recalls with laughter and irony why that no longer bothers her. “They (her parents) were both divorced. Really divorced.”

Jessa Reed adds, “Virginia says horrible things about Paris Hilton that make me laugh. But when every other woman comic in our age group is telling jokes about her kids, Virginia will give you twenty minutes on why babies are not where it’s at. And it’s hilarious.”

“Sure. I don’t like babies,” says Jones. “People go gaga for babies. That’s fine. But that’s not me. I don’t want to be a mother. I’m fine with that. I wanted my husband to do the surgery, and he didn’t want to. Besides, it might make him sleep around.” She smiles.

Virginia strikes one as aloof at first. But that’s an essential part of what makes her an interesting comic. Her timing is unique. It’s legato, a slow waltz, like cool jazz. If you recognize the humor in jazz, then you know what I mean. She also has a strong variation in dynamic range, going from whispers to loud; all for effect. She usually takes the time to breathe while smiling at you like she knows she has a gift for the audience. If you listen to a lot of comedy, you think, “this is different. It’s compelling.”

One of Jones’ keynote riffs involves her mom’s dating and how mothers and daughters relate as grown-ups. “My Mom has started dating on seniorsmeet.com, which is THE place to go if you want to date my mother. She’s an attractive lady in her 60’s. She’s got 12 cats. She likes Motown. She’s a Baptist and lives in a small town in Texas. Contact me. I’ll get you in touch with her. [Laughter.] She was writing me all the time about this guy that she met up there, ‘He’s so hot. He’s so hot!’ So she sent me a picture of him. Uh, hmmm. We are operating with very different definitions of hot!”

Kelly Mackin is a writer from Portland.