Wow, after a slow start, I scored quite a number of jokes in the TMI Hollywood videos in the last 4 weeks. They only did a couple of videos in January. None in February, then they settled down in March to a more standardized production schedule and I managed to get jokes in 3 of the four weeks they posted, even the special "College Emission Scandal Edition." Some of my jokes even survived punchline rewrite: They were still basically a variation on my version, so I included them here. In the past, I've skipped those kind of rewrites. I can usually tell when they've used one of my premises or set-ups, then I've seen the whole punch line redone. I honestly don't think I can take credit for a joke when that was done. If I was sitting in a writers room pitching it and things were reworked, I guess I would. Or if I was being paid. I used to deal with this to an extent when I wrote for Newsbusters, only then it was whoever submitted the punchline first who got the check. Nobody got credit. to be fair, they pretty much used the jokes as written. Certainly you could tell there was no one on duty punching anything up. Anyway, my jokes on the TMI Minute!
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From 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  Here's a piece from my Cynical Period. Nah, just kidding, I just drift in and out of cynical phases. But this was an early one. It's one of those bits where I take a charming and innocent premise and just pepper it with adult angst anchored by a cranky old fart. It's a pretty solid premise and I did for a workshop. And I thought a fairly easy bit to rework for radio. That was the one thing about radio, I just saw it as dialogue-driven but I never let the words lead the listener along. I rarely used dialogue to introduce another character or weave a visual gag. People would talk and if someone new entered the scene, they would just start talking. I think I started to realize with this bit that I had to walk the audience through the scene aurally. Plus, I found myself writing almost a whole 'nother routine to set up this one as a radio bit. All the mentions of other radio shows were new for the lead-in. Rule of three and all that. And I got to play with sound effects again. But, as is often the case, the sketch leaned too heavily on TV shows and that may have doomed it. And, perhaps, the cast size. Also GK, who was old then, had just had a kid, and I made mention of it; which could have gone either way. Though the idea of GK describing an episode of the kiddie show Teletubbies would have been so funny. REALITY-TIME STATIONFrom 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  This is one of those sketches I had totally forgotten about. And it's an old one. I wrote this bit in college. I preformed it there as well. It was cross between my Python-style shop sketches and an Abbott & Costello patter routine. I remember sneaking into the sign printing press at work (I was part-time at Kmart) and actually setting the type and ink and printing up the various sample slogans to give the sketch some visual punch. I'm actually proud of the skit, too, because I managed to bring the sketch full circle, get to the phrase needed and get the shopkeep to take credit for it. Plus I worked in an Abbott & Costello reference. It was certainly a weird variation on my Pet Store and Plant Store sketches, and of my shopkeep guy, who I later on named Martin Storeman and applied it retroactively to all these Dead Parrot-style routines. I can't even remember how the idea came up, but I certainly held to the premise and worked it well. I guess it was only a matter of time before I pitched it to PHC. I had to add a wrap-around set-up, to make it seem like an on-going serial, which worked fine. I thought they would like the word play. I thought GK could be Paul Revere, but maybe that was too big a stretch from his usually droll/low-key demeanor. It was a pass for them. When I did do the sketch at college, I attempted to audio tape the show. That tape is kicking around somewhere, I suppose. Maybe I'll get around to digitizing it and upload it someday. Ye Olde Catch-Phrase ShoppeFrom 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  This was one of my attempts to create a SFX-laden sketch that I thought would impress the gang at PHC. They often did these bits which put their sound effects guy, Tom Keith, center stage. Looking back, I can see some of the problems. I was doing a parody of summer movie blockbusters using the idea that radio did the same every summer. That may have been a bit too pop-culturey for GK. Yeah, a bit. There may have been too many parodies bundled together, but I always felt that the SFX sketches they did covered a lot of ground. I thought I was mimicking that. Also, it may have been too many speaking roles. I really tended to be lax about that. Not that anyone ever really said to keep the speaking parts down. On the other hand, I had chickens. So many chickens. I really thought that would win them over. For some reason I called the spy parody "The Man From SWAK" which was a comic parody I drew that mocked my first job. I had turned it into a script and was always mailing it out, so I don't know what I was thinking there. I thought it was a cute sketch that would have been fun and funny. What do I know? RADIO'S SUMMER BLOCKBUSTERSFrom 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  This is a recycled bit, built up out of multiple sources. As I mention elsewhere I had written a sketch about the gods on Mt. Olympus. I really was proud of it. So, naturally, I decided to dust it off and submit it to PHC. The sketch itself lifted a couple of bits from a prose piece I did, Lessor Known Gods, which got published in the Staten Island Advance and a fanzine I worked on once (there's a series of blog posts waiting to happen!). Re-reading it now, I can see why it was rejected. It's too much. Too many people. I thought radio was magical and there were no limits, but I have since learned that radio producers still don't like "big casts" even if the performers can do several voices. It's a little too esoteric: I still bounce around with the writers guild issue of no pay for internet content, as if that would appeal to or be recognized by a general audience. It's a strong piece, but the wrong venue. But this is how I act toward gigs, I fling everything at it them, desperate to make a connection. I'd like to think I've resisted that urge better lately, but look at me posting all this stuff on my blog? What's THAT about? MT. OLYMPUS Okay, so here's the thing; last night I attended an event hosted by ComedyWire, it was an open mic night for the stand-up comics and writers on the site. They were offering 15 slots of 3 minutes each. And people could just come in an hang, as well. I thought it would be a good way to network and meet important people from the company. It was not. First, when I got to the club they were holding the event in, there was a long line to get in. After I reached the front, I was asked my name by a guy with a list. I mean, there were a lot of people, but the site is pretty popular. “Good thing I RSVP-ed,” I thought to myself as the guy looked up my name on the list. It wasn’t there. “Is this the ComedyWire event?” I asked. It was not. I had to go downstairs. Oh. OK. Downstairs, there were far fewer people, arranged as so: One person at each table, each looking at their cell phone. “Oh, my,” I mused, “Are there 15 people here?” I considered the possibility that if there weren’t, they might grab people out of the audience to do a set (This is foreshadowing). Once I entered the room, the person in charge said something like “Make sure you sign in!” Every workshop and group I’ve gone to always has an attendance sheet. So I signed it. Drinks were on the company, so I was sitting with another writer/performer who was set to go up and I mentioned that I was there to be the audience, after all, somebody had to do it. So, I’m drinking my beer and enjoying the show. It was an interesting mix. Some came prepared. Others had notes. Some had good jokes, but no delivery. Others had stage presence but not good material. As they pulled names out of the hat for the 3rd batch of performers, my name was called. “No!” I blurted out. No one heard, except Aaron who I was seated with. “Do it,” he said. Meanwhile, my nerd brain decides to note that this is just like “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.” My brain was slipping gears as I desperately attempted to figure out how to play this. I supposed I could have just run over to the woman calling out the names that my name was in there in error. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Instead, when my name got called, I took the stage. “There’s been a horrible mistake,” I announced. “I thought I had signed an attendance sheet. I shouldn’t be up here, I’m a writer guy. A writer guy!” I looked out at the audience and couldn’t see a thing. The spot light was right on me. I’m pretty sure I shielded my eyes at first. After that, it gets fuzzy.  I wish I could state that I rose to the occasion. I did not. I pulled out my “I’m from New York City. Downtown NY. Very downtown—I live in Staten Island, okay?” intro that's on all my bios that i submit. I did a butchered version of my ferry concept, “I ride a boat into the city everyday like our explorers did…” I think I meant “forefathers” or “ancestors.” These are things I remembered from the time I was in a "Funniest Staten Islander" contest back in the 90s. I then announced it was my birthday “tomorrow” and got a round of applause but didn’t joke about it as a way to eat up time. I announced my age. Stated I’m a grandfather and said basically I’m writing stuff for my grandkids now, like “Why was the chick standing on the curb? Because it wasn’t allowed to cross the road without an adult.” Anyway, that’s how the joke is supposed to go. I’m not sure what I blurted out exactly. I blanked bad. All the jokes I’ve written, all the time’s I’ve imagined getting up on stage and I just babbled on. The woman running the night then called out “You don’t have to use all the time” and I quickly concurred. I didn’t say anything witty like “I hereby yield my time to--” I just apologized again and said, “let’s get a real comic up here! Thanks!” Or words to that effect. Then I slunk off the stage.
Aaron said I did a solid minute and a half. Seemed longer. Naturally, as a writer, I’ve totally re-written the scene in my head. I’m remembering the fantasy set I’ve thought about time and time again if I ever did stand-up again. I thought of old jokes and new jokes. I remembered the knock-knock joke I thought for my grandson. All of which reminds me of what I discovered last time I preformed stand-up. I’m more comfortable behind the keyboard than the mic. I’m not quick enough on my feet to man a stage. There I was, the first time on stage since that karaoke night on the cruise ship (which would have been a good set-up with me just adding “I killed.”). I was goofily panicked but not nervous. I noticed one guy’s hand shaking as he kept pulling out his list. It didn’t feel like that. It felt safe. Like you were among colleagues and not a hostile audience. I wish I had done better. I wish I had thought to take a selfie of me on stage. I wish it could have been a fantasy-come-true moment for me. But, then, hey, I’m a writer; it will be.  Still moping about my rejection notice from NBC's Late Night Writers Workshop. I pulled out the one essay question earlier, since it dovetailed so nicely with the SNL video they posted on-line. So, what the heck, while I'm at it, I'm just going to post all my various essay answers over the years. Maybe this'll force me to write brand new ones to the 4 or 5 questions they seem to rotate through each cycle. Maybe read them and avoid my pitfalls, whatever they may be...
From 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  Once upon a time, the National Rifle Association thought it was going to open a theme restaurant in New York City (Suck on that, Dr. Jekyll's! Later for you, Mission to Mars!) As PHC was in NYC that the time, it seemed like something to go for. And what better way than to run it through one of their regular bits, Cafe Bouef, the snooty French restaurant. I think it came out pretty well. It over lapped pretty well with my own penchant for writing restaurant sketches. However, they did not. And it was kind of a typical bit that would not lend itself to re-submission later on to others, so it's just been loitering on my hard drive until now... CAFE BOUEF: NRA EditionFrom 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  Ok, and here we are, a sketch I have absolutely no recollection of. None. It was written with my sometimes writing partner and I found the emails where I ran it by him before submitting it. I think pharmaceutical ads were just beginning to be aired and around this time. I had certainly done one for Cracked where the side-effects outnumbered the effects, which was the basis of a lot of ad parodies at the time. These commercials have now settled in a regular part of our lives and they've wisely moved most of the side-effects to magazine ads and internet pages that you need to read. It's a weird hybrid of a sketch, I set it up as a show sponsor, but it turns into an interview sketch. It is a decent satire of the Big Pharma before it was as big as it is now. It didn't get used by PHC and I don't ever remember submitting it anywhere else, so, here it is, pulled from the brink of obscurity for all you blog readers. Let us present: Pill ProgramFrom 1999 to 2004-ish, I was one of the contributing writers for Garrison Keillor's renowned radio show "A Prairie Home Companion." I learned a lot of things there, mostly how to spell 'prairie." It was a solid gig and I'm proud of my work there. But, like any other job, there were...things...  Oh, look, another pharma parody! This one was a rewrite of an old Cracked magazine piece I did. Also inspired by SNL's Happy Fun Ball. They are fun bits to write, as you can just do a stream-of-consciousness run of the various things that can go wrong. It's a staple of comedy, runs of words that play off each over, sound alike, get worse and worse, or more absurd. It's just weird that I submitted this bit so closely after I submitted the other bit. But, when you're trying to come up with material, you can't get too choosy about what and when you send it. But, unlike the Cracked version, the set up is pretty straight forward. It's the disclaimers that go nuts and completely contradict the commercial. Especially the fact that the first three things side effects are the exact things the commercial copy says it doesn't do. Too subtle? ULTI-MED |
Dan FiorellaFreelance writer, still hacking away. 
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