Night of the Unnamed Comics in Novato

It’s nice that a comics came all the way out to sleepy old Novato to put on a show as they did at San Marin High School. Novato doesn’t offer much that much that warrants getting out of our bunny slippers. And these days, we don’t get much to laugh about — unless you think Trump or Epstein are funny.

So even though it was a Night of the Unnamed Comics (no names were listed), we went. We left an hour and a half hour later, all 4 of us saying “not bad.” Faint praise, I know.

The morning after, I had comedy hangover. I had many laughs last night. But what laughs didn’t I get? It was such a diverse group of comedians. Two were black, one Latino, a woman experimenting with being lesbian, a man from Mumbai, one might have been Israeli… he didn’t say. The show should have been edgy, topical, timely…right?

These days Sydney Sweeny is capitalizing on her genes to sell jeans. Previously, she sold soap made from her bath water. Surely, you could do something with that.

Instead, we got a lot of jokes made of us, like how we looked. Don’t worry, not racially. One guy drew attention to himself by looking too buff. Another for looking like he had an attitude. We got grief about how we sat.

“This guy thinks he’s in show business. He’s got his feet on the stage.”

That will teach him to sit in the front row. We were careful not to and so, escaped the wrath of the comics. We know about Cobbs/Comedy Club-level comedy and stand-up is our favorite Netflix genre (Go, Nate Bargatze!). We knew heckling the crowd can be part of the act. That’s exactly why we choose to sit in the shadows like the Batman. Veteran comedy clubbers know never to sit in the front row.

Was there too much of crowd heckling yesterday or am I getting old? I admit I just don’t get it. Don’t point me out. I’m not funny. I’m paying to see you. Don’t make me the butt of your joke. Get your own material.

Also, it seemed like they were all begging for our applause. Too much of “Let’s here it for [next comic],” “let’s hear it for [last comic],” “clap if you’re lesbian” got next to nothing in response so it became “clap if you’re married,” “clap if you live in Novato.”

“Novato” was said so often and so carefully, it started to sound weird.

Still, I would go to see them again. This was a brave bunch that ventured out to the hinterlands. Only this time, I would ask them to be themselves. We may all appear white, hetero and well off. You might think driving into Novato, with the neat streets, no smashed glass, no bars on the windows, landscaped lawns under always sunny skies, young white parents with strollers, so many dogs that aren’t pit bulls, that we don’t appreciate a good joke. We might be exclusive and privileged. But we’re not racist, fascist or homophobic. At least we don’t think we are.