Please Don’t Laugh at My Jokes
If You Want to Be a Stand-Up Comic, You've Got to Learn How to Bomb
My heart was beating a mile a minute. Perspiration started to form in my armpits. Soon I would smell like the cab driver who’d brought me here. I was one minute into my stand-up act. And all I could hear were the horrible thoughts racing through my mind.
Oh God, they’re not laughing. No one is laughing. Do the next joke. Setup, punch line … nothing. A bead of sweat slowly ran down the side of my face. The next one, do the next one. This always crushes.
Except this time, …
