A Real Poem, No Gimmicks

 

I bet some of you are wondering why I’m here right now.

In fact, I’m willing to head on down to Las Vegas and put good money on that.

I’m sure that you’re all saying to yourselves,

“What in the hell is he doing up on that stage?

This kid’s the living, breathing definition of an amateur.

Look at his legs jiggling.

That little twitch he has.

There isn’t a soul alive who couldn’t sense that he’s nervous.

Where’s the stage presence?
I’m not seeing any.

Why doesn’t somebody just yank this nobody offstage with a hook and let someone who actually has experience and confidence show him how to entertain the crowd?”

Quite frankly, I sometimes wonder why I’m here myself.

And then I realize exactly why I’m here.

To prove that you don’t have to be picture-perfect to still put on a great show.

I’m the furthest thing from flawless that you’re ever going to come across in your life.

I’m not one of those magazine models with an immaculate figure.

But I’ll always give you an honest night’s effort every time you see me.

When you’re watching me in action, you’re not getting a whole bunch of smoke and mirrors.

I don’t bring a deejay with me.

I don’t bring a bunch of scantily-clad models, backup dancers, or a hype-man with me.

I don’t bring lions, leopards, tigers, or bears with me.

I don’t bring a high-definition camera capable of filming crystal-clear 1080p footage with me.

You’re not going to hear Michael Buffer or Jimmy Lennon Jr. introducing me.

You’re not going to see a bunch of seizure-inducing strobe lights before I come onstage.

You’re not going to see demonstrations of pyrotechnical wizardry by special effects masters.

I just bring myself and whatever I think is going to give you a good laugh or two.

If it does, then I can go home knowing that I actually somehow managed to do my job well.

If it doesn’t, then it’s clear and obvious to me that changes are going to have to be made.

Please don’t think that I just go home and have the nerve to believe that everything I do works.

It’s not as if I meet with an entire development team and intricately plan out a series of revisions.

But I do go back and watch all of the old footage to see what clicked and what didn’t.

I don’t like to get rid of skits that I’d spent a fair amount of time working on.

But if I have to, I’ll do it.

It’s a small price to pay, but one that I’m perfectly willing to pay to ensure your satisfaction.

Sometimes I don’t exactly tell the best jokes in the world, but a lot of it comes to me on the spot.

I could very well come onstage and just read to you from a book or off of cue cards.

But that would be an insult to all of you.

The greatest performers of all time knew how to rely on their natural instincts.

Not everything they did was prewritten days, if not weeks, if not months in advance.

Where would the fun be in me going word-for-word off of a piece of paper in my hand?

Wouldn’t you want to hear me make comments on what I see on the night of the show?

One of you could be in the crowd wearing a T-shirt with some kind of a catchphrase on it.

It gives me a way to connect with you when I interpolate that catchphrase into my material.

I know what it feels like to see someone two times in a row and get the same show twice.

I may not be the best in the world at what I do, but you can rest assured I’ll never rip you off.

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