Aren’t You Funny?

“God you are so freaking funny. You know that right? So funny. Like really, everyone says so. Everyone at work, everyone in your friends group, your family. Like so funny. You know what? You should start a podcast! Just you and someone else, talking about whatever you want to talk about. You’re so funny, you could make a lot of money doing that. Yessir, you really should do something like that. You’d go viral! All the really funny people go viral!”

It excited you to hear people say that about you, didn’t it? It makes you feel powerful, the ability to make people laugh. Intoxicating and validating. All that extra positive feedback was just so flattering. That’s how you got into this stupid mess you’re in now.

A podcast, what the fuck were you thinking? Starting a podcast. They’ve been around for years, there are an infinite amount of podcasts in the world. And what is your pitch, the way you summarize your show? “Just the two of us talking about whatever!” Oh my god, you idiot. There’s like a million podcasts that are just, “Two of us talking about whatever”. What makes yours stand out from theirs? Stupid, naive funny guy.

You didn’t do enough research into this before you began. Everyone said you were funny, that was enough. Just get a friend you share a good rapport with, a couple of cheap microphones, google “How to make a podcast”, and you’re set. Put up a few episodes and then set up a Patreon. Why shouldn’t people be paying you for this already? You’ve been doing it for all of a month.

But after that third episode it hit you: this isn’t good. You’re not doing a good job and you know it. Sure, people are being encouraging and giving you listens, but you’ve listened too. You hate it! You’ve heard what funny people sound like on podcasts and it’s not you! It’s just a few forced jokes and awkward laughter. Sometimes you sound like you’re making an intelligent point, but you’re just repeating something you read on Facebook that morning. You fraud!

Should have just been happy being the funny guy at the office. That was fine! People liked you, it alleviated work tension, made you feel good about yourself. Now you think you’re some sort of “performer”? You never realized how much work is involved in being funny on purpose. You aren’t a writer or a comedian. You’re not an artist, you have a Business degree.

You can only try to forget that comedy open mic you went to. What were you thinking? Like you were going to be the next George Carlin. He made it look so effortless, just sitting on the stage and spouting off one brilliant thing after the other. You didn’t really plan what you were going to say, just stood up there and waited for your “naturally funny” talents to shine through. The other comics going up had notes and stuff they were checking before they went up, but you didn’t. You had natural talent, you don’t have to write or work hard.

It was the longest four minutes of your life. No one really laughed, but no one jeered either. Just four minutes of hard, uncomfortable silence. “What else, what else…” you mumbled nervously when you ran out of things to say. You practically vaulted off the stage and out the door. So happy you didn’t bring anybody.

It’s dawned on you: you aren’t “funny” in that way. You’re just funnier than the people you work with, who aren’t that funny in the first place. To them you seem next level because you always have a sarcastic comment or dramatic metaphor at the ready. And sure, you like being funny that way. But to do a whole piece? Come up with a humorous opinion for every single topic out there and present it like it’s fresh, like Jerry Seinfeld didn’t already cover it? You fool.

So now here you sit, at your computer with the empty audio file onscreen, wondering if you can just tell your friend/cohost that you want to stop doing the podcast you’ve only done five times so far. Maybe it’s too soon to “give up”, they won’t understand why you stopped so quickly. They’ll think you quit because you didn’t go “viral” after a month. But you never really thought you would. The chances of going viral get slimmer every year. The novelty of putting your proposal video onto TikTok isn’t as heartwarming as it was years ago.

You’ve even made fun of a few TikTok proposals on your podcast, because you didn’t have anything prepared to discuss. It felt good to make fun of them, you and your cohost laughed and laughed at how stupid they were. You’ve discovered a lot of comedy is just being mean to people. It feels good in the moment, and even if it seems harsh you have to stand by it. The audience is getting it wrong. You’re a nice person, right?

But who would you be if you weren’t the “funny one”? You’re not particularly bright, you have a Business degree. You’re not “hot”, that’s for sure. Are you trying to be funny to appear more fuckable? That doesn’t seem the way to go. Why did you put yourself out there like this in the first place? Are you really that bored with your life? Get a less-humiliating hobby then!

Look, it’s not so bad. Just stop doing your podcast. In a month or so no one will remember it and you can just kind of settle back into your groove. You’re still “funny”, right? Just because you don’t want to record yourself talking for an hour every week and share it to the world doesn’t mean you have zero worth. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You don’t need to define yourself by how good you are at making people laugh.

Hey that was a pretty smart observation. Maybe you should talk about it on the podcast.