Indeed, so many choices; where do I begin.  Since the person asking me for my best worst story is a comedian friend of mine in England for a book he’s completing, I thought I’d kill two comics with one stoner.   And, since it’s a London project, let’s start with probably my worst gig I ever had in England.  Now.  Many of my followers know of my incessant ranting and panting of how great the London comedy scene was and how I rode the wave as long as I could, and was ultimately brought down by British agents, who really only needed to push me a little further on my own petard.

New York Said Fuck YOU! 

After moving to NYC in 91, initially to interview the great comedian Alan King for a book I was writing at the time, I decided to spend a month in the city of my birth, although I was born in Long Island.  But, Manhattan was the core of the boroughs and through an odd connection through the Sex Pistols film Sid and Nancy, I ended up getting an apartment/converted hotel room at the world infamous Chelsea Hotel, or as the insider residents called it, the Hotel Chelsea.

Sandy Baron was a comedian, actor, and improviser, whose role as Charles ‘Chuck’ Hookstratten in the 1966-67 NBC series “Hey, Landlord”, and better known to my generation as indeed himself as the corned beef roundtable narrator of Woody Allen’s 1984 ode to small time entertainers “Broadway Danny Rose,” but was also returning character Jack Clomps on Seinfeld, as well as famously playing legendary comedian Lenny Bruce on Broadway.  But for me, there is only one role.  That of Stanley Bard, the manager of The Chelsea Hotel in Alex Cox’s 1986 film “Sid and Nancy,” which was about the last days and death of the Sex Pistols’ Sid Vicious (as brilliantly portrayed by “Churchill actor” Gary Oldman) and his knife-wielding live-in girlfriend, Nancy Spungun, Oscar worthy-ly portrayed by Chloe Webb.  It was Sandy Baron who recommended me to Stanley Bard, the manager of the Hotel Chelsea and whom Stanley was portraying in the film. My 30 days at the Chelsea extended to an incredible 14 years maintaining apartment 507 and included living with my then girlfriend Kathrine and getting to know all sorts of other residents such as Dee Dee Ramone, a wonderful artist for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine, Richard Bernstein, and Viva one of Warhol’s so-called “Superstars”. During that time, I met in various stages of passing: Woody Allen, Arthur Miller, Keith Richards, Angelina Jolie, Drew Barrymore, and Ethan Hawk. Living at the Chelsea was a purposeful change-up from literally 10 years banging around The Comedy Store and indeed was my entrée into a writing career. I’ll need to devote entire chapter to my Chelsea life whenever I get around to writing that book people keep suggesting I do, but for right now, I want to focus on my worst comedy gig. Or one of them anyways.

The only break I got stand-up-wise in New York of consistent comedy spots, was Silver Friedman, who took-over the Improv at 44^th and 9^th, it’s original location when Budd moved west; where Jerry Seinfeld, Larry David, Andy Kaufman and Carol Liefer launched their fine careers.   Like Mitzi with The Comedy Store, Silver got The Improv as part of her divorce settlement, and rumor had it her lawyer got Budd to sign a covenant that he couldn’t open an Improv within 100 miles of New York. So when Silver’s incarnation of The Improv shuttered, mostly due I assume to overdevelopment in the Times Square area, I literally had no other clubs to work. Lucien Hold at The Comic Strip kept teasing me how good I was but never gave me work. I did a big bringer at Caroline’s, brought over 60 people thanks to Katherine who was working Comedy Central at the time, but I never got actually booked at what would soon become the big business sucking out of the smaller clubs NYC comedy flagship. And, although I signed with a really good New York book agent, and did a play or two, my father, who was ill, implored me to “go back to London” once more. For him. And, so in 1995, I kissed Katherine goodbye and that I’d “be back in 3 weeks” and there I went.

Again, it’s entire chapter about my London comedy life and how great it was, everything I’ve always dreamed of and more. But, for the purposes of the book for my friend William Wilding, I’d like to tell you the tale of “Stage Death”.

 Cosmic Justice

The Cosmic Comedy Club was a really cool comedy club. At 177 Fulham Palace Road in Hammersmith London, it was just a train or short cab ride away. I had already done something there before I ever did comedy there. I was in a film playing “the American big time TV producer”; the Cosmic being the filming location of an important scene. And when I first started doing comedy in London again (I first played the London Comedy Store 3 times in 1982) I did a gig which happened to award 100 Pounds to the best act of the night as voted by the audience, and I won and won against all the local British comics on the bill. That contest was at The Cosmic. So, I got known a little bit by the owner of the club, a woman named Joss. She started giving me regular spots and I don’t remember how many I did, but I do remember the last time I did a gig there.  Believe me; I wished I didn’t.

It was a Friday night and I started my gigs that night at Simon Randall’s Ha Bloody Ha comedy club in Ealing, which was like doing an early gig in Pasadena then doing another gig in Santa Monica. And these things never time out right. One gig starts late, you call the second gig, they say they’re running behind, then after you hang up, the next comic doesn’t show so they put on the headliner. Total chaos unless there wasn’t.   I did my little “stormed it” in Ealing, then got a cab straight to Hammersmith to do my spot at the Cosmic Comedy Club.

When I got to the Cosmic, it was a packed house. 350 men and women in the crowd, drinking and laughing. What I didn’t know about was who they were laughing at. Comedian Noel Britten from Bath, England. And what I didn’t know about Noel was that his act at the time was largely based on “how stupid Americans are”.   Now. Going back to my touring Canada days, playing every Yuk-Yuks from Toronto to Moose Jaw, I already had my built in opener, which was designed to “let the steam outta the room” a little up front and to show “them” that I knew their game.  I would always open my touring act this way:

“Good evening. My name is Steven Alan Green and I am from Hollywood, Los Angeles California, the United States of America!”

Then I’d just stand there like Superman. Every single time, the audience would do a mass “boooo!”. I would then feign trying to figure it out and then say:

“Ah! I know where I went wrong. Let’s try this again. Please welcome Steven Alan Green!”

To my delight, the audience would applaud even greater this time and then I would say into the mic:

“My name’s Steven Alan Green and I am from London!”

The crowd would cheer; then I would strike a second time…

“So. Do we have any Americans here tonight? I hate those bleedin’ wankers.”

The crowd burst into laughter every single time and loved me from then on out throughout my set. But this time, this night at the Cosmic Comedy Club was quite a different experience indeed.  Remember British comedian Noel Britten and his anti-American act?

So, by the time I got to The Cosmic, Noel was finishing up a rip-roaring storming killing set. I wasn’t paying attention to it because I had to get ready for my set, which was to immediately follow. Noel finishes to a virtual standing-O and leaves the stage. And not his fault whatsoever, he leaves the stage empty. This was because the emcee, a comic named Wara, was nowhere to be found. I mean the stage was empty with all that great comedy inertia generated by Noel just dissipating, having nowhere to go other than that bad place. After an interminable 3 minutes, Wara hastily returns to the mic and says without any sort of professional encouragement to either me or the audience: “Please welcome your next comedian. He’s from America.” Didn’t even say my name. The crowd began to boo even before I hit the stage.

The crowd began to boo even before I hit the stage.

Thinking (stupidly, as it turns out) that, “Ah HAH! This will play right into my opening gambit’s hands, I felt more confident than ever. I leaned into the mic and said with all force and bravado: “My name is Steven Alan Green and I am from Hollywood, Los Angeles California, the United States of America!”. Well. This was akin to literally throwing gasoline on a fire. The entire audience of what must’ve seemed like 350 office blokes, all started to shout back at me, and heckle me and put down America and they just wouldn’t even give me a chance. I tried to let them get it out of their system, but the more I did nothing, the more they spewed drunken venom at me in particular, simply because I was an American. I finally called them all “cunts” and left the stage. I passed the night manager, some uptight stupid office type girl who rather than giving me a shoulder to cry on, she scolded me even more. I left dejected, hurt, confused. I tried to straighten it out with Joss days later, but wasn’t having it and maybe months later I called her and apologized, even though I didn’t think I was entirely at fault here, if even at all. Her response, and I’ll never forget this. Joss said to me on the phone: “I accept your apology, but you can never work my club again.”   Great. Cosmic justice. Couple of years later at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, I would run into Noel Britten, who was doing a show at the same venue I was. I remember we sat and talked and what a nice bloke.

The worst part of this story? Now that I’ve written it and remembered it, it’s not by far my worst ever gig. Having said that, it’ll do for now.

This is Steven Alan Green and I’m an American!

For The Hollywood Dog,

This has been Steven Alan “Whoofy” Green

Sag, The Naked Blogger, 4/22/18

stevenalangreen.com

Well, just when I not only thought I was losing again, but with the advent of the closing of iconic comedy venue Nerd Melt last week, along comes The Eggemon Comedy Festival.

Then again, the newest eggemon comedy flag is the brainchild of eggemon comedy wunderkind Danny Lobell.

And, for a guy who when he was just a kid, befriended Jackie Mason, and since passing through the maturation process, his eggemon comedy testies have grown and dropped to the point of Danny becoming synonymous with some of the most famous and respected comedians in the business, well, let’s just say we expect nothing less from now on from the boy.   Just back from a successful run of his one man show “Broke as a Joke” at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland, Danny not only continues to turn the heat up on his long running main creative venture, his podcast, he’s starting a eggemon comedy festival.

Modern Day Philosophers

….is Danny’s podcast and in it he interviews guests with a close and careful eye and asks them to answer the unanswerable based on the host’s choice of philosopher or deep thinking writer.  For me, Danny chose “Mr. Cheerful”, the wonderfully talented ex-Vaudevillian, Franz Kafka.  When I did it, Danny asked me about my infamous “Jerry Lewis adventure” and really got into the psychological underpinnings as to why Jerry affected me so deeply, and not just in my pockets; but in my heart.

Whatever’s left of it after that bastard Lewis tore it up into a million pieces and never even thanked me!  OY!  A sampling of the previous guests include Fred Armisen, Colin Quinn, Brian Regan, Gad Elmaleh, Bill Burr, Lewis Black, Maria Bamford, Marc Maron, Aisha Tyler, Jackie Mason, Reggie Watts, Mayim Bialik, and Robert Klein.  Seems any comedian of import passes through MDP as a matter of ritual; kinda like a podcast Bar Mitzvah.   Danny also books oddballs by evidence of my own appearance on MDP last year.

Danny’s a Jew

And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.  Hell, I’m a Jew myself and have been since a week after my birth, they cut off the end of my dick like I was so much sandwich meat at the deli.  So be it.  But, Danny’s a practicing Jew and in all this time, after how fluently he reads from the Torah on Passover, and how much he knows tradition, he wouldn’t need to practice anymore, but I digress into bad punery.

Names, Names, and some Not So Much Names But Good Solid eggemon Comedy Talent Nonetheless

While truly great comics like Charles Chaplin, Peter Sellers and Groucho Marx are still unavailable, Danny and co-producing partners Micha Bleich and Genevieve Joy (both creative working comics), along with Danny’s wife and partner in his wacky life in eggemon comedy, Kylie (who does the PR), have created a festival without a quote unquote professional venue.

True to Danny’s form of “Why not?”, the first (annual?) Eggemon Comedy Festival will be held in Danny and Kylie’s backyard.  And it would sound am-dram, were it not for the incredible comedians who are actually on the 3 day event.  Including yours truly.  I don’t mean I’m “great”; I’m just trying to finish this blog so I can grab lunch.

Todd Glass, Jenny Zagrino, Erica Rhodes and Mark Schiff; to name a few top notch even famous comedians 

These are national headlining comedians, all who’ve been on the magic box of television and yet, still maintain credibility.   Why on Earth they’d be willing to risk their fine reputation by performing in a backyard says as much about their light sense of humor about everything, as it does about Danny’s unending nerve to stand up before compromise and flick its tenuous eyebrow.

I caught up with Danny as he was running away from me on Robertson Boulevard and shouted a few questions at him:

TUE 3:56PM

Steven
I’m writing a blog about The Eggemon Comedy Festival. Will have it published by tonight. Have some questions. I’m doing a conference call soon. Can we talk in a couple hours? Just a few short questions, which I can also send to you in messenger. And thanks for your call just now.
Daniel Lobell
Thanks; thats great, sure, what are the questions?
Steven
Is this another Danny & Kylie production? And if so, what is her role and what is your role?
Steven
I have about 5 questions.
Daniel Lobell
It’s run by me, Micha Bleich and Genevieve Joy
Micha and Gen are also both comedians.
Steven
Ok. Is this a first of an annual festival?
Daniel Lobell
Correct spelling is Micah bleich.
Steven
Is the plan to eventually move it out of your home and into a public space?

Daniel Lobell
no plan yet
Steven
Ok
Daniel Lobell

Maybe to move it into a bigger yard.
Steven
Is there a particular philosophy to the festival?
Daniel Lobell
No just wanted to put together a fun weekend of shows in my backyard.
Steven
Ok. How do the neighbors feel about eggemon comedy?
Daniel Lobell
We will find out!….hahha.
Steven
I noticed on the website there’s no venue or address listed.
Was that my oversight?
Daniel Lobell
Its only given out to people once they buy tickets.

Steven
Gotcha. Ok. One more question.
Daniel Lowell
Yes.
Steven
What is the meaning of life?
Daniel Lobell
Giving.
Steven
Thank you. Interview over. Oh yes. Does Kylie have a credit in the festival?
Daniel Lobell
Haahah
Steven

And goodnight.
Daniel Lobell
Shes helping me with PR for it.
Daniel Lobell
Its sponsored by Stand up! Records and One Table
Steven

Thank you for your time and I can’t wait to perform on “Bookshelf” at your festival May 11.

Danny Lobell

I’m looking forward to it as well.  I consider you the funniest comedian in Los Angeles. 

Steven

Really?

Danny Lobell

No, but you’re the one controlling the keyboard to this blog. 

For more information

on The Eggemon Comedy Festival and to purchase tickets, simply go to their website.

Read my review of Danny Lobell’s one-man show “Broke as a Joke” here at The Jewish Journal.

Hear Danny Lobell interview your not so humble writer on his podcast Modern Day Philosophers.

For The Hollywood Dog, this has been Steven Alan “Whoofy” Green, the Naked Blogger.

Sag 4/17/18

StevenAlanGreen.com

In this blog, writer/comedian Steven Alan Green has the password to good writing: Wi-Fi.

As a writer Wi-Fi is essential.

I spend at least 5 hours a day at the laptop.  I write blogs and screenplays.  Like any worker out there, I like to have the best working conditions.  Those conditions include having good Wi-Fi.  I don’t like to write at home. Never have.  I like to be out around people.  Coffee houses are the best for me.

Wi-Fi and Coffee

I’m a creature of habit.  I know who I am and what I like.  In order for me to be completely happy and ready to write, I need to have conditions just right. Good coffee is a must. A decent place to park, where I don’t have to keep worrying about the meter.  And great Wi-Fi.  There are plenty of great coffee houses in LA.  My experience dictates that it’s very hard to find one with all three elements.  Coffee, easy parking, and free Wi-Fi.

I’m not the only writer out there

Obviously I’m not the only writer who likes to write in public.  Writing in public makes me feel like I’m part of some imaginary writing office.  I’m usually seated next to other writers.  We’re all typing away with our magical fingers. We all want that big Hollywood deal.  I might be sitting there writing a comedy and the guy next to me is writing a drama.  You can almost tell what others are writing by the way they dress.

Casual fashion usually means comedy

Ten to one the guy sitting there tapping away and wearing a T-shirt and jeans is writing a comedy.  The girl sitting nearby and wearing a buttoned up sweater is writing a drama.   Me?  I’m wearing a black leather biker jacket, a shark’s tooth around my neck and black ladies tights.  Don’t judge.  An important part of writing is research.  Need Wi-Fi for that.

Some coffee houses Wi-Fi sucks

It’s hard to find all the correct working conditions you want.  The first point of call is good free parking.  That’s tough in LA.  Sometimes there will be a lot, but they usually only validate for an hour.  Street parking can be like jumping up to feed the meter on the hour and that is annoying.   Great uninterrupted Wi-Fi is key and sometimes there are too many writers all working on the same signal.  Can slow things down a bit, which can be a real creative drag.

We all want the same thing

Everybody out here is reaching for the brass ring.  Their imaginations are on fire and fueled by a double espresso over ice.  It’s really rather inspiring because none of us know who will be the eventual winner.  In order to find out, you’ll have to Google it one day on Wi-Fi.

Find a good coffee house in LA with Wi-Fi

For The Hollywood Dog this is Steven Alan Green 4/17/17 

The United Airlines fiasco may end up being the opening shot over the bow of a new revolution in this country.

We’ve learned this last election that our votes don’t really matter. The insiders in Washington are going to elect whomever they want. Since all politicians are owned by corporate interests, we, the consumer, have all the power. The problem came 30 years ago with deregulation by Ronald Reagan. Basically, the giant corporations can do what they want with impunity. However. If anything, Americans are an inventive people. It will take some time, but with the market economy, the internet, and genius pioneers like Elon Musk, the only vote that really counts will be at the cash register. Nostalgia replaced the resentment we had at Blockbuster. Remember when we all thought they were dicks? All we need to do is make the giant corporations irrelevant by alternative spending. That Chinese guy dragged off United? He’s our Betsy Ross.

We, the People….

Ever since I can remember, everything in this country – from the way government ran the country to what television programs were on – to the ever competing instant chocolate milk industry – was solely controlled by special interest.  The special interest of the American citizen’s tastes and needs.  That’s it.  Sure, there were monopolies in the early part of the last century, the biggest break-up since Sonny and Cher, the Rockefellers stranglehold over the American automobile driver through Standard Oil.  All that was broken up in 1911 when the US government stepped up to the plate, hitting a grand-homer over the centerfield fence in the world-series of Big Business against their own customers, us, the American people.

On May 15, 1911, the Supreme Court ordered the dissolution of Standard Oil Company, ruling it was in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. The Ohio businessman John D. Rockefeller entered the oil industry in the 1860s and in 1870, and founded Standard Oil with some other business partners. – NY Times

What we have to remember is that we, the consumer, are the power-holders in this country.

Work strikes benefits the workers, but also assumed the social guilt of the middle-class lettuce buyers.  Today, everyone is concerned about gluten-free, cage-free and not made by Chinese slave children, innocuous stuff.  We must do more than that.  Much more.  Saving and protecting ourselves is not gonna cut it.  We have to think as one and form a vast army of purchasers who can do amazing things, such as drop the valued stock price of United Airlines by literally a billion dollars, less than 24 hours after the Sky Nazi’s dragged the good doctor off the plane like he was a dusty old rug.  How shameful.  And, when you think that it was all because four United Airlines employees needed to get the flight to get to work, you really wonder.   If the high and middle management of a major airlines doesn’t know how to hire the right personnel and train them professionally, then how do we know management is capable of hiring the right engineers and pilots?  We don’t. In fact, you can bet your bottom dollar, they don’t care.

They probably have some secret scam going with betting on a big fatal crash.

After all, their actuaries, I’m quite sure, have already calculated how much publicity generated revenue an airplane crash can actually generate in the end.  Remember Tylenol?  Take a pill for neck pain and in less than 30 minutes, you’re dead.  They made some serious changes, such as the hard to open bottle caps, but lest not forget.  Within a month, they were all over the news with assurances their product was safe.  And, with safe comes effective.  It’s a win win for the giant corps who put cold corporate bottom line over our literal lives on a daily basis.  It’s always worse than you think.  If we get sick or die or go broke?  There’s always someone somewhere profiting from our tragedy. Let’s turn that around buy buying smarter, doing it in organized online groups and willing at any given moment to stage an immediate customer walkout.  I’m so proud of this country for slapping back at the bitch that United Airlines has become.  After all, we’re the Americans.  The corporations are merely the colonizers.

One if by land, two if by sea.

Three if by air.

For The Hollywood Dog, this is Steven Alan Green 4/11/17

When I was a young adult trying to mimic what adults do, one of the things I was fascinated with were the Dean Martin Roasts.  The reason was because God-like Vegas type celebrities slung personal insult to the most vulnerable of them, including a 142 year old George Burns.  When I first heard about Roast Battle, it didn’t sound too sophisticated.  Because I was skeptical, and even after I saw it, I was dumbfounded how and why people would find this fun to do, and consequently hard to watch.  But then, I was led down a secret corridor by a young comedian who just came to town.

Al Bahmani is a funny guy.

From Houston, Al is a really funny comedy writer and performer.  Al Bahmani knew I was making a comeback and therefore thought that the Roast Battle might be good for me.  And since contenders choose each other, I should’ve been given an early clue that this is not a game of destroy the other guy.  This is a game of testing each other’s metal.  This is a matter of violent verbal initiation into the gang of comedians.  Just like the Dean Martin roasts made fun of George Burns age, so did George himself, who famously said, “Having sex at my age is like trying to shoot pool with a rope.”  Self-deprecation is your shield.  You are Captain American Comedy when you hold the shield of humility in front of you at all times.

We’re all vulnerable; nobody is immune.

And so I took Al up on meeting and collaborating, to help each other achieve the best one-liners, no holds barred. When the big fight night came to be, Al and I met on the small but intimate Belly Room Stage at The Comedy Store in front of a wildly enthusiastic full house.  Host Brian Moses introduces us and DING! DING! DING! “Let’s ROAST!” unleashes Moses.  Al starts.  His were good.  Hitting me right away with “Steven Alan Green looks like Marc Maron if you buried him in a pet cemetery.”  BOOM!  Big laugh.

Then it was my turn.

I made fun of his name I think. It was lame.   Then Al again, then me, then Al, then me with my big one, which was so filthy, by all laws, I cannot rightfully publish the line here.  But, trust me, it was ripe.  By a very close margin, I won my first Roast Battle right out the gate.  I lost the next, tied for losing the third time, won the following one, then just lost again.  I’m scheduled to battle again for the 5^th time this June 6 at The Comedy Store.  Check it out.  I’m going up against another oldie, but goodie, comedian Adam Gropman.  It’s gonna be comedy dinosaur verses comedy dinosaur.  Should be plenty o laughs.  Be there or watch it live via the Periscope app.  Tuesday, June 6, 11:15/30 PM approximate start time.  The Belly Room, The Comedy Store, the one on Sunset.  The only one.

See you there, Adam.

For The Hollywood Dog, this is Steven Alan Green 4-4-17

Roast Battle.  Catch the Roast Battle TV show on Comedy Central!

Troy Conrad Photography

https://roastbattle.tumblr.com/post/152434316971/record-matching-fight-card-fires-on-all-cylinders?is_related_post=1

www.stevenalangreen.com