All my life, I've had hundreds of significant thoughts every day. But lately my brain has been working overtime on elaborate monologues. Here's one in which I come out on stage to do a stand up comedy routine...
Thank you so much. How many of you have heard my routine before? Just clap if you have? [silence] Anyone? [more silence] Anyone at all? Ah ha, trick question! I actually don't have a routine. I just come out here on stage without any idea what of I'm about to say.
But before I launch into my non-routine, I have a sort of experiment I want to try. See, I used to be an engineer. But after about 25 years it occurred to me how boring it is. I'm still a bit of a gear head, though. I like data, finding patterns, making connections. Lately I'm into studying people named “Dworkin.”
Anyone out there named “Dworkin?” Yes, really? Okay, wow, that's great. Could you stand up please? [house lights gradually turn on] Both of you? Okay! This is exciting. Wow. Wait, hold on, are you female? Have you always been female? So you're married to a Dworkin? Or is that your brother or cousin? Or both? Maybe you married your cousin? Well, could be if you're from Kentucky...
Oh you married a Dworkin? Hmm, I'm not sure this will work. You know, I've never met a female Dworkin before. [looking them over appraisingly] Hmm. Ahh. Interesting. Could you move out into the aisle. I need to get a good look at you.
In the meantime, I'd like to point out to everyone how the house lights turned on. And I didn't even ask for that. That's wonderful. It means we have a great lighting crew here tonight. You know why they're great? They're paying attention, listening to the routine. Or non-routine. They could've just set a timer when I started my set and took a nap. But they didn't do that. They were listening. And then when I started in with the audience participation, they undimmed the lights. They didn't just click them on, blinding everyone. That would've sucked. No they were real artistic about it. [to the crew...] How many of you are there? Just blink the lights to show me. Three? Great. How many of you are male? Two? How many are female? Don't laugh. Ten years ago that would be a joke. Today it's a serious question, unless you're from North Carolina.
[Two Dworkins are standing in the aisle.] A good lighting crew goes unnoticed. A bad one can ruin your evening. Like the time I took my daughter to see her friend's ballet recital. I'm not a fan of ballet. And amateur ballet makes me anxious – I'm afraid someone's gonna fall. Or fart. Or fart after falling. My plan was to wait for the house lights to dim and then close my eyes. But they didn't dim. So if I closed my eyes, those girls on stage would see that I had my eyes closed. Maybe one would get upset and fall. Or fart. Even if I wanted to watch the performance like a normal fan, the glare from the lights was giving me a headache. Finally, after intermission, someone dimmed the lights.
[Two Dworkins are still standing in the aisle.] The point is, I'm not the only one working tonight. But I'm the one you're clapping for. Or heckling. The unseen performers that are here tonight are just as deserving of your adoration. There's the lighting crew. The folks doing audio; without them I'd be [moving lips as if talking] like an idiot. Security, too. They're out there, somewhere, packing a whole lot of heat, so don't get any ideas. Someone's got a finger on the thermostat too, making sure we're comfortable. And you wondered why you had to pay 30 bucks to get in. At least most of you paid. And I get only two dollars out of that.
So let's give our unsung heroes a round of applause.
[Two Dworkins are still standing in the aisle. Finally I notice them.] Hello there? What are you two doing standing there? Are your hemorrhoids giving you that much trouble? You do have tickets, don't you? Well then sit down! Otherwise I'll have to call Security.
Wait hold on. You 're not named “Dworkin” are you?
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