When Jason branded me a joke killer a couple of months ago, I thought it was a bunch of hogwash kept in a large vat of hooey. I have been proved wrong every day since. I have a tendency to crush jokes everywhere, in an effort to remain the only funny person in any room I enter. It works for me, but occasionally nice, well meaning comedians get caught up in my whirl of joke killing and I end up hurting good people. 
When we sent out an email about the start of our new Monday night open mic, many people responded with requests to do the show. One man, however, unexpectedly bore the brunt of my wrath and it just so happened to be, hands down, the nicest dude in the DC Comedy scene. I couldn't feel worse about it so I decided to make things right by posting this email thread I had with one Haywood Turnipseed Jr. (I guess that is his real name.)
[The picture above is the only one I could find of someone named Haywood.]
From Haywood: Is there sign-up prior to the show? Or is it 1st come, 1st serve. Thanks for the info too.
Peace
Haywood Turnipseed, Jr.
Perfectly nice email question. What a sweetheart this man is.
From me: Just come on down. First come, may turn into a lottery but we'll see.
Starting off perfectly cordial. At this point I am sober and not breathing fire.
Haywood: Thanks again; I''m not going to be able to make this week, obviously, with the late email and all. Any-who, I'll be down next week for sure, good Lord willing and the creek don't rise.
Here is where the problems begin. I thought he was giving me shit because i took too long to get back to him. Not the case. He emailed this to me during our show. That's what was obvious. To everyone but me.
Me: wow...sorry we offended you...
see you next week, obviously...
What a dick! Are you kidding me? Who raised me?! What an embarrassment I am to the comedy community and world at large. Also, very drunk at this point and will no longer be answering emails in this state. I might has well have been clubbing baby seals on stage at the Improv. Go fuck yourself, me.
Haywood: I'm sorry; I wasn't offended; I was trying to be funny. My own email, that I myself sent to you, was late...... I think the Good Lord comment confused everything. I'll be more straight forward in emails sent in the future.
The Future:
I was happy to receive the invite but I was not able to attend; I hope that I offended no one by my own faith, in my own humor. Sometimes I am the only one to understand myself; obviously. ... Please find no offenses in this email, as I am just learning how to bring my comedy all together. Also, am I still allowed to come out next week?
Peace
Haywood (just a normal guy w/feelings...obviously)
Are you kidding me?! Oh my god, I want to crawl into the jaws of a lion. I am clearly in an email war with a Southern Gentleman/superhero. My good sirs, I am going to hell in a handbasket full of sweet tea. Haywood, "I do declare" you the nicest man on earth.
Me: I'm an asshole.
People, if you see Haywood around the scene, tip your hat and apologize to him on my behalf. And if you have a show, put him on it. I'm going to do my best to get him to do mine. This one's for you, Haywood.
5 comments:
Haywood is black. That photo of "Haywood" is a joke killer in and of itself.
Leave it to Hastings to play the race card. Everyone knows Haywood is black, but there are no other black Haywoods.
Actually, my father was black, and his Uncle was black, and since Black is being used as a description should I not have capitalized; that was just a random aimless thought. Any-who, thanks, eye think. I usually have some snappy comeback but not right now. However the Dale Ernhart look-a-like is an incedible likeness of my insides. Ever heard of 'a boy names Sue'; well sir, how do you do? By the way, just for the unenlighted, I am only kidding. I have no idea what color my fathers' Uncle was, how would I know that. That would mean that I knew my father; and I didn't. Not well anyway. Well, not that well.
...And yes, for the 1st time, Haywood Turnipseed Jr. is my real name. I couldn't make that up, only the slave Master could. Turnipseed, sound like an Indian Cotton-Picker don't it; or like a 'cotton-pickin Injun', it depends on who's saying it. And Haywood, well that's just ancient. I think if you look it up, that's what my name means. An Indian Cotton-Picker...yep that's me. And junior (jr.) well that's just for the Hell of it. Handbasket anyone. LOL, of course. I love killer jokes; peace.
In all the madness, I forgot to accept the apology; I accept your apology. U R Crazy; peace.
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