The Sklar Brothers: Sklar Maps

by John Delery

On Sklar Maps, a new CD from Aspecialthing Records, the tag-team of Randy and Jason Sklar wrestles with, among other things, this critical pop-cultural question: What sort of birdbrain adman thinks he can help sell Kentucky Fried Chicken using the melody to “Sweet Home Alabama”?

At the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in Los Angeles, the identical twins bat around other amusing theories onstage while imagining that pitch meeting and others, at, say, Al Jazeera II, the MTV II of the Middle East, at least in the Sklars’ fused imaginations.

In all, the brothers, perhaps best known as the mocking hosts of the acclaimed comedy series Cheap Seats on ESPN Classic, time-travel for almost an hour between St. Louis (their childhood hometown) and LA (their home and office since 1994).

The siblings take 13 laps around the laugh track, alternately reminiscing about returning to Missouri and running into “aggressively complimentary” local comedians and comically commenting on LA landmarks or phenomena (like those passive-aggressive Prius drivers — misanthropic motorists who love the planet but hate all Earthlings).

The one negative: About half the material, while always entertaining, sounds too parochial, too you-really-had-to-be-there for non-Midwesterners and non-Californians to appreciate.

In the most inclusive bits, the Sklars pan-fry their employer: the entertainment industry. The two, whose credits range from starring in their own MTV show (Apartment 2F) to guest-starring in the movie Wild Hogs and in the HBO hits Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm, torch the showbiz apparatchiks who sometimes entertain themselves, but not the audience, with nitwit notions.

The guys also unload on a pair of pop-culture dinosaurs, exhuming the memory of extinct bad-boy comic Andrew “Dice” Clay and skewering good-old-boy country singer Charlie Daniels with the “first draft” of Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” a witty “hidden track.”

Rodney Carrington: Ten gallon comedy

by Emma Kat Richardson

Comedian Rodney Carrington has a pair of gold albums, a hilarious new book and thousands of adoring fans— not to mention a movie-writing partner in Toby Keith. But at the end of the day, the Texas native is just a down-home, simple dude that wants to make you laugh.

By Emma Kat Richardson

Beer, blow jobs, marriage and the Bible: no topic is sacred to Rodney Carrington. Over the past few years, the cowpoke comedian has grabbed America by the bootstraps with a slew of albums, stand-up specials and, most importantly, an insightful, uproarious knack for spinning tales from the Heartland.

Since the mid-90s, Carrington has been assembling a comedic identity for himself by narrating a series of events in a way that only a man with a Texas twang could prove authentic.

Carrington’s homespun humor and good-natured candor are key components of his wide-reaching appeal, and have led to the success of his album Morning Wood, which recently went gold, and the release of his first book Coming Clean, a rib-tickling look into the stories that make the man in the ten-gallon hat tick.

Checking in with Punchline Magazine, Carrington elaborates on life, success, and the best way to solve a world crisis.

I read your book. It was hilarious.
Really? Bret [Witter, Carrington’s co-writer] wrote it, and he did a great job. He listened to twenty hours of conversation. For the first two days, we talked a lot on many different things and I didn’t quite know the approach we were going to take in the beginning, because I thought, ‘What am I going to make a book out of?’ I’ve never written a book or have been associated with writing a book. Some of its older stand-up material.

When I look back on previous material, you get older, and you think different; you grow with your audience. I heard seven minutes of something I did on Sirius radio about 10 years ago, and I’m thinking, ‘God, what was I thinking?’ Way back when I came up with a lot of the material, I didn’t have kids. It was where I was in that particular part of my life, and I think Bret did a great job putting that together.

What are the advantages of putting those stories into a book as opposed to keeping them onstage?
Well, a lot of those stories were stories that haven’t been formulated into bits. I don’t know what the advantage was; I certainly didn’t set out to write a book. The company approached me and said, ‘We would like you to do a book,’ and I thought it was a great opportunity to give people that have bought records of mine in the past the explanations for how things came about.

I didn’t want to put out a book that was just my stand-up, because the things I’ve come up with are things that I’ve lived. Most of my material is all personal, and it’s unique in that way. I guess you’re more emotionally connected to your own stories.

When there have been people in the past that I’ve admired, I’ve always been interested in how they came to the place that they’re at, things that they’ve done, and I just thought that if I was going to do this book, I wanted it first and foremost to be entertaining, and also insightful about some of the things I went through early on.

I noticed that in between bits from your material, you included some really sentimental moments, like the song about your best friend who passed away.
It was important for me to put pieces of what’s real to me in the book. I’m not out to teach anybody anything; there’s no hidden agenda behind what I do. I simply want to make people laugh, and I don’t try to change anybody’s mind about anything; I just want them to laugh. My intention with the book was to make people laugh and to make them feel good.

You have a very easygoing type of narrative in your book. How much of that comes from you and how much is from Bret Witter?
I would say there’s a real healthy mixture. Bret used his writings skills. I’m not a book writer; he is. That’s what he does for a living. I made it clear to Bret from the beginning that I wanted him to have the credit for writing the book, and I would give him as much of the information as I possibly could, but he should use his own skills to do what he does. Some of it’s my voice. A lot of the things are just real honest; the presentation is partly mine, partly his.

Your album Morning Wood recently went gold. Do you see this as a defining ‘I’ve finally made it’ career moment?
The greatest hits record went gold, and the Morning Wood record went gold, but I never look at anything as a defining career moment, as in ‘Oh, I’m done!’ I look at everything as stepping stones to where I’m going next.

Where I was in that moment when I made the Morning Wood record, I look at it and see a lot of things I would have done differently. But at that time in my life, that’s where I was. I don’t feel like I’m done; I feel like the best things are yet to come.

I made comedy records, and I did a television show for two years, and I’ve enjoyed the process of each and everything I’ve done. That’s what’s most important to me: if it’s not fun, I don’t care to do it. I’m not looking at projects as trying to define myself as ‘This is it.’ I just want to make people laugh, and I want to do it as long as I possibly can.

When you were growing up, did you always want to be a comedian?
No, but I knew this: I always had the desire not to work for anyone else. I knew that was not going to be a good setting for me, and that I would never be comfortable behind a desk or a mower. Comedy was something that I discovered while I was doing theater at junior college; trying to be the best actor I could, I tried anything and everything that would scare me to death.

I tried comedy as one of those things, thinking that if I could do this, I can eliminate any kind of fear that I might have, because I thought that was one of the scariest things I could possibly do. After doing one particular play in college, I experienced laughter for the first time from an audience, and it just turned something on. I thought this would be a great way to make a living, if I could figure out a way to do it.

The first night I did comedy, people laughed. So I spent a year after that figuring out how I made people laugh that first night. In the beginning, that’s all you’re trying to do. As time goes on, you’re able to find your voice and pinpoint what you feel is funny, and you start to learn. A lot of the experiences early on cut out a lot of the fat. You start to realize that ‘Oh, this will work,’ and ‘This is a good idea’ as opposed to when you start in the beginning, you have no idea what will work or not.

I read a section in the book about your first bombing experience as a comedian. What was it that motivated you to keep going after that?
Bombing was a big part of it. I think the first five years of comedy for anybody is defined by how much humiliation you can stand. Apparently I have a high tolerance for it. There were several nights where I bombed. I think the motivation was from a lot of good guys I met along the way who just said, ‘It’s part of it, and you’re gonna do alright.’ Steve Harvey was one of those people.

The first major bombing experience was in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. That week was a trying experience. It was my first time getting paid, and I had lied to the club owner, telling him that I had thirty minutes of material when in fact I think I only had seven minutes, and when you try to stretch seven minutes into thirty minutes it becomes a real long, painful experience, and that’s exactly what it was.

The club owner said to me, ‘I don’t know what you were doing before you tried comedy, but you should go back to Texas and get your job back,’ and then he paid me $400. What I thought, being hardheaded, that if I was paid $400 for being awful, I wondered what he’d pay me if I got really good at it, and I think that was my motivation from that point on.

I tried not to do any shows where I had to do more than ten minutes, and that’s what I did. I drove anywhere and everywhere for any kind of money I could get and slept in the back of my truck, and just gutted it out.

Was that before or after you were married?
That was before I was married. However, when I got married, I knew at that point in time that it was no longer fun and games, and that I was going to have to make this work and make a living. Marriage was certainly a motivation, and kind of a new chapter in how I had to approach things differently, and to feed my family. I think if anything, it helped.

Who are your influences? Your book makes mention of Sam Kinison.
I was influenced by a lot of people, not necessarily just in comedy. When I was younger, Elvis was a big influence. I can remember as a kid, when Elvis died: I was only 10 years old, and that affected me, but it affected everybody, just for what he did; the obvious reasons. I don’t know that there was anybody that influenced me to do comedy. There were a lot of people that I liked, that I admired, but did they have a direct influence on me? I don’t know if there’s one person I could pinpoint and say ‘Yeah, this person was an influence.’

I worked with Sam Kinison in my career, early on, and when you run into someone who had such a big impact on comedy, there’s influence, and it offers you a little inspiration. Not only that, but he was a nice guy, which helped. There were many people along the way that were good people: Drew Carey was a super nice guy, and was a big inspiration for me early on.

I think it was really just their kindness that kind of made me think, ‘There’s hope.’ Once I got started, there was no other alternative. For me, I don’t have any other choice. It was either this or moving rocks.

The blue collar thing is a major aspect of your act. There’s obviously been a lot of success in recent years with Larry the Cable Guy, Bill Engvall and even the Blue Collar Comedy Tour itself. Where do you see yourself specifically fitting into this brand of humor?
Well, I think those guys have done great for themselves. I know all of those guys, they’re all real nice guys, and it’s always great to see good guys do well. As far as where I fit in, my comedy’s a little more R-rated compared to what they do, so I never would have been able to fit into their world.

My feeling has always been to find my own place, and when I got to where I was having a little success, I just tried to figure out what that was, and do more of it. When I started doing comedy, I worked a lot of really rough places, as many other people did, and when you’re standing up in front of 300 drunken Marines, I couldn’t necessarily tell a joke about a squirrel and expect to get paid or come back, so I think a lot of my style that I developed – quick and somewhat fast-paced – came from those early, rough shows.

I’ve never really given much thought as to how I fit in and what my role is, other than I want to make people laugh and be as honest as I can.

What I learned early on was the more honest I was about embarrassing moments, the more it became a thing that helped with my success. I never worried whether it was clean or dirty. My agenda was whether it was funny, and I just didn’t edit what I was doing. I just kind of went based on how the crowd was responding.

On that same note, you have a very Southern style to your comedy. Do you think that translates to people who aren’t necessarily from that type of background?
I think so. I grew up in Texas; you can’t deny where you come from, so there’s obviously going to be some flavor of that, but the stories I tell are universal. I’ve met people who aren’t from the South and tend to like what I’ve done, so I guess the answer to that question is yeah, sure, it translates if you give it a chance.

I hear you have a movie project with Toby Keith coming out.
Yeah, we wrote a movie together. It’s called Beer For My Horses, and we’re planning to shoot it in January or February. It kind of came about with Toby asking me to help him write a movie. I was thinking initially of what I could possibly offer Toby Keith; he’s got everything. But it turns out that just in general we have a lot of similarities in the way that we approach things and the way we go about business. It’s been fun; we’ve laughed a lot.

Were you a fan of his before you met?
Yeah, I met him back in 1997 and I remember the first time I ever heard him sing live. My initial response was just how powerful his voice was, and not to mention that, as a former football player, he’s a big guy. I look like his four-year old, standing next to him. But he’s also just a regular guy, too, and that’s what I took away from just hanging out with him.

I see from your book that you have not just a fascination with titties, but a deep respect.
[laughs] It’s funny to hear you say “titties.”

Do you have a favorite pair?
No, I don’t have a favorite pair. I like every pair. I’m like a woman in a shoe store: get ‘em out, I’d like to see every pair. I think they’re really important: I think that for every major decision made by a world leader there should be titties and ice cream in the room, because it’s impossible to make a bad decision when you’re eating an ice cream sundae and looking at boobs.

For more information, check out www.rodneycarrington.com.

Henny Youngman: Take My Album…Please!

by John Delery

Take My Album…Please ! (Varèse Vintage) revives the late Henny Youngman (hey, death isn’t a career impediment; just ask Elvis or Tupac), not to mention the silliness and artistry of the maligned one-liner.

Youngman — who loved to work, maybe even lived to work until dying at age 91 in 1998 — did not invent the simplest of joke forms, but if he had applied for a patent, it probably would have been granted without challenge.

If listening to this CD in the car, know this: The two sets move much faster than traffic does, so listen carefully but not so intently that you bump the possibly deranged dude cursing in the SUV ahead of you.

The album is worth the price for two reasons: It’s almost always hilarious, and it’s cost-effective, especially on a per-joke basis.

For more than an hour, the human joke machine chugs nonstop, burying the audience in an avalanche of generally inoffensive old-time club comedy from a politically incorrect era when comics took good-natured potshots at everybody without fear of physical reprisal or the sort of injurious out-of-context exposure on, say, TMZ.com than could maim or even kill a comedy career nowadays.

Students of comedy will appreciate the USDA-approved 100% lean language and the history of humor lesson (Youngman began his career in New York City speakeasies in the 1930s, though he always seemed old enough to have told jokes at Caesars Palace — the original one in ancient Rome, not the gaudy Las Vegas knockoff).

The average listener will chortle at the everyday grievances (”A doctor called a lady and said, ‘Mrs. Cohen, your check came back. She said, ‘So did my arthritis.’ “) that Youngman could convert into memorable gags dipped in farm-fresh corn but delivered with a citified edge that belied Youngman’s violin-toting, tuxedo-wearing persona.

Dane Cook: Rough Around the Edges: Live from Madison Square Garden

by Dylan P. Gadino

Since Dane Cook began enjoying the success of his sophomore album, 2005’s double platinum-selling Retaliation, comedy fans have hit many a message board with anti-Dane sentiments while more than a few critics have filled many column inches expounding on what a hack the Boston area native had become.

Despite Cook having 15 years of solid stand-up experience behind him at the time, too-cool-for-school wannabe comedy hipsters found it an opportune moment to slag the country’s most exciting comic.

And now, with the release of his latest, Rough Around the Edges, no doubt many more will take this time to assess why Cook doesn’t deserve his success: his jokes don’t have punch lines; he just screams a lot; he’s too good looking; whatever.

The deal is this; Cook does scream, his jokes typically don’t have traditional punch lines – especially his newer material – and yes, his looks, no doubt, helped him get cast in no less than six movies since his last album (with two more out by 2009).

But none of that takes away from this: Cook is a tremendously funny man, a skilled comic and is the type of entertainer that even the contemporary greats will never become. And Rough is a shining example of this.

While Cook still drops the occasional quick joke, word flourish or call back to past albums – he opens by telling the thousands at Madison Square Garden that he was just backstage and that, “someone shit on the coats” – to get an easy laugh, Rough largely takes over where his 2006 HBO special Vicious Circle left off; that is to say, there’s lots of well-crafted stories and extended observations that lend easily to repeated listens.

His bit about he and his siblings begging his father to take them to Benson’s Animal Farm (“You could pet a llama and feed it nuts. You could go on The Zipper and smash your goddamn teeth out of your face”) is not only funny but is also slightly dark— something Dane doesn’t get enough credit for. The story ends after his hung over father reneges on a promise to take them one Sunday, bitterly telling the kids, “Benson’s not going anywhere.”

The place closed in 1987; Dane never went.

Cook responds in his typical quick paced, sturdy delivery. He decides when his father is old and needs to be rushed to a hospital, ‘I’m gonna take him into my car and drive him to an empty parking lot, and I’m gonna go, ‘Alright, Pop we’re here.’ He’s gonna go, ‘The hospital’s nowhere near here.’ And I’m gonna, go, ‘This is where Benson’s used to be!’”

In a bit that could’ve easily been written by brilliant cringe master Jim Norton, Cook takes blue a little further. When his fictitious pregnant girlfriend calls and requests that she and him meet up to chat, he suggests, “Why don’t you meet me at the top of a set of stairs?”

He also gets hilariously graphic when talking about a website that lists registered sex offenders in your area: “You click on a dot and it shows you a little picture, and then under the picture—stats! Like a rapist baseball card. And if you collect all nine rapists, there’s a puzzle on the back. There’s a rickety van puzzle on the back with a clown holding a glass dildo.”

As the title of the new album somewhat obviously suggests, this new album is a collection of some of Dane’s edgier, if not funniest, material. So forget about the gloss and glam, the red carpet strolls, the getting-to-act-opposite-Jessica Alba and every other tangential accolade that’s come – deservedly – Cook’s way.

Listen to Rough for what it is: a high energy, excellent comedy album written and performed by one of the most talented comics of our time.

Paul Mooney: 100% flammable

by Noah Gardenswartz

Punchline Magazine’s Noah Gardenswartz ignites the combustible writer and comedian, who will soon spread his fiery gospel on his Showtime special: Jesus Is Black, So Was Cleopatra— Know Your History.

By Noah Gardenswartz

To many older comedy fans, Paul Mooney is the guy who wrote for Richard Pryor; to many younger comedy fans, Paul Mooney is the guy who played Negrodamus on Comedy Central’s Chappelle’s Show.

However, the fact of the matter is that Mooney is a comedy legend; his body of work is strong enough to be celebrated on its own merits— separate from association with the big names he’s worked with.

Perhaps Mooney hasn’t reached the universally iconic status that he deserves because his brand of comedy is simply too raw for too many people. He can be vulgar; he can be racist; and he can be rude.

But he can also be hilarious, brilliant and inspiring. You don’t have to like him as a person or a comic, for that matter. But you must respect him as both.

With a new Showtime special set to premiere Nov. 13, Punchline Magazine caught up with Mooney for what turned out to be equal parts interview and history lesson.

I appreciate your time; I understand you’re extremely busy right now. Are you currently in the middle of touring?
I’m always touring, I’m always on the road. You see, L.A. doesn’t want to pay anybody. L.A. wants to do all the fucking, but they don’t want to let you fuck, so I gotta get it on the road.

Well with all you’ve already accomplished, why is it so important to continue to perform and deal with the hassle of being on the road?
I’ve got to do it because my fans want to see me. We have television and Internet and all that bullshit, but there’s no substitute for real life. All of that shit is like wearing a condom, it’s not the real deal; there’s no perpetrating with a live show. I need that live, unfiltered reaction. I enjoy the instant gratification.

You’ve certainly been outspoken and involved in controversy throughout your career. Do you regret anything you’ve done in your comedy?
How can I regret anything when I was born black in America? Every day is hard as a black man in America so what the fuck should I have to regret? Why do I need to apologize for anything? White people are killing motherfuckers every day without apologizing. What should I apologize for?

You seem to be fairly angry about—
You see, everybody gets it fucked up and thinks I’m angry. I am not angry. If what this is, is anger, then what is the white man who’s been killing motherfuckers for years?

Ok, well then what do you suppose we should be doing to change things?
Man, don’t ask me no white-ass bullshit like that. It’s always been like this. White people have the complexion for the protection for the collection. What are you? … Gardenswartz… is that German?

Um, I’m Jewish.
Shit, than you’re black too, brotha. The white man killed black people, Indians, Jews. My people picked cotton, yours went to the ovens— it’s all the same to them. We were at war with Germany and Japan, and who’d they drop the bomb on? Japan! Because they don’t have any ancestors in Japan. If they dropped the bomb on Germany, they might’ve killed a cousin or some shit.

Wow.
And then they want to stereotype us. They say black people are lazy. We’re lazy because we worked for free for 400 years. If you worked for free for 400 years you’d be lazy too!

And they say Jews run Hollywood. If Jews ran Hollywood, Hogan’s Heroes would not have been a hit. Jews don’t run Hollywood, Jews run awards. Which is why Mel Gibson didn’t get one; but he got all that fucking money, didn’t he?

So is this why you enjoy comedy so much, because it gives you an outlet to share these views with the public? If you weren’t a comedian, would you ever consider teaching?
I’ve been there, done that. I’ve taught children. I was in the military. I was the ringmaster in a fucking circus. I’ve been around this motherfucker, and I know the game. People try to make it me… it’s Paul. It’s not me, this shit was here when I got here.

So then what made you want to be a comedian?
I was born a comedian, all the great ones are. I’ve been writing it since I was eight years old. I would’ve done it all for free, it’s a part of me.

If you’ve always been a comedian, what made you finally take the stage?
It was just time. Timing is everything.

You’re almost known more for your writing than you are for actually performing. Which do you prefer?
I write and perform constantly because I enjoy them both. I don’t like one more than the other, I love them both.

You’ve certainly been doing both of them for long enough, so what’s left for you? What do you have going on now?
Well I’ve got a new show coming out on BET called Judge Mooney, where we review real cases that have happened and I make my own judgment and the people on the show agree to follow whichever way I rule.

What got this idea started?
If you watch all the judge shows on TV now, all the judges want to be funny, so I said, “Ok, let me do this.” And, of course, it’s rooted in humor, but this is real shit. These are real case,s and they agree to my sentences.

Is having your own show something you’ve always wanted?
Man I don’t give a shit. It’s nice to have, but it’s not something I always cared about. See, nowadays everybody wants to have their own show, almost like they expect it; like they’re entitled to it.

People don’t understand all the doors that me and Richard [Pryor] opened in Hollywood. Except, we didn’t open the doors in Hollywood, we kicked the door down. These people are out here playin’. Don’t you see, it’s all a game.

If it’s all a game, then how do you win?
I win by having a brain; you have to stay smart. One person can change everything. It wasn’t Harriet Tubman and her 50 cousins, it was Harriet Tubman. It only takes one person with a brain and some fucking courage.

Paul Mooney’s one-hour special Jesus Is Black, So Was Cleopatra— Know Your History premieres Nov. 13 on Showtime at 11 p.m. and will be available through On Demand until Dec. 11.

Tim and Eric: Awesome Interview, Great Job!

by Dylan P. Gadino

With nary a traditional premise or punch line in sight, Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim have amassed and amazingly strong cult fanbase. Now with the second season of their Adult Swim sketch show Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! set to premiere and a brand new live talk show on Super Deluxe, the cult could only grow larger.

Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim are two well-trained filmmakers who, early in their career, decided to quit the traditional Hollywood movie race. And it’s a good thing.

Who needed another pair of Hollywood wannabes when we could get quality programming like Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! Because of the sketch show’s incredible success, the second season is set to premiere on Adult Swim Nov. 18.

Clearly bored by the ho-hum sketch show format seen weekly on network television, Heidecker and Wareheim set out to create something insanely bizarre. Now, the pair’s huge following are treated to recurring characters like John C.Reilly’s Dr. Steve Brule, a nerve-wracked “expert” who stammers out inane health and living advice to the fictitious Channel Five viewers.

Then there’s the MC Hammer-meets-James Brown “Doo Dah Doo Doo” guy, the star of a dance instruction tape for children who teaches kids to dance with commands like, “Now slap your hands, now spread those wings, feather your bangs, shake your buns… now think about your Dad.”

Punchline Magazine recently chatted with Tim and Eric about the new season, what makes them laugh and how those uncomfortable moments in life are some of the funniest.

How is this season going to be different than the first?
Eric: It’s a lot bigger and better in a lot of ways. You’re going to see a lot of the same characters, but they’re kind of going to new places. You’re going to see Steve Brule come back in a big way. He’s going to lose his mind. We’re really proud of these new ones. We experimented a lot more on some of them. And on the other ones you’re going to see some regular comedy bits that are going to blow your mind.

It seems Steve Brule has already lost his mind. How’s he going to lose it further?
Eric: The married news team in this latest episode asks him to do a wine tasting and he of course forgets to spit out the wine and he gets pretty drunk and it causes quite a scene.

Tim: He’s a depressive drunk. He does not react well.

Eric: Yeah, he just goes to a really dark place. This season he does a couple of shows on his own [which air on the fictitious Channel 5]. He has some self-help shows— one is a self-defense class and the other one is called Living by your Lonesome. And it’s just tips on how to really enjoy life when you’re living on your own. You’re going to see another side of Steve Brule.

How do you guys go about writing episodes?
Eric: It started with Tim and I writing everything and then we started collecting a small team of people that edit and produce the show who are also writers. All of us kind of share that similar sensibility. We get together and brainstorm maybe a 100 ideas and maybe 20 of them will really work. Then Tim and I take those ideas that we really love and put it in a script/outline form.

Half of our sketches are fully scripted out with dialogue and the magic happens when we improvise a performance. Then the editors take it one step further— so it’s like the editors are also the writers. The network has learned to leave us alone with some of these things.

Tim: We’re very lazy about it. It’s the last thing we really want to have to do. We usually just write the minimum to get production going and then we panic the day before and actually think about it.

So there’s a decent amount of improv going into your finished sketches?
Eric: There’s a huge amount. The Steve Brule stuff is almost fully improvised. We’ll have one idea, like the wine tasting, and then the three of us get together and just go through it. I mean, we’ll have beats where we’ll be like, ‘Ok, you’re just going to explode here.’

Tim: We often shoot with three cameras. If it’s a scene that’s plot driven then it’s not so improvised but if it’s a character piece there’s more improv. We had a friend of ours in the other day and all we knew is that he had a funny voice that he wanted to do. We had a skeleton of a program that he could present. It was basically this question and answer style show where we would ask questions and he would try to answer them. But he would never know the answers so he just talked around it. They would be very specific sort of questions like how far away is the moon from earth.

He would just ramble and ramble. It wasn’t as funny as we were hoping it would be. But we just kept asking questions, and after about a half hour of asking him questions we got to a question about slaughtering horses— and that he knew quite a bit about. We kept asking him questions about horse slaughtering and the specifics and when you should slaughter a horse and how you should. He went on for another 20 minutes about horse slaughtering, which then turned into a prayer to horses. So the bit sort of developed on its own. But it meant just shooting for a half hour before we got that.

Eric: A lot of the stuff we do is just comedy experiments. We’ll bring a comedian in or some actor that has no experience. Sometimes you get gold and sometimes it’s just horrible.

We’ve kind of blocked our types of sketches into two separate ideas. There are comedy bits and there’s mood pieces. A comedy bit is usually a written-out bit that has a script with jokes in it that you could relate to as funny moments. But mood pieces are like this [horse slaughtering] guy coming in and doing a prayer. That, in itself, is the comedy— but you only find that out when you shoot it and edit it.

We’ve always been more fascinated with little moments rather than these big over produced comedy pieces that you’ve seen a million times. It just doesn’t fit into our world.

Someone was telling us that they loved our show because it’s just one ultra uncomfortable moment strung into another one. You see people losing it.

Tim: we were laughing the other day about this. If all the mini shows we present on this channel five universe— how uncomfortable would it be to watch? Everyone that has a show has a meltdown. Something terrible goes wrong.

Eric: Even something as simple as the news.

Tim: Right, like they should be able to get through the news without everything going to hell.

Eric: Our show is just a series of those uncomfortable moments you see in real live strung together.

Tim: The simplest way to do comedy is to take a situation and just do the opposite of what should happen.

How would describe the state of sketch comedy on television?
Tim: there’s some stuff we like. We love Will Forte on Saturday Night Live and Fred Armisen but the rest is spotty at best.

Eric: We really haven’t seen a sketch show that’s piqued our interest. But we feel like there’s good comedy out there. We like the new Office; we like some of the stuff SNL is doing. There are tons of shows in England that are blowing our minds but they’re really not classic sketch shows.

Tim: As weird as Eric and my show is, we tend to not like the weird stuff when other people do it. We like good a laugh but then sometimes we’re like, ‘Oh that’s too weird.’ And then we make our show. When we’re making the show, we try not to immerse ourselves into too much comedy because you don’t want things to affect your work.

Eric: When we first got discovered by Bob Odenkirk, he kept asking us who we know and what comedy scene we’re in. We were like, ‘Well, we don’t really know any comedians.’ And I think that’s why he took a liking to some of our earlier films. Tim and I really did live in this bubble that just came from our childhood.

I know you guys met when you were both at Temple University in Philadelphia. How long after you met did you start working together.
Eric: We met in 1994 when we were both in our first year of film school.

Tim: We didn’t really work together in college. We were friends and roommates but we weren’t thinking of doing comedy as a career or anything. Only until after being in the real world for a couple years and seeing the possibilities and the technology, we figured we were at a place where we could get together and shoot and edit something on a PC and put it up online or on a DVD. That all happened in 2001.

We thought that maybe we can do this and not pursue becoming serious filmmakers, which seemed a very hard thing to do. Like my job working as an assistant prop master on a three million dollar movie is going to lead me to a future film directing.

Eric: It’s a brutal scene. We came out to LA while we were in college to intern on films and music videos and I think we both left that experience thinking that this is an impossible scene to break into. You need to make it some other way. So we went back to the East Coast and both got jobs until we started making these little comedy bits.

What makes you guys laugh?
Tim: Tickling. When I’m tickled. I guess Eric makes me laugh.

Eric: We do have a major problem when we’re shooting bits. Tim makes me laugh and I can’t keep it together.

Tim: I also make myself laugh, which is really embarrassing.

Eric: Tim also laughs at his own comedy during rough cuts. He’ll start just loving his performance. We have a live show now on Super Deluxe [Tim and Eric Nite Live] and we’re a little worried that the first five minutes is going to be us just trying to keep it together. It’s going to be a big problem.

For more information on Tim and Eric Awesome Show—Great Job!, check out Adult Swim. Check out Super Deluxe for more info on Tim and Eric Nite Live.