Heckler Tossing

Ah the American dream, to own a heckler of your own

Picture of me not being heckled snapped by Jess Roberts

I hate the popular “Comedian Totally Owns Heckler” videos for many reasons. First off, I feel like they’re encouraging heckling. It’s like a low stakes running of the bulls. Some brave soul proves their manhood by stepping up to be run over, but it gives us all a show, its ritual, its brave! Olé!

While I do like to see someone get stomped or gored by a bull or a comedian they’re harassing, I’d really prefer both creatures were just left alone to live according to their nature.

I had the pleasure of featuring for a comedian who specializes in these videos, and that isn’t sarcasm. It was a pleasure. He’s a nice guy and he’s genuinely funny. I can’t blame him for continuing to “Own Hecklers” on YouTube. He’s got his hustle, and he’s making a living. But the week I spent as his feature (the feature is the comedian who goes in the middle, after the opener and before the headliner) really changed the way I see these videos. I saw behind the curtain, and the nature of the illusion was revealed to me. Spoiler warning, it’s not real. The “hecklers” are not actually heckling, at least not always. This infamous heckler owner would invite the audience to participate in a Q and A at the end of his show. At these Q and A sessions, someone could be relied on to be drunk enough and foolish enough to engage with him in a way that opened them up to getting owned, thereby becoming the unwitting and unseen star of his next video. That idiotic voice in the dark was invited to participate, and then they were “destroyed” for it. Olé!

I don’t get heckled often. “How do you handle” hecklers is frequently the first thing people ask when they talk to me about stand up comedy, especially if they have dreams of trying it. The truth is, dealing with hecklers is a very small part of what I do. A good comedian can control the room. When I’m really killing it, holding the crowd, getting them hanging on my every word in anticipation of the punch, they aren’t heckling. But, of course, this isn’t every night, and so here is my written version of the heckler ownage videos. My greatest hits of times when I dealt with a heckler with quick wit, or quick fists.

When I was working as an emcee for Spike & Mike’s Festival of Animation I dealt with hecklers, lots of hecklers, especially at our Sick and Twisted Show. It was a great learning experience for controlling a crowd. They were drunk, and there to see dirty cartoons and now I needed them to listen to my witty banter as I laid out a few ground rules and introduced the show. It was a heckling frenzy. My little brother, James, also worked for Spike & Mike and he loved to eviscerate a heckler. He would just destroy them, humiliate them, make them question the life they’d chosen. I loved watching him work and was very proud. I also knew that this approach didn’t suit my character.

I came up with my own perfect heckler management strategy. I would choose the person giving it to me the loudest, and I’d say, “Excuse me, you there with the sunglasses on your head, what is your name?” and Sunglass Head would reply, “Doug.” I don’t know why Dougs are so frequently poorly behaved, but to the Dougs I know and love, I’d like to congratulate you on overcoming. I would say to the crowd of a thousand belligerent Beavis and Butthead fans, “Please, everyone, repeat after me: Doug is an important person.” and the entire crowd in a beautiful display of mob mentality would all yell in unison, “DOUG IS AN IMPORTANT PERSON!.” I would continue, “Doug is deserving of love and attention.” and a thousand voices would aggressively yell this positive affirmation at Doug, “DOUG IS DESERVING OF LOVE AND ATTENTION!” I’d then say, “Doug, I hope this helps. I hope that this fills your need and nourishes your soul” and if Doug wasn’t bigger than me, or even if he was but looked gentle and not angry, I’d step into the crowd and I’d give Doug a hug. 

And this worked brilliantly 99% of the time. That one time in a hundred that it didn’t subdue the rabid Doug, I would add one more call and response line. “DOUG, NEEDS TO SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!” Being shouted at by a thousand voices in the dark did the trick.

I was performing in a small local cafe on a friend’s show, and one of our local characters kept interrupting and shouting out lines that weren’t as clever as he thought they were. This guy had a reputation for dating much younger girls which was increasingly creepy as we got older. Growing impatient with his uninvited audience participation I said, “Hey man, that was a good one. I guess that kind of zinger is what impresses them underage girls you date, eh?” It was a low blow. Not my best work. But when his date replied “I’m not underage.” I was quite pleased with my mouth for quickly snapping back, “You’re not?! Well Happy Birthday!”

A response I’ve used multiple times on talky audiences goes, “Look, I know Shakespeare said all the world’s a stage, and I believe that’s true, except some spots in this world are more stage than others, you know, like this spot right here, where I’m standing, on this stage. It’s like all the world was a stage but in this room they swept all the stage-ness into one corner and charged you admission to see it. All the world's a stage but there in the dark, where you’re sitting, considerably less so.”

I was onstage at The Bridgetown Comedy Festival in Portland Oregon. The night before I’d had one of the best sets of my life in a big theater with Margaret Cho and her manager in the audience. Cho shook my hand after and told me I was “very funny” and her manager gave me her card and I was on cloud 9. Now, a scant 24 hours later I was at a bar on their back patio that had been haphazardly turned into an indoorsish space and I was doing my best but struggling. A drunk idiot heckled me all the way through with heckles so incoherent and random that it was hard to find my footing to clap back. There was no security, and it just went on and on. I was still full of joy from the previous evening’s victories so I was able to just laugh to myself, and by myself, at the absurdity of it all. I finished my set to a light smattering of applause and walked to the back of the room to watch my friend Janine Brito take her turn on the mic.

Janine wasted no time tearing into the guy. She ripped him a new one, and managed the rare feat of being funny while also being harsh and direct. Once she’d made it clear that the audience was on her side she dismissed the guy. “Nobody wants you here. Nobody is enjoying your presence, and we’d all like you to leave so we can do the show we were brought here to do.” The crowd erupted in angry applause which pitched up as the heckler, carrying a half drunk pint of beer, stood and walked to the aisle. He paused, and it was clear he was about to deliver a clever retort, when Janine cut him off saying, “Your friends aren’t going with you. That’s how bad it is. They came with you, but they’re with me now.” The cheers erupted anew. As he walked toward where I stood in the back of the room, I could see on his face that he was getting ready to give a parting shot. He reached the door that led into the main room of the bar, and turned to face the stage. As he opened his mouth to speak, I stepped behind him and, hoisting him by his collar and belt, I tossed him through the door. He stumbled, fell on the ground, and then jumped up, very angry. He raised a fist and as he swung at me, I shut the door. I heard his fist connect with the door with a loud thump. He yelled “Fuck”. I found out later from the bartender he spiked his pint glass on the ground in anger and then was thrown onto the sidewalk by the bouncer, managing to be tossed out of the same bar twice in one night.

I’ve owned a heckler or two in my time, but I have to tell you, I much preferred tossing one. Olé!