4
street roots
Aug. 15, 2014
The woman behind, “The Dork
Forest” and “Joke M achine” talks
about her addiction to standup and
giving cred to female nerds
BY SUE ZALOKAR
J
STA FF W R IT E R
ackie Kashian makes no bones about
where she stands on people and politics.
It’s the backbone of her comedic
“I’m an Anarchic Socialist,” she says. “I
don’t think anyone would be surprised to
find out what my politics are. I am clearly a
supporter of the common man.”
Kashian’s a nationally touring comic who
has built an empire of sardonic, edgy
comedy and thatched it with “The Dork
Forest,” an hour long podcast that she lias
hosted for the past eight years.
Kashian also has her own half-hour
special on Comedy Central, she was a semi
finalist on L ast Comic Standing and has
recorded “This American Life” with Ira
Glass for NPR.
Her first time on stage was born from ; ,
heckling the late Sam Kinison. In 1985, a
very drunk Kashian heckled Kinison in
Madison, Wise. Just three weeks later she ,
participated in her first open mike on the
same stage. Now nearly 30 years later, she
has crafted a comedic style that is witty,
sassy, genuine and thoroughly entertaining.
She had me in stitches as we spoke about
h e r own dorky obsessions, her love of
standup and her upcoming shows at the .
Helium Comedy Club at the end of August.
I caught her via phone as she was
preparing for “Joke Machine” with her
friend and fellow comedian, Erin Foley, at a
coffee shop in L.A., Calif.
Jackie Kashian: Joke Machine is when
you run bits by people. You meet with a
fellow comic and you run some premises by
and then they punch it up and then they run
some premises and then you punch it up.
The only rule,of Joke Machine is you can’t
say, “That’s not funny.” There’s always
something there.
Sue Zalokar: Critique is good. You hone
lots o f skills.
J.K.: And you get to practice your bits on
somebody.
S.Z.: Is this your creation or is this a
universal comedic tool, “Joke Machine?”
J.K.: I do love i t It’s the best. I started
when I was 19i I was doing it for so long
and it’s 25 years, if I count the '80s as one
yekr, and I tend to.
When I first started doing it — when you
first start anything — you’re never any good
at it, but blessedly you don’t know. And
you’re like, “I don’t care if I'm bad at it, I’m
going to keep doing it.”
It was like heroin. It was so addictive
from the first time I did it.
S.Z.: W hat about it is addictive to you?
J.K.: I think just having a voice — just
beiUg heard. Even if the things I was saying
were just shocking and getting that kind of
reaction.
When you first start doing stand up
comedy, you mostly do shock jock stuff, just
trying to get a reaction out of people. And
then you figure out material that is very
much you, that is the kind of stuff that you
will write. You’ll put your own stamp on
(the material). I tend to write more of a
storytelling style.
J.K.: We named it “Joke Machine” —
Maria Bamford and I. We consider it a
game, even though it’s deadly serious. It’s
very fun. All comics should do it with thé
friends that they write with.
You come to an agreement — like my
buddy Auggie Smith, who is from Portland.
Hé likes to do it timed. You do five minutes
— everything that everybody comes up with
regarding that joké belongs to the comic
who has the premise. So you have to go in
knowing who’s going to leave with the
punchlines. You can’t say something funny
and then go, “Oh wait, I want to keep th a t”
S.Z.: You love standup.
S.Z.: Tragically, Robin Williams took his
own life recently after living with addiction
and depression fo r quite some time. I t is ironic
that someone who brought so much joy and
laughter into the world suffered from such
debilitating illness. Do you any comment
about his death?
J.K.: His great influence on me was that
he always reminded me to be grateful for
the sheer joy of being on stage. I met him,
maybe, three times. He was always an
advocate of standup. He loved doing it and
loved watching it. He was a good guy to be
around at a comedy show. Which is another
great way to influence comics — hell,
people. Leading by the example of courtesy
and support.
I’ve been thinking a lot about his
recurring fight with addiction and
dépréssion and think of how much I benefit
from a — relatively — straightforward
chemical setup in my head. I get depressed,
like everyone, but it’s never for more than
six to eight months at a crack - and, maybe,
every four qrfive years. What I really fear is
the depression swooping down and killing
you before you realizé how depressed you
aie. Remember that life mends itself in the
next moment In the next day. Sometimes it
takes a bit.
I will miss his fight and joy and I wish him
peace. For the rest erf us I remind myself of
the advice from my incredibly, self-centered
parents. In my father’s words, “Just be
happy and do something nice for yourself. It
doesn’t matter if it makes other people
happy. .Better you think of you.”
S.Z.: You tour 2 5 weeks a year. That seems
like a lot. How long have you been doing that?
J.K.: Yeah. It’s been even more than that
the last two years. It is a lot, I’m gone three
to four days a week, home three to four
days a week.
S.Z.: K ind o f dreamy, really.
J.K.: It can be. I have a lot of frequent
flyer miles. The worst part of it is being
tired from the travel. The best part of it is
the new audiences everywhere.
I just did North Carolina. I’d never been
to North Carolina. I’m going to Ohio this
week. I’ve never been there.
S.Z.: I was bom in Columbus, Ohio.
See KA SH IA N , page 5