A virus walks into a bar: Open mic comics say it's not too soon to riff on pandemic, politics

Jul. 25—Is there anything funny about 18 months of unprecedented deaths, hospitalizations, mandated quarantines, and job loss?

Bradley Hall would argue that there is.

"The pandemic is more of a universal experience than an isolated experience. It was a shared trauma, something everyone could relate to," said Hall, 30, an improv comedian from Toledo. "Obviously, some of us lost relatives, 600,000 people lost family members, and that's hard, so I understand shying away from it. But there's also the concept of gallows humor. It's a way for people to cope with the terrible things that happen to us. Without it, comedy, in general, wouldn't work."

Hall is not alone with this train of thought. Indeed, comedians have been making a lot of coronavirus jokes since open mic nights began to resume this spring.

Comedian Mark Philipp, the showrunner for Grumpy Dave's Comedy Night in Bowling Green, said anyone still debating whether to include coronavirus in their routines has already missed their moment.

"It's too late to make COVID jokes. We've written them all already now," Philipp said. "In the first week of our return, it was all over. The response was fine to them. If anything, you might get more political divisions when it comes to it. There are inevitably people in the crowd who think the virus was a hoax, and they get pissy about it."

Comedian Joe Brent, 36, of Hamtramck, Mich., also saw coronavirus jokes circulate in Ohio and Michigan early this year.

"From what I've seen for the last several months, from comedy scenes that haven't been closed are coronavirus jokes. We've been hearing them from everywhere, and from the comedian's point of view, it's a little played out until someone comes up with a new angle," Brent said.

Brent said many comedians are excited to return to the stage and leave the pandemic as a distant memory.

"Right now, everyone is happy to be back, and you have some returning to some old jokes. Comedians seem to be talking about more than the coronavirus," he said.

Dave Crumbley, 34, is a curator of two Toledo comedy shows, one at Ottawa Tavern, 1815 Adams St., on Wednesdays, and another monthly showcase at Bier Stube, 5333 Monroe St. He said both comedians and audiences alike are celebrating life post-pandemic.

"We've heard every single variation and angle of COVID at this point. At this point, the people who are out and doing things are in a good mood. It's celebratory to come together because we beat this thing, and we don't necessarily want to be reminded of a year of unpleasantness," Crumbley said.

The monthly showcase at Ottawa Tavern, held on the first Monday of each month, begins at 8 p.m.

Diana DePasquale, a co-founder of the Glass City Improv, said comedy is much needed right now while many are still healing from an immense amount of trauma.

"Right now, there's not a whole lot that's funny happening in the world. In fact, it's quite brutal right now. Yet if you can share space and time with people and give them opportunities to look at things that are difficult and isolating, you can really connect with the audience members," DePasquale said.

Brent said he's still hearing comedic material referencing last year's turmoil beyond the pandemic.

"I'm still seeing people talk about some of the other hard issues from last year. Like political issues such as Black Lives Matter and all the things Trump supporters have been up to," he said.

However, Brent has also noticed a hesitation with the Toledo-area comedians.

"There are not many comedians that talk directly about politics in this area or in Michigan. Whether it's Donald Trump stuff or making fun of Joe Biden for things that are more than accurate to say about him right now," he said.

While coronavirus jokes seem to be in the clear, questions of how strongly the local improv scene will emerge from the pandemic still loom.

Glass City Improv, a local organization, founded in 2018, returned to the stage at Toledo Spirits in June. DePasquale, 51, said the group was the first comedy troupes to grace the venue's outdoor stage following the pandemic.

"At our first show, there were between 60 and 70 people that showed up. We had another show on July 11 that we had inside Toledo Spirits. We are so excited to be back as slowly as that takes. We're excited to see the people who enjoy our shows. It's exciting to perform and hold classes again," DePasquale said.

DePasquale said the local improv scene is still finding its footing.

"There are improv scenes in other parts of Ohio that I'm incredibly jealous of, like Columbus, Cleveland, Akron, and Dayton that all have improv theaters that have shows multiple nights per week," she said. "I'd love to see that happen in Toledo and am willing to do anything that it takes to make that happen. I'm not sure why Toledo hasn't been able to have a robust and vibrant comedy scene."

The group looks forward to the return of its monthly showcase at the Valentine Theatre's Studio A this fall.

Nearly 30 miles south of Toledo, Grumpy Dave's, a small but long-standing bar of nearly 20 years in Bowling Green, returned with its weekly comedy night in April. Philipp said Tuesdays' gigs have been in existence since the early 2000s, and he rose to become showrunner nearly five years ago.

Given the club's longevity, one thing that's remained consistent is its audience's willingness to embrace the edgier extremes of comedy.

"There's a vibe here at this particular show. The audience that comes here tends to lean towards the darker side of humor. It's a college town that has a lot of people that are stressed out through finals or people who're too old to live in a college town like myself. It's a lot of people that come with stress on their minds, and they look to find relief by relating to the stress of the comedians," Philipp said.

Philipp said the Tuesday shows are a safe haven for the returning audience that embodies the show's informal mantra of "It's OK not to be OK."

For centuries comedy has been perceived to be a soothing medicine for some of humanity's soul aches. Philipp said comedy is the platform he uses to discuss his past woes of alcoholism and a suicide attempt that ultimately revitalized his life by jump starting his sobriety.

"I want to say the things people are uncomfortable talking about and make them palatable for the people who come here. I'm nearly four years sober, and I got sober because there was one night I drank myself into a stupor and tried to kill myself. When I woke up the next day, it was a hilarious story, and I did a set on it the next week," Philipp said.

He added that his passion for comedy lies in his ability to connect with others by shedding light on personal traumas that might help empower the audience.

"Half the people here are on Prozac or Zoloft, half of them have eating disorders, and all of these things are horrible. But, still, when they come here and hear us onstage speaking on the things that affect us in a very candid way, it creates a community whether they like it or not. That's how it happens here," Philipp said.

Brent agreed that it's not unusual for a comic's material to reflect their personal experiences.

"A lot of comics stick to their own lives because there's a definite fear of stepping too far when trying to apply your life to the rest of the world," he said.