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Jun 03, 2024

Thanks for checking out my new thing, everyone! I hope you like it. It’s really not all that ambitious of an undertaking; more just a monthly opportunity to share some musings, let you know about ~~our lord and savior Jesus Christ~~ a few great shows that I have coming up, and then send you on your way, Rusted Root style!

God I hated that joke I just made. I’m already blowing this. F.

Anyway, here goes!

My son and I were on our way to school the other day, hurrying out the front door and rushing to the car, when we were stopped by a neighbor, passing by. Said neighbor was carrying an invitation for a neighborhood happy hour that she was planning for the coming weekend, an invitation she was intending to place in our mailbox. Instead, she put it in my hand, and I told her we would do our best to attend while simultaneously concocting a fictional conflict in my head: a kid’s class of some sort; perhaps the birthday of my father-in-law. I wasn’t sure yet. The lie needed time to blossom.

“Oh, and I caught your show the other night!” the neighbor said to me. “You are SO funny.”

Roll your eyes all you want, dear reader, but those were her exact words!

She was referencing my twenty-years-in-comedy celebration, at my home club, Comedy Works, in Denver, and that show was, in fact, a banger. This kind neighbor whose happy hour I would never attend because I’m anti-social—already the lie was morphing in my brain; put it on yourself, Adam; less loose ends, that way. You have an appointment! You’re pregnant!—went on to say that I was a total pro, and congrats on twenty years, etc. It was all incredibly kind of her, and I thanked her before my boy and I climbed into my car and drove off.

When we were about halfway to school my son, who had ridden in silence until then, spoke up from the back seat.

“Dad?” my five-year-old said.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“It makes me sad that people have to pay you for your jokes.”

I looked at his little face in the rear-view mirror. His lip was literally quivering.

“What do you mean?”

“I just…I don’t want you to have to do that.”

Then he burst into tears.

Shocked, I consoled him as best I could, while trying to get to the bottom of the concern. After some gentle probing, I realized that my son, essentially, thinks I go out every night, tell jokes, then beg people to give me money. In his mind, I take the stage, tell a joke, then pause and wait, hoping that people are pleased enough to approach the stage, filthy ones in hand, and stuff them into my pockets.

And I know why he thought this.

We often give money to people begging at intersections. If we have cash, of course, which is a fifty-fifty proposition. But if we do, my wife and I will always hand over a few dollars to people standing in the middle of traffic with a cardboard sign. Yes, we’re bleeding hearts, and you can spare me all your Ayn Rand bullshit about bootstraps; you can tell me that these people are just going to buy drugs, or alcohol, blah, blah, blah, I don’t care. Good, let them. If someone is desperate enough to literally beg, let them use those two dollars on whatever they want. They need it more than I do, in the comfort of my air-conditioned Subaru.

This is something that we’ve explained to our children, in less caustic terms, often, as the homelessness epidemic swirls out of control and America eats its poor. We’ve taught them that if someone needs money, or help, and we can give them money, aka help, then it’s a no brainer. Hand it over. Help those people. Duh.

So, our boys, of course, are on it now. They see people begging long before we do. They scour the streets from their car-seats, a pair of philanthropic hawks.

“Dad! Do you have cash? That man needs help!”

Recently, my son and I were driving down the street when we saw a guy with a sign that read, “Why Lie? I Need a Beer.” It was such a throw-back, such an old classic, that it made me laugh to see it again, out there in the wild. It delighted me to see this burnt-out, sun-torched drifter flying one of the all-time great signs. There was something timeless about it, like finding a pull-tab beer bottle on the side of a trail. Dude probably had a Federal Bikini Inspector ID in his pocket.

My son asked me what I was laughing at, so I explained to him the silliness of the man’s sign. My son either got it, or pretended to, then asked me if I was going to give him money. I checked my wallet, had a few buck, so I handed it over. Even made a big show of it for my son’s benefit.

“Love your sign,” I said to the man.

He took my dollars and said absolutely nothing. Just kind of grunted.

Perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Then off we drove. Matter settled.

Except it turns out not at all, because that’s apparently how my son pictures me on stage, every fucking night!

That guy told a joke, I laughed, and gave him money.

I tell jokes, people laugh, and give me money.

But what about all those times we don’t have money? All those times he points out someone who needs help, and I tell him we don’t have any cash right now, and then we drive off. I imagined him clocking their forlorn faces as we speed away, and they remain on the corner, destitute, empty-handed. I wondered if he thought that happened to me sometimes. When a joke bombed. When an audience didn’t have any cash.

I explained to my son the concept of art and commerce. How people love comedy, music, books, movies, etc., how it can inspire and delight them. How it can make them think. How it can fill a void. I explained to him how often when people have had a shitty day, they want nothing more than to go to a comedy club and have a few laughs. Or put on a record and listen to music. And they’re happy to pay for these activities because it provides them with joy and relief; it fulfills them in some way. So much so that they seek it out! They covet it.

“Look at how happy our neighbor was,” I said to him. “She was pumped to pay for my show! You saw that, right?”

“I did,” he said.

“Well, I didn’t have to beg her to come,” I said. “She just wanted to!”

“Oh yeah!” he said, relieved, almost nervous laughing as he started to grasp the concept. “She did have a good time! Are you going to go to her happy hour?”

“No,” I told him. “I have to work on a script with Andrew.”

That was it. That was the lie I would use. Perfectly cooked, ready to eat.

I told him that lots of people have to go to jobs, in offices, sometimes jobs that they don’t even like, because everyone needs to make money. But I get to write, and tell jokes, and just think of stuff that I want to make, for a living! I told him how happy I am that I get to do that, that I, in fact, get paid to do that! I told him that besides him, and his brother, and his mom, and the Denver Nuggets, being creative is my favorite thing.

Then we were suddenly at his school. The lesson had taken the whole drive. And as we parted ways that morning, after, I kid you not, he witnessed a classmate’s parent who had also been at my show say very nice things to me, I reminded him that this is daddy’s job, and people are happy to hear my jokes.

More than anything, I assured him that daddy doesn’t have to beg.

So thanks so much for signing up for the email list, everyone! Please come out to a show when I’m in your town, and please tell friends, it helps so much! Word of mouth is everything. Oh and tell peeps about my new special too! Wallpaper, available for free on YouTube. Buy my book if you haven’t already. Check out my podcast, “The Grawlix Saves the World,” and join our Patreon! And for god’s sake, if I’m selling merch, please pick some up; it is the lifeblood of the touring comic. Naturally please follow me on all the socials, @CaytonHolland, except on YouTube where it’s @AdamCaytonHolland for some reason. Like, share, subscribe.

Oh yeah, Venmo!

I’m @CaytonHolland on Venmo too!

You know, if you’re feeling generous.

June + July Show Dates

Very excited to come to Minneapolis! Haven’t been in awhile and I love that city (except for Karl-Anthony Townes) If you have any friends there, send them my way!

June 7th: Minneapolis, MN - Sisyphus Brewing (ticket link)

June 8th: Minneapolis, MN - Sisyphus Brewing (ticket link)

Minneapolis is the regular act, just me telling these AWARD WINNING JOKES (local Emmy, 1986), but I’ll be taking my one-man show “Happy Place” to LA on June 19th. Happy Place means a lot to me, and I’ve got some ambitious aspirations for it, but it all starts with this LA show so pretty please come on out!

June 19th: Los Angeles, CA - Happy Place / One Man Show at Dynasty Typewriter (ticket link)

Then more AWARD WINNING JOKES (Most Improved, Camp Oswego, 1987), in LA, at

June 20th: Los Angeles, CA - Peacock Comedy (link to come)

and then closing the month out in style, as always, in Denver with The Grawlix.

June 29th: Denver, CO - The Grawlix at the Bug Theatre (ticket link)