available now on iTunes, Amazon, and Netflix. God Bless America.
Chapter 5
AS ONE DOOR OPENS
I will never forget my first time on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson . In all my appearances with the TV legend, I never did straight stand-up, just paneled with him and tried to weave in my comedy as stories in the conversation, which he was a master of. So on my first appearance on The Tonight Show —well, first appearance with Johnny (I had appeared once previously with guest host Garry Shandling)—I talked about this real dream I’d had with Johnny in it, a dream about us in a limo together.
He found the story compelling, apparently, and had me back numerous times, always treating me with great respect. At the time, with more than I imagined I deserved. I couldn’t believe I was actually on Johnny’s show. I’d watched him my whole life, just loving his humor, his style, and the comedians he enjoyed having on, never even considering the possibility I’d be a stand-up one day.
I find it fascinating that I just wrote the words I’d watched him my whole life . People come up to me and say “I’ve watched you my whole life” and they are sixteen. That is their whole life. Then I shake their hand and feel my elbow crack and think to myself, Holy shit, Bob, you are really not sixteen anymore.
I remember when I was only eleven and had a poignant moment, as a viewer, watching Johnny on New Year’s Eve. I was staying in Washington, DC, visiting my cousin Tootsie—that’s right—and her husband, Jules. They had a dinner party to go to so I stayed home in their beautiful apartment near the Capitol with my aunt Becky. She was actually my dad’s first cousin but was so old I called her “aunt” out of respect.
I knew it was going to be a rough evening because I was going to have to sleep in Aunt Becky’s room, and she was a giant snorer. So I stayed as long as possible in the den watching the entire Tonight Show . It was ninety minutes long then. Johnny made my night. He brought in the New Year for me. I’m not sure I recall correctly, but I believe he lit a sparkler and then made fun of it, saying that was all the show had in the budget for fireworks.
When I finally went into Aunt Becky’s room, she was asleep and I arrived to a chamber of THX sounds the scope of a George Lucas film. She was in one single bed and I was in another—I crawled into my bed but couldn’t sleep; the snoring was insane. So I used my resources, grabbed a couple tissues, balled them up in my ears, and to secure them, put a ski mask over my head. All was good. I laid my head down to sleep but suddenly had to sneeze . . .
The volume of my eruption woke Aunt Becky out of her Snuffleupagus coma, and when her head sprang up at exactly the same time my head came up, she screamed at the sight of this person next to her in a ski mask. I started to yell, “ No, Aunt Becky, it’s me!” and grabbed the ski mask to pull it off, but that only made her scream more. It was quite a scene.
She didn’t have a heart attack, though she may have soiled herself. Eventually things calmed down and we both went to bed. It was a memorable night, but what stuck with me above all else from that New Year’s was having watched Johnny Carson. That’s the thing about late-night TV like Johnny—as a viewer you feel an intimacy, like you have a personal relationship with him. Not creepy if you accept the whole host–audience broadcasting premise.
From then on I was a huge fan of Johnny Carson and by the time I was sixteen I was watching him every night—and his frequent guest, the beyond-hilarious Don Rickles. Of course, I never dreamed that I would be so fortunate as to have Don as a dear friend today, that this icon would be someone whom I now have dinner with and revere as I would my own father. With the exception that if I was at a dinner with my own father, I wouldn’t be subject to Don’s famous ridicule and told over and over again how
Chapter 5
AS ONE DOOR OPENS
I will never forget my first time on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson . In all my appearances with the TV legend, I never did straight stand-up, just paneled with him and tried to weave in my comedy as stories in the conversation, which he was a master of. So on my first appearance on The Tonight Show —well, first appearance with Johnny (I had appeared once previously with guest host Garry Shandling)—I talked about this real dream I’d had with Johnny in it, a dream about us in a limo together.
He found the story compelling, apparently, and had me back numerous times, always treating me with great respect. At the time, with more than I imagined I deserved. I couldn’t believe I was actually on Johnny’s show. I’d watched him my whole life, just loving his humor, his style, and the comedians he enjoyed having on, never even considering the possibility I’d be a stand-up one day.
I find it fascinating that I just wrote the words I’d watched him my whole life . People come up to me and say “I’ve watched you my whole life” and they are sixteen. That is their whole life. Then I shake their hand and feel my elbow crack and think to myself, Holy shit, Bob, you are really not sixteen anymore.
I remember when I was only eleven and had a poignant moment, as a viewer, watching Johnny on New Year’s Eve. I was staying in Washington, DC, visiting my cousin Tootsie—that’s right—and her husband, Jules. They had a dinner party to go to so I stayed home in their beautiful apartment near the Capitol with my aunt Becky. She was actually my dad’s first cousin but was so old I called her “aunt” out of respect.
I knew it was going to be a rough evening because I was going to have to sleep in Aunt Becky’s room, and she was a giant snorer. So I stayed as long as possible in the den watching the entire Tonight Show . It was ninety minutes long then. Johnny made my night. He brought in the New Year for me. I’m not sure I recall correctly, but I believe he lit a sparkler and then made fun of it, saying that was all the show had in the budget for fireworks.
When I finally went into Aunt Becky’s room, she was asleep and I arrived to a chamber of THX sounds the scope of a George Lucas film. She was in one single bed and I was in another—I crawled into my bed but couldn’t sleep; the snoring was insane. So I used my resources, grabbed a couple tissues, balled them up in my ears, and to secure them, put a ski mask over my head. All was good. I laid my head down to sleep but suddenly had to sneeze . . .
The volume of my eruption woke Aunt Becky out of her Snuffleupagus coma, and when her head sprang up at exactly the same time my head came up, she screamed at the sight of this person next to her in a ski mask. I started to yell, “ No, Aunt Becky, it’s me!” and grabbed the ski mask to pull it off, but that only made her scream more. It was quite a scene.
She didn’t have a heart attack, though she may have soiled herself. Eventually things calmed down and we both went to bed. It was a memorable night, but what stuck with me above all else from that New Year’s was having watched Johnny Carson. That’s the thing about late-night TV like Johnny—as a viewer you feel an intimacy, like you have a personal relationship with him. Not creepy if you accept the whole host–audience broadcasting premise.
From then on I was a huge fan of Johnny Carson and by the time I was sixteen I was watching him every night—and his frequent guest, the beyond-hilarious Don Rickles. Of course, I never dreamed that I would be so fortunate as to have Don as a dear friend today, that this icon would be someone whom I now have dinner with and revere as I would my own father. With the exception that if I was at a dinner with my own father, I wouldn’t be subject to Don’s famous ridicule and told over and over again how
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