For our first installment of “Ask a Male Comedian” Kyle Kinane agreed to answer questions from Rumpus readers. Don’t like the questions? You have only yourselves to blame:
Rumpus Reader: Why are female comedians so much funnier than male comedians?
Kyle Kinane: Well, generally people are exposed to more male comedi–oh, wait, I see what you’ve done here. Sneaky!
Reader: Paper or plastic?
Kinane: Sometimes I go grocery shopping late at night when the aisles are all faced-up and unmolested and the sheer organization is almost overwhelming, like some inverse Warhol effect where you realize the art is there all along if you get the timing right and we never needed some weirdo twat with snap-on hair to point it out to us.
Reader: Do you mind if I break into your place while you’re away and use it for this orgy I’ve been meaning to have since like forever? (If you come back early, you’re welcome to join us, but please call me Carl.)
Kinane: I think I heard somebody do a joke once about how trying to get into an orgy was a lot like trying to get in on a double-dutch jump rope session. I can’t remember who said it and I’m really hoping I just made that up because I think it’s funny.
Reader: What would a comedy club waitress have to do to actually make the average comic say “no, I simply cannot sleep with her?”
Kinane: Say “no,” I guess, unless your sweeping generalization assumes we’re all rapists as well.
Reader: How do you deal with a heckler who is quite literally retarded? Thanks! Max Barth
Kinane: Max, are you trying to tell me that a retarded person has the capability of also consciously being an asshole? And would so choose to go to a comedy club to harass the performer? I think you just created a supervillian named “Pizza Party.”
Reader: Why is it that every time I glance at the cover of Brian Evenson’s new collection, “Fugue State,” I see “Fugu State”?
Kinane: As much as everything I’m about to say would’ve repulsed me ten years ago, that Hoobastank burrito thing at Denny’s is pretty good. Stop glancing and take a long hard look at it, you child.
Reader: Can we trust Plutarch that Demosthenes killed himself on the island of Caluria with poison concealed in a small ring? What type of detail-work would mask such a ring’s secret utility? I imagine that someone who purchased a ring of that sort online might start to feel that everyone in his subway car was perfectly well aware he was wearing a poison ring, and only out of perversity did they wait until he was off the train to discuss him, and it.
Kinane: I’ve been to Busch Gardens in Florida twice in my life. One of the times a bird shit on me and the other time I peed my pants because I couldn’t find a restroom. The only condolence my father offered was “at least you’re wearing dark pants.” In light of all that, I’d say if you still must use poison in this day and age, hide it in an iPhone. You already sound pretentious enough to own one and maybe you can download a poison ring “app.”
Reader: How do you promote yourselves without looking desperate or self-involved?
Kinane: The chorus from Ah! Leah! was stuck in my head for three years before I finally found out it was Donnie Iris who sang it. Shit would keep me up at night. I can’t remember names or faces or big words much, but I would sing the chorus to Ah! Leah! to anyone that would listen like I was looking for my kidnapped son. Comedians by nature are desperate and self-involved. All I can do is present a quality product at each show and hope word-of-mouth carries it along.
