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Bring
Me The Head of Carrot Top
Written
by Rick Ellis, February 24th, 1999
Maybe it's
the fact that I spent so many years doing stand-up, or maybe it's
my ego, and my ever-so painful ambitions, but I always thought I'd
be a great panelist on ABC's POLITICALLY INCORRECT. I was
always figured that if Carrot Top could be on the panel, I should
be able to make the cut.
I mean, it's
not as if I haven't done similiar shows. I spent three years in
radio doing essentially the identical roundtable format. So when
a chance came along to audition for the show, I thought, "How
can I not get picked?"
Apparently,
it was more of an option than I had imagined.
Over the past
few weeks, Politically Incorrect has begun adding the weekly
"Citizen Panelist" to the mix. Some regular person, thrust
onto the panel, hopefully bringing a "real" point of view
to the show.
It's a compelling
idea. Get away from the celebrities and the endless procession of
beach bunny blonde MSNBC conservative analysts. Bring in some new
ideas, a fresh viewpoint. Okay, truthfully, what I was thinking
was, "Hell, I can finally weasel my way onto the panel."
I'll be the
first to admit that I'm not exactly a regular person. I have ten
years of standup behind me, a bunch of years in radio, and I seem
genetically incapable of letting a cheap shot pass me by. But one
thing I can tell you.
I'd be great
on the show.
I know, I know,
I sound slightly..errrr..real egotistical. But trust me. I may not
know much about sports or relationships, or how to do anything to
my car except swear at it. But I do know how to be entertaining
and informative. I was born to be on this panel.
When I heard
they were going to audition locally for a citizen panelist, I'm
thinking that I've got this gig wired. I'll go in there, I'll be
funny, thoughtful, I'll dazzle them.
So I hauled
my extremely tired butt out of bed at 3am last Friday so I could
make the 45-minute drive into San Francisco and be at the front
of the line. The instructions were clear. The first 50 people in
line, and it all begins at 10am.
When I finally
pull in at about 6:30, I'm somewhat suprised to see that I'm in
no danger of missing the cut. As it turns out, I'm number 18, and
most everyone got there about the same time I did. Except for the
first two guys in line, who slept on the sidewalk all night. Frankly,
that says more about your lack of a meaningful social life than
your willingness to be on the show.
The fifty spots
were filled by 8 am, and we started auditioning about an hour later.
Lots of waivers to sign, then they started bringing us into a room
with a couple of the producers. Five at a time, we form a panel,
and they pick one of the five to move onto the next level. The remaining
ten duke it out that afternoon, and one person would eventually
get the call.
When my group
was called, I felt pretty confident. I had bonded with a woman in
line, we swapped jokes and stories and seemed evenly matched. She
auditioned in the group before mine, and she made the cut. So I'm
already thinking about grabbing lunch before my next panel appearance
that afternoon. I think baseball players call that mental process,
"Not keeping your eye on the ball."
The panel seemed
to go well. The producers just said "Okay, go" and we
were supposed to start talking. They wanted it to sound as much
like a real panel as possible. We had ten minutes, and I wanted
it to be perfect.
Have you ever
heard an athlete talk about how he or she just felt as if they were
"in the zone?" Everything going smoothly, you're comfortable
and on top of your game. That's how the experience felt to me. I
was comfortable, I could visualize myself doing this on the air.
I got my points across, and even slipped in a few quips.
At one point,
two of the panelists began discussing Ebonics, and one guy asked
what the difference was between Ebonics and Jive. There was a slight
pause, and I said, "It's the difference between The Wayans
Brothers and The Jeffersons." Damn, I was having fun.
And then it
was over way too soon. And I didn't even make the first cut.
It's weird.
I never enjoyed cattle call auditions. I used to hate them when
I was doing stand-up, although I certainly participated in enough
of them. The trouble with cattle calls is that sometimes the best
cattle get away.
Yeah, I know,
it's not a dazzling observation. But it's the best that this really
disappointed guy can manage right now.
Oh well, I'm
sure I can still get on the HOWIE MANDEL SHOW.
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