Full ‘zine
to be found at: http://www.louisferrara.com/bandwagon.html
(Bandwagon
Summer 3)
When
did you first meet yourself?
1.
When did you first meet yourself? In
that famous "Summer of Love Thyself" in the 80's. I
read Illusions and
discovered that, if I could concentrate and believe, I
could have anything I wanted. Including, for example, your
car.
It was
a crazy time. I was living in the Wisconsin Dells and we would drink right out
of the Amaretto bottle.
2.
Is it necessary to suck on a pacifier when raving? In the
end I think it's just comforting.
3.
Define comedy. Good lord, a serious one. And so subjective that
there isn't a right answer.
It's
all just my opinion, but realize, it's a terrible burden being right – so here
goes.
Basically,
comedy is everything. From people falling down to
4.
Where are those "warehouses downtown"? Okay,
you have to find this guy and ask him. He's middle aged, white, has a pony tail
and he always wears an Army jacket.
5.
Do you have to believe you are funny to make it work? Wow,
that's disproven every time some crazy comes up to me
and tells me that he's hilarious and then tells me a joke or some story that
has NOT been edited since movable type was invented. It's amazing how many
people think they are funny, when really, they are just ... I don't know,
pleasant?
6.
What is the name of your favorite dance club?
Dante's in
7.
Is your comic personality always on? I think everyone would agree
that I am ALWAYS on. It's really hard to just talk to me about anything. I'm
always riffin'.
8.
Is there anything else you wanted to do with your life? Well,
sure. I'd like to be rich enough to start a foundation to help people and hide
behind, tax-wise.
9.
Where do you find balance? Same as everyone. With my family and friends. I also autistically
watch movies over and over again. (and if you're
wondering, ANY movie. Xmen, Mother, It Happened One
Night).
10.
Tell me a story from the road. All these stories start the
same. I'm on stage in some dive and there's a heckler. This time it's a career
drunk on the bar rail who's been messing with everyone before I get up and
now me. I mock him and try to make him shut up. It
works for a while until he finally yells, "I will give you 100bucks if you
tell a joke that makes me laugh." Note that he's so drunk that the only
thing that would get his attention (much less a laugh) would be if I could
juggle dogs or something. I'm over it, the room, the gig, the
guy, so I say the meanest thing I can think of, "sir, you haven't had a
100 dollars for more than a half hour in your entire life." He
garbles some protest and stumbles to the stage. He pulls
a crumpled wad of money out of his pocket and puts it on the stage. I pick it
up. $57 bucks. I say, "my point exactly." I
try to hand it back to him and tell him to take it or I'm keeping it. He yells,
"I have lots of money, you can keep it!" I say, "sir, when you wake up, you're going to be CERTAIN you were robbed."
What the hell happened to my money? The crowd is chanting, "keep it. keep it.” I
do the rest of my set, I get off stage, walk up to
the guy to give him his money back and he slaps my hand away and stumbles out
the door. So... I made an extra, whopping, $57 that night.
And I got a walk from the bartender to my car.
11.
What's on the horizon? Fire.