the comic's comic

Sinbad

Sinbad is calling from the mountains outside of Pasadena, Calif., on his way to a voice lesson.
Is the 48-year-old comedian and actor going Broadway on us? Well, sort of. He performs Thursday at The Opera House as part of the Broadway Across America series.
“I’m the next hot r & b pop star,” he jokes.
Sinbad certainly doesn’t regret missing Boston’s “American Idol” auditions last week. “What, so they can find 10 more kids who can’t sing?”
And yet, it’s consistently the nation’s most popular TV show.
“We like the star thing. We like to see people become stars,” Sinbad says.
He knows that firsthand, getting his big break in the 1980s as stand-up comic on “Star Search.” That was different, he maintains, because he and the other comedians had to pay their dues. “You know, we put time in, 40 weeks a year working it as a comic. ‘Star Search’ was that little extra push that you needed,” he says.
“Idol” contestants talk about pleasing their fans? “Your fans? You’ve only been singing two months!” he says.
Sinbad has done TV sitcoms (“A Different World”), late-night talk shows and movies (“Houseguest”), but his most enduring work seems to be the 1996 film “Jingle All The Way,” which has become a holiday staple for airlines’ in-flight movies.
“I think it’s because of Arnold (Schwarzenegger),” Sinbad says. “Anything he touches turns to gold.”
Plus, people can relate to the idea of parents frantic over finding the “hot” Christmas gift for their children. “Every father has been through that one time. For me, it was a white Power Ranger. I stalked a supply truck,” he says.
Sinbad continues to tour, performing in theaters while plotting his next career move.
“I’ve got an idea for a sitcom, some movies. I’m a one-man industry,” he says.
But he has a clear preference.
“I love movies,” he says. “TV is what it is. It’s hard for me to work in that medium. There’s certain things that work better for me, and movies do that. Maybe it’s the size of the screen. I look good big.”

The Colbert Report debuts

Early returns are mostly favorable on the debut last night of the latest, greatest Comedy Central attempt at a Daily Show follow-up, The Colbert Report. The premiere was absurd. But they were going for absurd, so they hit that. The first guest, an inspired choice in Stone Phillips, mostly because having him side-by-side with Colbert let the audience see exactly who Colbert has been mocking all these years. Hint: Not Bill O'Reilly. At any rate. Not sure how the show plans to keep up this pace, since they had a head-start for their debut. More interesting to see: How long Comedy Central waits before pulling it for the next 11:30 p.m. attempt. Can anyone name the last three shows to inhabit the time slot? Anyone. I'll even spot you one: Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn. As Wonkette wrote: "The Colbert Report tests the boundaries of just how long one can stand arch irony. Or maybe I mean satire and "arch" is just what Stephen Colbert's eyebrow does the entire show."

Meet the Walsh Brothers

David and Chris Walsh, pride and joy of Charlestown, Mass.

David and Chris Walsh in some ways resemble the Smothers Brothers as they tell their tales.
But the Walsh boys don't play musical instruments or fling yo-yos, they often dress in T-shirts and jeans, and they're completely over-the-top ridiculous.
Which is why they've been a hit many late Thursday nights at ImprovBoston in Inman Square, and Friday nights at The Comedy Studio in Harvard Square. Tomorrow, they ditch the skits and short stories to recount their attempts to be discovered at this summer's Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal.
Perhaps if they had used one of their many prop mustaches, the Walshes could've crossed the border a bit easier.
David: "We've got these six-way adjustable mustaches, which are inaccurate because we can adjust them 20 different ways and play 20 different characters.''
Chris: "It's not hiding anything, though.''
Fans soon wanted their own fake 'staches. Some receive them as prizes along with membership into The Walsh Bros. mustache club.
Chris: "It was just a silly thing that became a good idea.''
David: "We're paying it forward.''
Chris: "We found if we bought six mustaches we were wearing two and giving four away. They found it just as fun as we did when we were f---ing around doing silly characters. Dave always has three mustaches in his pocket because whenever there's a dull moment, you just pull out a mustache. On the bus or the train, no one really acts goofy. No one says that guy's goofy or that guy's a weirdo, because they're just laughing.''
David: "It's instant fun. Everywhere you pull it out, people want to put it on. No matter how disgusting that sounds, people want to put it on. When I was working at the State House, I'd work at the door. If I knew the person coming around the corner wasn't going to flip out . . .''
Out comes the mustache.
David: "Everyone would give you a smile. Everyone is having a good time.''
Chris: "It's almost a silliness divining rod.''
Their Montreal tale involves a box of 200 mustaches. How many will be worn during the show and how many will go home with fans?
David: "I don't know. We're pretty selective, too. Not everybody gets one.''
Chris: "Well, anyone who demands one.''

SNL = Still Not Laughing?

You said it, goldenfiddle. After watching all of this Saturday's Saturday Night Live and half of the season opener, I'm still waiting for the funny. Or more importantly, for some relevance. The first show at least featured Kanye West, and had the good sense to bring Mike Myers back to acknowledge his lack of improv skills during the Katrina telethon. But this past weekend, Jon Heder hosted. Um, why? Shouldn't that have happened last October? The Napoleon Dynamite impersonators during the monlogue were funny, sure, but, still, isn't SNL supposed to be hip? Not if you're booking Ashlee Simpson as a musical guest for A SECOND TIME, because that only screams desperation. Right, I said they booked Ashlee Simpson as a musical guest. Ugh. And the new guys in the cast? Er, curious. Maybe they'll be funny, if they're given a chance to do something. But don't applaud anyone for a good Al Pacino impersonation, because that is so hack. Page 2 Sports Guy, I expected more from you.

My life as a clown

I'm the clown on the right, silly!

The first and only time I had seen the real circus, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, I was but a wee little lad. My grandparents from Lynn brought me to Boston Garden, and I was amazed by an even littler lad named Michu, who in the mid-1970s toured with Ringling as "The World's Smallest Man." (the Hungarian-born Mihaly Meszaros (1940-?) later put on the ALF suit(?!) and showed up in Big Top Pee Wee) Anyhow. I looked up to Michu (literally/figuratively/whatnot) because he turned his short stature into star status. That was the closest I got to Ringling until 1997, when a newspaper I worked for outside of Seattle sent me to Clown College auditions for a first-person assignment. Since I performed with a Seattle improv troupe at the time (Fresh Art Entertainment, now defunct, with several members now appearing in TheatreSports!), it seemed like a fun and natural fit. Didn't get the Ringling job. If I had, I probably would've gone, just for the adventure (and perhaps the stories I could tell and write afterward). But a Seattle clown company offered me a job after the audition, trained me in the art of clowning and sent me on birthday parties and company picnics that summer (including Microsoft's big shebang, in which I did not see Mr. Bill Gates but did see that he had plenty of money to spend on his employees). Imagine my surreal delight when the folks promoting Ringling asked me last month if I might like to become a clown for part of opening night of the circus at the TD Banknorth Garden. The story appears below...

But first, some things that didn't make the paper.

The three-ring show itself is still pretty amazing. Not sure if I'd say it's still the greatest show on Earth, because Cirque du Soleil's various operations have convinced a number of amazing acrobats and daredevils to jump ranks, if you will. But Crazy Wilson, who somersaulted over a spinning AND rotating ring high above the crowd, definitely stole the show. And everything is very kid-friendly.

Even funnier than taking part in the circus was my decision to leave the clown makeup on for the remainder of the evening. Kids and adults outside the new Garden wondered why one of the Ringling clowns was standing on the sidewalk with them. People on the T were impressed or bewildered. By the time I got out to Cambridge to see my new favorite band, Cyanide Valentine, at T.T. The Bear's, bystanders were really confused. Truth be told, Wendy asked me to come in full clown makeup, and I didn't want to let her down. But I also relished having some bold fun again. Reminded me of my youthful foolishness. And when comedian Dave Walsh walked in the doors and began laughing at the sight of me, I knew it was going to be a fun night. Nothing like having a literal mask on your face to embolden you to hit on pretty girls in a way you'd never even think of attempting under regular nightclub circumstances. Dave and I had a lot of fun. Makes me want to get back into comedy.

But first, as promised, this short story about clowning around with the circus...

Some Herald reporters really are clowns.
Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey made me an honorary member of Clown Alley for Friday's opening-night festivities in Boston for the 134th edition of the "Greatest Show On Earth.''
Gabor Hrisafis, a not-so Ga-big Hungarian clown and six-year Ringling veteran, mentors me.
First, a face. Not too big. "Those scare the children,'' Gabor says.
Then an outfit. Amazingly, every item fits on the first try. Am I built for this gig or what?
It's 6:30 p.m. - an hour before the big show, but time for the Three Ring Adventure and my role in it to begin. Anyone with a ticket can go down among the three rings for an up-close look at the clowns, animals and other acts.
Some Garden employees who had seen me only minutes earlier as a civilian notice perceptible changes in my demeanor.
Some Ringling clowns, however, look quizzically at me, sizing me up as if I were after their jobs.
Circus "diva'' and former American Idol semifinalist Jennifer Fuentes smiles and waves at me, then asks another performer, "Who's the new guy?''
Ladies, gentlemen and children of all ages, meanwhile, quickly adopt me as one of the Ringling tribe. They want me to sign their circus programs. They want their pictures taken with me. They want me to play tricks on them.
They see me juggle balls and clubs. It's so much easier at my desk at work than here under the spotlight - hard to imagine how these pros do it.
They see me balance precariously on the low wire, which Javier and Ernando use to warm up for their amazing antics later from high above the crowd.
They see my impromptu dance number with one of the lovely ladies from Tango de Argentina.
And they see me help Gabor and Ryan Combs, a Ringling clown from Boston, engage in some slapstick shtick.
People are laughing at me, and for all of the right reasons.
For an hour, at least, I'm big time under the Big Top.

READ IT: The story in the Boston Herald.
GET TICKETS: Ringling's schedule and show info in Boston, through Oct. 16.