Join the Anti-Troll (One-Woman) Crusade!

Urban dictionary defines "trolling" as

Being a prick on the internet because you can. Typically unleashing one or more cynical or sarcastic remarks on an innocent by-stander, because it's the internet and, hey, you can.

The second definition gets a little more precise: The art of deliberately, cleverly, and secretly pissing people off, usually via the internet, using dialogue. I prefer this definition, because it doesn't limit trolling to acts of verbal aggression against "innocent" by-standers. Furthermore, it elevates trolling to the level of art. And I prefer to think of myself as an artist rather than a prick. Usually. In any case, the act of trolling doesn't have to be a negative function that creates unnecessary anger. In the right circumstances, trolls can serve a positive purpose by creating mild bemusement, while possibly making an important contribution to society. Allow me to explain.  One of my biggest pet peeves on Facebook (next to verbal lovemaking and quoting song lyrics without citation or context) is the Negative Nancy. You know, the one who's always talking about how dumb things are, and [insert 4-letter expletive here] people who like/do those dumb things? Such behavior is nothing more than proactive trolling, and it is NOT a victimless crime. I'm pretty sure I saw a billboard that said that, so it must be true. In any case, it's mean-spirited and not clever, and it annoys me.  And since you can't fight fire with fire (unless you really like fire, and the first fire is threatening to go out), I decided to take another approach. I call it the Anti-Troll, and it goes a little something like this:  You'll notice that 3 people "liked" my comment, including myself.  If this overwhelming show of support is any indication of the success of my anti-trolling campaign, then I'm about to blow your mind even further. Because what you can't see is that my comment went completely unremarked upon by the Negative Nancy in question. And if the primary purpose of trolling is to provoke a reaction, then I have obviously succeeded beyond measure in creating a perfect Anti-Troll. Victory is mine!

Everybody Bombs.

Any stand-up comic will tell you that if you've never bombed, you're not doing it right. Or something like that. The point is, I take the practice of bombing very seriously. Not only do I practice it on stage, but I've recently begun to introduce failed jokes - or as I prefer to call them, humortunities - into my work day.

For example, just yesterday I had a meeting at the office, and I noticed that one of my coworkers had a really neat pen. I will now demonstrate how, with a little initiative and complete lack of foresight, one can transform even the most mundane of conversations into a dynamic and exciting bombing experience.

Me:  Oooh! I like your pen!

Coworker [polite]:  Oh, thanks, it writes really well, too.

Me [mischeivous]:  Wow. I'm totally suffering from pen envy right now...

Crickets [bored]:  Chirp. Chirp.

Me [encouraging]:  Get it? 

Crickets and Coworkers [extreme disinterest]: ....

Me [courageously undaunted]:  PEN envy? It's like, two letters away from...[finally seeing the situation clearly] nevermind, you guys have been great! Good night!

And, scene! See what I did there? It's like the great C.S. Lewis once said, "Failures are the finger posts on the road to achievement." So, in summation, if anyone knows what a finger post is, please enlighten me so I can start bragging about how many of them I have. You guys have been great!

This Never Would've Happened if Michael Jackson were Alive (RIP).

My friends and I are crowded into the back bar of a soul food restaurant for a female-friendly (though man-welcoming) open mic night. We are waiting for the opening comics to finish their sets so that we can take over. (If you wonder why female comics would need their own open mic, keep reading.)

“What is this over here?” A male comic addresses the audience from the stage, waving his hand over the group of women who occupy most of the room. He smiles and speaks to us like we are someone’s adorable grandmother. “Someone’s birthday? Girls’ night out?”

“No,” answers my friend. “We’re here for the open mic.”

“There’s an open mic tonight?”

“Yeah, you're part of it. We go on after your set.”

“And all of ya’ll – allll of ya’ll – are here for the open mic?” he asks in disbelief. Forty female heads collectively nod. Unnerved, he continues through the rest of his set, awkward and stumbling, karmic justice for those of us in the crowd.

He is perplexed for a number of reasons. The first is that his five-minute set is not the draw for this roomful of women. The second is the realization that women don’t celebrate birthdays by attending open mics at random bars. The third is that women – who are, by evolution and genetics, clearly not funny – are here to perform, not watch, at an open mic.

Compared to what a lot of female comics have experienced, this incident was relatively harmless. Indeed, it was less offensive than the wall of silence female comedians regularly encounter at open mics after an audience of 90 percent male comics, having just guffawed their way through 45 minutes of dick and cum jokes, stand cross-armed and glaring as a woman performs her five-minute set.

The host, who is also the offending comic’s friend, is embarrassed, though she assures us later that he’s a wonderful guy who happened to make a really stupid faux pas. I get that – we all sound like idiots sometimes. It’s just that if even the nice guys still think it’s preposterous for women to be funny, the road to acceptance is that much longer.