Shocking Subjects, Sensationally: The Comedy of John Ross
Words by Joseph Atkins | Photos by Duy Ninh
John Ross is occasionally unshaven, his hair is regularly maintained, and he wears thin black glasses. He’s got a low-key demeanor emphasized by his polo shirts and Dickies pants. He’s got three kids, a stable marriage, and he just got a job selling plumbing supplies. He’s a regular, well, John. Oh, and as a hobby he writes and performs jokes.
Ross has a dry sense of humor that depends on awkwardness, absurdity, and tension. He’s not flamboyant, in your face or crazy on stage. Ross slowly threads out a joke, waits a few seconds to build the audience’s confusion, and then flatly drops the punchline. After awkward crickets, suddenly everyone is laughing.
To summarize his story is to sensationalize it: Ross was born addicted to methadone, his parents were junkies, and he was molested once by a 12-year-old. But in talking to Ross, you’d never know such an average dude would have such an Oprah-esque back-story. But with his comedy, the audience is invited to laugh at and laugh with Ross: while he uses his sensational history for subject matter, he’s likely smiling the entire time and repeatedly shattering the boundaries of personal-information discomfort.
In July, Ross recorded his live set at the Sacramento Comedy Spot and since then has been hard at work editing it into a DVD feature. Ross will celebrate the DVD release of I Really, Really Love Me Nov. 13, 2010 by sharing the stage with his favorite local comedians and friends. We sat down just next to the Comedy Spot and discussed comedy, family and sensationalism over slices of pizza. For most of the interview, a group of children ran around us, sword fighting.
So, what does being born addicted to methadone mean?
It means my mom was born addicted to heroin, and my mom went on methadone to make sure I wasn’t retarded or developmentally disabled. There’s a weaning process, detox, when I was an infant. As far as I know there were no long-term effects. I don’t walk with a limp or anything. I do have a hard time focusing; I wonder sometimes if it has something to do with that. Or I’m just normal.
Your comedy relies a lot on your personal history. Why is that?
This sounds really cheesy, but I think I have a very interesting upbringing. Everything from being raised by junkies, to being Pentecostal Christian for a while–I’ve been through a lot of weird things. This might sound really retarded, but it might be an interesting story, so why not tell it? Not to exploit it. I’m not saying I think it’s a story that needs to be told to the world, but it’s a good story. A lot of my stuff is character-based, kind of true, kind of real, just embellished a little bit. I just tell you a story…
How did you decide that stuff would be a good subject for jokes?
It was kind of my first instinct when I started. I could do tons of dick jokes, jokes about having sex. If I do my parents are heroin addicts jokes, I know I’m not accidentally copying anyone. I’ve been doing jokes about when I was molested when I was 4, by a 12-year-old. Yeah they’re pretty harsh subjects, but it’s fucking funny. I like to build tension, and then release it. And if you’re going to steal my joke, it’s going to be obvious. Everyone’s going to know it.
What is it about absurdity that is so funny?
It’s just that you can say something and not say anything at all. You can take a real issue, something that you’re passionate about, but unless you’re like George Carlin or something, no one wants to hear you. Absurdity can take something pretty far; you can say something you wouldn’t say in a regular conversation. I’ve got a joke that Elvis is a racist, and I’m like, “I’m already a fan!” The further you go, the more obvious you’re not a racist. You can take a sensitive issue and go as far as you want; the further you go the more people know you’re not serious. They start uncomfortable and by the time you’re finished, they’re like, Thank God, he’s joking.
I think comedy is about awkwardness. I like to make feel people feel awkward, corporately. And let them know I’m messing around. I like to be as honest and absurd as I can. I don’t choke up. Anything horrible I try to make a joke out of; maybe it’s a defense mechanism.
I think your act is pretty funny, but I could imagine that some people might not really get what you’re doing. How do crowds react differently to your joke aesthetic?
With smart crowds you can get away with a lot more, people who know comedy. More conservative crowds, they just want to hear dick jokes, they don’t get subtlety. Lately I just say what I’m going to say. I did a show in Woodland, and it was a great crowd. But I could tell that I was making them uncomfortable. I didn’t apologize, or I didn’t apologize too much. If I get a really conservative crowd that isn’t biting on anything, I will punish them. Sometimes it’s just fun to be on stage, tell the awkward story to your friends.
Part of your routine relies on a weird music-box device. What’s that called?
It’s called an Omnichord. With the Omnichord I have to be careful, anything more than 15 minutes, people start going, “What the fuck? This is annoying.” In a shorter set, with the Omnichord, I like to do a lot of non-sequiturs, one-liners. You can get away with a lot of darker stuff with the Omnichord.

There’s a lot of shocking subject matter in your jokes. Would you consider your jokes in the tradition of shock?
I’m not going to say fuck just to say fuck. I’m not going to talk about junkies just because. I don’t go out to shock for the sake of shock. I’m not as edgy as some comics are. I’m actually fairly clean compared to some comics.
When you’re writing material, do you have an agenda, or are you just trying to come up with funny things?
I’m only 32, but the older I get, the more agenda-ridden I get. If I want to talk about something, I just do. My daughter turned 1 the other day, and I was thinking about it, all the change she’s going to see in her lifetime, all the technology. And the one thing I hope she sees before she dies is her first white president. As long as she makes it to like 3, she’s pretty good. Like wow, she only knows a black president. How weird is that?
Race seems to be somewhat taboo in our culture. What’s up with that?
I do a lot of racial jokes. I try not to do racist jokes. Race is fascinating to me, and I don’t think you find a lot of white guys doing race jokes. I don’t make fun of the homeless, but I saw a homeless guy wearing a “World’s Greatest Dad” shirt. And I was like, that’s all I have to say. I saw him. That’s the end of that joke.
You’ve been performing comedy for six years; who have you performed with?
I got to open for Bobcat Goldthwait at Laughs Unlimited last year. I think he’s doing comedy just to pay for his divorce. He was really nice; he bought me dinner. I thought he was funny.
The biggest guy I ever opened for was Norm MacDonald. I was in Los Angeles, and my buddy runs the Hollywood Improv and he put me last on an early show. It was completely packed. Right before I went up the promoter told me to cut my set to five to six minutes, Norm MacDonald had just shown up. And I’m like what the fuck! Norm MacDonald is my favorite. I love this guy. I had one of the best sets ever. I got done and I was shaking hands, and I look up and it’s Norm MacDonald. He was like, “You’re really funny there. That was really funny.” I was like, “Thank you, Norm MacDonald.” Oh my God. I floated back to my seat. I watched him bomb, it was funny. He was drunk. He’s a throwaway comic anyway. He doesn’t care.
That same night I met Nick Swardson. I talked with Gallagher at the bar too. My buddy told me he’s gay. I heard he tries to fuck young comics. He’s self-hating, that’s why he crushes fruit. He was kind of bitter. My buddy was like, “Watch out, man.” I’m thinking, “Gallagher’s not gonna fuck me. Well maybe he could, if it would help my career.” We talked about my Omnichord. He gave me some good ideas on how to use it. It was pretty surreal.
That was the best night of comedy ever. One night in L.A. is like six months in Sacramento as far as networking. I just met a ton of people on an off night, a Sunday night.
What advice would you give to aspiring comedians?
If there’s something fucked up in your life, find it and make it funny. And don’t steal shit.
Thanks man.
Thank you. If you can, don’t make me look like a dick.

John Ross will celebrate the release of his DVD, I Really, Really Love Me, at the Sacramento Comedy Spot on Nov. 13. Tickets are $10, and the show time is 7 p.m. DVDs will be on sale at the event for $7. For more information, go to www.saccomedyspot.com.
Comedian Mike E. Winfield stands ready to command a larger audience
With a performance on The Late Show with David Letterman airing in the near future, Mike E. Winfield has succeeded in dropping the “local” prefix from his title of comedian. In fact, the local label has been absent for some time, given Winfield’s appearances on Last Comic Standing, Comedy Central’s Live at Gotham, and various comedy festivals and competitions.
After eight years deep in comedy, 2010 could be his breakout year–Mike officially quit his day jobs to pursue comedy full-time. He attributes his success to a dedication to the craft and inspiration from New York Times bestseller Outliers and its 10,000 Hours Rule, which states that greatness in a specific field requires 20 hours of work per week over 10 years. “Certain people aren’t successful just on talent,” he said. “It’s the people who mix talent with opportunity. When I do shows, if it’s in my power, I stretch it to make an hour show an hour-and-15-minute show. It’s an art. That’s what it is. I’m working on this artistic form all the time. Putting it out there and getting a Facebook request a day.”
So far, he’s stayed busy. He touched down in Sacramento the day we arranged an interview, fresh off a flight from Nebraska–“yes, Nebraska, Nebraska,” he confirmed. Two months prior to his stint in Cornhusker land, he did a U.S.O. show in Okinawa, Japan. This month, he’s treating his hometown to a headlining show at the Punchline. “This one has the most buildup,” he said. “It’s from an accumulation of being on stuff. More people recognize me now.”
So I read on your blog that you went snowboarding once, and it’s going to be the only time. What happened that was so traumatizing?
I hit a little kid, man. I was dumb. I forgot to learn how to brake before I went to the more advanced slopes. I was doing full speed and this kid was coming horizontally. I see the kid from far away coming toward this perfect intersection.
I kept thinking, “No, this is not about to happen;” that poor little girl, man. She had on pink and her skis ended up stuck straight up in the snow. I played like I was hurt so I wouldn’t look like a dick. Her dad yelled at me. My friend, who I will never hang out with again, he was like, “You should probably apologize.”
It was fun up until that point. I didn’t even have the right attire. I just put on a whole bunch of clothes. I had Vaseline on my face because I heard it would keep me warm.
I feel like somebody played a joke on you with the Vaseline thing. You also just got back from Japan?
Yeah, I was in Okinawa for a military show. There are troops stationed out there. You want to talk about people who appreciated a show. You didn’t want to leave. There are some bad situations out there. You feel for the troops. They are working hard. A lot of them don’t want to be there. There’s nothing to do. All their outlets are alcohol and clubs, just drinking, waiting for their time to pass.
That was my first one, and I’m down to do more. It felt like I was giving. I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing in life for the right reasons finally.
Are there any weird cultural experiences you had?
The fact that all the vehicles were the same things we had, but smaller versions of them. That struck me first.
Did you earn your stripes in Sacramento?
Yeah, I think I first got on stage at Laughs Unlimited. My first work, I did a weekend at the Punchline, then the following weekend I was booked at Laughs Unlimited. So like my first week of work was two back-to-back weeks. It just didn’t stop. I felt like a new person because I was getting a lot of work. I think it was because I was really clean. It’s opened up a lot of doors.
Would you still consider your material to be clean?
I have my times. Lately I’m on being whoever I am. I just want to be myself and have people say, “Yeah, I’m going to see this guy because he’s funny,” not because, “He does dances and then a flip at the end.” I just want them to go because they think Mike E. Winfield is a funny dude.
I read that you consider your college speech class your start at comedy. Is there truth to that?
As soon as I’d walk in front of the class they’d just start laughing. I would talk about how to make a Whopper. I didn’t have any intellectual speeches. I’d get grades on the delivery, but the content would get Ds. The professor said to just try [standup].
It was fun. I wish I could take another speech class to make up for what I did back in the day.
Whatever happened with the pilot you did with Bobby Lee of MadTV? I take it that didn’t get picked up? Are you trying to break into television and film?
That was like two and a half years ago. It just didn’t get picked up. I’ve been in some other stuff. I’ve decided this is my goal: I’m just going to do standup until I’m happy with the product I have from it. When I’m ready to pitch my own show, I’ll already have my sitcom ideas. If somebody gives me an offer, I’ll do it. I’m just not going to audition for some crap I don’t want to be in anyway.
You look at the greats. They came up with their own product. They had a fan base from standup or whatever else, and they pushed their own stuff. I enjoy standup too much anyway.
Why is it important we include the E. when printing your name?
Right now, it sticks out. The E. has a ring to it–just a little. That’s going to be my thing. Remember when Puff Daddy changed his name? When I get big I’m going to drop the E. That’s how you’ll know. I’ll even throw a press conference.
Ngaio Bealum Brings the Eighth or Ninth Cannabis Comedy Festival to Sacramento
Ngaio Bealum is out to change your perception of what a stoner is supposed to be. Though the Sacramento-based comedian makes no qualms about his love affair with marijuana, his track record isn’t that of a couch-bound video game/Saturday morning cartoon junkie. Instead, you’ll find a man who is hard working and highly motivated.
“I’m not always a fan of how stoners are portrayed in the major media,” Bealum says. He believes his standup routine shows “cannabis consumers” in a different light. “I’m a pretty cool guy; I’m relatively smart, quick-witted. You know what I’m saying? I’m not dumb or unmotivated.”
If watching his act won’t change your mind, just look at his resume. Not only has he survived as a professional standup comedian for the past 20 years (he celebrates his 21st anniversary as a pro in October), he also publishes his own magazine, West Coast Cannabis, a full-color 96-page glossy, which first hit shelves in February 2008.
“It was really a ‘How hard can it be?’ sort of decision,” Bealum says of his choice to fit producing a magazine into his busy touring schedule. “But it turned out where it’s not too hard, but it was definitely a challenge at first. We’re getting it to where it flows pretty good now, but there was definitely a point or two where it was like, whoa, you know.”
In addition to that, Bealum also organizes the Cannabis Comedy Festival, which will celebrate its eighth or ninth installment (Bealum couldn’t remember which) Oct. 7 and 8 at the Punch Line in Sacramento. Bealum will host the event that boasts a lineup that includes DJ Mervin, Caitlin Gill, Keith Lowell Jensen and others. The traveling event has made stops in Portland, San Francisco and New Orleans in the past and is a fundraiser for Americans for Safe Access, an organization that helps “people who need marijuana for medical reasons have safe access to it,” says Bealum.
“I’m a big fan if you can raise money, educate and have a good time all at the same time,” he explains.
Submerge spoke with Bealum as he was preparing for a second night at Punch Line in San Francisco, after just returning from Hempstock in Portland, Ore., an event he likened to “an Oktoberfest or a wine tasting.”
“You know, all the connoisseurs get together and bring their favorite flavors, and other people bring smaller things that they had grown,” Bealum said of Hempstock and other events of its ilk, such as the Cannabis Cup. “It’s all really medical. It’s really nice.”
In the following interview, Bealum talks about his decades-long career and his favorite flavor of, well, you know”¦
Do you consider yourself a marijuana connoisseur? Do you have your favorite strain?
I’m a connoisseur for sure. I’m a big fan of sativas”¦not so much the Trainwreck, I like this new Green Ribbon that’s out right now.
What do you like most about it?
I like the kind of buzz-y head-high effects where you feel a little energized and maybe kind of chatty. I’m not so much the sit on the couch all day smoking weed stoner. That’s not for me.
If you were that kind of stoner, what would you recommend?
For that, if you’re old school, you’d go with a Romulan. But if you’re the new kids, they like the Kush or the Granddaddy Purple.
The number I’m calling you on is a Southern California number, but you’re living in Sacramento now, right?
I’ve been living in Sacramento for about a year, but it’s an open secret, so if they call me from L.A., I can still pretend. “I’ll be right there”¦in about five hours.”
What made you move up north? It seems like L.A. would be a more happening town for a comedian.
L.A.’s not really my style. I love Sacramento. It’s got a lot of civic pride, and my girlfriend lives up here, my brother lives up here, and my mom’s not too far away. She lives in San Francisco”¦ It’s got good restaurants. We rode our bikes to go to The Crocker, and then to the River Cats game. It was awesome.
Was there a final straw for you that caused you to move out of L.A.?
No, L.A. and I just get along better from a distance”¦ It’s better when I can just go down there to work and then come home.
I’ve had friends who have had prescription cards for marijuana. Do you have one as well?
I do.
A couple of friends who had cards, they didn’t really have a condition or anything. They just got their cards from doctors who were quick to give them out. I’m not saying that’s the case with you, but do you think that sort of thing hurts the cause of people fighting for marijuana legislation reform?
I quote Dennis Peron when he says, “All marijuana use is medical use.” Now, some people may not take it to that extreme, but if you derive some therapeutic value from feeling better”¦ Studies say that if you take a shot or two or have a glass of wine after dinner, you may actually get some benefit from it, so who’s to say that people who enjoy a toke or two aren’t getting some benefit from it. It’s a natural anti-inflammatory and mood leavener, so who doesn’t like to smooth out and feel less pain?
Do you foresee a day when marijuana is just legal across the board?
Yeah, I don’t think that’s too far in the future, actually. It’s getting there. We’re starting to reach the tipping point.
You’ve been doing this for 21 years now”¦
Yeah, 20 years. October will be my 21st anniversary as a professional comedian. Where’s my watch and retirement plan?
Is there a good pension for comics?
Yeah, it’s called shitty one-nighters. You can do those till you’re 80—have your kids drive you. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get to Missoula. Hurry!”
Does it bother you to be labeled as a weed comedian?
No. As I’ve said, I’ve made a pretty good career out of it. You know, it’s funny, because I did a show at the Punch Line last night, and it wasn’t even a stoner crowd, which was funny to me. It took me by surprise at first, because I didn’t really go for a lot of the marijuana jokes, so fortunately, I have a whole other act that consists of jokes about my kids and quantum physics and psychedelic poetry.
In the years you’ve been a professional comedian, how have you seen the scene change?
I started comedy in 1988, which was sort of the ass-end of the comedy boom. Comedy was just starting to take off, there were a lot of clubs and there weren’t really that many comics, so there was a lot of work everywhere. It was really comedy-based. If you were really funny, you’d get a lot of work. It didn’t matter if you were on TV or not. When I started, you had to do a lot of roadwork in clubs to get on TV, and now, you have to get on TV to get into the clubs. I also think that comedy is changing its model, because more and more corporations have gotten involved. You know, Viacom owns Comedy Central, so comedy has become a commodity and not just a visceral way to entertain people. But with the advent of the Internet, I think the underground scene is coming back again, and the do-it-yourself punk rock vibe where all you really need is a room and a microphone and 50 people who can pay $5. You can make some money and get your point across without worrying about what you can and cannot say and how you will be perceived on television.
See the Cannabis Comedy Festival on Oct. 7 and 8 at the Punch Line in Sacramento. The show is 18 and over and carries a two-drink minimum. For more information on Americans for Safe Access, go to www.safeaccessnow.org

Keith Lowell Jensen takes off with a new stand-up CD
A comedian walks into a bar and says—well, he says lots of things, actually. The comedian is Keith Lowell Jensen and the bar is actually a juice bar: Luna’s Café, to be exact. Jensen’s new stand-up CD titled To the Moon was recorded live at Luna’s Café back in April of this year and features an hour of Jensen’s signature lowbrow, indie comedy. Jensen is typically known for his atheist, Christian-bashing humor that has grown in popularity due to the success of the Coexist? Comedy Tour that Jensen is a part of. The tour is a motley crew consisting of a Muslim, a Christian, a Hindu, a Jew, an atheist and a Buddhist. Jensen, along with fellow Coexist? comedian Tapan Trivedi, founded the tour after realizing their shared affinity for blasphemy.
To the Moon finds Jensen rocketing his material to new heights, touching upon anything from having a kid to the costumes in porn. Jensen gets introspective too, poking fun at his experience of attending continuation school as well as the constant confusion of whether or not he’s gay. But the most poignant moment on the CD is the closing track, a nine-minute story describing a childhood memory in which Jensen was duped by his older brother first into sitting in a pile of German Shepherd feces and then making his own deposit in a can, all to the dismay and laughter of his mother. What starts off sounding like a poop joke ends up being a window into the early developmental influences of a talented, comedic mind.
Standing at about 6 feet tall, with low maintenance attire and a unique voice that’s been described as “Muppet-like,” Keith Lowell Jensen is a true performer. He got his start in his early 20s when he was put on stage as an MC for the infamous Spike and Mike Festival of Animation, which reached the height of its popularity by showcasing shorts by such industry greats like Bill Plympton, John Kricfalusi, John Lasseter and Nick Park, just to name a handful.
“That to me is when I started doing stand-up.” says Jensen about his beginnings. “I could have said longer, because I was a ventriloquist in the fourth grade.”
From there his love of performing took him in the direction of sketch comedy, which would put his MC personality on the back burner. But for Jensen, being pulled away from stand-up to do sketch was all part of the process to becoming a better comedian. Biographies of other comedians that Jensen grew to love all had one thing in common: some kind of sketch comedy experience. Jensen wanted that experience too. So in 2001, Jensen formed the sketch comedy troupe I Can’t Believe It’s Not Comedy and focused his attention on writing, acting and directing.
“I just fell in love with it,” reminisces Jensen. “And not just performing it but when you write and direct something and someone else performs it; it’s a really satisfying feeling.”
ICBINC has performed all over Sacramento and also found its way up north to Seattle and down south to Los Angeles. The troupe, although currently on hiatus, is still in existence and all but one of the members is part of the original cast.
During the course of performing heavily with ICBINC, Jensen still found time for stand-up when he could.
“I did it once in a while to keep my chops up.” says Jensen.
Jensen made the jump back into stand-up when his friend and fellow comedian Brent Weinbach needed his help with booking a gig. One of the comedians on the bill, Tapan Trivedi, asked Jensen to share the bill with them and he agreed.
“I didn’t know what I wanted to talk about, it had been so long. So I did half the show on homophobia and half the show on religion.”
That night, his atheist comedy was born—and not long after, so was Coexist?. Trivedi and Jensen assembled four other comedians for the tour and what followed were gigs at some of the top comedy clubs on the West Coast including the Hollywood Improv and San Francisco’s Punchline. What also contributed to the success of Jensen’s atheist brand of humor was his use of YouTube as a means to broadcast his stand-up to a larger audience. Fan bases around the world have popped up, especially in Sweden, where his Swedish last name rings bells with the locals.
Since the conception of the Coexist? Comedy Tour, the past two and half years have been a learning process for Jensen, who has been extremely focused on his stand-up, always looking to improve upon his jokes and build upon the foundation that was formed from doing years of sketch.
“Sketch gave me a freedom in stand-up to play characters a little bit more, to change my voice when I’m giving the words of another person or in quotes within a joke. I think sketch certainly helped me with pacing,” he says.
For Jensen, the writing and performing process is ever changing and spontaneous. Some of the material on To the Moon was written the day it was recorded. Depending on how the crowd is that night, Jensen can add or subtract material at a whim.
“It’s just an interesting part of this art form; it’s so fluid and it’s such a back and forth with the audience. There are very few art forms where you put it in front of the audience and you go back and forth and you keep molding it and changing it according to how it sits with them,” says Jensen.
With a tour schedule that has brought him attention outside of Sacramento and the Internet at his disposal for promoting his stand-up, its seems that at this point in his career it would make sense for Keith Lowell Jensen to move to where there’s more work and a bigger market. But making the move to somewhere like Los Angeles just isn’t in the cards. In fact, being from Sacramento is part of his brand, says Jensen.
“It’s an unusual identity to be from somewhere like Sacramento, and to be proud of where you’re from and not feel the need to switch it up and go down to L.A. I don’t want to be an L.A. comic, I’m a Sacramento comic,” says Jensen.
Sacramento is lucky to have Jensen, who is more than qualified to be an ambassador for the River City. He’s practically a household name in the arts community, and for good reason. This past March saw the release of his documentary, Why Lie? I Need a Drink, a hilarious look at panhandling from a homeless and non-homeless perspective. The non-homeless perspective showcased Jensen in various costumes with a multitude of signs bearing clever phrases like, “Large bills OK, can make change.” It premiered at The Crest Theatre and had quite a successful run; look for a DVD release this September. And if a tour, a CD and a documentary weren’t enough, Jensen authored a book titled The Atheist Survival Guide: A Humorous Guide to Getting By in a God Fearing World that is slated for release in November.
Considering the breadth of his undertakings, it may seem like there’s no rest in sight for Jensen. However, he might have to take a break after all with the arrival of another important something—a baby girl due in October. With the success of all his other endeavors, fatherhood should be a walk in the park. Or should I say, a trip to the moon.