We don’t write about music on here much, but Philadelphia comedian Aaron Hertzog wanted to mention a few rap albums that will be released soon.

More after the jump.

Things just seem to happen to Gregg Gethard. After telling a few stories at comedy shows in New York City, he created his own monthly show in Philly, BEDTIME STORIES, to tell a few more. Over the past year the show has grown in audience and features some of the best comics in the city.

Here, Gethard recounts his experience on the public television game show Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?. Stick around at the end of this epic tale as we’ve managed to upload the footage of his now infamous episode on Youtube. The next installment of Bedtime Stories is next Wednesday night at the Shubin Theatre (407 Bainbridge St.), 8PM, $10.

Ilan Goldberg must be destroyed.

That was the only thought going through my head. I was in eighth grade. Do you remember those kids in youth league soccer whose teams would kill yours by like 17 goals? And there was the one kid who scored nine goals already, and he’d try for one more goal, except the ref would call him offsides and he’d flip out and start cursing out everyone in sight and would start bawling hysterically? Or, at the tender age of 12, were you ever forced to be placed in a situation where you had to deal with someone who told you all the ways they were better than you (“I go to private school because education at public schools it terrible,” “I went on a tour of Europe last summer, where did you go on vacation?”)

Ilan Goldberg was that person. And I wanted to destroy him.

Hi. I’m Gregg Gethard. I’m the host of the wildly popular monthly comedy night entitled Bedtime Stories. I’m also the star and main draw of the wildly popular local sketch comedy group entitled The Sixth Borough. I’m also a known raconteur and political gadfly.

But before all of that, I was a 12-year-old boy. I was small, I was weird and, due to the fact we just got Comedy Central on our local cable system, I was starting to develop my sense of humor, which I would later refine to become one of the greatest comic minds of his generation.

I also had a major, repressed chip on my shoulder. Due to my small size and my weirdness, I was picked on a lot as a kid. It was a rare chance that I had to not just fight back, but to also win.

And against Ilan Goldberg… I had a chance to do it. On national television, nonetheless.

What follows is a tale unlike any which you have head before, unless, of course, I have already told it to you. This is a story of conflict, absurdity, hubris, triumph and love. This is the defining story of my life.

This is the story of my appearance on the early-90’s hit PBS game show entitled “Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?”

Read on and watch the footage after the jump…

The Beginning

Ilan, albeit a dick, was right about one thing. His private school was definitely better than the public middle school I went to. Our first history teacher that year, Mrs. Kaplan, quit after Chris Russamano pelted her in the face with an egg. We had a permanent sub the rest of the year who pretty much sat at the front of the room chomping on gum and asking girls who they wanted to date.

One day, we entered the classroom and were told to take a test. No reason was given. We assumed it was some bullshit prep exam for the statewide test we all had to take that year. It was a simple geography test – identifying states, countries, major rivers, oceans and the like. Being one of the handful of Edison Middle School students who could read at grade level, this thing was a piece of cake.

A week later, the people who finished in the Top 30 of this test were told to report to the library. There, we were told about a new television show in the works based off the popular computer game entitled “Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?” They would be casting students from our school to be contestants.

They asked us a series of interview questions about ourselves and about geography. A few days later, I learned that I was selected to be a contestant on the show.

The Time I Met Ilan

About a month later, I went in for the taping of the show, which was in New York’s Chelsea neighborhood. I had never taken either the PATH train nor a New York City subway before then. I had envisioned, from local news reports and the comments of my parents, that New York was a cesspool of crime, violence and despair. I didn’t see too much of that, but I did see a Muslim woman nearly dragged to her death as she threw her purse in the doors of the subway hoping to get on board.

We went into the green room, where we met our competitors. One I already new: Prema. (I won’t even bother to try and spell her last name. It’s long and she was born in India.) Prema went to school with me. She was a really shy, sweet braniac who would later go on to be one of my high school’s valedictorians. Then I met Ilan.

Ilan had the smug, awful tone of a pre-teen who feels completely entitled. No doubt, his parents drove a car that cost what my dad made in a year, the tuition of his private school cost more than my college tuition did, he bragged about his SAT-prep scores (“I already cracked 1100!”) and his prowess in both basketball and soccer. And he openly talked about how he was confident he would win the show because he won his school’s geography bee. I immediately wanted to punch him in the dick.

I didn’t study too much for the show. This is because I never studied for anything at that point in my life. (Seriously – I had awful grades in middle school. And in high school. And for the first three years of college.)

They taped two episodes at a time in the studio. However, the first episode went too long. Our episode would have to happen the next week.

And this gave me time to plot my public humiliation of Ilan.

The Episode

I found every atlas I could find and studied my ass off. I learned Canadian provinces, Australian states and Russian cities. Anytime I put the book down to watch TV or goof off with my brother, I immediately thought about Ilan. And I studied some more. I was on a quest.

We went into the studio the next week. And then the episode began.

We were introduced on the show (where I did the “Arsenio Dog Woop” gesture which, in 1990, had swept through the country like it was the HIV Virus), and then we had to answer our first question. I had a ton of nervous energy, and I got a pretty simple question completely wrong.

Then came a part of the show that will live on in personal infamy. Remember how earlier I said I had started to develop my “edgy” sense of humor? (This is what we expert comedians refer to as a “callback.”) During this part of the show, we were introduced to the audience. And we had to tell them our interests and what we wanted to be when we grew up. My answers: a baseball manager or a stand-up comedian.

We had to go over this earlier with a PA who was preparing us in the green room. I told him this and he flipped out. He asked me to tell him a joke. Being that I was 12, I did not exactly have any material actually planned and, plus, I’m more of an “observational” comedian anyways. He then wrote a joke for me.

And this is what I said on national television:

ME: Knock Knock

AUDIENCE: Who’s There?

ME: Humpty.

AUDIENCE: Humpty Who?

I then started wildly flailing my arms in a seizure-like gesture that I thought was dancing.

“My name is Humpty. Say it with an Umpty.”

The audience reaction was a mixture of shock, polite applause and a smattering of boos.

I had bombed. On national television. At the age of 12.

I was also repeatedly scolded both on and off the air for leaning into the microphone. Despite my C- average, I was the captain of the Edison Middle School academic quiz bowl team. (Where we finished second two years in a row, losing to our cross-town rivals Roosevelt both years. I still hate their captain, Jared Strauss, to this day.) In quiz bowl, we had to lean in the microphone to say our answers. If not, we would be penalized points. We drilled at length proper microphone technique. It was hard to break that.

But I soon settled in. And, as you can see in the video, I kicked ass. And then… then I got a little cocky.

Hubris

The final part of the first round on Carmen Sandiego was set up a little like Final Jeopardy. Host Greg Lee would run down a list of “clues” about what city he was talking about. And then, from three choices, we would have to pick that city. We would also have to select a number of points to wager. The top two after the first round then got to move to the second round of competition.

I was ahead. I could have played it “safe.” But I really wanted to rub it in Ilan’s face. I wanted him to walk away knowing I and my failing public school education had trumped his pansy rich kid ass. So I wagered more points than I needed to.

Ilan went first. His answer from the clues was Boston.

Fuck.

The answer I had selected was Newark. I now was going to lose to this shithead, all because I got too cocky.

There was only one thing I could do.

And that was to cheat.

I held up my placard that said Newark. And I loudly screamed BOSTON as loud as I could.

Production came to a screeching halt.

I asked what was wrong. They told me my card said Newark. I then started to freak out and made myself cry. “I’m so nervous. I’m so nervous being on TV,” I kept on blubbering.

My parents and Ilan’s parents were waiting together (and, no doubt, my parents were mortified of my earlier crash-and-burn attempt at humor) in the green room watching our episode unfold. Ilan’s mom flipped out and started calling me a little cheater. Naturally, my parents came to my defense. It was not until years later that I confessed to my parents that I actually did try to cheat.

They then asked Prema what her answer was. She, too, picked Newark. And she wagered a lot of points as well. She had finished in last place. I was in second.

We retaped the segment. This time, I hold my card and, in an incredibly sad tone of voice, I say “Newark.” Then, a little bit of a suppressed smirk appears on my face, as it started to sink in that this entire day had become a complete and total public fiasco.

But, alas, I was onto the second round.

The Next Part

The second round of the show was a simple guessing game. On a board were various attractions in the city of Boston. Behind the name of each attraction was either a blank space or The Loot, The Warrant or The Crook. We had to find The Loot, The Warrant and The Crook in that order.

We did battle and, eventually, The Loot and The Crook were found. But The Warrant still remained out there. Ilan had a guess to find the answer. He was wrong. There were only a few places left we did not guess. And, with a lot of anticipation in my voice, I guessed correctly. I had, finally, defeated Ilan.

Victory confetti fell from the sky. I took it all in. And then, I arrogantly turned around to Ilan and shook his hand and said a very condescending “Good Game.”

The camera closes in on his face as co-host Lynn Thigpen (aka the mysterious DJ lips in cult-classic “The Warriors”) told Ilan his numerous runner-up prizes. He is clearly welling up with tears.

To this day, whenever I watch the tape of the show, I still get a sense of satisfaction as I watch a pre-teen cry at my hands.

I then went on to the next round, where I had 45 seconds to identify seven African nations by placing a lighted pole on them. I missed the first one, but then was given two easy ones: South Africa and Madagascar. Then, I was given Burkina Faso. I had written a paper on the nation formerly known as Upper Volta the year before. I nailed it. Then, somehow, I guessed where Uganda and Central African Republic were. Then time ran out. I came really close to winning the grand prize, which was a trip to anywhere in the lower 48 states.

But I did, at the end of the show, get to point up to the crane camera and say the three words which would define our generation.

“Do It Rockapella!”

Epilogue

We taped the show that spring. That fall, the show debuted on PBS. My episode aired a few weeks into my first year in high school.

I was so incredibly nervous. Your fist weeks of high school are so incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. And here I was, on the air, showing the world what an incredible geek I was. And, not just that, but I also tell a spectacularly bad joke and make a complete ass of myself on national television. I could only hope that no one would actually watch this show.

But how wrong I was.

Being that is was a new show, a lot of kids did watch it. And not just that, but it was also on PBS. There’s a broadcasting rule that dictates all cable systems have to carry every local over-the-air channel within a certain radius. In New Jersey, there are an insane amount of PBS affiliates within broadcast range: Channel 13, a variety of New Jersey Network channels, another New York City based PBS channel, Long Island’s PBS channel and one from Westchester County.

And while the show was on PBS, it did not air every episode in order at a certain time. They could show whatever episode they wanted at whatever time they wanted. And my episode aired, seemingly, for every single day for three consecutive years. I would casually flip through the channels… and there I was, doing The Humpty Dance again. And every single person I went to high school with saw this. I would consistently get stopped at places like the supermarket with people asking me if I was the kid from Carmen Sandiego.

Eventually, I grew to love how ridiculous the whole ting was and came to embrace it. It became a personal “party favorite” to tell people I am meeting for the first time.

And this led to something incredibly important to my life.

One of my best friends from high school, Kirsten, loved the entire story. In fact, I would venture to say the only way we became as close as we did was because she enjoyed my performance so much. She used to make me play her the tape pretty much every time we hung out. Kirsten went away to college in DC. I went to school in Philly.

Years later, we’d start to hang out again. And we were going to a party together with a bunch of her friends from college. One was her old roommate and best friend, Ilana. I heard about Ilana for a while from Kir but I had never met her.

I finally did. And the first thing she asked me was if I was the guy who was on Carmen Sandiego.

I was. And, four years later, we would get married.

The ultimate theme to the story: sometimes cheaters do prosper.

Hide the children and say goodbye to your mother because there’s another MINISTRY OF SECRET JOKES show tonight at Fergie’s Pub (1214 Sansom St.) starting at 9PM. Included in the proceedings will be an epic Omniana battle between Champion Pat “Worm Man” Barker and Steve “It’s Ridiculous” Gerben, Hack! The Game Show, a bunch of stand-up comics and more. We recently uncovered the details of last month’s show for Phawker.com

And recently Comic Vs. Audience came across the beginning of a Ministry of Secret Jokes initiation ritual that we are bravely posting below. Like usual, don’t say you saw it here when you are asked.

Leader: Raise your left hand, and follow along silently, while moving your lips, like hillbillies do when they’re trying to read: I understand the penalty of divulging any of the secret jokes is having my throat cut across, my tongue torn out by its roots, and my body buried in the rough sands of the sea at low water mark, where the tide ebbs and flows twice in twenty-four hours, should I ever knowingly violate this my obligation. If you understand, say “I do.”

Crowd: I do.

Leader: I hele.

Crowd: We conceal.

Leader: What do you conceal?

Crowd: All the secret jokes, to which this token alludes.

Leader: You’re a great crowd.

Crowd: We should give ourselves a big hand, just for coming out tonight. Fuck firefighters, we are the real heroes.

(Using your thumb and pinkie, grasp the elbow of the person to your left with your right hand. Then poke them in the ribs with your left elbow. Imagine a world without instant coffee.)

This next two images appear to be from a “Kid’s Corner” recruitment section for young children that hides behind the guise of being “educational”.

Just off of South Street above a French restaurant last Sunday, an absurdist theater group performed over a dozen short monologues with titles such as “I’m Not A Wino: I’m A ‘Why-Yes’”, “I Can Beat The Price You’re Paying For Sperm” and “I Refuse To Let Some Beached Whale Ruin Our Family Outing”. The group was the Idiopathic Ridiculopathy Consortium and the show, “Raw Onion: America Speaks Out”, consisted of characters acting out columns from The Onion, America’s Finest News Source.

Often The Onion’s community voices columns revel in the raw and unadultered language with which the authors speak about what they want or feel. The pieces find humor in taking away the politeness and indirectness with which people act and speak. This is a device that can be seen elsewhere in comedy and is displayed well in pieces such as “Act Now To Take Advantage of My Lowered Standards” and “Hi, I Just Happened To Be In The Neighborhood And Horny”. The language is so coarse and direct that it often reaches into absurdism, like in Kurt Beckman’s (played by RJ White) “I Fucked My Way Into This Mess, And I’ll Fuck My Way Out”, which is exactly what the Consortium was hoping for.

Looking back on the original columns now, I can see that these performances definitely brought out an additional level of humor that can’t be experienced on the page. Tony Lawton’s performance as a pompous and theatrical John Kluivert in “My Lady Has a Beautiful Anus” was dead-on and Liam Castellan’s choice to play Bill Brodhagen [right] in “You Will Suffer Humiliation When The Sports Team From My Area Defeats The Sports Team From Your Area” as a early 20th century spectator really brought out the essence of the premise. Jane Moore, an older actress, played a sweet and ultimately innocent Eugenia Korner in “I’m Sorry Jesus” and Billy Rayhill was a frustrated and irate door-to-door salesman in “Why Can’t I Sell Any Of These Fucking Bibles?”. Another highlight was Sonja Robson’s portrayal of Trudy Schiff, a housewife that gradually spirals into madness and obsession in “I’ve Got A New Soup That Will Knock Campbell’s On Its Ass”.

The two shows were a fundraiser for the IRC, a two-year old non-profit group that will put on “A Streetcar Named Durang: Two Burlesques and a Nightmare”, a parody of the famous playwrights Tennessee Williams and Sam Shepard, during the upcoming Fringe Festival. The Onion was very open to the Consortium’s use of their material with the caveat that nothing could be changed. “I was prepared to pay the rights for the material,” said artistic director Tina Brock, “but they were so generous, they said ‘no, just do it’, so we did.”

The show was a change of pace for the Consortium, which usually produces absurdist plays by the likes of Samuel Beckett, Christopher Durang, Edward Albee, and Eugene Ionesco that are usually “pretty funny on some level but also very tragic, so it’s dual sides of the same coin.” Brock was concerned that the f-bombs and vulgarity of the monologues may turn off the group’s followers. “Sex doesn’t even come up in those [other] plays, it’s all metaphysical and existential quandaries,” but judging from the laughter in the crowd, it seemed like everyone got it.

Comic Vs. Audience is very proud to present a piece by the very funny New York City comedian Todd Mackenberg. Although this is in no way related to Philadelphia, it gives us a unique take on life as a comedian in the Big Apple. Enjoy!

I moved to New York a few years ago to do comedy and so far it’s been great. There’s a great scene with a lot of funny and encouraging people and there’s never a shortage of shows. And who knows, there’s a chance that industry will be at any show! Yep, I’ve got to say, living here is pretty good. Except for one problem…

Ladies and Gentleman, my apartment is very small.

My apartment is so small that I can’t order an extra large pizza because it’s just too big. Hey, at least it keeps me in shape, right?

My apartment is so small that I’ve got a pet…termite. His name is “Biggie Smalls” because he represents Brooklyn well.

My apartment is so small that it sometimes affects my personal life. First off, let’s talk about the ladies. I bring a lot of ladies back to my place (they love my sense of humor), but we always have to do it doggie-style, which I honestly hate. But unfortunately, because my apartment is so small, it’s the only position that is remotely possible. And even then my ass gets cut up from rubbing against the wall.

And forget about having people over for a party. Rule #1: if you’re over 200 pounds, you won’t be able to fit in my apartment. Sorry, there just isn’t enough room for that sort of girth. Sadly, D&D marathons never seem to happen at my place.

I didn’t always live this way. I’m originally from Omaha, Nebraska and the backyard where I grew up seemed to go on for miles and miles. You could lay amongst the corn fields all night, admiring the stars. During the summer, a few friends and I would grab our marshmallows, chocolate and other s’mores ingredients and laugh the night away. I sometimes think that I developed my unique sense of humor on those nights with Stan, Jimmy Jr. and Pappy. We would just laugh our asses off in that tent.

Man, I wish I lived in a tent now.

My apartment is so small that I can’t watch The Godfather on TV. The breadth of that trilogy is just too large for my apartment.

It can be depressing sometimes to tell you the truth. It can lead me to drink, but I can never get drunk off of the tiny schnapps bottles I keep in my tiny cooler.

Seriously folks…

Let me break it down for you so that you can really understand how small my apartment is. If I were to draw the layout of my apartment on a napkin, it would be at 1:1 scale. That’s how small my apartment is.

The tile in my bathroom is made up of pennies. Total coat: $.50.

Did I mention that my apartment is really small? No seriously, anyone got a sublet?

Todd will be performing at the Cafe Au Go Go (152 Bleecker St.) this evening at 9PM.

Live shows dominate this week’s roundup of Philadelphia comedy news as new shows are growing out like weeds.

The Idiopathic Ridiculopathy Consortium presents “Raw Onion: America Speaks Out” on May 25th at L’Étage Cabaret (624 S 6th St, above Beau Monde), 6 & 9PM showings, $20. The show brings the community voices the Opinion column of The Onion, America’s Finest News Source, to life with 16 Philadelphia actors. [Thanks Brian]

There’s a new open mic on Mondays at the Urban Saloon (2120 Fairmount Ave.). Sign-up is from 6:30 – 7:30 and the show starts at 8:30. Early reports are that it is a good time.

On June 16th, Die, Actor, Die will present the 2nd Annual Dirtiest Sketch in Philadelphia at The Khyber (56 S. 2nd St.). Reigning champs Secret Pants are set to perform along with Meg and Rob, The Sixth Borough, John Kensil, Doogie Horner and probably more.

South Philly’s Ray’s Happy Birthday Bar (an establishment we have frequented and can vouch for) is getting into the comedy game with a show by Jimmy Viola and friends with Doogie Horner and Nolan Gilbride on May 24th at 9:30. 1200 E. Passyunk Ave.

Stand-up Katie Kohler was recently featured in the Times Herald and she’s got a show with Eric Todd, Chris Sybil, John Kensil, and Steve Gerben on Friday, June 13th at the Sly Fox Brewery in Royersford.

Old City clothing store Deep Sleep (54 N. 3rd St.) are putting on a comedy show with Jared Moskowitz, Danny Ozark, Jonathan Graham, Brendan Kennedy and more on June 5th, 7PM. Three dollars gets you in for the laughs and supposedly free Red Bull and vodka.

And in a rare moment, Philadelphia heroes Paul F. Tompkins and Philly Boy Roy were in the WFMU studios during The Best Show on WFMU a few weeks ago. The encounter almost cost PFT his Hollywood career as Philly Boy Roy’s Roxborough accent brought out the Philly in Paul. The comic was able to ultimately avoid sounding like a local again though, and the world was returned to normal.

By the way, we re-upped our shows, comedians and other links to the right, so get on that. In an effort to be your definitive source for comedy in the 215, send us an email at comicvsaudience AT gmail DOT com if there’s anything we’ve missed.

Summer time is coming up and that means, for some, awesome summer jobs. This year Philadelphia comedian Aaron Hertzog has made it easy for you and clipped out some ads.

More after the jump…

At last month’s Ministry of Secret Jokes show at Fergie’s, Pat “Worm Man” Barker and Kent “Alabama Slamma” Haines were pitted in a vicious Omniana battle. Omniana is thrilling game of wits and imagination and when it was played live at MoSJ, the winner was decided by the audience. From the official Omniana website:

On each Character Card there is a brief description of an original character detailing his special abilities, weaknesses and history. Players take turns sending one of their characters into an opponent’s pre-selected character. One or more of the remaining players will judge each battle. Using only the information on their cards, both of the battling players must argue how and why his character would win a duel. The judge(s) decides the victor and awards him either a treasure or an advantage card. The player with the most treasure at the end of the game wins.

Barker was the defending champion and his title was on the line. Also of note was Barker publicly calling out stand-up comic Steve Gerben, who was originally scheduled to battle Barker but did not show. We’ll keep you up-to-date on as this new feud rages on.

Tonight you’ve got plans: DIE ACTOR DIE (“It’s a comedy show!”) is at The Khyber (56 S. 2nd Street) with an interesting lineup. Kent Haines and Doogie Horner will be there with D.A.D. first-timers Anton Shuford, Jared Moskowitz, and musician Janice Rowland. It’s all hosted by Don Montrey and starts at 8PM, 5

RELATED:
Doogie takes Literary Adventures and hosts The Ministry of Secret Jokes.
Kent’s been filmed by us a few times.
Anton was the subject of our very first video in the very first post of this site (ugh, we cringe at the writing now).