Mae Martin and Friends - A Benefit for Food on Foot
There is a particular generosity in a comic who will do the harder version of the job for free. Martin builds sets out of the material most people would rather keep in a drawer — anxiety, addiction, the exhausting comedy of being misread — and does it so lightly you forget you are being told something true until a couple of hours later. The proceeds here go to Food on Foot, the Los Angeles nonprofit that works to move people off the street and into jobs and housing, which quietly changes the room: an audience that turned up partly on purpose laughs differently than one that turned up only to be entertained. The bill is unannounced, as it always is at this address, and the house rule is no phones, so the guests who drop in can try things that are nowhere near finished. Under three hundred seats, a piano nobody can resist, and a good chance the evening ends somewhere the lineup card never suggested. Wednesday, December 9. Forty dollars, and the money goes to Food on Foot.
There is a particular generosity in a comic who will do the harder version of the job for free. Martin builds sets out of the material most people would rather keep in a drawer — anxiety, addiction, the exhausting comedy of being misread — and does it so lightly you forget you are being told something true until a couple of hours later. The proceeds here go to Food on Foot, the Los Angeles nonprofit that works to move people off the street and into jobs and housing, which quietly changes the room: an audience that turned up partly on purpose laughs differently than one that turned up only to be entertained. The bill is unannounced, as it always is at this address, and the house rule is no phones, so the guests who drop in can try things that are nowhere near finished. Under three hundred seats, a piano nobody can resist, and a good chance the evening ends somewhere the lineup card never suggested. Wednesday, December 9. Forty dollars, and the money goes to Food on Foot.
There is a particular generosity in a comic who will do the harder version of the job for free. Martin builds sets out of the material most people would rather keep in a drawer — anxiety, addiction, the exhausting comedy of being misread — and does it so lightly you forget you are being told something true until a couple of hours later. The proceeds here go to Food on Foot, the Los Angeles nonprofit that works to move people off the street and into jobs and housing, which quietly changes the room: an audience that turned up partly on purpose laughs differently than one that turned up only to be entertained. The bill is unannounced, as it always is at this address, and the house rule is no phones, so the guests who drop in can try things that are nowhere near finished. Under three hundred seats, a piano nobody can resist, and a good chance the evening ends somewhere the lineup card never suggested. Wednesday, December 9. Forty dollars, and the money goes to Food on Foot.