Ron White

The conversation opens with talk about recent opening acts and then turns to crowd work. One participant says plainly that it is "not my thing" but grants that it is "a tough skill". That participant also says opening acts are not allowed to do it, because it leads them to think they can talk to the headliner too.

The objection comes from how the speaker used crowd work early on, as a way to fill time. They describe having 41 minutes of material for a 45-minute slot and needing to talk to the audience for four minutes to close the set. Once there were enough jokes, they say, "I just do the fucking jokes." They add that they do not knock comics who rely on it.

The discussion then names comics described as very good at crowd work. Rick Ingram is said to blend crowd work with stock material he has built up by doing it so often. Big Jay is praised for timing: he knows when to pause after someone says something ridiculous, and he has "great storytelling."

He's really good at it because he knows how to hold a moment.

Much of the first stretch is about Kill Tony. The participants try to recall a young comic from Alabama who recently got a golden ticket, works at the club and is described as "hilarious." One speaker says stand-up rarely makes them laugh out loud anymore, but this comic did, and credits his "Great writing."

There is a small factual correction during the exchange. One participant is surprised that the crowd already knew a comic who had supposedly appeared only once. The other explains that he had been on before and bombed. Since then he had worked at the club, lived in Austin and built up his act. He is said to have spoken openly about freezing the first time and needing to "get my shit together."

That comic followed another performer who also won a golden ticket, which made for two in a row. After some searching, the other performer is identified as Steve Francois, who bills himself as "the comedy seller," spelled "S-E-L-L-E-R unlike the club." The first act reportedly did so well that the next slot looked very hard, yet the second comic also did well. One participant notes that when the comic later opened for them, a couple of jokes did not land, because "it wasn't like playing a kill-tony crowd."

Dedrick Flynn is offered as another example. He is described as having been "stuck in Atlanta" and unable to make progress until he moved and got on the show. The point the participants draw from this has a condition attached: the show is a great opportunity if a comic is ready, and "if you're not it's just another passing moment."

The participants make large claims about the show's place in comedy, calling it "the greatest thing for comedians in the history of comedy" as a platform. The case they describe is a comic who has spent "seven, eight, nine, 10 years" on the road, has a solid half hour or hour, and then has "one banger minute on Kill Tony." Ari Matty and William Montgomery are given as examples of comics whose crowd reactions changed. One anecdote has the Black Keys asking for William Montgomery to come to the club.

One participant admits they did not foresee the show's growth when they first saw it in L.A.: "I did not have the vision that Tony has." Someone recalls telling Tony about four or five years in not to stop, predicting it would become one of the biggest shows in comedy and arguing that his hosting style could not be copied.

His improvisational ability gets particular praise, with the claim that "People hate on that guy. You have no idea how talented he is." The participants cite the show selling out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row (transcribed as "Madison Square Card") and Cam Patterson appearing on SNL as signs of its reach. They call it a "positive karma show" because the comics who leave it go on to succeed.

The participants compare the show to an older industry pattern. When a friend used to get cast on a sitcom, other comics took it as proof they might make it too. They see Kill Tony as "the new version of that," except that it leads to careers in stand-up itself.

One speaker says stand-up is "all I've ever done" and calls it a strange career with nothing else to fall back on. The discussion describes stand-up as a field of psychologically fragile people who go through ups and downs while trying to sell tickets and stay relevant. On this view, something has to act as a catalyst.

The speaker's catalyst was the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, which they say people no longer remember but which was once a big deal. They credit Foxworthy, described as "the only real star of that show when it started," for being willing to share a stage. The other participant wonders why no one has copied the format by touring four comics of that level together. The answer given is that the Kill Tony comics are "a little bit like that."

The speaker stresses that this break came after 14 years of stand-up, 11 of them headlining comedy clubs. The conclusion drawn is that preparation decides whether exposure helps. The flip side is put bluntly: someone who bombs on Kill Tony goes back to being an Uber Eats driver and has to work out what to do with their life.

there's no substitute for the time in

The participants describe early fame without strong material as the worst outcome. Winning a contest and suddenly selling tickets without "the show to back it up with" is called "just a death spiral." They list other pressures that can sink a developing comic: drinking, cocaine, and tax debt, with "the IRS, $50,000" as the example. They also call it "a fucking glorious thing to see" when such comics break through and start making a living.

A memory of the Comedy Store parking lot shows how unequal comedy incomes are: "There was no medium cars out there." Comics were either broke or had money, and those with money had new cars. One participant recalls trying to get Marc Maron (transcribed "Mark Marinette") and Ari to buy nice cars. That participant held up an M3 as a sensible choice and praised its handling and carbon ceramic brakes. The other comic is described as unable to be "that ostentatious" even when he had money.

The two describe opposite money habits. One says they first assumed success would end, "which it does normally," so they worked as hard as possible to earn before it all came "tumbling fucking down," and it never did. They also mention trying to quit for a while and returning because it was too much fun.

The other describes spending every penny for years and saving nothing, even while on television. Their reasoning was that they had been broke and had a car repossessed before, so they could cope with being broke again, but while they had money they would live as if they did not.

Earlier in the conversation, one participant mentions a trip of about "20, 21 days" to Lake Como, Verona and Zermatt, during which it was 107 degrees in Texas. This leads to a discussion of rest. One side argues that the rest is earned by constant touring, writing and club sets, and that relaxing works when "The work's already been done."

There is a caveat: doing nothing "is not good on its own." The discussion cites Jordan Peterson as having questioned the idea of a retirement spent drinking margaritas on a beach, asking how long anyone can do that before becoming depressed or bored, even on a yacht. The other side, describing themselves as almost 70 years old, says they get to do whatever they want. This is accepted, with the qualifier that "20 days is good."

The praise for Switzerland centers on infrastructure. The speaker contrasts it with the United States, saying "we're 40 trillion in debt" and have no high-speed train to anywhere. They describe reaching mountaintops at 70 by train, through tunnels and by gondola, and say one can cross into Italy by gondola for dinner and come back. The figure and these travel details are stated in the conversation and not checked against anything.

The complaint was pay toilets. They required a Swiss coin worth about a dollar and would not take euros or American money. The speaker eventually learned from another traveler that a credit card works. The speaker jokingly calls the setup "discrimination," and the other participant jokes that it keeps out "the riffraff."

While discussing Swiss neutrality and banking, one participant brings up a trip to France about a year earlier, when they were "kicked off" a Viking river cruise. They say they brought weed and gummies, planning to "see what I can get away with."

In their telling, the hotel manager, whom they describe as "the nicest guy ever," said smoking was not allowed in the room but was allowed on the deck. They admit they had not been careful about keeping the door shut. The next day the captain confronted them loudly in a hallway in front of others. He accused them of smoking in the bathroom and getting smoke into the ventilation system, and called them a liar. The speaker disputes this and says they were smoking where they had been told to. They also say the captain ended by offering to "look the other way" if they smoked on the top deck, and they object to how the captain started the conversation.

The speaker partly accepts blame: "I was in the wrong. You know, it's probably illegal." When asked how illegal, they say not very, since a person can get a card and buy it. The other participant accepts that smoking cannabis in public is unpleasant for non-smokers and families and that the smell is strong. They still call the laws against cannabis "just fucking stupid."

The talk turns to cigars when one participant brings out cigars and declines to say where they came from, calling that "a felony, too." The two disagree about whether Cuban cigars are legal to own in the U.S. One believes a limited amount is now allowed. The other doubts it, and they look it up.

The lookup, read aloud, says the opposite of the first belief. Cuban cigars cannot be bought in U.S. shops. Smoking them abroad is generally allowed where local law permits, but they cannot be brought back. A limited personal-use exemption existed until a period ending in September 2020 and was then removed. Current CBP guidance, as read, says people may acquire Cuban goods abroad in certain circumstances but "may not import Cuban origin, tobacco," products. There is some confusion in the exchange: a "No" about online ordering is followed by "Yeah, you can." The participants then joke that their cigars must be Swiss because they were bought in Switzerland.

One participant recalls getting cigars from a contact in England. The cigars arrived without bands, and the bands came separately in an envelope. They also warn that "the most counterfeited thing in the world is Cohiba cigars."