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Big business idea into sign up for your $1 per month trial@shopify.com SpecialOff now here's the show. Hello folks, this is Risk, the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to share. I'm Kevin Allison, and if you know John La Sala at all who's directing this episode, it won't surprise you that this is Genesis behind me. Now. This song used to quake from my two older brother's bedroom in the mid-70s. I was the bedroom right next door. And I'll tell you, you could hear this music along with Close to the Edge by Yes or Hoedown by ELP just reverberating through the entire house. Coming through their doors, my brothers were 100%, 150% from the dazed and confused generation. They had Cerwin Vega speakers the size of a fifth grader. They had the most righteous Harman Kardon tube receiver. They were so proud of how many tubes were lighting up in the back of that thing. And of course, a Technics turntable and the plastic tube film canisters with the film taken out and replaced by stinky little green stuff and seeds and twigs. When I was nine years old, there came a day when I absolutely could not abide anymore by the rule that I could not enter that room and could absolutely never touch that equipment or those records. I had heard a song coming through their door called Obladi Oblada. And I just had to hear that song again. I snuck into their room and I oh so carefully figured out how to get that machine humming. And the next day I dared it again and I pulled out a record called the Freewheeling Bob Dylan. I put the needle down, down on a track called Bob Dylan's Dream. That's what we now call a deep cut. Now, I knew next to nothing about this guy singing, and he didn't sound anything like Elp or Genesis. The singing was not even all that pretty. But I had some sort of out of body experience listening to that song on that astounding hi fi system. This little song was telling a story, a story about love for humanity, for the poor. Before he came to New York to start his career when he was 19, supposedly, Dylan spent a while hitchhiking on trains like his hero Woody Guthrie had done, befriending the migrant workers who would sneak into these empty boxcars just like he did. And this song was a reminiscence of how real and admirable he found those fellas to be and how he missed the former simplicity of his life. And this song, this story, was coming directly from this peculiar sounding person's heart. In the teaching of storytelling, you'll often hear people say, look for the five seconds. Look for the five seconds in which, however subtly, however quietly, however almost imperceptibly, sometimes something changes. Because the truth is, we can so easily miss or just forget what really mattered. But on that day, I know the moment of change was not five seconds. It was five minutes. Because that's what Spotify tells me. The length of the song Bob Dylan's dream is, and Genesis and, yes, and the Beatles and Emerson, Lake and Palmer and me. We are all show people, which is what we're calling this week's episode 3 Stories around the Business of Show. Since I first heard that song on that astounding stage stereo system, the right wing in this country has very successfully made it harder and harder and harder and harder and harder for creative people to do what we do. And people walk around, younger people especially, thinking, oh, this is just the way it is. This is the way the world works. But no, it didn't have to be this way. It doesn't have to be this way. And now I wish I could sit simply in that room again. But we have our hearts, we have our minds, we have our stories, and we can be a part of a movement for change. In a little bit, we're gonna hear from Robin Beatty and Kelly Dunham, but we're gonna kick things off with a Broadway tale from Jason Burke that's been sitting in our archives since May of 2015. Why? Largely because we weren't so good at, you know, labeling files back then. So at long last, here's Jason Burke with a story we call the Lion King. That's lion, like, not telling the truth. You get it. You totally get it.

Jason Burke (11:19)

Thank you all so much. How's everybody doing tonight? All right. I'm so thrilled to be here at Risk. When Kevin and Beowulf told me that the theme of the show was lies, I thought, well, you know, this is going to be absolutely in my wheelhouse because I am the most full of shit person that I know. Like, absolutely, hands down to all of you. It's gonna seem like I lie a whole lot, and I do. But here's the thing. Like, I don't ever lie to make myself seem better than I am. Right? That's the difference. Right? I don't Ever stretch the truth to try and impress you? Except my teeth, like, these are porcelain veneers. Definitely a lie to make myself look better than I really am. But for the most part, right? Like, I do it for a different reason. The fact is, I have this overwhelming need to make sure that everybody likes me, right? It's crushing. Do you understand? Like, I have this hypersensitivity to the sadness of all my fellow men, you know, Like, I cringe at sadness and anger and confrontation or, God forbid, fucking disappointment, you know, like, it makes me sick. And so I lie a lot to get through it. So when I was thinking about this show, I thought, well, there's two basic kind of lies that I usually tell, right? The first one is a lie to make somebody feel shameful about their bad behavior. Am I the only one here? Yeah, it's like to call out attention to the fact that they're making the world a little bit more difficult for all of us, you know, I call it a vigilante lie. You know, I'm taking the justice into my own hands through bullshit. That's kind of the way that I think about it. An example would be like, when I lived in New York City, I lived on the second floor of this building, and it was a 10 story building and it had an elevator in it. And I came back from a day that had just beaten the shit out of me in the way that only New York City can do, right? I had been crammed into too little of a space with too many people for too long, and there was like pigeon shit on me, you know? And so I just decided, I'm not taking the stairs today. I'm gonna take the elevator. Just today I'm just gonna take the elevator. So I go over and I'm gonna take it up one flight. And I go over and I get on the elevator, right? And I hit 2. And about that time, this beautiful young lady, she comes flying into the lobby, right? She's dressed in this really sharp business suit, you know, and she's got a briefcase and papers are flying everywhere and her hair's a mess. She's obviously very, very late to something and she left something very, very important upstairs, right? And so she gets onto the elevator, right? And the doors close and we go up one level and we stop. And she looks at me and I swear to God, she says, you're a lazy piece of shit, you know? Right? But here's the thing. This is where the vigilante part came in, right? She doesn't know what I've done. She doesn't know what kind of day or what kind of person I am. She has no idea. So this is where I take it upon myself. I look her dead in the eye and I say, I hope that one day you might appreciate the sacrifices some people made for your freedom. And I proceed to stage this limp that is fucking Oscar worthy, y' all. Like, I'm just, like, kind of doing one of these things all around. And this isn't like I twisted my ankle playing kickball. Limp. No, no, no, no, no. This is like 40 clicks outside of Fallujah. Roadside bomb, motherfucker. Right? And I'm not proud of that, but I support the troops, you understand? The second kind of lie I tell is probably the one that we're all most familiar with. It's those lies to make sure that I don't hurt anybody else. We all know them, right? It's like the. Hey, I'm so sorry I can't make it to your birthday party today. My boss is keeping me at work, like. Bullshit, you left a voice. Now my phone's been active. Bullshit. You know what I mean? Okay, so I graduated from Auburn University with a degree in theater in. Auburn's in Alabama, so it would be more appropriate to say I got my degree in theater, right? But I got the paper and I took it up to New York City to set that fucking town on fire, you know? And when I get there, the first job that I get is working as an usher at the Nederlander Theater. Mm. Okay. Nederlander Theater is where the show Rent played. Y' all know the show Rent? You know the one song. You know the song, right? And so I'm an usher there. Now, here's the thing about Broadway that a lot of people don't know. Everybody except for the actors are real, real tough. Hell's Kitchen, Vinnie Bag of donuts, how you doing over there? Kind of people, right? And this is my first family in New York City, right? These people took me in and gave me an opportunity, and I'll never, ever be able to repay them for that. You know, if I was short on rent or lost my wallet or whatever, I could call these Vinnies, right? And they would take care of me, you know? And it was great, but I wasn't like them. Their version of Broadway was from the entrance of the theater on 41st street, through the lobby right to the backstage door. I belonged on the other side of it. That's where I was supposed to be. But a job's a job, right? And plus, I Get to, you know, hang out. I'm in a Broadway theater. I'm getting this diversity that I absolutely craved in Alabama, right? I'm getting it. And I'm in a show that has gay people in it, for God's sakes, you know? And then, like, every day, I get to exchange pleasantries with these actors, right? As they sashay into the lobby and then back behind that fucking sacred backstage door, right? But this was my gig for a while. And then one day, I was putting the barricades up so that the actors, after the show, could go and sign autographs for all the fans, you know? And I would sit there and wait until the fans left and the actors left, and then I would drag the barricades back in, right? And one day, when I'm dragging the barricades back in, this actor, Chris is what we'll call him, he approaches me and he comes up, he says, hey, Vinny, backstage, he tells me, you're an actor. I said, yeah, I'm an actor. He said, well, listen, me and the cast, we're all going downtown tonight for some fundraiser, if you want to go. It's gonna be a lot of fun. Gonna try and pick up some ladies, could use a wingman. I was like, aha. Yes. Yeah, this is it. You know what I mean? This is it. This is. This is it. The spaceship has come back to pick up E.T.

Kelly Dunham (17:45)

I phoned home, motherfuckers, right?

Jason Burke (17:48)

And so I finally got my chance, and I'm gonna be picking up women with the guy who plays Angel. Didn't matter. Minor detail. I go home, and I put on the only black clothes that I own, you know, because that's what you wear in New York, you know? And I take a cab downtown, and I meet up with all of them. And y' all, we just have a fucking blast. We have such an awesome time. And I'm out of the Irish pubs with all the Vinnies and all that. I'm not with them anymore. I'm where I'm supposed to be, and in the lights and big people with velvet ropes, and, yes, you can come in, and you can come in, and you can't, but you can come in, and I got to go in. And the music was just that perfect, kind of fucking terrible. And everybody wants to be a part of our little group. And the actors, they're all loving me and they're embracing me and they're respecting me. We just have a great time. And then Chris says to me, says, let's go back to my place, man. Get a couple of beers. I said, yeah. We get in the cab all the way through to the West Village, and I'm in this apartment, and it's got exposed brick in it, and it's like the set of Friends, you know? I just. Like, that's the clapping thing from Friends. And we're talking acting, we're talking shop. And he's giving me advice on auditioning, right? For. This Broadway star is giving me advice on how to audition straight from the horse's mouth. He said, every time you go in there and you look at the script when you're auditioning, find one thing that's gonna make him laugh. Perfect, right? So I go to get a couple of beers at the fridge, and I turn around, and he's standing right there, and he leans in and he kisses me. He kisses me, y' all. And, like, I'm not. I've never kissed my man before. But I'm not mad. I'm not upset. I'm not ashamed. I'm not embarrassed. I'm even, like, a little bit curious maybe, you know, because there's this old man back in Alabama. But he said to me one time, he said, you know, I ain't never gonna touch another man's penis. No. My God, I'm 78 years old, and I hate to touch one like it. And hate that I wasted all them years. So I'm not gonna let that fate happen to me. You understand? That's not my jam. So I'm trying to. But, y' all, here's the thing. Here's the thing, y' all. The stubble on his beard, man, in that instant, I knew that this was a man and that I wasn't into this. I had this moment of clarity. It was like thousands of little penises poking me in the. And even if he had been clean shaven, you know, Ha. I don't know what would have happened if he had been clean shaven, but he wasn't. E. Wags means shaving. But it's not working. You understand? It's just not working. Now, this is where I'm full of shit. What I should have said is, hey, man, I had a great time tonight. This isn't really my thing. I'm gonna. I'm gonna go. We'll do it again, you know, or whatever. I go to sit on the couch to watch a movie. I watched a movie. Like, we all know what that means. You watching a movie. God damn. And I know why I did it. God, this sounds weird. I just didn't want to disappoint him. This sounds weird. I'm saying this out loud. I lied about my sexuality to keep from hurting this dude's feelings. And I was so infatuated with him and with Broadway and with the show and with New York City and with the energy of it all. And I had it all presented to me in this wonderful, wonderful little package for just one night. But it was just wrapped in the wrong paper. So, you know, after a little while, he realizes nothing's gonna happen, you know, I just can't do it, you know? And he walks me down to the cab. He was really cool about it. And getting in the cab and he's about to close the door, he says, peyton, don't forget. Always do one thing to make him laugh. I often wondered, was he talking about my limp dick? So I found my own way after that. You know, I lost a lot of that naivete over the years. And a couple of years later, I was telling one of the Vinnie Baggett donuts about the story. I got all drunk. I was like, yeah, man, this happened. He goes, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. That's fucking gay. I was like, yeah, no, it didn't work. I don't care, man. It's gay. It didn't work, though. Like. I know, I know. Not gay. I know. Not gay. You don't. You don't know. Not gay. I said, all right, I don't know about that. But I'll tell you this, Vinny, until you've hurt a gay man's feelings with your limp dick, don't be so sure about who you are. Cause you might just be lying to yourself. Thank you all very.

Kelly Dunham (23:04)

So it was one of those really hot August mornings down by the Jersey Shore where I grew up. And my brother Johnny and I are getting on the train because we're going to New York City. Elberon to New York City is about an hour and 15 minutes. And it's my first train ride. And I have no idea what to expect. So I keep saying to Johnny, Johnny, what's going to happen next? Where are we meeting Uncle Bobby? What are we going to do? Do you know where we're going to eat? Are we really going to a show? And I just went on and on like that. My brother finally picked up his Mad magazine and dumped me on the head and said, shut up, I'm reading. And that was that for the rest of the trip. But I amused myself by. Well, first I looked. Actually, the ceiling looked sort of like that. That old North Shore Jersey train. And it is kind of old and dirty. And then I looked out the windows. They were a little dirty, too. And then I looked at the towns going by and. And that was interesting until we got to Elizabeth, New Jersey, which was really disgusting and smelly because Standard Oil had all of those, you know, refineries, like, set up in a row. Smelly stuff coming out of it. You had to hold your breath. But I loved every minute of it. And finally, when I couldn't think of anything else to do, I just put my head against that dirty window and I listened to the train. Clackity clackity, clackity, clackity, clackity clackity. And I started singing to myself. I'm going to the theater. I'm going to the theater. I'm going to the theater. So I'm nine years old. I've never been to the theater. The only theater I know is at the JCC Jewish Community center in Long Branch, where my mom and her father friends get up a bunch of shows they set up. It's like really old and wooden. It's got like a stage at one end, at the other end it's got all the gym equipment and chairs are set in rows, and that's really fun. But this would be a real theater and it would be real actors and there'd be a real curtain and I can't wait. You see, my Uncle Bobby is everybody's favorite relative. He loves kids and he doesn't have any of his own. He didn't even get married. We used to wonder if he was gay or just afraid of people. But he loved kids and he would do anything for us. He'd come and visit us. We'd go to the Asbury Boardwalk. We could spend all our time on the rides we wanted. He'd buy us all the food we wanted as long as we didn't tell my mother what we'd ate and we didn't throw up when we got there. He bought us presents. He bought all the things that she wouldn't buy us, which was a lot of things, because my mother didn't believe in dolls and she didn't believe in clothes. And my mother was very strange. She was an old hippie before there were hippies. Uncle Bobby would buy us anything we wanted. So when you're nine years old in Uncle Bobby's world, you get to go to the theater with him and all your older siblings. You get to see a Broadway show, you get to eat out, and then you get to go home and talk about it. I was nine now, so this was my very first time. So I'm really excited when we get out. When the train comes into Penn Station, I say to my brother, so what do we do now? And he pushes me, of course, because he's not going to use words. And he straightens his tie and I straightened my carefully ironed and starched beautiful dress that I had picked out especially for this trip with my little black shoes. And I come, I go to the edge of the train and we jump off when it's time to jump off. Because when you're little, it was a really big jump because the steps only go so far. And there was Uncle Bobby and he took me in his arms and he goes, are you excited? And I couldn't say anything. I just jumped in his arms, up and down and up and down. So he kind of hustles us through Penn Station. He puts out his hand to get a cab. I have no idea what the hell he's doing because I come from New Jersey. We don't have cabs. He puts out his hand and this yellow cab stops and we get in and he says, we're going to Rivington Street. Where the hell is Rivington Street? I didn't care. And that's what we did. We drove to Rivington street. And when we got out, we walked into a little dusty Chinese restaurant. It looked like it had been there since the deluge. It looked old. And when we walked in, everybody knew Uncle Bobby. And he goes, well, this is my nephew Jonathan, and this is my niece, Robin. It's her ninth birthday and everyone sang Happy Birthday even before we ate. We had a great meal and I got my fortune cookie and I opened it up and it said, great things will come your way. Didn't know what that meant. I had no idea what great things were going to come my way because I was just a 9 year old kid with all the dreams that I had. But Bobby says, okay, we walk down Rivington street, we walk up Second Avenue until we get to the Orpheum Theater. Now, mind you, that is not a Broadway theater, okay? But it is a fine theater nonetheless. Bobby still hasn't told us what show we're going to see, but I do know that he only goes to shows that make him laugh. He would say, why waste my money and my time, Robin? You know, there's enough suffering in the world. I want to laugh and you should, too. We always laugh with Uncle Bobby. Well, he pushes us through the doors and the ushers open up. Well, basically, it's the sanctuary. It's velvet everywhere, red velvet and black velvet. And we go to seats where like right on the aisle. Because Bobby was pretty plump and he always liked to sit on the aisle in case he had to get out real fast. And me, Johnny and Bobby sit there. The play we're going to is Little Mary Sunshine. You know it? Oh, my God. No one's ever heard of it. You've got to hand it to Little Mary Sunshine. I could go on. I know all of the songs. Some of them are very racist, but, you know, this was the 60s, so what are you going to say? But I loved. I loved everything that was happening around. And then all of a sudden, music from one piano on one side of the stage and music from the other piano on the other side of the stage. The lights go down, the curtain opens, the lights come up. And I spend an hour and a half, two hours, I don't know, immersed in a world I didn't even know existed. I could feel everything. I could sing every song I knew. I was dancing. I was part of everything that was going on in the stage. Even if I didn't understand it. Something shifted that day for me. I didn't know magic existed. Well, after it was over, I didn't want to go. And I say, bobby, Bobby, do we have to go? He said, yeah. But then he had an idea. He walked on the stage. Where my uncle Bobby got to do this, I don't know. He talked to a stagehand in. The stagehand went backstage. Then Bobby, you know, does this. Come on, kids, come on, me and Johnny get up. And all of a sudden, the curtains part. And out in her full regalia costume, full heavy duty pancake makeup, walks Eileen Brennan, the star of the show. All of a sudden, I'm terrified and I'm going up for. Well, I didn't know how to say fuck, but if I knew fuck, I would go, oh, fuck. And I just hid. And Bobby pushed me. He had this gift, pushed me in front of him. And he talked to Eileen. She is Eileen to me forevermore. And this woman bowed down her head, because that's what it felt like. And she took my hand and she talked to me. And I don't remember what she said, but I shifted again inside. And when she walked away, I felt like I had been in heaven for just one moment. And back on the train, I left my brother. He could read his silly magazine. I didn't even want to talk to him. I just wanted to sing. I'm going to the theater. I'm going to the theater. And this time I knew it. Thank you.

Jason Burke (32:55)

You've got to hand it to little Mary Sunshine. Little Mary is the sunshine of the sun. You got your hand it to little Mary Sunshine. Little Mary has a smile for everyone. She may be a bit old fashioned but then when you unlock your heart supply. You've got to hand it to little Mary Sunshine for she's very merry all the time. We'll be right back.

Kevin Allison (33:28)

This episode is brought to you by Stay Farm. Knowing you could be saving money for the things you really want is a great feeling. Talk to a State Farm agent today to learn how you can choose to bundle and save with a personal price plan. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. Prices are based on rating plans that vary by state. Coverage options are selected by the customer. Availability, amount of discounts and savings and eligibility vary by state.

Jason Burke (33:54)

I'm Emma Grade and I've spent the last 20 years building, running and investing in some incredible businesses. The more success I've had, the more people started coming to me with questions. How do you start a business? How do you raise money? How do I bounce back from failure? On my new podcast, Aspire with Emma Greed, I'll be answering these questions and more through weekly conversations with the smartest minds out there. Listen to and follow Aspire with Emma Greed an Odyssey podcast available now.

Kelly Dunham (34:21)

Wherever you get your podcasts.

Jason Burke (34:25)

This episode.

Kevin Allison (34:26)

Is brought to you by Amazon Prime. From streaming to shopping, prime helps you get more out of your passions.

Robin Beatty (34:33)

So whether you're a fan of true.

Kevin Allison (34:34)

Crime or prefer a nail biting novel from time to time, with services like Prime Video, Amazon Music and fast free delivery, prime makes it easy to get more out of whatever you're into or getting into. Visit Amazon.comprime to learn more.

Jason Burke (34:52)

Pro Baller Lonzo Ball for Buzzballs Ready to go cocktails take 12 buzzballs just dropped their biggest blue balls. Script says Biggie's Blue balls Lonzo take 13 blue balls just dropped their biggest buz balls. Let's try a vocal exercise. Buzz Balls Biggies Blue Balls Buzz Balls.

Kevin Allison (35:10)

Biggies Blue Balls Big balls just dropped.

Jason Burke (35:13)

Get Blue Balls this season with Buzzballs. Please drink responsibly. Buzz Balls available in spirit, wine and malt, 15% alcohol by volume. Buzzballs LLC Carrollton, Texas we're back.

Kevin Allison (35:28)

This is Risk and we just heard Robin Beatty's beloved Little Mary Sunshine and Robin herself just before that. You know wrist can be pretty hard hitting, but once in a while it's nice to have some happy memories of a bygone era. You can find Robin on all the Socials Obinbatty and her solo show Nancy Drewinski and the Search for the Missing Letter. How the Red Scare Came to the Jersey Shot.

Kelly Dunham (36:02)

Sure.

Kevin Allison (36:04)

It is currently touring with a grant from the Brooklyn Arts Council. Find that@nancydruwinski.com Folks, last summer a fan named Nico sent us this note. I fondly remember walking in the woods listening to Risk every week after moving away from home. That was in 2015, and I've never stopped listening. Now whenever I do, it feels like meeting an old friend. Thank you for giving consistency in this world that very much isn't. Thank you Nico. I love when people tell where they've listened to the show, what, you know, what environment they associate with being in when they listen to the show. I'll tell you, I would be lying if I said that we're doing okay financially this year. Once again, things are getting a lot tighter for us. Our financial support among fans has dipped. Now Nico made a one time donation there. People can do that at PayPal, me/RisksHow. You can do that or you can become a Patreon patron with all the perks that come with that, including bonus stories from people like Katya Duft.

Jason Burke (37:31)

We have this very young policeman who comes over and he's like, what is the cause of death? And we're all crying and I'm like, prostate cancer.

Kevin Allison (37:38)

And the policeman is barely 20 and he's like, what is prostate? So we all laugh and they say, young man, the fact that it doesn't.

Jason Burke (37:46)

Bother both of you now, just wait like 50 years and you might remember about it again.

Kevin Allison (37:51)

And there's so much more where that came from. There's over 250 bonus stories I've been told, plus an ad free feed of the podcast that you can plug right into your regular podcast app, all@patreon.com risk. Okay, now after these stories about show people on Broadway and off Broadway, we're going to a stage way off Broadway. It was recorded at Julia Whitehouse's monthly Top Shelf Story show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in New York. This is a story from Kelly Dunham that she calls Use the Green Room.

Jason Burke (38:36)

Gotta have it political. For she's very, very.

Robin Beatty (38:54)

I am from this stoic Germanic rural Midwestern farm family. Last kid. How stoic? How Germanic? Well, my sister came home from the public library with the Free to Be you and me album, the 1970s Touchy Feely album. And we were playing it in the family room and it was the Rosie Greer song. You know, he's a Big defensive lineman for the Detroit, I don't know, basketball team, football team. Okay. You would think with this haircut and this. I would know. It's like a costume. Sorry. Anyway, so Rosie Greer singing It's All Right to Cry. And my dad walks through the family room, looks around at his assembled seven children, and says, I hope nobody's getting any fucking ideas around here. And we just shook our heads because, no, in fact, we were not getting any fucking ideas. Any complaint to my father was met with one of two responses. He would say, there's more to life than being happy. You know, which is true. There's more to life than breathing. But breathing is a good place to start, right? Or he would say, most people are just about as happy as they make up their minds they're going to be. This was a quote he alternately attributed to Winston Churchill, Dale Carnegie, and on at least one occasion, Abraham Lincoln. I don't think Abraham Lincoln said that. Right. Like, we know he was clinically depressed, and I don't think he looked around at the carnage of the Civil War and said, you know what we need around here? Positive attitudes. So I guess I really. I'm so grateful for this stoic, dramatic. You know, it's very useful, right, to be able to kind of just power your way through. That's very useful today. But when I was a kid, I just wanted Rosie Greer to be my dad. Or perhaps Mr. Rogers. We would gather around our black and white, tiny little TV, and we would watch Mr. Rogers sing those emotional ballads like he was like an alien. He would sing these emotional ballads from the point of view of the child, which was heresy in Midwestern 70s parenting, you know, the idea that the child at all was going to weigh in on the decisions of the family. So I think because of this Germanic, stoic upbringing, ever since I started performing, which has been a very long time now, I don't use the green room, you know, the room to sit in. You guys know, you're New Yorkers. You know what a fucking green room is, all right? I prefer just to wait out in the lobby because I feel like it's just in general, I've always felt like it's just so precious, right? Like, oh, you know, my accountant, he doesn't need a special room to go into to get into accountant character, right? Or to get into accountant space. He just does my taxes. And even when he gets me a great refund, I never give him a standing ovation. So ever since I left Wisconsin, which was after I figured out I was queer from obvious looking in the mirror reasons. I've always lived pretty much on the eastern coast. And so I was so excited when somebody called me and asked me. Not somebody, the person who owned the comedy club asked me to perform at a comedy club in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. This is the closest I had been to where I grew up in almost 30 years. And so I was super excited. I got to the comedy club and it was a abandoned flower shop. And if you don't understand why somebody would abandon a flower shop, you have never been to rural Wisconsin. And the seating for the patrons were benches that had been pulled from school buses. Wrecked school buses. Why were there so many wrecked school buses in rural Wisconsin? My guess is stoic Germanic people not wanting to cancel school just because there was a little snowstorm. So I was waiting outside in the lobby, as I usually do, and there was a man, unsurprisingly, wearing a John Deere hat, pacing back and forth, you know, about 20ft away from me. And he is pacing and pacing and pacing. And as he paced, each pace got a little bit closer to me. And when he got close enough that I could hear him, he said, I have something to tell you. Now, he did not say, I have something to tell you. Would you like to hear it? He did not say, I have something to tell you. I would like your enthusiastic consent to continue. He said, I have something to tell you. I think I'm your biological father. And I said, oh. I said, oh, because I was not expecting to have that particular conversation at that moment. And I also said, oh, because there was a dude who lived in my house when I was a kid and I thought he was my father because I called him father, you know, so. But once he began, he like, could not stop himself. He's like, oh, I think I'm going to be all father. Like, you know how, you know how your mom had all those affairs? I wasn't aware of all those affairs. I wasn't even aware of one. And then he continued, your mom had all these affairs and I was one of them. And I just, I always knew you existed, but I hadn't really done the math. And then I heard about you and I heard you were in New York and I've been following you on Facebook. Extremely creepy use of Facebook. And he said, and I think I'm your biological father. And I said, oh. And then he reached in his pocket and fished around for a second and brought out a tiny piece of completely sweat stoked paper with his AOL address written on it. And he handed it to me. And as I reached out to take it, I heard from the stage. And now let's give a big round for Kelly Dunham. So I walked onto the stage holding a tiny sweat soaked piece of paper with the AOL address of my potentially allegedly, possibly biological father. And my alleged biological father came and sat on the front row and he drank beer after beer after beer. And he did not laugh as much as I thought he should have if he was actually my biological father. And he left during my closer. The whole chair was just surrounded by empty. So later I called my girlfriend and she said, well, what do you think? I mean, could he be your father? Does he look like you? And I was like, well, it's rural Wisconsin. The gene pool is this deep, everybody looks like me. Like, this is the only face in central Wisconsin. So I tried to think about, like, what were my options. My actual. The dude I called father had died when I was a teenager, so I couldn't really fact check with him. And my mom and I had had a really long time of not speaking when I came out to her. So we were just back in touch and I thought it would be super awkward to bring up. But then I thought about it and you know, my mom, she had a type and it was an emotionally stunted alcoholic. And this man had clearly proven that he was Both right, like Mr. Rogers. That's not how Mr. Rogers would have told his biological. And so I did not get in touch for the same reason you don't send back food at Red Lobster. I knew there was nothing better in the kitchen. From this I learned two things, and one is really more for you. If you think that you are the biological father of a comedy performer, you should tell them after and not before the show. And the other is for me now every time I use the green room. Thank you.

Kevin Allison (47:40)

It's all right to cry Crying gets the sad out of you it's all right to cry it might make you feel better Raindrop from your eyes Washing all the mad out of your Raindrops from your eyes it's gonna make you feel better it's alright to feel things Though the feelings may be strange Feelings are such real things and they change and change and change Sad and grumpy down in the dumpy snuggly, huggly mean and ugly Sloppy, slappy hoppy happy Change and change and change. This is Risk. This is the badass Rosie Greer behind me now, a professional football player and free to be you and me. Er, this song meant a lot to me when I was about 7 years old and we just heard Kelly Dunham's story. Use the Green Room. Kelly has a sub stack that you should definitely check out. It's called Hoping Intentionally Gazette Funny writing about serious subjects and never about airline food. That's@kellydunham.substack.com and you can also find her on Instagram kellydunham. And you Dear listener, whether you're in showbiz or not, if you heard anything on this episode that reminds you of something that happened to you on a stage, or behind a stage, or around a stage, pitch it to us. Just go to risk-show.com submissions to find out how. And you've probably heard me talking about these workshops, these online storytelling workshops that I'm teaching this spring. The first one's underway and oh my goodness, it's so moving. It's so beautiful. Such a wonderful group of people. But there are still two more more chances to take this class with me before I move to a very different time zone. The next one starts on May 14th and the last one starts on June 1st, so get in touch if you'd like to join in. Just email me at kevin@risk-show.com Another way that you can help me build up a safety savings for making this move is do a hangout with me. I'm doing these little hangouts. Anyone can give $100 or more to have a Zoom session hangout with me and just talk about whatever you'd like to talk about. Run a story by me or just shoot the shit. Ask me any questions you've ever wanted to ask. Email me about that at kevin@risk-show.com and tomorrow we have something super fun. We have another Risk react episode. This time we have the video footage of the story being told. So it'll be a good one to check out on YouTube. But that is tomorrow. Meanwhile, folks, today is the day. Take a risk. It's all right. No feelings come and feelings go. Oh, it's alright to cry. It might make you feel better. It's all right to cry, little boy. I know some big boys that cry too.