Comedy

I got a hot date tonight HONK

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Yeah, about my hot date… I’ll get to that in a second.

First, here’s a scene from the animated TV show The Simpsons. The scene illustrates a valuable/funny point about influence. But hold on.

I grew up watching The Simpsons. If you didn’t, that’s no problem. You don’t need to like The Simpsons or even to have ever seen a single episode to get what this scene is about, or to understand the underlying point.

Scene:

Moe the bartender is being interrogated by the police for shooting the local billionaire, Mr. Burns.

Moe is hooked up to a lie detector machine. He’s asked if he ever held a grudge against Mr. Burns. He answers no. But the lie detector machine HONKS to indicate he’s lying.

“All right,” Moe says. “Maybe I did. But I didn’t shoot him!” Sure enough, the lie detector machine DINGS to confirm Moe’s statement as true.

“Checks out,” says the cop. “Ok sir, you’re free to go.”

So far, so conventional. But then, Moe executes the following rapid-fire descent into humiliation, to the sounds of the lie detector machine:

“Good,” he says. “Cause I got a hot date tonight!” HONK

“A date.” HONK

“Dinner with Fred.” HONK

“Dinner alone.” HONK

“Watching TV alone!” HONK

“All right!!!” Moe says. “I’m gonna sit at home and ogle the ladies in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue!” HONK

Moe hangs his head. “Sears catalogue.” DING

“Now would you unhook this already please! I don’t deserve this kind of shabby treatment!” HONK

That’s the end of the scene. Maybe you found it funny even in my transcript above. But if you didn’t, trust me that it’s funny in the original version.

The question is… why?

Is it just funny to find out Moe is a loser? That’s part of it. But would it have been as funny if the scene simply went:

“Good. Cause I got a hot date tonight!” HONK

[Moe hangs head] “Actually, I’m gonna sit at home and ogle the ladies in the Sears catalogue.” DING

My contention is no. That wouldn’t be nearly as funny. Which brings me to the following valuable point that I promised you:

“We build interest by adding more: more movement, more color, more sound, more light, more people, more intensity, more concentration, more excitement. In short, anything whatever that the spectators regard as increasing will also increase their interest.”

That comes from a book about magic and showmanship. In other words, the above advice about adding more is how expert magicians build the audience’s interest.

But it works the same for comedy.

And in fact, it works the same for copywriting.

Stack a bunch of moderately interesting, or funny, or insightful stuff on top of each other… and the effect is multiplicative, not additive.

And with that punchline, we conclude today’s episode. DING

But if by any chance you want more simple tips on building interest and desire in your readers, you can find that here:

https://bejakovic.com/sme/

Problem: There’s nothing happening in my brain

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It’s day three after my flight back from North America to Europe. Jet lag skipped the first night, but kicked in last night.

I went to bed at 10pm, woke up at 1am, lay awake, got up, read for a while, went back to bed, tossed and turned some more.

I’m guessing it was 5am by the time I finally fell asleep again. I slept until 10am and woke up like I was emerging from a month-long coma.

I’m telling you this because it’s now a few hours later. I’ve gone outside to clear my head. I’ve had breakfast. None of it has helped.

It’s time to write my daily email. But because of this disturbed sleep and resulting confusion, and because it’s very late for writing by my usual standard, there’s absolutely nothing happening in my head.

No new ideas for today’s email.

Nothing good based on recent reader replies in my inbox.

Nothing in my extensive journal that sparks any kind of miserable light in my mind.

In situations like this, I have enough experience that I can brute-force my way and write something acceptable. And that’s what I started to do today as well.

But then I caught myself.

I realized that the fact that nothing is happening in my brain today is my topic for today’s email.

I recently listened to an interview with a stand-up comedian, Chris Grace. Grace was talking about what he does when things are not going well, when his jokes are falling flat, when the audience isn’t responding. He said:

===

My main tool is that I never pretend that it’s not going the way it’s going. And I think this is a pretty common standup tactic, which is just to call out exactly what is happening in the room.

​​I think the skill level here is how aligned you can be with the exact energy of you plus the audience. So if there is a certain tone happening or if there is a vibe, the closest you can get to accurately naming that vibe and building from there, it can help you unify the room sometimes.

===

I heard somewhere that the legendary copywriter Gene Schwartz threw out all of his winning sales letters and ads.

Schwartz didn’t have a swipe file to consult. He didn’t have templates. He looked at each sales situation as unique. And he tried to align himself and call out the exact vibe of the market he was writing to, right in that moment. This is how he paid for a penthouse on New York’s Park Avenue… a world-famous art collection… and an all-around ritzy Manhattan lifestyle.

It works in dating, too.

​​I once went on a first date with a Norwegian girl. She was a very smooth conversationalist. I believe she was a psychologist, or maybe a therapist.

Through her professional training, this girl kept the conversation on our date going without the slightest hitch. She made me feel she is very interested in my life story… what I’d studied in my many years of college and grad school… what I think about turtles, life, and the universe.

I kept talking and talking. Gradually, panic started to build inside me. I realized I was drowning in quicksand.

So when the Norwegian girl smoothly transitioned from one waning topic and opened up yet another avenue of promising scientific discussion, I cut her off.

“No, we’re not going to talk about that,” I said.

“We’re not?” she asked. “Why not?”

“Because we need to do some first-date stuff.”

She laughed. “What do you have in mind?”

“This is the moment during the first date when you and I have to work together. We have to see if we can create some kind of sexual spark between us.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled for the first time that night. And the conversation shifted to much more promising waters, about the strange hookup culture in Norway, about how dating worked in Hungary where I was living at the time, and about the kinds of things she found attractive in men.

I’ll leave off that story for now. And I’ll just remind you of the power of calling out the vibe, whatever it is — particularly if it’s not working in your favor.

That’s free, highly specific advice on persuasion and influence.

For paid, more widely useful advice, specifically a framework for owning persuasion and influence skills of all kinds, take a look here:

https://bejakovic.com/mve/

I shot a moose

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“I shot a moose once,” says Woody Allen. The audience at the comedy club starts chuckling.

“I was hunting upstate New York,” Woody explains, “and I shot a moose.” It’s the beginning of a 3-minute routine. But it’s already funny.

The question is why.

If you don’t want me to kill this joke for you, then stop reading now. But if you’re curious why “I shot a moose” is already funny in itself, and how this can help you write better stories, then read on.

Still here? Let’s dissect this:

“I shot a moose once,” says Woody. The audience chuckles.

Partly it’s the improbable setup. Woody Allen, small, city dweller, nebbish, hunting in upstate New York.

But partly it’s the moose itself. The same improbable setup would not be as funny if Woody said, “I shot a deer.”

Why moose and not deer? A few possibilities:

Moose look funny. They have the round muzzle, the cauliflower antlers, they are oversized and look ungainly.

Also, moose are less common than deer. Maybe that makes the story less likely to be real, and therefore more absurd.

Finally, the word moose is funny for some reason to English speakers. Perhaps it makes us think of “moo” as in cow. Perhaps it’s the unexpected unvoiced “s” at the end. If the animal’s name were pronounced “mooze,” it might not be as funny.

In good comedy routines, as in good stories, the comedian takes you down a meandering garden path. What’s important is not the destination – the punchline — but the journey along the way.

So how do you organize a meandering stroll for the greatest effect?

Like a fountain in a real garden, some things are guaranteed to please during a comedy show — mockery, mimicry, slapstick.

Other times, it’s just important to stroll and take surprising new turns. What exactly lies around the corner doesn’t matter too much, as long as it’s new.

And then, there’s the unimportant detail that’s actually important. The cabbage patch instead of the flower bed… or the moose in the Woody Allen routine.

So why the moose?

We can guess, but ​​nobody knows for sure, not even Woody Allen. Whatever it is about the moose, the fact is this seemingly unimportant detail is actually important.

The point of today’s email is not the moose. It’s that fascinating gardens, like great stories and funny comedy routines, rarely spring forth fully formed.

They are the work of careful craftsmen.

Comedians like Woody Allen will deliver the same routine hundreds or thousands of times, each time perfecting the delivery and testing out small variations, including all the unimportant details. It’s the collection of all those details that ultimately “get the click.”

So that’s my takeaway for you.

If you have a story to tell, but it’s not clicking, maybe it’s not the story. In fact, it’s almost certainly not the story.

Retell it again, tweak it, add in stuff, take out stuff, polish it.

A new audience will keep thinking that it’s new. An old audience will need to be reminded. And to both an old and a new audience, the final walk down the garden path that you deliver will be more fascinating and stimulating than what you started with.

I wish I had a storytelling training to sell you right now. I don’t have one. But I’ve actually written quite a lot about storytelling, and experimented with storytelling techniques myself.

You can learn and profit from my experiments. They are one part of what’s documented inside my Most Valuable Email course, specifically in the Most Valuable Email Swipes #13,#16, #17, #18, #19, #20, and #22.

For more information:

https://bejakovic.com/mve/

Magical incantations to make people laugh, fail, buy, or unzip their pants

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Yesterday, I shared two puzzles, two incomplete stories of two hypnotists, Mike Mandel and Derren Brown.

I asked people to choose which puzzle they wanted the answer to. The requests came pouring in, and the results were clear, two to one. People wanted to know the answer to the Derren Brown puzzle twice as much as to the Mike Mandel puzzle.

My “two puzzles” offer is now over. I replied to everyone privately with the answers to the puzzle they chose. I’ll save the Derren Brown puzzle answer for a book I’ve decided to put together. But if you’d like to know the answer to the Mike Mandel puzzle, here it is:

Mike did his induction in his hypnosis subject… then planted his suggestion to remove the phobia. And then, hypnosis over, he asked the person to try to bring back the feelings of fear they had before.

There are two reasons Mike did this. One was straightforward — to test if he had done his job.

“Why don’t people test their work?” Mike asks. “Because they are afraid it hasn’t worked. But if it hasn’t worked, isn’t it better to know when they’re still in your office than when they phone you two weeks later and they’ve had a nervous breakdown?”

The second reason was more subtle. It’s that the word “try” sets people up to fail — or so Mike claims.

I’ve tested it out on myself, and I agree. Whenever I say, “I will try…” I’ve found that what I really mean is, “It won’t happen but let me make a show of it.”

Mike claims you can subtly do this to other people too. Whenever you want to get somebody to fail at something, simply tell them to try to do it. “Try to bring back those feelings of fear.”

Now try to ignore the bigger point, which is that individual words have real power.

This is true in hypnosis (“try”)… in copywriting (“secret”)… in confidence games (“opportunity”)… in comedy (“moose”)… and in pickup. In the words of pick up artist Nick Krauser:

“I tell my students that Game is not a series of magical incantations to get into an unsuspecting woman’s pants, but that’s only half true. It sort of is.”

Now try to tell yourself you didn’t read anything new here. And try not to be interested in what I promise on the following page:

https://bejakovic.com/mve/

“Email Marketing: A Lecture by Rowan Atkinson”

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Here’s a quick checklist of elements that make for engaging, effective, and influential emails:

1. Conflict, outrage. We seem to take a constant delight in seeing or participating in a fight. The more real it is, the more engaging it is. The more status the fight participants have, the more engaging it is.

2. Surprising connections between unrelated things, or surprising distinctions in things that seemed simple and unified.

3. Metaphors, analogies, and “transubstantiation.”

4. Angst. All good copy is rooted in angst. As Dan Kennedy likes to say, “The sky is either falling or is about to fall.”

5. Imitation and parody.

6. An engaging character. As Matt Furey didn’t but should have said, “For the email marketer, nothing transcends character.” The email of personality, rather than the email of “value.” Email is not about sharing valuable information. It’s about writing about normal things in a valuable and interesting way. It’s about accuracy of human observation and precision of the observation.

7. All right, enough of this. Let me come clean:

Everything I’ve just told you actually comes from a video titled “Visual Comedy: A Lecture by Rowan Atkinson.”

Atkinson you might best know as the clumsy priest from Four Weddings and a Funeral.

I watched Atkinson’s Visual Comedy guide a few days ago, expecting to be entertained. And I was that. But I found the video surprisingly full of deep analysis of what actually makes for visual comedy. It was like a prehistoric episode of the Every Frame a Painting series, if you’ve ever seen that.

And not only was this video insightful.

I realized that much, or maybe all, of what makes for good visual comedy can be ported very easily to email marketing.

For example, point #1 above is really about slapstick. As the Visual Comedy video says, “We seem to take a constant delight in seeing people hurt and humiliated. The more real it is, the funnier it is. The more dignified the victim, the funnier it is.”

And that Matt Furey non-quote in point #6?

​​It actually comes from Charlie Chaplin. “For the comedian, nothing transcends character.”

If you like, I’ve linked the entire Rowan Atkinson video below. You can watch it and try to figure out which techniques of visual comedy I mapped to each of my email marketing points above.

Of course, there’s more in this video than just what I’ve written above. The list of connections between visual comedy and email marketing is long and distinguished, and doesn’t just stop at 6″.

As just one example:

Maybe the most valuable part of this video is the detailed discussion of what exactly makes for an engaging character in visual comedy. I found almost all of this applied to email marketing directly, without the need for even the smallest bit of translation. Now that I think about it, maybe it’s a lesson I should apply myself.

So to wrap up:

​If you’re a goofy and thoughtless person who enjoys laughing when somebody slips on a banana peel…

​Or if you’re a deep and serious thinker who is interested in uncovering the hidden structure of things most people take for granted…

​Then I believe you will get value out of this video. Or maybe you’ll just get some pointed human observation. You can find it below. Before you click to watch it, you might want to sign up for my daily email newsletter, and get more insightful things like the essay you’ve just read.

A watermelon-headed politician walks into a flat-earther’s house…

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I’d like to tell you a story but first I have to give you a bit of background. Our story has two characters:

First, there’s Pericles, a famous statesman in ancient Athens.

Pericles led the Athenians at the start of their war against the Spartans. He was also well-known for having a watermelon-sized head. That’s why statues most often show him wearing a helmet.

Second, we have Anaxagoras, a philosopher who came from Asia and settled in Athens.

Anaxagoras brought with him the spirit of scientific inquiry, which wasn’t common in Athens before. He also happened to be a flat-earther.

Now, on to the story:

When Pericles the Athenian was a young man, he studied philosophy with Anaxagoras.

Later, Pericles became a powerful man. When he needed to make important political decisions, he still consulted his wise old teacher.

But as Pericles sailed the seas, leading the Greeks in battle, Anaxagoras grew older and poorer. There aren’t many drachmas to be made in explaining rainbows or what the moon is made of.

In time, Anaxagoras became so poor he could no longer afford even a bit of cheese and wine. So one day, he did the only philosophical thing:

He covered his head with a robe, and determined to starve himself to death.

When Pericles heard about this, he rushed to Anaxagoras’s house.

He started begging his old teacher to live. He lamented his own hopeless future if he should lose so valuable an advisor.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Then Anaxagoras yanked the robe off his head, looked at Pericles, and said, “Pericles, those who want to use a lamp supply it with oil.”

So that’s the story.

I don’t know about you, but when I first read it, it made me laugh.

And because I like to kill a good joke, I asked myself why I found this story funny.

Was it the idea of an old man starving himself to death?

Not really funny.

Was it the lamp analogy at the end?

Not so funny either.

I realized it was the robe.

​​Anaxagoras put it on his head and then pulled it off. It made him seem like a petulant child. It was such a contrast to the image of a sage and self-possessed philosopher.

So there you go:

Seemingly irrelevant details give all the color to a story. They can create suspense. Enjoyment. Or, of course, humor.

But perhaps I didn’t kill enough jokes for you today.

If so, then subscribe to my email newsletter, so I can kill another joke for you tomorrow.

And then, then take a listen to the 2 minute and 45 second clip below. It’s a recording of a young Woody Allen, delivering a standup routine in the 1960s.

Then listen to it again. And notice all the detail — seemingly irrelevant, but really, just what makes the skit funny. it might be something you can use in your own writing.

​​Here’s the video:

I’ve thought this email over a lot, I wanted to get it just right

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Picture the scene:

A man, wearing a pastel flower-print shirt and unmatching shorts, runs down the street after a stylishly dressed woman.

HIM: Um, look.

She turns around.

HIM: Sorry. I just… um, well this is a really stupid question, particularly in view of our recent shopping excursion [they had just been shopping together for the woman’s wedding gown]… but ah… I just wondered… if by any chance, um… ah… well obviously not, because I’m just some git who’s only slept with nine people… but I just wondered… I really feel… um… in short, to recap in a slightly clearer version… in the words of David Cassidy, in fact, while he was still with The Partridge Family… I THINK I LOVE YOU. And I just wondered if by any chance you wouldn’t like to… um… ah… um… no… no… no, of course, not. I’m an idiot. He’s not. Excellent, excellent. Fantastic. Lovely to see you. Sorry to disturb. Better get on.

The man turns to leave.

HER: That was very romantic.

The man turns to face her again and winces.

HIM: Well, I thought it over a lot. I wanted to get it just right.

That’s a scene from the 1994 movie Four Weddings and a Funeral. The man in the scene is played by Hugh Grant, in his typical 90s role as a boyishly charming uber-Englishman.

I bring this scene up because over the last few days, I’ve been talking about denial. When people are faced with a situation… or realization… or personal characteristic that they find unacceptable… and so they take various evasive maneuvers.

Such as for example, making a joke out of it.

That’s what’s happening in the last line of that scene above. Hugh has just put his heart on the line, he’s been tacitly rejected, and he’s made a donkey out of himself.

​​What better way to put it all behind than with a bit of irony?

Vilaynur Ramachandran, the neuroscientist whose book got me thinking about denial in the first place, says that denial explains why so much of humor deals with sensitive topics like sex and death.

​​And I guess it explains 90% of the life work of Woody Allen.

So the conclusion is, when you hear people making a joke out of something… well, um… ah… to put it more concretely, in the words of Eric Idle in fact, while he was still with Monty Python… WHEN YOU PURSE YOUR LIPS AND WHISTLE, IT MEANS YOU’RE CHEWING ON — but of course. How silly of me. Sorry, terrible. You must already know what I’m getting at. And you wouldn’t perhaps want to… but of course not. No. Excellent. Excellent. Lovely to see you. Better get on.

Make ’em laugh and take their money (a resource for you)

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“And you know what?” George Wallace says with a twinkle in his eye. “I want them to bring back smoking on these airplanes.”

A few people in the crowd yell, “Yeah, yeah.” But they’re getting ahead of themselves. Because George isn’t pro-smoking:

“I was one of the first people said, ‘Get rid of smoking.’ Now I want them to bring that smoke back!”

The crowd chuckles and wriggles in their seats with anticipation. They know something good is coming. They’re ready. So George gives it to ’em:

“I had no idea what this smoke was covering up! People are releasing odors on these airplanes—”

The crowd erupts with laughter and applause. Meanwhile I hit pause. And I stare.

I’m not great at writing funny. I’m trying to get better, because it’s a valuable skill. As Dan Kennedy put it, “Make ’em laugh and take their money.”

So I spend my lonely Thursday afternoons watching old comedy specials. And while the crowd is laughing, I put the video on pause and I stare at the screen. Like a mule, staring at a barn door, trying to discover the secret of how to make the door handle work, and how the farmer does it so easy every day.

But there’s a problem with a mule like me imitating a farmer, I mean a comedian, like George Wallace.

Comedians have a lot of live-show advantages. The audience comes in a good mood… ready to laugh… and triggered to laugh when they hear others laughing. Plus the comedian can mime, do voices, roll his eyes.

You’ve got none of those advantages when writing.

That’s why funny writing is so rare and so elusive. And that’s why I’m always on the lookout for funny writers.
​
So today, I want to tell you about a writer who’s got it. In fact, a copywriter.

I could pump him up because he’s got endorsements from big-name marketers and copywriters. Like Ramit Sethi. And Drayton Bird. And even a guy named Andrew Campbell, from the Harmon Brothers Ad Agency, which makes those funny and viral video ads.

But forget that.

Instead, I could pump him up because he is the biggest copywriting thing on an entire continent. An improbable feat.

But forget that, too.

Instead, I could pump him up because he’s sufficiently controversial to get himself banned from large corners of the Internet. And you might be curious to see what’s up.

But no. Forget all of that. And instead, I suggest you check out this copywriter only because he succeeds in writing funny, day after day, in the context of selling.

You might know who I have in mind. Or you might not.

In any case, if you liked this email, you might like his emails also.

And if you didn’t like this email, you might still like his emails, because he does humor in writing much better. And maybe he can show you how to do it too.

So in case you’re curious… then start wriggling in your seat with anticipation… and get ready for something good here:

https://persuasivepage.com/

Do copywriters have to be funny?

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“That’s the face of every married guy ever.”

Sam Kinison was a former Pentecostal preacher turned standup comic. He was a stout man, with girlish shoulder-length hair, and in the video I watched of him today, he wore a black trench coat on stage. He started off his set in a sweet and quiet tone:

“I’ve been going around the country trying to get as many people as I can not to get married. I’ve been married and I’m just trying to help. Anyone here never been married?”

A guy in the front row raised his head.

“You never been married?” Sam said, his eyebrows rising up innocently. He walked over to the unmarried guy. “Ok, just promise me this.”

“If you ever think about getting married,” Sam said, “remember this face.”

And he started screaming — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH — the patended Sam Kinison “I’m in hell” scream, right into the poor unmarried guy’s face.

“That’s the face of every married guy ever,” Sam concluded, back in his normal sweet voice.

In my email self-critique yesterday, I criticized myself for missing an opportunity to be funny.

But do you have to be funny if you write copy?

As Dan Kennedy likes to say, you only have to be funny if you want to get paid. Dan even wrote a book all about it, “Make ’em laugh and take their money.”

From what I’ve seen, a few rare individuals can be funny just by being who they are. By being unfiltered or obnoxious or polarizing. Sam Kinison was apparently one of these. According to his brother:

“With Sam, what you saw was what was there. He didn’t exaggerate for the stage.”

But what if you don’t have such an unfiltered personality?

Well, here’s what humor writer SJ Perelman once said. Perelman was asked what it takes to be a comic writer. He responded:

“It takes audacity and exuberance and gaiety, and the most important one is audacity. The reader has to feel that the writer is feeling good. Even if he isn’t.”

In other words, you can fake it. Fake it till you make it… or at least fake it until you’ve finished writing that email or VSL lead or seminar stump speech that’s been sitting and looking at you for days.

And if faking it isn’t working, then go on YouTube and watch some Sam Kinison screaming… or Bill Burr ranting… or Eddie Murphy grinning.

​​These guys will make you feel good for a few minutes. They might even give you some audacity. Just remember this face — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH