14. SPEAKING FROM THE HOLE: Imagine, if you will, this situation: a brunette decides to add highlight coloring to her hair. For a while she is delighted with the results. But highlighting is often a very high maintenance operation. Because she is forced to reapply this highlighting in order to maintain a certain consistent appearance, she often falls into the trap of coloring all of her hair in that highlight color. She then becomes a walking contradiction. Her complexion and her hair color no longer agree with one another, and she takes on that hard, “truck stop hooker” look. Believe me, this is a common problem today. Many women have no idea that they look that way to the world. In their minds they believe that they are attractive. They believe that they have that same look they had when they were towheaded four-year-olds. But the inappropriate hair coloring makes them look cheap and hard and used.
Let us further imagine that such a fake-hair woman is required to give a speech. Her auditors will spend most of their time assessing her looks rather than her words. She will be speaking from a hole - a hole that she herself has dug and thrown herself into.
There is a principle involved here. Never ever place yourself in a hole before you begin your speech by the way you look or dress. Do not dye your hair so that you look like a hooker. That’s pretty basic. Do not wear unfashionable clothing that invites ridicule and contempt. Don’t put your makeup on with a brick trowel. Leave your jangly ear rings at home. Give your audience your best appearance, your best grooming, and your best speech. Don’t give them something to laugh at. Don’t give them a reason to dismiss you before you even open your mouth.
15. PAINTING YOUR OWN PORTRAIT: Sometimes comedians like to start their act by telling the audience what a terrible time they had getting there. No one - absolutely no one - is interested in the problems the comedian had getting there. There’s a very sound reason for this: the members of the audience know immediately that the comedian is stalling for time because he is not prepared to start his act. Instead of preparing a proper introduction to his routine, he gives us this nonsense about his personal life that we are not interested in. And then he expects us to sit there and pretend like we are interested in his goofy problems. But we have come for a comedy act, not an autobiography.
There is a principle involved here as well. Normally, when we go to a comedy club, we expect to see a comedy act. We might call that expectation the expectation of context. If the marquee on the building advertises a comedy club, we would find it very strange to go inside and hear a philosophical discussion about the Mind-Body problem, or strategies for dealing with lawn pests. The context, then, supplies the relevant expectation in our minds. Whenever we are presented with something other than a comedy routine in a comedy club, that expectation of comedy is frustrated and we become annoyed with the person who supplies that frustration.
So, we might summarize this principle by saying this: no speaker should ever begin his speech by painting his own portrait. He should never tell his audience that he is very nervous; that he’s no good at public speaking; that he doesn’t know how to begin; that he doesn’t know what to say; that he’s so...did I mention him being nervous? Yeah, well, we all know he’s nervous. His auditors don’t give a hoot that he’s nervous, or that he’s a bumbling, fumbling idiot who doesn’t know how to begin a speech. They came to hear his speech and the speaker should give the speech without all those preliminary brush strokes that actually paint him in the parti colors of a fool.
Then too, there’s another problem with standing up there and whining about how hard it is to begin: the speaker sets up a context for failure. Each time the speaker tells of another difficulty that he is having with giving the speech, the auditors are less and less likely to want to hear anything else he has to say. Each complaint, each revelation of some frustration, sets up an expectation in the auditors’ minds that the person speaking has absolutely nothing worthwhile to say. The longer the speaker stands there and lists all the personal difficulties he is having starting his speech, the more impatient his auditors become. But there is a limit to the patience on the part of the audience. When they do not find the speaker beginning his speech immediately, their minds shut down and they do not want to hear the balance of his speech No matter how quickly he abandons his simpering “poor me” act, the auditors will fold their arms across their chests and sit there and allow their minds to go numb. There is no recovery from such a bad beginning: whine about yourself and you will lose your audience. Guaranteed.
Let us further imagine that such a fake-hair woman is required to give a speech. Her auditors will spend most of their time assessing her looks rather than her words. She will be speaking from a hole - a hole that she herself has dug and thrown herself into.
There is a principle involved here. Never ever place yourself in a hole before you begin your speech by the way you look or dress. Do not dye your hair so that you look like a hooker. That’s pretty basic. Do not wear unfashionable clothing that invites ridicule and contempt. Don’t put your makeup on with a brick trowel. Leave your jangly ear rings at home. Give your audience your best appearance, your best grooming, and your best speech. Don’t give them something to laugh at. Don’t give them a reason to dismiss you before you even open your mouth.
15. PAINTING YOUR OWN PORTRAIT: Sometimes comedians like to start their act by telling the audience what a terrible time they had getting there. No one - absolutely no one - is interested in the problems the comedian had getting there. There’s a very sound reason for this: the members of the audience know immediately that the comedian is stalling for time because he is not prepared to start his act. Instead of preparing a proper introduction to his routine, he gives us this nonsense about his personal life that we are not interested in. And then he expects us to sit there and pretend like we are interested in his goofy problems. But we have come for a comedy act, not an autobiography.
There is a principle involved here as well. Normally, when we go to a comedy club, we expect to see a comedy act. We might call that expectation the expectation of context. If the marquee on the building advertises a comedy club, we would find it very strange to go inside and hear a philosophical discussion about the Mind-Body problem, or strategies for dealing with lawn pests. The context, then, supplies the relevant expectation in our minds. Whenever we are presented with something other than a comedy routine in a comedy club, that expectation of comedy is frustrated and we become annoyed with the person who supplies that frustration.
So, we might summarize this principle by saying this: no speaker should ever begin his speech by painting his own portrait. He should never tell his audience that he is very nervous; that he’s no good at public speaking; that he doesn’t know how to begin; that he doesn’t know what to say; that he’s so...did I mention him being nervous? Yeah, well, we all know he’s nervous. His auditors don’t give a hoot that he’s nervous, or that he’s a bumbling, fumbling idiot who doesn’t know how to begin a speech. They came to hear his speech and the speaker should give the speech without all those preliminary brush strokes that actually paint him in the parti colors of a fool.
Then too, there’s another problem with standing up there and whining about how hard it is to begin: the speaker sets up a context for failure. Each time the speaker tells of another difficulty that he is having with giving the speech, the auditors are less and less likely to want to hear anything else he has to say. Each complaint, each revelation of some frustration, sets up an expectation in the auditors’ minds that the person speaking has absolutely nothing worthwhile to say. The longer the speaker stands there and lists all the personal difficulties he is having starting his speech, the more impatient his auditors become. But there is a limit to the patience on the part of the audience. When they do not find the speaker beginning his speech immediately, their minds shut down and they do not want to hear the balance of his speech No matter how quickly he abandons his simpering “poor me” act, the auditors will fold their arms across their chests and sit there and allow their minds to go numb. There is no recovery from such a bad beginning: whine about yourself and you will lose your audience. Guaranteed.
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