by Mike Covers

This coming Saturday, February 24, Shane Gillis will be hosting Saturday Night Live. When this news was announced, it triggered a number of reactions, such as:

1. Who?
2. Saturday Night Live is still on the air?

Here in greater Philadelphia, where Comedy Train Rek is based, Gillis appearing on TV on a Sunday morning at 12AM alongside such nationally revered names as Devon Walker and Michael Longfellow is a huge deal. See, Gillis hails from Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania, which is one of those tiny communities in the middle of the state that people drive past at a high rate of speed to get from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, or vice-versa. I personally have never been to, or really even heard of, Mechanicsburg, but I will bet someone else’s paycheck that it doesn’t have much of a local comedy scene. It’s likely one of those towns where the only major point of interest/employer for thousands of miles is a 4-pump gas station named something like “Rick’s Gas, Auto, and Taxidermy.” As a result, Gillis had to hone his comedy in Philadelphia’s local comedy scene.

Starting with open mics and gradually working his way up to featured and headline spots on shows throughout the region, he made a name for himself (that name being “Shane Gillis”). Onstage, he has that classic “aw shucks” persona, fueled by the fact that he looks like a human version of a Valentine’s Day teddy bear, and hits his audience with jokes and observations that are KINDA conservative-leaning but also SOMEWHAT progressive-ish. Really, like in a group of divorcees, no one side is fully committed to. In addition to his time on the stage, he also created a number of video skits, most notably Gilly and Keeves alongside fellow Philly comedian John McKeever, among others, and, of course, podcasts. It’s basically a law now that if a stand-up comedian doesn’t ask you to listen to their podcast, then they are not really a comedian and instead someone with a stable job.

All of this propelled Gillis to places beyond Philadelphia (to any actual Philadelphians reading this: yes, these places really exist, and most of them don’t have a Wawa). He began to tour nationally and, in 2019, was actually hired by Saturday Night Live as one of its new cast members that season, alongside Chloe Fineman and Bowen Yang.

However, he only lasted 4 days–none of which were an actual Saturday–before being fired.

The reason for the abrupt deactivation of Gillis’ NBC employee badge was due to content in episodes of his podcast that he co-hosted with fellow Philly comedian Matt McCusker, the apparently-not-so-aptly-named Matt and Shane’s Secret Podcast. In these episodes, Gillis made ethnic jokes and did impressions of East Asians. It didn’t look good for the show to hire him at the same exact time it was adding its first-ever East Asian cast member (that cast member being, as if you couldn’t tell by the name, Chloe Fineman).

The podcast episodes were unearthed by, among others, Seth Simons, a Twitter journalist, which is perhaps the only occupation more pathetic than “stand-up comic” or even “podcaster.” I’m pretty sure that Elon Musk changed the name from Twitter to X JUST so he could eradicate the term “Twitter journalist” from the lexicon. When SNL distanced itself from Gillis, it made headlines everywhere, because it shed light on the fact that:

1. Saturday Night Live is, indeed, still on the air and is even hiring new cast members.
2. A first-year Saturday Night Live performer is held to higher ethical standards than, for example, the then-current president.
3. Simons actually listed to a stand-up comedian’s podcast ON HIS OWN, without being begged to, which might be the only time in recorded history that this has ever happened. 

Gillis took the ordeal in stride (“I’m more of a MadTV guy anyway,” he quipped after the fact) and was actually consoled–sometimes in person–by major league ex-SNLers like David Spade, Rob Schneider, and Norm MacDonald. He continued touring, making videos, and podcasting. Eventually, he had his own Netflix special, appeared in a few episodes of Pete Davidson’s Peacock show Bupkis, and is, well, now hosting the very same network TV show that had fired him just 5 years earlier. Honestly, I don’t blame him for that last part. If SNL asks you to host, you say yes, no matter where you are in your career. No questions asked. If SNL asked my great-uncle to host, he immediately would accept, despite the fact that he a) has never watched the show; b) has never had even a fleeting interest in comedy or showbiz; c) is currently dead.

Anyway, here in Philly, which still has its comedy community, you can only imagine how people reacted as all of this unfolded. Long (meaning “about 6 months”) before COVID did so, this situation POLARIZED people. On one side were those who “knew Shane personally” and claimed that he was perhaps the best human being who ever lived, and they were beyond ecstatic for him being on SNL because he deserved it/earned it/might be able to get THEM onto SNL too. On the other side were people who ALSO “knew Shane personally” and said that he was even WORSE than his podcast persona, that he was a 100% MAGA nut who couldn’t take a breath without exhaling something racist/homophobic. Comedians ended years-long friendships and kicked each other off of their shows over this. One local comedy theater actually banned Gillis and anyone sympathetic to him from their stage. The Facebook comment threads are probably STILL going on to this very day. This continued long after even both Shane and SNL forgot about it and moved on.

So this all leads to–where else?–me.

I myself was involved with the Philly comedy community at the same time Shane Gillis was. Of course, I never made it past the open mic stage. The only time I could ever hope to set foot in Studio 8H, the home of Saturday Night Live, is on the NBC Studio Tour. And while I may not have been “charismatic” or “determined” or, you know, “funny” like (most) other comics and a handful of the bartenders, I nevertheless did form friendships with several of them and Facebook friendships with many more.

So, you might want to know (no, you probably don’t care)…what do *I* think of Shane Gillis? After all, I had interacted with him in person/on Facebook long before SNL came calling (the first time). Surely I have some higher amount of “insider knowledge” than Twitter journalists and people outside of the Philly comedy community.

Well, as a matter of fact, I do. 

That’s right. People Magazine, TMZ, open your ears (and, more importantly, wallets). As the up-and-coming comedic personality Shane Gillis steps onto the stage that has only been graced by a small handful of comedy/showbiz legends like Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, and Al Gore, little ol’ me has a juicy…gooey, even…insight into what he was like “before he was a star.”

Are you ready to hear about my experience–which is 100% the truth–with Shane Gillis, well before he inadvertently polarized national social media? 

Here goes: Shane Gillis once ate one of my mozzarella sticks. 

I swear that this is true. And this isn’t innuendo or anything: he seriously did eat one of my mozzarella sticks once. On stage, no less.

Every year, Helium, one of the bigger Philadelphia comedy clubs, has a “Philly’s Phunniest” contest to determine who is the best comedian in the general area that year. And every year, they regret it. Sometimes, the contestants are actually funny and have the chops to expand their comedic wings well beyond Philadelphia: to New York, L.A., or even Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. Most of the comics, however, are even less witty than the term “Philly’s Phunniest.” The preliminary rounds, which are only open to those select few who pay the $20 entry fee, begin in June of each year and end approximately October of the following year (or so it seems). Anywhere from 8 to 15 different comedians (some of whom don’t even show up) (and they turn out to be the crowd favorites) tell what they–and usually ONLY they–consider to be their best jokes. Since these rounds are based on audiences’ rankings, all 8-15 of these comedians BEG their friends to take one of their 10 comp tickets and vote for them. Even if their friends are one of the other comics. Not that you asked, but for a deeper look into this whole event, check out my article on it from last year.

Anyway, one year, Shane Gillis won the title of Philly’s Phunniest. When a comic wins this auspicious award, they earn $1000 in cash and prime spots on Helium shows, such as opening for nationally touring comedians that general audiences have possibly heard of. But Helium also considers the annual Philly’s Phunniest contest to be a prime spot and thus has–or possibly forces–previous winners to host it.

On one particular night of the contest, I was there to support whatever comedian friend of mine offered me their comp ticket first on Facebook. When I go to these shows, I will occasionally sit with the other comedians, especially if they’re hot, who wisely choose to spend the entire show at the bar just outside the showroom, far from the comedic trainwreck happening inside. This night, however, I actually sat and watched the show, probably because none of my other comedian friends were there at the bar. Since I was by myself, I was given a seat right in front of the stage. If this show was being headlined by, say, Kevin Nealon, or even Kevin Nealon’s agent, such a table would cost close to $50. But since the show was being headlined by 10 or so quasi-drunk people whose co-workers/friends/moms told them they were funny, this prime real estate was offered to the first yutz who showed up with a free ticket. 

Helium has a “2 item minimum” rule, where you have to order at least 2 overpriced menu items during the show or they will–honestly, I don’t know. My Helium go-to is a plate of mozzarella sticks and a glass of iced tea, which are both usually funnier, and have more years sober, than at least 80% of the comedians who come onstage. 

Shane Gillis happened to be the previous Philly’s Phunniest winner hosting that night. Prior to this, he and I maybe saw each other at a few open mics, with our sole exchange being “great set tonight.” It’s entirely possible that we didn’t know each other’s names. He came out on stage to warm up the crowd as I sat there in the front row and stuffed my face with $14.95 deep fried cheese.

At one point–and I assume this wasn’t part of his regular set–he glanced down at me and said, “Yo, those mozzarella sticks look pretty good.”

I nodded and held up the basket to him. “They are. Want one?”

(For the record, I think those 4 words of mine got a bigger laugh than anything I had actually tried to work into actual stand-up material at open mics).

“Yeah, OK,” Shane said, taking one and eating it onstage as he finished his set. “Thanks, dude.”

Not to brag or show anyone else in the Philly comedy community up, but that was my personal in-depth moment with THE Shane Gillis. I might not know him as well as his family, friends, fellow Philly comics who are actually good, or Twitter journalists, but I can say with absolute certainty that he likes mozzarella sticks (at least those served at Helium Comedy Club, anyway). 

And I have NO reservations about posting this on social media.

Now–well, not NOW, but this coming Saturday–this very same Shane Gillis is going to be hosting Saturday Night Live (which, unfortunately for him, isn’t MadTV). So if you happen to be in the live studio audience that night, or if television technology rapidly advances in the next few days, and you are enjoying the comedy that he has been working on ever since he was hitting local Philly open mic nights…offer him one of your mozzarella sticks.

by Mike Covers

After an entire year or two or fifty of daily bad news, some GOOD news finally slipped through the cracks last week: Jon Stewart has agreed to return as host of the Daily Show with Trevor Noah! At least on Mondays!

The longtime Comedy Central show having one of its most treasured hosts (Craig Kilborn) back for one day a week reminded me of my own brush with a late night program. Yes, whether you realize it or not (you don’t), I once appeared on Late Night with David Letterman. Needless to say, this was well before he retired only to agree to come back and host the show on Mondays only (I presume, here, that Letterman, Leno, Carson, etc. are all following Jon Stewart’s lead).

OK, maybe I didn’t appear on stage with Letterman per se, nor in any capacity where he was actually aware of my existence. But pfft, any old idiot can appear in THAT manner (proof: Justin Bieber) (and Jay Leno).

Rather, my good friend Ashley and I appeared in his live studio audience, something that only a mere 30 million other people have ever done! And if you pause the early January 2012 Late Show taping (which, of course, you taped) at just the right moment on a TV screen the size of Idaho, you just might see our faces, unless something on your screen is big enough to block them, like a molecule.

The credit for our tickets goes to Ashley, who was smart enough to order them ahead of time (1987). Once we arrived in New York for a week-long visit, we lined up outside of the Ed Sullivan Theater in midtown Manhattan, that historic New York City landmark named after one of America’s most beloved television personalities, Joe Theater. Once inside the lobby, we were met by an overly enthusiastic page; she was the kind of person who would be perky at a funeral. 

“Now, whenever Dave makes a joke, I want you to LAUGH as hard and as loud as you can so we can all hear it!” she emphasized over and over. Basically, we were instructed to respond to Letterman’s barrage of dad jokes with hearty guffaws that you only see people emitting during first-time viewings of “The Room.” This page’s job was essentially to whittle our humor expectations down so much that we’d collapse from laughter at ANYTHING Letterman said, including “We’ll be right back.”

The man has been billed as a comedian for longer than I, personally, have been alive and he still needs a highly-caffeinated intern to order us to laugh at his jokes? My friend Rachel has been doing comedy for less than half that time and causes me and many others to elicit GENUINE laughter WITHOUT the assistance of interns.

After standing in the cramped lobby for what felt like 10 hours (but was, in reality, only closer to 9 1/2 hours), we were ushered into the actual studio. Row after row of uncomfortable red chairs stretched from the back of the chilly room up to the main stage, where the bright lights of the fake Manhattan skyline illuminated the backdrop. Expensive cameras were mounted all over the place, and the ceiling appeared to have been constructed entirely of lights; there may not have been an actual ceiling beyond them. After we were all settled down into our seats, things got underway.

First, we were treated to a warm-up comedian who, even though the cameras had yet to roll, definitely told his fellow stand-up comedian buddies that he “was on Letterman.” After he left, David Letterman himself pulled out of whatever staff member he was fucking that day and stepped onto the stage. He welcomed us and told a few jokes, at which all of us LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD. During his set, he discovered that there was a newlywed couple in the audience who had flown all the way to New York from their native Australia for their honeymoon. He bantered with them for a little bit before disappearing backstage.

As the crew members got themselves into place, Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra wandered out and took their seats at the far side of the stage. They played a few snippets of classic rock songs, which we enjoyed, even though we were all blinded by the overhead lights bouncing off of Shaffer’s terrifically bald head.

After ensuring that most of us were still conscious and that, once again, this was NOT “The Tonight Show,” the opening credits rolled. As Letterman bounded back onto the stage, one of the cameras swung across the audience, effectively capturing Ashley and I in our network TV debut. Despite the honor, we decided to let the aging comedian with bad teeth have the spotlight that day. We’re generous like that. After all, the poor bastard has interns begging us to laugh at his jokes.

Letterman performed the opening monologue which, as is tradition, deviated as much as it could from any possible definition of the word “monologue.” It included video clips, banter with Shaffer, banter with the Australian newlyweds, a space shuttle launch, etc. At one point, poor Dave suffered every veteran comedian’s worst nightmare, one that is worse than bombing on stage or none of your “bringers” showing up: his cue card guy screwed up. Ever the professional, Letterman recovered quickly and, like the kind-hearted soul that he is, reamed the cue card guy out while a video clip played. In response, we all LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD.

Afterwards, we “went to commercial,” which is a lot different when you’re in the studio audience. Instead of being forced to sit through 5 minutes’ worth of car commercials and CBS sitcom promos, we just sat there awkwardly while Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra played a number. Letterman, meanwhile, retreated to his desk and glued himself to his computer as a swarm of producers, stagehands, interns, space shuttle officials, etc. descended upon him. We had no idea what they were all doing; maybe they were serving as a collective human shield against any sudden violent outbursts by the cue card guy, who kept his distance.

Soon, we “came back” from commercial and Dave welcomed his first guest: Senator John McCain who, at the time, was still alive. I think. Keep in mind that this was the beginning of 2012, years after McCain’s loss to Barack Obama in the 2008 Presidential election. At this point in time, he was about as relevant as, say, Steve Guttenberg (McCain, that is) (OK, also Letterman). During the interview, Dave alternated between discussion about the then-upcoming 2012 Presidential election and pointing out to McCain that there was an Australian newlywed couple in the audience.

The interview was followed by one of Letterman’s “crazy” skits, which is what had attracted a younger and more lucrative demographic to his program in the 1980s. So what was crazy Dave going to do this time? Submerge himself into a tank of water while wearing a suit covered in Alka-seltzer pills again? Maybe throw valuable objects off the roof of the Ed Sullivan Theatre?

Nope: this was even crazier than that: he was going to have food delivered to him!

Seriously. A brand new Steak & Shake restaurant had opened next door and he called to order food for himself and Shaffer. A delivery kid promptly brought the bag right up to Letterman’s desk and, in gratitude, Letterman granted him a quick interview. During the banter, the delivery kid revealed a lot about himself, such as how, exactly, he would react when he was told that there was a newlywed Australian couple there on their honeymoon. Ashley, I, and the non-Australian newlyweds in the audience naturally LAUGHED AS HARD AS WE COULD. WE LAUGHED SO HARD BLOOD CAME OUT OF OUR EYES.

The episode was closed out by some no-name country music singer. Whatever he performed was completely unmemorable; we would have preferred to see the Steak & Shake delivery kid sing instead. Or John McCain.

After the musical number and a quick plug of the singer’s new CD, Dave thanked the audience and disappeared backstage to resume fucking whoever he saw first (possibly John McCain). The perky intern gleefully told us to get the hell out of the theater, but not before gifting every single audience member vouchers for a free meal at Steak & Shake. Ashley and I later sampled the food there; it was the first real joke we had witnessed all day.

So, as Jon Stewart ushers us back into a golden age of late night television, at least on Mondays, I’ll always remember that one time that Letterman was generous enough to have me on his show. And if he knew just how gracious I was for that, I’m certain that he WOULD LAUGH AS HARD AS HE COULD.

Get ready for a hilarious and insightful journey into the world of comedy as comedians Julia Scotti and Cathy Caldwell welcome a special guest on this episode. Joining them is none other than Comedy Historian Tommy Moore, who takes us on a fascinating trip down memory lane with his personal history with the legendary Redd Foxx. As Tommy shares his experiences, get ready to laugh and be entertained with some fantastic stories about the iconic “Three Reds.” It’s a comedic rendezvous you won’t want to miss!