Gilly and Cheese

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.