This week, we’re highlighting 24 talented writers and performers for Vulture’s annual list “The Comedians You Should and Will Know.” Our goal is to introduce a wider audience to the talent that has the comedy community and industry buzzing. (You can read more about our methodology at the link above.) We asked the comedians on the list to answer a series of questions about their work, performing, goals for the future, and more. Next up is MANDAL.
Tell us a story from your childhood that you think might explain why you ended up becoming a comedian.
When I was in seventh grade, we did a play about the Harlem Renaissance. I had one line in the whole play, and instead of saying it, I just did the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince. Huge pop from the audience.
If you were immortalized as a cartoon character, what would your outfit be?
That’s easy: a Kangol 504 cap, 3XB Tommy Bahama floral shirt, and a classic Stacy Adams fisherman cognac-color alligator sandal.
What’s your proudest moment/achievement of your comedy career so far?
I know this is a lame answer but, honestly, whenever someone tells me about a hard time they were experiencing and that somehow I made their day a little less difficult. So much of this can be so self-indulgent, and it feels good to know every now and then that somebody else gets something out of this besides me.
Which comedian’s career trajectory would you most like to follow?
Clifford “T.I./TIP” Harris.
Tell us everything about your worst show ever. (This can involve venue, audience, other acts on the lineup, anything!)
I’ve had my fair share of awful interactions with audience members, and most of them are absolutely my fault. My worst work to date is when I used to tell a joke about My 600 lb. Life. It was a newer joke at the time, and I’m trying to figure out how to get into it, so I decided to unnecessarily ask the audience who watches the show. This lady responds, and instead of saying “You look like the type of person who would watch the show, considering you are the target demographic for TLC television programming” — meaning she was a mid-30s suburban woman with a mid-30s suburban husband; very lighthearted jab (to me) — I just say, “You look like it.” And everyone in the audience, including her, thought I was calling her fat.
Now, of course that was not my intention, so it takes me a while to process why everyone in the room gasped and started mugging me. I hear a comic from behind the curtain say, “Oh no, Mandal!” and then it finally clicked. I spent the rest of the set apologizing to this lady and was able to squeeze out a big laugh at the end and got offstage. Everything should be cool (not really) at this point, but then a comic later on in the night decides to bring the situation back up and says, “Ain’t nothing wrong with being a big girl. Big girls make some noise!” And now her husband is full-blown red and ready to fight by the end of the show.
Afterward, I saw her outside crying and I tried to apologize again, but of course they weren’t having it. Rightfully so. I mean, she bought a ticket to a comedy show in the hopes of having a nice laugh, but got met with a bunch of folks calling her fat. Truly a rough night. I think about it at least twice a month.
What have you learned about your own joke-writing process that you didn’t know when you started?
For a long time, I used to try to write jokes that were insightful or clever or whatever. Now I just focus on whatever is silly. I be trying to have a good time, man. I can’t read!
What’s the biggest financial hurdle you’ve encountered since becoming a comedian?
I had this bad habit of finally getting a good-paying gig after a long time of fasting and would immediately start acting up. One time I bought some $200 Oakley snow goggles. I have never been to a place or done an activity where those would have been applicable. Very next month, I’m praying the rent man don’t lock the door on me.
At the end of the movie 8 Mile, Eminem’s character, B-Rabbit, starts his final battle rap by dissing himself so the person he’s battling has nothing left to attack. How would you roast yourself so the other person would have nothing to say?
Aye, man. I’m not going to lie. That breath will heat up and activate from time to time.
When it comes to your comedy opinions — about material, performing, audience, trends you want to kill/revive, the industry, etc. — what hill will you die on?
I don’t believe in the age-old comedy idiom “Funny is funny.” While I do believe a lot of the best jokes speak to the human condition in a way that every person can understand and identify with it, that does not undermine the idea that we are unique with our own interests, sensibilities, etc. So sometimes we’re not all going to find the same thing funny, and that is okay. A person can identify as a music lover and very much so hate country music (I’m that person).
I know a dude out of Ypsilanti, Michigan, who was a well-respected herpetologist in the Midwest for like 20 years. He was finally able to retire and do stand-up comedy full time because he does shows at various reptile expos and conventions across the country. Many of us would not pay our hard-earned money to see somebody make jokes exclusively about lizards and such, but those folks would/do, and I’m glad someone is able to provide that service for them (fiction). At the same time, I do be bombing, though, so it does make sense why I would have a take like this.
What is the best comedy advice, and then the worst comedy advice, you’ve ever received?
Best advice: Have fun.
Worst advice: Stop yelling.
More From This Series
- Eagle Witt Plans to Keep It Diabolical
- Emil Wakim’s Parents Finally Understand His Job Now
- Gianmarco Soresi Demands Inclusive Bullying in Comedy
- Veronika Slowikowska’s Got Magic to Do
