Jason Love

Editor's note: Local funny guy Jason Love, who began writing humorous stories and columns for The Star in 2004, gave up his newspaper gig three years ago to devote time to an equally lucrative comedy job, but one that lets him hang out in Iowa from time to time. What happened and what's happening? We invited him to tell the story himself.

What happened to me? Well, when I was 3 I fell out of my highchair ... Oh, where I have been? It may be easier to say where I haven't been. These past few years I've done stand-up in almost every state but Texas (you don't want to know what happened in Texas).

When I'm home I wake up in Camarillo with Patti Hutchings, who deserves a medal for putting up with me. She has slept in rental cars, gone without showers ... one time she accompanied me to HEMET! The locals brushed their tooth for the big night out.

Patti's a huge help on the road. For starters, I can use the diamond lane without blowing up the inflatable doll. Also, while I'm on stage Patti keeps track of audience reaction and plots my jokes into one of three categories: happy face, neutral face and crickets. You'd be surprised at how many jokes go to the crickets. Or if you've read my column, maybe you wouldn't.

"One in 20," says Seinfeld. "That's how many work."

I have tried more than 300 one-liners and to this day use only 12. Here are a few that tanked recently:

- Why are there signs that read, "No shoplifting"? Are there places where it's OK?

- Could the word "lisp" be any harder to pronounce for people who have one?

- What do you call a fly with no wings? A walk?

- If you catch your son with an S&M magazine, do you spank him?

When I get home, I review Patti's notes in my Joke Repair Lab — the back of her SUV — sealing myself off as a courtesy to others. "Writing" these days takes place at the top of my lungs. I play guitar in my act, so I've been taking lessons on the Internet. Right now I'm learning scales from a guy in India. If I'm not careful, I'll end up doing my whole act to the sounds of Ravi Shankar.

Patti visits me in the car, bless her heart. Last week she fell asleep while I played Johnny Cash over and over and over: "Love is a burnin' thing / and it makes a fiery ring / I found myself a girl for hire / Now, by God, my pee is on fire."

Yeah, my parents are proud.

Last year I worked 40 weeks with Westlake Village comedian Craig Shoemaker, who travels more than some commercial pilots. Craig and I pushed through rain and sheep and snow. The sheep were blocking a road in Idaho. Or Iowa. Idawoha. It becomes a blur after a while. At one point I had in my wallet four different hotel keys and couldn't remember the room number for any of them.

In Edmonton, Canada, I had to run, guitar in hand, through 30-degree hail to The Comic Strip. I took the stage with chafed eyeballs and boogercicles. The Edmonton Mall, by the way, has three McDonald's, an ice-skating rink, a pirate ship and sea lions. Sea lions are indigenous to Canadian shopping malls.

Last month I did a run of shows with Andy Dick's son, Lucas. We pulled up at one casino to find the Jumbotron advertising "The Love Dick Tour." So it goes.

In Montana I got pulled over for speeding and had to pay the ticket right there on the side of the road. Like a Tijuana shakedown. The officer arrived at my window with credit card swiper. I didn't know what to say. "Can I use my frequent speeder miles?"

While The Man debited my account, Lucas got out of the car to vomit, and I had to explain that we were not, in fact, tripping on meth. Lucas had ordered 99-cent tacos from a place called Taco Johns, and what could be more authentic than Mexican food in Montana? From an ethnic guy like John. For a dollar.

My toughest nights came in Alabama, where they don't take kindly to metrosexuals. One time I walked into a gas station and asked if they had any fresh fruit. The guy looked at me like, "Just you."

I got to play for 1,000 people at The Canyon Club in Agoura , then the following night for three people at Coffee Bean. I've been ushered by limousine to the Hilton and also buzzed into the Hollywood Apartments by a group of elderly immigrants were singing folk songs. In Russian. Their only language.

That's the worst — when they look at you with tilted heads like the RCA dog. You can almost hear their thoughts: "Look how much work it takes to bore me."

Recently I entertained second-graders at the Ventura Charter School.

Jason: "Why do gorillas have big fingers?"

Entire class in unison: "Because they have such big nostrils!"

In Tahoe I married a couple on the north pier — got ordained and everything. You should've seen the faces when I, the minister, walked to the altar play - Ventura County Star

Editor's note: Local funny guy Jason Love, who began writing humorous stories and columns for The Star in 2004, gave up his newspaper gig three years ago to devote time to an equally lucrative comedy job, but one that lets him hang out in Iowa from time to time. What happened and what's happening? We invited him to tell the story himself.

What happened to me? Well, when I was 3 I fell out of my highchair ... Oh, where I have been? It may be easier to say where I haven't been. These past few years I've done stand-up in almost every state but Texas (you don't want to know what happened in Texas).

When I'm home I wake up in Camarillo with Patti Hutchings, who deserves a medal for putting up with me. She has slept in rental cars, gone without showers ... one time she accompanied me to HEMET! The locals brushed their tooth for the big night out.

Patti's a huge help on the road. For starters, I can use the diamond lane without blowing up the inflatable doll. Also, while I'm on stage Patti keeps track of audience reaction and plots my jokes into one of three categories: happy face, neutral face and crickets. You'd be surprised at how many jokes go to the crickets. Or if you've read my column, maybe you wouldn't.

"One in 20," says Seinfeld. "That's how many work."

I have tried more than 300 one-liners and to this day use only 12. Here are a few that tanked recently:

- Why are there signs that read, "No shoplifting"? Are there places where it's OK?

- Could the word "lisp" be any harder to pronounce for people who have one?

- What do you call a fly with no wings? A walk?

- If you catch your son with an S&M magazine, do you spank him?

When I get home, I review Patti's notes in my Joke Repair Lab — the back of her SUV — sealing myself off as a courtesy to others. "Writing" these days takes place at the top of my lungs. I play guitar in my act, so I've been taking lessons on the Internet. Right now I'm learning scales from a guy in India. If I'm not careful, I'll end up doing my whole act to the sounds of Ravi Shankar.

Patti visits me in the car, bless her heart. Last week she fell asleep while I played Johnny Cash over and over and over: "Love is a burnin' thing / and it makes a fiery ring / I found myself a girl for hire / Now, by God, my pee is on fire."

Yeah, my parents are proud.

Last year I worked 40 weeks with Westlake Village comedian Craig Shoemaker, who travels more than some commercial pilots. Craig and I pushed through rain and sheep and snow. The sheep were blocking a road in Idaho. Or Iowa. Idawoha. It becomes a blur after a while. At one point I had in my wallet four different hotel keys and couldn't remember the room number for any of them.

In Edmonton, Canada, I had to run, guitar in hand, through 30-degree hail to The Comic Strip. I took the stage with chafed eyeballs and boogercicles. The Edmonton Mall, by the way, has three McDonald's, an ice-skating rink, a pirate ship and sea lions. Sea lions are indigenous to Canadian shopping malls.

Last month I did a run of shows with Andy Dick's son, Lucas. We pulled up at one casino to find the Jumbotron advertising "The Love Dick Tour." So it goes.

In Montana I got pulled over for speeding and had to pay the ticket right there on the side of the road. Like a Tijuana shakedown. The officer arrived at my window with credit card swiper. I didn't know what to say. "Can I use my frequent speeder miles?"

While The Man debited my account, Lucas got out of the car to vomit, and I had to explain that we were not, in fact, tripping on meth. Lucas had ordered 99-cent tacos from a place called Taco Johns, and what could be more authentic than Mexican food in Montana? From an ethnic guy like John. For a dollar.

My toughest nights came in Alabama, where they don't take kindly to metrosexuals. One time I walked into a gas station and asked if they had any fresh fruit. The guy looked at me like, "Just you."

I got to play for 1,000 people at The Canyon Club in Agoura , then the following night for three people at Coffee Bean. I've been ushered by limousine to the Hilton and also buzzed into the Hollywood Apartments by a group of elderly immigrants were singing folk songs. In Russian. Their only language.

That's the worst — when they look at you with tilted heads like the RCA dog. You can almost hear their thoughts: "Look how much work it takes to bore me."

Recently I entertained second-graders at the Ventura Charter School.

Jason: "Why do gorillas have big fingers?"

Entire class in unison: "Because they have such big nostrils!"

In Tahoe I married a couple on the north pier — got ordained and everything. You should've seen the faces when I, the minister, walked to the altar play - Ventura County Star