The consistently great thing about Comedy Night @ The Zoetic is that you literally start laughing when the comic arrives on stage and don't stop laughing until they depart. It's quite miraculous that someone can do that to us. Is it a trance or are we just so ready and in need of a laugh that it's like turning on a tap. Call it a human relief valve perhaps. We spend our days stressfully toiling over all the things that need taking care of and then sit us in a theatre setting and... schplurt! The valve gets released and we bubble over with happiness. But context is important too. You have to be in a place where you feel good and surrounded by like-minded people to feel comfortable enough to laugh out loud. You have to feel like you belong or, at the very least, open. I've been to small comedy shows out of town where you feel like if you don't laugh you're going to get picked on by the comedian. Which is especially troubling when the comedian isn't that funny. Nothing like feeling pressured to laugh at a comedy show.
There was none of that with Debra! The laughs came often and bountifully... and naturally. And I theorize that this is when comics become artists. When you can fill a room and make the laughs unanimously effortless for your audience, you've reached comedic arts level. Debra DiGiovanni is there.
Thank you Debra DiGiovanni and Ted Morris, her hilarious opener. Boy, was he on fire. This veterinarian turned comic opened a whole new world of material with his day job antics. Debra was as self-deprecatingly funny as you can imagine (and I mean that in the best way possible). She's a gem and her stage manner just makes you love her even more.
We're still laughing. Thanks.