The goal of the tour was to observe comedy coming back immediately after the pandemic. Has it changed in some fundamental way? Has America? The only way to really find out was to set off with a cameraman and document the experience.
There is a beast out there, and we are trying to kill it. We stand in silence, listening for a single sound that may give us the advantage. Alex is completely immersed, giving me hand signals and mouthing words. And I am doing everything in my power not to laugh.
My task was to teach myself to skate in a week. If nothing else, it’ll get me out of the house and back into my comfort zone of feeling like an impostor. And honestly, my bar for accomplishment is pretty low—I’ll be happy with not killing myself.
Off the clock, I’m 37 years old, happily married, with unsold copies of my novel collecting dust on my bookshelf.
On the clock, I’m someone else. I call myself simply “rat catcher”—even though I’m often summoned to rid people’s homes of every other pest you can imagine. For bug killers like me, this time of year is the big cash harvest.
Besides the tripling costs to get a crop tested for sale to a dispensary, the Oregon Health Authority has enforced new $200 “annual grow site fees,” and medical growers are quickly facing stiffer competition as most shops obtain recreational licenses and start buying exclusively from recreationally licensed growers.