August 19 is my “comedy birthday” and typically on the day I’ll reflect on my progress and what I’ve learned in the last year, tyipcally resulting in a post here on this site.

Not this year, though. This year marked 7 years and I’ve given plenty of thought to the matter, but my conclusions weren’t comfortable and I’m still trying to write this post over a month later.

Typically I’ll have a think about where I’m at and how far I’ve come. I’ll set goals, which are almost always about developing skills. I don’t really have career aspirations.

As I’ve said elsewhere, I came into comedy too late to think about developing a career. Look at most of the giants in comedy, the ones who’ve achieved massive success, and you’ll quickly appreciate that you need to be ok with the idea of putting in 20 years before you’ve earned a right to expect anything back. Some of the bigger names around got there sooner but the massive ones mostly had their breakthrough at about the 20 year mark.

I didn’t try stand up until I was in my fifties, and I’ve got no ambitions to “make it” in my seventies. Or now, really, if in entails touring and stuff. I’ve only ever looked done comedy for the love of the game. I didn’t aim to get rich and famous by doing comedy. I aimed to be a comedian. So I generally don’t measure my progress in career terms.

If I was measuring that sort of thing, now would be the time to take some kind of giant leap. To do a tour or move to a bigger city and trade my day job for an undemanding part time one, or something like that. But I’m not willing to do any of that.

I’d be very happy to continue at a set career level, with the only progression being skill level. But the scene is, like all evolving and changing scenes, also has it’s own timeline. As I write this, I can hear some of you asking whether I’m talking about my local scene, or the wider global comedy scene. My answer is “both.”

Yes, both. A conclusion I’ve reached over the last 12 months is that local and general scenes are kind of a synecdoche. Sure, all scenes are slightly different from each other, but I find that the local scene tends to mirror what’s happening out there in the world.

It’s why I think Kurt Metzger, who I thought was a hilarious stand up comic 15-20 years ago but is now a crazy tinfoil-hat podcaster in the Rogansphere, was wrong when he went berserk this week “reacting” to Elephant Graveyard’s latest video. I recommend this video, even though it’s movie-length. It’s had 4.7 million views in the last 9 days, so you’ve probably seen it already.

Like all good disciples defending their benefactor, Metzger aggressively attacks any critics of Joe Rogan, the Rogansphere and the Austin comedy scene and opened his unhinged attack with his theory that Elephant Graveyard is Canadian and that Rogansphere critics are sponsored by the Canadian government to disrupt America’s freedom.

There’s no nice way to describe how fucking stupid that particular conspiracy is. Some of us might suggest that they, through their role in installing Trump as President, have already destabilized America more than Canada or anyone else ever could. The call is coming from inside the house, you fucking idiot.

But I digress. Metzger’s first argument was that nobody outside of America should ever criticize Rogan, his acolytes, their shitty network of right wing radicalizing podcasts, the Comedy Mothership and Kill Tony, etc, because what happens in America is nobody’s business. He still doesn’t know where Elephant Graveyard lives, by the way, so this is the literal construction of a straw man. But whatever.

As with every shitty thing that happens in America, their comedy scene does actually affect stuff outside of America. And while we might not get a right to vote about America, we do have a right to an opinion about America. And guess what, America? We have free speech too. Hell, we even have freedom of thought.

But my point is mainly that the shitty things that happen in the Austin comedy scene Rogan created affect comedy globally. I see their bullshit mirrored in my own tiny scene at the other end of the planet, as room runner try to copy their vibes and tropes. I’ve seen every local open mic discuss incorporating “bucket pulls” and other Kill Tonyisms.

The post gig comedian discussions all mirror the same stupid alt right talking points of the associated podcasts – shadowboxing against an imaginary government-sponsored “wokeness” dictatorship that enforces pronoun use and allegedly banned our right to talk, just like the unnamed town in Footloose outlawed dancing. It never happened, but if you tell any of them that they’ll say “Yes it did! Look at Canada! Do your own research!” and go back to talking about how they can’t talk.

So yeah, that’s what I mean when I say I don’t feel like engaging with either scene. Things ebb and flow, and even the most committed local comedy enthusiasts wistfully talk about how much they miss our active and vibrant scene four years ago, say that nothing’s been the same since venues like Molly Malones ceased being central to it.

And sure, the venues are part of it. But the tone is another. I remember when our open mic scene consisted of comics trying to work out how to write jokes that made audiences laugh, instead of just make their peers impressed at how brutal and savage their edgelord-ery is.

The vibe changes. The comics change. Some of my favourite local comics, I haven’t seen in ages. I’ve run into a few of them recently and mentioned that I was feeling burned out on it, and not experiencing the joy I used to. Apparently I’m not alone. Two echoed this sentiment to me, and one of them said he stopped doing it at all at around the start of this year, and isn’t missing any of it except good times from a few years ago.

And that’s more or less how I’m feeling lately. Truthfully, it’s a feeling that’s been gnawing at me for a long time. It hasn’t escaped my attention that I opened this year with a whinge about an annoying experience at a show, and that this sort of thing has informed all of my posts in 2026. I’d love to be offering tips and tricks but this year I’m mostly annoyed at shitty local shows, the shitty global scene, and how shitty more Netflix specials are lately.

While I’m on the topic of shitty Netflix specials, this video does a good job of aggregating reviewer and audience sentiment to make a list of the ten worst comedy specials over the last decade. Interestingly they’re mostly on Netflix and out of the ten, two of them are from Tony fucking Hinchcliffe. Seriously, fuck that guy. If he’s your idea of what comedy is, have a fucking talk with yourself.

I’m not going to automatically blame everyone else. I’m not letting shitty anti woke comedy, inappropriate venues and other factors completely off the hook, but I also need to examine myself if I want to know why I’ve lost that loving feeling over the last 12 months. Because it’s true. I’m not as excited about writing comedy, or performing it.

Time for an overshare. I’ve mentioned before that I’ve struggled with depression for most of my life, but I’ve always assumed you don’t want the specifics. For what it’s worth, I win at the struggle in terms of being functional, maintaining employment and relationships and actually perform at a pretty high level, making my situation difficult for many of you to believe, and hard to claim as an impediment when I suppress it and function relatively well. But if you are interested, my personal depression is shaped by big doses of anxiety and anhedonia.

Knowing this, if I’m not getting joy from something like music or comedy or whatever, I’ll generally blame the anhedonia first. I’ll figure it’s my shortcomings, my own inability to enjoy and appreciate stuff. I do work on that. I’m constantly focused on gratitude.

But ultimately it doesn’t matter who’s fault it is. If I’m not enjoying something, I probably shouldn’t do it. Nothing good comes from trying to force it. Frankly, I haven’t really enjoyed doing any aspect of the comedy stuff in about a year. That might be a phase I’m going through, so I don’t think it would be prudent to definitely break up with comedy, but for right now I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep doing it and hoping something changes and nobody notices.

So yeah, I’m going to take a break for a while. I’m not saying never, but I I definitely need the break. There’s nothing more insufferable than a bitter comedian. Except, of course, for Tony fucking Hinchcliffe.

Some of this is because my attention and enthusiasm have been focused elsewhere. I’m writing gamebooks in the horror genre. I started writing one in October last year, published it in July and am currently writing my second.

Horror and comedy aren’t that different, actually. It’s all about tension and release. An understanding of Benign Violation Theory helps with horror writing. And all the other things you learn from comedy about timing and word economy all come in useful in the writing world. I spent seven years trying to apply principles and lessons from all disciplines to stand up comedy, and now I’m using some of comedy’s in narrative writing.

I’m enjoying it a lot, much more than I’ve enjoyed comedy in the last year. I’ve joined the Australasian Horror Writers Association (AHWA) and the Gamebook Authors Guild. If you’re interested in what I’m doing with horror writing and gamebooks, check out my other website for that stuff. There’s a mailing list and blog there too. You’d be welcome to join me for that ride.

It’s not an end, and I don’t feel obligated to make it official or even announce anything, but I don’t want anyone thinking I just failed or dropped off the radar or anything. It’s typical of me that I usually have about 20 half-written blog posts and that’s currently true, so I’m sure not stopping this site any time soon. Apparently people still enjoy it. But I’m definitely scaling back the shows, and don’t feel obligated to show up any anything I don’t feel like doing.

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Check out Uncanny Agency! Gamebooks for grown-ups, by Sean Cooper

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