Outlaw immigrants? Then No Baklava for Trump!

Stop hypocrisy by living by the laws you make

 

Our Congress refuses to pass laws on gun control as they voted down 4 bills today.

While everyone is talking about Orlando, I am thinking of another state, Ohio. In a few weeks, Republicans will flock there but although Ohio is an open carry state, no guns will be allowed at the convention. Right out of the gate, Donald Trump talked about the wall he would build if elected and in fact, he has already built one for himself.  His wall of high security at Trump Tower, his bodyguards, his private jets means he doesn't have to be in around crazy people who have assault rifles, but the rest of us do.

There certainly wasn't a wall of protection around anyone who died from a bullet in a movie theater, a high school, a church, a college campus, or, most recently, a nightclub.

Sobbing along with others in my Venice Beach community, we listened as they read the 49 names of the mostly gay Latinos gunned down in Orlando. We hugged each other and recommitted to the fight to end easy access to assault rifles that allow a mentally ill person to shoot hundreds in minutes.

I was sure that this would be the event that pushed our leaders to do something to stop this gun insanity. Instead, I hear I hear Donald Trump’s solution is building walls and preventing immigrants from entering this country.

You know the Golden Rule? Treat others as you would want to be treated? I have a new one. The people who make the laws have to live by the laws they create.

Strange as they say that everyone carrying guns makes us safer. Following that logic, concealed weapons SHOULD be allowed at their convention. They want them in schools, then why not at their convention or, for that matter, in Congress?

Similarly those who refuse to raise the minimum wage should be paid like the employees at Walmart. And we all know that the clerks work a hell of lot harder than our Congress people.

They don’t like Obamacare? Cancel their free medical insurance provided by taxpayers and let them try to get insurance with a preexisting condition.

You don’t support Black Lives Matter, minorities or gays? Then you can listen only to white people music. That’s right, bop along to an accordion solo. And, have a straight person do your hair (I’m sure that’s the explanation for Donald’s “every day is a bad hair day”).

You want to build walls that keep out immigrants? Then you don’t get to eat Greek or Ethiopian food, delicious Korean-Mexican short-rib tacos or amazing Pasta Fogioli at that new Italian restaurant direct from Naples. Enjoy your can of SpaghettiOs.

Let the lawmakers live with the consequences of the laws they support. Maybe that will teach them the contributions foreigners have made to our culture, and they might be more open to building bridges, not walls.

Sign the Petition: "Ban Assault Weapons Now" 

What do you think? Please add your comments.

Getting Depression to Move Out and You Move On

Part 4 in a 4 part series on Depression

View others in this series:
Part 1: "Are Comedians More Depressed?"
Part 2: "When Depression Visits and Stays"
Part 3: "Do We Have Any Control Over Depression?"

Mr. D. was firmly planted in my being, but I was determined to unseat him.

Since I started writing about depression I’ve been inundated with well-wishers giving me solutions, including: meditation, MDMA, exercise, various TED talks, and moving to join a cult. I do appreciate the intent behind all my readers, and since exercise didn’t involve packing for a trip to be in a cult, I put on my Target tights, gathered my dogs and went out for a jog, moving slowly enough so that someone on crutches could whiz past me. I kept going, waiting for a runner’s high. It never came. But, something else happened that changed everything.

I ran past a man walking his dog and my dog’s leash got tangled around his leg. He bellowed at me, “God damn it!”

The force of his anger shocked me. It was excessive. All that was going on was two leashes getting involved. I quickly untangled mine, apologizing, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” over and over again.
Glaring at me with hateful eyes, he kept yelling, “God damn you!”

I hadn’t run more than half a block before I ducked into an alley and collapsed in a puddle of tears. We all have our limits. Both the external world and my inner world were conspiring and yelling at me. But, this time, I recognized those angry eyes. I also noted the voice was familiar. It belonged to my father, drunk and screaming at 6-year-old me for spilling milk at the dinner table, “God damn it! You are worthless, worthless.” In that moment, I found out who Mr. D was.

Sobbing, I continued to sit in the alley. This was no movie star cry. It was ugly and heaving. I thought about my father, about all the angry old people, and that horrible angry man. As a child, I wasn’t allowed to cry. Now I could let it all out. I comforted myself by wrapping my arms around my torso. My dogs caught on and licked my face. Somehow I felt lighter when I got up. I was feeling again.
I continued my jog around the golf course. In the distance, I saw the angry man walking towards me. My inclination was to go another way, but an inner voice challenged that, asking, “Why change where you are going?” It was a voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. Kind. Strong. Reasonable. It was the voice I heard when doing standup comedy, the one I used to make sure that the hecklers in the audience didn’t have the final say. It was the voice that had my back, the one I could count on now to deal with the angry man.

With my head held high, I looked directly at him and said, “Have a good day.” Saying this simple positive phrase was a triumph. I didn’t let him turn me angry. I realized that his anger had nothing to do with me, and my sadness had nothing to do with him. And in that moment, the course of my personal emotional history shifted. People do and can trigger the past, but it has nothing to do with who I truly am in the present. And today, in this this expression of positivity, another angry person didn’t get to have the final word.

That night, I woke up while it was still dark, stunned to discover the voice that had been telling me I didn’t deserve to live was gone. Mr. D had left the building, replaced by the voice of quiet. I could hear and enjoy the quiet snoring of my beloved dogs. The birds welcoming the dawn. And I was pleased to again feel a sense of peace, something that had been eluding me for a long time.

It’s now my 3-month anniversary of celebrating life. My energy has returned. Mr. D has come back, but it’s temporary lodging and he no longer hangs around for long. I uploaded an app that tracks moods that helps keep Mr D at bay. I’ve stopped being ashamed of depression because I understand how much it has given me. Depression has escalated my power of empathy. It’s magnified my inner strength. It’s made me accept that life is not a series happy events, but rather it’s a series of disappointments where we learn how to transform messes to successes. Happiness is not delivered free of charge, but realized.

Regardless of which voice is in my head at any moment, I’m grateful that I am again able to feel something. Anything – sadness, anger, fatigue and joy. Mostly, I appreciate feeling love: the love coming from my friends, family, my dogs, and you, the readers who write me with your own stories.

Do We Have Any Control Over Depression?

When doing good deeds for others makes you feel even worse...

Part 3 in a 4 part series on Depression. View others in this series:

Part 1: Are Comedians More Depressed?

Part 2: When Depression Visits and Stays

Are we able to control depression? 
My readers might have noticed the huge gap between Part 2 and 3 of this series on my “winning the fight against depression.” After all, I had my happy ending totally mapped out when writing about it, which triggered a return visit from Dr. D. Maybe because I live in California, I likened it to the aftershock that inevitably happens shortly after you’ve returned all your tchotchkes to the shelf when you’re convinced an earthquake has ended. Or, as they like to say in Hollywood, I had a sequel.

I thought I was done writing about it, but when I was speaking at a Toastmaster event in Las Vegas, a woman came over and let me know how surprised she was that someone she perceived as being successful and funny dealt with the same condition she had. She thanked me and said, “Because you wrote about yours, I’m stopped being secretive about mine. And that’s helped.”




That made me think I might be on to something. Is this the new “coming out?” It might be harder to



admit to being depressed than being gay. Depression hasn’t acquired any cache. There are gay role models, stars, musicians. Gays get parades. There are no Zoloft-sponsored Depressed Pride Days.

Some of you have suggested I look into childhood trauma to see if there’s a connection. I want to let you know: I have had therapy, EMDR, primal scream, exercised and cut out sugar. I took Landmark training, Quested, did Burning Man, took drugs and stopped taking them. When all that failed, I wondered if I was too self-absorbed and considered doing charity work. Maybe Mr. D would leave me alone if I were more of a do-gooder. I pictured how my new friends would create a ripple effect of happiness in my life as they gushed with gratitude. When my energy returned, I might even be able to write a book titled, “Curing Depression by Giving.”

I rushed to volunteer to deliver meals to those who couldn’t get to 7-Eleven. I got my schedule, loaded up the car with meals that looked like the bottom of a shoe with runny baby poop on top. No matter, these poor, elderly people, living on meager funds in a tiny apartment were pleased to have company, regardless of the quality of the food. I would be the person to change their lives.

On my first delivery I double checked the address as I couldn’t possibly be delivering meals to this luxury high rise, right on the beach in Santa Monica. I buzzed the video intercom and was escorted by a security guard through marble floored hallways, past the indoor and outdoor swimming pools, the exercise room with a TV on every treadmill, to the apartment on the 14th floor. When I knocked on the door, I heard a man yell, “God damn it, who is there?”

“It’s your meal delivery,” I said, trying to keep my voice cheery.

“God damn it, just open the door!”

Opening the door, I saw the most exquisite view of the Santa Monica Bay. But that was overshadowed by a ghastly stench and a disturbing amount of clutter, so much that the door opened only part way as it was blocked by stacks of newspapers, magazines, and take-out containers. A disembodied voice from the next room screamed, “Just leave the food in the tray and leave, God damn it.”

Nervous, I put the meal on top of a magazine with Nixon on the cover, and closed the door. OK… no cookies. No WWII stories. The next place would be better. In a Venice home, a long haired, Baby Boomer in tie-dyed screamed at me for not having a plastic bag to put the meal into. As he slammed the door in my face, I was the one apologizing.

My third stop was to a woman also living in squalor, but she seemed nice. There was no yelling. I tried to start a conversation and she said she was about to watch a TV show. On the screen I saw the DirecTV logo bouncing about. “Do you want me to turn it to a program?” I offered.

“No, I like watching this,” she replied.

I returned home even more depressed. From what I saw, getting older is like pouring Miracle Grow on one’s defects. Was this a glimpse into my own future? When does saving stuff turn into hoarding?

I found the answer and it is in the final blog of this series. Stay tuned and please post your dealings with Mr. D in the comments.

Sign up for Judy’s online free comedy workshops here.

6 Tips to Using Humor in the Workplace Without Losing Your Job

As a funny female business speaker, I gotta say-- Corporate America has truly become humor impaired. You know how it is; you’re in a meeting or hanging out in the office chatting with a co-worker. He makes a joke about an STD, which you find absolutely hysterical. And then, PANIC. What if his playful joke offended Susie Q from HR and you’re accused of workplace harassment and then you’ll get fired and your family will starve and you’ll all die!!! All because of this one joke!

As a humorist and corporate speaker, I punch up speeches that aren't going to be performed at a comedy club, but rather, at an 8 AM sobriety meeting. Goodbye swear words, references to God, and nipples. 

Here are the rules for joking in the workplace without getting HR on your… derriere. 

1. Don’t joke about other people’s religion, race, ethnicity, or sexuality. In other words, if your joke begins with, “A Jew, African American, and a gay man walk into a bar…” stop talking ASAP!

2. If somebody sends you a funny video that begins with NSFW— stop watching ASAP! It’s labeled ‘Not Safe For Work’ for a reason. Others can see the Game of Boobs video and will complain.

3. Play it safe and joke about yourself! Everybody else is already doing it, so join in on the self-mocking fun. That’s not a receding hairline – that’s a punch line. Although, careful not to poke fun at your muffin top while standing next to your overweight boss. She just might not appreciate it.

4. Be a "clean comedian." If you want to tell a few jokes while chatting to your coworkers in the break room, do have a collection of clean jokes memorized. That way, you won’t recite the joke you heard last night at the bar… “So there was this stripper and this pole and…”  Be sure to keep your jokes short. People are busy.

5. When you mess up or make a mistake and someone criticizes you, don’t get mad… get funny. How? By validating just how big of a jerk you are. You'll get laughs and keep your job.  A former student of mine recently wrote me that she used this very technique when a client criticized her work: “After reading this report your wrote, I can tell you're a complete idiot.” My student retorted, "Oh my God ('Gosh' in South Carolina), you're so smart! You figured out I was an idiot in just one minute!  It usually takes people three months to figure that out!” The client laughed. Tension gone. Account saved. 

6. But, do have snappy retorts when people say or do stupid things. Sometimes a great punch line is the best defense for an office heckler. For example, if someone is talking to me and staring at my chest, I'm going to say, "Hey buddy, if they talk back you can have them!" Zing! It makes the point without having to make it even weirder. 

(link is external)

Turning Life’s Messes Into Successes

Yesterday, I went boogie boarding with a friend, my credit cards and all our money tucked into a new, waterproof fanny pack. That’s right a one-piece suit, SPF 30 slathered body and fanny pack – hot!  After catching a fantastic wave and riding it to shore, I discovered the fanny pack hadn’t made it. It was dinner time and I had no money. A few miles from home, we were hungry, sandy, and broke. No Uber for us.

Source: cc-by-2.0

At first I panicked, but as we began our journey home, we stumbled a walkway with gorgeous gardens. Though I’ve lived in Venice Beach for 20 years, I had never known about this incredible street. Some people we ran into told us about their cats, their families, and their lives. Normally, I’m in a rush and this would annoy me. But tonight, I made new friends in the neighborhood that I can borrow stuff from. Then it got even better -- the fancy hot dog stand gave us free samples!  We got thirsty and since it was on 7/11 – 7/11 was giving out free Slushies! Free! What had been a mess turned into a wonderful life affirming adventure. Plus there was extra exercise. In addition to losing money, I lost weight!

As I wrote in my book, “The Message of You,(link is external)” you can’t spell MESSAGE without a MESS. Yet again, I was reminded that when life doesn’t go the way I want it to, there’s often a gift.

A few years ago, while recording my book for Audible, I stumbled over a word and flashed back to the embarrassment of having a speech impediment as a child. I was almost in tears as the director took me aside and told me, “Last week there was somebody very famous here recording his book. The three days it should have taken took him two weeks. Why?  Because he had such a severe speech impediment we had to do it over and over and over and over. That man's name is James Earl Jones.”

I asked, "What?  Darth Vader!  The voice of CNN?  A man who makes a living by his voice can't speak?" 

"Yes, he didn't speak until he was eight. Because of his speaking problem, we kept redoing it until it was perfect.”

I couldn’t believe it.

Then, he said something very wise, "Judy, we're not successful in spite of the messes in our life.  It's because of them.  If you didn't have a problem speaking, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it and become a professional speaker. You wouldn't have to work so hard." 

He’s right. Think about it. Some of our most successful people overcame difficult beginnings. The reason he created the happiest place on earth was probably because Walt Disney grew up in an alcoholic, abusive home.  Steve Jobs was adopted, disconnected from his family, and created gadgets that connect us all. Anybody notice that Dr. Phil, who wrote the bestselling book on weight loss, looks a little chubby?” I’m guessing his next book will be "Hair Care Tips for Men.” Or am I thinking of Donald Trump?  

OK… a little humor, but the point is if we refuse to let the messes define us, we can use them to our advantage. Your MESSage is in that story of your journey from mess to success.  When you tell THAT story, it’s The Message of You and lets everyone in on the meaning of your life.

Aerobic Laughing: A New Weight Loss Plan

Congratulations to Caitlyn Jenner. 

Looking at the upcoming Vanity Fair cover, I admired her courage to come out of shame and emerge as the person she was meant to be. We have all read about Bruce Jenner’s decades of living in a body that didn’t match who he knew himself to be. 

On some level, I can relate to that. With the risk of sounding shallow, I have had my own body image struggles and can identify with Caitlyn. I know this is far different from being transgender, but how often I have looked in the mirror and seen a stranger with belly fat and stretch marks. And, like my dogs, I, too, have nipples on my stomach. Inside was a skinny, glamorous woman, but nobody else was getting to see her.

Source: Courtesy of Cathryn Michon

One of the problems was my weight. It was always hard to shed those pounds. It only got worse after I turned 50, as my metabolism seemed to have taken an early retirement. I now have to jog five miles just to work off a tic-tac I ate in the 90’s. The only things that fit from my earlier years are my earrings. Like Vegas, what goes on in my body—stays in my body. 

I’d tried every diet, every pill, even Overeaters Anonymous—which doesn’t make sense—what’s so anonymous about it? You’re fat and everyone knows it. A lot of things didn’t work, but what finally did was laughing. The same techniques I used on stage as a standup comic proved to be fat fighters. Humor turned out to be the new secret weight loss method. You can literally laugh off your pounds.  

It’s no joke (excuse the pun)—laughing has been shown to boost your immune system and reduce both stress and physical pain. It also lowers your blood sugar levels. Dr. Helen Pilcher, a neuroscientist AND a comic (no, she doesn’t go by the name Shecky Pilcher), has found that laughing for one hour can burn up to 100 calories. And you don’t have to squeeze into spandex to laugh.

As soon as I stopped beating myself up about my body and started approaching food with a sense of humor, I lightened up—literally.

Here are a few steps to help you feel more confident, happier, and healthier:

1. Poke fun at your fat. When someone asked, “How are you?” instead of feeling ashamed of being overweight, I’d joke about it. “I’m only fifteen pounds away from what it says on my driver’s license.” Self-mocking is better than anything else for taking the heaviness out of the issue. 

2. Gain power over temptation. When you laugh at something, you have power over it. So rather than reach for that cookie, I take a picture of it. I put it on my phone. Let anyone show me a picture of a grandchild and I'll say, “I’ll show you something sweet.”

3. Have snappy comebacks for your inner heckler. As a standup comic, I know how to deal with drunk, abusive hecklers. But when it came to that nasty, defiant voice inside my head, I was never so quick. I let it cut into my confidence and would give up on dieting. Now, I pull a Donald Trump and tell the under-miner, “Hey, you’re fired!” I replaced that critical voice with a more upbeat, “Hey gorgeous, you’re going to be bikini-ready. You’re on the John Oliver, Jon Stewart, Amy Schumer Diet.”  You won’t, but if you should want to cheat on the diet, you can slip in a few moments of morose brooding. 

Marketing Tips From A Few "Mad Men"

Last week we said goodbye to the hit series Mad Men, an inside look at the scandalous world of advertising in the 1960s -- featuring sex, smoking and drinking. Don Draper gave modern day entrepreneurs lessons on how to present messages that will captivate an audience. David Letterman covered some of the same territory more recently, but we’ll save that for another blog. 

Below are a few of the best marketing take-aways from Mad Men:

1. Find that story about the product. Stats and data are boring. Leave them to Pew and Nate Silver. What Don Draper did so successfully was tell a story that connects to people’s hearts, knowing that’s what they respond to. As he said, “YOU are the product. You have to feel something. That's what sells.” Don’s disturbing past – that he came from a poor, troubled family – allowed him to understand what ordinary people go through. He learned from his past that a story has to touch others. Keep that in mind on how you can turn your mess to a success.

2. Take your clients out. Tweeting is the one night stand of connecting. It’s not enough. Back in the 60s, they had to make a call on a land line and take a client out for dinner and as many drinks as it took to win them over. They didn’t count on emoticons and fast sells. When was the last time you had a meal with a client? It’s an excuse for fun and a dirty martini. 

3. Don’t wait to be invited or for something to happen. Be pro-active. In the final episode, we saw Joan passed over by the male hierarchy. She remained angry only long enough to register what happened, and then moved on to form her own company. I’d like to say that sexism ended twenty years ago, but I won’t lie to you, especially as you flip through the channels looking for a female talk show host to replace the guys. I’ve ranted about this here.

We can learn from women. Like Joan, comic Kathy Griffin wasn’t satisfied by what was being offered to her (more accurately, what wasn’t) so she started her own room and told her stories with such great humor. She celebrated being on the D-list, turning that mess into a successful career. Put on your walking shoes and take your cues from women, as well as from men. The world can be your stage. If you don’t believe me, Shakespeare said it too.

Want to develop your message? Speak? Or just be funnier?

Come to a Judy Carter workshop in LA, SF, and Chicago. Info Here.

How To Connect To Your Audience (Even After You’re Dead)

No matter how powerful, smart, inspiring, or hilarious your Message is— it’s ineffective if no one is listening. As a performer and business owner, your relationship to your audience is everything. It doesn’t matter whether that audience consists of clients, customers, web surfers, or even someone looking at your grave – if no one pays attention, do you really exist?

Just last week, at my NYC “Message of You” Workshop, I asked the participants to share the Message they would want on their gravestones. Your “Message” is your life’s logline— a combo of who you are and who’s on the receiving end (mourners, grave diggers, clergy, lovers who don’t want to spring for a room). At first, my students hesitated, awkwardly trying to figure out what they might say. Some chose the “keep on laughing” route, though no one said, “Dying is easy, comedy is hard.” A popular Message was “Care about others!” These are fine, if you want your Message to sound like a Hallmark card. 

So how do we come up with a global Message that inspires others while keeping our individuality? Walk through a Jewish cemetery and you might think the Message is already carved into the stone; they’re all the same. While trying to find my mother’s grave, I stopped seven times as I read, “Beloved wife, mother, daughter.”  Jewish cemeteries are notorious for having a pretty uniform layout and it’s not like you can say ‘turn right at the mausoleum and a left at the 6 foot statue of Jesus’. As I walked around and read what was on the gravestones, I wondered how everyone was beloved when we know what really happens at Seders. Missing was the humor, the last dig at your spouse, the sharp retort to the Buddinsky sister-in-law. Your stone is your closing number, summing it all up, an eternal Facebook page. Your life is your Message. If ever there was a place to put “The Message of You,” it’s on your gravestone!

How do you find that inspiring Message? The pithy wrap up? Your Martin Luther King Jr. moment?…  Writing a great tombstone is just like preparing a terrific speech. You should shape your personal Message while empathizing with your audience. It’s safe to assume those in a graveyard might be in a down mood, not dissimilar from a corporate audience. So, write your Message keeping in mind the audience. 

Given this, “It’s about them” philosophy, my students started formulating powerfully transforming Messages, creating gravestones that will be wake-up calls long after they are dead. 

Some of my favorites:

“I’m laying down but you’re standing up. Make something of yourself.”

“I told you I wasn’t feeling well. Don’t ignore that pain!” 

Mine was: “What are you looking at? You’re gonna be here one day. Get out of this graveyard and live!” 

Getting to take off with something like that makes dying -- to die for.  

You don’t have to put it in stone, but what would your stone say?

A Rap Song For Admin Appreciation Week

Yes, the bad news is… no raise, but the good news is you’re getting appreciation. 

With over 22 million of you in the U.S. alone, working longhours with not enough pay— you really are the Gods and Goddesses of our corporations. I mean, aren’t you the ones who are supposed to stay late, make everyone else look good, and know who the hell “Bob” is when you answer the phones? (What are you, the Psychic Network? “BOB”WHOM?!) 

And what about all those computer programming headaches?This boss is PC-only. That boss is all about Apple. And for those baby-boomers who still use a freakin’ dictaphone- this isn’t Mad Men! Get with the software program!

Who has time for a love life? When you’re an admin, getting lucky is finding someone to fix your computer. It used to be when you had bugs, you called an exterminator; now you need an ET. Forget about tall, dark, and handsome; what you want is a guy with a big hard drive, a lot of RAM and knows how to use it. 

And that’s not all you put up with. One minute you’re working on the 500 “priority” deadlines your boss throws at you, and the next you’re his therapist, babysitter, or shoulder masseuse (or worse— but we won’t even go there.) 

There should be a song for you Admins. This isn’t that – but I wrote the Admin Rap Song just for you. Please forgive my lack of musical talent and soul.

So— crank this up when you’re stuck in overtime. This one’s for you! 

DOWNLOAD the Admin Rap Song Free

Using Entrepreneur Skills to Outwit Traffic

What sucks the life out of me is LA traffic. The 405 Fwy is now literary 4 or 5 MPH. So, I'm sharing with you a creative way around it.

Traffic upset may seem strange for someone, such as myself, who works out of their house. There’s not much gridlock between my bedroom and my office, one of the perks of my being an entrepreneur. I’m not sure, but I think "Entrepreneur" is a French word that translates to “one who works in underwear.” The point is, as a speaker, writer, and comic, I don’t go out much except to the airport. 

But last Friday, I made a date to meet up with a friend at my favorite restaurant on the Westside of LA -- Season’s 52. This should only take 10 minutes, but, no, this time I was in my car for a full HOUR. Apparently, where I live in Venice, California, has become the second most popular tourist destination in Southern California after Disneyland. I don’t know why people are choosing to bike along the ocean, visit marijuana stores, and look at homeless people when they could be having breakfast with Goofy. At least, the amusement park is gracious enough to put up signs reading, “From here you have a 3-month wait.” The California Highway Patrol isn’t as considerate, leaving me to discover the seasons would change before I reached my destination.

Being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic was making me nuts. Although it was a nice change of pace to have people swearing at me in languages I don’t know, at my age, I resent unproductive time. My frustration inspired an idea -- a way I would no longer get stuck in traffic, pay hefty valet parking fees (plus tip), and turn the trip into fun.  

My new love is called REDDIE. I bought an electric scooter! It’s not the Grandma old person scooter. It’s one that you charge up, then stand on, rev it up by kick starting, and zip to where you want to go. I keep it in my car and when the traffic starts to get to me, I park, unfold the scooter and wheeee!!!!  I’m a kid again. Problem solved.

I’m looking for financing as I want to set up a REDDIE-selling stand on the 405 Freeway, which should actually be called “The parking lot between L.A. and the San Fernando Valley." Instead of road rage, Angelinos will all be in better spirits. My next hurdle: what to do about bike helmet hair. 

Entrepreneurs: 8 Tips for Telling Your Hero Story

If you are an entrepreneur, a salesperson, a comic, or a speaker, there is a story that you need to know and tell.  It's the story that will engage your audience, make them laugh, and motivate them to buy your products and services. What is this amazing story? It is the story of why what you do isn't just a job... but a calling. It is your HERO STORY. Read more on Psychology Today... 

Comic Without Borders Stops the Spread of Adultery

How many of us feel a responsibility to respond when we see someone getting hurt? We’re faced with the choice of taking action or turning away. This issue came up for me as I was overhearing a conversation at the next table at a restaurant between a 40 year old man and his young mistress. He was cheating and I had to do something about it... check out my blog on Psychology Today

Can You Laugh Away Anger?

Last week I found myself with so much to get angry at  -- my neighbor who throws cat s**t into my yard (I'm not exaggerating), the new wrinkles on my face (overnight!), not to forget the fact that I gained 2 lbs. because I have the slowest metabolism in the world and have to jog 9 miles to work off a tic tac I had in 2005. That's when I remember that years ago a FLASHER interrupted a jog but I decided to make a different choice - not to get ANGRY, but to get FUNNY.  You will laugh out loud at my new blog:  "Can You Laugh Away Anger?"

If life has been getting you DOWN, please READ and COMMENT on "Psychology Today." I LOVE reading your comments.

AND...
I'm getting SO excited! Only 10 days to "The Message of You Workshop!" There will be stories told and TED talks written. Details and registration HERE.

ONE MORE THOUGHT...
Many of you from past comedy conventions remember Tracy Newman, former TV Producer of "Ellen," "According to Jim," among many more shows. Well, she's reinvented her life as a singer/songwriter and I highly recommend watching her new music video, "I Just See You." It's about 4 little words we all want to hear from our partner.  http://bit.ly/I-Just-See-You

Careers in Comedy: Sometimes the Worst Mess Leads You to Success

How do you know when it’s time to change your direction in life?  Are you going to keep waiting on tables, or should you GIVE UP on your fantasy career and do something else? How much longer do you stay with an agent who’s not getting you jobs? Are you better off in a so-so relationship, or is it smarter to LEAVE while you still have all your original parts? STAY OR LEAVE: a question that resurfaced over the holiday weekend. 

I’d been SO EXCITED as I arranged a 4^th of July vacation with my family in Big Bear -- hiking with the dogs, lying in a chaise lounge by the lake, sipping a drink, swimming. Then I saw the place. The Lake Front Lodge was a 3-STORY WALK-UP with nails sticking out of the plywood steps (I put the pictures up on my Facebook page). The room had curtains with BULLET HOLES; no, they weren’t lace. The one lamp was without a bulb. The bedspread, circa 1982 K-Mart, seemed to have holes from the SHRAPNEL, probably related to the curtain incident. There were no chairs by the lake, maybe because of the Hitchcock-like swarms of MOSQUITOES.  Swimming? Only if you could step through multiple CATFISH CARCASSES floating belly up on the shoreline.

So much for not checking Trip Advisor.

In one shattering moment, we discovered there were NO refunds, no other places available, and it started to STORM. Lightning, thunder, and a 4.8  EARTHQUAKE. The room was a crime scene, it was storming, our cellphones were beeping with an emergency flash flood warning – what next? Locusts, vermin, the slaughtering of firstborns? Did it make sense to STAY and smear the blood of a Paschal Lamb on my car? Or give up on the fantasy of what I had envisioned and LEAVE? We had to make a decision.

This reminded me of another time in my life where I had to make a decision to walk away or stay and make the best of it.

In 1989, I had a series of 10 stand-up comedy gigs booked by Rick Messina, who later became Drew Carey’s manager. I was staying in New York in the kind of neighborhood where even a schnauzer could get mugged, and that’s what happened to my beloved Walter, who got attacked by a pack of stray dogs. Cabs apparently don’t stop for bleeding animals, but I managed to get him to the animal hospital. Handing him over, I was crying as I told the doctors, “I can’t stay, I have to work!”

“This late? What do you do?” they asked.

“I’m a stand-up comedienne!” I said through my sobs.

At the time I had spent 17 years as a stand-up comedienne, sometimes 46 weeks on the road. This gig was in Long Island, a club called Governor’s, which somehow was a magnet for all the scum of the earth. I borrowed a jacket to cover my blouse that was caked with my dog’s blood. Making my way to the stage, I heard the crowd welcoming me with, “You suck! You suck!”

I plodded onstage, starting a joke, “I’m worried about getting old…” Someone shouted, “Getting old?” I was 34. Do I stay onstage and “get them” or end this misery and piss off everyone?

Then, I had a EUREKA MOMENT where time seemed to roll in slow motion. I saw their drunken faces as a blur. I saw my father’s face with his bloodshot eyes. Then it hit me – that making drunks laugh was something I did as a child at the dinner table. I realized NOW I am an adult with CHOICES. And that night, I made a DARING CHOICE – to LEAVE. I walked off stage, walked out of my contracts with Rick, picked up my dog, got a plane home to LA, and looked for something else to do with my career.  For a year, I thought about how I could reinvent myself. That led to launching my workshops, writing Stand-Up Comedy: The Book, and appearing on the Oprah Winfrey Show and getting booked in a career I didn’t know existed – as a CORPORATE SPEAKER.  

This is what came to mind while we were in Big Bear waiting for the mudslide to clear that had been triggered by the earthquake. Sometimes when dealing with bad situations, we forget that we ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE.  As with poker, if life deals you bad cards, you can keep hoping that your luck will change, or fold.  I folded. I left Big Bear.

Back in the comfort of my own home, I took a bath in my CLEAN tub, went boogie-boarding in the ocean down the block, and felt sure I’d done the right thing. Knowing when to LEAVE is as important as knowing when to STAY.

Feel free to forward this to someone you know in a terrible marriage, dead-end job or whoever’s had too much cosmetic work done.

Is it better to be sorry about something you did, or something you didn't do? You have to DO IT to find out.

5 Tips to Writing Your Life Story: Start with Yesterday

Have you ever seen a comic, a Toastmaster winner, a one-person show and thought: “I have great stories! Better stories! I should write them down and DO SOMETHING with them.” But that intention usually gets lost…between the demands of your job (okay, of trying to find a job), your family, and getting loaded.

We all have stories, but HOW do we tell them so they inspire audiences and make them laugh, applaud and think, “I’m so glad I heard this.” (Don't worry, I'm getting to the "Ducts.")

Here’s the thing – you don’t need to have lived a dramatic life to come up with interesting stories. What matters is HOW YOU TELL THEM. Matter of fact, your incredible story that can impact an audience might have happened YESTERDAY. When looked at with the right perspective, the best stories can come from the SMALL incidents of the day. I find that EVERY DAY HAS A STORY. Sadly, we all have relatives who buy into that and believe that every story is worth telling, even if the way they tell them is, how do I say this…boring. (Feel free to forward this blog to them.)

So you don’t become that boring relative, I’m sharing my formula, which is to shape the story using traditional story structure.

Approach your journal entry (BTW – I LOVE The “Day One” Journal App) by answering these questions about YESTERDAY:

1. What did you DESIRE yesterday?
2. What were the OBSTACLES that got in the way of you achieving your goal?
3. What is the BACK STORY?
4. What was the RESOLUTION and MESSAGE – where you got what you wanted or failed to, but you learned something

1. DESIRE
If you have ever taken a screenwriting course, you learned that a story requires a character having a DESIRE – something he or she wants.

So, let’s look at my yesterday, another mundane day except my DESIRE was to get my FURNACE DUCTS CLEANED.

This happened because last week when I asked my friend, Laura, what chores she most hated, she said, “Changing the filters on the central air furnace.”

“Filters?!! They have filters?” My mother never told me that. She didn’t tell me about sex either. Luckily, my friends did. But NOBODY said anything about filters.

The look on my friend’s face said it all. She now saw me as someone seriously flawed, unaware of why we had been put on earth. OMG!!! You HAVEN’T CHANGED YOUR FURNACE FILTERS… EVER?”

She couldn’t have been more horrified if she’d found out I’d never changed my underwear. According to her, with all the DIRTY AIR my furnace has been spitting out, I’m lucky to be alive. And this explains why I have allergies, asthma, depression, and overeat. And maybe why the Queen of England never swings by my place.

2. OBSTACLES
What are the OBSTACLES that prevented you from getting what you wanted?

I needed a furnace expert. My first regret was not having signed up for Angie’s list, where I could trust the recommendations were real. I had only the reviews on Yelp and was hoping all the people who raved about Brandon weren’t his relatives or paid reviewers. My ignorance was certainly my biggest obstacle -

Not only was I unsure about the reliability of Yelp, but, the questions duct cleaners ask were mind-boggling: How many vents? How many ducts? How many furnaces? “Look, I know where the stove is, but this was way over my head.”

3. What is the back-story?
What in my life was relevant? Could there be any connection between my failing to clean out my heating ducts and the fact that I’d had an emergency hysterectomy when I was 32? Did I think once I got rid of my Fallopian tubes, nothing else would ever need to be serviced or removed? Were ducts anything like Fallopian tubes…or just in my mind? I have no idea how furnaces work and was trying to use what little I know about how my body works to get a handle on how ducts get clogged. I don’t want my furnace to end up in a hospital, the way I did. Especially now, when the health care system is so messed up. I’m a worrier and was wondering if a clogged furnace is a pre-existing condition.

4. Escalating Obstacles
Brandon, the duct cleaning guy, came over and he left his tools on the sidewalk. I’d neglected to tell him about my whack job neighbor, who thinks my driveway is a recycling center. She assumes anything sitting there for more than thirty seconds is in the public domain. I had to go to her house and persuade her to give back the tools.

Next, the duct guy left the garage door open, letting Boo, my cat out. My cat is very important to me. She has a GPS tracking device on her, but I don’t stay on top of things and I didn’t pay attention when the battery died. That’s why we had to mount a neighborhood search. And I had trouble getting support because the whack job neighbor bad mouthed me, saying I’d accused her of stealing tools, didn’t take proper care of my cat and organized a sizable resistance group.

That’s not everything. Brandon had to go to Home Depot to buy filters, there was traffic, my dogs tried to kill him when he returned, and of course, my whack job neighbor watched it all with binoculars from her roof. (You think I’m kidding… no!)

5. Resolution and Message
Where you got what you wanted… or you didn’t, but you learned something.

In the end, my ducts got cleaned out and Brandon showed me how to change the filters. I should have been relieved, but, as I said, I’m a worrier. There’s always something else. My something else was: what else don’t I know I should be doing that might kill me and those I love?

The lesson I learned is we can’t know what we don’t know. I’m refraining from making any jokes about our past president, forcing myself to stick to the message – that we are always learning to care better for the things we love. “Entropy” is it’s the nature of things to fall apart, and in order to make things last, we need to care for them. This is not just true of furnaces. When I was 17, I learned that cars use not only gas, but oil, that calories count even if you’re eating directly out of the ice cream container, and sex needs interesting outfits.

What is the story of your day? One other thing, can I get in on your Angie’s List subscription?

The Power of Your Story: Is TOASTMASTERS the Cure to Peace in the Middle East?

The Middle East. What comes to your mind? Muslim terrorists? Dangerous people? Oppressed women?

When I accepted an invite to speak at District 20 Toastmasters Annual Conference in Muscat, Oman, my friends spoke up.

“Judy, you’d be crazy to go.”
“It’s too dangerous. There are TERRORISTS there.”
“You would really need to ‘Jew-Down'.”

The truth is I WAS scared. I watch CNN, which makes me NOT at all an expert on the politics of the Middle East or even the geography. When I got the invite to go to Oman, I said, “Great! Where is that?”

“It’s in the Middle East,” Mahmood Safar Alqassab, whom I met while speaking at the International Toastmasters convention in Cincinnati, told me.

“Middle East? Great! I could fly to Chicago.”

As it ends up, Oman is FAR from Chicago. After 23 hours of travel, I was picked up by Mahmood and Harish Bilgi, their heads covered by the traditional muzzar, both wearing traditional Omani dishdasha (a white ankle-length gown). Men in dresses? Hey, I’m used to that. I live near West Hollywood!

They hugged me and didn’t seem scary at all. I immediately felt their warmth. Telling jokes and laughing, we headed to my hotel, I mean my palace. Yes, I was staying at the Al Bustan PALACE. A 5-star resort on the Gulf of Oman. Walking into the hotel, waves of Frankincense calmed my nerves. And that’s when I learned that everything about Oman is sweet: the air, the customs, the people.

“Is it safe for women to walk late at night downtown in the marketplace?” I asked.

“But, of course. After all, this isn’t LOS ANGELES!” They had me there…

It took a while for me to get over my fears. At the Souq Muttrah, (one of the oldest marketplaces in the Arab world), seeing a man holding a five-year old girl, I assumed that he was kidnapping her, or worse. Then I noticed many men pushing their children in strollers, kissing and hugging them.  So un-terrorist like.  You don’t believe me? Watch this amazing YOUTUBE playlist of my adventures in Oman.

I’d tamed down my presentation, showing a restraint I didn’t know myself capable of. No one was more surprised than I was when during a humor exercise, Sheer Al Balushi came onstage and stripped down to his Muslim underwear, giving me a chance to see traditional Omani underwear (note: not Calvin Klein, see FULL photos on FB).

New York women dress in black, but here, I thought the women were covered in black because they were forced to, denied making choices in life, another aspect of their being oppressed. But no, most of the women I met were university educated, free to make choices, some preferring to wear the traditional sirwal, some choosing marriage, some choosing careers. And underneath their sirwal – guess what? Victoria’s Secret. The women were no pushovers.

In the end, it was I who learned so much from THEM.

At one point, when speaking about being authentic, I had to confess that I hadn’t been authentic with them. I came clean, telling them about my fears and misconception, admitting that I had a secret. “I’m Jewish,” I said. They tossed flowers. They hugged me. It was a love fest.

Anytime we tell our stories, we connect. Whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim or Buddhist, our stories are the glue that bind us; there is no “other.” We are all grappling with the same things: hoping to get along with our family, looking for love, and trying to lose ten pounds or twenty kilos.

There are plenty of people in this part of the world who never make it onto CNN, where the focus is on the mentally ill terrorists.  That group is truly a minority. Their story is not the story of the rest of the population.

Thank you, Toastmasters, for striving to master storytelling, comedy and speaking. You all rock, and I hold you in my heart. I hope we continue to learn from one another. And we have another reason to wear clean underwear: you never know when you’ll be going onstage and stripping.

Will a Female Comic Ever Host Late Night?

The LA Times called CBS’s choice of Stephen Colbert to replace David Letterman, “Not a Conservative Choice.”

Really?  Come on.  I love Colbert, but casting another white male comic in the coveted Late Night hosting spot is as radical as choosing vanilla at 31 Flavors.

I was one of the few female comics touring clubs in the 80’s.  In 1986, I was doing my first comedy special for Showtime.  This was a big deal because it was produced by Paramount.  It was four comics, and I was the only woman on the show.  I was backstage listening to Howie Mandel introduce me:  “And our next guest is uh, ah, is a woman, she’s a woman!  And I know that cause I’ve seen her (two things that start with T) …. They’re real!  Here is Judy Carter…”

Yes, I was being introduced as if my gender was a gross abnormality.  Stomach churning, I summoned my courage and decided not to respond, certain that the producers would cut out the offending introduction.  But, they didn’t, as you can see here: http://youtu.be/o2lPBKyiWrs  (Please don’t judge the big hair).

So much has changed since the 1980’s.  We have an African-American president, female CEOs, and gay people can get married.  And, on late night TV, we have… wait for it… wait for it… all white guys with ties!

Really?  Have the career opportunities for funny females not improved in 30 years?  My friends are surprised that I’m surprised.  They refer to a comment by Eddie Brill, former talent booker for Letterman, who explained to the NY Times why he booked more male comics than female comics.  He said, “There are a lot less female comics who are authentic.  I see a lot of female comics who, to please an audience, will ACT LIKE MEN.”

This statement is confusing, as it seems that Mr. Brill LIKES male comics.  Wouldn’t “acting like a man” be an advantage for a female comic?  Unless, of course, funny females are being judged, not solely on their comedy talent, but on their f-ability.

Every time a comedy with women hits the big screen, such as, “Bridesmaids,” or “The Heat,” I get a call from the media asking me the same question: “Are women funny?”

I’ll tell you what ISN’T funny – that tired old question.

Yes!  Stephen Colbert is EXTREMELY talented.  So are Ellen DeGeneres, Chelsea Handler, Aisha Tyler, and many, many others.  Guess what?  You don’t need to go to the bathroom standing up to be funny.

But… on the positive side, (hey, I’m a motivational speaker now, I have to look on the positive side), when a door is slammed in our faces, a window opens.  That window of opportunity is the millions of people who LOVE female comedy.  And that’s why I, along with other funny women such as Jeanne Robertson, Amanda Gore, Loretta LaRoche, and others, get paid well to perform for audiences of over 2500 people.  Maybe it’s because audiences CAN’T see us on TV that they download our videos on YouTube, and come to see us live.

The good news is: capitalism trumps discrimination.

Authenticity Isn't Pretty

I'm visiting my mother-in-law who is living in assisted living.  As we walk into lunch, we pass a very old man in a wheelchair.  I smile at him and say, "Hi! I hope you're having a good day!"

I thought he would say something nice back, as I imagined that people in wheelchairs get ignored.  Rather than smiling back he sneers at me and says, "What are you looking at?  You're going to be here soon. Just like me. It's what's waiting for you."

Ouch!  And happy birthday to me.

They say that old people are cranky.  Are they?  Or, are they just more authentic than the rest of us?  Perhaps at a certain age, we give up on the false pleasantries and truly say what we think.  After all, isn't authenticity the new buzzword?

The Internet is full of blogs, TED talks, articles, and books that claim to teach people how to be more authentic.  Can it be taught?  I know one speaker who wrote a book on authenticity that he had ghost written for him.  Oh come on!

We all were completely authentic to ourselves at one time as a child.  Clear on what we wanted.  What happened in our lives that so many of us now need a therapist to remind us of who we are, and what we want?

If we didn't want to please the elusive THEM, how real could we get?  Even alone, how many of us can look in the mirror and love what we see?

I spent my childhood pleasing parents and teachers, my 20's being thin and cute for men, my 30's being thin and cute for women, my 40's focused on  my career, and now, on this birthday, I'm feeling that I've earned the right to start telling people the truth.

So, I plan on my next trip to the assisted living home to find that man and tell him, "Thank you for being my wake up call.  Thank you for reminding me that life is short and how I need to live it authentically.  Thank you for reminding me that sooner than later I will be in that wheelchair with some arrogant younger person smiling an insincere smile at me.  And I hope that on that day I can truly let the truth rip."

Meanwhile... I hope you liked this blog.

Hacking is Easy, Comedy is Hard

I'm being blackmailed by a standup comic/hacker. No joke. This story is so weird, that I couldn't make it up.

I got an email today from "Maria" who identifies herself as a standup comic/hacker. This person has hacked into my emails and website, drew a mustache on my bio picture and made demands that I send my "How to Be Funny" products  or "Maria" will express the full extent of her hacking abilities and destroy my sites.

Wow.  This is the first time I've been threatened to make someone funny.  I know these are dire times -- but are other professions getting these sorts of threats?

"Give me a face lift Mr. Surgeon -- or I make your Facebook page look like a before picture."

The first thing I noticed is just how unfunny the email was.  (Not even an attempt at humor; why not some ironic alliteration like "Humor Hacker?")

The email ended with a smiley face emoticon.  Seriously - a smiley face?  How hack is that?

Even if I did send my materials -- what kind of comic would he/she be?  You aren't going to do well with an audience when you start with, "Laugh or I will steal your identity."

Being a hack is easy.  If you take it seriously -- comedy is hard.  The message is -- websites are replaceable, but nobody can hack my sense of humor. 

So, thank you "Maria," for giving me a great story.

Dear Judy Carter

I'm Maria, I have two job, I'm stand-up comedian and hacker... I wanna you help me to improve my stand-up performance and I'll help you to improve your website.
So please send me your products free. I wanna ebook in pdf format of "The Comedy Bible","Standup Comedy: The Book" and "The Message of You" also 3 DVD of "Comedy Career in a Box".
and after that I help you in yourwebsite betterment... I think this is a good aggrement ... If you don't reply to my email untill 3 day I'll Start to proof my abilities

to proof my claim , I draw mustache for Judy carter photo at this page : judycarter.com/biography.php

Sorry for that but I'll make everything correct as I recieve your email :)

with best regards
Maria