“None of those guys are funny,” says the funny McClellan. “That’s why I had to get boozecoma.com, because some guy already had johnmcclellan.com, and asking people to spell my last name was a chore. They’re working on old cars or selling real estate and I’m just out there trying to bring the jokes to the people.”
McClellan’s current joke delivery system is the Fuck All Comedy Ball, essentially his standard show booked into Rock venues. Although the difference is subtle, there are shifts from McClellan’s usual routines.
“It’s the venue and the vibe,” McClellan says. “It’s kind of a Rock & Roll show. Sticky floors, man. We're not going to confine you to seats with people you don’t know and exorbitant prices and worry about offending people. The title of the show should tell you what you’re in for. We’re leaving the in-laws at home so they can bail us out in the morning.”
McClellan’s been doing stand up for over 20 years, so he has more than a little experience in the inner workings of the comedy club circuit. It’s that intimate knowledge of the comedy system’s flaws that inspired the Fuck All Comedy Ball.
“I’ll go to comedy clubs and they’ll go, ‘Well, we have a church group here tonight, what the fuck are they doing here?' ” he says.
“ 'You’re going to have to watch it.’ No. I’m not watching anything. You paid me to be here, this is what you’re getting. That’s why I wanted to take this to Rock clubs, to equal everything out.”
McClellan’s act is about contemporary observation but not necessarily the headlines of the day unless, as he notes, it’s something cool.
“I don’t want to bring the pressures of the world down on people,” he says. “ ‘Hey, let’s go to the comedy show and hear about how horrible things are.’ No thank you. I can open a window and get a whiff of that.”
McClellan was born and raised in Akron, began his stand-up career in Dayton and then moved to Cincinnati in the late ’80s, when the comedy atmosphere was pretty healthy, citing local friends like Bert Challis, Michael Flannery and John Riggi. He subsequently moved to Chicago and then to New York, his current home, but he still feels a definite affinity for his home state and the environs he called home … to a point.
“For me to be the most famous person in my high school, I have to kill 48 people,” McClellan says. “Chrissie Hynde went to my high school. The Black Keys, Rachel Sweet, Olympic diver Phil Boggs, Melina Kanakaredes from CSI all went to my high school. I’d have to be like a super-villain with the mask and the claws.”
During his Cincinnati period, McClellan did several opening slots at Bogart’s, warming up music audiences. Through good and bad experiences, he learned plenty.
“You have to seize and maintain control,” McClellan says. “I opened for David Lee Roth and had 1,500 people booing me 10 minutes into a 30-minute set, because they’re thinking, ‘We get this guy off and Dave will come on.’ I got news for you, Dave isn’t backstage going, ‘Oh my God, the comic’s in trouble! Come on, guys, let’s bail him out!’ ”
McClellan still gets recognized for his role on Bravo reality show Millionaire Matchmaker, where he was a potential date for iconic Simon & Schuster book editor Judith Regan (“I was trying to fuck my way into Wikipedia…"”), proving television is still a powerful comedy force.
“When I first came out, you got on The Tonight Show or Letterman,” McClellan says. “That doesn’t mean as much anymore. It’s still nice, but getting on a show to do stand-up, that’s six minutes. I was on (Millionaire Matchmaker) for 12-and-a-half minutes.”
After that bit of television soapboxing, it seems only natural to ask if McClellan ever made it to the late-night stand up showcases.
“No!,” McClellan says. “Are you kidding? You’d be talking to my publicist. You’d be talking to the girl fetching my green tea. ‘Who’s calling? CityBeat? You had your chance before I was on Letterman …’ ”
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