0:00
/
0:00

Paid episode

The full episode is only available to paid subscribers of New York Cartoons

Comedians In Studios Drinking Soap: A transatlantic journey from bombing on stage to pigeons playing pickleball.

DMA#18: With Special Guest Jessie Kanelos Weiner
Get more from Jason Chatfield in the Substack app
Available for iOS and Android

I dragged Jessie Canales-Weiner back onto Draw Me Anything for round two—my first repeat guest, which either makes her a comedy masochist or someone who genuinely enjoys discussing the twin miseries of drawing funny pictures and trying to make people laugh on stage.

Jessie runs the Substack La Vie En Watercolour from Paris, where she's been living for 17 years. That's long enough to develop opinions about French pigeons (they're snobby) and to watch her five-year-old destroy expensive Fabriano watercolour paper with the pure joy of someone who doesn't know art supplies cost more than rent.

The Youth Pastor to Stand-Up Pipeline: A Sociological Marvel

We discovered what I'm now calling the Ministry-to-Mic phenomenon. Jessie's parents were youth pastors in Chicago, which apparently functions as a comedy boot camp. Think about it: you're performing for the toughest crowd imaginable (teenagers), you have to make moral instruction entertaining, and failure means eternal damnation.

Or at least very disappointed old church ladies.

This connects to a broader pattern I've noticed: Sam Kinison went from preaching fire and brimstone to screaming about relationships. Justin Smith traded his Oklahoma youth ministry for opening spots with Nate Bargatze. There's clearly something about standing in front of people and demanding they care about your message that translates directly to comedy clubs.

The skill transfer is obvious once you think about it: crowd control, timing, the ability to make people believe something for exactly seven minutes, and—most importantly—the knowledge that even with a spotlight and microphone, American audiences will still glance at their phones unless you're actively entertaining them.

A Laugh Factory Soap Opera

Jessie shared her most spectacular bombing experience- a masterclass in Murphy's Law meets performance anxiety. Picture this: You're performing at the prestigious Laugh Factory in your hometown of Chicago. All your high school theatre friends are there. This is your moment.

You get a "free" gin and tonic at the bar, but tip ten dollars because you're nervous. While washing your hands before the show, soap falls into your drink. Now, any rational person would get a new drink. But Jessie thought, "I'm at the Laugh Factory—I'm drinking this soapy cocktail like a damn professional." (I’ve heard of Bathtub Gin, but this is taking it to the next level.)

The result? Mid-set, her upper lip adhered to her gums like she'd been attacked by a particularly vindictive tube of Krazy Glue. Her opening line through paralysed facial muscles: "I swear Paris isn't my only personality trait. I'm quirky too."

I mean, that's either complete disaster or accidental genius. Her friends assured her she didn't bomb. Her doctor had different news.

French Comedy vs. American Comedy: A Cultural Anthropology Study

Jessie performs in both English and French, navigating completely different comedy ecosystems. Apparently, French comedy cares more about personality than actual jokes, which explains why mimes are considered high art there.

She described getting on a French show with twelve 20-year-old male comedians. The room was too well-lit (comedy's natural enemy), and she could see everyone's confused faces as they processed: American accent + female + actual jokes = does not compute. Meanwhile, when she opened with "Any Jesus freaks out there?" at the Laugh Factory, half the Chicago audience applauded. In Paris, that would have gotten blank stares and possibly a lecture about the separation of church and state.

The Art of Drawing Funny vs. Dying Funny

We geeked out about the fundamental difference between visual humour and stage comedy. With cartoons, you craft the perfect moment—setup, punchline, three seconds to land the laugh, done. With stand-up, you have time to develop ideas, act things out, and find your rhythm. You also have to stand there and absorb the silence when something dies.

Jessie made a great point: at least with stand-up, you get immediate feedback. A New Yorker cartoon editor might take weeks to politely reject your submission with "Thanks, but this doesn't quite work for us",—which is industry code for "What the hell were you thinking?" Even if you do sell it, you never hear the laugh on the reader’s end.

Listen to this episode with a 7-day free trial

Subscribe to New York Cartoons to listen to this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.