Show me the funny

Local comics hone their skills at monthly open-mic night

Gov. Rod Blagojevich better run and hide. The comedians at Donnie B’s Funny Bone in Springfield have him in their sights.

The Gov, the minimum wage, fast food, the economy, the Cubs and marriage seem to be the most popular topics at the comedy club’s monthly open-mic contest. Several local comedians compete for the top prize, with many performers traveling more than a hundred miles for a chance at stardom.

Why the Funny Bone? Owner Donnie Bassford says it’s because his establishment provides a safe environment for a comedian trying to get a foot in the door. “We have a reputation for protecting comedians,” he says, “because we know that everyone has to start somewhere, and we want to help them out.” At open-mic night, comics like Jeremy Hughes pay $5 for a chance to win both the cash pot and an invitation to perform in the club’s showroom. “Donnie has us perform in the bar,” says Hughes. “It’s a lot harder than in the main showroom because you’re in front of an intimate crowd of 30 instead of 200. You can see everyone, and it’s quiet if they don’t laugh, but it’s good to practice. And I’ll never see these people again.”

The comics don’t always have the best performances of their careers, but open-mic night is the perfect place to test new material. Eight comics in all approach the mic in November, and Donnie B names Peoria native Billi Casey the winner. Casey is new to the game. Her friends signed her up for a performance weeks ago, and this is just her third time in front of a live crowd.

Casey, 44, draws on her experiences in Narcotics Anonymous and as a mother of four kids between the ages of four and 21. Her kids are of three different ethnic backgrounds, and as Casey tells the audience, “I’m dating a Puerto Rican, but we’re starting to have problems. He’s paranoid. He thinks I’m dating him just to make my jokes funnier.”

She’s about to celebrate 18 months sober, and says talking about NA in her act makes performing at a bar easier. The hardest part is getting the laughs. “The stuff I think is funny, no one laughs at,” she explains. “Like tonight, they didn’t laugh until the Rosa Parks joke and then they couldn’t stop.” “I hate her,” says fellow comedian Buddah Eskew, who has honed his craft over the last few years while keeping a day job at the secretary of state’s office. “I hate her because she’s a natural and I bombed tonight.” Eskew feigns sadness, but his routine has just earned him his second guest spot in the showroom. He’ll be performing with The Midnight Swinger on Jan. 2. Buddah actually roots for newcomers like