My Point...And I Do Have One

either, even though we were doing fifteen dates together, driving from city to city. When we got to the restaurant, there was a chalkboard sitting on the street out front. It said: Soup of the Day—Cream of Asparagus. Ellen DeGeneres.
    “That’s when I had the Funniest Person in America title. That’s the only reason I got top billing over the comedian I was with, who was the opener. He didn’t even get on the chalkboard. And soup of the day had top billing over me. People would really have to want cream of asparagus soup—that would lure them in. And while they were there for the soup, well, I was just there. Nobody knew who I was. And, I’m sure my name was misspelled. My name was never spelled right. And even if it was spelled right, what did that mean to anybody? That’s pretty scary right there, isn’t it?”
    The kids stared at me, which I took to mean, “Yes, that is pretty scary.” Just then, who should come in the door but little five-year-old Mercedes and her twin brother, Oldsmobile. I had forgotten that I gave them the keys to my car to drive down to the neighborhood mart for some salted nuts and a two-pound bag of swizzle sticks. My grandmother used to say, “What’s a party without swizzle sticks?” And, even though I still have no idea what she was talking about, I’m never without them.
    As we were passing out the nuts and the sticks, little Toby, remembering that I was in the middle of a story, asked without a hint of sarcasm, “Aunt Ellen, how did you get to be the funniest person in America?”
    “This is how I got the title ‘The Funniest Person in America,’ ” I continued, leaning back in my BarcaLounger, remembering it as if it were either yesterday or over ten years ago. “I performed stand-up comedy in New Orleans for about a year, and then the club I worked at closed down. This was through no fault of my own, but since then my philosophy has been it’s just as easy to be funny without a flamethrower as it is to be with one. After that I was working in a law firm as a court runner. I worked there for about a year (until I was so out of breath I had to quit) and then I entered the Funniest Person in New Orleans contest.
    “The contest was at a club before a panel of judges, and about fifteen other people competed, a lot of whom had never even been on stage before. I had a 102° fever—I was really, really sick. I almost went home, but I decided to stay. I was the last person onstage, and I won.
    “They taped the show that night, and my tape was sent to the contest for the whole state of Louisiana. I won and became the Funniest Person in Louisiana. I don’t even think anyone else entered (maybe Al Hirt or Archie Manning). Then my tape was sent to New York—it was put up in a fine hotel and given one hundred dollars a day spendingmoney, which is a lot for a tape—to compete against the tapes from the other forty-nine states. Well, to make a long story short …”
    “It’s a little late for that,” one of the children murmured. I couldn’t tell who it was since all of them are trained ventriloquists. I decided to continue.
    “So, my tape, representing Louisiana, made it to the top five from all the states. Then all five tapes went to Pee Wee Herman, Harvey Korman, and Soupy Sales—those were the judges—two of whom, if I’m not mistaken, are now on the Supreme Court. And they all picked me as the winner. So I won Funniest Person in America for Showtime based on that one 102° fever performance.
    “After I won, I started traveling with that title. Showtime started taking me around to find the next year’s winner. I played parking lots, supermarkets, and other places looking for next year’s winner (most funny people will eventually wind up in parking lots or supermarkets). I traveled in a van with a big nose and funny glasses (on the van, not me). They wanted to make sure I didn’t have too much dignity. I was on the road all the time.
    “Having that title and being on Showtime got me a lot of attention. And at that time there wasn’t comedy everywhere and there weren’t that many comedians, so to be on television was sort of a big thing. Club owners could say, ‘As seen on Showtime,’ ‘As seen on TV.’
    “I moved to San Francisco, and suddenly I was getting jobs middling and headlining with the title ’The Funniest Person in America. Comedians who had been working a long time and had a lot more material and a lot more stage time and just