Dear Journal,

This week's entry is dedicated to my friend and comedic hero Mitch Hedberg who died last week. I feel at a loss eulogizing someone I looked up to so much- but Mitch treated all comics the same. It didn't matter if it was Dave Attell or someone who had been doing comedy 3 days.

If you didn't know Mitch, he was a comedian who had long hair over his eyes and wore sunglasses and looked down at the floor and delivered brilliant lines like "I think foosball is a cross between soccer and shish ka bob"¦I used to do drugs. I still do. But I used to, too."� To call him a one-liner comic would be a disservice to the strong connection he made with his audience. To Mitch, his jokes were like his children. Some of them were accomplished. Some of them weren't. And some of them didn't even make a lot of sense. But he loved them all equally. He just loved jokes. When people didn't laugh, he'd pause a second and go, "alright"¦that joke was ridiculous."� I think some people misunderstood Mitch. They'd go, "What is he doing? He's lying on the floor? He's walking behind the curtain."� But that was all part of it. He rode the line of what people considered a show- so no 2 shows were the same. He was the Iggy Pop of comedy. He was a rock-star. He sold out 2 thousand seat theaters without having a sitcom. So he was this beacon of hope for real comics that you didn't have to move to Hollywood to become a comedy star.

When I started doing the road 5 years ago, I found out I'd be opening for Mitch in Dayton, Ohio, and I couldn't believe it. I was struggling to get by but I had that one date circled on my calendar for months. So I show up at the club and they ask me if I'll pick up Mitch in my car and bring him to the club. And I was in shock. First, because Mitch Hedberg was going to ride in my car. And second, that Mitch Hedberg rides in cars at all. I had always kind of envisioned him riding in a spaceship or just kind of teleporting onto stage. So I was taken aback when I picked him up and he and has wife Lynn treated me like an old friend. So we do the shows and later in the week I ask them if they want to go bowling because I had my bowling shoes there. So we go bowling and I'm very rattled that I'm bowling with Mitch Hedberg that I'm awful. I'm rolling all kinds of 1s and 3s. And I was so embarrassed. And at the end, Mitch said to me, "When you said you wanted to go bowling, I thought that you would be good at bowling."� And then we're waiting in line to pay and there are these teenage girls next to us in line and so to embarrass me, he goes: "do you think he's cute?"� and they go, "he's alright."� And then his wife Lynn comes over and talk to Mitch privately and then Mitch comes over and says: "Lynn says I should apologize for embarrassing you."� And then there was a pause and I go "Mitch, you didn't actually apologize, you just said you were supposed to."� And he was like "Ha! good one."�

That night Mitch was on stage and in the middle of his set he goes, "Oh no, I got to go to the bathroom. Can someone come on stage and tell a joke?"� and there was this long gaping silence. And then he's like "I'm serious, you guys. I really gotta go."� And it's still silent. People didn't know what to do. And so I'm backstage with Lynn and I'm like "are you gonna go up?"� and she was "will you go?"� And I was like "alright."� And I walk onto stage and he doesn't know I'm there because his eyes are closed. And I go "Mitch, I'm here."� And he's "Oh, thanks man."� And he walks off like this is an everyday thing. And the audience is looking at me and I'm looking at the audience and we're all just laughing. So I just look down at the floor and go, "I am pretty good at tennis, but I will never be as good as the wall. The wall is relentless"¦there was a jar of jelly beans at the state fair that said "˜guess how many and you win the jar'- I was like "˜c'mon man, lemme just have some.'"� So then Mitch comes back laughing and says: "Aw, man. he did my best jokes."�

I was never quite sure if Mitch and I were friends because he never said much. He rarely talked about himself if at all. But I just felt lucky to be around him. Whenever he spoke, I just listened real hard. When I was opening for him on the Comedy Central Live Tour, he offered to come to New York City for the release of my CD at The Comic Strip. I kept giving him an out so that he didn't feel obliged to do it, but he insisted on it. So he flew himself to New York and performed on 2 shows for nothing. I offered to pay him and he kept refusing. He just gave me a hug and walked out the door, and that was it. The late booker for The Comic Strip Lucien Hold commented that what amazed him most about Mitch was that he had eyes closed on stage yet had the most profound connection with the audience. He didn't see the audience. He felt the audience.

There are all kinds of great stories about Mitch: about how he found out some fans had driven 6 hours to see him, so he got them a hotel room; how George Carlin was once in the audience for one of his shows and said, "that blind guy is amazing,"� How he paid for a sold out audience in Pittsburgh to all have shots of tequila. This week I've emailed with so many people who are crushed by Mitch's death. I've spoken to people who never met Mitch personally and can't help but start crying in the middle of their day. I feel the same way. It's overwhelming. It's so sad to lose someone who made so many people happy.

On New Years Eve, I was on an elevator in Kalamazoo, Michigan and this guy goes: "I know you. You're that guy on Comedy Central who does that joke about dizzy chickens."� And I go, "No, that's Mitch Hedberg."� And he was like, "Oh yeah, you're good too. But that guy is the best."�

I was like "Yeah, he is."�

Thanks, Mitch. Thanks for being the best.

Love-

Mike

Dear Journal,

As I write this, I'm sitting with my girlfriend on the dining car of the Alaskan Railroad from Fairbanks to Anchorage. Someone has set up their boom-box in the booth next to us and it's playing Nat Cole's "Wonderful World."� Somehow this simultaneously ruins both the scenery and the song. It's like showing up at a funeral with a boom box playing "Another one bites the dust."�

I was in Alaska to perform at a pair of colleges in Fairbanks and Anchorage. But the real draw for me was the opportunity to see bears, puffins, porpoises, and eagles. We rented a cabin in Fairbanks, which was wise. As a rule, the farther away from civilization you go, the worse the hotels are. You can always tell by how much they combine toiletries. They'll have shampoo slash conditioner slash toothpaste. And you actually have to call the desk and say can I get some more "sham-paste?"� So we have this cabin and I'm sitting on the porch and I see these elk run by. One thing about animals is they're more graceful than we are. As humans, we don't run well. Elk look nice when they run. We're all out of breath and sweating and pulling our tie off. So I get up and walk slowly toward them. And they definitely know how to keep their distance. I almost feel like they were exactly a few feet beyond how far a bullet could reach. Not that I know even know what that would be. I've never really believed in hunting, I've heard the arguments for it. People say "if I don't shoot these deer. They'll starve."� I always feel like saying, "Yeah, and also you like shooting stuff."�

So I didn't see bears this time in Alaska like I did last time. It's a mixed blessing seeing a bear. Best scenario, cool picture. Worst case, you're unrecognizable at your funeral.

And there are different strategies for different types of bears"”like with black bears you're supposed to play dead and with brown bears you're supposed to run down a hill. And with polar bears, you're supposed to hand them a pair of sunglasses and a Coke.

So I'm sitting here on the train and it's a nice moment. It really is. But seeing all these animals is a touch of sadness because it reminds you that a lot of our animals are going extinct and I can only hope that my kids wont only know of bears, elephants, and tigers as the shapes of fruit snacks.

And that concludes this week's entry in my Secret Public Journal.