As a comedian, you never forget the first time you bomb. For me, it wasn’t on stage.

I was in southern Afghanistan in May 2014 when a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device detonated near me while covering a routine patrol as a public affairs specialist.

It was something I had a dozen times before, but in a flash I was on my back, ears ringing, lungs full of dust.

I don’t remember the sound — just the silence that came after. That was the first time I learned what silence was — that unique brand that only occurs when your brain is trying to reboot and you’re unsure what may or may not be broken.

The blast knocked me out cold. When I came to, nothing was where it had been. The explosion left me with a traumatic brain injury and partial deafness in my right ear, with tinnitus that still rings to this day. I deal with memory loss, light sensitivity and sudden moments of confusion or panic that attack without warning.

I am fortunate to be alive. Not everyone who has gone through the same experience can say the same. That fact followed me home and into civilian life. It followed me into comedy.

After I was medically retired from the Army, I felt unmoored. I didn’t want to be thanked for my service. I wanted to feel something again — other than adrenaline and dread. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to make other people laugh.

So, I started writing, chasing the rhythm of a good joke like I used to chase good light for a photo while convincing people I was more than just a POG. (Writing that last sentence and saying it out loud, I realize that’s probably the best joke I will ever tell.)

My civilian work eventually took me to Chicago, where I enrolled at The Second City, a comedy institution where the entire curriculum is built around turning pain into timing, a place where you’re not only encouraged but expected to fail. But even with all that structure and guidance, and despite learning from the best and being repeatedly told I was capable and that my story mattered, it still wasn’t enough.

I was scared — terrified, actually. Not of the stage, but of being exposed, of being seen, of letting people in on what the war had done to me.

So, I took a break — a long one at that. I told myself I needed time to write, reset and work on new material. But the truth was more simple: I didn’t know who I was without the uniform, and I wasn’t sure if people would laugh at what was left.

For a long time, I convinced myself I hadn’t earned the right to be on stage. Like telling jokes meant I wasn’t honoring the people who didn’t come home. Or that getting a laugh somehow cheapened what had happened.

But here’s what I’ve learned as months went by: if I survived, I’m still allowed to speak. I’m allowed to create. I’m allowed to be more than what happened to me.

Two years ago, I got back on stage. There wasn’t some profound moment that caused me to do so. I just went out and did it, embracing the fear that had gripped me for so long. With the encouragement from friends and a refresher with the Armed Services Arts Partnership, I slowly started to find my comedic voice again.

Strangely enough, performing again reminded me of being on a mission. You rehearse. You plan. You step into a high-stakes environment where nothing is guaranteed. And then you execute.

The audience, like a patrol route, is unpredictable. You adjust. You move. You adapt. You get through it or you don’t — but you’re changed by it either way.

When I bomb now, I don’t panic, because — without sounding too cliche — I know what actual bombing is. I’ve felt the pressure change before an explosion. I’ve seen the color drain from the world. So, when a joke doesn’t land, I breathe. I wait. I reset. I’ll write something better next time.

What that VBIED taught me — besides basic blast physics — is that timing matters and silence isn’t always failure. Sometimes it’s the space before the punchline.

It also taught me people are always watching how you carry yourself when everything goes wrong. In combat, it’s about bearing. In comedy, it’s about confidence. My pace on stage is a reflection of that. It’s slower, calculated and rehearsed. You don’t have to pretend you’re invincible, but you do have to show the crowd you’re still in control — even when the wheels are coming off.

I used to think comedy and combat were opposites. The two could never co-exist. One is chaos, the other is craft. One is pain, the other is relief. But now I see them as siblings. Both rely on rhythm. Both require you to say the unspeakable out loud. And each demands you be fully present in moments where the stakes are high and the outcome is unknown.

This May will mark 11 years since I was blown up. And while the scars remain, so does the voice. The one that says, “You’re still here. Say something useful.”

Some nights that voice tells a joke about memory loss or PTSD. Other times it gets on stage and tries not to flinch at the light. And then during others it wonders how many people in the audience have their own hidden war stories.

But every night, that voice remembers that laughter is proof of life. And that after everything, I’m still standing.

Still up. Still writing. Still here.

Observation Post is the Military Times one-stop shop for all things off-duty. Stories may reflect author observations.

date: 2025-04-02 00:15:00

From IEDs to Punchlines: What Surviving an Explosion Taught Me About Stand-Up Comedy

Table of Contents

From IEDs to Punchlines: What Surviving an Explosion Taught Me About Stand-Up Comedy

The world of stand-up comedy might seem a million miles away from the harsh realities of military service, specifically surviving an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) explosion. But surprisingly, the experiance forged in the crucible of combat provided a unique perspective and skillset that directly translated to the stage. ItS a testament to the human capacity for resilience and adaptation, and how seemingly disparate experiences can intertwine to shape a new career.

The Unlikely Connection: Trauma, Timing, and Truth

The initial connection might seem improbable, even irreverent. But consider the fundamental elements of both situations: high stakes, the need for rapid thinking, and the importance of connection with an audience. In the military, that audience is your team, your brothers and sisters in arms. In stand-up, it’s a room full of strangers, each with their own expectations and experiences.

Resilience: Picking Yourself Up After the Blast (Literally and Figuratively)

The physical and mental recovery from an IED explosion is a long and arduous process. It involves physical therapy, dealing with potential PTSD, and learning to live with any lasting injuries. It’s about rebuilding, both physically and mentally. This process of rebuilding mirrors the experience of a comedian facing a bombing set.

Facing the Discomfort: After an IED, you have to confront the trauma. In comedy, you have to confront the silence (or worse, the boos).
Finding the Humor (Eventually): It takes time, but finding dark humor in a traumatic situation is a coping mechanism. Similarly, finding humor in failure on stage allows you to learn and improve.
The Long Haul: Recovery from trauma is not linear; some days are better than others. The same goes for a comedy career; there will be highs and lows. Consistency and perseverance are key.

Timing is Everything: On Patrol and On stage

In a combat situation, timing can meen the difference between life and death. Knowing when to advance, when to retreat, and when to communicate is crucial. the same principle applies to stand-up comedy.

Pacing your delivery: Pauses, intonation, and rhythm are crucial to landing a joke. Just as crucial as a split-second decision in the field.
Reading the room: Understanding the audience’s mood and adjusting your material accordingly is essential. In combat, it’s reading the terrain and the potential threats.
Knowing when to stop: Dragging out a joke that isn’t working is like staying in a hazardous situation longer than necessary. Knowing when to cut your losses and move on is a valuable skill.

Authenticity: Connecting with Your audience

People can spot a fake. In both combat and comedy, authenticity is paramount. Soldiers rely on each other’s honesty and integrity. Audiences connect with comedians who are genuine and relatable.

Sharing Vulnerability: Opening up about your experiences, even the difficult ones, allows the audience to connect with you on a deeper level.
Being True to Yourself: Having a unique voice and perspective is essential. Don’t try to be someone you’re not.
Owning Your Story: Even if your material is controversial, own your perspective and be confident in your delivery.

From Battlefield to Comedy Club: Specific Skills Transferred

It’s not just about broad concepts like resilience and timing; certain concrete skills honed in the military proved surprisingly useful on stage.

Improvisation: Thinking on Your Feet

Military training emphasizes adaptability and the ability to react quickly to unexpected situations. That translates directly to dealing with hecklers, navigating awkward silences, and improvising when a joke falls flat. Think of it as comedic ‘course correction’.

Commanding a Room : Maintaining Control of the Situation

Leading soldiers in a high-pressure environment requires confidence and authority. That same confidence (even if feigned at first) can help a comedian command the stage and hold the audience’s attention. It’s about projecting conviction, even when you’re feeling nervous.

Storytelling: Crafting Narratives That Resonate

The military is full of stories – stories of camaraderie, bravery, loss, and absurdity. Being able to craft these stories into compelling narratives is a valuable skill, both in the military and on stage.it’s about finding the humor and the humanity in even the most challenging situations.

Observational Skills and Attention to Detail

Living in a heightened state of alert during deployment cultivates a keen sense of observation. This skill translates directly to comedy, where finding the humor frequently enough lies in noticing the absurdities and inconsistencies of everyday life. Details that others might overlook become potential material for jokes.

Navigating the Challenges: Translating Trauma into Triumph

It’s crucial to acknowledge the potential pitfalls of using traumatic experiences as comedic material. Here’s how to approach it responsibly:

Therapy First: Ensure you’ve processed the trauma before attempting to make light of it.Untreated trauma can lead to self-destructive behavior and harm your comedy.
Respectful Humor: Avoid jokes that are insensitive or disrespectful to other veterans or victims of violence. The goal is to find humor in resilience and shared experience, not to trivialize suffering.
Know Your Audience: Be aware of your audience’s sensitivities and adjust your material accordingly. What works in a room full of veterans might not be appropriate for a general audience.
Focus on Universal Themes: Even when dealing with specific experiences, focus on universal themes like resilience, camaraderie, and the human condition.

First-hand Experience: From Combat Boots to Comedy Shoes

The transition might seem jarring, but manny veterans find they are already equipped with the tools to create compelling, resonant comedy. The key is harnessing those skills and channeling them into a new creative outlet. Some vets turn the horror of the battlefield into dark humur,while others find inspiration in the bonds created amoung brothers and sisters in arms.

Reframing Perspective: Comedy allows for reframing experiences and looking at them from a different angle. What used to be a source of trauma can now be a source of laughter and connection.
A New Mission: Providing laughter and entertainment can be a new mission after military service. Creating laughter and connection can be healing for both the performer and the audience.
Supportive Community: The comedy community can provide a sense of belonging and support, similar to that found in the military.

Benefits and Practical Tips: Embracing the Funny

Here are some tangible benefits of using the skills developed in high stress situations in comedy.

improved Public Speaking: Stand-up sharpens communication skills and builds confidence in front of an audience. This skill translates to social situations and professional settings.
Enhanced Creativity: Comedy forces you to think outside the box and find new ways to express yourself.
increased Emotional Intelligence: Understanding and connecting with an audience requires empathy and emotional intelligence.

Practical tips how to use the above in order to excel as a stand-up comedian.

Write Every Day: practice honing jokes, even if you won’t use them all. Write about daily observations, news, or current events.
Record Your Sets: Analyze your performances to identify what works and what doesn’t. Try to spot patterns.
Be open to Feedback: Listen to constructive criticism from other comedians. Try to see blind spots.

Case Studies: Veterans Finding Success in Stand-Up

Several veterans have successfully transitioned into stand-up comedy,using their experiences to create compelling and unique comedic voices. Although specific names are generally protected, it is crucial to recongnize that countless veterans have taken their harrowing stories and created something new. Without diminishing the severity of their experince, making light can sometimes cut trauma down to size.

Veteran	Style	Common Themes
Veteran A	Observational & Self-Deprecating	Challenges of reintegration, cultural differences, PTSD
Veteran B	Dark Humor & Storytelling	Absurdity of war, camaraderie in the face of adversity
Veteran C	Political Satire & Social Commentary	critiques of military policy, veterans’ issues

Building a Community: Veterans Helping Veterans through Comedy

Comedy can be a powerful tool for building community and support among veterans. Many veteran comedians also work to uplift the veteran population.

Comedy Workshops: Offering comedy workshops for veterans can provide a creative outlet and a safe space to share their experiences.
Fundraising Events: Using comedy shows to raise money for veteran organizations can support important causes.
Advocacy: Using their platform to raise awareness about veterans’ issues and advocate for policy changes.

The Power of Laughter: A Healing Mechanism

Ultimately, the journey from combat to comedy is a testament to the human spirit’s ability to find light in the darkest of places. Laughter can be a powerful tool for healing, connection, and resilience. By sharing their experiences through comedy,veterans can help others heal,connect,and find the humor in even the most challenging situations. Comedy helps vets get the last laugh, and there is real healing in that.

What surviving an IED taught me about being a stand-up comedian