Insomniac (for once, I'm not referring to me)

So, you know how they say that you can be in a comedy club on a regular night, with a line-up of relative unknowns, and one of the big guys will waltz in unannounced to get a little practice? Yeah, well, last night, I'm out to see a friend perform, and wham, halfway through the show, Dave Attell is announced. And it's really him. And suddenly, you go from pee-wee league to the major league play-offs. Nothing against the poor souls that proceeded him - one, at the least, was pretty damn funny - but the ones that followed were terribly, terribly screwed. It wasn't just that their material wasn't as good, or their delivery, or their experience - the energy of the whole room left when Mr. Insomniac slithered back out the door.

And he was funny. All over the place, constantly stopping jokes and starting others, commenting incessantly on what was working or not, making you feel a little like he was home in his bedroom practicing in front of the mirror, and you were the mirror.