For any new comedian, performing stand-up can be a daunting experience. At times it can seem like you’re just trying out jokes in front of a crowd of dead-eyed critics waiting for the first chance they get to heckle you.

However, this is not the case at Derby. Derby is a comedy troupe at Penn State that exclusively supports female and non-binary comics. By allowing new comedians a supportive space to try out new routines, Derby allows women to take a chance and try something new without the pressure of a large, judgemental crowd.

Tonight was Derby’s first open mic night, and it proved to be just as funny as promised. I attended as a viewer, but the support that flowed from the club members almost made me want to get up there and perform something myself! Sure, I have stage fright and that sounds like actual tourture, but hypothetically it would be fun.

Each woman was given 5 minutes to go through their routine then was able to receive feedback from members of the club. By providing constructive criticism and helpful suggestions, club members helped the aspiring stand-ups to perfect their act. For instance, when one comedian told a story about her grandmother’s obvious favoritism towards the comedian’s brother, the club president, Chelsea, gave a great suggestion about playing up the contrast between the grandmom’s view of the brother vs reality.

By giving people notes in a helpful, constructive manner (as opposed to heckling), Derby acts as an opportunity to practice as well as just a way to make people laugh.

You may be thinking to yourself “Sure, this is great and all, but why would I want to go to one of these shows? I’m not an aspiring stand-up. I’m not even a woman, and women aren’t even that funny!”

Well, hopefully, you’re not thinking that last part, but even if you were, going to a Derby open mic will definitely change your mind. Outside of the benefits for the comedians themselves, attending a Derby show is a real treat for the audience member! Each performer was funny in her own unique way, whether her style of comedy focused on telling a relatable story or presenting a silly PowerPoint.

All in all, attending the Derby show was the best choice I’ve made all week (yes, even better than getting that “Freak Shake” at Redifer for dinner). I highly recommend going to the next one for anyone interested in a hilarious night of laughs and supportive female friendships.

Although I usually explore a different form of comedy each week, this week I wanted to explore a topical conversation happening frequently in comedy circles by taking a closer look at SNL’s recent firing of new cast member Shane Gillis. Gillis, one of three new cast members announced last week, was let go due to his use of racial slurs (against Asian people) on an episode of his podcast.

Gillis’s comments are even more pertinent to his situation because one of the comedians he was hired alongside, Bowen Yang, made history as SNL’s first Asian cast member. This step forward for diversity contrasts heavily with Gillis’s use of racial slurs, and because of this, it seems as though SNL made the right choice in firing him.

However, there are many in the comedy community (and beyond) who disagree. For instance, Rob Schneider, an SNL alum who is also a quarter Filipino, tweeted “I am sorry that you had the misfortune of being a cast member during this era of cultural unforgiveness where comedic misfires are subject to the intolerable inquisition of those who never risked bombing on stage themselves.” While this is in no way an endorsement of Gillis’s comments, it does go after what some call “cancel culture,” especially as it relates to comedy. How far is too far? As long as the material is funny, is there even a limit to what can be said?

On the one hand, context is important. Take the popular game Cards Against Humanity. As its tagline claims, it is the “party game for terrible people.” The objective of the game is to match white cards with black cards to create the most humorous and sometimes utterly offensive combination possible. Occasionally, even reading a combination created aloud can cause uncomfortable shudders as the borderline racist, homophobic, or ableist punchline is read aloud.

However, because these “jokes” are made in the context of a card game with close friends, their meaning carries less weight. Since the words are not actually the player’s own, and since players are not broadcasting them to a wider audience, it is understood that the underlying beliefs behind what the players are saying don’t actually exist. It should also be mentioned that while Cards Against Humanity allows for some pretty cringe-worthy language, it never has used racial slurs like Gillis.

This contrasts with Gillis’s comments because he used the slurs on his own podcast, choosing to leave them in and publish it. By consciously choosing to broadcast these so-called jokes to the world, he also is consenting to have people react, whether positively or negatively, to the things that he said. His choice to use and knowingly publish offensive language demonstrates a lack of judgment. Furthermore, the use of slurs, whatever your perspective on cancel culture in comedy, should be considered “crossing the line,” since there is really no context in which using one could be considered funny or humorous. Because of this, I believe that SNL ultimately made the right choice in letting Gillis go.

Ahh…2014. Zayn was still in One Direction, Obama was still in office, and Vine was still on our phones.

The app that focused on short, 6-second clips was exploding in popularity, as popular “Viners” like Logan Paul, Cody Ko, and Lele Pons gained notoriety and came into the public sphere. Known for their ultra-short comedy skits, millions of people watched and “revined” their content. However, sometimes the most popular content was not from established creators, but from random people who achieved virality. The short nature of Vine’s videos translated into short-lived popularity of specific vines created by no-name users.

However, a connecting thread of the content as a whole was that it was often fairly random and weird. By this time in the internet’s history, online humor had been developing its own distinct flavor, with nonsensical jokes being favored by many. Take this popular Vine. The randomness of the man’s exclamation means that the viewer jumps immediately into the joke. These quick, 6-second or fewer stories led to a punchline that came almost immediately, satisfying the internet’s thirst for quick laughs.

Even after Vine was officially shut down in January 2017, the internet’s desire for the short videos was not diminished. Instead, people created Vine compilations on Youtube that now have millions of views. However, it wasn’t long after Vine’s so-called “death” that a new short-form video app came to life.

In 2018, TikTok rose to popularity. Showcasing portrait-orientation lip-synching and comedy videos, many have dubbed it the “new vine“.

Similar to Vine, random videos go viral every day, filled with the same weird internet humor that made Vine so popular. Also similar to Vine, compilation videos on Youtube have garnered hundreds of thousands, even millions of views. So what is it that makes these mini videos so popular?

Maybe it’s the way that videos often use the same meme-ified music and setup to make slightly varying jokes. Maybe its the element of surprise, which often underscores much of the humor found on these apps. Maybe it’s simply the internet’s appreciation for the uncanny. Whatever the reason, it’s apparent that this type of short-form humor isn’t going anywhere.

The creators of Vine have announced a new app, called Byte, capitalizing on the resurgence of a type of humor that started on their original app. Who knows how long TikTok, or even Byte, might last. With luck, it might just be more than 6 seconds.

In today’s diverse TV landscape, the word “sitcom” can apply to all types of shows. From family-centric shows like The Middle to workplace comedies like Brooklyn Nine-Nine, there’s no shortage of humorous content, often just one click away.

But if you were to ask me what show immediately pops into my brain when I hear the word “sitcom” (short for situational comedy), I would say Friends. Some people love it, some people love to hate it, but there’s no denying the immense cultural impact it has had on pop culture, both in the mid-nineties and today.

Even during its original airing, Friends was not some groundbreaking or avant-garde masterpiece. Rather, it was an enjoyable, if not forgettable, way to spend 30 minutes on a Thursday night. It’s relatability allowed it to both affect and be affected by the popular culture of the era, spawning “The Rachel” haircut and the increased use of “so” as an intensifier.

However, the cultural impact of Friends does not stop there. Just as many of Rachel’s outfits would look right at home in any Urban Outfitters today, 90s nostalgia has led to a rebirth in the show’s popularity. Ever since Netflix added the show in 2015, a new generation of viewers has fallen in love with Monica, Ross, and the rest of the gang.

Of course, Friends’ renewed adoration has also brought renewed hatred. Simply search “Friends worst show ever” or “Friends is bad” on Google and you’ll find page after page of unsatisfied viewers. Aside from its overwhelming whiteness, body-shaming, and other not-fit-for-2019 jokes or plot points, Friends is often panned for its incessant laugh track. While many more recent shows have bagged the sitcom staple, Friends shows its age when you consciously listen for laughs. Drew Gooden investigated this phenomenon more deeply in his video “Efficiency in Comedy: The Office vs. Friends,” but the idea is simple: more time spent on laugh tracks leads to less time for actual comedy. In addition, a laugh track introduces a feeling of hand-holding to the viewer, as if they can’t make their own decisions about when things are funny or not.

Despite these complaints, Friends still remains a show I love to watch when reruns come on. While I may not have been cognizant of its presence (or even alive) for its original airing, watching the show now reminds me of late-night sleepovers, falling asleep to the soft jokes of 6 best friends. Sure, I know it might not be the epitome of comedy, but it serves its purpose as a nostalgic and mind-numbing reset button on a bad day or week.

Just like almost all sitcoms, the goal of Friends was to appeal to a large group of people with an enjoyable and pleasant 30-minute episode. It wasn’t made for social commentary or to express new ideas or even to influence pop culture (even if that was a side effect). It was made so generation X could see themselves portrayed on TV in a funny way. And although it premiered over 25 years ago, its (almost) timeless nature allows it to have staying power.