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Ever hear a single sentence change someone’s life? That’s how Jay Flake’s story starts—cracking jokes in a corporate training room when an older coworker told him he’d missed his calling. One open mic later, the Nashville comic found his lane: high-energy, true-story material that feels lived-in, then sharpened it into a clean-comedy brand that books hard and lasts longer.

We dig into the gritty rise that rarely makes the highlight reel: Zoom corporate sets, underground rooms, patio shows, and a pandemic album that hit festivals even as the video stayed shelved to protect the brand. Jay breaks down why some jokes belong to their moment, how cleaner material unlocked better gigs, and how to translate everyday chaos into bits that crush without cheap shots. The COVID talk is raw and hilarious—taste disappearing mid-breakfast, a hotel deodorant “taste test,” and the lonely, surreal weeks that turned survival into stories.

The craft gets equal airtime. Jay salutes Bernie Mac’s fearlessness, Dave Chappelle’s ease with ordinary ideas, and Ali Sadiq’s storytelling and business blueprint: drop on Patreon, expand on YouTube, then license to streamers for a third check. We also walk through Andrew Schultz’s clip-first playbook and the discipline behind album timing—finding minutes, trimming fat, and protecting your voice. Plus, the green room rules nobody teaches: listen more than you talk, guard private shop talk, and treat owners and managers like the partners they are.

Want the laughs and the ladder? This one gives both—part origin story, part strategy guide, and packed with practical moves any comic or creator can use right now. Tap play, then check Jay's 13-minute NateLand showcase and see the craft in action. If this conversation hits, subscribe, share it with a comedy friend, and drop a review with your favorite takeaway.

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Smoke-filled sets, long quiet drives, and the stubborn joy of getting the joke right—this conversation with comedian and writer Ed Phillips digs into the parts of comedy most people skip. We start with the real: improv roots at a Virginia Beach Cinema Cafe, the three-month wait to get a shot, and how those early reps shaped his timing, listening, and confidence on stage. From there, Ed explains how sketch sharpened his structure and why his best stand-up sticks close to lived moments—like a Blue Ridge camping trip that became a vivid bit about fear, friendship, and a maybe-bear.

We talk craft without fluff. Ed breaks down how he studies specials and sets across HBO, YouTube, Hulu, and beyond, pulling lessons on economy, escalation, and callbacks from comics like Sinbad, Mitch Hedberg, Josh Johnson, and Ramy Youssef. Mentorship takes center stage too. Honest notes from veterans like Mike East Mill cut years off the learning curve: kill weak tags, fix the angle, and don’t post half-cooked material just to feed the algorithm. There’s wisdom in letting a joke live in rooms until it’s ready for the internet.

Then we zoom out to the 757 scene. Producers are building better rooms, comics are pushing past the comfort of hometown applause, and the real growth comes from traveling—testing whether your voice lands outside your zip code. Ed shares wins (hosting at BlurCon with Orlando Jones), losses (that “brave” compliment every comic dreads), and the recovery rituals after smoke-lounge gigs and late nights before a 6 a.m. shift. Through it all, his philosophy stays simple: write honestly, perform widely, learn quickly, and dress sharp because it’s you—not a bit.

If you care about the craft—how jokes are built, how scenes evolve, and how comics keep going after the rough nights—hit play. Subscribe, share with a friend who loves stand-up, and leave a review with the best lesson you learned or the biggest bomb that made you better.

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What happens when you trade a boardroom for a black box theater and decide to start from scratch in your 50s? We sit down with actor and stand-up comic Sheri Gill Dixon for a fearless, funny, and deeply human conversation about falling in love with movies as a teenage usher threading reels, discovering Meisner training in Virginia Beach, and building a comedy voice that lives or dies by instant feedback. Sheri takes us behind the scenes of big sets like Tammy—where she held her boundaries without apology—and shares why watching Melissa McCarthy and Kathy Bates work reminded her that kindness and professionalism scale.

The heart of this conversation lives on stage. Sheri breaks down how she moved from the safety of scripts to the risk of stand-up, why writing often happens mid-set, and how crowd work can surface sharper material than any quiet desk session. We talk influence and range—Joan Rivers and Moms Mabley opening doors; Richard Pryor, Bernie Mac, Dave Chappelle shaping storytelling; Seinfeld’s polish and Miss Pat’s punch; Thea Vidale’s relatable grit—and how those threads weave into a voice that’s unmistakably her own. We also get real about women in comedy: the scarcity baked into flyers, the myth of one chair, and how the Ladies of Comedy pack flips the script through collaboration, shared opportunities, and relentless support.

Beyond the mic, Sheri opens up about motivation that isn’t Instagram-ready. Working in transit surfaced daily inequities; the George Floyd era pushed her toward doctoral work and sharpened her belief that art can ease what policy cannot. Comedy becomes the pressure valve and the bridge: a room that laughs together, even for an hour, carries less weight home. We swap notes on good rooms and cold crowds, choosing where to spend your energy, and the quiet power of a stranger saying your set made their night worth the babysitter.

If you’re navigating a late start, eyeing a pivot from acting to stand-up, or building a creative crew that resists gatekeeping, this one’s for you. Hit follow, share this with a friend who needs the nudge, and drop a review with the moment that stuck with you—what leap are you ready to take next?

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