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WHO SUCKS

Two hours after the Harvard Speaks event, the Harvard College Stand-Up Comic Society meets in Quincy’s Spindell Room. The club’s abbreviation is intentional—“HCSUCS” as in “HC Sucks”—and there are members who support a change to the Harvard University Stand-Up Comic Society. (“Put this in the article: I want them to call it HUSUCS,” O’Donnell tells me. “‘HUSUCS? We suck.’ We could have a motto.”)

The meetings give members the chance to present three minutes of comedy and receive critiques from the group. This evening, Devon M. Guinn ’17 gets up to tell an anecdote about overhearing someone in line outside a party that she “would rather take a butt swab” than continue waiting. “I’m not weird about it, but I have a pretty healthy fear of things getting stuck in my butt,” Guinn says.

“I liked it, but you say stuff a little too quick. You could benefit from pausing at points,” Morone tells him when he finishes.

“Last time you told me not to be so scripted, so I tried to be less scripted,” Guinn says.

“Yeah, well, you still sucked,” Morone deadpans.

There’s laughter, and the other members give Guinn advice about which lines to turn into punches, or elaborated upon and made into new jokes. They applaud when he sits.

This is what HCSUCS provides for campus comics––the opportunity to test their material in between writing it in their iPhones’ Notes and performing it for an audience. “When you’re onstage, a joke either succeeds or it fails,” HCSUCS member Julia N. Becerra ’16 says. “In the meeting, it’s whether people laugh or not, and then they’ll give you feedback.”

The group’s membership has grown in recent years, from six comics in 2010 to about 25 presently, HCSUCS co-president Fitzpatrick estimates. Becerra joined this year. She appreciates the generosity of the other members’ critiques—as well as analyzing her comedy, they contribute new jokes to her set. “Everyone works together to make [each] person’s set better. That’s the idea,” Becerra says. “There’s no coveting of, ‘Oh, I made that joke, you can’t have it!’”

The Harvard comedy community is more than a helpful feedback mechanism for Becerra—it’s why she decided to pursue stand-up. In high school, she had no exposure to comedy as an artistic discipline or the focus of an organization, she says. Working with comedy aficionados in college introduced her to the craft and to a community that would help her improve. “It’s really not what I expected because everyone’s so knowledgeable about something that you’re never taught in an official way,” Becerra says. “I realized that you could really look at it as an art and work on your craft. It’s very cool.”

—Staff writer Austin Siegemund-Broka can be reached at austin.siegemund-broka@thecrimson.com.