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During a scene in a mashup show, my scene partner and I started to argue about the fence between our backyards. I kind of remember that I initiated something about the fence, but I don’t remember a lot of the base reality setup.

All I remember is that at some point, Noelle looked at me and said “you know what your problem is? You’re a rule follower.” Or maybe she said that I was a rule breaker. The more I think about it, the fuzzier that detail is.

But I clearly remember getting the endowment of the behavior. All of a sudden, I understood game. I fulfilled the expectation that she put on me. Then someone walked on and asked a question, and we had a second game move. Then a third one.

I definitely did scenes before this where someone set things up so simply for me. I don’t know why this one made such a difference. I just know that I could go on to that stage right now and point out where we stood during that moment when everything started to make sense to me.

When I teach, I try to use that as an example of listening and accepting offers. I don’t know if I will give them the clarity they need, but I hope my explanation helps them find the scene that makes it work for them.

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Everything lined up perfectly. My birthday fell on a Friday, and I didn’t have plans to go out until Saturday. My teen movie team was on the schedule, largely because I do the schedule and wanted to make sure I could perform on the weekend. We also had a bit show scheduled. Sure, I kind of strong-armed co-founder Kristen McKenzie into moving it to that night just for me. Like I said, things worked out perfectly because I wanted them to.

I could not believe the response. I didn’t get everyone in my life to the theater, but I did get all three of my sisters and a bunch of improvisers who did all they could to make the night special. Of my four brothers, one gets a pass because he has already visited the Highwire Center, two live in Pennsylvania far enough away that it was not realistic, and the last lives in Florida. I’ll take a rain check from them for now.

The first big surprise came when my sisters walked down the street from the restaurant where they had dinner. Some innocent conversation with their server revealed that she knew me from my many trips to that place for dinner and drinks. So she sent them to the theater with a can of the beer I always order there and a candle.

Board member Jess Robey brought some sweet treats for everyone to enjoy. A pile of plain white bucket hats also appeared, courtesy of co-founder Barry Wright III. Someone broke out fabric markers, and people decorated them in honor of my appreciation of this fine piece of haberdashery.

The bucket hat thing goes back to COVID lockdowns when I would wear them in Zoom gatherings and some people would tell me, “You look dumb in them.” I stand by my choices.

People came in and out of the theater all night. We had some great shows and an outrageously fun bit show. I got to tell all kinds of stories and generally just bask in the glow of the amazing community growing at Highwire.

Sure, I could sit and worry about who did not come that night, but I appreciate the people who did and the new memories they helped me create.

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So I decided to start this potentially weekly post where I recount a scene that still brings a smile to my face years later. I will probably not name people sometimes because I don’t know if they want their names associated with the same nonsense that brings me joy.

My old Harold team, Important Screws, which still exists as an indie team, but we rarely do Harolds, had an amazing gift for group games. I could probably fill this space for months with stories of memorable group games from our run. And I just might.

One that always stands out happened in a practice. I don’t remember the inspiration, but I remember that it started with all of us as retired people feeding ducks. We tossed bread and talked about our lives and complained about things. Before I knew it, someone on the team moved across from where we stood and became one of the ducks. So we all became the ducks, commenting on these people and their petty gripes. Then someone turned us into the bread. I don’t remember what we did because I was probably giggling inside about how perfect this moment was.

And yet, fewer than 10 people saw that moment. That is the wild thing about some improv scenes. The best work can come in practice, where no one gets to appreciate the genius that can happen when a group really connects. But we, or at least I, have that memory as long as I can.

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So when the board president of enroot, a York, Pa., non-profit where I am on the board, asked me to chair the York Fringe Festival, I said Yes. I performed in the festival two years ago. I volunteered a bunch in 2025. I saw so much potential and wanted to use my show production skills to make Fringe even better.

I did not anticipate I would spend a good part of the year dealing with my prostate cancer again. (If you are new, I was diagnosed in 2024 and had successful surgery that fall, but needed radiation this year to excise some stray bad cells.) I also didn’t build in some busy periods from my full-time job into the schedule.

We pulled off Fringe this past week. I may be head of the project, but so many other people pitched in. We had hiccups and learned lessons. We suffered through the scourge of every modern-day event planner - late ticket sales - and came out on the other side mostly unscarred. We started so many conversations with “What if ...” in preparation for a smoother and better and weirder Fringe in 2027.

I will admit that in the weeks leading up to Fringe that I questioned whether I wanted to have such a large role again. I build the schedule. I communicate with performers. I try to recruit volunteers. I coordinate the flow of events. Others did more (or all) of some tasks because they have a deeper history with the event and because we all have gone through some shit. That is how a team works, and it renewed my commitment.

I want to put my lessons into action next year. I want to make York Fringe Festival 2027 a must-attend event for folks all up and down the East Coast. Keep an eye on yorkfringe.org (and York Fringe Festival on socials) because it’s about to get weirder.

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Only one of my teams practices regularly. Not coincidentally, that is a house team. I have good intentions of setting up practices for my indie teams - pretty much all of which I handle logistics for - but regularly fall short.

Part is the irregular cadence of our shows. Part is all the admin work for Highwire that I prioritize higher. Part is the fact that we have long histories and see each other all the time so have good connections.

Recently, I have started to defeat this malaise. I have set up practices for two of my teams - Teen Angst and Important Screws. I started small by targeting the week before one of our shows. For instance, Teen Angst will practice tonight before our Friday show.

This all makes sense, right? Practice makes perfect. Even if we feel comfortable on stage together, we should always find ways to improve our craft. I feel like practice can only make our shows better.

Then I go out over the weekend with my duo partner Eileen, and we put together maybe one of the best shows I have ever done despite the fact that we hadn’t seen each other for over a month, haven’t practiced in who knows how long and barely talked more than two minutes before we went on stage. We didn’t even have a show spot until Thursday night when another team had to cancel due to a conflict.

Improv is weird, man.

I don’t plan on abandoning my effort to practice more, but I will appreciate the absolute magic that can happen when you simply rely on your instincts and a connection built up over many years of performing together.

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This puts me at nine for the year. Pretty confident I can get back up to a pace of at least one a month. Individual reviews are below.

97 Orchard by Jane Zeigelman: I discovered this book when I visited the Tenement Museum in New York several years ago on the recommendation of friends. I finally picked it up earlier this year and found a fascinating look at how food changed the lives of different immigrant groups in New York at different times. Occasionally, the connection of the individual story - there are five chapters, each focused on one family from a different country/ethnicity - to the tenement was a little tenuous, but that didn’t dampen the importance of food to way people connected, assimilated and survived in early 20th-century New York. Plus, it has some cool old recipes.

Poseur by Marc Spitz: I could not come up with a more accurate description for this book by the late music writer Marc Spitz. The autobiography chronicles his transition from music-obsessed kid playing hooky to explore New York to narcissistic writer with a drug addiction. Some may chastise me for speaking ill of the dead, but that is exactly how he would describe himself. Actually, I was probably nicer because Spitz has so many issues over self worth and belonging and status that he would immediately apologize for calling himself narcissistic before admitting that he was, and that no one did it better. I found this a slog sometimes because he had deeply unlikeable qualities, but I needed to learn about a life so far from mine despite similar obsessions. Plus, he slept with Julie Bowen (I bet she loves this book).

When the Wheels Come Off by Rich Moorhead: I cannot pretend to have no bias since Rich is a great friend, but I highly recommend this for so many reasons. First off, if you know Rich, and you think you know his story, you will still probably learn things. Secondly, if you have ever started a passion project, you will want to ride the waves with him just to know that we all have difficulties on our journey. Lastly, if you love cool, funny, self-aware people, you will vibe with Rich. Support small creators by buying this book!

Thirty-Two Words for Field by Manchán Magan: My wife and I have plans to travel to Ireland later this year, so I put this on my wish list last year. She got it for me in our Christmas book exchange, and I know have a copy with many pages dogeared because I just fell in love with this analysis of the Irish language. And I did not have a highlighter by my side of the bed. The mystical qualities of the language come alive in this engaging book (which had short chapters, something that really helped me digest all the information). I will come back to this one.

Legion Tourney by Wilfred McCormick: I grew up reading The Three-Two Pitch, the first book in this series about young baseball player Bronc Burnett. I found this book - the second of the collection - at a book sale a while back. I knew one of my brothers collected the books so thought he might like it. When he told me he already had a copy (not surprised), I put it on my list. I loved reading this book on summer nights on my porch for a wild, but easily digestible, glimpse into the late 1940s in New Mexico. Sure, they have to tell you every time they mention the catcher that he is fat, and that the one outfielder is Native (although that is not the term they use). But the baseball lessons and sheer drama made it a very fun read even if I knew how things would end.

NW by Zadie Smith: My daughter got me this for our Christmas book exchange (I like hoarding these books sometimes), and I didn’t know what to expect. I had saved it on my wish list years ago. I am always up for a story about life in London. I absolutely loved the writing and the devices she used to tell this tale, but I could not stand any of the characters. I think that was the point. She definitely painted a bleak picture of a side of London that I bet most people never see.

Big Fan by Joe Posnanski and Michael Schur: Born out of a very cool friendship and an even more cool (and nerdy) podcast, this book chronicles the fandom experiences of a great sportswriter and one of the most influential TV creators of this century. But, at heart, they are still fans or at least admire those who are. If you listen to The Poscast, you have already read this. If you like Parks and Recreation, The Good Place or A Man on the Inside, you should read this. If you like sports, you should read this. If you like crossword puzzles or the Grateful Dead or anything that can turn into an obsession, you should read this.

World Cup Fever by Simon Kuper: I knew about his previous book Soccernomics, but had not heard of this one until my daughter got it for me for Father’s Day. I didn’t even have it on my wish list so appreciated the extra effort since the 2026 version of the tournament had just started when I downloaded the book. Kuper wrote about his experience covering nine World Cups and has some incredible insights and access. As a former sportswriter (nowhere near on his level or experience), I understand his jaded attitude toward so many things, but love seeing how his children help him keep the passion alive as they grow up friends of the dominating French team (where they grew up). As we see the latest FIFA scandals broiling, this provided some great context to the mess that has always been international soccer.

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Even with horrific weather leading up to the start time, we had an amazing group of eight people. In the second half of the night, I got the opportunity to lead what I believe is the perfect exercise for improv neophytes.

Panel of Experts.

I try to do this every time I work with a group just starting out, whether it is one of these one off workshops or a level one class. I believe this is a foolproof way to show people the power they have within themselves.

First off, you endow them with all the knowledge of whatever subject their character is an expert in. That takes away the worry that they might say the wrong thing.

Secondly, you instruct the group that they should not contradict one another. They can introduce new evidence or provide a different perspective, but making them all equally smart levels the plane field.

Lastly, as moderator, you ask the questions. This removes that typical pitfall of new people finding their way through a scene. You are giving them information to work with and putting them in a position of high status.

At the beginning of these kinds of events, I always tell people that I want them to leave feeling as good or better than when they entered. I can think of no better way than giving them an opportunity to be a complete expert in any topic we throw at them.

And that’s a great way to make people think about signing up for a class after one of these events.

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Well, not really, but my nephew and his wife did share something about their three kids that made consider how comedy instincts work.

For context, they live in a neighborhood close to the route for the July 4th parade in the town where I grew up. This is a huge parade, and they host a cookout early in the day for family and friends.

This year, they and some other friends in the neighborhood decided to rent golf carts for easy access to the parade. The streets are already blocked off for the floats to line up so it would save them time and also provide a little bit of extra fun.

At one point, their kids insisted that their parents take pictures of them in the golf cart becase we all know that kids make things up better than anyone.

They proceeded to do a series of three poses. First, they had the youngest sit in the driver seat, and the other looked scared because a 7-year-old was driving. Then, they had the middle child drive and everyone acted as if it a big party was happening because she brings that energy. For the last one, they had the oldest in the driver's seat, and they all looked calm because she's the most responsible.

After they told me the story, I just looked at them and said, "that's improv." I was kind of kidding, but they nailed so many things that make improv work when you just focus on the basics.

First of all, the age-old rule of threes. They obviously fell into this because there are only three kids, but they did not belabor it and create extra scenes.

Second, they created distinct characters and situations. One kid shouldn't be driving, one oid brings the party, one kid had things under control. Everyone was scared, everyone was partying, everyone was calm.

Third, they shared focus. They have a healthy dynamic between the three of them, making sure that everyone got their turn in the driver seat.

Lastly, they took what they had available to them. They saw golf cart and knew that they probably would not always have a chance to sit in a golf cart. So do the thing now.

As improvisers, we need to remember the power of repetition while also creating memorable situations. We need to share focus, and we need to use what we have at our disposal.

Lots of other little things can contribute to a successful show or scene, but these four can always stand as tent poles for anything we want to do.

Just remember to play like a bunch of kids with access to a gold cart.

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Swear Jar Jamboree is a four-day festival in Philadelphia run by my good friends Gabi Swain (you can hear her talk about SJJ on a Yes, Also bonus episode) and Andy Miller. They booked my game show Surprise Surprise for the opening night show last Thursday.

I appreciated this so much, mainly because I could not make any of the other nights because of my family’s annual beach trip. I gladly made the 24-ish hour run to Philly to do my nonsense on stage.

SJJ started last year as a one-day event to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Gabi and Andy’s team Swear Jar. To see it swell this year to four days made me so happy. I felt so bummed I could not stay for more than Thursday because they had so many great teams and individuals coming to town.

An unorganized list of why I heartily recommend this event:

• They have embraced more than just improv. My block had a clown performer and a sketch team. And my show is not your standard improv show (I am happy to bring it to your town).

• They are stealing ideas from places like Camp Improv Utopia - where I met Gabi and Andy - to enhance the performer and audience experience. This includes built in social time and jams. This is not just an improv festival. It’s a community event.

• Philly is a super cool city, and the Proscenium at the Drake is a cool theater

• They had plenty of people helping and really clear explanations of what was happening, even for someone who didn’t clearly read the pre-festival e-mails and did not realize that they had 50 minutes for their show and not 25 as they had thought (that would be me)

• I loved their workshop lineup. Some well-known names with some folks I am not familiar with, but wished I could have taken their workshop

• These are good people doing fun things. That’s the perfect recipe for a great festival

I return to Philly in early August for Yo Adrienne, another one-night trip because of my other show schedule. Teen Angst, my improvised teen movie team (which also will travel) performs at this one. I am loving these close-to-home events where I can see my friends and make new ones.

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But it all worked out. We ended up having a decent-sized crowd. We didn’t have our full team due to a bunch of reasons, but that didn’t matter. We do a mix of long form and short form, and our coach chose short form games that involved everyone to make sure we kept the energy up.

Nights like this remind me of a Yes, Also episode with Will Choi. He tells a story from his early days when Harrison Pak, another LA improviser, gave him advice. This has stuck in my head ever since.

Until I looked this up today, I remembered the quote using the word comfortable instead of confident, but I think the message is the same. The more you do it, the more natural it becomes, which makes the nights that don’t seem perfect less scary.

The element I try to add is having fun. I always want to have fun. This is why I hate notes culture where some people feel they need to have the set dissected IMMEDIATELY after coming off stage. We are so lucky to get to do this amazing thing. Why do we want to tear it down in the moment? How can you gain that feeling of confidence or comfort if your first instinct is to discuss the bad parts first?

I didn’t start writing this as a screed on notes (which are valuable, but let’s not make them the point of the process), but I hadn’t posted in a while and just wanted to get some things out of my brain.

Find the joy, find the confidence, find the fun. The rest will take care of itself over time if you just let it.

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They will, of course, roll their eyes and declare that Pop has lost his mind.

But I did! Really!

Highwire hosted Kevin McDonald earlier this month, and he needed to get some snacks for his hotel room between a workshop and his show.

I happily took on the duty of getting him back and forth between places, and giggled internally as we walked the aisles looking for his preferred snacks. I think one guy in the produce section did a double take when he saw who was perusing bananas.

When we opened the Highwire Center, I really wanted to install a program that brought guest artists to teach our community. Quite serendipitously, Kevin reached out to us late last year. I could not believe our good fortune, and we immediately set the wheels in motion for this weekend.

We learned a lot in this whole process. Planning, organizing, and logistics for future trips will go smoother because of this experience. Visits like this don’t happen magically. There are a lot of logistics involved in getting someone like him to town, including working with a bigger theater since our room only seats 40 people. Thankfully, we have a great relationship with Creative Alliance, an arts organization up the street, and we were able to use their space for the Saturday night show.

I did not expect to feel residual joy when I watched audience members meet their hero. The pure thrill these people felt simply because we’d arranged for this man to come to town was something else entirely. I loved watching a guy point to his Blue Jays jersey and say, “I wore this for you!”

I also got a kick out of sitting back Saturday night and watching my friends absolutely kill it on stage with him during the improv part of the show. Our amazingly talented improv community in Baltimore killed it on stage with a true comedy legend, especially when he lay face down on the floor to be the rug in a scene.

The weekend flew by. I learned so much from Kevin in the workshops, and really enjoyed the short trips back and forth talking about comedy and life with him. The cumulative experience of working with him makes me hope I never lose the excitement of coming upon a good comedy idea.

The noise Kevin McDonald makes and the way his eyes bug out when he gets that feeling overjoyed me. I want to always feel energized by comedy. I do now, and don’t see that going away ever, but I have such good fortune to be in this position, and never want it to feel blasé. Not even while walking around the grocery store.

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I wanted to spend time with my wife, and we used to go to the movies all the time. I’m talking 2-3 movies a weekend before we had a kid. We’re not cinephiles - we generally looked for goofy comedies above all else - but we loved the experience.

That slowed down as parenting and life took up more time. And it really slowed down after COVID. And it really really slowed down when everything turned into a superhero movie or horror film.

I decided to change that over the holiday weekend. I got extremely excited when she also said she was up for seeing The Sheep Detectives. I needed simple and silly. Man, did this movie deliver.

I had listened to a Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast about the movie so I had some reference going in, which elevated the experience for me. Add in the fact that my wife loves British mysteries which means I have listened to a million British mysteries, and this could not have worked out better.

From Brett Goldstein as the voices of rambunctious twin rams to Emma Thompson as the posh lawyer, they could not have picked a better cast. I didn’t even mind the 110 minute running time even though I think all movies should be capped at 100 minutes.

I hope the movie is successful because I want more movies like it.

I got unreasonably giddy. My old Harold team Important Screws plays together when we can, but we have maybe done one or two in-person Harolds since March 2020. We certainly had not practiced one.

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But if Kristen - who was on the team with me when COVID hit - wants to do a Harold, we’re doing a motherfucking Harold.

Three of us from the pre-pandemic team hit the stage Friday. One other had a last-minute emergency. A fifth who was an original Screw, but not on the team in March 2020, had a conflict. I really missed them.

I really want to keep this team alive. We had a great run before the world blew up. I honestly rank Screws as the favorite team I have been on.

Our show Friday showed why. My levels of excitement remained ridiculously high for hours after the show. We really nailed it. I don’t usually re-watch shows, but I will watch this one for sure.

This is why we do the things we do to keep teams alive and plan shows. Indie improv has a magical feeling when people who love playing together have one of those special shows like we did.

This doesn’t always happen. I get it. We all have busy lives with multiple nights of practice and shows. We may have to squeeze in dinner after our performance or get home to our families. But I still love it when I see a roomful of improvisers showing appreciation for their friends.

That happened this night, which made the room feel full and vibrant even though the sales report might not have shown that. I have to keep reminding myself we have only opened the space for eight months. We still have to establish ourselves in the minds of the community. And not everyone is always in the mood to go and laugh in these current times.

That is why performers supporting each other can help so much. If we only come to do our show and leave, how is that helping the community or even in problem general Hopefully one day we will have to tell improvisers that we just don’t have room for them. But for now I love when folks take the time to support their friends or catch a team they have never seen before.

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During the set for my teen movie team Teen Angst, I was playing the weird Dad of the two main characters. I called for a scene with this character in his apartment. In my mind, I had said that I was sitting in my apartment. I did not say the word “sitting.” What followed was completely my fault.

I stepped behind and around a chair someone had been sitting in. I held my arms in front of me (doing precise object work analyzing my Lego Millenium Falcon. I went to sit in the chair I thought was behind me. It was not behind me. Again, my fault completely. I never said to leave the chair and walked BEHIND it.

Halfway down, I realized my mistake and just rolled with it. The audience gasped. I finished the scene. We made fun of it in multiple scenes. I escaped with little more than a small scrape on one elbow.

I didn’t feel embarrassed at all. I felt lucky to get a chance to do one of my favorite shows with some of my favorite people in a beautiful space we didn’t have nine months ago. I felt great that folks from the earlier shows had hung out to watch the later shows. I felt happy that I have done enough shows to know that this moment would just go away.

I spend a bunch of time teaching folks in those early improv years where every little decision can weigh on your mind for hours, days or even longer. You overanalyze everything as you try and make each show special.

But each show is special. It is special when you have a great show. It is special when you have a bad one no matter how hard that is to accept. And it is special when you go ass over tea kettle in front of a dozen or so people on a Friday night. I have the video to prove it.

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Part of this came so I could push myself to write more sketches. I produced Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, a showcase of my sketches, in York, Pa., in 2023, but have not had a chance to put together a second version of that show. Thanks to Instant Sketch, I have written four more sketches (one for each Instant Sketch night) and think I have a better idea of how to improve my earlier scripts as well.

I went into last week’s Instant Sketch with one goal - get to the game quickly. I recently noticed when reading another one of my scripts that I spent way too long setting things up. I think the writer part of my brain makes that mistake sometimes and plays coy with the premise. I wanted to avoid that this time and write something really tight. I needed the improviser in me to act quickly.

As part of my continued “jump in the deep end” mindset, here is the sketch that came out of that exercise.

Bloody Mary

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This took just about 30 minutes (I am a pretty quick writer and had the general premise locked and loaded, but nothing written). I definitely want to give it another pass and lean more into the “I am disappointed this house isn’t haunted” vibe,” but I like what I got out of this exercise.

Sometimes we overcomplicate things. We think people need (blank) levels of classes before they can put a show together when sometimes they can just hit the ground running and figure it out. Let’s lean into trusting the creativity and fearlessness of people. Especially ourselves.

Over drinks after a recent jam, one of them asked me how long it took until I felt I was good at improv. I told them that I thought I was good about a year in. But I wasn’t really good until about 4 years. And even then, I don’t feel like I was truly good until 5 to 6 years in.

The way improv classes work can give new improvisers a false sense of security. Sure, they have been taking classes for nine months, but that is likely only two to three hours once a week. When I finished teaching Highwire’s Level 3 class a few months ago, I pointed out that they had only truly received 40 hours of instruction.

That’s just one work week. Even if they got super ambitious and went to a bunch of jams and took advantage of other opportunities, they still fell short of one biweekly pay period as an improviser.

As teachers and coaches, I think we need to keep reminding folks falling in love with this art form about these real-world perspectives. None of this should discourage them, but put their inevitable frustrations in context.

They have just started on a path that can provide them with so much enrichment and need to know that everyone has been “in their head.” If they find the right kind of community, they will always have another opportunity to get on stage even when they feel like they are stuck.

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I want to better explain how to teach the difference between a callback and a reference.

For these purposes, a callback brings back something from earlier in the show in a strategic way that often surprises the audience (and sometimes surprises performers on stage). A reference merely talks about something from earlier in the show. Or from an earlier show. Or from a scene earlier in class. Or just inserts the word suggested before the set.

I don’t want to sound too critical of people who do the second thing. We encourage newer performers to listen and use information from the beginning of the show to inspire later scenes. We tell them to respect the suggestion as a way of proving that we have not prepared anything. We elevate the power of the callback.

That leads them to search for those golden opportunities to cement themselves in the memories of others. I don’t blame newer performers for any of this. I just want to find ways to help them find the right balance.

I am loathe to create too many rules or sound like a gatekeeper, but I am starting to think of two ways to pave the path forward as I try to better teach this skill:

1. Occasional sets/runs of scenes/exercises where you are not allowed to use the suggestion word. Let’s really work that A-to-C muscle and truly use it as an inspiration, not an assignment.

2. No references to things from earlier in class or in another show unless the exercise specifically calls for it. In some of our classes, we do a “Classwide Callbacks” exercise, which is a bunch of third beat-style scenes pulled from things that happened during class. That’s cool. Inserting something from another group’s scene is fun, but doesn’t have any solid connection to what you are doing.

I struggle with trying to stifle people’s creativity while also giving people the tools to make their scenes as memorable as possible. I think if we do these things as occasional exercises and not make them blanket rules, we can increase the percentage of successful callbacks for newer improvisers.

The Hobby: I don’t watch many documentaries, but I think I heard this recommended on Pop Culture Happy Hour. I really enjoyed it, especially since I have a lot of friends in the gaming space. I wish I had more time to play some of these games so I can totally see the draw. All in all, a nice look at a super cool community. I watched it for free on Tubi (not sure whether there were commercials or not).

Fisk: Another Pop Culture Happy Hour recommendation (at least I think so) that went down smooth. Each of the three seasons of this weird Australian comedy clocks in at six episodes, making for solid binging. I mostly watched them one at a time over lunch. So many amazingly odd and hilarious characters. I hope there is more or that Kitty Flanagan graces us with another hilarious project. Find it on Netflix.

Taskmaster Champion of Champions, New Year’s Treat and Season 1 (re-watch): The completist in me had to do these, plus I wanted to watch the initial season to see how things had changed. It’s amazing how the DNA has stayed mostly the same, although I do miss when they do things like make Josh Widdicombe do a series of monotonous tasks that only he had to complete just to mess with him. YouTube has ALL of Taskmaster.

Death by Lightning: You will enjoy this way more if you don’t research the historical accuracy. It is raucous and puts to shame people who talk about “how things used to be” even if they took many liberties. But it was a wilf, fun ride about the short presidency of James Garfield. Nick Offerman is a treat, as expected. Stream it on Netflix.

Man on the Inside (Season 2): Ted Danson + Mike Schur + the rest of that cast = gold. The added bonus for me came with the college campus setting. I love getting into the minutiae of higher education’s problems, especially when Schmidt from New Girl (Max Greenfield) plays the vapid president. Another great ride that I hope doesn’t end any time soon. Find it on Netflix.

Happiness: My wife found this New Zealand treasure on PBS, and I can’t recommend it enough. At six episodes, it takes almost no time to binge. I did it all on one night over break. The story revolves around a community theater production (easy sell for me) where a haughty performer/director takes an already rocky production off the rails. Super light and fun with some incredible acting. A Season 2 is reportedly in the works.

Naked Gun: We hardly ever sit and watch a movie together, and we missed this in the theater so we made time to do it one night with dinner. Scratched an itch and clocked in at about the right length. We need more movies like this - silly for the sake of silliness. Amazon Prime is where we watched.

Bridgerton Season 3 (rewatch) and 4 (new season): I prepared for the new season by re-visiting the magical season of Penelope and Colin (well, mainly for Pen). Then I returned to The Ton (on Netflix) to find all kinds of glorious messes, almost all of which were cleaned up by the end of the final episode. I really enjoyed this storyline and emitted an unholy yell on the reveal of the new Lady Penwood. I can’t wait for Season 5 so we can finally see Francesca not be a bore.