Fun Fun Fun Fest: Fame Whores winner Chris Cubas
The victor in our "dubious talent" show claims his 15 minutes
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We saw a lot of dubious talent during this summer’s A.V. Club Fame Whores competition—singing pirates, “hacky-sack comedians,” guys (and girls) obsessed with dicks—but ultimately we had to give it to Chris Cubas, a stand-up comic who moved here from upstate New York a mere eight months ago, but who’s already made a considerable impression on the scene. As the winner, Cubas will not only perform on the Yellow Stage at this weekend’s Fun Fun Fun Fest (he goes on Saturday at 2 p.m.), he’s also entitled to the instant notoriety afforded by a profile in The A.V. Club. Here, Cubas talks about his victory, why Austin is a better source for weirdos than New York, and what it’s like being “that comic with the afro.”
The A.V. Club: Why did you enter Fame Whores?
Chris Cubas: Truthfully? I did Fun Fun Fun last year, and if you perform you get to drink for free all weekend.
AVC: Do you think it’s cheating that you entered, since you’ve already performed?
CC: I don’t think so. Everyone in the city had the same opportunity I did, and there were a bunch of comics there who already knew what they were doing—and there weren’t really any weirdo freak acts like I expected. There was that screaming guy in the bags.
AVC: And the guy whose act was insulting women in the audience.
CC: Right, and that guy shouldn’t win anything anyway. Just being a sexist douchebag isn’t funny. I did a service, I think.
AVC: Do you think New York has an advantage over Austin, as far as being a source for jokes?
CC: What? Have you seen the people that walk around this town? The other day I get on the bus, and you know how they do missing persons announcements to the bus driver, and if you’re sitting up close enough you can hear them? I heard one the other day that was “missing person, Hispanic male, age 50, missing all his teeth, last seen wearing red-checkered pants and no shirt.” That just happens here. That guy isn’t missing. Somebody threw him out. In New York and a lot of other major cities, they tend to weed that stuff out, you know. It just seems like a lot of crazies. But here, they flourish. They can afford to be a weirdo. No, man, there’s a lot of stuff to belittle in this town.
AVC: What’s your ultimate career goal?
CC: I want to do stand-up, and I don’t really care what venue I do it in—rock clubs, comedy clubs, whatever. I’ve wanted to be a stand-up since I was 8 years old, sneaking down to watch George Carlin on HBO after my parents went to sleep. I don’t need to be rich and famous. I just need to pay my rent at my apartment, and if I can do that with stand-up comedy, I’ll be a happy dude.
AVC: Is Carlin’s style of comedy what you’re most interested in?
CC: I like anybody that’s engaging, anyone who brings you into their world. I like people who have a distinct personality. You can be really funny and write clever jokes, but if you don’t engage, they just go in one ear and out the other. It doesn’t have to be political or smart, as long as it’s something that makes you understand who that person is.
AVC: How do you feel about being “that comic with the afro”?
CC: [Laughs.] It’s a good gimmick. It can get dangerous, though. Three weeks ago at Velveeta Room, I was sitting in the back near some candles, sort of nodding out, when all of a sudden I was like, “What is that smell?” Oh, just a chunk of afro burning off the back of my head. But it helps people remember me. I mean, I’d prefer they remember me for my jokes. And white people have this weird thing, where half of them see the afro and are like, “Whoa, scary.” But the other half just assume they can come up and touch my hair, like, “Hey, this guy is all right!” I am, but don’t touch me, you know? That’s the one thing I want to get out of this article: When you see me, don’t touch my hair.
