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Jules Posner cut his teeth in his hometown of San Francisco, where he honed his act by yelling over rowdy bar crowds, coffee grinders, and shouty vagrants that have become commonplace in the San Francisco comedy scene. Now based in Los Angeles, he is one of those comics whose writing and delivery make standup seem like it’s just a funny person talking off the top of their head. Reality isn’t far behind the illusion; his riffing paces his written material in quality.
This story, which had people screaming with laughter (and asking when he’d be back to perform again), covers the solo drinking games Jules liked to play, how having a bird shit on your head can be lucky and different reasons sobriety sucks and doesn’t.