A. The first decision, whether to talk about it, was simple. I'm a political, topical kind of a guy. That's my gig. One of the reasons I dig my gig, is because of the challenge. If I go on stage and pretend nothing is going on, its ludicrously bogus, so there is no decision as to whether; the whole question is what? What's funny. How to speak of the unspeakable. Every comic has experienced Krusty the Clown's plaintive query "Too Soon?"

Q. Do you think that people who attended comedy clubs during that first week wanted to hear about what happened or did they want to escape what happened?

A. I had two experiences. Because I couldn't get out to New Orleans to fulfill my commitment at the New Orleans Comedy Festival, which I grievously regret, I was free to fill in when Lewis Black couldn't make from New York to Cobb's (Comedy Club in San Francisco). And that was the Thursday and Friday after 9/11. The crowds seemed to be unsure whether it was okay to laugh or not. Unsustained titters. Nervous laughter. Couldn't get a roll going. No weight behind the laughs. Then the next week I had a previously scheduled week-long gig at the Punch Line and every night was like a pep rally. I don't know if it was the crowd, or me, both of which had time to reflect, and absorb the nature of the horror, or what. Probably, the crowd knew exactly what I was going to do, and sought it out. Thinking of putting out a limited edition CD of Saturday night's early show. It was that good.

Q. As a headliner, did you want your opening acts to address such subjects, or is it best to leave it to the closer?

A. I'm of two minds here. A headliner should be able to follow anything. Anybody. Jugglers with fiery kittens on a unicycle. But when the opener burns all your premises without punchlines, that's when the steam escapes and I pace backstage checking the clock. That's the whole problem with All Political Comedy shows. Especially during the last two years of Clinton when every two-bit hack seeking a role as the wacky, dufus, neighbor-next-door on a UPN sitcom became a political comic by switching his dick jokes to Presidential dick jokes. No names. You know who you are. But of something of this magnitude, I think people are cheating themselves if they don't plumb their depths and share how they feel. Would love to do a show in New York of just comics addressing the event. "Event." Nice word, huh?

Q. What role do you think humor might play in the healing of the nation?

A. Think of this atrocity as a giant emotional beanbag chair dropped on our heads. Comedy doesn't do anything to lessen the weight but it does provide a handle making it easier to lug around as we go about our now alien-seeming daily business.

Q. On The View Joy Behar said that "Now is not a time for laughter and I think that any substantial person realizes that." What do you think?

A. Of course I disagree. Of course I don't live in New York. Who knows, if I did, my View might be different. Nah, I don't think so. Comedy is defiance. It's a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. Laughter allows hope to creep back on the inhale. People need to laugh as a testament to our return to normalcy.

Q. Some comics are feeling guilty about just doing their acts and not addressing the subject. Should they feel guilty?

A. Of course not. We are the healers. We are the 14th century barbers leeching them of their dread. We make people laugh out loud against their will. It's an honorable profession. Do it anyway you can. Make people forget the outside world. I just do it different. Not better. Not worse. Different.

Q. You've never been shy about your liberal political leanings. There seems to be a spirit of bipartisanship in Washington and among pundits and the like, do your jokes need to be more bipartisan as well? How long before this dissolves into rancor?

A. A week. No, I think you might have that perception wrong. I'm not strictly a liberal. For twelve years I railed against a Republican administration and I can understand the rep, but I did the same thing as an opposition butt burr during Elvis' reign. I'm a populist. A blue collar schmoe who tries to translate the government blah blah into layman's language. I'm the "Will of the People." Yeah, right. But as far as mocking and scoffing and taunting the President, that will have to be put on the back burner for awhile. He may be a pinhead, but he's our pinhead, Goddamit and I'm going to support him. For a while.

Q. Do you think the comedy club industry will survive the coming months?

A. Yeah, I do. As a matter of fact it might get better. One thing that occured was the Gen-Xers got over their monumental case of crisis envy. Must have been sick and tired of Baby Boomers telling them how easy they've had it. "You don't know what it was like. Losing the Kennedys, Malcolm, Martin Luther King, then the Vietnam War. You just don't get it man." Up until experiencing the events of 9/11, their protestations were weak: "I still remember where I was when I heard Michael Jackson's hair caught on fire. Then Entertainment Tonight ran it over and over and over. And his pitiful screams, 'Tito. Tito.' And Tito never came. I'll never forgive the NFL for choosing to play that weekend. Never." Maybe they'll want some gravitas in their laughs. Sitcoms might be in a coma for awhile. Then again, they might be a refuge. This helps, right?

Q. After witnessing the events at the WTC, some comics thought they would never be able to do comedy again. Did that thought ever cross your mind?

A. The death of comedy? Yeah, because it happened after Kennedy died. There was no comedy for a long, long time. Of course rock and roll helped kill nightclubs, but also not a whole lot was funny for a long time. Fortunately, we're sicker now. Or at least less innocent, thus less vulnerable.

Q. What was the very first joke you wrote about the disaster?

A. There was a bottom screen crawl on MSNBC that read, "NYC reports no unusual looting." Apparently it was just the normal Tuesday night load. Then I wrote the "where's Cheney" bit, which still makes me laugh just thinking about it.

Q. Do you find that performing and commenting in a public forum is helping you cope?

A. No, I find that performing and commenting in a public forum helps me breathe. You don't understand. Some of us have to do this. We are round pegs facing square holes. We are outcasts and misfits and generally screwed up people. When it works on stage, its better than drugs and sex. It's better than a burger at a ballgame. It's oxygen.

Q. Will fear of travel shift the standup industry to a more regional business?

A. Are you kidding. I'm traveling as much as possible. It's cheap out there right now. Got to get those frequent flyer miles while the gettin's good.

Q. Pat Paulsen ran for President but never expected to win. Should audience members really look to comics for any sort of real leadership or is our role only to entertain?

A. No, all we can do is say the things they always thought but couldn't verbalize. You can't make people from onstage. All we can do is let them know what they think is just as important as anybody else's opinion. Make them think they can think. Which they can. We can empower them but not change them. But our first responsibility is to make them laugh. That's our job. That's how we get hired back. Make 'em laugh first and fit the trenchant opinions inside the punchlines.