6.7 / 10 Comedyview... -
ComedyView was the judge, jury, and executioner of the local circuit. Their algorithm tracked laugh decibels, joke density, and—crucially—the "Post-Show Relatability Index." Gary had spent ten years crafting a set about the existential dread of buying artisanal cheese, and the internet had responded with a collective, "Meh."
Inside the green room, Gary stared at that number on his phone. 6.7. It was the statistical equivalent of a shrug. It was "fine." It was "I didn’t hate it, but I’ve already forgotten your name." 6.7 / 10 ComedyView...
He tossed his prepared setlist aside. "You know what’s a 6.7? My life. I have a gym membership I use exactly twice a month—6.7. My relationship with my father is cordial but lacks a third-act resolution—6.7. I once bought a 'World's Okayest Brother' mug, and I felt seen." ComedyView was the judge, jury, and executioner of
"It’s a respectable score, Gar," his manager, Marty, said, while aggressively peeling a hard-boiled egg. "It’s a high C. It’s the 'Honda Civic' of ratings. Reliable. Safe." It was the statistical equivalent of a shrug
"How’s it going, Springfield?" Gary muttered into the mic. Silence. "See, that’s a 6.7 response. Moderate acknowledgement of my presence. I like it."