Comedians

The boozy white noise of a recent Saturday night crowd at the Comedy Store on Sunset Boulevard confronts comedian Ari Shaffer as he starts his act. Sensing the lull, Shaffer tweaks the audience, "What's the matter with everyone, is it the recession?" That gets the laugh, and Shaffer moves on, but his riff on the current economic malaise isn't the last that evening.

Open mike nights can sometimes be their own special circle of hell -- for the performer and the audience. (It's below the heretics but above the wrathful, sullen and slothful.) But they needn't be. Within this world of two-drink minimums and three-minute showcases, you can avoid the most demoralizing open mikes and stick to the ones that are only mildly disheartening. (We kid because we love.

On his HBO show, "Real Time With Bill Maher," the comedian routinely makes vicious fun of celebrities, politicians, presidents and even God. But he's learned that, for much of his audience, Barack Obama is off limits. Not long after the historic presidential election, Maher joked that Republicans were feeling particularly superstitious: "They say the country is having bad luck because there's a black cat in the White House."

Comic Ray Hanania nervously paced backstage at the Spertus Institute of Jewish Studies and occasionally peeked around the velvet curtains to gauge the mood of the school's packed theater. The downtown audience -- Arab businessmen, a Palestinian professor, Jewish students and Israeli families -- glanced curiously at one another and quietly chatted in their seats. Some fidgeted nervously. "Think it'll be like Tel Aviv?"

The generals, to put it mildly, can't take a joke. But the Moustache Brothers make their living mocking fools, including those who wear military uniforms. So they have drawn a battle line in this country's long struggle for democracy with a small stage that cuts across their cramped living room, site of the three-man comedy troupe's nightly performance. The military regime silenced street protests last fall by arresting and, in some cases, shooting peaceful demonstrators.

MARC MARON was one of the regular guest stars on the sorely missed "Dr. Katz" series from Comedy Central, and his recent stand-up performances seem to represent one of those career trajectory pivots that makes perfect sense.

In comedy as in dance, there is an art to partnering: It takes strength and grace, a willingness to step back, to blend. It is harder than it is supposed to look. Although he was more than a straight man -- and he was a great straight man -- Harvey Korman, who died Thursday at the age of 81, made a career out of helping other people look good. The very definition of a supporting actor, he won four Emmys (out of six nominations) and a Golden Globe (out of four) not drawing attention to himself.

Comedians and satirists here have learned what their peers across the country are finding out about making fun of Barack Obama. Some things are fair game: his age, his lanky physique, his Ivy-League-meets-street-slang vernacular, even his cautious nature. And some things simply aren't. Obama, they've found, is not quite the easy target that his presumptive GOP opponent, 71-year-old Arizona Sen. John McCain, is.

As Mel, the psychotically besotted fan on HBO's cult hit “Flight of the Conchords” -- the deadpan adventures of New Zealanders Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, a musical duo taking New York not-so-much by storm -- actress Kristen Schaal has struck a sort of geeky gold. She's inspired YouTube montages and lately garnered print love from Bust magazine and McSweeney's The Believer. Yet thus far, hers has remained a simmering sort of celebrity.

One last chorus of "Thanks for the Memories" echoed across Bob Hope's battered office desk and joke-writers' table Monday. Mementos from his 70 years of showmanship went on display in Beverly Hills as Hope's family gathered the entertainer's favorite golf clubs, hats, signed presidential letters and thousands of other personal items in preparation for a weekend auction.