I perform with a Philadelphia sketch comedy group called The Waitstaff. Because other people in the group have done a lot of hard work, once a month I get the opportunity to perform in front of a rather large and accepting audience. It is my reverent belief that this is an opportunity one should not question in great detail. It is also an opportunity to do many stupid things--such as singing folk songs about sacrificing and eating babies (four people exited the theater during this song)--that one does not normally get to do.

Tomorrow night, I will be performing what I call "The Plastic Bag Sketch." If you will oblige me, I would like to explain the simple genius of this piece of performance art. I am on stage. A plastic bag lies on the stage beside me. For a full minute, neither I nor the bag moves at all. Then, I make like the bag is attacking me. I pull it over my head and flail about the stage, pretending like I can't get it off until I finally fall to the ground and feign death.

If you think it sounds not-funny written out as such, I can tell you, your instincts are not incorrect. The first time I performed this sketch, more than a year ago, it received no laughs. That's zero points of laughter (numerically: 0.0). The audience watched in confused silence and then politely applauded when I was finished.

When we were choosing sketches for this month's show, I innocently suggested "The Plastic Bag Sketch," fully believing that it would be immediately vetoed. It was not. No explanation available.

(Note: The rest of the group is very very funny. I swear to God.)