Joe DeRosa

Joe DeRosa starts his sets sounding exhausted. He approaches the microphone like a man who just got off a frustrating phone call and needs you to know how stupid the other person was. A typical bit begins with a minor irritant, like a bad slogan or the concept of positive energy, and escalates until his voice breaks into a high, nasal yell. He grips the mic tightly, drops his shoulders in defeat, and argues with the audience if they do not immediately take his side.

He is a fixture of the argument-heavy New York club scene, but he has taken his curmudgeon persona further than most. He actually opened a sandwich shop in Manhattan called Joey Roses, fully realizing his destiny as an aggrieved guy behind a counter. It makes perfect sense for a comic whose entire worldview sounds like it should be shouted over a meat slicer.

On stage, DeRosa works best when he defends the selfish impulse. He does not try to be likable. He thrives on justifying the lazy choice, the petty thought, and the cowardly action. He will map out exactly why trying hard is a scam and why everyone pretending to be a good person is lying. When he strays into broader societal commentary, the material can sound like standard middle-aged griping. But when he keeps it personal and small, dissecting exactly why a minor inconvenience ruined his Tuesday, you usually end up agreeing with him. He builds an entire act out of having absolutely zero patience.