Ryan McKee

He works comedy club rooms with the unhurried pacing of someone who has no use for television polish. His hour in Sane(ish) Again turns messy domestic reality into clean narrative setups: buying an alpine green Subaru during a manic episode because it matched his tracksuits, adjusting to new hearing aids, or splitting rent in his forties with a college-age roommate. The material lands hardest when he leans directly into the stupidity of his own rationalizations. It dips whenever he drifts into broader observations about generational habits, where the perspective softens into standard showcase territory.

Before bringing these stories to the stage, he spent years writing for late-night television and picked up an Emmy that he openly treats as an embarrassing footnote. That past is mostly useful as contrast. On stage, he sounds like someone who survived a rough stretch and decided every humiliating detail was fair game.