Features 01/13/01

LDS funnyman pokes gentle fun at carrots in Jell-O, five-parent families
'Mom . . . Dad . . . Mom, Mom, Mom, I want to be a comedian'

By Derrick Frazier

PROVO -- "I hate people who ask to try on my glasses, only to say `Wow, you have really bad eyes, can you even see anything without your glasses?' Think about it, we don't go around asking handicapped people if we can sit in their wheelchairs and then say, `Wow, you have really bad legs, can you even walk without your wheelchair?' Seriously, that's just rude," says comedian Scott Murphy as the crowd chuckles in appreciation.

Murphy is the opening comedian for the head-liner in Johnny-B's, a private comedy club in Provo. He has been in the business for less than six months and already is the second biggest draw the club has.

According to his manager this means Murphy is a cash-cow. According to Murphy this means only that if they were to start laying people off he would be the second last to go.

"I don't think I've ever seen a kid his age catch on to the big scheme of things so fast, comedy-wise," says Johnny- B's manager Jeff Johannessen. "It's like he never steps out of character, he's as funny off stage as on, and he never gets burned out."

According to Johannessen, Murphy is a natural comic. Johannessen feels that some people just put out a vibe that's funny, they can make people laugh without even saying anything. Johannessen goes on to explain that a big part of stand-up comedy is things you can't teach, like facial expressions, appropriate timing of pauses during jokes, and knowing how to involve the crowd without making them uncomfortable.

"Murph absolutely kills me, and I've seen it all in this game, so that's saying a lot," Johannessen says. "He could end up making a pretty good living doing comedy if he sticks with it."

Murphy says that most of his material for jokes comes from being observant. He simply watches people. He carries a notebook and whenever he sees humans behaving like humans he can't help but see it as humorous and he jots it down.

He says he finds this type of humor is easy for audiences to relate to, and true-to-life situations get the best response. Most people don't take themselves so seriously that they can't admit when a joke applies to them, according to Murphy.

Coming from a conservative, work-oriented, Mormon background Murphy says it wasn't easy to tell his family he was going to be a stand-up comedian.

"I sat my folks down to tell them and I was nervous what their reaction might be. I said Mom . . . Dad . . . Mom, Mom, Mom (a reference to polygamy) I want to be a comedian," Murphy says with a smile. He says people in Utah love jokes about their religion as long as they are light-hearted and not sacrilegious.

One of his favorite things is to show the ridiculousness of some misconceptions about LDS culture. He says he was approached by someone from San Francisco asking him about the Mormon's practice of polygamy, and couldn't help but think it was old news and decided to illustrate his point.

"Jeez, I don't know, but how' bout that Gold Rush, what's the latest on that," Murphy asked excitedly.

Most of Murphy's opportunities to ply his trade come at bars, nightclubs, and private parties. According to Murphy, without fail at least one patron comes up to him after each performance to ask him questions about his faith. While he doesn't mind this in the least, he is amused at the frequency of his opportunities to share his beliefs, considering that he served a two-year volunteer mission and had to struggle for such opportunities.

"I guarantee if I was wearing a white shirt and tie and riding a bike, they would lose interest really fast," Murphy says, laughing.

Murphy is a 25-year-old student at the University of Utah, majoring in health administration and hoping to graduate soon. He is originally from Washington and has also lived in Virginia, Tennessee, South Carolina and Kentucky.

Besides comedy his hobbies include playing basketball, singing karaoki to Barry Manilow and racing his Hyundai Accent in competitions. His interests are so wide ranging and complex that he feels some people are intimidated by it. He believes the social separation caused by his demeanor led to his curiosity with people and things. For example, not having grown up in Utah, he notices the idiosyncrasies that many locals take for granted, such as the fixation with Jell-O salad in Mormon society.

"I shouldn't criticize anyone for their culinary efforts," Murphy says. "After all, my family thinks that Thanksgiving dinner at Chuck E. Cheese's is where it's at. But I do have to say that shredded carrots in Jell-O is disgusting and wrong, even MY mom wouldn't pull something like that."

Murphy's mother lives in Yakima, Wash. Her name is Maggie. She is originally from Canada, but raised her three children in the United States. Her husband died when she was pregnant with their third child, and she has never remarried. Murphy feels he gets his sense of humor from his mom. According to Murphy, she always tells the kids that their father is only on vacation in Chicago and will eventually come back, probably with presents for them.

"She always calls us her little bastards," Murphy says with a smile in his eyes. "My mom is a strong lady, I never would have amounted to anything without her in my life."

Maggie Murphy doesn't accept any of the credit for the successes of her children. She praises the Lord for the opportunity to raise `three lovely babies,' and only asks that they give her grandchildren in return. This has yet to happen.

"I tease Scotty about being impotent but I'm only kidding, although he does drink an awful lot of soda-pop," Maggie says, slight concern showing in her voice. Maggie is confident that he'll get married eventually, despite having `his daddies ears.'

If she could change one thing about Scott, she says it would be to stop him from playing so many pranks. According to Maggie, he was always in trouble while growing up, and the police in Yakima paid more than one visit to the Murphy residence while Scott was in high school, usually pertaining to some minor act of vandalism (like toilet papering the mayors' house). On more than one occasion since Scott moved to Utah, Maggie has received phone calls in the middle of the night saying that her dog is running loose in the neighborhood, her car headlights are on, or some other concoction of Scotts' imagination to get her worrying and out of bed. She of course is initially alarmed, only to realize that it is her eldest son prank-calling her.

"I actually would rather the ungrateful child do weird stuff like that to his poor momma than not to call at all," Maggie says in a lecturing tone of voice.

Like many good comedians Murphy doesn't hesitate to poke fun at himself, especially his appearance. A portion of his routine is dedicated to depictions of dating faux pass, mis- communications with the opposite sex, and embarrassing bodily functions. `Ahhh to be young, in love, and have gas' is the theme of one of his rants. He spends a few minutes relating his "rules of dating" which are a big hit with the guys but cause one girl to yell out, "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

The "rules of dating" are as follows:

1) A woman is to be seen and not heard.

2) A woman is to speak only when spoken to.

3) If you spend $20 on a girl she owes you....

4) If any cute girl asks, she is your cousin.

5) She should walk five steps behind you.

Murphy then attempts to settle the ladies in the crowd down by saying that he has never hit a woman. . . .with a closed fist, that is. This only serves to excite the boo's he is getting in good nature. He then talks about his ex-girlfriend and her affinity for purple clothes, thus leading to her nickname, Barney (as in, the purple dinosaur).

He says he always wanted to say to her, "I love you, you love me," but was afraid she might not get it and he would be held to his professed love later on.

Murphy brings attention to his larger than normal ears by pretending to catch radar signals and translate Morse Code messages. He claims his size 13 feet and subsequent rocky dance moves are the only thing that kept him from being one of the original Backstreet Boys. He says his lack of a muscular chest is often compared to a wet blanket.

"Seriously, I need to join a gym, I'm saggin down like an old broad," Murphy says with an exasperated look. "I can eat cereal out of my inverted chest cavity."

As his part of the show comes to a close he usually apologizes to the faceless audience in case he has offended anyone.

"If anyone bigger than me was upset by anything I said, I sincerely am sorry, but if anyone scrawnier than me isn't happy with it, they can kiss my butt," Murphy says, flexing his biceps and laughing.

This tough-guy act is a farce though, according to Johannessen. Johnny B's regularly helps local charities raise money for holiday gift boxes and homeless shelters, and Murphy is the energy behind these activities. His manager claims that without his dedication nothing would get done in the way of community service.

"Murph loves to see people smile, especially people who haven't smiled for a while," Johannessen says. "You would think he would be too cool for programs like these, lots of college kids are, but he just loves the kids and has a good heart."




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