He’s not baptized

From serving laughs to Minnesota crowds to serving in the Air Force, Tommy Thompson brings his calm yet jovial demeanor with him.

For Tommy Thompson, a boring lifestyle does not equate to a lack of material.

Tommy Thompson

For Tommy Thompson, a boring lifestyle does not equate to a lack of material.

Spencer Doar

What: Tommy Thompson

When: Wednesday at 8 p.m.; Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and 10:30 p.m.

Where: Joke Joint Comedy Club, 801 Sibley Memorial Highway

Cost: $15

Ages: 18+


The cover of Minneapolis comic Tommy Thompson’s album, “Disappointed in You,” is a serving of cocktail weenies with a shot and a beer.

He took the photo with his cell phone at a local dive. What illustrates Thompson’s sense of decorum is not that he took the drunken picture, but that he decided that, of all the images in the world, this was the one he would place on the cover.

It’s been a long grind for the bar food-loving Thompson, who has been active in the Twin Cities for the past decade.

“Those first couple of sets are real dirty, and you’re real choppy,” Thompson said. “I remember the first set went pretty well; then the next five went really poorly.”

He’d always wanted to perform in some way and got the idea to start doing comedy from his brother Shannon Thompson, another local comedian. Tommy Thompson was writing some material for his brother when he said that Tommy Thompson should just perform it himself.

Tommy Thompson kids that he is at a slight disadvantage in his family as he is the only one who isn’t baptized, an occurrence he attributes to his parents slowly losing faith in God as they had more kids.

Now he tours with his brother every couple of months.

 On the road, the self-proclaimed technology addict remains cooped up in hotels with his gizmos and gadgets.

Thompson freaked out when he initially found out that his girlfriend of seven months did not have cable or internet at her apartment.

“Now she asks me to Google everything for her,” Thompson says. “I’m her internet.”

 His relationship has calmed him down a bit, his wry grin less likely to be seen during the witching hour.

Ironically, he’s a bartender.

Thompson is doing what he wants, how he wants. No longer is he an Air Force mechanic or a dental equipment repairman, rather Thompson is a blue-collar, working comic.

He tells stories that are embellished rather than fabricated entirely for the stage.

Take when he passed out having sex — the next morning he struggled to find the condom, eventually figuring out that it was still inside the woman.

His own amusement at his previous experiences adds potency to his jokes and his humor.

“A lot of [my material] has been building up frustrations and then letting them go,” Thompson said. “It’s those little things that make you grit your teeth.”

Now that he cohabitates with his girlfriend, he has plenty of those moments to draw upon. But he is not the busiest of people.

“I wake up when my girlfriend goes to work,” Thompson said. “I look at the news; try to hit the gym — this is sounding really depressing.”

It’s that kind of honesty that makes Thompson if not charming, then at least an amiable sort who’d be easy to share a drink with, not just because he serves them.