Ege Oyuryuz –
Yes, I wanted to start the writing like this.
I wanted to grab your attention.
I probably didn’t succeed.
After all, who would read the words of a no-name comedian candidate?
I wouldn’t.
I’m just kidding.
I don’t want you to read this.
Go away.
HELP ME!

Yes, I did it again.
I’m sorry.
Anyway, you can really go now.
Do you still want to read?
Leave! You can do more important things!
Are you still reading?
Look, you’re still here!
Seriously, enough!
Stop messing around!

HEY!
(don’t go!)
Go!
(I’m trapped in this writing)
Help me!
This writing is forcing me to—-
…

Hehehe

Just kidding, darling…
What forcing?
Just go already.
(please don’t leave)
So, you’re still here…

Okay.
Then here’s my piece that I’ve written entirely of my own free will:

Hello!
Let there be a basket of greetings and a bouquet of jokes! I’d like to thank Lemonade for giving me this opportunity to write. Throughout this piece, I will shamelessly unleash the reckless horse inside me and make you laugh wildly.

Speaking of laughing, what we do at Lemonade is just that. We laugh. We spend hours on stage cracking jokes. It gets sweaty and intense, but it’s a fact that we can’t joke without an audience. We laugh together. The biggest factor that sets us apart from other comedians is, I think, the variety within our group. Laughing mothers, laughing youths, former jokesters.

I wasn’t there for the beginning of Lemonade. However, I’ve been following it since its first opening, waiting for the right moment. Therefore, I can’t say I was one of those weird relatives saying, “When I saw you, you were just a little thing; oh, I changed your diaper!” But I believe I’ve caught up with it in its adolescence. Lemonade was a slightly pimply, overconfident, confused kid. In the dark, hidden corners under Babel, jokes were being made, and laughter was echoing underground. (By the way, let’s note that some legendary names were present at Lemonade’s opening.) These underground laughs sometimes came in fantastic bursts but often turned into a long and exhausting process. Listening to 10-15 comedians back-to-back can be terrifying! Someone is always cracking jokes recklessly! Terrifying! (One day, when I went up last at an open mic, I was really scared that the audience would beat me up.)

To explain what we do at Lemonade, I need to tell you what we’re not:
We’re not famous.
And being famous is truly privileged! If you’re asking, “What does that even mean?”, I’m referring to the magical energy that comes with fame; the thin red carpet, the sharp microphone, the energy surrounding a recognized figure. It’s not a spiritual energy. Just think about it: when you’re watching someone you love or admire, like Jim Carrey’s silly faces will always make you laugh, Cem Yılmaz’s single move or word will always be funny, and Feyyaz Yiğit’s serious face will always bring a smile. What I mean is, when you step onto the stage, the audience that came specifically to see you is already simmering with a desire to laugh!

Ah, and big audiences! How wonderful they are! Let’s conduct a useless little experiment together:

Let’s have an audience of 100 people, and if only thirty percent of them laugh (which is 30 people), the remaining 70 are just smiling, thinking, “Did we not get the joke?” Now, let’s consider an audience of only 20 people; if thirty percent of them laugh (that’s 6 people), the other 15 are thinking, “What are these idiots laughing at?”

And if the audience finds you off-putting… well, that’s when you’ve really sat at the end of the stick.

Yes, that’s what we do at Lemonade. We get lost in the process, not knowing whether to sit at one end of the stick or the other. Will they laugh at political humor? Will saying “f*ck” be funny? If I make a joke about the girl in the audience, will the bald guy next to her beat me up? Can I pay rent this month? And so on.

I’ve shared how chaotic and dark this process can be for you. I want to mention that the chances of failure are high. Embarrassment, shame, bored faces, bad jokes, not being funny, and the worst—those who don’t laugh at you!

Yet, the beautiful images created in your mind by a tiny moment of success, “I made the bald guy laugh, yay, he won’t beat me up,” the joy of making even one person laugh for a moment cannot be erased by any negative feeling. Lemonade gives us this opportunity: it allows us to make others laugh and, in turn, gives us the chance to laugh ourselves. It spreads the joy of laughing together in our hands.

I’m happy to be a part of this ever-growing comedic community. For a while, I’ve just been watching and joking from afar. But during this time, Lemonade hasn’t stopped! Baturay Özdemirler, Ekiş stand-ups, and so on… you see, the lemon juice keeps flowing. The best part of such a formation is that it’s still at the beginning, still open to innovations and different people, welcoming everyone in one way or another. When we first started, there was almost no time limit at open mic nights! Nowadays, that’s gradually decreasing. As systems are built, it’s a fact that exceptions are becoming rarer. Still, Lemonade continues to behave fresh and sour towards new joiners just like on its first day. Come, watch, step onto the stage. Leave with a sour taste in your mouth (let’s hope for a good sourness!) and a smile on your face as you part from Lemonade.

And come again!