Welcome to the Deep Dive. Today we're doing a
really granular look at a fascinating career.
It's, I think, a perfect case study in, well,
resilience, adaptation, and really taking creative
control in entertainment. We're talking about
the journey of Canadian -American comedian, writer,
director Bonnie McFarlane. She's a true multi
-hyphenate, isn't she? Oh, absolutely. And today
we're not just... you know, listing things she's
done. Our mission here is really to track her
evolution. We're using the biographical facts,
the milestones we've gathered, but we really
want to zero in on those pivot points. Strategic
leaps, right? Exactly. Those leaps, like from
winning a regional comedy contest up in Canada
to getting onto basically every major late night
stage in the U .S. And crucially, how she seems
to have turned professional disappointment, we'll
get into that, to fuel for writing, directing,
even publishing a memoir. So for you listening.
The goal is to really extract the definitive
knowledge. How does a comedian actually maintain
relevance, like sustained relevance over decades?
Right. OK, let's unpack this. Let's unpack this
whole trajectory. And we're starting, well, pretty
far from the bright lights of late night TV,
actually. We need to set the scene, I think,
for a career that seems built entirely on self
-determination. OK, so let's start with the roots.
Geographical. familial because they give that
necessary contrast to where she ended up. The
sources confirm Bonnie McFarlane, born March
28, 1969. So 56 this year in Cold Lake, Alberta,
Canada. And that's important, isn't it? Cold
Lake. It really is because, you know, her comedic
voice, it's often very observational kind of.
dry, grounded. And you can trace that grounding,
I think, right back to her upbringing, raised
on her parents' rural farm, like outside of Cold
Lake. We're talking genuine rural life here,
maybe even isolation and that kind of lifestyle.
It breeds self -sufficiency, right? And a very
specific worldview, often skeptical, which is
gold for comedy. Yeah, you can see that. And
the family dynamic, too. Youngest of four daughters
being the youngest of four girls, especially
maybe in a rural setting. Yeah. That suggests
maybe having to fight for attention. A built
-in audience, maybe. Could be. Test material.
Maybe develop that sharp observational eye just
from constant sibling interaction. So you take
that combination, that sort of rural Alberta
setting, plus that immediate, maybe competitive
little world of four daughters. And it gives
you a framework for her material, potentially.
But the distance from actual entertainment hubs
meant that the jump to professional stand -up,
it had to be deliberate. And probably had to
work kind of quickly. Okay, so how does she make
that leap from a farm outside Cold Lake to, you
know, a stage? The sources point to the very
first step. Her first open mic happened in Vancouver,
British Columbia. Right. Vancouver. Which is
a massive distance from Alberta, geographically
and culturally, maybe. It suggests a really clear
initial move just for comedy. And what's fascinating,
apparently, is the immediate validation she got.
Like, right away. She gets on stage in Vancouver.
And a club manager, someone... whose job is spotting
talent, right? Yeah. Doesn't just say, hey, good
set. No. The manager gives her this really specific
kind of high -stakes instruction, enter this
contest. It was called The Search for Canada's
Funniest New Comic. Wow. Okay. So the manager
saw something legit fast. Yeah. And it's interesting
because maybe that manager realized, look, to
even think about the U .S. market later, she
needs a credential, like a professional calling
card from Canada. Makes sense. And she took the
advice. She did. Entered the contest and won
it. Okay, so she wins Canada's Funniest New Comic.
Yeah, and that win becomes the definitive launch
pad. For a Canadian comic looking south, I mean,
this wasn't just like... bragging rights, it
was the push she needed for the next big career
move. Like a passport, you said? Kind of. A professional
passport. It gave her the confidence, sure, but
also that demonstrable proof of marketability,
the kind you need to get attention from agents
and managers in the States. And the sources show
that transition was quick, right? After the win,
she moves directly to New York. Yep. New York
City. And it wasn't a slow build. It says she
landed both a manager and an agent pretty much
on arrival. Hang on, though. Landing major representation
immediately after coming from, like, the regional
Canadian circuit? Yeah. That sounds really unusual.
It is unusual. Highly unusual. The source material
doesn't give us like a specific anecdote about
how exactly. But the fact she got both right
away, it speaks volumes about how good that contest
winning set must have been. Right. Must have
killed. Yeah. I mean, managers and agents in
New York, they're looking for talent that can
work the U .S. circuit basically now. And having
that Canadian title meant she was kind of pre
-vetted, you know. OK. And she wasn't just content
with New York either. She kept up this crucial
bi -coastal strategy, spent time. in Los Angeles,
too, focusing on stand -up but also writing.
Right, the L .A. writing connection. Yeah. Still,
maintaining a presence on both coasts, especially
back then, late 90s, early 2000s, that sounds
incredibly tough. Whoa. Financially, logistically.
Oh, grueling. Double the travel, double the instability,
probably finding places to crash. So why? Strategically,
why was that so important? Well, the goals were
different on each coast. Right. New York really
cements your standup club credibility, gives
you those vital late night bookings. But Los
Angeles, that's the engine for writing rooms,
for development deals, maybe eventually getting
into film or sitcoms. Gotcha. Covering all the
bases. Exactly. By hitting both markets at the
same time, she positioned herself not just as
a performer, but as a potential writer. a creator
right from the start and that early strategic
diversification i think that's absolutely key
to her longevity we see that play out later hashtag
tag three the stand -up grind and late night
visibility okay so she in the us she's got representation
she's working both coasts now the next big hurdle
especially before social media really took over
it was late night tv right getting a stand -up
spot on one of the big shows that meant instant
national recognition and a huge boost to your
like headlining fiat clubs totally and And we
see her establishing that credibility pretty
quickly. She achieved what you might call the
late night trifecta. She appeared on The Tonight
Show with Jay Leno, Late Show with David Letterman,
and The Late Late Show with Craig Kilbourn. Okay,
so Leno, Letterman, Kilbourn. That's huge. For
a comedian, especially then, that's like getting
three Michelin stars or something. Pretty much.
These weren't just, you know, five minutes on
stage. They were stamps of approval from the
biggest gatekeepers in American TV at the time.
It solidified her status way beyond just the
club circuit. Yeah, it's more than just currency.
It's like an established brand identity almost.
Those sets proved she had material that worked
for a mass audience, a mainstream audience. And
that opens doors, right, to pivot into different
TV formats, which you need for sustainability.
Absolutely essential. And we see her doing that,
moving beyond just the pure stand -up sets into
the world of panel shows, guest roles, which
demand different skills entirely. Like what?
Well, she was a panelist on two really distinct,
often debate -heavy shows, Tough Crowd with Colin
Quinn. Oh, yeah, I remember that. Intense. Right.
And Red Eye W. Greg Gutfeld. Also intense, but
different. More political, maybe. Yeah, different
flavors of intensity. Tough Crowd really required
comics to think super fast. Argue points sometimes
get... genuinely kind of aggressive with their
wit. Red Eye involved more like synthesizing
current events, delivering commentary, often
with a political slant. So appearing on both
shows, she was transitioning from just telling
jokes to having like a recognizable, marketable
perspective on things. Which is a different skill
set entirely. It really is. It shows she could
integrate her viewpoint into almost a journalistic
or quasi -political setting. Yeah. And there's
another detail here that I think is really cool.
It ties her into the sort of foundational comedy
ecosystem of that era. What's that? She appeared
as one of Dr. Katz's patients on the animated
show, Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist. Oh, wow.
Dr. Katz, that's a deep cut for comedy nerds.
That show was legendary. Totally legendary. Often
improvised with, like... The absolute top club
comedians of the day, Jonathan Katz talking to
Don Marrera, Ray Romano, Laura Keitlinger. So
being featured there, even as a voice, meant
she was already operating in the highest tiers
of that New York stand -up community, recognized
by her peers as, you know, a legitimate voice.
Okay, so she's got late night, she's got panel
shows, she's got the respect of her peers. What
about specials, the sort of pinnacle for a stand
-up? Right. Beyond just guest spots, the ultimate
validation is getting your own televised special.
shows you could hold an audience, deliver a whole
cohesive hour or half hour. And she hit two major
milestones there. First, in 2005, she got her
own HBO One Night Stand special. HBO. That was,
and still is, pretty prestigious. The prestige
slot, yeah. Often seen as career -defining. Then,
just three years later, in 2008, she landed her
own Comedy Central Presents half -hour special.
Okay, Comedy Central. Different vibe, maybe wider
reach to the core comedy fans. Exactly. Two different
beasts. HBO signals that industry quality standard.
Comedy Central gives you that broader, maybe
younger, more targeted exposure. right to the
comedy audience. So hitting both networks kind
of proved she was successfully bridging that
gap between prestige and mass market appeal.
So by 2008, you look at her career on paper,
it looks kind of bulletproof, right? Canadian
success, top representation, late night trifecta,
key panel roles, two major network specials.
Seems like a straight lineup. But success is
rarely that simple, is it? Usually not. Which
brings us to a really, really important pivot
point. Or maybe a bump in the road, depending
on how you look at it. Hashtag tag I've a reality
TV hosting and the pivot points. OK, this is
where we get into something different. Competitive
reality TV, specifically season two of the NBC
show Last Comic Standing. This was in 2004. Right,
2004. Now, for a comedian who'd already done
Letterman, done HBO, entering a competition like
Last Comic Standing, which was super visible,
high stakes, that feels like a big move, like
a declaration of intent or something. It does.
But the sources reveal this major unexpected
twist. Despite all that prior success, all that
established credibility, she was the first comedian
eliminated from the competition in season two.
Wait, the first one out? The very first one eliminated.
Did you wait her? She'd done Leno? She'd done
Letterman? How does that happen? If you're already
headlining clubs and doing top tier late night,
why are you the first one voted off a reality
competition? That's the million dollar question,
isn't it? And it's critical for analysis, I think.
It probably speaks less about her actual talent.
Right. And more about the very specific, sometimes
kind of brutal nature of reality TV competition
humor. It's often different from established
club humor. How so? Well, first, the competition
itself was fierce. You have to contextualize
Last Comic Standing. Just look at some names
associated with the show over its run. Amy Schumer,
Kathleen Madigan, Ralphie May, Rish Voss. Right,
her future husband. We'll get to that. Yeah.
So it was packed with serious talent, future
stars. But the format of LCS, it often prioritized
stuff that was like easily digestible, high energy,
designed for quick TV soundbites. And sometimes
that format could penalize humor that's maybe
drier, more observational, more subtle, the kind
of stuff that kills in a dedicated club setting
over an hour. So it's possible her style, maybe
more nuanced, just didn't deliver the kind of
immediate competitive punch the show's structure
needed. Or maybe the judges or voters just didn't
fully grasp the depth of her existing reputation.
That's tough. Being the first one eliminated,
especially that publicly, I mean, that could
have been totally ego crushing, could have ended
things for some people. Absolutely. But her next
moves, they suggest she didn't see it as a defeat,
maybe more like a redirection. She seemed to
use that very public stumble as a strategic inflection
point. How so? What does she do next? Well, maybe
it taught her a lesson. Like relying solely on
stage performance and those traditional gatekeepers
network TV competition producers bookers. Maybe
that wasn't the only way. Or maybe not sustainable
long term. Because she seemed to pivot pretty
quickly towards roles that emphasized her personality,
her facilitating skills. Hosting roles. Oh, OK.
Hosting. That makes sense. Less pressure to win
a set. More about being a stable presence. Exactly.
And we see her shift into media targeting specific
demographics, which shows versatility, too. She
was one of the hosts for that Nickelodeon program,
Nick Mom Night Out. Right. Nick Mom. That launched
around, what, 2012? Around then, yeah. August
2012. Yeah. And she also hosted something called
Comedy .TV. Okay, so these roles, they require
a different muscle, like you said. Not the pressure
of landing every single joke perfectly in a five
-minute set, but the stability of being, you
know, a welcoming, quick -witted host who can
guide a show. And it probably provided some necessary
financial and visibility stability after that
LCS bump. But the real shift, maybe towards more
control, seems to come through audio, doesn't
it? Radio, then podcasting. Yes. This laid the
groundwork, I think, for the... Platform she
has now, which is really enduring. She started
making occasional appearances on the very popular
Opie and Anthony radio program back in the day.
Right. O and A. Huge loyal audience. Huge. And
she later continued appearing when it became
the Opie and Jim Norton show. Why was that exposure
so important, do you think? Well, Opie and Anthony,
they cultivated this large, very loyal, often
pretty demanding comedy fan base. They valued
raw, long form conversation, behind the scenes
honesty. Less polished. less polished and that
environment It was kind of the perfect training
ground for developing that intimate, unfiltered
persona that works so well in modern podcasting.
The audience she built there, they were probably
directly transferable to her own independent
work later. Which brings us neatly to her most
significant and probably most enduring media
project currently, the podcast My Wife Hates
Me, which she co -hosts, of course, with her
husband, Rich Voss. Yes. And this move, this
is the ultimate act of creative autonomy, isn't
it? Bypassing networks, bypassing gatekeepers.
entirely. It's like the ultimate evolution of
the comedic persona. They took their actual lives,
their personal relationship, which the public
already had some interest in because they were
both comics, and they monetized the dynamic itself.
It's kind of genius, really, turning the everyday
stuff of marriage, especially a marriage between
two comedians, into content. Right. Direct, uncensored
relationship with their audience. It's really
a modern model of comedy entrepreneurship, building
your own platform. So that podcast represents
one kind of creative control. But there's another
major pivot point we need to discuss, especially
after experiencing the, let's say, limitations
of being just a performer in someone else's system,
like the last comic standing format. She took
even fuller creative control, right, by moving
into filmmaking, actually writing and directing.
Yes. That's a huge structural shift in a career.
She decides to basically critique the very industry
she spent years navigating by writing and directing
the. film, Women Aren't Funny. Women Aren't Funny.
OK, so the title itself is provocative. Extremely
provocative. And it wasn't just like a standard
movie. It was more of a documentary or maybe
a docu -comedy hybrid. And it directly questions
that old pervasive industry assumption or maybe
just tired joke that women are inherently less
funny than men. Wow. So that's a really powerful
move. It transforms her from being like a subject
within the industry to becoming an authorial
voice commenting on the industry. Precisely.
And we have a timeline for it. The film was previewed
at Caroline's on Broadway. a major comedy club
in November 2012. Then it was officially released
in August 2014. So that, you know, almost two
year gap suggests a real commitment. Seeing a
big independent project all the way through.
Yeah. Making an indie film is a marathon. For
sure. And creating that film, which tackles gender
politics and comedy head on, feels like a necessary
response maybe to the kind of turbulence she'd
experienced, including that LCS elimination.
It's basically her saying, OK, you tried to.
Define me or dismiss me based on these weird
industry rules. Now I get to define the terms
of the debate. That's a strong statement. And
then she moved into yet another medium, the literary
world. She released her memoir, You're Better
Than Me, in 2016. Right. The memoir, which is
often a comedian's way of. like providing the
footnotes to their act, isn't it? Giving context
to the pain, the jokes, the journey. Totally.
But there's a detail about the publication here
that's really interesting and surprising. Yeah,
this is genuinely surprising and I think offers
this profound external validation for the book.
The memoir was published by Anthony Bourdain.
Anthony Bourdain, the chef, the writer, the traveler.
Anthony Bourdain. He had his own publishing imprint.
And that connection is really significant. Bourdain's
editorial brand, it was all about candor, brutal
honesty, the outsider perspective, often focusing
on people who came up through tough, maybe unglamorous,
uncompromising systems like kitchens or maybe
comedy clubs. So getting published under the
Bourdain imprint, it immediately signals something,
doesn't it? That this isn't just like a standard
celebrity tell -all. Exactly. It signals it's
likely a serious work. of nonfiction, probably
pretty raw, connecting her personal story to
maybe a broader cultural commentary. And the
content reinforces that. It does. The book explicitly
recounts her upbringing, that crucial rural farm
life we talked about, and of course her comedic
career. And make sure the reader understands
that the voice they hear on stage or on the podcast,
that self -reliant... often critical voice, it's
rooted directly in those early, maybe isolated
experiences back in Alberta. So she's basically
capitalizing on the full circle narrative. Yeah.
Turning every bit of her life right down to the
farm into, well, commercial art. Effectively,
yeah. It connects all those threads we've discussed,
the geographic isolation, maybe sibling rivalry,
the drive to leave, the struggles, the successes,
and frames it all as kind of necessary prep work
for who she became. She transformed the biographical
facts into a real literary asset. Okay, so we've
covered a lot of ground, stand -up, TV, film,
writing. But we have to circle back to something
central now, that personal and professional collaboration
that really defines her current media footprint,
her partnership with Rich Voss. Absolutely fundamental.
As we know, Farling married fellow comedian Rich
Voss in 2005. They have one child together, which,
you know, grounds that professional collaboration
in a very real share life. But their relationship
itself. immediately became the content. Through
the podcast, My Wife Hates Me, which is, by all
accounts, very successful. Hugely successful.
It's a masterful crossover, really, taking the
dynamic, the tensions, the everyday annoyances
of a long marriage, especially between two comics
with strong personalities, and making that the
core reliable output. It's daily relatable stuff,
right? And it requires minimal external production.
It just relies on their chemistry, or maybe their
anti -chemistry sometimes. Exactly. Their dynamic
is the show. And just to layer it in again, if
we look back at that competitive context, we
should remember Rich Voss was also a contestant
on Last Comic Standing. Right. Different season,
I think. Different seasons, yeah. But that shared
experience, navigating that specific, intense,
televised competition, even with different outcomes,
it must add another layer of, I don't know, shared
professional understanding or maybe shared trauma.
to their relationship dynamic. They both know
that specific kind of pressure cooker. Yeah.
And maybe what failure in that context feels
like. Yeah. They both get it. So when we try
to synthesize this whole journey now, what does
it tell us about her professional identity? We've
seen her identified as a Canadian stand -up,
a Canadian woman comedian, a Last Comic Standing
contestant, a successful Canadian expat in the
U .S., and now a resident of New Jersey who's
built this sustainable collaborative media thing.
There's a lot of labels. It is. But if you connect
those diverse roles for longevity, it doesn't
seem accidental at all. It looks like a masterclass
in strategic adaptation and crucially self -authorship.
Meaning she understood maybe early on or maybe
after that LCS experience that relying only on
the traditional stand up path clubs, late night
bookers, network competitions. was precarious,
unstable. The real key to her durability seems
to be that pivot from being primarily a performer
of material to becoming a creator of platforms
and intellectual property. So she didn't just
like survive the volatility of the business.
No, she leveraged her experiences, even the rejections
like LCS. She used them to develop IP, the film,
the memoir, the podcast platform. And that allowed
her to control her own narrative and crucially
create multiple independent. revenue streams.
It was the holy grail for creatives, right? Pretty
much. The fact that she was the first one eliminated
from a major network competition, in the grand
scheme of her career now, it's just a chapter.
An interesting anecdote, not the defining moment.
Right. Because the true story is what happened
after. Exactly. She immediately went on to do
that HBO special and ultimately wrote and directed
a film that offered a structural critique of
the very industry that contained that competition
in the first place. She literally turned institutional
failure or perceived failure into creative fuel.
She used her own experience as the material,
building a career based on authenticity, yes,
but also incredible resilience. And that ability,
that constant adaptation to media shifts, demanding
self -control over her work, that seems like
the biggest lesson anyone trying to make it in
a creative field can take from this deep dive.
Outro. So let's quickly recap this pretty remarkable
evolution for you listening. Bonnie McFarlane's
foundation, it started way back on that rural
farm, Cold Lake, Alberta. Gave her a specific,
maybe skeptical, observational lens. That perspective
gets validated early by winning that key comedy
contest in Vancouver, which acted like a professional
passport, right? Got her into the U .S. late
night scene, achieved that ubiquity. Yeah. And
then we saw those critical pivot points, especially
that very public rejection, being the first contestant
eliminated on Last Comic Standing season two.
But that perceived failure, it seemed to immediately
fuel her strategic shift, becoming a creator.
Writing and directing the film Women Aren't Funny,
which really critiqued the industry. Authoring
her candid memoir, You're Better Than Me, which
got that amazing Anthony Bourdain validation.
Right. And finally, she successfully leveraged
her actual life or personal partnership with
Witch of Us into a sustainable, very personalized
media platform that popular podcast My Wife Hates
Me, proving the value of, you know, collaboration
and just consistent output, maybe over relying
on traditional gatekeepers. Which really raises
an important question, I think, for you, the
listener. As you look at the media landscape
today, which is always shifting, given McFarlane's
success across so many different roles, stand
up panelists, director, author. or podcaster,
what actually is the single most valuable platform
for a comedian right now? Good question. Is it
still the stage, you know, where you get immediate
feedback, tighten the material, earn money night
to night? Is it the screen TV or film that gives
you maximum reach? Or is it the really personalized
medium like the podcast that builds that direct,
super committed audience that will follow you
anywhere, buy your merch, come to your shows?
Her career arc seems to suggest. Maybe the answer
isn't any one of those things. Maybe not. Maybe
the answer is the constant necessity of self
-authorship that we talked about. That ability
she demonstrated to shift her identity from being
just a comedian who performs material to being
a creative professional who creates her own platforms,
owns her own intellectual property. That seems
to be what ensured her remarkable longevity.
and allowed her ultimately to define success
completely on her own terms. And that right there,
that adaptability and control, is probably the
key knowledge we hope you walk away with today.