6.7 / 10 Comedyview... -

By the end of the night, the applause was solid. Not deafening, but hearty.

"I don’t want to be a Honda Civic, Marty," Gary whispered. "I want to be a Ferrari. Or at least a mid-sized SUV with seat warmers." 6.7 / 10 ComedyView...

The room started to warm up. Gary wasn't trying to be the funniest man on earth anymore; he was becoming the patron saint of the mediocre. He leaned into the rating. He joked about the "6.7" feeling of a lukewarm shower, the "6.7" joy of finding a five-dollar bill in an old coat, and the "6.7" thrill of a green light that turns yellow just as you pass through. By the end of the night, the applause was solid

That night, Gary didn't go out with his usual upbeat strut. He walked onto the stage with the slumped shoulders of a man who knew he was 3.3 points away from perfection. "I want to be a Ferrari

0, or perhaps a about his rivalry with a 9.2 rated comedian?