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| Nu Entertainment Productions |
| Nu Magazine |
| Comedian Geno Bisconte, described by fellow comics as a fast talking wise guy that you just have to love. This Philadelphia-born, five-year veteran of the NYC circuit is leaving his mark everywhere. Geno's resume includes numerous TV appearances-including current Delaware Lottery spokesman, roles in several indie films, writer of a monthly humor column for Bud Light, and current host of two live shows-the trivia show Quizzo and now his own live NYC talk show It's Geno! Geno is currently a regular personality on Philadelphia Radio and also tours all over the country with the Howard Stern crew as well as Jim Norton of Opie and Anthony, Geno's comedy focuses on one thing - whether black or white, gay or conservative, young or old - once you take all these adjectives out, we are all just people. Laugh at anyone or anything I say, but realize that you’re laughing at yourself too, and embracing our differences through laughter brings us closer together than anything else in this world. Geno adds that his true passion - whether through comedy, acting, or anything else - is making people laugh. I argue that there is anything more beautiful than another persons smile sometimes it just takes a dick joke to bring it out! Told ya he was lovable. |
| Who is Geno Bisconte? |
| Geno is the host of the very popular monthly show, "It's Comedy People!" The show's format changes from stand-up comedy routines to talk show when after each performance Geno and his guest sit in director's chairs on the stage as Geno conducts his interview. The laughter continues and there is plenty of audience participation during this part of the show with a question and answer segment. I was thrilled when I was invited to attend and photograph "It's Comedy People!" a few months ago. Performing that night was; Big Jay Oakerson, the lovely Maria Borigo, Lance Weiss Mike Vecchione, and John Fisch. (Click on any photo below to view photos from the show) THE NEXT SHOW IS WEDNESDAY JANUARY 9TH AT 7:30 P.M. Featuring the stand up comedy and interviews of Doug Saulnier Gina Brillon Shuli Vince August call 212-757-4100 or visit www.carolines.com |
| Above photo by David Michael Howarth Photography www.dmhphotographer.com |
| HOST OF THE MONTHLY SHOW AT CAROLINE'S ON BROADWAY ENTITLED "IT'S COMEDY PEOPLE!" |
| WRITER - AUTHOR A talented writer, Geno has Authored several short stories, magazine articles and a series Entitled, "The Last Word" |
| BUY BOTH FOR 20 bucks and I'll donate 5 dollars in your name to the leukemia fund! |
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The Last Word on
...................…the Holidays
I gave a lot of thought to this month’s Last Word. I figured there is an added weight as it is the final Last Word of the
year. But what to talk about? The holidays are the obvious choice I suppose. You know, pepper you with funny little
stories about my family during the holidays. Cute exchanges between my parents and the gifts and traditions we would
engage in. But I don’t know that I want to do that. I don’t even know that I can.
You see no great Christmas stories leap to mind. Sure I’d like to tell you about some special gift my mother gave me,
but none stand out. I remember the other 364 days of the year. How mom would get her two boys up for school
every day and make them a breakfast, usually of scrambled eggs. Eggs that my brother and I would eat off of the
same plate. I can see that plate now, oblong, with pinkish-maroon flowers trimmed along the edges. A plain piece of
bread topped with bacon sat in the middle of the plate to separate the portions. (She served the bacon like that so that
the oil would soak into the slice of bread, which she would eventually give to the family dog). I remember how loud
mom would play our electric player piano as we ate and she prepared herself for work, singing along to songs like
"Spanish Eyes" or "The Girl from Ipanema." I remember how we would we would start the day off smiling, laughing
and just genuinely being happy. Then she would send us off to school, wash the plate and put it back above the sink
until the next day when she would do it all over again. But that was everyday. On Christmas morning I honestly can’t
remember anything…but I remember those breakfasts and I ache to see my mother smiling as she prepares that plate
one more time.
I want to tell you how my father gave me a shiny new bike on Christmas, or an electric train set… but he didn't. I can’
t remember anything he gave me or my brother, on Christmas that is. I do remember how he would work on the farm
for 10-12 hours and come home and play whiffle-ball with us. How he’d give me 6 strikes and my brother only two
because he was so much better. I remember how dad would play cards with the family other nights, teaching me and
my brother how to play blackjack and poker. I remember how much fun we would have. I remember how hard we
would laugh when dad would try to teach mom how to play a new game. But that wasn't on Christmas night. I
honestly don’t remember what we did Christmas night; but I’m sure we spent it like every other night, laughing.
I’d like to tell you what I did the last Christmas that each of my parents were alive. But I honestly can’t remember.
Cancer has a way of distracting you from the important things in life. I can’t tell you anything about my Christmases,
but I can tell you about the times shared with my family and I will continue to do that every month. But not this
month. I need to give you more than that this month, you deserve that.
So I will tell you the greatest gift you can give anyone is laughter, but I doubt you would come to these pages if you
didn't already know that. I will tell you that this is what my parents still give me everyday, but you must already know
that as well. And I will thank you for letting me into your lives, even if only once a month, to share this gift with all of
you.
But not this month simply because I want to share something even more special, something I seldom share with
anyone-- my pain. And I want you to see the gift, yes the gift that this pain is. That this pain is so special to me
because my parents were so special to me, that if they hadn't affected me so greatly when they were alive, they would
not affect me so greatly now that they've passed. And then you will realize how special a gift I share with you this
holiday season. And should these words bring you to the brink of a tear, or the bittersweet ache in the pit of your belly
which only exists thanks to a longing for something truly beautiful that it once knew, only then can you grasp the gift
of the words I tell you now…
no one cries who does not know laughter.
The plate was the last item my I took from the house. I gave it to my brother.
Love to all of you on the holidays,
.....-eugene
Read more of Geno's "The Last Word" and other articles go to www.genobisconte.com
...................…the Holidays
I gave a lot of thought to this month’s Last Word. I figured there is an added weight as it is the final Last Word of the
year. But what to talk about? The holidays are the obvious choice I suppose. You know, pepper you with funny little
stories about my family during the holidays. Cute exchanges between my parents and the gifts and traditions we would
engage in. But I don’t know that I want to do that. I don’t even know that I can.
You see no great Christmas stories leap to mind. Sure I’d like to tell you about some special gift my mother gave me,
but none stand out. I remember the other 364 days of the year. How mom would get her two boys up for school
every day and make them a breakfast, usually of scrambled eggs. Eggs that my brother and I would eat off of the
same plate. I can see that plate now, oblong, with pinkish-maroon flowers trimmed along the edges. A plain piece of
bread topped with bacon sat in the middle of the plate to separate the portions. (She served the bacon like that so that
the oil would soak into the slice of bread, which she would eventually give to the family dog). I remember how loud
mom would play our electric player piano as we ate and she prepared herself for work, singing along to songs like
"Spanish Eyes" or "The Girl from Ipanema." I remember how we would we would start the day off smiling, laughing
and just genuinely being happy. Then she would send us off to school, wash the plate and put it back above the sink
until the next day when she would do it all over again. But that was everyday. On Christmas morning I honestly can’t
remember anything…but I remember those breakfasts and I ache to see my mother smiling as she prepares that plate
one more time.
I want to tell you how my father gave me a shiny new bike on Christmas, or an electric train set… but he didn't. I can’
t remember anything he gave me or my brother, on Christmas that is. I do remember how he would work on the farm
for 10-12 hours and come home and play whiffle-ball with us. How he’d give me 6 strikes and my brother only two
because he was so much better. I remember how dad would play cards with the family other nights, teaching me and
my brother how to play blackjack and poker. I remember how much fun we would have. I remember how hard we
would laugh when dad would try to teach mom how to play a new game. But that wasn't on Christmas night. I
honestly don’t remember what we did Christmas night; but I’m sure we spent it like every other night, laughing.
I’d like to tell you what I did the last Christmas that each of my parents were alive. But I honestly can’t remember.
Cancer has a way of distracting you from the important things in life. I can’t tell you anything about my Christmases,
but I can tell you about the times shared with my family and I will continue to do that every month. But not this
month. I need to give you more than that this month, you deserve that.
So I will tell you the greatest gift you can give anyone is laughter, but I doubt you would come to these pages if you
didn't already know that. I will tell you that this is what my parents still give me everyday, but you must already know
that as well. And I will thank you for letting me into your lives, even if only once a month, to share this gift with all of
you.
But not this month simply because I want to share something even more special, something I seldom share with
anyone-- my pain. And I want you to see the gift, yes the gift that this pain is. That this pain is so special to me
because my parents were so special to me, that if they hadn't affected me so greatly when they were alive, they would
not affect me so greatly now that they've passed. And then you will realize how special a gift I share with you this
holiday season. And should these words bring you to the brink of a tear, or the bittersweet ache in the pit of your belly
which only exists thanks to a longing for something truly beautiful that it once knew, only then can you grasp the gift
of the words I tell you now…
no one cries who does not know laughter.
The plate was the last item my I took from the house. I gave it to my brother.
Love to all of you on the holidays,
.....-eugene
Read more of Geno's "The Last Word" and other articles go to www.genobisconte.com