By Maureen Palli

Geno Bisconte grew up in Vineland, attended college and became a banker, all the while making people laugh with his innate sense of humor. After a difficult period in his life, he quit his job and moved to New York City, where he’s making a name for himself as a comedian. He’ll make you laugh - and he’ll get you thinking.

Where do you perform?
I host "It’s Comedy People" at Caroline’s on Broadway. It’s a stand-up show, where comics perform, and between acts I interview them. I also perform at Stand-Up NY and have toured all over with Artie Lange. I’ve been a regular on The Kidd Chris Show on WYSP and I’m on The Scott Ferrall Show on Sirius Satellite Radio. Ferrall’s show is sports talk and I’m on-air for Monday Night Football. I love football, and I’m very good in the moment. My act changes, based on whatever is going on. I make it look like it’s exactly what I had planned.

What was it like growing up in Vineland?
I had a blissful childhood. My parents were great. I do domestic violence jokes about them and some people say it’s wrong, but I disagree. My dad never hit women, he never came home drunk or smashed up his car and he never told me not to do those things. He just never did them and you learn by example. Mom got up every day, made us breakfast, went to work singing and came home singing. We lived on a farm and my mother’s brother and sister owned houses on the property. Dad was a farmer and Mom was a teacher. We had a big yard with a basketball court and it was just me and my brother Peter, because no other kids lived close by.

You graduated from the University of Delaware with a business degree. How did you end up in comedy?
People say I’m always on. I’m not always on, I’m just like this. I’m very enthusiastic. My parents taught us not to take ourselves too seriously. When we did something stupid, their attitude would be: You’re an idiot, now do it again so we can all laugh and you can see what you did. It was great! After college, I worked at Chase Bank in Wilmington, where I sat at a cubicle, crunched numbers and got paid, but I hated it. People suggested I do stand-up, but I didn’t think I could be funny on purpose. My girlfriend signed me up for an open-mic night, and I did great because all my friends were there. Then I did a show where I didn’t know anyone in the audience, and I bombed. That’s when I realized it was going to be hard work, but I knew I wanted to do it. I was fortunate, because I met Bob Levy from The Howard Stern Show, who took me on gigs and taught me everything. I worked full-time and performed comedy at night for seven years, before I took a leave of absence from the bank.

Why did you take a leave of absence?
My dad got lung cancer and before long, it was everywhere. While Dad was receiving treatment, a doctor noticed red dots on my mother’s arm and they discovered she had leukemia. The day I took Dad home to begin hospice care, Mom went into the hospital. Dad died quickly, thank God, but Mom was lying in a hospital bed while he was buried. They gave my mom six months and she lived for eighteen. I stayed in Vineland and commuted to Delaware and started to hate everything. If you’re not strong about who you are and what you’re doing, it takes over you. You get miserable and it beats you. When my mom died, I got really angry and had a big trip of self-pity. I took a leave of absence and went to Europe for six weeks. When I returned, I decided to work as a bartender and focus on comedy until I had to get a real job again. Fortunately, that hasn’t happened.

You’ve been quoted as saying you think stand-up comedy is the closest thing we have to modern-day philosophy. What do you mean?
Comics are like philosophers because they get up in front of people like Plato and Aristotle did. I know it’s an exaggeration, but they have something to say and they’re not hiding behind a guitar, a political affiliation or a teleprompter. They’re getting up there and saying: "This is what I believe. I’m not speaking for anyone but me and if you get it, come along for the ride."

On stage you joke about a 16-year-old boy who killed nine people before committing suicide. Why joke about that?
That was terrible, but it annoys me because it could have been avoided. After the tragedy, they discovered he had been visiting depression, death and murder websites on a computer in his home. The New York Times ran his class picture and he had taken his hair and made it into devil horns. It wasn’t some file photo, it was his class picture! Remember class picture day? Everyone wanted to wear their concert t-shirt, but your parents didn’t let you because they were proud of you and they were raising you right. That picture was a red flag. Kids come home and say, I want to be a fireman, I want to be a doctor - but, I want to be Satan - that’s a problem.

Why make people laugh at things that aren’t funny?
There was a time in my life when I wasn’t laughing, but once I got past all the self-pity, I realized it’s a miracle just being here. This is the life you’re in right now. You gotta enjoy it. It’s easy to laugh at what’s funny, but let’s laugh in the face of everything that’s not funny. A kid shot up the school? I’m gonna laugh at the parents who can’t raise their kids. People have cancer? I’m even gonna laugh about having cancer.

Are you worried your comedy will offend people?
I think political correctness is becoming like racism. It separates people. If I tell a joke about color and someone doesn’t laugh, they’re saying that’s a black person and I’m a white person and I can’t laugh. Why? They’re looking at color and not the person. Once you get past all the adjectives, we’re all people.

Are any topics off-limits?
Look, everything is fair game. I can’t sit there and do the simple jokes anymore. I said I could never be a teacher like my mother. My brother became a teacher, and I think it’s amazing to have the patience to teach. But there’s a little more of my mother in me than I first thought. I realize now that I’m trying to teach people stuff. I know that gives my comedy more weight and credit then it deserves, but people walk away thinking. Maybe they don’t laugh - and don’t get me wrong, they usually laugh because I’m hilarious - but they get it.

What would be your dream job?
I’d love to host The Late Show and take over what David Letterman has done, but I’m sure many comics aspire to that. As far as my goal, it’s to keep doing what I’m doing and see where it goes. If I’m still doing this in 20 years, that’s fine. My dream job is this - wake up, pay my bills, do comedy - this is my dream job.