Abolish Everything Except This Show

I’ve been going to Abolish Everything since the show’s inception in March 2022, back when it was hosted in the basement venue Under St. Marks Theater for an audience of (respectfully) eight people. It was always a good time, even when there were so few of us in the crowd that Dean could literally say, “Half of this room is my coworkers,” and would still be underestimating. 

So when my boyfriend and I showed up for our first Abolish Everything in its primetime, Saturday night billing at the Lower East Side institution Caveat NYC, we were (again, respectfully) shook. Not only was the show completely sold out for the third month in a row, but there was also a waitlist line down the hallway of hopefuls praying for a seat. Could it be? Was Abolish Everything the new hot ticket?

Part of the root of my fatigue is the proliferation of what I’d like to call the “Vibe Show”: a show where the best thing about it is the ostensible “vibe” it’s trying to capture. These things are popping up everywhere, and I’m sick of them. They might be hosted at an unexpected location, like a jewelry store, or in the front of a functional bodega, like Bodega Comedy. There’s a bit of fun to the conceit itself, enough to get cool-looking clips for social media. But just like restaurants and clubs that are made just to go viral on TikTok, these shows don’t seem to put much thought into the experience of the real-life people who show up at their doors. They might be way too hot, or too crowded. And worst of all, most of the time, they’re painfully underwritten. They coast on a quirky premise (like an evil-laugh competition) or social media hype (like that autotune guy), only to painfully bore me when I finally get myself a ticket.

But Abolish Everything is the opposite of coasting. From the very beginning, it’s been a show that rewards preparation and punishes laziness. As Dean put it at the top of the night: “You know how everyone’s always complaining about how annoying theater kids and debate kids are? This show bravely asks: ‘What about both?’”

Here’s how it works: Each of the six featured comedians prepares a five-minute monologue arguing for the abolition of one simple topic. A selection from that night: Airbnb, porn, millennial doctors’ offices, the study of history, new movies, the oversimplified birthday system, flash tattoos, and “Mike Fiori’s 5-Star Clown Academy,” which was delivered by a face-painted Ben Doyle fully decked out in clown gear.

If there’s one thing comedians love, it’s complaining, and Abolish Everything takes up the mantle in a long and storied history of kvetching on stage. Think you don’t have strong feelings about our current birthday system or history PhD programs? Think again. Suddenly you will find yourself nodding along as Dorian Debose tears apart the fact that everyone gets just one day to celebrate their birthday and think: “It’s true—birthdays should be more merit-based!”

But lest you accuse Dean of fomenting a corrupt, one-party system in which the abolitionists get the final word, as with every good debate, there is ample time for rebuttal. In this case, it comes from a slew of improvising moderates—cheekily called, on the Caveat stage, “The Political Establishment”—who attempt to beat out the comedians in defense of the status quo. That night, Kylie Brakeman, Amy Muller, Andy Vega, and James Dwyer made up a seamless panel, playing a pack of feckless libs with such bravado that they almost stole the show from the rest of the lineup. Almost.

Abolish Everything is a democracy, and the crowd has the final vote in this marketplace of ideas. By a show of applause, Doyle won the day in his colorful clown suit and honking horn, taking home the “comically obvious bag of coins” Dean picks up from the bank before every show.

But by the end, I felt like the real winner. For two hours, I got to hear smart, well-paced jokes instead of fake-coy riffing. Nobody paused, stared at the audience, and said some version of: “Well, I guess you hated that.” They were passionate, assured, and capable with a podium. My modest proposal? Abolish everything except this show. I think we’d all be better off.

Get your ticket to the next Abolish Everything on Saturday, October 5th, and follow the show on TikTok and Instagram.