Comedian Tom Papa wants you to feel a little less alone. He knows life is full of chaos and disappointments — crappy meals, fear of the dark, and endless bad news — but instead of letting it crush you, he invites you to laugh about it. His Grateful Bread tour, much like his baking, takes those troubling parts of life and turns them into something easier to digest.

In his latest special, Home Free, Papa jokes that when his kids moved out, he should’ve been the one to go — his whole life had revolved around them. Now it’s just him, his wife, and a house full of leftover pets. My 13-year-old daughter and I were howling by the end, especially when he broke down the insanity of living with all those “animals.”

With six stand-up specials, his podcast Breaking Bread, and roles in both TV and film, Papa has been a mainstay in comedy for more than 20 years. He’ll be performing at Moore Theatre on Feb. 8.

We caught up with Papa to talk about Seattle, what makes good comedy, and why people blasting videos in public make him question humanity.

Have you been here before? What’s your perception of the city?

I love Seattle. I’ve been coming there for years. It’s a great comedy town above all else.

What makes Seattle a great comedy town?

The audiences there are just perfect. They’re smart, and the weather’s just bad enough that they’re not totally happy.

So I guess we’re all a little depressed?

Not depressed. Just a little cynical. Just a little like, “We get it. Life isn’t perfect, so we have to find some laughs.” If you go to San Diego, the audiences aren’t as good.

Do you have any plans while you’re here in the city?

Yes. My fans always send me recommendations about where to eat and find good coffee, so I’ll be busy. I’m coming in a day early because I’m hosting Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me! the night before. Seattle is one of those cities where you can just walk around with a coffee, have one destination in mind, and see where the day takes you. Last time, I was with my wife and we took a ferry to one of the islands and walked around there. Approaching Seattle from the water was a very cool thing to do.

You talk a lot about life’s quirks onstage. What’s something you can’t believe we all just deal with?

Well, there’s the big stuff that we can’t get away from — like, you just want to look at your phone for something fun, and you’re just inundated with bad news. Your friends are now your news source. Even if you swear off the news, your friends will pop up and tell you. It’s like all my friends have become Wolf Blitzer.

And there’s small stuff, like people watching videos on their phones in public without any kind of earbud or headphones. I still can’t believe someone will stand an inch from you, boarding a plane, and watch a video at full volume. Airports are even making announcements about it now, and you know the bad behavior has gotten worse when they start to include it in the rundown before take off.

You’ve been in comedy a long time. How has the industry changed?

It’s great now. There used to be a lot of gatekeepers. Now you can build your own career directly with your audience through podcasts, YouTube, and specials. The great thing about standup is if you’re funny and the people like it, that’s it. You don’t need anyone to “let you in.” It’s been great for me and for younger comics who wouldn’t have been heard 20 years ago. Now they have an opportunity because there’s no denying it.

Do you mentor younger comedians?

I always take them on the road with me. I like telling people what they should do with their lives, so whenever someone asks for advice, I’m happy to give it.

If you weren’t a comedian, what would you be?

Sometimes I think I’d be in sales because I like talking to people. But I wouldn’t be a hard-sell guy. Another dream is to work for a community newspaper — writing the funny column in the back for a small beach town.

This is something I’ve always wondered about. You probably don’t bomb on stage anymore, but when that has happened, what’s the first thing you do when you come off stage?

Walk directly to my car or my room.

And just be alone?

Yeah. Just get me out of there.

What’s your advice for other comics when that happens?

It just happens once in a while. It’ll happen if I do a corporate gig or something and it’s a culture that wasn’t looking for comedy, or if they just got bad news and you have to get up there and do your thing and it just doesn’t work for whatever reason. I guess my only advice would be it’s not a huge reflection on you. If you’re funny 20 times in a row and bomb once, it’s probably the circumstance, not you. But if you bomb again tomorrow, then maybe you should start to worry.

When you watch other comedians, are there ones whose jokes you wish you’d thought of?

Yeah, I’m lucky to be friends with most of them. I really like people who do things that I don’t. Gaffigan, Seinfeld, Brian Regan — they’re my style, but I love watching people like Maria Bamford and Sarah Silverman. They’re so unique. Leanne Morgan is another one. They’re all doing their own thing, and it doesn’t bump up against mine.

You’re a baker. How did you get into it?

I was writing on a TV show when another writer started explaining sourdough baking to me. I told my family about it, and for Christmas, my daughter got a starter going for me. I made my first loaf off this living yeast, and something about it just hooked me. I’ve never been a precision person, so I thought baking would be beyond me. But bread is somewhere between cooking and baking — it’s kind of forgiving.

Touring has to come with some weird meals. What’s the most depressing tour meal you’ve had?

What’s depressing is when you’re in some hotels, and you see they have room service. So you get room service, which seems like a good plan because of the timing. You know, I’ve gotta get to the show or I’m coming home late, and I’m like, okay, well at least they have room service. And then they show up at my door with a paper bag with the room service in it — it’s a leftover from Covid. It’s like, oh, I thought I was actually going to eat. And now I’m just burrowing through the trash, looking for food.

Describe the Grateful Bread tour in three words?

Well, I’m not counting “A.” A unifying good time.

That’s good. I like the “unifying.”

Yeah. You will laugh harder than you have all year. I guarantee it. And you will leave feeling a little less alone.

That’s great! Good comedy connects people.

We’re all going through it. You’re walking around thinking this is the worst and you have it worse, but really, we’re all looking at the same stuff and digesting it. Comedy lets us digest it together for a couple hours. It kind of diffuses it.

Absolutely. And the things we feel so alone and ashamed of — it’s freeing to know others have those same thoughts and feelings.

Yeah. You’re not as bad as the guy on stage.

 

Catch Tom Papa at Moore Theatre on Feb. 8.