On National Tell a Joke Day, Damon Wayans Jr. picked up a hotline sponsored by Laffy Taffy candy, and sifted through 10–15 second zingers—short jokes with fast punchlines and no wasted words.
His criteria were ruthless and straightforward. “First and foremost, it has to make me laugh,” Wayans Jr. said in an exclusive interview. “The best ones will be jokes that I’ve never heard before or surprise me with a hilarious and clever punchline. If I hang up wishing I’d thought of it myself, you know it’s a winner.”
That economy of movement had always tracked with how he worked. Raised inside one of comedy’s most influential families, the younger Wayans learned early that timing could make or break the same line. He didn’t complicate it.
“Timing and reading the room are key. My dad always said that comedy isn’t rocket science—it’s either funny or it’s not,” he said.
The second part—sounding like himself—came from stripping away everything extra. “I try to be myself and not take myself too seriously, which has always brought the most laughs, whether I’m on a TV set or stand-up stage.”
Those lessons showed up in his screen work long before he hit the road. Fans knew him as Brad Williams on Happy Endings and Coach on New Girl, two characters with very different rhythms. The contrast taught him where to breathe and when to press. “Playing these roles taught me that timing is incredibly important in comedy,” he said. “Even though Coach and Brad are different, knowing when to pause or push to make the joke land was something I brought to both characters.”
Lately, Wayans Jr. had been leaning into stand-up, city after city, testing lines and chasing that full-room laugh. It wasn’t just about new bits; it was about building the kind of connection you feel more than you analyze. “I’ve been touring stand-up lately across the country and having a blast. The crowds have been incredible! It’s more important than ever to create those moments of connection over something as simple as laughing together at a good joke,” he said.
Ask him what kind of material the moment demanded, and he didn’t rush to declare anything played out.
Wayans Jr. had seen waves of styles crest and fall, and he respected the cycle. “I think in 2025, there are so many great different joke styles, so it doesn’t feel like there’s anything that’s really overused. It’s been fun to see the evolution of comedy as a new generation starts taking the stage,” he said.
If there was any “comeback” he endorsed, it lived in the low-stakes space where groans turned into giggles. “No need for a comeback since they’re still here, but I’m always sharing dad jokes and bringing back jokes from my childhood to crack up with my kids,” he said.
That track—clean setups, clever twists, a premium on timing—fit the moment. It also made sense for a performer who grew up around professionals who treated funny like a craft, not a mystery.
Wayans Jr. carried that lineage without being trapped by it. He borrowed the mechanics—pacing, pauses, reading the room—but kept the voice his: relaxed, self-aware, and nimble enough to land in a club, on a set, or in a 12-second punchline someone could still remember on the way out.