By Josh Gondelman — 08 Dec 2025

#161. Socks and You

Sock it to us. Sock it to us, every one.

Hi everyone,

"I had to rush the door because they told me I wasn't on the guest list," shouted the older man in a winter cap as he burst into the green room of the Birchmere in Alexandria, Virginia last Tuesday night. My eyes widened in surprise, and then stayed wide as I realized that the man was Ian MacKaye of Minor Threat and Fugazi, and he was a benevolent intruder. This is what happens, I learned, when you get to go on tour with beloved musicians instead of zipping in and out of town solo as a touring comic with modest public radio renown.

Cast/band of the Aimee/Ted Christmas Show onstage during the finale. It's blurry. — Photo credit: Nate Johnson

We are nine performances (four NYC and five on the road) deep into the Aimee Mann and Ted Leo Christmas Show tour with five left to go. It's been so much fun. The audiences have been extremely warm and enthusiastic. Every night I get to watch Aimee and Ted and the band play some of the best songs ever written (originals in addition to the Christmas songs, and also an original Christmas song they wrote). I get to watch Paul F. Tompkins (who is also an outstanding singer) crush while doing his prepared bit and improvising within the structure of the show. Nellie McKay mesmerizes the crowds every night. Best of all, I get to make up new dumb things to say each evening to try and make my friends laugh onstage (it is also an attempt to make the audience laugh). I don't want to say too much specific stuff about the show because I imagine a few readers might be coming to the stops in Chicago, Madison, Cleveland, Detroit, or St. Paul. But it is a really special thing to get to be a part of, and I'm having a blast.

Last night I slept in bed in a room that stayed in one place, which was really pleasant and restorative after five nights of bus sleep. Honestly, I've been sleeping pretty well on the tour bus too, but the past week on the road has given me a renewed appreciation for the humble door. I've never toured on a bus before, and I quickly picked up the rules of the road (shoes off in the bunks and back lounge, no pooping, the water is good for tooth brushing but not for drinking). I also took to the slumber party energy of bus travel. I am a maniac extrovert, and I'm almost always happy to be around people until I am ready to be unconscious. It's been fun to stay up late, crammed into the little lounge, hearing stories and telling stories. Tangentially, I was flattered to nobly claim a top bunk as the member of the touring party with the youngest knees for scrambling up and down.

I saw a bunch of family when we did a show outside Boston, and it does really feel good to perform in front of loved ones in a big beautiful theater alongside artists I admire so much. I'm really lucky!!!

Maggie holding a little pug toy in her mouth. — The birthday girl, with a pug of her own.

Maggie the Pug turned five years old (nine months of which have been spent with me and Maris), and I was sad not to get to celebrate at home. Classic touring dad stuff. I've missed Maris and Maggs so much, and I'm DOUBLE lucky to get to see them in one short week!!!

Flyer for Frankenstein's Baby featuring Ilana Glazer, Emil Wakim, Shaunak Godkhindi, Asha Ward, and Joe Mande — Are you not entertained??? (Remember that?)

When I get home to Brooklyn on the 15th, I'm co-hosting a HOT Frankenstein's Baby show that's almost sold out already. Grab those tickets now if you're thinking about it!

Then, at the end of the year I'll be in Seattle (12/28) and Portland (12/30-12/31) for my own headlining shows. I'm psyched with how this new hour is shaping up, and I can't wait to share it with the good people of the Pacific Northwest. In January I'll be in San Francisco for Sketchfest, plus I've got a BUNCH of fun stuff in NYC as well. I'm feeling creatively energized! Let's see if it lasts!!!

Also, I'm not doing a gift guide despite the fact that it seems borderline mandatory for newsletter writers. I will say: Maris's new essay collection remains a wonderful gift for people who feel demoralized by the state of the world and want to feel less alone. Not to mention, my great friend (and one of my favorite writers) Alison Leiby has a book (I'm A Lot) that's available for preorder now. Preorder is almost like two gifts because you get to give the gift of telling someone you ordered them a book and also the gift of it actually arriving in the future!

Oh and! While we're here! My friend Arnie Niekamp has a limited series podcast called No Skip Christmas if you're into Christmas music this time of year!

Plus, a conversation I had with fellow late night writers Sasha Stewart, Liz Hynes, and Greg Iwiniski about late night comedy and free speech is now availble for your enjoyment/despair in podcast form.

PEP TALK FOR SOCKS

Four athletic crew socks with stripes. Various colors, nothing exciting. — The thrill of da feet.

It must not feel great to be the shorthand for a dull gift. Socks are to presents what vanilla is to flavors. It's an easy punchline, an immediately-understood offhand dismissal. A kind of organic offline meme. Like how when I was a kid, everyone knew that "liver and onions" meant gross dinner grownups foisted upon you despite no one I know ever having eaten it.

I'm going to say it though: We've been unfair to socks. (And vanilla, and possibly liver and onions, but I'm still not prepared to make that call.) After all we demand of them, socks deserve better. We wear them all winter at the very least (and I'm a no sandals/summer socks guy too...we are legion...possibly). We ask so much of our socks. Anytime a pair wears thin, I feel betrayed, no matter how many times I've worn them. In an ideal world, I'd be able to leave all of the socks I currently own to whoever gets my sneakers after I die many years from now.

I'll go further than that: Socks are a borderline ideal gift. Practical. Affordable. Easily reflective of the recipient's personality. As of today, this is a pro-sock and a pro-sock-as-gift newsletter.

What are you supposed to get for an adult cousin? A gift card to H&R Block? What should the go-to gift for a price-capped office Yankee Swap be? Eggs? Be reasonable here. Not everything can be a new Playstation or a Lexus with a big bow made of microplastics wrapped around it. Some presents are too big or too costly or too emotionally loaded for certain relationships. It can't always be a signed first edition copy of your favorite book or an original oil painting of your childhood pet. We need a reliable standby, or else last minute gift givers are going to be showing up with packs of AAA batteries or jars of organic peanut butter.

Oh, you thought the little gift bag from your parent's friend contained an Apple Watch? Grow up. It's socks. It's always been socks, and it always will be.

PEP TALK FOR A READER

I did a little formatting of this request and added a nickname.

Hi Josh. I recently moved away from my home country to Berlin to pursue my improv dreams, and I’m missing my friends and family.
- Ich Bin Ein Berloner

I am impressed, right out of the gate, by your level of commitment to improv that necessitated an international move. I've never encountered someone with such a strong allegiance to the art from that they said: "Yes, and...I'm relocating to Germany." This is a massive and thrilling decision.

Still, loneliness is so real!!! Occasionally people ask me or Maris why we don't move out of our cozy Brooklyn apartment into a bigger, more suburban home. And while I am a creature of the suburbs (Credentials: Extreme ease navigating parking lots behind strip malls for light mischief purposes, numerous lifetime attempts to walk through a fast food drive-through.) as an adult I prefer the dense community element of our city living. Maybe it's because of a preference for nearby mutual support and friendship, and maybe it's because I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts. No one can say for sure, and I'd love if they'd abstain from trying.

Fortunately, despite your geographical remoteness from your existing support network, it does still exist. Everyone who loves you loves you regardless of your location in the world. They do not feel fear that you have disappeared forever when you leave their line of sight, the way a baby reacts to their first game of peekaboo. It takes a little more effort to navigate time zones for a phone call or FaceTime (although maybe not if you moved from a country directly north or south like Denmark or Tunisia, in which case...nice work keeping it simple and cutting down on jet lag). You have not been abandoned, nor have you abandoned your loved ones, unless you did, in which case I'm going to say this is kind of on you. If you have an infant child whom you have left to pursue stardom as a member of short-form Berlin-based improv troupe Angela's Merkin...go home. Your baby needs you.

Otherwise, though, you've got a new community to burrow into as well. I'm not sure exactly the vibe of Berlin's specific scene, but in every place I've ever been, improvisors have a Pluribus-like tenacity for absorbing new members into their collective. I recently performed the monologues at the beginning of an improv show in New York, and one of the members of the team tapped my shoulder blade and told me "Got your back!" in a warm improvisor style. As a standup, I forgot to expect that kind of pre-show camaraderie, and I very nearly replied "And to you as well!" which is a thing I remembered from going to church with childhood friends once. I have to believe that despite the cultural impression that Germany gives off, you'll find people who radiate similar supportiveness based on the specific community you're opting into.

Is there a whole new world of friendship waiting for you in your new home, ready to be cultivated? Yes, and...there's a whole old world of friendship and family just a phone call or a text message away.

PICK-ME-UP SONG OF THE WEEK:
Johnny Hammond - "Wild Horses"

Look, I can't say whether you will like this song. I can say that it briefly slotted perfectly into the soundtrack of my life, and for that I am grateful. After the Aimee and Ted Christmas Show in Philadelphia, Ted brought me and Kimon to 48 Record Bar to hear the last hour of his friend Wes's DJ set. As I climbed the stairs to the bar, I heard some younger people shouting in a way that wasn't menacing but was annoying. Fortunately those people were leaving, and they brought any bad vibe in the bar outside with them.

Evelyn, the bartender, mixed up some of the best gin cocktails I've ever had, and Wes enthusiastically narrated his thought process as he chose records ("I can have a drink too because this song is seventeen minutes long!") He threw on this Rolling Stones cover, and when the saxophones came roaring in with their take on what's usually the vocal melody of the song, Wes did some impromptu and enthusiastic conducting with his hands.

Wes DJed music, Evelyn DJed drinks. I talked to a stranger in a cowboy hat for a while. Then we hustled back to the bus for our trip to Connecticut. It was all such a good time, and this song was part of it, so to me it's very good. Apparently I'm on kind of a reggae kick? Who knew?