In observance of Travis Cannon's debut comedy special, we asked members of The Brunch Club what makes Travis Cannon special. Here's what they said:
Asaf Gerchak: objective observer.
Travis Cannon is special because for someone whose last name is a gun, he's remarkably peaceful--I appreciate that this disrupts both tradition notions of machismo and normative determinsim, all while letting me show off that I have fancy progressive gender politics and know smart person terms like "normative determinism."
Travis Cannon gives me the opportunity to show off. This is about me. I am special.
Kelly Kay: VP Operations, Cannonballerz Fan Collective.
The one time Travis accidentally Facetimed me, I answered. I NEVER answer.
In short: Travis 4 Pres.
Tranna Wintour: contemporary.
Travis is a beacon of light in these dark times. His subscription to The New Yorker may long be expired, but he is a man of refined taste and distinction. Follow his moral compass and it will lead you to best bathhouses in the city.
Nancy Webb: Travis' long-time rival.
Travis is an electrifying performer, at once erudite and raw, perhaps best known for his catchphrase: "You better diss yourself before you piss yourself."
[NAME REDACTED]: former sponsor.
Travis has a drug problem but you would never know by how composed he is all the time!
He's not one of those users that's all in your face about their use. He's very discreet, and though we'd prefer it he wasn't using at all, we respect his discretion.
James Watts: Mr. Cannon's trusty body double.
Travis "Boom Boom" cannon (as he loves to be called) is one of the most naturally funny people I have ever met. We performed together for the first time, five years ago (my set was the stuff of legends & his was serviceable) -- ever since that night, I have been painstakingly slithering my way into his life and, as of today, I can proudly say that we are friends (against his wishes?). He's the funniest comedian I've ever known, the meanest, the worst dressed, with the best smile. (not to mention his sexual charisma). Whether it's point out how awful the poster for Goon is or how much he looks like other moderately attractive famous people, Travis is real jewel (nothing like the singer Jewel, who, unlike Travis, was homeless in L.A. once).
Iain MacNeil: well-wisher.
I first laid eyes on the human custard treat that is Travis Cannon at the old Griffintown Comedy Loft. Those were special shows, weren’t they? Back in the late noughties, every few months we’d pack ourselves in to a dark apartment on rue William and watch as a young Travis Cannon talk about his likeness to Daniel Radcliffe, something he still does to this day and will no doubt continue to do until he finally springs for the Lasik we have all been begging him to get.
But Travis Cannon’s specialness doesn’t live and die with his likeness to the boy who lived. He is a tremendously funny comedian, a RuPaul’s Drag Race savant and the best company anyone could hope to keep. Most importantly, he beat Jackson Dakin, my handsomest, tallest, nicest cousin, the pride of Comox Valley, British Columbia, for the honour of being voted high school valedictorian.
For as long as I can remember, I have been trying to beat Jackson at something. Whether it be a game of Cranium on the ferry to Port Hardy or kick the can in the woods, Jackson knew how to apply his gifts of guile and grace to be unbeatable in our quadrennial reunions growing up. Then he hit a massive growth spurt (6’7” in certain footwear) and got a degree in engineering, assuring victory in any adult competition we might have engaged in.
But Travis Cannon beat Jackson. And for that reason, he will always be my muse.