After spending a few days on the island, comedian Paula Poundstone seems to have pieced together a key insight into the unconscious mind of Vashon locals.
“There’s something really funny about people living on an island, anyways,” Poundstone said. “It’s got to be somewhat inconvenient, but I imagine you all have convinced yourselves that you’re living a different life than people on the mainland.”
A year after her first visit, Poundstone is braving the ferries and psyche of the island once again, returning for her third sold-out show at Vashon Center for the Arts (VCA) on Feb. 7.
Known for her improvisation and quick wit, Poundstone has worked in comedy for more than four decades — blending her personal experiences with sharp interactions at each performance. Poundstone is a frequent and favorite panelist on the NPR show, “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me,” and hosts the weekly podcast, “Nobody Listens to Paula Poundstone.”
“Laughter gives you happy chemicals — dopamine,” Poundstone said. “I consider myself a proud member of the dopamine production industry.”
Performing on Vashon last year offered a refreshing change of pace. With her two back-to-back shows, she had the rare opportunity to spend the night on location.
In New York City, say, she could take four rights around the block and make it back to her hotel. On Vashon, she needed her shaky directional skills to navigate a stroll through the rural town.
“I guess I went in the right direction, because it was very beautiful,” Poundstone said. “I bought the largest pastry I think I’ve ever seen in my life. It was brought in on a flatbed truck, I’m pretty sure.”
She also remembers the charm of the crowd from her last sets at the VCA.
“I loved the audiences: that’s the most important thing to me, honestly.” she said. “A lot of people came over on the ferry to the show. So it wasn’t all Vashon people, but it was a lot of Vashon people.”
Poundstone says she sketches out some basic ideas for her acts, but leaves most of the show up to her improvisational whims.
“It’s a little bit like one of those arcade games where you step into a glass booth and they blow money around — whatever you can catch, you can keep,” Poundstone said. “Once the audience has some faith in you, you can kind of go wherever you want. But I can’t tell you how many times I come out and I dig a giant hole for myself to get out of … and the next thing, I’m like, ‘Ah, s—. Get out my shovel.”
She recalled, in the early days of her career, performing for three drunk onlookers at the end of an open mic in San Francisco. A couple of years later, she performed for a crowd of tens of thousands at Comedy Day in Golden Gate Park.
“It’s tough to say which is harder,” she said. “ I do work the audience a lot — so it’s really hard, with 60,000 people, to go, ‘You sir, what do you do for a living?’”
Spontaneity defines Poundstone’s work. She’ll poke fun at herself, discuss what’s on the news or share whatever pops into her head at the moment. What the audience often connects with most, Poundstone notes, is autobiographical — oftentimes about parenting and pets.
“I’m fairly well informed about me,” Poundstone said. “A lot of my experiences are not particularly unique. When I tell a story, and people laugh, they’re laughing because they recognize what I’m talking about in themselves.”
Offstage, Poundstone admits that her spontaneity and tendency for tangents makes her somewhat of an “acquired taste” in social settings. The comedic gene is not a switch that she can flip — it’s stuck permanently in the “on” position.
“I say to myself, before I go to any social situation, ‘You know what? I’m just gonna listen, not gonna say stuff. I can interject here and there, but that’s it.’ And then, you know, I don’t,” she said.
Poundstone spends plenty of time — onstage and off — talking about politics. She volunteered for Kamala Harris’ presidential campaign, hosting talks and posting promotional videos. She fears for the state of the country under President Donald Trump’s second term, particularly when it comes to the climate.
“I’m not an expert, but I can read and hear,” Poundstone said. “Climate scientists from around the world have been saying the window of opportunity to not prevent but modify the effects of climate change is closing. They’ve been shouting it from the rooftops for years.”
She doesn’t shy away from confronting the realities of our time. Between the perilous climate, political pardons and Project 2025, she is far from optimistic about the state of the nation.
“It’s going to be a dark time, a dark time where I believe comedy will … . Well, it’s not gonna save us, but it’ll be at least a board that you could float on outside the Titanic,” Poundstone said.
Poundstone’s analogy may be grim, but it underscores the value of humor as a tool for resilience and perspective. Poundstone believes in what she does — that laughter is not the only side effect of comedy.
“One of the functions of humor … it’s an important part of social commentary and sanity. I could certainly use some more sanity. Couldn’t we all?”
Tickets for Poundstone’s show are sold out, but those fortunate enough to attend are in for a night of laughs. To join the wait list for tickets, call VCA’s box office at 206-259-3007.
Mari Kanagy is a contributing journalist to The Beachcomber.