Meet Carol Leifer, a sixty-eight-year-old comedy powerhouse who has graced the screens of “S.N.L.,” “Seinfeld,” and “Curb Your Enthusiasm”—you know, the trifecta of comedy legends. This is no ordinary comic; she’s been busy fashioning a guide called “How to Write a Funny Speech… for a Wedding, Bar Mitzvah, Graduation & Every Other Event You Didn’t Want to Go to in the First Place,” in collaboration with Rick Mitchell. Perhaps her most shocking skill? Being able to dance, despite the urban myth that the “Seinfeld” character Elaine is merely a biopic of her very own two left feet—thanks Jerry!
On a recent day, Leifer—who was looking as if she had just emerged from a Netflix binge in her white hoodie and glasses—was nestled in her office amongst cue cards, a Bob Hope poster, and a shrine to the Beatles. Having just survived a Paul McCartney concert with Seinfeld at the Bowery Ballroom, it’s safe to say her life is a sitcom waiting for the next season renewal.
Her book contains some masterful, groundbreaking rules: “Don’t drink too much”—because nothing says “wedding speech” quite like slurred words and unrelated rugby stories. “Keep it classy” is another golden nugget, probably inspired by numerous cringeworthy wedding toasts. And then there’s the concise gem of “Keep it under five”—because, apparently, Lincoln knew what he was doing when he delivered his painfully short Gettysburg Address. Who knew brevity could be so intoxicating?
Leifer’s comedic wisdom doesn’t just skim the surface; she dives into the intricate world of speechlike comedy. She casually tosses around terms like “callback” and “the rule of three,” and shares life-changing advice such as “Always be ready to pivot”—akin to a dancer with rhythm migrating away from a wedding floor. “Standup is essentially a speech every night,” she coolly states. Apparently, not being able to hear the audience is mandatory, because who has time for that distraction?
Once, in 1982, she opened for the Beach Boys, who somehow managed to redefine the rules of showbiz etiquette. They tuned up mid-set, like an off-key karaoke bar, prompting a backstage intervention from Leifer: “Beach Boys, can we not?” Such is life: if you want a good wedding speech, you must first create a soothing ambiance, perhaps with a side of soothing jazz.
Leifer shares a delightful tale of helping a friend craft a wedding toast. After asking the hard-hitting questions—think “What’s wrong with your child?” rather than “What’s good about them?”—the mom’s speech became an ode to her daughter’s unusual childhood fascination with snails. When Leifer tried the same angle with A.I., the results were cringeworthy: “I tell you, she had more gastropod friends than human ones!” Why not just set the snails free in the garden and call it a day?
As she critiques fellow orators, she labels Barack Obama the “master of speech,” leaving us all wondering why he didn’t just launch a TED Talk series on the side. In contrast, President Trump apparently flunked the “inclusive speaking” 101 by telling tales suited for late-night frat parties, missing the all-important half of his audience—and that half really didn’t need to hear a crude anecdote about a drunken escapade involving grandparents. Who would have guessed?
Never one to shy away from her wedding toast resume, Leifer recounts a time she delivered a stunner with comic legends Jay Leno and Bill Maher. Despite the stiff competition, the biggest laugh came from something her non-comedian wife claimed: “You are the most loving, warmest, most beautiful, caring person… Ah, enough with Carol’s draft.” And thus, a new era of wedding comedy was born: featuring the spouse who steals the show the moment you least expect it. Ah, the joy of sharpening those comedic knives while saving money on overpriced wedding gifts.
