No one is like him. No one could even come close.
“I was at (a restaurant) and this kid comes up to me,” says the motor-mouthed comedian with the shock-mop of red curls, prowling the stage in a black T-shirt emblazoned with “CTOP,” black-and-pink sneakers and stained, ripped jeans—with stars and stripes down the right leg—that couldn’t survive one more laundry cycle.
“He asks me if I’m a Carrot Top impersonator,” says the veggie-nicknamed real deal. “A Carrot Top impersonator? How sad would that be?”
Name someone else who pulls off a blizzard of prop-flying gags in 60 seconds—the Hooters job application with the breast cutouts (“please fill this out”), the peekaboo/icky grandma bra and grandpa shorts, the baseball bat allowing a player to simultaneously hit and perform crotch adjustments. And dozens more.
“It’s just a different art form of comedy,” says Carrot Top, aka Scott Thompson, in an offstage interview, now that he’s marking 10 years onstage in Las Vegas. “Funny is funny.”
And evolutionary. Over his Strip years, C-Top’s prop-centric style morphed into a more balanced structure in which stretches of storytelling, stand-up, music cues and video elements break up his rapid-fire rummaging through six prop-stuffed trunks. “I was always afraid to venture off into anything outside of props but Vegas helped me to achieve the confidence,” he says.
“My mom always says, ‘Why don’t you slow down?’ But back then I got my style down because I was terrified of a quiet moment. Now the quiet moments are more fun. I love when you’re listening. You want people to get to know you as a person.” Keep in mind that a slowed-down Carrot Top is akin to a jet attaining cruising altitude—still doing 500 mph.
Hold on through a comedy slalom ride: video slide (Hillary Clinton with Donald Trump hair) to a music gag (the White House doorbell playing The Jeffersons theme) to a random joke (“Mr. Clean died of ammonia”) to a complaint about people fixing him up with red-headed women (“Why, so we can eat Cheetos and not worry about the dust?”) to a video quickie (a stressed President Obama aging into Morgan Freeman, then Redd Foxx) to a jab at himself (clip of a Family Feud contestant answering “Carrot Top” to a question about annoying celebrities) to an oddball observation about NASCAR drivers (“They should carpool. They’re all going to the same damn place anyway”).
Then a couple dozen more prop bits.
“I never cared about being labeled a prop comic as long as ‘comic’ is in there,” says Carrot Top, who’ll expand his ballooning bag of comedy tricks when he adds a social media element (video-screen live tweeting while blurring out identities)—playing off his polarizing effect among comedy fans.
“I have a strong like factor and dislike factor. I look like I look, I stand out,” he says. “People say, ‘Carrot Top is gay’ or ‘Carrot Top got a facelift.’ Would I look better with a facelift? Or ‘Carrot Top does drugs.’ It’s so absurd and people say to me, ‘That hurts your feelings, right?’ Some of it does. But I’m a big fan of self-deprecating humor; that’s my whole thing.”
Exploiting Internet attackers for laughs, even at his own expense, seems like karmic justice for a man who’s grown comfortable in his unique persona. “If I walk through the mall, people yell, ‘Hey Carrot Top!’” he says. “I get so much love.”
Happy anniversary, C-Top. You’ve earned mad props.
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