‘It’s a good time to say goodbye’: Wonder Doug prepares to step away from comedy

In some ways, Douglas Cuckler, known to many in Columbus as the comedian Wonder Doug, is still coming to terms with events that took place in the spring and early summer of 2020. 

At the time, Cuckler served as manager for the now-shuttered Short North adult retail shop The Garden, which in those months emerged as an unlikely hub for the protests sparked by the Minneapolis police murder of George Floyd but more deeply rooted in Columbus’ own histories of racial injustice and police misconduct.

In an early December interview, Cuckler said there are times when those events feel like they took place just weeks ago, while other times they feel decades removed from current realities. “I ended up going camping weeks after everything had calmed down, and I think it started to hit me then, like, ‘Oh, that was a lot,’” he continued. “I would use whatever social media traction I had at the time to get people to bring us medical supplies, and it definitely felt like a turning point where I was using my big mouth for a good cause instead of a dirty joke that might get the same number of reactions. … It let me know that there were other ways to use my voice, and that I had a platform, and it was time to use it.”

Looking back, Cuckler can now see this realization as the initial fracture that formed in his relationship with standup comedy – a form he has pursued off and on for nearly 13 years, and which he intends to walk away from following a final show at the Funny Bone on Wednesday, Dec. 11. 

There are other factors, of course. The extended coronavirus pandemic necessitated a long break from the stage, and once things opened back up, Cuckler struggled to regain his footing. Also, Cuckler started a new job in 2020 with Star House, an organization that serves youths experiencing homelessness, and the work has led him to further rearrange his priorities, embracing to the reality he was no longer “the funny gay guy working at the adult store.”

“Things have just shifted to where I’m not that person anymore,” Cuckler said.

On an even deeper level, Cuckler said he doesn’t need the sense of release he once required of comedy. “I got a job with insurance, so I have real therapy now,” he said, and laughed. “I mean, I hate to say that comedy was my therapy, because that has become such a cliche thing, but a lot of it was me dealing with trauma. … I was the bipolar, depressed kid, where you really have to find something to laugh at or life will just eat you up. I think [comedy] became a survival technique, maybe. And now, my work is very fulfilling. I have a great relationship with my fiancé. I think other parts of my life are leveling out, and I don’t need what I got from comedy anymore.”

Cuckler described his entry into standup as accidental, his first onstage appearances occurring during impromptu employee roasts that took place in the clubs where he used to DJ the city’s goth and industrial scenes under the name Wonder Doug. Never a student of student of the form, Cuckler said he flung himself haphazardly into the pursuit and gradually uncovered a comedic voice, evolving over time from someone who leaned into shock humor “with no substance whatsoever” into the sober manager of an adult shop whose sets drew heavily upon the absurdities of his workplace. 

“Working at The Garden, it was almost not a real job, even though it was. It was a spectacle, and I had new material every day,” Cuckler said. “Now, some of my workdays are heavy, and I’m obviously never going to make fun of the kids or my job, so I don’t have the material like I used to.”

Cuckler has long exhibited a charitable side – prior to landing his current job he routinely staged comedy shows to raise money for places such as Planned Parenthood, Stonewall Columbus and Kaleidoscope Youth Center – and his work with Star House emerged as a byproduct of the frequent community calls that he answered from people seeking help.

“People were always messaging me and asking: ‘What’s a cool AA meeting I can go to that isn’t scary or God-heavy?’; ‘My kid’s friend got kicked out of school for being gay, where’s a safe place they can go?’” Cuckler said. “So, I just put on Facebook one day, ‘Is there a way I can help people as a job?’”

This post led to Cuckler being invited to tour Star House, which in turn led to a job that he now describes as “a calling,” having previously experienced homelessness as a young person and still carrying with him an acute awareness of the challenges those seeking out the organization’s help are going through.

One of the first times I interviewed Cuckler, in 2019, he similarly found himself at a crossroads. Still relatively new to sobriety and struggling with intense anxiety, he spent a portion of our conversation wondering what might exist beyond comedy but having no idea how to go about finding it. “I kind of stumbled into being a DJ, and then I stumbled into being a comedian,” he said at the time. “Maybe I’m just ready to stumble into whatever’s next.”

Five years later, he finds himself at a similar chapter break. But where everything felt uncertain the last time around, this time out Cuckler has welcome stability in both his day job and in his romantic life, and he expressed a sense of peace with his decision to step away from comedy.

“Last time I had no idea, whereas this time it feels like there are possibilities out there,” said Cuckler, who in the coming months and years plans to experiment with poetry and storytelling, in addition to pursuing the collage-making that has proven to be an artistic balm over the last year or two. “I’ve had all of this anxiety about performing, and I’m just kind of relieved to finally be done. … It’s a good time to say goodbye to it.”