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The Ha-Ha-Hallelujah Comedy Movement

They decided they needed a place. Last year, they saw an ad for a retail space in Beltsville. It was close to a porn store and across the street from a strip club.

They didn't have a whole lot of money. Erik is a Web designer and Kimberly watches their two children and works part time as a surgical assistant. But God has blessed them -- the value of their College Park home had increased significantly, so they could take out that second mortgage.


Miss Clareese, aka Roxanne David, mines material for her act at her day job at a middle school cafeteria. (Marvin Joseph -- The Washington Post)

They signed the lease for Synergy last December.

After that, they ran into roadblocks. Getting the proper zoning approval ended up being a seven-month battle. Then they had to face the reality that, at 1,400 square feet, the space might be too small to have a rave.

But it's funny how God works.

By March, Synergy had still not opened its doors and was burning through the Sellins' home equity loan. One night the couple decided to check out a Christian play at Erik's old high school. Sean Sarvis happened to be the opening act. "We 'bout died laughing it was so funny," Kimberly recalls.

"There was no cursing, no degradation of women, no inappropriate racial jokes," Erik says. "It was laughing at ourselves and not laughing at others."

The meetings with Sarvis were a formality. He agreed to host a comedy show on Fridays and open mike nights on Sundays. "That's God's timing right there," Erik says.

"We just trust in Him and we're praying about it, that He will bless it," Kimberly says. "God doesn't let you get so far just to let you down."

The fluorescent lights are up inside Synergy after the first show on the venue's first night. The capacity crowd -- about 80 people -- streams out the rear door so the people lined up on the sidewalk outside can take their places.

Sawida Kamara, a 26-year-old project manager, walks out wiping laugh tears from her eyes. "It was totally hilarious," she says. "Clean, but fun."

"We'll be back," adds Erica Kennedy, a 30-year-old editor from Bowie. "We'll bring more friends."

Some of the comedians are selling tapes and CDs at the back, and Sarvis is back at the mike, cracking jokes about bootleggers. "You'll know you'll want to buy them," he says. " 'I don't need to be going over there. . . . You got Kirk Franklin?' "

Erik Sellin is standing at the DJ booth when a patron stops by on the way out. "Good first service," the man says. Then, in a flash, he joins the stream out the door.


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