Paul Ogata, the irrepressible stand-up, steps into the comedy spotlight tonight, never short of laughing matter.

He just completed an untitled indie film with a cast of porn stars and animals (he says so); this, after copping the San Francisco International Comedy Competition (a big to-do earlier won by Dana Carvey, Marsha Warfield and Sinbad).

Ogata also has composed a radio-era "Da Night Befo' Creesmess," but because he no longer rides the local airwaves, the poem (not to be missed!) was taped on a "NightTime With Andy Bumatai" TV show; it aired last night.

Meanwhile, we tossed out Five Questions to Ogata. He even has an obscure take on how he's on a parallel plane with (gulp) Hillary Clinton.

Read on:

Q. How did you survive doing a comedy with adult film legends (can we say porn stars?) without taking off your clothes ... and what did you learn in their company?

A. I learned that porn actors are very much like comedians. We both have to stand up in front of strangers and perform on cue. And also, we'll take on any project we feel will help us cross over to the mainstream.

The wild thing about this movie is that it's sort of pornish, and sort of not. It involves animals and it involves porn stars. It's a comedy and a coming-of-age tale. Luckily, since I have no medical, I wasn't on set naked with most of the porn stars. I was with the lead actress for about an hour, and I kept my clothes on the whole time.

There's not much more I can say without breaking the non-disclosure agreement. But I will say this, I think it's either going to be the next South Park-type of irreverent no-holds-barred comedy hit, or it will be the end of my very short-lived career in the movies. I'm hoping it's not the latter.

Q. By winning the S.F. competition and the $25,000, are you richer than ever? How is the money being spent, or is it gone now that Uncle Sam nibbled his share?

A. I didn't end up winning all that much. Out of my share, Uncle Sam takes his share, my wife takes her share, my manager takes a cut, my agent takes a cut, and my wife takes some more. Then you factor in the costs of driving 6,000 miles over the span of the competition and hotel rooms every night for three weeks. With the rest, I could retire. And when I say "retire," I mean to "purchase new tires." For my Razor scooter.

Seriously, it was never about the money. Throwing my hat in the ring was about grabbing the attention of the industry, forcing them to look my way. I thought if I could just make the finals, I would be in great company and join past finalists such as Ellen DeGeneres, Dane Cook, Robin Williams. But to win the whole thing was an incredible thing. This is probably how the Warrior football team felt after beating Washington. You set goals, you work hard, you believe, and in the end it pays off. But they were probably a little sweatier than I was, and no one stole my helmet.

Q. Why was it important, in a hectic time of year, to come home and break bread with the locals? Are you going to read your "Da Night Befo' Creesmess" for your die-hard supporters?

A. I had been planning to come back for a while, even before winning in San Francisco. Unfortunately, there had been some miscommunications, errors and unforeseen complications with a series of promoters. I'd all but written it off when a last-minute opportunity came up to play at Pipeline Cafe. I always loved the club, the crowds and the staff there. The radio station I worked at had a close, longtime relationship with the club, and I'd done several shows there before. So I said yes.

I know people may already have holiday plans that evening, so if they could just cancel their plans that would be great. Plus, it gave me a great excuse to come home to see family and friends, who I otherwise wouldn't have been able to see before the end of the year.

And the timing is great, too! I leave early enough so that they probably aren't expecting any Christmas presents from me. As for "Da Night Befo' Creesmess," I wrote a new version that I'll be doing on Andy Bumatai's TV show. Check your local listings. (I've always wanted to say that.)

Q. Share a thought or two about how a short (or are you taller now?) Japanese funny guy makes people laugh, without the hometown crowd; how big a challenge is that, or is your comfort zone just being on a stage, any stage?

A. Comedians are hardly ever the tall, dark and handsome type. I'm short, pale and marginally below average looking. That probably helps in the job in both immediate visual value and, more importantly, in honing your sense of humor as a kid. Highly attractive people generally don't need to develop this mechanism. People just want to be around and talk to them, even if they are boring as a brick.

But if you're hanging out with an ugly guy and he's boring you, then you're like, "Come on, step it up, ugly guy. Entertain me!" So that's how I got to where I am today.

I love local audiences because I can use jokes that everyone will get, and I can use jokes that just local people will get. But what I've been striving to do is come up with stuff that will work everywhere. Next year, I'm already scheduled to perform in Jamaica, the Virgin Islands, Macau, Hong Kong, Atlanta and Lake Tahoe. And that means I've got to play wide.

Some Hawai'i people will somehow find me wherever it is I'm performing at, and they'll shout out requests to do some local stuff. I really want to, but I would be alienating the other 99 percent of the crowd. So it feels good to come home every now and then and let loose with the local jokes. Last month in Seattle, some people in the second row were shouting for a character I did in Hawai'i on the radio, "Do Johnny Punani!" But that's kind of like catching Jake Shimabukuro in Nebraska and shouting, "Play the theme song to 'Kikaida!' " You're going to lose the rest of the crowd. Maybe that's a bad analogy.

Q. Do you have a five-year plan in your stand-up quest? I mean, how hungry are you to be in a breakthrough film or become the heir apparent (after Conan), when Jay retires from late-night TV?

A. TV, movies, talk shows, all that stuff would be great. I know I could do all of that, if given the chance. But it would all be to feed the stand-up. Get a hit movie, and that will feed attendance at the next comedy show. Or land a hit sitcom, same thing. One feeds the other. Especially landing a job hosting a late-night talk show, that's a TV gig doing comedy on a nightly basis. How excellent is that? I'd like that very much. But first things first, I'll keep plugging away at the stand-up act, picking up movie or TV spots here and there. And I'll wait for America to be ready for an Asian-American talk-show host. It's like Hillary Clinton. America wasn't ready for a woman president just yet, so she ran for Senate. For the time being, comedy/porn is my Senate.

Reach Wayne Harada at wharada@honoluluadvertiser.com.

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