Comedy Central Stand-up Special performed at The Wilshire Ebell Theater, in Los Angeles, July 2015
[“Pepper” by Butthole Surfers] –
Some will die in hot pursuit
In fiery auto crashes
Some will die in hot pursuit
While sifting through my ashes
Some will fall in love with life
And drink it from a fountain
That is pouring like an avalanche
Coming down the mountain [cheers and applause]
I don’t mind the sun sometimes
The images it shows
I can taste you on my lips
And smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary
And softly spoken lies
You never know just how you look
Through other people’s eyes
– Wow. [cheers and applause] Thank you. Ugh, believe it or not, that gets old. It is great to be here in America. Oh, yeah. The greatest country in the world… if you haven’t traveled a lot. Do we have to constantly scream we’re number one? It’s always the people that live in the most boring parts of this country that scream the loudest. People in Kansas, “We’re the greatest country in the world.” It’s like, do you guys have Internet there? You ever seen a photo of Fiji? I’ve never been to Fiji, but I’ve seen photos. It looks pretty amazing. It’s hard to think we’re better than that. We’re top ten. Maybe if we started screaming that every day, maybe terrorists would stop trying to saw our heads off. “We’re top ten.” And they’d be like, “That’s fair.” “It was that number one stuff that was getting old.” America’s basically turned into one of these factories where we just have a sign up like, “It’s been 22 days since our last horrible thing.” Then it’s like, “Oop, all right, rip it down. We’re back at zero again.”
These things just keep happening, you know, whether it’s Ferguson or Baltimore. I can solve racist cops. That’s an easy fix. But nobody comes to me for the answers. You want to get rid of that forever? How about this? Only black people should be allowed to be cops. Boom, problem solved. And if any of you have issue with this, it’s because you’re racist. “Well, what about white people?” White people can be firefighters. We’re more outdoorsy. It makes sense. White people, firefighters. Black people, cops. Who wants tickets to the softball game now? Yeah, it’s gonna get pretty tense. Might want to put in a mercy rule.
And the next time we have one of these tragedies– inevitably, we will– and you happen to be so unfortunate enough to know the person that’s being accused of the crime, do us all a favor and don’t get on TV the next day and be like, “I lived next to him for 32 years. I never could have seen this coming.” Maybe you should be locked up for six months. I find nothing more disrespectful. You never could have seen it coming? I’ve never met anyone in my entire life that I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that they are capable of awful things. Literally no one. My mom could blow up a nursery. And if you put me on TV the next day and I was completely honest with myself, I’d be like, “I can fucking see it. “No, it makes sense. “Sometimes when I was a kid, I’d come home from school; “she wasn’t happy to see me. I think she hates children.” Ladies, know that every man you’re sitting next to tonight, if you could get into their head and see every thought they have ever had, you would immediately pull out a gun and blow your head off. Because trust me, they are capable of anything. All day long, every day, nothing but twisted, weird, awful shit is just going round and round and round. And what do you do at night? You snuggle up next to him because you’re so happy that you’re not alone. And I think that says more about you. That notion that your parents raised you on, “Stand by your man”? If you’re insane. The second your man gets accused of anything, you immediately distance yourself. Just be like, “Eh, I don’t know what the fuck he’s into.” Buy clothes in the next town. We’ll forgive you.
By the way, I do love this country. We’re the only place with any diversity. The entire planet’s segregated. You realize that when you watch international sports. Like, I was trying to watch the World Cup, uh, despite hating it. I get it; soccer’s the most popular sport on the planet. That’s because half the world can’t afford AC. And that’s about how long you have to run just to get tired enough to fall asleep in these godforsaken countries. You ever try to gamble on soccer? “What’s the over/under, 0.5? Mm. How much time’s left?” “It’s a secret.” I’m out.” But we have diversity. Other teams don’t. Or if you look at the Olympics, you look at our, uh, U.S. Gymnastics squad, we have an Asian girl, a white girl, a black girl. Look at the Chinese squad. Any guesses? Did you guess exclusively Chinese bitches? Yeah, that’s all that’s ever been on that team. That’s all that will ever be on that team. Then they wonder why they’re not getting golds anymore. Well, you better get a Harlem in China.
You think snapping together iPads all day is tough? It is. Not as tough as it used to be. Now they have suicide nets around their building so they can jump out, bounce right back. “Sorry, boss, just needed some fresh air. “Back to making Americans more stuff? You got it.” This is a tough joke to do as a white comedian, but here goes. Because where this country is now, from where we came from is pretty remarkable. There’s nothing more shameful in our country’s past than slavery. Okay, it’s horrible. But I’ve grown up in a generation where I’ve idolized black people my entire life. They are better at everything. So the fact that we pulled off slavery– I’ve already said it’s awful. That’s off the table. I’m just saying it’s kind of neat. I mean, at any point, they could have been like, “You know we can just run away, right? “And you will never catch us. And if you do, we will beat the living shit out of you.” All right, that’s about how well that joke should go over. There’s a fine line between appreciating the sarcasm and, “Ooh, this feels like a rally.” And you did well. That’s a joke I do not do everywhere. That’s a joke if the audience gets a little too excited, I shut it down. You start hearing a couple “yee-haws,” trouble’s a-brewing. As soon as “yee-haw” hits a certain octave, hate crime in T minus ten, nine…
The unemployment rate in our country’s around 6.5%. I’m told that’s pretty good. I could care less. I wish a president would have the balls to say what I’m about to. 10% of Americans don’t deserve jobs. Good night. Like, that’s a number I can get my head around. Of course, there’s exceptions to that. That’s not who we’re talking about. But if you don’t think 10% of Americans are lazy pieces of shit, then you have never traveled anywhere. Because the number that blows me away is that over 90% of Americans have jobs. Who the fuck is hiring you morons? Because I wouldn’t. The sense of entitlement? Everyone thinks they deserve more than they have. No one’s content. Young kids–I won’t even talk to them anymore because you parents have done such a bang-up job. If I meet one more kid and ask him what he wants to do when he gets older and he replies, “I want to be famous like you,” I’m gonna kick him in his teeth. You’re never gonna be famous. Never. You have no chance. I didn’t get here because I work hard. I have a gift from God. “Everybody gets their 15 minutes of fame, buddy.” Excuse me? That’s an average. Yeah, that’s zero for you, you, you, you. Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, 20 years, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. Everybody gets 15 minutes? You know Andy Warhol was on drugs when he said that, right? He didn’t think he’d be quoted for the rest of eternity, let alone taken seriously as an artist. You ever go into, like, a cute local café and an artist has their work for sale on the walls? Has anybody ever not walked up, looked at the price, and gone, “Who the fuck do they think they are?” Just once, I’d like to walk into somebody’s home and be like, “Wow, that is a beautiful piece. Where did you get it?” And they’re like, “Oh, funny story. “I was getting a spinach wrap the other day for lunch, “and I had $750 burning a hole in my pocket, “and I was like, ‘Hey, guys, unbolt this from your urinal and get it into my living room.'”
You know what the unemployment rate in China is? Neither do I because I’m American. I’m fucking stupid. It’s got to be low, right? Those people get up at 3:00 in the morning to practice the violin for 4 1/2 hours, then they work on math for 12 hours, and whatever’s left, they’re ninjas. If you think for one second, we will ever catch up with them, you are out of your mind. Just sit at home and be patient until they take over. Quite frankly, they deserve our country. Like, “Oh, shit, China’s here. Do we take off our shoes? How does this work?” Would you like me to fix all the environmental problems on the planet? I can do it. The solution’s simple. You won’t help. That’s the real problem. Stop having kids. [cheers and applause] You hear that? That’s not enough support. That’s why we have to contaminate the water. Because most of you are not on board yet. But that’s all that has to happen. Just stop having kids. And I’m not one of these people that cares about the planet. I hope it blows up the day after we’re gone. But stop having kids, and then we can have the greatest party for the next 60 to 70 years just pissing through all the natural resources. It would be amazing. But what happens? Some of you, you get fed up. You’re like, “Uh, I hate my life. You try.” [sputtering] [laughs] “Look, it looks like me.” Selfish. That’s what I think of your families… selfish. China has the right idea. They’re the smartest people on the planet. If they think boys are more important and two should be the cap, good enough for me. We have a TV show in our country called “19 and Counting.” That show should be called “Wrecked Pussy.” Shocking that one of those kids turned out to be a bad egg. You mean you can’t keep your eye on 19 children? You can’t be a good parent to three kids. Do you know how I know that? Because my parents had four. What are you gonna do when one of them asks, “Who do you love more?” “I love you all the same.” “Oh, really, a 19-way tie? Fuck you, Mom.” And you deserve that kind of language. You can’t sell a 19-way tie to anyone. You’re gonna have to be honest with those kids. Like, “All right, let’s see. “One of you’s a predator, so you’re out. “Not even sure these three are mine anymore. “No idea why the ginger’s staring at me. “You have no shot. “What, you think I enjoy dunking you in a tub of sunblock “just to bring you outside, you mutant? “What is your X-Men power besides killing every boner in every room you walk into?” I tease, redheads. You’re just as pretty as prettier people. The reason so many people in this country keep having litters of children are all these fertility drugs. You’re not gonna like this joke, heads up. Know that if you have to take a ton of fertility drugs to get pregnant, that is God just saying you’d be an awful parent. Yeah, maybe if you weren’t such a cunt in your 30s, you’d be a mother in your 40s. Let’s be clear. I don’t want to do that joke. I have to do that joke because statistically that will ruin at least two people’s night this evening, and for some horrible reason which I can’t explain, that brings me joy to know that there’s a lady here right now just going, “Fuck him. I deserve a family too.” No, you don’t. You don’t. It’s called the American dream for a reason. It’s unrealistic. It’s not gonna happen for everyone. You want a kid so bad, adopt one, you selfish wench. We’re only halfway through this joke. Hang in there. You ever seen an orphanage? I ask this from time to time because I know the answer. Most people haven’t. It’s a real problem in this country. There’s kids that need homes, yet where they’re located is a goddamn mystery. You’d think that’d be a crucial part of the orphanage’s business plan… being very accessible. Like, “Hey, hey, we’re over here.” Nobody’s ever given me directions to their place, been like, “You go to the orphanage. “You take a right. My house is right there. You can’t miss it.” Maybe this is a better way. You ever go to a grocery store on a Saturday and out front, they have a pen set up for rescue dogs? I’m not imp– I’m not implying putting the orphans in. I’m just pointing out that that’s also a real problem. They were smart enough to realize, bring the problem to us, shove it in our face, makes the problem go away. Now set up a nicer pen. Put it in the shade. If you can afford Whole Foods, you can afford another child. And if you can’t, at least put some hand sanitizer on and sit in there and play for a couple minutes. That’s the very least you could do.
You ever watch your morning local news where once a week, somebody from the animal shelter will bring a dog on? Do you know why they do it? Huh? Because it works. Because bringing that dog on TV makes somebody at home go, “You know what? I could take that dog,” and you saved his life. Why aren’t we doing that with orphans? I don’t understand. Honestly, like–like, “This is Carlita. “She’s only five. You can change her name. “She doesn’t give a shit. “Come on, Carlita. Can you dance, Carlita?” And she’s like… She just wants a home for Christmas.
Life is about perspective. I see a handicap person, I don’t feel sorry for them. I’m like, “Hey, it’s like being employee of the month for the rest of your life.” That’s half full. “Pretty sweet parking spot. How’d you get it?” He’s like, “Bullet in the spine.” I’m like, “Worth it. Low five, roll it in.” You don’t go high five unless you have a hill and a ramp. Then get a camera. That’s got to be pretty exciting to watch. You can laugh at this joke. Handicap people like it. And if they don’t like it, turn their chair around. I don’t give a shit. Stare at you, depressing us.
You don’t hear a lot about the charity work I do, and it’s because I don’t do any. You know what’s better than tax write-offs? Keeping your money. That’s just a fun joke to tell rich people. It’s not true. I work with Make-A-Wish all the time. That’s an incredible experience, uh, for me, not the kids that are dying. Yeah, they chose to hang out with me. They knew what kind of jokes I told. They were okay with it. I don’t pander onstage, and I certainly don’t pander offstage. And I’m telling you honestly, these dying kids have the best sense of humor on this planet. Their parents, not so much, but I don’t care. As soon as I meet them, I start giving it to them. Like, “Are you sure you’re dying? You know this is my weekend, right?” And they’re like, “I’m dying.” I’m like, “All right, let’s go. Don’t cough on me, motherfucker.” They want to be teased like anybody else. They can handle it. Trust me, they’ve handled a lot worse. This kid I was hanging out with last year a bunch was 17. I’m like, “This is awesome that you’re dying now. You got this in right under the wire.” If you don’t know, the organization is 18 and under. So if you’re dying of cancer at 19, they’re like… [blows raspberry] “Hope your dreams are cheap.” If you’re laughing right now, it’s because you’re a good person and you realize how absurd that statement is, to think that they draw a hard line, but it’s funny to think they might be holding their doors shut. “You can’t get in, kid. You’re too old.” And they don’t even have to hold tight because they kids are so weak because the disease is winning. Don’t feel bad for this kid. The first thing he said when he met me was– he told me I was his third choice. And to this day, I don’t know if he was fucking kidding or not. That’s not cool. I’m healthy. I’m gonna live a long time. I don’t need that noodling around up there. And if it makes you feel any better laughing at these jokes, know that he is cured and healthy now. He’s not. He’s dead. But if some people need that, let them have it, right? “Oh, he’s okay? Oh, good.” [laughing]
“You know me. I can’t accept life.” That’s a perfect gauge for if we would ever hang out in a social setting. Know that if you’ve ever said any form of this statement, we would not. “Uh, there’s nothing funny about blank.” Any form of that, know that I hate you to your core. Because I, along with some of you, respectfully disagree. You can accept that things are tragic and awful and still have a sense of humor about them. It doesn’t make you a bad person, despite what some blog may say. “Oh, there’s nothing funny about AIDS. There’s nothing funny about rape.” Uh, yes there is if you write a good joke. There’s funny things about it. And some of you may be aware I took a ton of bad press for making that statement verbatim. And then a women screamed at me, “There is nothing funny about rape.” And I’ve never defended myself publicly, despite misquotes. Mainly because I’m rich. I’m like, “Fuck it. “I make my living saying shocking things. There’s consequences. I can accept that.” And people wrote me horrible stuff. Like, “Hope your daughter gets raped one day, and we’ll see how funny you think it is.” Well, first of all, she’d have to survive the abortion. [laughter and applause] [groans] Talk about two strikes against a kid, huh? Yeah, I appreciate your well wishes, kind soul. It’s a joke, and it’s my choice to have it. Yeah, this is where the feminists are usually torn, because we’re on the same side on most issues. Abortion? Over here, you have a lifetime of stress and inevitable disappointment. And over here, you have freedom. Well, how much does freedom cost? A couple nights’ sleep and around $750. Seems extremely reasonable. If nobody is looking, I will take freedom. “But they have fingernails at 14 days.” Yeah, and I clip them. I’m pretty sure Dyson makes an attachment. Guys, it’s a great product that never loses suction due to the engineering. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m sponsored by Dyson. I get a couple thousand bucks for the plug. They’re like, “Is there any place in your act where you could fit in our product?” I’m like, “I’ve got the perfect home for it. Quick question, what’s your company’s stance on fetuses?” “We fucking hate them.” “All right, let’s move some units.” I don’t know what show you thought you bought tickets to, but I assure you this one’s not getting softer. All right. [cheers and applause]
“There’s nothing funny about cancer.” All right, if you haven’t been affected in some way or another by cancer at this point of your life, uh, and haven’t developed a sense of humor about it, you’re the crazy person. I saw a campaign in Phoenix where it says, “The first thing you should do “if you find out you have cancer is get a second opinion.” Oh, really? The first thing? I was gonna cry for a bit, but all right. Let’s make another doctor’s appointment with somebody that probably can’t see me for a few weeks. That has to be a fun time. Just sitting around your house praying to God your first doctor’s an incompetent pile of shit. Then you finally see him, and he’s like, “Yeah, yeah, she was spot-on. “You should have been getting this treated. You have cancer.” What if he says you don’t have cancer? What is it, two out of three? When can I get some sympathy strange? That’s what I’m looking for. [cheers and applause]
“There’s nothing funny about child molestation.” All right, then don’t hang out with me. Yeah, because if you tell me a funny joke about a priest diddling a boy, I’m not gonna be like, “What is wrong with you? Don’t you know how serious that issue is?” I’m gonna laugh because I’m not 11 or Catholic. I don’t give a fuck. I can separate between reality and jokes.
Who in here at one point in their life hasn’t laughed at a Michael Jackson pedophile joke? Let’s see if you laugh at this one. Did you know, last year, dead Michael Jackson made $180 million thanks to his new show in Vegas? Which is amazing if you get a chance to see it. There’s a hologram of Michael. It sings and dances the hits. And for an extra $500 a pop, you can go backstage and watch him try to ghost-fuck your kid. Uh, you’re laughing at pedophilia. Look at that. Oh, and you can’t even be offended by the joke because ghost-fucking’s not real. But I’m sure there’s one dingbat in here, “Yes, it is. “I had a friend that was molested by a spirit. #GhostFuckingIsReal.”
I’ll laugh at the real thing from time to time. How about when Sandusky was asked point-blank on national television if he’s sexually attracted to boys and he waited around 16 seconds to apply, and I quote, “Eh”? If you don’t think I was at home pissing myself… Like, “Oh, did he just waffle on that softball question?” “Eh.” Ask me if I’m sexually attracted to kids. I’m not. That’s how long you should wait to answer that question. You don’t mull it over for a bit. You certainly don’t eyeball your lawyer. “I wonder how he wants me to answer this one.” You come out swinging in a hurry, or you deserve to burn in hell. He said the only thing he’s ever been guilty of is, he liked to put his hand on boys’ legs. I’ve heard enough. On that alone, you should be in jail forever. You want to hug your son longer than three seconds, you should be in jail forever.
Yeah, my dad didn’t hug me very much. He wasn’t the best father, but he didn’t fuck children, and I’ll take it. [cheers and applause] I don’t believe he has. That’s my biggest fear in life, that I do that joke and people are cheering and there’s one guy in here, “He fucked me.” And I’m like… I am sorry. I am 99.8% positive he hasn’t. He hasn’t heard this joke yet. And my gut instinct is, he’s not gonna like it. But if he gets too upset, I’ll be like, “What are you hiding?”
How many minutes of “Hoarders” can you watch before you have to start cleaning your place? Ugh. Who are these people? I can’t watch it. I’m a minimalist. I still want to be on the show, a “Hoarders” episode, as a minimalist, where the entire episode is me struggling with the one knickknack that’s on my mantel. And they’re like, “You got to get rid of it.” And I’m like, “I can’t.” With this many people in here, guaranteed one of you is a hoarder. And I’m not looking to out you, and I don’t want your friends to either. But this is what needs to happen. Tomorrow morning, okay, wake up early. That’s gonna be new for you because you’re a piece of shit. That’s fair, right? You think hoarders get up early? Uh, they do not. They sleep in. They wait till the thrift store’s open, and they pray there’s new bric-a-brac on the shelves. Get up early. Head on down to The Home Depot. You’re gonna go to the equipment rental center. Okay? Get yourself a wood chipper. It’s gonna run you around $175 for a half day. On your way out, grab a couple day laborers. When you get home, gas it up. Have them throw you into it. Because you’re a disgusting person and no one likes you. And by the lack of people laughing right now, my guess is, there’s more than one hoarder in here. “But I love cats.” We know; that’s why we want you in the chipper. Nobody can breathe in your place.
I love the show “House Hunters.” I don’t know why we can’t gamble on that. Make it legal, Vegas. How much fun would that be? Like, all right, here we go. He’s the breadwinner. She’s a bitch. Put it all on two. God damn it, they went craftsman? I want to be a realtor on that show just to set people straight. When they’re like, “Okay, my must-haves “are ocean views. My budget is $250,000.” You better learn Spanish. Because you’re not gonna see the water on our soil. You’re gonna stare at the freeway from your comfy condo.
They cancelled the TV show “Intervention” this year after ten years. That’s amazing. That show was on for ten years, and every episode was a success. Not at curing someone of drugs or alcohol– that never works– but tricking a druggie into being on television, which is all they really cared about anyway. “You’re on ‘Intervention.” “What? Oh. Man, I thought you guys were shooting a movie about me.” Is there no word of mouth in the junkie community? No one’s shooting a movie about your crappy life. Sit down; we’re gonna listen to your illiterate parents stumble through a letter they wrote in crayon. “Jon…” J-O-N, the dumbest of all Johns. “Jon, hey, it’s me, Dad. “Real sad seeing you not good. “You used to be good. Now you’re not good, and that’s bad.” Quite the tearjerker this week. “You were a straight-A student. What happened?” Everyone was a straight-A student. Was I the only C student in this country? Fair enough. Just know that if you’re a straight-A student, one day, you’re gonna suck cock for heroin. How’s that feel, nerds? Maybe get outside and play a little more, a little less cocksucking in your future. And not even the fun kind, the “I need heroin” kind, which is way more panic-stricken and aggressive. I’m guessing.
I saw a sign outside of a storage unit complex, said first month’s rent, $1. I know a good deal when I see one. I’m guessing that’s a cash transaction. “Here’s my dollar.” I’ve never had a storage unit. I’m gonna put tons of fake treasure in it. Wall-to-wall fake treasure, like, a chest, coins everywhere. Maybe get a skeleton, put that in the corner. Then month two’s gonna roll around. Guess who’s going delinquent on their unit? Yeah, just come up with another email address. I’m going home, waiting for this episode of “Storage Wars.” Time to watch some hill people overbid. They pop open that unit; they’re like, “Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, we hit the jackpot on this one.” Standing there with their flashlight. “I think a ghost is guarding the good stuff in the back. No, I’m definitely interested.” Anytime your livelihood depends on you uttering the phrase “I got a good hunch about this,” know that you’ve made a lot of bad decisions.
Don’t put stickers on your car. Despite what you think they say, know they read, “I’m poor.” No one cares who you cheer for or what you believe in. Just drive a little faster. And God forbid if you lost a loved one and you think the best way to memorialize him is by turning your Honda Civic into a moving tribute. Don’t. Because the only thing that makes me want to do is T-bone you so you and Junebug can finally be together again. Like my morning commute isn’t depressing enough? Now I’m stuck behind you and your word problem, trying to figure out how old this shithead was in the first place. There’s not enough information. I got to pull up next to you. “Was he a Gemini by chance? “15, too soon. Speed it up. Some of us aren’t dead.”
Don’t text and drive. It’s the law. Yeah, way to fast-track the big issues in this country. Do you know what you are allowed to do? Write a letter longhand while driving. Completely legal. I would argue just as dangerous, if not more. Do I have to be a martyr for this issue? I’ll do it. Get on the freeway, like, “Dear Grandma, It’s been a while.” “Winter is coming.” Kill a couple dozen people, like, “Oh, no. We should make writing letters illegal too.” Can’t we use common sense? No, we have to spend millions of taxpayer dollars passing laws. Have you seen the campaign to stop texting and driving where they show you real final texts? “Be right…” They’re like, “Was it worth it?” I don’t know. Were you trying to get laid at 3:00 in the morning? I’m not gonna judge you. Maybe it was. Maybe you finally had sex with that one person you’ve been chasing your entire life and you can’t wait to text your buddy. “You’re never gonna believe who I…” and then boom. Congratulations. You went out on top. Yeah, I promise you life wasn’t gonna get better after that moment. Best-case scenario, six months from now, you’re sending her texts. “Yeah, Thai food’s fine. Whatever.” You can’t text and drive, but you can have a three-course Taco Bell meal in your lap at 2:00 in the morning? Everyone knows you’re drunk as shit. You ought to be arrested as soon as you place the order. [cheers and applause] “I’m sorry. “We’re gonna need you to step out of the car. “There’s no such thing as a gordita “wrapped inside a gordita wrapped inside yet another gordita.” “There will be.”
Why do people make a big deal about last meals in prison? “What do you want for your last meal?” “Uh, I don’t know. I kind of lost my appetite. Don’t know if you heard, gonna be murdered tomorrow.” “Well, you have to eat something.” “Make it a burrito. “You’re gonna clean some shit up. “Yeah, now neither one of us are looking forward to tomorrow.”
I was watching one of those “locked up” shows. I saw a guy that was shanked 682 times. Now, let’s all agree that that’s a lot. Do you have any idea how long it would take to stab somebody 682 times? I did the math. Don’t rack your brain. At two stabs per second, which I believe is a doable rate… That’s still 5 minutes 45 seconds-ish of stabbing someone. That’s not even factoring in getting tired, having to switch to your nondominant hand, like… Here’s the crazy part. He lived. Yeah, there’s your upside for obesity, America. Why don’t you get back in line, hit that buffet one more time on the off chance you get stabbed 682 times? Like… [huffing] “Walk it off.”
Off topic, if you’ve ever bragged about doing a half marathon, you can shut the fuck up forever. [cheers and applause] When did that even become a thing? A half marathon? Ooh. I just finished reading half a book. Yeah, big, thick one. Got to the middle, set it down. I’ll never look at it again. I can bench press around 450 pounds one half time. Just the down part. The point is, until you’ve shit yourself and your nipples are bleeding at mile 26, you’ve accomplished nothing and no one wants to hear about it. [cheers and applause]
Mexicans? You know who you are. You are not supposed to be here. I love Mexicans. I love Mexican food, but next time I’m in your restaurant, please don’t come up to my table and ask if I would like to start with the house-made guacamole. You know good goddamn well I want that guacamole. Let’s just bring it out. I make that kind of money now. What’s upsetting to me is when my entrée comes with a free side of guacamole staring me in the face, teaching me a costly lesson in patience. That’s too much guacamole. What kind of Ponzi scheme are you Mexicans up to? This joke is stupid. I don’t care. What happened in the last ten years in this country where we’ve become so obsessed with guacamole? “Is there gonna be guacamole there?” “Honey, get dressed. It’s avocado season.” This joke doesn’t work in Canada because they’ve never heard of Mexicans.
Canada has the greatest fence ever built… America. It is foolproof if you can afford it. Really easy to be the cool, open-minded, hippie country when there’s a Kevlar Snuggie of America draped around your fat, frozen asses, daring the world to talk shit. “We don’t use our military.” Uh, we know. We got you taken care of. Go back to bed. We’ll wake you when the NHL play-offs start. [cheers and applause]
By the way, has enough time passed in this country that we can openly and honestly talk about the great things Osama bin Laden did for us? And don’t act like he didn’t do anything good. How about the fact that we immediately know September is nine? That’s not nothing. That’s not noth– Do you remember what we used to do? January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August… nine. Honey, it’s nine. I use it for August. 9/11 minus one… eight. How about the fact that every time you take your wife or your girlfriend to the airport, you no longer have to walk her all the way to the gate? Yeah, maybe next time you do a drop-off, you give him a quick, “Thanks, Osama.” “Hope you’re enjoying that good young tight stuff they hand out up there.” Are we okay with mocking his beliefs? I did that joke in Utah, and they laughed like that’s the crazy religion. “Those stupid Muslims. They only have one heaven.” I believe Mormons have three. I’ve never read their plates. Some of you are too young to remember pre-9/11 airport drop-offs, but they were the worst. Your girlfriend’s like, “Can you give me a ride to the airport?” And you’re like, “Yeah, I’d love to. “Because there’s never been a service invented “that would take you to the airport. What time’s your flight?” “4:15 a.m.” “Perfect. “No, I was gonna get up at 2:00 anyway, “so that works out. “No, you know me; 2:00 rolls around, and my body’s like ‘Start your day; it’s 2:00.'” Then you’re driving to the airport; she’s like, “You gonna come inside?” “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? “Parking there’s so convenient. “Besides, I like to start every day with a two-mile “stress-filled sprint walk. “Oh, your flight’s delayed an hour and a half? “Perfect, I’ll get a Cinnabon, get diabetes before you take off.” Do you remember? Some guys wouldn’t even leave after they boarded. They would just stand at a window waving at a machine backing up because they were so happy to finally be alone. Now what do you get to do thanks to Osama? Barely slow down and kick them to the curb. Yeah, I don’t know about you, but I say that’s worth a tower. [audience groans] Not two–not two. Not two. Whoa. That was close. No, no, no, rightfully so. “I fucking thought he meant both of them. “He didn’t. He only meant one. He cleared it up.” “Which one?” “Does it matter?” “To my uncle.” There you go; now everyone’s offended.
If I can take a– a quick moment to be sincere, and then I’ll go back to being an asshole, know that I appreciate this, uh, that this isn’t lost on me. I didn’t have dreams of grandeur getting into comedy. Uh, it’s overwhelming. Uh, thank you for coming out. I know that eventually this will come to a crashing halt. I’m not gonna stop saying awful things. Eventually I’ll say the one thing where it’s like, “Oop, there goes his career. Wow, he thought he could say that, huh?” I actually wrote a career suicide note. Would you like to hear it? Dear Jews… That’s all I’ve got so far. This–right? Right now, people are like, “Oh, fuck, he’s doing it. Here we go. God.” Start out strong. Burn some bridges. No. I don’t meet fans after the shows mainly because I don’t want to. For good reason. I have a very large social media presence to pat myself on the back about things that don’t matter. On average, I receive around 1,200 death threats a week. Yeah, no, it’s fun standing up here. Sorry I don’t want to shake hands with the guy that wrote, “Die, fag, die. #YoureAFag.” “I’m a fan, I was kidding.” I apologize sincerely about ticket prices, but you have to understand, I can’t risk performing in front of the type of people that can afford $10. [cheers and applause] And as hard as that joke is for some of you to swallow, there’s other people in here that are like, “I actually appreciate him saying that “because I was like, ‘This is way too much money,’ “but now that I think about it, yeah, I wouldn’t stand in front of those monsters either.” You can get lucky and find a ten. Like, “Oh, I’m gonna murder someone.” [laughs softly]
People accuse me of everything online. Misogynistic, I get that. No, I’m just a male comic with dumb jokes. If I was a female comic, the jokes would be completely opposite and empowering, and the crowds would be a lot smaller. Yeah, ’cause you don’t support your own, ladies. That’s on you. Racist– I don’t like hearing that. I never, never use the N word… into a microphone… anymore. I’m so aware of social issues. Even when I’m home alone doing laundry, I won’t use the word “colors.” Yeah, I do a load of whites and a load of darkies, and that’s it. That’s it. Because I want to be on the right side of history.
My parents live in the same house. Just to point out what kind of maniacs some of you are. Every day of my parents’ life, somebody will ring the doorbell and just be standing at the door and just, like, staring at my mom. And my mom will be like, “Yeah, I’m his mother.” And they’ll be like, “Is he gay?” And then they run away. I’m not gay. I have a– I have a girlfriend, not by choice. I blame Hollywood for ruining every relationship that I’ve ever been in. What you don’t realize is how negatively they affect your relationships. Everyone’s aware of the liberal media bias in the news, but what about the way they portray couples in every sitcom, where there’s a dumb husband chasing his wife around the whole episode like, “I want to have sex,” and she’s never in the mood? They just hammer that stereotype home that men always want to have sex and women never do. Let’s get this out of the way right now. Women want to have sex way more often than men. [cheers and applause] I assure you, ladies, this is not the perspective you’re going to enjoy. I don’t know if you’re new to my comedy or not. I have a very gender-specific slant that I ride pretty hard. Because the reality is, whether you want to admit it or not, no man’s ever loved you more or been more physically attracted to you than he was the first time he had sex with you. And from that moment, it goes down. Okay, now, don’t look at him right now and make the evening uncomfortable. “Is that true?” And then he has to be like… “No. I’m pretty sure he’s queer. I don’t care what he says.” It’s true 100% of the time. How fast it dives is case by case. It doesn’t have to fall off a cliff immediately. We’ve all been there when it does. Can you be happily married for 50 years? Of course you can, but know that for him, every time you have sex, it’s going down a notch. Men die ten years earlier because we fucking want to. Don’t make him feel inadequate. Don’t challenge his drive. “I’m with the only guy in the world that doesn’t want to have sex all the time.” Uh, no, you’re not. When I’m in a relationship, I can go two to three weeks without thinking about sex. When I’m single, I need to masturbate twice a day before I step outside, or I will sexually assault someone. I assure you his drive is fine. It’s the product that’s sour. Is that too harsh? Your snatch has spoiled. Is that softer? And I know what your response should be. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t be in a relationship if that’s how you feel.” But that’s not how I’m wired. I like to be in a relationship at first. And I won’t cheat on you, and I won’t break up. So every time I fall in love, I’m like, “Fuck, here goes three years.” I don’t even understand how real dating sites exist. Whenever I’m in a relationship, my dream scenario is that I come home from work, open the door, and catch her blowing someone. That’s not a big laugh. But notice, there are people laughing. Do you know why? Because for the first time in a long time, there’s guys in here going, “I’m not alone.” That they can understand that twisted logic. They just come home, open the door, and there she is just… [guttural humming] “You’re home early.” And you’re like, “Oh, shit. You can’t do that. I’m out of here.” Yeah, no, we don’t even talk anymore. I’m just magically happy again. Do I get that? Nope. Every time I open the door, there she is, “Hi, I’m not blowing anybody. Where should we go for dinner?” Gun range? [laughs] I’m teasing. I’m teasing.
I’ve never drugged a woman. I feel it’s good if you’re a comic and can say that truthfully. Okay– sure, if my girlfriend asks for Tylenol, I’ll grab Tylenol PM, but that’s only because I want to watch TV by myself. I don’t think I’ll go to jail for that. If you’ve ever convinced your man to go to a Halloween party or a costume party of any sorts and he’s dressed up, know that he’s cheated on you. You’re welcome. Now, what you do with that information is up to you. It’s just a theory I’m working on, but I think it’s foolproof. Because this is how this conversation should go if you’re in a relationship with a man who’s never cheated on you. “Hey, honey, next week, we’re going to go to this funny Christmas sweater party.” “Fuck that.” “What?” “Nope, no, I’m not. I’m an adult. “I’m gonna stay home and watch TV and then go to bed.” That’s what a man says that has never cheated on you. A man that’s cheated on you goes, “Oh, I owe her. “Yeah, that sounds fun. Let’s go.” I only like this joke because I know there’s a guy in here right now going, “What the fuck was that about? Out of nowhere.”
I grew up in Florida. I’m a die-hard Dolphins fan. Cheering for the Dolphins is like getting tested for an STD. I think I could win, but I know I don’t deserve to. And I don’t care that people boo. You need people to hate your team, or cheering for your team’s no fun. That’s the whole point. If I make a sexist joke and a group of women are offended by it, these same moron guys will be like, “Oh, the world’s so PC. You can’t tell jokes anymore.” But if I make fun of their team, they’re like, “I will fucking kill you.” Oh, it is so fun to make fun of people’s sports teams. I’m actually one of the few people that’s a die-hard Heat fan that’s glad LeBron went back to Cleveland. If you’ve never been to Cleveland, congratulations. Cleveland’s one of the few places ISIS could fly over and they’d be like, “Oh, my goodness, what happened down there? “No one should have to live like that. “Is there anything we can do to help them get back on their feet?” That’s how bad Cleveland– you can take a newborn baby onstage in Cleveland, Ohio, douse it in gasoline, light it on fire, and punt it into the crowd, and they will be less offended than if you go, “Well, I see why LeBron left this shithole.” Which is all I said to start my show, and it ruined it. Like, they literally were like, “Well, we’re not gonna laugh anymore.” “Well, I’m not gonna give you your money back.” I don’t– Oh, no, I burned this market. Let’s just put it in perspective for you. They crucified this kid for leaving. You forget he was a kid ’cause he looked 40 when he was 8. But he left when he was a 25-year-old billionaire. And he’s not even from Cleveland. He’s from Akron. That’s a shittier city 90 miles away, and–wait for it– he’s from the shitty part of the shittier city. And he just wanted to play basketball someplace else, and they killed him. I grew up on a private golf course in Florida. If I had a billion dollars when I was 25 years old, I would shit on this stage mid-set. Just shit, stare at you people, continue my act, like, “Hey, pick that up.” You’d be like, “What? I’m not picking that up.” And I’d say, “What’d you say?” And then I’d throw a million dollars at your head. And you’d be like, “God damn it, I’m picking this up, aren’t I?” I would be out of my mind. Or when people get on Justin Bieber for drinking and speeding in his car. Yeah, a 21-year-old billionaire. You want to know how I would act if I had that kind of money at that age? I would rollerblade around Los Angeles, jerking off on hot chicks. None of you would have an issue with it. You’d be like “That’s Daniel, ah.” “He’s only 21. “He hasn’t figured things out yet. “He’s worth a billion dollars. That’s pressure that I can’t relate to.”
My opening line in New Orleans, beautiful theater like this, nice ovation. I walk onstage. The first thing out of my mouth before thank you, “Fuck the Saints. “I’m not gonna pander to your city just because Mother Nature gave you a much-needed bath.” Trust me when I tell you no one in here has ever experienced a wave of hatred like I have… as if the levees had broke again. They lost their mind. They couldn’t even comprehend it quick enough. “What did he say? I will murder him where he stands.” But then they had the inner dialogue. “That was his first joke. We paid a lot. Go on.” And the only reason I say things like that anyway is because backstage, I have friends like, “I bet you won’t say it.” And apparently $5 still means something to me. I’m like, “What? You don’t think I’ll ruin the show? Watch this.”
I hope the world ends in my lifetime. I want to see it. I don’t want it to end tonight. And I know the hand that I was dealt. When shit hits the fan, I don’t make good decisions. I die hour one. “Hey, we need to go north.” “I don’t know where north is. I’m gonna stay here, guys.” Dead. Some of you, you’re gonna survive for a while. Good for you. Sizing people up as quick as you can. “Do you know how to fly a plane?” “No.” Knife to the throat. “Out of my way. You’re useless.” That’s what I’ve learned from watching movies. If anybody ever comes running up to you screaming, “Do you know how to fly a plane?” muster up some courage in a hurry. “Yep.” Nobody screaming, “Do you know how to fly a plane?” doesn’t have horrible things happening right behind them. Just jump in that cockpit. Just start flipping switches. “Calm down. My plane’s a little different. “Have you out of here in no time. “Does this have a mirror? No. Okay, that was a joke, haha.” That’s how you survive a little bit longer.
I watch any TV show with Alaska in the title just so I can see what a real man is supposed to look like. Or Bear Grylls? I love him. A British Green Beret giving us survival tactics while we sit on the couch and snack. Come on, who’s that show for? I can rule out half the planet. I don’t know a woman that can do one pull-up, let alone climb a vine up a waterfall to eat a bat. Yeah, heads up, ladies, you’re gonna die at the bottom. I’m going up there to eat bat. Do you know how to eat a bat? I saw this episode. I’ll tell you. It’s not as hard as you think. First thing you have to do, catch a fucking bat. I’m out. Catch a bat? Yeah, I can’t kill a fly in under three hours in my house with equipment. You want me to blindly walk into a scary cave and barehand a flying AIDS rat? That’s literally all he does. He just walks in and just snatches it by the feet or hooves or whatever the fuck bats have. And close your eyes, PETA. Here comes the tough part. Then he just bashes it over a rock ’cause he wants his snack tender. Meanwhile his camera crew’s just laughing, eating Luna bars, like, “What the fuck is wrong with him? “Doesn’t this stinky Brit realize “American reality television is fake? “We can pause the camera and put granola and pudding down “and be like, ‘You have to eat your bat to survive.'” He’s chewing on a real bat; he’s like, “Uh-oh, this could be a poisonous bat.” What the fuck did you just say? It’s 11:30 at night. I’m trying to go to bed. Now I have to get up and Google what bats are edible? “If there’s a faint yellow diamond under the left eye, be wary.”
I’m looking at women that aren’t laughing. My guess is, you’re hung up on the part where I said you can’t do a pull-up and you checked out? “I can do a pull-up.” Yeah, and there’s a reason you’re here alone. Your shoulders are gross and nobody likes you. You should knock it off with the CrossFit. Nobody needs to flip a tire in 2015. We all have AAA. You haven’t had your period in four years for a reason. You’re growing a dick. Now– now lighten up. May I open the door for you? “Nope, I’ve got it.” [blows forcefully] “Woman.” You’re the superior sex. I don’t care.
You ever get road rage? That’s embarrassing. I’ve had road rage before and won, and I’ve had road rage and lost. I’m gonna tell you two different stories. You can determine which is which. And the first one, I want to point out, I was pretty young at the time. And the only reason I want you to know that is because I don’t approve of what I said. But I had just moved out here to Los Angeles. I was in traffic in my Acura with the sunroof open. Yeah, I was doing pretty well from day one. Started from the upper-middlish. Now I’m here. I was yelling through my sunroof at a guy in a delivery truck, and I don’t remember what we were fighting over. But at one point, I may have yelled, “That’s why you have to work on Saturday, you piece of shit.” And then he spit a mouthful of Doritos onto me. So I lost, right? If a man spits a mouthful of Doritos on your face, you have two options. You can, one, get a machete and murder everyone in his family. Or, two, you can close your sunroof because that psycho is not bluffing. I had chewed-up Dorito on my lip. I can still feel it right now. I didn’t have any napkins in my glove compartment. That was over 15 years ago. You think there’s napkins in my glove compartment today? You’re goddamn right there is. Every time I go to a restaurant, I take a big “fuck you to the environment” stack. And they’re like, “Hey, don’t take so many napkins.” I’m like, “I had chewed-up Dorito from another man on my face.”
Now, here’s a time more recently that I had road rage. I think I handled things a little more maturely. Again, I was in Los Angeles. I was on the 10 Freeway eastbound, middle lane– don’t know what that says about my personality, but that’s where you’ll find me. I’m not an aggressive driver. Drive a station wagon. I was doing nothing wrong. I saw a car changing lanes, driving like a maniac, cutting people off. He was coming toward me. He wanted me to get out of the way. I chose not to. I’m like, “Fuck it, slam into me.” He didn’t, but he got on my bumper, and he was irritated, and he was flipping me off. I notice he has a wedding ring on, and his wife’s in the front seat. And at that moment, oh, I got real confident. Because I’m like, “There’s no way “you’re gonna go to the level of crazy “that I’m about to, not with your wife sitting next to you.” Like, at some point, she’s gonna have to be the voice of reason. Like, “Stop it, Phillip. Just drive. I’m scared.” So I got real brave, right? I’m flipping him off. I’m brake checking. I’m holding the windshield wiper fluid on. Like– is that your move? Yeah, oh, very passive-aggressive. I’ve cleared my calendar. I’m doing nothing for the rest of my life except irritating this asshole behind me. We’re going about ten miles an hour on the freeway at this point, and he won’t pass me. I kind of respect it. I’m out of fluid. My exit’s coming up. So I get off the freeway, and then he follows me right off the freeway. And at that moment, the real Daniel came crashing back, where I’m like, “Aw, shit. “You were supposed to keep driving. “That’s not your wife. That’s a hooker you’re gonna murder, isn’t it?” Like– You got to think fast. What do you do? Well, I know this exit. It’s the Robertson exit, if you want to verify it. There’s a very large black homeless guy at the bottom with a sign that just said “Food.” I aggressive drove toward him with this guy right on my bumper, slammed on my brakes to a dead stop so he’s pinned behind me, can’t get around. I roll my window down. I give the guy $20. I say, “You need to go crazy on the car behind me.” I swear, he doesn’t even hesitate. Both hands on the hood, cocks his head, starts screaming at the guy. Meanwhile I’m like, “Oh, shit, he’s gonna murder him too.” Now I got blood on my hands, but I don’t really care ’cause it’s a homeless guy. And I’m like, “It’s probably not even the worst decision he’s made today.” So I take off. And the driver shoots me one last look, and I appreciate it because he certainly didn’t have to. But he gave me the, uh, “You won.” [cheers and applause] And I’ve never felt better about anything I have ever done in my entire life. You know, for the rest of his life, every time he gets in the car with his wife, she’s gonna be like, “You remember the one time “with the homeless guy, uh? Maybe I should drive. That’s all I’m saying, hothead.” So remember that next time you lose your cool behind the wheel. Calm down. Find a homeless person. Pay them to do it for you. Way safer, and you feel good about yourself. And the only part of that story I embellished even the slightest bit was the amount of money that I gave him, because if you think I’m giving out 20s, you’re fucking crazier than he was.
Thank you very much. Good night. [cheers and applause]
[“Pepper” by Butthole Surfers] – Some will die in hot pursuit
In fiery auto crashes
Some will die in hot pursuit
While sifting through my ashes
Some will fall in love with life
And drink it from a fountain
That is pouring like an avalanche
Coming down the mountain
I don’t mind the sun sometimes
The images it shows
I can taste you on my lips
And smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary