Christina P is a female comic with a dark sense of humor who refuses to be forced to choose between the classic “madonna/whore” stereotype that many female comedians are shoehorned into. She talks about being a mother and parenthood from the perspective of a true individual, rather than having her femininity being shtick or a burden. She also covers other topics like selfies, lack of bjs post marriage, Midwestern dads, GILFS, her own hardcore Eastern Block parents and an especially hilarious insight into what happens when you tell little boys not to cry.
[male announcer] Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Christina P!
Oh, stop it! Stop it. Sit down, sit down. All right. Stop it. You guys know I can’t handle that much approval.
Oh, my gosh. Thank you so much for coming, Seattle. This is so exciting!
Oh… a lot has happened since I was here last time. That’s right. I made a person come out of me! Yeah. I don’t know if you guys have, uh, children, but having a newborn, it’s, uh, well, it’s a real miracle, you know? I’d say the real miracle is that I stayed sober for nine months. Am I right, ladies? Ha ha ha ha! Here’s the thing though, having a baby, like, it broke me down emotionally, spiritually, physically. Physically, my body is dog shit. I got tits like Rick Ross. I don’t know. This is a pretty white audience. Jonah Hill. Yeah, Jonah Hill.
And it’s so funny because the– the big thing is breast-feeding in public, right? That’s a big scandal. “I don’t wanna see boobs while I’m eating nachos at the restaurant.” “Oh, well, don’t worry about that, sir, because once you have babies, you don’t have boobies no more.” That’s right. ’Cause now I got mom tits. That’s right. Soggy, hanging, mushy, purple nipples! Brown, “covered in skin tags, Morgan Freeman-looking” mom tits! Boobies are for young, beautiful girls– like you. You are– How old are you, Sugar Cans? Twenty-five. Ha ha ha ha! Twenty-five. “What’s gonna happen tomorrow? I don’t even know.” [snorts] “I might go to brunch or, like, Netflix and chill– Whatever. It’s so great. Look at you. See, you’ve got boobies. Everybody stop and look. These are boobs. Crane your neck, lady. Look, yeah. Those are perfect. See, boobies, you want to just snuggle and… and… You know, like a soft-serve ice cream. You wanna mash it in your face! Aaah! But mom tits… Mom tits you wanna throw in the trash.
And it’s messed up because, like, none of my, uh, girlfriends told me how hard it was having children. Like, women don’t admit to feeling ambivalent sometimes about raising kids. Instead they use soft language, and they say things like, “Well, hmm… having a child, it’s, uh… [chuckling] Well, it’s challenging.” I’m like, No. No! No. Sticking to a diet is challenging. Doing a yoga pose is challenging. Holding in a fart during a massage… Which I can’t do anymore, by the way. No, I love my son. I do. He was, like, the best thing that ever happened to me. He is the love of my life. His name is Ellis, and he’s 18 months old. And I– I love him so much. And I am– Thank you, yes. Thank you for love. Oh! I love him so much, and I am a fierce mama wolf. And I would slit all of your throats… [screams] …to save my kid’s life. But… But sometimes I might lock myself in the bathroom and clean my ears, and I might just push that Q-tip all the way in. It’s challenging.
Nobody tells you that, like, pregnancy, that’s the fun part. Being pregnant was so fun, you know. ’Cause I would get the ultrasounds every week, ’cause I was, like, an old mom, and I would mess with those nurses. They’d have that wand in me, and I’d be like, “Oh, hey, can you see if my high school boyfriend’s class ring is still in there? Can you tell if my son is gay? How ’bout black? I don’t know.” The best part was lying to my husband. Because they don’t know anything about the female body. You can tell them anything, you know. I’d be like, “Oh, Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo, there’s so much I can’t do now that I’m pregnant. Oh, I can’t have wine. I can’t eat sushi. Oh, yeah, I can’t give blow jobs either. No. I read on the Internet they make the baby autistic.” Of course, he’s like, “So?”
It’s challenging. It’s kinda crazy when you think about it though, like, philosophically, when you think about how much it takes to make every one of you, every human being. I mean, like, a woman carries you lovingly in her body for nine months. And then [raspberry] births you. And then carries you in her arms for two more years and feeds you and loves you and reads to you and sings to you. And I gotta tell you, most of you, not worth it. A lot of goddamn losers on the planet. Just genetically speaking, millions of Snookis… one Beyoncé. Most of you won’t win a Pulitzer Prize or a Cracker Jack prize. What can you do?
But my favorite part of having a baby is they tell you to have a birth plan, right? A fucking birth plan. As if you got anything to do with bringing a child into this world. It’s between God and that baby. Got nothing to do with you. But all these nutbags in LA, they’re like, “Oh, Christina, you gotta have that baby naturally. You gotta do it natural. You gotta give birth naked in a creek. You can bite on branches for the pain. Argh! Well, women have been doing it that way for thousands of years.” Well, yeah, before drugs were invented. They were like, “Christina, what’s your birth plan?” I was like, “Motherfucker, I plan on not feeling shit!” Give me the 1950s birth. Put me out, wake me up three days later with a baby and a martini. Let’s hand that kid off to some nice overweight black lady in a maid costume. Let Maisy raise it.
Well, here’s– The black guy’s laughing. It’s fine. Guys, relax, okay? I mean… I can feel your collective anuses tightening. Like, “This is Seattle. We don’t joke like that.” So they told me– They were like, “Christina, you’re gonna have to have a C-section.” So we schedule it. ’Cause they were like, the baby’s head is so big, and you’re so small. Like your… your meow is so petite. So, I was like, “Awesome. I’m gonna have my C-section, yeah.” Okay. So what do you think happened on the day of my planned C-section? Moms? That’s right. I went into labor! And I squeezed a human out of this tiny, little fragile meow. And I had to have an episiotomy. [women] No! Oh, yeah. For those of you who don’t know, they had to cut my taint. [giggles, snorts] The area between my balls and my butt hole. Whoo-hoo-hoo! [laughs, snorts] Wow! Wow! You think childbirth is scary. Uh, not as terrifying as that first post-episiotomy dump. Holy shit, that is a nail-biter, huh? [nervous giggling] Oh, ’cause it’s all Frankenstein loose-meat sandwich down there. Yeah. Do you guys have Arby’s here? You know what I’m talking about? You dip it in the juice and then the… Oh. Nobody tells you that stuff, man.
Nobody tells you. And nobody tells you this, okay? It’s not good, but– I don’t mean to scare you guys, but when you have a baby… you kinda hate your husband. I mean not– Just for, like, a lot. You really hate him. Just in the beginning, you know. You’re so full of hormones, and it’s so traumatic, it’s so weird. And, I mean, you could be married to Gandhi, and you would just still just hate him! Like, I remember breast-feeding our son in the middle of the night, just breast-feeding our kid at 4:00 in the morning, rocking, muttering to myself in the dark. “You motherfucker. Well, your career keeps going. I’m stuck here breast-feeding this baby. Well, have fun in New York. That must be nice.” “Can I help you with anything?” “Yes, you can grow a pair of tits. How ’bout that?” But then it passes. It passes. And then you go back to normal, you know. And, actually, I really like my husband. I like him. I love him. I don’t know why people marry people they hate. You can choose who you marry. This isn’t India. Just… I love my husband. I laugh at his jokes. I think he’s fantastic. And then all day, every day, I wanna punch him in his dumb face.
And it’s not the big things that make you wanna kill your spouse. It’s little stuff. Little stuff. Like, why does he have to ask me where everything is… all the time… in his own goddamn house? Like I’m Carson, the butler, and we live in Downton Abbey or something. All day on a loop– “Where are the keys? Where’s the dog? Where’s the garage?” When we got married, we were so poor we lived in a studio apartment. A studio apartment. And he had the nerve to ask me where stuff was. “Where’s the spatula?” I’m like, “Motherfucker.” Everything we own… is out. Like, what… How lazy are you? But I don’t nag. Don’t nag. It falls on deaf ears.
Do what I do: Use positive reenforcement. Positive. Like Cesar Millan. [Spanish accent] “I use calm assertive energies. I am the pack leader.” So when I see the behavior I’d like to see more of, I encourage it. I’ll see him doing something, I’ll get up behind him, I’ll be like, “Oh, oh, yeah. Mmm, you loading up that dishwasher? Oh, you know clean dishes make me wanna suck stuff.” But don’t say that unless you mean it ’cause… they’ll come looking for payment quick. And then you gotta be like, “No!” Or whatever that stupid… Well, no, ’cause there’s a small window where a woman will do that, you know. And I mean like in the beginning of the relationship, that’s the best for a guy. That’s blow job season. In the beginning, we’re so thrilled to be there, we’ll blow you for anything. You got me tickets to the comedy show? [grunting] Six-piece McNuggets. [grunting] You open the car door for me? [grunting] And then you get married, and it’s like… “Honeymoon blow job? No, we stopped serving that yesterday. Yeah, that ain’t on the menu anymore, my man.” You better get that while the getting’s good. But you gotta do that stuff, you know, you gotta, “Oh, I love it.”
Well, you have to, man. I don’t wanna be single. Are you kidding me? No way, not in this era. Uh-uh. No way. ’Cause women, you know, we can’t just get all old and fat like in the good ol’ days, you know? Like, now, now we gotta maintain our fuckability at every era of our lives. It’s exhausting. You know, Kathy Bates is an amazing actress because she kinda has to be. You know, I mean, like, you turn 30, you pump out a kid, and now they call you “MILF.” Blah-blah-blah! Forty, and now I’m a cougar. [snarls] Then you’re a grandma, and you’re like, “Ah, sweet. I’m out of the system.” No, you ain’t. Now, now, they call you a “GILF.” “A grandma I’d like to fuck.” No, not Nana. Not sweet, butterscotch candy-givin’ Nana! No! And here’s the thing that’s wack. There’s nothin’ for dudes, right? They don’t call you guys animal names or acronyms. They don’t call you guys “DILFS.” Well, it’s true, you know, ’cause there’s no such thing as a dad you wanna fuck. Well, no, I know this because I’ve been in the airports in the Midwest, and I have seen the dads. Oh, I’ve seen you dads. “Really, Dad? You think some woman is gonna be like, ‘Oh, yeah. Dad. Oh. I love those faded blue jeans you got on. Mm-mmm! Oh, is that a brown braided belt? How do you keep those white New Balance sneakers so white, Dad? Oh, oh, is that a phone holster? Ring-ring, official dad business. Dad, I love the clever way you kept those glasses on your head with that rope.’” But what always gets me, dads, it’s always in the jeans. Oh, it’s always in those jeans. ’Cause they’re always so high… and so tight. They’re so high and tight. [cheering] Yeah! You can almost see the outline… of Dad’s vagina. Right next to that expired Subway punch card in Dad’s wallet.
Oh, my God. Who am I? Who are we? Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe I’m a parent. I can’t believe I have to raise a human in this world. The world is so messed up. And– And I feel bad for this generation. I really feel bad for millennials, for you guys, like… yeah. Well, ’cause everybody hates you so much. See? They hate you. [laughs] “Yeah, kill her. Yeah.” I know, it’s so messed up, and I think the reason that people don’t like you that are my age is because you guys like yourselves so much. You guys have self-esteem. And my generation, we did not. Like, we hated ourselves. Like, our song was “Loser,” by Beck. Right. But it’s not your fault, man. What happened was the Gen Xers– I’m a Gen Xer, I guess, on the tail end of it, whatever– we overcompensated for our crummy childhoods, and we oversteered the ship, man. And now there’s helicopter parenting and attachment parenting and homeschooling and unschooling and paleo diet and vegan diet. Nobody can get their feelings hurt. Safety obsession. In my neighborhood, a child can’t even walk to the park by themselves unless they wear a sign that says “free-range kid.”
Yeah, we’re all freaked out about stuff that we decided on long ago. Things like vaccines. There are people who are not vaccinating their children. Yeah. And you know why? It kind of happened, in part, because of Jenny McCarthy. -You know who Jenny McCarthy is, yeah. -[audience murmuring, booing] Former Playboy playmate, uh, author of nine books. Nine books. The Ernest Hemingway of cum Dumpsters, yeah. So… Uh, which is fine, but Jenny– What happened was Jenny– Jenny read a study, or somebody read it to her, and… the study linked autism to vaccines. It was later totally disproven, okay? But, in the meantime, this dum-dum went on all the women’s talk shows… and told women not to vaccinate their children. And now you have women in LA saying things like, “Well… I don’t have to vaccinate my kid ’cause there’s no such thing as whooping cough or polio.” Well, yeah, because of the vaccine, you dumb cunt.
Yeah. That’s kind of how it works. Everyone gets the shot, and then we’re all immune to the disease, but it only works if we all participate. Like a potluck or a circle jerk. And why are we taking advice from the lady who married the wrong Wahlberg?
I was reading about the greatest generation. So these are Americans born during the Depression era, so they grow up all poor and shitty. And then… And then, lucky them, they got to go fight World War II. But here’s the thing. They came back from the war, and they built this country into the powerhouse economy that it was at the time. Discipline, hardship, fortitude. Now, I’m not saying that this generation… hasn’t had its share of hardships. I mean, who can forget… the great gluten intolerance? Or the peanut allergies that ravage the nation’s kindergartens? Or the horrors… of dial-up Internet? I can’t say it. But you guys have renamed collard greens “kale.” That was pretty awesome. That was good, right? Whatever. You know what? The greatest generation, they played Call of Duty too. Except for real in foxholes… in France.
There’s no rebellion in you guys. There’s no rebellion. You guys are supposed to hate your parents’ music, not remix it, right? You know that. It ain’t your fault. We sucked it right out of you. We sucked the rebellion right out of you. And we did it by making you offended at everything. It’s a full-time job being offended. “I’m offended.” Do you know that people are offended by things Justin Bieber tweets? Who I love. I love Justin Bieber. He is so pretty. He is growing into a lovely Hilary Swank. I adore him. But he’s not offensive. Come on, man, come on. I mean, I grew up in an era with a bad bitch named Madonna. Yes, now, Madonna, in the “Like a Prayer” video, was burning crosses… and French-kissing black Jesus. Whoa! Now, that’s offensive. Especially because we all know Jesus is white, right? Up tall, my man. Yeah. Racist, racist. Wow. Did you see that? Wow. “Make America Great Again.” I heard you, sir.
Offended. It’s so stupid. I grew up in such an offensive household. My parents divorced, and then my mother remarried to an Indian guy. Like a fuckin’… [imitates sitar] Like… Indian guy, man. Like diarrhea, not cowboy. Indian. Temple of Doom, not Dances with Wolves. 7-Eleven, not 911. There it is. There it is. I call that guy the “Turbanator” every day. There were no tears. Whatever.
Remember… Remember a time… Remember a time when you just had a racist dad? Even if you weren’t white, your dad just hated every other race. And he said crazy stuff all the time. Like, “The Chinese are eating all the cookies. Women can’t read.” I didn’t internalize that stuff. You know how much sexist crap I heard growing up? You think I let them define me? No way. Yeah, man, don’t let the outside world tell you who you are. Instead I just went, “Oh, yeah, my dad’s an asshole.” And I moved on with my life. Don’t let them tell you.
And stop it. Stop trying to make old white guys politically correct. It ain’t gonna happen. It ain’t gonna happen. And it’s not their fault, you know. ’Cause they were raised like serial killers. It’s true. Guys your dad’s age, they were told as little boys not to cry. Could you imagine that? Telling a little boy, like, “Ah, suck it up, sissy! Quit your crying, homo!” You know what happens, by the way, when you tell little boys not to cry? They grow up to become men who grab women by their pussies. That’s right.
I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’m gonna raise a boy in today’s world. I mean I can’t, um– I can’t dress him up in blue. Well, because he hasn’t chosen his gender identity yet. It’s child abuse. I have to call him “toddler self” or “baby self.” Have you heard about this stuff called “non-binary”? [giggles] Okay. This is mind-blowing to me. I don’t know. Uh, so there’s this thing– It’s not the same as sexual orientation. It’s not like being gay or straight or bisexual. It’s your gender expression, right? So, in the morning, you could be like, “Hey, I’m a woman.” And then by lunch, be like, “I’m kind of a dude.” You can be astral-gendered. Yes, color-gendered. You can be animal-gendered. You can ask that people call you different pronouns, like “zim, zer, or zey.” Imagine explaining non-binary to your dad. My dad was like, “Oh, yeah. [Hungarian accent] We used to call them faggots.” Well, you can’t explain that stuff to old people. Okay? My dad still doesn’t get the difference between the TV and cable remotes. It’s been 15 years! But that whole non-binary “zim-zer”… That stuff’s always been around. That’s not new, by the way. That ain’t new. But… But the zim-zers have always been spectacular. They’ve always been exceptional. You know what I mean? They’ve always been, like, David Bowie. Not Keegan who runs the juice bar at Whole Foods.
But whatever. I don’t discriminate based on gender or sexual orientation or race or weight. None of that, man. I don’t judge based on that. I judge based on grammar.
Yeah. Oh, yeah. If I have to hear one more person say, “Me and Tom are going to the beach,” or “Me and Stacy are going to dinner.” It’s never “me and so-and-so,” fucktard. -You sound…
You sound like Cookie Monster when you say that. “Oh, me lost me cookie at the disco. Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy!” Yeah, me is gonna have an aneurysm if I have to hear that one more time.
And you don’t go and check out books from the “liberry.”
You don’t go to Starbucks and order an “expresso.”
It’s not “irregardless.”
J.Lo’s ass is not “volumptuous.”
And you don’t lack the “stanima.”
Yeah. But my personal favorite is when people are like, “You know what, Christina? That’s just a blessing in the skies.” And I’m like, “Oh, yeah? Way up there, huh?” [sighs]
And then Caitlyn Jenner happened. Oh, are we sufficiently sick and tired of Caitlyn Jenner? [snorts] Yeah, I’m over it. Over it. -[applauding] And I’m not ragging on Caitlyn because she’s transgendered or a member of the LGBT-QRSTUV, sometimes-Y community. How many letters are we gonna add to that? It’s like solving the final puzzle on Wheel of Fortune . “Call me Caitlyn. Call me Caitlyn, damn it.” All right. Shit. We’ve been calling you Bruce for 70 years. Give us a minute! We’ll catch up to you. “Caitlyn.” Caitlyn’s not, like, a hot girl name. You know, you’d think that you’d wait 70 years to be a woman, you’d choose kind of a– kind of a sexy name. You’d think one of her girlfriends would have been like, “Look, bitch. Uh-uh. Caitlyn– Caitlyn ain’t a hot name. Caitlyn does your taxes. But Krystal? She’s a whore. Like, Caitlyn will go down on you. But Krystal? She’ll eat your ass.” Yeah.
I mean, the honest-to-God truth is, why I’m annoyed with Caitlyn Jenner, is ’cause that whole thing happened and it was like the sky opened and comedy manna just fell. And all the comedians were like, “Yes! Ch-Ching! Here it is, guys! Bruce is Caitlyn. Let’s go.” But we weren’t allowed to make fun of her. Nobody was allowed to make fun of Caitlyn Jenner because Caitlyn Jenner’s a hero! Caitlyn Jenner’s a hero! All right, all right, Caitlyn Jenner’s a hero. But let’s not forget the other hero, which is Photoshop. Am I right? Okay? A little– It’s still a little ratchet, you know. “Uh, Christina, that’s trans-phobic.” Well, she wants to be a woman, it’s time to get criticized like one. [cheering, applause] Oh! Welcome to the sisterhood, bitch! And fuck you for joining after menopause.
She can handle it. Caitlyn’s a big girl. She can handle the jokes. She’s a member of the most famous family in the world. And the TV show, Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Oh, my God, I’m over it, man. I love the title. It’s very misleading, first of all. Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Keeping up with them? Like, whoa, what are these women doing? Are we digging wells in Uganda? Are we feeding Romanian orphans? Nope. Just waxing our pussies. It’s our fault. Women. We’re watching this crap. And then there’s spin-off shows. There’s Kourtney and Kim Take New York and Kourtney and Kim Take Miami . How about Kourtney and Kim Take Algebra? I’d watch every episode of that show. “Oh, my God. Math is hard. Can’t I just blow someone to do it for me?” Well, you’re in luck, Kim. The Miami Heat’s in town. Oh, right. Like those guys can do math. Come on.
Kourtney and Kim. What the fuck? If those two girls weren’t rich, it would be Kourtney and Kim Take Your Order. I mean, I don’t know. They’re okay. I mean, they’re pretty. That’s awesome. I just feel like I don’t– I don’t, uh, like the narcissism. They’re just too narcissistic. This whole thing– What is that where you take the same picture of yourself over and over? -What is that called? -[man] Selfie. Mental illness. Thank you. Yeah. [laughing] “Love me, Daddy? How ’bout now?” “Maybe if I get enough ‘likes’ it’ll fill the void in my heart.” [whines]
I don’t know. I grew up in a crazy– We grew up in a crazy, resilient time. You know that our generation is considered the least-parented generation? That’s true. Look that shit up on Wikipedia. It’s there. The least-parented. And we dealt with crazy stuff, man. Like, uh, crack cocaine. And AIDS. And Friends. I remember when AIDS first came out, you didn’t know how you could get it. Nobody knew how you could get AIDS, and people would say crazy stuff like, “You can catch AIDS from a toilet seat at a musical.” -We had no idea. -[mild laughter] I like that joke so much more than you do. [laughter] I’m never gonna stop telling it. Never. It’s for me. Just for me. Yeah, we were the least-parented generation. We were latchkey kids. You know what that is, Millennial? “Is that a band?” No, it’s not a band. Okay, so a latchkey kid– Here’s what it was. You had a key to your own house and you would go to junior high school or whatever and school would let out, and then rather than arrange for proper child care… you would let yourself into your own home. And then… I don’t know. You could be alive by the time your mom got home. And we ate terrible food, food you could only cook in a microwave ’cause you couldn’t use the stove until your mom got home. Yeah, I grew up on a steady white trash diet of tater tots, frozen pizza with that fake cheese– it wasn’t even cheese, it was rubber– and Chef Boyardee in the can. Oh, it was so good, with the fake meatballs. And then you’d eat it and have, like, an electric orange ring… around your mouth. People are like, “Are you wearing lipstick?” “No, just the glow of a healthy diet.”
But to this day, my death row meal is macaroni and cheese. [audience] Whoo! Dude, that is my jam! I love that shit! Now, my husband grew up with two parents who never threw plates of food at each other. [mock blabbering] Mm-hmm. So he didn’t know how to make macaroni and cheese. Right. So I was like, “You’d better get your entire life… I’m gonna show you how to do this.” So I was showing him how to make macaroni and cheese and explaining to him how it’s never cheesy enough. There’s never enough goddamn orange powder. It’s never cheesy enough! He goes, “Why don’t you open up a second box… take the flavor packet out of that one… and put that on the first.” I was like, “Motherfucker, we’re not millionaires! Oh, okay, Rockefeller, yes. Oh, I bet you pay for Pandora too, huh?” Uh-uh.
We had things called PSA’s– public service announcements. These taught you how to raise yourself. There were commercials on television that taught kids how to not get set on fire. And little Emmanuel Lewis would come out– little Webster– “Hey, kids, we know you love to play with matches. Nobody’s gonna tell you to stop. But if you get set on fire– I don’t know, stop, drop and roll or some shit. That’s your problem. And that’s one to grow on. Except for me. I’m a forever puppy.”
And then there was, um– there was a dog who wore a detective’s costume. McGruff! Ironically, the detective’s costume also looked like a pedophile’s… outfit. And he had that terrifying East Coast accent. And he’d be, like, “Hey, kids! You see a guy who’s got a van in an alley who says he’s got somethin’ to show you, don’t look! That guy’s gonna fuck you! Now, take a bite out of my cock– I mean, crime! Crime! Crime.”
It’s interesting, ’cause once you have kids you start to look at how you were raised, you know. And my therapist is always saying things like, “Well, Christina, you know, your parents, they did the best they could.” Not really. Nope. [laughs] I mean, I have empathy for them because they were immigrants. My parents had a hard-knocks life. They escaped from Hungary during Communism and– For those of you who might not remember, Communism… is when Rocky fought Ivan Drago. So my parents escaped from a country full of murder and poverty and corruption and they moved to Detroit. Yeah, kind of a lateral move.
But, uh– My mom is gone now. But she was– she was really crazy. And, like, not– Mmm. Not the way every comedian comes up here and is like, “Oh, my mom’s so crazy. One time she mixed ranch dressing with Thousand Island dressing.” No, my mom was legit cray-cray. Like tinfoil on the windows to block out alien frequencies. Wouldn’t use the telephone or send e-mails because they’re listening! Turns out they are, but that’s… another story. Ah! Mom’s always right. [chuckles]
I still have my dad, and my dad is, like, a hard-core Eastern Bloc dude, you know. He was a forklift mechanic his whole life. He eats sausage three meals a day. Hates feelings, loves Speedos. That’s my dad. And my father had a real love for our family dog. And as dogs do, this one died. And he was reminiscing with me the other day about our family dog. He goes, “Ah, Christika, ah, fuck, I loved this dog. I mean, I come home from work, he’s happy to see me. I go take a piss in the other room, he’s following me. I have so much love for this dog. I have a– What’s the word? Unconditional love. I don’t feel this way for anybody else.” Yeah. Our son was learning how to walk. It was, like, the most awesome moment in a parent’s life. Right? “Oh, my God, my baby’s walking.” And my dad’s there and we’re encouraging him. We’re like, “Come on, baby, you can do it! Come on, Ellis, you can do it! Good job, good job, good job!” My dad goes, “Ah, shit. Come on, come on, come on, come on. All this ‘good job, good job, good job.’ How about at, like, the end of the day, one ‘good job’?” ’Cause we’re raising a Russian gymnast.
You know, you gotta… My therapist says I’m being too negative, so I wanna close this special on something positive. Let’s talk about death. -Yay! Okay, good. Yeah!
Oh, how fun! I hate it when old celebrities die. Not when it’s the young ones. When it’s the young ones I get excited. “Oh, is Macaulay Culkin finally gone?” Any day now it’s gonna happen. Put him on your death pool. I just hate it because in LA when an old celebrity dies, they cover it on the news 24-7. I remember when Nancy Reagan died. It was like, “Oh! Oh! Nancy Reagan dead at 94! The tragic and untimely death… of Nancy Reagan.” And you’re like, what? I mean, what did you think was gonna happen this year for Nance? Did you think she was gonna join CrossFit and learn Mandarin? Ninety-four! You shouldn’t live that long. Did you know, in the medieval period you died at 35? Thirty-five, lights out. And you died of crazy stuff. Like, a dragon would come out of the sky! [hisses] Breathe fire on you! Orcs with their machetes would just– [snarls] Slice you right in half, man.
Ninety-four? What are you gonna do with that much life? And I’m not, like, suicidal or anything like that. Like, I love life. I am a goddess. I made life. But there’s only so much shit you can do on the planet. You know what I mean? Like, you’re born, hopefully, in a first-world country, right? If you’re lucky, you get two parents. Maybe one of them is remotely normal. You go to junior high school. You learn to smoke some cigarettes. You turn goth. You get finger-blasted by some nice guy behind the racquetball courts. In the summer of 1991 you go to Lollapalooza and drop two hits of acid instead of one, freak out and lose your mind during Jane’s Addiction’s “Ocean Size.” You have to leave, and you forever regret that because they broke up shortly after and you never got to see them perform. You go to college. You study philosophy. You graduate, only to find that they aren’t hiring at the philosophy company. You get a job, or 22 of them in the course of four years, that you either quit or get fired from until you find something you really enjoy doing, and you stick to it and you grind it out, week after week, in seafood restaurants, hibachi grills and dive bars and comedy clubs until finally, finally, after 14 fuckin’ years, they give you your own goddamn comedy special in Seattle!
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah. You get married, you pump out some kids, you get a mortgage. You come to the comedy show. You make the mistake of sitting in the front row. You go home. You screw. You take a shit. And then you die. And that’s it. Unless you’re Buddhist. Then rinse and repeat. And that’s life! And that’s life. And it’s beautiful because it’s finite. There’s a beginning, a middle and an end.
But some people don’t want to leave this planet. Mm-mmm. Some people get greedy with life. Greedy motherfuckers. People like Dick Clark. Oh, you remember Dick Clark, right? Hosted American Bandstand and New Year’s Rockin’ Eve . And he was really good. He was on TV from the time television was invented. Quite literally. Literally. And he was really good at his job. Until one day… Dickie had a stroke. And I mean like a… [groaning] A stroke. It was bad. So bad. Like… You ever see, like, a 15-year-old Chihuahua? Like, a really old one? Blind in one eye, patchy fur, that gnaws on itself. [snarling] But with an ironic name like Sunshine or Hope. That was Dick Clark. I know, and you’d think that somebody who worked in television, where this is really important, might step down from the gig. Not old Dickie. This narcissistic douche bag… refused to stop hosting New Year’s Rockin’ Eve … because he was convinced he was the only person in show biz who could count backwards from ten to one. Now, I wasn’t there for the last time he hosted New Year’s Rockin’ Eve , but, I mean, I’d like to act it out for you, if I…
[audience cheering, applauding]
[laughing] Well, I guess I have to. Okay! Here we go. [clears throat] Dick Clark hosting New Year’s Rockin’ Eve for the last time. Here it is. Hey, we’re comin’ at you live from Times Square. We got Dick Clark down on the ground. Hey, Dick, tell us, how do all those hot guys and gals look tonight? I can see their pussies! [laughs] Ah, Dick, we never know what you’re gonna say. Hey, why don’t you go ahead and just do the countdown, Dick? Just go ahead and count us down. Ten… four… Salmon is delicious Aw, geez, these Puerto Ricans basically fuck in the street, don’t they? Well, that’s it for us. I’d really watch that show if he did that.
I think my therapist is right. I’m being too negative. That’s why I’m gonna get positive on death. Here is my proposal to you, Seattle. You give me the last two weeks of your life and we go on… your last cruise. Hear me out. I get us a nice ship. A nice one. Not that Carnival Walmart-at-sea shit. Like a… Like one of those Italian ones, you know? You come on my boat, I give you a bag of black tar heroin… and a bunch of filthy needles. ’Cause who gives a shit, right? [laughs, snorts] And we do all the drugs you’ve ever wanted to do. It’s LSD, GHB, DMT. We call Cosby, get some quaaludes. Crystal meth. Cocaine. We get so high that we grind our teeth down to nubbins. [yapping] We have the cosmic realization that there’s only one of us here. We’re all spokes on the same wheel of human existence. There is no man, there is no woman, there is no black, there is no white, there is no non-binary– [whispers] There is no non-binary. We’re all manifestations of one glorious, loving being. Love is the only thing that matters. Love is the only thing that is real. Control is an illusion. The only thing you can control are the thoughts in your head, and as Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. And as Bill and Ted said, be excellent to each other. [cheering, applause] Yes, thank you. Thank you. [clears throat]
And after that the buffet, because we haven’t eaten in, like, four days. And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s, uh, macaroni and cheese with plenty of orange. Chef Boyardee. As many cans as you like. There’s a chocolate fountain that guys can stick their wieners in. “Whoo! Look at me!” So we’ve done the drugs, we’ve done the eating.
And now comes the sex. Oh, the sex. And it is Sodom and Gomorrah. Everybody runs a train on the millennial. Oh, there’s so much fucking and sucking and 69, or whatever that is. And there’s so much cum. There’s so much. And just when you think there can’t be more cum… Katy Perry comes on board. And she blows all the guys. But none of the wives or girlfriends get mad because Ryan Gosling, he comes on board. And he listens to all of us. Glorious. Glorious.
Okay, so, you know, that’s it. It’s the end of the two weeks and we’ve done all the partying we can handle. That’s it. It’s the end of the road. And that’s when I bring out the catapult. Oh, Seattle sees where this is going. Some cities don’t. I bring out the catapult, I put you in it and– Psssshhh! I shoot you off into the ocean and you get eaten by a megalodon shark. Guys, those are real. The shark eats you, digests you. [imitates fart] You know, craps you out. And then your soul goes to heaven. Because in my world, we all go to heaven. That’s right. And you get to meet God. And holy shit. It’s Dick Clark! “These Puerto Ricans are fuckin’ everywhere up here!”
Thank you guys so much!
What a wonderful night! Thank you so much for being here!