Guys, I’m telling you, this is it. This is, this is… I’ve tried everything, okay? This is my shining moment as a father for you. I’ve tried wrapping up a pancake like a burrito with syrup on it, but that gets way too messy. I’ve tried taking a bite of a pancake, then just pouring syrup into my mouth to get that right ratio. That has not worked. What I have found works the best is you cut the center out of the pancake, right? You remove the center. Then you pour syrup into the center. So that’s gonna soak up that syrup right in the middle, and that’s gonna be the best part of the pancake. Plus, what you’ve done without even knowing it is you’ve saved the middle of the pancake…
Uh, Dad?
That’s the greatest bite in pancake history.
Dad? Dad, don’t you have to go to a show? Figure out the tip. Who’s gonna do it?
I got it, I got it. Because I know for every $10, you leave a $2 bill. So this is $30, so that’s three $2 bills. That’s six money. That’s perfect, man. That’s actually a great way to think about it. Way to go. Dad, don’t forget your passport. All right, we gotta move. Let’s go.
Ladies and gentlemen, Chad Daniels!
Hi, everyone! Hello! Hi! I’m glad you’re here. This is, uh, this is gonna be okay. I want you to know that I know that I don’t look like you thought I would. Take it in. I realize that. My kids remind me that I’ve gotten older every day, every day. I dropped my son off one time and he goes, “God, you’ve aged like a president.” And then my daughter goes, “I was thinking guacamole.” So, you know, they’re pretty cool, right? Yeah, right. I grew a beard, that can make a guy look older. But I grew a beard for two reasons, number one… Beards are like sweatpants for your face. Doesn’t matter how chubby you’re getting when you’re wearing one. Man, I grew a beard for a whole year. And then shaved it to the skin. What an asshole. Who does that? I mean, just in one thing. Dee, dee-dee, dee-dee, dee-dee. I looked in the mirror and I was like… No-no-no-no-no-no! It was crazy. What was I doing? Just sat in my bathroom all night going, “Ahh!” Trying to push hair out of my face. But that’s just how you hurt your back. The other reason I grew a beard is ’cause my 18-year-old son challenged me to a beard-growing contest. And, uh, he lost because he is 18. You ever seen an 18-year-old’s beard? Oh, my God, they’re so gross. It’s like a Daddy Long Legs just crawling out feet first. Like a whisker up here and a whisker over here. I have a grandmother that could beat this kid in a beard-growing contest using only moles. I think my son challenged me to a beard-growing contest ’cause pubic hair grew in on other parts of his body, and that grew in full. ‘Cause that is how pubic hair works. Nobody has patchy pubes. Let me rephrase that. I don’t think anybody has patchy pubes. Some of you shut down on that one, you’re like, “Hey, buddy, right here!” What are you doing out of the house? Just stay home and fix your dick mange or whatever it’s… It’s probably not called that, but… That’s what I’m gonna call it. I have never seen pubic hair on my son’s body, but I have for sure seen it shaved off of his body onto my toilet seat. You know where my toilet seat is? It’s in my bathroom. That’s an easy one. Everyone should’ve got that. Do you know where my bathroom is? That is in my bedroom. So that means he walked through my bedroom… And he’s not allowed in there. Because clothes go missing and pillows get moved. And I don’t trust that. A crooked pillow is a mystery I don’t wanna solve. So that goes in the garbage immediately. I just picture him straddling my toilet, and I know, I know he straddled it. ‘Cause there are only pubes on the back half of the toilet seat. If you have a better theory, I’ll listen, but there isn’t one, that’s the only way… ‘Cause I know he wasn’t using painter’s tape and shit to, like, straighten it out. “Hold on, it’s not even yet. Let me get a laser level, I got it.” Just over my toilet. Like he’s making a pair of UGG boots. Right, walking out of my bathroom like, “Fuck it, my dad’ll clean it up!” “I’m 18, I don’t try!” Or, you know, whatever kids say when you’re not around.
The main problem I have with these pubes on the toilet is that during this story, my kids live with me Sunday to Wednesday. They live with their mother Wednesday to Sunday. And he shaved his pubes Wednesday before he went to school. That means he was not going to be home for four days. So I called the cell phone when he was at school to leave a message, but he answered ’cause he’s not a good student. And I said, “Hey, man, found some pubes.” And he said, “Where?” Which leads me to believe… I have not found all the pubes. “What do you mean where?” Why are there options to this conversation? Am I going to happen upon more pubes later this afternoon? Boy, I sure hope not. ‘Cause I taught him how to prank and I know he’s real good at it. I haven’t checked, but I bet you there are pubes in my sleeping bag right now. ‘Cause that’s a hard ass burn. Nobody naps when they’re camping. The first time you get in that bag, the food is in the tree and the fire’s out and you’re like, “Oh, I can’t wait to get some… Oh, those are pubes.” You got me. So I said, “Hey, man, why’d you shave the pubes at my house?” And he goes, “‘Cause Mom’s not there to yell at me.” And I said, “That is the dumbest answer I’ve ever heard. So get back here after school and clean these up.” And he said, “I’m sorry, Father, but according to the custody agreement, I’m at Mother’s now.” And I know that was meant to make me mad, but it didn’t. I was thrilled he used two three-syllable words in one sentence. ‘Cause I have watched him walk into a wall during the daytime. Natural sunlight, guiding his way and just still… thunk. So I waited till Sunday, and he came to my house, and I said, “Hey, man, come give me a hug.” And he came to give me a hug like this and when he did, I spun him around and I put him in a full nelson. And I walked him up the stairs, and I walked him into my bathroom. And I bent him over the toilet like I was rubbing a dog’s nose in its own shit. ‘Cause the pubes were still there. They’re not mine. I’m not cleaning those off. I walked downstairs in my own home for four straight days to use the bathroom ’cause I am committed to parenting. So… So I have him bent over the toilet, and he starts making the weirdest noises. He started going… like that. And I panicked a little bit ’cause when he was two, he had asthma. When he was seven, it went away because of a nebulizer. And I thought, “Oh my God, did I give my kid back asthma? But I didn’t. Turns out, he was just blowing pube dust… to create a clean breathing area. Once I figured that out, I could not stop laughing. Because I’d come to the realization, my son is pubic hair waterboarding himself. And that hits the spot. I was laughing so hard, my grip loosened. He finally wiggles around and he goes, “Why are you doing this to me?!” I said, “‘Cause your mom’s not here to yell at me anymore either. Thank you.
I used to have a story about when my son turned 18, I was gonna punch him in the face. He’s 18 now. On his birthday, I got up, uh… I got up early. I set my alarm. And I went downstairs, and I made myself a good breakfast. And then I heard him getting up. And I go, here we go. It’s game time. My heart started racing. My hands got sweaty. Mom’s spaghetti. So dumb. Oh, God. Ahh… I started giving myself a pep talk. I was like, “You can punch him. He’s 18, you can do this. Because you did not spank him and these are all the spankings that he should have coming to him.” And then I heard him coming down the stairs. So I started walking towards the bottom of the staircase. And then he turned the corner. And I just saw a little boy walking towards me. And I was like, you can’t punch this little boy. But here’s what you can do. You can put a hockey helmet on him and hockey gloves. And then you can put those on as well and we can go in the backyard and we can locker box. So that’s what we did. And I kept hitting him in the shoulder. And he goes, “It doesn’t even hurt, what are you doing?” And I was like, “All right, just wait.” And in the third, he could not lift his hands up to protect his face. That’s old man knowledge. President style. After we locker boxed, I went inside, and I checked my social media and there were over 1,000 messages asking if I’d punched my son in the face. Happy birthday. That’s the kind of world we live in, I guess. So I replied to all these messages, I said, “Nah, I couldn’t punch him in the face. I didn’t think it’d be fair to him. So instead we went in the backyard and we locker boxed.” And then I put my phone away. And then 24 hours later, I checked and I had a message from a man in Little Rock, Arkansas, and he had replied back to me with a picture of Urban Dictionary’s definition of locker box. And I would like to tell you that it is not what I thought.
Urban Dictionary’s definition of locker box is when you’re having sex with someone, you also shove your nuts into them. I mean, where do you even start? Do people do that? And if so, how? How do you do that? The only thing I know about that sexual position is you probably need the lights on. That does not seem like a feel-around job to finish it. Oh my God. So anyways, I sent over 1,000 people a message from my home computer. That said “Nah, man, I didn’t punch him in the face. You know, ’cause that wouldn’t be fair. Instead, I brought him in the backyard. And I put my balls up there.” For, like, a week, I was nervous that the green light on my computer was gonna come on on the camera and it would just be the Feds, like, what else is going on over there?
All right. My son no longer lives with me. Not ’cause of locker boxing or whatever, but… He, uh, he went to one semester of college and didn’t like it. And, uh, I get that. I didn’t like college either. So that’s fair for me. But he also didn’t wanna get a job. And that’s where I drew the line ’cause I just, I just can’t. So, uh, I let him go through the holidays. We did all that stuff, hung out a lot. And then January 1st, you owe me $400 rent. And then, um, if you don’t have a job by February 1st, I’m going to kick you out. If you do have a job by February 1st, I’m gonna give you 200 of that 400 back, and we’re gonna call that a happy father rebate. And then if you have a job, the first of every month, you’re gonna pay me $200 rent for the rest of time until I kick you out permanently. And he goes, “200? What about 150 and I buy my own milk?” Who in the fuck drinks $50 worth of milk in a year? Are you having bone problems? What’s going on? That’s probably why he can’t find a job. He’s a horrible negotiator. We’ll give you $17 an hour. What about 16? And I’ll drive myself here. Well, you would be expected… 14! Okay, we’re no longer hiring.
The first month my son left, my electric bill went down $80. That’s a lot. Wanna know why? ‘Cause his hobby is leaving my lights on. It’s like a passion project for him. He wears a Fitbit around his wrist, and I bet you, he gets 10,000 steps a day just turning my goddamn lights on. All around the house. Boing, boing, boing, boing. “Ooh, that’s a lot of green, all right.” Boing, boing, boing. I know all my lights are on at all times because I live in a place where a lot of people like to hunt. Where my friends will get up early at 4:00 in the morning and they’ll drive out to hunt and they’ll go by my house. And then they’ll call me and say, “Hey, are you home?” I go, “No, why?” “Well, ’cause all your lights are on.” Well, which ones? Yeah, all of ’em. Porch to garage, buddy. Porch to garage. And you wanna know why they’re on? ‘Cause my son’s scared when he’s there by himself. That’s the only logical reason. He’s tough, I mean, he, like, wanted to live there, right? He didn’t live with, he doesn’t live with me full time at that point, you know? Because he loves me more than his mom, no. Because he wanted the freedom when I was on the road working. “I’m tough. I’m gonna live at my dad’s house. When he’s gone, it’s gonna be my house. ‘Cause I’m tough.” Until the wind blows a tree and the branch scratches the house. Boing, boing, boing, boing, boing! Just the steps. Brr… Operation Sunshine. And still runnin’ into walls.
I also have a 14-year-old daughter, and I gave her a chore list with three words on it, and she goes, “Where’s your chore list?” You ever had a kid say something to you and they’re serious but then you almost ruin it ’cause you laugh? That’s what I was almost like, “Oh God, what?” And I just go, “What did you say?” And she goes, “Where’s your chore…” She slowed it down, like, I didn’t… Like, I actually didn’t hear her, you know? So I said, “You know, everything that happens in this house to make this home operate. The three things I ask you to do and that is my chore list. Remember when you woke up in a bed, warm, and not hungry? Fuckin’ check, check, check! I did that shit.” I said, “My chore list also has three words on it, and it says ‘keep her alive.'” And it expires in four years so focus.
She’s 14 now. When she was 12, I started listening to podcasts about periods. And I know that seems creepy. I’m positive I’m on a list somewhere. But I never wanted to be the dad that had to send her to her mom to ask her all those questions. I don’t wanna, you know, like, “That’s a question for your mom. You know where to find me if you wanna play catch.” I mean, it’s, like, ridiculous, right? So… I, uh, I was listening to these podcasts, but I had to stop because one of them kind of creeped me out. It said “If you’re gonna show your daughter how to use a tampon, you push it into your hand.” And then, so, I was like well, yeah, my hand’s been a vagina. Okay, that makes sense. Sure. If you’re looking for a number you’re not gonna get it. Just know that it has been. But then I pictured myself pushing a tampon into my hand. And, oh, my God, it just looks like a magic trick. Does it not? Just, like, ay… Whoa… Ah-ha-ha-ha! Where’s the tampon?! You better find it ’cause toxic shock is real.
My daughter got her period in my house for the first time. And she came downstairs and she goes, “Uh, Dad, two things. Number one, got my period. Number two, don’t wanna talk about it.” And I was like, “Number one, great. Number two, greater.” And she said, “I have to go to Mom’s house ’cause she bought me some stuff.” And I said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the new legislation that was just passed but dads are now allowed to buy things.” They’re letting us out of the house. So I said come upstairs. And we went upstairs and I opened the closet next to the laundry room. And in there was one box of all of the each… I had all the kinds. All, every box that they make. Or at least that were at the store. ‘Cause I got there and I was like, “Oh, that’s different. All right, oh, that’s different, too.” And I got all of ’em. And that cost $217 where I live. And I said, “Whatever you need for this is gonna be in here.” ‘Cause that is every kind. They don’t make any more than that. If you need something that isn’t in there, sorry about your square vagina. And in that case, we are gonna have to call your mom. ‘Cause she’s way better at making appointments. And then she just goes, “God, you’re so dumb!” And she grabbed the box and goes, “It’s right here, I know what I need.” And then she left.
I don’t have anything to do so I brought back $211 worth of tampons. That is an interesting exchange. There were so many boxes left, and you can’t carry ’em in ’cause they’re all individual boxes. So I had to walk into Target, get an empty cart and just walk out with an empty cart. And people were like, is this bitch stealing a cart? What is going on? So then I loaded it up with all the tampons and I brought it back in. And I brought it to the exchange counter. And the guy goes, “You checkin’ out?” And I go, “Hmm, checkin’ in.” And he looked at my cart. And he looked at me and he just goes, “I mean, what happened?” That is a reasonable question. But I didn’t know I was gonna get asked. So I panicked and I just went, “Uh, she said pancake mix.” If we could get this done, everybody’s real hungry at the house.
In my opinion, it is harder raising a 14-year-old daughter and an 18-year-old son than when they were little, ’cause when they were little, I could give them all the same rules. I could sit them down on the couch and both of them, I could say, “Hey, don’t break anything. Don’t drink my chocolate milk. And go outside till it’s dark.” Right? And they’d go, “All right, Dad.” And that was it. But now I can’t do that. I have to give them individual rules, and it takes longer and I don’t like it. I don’t think… Well, I also don’t think it’s fair, right? I have to tell my daughter, “Oh, you’re going to a party? Okay, well, keep your water bottle close to you. And keep the cap on. And, uh, you know, don’t… If you’re gonna play hide-and-seek please don’t run into the woods with four boys even if they’re your friends, ’cause people could start talking and then that’s not gonna be great.” I don’t have to tell that to my son. “Hey, if you’re going to a party, please don’t run into the woods with four girls, ’cause people could start talking and then they’re gonna think you’re awesome.” It’s a really weird double standard that I don’t like.
I tell my daughter a ton of stuff when she leaves the house. You know what I tell my son? “Drive safe, don’t rape!” That’s it. That is it. That is every single thing I want him to know. And some of you might be like, “You can’t say rape, Chad.” Well, you sure can if you say “don’t” in front of it. Yeah, that’s, like, the number one time they want you saying it, I’m pretty sure. One time a guy after a show honestly asked me. He goes, “Why would you tell your son drive safe, don’t rape?” And I just was like, “I really did think that was self-explanatory.” But if you’re looking for an answer, here it is. I want him to arrive safely, and then when he does, to not rape anyone. I don’t think he’s going to, but it doesn’t hurt to remind people of big things. Drive safe. Don’t rape. That’s four words. They’re all one syllable. Sounds like a caveman. Drive safe, don’t rape! And that works well for 18-year-old boys, ’cause they are cavemen. “Drive safe, don’t rape!” “Me!” Yeah, you, buddy. You for sure. But everybody, everybody. “Him too!” Him too and me drive safe, don’t rape!” There you go! Good. Good. “Okay, Dad! Me got it! Fire good!” Yep, fire is good. “Fire good, rape bad!” Isaac smart. Isaac smart.
I’m gonna start saying that everywhere I go. I mean, not like a caveman, ’cause that would creep people out, of course. You can’t walk down the street, “Drive safe, don’t rape!” Everyone would be like, “Oh, he lost his chaperone.” I think it’s a good message. I think guys should say it to guys all the time. I don’t think there’s any harm in it. Plus, you’re gonna learn a lot about someone that you say it to… right? And here’s your change. Have a great day. Thank you so much. Don’t rape. “Why would you say don’t rape to me?” If that every happens to you, you are face to face with a rapist. ‘Cause why else would you freak out that much? I thought about it. If I was walking down the street and somebody goes, “Hey, man, don’t rape,” I’d be like, “Oh, my God, I was just thinking that. Thank you. You, too.”
I’ve also told my son that if he’s on a date and it’s not going well and he doesn’t want a second date, but the girl wants to kiss him at the end of that date, well, just don’t, ’cause that’s gonna be a real awkward situation later on. It’s gonna be awkward for sure in those five minutes. But that’s okay. That’s five minutes. You don’t wanna have that shit go on forever. And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you call Aziz. See what he thinks about it. That come out of the mic wrong? What happened? Aziz got in trouble. For having a bad date. He’s a famous comedian, for those of you that don’t know. And there was a girl that he went on a date with, and he wanted to have sex with that girl, and she wanted a famous boyfriend, and neither of that worked. There’s so much dumb on both sides of this story it is mind-blowing to me. For those of you that never read the article, here’s what happened. They got home from dinner. She sat on his kitchen counter, and then they both agreed that he was going to put his “this part” on her “this part.” Immediately when they got home. It’s like a kid hitting a ball at Little League and running right to third. I mean, yeah, it’s adorable, but there are rules here. Then they both agreed that she was going to put her “this part” on his “this part” two times. Gentlemen, I think we can all agree that no means no every single time. But what about “uh-huh”? Even then, for sure. But then, ladies, you also have to agree, that no one can hear you say no when you voluntarily put their dick in your mouth two times. In the article, she was quoted as saying, “He wasn’t getting my nonverbal cues.” Well, where I’m from, sucking a dick is not a good one. “I’m not having any fun! Nyah-nyah!” I mean, that is not how you call Uber. Everybody knows that. Everyone knows. It’s an app.
The reason I bring this up is because I think sometimes we shift the spotlight from where it needs to be, right? My daughter’s 14. I’d like to have this shit figured out in four years. We do, we shift it. The Me Too movement is super serious. Have you read some of the stories? They’re gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. And then there are some where it’s just like, “All right.” There’s a lady from Michigan who got her ass grabbed by President Bush, Sr. 27 years ago, and that was her “Me Too” story. And, like, you read the other ones, and you’re like, “How are you limping in with this bullshit?” He didn’t finger your asshole. And I want to be very, very clear about something. In no way am I blaming this woman, but I feel like all of us learn at a very young age to not stand in front of an old man for any reason at all. They are the grossest things… Not people, things… on the whole planet. It goes old men, monkeys, seaweed. Those are the top three grossest things on the whole planet Earth. Monkeys throw shit at you. Yeah, that’s an easy number two, I get it. Seaweed messes with you when you’re swimming. Buh-duh-luddle-uh! You don’t know what it is. You can’t see underwater. Old men do both of those things. An old man will throw shit up into the air so you look at it just so he can give you a wet willy. They’re the creepiest things ever. Have you swam with an old man? It’s always just like… Like their tits floating on top of the water. Like an oil spill. Like when you make a pancake. You know what I’m talking? How it spreads out? Just… I’d rather get eaten by a shark at that point.
Now, some people may think, “Chad, you just think this way ’cause you’re a man.” Well, that has to be part of it. My brain has been connected to a dick for quite a while. But I believe that all of our lenses are tinted from several different things. I was also raised by a very strong single mother, and so I watched her operate in different situations, and that’s what I learned. If my mom would’ve got her ass grabbed by anyone, doesn’t matter if it’s a president, she wouldn’t have went away for 27 years. She would’ve done one of two things immediately. She would’ve either turned around and said, “Do it again and I’m gonna break your hand.” Or she would’ve just yelled, “This piece of shit just grabbed my ass!” And… yeah. I don’t know if you know this, but that’s how you end a picnic. And my sister and I would’ve been just cowering in the car. Like, “Oh, man, we should clean the house when we get home, uh, you know, ’cause she’s pretty mad. Did you see what happened? I didn’t even see it. But there was an old guy, so probably him.”
I live in the same small town where I grew up, and nobody likes me from a long time ago. And I know that sounds sad, but it’s pretty freeing, ’cause I can say whatever I want and I’m not gonna lose friends. I’m there.
I was at a small cafe, and a woman was reading the article about the lady from Michigan, and she said, “Can you believe this?” And I said, “That they would waste that much ink on that? No, I can’t.” And then everyone turned their chair to look at both of us, like we were gonna locker box or something. And she said, “I will have you know a female American president would never grab an ass.” And I said, “Well, neither would a unicorn, ’cause neither of them exist.” You can get as mad as you want, but you can’t do an experiment with a group that doesn’t have any fuckin’ people in it. I thought she had it locked. She wears pantsuits on purpose. What a great presidential candidate. But 45% of people that look just like her said, “Eh, maybe next time.” You wanna know why? ‘Cause women don’t get along.
And I know there’s this movement. “Yes, we do.” But you don’t. You’re at the movement with a picket sign and you have the same one, you’re like, “Oh, fuck this!” I mean… it’s… Heh! And that’s sad to me, ’cause you’re easily the better of the two sexes. You should own everything, but you’re busy bickering your way to second place. It’s crazy to me! A man could punch a man in the face and have a beer with that same man five minutes later. A lady could hear some shit she maybe thought was about her and hate that bitch till she dies. It’s crazy, you guys. Why are you doing that? Here’s my theory. I feel like you don’t get along because you’ve been pit against one another since you were little kids. Right, you’re doing to school. “Oh, you better get all cute and get pigtails “so you can find a boy. You don’t wanna be an old maid.” Right, that’s crazy that you had to listen to that shit. How is the human species the only species where women have to look nice? Have you seen nature? Have you seen a beautiful peacock? That’s a dude. That’s a dude peacock! Just, “Ha ha! Look what I got!” You’ve ever seen a female peacock? Fucking gross. They’re like– They’re gray. They’re gray and just slothy. But they have a vagina, so they win the whole thing. Women, you should not ever have to put on makeup. You should be ale to walk into a bar and just go, “I’ll be in the car.” That’s bonkers.
I also think it would be nice if we could all have the same rules. Let’s make a big rule book that everybody agrees on. I think being an individual is amazing and what makes the planet great. However, everyone has their own rules. and you can’t get to know someone in a day for all their rules, right? So, I have a friend on Facebook, and she posted, “Am I ever going to be able to go to a bar by myself and not have a man ask if I’m okay?” And no is the answer. And that sucks, but it worked once. I don’t know when. Let’s say the ’40s There was a drinking a drink all by herself in the bar, and a man walked in and he goes, “Are you okay?” And then they had sex, and he told everyone he’d ever met. And that story’s been passed down from generation to generation. Little boys are walking home from their grandfather’s homes like, “Ask if she’s okay! Ask if she’s okay! Ask if she’s okay!” Because we’re simple creatures. We go with what works. In seventh grade, a teacher told me I look nice in sweaters. Well, here we are.
Well, some of you like me again. That’s good. Welcome back. Welcome back. I try to stay out of the rest of the politics because it’s… it’s too demanding, right? And I like to sleep, so… “Hey, Chad, did you hear about…” “No, I didn’t. Good night.” That’s like my new move. I do think politics divides us and makes us softer, because, I mean, people are so fake taken aback when it comes to every opinion. They’re like, “I don’t want my friend to think that I think this and they don’t think that, and everybody… Oh, my God!” I’m surprised we haven’t changed our national anthem to… . I know we’re getting soft as a country, ’cause one time I heard a guy go, “If I could just be half the man my father was.” Well, you are. That’s how genetics works. You’re also half the woman your mom was, and you’re acting like her now, so get your shit together. And I’ll tell you this, I don’t even like that joke. I just like to watch some of the women laugh and some of the women not laugh ’cause it proves you don’t get along! It’s crazy! It’s… I just said it, and you’re back on track already!
All right. I think we’re getting softer as a country. People say “sorry” all the time when they don’t need to. Right, you ever been bumped into and somebody goes, “Oh, sorry!” Yeah, for what? You just barely bumped into me. Have you been planning this for two weeks? ‘Cause then an apology is necessary. But this seems like an “excuse me” moment, right? Like, what are you gonna say when someone important to me dies? Like, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Same way like when you bumped into me? I went into Starbucks once. I go, “Hey, man, are you in line?” The guy goes, “Yeah, I am, sorry.” Yeah, for what? Getting here faster? So I stood right in front of him. And he goes, “Hey, man, I am in line.” I go, “Yeah, but you’re sorry, so… just tying to help with the guilt.”
My daughter says sorry nonstop. My daughter will say sorry three times for the same thing. And now you’re just being an asshole. Sorry once. You can’t keep doing it and think “sorry” is gonna get you off the hook.
So I have a swear jar in my house. That costs you a quarter. I have a sorry jar. That one costs you a dollar. What’s the lesson there? Call your dad a piece of shit. Just don’t apologize for it. ‘Cause that is a 400% markup.
My home is also filled with hyperbole because of my daughter. Everything is “the best” or “the worst.” Or “the funniest.” And can I tell you something? It never is. You know something’s gonna be real funny when someone laughs all the way through it, right? “Dad, you’re not gonna believe, It’s the funniest thing that ever happened to me! “Oh, my God, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life! Oh, my God, please, Dad!” Okay, let’s hear it. “There was a girl running through the hall, “and her shoe fell off, and it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life, oh, Dad, please!”
When either one of my kids tells me stories, my face must just glaze over. ‘Cause all I am thinking is how in the world do some people have sex with their own children? Does that make sense to anyone else in this room? How does a human brain allow that kind of shit to take place? I am so utterly turned off by both of my kids in every single way.
And by the way, if you’re not laughing right now, you’re the creepiest person in this room. ‘Cause that is easily as anti-kid-touching as it gets. I said, “How in the world…” You know, Earth, the world, the whole one… Do some people have sex with their own children, and some of you went, “Un-uh.”
I’m protected, Second Amendment. Everybody knows you can’t change an amendment, Chad, ’cause amend means… All right, hold on. That’s how I’m gonna start choosing hotels when I’m on the road. I’m gonna walk into a lobby and be like, “How in the world do some people have sex with their own children?” And if no one even looks up, I’ll be like, “Okay, cool, next hotel.”
Sometimes when I tell that story, someone will laugh so hard their shoulders will shake. And other times, someone won’t even smile. But on a magical night, those two people… are sitting right next to each other. And I get so excited about the idea of that uncomfortable ride home. “Hey, Erica, do you care if we stop by the gas station and get some Skittles?” “I don’t know, Patrick. Why don’t you go fuck a kid?!” You heard me say “Skittles,” right?
I know we’re getting soft as a nation, ’cause I travel all around it and I hear soft noises in comedy clubs. One time, I heard a grown man go, “Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho.” That’s crazy. If that is the noise your body chooses to make, stay home always and forever. ‘Cause no one likes you, for sure.
But the worst noise I’ve ever heard at a comedy show is this one: “Mm, I don’t, mm.” Man or woman, that is the twatiest noise that can come out of the human body. You should be able to karate chop that out of somebody’s throat. “Hey, man, how was your day?” “Mm, I don’t…” Thwap! I would rather hear choking than hear that noise. ‘Cause you know who makes that noise? It’s people that wake up every morning and think, “How could I be a victim today?”
And you know who I’m talking about. It’s people that don’t get enough attention at work, they don’t get enough attention at home. So they’re posting on social media posting all these vague-ass statuses. “Sure could use some prayers today.” Post. It’s like you can almost hear them typing it! “Mm, I don’t, mm, I don’t, mm, I don’t, mm, I don’t, mm, I don’t, mm, I don’t.” You have to be kidding me. Knock it off.
What do you need prayers for? Be specific. Everybody’s worried sick about you. There’s 150 comments, and they’re all some version of, “Mary, sending good vibes your way!” “Raising the roof with prayer!” Emoji! And four days later, Mary comes back, “Tomatoes weren’t as red as I’d hoped.” Well, fuck you, Mary! I hope you get lupus and everybody’s all prayed out. But your tomatoes are red, right? They’ll have antioxidants, won’t they, Mary? Best of luck to you, little girl that cried prayer.
How can we not test for the noise, “Mm, I don’t, mm”? We can test for almost anything in-utero, right? Let’s get one of those fancy ultrasound machines and figure it out. That’s your baby’s heartbeat. “Mm, I don’t, mm.” We should get that out of you immediately. ‘Cause nobody wants another one of those walking around town. And you do not wanna live with a third-grader that doesn’t want Oreos ’cause they’re made with hydrogenated oil! “Mm, I don’t, mm!” Fuckin’ die. Just die already.
When I hear the noise, “Mm, I don’t, mm”… I get ISIS. I get it! I understand starting a group to hurt other people. That makes sense to me. Does that mean I would join ISIS? Of course not. Would I scout for them? I don’t know, probably. “Hey, man, how was your salad?” “Mm, I don’t…” ISIS! Bweep bweep! I found one!
You don’t wanna mess with ISIS, man, they’re a crabby group. And we should have seen that coming, ’cause they are all caps. And, you guys, that’s yelling. How did we not know? I bet if you asked everybody in ISIS why they joined, over 40% would say traffic. Because traffic can turn a reasonable, rational human being into a murderous monster.
You ever been at a four-way stop, and it’s not your turn to go, but it’s the person in front you, it’s their turn to go? But they’re not going, they’re doing this: “Go, go, go, go, go, go, go! No, you. G-G-G-G-Go.” And you’re behind ’em like, “Fucking go!” “You have to go, or nobody’s ever gonna go.” There are rules in place for this situation! You’re not gonna get into heaven for letting somebody go first at a four-way stop! ‘Cause I’m gonna stab someone, and that shit’s going on your tab. Because, “Go, go, go… go, go, go,” is gonna lead to, “Gah gah! Gah gah gah gah!”
Listen, you guys, you cannot not be nice with someone else’s time. That is not how kindness works. If you want to be nice, join the Big Brother or the Big Sister program, and bring a kid to the movie. But on your way to the theater, fu-ckin’ go. You have to go!
Now, I want you to know, traffic is the only time I get real upset. That’s true. I’m a pretty laid-back guy. I love walking around and seeing other people get mad. I think that’s fun. Because I am a hypocrite and I like to judge others. And that makes me feel good. If I see a man yelling at his kids, I’m like, “Oh, I’m so much better than him.” And that gets me through my day, even though it’s not true.
My favorite kind of anger is self-produced anger. We’ve all seen that. Guy at the grocery store is holding the door. Somebody walks in, doesn’t say thank you, and the guy holding the door is like, “Welcome!” Oh, my God, has anyone ever needed to hear “drive safe, don’t rape” more than him? Like, ever? What does he think, everyone’s just at the gym, running on the treadmill, getting in shape, “Sure hope somebody holds the door at the store today! Cannot wait to say thank you!”
It’s crazy. People have other things going on in their lives, right? Even if it’s something as small as remembering your list when you’re walking through the parking lot. Just, milk, eggs, flour… “Welcome!” Okay. All right. Yeah, that was most likely for me. Were you holding the door? You were, right? Yeah! I was just trying to remember my list. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome!”
Nobody likes getting yelled at, especially in public. Nothing good has ever happened from that. A guy is never like, “Oh, I should take that guy fishing.” All right? It’s always something like, “Oh, I’d kill him for sure.” That’s why I admire psychopaths a little bit. I think psychopaths have figured some things out. I do. A psychopath thinks, “I’m gonna kill that guy.” And then they just kill ’em. And the rest of the day, they’re like, ♪ Dup duh duh da da ♪ They’re just so happy that their to-do list is done.
But a man that fears society’s rules, you can’t go killing people all willy-nilly. We’re actually like, “Oh, I wanna kill that guy. But, uh, eh, I’m already at the store. I should probably just get my stuff.” “Yeah, I’ll do that.” And then he goes in the store, but he hasn’t forgotten that he’s been yelled at, right? So ten minutes later, he’s walking around the frozen food section, just like, “Okay, hold on. What do you mean I’m welcome? Why am I welcome? You’re welcome. How ’bout that? You ever thought about that? How ’bout you be welcome?” “I just opened this freezer door. Didn’t need your help there, did I? No, man. I got doors all day! Fuck! Welcome!” And he strokes out, in the frozen food section. And he forgets his list, and goes home without milk, eggs, or flour. And his only job all week was to make his little daughter a birthday cake.
You assholes. I mean, seriously. Let’s review all the things we’ve talked about tonight. And cake just shut ya down, huh? We’ve talked about so many topics, you’re like, “Not the cake! Don’t you dare!” My God, you’re so nice. Stop… “The Lord is alive in Denver.” You weirdos. Just as a reminder, a man had just stroked out in a grocery store, and nobody had any problem with that at all. And then I mention a girl not getting cake and you’re like, “Oh, God, is there a bakery he could stop at? Stop at a bakery and get some cake? It’s her birthday.”
I need you to know something, when I wrote this story, I never even thought about that little girl for more than one second. I just needed something to do with those ingredients. So I picked cake, ’cause I like cake. This little girl is just supposed to go, “Hey, guys,” and leave the story, that’s it. She’s like one second in, one second out. And you guys are like, “Come here! We’ll get you some cake, come on! You come here right now!” That’s how we roll, Chad!
This story is about a man on the verge of a mental breakdown. I just picture this man in his kitchen, stirring an empty bowl with dead eyes. Still has his hospital bracelet on from the stroke. Just mumbling things like, “Hold the door for me? Hold the door for you.” “Didn’t need you to hold the door. It was an automatic door. You were waving at the camera. Now you don’t have to.” His father-in-law walks in the kitchen, “How’s the cake coming?” “Fucking welcome!” Like, loses his mind.
And a whole bunch of you were like, “Is there frosting at the house? Can we get this kid some frosting?” Which is crazy to me, because the point of this entire story is this. When a woman is breastfeeding a child, and the child is sick, that illness is in the child’s saliva. It enters the mother’s body through the areola, it travels around the mother’s body, the mother’s body fixes it. It puts it back in the milk, sends the cure out through the nipple, kid feels better. Our noses can categorize 50,000 smells. Our eyeballs can see 10 million different colors. That is the potential of the human body. And you can’t figure out a four-way stop?
I know I have had a lot of problems with humanity up here tonight. But I also want you to know I think I could be friends with almost anybody. I mean, the only group of people I can think of that I wouldn’t be friends with is if we’re walking down the street and we overhear somebody say “fingerbang,” and you don’t even giggle… then I don’t care to have you as a part of my life. What, we’re gonna go to your house and drink gin and do accounting? No, thank you. If you’re an adult and you hear “fingerbang” and you don’t even go, “Heh heh, okay,” like nothing? That creeps me out.
That’s why I like talking to really old people. Like 95 years or older, you can say whatever you want around them. They’re just glad you’re talking. You could say “fingerbang” in front of a 95-year-old woman and she’d be like, “I remember fingerbanging.” “I was fingered by Abraham Lincoln’s nephew!” “Also a tall man, huge hands.” “I remember he removed his riding glove, and it was like a fist full of dicks.” “It was thrilling! President Lincoln once said, ‘A house divided cannot stand.’ Well, neither could I.”
Dude, old people can say or do whatever. That’s how old men ended up as the creepiest things on the planet. I can’t wait to be that old. I cannot wait until my actions don’t have consequences. I’m not gonna throw shit at people or be weird when I’m swimming, but I still wanna have fun when comedy’s done. I don’t have hobbies, so I’m not gonna whittle recorders out of wood and bring them to middle schools. I’m just gonna sit at the bus stop, and then I’m gonna flick guys in the dick when they walk by. And I know comedy’s supposed to be smarter than that, but I don’t care, flicking dicks is really funny to me.
I’m just gonna sit at the bus stop with a big coat on, but my arms not in the sleeves. Then I’m gonna sneak attack out the zipper. Thwap! “What are you doing?” Doesn’t matter, I’m old. “Well, I’m gonna call the cops.” Go ahead, I need a ride home. They’re not gonna arrest an old man for flicking dicks, right? It’s probably not even in the book. “Hey, uh… we’re down at the, uh, bus stop, and we have a…” “We have a… There’s an old guy down here flicking dicks and… Dude, it is outrageous. I don’t know… He’s killing people. It’s crazy! I don’t know if his right shoulder is made up of only fast-twitch muscle fibers, but this guy is unreal. He’s beating younger men to their crotches, and my God, is it fun to watch. And you know my rule: If I laugh at something, I don’t make an arrest, so… I’m just gonna eat my lunch here and watch, over.”
Because dicks are not protected by the law. And I’m in no way saying they should be. I’m telling you straight up, they’re not. You flick a lady in the tit, well pack your shit, ’cause you’re going to jail. Right? As it should be. But you could curb-stomp a guy’s bare dick, in front of a cop, and the cop would be like, “It’s probably gonna be a stomach ache. Catch you guys later!” Nobody cares about dicks.
That’s why sometimes when I hear women go, “We want equality!” I always just wanna whisper, “Yeah, but not all of it.” “You don’t want the curb-stomping part. Just take the good stuff. Take the M&Ms out of the trail mix, leave the raisins.” ‘Cause you have equality across the board, and you get the good stuff, you’re gonna have to do things you don’t wanna do, like start calling your shots when you play pool.
Hold on. Hold on for one second. I saw some women react like I said you were bad at pool. Those words never came out of my mouth. I never said women are bad at pool, I said you’re cheaters. That’s different. It’s gonna be no more of this: “Oops, I made it in the wrong pocket, but I’m cute and you wanna fuck me, so it’s still my turn, still my turn, still my turn!” Uh-uh. That goes out the door with equal pay. Now you’re gonna have to buy your own drinks, and they’re $17.50 a piece. You didn’t even know that, did you? Yeah! Back of the line, yoga pants. It’s equality night.
If we have true equality between men and women, we’re gonna be able to fistfight in the middle of the street. And I can tell you, I don’t wanna live in a world like that. ‘Cause I would lose to upwards of 45% of women. Sounds like a high number, but let’s go through the groups.
White trash ladies, uh-huh. I’d lose to most of them. ‘Cause they’re tricky. They’ve had to get out of some tight spots by thinking on their feet. A white trash lady will say something like, “Look at my tits!” And when you do, they hit you with something real hard. Probably a glass ashtray.
You ever seen a kung fu movie? Little Asian girl skipping to school. Old Asian guy walks around the corner, “Your skipping is stupid,” and she floats up into the air and murders him with face kicks? You’re gonna have to factor in all little Asian girls to that. Every single one of ’em, ’cause you don’t know which ones can float. They don’t put stickers on ’em.
You’re going to have to factor in all black women and start removing their earrings as they’re moving towards you. Because I don’t care what martial art you’ve trained in, gentlemen, that’s gonna be a loss on your record. If you make a black woman so upset with you for whatever bullshit you’re doing, and she pulls her earring off and goes, “What?” Just go, “Nothing, nothing, nothing!” And you run. And you find shelter. And may I suggest a body of water.
Now… some of you are gonna be pretty surprised by this next part. Because a lot of you think I think black people don’t swim. And that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life. You can’t think an entire group of people doesn’t do one thing. That’s ridiculous and how bad stuff starts. I know black people swim. I’ve seen black people swim. What I have never seen, and no one has, is a black woman that just got her hair done get it wet on purpose. That has not happened since the beginning of time, and black people were the first people, they’ve had more time!
A black woman will follow you into a body of water, but just up to her hair. And then she’ll be like, “Uh, nope,” and back it on out. And then you’re just treading water in the lake. “Are you gonna leave?!” “I took the afternoon off to get my hair done. I have nowhere to be.”
I saw a black lady leave a hair salon one time. She looked up, it started raining on her hair, and she looked up into the sky, and she goes, “No!” And it stopped raining. So… you know. Still think Jesus is white?
I know I talk a lot of crap about my son up here. But I do want you to know that he’s a very respectful young man. And he is smart… like, too smart, maybe. And he has a very dry sense of humor. To the point where you don’t know if it’s a joke or if you’re gonna get murdered. Right, you wake up the next day and you’re like… “That’s funny, buddy! Good job, it’s a very funny joke! Oh, my God, I’m alive!” It’s like that kind of sense of humor.
We were walking down the street one day, it was my son and my daughter and I, and, uh, an Asian family was walking towards us. And there were seven of them. And none of them were higher… I don’t get it. “There were seven of them”? Is that like a weird thing to say? Agh, fuckin’ legalize pot.
Here’s what happens. You don’t have to say anything funny, you just present a fact and people are like, “Oh, my, whoa God! Dad, you’re not gonna believe what happened to me. Oh, my God, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.” We were walking towards an Asian family. There were seven of them. None of them were higher than my chest. Now… does that mean I think all Asian people are short? No, of course not. I know Asian people that are taller than me. I’m just telling you these are the facts of this particular story.
So the grandparents passed us, and then the parents passed us, and the children passed us. And my son slowed down, and he looked at me and he goes, “Do you think Godzilla was just a normal-sized lizard?” And my daughter said, “Isn’t that racist?” And I said, “We will figure that out when I’m done laughing.” ‘Cause sometimes, you just gotta let ‘er buck.
I brought my son to a comedy festival in Nebraska. It was Johnny Carson’s hometown. And I was always such a huge fan of Johnny Carson. I wanted to show my son some history, right? They have a museum there and everything. So we went there and we had a great time and the… Before the first show, we’re in the green room. It was me, a couple friends, my son. And then two comedians walked in that I had never met, so they didn’t know me and they certainly didn’t know my son. And so they thought he was a comedian. And they were like, “How old are you?” And he goes, “I’m 18.” They go, “Oh, you think you’re gonna go out there and wow the adult crowd with your 18-year-old humor? Yeah? Is that right? Is that what you’re gonna do? Sure, uh-huh. You gonna tell ’em about how you live with your parents?” And somebody whispered to me, they go, “Are you gonna help your son?” And I was like, “Nah, I sharpened the stick. I know how it pokes.”
So the guy was just giving it to my son. And he’s finally done, and my kid goes, “Yeah, thank you very much for that. I really appreciate the advice. Um, do you mind if I say something I like about your act?” And the guy goes, “Go for it.” He goes, “I really like how you smile at the end of your jokes to let people know they’re finished, since the punchlines don’t do the trick.” Everybody slowly looked at me, and I was just like, “Daddy raised you right!” So thrilled.
But that wasn’t even my favorite. At the end of the week, there was a former Miss Nebraska there. Just a lovely woman. She was like the town celebrity, so nice. And she invited us all to her home to have a buffet at the end of the week. And so we got there, it was my friend Joe, my friend Phil, my son, and myself, and we got there late, and there were no plates left. And Phil is from Canada. And I only tell you that to let you know that he doesn’t care about others.
So we walked in and there were no plates left at the buffet. And he… There were three plates on the kitchen wall, and Phil goes, “Can I use one of these?” And she goes, “No, you may not,” and he goes, “Why not?” And she started crying. And through tears, she told us this story about how her mom had left Europe with just 12 plates and the clothes on her back, and then she met the husband, and they had four kids, and they all got three plates, and all four of those kids had three children of their own, so they were all going to get one plate. And Phil goes, “Is that it?” And she goes, “Yes, it is.” And he goes, “Well, I’m hungry, I’m going to get food.” And he turned, but he had a backpack on. And it knocked a plate off of the wall, and it shattered. And the only thing you could hear in the kitchen was the clock ticking and this woman sobbing.
And my son goes, “God damn it, Phil, now she’s gonna have to kill one of her kids.” I mean, come on. This lady went from crying to laughing, and she goes, “Oh, I like you.” And my son goes, “Enough to let me pick which kid?” Dude’s like a superhero who doesn’t know how to use his powers yet. “I’m flying! Is that a wall?” Smash!
Thank you guys very much! I appreciate you coming to the show! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you. You guys are the best! Thank you very much. Hang tight. Hang tight. I wanna tell you one more story. You can sit back down if you would like. One more! What a… what a weird way to ruin a standing ovation.
When I was starting comedy, uh, I had zero money. And so my son was about to be born, and so I called this booking agent and I go, “Hey, man, is there any way you can get me any work at all? I just really need to make some money.” And he goes, “How about this week?” And I go, “Ah, that’s not gonna work, ’cause that is the week my son is going to be born, and I need to be around for that.” And he goes, “Well, good luck, because children ruin comedy careers.”
So I would like to introduce you to two people that beg to differ. This is my son Isaac. My daughter Olivia. Wow, it’s loud. Pretty good, huh? Yeah. Do you, uh, have anything to say? Just wanted to let you all know that, uh, I start my job on Monday. Anything? Anyone bring their passport? Ahh… Uh, kids do not ruin comedy careers. Uh, they make them. But more importantly, these two have just made my life a million times better, so, uh, I just wanted to tell you guys that, because I know I pick on them a lot. But they are the best. And thank you guys very much.
♪ Were you scared when you heard me scream ♪ ♪ Must be wrong if I let you leave ♪ ♪ Would you get dressed up ♪ ♪ Would you steal a name ♪ ♪ You never let us know ♪ ♪ Or care ♪ ♪ Or see me again ♪ ♪ This love can never be ♪ ♪ You’re burning as a flame ♪ ♪ You’re coming for death ♪ ♪ No need for games when you aim to cheat ♪ ♪ Let’s play fair and not compete ♪ ♪ Would you let me know ♪ ♪ That you hold my hand ♪ ♪ Would you pull me close ♪ ♪ Or wish me dead… ♪♪
