Jim Norton: Monster Rain (2007) – Transcript

His special "Monster Rain," Jim Norton performs outrageous material, covering territory involving current affairs, celebrities, racism, and then, finally, lots and lots of sex.
Jim Norton: Monster Rain (2007)

Thank you! Aw, thank you very much. Thank you, guys. Man, that was nice. Thank you so much for coming here tonight. Thank you all for risking your lives and coming to this neighborhood. Jesus Christ! If I do another special, maybe I can get a theatre in Fallujah. It’s so nice.

I had a great thing happen this week. I was out with my girlfriend’s family… who I did not want to be out with… and I found a wonderful way to end the evening early. When it gets really quiet at the table, you just blurt out “boy, I sure would love to fuck that Dakota Fanning!” But don’t be creepy about it. After you say it, just make this face.

I got a text from my girlfriend. I did not bring her with me. She’s back at my apartment in New York, and as I’m coming tonight for the gig, she sends me a text that says, “you know, you’re out of toilet paper.” And I’m thinking, “all right. Did she happen to notice, or is there a situation?” And I don’t want to think about that. You never want to think about your girlfriend, you know, beading up sweat on her forehead, turtling. So I ignore it. A minute later, I get another text… “what am I supposed to do?” I don’t know. A handstand in the shower. Jesus Christ! What do you want me to tell you? Grab a sock, learn to improv already. You’re 15 years old!

And I got to be honest, man, I like having a girlfriend! I was single for so long… 5 years… and I like being in a relationship, and there’s little weird things to get used to. Like after sex, as we’re laying there, I have to keep repeating to myself, “do not hand her cash. Do not hand her cash.” Which is still a nice improvement over last year, when it was, “ignore the Adam’s apple. Ignore the Adam’s apple.” We’ve all made that mistake, haven’t we? Ha ha ha! You’re receiving an amazing blow job. All of a sudden, you’re like, “wow! That’s a wide back for a gal.” Well, now you’re at a crossroads because this is technically a homosexual act. Yet on the other hand, this fella sure knows his business. What do you do? I mean, instinctively, you understand there’s a no refund policy, so I tend to just laugh good-naturedly at myself and then blast a load right in his face.

And ever since this relationship has been happening, I’ve been trying to, like, fix up my place a little bit because my apartment right now is very male-orientated. It’s geared for me. Like, all I have is, like, signed black sabbath shit on the walls, like, photos of me and Ozzy and me and Kiss. It’s like my girlfriend comes over, and she feels like she’s dating a 12-year-old retard. But I don’t know what to buy that she would like. I’m an idiot. I don’t know what women want. I would just hang up giant photos of dicks. “You like that, you size queen?”

So I enlisted the help of my gay friend because gay people have so much of a better vibe for a woman’s sensibility than straight men do, but gay people are very arrogant. Like, I took my friend, furniture shopping, and he’s a gay comic, and I found this sofa that I love, so I call him over. I’m like, “what do you think?” And he’s so condescending. He runs his hand over the back, and he’s like, “eeeechhh! You idiot, the material’s too rough.” Then I realize we had different priorities when sofa shopping. When I’m buying one, I don’t have to wonder what it’s going to feel like mushed into my face for an hour at a time. To feel like mushed into my face for an hour at a time. He has to worry about that… Because he has narcolepsy. He tends to doze off while he’s getting poked in the shitter.

But I’m not homophobic, I guess, because I’ve been such a pervert for so long. Like, I’ve been sexually active since I was in second grade, and, you know, growing up I didn’t give a shit. I played monster rain when I was a kid, which I told… I did tell that story on the radio, and it was a fun little game. Miss, you look a little confused. Are you not familiar with it? You never heard of monster rain? It’s the most adorable thing! And it’s true, too. When I was very young, my little friend and I would walk along, and one of us would yell, “monster rain!” And then to get away from the monster rain, we’d hide under a porch and blow each other. A porch and blow each other. That’s how we escaped the monster rain. In hindsight, an umbrella would have been more prudent. And it wasn’t about being gay, though. It was just about feeling somebody’s mouth on your dick, and the key… Again, second grade. It was about getting your friend to go first because, like, the key… Because there’s no subtlety when you’re that young. Like, if my friend would blow me and then go “my turn!” You know, I’d be like, “I got to go eat lunch!” And leave him under the porch with his shame and dick breath. Then I’d rat him out to the whole neighborhood. “He’s a queerbait. He licked my dingle.” But I think gay men are fascinating, though, because I heard they do this thing called “docking.” All right. A couple people have heard of this. Docking supposedly is when two guys will stand face to face and put their dick heads together, and one of the guys has to be uncircumcised… – Ha ha ha! And the uncircumcised guy peels his foreskin over the head of the other guy’s penis, and that’s where I bailed out of the conversation. But I am so mad at myself. I really wish I had stuck with it because I’m dying to know what happens next? What do you do? Do you say anything to each other, or do you just look at each other and laugh hysterically? I’m actually jealous. That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of that gay guys can refuel in mid air. And I did my first midwestern gigs…

I was in Kansas City actually at the same time that that, hurricane, torna… What was it? Tornado… whatever, whatever. Hillbilly mover. Merciful wind from a knowledgeable god. And I spent some time down south. I went to Dallas, which was really cool. When I was down there, I went to see where JFK was shot at Dealey Plaza. Has anybody made the trip, made that pilgrimage down there? It’s kind of awe inspiring, right? It’s, it’s smaller than I thought it would be. And the only difference between that day and today is the stemmons freeway sign, which he disappeared behind, has been taken away, and where he took the third and final shot, a big white “x” has been painted in the street so you know exactly where it happened. Um, at least I hope that was put there after the assassination because… If that was there the day of, that’s sloppy police work. “Oswald didn’t act alone. He had a Puerto Rican kid with him.” But there’s an “x,” and what people will do is when traffic is stopped up at the light, they run out into the street, they stand on the “x,” and they get their photos taken, and you’re watching this like, “you voyeuristic, morbid piece of shit.” Until it’s your turn to have your photo taken. You try to look dignified.

I didn’t care. I fucked around. I didn’t care. I fucked around. I even did a little Jackie. But after I came off the “x,” this annoying, awful couple was behind me, and they had been snipping at each other the whole time, and so the awful woman runs out, and she’s standing there, and she’s just yelling at her stupid husband, and this nervous fruit is trying to operate his camera, and a car is headed towards her, and she doesn’t see it, so I go, “let it happen.” I saw the greatest story of my life about to unfold, and stupid, pussy-whipped husband warned her, and as he warned her, you could see him regretting it because he’s like, “get out of the way!” But in his face he was like, “why the fuck am I saying this?” How funny would that have been? Two people in history killed on that spot… Jfk and that bitch. And I actually lived out in Los Angeles for a little while when I was out there shooting “lucky Louie.” I thank those of you that supported “lucky Louie.” Despite my fucking muggy acting. “Where are you, Lou?” Jesus Christ. And I think we deserved season two. Unfortunately, we got cancelled, but that happens. Um, what bothers more is not the fact that we got cancelled. It’s the fact that we got cancelled and you can still turn on 8 different channels and watch poker. Enough with the poker obsession in this country. My fat friend is obsessed with it. He’s like, “dude, you want to play hold ’em? Let’s play hold ’em!” All “all right. How about this? “I’ll pull out my balls. Hold ’em with your mouth.” And it kind of bugs me because to me they’re not showing gamblers. Like, I’m a recovering alcoholic and a recovering addict. I understand the mania of obsession. You know, if one is good, 50 is better! I mean, I cannot stop ever. So show me that type of gambler. Don’t show me the top one one thousandth of a percent of rich gamblers. Show me the average schlub. “Tune in next week to watch Doyle brunson punch his wife “in the face because she’s crying because the lights are turned off again.” Because I don’t think those guys are playing for their own money anyway because they’re all celebrities now, so they’re playing for sponsor money or network money. To me, that’s not interesting. How about a little risk? That would make it more interesting to me as a viewer. Like, if they win they keep the money, but if they lose they have to drink gas or blow an aids patient. A bit harsh, perhaps, but let’s see your poker face now, motherfucker. Now, motherfucker. “Well, judging by the looks of things, if he doesn’t pull a 5 or a 7, he’s going to be losing weight rapidly.”

And I actually… I actually enjoyed L.A. more than I ever have. I kind of like it out there now, um, but I had a very bad injury. A lot of people have heard me complain about my foot. Um, I twisted my ankle horribly. What actually happened is I was in a building in Los Angeles that was burning, and I was trying to run out, of course, because, you know, nobody one wants to lose their lips and eyelashes. Jesus Christ. God bless burn victims. They always look like they walked into their own surprise party. Little tuft of hair. If it’s any consolation, I don’t really feel good about that line either. So I’m in this building, and I’m running for the front door, and I tripped over a small, um, kid, who had fallen. Totally his fault. You know how selfish children are. “Help me!” “Fuck you!” And now I got to get surgery. Um, I could have avoided surgery if I had just put some insoles in that were supportive, but did you ever remember the commercial for a product and the commercial is so awful you don’t want to support that advertising through product purchase? That “you gellin’?” Ad campaign… I want to find who wrote that. I want to bite their nose off and spit it back in their fuckin’ face. If you haven’t seen the commercial, in the commercial there’s been a bit of a Fender bender, and the two gentlemen are outside surveying the damage, and they realize they’re in a better mood than they should be considering they’ve had a little accident and there’s a 10-year-old trapped in between the bumpers. And they intuitively recognize that their good mood can be directly attributed to their comfy footwear! So they address each other. The one guy goes “you gellin’?” And the other guy goes “like Magellan.” And then they suck each other’s dicks. And then they suck each other’s dicks. Gellin’ is in the word Magellan. That’s not a real rhyme. “How long you been tired?” “Ever since I retired” is not a legitimate rhyme scheme. They could have had fun with that! One of the gentlemen was African-American. How great would that have been? “You gellin’?” “Like a watermelon.” Maybe a prostitute walks in and says to her pimp, “you gellin’?” And he knocks her teeth out. “Bitch, get back to pussy sellin’!”

Thank you, by the way, for laughing at the racially inappropriate one. Why do white people have such a guilt complex? We don’t need to feel guilty. Most of us don’t need to feel guilty. If you’re over 70 and you live in Mississippi, ok. Chances are, you owe a few apologies, but a lot of times, we don’t even realize we have it until we see another white person doing something racist, and then we all react a certain way because it taps into something in us. Like, Michael Richards. That was the greatest thing ever because this fucking asshole goes onstage in Los Angeles and yells all this shit that most people only think or yell out a car window, and the whole country is in an outrage. “Could you believe what he said?” “Yeah.” Why? Because I don’t’ take my social or racial cues from him. He’s not a politician. He’s not my spiritual advisor. He’s a jerk-off who made a living for 10 years sliding on a floor going “hellooo, Jerry.” I don’t give a fuck about anything he thinks. And the fact that imus got fired is a fucking disgrace. It’s a fucking disgrace. – But everybody knew he didn’t mean it to be hateful. He was only trying to make an ugly joke about a bunch of girls, and people turned it around. Are we not allowed to make fucking ugly jokes anymore? Look. I hate to break it to you, but the rutgers female basketball team… They’re not lookers. They’re not lookers. That’s one reason they’re so good at what they do. They had to practice in high school. You know, it’s like, “well, it’s a Saturday night. “We’re all 6’5″, and no one will fuck us. What do you want to do?” “I don’t know. Let’s throw the ball around for a little while.” Why do you think I’m a comedian? Because I got pussy all the time? No!

And I love the way politicians have to weigh in. Like Hillary Clinton, who never takes a stand until the public has decided, was gonna go and visit the team to help the healing begin. Does this phony bitch had to get her mullet into the middle of everything? Of everything? With her phony voice inflection. “I want to go and help everybody heal.” Shut up, puppet mouth. What was she gonna say to a bunch of athletes? “You know, it’s ironic that you all play basketball, yet I have thicker calves and ankles than all of you.” Or maybe she was worried. She thought her husband fucked a couple of them. Maybe that was the problem. When are women going to stop looking at Hillary Clinton like she’s the picture of strength and feminism. Why? All she did is stay with a guy who fucked everybody. He was rubbing his dick on a fat girl’s face. “I didn’t see it. It didn’t happen.” What really bothered me though, it wasn’t the fact that politicians came out against it… because they are all scumbags, and that’s what you expect them to do. It was the fact the way the rest of the country jumped on that bandwagon. The phony outrage around imus made me sick. Hip-hop was outraged! Rappers. Snoop! Snoop! Not the adorable one who lays on the doghouse with the little bird on him. No. The other one with the gun charges. Snoop said it was degrading to black women, as opposed to when he walks them into awards shows on a leash. When he walks them into awards shows on a leash. And somebody asked snoop, “well, what about rap lyrics?” And snoop said, and I quote, “well, it’s different in rap “because we’re not talking about girls in college who are “excelling in sports. “We’re talking about hos from the neighborhood who ain’t doing shit but trying to get a n i g g e r for his money.” Well said.

And you know the number two hip-hop song in the country when the Imus thing happened was “I’m a flirt” by R. Kelly, and in it, he calls girls hos, and we all remember the friendly little video he put out a few years ago. “There’s no toilet available. Come here, kid. You’ll do.”

Whoopi Goldberg really annoyed me. It’s like, Whoopi, you’re a comedian. Why they fuck would you be against anyone saying anything? Especially racial when she had her whole thing with Ted Danson. Remember the Ted Danson incident a few years ago? 15 years ago, whatever? They were dating. I really am an asshole who should have read the facts before I started pontificating like a fucking bore. But her and Ted Danson were getting all this racism for their relationship, so to address the racism, at a friar’s club thing, Ted Danson put on blackface and ate watermelon, and the whole country jumped on him, and Whoopi jumped to his defense saying, “no. He’s not a racist. He was just doing this and that.” Why is it ok to defend Ted Danson and not Imus? Why? Because Imus is a little older and he’s not good-looking and crazy enough to fuck Whoopi? I don’t know how she pulled off… I don’t know how she pulled off Ted Danson. Maybe she had photos of him fucking blowing Norm or somebody else from that show.

People love being offended and feeling self-righteous indignation. It’s like if you talk about Islam. You can’t make fun of Islam because that makes you Islamophobic, which is fear of Islam. Ok. Accurate. Look. I don’t hate Muslims. I really don’t, but as a group, their problem-handling skills are not good. A Danish cartoonist did an offensive cartoon. All over the middle east, they were rioting and trampling each other to death and setting embassies on fire. Don’t Muslims ever just fire off an angry e-mail? “I didn’t appreciate that.” Send!

And during the riots… during the riots, I saw some footage from Pakistan, which really hurt because it’s my favorite vacation spot, and there was a group of very pissed off Muslims attacking a McDonald’s, and they said they were attacking it because it was American.

Look. I understood why they were mad at America. A Danish cartoonist did something offensive, it was reprinted in France, Germany, and Turkey, so naturally it’s our fault! But they were attacking… You know the creepy Ronald that sits on the bench and stares into the playland? They had knocked him into the dirt, and they were stomping on him, you know, because he’s a Jew. And they were staring defiantly into the camera. Like we, as Americans, are gonna sit home going, “no. “Not the shiny, red-headed, plastic pedophile, who sits “outside the restaurant that makes me shit 3 minutes “after I eat it. Noooo!” What are they gonna do next? Cut the clit off the Wendy’s girl?

Look. Every religion gets attacked somehow in the media. It’s not acceptable to react violently. Not long after those riots, kanye west appeared on the cover of “rolling stone” wearing a crown of thorns, and that offended and pissed off a lot of people. It didn’t bother me. I knew why he was doing it. Like, he’s a rapper, they’re underpaid, they’re martyrs. I get it. But there was a lot of very, very angry christians, but they weren’t showing violence, they weren’t attacking black interests, you know, running through supermarkets, dumping kool-aid all over the floor. Beating the shit out of 300-pound white girls who are pissed off at their fathers. Pissed off at their fathers. I will say one thing about islamic terrorism. It has made white people and black people a lot happier to see each other in the airports. I do not have one ounce of racial discomfort with black people on a plane. I don’t care if I’m the only white face. It could be me and the wu-tang clan. “Welcome aboard, fellas.” Granted, I’m not going to hear a word of the in-flight movie… But at least I know we’re going to have a safe, hijacking-free flight. Then once we land, they can beat the shit out of me and take my starter jacket at baggage claim.

And, like, as Americans, we don’t want to be racist. I don’t want to make middle eastern guys who are just living honest lives feel uncomfortable, but it’s instinctive because the attacks are being carried out by civilians, so if I see middle eastern guys getting on my flight, I wish I didn’t, but I look a little… a little differently. Um, you know, I try to look like I’m an air marshal… But I’m not at all intimidating, so I look like I’m cruising them in a rest area. For a while, you couldn’t bring water on the flight. That is scary… water! All I want on a plane is to not hit a mountain and sip my beverage. Why water? Why couldn’t they put bombs inside a crying infant? How great would that be? Finally, no more of those little douchebags on the plane. “That’s my baby.” Fuck you, lady. Anyone under 5 has to be fedexed. I’m not blowing up in mid-air because your husband didn’t have the decency to pull out and aim for your face. I tell you one thing, man, we really are becoming a celebrity-obsessed country, and the media is just repulsive, and I’m not saying I don’t get star-struck or I don’t love celebrities. I do. I love them, but, Jesus Christ, the way they covered the Virginia tech shooting is the same way they covered imus. It’s the same way they covered Anna Nicole Smith’s death. Are we ok to talk about that now? Are we over it? I had to take a week off myself. Could you believe it was drugs? Did we need a fucking press conference for that? They should have come out an hour later. “What the fuck do you think it was? “It was as plane crash. “She died in a plane crash. Her plane hit a mountain of methamphetamines.” Jesus Christ. That junkie bitch, they found everything in her system but trimspa.

You know, and the Britney Spears coverage. She’s so fucking phony. And I don’t hate Britney. Again, I started to like her when she tried to look like me. I don’t think she’s in big trouble. I think she’s being phony and just doing the whole “star with a problem” routine to get some attention because nobody’s talking about her anymore. Nobody talks about fucking her. Nobody cares. I mean, for years she was really sexy, and now people just look at her like she’s a mom and not like a sexy milf type of mother but a shitty Susan Smith type of bitch. I mean, Jesus Christ. At least Angelina Jolie goes to some third world shitbox and grabs some fucking thing and puts it on her shoulder and washes it and waves at the crowd. And makes us all feel guilty. We get it. You’re a better person than we are. We get it. But, Jesus Christ, Britney had her own kids. She’s swinging on by the cock, the other one’s on the hood of the car. She’s doing 80. Jesus Christ. K-fed was no dummy because he got Britney pregnant twice. You know every time he fucked her he probably just came and went,” cha-ching. Cha-ching.” He probably didn’t waste a load in 3 years. She’d go on the road, he’d jerk off into a baggie, and then when she came back, he’d squeeze it into her pussy like space food. She’d wake up, he’d be between her legs decorating a cake.

And I don’t mind her trying to recapture her sexy image. That doesn’t bother me. It’s the way she’s being dishonest about it. Just pose naked. Don’t try to hang out with Paris Hilton and suck off some of that vibe without taking the risk of being really nude because Paris Hilton deserves to be a sex symbol because she had sex, had the decency to film it and sell it, and I appreciate that. I respect that, even though it was that awful green light that they use to catch Mexicans sneaking into Texas. But she was a good lay. That should be a requirement to be a sex symbol in this day and age. We should have to see you fuck. Who knows what Marilyn Monroe was like? She might have been awful. She might have grabbed DiMaggio’s balls and just smashed them like, “arrrwww.” Paris Hilton was wonderful. She took Rick Salomon’s big old dick with a big Hilton “h” behind her… How do you not love that… Shaming mother and father. I would have respected her more if she did it in a ramada inn. That would have been a great fuck you to the family. Mmwww, mmwwww. “And these beds are so comfy!” Mmwww, mmwww. But you see, Britney Spears tried to take a page out of that playbook by doing the little oopsie shots when she got out of the limo. “Oopsie Daisy. Don’t look up my skirt. Tee hee hee. Don’t look!” And her pussy was the ugliest pussy I have ever seen in my life. Britney Spears’ vagina was atrocious. It looked like bill Murray’s mouth in caddyshack.

And another thing I resent is the fact that Heather Mills is somehow now a celebrity in our country, Paul McCartney’s soon-to-be ex-wife. Why is she a celebrity? I don’t know what happened in their marriage. I’m not going to say I do, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s her fault. Bitch, you have one leg, and you married one of the Beatles. How do you fuck that up? Every conversation in that house should have been, “I’m a little hungry, love.” “Here’s your sandwich.” Blla, blla, blla, blla. Hop, hop, hop, hop, hop. Hop, hop, hop, hop, hop. “We’re out of toilet paper, love.” “Are we?” Blla, blla, blla, blla. Hop, hop, hop. She wants $60 million? That bitch. She should leave that marriage with nothing but a bag of pristine left shoes. I’d love to push her into a pool and watch her swim in circles for an hour and a half. Why would he marry her? You want to fuck her doggie style, you got to prop her up with phone books. Aw, you know who I have grown to love by the way? Can I tell you who I never liked and like now? Ann coulter. I never liked her because I think she’s kind of a snotty twat of a human being, but she has balls, man. She refused to apologize. She called John Edwards a faggot, and the whole country was, you know, “how could she call John Edwards a faggot?” Gee. I don’t know. Maybe she looked at him once? The guy has hair like one of the lego people. And to me, he proved the fact that he wasn’t qualified to be president or anything else because he couldn’t even be honest as a man in his response to what she said. He came off like some fucking mid-level retail manager. “I have no opinion on Ann coulter.” How could you not? She just told the whole country that you suck dicks. How do you not make fun of Ann coulter? She’s an 80-pound anorexic with witch hair and a neck like a tranny. How do you not trash her? Ooh! Would I like to dominate that dirty bitch sexually. I would be really fucking hardcore with her because I am very dominant in bed. Yeah. A lot of people say it’s rape. No. No. At the end, I always show them that the gun is fake. I’m like,” “you got me. Tee hee hee hee hee!” I would like to grab Ann coulter by the hair and just lay her back and have her head hang over the edge of the bed and pinch her nose, and when she went… I would just straddle her face and mouth-fuck her. Ughhh. Uhhhn. She would sound like Luca brasi being killed. “Ohhhhh!” Tears would roll out over the top of her forehead and into her hair. “Ughhh!”

Jesus Christ. Now you can’t even say faggot. That’s the f-word. “Don’t say the f-word. Don’t say the n-word. Don’t say the c-word.” How the hell is anyone supposed to know when you’re addressing them? And it’s so weird. Like, I have to pull back. My girlfriend’s really open-minded, but I panic that I’m gonna freak her out because I have been such a dirtbag for so long. Like, you ever think you know what somebody wants sexually, and then you realize that you read her wrong? You know what I mean? You’re like, “I bet you want to be spanked.” “I don’t like being spanked.” “I don’t blame you.” “Why would you? You’re an adult.” Or the worst, you ever go to spank somebody and miss? Sexy vibe over. Like instead of a crispy slap to the ass cheek, your wrist clumsily thuds on her spine? Thwack! My cyst! Now you got to wipe tapioca off the wall. But I notice weird stuff in bed, too. It’s weird when you get to know a new person sexually, how, like, your mind works really weird. Like, you ever notice non-sexual things in a sexual moment? Like, my girlfriend and I were in bed. I’m laying on my back trying to suck in my stupid gut, and she’s sitting between my legs, and she’s playing with me. Sexy though. I mean, it wasn’t like “errrrhhh. And I don’t know why I noticed that she was jerking me off with her left hand. I don’t know why that registered, and I certainly don’t know why I blurted out “you’re a lefty?” I get so freaked out sexually, man. That’s the source of my greatest insecurity, and I think that’s the truth with most men. Maybe women, too. I don’t know. Um, how much discussion of a person’s past sexual history is appropriate? I mean, like, you know, are guys as a couple? All right. Did you ask her questions about her past sexually? No. You didn’t. Ok. There’s two types of men in the world… Smart men… And dumb motherfuckers. That’s the way to go. Don’t ask shit. See, a lot of guys don’t want to know. They want to think the panties are coming off. That is the pussy coming out of the package for the very first time. You want to blow on it and see those little packing peanuts fly off of it, and I actually made the mistake of asking my girlfriend how big her ex-boyfriend’s dick was. Check ethnicity first. I don’t know why I asked, man. It was so stupid. We’re just talking. I’m like, “well, did your ex have a big dick?” And she goes “why would you ask me that?” Which immediately set off a little alarm because that’s a lot longer than “no.” I’m like, “I don’t know. I’m just curious. Was his dick big?” And she’s like, “yeeaah, but it was kind of uncomfortable. It was like a Pepsi can.” A Pepsi can? “First of all, did you have to be brand loyal? “And second of all, you whore! “How was that only kind of uncomfortable? If there’s a Pepsi can in your pussy, it should hurt a lot!” And she’s like, “well, I don’t know why it bothers you.” Gee, I don’t know, because my nickname isn’t two-liter Jimmy! How do I follow that? How do I ever dominate her sexually again. “Yeah, take it all, and 5 more like it while you’re at it. Lay back, baby. I’m going to fill you with averageness and mediocrity.” A Pepsi can! Red bull I maybe could have accepted, but Pepsi? And the better she tried to make me feel, the more I wanted to kill myself because she was like,” you shouldn’t worry. Yours is nice.” Ughhhh. So’s my grandmother. You don’t want her shoved in your snatch do, you? Nice? Good. The next time I take my dick out, hand it a lemon cookie and pat it on the helmet.

Insecurity is so bad sexually because we’ve also got this thing going on… she knows a lot about me, and we both… I’m wearing condoms in this relationship. I’m wearing condoms in the relationship, and it’s not my choice, believe me. I mean, for years, my idea of an AIDS test was to check a girl up and down. “All right. You seem fine. You’re not coughing or tipping over, I’ll fuck you.” But my girlfriend was like, “no. Before we have any “unprotected sex, we are both getting tested. You get tested. I’ll get tested, too.” It’s like stop patronizing me. We both know who the problem is. “Why are you getting tested? “Did you ever go to Brazil and fuck a hooker “without a rubber? I didn’t think so rookie. Have jell-o. I’ll go to the doctor.” Never bring your girlfriend to get your test results because no girl wants to see her boyfriend run out of the doctor’s office screaming, “holy shit! I’m ok! “I don’t know how the fuck that happened. “Statistically, that is a miracle. “I never wore a bag. Ha ha ha ha!”

What happened was one night we were sending each other over-the-top dirty text messages, just being silly and playful, like rally dirty things like, “I’m gonna smack your face with my dick and knock your teeth loose.” She wrote that to me! And I think I said something about, like, “I want you to eat my ass until the cows come home, you silly goose.” And I’ve never been big on having my ass eaten. I don’t care about it. Um, if you want to do it, god bless you. It does feel good. Any of you, by the way, male or female, would be lucky to Bury your face in my dumper. It’s this big. There’s not a hair on the little fella. It looks like Charlie Brown’s head split down the middle. And one girl I dated loved to eat my ass. She was a little submissive. I’d put her on her back, and I’d plop my ass on her mouth. I’d say something sexy… “lick.” But one time, I think I had too much weight on her because she started slapping my thigh. It was like the ultimate fighting championship. She was trying to tap out. I didn’t realize she couldn’t breathe! I lifted up, and she was like… I almost killed a girl with my asshole! And I had very mixed feelings. Like, I was glad she was ok, but a part of me was like, “man, that would have been a great story.”

So my girlfriend said to me… We were talking later that night about the text messages, and she goes, “you know the ass eating thing?” I was like, “yeah.” And she’s like, “I would never eat your ass until you got tested for hepatitis.” And it’s like, Jesus Christ, I understand the science of it, but you know I don’t have AIDS, gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia. So it’s like the front is ok, but the back needs further testing? It just felt really annoying and creepy, so now I am obsessed with her eating my ass, and I got tested for hepatitis. I have nothing. I am completely healthy, you know, thanks to the magic of white-out. The way I’m going to break it to her is she’s gonna walk into my living room one time. I’m gonna have my pants around my ankles and my head on the edge of the sofa with my test results taped to my back. “Read the menu, bitch. Brunch is served.”

And we try not to have jealousy in the relationship because jealousy is a motherfucker in a relationship, and I have it worse than she does, but I’ll tell you what freaked her out… the porn awards. And the highlight of the porn awards for me was not seeing the hot chicks. It was meeting different celebrities like Larry flynt. I got to talk to Larry flynt, who got shot… especially with all the shit that’s going on in our country now over political correctness and all this fucking nonsense. He got shot for free speech, man. I tried to have, like, a moment with him. I’m like, “Mr. Flynt, I just want to thank “you for all you’ve done for free speech. “It means a lot to me that you took a bullet and you went to the supreme court.” And I think I moved him on some level, because he’s like, “auuuggghhhhh.” I’m paraphrasing. Then I tipped over his wheelchair and t-bagged him. “Smell those, godless pornographer!” “Auuuggghhhhh.” And of course, the evening would not be complete if I didn’t introduce two of my favorite people in the world, who are responsible for so much of this career… my career. Opie and Anthony, stand up. Opie and Anthony, you two. No. Opie and Anthony, stand up. There you go. There you go. There you go. Yes. Thank you guys so much, and thanks for coming, man. I’m glad you guys are here. Thank you, man. Wouldn’t it be funny if they don’t sign the release, and I have to just blob their heads out? Shit. I got to tell you, too, a really cool sexual experience I had. One of the coolest experiences of my life I had in the 2004 porn awards. It was… I hosted with Jenna Jameson, and after the porn awards, I had a threesome with Ron Jeremy. And a girl, and a girl! It wasn’t Ron and a guy and lucky Jim! Or as I’m now known, the shish kebab kid! And I’ll tell you exactly what happened. My friend Dennis owns the bunny ranch, which is a legal whorehouse in Nevada, which he’s invited me to many times, and I’ve never gone to. Like, I don’t like the idea that it’s legal and fun. If I’m gonna get a hooker, I’m don’t want to be partying on a ranch. I want to be behind a warehouse in Brooklyn for $35. You know, some black girl with arms like Kobe Bryant and a crooked blond wig. “Hi, again, daddy.” All right, all right, all right. But I was so depressed because I was not meeting any girls after the porn awards, so I go up to Dennis’ room, and this is completely the truth. It was the most surreal thing I’d ever seen. I walk into the room, and there is Ron Jeremy fucking a girl on the bed. She’s on her hands and knees, and Ronnie is standing behind her. I walk in. He’s like, “hey, man, how’re you doing?” And I’m like, “all right.” And I can’t see much because he has a long hockey Jersey, but then he pulls all the way out, and there it was. Jesus did I stare. I think I even went, “oooh.” I was cock-struck. I really wanted a picture with it. So he starts fucking her again, and looks at me, and he goes “hey, man. I think she needs a cock in her mouth,” which is my cue. So I look at her to see it it’s ok because you have to confirm that. You can’t just run over and jam your dick in someone’s mouth. You might feel like a silly goose. “What are you doing?” “You look like you needed it.” But she was totally cool. And I’m normally not big on being sexual in a group because I get too nervous, man. For me to keep an erection, everything has to be perfect. You know, “dim the lights, touch my nipples, no talking!” But this is Ron Jeremy. This is like the pope giving mass, saying, “could you come up and help?” All right. It’s not exactly like that. So I take it out. She grabs it, she pops it in her mouth. Ron is fucking her, I am having a real and legitimate threesome with a porn legend, and I’m thinking, “this is great.” Without warning, Ron grabs her hips and goes pow! And she jumps forward, and my life flashes before my eyes. And he sees the look on my face, and he laughs, and he goes, “ha! I did that on purpose. I just wanted to show you the biggest no-no in porn. Whenever you’re having a two-on-one, you never thrust that hard, or you could seriously injure the other guy.” “Thank you.” And then I realize, that’s how you know you have a giant cock, when you can injure another person… Through a third party. If I want to hurt you with my dick, I have to pour tabasco sauce on the helmet and jam it in your eye. And I got to say, I don’t want to end on too political a note. I don’t want to be too political, but I got to say, ladies, please, shave your pussies. Shave them! I hate pubic hair! If I see hair on your pussy, I’ll put tape on it and rip it off myself. Didn’t have time to shave? Then you shouldn’t have had time to eat lobster. Evolution gives us pubic hair so we don’t freeze to death. We have things now like clothing and the indoors, so unless a stegosaurus is licking your twat, pick up a razor, you chimp. It’s getting caught in my teeth. And a lot of times, women don’t get it. They always say things like, “I don’t want to shave it all. It makes me look 12.” Yes! You see, I like things on women that sometimes you don’t even like on yourselves. I find odd things sexy. Like, I like big, dark areolas. I love that. The one that starts at the nipple and ends around the third rib. I love that. Your titties should look like you’re wearing a brown dunce cap. And I like a shaved pussy because I like to see it. I love the way a vagina looks just fucking bare and naked and fucking massive. I like a big pussy, a stack of luncheon meat. I like… unh… a gargoyle, a fucking gargoyle. After we fuck, I want to throw your cunt on top of a library. Fucking big, meaty pussy. When you’re wearing white panties, it should look like Freddie Kruger coming through the wall. Unh. Dangling, long labia. A pussy that resembles a poorly packed suitcase. And I know a lot of girls are going “that’s disgusting.” I’m not talking to you. So take your thin pussy and fucking beat it. Take that little guppy mouth you call a cunt and hit the bricks, sister. I like a big, fat, juicy vagina, and I like a big clit. I want a clit you can see through snow pants. Big, giant lips and a fat clit. It should look like a basset hound wearing a miner’s helmet. Retarded. I want your pussy to look retarded. It should have down syndrome. When your panties come aside, it should just flop out. “Duhhhh.” My girlfriend has a great pussy. Her vagina fucking rules. It’s of the smaller variety, but it’s wet. I’ve never felt a wetter pussy than my girlfriend’s. God love her little soul. The first time I noticed, we were in the car, and, um… And I felt it through her jeans, and I pulled away, and I got, like, that, like… you know that sexy slime you get? Like, it feel like somebody went “achoo.” Like, that sexy… And obviously this is not the sexiest way to put it, but I’m like, “wow. You get wet. And you’re a lefty.” But I’m like, “wow. You get wet.” And she’s like, “yeah. I’ve always been that way.” “Thanks. For a second I thought it was me, but, no, apparently it’s anybody with a hand or a Pepsi.” But, no, apparently it’s anybody with a hand or a Pepsi.” You ever get a squirter? Anybody ever get a squirter? A few guys have. It’s beautiful. There are women that ejaculate when they have an orgasm, and I was, like, 25 before I realized this. When I give head, I like to be on my back. Like, I want one leg there and one leg there. It’s like wearing a pussy iPod. You know, just pbbb. But you got to be careful. When you’re in that position, you are very vulnerable because women are brutal, man. When you’re on your back, she’ll put her palm on your forehead and then just grind over your face. You’re not a human being anymore. Your face is a bumpy thing she’s using to rub her clit on. In her mind, she’s 10, and you’re a horsy in front of the supermarket. Believe me. If you died, she would not notice until she was finished. And you feel stupid, so you try helping. You’re like, “auughh.” You’re like Terri Schiavo eating pussy. “Auughh. Auughh.” And this girl started to have an orgasm. It was like a super soaker. It was like… And I’m like, “gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.” I have never been more turned on in my life. I just wanted more. I was like, “ahhhhhhh. Rrrrrr.” “Rrrrrr.” And then after it was over, she got self-conscious. She’s like, “that wasn’t piss!” And I realized that it hadn’t occurred to me whether it was or wasn’t!

Thank you, guys, so much for coming out. Thank you, guys, very much. Thank you very much. I love you. Thank you. Thank you, and thank you to black sabbath! Thank you to black sabbath.


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