Whitney Cummings: Jokes (2022) | Transcript

Whitney gets personal about sex injuries and dating younger men, spills on her online photo leak, and waxes nostalgic about life before social media.
Whitney Cummings: Jokes (2022)

[cheering and applause]

[lively music playing]

[emcee] Give it up for my good friend and yours, Whitney Cummings!

[cheering continues]

What is up, Newark, New Jersey?


Whoo! Thank you so much for coming out.

This is my fifth stand-up special I am taping with you tonight.

It’s been a minute.

Uh, my last special, just to catch you up, I had announced that I had just gotten engaged.


Um… nope, nope, nope.

My personality handled that.

The problem is, nobody’s happy for me when I say I’m not engaged anymore.

I was just used to, when you’re in your twenties and you break up with someone, everyone is so proud of you.

They’re like, “Good for you, you don’t need him, fuck him!”

You break up with someone in your late thirties and people are like…

“Are you sure?”

You break up with someone in your twenties, everybody’s worried about your emotional state.

They’re like, “How are you feeling?”

You break up with someone in your late thirties, people are just worried about your physical safety.

They’re like, “You live alone again?”

“What if you fall?”

I guess I’m a late bloomer.

It took this long for me to figure out what I wanted in a relationship, although I finally figured out what I wanted– a man– only to realize that what I want is now considered creepy.

Um… I know it’s not popular to say, but I’m into older men. That’s my thing, I like an older man.


Are there any here tonight or did COVID get ’em?


Do we have any at all? Did any make it?

How old are you, sir?


Sixty! Aaaaaah…

I can’t– I can’t help it.

Why is that so hot to me?

It’s not even like a choice.

It’s like every cell in my body is just like, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

And then just…


But we can’t, we can’t do this, sir.

[inhales sharply]

Dating an older man is now considered creepy.

I think it was ’cause of all that sexual harassment news.

Now it’s, like, creepy to date older guys.

You’re not creepy, sir, it’s not you.

It’s not you specifically.

It’s just everything your generation made is a little sketchy.

I dated an older guy last year and we went on a road trip.

Every song on his playlist was, like, wild.

It was like… ♪ Hey, little girl ♪

♪ Is your daddy home? ♪

♪ Did he go away And leave you all alone? ♪

I was like, “Oh, God.”

I used to love that song.

That shit does not hit the same way.

But the good thing about dating older guys is that every now and then, you get to listen to R. Kelly by accident.

‘Cause they didn’t hear about it.

M’kay? Yahoo! News or whatever didn’t cover that story.

Oh, wow, you’re gonna try to be woke with me?

Newark? You sure?

You’re gonna try to tell me when the R. Kelly “Ignition Remix” comes on– and it’s not your fault– that that isn’t a gift from God?

Okay, I’m not an asshole. I’m not just going to enjoy the song.

I’m obviously going to educate him, you know.

I’m gonna be like, “Baby, you need to turn this song off.”

“You need to turn…”

“You need to turn this song off immediately.”

“This man is disgusting.”

“This man…”

“This man was a sexual predator.”

“What he did was wrong.”

“He objectified women.”

“There’s a documentary I need you to watch immediately.”

“There’s a Gayle King interview I need you to turn on, and you need to turn this song off in three minutes.”

Not dating an older man didn’t work out for me.

I did, however, get conned into dating a younger guy.

I’m dating a man who’s nine years younger than I am.


People are so down on younger guys, like, “How do you communicate with him?”

Like, he speaks, he can speak. He’s not that young.


The only time we have communication problems is when we text because he insists on texting with the little videos, the little moving videos that repeat 50 times.

What are they called, giffies?

GIFs! Everyone calls them something different.

All I know is that if I don’t respond for 20 minutes, I get Homer Simpson backing into a bush.

Fifty fuckin’ times in a row.

I’m like, “I haven’t seen this episode, I don’t know what this means.”

I know what most of the giffies mean, but sometimes it’s just, like, a random person.

Like, usually, it’s like Amy Poehler from Parks and Recreation, or it’s Steve Carell from The Office, but oftentimes it’s just a random fucking stranger out of context.

When we first started dating, he sent me one.

It was like a random toddler in the back seat of a car with buck-ass teeth.

She was just staring at me, she was like…

I didn’t know what I was looking at.

I was with a girlfriend, like, “Dude, if this is his kid, I’m fuckin’ out.”

“Absolutely not, you need to fix that. I can’t– no, no.”

“‘Course not. I can’t let that bitch ruin my Christmas cards, so make that go away.”

People are very down on younger guys, I feel like now.

People always say, when I tell them I’m dating a younger guy, they’re like, “Well, he’s a younger man.”

“Isn’t he desensitized to women from watching all that toxic porn?”

Like, I don’t think so.

Younger guys are way more sensitive because of whatever porn they’re watching.

He’s always so worried about me.

Like he gets really stressed out when I go visit my stepbrother alone.

Like, waits by the door.

I’m like, “What are you…?”

He’s very sweet.

The younger guys are nice. They’re nicer.

I think that maybe it’s ’cause from all that sexual harassment news, I think the younger guys might be scared of us or something, or maybe, you know, they respect us all of the sudden, whatever it is.

It’s annoying as fuck.

This guy, when we first hooked up, he had to ask permission for everything he did, everything, he had to ask consent.

He’d be like, “Can I kiss you?”

“Can I take off your bra?”

I’d be like, “I don’t know, bitch, can you?”

“I’m a 39-year-old woman.”

“You want me to have an orgasm, you better bring me to the brink of death and back.”

“Can you do that?”


They won’t even choke us anymore.

They’re too afraid to choke us.

He’ll do a hover, it’s like a choke hover. He’ll just hover his hands.

I’m like, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

So now I have to…

So now…

So now I have to choke myself.

I have to choke myself on your hand, so now I have to do a sit-up on my day off?

Is this what you bitches marched for, shitty sex?

Is this what you wanted?

‘Cause I would like to start a new march.

“Pay us equally, but choke us like the dirty whores we are.”

[cheering and applause]

[Whitney chuckling]

Ahh! He’s very weird about that stuff because three months in, he’s still asking permission.

I’m like, “What are you doing? This is weird. Yes, of course, fine.”

He’s like, “You just never know these days.”

“All my guy friends, they all say now that sometimes you can have sex with a girl, you’ll think it’s one thing, and then later, you’ll find out that it was something else.”


I have a question– I know this is gonna get me in so much trouble, but do you guys not know when you’re raping us?

You seem confused.

Two guys have sex with a girl, your guy friends next day are like, “How did it go, man?” You’re like…

[inhales sharply]


“Dude, it could have gone either way.”


“We either had amazing sex or I’m going to jail, dude.”

“Couldn’t tell ya.”


And then he goes, “If I don’t explicitly ask, how am I supposed to know if you’re into it?”

I was like, “I see what’s happening.”

“I need to make an announcement to clear up some confusion.”

“This will solve that problem.”

“I know it’s a bummer, but during sex, every now and then, you guys are gonna have to look at us in the face.”

“And I know it’s a bummer.”

“You’re just gonna have to check in, just quick… quick gander, just see what it…”

“Look me in the eyes.”

“If I’m crying, it’s consensual.”

“What’s the confusion?”

“I feel like…”

[laughter and applause]

“…you’re overcomplicating this.”

No, I do like an aggressive man, but I think that things have gotten a little too aggressive in some fetish communities.

I dated a guy that was in the dom-sub community.

It’s a very real thing.

And he said to me, like on our third date, “Just so you know, I would have to be your dom, you would be my sub.”

“I will text you 30 times a day orders that you have to follow,” and I was like… [clicks tongue] “Let me stop you right there.”

“You had me at ‘texting 30 times a day.’ I’m fucking in, this sounds incredible.”

Here’s what I did learn, though.

If you’re going to text a girl 30 times a day a bunch of orders, you better know how to spell.

So… you can’t dominate me if you don’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re.”

You’re gonna have to figure that out at some point.

I found it very silly until I realized, like, when he was bossing me around and telling me things to do,

I was like, “This is so goofy,” but then I realized you can use that dom-sub thing to change all the things about your dude that annoy you.

He’d be like, “Get down on your hands and knees!”

And I’ll be like, “Mm! Okay.”


“Hmm… and while I’m down here, what if I took off those Birkenstocks… mmm… and put them in the trash?”

“Ooh, I am so submissive.”

“And then what if I took this Fast and Furious poster off the wall and put that in the garbage?”

“And then I’m going to take this Call of Duty mouse pad, ’cause you’re 40.”


“And what if I took those iridescent oak leaves off your head, and what if I sat on them?”

“Ooh, so kinky, so kinky.”

“And then I’m gonna tell your roommate to move out!”

“Ooh, I am so submissive!”


You gotta find the silver lining, you never know.

I found it very silly, but every time he would say something that spooked me, I realized I’m old enough to maybe benefit from this weird-ass lifestyle.

He’d be like, “If you’re bad, I have to punish you.”

I’d be like… [snickering] “What does that entail?”

He’d be like, “I have to physically hurt you,” and I was like, “Eww.”

“That sounds weird.”

“Then again I pay people to do that sometimes.”

“Okay, you know what would really punish me?”

“If you jammed your finger into this knot right under my shoulder blade for like 45 minutes every day.”

“Ooh, that would punish me so much.”

“You know what I hate– when people crack my back.”

“Oh, please don’t!”

[sighs] That did not work out. I couldn’t take it seriously.

This new guy, the younger guy, doesn’t make me do anything I don’t wanna do.

Almost like– it’s a little much, actually.

I feel like I’ve gotten really lazy.

Uh, I recently sat him down and I had to retire a couple sexual positions.

It’s a wrap on Reverse Cowgirl for me personally.

I’m not trying to be lazy, I just don’t think it’s sexy anymore.

I think it’s just more distracting with my knees going “pop-pop-pop, crack-crack, pop-pop-pop-pop, pop-pop-pop.”

I do believe the joint pop during sex is truly the only thing we cannot laugh about yet as a species.

We can laugh about queefs at this point. It’s not embarrassing, guys love it.

They’re like, “Yeah, my dick is so big, I made that pussy fart, yeah.”

[imitating fart]

They love it. They don’t think that you have a giant pussy, they think they have a giant dick, you’re fine.

You’re fine, you’re fine.

But that joint pop, that’s embarrassing.

There’s nothing… there’s nothing you will not say to get out of that situation, dude.

You go down, like, “pop-pop.” “Was that the bubble wrap?”

“I think that might have been the bubble wrap.”

“Pop-pop? Are we under attack, was that a machine gun?”

I really try, I give it my all. I just have too many injuries.

I go down, 20 seconds in, I’m jammed up.

I got that catcher’s knee.

He knows right away, he’ll be like, “Baby, do you want to turn over?”

“Turn over? Bitch, I live here now.”

“You’re dating a 39-year-old woman.”

“Reverse Cowgirl is not the third or fourth position in a series of nine or ten.”

“It’s the final position every time it is attempted, okay?”

“The only thing to do at this point is to figure out how I can dismount with a modicum of dignity without further injuring my L4.”

“Now, listen very carefully.”

“I’m gonna need you to scoot out.”

“Need your little shimmy-shimmy, little reverse Storming Normandy, shimmy outta there.”

“Now I’m gonna need you to turn the lights out, pitch-black.”

“Go get Mommy some Icy Hot and some WD-40 while I figure out how to get out of this goddamn nightmare.”


Now I injured my back, which means now I need to retire Missionary.


And I also need to retire this fucking joke.



I’m very pro younger guys, I’m telling you.

They’re very sweet, they’re very caring, they want us to have orgasms.

This guy always wants to check to see if I have an orgasm.

After we had sex, he’s like, “Did you come?”

I’m like, “Of course not.”

“When would that have happened? My hands are up here.”

“What do you– what?”


[high-pitched whistling]

Was that a birdcall? What the fuck’s going on over there?

No, he’s very into that, and he’s very into, like, sex toys.

For Valentine’s Day, he got me a sex toy as my main gift.

He showed up with this gorgeous box.

Gives it to me, he’s like, “I found this sex toy for you on Instagram.”

“It’s made for women by women.”

I opened it, it’s gorgeous.

It’s like this glass orb.

I was like, “Baby, this is stunning. We should put this on the coffee table.”

“I would– I would buy this at West Elm. How much did you pay for that?”

He was like, “It was $180.”

I was like, “Oh, you’re going to return that right now and I will masturbate with the cash.”


[laughter and applause]


“Something you don’t know about me is that my kink is thrift, and I’m never going to be able to have an orgasm knowing that was $180.”

“Get the fuck outta here. Okay? You’re dating an older woman.”

“We’re ratchet as fuck when it comes to sex toys, okay?”

“We came up on the jelly cocks.”

$18, 92 veins. That’s a bargain.

Now, that is a bargain.

They saved money because they molded those jelly cocks onto a homeless man who had just overdosed on methamphetamine and cocaine.

They’re like… [straining]

“We got it!”

“Now all we gotta do is cover it in glitter and it’s ready for market.”


Those jelly cocks had a suction cup on the back.

You just pop that shit onto a wall.

Or a washing machine, in my case.

That is a product made for women.

Is anyone dating an older woman?

Younger man/older woman?

-[man, clapping] Me. -Yes. One guy. Okay.

How much older? How much older is she than you?

Three months.

Three months.

[laughter and applause]

That’s your definition of “older woman,” got it.

How old– may I ask how old you are, sir?

-[man] 53. -53, oh, okay. Okay, got it.

You do get points for that.

Do you have a life insurance policy on her or what’s, uh…

[man] Her job does.

Her– he went, “Her job does.”


I do feel like a lot of guys are now dating older women.

It’s progressive, but at the same time, you gotta watch it.

Don’t just pat yourself on the back. You can’t waste her time.

You can’t trifle with a woman in her thirties, you know what I’m saying?

If you’re dating a woman in her thirties, that’s like going to the grocery store and buying avocados.

You better have a fuckin’ plan.


[applause and cheering]

You don’t just go to the grocery store willy-nilly and decide, “I’m gonna buy some avocados.”

No, you better have fuckin’ guacamole shit in your cart.

You better have a party coming up, ’cause you know exactly how that’s gonna end.

Day one, you look at those brand-new avocados, you’re like,

“I got all the time in the world.”

You have five days!

Like my dude, I tell him, “I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re gonna marry me. I will propose to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?”

“I’m not gonna just let you watch me rot while you plan a scavenger hunt so that I can hunt for my ring, following a treasure map into the woods like a fucking truffle pig.”

Like… [snorting]

“Can I have my ring, please?” [snorting]

You guys overthink the proposal thing.

I feel like I want to get ahead of it.

I don’t want him to get down on one knee and propose.

I don’t want him to see my neck from this angle.

Like, I feel like I’ll lose a lot of leverage.

Don’t you dare shoot my neck from this fuckin’ angle, either.

No, I do not understand why women don’t propose to men more.

Um, I always thought that was weird until I thought through it.

“Why don’t I get down on one knee and propose?”

And then I realized why ’cause I thought it through, right?

“Okay, I’m going to get down on one knee…”

Pop-pop, crack-crack.

And I realized that if you’re a woman proposing to a man, you have to open with something completely different than the guys open.

I would have to open with, “If you take your dick out right now, I will fucking kill you.”


[scattered applause]

[applause building]

“I thought that maybe all of our friends and family behind me might be a dead giveaway that I’m not gonna suck your dick… on this beach… next to your niece who’s filming.”

“But I guess I have to say this.”

“Also, when have I sucked your dick on one knee?”

“When have I ever been in this configuration? Okay?”

“I would never suck your dick on one knee because I know you would think about Colin Kaepernick, and we can’t both be doing that.”

[audience] Ooh!

[scattered applause]

Then I would just go into my romantic speech.

I’d be like, “Alex, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and let me buy my own engagement ring?”

“‘Cause you can’t afford the one I deserve.”

[laughter and applause]

[inhales sharply]


I’ve been wrong before. I can be wrong.

But this is the first guy I’ve ever dated where I do feel like we might have kids together, but I also kind of want to make sure, before we have kids, we do those, like, 23andMe tests so I know what I’m in for.

Has anyone done a 23andMe test?

[fan] Whoo!

Yeah? How’d it go?

[woman] I’m 10% Native American.

You’re 10% Native American, but you didn’t know that?

[woman] No idea.

Your kids will be getting into college, so congratulations.

You have that.

I’m obsessed with these ancestry results.

But no one will let me take that test. They’ll be like, “They’re gonna take your data.”

Who gives a fuck?

They’ll be like, “They’re gonna have your phone number and email address.”

I’m like, “Okay.”

I’m old enough to remember when there used to be a book full of everyone’s phone numbers and home addresses and they would just throw it at your house.


They were all over people’s porches, in bags.

No one even opened them.

Homeless people would wipe their assholes with your data.

No one wants your fuckin’ data, you dorks!


Everyone in the audience in their twenties is like, “She doesn’t get it.”

“Our data is very precious. Everyone’s, like, obsessed with it.”

I’m aware.

I have a 25-year-old guy working in my office.

Everything’s about his privacy and his data– I can’t even pay him.

He will not send me his tax form.

He’s like, “I can’t email this document.”

“This is a private document.”

“My private information.”

I’m like, “Cool.”

We used to fax our “private” documents to an establishment called Kinko’s.

To a communal tray.

Full of other private documents.

Our encryption, it was something called a “cover page.”

Just a piece of paper you would put on top of the other piece of paper.

If there was a ceiling fan, you were fucked.

There’s no privacy in Kinko’s.

You go to the front of the line, like, “Hey, um, I’m here to pick up my private document.”

They’ll be like, “Cool. Are you the girl with the DUI or, uh… the one with the Valtrex prescription?”

You’ll be like, “Dude, chill, I’m both. Chill.”


[scattered applause]

You putting tape over your camera on your computer, sir?

You are? I knew it.

Putting tape over your computer camera.

You’re like, “Russia’s not gonna see this dick.”

“They don’t deserve to see this V-neck and this dick.”

You deleting your cookies?

You don’t know, you’re not sure. That means, “Yes, every 20 seconds.”

All the guys in my office are like, “We need a program that deletes all of our cookies.”

I’m like, how much weird-ass porn are you watching?

Where is our homie, where is 65? Where is our guy? Did he pass on?

Okay, there he is. Um…


Listen to me. They– if you can hear me.

Listen, they… watch all the porn on the Internet, and then they complain that it doesn’t get deleted fast enough.

They have to delete their cookies.

Do you have any idea what he had to do when he wanted to see a pair of titties?

He had to drive into town.

Look for a newsstand.

He had to look a grown man in the eye and say, “I would like a Big Beaver magazine, please.”


His cookies was a human man!

Who he could run into at the grocery store or church whenever.

He never knew.

If he wanted to delete his cookies, he had to kill his friend!

[laughter and applause]

This man is an American hero.

That’s what he is.

I feel I might be a little desensitized to all the privacy stuff.

Maybe, I don’t know, I think that that ship sailed for me.

Uh, if you didn’t hear, a couple of years ago, I had my nudes publicly leaked.

Uh, and I’m gonna tell you something right now, Newark, New Jersey.

It wasn’t that bad.


Wasn’t that bad.


They got my whole cloud, and I was actually way more embarrassed about all my screen grabs of inspirational quotes.

That’s the shit you want to get ahead of, that will bite you in the ass.

I was like, “You guys can have my titties, but please don’t tell anyone about all those Marilyn Monroe quotes in that folder titled, ‘You got this, girl.'”

“It was a bad… week.”

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t even a nude photo that I got to take myself and make it cute.

It was a screen grab of a video that I’d accidentally uploaded on Instagram Stories when I was in the bathtub and high on edibles.

[scattered laughter]


I’m in the bathtub and I’m making this Instagram Story, right?

I’m so high. I get out of the bathtub.

And you know when you post something on social media and you’re like, “I feel like that was good.”

Like, “I feel like that’s gonna get in the algorithm.”

Like, “That’s gonna get in there.”

I open my phone to see how many “likes” it got.

“14 missed calls.”

My friends were like, “Whitney, your tits are on the Internet!”

I had videoed myself getting… out of the bathtub.

And it was a very long video, because…

You know when you’re high or drunk and you’re alone in your house and you’re convinced that all your furniture’s trying to kill you?

I was like, “Not tonight, side table. Not tonight.”

“Coffee table looking at me like I’m a snack, no way.”


So I was able to delete it.

Everything was fine, it came down in, like, five minutes.

Three months later, I get this very cryptic email from an AOL address.

This can’t be good.

I open it, and it was a guy who was trying to extort me.

He goes, “If you don’t give me $10,000, I’m gonna sell this photo of your boobs to a tabloid.”

And I’m, like, opening the photo, it’s loading, and I’m like, “Wait a second, how did he know my boobs cost exactly $10,000?”

Like, this is a very fair hacker.

Um… I open it and it’s a screen grab of the video where I’m hunched over at this angle, and it is not a flattering angle.

And on a bit of a serious note, if you guys saw my last special, you know that I talked about my history of struggling with eating disorders and body image issues, and I hope every woman accepts their body unconditionally wherever you are.


Except from this angle.

Um… because it’s actually not acceptable.

I said all that before I had seen titties from this angle.

Uh, nobody told me, no matter how perky your tits are, the second you bend over, they get long and pointy.

Did you know about this?

They’re super perky, then they just turn into traffic cones.

Did you know that?

With, like, a dent in the side.

Like traffic cones where someone kicked in the side of the…

I did not know about that elasticity situation.

I mean, I had a little bit of a suspicion.

I had seen a glimpse of myself having doggie-style sex in a mirror before, and I remember thinking, “Why do my titties look like those inflatable men outside a car dealership?”

They’re just sort of…

And I know on my last special I talked about having fake boobs, but the fake boobs, they do the same thing.

You thought they’d stay cute, they don’t. They get long and pointy and weird.

I think the fake boobs unionized with the real boobs.

They started working together.

And the only real difference between fake boobs and real boobs is that real boobs, you know, when you lie down, they just completely disappear.

They’re gone, dude. They ghost you.

They’re like, “Bitch, I did my job. Peace!”

Whereas fake boobs, fake boobs, they go no place.

The guy that I’m with had never slept with a girl with fake boobs before.

The first time I lied down naked in front of him, he literally– literally this was his reaction– he’d be like…

[gasps] Like it was a– audible gasp. It was like [gasps].

I would say, “What?”

It is jarring, it’s a little jarring, it is.

It’s like two crocodile eyes coming out of a pond.

It’s very…

[laughter and applause]

It is relentless.

And, uh… although I do sometimes miss having real boobs because I miss them disappearing.

My favorite prank used to be when I would hook up with a guy for the first time, I would lay down and my boobs would disappear, and he’d get on top of me, and I’d go, “Ha ha! You’re gay.”

[Whitney laughing]

I know. Can you believe I’m not married?


[scattered applause]


So I’m in this situation where this guy’s trying to extort me.

I’m not gonna give him the $10,000. He’s just gonna do this to someone else.

So I was like, “Oh, God, this is such an ethical dilemma.”

So I was like, “Okay, I’m just gonna post these photos on social media so he can’t sell them.”

I queued them up to post to Instagram and Twitter in, like, an hour.

I scheduled the post, and then I did like seven shots of whiskey and passed out.

Woke up three hours later.

Your Auntie Whitney trending on Porn Hub.

[cheering and applause]

I feel like… I feel like all the guys that were dragged here by their wives and girlfriends right now are like, “That is how I know her.”

“Okay, I know… “

“I got it. I know her, I know her. I know who that is, okay.”

I get shamed about this all the time.

People blame me, like, “Why were your photos in the cloud?”

“Why did you have videos in the cloud?”

“Why didn’t you have privacy for all your photos?”

‘Cause I’m not a fucking nerd?

Like, when has that even been an option?

That’s not something I’m trained to think is even possible, dude.

We used to take a roll of film, and we would leave it with some guy at Kroger for like a week.

And then we found out whatever the fuck he was doing only took an hour.

Like, none of it’s good.

Those prints came back sticky as hell. You know I’m right.

I never want to be negative about technology.

The only time I ever get a little bit suspicious of technology is when I go to the doctor and I see some new gadget that we didn’t have before that makes you do math on what we did before the gadget.

Like I had to go in for a COVID test last year.

They were like, “Ma’am, we need to take your temperature.”

I was like, “Cool.”

They were like, “Ma’am, we haven’t done that in a while now.”

I was like, “I haven’t had my temperature taken in a while now, so what?”

This next generation, you just had little laser beams?

Aimed at your forehead?

And we had anal sex with thermometers our entire childhoods?

You guys are just cool with this? You’re just gonna let this slide?

‘Cause I would like to discuss reparations at some point.

If you think about what it was like for us to be at the doctor as kids, it’ll ruin your day.

When I was a kid, you got buck naked at every doctor.

No questions asked.

I still do it.

Old habits, dude. I just want to get out of there quickly, and there’s rules about it, there’s laws now.

If a doctor walks in, they’ll be like, “No, ma’am, you’ve got to put on a robe.”

“This is illegal now.”

“What do you mean? You’re my ophthalmologist.”

“Don’t you need to see if…?”

“Don’t you need to see if my nipples work? Like, since when?”

I feel like what happened is that women started becoming doctors and they looked at the protocols that the male doctors had made before them, and they were like, “Okay, let’s see what…”

“Wait a second, they didn’t need to be naked at the ear, nose and throat doctor, you perverts.”

They were like… [deep voice] “Eh, we had a good run.”


“Don’t worry, we got Polaroids.”

I went to my annual gynecological exam.

For the first time ever, there was, all of the sudden, a chaperone in the room.

Is that a law here?

There’s a chaperone during the gynecological– this never happened before. I’ve been going to this guy for 25 years.

He’s 70 years old, all of the sudden there’s this nurse there.

I was like, “My only opportunity to get fingered by an older man, and you are fucking it up!”

“You are fucking this up for me.”


“What? What? Oh, he’s got to wear gloves during the exam?”

“Cool! You fucking nerd.”

“We have a thing going on.”

I was fine, I was like, “Dude, I’m used to this.”

She was the one stressed out. I was like, “Are you okay?”

“Do you need a chaperone?”

“You’re watching me get fingered by Santa Claus.”

“How are you doing?”



I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to ruin Santa Claus for you.

No, I feel like I’m the most pro-technology of all my friends.

A lot of my friends are very against technology.

They’re worried about it.

It’s mostly my friends that are parents.

As soon as my friends become parents, they get freaked out about technology.

Mostly the phones, that’s every conversation I have with parents now.

They’re like, “These kids, now they’re on their phones eight hours a day.”

“Kids are on their phones all day long now.”

I’m like, “Good.”

“We’ve finally figured out a way to shut them the fuck up.”



“Why are you complaining about this miracle in your living room?”

They’re like, “Whitney, because the phones are dangerous for the kids.”


Are they?

Is anything more dangerous for the kids than what we played on?

You want to put your kids on the shit we played on when we were children?

Okay, great, why don’t you put your kid on a merry-go-round?

Remember that quality item?

It’s like a lazy Susan for pedophiles.

Make sure they saw every angle of the kid.

They wait for the first kid to fall off who didn’t cry.

They’d be like, “That’s the one.”

We used to play on something called a seesaw.

It’s a piece of wood on a hinge.

The main objective was just to catapult the other child… into the air.

And we were such homicidal psychopaths.

If you were the kid that was on the bottom, you’d be like, “I wonder what would happen if I just jumped off this?”

[laughter and applause]

We’d… We’d watch the other kid careen to the ground, shattered nine vertebrae.

Attempted murder, every day.

At recess.

“But the phones!”

Fuck outta here.

I have a goddaughter, she’s five. I went to her playground.

If you’ve been to a playground recently, you know playgrounds are totally–

You know, playgrounds now, they’re, like, mushy?

Did you know that playgrounds have shade?

Dude, we had a slide made out of sheet metal.

[cheering and applause]

It would bake in the hot sun.

Dude, you’d get down on it. It was like a hot skillet.

You’d go down that slide, like… [shrieking]

We’d be squealing like pigs.

Frying our assholes!

Which had just had a thermometer in it 20 minutes earlier at the school nurse.

[cheering and applause]

It kind of ruined our plans to put sparklers in our butts later that night.


This is a very incendiary thing to talk about, people will argue with me.

They’re like, “Whitney, it’s also about, like, the phones.”

“They can be tracked. What if predators find the kids?”

I’m like, “Yeah, that’s bad, that’s not good.”

Then again, when I was a kid on the schoolyard, we would play a game on the swings called “Spider” where you would straddle the other child and just… fuck each other.

We’d just fuck each other in broad daylight.

All the teachers saw what we were doing.

The teachers were in the corner like, “Aaah!”

Like, they knew. They didn’t care.

Any predator that found the kid on their phone, they’d walk up and they’d be like, “Eww, never mind, dude.”

“Those kids are nasty.”

You cannot argue that kids are not physically safer than they’ve ever been.

Like, kids don’t get injured the way we got injured.

When’s the last time you saw a kid in a cast?

It doesn’t fuckin’ happen, dude.

We used to spend the first 45 minutes of school signing casts.

That’s how we learned to read and write.

Half the kids in my grade, they had a cast with a metal bar.

It was a metal rod, it was a metal– kids were doing the Hitler salute just the entire school year.

I do feel like the casts were like the first “comments section.”

We’d all write on them, we’d be like, “Hey, love you. Get well soon.”

And then some punk would draw like a dick on the back, with balls.

No one would tell the kid.

Just add emotional injury to physical injury.


People will even argue with me about that.

People will be like, “No, Whitney, the kids do get injured ’cause they type all day and it hurts their fingers and their fingers have pre-arthritis.”

I’m like, “Got it.”

We used to play a game called “Bloody Knuckles.”


[scattered applause]

We would just punch each other in the knuckles until our eyes started twitching.

They’re like, “But sometimes the kids have to wear wrist braces because they get tendonitis in their wrists from typing.”

I’m like, “We used to play a game called ‘Red Rover, Red Rover,’ where you would hold hands with another kid and just pray that your wrist didn’t snap off your fucking body.”

That is a move that’s illegal in the NFL, it’s illegal.

It’s called the flying wedge. We played it every day at recess, dude.

Red Rover, dude.

And then the kid with the metal-bar cast, they let him play!

[laughter and applause]

The kids are fine. I’ve heard every argument.

I’ve yet to hear an argument that really convinces me that the kids are in any real trouble, but people will still fight with me.

They’ll be like, “Whitney, it’s the social media, it traumatizes the children, it’s psychologically traumatizing.”

I’m like, “Hmm, when I was five, my parents showed me a movie called Old Yeller.”


“And then I had to read a book called Where the Red Fern Grows.”

“Feel like all those alive puppies on TikTok are probably fine.”

This is a big one, “Wendy, they could go on the Internet and get misinformation.”

That’s all we got.

My mom used to tell me that when the ice-cream truck played music, that meant it was out of ice cream.

[laughter and applause]

Do you know how fucked up that is?

We got misinformation in the form of lies.

From people that were supposed to love us.

I remember on the way home from school, I’d be like, “Mom, can we stop at McDonald’s?”

She’d be like, “Sorry, baby, it’s closed.”

Like, “Aw, man!”

Try pulling that shit with a kid today. Good luck.

Be like, “Mom, I wanna go to McDonald’s.”

She’ll be like, “Sorry, baby, it’s closed.”

“Bitch, that’s a 24-hour McDonald’s.”

“And if you don’t take me right now, I will tweet that you molest me.”

“So… your move, baby girl.”

“Your move.” [giggles]

I’ve just heard every argument, and I feel like it’s a little overblown.

What I hear is about how kids, all they do is take pictures of themselves.

“They just take pictures of themselves, they take selfies all day long.”

Who gives a shit?

We’re just jealous, I think we’re jealous because we got one photo a year.

We had a day.

It was called “Photo Day.”

It was our only opportunity in a year to get proof of our existence, and we had to wait in line for five hours,

holding an envelope full of change?

You would get to the front of the line, you had one shot, dude.

They’d be like, “All right, say cheese!”

[imitates shutter] “I think I blinked!”

He’d be like, “Sorry, brace face, see you next October.”

Kids now, they can get eight tries till they get a good one.

We got eight sizes of the same shitty photo.

What were those sizes?

I remember being with my mom in the Walmart frame section, she’s in tears.

She’s like, “What’s this one? What is this, a 9×1?”

“I don’t even– is this a bookmark? I don’t know what that was.”

“What’s this tiny little one? Is this for a locket?”

“I paid 74 nickels for this bullshit!”

I think we have to use critical thinking on this stuff, you know?

I know it’s insensitive sometimes to say, but people will be like, “Whitney, the phones, they are really toxic for the kids.”

“The filters on Instagram, they give the kids body dysmorphia.”

Okay, I have body dysmorphia ’cause we used to xerox our faces.

I’ve never seen myself before because I fried my retina on the surface of the fuckin’ sun, ’cause that was the only way to get a selfie back in my day.

And then we would play with something called “pin art,” you remember that?

It was the red frame with all the little needles in it, and you put your– put your hand, the outline, and your hand would go–

We’d put it on our face!

[laughter and applause]

My generation needs filters to cover up the tetanus scars from jamming our head into a box of nails.



I just think it might be the best-case scenario.

You can’t let kids get bored, and when kids get bored, they do dumb shit, that’s it.

Like before phones, for our main form of amusement, we used to walk around the mall.

For five hours.

With no money.

You know some bad ideas are gonna bubble up at some point.

Twenty minutes in, we’d be like, “Oh, my God!”


“Should we just get in the van with that guy?”

“Like, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen?”

“He’s got candy.”

Like, that was our Candy Crush, just a guy in the Penney’s parking lot with Werther’s Originals.

Wearing that exact shirt.


No, I just feel like it’s just so odd to me, like when people come up to me after I talk about this stuff.

They’ll come up to me, like, “What did your parents think of all that?”

They didn’t.

Our parents had no idea what we were doing.

My mom used to say to my face, “Go out and play. Come back before dark.”

Kids don’t know when it’s gonna get dark.

Gets dark, and they’re like, “Fuck, it’s dark!”


“This happens every night! It’s always a surprise!”

And then we would just have to Blair Witch Project our way home.

Eventually we’d find a pay phone, and you’d have to pray that your mom would take a collect call.

You call your mom and you’d be like, “You have a collect call from–“

“Mom, it’s dark! Come find us!”

And then you would just hitchhike and… that was kind of the deal.

It’s wild to think about because even when our parents were with us, they had no idea what we were doing.

My mom used to take me to birthday parties every Sunday, and we would play in something called a “bounce house.”

Is that what you guys call it in New Jersey?

Are you sure? You guys seem rich.

Do you call it a “bouncy castle”? Don’t lie to me.


She’s like, “Okay, you’re right, I’m a princess.”


So you’d roll up to the bouncy castle, right?

And I remember, even as a kid, I always thought that shit was sketchy.

I was like, “I’m just a kid and I don’t know anything about math, but, like… there’s, like, 70 pairs of kids’ shoes outside, but only, like, three kids inside.”

No maternal alarm bells are going off.

She would just fuckin’ leave.

She would leave, and you remember the screen outside the bounce house?

That was painted over, she didn’t know what was going on.

You guys remember what was going on.

There was always that bully kid who was, like, hiding in the corner who had been practicing all day how to bounce.

He knew every sort of part.

He knew all the soft spots, he knew how to bounce, and he would just wait in the corner for new blood to come in.

You would come in there, you’d be like, “I’m on the moon!”

Come outta nowhere.

Boom! Bounce you into the air, down into the crevice between the floor and the wall

where you would join nine other kids who had been there for five days, covered in their own blood and piss.

I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what to do.

I’m trying to figure out how to be a good mother.

I’m not a mother, but I am a godmother. Is anyone a godparent?

-[scattered applause] -Yeah? It’s a fuckin’ scam.

It’s a racket.

You fall in love with this child and you have no authority over them at all.

Then you just get yelled at by the parent, you know?

I get yelled at constantly.

All I do is try to do good things for this child.

I love her so much.

Every time she comes over, I get in trouble.

Like recently she came over, I had gone to a store.

I got all this organic, like, food, and, like, I made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, gluten-free bread, right, I think I’m in the clear.

And, uh, she comes over, and there was peanut butter on the sandwich and… if you live in California and you put peanut butter on a sandwich and it’s near a child, uh, Will Smith just comes out and punches you in the face.



It’s like a new law.

So I got in trouble for that.

But then I got some other fuckin’ almond butter thing and all this organic stuff, and she’s like, “I need to see the bottle,” and I was like, “It’s organic.”

She’s like, “Hmm, even a lot of the organic brands have chemicals.”

I was like, am I the only kid that drank out of a hose till I was, like, 14?

Dude, I remember the first time I went to a restaurant.

They brought me water, I was like, “Eww, what’s this clear shit?”

“I ordered water, the murky stuff that makes you go night-night?”

“Try again.”

“Ecch! I already had to bring my own paint chips to this shit hole.”

I’m always getting in trouble.

I guess I just don’t know how to be a good parent.

There’s all this new stuff you have to, like, know about, and I just feel like it’s a little bit overkill, ’cause I really try and I always end up in trouble every time I try to be in her life.

She recently got into ballet, all right? She’s five years old, she’s in ballet.

I’m like, I have to go to the recital for that ’cause there’s nothing cuter than toddlers in ballet because they all have, like, beer bellies.

For no reason.

They probably have tapeworms ’cause they only eat fuckin’ organic shit.

Just saying. And then…


…their pantyhose never fit, right?

‘Cause no one wants to touch their legs ’cause it’s too awkward, so they all have like ball sacks on their knees and they’re just like these stupid little sumo wrestlers knocking into each other, so I was like, “I have to go to that, that’s hilarious.”

And I did not get in trouble until the freakin’ end after it’s over, right?

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t talk about the ball sacks.

I totally behaved myself.

And then after the show, I went up to my goddaughter, and I was like, “Olivia, you did such a good job and you looked so pretty in your outfit.”

My friend pulls me aside, she goes, “Whitney, get over here!”

“We don’t say she’s pretty.”

“We say she’s smart.”

I was like, “Okay.”

“But she’s not.”

[laughter and applause]

“I am happy to lie.”

“I’m trying to understand what we’re doing ’cause the spelling bee’s down the hall.”

“Maybe we can plié down to the spelling bee ’cause your kid can’t fuckin’ read yet ’cause you let her choose her own classes.”

“How am I the asshole?”

“You’re the one that bought lingerie for your baby.”

“How am I…?”

“I just watched you put mascara on your toddler in the parking lot.”

“I feel like we’re even.”

She goes, “Whitney, you don’t understand.”

“There is an epidemic in this country of girls that define themselves through their appearance over their intelligence.”

I was like… “That sounds true.”

“But there’s also an epidemic of hot girls who think they’re smart.”

[laughter and applause]

“What are we gonna do about that?”

“You can make a difference today.”

No, I’m always getting in trouble with her.

I have very strong feelings about stuff ’cause I love her.

She’s in ballet, and I feel like a toddler in ballet, totally fine, it’s cute, but I feel like, as a girl, you cut ballet off at, what, like ten?

Eight, ten.

I basically said to her, “I don’t think that toddlers need to keep doing ballet later.”

Like, I don’t think anything should exist today if you can’t sell it right now as a brand-new idea.

I get why ballet was entertaining like 400 years ago, but I don’t think it needs to still be a business based on what we now know.

Imagine trying to sell ballet as a brand-new concept to a Broadway producer right now.

You’d be like, “Hey, I have this idea for a show.”

“It’s a dance show.”

“It’s about 20 18-year-old girls.”

“They dance for about two hours in underwear.”

They’ll be like, “Brrr, I’m sorry, is that like a burlesque-type show?”

“Not at all.”

“They don’t have tits or asses because we starve them.”

“And their toes look like curly fries for the rest of their life.”

They’d be like, “Uhh… I’m sorry, I’m just trying to understand this show.”

“So it’s just women, there’s no men in the show?”

“Oh, my God, totally forgot to tell you.”

“Yes, there is one man in the show.”

“He is like 30 and he’s the one that holds them up by their pussies.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around this idea.”

“Um, so they’re just in underwear? Is that the only–“

“Oh, forgot to tell you.”

“Of course they’re not just in underwear. We have skirts for them, obviously.”

“But we figured out a way to make them go straight out.”

“So you can still see everything you need to see.”

[clicks tongue]

“I’m sorry, I’m just– [splutters] I’m not getting it.”

“Do you want to just, I don’t know, show me the dance moves?”

She’s like, “No problem, it’s very simple.”

“They just show their pussies… from every angle.”

“Their pussies fly. They’re making the pussies fly.”

“And then they just present their pussies to everyone in the audience.”

“One by one.”

“You know how you blow kisses at people? They just blow their pussies at people.”

“Don’t worry, we don’t let them smile.”

“Make sure they have no joy behind their eyes.”

You can have one, of course, sir. Of course.

Ballet is a wild show!

It’s a wild show.

You know a show’s creepy when they give the audience binoculars.

Like, why do they have binoculars?

Why do the binoculars have one handle bar?

Why do you need one hand free?

What is this show?

It’s called The Nutcracker, you guys!

[laughter and applause]

I love you, Newark, New Jersey!

♪ Don’t act like that’s a disease ♪

♪ Need y’all to bear with me, please ♪

♪ I just say what I see ♪

♪ You look at me And you see what I see ♪

♪ Because you’re looking In the mirror… ♪

I love you, Newark, New Jersey!

♪ Because you’re looking In the mirror… ♪

You better fuckin’ catch me!

You better catch me!

♪ ‘Cause maybe, maybe, maybe We’re just the same ♪

♪ Because you’re looking In the mirror ♪

♪ We’re all crossing paths For a reason… ♪

Get your photos, everyone!

♪ Hoping just to share Some laughs… ♪

Here we go, Bap Bap Bap!


♪ Have I met you in the past ♪

♪ In a life that I lived last ♪

Bap Bap Bap!

You want to see my new act?


♪ Well, I don’t know The monsters you knew ♪

♪ But I’m trying to forget The ones I met too ♪


♪ Baby, you could help me ♪

♪ Baby, I’m-a help you… ♪

[audience] Whoo!


What’s up, Des Moines, Iowa?!

[indistinct chatter]

That is wild to me!

♪ Baby, baby, baby… ♪

All right, I love you. We’re outside your house, bitch.

Hard work paid off!

Hard work paid off!

Thank you to the Windy City for drying out my chin but not my… [clicks tongue]

♪ It’s the same pain ♪

I love you!

♪ And when I wake, I hear ♪


♪ The same wave ♪

♪ Of sirens coming down my way ♪

♪ Ay-ay-ay-ay ♪

So, my pants did split.


[chanting “Hard work paid off!”]

♪ You look at me And you’ll see what I see ♪

♪ Ayyyy ♪

♪ When you’re with me ♪

♪ There’s no use in hiding ♪

♪ Because you’re looking In the mirror ♪

♪ Baby, baby, baby ♪

♪ Don’t look away… ♪

I love you, Newark!

♪ ‘Cause, baby, baby, baby ♪

♪ We’re just the same ♪

♪ Because you’re looking In the mirror ♪


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