Bill Burr: Walk Your Way Out (2017) Movie Script

All right, thank you.
Thank you very much. How are you?
How's it going?
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Nice to be here.
Nice to be here. Thank you.
I appreciate it.
Let's see if I'm funny first.
Let's see if I'm funny.
Nice to be here in Nashville.
Look at me.
I went out and got myself a cowboy shirt.
To fit in with all you guys
coming in from your ranches.
Living out there in the barns.
Is this what you're doing?
You're like, "I'm working on an app,
"To launch this website."
Oh, shit.
What a fucked-up time this is, huh?
It's so weird to tape a special
right before a presidential election,
especially one like this.
Like, this is literally, like,
"What is going to happen?"
You know? How the fuck did we end up
with these two? Jesus Christ.
This is like
the first week of American Idol.
You know?
It's like, "Really? This is what I got?"
"Take his coat! Take his coat!"
Whatever the hell she's doing. You know?
It's unbelievable. You've either got
a racist dope or, like, the devil.
Like, that's the choices.
"I just walk up
and grab it! I just grab it!"
All right.
Is that what you do?
Fucking lunatic. "I'm gonna build a wall.
I'm gonna build a wall."
I love people thinking he's actually gonna
do that. Really? Are you gonna do that?
You're gonna build a wall
from fucking California to Texas?
You're gonna do this?
Have you ever done that drive?
Because I've done that drive.
Took the 10 East out of Los Angeles.
That is a two-day drive, 80 miles an hour.
Just wall, wall, wall.
You're in there like John Goodman
in Raising Arizona...
just driving.
Like, how many times
are you gonna go to Home Depot
to build this thing?
You actually think
you're gonna get this done?
Look at the Freedom Tower.
We actually wanted that shit
and it took almost 15 years
to get it done.
Half the people
don't even want this fucking thing.
I'm telling you,
by the time they've finished it,
this country will be so fucked up,
we're gonna be the ones going over it.
"Dude, they got... they got real sugar!"
"They got real sugar in their Coke!"
"I heard, on the other side,
the Orange Crush
tastes like it did in 1978."
Remember that two-year period
when it was actually delicious?
Yeah. So you've got him
and then you've got Hillary.
Hillary's just like a made guy.
Just a made-fucking-guy.
Everybody thinks, like, you know,
she dresses like a real-estate agent.
You know? Nothing to worry about.
She's a fucking made guy.
She's gonna give 'em the wars,
she's gonna microchip the babies,
phase out the cash.
She's not gonna do it, but she's gonna
keep steering it in that direction.
Privatizing water.
Water's not a basic human right.
She's gonna...
go through the whole fucking thing,
that psycho fucking thing that you do
when you go after that kind of power.
You've got to put it all over here
in a little box, all your evil,
as you're just sitting there,
fucking smiling,
knowing what's really going on.
As you're talking to Joe Sixpack.
He puts his pants on one leg at a time.
No, it's so fucking, you know...
It's unreal. Like, I don't know...
These are the two worst choices ever.
Trump, if he wasn't...
if he wasn't so fucking racist...
If he wasn't so racist...
I can deal with the pussy-grabbing.
That's not in my world.
I'm selfish, like every other voter,
all right?
If he wasn't so fucking racist...
he would actually scare me a little less,
because he's so obviously a dope.
He's so dumb, I don't think
he could get away with anything.
You know what he reminds me of?
Have you ever watched Law & Order
and they make an arrest, like,
within the first 15 minutes, you know,
and they're trying to get you to think,
"We got him!"
You're just looking at your watch.
"There's no way this guy did this shit."
"There's, like, another 45 minutes left."
"This can't be the guy.
Who's the real guy?"
And that's when fucking Hillary,
she fucking comes walking in.
Yeah, she goes to those
Bilderberg meetings, you know,
where they dress up like pheasants
and they fuck each other.
Sacrifice some employee from a Best Buy.
Fight over his name tag for a trophy.
Who do you pick? I've got no idea.
So I've just been, like, regressing.
I can't deal with this shit.
I just want to hit pause.
I don't want this election to fucking
happen, so I've just been regressing,
and I'm just watching
the dumbest shit I possibly can.
You know, morning time,
those stupid talk shows
to get soccer moms' day started.
You know,
they have all those non-thinking stories.
"You love him. He's your best friend.
But did you ever wonder,
what does your dog do
when you're not home?"
"The next video may surprise you."
And I just... "Fill it up!
Fill up my brain with this dumb shit!
I don't want to deal with
what's really going on."
"Nationwide heroin epidemic? Fuck that!"
"It's National Taco Day.
We've got Tony from Tony's Taco.
Tony, what is it that makes a great taco?"
"Well, it's all about starting out
with the tortilla."
Like, watching them making pancakes
and all that shit.
Talking to the ladies,
talking about body issues.
They always talk about body issues.
That's the dumbest one ever,
when they talk about Hollywood.
"Hollywood, they create these impossible
body images. Blah-blah-blah."
You know, that whole thing.
The plus-size actress.
The fatties.
You know? That's like a big thing.
They're sick of being treated
like fat people.
I don't know what it is.
They're going on the cover of magazines
now, just showing how fat they are,
wearing a little amount of clothes,
and everybody's, like, hyping 'em up.
Like, "Oh, my God. That's so brave!
That's so courageous!"
I'm not saying it doesn't take balls,
but that's a bit of an overreach
with the word "brave," right?
Like, what am I supposed to do if I ever
see a fireman running out of a building
carrying a baby and an old lady?
Am I gonna sit there like, "Oh, my God!
You're like a fat actress
that takes her shirt off
to do a magazine shoot
to promote the movie she's in"?
Now, look, I know you're not supposed
to make fun of fat people.
I understand, all right?
I don't know why, though.
Why? They're not a race,
they're not a religion.
It's totally curable.
Eat an apple and go for a walk, you know?
Why are you yelling at everybody else?
What the fuck are you giving me shit for?
All right? You put the cookies in there!
I didn't!
How is this my problem?
Jesus Christ! You ate your way in,
you can walk your way out.
All right?
And just slowly start shedding the pounds.
Shove some fucking lettuce in there
instead of a bunch of Ho Hos
and it's gonna come down,
and then you're
on my side of the fence, right?
Join me. Come on, say it with me.
Shame! Shame!
I know you're not supposed to shame.
You're not supposed to fat-shame,
you're not supposed to slut-shame.
They're, like, shaming shaming.
People aren't supposed to walk around
with any shame.
It's a legitimate human emotion,
but you're not supposed to feel it at all.
You're supposed to just walk around
like a dictator.
You're not gonna feel any shame?
You've never felt shame?
You never had such a bad fucking night,
the next morning, you woke up,
you couldn't even look in the mirror?
When you brush your teeth, you looked up.
You're like, "Oh,
you fucking piece of shit.
Wow! Wow!
Even for you, that was bad.
Lights out, curtains drawn,
until at least two in the afternoon,
before I can even look at you,
you fucking piece of shit!"
Yeah, you're supposed to have no shame?
That's the new world?
You're just gonna walk around,
sucking dick,
you know, eating cookies,
and just show up,
and nobody's supposed to say anything?
No one's supposed to have an opinion?
"Well, that's gonna go off the rails
pretty soon."
I know, it's probably mean
to do this stuff,
but, like, you can only have
so much sympathy.
There's so much stuff you can care about.
You know what happened to me that changed
my life? I did a gig in India. Right?
Unbelievably great people, but some
of the stuff I saw, I'll never forget.
Literally, I did a gig in India,
I saw a toddler take a shit
between two parked cars,
walked away, no pants or parents,
and then disappeared into the crowd
like Hannibal Lecter
at the end of Silence Of The Lambs.
It's one of the most heartbreaking things
I've ever seen in my life.
And then I come back to my country
and it's like,
"The studio said I have to lose 15 pounds
to star in a movie."
Well, then start running, you fat fuck!
That's your big complaint in life?
You know what it is about these fatties?
Do you know what it really is?
They have no respect
for the amount of sacrifice
and dedication it takes
to truly get in, like,
magazine-level shape, which is the...
You ever try to get abs?
You ever tried to get all the abs
down here? You ever tried to do it?
It's fucking impossible!
Past the age of 19,
you can't do it without tons of help.
You've got to buy all these exercise
tapes, you've got to read about nutrition,
you've got to get a personal trainer
having you fucking running along.
You need your own chef.
"Okay, don't eat it yet.
All right, now eat it. Start consuming it.
All right, stop. Slow down.
Stop. Stop. Spit it out! Spit it out!
I told you to stop!
Get on the elliptical!
You liked that Brussels sprout?!
Did you like that?!
'Cause now you're paying for it!"
It's a fucking miserable experience.
Just walking around
and your whole body's eating yourself.
"Do you want some cake?"
"No. No, I'll just take a salad.
Balsamic vinaigrette on the side.
No croutons.
Oh, my God! When is the photo shoot?
I want to kill myself."
It's horrible.
Have you ever tried to get fat?
You don't have to.
It's effortless.
You can fucking lay on your back,
watching your favorite show,
just shoveling shit down your throat.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm getting fat. I'm getting fat."
"You got a trainer?"
"Don't need one. It's natural.
I just eat everything
that makes my sugar/salt go like,
It comes right in,
a nice roll of fucking flab."
No, it's ridiculous. I know nobody wants
to be fat, so I'm not shitting on anyone.
But don't fucking come at me
like it's my problem,
and I need to fucking rewire myself.
No. You're overweight, okay?
There's plenty of things
that can help you out.
Everybody's got something to deal with.
I'm a fucking lunatic with my temper.
This is something I have to deal with.
I do. You know?
You, you can't fucking stop eating
pork chops.
That's something you fucking deal with.
I don't have to completely rewire myself.
You know, it's just a bunch of sixes
pissed off that they're not
getting treated like a ten, you know?
At some point, you've just got
to acknowledge what you are.
You're a six. I'm sorry, all right?
Nobody jerks off to a six.
That's the deal.
Unless you work with her.
If you work with her, you know,
she's got that one outfit,
you know, it just does something for you.
You work in close quarters,
so you know what her shampoo smells like.
There's an intimacy.
There's an intimacy there.
All right?
I don't know what women rub one out to,
but I know it ain't me!
All right? This is a fantasy.
That's why I don't feel bad
about trashing 'em.
It's like, yeah, this is all coming
from... I'm a strong five, all right?
That's where I am,
so I still feel like I'm punching up here.
You know?
Honestly, people,
I'm a bald red-headed male.
You don't think there's a glass ceiling
on the kinds of parts I can get
in Hollywood?
Do you think I'm ever gonna be the lead
in a romantic comedy?
That ain't happening,
even if I'm booking the movie.
I want to make the money back.
That's the thing, it's show business.
There's $1 million on this film, okay?
We're trying to make fucking money.
You just want to show up with
fucking crumbs on the side of your face?
Show up in shape,
looking as fuckable as possible,
know your lines.
Ready to work.
It's called being a professional, right?
Dude, Ben Stiller had abs
in Meet The Parents!
There was no reason for him to do that.
He just knew,
"I'm gonna take my fucking shirt off.
I don't want to get trashed."
He was shredded.
Yeah, go be a fucking postman.
I mean, I don't know what to tell you.
No, this is just the ramblings of someone
who's sliding into
the back nine of his life,
and I'm not understanding
half the shit that's going on, you know?
You know, one of the big things
that really made me feel old
was when McDonald's started making salads.
That literally ripped my heart out.
I'm like, "They're doing what?"
Now they have wraps
and they're doing all of this shit.
You know what it was?
Out-of-shape people complained to them.
"You don't have any healthy options."
It's like, "Dude, this is McDonald's!
This shit is poison!
Who the fuck comes here to get in shape?"
Whenever I get McDonald's,
I have a whole plan.
At my age, I'm 48 years old,
I know what I'm gonna order.
I'm gonna go in there,
it's gonna taste great.
Twenty minutes later,
I'm gonna want to kill myself.
And then I'm gonna go,
"I'm going to the gym tomorrow."
And no matter how much I say that,
I woke up the demon in me.
I woke up the demon,
and all that grease
is just coursing through my veins.
And no matter how much I want to go
to the gym, this other voice is going,
"Dude, get an Egg McMuffin.
Go down there and get an Egg McMuffin."
And I'm gonna sit up
like the Manchurian Candidate.
"We're going to McDonald's."
My in-shape voice is in the back, going,
"No! What are we doing?! Go to the gym!"
And I'm just...
gonna drive right down.
Right? I know what it is.
But somehow out-of-shape people
somehow made them--
They're to fucking blame.
They had to have healthy shit
'cause they're why everybody's fat.
How come they have to do it?
What about Ben & Jerry's? How come they
don't have to put kale in their ice cream?
Why is that?
"Oh, they're a couple of hippies, man.
They're, like, making ice cream."
They're going after big, bad McDonald's.
You know, it's just...
Who the fuck goes to McDonald's
to get in shape?
And don't give me that horseshit
that eating healthy is expensive.
It isn't. Go to a fucking supermarket.
They're throwing the vegetables at you.
"Here's celery.
Get it the fuck out of here!
Seventy cents!
Twenty-five cents for a banana!
Whatever the fuck you want!
Get it out of here... before it goes bad!"
No, it's fucked up. They somehow
convinced them that... You know?
"McDonald's is the reason
why I'm out of shape."
"I would have got a salad,
but you didn't have the option,
so I was like,
"Well, I guess I gotta get 52 Big Macs."
"Thanks a lot, McDonald's!"
It's like, "Dude, you're an adult.
It's not their job to babysit you.
They're a fucking business.
If you order 50 sandwiches,
they're gonna give it to you.
It's your job to not do it,
you fucking dope."
I know. Sorry.
I know.
Dude, McDonald's...
McDonald's exists for two reasons, okay?
It's for drunk people
and it's for children.
All right? That's what this thing is.
You know?
You're in your car,
your kids won't shut the hell up,
you go to the drive-through.
You go to the drive-through,
you get a couple of poison burgers,
you throw it down their throats.
Their little systems can't handle it.
They start...
They start nodding off.
And you're up front, you're bigger.
You can handle a bigger dose of poison.
Do you know what I mean?
Pop in your Def Leppard cassette
and you have a little moment for yourself.
That's what it's for.
It's for your kids
and it's for drunk people.
How many times have you driven out
to a bar going,
"I'm just gonna have one."
All of a sudden, you had, like, 11, right?
And you're hammered,
and you're thinking...
You know, but you're responsible.
You're drunk but you're responsible.
You're like, "Goddamn it,
I drove my car here tonight...
goddamn it, I'm driving it home."
All right?
"I'm not gonna burden this place
of business
by taking up a parking space
in this completely empty parking lot
for the next six hours."
Now, I am not advocating
drinking and driving,
but I will tell you,
there's nothing better
than when all your friends and family
know you're hammered...
There's nothing better
than that walk to the car.
It's incredible.
Women are screaming,
people tearing at your clothes.
You feel like you're in the Beatles.
"Oh, my God! No! Stop him!"
You're like, "No autographs.
I'm sorry. I have to go.
I'll be back. Just... get 'em off me!"
Then you get in the car
and everybody's screaming.
"Get in the fucking car!
You're fine!
I had the car eight years. I know...
I can almost see my house.
Just get in the fucking car.
You're gonna make the cops come!
Get in the fucking car.
I swear to God,
just get in the fucking car.
Oh, take your seat belt off,
you fucking Mary.
I'm going right down the street."
And then what happens?
You get out on the road, you realize
you're way more hammered than you thought.
Who was always there for you?
McDonald's with the drive-through.
The 24-hour drive-through.
You could just pull in
and hide in plain sight, right?
And that little sad traffic jam
of divorcees, shut-ins,
people who go to Comic-Con, right?
You just pull in...
and just stop.
You can take a little nap.
It's like...
"Thank you! Thank you! Right."
You'd pull around.
That's what it was all about.
And now, all of a sudden,
they're the reason
this country's out of shape, you know?
They've had McDonald's my whole life.
People weren't this fucking fat, right?
It's not their fault.
You can't pin it on 'em.
But McDonald's fucked up.
They fucked up, because they gave in
to out-of-shape people, and they said,
"All right, fine, it's our fault.
We'll start making salads."
And then they got on their heels.
They got on their heels,
everybody sensed it,
and now look at them.
Okay? Four or five years later,
now they got to make breakfast all day.
Because you know what happened.
All the potheads showed up.
"Hey, man,
if you're gonna make him a salad, like...
like, what if I want,
like, a breakfast thingy
and it's not breakfast? Like..."
"You're gonna hook him up,
but you're not gonna hook me up?
That's, like, food racism or something,
man. I just don't understand."
They're like,
"Fine! We'll start making breakfasts."
They just completely lost their way.
I swear to God, dude, if I was running
that corporation, this is what I would do.
I'd bring that clown back.
All right?
I'd bring the clown back, okay,
and I'd just have that thing just look
right down the barrel of the camera,
have a little bit of dry ice
in the background.
You come right in tight on his face.
He just looks right in the camera
and goes, "Look...
if you can't get your fat ass down here...
by 10:30 in the morning...
you're getting a burger."
"All right?"
"No. No.
The clown ain't finished!"
"I'm not making pancakes
at three o'clock in the afternoon
because you did blow all night
with your friends
and you're just getting
your shit together, all right?
Make no mistake, this is a burger joint.
It's always been a burger joint.
We did that breakfast thing as a favor.
We were just trying to freak out IHOP.
'Oh, we're doing it, too!
We're doing it, too!'
Your own mother won't make you pancakes
at three o'clock in the afternoon, okay?
So get your fat ass or your drugged-up
ass down here before 10:30.
We decide. It's our place.
We tell you what the fuck we're making,
all right?"
That's it.
Take him out,
then he pushes a kid on a swing.
Something nice.
by the time this special comes out,
another election will have come and gone,
and it's just...
God knows who we picked.
It's another one, they're not gonna
fucking talk about anything.
The oceans are dying. They just said
the Great Barrier Reef is dead.
You know? Genetically altered food.
There's too many fucking people.
I don't even know... They're just talking
about a bunch of shit. You know?
Bruce has to drop a deuce.
Where is he gonna go?
Which bathroom should this guy use?
I don't give a shit.
This guy has enough money
to literally have a porta-potty rickshaw
running behind him.
How are you going to eliminate...
a couple billion fucking people?
Do you ever think about that shit?
You know, they never talk to us about it.
You know they do behind closed doors.
A bunch of creepy dudes all sitting around
some giant table.
Right? They probably talk about it then.
Just sitting down after, like...
"I trust everyone had their fun?"
"Let's get down to the task at hand.
There are over 7.5 billion people
on the planet.
We're running out of fresh water.
There won't be enough chicken...
to feed the others.
Does anyone here have any suggestions...
on how to eliminate the pressures
of the undesirables?"
"Ah, yes, you.
Number four.
You may speak."
"Well, you know, what uh...
What if we, like,
slowly cooked 'em at the airport?
You know?
Just throwing it out there.
What if you had
a revolving-door-looking thing,
you made 'em take their shoes off,
they got in and they stood up like that?
And you just radiate 'em
from head to toe...
once on the way out,
once on the way back."
"Oh, yes. Yes!
I like that. I like the sound of that.
And how would that work?
Would you have it on low at first,
sear them like a tuna steak?
They don't understand.
You let the children go.
We'll use them for slaves later, right?
No old people. They'll die soon.
Just people in the prime of their life.
And gradually, over the years,
you increase it
and they start frothing at the mouth.
They don't recognize their children.
The property comes back to us!"
I trust everyone at this table
flies private?"
Dude, my wife thinks I'm out of my mind
because I think shit like that.
But I think I'm right.
Dude, I know they think about it.
I know they think about it,
because I think about it.
Every time I land in a city
and it's two o'clock in the afternoon,
I'm just driving down the street and I'm
in the middle of a fucking traffic jam,
that inner Mussolini
comes out of me, right?
Like, "What are all these people doing
in my road?!
They must be eliminated!"
I don't know.
Like, how do you not fucking bring it up?
It's 'cause it would freak everybody out,
you know,
that you have to start
maybe taking some measures... start thinning out the herd.
Do you feel that?
That's right. That's right, yeah.
And what do you think, dude?
You think you're gonna...
You think you're in
the fucking upper tier?
You're in the...
You're in the luxury boxes, yeah?
You spend a lot of time with yourself.
You're doing a lot of nodding.
"I like what I think.
I like what I think a lot.
What I think is the way it should be."
I understand what that's like.
I live this fucking isolated life, man.
I go on the road, I'm in green rooms,
and I just fucking, you know...
I'm just by myself all the time.
You slowly go fucking crazy.
I did a gig recently. I was in Ireland
and I was in the green room by myself.
I went to turn on the light.
It was one of those pull switches.
It wound up around itself,
looked like a little noose.
I immediately thought, "What if I
stuck my head in there and just..."
"...and just turn the lights out?"
literally and figuratively.
I was not thinking
about killing myself at all.
The second I thought,
"What if I just fucking did that?"
And then I looked in the mirror,
I caught my eye and we both laughed.
Yeah. I had this wonderful little moment
with myself.
No words needed to be spoken.
You know?
Yeah. So I think about the population
all the time, as you can tell.
On my specials,
I'm always talking about it.
I think I got the plan, 'cause I know--
No. Wait until you hear the plan first,
'cause a lot of people are gonna die.
Before you start hootin' and hollerin'.
Everybody thinks
they're gonna fucking make it, right?
This is how you do it.
Well, this is how I would do it.
First of all,
you've got to become a dictator, okay?
Because it's too late to be like,
"Hey, man, maybe just have a couple..."
It's too fucking late.
Someone's got to have the balls
to take out the sickle...
...and start chopping some heads.
So, here's my idea.
I become dictator. Obviously you've got
to murder everybody in power, right?
From the head
all the way down to their goldfish,
you've got to kill everyone in the family
so they don't come back for their revenge,
like in Godfather II or every karate movie
you've ever seen, right?
You've got to do it
the way the Russians did,
where you don't find the skulls
for 100 fucking years.
That's the way you do it.
Then you take control of the media.
I keep all of you guys media blacked out.
You don't know what's going on
unless I want you to know it, right?
Big pictures of me.
You've got to sing songs about me.
If there's no passion in it,
a black van pulls up
and you're never seen from again.
All right?
I figure three to six months of that,
everybody gets on the same page,
and that's when I'd start thinning it out.
This is how I would do it. I would just
start randomly sinking cruise ships.
Just hear me out. It's the way to go.
It's the way to go.
You get 2,500 to 3,000 people a whack.
And I think it's a really good mix
of people to get rid of.
You know?
Think about the kinds of people
that take a cruise.
These aren't forward thinkers.
These aren't seekers.
They're not pivotal to our survival.
You ever hear somebody
coming back from a cruise?
It's one of the worst stories
you're ever gonna hear.
Because they don't do shit.
They don't want to travel to another
country, interact with a new culture,
try to figure out the train system
or the money.
All they want to do
is just sit on a fucking boat.
Just drinking. That's all they want to do.
Right? Worst story you'll ever hear.
"Hey. How was your cruise?"
"Oh, it was great.
I was fucking laying there.
There was a DJ over here
on the one-and-the-two wooka-wooka thing.
And then they had this chocolate fountain.
It was like a fountain,
but it was chocolate!
And you stuck the toothpick in the food,
and you stuck it in the chocolate,
and you stuck it in your mouth."
Then, 'I want another drink!'
Then they bring it, you drink it,
it dribbles down
and it gathers in your navel.
You punch yourself...
to get it in your mouth."
Then, every day around noon,
we line up for lunch.
What's for lunch? We don't know.
We don't make decisions.
Whatever they give us.
I like all-inclusive,
you just have to think once.
Can I write that number
on this piece of paper?
All right, tell me where to go."
I'm telling you, if you guys
could just get past the humanity
of what I am suggesting...
If you could just get past it
and maybe lose a couple of friends
here or there...
I am telling you, you wouldn't miss them.
You know when you'd miss 'em?
When you went to a baseball game
and there wasn't those 100 people in the
upper deck trying to get the wave going.
You wouldn't have people getting mad
'cause someone's sitting during a song,
like, "That's offensive to me,
even though I don't know the issue!"
Nashville, a little pull back on that one.
A little pull back.
It's about police brutality.
It has nothing to do with you and your
beautiful white world, and mine, right?
Just let it go. I don't give a fuck if you
watched every episode of McHale's Navy.
This is still not about you.
It's not a military issue.
I'm telling you, you wouldn't fucking
miss 'em. And this is the deal, all right?
I wouldn't just give the order
to start sinking these cruise ships
and then retire to my chambers
with my mistresses and my whores.
Just banging away,
wearing the whole uniform.
The whole dictator uniform.
Everything except for the pants. Right?
Compression socks with sock garters,
just banging away.
My honorary medals
just clanging off my chest.
The big thing is to see how long
I could fuck and keep the hat on.
Like, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
No, you can't do that.
That brings resentment amongst your men.
You've got to lead them into battle,
and I would.
I would. I'd have my own sub. All right?
I'd have my own sub
and I would hunt these cruise ships
on a moonlit summer night.
That's right. On a moonlit summer night,
when sound carries.
You know, those summer nights
when your neighbor's talking about you.
He doesn't think you can hear him.
You're on your porch. "Is that how it is?"
"So that's how it is, right?"
One of those nights.
And I'd be a sport about it.
I'd surface before I did it.
I'm armed, they're not.
It's only fair, right?
If they see me,
I give them a little wink, a little nod.
I'd have a little Red Baron class.
"All right, get the fuck out of here."
Right? But if you didn't see me,
it would be game on.
And every moonlit summer night,
every summer I would go out to harvest.
That would be the deal.
I would just surface.
"And listen for the music, yeah?"
"Fire one."
"Dude, look at my arms in this tank top."
And then you cruise over,
you strafe all the survivors.
"Bring it around!"
That would be it.
Twenty-five hundred to 3,000 less people.
And you know what's the greatest thing?
It's all underwater.
All the evidence is gone.
All the evidence is gone.
Every mass murderer throughout time
has fucked up.
They did it on land.
You're gonna get caught.
Where are you gonna put
all of that, right?
You do it out to sea.
It all goes under, you know?
Nobody knows. "I don't know what happened.
I have no idea."
No evidence.
No evidence. Maybe...
Maybe, like, a flip-flop, right?
Like an Ed Hardy shirt just...
floating by.
I'm controlling the media
and nobody knows about it, right?
And as I sank the ships,
I would be building exact replicas
at the same time, right?
So I'd be eliminating people
while creating jobs.
You guys have no fucking idea
what's going on.
All of you just realize, like,
"Wow, man, the traffic's easing up.
I'm getting into third gear
at five o'clock at night. This is crazy!
I don't know what's going on,
but this Bill guy's all right.
Another buddy of mine got a job building
ships. Can you fucking believe that?
That industry, it's just blowing up.
It's crazy.
Dude, I want to get a job down there.
They pay great.
You know, make a little extra money.
Who knows? Maybe you and me take a cruise.
We'd have a good time, right?
Get out there."
That's how it would work.
That's how my ethnic cleansing would work.
It wouldn't be based on race or religion.
It would just be based on
people dumb enough
to think that taking a cruise
is actually travelling.
Technically, you're travelling,
but what are you seeing?
Just a bunch... "Look at the water!
Oh, my God!
You can tell that's the Atlantic Ocean.
That definitely does not look like
the Pacific Ocean."
Yeah, look, admittedly,
I'm a fucking psycho.
And uh...
Oh, yeah. Dude, I have dreams...
I had a dream two years ago
that still haunts me. You know?
You ever have one of those dreams
where you think you woke up but didn't?
You're just sitting up and it feels
like... I had one of those dreams, right?
So I just sat up in bed,
and I looked over,
and there was a little girl in the corner.
No idea who she was.
She was, like, three, four years old.
And she was talking to me, but I couldn't
understand what she was saying.
She was standing in the corner, going...
I was like, "What?"
"What did you say? I...
I can't hear you, sweetheart.
You've got to come closer."
She walked halfway to the bed.
She was nodding her head, going...
Big, like, The Grudge eyes. I'm just...
"You've got to come closer."
She walks up to the bed.
I was like, "I couldn't hear you,
sweetheart. What did you say?"
And she just nods and just goes,
"You're gonna kill yourself."
I just sat up, like...
I'm like, "No, I'm not!
No, I am not!"
My wife wakes up. "What's the matter?"
"I just had the most scary dream I've ever
had in my life! It was horrible!"
She's like, "Was I in it?"
"No, you self-centered jackass!
Jesus Christ!
Not everything is about you, sweetheart.
I love you, but it's not all about you.
Now, shut up. I'm gonna..."
I tried to go to sleep
in the same position
so I'd run into that little girl again,
so I could,
"Look, you little shit, you don't
go around saying that to people!"
Now, I'm not gonna kill myself.
I don't know what that dream meant,
because you dream in metaphors, man.
You know? I don't know.
It just freaks me out, though, you know?
It disturbs my wife and shit.
But there is one good thing about
being a psycho.
You know,
a great thing about being a psycho
is you can spot another psycho
from a mile away.
You know? That's a really great thing.
I can spot 'em.
You know, it's in the eyes.
Never look at the costume.
Nice people look at the costume.
They'll see somebody in, like, dad jeans,
you know, pushing their kid on the swing,
the whole nerdy sweater.
"Hey! How are you doing?
Can you believe the summer's already over?
I mean, this is crazy, right?
Oh, this one here
has got me running around, you know?
She's running the house!
She's running the house."
People are always like,
"Oh, my God. He's so nice.
Such a great family man."
And I'm just sitting, thinking in my head,
dude, that guy is a fucking psycho!
He's a psycho!
Look at his eyes. You don't see that?
That dude is barely hanging on!
He is white-knuckling it through all
the shit he thinks he's supposed to do.
All that fucking guy needs, all he needs,
he just needs a little nudge.
That's it, just a little nudge.
You have no idea
what that guy's capable of.
I would not want to see the hard drive
of that man's computer, I'm telling you.
Yeah, so I do it all the time.
I'm pretty good at picking out psychos,
and it drives my wife nuts.
I remember she was one of the first people
that got into Kanye West, right?
The great Kanye West.
Everybody loves him and stuff, right?
Oh, shut up. Jesus Christ.
Why did I come to Nashville?
"Boo! It's a black artist!
You're bringing it up in the Ryman.
What the fuck?
It's the Grand Ole Opry, man!
It's not MTV Raps!"
But I'm stereotyping you.
I'm acting like 'cause you're
from the South, you're racists,
like all the racists are just down here.
That isn't true.
You know, they're all over the place.
It's just different degrees.
Like, me, I'm racist, like,
at the end of the day.
Like, I'm a great fucking guy,
I don't give a shit who you are
in the morning.
You're eating your cereal.
"Hey! How are you? What's going on?"
But as the sun starts to go down
and the fear starts coming up,
that's when you start thinking
the worst of people, right?
I know, nobody's gonna be honest.
I don't give a fuck who you are.
Twelve, midnight,
in a parking garage by yourself,
whatever is walking at you,
there's no happy thoughts.
You're not thinking, "Oh, that guy,
he's probably uh...
he's probably building a website and..."
You're not thinking that.
That dude's gonna cut me up, eat me.
Whatever he doesn't eat, he's gonna fuck.
That is what you think, right?
All right?
But if you do that at night,
that's normal, I think, because it's fear.
It's the people at breakfast
that are already just sitting there, like,
"Fucking Jews!"
You know, that's when you've got an issue.
So, anyway... I've just got to do this.
When you talk about race and that shit
as a white dude, you've got to go easy.
You know, because very easily it starts
feeling like a meeting. You know?
Whenever I start hearing, like,
"Yeah! All right! Whoo!"
That's when I go, "I've got to pull back.
People aren't seeing what I'm saying.
I wore a country shirt.
Things are getting
a little off the rails here."
Can I get back to Kanye West?
Half of you have probably downloaded his
shit. All right? All right, here we go.
So, my wife got freaked out because...
Early on, she was loving the guy.
And I was thinking he was cool.
Then, one day, I saw him do an interview.
He was talking shit
about how great he was,
and there was just this look that was
in his eye, and it just made me nervous.
I'm like, "Dude, this guy is uh...
This guy is, like...
This guy is volatile, man.
There's something with this guy.
He's making me nervous.
This guy is, like, right on the edge of,
like, snapping, right?"
She goes, "You're out of your mind."
I was thinking, "I don't know.
I think this guy is fucked up."
Then I was convinced,
because one day I came walking in,
she was listening to him do an interview,
and I didn't know it was him.
He was talking about how great he was,
and I came walking in,
and all I did was hear this shit.
And, like, literally,
a chill ran down my spine,
and I just started thinking,
like, "No! No! No!"
And I turned, and I looked.
Before it even registered
that it was Kanye,
my first thought was, "Oh, thank God.
Oh, thank God. It's just a black guy."
"Thank God!
It's just a black guy."
Yeah, I know, you're right to pull back.
It's right to get awkward,
you don't know where this could go.
This could very easily go
in a Klan-ish direction, okay?
So just let me clarify.
Just hear me out.
I'm thinking,
"Thank God it's a black guy,"
"Thank God that ego that is in him..."
When that thing floated down
from the heavens,
or the cosmos,
whatever the hell Joel Osteen shit
you believe...
All right?
When that thing was floating down,
it could have landed in anybody.
Thank God...
it landed in a black guy.
Thank God it got wrapped up in that,
trapped within that.
It's safe in there.
No reason to worry when it's in there,
because if that ego, however,
had floated down...
and landed in a blue-eyed white dude,
there is no telling
the damage that could have been done.
You're talking
entire civilizations wiped out...
worldwide famine,
the moon colliding with the Earth.
Thank God that ego landed in a black guy.
Because he's just as nuts as some of
the craziest white dudes of all time,
he just doesn't have the opportunity
to follow through with the madness.
Yeah, there's a glass ceiling on evil.
You never noticed that?
Dude, go home, put on the History channel.
Like, the top nine out of ten
most batshit-crazy dudes
who ever walked the earth
are all white dudes.
Now, why is that? Because white dudes
are more evil than anybody else?
It's a possibility.
It's a possibility.
We've definitely got the numbers.
But I think it's different.
You know what it is?
Nobody's watching white dudes. Right?
White dudes, too many of 'em gather
and somebody pulls up,
"All right, break it up! Keep it moving!
Get out of here!"
Getting pulled over for no fucking reason,
none of that shit.
You're a white dude.
It's just an open field.
Anything you think,
"Hey, I'm gonna do that."
No one's stopping you. You just...
You just start running.
Next thing you know,
you're handing out buttons,
you've got your own uniform.
You're starting a fucking war, right?
All Kanye West is allowed to do
is fuck up an award show
every three to four years.
Make a public service announcement
a little awkward for Mike Myers.
That's as far as he's ever gonna get.
I know, I know. You don't believe me.
Dude, okay,
next time Kanye's going off on himself,
I'm telling you,
just close your eyes, forget it's him
and really listen
to what is coming out of this guy's mouth.
He says shit like, "I'm a genius."
"I'm a god. I'm Shakespeare."
"My biggest regret is I'll never get
to see myself perform live."
That's a direct quote.
"My biggest regret is I'll never get
to see myself perform live."
Dude, you put that ego in a white dude,
then it's...
"...and the blitzkrieg,
and the superior race!"
"Vienna will return to Deutschland first!"
No, I'm telling you. But we're okay.
We're okay. It's in a black guy.
Nothing's gonna happen.
You never noticed that shit?
Crazy black guys, as far as they can get,
they can just freak people out
in the subway.
They can stand on a street corner
with their book and their friends,
just yelling about white people.
"These people got tails!
The motherfuckers got tails!
They're evil!"
You just cross the street.
That's it.
In a perfect world, Hitler never would
have made it past the subway level.
That's as far as he ever would have got.
You would have been on the train.
"What are you gonna do tonight?"
"Play a little fantasy football."
The door would just open.
He'd come walking through.
"And they should have
the blue eyes and the blonde hair,
and the pubes like the sun!"
And you're just sitting there.
"Just ignore him. Let him pass through.
Let him pass through."
And he'd just walk into the other part
of the train.
Literally, a world war
just passing through.
But he was a white dude,
no one watched him
and his hair was flopping around,
and nobody gave a fuck.
All right?
So that's kind of like the weird lesson...
that I learned with Kanye West.
You know?
Like, every once in a while, racism works.
Like, 99.9 per cent of the time,
it's the ugliest thing we do
to one another,
but every once in a while we get lucky
and that marble,
it just rolls into the right hole
and we get off easy.
We got off easy with that guy.
I've got to commend you guys.
You did well with the Hitler reference.
You did all right.
Nothing quiets a room
like dropping the H-bomb.
You bring up Adolf Hitler,
it gets fucking quiet, to this day.
This dude, fucking, he died, like, what,
75 fucking years ago, allegedly.
You know?
Some think he went down
to South America...
"And why are they so brown?"
...for the rest of his life.
At this point, even if he lived,
he's fucking dead, right?
We can go with that, right?
But still, to this day, though,
even though he died
let's say 75-fucking-years ago,
he's still the benchmark for evil.
Have you ever noticed that?
He is the reference.
Any time you want to say somebody's evil,
you just say, "He is the next Hitler."
"Donald Trump, he's the next Hitler."
"Saddam Hussein, he's the next Hitler."
It's always, "He's the next Hitler," okay?
I don't know what the fuck they used
to say before Hitler came around, right?
"He's the next Genghis Khan."
"He's the next Napoleon."
I don't know, Ivan the Terrible.
I don't know what they said.
But whatever they used to say,
he wiped them all out.
He was so fucked up,
it's like what they did
didn't even exist any more.
All right? It's like when Michael Jordan
came into the NBA.
He was so fucking good...
he wiped out everyone.
No one ever goes, "He's the next Dr. J."
"He's the next Wilt." No one says that.
It's always, "He's the next Mike."
Adolf Hitler
is the Michael Jordan of evil.
He is.
Like, Nike literally should have made him
a sneaker, like a giant fucking boot.
You know, it's all stiff around your knees
so you get that walk going down.
Like, if there was an evil hall of fame,
you've got to put Hitler in.
He's first-ballot hall-of-fame evil.
Okay? Undeniable stats.
He's got the career numbers. You know?
Six to nine million dingers,
you're getting in.
You're getting in.
People, its a sports analogy.
I'm not advocating what the man did.
Can we all be adults here? All right?
Am I gonna be on a split screen
tomorrow morning with some blogger?
On some Good Morning, Nashville show.
"Comedy: Can it go too far?
Last night at the Ryman Theater..."
"...making fun of fat people,
sinking cruise ships was all fine.
Suddenly, it took a horrible,
horrible turn.
local blogger Maggie Maggenhall
was on the scene.
Maggie, can you describe
what you were subjected to...
during last night's horrible rant?"
"Well, first of all, everybody that knows
me knows I have a great sense of humor.
I think this is funny,
I think that is funny,
but that, last night, that was not funny."
It always goes down like that.
They always have to establish
what a wonderful sense of humor they have.
No, it's a sports analogy.
Six to nine million.
He got all of that one!
He had power from both sides of the plate.
He'd have his own fucking wing.
But this is what kills me about Hitler.
Killed six to nine million people.
Meanwhile, Stalin killed 20 to 25 million,
basically over the exact same period,
Yet, he cannot get arrested
in the conversation of most
fucked-up dude who ever walked the planet.
It's always, "He's the next Hitler.
He's the next Hitler."
Well, how many fucking people
do you have to kill
just to get a little shout-out,
a little tip of the cap?
"What do you think of this guy?"
"He's the next Hitler."
How about, every once in a while,
"This guy's a little Stalin-esque"?
"I see a little Jo-Jo in this guy." Right?
He almost tripled his fucking numbers.
He gets brought up like he was a backup!
Why don't his kills count?
Does anybody...
Anybody, why doesn't his fucking kills
count? I don't get it.
Is it because he just looked like
some regular guy, your neighbor?
You know, driving a little John Deere.
"I just killed a million Ukrainians."
He just drives around his yard.
Is that what it is?
I think it is. Hitler just...
I don't know, he just looked the part.
He's like... From central casting,
you couldn't pick
a more evil-looking dude.
Like, go home tonight,
google pictures of Adolf Hitler.
Get put on the same watch list
that I'm on, all right?
I'm telling you, there's not one
cute picture of that guy his whole life.
It's just all pure evil.
There's no, like, teenage boy-band years,
You google a picture of Adolf as a baby.
You look at that thing, you're like,
"Dude, drown that fucking thing! Drown it!
Take it down to the river,
stick it under a rock.
If you don't do it, I'm gonna fucking
do it. I swear to God, it's looking at me.
I would kick it right in its baby chest...
and feel no guilt whatsoever."
Dude, Hitler is actually so evil,
he actually makes me want to learn how
to speak German.
You know what I mean?
I just want to know, what the fuck was he
saying to those people? Every speech.
He's so clearly out of his fucking mind.
It's got to be what he's saying.
What the fuck did he say?
There's no way he said
what he planned on doing from the get-go.
Some unknown candidate,
right, early on...
"Okay, our next speaker coming
to the stage..."
" possibly run Deutschland
for the foreseeable future.
His name is um...
Oh, dear. I left my glasses backstage.
Is that Alan? Is it Alan?
Oh, Adolf. Adolf, okay.
Oh, okay, okay.
Whoa. This guy's got a bee in his bonnet.
Okay, please welcome Adolf Hitler.
You got three minutes, buddy."
"And I'm going to kill millions of people!
I know what they should look like--
the eyeballs a centimeter apart!
I have the outfits
for the rest of the people!"
Dude, you can't come out of the gates...
talking to a crowd like that.
You're gonna freak 'em out.
You can't go that hard in the beginning.
You know? You can do that in the woods
with a couple of drinking buddies.
Freaking people out. "Hey, Matt, relax.
There's girls here. Jesus Christ."
"I think I've got a shot here. I'm trying
to get laid. Can you just be a wingman?
For once in your life,
dude, can you just be a...
Just bring the energy down. Nobody gives
a fuck about your fucking theories, okay?
Just be a chill guy.
You've got shit on your mouth.
Either grow a moustache or don't.
You look ridiculous.
I'm sorry, ladies.
He gets a little excited."
What I think he was doing,
I think he was just being
a crowd-pleasing hack, if I had to guess.
He was telling Germans
what they wanted to hear.
"And we have the best cars,
we have the best women.
Oktoberfest is the shit!"
He's just shooting free T-shirts up.
Fucking armbands. Right?
I don't know.
It's something that's always bothered me.
Not always, just recently.
If this guy kills six to fucking nine,
we definitely don't want
another one of those.
Well, what about this guy?
Twenty to fucking 25.
You know?
What it is, there's probably a couple
of egghead history majors going,
"Well, Bill, if we're gonna go around
the world, you know,
what about that dude Mao from China?
He allegedly killed 50-60 million people.
What about that guy?
How come you don't bring him up?"
Simple. I don't count those kills.
I don't. I don't count 'em.
Dude, there's, like,
a billion people in China.
You wipeout on a scooter,
you're gonna kill 80 not even trying.
Fifty to 60 million,
that's like steroid-era stats.
Like, get the fuck out of here.
What are you on?
Come on.
Am I supposed to believe that number?
That's like when a second baseman had,
like, 50 jacks.
Dude, you had 20 in high school.
Get the fuck out of here, 50 homeruns!
I don't get it. I just don't get why...
What I feel, whenever I do this bit,
I always feel the crowd,
you guys just don't like a sports analogy.
You know?
Let's go music, all right?
It's Nashville.
We'll look at it in a musical way.
All right? Okay.
Hitler drops an album.
He sells six to nine million copies.
All right? He's got a couple of
summertime jams, maybe a prom song.
He just catches a moment.
He has his own dance,
like "Gangnam Style,"
except it's got a little more
with the hands.
It's more of an upper-body song.
Then, later on that summer,
Stalin drops his new shit.
He sells 20-25 million copies.
Twenty to 25 million copies
is Michael Jackson Thriller, okay?
One of the greatest artists,
one of the greatest albums of all time.
Six to nine million in sales,
that's like Hootie & The Blowfish
Cracked Rear View Mirror.
Now, if you guys were at home
in your apartment or your fucking barn,
whatever it is you do down here...
...sitting there with your lantern...
and you're sound asleep...
next to your favorite bale of hay.
You're sound asleep...
and someone runs in
at three in the morning.
"Dude, run down to the bar! It's the next
Michael Jackson, I swear to God!"
You would consider it.
"Michael Jackson,
I've got to fucking see that."
But if somebody woke you up, like,
"Dude, you've got to see this guy!
He's the next Hootie & The Blowfish!"
You'd smash him over the head with your
fucking lantern, or whatever you've got.
Why don't his fucking kills count?
Dude, Stalin,
he even killed his own friends.
Hitler didn't even do that.
You go duck hunting with Stalin.
You thought you were in with him.
He's taking pictures with you and shit.
It's all fucking good, right?
Then, a week later, you parted your hair
a little bit different, he got paranoid,
and that was it, he whacked you.
That's it.
Not only that, he then had you erased
out of the photo.
You know? Next thing you know, Stalin's
hugging a tree or some shit like that.
This guy was photoshopping people
out of photos...
like, 60 years before
the technology existed.
He changed the fucking game!
Yeah. So, I watch
a lot of the YouTube videos, right?
So, the other night, my wife,
lovely wife, she's falling asleep.
I can't because I'm all scatterbrained,
so I just start watching YouTube clips.
Okay? And I ended up seeing this clip
of this lady down at the zoo. All right?
This lady down at the zoo,
who I'm sure wasn't making as much money
as the guy who worked at the zoo,
and that's what needs to stop.
Ladies, did you ever think
of opening your own zoo? You know?
Is there a reason you wait until
we build the whole fucking thing,
and then you show up
when all the hard work is done?
All the animals are captured.
"Hey, where's my fucking corner office?!"
Start your own fucking zoo!
Go out and catch a cobra, see how that is.
That's not the point of this story.
I just like...
I just like being a dick sometimes.
So, this lady down at the zoo.
This lady down at the zoo, she taught
this gorilla how to do sign language.
Okay? And I don't just mean like "hello"
and "goodbye."
Like, literally phrases.
This thing could, like,
talk about its emotions.
They were actually conversing.
The gorilla is talking to her.
"Oh, my God. You look upset."
"Oh, I'm kind of sad."
And they're just talking.
So immediately, like,
my brain just went fucking crazy.
I was like, "Oh, my God.
She's talking to a gorilla.
I love gorillas.
Who wouldn't talk to a gorilla?"
Without thinking that my wife is sleeping,
I just blurted out,
"Ask it how much it can bench!
Ask it how much it can bench!"
My wife pops up. "What are you doing?"
I'm like, "Look at this! Look!
She's talking to a gorilla!"
And we both just got sucked
into this thing. Right?
So, long story short,
she's talking to this gorilla,
and one day she decides
to get it a little kitten.
A little kitty cat, right?
Immediately I'm thinking, like,
"Don't get it a cat! It's a gorilla."
It's gonna twist the thing's head off,
throw the body over there,
play with the head for a while.
Sniffing it and stuff.
And then, later, it's gonna walk over
and set the head down next to the body
and wonder why the whole thing's
not getting up again.
Because it's a fucking gorilla.
It's a wild animal.
Wild animals don't have pets, right?
It's kill or be killed out there.
That's it.
They don't have little parakeets
on their shoulders and shit.
But it was the exact opposite.
She gives it this little kitten,
and it immediately understood
it was a baby,
and this, like, parental thing came over.
It was so, like, gentle
and filled with joy.
It was, like, beautiful, right?
And then they understood
that it loved this kitten,
and they started using it
as, like, a teaching tool, right?
So every night they take the cat back,
all right, and the next day they come in.
If the gorilla learned its phrases,
it got to play with the kitten.
They use it as a motivational tool.
So the gorilla's vocabulary
started going through the roof.
All right? So, to cut to the chase,
one night they take the cat home.
Somehow, the little kitten gets out.
It got hit by car and it died.
Yeah, that cat you never met died.
I'm sorry for your loss.
I know you knew it, all of it,
for fucking 20 seconds.
You know?
I don't know if it was dead instantly,
like if it drove right over its head
and that was it.
Or maybe it just hit the back legs
and it tried to crawl away,
but it was...
it was, like, stuck to the road,
and it was... it was meowing out
and it could see its breath.
And right before it lost consciousness,
the rats came in,
and it was...
it was just screaming, and in such...
Cute little paws, it was like
little socks, trying to get up.
I don't know what happened.
But you seemed so fucking concerned
about this kitten... I figured
I'd throw out a couple of theories.
More concerned about the kitten
than the Hitler shit, by the way.
More of a reaction.
More of a reaction. That's fine.
Every crowd's a little bit different.
That's not the point of the story.
Okay? The point of the story...
was now this lady had to go down
to the zoo,
she had to tell the gorilla
that the kitten was dead, right?
So she comes back down to the zoo,
and the gorilla's all amped up.
This is its favorite part of the day.
Its mind is engaged
and it sees its little friend.
And at this point,
its vocabulary is, like, crazy now.
The lady shows up.
The gorilla's all amped up.
It looks at her like, "Oh, shit!
What's up? Yeah!"
Now, I can't do sign language,
so you have to bear with me
through the rest of this bit.
I'm gonna do the best I can, all right?
So the thing's like, "What's up? Yeah!"
All right?
But the zookeeper lady,
she has, like, you know,
just sitting there all sad,
you know, trying to think
how she's gonna tell it,
and the gorilla picked up on the vibe.
She's kind of like...
All of a sudden,
the gorilla's energy comes down.
She starts looking at the lady, like...
"What's uh...
What's wrong with you?"
"Is there something that I need to know?
So the lady's sitting there, she's like,
Oh, Jesus. Uh..."
Well, the...
the kitty cat...
it got hit by a car...
and it's fucking dead."
And the gorilla immediately took it in.
It immediately took it in. It understood.
Like, its bottom lip started quivering,
its eyes started watering up,
it was signing "crying."
And later on that night,
you could hear it crying
inside of its house.
They built it a house. I don't know why.
They live in trees.
It was probably the guilt of putting
the thing in fucking jail, right?
Whatever. It was a two-bedroom.
It sounded like it was in the kitchen.
And you just hear this thing...
in this house at night, just going...
And that was the end of the video.
That was the end of the video.
And, like you, I was sitting there, like,
"What the fuck?"
"You're gonna end on that?"
And then, literally, right in that moment,
I felt my wife's head
just rest on my shoulder,
and she was like,
"That was so sad.
I mean, it was beautiful,
but it was sad."
And I was just like, "Get off me."
"Just... Just get off me."
And I closed the laptop,
set it down on the nightstand,
and I just got up, and I started pacing.
As this fucking rage was coming up in me,
my wife's, like, freaking out.
She's like, "What's wrong?
What is wrong with you?"
I'm like, "What do you mean,
'What's wrong?' That video is fucked up!"
What is the purpose of that?
You teach a gorilla how to talk,
you're shootin' the shit,
you get it a pet kitten and then it dies.
And then the gorilla cries,
and it's fucking sad, and then that's it?
That's what you're leaving me with?
I've got to have that in my fucking head?
How is that the end of the video?
Somebody, for fuck's sake, tell me.
Dude, that gorilla understood
the concept of death.
If it understands the concept of death,
it understands its own captivity. Okay?
So it never dawned on that lady,
that whole time
she's shootin' the shit with him,
it never dawned on her
to sign to the thing, like, "Hey."
Like, "Do you want to get
the fuck out of here?"
"Do you hate it in here?
Do you want to fucking kill us...
for sticking you in here,
away from your friends in the jungle?"
And the thing would be like, "Yeah!"
"Yeah, please get me out. I beg of you!
It fucking sucks in here!"
Right? And then you
could have brainstormed, right?
"Okay, I'm gonna get you out of here."
The only bad part would be
you'd have to deal with the gorilla
and its crazy fucking gorilla idea.
You know,
like brainstorming its escape plan.
The gorilla would be like,
"Okay, we'll get a bunch of bananas.
We'll throw 'em and distract 'em,
and then we'll climb out
just using our arms."
You literally just have to sit there,
going, like, "Okay. Okay.
Not... Not trying to be a dick, but...
I have a better idea.
No, no, no. No disrespect to you. Okay?"
"But I'm gonna go to Big & Tall.
I'm gonna get a jacket, a hat,
and some fucked-up-looking shoes.
Okay? And what I need from you...
What I need from you, okay...
What I need from you
is you've got to lay off this shit.
All right? No more of this.
Okay? No, no disrespect. Okay?
I need you...
I need you to man up, all right?
Stand up straight.
Arm down. Stand up straight.
Here's the difficult part,
right here, okay?
Left hand, right foot;
right hand, left foot.
You got it?
Bam. Bam.
All right?
You get that shit down,
I'll get you out of here in ten days.
It's gonna be okay. Deal.
Fuck! All right."
"See you in ten days, right?"
So, like, the first day,
the gorilla's sitting there, going, "Okay.
"No. No, no, no. No. No."
"Okay. Okay."
So that's the first day.
That's day one, but the gorilla
keeps working at it, right?
Like, day two -
day two it's kind of getting...
Day three, day five,
day seven, day nine, day ten.
"I'm doing it! I'm fucking doing it!"
Then she could have came back
and broke that gorilla out of jail, right?
Show up at night. "You're doing it!"
Put on the jacket, hat. "Come on!"
You take him down to the car,
the only way to get him back.
You've got to take it by car
down to the harbor.
That's the only way to get it back to
the jungle. You can't go to the airport.
You can't go to the airport,
going through that fucking security.
Once he takes his shoes off
and that thumb comes sticking out,
it's fucking over!
It's over.
You keep it below deck.
You keep the fucking thing below deck
until you get out to international waters.
Then you're fine.
It's captain's law.
"Come aboard," right?
And have the thing sit down.
Other boats going by are looking at you,
like, "Is that a gorilla?"
"Yeah. What have you got, blood diamonds?
Go fuck yourself!"
"Fucking sex slaves? Get out of here!
I'll have him come aboard
and rip that mask right off!"
And you're just hanging with the gorilla.
You get to have that experience of seeing
the thing free for the first time.
As it comes over the horizon,
it finally sees the jungle.
It's getting all excited. It jumps
off the boat, it's rolling in the sand.
"Buddy, we did it! Don't fuck up the coat,
I've got to bring it back. We did it!
All right, I love you. I'll miss you.
Get out of here before they see you."
The thing runs
right to the edge of the jungle
and it just... disappears.
"It did it.
I knew it.
He wanted to go see his friends, man.
He wanted to be free.
It's gonna be fucking great.
He's gonna go meet his buddies,
he's gonna talk to his friends now,
like he should be, right?
He's, uh...
He's gonna go talk to his friends."
"He'll... probably teach them
how to talk."
"Then, of course...
they'll probably get horses.
Did I just start
Planet of the fucking Apes?
He's gonna teach his friends
how to talk and get horses?
Dude, I gotta kill this fucking thing!
I gotta kill it. I fucked up.
I gotta kill it. Sorry.
Where's my Glock?
Where the fuck is my Glock?! Where is it?
It was right here!
It was right here! Fuck!"
Got a little six shooter.
"Fuck it, I'll take this."
You run into the jungle,
but it's a gorilla, so it's long gone.
But you can't give up, man.
All of society's gonna go down on you.
You've got to kill this thing.
So you're just trudging through the jungle
for months.
You get six, seven months in,
you've got, like, malaria,
you're about ready to give up.
And out of nowhere,
your buddy just jumps down, just like...
"Oh, shit!
What the fuck are you doing here?"
Then you just pull out your six shooter.
"I'm sorry, buddy.
I gotta do it."
The gorilla would be like,
I... I thought we were friends.
"Well, you know, 'cause...
'cause Jesus wanted it that way,
you know?"
"There's this whole book.
He made us in his image.
We're just, you know...
We're better than you, you know?
Sorry, I can't have you talking
to other chimps
and then you tear down
the Statue of Liberty."
"Everyone's gonna think I'm an asshole.
Look, I'll make it quick."
And right as you go to pull the trigger,
the gorilla pulls out
that Glock you couldn't find.
"I just...
I just want to know one thing.
How did you know?"
"You knew before I knew."
I don't have an ending for this.
I don't.
And in a weird way,
now you know how I felt..
when I watched that video.
You know what it was?
You know what it was?
I did that joke all around the country,
all right, and the gorilla always died,
'cause Jesus wanted it that way...
and that was it.
And it fucking bombed
in every goddamn city in this country
except for Dallas, Texas.
That was the only place where they got it.
And I'm not shitting on Texas.
It bombed in Houston, Austin,
El Paso, San Antonio.
Killed in Dallas.
They are the only ones who got it.
They were like,
"Hey, man, you did what you had to do.
You did what you had to do, man."
"I mean, I loved that gorilla, too,
but goddamnit,
you cannot have two species
working together.
I tell you right now, you get a couple
of gorillas on a bareback horse
with a single bolt action rifle,
that is the end of society as we know it."
"You should get a hypothetical medal...
for killing that gorilla, hypothetically."
So... All right.
I'm gonna end
with a quick little story here, okay?
They're always talking about how
to make a woman happy,
but they don't do it enough to help you
guys out how to make a man happy.
The great thing about men
is we're fucking simple.
We're fucking simple, okay?
So here's the thing.
You want to make a guy happy?
If you're with a good guy, okay,
this is all you've got to do, okay?
How about four times a year,
once a season...
you go out to the kitchen.
Without him saying shit,
you make a sandwich, you get him a beer,
you walk out, you give it to him,
you don't say a word,
and you just fucking leave.
That's all you've got to do.
Every three months, you do that,
you'll keep him happy.
That's all it takes.
I know right out of the gate
this is coming off sexist,
because I'm saying, "Go out
in the kitchen. Make your man a sandwich."
I'm not saying
women belong in the kitchen,
barefoot and pregnant, rubbing my balls.
I'm not saying that.
I'm just saying, women, go in the kitchen.
Just go in the kitchen
four times in a year, make a sandwich.
A toddler could do that.
Just put it together.
Grab two slices of pre-made,
pre-sliced bread,
two handfuls of pre-murdered meat.
Put a little mustard on it.
Grab a beer, walk out,
just hand it to him, don't say shit,
and then fucking leave.
When I say leave, I mean leave.
I don't mean walk into another room
for, like, ten minutes
and then stick your head back and be like,
"Did you like it? Was it good?
Great, because downstairs we need to...
Don't yell at me!
I just made you a sandwich!"
I don't mean that. I mean leave.
Get in the car
and fucking get out of here.
Take the kids, drive down the street.
Go see Lord Of The Rings
a couple of times,
and leave your man in the stunned silence
of what you just did.
If you ever want to see your guy
get emotional,
to see a man get emotional, you make him
a fucking sandwich that he didn't ask for.
I'm telling you, he's gonna have to dry
the tears with the bread.
He's gonna be so shocked, like...
"You made this for me?
And I didn't even ask.
Oh, my God!
I think she still gives a fuck!"
Quick story. Me and my wife
bought a house in 2011.
And by "me and my wife"
I mean I paid for it.
She hates that joke,
but I don't give a shit.
It's true.
And she's always breaking my balls.
"Don't put your shoes over here.
They belong over there."
"Yeah? Well, I bought over there,
and I bought over here,
so I'll put my fucking shoes
wherever I want to.
Oh, shirt's coming off!
Where's it going?"
So we get into the house.
She's scoping it out,
because she's smart.
She's finding the rooms that get sun,
checking closet space.
Me, like an idiot,
I want to check out the garage.
For whatever reason, I'm drawn to this.
And I go down, I open the door,
and the last people hadn't cleaned it out.
There was a busted refrigerator,
an old file cabinet,
an ab-roller, something from a luau.
There were like seven failed businesses
in this goddamn thing,
and I gotta start lugging this shit out
in, like, 90-degree weather,
as a redhead, hating my life, right?
I got three hours into this job,
my forearms were cut,
I had dirt, sweat, cobwebs all over me.
I wanted to burn down this fucking house.
I was ready to leave.
But out of nowhere, my wife showed up,
big smile on her face,
and she had made me a sandwich.
Cut it in half diagonally,
which is love, right?
If they don't cut it in half,
they might as well frisbee it.
"Here you go, you fucking piece of shit.
Hose yourself off!
You should live out here!
You should live out here!" Right?
Cut it in half diagonally,
poured Fritos in the middle,
and gave me an ice-cold beer.
She did that five years ago.
Do you know, to this day, every once in a
while, I still think about that sandwich.
It's unbelievable.
It just pops in my head
like this fond memory.
I'll just be by myself,
talking in the car.
"Remember that time she made me
a sandwich? It was unbelievable!
She cut it in half, Fritos,
an ice-cold beer. I felt like a king!"
That's all it takes.
You know what it felt like at that moment?
You remember that movie
Shawshank Redemption?
You know that scene where the prisoners
are drinking the beer on the rooftop
with the sun in their face?
That's what it felt like.
The only thing missing
was Morgan Freeman's voice
narrating over the top,
"And for 20 minutes,
Bill Burr felt like a free man."
All right, I'm out of time.
You guys were so awesome.
Thank you so, so much for coming out.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I really had a great time.
Thank you so much.