All language subtitles for Doug Stanhope Beer Hall Putsch (2013)

- We are downstairs

in the Dante's green room

in Portland, Oregon, shortly

before we start taping

the new special,

beer hall putsch.

- What's a putsch?

- Beer hall putsch.

- What's that?

- It was Hitler's
- early failed attempt

At overthrowing

the German government in '24,

where he'd work everyone up

into a lather in the beer hall

with 1,500 people screaming

about the government.

He got them all to race out

into the streets and,

- "we're going to take
- this shit over."

- And then a few people got
- killed,

- So he ran
- like a pussy.

Because this is,

like, ground zero

of when we branched out

to do our own thing,

and it's really cool-looking.

We can't really play here

because we have

too big of a draw.

- So it's nice to be able
- to film here.

- It's dark.
- It's creepy.

It has a history with us.

- It's just...
- It has a good feel.

- And I fucking hate
- doing theaters.

I wish all comedy specials

were filmed in fucking

75-seaters,

like old Lenny Bruce.

Smoky room, low ceiling.

This one's not real low ceiling,

but it's got the feel.

Let's go drink.

Some people say, "yeah.

I don't have to drink

to have a good time."

You go, "okay."

But that means you

have to have a good time

to have a good time.

How do you pull that off?

Just assume the universe knows

it's your Friday

so some organic good time

will swell out of the woodwork

and appear

at a certain time.

You read the weekly and find

the editor's best bet

and you email all your dumb

friends in their cubicles,

"let's meet up.

"We found a local eatery

that's well reviewed.

"It has vegan options

for Sheila.

We'll meet there at 7:40."

"Where is Sheila?

She's late.

"Our sober good time

starts in 40 minutes.

"Call her

on her cell phone.

- Maybe we can
- order for her

- "because we don't want
- to be late

- For our sober good time.
- It starts in..."

Maybe you came here tonight

to have a good time

without drinking.

That means you're solely

reliant on me being funny,

which is a 50/50 shot

at best

in these waning years

of my career.

If I suck, you're fucked.

All that sober good-time

planning and the mapquesting

and the finding the parking.

- And then I just...
- I was off.

- I was too fucked up
- that night, and i...

Now the blame's on you.

I don't take those chances.

I drink to have a good time.

It's a failsafe.

I take whatever mundane shit

I was doing anyway,

and I just start pouring booze

on top of it.

And within a short amount

of time, it's fantastic.

I'm talking to some shingle

salesman in an airport bar,

and he's showing me pictures

of his dogs

on his cell phone camera.

"And that's miss patsy

and this is patriot.

I call him patriot because

I got him at 9/11 and..."

Within five drinks,

that guy's hilarious to me.

I'm hugging that guy

on the way to his gate.

I'm swapping phone numbers.

I have a problem?

No, lady.

I have a solution.

You have a problem...

With your sober good time.

I'll feel like shit

in the morning,

but I'll know exactly why...

Because I got hammered.

You wake up, you feel like shit,

you worry.

"Did I forget

to take my omega-3s?

"My glands are swollen.

"Did I touch a toilet handle

without sanitizing?

I'm not sure exactly."

- Well, you should have
- been drunk.

And you just... you wake up

and go, "fuck.

It'll go away

by the afternoon."

I did stop drinking

Jagermeister

as though it were some, like,

miraculous life choice.

I bragged to people when I

stopped drinking Jagermeister,

like I'm doing bikram yoga now

and eating tofu.

- I'm still hammered
- all the time,

But it's not jager,

which is just a shitty drink.

At some point, I saw a clip

of myself on stage

- yelling at the bar,
- drunk,

"hey, can I get a shot of

Jagermeister?"

But I could see me.

- Like, in my head,
- I'm young.

But then I saw

I'm just an old fucking dude.

And just the word Jagermeister

coming out of your mouth

is some desperate cry

to be young again.

And it's like the old guy's

a silver-haired fox,

- but he still has
- two hoop earrings.

- And he's like,
- "hey, ladies."

- Don't be
- that fucking dude.

Just drink something clear.

'Cause...

Jake lamotta, the fighter,

is a neighbor of ours

in bisbee, Arizona.

He lives two blocks down.

If you don't know

Jake lamotta,

he was a fighter,

a legendary fighter.

The movie raging bull.

Yes. No? Yeah?

Robert deniro.

For you 22-year-olds,

let me explain.

Robert deniro used to be

an actor

in the moving pictures.

Yeah.

One of his greatest roles

was that

playing Jake lamotta

in raging bull.

- It was a real guy
- that's our neighbor.

- And we never met him till,
- last year,

A mutual friend brought him

to the house to watch football.

And we're wicked excited.

Like, fucking Jake lamotta 's

coming here.

And they brought him over.

He's like 91.

There's no Jake lamotta

left of the Jake lamotta.

- So we're all,
- like, happy.

And they bring him in,

and we're like, ""

like, for a boxer,

my age they're fucked up,

and he's twice that.

So they bring him in.

He's fucking up...

They have him by one elbow,

91 years old.

And they plop it on the couch

like an eggplant.

And we're like,

"Jake lamotta 's here."

And he's got a trophy wife

who's 30 years his junior,

which means she's still

in her 60s, so...

The trophy is a bit tarnished

at this point.

It's no Stanley cup

anymore.

It's more

of a bowling trophy.

- And she's
- a very sweet woman.

- She has all the characteristics
- of trophy wife.

- She has
- bleached blonde hair,

And the 60-year-old

tit job is forced up

so the good parts

are showing through the top.

And you go... okay.

And she's very sweet.

And she's trying

to distract from...

Jake lamotta

doesn't know where he is.

He doesn't know

he's watching football.

He's confused on the couch.

The only time he showed

any cognitive recognition

of his surroundings...

- I saw him scrambling
- with his cigarettes

And fumbling and looking

to the door like,

"who will walk me out

so I can smoke?"

And I said, "it's okay, Jake.

You can smoke in the house."

And he went,

- that's how fucking deep
- cigarettes get you.

Nothing else.

He said, ""

then straight back

to confusion.

So his wife is very sweet.

- And she's talking to me
- and bingo.

- "I can't believe we've lived
- here so long,

- And we've never met.
- And it's so nice."

And at some point, she says,

"you know, Jake and I

- "are doing a play
- on Saturday night

"at the central

school in old bisbee.

"We'd love it if you'd come.

I wrote it myself,"

she says.

Really?

All by your little lonely?

That fucking half-cadaver

on my couch

didn't chime in

with some of his great ideas

of how the script

should be written

for the arc of the story?

And normally you would

have to stun gun me,

cattle prod me

to get me into a play.

I'm not interested... until

I spend an hour and a half

with Jake lamotta

at my house.

That's gonna be

live on stage?

I'm not missing this

for the world.

And we went,

and it lived up

to every awful

expectation that we had.

It was so tragic.

She wrote it herself.

It's called

lady and the champ.

And she wrote it, so thank god

it's mostly her.

- And she has
- an acoustic guitar,

So she'll tell some stories

and anecdotes

and then sing some show tune

kind of things.

♪ In the corner stands a boxer

and a fighter by his ♪

- And you're like,
- "god."

And then they plop

the champ out

on the other side

of the stage in a chair.

And they sit him down.

- He still has no idea
- where he is.

He still thinks he's watching

football at my house.

And his only job

is to pepper the script

with some one-liners

and some shadow boxing.

So occasionally,

he stands up,"

"I fought sugar ray

so many times,

I got diabetes."

Which is not a bad line for

a fucking 91-year-old boxer,

except the champ forgets

he already did the line.

So moments later, he stands

back up, "I fought..."

in the middle of a song,

"I fought sugar ray."

And they have to come out.

They can't stage whisper

to him

- because he's deaf
- as a stump.

So they physically

have to come out

and push him back down

in his chair and yell at him,

"not yet, champ!

"Wait till the end of the

number, and then you do the...

- Okay?
- All right."

And we're in the back

of the room fucking dying.

Like it's quiet, we're

having to bite our hands

like children in church

trying not to giggle.

And... it was like seeing

if Mr. Schiavo

brought Terri schiavo

on the road

as a song and dance act.

♪ Hello, my honey,

hello, my baby ♪

♪ hello, my ragtime ♪

- "Thank you!
- Terri and I will be

"selling merchandise

after the show.

"Terri will lick your t-shirts

for you to personalize them

"as a little souvenir

of the great time

we had tonight here."

And as much as I'm enjoying it

for all the worst reasons,

there's part of my head

going, "all right.

How long

before that's you?"

How many... I've been doing

this shit 23 years.

How long?

- I've taken a lot of shots
- to the head,

Just like the champ.

How long before that final

synapse in my brain burns out

that would have told me,

"don't do this anymore.

You're embarrassing yourself

thoroughly."

- But I have my trophy wife,
- bingo.

- She doesn't want
- to get a real job,

So she's just shoving me

out on the stage.

"Go get 'em, champ."

"Jagermeister!

Maybe it already happened.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm... maybe this

is being filmed to...

"don't do this anymore."

- I live every day
- of my life

Like it's my last day

on earth, kids.

- And I really...
- Don't clap.

You don't know how I live.

That makes it even more sad

and pathetic

that I would willingly choose

to spend any given last day

on earth immobilized

on a couch,

sweating, watching a marathon

of storage wars,

completely content

with that.

- Friends going, "come on.
- Let's do something, man.

- "Let's go out.
- I came all the way down.

Let's go live life."

You're like, "fuck you.

I ain't getting up.

"I've had to piss for

the last four episodes.

"My prostate is welded shut

like a lug nut.

"And I don't give a shit.

I'm not getting up.

"I got to find out

what's in that safe.

"Very important to find out

after the commercial break

what could possibly be

in that safe."

You guys all have interests

and you do shit.

And I don't.

Yeah.

Try doing nothing

as long as me.

I have "house arrest"

on my bucket list

just so I have an excuse for why

I can't go do the dumb shit

- you like
- that I don't understand.

- "I'm sorry.
- I'd love to see your friend

"play the flamenco guitar,

but I got the anklet.

Sorry."

Go right back to watching

fucking hoarders.

I watch hoarders.

I see shit I need.

I do.

- Like they brought the yard sale
- into my living room

And I just poke around.

- I'm not following
- the dialog.

- I'm just looking
- at their shit.

- "Bingo, they have an orange
- microwave.

- "Rewind it.
- Pause.

"That's an orange mic...

- "how do you get an orange
- microwave?

- "Underneath the stack
- of the newspapers

"and the mummified cat

is an orange microwave.

"Find it on Amazon.

That might fill the void

in my soul. Orange."

Because that's... i don't even

drunk dial people anymore

- because I have
- nothing to say.

But I drunk

ebay and Amazon.

I buy shit

when I'm blacked out.

Which is...

Ebay's the worst,

because if I get outbid,

then I take it personal

when I'm drinking.

Like you just fucking looked

at my girlfriend weird.

- "Outbid me?
- I'm going to fucking outbid you.

- "Yeah, I'll wait.
- I'll wait.

"Come on. Do it.

Outbid me?

"Outbid you! Because you

probably have kids.

"I don't.

I don't have a lot of money,

"but every penny I have

is disposable

- "because I don't
- have children.

- "I bought a shitty,
- cheap house

On the Mexican border.

"My nut is 800 bucks a year

in property tax.

- "I could beg that.
- You?

- "You're gonna outbid me,
- eventually you're gonna realize,

"'shit, my children

have to go to college.'

"and I'm gonna realize,

'shit.

"'I need a vintage pachinko

machine in my house

"for some unknown reason.'

- "outbid you.
- You lose.

I'm a giant winner...

Somehow."

Way worse than drunk dialing,

because drunk buying shit,

- you don't even remember
- you did it

For five to seven

business days.

You walk out of your house,

and ups is building

some corrugated

great wall of China outside.

Like, "what did I do now?

- "What did you get yourself
- this time,

"Mr. Christmas in July?

Miracle socks,

as seen on TV."

Actual purchase.

- I don't have
- circulation problems,

But evidently when I drink

on Ambien,

that's some underlying fear

I didn't even

know I had,

is deep vein thrombosis.

"I'm going to die.

"Maybe that's why

I never work Australia.

- "That long flight
- could kill me

With deep vein

thrombosis."

I have no fear of death,

except I hate waiting for it.

Just come on.

I beat cancer.

- I never had it.
- That's how I beat it.

Like I've...

You survived it?

I beat the fuck out of it,

but by not getting it.

I've courted cancer

every day of my life.

I have done everything but

fucking paid cancer's

taxi fare to my hotel.

Won't show up.

That's beating it.

You survived it,

you're like tied.

I get the number one seed

in the bracket

over you, survivor.

I'm a winner.

But there is an afterlife,

and if I can give you

any hope in this show,

I have definitive proof

of an afterlife.

- I didn't get weird
- or go religious on you.

- I'm not saying
- there's a god.

I don't know what

the afterlife entails,

but here's the proof.

My mother killed herself

in 2008.

- Don't worry.
- This is a fun story.

It was the best death

you could ever be part of.

She was dying

of emphysema at 63.

Her brain was still with it,

but her...

She was drowning

in her own fluids.

She's being permanently

water boarded by 45 years

of kool milds.

- She can't take it anymore.
- We knew it was gonna happen.

When she made the call,

"I can't do it."

I'm like, "all right, ma.

We'll do what we can."

I'm like, "all right.

Ma's gonna kill herself."

- I don't know what to do.
- Like that's...

- Okay, we know
- it's gonna happen,

- But when you say,
- "we're gonna do it,"

I'm not gonna go buy you

a fucking shotgun.

Like, "have fun, ma."

So I don't know

what to do.

I don't kill people.

It's just...

It's not something,

like, I fantasize about it.

- If my mother
- were Nancy grace,

- I'd have been
- all over it.

Like I have plans.

But my mother was a great

person, so I'm like,

"how do we do this right?"

So I called my lawyer.

- I have three lawyers.
- We have...

Like, we're jewed up big

with lawyers in L.A.

For this shit,

all the camera people

and recording contracts.

Then I have

my local bisbee attorney

- that helps me with...
- Like, I got married

When I was 20 and I had

24 years of marital bliss,

- till I remembered,
- "fuck.

I never divorced that girl

I drunkenly married in Vegas."

That's for another DVD.

So he...

But then we have our third

lawyer, who's a comedy fan.

He's our, like wink-wink,

nudge-nudge,

Saul Goodman

from breaking bad attorney.

That he handles

all the creepy shit,

like when me and Andy

are up late at night

doing blow and thinking of...

"call kirschner.

- "See how much jail time
- we could...

- Could we go to prison
- if we actually did this?"

He's that guy.

So I called him, knowing he'd

hook me up with a doctor

on the down low, as we say

in the black community,

as a black person.

He gave me the number

to a doctor.

And I go, "hey, my mother's

gonna cash out,

- and I don't know
- what to do."

- He said,
- "what do you have?"

- I go, "I've got Xanax
- out the ass."

On the border, you can get all

the fucking Xanax you want.

He's like, "that's no good.

That's anti-anxiety.

Does she have hospice care?"

"Yeah, she does."

- "Then she should
- have morphine."

"Ma, you got morphine?"

"Yeah, I got morphine."

- "All right.
- She's got morphine."

- We worked out the dosages
- and the milligrams.

- And he goes, "if she has
- 30 of those,

That's enough to kill any

human being on the planet."

She had fucking 90.

Like, "okay.

We're good. Okay."

- "We never talked.
- Remember that."

"Okay, doc."

So I'm like, "all right,

we're gonna do this.

- First of all,
- bring her to my house."

- Because she lived
- in 300 square feet

Of hoarder paradise.

Old electric bills with

spider webs all crammed...

Like it's depressing enough

- if you're gonna
- help your mother kill herself.

But we're gonna go to my house.

We'll tidy up, we'll...

So we set her up with a hospital

bed in the living room.

She had been aa off and on

for my whole life.

She had, at this point,

been four years sober.

And I'm like, "you're not gonna

kill yourself sober, right?

You can't take

those chips with you."

Right?

- She's like, "yeah.
- You're right.

- Why would I do that?
- That's dumb."

- So she...
- In her heyday,

- She was
- a black Russian drinker,

So I set out a mini bottle

of ketel one

and a mini bottle of Kahlua

with her pills.

"For whenever you're ready.

Let me know."

We laid down ground rules.

I said, "ma, if you're gonna

kill yourself, seriously,

"you can't do it

on Sunday or Monday

"because that's football,

and that's a dick move.

"If you can call your own time

to leave this planet,

"don't do it during someone

else's planned event.

Don't be an asshole."

And she did it the Saturday

before football.

That was great.

She came in on Thursday.

Saturday night, she goes,

"it's time."

And I'm like, "time for what?

Like medication?"

"No, it's time."

- And like, "fuck.
- This is real."

So I wake up bingo.

Like it's going on.

We start mixing up

white Russians.

- She decided to make
- black Russians white Russians

Because she thought the milk

would coat her belly

- better for taking
- all the pills.

Like mother till the end.

"Do you have whole milk?"

"I got skim."

"Skim'll work.

- "I just don't want
- to throw up the pills.

Chicken soup

for the suicide."

It was so fucking...

It was so sweet.

So we're

whipping up drinks and...

I didn't so much assist

a suicide as bar back it.

- Like, I'm in there
- mixing drinks

- Because we're
- all drinking.

We watch bad Santa

together,

- her favorite movie,
- together.

- She had a very dark
- sense of humor.

- I didn't come
- from nowhere.

- My mother used to review porn
- on the man show.

She was fucking dark

like us.

So we watched bad Santa,

and she's trying

to choke down these pills.

- She had a very hard time
- taking pills.

So she's just gagging

and just getting them down.

So I'm keeping

a vague count.

When she got around 30,

a little over, I'm like,

"ma, that's good.

- You don't need to do anymore.
- You're fine."

And she said, "I don't want

to take any chances."

- She was so scared
- of fucking up.

She took all 90 morphine.

The...

- We're sitting there
- in horror, going,

"you're wasting...

Ma...

"They said 30 of those would

kill any human being alive.

"You could leave 60 of them

for me and bingo

"as our only inheritance

other than the last

17-year-old blind cat

you have, Georgia."

Yeah, we could have

60 morphines

- to have
- spontaneous memorials

For mother every year

and again."

- "Remember mom?
- Pop a morphine.

- "Whoo!
- What a great lady.

- What a crazy old bitch."
- No.

Hoarder till the end.

All fucking 90.

And then

we fucked with her.

I remember her last words

as she's coming in and out.

Because we're just goofing

on her as she's doing this,

- as she's fading
- in and out.

- I didn't even know
- if she would respond.

She was just hammering

cocktails, she...

And she's laying there,

half in, half out,

- with a white Russian on her
- chest that she'd

Occasionally get to her mouth,

and it'd spill.

- You know when you come off
- the wagon,

You hit it fucking hard.

And it's pretty bad

- when you're trying
- to keep up drinking

With an 83-pound,

63-year-old woman.

- "Aagh."
- And I go, "wow.

- You're really knocking those
- back, ma."

And she goes,

"there's times to be dainty,

and there's times

to be a pig."

And we all laughed.

And this is mother's problem

throughout her life.

She was a funny lady,

sporadically.

But when she would get a laugh,

she would just hammer it

and over-tag it

and repeat the joke.

Like, just keep...

- "I can keep getting a laugh
- off the same joke."

- And it would ruin
- the joke.

- And when we all laughed at
- "there's times to be a pig,"

I saw her go into...

She's gonna... and I go,

"shut your fucking mouth.

Those are perfect last words.

You're not gonna ruin this joke.

Cut the mic on mother."

And then we just roasted her

as she fell in and out.

We just did

a friar's club roast,

making fun of her and

making it a fun, dark suicide.

"Ma, wait.

They found a cure."

"I love you,

but fuck you.

I was a bad mother.

I love you, I love you."

At one point,

I remember I said,

"ma, if there's any kind of

white light situation,

"that other side

that you get to,

"if you can communicate

with us Houdini-style,

"see if there's any way

that you can make the saints

"cover eight points

at Oakland tomorrow

- because I have money
- on the game."

And they did. The saints

fucking blew them out...

October 12, 2008.

The saints won 34 to 3.

I'm not saying that's proof

of an afterlife.

That was just 40 bucks

that I won.

Proof of the afterlife

is this.

If there were no afterlife,

how could my mother

have bought me

and my friends

so many nice things

from the skymall catalog

on her credit card

four days after

she passed from this earth?

Answer me that,

your honor.

Answer me that.

In fact, I'd like to enter these

credit card receipts

into evidence, against

the advice of my attorney.

- "Look at that.
- Four days.

- "I had to swear
- on your Bible

"just to testify

in my own defense.

"Your silly fake Jesus

only lasted three days

"before he ran out

of that cave like a pussy.

"My mother? Four days,

relaxing up there.

She's drunk ebaying

like I do!"

That last piece of that story

has special meaning to me

because in my entire career,

that's the only chunk

of material I've ever had that

had a statute of limitations

before I could comfortably

tell it on stage.

Three-year statute

for credit card fraud.

After that, fuck you.

Mother didn't want some

silly gravestone.

That doesn't do anything.

Mother wanted me to have

a voice-activated

remote control

r2-d2 doll.

I'm just saying we all

occupy in our own way.

You occupy your fucking filthy

Portland hippie selves

because you hate the 1%

and you hate the banks

because of their

predatory-lending practices

against the people, and enslave

them in a lifetime of debt.

What'd you do about it?

You stunk up a park

for almost a year.

I occupy far

more efficiently.

Maybe you should look to me

for leadership.

I hate the banks as well,

as we all do.

How did I fuck them?

- I spent three hours
- jacking up

Mother's chase bank visa card

after she's dead

up to its $10,000 limit,

buying dumb shit

that no one needs and sticking

them with the bill

because she had no estate

except for that blind,

fucking last cat.

If you want to repo that,

have at it.

That actually caused damage

to the bank.

Not sitting around

with a dog with a kerchief

and a cardboard sign,

"doo doo doo doo,"

slapping on drums

in a drum circle.

The fucking occupy movement

was such a letdown

- because you seemed
- like me.

- Angry, and we're gonna
- take to the streets.

And, holy shit,

around the globe,

- people are,
- "fuck this.

We're gonna do something."

And what did you do?

You fucked up a park.

All you fucked up in a year

is some guy's day

who wanted to throw

a frisbee for his dog,

but he couldn't because

you're all camped out there.

- You hate the banks?
- Don't fuck up the park.

Fuck up the bank.

- Who's in charge
- of this project?

Next time, me!

"We don't really

have leadership."

You needed some!

You have 500 angry people

in a park.

Go break them up

into squads of 20.

You can fuck up every

branch of bank of America

in a 50-mile radius.

Go there, and not

as anarchists, either.

- Throwing bricks
- through the windows?

What are you,

a fucking teenager?

Have some ingenuity.

You line up as customers

at 8:00 in the morning.

They only have two desks

to do actual commerce

other than cashing checks

and shit.

You clog up those two desks

as bogus customers.

Sit down, cross your legs,

apply for frivolous loans

all day long.

That's a lot of paperwork

for every frivolous,

"yes, I need a billion dollars

for an ant farm.

"Sharpen some pencils.

"That's a big stack

of paperwork.

I'd love some coffee."

You comb your dreadlocks

over to one side,

put on your

$3 salvation army suit,

and you clog up

all their time.

"Or you could deny me the right

to apply for the loan,

"and then I sue the fuck

out of you for discrimination,

causing even more damage

to your bottom line."

- Rather than just
- sitting out there in a park

- Getting tear-gassed
- by cops.

What does that do?

What are you accomplishing?

"I got it on tape.

Police abuse."

Yeah, police abuse people.

That's how it works.

You're never gonna win.

- Yeah. Well, you want
- to fight that,

And eventually they'll go,

"it was justified."

- "I was laying there.
- I'm paralyzed.

- I was face-down in the park.
- They tased me."

"Justified."

Yeah.

Why aren't you the cops?

That's a better idea.

- You had a fucking year
- in the park.

The first week of occupy,

you should have called everyone

with no police record out,

made them go apply to be police.

You'd have had people that have

gotten through the academy.

They're in the works now.

They're moles on your side.

They're sitting there

in a riot helmet

with a Bluetooth underneath

the star wars helmet,

calling you in the park,

giving you heads-ups.

"Hey, Kevin.

"You might want to put on

a gas mask around 7:45 A.M.,

you know what I'm saying?"

"Thanks, Shane, but we're

already wearing gas masks

"'cause we haven't showered

in 7 1/2 months,

"and Angela's snatch is really

starting to reek up

"the pup tent something

ferocious.

- "But keep fighting
- the good fight.

Power to the people!"

Good Christ.

You could have done so much

with that.

There's a fucking million ways

you could have been clever.

That's why I love wikileaks

and anonymous,

- 'cause they're actually
- in there.

- They're fucking
- with the system.

They're not sitting around

chanting and slapping bongos.

Bradley Manning didn't get

to release all that information

- by sitting
- in a drum circle.

He had to get inside.

That's why you should fucking

read up on scientology.

And I'm serious.

Scientology is brilliant.

Read this book

inside scientology.

It's a breakdown of how

that evil motherfucker

created that religion

in a modern time.

Every other religion people

believe in,

you only believe in it

because all your ancestry did.

This guy had to create this

and sell it to adults recently.

It's as stupid as any other

religion, but how did he do it?

How did he create

this leviathan?

Read this book

inside scientology

and apply those evil tactics

to occupy,

and you have a fucking

winning recipe.

You follow l. Ron Hubbard's

intimidation,

infiltration, harassment,

blackmail,

- complete abuse of
- the legal system,

Where you just turn a cross-eyed

stink look at scientology,

- and they'll sue you
- into poverty.

You use that for good.

- You know what
- l. Ron Hubbard didn't have

In his master plan

for world domination?

Drum circle!

It doesn't do anything!

No one wants to hear that.

It's annoying as shit.

You had enough time

in a year

to learn how to play

real instruments.

You could have had

a whole New Orleans-style

jazz swing band

that people want to hear.

But instead, what?

I'm not against you.

I appreciate the passion.

I don't know how anyone

who has a cause in life

- where they put that much time
- and effort

Into trying to change

something...

How do you pick one thing?

How do you wake up

in the morning

and look at the billions of

things that suck on this planet?

- You log into
- your yahoo! News

- And it's just countries you
- didn't even know were countries

- Have problems
- you didn't even know existed.

- How do you pick
- one sliver of that

- And decide,
- that's the one.

We have to print up t-shirts

and have a car wash.

I would be so confused.

I want to make change.

How do you pick something

if it hasn't affected you?

Juvenile diabetes?

- Well, I don't know,
- but I have

- Lots of free time
- during the day.

I guess I should... wait.

Spina bifida,

and the guy's right here,

- and he's uncomfortable
- to look at.

So maybe I'll go

with this guy's cause.

And clitoral circumcision

in the third world?

I know that gives me a handy

excuse for not finding it,

but that's selfish, and I have

to stop thinking about me.

And as soon as you focus

on one thing,

here comes Sarah mclachlan

on the TV

with the skinny, sad puppies

and the abused...

"in the arms of an angel."

I don't know why animals

always seem to trump

any human cause, but they do.

And now you're telling me about

fucking corrective rape,

which is some weird thing

in South Africa, you know?

Corrective rape is where

they gang-rape lesbians

to try to cure them,

and I want to...

I'm behind that,

just to bring attention to it,

'cause the term

"corrective rape"

is such a good

comedy reference

that I demand

a bigger laugh

- when I mention
- corrective rape,

But no one knows about it.

- So, I want to bring attention
- to your cause.

- I just don't know
- how you pick.

If I had any cause

over the course of my career

- that I've bitched
- the most about,

It's overpopulation,

which is the root

- of most of the other problems
- you care about.

Anti-children, but I don't know

where to send a check.

I don't know.

Like, what do you do?

- The only solution that
- I've ever come up with,

Which I think is great,

but no one's gotten on board,

incentive-based eugenics.

Eugenics was a practice

of sterilizing people.

Hitler got a lot

of the credit for it,

but it was actually done

in this country

long before Hitler

even knew who he was mad at.

We were practicing eugenics

in this country.

Eugenics was the practice

of forced sterilization of

undesirables, which sounds bad.

And the way they did it

was bad 'cause they would...

First of all,

the force is wrong.

You don't force people to do

things they don't want to do.

And, "b," who decides

who's undesirable?

- They were doing it
- in this country

- At the turn
- of the 20th century,

Which is the 1900s,

for a lot of my fans.

Early 1900s.

To criminals, perverts,

which is way too vague,

the mentally ill,

mentally retarded,

homosexuals,

which makes perfect sense.

We don't want them

breeding.

Have little queers running

all up and down like gremlins.

- But if you took away
- the force,

And you just made it

incentive-based

for people willing

to sterilize themselves.

Offer up

some white trash prizes.

You know, Nascar pit pass,

meet your favorite driver.

All you've got to do

is snip the sac.

"Really?"

Year's supply

of sunny delight.

- You want some sunny d,
- don't you?

All you got to do is putty up

that front hole, lady.

You still have

two holes left

to trick guys

out of drinks at the bar.

What do we got to do?

"Are you telling me,

if I cut off my balls,

I'm going crossbow hunting

with Ted nugent?"

Well, shit, yeah.

"No. No, sir, sir, sir.

Wait, no.

- "We don't actually
- cut off your balls.

We just make a small incision

with a local anesthetic."

"Fuck you. I want you

to cut off my whole balls.

"I'm gonna hang them

from my rear-view mirror

"like a lucky rabbit's foot.

"I'm going crossbow hunting

with the nuge.

I ain't never won nothing

in my life."

That's a workable plan.

Can't argue with that.

It just won't happen.

Here's what I think.

- If you're behind
- whatever you're behind,

We should triage

all charity.

So we take the most important

and most easily solved first.

Everyone works on that, and

we'll get to yours eventually.

I would start with starving

people in a world full of food.

That seems easy to solve.

You don't need scientists with

lab reports and years, no.

There's lots of shitloads

of food.

There's just

a transit problem.

Get someone from fedex,

get the food there.

We live in a place, fucking

horse meat is a scandal.

They found horse meat.

"How dare... my god.

Have you heard?

"There was horse meat in my

frozen, processed lasagna meal.

How dare they put a more lean

and nutritional meat?"

And now we're gonna dump it

by the warehousefuls

in the garbage dumps,

while people are starving

to death on this planet.

That makes no sense.

- I can solve that.
- Yeah.

Take that food and feed

the people that don't have it.

And then we get down to

the next most important

and the wrongly accused

and the torture

and the thing

and the disease and...

Occupy is lower,

and then, save the manatees

even lower than that.

And eventually, hopefully,

in a perfect world,

we'd get down to the bottom,

which is toys for tots.

How fucking embarrassing is it

to live in a country

where toys for tots

is an actual recognized,

legitimate charity?

God forbid little Daniel

go through some bogus holiday

made for some fake deity

without Lincoln logs.

The horror.

The horror.

That's why they have to have

marines and bikers

enforce that shit

like henchmen.

- 'Cause otherwise,
- you'd just go, "fuck you.

Toys?

There's starving people."

And then some big,

fucking, crew-cut guy.

"I fucking fought

for your freedom!

Give me a goddamned lego

for the kid!"

It's gonna be tough.

Whatever your cause,

your charity, or your drive,

your effort, audit it.

Make sure, 'cause so much of it

is symbolism over substance,

where people think they're

helping by doing nothing.

Audit all the time and effort,

and see if you're actually

affecting change

rather than just,

"we're gonna have

a 10k fun run for the cure.

"Come on down on Sunday.

It's a 10k fun run

for the cure."

Why? Why?

When has running

ever cured anything?

I don't understand the cause

and effect on this.

Is that how

Jonas salk cured polio,

is by speed-walking

around the track

down at St. Mary's high school

with a wife beater on

and a paper number

safety-pinned to his back?

"We're doing it

for the cure."

How are you curing anything?

"Well, what I do

is I get sponsors.

"And every time I go around

the track another time,

"my sponsor gives me another

quarter for the cure.

So I've got to go

as many times as I..."

Are your friends that sick

and sadomasochistic

that they wouldn't just

cut you a check outright

for the cure?

They make you do weird shit

first?

"Larry, you know my daughter

was born with cerebral palsy.

And we're trying to get a big

fundraiser going."

"Really?"

"Yeah.

"How many hard-boiled eggs

will you eat?

- "Come on.
- Come on.

You love your kid, right?

Come on."

No, they would cut you

a check outright,

but you're that much of

a fucking megalomaniac

that you have

to make the cure about you.

You need spotlight in this.

- You could just
- get a check,

- But no one's gonna
- fucking be,

"no. You know, the truth is,

I do this same speed walk

"at St. Mary's

every morning at 6:30

"before work

with my labrador, sheba.

- "Trying to shed a few pounds,
- you know.

"But no one claps for me then

and calls me heroic.

- "So I'm gonna do it on Sunday
- afternoon for the cure,

And everyone's gonna go,

'go, ray, go!'"

yeah, you could do it,

but you want to fucking...

It's a 10k fun run about you,

you fucking megalomaniac.

- Stop it.
- You know you're not doing shit.

- You could just get the check
- from your friend

- And then actually
- do something

- That means something
- other than running.

"We're getting donations,

and we're petitioning city hall

"for a spot in the park

to make a big, granite slab

- "for the victims
- and the sufferers

- "and the survivors of
- the thing.

"And then we're gonna

painstakingly etch each name

of the people into the stone

at great expense."

- For what?
- It's a fucking chunk of rock.

It doesn't help.

- Put that time and effort
- and money

Into actually something

- that's calculated
- that actually helps.

"We're gonna knit

a SARS quilt.

"It's gonna take

all summer long.

- "'Cause there's people
- with SARS,

- And they're chilly with SARS,
- and they need a quilt."

What?

"We're gonna have

a prayer circle.

We're gonna have a candlelight

vigil at midnight."

Could you do less?

Mathematically.

Ask your accountant

if there's any way

you could do any less

than that.

"Well, we are raising

awareness."

Raising awareness is another

form of doing nothing.

Only now you're making me

aware that the nothing

that I've been doing

is not up to par

- with the nothing
- that you're doing

For such a noble cause.

Why don't you do my nothing

for your cause?

We'll watch storage wars

for the cure,

and then we'll both be happy

in our impotence.

And we'll find out

what's in that safe.

We all win.

Raising awareness is me standing

next to a drainage ditch

where a guy just hit a goat

with his moped on the highway.

- And now
- they're in the ditch,

Laying in the muck

with compound fractures.

And the dude's got a bone

sticking through his leg.

And the fucking goat's got

a bone sticking through his fur.

They're both laying there

in agony.

And I'm raising awareness

by standing above them,

shouting down an empty highway,

"look! Look! Eww!

Eww, look. Ooh."

And they're going,

"no, help."

And I'm going,

"no, no, no. Look!"

It's way easier

to just look.

Are you aware

of breast cancer?

Fucking the entire month

of October

- is breast cancer
- awareness month.

The entire country turns pink

so you can't not be aware.

All your products,

you go to the grocery store.

"Usually I buy

the progresso soup.

- "But this month, I'm gonna get
- the one with the pink ribbon,

"so I know that I've done

all I can to help my fellow man.

"I don't read the fine print

that says,

".000001 cents of every can

up to a very minimal amount

goes to..."

it actually goes nowhere

near a titty, ever, at all.

- It goes to more
- promotional material

Asking for more money

and to give

very dubious medical advice

where a lot of titties get

chopped off that didn't need to

- because we're an industry,
- not a charity anymore.

I don't read that part.

I just see the pink ribbon

and know that I'm helping.

You've destroyed

the color pink.

There's no need for that.

I like the color pink,

and you've ruined it.

- You see pink, that's all
- you can think about.

I have a pink bedroom.

My bedroom is pink.

- I can't sleep in it
- during October

- 'cause you just see the color,
- and all you think about

Is giant,

metastasizing titties

sucking the life

out of some poor woman.

Why do you fuck up a color?

Associate it with something else

that's negative.

- You know, "traffic and weather
- brought to you

"at the top of the hour

on fucking 620 am.

"Hey, traffic sucks again.

This is brought to you

by breast cancer."

- And that way, next time
- you're stuck in traffic,

You go, "wow. Fuck.

- "This sucks,
- but not as bad as cancer.

Maybe I should try to help."

Don't fuck up a color.

Do you watch football?

This is where

it went too far with me.

The national football league

participates

in breast cancer

awareness month.

First of all, why is it

breast cancer awareness month

rather than

cancer awareness month?

I assume if you cure

breast cancer,

that would cure ass cancer

and face cancer and shit cancer.

It's cancer.

'Cause titties sell tickets,

stupid!

- Okay, I forget
- the marketing angle.

Maybe you're right on that.

Still, the national

football league participates

with the pink gloves

and just pink on the players.

Where if you think football

is stupid, you're right.

But it's my stupid.

You have your stupid.

You can judge me in sports.

You have your own stupid.

You play world of warcraft

or you do

renaissance festivals

or you fucking win

Brian Doyle Murray

look-alike competitions

or fucking do...

You grow organic apples

and sell them

at the farmer's market.

You learn how to speak Italian

on the rosetta stone

so one day you can

impress your friends

by ordering in Italian

at a restaurant

- and the fucking waiter at
- olive garden looks at you going,

'i don't know

what you're saying, dude."

Whatever you do,

football is my stupid.

That's what I do for

a few hours on a weekend

in the fall to forget

how much I hate myself.

I don't want to think about

breast cancer

while I'm watching football

to get away from this.

It's hard enough to watch

football as it is,

if you're a fan,

without constantly

thinking about aids.

You have to push that

out of your head.

Inherently, if you're

a fan of the game,

with the technology

that they have now,

you watch Monday night

football or super bowl,

they have cameras now

that come down on cables

right over the field, like

right over the players' heads,

almost touching them.

You have 60 inches

of high definition.

You have a camera panning around

11 men bent up in a huddle,

presenting these beautiful,

thick man-asses.

And it's zooming in

on each one.

And it creates this Bangkok

whorehouse scenario

in your brain.

- You feel a little tuggle
- in your sweatpants.

And you're like,"

what if they were

behind glass in Phuket?"

Which one would I select for

my evening's entertainment

- from the Cambodian guy
- that runs the place,

And he's got an eye patch.

- And I go,
- "ching dai Bo dah!"

And he pulls the guy out.

Number 28.

- I haven't even seen
- all the guys,

And I impulse-buy on 28.

He's a halfback with these

sinewy horse haunches,

leaning into me,

and in my mind,

before I can make

a rational decision,

I've already leaped over

the railing at the field.

I'm streaking butt-naked

across the field,

wearing nothing but a...

Wearing an 1800s nightcap

that's striped

with a pom-pom.

I don't know why that.

But I'm wearing flip-flops

- 'cause they make you
- run funnier.

But my dick is slapping

up and down

against my belly.

- You make you dick however big
- you want it to be.

It's your fantasy.

Have your dick slapping

your chest.

- Have your dick take a tooth out
- on the way to the huddle.

It doesn't matter.

Just get to 28

and yank him out of the huddle

and pin him to the ground.

- Hold him down
- with one elbow.

Peel those...

- They wear
- these little lycra pants.

They're so

fucking gorgeous.

And you just peel them

off him. And he's sweaty.

They're just going to slide off

like a wet band-aid.

- Don't fuck
- with the jockstrap.

- It's no obstacle
- to the asshole.

You'll waste your time.

Plus, the little straps

keep the ass cheek up

and focused.

Steam comes off his ass.

Get your face in there.

You huff that steam.

You huff it like a gassy rag.

Inhale his essence.

And you peel

those ass cheeks apart

with your thumbnails

like your cracking a cage-free,

farm-fresh egg.

And you take your dick.

Don't stab him

with it right away.

Tease him with it.

Here we go.

In and up,

asshole to tailbone, people.

Asshole to tailbone.

Watch him struggle.

He knows it's gonna happen.

He doesn't know when.

Asshole to tailbone.

Pull on his face mask

a bit.

Twist his neck.

Pull on his dreadlocks.

And these are not

occupy wall street dreadlocks,

by the way.

This is a black dude.

This is straight up racism.

This is a hate crime.

Because you are pretty sure

that your ex-wife

used to fantasize

about this guy

doing similar shit to her.

- You knew it.
- Yeah.

- You want to do that
- to my wife?

- You'll never get
- a thicker boner

Than that angry,

racist, jealousy boner.

- Veins are coming
- out of the head,

- And nothing
- makes you crazier

- Than when you
- get that boner

And you just jam it in him

like a fat salamander

and you ride.

You do that porn angle,

- where you
- bend your dick down

And do deep knee bends so you

can look at the people.

You have... 55,000 people

are now out of their chairs,

on their feet,

chanting for you.

They love you.

They're like, "fuck that guy!

Fuck that guy!"

This is his home field,

- and they're on your side,
- all of a sudden.

"Fuck that dude, yeah!"

They're spilling beer.

You feel the rubber

start to slide off of you,

but you don't give a shit.

This is my day.

They love me.

I'm going to launch

rainbows of cum

- into this broken
- motherfucker.

And you do.

- You're not even done coming
- when you pull out.

Your dick's just

still fire-hosing,

swaying back and forth,

getting rid of the last

of the spurts.

And you have an end zone

celebration dance

- that you've worked out in
- the hallway mirror all season.

Little old-school

ickey shuffle thing.

And you spike the ball

right next to his head.

He's blubbering, like,

snot bubbles, and crying.

He's not even making

an attempt to get up.

His asshole is still dilated

and spasming.

His asshole is winking

like a cyclops in a rainstorm,

just trying to regain

its original shape.

One milky tear

is dripping down the taint.

It's crying for you.

And you float out of this

perfect Sunday afternoon

and this perfect daydream,

back into the stark reality of,

it's just you with some bloated,

post middle-age dude with...

You've got lumps of yellowed

gummy cum in your gut hair.

And you look around.

You feel immediate remorse

and shame.

I let the rubber come off

inside of that guy.

How irresponsible is that,

knowing what we know today,

to just bareback fuck

a guy.

I don't know

where that guy's been.

I know where he's going.

He's going into free agency.

He's fucking 32 now.

He's got shit knees.

He's lucky if he's warming

a bench in Jacksonville.

- But I don't know
- where he's been.

- To just bareback fuck
- the guy.

I could have fantasy aids

as we speak,

and I'm gonna do it again.

And as you're dealing with this,

you want to escape.

- You look at the TV.
- Pink shoes.

I have to think about breast

cancer on top of this problem?

You're ruining the integrity

of the game, breast cancer.

This is what we do

on Sundays to forget

how much

we hate ourselves.

And I don't...

I hope I didn't ruffle

any feathers.

But as an openly gay comedian,

I feel a responsibility

to talk about a lot

of issues that...

What,

are you gonna test me?

- You don't know
- if I'm lying.

- I can be as gay
- as I want to be up here.

Fuck you.

- What, are you gonna
- strap me to a chair

And blow loads in my face

to see if I'm fibbing

when I say I love it?

I'm gay if it fucking...

If it needs to be, I'm gay,

I'm fucking gay.

And you should be gay as...

I come out of the closet

all the time.

It's something fun for me.

Do it all the time.

- I'm not saying lie
- to your friends and family

Or lead a fake life.

But if you're just in some

bullshit social situation

around people you don't know,

if you can drop the errant,

"I'm gay"

in a conversation,

not revelatory, like,

"I have to tell you."

Just drop it as an aside.

"Is it just you and your

girlfriend for breakfast?"

- "That's not
- my girlfriend.

- "I'm gay,
- but it's just two of us.

Is it a buffet or can I

order off the menu?"

Just drop in, just,

if everyone was just someone...

- I guess
- they're just gay.

'Cause here's the thing.

I love homosexuality.

I defend it.

But I hate fagginess

because it's aesthetically

unpleasing.

The whole

"la la la la la" shiny.

You don't have to do that.

It's the same...

I have nothing

against Jewish people.

I hate jewiness.

The clammy, "nyah, nyah, nyah.

I get all... I'm allergic."

Personally,

that's unpleasing.

I hate anyone who leads

with their sexuality,

homo or hetero.

If I know your sexuality

- in the first 30 seconds
- of meeting you,

You're fucking annoying.

Heteros are the same way.

If you have naked lady

mud flaps or you go,

"after your show,

you want to go to Hooters?"

Or you just watch the game

for the cheerleaders.

- Just go into a basement
- and jerk off,

- You fucking teenager,
- 13-year-old,

And then come back when we can

have a regular conversation.

So, it's not...

That's why I like to come

out of the closet

as just a normal dude.

A guy on the plane going,

"yeah, I remember

- "when stewardesses
- used to be hot.

Now they're all fat."

- And you go, "yeah.
- I'm right with you, buddy.

"I fucking... thank Christ

I'm queer,

'cause they are

fat as shit."

But just because maybe

somewhere around you,

when you just drop a normal

"I'm gay" in a conversation,

there is an adolescent kid

who's just coming to terms

with the fact that he's gay,

and he's fucking terrified,

not only of just being gay.

- Maybe he thinks
- he has to be

"jump out of the cake

and ride a fucking float,

assless chaps,

ice capades" gay.

And he hears you say it just

like a normal dude, "I'm gay."

- And he goes,
- "I can do that.

"I can be just regular

Anderson Cooper,

Todd glass,

Joel osteen faggot."

And you give them courage.

And it's in the supreme court

now for gay marriage.

And I hope you get it.

Get the right to marry,

and then don't.

It's important

to get the right,

not just symbolically,

but sometimes you have to be

married to game the system.

- You need the insurance.
- You need the inheritance.

You need to pull the plug.

Maybe you just need to get

someone cool into the country.

So you need it for that.

- But don't
- if you don't have to.

It's kind of like

the civil rights movement,

where black people

had to fight for the right

- to eat
- at the same lunch counter.

Once you won that right,

I hope you didn't.

Guy's a fucking racist.

Why would you support

his business

unless you're just trying

to fuck with him

- and show up just 'cause
- he doesn't want you?

Which I understand,

and maybe that's where

you started not tipping.

If so, every tradition

has to start somewhere.

Let's just hope it was

for a good cause.

- Have a great night,
- Dante's, Portland.

It was nice to be back.

I'll see you soon.

Have a good night.

- So do you mind just coming

back downstairs? Yeah.

- I just told them I would.

- Great. Sorry.

We have another camera.

- No, that's it.

We said one camera.

- You want them
- to come back up too?

- Do you want them
- to follow you?

- What?
- Do you want...

- You just asked me to come back
- down the stairs.

- Yeah, do you want them
- to follow you

- Or do you want to just...
- They'll just catch you.

- No, no. That's fine.
- I was just confused.

- Yeah.

- Take two,

I'm coming down the stairs.

All right.

Hi. That was a show

brought to you by me.