All language subtitles for Nick.Offerman.American.Ham.2014.1080p.NF.WEBRip.DD5.1.x264-monkee

Ladies and gentlemen,

please welcome
America's humorist:

Mr. Nick Offerman.

Good evening.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Good Christ, people.

Yeah!

Minor nudity was advertised.

Minor nudity achieved.

Drink it in.

Life can be this delicious.

Before I wrap it all the way up,

I'd like to extend a...

personal thank you to a local
establishment known as Virgil's Barbecue.

The left portion
is the pork ribs.

The brisket's
sitting on top.

Hush puppies,
mac 'n' cheese, beans,

- ridiculous jalapeño corn bread muffins.
- Yeah!

People often say to me...
well, enough that I would remark upon it.

"Nick," they say,

"where the hell
did you come from?

How did this occur that
you are standing on the stage

of the venerated Town Hall
speaking to us?"

And I answer them
the same every time.

I honestly have no fucking idea
how this happened,

but I'm very grateful.

I'm minding my manners.

And I'm reminded of some words
of Thomas Jefferson, of course,

who said, "I'm a great
believer in luck.

And I find that the harder
I work, the more I have of it."

So if we're going to talk
about hard work,

if we're going to
talk about luck

being the moment when
opportunity meets with preparation,

I can't do that without
immediately thinking

of my mom and dad,
Ric and Cathy Offerman,

two of the finest Americans
you will ever hope to countenance.

They did this.

I don't know that they
particularly meant to do this,

but, by God, they did it.

They have been incredible
teachers to me in my life.

I'm interminably
in their debt.

And they're followed closely

by the ridiculous stack of
curves and comedy juggernaut

that is my legal property,
Megan Mullally.

That's right.

That's how I feel
about that lady.

Some of my most
beautiful acreage.

Read the paperwork.

Shit is mine.

Despite a life
full of jackassery,

I've managed to retain
some of the choice lessons

from these teachers
of mine.

And I thought I would pass
them along to you

in a show that
I've entitled American Ham:

My 10 Tips
for a Prosperous Life.

I'm not gonna be testing you
this evening on my 10 tips,

but life will be
giving you a pop quiz

for the rest
of your livelong days.

So it might behoove you
to mind your P's and Q's.

End preface.

Number one:

Engage in romantic love.

I don't know what I did
to get so goddamn lucky

to land the wife that I did.

But I'm what the literati
have often referred to

as "A lucky
son of a bitch."

But I can tell you that I intend to keep
this sweet gig that I found myself,

and one of the ways I do it
is by indulging in romanticism.

I'm a sap.
My whole life I've been a romantic.

I used to be
made fun of in school.

And I learned later

that it was because the people
making fun of me were not getting any.

I knew even in school,
you know.

"Oh, you guys kissing
in the hallway?" Yes.

That's because I can't get
a blowjob in the hallway.

How's football goin', bro?

That's what's up.

I realized one day...
I was driving to work.

We had been dating,
and I realized I was going to marry her.

And I was pissed off

because I would have liked
to have been consulted in the matter.

But I was not.

We're very lucky,
Megan and I.

We have figured out
how to stay together

in a business that's
really hard to stay together in.

As a couple of Hollywood hotshots,

people expect us to be skipping
down to the Whisky a Go Go

with the Sheen family

and eating bath salts,

or whatever they're eating now
to see shit weird.

But we do not.

Every time Emilio calls me,

I demure,

"Not tonight, bro.
You guys have fun."

We stay home.
We're boring.

That's a key.

It really is.
We're homebodies.

We love to stay in
and read books

and play cards
and do puzzles.

We watch HGTV.

We do a shitload
of cocaine and then...

and mainly focus
on puzzling.

"Honey, give me
the fucking sky pieces!"

Fucking love puzzles.

There's something so soothing
about a field of cerulean blue

when I'm using amphetamines.

We make our marriage
a priority.

That's key.

If you want
a healthy marriage...

It's like raising a shrub.

You have to make it a priority.
You have to water it and fertilize it

and talk nice to it
and caress it

and nibble
on its clitoris...

with regularity.

You gotta stick with it.
That's a horticulture term.

I don't know if we...

have a lot of green thumbs
in the house tonight, but...

look it up.

In our business,
one of the things

that can kill a relationship
is success,

'cause one of you gets
a sweet job in L.A.,

one of you gets
a great job in New York.

You get the call. Peter Jackson wants you
in New Zealand for 38 months

for a role
called Frodo Baggins.

I turned that shit down.

For love.

I think that kid
that got it did a nice job.

He was also very cute.

I did, however,
get to read for...

Gimli the dwarf.

I'm still trying to...

trying to ferret the compliment
out of that situation.

My wife turned 50 a few years ago,
which is a big birthday

in a society that bases a lot
of systems on the number 100.

And I said, "Honey,
this is a big birthday.

Do you want something special?
A bauble of some sort?"

And she said, "No. You know,
just make me one of your cards."

By the way, if you're
in a relationship,

make your significant other
a fucking card, please.

I always make cards for Megan.
I make her lots of gifts as well.

Every time I'm doing it
around my friends or coworkers,

they always say the same thing...

"Oh, thanks a lot, man.
You make us look so bad.

Every time you make a card,
my wife points it out to me."

And I say, "Let me tell you
something, Rob Lowe.

I'm gonna tell you
right to your face,

you turn those
blue-gles on anybody

and you don't
have to do shit.

Please just keep
looking at me."

His face is magic.

I say to the rest
of my friends

that don't have
insane blue eyes,

"Go to your printer.
There's paper in there.

Find the paper.
Take a sheet of it.

Fold it in half.
Draw a heart on it.

Open it up. Write 'I love you.'
Sign your name.

You will get so kissed.

You will be kissed
so much more voluptuously

than from any bullshit
you can buy at the mall."

Thank you.

Here's a bonus:

Go outside and find
a tiny piece of nature...

a leaf, a twig, a stone,

a shell, a chrysalis.

Adhere it in the center
of the heart...

and then get stretched out

because you're
going for a ride

to the realm of coitus.

So she said,
"Make me one of your cards.

Do one of your funny dances.

You know what? Actually there's
something I would love for my birthday.

I would love a rainbow
for my birthday."

And I said,

"Thank you, honey.

I'm very glad I asked you."

And I made a few calls
that were fruitless.

NBC did not help.

And I thought I was fucked
until I realized an important lesson...

that I could make
a rainbow out of art.

And so this is actually
the first song I wrote.

I wrote it for my wife
on her 50th birthday...

The Rainbow Song.

♪ You read me my rights
When you arrested me ♪

♪ You put me on trial
And gave me life ♪

♪ But orange you glad
I didn't say "banana" ♪

♪ When you made me your bitch
And I made you my wife? ♪

♪ "You yellow," you yell
when I ball a melon ♪

♪ But you don't complain
when I cook up some smack ♪

♪ We're both agreein'
to serve our time ♪

♪ If I drop the soap
I know you'll watch my crack ♪

♪ Please enjoy this rainbow song ♪

♪ And this gift of leprechaun romance ♪

♪ Please enjoy as part of
this well-balanced breakfast ♪

♪ The Lucky Charms
You will find in my pants ♪

♪ You blew me away ♪

♪ When you sang
"Shock the Monkey" ♪

♪ Your fingers inside me
Let the games begin ♪

♪ Indigo is a tough one to pun with ♪

♪ But when we're apart
It's the mood that I'm in ♪

♪ We get along so well
We could never be compared ♪

♪ To Jesus of Nazareth
and Pontius Pilate ♪

♪ But if you'll endure
the slight of calling me "sir" ♪

♪ I'll be Peppermint Patty
to your Violet ♪

♪ Please let this song be a rainbow ♪

♪ I've got my Cialis
So I shall not fail ♪

♪ Please don't deny my advances ♪

♪ For tonight you're going
to take it in the pail ♪

That's the butt.
It's what you thought.

♪ And please let this song
be a rainbow ♪

♪ I made it for you
This shit cuts like a knife ♪

♪ Forever I'll follow this rainbow ♪

♪ To that 50-year-old
sweet pot of gold ♪

♪ That seems to grow foxy
instead of old ♪

♪ From which I hope
to never be paroled ♪

♪ My angel in a centerfold ♪

♪ She plays more than Sousa
upon my fife ♪

♪ My jaw-droppingly beautiful wife ♪♪

Thank you.

Thank you.

Number one:
Engage in romantic love.

Number two:
Say "please" and "thank you."

Good manners
should be applauded.

I recently landed
in Milwaukee, Wisconsin to go...

Thank you for
your beer and sausage,

not to mention your
motherfucking cheese curds.

Oh, boy.

I was going to do a show
in Milwaukee.

And thanks
to a U.S. air flight

on an airline that
shall remain nameless,

that was
90 fucking minutes late,

I was in a hurry.

I was in a rental car.

I was trying to get
onto a crowded highway

to get to my show,

and I was on a ramp
that was merging with another ramp.

Folks, let's talk
about merging for a second.

What the fuck?

I think we all know by now

you take turns.

But sometimes when you're in that side
that has the advantage

'cause the other side's
trying to get in,

you just can't help it.

It's their turn, and you're like,
"No, motherfucker. No, no, no, no."

A gentleman performed
this act upon me,

and naturally, I was
fucking incensed.

You fucking kidding me?
It's merge, dude.

It's my turn.

I had steam
coming out my ears.

And I pulled behind him,
and everything changed.

I realized
that he was driving

a salt-caked,
pearlescent Chrysler 300...

which is a fucking
seriously badass attempt

at a car...

with the vanity plate
"Thunder Road."

And I said,

"You magnificent
motherfucker.

If you're going to whip out

your throbbing cudgel
of a cock

and bludgeon the rest of us
about the face and mouth

with your hot rod
fuck wagon,

you may have my place
in line, sir.

You, my friend, are living."

We are all brothers
and sisters.

I don't care
if you're a librarian.

I don't care
if you're a litterbug.

I don't care
if you're a fan of celery.

I don't care
if you're that fucking guy.

I don't care
how low you are.

We're all brothers
and sisters on this planet.

We're all sharing this space,

and we deserve the respect
to treat one another with good manners.

Say "please" and "thank you."
Get the door for each other.

If somebody needs help with their
groceries, jump up and give 'em a hand.

You'll feel so much better,
you'll blow their minds.

It feels incredible.

I can tell you I've crunched the numbers
again and again.

It's a lot more fun to have eight people
with one beer each

than to have one dude
with eight beers.

It doesn't...

It sounds... incongruous...

It sounds incongruous,
but I'm telling you,

I've been back and forth
with this thing six ways to Sunday.

I believe it was
Jesus of Nazareth himself

who said "love thy neighbor
as thyself."

Wise words
from the lamb of God.

I just want to take a moment
to point something out about the Bible.

We're gonna talk a little bit
about the Bible tonight, you guys.

Is the Bible full of great lessons?
No question.

Religious writings,
in general...

the Bible, the Qur'an,
the Tao Te Ching.

Grimm's Fairy Tales,
Battlestar Galactica, the redux.

These holy texts are rife...

with morals
and lessons of value

about how to be decent
to one another

and how to share
our space and our planet.

But when Jesus said something like
"love thy neighbor as thyself"...

I heard that in Sunday school,
and I said,

"Fucking nailed it, Jesus.

That...

That's why you're
the teacher, my friend.

Thank you."

And I went home, and I went
to my neighbor Mr. Severson,

and I said,

"I like it like this,
Mr. Severson.

I get a little...

It's a little backhand.

I've got this cleft
in my palm.

You feel that?"

Mr. Severson
liked it as well.

He was my neighbor.
We got along great.

Into junior high,
into high school,

we had a great friendship.

We don't know that's
not what Jesus meant.

We don't.
My interpretation

provided a loving friendship...

between two peoples
on neighboring lands.

Talking to you, Gaza Strip.

Again, I have nothing against
any religion or club,

especially any get-together
where people are like...

"You know what?
We're fucked-up monkeys."

Like, a great part
of our innate being

is we wanna, like,
fuck each other

and eat each other

and kill each other,

and many of those things
at the same time.

We want to fuck each other
while we shit in each other's mouths,

some of us.

The permutations
are endless.

But we've learned,
with socialization,

it's not cool
to just go up to people

and start doing
stuff like that.

So we've established these guidelines
and we have these get-togethers of like...

Everybody come to the big
building just once a week.

Let's just remind ourselves

not to shit in
our neighbor's wife's mouth.

Unless it's consensual,
you know.

Nothing is set in stone.

That's great. And here's
all I'm requesting

of our religious groups in the country
and world, is go to that place.

Go to your club. Go to the Bible...
barn where you all get together,

and talk about the lessons
and learn about decency

and compassion
and how to treat one another.

Then go to your job
at the Senate

and don't talk...
you don't have to talk about the Bible.

Just bring the decency
and compassion like that...

That's all...

I want to coin a phrase,

and let's try and get this
going as a catchphrase.

"A separation
of church and state."

Or something like that.

Like, just spread it out,
see if it catches on.

I really love that saying of Jesus,
"love thy neighbor as thyself."

Unfortunately, he said it
in the Book of Leviticus.

And I think
we all know by now

that Leviticus is the most fucked-up book
in the Old Testament.

Leviticus, of course,
is the book that details

the punishments
for menstruating women.

If you like comedy,

go home and curl up
with Leviticus.

The writers of The Onion
are handed Leviticus

when they show up
for work the first day.

As they say in Leviticus
of a menstruating woman,

"when her flowers
be upon her,

she is unclean,
she must be sent away."

If she should touch any linens,
those linens must be burned.

If she sits in a chair,
the chair is fucked.

This is the Bible, you guys.

What dicks who wrote
this book of the Bible

that were so freaked out
with the simple nature of a woman's body

that they wrote it down
in the Bible?

The fuck?

Do not fret, ladies.
If you should be so filthy...

there is hope in Leviticus.

You may be exonerated
if you bring two turtles

to the priest at the temple.

What the fuck is that?

I've lost so much sleep
on these turtles.

What value did turtles
once possess

that we have no record of?

I love...

I love animals.
I love nature.

But I have torn open
so many fucking turtles,

looking for a pearl or...

ambergris or spermaceti.

I don't...

There must be something
beyond their delicious meat.

It's upsetting to me.

And I love to imagine
these dicks

that wrote
the Book of Leviticus

hanging out at the temple.

They've written
these guidelines.

They've been disseminated
among the people.

And they're just hanging out
waiting for people to start showing up

and being holy.

And the leader of the dicks
at one point says,

"You guys, what's with
all these fucking turtles every place?"

"Oh, sorry.

Steve wrote that part.
He just loves turtles.

We don't... I don't know
what it is with the turtles."

"Steve!

Money or fucking wine, bro.

We've been over this.

You know what, Steve?
You're not writing any more of the Bible.

Go... press
some more olives.

Shithead."

And that is the story
of the lost book of Steve.

Considered lower even
than the Gnostics.

Leviticus is also one
of the places in the Bible

that tells us homosexuality
is an abomination.

And I quote,

"if a man lies with a man
as one lies with a woman,

they have done
what is detestable.

They must be put to death."

The Bible!

It fucking says that
in the Bible.

I disagree with that notion.

I'm astonished
that this never comes up.

And these writers...

"Hang on. Just give me
one second, please.

Two turtles to the temple,

and she may be exonerated.

Yeah. Two what, now?

Excuse me? Two bros?

What? Uh, they...

Oh, Jesus.
That is so uncool.

They... And they
fully love each other?

Uh, yeah, kill 'em.

I guess. Right, guys?

What choice do we have?"

And I'm very glad
to be alive

at a time when
it's finally evolved

to the point where this issue
is in the public eye

and we're finally fucking
slowly turning it over.

Thank God. 2013.

How many decades has it been...

The...

How many years has it been

since we shitty white people,
with our hands in our pockets,

were like, "You know what, you guys?
No, no, no.

Um, it's cool. Everyone can ride the bus
and sit wherever you want.

That's our bad.

Um, it was confusing

'cause we used to
capture you and own you

like a commodity,
so, you know...

But, no, use the water
fountains, all that stuff. Sorry."

That was before my lifetime.

And now it's 2013,
and we're still debating

if, like, I don't know, if we should
give everybody the same stuff.

Here's the thing.
It's like two people loving each other

and, with or without children,
trying to build

a loving, productive household
and be good citizens.

It sounds good, you know.

They play a good game,
but have you read Leviticus?

So it's great this issue
is getting attention.

However, I am irked

by all the attention
that it's getting,

all the ruckus and hubbub

about same-sex marriage

when all the while

motherfucking vegetarians
are marrying, bearing children...

right on these streets.

Their fucking... filthy
herbivorous urchins

are prancing
down your sidewalks

with a canvas bag
full of kale.

"I use one bag.
I know how to pronounce 'quinoa.'"

And I am fucking pissed.

They're making a mockery

of the sanctity
of eating animal flesh.

It shall not stand.

Please. Please.

They call it the Good Book.

I find it a bit uneven.

You know what is a good book?
The motherfucking Hobbit.

Or There and Back Again.

That is a good fucking book.

Instead of legislation
founded squarely upon the Bible,

I'd like to see...

some laws pitched based on the writings
of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien.

That shit makes sense.

Elrond was elected to lead
the elves at Rivendell

not only despite
his androgynous nature

but quite likely because
of the magical leadership

inherent in a well-appointed
bisexual elf wizard.

That's the guy you want
picking shit out for your community.

Who do you want
throwing your gala?

Who do you want to hand menu selections
and a color palette to?

David Bowie
or a fucking Mormon?

What the fuck?

Was Elrond
in a gay marriage?

We don't know because it's
none of our goddamn business.

Whatever the nature
of his elvish lovemaking,

which I happen to know
a little something about...

I can tell you this is
a frighteningly accurate depiction.

Their genitals are
more velvety and bluish,

but if there was a sheet here
with a light behind it,

you could not tell
the difference.

And they like to bring 'em in and stop,
which is not quite touching,

and then back out again.

Fucking drives 'em crazy.

That's neither here
nor there.

The point is, no matter what Elrond
was getting up to in the bedroom,

it doesn't matter
what you do in your bedroom.

You can do whatever you want,
as long as you don't hurt anybody

or anybody's property.

If you're in your bedroom,
if you want to get it on

with your elvish
weird genitals,

or if you want to take a cantaloupe
and throw it in the microwave

for 20, 30 seconds...

Don't go over 40.

That pulpy center heats up.

Let me tell you something
for nothing.

You want to put
a 45-degree chamfer

around the edge
of that hole

because that outer rind
can really chafe.

I've read this.

I don't know if it was
Martha Stewart or... Dr. Phil.

I don't care... If that's your thing,
if you're a melon fucker,

don't bring it in
to the workplace.

No matter what Elrond
got up to,

it did not affect his ability
to perform his job

like a boss.

And that is to provide travelers
with great directions.

No matter what,
the citizens of Middle-earth

seemed to remain
in pretty good spirits

as long as they were
packing Longbottom Leaf into their pipes.

A lesson we could all do
to pay a little attention to.

And even on a long road trip
to the dragon's mountain lair,

they did not forget to say
"please" and "thank you."

I think you get it.

Number three:

Use a handkerchief,

hand kerchief or hanky.

Let's see what
I'm rockin' tonight.

Field of light taupe

with red roses.

Weren't expecting that,
were you?

Another bonus:
If you want to get with a lady...

of a higher quality,
start throwing around the color taupe.

Boom.

It's quite magical.

My dad had two rules
when I was a kid:

wear a clean white
T-shirt every day

and always carry
a handkerchief.

I said, "Dad, you
can wear a T-shirt

and look like a nerd
or Ron Swanson.

I'm gonna show a little chest bush and
look like motherfuckin' McConaughey."

Sadly, the reality

is somewhere more
between Chiklis and Sizemore,

weird Belushi
or Galifianakis cousin.

When I suggest it,
they say,

"I don't want
a rag full of snot

in my pocket or my purse."

Nor do I.

Suggesting that you have
toilet paper in your home

doesn't mean I want
paper full of effluvia

hanging around
in the house.

But if you're
at a bus stop

and someone has a face and hand
full of snot and mucus,

you're a motherfucking
superhero.

Think about
all the occasions

that a handkerchief
saves the day.

The list is endless.

For drying
someone's tears...

If a...

Fuckin' New York, man.

An old lady is crying
in the gutter.

Yeah!

Humorous in
the right context.

If someone's tears
need drying,

if a severed artery is
in need of a tourniquet.

Use it as a hot pad
to change the smoking magazine

on your anti-tank weapon.

Poke it into your hand
to make a nifty pouch

for collecting
pussy willows and acorns

and bear's teeth
down by the fightin' ring.

If you should find yourself
in the vicinity of the Netherlands

and you spot a hole
in a dike,

plug the hole
with your hanky

and go get
some apple pancakes

because that shit
is delicious.

There's no way

this is not gonna be
my first hit single.

♪ Keep a handkerchief in your pocket ♪

♪ That was my father's rule ♪

♪ It looked bitchin'
on my neck in Cub Scouts ♪

♪ And it saved my bacon in school ♪

♪ 'Cause when I'd
get whooped in a fight ♪

♪ I'd never soil the floor ♪

♪ I'd wrap it around
my knife handle tight ♪

♪ And even the fucking score ♪

♪ Hankies can make you seem politer ♪

♪ Wipe ejaculate from your chin ♪

♪ Or when you break and enter ♪

♪ Erase the prints
from where you've been ♪

♪ For gravy or mud
or even menstrual blood ♪

♪ It can protect your eyes
from a spunky flood ♪

♪ You just gotta have your hanky ♪

♪ For wiping your tears
when you wish ♪

♪ You could still get hard
after all of that wine ♪

♪ And when you run out
of toilet tissue ♪

♪ A hanky will do just fine ♪

♪ For a sniffle or a sneeze
It'll shoo away bees ♪

♪ When you have to suck a dick
It's a cushion for your knees ♪

♪ You just gotta have your hanky ♪

♪ In love play with Justin Bieber ♪

♪ Use your hanky as a gag ♪

♪ Then he can play
the naughty sweeper ♪

♪ And clean your chimney
with his sooty rag ♪

♪ When your lover has been pleased
it'll wipe away the cheese ♪

♪ And the suppuration
from your venereal disease ♪

♪ You just gotta have your hanky ♪

♪ Dad, I always carry my hanky ♪ ♪

Thank you.

Thank you.
The Hanky Song.

Number four:

Eat red meat.

Number five:

Get a hobby.

"Hobby" is
an unfortunate word

for something that can have
such beautiful meaning in one's life.

On the plus side, it shares
a root with the word "hobbit,"

which could not be a more charismatic
sequence of consonants and vowels.

But on the downside, it's just one
of those words that sounds wrong.

"Hobby."
Like "underpants."

So instead of "hobby"
I choose to use the word "discipline."

Get a discipline.

You may or may not know

that when I'm not making
an ass of myself in front of you

or working as an actor,
I'm making things out of wood

in my shop in Los Angeles.

Thank you for applauding.

But I want you to take
the notion of that applause

and find the dozens,
or hundreds,

of local artisans
around you

that aren't
on Parks and Recreation.

Go watch them make boots

and stained glass and fucking soup

and applaud for them

and support them.

Right now. Go.
Good night.

Woodworking and making things
with your hands

is not only not nerdy,
it's fucking sexy.

It you want to, like,
up the delicious factor in your life,

find out what
you love to make.

And it could be so many things...
food, music.

One of my best friends
is a CPA, and his thing is that he...

Yeah, right on. Thank you.

He loves to make
all the numbers right.

He's admittedly OCD.

But that's his jam. He's like, "I love to
get everybody's fucking paperwork."

And like...
You've seen it...

You know, simple mind. Like, all these
fuckin' numbers going down the screen.

And he's like...

That's his trip, where it's like,
yes, done, boom.

Whatever it is,
whatever it is you love to do,

that is the sexiest
part of you.

And it hits a button.
When you see somebody making something,

it just hits that
nesting button of, like,

"Oh, you're fucking knitting?
You want to make a fucking nest and shit?

Fuck yeah."

One of the things that,
I think,

keeps us from doing
what we love

and expressing what's great
about ourselves as individuals

is the amazing inventions

that have taken over the world,
certainly our world.

These things are incredible.
It's a miracle machine,

these and the computer
and the Internet and all that stuff.

It's insane.
It's going to, hopefully,

bring our planet together
in a network

quickly enough
so that our children and grandchildren

can save the planet
from us.

Please. We're sorry.

Please clean up our shit.
We love you.

But the thing that
I don't like about those...

And I'm speaking to you
as an addict here.

I tried Twitter last year
for a couple of weeks.

It pissed me off so much.

I think it feeds
on this part of human nature

that always thinks things could be better
for us somewhere else.

If you're not
experiencing ecstasy,

then you're like,
"Yeah, this is okay.

But, man, it'd be fucking cool
if I was in Tucson right now."

It's something that we have.
It's the human condition where it's like,

"Aw, man.
Here I am at NYU.

Man, it'd be fucking
so cool at Stanford."

Well, now we have
a window in our pocket

to Stanford and Tucson
and wherever the fuck else we want to be.

And we can distract ourselves.
We fill in the lulls in our day

with nothing
on these devices.

You finish your transaction.
Gotta do my work.

I gotta do this.
I gotta pay attention. That's done.

What's going on in Tucson?

Okay. Kind of boring.

Oh, that's kind of fun...
Eh, next.

And when you add that up...
For me, after a couple of weeks,

I was like, "How much time
did I just fuckin' spend

idly going like this
down my phone?"

That's when I
used to read books.

That's when I used to talk
to the people standing in front of me.

And it really made me mad
in New York

because something I love
about New York

is its obviously
vibrant citizenry

fucking shoving,
elbowing down the streets.

Everybody's living
like a motherfucker.

It just... Children,
little old ladies.

"Get the fuck outta my way."

And there's this sense of like,
"Hey, move. Move! Fuck you!"

There's a life.
There's a vibrancy.

And now everyone
is doing this,

and so you have to go up
to people and be like,

"Excuse me.
Fuck you.

Sorry. Go ahead."

And so, what I said was

I have to wean myself
off of this.

I eventually came back
to Twitter, admittedly,

but I announced I'm only going
to disseminate information,

I'm not going to participate
socially, and it's working.

Because I made that announcement,
I don't feel like I have to like,

"What did everybody say?"

Because that would
take up my whole day

and I wouldn't get
to make shit out of wood

and I wouldn't get to write
these hilarious jokes about the Bible.

Here's the thing
that I'm suggesting.

Instead of playing
Draw Something,

fucking draw something.

That's what I'm saying.

Take the cleverness
you apply

to Words With Friends
or Scrambly Town

and apply it to making
some kick-ass cornbread.

Cornbread With Friends.
Try that game.

Everybody loves
that fucking game.

I liken learning
a new discipline

to, uh, giving oral sex.

The first few times
you do it,

you're gonna
embarrass yourself,

you're gonna ruin
some raw materials,

you're gonna contract
some flesh wounds.

And after a few times,
you start to get the hang of it.

In woodworking...

Everybody knows
what a chisel is.

It's a long,
flat piece of steel,

the end of which forms
a wedge-shaped tip

that you sharpen
to a very sharp edge,

so sharp and strong
that you can use it

to shave wood
like soap or butter.

And the first time
you do that correctly,

you're hooked,
you're bewitched.

And everything in a wood shop
is just some version of that chisel.

A saw blade
in a circular saw

is just 36 little chisels
in a machine that spins around.

It's all just a form
of a chisel shaping wood.

And when you realize, "I can shape
this wood into anything I want to,"

it's so powerful and I know that I have
a lifetime of study in front of me

that will be
incredibly pleasing,

just like eating pussy.

And furthermore,

if you have one of these miracle machines
called the human body,

these things are insane.

Have you guys seen
shit like... fuckin'...

Have you seen crazy,
like, fuckin'...

That's just the tip of the iceberg,
ladies and gentlemen.

These things are insane.

We all have one of these.

I can shovel a fucking trench a mile long.
I can build a barn.

There's all these things
I can do,

and then there are things
much more talented people can do

that are way better
than that.

But we all have our place.

And I just feel like,
if you have one of these,

we're somewhat obligated
to do more with it

than work out these muscles
and these muscles.

That's all. I feel like it makes for
a much more delicious life.

And I can't talk
about tips for prosperity

without talking
about the joy of work,

finding work that you love.

It's so sad that
so much of our society says,

"Man, thank God
it's Friday.

Thank God five of the seven days
of my life are fucking over,

because I hate
five-sevenths of my life.

Now I'm gonna spend two-sevenths
getting drunk at The Olive Garden

so I don't have to think about
the upcoming five-sevenths.

Thank God!"

That's so sad.
Find something to do that you love,

or at least something you can do
that you can tolerate

so that you can then have time
to do what you love after work.

Maybe it's grow things
in the garden or whatnot,

fuck cantaloupes,
whatever your thing is.

It's your business.
I'm not asking questions.

But, I mean,
work is a privilege.

You just have to find
the right work.

I mean, we've got
a long life to live,

and you can't just watch videos
and hang out in the pool.

I've tried that.
It's cool for a minute,

and then you're
super depressed.

Like, "What, am I gonna just
fuckin' lay in the pool?

I should be fucking
making salad forks."

We've lost the notion
that working outside

and working at things
that take muscle

or things
that get you dirty...

We've come to think
of those types of work

as being beneath us,
and that's wrong.

Those kinds of work are really noble.
It's amazing. Like...

Don't clap for me.
Clap for the farmers of America.

'Cause they're still there.
Like, there's this huge population

that we're
not really aware of

'cause they're not
on UpRocks.com

or wherever else we look.

They're not there.
They're out there,

like, shouldering the burden
for so much of our country.

All I'm saying is that
the internal combustion engine,

the telephone,
the hardline telephone...

amazing miracles
in their day.

But the thing
about the phone,

when you hang it up
on the wall,

you then don't come back
every few minutes

to see if it's gonna
do something cool.

"No, hang on, you guys.
Hang on.

No, it just...

I wanna see if it's
gonna refresh or...

I know. I wanna come
play baseball, too, but...

there might be
a worthy distraction.

You guys go ahead."

That's all I'm saying,
is baseball is better...

than waiting for that.

Get your hands dirty.

Make shit with your hands.

Give excellent head.

Get a hobby.

By the way,
had a little news.

I've heard some rumblings.

I just want to take
a brief moment

to say something
to the gentlemen.

If a lady says to you,

"I can't wait to get
your dick in my mouth,

I love to suck your dick,"

she is lying to you.

She's telling you
a beautiful lie.

She's giving you
a generous gift.

You need to reciprocate
that shit.

You guys,
it's a relationship.

It's absolutely equal.

When you think about it,
a dick...

is like a thumb
with a pee hole.

How good can
your thumb taste?

You know, they're not
sitting at work, thinking,

"Man, I wanna fucking get
Eric's dick in my mouth ASAP.

I just love the way
his dick tastes."

That's false.

They're giving you
a gift, guys.

Give it back.
It's only fair.

I wish this song
was about eating pussy.

I just wrote this.

♪ On the Internet ♪

♪ It's all intercept... ♪

♪ But not every opinion is rendered... ♪

- Stop the audio. Shut it down now.
- Why? Who the hell are you?

I'm an intellectual
property attorney,

and you have stolen
my client's melody.

No, but it falls
under parody.

Biggest misconception
in the world.

No, you can change
all the lyrics you want,

but that tune of notes
belongs to the Cash estate.

Your musical plagiarism
is perfectly actionable.

- Actionable?
- It means I'm able to take action,

which is what we're doing.

I'm sorry,
but my hands are bound.

Is "actionable" a word?

"Actionable."
Yes, it's a word.

- In Cambridge, perhaps.
- It's a word.

What you're saying
is talking-able.

The tune of your song,
I state offline, that we just interrupted

is obviously recognizable as
I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash.

I really think Johnny Cash
would enjoy my song wholeheartedly.

It's about getting
off the computer

and going outside
and respecting life and tasting...

Please.
Stop saying "tasting."

I'm not interested in
your blue prurient language.

Oh, for example, may I draw
your attention, please,

to the line, quote, "my wife and I will
use one another like whores."

"Whores," Mr. Offerman.
What is that poetry meant to evoke?

Love or laughter?

Perhaps you're right.
Maybe he would have taken pleasure

in your particularly
vermillion tint of smut.

Maybe his family
is better off

without his disgusting habits
of rutting and buggery,

and whatever other Pink Floyd
scenarios he enjoyed.

Maybe Johnny Cash was
a disgusting monster.

Go on.

You know you don't have to
hit me for it to be assault.

Um...

it's a good-hearted song.

It's about tasting...

Oh! Oh, here we go,
Margaret.

Exhibit B: Quote, "my wife and I
like to suckle at each other's tits.

I jam my balls inside her so deep,
it gives her the shits."

Are you enjoying this?

- Are you proud of that?
- It gives her the shits.

You're laughing?

That's the best lyric
in the song.

Hang on, sir.
If you'll just let me...

Let you what?
Jam parts of you into me so deeply

that I, too,
am forced to defecate?

No! God. I...

I will comply with this order.
I get it.

I don't agree with it,
but I will respect it.

I just wanted to say
that my song is about tasting...

Fine. Tasting what?

Pussy.

A song no one will ever see
in this special because it's cut.

They can probably
find it on YouTube.

Who are you...

Don't worry about it.

- What are you doing?
- Nothin'.

Why are you looking
over my shoulder and winking?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

It's just you and I
here in my wood shop.

Mr. Offerman, if you
are somehow suggesting

that you're going
to inform people

that they can search for your songs
on YouTube, I must ask you to stop.

The song that I am legally
prohibited from showing you

is about eating pussy.

Thank you.

I thank you.

That's what I love about Megan.
I was working on that song.

I was running her through these lyrics,
and she said,

"That one is pretty good,
but I feel like it should be dirtier,

like we should be sucking
on each other's tits or something."

And I said,
"I fucking love you."

And then, of course,
I had to top it.

And so I said,
"Okay, how about this?"

And I read her back
about shoving my balls inside her,

and she laughed so hard,
she fell on the kitchen floor.

And I said, "We're gonna
stay together forever.

You're all right
with me, lady."

Number six:

Go outside.
Remain.

Ooh.

Number seven:
Avoid the mirror.

The mirror, avoid it.

The mirror should be
a maintenance tool.

The mirror should be

for checking to see
if you have shit on your face.

It is not.
It has become so much more.

It's even more evil
than that bitch in Snow White

or that even more evil bitch
in The Chronicles of Narnia,

because the mirror
is a conduit.

You can imagine the tunnels
that shoot off your mirror

and connect with a network
that go to all the billboards

and magazine stands
and advertisements.

Bless you.

And we've all been
programmed for decades

with this barrage
of messaging,

so that when you look in the mirror,
you don't just see this.

You see this,
but you also see

what you've been taught
to compare it to.

So I see my face,
and I see Keira Knightley.

And you get stressed out that
you don't look like people on magazines.

You get upset.
It's so sad when you see your friends.

You're like,
"Why do you weigh 72 pounds?

There's bacon."

Like...

And you go buy shit
or pay surgeons

to cut your face open

and take shit out
or put shit in.

What the fuck?
If you're gonna spend your money,

get something
that works every time,

like bacon.

How... How bad can it be

that cutting your nose off

and, like, sculpting it
with inorganic shit...

Be like, "Oh, thank God.

Phew!
If you saw me before.

My nose was a slightly
different shape.

Like... But after
like thousands of dollars

and a painful surgery,

now it has a slightly...
more of a button on it."

What's the matter with you?

Are you a human being?
Then you're beautiful.

Do you have one of these?
Then you're fucking beautiful.

Go out...

What you're doing
is comparing an organic form,

designed by nature,

with an anorexic,
airbrushed erotic cartoon.

It's never gonna match up.
And if it does, it's gonna be gross.

If you go out in this beautiful
part of the country

and collect one leaf
from every deciduous tree

and one needle or pinecone
from every conifer,

take them all over
to the Javits Center

and lay them out
in a vast array

and then go through them
one by one,

you will not find one
that's not fucking gorgeous.

There are some
that are super fucked up

compared to that other one,

but those trees
aren't worrying about it.

"Yeah, being an elm is okay,

but have you seen
the sycamores?

They're fucking amazing."

It's all beautiful.

Do your friends and family,

do your loved ones
give you affection?

It's 'cause you're beautiful.
If you're not getting enough affection,

try upping the hygiene.

You're beautiful.

Just wash it.

I eschew the mirror
as much as possible.

We have a mirror
in our foyer.

I keep my keys
and my pocket items there.

When I'm leaving the house,
I get my keys, my knife,

my vise grips.

Good to go. And I'm out the door.
Just give it a glance.

If you have leaves in your hair,
that should be addressed.

Draw a line.
Avoid the mirror.

Number eight:

Maintain a relationship
with Jesus Christ.

If it is getting you sex.

I love that pause.

When I was in high school,

there was a cheerleader
who was also a ballerina,

who was also
a born-again Christian.

Fucking hot.

Right? So hot.
I was obsessed with her.

She was super smart,
super funny,

charisma coming out
of her ears.

I wanted her.

The problem was
she would only date you

if you went whole-hog,
full-on born-again Christian,

which would have
been insane.

So I did that.

"I go where? Yeah.
And I cry? Okay, great."

No hesitation.

"Jesus? Yeah, I fuckin' love him.
He's my savior."

I got saved,
and we started dating.

And after four
or five months

of fellowship and prayer,
togetherness,

we rutted
like filthy beasts.

We would say,
"Mom, Dad, Lynette and I

are gonna go to Jesus camp
in Wisconsin for three weeks."

Because we did.
We went to Jesus camp.

And we took part
in the Jesus activities...

the Jesus log roll,

the Jesus potato sack race...

the Jesus hammer throw.

That was my event.

They say one of mine
is still going.

On a clear night
it can be sometimes seen

over the upper peninsula
of Michigan.

"There goes that Christian boy's hammer.

1986."

That's what people
from Michigan sound like.

"Welcome to Detroit."

We would take part in all of
the Jesus games with the other children.

Then we would go and 69
in the woods for three hours.

And we were just discovering

the joys of mawing
each other's crotches.

Like, "Oh, it feels like that

when I fucking maw
on your crotch?"

Just fucking mouthing
pussy and balls and taint

and mud and leaves.

Wisconsin mud is
both clean and tasty.

Just fucking rub
our face in that shit.

"Whoa, that feels amazing.

Whah!

Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

Remember those
first sensations?

Yah!

You're like...

I'm either going to the hospital
or this is amazing.

Whoo hoo-hoo
hoo-hoo-hoo!

Then we would go sit
around the campfire

and sing Jesus Is the Rock
and He Rolls My Blues Away

with the other children.

The moral of this story...

is that no matter what
religion or school of thought

or scout troop
you belong to,

you should always remember that
it's just a school of thought.

And I don't like the way
organizations like that

can really judge and single people out
and make them pariahs.

If we had been found out

that we were simply having
a really great sex life,

we would've been, like, cast out of
our society, and I think that's terrible.

We cared about each other.
We were good to each other.

It was consensual.
It went on for three to four years.

And it was a great time.
We learned to have a nice relationship.

And so I think, rather than pay attention
to the hard-fast rules,

we should pay more attention to simply
how decent we are to one another,

especially if you're getting laid.

Jesus camp fever.
Catch it.

It's worth it.

Number nine:

Use intoxicants.

Tonight I'm going to
alter that to simply say:

"Continue to use intoxicants."

I feel like you might be
the choir in this instance.

I've spoken a little bit tonight
about the pleasures of hard work.

One of the greatest pleasures
of hard work

is, when you're done,
you get to put on a fucking buzz.

It's a deal that we have in our country
that's an amazing deal.

If you see your wastrel friend
at the liquor store,

like, "John, what's up
with the 12-pack?"

"Sorry, man." "Do you even have
your paper route anymore?"

"Sorry. I'll put it back.
I'll just get beef jerky."

But if you see the same friend and say,
"John, what's with the 12-pack?"

And he says, "I just got off
a shift at the lumber mill,"

you say, "Enjoy
those 12 beers, John."

That's the deal we have.
It's a great deal.

I love working hard.
I love it, spending a day in my shop,

using my muscles,
getting filthy.

It's so fun. Maybe it's a boy thing,
but I love to get dirty.

Covered in sawdust,
sweaty, exhausted,

that first icy Corona
tastes like the jizz of the Lord,

ladies and gentlemen.

Which I have to imagine

is the most magnificent drink,

that luminous pearly mead.

The beverage of glory.

It's gotta be the best.

When we work hard, we have
earned the right to use intoxicants.

If you just use
intoxicants...

and I've crunched the numbers
on this one, too...

you get depressed.

It's so great
to strike a balance.

Beer, wine, whiskey

and the lesser spirits.

Taken in the proper doses
and used safely,

intoxicants can provide
some of the most beautiful

and joyous moments
in your life.

They can certainly ignite
your creativity

and just be
fucking really fun.

Or you can use them
like an asshole

and ruin it
for the rest of us

who just wanted to get high
and go outside and look at a maple leaf.

Sometimes religion
and intoxicants

can be combined for
an especially far-out trip.

Some years ago,

a lovely young lady

exploded onto the national
pop country Christian scene

with her nauseating
hit song,

Jesus, Take the Wheel.

I'm really upset
about this song.

This song has
a terrible message.

This song was
hugely popular,

and I don't understand why
Miss Underwood was not called out

for her asinine message.

This young lady
is driving to Cincinnati

to spend Christmas
with her mom and dad.

Her baby is
in the backseat.

She's got a lot
on her mind.

She hits an icy part
of the road.

The car begins to skid.

She throws her hands up
in the air...

and exhorts,

"Jesus, take the wheel...

because I can't do this
on my own."

You better fucking do it
on your own.

Your child is
in the vehicle.

I have nothing bad
to say about prayer.

Maybe pray while
turning into the skid.

Definitely keep your hands
on the fucking wheel!

So I've written
my own version

of that soulful ballad.

Let's all bow our heads
for this one, please.

♪ I was haulin' ass... ♪

♪ Told me to come to the town hall tonight
and sing you this song ♪

Whoopsy-daisy.
Me again.

That's right.
I also represent Carrie Underwood.

She makes me wear bolo ties,
bathe from head to toe in Chaps cologne,

and speech it mellow
like the juveniles.

- Oh, Jesus.
- No, no Jesus. Not for you.

In regard to your laughable parody
of her widely lauded song,

Jesus, Take the Wheel,
Miss Underwood has given me the directive

to perform upon you
a metaphorical basketball rejection.

So please consider your shot
forcibly blocked, Dr. Julius Swerving.

You have been acquired by me.

Are you trying
to say you owned me?

There is no trying up in this mug, no.
You belong to me.

I think the saying is
"I owned you" or "You were owned."

I'm afraid you
have it backwards.

You are the one who has been
taken possession of by me...

in this milkshake yard.

Okay, here's the deal.
Jesus, Take the Wheel

was actually not written
by Carrie Underwood.

So you can't actually stop me
from playing this song.

It was written
by three other people...

uh, Brett James, Hillary Lindsey
and Gordie Sampson.

I know.
Will you please excuse me

while I make an emergency phone call
totally unrelated to this?

Hi. Penelope?

No, three others.
Uh... Mm-hmm.

Yes. Very good.

Oh, dear.
I regret to inform you

that I now represent
all three actual writer-composers.

So it would appear as though
I have neatly shoved

the basketball downward
through the goal hoop.

And what is
their objection to this...

Please, Mr. Offerman.
It is egregiously sacrilegious.

In your work you claim
that Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth

got so much smoke it would have made
Galactus, Eater of Planets, choke.

I'm familiar myself
with Galactus.

I asked Shale from our I.T. department,
a young person,

what that meant, who informs me that
Galactus is a deity of fictional stripe,

a denizen of the universe
created by Marvel Comic Book scribes.

You don't know Galactus?
Galactus is amazing.

- I'm not a Scientologist.
- Marvel universe?

He's enormous.
He's purple.

He looks like he's got
an end table upside down on his head.

He's so big that he eats...

Please don't say "pussy."

I was going to say
that he eats planets.

Don't act like it's insane for me to say
you were going to say "eating pussy."

You've been talking
about eating pussy a lot.

Well, my audience thinks it's funny.

Funny? In the song
you threaten to lynch the pope.

That was written
before this cool new pope.

Oh, my God. Do you think the cool
new pope is Galactus?

Galactus eats planets.
The pope...

The pope does not eat pussy,
Mr. Offerman.

- He's pretty cool.
- That's right.

He's probably up in the Vatican
with all those nuns...

No, Mr. Offerman, the pope
does not eat nun pussy.

I'm saying he gets
some nun pussy.

Please tell me I did not just witness the
birth of a song called Some Nun Pussy.

You may well have.

It's outrageous,
and my clients will not have it.

Don't worry about it.

Stop looking over
my shoulder, Mr. Offerman.

Please stop it.

One second. Anyway, Galactus,
I'll catch you later.

You can check out
my song on YouTube.

♪ Then Jesus ♪

♪ Cleaned the screen ♪♪

Thank you.

Let's just review...
Let's wrap it up real quick.

Engage in romantic love,

which will give you
many opportunities

to say "please"
and "thank you"

and use your handkerchief.

Eat red meat. Perhaps make that
part of your discipline

when you get a hobby.

Go outside.

On your way there,
avoid the mirror.

And maintain a relationship
with Jesus Christ,

preferably while
using intoxicants.

All of these nine tips

add up to form number ten:

paddle your own canoe.

Thank you very much for having me.

♪ Siddhartha says ♪

♪ Life is like a river ♪

♪ The thought of watching it pass me by ♪

♪ Causes me to shiver ♪

♪ So I grab life by the balls ♪

♪ I got 10 tips to deliver ♪

♪ Get off your caboose ♪

♪ Paddle your own canoe ♪

♪ Take the road less traveled ♪

♪ Says Robert Frost ♪

♪ Keep your stone rollin' ♪

♪ So it don't accumulate no moss ♪

♪ Leave the faint of heart ♪

♪ Sucking on your exhaust ♪

♪ Thunder Road ♪

♪ Live a little life ♪

♪ And paddle your own canoe ♪

♪ Don't while it away ♪

♪ Masturbating in the ditches ♪

♪ Put your tackle away ♪

♪ And hitch up your britches ♪

♪ Then provision your boat ♪

♪ With several pulled porks and witches ♪

♪ Indulge in savory meat stuffs ♪

♪ Paddle your own canoe ♪

♪ Young Teddy Roosevelt ♪

♪ Was a weak little puss ♪

♪ But he exercised ♪

♪ And became quite an ornery cuss ♪

♪ Till he could whoop a bear ♪

♪ And also Cuba without a fuss ♪

♪ But got number 26 ♪

♪ And paddled his own canoe ♪

♪ You like to smoke some reefer ♪

♪ And you like to dance ♪

♪ The preacher tells you
to keep your pecker in your pants ♪

♪ But that preacher'd
be kissing your nephew ♪

♪ Given half the chance ♪

♪ You should spend your Sundays ♪

♪ Paddling your own canoe ♪

♪ I might have mentioned ♪

♪ Jesus Christ himself
got high in my van ♪

♪ I told him I wouldn't go to church ♪

♪ And he shook my hand ♪

♪ He said, "My son, just let me
run inside and use the can ♪

♪ Number two ♪

♪ Then let's get some Doritos ♪

♪ And paddle your sweet canoe" ♪

♪ What would Jesus do? ♪

♪ Paddle my goddamn canoe ♪♪

Thank you.

Thank you.