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Three, two, one.

-Ladies and gentlemen, we are in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX

Lovely Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Ladies and gentlemen, we're here in Minneapolis, Minnesota,

high above the ACME Comedy Company theater

with one of my favorites, probably my favorite of all time.

-Nick DiPaolo. -Thank you very much.

-Hey! -Don't feel bad, Nick.

-Okay, I'm sorry. -Thanks for throwing in "probably", Tom.

That's likely.

Ladies and gentlemen, we're high above the ACME Comedy Company theater

where my favorite comedian of all time, and definitely my favorite human being of all time,

Nick DiPaolo, playing a sold out show, ladies and gentlemen. Nick DiPaolo.

Good to see you working with Bernie Madoff.

-I, uh...

So how is the drinking, Tom? Are you off the blow?

Are you shooting the special, tonight and tomorrow?

-Just tonight. -It's sold out.

Well, I think we can find a table for you, or a couch.

What is it you're using these days?

I'd go if he invited me.

-Uh, Don, I don't... -Go fuck yourself, Nick!

I think we got what we need.

Ladies and gentlemen, the guy you came to see,

the one and only, Nick DiPaolo.

Wow! Hello!

Thank you!

Minneapolis, it's been a while.

Wow! Holy shit!

You're applauding like you're at a taping.

What the fuck! Hell, it's like The Price is Right. "Come on down."

I love this place. Seriously, you guys. And it's packed.

I get a little nervous when it's this crowded.

Because, be honest, the place holds about 110 comfortably, we have about 260 in here.

If there's a fire, we're all fucked, you realize that?

All it's going to take is a fat chick with a few drinks in her

and a pair of pumps to turn her chubby ankle on the way to the exit.

Fall down and block us in like a fucking human wine cork.

"Get up, Diane! People are dying!"

"I don't give a shit. I paid for this cheeseburger, I'm gonna finish it on the rug."

We all end up with third degree burns on our face and tits.

And a year from now we are all on an episode of the Doctors, missing our lips, and...

"I was at a comedy club in Minneapolis and this fat chick knocked over a candle with her tits, I think it was."

"I woke up in a hospital, by taking fat from her calves

and putting it on my face for a graft, and..."

It could happen. There's a lot of fat people in this, let's be honest.

Not here, I mean, in general, you know, I'm just saying, but...

Well, here, too. You guys live on like,

fucking bacon grease and heavy cream from like February to June.

Are we a fat country or not? I can't decide.

I saw, you know, Mayor Bloomberg on Meet the Press a couple weeks ago,

and he's like, "For the first time in the history of this country,

more people are dying from obesity than starvation."

What's your fucking point? That's progress, asshole!

Wouldn't you rather drop dead eating a quarter-pounder,

or because you were a quarter pounder? Jesus Christ.

If that's true, more people are dying from obesity than starvation,

we're gonna have to change those late night commercials, you see, the little ones where the...

The African kid sitting in the desert

with a bowl of rice in front of him, flies all over his face.

Gonna have to replace him with a 400-pound Green Bay Packers fan, sitting in his recliner

with a pile of chicken wings on his lap, barbecue sauce in his hair.

"For just 20 cents a day, you can buy this fat fuck a treadmill."

"For another 20 cents, a head of cabbage. He hasn't shit since the early '70s.

It's called roughage.

Help him out. Look at him, he's got whipped cream on the bridge of his nose and he's..."

I think we're a fat country, but then I hear all these commercials late at night

saying just the opposite.

"One in four Americans goes to bed hungry every night."

Why?

Stop off at the fridge on the way to the bedroom, shithead.

Problem solved. Duh!

If you saw a pigeon eating half a cheeseburger, you're bigger than he is,

step on his neck and take it, you fucking idiot.

You're going, you're going to bed hungry in a country that has so much food,

you can get hit in the chest with a slice of pizza from somebody else's plate on a windy day?

What the fuck?

"One in three Americans doesn't know where their next meal is coming from."

Yeah, neither do I!

Might be Wendy's, might be McDonald's, could be Burger King.

I don't know, Tony Roma's.

Every night I sit at home, going, "Should I go to Wendy's or McDonald's? I can't make up my mind!

Well, I guess I have to go to bed hungry again, huh?"

I knew we were fat fucks when Subway sandwich shops had that big controversy.

People were irate they weren't getting a full 12-inch sandwich.

If you're bringing a tape measure to lunch.

"What the fuck! This is 11 and three quarters. I wanna speak to the manager.

I'm gonna fucking waste away to nothing for Christ's sake."

Is this happening in other countries, you know, some guy in France,

"The croissant was supposed to be 12 centimeters. It's only 11. What the fuck!"

How did that get so popular, Subway? They weigh their cold cuts.

Have you ever had a real submarine sandwich? It's like six pounds of meat on it.

These fucks are weighing turkey like it's cocaine.

You look in the back it's like a scene out of New Jack City.

Bunch of black chicks, no tops on, fucking...

Weighing per shoot, fucking American cheese!

"She's got Genoa salami under her left tit. Lift it up."

You know where I learnt to cook? Fucking, that show Lockupon MSNBC.

I know how to make a grilled cheese on a radiator.

Also, a buko on aluminum toilet.

I can make a white wine out of a dirty athletic sock, a D-cell battery and an apple core. Fucking...

Rachael Ray thinks it's a lot of pressure to make a delicious meal in under 30 minutes.

Yeah, try making a delicious meal for your celly, you know,

who set his mother on fire in high school

'cause she didn't cut the crust off his PBJ.

I love Lockup, it's my favorite show.

I recognize lot of those people from the New York subway system on that show.

The shit that goes on in the subway... This is a nice city, you're polite and shit.

You read the fucking stuff that goes on New York's...

I was reading before I came here, on New York Post,

some homeless guy was jerking off on the subway, and some girl filmed it with her cellphone.

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, if you see a beating taking place,

put down the camera and help the guy.

Come on, ladies, let's get involved as a community. What do you say?

That's your first instinct? You see a guy jerking off, and it's take out your camera?

Boy, things have changed. You used to run and scream when I did it back in the...

Why are you masturbating on the subway?

If I was going to jerk off on public transportation, I'm not doing it on the subway.

I'd do it, like, on the ferry, you know, it's, kinda, it's kind of romantic, you know.

And if any of the passengers get hit with friendly fire, I'll blame it on the ocean mist.

How do you masturbate when people are watching you?

When I masturbate in my bedroom I have to put all the family photos face down.

Last thing I need is my Italian grandparents, in their late 90s,

staring at me from a tomato garden.

Grandmother's holding a zucchini. It's very awkward.

I leave my niece's picture up. She's kind of cute, you know.

Oh!

Yeah.

Hey, I don't have all day, folks. I'm busy.

If I did a nut-off to my grandmother's ass I'd be in there three weeks, for Christ's sake.

Big yellow toenails. What the fuck!

Masturbating on the subway, that's a level of horny I haven't got to yet.

I see girls I wanna fuck on the subway all the time. I don't whip it out right there.

I have the decency to wait till I get above ground and duck behind a mail box on the sidewalk on the way home.

Don't you have to be comfortable when you masturbate?

What am I, like, gonna get on the train and go,

"Miss, can I use your book bag as a pillow? Oh, thank you.

Sir, could you hold my feet up with your left hand and my iPad with your right?

Hand out this plastic, it's gonna be like a Gallagher concert here in about five minutes."

Jerking off in public transportation. What a country.

You know you got a shitty sex life when the first words you hear after you come is,

"Stand clear of the closing doors!"

Pretty sure I'll be hearing that from St. Peter in a few years.

What, three Catholics? Holy shit, where am I, fucking Palestine? Come on!

Oh, they didn't even open the bottle. For Christ's sake, I'm busy.

Hey, can we make the material a little thinner, out of the fucking water bottles?

What are these, condoms? They're putting water in that? Jesus Christ!

Mmm, jizz, all right.

Uh, masturbating on the subway. That's just hilarious to me, you know.

I've masturbated in a public place I'm not above that, but it has to be a public place

where there's nobody around, you know, like a Mets game.

You could jerk off on the pitcher's mound on opening day at Citi Field.

Nobody's gonna hear about it, not even on the Internet.

They always blame it on mental illness. The guy masturbating on the subway was mentally ill.

Well, there's mentally ill women. I don't see them playing with themselves on the subway.

Somebody tell them it's okay. What the fuck.

Imagine if girls were doing that on the subway, fellas?

That'd be the most packed subway car in the history of this city.

950 guys just crammed in there, the doors keep opening and shutting.

It's 80 degrees, we all have our shirts off, just staring at her.

She's running out of gas. Get her a Sprite. Jesus Christ.

Guys, and if we saw a girl playing with herself in public we'd take out our cellphone too, right?

But I wouldn't film her, we'd try to get her contact information, fucking.

She's crazy, she likes sex. If this bitch can make a grilled cheese,

I'll marry her. What the fuck.

What am I saying? I did marry her, I uh...

I feel bad for you ladies 'cause you're the victim of this male, sexual deviancy,

you know, we're sick fucks, pulling our pricks out in public and shit.

And you're taking advice from guys on how to avoid this stuff.

This was on New York Timesthis summer, you can Google this.

There's a professor at the University of Colorado, a male professor

telling young girls in his class, "To keep a guy from raping you,

you should either urinate or vomit in front of him."

First of all, if I'm a girl in that class I'm gonna raise my hand and go,

"You know this how?"

Urinate or vomit to scare off a rapist?

That might work unless the guy fucked a bunch of drunk chicks in college.

Every girl I fucked in my 20s was puking and pissing herself. She was shit-faced.

That's how I knew I was gonna get laid.

"No" meant "no", and "I don't feel good", meant, "yes."

And how are you girls gonna piss and vomit on demand? That's my question.

What are you, gonna load up on bad pork and iced tea before running in Central Park?

"Take off your pants, bitch." "Not tonight."

Oh, thank God for those Amtrak clams, I'll tell you.

Here comes the chicken parm from Applebee's.

What if you're a nice Jewish girl and you're fasting that day?

You're all... "Hold on.

Oh, go ahead."

"It's been a while.

Fuck it."

And I'm not making fun of rape, ladies. Nothing funny about rape.

Unless it's happening to a rapist in a prison shower. Then it's fucking hilarious.

Girls, you want to keep a guy from having sex with you,

when he's taking his pants off, just look him in the eye and go, "I love you."

"What are you thinking?

Do you like children?"

Not everything is rape, either. We're always try...

Here's something that's not rape, I'm sick of hearing about.

When a hot female school teacher, like, in her 20s,

fucks a 14 year old boy student.

It's not fucking rape. That is a fantasy for all us fellows.

Okay? That's a rite of passage. You can bang his brains out, he'll be just fine.

Trust me. Fuck him. Fuck him hard! Fuck him long!

People go, "That's not true. That kid's life will never be the same."

Yeah, you got that right. He won't be able to go to the mall without signing 300 autographs on Friday.

He's going to get a big head when they're building a statue of him in front of the gym on Wednesday, fucking...

Statue of the teacher bent over with an apple in her mouth.

Fucking Brian's behind with the condoms. "Hey!"

Yeah, you're always the victim of this shit. I feel bad for you.

I hear about this all the time. I hear about women meeting guys on the Internet,

then the guys kill 'em like a week later.

Yeah, that's... Ladies, that one's kind of on you.

You're picking guys up on the Internet? You know that's a highway, don't you?

Why don't you just get on 95 South at three in the morning in the Bronx,

with a hundred dollar bill hanging out of your ass crack,

holding a sign that says, "Got pussy?"

"Got pussy? Nothing? All right."

Naive girls, I can see them trying to meet guys on the Internet on match.com.

"Oh, look at this guy, he likes hiking..."

Yeah, translation, he's gonna rape and kill you in the woods.

"He's into sunsets.", he's gonna do it after dark.

"Oh, he's into fashion.", yeah, he's gonna make a suit out of your skin

and wear it around the house for the next three weeks.

"Oh, he likes to cook.", yeah, he's gonna make a casserole out of your tits and feet.

Have you had the tits and feet casserole?

It's delicious, by Rachel Ray, recipe, about 40 minutes.

Tits and feet. It's one word, German. Titsandfeet!

Thank you, lady. Don't hold it in.

That's, um..

Jesus. That's... That's hot to me, I'm fucking, you know.

I'm doing a joke about a girl being murdered by some guy on the Internet.

She's giggling like I'm tickling her feet.

That is making me hard as a whale's tooth. Keep that up, sweetheart.

Holy shit, this is psycho.

I'm staying at the Town Plaza Suites, whatever the fuck they call it, that's, uh...

Me and you'll be in the pool, 11 degrees,

but seems like you can take it. I've seen...

This lady hasn't smiled. Fucking thanks for bringing her to the show, fella.

No, the girl next to you.

"You know, Barbara hasn't taken a good shit in two weeks. Let's take her to the comedy club,

and let her stare at the headliner, try to ruin his night."

You look like my grandmother in that picture.

I don't blame you. I have a dark sense of humor, okay?

I really do, I get it from my dad. My dad laughs at the inappropriate shit.

Always did, even as kids, I remember at McDonald's, he'd pile us into the station wagon,

five of us on a Friday night, that was the big treat.

This, like, 80 year old lady comes out of McDonald's with, like, a tray,

and she slips on some ice, and lands on her ass.

My father was laughing till he almost shit his pants.

And we all just joined in, we're pointing at her, laughing out the window.

"Oh, look at the mean family, laughing at that dead lady."

She's got like a bone sticking out of her nylons, my father's wiping his eyes.

"Holy shit, I've never seen anything that funny in my life."

But then he fucked it up. He went and helped her up and shit. What an asshole.

He loves dark shit. This is a true story. I'm at my parents house like 15 years ago.

I'm in the kitchen making a sandwich.

The, the old man's in the living room, and I hear him belly laughing, he's watching TV.

I mean, he's laughing like Robert De Niro in Cape Fear in the movie theater.

My dad...

I stick my head in and see what he's watching. Lady Di's funeral.

He wasn't laughing that she got killed, but apparently one of the horses

that was pulling her casket was shitting in the street.

And that fucking set him off.

And that's funny when you put it all together, a beautiful princess who had a great life,

now she's dead with a palomino shitting an inch from her nose.

Come on, that's fucking hilarious. If you don't laugh at that, you're missing the point.

Funeral's on TV, I hate public grieving.

Good example of that is the roadside makeshift memorials.

Do you guys have those out here?

It's the most tacky fucking thing to me.

If I die in a highway, and the best my friends can do is make a cross

out of two old street hockey sticks,

tie a 12 cent balloon to it. "Oh, thanks for the effort, shitheads, I mean..."

There's always that stuffed animal covered in bird shit.

A teddy bear on the reign, oh, that's gonna cheer up the DiPaolo family, huh, fucking...

It's like, I just don't fucking understand this. Things are getting pretty elaborate, too.

I saw one near my house on the Sawmill Park. It was a pinata hanging out of a maple tree.

Apparently, a van full of illegals tipped over, on that thought, uh?

Do you ever see anybody, uh...

Do you ever see anybody building these memorials? I don't.

Who? The little fucking ninjas run out at three in the morning, and...

Plywood and nail gun, and fucking a welder's mask.

And they're really creative. They can make a cross out of anything.

I don't remember reading the Bible with Jesus being nailed to a PVC pipe, you know.

Do you ever see one that's like 60 yards off the road?

You're like, "How the fuck did he get killed over there?"

What did you do, chase a deer into the woods in your Cadillac, you asshole?"

If my friends build me one of those memorials, it better represent the shit that I loved, and that I hated.

First of all, the cross should be 15 feet high and made of pizza crust

with a pair of fake tits on top,

and a picture of Oprah with a knife in her forehead.

My liberal friends will be like, "Oh, he's kind of right-wingish. Should we light this on fire?"

Go ahead, I like a burnt crust. Fuck it.

I'm always thinking about death. Let's stay on that topic, I enjoy it.

Let's talk about suicide, all right? 'Cause that's been on my mind for about 10 years.

I've been married about 11.

I love suicide stories.

I really do. I don't have the balls to do it, and it fascinates me.

Lot of people commit suicide, that's all right, but then you read of lot of people do it by hanging.

When you read that, do you ask yourself the same question as me?

"How come so many people know how to tie nooses?"

What the fuck! You all had a severe depression in Eagle Scouts? Jesus...

I don't know how to tie a noose. I've seen every Western ever made. The fuck...

My buddy goes, "Ah, well, you can Google that shit."

"Oh, yeah, that's what I want to do. I'm thinking about killing myself.

I'm gonna spend the last hour on this planet trying to reboot

my piece of shit laptop, which is the reason I'm killing myself in the first place."

What happens when you Google something?

You end up going on a little web journey you don't mean to take.

You start off with, "How to tie a noose?", then, it's, "How to tie a necktie?"

Like, "Yeah, this is pretty interesting." Fucking...

20 hours later, you're still reading. "Holy shit, this is fascinating."

Wife finds me in the basement, hanging, nice Windsor Knot

I picture my wife walking in and seeing like 100 unsuccessful nooses all over the floor.

Big silly bows and shit.

"He tried a slipknot. What a fucking asshole!

No wonder why his neck is red. He must've been up there for fucking two hours.

It's a slipknot for Christ's sake!"

I'm a comedian, I'll probably try to hang myself on the road in a cheap motel.

It won't work. The fucking beam'll break,

and the next morning I'm the only guy with a piece of rope

around his neck at the continental breakfast, you know.

"Ooh, sausages. Hmm."

"Fucking eggs are a little dry, huh."

Why hanging? It doesn't always work!

If you don't do it right you look like an asshole.

Your friends find you, you're in the bedroom hanging, kicking your feet,

with a shit in your pants, half laughing, half crying.

They start spinning you around like The Elephant Man.

Don't do that. Pick something that's 100 percent full-proof, you know.

I mean, drink a bottle of vodka, take 100 Vicodin, rent a Maserati.

See what it can do.

Hang out with Paris Hilton for the weekend then lick your fingers, you know what I mean?

Do something...

Tell your wife she looks fat when she's having her period.

You'll be dead in six seconds.

"Suicide by tampon", I call that one, fucking.

"You're a bloated mess."

They call people who commit suicide cowards.

That's the cowardly way out. Who came up with that? What a bunch of horseshit.

Do you believe that? I don't believe that.

Everybody in this room at one point in your life, has had these words,

"I'm gonna fucking kill myself right now!"

But you didn't do it. You know why? 'Cause you're a pussy.

And you know who the biggest pussies are? The people that believe in heaven.

You know, the guy at the funeral going, "Oh, that guy's in a better place now."

"What are you waiting for?"

I mean, if you believe that shit, why are you still here?

You should be packing. What the...

That's like, "Oh, we have a house for you in Honolulu."

"No, I want to stay in Buffalo. I like Buffalo.

I wanna work at the mattress factory 80 hours a week,

and fuck my fat wife and my 11 kids. You know, I'm fine, yeah."

But we wanna go in our sleep, 'cause you don't know it happens.

I think the next best thing to that is being whacked.

Because it's like going in your sleep. You've seen mob movies, right?

Mobsters, what do they do when they get whacked? They're always having a good time,

they're around their friends.

That's how it should go with your family. You're at a cookout.

"Oh, corn on the cob!" Your niece sticks an ice pick in your neck.

"A little further, Heather. He's still moving. A little bit further."

Then they play corn all over my body for the next two hours.

"Yeah, we'll bury him later. That guy was sucking us dry, financially, wasn't he?"

I'm a negative guy, you know.

Very negative.

I got a buddy who's Mr. Positive. He's reading a book right now called Creative Visualization.

Do you know what that is?

It's this method where you visualize something enough it'll actually happen for you. Shit doesn't work.

If that worked I wouldn't be here right now.

I'd be in Jennifer Aniston's bathroom, pulling one of her pubes out of my eye teeth.

While she's laying on her bed, diddling herself to my Comedy Central Presentsspecial.

I've been fantasizing about that for 12 years. Nothing.

Every time I'd open my eyes in my own shower with a fistful of PRELF,

and crying like a baby, yelling, "Rachel!" and my wife comes in.

It's true, this is all true.

I don't believe in that mind-body connection. It's a bunch of horseshit.

They're two separate entities, they have nothing to fucking do with each other.

And apparently I'm right, 'cause I read in the New England Medical Journal

this psychologist did a study of cancer patients over a 10 year period.

Nice sample, by the way.

And he fuck... This is the conclusion he came to, people who were dying of cancer

and have a positive attitude live no longer than ones who have a negative attitude.

Don't you love that fucking story?

It's true. What do you think, cancer crawls up your ass, gets into your bloodstream,

races to your brain, and goes, "Is that a smile on his face?

We better get the fuck out of here."

That's not what cancer does. Cancer goes, "Is that a smile on his face?

He's mocking us. Let's meet at his liver on Sunday. Fuck him!"

Only one person has beat a fatal disease with his positive attitude.

Okay? And that was Magic Johnson.

And that doesn't count. His first name's Magic for Christ's sake.

Magic had diagnosed HIV positive,

goes on to put on 50 pounds of pure muscle over the next 20 years.

The hell am I doing P90x for? I could just blow a male figure-skater and be in great shape in three weeks.

See, that joke never works in New York. I love Minneapolis.

God bless you. You're a nice blend of progressive and psycho. I like that.

Stay right where you are, I fucking love you.

Negative guy... I have a caffeine problem. Just found that out.

I mean, I'm almost allergic to caffeine. I was laying in bed the other night thinking,

"How come I've been like in 12 fistfights before noon time over the last 20 years?"

I'm like hyper-allergic... You guys have a couple cups of coffee, you get a little jittery?

It's like bath salts for me. I'll chew your fucking face off and leave you in the street.

I go to Dunkin' Donuts, an hour later I'm naked in my driveway, wrestling three cops, fucking...

They're tasering my balls. "What's he, on angel dust?"

"No, I had a cappuccino with three sugars.

Get back in your car, or I'll chew fucking your nose off."

But I get really nasty as opposed to my natural state.

I've had some of the worst fights with my wife when I was jacked upon coffee.

Last January, true story. It's a Sunday morning, my wife comes down the stairs. She goes,

"My nieces and nephews are coming over, we're going to a petting zoo, and you're coming with us."

And I'm like, "I've been following The Patriots for 16 weeks.

Today's the first playoff game,

but yeah, what better time to look at a goat laying in his own shit up in the woods?"

Cut to me, like, half hour later, I'm in a barn and I'm looking at animals.

I have like a pot of coffee in my gut. I'm crawling out of my skin.

This guy next to me goes to me, in the most condescending tone, he goes, "That's a yak."

I go, "Yeah, I know it's a fucking yak. There's a sign on the cage. I know how to read, asshole."

And then I realized he was talking to his four year old son on the other side of him.

Is that not a classic caffeine?

How do you get out of that one?

I just stayed in the asshole role, went to the next cage and there was a goat in there.

I just looked at him and I went, "Let me guess, duck, what is that, a pigeon?

Come on, Dr. Seuss, you know fucking everything. What is that, an alligator?

I don't know anything! Right, asshole?"

Even his little kid was looking at me, like, "Who pissed in your Cheerios, Mister?"

I'm like, "Fuck you, you little pussy!" I threw a pumpkin at him

and my wife pushed me out of the park but...

Another caffeine story, this was about a month and a half later,

I'm at White Plains Airport, sitting next to this obese guy, for like, two hours, ignoring his smell.

Hadn't said a word to each other. All of a sudden he gets up,

he looks at me, in this tone of voice, he goes, "I'm going to the shitter, watch my bag."

I'm like, "How do I know your bag's not gonna explode in 30 seconds?"

He goes, "Do I look like a terrorist?" I go, "That depends." He goes, "Depends on what?"

I go, "If I was a cheeseburger."

"If I was a fresh garden salad I'd feel very comfortable watching your bag for the next 20 minutes,

or a pack of Sweet'N Low,

but you like butter, let's be honest."

Can't help it. Little nasty.

My wife's nasty, so I fell in love with her. She's got an acid tongue.

I'm serious. I love the wife,

but it's not her fault, she snores like a wild animal, number one.

She's 5',5", 108 pounds soaking wet.

When she snores she sounds like Precious with a sinus infection.

It's a real deceptive snore. It's like...

It's like trying to take a nap next to a cappuccino machine, you know.

Can I get more foam with this one?

I don't know what to do. It's the middle of the night. I'm fucking pinching her nose,

I'm standing on her throat with my Timberlands.

I'm sleeping in other women's beds, nothing is helping.

I'm fucking my neighbor, I can hear my wife snoring from my house. I mean, Jesus Christ!

One night she was so loud I looked up her nose with a penlight.

I thought I was gonna see 50 illegals, playing kazoos, you know, fucking.

"Why it got to be illegal?" "Who else is gonna do that kind of work for eight bucks?" Fucking.

It's very unattractive when a woman snores.

It's fun when you're in your 20s, you're in college, you pick up a fat chick.

She's got labored breathing anyways, you ply her with fucking Heinekens,

and she passes out, and she's snorting away. You're like, "Oh, that's adorable.

She's dreaming that she's digging for truffles in Italy, somewhere."

Then you make her a 12 pound omelet, and kick her out of the apartment. "You get the..."

Oh.

My wife has a mean sense of humor, this is what attracted me to her.

I remember, we'd get in a fight...

Before we were married, we're fighting, and I'm trying to think of the meanest thing I could say to my wife,

and I go, "All you broads look the same naked, from the waist down."

She goes, "Yeah, too bad all you guys don't."

"Where the fuck did that come from?"

I cried on the couch for like a week and a half, I couldn't...

I was going through this mental Rolodex of all the guys that she's fucked.

"Shawn, that little pudgy guys got a big dick? How is that possible, fucking?

"Kevin?"

Boy, did that one get me. Oof!

Couple of months ago, I'm down in my man cave, watching Saving Private Ryan.

And that movie gets to me a little bit, I'm a little jingoistic like that.

I go misty-eyed at the end of the movie. My wife comes busting in, unannounced,

she goes, "Are you crying?"

I'm like, "No, fucking allergies.

Why don't you try dusting this shit hole once every 10 years?"

And without missing a beat, she goes, "Really, what are you allergic to, being a pussy?"

Fucking slams the door and leaves. I'm fucking, "What the fuck. Where did that come from?

This girl's brilliant. I have to marry this bitch."

Gotta admit, that's pretty goddamn quick on her feet.

I live in the suburbs in New York, I drive into the city every night for the last 12 years to tell jokes.

Every night for the last 12 years, I'm leaving the house, she goes, "I love you."

Finally, last week I go, "Why do you have to fucking say that every night?"

She goes, "Because something could happen to you."

"But I'm getting the impression you want something to fucking happen to me."

Might be pitching a no-hitter. She'd be the player that comes up to you on your team

in the eighth inning, "You're pitching a no-hitter, you know?"

"I'm saying that out of love." Fuck you!

"I love you, I love you." I go, "You know what, you say something over and over again,

people become desensitized to it. Doesn't mean anything."

Like the N-word, you hear it in every rap song. It doesn't mean anything. It's not that shocking anymore.

I tell my wife that. I'm leaving the house the other night,

she looks me in the eye and instead of saying, "I love you", she goes, "You my nigger."

I'm like, "You're my nigger, too."

She's about that tall. Right there maybe.

Guys, can wives get you more angry than anybody on the face of the...

She knows how to push my buttons... Here's the one that she does that makes me go fucking crazy.

Without coffee, I get up, milk in me, I go to the shit house.

We'd be arguing, she would go like, "Why are you yelling?"

"Uh, 'cause I can't hit you."

Yeah.

I'm in a fight, I can't raise my hands to you, now, I can't raise my voice?

Who the fuck did you marry, Stephen Hawking? Jesus Christ!

She's nuts. I have a gun, she doesn't know it and I won't tell her,

'cause I don't want her to find it and, you know, use it on me when she's having her period,

I say something wrong during Jeopardy...

"Alex didn't finish the question!"

So she doesn't know I have a gun. This is what she does to protect us,

she hides steak knives all over the house. Behind photos, and shit.

I wanted to cut my steak, I had to climb a bookshelf for like seven minutes the other night.

Is that insane? Fucking knives? How's that gonna help if somebody...

Who's breaking in? Somebody from West Side Story?

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Yeah, I have two Jets and a couple of Sharks on the front lawn trying to get into my house,

and my girlfriend Maria's missing."

Is she in that? I saw it a long time ago. I'm not like a... Fucking...

We got in a doozy.

It's the best fight we had in a long time, like a month ago.

I told her I thought she should bleach her asshole.

She agreed and threw a cup of Clorox in my face.

Yeah, fuck you, too. I...

That gets a round of applause every night. I don't appreciate.

It's the cleverness of the joke. I know why you're applauding, I know.

Asshole bleach, I didn't know anything about it.

I Googled it, now I see why she got pissed.

I thought you girls just bleaching, like, the hairs of your ass crack.

You're actually bleaching the anus, the skin itself.

My wife goes, "Yeah, because it's discolored."

Well, yeah, you've been shitting out of it for 42 years.

Did you ever see a coffee filter after 50 pots?

Bleaching your asshole is actually racist, you know?

"Oh, I have black skin on me, gross. Let me get rid of that.

Oh, it's black and brown. Holy shit!

That is gross."

I hope guys don't start doing this.

Last thing I need is my wife to kick the bathroom door,

and I'm squatting over her makeup mirror with a bottle of Wite-Out.

"Honey, what are you doing?" "I'm fixing the letter O. What's it look like? Shut the door.

Where are the Crest Whitening Strips? Give me a Tide stick.

Can I shout this out? Help me here! Don't just stand there for Christ's sake!"

How embarrassing.

Anything? Nothing?

She's laughing. She's a reserved, nice proper lady,

and I'm doing horseshit up here. I don't blame her, but...

So I Googled the history of asshole bleaching.

Didn't know this stuff. Fascinates me. Started with female porn stars, makes sense.

They're doing anal on-screen. Maybe my wife's got a hobby I don't know about, but...

They're doing anal on-screen, and then mainstream Hollywood actresses started bleaching their assholes.

They said it was because there was more nudity in their films now.

Is that... What a fucking crock of shit that?

Anybody remember seeing Meryl Streep's asshole in The Iron Lady?

"Fuck you, Nixon. Look at that!"

Gwyneth Paltrow, Dumb and Dumber To.

And the second reason girl's started bleaching their anuses is

they were embarrassed that their anus skin tone didn't match the rest of their skin tone.

What? I understand if your bag doesn't match your shoes.

I don't even understand that to be honest with you, but...

But you're bleaching your asshole for your husband who's about to fuck you,

and he's wearing two different colored socks. I mean...

Who gives a shit?

"I wanna get this right for Bill. Yeah"

Don't...

Bleaching up the asshole. Some of you just laugh,

some of you are a little uncomfortable, I can see it in your eyes.

Like, "Let's change the subject, huh."

I wanna talk about vaginal rejuvenation for a few minutes.

It's closely related to asshole bleaching, geographically.

It's right next door. It's like Saint Paul and Minneapolis.

Come on, I just came up with that. That was a gem.

-Thank you.

I'm on a groove tonight. This is going on TV, I don't give a shit.

Vaginal rejuvenation, that was right after the asshole bleaching article.

I, I couldn't pull myself from the computer. It was fascinating.

I had never heard of vaginal rejuvenation, and it's just...

I mean, ladies, you gotta be excited about this.

I Google it, the definition... It's a botox-like procedure for the vagina.

That's how bad I'm in bed. My wife's vagina is developing laugh lines, apparently.

It's a face-lift for the vagina.

They say it's like going to a plastic surgeon. What if it is like going to a plastic surgeon.

Does he come out with a book of his work, before and after photos, like, Madonna's pussy?

"Looks like somebody put an M-80 in a frog's mouth."

"That's the before?"

You're like, "I thought that was a blooming onion!" "No, that's Madge's vag." "Are you serious?

Looks like an ultimate fighter's earlobes. Holy Christ!"

"Oh, a lot of black cock, that's what it'll do to you. Look at that. It's a mess."

It's cosmetic. They have a thousand cosmetic things they do for the vagina.

Girls have labiaplasty, girls think their lips are too big.

How many vaginas you think us fellows have seen?

Some guy's gonna pull down your panties, and go, "That thing is huge. I'm out of here.

Jesus, put an icepack on that, what...

You grow up next to a radiation plant? Jesus Christ!"

"Looks like a shiitake, goddamn it!"

Don't reduce your lips. I don't give a shit if it looks like Garry Shandling whistling at me,

leave 'em alone. Your vaginas are perfect, seriously.

Don't buy this shit.

You're having your lips reduced? Where do you do that?

You go down to the deli, they have a seat for you to sit in.

"Can I get a pound of prosciutto while I'm up in the chair?" "Sure."

I love the vagina just the way it is.

My college girlfriend had a lopsided vagina. Her mouth... Her...

Lips looked like Bill Murray's mouth in Caddyshack.

"He's at the 14th hole, and he's got about a five iron.

A pond or a pool would be good."

Apparently, the vagina over the years gets sad and droopy-looking.

And it makes sense. You shouldn't be...

I mean, it takes a pounding, when you think about it.

Between sex and babies.

When you're having sex, if you're doing it right it's kind of rough.

That's why when you talk about sex, you go, "I banged this chick the other night."

You don't go, "I gently pushed this chick the other night."

So it makes sense. The vagina starts to look like Sylvester Stallone after 20 years.

"Cut me, Mick. Cut me, cut me."

"I don't wanna cut you, Rocky, That's your pussy.

Yeah, that ain't lightning, you're gonna crap thunder out of that thing. Leave it alone."

That's a good Mickey, ain't it? I'll do it for you. "Yeah, pussy, I love it. It's perfect!

Looks like the vegetation on my ear."

Leave the vaginas alone.

All kinds of shit. They can replace your hymen. Did you know that?

Yeah, they can replace your hymen. Guys, you know what a hymen is?

It's not the Jewish guy from The Godfather.

Fellas, the hymen is a thing that breaks when you fuck a virgin.

I'm not talking about the law, okay? It's...

But it's a trick. They don't replace your hymen.

You know what they do? It's a cheap trick.

They put a blood capsule in one of your membranes inside your vagina.

That's the same thing WWE wrestlers use, for Christ's sake!

Am I deflowering a chick or punching Triple H in the face? What the fuck!

The whole thing is deceiving, man. It's kind of evil.

Here's the rejuvenation part, they can tighten the vagina later on.

You should be excited about that, ladies. Come on.

You could be the biggest whore for the first 30 years of your life, fuck the NBA West, East and South,

and still have the pussy of a girl scout when you're 76.

They tighten the vagina. And you're deceiving men when you're doing that.

It's like rolling back the odometer on a used car.

You're dating a girl for a couple of months, she's like, "I've only been with four guys my whole life."

"Oh, really? Let me see the snatch facts."

"Let's see who those four guys are, huh.

Terrell Suggs, Kevin Garnett, Shaquille O'Neal.

And Huey Lewis. What?"

Apparently, he's got a huge cock for a white guy, I had to...

That's what he told me when I was leaving his hotel at three in the morning, but listen...

I went back the next night.

It's not fair, tightening the vagina later on.

One night you were the girl who was like a clown car. You can fit 60 guys in there.

Next night it's like trying on O.J.'s glove.

"What did you do, leave this thing out in the rain?

What happened? It shrunk like three sizes.

I can't even get in there."

You gotta respect the vagina, you really do.

I mean, the Michael Douglas story this summer, anybody?

Fellows, did that one... Yeah, is that in your memory for the rest of your life?

Relax, I don't need a... It's a rhetorical question. Relax. Sip again.

"Terrible! It's terrible!"

It was, it scared the shit out of me.

The some of you who forgot, you know, he said he got throat cancer

before he performed oral sex on a woman with HPV, which is...

That's nice, huh, you get throat cancer from performing cunnilingus, fellas?

Nice to know you go down on your woman for 10 minutes,

it's the equivalent of handling asbestos for 35 years.

I just kissed my wife down there, I got mesothelioma.

My wife's like, "How come you don't do that to me anymore?"

I'm like, "'Cause I don't wanna sound like Jack Klugman for the rest of my goddamn life.

I mean, I loved that story when it came out, 'cause I'm a smoker.

I stand on the sidewalk in New York, people always come up, "That shit'll give you throat cancer."

And now I have a comeback. I'm like, "Yeah, so will cunnilingus, I'll quit when you do.", you know.

Although, if I had to choose between cigarettes and a vagina, I'm taking the vagina.

I'm taking the camel toes over the Camel Lights. You know what I'm saying?

I used to smoke cigarettes after I ate pussy.

I'm a dead man walking, apparently.

"It's Menthol? Good. I got to freshen up."

Let's be honest.

Cigarettes and pussy have a lot in common when you think about it, right?

And they both give you bad breath.

They both give you throat cancer, and if you don't dispose of them properly,

they'll burn down your house.

That's a lot of power to give a woman.

You can give, you can give a guy cancer, that you don't like.

He's like, slowly going, "Yeah, go ahead down there, Timmy,

enjoy yourself for the next 20 minutes, yeah.

Chomp away."

You're killing a guy.

I mean, we give you a little, you know, virus, you piss, it burns a little bit.

You take our voice box? What the fuck is going on?

Throat cancer from oral sex with a woman?

I can't wait to see those PSA commercials during the Yankee games in a couple of years.

"Hello, I'm Derek Jr."

"You know kids, I never touched a bottle. But I ate a lot of pussy, I'll tell you that.

I was the show stopper for the Yankees, for Christ's sake!

And good looking was coming at me like apple pie and ice cream.

And I ate every bit of it and I'd do it again.

Now I sound like my idol, Babe Ruth."

They're gonna be bringing all the famous guys for those commercial.

"Hello, I'm Mick Jagger.

I wonder why the milk tastes like brown sugar."

"Hello, I'm Ellen DeGeneres."

"I ate more pussy than those guys combined."

Thank you, Minneapolis.

You know, guys, you can just call your old girlfriends,

"Hey, Janice? Yeah, it's Rick.

When's the last time you had a fucking checkup?"

You're so polite, seriously. I mean, I haven't seen a cell phone tonight. God bless you for that.

Every comedy club now is a nightmare with these generation Facebook douchebags.

I fucking hate those goddamn fucking things.

I hope they cause cancer, those phones.

I think they do. I think the phones do, the iPads, your computers,

that's all fucking giving you cancer, you know.

And my friends go, "That's bullshit."

"Really? How'd Steve Jobs die? Was it dandruff?" You know what I'm talking...

Yeah. Who spent more time around that shit than he did?

Guy couldn't even hold up his last invention. It was a pound iPad.

"Can somebody help me out. I got a pound and a half... Come on!

Get it up there. Ah."

Apple a day, my ass, fucking.

People get bummed when I make fun of Steve Jobs.

Oh, yeah, get bummed out. He's the reason your niece is texting a pedophile right now, fucking.

They're both watching Felicitytogether. Whatever, fucking.

I'm not a big technology guy. Look, I'm in the middle. You know, you guys.

I'm like 51, you kind of get caught on the ass end, you gotta keep up with it or you look like a jerk off.

But it has perfected one thing, pornography, let's be honest.

Oh, my... It's never been better. Oh, my God.

And you guys in your 20s, you're so spoiled. You don't even know what bad porn is.

You have no fucking idea.

You have high definition porn, interactive, clit.org/nipples@...

I'm 51 years old. You know what's the first thing I masturbated to?

And this is honest to god truth. The Indian on the Land O'Lakes butter box.

That's true! Not even a real Indian, not even Cher.

A fucking cardboard Indian, that's how old I am.

And there was a trick you could do. Some of you guys know this.

She's kneeling down on her bare legs. If you fold her knees up, they become her tits.

My dad showed me that on my eighth birthday, he's a terrific guy.

That's true, I was in love with that little Indian bitch. Loved her.

Looking back on it, I was pretty talented, masturbating with my left hand, doing origami with my right.

Land O'Lakes was a self-contained masturbation kit.

You had the Indian for the visual, the butter for the lube.

The wrapper for the clean up. I mean, Jesus!

I was, I had a crush on that little fucking...

Then I come home one day and my mother switches to margarine.

Thanks to my dad's high cholesterol I had blue balls for 14 months.

Only way I could see that little Indian girl was to go to the supermarket.

That was kind of awkward.

"Clean up in aisle 7, the Italian kid is here again in the tight shorts.

He's getting his stuff all over the Triscuit. Somebody get a mop for Christ's sake."

Fucking loved her. And then my mother goes to Blue Bonnet.

You ever try to get a nut-off to a girl wearing a hat? It's fucking impossible.

It's like I'm fucking an Amish baby. This is a turn-off.

Then she went to Country Crock.

What am I gonna do with a rooster on a barn? Fucking...

There's gotta be a sheep in the barn somewhere, but I don't have that much time. Jesus Christ.

Yeah, I'm giving you the evolution of my porn.

Started with the Land O'Lakes butter box.

And then we graduated to the cover of National Geographic, right fellas...

That was our first Playboycenterfold. Big black, beautiful tits.

Complete nipples and everything. First time you saw the whole tit,

it was just tremendous.

You could get a nut-off to National Geographic, then read about irrigation for three hours. Fucking...

Talk about a deep sleep. Holy shit, it's like 50 Ambien.

That's what made me like black chicks. Just fucking still turned on by that shit.

But that was our Playboycenterfold. It wasn't as nice as the Playboycenterfold

with girls in there, you know, on a bed, spread eagle

as opposed to my girl being chased by an eagle through the woods and...

They're always carrying wood back to the village and trying to distract you in the end but...

I thought they should've treated those girls like Playboycenterfolds.

They should've done a little profile on them. Turn-ons and turn-offs.

Turn-ons, slow gazelles,

indoor plumbing, lip plates.

Turn-offs, arrogant chiefs, malaria, dysentery.

So yeah, so then it was VHS porn, in which the girls are just horrendous.

I mean, just... You guys, the girls are like 17, they're in shape, they're cheerleaders.

Back in the 70s, there were just, like, housewives,

they decided to blow their husband when they're eating a cheeseburger.

"Come on, Frank, let's get that over here."

She's flabby and gross and...

None of them shaved down there. No trimming.

Just giant muffs.

I'm like, "Is this porn or an ABA All-Star Game? What am I watching?"

Is that a pussy or did Dr. J just dunk on somebody? I can't tell what...

Just disgusting.

But the Internet perfected all that. It's so good now.

My favorite part of the Internet is going to the political articles.

The controversial ones, the racial ones, and... Then going to the comments section afterwards.

There is a civil conversation for a nanosecond, huh.

They'll start off nice. "Well, Obama's a big spending liberal, he's in over his head.

Never had a job in the private sector." Somebody'll respond, "That's not true."

"George W. Bush left him a messy economy and two wars."

Then somebody'll come back with, "Yeah, well your sis is a silver back ape

who takes it in the ass every Friday night, you fucking cum-guzzling asshole."

"Oh, good to see Dad's using the iPad we got him for Christmas."

Wish they'd talk like that on Meet the Press.

"George here." "Stephanopoulos, you little Greek, fucking midget.

I'll prick your eyes out and shit down your neck." Fucking.

Then the iPhones. I don't wanna be... Sound like a crotchety guy.

I can't keep up with the iPhone. Fucking, can we slow down with the technology?

By the time I get mine out of the box,

it looks like a payphone on The Andy Griffith Show, fucking.

Fucking, my friends love these phones. "It can do anything." "What do you mean?"

"I got movies." "Oh, so I can watch Bravehearton a two inch screen, instead of a 500-foot screen?

Wow, does it do anything else I fucking hate? That's terrific!"

"There's progress. You're shrinking the movie, dickhead."

"That's not the point, Nick. The point is you can watch movies anywhere."

"Well, where are you watching movies?" "At work." "Oh, you're watching movies at work?"

You wonder why Chinese economy is growing 50 times faster than ours.

In China, they tie a guy to his work bench.

If he doesn't make 50 Tupperware lids by 5 o'clock, he gets a bullet in his forehead.

Meanwhile, over here, 400 Americans about to die on an Amtrak train

'cause the conductor's watching a Silver Spoons marathon on Hulu.

Minneapolis, I love you people, I swear to God.

Thank you so much!

I appreciate it. Seriously!

Hopefully, this will be on TV, who knows. Thank you!