All language subtitles for jef

Fluffy! Fluffy! Fluffy! Fluffy!

Give it up and make some noise

for Mr. Gabriel Iglesias!

Chicago!

About time we do a special here.

Before I say anything else, you guys,
a big hand for my friend,

the man, the myth, the legend.

Give it up for Martin!

The two guys you see standing next to him
are two of my oldest friends.

Not only are they friends,
they work for me.

That’s Ivan and Tony.
Give Ivan and Tony a lot of love.

In addition to that--
This is so special right here.

Ladies and gentlemen,
handing me the microphone tonight

is the NFL’s Coach of the Year...

and a former member
of the baddest football team that ever...

stepped on a field,

the 1985 Chicago Bears.

Coach Ron Rivera!

Thank you.

Thank you.

I gotta do it one time.

Da Bears.

Whoo!

I am super excited, you guys.
Let me tell you.

This is our 19th year
coming to Chicago, okay? Nineteen years.

The first time I came here,
I got a chance to meet some people,

and they says, “Gabriel,
have you ever been to Chicago?”

“No, it’s my first time.”

“We’d like to take you out to eat
if you’re down.”

And I’m like, “Well, hello.

I am very down.”

They took me to a restaurant
called Portillo’s.

You heard of it?

So we get there, and it was very good.

The hot dogs were delicious.

I had a chicken chopped salad.
It was amazing.

Had a beef dip. Really good.

But it wasn’t until the meal
was almost over

that these new friends of mine said,

“We’d like you to try something
you might not have ever had before.”

I’m like, “That’s not likely.”

I said, “What is it you want me to try?”

“They sell a thing at Portillo’s
called a chocolate cake shake.”

I said, “You had me at ‘chocolate.’”

They said, “You gotta go up to the window
and order it from the lady.”

So I get up and walk over to the lady.
She’s like, “Can I help you?”

I say, “My friends are telling me

that I need to try this thing
called a chocolate cake shake.”

“Okay. What size would you like?”

“How good is it?” “You want a large.”

“All right. Can I please have
a large chocolate cake shake?”

“No problem.”
I pay, and she turns around.

She turns around and walks over
to this refrigerator on the counter.

She opens it up, and she pulls out
a piece of chocolate cake.

I’m thinking to myself,
“She must’ve misunderstood what I said.

I didn’t ask for
a piece of chocolate cake.

I asked for a chocolate cake shake.”

She must've heard what I was thinking,
’cause she’s walking by, like,

“It’s gonna happen.”

She walks over to the blender,
she takes the freaking lid off,

and she just looks at me and does this.

And I was like, “No!”

And she’s like, “Oh, yeah.”

She pours it and she hands me
this 44-ounce chocolate shake...

which is way more
than anybody should be drinking.

The straw was so thick,
you could almost fit your thumb in it.

So I grab the shake,
and I begin to attempt to drink it.

So I’m-- Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

And I can see the shake coming up.
Mmm. Mmm.

And it hit, and then all of a sudden--

Whoo!

Hell, you guys even have taco trucks.

Now for anyone wondering
about taco trucks,

let me just let you know right now.

That is real good Mexican food.
I don’t want you being concerned, like,

“No, there’s wheels
under that restaurant.”

Well, sometimes
we don’t have a permit, okay?

But it doesn’t mean the food is not good.

For me to know I’m gonna have
a good experience at a taco truck,

I always research.

I look to see who’s running the truck.

For me to know I’m gonna have a good time,

I wanna make sure
that it’s an all-female crew.

Not to sound sexist. It’s just that
when it’s all women running the truck,

they make me feel good about myself.

They make me feel special.

When I walk up at one o’clock
in the morning, and I have a buzz,

they make me feel good.

“Hello?”

They come to the window.

“Hola, mi gordito. ¿Cómo estás?

¿Cómo está ese gordito chulito?

Ese gordito. Qué bonito.

A ver. A ver. Ojitos. Ojitos.”

I feel like a kid.
I’m like, “Can I have a taco?”

“Whatever you want, mi hijito.
A taquito for you.”

Now, when it’s an all Mexican male crew
running the truck--

It’s late. They’re tired. They’re bitter.

Customer service isn’t our strongest point
at one o’clock in the morning.

Then you gotta deal
with a drunk knucklehead like me.

“Hello?”
They come to the window.

“¿Qué chingados quieres, pinche gordo?
What you want? What you want?”

“Hey, what’s up, bro? Can I have a taco?”

“Okay. What else?”

“That’s it.”

“Aah!”

That’s not even a word!

But you know
exactly what he just told you.

For some reason, Mexican people,
and only Mexican people,

have this sound that comes out of us

that can just discredit
anything you put in front of it.

It doesn’t matter what it is.
We can kill it with that sound.

“I just graduated from college,
top of my class.”

“Aah!”

“Fine, I’ll work at Burger King.”

“Papi, this is my fiancé. He loves me.”

“Aah!”

“Fine, I’ll be a whore.”

And speaking of whores,
let me tell you where they put us up at.

That’s a bad segue.

No. There’s no whores at this hotel.
Listen.

I would like to personally thank
the promoters

for not only making this special happen,
but for taking really good care of us.

They put us at a hotel
right across the street.

And you know,
you know when you’re in a good hotel

when you get inside of the elevator,
and it talks.

It’s one of those.

“First floor.”

“Second floor.”

“Third floor.”

I’m like, “Man, she sounds hot.”

“Fourth floor. Mmmm.”

“Fifth floor. Oh, yeah.”

Martin asked me, “How far you going up?”
I said, “All the way.”

I gotta see how this ends.
You know what I’m saying?

Oh, man.

And by the way,
since the last time we were here,

I’ve had a few things change in my life.

Some things happened that were so crazy

that I couldn’t even believe
it was a possibility.

First thing that happened was,
I had my first ever celebrity death hoax.

Meaning that someone faked my death
on the Internet, and it went viral.

Someone wrote an amazing article

that was read by over 30 million people

that was so good, even I was like,
“Oh, my God. I was so nice.”

TMZ reported it for 30 minutes,

until they called my publicist
and confirmed that I was still alive.

The article said
that I had died October 31

from complications of Type II diabetes.

And I’m thinking to myself,

“That’s a hell of a day
to kill a diabetic.”

You know what I mean? That’s like
killing Santa on Christmas Eve.

Thirty million people read this article.

No one thought to call me.

Except Martin.

That’s right.

Martin was the only one that called me.

And I think that was just to verify
that he still had employment.

I got that phone call.

“Hello?” Martin was like, “Hey.

You dead?”

“No, man. I’m good.”

“I figured. You would’ve texted me.”

And I would have,
’cause that’s the kind of friend I am.

I even asked my son, Frankie.
I said, “Frankie, did you hear I died?”

“That’s what they meant.”

“What do you mean,
‘That’s what they meant’?”

“My friends were asking if you were okay.”
“What’d you tell them?”

“I hadn’t seen you.”

“So apparently I died.”

“Welcome back.”

And that’s another thing that’s changed.

My son, Frankie, is now 18 years old.

And one week away from graduation.

Yeah.

You guys are clapping,
but he’s not leaving.

I asked him. “Frankie,
what do you want to do with your life?”

“Mm-mmm.”

“Have you thought about college?”
“Just now.”

I’m like, “Frankie, you do realize
that all you need to do is get accepted.

I tell a lot of jokes. I will pay
for your entire college education,

no matter where you want to go.”

“As long as you get accepted.
What do you think about that?”

“Mm-mmm.”

I say, “You want to go to school
in California, we’ll make it happen.

You want to go out of state,
we’ll make it happen.

Hell, I’ll even do
one of those international programs.”

The ones where you give them
one of your children

and they give you one of their children.

- What is it called when you kid-swap?
- Exchange.

Thank you. Sorry.
That’s right. “Exchange.”

Some of you were like,
“That’s called human trafficking.”

Different program.

I would love to do an exchange program
with my son.

But don’t give me a regular kid.

If I’m gonna do an exchange program,

give me a kid from a hard-core
third world country,

so he appreciates all the basic things
most American children take for granted.

That’s why I say give me little Tombutu.

Give me Tombutu. I would love Tombutu,
and Tombutu would love me.

“Mister Fluffy?” “Yes, Tombutu?”

“I was wondering,
what time do we go to sleep?”

“You go to sleep whenever you like.
This is your room.

We sleep next door.”

“All of this is for Tombutu?”

“Yes, all of this is for Tombutu.”

“In my village, two families sleep
in an area this big.”

“Well, here in America,
one big-ass Mexican kid sleeps right here.

Enjoy.”

Then I would take him to IHOP or Denny’s
and let him order whatever he wants

and just watch him lose it.

“This is the Thanksgiving I heard of!
Thank you, Mr. Fluffy! Thank you!

If there is anything Tombutu can do
for you, please tell me. Anything.”

“Can you help me take out the trash?”

“For you, I will eat the trash.”

Meanwhile, my son’s on the other side
of the world,

on top of an elephant,
trying to get Wi-Fi.

I love my son very much, you guys.

It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t get
the position he’s in.

He doesn’t realize it.

Which is why I love it
whenever he brings his friends over.

He brings his friends over the house,

and they’re constantly saying
what I’m saying.

And as a parent,
anytime you tell your kids something,

that’s one thing.

When you can get their friends to say
what you say, you can’t pay for that.

And they’re always doing it.
“Frankie, you’re lucky, man.

Your dad’s trying to help you
go to college.

My dad wants me to get a job.

Frankie, you’re lucky, man.
Your dad’s trying to give you a car.

My dad doesn’t even trust me to walk.

You’re lucky, man.”

And I hear this, and I’m like,
“I love these kids.”

Because my son is very numb
to this situation.

He’s very numb to all of you,
and he’s very numb to “Fluffy.”

Okay, he doesn’t see Fluffy.
He sees “Dad! Dad!”

I’m Dad. I’m the guy that tells him
clean your room,

take a shower and put on deodorant,

which he does very well now!

But you guys saw what I had to do
to make that happen.

His friends, on the other hand,
they still get excited when they see me.

They still geek out.

I walk into the living room.
They’re all sitting there.

Frankie sees me. “Hey, Dad.”

His friends see me, they see this.

With, like, doves.

Can you imagine if every time
you walked into a room, that happened?

“He’s here.”

Ladies, imagine if your partner
could do that for you. Huh?

It’s your anniversary, a celebration,
some magical moment,

or you’re just laying there
and you’re drunk.

And you’re just like, “What are you gonna
do to me? What are you gonna do?”

One extra dove.

And by the way, guys,
if you’re ever able to pull off the doves,

just leave it at that.

Don’t try to top the doves.
It’s very hard to top the doves.

Don’t start running your mouth
and talking smack.

She’s laying there. Don’t start:

“You don’t know what’s gonna happen
to you. You’re gonna get it.”

Don’t do that. ’Cause ladies,
all you have to do is look at him and go,

“Aah!”

Anyways, back to my son’s friends.

So my son has two friends
that come to the house all the time.

One friend, his name is Ken.
Works a lot with computers.

The other friend, his name is Fabian.
He wants to be a police officer.

Both of these kids are really good.

Now I keep calling everyone kids,
even though they’re all 18.

But to me, they’re kids. I’m almost 40.
I’m like, “Uh,” you know?

Some of the conversations we have
are very adult-like.

And the other conversations, I’m like,
“What am I doing with my life?”

For example, at home--
At home, when I’m hanging out,

I usually just wear very similar to now,
except the Hawaiian shirt.

I usually wear a T-shirt
that has Star Wars or Marvel Comics

or Transformers on it.

Cartoons. I like wearing stuff like that
around the house.

One day, I’m wearing a T-shirt
that has The Avengers on the front.

Yeah. And I walk into the living room,

and my son’s friend Fabian
sees me wearing the shirt.

So he starts pointing.
I’m like, “What’s up, dude?”

He goes-- “Weak.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Weak.”

And then he says, “DC’s better.”

“What did you say?”

“DC’s better.”

I’m like, “DC’s okay. Obama lives there.
They pass laws.

They got hotels, historic museums.

It’s not a real state. I don’t know
why you’re getting cray-cray.”

He goes, “No, fool! DC Comics!”

I’m like, “Hey, man.
I’m almost 40. I don’t care.

It’s just a really cool shirt. I like it.
It fits... No big deal.”

“That’s ’cause they are.”
“You need to relax.”

“They’re the best.”

“You need to chill.”

And in my head, I’m like,
why am I having this conversation?

I have better things to do,

like trying to get my son on an elephant,
but no.

The kid in me is, “Why are they best?”
He points at the shirt again.

“Iron Man sucks. Batman’s number one.”

I go, “Why?” “’Cause he is.”
I go, “That’s not an argument.

First of all,
Batman’s not the best superhero.

I hate to break it to you. He’s not.”

I can hear people getting ready to boo.

“Oh, no, Fluffy. Don’t go there.
Don’t go there, Fluffy. Don’t do it.”

Yes, I’m gonna do this. Watch this.

Batman’s not the best superhero.
Batman is the creepiest superhero.

Batman is the creepiest superhero
that has ever lived.

He even sounds creepy.

“I’m Batman.”

“I’m Batman.”

You don’t recognize that voice?

“Want some candy?”

“Help me find my puppy.”

Hello? He only comes out
at night. His face is always covered up.

He’s always waiting in alleys.
And who does he talk to?

A guy named Joker, a guy named Riddler.
His name is Batman.

Joker, Riddler, Batman.
Joker, Riddler, Batman.

Those are Mexican gang member names.

Can you imagine if that was
Batman’s real identity?

At night.
“I’m Batman.”

During the day.

“No, chingue su madre, soy Batman, loco--

Todo el pinche día aquí trabajando
y luego le parta la madre Joker--”

“I’m Batman.”

I said, “All right, Fabian,
Mr. ‘Batman’s The Best.’

Based on my T-shirt--
My T-shirt says Marvel Comics.

I see Thor, I see Captain America,
I see Iron Man.

Who are some of the superheroes
that DC Comics has

that makes them better than Marvel? Go.”

“Batman.” “You said that.”
“Superman.” “That’s a good one.”

“Wonder Woman.” “Okay.”

“Green Lantern.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.”

I said, “I know the other superheroes,
but Green Lantern?

What’s his power?”

“He wears a ring,
and the ring gives him power.”

I said, “That’s a fantasy.

I don’t know any man who wears a ring
who has power.”

And if you’re not clapping right now,
my point exactly.

You can’t clap, can you? You can’t.

You know why you can’t clap?

’Cause you’re sitting next to Kryptonite.

He’s not even clapping.
He’s like, “No, no, no, no.

No. Me pega Wonder Woman. No, no.”

Listen, I’m not gonna lie.

Sometimes-- Sometimes I feel just a pinch,

a pinch like a superhero,

in the sense that I’m able to walk out
in front of large groups of people,

change people’s moods, make people smile,

make people laugh,
make people feel a little bit better.

Right?

By that same token, like any superhero,
I have my weaknesses too.

I come out here and I make you happy.

And then I go home.

And I piss off one person.

’Cause she don’t want to hear about this.
She doesn’t want to hear about you guys.

I can’t go home and brag.
“Baby, it was crazy in Chicago.”

“That’s nice. Take out the trash.”

“But they were clapping
and chanting my name.”

“Oh, is that gonna help? Okay.

Take out the trash!
Take out the trash!

Take out the trash! Take out the trash!”

“But they told me they loved me!”

“Aah!”

Fluffy! Fluffy! Fluffy!

Oh, my God.

Do you guys have any idea
how hard it’s gonna be

to go home and take out the trash now?

Thank you.

Oh, my God. This is awesome!

I hear some of you too.
You guys okay over there?

That’s a big compliment, by the way.

Anytime I hear people in the arena,
and they’re freaking--

That lets me know
I’m making you laugh so much,

your own body is rejecting
the activity that you’re participating in.

Your own lungs are telling you,

“This is not good for you.
You need to leave.”

But you’re stubborn. You’re like,
“No! The ticket was expensive!”

That’s usually from guys.

From women, it’s a little bit different.

Anytime I hear women laughing so much
that they begin to snort.

You’re already laughing. That tells me
I’m making you laugh so much,

I’m causing you to inhale and exhale
at the same time,

forcing you to make that--

And if I hear a woman snort
more than two times,

that tells me
I made you pee just a little.

I love that.
You were pointing out the whole time.

She’s like, “You asshole.”

Thanks for having my back.

Another thing
that I now consider a compliment

is that from time to time,

I have people who are experiencing
their first ever comedy event,

and they’re not accustomed to laughing
for long periods of time.

And they get so excited
and so involved with the show,

that they forget.

They forget to do a very basic thing.

Called breathing!

You’d be amazed how many times
I’ve seen this in the front row.

And they pass the hell out.

The messed-up part is
only I can see what’s happening.

And-- And they’re usually, like,
“Fluffy, do something.”

I’m, like-- “Do something!”

“He woke up! Thank you!”

I had a lady one time...

up in the balcony...

who laughed herself unconscious.

She went forward

and wound up hitting her head
on the rail that was in the aisle.

Now I couldn’t see this
because I’m onstage

and I had spotlights in my face.

It wasn’t until after the show was over,

when Martin came back out onstage
and he took the microphone.

Then he tells me in my ear, “Bro,
some lady just got hurt in the balcony.

The paramedics are here. They have her
in the lobby. Let’s check on her.”

I’m like, “Let’s go.”

So we go behind the curtain.
Security is waiting for us with the car.

So we jump in the car--

They raced us around
to the front of the building.

Now as soon as we get to the front,
we see an ambulance.

We start walking in.

And now-- Not to take anything away
from this serious moment,

because this really did happen.

It’s a little bit funny
in the sense that...

my show just finished, and people
are now starting to leave the building.

They just saw me onstage a minute ago.
Now they see me walking in the front door.

You gotta see it through my eyes.

“He’s big, but he’s fast. I don’t know
how he did that one. That’s pretty good.”

I come in, and immediately I cut right,

to where the lady and the paramedics
are sitting on the steps to the balcony.

The lobby is starting to fill up
with people.

I’m trying to get from point A
to point B without getting stopped.

So I started doing this,

and I know it's gonna look a little weird,
but it worked.

“Are you okay? Are you all right?”

People see me doing this,
and immediately they’re puzzled.

The way you looked at me now, like that.

And they did this.
“What the hell’s he doing?”

It made everybody take two steps back
and do like this.

It created a hole for me to get to them.

Then they see the paramedics,
and they realize what I was trying to do.

Everything was fine
till I got really close.

And then one of the paramedics
calls me out.

“What are you doing to the lady?”

I go, “Listen, sir. The woman
obviously sustained a head injury.

I’m giving her a chance to process
the fact that it’s really me.

And I’m slowly...

getting closer to her.

I realize now
that I’m in this incredible position

where I can no longer walk up
from behind someone at one of my shows

and go, ‘Hey!’”

“Why not?” “Cause then-- ‘Clear!’”

“Fluffy killed another one.”

So finally the lady looks up.

She must have been 55, 60,
little Asian woman.

She sees me, and she’s, like--

“You too funny.

You almost a-kill me!”

“I am so sorry. Are you okay?

Is there anything I could do
to make you feel better?”

“Yes.

Yes, feel better.

I would like two T-shirt.”

“I’m gonna get you two T-shirts.”

“And two DVD.”

I’m like, “You’re not that hurt.
Get your ass over here.”

So I stand her up, and immediately
one of the paramedics--

“Hey. She hit her head.
She shouldn’t be standing.”

I said, “I’m the artist
performing here tonight.

I accept full responsibility
over this woman. I got her. It’s cool.”

Plus, she’s tiny.

We’re only walking ten feet
to the merchandise table. No big deal.

I say, “Come on. I got you. Let’s go.”

As soon as we start walking,
she starts venting.

“Mr. Fluffy. You have no idea
kind of week I have.

My son, he marry this girl.

She no cook, no clean.

Move into my house.

Now I have to cook and clean for two.

Oh, some bullshit.”

And I’m like, “Oh, my God.
That’s gonna happen to me.”

“Mr. Fluffy, I must apologize to you

because I do not know who you are
until today.

I have a friend who give me ticket.

She say, ‘Susie, you stress so much.
You need to get out.

Husband win ticket in raffle.
Only have one ticket. You take it.’

So I look at the ticket.
Ticket say, ‘The Fluffy.’

I don’t know what comedy show is
because I never go comedy show.

I see ‘Fluffy, ’
I think is musical like Cats.

I say, ‘Okay. I go see Fluffy Cats.’

So I come here early
so I can get the popcorn and the soda.

So I sit and I wait for Fluffy Cats.

Next thing I know, your friend Martin,

he walk out onstage with the big hair,
big goatee.

I say, ‘Oh, ho, ho. This not Cats.
This not Cats.

This Lion King.

That’s a Mexican Mufasa.’

And he start crack jokes.
I start laugh, laugh. I laugh.

Then you come out onstage. I cannot take.

I can’t breathe. I black out.

And when I wake up, I have ice pack
on the head, blood in the eye,

and the two young white paramedics,
they both touch me right here.

They say, ‘Are you okay?
Are you okay? Are you okay?’”

“What did you tell them?”
“Ho-ho. ‘Never better.’

Susie never have two young white men
touch me right here, same time.

Oh, your show very special, Mr. Fluffy.
Very special.

You show like Make-A-Wish.

If I have a scar--”

“You’re gonna sue me.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no. No!

Not going to sue.

If I have a scar, and the friends ask me,

‘Hey. How you get scar?’...

now I have great story to tell.

I’m going to say--
‘Two white men, same time.’

While Mexican watch.”

I get her back to the paramedics.
The paramedics are like,

“She’s a handful, huh?”

I’m like, “Oh, yeah. She’s horny.
She likes you. Here you go.”

As soon as I turn around,

all I see is a lobby full of people
and a bunch of cell phones.

There’s footage of what
I just told you out there.

Everybody was recording what happened.
What I thought was cool

is everybody waited for me to finish
with the lady and the paramedics.

All of a sudden, when I turned around--

People started coming up.

Some people wanted to shake my hand,
some people wanted to high-five.

One guy just wanted to hug me,
and he didn’t say anything.

He just hugged me, just-- “Are you okay?”

“You sure?” “All right.”

Couple of kids are looking at me, like--

And for me, I thought that was so cute,
because I recognized that twinkle.

I’ve looked at someone like that before.

I’ve been starstruck many, many times.

As a matter of fact, this past year,
I got to meet one of my childhood heroes.

I got to meet Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Now some of you are clapping,
some of you are like, “Wait, wait, wait.”

Here’s the thing.
I didn’t love him as a politician,

and I was too young
to know him as a bodybuilder.

All I knew was
The Terminator was my favorite movie,

and he was the Terminator.

So, here’s the story.

I’m in LA, at this red carpet event
for some movie I still haven’t seen.

I’m standing there
with my publicist, okay?

I’m standing there with my publicist,

and she’s explaining to me
how the red carpet works.

“Listen, Gabriel.
This is what’s gonna happen.

You’re gonna go down the red carpet,

and then the paparazzi’s gonna start
taking photos of you,

and then someone’s gonna
ask you some questions.

It’s a lot of fun. Then we’ll go inside,
and we’ll go to the after-party.

It’s gonna be great.”

As she’s telling me this,
I’m looking around,

and I look over and I notice--

I see him. I see Arnold Schwarzenegger.

And I freak out.

“It’s Arnold Schwarzenegger!
It’s Arnold Schwarzenegger!”

“Relax. Relax. You’ve never met Arnie?”

I said, “No, I’ve never met Arnie.”

“I work with him all the time.
He’s really nice.

Would you like me to introduce you?”

I’m like, “Yes!”

She takes me by the hand,
and she walks me directly to Arnold.

I’m freaking out so bad.
I look like a big-ass toddler.

We get over
to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s area.

He’s Arnold Schwarzenegger.

He’s already got a big group of people
around him, waiting to take a photo.

So I’m just patiently waiting.

As I’m watching him, you guys--
I gotta tell you right now.

No one on this planet is better at
meeting people than Arnold Schwarzenegger.

He is the greatest people-meeter
I’ve ever witnessed.

The reason I say this is because
when you meet him, he’s very engaging.

He grabs your hand. He pulls you in.

He looks at you in the eyes
and he turns it on.

When you meet Arnold, you get
exactly what you think you’re gonna get.

It’s awesome to watch.

“How are you? So nice to meet you.

You so strong. You pump iron?
Ay! Look at you!

This is incredible,
got these lights and this red carpet.

’Scuse me. How are you?

Ay! You so strong! You pump iron?
This is incredible. Look at you.”

People are walking away from him,
looking at their hand.

They’re looking at their hand, you guys.

Ten minutes I’m watching
Arnold Schwarzenegger light people up.

Then I notice something else.

I notice that Arnold has a handler,
a guy who stands right behind him.

And it’s this guy’s job

to basically reset Arnold
for the next person he’s about to meet.

Arnold Schwarzenegger will never cut off
a conversation with a fan.

The guy behind him listens in
on the conversation,

and he determines when enough is enough,

and then he signals Arnold
to cut it off and move on.

Here’s the signal.

He grabs the back of Arnold’s arm,
right there, two times. One, two.

cut it off,
time to move on. Always to the left.

Awesome to watch.

“This is incredible with these lights
and these special effects going on here.

’Scuse me. How are you? Nice to meet you.

You so strong. Ay!”

I’m, like--

So I yell out to the handler, “Hey!”
And the handler turns around.

“Hit him! I wanna meet him! Hit him!”

And he starts laughing
because now he sees that I see

how the Terminator is really working.

So he gives me one of these.

Next thing you know,
he is lighting Arnold up.

He is hitting Arnold so fast,
Arnold can barely keep up.

“’Scuse me. Pardon me. How are you?

’Scuse me. Pardon me.
High five. High five.

’Scuse me. Hello. How are you?
Pound, pound, pound pound.”

He’s coming down the line, coming down
the line, and I’m just waiting.

I stick my hand out, and he grabbed it.

“How are you? So--

I recognize you.

I know who you are.

You’re that comedian who does the joke
about the Indian man trying to rob a bank,

but he cannot rob the bank
because they are making fun of him.”

And in my head, I’m, like--
“He knows me!”

Outside, I’m like, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You are hysterical.
Give me your contact information.

You are the funniest person-- ’Scuse me.

How are you? Nice to meet you.
You so strong.”

“Hey!”

Meeting Arnold
is like a really good roller coaster.

You want to go to the end
and meet him one more time.

It was so cool because I’m watching him--
And people started recording him.

For me, it’s one of those things

where I’m finding myself
in a very interesting situation right now,

because I like hanging out,
I like going out.

I’ve been drunk in Chicago
many, many times.

I like to have fun.

Here’s the problem.

I recently signed a contract
with ABC Television

in hopes of producing
my very own sitcom for TV.

It’s not a guarantee,
but I am guaranteed a pilot.

Here’s the problem.

ABC is owned... by Disney.

Disney is such a huge brand

that anytime someone threatens
the way you look at that brand,

they are dealt with
in a very un-Disney-like way.

This sitcom that I’m producing
is about me.

I play myself. I play Gabriel Iglesias.

It’s about me, my family, my friends.

My friend Martin...

is not allowed on the show.

Not per me. Take it up with the Mouse.

They look at your social media.
They look at your stuff online.

If there’s anything about you
that doesn’t fit that model,

they will freaking-- mmmm.

And I’m paranoid, because Disney’s so big.
They’re so huge.

They own television stations.
They own radio stations.

They own Marvel Comics.
They own Star Wars.

I don’t need that phone call, you know?

“Hello?”

“Mmm. Fucked up, you did.”

I’m so freaking paranoid, you guys.

Because nowadays,
people are always recording.

If you do something
that might look stupid,

it can end up turning out even worse.

For example, say I fall off the stage
tonight and someone’s recording that.

If TMZ gets ahold of that,
it can go viral.

And God forbid, something happens to me,
it can make the news.

“We’re standing here
in front of the Allstate Arena

in Rosemont, Illinois,

where authorities believe
Fluffy lost control.

The 39-year-old comedian was found dead
for the second time in two years.

No one knows exactly
what happened here tonight.

Authorities had this to say.”

“Aah!”

That’s why I’m saying I gotta be careful,

because I still enjoy my habits.

I still like drinking.

Of course, some people
pull me aside and say,

“Gabriel, why do you drink?
Why do you drink?

You have so many responsibilities
and people you take care of.

Why do you drink?”

“Because I have a lot of responsibilities
and people to take care of.”

Some of you already know because
you’ve been to my shows in the past.

My poison of choice is tequila.

Certain alcohol
I no longer mess with anymore.

Like, I no longer mess with Jäger.

See, first of all, any alcohol
that will make you say its name...

is not safe.

That’s the only alcohol
that will make you do that.

That’s the only one you hear people--

“Jäger!”

You don’t hear anyone else.
You don’t hear Mexicans--

“¡Tequila! ¡Güey!”

You don’t hear black people--
“Hennessy, playa.”

You don’t hear Japanese--
“Whoo! Sake! Sake!”

Jäger is scary for a few reasons.

One, I’m Type II diabetic.
I shouldn’t even be drinking.

But Jäger has twice as much sugar in it.

Second thing is the consistency.
It’s very sticky.

It’s like cough syrup.

So if you drink too much of it,
it holds on longer than anything else.

And it’s nasty. When you drink it,
you’re, like--

Pa la tos. Pa la tos.

It’s horrible.

If you drink too much of it,
it holds on longer than anything else.

You know? If you have one too many beers,
you know what happens.

You get the--
Then you return it to the rightful owner.

Jäger makes you feel like
you gotta bring it back, but you can’t.

All it does it make you dramatic
for 45 minutes until it lets go.

You’ve seen someone like that.
“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine, bro--”

They can’t throw up.
All they’re doing is six-minute abs.

People look at you the next day.
“Are you into fitness?” “No, I’m a drunk.”

Man, Jäger is scary.

Another alcohol
I refuse to mess with anymore...

is wine.

Look at the people--

“We’re from Schaumburg.”

Those of you that don’t know,

Schaumburg is the Beverly Hills
of the area, so--

I’m sure you figured that out.

Um-- My issue with wine is very simple.

I don’t like the fact
that wine is socially accepted.

What I mean by that is that if you see
someone with a bottle of wine,

if you see a guy crossing the street
with a bottle of wine,

immediately he’s judged,
but in a positive way,

because wine is always associated
with something high-class,

something positive, something progressive,

an anniversary, a celebration,
a promotion.

So you try to figure it out.
“What do you think is going on over there?

Graduation? Promotion? It’s gotta be good.

Hey, good for you, buddy.”

Women see a man with a bottle of wine,
holding a couple of glasses,

and immediately--

“Aw!

Lucky bitch.”

It’s still alcohol.

It will still mess you up.

The main reason why I don’t like wine

is because
you cannot accurately measure wine.

You can measure real liquor.
It’s called a shot.

And you know after drinking enough times

what you can handle
and what you can’t handle.

Because people who drink a lot

love to brag
about their drinking abilities.

They have their drinking number. Right?

They have their drinking number.

You’ll hear ’em, you know.

“Eleven shots of Don Julio. Whoo! Yeah!”

They have their drinking number,
even women.

“After four shots of Cuervo, I am so good.

Four shots is my sweet spot.”

“What happens if you do five?”
“I’ll wake up in an alley.”

“What happens if you do six?”
“That’s how I met Tyrone.”

See, with wine you cannot accurately
measure how much you’re drinking

unless you’re basing it on the bottle.

And if you’re basing it on the bottle,
then that’s a whole different issue.

With wine,
the glasses are always different sizes.

Sometimes they’re big glasses.
Sometimes they’re small glasses.

And a lot of times you need
to rely on someone to pour it for you.

Sometimes they know what they’re doing.
Sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes they fill it up too high,
which is not the proper amount.

Sometimes they get it just right, which is
a little bit less than half of the glass.

Sometimes you get that greedy bastard
from Olive Garden.

You get that little sample.

You have to hold it up
in direct sunlight and do this.

Then you drink it. “That’s pretty good.
I got a coupon. Here you go.”

And you never see wine drinkers
drinking with real drinkers in dive bars.

You might see ’em at a social gathering
like this one or some corporate function,

but never at a little hole in the wall.

You’ll never see-- “Jäger!”

“¡Tequila! ¡Güey!”

And in the middle--
“Merlot, I say.

Oh, this is a fantastic establishment.
I truly enjoy the decor here.

This is amazing.

This is brilliant, I tell you.
Who cuts your grass?

It’s fantastic.”

I’m sorry. That voice
always makes me laugh. I like it.

It makes me smile, you know,
when we’re here...

in America.

Whenever I travel
and I perform in England,

- that voice takes on a different meaning.
- Whoo!

I heard a “whoo.”
Do we have people from the UK?

All right. Let me tell
the rest of the people about you.

I love it whenever people from the UK
come here to the United States,

because when we hear you speak,

you sound incredible, you sound amazing,

you sound educated,

you sound inspirational.

That accent is so proper. It is so proper.

It doesn’t matter
what you’re talking about,

we’re drawn to whatever it is.

You could be talking about trash,
it sounds amazing.

“Who could leave all this rubbish here?
This is such a travesty.

This is-- All this destruction here
all over the sidewalk.

Someone must tend to this at once.
This is ridiculous.”

People are listening in.

“I don’t know what happened
over there, but the shit hit the fan.

That guy from England is pissed.
I don’t know.

What the hell is ‘rubbish’?”

See, it’s very different.
Now, when one of us goes over there,

man, it’s very, very different,

because, see,
we don’t sound the same as them.

As a matter of fact,

as Americans, we have a certain way
with the English language.

Do you understand how we sound to them?

I mean, seriously, do you know how they
look at us when they hear us speak?

We sound like this to them:

“I’ll tell you,
the other day I was hanging out with Phil.

That sumbitch come over to the house.
We had ourselves a good old time.

Just me and Phil.”

By the way, if you sound like that
here tonight, I’m kidding.

They’re just jokes.

Don’t feel like just, you know,

“I’m-a wait for his ass outside.

I’ll see how funny he is when he gets
to the parking lot. Fluffy, my ass.”

I just think it’s funny...

that, no matter what they talk about
over there,

they sound the same.

It sounds the same, you know.

Whereas with us, Americans,

we speak according to our environment.

We change it up. We morph. We adapt.

We all have our--

For example, we all have
our “trying to get a good job” voice.

When you walk in for that interview,
you don’t sound the way you sound

on a Saturday night
when you’re having a couple drinks.

You clean it up. You practice in the car.

And when you walk in, you turn it on.

“If you’ll check my references,

you’ll see I’m more than qualified
for this position.

Please feel free to call Frank Torres.

Frank will tell you the amazing job
I did for him two and a half weeks ago.

Listen, I’m ready to work
seven days a week, 365 days a year.

No job is too big. No task is too small.

You can count on me.
I’m the right person for the job.

Please keep me in mind.
Thank you for your time.”

And then you get to the parking lot--

Then you get to the parking lot,
and you’re like, “Whew!

Hijo de la chingada. Ojalá me dé trabajo
porque está cabrón, güey.

I need a job, man. I need a job.

Whew!”

You guys know
we all have our daytime voice

that we have
around our family and our friends

and our children, you know.

And then we have our late night voice,
you know, our party voice.

“Jäger!”

And then, if you’re lucky enough, you have
your late, late, late night voice.

“That’s right. You don’t know
what’s about to happen.

- You better get on-- Te voy a agarrar...
- Te gusta así, ¿verdad?”

Some of you are looking at me like,
“Oh, my God, Fluffy’s a freak.”

I’m just giving an example.

All the kids are like,
“Oh, this is different.”

Sorry. I see those kids,
and they’re just like--

Dad’s like, “Pinche Fluffy.
No, no, no, no, no.

Stupid.
Bad Fluffy. Bad Fluffy. Bad Fluffy.”

But, see, now over there,

they sound the same
no matter what they’re doing.

When they apply for a job.

“If you’ll check my references, you will
see I’m qualified for this position.”

When they party.

“If you’ll pour the wine, I will drink it.
It is brilliant, I tell you.”

When they’re making love.

“I’m going to part your legs
like the Red Sea.

I’m going to defile you
in such an amazing fashion,

you will rue the day
you came across me at that local pub.

I’m going to lower my drawbridge
and introduce you to the queen!

Yes, I shall.

When you arrive at that magical moment,
I want you to scream ‘victory.’”

“Victory!” “My job is done here.”

The only messed-up part about that joke

is that that’s the only joke
the kids remember.

Two weeks from now,
you’re trying to get in the room.

You’re like, “Why is this door locked?”
And then you hear, “Victory!”

I see a couple of young adults there.
How old are you guys?

- Thirteen.
- Thirteen.

Wow. And next to you?

- How old are you?
- Ten.

You’re ten.

Okay. I am so sorry for what Martin said.

Ten years old. I can’t feel too bad
because you know what?

Ten-year-olds are young adults.
You are a young adult.

I don’t see you as a kid.

A kid to me, first of all, is someone
who doesn’t have access to the Internet.

You have, I’m sure, a tablet, a cell phone
or access to online services, right?

Services.
“What the hell is he talking about?”

Bad choice of words.
You know what I mean, right?

You’ve probably seen and heard
a few things already.

And the parents are like,
“No, not my child. I lock their phone.”

Yeah, but you don’t lock
their friend’s phone.

I feel bad whenever I say something
that’s kind of, like, risqué

whenever parents bring a four-year-old,
five-year-old, six-year-old.

And, yes, it happens. Then I feel bad.

I’ll meet ’em after the show and I’m like,
“I am so sorry for what you heard me say.”

And it’s always funny
to see the parents say,

“Oh, they hear worse at home.”

Nothing like watching a four-year-old
confirm that. You know, just--

Like, for example, my son.

He’s 18 years old,
but he still doesn’t cuss at home. Okay?

Whatever he does in public,
I have no control over.

But at home he knows he cannot cuss.

One time.

One time in, like, 13 years
I caught my son cussing at home,

and I couldn’t even get mad.

He had fallen down the stairs.

I don’t mean to laugh,
but think about it.

What am I gonna do to him that’s worse
than what he just did to himself?

I heard it too.

“Son of a bitch!”

I ran over.
I didn’t even check his safety.

I was like, “What did you say?

Hey, you earned that one.”

I said, “If you want to say the F-word,
next time let me push you.”

That’s when I knew he fell hard.
“Really?” “No. Get up here. Come on.”

Cool. Welcome, you guys.
Hope you have a good--

I know you’re getting nervous, Dad.
You’re like, “What’s he telling my son?”

No, nothing. Being cool.

But thank you for trusting me
to bring your kids to the show. Yeah.

Or your young adults. Sorry.

Thank you for trusting me
to bring your young adults to the show.

By the way, I know I keep pointing
at people in the front right here.

If you’re here tonight...

with someone
you have no business being here with...

and you see a camera coming by,
just be like, “Hey.

Victory!”

They’re very respectful.
They’ll go to the next person.

Don’t even worry about that.

Before I forget, you guys,
I would like to thank the Allstate Arena

for providing some amazing
accommodations backstage.

Let me tell you right now,
I love my dressing room

for the simple fact that it has
basic things that I really like,

like light switches.

A lot of these arenas
are now starting to go green.

So they’re taking away the light switches
and they’re replacing ’em with sensors.

Sensors are cool when they work.

Know what I mean?
You’re ten feet away, it senses you,

and the whole room just--

What I don’t like is
when they’re messed up,

you have to walk into a dark-ass room
and establish your presence.

But then you stand still for four seconds.
“Shit!”

In addition,
backstage my sink has knobs on it.

I have control of the temperature
and pressure of the water,

which in the Chicago area,
I believe, is very important,

especially in the winter.

Oh, man,
you guys are no joke in the winter.

You need warm water
when you wash your hands.

You can’t rely on a sensor
that gives you nothing but cold water,

’cause you wash your hands with
cold water, your hands get all cryptic.

You go outside,
people are making fun of you.

“Lookit. ‘Thriller.’”

My dressing room, you guys,
has a sink that has hot and cold--

You can control the water.
You can control the temperature.

You can control the pressure.

I hate it when they take that away from us
and replace it with that little sensor.

So now, in addition to being a comedian,
now I gotta be a magician.

I’m not a magician, but if you watch me
wash my hands, that’s what I look like.

Nothing. Then you walk away.

I feel like there’s someone behind
the mirror messing with me. “Watch this.”

Some places stop there.
Some places keep going.

I like a lot of soap when I wash my hands.
I like a good soap dispenser.

I like the, you know, the pump, the--

I hate it when they take that away from us

and then they replace it with that
little spout that goes next to the faucet.

You stick your hand under it,

and it gives you
that little booger of soap.

You know what I mean? That little moco.
You put it under.

You--

You need more.
So you pull it out and then go back in.

But the sensor’s like,
“No. It’s still you.”

Now you gotta trick it, right?

Once you get enough soap on your hands,
you gotta try to wash it off.

But you can’t wash it off then

because the timer
for the water has timed out.

So now you have to back up and now
you have to put on a second performance.

Now it’s a race
to get that soap off your hands.

Once you get the soap off your hands,
now you gotta try to dry your hands.

Some places still give you a towel.
Some places give you paper towels.

Some take the paper towels and put ’em
in a box on the wall with another sensor.

And there you are.

Three inches of paper.

Three inches, Chicago.
You can’t do anything with three inches.

Ask any woman. They’ll tell you.

Or a guy. I’m equal opportunity.

I need control of the paper.
I need the crank, the--

Some places stop there.
Some places keep going.

Have you ever walked
into the bathroom stall...

close the door, locked it,
turned around, looked at the toilet

and seen a blinking red light on the wall?

And you’re like, “Really? Here too?”

All you’re trying to do is get the tissue
paper off the wall for the toilet seat.

You take one step--

I haven’t even done anything.

You grab the paper.

Hey!

You turn around
and you put it on like a cape.

And you let it slide down your back while
you slowly try to time it just right.

Just as you’re about to sit down,

somebody walks into the bathroom
and distracts you.

Huh?

But it’s too late. Your knees are bent.

And unless you do CrossFit,
you’re not coming back from that one.

Then your bare ass touches the seat...

and you’re like, “Aah!”

And just when you think
it can’t get any worse--

And all this water's splashing up,
hitting you right in the ass.

And then the water goes down the drain
and it creates that air vortex

that goes right between your legs.

So now you have a tsunami in the back,
you have a tornado in the front.

- And who’s the victim?
- Pikachu.

And he’s holding on for dear life.

You haven’t even made magic yet,

and you’ve already been violated
by plumbing.

Now you do what you need to do.

You finish.

Now it’s time for clean-up,

time for maintenance.

So you reach over for the toilet paper.

And the problem
with using the restroom nowadays

is that most venues, including this one,

instead of putting
a human-size toilet paper roll

inside of the human-size
toilet paper roll dispenser...

they take their ass
to Costco or Sam’s Club

or one of these places
where you buy in bulk,

and they buy
that giant gorilla roll of toilet paper.

Then they come back here and they force it
into that little tiny compartment...

and then they close the door on it.

So now this giant wheel
is locked in place.

You can’t even spin it. You’re just--

You can’t even find where it starts
because they glue it.

Out of desperation
you gotta pull out your car keys

and cut into the side of it

like a bag of cocaine on Narcos.

Then you get the paper.

You try to wipe.

Chicago, a year from now,

a year from now I am predicting

that they are going to take 100% control
of the restroom.

You’re gonna be sitting there,
and you’re gonna think of me

’cause you’re gonna see it.

You’re gonna look over
to get the toilet paper,

and there’s gonna be
a blinking red light on it.

And you’re gonna be like,
“Oh, my God, Fluffy called it.”

And what are you gonna have to do?

One sheet.

You’re gonna get frustrated
and just sit on it, just--

Sorry, bro. I know that was
a lot of culo I threw at you right there.

She’s like,
“It’s like Magic Mike.”

I am so sorry, bro.
That was a lot.

“Damn!” Yeah.

You guys, I understand.

I understand
why they do this to our restrooms,

why they put sensors in places,

because they’re trying to save energy,
they’re trying to save water.

I live in California.

We need water. Okay? We do.

But some places need sensors,
some places don’t.

Some places are good at teaching us
how to conserve energy and conserve water.

Some places are horrible at it,
like the hotel that we’re staying at.

They have a very basic thing that they do.

They have a little cardboard sign

that hangs on the towel rack
in the bathroom.

All it says is, “Please help save water
by reusing your towel.”

On the back, a diagram shows you
the millions of gallons of water

that are saved every year
when people reuse their towel.

I reuse ’em at home.
I got no problem doing that at the hotel.

It’s my towel.

Some people
don’t want to reuse their towels.

They’re like, “That towel’s dirty.”

Well, if that towel’s dirty,
then you suck at showers.

Because theoretically
that white towel should be white

every single time you use it.

But, no, people like to roll it up
and then go expert mode with it.

And now you waste more water
trying to get that out.

Like I said, some places
are good at teaching us

how to save energy, save water.

Some places are horrible at it.

I was at a university not too long ago
very close to here.

And this university has a lot of money,

so much so that they have their own
private police department on campus.

It’s only for the campus.
Now, that’s not a big deal.

There’s a lot of colleges
that have their own on-campus police.

The difference is
this college, somehow or another,

wound up giving the police department
Priuses to use for their patrol cars.

Some of you already know the university.

Now, look, this is not even a joke.

My thing is that,
if you’re an officer of the law...

it’s your job to fight crime.

The first thing that people see
when you arrive on a scene

is your mode of transportation.

Your vehicle needs to establish
dominance of the situation

before you set one foot outside.

In California,

over 65% of California Highway Patrol
officers now drive SUVs.

So when you get stopped over there,
you feel it.

You’re intimidated by it.

And people jump out on the freeway.
“Don’t kill me!”

Now, imagine getting stopped by--

Don’t let me get stopped
by a cop in a Prius...

with attitude.

“You know why I stopped you?”

’Cause I let you?

Imagine the first time
they did a DUI stop.

The cop probably didn’t even get out
of the car. He just stayed on the radio.

“Sir, step out of your vehicle right now.”
“Okay. Okay.”

“All right.

Is that a Prius?

I must be drunk.”

“Sir, walk the line.”
“Okay, all right, all right, all right.

Officer?

If I gotta go to jail, can you call
a real cop car to pick me up?”

“Stop being a smart-ass. Walk the line.”

“Okay. Hey, real quick, real quick,
real quick, real quick.

Hey, hey, hey, charge my phone.”

“That’s it. You’re going to jail.”

“Aah!”

I don’t know, man.

A lot of time-- Yes, sir? ¿Qué pasó?

I love you too, bro.
Give me cake, sugar-free.

Thank you. I gotta be careful.
I almost slipped right there.

He’s like, “I’ll catch you.”
Yeah, you’ll catch me, you’ll catch me

and you’ll catch me.

It’s like SeaWorld without the water.

I gotta start being careful, you guys,
because I’m noticing now,

after six specials,

that a lot of my material,
a lot of my stories

are starting to come back to haunt me.

Some of them in good ways,
some of them not so good.

For example, in 1997...

on TV one time, one time, I said,

“I love chocolate cake.”

One time.

Nineteen years later,

people are still bringing me
chocolate cakes.

That is crazy. I mean, think about that.

Nineteen years ago,
and I’m still getting cake.

I’ve only said it one time.

Next thing you know, I talked
about how much I love diet sodas.

Next thing you know,
people started bringing me diet sodas.

In the following special, Aloha Fluffy,

I started talking about
how my son’s growing a little bit older

and the hormones are kicking in
and he needed to use deodorant.

Next thing you know,
his friends started bringing deodorant

and people started bringing deodorant
to my shows for me to give to my son.

In that same special, Aloha Fluffy...

I told a story, a story that went viral,

called “The Racist Gift Basket Story.”

The story itself
is about 15 minutes long, okay?

I’m gonna give you
the three-minute version of that story

so you understand what’s going on.

Basically, Martin and I are doing a show
in Sacramento, California.

We’re driving from LA to Sacramento.

We’re passing through a small town
called Fresno.

As we’re passing through Fresno,

we reach out to the local promoter
who does the shows there.

We’re good friends with him.

And he tells us, you know,
’cause we’re trying to have lunch--

And he goes, “He’s busy.
But by the way, G Reilly’s in town.”

And we’re like, “Oh, shoot,
our friend G Reilly’s in town.”

“He’s at the hotel.”
“All right, he’s at the hotel.”

We knew exactly where he was at.

So I say,
“Martin, how about we go and visit G?”

Martin goes, “Let’s stop by.”

I figured first let’s pick up some sodas,
some drinks so we can surprise him.

We get to the market. We walk in the door,
we see a whole pile of gift baskets.

Martin goes,
“We should get him a gift basket.”

I said, “Martin,
G Reilly doesn’t like gift baskets, okay?

He doesn’t like the fancy wine
and the fancy cheese and the sausage.

He definitely hates crackers.”

You don’t even know why that’s so funny.

But anyways--

I said, “How about this, Martin?

He doesn’t know we’re coming.
Let’s have fun with him.

How about we make him
a racist gift basket?”

And Martin goes, “What’s that?”

I go, “You know, Martin,
a racist gift basket,

a gift basket designed to have fun

with whatever race
you’re trying to mess with.”

Now, in G’s case, he’s black.

It was easy.

Now, I say easy not to be an ass.

I say easy
because there are so many stereotypes

attached to African Americans.

So we had this empty gift basket.

What did we put in it?

Fried chicken, watermelon,
Kool-Aid, grape soda,

barbecued potato chips, sunflower seeds,

an Ebony magazine,

a Chris Rock DVD
called Bigger and Blacker,

Magnum condoms, Newport cigarettes,

a rack of ribs, the recipe for corn bread.

We put everything but a white girl
with a big ass in the basket.

We wrapped it up really nice,
we put a big bow on it

and took it to the hotel.

We had the girl at the front desk
deliver it to his room.

Martin and I are waiting in the hallway
where he can’t see us.

So she knocks on the door.

G Reilly opens the door.
She gives him the gift basket.

He says, “Thank you,” closes the door.

Martin and I run to the door,

and we start listening to him
opening up the gift basket.

As he’s opening it, he’s getting excited.

And he is enjoying every single thing
he is pulling out of that basket.

He is loving this basket
until he realizes it’s a practical joke,

and then he freaks out
because he read the greeting card.

The greeting card freaked him out

because now he thinks
that the KKK sent the gift basket.

Some of you are like,
“Why does he think that?”

’Cause that’s what we wrote.

If you’re gonna do a practical joke,
you go big or you go home.

So he freaks out
and he tries to run out of the hotel room.

As soon as he gets in the hallway,
he sees Martin and I laughing

and he puts two and two together.

So then he cusses us out.

He forgives us, gives us a hug,
high five, we go back in his room.

And then I eat his chicken.

What winds up happening is
that story goes crazy on Comedy Central.

People are giving ’em a hard time.
They pull it.

Next thing you know,
I upload it through YouTube.

Ten million views it gets on YouTube.

Then they flag it
because the word “racist” is in the title.

So it gets pulled off.
So then I reupload it.

It gets another ten million.
Then I had people share it.

All in all, the video’s probably gotten

about a little over
a hundred million views.

So here’s what happened.

Just like...

the chocolate cakes--

the diet soda...

and the deodorant...

before you know it,
people started bringing me...

Mexican racist gift baskets.

Now, when it first started happening--
Listen, guys, I’m not gonna lie.

It was actually kind of cute
because it was only other Mexicans

bringing me
these “Mexican racist gift baskets.”

It started in LA after a show.

This one guy walks up to me with a basket,
and he’s like,

“Hey, what’s up, homey?
Got you a racist gift basket.”

I said, “We’re the same race.”
“Hey, whatever.” “All right, whatever.”

I take it backstage,

and all the items in the basket
made it to my house.

There was a Mexican blanket
with a tiger on it,

a bunch of bottles of Fanta,
bottles of sangria,

Vicente Fernández CDs, Mexican candy,

pan dulce, sweet bread, mazapanes.

Everything made it to my house.

Now...

the more East Coast we started traveling

and the more Down South
we started performing...

the more...

creative...

the gift baskets started getting.

Fast-forward to Mobile, Alabama.

Oh, it gets good.

Earlier tonight,
before we kicked off this special,

my friend Martin was out here
making a couple of announcements.

One of the announcements that he made was,

“If you brought a gift,
please hold on to it until after the show.

Don’t bring it to the stage.

It could interrupt the flow
of the performance.”

The only reason
why he makes this announcement

every single night

is because of one show in Mobile.

So here’s what happens.

I tell
the entire “Racist Gift Basket Story,”

the full 16 minutes, right?

As soon as I finish,
a guy from the back of the theater

rushes the front of the stage.

Now keep in mind this area is full.

In Mobile
the aisle was right up the middle.

So the guy had a clean shot to me.

He hauled ass like it was
The Price Is Right all the way down.

Much like tonight,
there was security there that night.

Security sees the guy with the basket,
but no one thought to stop him.

All they did was,
“That’s pretty.”

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s pretty, yeah.”

So the guy makes it all the way
to the front, takes the gift basket,

and he puts it on the stage.

Now he’s heckling me
from where you’re sitting.

I’m standing here and he’s like, “Fluffy!”

“What’s up, dude?”
“I got this for you.”

Thank you.

“Open it.”

I go, “Sir, we’re in the middle of a show
right now.”

I says, “I appreciate the gift.
That’s very nice of you.

But how about this?
I’ll open it after the show.”

“Oh, come on, Fluffy.
I wanna see your face.”

“Sir, how about this?

How about you take the gift basket and
bring it to the side where security’s at?

And I’ll have security escort you
behind the curtain.

And then I’ll open it up backstage
with you in front of me. How’s that?”

And he’s not taking no for an answer.

Now the problem is the crowd just saw me
tell “The Racist Gift Basket Story,”

and all of a sudden
there’s a guy with a gift basket.

They have no idea I’m not affiliated

with freakin’ Duck Dynasty
in the front row.

So now I’m trying to defuse the situation
before it gets crazy,

but he’s not taking no for an answer.

Next thing you know, he does something
no other audience member has ever done

in my 19-plus years as a comedian.

He takes the whole crowd away from me,
flips ’em, and then uses ’em on me...

in five seconds.

It was the most amazing, horrific thing
I have ever witnessed.

This is all he did:

“Come on, Fluffy!

We wanna see your face!

We wanna see your face!
We wanna see your--”

He gets 2,000 people behind him
to start chanting.

“We wanna see your face.

We wanna see your face.”

It was very evident this was not
the first rally he’s ever led.

The crowd is so loud,

I can no longer hear myself
over the monitor.

So I’m like-- I lost.
So I get on my hands and knees.

I put the microphone down,
I grab the gift basket,

and I start tearing it open.

I reach in.

Forget about pulling out Mexican soda,
Mexican candy or a Mexican blanket.

This dude was a pro.

I started pulling out gardening tools.

I’m pulling out a rake,
a toy shovel, a toy leaf blower.

“Dig deeper, Fluffy! Dig deeper!”

I pull out a soccer ball.
I go, “Dude, it says Puerto Rico.”

“They ran out of Mexico.”

I pull out a brick.
I go, “What’s the brick for?”

“The wall.”

I pull out an actual application
for US citizenship.

I said,
“There’s no way this can get any worse.”

“Dig deeper!”

I was wrong.

I pull out
an old-school box of Crayola Crayons.

You know, the 64-pack
that has a sharpener in the back?

Okay.

There’s a window
on the front of the crayons

so you can see
all of the colors that are in the box.

All of the crayons in the box are brown

except for one white crayon
right in the middle.

And I said,
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

And he looks at me and he says,
“Welcome to my world.”

The crowd is laughing so hard,

I know for a fact I don’t have a joke
that’s gonna follow that.

So I made like
that was the end of my performance.

I picked up the gift basket.
I said, “Thank you, Mobile!”

And I gave the guy a dirty look.
“Motherfucker!”

I go behind the curtain.
Martin is waiting behind the curtain.

And Martin’s like, “Bro.

You killed it out there.”

I go, “Martin,
they weren’t laughing at my jokes.”

“What were they laughing at?”
And I showed him the application.

And he’s like--

“You’re not my friend. Not my friend.”

So I walk into the dressing room,
you guys, and I’m pissed, man.

I walk in. I close the door.

Put the basket down.
I’m scratching my head.

I’m trying to think,
“What could I have done

to have prevented that
from getting to where it went?

Should I have grabbed
the gift basket, moved it out of the way?

Should I have had security grab the guy?
Grab the gift basket and the guy?”

Every idea that I’m coming up with
is ending worse.

Finally, I accept it.

I jump in the shower.

I get out. I get dressed.
Security shows up.

“Mr. Iglesias?”

“Yeah.” “Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a second.”
I grab my backpack. I put on my backpack.

I walk over to the door,
open up the door. “Let’s go.”

He sees the gift basket on the chair,

and he’s trying to be nice.

“I’ll get that for you, sir.”

“Uh--

Yeah, bring it.

Bring... Never know
when you might need an application.”

So now he’s escorting me out the back door
of the theater into an empty parking lot

on our way to the tour bus
that’s at the very end of the parking lot.

We’re walking for a good four minutes.

All of a sudden, I hear this:

“Fluffy!

Whoo-ooh! Fluffy!

Flu-Flu-Flu-Flu-Flu-Flu-Flu-Fluffy!
Hoo-hoo, Fluffy!”

I’m like, “Is he hog-calling me?”

“I believe so, sir.”

It’s the guy that gave me the gift basket,

and now he’s standing
next to the tour bus.

So there’s no way I’m gonna get past him.

So I’m like, “Man!” So we stop walking.

Security’s like,
“Would you like me to call for backup?”

“You don’t need to.
He’s not gonna hurt me.

It’s just gonna get really weird.”

I pull out my cell phone,
and I’m trying to text Martin.

“Come on, Martin. Get over--”
He’s not replying.

The guy gets tired of waiting
next to the bus.

So now he’s walking towards me,

but he’s doing it in a really weird way.

He’s walking towards me
like I’m a dangerous animal.

Okay? He’s doing this: “Fluffy.

Fluffy.”

“I’m not gonna do anything!”

And he walks over, and he’s just ranting.

“All right, look here, Fluffster.

First and foremost,
let me just tell you something right now.

I’ve been watching your comedy
for about seven years now,

and my favorite joke that you tell

is when you give that gift basket
to your colored friend G.

Man, first time
I heard you tell that joke,

I wanted to laugh really hard,
but I couldn’t, right?

’Cause I was at a bar
sitting next to two black people.

You can’t laugh at a black joke
in front of black people

’cause they get all uppity,
start chanting civil rights

and Rosa Parks and shit like that.

And, hey, I voted for Obama,
but it’s too soon to laugh.

You know what I’m sayin’?

Anyway, I took my happy ass home,
and I got on the Internet,

and I Googled ‘Racist Gift Basket, ’
and your joke came up,

and I had me a good old laugh, and I says,
‘You know, I love Fluffy’s sense of humor.

He likes to push the envelope
with his friends,

and he doesn’t allow political correctness
to interfere with a good friendship.

At the end of the day,
you’re still friends,

you still love each other,
you still respect one another.’

I said, ‘Hey, if the Fluffster
ever shows his ass here in Mobile,

be first in line to get me one
of them tickets.’

And you came! So I tell my friends,

‘Let’s go! Let’s go see the Fluffster.’

I said, ‘But first, I’d bet you anything
he’d appreciate it

if somebody were to get him
one of them gift baskets like he got G.’

Except we got you the UPS basket.”

“UPS basket?”

“Yeah, ‘What can brown do for you?’ So--”

“The problem is you didn’t laugh.

You got offended, and I didn’t want you
to get offended, Fluffster.

I wanted you to laugh.

But the problem is, is that, you know,
I didn’t need you thinking

that Mobile was a horrible place
and we were horrible people.

We were just trying to have fun with you
the same way you had fun with G.

We work very hard here,
40-plus hours a week myself.

And the amount of money and time
that we put into that gift basket

is only because we love you.

Hey, you have any idea
how long I was on the goddamn Internet

trying to find
an application for US citizenship?

In English? Are you shitting me?

Everything’s in español.

Hey, I voted for Obama.
I ain’t got time for that.

The bottom line is that I’m sorry
for interfering with your performance.

It’ll never happen again.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry,

and hopefully you’ll allow me
to take a picture with you.

I’m sorry.”

And I was like, “Oh, my God, I’m a dick.”

I said,
“Listen, sir, you don’t have to apologize.

I should apologize. I didn’t handle
the situation the right way.

But you gotta look at it through my eyes.

I’ve never had anyone
take an entire crowd away from me.”

“That was pretty good, huh?”
“Will you listen?

Yes, that was pretty good.

Look, I’m very sorry that I got upset.
First time that happens.

I won’t let that happen again.
You don’t have to apologize.

I will be happy
to take a picture with you.”

“Now, see-- Now, see?

That’s what I’m saying right there.
That’s what I’m saying right there!

All my friends are like,
‘To hell with that beaner.’

I said, ‘Nope. Nope.

That beaner is good people.’”

And then he pulled out his camera, right?

And he tries to hand
this disposable FunSaver camera

to this 19-year-old security guard

who’s never handled
that level of technology.

He puts the gift basket down.
We hand him the camera.

He’s looking for an app.
He’s looking for a screen.

Meanwhile, the guy wants to pose
with his arm over my shoulders.

He’s a little shorter than me,
so I gotta do this one right here, okay?

He’s got me in this headlock,
and he just starts talking.

“Look here, Fluffster.
Let me just tell you something right now.

I really appreciate what you do.

I’m gonna continue to pray for you,
your family, your friends and your success

because what you do is a godsend.

It really is.

In these times, you make people smile,
you make people laugh.

We need more of that in our lives.

Look, I’m not trying to blow smoke
up your butt, but look.

I don’t have children,
but if I ever had one of my own,

I’d hope he’d have your spirit.
God bless you.”

“Listen. Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Hey, buddy, listen.
If there’s anything I can do--”

“Hey, b-b-b-b-bah.

D-Don’t do that. Don’t do that.

Don’t do that.

Don’t say what you don’t mean.

Let’s just take a picture.

Don’t say what you don’t mean
if you don’t mean it.”

“If there’s anything I can do,
please let me know.”

“Hold up the application.”

Chicago, I love you. Thank you.

Have a great night. Thank you so much.

Thank you, thank you, thank you,
thank you, thank you, thank you!

Damn!

Martin!

Mmm, chocolate cake

Oh, my God, yes

Oh, my God, yes.