Here’s another bit of information. I also don’t want to look at them. I don’t. I refuse to watch the Michael J. Fox show because I don’t want to see shaky face not stand still for one frame.  The guy can’t eat soup. It’s depressing, okay? Try to pawn this thing off as a comedy? Get the fuck out of here. You’re bumming everybody out. How many Parkinson’s jokes am I supposed to applaud with this thing? I won’t watch the show. I’ve seen a commercial. I will not watch that show. You know why? A version of it plays in my head, and it is fucking awful. And I think it’s probably accurate. I really do. I bet you that show is nothing but setups for that shit. I bet it’s just like, here… in the next episode he goes, “dad, can you help me hammer in this nail?” And he goes, “you know they don’t trust me with those.” And then you get to go, at home, “I get it. He’s got fucking Parkinson’s.” You don’t think that’s been fucking pitched in the writers’ room? “It’s pasta night. Dad, can I get some parmesan?” “That’s one thing I can do forever.”  “I’m good. I said I’m good.” You don’t think the episode idea has been talked about, where he goes to work, and his coworker gets to say, “you know, I got to get my wife a vibrator.” “That’s one thing my wife doesn’t need.” And then you get to go, “I get it. He’s got fucking Parkinson’s.”

I don’t want to see that shit. I’m sitting at home. I’m trying to have fucking dinner. I’m sitting on my couch. We have a table, but I’m an adult, and I can sit wherever I want. So I’m sitting on the couch, about to have dinner, and this fucking… a girl… two girls… one girl… a girl… two… one… a girl… two girls… one girl who has two heads on one body comes on. Their heads face each other. Their heads are like, “Mmm.” They look like they’re gonna grunt. They look like they’re gonna go, “Mmm… Aah!” Like that, but they don’t. This comes on TV. There’s no warning on the screen, like, “hey, in a second, you might shit yourself.” Put down whatever you’re holding, seriously.” I’m sitting there, about to eat chicken paprikash, and it’s hot, and I go… *Blows* And then I look up, and I go… *screams* Ten seconds later, I’m wiping the back of my legs. Now… I’ll be honest, when she first appeared on-screen, I was like, “hey, lady, you’ve got something on your shoulder.” “No, you, you’ve got something on your shoulder.” But then, I realized, “Tommy, why are you so upset? “You love monsters.” Now… *sighs* Here’s what’s upsetting about this show. If you’re gonna air a fucking freak show, which is what that is, do you mind? Could you please include the freaky shit? That’s why we’re watching. You watch this show, the two girls with the fucking one body, two heads. *Mumbles* They’re like, “what?” “Yeah. Here’s what she likes to do. “She likes to get, fucking, her nails done. What’s the problem?” You’re like, “she has two fucking heads that face each other. Why are you cutting out scenes that I know exist?” There’s got to be days where one of them is like, “I feel like going out tonight.” “Well, I feel like staying home.” “Well, I control the legs. We’re fucking going.” Where’s that? What about people that one of ’em loves and one of ’em hates? That has to happen. They have separate minds. “We’re going to Tony’s house.” “I fucking hate Tony.” “Well, I’m gonna blow him, “so you better get ready for ball duty. Meh.”  I can feel your judgment. I reject your judgment completely. First of all, everybody loves blow jobs. Secondly, I’m not making this shit up. If your Siamese twin sister is doling out bjs, you’re along for the ride. You don’t have to participate, but you’re at least there, I don’t know, giving notes, I guess. “Mm, mm, mm.” “You have horrible technique. Meh.” “I can see your teeth. Meh.” “Why is it so dry? Meh.” All right, we’ll move it along. I get it. Not everybody’s on board with double-headed bjs. Will you at least admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you would love to see the girl with two heads take a shit? Just to see if the faces match up, right? Just to see if one of them’s like… *Grunts* And the other one’s like, “hey, take it easy. It’s my ass too, you know.” Oh, come on. I really wish that each and every one of you could see my internet search history. Because I think you would all say the same thing. I think you would all be like, “this is one sick, twisted, deviant pervert, who also loves current events.” My history is literally a back-and-forth volley of, like, “big, sloppy tits” smacked back and forth by 13 cocks.” “What’s going on in Syria?” I feel badly about watching so much of it too. You know why? ‘Cause it’s lazy. I know watching that much porn is lazy. It gets in the way of other things I want to do, like learn another language. I’d love to learn another language, but there’s too much porn to watch. Why not combine the two, right? Have you seen these language videos? They are boring. “The man is sitting down.” You’re like, “all right.” Have you seen an anal gangbang? Super exciting. Here’s what I propose. You download the series, and then tutorial number one begins to play. All right? Here’s what happens. An elevator door opens. A woman is giving a guy a blow job, all right? Like, an aggressive blow job. Not one of these, like… *Hums* No. I mean, like… *Gagging* Where you’re like, “Jesus Christ! “Is the answer in there? Is that why she’s doing that?” And she has tears running down her face and slobber all over herself. And she goes… “*Gagging*”. “Which way is the subway? *Speaks Spanish* *Gags*”. You’re like, “now it’s sinking in.” Some of you didn’t like that one. I can tell by your faces. Maybe that’s because you’re more advanced and you’re ready for tutorial number two. In this one, a man is chained to a wall. His arms and his legs are chained, and he’s completely naked, and you’re like, “whoa. What’s going on here?” And then, a few seconds later, a woman enters frame, and she’s wearing, I don’t know, a 15-inch strap-on. She doesn’t say hello or tap him on the shoulder. No warning, just bow! You’re like, “holy shit!” And she just goes to hammer town. She’s like, “bow! Bow! Bow!” And you’re like, “what the fuck?” And then, after, like, the tenth stroke, she goes, “this salad is too spicy. *Speaking Spanish*”. And you’re like, “I’m learning Spanish. Can somebody pass me a Kleenex?”

*Sighs* Mm. I’m married. You like that segue? I like being married. I do. You see a lot of comics, you go to shows, and they’ll be like, “I love getting out of the house, just so I can get away from that bitch.” And you’re like, “wow, sounds like you married a real fucking asshole, man. That’s awesome.” I like it. You know what the best part of being married is? You get to stop pretending. And that’s what fucking dating is. It’s an act. You’re on Broadway. For however long you’re dating, you’re doing an act, and it looks exhausting. That’s why if you’re dating and you’ve ever been out in public, and you see married people look at you like this, and you’re like, “what the fuck are they looking at?” They’re tired for you. It is… it’s an act, and it’s exhaust… you see it all… dating is a guy going, “uh, just so you know, I’m this guy.” And the girl’s like, “well, just so you know, I am this girl.” And then you get married, and you’re like, “uh, so can we knock this shit off?” And she goes, “I hope so”, “because I gotta fart pretty bad. I’ve actually had to fart for, like, four years.” “All right. Let that fart out.” Sexually liberating to get married. It is, really is. Especially for men, ’cause here’s what happens. When you start dating somebody, you know, your first thing is like, all right, you see the girl, and you’re like, “I want to get in there.” That would be… or however you phrase it in your head, right?  Right, and then, you go out on a few dates, and as you get closer to the act… the magical act happening, a lot of times a woman will ask a guy. She’ll be like, “oh, so, like, what are you into?” What do you like?” And this is when a man’s brain goes, “don’t scare her. You could fuck this up for us.” So we lie to you, and we’re like, “oh, I like to hold hands.” “Uh, I like if you go… *Blows* On my neck. That’s cool.” Then you get married, and you’re like, “I want you to yank on my ball bag “like you’re stuck at sea and this is the only motor that’s gonna take you home.”

A lot of girlfriends can’t handle that shit. Girlfriends will be like, “ugh, what?” But a wife? A wife will go, “that it?” And you’re like, “oh, yeah, I get you for, like, 50 years.” She’s like, “yeah, I’ll spit butter in your ass.” Whatever you want, man.” Or whatever. Margarine, I don’t know. Whatever you’re into, so… olive oil. You find, the longer you’re with somebody, you’re like, everybody has something. Everybody has something weird and kinky and different. Everyb… and you suppress it, and you go, like, “oh, my god.” “If anybody knew… oh, my god. I would fucking die if somebody knew.” Everybody has something. And you’re like, “no, not everybody. What about Jim? He wears a blazer.” Jim too. Jim likes to be hit in the nuts with a wrench, okay? Jim’s out of his fucking mind. I tour the country. I ask people all the ti… I hear shit. You cannot make this sh… I was at a show. I asked people in the aud… like, “what’s your fucking craziest thing?” And a lady in the front row, she goes, “I have one.” And I go, “what is it?” And she goes, “oh, never mind.”  I go, “what is it?” And she goes, “all right. “I like to think of different scenarios in which to kill my husband.” And I was like, “damn.” And he was sitting right there, and he was like, “that’s what’s up. That’s what she likes.” I was like, “really?” And she was like, “oh, yeah.” I go, “you go, ‘I’m super horny. “‘I had the best dream “‘that you were floating in the pool, and then I threw a cement block at your head.'” and she goes, “that would be a great one.” Same show, I swear to you, a lady goes, “I have one.” And I go, “what is it?” And she goes, “I like to sit on my husband’s face.” And I go, “that’s not that unique. You can’t really claim that that’s your weird thing.” And she goes, “yeah, but I only like to feel his eyelashes” against my butt cheeks.” And I was like, “what?”  And she goes, “mm-hmm.” And I was like, “I didn’t even know that was a thing.” And she was like, “oh, yeah.” Like, “where the fuck have you been?” And I’m like, “what if he, like, you know, sneaks a lick”, like, ah-ah, like that?” And she goes, “I go, ‘no!'” I just want to feel squink-squink-squink.” So stop feeling weird and sit on people’s faces, all right? That’s what I want you to leave here with.

Guys, we’ve covered a lot of stuff tonight. We really have. Some of you might, you know, not think highly of me. I don’t know, some of you might be like, “this guy’s fucking stupid.” Some of you might think I’m offensive. Some of you might think I’m unenlightened. I don’t know. But I will tell you this. I believe in humanity. I do. I believe we’re all here together, and I believe there’s no such thing as coincidence. And I think I can tell you the story that will also make you believe this, all right?

A few years ago, I was in Washington D.C., and I was sharing a cab with a woman I didn’t know. Never met her before in my life. We’re splitting the cab. Midway through the ride, as I’m looking out my window, I hear the woman go, “hey.” And I thought she was gonna be like, “hey, like, you want to fuck or something?” And I was gonna be like, “I can’t. I’m married. So make it quick, all right?” I look over, I’m like, “what is it?” And she goes, “is this yours?” And she’s holding a wallet. And I go, “no, it’s not mine.” And she goes, “oh, it must be the previous rider’s wallet.” I’ll just give it to the driver.” And I go, “don’t do that. Look at him.” “He looks like a cab driver. “He probably smokes crack every once in a while. You can’t trust these guys.” I go, “give it to me.” I’ll get it back to the rightful owner.” And she goes, “really?” I go, “yeah.” She gives me the wallet. Now, I feel obligated to find the owner. But here’s the honest-to-god truth, I really want to. I’ve always dreamed about finding a wallet. I don’t know why. I dreamed I would find a wallet, I would open it, it would have $1,000 in it, I would get it back to the rightful owner, it would turn out to be, like, Will Smith, and then he’d be like, “do you want a helicopter?” And I’d be like, “yeah.” And then I’d be like, “I got a family in Denver. Do you like furniture?” So I open this wallet. It has $2, a grocery store rewards card, and a community college I.D. So I have found not Will Smith’s wallet. But I still try to do the right thing. I call the grocery store, I explain the situation, and I go, “can you help me out?” And they go, “no, we’re a grocery store. “We don’t track people down. Eggs are on sale. Go fuck yourself.” And I was like, “cool.” Thank you. Thank you for your help.” Then, I call the community college, and I speak to literally every department in the community college for 41/2 hours, before I finally get a contact number. I call the number, and a man answers the phone who I can only imagine has never used a phone before, ’cause he actually answers the phone with a noise. So just to break this shit down, I don’t know if you’ve ever used a phone before, but usually, when you call someone, *mimics phone ringing* And they pick it up, they say, “hello.” That’s fucking it. That’s what people say when they answer the phone. Maybe if they’re in a bad mood, “what?” Those are the two options. This man answers the phone… *Mimics phone ringing* Picks it up, and he goes, “ah.” And I go, “hello?” And he goes, “wah.” And I go, “I’m gonna talk, and then you talk.” And he goes, “yeah.” Like, it was the first time someone explained to him how fucking phone calls work. Up until that point, he was just like, “that made a noise.” “I’m gonna make a noise too. Ah.” So I go, “hey, I found this wallet.” “I was given your number. I’m trying to return the wallet.” And he says, “it’s probably my son’s wallet. “He’s always losing shit because he’s a piece of shit.” That’s the first thing… I don’t even know how to respond. I’m like, “ah.” I go, “well, can I give him his shit back?” He goes, “he’s a real asshole.” And I go, “we’re talking about your son right now?” And he goes, “yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna amount to anything.” I go, “Jesus Christ.” I go, “maybe he will amount to something” if he gets his wallet back.” And he goes, “yeah, yeah.” I’ll let him know you called.” And then he hangs up the phone without taking my information. So his plan is to go to his son and be like, “some guy found your wallet. Yeah, I don’t fucking know,” and just, like, walk away.