Now, something a little more positive for you, don’t want you to think the whole show is just negativity. This is about a festival. This is my idea for one of those big outdoor summer festivals. This is called “slug-fest.” This is for men only. Here’s what you do… you get about 100,000 of these fucking men; you know the ones I mean, these macho motherfuckers, yeah, these strutting, preening, posturing, hairy, sweaty, alpha-male jackoffs… the muscle assholes. You take about 100,000 of these disgusting pricks and you throw them in a big dirt arena, big 25-acre dirt arena and you just let them beat the shit out of each other for 24 hours nonstop, no food, no water, just whiskey and PCP! And you just let them punch and pound and kick the shit out of each other until only one guy is left standing, then you take that guy and you put him on a pedestal and you shoot him in the fucking head! Yeah. Then you put the whole thing on TV. Budweiser would jump at that shit in half a minute… and guys would volunteer, guys would line up, all you gotta do is promise them a small appliance of some kind. Men will do anything, just give them something that plugs in the wall and makes a whirring noise.

Here’s another male cliché… these guys that cut the sleeves off of their t-shirts so the rest of us can have an even more compelling experience of smelling their armpits. I say “Hey Bruno, shut it down would you please? You smell like an anchovy’s cunt okay? Ughh… not good… ugh… ugh… whoa… not good Bruno, and definitely not for sharing.” This is the same kind of guy that has that barbed wire tattoo that goes all the way around the bicep. You’ve seen that haven’t you? That’s just what I need; some guy who hasn’t been laid since the bicentennial wants me to think he’s a “baaad motherfucka” because he’s got a picture… aha ha… a painting of some barbed wire on his- I say “hey junior, come around when you have the real thing on there, I’ll squeeze that shit on good and tight for ya okay?” No kidding, no kidding, this is the same kind of guy, that if you smashed him in the face 8 or 9 times with a big chunk of concrete, and then beat him over the head with a steel rod for an hour and a half, you know what? He dropped like a fucking rock. Like a rock. Here’s another guy thing that sucks… these t-shirts that say “Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” You ever see that? This is more of that stupid Marine Corps bullshit; obsolete, male impulses from 100,000 years ago. “Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” You know what I do when I see that shirt? I obstruct! I stand right in the guy’s path, force him to walk around me, gets a little past me, I spin him around, kick him in the nuts, rip off the shirt, wipe it on my ass, and shove it down his fucking throat! That’s what I do when I see that shirt. Yeah. Hey listen, that’s all these marines are looking for… a good time. And speaking of tough guys, I’m getting a little tired of hearing that after 6 policemen get arrested for shoving a floor lamp up some black guy’s ass and ripping his intestines out, the police department announces they’re gonna have sensitivity training. I say “hey, if you need special training to be told not to jam a large cumbersome object up someone else’s asshole, maybe you’re too fucked up to be on the police force in the first place huh?” Maybe, maybe not, I don’t know, listen… you know what they ought to do? They ought to have two new requirements for being on the police; intelligence and decency! You never can tell, it might just work; it certainly hasn’t been tried yet. No one should ever have any object placed inside their asshole that is larger than a fist and less loving than a dildo okay?

Now, this next thing is about our president. This is about our president. Bill Jeff, Bill Jeff, Bill Jeff, Clinton… I don’t call him “Clinton”, I call him “Clit-tin”… “Clit-tin… C-L-I-T… T-I-N apostrophe!” His big deal was JFK, isn’t that right? Loved JFK, wanted to emulate JFK in every way. Well, JFK’s administration was called “Camelot”… well, it really should’ve been called “Come-a-lot” cause that’s what he did, he came a lot! So Clinton’s looking for a legacy, that’s what he should call- well maybe, “Come-a-little” would be better for him cause he came a little, you know… little on the dress, little on the desk, not a whole lot, really. Hey, he was no match, no match for Kennedy in the pussy department. Kennedy aimed high; Marilyn Monroe. Clinton showed his dick to a government clerk. There’s a drop-off here. There’s a drop-off.
