How we doing, New York?
Thank you very much.
I took kinesiology in,uh, college.
Which is a big word for gym,
if you're not sure what I'mtalking about.
And then I was a schoolteacher.
My first job, I couldn't geta job teaching phys ed,
so I lied, which backfired.
They made me teach 12th gradehistory, which was impossible.
I didn't even take12th grade history
when I was in high school.
So I had to go home every nightand read the chapters myself,
first, to learn everything.
Then I'd come in and teach it.
I'd even assign the homework,like this.
All right, tonight for homework,
I'd like you to read chaptersone to three, okay?
And then stop reading,all right?
Don't go reading ahead, comingin asking questions tomorrow.
Stuff I haven't learned yet.
'Cause that's whatthe smart kids would do.
This kid, Duncan, every day,
"Sir, what happenedto the Mayan civilization?"
"What chapter areyou on, Duncan?"
"What, are you a loser? You readthe whole book already?"
We can't say that.
So I had to lie--that's what teachers do.
Not a teacher in the world
admits they don't knowthe answer.
We turn it back on the kidswhen we don't know.
Oh, is that right, Duncan?
You think I'm just goingto spoon-feed you
the answers all year?
No, that's not how I teach.
So, thanks to Duncan,
I would like everybodyto go home tonight
and look up what happened
or whatever he's mumblingabout at the back.
I'd even have...
I'd even have Duncan come upand write the question
on the board in big letters.
Because I needed to seehow he spelled Mayan,
so I could Googleit later myself.
Thank God for Google
when you can't spell.
"Did you mean this word, idiot?"Yes.
Then I had to come in the nextday and take up the homework.
I still don't know whathappened to the Mayans.
All the dumb kids wantto answer.
I couldn't ask the dumb kids.
I don't know if their answeris right or wrong.
What am I going to say?
So I would ask the smartest kid,"Lorraine, you want to tell us
what happened tothe Mayan civilization?"
Then whatever she'd say,I'd vote.
"How many people agreewith that answer?"
I finally got to teach phys ed.
Thank God.That's all I knew.
My first year,I had a fifth grade class.
I hated this kid, Billy.
Can't hit 'em.
That's gone... you don't...
You do, there's days you feellike it, you can't.
Then I learned one day,I thought, you know what,
there's nothing that saysI can't hit 'em
if I play dodge ball with 'em.
And that's what I did,every day.
We'd use tennis balls, too,to speed it up a little bit.
Keep them in the staff roomfridge, in case it got hot.
And I would always pick teams.
They're like,"Can we have captains?"
No, no, no captains.I'm the captain for both teams.
Billy-- you're on that side,good luck.
I'm going to play again,
and I'm going to goon this side, okay?
The rest of you go whereverthe hell you want.
I don't carewhat you guys do.
You can go to the libraryfor all I care.
And I would do the same thing.
I'd always look forthe good tennis balls.
The ones that had the fuzz allshaved off, those were the best.
Because you could hear theleather when it hit 'em-- oh!
I got you rightin the face, Billy! Wow!
Where you going? Billy?Where you going?
No, no! You're not out!
It was above the neck,you're okay, come on back, yeah.
Anyway, you guys enjoythe rest of the show.
Thank you very much.
I did a show last night and,after the show,
this lady came up to me and shesaid, "You are very funny,
and you are waitingto be discovered."
I don't know if that's true.
But, if it is, I certainly knowhow magnesium felt in 1816.
Normally, I have a lot of jokesabout history,
but recently a friend of minesaw my act,
and he was, like, "John, waytoo many jokes about history,
"and not enough jokesabout poop.
"So stop telling jokes
about Russian history,"he said,
"and just writea good poop joke."
And I listened, 'causethat's how you get better.
You take criticismand you apply it.
I was, like, you know what?He's right.
I don't have a poop joke.
But I don't really have a jokeabout Russia either.
I should write a poop jokeabout Russia.
And it goes like this:
"Hey, Bill, why you Russian?"
"Oh, I'm in a hurry
because I have a horrible caseof the Trotskys."
"I've got the opposite problem,Bill.
I have the Stalins."
"Well, at least you don't have
to worry aboutruining your Lenins."
"Oh, not true.I'm doing a lot of Putin.
"Feels like I did a Nickolaiof Faberge egg,
"but all I'm doing is leaving
some pretty severeKarl skid Marx."
"Last week, I ruineda brand-new perestroika."
"Oh, you've gotto be Bolsheviking me!"
"Oh, no. I am cosmonaut."
"Oh, I think USSR."
"Well, if you don't believe me,then Soviet!"
I think we're goinga little overboard
with security these days.
I'm not talking about theairport. I understand that.
I'm talking about the Internet.
The e-mail passwordrequirements--
I think they're gettinga little out of hand.
I tried to getan e-mail address recently.
I was rejected by the server
because my passwordcontained an English word in it.
I'm not arguingwith the server.
Technically, there wasan English word in my password.
But, if someone can just guess
that my passwordis carebearstare1980.
Like, I don't really careabout my e-mail at that point.
I want themto stop reading my mind.
You know,it's not just e-mail either.
I've got PayPal,I've got MySpace,
I've got 9,000 passwords,all with their
Like, I sit downto log into any account,
and three monkeysin a room of typewriters
have a better chance ofproducing my password than I do.
I've always gotto do my research beforehand.
Be, like, what kind of moodwas I in the year 2001?
You know, check the password
requirements, thinkingthat will jog my memory.
This password mustbe at least 30 characters,
no more than 40 characters,
form a complete sentence usingimproper subject-verb agreement,
and contain at leastone Hebrew character.
What did I put for that one?
The boy were running, alef.
Damn it! Arrgh!
Mooses am huge, selah.
Damn it!Is it meese? I don't even know.
It's like I have a meese,mooses, meesum and moosai.
They're, like,if you don't know your password,
why don't we juste-mail this to you?
I'm, like, no, I don't knowmy Hotmail password.
This does me no good.
But I'm there,so I've got to try.
Care bear stare 1980.
Cap Lock. CAREBEARSTARE1980.Damn it!
Damn it! Capital "C"areCapital "B"earstare1980.
Damn it!Of course, now I've done it.
I've put inone too many passwords,
and they've got to shut me downin case I'm a Russian spy
trying to figure outAmerican mortgage rates.
So they ask me,"Would you like to answer
your secretsecurity password question?"
I think, oh, yeah.
Oh, yeah. Surely,I can answer a question
posed by a slightly younger me.
"What's your pet peeve?"
Oh, passwords! Damn it!Capital P-asswords!
All right, thank you, guys.
(cheers and applause)
Thanks. That's just enough.
Enough for you guysto get used to my head.
I was in denialabout losing my hair.
You really want to know whatyou look like to other people?
Here's how I found out.
Don't look at a pictureof yourself, or in the mirror.
You really want to know?
Have a child draw you.
Yeah. Kids will find your mostinsecure physical quality
and draw the hell out of it,right?
You're, like, five poundsoverweight, like, five pounds.
Kid's, like, "Lookit!I drawing you!
Look! You're a fat circle,you fat circle!"
Your eyesare a millimeter uneven.
An FBI facial retina scan
wouldn't be able to tellthe difference. Kid's, like,
"Here's one eye. Here'sthe other eye, droopy face!
Look, Droopy Face!"
Then they tell you who youlook like. That's never good.
Their frame of referenceis fictional characters.
My niece told me I looked likeMr. Burns from The Simpsons.
No need to clap.
Great. Thank you. That's great.
I'm amazing looking.
It doesn't matter. I'm out.
I just got engagedthree years ago and...
Yeah, no... no clappingon that probably.
She proposed to me.
How weird is that?
She wasn't thoughtful.It wasn't romantic.
She just came in and said it.
She was, like, "Listen, uh...I, uh... I'm pregnant."
Golden gun right here.
It's crazy.My first thought was,
"I'm not mature enough at allto be a father."
Like, that day, I had actually
taken a picture of my ball sack
and text-messaged itto my friend.
Because that's hilarious to me.
But, at the same time,not so fatherly... right?
Had to send him another text.
I was, like, "Guess what.Those work."
I went from total anxietyabout having a kid to, uh...
to just being the happiest guyin the world.
Like, I'm the most obnoxiousfather you could ever...
Like, I'm that guy who will...who will force pictures
of his kid on completestrangers; I don't care.
It's, like, "Look. Look.Huh? Pretty cute."
I have this pictureof my daughter on my phone,
in the bathtub,when she was, like, a year old.
And I showed it to this girl--I'm in line at the store.
I was, like, "Huh? Pretty cute."
The girl just looks at me,and she's, like,
"Oh! Is that your daughter?"
"No. No. I, uh... I takenaked baby photos, actually.
"I got to go.
"My windowless white vanis double-parked outside
"full of candy and teddy bears.
I don't want them to melt."
She just turned two,and I'm very happy about that
because now I don't haveto age her in months,
because the puzzled lookon a young guy's face
when you say that, right?
The guy's, like,you don't know...
You don't want tothink about... right?
You don't know what that means,if I say 18 months.
You're probably wearing a condomright now, right, buddy?
You're like, "Yes.I don't want to think."
I say 18 months,you try to say something polite,
but you have no ideawhat you're talking about.
I'm, like,"Yeah. She's 18 months."
Like, "Oh, that's great.Is she eating?"
"No. No, not yet, hopefully.
"She's still in her mother'spouch-- she's a marsupial--
so, hopefully,soon she'll get teeth."
I love messing with people, man.
I saw a lady a few weeks agoat my gym.
I can't make this up, clearly.
She was on the stationary bike,wearing a helmet.
And I was, like,I have to do something here
to mess with her.
There's got to be somethingthat I can do.
I started looking around,I went in the pool,
and I grabbed the life preserverring off the wall--
that ring thing--I put it around my head.
And I got on the rowing machinenext to her. I was, like...
"It's pretty windy in here!
"I hope I don't drown!
I got to go. My name's Pete.Thank you very much.
What is up, New York?How are we, good?
I got up at 3:00 p.m. today.
I'm the responsible guy.I did that.
I got up early today, 3:00 p.m.
I wanted to get it startedright; I do that.
I'm a comic-- you know,I work 20 minutes a day.
Then I sleep till 3:00 p.m.
but the worst part isI take naps,
which I have no business doing.
You know, the audacityto take a nap
when you sleep till 3:00 p.m.,
and then you take a napat 4:00 p.m.
I'll do that.
I love NBA basketball.
It's my favorite black showon television.
Never miss that.
It's a great show. I love it.
I love what they sayafter the game.
They usually blow us awaywith wisdom
like: Shaquille O'Neal,a spectacular game.
How do you feel?
Uh, basically, I try to goout there and get it done.
You know, I bounce a ballaround a couple times,
put the ball in the hoop,
Exquisitely put, Mr. O'Neal.
And I always loved Shaq,'cause Shaq's not just
a great athlete,he's a great actor.
1996's Kazaam moved me to tears;should've won the Oscar.
His last rap record soldseveral copies worldwide,
if you're lucky enough to getyour hands on one of those.
So it's like Shaq should bea standup comic.
So I do one impression, and I'lldo this one for you guys.
This is my impressionof Shaquille O'Neal
as a standup comedian.
You know, a lot of times,
when people see me doingstandup comedy
they be, like, "Shaq."and I be, like, "What?"
And they be, like,
"Shaq, do you do anyimpressionizations of anybody?"
And I tell them, yes, I do
a fewimpressionizations of people.
This first one be actorWill Smith
in every movie I see him in
'cause he always doesthe same damn thing, like this:
Yeah, you know!
That be Will Smithin every movie I seen him in.
Can you dig that?
Right about now, I'd like to domy next impressionization.
This be my impressionizationof actor Morgan Freeman.
realizing somebody stolehis car
from the parking lotof the Sizzler restaurant.
I think it would go like this.
Well, that was some goodpopcorn shrimp.
I love me some popcorn shrimp.
Well, now hold on, damn it.
Where's my automobile?
I know I parked itright over yonder.
Ain't this some crap?
Anybody seen a 19 and 72Cadillac Eldorado?
With AM and FMcassette radio?
You people need to stop thislaughter instantaneously.
Now I'm up here tryingto ascertain the whereabouts
of my automobile,and y'all's carrying on
like some schoolgirls, damn it.
Bunch of low-rent...
You people don't know meup in here; I'm big-time.
Go home and Google me.
Been in movies with Ashley Judd,seen her naked.
What you gonna do?
Well, now, hold on.
You know something,I'm getting a little older now
and I forget thingsfrom time to time.
And it seems that I tooka taxicab here,
so I apologizefor all the crap-talking.
Go on about your business.
That be Morgan Freemanrealizing his car got stolen.
Can you dig it? Thank you.
Right about now, I'd like to domy next impressionization.
The be my impressionizationof actor Samuel L. Jackson
critiquing my previousimpressionization
of actor Morgan Freeman,and it goes like this.
Look, I'm all for (bleep)impression.
I love the (bleep).Hell, I eat it up.
But leave it to a dumbasslike Shaq to have Morgan Freeman
eating at the ...damn Sizzler
It don't make no ...damn sense.
(bleep) Last time I checked,he don't eat at the Sizzler.
And furthermore, what makes youthink he's gonna take a cab
to the ...damn Sizzler?
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
That's about enough outof Mr. Jackson's ass.
Right about now, I'd liketo do my last impressionization.
I be noticing that rapperand actor Ice T used to have
an album called Cop Killer.
And on television's Law & Order
he be playing a cop.
I find thatto be somewhat ironical.
Here goes an episodeof Law & Order
I done wrote with a pen,starring Ice T,
and it goes like this:
(imitates police radio static)
Yo, man, yo,check this out, man, yo.
Yo, one Roger nine, 3-84,sucker.
This is Officer T, man.
(lisping):Yo, I'm respondingto a possible...
possible code 21, man.
I just got some old mancalled, talk about
stole his Cadillacfrom the parking lot
of the Sizzler restaurant.
And I ain't requesting backup'cause I ain't no bitch. Over.
All right, you guys, that's my time.
My name's Freddy Lockhart.
Thank you very much.
Hey, party animals. Hi.
So, uh, I went out with this guyrecently,
and I think he was bragging,like, about how evolved he is.
He's, like, "Yeah, I don'tgo to titty bars.
It's not my thing."
I was, like, "I think if yousay 'titty bar...'
you might as well go."
It's actually right upyour alley.
Know what he should'vecalled it...
was a "Gentleman's club."
Ladies, right? Right?
You're, like, "Why can't I meeta real gentleman
in this day and age?"
Well, maybe we can't find 'em'cause they're all hanging out
in that exclusive club.
They're in there openingdoors for each other.
Saying "Please" and "Thank you."
A-powderin' their wigs.
Let me in.
I saw something cutethe other day.
I saw this woman pushinga stroller,
and in the strollerwas a small dog.
And I was, like, "Lucky dog."
And she's, like,"Well, he's paralyzed."
"I'm so sorry."
I felt bad. I did.
But I got to tell you,
I could not stop thinkingabout it all day.
I was, like, "Paralyzed dog."
If I were eight years old,
that would bemy ultimate fantasy,
to have my very ownparalyzed dog.
'Cause you know, like,your stuffed animals,
they're cute and fluffy...
but they're not alive.
Finally, you get thatliving, breathing pet,
and what's the problem?
It won't sit still.
So I was, like, "What a greatidea for a business."
There's got to be moreanimals out there like that.
I'm not gonna break their legs,come on, people.
But why not unitethe disabled animals
with peoplewho'll appreciate them?
Supply and demand.
I've already come upwith the whole business plan.
The name of the business:Paralyzed Pets.
Alliteration, to the point.
The logo is gonna be a schnauzerin a tuxedo in a wheelchair...
Smiling-- he's happy.
Maybe, like, a cat on crutchesnext to him...
...wearing a tutu.
And the best partis the slogan:
Paralyzed Pets: All of thelovin', and none of the runnin'.
Yes. Thank you.
Um, I'm gonna be honest,you guys.
I buy the majority of myclothing at thrift stores.
I'm sure you're shocked.
You're shocked, right?I know.
Some people think it's gross.
They're, like, "You don't knowwhere those clothes have been.
They might be dirty."
But I personally am willingto risk catching crabs
from my pants in exchangefor substantial discounts.
It just makes sense.
However, there is one thing
that I run across at the thriftstores pretty frequently,
that totally creeps me out.
And that is the shirtdoesn't stop at the waist.
It keeps going downunder the crotch
and then it snaps.
Um, I just don't knowwhy these were ever invented.
Like, was a tight tuckever that important?
Was some lady, like,"Hey, guys, over here!
"Oh, God, no!
"Oh, God, snap it down!Snap it down.
"You're not going nowhere,shirt.
You're gonna stay right herein my pants where I put you."
I feel like you might as wellwear stirrup pants also.
Batten down all the hatches.
It's the tightest outfit ever.
And then put on overalls
and go out drinkingwith your friends.
Then when you have to goto the bathroom,
you're, like, "I don't even knowwhere to begin."
All right, that's it for me.Thank you.
(cheering and applause)
Gotham! Let me know!
What's going on?!
(whooping and applause stop)
God, it's amazing-- I just cameup with that move right now.
Whoa! Got a stool,in case I need to sit down.
I like using props,you know what I'm talking about?
That's a stool right there.I don't sit on stools.
A lot of guys sit on stools--not very sexy, all right?
Bang. Is that sexy, guy, huh?
Nah, I don't sit on stools.You know what I do with a stool?
Bang, right there.Look at that, look at that.
Look how hot that isright there.
What's that say to a girlthe minute I walk into a bar?
That says I gota very elastic groin,
that's what it says--look at that.
I'm not even lookingat the chick--
I'm just lookingat my dungarees right now.
That's a hot look.
That's how you warm 'em up,you know what I'm talking about?
You guys listening?Take notes, all right?
Look at me, guy.
All right? Look.
That's how you warm 'em up.
You want to set 'em on fire?
You want to set 'em on fire?Watch this. Ready?
Fire! Look at that!
Look at that! You have no ideahow arched my foot is right now.
I got a crampin the middle of my foot.
I don't give a rat crap.I don't give a rat crap!
My new dungarees.
Lot of times I show up at a bar,I'm not wearing dungarees.
Sometimes I just show up ina pair of 1970s running shorts.
I said it!
I like the 1970s running short.
You can show offthis part of the thigh.
That's a hot look on a man--kind of white and hairy for me.
No? Does nothing for you?
You know what else I loveabout the 1970s running short?
You can let your three-piece setjust duck out the side.
You know what I'm talking about?
Just let it duck out the sideaccidentally on purpose.
Don't show the whole thing.
Just a little bit--just the nubs.
You can't show the whole thing,guy-- you show the whole thing,
it looks like somebody threwa baby bird
against your leg,you know what I'm talking about?
There's nothing sexy abouta dead baby bird on your leg.
You got me, guy?
Pay attentionwhen I'm talking to you.
I'm thinking about changing my name.
I don't like Bryan.Bryan Callen.
It sounds likea piece of wet cotton
hitting the floor,you know what I'm talking about?
Dead before you get outof the gates, you know, guy?
Change my nameto something sexy,
something animalistic, like...
(snarls like a cat)
Isn't that hot name?Just... (snarls)
Sounds like an angry tomcat.
Just my name, honey.
My last name is gonna besomething really macho,
something hard, something male.
Like... (sudden gasp)
Something that hurtsyour vocal cords to say,
so it costs you somethingto say my name!
Nobody's named...(snarls, gasps)
I got a problemwith my hair, though.
Jumping ship quick.
I'm taking that Propecia,nothing.
Gets wet, looks likea piece of lettuce, okay?
That's not how you get girls.
I want that long,black Johnny Depp hair.
I want it just...I want a black waterfall
all over my body.
And I'll get it, too.
I'm gonna get it,I just found out.
'Cause I read recentlyin a hair journal...
...they're gonna be ableto clone hair
in less than ten years.
That's a fact.
Biotechnology.And by the way,
they're gonna be ableto genetically engineer it.
You can have any kindof hair you want.
I'm getting a horse tail, okay?
That's what I'm getting.I don't want hair.
I'm getting a horse...And by the way,
I'm starting my hairlineright here at the eyebrows.
I don't want a forehead.
Foreheads are overrated--they're just wrinkly and shiny.
It's all media hype.I'm just gonna get a horse tail.
I'm just gonna be, like...(neighs)
Every time a girl looks at you,
you just take a big sloppy biteout of a peach.
Maybe I'll just kind of
hang out on a motorcycle.
Picture this,let me paint the picture.
By the way, I'm not gonna ridethe motorcycle,
'cause I'm notinto brain injury.
Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.
It's the look, all right?
Now, check it out,say you're
a single girl, you're coming outof your favorite coffee shop,
you're sipping a frappuccino,whatever, okay?
At first I looklike a normal guy.
Why? 'Cause I'm wearinga helmet--
safety first, all right?
So you don't see the partyI got coiled up
like a cobra!
Like a cobra!
Till I pull my helmet off real slow
and just eh, eh, eh!
(British accent):Would you like to geton the back of my bike
and pretend to ride?
Mm-hmm. I havea peach hip basket
brimming with peaches.
Peaches for everybody!
Nobody has a horse tail,a fake motorcycle
and a peach hip basket-- I will.
I'm gonna make a fortunewith my hair, too,
You know what my jobis gonna be?
You got a horse tail?You're a painter.
That's what you do-- I'm gonnabe an avant-garde painter.
Let me explain.Check it out.
Hanging out.No shirt, whatever.
Baggy pants tied offwith a rope.
You know what?
Maybe no pants;maybe just rope.
I don't know, I don't know,I'm avant-garde,
I'm hanging out in my Soho loft.
I got huge vatsof white, oily paint.
And I paint stuff...
with my hair.
Just dipping the hair!I mean, with dipping... (grunts)
(European accent):I made this for you.
It's called I Love You Too Much.
I got to go. Thanks, guys.