Roberts, Winstead, Kataoka
This is Two DrinkMinimum, and I'm really
excited to be workingwith a band again.
It's been a long time, but Iused to be in a band myself.
I don't know if you knew that.
We were pretty good, too.
I mean, not asgood as these guys,
but we did have one thingthat these guys don't have.
But I'm going tocorrect that right now,
because I boughtthem all a present.
And I think this is reallygoing to bring back the old days
for me, and give us that teamfeeling here on the show.
So why don't you guysput your presents on,
and I'll introduce the fellows.
On base, Jack of all trades andordained minister Jim Dillman.
Let's hear it for Jim.
On the next Hard Copy.
He is an ordainedminister who strung
more than his guitar strings.
And next on guitar,guitar man Eric Porter.
Let's hear it.
Now, uh-- Eric's bio saysthat he was a music director
for several prisonmusicals, including
Guys and Guys and Mr. Saigon.
So-- then, next wehave Ralph Carney
King of the New Wave Horn.
Ralph, could you holdup the new wave horn?
That the new wave horn.
Unlike a lot ofother monarchies,
King of the New Wave Horn doessay carry with it a lot of duty
and responsibility, in additionto quite a bit of power.
And speaking of power,musical director
and bandleader anddrummer Chris Butler.
Let's hear it for Chris.
Chris, uh-- Chris is the editorof Guitar World Magazine,
and I think I actuallysaw Star Trek where they
encountered a shipfrom Guitar World.
That could have been at Hee Haw.
Anyway, but probably themost important reason,
you know, that we uh--we like to have a band,
and one look atthese guys and you
can tell it's prettyobvious, and that
is mega-bitching metalchicks backstage.
So-- thank you,folks, for coming.
We've got to stop this '70sfashion thing from happening.
It's making me want to puke.
Who organized this call toarms with the bell bottoms?
I ask you, it's likethe biggest nightmare.
Obviously, whoeverdecided this was
a good idea never hadtheir bell bottoms
caught in their bikechain the first time.
Because there was nothing moremortifying than having to drag
your bike home on yourpants for six blocks.
Because, like, isn't fashion abig enough nightmare as it is?
I mean, women areso sucked into it.
We're forced to see it.
I mean, we have these magazines.
You may never buy Cosmo,but it's in your face
because you haveto buy groceries.
And there's thatcover staring at you.
What you don't see is the polethat's been air-brushed out
of her butt, becauseit's not her real butt.
It's some computerizedscrew-on butt product
that Dow or somebodycame up with.
She doesn't look like her, andwe're expected to forget it.
It's like a nightmare.
I can't do it.
And Cindy Crawford with thatmole-- what is that about?
This wandering mole of hers.
It's here one month,and it's here--
it's like this mole hasits own solar system.
And stop letting her sing.
So bitter about her singing.
You're pretty, that's all.
Because that's whatit is, you know.
Your mother putsthis into your head.
You know, honey.You've got to look good.
Just look good andset a beautiful table.
It's all my motherever says to me.
Make sure you seta beautiful table.
My mother is soclueless to reality.
She's much older.
She's 72 years old, andshe's never had it together.
This is a woman that used tothrow out traveler's checks
after vacation because shethought they were void.
She gets all of herinformation from Rush Limbaugh.
Oh, that's great.
I'll never forgetat Thanksgiving,
my mother was havingthis heated debate,
and you know how parents are.
They don't really know a lot,but they like have this opinion
that's strong, you just kind ofbelieve them for half a second?
So we're fighting aboutthe banking scandal.
My mother's poundingher fists on the table,
going-- "I don't thinkthe tax payers should
have to pay for the S&L bailout.
I think the government should!"
Yeah, you've got your thumb onthe pulse of what's going on,
Stick to Christmas decorating.
It's what you're good at.
My mother lives for Christmas.
This is her life, my mother.
She goes crazy.
Did your mother do this?
She decorateseverything in the house,
with the Santa Claustoilet seat cover
and the "Ho Ho" toilet paper?
Ho ho for your ho-ho.
I think that's adorable.
But here's the weird part.
The first day of advent, shesets up the manger scene.
And she sets out all ofthe pieces of the manger,
except for the baby Jesus.
She hides the baby Jesussomewhere in our home.
And at midnight, December 24begins the hunt for Jesus.
And we dig apart my parents'house kicking and screaming,
actually forked my sisterin the butt to find him.
Because we desperatelywant to win the prize.
Do you know what the prize is?
You get to put the babyJesus in the manger!
And it's desperate that weget him situated as quick
as possible, becauseuntil he is in the manger,
we cannot eat the babyJesus birthday cake.
My mother has thesame cake every year.
It's an angel food cake withCool Whip frosting and M&Ms.
I'm sure he's thrilled.
And then, she scurriesaround the house
to find as many candles aspossible-- as close to 2000--
and lights them.
We have to wait 10 minutes toblow them out for that never
happening occurrencewhere Jesus will actually
come himself and blow them out.
Now, I don't care howreligious you are.
When you're a grown adultstanding in a semicircle
around a coffee table andthere's a cake with lit candles
on it with preservatives andmelted wax, and you're singing,
"Happy birthday, dear Jesus--"You can't help but crack up.
And this is when mymother has a cocktail.
My mother is oneof these people,
she doesn't really drink.
She buys that wine ina box with the spigot.
It's that pink wine that lookslike watered-down Pepto Bismol.
And she has one glassof wine and she snaps.
She looks at us like she'snever seen us before.
Like all of asudden, her family's
been replaced by KGB agents.
She walks to the livingroom and says, "You know,
someone's been rearrangingthe ornaments on my tree."
Why don't you put your underwearon the inside of your clothes