I'll never forgetthe first time I saw my taint.
I was 13 years old,
with my mother'shand mirror,
legs spread,gazing at my treasure.
Nestled like an islandbetween two black holes.
[laughter and whooping]
Pretty soon, pinky finger
decided to be a castawayon Taint island!
But before he couldget off the island,
my mother walked in on me.
She was horrified,annoyed, livid,
and most of all, jealous.
She ripped the mirror awayfrom me and screamed,
"I don't ever wanna see youplaying with your taint again!"
And I didn't for 42 years.
Four taint-free decades
passed me by.
My taint was nothingbut a ghost down there.
After my mother died...[laughter]
I had to clean outher house.
The first thing I foundwas that hand mirror.
I missed my mom,
but now I missedmy taint even more.
I closed the doorto her bedroom,
and positioned myselfon the bed.
I was afraidof what I might see.
Would my taintstill look the same?
Or would it lookas old as my face?
I put the mirror betweenmy legs and took a deep breath.
There it was.
It looked exactly the same.
A piece of skin stretchedbetween my anus and vagina.
See? That's what it is.Mm-hmm.
I started laughing,and crying, and shouting,
"I hope you'rewatching, mother!
"I'm playing with my taint!
And you can't doanything about it
because you're dead!"
My taint wasthe opposite of dead.
It was resurrected.
My taint is tiny.
My taint is special.
But most of all,my taint...
is my taint.
[cheers and applause]