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!"