Sunday, August 31, 2014

If I was a Comedian Onstage Doing Stand-up, This is What I’d do Today.

To read a previous bit in this series, click here.


I’m a heathen.  Are there any other heathens here tonight?  Wow, a lot of heathens.  I was raised Presbyterian.  My moms says I should go to church for the community aspect.  So people will be there for me if someone close to me dies or something, but I say if people want to help, they’ll do it whether I go to church or not, and if they don’t I don’t want to eat their fucking casserole anyway.

What?  What’d I say?  Jeez, I didn’t know religion was such a touchy subject.  I guess I didn’t get that memo.  I feel like you guys are against me now.  Who would have thought insulting a mob of people could go wrong somehow?

I feel like the guy in the old west that the posse was after.

“Zeke, the posse’s here.  They got us surrounded!”

Zeke: Don’t worry, Earl.  I’ll take care of this. 

Zeke walks outside.

Zeke: (Yelling) Hey!  You guys are all assholes!  What?  Hey, why is everybody shooting at me?


It reminds me of this thing that happened the other day.  I was at my day job because, for some reason my stand-up career isn’t paying the bills, and my boss comes up and starts yelling at me.  I can’t remember what it was about.  Like, maybe I left a machine on, or I left someone in the machine, or I let the machine eat someone.  I can’t remember.  But anyway my boss was really mad at me, so I’m like, “Wait a second.  Are you hitting on me?”

This brought an immediate halt to the string of invectives he was screaming at me.  I didn’t want him to have time to think of a response, so I said, “Listen.  I’m flattered, really, but I’m not into quote unquote “people.”

Naturally, my boss was pretty stunned.  He had this quizzical look on his face, and it was pretty easy then to shift the topic of conversation because he was like, “Wait.  What?”

I knew I had him then.  I said, “You know how some women talk about giving up their flower?  Well, it turns out they are actually just talking about their gross vaginas. 

I, on the other hand, enjoy the company of actual flowers.  They make my penis smell all rosy.  Unless of course they’re violets, in which case they make it smell violet-y.  

At this point, my boss completely forgot why he was yelling at me.

(To audience)

You know, I don’t get you people.  You act like you’ve never heard a guy talking about having sex with flowers or something.  What’s the big deal?  Did I stumble into a convention of florists? 

What the fuck is wrong with fucking flowers?  Hey, that sounds like a pretty good chant.


(Leading chant)  I say flower, you say fucker.  Flower!








All the florists now: We don’t fucking need no fucking flower fuckers!


We don’t fucking need no fucking flower fuckers!

Thank you!  I love you all.  I’m off flowers.  I’m into crowds now.  (thrusting hips)  That’s for this side.  (another hip thrust)  That’s for all of you in the middle area.  (again)  That’s an extra one for you in the brown shirt.  (Pivot and thrust left)  That one’s for the rest of you.  Good night, everybody!


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