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Hi.
I'm noted expert Michael Ian Black,
and welcome to my stand-up comedy special, and if I do say so myself,
it does look pretty special.
We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight.
I've got some jokes, some stories,
and maybe even a surprise or two,
and of course, we're gonna keep it clean.
Because even though I'm a celebrated actor, writer,
and comedian, my most important role is husband and father.
Well, I thought it might be fun to kick things off
with a music montage of puppies licking my face.
* My cold heart
* Will listen to what you say
My face, you lick my goddamn face.
The dog was supposed to lick my face.
Get me a goddamn dog that licks my face.
Somebody get this butter off my face.
I have very sensitive skin. Get this butter off my face.
* Heaven depart
Where's that next puppy? You're not a puppy.
Who are you? This is a full-grown dog.
No, I'm not interested in you licking my face.
Don't fucking snort at me.
This dog's practically dead. That's how old it is.
It's practically dead.
Okay, I'm done. I'm done.
Take them, take them.
I'm done. Take it, take it.
Somebody get me a lint roller. I feel disgusted.
Welcome Michael Ian Black!
*
Thank you.
Thanks, everybody.
Thank you so much for being a part of this.
It means the world to me.
I'm not feeling as confident as I sometimes
do when I do comedy
because I have not been doing stand-up comedy for, like,
the last year or year and a half 'cause
I've been so busy with my day job,
which is getting television shows canceled.
And you know what, you guys,
and I'm not saying this to brag, it's a job I'm pretty good at.
You know what it is,
sometimes I feel like I'm just a vessel,
you know what I mean, and,
like, God is canceling television shows through me.
Does that makes sense, you guys?
You guys, does that makes sense?
I have been on so many canceled television shows,
many of which I created, which is even worse.
I have been canceled more than flights
out of your local airport.
I have closed more shows
than Walter Kerr...
Who was a theater critic, um,
born in 1913,
wrote for the "New York Herald-Tribune."
Listen to me, you guys.
I am the only nationally touring comedian
making regular references to Walter Kerr in his act.
That is the kind of edgy shit you can expect all night.
Not even the great comedian Louis "Se-Kay"
has the cojones
to get up on a stage and open his act
with a reference to Walter motherfucking Kerr,
and that is why he is successful and I am not.
And if you think that's the last Walter Kerr reference
you're gonna hear tonight, no.
I'm on a new television show
right now called "The Jim Gaffigan Show."
It's a good show. If you haven't seen it,
it's "The Jim Gaffigan Show."
You guys know who he is, right?
He's one of the best comedians in the world,
and it's based on his life,
and he has a complicated life
'cause he's got five kids, and he looks like that,
and I am on the show.
"Which gay character do you play, Michael?"
Listen, you guys.
A lot of people assume that if I'm on a show,
I must play the gay guy 'cause
I fucked Bradley Cooper in a sport shed one time.
But when you make those kind of assumptions, frankly,
it's demeaning to me as an actor
because my range is much broader than that.
For example, on "The Jim Gaffigan Show,"
I play his wife's best friend...
Who is gay,
and the thing is, I'm not gay.
Like, I just kiss men
and pretend to have sex with men for money,
but that's not why I'm right for the part.
I'm right for the part because my character
on "The Jim Gaffigan Show" hates kids,
and I have kids,
so I know what it's like to hate kids.
I have two kids, and they're whatever.
Really, you know, I have one of each.
I mean, they're both white. I mean, I have a boy and a girl.
It's very interesting
when you have one of each because what you learn
is that sexism in the culture starts immediately.
Like, as soon as they're born,
they are subjected to sexism.
So, like, when my son was born,
'cause he was first, people would come to the house,
and they would meet him when he was a toddler or whatever,
and they'd be like, "There's your son.
What a stout young lad he is."
You know, I mean, nobody ever said,
"What a stout young lad he is," but you know what I mean.
They'd ruffle his hair a little bit, you know,
punch him in the face, and it was great.
But then they would meet my daughter,
and it was totally different.
You know, they'd come over, and they'd be like,
"There's your little princess.
What a little angel she is."
And then they would always say this one weird phrase
which you will recognize.
Inevitably, somebody would turn to my daughter
and say, "She's gonna be trouble.
"No, I can tell just by looking at her.
She is gonna be trouble."
And that is a really weird fucking thing
to say to a toddler
because, like, in their heads,
I guess they mean it as a compliment,
but what I'm hearing is, "
"she's gonna suck a lot of dicks.
"No, I can tell just by looking at her.
She's gonna be a giant fucking whore."
'Cause what else could that mean?
What other kind of trouble could they be talking about
that she's gonna get into that my son isn't?
Do they mean, like, academic trouble?
Is that what they mean?
Like, "She's gonna commit plagiarism.
"No, I can tell just by looking at her.
"She is gonna claim another student's research as her own."
Do they mean, like, the Troubles,
like, in Northern Ireland?
Like, "She's gonna join the IRA."
"And they'd be lucky to have her.
They'd be fucking lucky to have her."
No, they mean sexual trouble.
To my toddler,
they're projecting their own weird sexual shit
onto my little girl,
and it's so offensive, and it's sexist.
I mean, I have a son.
He's not gonna suck a lot of dicks?
Fuck you.
Any son of mine is gonna suck a lot of dicks.
It's how we raise our kids, you guys.
I feel very strongly about that.
Say what you want about me, I'm not a sexist.
I'm a feminist. I am a proud feminist.
It's why I let my wife work.
I think it's important.
No, what I'm saying, I have my job.
She's got her little job.
Like, we both... Well, you guys, no.
What I'm saying is, like, I'm a comedian.
She is an orthopedic surgeon,
and it's adorable.
That's a joke.
I do not let my wife work.
So, yeah, I'm married,
married now for 17 years, everybody.
Thank you.
Three different women.
Just the one,
just the same goddamn one.
How do you do it, Michael?
How do you do it?
How do you manage to keep your marriage so strong
in spite of all your personal and professional failings?
It's a great question.
Here's what I've learned
about keeping a relationship going.
In my case, like, I had to learn
how to speak my wife's language
because she only speaks in Zen riddles,
like the riddles that Zen masters
give to their disciples.
That's how my wife speaks to me.
You know, like, what is the sound of one hand clapping?
That's, like, a good example of, like, a Zen riddle.
I don't know. I don't know what the answer to that is,
and I don't want to think about it.
Here's an example of a Zen riddle
that my wife gave to me.
We're eating dinner.
We finish dinner, push back from the table.
My wife turns to me and says,
"Why did you let me eat so much?"
And when she said that,
I knew there was no good answer to that question,
because what would she have me do?
Like, as she's taking
another forkful of masked potatoes
towards her big, fucking gaping maw,
am I supposed to, like, reach my hand out
and put it on her wrist and be like,
"Sweetheart...
I think you've had enough."
I don't feel like that was the correct answer
to that particular Zen riddle,
but because I speak her language, she goes,
"Why did you let me each so much?"
I said, "You're so young and skinny."
And that is why I am still married, you guys.
We have... you know, it's a good marriage.
Is it perfect? No.
You know, I don't believe in perfect marriages.
I don't think they exist.
You know, you get these couples
who are like, "We never even fight."
I'm like, "Well, then what do you do?"
Like, 'cause I mean, what are you gonna do, talk?
You've talked about everything already.
What are we gonna talk about, your hopes and dreams?
Jesus.
We've talked about that shit 5,000 times,
but there's always something to fight about, right?
You want pancakes? Fuck you, I want French toast.
That's marriage.
And fighting sucks, right?
It sucks, but after the fight, you know what happens.
Right?
Muttering to yourself while doing household chores.
Right?
But after that,
silent treatment, right?
But after that,
couples counseling,
a lot of intense couples counseling, you guys.
So it's good, you know. It's a good marriage.
Have I ever thought about divorce?
Yeah.
Not a lot, you know what I mean?
Maybe nine times a day, you know what I mean?
That is the dirty secret about marriage.
When you're married, divorce, it's just always in your head.
You know what I mean? It's just kind of floating up there.
Like, when you're Jewish, the word "Nazi"
is always just floating in your head.
It just is, you know what I mean?
Like, when you're married, like, you've always got... you know,
you've got one arm around your spouse
and one hand on the eject button.
It's just always there,
just sort of lightly caressing the eject... you just want to...
You know, I treat the divorce button
the way I treat a clitoris.
I like to know it's there,
but I am not gonna push that button,
even though I know doing so
would give her tremendous pleasure,
and I know that we,
as a couple, we're gonna make it.
Like, I know that already. You know how I know,
because we survived building a house together.
We built a house toge... I mean, we didn't build it.
We hired ethnics to build it. You know what I mean.
When you build a house,
there are so many decisions to make, right,
and every one of those decisions
is another opportunity for you to question
why you married this fucking idiot sitting next to you,
who for some reason feels like nickel-plated doorknobs
are the better choice for the downstairs powder room
than oil-rubbed bronze doorknobs,
and incidentally, as an aside,
when we were designing this house,
and I was curating images for my vision board,
I would be looking online at pictures of houses,
and these collections of houses would be labeled online
as house porn,
and that really rubbed me the wrong way
because I'm just trying to, you know,
quietly enjoy something,
and I started noticing they were doing it for everything,
you know, just noun, porn,
all these thing that I liked.
Like, house porn and food porn
and, you know, amateur sex porn, and it was...
No, it's so offensive to me
because it, like, brings up this whole idea of,
like, guilty pleasures.
Like, we should feel bad
for the shit that we like, you know what I mean?
There's no such thing as a guilty...
There's one guilty pleasure,
and that's murder.
Murder.
It's the guiltiest pleasure of all.
There's no such thing as a guilty pleasure.
That's such a horseshit idea.
If you like something, just like it.
You don't have to feel bad.
Like, there's these people who are like,
"I watch 'The Bachelor.'
It's my guilty pleasure."
No, it's your pleasure.
Just enjoy it, even though it's a shit show,
and you're a shit person for watching it.
Nobody's judging you.
You know what I mean?
Just enjoy it,
even though it's total garbage,
and when you watch it, you're what's wrong with America.
Just enjoy it.
I don't have guilty pleasures.
Like, there's just things I like.
You know, from the outside, if you knew me...
Okay, so my one guilty pleasure
would be... my favorite song in the world
is "MMMBop" by Hanson.
Right?
That's just a great song,
my favorite song in the world. I don't feel bad about it.
The day I apologize for loving "MMMBop"
is the day I apologize for having a goddamn soul, you guys.
It's the day I apologize for the fact
that I used to masturbate to the video
they made for that song
because I thought the lead singer
was an attractive young woman
and not a 13-year-old Mormon boy,
and it's also the day I apologize for the fact
that every once in awhile,
I still masturbate to that video.
He masturbates to the boy singing "MMMBop."
He's a jokey pedophile; he's a jokey pedophile.
So we built this house,
and it's not, like, a huge house.
It's not a fancy... I mean,
you know, it's fancy compared to what you poors are used to,
but, you know, it's just a house.
You know what I mean? And we built this house,
and it's interesting when you build a house.
You realize how primal that is,
because a house,
when you build it, is kind of,
like... it's a dream that you had.
Because when you build a house,
it's, like, you imagine everything about that house.
You could envision the life
that will be lived in that house.
This house is where my family will live
and where we will quietly seethe
with resentment towards each other,
and this house is where my kids
will flee as soon
as they graduate high school
and to which they will return grudgingly on Christmas breaks,
perhaps with their boyfriends or girlfriends,
to whom I will make inappropriate remarks,
and then maybe they will come
with children of their own one day,
to whom I will make inappropriate remarks.
This is the home where my wife
and I will grow old together
and one day be physically abused
by home health care workers who...
who will beat us when we shit ourselves.
And it's funny
when you have a house like this
because you know that your kids really will leave.
This is the house they will leave from, and,
you know, when you have kids... Who has kids here?
Anybody?
No...
nobody here has kids.
When you have kids... and you will one day, some of you.
When you have kids... Do you not want kids?
Is that the problem?
Most of you don't want kids.
How many people want kids?
All right, so, like, 50-50.
The people who want kids
should rearrange yourselves,
so you're next to other people who want kids,
and that will increase your chances of having kids.
Well, when you have kids, as I do, like,
no matter how old they get, like, you know, still,
some part of you sees them as babies.
Like, that just never goes away,
and that was a special time for me
because my babies were such assholes,
you guys, both of them,
because they both had colic, and I assume you don't know
what that is because you don't have children,
so I will tell you.
Colic, it's a catchall medical term,
and all it means is, they cry all the time.
That's what it means, and so you go to the doctor,
and you go, "Doctor, my baby is crying all the time."
And the doctor will say, "Yes, yes, yes,
that's colic."
And you go, "What is that?"
And they go, "We don't know
"but please remove your baby from the office
because it is so fucking annoying,"
and it is.
It's the most annoying sound
in the world, right, that baby cry,
that horrible, piercing,
nerve-jangling, adenoidal baby cry,
just this.
For months, that shit.
The head is, like, lolling.
Limbs are flailing.
So blessed, you guys.
So blessed.
It will drive you fucking crazy.
I couldn't handle it.
I could've handled it if he just cried like an adult.
You know what I mean?
If he'd just been like,
"Fuck.
"God damn it.
"God.
"I'm sorry, bro. I'm sorry.
"Dude, I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, bro.
I'm fucking sorry, bro."
That I could've handled.
You know what he sounded like?
He sounded like Danny DeVito
as the Penguin in the Batman movies.
That's what he sounded like.
Try living with that shit.
You will go out of your fucking mind.
I'll never forget.
I had this incredible moment
with my son one night
when he was, like, four months old,
and I was holding him, you know,
and he was crying, you know, 'cause that's all he did.
It's the middle of the night, you know,
and we're the only ones awake
in the world,
and he's looking up at me, you know, and he's going...
You know.
I'm looking down at his stupid, little,
purple face,
and I remember thinking to myself, "You know what,
I'd really like to shake this baby."
And I knew I wasn't supposed
to shake the baby because my wife
and I had been to parenting class,
and in parenting class, they tell you right off the bat.
"Don't shake the baby." You go every week,
and every week they tell you the same thing.
"Don't shake the baby."
You have to watch a movie about it.
The movie's called "Don't Shake the Baby."
There's a lady in the movie who's like,
"Guess what, I shook my baby.
Its head fell off."
So after weeks and weeks
and weeks of this, you're like, "I get it.
Like, who the fuck is gonna shake their baby?"
As it turns out, me. I'm gonna shake my baby.
Not enough to do any permanent damage,
you know what I mean, just a quick buh-buh-buh-buh-buh.
Right? Just enough to startle him into silence,
just enough so he'll be like,
"Shit.
"I was acting like an asshole just then, wasn't I?"
You guys, I did not shake the baby, okay?
Thank you.
I threw the baby, and here's how that happened.
I'm holding him right,
and, you know, he's crying.
He's going... You know, and I'm thinking,
"My God, I know what they said in class,
"but I really feel like this baby
needs a good, old-fashioned shaking."
And then the rational part of my brain,
what's left of it, is going, "No, no, no.
"You can't shake the baby 'cause
its head'll fall off, and your wife will get mad."
I'm like, "I know,
but I'm so frustrated. I got to do something."
And the baby's going, "I'll get you, Batman."
And I'm just like, "Jesus."
And then before I know it, I just kind of go like this.
You guys, the couch was right here, okay?
He landed on the couch. He was fine.
But afterwards,
it was definitely a moment
where I'm thinking to myself,
"Did I just throw a baby?"
And I look over to the couch,
and there is a baby on the couch,
and I am, like, 90% sure
it's the same baby I was just holding.
Listen to me, you guys.
I know you people from Brooklyn, you're never gonna have kids.
I get it.
But those of you who are gonna have kids,
take my advice, right?
Never, never, never shake your baby, right,
and never, never, never throw your baby,
but I will say this.
After I threw that baby,
that baby shut the fuck up.
Just saying.
You draw your own conclusions, guys.
My son... that's the one I threw...
He got his revenge on me a few years later.
He was, like, seven or eight years old. You know what I mean?
He was, like... he was seven or eight years old.
You know what I mean?
"Do you mean, like, he was seven or eight years old?"
That is what I mean.
He was, like, seven, eight years old,
summer vacation,
and he decrees one day
that he will be going to the local amusement park
and decrees further that he no longer rides the baby rides...
He only rides the big rides...
And further decrees that I will be the one
to shepherd him to the local amusement park.
And I say, "Okay, young squire.
"That sounds like a reasonable idea.
"I will shepherd you
"to the local amusement park, and we'll have, like,
a father-son thing, and it'll be great."
So we go to the amusement park.
I take him to the Tilt-a-Whirl,
the gentlest of the big rides.
The Tilt-a-Whirl so named
because the tilt portion of the attraction
is because everything is on a little bit of an angle,
and so when you first get onto the Tilt-a-Whirl,
and you pull this safety bar down,
the car kind of goes like this a little bit,
and when that happened, I had a realization,
and the realization was this.
"Aha, I've just made a mistake
"because I already feel nauseous,
and the ride has not yet begun,"
and then the whirl portion of the attraction begins,
and I have a further realization, which is,
"I may not survive this."
You guys, there is so much tilting,
so very much whirling,
and then my son finds the platter
in the middle of the car that you do this to,
adding spinning to the tilting and the whirling,
and it's atrocious.
It's the worst thing that's ever happened to me,
and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
All I can do is hang onto the safety bar
and pretend that I am in a photograph from the 1800s
and that if I move, it will ruin the exposure,
so for the duration of the ride,
I'm sitting there like this.
The ride lasts for 45 minutes.
When it is over, I pull the safety bar up,
I turn to my son, and I say, "Are you okay?"
And he says, "Can we go on it again?"
And I say, "Fuck you."
I did not say "fuck you."
I was thinking it. I did not say it.
Do you know what I said?
I said, "Yes, we can." Why?
Because a father cannot show weakness in front of his son.
Why? Because the second he does,
the son kills the father and fucks the wife.
That's Oedipus, you guys.
If the ancient Greeks taught us anything,
they taught us that.
So I say, "Yes, we can,"
and I take his hateful little hand in mine,
and we exit the Tilt-a-Whirl,
and we go around
towards the entrance of the Tilt-a-Whirl,
and as we're walking,
I start to feel all the blood drain from my head,
and I realize I need to sit down now,
and I'm lowering myself to the ground,
and I am not gonna show weakness in front
of this little fucking bastard,
so I'm just going, "Hey, buddy,
"Dad's gonna take a knee.
"Dad's gonna take a knee, buddy. You having a good time?
Yeah, buddy, having a good, good time; good, good time."
And I'm calling him "buddy" not so much to reassure him,
but because in that moment, I do not know his name,
and he's going,
"Come on, I want to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl.
I want to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl."
I'm like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, buddy, we're gonna go
on the Tilt-a-Whirl," and I start to stand up,
and as I do, I feel my body break out
into that pre-faint sweat
where moisture just explodes out of every pore
that you have, and I realize standing
is not an option,
and sitting will no longer do either.
I need to lay down.
I need to lay down
on the amusement park asphalt.
Fortunately, I find a soft bed
of used Band-Aids to lay in,
and I'm laying there for quite awhile
in the drippings of old snow cones
and the clotted remains of funnel cakes
from days gone by
and in the dried-up vomit
of other middle-aged men
who did not know their limits,
and I'm laying there for quite awhile,
and then I see the inquisitive little face
of my son kind of peer over and look down at me,
and he goes, "Dad, I just lost a lot of respect for you,"
And then he walked away, and I never saw him again.
True story.
That's a true story, you guys.
It was kind of a dickish move on his part, I thought,
when he did that.
But I have been known
to engage in dickish behavior myself.
Sometimes I feel like people deserve it,
and I will give you an example of somebody
who I feel like deserves my dickish behavior.
I have to rent cars sometimes.
Okay, when I rent a car,
I don't want to have a conversation
with the rental car clerk,
not because I'm a dick,
but because I've just been on an airplane.
I'm tired. I'm dehydrated.
I've been holding in farts for hours.
Right? I just want to get my keys.
I want to go.
But in their training, I guess,
the rental car companies believe
that customers enjoy it
when the clerks engage them in conversation,
and they keep asking me the same annoying question.
As I'm filling out my paperwork
or getting my keys, they will turn to me and say,
"So what brings you to town today?"
I'm like, "Ew, fuck you. You don't get to ask me that.
"I'm allowed to be here.
That's all you need to know. I'm allowed to be here."
Look, I'm Jewish, okay.
As a Jew, when I hear,
"So what brings you to town today,"
that sounds suspiciously like,
"May I see your papers?
"No, no, Mr. Black, I'm sure your papers
"are perfectly in order, but...
"I really must insist
that you show me your papers, Mr. Black."
You guys, my favorite thing
to do in the world right now is the German rental car clerk...
Fastidiously checking out his nails.
"Would you like a GPS, Mr. Black,
"so we may keep track of your movements?
It's such an annoying question.
"What brings you to town today?"
So now I have a standard response.
They go, "So what brings you to town today?"
I say, "Your mom," and that ends the conversation.
It ends the conversation.
Is it a dick move? Sure, it is.
I think they deserve it.
Here's somebody
who absolutely did not deserve my dickish behavior.
I'm at a party.
I'm kind of by myself at the party.
I don't really know anybody.
I see a woman standing by herself.
She's pregnant. She's obviously pregnant,
and I think, "I'll go talk to the pregnant lady,"
so I go over, and we have the pregnant lady conversation.
"You're pregnant. When do you do?
You have a name picked out?"
You know, like, that conversation.
Then, at a certain point, I go,
"Can I put my hand on your tummy?"
And she goes, "Sure," so I put my hand on her tummy.
And then just to be a dick,
I go, "I don't think your baby's gonna make it."
She hated that, you guys.
I mean, she really hated that.
She was like, "Why would you say that?"
I'm like, "No, no, no. I'm just being a dick,
"you know, like, for comedy.
You know, like, 'I don't think your baby's gonna make it.'"
You know?
She's like, "Why would you make a joke
about the life of my baby?"
And I thought that was a very good question.
I did not have a good answer to that question,
so I just said, "You're so young and skinny,"
and that did not work at all on her.
Don't do it; never say
"I don't think your baby's gonna make it."
That's terrible.
Say "I think your baby is going to make it."
Much better.
People get very upset on the subject of dead babies,
which is the right attitude to have, by the way,
and it's why I would like to take the next few minutes
to speak with you about abortion.
Now, I know a lot of you are probably like,
"Hey, Michael, I did not come to the comedy show
"to hear about abortion.
"I came to the comedy show
to get away from abortion."
Understood.
But I think abortion is a very fertile topic for comedy.
Now, on the subject of abortion,
probably some of you looking at me,
thinking to yourselves, "Michael Ian Black,
he's probably some pro-choice liberal asshole."
Well, let me tell you guys something.
I am a pro-choice liberal asshole.
Sure.
And we liberals, we believe in three things:
giving condoms to children;
giving needles to everybody;
and the right to kill babies
whenever we want, however we want,
except with guns because guns are bad.
That's just Liberalism 101, you guys.
Now, on the other side, you have your pro-life people,
and I actually have a lot of sympathy
for the pro-life position
because they believe that as soon
as an egg is fertilized,
that that is a baby, right,
like, as soon as an egg is fertilized...
With jizz, right?
Am I right, you guys? You know I'm right.
You know it's jizz. Come on, up top.
You know it's jizz. Up top.
You know it's jizz.
Fucking jizz baby, fucking jizz baby.
jizz baby, jizz baby, jizz baby, jizz baby.
Fucking, jizz babies left and right.
Everybody's a jizz baby.
You're a jizz baby.
You're a jizz ba...
Well, you know, if you believe that as soon
as an egg is fertilized, it's a baby,
then of course you can't kill a baby, right,
not in any circumstances,
not in the case of rape or incest,
not even if the parents have lip piercings.
You can't kill that baby.
You can't even kill that baby if you knew for a fact
that baby was gonna grow up to be a philosophy major.
You cannot kill that baby.
You can't even kill that baby if the baby pronounces the word
hilarious like this, "hi-lair-ious."
You cannot kill the baby.
Now, I don't want to kill anybody,
right, not even redheads,
who I believe are witches and warlocks.
So what do you do, right?
What is the solution?
In this country, we believe... by a small majority,
but a majority nonetheless... That abortion should be legal.
Right? But there has to be a cutoff.
There has to be a point where you say,
"Well, no, you cannot abort this baby anymore."
The cutoff that we have agreed on is called "viability,"
which is defined as the ability of the fetus
to live outside the womb without intervention,
and that is a terrible way
to determine when abortion should be legal
because I know 25-year-olds
who cannot live outside the womb without intervention,
and if you think about it, no baby can live
outside the womb without intervention, right?
Like, take a baby, right?
Take a fresh baby, put it on the floor,
walk away.
What's gonna happen to that baby?
That baby gonna die,
and, you know, you want to intervene, intervene.
Give the baby a Big Gulp, put it next to the baby.
You could take the straw wrapper off for the baby,
give the baby a pizza, not even a shitty pizza, like,
a nice wood-fired pizza
loaded with fresh mozzarella
and gabagool and prosciutto,
and you put it next to the baby.
You could put the pizza on top of the baby.
The baby's not gonna drink the Big Gulp.
Baby is not gonna eat the pizza.
That baby gonna die.
The pizza is more viable than the baby.
I don't know what the solution is here, you guys.
Obviously, I don't think people should be having sex,
but if you really want to cut down on abortions,
and I think everybody agrees.
We would like to have less abortions.
Fewer abortions, that's the correct term.
English majors? English majors?
If you really want to have fewer abortions,
you have to reduce unwanted pregnancies.
How do you do that? I will tell you.
Ladies...
If you just keep it
to BJs and butt stuff,
and that's all you do,
you will cut your risk of pregnancy in half.
That's just science, you guys.
I am very lucky
that I never had to deal with an unwanted pregnancy,
because when I was single, I was always very careful
not to give my partner
my correct contact information...
Which is not to say
I have not had terrible things happen to me.
I have.
I will tell you the latest.
This happened nary a few months ago.
We're shooting the "The Jim Gaffigan Show"...
Which, by the way,
Wednesdays, 10:00, TV Land.
I need this.
So we're shooting the "The Jim Gaffigan Show."
We shoot in New York City,
and as we're finishing one night,
it's, like, 2:00 in the morning.
I'm going to leave New York City
and drive to my home in the wilds of Connecticut,
where I live,
and as I'm leaving the city,
I see police sirens in front of me,
okay, at an intersection,
and there's a policeman in the intersection,
looking at me through my windshield
and going like this. Right?
And I think to myself, " this policeman wants a handjob."
And...
You know, I'm thinking to myself, "Well, you know what,
I was here for 9/11. Why not?"
Right? I pull the car over...
You give something back to the boys in blue, am I right?
Sure, you do.
Get out the Lubriderm, you know what I mean?
I'm getting all set.
Comes over, turns out that's not what he wants.
It's a sobriety check.
Not a problem, I haven't been drinking.
I give him my license, he goes back to his car,
and then he does not return.
For many minutes, he does not come back,
so many minutes that I Google
"what happens if the policeman
does not come back after he takes your license."
Then, I see in my side-view mirror
the policeman approaching the car,
but now he is accompanied
by several other officers of the law,
and I think to myself, "Shit.
These guys are all gonna want autographs."
He comes up to the window.
He goes, "Would you mind stepping out of the vehicle."
And now, for the first time, I'm getting nervous,
and I go, "Do I have to?"
Thinking the answer very well might be,
"Well, no, you don't have to.
"It's just that me and the guys
"have all these homemade chocolate chip cookies,
"and frankly, we can't eat them all.
"Would you help us eat the chocolate chip cookies, Mike?"
That is not what he says at all.
He says, "Yes, you have to.
You're under arrest." I know.
That gasp, what you just did, that's what I did.
I went like that.
I think I fanned myself a little bit, like...
You know, like, "Ooh, officer.
You've just given me the vapors, officer."
I'm like, "What the fuck is going on?"
I slowly get out of the car,
and my first thought of course is, "I should run."
I should just fucking run as far and as...
Like, leave my car, leave my family,
get plastic surgery, change my name,
like how I became Michael Ian Black
in the first place,
but I do not do that.
Instead, I ask, as you do
in that situation,
"Officer, why am I under arrest?"
As it turns out,
in 2007,
I had a lapse
in my auto insurance, a lapse,
a brief interregnum.
Somebody Google "interregnum."
I want to know if that's a word.
Do you have a phone on you? Google "interregnum."
I want to know if I'm using that correctly.
All right, while you're looking it up,
I had a lapse in my auto insurance,
resulting in a fine
which did not get paid,
resulting in a suspension
of my New York state driving privileges,
so for the last X number of years,
I've been driving around in New York state,
a state I do not live in,
on a suspended license,
and now I'm going to jail.
Now, whose fault is this?
Who can say?
To know that, we'd somehow have to be able to determine
who in my household
is responsible for paying the auto insurance.
Is it my wife? Yes, it is.
Is it her fault?
Who can say?
The point is,
I'm now being arrested on a New York City street.
Do you know what the statute of limitations is
in New York state for first-degree manslaughter?
I know because I looked it up after the fact.
Five years.
Had I killed somebody in 2007
and yet maintained
continual auto insurance coverage
and gone through that same sobriety check,
and the officer had said, "How you doing tonight?"
and I said, "I killed somebody in 2007,"
legally, he would've had
to have responded by saying, "Have a good night."
But because I had an interregnum...
I'm right.
An interval or pause.
An interval or pause, interregnum.
Because I had an interregnum in my auto insurance,
I'm now being fucking handcuffed
in the middle of New York City,
and it is bullshit.
It is such bullshit, and I do not hold back.
I tell those officers exactly what I'm thinking.
I look them in the eye, and I go, "This is absurd."
And you better believe they backed the fuck up
when I dropped that truth bomb.
They put me in the paddy wagon, right?
They put me in the van. It's a van.
They put me in the van,
and there's other cops to, you know,
like, guard me or whatever,
and what really surprised me about it was how nice they were,
'cause you think, like, NYPD, like,
they're just gonna be cocks, and they weren't.
They were super nice and, like, chatty.
They didn't know who I was or anything like that.
They asked me questions.
They answered my questions, and I couldn't figure it out.
Then, like, half an hour into the process, I realized.
I'm like, " this is white privilege."
Not bad, you know what I mean?
Like, I'm still getting fucked by the system,
but the system is using lube.
I'll take it.
But listen to me, crackers, and listen good.
You better enjoy it while you can because pretty soon,
white people are gonna be the minority in this country,
right?
What's gonna happen when white people
are in the minority?
Is the food gonna get spicier?
It's already pretty spicy, you guys.
So I'm going to jail,
and I'd never been to jail. You know what I mean?
Like, you reach a certain age, a certain point in your life
where you think, at least subconsciously,
like, you're never gonna go to jail.
Like, I'm 26 years old, and at this point in my life...
Shut up, you guys.
I just thought, you know,
I'm never going to jail, you know.
Who's been to jail here before?
Anybody?
[applause A lot of you.
What have you been to jail for, ma'am?
Public intoxication, classic. Classic.
What were you doing that led the officers to be like,
"This bitch has to get locked up"?
You left the party, yeah, that's... it never ends well
when it begins with "I left the party."
You left the party.
They followed you to a Waffle House.
That's it.
They were just like, "These chicks
are drunk at the Waffle House."
Anybody else? Can you beat public intoxication, anybody?
- Yeah. - Yeah. Yeah?
What did you do?
Okay, so...
I just want to sum up
the events of the last few seconds.
Can anybody beat public intoxication?
"Hell, yeah!
"You see this teardrop on my face?
"I got it for running a red light
on my bicycle."
Anybody else? Can anybody beat that?
You can. You can beat it.
Public mischief.
What kind of mischievousness were you up to, friend?
Is this doesn't involve a jack-o'-lantern,
I'm gonna be disappointed.
It happened in Canada.
That savage country, yeah.
- You were a missionary? - A Mormon missionary.
A Mormon missionary.
Okay.
You were a Mormon missionary in Canada.
If you didn't hear, he was a Mormon missionary in Canada.
Another missionary was trying to run away,
so you stopped his plane.
How did you stop the plane?
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
Number one answer on the board,
"I told the airline
there was a bomb on the plane."
The charge was public mischief.
This is pre-2001.
What year was this?
1987, yeah.
That's just what kids... You guys don't remember,
but that's what kids did back then.
We were all calling in bomb threats back then.
What kind of trouble did you get in?
And what happened to the Mormon who ran away?
Okay, now I'm gonna ask a question.
Don't answer.
But this is an audience question.
Show of hands,
how many people believe this man is still a Mormon?
Nobody.
Are you still a Mormon? No.
Okay, we're all correct.
Well, I can't beat that.
I'd never been to jail, right,
but I felt like I knew what to do,
you know, 'cause I'd seen movies.
I'd seen TV shows. I know when you go to jail,
like, you fucking act like you belong in jail.
You know what I mean?
I fucking strutted in there.
I was like, "Hey, fellas. I'm home."
You know.
I went up to the biggest fucking guy
in that jail, I looked him in the eye,
and I was like, "Just... I will do whatever you want.
"I'll suck your dick. I don't care,
just don't let them murder me."
There were some surprising things about the process.
The booking process was not what I expected because...
Well, the first thing that surprised me
was the fingerprinting procedure
'cause I thought, like,
fingerprinting... I thought it was just straightforward.
You know, it was like... No.
It is so much more homoerotic
than I ever would've imagined
because the arresting officer
has to make sure that he gets a good print,
so he gently guides your fingers...
From the ink pad onto the scanner.
At a certain point, he was like, "Your fingers are so dirty."
I was like, "Is this standard operating procedure?"
He's like, "Yeah. Don't tell me how to fucking do my job.
This is how you do it."
They do a retina scan.
I didn't even know we had that technology.
You know, it's literally, you know,
they take a laser picture of your eyeball.
I took off my pants.
I took off my underpants.
I fucking bent over and squatted,
spread my butt cheeks, coughed.
The officer's like, "Why are you doing that?"
I was like,
"I don't have to do that?"
He's like, "No.
"Like, you just had a suspended license.
I don't need to know what's up your asshole."
I was like, "So what should I do
with this little baggie filled with heroin?"
He was like, "Just put it back." I'm like, "All right," so...
22 hours.
22 hours I was in jail
for this shit,
literally longer
than anybody has ever been in jail before.
Were you more than 22 hours?
I got the guy who sent in a bomb threat
to an airline beat.
And when you're looking at the kind of time
I was looking at, ese,
you know, you just...
You got a choice to make.
You can either do your time,
or you can let your time do you.
I did my time.
I got my GED while I was in there.
I started mentoring youth
who were at risk
for having an interregnum in their auto insurance.
So 22 hours, they let me out.
I have to go back to the precinct
to pick up my car,
and as I'm picking up the car,
I see the guys who arrested me
now showing up to work on the following day,
and they're like, " you're just getting out now?"
I'm like, "Yeah, I'm just getting out now.
They're like, " 'cause we had a whole day.
"Like, we went canoeing,
and we did spin art, you know."
Yeah, they did spin art, you guys.
That's right. That's what they said.
And it occurs to me as I'm talking to them
that nothing in my legal status
has changed from the moment
I got arrested for driving this car until now,
when I'm about to drive this car again,
and they very well could arrest me
if I try to drive this car again,
and I go, "Are you gonna arrest me
if I try to drive this car again?"
And they go, "We don't know."
And so I get into the car,
and as I'm about to leave,
the one guy goes, "Hey, hey, hey, let me ask you something."
I go, "What?" He goes, "How was jail?"
I'm like, "How was jail?
"It was terrible. It was awful.
"You know, the food was terrible.
"There was, like, no place to sit.
It was crowded. It was hot. It was boring."
And he looks at the other cop, and he goes, "Well, well, well,
looks like we got ourselves a regular Walter Kerr here."
Thank you so much!
I really appreciate it.
Thank you guys so much.
Thank you.
My name is Michael Ian Black.
*
Good night.
Yeah, I scared you, didn't I?
Come on, what did I fucking say about these dogs?
Now he's stepping in it. He's stepping in it.
Now you're gonna have his paws on me?
This is such a stupid idea.
I hate myself. I hate my life.
I wish I was dead.
No, it's too late. It's too late.
It's too late.