Chad Daniels: Dad Chaniels (2019) - full transcript

Guys, I'm telling you,
this is it.

This is, this is...
I've tried everything, okay?

This is my shining moment
as a father for you.

I've tried wrapping up
a pancake like a burrito

with syrup up on it,
but that gets way too messy.

I've tried taking a bite
of a pancake.

Than just pouring syrup into my
mouth to get that right ratio.

That has not worked.

What I have found works
the best is you cut the center

out of the pancake, right?
You remove the center.

Then you pour syrup
into the center.



So that's gonna soak up that
syrup right in the middle,

and that's gonna be the best
part of the pancake.

Plus, what you've done
without even knowing it,

- is you've saved
the middle of the pancake...
- Uh, Dad?

- That's the greatest bite
in pancake history.
- Dad?

Dad, don't you have
to go to a show?

Figure out the tip.
Who's gonna do it?

I got it,
I got it.

Because I know for every $10,
you leave a $2 bill.

So this is $30,
so that's three $2 bills.

That's six money.

That's perfect, man.
That's actually a great way

to think about it.
Way to go.

Dad, don't forget
your passport.



All right, we gotta move.
Let's go.

Ladies
and gentlemen,

Chad Daniels!

Hi, everyone!

Hello! Hi!

I'm glad you're here.

This is, uh,
this is gonna be okay.

I want you to know that I know

that I don't look like
you thought I would.

Take it in.

I realize that.

My kids remind me
that I've gotten older

every day "comma" every day.

I dropped my son off
one time and he goes,

"God, you've aged
like a president."

And then my daughter goes:
"I was thinking guacamole."

So, you know, they're pretty
cool, right? Yeah, right.

I grew a beard, that can
make a guy look older.

But I grew a beard
for two reasons, number one...

Beards are like
sweatpants for your face.

Doesn't matter how chubby you're
getting when you're wearing one.

Man, I grew a beard
for a whole year.

And then shaved
it to the skin.

What an asshole.
Who does that?

I mean, just in one thing.

Dee, dee-dee,
dee-dee, dee-dee.

I looked in the mirror
and I was, like...
No-no-no-no-no-no-no!

It was crazy.
What was I doing?

Just sat in my bathroom
all night going, "Ahh!"

Trying to push hair
out of my face.

But that's just
how you hurt your back.

The other reason
I grew a beard

is 'cause my 18-year-old
son challenged me

to a beard growing contest.

And, uh, he lost
because he is 18.

You ever seen
an 18-year-old's beard?

Oh, my God,
they're so gross.

It's like a Daddy Long Legs
just crawling out feet first.

Like a whisker up here
and a whisker over here.

I have a grandmother
that could beat this kid

in a beard growing contest.

Using only moles.

I think my son challenged me
to a beard growing contest

'cause pubic hair grew in
on other parts of his body,

and that grew in full.

'Cause that is how
pubic hair works.

Nobody has patchy pubes.

Let me rephrase that.
I don't think anybody
has patchy pubes.

Some of you shut down
on that one, you're, like,

"Hey, buddy, right here!"

What are you doing
out of the house?

Just stay home and fix your
dick mange or whatever it's...

It's probably not
called that, but...

That's what
I'm gonna call it.

I have never seen pubic hair
on my son's body,

but I have for sure
seen it shaved off

of his body
onto my toilet seat.

You know where
my toilet seat is?

It's in my bathroom.
That's an easy one.

Everyone should've got that.

Do you know where
my bathroom is?

That is in my bedroom.

So that means he walked
through my bedroom...

And he's not allowed in there.

Because clothes go missing
and pillows get moved.

And I don't trust that.

A crooked pillow is a mystery
I don't wanna solve.

So that goes
in the garbage immediately.

I just picture him
straddling my toilet,

and I know, I know
he straddled it.

'Cause there are only
pubes on the back half
of the toilet seat.

If you have a better
theory, I'll listen,

but there isn't one,
that's the only way...

'Cause I know he wasn't
using painter's tape

and shit to, like,
straighten it out.

"Hold on, it's not even yet.

Let me get a laser level,
I got it."

Just over my toilet.

Like he's making a pair
of UGG boots.

Right, walking out
of my bathroom like,

"Fuck it, my dad'll
clean it up!"

"I'm 18, I don't try!"

Or, you know,
whatever kids say

when you're not around.

The main problem I have with
these pubes on the toilet

is that during this story,
my kids live with me
Sunday to Wednesday.

They live with their mother
Wednesday to Sunday.

And he shaved his pubes
Wednesday before he went
to school.

That means he was not going
to be home for four days.

So I called the cell phone
when he was at school

to leave a message,
but he answered

'cause he's not
a good student.

And I said, "Hey, man,
found some pubes."

And he said, "Where?"

Which leads me to believe...

I have not found
all the pubes.

"What do you mean where?"

Why are there options
to this conversation?

Am I going to happen upon more
pubes later this afternoon?

Boy, I sure hope not.

'Cause I taught him how to prank
and I know he's real good at it.

I haven't checked,
but I bet you

there are pubes in my
sleeping bag right now.

'Cause that's a hard ass burn.

Nobody naps when
they're camping.

The first time you get in that
bag, the food is in the tree

and the fire's out
and you're, like,

"Oh, I can't wait to get some...
Oh, those are pubes."

You got me.

So I said, "Hey, man, why'd you
shave the pubes at my house?"

And he goes, "'Cause Mom's
not there to yell at me."

And I said, "That is
the dumbest answer
I've ever heard.

So get back here after school
and clean these up."

And he said, "I'm sorry,
Father, but according

to the custody agreement,
I'm at Mother's now."

And I know that was meant
to make me mad, but it didn't.

I was thrilled he used
two three-syllable words
in one sentence.

'Cause I have watched him walk
into a wall during the daytime.

Natural sunlight,
guiding his way

and just still... thunk.

So I waited till Sunday,
and he came to my house,

and I said, "Hey, man,
come give me a hug."

And he came to give me a hug
like this and when he did,

I spun him around and I
put him in a full nelson.

And I walked him up the stairs,

and I walked him
into my bathroom.

And I bent him over
the toilet like I was rubbing

a dog's nose in its own shit.

'Cause the pubes
were still there.

They're not mine.
I'm not cleaning those off.

I walked downstairs
in my own home

for four straight days
to use the bathroom

'cause I am committed
to parenting.

So... So I have him
bent over the toilet,

and he starts making
the weirdest noises.

He started going...
like that.

And I panicked a little bit
'cause when he was two,
he had asthma.

When he was seven, it went
away because of a nebulizer.

And I thought, "Oh my God,
did I give my kid back asthma?

But I didn't.

Turns out, he was just
blowing pube dust...

to create a clean
breathing area.

Once I figured that out,
I could not stop laughing.

Because I'd come to the
realization, my son is pubic
hair waterboarding himself.

And that hits the spot.

I was laughing so hard,
my grip loosened.

He finally wiggles around
aneurysm he goes,

"Why are you doing
this to me?!"

I said, "'Cause your
mom's not here

to yell at me anymore either.

Thank you.

I used to have a story

about when my son turned 18,

I was gonna punch
him in the face.

He's 18 now.

On his birthday,
I got up, uh...

I got up early.
I set my alarm.

And I went downstairs, and
I made myself a good breakfast.

And then I heard him getting up.

And I go, here we go.

It's game time.

My heart started racing.

My hands got sweaty.

Mom's spaghetti.

So dumb.

Oh, God.

Ahh...

I started giving
myself a pep talk.

I was, like, "You can punch him.
He's 18, you can do this.

"Because you did not spank him
and these are all the spankings

that he should have
coming to him."

And then I heard him
coming down the stairs.

So I started walking towards
the bottom of the staircase.

And then he turned the corner.

And I just saw a little boy
walking towards me.

And I was, like, you can't
punch this little boy.

But here's what you can do.

You can put a hockey helmet
on him and hockey gloves.

And then you can
put those on as well

and we can go in the back yard
and we can locker box.

So that's what we did.

And I kept hitting him
in the shoulder.

And he goes, "It doesn't even
hurt, what are you doing?"

And I was, like,
"All right, just wait."

And in the third,
he could not lift his hands up

to protect his face.

That's old man knowledge.

President style.

After we locker boxed,
I went inside,

and I checked my social media
and there were over

1,000 messages asking if I'd
punched my son in the face.

Happy birthday.

That's the kind of world
we live in, I guess.

So I replied to all these
messages, I said, uh...

"Nah, I couldn't punch
him in the face.

"I didn't think
it'd be fair to him.

So instead we went in the back
yard and we locker boxed."

And then I put my phone away.

And then 24 hours later,
I checked and I had a message

from a man in
Little Rock, Arkansas,

and he had replied back
to me with a picture

of Urban Dictionary's

definition of locker box.

And I would like to tell you...

That it is not
what I thought.

Urban Dictionary's
definition of locker box

is when you're having
sex with someone,

you also shove
your nuts into them.

I mean,
where do you even start?

Do people do that?
And if so, how?
How do you do that?

The only thing I know
about that sexual position

is you probably need
the lights on.

That does not seem like a feel
around job to finish it.

Oh my God.

So anyways, I sent
over 1,000 people...

a message from
my home computer.

That said "Nah, man, I didn't
punch him in the face."

You know, 'cause that
wouldn't be fair.

Instead,

I brought him in the back yard.

And I put my balls up there.

For, like, a week,
I was nervous

that the green light on my
computer was gonna come on

on the camera and it would
just be the Feds, like,

what else is going
on over there?

All right.

My son no longer lives with me.

Not 'cause of locker boxing
or whatever, but...

He, uh, he went to one semester
of college and didn't like it.

And, uh, I get that.
I didn't like college either.

So that's fair for me.

But he also didn't
wanna get a job.

And that's where I drew the line
'cause I just, I just can't.

So, uh, I let him go
through the holidays.

We did all that stuff,
hung out a lot.

And then January 1st,
you owe me $400 rent.

And then, um, if you don't
have a job by February 1st,

I'm going to kick you out.

If you do have a job
by February 1st,

I'm gonna give you
200 of that 400 back,

and we're gonna call that
a happy father rebate.

And then if you have a job,
the first of every month,

you're gonna pay me $200 rent
for the rest of time

until I kick you out
permanently.

And he goes, "200?

What about 150
and I buy my own milk?"

Who in the fuck
drinks $50 worth

of milk in a year?

Are you having bone problems?
What's going on?

That's probably why
he can't find a job.

He's a horrible negotiator.

We'll give you $17 an hour.

What about 16?
And I'll drive myself here.

Well, you would be expected...
14!

Okay, we're no longer hiring.

The first month my son left,

my electric bill went down $80.

That's a lot.

Wanna know why?
'Cause his hobby

is leaving my lights on.

It's like a passion
project for him.

He wears a Fitbit
around his wrist,

and I bet you, he gets
10,000 steps a day

just turning
my goddamn lights on.

All around the house.
Boing, boing, boing, boing.

"Ooh, that's a lot
of green, all right."

Boing, boing, boing.

I know all my lights
are on at all times

because I live in a place where
a lot of people like to hunt.

Where my friends will get up
early at 4:00 in the morning

and they'll drive out to hunt
and they'll go by my house.

And then they'll call me
and say, "Hey, are you home?"

I go, "No, why?"

"Well, 'cause all
your lights are on."

Well, which ones?
Yeah, all of 'em.

Porch to garage, buddy.
Porch to garage.

And you wanna know
why they're on?

'Cause my son's scared
when he's there by himself.

That's the only logical reason.

He's tough, I mean, he, like,
wanted to live there, right?

He didn't live with,
he doesn't live with me

full time at that point,
you know?

Because he loves me
more than his mom, no.

Because he wanted the freedom
when I was on the road working.

"I'm tough.
I'm gonna live
at my dad's house.

"When he's gone,
it's gonna be my house.

'Cause I'm tough."

Until the wind blows a tree and
the branch scratches the house.

Boing, boing, boing,
boing, boing!

Just the steps.
Brr...

Operation Sunshine.

And still
runnin' into walls.

I also have a 14-year-old
daughter, and I gave her

a chore list with three
words on it, and she goes,

"Where's your chore list?"

You ever had a kid say something
to you and they're serious

but then you almost
ruin it 'cause you laugh?

That's what I was almost like,
"Oh God, what?"

And I just go,
"What did you say?"

And she goes,
"Where's your chore..."

She slowed it down,
like, I didn't...

Like, I actually didn't
hear her, you know?

So I said, "You know,
everything that happens

"in this house to make
this home operate.

"The three things
I ask you to do

"and that is my chore list.

"Remember when you woke up in
a bed, warm, and not hungry?

"Fuckin' check, check, check!

I did that shit."

I said, "My chore list also
has three words on it,

and it says 'keep her alive.'"

And it expires
in four years so focus.

She's 14 now.
When she was 12,

I started listening
to podcasts about periods.

And I know that seems creepy.

I'm positive I'm on
a list somewhere.

But I never wanted to be
the dad that had to send her

to her mom to ask her
all those questions.

I don't wanna, you know, like,
"That's a question for your mom.

You know where to find me
if you wanna play catch."

I mean, it's, like,
ridiculous, right?

So...

I, uh, I was listening to these
podcasts, but I had to stop

because one of them
kind of creeped me out.

It said "If you're
gonna show your daughter

how to use a tampon,
you push it into your hand."

And then, so, I was, like, well,
yeah, my hand's been a vagina.

Okay, that makes sense.

Sure.

If you're looking for a number
you're not gonna get it.

Justknow that it has been.

But then I pictured myself
pushing a tampon into my hand.

And, oh, my God, it just
looks like a magic trick.

Does it not?
Just, like, ay...

Whoa... Ah-ha-ha-ha!

Where's the tampon?!

You better find it
'cause toxic shock is real.

My daughter got her period
in my house for the first time.

And she came downstairs
and she goes,

"Uh, Dad, two things.
Number one, got my period.

Number two, don't wanna
talk about it."

And I was, like,
"Number one, great.

Number two, greater."

And she said, "I have
to go to Mom's house

'cause she bought
me some stuff."

And I said, "I don't know
if you've heard about

"the new legislation
that was just passed

but dads are now
allowed to buy things."

They're letting us
out of the house.

So I said come upstairs.
And we went upstairs

and I opened the closet
next to the laundry room.

And in there was one box

of all of the each...

I had all the kinds.

All, every box
that they make.

Or at least that
were at the store.

'Cause I got there and I was,
like, "Oh, that's different.

All right, oh,
that's different, too."

And I got all of 'em.

And that cost $217
where I live.

And I said, "Whatever you need
for this is gonna be in here."

'Cause that is every kind.

They don't make
any more than that.

If you need something
that isn't in there,

sorry about your square vagina.

And in that case, we are
gonna have to call your mom.

'Cause she's way better
at making appointments.

And then she just goes,
"God, you're so dumb!"

And she grabbed the box
and goes, "It's right here,
I know what I need."

And then she left.

I don't have anything to do
so I brought back

$211 worth of tampons.

That is an interesting exchange.

There were so many boxes left,
and you can't carry 'em in

'cause they're all
individual boxes.

So I had to walk into Target,
get an empty cart

and just walk out
with an empty cart.

And people were, like, is
this bitch stealing a cart?

What is going on?

So then I loaded it up
with all the tampons

and I brought it back in.

And I brought it
to the exchange counter.

And the guy goes, uh,
"You checkin' out?"

And I go, "Hmm, checkin' in."

And he looked at my cart.

And he looked at me
and he just goes,

"I mean, what happened?"

That is a reasonable question.

But I didn't know
I was gonna get asked.

So I panicked and I just went,

"Uh, she said pancake mix."

If we could get this done,
everybody's real hungry
at the house.

In my opinion,
it is harder raising

a 14-year-old daughter
and an 18-year-old son

than when they were little,
'cause when they were little,

I could give them
all the same rules.

I could sit them down
on the couch and both of them,

I could say, "Hey, don't
break anything.

"Don't drink
my chocolate milk.

And go outside
till it's dark."

Right? And they'd go,
"All right, Dad."

And that was it.

But now I can't do that.
I have to give them

individual rules, and it takes
longer and I don't like it.

I don't think...
Well, I also don't
think it's fair, right?

I have to tell my daughter,
"Oh, you're going to a party?

"Okay, well, keep your
water bottle close to you.
And keep the cap on.

"And, uh, you know, don't...
If you're gonna play
hide-and-seek

"please don't run into
the woods with four boys

"even if they're your friends,
'cause people could

start talking and then
that's not gonna be great."

I don't have to tell
that to my son.

"Hey, if you're going
to a party, please don't run

"into the woods with four
girls, 'cause people could

start talking and then they're
gonna think you're awesome."

It's a really weird double
standard that I don't like.

I tell my daughter a ton of
stuff when she leaves the house.

You know what I tell my son?
"Drive safe, don't rape!"

That's it.

That is it.

That is every single thing
I want him to know.

And some of you might be, like,
"You can't say rape, Chad."

Well, you sure can if you
say "don't" in front of it.

Yeah, that's, like,
the number one time

they want you saying it,
I'm pretty sure.

One time a guy after a show
honestly asked me.

He goes, "Why would you
tell your son

drive safe, don't rape?"

And I just was like,
"I really did think

that was self-explanatory."

But if you're looking
for an answer, here it is.

I want him to arrive safely,

and then when he does,
to not rape anyone.

I don't think he's going to,

but it doesn't hurt
to remind people

of big things.

Drive safe.
Don't rape.

That's four words.
They're all one syllable.

Sounds like a caveman.

Drive safe, don't rape!

And that works well
for 18-year-old boys,

'cause they are cavemen.

"Drive safe, don't rape!"

"Me!"

Yeah, you, buddy.

You for sure.
But everybody, everybody.

"Him too!"

Him too and me
drive safe, don't rape!"

There you go!

Good.

Good.

"Okay, Dad!

"Me got it!

Fire good!"

Yep, fire is good.

"Fire good, rape bad!"

Isaac smart.

Isaac smart.

I'm gonna start saying that
everywhere I go.

I mean, not like a caveman,

'cause that would creep
people out, of course.

You can't walk down
the street,

"Drive safe,
don't rape!"

Everyone would be like,
"Oh, he lost his chaperone."

I think it's a good message.

I think guys should say it
to guys all the time.

I don't think there's
any harm in it.

Plus, you're gonna learn
a lot about someone

that you say it to... right?

And here's your change.
Have a great day.

Thank you so much.
Don't rape.

"Why would you say
don't rape to me?"

If that every happens to you,

you are face to face
with a rapist.

'Cause why else would you
freak out that much?

I thought about it.

If I was walking down
the street and somebody goes,
"Hey, man, don't rape,"

I'd be like, "Oh, my God,
I was just thinking that.

Thank you.
You, too."

I've also told my son

that if he's on a date
and it's not going well

and he doesn't want
a second date,

but the girl wants to kiss him
at the end of that date,

well, just don't,
'cause that's gonna be

a real awkward situation
later on.

It's gonna be awkward for sure
in those five minutes.

But that's okay.
That's five minutes.

You don't wanna have
that shit go on forever.

And if you don't believe me,
why don't you call Aziz.

See what he thinks about it.

That come out of the mic wrong?
What happened?

Aziz got in trouble.

For having a bad date.

He's a famous comedian,

for those of you
that don't know.

And there was a girl
that he went on a date with,

and he wanted to
have sex with that girl,

and she wanted
a famous boyfriend,

and neither of that worked.

There's so much dumb

on both sides of this story

it is mind-blowing to me.

For those of you
that never read the article,

here's what happened.

They got home from dinner.

She sat
on his kitchen counter,

and then they both agreed
that he was going to put

his "this part"
on her "this part."

Immediately
when they got home.

It's like a kid hitting
a ball at Little League

and running
right to third.

I mean, yeah, it's adorable,

but there are rules here.

Then they both agreed
that she was going to put

her "this part"
on his "this part" two times.

Gentlemen, I think
we can all agree

that no means no
every single time.

But what about "uh-huh"?
Even then, for sure.

But then, ladies,
you also have to agree,

that no one can
hear you say no

when you voluntarily put
their dick in your mouth

two times.

In the article,
she was quoted as saying,

"He wasn't getting
my nonverbal cues."

Well, where I'm from,
sucking a dick

is not a good one.

"I'm not having any fun!
Nyah-nyah!"

I mean, that is not
how you call Uber.

Everybody knows that.
Everyone knows.

It's an app.

The reason I bring this up
is because I think sometimes

we shift the spotlight from
where it needs to be, right?

My daughter's 14.

I'd like to have this shit
figured out in four years.

We do, we shift it.

The Me Too movement
is super serious.

Have you read
some of the stories?

They're gut-wrenching
and heartbreaking.

And then there are some where
it's just like, "All right."

There's a lady from Michigan
who got her ass grabbed

by President Bush, Sr.
27 years ago,

and that was
her "Me Too" story.

And, like, you read
the other ones,

and you're like,
"How are you limping in

with this bullshit?"

He didn't finger
your asshole.

And I want to be very,
very clear about something.

In no way am I blaming
this woman,

but I feel like all of us
learn at a very young age

to not stand in front
of an old man

for an reason at all.

They are
the grossest things...

Not people, things...
on the whole planet.

It goes old men,
monkeys, seaweed.

Those are the top three
grossest things

on the whole planet Earth.

Monkeys throw shit at you.

Yeah, that's an easy
number two, I get it.

Seaweed messes with you
when you're swimming.

Buh-duh-luddle-uh!
You don't know what it is.

You can't see underwater.

Old men do both
of those things.

An old man will throw
shit up into the air

so you look at it just so
he can give you a wet willy.

They're the creepiest
things ever.

Have you swam
with an old man?

It's always just like...

Like their tits floating
on top of the water.

Like an oil spoil.
Like when you make a pancake.

You know what I'm talking?
How it spreads out?

Just...

I'd rather get eaten
by a shark at that point.

That's re...

Now, some people may think,

"Chad, you just think
this way 'cause you're a man."

Well, that has to be
part of it.

My brain has been connected
to a dick for quite a while.

But I believe that
all of our lenses

are tinted from several
different things.

I was also raised by
a very strong single mother,

and so I watched her operate
in different situations,

and that's what I learned.

If my mom would've
got her ass grabbed

by anyone, doesn't matter
if it's a president,

she wouldn't have
went away for 27 years.

She would've done one
of two things immediately.

She would've either
turned around and said,

"Do it again and I'm
gonna break your hand."

Or she would've just yelled,

"This piece of shit
just grabbed my ass!"

And... yeah.

I don't know
if you know this,

but that's how
you end a picnic.

And my sister and I would've
been just cowering in the car.

Like, "Oh, man, we should
clean the house when we
get home,

"uh, you know,
'cause she's pretty mad.

"Did you see what happened?
I didn't even see it.

But there was an old guy,
so probably him."

I live in the same
small town where I grew up,

and nobody likes me
from a long time ago.

And I know that sounds sad,
but it's pretty freeing,

'cause I can say
whatever I want

and I'm not gonna
lose friends.

I'm there.

I was at a small cafe,
and a woman was reading

the article about
the lady from Michigan,

and she said,
"Can you believe this?"

And I said, "That they would
waste that much ink on that?

No, I can't."

And then everyone
turned their chair

to look at both of us,

like we were gonna
locker box or something.

And she said,
"I will have you know

a female American president
would never grab an ass."

And I said, "Well,
neither would a unicorn,

'cause neither
of them exist."

You can get as mad
as you want,

but you can't do
an experiment

with a group that doesn't have
any fuckin' people in it.

I thought she had it locked.

She wears pantsuits
on purpose.

What a great
presidential candidate.

But 45% of people
that look just like her

said, "Eh, maybe next time."

You wanna know why?

'Cause women don't get along.

And I know
there's this movement.

"Yes, we do."
But you don't.

You're at the movement
with a picket sign

and you have the same one,
you're like, "Oh, fuck this!"

I mean... it's...

Heh!

And that's sad to me, 'cause
you're easily the better

of the two sexes.

You should own everything,

but you're busy bickering
your way to second place.

It's crazy to me!

A man could punch a man
in the face

and have a beer with that
same man five minutes later.

A lady could hear some shit
she maybe thought was about her

and hate that bitch
till she dies.

It's crazy, you guys.

Why are you doing that?

Here's my theory.

I feel like
you don't get along

because you've been
pit against one another

since you were little kids.

Right, you're
doing to school.

"Oh, you better get
all cute and get pigtails

"so you can find a boy.

You don't wanna be
an old maid."

Right, that's crazy

that you had to
listen to that shit.

How is the human species

the only species where
women have to look nice?

Have you seen nature?

Have you seen
a beautiful peacock?

That's a dude.

That's a dude peacock!

Just, "Ha ha!
Look what I got!"

You've ever seen
a female peacock?

Fucking gross.
They're like--

They're gray.

They're gray
and just slothy.

But they have a vagina,

so they win the whole thing.

Women, you should not ever
have to put on makeup.

You should be ale to walk
into a bar and just go,

"I'll be in the car."

That's bonkers.

I also think it would be nice

if we could all have
the same rules.

Let's make a big rule book
that everybody agrees on.

I think being
an individual is amazing

and what makes
the planet great.

However, everyone has
their own rules.

and you can't get to know
someone in a day

for all their rules, right?

So, I have a friend
on Facebook,

and she posted, "Am I ever
going to be able to go to a bar

by myself and not have
a man ask if I'm okay?"

And no is the answer.

And that sucks,
but it worked once.

I don't know when.
Let's say the '40s

There was a drinking a drink
all by herself in the bar,

and a man walked in
and he goes, "Are you okay?"

And then they had sex,
and he told everyone
he'd ever met.

And that story's
been passed down

from generation
to generation.

Little boys are walking home
from their grandfather's
homes like,

"Ask if she's okay!
Ask if she's okay!
Ask if she's okay!"

Because we're
simple creatures.

We go with what works.

In seventh grade,
a teacher told me

I look nice in sweaters.

Well, here we are.

Well, some of you
like me again.

That's good.
Welcome back.

Welcome back.

I try to stay out of
the rest of the politics

because it's...
it's too demanding, right?

And I like to sleep, so...

"Hey, Chad,
did you hear about..."

"No, I didn't.
Good night."

That's like my new move.

I do think politics divides us
and makes us softer,

because, I mean, people are
so fake taken aback when it
comes to every opinion.

They're like, "I don't
want my friend to think
that I think this

and they don't think that,
and everybody... Oh, my God!"

I'm surprised we haven't
changed our national anthem

to... .

I know we're getting
soft as a country,

'cause one time
I heard a guy go,

"If I could just be half
the man my father was."

Well, you are.
That's how genetics works.

You're also half the woman
your mom was,

and you're acting
like her now,

so get your shit together.

And I'll tell you this,
I don't even like that joke.

I just like to watch
some of the women laugh

and some of the women
not laugh

'cause it proves
you don't get along!

It's crazy!
It's...

I just said it, and you're
back on track already!

All right.

I think we're getting
softer as a country.

People say "sorry" all the time
when they don't need to.

Right, you ever
been bumped into

and somebody goes,
"Oh, sorry!"

Yeah, for what?
You just barely
bumped into me.

Have you been planning this
for two weeks?

'Cause then an apology
is necessary.

But this seems like
an "excuse me" moment, right?

Like, what are you gonna say

when someone
important to me dies?

Like, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Same way like when you
bumped into me?

I went into Starbucks once.

I go, "Hey, man,
are you in line?"

The guy goes,
"Yeah, I am, sorry."

Yeah, for what?
Getting here faster?

So I stood
right in front of him.

And he goes,
"Hey, man, I am in line."

I go, "Yeah,
but you're sorry, so...

just tying to help
with the guilt."

My daughter says
sorry nonstop.

My daughter will say
sorry three times

for the same thing.

And now you're just
being an asshole.

Sorry once.

You can't keep doing it
and think "sorry" is

gonna get you off the hook.

So I have a swear jar
in my house.

That costs you a quarter.

I have a sorry jar.
That one costs you a dollar.

What's the lesson there?

Call your dad
a piece of shit.

Just don't apologize for it.

'Cause that is a 400% markup.

My home is also filled
with hyperbole because
of my daughter.

Everything is "the best"
or "the worst."

Or "the funniest."

And can I tell you something?
It never is.

You know something's
gonna be real funny

when someone laughs all
the way through it, right?

"Dad, you're not gonna believe,
It's the funniest thing
that ever happened to me!

"Oh, my God, it's
the funniest thing I've
ever seen in my whole life!

Oh, my God,
please, Dad!"

Okay, let's hear it.

"There was a girl
running through the hall,

"and her shoe fell off,
and it was the funniest thing

I've ever seen in my whole
life, oh, Dad, please!"

When either one of my kids
tells me stories,

my face must
just glaze over.

'Cause all I am thinking
is how in the world

do some people have sex
with their own children?

Does that make sense to
anyone else in this room?

How does a human brain
allow that kind of shit

to take place?

I am so utterly turned off

by both of my kids
in every single way.

And by the way, if you're
not laughing right now,

you're the creepiest
person in this room.

'Cause that is easily
as anti-kid-touching

as it gets.

I said,
"How in the world..."

You know, Earth, the world,
the whole one...

Do some people have sex
with their own children,

and some of you
went, "Un-uh."

I'm protected,
Second Amendment.

Everybody knows you can't
change an amendment, Chad,

'cause amend means...
All right, hold on.

That's how I'm gonna
start choosing hotels
when I'm on the road.

I'm gonna walk into
a lobby and be like,

"How in the world
do some people

have sex with
their own children?"

And if no one even
looks up, I'll be like,

"Okay, cool, next hotel."

Sometimes when I
tell that story,

someone will laugh so hard
their shoulders will shake.

And other times,
someone won't even smile.

But on a magical night,
those two people...

are sitting right next
to each other.

And I get so excited
about the idea

of that uncomfortable
ride home.

"Hey, Erica, do you care if
we stop by the gas station

and get some Skittles?"

"I don't know, Patrick.
Why don't you go fuck a kid?!"

You heard me say
"Skittles," right?

I know we're getting soft
as a nation, 'cause
I travel all around it

and I hear soft noises
in comedy clubs.

One time, I heard a grown man
go, "Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho."

That's crazy.

If that is the noise
your body chooses to make,

stay home always and forever.

'Cause no one likes you,
for sure.

But the worst noise
I've ever heard

at a comedy show is this one:
"Mm, I don't, mm."

Man or woman, that
is the twatiest noise

that can come out
of the human body.

You should be able
to karate chop that

out of somebody's throat.

"Hey, man, how was your day?"

"Mm, I don't..."
Thwap!

I would rather hear choking
than hear that noise.

'Cause you know
who makes that noise?

It's people that wake up
every morning and think,

"How could I be
a victim today?"

And you know who
I'm talking about.

It's people that don't get
enough attention at work,

they don't get enough
attention at home.

So they're posting
on social media

posting all these
vague-ass statuses.

"Sure could use
some prayers today."

Post.

It's like you can almost
hear them typing it!

"Mm, I don't, mm, I don't,
mm, I don't, mm, I don't,
mm, I don't, mm, I don't."

You have to be kidding me.
Knock it off.

What do you need prayers for?
Be specific.

Everybody's worried sick
about you.

There's 150 comments, and
they're all some version of,

"Mary, sending
good vibes your way!"

"Raising the roof
with prayer!" Emoji!

And four days later,
Mary comes back,

"Tomatoes weren't
as red as I'd hoped."

Well, fuck you, Mary!

I hope you get lupus

and everybody's
all prayed out.

But your tomatoes
are red, right?

They'll have antioxidants,
won't they, Mary?

Best of luck to you,
little girl that cried prayer.

How can we not test for
the noise, "Mm, I don't, mm"?

We can test for almost
anything in-utero, right?

Let's get one of those
fancy ultrasound machines

and figure it out.

That's your
baby's heartbeat.

"Mm, I don't, mm."
We should get that
out of you immediately.

'Cause nobody wants another one
of those walking around town.

And you do not wanna live
with a third-grader

that doesn't want Oreos
'cause they're made with
hydrogenated oil!

"Mm, I don't, mm!"
Fuckin' die.

Just die already.

When I hear the noise,
"Mm, I don't, mm"...

...I get ISIS.

I get it!

I understand starting a group
to hurt other people.

That makes sense to me.

Does that mean I would
join ISIS? Of course not.

Would I scout for them?
I don't know, probably.

"Hey, man, how was your salad?"
"Mm, I don't..."

ISIS!

Bweep bweep!
I found one!

You don't wanna mess with ISIS,
man, they're a crabby group.

And we should have
seen that coming,

'cause they are all caps.

And, you guys, that's yelling.
How did we not know?

I bet if you asked
everybody in ISIS

why they joined,
over 40% would say traffic.

Because traffic
can turn a reasonable,
rational human being

into a murderous monster.

You ever been at
a four-way stop,

and it's not your turn to go,
but it's the person

in front you, it's
their turn to go?

But they're not going,
they're doing this:

"Go, go, go,
go, go, go, go!

"No, you. G-G-G-G-Go."

And you're behind 'em like,
"Fucking go!"

"You have to go,
or nobody's ever gonna go."

There are rules in place
for this situation!

You're not gonna get into heaven
for letting somebody go first
at a four-way stop!

'Cause I'm gonna stab someone,
and that shit's going
on your tab.

Because, "Go, go, go...
go, go, go," is gonna lead to,

"Gah gah! Gah gah gah gah!"

Listen, you guys,
you cannot not be nice

with someone else's time.

That is not
how kindness works.

If you want to be nice,
join the big brother

or the big sister program,
and bring a kid to the movie.

But on your way
to the theater, fu-ckin' go.

You have to go!

Now, I want you to know,
traffic is the only time

I get real upset.

That's true.
I'm a pretty laid-back guy.

I love walking around
and seeing other people get mad.

I think that's fun.

Because I am a hypocrite
and I like to judge others.

And that makes me feel good.

If I see a man yelling
at his kids, I'm like,

"Oh, I'm so much
better than him."

And that gets me through my day,
even though it's not true.

My favorite kind of anger
is self-produced anger.

We've all seen that.

Guy at the grocery store
is holding the door.

Somebody walks in,
doesn't say thank you,

and the guy holding the door
is like, "Welcome!"

Oh, my God, has anyone
ever needed to hear

"drive safe, don't rape"
more than him?

Like, ever?

What does he think,
everyone's just at the gym,

running on the treadmill,
getting in shape,

"Sure hope somebody holds
the door at the store today!

Cannot wait to say thank you!"
It's crazy.

People have other things
going on in their lives, right?

Even if it's something as small
as remembering your list

when you're walking through
the parking lot.

Just, milk, eggs, flour...

"Welcome!"

Okay. All right.

Yeah, that was
most likely for me.

Were you holding the door?
You were, right? Yeah!

I was just trying
to remember my list.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome!"

Nobody likes getting yelled at,
especially in public.

Nothing good has ever
happened from that.

A guy is never like, "Oh, I
should take that guy fishing."

All right? It's always
something like,

"Oh, I'd kill him
for sure."

That's why I admire
psychopaths a little bit.

I think psychopaths have
figured some things out.

I do. A psychopath thinks,
"I'm gonna kill that guy."

And then they just kill 'em.

And the rest of the day,
they're like,

♪ Dup duh duh da da ♪

They're just so happy that
their to-do list is done.

But a man that fears
society's rules,

you can't go killing people
all wily-nily.

We're actually like,
"Oh, I wanna kill that guy.

"But, uh, eh,
I'm already at the store.

I should probably just
get my stuff."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

And then he goes in the store,

but he hasn't forgotten that
he's been yelled at, right?

So ten minutes later,
he's walking around

the frozen food section,
just like,

"Okay, hold on.
What do you mean I'mwelcome?"

"Why am I welcome?
You're welcome. How 'bout that?

You ever thought about that?
How 'bout you be welcome?"

"I just opened
this freezer door.

"Didn't need your help
there, did I?

"No, man.
I got doors all day!

Fuck! Welcome!"

And he strokes out,
in the frozen food section.

And he forgets his list,
and goes home without milk,

eggs, or flour.

And his only job all week

was to make his little daughter
a birthday cake.

You assholes.

I mean, seriously.

Let's review all the things
we've talked about tonight.

And cake just
shut ya down, huh?

We've talked about
so many topics, you're like,

"Not the cake!
Don't you dare!"

My God, you're so nice.

Stop... "The Lord
is alive in Denver."

You weirdoes.

Just as a reminder,
a man had just stroked out
in a grocery store,

and nobody had any problem
with that at all.

And then I mention a girl not
getting cake and you're like,

"Oh, God, is there a bakery
he could stop at?

"Stop at a bakery
and get some cake?

It's her birthday."

I need you to know something,
when I wrote this story,

I never even thought about
that little girl for more
than one second.

I just needed something
to do with those ingredients.

So I picked cake,
'cause I like cake.

This little girl is just
supposed to go, "Hey, guys,"

and leave the story,
that's it.

She's like one second in,
one second out.

And you guys are like,
"Come here! We'll get you
some cake, come on!

You come here
right now!"

That's how
we roll, Chad!

This story is about a man on
the verge of a mental breakdown.

I just picture this man
in his kitchen,

stirring an empty bowl
with dead eyes.

Still has his hospital
bracelet on from the stroke.

Just mumbling things like,
"Hold the door for me?
Hold the door for you."

"Didn't need you
to hold the door.

"It was an automatic door.
You were waving at the camera.

Now you don't have to."

His father-in-law
walks in the kitchen,

"How's the cake coming?"
"Fucking welcome!"

Like, loses his mind.

And a whole bunch
of you were like,

"Is there frosting
at the house?

Can we get this kid
some frosting?"

Which is crazy to me,
because the point

of this entire story
is this.

When a woman
is breastfeeding a child...

...and the child is sick,

that illness is
in the child's saliva.

It enters the mother's body
through the areola,

it travels around
the mother's body,

the mother's body fixes it.

It puts it back in the milk,

sends the cure out
through the nipple,

kid feels better.

Our noses can categorize
50,000 smells.

Our eyeballs can see
10 million different colors.

That is the potential
of the human body.

And you can't figure out
a four-way stop?

I know I have had a lot
of problems with humanity

up here tonight.

But I also want you to know

I think I could be friends
with almost anybody.

I mean, the only group
of people I can think of

that I wouldn't
be friends with

is if we're
walking down the street

and we overhear somebody
say "fingerbang,"

and you don't even giggle...

...then I don't care
to have you a part of my life,

as a part of my life.

What, we're gonna
go to your house

and drink gin
and do accounting?

No thank you.

If you're an adult
and you hear "fingerbang"

and you don't even go,
"Heh heh, okay," like nothing?

That creeps me out.

That's why I like talking
to really old people.

Like 95 years or older,
you can say whatever
you want around them.

They're just
glad your talking.

You could say "fingerbang"
in front of a 95-year-old woman

and she'd be like,
"I remember fingerbanging."

"I was fingered by
Abraham Lincoln's nephew!"

"Also a tall man, huge hands."

"I remember he removed
his riding glove,

and it was like
a fist full of dicks."

"It was thrilling!

"President Lincoln once said,

"'A house divided
cannot stand.'

Well, neither could I."

Dude, old people
can say or do whatever.

That's how old men ended up
as the creepiest things
on the planet.

I can't wait to be that old.

I cannot wait until my actions
don't have consequences.

I'm not gonna
throw shit at people

or be weird
when I'm swimming,

but I still wanna have fun...
when comedy's done.

I don't have hobbies,
so I'm not gonna

whittle recorders out of wood

and bring them
to middle schools.

I'm just gonna sit
at the bus stop,

and them I'm gonna flick guys
in the dick when they walk by.

And I know comedy's supposed
to be smarter than that,

but I don't care,
flicking dicks

is really funny to me.

I'm just gonna sit at the bus
stop with a big coat on,

but my arms not
in the sleeves.

Then I'm gonna sneak attack
out the zipper. Thwap!

"What are you doing?"
Doesn't matter, I'm old.

"Well, I'm gonna call the cops."
Go ahead, I need a ride home.

They're not gonna
arrest an old man

for flicking dicks, right?

It's probably not even
in the book.

"Hey, uh... we're down
at the, uh, bus stop,

and we have a..."

"We have a...

" There's an old guy
down here flicking dicks and...

"Dude, it is outrageous.
I don't know...

"He's killing people.
It's crazy!

"I don't know if his
right shoulder is made up

"of only fast-twitch
muscle fibers,

"but this guy is unreal.

"He's beating younger men
to their crotches,

"and my God,
is it fun to watch.

"And you know my rule:
If I laugh at something,

I don't make an arrest, so..."

"I'm just gonna eat my lunch
here and watch, over."

Because dicks are not
protected by the law.

And I'm in no way saying
they should be.

I'm telling you
straight up, they're not.

You flick a lady in the tit,
well pack your shit,

'cause you're going to jail.

Right?
As it should be.

But you could curb-stomp...

...a guy's bare dick,

in front of a cop,
and the cop would be like,

"It's probably gonna be
a stomach ache.

Catch you guys later!"

Nobody cares about dicks.

That's why sometimes when I hear
women go, "We want equality!"

I always just wanna whisper,
"Yeah, but not all of it."

"You don't want
the curb-stomping part.

"Just take the good stuff.

Take the M&Ms out of the trail
mix, leave the raisins."

'Cause you have equality
across the board, and you
get the good stuff,

you're gonna have to do things
you don't wanna do, like

start calling your shots
when you play pool.

Hold on.

Hold on for one second.

I saw some women react like
I said you were bad at pool.

Those words never
came out of my mouth.

I never said women
are bad at pool,

I said you're cheaters.

That's different.

It's gonna be no more of this:

"Oops, I made it
in the wrong pocket,

"but I'm cute
and you wanna fuck me,

"so it's still my turn,
still my turn,

still my turn!"
Uh-uh.

That goes out the door
with equal pay.

Now you're gonna have
to buy your own drinks,

and they're $17.50 a piece.

You didn't even
know that, did you?

Yeah!
Back of the line,
yoga pants.

It's equality night.

If we have true equality
between men and women,

uh, we're gonna be able
to fistfight in the middle
of the street.

And I can tell you, I don't
wanna live in a world like that.

'Cause I would lose
to upwards of 45% of women.

Sounds like a high number,
but let's go through the groups.

White trash ladies, uh-huh.

I'd lose to most of them.

'Cause they're tricky.

They've had to get out
of some tight spots

by thinking on their feet.

A white trash lady
will say something like,

"Look at my tits!"
And when you do,

they hit you
with something real hard.

Probably a glass ashtray.

You ever seen a kung fu movie?

Little Asian girl
skipping to school.

Old Asian guy walks
around the corner,

"Your skipping is stupid,"

and she floats up into the air
and murders him with face kicks?

You're gonna have to factor in
all little Asian girls to that.

Every single of 'em, 'cause you
don't know which ones can float.

They don't put stickers on 'em.

You're going to have
to factor in all black women

and start removing
their earrings

as they're moving towards you.

Because I don't care
what martial art

you've trained in, gentlemen,

that's gonna be a loss
on your record.

If you make a black woman
so upset with you

for whatever bullshit
you're doing,

and she pulls her earring off
and goes, "What?"

Just go, "Nothing,
nothing, nothing!"

And you run.
And you find shelter.

And my I suggest
a body of water.

Now... some of you
are gonna be pretty surprised

by this next part.

Because a lot of you think
I think black people don't swim.

And that's the craziest thing

I've ever heard
in my whole life.

You can't think an entire group
of people doesn't do one thing.

That's ridiculous
and how bad stuff starts.

I know black people swim.
I've seen black people swim.

What I have never seen,
and no one has,

is a black woman that
just got her hair done

get it wet on purpose.

That has not happened
since the beginning of time,

and black people
were the first people,
they've had more time!

A black woman will follow you
into a body of water,

but just up to her hair.

And then she'll be like,
"Uh, nope," and back it on out.

And then you're just
treading water in the lake.

"Are you gonna leave?!"

"I took the afternoon off
to get my hair done.

I have nowhere to be."

I saw a black lady leave
a hair salon one time.

She looked up, it started
raining on her hair,

and she looked up into the sky,
and she goes, "No!"

And it stopped raining.

So... you know.

Still think Jesus is white?

I know I talk a lot of crap
about my son up here.

But I do want you to know
that he's a very respectful
young man.

And he is a smart...
like, too smart, maybe.

And he has a very dry
sense of humor.

To the point where you
don't know if it's a joke

or if you're
gonna get murdered.

Right, you wake up the next day
and you're like...

"That's funny, buddy!

"Good job, it's
a very funny joke!

Oh, my God, I'm alive!"

It's like that kind
of sense of humor.

We were walking
down the street one day,

it was my son
and my daughter and I,

and, uh, an Asian family
was walking towards us.

And there were seven of them.

And none of them were higher...

I don't get it.

"There were seven of them"?

Is that like
a weird thing to say?

Agh, fuckin' legalize pot.
Here's what happens.

You don't have to say
anything funny,

you just present a fact
and people are like,

"Oh, my, whoa God!

"Dad, you're not gonna believe
what happened to me.

"Oh, my God,
it was the funniest thing

I've ever seen
in my whole life."

We were walking towards
an Asian family.

There were seven of them.

None of them were higher
than my chest.

Now... does that mean I think
all Asian people are short?

No, of course not.

I know Asian people
that are taller than me.

I'm just telling you
these are the facts

of this particular story.

So the grandparents passed us,
and then the parents passed us,

and the children passed us.

And my son slowed down,
and he looked at me and he goes,

"Do you think Godzilla was
just a normal-sized lizard?"

And my daughter said,
"Isn't that racist?"

And I said,
"We will figure that out

when I'm done laughing."

'Cause sometimes, you just
gotta let 'er buck.

I brought my son to
a comedy festival in Nebraska.

It was Johnny Carson's hometown.

And I was always such
a huge fan of Johnny Carson.

I wanted to show my son
some history, right?

They have a museum there
and everything.

So we went there and we
had a great time and the...

Before the first show,
we're in the green room.

It was me,
a couple friends, my son.

And then two comedians walked in
that I had never met,

so they didn't know me and they
certainly didn't know my son.

And so they thought
he was a comedian.

And they were like,
"How old are you?"
And he goes, "I'm 18."

They go, "Oh, you think
you're gonna go out there

"and wow the adult crowd
with your 18-year-old humor?

"Yeah? Is that right?
Is that what you're gonna do?

"Sure, uh-huh.
You gonna tell 'em about

how you live
with your parents?"

And somebody
whispered to me, they go,

"Are you gonna help your son?"

And I was like, "Nah,
I sharpened the stick.

I know how it pokes."

So the guy was just
giving it to my son.

And he's finally done,
and my kid goes,

"Yeah, thank you
very much for that.

"I really appreciate
the advice.

Um, do you mind
if I say something
I like about your act?"

And the guys goes,
"Go for it."

He goes, "I really like how you
smile at the end of your jokes

"to let people
know they're finished,

since the punch lines
don't do the trick."

Everybody slowly looked at me,
and I was just like,

"Daddy raised you right!"

So thrilled.

But that wasn't even
my favorite.

A the end of the week,
there was a former
Miss Nebraska there.

Just a lovely woman.
She was like the town
celebrity, so nice.

And she invited us
all to her home

to have a buffet
at the end of the week.

And so we got there,
it was my friend Joe,

my friend Phil,
my son, and myself,

and we got there late,
and there were no plates left.

And Phil is from Canada.

And I only tell you that
to let you know

that he doesn't care
about others.

So we walked in
and there were no plates
left at the buffet.

And he...
There were three plates

on the kitchen wall,
and Phil goes,

"Can I use one of these?"

And she goes,
"No, you may not,"

and he goes, "Why not?"

And she started crying.

And through tears,
she told us this story

about how her mom
had left Europe

with just 12 plates
and the clothes on her back,

and then she met the husband,
and they had four kids,

and they all got three plates,
and all four of those kids

had three children
of their own,

so they were all
going to get one plate.

And Phil goes,

"Is that it?"

And she goes,
"Yes, it is."

And he goes, "Well, I'm hungry,
I'm going to get food."

And he turned,
but he had a backpack on.

And it knocked a plate off of
the wall, and it shattered.

And the only thing you could
hear in the kitchen

was the clock ticking

and this woman sobbing.

And my son goes,
"God damn it, Phil,

now she's gonna have to
kill one of her kids."

I mean, come on.

This lady went from
crying to laughing,

and she goes,
"Oh, I like you."

And my son goes, "Enough
to let me pick which kid?"

Dude's like a superhero

who doesn't know how
to use his powers yet.

"I'm flying!
Is that a wall?" Smash!

Thank you guys very much!

I appreciate you
coming to the show!

Thank you!

Thank you, thank you,
thank you.

You guys are the best!
Thank you very much.

Hang tight.
Hang tight.

I wanna tell you one more story.
You can sit back down if
you would like.

One more!

What a... what a weird way
to ruin a standing ovation.

When I was starting comedy,
uh, I had zero money.

And so my son
was about to be born,

and so I called
this booking agent and I go,

"Hey, man, is there any way
you can get me any work at all?

I just really need
to make some money."

And he goes,
"How about this week?"

And I go, "Ah,
that's not gonna work,

"'cause that is the week
my son is going to be born,

and I need to be
around for that."

And he goes,
"Well, good luck,

because children
ruin comedy careers."

So I would like
to introduce you

to two people
that beg to differ.

This is my son Isaac.

My daughter Olivia.

Wow, it's loud.

Pretty good, huh?

Yeah.

Do you, uh, have
anything to say?

Just wanted to
let you all know that, uh,

I start my job
on Monday.

Anything?

Anyone bring
their passport?

Ahh...

Uh, kids do not
ruin comedy careers.

Uh, they make them.
But more importantly,

these two have
just made my life
a million times better,

so, uh, I just wanted
to tell you guys that,

because I know
I pick on them a lot.

But they are the best.
And thank you guys very much.

♪ Were you scared
when you heard me scream ♪

♪ Must be wrong
if I let you leave ♪

♪ Would you get dressed up ♪

♪ Would you steal a name ♪

♪ You never let us know ♪

♪ Or care ♪

♪ Or see me again ♪

♪ This love can never be ♪

♪ You're burning as a flame ♪

♪ You're coming for death ♪

♪ No need for games
when you aim to cheat ♪

♪ Let's play fair
and not compete ♪

♪ Would you let me know ♪

♪ That you hold my hand ♪

♪ Would you pull me close ♪

♪ Or wish me dead... ♪♪