Kevin Hart: Zero F**ks Given (2020) - full transcript
- Yo.
- What's up?
I was looking
all over the house for y'all.
We're chilling.
About to go downstairs,
get some work done. What up, champ?
Finish your homework?
- No.
- Look in my eyes.
You're lying.
Finish your homework.
Stop playing with me.
Zo, give Daddy two.
Ah, ah. Give me a boom.
Boom! Give me a headbutt.
Give me a kiss.
- Why're you looking at me?
- Love you.
- Give me a kiss.
- Okay.
- Love you.
- Heaven, finish your work?
Yes, for the most part.
See you when I come back up.
- Bye!
- Bye.
- Bye, Dad.
- Pow!
Ooh.
Daddy about to have a good time.
Big cube, coming in. Taste it.
Mmm.
Ha-ya! Heh. Yeah.
Hey.
Wow!
The GOAT. Legend.
Inspiration.
My man.
Aww. So nice.
So nice.
Oh, man!
Well, thank you. Thank you.
Well, thank you. Thank you!
Much appreciated. Stop it.
Sit down.
Sit down.
I appreciate it. Thank you.
Hello. Hi.
I can say hello. First time
I've been this intimate with a crowd.
So I can say hello and I can get
a hello-like response back.
I'mma say it again.
Hello. How y'all doing? Good?
Good. I like it.
This feels right to me.
- This feels right.
- Yeah!
I've been in a lot of
different spaces to tell some jokes.
Been in fucking stadiums,
arenas, theaters.
This right now feels right, in the comfort
of my own fucking home. Thank you.
Thank you.
Getting back to the basics.
I wanna explain to you, guys,
why I'm actually in my house.
We're here for a reason.
I'm no longer comfortable
anywhere else but my house.
I'm being very fucking honest
with you guys. I am not comfortable
anywhere except my house.
And it's for a lot of reasons.
We should get into those.
Address the elephant in the room.
Reason number one, COVID.
COVID.
Where you at right now?
Where's your panic level?
High? In the middle? Low?
Where you at? Be honest, let me know.
Middle? High? Low?
Kind of high? A little bit?
News flash. I had it!
That's right, I had the 'VID.
The 'VID-19 was in my system.
I had it in the beginning when it
wasn't cool, when it wasn't a trend.
It was me and Tom Hanks.
We was the only two.
I had to keep it a secret
because Tom Hanks
is a much bigger star than I am.
He will swallow my fucking announcement.
He's Forrest Gump. You're not
gonna beat Forrest Gump. No shot.
No fucking shot I'mma beat Forrest Gump.
If it was somebody lesser than, I would've
dropped that bitch in a heartbeat.
David Hasselhoff. Fuck David Hasselhoff.
Ain't nobody give a shit
about David Hasselhoff.
Boom! Dropped it.
"Kevin Hart's got it, too.
Save Kevin Hart.
You know why I call it the 'VID?
It's the closest thing to AIDS.
It just sounds as dangerous as AIDS.
The 'VID. "You got the 'VID? Fuck, man!"
"I got the 'VID."
"You got the 'VID? Shit!"
"Praying for you.
You got the fucking 'VID."
I didn't know I had it.
I didn't know I had it, man.
I had no symptoms at all.
No fever, no headache,
no body aches, nothing.
Now, my wife lost her sense
of taste and her sense of smell.
She told me, "Babe, I think I got it.
We should get tested."
I said, "Well, we don't have a problem."
"You got the fucking problem.
Why do I have to get tested?"
"I can taste and smell fine.
Why the fuck do I gotta get tested?"
Doctor came over to the house.
Doctor came over, tested both of us.
Said, "You guys are both positive."
I said, "Bullshit."
"Bullshit! No way I'm fucking positive."
I immediately touched my nose twice.
Ah, ah. "Could I do that?"
"If I had the 'VID, could I fucking
do this two times in a row?"
Can't touch your nose
with the 'VID. Everybody knows that.
Said, "Mr. Hart, I'm very serious.
You're positive."
This caused an uproar
in my household, immediately.
Me and my wife go at each other's throats,
"Who the fuck
brought the 'VID up in this house?"
"Who was it?"
Got to see how we felt
about each other's friends.
"It was that nasty bitch Pam you
always hanging with. That's who did it."
"Dirty-foot bitch."
"Her feet dirty. She tracked the 'VID
all through the goddamn house."
"Dirty-foot Pam did it."
"Got the fucking 'VID
all in this goddamn house."
"Wash the carpets immediately."
Doctor calmed me down, "Calm down, Kevin."
"It'll pass.
Take ten to fourteen days. Relax."
"Chill out. Drink some tea."
That's what the doctor
told me to my fucking face.
"Drink some tea."
Are you kidding me?
"I got the fucking 'VID, Doc!"
"The hell is tea gonna do for me?"
"Where's my ventilator?"
That's what I said. "Where is it?"
"I'm supposed to get a ventilator.
Everybody knows that."
"You get a ventilator with the 'VID.
That's what they say in the blogs."
"You'll be fine, Mr. Hart,
you'll be fine."
When the doctor told me that,
my level of panic lowered.
I was at the highest level
in the beginning.
Oh, my God.
When it first hit,
oh, my fucking God,
I didn't know what to do.
I went and put gas
in all the fucking cars.
Gotta be able to escape.
Motherfuckers turning into zombies here.
I was scared.
Went and bought all the water
and toilet paper I could find.
Still don't know why
we went on this toilet paper kick.
What was so special about toilet paper?
Nobody told me.
Did the 'VID make you shit?
What was it? What…
We bought all the fucking toilet paper.
Dry noodles, I got it all!
The mask, I went crazy with the mask.
In the beginning,
I didn't know what mask to buy.
Had a regular mask.
My friend told me, "Hey, man,
that ain't the right mask,
the 'VID gonna get through that mask."
"That mask ain't gonna
protect you against the 'VID."
"Fuck!
Are you serious?"
"I'm serious. You gotta get the N95s."
"Oh, shit."
Went on a website,
I bought every N95 I saw.
I spent 20 grand on N95s.
Went outside the day after, I saw
a nigga with a titty cup on his face.
Wasn't even a…
With a bra strap.
What the fuck? That's not a N95.
That's a A-cup bra.
What the hell just happened?
He didn't spend 20 grand on that. No way.
Somebody duped me, man.
My wife told me flat-out,
"Babe, you know what?"
"This is messing with your head.
You gotta get out this house."
"You gotta get out the house."
I said, "There is nothing
outside this house for me."
"Nothing. There's no reason
for me to go outside this house."
"No shot."
"The things outside this house,
I have no interest in."
"There's people out there.
I don't like people." I said it.
Cat's out the bag.
I don't fucking like people anymore.
You won. You beat me up.
You fucking won, man.
You know how?
Because you guys have managed to
fuck up the best job in the world, man.
At one point in time,
fame was the most sought-after
and best job on the fucking planet.
If you didn't have it,
you wanted a piece of it.
You wanted to taste a little bit of it.
I got it.
I got to the highest level of it,
and then you fucked me,
oh, you fucked me good.
Oh, this generation fucked me good.
Everything's gotta be compromised.
Everything's gotta be videoed
in this generation.
If it's not on video, it never happened.
That's how this generation lives.
Let me tell you guys the scariest thing
that you could do to a Black man in 1986
if you were the cops or the feds.
Scariest thing that you could do is tell
a Black man that you had him on tape.
If the feds came up, "We got
your ass on tape. You going to jail."
He'll shit himself, "What? Who? Me?"
"On tape?"
Oh! He'd start crying.
"I'm on fucking tape."
"All y'all going to fucking jail.
We got all y'all on tape."
He'll tell all his friends,
"Come out, Calvin, Marcus, Terrence."
"They got us. Anthony, you, too."
"Said they got us all on tape.
We're going to jail, apparently."
"We're going to fucking jail."
"We on tape."
That's all the feds had to say,
"Got your ass on tape."
Scariest thing you could do.
You guys don't even realize
that you're the feds… for free.
You're not even getting paid.
For fucking free.
You're just telling on people
all goddamn day.
Just a bunch of walking fucking snitches.
It's disgusting.
It's disgusting.
I went to McDonald's…
This is a true story.
I go to McDonald's.
I'm at the drive-through, right?
I want a Big Mac Meal.
I haven't had one in so long.
I'm so excited for this fucking Big Mac.
Oh, my God,
I can't wait to get this Big Mac.
I get the Big Mac. I'm excited.
I pull over in the parking lot.
I start fucking the Big Mac up.
Smashing it.
It's all over my face, everything.
I'm happy as hell.
I turn to my left, a woman
outside the window taping me.
She said, "Got your ass."
I got nervous.
"What the fuck is you doing, lady?"
She said, "Mmm-mmm. But I got your ass."
"What the fuck you mean, got my ass?
What am I doing?"
I'm so nervous, I dropped the burger.
I just dropped the fucking burger.
I grabbed my phone, I went to Twitter,
I issued an apology via social media.
I said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The reason why I apologized is
because two days earlier, I announced
that I was going
plant-based full-time. I'd just said it.
This video was detrimental to
everything that I stood for at the moment.
Had to issue an apology
to the plant-based community.
Became an ally.
Made a donation, was a part of protest.
I had to do what I could.
Stood by the side of cows,
took pictures. It was a lot.
I don't like what you guys
have made me become.
I don't like it.
I'm no longer comfortable.
You switched it on me.
Fuck!
You switched it on me, man.
For the longest time, celebrities
looked at people as the weird people.
"Them motherfuckers
get weird sometimes, man."
"People get weird."
That's how we looked at people.
You switched it.
We're the weird people now.
You look at us,
"What the fuck is wrong with him?"
We're the weird people.
I don't know how to act in public.
"Why are you staring?"
"What's going on, man?"
I think everybody knows.
"Get your hands out your pocket."
"What's happening? Come on."
"Fuck you about to do to me?
You about to eat me? Come on."
"The fuck you talking about?
Nobody worried about your ass."
"Bullshit. Look at that guy
looking at me in his glasses."
"I know somebody thinks I'm dinner
when I see it. They trying to eat me."
Making crazy accusations
all over the fucking place.
Losing my mind. Going crazy.
You guys got me living my life
like a successful drug dealer.
It's a true story. True story.
There was a time,
if you wanted to come to talk to me,
you had to get naked.
Get in the fucking pool.
How else would I know that you're
not wearing a wire? "Who you with?"
"E!? People? Who the fuck is you with?"
"Came for a story for tabloids.
I don't trust you, Dad."
"I'm your father." "Shut up, bitch!"
"Who you been talking to, Dad?"
"Get in the pool."
"Finish this conversation in six feet."
"Switch that. Four.
Go to four feet. I can't see. Go to four."
This is where I am.
This is where I am.
My wife says the same things,
"Honey, you're getting old."
"Getting angry, irritable.
Need to get out and get back to yourself."
"Get back to your ways of old.
You can't live like this."
I decided to do stand-up again.
I said, "Baby, you're right. I need to go,
start doing stand-up comedy again."
That's how I get back to myself.
That's how I get back to me.
I told my friends I was
gonna start doing comedy again.
They said, "Gonna talk
about wife and kids again?"
I said, "What else do I have?"
I don't have nothing else.
All my bitches left after the sex tape.
Every bitch I had, left.
Every one of them. "Where you going,
Lorraine? Gladys? Pearl?"
"Where you going?"
These are older names
'cause I had older bitches at the time.
"Get back here, Ethel. Come on, man."
"Don't do this to me."
"Magnus, come on, please."
"Please don't do this."
"Loretta, you can't leave. Come on."
What else do I have?
I have to.
Talking about my kids is a must, man.
A must. They're part of my everyday life.
I don't know what else to talk about,
outside of the things
that I go through on the daily.
My kids are with me on a daily.
Two teenagers, one three-year-old,
a baby that could be here any day now.
Any fucking day now.
About to throw these balls in the trash.
I ain't having no more fucking babies.
I'mma roof these balls
after this fucking baby come.
I'mma take both balls,
throw them on the fucking roof.
You can kiss my ass
thinking another child is coming
out of these balls, I promise.
You're a liar if you say it's my baby.
Balls in the trash after this baby.
My daughter and I are
closer than we've ever been.
My daughter's boy crazy.
Boy crazy.
Once again, I gotta act like I like it.
I don't. You gotta act like you do.
I love that, in my specials, you get
to see the growth of my fucking kids.
You see their development.
They're getting older, man.
Daughter told me she likes
this boy named Matt at her school.
"Dad, I like this boy named Matt.
Oh, my God. He's so cute."
"He makes me laugh. I want him."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"What does that mean?"
"I want him." "What the fuck
are you saying, little girl?"
"Should I tell him?"
"If that's how you feel, tell him."
She goes to school,
tells him how she feels, comes home,
"Dad, oh, my God. Guess what?
Matt likes me back. We're a thing."
"Good for you, honey. Makes me happy."
"Do me a favor, keep it
in the kid space, though."
"Okay, Dad."
She comes back home two days later.
"Dad, I don't like Matt no more.
I like this boy named Rob now."
"He look better, make me laugh more.
That's who I really want."
"It happens.
Sometimes you think you like somebody,
you meet somebody else, you realize
that's the person you liked all along."
"It's called life."
"Make it happen. Move on.
Be honest with the other person."
"Right, Dad, I love you."
"Keep it in the kid space."
A week goes by.
"Dad, I don't like Rob no more."
"I like this boy named Tim."
Instantly, in my mind,
I said, "My daughter a ho.
This is ho shit."
"This is ho shit."
Ho activity right in front of my face.
I immediately called a ho
that I knew from the past.
Asked her if this is how
it went down for her.
Three boys back-to-back.
She said, "Yup, the same way."
"Next thing I knew, I was plucking balls
in the bathroom." What's happening?
Don't want my baby plucking balls.
I gotta save her.
I gotta see these boys.
Went to school.
Wanted to see what they look like.
I saw 'em.
Saw Matt first. Gotta be honest.
Charming little kid,
personality was out of this world.
I see why she likes Matt.
I see it. I get it.
Charming little boy. I get it.
Personality, funny guy.
I see why you like Matt. I get it.
Then Rob walked in. Rob walked in.
I didn't look at Matt again.
I forgot all about Matt.
Who the fuck is Matt?
Rob had a different thing.
Personality popped.
Had a bunch of pizzazz, flair.
Used his hands a lot when he talked.
This kid's got something.
I see why she don't like fucking Matt.
Then Tim walked in.
Tim had on leather pants…
with Heelys.
Know how confident you gotta be
to wear leather pants in high school?
Black kid with leather pants.
There's no Black kid
that I've ever heard about
that wore leather pants
outside of Lenny Kravitz.
That's the only Black man.
And it's a rumor that
Lenny did it at a young age.
Tim had Heelys on,
just slid through the fucking room.
Jesus Christ, man.
Cigarettes under his arms.
I said, "Do you smoke?"
He said, "It's a look,"
as he was gliding by me.
Fuck.
Kids today are different.
My son and daughter
are on two different pages.
Shit makes me laugh. Always have been.
Always have been
two completely different pages.
My son is… He's what you call…
What do they call it today?
What are kids called today,
when the kids are…
Dumb. There it is. I got it. Dumb.
Struggling academically.
You are like, "Don't call your kid dumb."
Why not? He's mine.
Chip off the old fucking block.
Not like I'm standing up here as
a smart-ass. I was dumb as shit, too.
Worked out for me so far.
Dumb is the way to go in my household.
It's the right way to go.
Then it pisses me off
as the school constantly calls me
to remind me of my son's
educational problems.
"Mr. Hart, he failed another test."
"Mr. Hart, his grades are dropping."
"Want to discuss your son's grades?"
"They continue to drop."
I snapped on 'em, "Don't call me no more."
"Don't call me about
his grades no more. Call him."
"Call him. That's his problem.
Not my problem."
"Last I checked, I went to school.
I passed. I'm successful.
Not going to school again.
He needs to fucking pass
that class, not me."
"Call him."
Private schools, man,
they got this weird thing.
Not much of a fan
of private schools, honest.
I am not a fan of private schools at all.
My kids attend private schools.
Doesn't mean I'm a fan of it.
I feel like private schools
protect kids from reality.
They protect you.
They protect you from fucking reality.
Private school…
Private schools breed bitches.
That's how I feel. I said it.
I'm not taking it back.
That's how I fucking feel.
Private schools breed bitches.
I'm in my comfort zone,
I'mma let it fly today.
Everything that I fucking feel, I'mma say.
You ever see a grown man get punched
in the face that went to private school?
He immediately looks for a teacher.
He just… He gives you five of these…
"Huh."
"I don't know. Why?"
Looking for somebody to tell him why.
"I don't know. Why? What?"
"We gotta have an arbitration.
When's the meeting?"
Public schools, now that's different.
Public schools, you got no choice
but to grow the fuck up.
You got no choice
but to grow up in public schools.
It's a pot of fuckshit.
They just throw you in it.
They throw you in it. Nobody prepares you
for the shit you gonna see.
I saw my first white person
in public school.
I didn't know what the fuck it was.
It was the only one there.
"The fuck is that? Jesus Christ!"
I thought it was somebody
from Star Wars, "A stormtrooper."
"Fucking stormtrooper right there."
Just a white person walking down the hall.
I was making the noises…
"It's a fucking stormtrooper. No?"
"No, that's a white person."
"I never knew.
Nobody told me what it was."
Public school throws you
into a pot of fuckshit.
Everything is there.
White people, Black people,
Mexican, Chinese, Puerto Rican.
Fat, skinny, gay, straight.
Dirty, clean. It's all there.
They just push you in.
You gotta figure it out.
Kids are scared.
They run to the teacher,
"I'm scared. Help."
The teacher answer, "Me, too, bitch.
"Walked through the same metal detectors.
Don't think I'm scared?"
"Keep your back against the locker,
head on a swivel."
"What?"
"Get you Mace,
put it in a plastic bottle."
"Gush it at him. That's what I'd do."
"Gush it?"
I don't feel like my kids' private school
respects my level of celebrity.
I don't. I really don't.
I mean this. I swear to God, my plan…
I'm gonna be very honest.
It's my fucking household.
I'm not holding back.
They don't respect my level of celebrity.
I'm a very humble guy.
May not seem like it after that sentence,
but I am. I'm a very humble guy.
What's understood doesn't need to be said.
You know who I am. I know you know it.
Don't make me say who I am.
They put me in the position
to have to say who I am.
I go drop my kids off at school,
teachers come out, surround my car.
"Mr. Hart, we'd love
to talk to you for a second."
"The big fair is coming up."
"We do this fair
once a year at the school."
"We would love it
if you would be the greeter
at this year's fair."
I gave her time for her to say,
"I'm bullshitting."
She never said it.
I said, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No, it's our biggest fair."
"We would love it
if you would be the greeter."
"We think you would make
an amazing greeter at this year's fair."
Before I go on with this joke,
I wanna make something clear.
First things first,
I have nothing against greeters.
Okay? I don't wanna tell this joke
and walk outside my house
and you're there with signs
talking "Cancel Kevin Hart
'cause he don't respect greeters."
"Cancel Kevin Hart
'cause he don't respect the greeters."
Greeters are amazing people.
The job is actually required. I get it.
I've actually been hit
with amazing greetings in my time.
I went to Walmart, I got hit with
a greeting so fantastic one time…
I don't even know where he came from.
He just slid in my POV.
I walked in. He was like,
"Welcome to Walmart."
"Here to get some stuff?"
I said, "What the fuck?"
"Where did you come from, man?"
"You better get some stuff.
We rolling back prices."
Then he moonwalked.
He just moonwalked out the way.
I said, "What the fuck just happened?"
"What just happened here?"
I was so blown away by the greeting,
not only did I go get me some stuff,
I broke my neck
looking for this guy on the way out.
I wanted him to see my stuff.
"Hey, come here, man!"
"Hey, come here.
I wanna show you my stuff."
He came over, I opened my bag.
He was like… "Ooh!"
He said, "Ooh!
You got you some good stuff."
Took out his highlighter, swiped
my receipt so people knew I didn't steal.
Said, "Make sure you come back,
see me again."
I said, "Gonna be here?"
He said, "If not, who will?"
Moonwalks out the way again.
I said, "What the fuck?"
"It's one of the best greetings
I've ever seen, man."
"Of course I'mma come back
and see you again."
I'm not shitting on greeters. I'm just
saying I didn't have to go that route.
I went around that to get to my success.
You don't come to me
and ask me to be the fucking greeter.
I had a number-one movie
in the box office at the time.
I was on the side of fucking buses.
You don't ask me to be the greeter.
There are parents
that got kids that go there
that are former actors and actresses
that you could have asked.
Carlton from the Fresh Prince, Alfonso?
That's your greeter. This right here.
That's what you want in front.
That's your greeter.
Terry Crews. He got kids there.
That's your greeter.
Pec-popping at the front.
"Hey…"
"Hey… Welcome to the fair.
Who want a ticket? Hey, hey!"
What a combination.
Parents would've went crazy. "Whoa!
"What a school."
"I want tickets.
I'm gonna buy every ticket I can."
Hey…
Parents would be blown away.
These greeters are amazing.
Wife said what she normally says.
"Kevin, calm down."
"Get yourself together.
You getting older, more irritable,
and you don't want
that energy to rub off on your kids."
It's not gonna rub off on my goddamn kids.
I know it's not gonna rub off on my kids.
This pandemic gave me a chance
to spend a lot of time with my kids.
A lot of time with my kids.
For the first time, I realized
my kids are a little spoiled.
They're a little spoiled.
But it's not by choice,
it's by circumstances.
I have good kids.
My kids are great kids. I gotta be honest.
I got very lucky. I got great kids.
But because of their circumstances,
they're a little spoiled.
For example, they've been flying private
since birth, they didn't ask for that.
They were born into that.
They only travel with me.
First time they traveled without me
was during this pandemic with my ex-wife.
Went back to Philadelphia
with their mom to go see their grandma.
Kids called me from the airport.
You would have thought
my kids were in Baghdad.
I've never seen…
a higher level of panic
in my fucking life.
Called me from the airport, "Dad!"
"What's happening?"
My daughter was like,
"They're taking my lotions, toothpaste."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"They're making me walk through metal…"
My son snatched the phone,
"What the fuck is going on, Dad?"
"They won't let me take my bags."
"They said I can't take
my backpacks, pulleys, duffys."
"I gotta put my games underneath.
How am I gonna play 'em, Dad?"
I told them both, "Relax. Stop it. Stop!"
"Both of you."
"It's called security."
"It's called TSA, okay?"
"This is called life with your mother."
"All right? There's a difference."
"There's a drop-off. It's all right."
"Things change."
"It's okay."
"You'll both be fine."
I overlooked some things I do
because I never thought twice about 'em.
Me and my kids go to
the amusement park, we do the whole park.
The whole fucking park,
man, in 30, 40 minutes.
How? Well, I call ahead.
There's a concierge. I get to the park,
concierge walks me and my family
up to the front of every single ride.
Done it for years.
Keep in mind, I explain to my kids,
"This is earned. It's not given."
"This doesn't just happen."
"Your father worked hard to be able
to walk to front of these fucking lines."
"There's rules. You don't just
walk to the front of the line."
"Rule number one, as we are
walking to the front of the line,
you do not make eye contact with none
of these fucking people in this line."
"You hear me?"
"You keep your eyes straight ahead
and you don't fucking look left or right
until we get to the front of the line."
"These people are gonna say things.
They're gonna say a lot of mean things
about me, you."
"You just ignore 'em."
"Ignore 'em, because guess what?
We're in our car, headed home."
"Never gonna see these people again."
"You know where these people
gonna be? Still in that fucking line."
"Still gonna be in line."
"And that's reality."
My kids processed that,
they understood it.
For years, this is how we operated.
They called me from the amusement park.
They were with their cousins,
they FaceTimed me.
I answer their FaceTime.
I could tell that they were weak.
Malnourished, they hadn't eaten
in hours, I could tell.
They had white shit
in the corner of their mouths.
They could barely stand.
"Dad!"
"We've been in line for hours,
we haven't rode anything."
"We got the fast pass,
but it's not fast at all."
"Can you call somebody?
Can you do something?"
I said, "Who are you with?"
"Our cousins."
"Is your mother there?" "Yes."
"Put mom on the phone,
let me talk to mom."
Got their mom on the phone.
She said, "Hey, what's up?" "Hey."
"Checkmate, bitch." I hung up.
I was quick.
I haven't went over
these jokes with my ex-wife yet,
I wanna let you guys know.
These jokes are gonna come with
a price tag attached to 'em.
Probably have to buy her
a Tesla truck or something.
Something's gotta happen.
It's just a good fucking joke.
Those are two good jokes,
I can't get rid of 'em.
I thought about those jokes
for a long time.
I gotta let 'em fly.
It's worth the consequence.
I'll send her a couple of text messages
after this tape and see how she feels.
My wife says the same all the time,
"Kevin, you getting older."
"Getting angry, irritable."
I'm here to tell you I am getting older.
Forty-one now, guys.
I know, right?
Where does time go?
I was just 22 years old, man.
You do not realize how fast time flies.
Look back, all those
comedy specials on the wall,
that's a timeline of my fucking life.
That's damn near 16 years of comedy, man.
Sixteen fucking years
of comedy, like, it's insane.
Forty-one.
What happened?
Shit changes at the age of 40.
You hear about it,
but don't believe it, things change.
I'm here to tell you, shit does change.
Biggest change for me,
after the age of 40,
balls dropped. I got some length.
Got some fucking length on my balls.
I didn't ask for it.
Just happened.
I didn't even know. I was in the kitchen.
Bent over, wife said, "Why you
got dice in your back pocket?"
"I ain't got no fucking dice
in my back pocket."
Touched my back pocket,
"Goddamn, those are my fucking balls."
"How did my balls get in my back pocket?
What just happened to me?"
"How long was I asleep?"
"Who stretched me out while I was asleep?"
The biggest thing for me
is how content I am at this age, man.
I am okay.
I'm very serious, man.
I am okay. I don't need to do much.
I love being in the fucking house.
I actually built the house.
Me and my wife built the house,
that's where we wanted to stay.
We wanted to stay in this fucking house.
Let's build our dream house
to stay in it, not to leave it.
Women got a problem with doing this called
sitting the fuck down.
It's very difficult
for women to sit the fuck down.
Sit the fuck down.
That's a task for women.
A woman's favorite line,
"Let's go do some stuff."
"What stuff?" "Mmm-mmm. Something."
"The fuck are you saying?" "Something."
A bunch of men…
There's a bunch of men rejoicing. "Yeah!"
"Something, I don't know. Something."
You know what my wife's
biggest problem is? Chasing her past.
Trying to redo
what she did when she was younger.
Ladies, I'm here to give you
a personal message. It's okay to get old.
There's nothing wrong with getting old.
There's nothing wrong with it.
Stop fighting old age.
The beauty of getting older
is that you get to look back and realize
all the dope shit that you overcame,
that you did when you were younger.
That's dope.
Stop trying to run from that.
Stop trying to redo that. It's over.
It's fucking over.
She told me the other day,
"We should go out tonight, get fucked up."
I said, "Absolutely not.
No."
"Why would I do that? No."
"It hurts. It fucking hurts now."
Take a shot, it gets stuck in my chest
for three to five fucking minutes.
My left side shut down,
I get the shaking and shit.
I gotta fart or shit. I don't know,
one of 'em, something's happening.
Making dumbass faces.
I describe this to my wife
in great detail.
You know what her answer was?
"You don't never wanna have fun with me."
I said, "Bitch,
I just described a stroke to you."
"That's a stroke."
"That's a legal stroke.
I'm shutting down."
"You don't wanna have fun with me.
You don't ever want to do stuff."
After the age 40, you know what,
you lose a high level of care.
I don't really give a fuck.
My wife wanna go out, I don't.
"You go. I don't give a fuck."
"I'm serious.
I don't give a fuck what you do."
Not in a malicious or angry way.
I'm serious. I don't give a fuck. Go!
Have a good time. Go!"
Ladies, you don't know how
to not give a fuck, that's your problem.
If you guys could match
a man's not-give-a-fuck energy,
God, the world would be a better place.
It'd be a better place.
But you don't know how to not give a fuck.
Always searching for a fuck
'cause you just…
You can't. You don't process it.
You can't figure it out.
I'mma tell you your problem,
ladies, and listen closely.
Here's what makes a woman really mad.
You guys get upset if a man
does not give you the reaction
that you feel that you would give him.
I'mma say it again.
Ladies, you get upset
if a man does not give you the reaction
that you feel that you would give him.
Hence why you're always
searching for a give-a-fuck.
'Cause on the other side,
you're like, "I would give a fuck."
Yeah.
- "So you should give a fuck."
- Yeah.
That's why you search for give-a-fucks.
My wife constantly search for 'em.
She wants to go out. "Go out."
She can't just leave.
"All right, babe, I'm going out."
"Cool."
"Me and the girls."
"Got it."
"We probably getting fucked up tonight."
"Do you."
"I don't know what time we coming back."
"I'll be asleep either way, it's fine."
She's searching for give-a-fucks.
There are no give-a-fucks!
"Go!"
I'm excited for you to leave
so I can eat chips off my belly button.
I don't give a fuck.
"Go!"
They can't do it.
Hence you want the same from men.
You don't understand, first and foremost,
stop expecting us to be
as bright and brilliant as you.
If a man goes out and he's over
40 years old, I'm here to tell you,
there is no plan attached to that.
There is no fucking agenda.
There's no schedule.
Stop asking questions
because we don't have the answers.
Granted, I know some insecurities
are brought on because of men
and things they did in the past,
I'm guilty of it,
but after the age of 40, it goes away.
It goes away. We don't give a fuck
about shit. We don't care.
Stop looking for shit.
I told her… The one time
I said I was going out.
"Babe, I'm going out." "Where you going?"
"I don't even know yet."
"Who going with you?"
"Whoever, I guess, don't know."
"What y'all gonna do?"
"I'm trying to figure it out now.
I don't know what we're doing."
"Y'all gonna eat?"
"I hope so, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten."
"What time you back?"
"Whatever time we done."
"What the fuck is going on here?"
"Am I getting graded? What's this?
I don't have answers!"
"I'm failing miserably.
Stop asking me questions."
I can't fuckin' deal with it.
There's a high level
of insecurity sometimes
that's not worth you having, ladies.
We got into an argument one time.
Got into a fucking argument.
Two reasons.
First, she asked me this big question.
I had to explain I didn't know.
Another secret.
After men say, "We going out,"
we actually meet in the parking lot and
try to figure out what the fuck we doing.
We actually have
another meeting ourselves.
"What's the plan?" "Thought you had it."
"I don't, I thought you did."
"Nobody got a fuckin' plan? I'm out.
I'm not staying here doing this shit."
I go home, go to sleep.
I got back home early.
"Back early 'cause you was with a bitch."
"No, I wasn't!"
"I was in a parking lot at Home Depot
for 45 minutes…
talking about nothing,
which is why I came home."
I don't like fuckin' arguing.
I'm at an age where I don't argue,
I leave. That's my new move.
"You argue with yourself. I'll be back."
"I'll be back."
"Hopefully when I come back,
you ain't got no energy."
That's my fuckin' move.
We argued in the morning and I left.
It was 7:00 a.m.
She called, I'm in the car.
"You probably getting your dick sucked."
At 7:00 a.m.?
What bitch is that ambitious
that's out here at 7:00 a.m.…
sucking dick?
What type of daywalker do you think
I'm dealing with? Jesus Christ!
A 7:00 a.m. dicksucker on the loose,
that's got you worried?
What are you readin'?
What's the blog that told y'all to worry
about the dicksucker at 7:00 a.m.?
"Watch your man, ladies!"
"Since 7:00 a.m.,
dicksucker on the prowl!"
"Thanks, girl."
"I saw it on my…"
"I saw it on my security camera."
"Outside looking for dicks."
Came down…
"I saw her looking for dicks
on my security camera."
"Somewhere out there looking for dicks."
Shit that I deal with is unreal.
All my wife's insecurities dropped down
after she read my group chat.
Ladies, if you got a man
over 40 years old in this room,
I challenge you to check his phone
and read his group chat.
Do it!
Over 40? You should do it.
Under 40?
I don't recommend it, you gambling.
You fuckin' gambling.
Forty and above? Go, read it!
You will never read a more inconsistent
and unfocused conversation in your life.
All my group chat conversations
start off the same.
They all start off great.
"Yo!"
"See that picture of Rihanna's ass?"
"Goddamn."
"Shit!"
"Fuck!"
"I saw it."
Random question flies in the chat.
"If you run out of butter,
what else can I put in the pan?"
"What?"
"I ain't got no butter, man."
"What else can I use?"
"How'd you run out of butter?"
"I don't know, but it's gone."
Another statement flies in.
"I can't even eat butter.
It makes my gout act up."
"Gout?"
"When you get gout?" "I been had gout."
"I didn't know you had gout."
"I told y'all I had gout."
Another statement flies in the chat.
"What the fuck is gout?"
A picture from WebMD hit the chat.
Pow!
Description of gout
and what the fuck it can do.
"Goddamn, you got that?"
Then chat goes silent for five days.
Don't nobody saying shit.
Forty and up, the chat just die.
Nobody ends it.
Day six, they pick up where they left off.
"What else make your gout act up?"
My friend Joey don't know
how to use emojis.
That's how she thought
she had somethin' one time.
Joey's the older one,
Joey's the one with gout.
We tease him. "You gout-having bitch."
We just tease him.
He was getting mad in chat.
"I'm tired of y'all teasin' me."
"Y'all mad I'm doing the right thing
with my life. I'm getting healthy."
"I'm 'bout to go get me
a bunch of these now."
He put five eggplants back-to-back.
Then he put…
Then he put the tongue emoji
with the splash.
I said, "What the fuck…
are you talking about, Joey?"
"What are you talking about right now?"
"You just said you're about to go
take five dicks to the face…
and get them off.
That's what you just said."
"No, I didn't say that!"
"Yes, you did."
"Five eggplants, tongue, splash."
"You said you're taking it to the face,
finishing 'em off, that's what you said."
Fuckin' Joey.
Older you get, the more
direct and honest you get.
Me and my wife are at a very direct
and honest space in our relationship.
Very honest.
Very honest, man.
My wife told me the other day,
"Honey, your sex is no longer
what it used to be."
To my fuckin' face!
Ain't this a bitch?
We're in my home, I got no problem
being honest with y'all.
To my fuckin' face.
Told me my sex is falling off.
Know what my response was?
"Happens." That's what I said.
"Happens."
I don't give a shit.
Fucking 41, I don't got time
to be fuckin' all day.
I'm tired. I'm tired.
I don't believe you can be successful
and have good dick.
I said it. That's how I feel.
That's how I fuckin' feel.
I'm not taking it back. I said it.
I don't believe that you can be successful
and have good dick.
I told her, "Pick.
You want this life or good dick?"
"I'm not gonna do both. Not doing both."
"I'm not giving you both. Pick one."
When I had good dick,
I was broke, I had nothing.
I was out here fucking for transportation
when I had good dick.
Fuckin' for tokens.
Sick of walking.
I need to put down some good dick,
get in somebody's car around here.
It was cold in Philadelphia.
You don't know my life. Stop judging me.
But because you're married,
you gotta fuckin' compromise.
Gotta meet you halfway.
I told her, "You feel like
I need to do better sexually?"
"Pick a date."
"Pick a date."
On that date,
I'm required to give out some good dick.
You pick a date, on that date,
I'm required
to give out some good dick.
She picked the eighth of every month.
"All right.
"You better buckle the fuck up."
"I'm 'bout to drop some dick
on your ass like you never had."
"To thump your ass right now.
That's exactly what I'mma do."
It's all fun and games until the week of.
You get nervous as shit, man.
Friends saw it on my face, "You good?"
"No, I ain't good.
I gotta fuck in 5 days, man."
Gotta fuck her on the 8th.
I was out here drinking pineapple juice,
eating celery. I don't…
I don't know what the fuck
is happening to me.
Sweatin'. "Damn, man,
I gotta fuck in three days!"
Countdown.
Felt like I had the NBA Finals
coming up or some shit.
Icing my legs,
I didn't know what was happening.
The eighth came up, I did a good job.
A batch of good dick.
Thank you for the applause,
I appreciate it.
Sad that you felt like you had to clap,
but I'll take it.
"Thank God, Kevin. Jesus!"
My honesty backfired over there.
Ooh! Oh.
Gave out some good dick on the eighth.
In true woman fashion, on the ninth,
she tried to get some more.
It's not our agreement.
That's not the deal we made.
I said one date.
Every other day
could be trashy dick or not.
You don't fuckin' expect
the same thing again.
After my fuckin' bedtime,
she come in 8:30 p.m., drunk as shit.
It's late.
Trying to wake me up, "Get up."
"Trying to get some dick."
"Trying to get more of that 8th dick."
That's what she said.
"I want some more of that eighth dick.
Let me get some of that eighth dick."
I snap, "Get the fuck off me,
get your hands off of me."
"Coming here this late at night
waking me up."
"Waking the dog up."
Older you get, you care more
about animals than anything else.
"The dog ain't had a good night's sleep
in two weeks, you come in here all loud?"
"Pissed off,
I'm very pissed off right now."
Me and the dog went downstairs, slept.
Slept in the guest room.
"Not gonna stay with you
and your selfishness
'cause you want some more
of that 8th dick."
"You just lost a month
is what you just did."
Took the next eighth off the contract
is what I did.
You know what makes me laugh?
Hearing other people talk about sex.
That's enough for me.
Hearing other people talk about sex,
funniest shit in the world.
Funniest people to listen to
talk about sex, my nephews.
My nephews are 21, 22 years old.
It's the funniest shit
that you'll ever hear, man.
Funniest shit you'll ever hear,
but they don't offer the information,
you gotta bait it out of them.
You gotta set a trap,
see if they fall for it.
I set the trap, they fall in every time.
I come in the room, hot.
"Y'all ain't fuckin' yet."
Take the bait every time.
"Who ain't fuckin'?"
Every time. "Who ain't fuckin'?"
"I know you ain't sayin' me.
I know you ain't sayin' I ain't fuckin'."
"I'm fuckin'!"
"I know you ain't sayin' me."
"Go ahead, Unc."
"You ain't fuckin', bitch."
"I know your young ass ain't fuckin'."
"I'm fuckin', Unc."
"Tell me what you doing."
"No, I ain't telling you."
"I tell you, you'll put it
in your comedy show."
"I ain't talking about you, shut up."
"What would I put you
in my comedy show for?"
"I got jokes, I don't need you."
"What you doing? Give me
the nastiest thing you've done."
"No judging?" "No judging."
"Fuck I'mma judge you for?"
"All right."
"Nastiest thing I've done…"
"Went to the movies with this girl."
"We go to the movies, she tell me
to get a large bucket of popcorn."
"I get the bucket of popcorn, I sit down,
she cut a hole in the bottom,
told me put my dick through the hole,
gave me a butter beat-off."
I said, "What the fuck?"
Listen, I caught myself,
I had to act like I knew what it was.
Ha-ha! Ah.
"A butter beat-off."
"I know that's right."
"A butter beat-off."
You know you older
'cause you ask the wrong questions.
"Fuck y'all get a large for?
Why you waste that popcorn?"
"You should've just got the small."
"It's a $12, $14 difference.
Why you get that?"
"Butter don't get in your hole?
Like an infection waiting to happen."
"It's how you catch the VID.
You gonna get the VID."
"Get the 'VID-19 doing that shit,
putting the butter in your hole."
"You don't want butter in your hole."
I ran home and told my wife.
"Ain't gonna believe this shit."
"Terrence told me these kids out here
giving each other butter beat-offs."
She said, "They still do that?"
I said, "What the fuck is happening here?"
"Who are you?"
I don't wanna know no more.
You just stop right there.
My kids better not be doing it,
I know that much.
If I find out my kids do it,
I'll have a goddamn fit.
You can't just ask your kids, though.
You gotta, once again…
Set the trap, see if they step in it.
We at dinner, eating a good dinner
at the house, nice dinner.
I throw question out to my wife,
"We should go to the movies."
"Maybe you can give a butter beat-off."
I look right at my fuckin' daughter.
Right at my daughter.
Staring at her ass.
She didn't budge. Cool as a fan,
eating her food and shit.
I've never been more proud as a father.
Thank you, God.
Thank you, God,
she don't even know what it is.
Thank you, God.
Turn this way,
my son was like, "Oh, yeah."
He said, "Yeah!"
"You better get the large, Dad."
"You don't want butter in the hole,
you'll catch the 'VID!"
"Again. You don't want it twice."
"You don't want back-to-back
cases of the 'VID, Dad."
My wife actually beat me up,
made me take her on a date.
Took her to a dinner party.
I'm not name-dropping, but this joke
doesn't make sense unless I…
drop the name.
I went to Seinfeld's house
for a dinner party.
Some of the best food I've ever had.
Food was fuckin' amazing, man.
At the end of the party,
Seinfeld came walking out.
He was like,
"Nobody go anywhere."
"You guys are in for a treat. Tonight…
we're gonna have some brick-oven pizza."
Everybody went crazy.
"What? Oh, my God! Brick-oven pizza?"
"What?"
One lady was like,
"How many cheeses, Jerry?"
Jerry's like, "Seven different cheeses."
"Seven different cheeses."
People went crazy.
By the way, people were white.
These are all fuckin' white people.
They start chanting, "BOP!"
The fuck is "BOP," man?
"BOP!"
What the fuck is "BOP"?
White woman leans over the table,
she's like, "Short for brick-oven pizza."
I was like, "Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit."
"Oh, okay, I get it."
Seinfeld has some Italian men walk out.
They had pizza-like garb on.
They start passing out pizza
saying Italian shit…
I don't know Italian.
It just dawned on me, as I told that joke,
what I'm doing is racist right now.
I apologize.
People eating the pizza, going crazy.
"Oh, my God. I taste the cheeses, Jerry."
"I taste the cheeses."
They brought me my pizza. I took a bite.
I couldn't believe it.
Best pizza I've ever had in my life.
Best fucking pizza I've ever had.
It had some type of lettuce on it.
I've never tasted this shit.
Told my wife, "It's got some type
of lettuce. Wait till you taste it."
This white woman leaned over again,
she was like, "It's arugula."
"What?"
"It's arugula."
"Oh, shit."
I took another bite. I got caught up.
"BOP, BOP, BOP."
"BOP, BOP…"
What an amazing night.
Fucking amazing night,
from start to finish, man.
In the car, I was pissed.
I was pissed, you know why?
Because I wanted what Seinfeld had.
I wanted that fucking moment, man.
Seinfeld was known as
the brick-oven-pizza guy.
He was known for something else
outside of his fame.
I wanted that.
What really pissed me off
was that the same people who
built Seinfeld's house built my house.
Not once was I offered the option
of getting a brick pizza oven
at my goddamn house.
This was racism at the highest level.
It's fucking racist.
Next morning comes,
I call the contractors.
I come in hot, "You racist fucks!"
"For you guys to offer Seinfeld
the option of getting a brick pizza oven
and not even bringing it up to me
shows just how racist you are."
"You better make it right
or it's gonna get worse for you."
I hang up the phone. Pow!
They call back,
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about.
Black lives matter."
Hung up again. Pow.
Within a day, they're at my house.
Had a blueprint
of what my pizza oven can look like.
Within a week,
I had a brick pizza oven
in the back of my house.
Once again, I wanted what Seinfeld had.
I invited all my friends over.
I'm gonna have a dinner party,
like Seinfeld did.
My friends finish eating.
I come out at the end of dinner
the same way Seinfeld did.
"All right."
"Nobody go anywhere
because you guys
are in for a treat tonight."
"We're gonna have
some brick-oven pizza tonight."
You hear murmurs around the room.
"Fuck is he talking about?
I ain't eating no pizza off no brick."
Everybody at my party is Black.
These are all Black people.
"Order Domino's.
I'm not eating that shit."
I said,
"Now, I know what you're thinking."
"How many cheeses?"
"Seven different cheeses."
More murmurs.
"I'm lactose intolerant.
I'm not eating all that fucking cheese."
"Everyone knows you only put
that much cheese on macaroni."
"I'm not gonna eat that.
What's his problem?"
I said, "Everybody get up. Go outside,
that's where the brick-oven pizza is."
More murmurs. "It's cold as shit outside.
I'm not going outside."
Black people got a response
for every thing.
"Not gonna do that. Not going outside."
I said, "Come on, say it with me,
'BOP, BOP, BOP.'"
My friend Jamal stood up in the back, "Oh,
if you got some BOP outside, I'm going."
Na'im said, "What the fuck is BOP?"
He said, "Man, he got some
big old pussy out there. I'm goin'."
I said, "No, Jamal,
ain't no big old pussy out there."
"Yes, it is. That's what BOP is."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. I was with you."
"We was in Atlanta, that big bitch said,
'Wanna see my BOP?'"
"What's that?"
"And she was like, 'Big old pussy.'"
"Me and you start tipping her."
"I ain't got no ones
but I want to see it again."
Everybody left.
I never got my moment.
I did not get my moment.
Keep in mind, I wanted that.
I wanna be known for something
outside my fucking fame, man.
I wanted be known as Kevin Hart,
the brick-oven-pizza guy,
and the moment was gone.
I had to find a new hobby.
Searched hard for a new hobby, too.
I was road biking for a minute.
Getting miles in on the bike.
I stopped, though.
The reason why I stopped,
I didn't like the way my dick looked
in the outfit. True story.
Looked like I had a clit,
I didn't like it.
'Tween that and long balls,
it was bad combination.
Shit just didn't look right.
When you stop at a light,
you gotta click out.
You gotta snap out, like,
"Hey, what's up?"
Cars were slowing down.
"Fuck you slowing down for, man?
Get out here! Stop looking."
This lady slowed down. It was 7 a.m.
I said, "Get outta here.
I know what you want."
"Daywalker. Get your ass out of here."
"Ain't no dicks out here for you, lady.
Get out of here, daywalker."
"Get out of here."
I started boxing.
Boxing became a hobby.
I started because I felt like it was
something I could get better at every day.
Every day, I can get good.
It's me against me.
Went and found a trainer.
The guy had amazing talent
underneath his belt.
Golden Glove fighters,
Junior Olympics… I mean,
there's so much, lightweight champions.
I said, "I know you're not working,
but I'll pay you good money to train me."
He said, "If you take me on,
I'll make you the best fighter ever."
I said, "That's too much."
"I don't want that.
I just want to get good."
He said, "Done." He became my trainer.
Gotta be honest with you.
He was fucking good.
Made me good.
Told me shit I thought I would never hear.
Compared me to boxers I've never heard of,
but it still was a compliment.
Told me I reminded him
of a fighter named Lefty Lou Earl.
He's like, "Kevin, do you know
who that is?" I said, "I do not."
He said, "I'mma bring you a tape."
"You got a VCR?"
"No, I do not."
Then he made me laugh
when I told him I didn't have one.
He was like…
Like… Like I was in the wrong year.
"Can't believe you don't have a VCR.
Goddamn."
"Why do you still have a VCR, sir?"
Told me I have
one of the best jabs he's ever seen.
Said, "Your jab reminds me
of lightning coming from your shoulders."
"Lightning coming from
your fucking shoulders."
"You thought about fighting?"
I said, "No."
"What about sparring?"
I said, "No, but I would."
"That's all I need to hear.
Tomorrow. 6 a.m. I'll set you up."
"You need to see how good you are."
6 a.m., I come to the gym.
He got a guy there, my height, my build.
Got my head gear,
my codpiece, my mouthpiece.
Puts it all on me. Starts putting Vaseline
all on my face and my headgear.
I said, "What's this for?"
He said, "So the punches slide off."
"Well, we never talked… Okay."
"We didn't discuss that, but all right."
"Okay. If that's what it's gonna do,
then that's what it's gonna do."
He's done putting Vaseline on. Walks out.
I said, "You didn't do him yet."
He said, "He's okay. He don't need it."
"Huh. All right."
That's weird. Okay, whatever.
I'm gonna go with the flow.
He said, "We're gonna do three
three-minute rounds.
Nobody's here to hurt anybody.
Have a good time. Keep it loose."
He yells out, "Take it easy on him."
I assume he's talking to me.
Gotta be talking to me.
I yelled back, "Gotcha, coach."
Put a confident laugh behind it. "Ha, ha!"
We get to our corners. Bell rings. Ding.
I come out.
I want him to see that I could fight.
You could tell I can fight
by the way I hold my shoulders.
Look how I'm moving. Hmm?
My feet are spaced apart.
Look at my foot move.
Look how I'm moving, bitch.
Ain't gonna be no cakewalk. Mh-hm.
Yeah, you see it. He flatfooted.
Oh!
He's not even on the balls of his foot.
I'm gonna whoop his ass.
I'm getting more confidence
as I move around.
My coach says, "Kevin, stop playing.
Let your hands go."
All right.
"Ask and you shall receive."
I hope he got the Weather Channel,
'cause this is about to be some lightning.
When you throw a jab, you take a step.
Take a step,
let the jab go at the same time.
Turn it over. Every time.
That's how you throw it.
I take my step.
I'm about to turn it over. I'm here.
Here it is. About to turn that bitch over.
Better brace yourself. Here it come.
Ooh. It's coming. Right here.
I'm right here,
but I'm about to get here. Here I am,
but I'm about to get right there.
Better brace yourself.
I'm right here. Before I did that…
…he hit me.
I immediately lost my vision.
Immediately. I went blind immediately.
Couldn't see shit. Everything was black.
Aah…
Aaah!
I read that you could get brain damage
or die from a punch.
I just lost my fucking vision.
I don't have eyesight no more.
I can't see. I panicked. I turned around.
I've been known
to do this move several times.
I start punching backwards.
I've talked about it in my past specials.
I'm a backwards puncher. When I panic,
I fucking start punching.
My trainer said, "Kevin, throw the jab,
throw the jab!"
I said, "For what… liar?"
It ain't lightning
unless he's a storm tracker, okay?
Because this is fucking ridiculous.
I'm blind. I can't see shit.
Aah!
I'm blind.
"Ring the bell. Ring the fucking bell."
The bell rings.
I can't get to the corner.
I gotta follow his voice to the corner.
Aah!
As I get to the corner, my trainer,
he's like, "What's wrong?"
I said, "I'm blind. I can't fucking see."
He just lift my head gear up…
Apparently, when he hit me,
he knocked my head gear over my eyes.
It was black, so I was just looking
at the back of it the whole time.
He's like, "Why didn't you lift it up?"
I said, "Because we never
went over that in practice."
"I think you put too much Vaseline on me."
"That's why
I was sliding all over the place."
"Sliding all over the place.
I don't wanna do this no more."
"You're gonna quit?"
"I don't call it that,
"I just wanna do something else."
"What you gonna tell him?"
I said, "I'm never talking to him again
in my fucking life."
"My lawyer will talk to him.
He's going to jail."
"I bet you that.
He's going to fucking jail after this."
"What he did to me was assault.
That's what the fuck this was."
"Assault at the highest level."
I quit. Walked away from boxing that day.
Walked away. Never went back.
Later on, I decided
to look up some tape on Lefty Lou Earl.
I went and found this guy.
I wanted to know who he was.
Who are you comparing me to?
After that display of boxing that I gave,
I wanted to see who the fuck
was like me or who was I like?
Turns out Lefty Lou Earl had one arm.
He was a handicapped fighter.
He was one in 38.
His one win came from disqualification.
He got knocked out,
they kicked him in the face.
That's why they gave him the "W."
He had a squeaky voice.
So my trainer was talking
about my voice all this time.
Nothing to do with my fighting style.
Just so happened to compare me
to a handicapped fighter.
I know, I'm gonna get a lot of shit after
this joke from fucking one-armed people.
I guess, they'll cancel me next,
I don't know.
Good news is their rally won't last long
'cause they can't hold them signs
for too long.
'Cause they only got one…
They're gonna get tired.
They gotta put them arms down.
Unless they coordinate it right with
equal amount of right and left hands,
they're not gonna get
their message across to cancel me.
So… that's some good news.
Maybe I should take that one out.
Let's take that one out.
Gonna get canceled for that one.
Fuck it.
Fuck it. I'm in my house.
I'm gonna say what the fuck I want.
It's a joke.
It's a joke.
I was so happy, man, after that spar,
because that was the first sign
that I was back to myself of old.
I started sparring after my accident.
You don't know, a year ago,
I got into a car accident.
Almost fucking died, man.
Damn near paralyzed. Bad shit happened.
I was in a hospital for a minute.
Thought about a lot.
'Cause I thought about a lot,
I can now ask you things
that I know you haven't thought about.
Question number one is,
do you have an ass wiper in your life?
Think about it.
An ass wiper.
Somebody that will wipe your ass
if shit hit the fan
for the rest of your life, if need be.
You don't think you need it
until you fucking need it.
After surgery, I didn't go to the bathroom
for eight days. I was constipated.
They wouldn't let me leave
until I went to the bathroom.
Had to make sure my organs were working.
I had somebody by my side
every single day.
On day nine, there was a 20-minute gap
when I was by myself.
During this gap, it felt like somebody
threw a stick of dynamite
in my fucking stomach
and that bitch exploded.
Boo! Uh-oh.
Uh-oh. I gotta go.
Gotta go to the fucking bathroom.
Can't move my legs. I can't move my arms.
There's nobody there.
I start pressing the help button. "Help!"
"Help! Help!"
"Help! Somebody gotta help!"
José came running in the room.
José was a 60-year-old Mexican nurse.
"What's up, my friend?"
"José.
I gotta go to the bathroom, man, now.
I gotta go right now."
"I got you, man.
I'll take care of you. I'll get you good."
José grabbed my legs, grabs my upper body,
picks me up, sits me on the toilet
that was right next to the bed.
After he sits me on the toilet,
José took two giant steps backwards,
folded his arms,
was looking me in the eye,
rocking back and forth like this.
"Oh, no.
The fuck is happening, José?
I gotta go, man. Why you still here?"
Then it dawned on me, "Oh, my God…
José's gotta wipe my ass."
"Oh, this is rock bottom. This is it."
"This is rock fucking bottom. I'm here.
It can't get worse than this."
When I say that, José decides
to say things that make me feel better.
"Don't worry, man.
I'm gonna wipe you good, okay?"
"I'm gonna wipe you good, okay, man?"
"I got you. You're in good hands with me.
I'mma wipe you good, okay, man?"
At this point, I'm fucking in disbelief.
I just can't believe what's happening.
I can't hold it. I just go. I start going.
José decides to cheer me on.
"Good, good, good."
"You gotta get it out, man."
"You gotta get it out, man."
"Eight days' a long time
for anybody, man."
I get done going,
José grabs my right arm, rolls me over.
José starts wiping my ass.
At this point,
a single tear rolls down my fucking cheek.
I'm crying.
The reason I'm crying is because
my arms are numb, my legs are numb.
But I couldn't figure out
why God would leave feeling
in the space of my ass.
Why not numb that up, too?
Why let me feel
what the fuck is happening?
At the lowest point of my life,
why feel José wiping my ass?
Crying uncontrollably at this point.
José decides to say something else.
"It's okay, man.
This is crazy, man. I know."
"Imagine how I feel, man."
"I can't believe
I'm wiping Kevin Hart's ass, man."
"This is crazy."
"It's my first famous ass, man."
Guys, this has been
such an amazing night of fucking comedy.
Dude, it's been a great night.
Such a great, intimate night.
We shared so much.
I love it. It's such a different vibe.
It's a comfortable vibe. It's a sexy vibe.
More importantly,
it was a vibe that I got to be myself in,
but I don't want you guys to leave
with just laughter from jokes.
I feel like I can give you more.
I want you to know me for more, okay?
'Cause I got more. I got more.
With that being said,
I hope you guys are ready for some BOP.
Bring out the BOP. That's right.
Brick-oven pizza for everybody.
BOP! Yes, that's right.
I got some BOP for you.
I see you.
BOP!
Yes! Thank you guys so much.
What an amazing night.
BOP! BOP!
Oh!
What's wrong with you, boy?
- I just had the the craziest dream.
- Oh, my gosh.
- No, it was crazy.
- It's okay.
No, it's not.
I dreamt that I was on stage,
and doing stand up
about stuff that I would never say.
I-I called my daughter a ho.
I called my son dumb.
I said I don't like private school
and the plant-based community was wilin'.
- Ah…
- All right.
I went through this whole phase
where I said I was at Seinfeld's house.
I ain't never been to Seinfeld's house.
I said, I said--
Go back to sleep.
You were just having a bad nightmare.
- Just a nightmare, right?
- Yeah.
It was just… It was just a nightmare.
Yes, go back to sleep, please.
You ever had BOP?
No?
- What's up?
I was looking
all over the house for y'all.
We're chilling.
About to go downstairs,
get some work done. What up, champ?
Finish your homework?
- No.
- Look in my eyes.
You're lying.
Finish your homework.
Stop playing with me.
Zo, give Daddy two.
Ah, ah. Give me a boom.
Boom! Give me a headbutt.
Give me a kiss.
- Why're you looking at me?
- Love you.
- Give me a kiss.
- Okay.
- Love you.
- Heaven, finish your work?
Yes, for the most part.
See you when I come back up.
- Bye!
- Bye.
- Bye, Dad.
- Pow!
Ooh.
Daddy about to have a good time.
Big cube, coming in. Taste it.
Mmm.
Ha-ya! Heh. Yeah.
Hey.
Wow!
The GOAT. Legend.
Inspiration.
My man.
Aww. So nice.
So nice.
Oh, man!
Well, thank you. Thank you.
Well, thank you. Thank you!
Much appreciated. Stop it.
Sit down.
Sit down.
I appreciate it. Thank you.
Hello. Hi.
I can say hello. First time
I've been this intimate with a crowd.
So I can say hello and I can get
a hello-like response back.
I'mma say it again.
Hello. How y'all doing? Good?
Good. I like it.
This feels right to me.
- This feels right.
- Yeah!
I've been in a lot of
different spaces to tell some jokes.
Been in fucking stadiums,
arenas, theaters.
This right now feels right, in the comfort
of my own fucking home. Thank you.
Thank you.
Getting back to the basics.
I wanna explain to you, guys,
why I'm actually in my house.
We're here for a reason.
I'm no longer comfortable
anywhere else but my house.
I'm being very fucking honest
with you guys. I am not comfortable
anywhere except my house.
And it's for a lot of reasons.
We should get into those.
Address the elephant in the room.
Reason number one, COVID.
COVID.
Where you at right now?
Where's your panic level?
High? In the middle? Low?
Where you at? Be honest, let me know.
Middle? High? Low?
Kind of high? A little bit?
News flash. I had it!
That's right, I had the 'VID.
The 'VID-19 was in my system.
I had it in the beginning when it
wasn't cool, when it wasn't a trend.
It was me and Tom Hanks.
We was the only two.
I had to keep it a secret
because Tom Hanks
is a much bigger star than I am.
He will swallow my fucking announcement.
He's Forrest Gump. You're not
gonna beat Forrest Gump. No shot.
No fucking shot I'mma beat Forrest Gump.
If it was somebody lesser than, I would've
dropped that bitch in a heartbeat.
David Hasselhoff. Fuck David Hasselhoff.
Ain't nobody give a shit
about David Hasselhoff.
Boom! Dropped it.
"Kevin Hart's got it, too.
Save Kevin Hart.
You know why I call it the 'VID?
It's the closest thing to AIDS.
It just sounds as dangerous as AIDS.
The 'VID. "You got the 'VID? Fuck, man!"
"I got the 'VID."
"You got the 'VID? Shit!"
"Praying for you.
You got the fucking 'VID."
I didn't know I had it.
I didn't know I had it, man.
I had no symptoms at all.
No fever, no headache,
no body aches, nothing.
Now, my wife lost her sense
of taste and her sense of smell.
She told me, "Babe, I think I got it.
We should get tested."
I said, "Well, we don't have a problem."
"You got the fucking problem.
Why do I have to get tested?"
"I can taste and smell fine.
Why the fuck do I gotta get tested?"
Doctor came over to the house.
Doctor came over, tested both of us.
Said, "You guys are both positive."
I said, "Bullshit."
"Bullshit! No way I'm fucking positive."
I immediately touched my nose twice.
Ah, ah. "Could I do that?"
"If I had the 'VID, could I fucking
do this two times in a row?"
Can't touch your nose
with the 'VID. Everybody knows that.
Said, "Mr. Hart, I'm very serious.
You're positive."
This caused an uproar
in my household, immediately.
Me and my wife go at each other's throats,
"Who the fuck
brought the 'VID up in this house?"
"Who was it?"
Got to see how we felt
about each other's friends.
"It was that nasty bitch Pam you
always hanging with. That's who did it."
"Dirty-foot bitch."
"Her feet dirty. She tracked the 'VID
all through the goddamn house."
"Dirty-foot Pam did it."
"Got the fucking 'VID
all in this goddamn house."
"Wash the carpets immediately."
Doctor calmed me down, "Calm down, Kevin."
"It'll pass.
Take ten to fourteen days. Relax."
"Chill out. Drink some tea."
That's what the doctor
told me to my fucking face.
"Drink some tea."
Are you kidding me?
"I got the fucking 'VID, Doc!"
"The hell is tea gonna do for me?"
"Where's my ventilator?"
That's what I said. "Where is it?"
"I'm supposed to get a ventilator.
Everybody knows that."
"You get a ventilator with the 'VID.
That's what they say in the blogs."
"You'll be fine, Mr. Hart,
you'll be fine."
When the doctor told me that,
my level of panic lowered.
I was at the highest level
in the beginning.
Oh, my God.
When it first hit,
oh, my fucking God,
I didn't know what to do.
I went and put gas
in all the fucking cars.
Gotta be able to escape.
Motherfuckers turning into zombies here.
I was scared.
Went and bought all the water
and toilet paper I could find.
Still don't know why
we went on this toilet paper kick.
What was so special about toilet paper?
Nobody told me.
Did the 'VID make you shit?
What was it? What…
We bought all the fucking toilet paper.
Dry noodles, I got it all!
The mask, I went crazy with the mask.
In the beginning,
I didn't know what mask to buy.
Had a regular mask.
My friend told me, "Hey, man,
that ain't the right mask,
the 'VID gonna get through that mask."
"That mask ain't gonna
protect you against the 'VID."
"Fuck!
Are you serious?"
"I'm serious. You gotta get the N95s."
"Oh, shit."
Went on a website,
I bought every N95 I saw.
I spent 20 grand on N95s.
Went outside the day after, I saw
a nigga with a titty cup on his face.
Wasn't even a…
With a bra strap.
What the fuck? That's not a N95.
That's a A-cup bra.
What the hell just happened?
He didn't spend 20 grand on that. No way.
Somebody duped me, man.
My wife told me flat-out,
"Babe, you know what?"
"This is messing with your head.
You gotta get out this house."
"You gotta get out the house."
I said, "There is nothing
outside this house for me."
"Nothing. There's no reason
for me to go outside this house."
"No shot."
"The things outside this house,
I have no interest in."
"There's people out there.
I don't like people." I said it.
Cat's out the bag.
I don't fucking like people anymore.
You won. You beat me up.
You fucking won, man.
You know how?
Because you guys have managed to
fuck up the best job in the world, man.
At one point in time,
fame was the most sought-after
and best job on the fucking planet.
If you didn't have it,
you wanted a piece of it.
You wanted to taste a little bit of it.
I got it.
I got to the highest level of it,
and then you fucked me,
oh, you fucked me good.
Oh, this generation fucked me good.
Everything's gotta be compromised.
Everything's gotta be videoed
in this generation.
If it's not on video, it never happened.
That's how this generation lives.
Let me tell you guys the scariest thing
that you could do to a Black man in 1986
if you were the cops or the feds.
Scariest thing that you could do is tell
a Black man that you had him on tape.
If the feds came up, "We got
your ass on tape. You going to jail."
He'll shit himself, "What? Who? Me?"
"On tape?"
Oh! He'd start crying.
"I'm on fucking tape."
"All y'all going to fucking jail.
We got all y'all on tape."
He'll tell all his friends,
"Come out, Calvin, Marcus, Terrence."
"They got us. Anthony, you, too."
"Said they got us all on tape.
We're going to jail, apparently."
"We're going to fucking jail."
"We on tape."
That's all the feds had to say,
"Got your ass on tape."
Scariest thing you could do.
You guys don't even realize
that you're the feds… for free.
You're not even getting paid.
For fucking free.
You're just telling on people
all goddamn day.
Just a bunch of walking fucking snitches.
It's disgusting.
It's disgusting.
I went to McDonald's…
This is a true story.
I go to McDonald's.
I'm at the drive-through, right?
I want a Big Mac Meal.
I haven't had one in so long.
I'm so excited for this fucking Big Mac.
Oh, my God,
I can't wait to get this Big Mac.
I get the Big Mac. I'm excited.
I pull over in the parking lot.
I start fucking the Big Mac up.
Smashing it.
It's all over my face, everything.
I'm happy as hell.
I turn to my left, a woman
outside the window taping me.
She said, "Got your ass."
I got nervous.
"What the fuck is you doing, lady?"
She said, "Mmm-mmm. But I got your ass."
"What the fuck you mean, got my ass?
What am I doing?"
I'm so nervous, I dropped the burger.
I just dropped the fucking burger.
I grabbed my phone, I went to Twitter,
I issued an apology via social media.
I said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The reason why I apologized is
because two days earlier, I announced
that I was going
plant-based full-time. I'd just said it.
This video was detrimental to
everything that I stood for at the moment.
Had to issue an apology
to the plant-based community.
Became an ally.
Made a donation, was a part of protest.
I had to do what I could.
Stood by the side of cows,
took pictures. It was a lot.
I don't like what you guys
have made me become.
I don't like it.
I'm no longer comfortable.
You switched it on me.
Fuck!
You switched it on me, man.
For the longest time, celebrities
looked at people as the weird people.
"Them motherfuckers
get weird sometimes, man."
"People get weird."
That's how we looked at people.
You switched it.
We're the weird people now.
You look at us,
"What the fuck is wrong with him?"
We're the weird people.
I don't know how to act in public.
"Why are you staring?"
"What's going on, man?"
I think everybody knows.
"Get your hands out your pocket."
"What's happening? Come on."
"Fuck you about to do to me?
You about to eat me? Come on."
"The fuck you talking about?
Nobody worried about your ass."
"Bullshit. Look at that guy
looking at me in his glasses."
"I know somebody thinks I'm dinner
when I see it. They trying to eat me."
Making crazy accusations
all over the fucking place.
Losing my mind. Going crazy.
You guys got me living my life
like a successful drug dealer.
It's a true story. True story.
There was a time,
if you wanted to come to talk to me,
you had to get naked.
Get in the fucking pool.
How else would I know that you're
not wearing a wire? "Who you with?"
"E!? People? Who the fuck is you with?"
"Came for a story for tabloids.
I don't trust you, Dad."
"I'm your father." "Shut up, bitch!"
"Who you been talking to, Dad?"
"Get in the pool."
"Finish this conversation in six feet."
"Switch that. Four.
Go to four feet. I can't see. Go to four."
This is where I am.
This is where I am.
My wife says the same things,
"Honey, you're getting old."
"Getting angry, irritable.
Need to get out and get back to yourself."
"Get back to your ways of old.
You can't live like this."
I decided to do stand-up again.
I said, "Baby, you're right. I need to go,
start doing stand-up comedy again."
That's how I get back to myself.
That's how I get back to me.
I told my friends I was
gonna start doing comedy again.
They said, "Gonna talk
about wife and kids again?"
I said, "What else do I have?"
I don't have nothing else.
All my bitches left after the sex tape.
Every bitch I had, left.
Every one of them. "Where you going,
Lorraine? Gladys? Pearl?"
"Where you going?"
These are older names
'cause I had older bitches at the time.
"Get back here, Ethel. Come on, man."
"Don't do this to me."
"Magnus, come on, please."
"Please don't do this."
"Loretta, you can't leave. Come on."
What else do I have?
I have to.
Talking about my kids is a must, man.
A must. They're part of my everyday life.
I don't know what else to talk about,
outside of the things
that I go through on the daily.
My kids are with me on a daily.
Two teenagers, one three-year-old,
a baby that could be here any day now.
Any fucking day now.
About to throw these balls in the trash.
I ain't having no more fucking babies.
I'mma roof these balls
after this fucking baby come.
I'mma take both balls,
throw them on the fucking roof.
You can kiss my ass
thinking another child is coming
out of these balls, I promise.
You're a liar if you say it's my baby.
Balls in the trash after this baby.
My daughter and I are
closer than we've ever been.
My daughter's boy crazy.
Boy crazy.
Once again, I gotta act like I like it.
I don't. You gotta act like you do.
I love that, in my specials, you get
to see the growth of my fucking kids.
You see their development.
They're getting older, man.
Daughter told me she likes
this boy named Matt at her school.
"Dad, I like this boy named Matt.
Oh, my God. He's so cute."
"He makes me laugh. I want him."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"What does that mean?"
"I want him." "What the fuck
are you saying, little girl?"
"Should I tell him?"
"If that's how you feel, tell him."
She goes to school,
tells him how she feels, comes home,
"Dad, oh, my God. Guess what?
Matt likes me back. We're a thing."
"Good for you, honey. Makes me happy."
"Do me a favor, keep it
in the kid space, though."
"Okay, Dad."
She comes back home two days later.
"Dad, I don't like Matt no more.
I like this boy named Rob now."
"He look better, make me laugh more.
That's who I really want."
"It happens.
Sometimes you think you like somebody,
you meet somebody else, you realize
that's the person you liked all along."
"It's called life."
"Make it happen. Move on.
Be honest with the other person."
"Right, Dad, I love you."
"Keep it in the kid space."
A week goes by.
"Dad, I don't like Rob no more."
"I like this boy named Tim."
Instantly, in my mind,
I said, "My daughter a ho.
This is ho shit."
"This is ho shit."
Ho activity right in front of my face.
I immediately called a ho
that I knew from the past.
Asked her if this is how
it went down for her.
Three boys back-to-back.
She said, "Yup, the same way."
"Next thing I knew, I was plucking balls
in the bathroom." What's happening?
Don't want my baby plucking balls.
I gotta save her.
I gotta see these boys.
Went to school.
Wanted to see what they look like.
I saw 'em.
Saw Matt first. Gotta be honest.
Charming little kid,
personality was out of this world.
I see why she likes Matt.
I see it. I get it.
Charming little boy. I get it.
Personality, funny guy.
I see why you like Matt. I get it.
Then Rob walked in. Rob walked in.
I didn't look at Matt again.
I forgot all about Matt.
Who the fuck is Matt?
Rob had a different thing.
Personality popped.
Had a bunch of pizzazz, flair.
Used his hands a lot when he talked.
This kid's got something.
I see why she don't like fucking Matt.
Then Tim walked in.
Tim had on leather pants…
with Heelys.
Know how confident you gotta be
to wear leather pants in high school?
Black kid with leather pants.
There's no Black kid
that I've ever heard about
that wore leather pants
outside of Lenny Kravitz.
That's the only Black man.
And it's a rumor that
Lenny did it at a young age.
Tim had Heelys on,
just slid through the fucking room.
Jesus Christ, man.
Cigarettes under his arms.
I said, "Do you smoke?"
He said, "It's a look,"
as he was gliding by me.
Fuck.
Kids today are different.
My son and daughter
are on two different pages.
Shit makes me laugh. Always have been.
Always have been
two completely different pages.
My son is… He's what you call…
What do they call it today?
What are kids called today,
when the kids are…
Dumb. There it is. I got it. Dumb.
Struggling academically.
You are like, "Don't call your kid dumb."
Why not? He's mine.
Chip off the old fucking block.
Not like I'm standing up here as
a smart-ass. I was dumb as shit, too.
Worked out for me so far.
Dumb is the way to go in my household.
It's the right way to go.
Then it pisses me off
as the school constantly calls me
to remind me of my son's
educational problems.
"Mr. Hart, he failed another test."
"Mr. Hart, his grades are dropping."
"Want to discuss your son's grades?"
"They continue to drop."
I snapped on 'em, "Don't call me no more."
"Don't call me about
his grades no more. Call him."
"Call him. That's his problem.
Not my problem."
"Last I checked, I went to school.
I passed. I'm successful.
Not going to school again.
He needs to fucking pass
that class, not me."
"Call him."
Private schools, man,
they got this weird thing.
Not much of a fan
of private schools, honest.
I am not a fan of private schools at all.
My kids attend private schools.
Doesn't mean I'm a fan of it.
I feel like private schools
protect kids from reality.
They protect you.
They protect you from fucking reality.
Private school…
Private schools breed bitches.
That's how I feel. I said it.
I'm not taking it back.
That's how I fucking feel.
Private schools breed bitches.
I'm in my comfort zone,
I'mma let it fly today.
Everything that I fucking feel, I'mma say.
You ever see a grown man get punched
in the face that went to private school?
He immediately looks for a teacher.
He just… He gives you five of these…
"Huh."
"I don't know. Why?"
Looking for somebody to tell him why.
"I don't know. Why? What?"
"We gotta have an arbitration.
When's the meeting?"
Public schools, now that's different.
Public schools, you got no choice
but to grow the fuck up.
You got no choice
but to grow up in public schools.
It's a pot of fuckshit.
They just throw you in it.
They throw you in it. Nobody prepares you
for the shit you gonna see.
I saw my first white person
in public school.
I didn't know what the fuck it was.
It was the only one there.
"The fuck is that? Jesus Christ!"
I thought it was somebody
from Star Wars, "A stormtrooper."
"Fucking stormtrooper right there."
Just a white person walking down the hall.
I was making the noises…
"It's a fucking stormtrooper. No?"
"No, that's a white person."
"I never knew.
Nobody told me what it was."
Public school throws you
into a pot of fuckshit.
Everything is there.
White people, Black people,
Mexican, Chinese, Puerto Rican.
Fat, skinny, gay, straight.
Dirty, clean. It's all there.
They just push you in.
You gotta figure it out.
Kids are scared.
They run to the teacher,
"I'm scared. Help."
The teacher answer, "Me, too, bitch.
"Walked through the same metal detectors.
Don't think I'm scared?"
"Keep your back against the locker,
head on a swivel."
"What?"
"Get you Mace,
put it in a plastic bottle."
"Gush it at him. That's what I'd do."
"Gush it?"
I don't feel like my kids' private school
respects my level of celebrity.
I don't. I really don't.
I mean this. I swear to God, my plan…
I'm gonna be very honest.
It's my fucking household.
I'm not holding back.
They don't respect my level of celebrity.
I'm a very humble guy.
May not seem like it after that sentence,
but I am. I'm a very humble guy.
What's understood doesn't need to be said.
You know who I am. I know you know it.
Don't make me say who I am.
They put me in the position
to have to say who I am.
I go drop my kids off at school,
teachers come out, surround my car.
"Mr. Hart, we'd love
to talk to you for a second."
"The big fair is coming up."
"We do this fair
once a year at the school."
"We would love it
if you would be the greeter
at this year's fair."
I gave her time for her to say,
"I'm bullshitting."
She never said it.
I said, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No, it's our biggest fair."
"We would love it
if you would be the greeter."
"We think you would make
an amazing greeter at this year's fair."
Before I go on with this joke,
I wanna make something clear.
First things first,
I have nothing against greeters.
Okay? I don't wanna tell this joke
and walk outside my house
and you're there with signs
talking "Cancel Kevin Hart
'cause he don't respect greeters."
"Cancel Kevin Hart
'cause he don't respect the greeters."
Greeters are amazing people.
The job is actually required. I get it.
I've actually been hit
with amazing greetings in my time.
I went to Walmart, I got hit with
a greeting so fantastic one time…
I don't even know where he came from.
He just slid in my POV.
I walked in. He was like,
"Welcome to Walmart."
"Here to get some stuff?"
I said, "What the fuck?"
"Where did you come from, man?"
"You better get some stuff.
We rolling back prices."
Then he moonwalked.
He just moonwalked out the way.
I said, "What the fuck just happened?"
"What just happened here?"
I was so blown away by the greeting,
not only did I go get me some stuff,
I broke my neck
looking for this guy on the way out.
I wanted him to see my stuff.
"Hey, come here, man!"
"Hey, come here.
I wanna show you my stuff."
He came over, I opened my bag.
He was like… "Ooh!"
He said, "Ooh!
You got you some good stuff."
Took out his highlighter, swiped
my receipt so people knew I didn't steal.
Said, "Make sure you come back,
see me again."
I said, "Gonna be here?"
He said, "If not, who will?"
Moonwalks out the way again.
I said, "What the fuck?"
"It's one of the best greetings
I've ever seen, man."
"Of course I'mma come back
and see you again."
I'm not shitting on greeters. I'm just
saying I didn't have to go that route.
I went around that to get to my success.
You don't come to me
and ask me to be the fucking greeter.
I had a number-one movie
in the box office at the time.
I was on the side of fucking buses.
You don't ask me to be the greeter.
There are parents
that got kids that go there
that are former actors and actresses
that you could have asked.
Carlton from the Fresh Prince, Alfonso?
That's your greeter. This right here.
That's what you want in front.
That's your greeter.
Terry Crews. He got kids there.
That's your greeter.
Pec-popping at the front.
"Hey…"
"Hey… Welcome to the fair.
Who want a ticket? Hey, hey!"
What a combination.
Parents would've went crazy. "Whoa!
"What a school."
"I want tickets.
I'm gonna buy every ticket I can."
Hey…
Parents would be blown away.
These greeters are amazing.
Wife said what she normally says.
"Kevin, calm down."
"Get yourself together.
You getting older, more irritable,
and you don't want
that energy to rub off on your kids."
It's not gonna rub off on my goddamn kids.
I know it's not gonna rub off on my kids.
This pandemic gave me a chance
to spend a lot of time with my kids.
A lot of time with my kids.
For the first time, I realized
my kids are a little spoiled.
They're a little spoiled.
But it's not by choice,
it's by circumstances.
I have good kids.
My kids are great kids. I gotta be honest.
I got very lucky. I got great kids.
But because of their circumstances,
they're a little spoiled.
For example, they've been flying private
since birth, they didn't ask for that.
They were born into that.
They only travel with me.
First time they traveled without me
was during this pandemic with my ex-wife.
Went back to Philadelphia
with their mom to go see their grandma.
Kids called me from the airport.
You would have thought
my kids were in Baghdad.
I've never seen…
a higher level of panic
in my fucking life.
Called me from the airport, "Dad!"
"What's happening?"
My daughter was like,
"They're taking my lotions, toothpaste."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"They're making me walk through metal…"
My son snatched the phone,
"What the fuck is going on, Dad?"
"They won't let me take my bags."
"They said I can't take
my backpacks, pulleys, duffys."
"I gotta put my games underneath.
How am I gonna play 'em, Dad?"
I told them both, "Relax. Stop it. Stop!"
"Both of you."
"It's called security."
"It's called TSA, okay?"
"This is called life with your mother."
"All right? There's a difference."
"There's a drop-off. It's all right."
"Things change."
"It's okay."
"You'll both be fine."
I overlooked some things I do
because I never thought twice about 'em.
Me and my kids go to
the amusement park, we do the whole park.
The whole fucking park,
man, in 30, 40 minutes.
How? Well, I call ahead.
There's a concierge. I get to the park,
concierge walks me and my family
up to the front of every single ride.
Done it for years.
Keep in mind, I explain to my kids,
"This is earned. It's not given."
"This doesn't just happen."
"Your father worked hard to be able
to walk to front of these fucking lines."
"There's rules. You don't just
walk to the front of the line."
"Rule number one, as we are
walking to the front of the line,
you do not make eye contact with none
of these fucking people in this line."
"You hear me?"
"You keep your eyes straight ahead
and you don't fucking look left or right
until we get to the front of the line."
"These people are gonna say things.
They're gonna say a lot of mean things
about me, you."
"You just ignore 'em."
"Ignore 'em, because guess what?
We're in our car, headed home."
"Never gonna see these people again."
"You know where these people
gonna be? Still in that fucking line."
"Still gonna be in line."
"And that's reality."
My kids processed that,
they understood it.
For years, this is how we operated.
They called me from the amusement park.
They were with their cousins,
they FaceTimed me.
I answer their FaceTime.
I could tell that they were weak.
Malnourished, they hadn't eaten
in hours, I could tell.
They had white shit
in the corner of their mouths.
They could barely stand.
"Dad!"
"We've been in line for hours,
we haven't rode anything."
"We got the fast pass,
but it's not fast at all."
"Can you call somebody?
Can you do something?"
I said, "Who are you with?"
"Our cousins."
"Is your mother there?" "Yes."
"Put mom on the phone,
let me talk to mom."
Got their mom on the phone.
She said, "Hey, what's up?" "Hey."
"Checkmate, bitch." I hung up.
I was quick.
I haven't went over
these jokes with my ex-wife yet,
I wanna let you guys know.
These jokes are gonna come with
a price tag attached to 'em.
Probably have to buy her
a Tesla truck or something.
Something's gotta happen.
It's just a good fucking joke.
Those are two good jokes,
I can't get rid of 'em.
I thought about those jokes
for a long time.
I gotta let 'em fly.
It's worth the consequence.
I'll send her a couple of text messages
after this tape and see how she feels.
My wife says the same all the time,
"Kevin, you getting older."
"Getting angry, irritable."
I'm here to tell you I am getting older.
Forty-one now, guys.
I know, right?
Where does time go?
I was just 22 years old, man.
You do not realize how fast time flies.
Look back, all those
comedy specials on the wall,
that's a timeline of my fucking life.
That's damn near 16 years of comedy, man.
Sixteen fucking years
of comedy, like, it's insane.
Forty-one.
What happened?
Shit changes at the age of 40.
You hear about it,
but don't believe it, things change.
I'm here to tell you, shit does change.
Biggest change for me,
after the age of 40,
balls dropped. I got some length.
Got some fucking length on my balls.
I didn't ask for it.
Just happened.
I didn't even know. I was in the kitchen.
Bent over, wife said, "Why you
got dice in your back pocket?"
"I ain't got no fucking dice
in my back pocket."
Touched my back pocket,
"Goddamn, those are my fucking balls."
"How did my balls get in my back pocket?
What just happened to me?"
"How long was I asleep?"
"Who stretched me out while I was asleep?"
The biggest thing for me
is how content I am at this age, man.
I am okay.
I'm very serious, man.
I am okay. I don't need to do much.
I love being in the fucking house.
I actually built the house.
Me and my wife built the house,
that's where we wanted to stay.
We wanted to stay in this fucking house.
Let's build our dream house
to stay in it, not to leave it.
Women got a problem with doing this called
sitting the fuck down.
It's very difficult
for women to sit the fuck down.
Sit the fuck down.
That's a task for women.
A woman's favorite line,
"Let's go do some stuff."
"What stuff?" "Mmm-mmm. Something."
"The fuck are you saying?" "Something."
A bunch of men…
There's a bunch of men rejoicing. "Yeah!"
"Something, I don't know. Something."
You know what my wife's
biggest problem is? Chasing her past.
Trying to redo
what she did when she was younger.
Ladies, I'm here to give you
a personal message. It's okay to get old.
There's nothing wrong with getting old.
There's nothing wrong with it.
Stop fighting old age.
The beauty of getting older
is that you get to look back and realize
all the dope shit that you overcame,
that you did when you were younger.
That's dope.
Stop trying to run from that.
Stop trying to redo that. It's over.
It's fucking over.
She told me the other day,
"We should go out tonight, get fucked up."
I said, "Absolutely not.
No."
"Why would I do that? No."
"It hurts. It fucking hurts now."
Take a shot, it gets stuck in my chest
for three to five fucking minutes.
My left side shut down,
I get the shaking and shit.
I gotta fart or shit. I don't know,
one of 'em, something's happening.
Making dumbass faces.
I describe this to my wife
in great detail.
You know what her answer was?
"You don't never wanna have fun with me."
I said, "Bitch,
I just described a stroke to you."
"That's a stroke."
"That's a legal stroke.
I'm shutting down."
"You don't wanna have fun with me.
You don't ever want to do stuff."
After the age 40, you know what,
you lose a high level of care.
I don't really give a fuck.
My wife wanna go out, I don't.
"You go. I don't give a fuck."
"I'm serious.
I don't give a fuck what you do."
Not in a malicious or angry way.
I'm serious. I don't give a fuck. Go!
Have a good time. Go!"
Ladies, you don't know how
to not give a fuck, that's your problem.
If you guys could match
a man's not-give-a-fuck energy,
God, the world would be a better place.
It'd be a better place.
But you don't know how to not give a fuck.
Always searching for a fuck
'cause you just…
You can't. You don't process it.
You can't figure it out.
I'mma tell you your problem,
ladies, and listen closely.
Here's what makes a woman really mad.
You guys get upset if a man
does not give you the reaction
that you feel that you would give him.
I'mma say it again.
Ladies, you get upset
if a man does not give you the reaction
that you feel that you would give him.
Hence why you're always
searching for a give-a-fuck.
'Cause on the other side,
you're like, "I would give a fuck."
Yeah.
- "So you should give a fuck."
- Yeah.
That's why you search for give-a-fucks.
My wife constantly search for 'em.
She wants to go out. "Go out."
She can't just leave.
"All right, babe, I'm going out."
"Cool."
"Me and the girls."
"Got it."
"We probably getting fucked up tonight."
"Do you."
"I don't know what time we coming back."
"I'll be asleep either way, it's fine."
She's searching for give-a-fucks.
There are no give-a-fucks!
"Go!"
I'm excited for you to leave
so I can eat chips off my belly button.
I don't give a fuck.
"Go!"
They can't do it.
Hence you want the same from men.
You don't understand, first and foremost,
stop expecting us to be
as bright and brilliant as you.
If a man goes out and he's over
40 years old, I'm here to tell you,
there is no plan attached to that.
There is no fucking agenda.
There's no schedule.
Stop asking questions
because we don't have the answers.
Granted, I know some insecurities
are brought on because of men
and things they did in the past,
I'm guilty of it,
but after the age of 40, it goes away.
It goes away. We don't give a fuck
about shit. We don't care.
Stop looking for shit.
I told her… The one time
I said I was going out.
"Babe, I'm going out." "Where you going?"
"I don't even know yet."
"Who going with you?"
"Whoever, I guess, don't know."
"What y'all gonna do?"
"I'm trying to figure it out now.
I don't know what we're doing."
"Y'all gonna eat?"
"I hope so, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten."
"What time you back?"
"Whatever time we done."
"What the fuck is going on here?"
"Am I getting graded? What's this?
I don't have answers!"
"I'm failing miserably.
Stop asking me questions."
I can't fuckin' deal with it.
There's a high level
of insecurity sometimes
that's not worth you having, ladies.
We got into an argument one time.
Got into a fucking argument.
Two reasons.
First, she asked me this big question.
I had to explain I didn't know.
Another secret.
After men say, "We going out,"
we actually meet in the parking lot and
try to figure out what the fuck we doing.
We actually have
another meeting ourselves.
"What's the plan?" "Thought you had it."
"I don't, I thought you did."
"Nobody got a fuckin' plan? I'm out.
I'm not staying here doing this shit."
I go home, go to sleep.
I got back home early.
"Back early 'cause you was with a bitch."
"No, I wasn't!"
"I was in a parking lot at Home Depot
for 45 minutes…
talking about nothing,
which is why I came home."
I don't like fuckin' arguing.
I'm at an age where I don't argue,
I leave. That's my new move.
"You argue with yourself. I'll be back."
"I'll be back."
"Hopefully when I come back,
you ain't got no energy."
That's my fuckin' move.
We argued in the morning and I left.
It was 7:00 a.m.
She called, I'm in the car.
"You probably getting your dick sucked."
At 7:00 a.m.?
What bitch is that ambitious
that's out here at 7:00 a.m.…
sucking dick?
What type of daywalker do you think
I'm dealing with? Jesus Christ!
A 7:00 a.m. dicksucker on the loose,
that's got you worried?
What are you readin'?
What's the blog that told y'all to worry
about the dicksucker at 7:00 a.m.?
"Watch your man, ladies!"
"Since 7:00 a.m.,
dicksucker on the prowl!"
"Thanks, girl."
"I saw it on my…"
"I saw it on my security camera."
"Outside looking for dicks."
Came down…
"I saw her looking for dicks
on my security camera."
"Somewhere out there looking for dicks."
Shit that I deal with is unreal.
All my wife's insecurities dropped down
after she read my group chat.
Ladies, if you got a man
over 40 years old in this room,
I challenge you to check his phone
and read his group chat.
Do it!
Over 40? You should do it.
Under 40?
I don't recommend it, you gambling.
You fuckin' gambling.
Forty and above? Go, read it!
You will never read a more inconsistent
and unfocused conversation in your life.
All my group chat conversations
start off the same.
They all start off great.
"Yo!"
"See that picture of Rihanna's ass?"
"Goddamn."
"Shit!"
"Fuck!"
"I saw it."
Random question flies in the chat.
"If you run out of butter,
what else can I put in the pan?"
"What?"
"I ain't got no butter, man."
"What else can I use?"
"How'd you run out of butter?"
"I don't know, but it's gone."
Another statement flies in.
"I can't even eat butter.
It makes my gout act up."
"Gout?"
"When you get gout?" "I been had gout."
"I didn't know you had gout."
"I told y'all I had gout."
Another statement flies in the chat.
"What the fuck is gout?"
A picture from WebMD hit the chat.
Pow!
Description of gout
and what the fuck it can do.
"Goddamn, you got that?"
Then chat goes silent for five days.
Don't nobody saying shit.
Forty and up, the chat just die.
Nobody ends it.
Day six, they pick up where they left off.
"What else make your gout act up?"
My friend Joey don't know
how to use emojis.
That's how she thought
she had somethin' one time.
Joey's the older one,
Joey's the one with gout.
We tease him. "You gout-having bitch."
We just tease him.
He was getting mad in chat.
"I'm tired of y'all teasin' me."
"Y'all mad I'm doing the right thing
with my life. I'm getting healthy."
"I'm 'bout to go get me
a bunch of these now."
He put five eggplants back-to-back.
Then he put…
Then he put the tongue emoji
with the splash.
I said, "What the fuck…
are you talking about, Joey?"
"What are you talking about right now?"
"You just said you're about to go
take five dicks to the face…
and get them off.
That's what you just said."
"No, I didn't say that!"
"Yes, you did."
"Five eggplants, tongue, splash."
"You said you're taking it to the face,
finishing 'em off, that's what you said."
Fuckin' Joey.
Older you get, the more
direct and honest you get.
Me and my wife are at a very direct
and honest space in our relationship.
Very honest.
Very honest, man.
My wife told me the other day,
"Honey, your sex is no longer
what it used to be."
To my fuckin' face!
Ain't this a bitch?
We're in my home, I got no problem
being honest with y'all.
To my fuckin' face.
Told me my sex is falling off.
Know what my response was?
"Happens." That's what I said.
"Happens."
I don't give a shit.
Fucking 41, I don't got time
to be fuckin' all day.
I'm tired. I'm tired.
I don't believe you can be successful
and have good dick.
I said it. That's how I feel.
That's how I fuckin' feel.
I'm not taking it back. I said it.
I don't believe that you can be successful
and have good dick.
I told her, "Pick.
You want this life or good dick?"
"I'm not gonna do both. Not doing both."
"I'm not giving you both. Pick one."
When I had good dick,
I was broke, I had nothing.
I was out here fucking for transportation
when I had good dick.
Fuckin' for tokens.
Sick of walking.
I need to put down some good dick,
get in somebody's car around here.
It was cold in Philadelphia.
You don't know my life. Stop judging me.
But because you're married,
you gotta fuckin' compromise.
Gotta meet you halfway.
I told her, "You feel like
I need to do better sexually?"
"Pick a date."
"Pick a date."
On that date,
I'm required to give out some good dick.
You pick a date, on that date,
I'm required
to give out some good dick.
She picked the eighth of every month.
"All right.
"You better buckle the fuck up."
"I'm 'bout to drop some dick
on your ass like you never had."
"To thump your ass right now.
That's exactly what I'mma do."
It's all fun and games until the week of.
You get nervous as shit, man.
Friends saw it on my face, "You good?"
"No, I ain't good.
I gotta fuck in 5 days, man."
Gotta fuck her on the 8th.
I was out here drinking pineapple juice,
eating celery. I don't…
I don't know what the fuck
is happening to me.
Sweatin'. "Damn, man,
I gotta fuck in three days!"
Countdown.
Felt like I had the NBA Finals
coming up or some shit.
Icing my legs,
I didn't know what was happening.
The eighth came up, I did a good job.
A batch of good dick.
Thank you for the applause,
I appreciate it.
Sad that you felt like you had to clap,
but I'll take it.
"Thank God, Kevin. Jesus!"
My honesty backfired over there.
Ooh! Oh.
Gave out some good dick on the eighth.
In true woman fashion, on the ninth,
she tried to get some more.
It's not our agreement.
That's not the deal we made.
I said one date.
Every other day
could be trashy dick or not.
You don't fuckin' expect
the same thing again.
After my fuckin' bedtime,
she come in 8:30 p.m., drunk as shit.
It's late.
Trying to wake me up, "Get up."
"Trying to get some dick."
"Trying to get more of that 8th dick."
That's what she said.
"I want some more of that eighth dick.
Let me get some of that eighth dick."
I snap, "Get the fuck off me,
get your hands off of me."
"Coming here this late at night
waking me up."
"Waking the dog up."
Older you get, you care more
about animals than anything else.
"The dog ain't had a good night's sleep
in two weeks, you come in here all loud?"
"Pissed off,
I'm very pissed off right now."
Me and the dog went downstairs, slept.
Slept in the guest room.
"Not gonna stay with you
and your selfishness
'cause you want some more
of that 8th dick."
"You just lost a month
is what you just did."
Took the next eighth off the contract
is what I did.
You know what makes me laugh?
Hearing other people talk about sex.
That's enough for me.
Hearing other people talk about sex,
funniest shit in the world.
Funniest people to listen to
talk about sex, my nephews.
My nephews are 21, 22 years old.
It's the funniest shit
that you'll ever hear, man.
Funniest shit you'll ever hear,
but they don't offer the information,
you gotta bait it out of them.
You gotta set a trap,
see if they fall for it.
I set the trap, they fall in every time.
I come in the room, hot.
"Y'all ain't fuckin' yet."
Take the bait every time.
"Who ain't fuckin'?"
Every time. "Who ain't fuckin'?"
"I know you ain't sayin' me.
I know you ain't sayin' I ain't fuckin'."
"I'm fuckin'!"
"I know you ain't sayin' me."
"Go ahead, Unc."
"You ain't fuckin', bitch."
"I know your young ass ain't fuckin'."
"I'm fuckin', Unc."
"Tell me what you doing."
"No, I ain't telling you."
"I tell you, you'll put it
in your comedy show."
"I ain't talking about you, shut up."
"What would I put you
in my comedy show for?"
"I got jokes, I don't need you."
"What you doing? Give me
the nastiest thing you've done."
"No judging?" "No judging."
"Fuck I'mma judge you for?"
"All right."
"Nastiest thing I've done…"
"Went to the movies with this girl."
"We go to the movies, she tell me
to get a large bucket of popcorn."
"I get the bucket of popcorn, I sit down,
she cut a hole in the bottom,
told me put my dick through the hole,
gave me a butter beat-off."
I said, "What the fuck?"
Listen, I caught myself,
I had to act like I knew what it was.
Ha-ha! Ah.
"A butter beat-off."
"I know that's right."
"A butter beat-off."
You know you older
'cause you ask the wrong questions.
"Fuck y'all get a large for?
Why you waste that popcorn?"
"You should've just got the small."
"It's a $12, $14 difference.
Why you get that?"
"Butter don't get in your hole?
Like an infection waiting to happen."
"It's how you catch the VID.
You gonna get the VID."
"Get the 'VID-19 doing that shit,
putting the butter in your hole."
"You don't want butter in your hole."
I ran home and told my wife.
"Ain't gonna believe this shit."
"Terrence told me these kids out here
giving each other butter beat-offs."
She said, "They still do that?"
I said, "What the fuck is happening here?"
"Who are you?"
I don't wanna know no more.
You just stop right there.
My kids better not be doing it,
I know that much.
If I find out my kids do it,
I'll have a goddamn fit.
You can't just ask your kids, though.
You gotta, once again…
Set the trap, see if they step in it.
We at dinner, eating a good dinner
at the house, nice dinner.
I throw question out to my wife,
"We should go to the movies."
"Maybe you can give a butter beat-off."
I look right at my fuckin' daughter.
Right at my daughter.
Staring at her ass.
She didn't budge. Cool as a fan,
eating her food and shit.
I've never been more proud as a father.
Thank you, God.
Thank you, God,
she don't even know what it is.
Thank you, God.
Turn this way,
my son was like, "Oh, yeah."
He said, "Yeah!"
"You better get the large, Dad."
"You don't want butter in the hole,
you'll catch the 'VID!"
"Again. You don't want it twice."
"You don't want back-to-back
cases of the 'VID, Dad."
My wife actually beat me up,
made me take her on a date.
Took her to a dinner party.
I'm not name-dropping, but this joke
doesn't make sense unless I…
drop the name.
I went to Seinfeld's house
for a dinner party.
Some of the best food I've ever had.
Food was fuckin' amazing, man.
At the end of the party,
Seinfeld came walking out.
He was like,
"Nobody go anywhere."
"You guys are in for a treat. Tonight…
we're gonna have some brick-oven pizza."
Everybody went crazy.
"What? Oh, my God! Brick-oven pizza?"
"What?"
One lady was like,
"How many cheeses, Jerry?"
Jerry's like, "Seven different cheeses."
"Seven different cheeses."
People went crazy.
By the way, people were white.
These are all fuckin' white people.
They start chanting, "BOP!"
The fuck is "BOP," man?
"BOP!"
What the fuck is "BOP"?
White woman leans over the table,
she's like, "Short for brick-oven pizza."
I was like, "Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit."
"Oh, okay, I get it."
Seinfeld has some Italian men walk out.
They had pizza-like garb on.
They start passing out pizza
saying Italian shit…
I don't know Italian.
It just dawned on me, as I told that joke,
what I'm doing is racist right now.
I apologize.
People eating the pizza, going crazy.
"Oh, my God. I taste the cheeses, Jerry."
"I taste the cheeses."
They brought me my pizza. I took a bite.
I couldn't believe it.
Best pizza I've ever had in my life.
Best fucking pizza I've ever had.
It had some type of lettuce on it.
I've never tasted this shit.
Told my wife, "It's got some type
of lettuce. Wait till you taste it."
This white woman leaned over again,
she was like, "It's arugula."
"What?"
"It's arugula."
"Oh, shit."
I took another bite. I got caught up.
"BOP, BOP, BOP."
"BOP, BOP…"
What an amazing night.
Fucking amazing night,
from start to finish, man.
In the car, I was pissed.
I was pissed, you know why?
Because I wanted what Seinfeld had.
I wanted that fucking moment, man.
Seinfeld was known as
the brick-oven-pizza guy.
He was known for something else
outside of his fame.
I wanted that.
What really pissed me off
was that the same people who
built Seinfeld's house built my house.
Not once was I offered the option
of getting a brick pizza oven
at my goddamn house.
This was racism at the highest level.
It's fucking racist.
Next morning comes,
I call the contractors.
I come in hot, "You racist fucks!"
"For you guys to offer Seinfeld
the option of getting a brick pizza oven
and not even bringing it up to me
shows just how racist you are."
"You better make it right
or it's gonna get worse for you."
I hang up the phone. Pow!
They call back,
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about.
Black lives matter."
Hung up again. Pow.
Within a day, they're at my house.
Had a blueprint
of what my pizza oven can look like.
Within a week,
I had a brick pizza oven
in the back of my house.
Once again, I wanted what Seinfeld had.
I invited all my friends over.
I'm gonna have a dinner party,
like Seinfeld did.
My friends finish eating.
I come out at the end of dinner
the same way Seinfeld did.
"All right."
"Nobody go anywhere
because you guys
are in for a treat tonight."
"We're gonna have
some brick-oven pizza tonight."
You hear murmurs around the room.
"Fuck is he talking about?
I ain't eating no pizza off no brick."
Everybody at my party is Black.
These are all Black people.
"Order Domino's.
I'm not eating that shit."
I said,
"Now, I know what you're thinking."
"How many cheeses?"
"Seven different cheeses."
More murmurs.
"I'm lactose intolerant.
I'm not eating all that fucking cheese."
"Everyone knows you only put
that much cheese on macaroni."
"I'm not gonna eat that.
What's his problem?"
I said, "Everybody get up. Go outside,
that's where the brick-oven pizza is."
More murmurs. "It's cold as shit outside.
I'm not going outside."
Black people got a response
for every thing.
"Not gonna do that. Not going outside."
I said, "Come on, say it with me,
'BOP, BOP, BOP.'"
My friend Jamal stood up in the back, "Oh,
if you got some BOP outside, I'm going."
Na'im said, "What the fuck is BOP?"
He said, "Man, he got some
big old pussy out there. I'm goin'."
I said, "No, Jamal,
ain't no big old pussy out there."
"Yes, it is. That's what BOP is."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. I was with you."
"We was in Atlanta, that big bitch said,
'Wanna see my BOP?'"
"What's that?"
"And she was like, 'Big old pussy.'"
"Me and you start tipping her."
"I ain't got no ones
but I want to see it again."
Everybody left.
I never got my moment.
I did not get my moment.
Keep in mind, I wanted that.
I wanna be known for something
outside my fucking fame, man.
I wanted be known as Kevin Hart,
the brick-oven-pizza guy,
and the moment was gone.
I had to find a new hobby.
Searched hard for a new hobby, too.
I was road biking for a minute.
Getting miles in on the bike.
I stopped, though.
The reason why I stopped,
I didn't like the way my dick looked
in the outfit. True story.
Looked like I had a clit,
I didn't like it.
'Tween that and long balls,
it was bad combination.
Shit just didn't look right.
When you stop at a light,
you gotta click out.
You gotta snap out, like,
"Hey, what's up?"
Cars were slowing down.
"Fuck you slowing down for, man?
Get out here! Stop looking."
This lady slowed down. It was 7 a.m.
I said, "Get outta here.
I know what you want."
"Daywalker. Get your ass out of here."
"Ain't no dicks out here for you, lady.
Get out of here, daywalker."
"Get out of here."
I started boxing.
Boxing became a hobby.
I started because I felt like it was
something I could get better at every day.
Every day, I can get good.
It's me against me.
Went and found a trainer.
The guy had amazing talent
underneath his belt.
Golden Glove fighters,
Junior Olympics… I mean,
there's so much, lightweight champions.
I said, "I know you're not working,
but I'll pay you good money to train me."
He said, "If you take me on,
I'll make you the best fighter ever."
I said, "That's too much."
"I don't want that.
I just want to get good."
He said, "Done." He became my trainer.
Gotta be honest with you.
He was fucking good.
Made me good.
Told me shit I thought I would never hear.
Compared me to boxers I've never heard of,
but it still was a compliment.
Told me I reminded him
of a fighter named Lefty Lou Earl.
He's like, "Kevin, do you know
who that is?" I said, "I do not."
He said, "I'mma bring you a tape."
"You got a VCR?"
"No, I do not."
Then he made me laugh
when I told him I didn't have one.
He was like…
Like… Like I was in the wrong year.
"Can't believe you don't have a VCR.
Goddamn."
"Why do you still have a VCR, sir?"
Told me I have
one of the best jabs he's ever seen.
Said, "Your jab reminds me
of lightning coming from your shoulders."
"Lightning coming from
your fucking shoulders."
"You thought about fighting?"
I said, "No."
"What about sparring?"
I said, "No, but I would."
"That's all I need to hear.
Tomorrow. 6 a.m. I'll set you up."
"You need to see how good you are."
6 a.m., I come to the gym.
He got a guy there, my height, my build.
Got my head gear,
my codpiece, my mouthpiece.
Puts it all on me. Starts putting Vaseline
all on my face and my headgear.
I said, "What's this for?"
He said, "So the punches slide off."
"Well, we never talked… Okay."
"We didn't discuss that, but all right."
"Okay. If that's what it's gonna do,
then that's what it's gonna do."
He's done putting Vaseline on. Walks out.
I said, "You didn't do him yet."
He said, "He's okay. He don't need it."
"Huh. All right."
That's weird. Okay, whatever.
I'm gonna go with the flow.
He said, "We're gonna do three
three-minute rounds.
Nobody's here to hurt anybody.
Have a good time. Keep it loose."
He yells out, "Take it easy on him."
I assume he's talking to me.
Gotta be talking to me.
I yelled back, "Gotcha, coach."
Put a confident laugh behind it. "Ha, ha!"
We get to our corners. Bell rings. Ding.
I come out.
I want him to see that I could fight.
You could tell I can fight
by the way I hold my shoulders.
Look how I'm moving. Hmm?
My feet are spaced apart.
Look at my foot move.
Look how I'm moving, bitch.
Ain't gonna be no cakewalk. Mh-hm.
Yeah, you see it. He flatfooted.
Oh!
He's not even on the balls of his foot.
I'm gonna whoop his ass.
I'm getting more confidence
as I move around.
My coach says, "Kevin, stop playing.
Let your hands go."
All right.
"Ask and you shall receive."
I hope he got the Weather Channel,
'cause this is about to be some lightning.
When you throw a jab, you take a step.
Take a step,
let the jab go at the same time.
Turn it over. Every time.
That's how you throw it.
I take my step.
I'm about to turn it over. I'm here.
Here it is. About to turn that bitch over.
Better brace yourself. Here it come.
Ooh. It's coming. Right here.
I'm right here,
but I'm about to get here. Here I am,
but I'm about to get right there.
Better brace yourself.
I'm right here. Before I did that…
…he hit me.
I immediately lost my vision.
Immediately. I went blind immediately.
Couldn't see shit. Everything was black.
Aah…
Aaah!
I read that you could get brain damage
or die from a punch.
I just lost my fucking vision.
I don't have eyesight no more.
I can't see. I panicked. I turned around.
I've been known
to do this move several times.
I start punching backwards.
I've talked about it in my past specials.
I'm a backwards puncher. When I panic,
I fucking start punching.
My trainer said, "Kevin, throw the jab,
throw the jab!"
I said, "For what… liar?"
It ain't lightning
unless he's a storm tracker, okay?
Because this is fucking ridiculous.
I'm blind. I can't see shit.
Aah!
I'm blind.
"Ring the bell. Ring the fucking bell."
The bell rings.
I can't get to the corner.
I gotta follow his voice to the corner.
Aah!
As I get to the corner, my trainer,
he's like, "What's wrong?"
I said, "I'm blind. I can't fucking see."
He just lift my head gear up…
Apparently, when he hit me,
he knocked my head gear over my eyes.
It was black, so I was just looking
at the back of it the whole time.
He's like, "Why didn't you lift it up?"
I said, "Because we never
went over that in practice."
"I think you put too much Vaseline on me."
"That's why
I was sliding all over the place."
"Sliding all over the place.
I don't wanna do this no more."
"You're gonna quit?"
"I don't call it that,
"I just wanna do something else."
"What you gonna tell him?"
I said, "I'm never talking to him again
in my fucking life."
"My lawyer will talk to him.
He's going to jail."
"I bet you that.
He's going to fucking jail after this."
"What he did to me was assault.
That's what the fuck this was."
"Assault at the highest level."
I quit. Walked away from boxing that day.
Walked away. Never went back.
Later on, I decided
to look up some tape on Lefty Lou Earl.
I went and found this guy.
I wanted to know who he was.
Who are you comparing me to?
After that display of boxing that I gave,
I wanted to see who the fuck
was like me or who was I like?
Turns out Lefty Lou Earl had one arm.
He was a handicapped fighter.
He was one in 38.
His one win came from disqualification.
He got knocked out,
they kicked him in the face.
That's why they gave him the "W."
He had a squeaky voice.
So my trainer was talking
about my voice all this time.
Nothing to do with my fighting style.
Just so happened to compare me
to a handicapped fighter.
I know, I'm gonna get a lot of shit after
this joke from fucking one-armed people.
I guess, they'll cancel me next,
I don't know.
Good news is their rally won't last long
'cause they can't hold them signs
for too long.
'Cause they only got one…
They're gonna get tired.
They gotta put them arms down.
Unless they coordinate it right with
equal amount of right and left hands,
they're not gonna get
their message across to cancel me.
So… that's some good news.
Maybe I should take that one out.
Let's take that one out.
Gonna get canceled for that one.
Fuck it.
Fuck it. I'm in my house.
I'm gonna say what the fuck I want.
It's a joke.
It's a joke.
I was so happy, man, after that spar,
because that was the first sign
that I was back to myself of old.
I started sparring after my accident.
You don't know, a year ago,
I got into a car accident.
Almost fucking died, man.
Damn near paralyzed. Bad shit happened.
I was in a hospital for a minute.
Thought about a lot.
'Cause I thought about a lot,
I can now ask you things
that I know you haven't thought about.
Question number one is,
do you have an ass wiper in your life?
Think about it.
An ass wiper.
Somebody that will wipe your ass
if shit hit the fan
for the rest of your life, if need be.
You don't think you need it
until you fucking need it.
After surgery, I didn't go to the bathroom
for eight days. I was constipated.
They wouldn't let me leave
until I went to the bathroom.
Had to make sure my organs were working.
I had somebody by my side
every single day.
On day nine, there was a 20-minute gap
when I was by myself.
During this gap, it felt like somebody
threw a stick of dynamite
in my fucking stomach
and that bitch exploded.
Boo! Uh-oh.
Uh-oh. I gotta go.
Gotta go to the fucking bathroom.
Can't move my legs. I can't move my arms.
There's nobody there.
I start pressing the help button. "Help!"
"Help! Help!"
"Help! Somebody gotta help!"
José came running in the room.
José was a 60-year-old Mexican nurse.
"What's up, my friend?"
"José.
I gotta go to the bathroom, man, now.
I gotta go right now."
"I got you, man.
I'll take care of you. I'll get you good."
José grabbed my legs, grabs my upper body,
picks me up, sits me on the toilet
that was right next to the bed.
After he sits me on the toilet,
José took two giant steps backwards,
folded his arms,
was looking me in the eye,
rocking back and forth like this.
"Oh, no.
The fuck is happening, José?
I gotta go, man. Why you still here?"
Then it dawned on me, "Oh, my God…
José's gotta wipe my ass."
"Oh, this is rock bottom. This is it."
"This is rock fucking bottom. I'm here.
It can't get worse than this."
When I say that, José decides
to say things that make me feel better.
"Don't worry, man.
I'm gonna wipe you good, okay?"
"I'm gonna wipe you good, okay, man?"
"I got you. You're in good hands with me.
I'mma wipe you good, okay, man?"
At this point, I'm fucking in disbelief.
I just can't believe what's happening.
I can't hold it. I just go. I start going.
José decides to cheer me on.
"Good, good, good."
"You gotta get it out, man."
"You gotta get it out, man."
"Eight days' a long time
for anybody, man."
I get done going,
José grabs my right arm, rolls me over.
José starts wiping my ass.
At this point,
a single tear rolls down my fucking cheek.
I'm crying.
The reason I'm crying is because
my arms are numb, my legs are numb.
But I couldn't figure out
why God would leave feeling
in the space of my ass.
Why not numb that up, too?
Why let me feel
what the fuck is happening?
At the lowest point of my life,
why feel José wiping my ass?
Crying uncontrollably at this point.
José decides to say something else.
"It's okay, man.
This is crazy, man. I know."
"Imagine how I feel, man."
"I can't believe
I'm wiping Kevin Hart's ass, man."
"This is crazy."
"It's my first famous ass, man."
Guys, this has been
such an amazing night of fucking comedy.
Dude, it's been a great night.
Such a great, intimate night.
We shared so much.
I love it. It's such a different vibe.
It's a comfortable vibe. It's a sexy vibe.
More importantly,
it was a vibe that I got to be myself in,
but I don't want you guys to leave
with just laughter from jokes.
I feel like I can give you more.
I want you to know me for more, okay?
'Cause I got more. I got more.
With that being said,
I hope you guys are ready for some BOP.
Bring out the BOP. That's right.
Brick-oven pizza for everybody.
BOP! Yes, that's right.
I got some BOP for you.
I see you.
BOP!
Yes! Thank you guys so much.
What an amazing night.
BOP! BOP!
Oh!
What's wrong with you, boy?
- I just had the the craziest dream.
- Oh, my gosh.
- No, it was crazy.
- It's okay.
No, it's not.
I dreamt that I was on stage,
and doing stand up
about stuff that I would never say.
I-I called my daughter a ho.
I called my son dumb.
I said I don't like private school
and the plant-based community was wilin'.
- Ah…
- All right.
I went through this whole phase
where I said I was at Seinfeld's house.
I ain't never been to Seinfeld's house.
I said, I said--
Go back to sleep.
You were just having a bad nightmare.
- Just a nightmare, right?
- Yeah.
It was just… It was just a nightmare.
Yes, go back to sleep, please.
You ever had BOP?
No?