Brian Regan: On the Rocks (2021) - full transcript

Ladies and gentlemen, 
please welcome Brian Regan!

Thank you.

Thank you very much, everybody.

Thank you.

Thank you very, very much.

Well, let's get the gray hair 
out of the way.

Because if I don't, you won't listen 
to a word I say for an hour.

You'll be out there, "Did you know 
anything about the gray hair?"

"I'm just as befuddled as you."

I don't know what happened either.

Covid hit, I went into hibernation
and came out a senior citizen.



It's just as well.

I was never comfortable
in the hair-color aisle anyway.

You always have to pretend like
you're there for someone else.

"Women, huh?"

I like the difference in hair color names
between women and men

Women have hair color names 
like ruby fusion.

Chocolate cherry.

Butterscotch.

Men's hair color: brown!

Black!

Light brown!

Dark black!

For men, 
that is the entire color spectrum.

I don't know.
I'm at the age where I wake up,



the first thing I do is try to remember
what doctor I'm going to that day.

Ah, the dermatologist.

Because of that splotch on my back.

I don't want to sound like I'm bragging,

but I have to put medicine on my back
using a spatula.

It's fun going into the drugstore
when they ask,

"Can we help you find anything?"
And I say,

"Yes, a spatula,
Lotrimin and a hand mirror."

Are you intrigued, my lady?

I got my Little Red Riding Hood 
Walgreens basket,

if you could direct me 
to the proper aisles.

My dermatologist said he needed
to do a biopsy of a little mole

on the tip of my nose,
and I was like,

"Wow, that sounds like
it's going to hurt."

He said, "Don't worry. We're going
to numb it first with a painkiller."

I said, "How?"

He said,  "We're going to puncture 
a sharp needle into the tip of your nose."

So you're not canceling the pain.

You're just rescheduling it.

So I go to my regular doctor
and he's like, "What's going on?"

I said, "You tell me.
Just above my right knee

there's a little area 
about three inches up.

It's about the size of a fist.

That's where it doesn't hurt.

And it feels very peculiar.

Do you have a pill that can make 
everything else feel like that?

I want an 
'everything else like that' pill."

My doctor looked at me and said,
"Brian, you are way too sedentary."

So I vowed in that moment…

to get a dictionary.

I haven't got around to it,
just been laying around the house.

Or is it "lying" around the house?

Doctors specialize, right?

Last month I went  to an ear,
nose and throat doctor.

Last week I went to an arch-of-the-foot,
small-of-the-back,

nape-of-the-neck doctor.

I have fallen arches, my small's too big,
and I have a trick nape.

It's weird, in the human world,
there's a doctor for every body part.

But in the animal world,
a veterinarian takes care of all animals…

and all their parts.

That's got to be the hardest job 
in the world.

Where are the bighorn sheep 
knee doctors?

The wildebeest gastroenterologists?

The giraffe throat,
throat and throat doctors?

They say the American medical system
is the best in the world.

I'll be impressed when I am no longer
handed a clipboard

when I check in for my doctor visit.

That is so Stone Age.

You know, we live in a world 
of bar codes and microchips.

What's with the clipboard?

"I'm here for my 10 o'clock appointment."

"Here's your clipboard.
There's 257 pages on there."

"Here's a pen with a flower on it."

"Go sit with all those other people

and don't even think of coming back 
to this counter

till you've completely filled out
your clipboard."

"I've been a patient here for many years.
You should have all this information."

"Well, our policy is we do it every year.
We give you another clipboard.

And that way you can experience
angst and tension

and rage and downright fury,
all roiling through your torso."

"And then we take your blood pressure."

You can't fix that
and you're going to fix me?

So my doctor told me to get 
a therapeutic massage for the neck.

Um, massages are weird.

You know, I never feel comfortable.

Always looking through
that strange doughnut hole.

I'm always thinking weird things like,

"I wonder if I could squeeze my head 
through this."

"But what if I got stuck 
underneath the table?"

"Then I'd be like 
an upside-down periscope."

"I'd better leave well enough alone

and stay on this side 
of the doughnut hole."

Then I think things like,
"Are my eyes supposed to be open?"

"I feel like I'm eavesdropping.
I'm watching her feet moving around."

Started thinking weird things like,

"What if one shoe went that way 
and one shoe went that way?"

"I'd be awfully curious 
as to what was going on."

"Awfully curious."

So after 10 minutes I said,
"I don't know the protocol…

but am I supposed to say,
'you may begin'?"

And she said,
"I started 10 minutes ago."

She said,
"This is a Reiki massage."

"I don't actually touch you."

"My hands are just above you,
and it's an energy healing."

So when she was done I said,
"I don't actually touch my wallet."

"My hand is just above it."

"You should be receiving 
an energy payment…

that you can use to pay your energy bill,
see how they feel about the concept."

So I'm learning things about myself.

I learned recently I suffer from OCD.

Uh—

Thank you.

"Suffer" is too strong a word.

People say they suffer from things,
when that just means they have them.

You know, do I look like I'm suffering?

I think the word "suffer"
should be reserved for a guy

writhing on the ground in agony.

He's suffering.

Am I allowed to run up to him?

"You're preaching to the choir!"

"I have to alphabetize everything!"

"Quit wriggling.
I'm trying to count your ribs."

"I'm a rib counter."

The alphabetizing thing is not true,
at least in my case.

People think I'm weirder than I am,
and it's hard for me.

They ask questions like,
"Brian, with your OCD,

do you have to alphabetize
your books at home?"

And I'm like, "Uh, no."

"I organize my books by when I got them
chronologically on the top shelf."

"I don't have to alphabetize my books.
I'm not a kook."

"And the bottom shelf is for the books
I've completed reading."

"Organized chronologically 
by the completion date."

"I don't have to alphabetize them." Der!

"And the middle shelf…

is for the books
I'm in the process of reading."

"When I start reading a book, 

I move it from the top shelf 
to the middle shelf

and I organize those chronologically
by the start date."

I know exactly what you're wondering.

You're thinking, "Well, wouldn't
reading the title of the book…

count technically as being in the process
of reading that book?"

"Then how would you distinguish between 
the top shelf in the middle shelf?"

Well, the way I do it…

I make myself read all of page one 
before I allow a shelf change.

I don't count the introduction,
or the foreword, or the book jacket.

I do read all of that word for word,

but then I make myself read 
all of page one all the way to the bottom.

Unless it ends in the middle
of a sentence,

I make myself turn the page.

I finish the sentence 
to complete the thought,

I turn the page back.

I write down what date
that book was started.

I move that to the middle shelf
furthest on the right.

I don't have to alphabetize my books.
I'm not out of my mind!

How come when you want things in order
they call that a disorder?

You know, when I first suspected 
that I might have OCD, I Googled it.

And there are different symptoms.

And some I have, and some I don't.

And the ones I have,
some I have more strongly than others.

So I decided to make a color-coded graph.

I wish I was making this up.

I listed the symptoms.

I said I'm going to rate from 0 to 10
how strongly I feel I have each symptom.

Total it up and divide it
by the number of symptoms.

If I'm higher than 5 
I'll seek professional help.

If I'm under 5, 
I'll self-diagnose that I am A-okay.

Number one: are you the type of person
who has to check the stove repeatedly

to make sure it's off?

And I'm like, 
"Uh, zero. That's Looney Tunes land."

Number two: are you the type of person
who has to wash your hands

over and over again?

And I had this nagging feeling…

that I forgot to answer 
that first question.

So I looked up—
"Yeah, I did write zero. Okay."

"Hand washing."

"Six."

"That ain't even right."
I scribbled that out.

I got some ink on my hands.
I went to go wash my hands.

While I'm washing my hands I'm like,
"Why did they mention stoves?"

So I checked the stove.

It was on. I'm like, 
"I'll never make that mistake again."

And I came back and I changed
"hand washing" to 2.

I took the whole test and averaged 5.0.

So I'm like, "I still don't know."

So I decided to buy a book about it.

I go into the bookstore,
I ask the clerk,

"Can you tell me 
where the self-help section is?"

And she said,
"Why don't you try to find that yourself?"

Well, I finally found the section.
It was so disorganized,

I spent the next three hours
rearranging all their books

rather than finding out 
whether or not I have OCD!

I'll show you one weird way
it manifests itself.

Every year when I get 
the new calendar,

I always look ahead because I don't like
the months who are at the bottom.

They expect days to share squares.

My brain can't handle that.

"Oh no, October's going to be
square-sharing month."

Why do they do that?

Days don't want roommates.

You don't want the 31st 
going up to the 24th:

"Hey, can I squeeze in there with you?"

"Get the hell out of here!"

"There's empty squares
on the top of the next page."

You might think that's weird,

unless one of those days
is special to you.

If it's your birthday, you don't want to
be wedged up in the corner of a triangle.

"Happy birthday, sort of,
kind of squished up here."

And then right across the diagonal
it says, "Take trash to dump."

I've always been interested 
in calendars and time.

Uh, I grew up in the Eastern Time Zone.

I now live in the Pacific Time Zone.

And what's weird living out there,

when anybody from the Eastern Time Zone
leaves the voice message,

they always feel they have to compute
the time difference.

I'm always getting messages:
"Hey, Brian, it's, four o'clock my time.

That's one o'clock your time."

Oh!

I know what time it is
where I am.

I have a friend
who does that all the time.

He recently left this message:

"Brian, do me a favor.
Call me back.

I'm going to be out for about 20 minutes
my time, that's, uh…

Uh, just call me back."

When? What's the formula?

When I was a kid, 
it was weird learning about time zones.

Learning that there were 24
around the world.

I looked at a globe 
and saw all the lines met at the top,

and I thought, "What time is it up there?"

Could you put your hand on the pole
and walk around,

"It's 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 
4:00, 5:00, 6:00!"?

Yeah!

How would you plan anything up there?

"We're gonna meet at five o'clock."

"Where were you?"

"I was just south of here."

Well, in addition to the OCD,
I also have a little social anxiety.

But I force myself
to go to parties and stuff,

but there are things people do 
that bug me.

I don't like when somebody pronounces
a word differently than everybody else

to try to sound smart.

Just say it like everybody else.

I'm at this party, 
I walk up to this group of strangers.

First thing I hear, uh, this guy goes,

"Another thing about  'Jengus' Khan…"

I'm like, "Oh, jeez."

"I already don't like this guy."

I go, "Oh, uh, Genghis Khan?"

"It was actually pronounced 'Jengus.'"

I'm guessing you were there at the time.

You and the Jeng-man 
palling around town.

So I wanted to sound smart.

So I was like, "Oh, Jengus Khan,
the 'Mongo-lian em-peror.'

Wasn't he the 'con-kerer' of 'Cheena'?"

Well, I felt this little circle
tighten on me.

I've done just been ostracized.

Walk up to this second group.

And I don't know what to do when somebody 
says something I don't agree with.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do
as a person.

I've always grappled with that.

I walk up, this woman says,

"Animals are smarter than people."

I'm like, "Oh, jeez."

"I just got here."

I look at the others like,
"Anybody want to take this?"

"Low-hanging fruit."

"I just took the hit
over at that little circle."

"If somebody could step up 
to the plate here

so I could hang around 
for longer than two minutes…"

But nobody else is even looking up,
they're shuffling their shoes…

and trying to figure out the dynamic.

"They must work for her.
Something's going on."

But I couldn't say nothing.

But I didn't want to make a big deal
out of it either.

I don't know these people.

So I decided to make 
a lighthearted joke.

So I said, 
"Oh, how do animals do on the SAT test?"

Yeah!

Just a little "ha-ha-ha."

I didn't get the "ha-ha-ha."

I just felt the temperature drop.

And this woman glares at me and says,

"Animals are smarter than people."

"Like, case closed."

Well, I can't take that.

But before I could say anything, 
she said, "What about the beavers?"

Forcing me to say,
"What about the beavers?"

There was no other line
on my script at that point.

Nothing can ever follow,
"What about the beavers?"

Except another,
"What about the beavers?"

"What about the beavers?"

"What about the beavers?"

So she explains to me.

She said, 
"The beavers are smarter than people."

"They know how to all get in the water,
and they all know how to gather sticks…

and bring them to one area,

and they know how to put mud 
on their tails

and slap the sticks together,
and they can affect the flow of a river."

Hoover Dam.

Smart. Stupid.

Human engineering. Pile of muddy sticks.

So I asked her,

"If you hired a company to build a dam…

and they all got out of their trucks…

and they all started 
getting in river water…

and started gathering twigs and…

nosing them around 
on the surface of the water…

would you be on the riverbank:

'Look how smart they are!'?"

Well, everyone got real quiet.

And she doubled down.

She said, "What about the honeybees?"

So I looked at my script.

"What about the honeybees?"

"What about the honeybees?"

"What about them?"

"What about the honeybees?"

So she said,

"Uh, the honeybees
are smarter than people."

"They know that they only need one of them
to go in a figure-eight pattern…

and wiggle its behind,

and it can let all the other honeybees
know where the flowers are."

"What if your Uncle Larry had to do that
to show you where the fridge was?"

Nobody could quench their thirst
till Uncle Larry showed up.

With his groundbreaking
communication techniques.

Well, this little circle popped me out
like a champagne cork.

"Jengus" Khan is looking over at me.

He's like, "You don't know how
to make friends, do you?"

I'm like, "I don't think so."

Man without a country.

Walk up to this third little circle.

And I'm trying to learn
how to be a better listener.

So I just decided to just say nothing.

And there was a guy there
telling everyone a story

about the lottery numbers 
that he had recently picked.

Whoo! What a story.

I'm going to try to duplicate it for you,

but it's going to be challenging,
because this guy was drilling it.

He had everyone gathered around
and he was like,

"So I got, uh, four lottery tickets."

"The, uh, first ticket, I picked a 2…

4, 7, 21, 36."

"The second ticket…

I had the 2, 5—
I had the 4 on the first ticket."

"Got the 5 on the second ticket."

"2, 5."

"16, 17, got those back-to-back
on the second ticket."

"Back-to-back, 16, 17, back-to-back…

28, 31."

"Thirty-one was the last number on—
That I got on the second ticket."

This is the story that he's sharing
with humans.

"Third ticket…

I picked a 2.  I'm always on a 2."

"You know me, I always got the 2 covered."

"I knew I had the 4 on the first ticket
and a 5 on the second,

so I got the 6
on the third. 2, 6, 17, 19."

"Decided to leapfrog over the 18."

"Leapfrog action, landed on the 19."

"43— 43 was the last number 
on the third ticket."

"Fourth ticket."

"I picked the 2." Duh.

"I don't know why 
I'm boring you with the 2."

"You know me, 
if I got a ticket, I got the 2."

"Walking down the street holding a ticket,

you don't have to look,
you know I got the 2."

"Anyway…

I knew I had the 4, 5 and 6 
on the other ticket,

so I got them all  on that fourth ticket.
2, 4, 5, 6."

"Something said, 'Get the 3.'"

"Something said, 
Go back and get that 3.'"

"Something said, 'Jump on that 3.'
Something said, 'Nail down that 3.'"

"So I get the 3.
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 17 and the 44."

"And my thinking on the 44 was…

'Hey, get the 44.'"

So as you can imagine,
everyone's jaws were agape.

So I wanted to throw the right log
on the fire to keep this baby burning.

When you got this kind of flame blazing,

you can't risk having it smolder out.

You want to throw the proper heat 
in that direction, so I was like, "Whoo!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Crazy!"

"What happened?"

"None of the tickets hit."

"Whoa!"

"What a twist at the end."

"What a curveball finish."

"I could have sworn 
that was all going somewhere."

"Could have sworn it.
But you flipped the tables."

"You managed
to follow nothing with less."

Losing lottery numbers
he shares as cocktail party banter.

So I didn't fit in with any of the groups.

So I just went over and rearranged
some bookshelves.

If I do go to a party, 
I need to stand, man.

I need to be able to pinball away
from situations.

"Bing! That's not working."

"Bing! Not for me."

"Bing! Nope!"

Sitting is way too claustrophobic.

Like a dinner party.

You don't know who
you're going to be sitting next to.

It could be two hours.
It's a crapshoot.

"Brian, you're going to be sitting here 
next to Donnie Doldrums."

"Hey, how's it going?"
"Hey, how are you? Huh."

"You missed the beginning of this.
I was telling everybody

about how our Des Moines office 
had an administrative meeting."

"And as a result of that meeting,

we realized that the factory output
in our northeast quadrant…

was substandard in relation 
to what we had anticipated

after bringing in a consulting team
from Peoria."

My face is in the mashed potatoes,

just blowing brown gravy bubbles.

"No, don't revive me. Don't revive me."

"It's in my living will. Let me be."

I don't like dinner parties.

I don't like restaurants either.

One reason is,  I don't like mushrooms.

I don't like mushrooms.

People say, "What's the big deal?"

"Just make sure 
you never order mushrooms."

All right, let me explain the problem.

There is not a food on earth 
that is more often put onto and into

other foods without anybody ever asking…

than mushrooms.

It's happened too many times to count.

"Here's that chicken dinner you ordered."

"And you'll be happy to notice…

that it is smothered…

with mushrooms."

"Oh, I did notice."

"I didn't order mushrooms.
It doesn't say mushrooms on the menu."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"You had nothing to do with this."

"We decided all by ourselves…

when we were in the kitchen,

with no input from you."

"We unilaterally decided to smother

everything you love in life…

with mushrooms!"

I don't know if I made this clear:
I don't like mushrooms.

I don't like raisins either.

Not to the degree of mushrooms,
I just don't like raisins.

But I'm intrigued when people try
to talk me into liking raisins.

Like it's a psychological flaw.

People love to go, "Brian…

do you like grapes?"

Here we go.

"Yeah. Yeah, I like grapes."

"Well…

raisins…

are just dried-up grapes!"

"Oh."

"Oh, I've loved them all along."

"I had no idea."

So I love to hit them back with…

"Do you like ham sandwiches?"

"You do?"

"Well…

would you like if I put one outside…

for three weeks…

in the broiling sun…

on a picnic table,

so it shriveled up 
to the point of unrecognizability…
and put it on a plate

and gave it to you?"

"Would you like that?"

"Well?"

"It's just a ham sandwich!"
It's not a grape now.

I do like mayonnaise.

I like mayonnaise to the degree

that it had to come 
into a New Year's resolution.

It was a New Year's resolution

that I could not order extra mayonnaise 
on my sandwiches.

I could order mayonnaise, 
but I couldn't use the word "extra."

I found out very quickly
I wasn't getting enough mayonnaise.

But I didn't want to break my resolution.
So here's how I would order lunch.

"Um, Hi. Uh…

I would like a turkey sandwich

with Swiss cheese, lettuce, and, uh…

mayonnaise!"

"You hear what I'm saying here?"

"I want mayonnaise!"

"Capital M, A, Y…

and the rest of the letters
that are necessary for 'mayonnaise.'"

Hey, I saw something interesting today
on social media.

Somebody posted a very strong 
political opinion.

And somebody replied,

"Good point. I changed my mind."

No, I'm sorry. I saw a unicorn.
I saw a unicorn.

I saw a purple glittery flying unicorn.

Here's something I've learned
about social media:

the expression "just saying"…

ain't never preceded by a compliment.

When I tweet, 
I never want to try to sound too young.

But I also don't want to sound too old.
And I saw Metallica in concert.

They're great.

I wanted to tweet that they were great,

but I didn't want to come off 
like an old fuddy-duddy.

But I also didn't want to try to sound
like a young whippersnapper.

So I settled on, "Boy, these fellas
sure know how to boogie."

I think I hit the sweet spot.

All my followers thought 
I was the cat's pajamas.

"Pajamas" is a funny word.

I like words.

What is the smallest?
"Tiny," "teeny…"

"itty-bitty…"

"itsy-bitsy…"

"teeny-weeny…"

or "teensy-weensy"?

Kind of stuff keeps me up late at night.

Scientists need to know
when they're looking in microscopes.

"I would describe this amoeba…

as itty-bitty."

"Professor, come over here. 
See if you concur."

"See if you concur 
that this amoeba is itty-bitty."

"Let me take a look at that."

"That's not itty-bitty."

"That's teensy-weensy."

How come only small stuff
gets cute nicknames?

How come we don't say the planet Jupiter
is biggy-wiggy?

"The universe is hugey-magroojy!"

I love space stuff.

I saw a scientist on TV say they know,

if they build a space probe 
to explore distant galaxies

and shoot it out,

that a hundred years from now

we'll be able to build a better, 
faster space probe

that will catch and pass that first one
before it ever gets anywhere.

So the message is clear.

Everything we do today…

is a waste of time.

We do send rovers up to Mars.

They're analyzing rocks.

And some scientists think some
of the rocks are from volcanoes.

Okay.

If they expect me to believe 
that volcanoes…

blew rocks…

all the way to Mars…

Even Vesuvius in its heyday
didn't have that kind of oomph.

We're looking for water on Mars.

We're wheeling all around
trying to find water.

Have we given up here?

I want to bring the scientists
over to my kitchen sink.

"Look what I discovered."

"When I pull this up…

water shoots out of the end
of this thing."

"How's it going on Mars?"

"Because this appears to be endless."

"Get some science jugs 
and fill those babies up,

because I have hit 
the moisture mother lode."

They're looking for water
to see if there's life on Mars.

And I've always wondered,
what if there is life on Mars…

but it's teensy-weensy?

And we're just crushing it 
with our rovers.

The camera on the front:

"Everything appears to be 
dry and desolate."

Under the wheels:

We're just mushing Martians into mulch.

"What's that green streak?"

I was 11 years old 
when we landed on the moon.

Our whole family was gathered 
around a TV.

My parents raised some good kids.
I didn't pursue a life of crime.

One reason, I remember that expression
when I was a kid:

"crime does not pay."

Crime does not pay?
That's why we shouldn't do it?

"Do you do crime?"
"Oh, well, I love crime."

"I love almost everything about crime.
Crime is fantastic."

"You don't have to sell me 
on that side of the equation."

"The reason…

the reason that I don't do crime…

and I've crunched the numbers…

it doesn't pay!"

"Sure, if it paid,
I'd be doing crime left and right."

"But crime doesn't pay,
so that's why I don't do crime."

Another crime motto even more twisted:

"Don't do the crime…

- if you can't do the time."
- "If you can't do the time."

Damn.

I'm intrigued that the motto isn't,
"Don't do the crime…

because that would be wrong."

They have to make it a choice 
between two selfish options?

"Oh, that crime? I want to do it!"

"That's a great crime.
I want to do that crime."

The problem, though,
with that particular crime,

it's 15 years in the federal penitentiary.

"I don't have the time!"

"I wish I could,
but I have a family and dreams."

"I don't have enough time
to do that crime."

"Now this crime, on the other hand,

one month in the county jail?"

"I'm doing it!"

"I have enough time.
I have enough time to do that crime."

"I base my crime decisions on how much
time I have available in my calendar."

"That's what I've been taught."

That's us teaching us.

As much as I'm against crime,

there are things we do to criminals
that I think are unfair.

I think it's unfair 
that tampering with evidence

is an additional crime 
on top of the actual crime.

Talk about piling on.

Anything that would be done naturally
during the scope of the crime

should just be part of the crime.

Tampering with evidence.

Has any criminal ever taken that 
into consideration…

when fleeing the scene of a crime?

"All right, let's get out of here!"

"Toby, what are you doing?"

"I'm wiping up the fingerprints
and getting rid of everything."

"Are you crazy?"

"That's a crime!"

"You're going to get us in trouble!"

You're not allowed to tamper with evidence
after you commit a crime.

You're not allowed.

Has any criminal ever 
not tampered with evidence…

and gotten anything out of that?

"You've been found guilty
of the crime in question."

"Your penalty: life in prison
without the possibility of parole."

"But…

we do want to note you were nice enough
not to tamper with the evidence."

"In fact, the lead investigator said
it was the most pristine crime scene…

he'd ever happened upon 
in his entire illustrious career."

"So as a tip of the hat,
you get to choose…

top bunk or bottom."

I saw a thing on the news,  a judge
dismissed a case without prejudice.

Whoa.

Shouldn't that always be the case?

How else would you do that?

"Case dismissed.
And it's because you're white like me."

"Get out of here, you knucklehead."

If the defendant does not take the stand
in his defense…

the judge has to instruct the jury
something to this effect:

"Notice in this trial the defendant chose
not to take the stand in his defense."

"You are not allowed to weigh that 
one way or the other

while considering 
the rest of the evidence."

I understand the need for instructions.
I think they should just tweak them a tad.

I think the judge should say,
"You might notice in this trial,

the defendant chose not
to take the stand in his defense."

"We just want you to know that means…

you can start validating parking."

I can't even imagine
not taking the stand in my defense

if I was innocent of something.

You imagine your lawyer asking you,

"Do you want to go tell him 
you didn't do it?"

"I'm awfully bashful."

"I know, but they're thinking of
throwing you in the electric chair, so…

maybe if you could muscle through
your discomfort."

"I'll take my chances."

"Fire up the chair, Your Honor."

"What do you want from me?"

I heard some states carry out 
capital punishment at 7:00 in the morning.

Talk about cruel.

Is that guy supposed to get some sleep
the night before?

"Yeah, I think I'm going to hit the rack."

"Get some shut-eye."

"Yup, got a short day tomorrow."

I'll tell you what should be a crime:

people boarding planes
while wearing backpacks.

If you're someone who does that,
a little heads-up:

your backpacks
are hitting people in the face.

"I only care about what's in front of me!"

"The hell with everything in my wake!"

You know when you sit 
in the emergency exit row seat

and you agree to save everyone…

how come when the flight is over,
no one thanks you?

Seriously.

It's amazing what you might have done.

You'd think someone 
would take note of that.

"Hey, I heard what went down
before takeoff."

"Thank you."

"The fact that you were willing
to put your life on the line

to save me, my family 
and all the other souls on this plane

is nothing short of outstanding."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

No, just a backpack
to the back of the head.

"I was an almost-responder!"

I like to be thanked.

That's why I know I would never be good
at that animal rescue stuff.

I wouldn't be good at it.

You ever see news footage 
of some wild horse stuck in a ravine?

They got to bring trucks in,
and chains, and harnesses,

and figure out how to get down
into the ravine,

and get the harness around this horse 
while it's going berserk,

pull this thing out
while it's kicking and going nuts,

get close enough to get the harness off
without getting hurt,

and soon as they do, 
it just hauls into the woods.

"Hey!"

I would want the horse to stop 
somewhere before the tree line.

Clippity-cloppity clip.

"Thanks."

Then do that up-on-the-hind-leg thing.

Then haul into the woods.

Am I asking for too much?

All I'm saying is if I scrub oil
off a duck with a toothbrush…

I'm going to want a little quack-you.

Turn your little duck head 
and go, "Thanks."

That's all I needed from you.

"Wouldn't have been able to do this 
without you."

"Yeah, I know."

"People are smarter than animals."

"With all due respect, I wouldn't have
oil on me if it weren't for people."

"Just saying."

"Somebody shut this stupid 
talking duck up."

"Stupid talking duck."

This is a beautiful venue. Look at this.

Amazing.

I get to play some pretty cool places.

Some places I play have an orchestra pit.

Those words don't belong together.

"Orchestra." "Pit!"

The people who work there 
look tremendous.

They come in in gowns and tuxedos.

Man, you guys look amazing.

Oh, you're in the orchestra.

"Get in the pit! Get in the pit!"

"Get down in the pit!"

"Get in the pit!"

Why do they have to dress so nice?
You can't even see them.

At the end of the show, 
they stand up and bow.

At best you see their eyebrows.
"Thank you."

"Thank you very much."

"Thank— I'm wearing $90 socks 
for some reason, thank you."

"Thank you, thank you."

You know what kills me?

When you go to a show
that has an orchestra,

how come as you're walking in,
they're practicing?

I never understood that.

You're walking in, you're hearing:

"Hey, uh…

doors are open."

"Paid a lot of money for these tickets."

"Could you all practice 
before we get here?"

"I bet we're going to be hearing
that again later."

"Bet something's going to fly 
in this show."

What is that?

You don't want to see the actor practicing
as you're walking in.

"To be, or not to—
No, too big. Too big. Bring it down."

"To be— Nope, too subtle.
Split the difference."

"To be— Oh, they're coming in."

Makes you wonder, is that
how the actor runs, or the character?

I don't understand marching bands.

I understand bands.

I don't understand marching bands.

There are many occupations in this world.

And how come none of the others
have taken on this added task?

You don't see marching taxidermists.

♪ You got to stuff that otter ♪

♪ You got to stuff it good  ♪

♪ Stuff that otter
And stick it on some wood ♪

"Why don't you sit down
and stuff the otter?"

"It might be easier if you were seated."

Yes, it's ridiculous.

So why is it normal for bands?

What group of musicians 
were sitting around…?

Don't ask what instrument
that's supposed to be.

"Hey, I got an idea."

"Why don't we kick these chairs out
from underneath us…

and start walking around and trying
to spell stuff with our bodies…

so people in blimps
know what teams we support?"

"I'm sure the tuba player
loved that idea."

"Oh, great."

"Great idea, flute person."

The marching band had to be 
a flute person's idea.

"Come on, let's march."

"Come on."

"Wait! We need straps and stuff!"

"Come on. It's easy."

"Wait! We need harnesses!"

"We're not ready!
We're not ready!"

Hey, whoever invented the bagpipes…

I don't think he's finished yet.

You ever look at that monstrosity?

He must have thought there was a deadline
at the patent office.

He probably just ran in 
and threw that on a counter.

"Am I too late?"

"What in the world is that?"

"It's a bag! With pipes stuck in it!

"I stuck the pipes in a bag!"

"Bagpipes."

"No, I see it."

"Why?"

"What does it do?"

"What does it do?
It's a bag with pipes!"

"Sticking in and out of it!"

"What does it do?"

"What does it do?"

"What does it do?"

"What…?"

What does it do?

How can you tell 
if anybody's ever playing them well?

You have a guy over here—

"He's the best."

This guy's over here—

"He doesn't know how to play that thing."

"Stick your elbow more in the bag.
Everybody knows that."

Hey, you guys are wonderful.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

You guys are great.
Really appreciate it. Good night.