This was my third attempt. It went very well. I brought along the squeeze toy again.
Thank
you, thank you. I’m David Kelly, man, is it sexy in here, is it sexy in here, or
is it just me?
You
know, I had this rash on my arm, speaking of sexy, and the doctor gave this
cream for my rash. It stung and I told the doctor that it made my arm smart. He
said, “Makes your arm smart huh? Why don’t you then rub some on your dumb ass
and then get your dumb ass outta my office?”
Anyway,
anyone know why the chicken crossed the road? Huh? Anyone? It was because Jeff
wouldn’t let it swear. “If you’re gonna swear like that, then take your dumb
ass across the road and away from my open mic.”
And
I kid Jeff about the swearing. Jeff said if I wanted to go late, I could swear
more when there’s nobody in the restaurant. Actually, I’d rather joke about
swearing than swear up here.
Jeff
told me a story, true story, about a restaurant full of seniors being subjected
to a diatribe in here on perverted sex at this open mic a year or so ago. It
really happened and we almost lost this open mic over that. And, as you know, for
seniors, it is hard to complain about your bowel movements at the dinner table when
the comic next store is talking baby sex, huh?
I
can just imagine one of those dinner time conversations.
“Oh
those comics use such filty language, don’t they?”
“Yes,
it’s just awful: the battery in my hearing aid died and I can’t hear a thing
they’re saying.”
So,
I brought along my little friend again. Squeeky the squeeze muffin. Looks like
a bomb doesn’t it. I think it’s supposed to be a muffin with a birthday candle
in it. Anyway, to an actor, you might say, “break a leg.” To a comic, is it,
“bombs away?” I don’t know. I’m still working on that one.
Any
let’s do some stuff with old squeeky here.
Last
week, I stubbed my toe.
“<<mouthed swear words>>” It hurt.
Here’s
another, last week, I watched C-SPAN. You know, a little congress on TV. Can’t
those “<<mouthed swear words>>” get anything done?
Man,
it is really is like the hotel bar in “the Shining” in here, like someone said
last week. Put it this way, this isn’t a good time to order any red rum from
the bar. Oh, what the heck, Martine, red rum for everyone! Just kidding. You
know, red rum, murder spelled backwards?
It
was in the movie. You know, movie theatre, big screen, paying for your seat.
Shutting up for 2 hours? That dark place that tells you that you can’t text or
use your cell phone for 2 hours? Am I ringing any bells here?
Nothing
separates the generations like culture and technology.
My
grandmother’s definiton of a mobile phone was a rotary phone with a 50 foot extension
cord. So when her gabby friends called, she could move the phone from the
kitchen to the den and close the door. “Because my phone conversations are none
of your bee’s wax.”
My
mother has a cell phone. Never uses it, I don’t even know her cell phone
number. “We have it for an emergency in case something happens while we’re
driving.”
Same
reason why she and her husband wear clean underwear, in case they get into an
accident.
I’m
not sure if you had this experience, but getting dressed as a kid, “make sure
you’re wearing clean underwear in case you get into an accident. Otherwise,
what would the doctor think?” Folks, I think that at the point where it comes
down to a doctor seeing your underwear, that its cleanliness is probably number
4 or 5 on the doctor’s priorty list. I think at that point, you may have some
other pressing problems to deal with, right?
What’s
the doctor going to say? “What a bloody mess, and, indeed, what a shame that
the blood stained such otherwise clean underwear?”
I
think you can rest easy about that one. I mean is that my mother’s idea of
triage? “Those over there with clean underwear are the highest priority. Those
others who should have thought twice before leaving home this morning? They can
just sit there and think for a third time till we’re ready to see them.”
So,
if you’re out of clean underwear, what are you supposed to do? Are you supposed
to make an emergency trip to Target so you can be clean underwear compliant? How
many here are clean underwear compliant? Let’s see a show of hands. Is it
important? Well, it depends.
It’s
like, what enabled that astronaut to drive 900 miles overnight to beat up her
husband’s mistress a few years ago? Depends!
Thank
you
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