Original subtitles

What are you guys doing after the show?

Modeling for a fucking art class?

Previously on I'm Dying Up Here...

What do you say you fill in for me a couple days?

- Eh... - My old lady's gonna

fucking kill me if I don't take a couple days off.

Nick, you're gonna love doing this.

So basically, it's a game show sketch

where white people try to convince us

they've suffered just as much as black folk.

What the fuck? It's just one day.

We've been going non-stop ever since this shit got picked up.

- We shooting in four weeks! - Four weeks, man.

Come on, half of the sketches are already written up.

Really?

You're telling me I can't dig up enough money

for my daughter's fucking tuition?

You think you're going to find happiness

in this fucking business?

Want to do some blow before the wedding?

Roy!

I got you.

She took a pile of shit tonight,

and spun it into gold.

All so she could plug her new club

under the guise of this fucking fiasco.

- Another place to perform. - Yeah, for fucking free.

It's a school, remember?

It's a school that no one's ever graduated from.

Synced and corrected by louvette www.addic7ed.com

It's, uh, 4:39 in the morning.

In here with

"Kenny in the Early AM."

And this one goes out to all our

early risers or late owls.

- You're in early. - Yeah.

Well, the chick I'm crashing with ran out of coffee.

You know this is just temporary, right?

Until they find a place they can slot you permanently.

Are you fucking comforting me?

Listen, bucko, you're just a morning aberration

like me getting 6 a.m. wood

after dropping Quaaludes the night before, okay?

People are going to get tired of your little

Sylvia Plath bullshit, and they are gonna want

"Kenny in the AM" back in morning drive time,

and you can fucking count on it.

You know, Kenny, KROQ's ad time has doubled

in the last month that I've been doing this sad bastard shit.

So every week, I'm this much closer

to being the number one morning drive time show in LA.

Shim sham!

- That's trademarked, asshole! - Fuck off.

Hello, and welcome to "You Think You Got It Bad."

America's game show where white people compete

to prove that they've suffered just as much as black folk.

I'm your host, Jimmy Jam Johnson.

Now our first contestant is a second generation

Irish American by the name of Colleen O'Hannahan.

Now, Colleen, it says here that you're celebrating

three years of marriage, and that you're a mother of four.

We're good Catholics, Jimmy, and you can never have enough

hungry mouths to feed, I always say.

Nice, is your husband here too?

No. He went to the pub with the kids.

He'll pick me up after, God willing.

Okay. Now, let's meet our defending champ.

She's a single mother of five. She works 50 hours a week

as a cashier at Sears...

...For minimum wage.

She calls Watts Towers her home.

Make some noise for Shaquilla Jackson.

Now, Shaquilla, are you ready to defend your title

of "You Think You Got It Bad"?

Sure am, Jimmy.

- Oof. - Whoa, whoa, hey.

- Whew. - You all right?

I'm fine, I just got shot on the way to my car this morning.

Shot, well, don't you think you need some medical attention?

Nah, the bullet went straight through.

It didn't hit no major organs, so let's play.

That's the spirit! Let's get this thing started.

Now, Colleen, why do you think you've got it bad?

My grandfather came to this country

and faced terrible discrimination.

There were signs posted everywhere

that read "No Irish need apply".

Many was the night when he went without eating.

Nice, nice. Shaquilla?

My grandfather was lynched.

I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to

give that one to Shaquilla. Ten points!

My grandmother had ten hungry mouths to feed,

and she had to take in sewing and mending

other people's garments in order to make ends meet.

My grandmother was lynched.

- Oh. - The potato famine.

Cousin lynched.

Plague, and she can't just keep saying "lynched."

- Slavery. - Damn it!

And lynching, a whole lot of lynchin'.

Colleen?

- We sunburn easily. - Ah.

I'm sorry, Colleen, but you lose.

But you still win, because you're walking

out of here a white person.

Tune in next week, as Shaquilla defends her title

against Schlomo Weinbach from Queens.

Bring on the Holocaust.

I'm your host, Jimmy Jam Johnson.

Join me next week. I'll be right here.

Unless I get pulled over, in which case,

there will just be another black dude here

that you'll probably still think is me.

So good night, everybody!

All right.

That's money, baby!

- That's some funny shit! - That's really funny,

and some groundbreaking stuff. Hey, Ralph, you got a minute?

Whoo! What's up, man?

Oh, lynching, are you fuckin' crazy?

Hey, we didn't come here to tiptoe.

The network approve this sketch?

Well, the network hasn't not approved it.

They pretty much left us alone.

Hey, the Redd Foxx negotiations are taking all their focus,

but eventually, they'll turn their attention to this,

and there's no way they're airing a sketch about fucking lynching.

It's satire.

They told us they wanted outside the box.

Trust me.

A niche audience of Black Panthers

is not the demo advertisers are clamoring for.

We need some crossover appeal.

So, put it back in the box?

Either the box, or a coffin.

Look, until the network says otherwise,

we're gonna stick to our vision,

and make the best pilot we can.

Every failure that's never seen

the light of day was somebody's vision.

This might be your vision, Ralph.

It is still their network.

Really great, guys.

Goldie.

Was anyone with him?

A comic, huh?

That's what the nurse said.

Hey.

What are the three parts of a wood burning stove?

- I don't know. - Lift, the legs, and poker.

Come on, man.

They got lasagna in the commissary today.

- Edgar. - Yeah?

- Fitzy passed. - Ah, shit.

- I loved Fitz. - Man was a legend.

I mean, it seemed like just yesterday,

he was lying there, lifeless on the ground.

Yeah. Anyway,

I got to bow out of the Bakersfield show.

You can't bow out of Bakersfield.

We're supposed to leave in three hours.

Goldie promised Fitzy an Irish wake.

So it's tomorrow.

What the hell is an Irish wake?

You lie Fitzy on a table,

and everyone drinks and parties all around him.

Haven't we already thrown him a hundred of those?

Anyway, I got to set it all up,

so you're gonna have to find someone else.

Sorry, pal.

Well, you're not gonna be hard to replace.

Hey, do you know a chimp who rides a tricycle?

- Okay. - Maybe he smokes cigars

out of his asshole...

Yeah, I could go to Bakersfield.

Great, you'll be opening for Edgar Martinez.

Edgar Martinez.

Yep, the show starts at 9 p.m.

There's something you should know about me, Mort.

Buddy, it's okay, Edgar already told me, you're an asshole.

I'm a kidder. What's on your mind?

Me opening for Edgar Martinez is like Pink Floyd

opening for Karen Carpenter, okay?

I got the couch on Carson. Edgar couldn't get the couch

from a place that sells couches.

- I headline. - Edgar Martinez is a gold mine.

Edgar Martinez is a national treasure.

Don't get me wrong, Mort, he's fine,

but Edgar's like eating soup out of a can.

I'm the full meal, okay?

I headline, or find someone else.

And he gets the line in there.

Hey, you bringing the kids tomorrow?

Oh, they're still talking about last year's

make your own sundae bar. We'll be there.

Hey, and don't start the ping pong tournament without me.

Oh, wouldn't think of it.

You're still going down, though.

Oh, we'll see about that.

So you're having a party, huh?

Oh, daughter's birthday. She's turning 12.

You know, just having a few people over, nothing fancy.

- Aw, so who's not going? - You, of course.

- Mm-hmm. - And the new guy

from hair and makeup. He was invited.

His kid has the chicken pox, so.

You are really enjoying this, aren't you?

Oh, come on, man, I can't say that not inviting you

isn't a perk of working with you, Ron.

Well, enjoy your weekend, and fuck you and yours.

Mm.

Eat shit and die, you too.

I always come on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays.

It was Friday today.

Yeah.

How you doing? You feeling any better?

It's not my favorite hotel.

We had some sad news.

Good old Fitzy passed.

- I work with him? - Yeah, yeah, you know him.

Fitzy.

When's he go up?

- Um... - Hey, Goldie.

Didn't realize this was a dinner reservation for two.

- Oh, hey, Dana. - Who is that, who is that?

It's Dana, she's got your food. It's Dana, with your food.

- Huh? - Take it away, please.

Take it away.

- I'm gonna close my eyes. - Yeah, you do that.

I'll just leave it here just in case

you get hungry later, okay?

Dana, could I have a word with you?

What are you doing here? Trying to make him worse?

It's like Cuckoo's Nest.

Well, Roy's a little sluggish after his therapy.

- Sluggish? - Something is turning that man's brain

into mashed potatoes.

- He's not himself. - Roy is himself.

He's relaxed, he's calm, he's taking his meds.

This is Roy getting healthy.

My brain may be fried,

but I can still fucking hear you.

I worry, is all.

- Well, don't. - Oh.

- I can worry, can't I? - No, don't...

Look at me like that.

Look at you like what?

I'm gonna make it to the opening next month.

We open in two weeks.

Sweetheart, you've been in here a month and a half.

Edgar, why do you need an apron to vacuum?

Yeah, fuck off.

What do you know about this gig we're performing at?

It's in Bakersfield. What else is there to know?

I don't know, I guess I'm just excited

to perform somewhere that isn't Goldie's.

"Effective, not winning." Fuck her.

It's hard to argue with the truth.

Fuck you.

You really don't think you're a dick, right?

You have a whole bit about dogs, and you hate dogs.

You pissed on your own dad's dog's grave, for fuck's sake.

- You pissed on it, too. - Yeah, but I had to go.

There was no malice in my piss. Yours was a revenge piss.

And fucking, if that ain't being a dick,

I don't know what a dick is.

- Eh, it could be worse. - How so?

I could be the guy opening up for a dick.

Come on.

Fuck.

- Registration in the car? - Yeah.

All right, when you come down...

Hello?

What are you trying to do, Cass?

Sarah, what...

What's wrong?

Your letter to Jesse.

You promised to take him to Disneyland next summer?

Yeah, well, I would love to.

I think it would be really nice to have some one-on-one time

and go on some rides and have some fun.

Funny how you never promised to take the girls

to Disneyland, which Jesse pointed out,

as he shot them at dinner with the gun you got him.

- That was my night. - Sorry.

It isn't funny, Cass. Not everything is a joke.

What were you thinking?

I... that it would be

nice for him to spend time with me,

and for us to have some fun.

As what?

Let me answer that for you, as an aunt.

Like Winnie and Paula know you, as an aunt.

We both know I'm more than that.

No, we don't.

Ever since the wedding, soon as things don't go well

for you in LA, you start looking to Jesse

to give some meaning to your life.

- That's not what I'm doing. - What do you want?

You can't have him back. You can't tell him who you are.

So what's your game plan here, Cass?

- I wouldn't tell him. - I'm not buying that.

I just... I think it's best that you leave us alone.

Wait, so you don't even want me to call you?

Look, your choices are turning my home upside down,

and I won't have it, so either you stop being

so damn selfish, or leave us the hell alone.

All right, all right, let's get this show started, huh?

Bakersfield, how you doing tonight?

Okay, keep it going for your, uh, bartender,

because that's who I know you really came to see, huh?

Who here likes tequila? I love tequila.

But guess what? Tequila does not love me.

I drank so much tequila the other night,

that I blacked out, right?

And then I woke up, and I was so scared about the blackout,

that I ran and grabbed my friends,

and I told them how scary the blackout was,

and then I realized

I was already in another blackout.

- That's funny because... - Get off the stage, beaner!

You know what?

I might. I think I actually will get off the stage.

Ha ha, because that's my time! Thank you very much.

All right, you guys ready for your headliner?

Uh, this next guy, you may have seen on Carson,

if you were taking time out from your busy schedules

of burying people in the desert

and punching old ladies in the vagina.

Whatever you guys do for fun.

Big round of applause for Bill Hobbs!

Let him hear it!

All right, got them warmed up for you, headliner, enjoy it.

You had 20 more fucking minutes, asshole.

Hey, uh, one more time for, uh,

Edgar Martinez.

Edgar Martinez, huh?

So I'm, uh, not married, I don't have any kids, uh...

Maybe one day, you know?

Come on, guys, it's a good one.

Uh, dogs have it right, don't you guys think

they've got the right idea?

- All right. - Not all right.

Uh, they'll sniff... uh, sniff at each other's asses...

Cheers, yeah!

The mouth on this motherfucker.

Hey, mister, uh, 187. Yeah, you.

Is that what it says on your little badge?

Why don't you serve me one of those fucking beers, huh?

What do you say? Yeah, no?

I'm talking to you, looking right at you,

and your motley crew of out-of-work mall Santas there.

I'm thirsty, I'm quite parched from

making my way all across California

to get up here to Shitsville, USA.

This your, uh, your gang of buddies

that you're with, there, huh?

It's a cute little gang. I like your vests.

I like those a lot, you know?

Got little merit badges, like Girl Scouts.

You know, what is that, you got one stab, one rape,

and then one sewing, that's good.

Like, somebody had to make those, I guess, right?

Good for you guys, man.

Hey, nothing says straight male other than

riding around on a bicycle with other men in matching outfits.

That's not a gay thing to do, whatsoever.

You guys are guys, huh?

You put your penises in women, don't you?

Beautiful women, women that look like catcher's mitt's.

What's the name of your little, uh, your gang?

- Satan's Hounds, asshole. - Mm-hmm.

Satan's Hound's Asshole. Okay, wow.

The asshole of a hound. Satan's Hound's Asshole.

So you guys are inside Satan's dog's butthole.

Wow, that's hotter than hot, I would imagine, right?

I'm sure you guys came in on a bus, too,

except yours was short, wasn't it?

Especially you, with that wonky eye.

- Sir, it's just a comedy show. - Excuse me, can we get paid?

Bunch of fucking mall Santas sitting around.

What do you guys do in the off-season?

You fuck the elves?

If I could just get the money now, that'd be great.

You know who I am, Mr. 187?

Papa 187, I'm your fucking dad. That's right.

Because I threw my hog, right here, inside your mom.

I just went out and stuck it inside of her.

I slid it in, and I let it soak, baby.

It glowed when it was inside of her.

It was unbelievable. It's orange, and see-through.

But inside of your mom?

Could see it for miles, like a lighthouse.

I swam inside, and you came out.

We're not happy, but I got to tell you, I'll take it.

Son, why don't you give Daddy a beer?

Holy shit, holy shit.

Yeah, right on.

- Thanks, man. - Yeah.

Hey, to Satan's Hound's Assholes!

Yeah!

Fuckin' A, Bakersfield!

Yes!

Why would you want to cut the sketch?

I didn't say cut all of it. Just trim it a little.

- Like what? - The lynching references.

Oh, come on, man, you ain't just trying to trim.

You pulling fucking teeth.

Do you want this show on the air?

- You know I do. - Then listen to me.

Sponsors ain't gonna spend dime one

on a show making reference to lynching.

White people find lynching offensive?

Basically.

Wasn't the time for them to find it offensive

when they was doing the shit?

Adam, I don't disagree with you.

But look, let's get the show on the air.

Then we'll make our stand. We got to be smart right now.

Pick our fights.

Hey, you trust me, right?

You know I trust you.

All right.

So what's as equally as fucked up,

but not offensive to whitey?

That's the challenge, Adam. That is the challenge.

You know 187 is the California

penal code for murder, right?

Yeah, well, that's pretty appropriate,

because that's exactly what I did inside of there, Edgar.

I fucking murdered.

- Yeah. - Hey, Daddy 187.

Hey.

Be cool, Edgar.

What's with him?

Nothing, that's just, uh, where he keeps his spine.

- You a funny motherfucker. - Thanks, man.

Hey, if you guys are ever in LA,

I'm always at Goldie's on the Sunset Strip,

so call the club, I'll get you comped.

Fuck yeah, we're always in LA. Definitely take you up on that.

Right on, thanks for being so cool.

About that being so cool part.

You got me pretty good in there,

and I got a reputation to uphold.

So I'm gonna kind of have to hurt you.

- Kinda hurt me? - Yeah.

Like on a scale of one to ten?

Probably a nine, or death.

But I like you, so I think a seven should cover it.

Any chance of getting that reduced to like, a five?

Wait, wait, wait...

Come on, man, okay...

Somebody help him!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, mall Santas!

Mall Santas! I love that.

That kills me every time.

We'll see you in LA.

So now you help, huh?

Right, because I'm gonna be a human piñata

'cause you can't read an audience that can't read?

And besides, why should I help somebody

who thinks I'm Karen Carpenter, right?

Who has a beautiful voice, by the way.

Yeah, what, to your Pink Floyd? Is that what you said?

Mort told you that?

- It might have come up. - Motherfucker.

What kind of booker...

I'm gonna kick that guys' ass.

Yeah, no, you can't, 'cause he's old.

Do you know where his office is?

You have bruised ribs. You're not going anywhere.

You practically cried when you farted in the car.

- For him to tell you that... - I'm Mort.

- What? - I'm Mort.

It's me.

I've been doing the voice.

Well, it's me and Arnie. He shares it with me.

Because we started getting calls from club owners,

and we knew Goldie wouldn't let us book ourselves,

so I became Mort.

And we got a lot of gigs, and had to expand our stable.

So Mort's ten percent?

Which, you can keep Mort's ten percent, that's yours.

No, fuck it, you deserve it.

You got me work, Edgar. That's what a booker does.

So you're not gonna tell Goldie?

Fucking Goldie?

Why the fuck would I tell Goldie?

It's... some shit gig in Bakersfield

has the money to pay us, but she doesn't?

And then she thinks she can tell us

what we can and can't do?

Yeah.

Fuck Goldie, Edgar.

So you... You didn't mean what you said?

The Karen Carpenter thing?

I'm sorry.

You know I didn't mean it, I...

I just wanted to headline, man.

It's been such a shit year.

Maybe I am just a dick.

I wouldn't call you that.

You call me a dick all the time.

- I do? - Yeah, a lot.

I just...

I just think, onstage, that you're trying to be the hero,

but maybe you're the villain.

Because the villain murdered last night.

I'm gonna get some ice.

You here to tell me about a home loan?

Ah, Fitzy's wake in an hour. Get dressed.

You know, my ex-wife gave me this...

Can we call her Trudy, please?

Because she said that I reminded her

of Jonathan Livingston Seagull?

A bird who flew higher than all the other birds.

I'm hooked.

Why don't you tell me more on the car ride over?

Man, I...

I don't think I'm up for a wake right now.

Ah, come on.

We'll get hammered and pay our respects.

- I guess. - Great.

So why doesn't Jonathan Livingston Seagull

take a little shower, and I'll meet you upstairs.

Eddie, what do you think of me?

What do you mean, what do I think of you?

I mean, like, you know,

I know... I know that you're my best friend, and that, um...

What do you... what do you really think of me?

Hm.

Well, I think you're a great guy...

Who could use a shower.

It smells like a cholera outbreak down here.

Yeah.

All right, I'll see you in a minute.

Seriously, Ron.

You're a great guy.

- Look what I found! - Oh, shit!

What the fuck are you doing here?

- We already had your wake. - It's so weird to be back.

It's like I'm visiting junior high school.

Everything is smaller, except Ralph.

- Fuck you. - Ah, Sull!

It's good to see you almost still have it, bud.

Why does Fitzy look better than Bill?

Road gig, Bakersfield. Not the sleepy town you think.

Oh, I'm sorry I missed your comedy special,

but I had to blink.

I am so sick of that excuse.

- Hi. - Sully!

I would have come sooner.

Who knew Fitzy would hang on so long?

Oh, yeah. Oh, thank you, sweetheart.

Open bar in honor of Fitz.

Let's get this wake started.

Who wants to make a toast, anyone?

Oh, me.

Uh...

To Fitzy, Goldie's would never be the same

without an alcoholic hack

that never wrote any jokes, you know?

Oh, Ron, hey!

Hey, to Fitzy's favorite thing: booze.

The coroner report said his liver

was so black and damaged, Nick fucked it in my bed.

Wow, you still ain't over that?

No, and I never will be.

On the one side, you got to see my balls

without having to lift up the sheet while I was asleep, so.

I did like that. That I liked, really.

All right, if all the comedians could raise their glass,

and just remember that it doesn't

end well for a lot of us.

I mean, there's suicide, there's alcoholism,

there's the drugs.

All right, and there's even the more grisly deaths

- that we rarely talk about. - Yeah.

Like the ones that Nick suffers onstage

every time he walks up there.

Yeah, fuck you.

Let's stop focusing on Fitzy's drinking,

and his passing out and wetting himself.

That would be unfair.

It would be like focusing on Ron's acting.

Or, wait, Cassie's choice in men.

Hey, Fitzy really was the best lay.

Or Goldie's payroll!

To Fitzy, he died without money, fame, dignity,

but he paved the way for many countless comics,

and by countless, I mean Arnie and Edgar.

Hold on, hold on, my turn, my turn, all right?

You know, we give Fitzy shit,

but he was a great comic.

In fact, the only job he didn't excel at was pool boy.

Well, Ron's party killed him, right?

Fuck you, okay? I didn't kill him.

I was trying to save his life.

Hey, Ron, you know, drinking whiskey out of a coconut,

that's not a cure for alcoholism, right?

You know about that? It's not gonna work, yeah.

All right, all right, okay, okay, everybody, settle down.

Four years ago, when Fitzy had his first heart attack,

he wrote this will, and I have had it

in my office ever since.

I, James Seamus Fitzpatrick...

Being of sound mind and body...

Actually, I'm drunk, and fat, but nevertheless,

hereby bequeath to Edgar all of my Mexican jokes,

including "Where do Mexican girls go

to pray during the week?"

Planned Parenthood.

That's right, you got it, finally.

And what do you call a Mexican hitchhiker?

- Stranded. - And now,

my Dictaphone joke, I'm taking to the grave.

Sorry, assholes, write your own surefire punchlines.

And to Goldie, thanks for giving me a home.

Yours would have been nicer.

Eh, could have used a working shower.

But I had a home onstage, and for that,

I will be forever grateful.

I also have a confession.

I've been in love with Gina, the waitress from Canter's

but never had the nerve to ask her out.

I never had one to ask her in, either.

So unless she's, uh, the one reading this, I never did.

Maybe I'll ask her out in heaven, I'll play it by ear.

A man comes into my office, he says,

can I use your Dictaphone?

I say no, you use your finger like everybody else.

- I know you don't want to hear it... - Then don't say it.

But I want to tell you that I am sorry.

And I know it doesn't fix anything,

and it doesn't make anything better,

but I really am truly sorry.

Thanks, but I'm already attending a wake, you know?

We got to talk about this.

I mean, are we ever gonna talk about this?

Me, no. You, apparently, yes.

Eddie, I love you, and I know...

Can you just... can you stop with the free food for one second?

I love you, and I know that I hurt you.

And I just want us to talk about it...

Stop, Cass.

This is not a bump in the road, okay?

You fucked Nick, a friend.

There is no getting past that.

- Hey! - Hey!

- Hello. - Welcome.

- Hi. - You all right?

- You all right? - Yeah, man, I'm fine.

I didn't like that motherfucker anyway.

Married?

Well, that's kind of a strong word for what it was.

It was more of a catered fire drill.

I can't tell you how good it is to see you.

Me too.

Though I do watch you all the time on Watts Local.

Ugh, my catchphrase.

You could describe my whole character on a mug.

I hate it.

Ronnie.

I've been reading this book, um, it's about... a bird.

I mean, the book is about wanting to do more,

like, be more, and how that can make

other people around you hate you.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

- Yeah, that's the book. - "The speed was power."

The speed was joy. The speed was pure beauty."

Well, I haven't read the whole thing yet,

but I think I'm coming up on that part.

Um, right now, it's a lot of soaring.

It's my favorite book in the whole, wide world.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull is why I'm in acupuncture school.

Oh, you're learning acupuncture, that's cool.

I wanted more, too, like JLS.

I mean, the old me wanted to be Carol Merrill,

and then, I realized just how limiting

pointing at appliances was for a living.

And then, that was just the other seagulls

trying to keep me down.

So now, I'm doing something more fulfilling.

And helping people.

It's funny, you know, 'cause...

Like, I'm successful, and I got money, and cars,

and the big house, and like,

more shit than I ever dreamed of having,

but I'm not happy.

Maybe you have the wrong dream.

Are dreams returnable?

Close your eyes.

Imagine the place where you felt the most

like Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

The most creative and free.

Soaring.

What?

- It's way too stupid. - Nothing is stupid.

I bought something.

What?

Something totally impractical

that I haven't told anybody about, not even Eddie.

Then tell me.

No. I'll show you.

- Okay. - Come on.

Hey, uh, not to talk business,

but what's up with the rewrite of the game show sketch?

Sounds like business.

Feels a little more Sonny and Cher than Ralph and Adam.

All right, now, you can't go shit talking

Sonny and Cher now, all right?

Ralph's connection with Ed is the only reason

why we are what we are.

Well, I can't piss off my daddy with this.

Pissing off your daddy will just come later.

This a long con.

Get yourself on the air first, and then cut loose.

Can't piss Daddy off if we ain't on TV, yeah?

Ain't that right, Ralph?

Man speaks the truth.

All right, no disrespect. Y'all's vision.

- Damn straight. - Right.

Thank you.

What do you think the point is of a deathbed confession?

Uh, I don't know.

Save all your secrets, blurt them out, disappear.

You don't have to deal with anyone's judgment after?

Yeah, I guess.

I don't know, not every truth needs to see the light of day.

No, by all means, let them eat away at your stomach lining.

- Okay, good talk. - Sorry.

I'm the last guy you owe an apology to.

Sadly, you're not.

What's your deathbed confession?

No.

No, you don't get to just flip ahead to the last page.

Oh, come on, you puked on my neck.

Don't I deserve a little, itty-bitty deathbed confession?

I guess I'll wish I enjoyed shit more.

Meaning?

I just take all this shit too serious, you know?

Want to get out of here?

Yeah, I'll get out of here.

- You want to get out of here? - No.

I feel like that's how we got in trouble

in the first place, but...

- Let's go. - Go where?

Someplace fun that doesn't end in us staring

at the ceiling sharing a cigarette.

Come on.

A framed photo with Jack Paar from 20 years ago.

That's the thing that meant the most to him?

Yeah, it's not exactly Tut's tomb up here.

We've all been to his place, so it's either that,

or a dirty glass with whiskey crud at the bottom of it.

He spent the majority of his life

in a one-bedroom apartment, drunk, penniless, and unknown.

Hey, you know Edgar can hear you, right?

Oh, shut the fuck up, Sully.

It feels like forever since I've been able to say that.

This is why I quit the business.

I want more at the end of the day

than just a picture with Jack Paar.

Oh, please, there's no way you don't miss it.

I know you don't believe it, Bill,

but you know, outside of this club,

there's an entire world going on.

It's this wonderful thing called life.

I'm married with a kid, another one on the way.

A steady job, and when I crash on a couch, it's my own.

Well, good for you, Sull. But this is our life.

It was Fitzy's, he deserved better.

Just like we do.

You know, Goldie paying for his wake

and a few remaining bills is nice,

but the time for her to pay for things

was when he was still alive.

You know, I actually thought you quit the business

because you were a horrible comedian.

But it's nice to know that life thing.

To Fitzy.

Or we could just drink.

Oh, my God.

Are you having a good time?

Uh, actually, yeah, yes.

Thanks for winning me my bear.

Sure, best $22.50 I ever spent.

Hopefully that makes up for the audition...

Oh, no history today.

Only rides, sugar, and horses!

Here we go, here we go, here we go!

Come on, you little leprechaun.

Should I try to prevent those?

Where was the last place you saw your daddy?

There.

Well, how about we go over there together

and try to find him?

I can't.

I can't go with strangers. He's gonna be mad.

No, no, no, he might be upset, but...

What if he hates me now for not listening?

No, he's not gonna hate you.

I promise.

Hey, hey.

What if we walk behind you?

You know, to make sure that you're all right,

while you find him.

Okay, because then, you're not really walking with us, right?

Would that be okay?

Yeah? Okay.

Lead the way.

Look at you, springing into action.

Uh, it's a good rule, you know, just needs a little bending.

It's funny the way kids make sense of things.

What do you mean?

Him thinking that his father would hate him

for getting lost, I mean, who could hate

a seven-year-old boy?

Daddy!

We've been looking all over for you.

Hi.

Good, huh? Oh, thank you, darling.

I ever tell you about the time I saw Pryor?

Psh. Do you even know another story?

Don't be a asshole.

I'm... I'm not talking about when I was drunk with him.

I'm talking about the first time I saw his act.

Mm, no.

Finally, I don't have to move my lips along

while you tell a story.

I had only been in LA, uh, a week.

You know, and I came here to see him.

And uh, he was all fucked up.

And it just got bad, you know?

And he got quiet.

And then, somebody from the audience screamed:

"Richard, we love you!"

And...

And he just stood there, and it was silent.

And real quiet-like, he said, "I love you, too."

It was almost like his mask had fell off

in the middle of his act.

And they were handing it back to him.

Then the rest of his act just became about

him being drunk and bombing.

But they dug it.

That's how powerful his shit is.

The man even fails like a genius.

I want that.

I want to be a man who can fail like a genius.

I still can't believe you bought this.

Well, it was kind of an impulse buy.

The impulse being cocaine and whiskey.

I think it's fucking awesome.

- Really? - Yeah.

I mean, they were just gonna close it down.

It barely cost anything.

Well, does it make you happy?

Yeah, it really does.

I mean, when we were kids, me and my friends,

we lived at our roller rink, you know?

It had everything, cute girls,

me and my buddies goofing around.

I was pretty good too.

I could do all those fancy tricks and stuff.

I mean, I'd fall on my ass half the time,

but it didn't matter, you know? You just got up, kept going.

Jonathan Livingston Shack.

You were just living your true self, Ronnie.

- You really think so? - I know it.

- Yeah, hello? - Hi.

I'm looking for Eddie Zeidel.

Uh, this is Eddie. Who's this?

It's Sarah, Cassie's sister.

Sister/cousin. How are you?

Good.

I know we've never met,

but she gave me your number once,

and I really need to ask a favor.

Okay, um, Sarah, is everything okay?

We had a fight about Jesse. I know she means well,

but she really needs to learn some boundaries.

Boundaries with... with Jesse?

I said some harsh things to her.

I was just upset, and Jesse can't have two mothers.

I know she gave birth to him and all,

but it's not fair to any of us, especially Jesse.

Sure, yeah, that... makes sense.

I'm kind of desperate here.

I thought you being her boyfriend and all,

maybe you could help?

Has she said anything about the fight, or...

No.

Do you think you could talk to her?

Explain things, 'cause...

I think she'll listen to you,

and I'm blue in the face over here.

Why are you forgiving me?

Why not?

My eyes were open.

I met this priest at a coffee shop.

His bicycle with a confessional strapped to the back.

He was giving out penance to these hookers.

Where the hell are you having coffee?

He said we have to forgive our monsters.

Or our transgressors.

You ever think maybe we're the monsters we have to forgive?

You said, who could hate a seven-year-old boy?

And I have.

- What's this? - A rewrite.

This is the same shit that we started with.

- What's going on? - I fucked it up.

Now I'm un-fucking it up.

But why change your mind now, man?

- We about to shoot this shit. - I know, I know.

I don't got an explanation. I just... I lost my way.

Come on, Ralph, man, you scaring me now.

Hey, Adam, I'm scared shitless. I cost you a bundle on this.

You put your faith in me, and not to mention,

I got all my eggs in this basket too.

Yeah, but you told me, back in 'Nam,

scared is when you did your best thinking.

It is, and that's why we going back

to what we originally wrote together.

That, and it's fucking hilarious.

- Well, let's do this thing. - Let's do it, come on.

Can we talk a sec?

It's 11 o'clock in the morning.

Aren't "The Three Stooges" on somewhere?

That should prove how important this is.

I need you to hear me out, Gold.

- I-I have a proposal for you. - Goodie.

I know you don't want to pay the comics.

- Oh, for... - Just listen, please.

I know it's a school. I respect that.

But most of the comics that perform here for free

are either broke or barely hanging on.

I was with a comic who killed the other night,

and couldn't afford a hamburger after.

I think I have a compromise you'll agree with.

Who said I wanted a compromise?

What if we raised the price at the door one buck?

And the comics who don't headline,

they get to split that extra buck.

- It won't cost you anything... - I am not paying

these young comics a red cent. The guy can go get a job.

That's what everybody's always done.

There are other clubs opening, you know.

I know, I'm opening them.

So that's it?

It will cost you zero, and you still won't consider it?

You know, Billy, you're like a cat

bringing its master a dead mouse.

Thinking it's a gift.

I think we're done here.

That's one opinion.

So in the scene where you come to the door

wrapped in toilet paper, you know,

after the neighborhood kids TP you,

it would be great if you said "It's Benny time!"

You know, like the toilet paper's covering your mouth?

And you... Why am I even asking you?

You'll probably be eating a bagel

when you read it anyway.

Ernie...

Thank you.

Well, don't thank me, it's my job.

No, I mean, uh, for everything.

Oh, well... you're welcome, Ron.

Everybody, could I have your attention?

This will just take a second.

I quit.

Ron, knock it off. We got a table read here.

Hey, Ron, you've had your laugh.

Ron?

Okay, someone get me that fucking asshole's

fucking asshole agent on the phone.

It's about control.

You go in thinking Goldie's only for the money,

that's just like bringing a knife to a gun fight.

Thanks.

I think I'm still buzzed from the wake.

Yeah, I got to say, man,

the Irish know how to do it right.

A black funeral, there's always somebody grandma

pulling the grandpa out the coffin and wailing.

Five minutes later, she's on her second glass of wine

and fifth finger sandwich.

I wonder what happened to Roy, you know?

He and Fitzy were tight.

You'd think he would have shown up for that

out of the woodwork, and send him off.

He's just busy.

He's in the loony bin.

My mom says he's really out of it.

Roy? No shit?

Thanks for the hit.

That changes everything.

No Roy, and her club opening in two weeks?

- How so? - Leverage.

Without Roy, Goldie's gonna need

her best comics to perform.

Yeah, but she's still got 100 comics

that will do whatever she wants for even stage time.

That's right, that's right, Edgar.

That's why this is a bigger conversation.

We need to get all the comics together.

- To do what? - Take action.

What, are we going to show up at her house

with torches and pitchforks and demand that she pay us?

That's very Cinco de Mayo of you, Edgar,

but I'm thinking more along the lines of organization.

You mean like a strike?

That's exactly what I mean. A strike.

Because if it's about control,

let us be the one that has it for once.

No comedians, no comedy club.

I like the way you think with that weed.

You know, I do feel sharp.

You're still gonna drive drunk, though.

Hey, it's just a bunch of beers.

Hey.

Can I come in?

Yeah.

Sup?

Why didn't you tell me about Jesse?

Did Nick tell you?

Wow, you really don't make things easy, huh?

No, no, it was your cousin...

Sister/cousin Sarah,

She called worried.

She... she, uh...

Assumed that we were together, because, obviously,

you didn't tell her what you did.

And she thought that you'd have shared something like that with me.

I wanted to tell you.

I really... I tried to tell you a lot of times.

But you didn't.

Which is fine, that's your choice, you know?

But it just proves to me that you were never fully all in.

That you didn't give a shit.

That the whole thing was a fucking lie.

That's not fair. You can't know that.

- How do I not fucking know that? - You can't fucking know that,

because have you ever given away a baby?

I'm sorry I don't have your fearless vulnerability, Eddie.

That is not something that I just blurt out.

I know I fucked up with us, I know that.

And I am sorry, and I should have told you,

but I am done.

I forgive myself.

So until you are ready to talk to me

like an actual human being,

and not like some gambler waltzing in here

with a full house, then you can leave.

Here's the door.

Oh, hey, hon, could you ask Arnie

to tell the bartender to get that other till down here?

I want to get the hell out of here.

What happened?

I think I fucked up.

Synced and corrected by louvette www.addic7ed.com