Original subtitles

- sync and corrections by Mr. C - - www.addic7ed.com -

Well, but, we'll find out.

Uh, uh, I'm glad you're in a good mood tonight.

Uh, my next guest is a very funny comic,

making his first Tonight Show appearance.

He's a former Bostonian.

Will you please give a warm welcome to Clay Appuzzo?

Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today

Congratulations, ladies.

Congrats, by the way. Big court win.

Abortion is legal.

Yes.

Clap for that. Clap for that, guys.

That's a big win for us too.

That's fantastic, man.

How pissed are back-alley abortionists?

There goes six months of veterinary school

right down the drain.

My mom had six children. I'm one of six.

And according to her, we were all accidents.

Six accidental pregnancies.

We figured it out by now, haven't we?

This whole penis-vagina conundrum, right?

It's not the Manhattan Project.

Not a bunch of scientists standing around a baby

in a room going, well, I-I don't know how this got here.

I'm not quite sure I understand.

Yes, Professor Einstein?

Um, yeah, I just... I have...

I just have a hunch, if you will.

Maybe, perhaps, the babies are coming from the fucking?

Do you think it's from the fucking?

That's just my opinion.

Watch out. I got my eye on you.

Yes.

Tastes like tens and twenties.

Hey, Rob.

Hey, Goldie.

So you killed it at the Store last night.

You know, I-I wanted to be here,

but, you know, the only open spot

wasn't until after one.

Well, a lot of good comics go up after one.

Oh, I agree. I just, you know,

I have to be up at work at seven.

Totally understand.

I just don't give a shit.

Uh, okay, Goldie, well, it's just one fucking night, right?

Caught my ex getting a blow job in our office.

Took a fountain pen and stuck it through his hand.

That was one fucking night too.

Okay.

Goldie.

What the...

Rob, uh, he made a mistake.

And although I find the punishment harsh,

I do find it just.

Can I have his five minutes, please?

What's up, Carl?

People sitting in my booth's what's up.

Fuck.

Can I sit you somewhere else, please, just for tonight?

You know who I'm bringing here tonight?

- Charlie... - Callas.

Yeah, that's right, smart guy.

You're gonna tell an American treasure

he's gotta sit in the back?

All right.

Yeah, that's been my booth since the joint opened.

Should fuckin' know better.

Prick.

Hi.

How 'bout some free drinks? Does that sound good?

Where the fuck are my onion rings?

They're not drinking if they don't get their salt.

Somebody call me when Clay goes up.

Drunk dentist with a pair of fondue forks...

Uh, what else?

Oh, I got myself a pet rock. He's very sweet.

He was a rescue. I rescued him off the street.

He was a stray.

Pet rocks are great.

He's very protective of me.

I was not expecting that. It's funny.

Anytime my boyfriend says something mean,

he just jumps out of my hand and hurls himself at his head.

Try to get him to stop, but he won't.

Show us your tits!

You first, sir.

Ladies and gentlemen, chivalry is not dead.

Hey, why don't you suck my dick?

Oh, what a sweet invitation.

I have not been asked out on a date in a long time.

Oh, there's a bunch of y'all, huh?

So what's the occasion?

It's my bachelor party.

- Whoo! - Yeah.

Well, what are you doing in here?

That hooker in the trunk ain't gonna bury herself.

A man comes into my office.

He says, can I use your Dictaphone?

I say, no, you use your finger

like everybody else.

Come on, you bastards, get off your high horses.

Hey, Goldie, sit.

Ah, that's a funny one.

Adam Proteau. What do you think?

I think I got more hair on my lip

than he does on his nuts.

Can you stick him in The Cellar?

Fleischer and Stephenson

open mic'd for over a year.

Trust me, if they'd spent a little more time and sweat

building the Titanic,

the word would still just mean "big."

Hey, Kay,

another Rob Roy, neat

for my friend Carl, huh?

Hey, pal, nice shirt.

Who... who'd you blow, Don Ho, for that shirt?

Yes.

There you go.

- Thank you, sir. - Thank you.

Well, we'll... we'll find out.

Uh, I'm glad you're in a good mood tonight.

Uh, my next guest is a very funny comic,

making his first Tonight Show appearance.

Uh, he's a former Bostonian.

Will you please give a warm welcome to Clay Appuzzo?

Thank you.

Everyone, I... look,

I just want to... I want to be clear.

I'm not just a Bostonian.

I'm an Italian Bostonian.

We still talk with our hands, but we only use one finger.

So I grew up with a lot of brothers and sisters.

Italians used to have big families before television.

But now they only have kids when there's nothing good on.

But that's what they do, Italian parents.

They send mixed messages.

You mess up in school, Dad gives you the belt.

But then two minutes later, Mom comes in with a bowl of pasta.

So, I mean, that's how Italians love to do it.

They like to follow their violence

with a little something to eat, right?

So...

May I suggest the Alfredo...

With your beating?

The cream sauce really soaks up the tears.

Hey, you do know when Arnie flashes the light,

that means to get the fuck off stage, right?

I get off the stage when they stop fucking laughing.

Uh, laughing, Ralph, is the noise that people make

when they hear something funny.

Shut the fuck up, Sully.

- How's he doing? - He's killing.

Great.

"Great"?

That's not your "great" face, Bill.

That's the "why don't Johnny fuckin' love me" face.

How did they not shoot you in 'Nam?

There's nothing but bamboo

over there; what tree could you

have possibly fuckin' hid behind?

Yeah, are black hippos sacred over there?

- Shh, shh. - First of all, y'all saw

the pictures, I was lean and mean in 'Nam.

Charlie was terrified of me.

Called me "The Black Beast."

Black beast, that's what they call you at McDonald's.

- Black beast. - Fuck you, Sully.

Always talking shit. You know what?

When the revolution come, motherfuckers,

you on your own.

Guys, I'm trying to hear Clay.

Hear what?

His act is practically a sing-along.

Bill, I love you like a raging yeast infection,

but shut the fuck up.

- Gross. - Mm.

Come on over.

Oh, my God!

What?

- Oh, my God. He got the couch. - Wow.

Suddenly I don't feel so pretty anymore.

Holy shit! Holy shit!

Whatever.

Wow.

Yeah, get your bitter ass out of here, Bill.

Got the couch.

That's all she wrote.

I told Frank Johnny'd eat him up.

How are you?

Ah.

He smells good.

He always has.

Don't get too close. You'll lose a finger.

Very funny stuff.

So you get back to Boston much?

Well, I-I try to make it back for all the major funerals.

Ah, uh-huh.

Yeah, you can fly free when someone dies

so I try to plan my vacations around my dying relatives.

Oh, Uncle Sal's not doing so good, aye?

Oh, well, that's... that's sad. That's very sad.

Any chance he'll be, uh, hanging in there

till opening day at Fenway?

What do you think happens when we die?

Well, Cass,

I don't really know.

Shut up.

Don't make fun of my accent. I'm working on it.

Oh.

Well, I think it was Buddha that said it best.

"You shit yourself.

And then it's anybody's guess."

You know, they say when you come you die a little bit.

Is that why you don't want to come anymore?

You afraid of dying?

Fear of death is, um,

not my issue.

Fear of irrelevancy.

Now, that scares the shit out of me.

So what is it then?

Why don't you want to come with me anymore?

You know who Edmund Hillary is?

Are you fucking the guy who climbed Everest?

He risked everything to reach the summit.

And when he finally stood on top of the world,

you know how long it was for?

Mm-mm.

Fifteen minutes.

All that excitement,

anticipation,

blood, tears, and excruciating pain...

all of it for a measly 15 minutes.

And on his way down,

he and Tenzing, his trusty Sherpa,

celebrated with soup.

It's the climb, Cass.

It's all about the climb.

I sure hope the soup was good.

All right, let's hear it for Cora, everybody.

Huh, isn't she great?

The lovely, sweet, talented Cora.

Easy!

Very special lady, that Cora.

What, do you got a fuckin' train to catch?

I should be counting my tips right now.

Speaking of tips, uh,

any chance of sliding mine into your mouth for a second?

No. You got two minutes.

By the way, a five-dollar discount on a hand job,

kind of a shitty going-away present.

All right, everybody. Time to go.

Closing time.

Your soul-crushing existences await you.

Fuck you, Jew.

Ah, "Jew." Such a versatile word.

It's both a people and an insult.

Tell me, pal, is there a Mrs. Drunken Shithead at home?

How'd you like a fucking beating, huh?

Aren't you worried if you, uh, get blood on your knuckles

your wife will think you're seeing another woman?

Cocksucker.

"Cocksucker." Another gem.

Let me guess. Lit major?

Or is this just a game where... where you and I

blurt out hobbies you think your mother and I share?

You're dead, asshole.

I don't think so, you fucking hard-on.

Hey, Lou, you want to take care of this guy for me?

- Lou? - No fucking Lou.

- Lou? - No Lou.

Fuck me.

I think Z's in trouble.

Would you focus, Carol?

'Cause if I'm being honest,

you're doing kind of a subpar job here.

Okay, it's like I'm jerking off left-handed.

Trust me, pal, you don't want to do this.

- Okay, trust me. - Yeah, why the fuck not, huh?

Full disclosure, I'm asthmatic.

- I have asthma. - Shit, shit, shit.

It's like hitting a guy with fucking glasses, it's cowardly.

Plus, a fucking guy from Southie

beating up a minority,

it's not a lot of points for originality.

Yeah?

You're lucky that Carol's got palms like a fucking teamster.

Come on, we gotta be at Logan in two hours.

Thank you. You've been a great crowd.

So, Cass, should we talk about the elephant in the room?

- Not you, Ralphie. - Shut the fuck up.

- That being? - Come on.

It didn't singe your sissy a little

seeing your ex-boyfriend get the couch?

Sorry, but I'm not ten.

- Yeah, but you're human. - Exactly.

Thus I can transcend pettiness

and actually be happy for someone

without it reflecting back on me and my career.

Did she just say "thus"?

Did she say "career"?

Fuck you guys.

You're full of shit. I'm jealous.

I'm practically shitting blood sitting here

thinking about it, and you should be too.

Every other comic's success,

every set he kills,

every Merv, Johnny,

or Dinah-fucking-Shore appearance

another comic makes is one more

that we didn't get.

Every laugh should feel like

a sharp poke in your fucking eye.

If it doesn't, get the fuck out.

'Cause you don't care enough.

There it is.

- You know what? - Fantastic.

That's a motherfucking two-thirty in the morning

pancake speech right there.

Fuck you. And fuck you.

Oh, man, if you were queer, I would just

suck your dick right now. So beautiful.

You know what? I'll do it.

- Uh-uh, uh-uh. - Let me in there.

- I'm going in. - Get that dick.

Oh!

Can I just enjoy my plate of latkes one night

without you two pretending to blow each other?

- Waitress! - Get the check!

Check! Hurry the fuck up, check!

Why you gotta make this ugly?

Call an ambulance.

Do you think I'll ever play The Main Stage?

Hey, I'm talking to you.

What the fuck, Cass?

Come on.

What?

- I'm just asking. - Well, you see what I'm doing.

No... but-give me a... give me a minute, okay?

It's my third time through the fucking alphabet down there.

I'm a delicate flower, sorry.

That's 20 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

Yeah, but do you really want 20 minutes of your life back?

Touch?.

I need your opinion.

If the question is, who do you have to blow

to get in the main room,

you're in the wrong fucking car.

I know, it's Goldie.

She keeps telling me I have to do more

"women appropriate" shit. What is that?

What, like jokes about Tupperware

and ring around the collar?

What did you think?

Goldie's just gonna build you a ramp to The Main Stage?

It's a meritocracy; it's not a fucking charity event.

Yeah, it's easy for you to say. You're a guy.

You can say whatever you want.

Goldie doesn't owe you shit, okay?

You're not in the main room because you're not ready, and

don't give me that whole "easy cause you're a guy" cop out.

You're slightly better than that.

Jesus Christ, you gave me a heart attack, Ralph.

What's up?

Get out of the car.

What?

A fucking bus.

They act like it's a goddamn freeway out there.

Sorry.

We should probably do something,

some kind of memorial.

I'm sorry.

I dropped two hits of blotter around three in the morning.

I'm still a little...

still just a tiny bit fucked up.

This is terrible, though.

Let's go on with our memorial arrangements for Clay, please.

It's noticeable, isn't it?

I'm picking up Clay's parents at the airport in a couple hours.

I can ask them if they're open

to having a ceremony or something.

Oh, fuck.

Jesus!

Wait out-fucking-side, will you, Ed?

I didn't know Clay was gonna die when I took the shit, obviously.

Come on. Come on.

Should be babysitting my nephews now.

- Come on. - We watch H. R. Pufnstuf

on Saturdays... you know what I'm talking about, Sully.

Yeah, man, acid and babysitting.

It's pretty self-explanatory.

Fuck yeah.

We can all, maybe say a few words, huh?

I'll call Jerry's.

Get us a platter.

Think I should try to book a church?

Fuck no. We're in one.

You know who swam in this pool?

Like, bacteria and shit?

One Mister Burl Ives.

So you still didn't answer my question, Carl.

What did Goldie say?

She said yes.

Well, good, shit, finally!

In the near future.

Oh.

Well, how fucking near?

Soon.

I don't know.

Another six months?

She says you're not ready.

Look, I've been doing open mic for over a fucking year now.

Okay, I want fucking Carson, Carl.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you and every other

pencil dick with five minutes.

Listen, it's a marathon, kid,

I keep telling you.

You keep telling me a lot of shit.

Okay, you're my manager. Fucking manage me.

And if you can't get me the big room,

at least get me a paid gig.

What pay? Goldie doesn't pay anybody.

It's a showcase.

What about that gig at the church?

Babysitting immigrant kids

is not a gig, Carl.

Okay, I need real money.

All right, I want to get my own pad,

a place where I can take girls

without you wandering through in your boxers,

eating baked beans out of a pan.

It'll come.

It will come.

In the meantime,

just keep entertaining the little beige tots

while you hone your craft at Goldie's

until it's time.

And... and when exactly is... is that?

Goldie will let you know,

in the same way she let Prinze

and Walker and Appuzzo know.

God willing,

some day this will all be ashes.

Their poor mothers.

You know they hate you, right?

Hey, uh, is there any chance of us passing by Grauman's?

Tourists?

Uh, comics. From Boston.

What?

Nothing.

Come on, let us in on the joke.

At the risk of blowing my dime tip,

I'll tell you.

Ever since Carson moved his outfit from New York to here,

every asshole who think he can tell a joke

has been circling Burbank like a fucking vulture.

Nice to meet you too.

- You asked. - I did.

All right, oh.

You religious, Adam?

No, I figured I'd find Jesus

after I'm pulled over by some white cops in Bel Air.

A conversion based on fear isn't a conversion.

It's insurance.

That's nice, Father.

If the Catholic Church starts making fortune cookies,

I think you the man.

So you talk to the powers that be

about my raise?

Sorry.

It pays what it pays.

Ah, are you sure there's nothing that I can do

to make 'em throw a little extra bread my way?

Carl's cool, but I'm starting to get desperate.

There are other ways of supplementing income.

Here at the church, I mean.

What's the figure?

Two hundred.

Dollars?

It pays a lot, Adam,

because it costs a lot.

Hello.

Uh...

Is, uh, Clay here?

Who are you?

We're, uh,

we're friends of his from Boston.

We, uh, he said we had a...

we got a place to crash if we came to town, so...

here we are.

Ta-da.

Hi, I'm, uh, Eddie.

Eddie Zeidel. Nice to meet you.

This is my friend, Ron Shack.

Hey. Very nice to meet you.

I'm sorry, Clay's dead.

Excuse me?

Um, last night there was an accident on Sunset.

Wait.

W...

He...

He was on Carson, I mean, we...

we talked.

Yeah, he got the fucking couch.

I'm sorry.

Wait... wait, hold on, hold on. Um...

Look, we just kind of

come a really long way.

Uh, so is... is this like a brush-off

or... or a joke or...

Yeah, fucking hilarious, isn't it?

I think it's best you boys made other arrangements.

Come on, Kay.

Of course Clay loved you.

It was two months.

Hardly a romance for the ages.

Who wouldn't be crazy about you?

You're pretty, you're kind,

and you never mess up my drink order.

- Vodka and tonic. - Yep.

Those acting classes are paying off.

Mm.

- What is that like? - Well...

it, uh, doesn't burn if that's what you're asking.

I'm serious.

It's like here.

Some nights you kill.

Some nights you bomb.

For some fucked-up reason you...

keep coming back.

We're gonna fuck, aren't we?

Are we?

Change of clothes. Half a pack of cigarettes.

A postcard.

What kind of god does something like that?

You work your ass off;

you kill on The Tonight Show;

you get the fucking couch;

that very night, you're hit by a bus?

You're buddy got hit crossing against a green.

That's not God, that's Darwin or Budweiser.

Well, you're a real cunt sometimes.

Hey, I find the word "sometimes" offensive.

Excuse me?

Who do we talk to about stage time?

Uh, amateur night's Tuesday night, guys.

Sign-up sheet's by the register.

No, no, no, no, no, uh...

We... we don't do open mic. We're pros.

Oh, wow! Oh, wow.

Oh, I got, uh, Richard Pryor's

going on Thursday night.

I can, uh, bump him if it means

that I can get some pros on stage.

Look, he didn't mean anything, okay?

We're working comics from Boston

and we came out to stay with a friend

and he was gonna set us up out here,

but unfortunately, he...

he died last night, so...

Clay.

Clay Appuzzo, yeah.

Anyway, we got nowhere to crash,

and we spent everything just to get out here.

So if you could help us out and give us some stage time?

What, are you guys like a Rowan and Martin?

No, separate acts.

Well,

amateur night's the best I can do for you guys.

Can't play the main room without Goldie's blessing

and even open mics are like a three-week wait.

Fuck, fucking suck a duck.

Fuck duck!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Fuck!

He retarded?

Listen, man, um,

if...

if there's anything you could do to help us out?

Well, if you guys need a place to stay

until you make it big,

I can set you up with something.

Hey, Dory, you think you could get that ketchup

that I asked for a long time ago, you know,

before your Social Security kicks in?

The nicest. The nicest.

"Fa Napoli."

Next time just mail it.

It's a postcard, not a telegram.

I think it's a suicide note from Clay.

How is this a suicide note?

It's part of a Goethe quote. "Fa Napoli."

"See Naples and die."

Clay used to say it all the time.

It meant once you see Naples,

there was nothing left to do but die

because nothing would ever compare to that moment.

It's a postcard, Cass.

That he left on the bedside table at the Sunset Tower Hotel.

Why was he even staying at a hotel

when he lives two blocks away?

I don't know.

Look, you want to play Mod Squad, fine,

but pull this shit with someone else.

Pull what shit?

The shit where you build a fucking shrine to a guy

who wiped his feet on your ass for two years.

I came here as a friend.

I understand.

Clay died. It's a fucking tragedy.

I get it.

It's this fond revisionist bullshit

that makes me want to puke.

It'd make Clay puke too. And you know what?

You just want to sit there and sweep all his dick-ish qualities

under the rug and... and magically turn the silent asshole

at the end of his name into a

"There'll never be another like him,"

then go for it, but you're gonna have to

rewrite history with some other shithead.

Go fuck yourself, Bill.

He dumped you, Cass.

I'm right here. I'm right fucking here!

He makes a good point.

That is fucking bullshit, Mitch.

Johnny liked your boy.

- Gave him the fucking couch. - Yeah.

Now this thing with the bus?

Drugs, possibly?

So rumors are the rule of the day now?

He went out to celebrate, got a little drunk,

fell in front of a bus.

It... Carson gave him the couch.

Who wouldn't tie one on?

People there say he saw the bus,

walked right out in front of it.

Police are still investigating.

Wha... so Johnny's fucking punishing me now?

It's the fucking sponsors.

If anyone's being punished, it's us.

Okay, look, Johnny feels bad.

But I just think we need to book some

more established comics for a little while,

see how it all shakes out.

"Established"?

What are you gonna dry-clean Red Skeleton,

send him out there? Good fucking luck!

How long we talking?

We're thinking four, five months.

Then I'll bring the kids right back in.

You want retreads? Be my guest.

Merv, Midnight Special,

they can have first shot at my kids.

I got agents and producers packing this place

every night, because if you're waiting

for them to act stable,

you got a long fuckin' wait.

I mean, they got mommy issues; they got daddy issues;

they're about as stable as a Middle East cease-fire.

That volatility, that pain,

that willingness to walk out in front of a bus

an hour after killing it on Johnny Carson...

- if that's what he did... - That's exactly what he...

Well, that's the price of fucking brilliance, isn't it?

That's what makes millions of your viewers

stay up till the ass crack of dawn,

waiting to see them.

These are tortured fucking souls, Mitch.

I j...

And here I thought we were talking about comics.

You want genius?

You come here.

You want Catskill

or some green kid shitting walnuts

on national television, zay gezunt.

Goldie, the kingmaker.

Damn straight.

And you know what they get from me,

these kids, they don't get anywhere else?

These babies, huh?

Oh...

I nurse these fuckin' kids.

They latch on and don't let go

till I tell them when.

So, when they go on your show,

they knock it out of the fucking park!

Huh?

It's called trust, Mitch.

They trust that when I know they're ready,

that's when they're ready.

And that's when I call you fuck-tards.

Okay, look, we both know those other shows

don't mean shit to these kids.

It's Johnny or nothing.

So why don't we just let the sponsors

have a little time to let their pants dry

and then I'll see what I can do.

Yeah, we can all hold hands

and buy the world a fucking Coke, too.

Not for nothing, nice tits.

Fuckin' took you long enough.

So...

What do you think of the place?

I think we're standing in the middle of a fucking closet.

I mean, you can't put a bed in here, much less two.

Yeah, but you can fit two sleeping bags right here,

plus you got access to a full kitchen, shower,

toilet, all semi-functional.

We'll take it.

Are you fuckin' serious?

We need a place to crash.

All right.

Need the rent up front. Sixty bucks cash.

I'm not gonna, uh, I'm not gonna...

What do you got? Just say it.

- I got... I got 11... 11 bucks. - Just say what you have.

Just give me the ten.

- You sure? - Yeah.

All right. Rules.

You live with three other people now, okay?

So you got to put your name on your food.

If you don't have your name on your food,

then it's up for grabs.

- Okay. - Labels.

Also, don't touch my snake, and don't think

you're doing me any favors by feeding him, okay?

Where... where's the snake? The snake's in here?

And listen, this is the closet to my room, out here, so

- if I'm in there with Maggie... - Who's Maggie?

She's my girl. By the way, hands off, okay?

If I'm out here with Maggie, screwing,

you gotta wait till we're done.

And what exactly does that cocktail of degradation

and self-loathing sound like when it's finished?

Sobbing? A single gunshot?

Probably just a groggy "where am I?"

after the ether wears off.

God, do you guys just

come up with this out of the thin air?

It's amazing.

Enjoy your closet.

- Oh. - Fuck me.

Is that a fucking cat box?

Yeah.

Well, uh...

guess I should just...

uh, all right.

Everybody stand back.

Okay, well, you gotta take that down.

I'm fuckin' serious.

Language, Adam, please.

"Language"? Really?

So anybody here from... from out of town?

Are you having a good time, ma'am?

Really? All right, tell your face.

I am Mexican. That's right.

I look like, uh, Tony Orlando

had a baby

with Tony Orlando.

What is it about Mexicans...

eh... I wish this didn't happen, but it's true.

Mexican, right,

is a dirty word still.

You say "Mexican" before anything, it sounds bad.

Like, for example, uh, I got some reefer.

Got some Mexican reefer.

No, thank you.

Took my kids to the circus,

the Mexican circus.

What the fuck was that about?

Took him to see a clown,

the Mexican clown.

Hey, kids, look, it's Puto the Clown.

I gotta take a piss.

Want me to make a balloon animal with my wiener?

Hey, hey.

I gotta talk to Goldie about Clay's memorial.

Look, I fucked up, okay?

I'm an antisocial asshole, a narcissistic douche bag.

Let me know when you get to an apology.

Hey.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Oh, hey, Clay's friend.

- Yeah, Eddie. - Cassie.

Look, I-I just... I wanted to apologize for earlier.

No, I'm sorry about that...

No, no-no-no-no, please, don't.

I mean, a couple of bums show up,

trying to crash on your boyfriend's couch...

No, he wasn't my boyfriend.

He was my boyfriend.

We were together for two years,

but it's been over for a while.

- And... - Oh.

I'm just trying to take care of his parents and get...

No, that sounds... that sounds really nice of you.

We found a place.

Oh, good.

Yeah, yeah. Arnie's.

Oh, that's not good.

It's great, actually, it's, uh,

it's a closet, is what it is.

It's got a wonderful view, though.

Looks on to some kind of performance space

where, uh, bums take craps in between parked cars.

Yeah.

I don't want to oversell it for you,

but what it lacks in dignity it makes up for

in horrifying spectacle.

Okay.

This guy's doing fucking dick jokes over here,

I'm trying, I'm trying my best.

Oh, thank you for making me laugh.

- All right. - I'll talk to you later.

- Yeah, I'll see you. - Okay, take care.

Hey, is Kay here?

Is Kay here? Kay, Kay the waitress.

- Clay's Kay? - How the fuck do I know?

She gave me crabs.

Aw, what'd you get her?

I'm fucking serious, man.

Just go get some Quell...

I slept with Betty last night.

It's nice knowing you.

Yeah, and she's already hormonal 'cause she's six-months pregnant

so great, she's gonna kill me now

because I fucking turned her panties into a fucking aquarium.

You shown it to anyone else?

Bill.

Anyone who cares? His parents?

No, but I'm going to.

They deserve the truth.

No one deserves the truth, sweetie.

It's not a reward.

You wouldn't want to know if it was your son?

My grandmother gave me this

on my 21st birthday.

Talk about your "to be's or not to be's."

Poor fucker.

Treblinka.

Eight months before she was liberated.

She said there was a Star of David

hung above the entrance to the gas chamber.

Written, in Hebrew, on a purple curtain

were the words, "This is the gateway to God.

Righteous men will pass through."

They even lined the gas chamber entrance with flowers.

The train ramp to Treblinka

was disguised to look like a regular railway station

with timetables, signs, even a clock

painted on the wall.

What does this have to do with Clay?

My grandmother knew the truth.

She knew where she was going.

And when she got there, where she was,

what that acrid smell in the air was.

But the truth wasn't gonna let her sleep at night.

It seldom does.

His parents should know.

Say you're right.

They're Catholic.

So you're pretty much damning their son to Hell.

You tell them the truth, and they will never have

another decent night's sleep again.

So what, so I...

so I just shouldn't say anything?

The flowers at Treblinka?

Bubbe said they were the most beautiful she'd ever seen.

Guy?

Guy.

I'm so itchy.

What is it?

I don't know. Is there something on me?

I'm so sorry.

For what?

My dead son's accident

or his giving his mother crabs?

Mister Appuzzo.

Clay left this at the hotel the night of his accident.

"Napoli." See Naples.

Why are you showing me this?

I think that Clay might have...

No.

It was an accident.

He was drinking. He had an accident.

You understand? He had an accident.

- No, Mister... - He was drinking and...

He left this at the hotel.

he fell in front of a bus

in this God forsaken hell hole.

Here, here.

Here's your memorial. Here's your ashes.

Scatter them all over this...

Gomorrah that killed him!

Good morning, roomie.

Morning.

Do you like bacon?

Or are you the other kind of Jew?

Uh...

Morning, buddy.

Hey, Mags, any more bacon?

Yeah, there's one here.

Thank you.

It's a memorial service.

Nobody's gonna say boo.

Man, Arnie's not even gonna

let me in the building without you.

That guy's got his head so far up Goldie's ass

he can taste her last meal.

Look, I'm being serious, Carl.

My hands are tied. Charlie's got the brunch.

Lookit, if you say the words

"Charlie" or "Callas" one more time,

I swear to Christ that I'm going to take this five-dollar tie

that you so generously let me borrow

and I'ma hang your ass with it.

Oh, you want Carson? Go get Carson.

You got to get in there with the big boys.

Let 'em see you.

This business is all about relationships.

You got... you gotta mingle for Chrissake.

Mingle at a memorial service?

Hey, I got my first break on The Colgate Comedy Hour

by chatting up Eddie Cantor at a urinal.

You do what you gotta do.

Wow, you are, like,

the worst fucking manager ever, you know that, right?

Maybe. But I believe in you.

And you know that.

We got pork chops tonight.

If you're late and they're dry, don't blame me.

Guy, please?

Uh, 'scuse me, brother.

Think The Jackson 5's at The Rainbow.

Hey, Arnie, I'm just here to pay my respects.

Oh, yeah? Really?

You were friends with Clay?

Yeah, he... he, uh,

bought me a slice of pizza after one of my sets.

Oh, so you got the pizza connection?

Wow, congrats. That's really cool.

Screw, kid.

Oh, my God! There you are.

- You look fabulous. - How do I look?

This kid doesn't know Clay. He's just here hustling.

Neither do you if you think Clay would give a shit.

He's my guest. Come on.

You look like Flip Wilson went to Sears.

- Hey, thanks, man. - Man, forget it.

There's only one rule in this business, and so far

nobody's figured out what it is yet.

Welcome to the wild, wild west.

Hey, enjoy the egg salad.

- Hey, hey. - Smart, college educated.

- Hey. - Hi.

Uh, where's Betty? I heard she's bringing seafood.

Shut the fuck up.

She's meeting her mother to pick out a new crib.

She's gonna come by a little later, thank you.

What about all the little piranhas in her panties?

I, uh, told her I got them at the Y.

Mm.

Well, I mean, technically, you did.

Man, you should have heard me.

I'm blasting them on the phone this morning.

I'm like, "You guys, my wife is pregnant;

and she probably has them; and I'm gonna take

the Young Man's Christian Association to court!"

I used the full name to intimidate them.

It really worked well.

And she bought all that?

Yeah. Hook, line, and sinker.

- Ugh. - I even canceled my membership,

which sucks, 'cause I loved working out there.

It's inexpensive and, truth be told,

it's very, very clean.

I mean, these girls were bad, you know, so...

But Clay, he introduces us.

And the... and the girls ask how we know each other.

Clay looks at them with a straight face and says,

"We're cousins through rape."

And then... and then,

and then he goes on to tell a story,

a history lesson about how the Moors were black

and they invaded, raped, and pillaged Sicily.

But we are all one, big happy family now,

it's all in the past.

Man, neither one of us got laid that night.

Clay was my man, I tell you that.

He was my man.

Thank you.

Hello, um,

I know, uh, none of you know us,

me and my friend Ron. Um.

But, uh, I knew Clay from

back in Boston when his first name was still Calogero.

We were kids making pizzas at Romero's,

which was an authentic Italian restaurant

that was owned by my Jewish uncle.

Later, Clay got a job at, uh, Combat Zone,

doing comedy at a strip club.

And I'd drive into Boston and watch, and, uh...

I mean, I was probably the one guy there

not to watch the strippers but to watch Clay perform.

And he'd be up there telling these jokes about,

about his family and growing up in a small town,

but, you know, they... they weren't...

they weren't jokes, they were these...

I don't know, these secrets about himself.

And, uh, one night after closing,

we, uh, went to the bar for a beer.

And, uh, I asked him how does he

get up in front of all these drunks

and, uh, make them laugh

at the most

embarrassing, shameful,

painful moments of his life.

And, uh...

he said it was easier for him

to confess the truth about himself

to a room full of drunken strangers

than it was to the people he really loved.

He was beautiful.

Angelina.

- Oh, Guy. - We're leaving.

You have to stay in here. The stories about Calogero...

We're leaving.

Mr. Appuzzo, please,

won't you join us, just a little while?

Have... have a seat, please.

The...

My son is dead.

He was a child.

He was always a child.

You are children.

You think you can joke your way out of everything,

pain, heartache,

life!

Go ahead. Then what?

It's all still there waiting for you,

waiting to be dealt with.

You're children with your eyes closed,

thinking nobody can see you.

I see you.

I see right through all of you.

Oh, shit!

Honey, what are you doing? The doctor said

no destruction of property until after the baby!

It's the receipt from your crab lotion.

If you found out about it this morning, then

why is the receipt from two days ago, you son of a bitch?

No, not on my car!

Bess, come here, give me that...

Can we... no-no-no-no, please, come here, come-here,

come here, stop, come on!

Thought I got rid of those.

Told you to keep your dick in your skirt, didn't I?

Mind if I grab a beer?

I'll join you.

Hey, hey, Goldie. How you doing?

I'm, uh, I'm Adam. Adam Proteau.

Yeah, I know who you are.

Um, yeah, I know now is a bad time, but I was...

I said I know who you are.

Why don't you quit while you're ahead, huh?

Come in.

Oh, sweetie. Hey, you look tired.

You need a bump?

I want to go up tonight.

The Cellar's yours. Name the time.

Not The Cellar.

The main room.

What are you?

Excuse me?

I have no idea what the fuck you are.

I'm a comedian.

What are you?

You're funny, I give you that.

Phyllis Diller, I know what she is.

Joan Rivers, I get, but you?

No clue.

You're all over the map.

No point of view.

You're sexy, which is not a plus.

They don't hear half your jokes 'cause

they're so busy staring at your tits.

So you go a little blue.

And when you don't, you're all

"aw, shucks and cow shit."

I have no idea what your female perspective is.

There is no one female perspective,

just like there is no one guy perspective.

We're not them, honey.

You wanna go on The Tonight Show?

Yes.

Let me help you, hmm?

Find a voice that women can relate to.

I have a voice women... that women relate to...

That sheds light on our mutual experiences, huh?

Then I'll put you on The Main Stage,

front and center,

my right hand to Carson.

- Is Kaufman like Carlin? - Ugh.

Is Klein like Pryor?

You're missing my point.

Yet they're all up there on your stage.

Why is it any different for women?

There is room for me too, I just need your stage to prove it.

When you're ready.

Word has is The Tonight Show's gonna be

laying off young comics for a while.

That the...

rumors surrounding Clay's death

has them rethinking things.

Your point?

The LA Times is doing an interview

with me tomorrow.

They want me to set the record straight

about Clay, about his death...

The truth.

And what is the truth?

You tell me.

At least now I know what you are.

Guys, Vietnam's coming to an end.

That means what?

Yes, the draft is coming to an end.

It's so nice. Comedians are coming home

from Canada, 'cause they're pussies, right?

Ugh, they are not known for their bravery, man.

They're known for what? Say it with me.

Big penises. Nobody said it, that's weird.

That's a "no" in the back? Is that... yeah, that's my wife.

How are you... oh, wait, that's not her.

I'm just kidding. She didn't make it

through surgery, she's dead. How are you?

Ugh, I just... gonna... I'ma need you to hold this.

Just put it between your breasts, that's fine, um.

I'll come get it later. Great, so...

Man, we hate to fight.

We'll make a white flag out of anything, right?

We'll make a white flag out of a fuckin' black flag.

Where are you in all this, Cass?

All those jokes about being a single gal from Wink, Texas.

Fuck, the bartender can tell jokes.

Real laughter...

It's cathartic.

It's the current that moves through an audience

when some truth about who you are,

about who they are, is revealed.

Come on, Cass, you gotta go out there and put those arms

around that messy part of yourself and just...

Get your ass on that stage.

Figure out what it is that you have to say,

open a vein, and...

fuckin' say it.

That's it, I'm Sully Patterson, thank you guys!

Yeah, give it up for Sully Paterson, a...

genuine war hero right there, man.

Coming to the stage next right now is a real treat.

It's her first time on the main room stage,

and quite frankly it's about motherfucking time.

Easy on the eyes, and funny as hell,

give it up for Cassie Feder!

Hey, y'all.

Yes, I am from Texas.

We do say "y'all."

Y'all's actually Texas shorthand for

"We will shoot you, all of you."

You know what's great about being a single gal

in Texas?

Is making out in pickup trucks.

Girls, you have not lived until you find yourself

in a lip lock with a farm boy

who spent his afternoon

watching his daddy's cows hump.

You ever have life pull a trick on you

that you just did not see coming?

You're just walking along,

all happy and stupid, and wham.

Without you even realizing it, life just

bends you over and tucks it straight up your ass?

I lost a friend recently.

An ex-boyfriend, actually.

Man...

Did I ever love him.

He was Italian and swarthy.

And he had these, um,

these big blue eyes.

And not that he couldn't be a dick too, 'cause he could.

Get her the fuck off the stag...

What? For what?

Here I was,

this Jew from Wink, Texas.

Let me just put that in perspective for you.

There's more Jews at a Walt Disney dinner party

than there are in all of Wink.

And I met my ex, and, man,

I was just overmatched right from the start.

You know you are overmatched when you end up

blowing a guy on the first date.

That's it. The end.

You know what I'm talking about.

I can see you've done that a few times,

haven't you, young lady?

I mean, I don't even know what happened, really.

I was at dinner. I was smiling.

I was nodding.

I was so interested in everything he was saying.

One second, "Oh, my gosh, lasagna Thanksgiving

instead of turkey? No."

And then the next second, I'm in the front seat of his Valiant

blowing him, wondering what our kids are gonna look like.

If it's a boy,

let's name 'em 'Arry a...

And if it's a girl,

I'll name her Candace.

I was so happy to be there

that I said thank you to him afterwards.

I don't know what happened.

I didn't blow guys in Wink.

And then I'm in L. A. for one month,

and I'm really thinking

about getting my tonsils taken out

for performance purposes.

If my uncle knew what was going on,

I could just see him.

I can't believe you're sucking Italian dick.

That's disgusting.

You got perfectly good cousin dick

right ch'ere in Wink!

Oh, great.

I gotta take a piss.

When's this prick gonna shoot his wad?

Ooh, yeah. Oh, my God, yeah, oh!

You know Lenny Bruce's first paying gig

was for 12 dollars and a free plate of spaghetti?

I would kill for some spaghetti right now.

Fucking starving.

Z?

Yeah?

Where the fuck are we?

Hollywood, brotha.

Thank you.

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