All language subtitles for Im Dying Up Here s01e03 Free Buffet.eng

Previously on
I'm Dying Up Here...

Someone was there
from Midnight Special.

They cancelled.

It's not your fault.

God's got it out for the Hobbs,
that's all I know.

Who do we talk to
about stage time?

Richard Pryor's
going on Thursday night.

I can, uh, bump him
if it means that

I can get some pros on stage.

I was on that list every week,
and now look at me.

I got the main room
whenever I want it,

as long as it's
ten minutes before closing.

Let me help you, hmm?

Find a voice
that women can relate to.

There is room for me too,

I just need your stage
to prove it.

When you're ready.

You killed it
at The Store last night.

You know, I-I wanted to be here.

But it's just one
fucking night, right?

Caught my ex getting
a blow job in our office.

That was one fucking night too.

Shouldn't there be
some sort of pecking order

based off time put in
at the club?

Oh, there's a pecking order.

Me, you.

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Are you having
a good time, ma'am?

Really?
All right.

Tell your face.

Guys, Vietnam's
coming to an end.

That means what?

Comedians are coming home...
from Canada.

I used to do a lot of
handyman work, growing up.

Mostly because my dad
was in the business...

of breaking shit.

Well, what are you
doing in here?

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

All right, thank you, folks.

You've been a... slightly
above average crowd.

Excuse me.

I'm looking for Teddy.

The owner does time?

He does when there are
holes in the lineup.

Well, why's he singing?

He ran out of jokes.

Hey, do you folks
like impressions?

Yeah.

Well, you're gonna be impressed
by this next guy.

Please welcome to the
stage Billy Quandt!

You know what you guys are?

You're alchemists.

You create pleasure from pain.

And that is a virtuous gift,
my friend.

So why the free grub?

Because at King Theodore's,
the comic is king.

All right, don't let
this crown fool you.

I just work here.

And sure, yeah-yeah,
I can carry a tune, but...

you're the rock stars,
all right?

You keep the doors open.
I just hold the key.

Uh, what-what's, uh,
what's the buffet like

over at Goldie's?

You know, cocktail onions,
lemon twists, ice cubes.

Usual stuff.

That-that's a shame.

Please, help yourself.

Oh, try the-try the shrimp.

They're feathered in coconut.

Do you ever notice
how the American dream

is to have your house
filled with Mexicans?

Think about it.

Your big house, your big car,

your big pool isn't complete

unless you have Mexicans
running around,

scrubbing that shit nonstop.

Saying, "You like this, meester?
It's good, meester?"

Though think about this, also.

We clean the inside
of the house.

We clean the outside
of the house.

We build the fucking house.

We're the wet-backbone
of this country.

That's why we're always saying
"Mi casa es su casa."

We're being ironic.

Now, think about it,
the ultimate thing

is you want a Mexican
to take care of your kids.

That's the best.

You want a Mexican nanny?

You got a Mexican nanny?

You have one already?

Good one, old?

That's the best kind.

You want an old nanny, right?

They're not going anywhere.
They're not dating.

Right?

All they're doing is
concentrating on your child.

Right now, there's an
eight-year-old boy in Tijuana.

Grandmother's
reading him a book.

Mom is making him a quesadilla.

His father is
trimming hedges outside.

He's living the American dream

and he doesn't even know it.

The pool at the Pines
was shaped like a crescent.

I would bet my left ear on that.

The pool at the Pines
was a fucking oval.

I spent eight summers there.

Ugh, you're betting your ear
'cause you don't need it

because you don't listen.

All right, Judy, I'm listening.

Paint me a picture.

Lights up.
Catskills, 1956.

- Aye?
- Okay. All right.

Uh, I'm seeing you and you...

you're sitting on Sid's lap,

eight months pregnant
with Mandy,

dressed as
an apricot hamantaschen

because it was one
of those fucking nights,

you know, with the costumes

and-and the-and the singing

and we were all
dressed as foods.

I'm knocked up with Jake
but don't know it.

Yeah.

And the fucking pool was oval.

You slept today?

Mmm.

I'm fine.

I like to, uh, spread
my eight hours beauty sleep

over at least a week.

I did a 3 a.m.
at the Flamingo.

And, you know, got in the car,
drove four hours here.

Whatever.

That's my thing now.

I'm on Vegas Standard Time.

My sun rises at 1 a.m.

Wake up, I go to work at three,

do 45 minutes, walk up the Strip

to Sammy's club,
I do another set.

Then it's breakfast
with the working girls.

I tell them how I killed.

They tell me how
they almost got killed.

Showbiz.

Nothing like LA though, huh?

Laughs only matter on the coast.

Plus... I miss seeing you.

How is Jakey?

You know, driven.

Got a head of lettuce.

Oh.

- How's Mandy?
- Ugh. Oy.

She'll turn the corner.

- Nah.
- They all do.

Nah.

Come in.

Hey.
Real quick?

Um, I was looking over
tonight's lineup.

And I know-I know
I was on there yesterday,

but for some reason
I'm not-not on there now.

Oh, Edgar, I...

You know what?
I'm gonna go grab my seat.

I'll be out in a minute.

Cheers.

I'm really sorry your name
fell off the list, Edgar.

That happens sometimes.

But now maybe you can
get some more time

at the fucking cafeteria

Teddy sells as a comedy club.

That's what this is about?

No, actually,
I was thinking about

knitting you a sweater,

but I wanted to
discuss it with you

before committing to the color.

What the fuck
do you think it's about?

Have I ever
been unclear about this?

It was fifteen minutes
and appetizers.

Don't act surprised
or-or stupid.

I-I can't really tell
which one you're going for.

You want to go to Teddy's?
Go.

I am not stopping you.

Goldie, come on,
the guy had fucking shrimp.

Eh, I understand.

Shrimp is very tasty.

You wouldn't be pulling
this shit if it was Carlin.

Carlin didn't flop in my office

while his teeth
came in for a month.

Carlin didn't shower
in my fucking sink.

Well, Carlin didn't paint
your fucking comedy club

for free either.

And that's why you'll
never see my name in the Bible.

Not even in the sexy parts.

My parents died
in a car crash when I was ten.

Christ, with this shit again?

- Shh.
- They hit a tree.

What?

I think that segue hit a tree.

Their obit read
that their car was

wrapped around a tree,
which I liked

'cause I thought
it gave their death

a kind of Christmas-y feeling.

The funny thing about death

is it's the one thing
we all have in common

and no one knows
how to talk about it.

Especially to kids.

People would say to me,
"They're not gone.

They'll always be with you."

Well, that's nice, except
no one ever thinks about

the fact that one day I'm gonna
grow up and want to get laid.

And it was worse for me because
I had a very critical mom.

The first time I had sex,
all I could hear

was my dead mom's voice.

"Really, Cassie?

Is that how you're
gonna fuck this guy?"

"Because...

if you're just gonna
lay there like that,

he's gonna think
he's screwing me

right after the accident."

I'm so sorry for your loss.

Her mother passed in November.
Stage two lymphoma.

It gets easier.

Thank you for your...
sympathy.

Hey, Cass, I love what
you did up there.

- Edgy shit.
- Thanks.

What are you, deaf now?

Did you not just see
that, Steve?

She sucked.

Wish I had my derringer.

I'd reunite her with
her mom and dad right now.

Hey, Sam, be nice.

He doesn't mean that.
He doesn't even have a gun.

Fuck off, Steve.

You get The Main Stage

and that's what you do with it?

Fuck the next three comics
going up after you?

It's a mic, not a shovel.

Look at this crowd.
They're just like your parents.

No pulse.

Dead loved ones.

Not the evergreen
you thought it was.

It's a work in progress.

You know, I usually
forget you're Jewish.

And then you make me laugh.

What, you want me to be

more like
Judy Catskills over there?

Borscht bleeding out of my ears?

Shaking my tits for shekels?
No thank you.

Unlike you, when she drives away
after performing, she's not

followed by a procession of cars
with their headlights on.

Plant that seed
between your ears.

I'm sorry to interrupt,
but I saw what you did

and you were so brave
and honest up there.

Thank you.

Too bad she couldn't have wedged
"funny" in there somewhere.

Right.

Man, what did she
expect me to do?

Goldie's has more comedians
than she has spots.

Half the time you call in,
you can't even

get up until after 1 a.m.

Look, it's not not unfair.

That's the eleventh commandment:

you don't perform
in other comedy clubs inside LA.

I'd like to help you,
but, hey, rules are rules.

Yeah, you made your bed.

Teddy's, he's got spots
all over the place.

You-you could call in
right now

and get up tomorrow night
9 p.m. on the dot.

Plus the buffet, fuck.

What does that mean?
"Buffet"?

If-if you're a comedian,
there's a free buffet.

Wait, like you can just eat?

Yeah.

It's delicious.

If we could do a spot at
Teddy's, say, twice a week...

Tops.

That would give us
a safe place to hone our stuff

so when we come here, we're
more polished, more rehearsed.

And you would
always get first dibs.

Always. Obviously.

'Cause why would we be punished
for wanting to eat, you know?

Uh, I'm not directing
that at you,

I just, uh, I'm-I'm just
asking to ask.

Punish you?

Is that what's going on here?
You're being punished?

Did I say "punished"?

No one feels punished.

I-I feel-I feel punished.

All right.

Let's review
the food pyramid, huh?

Up top, you got
your Pryors, your Prinzes,

and they can go
wherever they want.

They've earned it.

Open mic-ers I could give
two slim shits about.

It's comics like you,
you, you...

To a lesser degree, you...

The raw talent I give my
time to, who I nurture,

whose shadows I've sewn
to their bodies?

Those are
the ungrateful bastards

I might take issue with
if they're putting in time

with my "competition."

This club is the only runway
to Carson.

His guys come here, not Teddy's.

Mitch comes here.

You think I comp
his drinks and his food

and his fucking bullshit

so he can watch you
"being punished"

in front of a packed house?

Goldie, we're very grateful
Very, very grateful.

But more clubs
equals more exposure

and the better our names look
on your marquee.

And that gets us closer
to some actual pay.

'Cause at some point, somewhere,

we need to get paid.

Don't think about money.

- Money, schmoney.
- I-I don't.

I just have a six-week-old
that's a greedy motherfucker.

Ah, that's why God
invented the day job.

Even made his own son
build coffee tables

before handing over the reins.

Every college student
across the USA

work their asses off
until he graduates.

It's understood.

This is a school.

What school pays its students?

I feel like if
you wanted the answer,

you wouldn't have
opened the door.

This is a school, Bill.

It's not like we here
on the GI Bill.

How's that job
with Sonny and Cher

working out for you, Ralph,
the one I set up?

So... me and you,
we're-we're good

now that we-we talked?

What do you think?

Why do you have to make
everything so fucking personal?

- Personal?
- It's business, Goldie.

That's all.
It's just fucking business.

Where are you headed?

Where are you headed?

Cassie's table
to sit with Cassie.

Yeah, great, me too,
'cause we're peers,

we're professional peers and
she expects us to sit with her.

It would be rude
not to sit with her.

I mean, her peripheral vision's
like a tractor beam.

- I agree. Apr?s vous.
- Apr?s vous.

Yo.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Good to see you.

Ah.

We're the fucking
kids' table, aren't we?

Yep.

Hey, uh, before I forget,
I just wanted to...

Ah, surprised it took that long.

Ooh, that was
the Hiroshima of bombing.

I mean, there's gonna be
audience members

three generations from now that
still won't be able to laugh.

The only difference between
your set and Pearl Harbor

is that it wasn't
a Sunday morning.

Nice to know y'all
had a productive ride over.

Cassie, you don't do sad shit
at a comedy club.

It's the same reason
they don't do

Razor Blade Night
at a Cubs game.

Yeah, people
come to Goldie's to laugh,

not to drop a rock into
the dark well of their soul

- then dissect the ripples.
- Oh, thank you, Sylvia Plath.

Well, somebody called me brave,
someone gave me a hug,

and somebody else had lymphoma.

Well, if laughing behind
your back counts,

you were a hit.

Well, the highlight of the night

was when Goldie
pointed to Judy Elder

as the high-water mark
for female funny.

- Mm!
- Thank you.

If you're laughing
at Judy Elder,

you're either 72 years old

or watching her
climb a flight of stairs.

Hello, I'm Judy Elder.

Would you like to hear
my five best jokes

that are somewhere in
the general vicinity of sex?

- No.
- Or how about 17 Jewish words

that sound vaguely obscene

if you lean into them
with all your weight?

Seriously, though,

I would like to be under
those dairy giants

while she removes her bra
and then I just die

in the impending avalanche.

Well, then I could
write a joke about your death,

put it in my act,
and get standing condolences

from the crowd.

Hey, I-I thought what you did
took a lot of balls.

And you're definitely
on to something, so keep it up.

Yeah, that was some...
pretty cool stuff.

Thank you, guys.

Hey, here's a thought.

Why don't you save your two
cents for your waitress' tip?

Oh, come on, Bill.

Tom Thumb and his gay aunt
have the floor.

Let 'em talk.

I'm sorry, who were you
in Grapes of Wrath again?

No, Grapes of Wrath was
the one about white people.

I think he was the one
boycotting the grapes.

Right, right.

I just knew grapes
was in there somewhere.

What's so funny, stable boy?

Pardon?

Aren't you Goldie's
new stable boy?

I have so many
questions for you.

Uh, most of them
laced with sexual innuendo.

All right, Edgar,
don't be a dick.

I'm not being a dick.

I just want to know
what's so fucking funny.

Well, um, Edgar, if you

really want to know,
I was just thinking about

the time that I fucked your mom.

Wait, did I ever tell you about

the time that I fucked your mom?

Oh, I fucked your mom so hard
your grandmama came.

There I was, balls deep
in your mother's coffee stain,

and 4,000 miles away
in Guadalajara, your grandmother

just collapses
in this bean field,

screaming my name
and coming so hard that

moths fly out of
that shriveled up, grey taco.

Now, I don't know this for sure,
'cause I'm still

back at your mom's,
fucking her from behind,

like the donkey she used to fuck

while tourists threw
Chiclets at her.

Right now, I'm distracted
by her endless screams

of how she wants it in the ass,

even though she knew we ran out
of lube like six hours ago.

But I'm a problem solver.

So I just start to

milk those
endlessly lactating tits

all over my ski pole,

thus providing
the necessary lubricant

that she desires.

And I just drill your mom
so hard in the ass that

I knock out the one remaining
tooth left in her head,

making her come so hard
that a shitload

of inedible hard candies
just shoot out

of that pi?ata she calls
a pussy,

all over the dirt floor
of her master bedroom.

And that, Edgar,
is what I found to be funny.

What?

Trying to decide
whether or not I should

fuck him up or buy a
milkshake with two straws.

'Cause he fucked the shit
out of your mama.

You guys ready to order?

You know what?
You know what?

Order of fries for
these motherfuckers right here.

French fries all around.

Hey.

Think, I, uh,
left my wallet in the kitchen.

Daddy's home.

Shh.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Hi.
-
I been in the right vein

Shh-shh-shh-shh.

Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh.

Why does the baby get burped
by candlelight and not me?

The electricity's been shut off.

- Seriously?
- Mm-hmm.

After only two

- threatening letters?
- Maybe the third's

in that pile over there.

- Shh-shh-shh-shh.
- I've been meaning

to take a look at that.

I just want to poke it

with a stick a few more times.

I'm sorry, Betz.
I'll figure something out.

I think I can get
my secretary job back.

He can sleep right by the desk.

You want to come to work with Mommy?
Not really?

No, what, are we
in a Charles Dickens novel?

Shh, shh.

How much do you think we need?

Shh, shh.
Another $40 a week.

Fifty if you want meat.

Okay.

Think I can talk to Roger

and grab a few more hours
at the warehouse.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Hi.

You have the patience
of a saint, you know that?

- Sully.
- Yeah?

Take care of us, okay?

If you got a hankering
to take care of that...

Why are shrimp
so fucking delicious?

They-they are.
End of story.

What was I thinking?

And...
that's it.

Fucking blackballed
for eating shrimp.

I am done.

Shrimp?

You're doing great, okay?

Just go back down.

But weren't you the one
that told me

you're on the way
to the straight and narrow?

You're a real piece of work.
Do you know that?

All I've ever wanted
was for you to know...

Hey, Maggie?

You're Mexican, right?

My mom's Asian.

But you're part cleaning lady
on your dad's side, right?

He's Filipino.

Filipino?

What the hell am I
supposed to do with that?

Thank God you're half-chink

or we'd have nothing
to talk about.

Your act makes me uncomfortable.

He said it, not me.

That's why it's smart.

It's the puppet who's racist.

So a Jew and a hick
walk into a convenience store...

You steal all that?

Man does not live
on Rice-A-Roni alone.

It's 90 degrees out.

Oh, we know.

I think the sausages
are ready to be served.

Sorry to interrupt
your act, Steve.

Please don't start over.

Oh, it's okay, you can
always stop by later tonight,

catch it in The Cellar.

No.
He serious?

Come on, Arnie,
this asshole gets The Cellar?

We've been here six weeks.
We've been up fucking twice!

He gets The Cellar.
You won't even guarantee us

open mic spots?
I mean, look,

no offense to Steve
and his regressive sock puppet,

but they fucking suck,
they really fucking suck.

Ron's right, man.
He fucking blows.

I mean, Hitler puppeting
an actual rabbi's corpse

would be more funny
and less offensive.

Sorry, man, no disrespect.

Guys, it's not
up to me who goes up.

Yes, it is, you control
the fucking set lists!

Fine!
I think Steve's comedy

holds a mirror
to our modern world.

- Pardon me, but I'm invested.
- Hmm.

Thank you, Arnold.

And unlike you shits,

I am two up-and-coming
comic voices.

Hey, toots,
you ever date a guy that's

100% wood, 100% al... Oh.

Fucking pulp.

Stop it.

You're gonna break it.

Well,
I can't see the weather girl.

Sparky, that was me, silly goat.

Maybe you should
go for a drive, Dad.

You know,
Detroit built this city?

It's all about the car here.

Gas is too expensive.

There's-there's no one
at the door, Sparky.

There's no one at the door.

Ooh, I see legs.
I see legs!

Dad, look out the window,
it's 72 and smoggy.

Relax already.

Hey, Bill, Bill,
would you help him?

Can't believe she gave my time
to Fat fucking Tubs.

Fucking ridiculous.

It looked like-
looked like a little helmet.

- It's on safari.
- A little turtle.

You recognize these?

You should.

They're your leftovers
from last night.

Such a waste.

Every one of these,
a hole drilled in my pocket.

Abandoning a baby
I can understand,

but this, what you got here,

this-this is a fucking sin.

I'm done with the open bar.

You pay for what you
drink or half drink.

First two drinks,
half price... comic prices...

After that, you're on your own.

Any complaints?
You know where to send them.

This some sort of punishment
for last night?

Course not, Billy.

Just the price
of doing business.

There you go.
There you go!

Hey, Rem,
what do you think's harder?

Lifting that pallet
of carburetors

or Lyle's rod while he watches?

Jerk-off.

Mr. Spugozi.

Sullivan.
Come in.

What are you reading there?

New York Times.
What's it look like?

All the news
that's tits to print.

Uh, speaking of non-sequiturs,

um, any chance you could
squeeze me in

a couple more hours a week?

I, uh, I could come in early.

You know, I believe you may be

the first employee
to walk through that door

asking for more work
and not just

more money for the same work.

Hey, I'm overpaid as it is.

What do I do all day
except drink your coffee

and come up with new ways to
call Remi and Lyle homosexuals,

which for some reason
makes them laugh?

You ever give sales
a consideration?

Sales?
I-I'm not sure why I would.

Sense of humor can be
an important tool in sales.

David O'Brien quit
so there's an opening.

That interest you?

Uhh, could I still
choose my hours?

Not hourly.
Salaried.

You'd be a full-timer.

Be another 60 bucks a week,
plus commission.

Course there's
some travel involved.

You'd have to cut your locks
and wear a tie.

Oh, I don't know.
I don't know.

I got this whole hand-to-mouth,

starving-artist thing
going on.

Well, you'll think about it.

Got it.
Yes. Okay.

Uh, thank you.

Thank you.

How's the new baby?

Uh, good.

When he's not crying,
he's sleeping and shitting, so.

Kids.

They're a real game changer.

That's some bullshit.

What?

Somebody crossed my name off
of open mic.

Yeah, I did.

You're going up
at The Cellar tonight.

Ho-holy shit.
Wait, tonight?

What, Goldie didn't tell you?

I figured she'd, uh,
whisper it in your ear

while you're up at her place,
dancing cheek to cheek.

Holy shit.

So what happened
up at her house between you two?

I helped her with some handiwork
and we ate lunch.

I bet you helped her
with some handiwork

and then ate some lunch.

Wow.

Wow, that-that's the joke
that you choose?

Out of all the other jokes,
you chose that one and thought,

"This will show him."

Yeah.

"This'll do it."

What time is my set?

Eight thirty, right after
Steve the ventriloquist.

Who's that?

Relax.
You'll like him.

Jeez, Sull,
you're already in the hole

to me for 200.

Trust me,
I'd fucking give anything

if it were the other way around.

Mary wants Donnie
to go to private school.

Third grade, she's already
talking about colleges.

Well, we slept with the baby
in the car last night

'cause it was cooler
than this fat lady's

ass crack of an apartment.

It's always
a dick-measuring contest.

Look, my birthday is next month.

You could think of it
as an early present.

Mary already bought you
personalized stationery

and a fountain pen.

Are you serious?

Yeah.
Oh, and sealing wax.

So we can write to each other.

What?
Who the fuck are we,

Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald?

- I know.
- Oh, man.

You tell her
I'm looking forward to

that powdered wig at Christmas.

How much you need?

Eighty?

How much you really need?

Sixty.

All right,
I'll send it tomorrow.

But that's all I got.

I love you like a brother,

but the wife loves you
like a brother-in-law.

Well, hey, you can expect
a very fancy,

personalized thank-you letter
in about a month and a half.

You ever call
that contact I gave you?

I can't keep doing this.

Yeah, he-he built sets
for My Three Sons.

Not quite the world beater
you think he is.

So no prospects at all?

No. Nothing.

Does Sparky seem
a little off to you?

He seems like
a 15-year-old dog, Dad.

Let's say we go to
Mann's Chinese later, huh?

You can compare your hands
with Douglas Fairbanks Jr.'s.

No.
It's morbid.

That whole sidewalk's like

a mass grave to the stars.

When are you guys
headed back to Michigan?

Not until Dad
is more tan than his T-shirts.

Are you thick, Susan?

That's his way of saying
he wants us to leave.

This isn't exactly
a large apartment.

It's been two weeks.

Doesn't your husband
miss his wife?

Don't you employees miss
your warm, cuddly demeanor?

You're a worse harp than
your mother, you know that?

Quit asking me about work!

Just stop.

That's the first time
I've asked you anything.

Jesus!

Hey, uh, Dad, maybe now's
the time to tell Bill

about your exciting
new opportunity.

He's going into business
with Cousin Jack.

He's, uh, starting
a textile company.

- Mainly shower curtains.
- You're leaving GM?

I'm not selling
goddamn shower curtains.

What happened?
Did he lose his job?

From what I heard,
it all sounded very mutual.

You were there for 30 years.

Thirty-one.

What?

I don't control OPEC.

I don't set the rates.

They are fixing oil prices!

- Who-who's...
- What do you mean, "Who?"

The A-rabs and the Japs,
that's who.

The Japs want high fuel prices

so they can murder Detroit
with their gas-sipping Hondas

and their tin can Corollas.

Jesus, crack open a friggin'
paper once in a while.

It's a conspiracy.

I'm sorry, Dad.
I didn't know.

Yeah, well, Detroit'll
bounce back.

They can't kill
our quality and innovation.

Fucking samurais.

It's easy to be sad in Michigan.

It's so grey there.

You inviting us out
was a godsend.

I just thought if Dad could

spend some time with
the sunshine and palm trees...

Can we please stop talking
about me now?

Judy Elder's headlining tonight.

I can get us passes.

Oh, Dad, you like Judy Elder.

- You think she's funny.
- I do?

Yeah, you and Mom have one
of her, uh, party albums.

Right.
Of course.

But she's no Dionne Warwick.

Hey, you, uh,
Steve the ventriloquist?

What gave it away?

Ha, yeah, yeah.

What's up?
I-I-I'm Adam Proteau.

I'm following you
in The Cellar tonight.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

Oh, it's nice to meet you, Adam.

Uh, and this is Sam.
Uh, say hi, Sam.

Hello, Mr. Proteau.

Pleasure to make
your acquaintance.

So where'd you two guys meet?

Pittsburgh, yeah.

Got him for my, uh,
my 12th birthday.

Been together since.

- No shit?
- Yeah.

I got a cousin in Pittsburgh.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah, yeah.

So what's your, um,
what's your gist?

You mean, what's my jive?

No, like,
what-what's your act about?

Oh, yeah, it's, uh,
mainly observational humor

about, uh, cultural differences,
like, uh...

Did you see Planet of the Apes?

Well, yeah,
it's a-a good movie,

- actually.
- Hmm.

Did it make you homesick?

Excuse me?

Be honest.

Do you really still think
your father

went out for a pack
of cigarettes?

I'm sorry, hey.

I-I'm... he says some
outrageous shit sometimes.

But you said it.
You the dummy.

Am I?

Is the author
writing the character

or the character
writing the author?

Be careful, Steve.

He looks mad.

And blacks are genetically
more prone to violence

than any other mammal.

I read that
in a book about dogs.

Whoa.

See, now we're about to have
a fucking problem.

Okay, listen, it's gonna
be hard to defend you

if you, uh, you prove his point.

Careful, Steve.

He's got a gun.

I mean, statistically speaking!

Hey-hey-hey-hey!

Knock it the fuck off
or I'll bounce you out of here!

They always lunge for the dummy.

What the fuck are you thinking?

I'm not following that
cracker puppet motherfucker.

It's his act!

You seen All in the Family?

The doll is Archie Bunker.

No, that guy's
just straight-up racist.

Obviously, you just
don't understand satire.

Racist shit passing for comedy
isn't satire.

That's... there's intent there.

Ooh, hey, Huey Newton,

you don't have
to go up at all tonight.

I'd honestly understand
if you didn't.

My grandparents
are from Tuskegee.

I know why the caged bird sings.

Goldie here?

You know, you put up
some shelves for her.

You didn't save her
from drowning.

I'm not pulling his act.

You're welcome.

So does it sound like
it's telling me

to go fuck myself?

Your first problem is that

there's over 200,000 miles
on it.

Believe it or not,
I bought it new.

It's like a fourth kid,
only it eats twice as much.

You have three kids?

In three different time zones.

I have a newborn.

Boy or girl?

Uh, don't know yet.

We haven't taken the diaper off.

Should use that.

Ah, three kids.

Three adults.

Goes by fast.

This is where you tell me, uh,
to cherish the moment, right?

'Cause so far it's been nothing

but screaming and shitting
and puking.

You'll look back fondly
when it's all

bitching, borrowing,
and blaming.

But all three went to college,

so it sounds a little
more eloquent than that.

All right, you have
a flooded carburetor.

So we're gonna let that sit
for a second.

That's so impressive.

What does your husband do?

With him, it's less about what
and more about who.

But to his credit,

he always remembers
their birthdays.

Every year he sends
each one of them a card

with five bucks inside
and a photo

of the most recent
alcoholic waitress he's banging.

Well, your kids
must appreciate it.

All the sacrifices you made.

Come on.

What?

I've sung that lullaby.
It's a lot of malarky.

And you know it.

Kids grew up without a mother

so she could bask
in the adoration of strangers.

We don't suffer for our art.

We love it.

People that love us,

they're the ones
that do the suffering.

He just doesn't get it.

Norman Lear's got three Emmys.

It's called social satire.

Welcome to my world!

You can't talk to those people

unless you got a fire hose
in one hand

and a German Shepherd
in the other.

They don't get what I do.

I say what everybody thinks.

You know, it's society
that throws its voice

through me.

Jazz and syphilis experiments.

Should have picked
our own fucking cotton.

I gotta pee.

I like your shoes.

So my doctor tells me

I'm a heart attack
waiting to happen.

So I says to him, I says, "Doc,

if I'm waiting as long
for the heart attack

as I was
to get in here to see you,

I'm all right with that!"

Why is it that people laugh
at everything

that comes out
of a fat comic's mouth?

Present company excluded.

That could be you up there,
but you sold your soul

for a pocket full of shrimp
and some finger sandwiches.

Fucking Indians got
a better deal on Manhattan.

'Cause when I step off
the city bus every day,

it tips over
and bursts into flames!

It's true.

He's that fat.

Oh, come on, Edgar.

I say we take the high road

and just beat
the shit out of him.

My uncle always says
you can beat the shit

out of somebody,
but not the stupid.

Ahh.
You know how most people say

- what goes around comes around?
- Mm-hmm.

Well, my mother used to say,

if that takes too long, just
step on his fucking glasses.

Your mama sound dangerous.

She is.
She is.

You know what? I wanted
to apologize to everyone.

I'm sorry about
all those fire trucks

you saw on the way here.

I actually burned my bra
last week

and it's still going.

I had a breast exam
the other day.

They found the Lindbergh baby.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

Told the doctor
that I wanted to breast-feed,

and, uh, he said, "Great!

I take lunch at one."

Now, that's how to tell a joke.

Boys just ain't hungry.
I'll tell you that much.

Is she really
an acquaintance of yours?

- Judy?
- Yeah?

Uh-huh.

Do you think you could
introduce us after the show?

Your mother'd get
a big kick out of it.

- Sure thing, Pop.
- I actually think

the last man ever to look me
straight in the eyes...

Excuse me.
Ladies room.

I don't know if you noticed,

but I happen to be a 36 triple.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You know, the titties
aren't even that big.

You know, someone asked me...
- See that? - Hmm?

If I ever turn into her,
do me a favor and kill me.

No, I'm not kidding.

Shoot me between the eyes,

stuff me in a duffel bag,

and toss me in a reservoir.

Hey, Cassie, just
shut the fuck up.

They were telling me
that their husbands

actually have names
for their schlongs.

What do you call a dog
with no legs?

Nothing, no matter
what you call him,

he ain't coming.

Where the fuck is he?

Who?

My act! Sam!
Who do you think?

Oh, I, uh, I think I saw him

in the janitor's closet
flirting with a mop handle.

Yeah, you know, I heard him

tell somebody
that he really liked you.

He just kind of wanted to feel

other men's hands up his ass.

Hey-hey-hey!
No fucking around!

If one of you guys stole it,
just fucking come clean

or you'll own it later.

Which one of you took him?

Sam was a $60 dummy.

That's expensive dollcraft!

If I did it,
I would want credit.

Shit, not me.
That's too obvious.

Look, man, we don't
have your dummy, all right?

So other than "you're fucked"
there's not a lot more

we can add to this conversation.

Did you say "dollcraft"?

Give it up for

The Cellar's
second-favorite ventriloquist,

Steve Gileski and
his little buddy, Sam Bowie.

Subtle, huh?

- Hey.
- Steve, you're up.

How am I up
without my fucking act?

What am I gonna do?
They called you up.

All right.
Tell Fitzy to vamp.

- Uh, excuse me.
- I'ma check the shitter again.

Nice hair.

Hey, uh,
can I borrow that for a bit?

You mind?
Thank you so much.

Cheers.

Great.
Dead air and no one onstage.

Hey, everybody,
I'm Steve Gileski

and I'm a racist prick.

Thank you.

Thank you.
I just...

No, I'm Steve Gileski,
and I'm a racist prick.

And I'm your host, Adam Proteau,
and welcome to

You Bet Your Life
I'm a Racist Prick.

All right, now, you both
are big-time racists, right?

- That's right, Adam.
- Oh, tremendous racist, Adam.

- You know it.
- Go whites.

You got that right.

Perfect.

All right, racist number one...
Yes.

A Jew, a Mexican, and a
Negro all walk into a bar.

- Wow.
- Quickly.

Who's the first one
that you refuse service to?

The Negro, Adam.

Well, why is that?

Uh, you know,
no particular reason,

just he's-he's black,

I got a daughter,
that kind of thing.

No, no.

Wow.

Hatred based purely upon
skin color and stereotypes

perpetuated
by ignorance and fear?

Absolutely.

That's correct!

Contestant number one,
you get ten points!

- Hey!
- Whoa!

Very good.

Thank you, Adam.

Uh, I'd hug you right now,
but you're a threat

to my family and my way of life.

Sure, sure.

This is true.

All right, racist number two...

Uh, a kike, a coon, a dago,
and a spic, Adam.

That's correct!

Yeah, yeah.

Hold on, what was the question?

Who the fuck cares?

That was serious racist shit
right there.

Doesn't matter, doesn't matter.

Ten points
for contestant number two!

Ten points!

Whoa, guys!

You were really hitting
the high notes out there.

Ha! It was like taking
a hot bath in a crowded room.

I said it went well.
No one's calling you Cleopatra.

You want a topper?

Ehh, nah, nah.

It'll make me too sleepy.

I don't like
the hours you're keeping.

You're gonna drive your car off
of the road one of these days.

Your daughter needs you alive

when you walk her
down the aisle.

Tell her fianc? that.

You, uh, do me a favor?

Yeah.
What's up?

Take tomorrow night off, huh?

Go...
be with the family.

I'll pay you
as if you were here.

Thanks, but...
I'll be okay.

I wish someone would write me
a check just for looking pretty.

What?

Is that what this is?

Look.

This just isn't your crowd.

What?

They were laughing.

Uh, some of them.

Did... and each one of them
bought two drinks.

You built a brand
that works in Vegas.

Be proud of that.

LA's a younger crowd.

These kids, they don't
get you like I get you.

Th-they want new.
They want what's next.

"They," huh?

Yeah.

I used to push you in the pool.

Oh, you say that like
you taught me to swim.

This is the place.

This is it.

Do you want me to die in Vegas?

Or Joliet?

Or on some riverboat
cemented to the dock?

I got no one else to call,
Goldie, only you.

It's here... or I'm glue.

I'm trying to do you a favor.

I'm trying to let you walk home
in your heels and your fur.

Before you embarrass yourself.

Is it always just business
with you, Goldie?

I thought we were friends.

Ohh.

This is the friends part.

The hell are you doing?

I'm paying the bill.

I'll see you and Susie
out front.

I got it, Dad.

They charge you for drinks?
You're an employee.

You're on vacation.

Unemployed.

Isn't that what you mean?

I'm just paying
for the drinks, Dad.

"Vacation."

What are you, some kind
of fucking smart aleck now?

What, you don't think
I hear your tone?

You think you're
some big fucking deal.

Well, listen here, Billy.

I can buy and sell you
ten times over,

so don't you
fucking forget that.

Fine, do you want to pay?
Pay.

No.
No, you go ahead, big shot.

Why don't you buy
the whole joint a round?

You're welcome.

Say what you just said.

Anyone got cables?

Yeah, I got some.

You're a prince.

Bum one of those?

Sure.

So who raised you?

What?

If your parents died,
then who raised you?

My uncle.

I liked your set
the other night.

Well, I think
you're in the minority.

What, are you waiting
for a consensus?

No, I'm not.

Good.

You tell ten people a
baby died, they all cry.

You tell ten people a joke?

Four laugh, four don't,
and two don't get it.

Just the way it is.

Right now,
I'd kill for those odds.

Ah, skinned knees.

It's all part of the game.

Come on, you're tough.

A hundred years from now,

people are still gonna be
listening to Beethoven

and ooh'ing over Michelangelo,
reading Shakespeare.

But us?

Jokes and shoulders,
that's what we are.

Yeah.
Jokes for people to laugh at

and shoulders for...

comics down the road
to stand on.

Fuck posterity.

You gotta push that envelope.

You got to shove it down
their fucking throats.

That's how you make your mark.

We're just a faint echo

in a joke told
a hundred years from now.

Trust me, I am not whining.

We get something better.

We get the moment.

You know, we get
the right fucking now.

I liked your set too.

Baloney.

Hey, did you find any?

Hold your fucking horses.

Unbelievable.

Toyota-loving cunt.

- Little bits of it.
- Oh, yeah!

Oh, Bill, just so you know,

if you would like
to pay the tab,

I promise not
to get pissed at you.

What's the age cutoff
for child abuse?

Is it 30?

Oh, shit, then it's just
regular abuse.

Doesn't get anywhere near
the sympathy.

Yeah, there's no adorable
spokesperson, is there?

When I was ten, my dad
beat me with a soup ladle

because I said that
Eisenhower walked like a lady.

In the middle of it,
he had an asthma attack

and my mom took over.

The really sad part is my mother
was a registered Democrat.

You know,
my father never hit me.

Really?

How did you guys
celebrate Christmas?

Left when I was five.

That's terrible.

Do you remember what you did
to make him not love you?

You don't know
how lucky you are, man.

Listen, I ain't mad.

The man did the best he could.

I think you mean
the least he could.

Oh, like your son ain't gonna be

bitching about you
when he's our age?

Yeah-yeah-yeah, that's why
I didn't order the fries.

I'm saving up for therapy.

That's smart.
My dad loves fries.

Come on, Bill,
there's got to be something

you can point to
that your father did right.

Well... I guess
he didn't hit us on Sundays

'cause that's God's day, so.

Come on, Bill.

Uh.

All right, well,
we were never hungry.

And, uh, there was always
a roof over our head.

There you go.
See?

Best you can do, right?

Yeah.

And that's all
your kid can hope for.

Heard-heard you wanted
to see me?

Come in.
Shut the door.

I'm very sorry to say,

but Edgar Martinez
is through here.

Goldie... But Manny Martinez

can play here
any night of the week.

Well, who-who's Manny?

That's you.

You're gonna change your name.

What?
But why?

What do you mean, why?
It's funnier.

Say it.

Manny Martinez.

Seriously?

Manny Martinez.

Again.

M-Manny Martinez.

Again.

M... Manny Martinez.

Again.

Manny Martinez.

Yeah, see how
it rolls off the tongue?

Edgar and I didn't get along.

He was always looking over my
shoulder for something better.

But Manny?

His future looks bright.

Now, you're gonna
go back to Teddy

and tell him
that Manny Martinez,

formerly known
as Edgar Martinez,

will no longer be playing there.

And when he asks you
why you changed your name,

you tell him you didn't.

I did.

You give your schedule to Arnie.

You can have any spot you want.

Thank you.

Oh, Manny?

Yeah?

Got a nice ring to it, huh?

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