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(male announcer) HBO presents

One Night Stand,

with comedian Bill Burr.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bill Burr.

[cheers and applause]

Thank you.

Thank you.

All right, thanks a lot.

Thank you so much.

[cheering continues]

Thank you.

For Christ's sake.

Thank you.

Thanks a lot.

I'm running out of ways to say "thank you," for Christ's sake.

How's it going?

[people whoop and cheer]

Excellent.

I was in a shitty mood today, man.

I was.

I was watching TV.

You ever been in, like, such a bad mood

that even when you're watching bad shit happening to people,

you're like, "You know what?

"Good.

"You know, I'm glad your life sucks.

It makes me feel better about my own."

No, you know what I was doing?

I was watching this-- you know those Fabulous Lives?

I was watching The Fabulous Life of the Olsen Twins, you know?

And they're like 18 years old; they're, like, zillionaires.

They got a great apartment.

It's making me feel like a loser.

Then halfway through it, I find out one of them is anorexic.

I was like, "You know what?

All right."

That makes me feel better.

You know, I'm glad she's not eating.

Hope you pass out, whack your head off your golden sink,

just to add to my day.

You know what I don't get?

I don't get how the other Olsen twin

only weighs half a pound more, but she's fucking fine.

No, they're so starving, they're weak.

That's why, whenever they take a picture of them,

you ever notice they got to, like, fucking lean them

up against each other, so, like, they don't tip over?

They're, like, still trying to look sexy.

They're not sexy.

They look like aliens.

They are, man.

You can't weight 42 pounds

and have your eyeballs be 28 of that weight

and not look like you're from outer space.

Like, when I look at them,

I think, "If ET was going to have a threesome,

those are the two bitches he'd hook up with."

He would.

He'd get that glowing finger going.

Now I'm feeling like a loser, man.

I am, man.

I'm fucking 36.

I'm not married, you know?

I'm at that age where everybody I know is getting married.

You know, let me ask you a question.

Why the hell do people keep getting married?

You know, isn't anybody looking at the stats?

I mean, what's it like,

one out of two marriages goes right down the shitter?

People, if you were going skydiving

and they told you

half the parachutes weren't going to open,

you'd be like, "Yo, fuck that.

I'm not going."

[cheers and applause]

Yeah.

No, it's like, I don't like those odds.

I get a 50% chance of splatting on the ground.

I'm not doing it, right?

But there's something about getting married,

people just have to do it.

They're just like, "Is this the line to lose half my shit?

"Awesome.

"This is going to be great.

"I can't wait to lose my car, my money.

"Oh, look, the line's moving.

One step closer to my own personal hell."

No, I don't think I could ever get married, man.

Married dudes freak me out.

Anytime you ask a married guy what's it like being married,

they always tell you it's good,

but they always have a look on their face

like they have, like, an appendicitis.

You ever notice that?

You're like, "Dude, what's it like being married?"

They're like, "You know, it's good; it's good.

"It's, uh--

"No, no, it's good; it's enjoyable.

"You know, it's a lot of work, but, uh, you know,

"I think when you meet that special someone,

"there's a connection-- and I can't feel my legs.

"Let me just lean over here.

You know, a woman completes a man and some other metaphor."

No, you know what freaks me out too, really?

When you go into a man's house, there's nothing in there.

A married guy's house, when you walk in there,

there's nothing in there

that even suggests a man even lives there.

It's all potpourri and throw pillows and that stupid

canopy, we-live-in-a-dollhouse bullshit over the bed.

Where does all the guy's stuff go?

They just throw it out.

They just walk into your apartment--

[feminizes voice] "Oh, my God, look at all your stuff.

"All your stuff is stupid.

"Look at all this stupid stuff.

"Wow, guys buy really stupid stuff.

"Hey, you want to go to the candle store?

"Let's go to the candle store.

Wouldn't that be awesome?"

You ever been dragged into that nightmare

for, like, an hour and a half, 90 minutes just sitting there--

[feminizes voice] "This one smells like a pumpkin.

"Doesn't that smell like a pumpkin?

"This one's like a Christmas tree.

"Wouldn't that be great?

"Smell like Christmas in the apartment, middle of summer--

just fuck with your whole reality?"

No, you know what it is?

I didn't have, like, a really good model, necessarily,

like, growing up, like, watching my parents.

They used to always argue and shit, you know.

Like, I was afraid of my dad

when I was growing up, you know?

Did anybody have a dad like that?

You're just afraid of him.

You know, not like those sitcom dads that come home,

the kids are, like, hugging their legs.

My dad pulled in the driveway.

Me and my brothers freak like, "Fucking Dad's home,"

shut off the TV, tried to hide.

"Dude, if I stand like this, do I look like a lamp?

"He won't see me, right?

Can I just fucking chill out here?"

He wasn't understanding.

When you fucked up, he told you.

He didn't sit down--"Well, we're going to work it out.

We'll just--you know, I still love you."

He'd look at you, "What the fuck is wrong with you?

"Jesus Christ, you're an idiot.

"Weren't you even paying attention?

"Oh, bullshit.

"Christ, you're just like your mother.

You're fucking out to lunch."

That was my dad.

No matter what he was bitching about,

somehow he would make it about my mother.

It would have nothing to do with her, nothing to do with her.

He could somehow find a connection and spin it back.

He'd sit in the house-- "Ah, is it raining out?

"Oh, for Christ's sake, I don't need this shit.

"Christ, it's the same goddamn thing with your mother.

"That woman is a fucking cloud hanging over my life.

Anytime you got an idea, Christ, she shits all over it."

No, he was hilarious.

He used to work all the time,

so he didn't really have, like, any friends or anything,

so he used to talk to me when I was eight years old

like I was a fucking bartender,

just dumping all this shit on me.

I'm, like, playing in the sandbox.

He'd be coming up, "I'll tell you, now,

"I don't know what the fuck I ever got married for.

"I'll tell you, man, I'm going to get the fuck out.

"I swear to God, one of these days, when I get in the car,

"I'm going to fucking drive out of here.

"Your mother's a bitch, Billy; do you realize that?

The woman is a fucking bitch."

Was that too real for you guys?

You fucking know what I'm talking about.

[cheers and applause]

I will get married, you know.

I'll definitely get married someday, you know?

You know, I love women and everything.

I'm just finding I'm not, like, compatible with them.

You know what I mean?

You ever just feel that?

Like, women have, like, too much energy for me,

you know what I mean?

Like, you can't have a day off when you have a girlfriend.

You ever notice that?

It's almost like they see that open day, and they're like--

[feminizes voice] "Oh, my God, let's go fill it up with shit."

No, then they just come at you

with one horrible idea after another.

Horrible ideas like--

[feminizes voice] "You want to make some sandwiches and go to the park?

"You want to go to the container store

and get some containers for your T-shirts?"

[cheers and applause]

This is the worst one.

You ever get this one?

[feminizes voice] "Want to go to brunch?

You want to go to brunch on Sunday?"

And inside you're like, "Fucking no,"

but you can't say that, right?

You got to keep them happy, so what do you do?

You agree, like, "Yeah, let's go to brunch.

What a great idea."

Why would you want to sleep in on a Sunday

when you can go pay $18 for eggs?

Now you're thinking.

Now you're thinking.

Then we can sit around and listen to your friends

have moronic conversations about the eggs, like--

[feminizes voice] "Is that pesto?

"Is that pesto in your omelette?

"Oh, it's asparagus.

"It's asparagus.

I thought it was pesto."

Oh, you just want to flip the whole fucking table over.

It's horrendous.

I'm trying to learn to pick my battles when I date girls.

I usually argue with women all the time.

Man, I'm stupid like that, you know?

Like, I dated this girl one time.

She was, like, really into, like, women's issues,

so we used to always have these dumb-ass arguments.

So one time she came up to me,

and she goes, "Okay, explain this to me, Bill.

"Why does a guy make more an hour to do the exact same job?

Huh? Hmm? Hmm?"

I go, "I'll tell you why.

"Because in the unlikely event that we're both on a Titanic

"and it starts to sink,

"for some fucked-up reason, you get to leave with the kids,

and I have to stay."

Yeah, that's why I get the dollar more an hour.

No, think about it.

If there's a house fire, it's always women and children first.

I got to stand there with, like, the back of my shirt on fire,

going, "Let's go, people; let's go; let's go."

So that's how I look at it.

No, it's a dollar-an-hour surcharge

that if something fucked up happens,

either I can't leave or I got to, like, get in the way of it

to give you a head start, like, "Rabid dog; run, honey.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi."

You hear a bump in the night; I got to go check it out,

like, "Yes, he does have a knife."

Any time there's a hostage situation,

who do they negotiate for first?

"Well, at least let the women and children go."

Well, what about me?

Bullets hurt me too.

Why the fuck do I got to stay in the vault?

[cheers and applause]

No, that's my point, man.

Where are all the feminists in those situations,

you know what I mean?

You can't find them.

There are no feminists in a house fire.

That's a guarantee.

You could take the most hard-core feminist,

some chick right in your face like,

"You chauvinistic son of a bitch,"

little short, little haircut; the whole nine yards, right?

The second those flames break out,

she's going to twist those little hairs into pigtails.

[feminizes voice] "Ooh, I'm just a girl.

I want to go play jump rope,"

and leave you standing in a burning house

like you're not flammable.

You know, but I'm not a dick, though.

I'm not.

I'm not saying I think a woman should make

a dollar less an hour to do the same job.

All I'm saying is, if you're going to make what I make,

when the boat sinks,

you better be standing right there next to me,

listening to that guy play the cello.

Then you get the corner office.

You get all the benefits of whatever.

So anyways, I was watching George Bush today, man.

That guy scares the shit out of me.

No, not because of, like, you know, all that political stuff.

He's just, like, too into Jesus for me.

I get uncomfortable with that.

When people get, like, overly religious,

it kind of freaks me out, you know?

You know what I mean?

Like, I don't mind--

I don't mind when, like, black people

get really into Jesus, though, you know,

because, like, somehow, like, the shit stays spiritual.

You know, you get a couple of good songs out of it.

You know what I mean?

People look like they're having a good time.

Somehow when, like, white dudes get too into Jesus,

all of a sudden, like, shit catches on fire,

people start dying,

somebody says they're Jesus

and they try to fuck every chick in the compound.

Then the FBI has got the place surrounded.

That tank comes in, shooting the flames out the front.

I'm not saying white dudes

are any more crazier than black dudes.

It's just that nobody's watching us.

That's the problem.

There's too much freedom.

It's kind of like living alone,

you know, that same kind of fucked-up freedom?

You ever feel when you live alone,

you, like, slowly go crazy?

You know, because you got too much freedom,

because everybody does crazy shit,

but when you live alone and start doing something crazy,

there's nobody there to be like,

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?

"What is wrong with you?

"What is that?

Put it down."

My girl's actually, she's really, like, religious.

She goes to church every week,

and I never go, and it freaks her out.

She's like--

[feminizes voice] "Why don't you go to church?

"You don't believe in God

"and Heaven and hell and all that stuff, huh?

Why don't you go?"

And it's not because I don't believe in a higher power.

I definitely do.

My thing is, when I go to church,

I can't get past the fact

that I'm just listening to some fucking guy.

You ever think of that shit when you go in there?

That's just some dude.

And people are like, "No, that's a special guy."

No, it isn't.

It isn't.

[cheers and applause]

Nah, he didn't, like, levitate

down from the ceiling like, ♪ "Ahhhhhh," ♪

with white light around him.

Why would you listen to another human being

tell you where you're going to go when you die?

It's just like, "Dude, have you ever been dead?

"No, great.

"So wouldn't it be safe to assume

"that you wouldn't have the slightest fucking idea

what you're talking about?"

[cheers and applause]

Yeah, you're making it up.

You're making this shit up.

You're not fooling me with the robes and the candles,

speaking in Old English-- "He said it unto you."

Shut the fuck up.

You don't talk like that.

You're just some guy.

Your name's Jerry, you played soccer,

you got your ass kicked in gym class,

and now you're doing this.

Acting like you're special.

I can't do it.

I just--I can't get past that fact.

I'm sitting in church.

This guy's name's fucking Cliff.

He was fucking born-- and just break the guy down,

and then I can't listen.

It's like, you want to listen to another human being

tell you what to eat and when to eat it?

"Don't eat meat this Friday.

If you eat meat this Friday, you are going to hell."

It's like, "Dude, I'm going to a cookout on Friday."

"If you eat that fucking cheeseburger, buddy,

that is it for you."

Who is this guy?

Dude, I'll eat a cheeseburger whenever I want to.

And I'll jerk off; it's my dick.

Why am I listening to this guy?

I'll fucking jerk off while I eat a cheeseburger.

What do you think about that?

I'm not hurting anybody.

Why would God care?

I'm not hurting anybody.

Think about it.

You eat a cheeseburger, that's protein.

That's good for your muscles, right?

Now, I don't know about you guys,

but after I rub one out, I'm all relaxed.

I'm less likely to lash out at my fellow man.

I'm in a great space mentally.

I don't have any road rage.

I talk to telemarketers.

I'm buying the shit.

I think they just make it all up.

But it's weird, though, because I'm kind of feeling this thing

because I haven't been to church in a while.

I'm kind of feeling like, you know, I want to go back,

but I need a new religion, man.

I'm kind of between religions right now.

You know, like, I used to be Catholic,

but, you know, I can't be Catholic anymore, you know?

I mean, once they started fucking the kids,

I was just like, "All right, dude, you know what?

"I'm out, okay?

"You guys party way too fucking hard for me, okay?

"I got off at about 22 exits ago.

"I didn't see that page in the book.

I don't know what you guys are doing."

I can't believe they're still in business.

People are still showing up.

Name one other business that could survive that shit.

You think if they were fucking kids at Wal-mart,

they could sell rakes the next day and just try to play it off

like, "Yeah, we had a little problem in aisle eight,

"but, you know, we got some slacks over here.

"We got kitchen appliances.

We got some Hula-Hoops."

[cheers and applause]

You guys saw the Pope died?

You saw that, right?

Yeah, everyone was flipping out.

Man, I thought that was a good thing.

I was, like, happy for him, man.

He was in horrible health, you know what I mean?

Everybody just wanted the guy to keep hanging on.

It's ridiculous.

They're, like, wheeling him from room to room,

and people are still flipping.

[whimpering] "Oh, my God, I think he's going to die.

"Do you think he's going to die?

I'm so--"

It's like, well, I think he's going to go to Heaven.

I mean, it's got to be better than that shit.

I bet the last two months of his life,

he was just sitting in that chair,

going, "God, I wish the world would stop praying for me.

"Just fucking let me go.

"Good Lord.

"I skied till I was 78.

"I had a great life.

Move on."

So they got a new Pope now.

They picked another old, white dude, you know?

And actually in the running

was this black dude from Nigeria, right?

They were actually considering making him the Pope,

and I was kind of hoping he was going to win, you know.

Not because I give a fuck either way.

I just wanted to see all the black comics

doing bits, like, the next day, like,

[fake voice] "Oh, white people scared now.

"White people is scared now.

"Yeah, the Pope is black and shit.

"It's going to be a whole different story.

"He's going to come in with the hat to the side.

"Music's going to be pumping.

"White people in the front row,

'Gee, I don't know what the fuck's going on.'

Because when black people go to church--"

Couldn't you just feel it?

That was like a half hour of material

went out the fucking window

the second they picked another white dude.

It was endless.

"Popemobile is going to be pimped out,

"and you better not be shooting at this Pope.

"A black Pope will be shooting back at your ass...

because when white people get shot--"

et cetera, et cetera.

Actually, I had this black dude moved in my building, man;

lives on the same floor as me.

He's one of these dudes, every time--he's hilarious--

every time he says some shit,

right after he's done saying the shit,

he repeats, like, the most important part

of, like, the previous sentence.

It's hilarious.

Everything he said will be like,

"Yo, my man, came in.

He put that shit on the table-- put it on the table."

[cheers and applause]

It's hilarious.

Everything he says.

"Now this country's at war, son-- war."

I'm just looking at my friend like,

"Dude, did you hear him the first time?

"'Cause I heard him the first time.

"I was smiling; I was nodding.

"Am I fucking supposed to do that?

I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

[laughs]

Actually, I got a couple friends of African persuasion,

and I got to get rid of them, man, I'm gonna admit to you.

I'm finding I'm spending too much money on clothes

hanging out with them,

because I got to, like, fucking try to keep up

with their wardrobe.

It's like every time they go out,

they got all brand-new shit on, all brand-new shit.

So when I show up with my white version of brand-new,

which is basically I ironed the shit, right?

I ironed it, right?

It's new.

They just start trashing me.

I can't keep up with them, man.

They got, like, fucking 58 pairs of sneakers.

Ever noticed that shit?

Like, every color fucking Timberland.

I don't give a shit what fucked-up color their shirt is.

They got a pair of shoes to match it and a hat.

It's like a rule or something.

They're the worst.

Even when you wear some new shit,

there's, like, some sort of rule that you got to, like, space out

the amount of time within which, like, that you wear it,

because God forbid you wear the same shirt

within a ten-day period.

One of them is going to notice.

They'll all of a sudden just look at you funny, like,

"This motherfucker's got the same shit

he had on last Tuesday."

And then the whole car's like, "Oh, shit!"

Then everybody just starts

making fun of your fucking clothes.

First they do the math.

"What was that, five days ago?

"Five days!

"This motherfucker's got five shirts.

He got five shirts."

And then they start breaking it down.

"Yo, his first shirt be saying 'Monday.'

"The next shit be saying 'Tuesday.'

Yo, on the weekend, he ain't be wearing no shirts."

I'll tell you, that's actually funny.

You know what?

That's actually how I judge black guys now.

When I first came to this city,

like, all black people scared me.

I was like the typical white dude from, like, the suburbs,

you know what I mean?

I had no frame of reference, you know?

My only frame of reference with black people was, like,

remember those early '90s gangster rap videos?

Throw the fucking L.A. riots in there, man.

It was fucking horrible PR.

I'm watching the videos.

He's got a nice car, he's got all the women,

and he's still fucking mad.

These black dudes are never happy.

But after ten years of living in the city,

this is how I narrow it down

whether a black dude scares me or not.

Black dudes with dirty sneakers

scare the fucking shit out of me.

No, I figured it out in my head,

because I know from hanging out with them,

that's the last shit that they're going to let go,

the immediate shit that they have on,

so I think, you know,

if his sneakers are fucked up,

that means his life is fucked up.

Every time he leaves his building,

the whole neighborhood, "Oh, shit!"

Everyone starts making fun of him.

He's on the train in a bad mood.

I kind of have this Howdy Doody, kind of mug-me kind of face.

Now, I'm not saying something is going to happen.

I'm just saying, I'm paying attention.

So I've been seeing this girl recently,

this black girl, right?

She lives up in Harlem, you know.

Going out like three or four times, you know?

The first time we hung out, we hung out

we hung out in, like, the Village area of New York,

you know, which is sort of like--

[muffled voice] a racially mixed area.

So shit was cool, you know what I mean?

The second time we hung out was more like Midtown, you know.

Then the third time she called me at like 3:30 in the morning,

and she wanted me to come up to her apartment, right?

So it's 3:30 in the morning.

She lives in Harlem, I look how I look,

so it's a fucking situation.

Yeah, because you know the deal, right?

Basically a white dude feels comfortable

up to about, like, 98th, 99th Street,

you know what I'm saying?

The second the streets start getting to, like, triple digits,

like 100, 101st Street,

I start getting, like, a little asthma, like, "Oh, fuck.

"We're starting to get a little high up here.

"Do you feel that little tightness in your chest?

Can you feel that?"

106th Street, you're, like, leaning on shit,

like, "Dude, where did all the cabs go?

"How come there's no taxis up here?

"Dude, what's a bodega?

"I don't know what that is.

Let's get the fuck out of here."

So I'm praying to God she's going to tell me

to take the subway and get off at, like, 105th Street, 103rd,

you know, which is, like, the first stop in Harlem

where I can still look over my shoulder

and see, like, all the white people, like, disappearing

over the horizon, you know?

But she goes, "No, man, you want to get on the Uptown 23 train.

You want to get off at 125th Street."

I'm like, "Fuck, 125th Street.

"Jesus Christ, that's like right in the middle of everything.

"I'm going to be surrounded on all four sides.

I can't fucking do this."

So at this point I'm really trying to hide,

like, the bitchy tone

that's start to creep into my voice, you know?

And I'm trying to ask for really specific directions

for when I get up there,

because I want to know exactly where I'm going.

So she starts naming the streets I have to go down,

and every other street up there

is named after, like, a black leader, you know?

She's like, "Make a left on Adam Clayton.

Take a right on Frederick Douglas."

I'm like, "Ah, fuck, Adam Clayton.

"Now, dude, go on the internet and look up Adam Clayton.

"Did he kill a bunch of white people during the slave revolts?

"Dude, I ain't going up there

"till I know what Adam Clayton did.

Fuck this shit."

So at this point, I'm really having a battle with myself,

because I'm thinking I can't do this, right?

I'm like, "I can't do this,"

but my dick's going, "No, come on, man.

"We can do this, all right?

"Just relax.

Pull yourself together and get on the goddamn train, right?"

So as always, I listen to my dick.

Oh, yeah, I get on the train.

By the time I get up there,

it's like 5:00 or 4:00 in the morning, right?

I'm standing on, like, Malcolm X

and, like, Danny Glover or some shit, right?

I don't even know where the hell I'm at.

When I see the street I want to go up--

I want to go up St. Nick.

I can literally see her apartment building,

but there's like five or six black dudes

standing right on the corner, right where I want to walk by,

so I'm like, "Fuck."

I thought I was on, like, some reality show at that point,

like some sort of like white guy Survivor.

It was ridiculous.

So I'm thinking I got to walk right by these guys, right?

You know what's funny?

I think that they were actually more surprised to see me

than I was scared, you know?

And I was really, really scared, you know,

but I'm also really, really white, you know?

Like, shockingly Caucasian.

You know what I mean?

Like, if you're not ready for me, I can, like, surprise you.

No, especially if you live up there.

You probably haven't seen a white person for hours,

possibly days, so when I show up, it's almost like magical,

like a leprechaun came out of nowhere, you know?

I feel like I should have had, like, a little pot of gold

and, like, a rainbow behind me.

[Irish accent] Top the morning to you, laddie.

Just kind of dance my way past them.

But it's been going all right, you know?

Once I get in her apartment, I'm fine, you know?

I relax, sit down, you know, watch the hip-hop countdown--

[laughs]

pretend like I know the groups, you know what I mean?

[laughs]

It's just getting there that's a fucking pain in the ass.

But, you know, I don't get mad at it,

because I figure, you know,

a black dude's got to go through the same shit, though, right,

when you go out to the suburbs, go fuck a white girl, right?

It's that same awful feeling

of just leaving your people behind, you know?

Just less and less of you

as you're fucking driving out there.

Probably start off leaning, you know, all fucking cool.

20 minutes in, you're driving like 10:00 and 2:00.

The radio's off, like, "Dude, I don't like this shit.

"I don't like this shit at all.

"There's too much grass; I don't see any rims.

"This is fucked up.

"None of the windows are tinted.

"I can clearly see white people in every car.

This is fucked up."

Listen, you guys were awesome.

Thank you so much for coming out.

God bless you.

Thank you very much.

All right, man, take care.

Thank you.

[cheers and applause]

Copyright: 2005 Home Box Office, Inc.

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