Practice English Speaking&Listening with: Chris Porter: Screaming From the Cosmos

Difficulty: 0


(punching sound effect)


Limo's here, are you ready?



Yeah, I'm ready.

Let's do it.


-Mr. Porter? -What's up, buddy?

Any thoughts, brother? We're rolling.

Um, I'd like to thank Jesus,

and small puppies,

and kids who have cancer,

because they are what give me the inform...

and beer.

Ladies and gentlemen,

please welcome Chris Porter!


What's up, Kansas City?

How are you doing?


Sit down, have a seat.

Uh, it's good to be back.

I just got back from southern Florida.

Hell yeah.

Holy shit, the old people...

...are fucking everywhere!

Old people in southern Florida

are like Mexicans are everywhere else.

Know what I'm saying?

There's a lot of 'em.

But you know how Mexicans are cool and funny

and sometimes they can get you weed?


Old people are the exact opposite!

They are mean and rude

and they don't give a shit about you or your crosswalk.


And I'm thinking, "Hey, old people,

if you're that close to death,

maybe you should be on your best behavior?"

You know what I'm saying?

Like a little kid right before Christmas?

Your big day's a'coming.


Maybe you should finish strong, you know?


Maybe let me out of the elevator

before you clip me in the ankles with your fucking scooter,

that'd be nice.

How about that?


I spent most of today watching my new favorite show on MTV.

It's called Engaged and Underage.

Have you seen it?

It's hysterical!

It's kids under the age of 21

and they're getting married.

They should rename it to

Hey, Look, We're Fucking Up Our Lives.


No one seems to give a shit.

In fact, Mom and Dad are financing it.

Why do you want to get married under the age of 21?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The government doesn't even trust you with beer yet.


Maybe that's a sign you're not ready for a life decision.

You don't know shit about yourself at the age of 20,

'cause, you know, you're growin' up.

You hit plateaus in life where you change, you know?

You hit bigger ones when you get older.

Like when you're 50, the day shows up where you're a dude,

you're like, hey, fuck it, shorts and loafers.


Do that, it's a good look.

Or, if you're an 80-year-old woman,

apparently the day shows up where you're like,

yeah, fuck you, I've got a beard.


It's white and it's wispy.

Call me Santa.

I don't give a shit, I'm 80.

I'm just happy you're talking to me.


You hit a lot of those plateaus between the ages of 20 and 35.

I've recently hit one.

I don't talk to stupid people anymore.

I don't.

I don't.

Even if I wanted to fuck you.


Remember those days?

There was a day when I was 25, ladies,

you could've said the dumbest shit in the world,

and I would've agreed with you!

I would've been like, "Fuck yeah!

Coldplay's awesome!

They're the best!"


Now, I can't do it. Something happened.

Twenty-six years old and my ears and my dick got connected.


Now if you say some stupid shit, it quits working.

It does--If you ask me who Led Zeppelin is,

I can't pee for like an hour.


If you drink Red Bull with your liquor,

I don't even approach you anymore.

I don't, I don't.

Fucking stop it.

All of you.

Guys, girls, stop it.

Stop mixing the Red Bull with the liquor!

There is a reason that your body shuts down

when you've had too much to drink.

It's 'cause you need to shut the fuck up!




Your body has taken a vote and decided

your face needs to quit it.


That's why when you pass out, your arms are like this,

'cause you fucking tackled yourself.

You're like, "Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut up!"


It's three in the morning.

Shut up, okay?

I don't want to talk anymore.

It's three.

There's two things to do at three in the morning:

sleep and fuck, and that's it.

All right?

And guess what?

Second one's not gonna be very good.

You know why?

'Cause it's three in the morning.

That's why.

If you would've talked to me at one,

I'd've rocked your world, but...

it's three now.

I'm tired, and I'm grumpy.

I did shit today.


If you live in an apartment complex,

you know the people that drink Red Bull,

'cause they don't park their cars.

They just slam 'em into shit.


(mimicking crashing car)

"Lock it!"


You know why these kids are getting married?

'Cause these girls won't fuck 'em

till they get married...

which is fine.

Ladies, if you want to hold back the poon, God bless you.


But let me tell you something: shit's gonna happen, okay?

If you put an obstacle in front of a 20-year-old virgin

and tell him that pussy is on the other side,

shit's gonna get done, okay?

Marriage, what's that?

A trip to the mall?

That's easy.

He was going there anyway.

You know, why don't you think about the rest of us, ladies?

If you wield that kind of power,

why don't you think about society for a change?

How about, "Hey, I'm not fuckin' anybody till they cure cancer."


It'll be two weeks!

Some 20-year-old will be like,

"I got it! I got it!

It's right here!

It's right here!"


"It was carrots and mustard, who knew?

No one had ever mixed them 'cause they're gross, but...

I'll work on AIDS next week,

but right now, I need a blowjob, okay?

And then we'll cure your brother."


So I flew back from Florida.

I stopped in Atlanta.

I didn't want to, it's Delta's fault.


I was in an airport.

I was at a McDonald's,

and the gentleman in front of me got his order,

and it was incorrect,

and he was pissed.

He was fucking pissed,

like someone had dinged his Prius!

He was angry.

And I just looked at him, like,

"What's your level of expectation

at McDonald's?"

How angry can you get?

'Cause, yeah, yeah, he fucked up your order.

He did that, yeah.

He fucked up his life

three years ago, okay?

He's got enough problems.

He works at the airport McDonald's.

He can't even lie and say it's close to his house,

'cause it's not, it's at the airport.


Just saying, give the guy a break, you know?

He's having a bad enough day.

He was gonna shoot himself in the face

but they took his gun away at the checkpoint.


I just don't know why people get angry over stupid shit.

People get mad in traffic.

I understand if it's like a Saturday

and you're on the Plaza and some retard won't turn left.


I get that.

But Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning,

you can't get pissed.

People act like it's the first time

this shit ever happened, you know?

"It's Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning.

What are all these cars doing here?"


So they honked their horns.

Has that ever worked?

Have you ever been in gridlock and they're like, honk honk,

and everyone started doing 70 again?


Like there were 15 stoners up at the front going,

"Oh, shit.


Sorry, my bad!

My bad!

I was fucking with my iPod."


But I realize something:

it's always the same people that honk their horns in traffic.

It's always people in shitty cars.

I'm not trying to be mean, but think about it:

everyone in this room knows what a shitty car horn sounds like.

You'll be sitting at home, you hear, "Beep, beep!"

"Fucking Festiva, where is it?

Where is it?

It's got a spoiler.

It's a '96."


What kind of sound does a Rolls-Royce horn make?

I don't know either.

No one knows, not even people who own a Rolls-Royce.

They're not even driving the thing.

They're sitting in back, smoking weed,

listening to Zeppelin.

That's what I would do if I had a Rolls-Royce.


People who honk their horns in traffic

are the people who've run out of options,

and it hits 'em.

They're just like, "I got a shitty car,

shitty job, shitty life.

Meep, meep, motherfuckers!

Meep, meep!

Look at me, look at me, meep, look at me!

I'm covered in Axe body spray."


"I am listening to Nickelback.

Shit has taken a turn for the worse."



Whoever thought there-- a band come out

that made Creed look awesome?


See, sir, there was this band called Creed,

and they came out, and they were like really whiny rock.

And, um, everyone was like, "Get them outta here!"

Then they left, and Nickelback showed up.

And so everyone was like, "Call Creed."


Someone needs to "Take Me Higher"

than Nickelback.


And Axe body spray, I've said it before:

fuckin' stop it.

Stop it, all of you.

'Cause girls, you're part to blame,

'cause you're fucking these dudes.

You are, you are, 'cause if you weren't,

this shit wouldn't sell, would it?

But it's selling like hotcakes.

And ladies, you deserve better.

You deserve better than some douche bag

that spent four bucks at Walgreens.


Axe body spray is proof positive that we as Americans

will buy whatever the fuck comes on television, okay?

They've got us now. They know it.

You know what's coming out next?

Poop in a box.

That's what's next.

You're gonna be watching TV.

There's gonna be a close-up of poop in a box.

Then they're gonna pull back and there's gonna be a hot girl

dancing next to poop in a box.

And every single pop-collared douche bag in the country

is gonna go, "Holy shit!

Maybe if I have poop in a box,

a pretty girl will dance next to me."


So they're gonna run out

and they're gonna jump in their Scion...


...and halfway to Walgreens, common sense is gonna kick in.

They're gonna go, "Wait a minute,

I have a box!"


Axe body spray is a regression as a society, okay?

Every time someone uses it,

we all take a step backwards.

'Cause I want you to think about it:

up until this moment in human history,

even the shittiest colognes in the world

did not come in an aerosol can.

They didn't.

They didn't.

They didn't.


Old Spice, Aqua Velva, Hai Karate.


They all still had enough balls to have a spritzer.

And now we've got the Aqua Net of colognes.


And everyone knows somebody that uses it. You do.

Right before you walked in here tonight,

they were like, "Hold on."

(makes spraying sound)


"I'm ready."


But no one had left the car yet.

So now, all your friends smell like date rape.


I asked my friend why he did it.

I go, "Why do you do that?

Why do you cover yourself in that shit?"

He said, "I don't want to smell like pot and beer."


Why not?

You know, we've got pot and beer.

Let's advertise.

'Cause I'm gonna tell you something:

if a girl does not like pot and beer,

she's not gonna like us at all.


So I'm single.



What's up with that, Mr. Picky?

Sucks being single and a guy.

It's fun for girls; it's nothing but free drinks and attention.


For dudes, it's having a penis

and nowhere to put it.


Girls don't know what that's like.

They have a vagina.

Yeah, walk the earth long enough,

someone's gonna fuck it.

It's just a matter of time,

and you lowering your standards a little bit.


But if you've got a penis, there's no guarantees anymore.

You've gotta have something else to accentuate your penis,

like a car

or a job.

Forty dollars.

Something, you know?


Penis needs an ad campaign like

"Penis: it's what's for dinner."


"Have it your way."

"Is it in you?"


'Cause we're going up against a superior product.

You gotta look at it from a marketing standpoint.

The vagina's perfect.

It's symmetrical.

It's like a little pocket.

I'm gonna lick it.

I'm gonna put things in there.


Like my penis, or my tongue,

or the title to my truck.

Only shit I care about.

Only shit I care about.


I'd ask her first, you know?

You can't just go shoving shit up there.

They hate that.

They hate that.

That's rape in a lot of counties.

Who needs that on your record, you know what I'm saying?

You gotta start telling people when you move and shit.


I'm just gonna say, you gotta feel like a douche on that day,

you know?

"Hey, I touched a little girl.


Kinda like the day you buy a yellow Hummer, you know?

Yeah, yeah, I said it.

Fucking are you serious?

Do you need a yellow Hummer?

Really? Really?

How small is your dick, really?

Is it that small?

Is it that small?


I don't understand.

Why a Hummer?

I love rap music.

I love it.

Why a yellow one? It's not even attractive.

It's like, "Hey, look, I'm driving the sun."


"And I got a small penis."


So this is all new to me, being single.

I dated a girl for three years, and I learned some shit,

like if you're gonna do that, she should like you.


Like, as a person.

This girl would yell at me

'cause she ran out of shit to do.

Not like it was my fault.

We'd be going to bed, she'd be like,

"Oh, there's nothing on TV.

Let's fuck with you for a while."


Damn you, Nick at Nite.


I woke up in the middle of an argument.


How does that happen, ladies, ever?

I'd been asleep six hours.

"You listen to me, you cocksucker."


I didn't know what the hell was going on.

I thought she was on her cell phone.

I started laughing.

And I was like, "Listen to this poor son of a bitch."


It was me.


So I broke up with her.

A lot.

'Cause I'm an idiot.

I did, I am, I'm like, I'll call her, I'll be like,

"You're fucking crazy, don't call me, we're over, bye."

She calls me the next day.

"I'm not crazy."

"Oh, my bad."


"See ya in 20."

But I finally go away from it, right?

Then it took me like a year just talk to women.

I was scared.

I was scarred is more like it.

Women would come up to me after shows,

and they'd be like, "Hey, how you doing?"

I'd be like, "I don't wanna argue.



But I moved on and I started dating again,

and I was terrible at it,

'cause everything had changed.

The scene had changed: you gotta go to a club now,

which is retarded, 'cause clubs are dark and loud.

You end up walking out like, "Oh, shit.

All right, sorry.


Nah, we're cool, we're cool.

We're gonna have to stop by a liquor store,

but I'm cool."



Can't talk to 'em.

Music's so loud, it's like,

"Hi, how are you?" "What?"

"I said, 'What's your name?'"


"You wanna fuck?"


"Here, I wanna do this later.

"This is what I wanna do later."

That's all you do in a club.

You just rub your dick on chicks

till one sticks around.


"This is what I want to do.

Rubby rubby rub rub."


Girls go. They fucking love it.

They're like, "I had eight dicks rubbed on me tonight.

This is my lucky outfit."

(makes whipping sound)



Apparently, if you want to date a girl now,

before you even talk to one,

you've gotta call your cell phone company

and get a text messaging plan.


Holy shit, ladies.

What the fuck?

It's a phone.

It's a phone.

It's a fucking phone.

Press talk.

How about it, huh?

If you wanna talk, press the button that says

the shit that you wanna do.

I'm not anti text message.

Me and my buddies text message each other all the time.

But it's a message.

It's one line that needs no answer.

Shit like, "Meet me here."

Or, "I'm running late."

Or, "That girl you're talking to is fucking nasty,"

shit like that.



Don't look at me like that, 'cause girls do it, too.

It doesn't matter what sex you are.

It doesn't even matter what your sexual orientation is.

If you've ever been hitting on somebody

and shit was going well,

and then they looked at their phone,

looked at you,

and walked away,

somebody has just reached out and cock blocked you

is what happened.


You know what cock blocking is, sir?

Don't pick on me.

No, I'm just asking.

I'm not picking on you.

I was just asking.

You're not really in my demo.

You know what I'm saying?

Making sure I'm crossing over.


If you don't know what cock blocking is,

I'll explain it to you,

'cause it's a funny joke.

You shouldn't not get it

just 'cause you're unfamiliar

with the verbiage.

Say me and this guy right here were friends,

we're gonna go out for a night on the town,

try to score some tail,

'cause it's 1942

and people still talk like that.


So Jimmy and I hop out of the DeLorean and...


...mosey into the speakeasy.

Jimmy sees this girl. "Hey, " he goes,

"I'm gonna go hit on that girl."

I go, "Sweet. I'm gonna go to the bar,

check out the rest of the talent."


I go to the bar, get my beer,

turn around, realize that Jimmy's hitting on

the hottest chick in the place,

and I can't let that happen,

'cause I'm number one, he's number two.

That's just how it works.

I gotta get Jimmy out of the way.

How do I do it?

I go, "Hey, Jimmy,

how's the herpes?

You flaring?

Is it bad?"


That's how dudes do it.

Girls are a lot better at it.

You never see these bitches coming.

You'll have her friend posted upright,

and she's totally into you.

She's like, "I'm gonna take you home,

I'm gonna suck on every inch of your body

and bring you to a level of ecstasy

you have never achieved."


Out of nowhere, her friend's like, "Hey, we're leaving."

She's like, "See ya!"

And they're gone!


The fuck was that?

Did you see that? Some sort of cock blocking ninja?

She came out of nowhere.


But girls want to conversate via the text message.

Have you ever gotten a text message from a girl?

Holy shit.

Nothing but questions.

"Hey, how are you? What are you doing?

What are you doing later? What are you thinking?"

Beep bop boop bop beep.

"I'm fine.

Kind of wish you didn't have thumbs right now..."


"...'cause then maybe we could talk."


'Cause girls are so efficient with the phones.

You ever seen a girl with a ten-button phone?

It's like a goddamn court stenographer.

Beep bop bop bop bop bop bop.

"Hi, do you want to go to the beach?"


Every text message I send takes seven minutes.




I don't need a seven.


Meanwhile, she's freaking out.

"Why aren't you texting me back?

Are you seeing somebody else?

What's going on?"

"No, I'm fucking retarded.

Shut up!

Shut up!"


You end up calling her.

"Give me five minutes.

Just give me five fucking minutes, okay?

Hey, hey, I'm on the phone.

Just tell me what you were gonna type.

Was it JK?

Was it LOL?

Was it semicolon, closed parenthesis?

What the fuck was it?"


"I'm not as good at this as you are."


'Cause you don't know how unfair it is, ladies.

You don't know what it's like to talk to you.

You talk to each other.

That's different, 'cause you're women.

You got the pheromones, and the estrogen,

and the vaginas, and whatever.


I don't even think you need to talk to each other.

I think you're doing it just to fuck with us,

to be honest with you.

See, look, they're all looking at each other, aren't they?

Yeah! Yeah, I'm on to something!

You're gonna find me gagged out in a dumpster with tampons.

Yeah, the woman mafia got me is what happened there.


I'm gonna be Hoffa in this bitch.


It's hard, it's hard to talk to you,

'cause you're all unique.

You're all individual.

You all have your own little shit

that makes you fucking crazy.

You do, you do, and that's why your date's not laughing.


'Cause if it wasn't true, he would laugh.

He'd laugh, he'd be like, "Haha, this stuff's crazy.

I don't know what he's talking about."

But no, he's like, "Hey, fuckhead, it's Saturday.

Let's not cock block, okay?

Let's not bring up the crazy.

She's doing good."


'Cause you do, and it's always something weird.

It's always something crazy like,

"Don't say 'toast.'

I hate that word."

Like, "What?" "When I was younger,

I had a bad experience with toast,

and I am just not comfortable enough with you and I

to tell you the toast story yet.

But if you could just do me a favor

and just say 'baked bread,' that'd be super."


And we gotta figure this shit out.

It's not just one thing, it's not just a dozen things.

It's a million things, and they're always changing.

We never figure them all out.

I know this, 'cause my dad has been married to my mom

for 30 years,

and that man can still talk to that woman face-to-face,

piss her off, and have no idea how the fuck it happened,

at all!

And Dad's still trying to learn.

You'll see him in another room like 20 minutes later

reworking the whole scenario,

trying to figure out where he fucked up, you know?



"Dad, what happened?"

"I don't know!

I don't know, I got home from the store.

Fucking all hell broke loose!"

"Did you get everything on the list?"

"I got everything on the list, man.

Apparently, there was a list I was unaware of,

and it was in her face."


Dad was smart.

Dad realized Mom was pissed

and got the fuck out,

'cause that's what you're supposed to do.

He walked home, he was like, "Honey, I'm home."

And she was like, "Hey."

He's like, "Fuckin' see ya!"


'Cause my father knows what most older men know:

that when a woman's mad, for the first 20 minutes,

it doesn't matter why.

It doesn't, it doesn't.

You just get away from it.

It's like right before a tsunami.

You don't ask questions.

You just walk out to the beach, you're like,

"Oh, shit, all the water's gone.

Fucking run.



'Cause you don't want to be the dude

standing on the beach going,

"Hey, where'd all the water go?

Something's wrong. We need to figure this out.

We need to stick around here,

figure out where all the water went.

Hey, is that a starfish?

Oh, shit."


You know, now you want us to text you.

Kinda fucked, aren't we?

You know, 'cause there's no sarcasm font.

That's a problem.

I'm trying to be funny

and T-Mobile makes me look like a dickhead, you know?

I'm like, "No, I meant your sister was a whore,"

like "Wocka wocka wocka."


All right.


Nothin'? All right.


Are you guys drinking?


Fuck yeah!

It's Saturday.

We're in a mall.

Fuck it, right?


Let's get shitfaced and go break into Black House |White Market.


I don't know what I would get from there.

Maybe some gifts.

Well, drink up.

Drive home real fast.

It'll be sweet.

See if the Lord loves you.


That's funny, right?

Do y'all go to church?

Some of you?

Some of you are like, "Fuck you, dude.

Trying to have fun here, okay?"


"There's no g-o-d in f-u-n, you know what I'm saying?"


I'm not saying that, but grammatically,

that's correct, you know what I'm saying?

Grammatically means "Words."


Basically what I'm saying is,

there's not a G or an O or a D

in the word "fun."


I was raised Catholic.

Any Catholics here?



Surprised that many of them clapped.

Usually they don't want to put their beers down.


Is it all right if I set this here?

Go right ahead.


Don't spit in it or nothing.

Catholicism's great, especially if you do drink,

'cause we have noon masses.

Yeah, that's the latest in the industry.

Some churches have a five o'clock

'cause they have like a cokehead contingency

or something.

I don't know, but it's like...


'Cause Catholics like to drink, we love it.

That's why Catholic masses are so boring.

A lot of people think we lack soul.

That's incorrect.

We're just fucking hung over.


'Cause you go to a lot of churches,

they're having a blast, man!

They're like, "Yay, Jesus!"

"Whee dee dee dee dee."

Catholics, we're like, "Cut that shit off.

Just shut up, okay?

I got a headache.

Let's just sit here and let this dude talk, okay?"


It's not even the priest.

Priest doesn't do shit for the first 20 minutes.

He's as hung over as anybody else there.


If you've never been to a Catholic mass,

it's about an hour long.

Sometimes you can get out in 45.

There's this variable in the middle called the homily,

where the priest can just talk

about whatever he feels is relevant.

And sometimes, he's really succinct, he gets to the point,

and gets out and you're out of there in 45.

Other days, he goes fucking Allman Brothers on it,

you know what I'm saying?

It takes him 20 minutes to bring it back to whipping post.


First half an hour of any Catholic mass

is like anybody else's church,

where they talk to you, they sing to you, you know?

Touching yourself

Jesus doesn't love you when you're touching yourself

Right? I'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist of it...


the second half an hour is like a cooking show for Jesus,

'cause they take crackers and turn them

into the body of Christ.

Then they take a four-dollar bottle of wine

and turn it into the blood of Christ.

It's super cool the first couple times,

but two or three years into it, you're kinda like,

"Hey Padre,

what else can you make," you know?

"Is there lasagna or something,

'cause I love a cheesy Jesus."


"He'd be delicious."


I quit going to church, and it's not 'cause I got lazy.

It's 'cause one week I showed up,

and no one at my church would drink the wine

'cause the flu was going around.

Where's the faith, you know?

If I had the flu, I would be bogarting the blood of Christ.

You know, I would be like, "Fuck you, bitches,

I got the flu!

Glug, glug, glug, glug."

It's the blood of Christ.

According to all your stories,

it saved us from sin.

I think it's gonna do something for my sniffles.


I'm just saying, if you're gonna go to a building

every Saturday or Sunday or Wednesday,

or whenever the hell you go,

you should believe what these people are telling you.

Otherwise, what are you doing?

Missing kickoff, basically.


And I don't care what religion you are, I don't care.

Just believe whatever you want to believe.

We're all wrong.


That's okay, religions aren't there to be correct.

They're there to be there.

They're there to give you something to believe in.

So believe in it.

That's why of all the religions,

the people I respect the most

are the people down in Texas

that dance around with rattlesnakes on their heads.

Those people are fucking crazy!

But they believe.

You got to.

You got a fucking rattlesnake on your head,

dancing around with it, asking it questions.

"Lord Jesus, should I buy a Honda?

No, no, I shouldn't.

Oh, shit.



Zeke, come here.



Go tell everybody Jesus said, 'Buy American.'

That's what he said."


"Don't let my death be in vain, Zeke."


God, I kind of hope that the rattlesnake people

aren't right,

'cause that means there's rattlesnakes in Heaven.

If there are snakes in Heaven, you know what's in Hell.



Two Ls in "Hell."

Two Ls in "llama."


I smoke pot, I do.


I do it a lot.

That's what I was doing when I wrote the llama joke.

I thought it was brilliant.

I was like, "Who does a two L joke?

Fucking nobody."


"I'm Lewis and Clark in this bitch."


They were pioneers.


Pot's my favorite drug.

It's the only drug I do

besides Xanax and mushrooms.

I love Xanax, man.

That shit's like the reset button.

It is-- if you're having a shitty day, take a Xanax.

Next thing you know, it's tomorrow.


What the hell happened yesterday?

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

It was shitty to a point,

and then apparently I went to Taco Bell.


By the way, don't get stoned and eat a Xanax.

Holy shit.

That's an $18 run for the border...


...'cause you're a little too fucked up for choices.

You just kind of pull up to the drive thru,

"I'll take the left side,

no tomatoes, thank you!"


"We will sort it out at the house."


"I need to get this vehicle off the road, ASAP."


Oh, cool. I've been dating again,

and, uh, I got this thing.

I've been getting them and then I put a stop to them.

I don't--if you start doing it, I tell you, "No."

And I'm here to put a stop to 'em publicly,

and they're called handjobs.



Ladies, we don't need 'em.

We don't need 'em-- I don't need 'em.

I don't want to speak for everybody.

Maybe you're into it.

I am not, okay? I don't--

Ladies, if we hook up later, and you were gonna do that,

rub my back, you know?

Give me a back rub, 'cause I can't reach my back.



I can do that,

a lot better than you can, I might add, ladies.

Holy shit, fellas. You ever gotten a handjob?

There's 15 minutes you'll never get back.


Just laying there, staring at each other.


"What's that, baby? What's that?

No, no, it doesn't usually take this long.

No, it doesn't.

You look tired, you look tired."


I'm just saying, ladies, if that's what you want to do,

you're just kind of doing some shit

that we haven't gotten to today.

If that's what you want to do, go iron my shirt.


I'm not trying to be mean. I'm not trying to be sexist.

I'd go iron my shirt while you were doing this, but I can't.

I gotta be here for this.

So let me do this, you go do--

Let's be productive, is what I'm saying.


That's a weird joke,

'cause not everyone can laugh at it.

And the people, the groups that can't are very divided.

Like the younger kids can't laugh at it

'cause they'd settle for that.


They'd be like, "Yeah, if she's touching it,

I'm not complaining, no."

And older dudes are the same way.

They're like, "Hey, she hasn't seen it in three months.

If she would just touch it, it'll probably go off."


"Really, she doesn't even need to put a full wrap around it."


Are you ladies hearing this shit?

It's fucking hysterical,

and you're just staring at me.

And you're the only one,

so I'm starting to think it's you guys.


Did something happen today?

Did your dog die?

You got to take a poop?


That happens to me sometimes.

Has that ever hap-- like, you had to poop,

but you had shit to do,

so you held it 'cause you're an adult?


And then you pooped, and then you were like,

"Fuck, I've been a dick for the last hour."


You gotta call people, "Sorry, sorry,

yeah, I had to poop, and I didn't know it."


I totally forgot about the fact that I had to poop.


Well, I'm gonna get outta here.

We're gonna go get stoned

and listen to the Black Crowes,

'cause they're my most favorite band in the world.

I don't know if you've heard of them?



I just went and saw them again.

That's like 17 times in the last two years,

which kinda makes me a dork,

but fuck you, okay?

I lead the life.

Anyway, they were broken up for two years,

so I didn't really get to see them,

so I try to get to see them whenever I can, and--

'cause for the two years they were broken up,

the only way we could watch them

was to watch their "Behind the Music,"

which I have on tape.

One weekend, me and my buddies got really fucking shitfaced,

like strip club shitfaced.

You know that? When it finally sounds like a good idea?

That's when you've had too much.

It's like, "Strip club?

Fuck yeah!

Let's go!"

"Give me your keys."


'Cause sober, I'm like, "Strip club?

No, fuck that.

Let's go to the casino.

We might get it back."


"I might get to fuck the dealer."


"I'll bet she doesn't have a coke problem, either."

You can laugh, they're not here.

This is their money night.

They're making money.


So one night, we got really fucked up

and couldn't find the remote,

so we had to watch the commercials.

It's an older tape.

It's got older commercials.

It's got that old OB commercial on there,

that one with the lady,

she walks out of the laboratory

and up to the camera. She's like,

"Did you know that the first tampon

was developed by a man?"


What the hell is she asking me for?

Why would I know?

I don't know.


You know, probably the first guy

tired of waking up in the middle of a crime scene.





Don't look at me like you don't know

what the hell I'm talking about.

Yeah, you call it "spotting," yeah.

I got news for you, ladies.

That's fucking leaking, okay?


Spotting's what you do with a UFO.


That makes me the spotter.

I'm the one waking up in the middle of the night.

I don't know what the hell's going on.

I wake up, I look over,

I'm like, "Oh, my god, you've been shot!"


"Why'd they shoot you there of all places?"


"Were they mad at me?

'Cause that was my favorite place."


"Why wouldn't they shoot you in the mouth or something?"



No, for efficiency!

That's all.

If you're a hitman, your target's asleep,

you don't go shooting her in the vag.

That's mean,

and unprofessional!

That is bad hitman etiquette.


You guys are cool, man.

I did that joke last week,

this chick got pissed.

She was angry.

Stood up, started yelling shit out at me.

"Why would you shoot her in the mouth?"

"I don't know."


"Maybe 'cause questions answer themselves, right?"


Which I thought that was funny,

but she was drunk and didn't get it.

She kept coming at me.

"You don't go shooting her in the mouth.

Mouth can be just as good as a vagina."



I mean, I've had some great blowjobs,

but I have yet to walk by an open vagina

I wished would shut the fuck up!


Kansas City, you guys have been a lot of fun, man.

Thank you so much for showing up.



The Description of Chris Porter: Screaming From the Cosmos