[Introduction]
From the historic Lincoln Theatre in Washington, D.C.: Dave Chappelle
[Act]
Thank ya
Thank ya, thank ya
Oh yeah, oh yeah
All right, no, really.
Boy, y'all make it good to come home, boy, I swear.
I know, man. It's been awhile, it's been awhile.
D.C.'s different. I mean, God, man, took me years to be able to do this show, boy. D.C. has changed! It's different now.
There's a lot of White people walking around...
I mean, I left D.C. in the 80's. It was not like this in the '80s. When crack was going on... Remember when crack was going on? White people would be looking from Virginia with binoculars and shit.
"Well that looks dangerous. Not yet."
New White people: You can't scare these White people. I tried. You roll up on 'em: "Boo!"
"The hell is wrong with you?" "Those days are over."
I'm glad that, you know, like, we're doing a show here by Howard, you know. And you see, like, white people come out, and that's good. One thing I'm seeing-- you'll be walking down the street and you'll see, like, a group of Black dudes walking. Not just any old Black dudes. We're talking, you know... "thugs". We're talking, you know, there'd be some thugs. In the group, they got like, one or two-- sometimes as many as three white guys that be with them. You ever see that shit? Let me tell you something about those white guys: those White guys are some of the most dangerous motherfuckers in them groups.
No, it's true. It's true, man. Ain't no telling what they've done to get them black dudes' respect. But them Black dudes have seen them do some wild shit. I'll tell you that. I've been trying to tell brothers that. Every group of brothers should have at least one white guy-- I'm serious--for safety. Cause when the shit goes down, somebody's gonna need to talk to the police.
I mean, that's when-- that's when that white friend comes in handy.
"Uh-oh. Ernie? Wanna get this one? Come on now. come on now. Do something."
See, Black people are very afraid of the police. That is a big part of our culture. Don't matter how rich you are, how old you are... We're just afraid of 'em. We got--we got every reason to be afraid of 'em. You know what I mean? You a White lady. You ever been pulled over before? You know, and what do they say?
"Let me see your driver's license and your registration," right? See? See, I'm just guessing. That's not what they say to us. You wouldn't believe what they say to us, either.
"Spread open your cheeks and lift your sack." Like what the fuck?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Spread open your cheeks and lift your sack."
I got a driver's license, too. There's easier ways to prove who I am and shit. What does that prove? I can't go to the bank like that; cash my check.
"What do you mean you don't have ID?"
"Wait a minute!"
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Chappelle. Right this way.
Why didn't you spread your cheeks in the beginning?"
Scared of 'em. I'm serious, man. You'll be at a red light, the police might pull up next to you. It on't be no big deal for you, but, you know, I'd fucking fall apart, though.
"Oh! Oh, nigga!
Oh, don't look over there. Unh-unh-unh."
But I didn't always know that was a Black thing. It took me a while to figure that out. I learned--I learned that shit in New York. I was in New York City. Now I was hanging out with a friend of mine. He's a White guy, you know. We were just hanging out, and we were lost in the city. You know, we were smoking a joint. Now, I don't know if it was a coincidence that we were lost and high and shit, but... My White buddy-- he was smoking a joint.
"Dave, Dave. It's the goddamn cops.
I'm gonna ask him for directions."
I said, "Chip, no! Chip! Don't do it!"
It was too late. He was walking over there. This man was high as shit.
"Excuse me, sir." Touching him and shit.
"Excuse me!
I need some information."
Uh..." Start confessing things he shouldn't confess.
"I'm a little high. All I wanna know: which way is Third Street."
The cop was like, "Hey! TAKE IT EASY...
You're on Third Street.
You better be careful. Go ahead. move it.
MOVE IT!"
That's all that happened. That's the end of the story.
Now I know that's not amazing to some of you, but you ask one of these Black fellas, that shit is fucking incredible, isn't it?
I'm saying a Black man would never dream of talking to the police high. That's a waste of weed. I'm serious.
I mean I'd be scared to talking to the police when I'm sleepy. They'd fuck around and get the wrong idea.
(Thump)
"That nigger was on PCP, Johnson. I had to use necessary force! You saw him.
No, no, no paperwork, just... just sprinkle some crack on him. Let's get out of here."
That's how it is. But at the time, I didn't think there was anything racial about it. I was like, "Man, Chip. You got fucking lucky. You better be careful."
But then another time me and Chip were driving. Now I'm not driving. Chip is driving, and he's driving a little crazy. He's been drinking. Now I don't like to let my friends drive drunk, but, you know... I was smoking a joint. I could really say shit to the guy.
Then we get at a red light. We stopped at a red light, and a car pulls up next to us, and I'll never forget it. Chip looks at me, he's all drunk and he's like:
"Dave... I'm gonna race him."
I knew it was a bad idea. But I was high. I tried to explain to him it was a bad idea, but all that came out was:
"Well, nigga sometimes you gotta race. I don't know.
Man. That light turned green, and Chip took off. ig-zagging and shit so no one could pass him, the other car didn't know he was racing.
Then the police seen us and pulled us over. Now you gotta understand, I'm scared as shit. I mean, come on: the car smells like weed, we've been speeding, this man is fucking drunk.
I'm scared. Chip was not scared at all. It was weird. He didn't even turn his radio down. Isn't that weird a little bit?
I mean, if you get pulled over, wouldn't you turn your radio down? Nobody wants to get their ass beat to a soundtrack and shit. You know what I'm saying?
Chip had the music blasting: "We're not gonna take it."
Look over at him, he says:
"Dave, just relax. Close your buttcheeks! Just relax.
Let me do the talking."
You wanna know what he said? This was almost exactly what he said. I couldn't believe it. He says:
"Oh, oh. Sorry officer. I...
I didn't know I couldn't do that."
I was fucking shocked! The cop said, "Well now you know!
Just get outta here. Just get the fuck outta here!
Chip said, "Okay, I will, sir. Thank you.
What? What's wrong with you, Dave?"
"I didn't know I couldn't do that."
He said, "That was good, wasn't it?
Because I *did* know I couldn't do that."
I was shocked. I wasn't shocked at the audacity. I was just shocked because I would have never thought to say that. I don't think any Black dude would think to say that. Because, they know we know the law. Every black dude in this room is a qualified paralegal and shit. He knows the law. If one of us even started to do something wrong, an old Black man would pop out of nowhere:
"Nigga, don't do that. That's five to ten.
Watch out."
We know the laws and the penalties. Chip didn't even know he could race.
I'm not saying I don't like police. I'm not saying that. I'm saying I'm just scared of 'em. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, we wanna call 'em, too. Somebody broke into my house once. This is a good time to call 'em, but I didn't. Mmm. Mm-mm. House is too nice. It ain't a real nice house, but they'll never believe I live in it.
They'll be--
"He's still here.
Oh my God.
Open and shut case, Johnson. I saw this once before when I was a rookie. Apparently this nigger broke in and hung up pictures of his family everywhere.
Well, let's sprinkle some crack on him and get outta here."
? say, "That's that whole brutality thing." See, that's common knowledge then. See there was a time when only minorities really knew about that. I'm not gonna say white people didn't believe us, but you were a little skeptical. You were a little skeptical. I mean, I don't blame you. And then "Newsweek" printed it, and he knew it was true.
In the "Newsweek," White people are like:
"Oh my God.
Honey, did you see this?
Apparently, the police have been beating up Negros like hotcakes.
It's in the main issue."
I mean, really, how could you know, though? How could anyone else know?
You know, I mean, maybe you should've seen something a little suspicious. Don't you think it was, like, a little suspicious? A little suspicious, that every dead black person the police finds has crack sprinkled on them? I mean, come on now.
Come on, man. Who gets shot and sprinkles crack on themselves? Nobody would do that.
Bam! "Oh! oh!
I don't wanna leave no mysteries."
I'm a paranoid guy, you know, that's how I am.
I am. I'm scared to call 9-1-1 for anything. Even if it's like a fire or anything. Cause they take those phone calls. I see the shows. They tape 'em. Then they play them on television. That's fucked up.
Now I'll say anything if I'm scared. That shit is private. You know what I mean?
What if I get killed? They start playing that 9-1-1 tape on the news, I'm dead, I can't explain myself to my buddies and shit.
You'll be watching the news.
"We have Reggie Chapman on the scene.
Reg...
What's going on out there?"
It always takes the guy on the scene a minute.
"Hi, Bob.
Hi. yes. We just got hold of a copy of Dave Chappelle's frantic 9-1-1 emergency call.
Remember, viewers, some of this language is disturbing."
"Hello. Emergency?"
"Help!
Help, motherfucker! They're coming to get me!"
"Just calm down, sir. Where are ya?"
"Oh, oh, I shit on myself.
I can't stop cryin'."
They play that shit 30, 40 times a day.
All my buddies will be at my funeral looking at me...
"You know Dave shit on himself, right?"
"I saw it on the news. Dude cried like a bitch"
I'll be dead, I can't defend myself. That's not a nice thing to do. That's not a nice thing to do. I mean, it's a 9-1-1 tape. How do they expect you to sound? Of course you gon' be scared. It's an emergency. There's, nobody calls 9-1-1 cool and relaxed. Now that shit would sound ridiculous, wouldn't it?
"Hello, emergency."
"Hi!"
Hey, 9-1-1. how are ya?
Yeah, uh, look, there's a group of hooded white men gathering outside of my house
And it looks like they mean business.
"GET OUT HERE NIGGER!"
"I gotta go.
You guys try and hurry."
Too much pressure. That's my problem: I can't-- I can't handle pressure. Sometimes pressure makes me talk different. I'm serious. Have you ever had that social pressure... have you ever talk to someone who's fake and they make you fake? Like, that guy would be like:
"Hey, how ya doin'?"
And you're like:
"Fine, how are you?"
And you're like... I don't even talk like that.
I get sick of that shit. I do it and it just makes me sick. Sometimes I'll talk crazy just to make myself feel better. Do y'all do that? You start talking like crazy.
You ever hear this voice? "MAH."
That's how bad guys used to talk in the 40's, in the old days. See, I used-- I talk like that. Not all the time, but if somebody put the pressure on me, fuck it. I gotta... I gotta cut loose. When the police pull me over I'll talk like crazy.
"Son? Son. Do you know *why* we pulled you over?"
"Nyah. Cause I'm Black, see! That's right. MAAAH!"
I do it.
It's not illegal to talk like that. How do they know I don't talk like that every day?
"Stop talking like that."
"Stop talking like what, copper? Mah.
That's how I talk, see."
You gotta make life interesting like that cause the shit is flimsy. Life is flimsy. You-- you think you're gonna live, but ain't nobody gon' live forever. It's dangerous out here. We know what's going on.
I travel now, you know. I used to think that D.C. had the roughest ghettos in the country. Nah, nigga. Mm-mmm. I have seen some shit now. Oh, there's some rough, rough areas outside of D.C.
Yeah, everybody should go to the ghetto. I was taken to the ghetto one time. That's the worst: when you get taken and you're not expecting to go. You know, usually you wanna know when you're going to the ghetto, like, "I'm gonna see some wild shit. I gotta prepare myself. I'm gonna see somethin' crazy." When you're taken, it's different.
I had a limousine driver-- it was after a show, it was late at night, it was like 3:00 in the morning. I had a limousine driver, he was a nice guy, talking to me and shit.
"Oh, hey, where you from, dawg?
D.C.? Word?
That's a rough city, mang."
Then his cell phone started ringing.
"Hold on one second.
Hello?
Oh, what's up, nigga?
What? What the fuck?
Slow down. what?
What the FUCK?!
No!
No!
Noooo!
Fuck that!
Nigga, FUCK THAT!
I'm on my way!
Hey. I gotta make a *stop* real quick."
At 3:00 in the morning-- I didn't know he was taking me to the ghetto at first. I started looking out the window, I was like, "What the fuck? There was a gun store, gun store, liquor store, gun store. "Where the fuck you takin' me?!
This don't look good."
He didn't say shit. He just pulled up in front of an old, rickety building that looked like a project. Now, I never been there before, I'm not sure if it was a project, but it certainly had all the familiar symptoms of a project. A fucking crackhead ran this way. And then another one jumped out a tree and shit. The driver said, "I'll be right back," and left me. Took the keys with him, he just left me. At 3:00 in the morning, in front of a project, in a fucking limousine.
This was not good. I was like, "Man, I gotta look around and see if I can see some landmarks and figure out where I'm at. I have to escape on foot.
Now this is when I knew I was in a bad neighborhood-- you only see this in the worst neighborhoods. Remember, it's 3:00 in the morning. It's 3:00 in the morning. I look out the window...
There was a fucking baby standing on a corner. For real.
And the baby--the baby didn't even look scared. It was just standing there.
I mean, it made me sad. It made me sad, really, cause--. You know what I mean? Cause I wanted to help the baby. I was like, "Mm-mmm, I don't trust you either. I'm sorry."
(Click. Cllllick!)
The old baby on the corner trick, eh?
Not gonna fall for that shit.
So where's this limousine driver? You know, I start feeling bad. As time goes by, I start feeling worse. Like, "Man, what is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong-- I am scared of a baby. You know, this baby could be in trouble. He might need my help. I gotta do something.
But I wasn't gonna get out the car.
I'm serious, man. I just cracked the window a little bit.
It was an old limousine. I could roll it down and shit.
"Hey, baby! Baby, go home, man. It's 3:00 in the morning. What the FUCK are you doing up?!
The baby said, "I'm selling weed, nigga!" I said, "Ohhh shit."
I wasn't expecting that.
I'm serious. I had to buy two bags from him to calm my nerves.
"Let me get two. Let me get two times."
Got back in the car and rolled me a joint. That shit was scary, man. Every once in a while, like, a crackhead would come up to the car, and look in the window. It was like Jurassic Park and shit. He'd be looking around the car--
"All right. Get outta here, cracky."
That baby was still standing there, man. I was like, "What the--"
Then I started feeling bad again. You know how weed make you feel guilty sometimes. You be like--
"Man, what is wrong with me, man? I have just bought weed from an *infant*.
I can't condone this kind of behavior. What am I thinking? I can't let the fear ruin my morals.
Gotta do something."
(Rolls down window)
"Hey baby.
Stop selling weed. You got your whole life ahead of you."
He said, "FUCK you, nigga! I got kids to feed."
I was like, "God... DAMN."
Sad.
Now just at that very moment, one of the crackheads was running across the street and got hit by a car. Now I know it was a hit-and-run: the police did it.
That's all right. They sprinkled some crack on him and he got back up.
? that kind of shit, man? It's-- what it is-- they use the TV to program us, from a young age. You ever watch, like, a cartoon that you used to watch when you were little as an adult? That shit is-- is wild shit..
Some wild shit. I mean, I was with my nephew. We're sitting there, we're watching Pepé Le Pew. And I say to my nephew, I said, "Now pay attention to this guy, cause he's funny.
I used to watch him when *I* was little."
And we're watching Pepé Le Pew and I'm old now. And I'm like--
"Good God-- what kind of fucking rapist is this guy? Like take it easy, Pepé."
My nephew was sitting there cracking up: "Hehehe.
See? Sometimes you gotta *take* the pussy like Pepé."
You're like "No! Nooo!
Nooo!"
I had to turn the channel real quick. I turn on Sesame Street and I say (phew) "Sesame Street. This is much better cause now he'll learn how to count and spell."
But now I'm watching it as an adult and I realize Sesame Street teaches kids other things: it teaches kids how to judge people and label people. That's right.
They got a character on there named Oscar... and treat this guy like shit the entire show. They judge him right in his face.
"Oscar, you are so mean. Isn't he, kids?"
"Yeah, Oscar. You're a *grouch*."
He's like, "BITCH, I live in a FUCKING trash can!
I'm the poorest motherfucker on Sesame Street!
Nobody's helping me."
Then you wonder why the kids roll up and step over homeless people.
"Get it together, Grouch.
Get a job, Grouch."
So don't even tell me how to get to Sesame Street. It's a terrible place. I wouldn't go there if I knew the way. Who would wanna live in a neighborhood like that? Fucking six-foot pigeons walking around and... and elephant that's a junkie.
"HI, BIRD."
Yeah, that's right. Snuffy!
"HI, BIRD. I'm sick.
I need some smack, BIRD."
The Cookie Monster with his eyes popping out of his head, screaming:
"Cookie cookie cookie!"
You're like, "Ergh!
What kind of cookies are *you* talking about?
Chocolate chips don't do that to people."
And they had the nerve to put a pimp on there. They didn't come out and say he was a pimp, but I know a pimp when I see one. They-- they called him The Count.
Had a cape and everything.
You'd have seen him pimping.
"Bitch, where is my money?
You've been late four times. I've been counting.
How many times must I smack you before you act right?
(smack) One! (smack) Two!
TWO SMACKS! Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, ah, ahhhh..."
That's the thing. There's so many stuff-- there's just so much stuff to worry about. You know, the more you know, the more you don't know and shit. You know. Like a lot of people are telling me, "Dave, you know, you just gotta relax. That racism thing has been bugging you too much."
I'll be thinking about it. Sometimes shit will happen-- you know, a lot of Black people will relate to this. Have you ever had something happen that was so racist that you didn't even get mad?
It's like, "Goddamn. That was rac-- that was *racist*."
I mean it was so blatant, you were just like "Wow!"
Like you were almost like, it didn't even happen to you. It was like a fucking movie. That was-- like you were just watching Mississippi burning: "Wooow."
That happened to me. I was the end of Mississippi. I was in Mississippi doing a show, and I go to the restaurant to order some food. And, I say to the guy-- I say:
"I would like to have..." And before I even my sentence, he says:
"The CHICKEN."
I was like, "What the... *fuck*."
I could not believe it. I could not believe that shit.
This man was absolutely right. I said, "How did he know... that I was going to get some chicken?"
I asked him. I said, "How did you know that?
How did you know I was going to get some chicken?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, "Come on, buddy. COME ON, BUDDY.
Now everybody knew that as soon as you walked through the goddamn door... you were gonna get some chicken.
It ain't no secret down here that Blacks and chickens are quite fond of one another."
And then I finally understood what he was saying, and I got upset.
I wasn't even mad. I was just upset. I wasn't ready to hear that shit.
All these years, I thought I liked chicken because it was delicious. Turns out I'm genetically predisposed to liking chicken.
That shit is whack.
I got no say in the matter. That guy ruined chicken for me. I'm scared to eat it in public. I don't-- I don't want someone to see me and say something. You know what I mean? You'll be eating some chicken:
(CRUNCH) (crunch) (crunch-crunch)
"Look at him.
He *loves* it.
Just like it said in the encyclopedia.
Look how happy he looks."
(CRUNCH) (crunch)
Sometimes, that's gonna be too much to deal with. That show business be crazy. That's where the cultures really collide. Show business bring a lot of races together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't. This is one thing that happens that's funny. You sometimes I'll be on a business call, right? You know, like, with-- with a lawyer or something. You know, my lawyers be White. And uh...
So like, we'll be on a call, right? And they'll be like:
"Dave, we're gonna close the deal. Is that fine with you?
I'll be, like, "Yeah, that's good for me."
"Great! Great. You have a good weekend, Dave."
I'll be like, "A'ight. You too, man. Peace."
"Uh... all right now. Bye-bye."
They don't know what to say, right?
So sometimes I'll make up shit that's not even slang, just to see how they handle it and shit. It'll be the same thing, they just go:
"All right, we're gonna close the deal. Is that fine with you, Dave?"
"Yeah, it sounds good to me."
"Great. You have a good weekend, Dave."
"All right, buddy. Zip it up, and zip it out."
He'll be like...
"Uh... All right. Zippity-doo-dah, bye-BYE."
Sometimes, you know, sometimes racism works out in Black people's favor. It doesn't happen often. It happens very rarely. But... when it happens, it is fucking *sweet*.
I'm serious.
One time, racism saved my life, man. I was-- I was on a plane. I was c-- I was coming from overseas. And... I don't know how this guy got a machine gun on the plane, but he stood up, man. He said:
"Everybody! Get on the fucking ground. NOBODY LOOK AT MY FACE!"
I started freaking out.
Cause he was Chinese. I was like, "Why is he talking like that?"
He was screaming and crying.
I was the only brother on the plane-- Well, I thought I was the only brother. I looked over, there was one other Black dude. He was from Nigeria. I looked over at him, he was looking right at my face, man. He didn't say two words, he was like:
(exhalation; gives thumbs up)
He didn't need to talk. I knew just what he was talking about. I looked right back at him. I was like (gives thumbs up)
Some White dudes on the front of the plane seen us. They were like:
(gasp) "Oh my God.
I think those Black guys are gonna try to save us."
Mm-MMMM.
We were just communicating that we understood the situation. We were both seeing the same thing. What we understood was simple.
Terrorists don't take Black hostages.
That's the truth. I have yet to see one of us on the news reading the hostage letters.
"Mm. They is treating us good.
Uh, we all chillin' and shit.
I'd like to give a shout out to Ray-Ray and Big Steve in... ? Newport."
You're not gonna see it. Terrorists are smart. They know what they're doing. They're, you know... They're terrorists. They know that Black people is bad bargaining chips.
They call the White House, they say:
"Hello. We have got five Black--
Hello?"
I be back in D.C. You know what-- You know what I was thinking, man? This-- This is an election year. I'mma ask you, you a White guy, do you know who you're voting for yet?
Don't know, do you?
Now you see that? You see what just happened here? Let me tell you something, that is a cultural thing.
He knows who he's gonna vote for, he's just not gonna tell me. See? I've noticed that. That is a cultural thing. White people do not like to talk about their political affiliations. It's a secret.
You ever ask a white guy who he's voting for?
"Hey, Bob. Uh, Bob. Who you gonna vote for?"
"Dave, Dave! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Mmmm... Take it easy now. Take it easy.
So anyway, um... I was fucking my wife in her ass, right? And--and... I mean, it was something else."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, but-- but who are you voting for?"
"Dave! Dave, come on with the voting.
I'm trying to tell you about how I fucking my wife, and you're asking me all these personal questions."
They don't like to divulge that information... cause it matters to them. Black people talk about that shit. Black people will openly talk about politics. Black people will openly talk about *beating up* politicians and shit.
"If I see George Bush, I'll kick his motherfucking ass for cutting my Medicaid."
They don't care. They'll just say it.
Black people will just say it.
But there's a reason for that. Because it matters more for th--. It matters more. Black people, see-- see, even when I vote, right, which I don't, but-- but even when I, like, think about, like, who I would vote for, right? I don't even look at their political policies. I just look at their character.
You know what I'm saying now? You gotta-- no, I'm serious. You gotta read between the lines.
Like, you know, you look at Clinton, and Black people like Clinton. We've seen him on the ca-- I saw one thing on the campaign trail, he actually just picked a Black baby up and kissed him--
"Come here, little nigger baby." Mwah!
Just kissing him.
I said, "Mmmm-hmmm! I like that.
He did not hesitate or nothing.
You see George Bush Jr. He'd be like:
(kiss) "Ew."
That was fun.
Like, see, I'd never vote for George Bush Jr., but I don't know George Bush Jr.'s politics. The only thing I know about is that that guy sniffed cocaine. That's right.
Now listen, we cannot have that shit in the White House. That might be fine for a mayor, but goddamn it, not in the White House.
Not in the White House.
Mmm-mmmm.
You hear what I'm saying?
The stakes are too high in the White House. Can't have no cokehead president, mm-mmm.
He'd be selling nuclear secrets for 20, 30 dollars and shit.
He'd be at meetings, embarrassing America.
"Come on. Sign the treaty, baby.
I'll suck your dick."
Like what the--?
"Mr. president!
Mr. President, that is not how we do business here, sir.
Stop sucking the ambassador's dick."
"No, let him finish.
I will sign the treaty.
There will be peace in Israel, finally."
I'd vote for Clinton again if I could. At least-- It's always better--
Now again, I'm not looking at his politics. Don't know what his politics are. I'm just looking at his behavior.
I understand that kind of behavior. I know a lot of dudes with them shortcomings.
Weed smoking fornicators, there's a lot of them.
I mean, come on now. Let's-- let's be honest. Let's be honest. Bill clinton was not the first president to do what he did. Now let's just--let's just-- let's think back for a minute. Bill Clinton was *not* the first president to do what he did. Now, now, let's just-- let's just--
Let's think back for a minute. Remember a guy named-- named Kennedy? John F. Kennedy. Remember him? He fucked Marilyn Monroe.
Matter of fact, him and his brother Bobby fucked Marilyn Monroe.
And history doesn't talk about that much. You know why history doesn't talk about that much? Because those two pages in history are stuck together. They're--
They was gettin' it on.
They were gettin' it on.
I seen the tapes. Remember the tapes?
She be singing all nasty as his party, stressin' him out and shit.
"Hap-py birth-day
Mis-ter Pre-si-dent."
"Bitch, my family's here. Mm-mmm."
Clinton did the same thing, but he didn't do it like that. Because it's the year 2000. He's busier than Kennedy was. He was a busy man. Clinton did that kind of thing the way busy men do it. You know what busy men do?
They fuck who's close to them.
I could tell that was what Clinton was up to.
Looked like he just stuck his head out the office door and shit.
"Ehh, oh boy!
You! you, come here.
Come here.
I need my penis sucked before my 3:30. Come on.
Oh, boy."
He was probably looking at Kennedy's picture and shit
"Oh." (salute)
And then to top it off, he lied, which I thought was just-- I thought that was special.
I did, man. I know how he did.
I've been accused of having sex with a girl I did not have sex with before, and let me tell you something, that shit is infuriating.
You ever go through that? You know, it'll make you crazy. You'll be screaming at your best friends.
"I didn't touch that bitch! Nigga, I'll kill you!
Fuck you, nigga! I'll kill you!
Please believe me.
PLEASE BELIEVE ME!
But Clinton didn't do it like that, did he? Clinton came out at the press conference all relaxed. His shoulder's all relaxed, looked like he just got done fucking or some shit.
(sigh)
"Listen. Let me tell you something, America.
I don't think you heard me the first time.
I did not... have... sexual... relations... with that woman!
(sniffs finger)
Miss Lewinsky!
You know he did it.
Everybody knew what that finger smelled like. Nobody cared. Nobody cared. We all watched. We was disgusted, but we kept watching the news. I know I did. I was taping it. See, I'd be at the crib like:
"Baby, turn the lights off. News is coming on."
Every week on "60 minutes," it was a different girl accusing Clinton.
Remember when Kathleen Willey came out? She was upset.
"The president called me into his office. He... began...
Massaging my breast... slowly.
I'm sorry.
And then he placed, my hand...
On his genitals.
Ed Bradley was shocked.
(Gasps) "Was he aroused?"
I was at home like, "Yeaaah, was he aroused?"
And then Ed Bradley looked right in the camera, he said
"Don't bust that nut yet. We'll be right back.
Oh, man. The news had never been so good. But there were no victims. There were no victims. Only one I feel sorry for is that, uh, Lewinsky. I feel a little sorry for her. Don't y'all feel a little sorry for her at all?
(Audience: No!)
Goddamn, y'all, come on now. Have a heart. That's a hard thing to be famous for, you know.
Ain't nobody want to be the most famous cocksucker of all times and shit.
I feel bad for her. Not even the women feel sorry for her? A little bit, ladies?
(Women: No!)
Now that's jealousy. That's what that is.
I mean, come on, y'all. That's one dick that that girl sucked that's gonna haunt her for the rest of her life. Long after she's spent that money up, that's still gonna haunt her.
And I know there's a lot of women in here with at least one dick they regret.
And I bet you it wasn't a president's dick. I bet you he worked at Kinney shoes or Safeway or some shit like that.
Don't go judging her. Don't go judging her.
See, we gotta stop judging people. That girl was young, and she made a mistake that young girls make. She wanted to fuck a powerful man. Period. That's as far as she thought it through. She wasn't thinking about how powerful the president was. She had no wisdom.
An older woman would've helped everybody. An older woman would've been in there
"You know, um, you should lower taxes. (tsk tsk tsk tsk)
You know what I'm s--
An older woman would've sucked us into Utopia.
The last thing I'm gonna say about it is this, that: he is a famous man.
I have dreamt of being famous, but I never dreamt of being *that* famous. I never understood how famous a president was. But imagine if someone could suck your dick and then they're famous. You understand what I'm saying?
That's crazy.
That's *crazy*.
I mean, no guy ever thought of that. There's nobody with a pickup line that good and shit.
"Hey, suck my dick. There's a future in it."
"Oh, that's it.
Now get out there and be somebody!
Go write a book.
You're a qualified author now. Go write a book.
Shit, I'm in the wrong business. I should be the president. Shit, I'm in the wrong business.
See the only reason why I want to be the president is because I'm Black, that'd make it too hot for me. I mean you know-- I mean, there could be a Black president one day, but...
You don't wanna be the first one. I mean the second or third is fine, but...
That first nigga better watch out. I'mma tell you that right now.
Too hot.
I mean I'd be the first Black president. I don't think that nobody would really, *really* hurt me. I'm sure somebody'd want to hurt me. But I don't think they'd touch me. Cause uh...
Cause my vice president will be Mexican for a little insurance.
You know what I'm saying?
I mean, you could shoot me if you want, but you're just gonna open the border up.
You might as well leave me and Vice President Santiago to our own devices.
"Ain't that right, Santiago?"
"Si! Siii!"
"Elián can stay..."
Don't worry, don't worry. I ain't got no Elián jokes. All I'll say about Elián is thank God he's Cuban. Cause if he was Haitian, you would've never heard about his ass.
Mm-mmm.
If Elián Gonzalez was Elián Lemumbo from Haiti, they'd have pushed that rubber tube right back and say:
"Sorry, fella. All full. Good luck."
The only thing in our society that bothers me the most is the way that men and women don't get along no more. That's really what's bugging me about it. Men and women just don't get along. Like I hear women say this all the time. I know a lot of you sisters be like:
"Chivalry is dead."
Don't y'all feel that way? Like men aren't gentlemen anymore?
(Applause)
That's right: chivalry is dead.
And women killed it.
There's a fundamental difference in the way we're gonna see things. We're not gonna see eye to eye on this issue. We're just not. Our tests in life are different.
A woman's test in life is material. A man's test in life is a woman.
Now by test, I mean that those are the things that we desire. Men have nice cars-- not cause they like nice cars-- because they know women like nice cars.
That's how it goes. Cause men are hunters. And the car is the bait. And a woman comes up and says:
"Ooh, nice Porsche."
"Gotcha, bitch!"
That's how it is.
That's true. come on now. You go to a woman's house, her house will be comfortable as shit. Women love comfortable surroundings, so men get comfortable surroundings.
Let me tell you something: if a man could fuck a woman in a cardboard box, he wouldn't buy a house.
But that's still not where chivalry got killed. Chivalry got killed by the feminist movement on all them magazines that got women going crazy, because women got too much advice about men from other women. And they don't know what the fuck hey're talking about.
And it's true. I see the shit in the magazines. I don't read 'em, but I be seeing the cover. I look at-- you ever be in the grocery store, fellas, you look at one of them magazines like, "What is this?" And it say on the cover:
"A hundred ways to please your man" by... some lady.
Get outta here, man. come on.
Ain't no hundred ways. That list is four things long.
Just suck his dick, play with his balls, then fix him a sandwich and don't talk so much, and they're gon' be happy.
That's it.
And then the magazines trick the women. The magazines start picking at your self-esteem. Every page you turn, you start feeling fatter, and uglier, and you feel like your clothes aren't good enough.
And the magazines have you forgetting how fucking beautiful you are.
And that's what happens. Now look what happens.
And then you forget how beautiful you are, and we all suffer.
If pussy was a stock, it would be plummeting right now because you've flooded the market with it. You're giving it away too easy.
I'm just... being truthful.
I'm just talking.
It would plummet!
We'd be watching the news.
"Today, pussy plummeted again on the NASDAQ.
Gold is up ten points."
You can see it. You ever have this happen? This is how confusing it is. This is the practical application of what I'm talking about.
Like a guy will be out-- this happens a lot, guys-- you'll be at a club, a bar, right? You're just kicking it with your boys, and a girl walks by, and, man, she looks good. She looks good. Not good in that classical way.
I mean, you know, I'm talking good like, she got half her ass hanging out her skirt. Mm.
Her titties are all mashed together...
Popping out the top of her turtleneck and shit.
And you're with your buddies, right? You're with your buddies, you got a couple of drinks in you, and you see a girl, you might try to talk to her. It just might not come out right.
I don't know what you'd say to her:
"DAMN, look at them titties!"
The girl gets mad at you.
"Oh, uh-uhh. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute!
Just because I'm dressed this way, does NOT...
Make me a whore."
Which is true. Gentlemen, that is true. Just because they dress a certain way doesn't mean they *are* a certain way. Don't ever forget it.
But, ladies, you must understand that that is fucking confusing.
It just is.
Now that would be like me, Dave Chappelle the comedian, walking around the streets in a cop uniform.
Somebody might run up on me.
"Oh, thank God. Officer, help us. come on. They're over here. Help us!"
I'm not gonna be like:
"Oh! Just because I'm dressed this way does not make me a police officer."
You understand what I'm saying?
It's like, "All right, lady, fine, fine. You are not a whore.
But you *are* wearing a whore's uniform, I'll tell you that shit right now."
Little misunderstandings can happen. And then, man, we misunderstand women a lot. You know, we always undermine their feelings. You can't do that to them.
(Applause)
You can't because-- see, feelings are-- You see? They're clapping. Feelings are very important to women. They are all-important to women. I'm just learning this shit.
Everything is based on how they "feel".
You could hear it when they tell stories.
You ever tell-- when a man tells a story, it'd be just facts: who, what, when, where, why.
"It was me and Bob. We was at Safeway, then that nigga Bob said this. Then I punched that nigga, then I broke out." That's the story.
That's the story.
Women tell stories, and all these feelings come out--
"Well, first of all, you have to understand, I was on my period, and I had just talked to my mother, so I was feeling like--" Goddamn, so many feelings. What the fuck happened? Get to it. get to it.
But they gotta talk about 'em.
They gotta talk about 'em. That's how they always get me. I'll be sitting there, watching TV, chilling and shit. My old lady come up to me:
"David, we need to talk."
"FUCK!"
I don't say that out loud. That's how I feel inside. Because I know every time we need to talk, we need to talk about some shit that I gotta do. We don't ever have to talk about anything *she* needs to do.
She leaves me defenseless. I have to do what I have to do.
"David, we need to talk."
"Mah."
"Don't do that to me, David. This is serious. Stop talking in that voice."
"No, see!
I gotta do this, see!
Maaaah! Seeeee."
I complain, but I'm happy that I'm with somebody. I don't wanna be them-- I don't wanna be single. I don't like that.
Sometimes, you go to them single clubs, you see too much. See I was on the road, one club, and I seen-- I see a thing they call a "thong contest".
(Man: YES!)
Yeah, I've seen a thong contest.
(Man: SCANDALOUS)
Yeah, it's some scandalous shit, all right.
I couldn't get over that, man. Cause the DJ, you know, I was dancing with a girl, the DJ says:
"Everybody who wants to be in the thong contest, please report to the DJ booth."
Girls like, "Excuse *me*."
They put on that song, sounds-- "Let me see some THONG thong thong thong THONG thong thong." Them girls was going off!
Some of them pulling their pants down. Some of them pull their skirts up. All of them shaking their butts. Some of them didn't even have underwear on. They were just fucking shaking their butts.
I mean, really, I was fucking disgusted. But I couldn't turn away.
But no-- for the squeamish, please plug your ears.
All right. One of the girls gets so into it. There's no cops around, right? But she actually, I'm sorry to tell y'all this, she spreads her buttcheeks open. She spreads her buttcheeks open in the middle of a crowded disco. Right?
I was disgusted, cause I was like ten yards away from her and I was like, "Oh my, GOD.
Is that her-- is that her birth canal?"
Oh it gets worse.
I'm like, "Good God almighty, is that a-- is that a baby?!"
I know, that's gross. Cause it *was* a baby.
It was the same baby from the projects. He's like, "I snuck in the club, nigga!
I got that weed if you need me.
Just pat her on the ass and I'll come out.
All right, guys, thank you very much.
Thank you all.
Good night.
Good night, good night.
