ANC: It's Actually the Pilot
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
Interior.
Alien Night Club.
Day…
Night…
Who knows; we’re hurtling through space right now. We’re in a motherflippin alien night club. And they brought me in here to do stand-up. Not to stand up, although I am, but to do stand-up, meaning stand-up comedy.
Uh, newsflash, MFers — not you; them— I’m not a comedian. I think I’ve been on stage twice in my life. The first time, I hated it. The second time, I loved it. And one of them was me playing one of the Three Wise Men in a Christmas Play at our church when I was about eight. I’ll let you figure out which one was which.
Yeah, so, I guess that makes this the big premier! The first show. Alright, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you. I’m very happy to be here, thanks for having me. I promise I’ll do my very best to make sure we all have a good time. See, I just flew in from Earth and boy are my arms tired.
Wow, that is some strong silence. Like Chandler said, That joke would’ve killed in Albany.
See, that joke was funny in America in the ’50s because it was probably one of the first times audiences had heard a literal interpretation. I just flew in means I arrived on an airplane. But saying And boy are my arms tired means you literally flapped your arms and flew like a bird.
Whatever. Never mind.
So like I said I’m very happy to be here. This was all a very big surprise. It’s not every day you get abducted. This is my first time getting abducted. And so far, it’s nice.
I saw Travis Walton on Joe Rogan and Travis’s story was frickin nuts. And so far, I gotta say, my experience is pretty much the opposite of his.
For anyone not familiar, Travis Walton was a logger working out in the woods in Arizona back in 1975. He and his crew were driving on a small access road way out in the woods in the middle of the day when they saw a friggin flying saucer sitting there.
Imagine that. A big-ass silver disc-shaped thing.
Travis got out of the truck and went over to it.
And touched it.
And he apparently got electrocuted. He went flying about ten feet and landed on the ground and didn’t move.
His crew in their trucks freaked out and drove away. And then a few minutes later once they were out of danger, agreed to go back and get him.
However, when they go there, Travis was gone. The big-ass silver flying disc was gone.
About a week later, Travis showed up in town. With an incredible story. He eventually wrote a book about this story which was adapted to film and titled Fire in the Sky.
And the Fire in the Sky movie they made based on his story was freakin terrifying. It’ll make you afraid of aliens, that’s for sure. So maybe don’t watch it if you haven’t already. Unless you like being scared. Then have at it.
At any rate, Travis was on Joe Rogan and told him the whole story. It’s either positively revolutionary or a steaming — steaming — pile of crap.
If, however, we suspend our disbelief — even momentarily — and consider what Travis said, it’s bonkers. He said he woke up on an examination table surrounded by aliens who used their medical technology to save his life from whatever exactly happened when he touched their craft.
I guess they felt guilty. So they brought him on board and fixed him up.
Regardless, that didn’t happen to me. A dude in a similar craft called me on TV while I was at my dad’s house. I went outside, the craft was there, and I got on it. And here we are.
So.
Welcome to the show, I guess. The big show, I suppose.
Like Sheryl Crow says, apropos of nothing, have you ever done a mud run?
I haven’t. I’ve always wanted to.
Because it seems like, much of the time, success today is saying the right thing at the right time…and doing so in such a way that people really get it. They finally understand what everyone has been talking about all this time but for some reason they could never quite figure out what was the problem and who were the parties involved and who was right. 99%, we all know who is right but now the fight is on, money, big, BIG money is being spent to get the word out because the people spending that money have a worldview. And it’s a hum-dinger of a worldview. I mean, I get it completely. And I’m on board. Is on board hyphenated? Is it one word nowadays? So much stuff is getting changed and I never hear about it. Until after the fact. And I’m pretty well tuned in, I think. I dunno, actually, maybe I’m totally super not.
Anyway, back to the humdinger worldview…Where were we? Success. Success today is saying the right thing at the right time. Only this time, you’re one of the ones saying it. Because you believe it. And the reason you believe it is because you know it to be true.
You know it to be true.
That’s the key.
THAT is the secret.
Telling the truth. Because people know the truth when they see it or hear it or read it or get it on a podcast or in a DM or someplace kinda weird like in a magazine because who the heck reads paper magazine anymore? I don’t. Because I get everything online. Also, and this is a big part of it, I can’t bring myself to throw them away. I just can’t do it. All the magazines I used to buy were amazing. They were like books. Like picture books for adults. But with true, sometimes inspiring, but often horrific, stories.
Anyway, back to success.
It comes when you’re speaking the truth and people hear you. And suddenly it’s like you just became friends. You’ve identified one another and you know that person is, if not a friend, at least an ally. And if something went down in the parking lot, and you needed a ride, like right now because you were about to be jumped by a bunch of dudes who were going to kick your ass for sure, that person would say “Get in!” and they’d save your ass. And then if you had any sense, you should say thank you to them by giving up some ass, gas, or grass, because no one rides for free.
Wait, what did he say?
For the people who didn’t understand me, apologies, it’s probably me mumbling and slurring my words together because I have to even say this. It’s all so obvious. Why can’t you guys fix it, the ones of you already in the right positions to do it? That’s your thing, okay, awesome, do your best, we’re all counting on you. But no pressure. Okay, sweeties?
But here’s the thing, you’re fucking it up. This is stupid what we’re doing. Fighting over who gets which colored cupcake at the birthday party. That’s what we’re doing. We’re a bunch of perpetual manchildren and womenchildren and we’re all wrapped up in such cheesedick, nonexistent politics that we ourselves have conjured out of thin air and adorned ourselves with. And it’s not real. It’s just a bee ess story we’re telling ourselves. And then you get enough people together who believe it and you give them weapons and now you have ISIS. Or as President Barack Obama says, ISIL. And Mr, President, please tell me you bought that blue Vette you and Jerry rode in together. Or if not, Jerry, you’d better have that thing. Or the people who owned it at the time, and thought, Hell, yes, the President of the United States is going to be in this car. I’m rich!
What if we auctioned that car at a charity auction, Jerry and President Obama could host it and be in tuxedos and do comedy together. It would be epic. Because the two of them are both straight men. I don’t mean hetero or not gay. Okay? This is a different definition of straight man. It’s a theatrical stroke movie star stroke performer thing, like a character type that actors become known for. Like Clint Eastwood and Westerns and cowboys and tough guys. That’s who he is. Tom Cruise. Super crazy insane totally awesome what the eff is he going to do now amazing action guy. Funny, too; it’s just that he’s so intense that a lot of people don’t see it. But he’s a Crab so he’s super sensitive. That’s what makes him so good. I mean, hello; it’s obvious.
And for the ladies, who is a lady straight man? A straight – wait, straight man is one word: straightman. And straightwoman. Okay, so who is a female badass?
What’s her name from Avatar comes to mind. Amanda..something? But I don’t know that much about her. So I can’t say how much of her reputation is authentic.
And before you guys who are now all pissed off at me start telling everyone what a dick I am, please listen for a second: first of all, calm down.
Seriously.
Take a minute to get yourself back into a calm and happy place. If you need to think of the penguin in the cave or whatever like in Fight Club — crap, is that one word or two? — that’s fine. If you need to get high, that’s fine.
And if you don’t do that, that’s also fine.
But some good herb is magical, okay. And I know you hear that all the time and you’re sick of it. But have you stopped for a second and thought about why so many people have said that to you or near you? Whether it’s someone you know who says, “Hey, Jane or Karen, you seem stressed out. You know, I just saw an article again this morning — always say THIS morning when you’re telling someone about weed for the stress reduction strategy — citing a new study that was done at — insert prestigious institution name here; I like to go with Columbia, MIT or CalTech.
And by the way here’s a funny anecdote: People at CalTech have this joke or maybe it’s a tee shirt, I forget which, that says, “M.I.T.” That’s a super-prestigious school, by the way, for anyone not familiar with it. Super amazing, totally brilliant people doing all the best bonkers stuff you can imagine. So it’s super hard to get into. So many people would love to go there and MIT can only take a few hundred or thousand at a time. I dunno, I have no idea what their class sizes are like because I didn’t go there. I went to a small private school out west called University of the Pacific and it was awesome. Expensive as heck but damn I got a good education. My French class had three other people in it. It was me and two American girls and a guy from Germany.
That’s a great title: Two American Girls and a Guy from Germany. Somebody take that and run with it and write a cool book with that title or a song or make a whole movie with that title and make a song to go with it and it’ll be awesome. Take that idea and run with it and I get three cents out of every dollar you ever make off it. Okay, three cents. That’s fair, right? Take it with my blessing and kindly share the money you make with me, just as a thank you for giving you the baton to run with.
Because imagine you’re on a mud run.
What is a mud run?
It’s like a 5k. A short marathon. Except that there’s a lot of climbing up, over, around, and under things. And there’s mud. Lots and lots of mud. Google it and you’ll see pics of smiling people covered in mud.
So you’re on a mud run and you get to that bastard of a water obstacle and you really don’t want to get into a giant pit of muddy water with dozens of exhausted, clearly somewhat insane people sloshing their way through it. But you do it anyway because apparently you’re insane, too.
So in you go and it’s cold as heck but you press on. And then you get to the other sidem, where there is this big ramp. A climbing wall thing, a big slanted piece of whatever the heck it is, and you have to somehow climb out of this pit of nasty water and climb over that em effer.
But here’s the thing: You can’t get out. It’s too high, too slippery, and no matter what you do, you can’t do it.
And the reason you can’t is because it was designed so you couldn’t.
It was designed so you can’t do it alone.
The only way you are getting out of that nasty water is if the person in front of you gets to the top, climbs mostly over so they are now safe, and then reaches back and stretches out their hand and you stretch out your hand and you take it. You accept their help. Because you need it. You’re effed without it. And because of that, the experience is extremely humbling. And you should try it.
Okay, so you decide to do the mud run. You prepare, you go to shops and you’re on Amazon and you’re all over the place trying to source all the hardcore gear you’re gonna need. And you’re talking to whomever the crazy person is that talked you into this. And you guys are going shopping together. And they’re explaining differences between running shoes and cross trainers and the tread on the bottom that you always thought was just for show. But no, how spiky and crazy the bottom of the shoe is has to do with how insane the weather is going to be when that shoe is on your foot and you’re out in that insane weather.
So you get your gear, you train for like five weeks, which ain’t long enough but it’ll do. It will allow you to get through it without collapsing because you have to puke. And you do all that, you eat different food for those five weeks and you quit drinking, mostly, and you’re getting up every morning to get that run in because that’s the main skillset required: running.
It is called a mud RUN for a reason.
And then the Saturday morning comes. The morning of the mud run. It’s here.
So you prepare and it’s your top focus and you rest on Friday and you eat really well and you stay home on a Friday night, – egads! In Baby Stewie’s voice – you actually get a really good night’s sleep and you wake up at 4:30 to be there to start at like 7 a.m. and it’s too early but you’re psyched because you spent the last five weeks training.
And it turns out to be everything you hoped it would be. It’s so exhilarating. It’s super crazy and you’re so awake and alert and everyone is there in their crazy outfits, whatever gear they chose for the madness which is about to unfold.
And then they do whatever it is they do to start that particular race. It used to be a little gun called a starter’s gun. In some places, they still use those. In other places, they use an air horn. Whatever. Point is the race begins and you’re in it now.
It’s actually happening.
Finally.
You’re doing a mud run. And you have a big dumb smile on your face and you suddenly feel so stupid because those little 5k runs (runs stroke walks, let’s be honest, but mostly only at the beginning, because by the fourth week you were actually feeling good and had discovered that you actually COULD run. And so you did. And you enjoyed it. And that’s the secret.) Those little 5k runs you did, didn’t quite prepare you for THIS. THIS is nuts. And you don’t really know yet if you like it. You want to. But you’re not sure yet. The jury is still out.
So you’re doing the mud run and you get that rush and you’re so focused on this that all the other stuff you’ve been worrying about is no longer in your head. There’s simply no room for it. You’re a hundred percent totally and completely into this.
But then you get to that obstacle.
And you can’t do it without help. That’s the point. To teach cooperation.
Anyway, the MIT joke is that people at CalTech wear clothing that says I couldn’t get into CalTech so I went to MIT. Or maybe that’s not it. I didn’t go there. But I did visit. We even got to see the clean room where they assemble all the spaceships. Not quite like this one but also very impressive.
But I really do like this club. I dig the cool lighting in here. I love that color and shade of ultraviolet blue light. Like it’s almost purple. But not quite. And then they mixed in a whole bunch of complimentary colors, mostly pink/fuschia, red, purple, and green. If I were going to design my own nightclub, this is exactly how I would want it to look.
And you know, I just noticed something: There’s no clock. Usually, when you’re doing stand-up, when you’re actually out on stage doing your set, preying on God that you don’t eff it up…
That’s right…I said preying on God; it is what I meant to say. Because when we pray, we prey.
Right?
We’re feeding on God for strength. We’re asking for stuff. We’re always asking that we or someone else not die. In addition to lots of stupid materialistic crap we all get caught up in from time to time because, let’s face it, toys are awesome. And like we said, we’re all just big kids at a birthday party, eye fucking the shit out of the cake or the cupcakes or the whatever it is that we want.
And there’s only one cupcake with green frosting. And three other people are already fighting over who’s going to get it. And you already know you’re the one who is going to get it and that it’s already yours, the fallout is just an eventuality and a formality at this point. That cupcake with the neon electric green frosting is yours and anyone who gets in your way or tries to stop you from having it or tries to take it from you is going to die. Or at least get hurt pretty badly because you’re not messing around this time. You want the green cupcake. Perhaps as much as or more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. And you’re going to have it. And that’s how it is.
And you got the cupcake. Fuckin-A-Right you did.
And now you’re fat.
Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you have been able to retain some sexiness, some sveldtness.
And why? How? For those of us who have done so, those of you who have not please realize it is for one reason and one reason only: we are always on a diet. Sometimes more stringently than at other times. And even when we’re not stringent, when we eat, we’re still thinking about what we’re eating. We know the portions and calories and macros of what we’re putting in our mouth.
Hey, here’s an idea — another one —: a condom that looks like a nutrition label on a food item. I’m thinking a protein shake. And maybe graduated measurement lines measuring the contents in cubic centimeters. Again, take it and run with it and share with me. Just three tiny percent. I even feel guilty asking for three percent.
What the eff is wrong with me? I should be saying fifty fifty. But I really want to see my ideas get out there. And I have too many to do it all myself. I just can’t do it. There’s TOO many for any one person.
Has it ever occurred to you to perform? To set up your own alien night club with a green screen? And then the channel blows up and people want to make movies with you, which I would love love love to do. And then you’re on Kimmel or Fallon or something.
Or Conan.
Conan! What the heck, man? Why’d you stop your show? And how high did Seth get you? It seemed to me very little or not at all. We need to talk. We need. Wee need. A small need. Weinied. Or weed need. Like, Dude, what’s your weedneed? Dude, it’s like a 10, man, I’m goin crazy I gotta have it I need it, man! Yep, that’s some weedneed alright. I love you, man. Or tall stranger I’ve never met.
Anyway, so when we pray, we ask God for stuff. It’s fine. He likes it. Just remember to say thank you.
This thought train is all over the place. A little off the rails right now. I guess that’s what happens when you take a newb and put him on stage.
Clocks on stage, counting down, tell you, the comic, how much time you have left in your set. There’s no clock here.
Should we make one?
Or not worry about it. I understand you guys can make anything here. Is that right? Is that really true?
I hear some heads nodding.
Okay, so we can synthesize a clock for the stage but they can’t synthesize weed? I asked for weed earlier and they said they don’t have any.
Bull. Shit.
For the people on Earth, if you guys ever see or hear this, check this out, this is insane; but also really obvious when you think about it; at least, it was to me: You know how on Earth, we have a whole global macroeconomic manufacturing, production, and distribution system? And that’s how we all get stuff from China and a Playstation from Japan and a phone or a Hyundai from South Korea? And you know how a minute ago I said that the people here can synthesize anything they want? Except weed, apparently?
Here’s the thing: they have the same thing here except for two minor but also major differences: it’s entirely autonomous, that’s first, and that’s huge because that means very few people are involved, which is good for accuracy and reliability.
And the second thing is that it’s subatomic. It’s all happening on a subatomic level. We can’t see it. We don’t even know it’s there. But it is. It’s always there. Making whatever you want. And because of the weird stuff quantum mechanics does to our perception of time, you get what you want instantly. Like maybe it took a year to build a building. But here, we don’t perceive that time. At all. To us, it happens in an instant. It’s genius, really.
Ooh, that martini looks good. I think. It has shiny little round gelatinous-looking balls floating in it. Looks tasty, though. And the guy drinking it, yes, hello, sir, you? Hi, are you enjoying yourself?
Yes?
Okay, great. Yes, yes, placate the silly human. Pretend to give a shit. You’re the parent and I’m a three year old who brought you a dirty leaf as a present. Just wave me away and go back to your whatever. Your soap opera.
If you’re a parent and your toddler brings you a leaf, do you press it in a book or frame it under glass and hang it up somewhere prominent so you can cherish it forever? Or do you chuck it as soon as the kid turns their back?
For some reason, in my mind this leaf-bearing child is a child in the 1970s. Bell bottoms and earth tones. And for you, my fellow Earthlings, you can’t see the guy but he has green skin. Like…green. Not green like The Hulk which always looks powdery to me and…frickin…fake. And I LOVE The Hulk, by the way, so don’t get mad. I know they’ve done some amazing stuff and everyone who ever played him — or her! — did a great job. And for me the Hulk is Lou Ferrigno. A real human. Now THAT was hard. And that show was terrifying to me. I think I was eight years old. And the piano at the end, during the credits, is beautiful. Haunting and sad, to reflect the unwanted, homeless, lost feeling David Banner had.
And by the way, there is a kick-ass piece of art on the wall. Again, you guys can’t see it but it’s a bar scene. It’s animated, like someone drew it, almost with crayons. That’s what it looks like. But like a weird three-dee unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And there’s like five or six guys in an alien strip club. And there are female aliens up on stage. And one of them is perched on a stool, talking with a human guy and they’re touching and flirting and having a good time. And she is purple. And lithe. Like a beautiful race horse kind of. But with some very sexy human qualities, like her body, which is smokin’. Not to be a sexist pig but look at her rack. And her abs. And, guess what? She has an eye. Two of them, actually. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And suddenly, you see her. You see her. She’s a person. A beautiful person, in my opinion. And I know millions of you will agree with me on that. It’s like looking at a dolphin or an orca or some sort of whale. They’re big and kind of intimidating despite their beauty. But then, when you see their eye, and you really understand them for the first time, and they’re so cute and beautiful and amazing…. Well, that’s how the purple alien woman in this painting looks. She’s hot.
And if you want to know what sex with them is like, I will tell you: It is awesome. There may have been some adult refreshments served at orientation and there may also have been some fraternization with the locals. I can therefore say that said intercourse is wild. It is weird. And it is amazing.
Here’s the thing, though: they have both sets of genitalia. And whichever one you decide to go for is up to you.
And as weird as you may find it, look at it zoologically: Let’s say they are more like us than we know and they therefore also are grown up children who want the neon green cupcake. Maybe your cupcake is blue or pink or orange or yellow or brown or white; whatever; the point is that that thing is yours and you will fight to protect, defend, and keep it.
And so will they.
And to that end, they have produced the ability for all members of their species to reproduce. Any two can create offspring. It’s actually far more efficient and productive than splitting the whole entire species in half, down into two groups, and then a bunch of smaller groups, and then still hyphen smaller groups, and then a bunch more pissant smaller subatomic microgroups where all you have is pure savagery demanded by the will to live.
When you look at it like that, it’s a numbers game.
So of course it makes more sense that any two of them can pair up and reproduce. Gestation is only six months instead of our nine. Young are born live and do nurse and stay with the one who birthed them. But after about seven or eight months, they’re pretty much off on their own. But they always remember each other. And so while the sibling relationship is not prominent, because young are born alone and rearings do not overlap, the parent child relationship is prominent. So they’re constantly bumping into their children. And then since the kids don’t know each other and are perfectly biologically compatible, it’s game on. And they are an amorous bunch. That painting is spot-on.
And if you’d like to know what they look like, smell like, feel like, they look, smell, and feel awesome. The colors are different from ours. And the smell is kind of like musky flowers. If I ever get back to Earth, I am absolutely one hundred percent going to make a line of perfume and cologne based on their pheromones. And I’m going to call it Musky Flowers. Elon, maybe you and I can partner up on this one. I really like this idea so I’m keeping this one for myself. So no using it without my permission. Okay? If you want to use it and you want to make perfume and cologne that smells like a sexy alien’s vaginacockbutt, I expect to be compensated. This is now an oral agreement, which as Ross told us, is legally binding in the State of New York. So fifty fifty, okay? Deal? Maybe Musky Flowers can be one scent and vaginacockbutt can be the name of the other fragrance. And it’s gotta have a sexual smell, but one that’s also…not floral, exactly, but kind of like it makes you want to smell more of it and it kind of makes you want to eat it. Like you want to put it in your mouth. And being naked would be good. And going at it for hours like animals would be good. That’s what it needs to smell like. The smell needs to make you want to do THAT. To go at it for hours like animals.
Speaking of going at it for hours like animals, back to Barack and Jerry. Two straightmen, up on stage in tuxes, entertaining us for about an hour while they auction off that sweet blue Corvette. And then everyone with the means needs to match that winning price bid for the Vette. And I’m guessing that would put us somewhere in hundreds of millions of dollars. Jerry Lewis did this for years with his telethon. I think we should make a new one of those. It could be a weekly entertainment event. Maybe every Saturday night or something. They auction something cool for a different charity. And the winning bid gets matched by thousands of other people. And wham, bam, thank you, ma’am we’ve got A LOT of money going where it should go. Not being spread around by the government with no one having any idea just how much is going where and whether or not those recipients are deserving or even legitimate charities or even living people trying to make the world a better place by providing help to the people who need it.
See, everybody, back on Earth, a lot of bullshit goes on. I don’t know how people get away with it. I don’t know how they can even perpetrate that kind of fraud to begin with. I would never do the things other people do. I guess desperation or just justifiable self-interest is a powerful motivator.
Speaking of desperation, do you guys know what I was doing before I started doing this? Back on Earth, I mean. I had my own internet show. Like a variety show. I had my own website, my own merch, I had sponsorships — albeit tiny and unheard of low-paying ones —, a fan base of people who would watch my livestreams and chat with me. It was awesome.
Would you like to see the last show I did there before I came here? I have it on my phone and they’ll broadcast it here for you.
People of Earth, sorry, again, I doubt you’ll get to see it, at least not live right now, but I’ll see what I can do. We’ll try to embed it or something. Can’t be that hard. If you see a big play button, there you go. If you don’t, it’s not there yet.
Okay, roll it.
Okay, there you go: Spaghetti. For the Earthers who haven’t seen what everyone here in this room just saw, and God help me because even I was laughing, I’ll describe a little summary of what happened. I did a Houdini trick where I had to escape from inside one of those really big tanks of water, the kind magicians use, usually chained or cuffed or in a straight jacket or whatever. Only instead of water, I used a giant tank of spaghetti. It was disgusting. My wrist hurt like crazy from opening all those cans of spaghetti. Which was very cold, by the way. I should’ve heated it up. That would’ve felt nice, like a squishy tomato sauce Jacuzzi massage—
You know what? That’s it! That’s what having sex with the sexy purple alien feels like. Like having sex with a bowl of quite warm, maybe even a little bit hot Chef Boyardee spaghetti. Very squishy. Very hot and soft. A little weird and different at first. Just like the first iPhone when Steve Jobs got rid of all the buttons. But now we all love it. Right?
But yeah, that was my last show. Before a guy with red hair showed up and basically took me. Somewhat against my will. I never actually said, Yes, I want to be abducted so please abduct me. Not sure if I have a case here or not. Not sure if their actions meet the legal definition of kidnapping. Or in what jurisdiction we could even charge them.
By the way, you wanna hear something else crazy? They told me that there are buttloads of aliens on Earth. And that there are thousands of planets with life on them and the universe is like the 405 pretty much any time of day. That’s a main freeway in Los Angeles, folks. It's a big road with lots of lanes and everyone’s doing ninety and it’s insane compared to other parts of the country where people are afraid of anything over sixty-five.
Point being that tons of them come there. They love it there. It’s like a zoo. Or a preserve. Or a wild animal farm. Or a buffet. Or camping. But they are experts at blending in. So you hardly ever realize a totally non-human being is standing next to you in line at Magic Kingdom or is in the car next to you or lives in your building or on your street or in your neighborhood or goes to your gym or your church. Because some just come for a little while. Maybe a few days. But some friggin live there. They assimilate. They fit right in. It’s weird at first, but you figure it out.
So that was interesting to learn that. I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been here, by the way. There’s no time here. Which I guess is why there’s no clock on the stage, staring at me, making me more and more nervous because I haven’t even gotten to the set-up for my best joke and that whole thing takes exactly 40 seconds and the clock is already at 37.
But, yeah, there’s no time here. And time is frozen in the place where we came from and also in the place we’re traveling to. We just pop in and out. That way, when you’re there, you’re present for everything. You didn’t miss anything because nothing happened because time stopped. And on the spaceship, you’re out of time completely. Time does not apply. It’s not a thing. It’s like air in the vacuum of space. There isn’t any. No air in space and no time when traveling between intergalactic destinations.
But what about your body, you ask. Your body is still respiring, metabolic processes are still happening, cells and chromosomes and telomeres are still aging.
They have drugs for that.
No weed. Apparently.
But they can give you medicine that will make you live forever. It’s not even medicine. It’s in your food and water. It’s all monitored and delivered via that subatomic sourcing system I told you about. When you have DNA that needs to be repaired, it happens automatically on a subatomic level. You don’t even know about it. You don’t feel it. You’re not aware of it. It just happens. And you stay in perfect health. Like, I feel great. They fixed a bunch of stuff when I first got here. But now I’m fine. I feel great. I’ll never get sick. I’ll never grow old. And I won’t ever die. Unless I want to do those things. Then I can go back to Earth or to anywhere else where time does pass. But again, the people there aren’t going on without you, aging without you, getting older without you, while you stay the same age. So you’re gone for two days and you get back and 20 years have passed and your family is old and it’s a tragedy.
That doesn’t happen.
What kind of cheesedick system would that be? No one could ever travel. We’d all be stuck in our own solar system.
So of course a temporal avoidance system had to be implemented. I have yet to talk to anyone who has any idea where the whole thing came from, if it was built by somebody or what. They had the same problem in Contact. They were using a brilliant system that they had discovered rather than invented and built.
This place is crazy, by the way. And this is only a ship. It’s like an entire city. It’s like a small state. I have no idea how big it is. I haven’t been to the edge of it yet. Like The Truman Show in space. The Love Boat in space. And I’m the entertainment. Stand-up comedian and fuckboy extraordinaire. Like, right now, my dick hurts. My penis literally hurts. It’s sore from all the you-know-what I’ve been doing. I did it with someone backstage just a little while ago. And my dick hurts. And all I have to do is say the word and Paige Davis and her crew of designers and contractors will show up really, really small inside my dick and they’ll make it like new again. Ready to rock’n’roll.
To be clear, Paige Davis isn’t going to actually come here, redesigning the interior spaces of my gentleman’s sausage. It’s simply a metaphor. A very bad, inappropriate metaphor. Sorry, Paige.
Speaking of small things inside you, did you guys see the Matt Damon shrinking movie? What the eff was that? It started out so good. And then it turned and got really weird and dark and nihilistic, which I can understand because it matched the frame of mind of the protagonist. But then it became an environmental piece, which would’ve been fine, but the choosing love over surviving the apocalypse thing didn’t work for me. Whatever. I understand what they were doing and the choices they made. I just wanted it to remain a comedy somehow. Especially because that’s how the trailer portrayed it.
Point being that before they could shrink you down to go live in the tiny man-made city where your savings were instantly ten–exxed and you were instantly a millionaire, you had to have surgery to remove any foreign objects. Because those items wouldn’t shrink down. So pacemakers, artificial joints, heart stents, fillings, et cetera, would remain normal size while you shrank, and it would rip you apart. It would be one hundred percent fatal. I thought it was very smart that they thought of that. Sorry, I would look up the names of the writers but my phone has no service here. They’re working on getting my phone to be compatible with their systems. Or I can use their system which is more like VR contact lenses without the lenses.
Speaking of The Love Boat, that’s another idea I had. It was The Love Boat in Space. That’s a horrible title. Totally on the nose. On the nose used to be a hip, fun, Hollywood insider term, by the way. I remember learning it when I was studying screenwriting and independent producing at UCLA. Anyway, I had this awesome idea about six or seven years ago for a novel about a spaceship that is more like a cruise ship. Flying to Mars is going to take a good seven months, right? So it’s like a modern-day transatlantic crossing that took weeks. So you live on the ship. It must be its own little city. With little dwellings for us and our stuff, with a place to sleep.
That’s another thing: sleep. For all of you folks here, you may not be aware of this but humans sleep. We have to sleep. It’s an activity that we do. It’s caused by a biological need. Every day, which we divide into units of time we call hours, we sleep about eight hours. So every day is 24 hours because of how the Earth rotates while simultaneously revolving around our Sun. Which is how and why we have day and night, seasons, and years.
And of those 24 hours, we sleep between six and eight hours. Sometimes less, sometimes more, but on average, seven to eight hours every night. When it’s dark out. After the sun goes down. We go into a special room in our house where we have a piece of furniture we call a bed and we lay down and cover ourselves with blankets and we rest our heads on pillows and we turn off all the lights so it’s dark in there and then we close our eyes and we do this thing called sleep. We lie there for eight hours and barely move. We’re completely vulnerable. We’re aware of nothing. If you ever want to attack Earth, you have two options.
One option is to attack the dark side where everyone is asleep. Because they won’t see you coming and you can take over right away. You can establish your position and then deal with all the people from the daytime side of the Earth who have figured out what you’re doing and are coming to kick your ass.
The other option is to attack the daylight side and fight all the people who are awake. And then wait for the sleeping people to wake up and try to stop you, but it’ll probably be too late by then.
Either way, please don’t do that. That would suck.
But this man named Neil deGrasse Tyson, who is a scientist, went on what we call a podcast where he talked with another man named Joe Rogan and Neil told Joe how weird it would be to try to explain to aliens what sleep is.
And he’s right. You guys have no idea. Some of you. Some of you sleep but many of you don’t.
Apropos of nothing, again, and thank you Sheryl Crow, there was a fly in my coffee earlier. Kinda gross. I was in my dressing room, getting ready to come out here and start the show, and I picked up my coffee mug, which I had conjured earlier using their special Star Trek replicator synthesizer system. It was a nice heavy glass mug of Turkish coffee. I like a heavy glass mug with a big handle, so it cools down faster than if it’s in a clay mug, and so that you can see the coffee, which is great because as someone once said we eat with our eyes, and Turkish coffee looks so good in a glass mug, all rich and dark, dark brown, with the layer of coffee at the bottom of the mug.
So I go to enjoy the last final little sip, and as I put the mug to my lips, I see there’s a dead fly floating in it. I was like, “What the heck? I’m on a spaceship. A spaceship infested with flies? And there’s one floating dead in my coffee?” You should’ve seen it. Its legs were all curled up. Definitely dead. It looked like a regular Earth fly, too. I should ask the guy who abducted me. Red skin, white hair.
By the way, do you guys like my tee shirt? On Earth, tee shirts are all the rage. Everyone wears tee shirts. Not all the time. There are lots of different kinds of shirts based on the occasion. But the tee shirt is a very casual, common garment that humans wear on our upper bodies much of the time. They are very comfortable and informal and not expensive. So most of us have a lot of them.
And at some point in the 1960s, maybe, people began using them as art. Displaying interesting pictures or words or phrases. Shit happens. The yellow smiley face. Or, like mine, which I designed and sell myself on my website. For those of you who can’t quite see me, it’s just a regular black tee shirt and on the front in kick-ass orangish-yellow letters that remind me of Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit, it says Real Men Don’t Masturbate.
I think it’s hilarious.
And, and, wait for it, wait for it, apropos.
Because there’s a slight porn problem on Earth. It’s been a problem for a while. Too many people are watching too much porn. For those of you here of the xenophilic persuasion, porn is a video of people having sexual intercourse. Humans love watching other humans have sex. Not all do. But a lot do. And they touch their genitals and pleasure themselves sexually while they watch it. This is called masturbation. Is it normal? Yes. Can it be unhealthy if you do it too much and use it instead of having a relationship with another person? Yes. Sex is better than masturbation.
So don’t rip that off, okay? Yeah, maybe Mr. Wonderful is right and a tee shirt is nothing more than a dumb commodity, a commodi-tee? Like on Shark Tank when that guy presented the Home Tee, with 50 different designs, one for each state of the American union that says Home. For people who love their state. I liked the idea. I never bought one. Not sure I ever saw one in a store to buy. And I didn’t care enough to go online and buy one.
So please don’t rip that off. And if you do, three percent! I want my two dollars! Sorry, that’s a line from a famous movie back home. It’s a love story. With dancing French fries and a sweet black Camaro.
I went to an alien rave the other day. That was intense. It was mostly a certain type of being, shall we say. The tall, thin ones with the big dark almond-shaped eyes that people on Earth are terrified of. It was thousands of them. Thousands. All rocking out and headbanging to this weird noise. To me it sounded like a symphony of dentist drills. Like dozens of drills all going at once, at different speeds and pitches. It was a nightmare symphony.
That would be a great name for a band. Or an album. Or a song. Nightmare Symphony. Three percent? If you want to be kind and have good karma, I wouldn’t mind. Metallica? Care to give it a whirl? It’s been a while since you guys did a symphonic album. It might be fun to revisit it.
But yeah, thousands of scary aliens headbanging to a terrible sound. But to them it was music.
So what is the difference between music and noise? It is apparently highly subjective. And if somebody starts a band called Nightmare Symphony, make sure to write happy songs, too. For every dark, depressing, angry or angsty song you write, write two upbeat, positive, happy songs.
Because here’s the thing: When you go hiking or camping or scuba diving or skiing or whatever, something in nature, you try to leave it the way you found it, right?
And if you find some trash or a water bottle or whatever, you pick it up, right? You put it in a trash receptacle or you take it with you. So you're leaving that place better than how you found it.
Well, this is our same duty in the world at large. You need not be out in Yosemite or diving the great barrier reef in order to pick up a piece of trash. You can do it in your own neighborhood. You can do it in your own house or apartment. Just tidy up a bit. So you're slowly but surely making the world a better place. This is what everyone wants, right? To save the world? In Judaism, this is called tikkun olam.
Thank you, have a great night, everybody! Thank you! I want my two dollars!
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