I was thinking: Uh, when can I have my ticket receipts? When can this professional comedian finally expect to get his house out of hock and have a little walking around money?
What do you think Will Rogers would be talking about if he were alive today? Poopies in his doopies? Cuckas in his bumbum pants?
Can we get a move on, please?
Look: I'm sorry that your sickness jurisdiction demands strong talk. What would you rather someone do, kindergarten patty-cake?
I appreciate that everyone in Washington has hammered out new rules to deal with me: "Okay. He can say anything he wants as long as he doesn't directly threaten to kill anyone. ...And even if he does, we'll cut him some slack because he's not exactly a lawyer. ...Alright! That's too far! He crossed the line!... ...Alright, well just this once. No more!"
I appreciate that consideration. Don't think it's lost on me.
But I kind of need to earn a G-D living, okay?
What the eff is going on over there?
