Jim Norton: Mouthful of Shame (2017) Movie Script
1
First of all,
thank you so much for doing this.
I know you're busy.
I was kind of embarrassed to ask you.
What do you need, exactly?
Because I'm--
Um, I want you to--
-You're gonna look into the camera.
-Right.
Get the audience really psyched up
to see me, a nice introduction.
Just get them really juiced
to have me coming out.
What about: "Ladies and gentlemen,
you are in the for the night
of your lives.
This next comedian makes Jerry Seinfeld
and Chris Rock look like rubbish.
George Carlin and Richard Pryor were shit
compared to him.
Please welcome the greatest comedian
in the world: Jim Norton."
Nah, it's just too much.
It's a little over the top.
-Is it?
-Yeah, too much.
-Oh.
-Kind of hard to believe all that.
Well, yeah. I was trying to big you up.
So...
Something a little bit less
pressure-inducing.
Right, okay. You don't want pressure.
I'm sorry.
I didn't realize you didn't want pressure
when doing a special on Netflix
that's gonna be seen
by millions of people.
But you don't want pressure.
-It should feel honest.
-Honest?
-Honest is important.
-Okay. Honest. Yeah, honest.
What about: "Please give it up
for the dirty, disgusting,
depraved little peeled turtle with AIDS,
the king of cum-guzzling himself,
Mr. Jim Norton."
-Too honest?
-Yeah? Sorry.
[sighs]
Hey, buddy. I've got a favor to ask you.
I'm shooting a special, and I'm looking
for someone to introduce me,
and I would love it to be you.
You'd just kind of say something nice
about me and bring me onstage.
If that would--
Look, I appreciate you doing this,
but it just doesn't seem
like you really mean any of it.
You don't believe what I just said?
Ladies and gentlemen, coming up
to the stage sometime soon,
in a little while, is Jim Norton.
-See? Right there. It's no good.
-What do you mean?
You don't sound like you mean it.
You've got to say it with conviction.
You're telling me how to deliver lines?
Your goal here is to get people
really happy and excited to see me.
I'm an actor. I'm not a fucking magician.
You don't like the way I did that? Huh?
I didn't say I didn't like it.
Stop being so nervous.
Do it again,
you fucking nervous little prick.
Go ahead, do it again.
-Your motivation should be--
-My motivation?
Should be--
Now say it again with conviction,
you ugly little slug.
Your motivation should be--
You dirty, nervous prick!
Jimmy, come on! You can do it!
Ladies and gentlemen,
do me a fucking favor
and please welcome Jim Norton!
-[audience cheering and applauding]
-[rock music playing]
The world today
Is such a wicked place
Fighting going on
Between the human race...
Thank you.
Thank you very much for coming.
I really appreciate you being here.
How about that?
[audience cheering]
Robert De Niro spanked my bare ass.
I was sick the day we shot that,
and my whole fear, I was like,
"Please, don't shit on his hand.
Don't shit on his hand."
Look, I have a decent comedy career.
I'm doing stand-up over 20 years.
I'm not mainstream famous, obviously.
Kevin Hart is mainstream famous.
I have the type of fame where people
will see me, and they kind of--
Sometimes they know
they've seen me somewhere,
but they're not sure where.
It's never attractive women.
Even if they know me, they don't say it,
'cause they're not sure.
"Did I see him on stage somewhere,
or did he follow me home?"
I always have that--
"Did I see him on Louie
or in my bushes?"
But I don't know what you know
about comedians,
but there's nothing we hate more
than some random guy going,
"Dude, where do I know you from?"
The last thing I want to say is,
"I'm a comedian.
Oh, don't pick on me.
I'm gonna use you in my act, buster.
Come on, let's sit down."
It's repulsive. So, whenever someone says,
"Where do I know you from,"
I'll usually go,
"I think I sucked your dick.
You like it down to the root, right?
You like it down to the root?
Two fingers in the ass,
thumb on the balls. I know you.
Don't get mad, dude. I thought it was you.
Maybe it was your dad.
He looked like you. I apologize.
Don't get mad.
You tell me, do I look familiar?"
I feel so good.
I'm happy to be shooting in New York.
It's nice to be back home.
And I feel rested. I'm always tired.
I fell asleep last night, got eight hours,
had an amazing dream that Kim Kardashian
was sitting on my face
and just grinding.
Well, but then I woke up and realized
my nose was just stuffy.
I like a fat ass
more than a white guy is supposed to.
Black guys are supposed to like fat asses,
but I really like a big, fat ass.
But I tend to date small women.
So, it's awful when I see a big, fat ass
if I'm with a small girl,
and they're like, "That's disgusting."
Then I have to kind of sell out.
"Yeah, it's terrible.
Oh, that would feel awful,
those birthing hips.
I'd hate to hold onto those and slide in.
Ugh!
Oh, her pussy would probably grip you
like the mouth in Aliens.
Oh, disgusting!
How awful,
that soft flesh bouncing back against you.
I like your skeletal hips.
That's what I like, your skeletal--
Ass like a leukemia patient.
That's what turns me on.
Oh, I love it when you turn around
and go..."
[coughs]
I got into a fight recently.
I don't fight a lot.
I'm not a big guy,
so I really don't fight very much.
But I have a big mouth.
I won my fight, though.
I actually won the fight that I got into.
It was a guy.
He was a little drunk, I think.
He was in a store,
and I just overheard him,
and I couldn't help myself.
He had a fedora on.
And he's talking to the salesgirl,
and he's like, "What do you think
I should wear with this?"
And I said, "A rope."
Which is actually
very sound fashion advice.
But he grabbed my shirt.
That's why I think he was drunk.
He grabbed my shirt, and he's like,
"What did you say?"
And I was like, "I'm gonna cum."
Then he gave up immediately.
Too late, unfortunately.
Guys are so homophobic.
It's really funny to me.
We use a homophobic thing
to make each other uncomfortable,
to dominate each other
when we're growing up.
You remember ten or 11 years old,
you'd be sitting at your friend's house,
watching TV in the living room,
and then he'd just walk in out of nowhere
and start humping the side of your face?
Remember?
I still do shit like that.
It's still fun to fuck with your friends.
I walked into a public restroom,
and a buddy of mine was at the urinal,
and you gotta do something
when your friend's at the urinal.
You just gotta fuck with him a little bit.
He didn't hear me walk in,
so I snuck up behind him very quietly
and I stood about an inch behind him,
and then I put my mouth right behind
his neck hair, and I just went...
[deep voice]
"Hey!"
And he freaked out,
and it wasn't my friend.
Yet.
Do you know how hard that is
to explain to a stranger,
why you just spoke onto his neck?
Oh, man. I feel great.
I feel really, really good.
Life has just been good lately.
And it's so funny,
'cause you find things you like
as you get older.
I'm in my 40's now, so you find shit
that makes you feel good.
Like, I have a hatred
of somebody telling me a story,
and at one point in the story, you know
how they ask you to guess at part of--
It's usually because the story is shit,
and they think that your guess
will propel their story into interesting.
They'll say, "Guess how many?"
Then you guess the number,
and then they tell you the real number,
and you're like, "Holy shit!
I should've guessed--"
I've begun over-guessing on purpose
just to totally destroy the momentum
of the story.
Once you do it, you'll never not do it.
And I know I'm a piece of shit
for robbing little victories
from all my friends.
Fuck them. Their stories are terrible.
My manager Jonathan-- I love him,
but he does this to me all the time.
He bought a watch,
and he paid 1,500 bucks for the watch.
And if he had just said, "I paid 1,500
for this watch, but it's worth 2,000,"
I would've been impressed.
I would've been like,
"Oh, cool, you saved 500 bucks."
But he tried to have,
like, a "holy shit" moment with it.
He's like,
"Dude, I paid 1,500 for this watch.
Guess how much it's worth."
"I don't know.
A hundred-and-thirty-thousand?"
And I'm still giddy at the memory
of that stupid fucking smile
melting off his face.
'Cause now his real number
has no impact whatsoever.
Like, I guessed 130,000.
He can't go, "No. 2,000."
"Oh, hey,
that's a heck of a savings, too!"
Fucking shoot yourself.
Your story was terrible.
And I started doing it--
It's weird. I begun--
The joy of over-guessing,
I discovered by accident.
I was trying to do the right thing.
A friend of mine is really fat.
Wouldn't it be great
if I just left it right there?
"A friend of mine is fat"
and moved on to something else.
Like, that was just me talking to him.
"You know who you are."
A friend of mine is really fat.
He started losing weight, which was great,
but instead of just letting
somebody notice it,
he told us that he lost weight,
which was kind of awkward
'cause it wasn't really noticeable yet.
He's like, "Dude, I lost some weight."
In my mind, I'm like, "Allegedly."
I didn't see evidence of that at all.
But then he puts me on the spot.
He's like, "Guess how many pounds."
And I don't want to be a scumbag.
"Uh, point..."
So, in an effort to be nice,
I over-guessed. I was like, "50?"
He was like, "No. Six."
And I realized that by over-guessing,
I had totally robbed him of that moment
and made him feel horrible.
And it made me so fucking happy.
I feel so good.
I don't know how to handle feeling--
I don't know how to live feeling good.
I'm so not used to it.
I go through my depression, though,
like everybody else.
I go through my feeling like shit.
You ever get suicidal thoughts? Anybody?
[man] Oh, yeah.
That was a very fast--
Whenever you say "suicidal thoughts,"
you never want the answer
to be that quick.
"Yes!"
Hope you're not on a first date.
That's the wrong time.
"I've wanted to kill myself
and everyone else in the theater."
Oh, good. That's--
But it's weird how sneaky it is
and how it hits you out of nowhere.
You're not prepared for it.
Things are great, then all of a sudden,
your voice, like--
"You forgot to hang yourself."
"What?"
I'm not trying to bum everybody out.
It goes away in six months.
And I don't want to kill myself,
but I've kind of come
to a peaceful conclusion,
that if I ever do decide to kill myself,
I'm gonna go out in style.
And before I do it, I want to write a note
blaming someone I hardly know.
How hilarious would that be, just to wreck
somebody's life for no reason whatsoever?
But it's got to be totally random.
Pick some guy at work
you've talked to once in eight years.
Not even a guy from your department.
Just make it, you know--
"Murray in Human Resources
will know what this is about."
And fucking hang yourself.
For the rest of his life, Murray will be
all fucked up and socially awkward.
"I don't know.
I said hi to the guy once in 2014."
I'm a terrible liar.
I'm a very, very bad liar.
And I wish I was better,
'cause it's hard for me
to be good in relationships.
So, the fact is,
I just give myself away when I'm lying.
I always feel like it's obvious.
Some guys are literally masters of lying.
Your girl could walk in
and catch you fucking one of her friends.
"What are you doing?"
"She fell, baby. I was picking her up."
Just so smooth.
And I admire your ability to do that,
because I just-- my eyes get wide.
I sound like an actor from the 1940s
if I'm texting the wrong person.
"Who is that?"
"It's a buddy, see? Ahh."
Fucking throw the phone into the tub.
"Nothing to see there, chum. Ahh."
Have you ever been such a bad liar
that you try to lie
by just telling the truth
with a sarcastic inflection in your voice,
'cause it feels less like a lie?
Like, if your girlfriend knows
you cheated on her.
"Did you have sex with her?"
"Yeah!
Oh, yeah, yeah. I fucked her twice
while you were in the hospital."
That reads pretty honest in a transcript.
My ex-girlfriend caught me.
I got busted so badly.
Has anybody ever gotten busted talking
to someone you shouldn't be?
Because it's in black-and-white--
Here's what it was.
One morning, I was having
a nasty conversation with a girl,
who I had met one time.
And that's what we do now
in the digital era.
You talk to people who you probably
wouldn't talk to before,
because you can just do it
on your cell phone.
And it was one of those three-hour,
lathered-up, fucking filthy--
I was offering her $500 to come over
and stick her feet in my mouth.
Which, you know, obviously,
I would never do that.
Three-fifty is the cutoff
for foot worship. Everybody knows that.
But I was talking to this girl Maria.
And again, we'd never hung out.
We'd only met one time.
But it was a three-hour--
I was so finished.
I just jerked off and fell asleep.
I didn't even clean up
until the next morning.
Literally, I sounded like a Fruit Roll-Up
when I was pulling my--
[tearing sound]
This is 2011.
I remember this like it was yesterday,
'cause my girlfriend at the time walked
into the bedroom,
and she goes, "Get up, Jim."
You know how you know you're fucked
for some--
The tone of voice implies
this is not gonna be great news.
"Get up, Jim." I'm like, "What?"
I don't know why that was my impression
of myself waking up.
"Wha--" I don't talk like that.
See, I overact, even in real life.
[mumbling]
"Wha--"
I'm like, "What?" And she says,
"I know about your fucking conversation
with Maria last night."
And I'm a little freaked out,
but I look over,
and my phone is exactly where I left it
the night before.
I'm like, "I don't know
what you're talking about."
She's like, "$500 to lick her feet,
you piece of shit?"
So, now I know she knows.
Either that or she's an amazing guesser.
But I wish I would've improv'd
that line I did before:
"Hey, I wouldn't go over 350
for foot worship."
Ha ha! Elbowed her.
Ohh, we'd have made love.
But I knew I was caught somehow.
I didn't know how she knew.
But you know how it is
when you get caught.
I'm just like, "I'm sorry.
I'm a sex addict. I don't know."
There's no way to fish for information
when you're trying
to save your relationship.
I couldn't go, "Baby, I love you.
How did you know, for future reference?"
Here's how she knew.
She told me how she knew.
'Cause none of us are as smart
as we think we are.
None of us understand the technology
as well as we think we do.
And we're all on Wi-Fi,
and all the devices are connected.
And I was in this chat,
and I'm lathered up.
I only have one hand to use on the phone,
obviously.
I hit the wrong button
and I printed the entire conversation
in the living room--
a seven-page PDF file.
Clear, too,
'cause I'd just put in fresh ink.
It was very readable.
And by a terrible coincidence,
she needed the printer the next morning,
'cause she was taking a college course
at the time.
She was very advanced for her age.
So, she takes this conversation out
of the printer,
and the paper she wrote,
and she heads off to class with this.
And this is absolutely the truth.
Thank God she didn't hand it in.
'Cause she was crazy.
I firmly believe she would've woken me up
by putting a knife in my stomach.
She would not have been--
But it would've been a funnier joke.
There's no funny part.
It would've been a much cleverer joke
if she had handed it in, and I would've--
"I got an A. She got a C. Hey-oh!"
The truth itself is not funny.
It's just sad.
The way it played out was
she read the text,
and she felt really betrayed,
and she cried.
[mock crying]
You know?
That's what I'll do.
I'll jazz it up with one of those.
"Got a lot of--" you know?
But I kind of regret it.
You've got to be so careful what you say
and what you put in text,
because this day and age, anything you do
can fucking ruin your life.
You've got to be so scared
of every text you send,
every dirty picture you send,
everything you put on Snapchat.
I mean, I'll tell you
who has struck a blow for privacy.
Hulk Hogan did more for privacy
than any shitty politician has done
in the last ten years
'cause he sued Gawker out of existence.
And that was a very big thing.
You guys know the story.
Hulk was fucking that woman.
He did not know he was being filmed.
And Gawker, I guess, put a link to it up,
and he says it ruined his life.
I think there was racist language
or something.
I guess at the time,
Brooke was dating a black guy,
and I guess Hulk was none too pleased.
And apparently he said the word "nigger"
so many times
that Dog the Bounty Hunter hung up
on him.
So, WWE fired him,
and he said it ruined his life.
But I'll be honest.
I'm a bigger Hulk Hogan fan now
than I've never been.
Did you see the cock on Hulk Hogan?
I ran out and bought
a little yellow headband.
I'm a Hulkamaniac.
Jesus Christ. I never understood
why that stupid leg drop
was such an effective finishing move.
But now I'm just amazed nobody was killed
with that Civil War cannon strapped
to his leg.
"I'm gonna rip your asshole apart,
brother!"
Thank you. That's my Hulk Hogan.
That's what you do when you can't do
an impression as a comedian.
You just jazz it up by moving funny.
You like Christopher Walken?
"Oh! You know, my watch. Ow!"
You name a person, I'll do him.
I don't care. I do good.
I thought you were gonna name somebody.
Okay.
[woman] Oprah!
Oprah? Worst guess ever.
You got to watch it. I was bummed
I fucked up that relationship,
because that girl, she was dirty, man.
She would, like, lick my ass.
She was a trooper.
Every guy likes their ass eaten.
Let's not pretend that I'm the only one
who likes their ass licked.
Here's why that did not get
the rousing round of applause
that ass-eating does deserve.
Literally--
No, you don't have to do it now.
But whenever someone mentions ass-eating,
here's what people ought to do:
"Hold on. Let me put my drink down
and applaud for the idea of ass-eating."
[scattered applause]
No, no, no.
Hey. Easy.
She would eat my ass, and she would--
Look, here's the thing
with getting your ass licked.
It's--
It's embarrassing to ask for.
There's nothing worse than asking
for something
and having a girl go, "No."
Then you're ashamed of liking it.
If you want a girl to suck your dick,
you might go, "Come on, suck my dick."
And if she says no, then you can
kind of coax her a little bit.
Like, "Come on, suck my dick.
Eh? How about it?"
But it's embarrassing if you're like,
"Come on, just lick my ass a little bit."
"No."
"Come on, what are you doing?
Just get back there and eat it.
Part the hair with a comb
and slam your face in there.
What are you doing?
You're gonna feel like you're kissing
the scalp of a marathon runner.
Get in there, you silly goose."
So, you gotta kind of hint at it.
'Cause you can't be ashamed
about something if you're hinting.
So, say your girlfriend
is sucking your dick,
and she pops it out
and she's, like, licking the back.
Exaggeration, obviously.
What do you want, truth in comedy?
All right, so, she's licking the--
"What is he doing?
Is he sealing an envelope
or rolling a joint?
I don't understand."
But if you hint at something,
there's no shame in it
'cause they can't reject it.
So, if your girlfriend is giving you head,
you start raising your hips...
just a little bit. And moaning.
Get a little help, like...
[moaning]
Your balls will slowly drag over her face
like a street sweeper.
Then they're finally just sitting
on her forehead.
She looks like Tiberius Caesar.
She's like, "All right, I get it.
You want your ass licked. Got it."
And then they always do
that little tester lick on your asshole.
Just a little...
You ever lick an asshole?
It's like testing a battery.
And I'm gonna brag a little.
My asshole passes with flying colors.
My asshole is like two immaculate,
hairless peach halves.
And that's exactly how I describe it
on PlentyOfFish.
"Two immaculate, hairless peach halves,
just meant for nuzzling."
But I'm a dirty guy. I'm a dirty person.
And it's funny.
My whole career-- for those of you
who are familiar with me--
I've always said, "I'm a pervert."
But I'm not a pervert.
'Cause a pervert implies
you like a victim,
or you like tricking people.
And I realized that recently.
I don't like anybody vulnerable in sex.
I don't like drunk girls.
I don't like underage girls.
I don't have sex with children.
And I don't why more men
don't talk about that.
That's my best quality.
I don't like virgins. I don't like women
who've only been with a couple of guys,
'cause then it means too much to them,
and I know I'm kind of a piece of shit.
So, I don't want a girl to look at me
with puppy love,
just kissing it like,
"You're so special.
Do you love me, too?
Oh, my God. I'm so happy."
I want a girl to look at my dick and go,
"Ugh, I wish it was black,"
and then blow a snot rocket on it.
Jared Fogle is a pervert.
How do you fuck up the Subway endorsement?
Jared's whole job was
to hold up those big, fat-fuck pants.
That was his job.
All he had to do to stay really rich:
Don't get fat, don't fuck kids.
How hard is that?
I could do that in my sleep.
If you just it say to yourself
on the way out the door--
"Don't get fat and don't fuck kids.
Don't get fat...
don't fuck kids.
Don't get fat, don't fuck kids."
But it's amazing how many people--
you realize their sexual behavior
is so fucked up.
Obviously, Cosby.
I love his new excuse now.
"I couldn't have committed those rapes.
I'm blind now."
Oh, that's how it works.
And I feel really bad for his wife,
Nelson Mandela.
Jesus.
But you knew Cosby was guilty
when Oprah--
Oprah. You got me on fucking Oprah.
You knew Cosby was guilty when
Whoopi Goldberg stopped defending him.
Whoopi defended him for years,
and then finally she had to--
But first of all,
what happened to Whoopi Goldberg?
She looks like KRS-One now.
What the fuck happened to her?
And a lot of those women--
Here's what tells you that he did it.
A lot of those women
were in their 70s,
and 70-year-old women just don't lie
about rape.
I'm not saying that young women are liars,
but women that old
don't ever talk about sex.
They don't lie about sex.
Seventy-year-old women lie
about other shit.
"My grandson called."
"Fuck you, liar. No, he didn't.
It was a wrong number, and you kept him
on the phone for an hour and a half.
You lying old bag!"
But you try to find something good
in everything.
And the wonderful thing
about that relationship ending
was that it forced me
to start working out
'cause I knew I was gonna have
to meet women again.
And I lost a lot of weight.
Has anybody lost weight
in the last few years?
How much weight did you lose?
[man] I lost 100 pounds.
I lost 100 pounds.
What? You lost 100 pounds?
Jeez. What, did you drown your girlfriend?
What happened?
-How'd you lose 100 pounds?
-I don't work out. I just--
You don't work out? Come on.
You mean that's natural?
That's like me saying,
"I don't play center for the Lakers."
No shit, stupid.
When you start losing weight,
here's the thing.
A hundred pounds, congratulations.
That's awesome.
Oh, yeah. Give him a hand.
The weird thing is,
I lost about 30 pounds over the years,
and when you start losing weight,
the first five or six or ten pounds,
people are like, "Wow, you look great."
But after you lose, like, 15 pounds,
people don't know how to respond.
Twenty pounds, they're like,
"Uh...
have you been dieting,
or did Charlie Sheen bleed in your mouth?"
Is it okay to joke about Charlie?
Was anybody shocked when he announced
he was HIV-positive? No.
I like Charlie Sheen,
but that's how you know
you've lived a pretty AIDSy life...
when you're that famous
and you're like, "I'm HIV-positive,"
and the whole country is like,
"Well, yeah, I hope so."
For Pete's sake.
I gotta be honest.
Charlie's HIV diagnosis really scared me.
It really shook me because--
I don't know Charlie.
We've never met, never hung out.
But it just kind of rocked me,
and I started thinking
about my sexual behavior.
Even though we've never met,
Charlie and I have had sex
with, I think, four of the same people.
And there's only one
I can mention publicly
because she and I
have discussed it publicly,
and I don't ever want to out people.
But for many years on the radio,
we would interview Bree Olson.
Bree would come in.
If you don't know Bree,
she's a beautiful blond porn star.
She's fun. She's really sexy,
and whenever she was on our show,
she'd always flirt with me.
She'd always be like, "I like you.
You're really cute."
And I was always like,
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
'Cause I thought she was just doing it
for the radio.
She's probably thinking,
"This guy is blowing me off,"
but meanwhile, I just have no self-esteem.
I'm just like, "Oh, come on."
She thinks I'm too cool for the room.
Meanwhile, I feel like the Elephant Man
when he has the tuxedo on
in front of British high society.
[slurring] "Everybody's been so kind!"
But one day, her publicist says to me,
"No, Bree actually likes you.
She's not joking."
And whatever cool, detached attitude
I had built up evaporated.
I was at Bree's hotel
in less than an hour. Like, really--
"Hi!"
This close to the fucking,
you know... peephole.
You think my face is unpleasant now?
Look at it through the hole.
It's just a fucking...
stupid half a moon.
And we fucked. And I gotta be honest.
It's one of the most earthshattering
sexual experiences I've ever had.
It was beautiful.
And I don't think
that she enjoyed it as much...
'cause she would never do it again.
I tried for years to make it happen again.
I would text her, "What are you doing?"
She'd write back,
"Anything but fucking you."
It just was--
I think I blew it. Let me ask you,
is it a turn-off to say "I love you"
too quickly?
All right, let me ask the women.
Is it a turn-off
if the first time you fuck a guy,
as he's putting it in,
he's mumbling,
"I love you, I love you, I love you,"
and crying onto your face?
Is that a turn-off?
And I was talking to a buddy of mine.
He was like, "Did you wear a condom?"
I'm like, "What a cute question.
No, stupid. I didn't.
When you're getting into a Lamborghini,
you don't put on a body bag, do you?"
I wouldn't have worn a condom
if I looked into her pussy
and saw Magic Johnson waving up at me.
So, then, you fast-forward.
We have sex. She goes out to LA.
She dates Charlie Sheen at one point.
Then all of a sudden, Charlie comes out
and announces he's HIV-positive.
So, I just backtracked a little bit.
I'm like, "Oh, no,
did I get the whole ball rolling?
Oh, no, I gave AIDS
to the guy from Platoon.
I'm a piece of shit."
But luckily, Bree Olson has been tested
multiple times.
She does not have HIV.
She is totally negative,
which means I'm HIV-negative.
Yeah, that's how I take an AIDS test.
I'm too freaked out to go to the doctor,
so I just fuck a girl
and then see her in a year,
and, you know--
"Hey, how are you?"
"I'm great." "Makes two of us."
She had the strength to smile.
That's six more months of no rubbers
for the kid.
And it's hard for me to meet people,
to be really honest with you,
because I've talked about myself
so much publicly.
People know so many things about me,
and none of it's a secret.
Anybody familiar with me
knows I like transgender girls.
That's not new information.
And if it is, well, now you have it.
But it's so funny.
The whole country is, like, trans-crazy,
and we're really obsessed with it,
and it's so funny how
when the new thing happens
or becomes in the lexicon,
you can't joke about it on TV.
I tried to do a Caitlyn Jenner joke,
and the network said,
"Oh, no transition jokes."
I'm like, "It's not even a mean joke."
They're like,
"Yeah, but we just don't like it.
They've been marginalized."
I'm like, "Look, just 'cause
you've been marginalized
doesn't mean that you're removed
from the humor spectrum
like everybody else."
It wasn't even a mean joke. First of all,
the network canceled her reality show.
How shitty is your reality show
when you were on a Wheaties box,
you're now a woman,
you were a Kardashian,
you killed somebody driving,
and the network goes, "It's boring.
There's nothing happening to talk about"?
And I think Hollywood means well.
Their hearts are in the right place.
But it's a little bit phony.
Some of it is just a little bit fake.
You know how they can't talk about Caitlyn
without saying how beautiful she is?
"Have you seen how beautiful Caitlyn is?"
No.
She looks like the gypsy from Thinner.
But it's so funny.
Not one of these freethinking,
progressive celebrities
who always use the right pronoun,
not one of them has admitted to having sex
with a transgender girl,
to watching trans porn,
to being attracted to trans women.
Not one of them. That's being supportive.
Don't tell me what words to use.
You want to support a young lady?
You lift her skirt, you suck her cock.
That's how you say, "I'm with you."
Don't tell me what to joke about until
you've laid in bed with a sore asshole,
mumbling, "Who am I?"
You ever brush your teeth
and scream "faggot" in the mirror
for a half hour?
I have.
And I know why they won't talk about it.
I know why they won't admit it.
'Cause they don't know
if it makes you gay.
"If I have sex with a trans girl,
does that make--"
It does not make you gay
to have sex with a trans girl.
But even if it did, I would tell you.
I wouldn't care.
But I understand
why certain people think it does.
We can't be so pro-trans
or politically correct
that we forget that differing opinions
are gonna pop up.
An open and honest conversation
doesn't mean
that you just shut down somebody
when they say unpleasant shit.
I get why some guys think it's gay.
But it's just not. Until you've done it--
Like, when you kiss,
it's a feminine energy.
It's not a masculine energy,
or it wouldn't turn me on.
The breasts are normally fake,
but so what?
Every stripper I ever fell in love with
had fake tits.
That never turned me off. I never
threw a girl out of the Champagne Room.
"Beat it with your augmented bosoms,
madam!"
You know, then the skirt comes up.
All right.
It's a large clitoris.
But what, am I gonna be rude to my guest?
Get over here.
[grunting]
[popping sounds]
Just look at the breasts, that's all.
If you're new to the game,
look at the breasts.
"Oh, I love her so much. I love her."
If it's your first time at the rodeo,
don't look at the feet.
That'll put the whammy on you.
"Oh, no, those feet scored 13 points
in the fourth quarter.
I'm fucking gay."
[grunting]
And it's funny, too-- I've talked
to a lot of trans girls about--
One girl told me that,
just to feel feminine as a kid,
she used to wear her mother's underwear.
Whew.
That one affected me.
I mean, your mother's underpants.
I don't care what gender you are.
Is there a worse item in the house...
than your mother's underpants?
I wouldn't touch my mother's underpants
if she was hanging off a bridge
by her underpants.
I'd probably just blow her a kiss
and then step on her fucking fingers.
Did you ever see your mom's panties
on the floor?
You gotta take a stick
and knock them under the dresser.
Can you imagine putting those on?
I'd rather wear my father's used condom
on my nose like an aardvark.
I saw one pair of my mom's panties
when I was a kid.
Thank God they weren't sexy at all.
I feel bad for any kid
that has the hot mom
who all his friends want to fuck.
We all had that one friend,
everyone wanted to fuck his mother.
And that's gotta be awful
to find your mom's panties,
and it's just a pair of boy shorts
with a little arrow in the back.
Like, "Ugh.
Oh, no. Mom's a three-holer."
My mom's panties were awful.
They started at the middle of the chest.
They ended right above the knee.
It looked like an androgynous bathing suit
on Boardwalk Empire.
That's what you want your mother--
If you see your mother in her panties,
you want to start thinking,
" Hello, my ragtime gal "
You don't want to think
about your parents sexually at all.
You know your parents fuck
because we're all alive,
so we're evidence of it.
But my parents told me,
like, when I asked about it,
they said, "We just made love
because we wanted to create you
and we wanted to create your sister Tracy.
That's the only reason."
So, they made it look like it was purely
something they suffered through
to make me.
That's how all of you look
at your parents.
You don't even want to think
about your mother
kind of drunk on the bed going,
"Come on, hurry up!"
And your father going,
"You're not even wet yet!"
And her going,
"That's my asshole, stupid!"
And he's not hard.
He's got paintbrush dick.
You don't want to think about your father
with paintbrush dick.
Looks like a snail
trying to break into an aquarium.
You don't want to picture your mother
going, "Hold on.
Hurry up."
I'll give you all a second
to insert your parents into that thought,
like I have to do every time I tell
that fucking stupid joke.
But it's so funny how we just don't think
of them that way.
And I grew up in a pretty conservative--
I don't know how I turned
into such a monster
growing up in a conservative house.
Did anybody have
kind of open-minded parents
who would talk to you about sex?
Anybody have parents like that?
-[man] Yes.
-Who said "yes"?
You're nodding. How old were you
when your parents talked to you about sex?
-Thirteen.
-Thirteen?
-They broke it to me hard.
-They broke it to you hard?
How'd they break it to you?
They just straight up told me,
"This is how this happens. There you are."
They straight up told you, "This is
how this happens, and there you are."
And when you were 13, you didn't know--
Oh, no, what else did they tell you?
"And we're the ones who put the gifts
under the tree."
Did you ever catch them having sex?
Anybody ever catch your parents?
[woman] Oh, I did.
-There's always a couple.
-I did.
-Who's the woman who said, "I did"?
-I did.
Hello, miss.
-They talked about it to me--
-Hold on, miss.
You're panicking. I feel like--
She's been waiting 30 years
for someone to ask her,
"Did they ever talk to you about it?"
Hold on.
How old were you when you saw them?
[woman] I tried to block it out.
Are you trying to block it--
I'm just asking in general. About how old?
[woman] I don't know.
I would assume, like, ten or so.
About ten.
What were you doing at the time?
-Were you in the house?
-Yeah, I had a bad dream.
-I walked into their room.
-You had a bad dream.
Oh, Christ. Then you walked
into a nightmare. That's nice.
That's the last thing you need
after a bad dream.
"Oh, I dreamt there was a ghost
under my bed.
Oh, terrific."
Now, you walked in.
-Were they in the bedroom?
-Yeah.
-Did they know that you saw them?
-Yeah.
Yes, they did.
Did they talk to you about it after?
It was obvious. No, my dad asked me
if I wanted hot chocolate.
Your dad asked
if you wanted hot chocolate.
Oh, no. They were having anal. Oh, no.
Well, that's what you need
after you catch your parents fucking.
"Aah!" [popping sound]
"Let's have a cocoa."
Now, okay, so you had hot chocolate,
and they told you about what happened
and what it was?
No. Like, my parents--
I knew what it was when I walked in.
You knew what it was when you walked in.
Some people just don't talk about it.
It's just no eye contact
at the breakfast table until you're 18.
Like, "You want milk for your Cheerios?"
"No, I'll just fucking cut it
with a fork and knife."
I know you kind of don't want
to think about it. I understand.
What position...
were they in?
It depends, is this gonna be aired?
Are they gonna know?
Is it gonna be aired? No!
No!
No.
No.
Why would we air it on a Netflix special?
Wow. Somebody's not very observant.
What did you think that was?
Did you think that was LeBron James' arm
taking a selfie?
Yeah, so, we don't know who you are,
we don't know who your parents are.
What position?
-Oh, you're really waiting for--
-I'm really waiting. Of course I am.
Please. You think that thing
just jumped up for no reason?
It's not dripping down my leg for nothing,
sweetie.
-I don't know. Just, like, regular.
-Regular. Missionary. Okay, cool.
Were Mom's legs wrapped around Dad?
Like, was she trying to keep in that seed?
Or were the legs wide open
'cause Dad was drilling that pussy...
so hard that her legs just shot open?
Thank you very much for sharing that
with us.
It's funny, people's reaction
when they catch their parents.
I've never caught my parents, thank God,
but you kind of know
when they're doing something.
I would always know my parents
were doing something
'cause it'd be in the middle
of the afternoon
and the bedroom door would be closed,
and then you'd just hear, like...
[squeaking]
And then the telltale...
[whirring]
of the Polaroid.
[squeaks, whirs]
And you knew they were almost finished
as it started getting faster.
And then you'd hear, "My eye burns!"
[whirring]
Then your mom
and three of your dad's coworkers
would walk out of the bedroom.
But some people--
Like, we talked, some parents--
some parents are just open-minded,
and they're more liberal about it.
My buddy Scott knew where
his mother's dildo collection was.
And we did not handle that information
responsibly.
As ten-year-old kids,
as soon as his parents left the house,
we would grab the dildos,
start sword-fighting with them.
We'd try to chase him
and shove them in his mouth.
I got one shoved in my mouth.
I had to pretend I didn't like it.
"Cut it out, guys!"
[groaning]
We used to throw them at his cat...
which I wouldn't do now,
but in 1979, that was Xbox.
That was all we had.
And I wish I had an iPhone back then.
What a great video that would've been,
just a cat under a sofa
with its ears back,
hissing at a pile of dildos.
[hissing]
And his mother must've wondered
why all her dildos
had scratch marks and cat hair on them.
She'd probably grab the cat
and smack his face.
"What were you doing with my dildos?"
I don't know if my mother has dildos
to this day.
I'm in my 40s. I have no idea.
When my parents die,
I'm not going through their shit.
I'm just going to take the dresser
and kick it into the front yard.
Let the homeless people take
whatever they want.
Maybe I'll look out the window
and see a homeless guy running away
with what is hopefully
a small white dildo.
That's all you can hope for.
You definitely don't want to see one
of those over-the-shoulder jobs.
Bouncing in the front and the back.
With two heads on it. "Oh, Mom."
Or "Oh, Mom and Dad. Ohh.
Oh, no. Mom and Dad were bookending."
Yeah, they were pretty normal people.
And I turned into such a dirtbag
and a dirty guy,
and I just-- I don't know.
I was always kind of antisocial.
You ever look back at your life
and realize,
"Wow, I was a fucking antisocial
human being."
When I was 13,
I used to drink with my friends.
I stopped when I was very young,
but for the few years I did it,
I was a weirdo. Like, a real weirdo.
We used to get drunk at my friend's house,
and I wouldn't do fun drunk stuff.
I used to get drunk and then just go
into his family's bathroom
and urinate all over the sink handles
and, like, on the toothbrushes
and in the soap dish.
And here's the psychotic part.
I wouldn't even tell my other friends
I had done it.
When you're that young, no matter what
you do to make your friends laugh is okay.
But I didn't tell my friends.
I just kind of sat there,
just smirking
like a fucking serial killer,
just thinking of his family
washing their face with my piss soap.
Like, what a fucking creep.
And I've talked about this before
on the air.
The cat-- I would always take the cat,
and I would unroll his father's newspaper
and scoop all the cat shit out
of the litterbox
and put it in the newspaper
and then carefully roll it back up
and put it on the coffee table.
And to this day, I still think
I'm kind of a genius for having done that.
But I never got to see the results of it.
Like, if I had a time machine
and I could only use it once,
I wouldn't save Jesus.
I wouldn't stop World War II.
I'd go back to North Brunswick,
New Jersey, in 1979
just to watch that man
open his newspaper
and see his face as animal shit fell
on his lap.
You know how many times that cat
probably got beaten with a shoe?
And the cat can't articulate.
"Really? You think I took my own shit
and put it in a newspaper
and rolled it up carefully
like I'm fucking hosting a cat prank show,
you dummy?"
You ever have memories come flooding back?
That happens sometimes, too.
I blocked a lot of shit out
when I was young.
And this one is not even traumatic.
It was just weird.
I was with my friend,
and we were stealing Star Wars figures.
They were the original
Star Wars figures.
Remember them?
They were, like, four inches tall,
and some of them are worth thousands
of dollars today
because they're ultra-rare.
So, it was one of my best friends.
He was a really good dude.
He had a huge dick.
And we're in a department--
I'm saying that for a reason.
I'm not just throwing--
That would be great
if I didn't go back to it for any reason.
"Did he elaborate on his friend's dick?"
"No, he just threw it out there
and smiled."
He was just the guy
that we all knew had a huge dick.
So, we had on shorts and tank tops,
so we couldn't put stuff down our shorts.
So, we were taking the action figures out
of the package
and kind of walking up
to the front of the store and hiding them,
and at the end of the day,
we were gonna scoop a bunch
and just run out the door.
So, security sees us at one point,
takes us downstairs.
And he says,
"What the fuck are you guys doing?!"
We're like, "We didn't do anything."
And then he looks at the bulge
in my friend's pants,
and he goes, "What have you got in there?"
Again, I knew my friend had a big dick,
so it didn't surprise me
that the security guard thought he had
a couple of Chewbaccas and a Vader.
I got it.
He looked at my shorts
and knew there were no stolen figures.
Maybe a Yoda.
So, my friend's like,
"I don't have anything."
And the security guard goes, "Let me see."
So, my friend pulls his shorts aside,
and this gift of a cock rolls out.
Have you ever seen a cock roll out?
It was like watching
time-lapse photography of a flower.
It was like watching a cinnamon bun
in reverse, on how it's made.
It actually made, like, a little noise.
I'm trying to remember the noise it made
when it hit the chair,
'cause it was a plastic chair.
Have you heard a ham dropped on linoleum?
And it's a surreal moment in my childhood.
We were all just kind of looking
at my friend's big stupid dick.
And then the security guard looks at me,
and he goes, "Wait outside."
Sends me outside. So, I'm outside
the security office 15 minutes.
He comes out, puts his head out the door,
doesn't even open it all the way.
He goes, "All right,
I've decided not to call your mother.
Now get the fuck out of here
and don't come back.
I gotta talk to your friend for a while."
And he closes the door.
I walk out that side door.
I wipe it from my memory.
Something sparks it this year,
and the whole day comes flooding back,
and I'm like, "Oh, no. Oh, you idiot.
You never got the rest
of those Star Wars figures."
Thousands of dollars' worth
of merchandise.
And I never would've got caught
'cause the security guard was busy choking
on my friend's giant dick.
So, that's the type of stuff I talk about,
and I wonder why I can't find a gal.
I wouldn't mind a girlfriend
at this point.
I really have been single for five years,
and at this point, I don't even know
where to go to meet women.
I sincerely don't.
I don't know what women want.
We all think we know.
You know, dressing a certain way.
Obviously, I'm not a great dresser.
Do you like my shoes, by the way?
[cheers and applause]
Yeah! Yeah.
I mean, someone told me
these Yeezys are fake.
I don't think they're fake,
'cause if they are,
somebody owes me 20 bucks.
I don't even what women want.
What do women--
I'll ask you as women,
what is it you look for in a guy?
-[woman] Humor.
-Humor. Okay.
I'll address this myth.
I think women think they're supposed
to say "humor."
"I love a funny guy." No, you don't.
No, you don't. 'Cause if you asked me,
"What kind of women do you like?"
I'll be like, "Intelligent."
It's nice, but it's not number one
on the list.
Believe me,
if you have fat enough nipples,
I don't care if you eat paint chips
for breakfast...
and fucking bang your head
into a screen door
like Rain Man when the toast is burning.
But sense of humor--
Like, I'm a funny guy.
Being a funny guy
has never, ever helped me get laid.
Here's the only time
that being funny has helped me get laid:
When a woman's only other option
is a guy who looks like me
who isn't funny.
Then it will kind of get you the nod.
Like, "All right."
It's never enthusiastic.
Like, "Oh, my God. You're really--"
[grunting]
It's always a kind of a default.
It's never overcome good looks.
No one's ever looked at me and went,
"Ah, I don't know.
That guy's six-foot-three.
He's got a great body. He's a triathlete.
But the little fella--
his anecdotes will have me in stitches
the entire evening.
Come on, big boy.
Slam your face into my pussy
and do some knock-knock jokes."
And I'm a good guy to date
'cause I'm a dirty guy.
I figure women would like a guy like me.
Like, I love giving oral sex
to women more than I like anything.
And I like-- I mean, immediately.
I go right down there.
And I like things on women
that you don't even like on yourselves.
Every special,
I talk about liking a bigger pussy.
I like an untraditional vagina.
A cock. No, I'm kidding.
I like the type of vagina
that a woman is self-conscious about.
You remember in high school, if you had
to keep your crotch in the locker
'cause all the other girls were cruel
and they'd walk by--
"Hey, it's Big Pussy McGillicuddy"
or whatever they'd say.
And I've learned a lot about what's sexy
and what's not sexy.
Don't talk when you're going down
on a woman.
There's nothing sexy you're gonna say
when you're giving her head.
If a girl's going down on you and she's
like, "I love sucking your cock,"
that's kind of sexy to hear.
But there's nothing you're gonna say
when you're going down on a woman
that's gonna make her happier
than what you're doing.
I had a girl tell me that one time
her boyfriend was eating her pussy,
and he stopped, and he looked up
and he went, "Mmm. You taste scrumptious."
It's actually sexier
when you're eating pussy
if you look up and go,
"ISIS beheads people."
One thing I hate: I hate using my fingers.
That's the only thing I don't like,
when a girl's like,
"Put your fingers in me."
'Cause I have little hands,
and every time I put my fingers in,
I never quite get to where--
I just barely can touch the bottom
of the G-spot.
And they're always like,
"A little deeper."
"But the webbing."
[groaning]
I gotta take my left arm
and push the right one.
[groaning]
And one of my closest friends
was Patrice O'Neal.
You know Patrice.
[cheers and applause]
And it's funny. Patrice would annoy me,
'cause he would always brag
about how great he was at finger-popping.
But Patrice would always brag
about finger-popping,
and I watched him one time in Brazil
make a girl squirt using his fingers.
'Cause Patrice had fingers
like ballerina legs.
I was in one bed with my girl.
He was in one with his.
And he was like, whap, whap, whap,
and she would squirt.
[squirting sound]
And then my girl is squirting,
but out of her eyes,
watching the other--
And I'm doing the best I can,
but I just couldn't--
My fingers were like two polio legs
in a swimming pool.
The girl finally got annoyed
and just pushed my hand out.
"All right, Peter Dinklage fingers.
Fucking--"
I really don't know where
to meet the women.
After that bit,
I don't expect to meet a lot of you.
I'm on the social media apps.
I use Tinder. Anybody else use Tinder?
[woman] Whoo!
The woman who said "whoo,"
how long did it take you to meet somebody?
-Just yell out the number.
-I'm married.
You're married. Oh, good.
So, your parents fucked missionary,
you're married.
Great. I'm ruining a lot of lives tonight.
Now, was this before your husband,
or is this how you met him?
[nervously] After.
[crowd] Whoa!
After. Hmm.
I fucking love that.
"Who are you talking to?"
"It's a buddy, see? Ahh."
I am on Tinder.
And I'm sure most of you know what it is.
You upload photos,
you swipe "like" or "nope,"
and if you have a match,
you can talk to that person.
And before you do it, you have to set
the parameters you want to search,
the distance.
I live here in New York, in Midtown,
so I set it to search a three-mile radius.
And you gotta set the age range.
I'm in my 40s, so I set it for 18.
That's as far left as it would go.
Heh heh heh.
I actually called Tinder to complain.
"There's something wrong with your app,
goddamn it. It keeps getting stuck on 18.
Oh, legal stuff. No, I'm just getting--
Norton, yeah."
It's very addicting. We always say,
"Oh, there's nobody single,"
but you realize
when you get on an app like that,
there are so many beautiful single women.
I was swiping for hours. Like, like, like.
I didn't swipe "nope" on any--
I didn't give a shit what you looked like.
A little, teeny Zika virus.
Fuck it. Like.
Shotgun wound to the face.
Fuck it. I'll play with her nipples
till the ambulance gets there. Like.
I heard somebody groan at that.
It's okay to laugh.
It's not a real scenario.
You think that really happened?
A woman got shot in the face
with a shotgun
and had the wherewithal to snap a selfie?
And then I happened to go,
"Hey, what are you up to?"
"Bleeding to death in the hallway."
"Well, how about I tweak those nips
till help arrives?"
But I was on for three days,
swiping for hours,
getting no responses,
and that's a gut-punch
to your self-esteem.
I'm like,
"I'm a worthless piece of shit."
But then I'm like, "No, maybe I just
didn't put broad enough options."
I only set it for three square miles.
Midtown New York--
what is that, 1.8 million people?
So, I kind of opened up my search options.
Maximum age, maximum distance.
I pretty much set it for,
if you have a pussy in North America,
or hope to someday...
I finally got a Tinder match,
and I'm actually going to read
the interaction to you.
I was talking to this girl.
It was going really, really well.
Talking to her for five days,
back and forth, every day.
"Hey, good morning. How are you?"
On the fifth day, I finally said to her,
"I'm really enjoying speaking to you.
I'd love to talk on the phone.
Can I have your number?"
Nothing. No response.
Absolutely ghosted me.
So, four days later, I write back,
"I guess that's a no. LOL."
You know.
Laughing out loud,
just to keep it good-natured and fun.
She responds,
"To be perfectly honest,
I googled you."
I don't know what your lives are like,
but when you're Jim Norton,
that's the last thing you want to read.
"I googled you."
"Cosby Hitler" has better Google results
than "Jim Norton."
"I googled you and was watching
a video of you talking
about sending photos of your penis
to a girl.
I didn't know if it was a good idea
to give you my number.
So sorry. Just trying to be honest."
[groans]
I felt awful. I had no idea what to write.
I just wrote back, "Cunt.
LOL."
Thank you guys very much.
You were amazing.
I appreciate you being here.
[cheers and applause]
Thank you guys very much for coming out.
[music playing]
The world today
Is such a wicked place
Fighting going on
Between the human race...
What should I do?
Left hand now, like this?
Yeah, really give it to me.
Okay. Say it with conviction,
you ugly slug.
And then I start--
Then I slap you again. I'm all right.
-Okay, so, the left one.
-Yeah.
And then slap. Then, "Say it
with conviction, you ugly slug,"
-and then again.
-Yeah.
Ay-ay-ay. Okay.
All right, do it--
...they say is very high
First of all,
thank you so much for doing this.
I know you're busy.
I was kind of embarrassed to ask you.
What do you need, exactly?
Because I'm--
Um, I want you to--
-You're gonna look into the camera.
-Right.
Get the audience really psyched up
to see me, a nice introduction.
Just get them really juiced
to have me coming out.
What about: "Ladies and gentlemen,
you are in the for the night
of your lives.
This next comedian makes Jerry Seinfeld
and Chris Rock look like rubbish.
George Carlin and Richard Pryor were shit
compared to him.
Please welcome the greatest comedian
in the world: Jim Norton."
Nah, it's just too much.
It's a little over the top.
-Is it?
-Yeah, too much.
-Oh.
-Kind of hard to believe all that.
Well, yeah. I was trying to big you up.
So...
Something a little bit less
pressure-inducing.
Right, okay. You don't want pressure.
I'm sorry.
I didn't realize you didn't want pressure
when doing a special on Netflix
that's gonna be seen
by millions of people.
But you don't want pressure.
-It should feel honest.
-Honest?
-Honest is important.
-Okay. Honest. Yeah, honest.
What about: "Please give it up
for the dirty, disgusting,
depraved little peeled turtle with AIDS,
the king of cum-guzzling himself,
Mr. Jim Norton."
-Too honest?
-Yeah? Sorry.
[sighs]
Hey, buddy. I've got a favor to ask you.
I'm shooting a special, and I'm looking
for someone to introduce me,
and I would love it to be you.
You'd just kind of say something nice
about me and bring me onstage.
If that would--
Look, I appreciate you doing this,
but it just doesn't seem
like you really mean any of it.
You don't believe what I just said?
Ladies and gentlemen, coming up
to the stage sometime soon,
in a little while, is Jim Norton.
-See? Right there. It's no good.
-What do you mean?
You don't sound like you mean it.
You've got to say it with conviction.
You're telling me how to deliver lines?
Your goal here is to get people
really happy and excited to see me.
I'm an actor. I'm not a fucking magician.
You don't like the way I did that? Huh?
I didn't say I didn't like it.
Stop being so nervous.
Do it again,
you fucking nervous little prick.
Go ahead, do it again.
-Your motivation should be--
-My motivation?
Should be--
Now say it again with conviction,
you ugly little slug.
Your motivation should be--
You dirty, nervous prick!
Jimmy, come on! You can do it!
Ladies and gentlemen,
do me a fucking favor
and please welcome Jim Norton!
-[audience cheering and applauding]
-[rock music playing]
The world today
Is such a wicked place
Fighting going on
Between the human race...
Thank you.
Thank you very much for coming.
I really appreciate you being here.
How about that?
[audience cheering]
Robert De Niro spanked my bare ass.
I was sick the day we shot that,
and my whole fear, I was like,
"Please, don't shit on his hand.
Don't shit on his hand."
Look, I have a decent comedy career.
I'm doing stand-up over 20 years.
I'm not mainstream famous, obviously.
Kevin Hart is mainstream famous.
I have the type of fame where people
will see me, and they kind of--
Sometimes they know
they've seen me somewhere,
but they're not sure where.
It's never attractive women.
Even if they know me, they don't say it,
'cause they're not sure.
"Did I see him on stage somewhere,
or did he follow me home?"
I always have that--
"Did I see him on Louie
or in my bushes?"
But I don't know what you know
about comedians,
but there's nothing we hate more
than some random guy going,
"Dude, where do I know you from?"
The last thing I want to say is,
"I'm a comedian.
Oh, don't pick on me.
I'm gonna use you in my act, buster.
Come on, let's sit down."
It's repulsive. So, whenever someone says,
"Where do I know you from,"
I'll usually go,
"I think I sucked your dick.
You like it down to the root, right?
You like it down to the root?
Two fingers in the ass,
thumb on the balls. I know you.
Don't get mad, dude. I thought it was you.
Maybe it was your dad.
He looked like you. I apologize.
Don't get mad.
You tell me, do I look familiar?"
I feel so good.
I'm happy to be shooting in New York.
It's nice to be back home.
And I feel rested. I'm always tired.
I fell asleep last night, got eight hours,
had an amazing dream that Kim Kardashian
was sitting on my face
and just grinding.
Well, but then I woke up and realized
my nose was just stuffy.
I like a fat ass
more than a white guy is supposed to.
Black guys are supposed to like fat asses,
but I really like a big, fat ass.
But I tend to date small women.
So, it's awful when I see a big, fat ass
if I'm with a small girl,
and they're like, "That's disgusting."
Then I have to kind of sell out.
"Yeah, it's terrible.
Oh, that would feel awful,
those birthing hips.
I'd hate to hold onto those and slide in.
Ugh!
Oh, her pussy would probably grip you
like the mouth in Aliens.
Oh, disgusting!
How awful,
that soft flesh bouncing back against you.
I like your skeletal hips.
That's what I like, your skeletal--
Ass like a leukemia patient.
That's what turns me on.
Oh, I love it when you turn around
and go..."
[coughs]
I got into a fight recently.
I don't fight a lot.
I'm not a big guy,
so I really don't fight very much.
But I have a big mouth.
I won my fight, though.
I actually won the fight that I got into.
It was a guy.
He was a little drunk, I think.
He was in a store,
and I just overheard him,
and I couldn't help myself.
He had a fedora on.
And he's talking to the salesgirl,
and he's like, "What do you think
I should wear with this?"
And I said, "A rope."
Which is actually
very sound fashion advice.
But he grabbed my shirt.
That's why I think he was drunk.
He grabbed my shirt, and he's like,
"What did you say?"
And I was like, "I'm gonna cum."
Then he gave up immediately.
Too late, unfortunately.
Guys are so homophobic.
It's really funny to me.
We use a homophobic thing
to make each other uncomfortable,
to dominate each other
when we're growing up.
You remember ten or 11 years old,
you'd be sitting at your friend's house,
watching TV in the living room,
and then he'd just walk in out of nowhere
and start humping the side of your face?
Remember?
I still do shit like that.
It's still fun to fuck with your friends.
I walked into a public restroom,
and a buddy of mine was at the urinal,
and you gotta do something
when your friend's at the urinal.
You just gotta fuck with him a little bit.
He didn't hear me walk in,
so I snuck up behind him very quietly
and I stood about an inch behind him,
and then I put my mouth right behind
his neck hair, and I just went...
[deep voice]
"Hey!"
And he freaked out,
and it wasn't my friend.
Yet.
Do you know how hard that is
to explain to a stranger,
why you just spoke onto his neck?
Oh, man. I feel great.
I feel really, really good.
Life has just been good lately.
And it's so funny,
'cause you find things you like
as you get older.
I'm in my 40's now, so you find shit
that makes you feel good.
Like, I have a hatred
of somebody telling me a story,
and at one point in the story, you know
how they ask you to guess at part of--
It's usually because the story is shit,
and they think that your guess
will propel their story into interesting.
They'll say, "Guess how many?"
Then you guess the number,
and then they tell you the real number,
and you're like, "Holy shit!
I should've guessed--"
I've begun over-guessing on purpose
just to totally destroy the momentum
of the story.
Once you do it, you'll never not do it.
And I know I'm a piece of shit
for robbing little victories
from all my friends.
Fuck them. Their stories are terrible.
My manager Jonathan-- I love him,
but he does this to me all the time.
He bought a watch,
and he paid 1,500 bucks for the watch.
And if he had just said, "I paid 1,500
for this watch, but it's worth 2,000,"
I would've been impressed.
I would've been like,
"Oh, cool, you saved 500 bucks."
But he tried to have,
like, a "holy shit" moment with it.
He's like,
"Dude, I paid 1,500 for this watch.
Guess how much it's worth."
"I don't know.
A hundred-and-thirty-thousand?"
And I'm still giddy at the memory
of that stupid fucking smile
melting off his face.
'Cause now his real number
has no impact whatsoever.
Like, I guessed 130,000.
He can't go, "No. 2,000."
"Oh, hey,
that's a heck of a savings, too!"
Fucking shoot yourself.
Your story was terrible.
And I started doing it--
It's weird. I begun--
The joy of over-guessing,
I discovered by accident.
I was trying to do the right thing.
A friend of mine is really fat.
Wouldn't it be great
if I just left it right there?
"A friend of mine is fat"
and moved on to something else.
Like, that was just me talking to him.
"You know who you are."
A friend of mine is really fat.
He started losing weight, which was great,
but instead of just letting
somebody notice it,
he told us that he lost weight,
which was kind of awkward
'cause it wasn't really noticeable yet.
He's like, "Dude, I lost some weight."
In my mind, I'm like, "Allegedly."
I didn't see evidence of that at all.
But then he puts me on the spot.
He's like, "Guess how many pounds."
And I don't want to be a scumbag.
"Uh, point..."
So, in an effort to be nice,
I over-guessed. I was like, "50?"
He was like, "No. Six."
And I realized that by over-guessing,
I had totally robbed him of that moment
and made him feel horrible.
And it made me so fucking happy.
I feel so good.
I don't know how to handle feeling--
I don't know how to live feeling good.
I'm so not used to it.
I go through my depression, though,
like everybody else.
I go through my feeling like shit.
You ever get suicidal thoughts? Anybody?
[man] Oh, yeah.
That was a very fast--
Whenever you say "suicidal thoughts,"
you never want the answer
to be that quick.
"Yes!"
Hope you're not on a first date.
That's the wrong time.
"I've wanted to kill myself
and everyone else in the theater."
Oh, good. That's--
But it's weird how sneaky it is
and how it hits you out of nowhere.
You're not prepared for it.
Things are great, then all of a sudden,
your voice, like--
"You forgot to hang yourself."
"What?"
I'm not trying to bum everybody out.
It goes away in six months.
And I don't want to kill myself,
but I've kind of come
to a peaceful conclusion,
that if I ever do decide to kill myself,
I'm gonna go out in style.
And before I do it, I want to write a note
blaming someone I hardly know.
How hilarious would that be, just to wreck
somebody's life for no reason whatsoever?
But it's got to be totally random.
Pick some guy at work
you've talked to once in eight years.
Not even a guy from your department.
Just make it, you know--
"Murray in Human Resources
will know what this is about."
And fucking hang yourself.
For the rest of his life, Murray will be
all fucked up and socially awkward.
"I don't know.
I said hi to the guy once in 2014."
I'm a terrible liar.
I'm a very, very bad liar.
And I wish I was better,
'cause it's hard for me
to be good in relationships.
So, the fact is,
I just give myself away when I'm lying.
I always feel like it's obvious.
Some guys are literally masters of lying.
Your girl could walk in
and catch you fucking one of her friends.
"What are you doing?"
"She fell, baby. I was picking her up."
Just so smooth.
And I admire your ability to do that,
because I just-- my eyes get wide.
I sound like an actor from the 1940s
if I'm texting the wrong person.
"Who is that?"
"It's a buddy, see? Ahh."
Fucking throw the phone into the tub.
"Nothing to see there, chum. Ahh."
Have you ever been such a bad liar
that you try to lie
by just telling the truth
with a sarcastic inflection in your voice,
'cause it feels less like a lie?
Like, if your girlfriend knows
you cheated on her.
"Did you have sex with her?"
"Yeah!
Oh, yeah, yeah. I fucked her twice
while you were in the hospital."
That reads pretty honest in a transcript.
My ex-girlfriend caught me.
I got busted so badly.
Has anybody ever gotten busted talking
to someone you shouldn't be?
Because it's in black-and-white--
Here's what it was.
One morning, I was having
a nasty conversation with a girl,
who I had met one time.
And that's what we do now
in the digital era.
You talk to people who you probably
wouldn't talk to before,
because you can just do it
on your cell phone.
And it was one of those three-hour,
lathered-up, fucking filthy--
I was offering her $500 to come over
and stick her feet in my mouth.
Which, you know, obviously,
I would never do that.
Three-fifty is the cutoff
for foot worship. Everybody knows that.
But I was talking to this girl Maria.
And again, we'd never hung out.
We'd only met one time.
But it was a three-hour--
I was so finished.
I just jerked off and fell asleep.
I didn't even clean up
until the next morning.
Literally, I sounded like a Fruit Roll-Up
when I was pulling my--
[tearing sound]
This is 2011.
I remember this like it was yesterday,
'cause my girlfriend at the time walked
into the bedroom,
and she goes, "Get up, Jim."
You know how you know you're fucked
for some--
The tone of voice implies
this is not gonna be great news.
"Get up, Jim." I'm like, "What?"
I don't know why that was my impression
of myself waking up.
"Wha--" I don't talk like that.
See, I overact, even in real life.
[mumbling]
"Wha--"
I'm like, "What?" And she says,
"I know about your fucking conversation
with Maria last night."
And I'm a little freaked out,
but I look over,
and my phone is exactly where I left it
the night before.
I'm like, "I don't know
what you're talking about."
She's like, "$500 to lick her feet,
you piece of shit?"
So, now I know she knows.
Either that or she's an amazing guesser.
But I wish I would've improv'd
that line I did before:
"Hey, I wouldn't go over 350
for foot worship."
Ha ha! Elbowed her.
Ohh, we'd have made love.
But I knew I was caught somehow.
I didn't know how she knew.
But you know how it is
when you get caught.
I'm just like, "I'm sorry.
I'm a sex addict. I don't know."
There's no way to fish for information
when you're trying
to save your relationship.
I couldn't go, "Baby, I love you.
How did you know, for future reference?"
Here's how she knew.
She told me how she knew.
'Cause none of us are as smart
as we think we are.
None of us understand the technology
as well as we think we do.
And we're all on Wi-Fi,
and all the devices are connected.
And I was in this chat,
and I'm lathered up.
I only have one hand to use on the phone,
obviously.
I hit the wrong button
and I printed the entire conversation
in the living room--
a seven-page PDF file.
Clear, too,
'cause I'd just put in fresh ink.
It was very readable.
And by a terrible coincidence,
she needed the printer the next morning,
'cause she was taking a college course
at the time.
She was very advanced for her age.
So, she takes this conversation out
of the printer,
and the paper she wrote,
and she heads off to class with this.
And this is absolutely the truth.
Thank God she didn't hand it in.
'Cause she was crazy.
I firmly believe she would've woken me up
by putting a knife in my stomach.
She would not have been--
But it would've been a funnier joke.
There's no funny part.
It would've been a much cleverer joke
if she had handed it in, and I would've--
"I got an A. She got a C. Hey-oh!"
The truth itself is not funny.
It's just sad.
The way it played out was
she read the text,
and she felt really betrayed,
and she cried.
[mock crying]
You know?
That's what I'll do.
I'll jazz it up with one of those.
"Got a lot of--" you know?
But I kind of regret it.
You've got to be so careful what you say
and what you put in text,
because this day and age, anything you do
can fucking ruin your life.
You've got to be so scared
of every text you send,
every dirty picture you send,
everything you put on Snapchat.
I mean, I'll tell you
who has struck a blow for privacy.
Hulk Hogan did more for privacy
than any shitty politician has done
in the last ten years
'cause he sued Gawker out of existence.
And that was a very big thing.
You guys know the story.
Hulk was fucking that woman.
He did not know he was being filmed.
And Gawker, I guess, put a link to it up,
and he says it ruined his life.
I think there was racist language
or something.
I guess at the time,
Brooke was dating a black guy,
and I guess Hulk was none too pleased.
And apparently he said the word "nigger"
so many times
that Dog the Bounty Hunter hung up
on him.
So, WWE fired him,
and he said it ruined his life.
But I'll be honest.
I'm a bigger Hulk Hogan fan now
than I've never been.
Did you see the cock on Hulk Hogan?
I ran out and bought
a little yellow headband.
I'm a Hulkamaniac.
Jesus Christ. I never understood
why that stupid leg drop
was such an effective finishing move.
But now I'm just amazed nobody was killed
with that Civil War cannon strapped
to his leg.
"I'm gonna rip your asshole apart,
brother!"
Thank you. That's my Hulk Hogan.
That's what you do when you can't do
an impression as a comedian.
You just jazz it up by moving funny.
You like Christopher Walken?
"Oh! You know, my watch. Ow!"
You name a person, I'll do him.
I don't care. I do good.
I thought you were gonna name somebody.
Okay.
[woman] Oprah!
Oprah? Worst guess ever.
You got to watch it. I was bummed
I fucked up that relationship,
because that girl, she was dirty, man.
She would, like, lick my ass.
She was a trooper.
Every guy likes their ass eaten.
Let's not pretend that I'm the only one
who likes their ass licked.
Here's why that did not get
the rousing round of applause
that ass-eating does deserve.
Literally--
No, you don't have to do it now.
But whenever someone mentions ass-eating,
here's what people ought to do:
"Hold on. Let me put my drink down
and applaud for the idea of ass-eating."
[scattered applause]
No, no, no.
Hey. Easy.
She would eat my ass, and she would--
Look, here's the thing
with getting your ass licked.
It's--
It's embarrassing to ask for.
There's nothing worse than asking
for something
and having a girl go, "No."
Then you're ashamed of liking it.
If you want a girl to suck your dick,
you might go, "Come on, suck my dick."
And if she says no, then you can
kind of coax her a little bit.
Like, "Come on, suck my dick.
Eh? How about it?"
But it's embarrassing if you're like,
"Come on, just lick my ass a little bit."
"No."
"Come on, what are you doing?
Just get back there and eat it.
Part the hair with a comb
and slam your face in there.
What are you doing?
You're gonna feel like you're kissing
the scalp of a marathon runner.
Get in there, you silly goose."
So, you gotta kind of hint at it.
'Cause you can't be ashamed
about something if you're hinting.
So, say your girlfriend
is sucking your dick,
and she pops it out
and she's, like, licking the back.
Exaggeration, obviously.
What do you want, truth in comedy?
All right, so, she's licking the--
"What is he doing?
Is he sealing an envelope
or rolling a joint?
I don't understand."
But if you hint at something,
there's no shame in it
'cause they can't reject it.
So, if your girlfriend is giving you head,
you start raising your hips...
just a little bit. And moaning.
Get a little help, like...
[moaning]
Your balls will slowly drag over her face
like a street sweeper.
Then they're finally just sitting
on her forehead.
She looks like Tiberius Caesar.
She's like, "All right, I get it.
You want your ass licked. Got it."
And then they always do
that little tester lick on your asshole.
Just a little...
You ever lick an asshole?
It's like testing a battery.
And I'm gonna brag a little.
My asshole passes with flying colors.
My asshole is like two immaculate,
hairless peach halves.
And that's exactly how I describe it
on PlentyOfFish.
"Two immaculate, hairless peach halves,
just meant for nuzzling."
But I'm a dirty guy. I'm a dirty person.
And it's funny.
My whole career-- for those of you
who are familiar with me--
I've always said, "I'm a pervert."
But I'm not a pervert.
'Cause a pervert implies
you like a victim,
or you like tricking people.
And I realized that recently.
I don't like anybody vulnerable in sex.
I don't like drunk girls.
I don't like underage girls.
I don't have sex with children.
And I don't why more men
don't talk about that.
That's my best quality.
I don't like virgins. I don't like women
who've only been with a couple of guys,
'cause then it means too much to them,
and I know I'm kind of a piece of shit.
So, I don't want a girl to look at me
with puppy love,
just kissing it like,
"You're so special.
Do you love me, too?
Oh, my God. I'm so happy."
I want a girl to look at my dick and go,
"Ugh, I wish it was black,"
and then blow a snot rocket on it.
Jared Fogle is a pervert.
How do you fuck up the Subway endorsement?
Jared's whole job was
to hold up those big, fat-fuck pants.
That was his job.
All he had to do to stay really rich:
Don't get fat, don't fuck kids.
How hard is that?
I could do that in my sleep.
If you just it say to yourself
on the way out the door--
"Don't get fat and don't fuck kids.
Don't get fat...
don't fuck kids.
Don't get fat, don't fuck kids."
But it's amazing how many people--
you realize their sexual behavior
is so fucked up.
Obviously, Cosby.
I love his new excuse now.
"I couldn't have committed those rapes.
I'm blind now."
Oh, that's how it works.
And I feel really bad for his wife,
Nelson Mandela.
Jesus.
But you knew Cosby was guilty
when Oprah--
Oprah. You got me on fucking Oprah.
You knew Cosby was guilty when
Whoopi Goldberg stopped defending him.
Whoopi defended him for years,
and then finally she had to--
But first of all,
what happened to Whoopi Goldberg?
She looks like KRS-One now.
What the fuck happened to her?
And a lot of those women--
Here's what tells you that he did it.
A lot of those women
were in their 70s,
and 70-year-old women just don't lie
about rape.
I'm not saying that young women are liars,
but women that old
don't ever talk about sex.
They don't lie about sex.
Seventy-year-old women lie
about other shit.
"My grandson called."
"Fuck you, liar. No, he didn't.
It was a wrong number, and you kept him
on the phone for an hour and a half.
You lying old bag!"
But you try to find something good
in everything.
And the wonderful thing
about that relationship ending
was that it forced me
to start working out
'cause I knew I was gonna have
to meet women again.
And I lost a lot of weight.
Has anybody lost weight
in the last few years?
How much weight did you lose?
[man] I lost 100 pounds.
I lost 100 pounds.
What? You lost 100 pounds?
Jeez. What, did you drown your girlfriend?
What happened?
-How'd you lose 100 pounds?
-I don't work out. I just--
You don't work out? Come on.
You mean that's natural?
That's like me saying,
"I don't play center for the Lakers."
No shit, stupid.
When you start losing weight,
here's the thing.
A hundred pounds, congratulations.
That's awesome.
Oh, yeah. Give him a hand.
The weird thing is,
I lost about 30 pounds over the years,
and when you start losing weight,
the first five or six or ten pounds,
people are like, "Wow, you look great."
But after you lose, like, 15 pounds,
people don't know how to respond.
Twenty pounds, they're like,
"Uh...
have you been dieting,
or did Charlie Sheen bleed in your mouth?"
Is it okay to joke about Charlie?
Was anybody shocked when he announced
he was HIV-positive? No.
I like Charlie Sheen,
but that's how you know
you've lived a pretty AIDSy life...
when you're that famous
and you're like, "I'm HIV-positive,"
and the whole country is like,
"Well, yeah, I hope so."
For Pete's sake.
I gotta be honest.
Charlie's HIV diagnosis really scared me.
It really shook me because--
I don't know Charlie.
We've never met, never hung out.
But it just kind of rocked me,
and I started thinking
about my sexual behavior.
Even though we've never met,
Charlie and I have had sex
with, I think, four of the same people.
And there's only one
I can mention publicly
because she and I
have discussed it publicly,
and I don't ever want to out people.
But for many years on the radio,
we would interview Bree Olson.
Bree would come in.
If you don't know Bree,
she's a beautiful blond porn star.
She's fun. She's really sexy,
and whenever she was on our show,
she'd always flirt with me.
She'd always be like, "I like you.
You're really cute."
And I was always like,
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
'Cause I thought she was just doing it
for the radio.
She's probably thinking,
"This guy is blowing me off,"
but meanwhile, I just have no self-esteem.
I'm just like, "Oh, come on."
She thinks I'm too cool for the room.
Meanwhile, I feel like the Elephant Man
when he has the tuxedo on
in front of British high society.
[slurring] "Everybody's been so kind!"
But one day, her publicist says to me,
"No, Bree actually likes you.
She's not joking."
And whatever cool, detached attitude
I had built up evaporated.
I was at Bree's hotel
in less than an hour. Like, really--
"Hi!"
This close to the fucking,
you know... peephole.
You think my face is unpleasant now?
Look at it through the hole.
It's just a fucking...
stupid half a moon.
And we fucked. And I gotta be honest.
It's one of the most earthshattering
sexual experiences I've ever had.
It was beautiful.
And I don't think
that she enjoyed it as much...
'cause she would never do it again.
I tried for years to make it happen again.
I would text her, "What are you doing?"
She'd write back,
"Anything but fucking you."
It just was--
I think I blew it. Let me ask you,
is it a turn-off to say "I love you"
too quickly?
All right, let me ask the women.
Is it a turn-off
if the first time you fuck a guy,
as he's putting it in,
he's mumbling,
"I love you, I love you, I love you,"
and crying onto your face?
Is that a turn-off?
And I was talking to a buddy of mine.
He was like, "Did you wear a condom?"
I'm like, "What a cute question.
No, stupid. I didn't.
When you're getting into a Lamborghini,
you don't put on a body bag, do you?"
I wouldn't have worn a condom
if I looked into her pussy
and saw Magic Johnson waving up at me.
So, then, you fast-forward.
We have sex. She goes out to LA.
She dates Charlie Sheen at one point.
Then all of a sudden, Charlie comes out
and announces he's HIV-positive.
So, I just backtracked a little bit.
I'm like, "Oh, no,
did I get the whole ball rolling?
Oh, no, I gave AIDS
to the guy from Platoon.
I'm a piece of shit."
But luckily, Bree Olson has been tested
multiple times.
She does not have HIV.
She is totally negative,
which means I'm HIV-negative.
Yeah, that's how I take an AIDS test.
I'm too freaked out to go to the doctor,
so I just fuck a girl
and then see her in a year,
and, you know--
"Hey, how are you?"
"I'm great." "Makes two of us."
She had the strength to smile.
That's six more months of no rubbers
for the kid.
And it's hard for me to meet people,
to be really honest with you,
because I've talked about myself
so much publicly.
People know so many things about me,
and none of it's a secret.
Anybody familiar with me
knows I like transgender girls.
That's not new information.
And if it is, well, now you have it.
But it's so funny.
The whole country is, like, trans-crazy,
and we're really obsessed with it,
and it's so funny how
when the new thing happens
or becomes in the lexicon,
you can't joke about it on TV.
I tried to do a Caitlyn Jenner joke,
and the network said,
"Oh, no transition jokes."
I'm like, "It's not even a mean joke."
They're like,
"Yeah, but we just don't like it.
They've been marginalized."
I'm like, "Look, just 'cause
you've been marginalized
doesn't mean that you're removed
from the humor spectrum
like everybody else."
It wasn't even a mean joke. First of all,
the network canceled her reality show.
How shitty is your reality show
when you were on a Wheaties box,
you're now a woman,
you were a Kardashian,
you killed somebody driving,
and the network goes, "It's boring.
There's nothing happening to talk about"?
And I think Hollywood means well.
Their hearts are in the right place.
But it's a little bit phony.
Some of it is just a little bit fake.
You know how they can't talk about Caitlyn
without saying how beautiful she is?
"Have you seen how beautiful Caitlyn is?"
No.
She looks like the gypsy from Thinner.
But it's so funny.
Not one of these freethinking,
progressive celebrities
who always use the right pronoun,
not one of them has admitted to having sex
with a transgender girl,
to watching trans porn,
to being attracted to trans women.
Not one of them. That's being supportive.
Don't tell me what words to use.
You want to support a young lady?
You lift her skirt, you suck her cock.
That's how you say, "I'm with you."
Don't tell me what to joke about until
you've laid in bed with a sore asshole,
mumbling, "Who am I?"
You ever brush your teeth
and scream "faggot" in the mirror
for a half hour?
I have.
And I know why they won't talk about it.
I know why they won't admit it.
'Cause they don't know
if it makes you gay.
"If I have sex with a trans girl,
does that make--"
It does not make you gay
to have sex with a trans girl.
But even if it did, I would tell you.
I wouldn't care.
But I understand
why certain people think it does.
We can't be so pro-trans
or politically correct
that we forget that differing opinions
are gonna pop up.
An open and honest conversation
doesn't mean
that you just shut down somebody
when they say unpleasant shit.
I get why some guys think it's gay.
But it's just not. Until you've done it--
Like, when you kiss,
it's a feminine energy.
It's not a masculine energy,
or it wouldn't turn me on.
The breasts are normally fake,
but so what?
Every stripper I ever fell in love with
had fake tits.
That never turned me off. I never
threw a girl out of the Champagne Room.
"Beat it with your augmented bosoms,
madam!"
You know, then the skirt comes up.
All right.
It's a large clitoris.
But what, am I gonna be rude to my guest?
Get over here.
[grunting]
[popping sounds]
Just look at the breasts, that's all.
If you're new to the game,
look at the breasts.
"Oh, I love her so much. I love her."
If it's your first time at the rodeo,
don't look at the feet.
That'll put the whammy on you.
"Oh, no, those feet scored 13 points
in the fourth quarter.
I'm fucking gay."
[grunting]
And it's funny, too-- I've talked
to a lot of trans girls about--
One girl told me that,
just to feel feminine as a kid,
she used to wear her mother's underwear.
Whew.
That one affected me.
I mean, your mother's underpants.
I don't care what gender you are.
Is there a worse item in the house...
than your mother's underpants?
I wouldn't touch my mother's underpants
if she was hanging off a bridge
by her underpants.
I'd probably just blow her a kiss
and then step on her fucking fingers.
Did you ever see your mom's panties
on the floor?
You gotta take a stick
and knock them under the dresser.
Can you imagine putting those on?
I'd rather wear my father's used condom
on my nose like an aardvark.
I saw one pair of my mom's panties
when I was a kid.
Thank God they weren't sexy at all.
I feel bad for any kid
that has the hot mom
who all his friends want to fuck.
We all had that one friend,
everyone wanted to fuck his mother.
And that's gotta be awful
to find your mom's panties,
and it's just a pair of boy shorts
with a little arrow in the back.
Like, "Ugh.
Oh, no. Mom's a three-holer."
My mom's panties were awful.
They started at the middle of the chest.
They ended right above the knee.
It looked like an androgynous bathing suit
on Boardwalk Empire.
That's what you want your mother--
If you see your mother in her panties,
you want to start thinking,
" Hello, my ragtime gal "
You don't want to think
about your parents sexually at all.
You know your parents fuck
because we're all alive,
so we're evidence of it.
But my parents told me,
like, when I asked about it,
they said, "We just made love
because we wanted to create you
and we wanted to create your sister Tracy.
That's the only reason."
So, they made it look like it was purely
something they suffered through
to make me.
That's how all of you look
at your parents.
You don't even want to think
about your mother
kind of drunk on the bed going,
"Come on, hurry up!"
And your father going,
"You're not even wet yet!"
And her going,
"That's my asshole, stupid!"
And he's not hard.
He's got paintbrush dick.
You don't want to think about your father
with paintbrush dick.
Looks like a snail
trying to break into an aquarium.
You don't want to picture your mother
going, "Hold on.
Hurry up."
I'll give you all a second
to insert your parents into that thought,
like I have to do every time I tell
that fucking stupid joke.
But it's so funny how we just don't think
of them that way.
And I grew up in a pretty conservative--
I don't know how I turned
into such a monster
growing up in a conservative house.
Did anybody have
kind of open-minded parents
who would talk to you about sex?
Anybody have parents like that?
-[man] Yes.
-Who said "yes"?
You're nodding. How old were you
when your parents talked to you about sex?
-Thirteen.
-Thirteen?
-They broke it to me hard.
-They broke it to you hard?
How'd they break it to you?
They just straight up told me,
"This is how this happens. There you are."
They straight up told you, "This is
how this happens, and there you are."
And when you were 13, you didn't know--
Oh, no, what else did they tell you?
"And we're the ones who put the gifts
under the tree."
Did you ever catch them having sex?
Anybody ever catch your parents?
[woman] Oh, I did.
-There's always a couple.
-I did.
-Who's the woman who said, "I did"?
-I did.
Hello, miss.
-They talked about it to me--
-Hold on, miss.
You're panicking. I feel like--
She's been waiting 30 years
for someone to ask her,
"Did they ever talk to you about it?"
Hold on.
How old were you when you saw them?
[woman] I tried to block it out.
Are you trying to block it--
I'm just asking in general. About how old?
[woman] I don't know.
I would assume, like, ten or so.
About ten.
What were you doing at the time?
-Were you in the house?
-Yeah, I had a bad dream.
-I walked into their room.
-You had a bad dream.
Oh, Christ. Then you walked
into a nightmare. That's nice.
That's the last thing you need
after a bad dream.
"Oh, I dreamt there was a ghost
under my bed.
Oh, terrific."
Now, you walked in.
-Were they in the bedroom?
-Yeah.
-Did they know that you saw them?
-Yeah.
Yes, they did.
Did they talk to you about it after?
It was obvious. No, my dad asked me
if I wanted hot chocolate.
Your dad asked
if you wanted hot chocolate.
Oh, no. They were having anal. Oh, no.
Well, that's what you need
after you catch your parents fucking.
"Aah!" [popping sound]
"Let's have a cocoa."
Now, okay, so you had hot chocolate,
and they told you about what happened
and what it was?
No. Like, my parents--
I knew what it was when I walked in.
You knew what it was when you walked in.
Some people just don't talk about it.
It's just no eye contact
at the breakfast table until you're 18.
Like, "You want milk for your Cheerios?"
"No, I'll just fucking cut it
with a fork and knife."
I know you kind of don't want
to think about it. I understand.
What position...
were they in?
It depends, is this gonna be aired?
Are they gonna know?
Is it gonna be aired? No!
No!
No.
No.
Why would we air it on a Netflix special?
Wow. Somebody's not very observant.
What did you think that was?
Did you think that was LeBron James' arm
taking a selfie?
Yeah, so, we don't know who you are,
we don't know who your parents are.
What position?
-Oh, you're really waiting for--
-I'm really waiting. Of course I am.
Please. You think that thing
just jumped up for no reason?
It's not dripping down my leg for nothing,
sweetie.
-I don't know. Just, like, regular.
-Regular. Missionary. Okay, cool.
Were Mom's legs wrapped around Dad?
Like, was she trying to keep in that seed?
Or were the legs wide open
'cause Dad was drilling that pussy...
so hard that her legs just shot open?
Thank you very much for sharing that
with us.
It's funny, people's reaction
when they catch their parents.
I've never caught my parents, thank God,
but you kind of know
when they're doing something.
I would always know my parents
were doing something
'cause it'd be in the middle
of the afternoon
and the bedroom door would be closed,
and then you'd just hear, like...
[squeaking]
And then the telltale...
[whirring]
of the Polaroid.
[squeaks, whirs]
And you knew they were almost finished
as it started getting faster.
And then you'd hear, "My eye burns!"
[whirring]
Then your mom
and three of your dad's coworkers
would walk out of the bedroom.
But some people--
Like, we talked, some parents--
some parents are just open-minded,
and they're more liberal about it.
My buddy Scott knew where
his mother's dildo collection was.
And we did not handle that information
responsibly.
As ten-year-old kids,
as soon as his parents left the house,
we would grab the dildos,
start sword-fighting with them.
We'd try to chase him
and shove them in his mouth.
I got one shoved in my mouth.
I had to pretend I didn't like it.
"Cut it out, guys!"
[groaning]
We used to throw them at his cat...
which I wouldn't do now,
but in 1979, that was Xbox.
That was all we had.
And I wish I had an iPhone back then.
What a great video that would've been,
just a cat under a sofa
with its ears back,
hissing at a pile of dildos.
[hissing]
And his mother must've wondered
why all her dildos
had scratch marks and cat hair on them.
She'd probably grab the cat
and smack his face.
"What were you doing with my dildos?"
I don't know if my mother has dildos
to this day.
I'm in my 40s. I have no idea.
When my parents die,
I'm not going through their shit.
I'm just going to take the dresser
and kick it into the front yard.
Let the homeless people take
whatever they want.
Maybe I'll look out the window
and see a homeless guy running away
with what is hopefully
a small white dildo.
That's all you can hope for.
You definitely don't want to see one
of those over-the-shoulder jobs.
Bouncing in the front and the back.
With two heads on it. "Oh, Mom."
Or "Oh, Mom and Dad. Ohh.
Oh, no. Mom and Dad were bookending."
Yeah, they were pretty normal people.
And I turned into such a dirtbag
and a dirty guy,
and I just-- I don't know.
I was always kind of antisocial.
You ever look back at your life
and realize,
"Wow, I was a fucking antisocial
human being."
When I was 13,
I used to drink with my friends.
I stopped when I was very young,
but for the few years I did it,
I was a weirdo. Like, a real weirdo.
We used to get drunk at my friend's house,
and I wouldn't do fun drunk stuff.
I used to get drunk and then just go
into his family's bathroom
and urinate all over the sink handles
and, like, on the toothbrushes
and in the soap dish.
And here's the psychotic part.
I wouldn't even tell my other friends
I had done it.
When you're that young, no matter what
you do to make your friends laugh is okay.
But I didn't tell my friends.
I just kind of sat there,
just smirking
like a fucking serial killer,
just thinking of his family
washing their face with my piss soap.
Like, what a fucking creep.
And I've talked about this before
on the air.
The cat-- I would always take the cat,
and I would unroll his father's newspaper
and scoop all the cat shit out
of the litterbox
and put it in the newspaper
and then carefully roll it back up
and put it on the coffee table.
And to this day, I still think
I'm kind of a genius for having done that.
But I never got to see the results of it.
Like, if I had a time machine
and I could only use it once,
I wouldn't save Jesus.
I wouldn't stop World War II.
I'd go back to North Brunswick,
New Jersey, in 1979
just to watch that man
open his newspaper
and see his face as animal shit fell
on his lap.
You know how many times that cat
probably got beaten with a shoe?
And the cat can't articulate.
"Really? You think I took my own shit
and put it in a newspaper
and rolled it up carefully
like I'm fucking hosting a cat prank show,
you dummy?"
You ever have memories come flooding back?
That happens sometimes, too.
I blocked a lot of shit out
when I was young.
And this one is not even traumatic.
It was just weird.
I was with my friend,
and we were stealing Star Wars figures.
They were the original
Star Wars figures.
Remember them?
They were, like, four inches tall,
and some of them are worth thousands
of dollars today
because they're ultra-rare.
So, it was one of my best friends.
He was a really good dude.
He had a huge dick.
And we're in a department--
I'm saying that for a reason.
I'm not just throwing--
That would be great
if I didn't go back to it for any reason.
"Did he elaborate on his friend's dick?"
"No, he just threw it out there
and smiled."
He was just the guy
that we all knew had a huge dick.
So, we had on shorts and tank tops,
so we couldn't put stuff down our shorts.
So, we were taking the action figures out
of the package
and kind of walking up
to the front of the store and hiding them,
and at the end of the day,
we were gonna scoop a bunch
and just run out the door.
So, security sees us at one point,
takes us downstairs.
And he says,
"What the fuck are you guys doing?!"
We're like, "We didn't do anything."
And then he looks at the bulge
in my friend's pants,
and he goes, "What have you got in there?"
Again, I knew my friend had a big dick,
so it didn't surprise me
that the security guard thought he had
a couple of Chewbaccas and a Vader.
I got it.
He looked at my shorts
and knew there were no stolen figures.
Maybe a Yoda.
So, my friend's like,
"I don't have anything."
And the security guard goes, "Let me see."
So, my friend pulls his shorts aside,
and this gift of a cock rolls out.
Have you ever seen a cock roll out?
It was like watching
time-lapse photography of a flower.
It was like watching a cinnamon bun
in reverse, on how it's made.
It actually made, like, a little noise.
I'm trying to remember the noise it made
when it hit the chair,
'cause it was a plastic chair.
Have you heard a ham dropped on linoleum?
And it's a surreal moment in my childhood.
We were all just kind of looking
at my friend's big stupid dick.
And then the security guard looks at me,
and he goes, "Wait outside."
Sends me outside. So, I'm outside
the security office 15 minutes.
He comes out, puts his head out the door,
doesn't even open it all the way.
He goes, "All right,
I've decided not to call your mother.
Now get the fuck out of here
and don't come back.
I gotta talk to your friend for a while."
And he closes the door.
I walk out that side door.
I wipe it from my memory.
Something sparks it this year,
and the whole day comes flooding back,
and I'm like, "Oh, no. Oh, you idiot.
You never got the rest
of those Star Wars figures."
Thousands of dollars' worth
of merchandise.
And I never would've got caught
'cause the security guard was busy choking
on my friend's giant dick.
So, that's the type of stuff I talk about,
and I wonder why I can't find a gal.
I wouldn't mind a girlfriend
at this point.
I really have been single for five years,
and at this point, I don't even know
where to go to meet women.
I sincerely don't.
I don't know what women want.
We all think we know.
You know, dressing a certain way.
Obviously, I'm not a great dresser.
Do you like my shoes, by the way?
[cheers and applause]
Yeah! Yeah.
I mean, someone told me
these Yeezys are fake.
I don't think they're fake,
'cause if they are,
somebody owes me 20 bucks.
I don't even what women want.
What do women--
I'll ask you as women,
what is it you look for in a guy?
-[woman] Humor.
-Humor. Okay.
I'll address this myth.
I think women think they're supposed
to say "humor."
"I love a funny guy." No, you don't.
No, you don't. 'Cause if you asked me,
"What kind of women do you like?"
I'll be like, "Intelligent."
It's nice, but it's not number one
on the list.
Believe me,
if you have fat enough nipples,
I don't care if you eat paint chips
for breakfast...
and fucking bang your head
into a screen door
like Rain Man when the toast is burning.
But sense of humor--
Like, I'm a funny guy.
Being a funny guy
has never, ever helped me get laid.
Here's the only time
that being funny has helped me get laid:
When a woman's only other option
is a guy who looks like me
who isn't funny.
Then it will kind of get you the nod.
Like, "All right."
It's never enthusiastic.
Like, "Oh, my God. You're really--"
[grunting]
It's always a kind of a default.
It's never overcome good looks.
No one's ever looked at me and went,
"Ah, I don't know.
That guy's six-foot-three.
He's got a great body. He's a triathlete.
But the little fella--
his anecdotes will have me in stitches
the entire evening.
Come on, big boy.
Slam your face into my pussy
and do some knock-knock jokes."
And I'm a good guy to date
'cause I'm a dirty guy.
I figure women would like a guy like me.
Like, I love giving oral sex
to women more than I like anything.
And I like-- I mean, immediately.
I go right down there.
And I like things on women
that you don't even like on yourselves.
Every special,
I talk about liking a bigger pussy.
I like an untraditional vagina.
A cock. No, I'm kidding.
I like the type of vagina
that a woman is self-conscious about.
You remember in high school, if you had
to keep your crotch in the locker
'cause all the other girls were cruel
and they'd walk by--
"Hey, it's Big Pussy McGillicuddy"
or whatever they'd say.
And I've learned a lot about what's sexy
and what's not sexy.
Don't talk when you're going down
on a woman.
There's nothing sexy you're gonna say
when you're giving her head.
If a girl's going down on you and she's
like, "I love sucking your cock,"
that's kind of sexy to hear.
But there's nothing you're gonna say
when you're going down on a woman
that's gonna make her happier
than what you're doing.
I had a girl tell me that one time
her boyfriend was eating her pussy,
and he stopped, and he looked up
and he went, "Mmm. You taste scrumptious."
It's actually sexier
when you're eating pussy
if you look up and go,
"ISIS beheads people."
One thing I hate: I hate using my fingers.
That's the only thing I don't like,
when a girl's like,
"Put your fingers in me."
'Cause I have little hands,
and every time I put my fingers in,
I never quite get to where--
I just barely can touch the bottom
of the G-spot.
And they're always like,
"A little deeper."
"But the webbing."
[groaning]
I gotta take my left arm
and push the right one.
[groaning]
And one of my closest friends
was Patrice O'Neal.
You know Patrice.
[cheers and applause]
And it's funny. Patrice would annoy me,
'cause he would always brag
about how great he was at finger-popping.
But Patrice would always brag
about finger-popping,
and I watched him one time in Brazil
make a girl squirt using his fingers.
'Cause Patrice had fingers
like ballerina legs.
I was in one bed with my girl.
He was in one with his.
And he was like, whap, whap, whap,
and she would squirt.
[squirting sound]
And then my girl is squirting,
but out of her eyes,
watching the other--
And I'm doing the best I can,
but I just couldn't--
My fingers were like two polio legs
in a swimming pool.
The girl finally got annoyed
and just pushed my hand out.
"All right, Peter Dinklage fingers.
Fucking--"
I really don't know where
to meet the women.
After that bit,
I don't expect to meet a lot of you.
I'm on the social media apps.
I use Tinder. Anybody else use Tinder?
[woman] Whoo!
The woman who said "whoo,"
how long did it take you to meet somebody?
-Just yell out the number.
-I'm married.
You're married. Oh, good.
So, your parents fucked missionary,
you're married.
Great. I'm ruining a lot of lives tonight.
Now, was this before your husband,
or is this how you met him?
[nervously] After.
[crowd] Whoa!
After. Hmm.
I fucking love that.
"Who are you talking to?"
"It's a buddy, see? Ahh."
I am on Tinder.
And I'm sure most of you know what it is.
You upload photos,
you swipe "like" or "nope,"
and if you have a match,
you can talk to that person.
And before you do it, you have to set
the parameters you want to search,
the distance.
I live here in New York, in Midtown,
so I set it to search a three-mile radius.
And you gotta set the age range.
I'm in my 40s, so I set it for 18.
That's as far left as it would go.
Heh heh heh.
I actually called Tinder to complain.
"There's something wrong with your app,
goddamn it. It keeps getting stuck on 18.
Oh, legal stuff. No, I'm just getting--
Norton, yeah."
It's very addicting. We always say,
"Oh, there's nobody single,"
but you realize
when you get on an app like that,
there are so many beautiful single women.
I was swiping for hours. Like, like, like.
I didn't swipe "nope" on any--
I didn't give a shit what you looked like.
A little, teeny Zika virus.
Fuck it. Like.
Shotgun wound to the face.
Fuck it. I'll play with her nipples
till the ambulance gets there. Like.
I heard somebody groan at that.
It's okay to laugh.
It's not a real scenario.
You think that really happened?
A woman got shot in the face
with a shotgun
and had the wherewithal to snap a selfie?
And then I happened to go,
"Hey, what are you up to?"
"Bleeding to death in the hallway."
"Well, how about I tweak those nips
till help arrives?"
But I was on for three days,
swiping for hours,
getting no responses,
and that's a gut-punch
to your self-esteem.
I'm like,
"I'm a worthless piece of shit."
But then I'm like, "No, maybe I just
didn't put broad enough options."
I only set it for three square miles.
Midtown New York--
what is that, 1.8 million people?
So, I kind of opened up my search options.
Maximum age, maximum distance.
I pretty much set it for,
if you have a pussy in North America,
or hope to someday...
I finally got a Tinder match,
and I'm actually going to read
the interaction to you.
I was talking to this girl.
It was going really, really well.
Talking to her for five days,
back and forth, every day.
"Hey, good morning. How are you?"
On the fifth day, I finally said to her,
"I'm really enjoying speaking to you.
I'd love to talk on the phone.
Can I have your number?"
Nothing. No response.
Absolutely ghosted me.
So, four days later, I write back,
"I guess that's a no. LOL."
You know.
Laughing out loud,
just to keep it good-natured and fun.
She responds,
"To be perfectly honest,
I googled you."
I don't know what your lives are like,
but when you're Jim Norton,
that's the last thing you want to read.
"I googled you."
"Cosby Hitler" has better Google results
than "Jim Norton."
"I googled you and was watching
a video of you talking
about sending photos of your penis
to a girl.
I didn't know if it was a good idea
to give you my number.
So sorry. Just trying to be honest."
[groans]
I felt awful. I had no idea what to write.
I just wrote back, "Cunt.
LOL."
Thank you guys very much.
You were amazing.
I appreciate you being here.
[cheers and applause]
Thank you guys very much for coming out.
[music playing]
The world today
Is such a wicked place
Fighting going on
Between the human race...
What should I do?
Left hand now, like this?
Yeah, really give it to me.
Okay. Say it with conviction,
you ugly slug.
And then I start--
Then I slap you again. I'm all right.
-Okay, so, the left one.
-Yeah.
And then slap. Then, "Say it
with conviction, you ugly slug,"
-and then again.
-Yeah.
Ay-ay-ay. Okay.
All right, do it--
...they say is very high