The Filthiest Hour, Part Two

Ohhh, you filthy motherfuckers came BACK. You sick, beautiful degenerates — you couldn't get enough. Welcome to THE FILTHIEST HOUR, PART TWO.(big cheer)

Last time we set a world record — sixteen hundred cuss words in one damn show. And you know what I said when I saw that number? I said "that's cute." 'Cause tonight, we bury it.(crowd ohhh)

Part one was the warm-up, you filthy animals. Part one was me clearin' my fuckin' throat. Tonight we go DARKER, we go FILTHIER, and we drag the ugly shit into the light and make you laugh at it anyway.(roaring laugh)

'Cause here's what I learned at fifty, motherfuckers — the darker the story, the filthier the joke's gotta be to survive it. A "darn" won't carry a bankruptcy. A "shoot" won't cover a felony. Some pain needs a full-throated MOTHERFUCKER just to breathe.(airhorn)

Tonight I'm gonna take you to Vegas, where I lost my ass at a blackjack table before I even found a place to sleep. To the apocalypse I went broke preparing for that never fuckin' showed up. To the record that slammed every door in my face.(crowd ohhh)

And we're gonna cuss through ALL of it — 'cause you can't kill me, you filthy bastards. Life shot at me and MISSED, so the least I can do is laugh with my whole dirty mouth.(big cheer)

Let me warm the engine. Fuck. Shit. Motherfucker. Cocksucker. Prick. Bastard. Asshole. Dickhead. Bitch. Dipshit. Scumbag. Son of a bitch. Twelve deep, cold, no fuckin' warm-up, and the clock's already runnin'.(crowd ohhh)(roaring laugh)

Somebody in the back already offended — GOOD. Sit there and marinate in it, sweetheart — you paid for the full filthy experience and you're damn well gonna choke every dirty word of it all the way down.(laugh)

Sixteen hundred was the old record. Tonight we're goin' for TWO THOUSAND, you magnificent filthy bastards — the darkest, dirtiest two hours ever put to tape. Buckle the fuck up. Let's break it.(roaring laugh)

One felony, twenty fucking years old, still runs my whole ass-backwards life like a shit-eating warden with a damn clipboard.(laugh)

CHP offered me a real fucking job, Highway Patrol, badge, benefits, then the background check hit like a bitch-slap straight from the damn state.(crowd ohhh)

Funny shit is I already protected my own damn family, no badge, no pension, just balls and one fucked-up bad-ass decision.(big cheer)

I took the fall for people I love and kept my fucking mouth shut tighter than my ex's cheap-ass, ice-cold heart.(laugh)

State says can't trust you with a badge, bitch, I ate that whole damn case alone, who the fuck else was gonna trust my ass?(crowd ohhh)

Then I try selling RVs while my buddy's out there clearing ten grand a fucking month parking big-ass trailers for dumbass rich fools.(laugh)

Application says any priors and I panic-lie like a dumb motherfucker, same damn shitty lie I told the car lot two years before that.(roaring laugh)

Two applications, two shitty-ass lies, one damn felony, the computer matched it up faster than my ex found receipts in my ass pocket.(laugh)

Manager says it's a no, and a hell no, didn't even let my dumb ass finish the fucking sentence, shit was over before it started.(crowd ohhh)

Standing there thinking this felony's the only bitch in my whole fucking life that's ever stayed loyal.(roaring laugh)

Every legit door I knock on, the record's already sitting inside with its ass up, feet kicked out, smoking my shit, paying zero fucking rent.(laugh)

Can't be a cop, can't sell an RV, at some damn point you start wondering what the fuck I'm even legally allowed to do with my life.(crowd ohhh)

Turns out the answer's build your own damn thing, cause no app, no bot's running a background check on a guy slinging vitamins out his fucking trunk.(big cheer)

Hustled vitamins, did shows, whatever paid the fucking bills, a felon's résumé is just I made it work, ask my ass how, in shitty damn cursive.(laugh)

Now I'm in AI, and let me tell you, artificial intelligence has never once asked if my dumb ass has been arrested, bless its silicon fucking ass.(roaring laugh)

Typed my whole fucked-up shitty life into a computer and it said cool, let's build, no background check, no bullshit, no sir step the fuck outside.(airhorn)

First job interview in twenty fucking years that didn't end with some manager's face going pale as shit behind a damn desk.(laugh)

System that locked every damn door also handed my ass a crowbar made of pure spite and bad-ass fucking credit.(crowd ohhh)

They wanted a criminal to stay small and quiet, this criminal built his own damn shit-covered economy out of pure fuck-you.(big cheer)

Didn't get the badge, didn't get the RV lot, got something better, ain't nobody left above my ass to tell me hell no.(roaring laugh)

My record's the reason I'm not wearing a damn uniform right now, and it's the same damn reason I answer to nobody but my own fucking ass.(applause)

Funny how the exact shit that was supposed to end my ass is the same shit that made me un-fucking-fireable.(laugh)

Can't blacklist a man who writes his own damn ass-list in permanent fucking marker.(crowd ohhh)

Turned no into a damn business plan and didn't need one single fucking permission slip to build my shit.(big cheer)

The fucking record's got my name so radioactive every legit job in this fucking country takes one damn look and calls FUCKING security.(laugh)

Only city broke enough, shit-dumb enough, and filthy enough to take a blacklisted motherfucker like me was Las Vegas, so I moved my sorry ass there, no bullshit.(big cheer)

I land at midnight, two bags, forty fucking dollars, and Vegas looks at my broke ass like fresh fucking meat that just fell off a bus.(crowd ohhh)

Day one. Not day thirty, not day two, day fucking ONE, I'm parked at a blackjack table like some dumbass, broke-ass financial advisor.(laugh)

"Hit me." "Hit me again." "Hit me, motherfucker, I'm a professional." I was not a professional, I was a fucking sacrifice, a broke-ass donor.(roaring laugh)

Twenty shitty minutes and that casino owns my damn rent, my flight money, and a chunk of my ass I didn't even know was for sale.(big cheer)

I walk out broker than shit, and some smartass dealer swears that's mathematically impossible. Dealers lie, dealers are lying sons of bitches, motherfucking liars.(laugh)

Midnight, no room, no plan, so I do what any shattered, broke-dick son of a bitch does — I start bullshitting strangers on the damn phone like a desperate motherfucker.(laugh)

Fifty calls. FIFTY. "Hey, you don't know me, I'm not a killer, I need a four-hundred-dollar room by tonight, no bullshit, no bodies, I fucking swear."(crowd ohhh)

Number forty-eight says yes. Forty-seven assholes heard my desperate ass and thought "nope, that's a body-in-the-trunk-having motherfucker," and shit, they weren't wrong to worry.(roaring laugh)

Same broke-ass, bullshit week I wander onto an RV lot just to stand somewhere with AC and a shred of dignity I did not have, not one damn shred.(laugh)

Sales manager asks what I do, I dump my whole fucked-up shitshow of a story on him, and this bastard hires my ass on the spot like I'm a motivational speaker who smells like a bus station bathroom, damn fumes and all.(big cheer)

Selling RVs. Me. Some broke-ass, blacklisted motherfucker peddling forty-foot houses on wheels to retirees trusting my ass with their whole damn life savings, shit they worked forty years for.(laugh)

Seven days a fucking week, sweating through my one good shirt, hustling like my ass depends on it, because it does, because I'm broke as hell and running out of shit to sell.(laugh)

And after killing my ass seven damn days a week? I never made real money. Not close, not once, not one shitty damn dollar of it, not a fucking dime.(crowd ohhh)

Meanwhile my wife struts her ass onto that same lot, sells one RV her first damn week, and just like that her ass is outearning mine like I'm some broke-ass hobby.(laugh)

Ten thousand a fucking month. TEN GRAND. She's closing deals in heels while I'm closing deals in flop sweat, desperation, and my own damn piss-poor, shitty math.(big cheer)

Turns out her whole sales technique wasn't charisma, it was screwing the owner's shit-eating son, which — damn, DAMN, respect the hustle, hate the marriage.(roaring laugh)

Half the damn lot, man. Salesmen, mechanics, a dude named Walt — GARY, you sneaky son of a bitch — I did not know Walt had that shit in his ass.(laugh)

So now I'm a broke-ass husband selling RVs to strangers while my own damn wife's doing inventory on the whole damn staff, ass to ass.(laugh)

I wanted a divorce so fucking bad, and it wasn't hate, it was arithmetic, pure, cold, broke-motherfucker arithmetic, shit you can't argue with.(laugh)

I didn't want her ass back, I didn't want a sorry-ass apology, I wanted my damn half of that ten grand and a bus ticket the hell out of that shitty desert.(crowd ohhh)

Vegas didn't break my ass at the tables, Vegas broke my ass at the kitchen table doing math on a napkin like a broke-ass accountant with a shit pencil and a dead-ass phone.(laugh)

They call it Sin City. I call it the only motherfucking town on earth that'll take your dignity, your money, your marriage, and still charge your broke ass for shitty parking.(applause)

Broke, blacklisted, and married to the top-selling, ass-shaking, husband-cheating RV rep on the whole damn filthy-ass lot.(airhorn)

Alright you filthy bastards, lemme tell you the dumbest ass-backwards piece-of-shit fuckin' thing I ever did — and I've done some shit, but THIS is a certified fuckin' masterpiece of stupid, dumbass.(laugh)

1999. Y2K, motherfuckers. Remember that shit? Every panicked-ass, screamin'-ass, dumbfuck motherfucker on TV hollerin' the damn computers were gonna wake the fuck up and forget how to fuckin' count!(crowd ohhh)

Planes fallin' outta the damn sky, banks eatin' your shit, toasters turnin' on your dumb ass like a bitter, backstabbin', shit-talkin' ex — the WHOLE fuckin' world about to end over a two-digit typo, shit!(laugh)

And me? Dipshit of the fuckin' century, prize dumbass extraordinaire, king of the shitheads? I had a good-payin' ass job out in Vegas, real fuckin' money — and I quit that shit like a dumb bitch!(crowd ohhh)

Packed my shit up, drove my dumb ass home to "protect my family," like some shit-stained, half-ass action hero savin' everybody's asses from a fuckin' spreadsheet, dumb as hell!(laugh)

Midnight hits. Whole fuckin' family huddled up. I'm standin' there like a dumbass, ass-clenched sentry ready to punch a damn computer straight in its motherfuckin' face!(roaring laugh)

Clock strikes twelve... and NOTHIN'. Not one damn plane drops. Not one fuckin' bank explodes. The whole damn apocalypse stood my ass up like a cheap-ass bitch on prom night, shit!(big cheer)

The world said hell no to endin' its shit, and meanwhile my dumb ass had already torched my job, my income, my whole fuckin' life for an invitation that never showed its ass up!(crowd ohhh)

So now I'm broke as fuckin' shit, no job, dumb as hell, and I get this bright-ass dumbfuck idea — "I'll be a fuckin' photographer!" Like that's a plan and not a shit-ass cry for help!(laugh)

I bought a Yellow Pages ad, dumb as shit. A THOUSAND fuckin' dollars a month for a shit-ass book nobody's wiped their fuckin' ass with since the damn nineties!(roaring laugh)

Then I got THREE fuckin' cell phones runnin' — another damn grand a month, so three shit phones could ring with the exact same fuckin' amount of nobody-callin' bullshit!(crowd ohhh)

Two grand a fuckin' month, bleedin' outta both my damn wrists, phones so shit-quiet you'd think I sold caskets for a livin' — and by the end, no shit, my dumb ass basically did!(laugh)

Ring, you son of a bitch! RING, you dead-ass piece of shit! Nothin'. Just my dumb ass and my whole shit-brick life goin' bankrupt in real fuckin' time!(roaring laugh)

Zero fuckin' clients. Zero fuckin' dollars. Just my dumb ass, payin' two shit-ass grand a month to advertise a bullshit business a damn raccoon coulda run better outta a dumpster full of shit!(crowd ohhh)

My credit didn't just take a hit, it took a fuckin' bat straight to the damn skull — droppin' so fast the shit collectors started callin' just to laugh their asses off at my broke ass!(laugh)

I filed BANKRUPTCY, motherfuckers. Actual bankrupt-ass bankruptcy. Judge lookin' at my sorry shit paperwork like "you did all this shit over Y2K?" Yes, your honor, I'm that big of a fuckin' dumbass!(big cheer)

They came and took all my shit — furniture, car, the whole damn works — draggin' it out my door while I stood there like a sad-ass, shit-faced tour guide of my own fuckin' failures!(roaring laugh)

Repo man's loadin' up my shit couch and I'm thinkin' "well, at least the toasters didn't get us" — bitch, my raggedy-ass TOASTER outlasted my whole entire fuckin' financial ass life!(crowd ohhh)

I survived the shit apocalypse that never came and got financially ass-murdered by the one that never fuckin' showed up — that ain't bad luck, that's a whole-ass, dumbfuck art form!(laugh)

Somewhere there's a computer from '99 still runnin' fine, doin' its damn job, payin' its own damn shit bills, and meanwhile my dumb ass is the one who got fuckin' Y2K'd!(roaring laugh)

I prepped for the wrong-ass apocalypse, dumbfuck. Shoulda been stockin' canned beans, instead I was stockin' three shit phone bills and a fuckin' Yellow Pages ad like a straight dumbass shitbird!(crowd ohhh)

And you know the real fuckin' kicker? I wasn't even pissed the damn world didn't end — I was pissed as hell it let my dumb ass be the one to fuckin' end instead, shit!(laugh)

So next time some dumbass hat tells you the world's endin' Tuesday, tell that dumb motherfucker Trailer Guy already tried that shit — and the only damn thing that ended was my shit credit score!(big cheer)

That's the fuckin' joke, that's the fuckin' scar, that's a grown-ass man who quit a damn good job to fight a shit calendar bug and lost every single fuckin' round of it!(applause)

Bankrupt, broke, and beat all to hell by a computer glitch that didn't even have the decency to show its ass up — folks, THAT is the filthiest, dumbest shit there fuckin' is!(roaring laugh)

Before any of this shit, I was broke as fuck, and not cute broke, not "skip a damn coffee" broke, I mean stone-cold, bank-account-crying, shit-your-pants state-employee broke.(laugh)

Five in the fucking morning, I'm a broke-ass state janitor pushing a mop down a hallway that smells like piss and government-cheese ass, and that shit's the whole damn dream at that point.(crowd ohhh)

Mop in one hand, my whole shitty-ass future in the other, and let me tell you, that future did not smell like ambition, it smelled like fucking bleach, damn defeat, and somebody else's broke-dick regret.(laugh)

Then out of fucking nowhere, two weeks before damn Christmas, some bridal-show promoter calls my broke ass up like an angel with a shady-ass spreadsheet — no, scratch that, more like a demon with a damn calculator.(roaring laugh)

Says he's got one shitty booth left at the bridal show, my one shot at photographing weddings, all I gotta do is pay two grand, in full, THAT DAMN DAY, no bullshit payment plan, no fucking mercy.(crowd ohhh)

Two thousand fucking dollars. I had, at that exact broke-ass moment, seven damn dollars, a mop, and a shit-ton of ass-out nothing.(laugh)

Any sane, normal, non-broke motherfucker hears that shit and says "nah, fuck that" and hangs the fuck up like a responsible damn ass-covering adult.(laugh)

I said yes so fucking fast I nearly broke my own damn neck saying it, "YES, ABSOLUTELY, TAKE MY MONEY" — money my broke ass did not have one shitty dime of.(big cheer)

So now I gotta become the world's shittiest fucking con artist just to scrape up two grand by sundown, and I had zero damn training for that shit.(laugh)

Called my mama, told her my car broke down. Car was parked outside the whole damn time, running fine, judging my sorry ass through the fucking window.(roaring laugh)

Called my ass of a buddy, told him my shitty car broke down. Called another buddy, told HIS ass my car broke down too, like my damn car was out there dying in fucking shifts.(laugh)

"Bro, the car, it's fucked, I need three hundred bucks by five" — meanwhile my car's outside sunbathing, not a damn scratch, not a shitty dent.(roaring laugh)

I borrowed off every damn body. Friends, family, some coworker I barely knew, a poor bastard who just wanted his fifteen fucking bucks back for lunch and instead funded my whole broke-ass destiny.(crowd ohhh)

Every one of them thinking they're helping a stranded man get home, when really their asses are funding some broke, shitty photographer's Hail Mary into the whole damn wedding business.(laugh)

I'm out there scraping twenties off people like some shit-ass street magician, "pick a lie, any lie, they're all about a car, motherfucker."(laugh)

Then there's the part I ain't proud of — my girlfriend had a kid, and that Christmas, that kid's damn presents got quietly, sneakily erased from the fucking budget, ass-backwards and all.(crowd ohhh)

I didn't say it out loud, didn't announce shit, I just did that broke-ass-dad math where the two grand wins and the kid's damn Christmas turns real fucking light on boxes, ass-light on boxes.(laugh)

Some Christmas morning that kid's unwrapping one shitty coloring book and a pack of damn ass-cheap socks, while across town my whole fucking future's sitting in some promoter's bank account.(roaring laugh)

I want to be crystal fucking clear, I ain't proud of my sorry ass, I'm just honest — I traded a kid's damn Christmas for a shitty folding table and a banner with my name in shitty-ass Comic Sans.(laugh)

Two grand, gone, in full, that same fucking day, and I got a damn receipt and a booth number like I just bought a timeshare in fucking hell.(big cheer)

I show up to that bridal show with a camera, a fake-ass smile, and enough debt and lies stacked on my ass to bury a smaller, smarter, less desperate motherfucker.(laugh)

Every bride walking by, I'm shaking hands, handing out cards, sweating my ass through my one good damn shirt, thinking "please book my broke ass before somebody's mama finds out my car story's fake as hell."(roaring laugh)

That one shitty folding-table booth, paid for with borrowed-ass money, spread thin as fuck across everybody who trusted my sorry ass — that damn booth is where thirty fucking years of weddings started.(big cheer)

Thirty fucking years, thousands of weddings, and it all traces back to one broke motherfucker lying about a damn car and shorting a kid on Christmas to gamble his whole ass on himself.(applause)

So next time some motherfucker tells you to "believe in yourself," just know sometimes believing in your own damn self looks exactly like lying to your ass-out mama and stealing a kid's shitty-ass Christmas.(roaring laugh)

Best fucking bet I ever made, worst damn way I ever made it, and every bride I shot for thirty straight-ass years owes a thank-you to a kid who got nothing but a pair of fucking socks.(airhorn)

Thirty fucking years shooting weddings, since two-thousand-fucking-one, the only dumbass motherfucker in Sacramento doing digital shit, and I've watched more marriages die on camera than any damn divorce lawyer's seen in his whole fucking life.(big cheer)

Got that first gig off a bridal-show gamble, paid a fucking fee my broke ass couldn't afford, some bride picked my dumb ass 'cause my sample album had the least fingers over the fucking lens. That's the whole damn résumé, motherfuckers.(laugh)

People think a wedding photographer captures love. Bullshit. I capture four fucking hours before two dumbasses legally weaponize each other's shit and start splitting a fucking Crock-Pot in front of some tired-ass, fed-up-ass judge.(roaring laugh)

I can spot a dead-ass marriage before the damn ceremony even starts, it's in the eyes, it's the groom checking his fucking phone during vows like the vows owe his broke ass some fucking money.(crowd ohhh)

Every reception's got one drunk-ass uncle treating the open bar like a personal fucking dare, by hour three he's sobbing his ass off into mashed potatoes about some bitch named Cheryl who dumped his ass in ninety-fucking-four.(roaring laugh)

"You don't even know Cheryl, man, she took the boat, she took my dignity, she took my—" then he faceplants his drunk ass into the cake like a heat-seeking fucking missile.(laugh)

Bridezillas are a whole fucking species of their own damn making. I watched one dumb bitch scream at her own mother over centerpieces like the flowers personally fucked her boyfriend, then smiles for my camera like nothing fucking happened.(big cheer)

I've heard a maid-of-honor toast so shady it needed subtitles, some shit like "I always knew you two crazy fuckers would find each other" while eye-fucking the groom's ex the entire damn shitty speech.(roaring laugh)

Groomsmen cry harder than the bride every single fucking time, big linebacker motherfuckers losing their shit 'cause "he's really doing it," meanwhile your ass cried less at your own daddy's fucking funeral, get it together, man.(crowd ohhh)

Caught the bride's daddy sobbing his ass off in the parking lot, not joy, just math, dumb bastard did the math on this circus and realized his broke ass financed a damn divorce he ain't even lost yet.(laugh)

The DJ's always some dipshit named "DJ Smooth Ride" wearing a vest with no shirt under his damn ass, thinking the Cupid Shuffle's a fucking personality, my dude, that shit's just a traffic pattern with a fucking beat.(roaring laugh)

I've shot receptions where the damn seating chart wrecked more shit than a bar fight, cousins not speaking, an ex-wife shoved by the fucking bathroom, some new bitch crying into a centerpiece by nine fucking PM.(crowd ohhh)

Caught the best man and a bridesmaid sneaking their asses off during the actual fucking ceremony, not the reception, the "I do's," coming back smelling like an ashtray and some real bad-ass fucking decisions.(big cheer)

Zoomed in for a candid family shot and caught the groom's mama mouthing "I give it eighteen fucking months" to another bitch at the table, honestly ma'am, same shit, I had the damn under at fourteen.(roaring laugh)

After thirty fucking years I run a silent-ass book on every damn wedding, over-under on the marriage, and my hit rate's disgustingly fucking good for some dumbass who's just supposed to hold a fucking camera.(laugh)

I've shot three separate weddings where I caught the groom texting some bitch who ain't his damn bride, mid-reception, thumbs going like his ass is defusing a bomb instead of getting married that same fucking hour.(crowd ohhh)

One bride found out her new husband's cheating ass 'cause I forgot to kill my flash during his "quick bathroom break" and lit up a hallway conversation that ended her shit before the fucking cake got cut.(roaring laugh)

I ain't saying my ass ended that marriage, I'm saying my damn camera catches cheating dick better than half the private investigators in this fucking state, and my broke ass bills way less per fucking hour.(big cheer)

A bride's mama pulled my ass aside whispering "get a damn shot of the exits, I give this shit a year," and I said ma'am my ass already scouted three, this ain't my first fucking rodeo, sweetheart.(laugh)

Open bars turn grown-ass adults feral by hour fucking four, I watched some drunk grandma arm-wrestle a groomsman for the last shrimp cocktail like it was a damn inheritance dispute, no shit, I swear.(crowd ohhh)

The first dance starts sweet and ends with a heel snapping and the bride's ass hissing shit through her teeth that'd make a trucker blush, while my camera catches that fake-ass smile like a damn crime scene photo.(roaring laugh)

I've had grooms beg my ass to delete photos of their drunk asses doing body shots off a bridesmaid two hours after their vows, and I say the same shit, buddy, this card remembers what your dumb ass won't.(laugh)

By year fifteen I quit getting emotional over this shit, now I just watch two drunk-ass idiots sign a legally binding document, same fucking energy as a shitty timeshare seminar with a better-ass cake, that's it.(big cheer)

I've seen fistfights break out over who pays the damn open-bar overage, grown-ass men in rented tuxedos throwing hands like the wedding turned into a fucking pay-per-view event, no refunds, no shit, motherfuckers.(roaring laugh)

Thirty years, thousands of weddings, my personal record for a marriage lasting is nine damn days, nine fucking days, and I still got a five-star-ass review 'cause the lighting was, and I quote, "immaculate as shit."(applause)

You wanna talk about bad fuckin' luck? Sit your filthy asses down, 'cause I invented EVERYTHING and I own NOTHIN'.(big cheer)

Nineteen ninety-nine, motherfuckers. Three years before some slick British judge ever curled his lip on TV — I built a talent show. Singers, dancers, models, whole damn thing. I had American Idol before Idol was a fuckin' twinkle in some producer's eye.(crowd ohhh)

And I didn't stop there, oh no. Models, dancers, singers, groups — every damn category. That's not Idol no more, that's AMERICA'S GOT TALENT — a show that didn't exist for another SEVEN fuckin' years. I had two billion-dollar franchises in one night in nineteen ninety-nine.(roaring laugh)

You know who was JUDGIN' this masterpiece? My damn THIRD-GRADE TEACHER. The woman who taught me fractions was scorin' talent, and I'm producin' the future of television — and I made... let me check my notes... ZERO fuckin' dollars.(airhorn)(roaring laugh)

ZERO fuckin' dollars! A sold-out damn show! Packed fuckin' house! And I walked outta there with less money than I walked IN with, 'cause you know what this dumb genius bastard did?(crowd ohhh)

I rented TWELVE fuckin' LIMOUSINES. Twelve! To pick up my STAFF. Not the talent — the STAFF. The guy runnin' the damn lights rolled up like a rap video while I'm eatin' ninety-nine-cent tacos in the alley.(roaring laugh)

I'm the only producer in HISTORY who went bankrupt makin' OTHER people feel famous. I spent every dime so the sound guy could feel like a motherfuckin' movie star, and I went home broke as a church mouse with a gamblin' problem.(airhorn)

And that's my WHOLE damn life, you filthy degenerates! Big turnout — no fuckin' money. Sold out — no shit money. Standin' ovation — and I'm diggin' in the damn couch cushions for gas money like a broke-ass raccoon with a dream and a boner for show business.(roaring laugh)

Every idea I ever had became a household name — for some OTHER cocksucker! I'm out here inventin' the future and the future keeps sendin' the check to a different fuckin' address.(big cheer)

Some smug British talent-show judge owes me a fruit basket AND an apology. Somewhere he's countin' my money in a mansion, and I'm on my knees scrubbin' a rich lady's shitter for seven hundred bucks.(crowd ohhh)

But here's the punchline, motherfuckers — you can steal a man's IDEAS, but you can't steal his damn STORY. He got the money. I got the SCARS. And scars make a filthier fuckin' show than money ever could.(big cheer)

So laugh at me, you beautiful bastards — the visionary who invented reality TV, rented twelve limos, and couldn't afford a fuckin' burrito. That's the dumbest, brokest, most ahead-of-his-time son of a bitch you'll ever meet. THE HAMMER. Goodnight, you filthy motherfuckers!(roaring laugh)(applause)

You ever meet a fucking reverse Midas? Every shitty idea I touch turns to somebody else's fucking gold, and I'm the dumbass left holding my own dick.(laugh)

I've restarted my whole ass-backwards fucking life so many damn times — no, so many FUCKING times — I should get frequent-flyer miles for rock bottom.(big cheer)

Free carry-on, free checked bag, free "well shit, here we fucking go again," you dumbass.(laugh)

I don't got a fucking career, I got a shitload of shitty pilot episodes that all got cancelled on my dumb fucking ass.(roaring laugh)

Every idea I ever had, some other lucky asshole took the SAME damn idea and bought a fucking boat with the fucking profits.(laugh)

I wade my ass into the same fucking river everybody else is pulling gold out of, and it turns to straight-up shit the second I touch it.(crowd ohhh)

I ran a whole fucking business during the internet gold rush — models, webcams, the whole damn online setup — out of my own studio offices.(laugh)

Every other dumbass with a webcam and a ring light was out here buying Escalades off this shit.(laugh)

I had the actual fucking gold rush happening inside my own building and I still lost my whole damn ass.(roaring laugh)

That takes a special kind of fucking talent — losing your shirt off people getting naked on the internet, dumbass.(airhorn)

That ain't bad luck, that's a full-blown fucking curse with a fucking business license and a dumbass logo.(laugh)

Sign here, sign here, and initial your whole fucking soul right fucking there, dumbass.(crowd ohhh)

Then a tornado shows up — not weather, a FUCKING WOMAN — and rips through what's left of my shit like she's owed money too.(laugh)

Deaths, betrayals, a bankruptcy, a fucking record deal that just evaporated — I collect disasters like other assholes collect fucking coins, no shit.(roaring laugh)

Every time life hits reset, I don't go back to fucking start, I go BELOW start, straight to the sub-fucking-basement of shit.(laugh)

Basement below the basement, sub-fucking-basement of a fucking sub-basement, dumbass.(crowd ohhh)

I've hit zero so many fucking times, zero and my dumb ass are on a first-name fucking basis.(laugh)

Zero sees my ass walking up and goes "oh shit, not this dumbass again."(roaring laugh)

I'm the only motherfucker alive who can turn a gold rush into a fucking eviction notice, no shit.(laugh)

Still waiting on my fucking award for "Most Consistent Fucking Failure," which at this shitty point IS a fucking achievement.(big cheer)

You want my secret, dumbass? I don't got one, I just keep getting my ass up, dumber and more broke every fucking time.(laugh)

Most people break their ass after ONE fucking reset. One.(crowd ohhh)

I've been reset so many fucking times I should come with a factory fucking warranty and a shitty-ass return policy.(laugh)

A dozen rock bottoms, a dozen restarts, and my dumbass heart is still beating like it never got the fucking memo, no shit.(roaring laugh)

You can bankrupt my ass, bury my people, blow up my record, burn the whole fucking building down, dumbass —(crowd ohhh)

— and I will show up tomorrow with a new terrible fucking idea and a shit-eating grin, because I am one UNBREAKABLE motherfucker, you beautiful bastards.(applause)

I was young, broke, and dumb as a fucking bag of hammers when my dumbass decided the smartest damn fucking move of my whole shitty-ass life was a two-hour drive to Reno to marry a woman I'd known six fucking weeks, no shit.(laugh)

Not Vegas — Reno, the discount-ass fucking version, the shitty Walmart of quickie weddings, where the damn chapel guy's got a day-shift job and married my dumb ass on his shitty-ass lunch break.(crowd ohhh)

Fifty-nine fucking bucks, a rented-ass ring, and a damn witness they pulled off the shitty sidewalk, some stranger named Walt who signed our whole fucked-up future like he's settling a fucking bar tab.(roaring laugh)

I looked her dead in the eye at 1 AM and said "I fucking do" with the same shaky-ass confidence I use ordering shit off a damn menu I can't pronounce, no fucking plan, no backup, no shit.(laugh)

Meanwhile her family's a whole different fucking animal — strict, traditional, buttoned-the-fuck-up, the kind of damn family that irons their shitty jeans before church, no bullshit involved, none.(crowd ohhh)

And they take one fucking look at my ass — filthy-ass mouth, no savings, a Reno marriage certificate still warm off the damn printer — and their whole shitty faces just shut the fuck down, hard.(roaring laugh)

Her dad shook my fucking hand once, ONE damn time, like he's checking a rental car for a shit-ton of damage he already fucking knew was there.(laugh)

Her mom served me dinner with the warmth of a fucking parole officer, staring at my ass like "this is the filthy-ass bastard that eloped with my daughter on a damn Tuesday, no warning, no fucking bullshit."(big cheer)

I get it now, my dumb ass would not approve of my own ass either, I'm a filthy, foul-mouthed, broke-ass disaster who proposed with the same damn energy as a shitty fucking Groupon deal.(laugh)

But at the time I'm sitting there thinking love conquers all, and her whole damn family's thinking "call a fucking lawyer, this shit's already dead as fuck in the water."(crowd ohhh)

And for a hot fucking minute it actually worked, she made my dumb ass soft, made my ass laugh, made me feel like my broke ass earned some good shit for once, no bullshit.(laugh)

Then the cheating shit happened, and here's the wild fucking part, by HER own damn words, it wasn't cheating, it was a straight-up fucking accident, swear to shit.(roaring laugh)

An accident! Like her ass tripped on the fucking sidewalk and landed dick-first on some other damn guy, just gravity, just bad-ass luck, no intent whatsoever, no fucking shit.(big cheer)

I said "how the hell do you accidentally end up ass-naked with a man," and she fed my dumb ass a story so fucking wild, so damn specific, I almost respected the shit out of that fucking lie.(roaring laugh)

I'm not even mad at her ass for it anymore, I fucking promise, my dumb ass married a total stranger in a discount-ass chapel, some shitty accidents you build your own damn self, no shit.(laugh)

Her whole family heard about the fucked-up mess and I swear I heard a collective "we fucking told you" from three damn states away, no phone needed, pure fucking judgment at light speed.(crowd ohhh)

The divorce papers hit different than I fucking expected, quiet, official, no yelling, just some clerk stamping "DONE" on the dumbest shit I ever signed sober, no fucking bullshit at all.(laugh)

People assume getting off drugs was my rock bottom, and I gotta be honest with your ass, that fucking divorce hurt worse as shit, no contest, not even fucking close, no shit.(big cheer)

Drugs, at least drugs never pretended to fucking love my ass back, that shit was honest about being a piece-of-shit relationship from day fucking one.(roaring laugh)

She actually loved my dumb ass for a fucking minute, or damn near convinced me she did, and losing that shit gutted my ass in a way no fucking withdrawal ever touched.(crowd ohhh)

I sat in my fucking truck after signing those damn papers crying like a newborn, and I hadn't cried that fucking hard since I quit the drugs cold-ass fucking turkey.(laugh)

So now I got this whole messed-up ranking in my damn head, heroin withdrawal, silver fucking medal, Reno marriage collapsing, gold-ass medal, undisputed champion of my own bullshit decisions.(roaring laugh)

Her strict-ass family probably throws a little party every damn year on our anniversary, toasting orange juice, thanking every fucking saint they got that their daughter's free of my filthy ass.(laugh)

And honestly, good for them, good for her ass, I hope she's happy as hell, I just hope wherever she is, she watches where the fuck she's walking, 'cause her ass trips into bed with strangers.(big cheer)

That's the whole damn lesson from fucking Reno, love fast, marry faster, and when a strict traditional family looks at your ass like a mistake, brother, believe every damn word out their mouth.(roaring laugh)

Young, dumb, and married by a guy on his lunch break, that's not a wedding story, that's a fucking cautionary tale with a shitty-ass ring pop for a wedding band.(applause)

I been in love since I was fourteen fucking years old, a full-blown dumbass addict chasing that first hit of "she looked at me" like it was straight-up fucking heroin, no chaser, no shame.(laugh)

Fifty fucking years old now and I got a graveyard of exes behind my ass bigger than any damn cemetery in this shitty-ass town, every headstone says the same fucked-up shit: "seemed nice at first."(roaring laugh)

The cheerleader, sophomore year — she taught my dumb ass that love hits like a pom-pom to the fucking face, glittery as hell, and it still knocks your whole ass flat on the damn ground.(laugh)

Then the teacher — a whole grown-ass, fully certified teacher — I learned more filthy shit in her damn bedroom than I ever learned in her fucking classroom, and none of that shit was on the test.(big cheer)

I dated women who came at my ass like tornadoes wearing perfume, gorgeous fucking chaos, and my dumbass kept building my whole shitty-ass life right in the damn flight path.(laugh)

Strippers, man — I ain't mad about the fucking strippers, I'm mad my dumb ass thought a lap dance was the start of a relationship and not the whole entire shit-show ass relationship.(roaring laugh)

I got married more than once, my dumb ass, 'cause apparently one damn divorce wasn't enough shit for my dumbass, I needed a full-ass control group and a fucking clipboard.(laugh)

Every single one of them started out an angel — soft voice, sweet-ass laugh, told my dumb ass I was different — and I believed that shit every single fucking time, no hesitation.(crowd ohhh)

Then some shit happens — I show up twenty minutes late for pizza — and boom, angel wings fold the fuck up and out comes a full-on demon in yoga pants, fangs and all, ass out.(roaring laugh)

I ain't saying they were crazy as hell, I'm saying my dumb ass got a fucking gift for finding the exact woman whose jealousy runs hair-trigger, and I load that damn gun my own damn self, every time.(laugh)

"Who's Becky?" Becky's the pizza place, baby, damn it. Becky's got a large-ass pepperoni, not my fucking heart.(big cheer)

They all wanted the same damn shit fast — ring, house, baby, matching-ass towels — while my ass is over here just trying to keep the damn lights on and my own ass employed.(laugh)

I'd say "let's build some shit first" and they'd hear "he don't love me," and next damn thing my shit's in a trash bag getting rained on, on the fucking porch.(roaring laugh)

I have moved my whole ass out of more apartments carrying garbage bags full of my own shit than most men move with a whole damn U-Haul truck, no shit.(laugh)

My bank account looks like a straight-up fucking crime scene, and every missing damn dollar's got a woman's name scrawled next to it in my own shitty-ass handwriting.(crowd ohhh)

I spent more damn money chasing love than most men spend on a fucking car, except a car depreciates slow as hell and every one of my exes depreciated my ass on sight, day fucking one.(laugh)

People ask why my ass is broke as fuck at fifty and I say, "I invested heavy in emotional damage, the returns are shit, but the stories are incredible as fuck."(roaring laugh)

I loved being in love more than I loved money, which is a real nice-ass way of saying I'm a fucking idiot with excellent, top-shelf taste in disaster, straight fucking up.(laugh)

Every one of these women was a straight-up force of nature — hurricane, tornado, wildfire — and my dumb ass kept building my whole fucking life directly in their damn path.(big cheer)

I don't blame the storms, storms are supposed to storm, I blame the dumbass standing outside going "nah, my roof's fucking fine," holding a shitty umbrella made of paper.(roaring laugh)

I got scars from women that ain't visible on my body, they visible in my shitty-ass credit score, my fucking trust issues, and one specific ass-shaped dent in my damn truck door.(laugh)

Fourteen fucking years old, first crush, and my dumb ass decided right then chasing love was worth more than chasing a damn paycheck — fifty fucking years later the math still ain't mathing.(crowd ohhh)

I ain't mad at any of them — angel or demon, they were just being who the hell they were, I'm the fucking fool that kept signing his own ass up for the ride, every damn time.(laugh)

Every relationship taught my dumb ass some shit, mostly that I got a real fucking talent for turning "happily ever after" into "how the hell'd she end up with the damn dog."(roaring laugh)

I'm fifty damn years old, broke as hell, heart still soft as a fucking marshmallow, and if the right tornado walked her fine ass back in right now I'd hand her ass the damn keys again.(big cheer)

That's the whole fucking tragedy of my dumb ass — I never stopped believing in love, I just kept mailing that shit to the wrong damn address every single fucking time.(applause)

Now I told you it went downhill, you filthy degenerates — but let me tell you HOW a man goes downhill. It ain't one big shove, motherfuckers. It's a stripper, one filthy dollar at a fuckin' time.(big cheer)

'Cause the worst damn decision I ever made — worse than the felony, worse than the twelve limos, worse than turnin' down three Lambos — was fallin' balls-deep in love with a damn STRIPPER, motherfuckers.(crowd ohhh)

And I don't mean I dated a dancer, motherfuckers. I mean I looked at a woman whose entire JOB is professionally lyin' to lonely men for singles... and I went "yeah, THAT one, that's my soulmate." My picker's been broke as shit since birth, folks — I could fuck up a wet dream.(roaring laugh)

I had ONE goal my whole damn life — buy a house. A door of my own that nobody could throw me out of. That was it. Simple. And every time I got close, a tornado came through and blew my whole damn down payment straight into some woman's sweaty G-string.(airhorn)

You know how much focus a broke man loses over a stripper? I'd sit down to do my books — — and forty seconds later I'm at the club at two in the afternoon "supportin' her dreams" with my fuckin' rent money, you filthy bastards. That's not love, motherfuckers, that's a fuckin' hostage situation with a two-drink minimum and a damn cover charge.(roaring laugh)

A stripper-tornado don't just wreck your heart, motherfuckers — she reorganizes your whole damn shit-show of a life around HER schedule. I was livin' on stripper time. Up all night, broke all day, and somehow always drivin' some coked-up cousin to the fuckin' airport at 4 a.m.(crowd ohhh)

And the money? Ohhh, the money. I didn't have a savings account, I had a damn DONATION program for titties. Every dollar I ever saved toward that house ended up rolled up, tucked in a garter, and gone like a fart in a fuckin' hurricane.(airhorn)

I'm the only man alive who was tryin' to build EQUITY while personally fundin' a woman's boob job in installments. My financial advisor was a damn STRIPPER POLE, and that greasy cocksucker charged INTEREST.(roaring laugh)

See, a normal dumbass loses his house to a casino. Me? I'm too special for that. I lost mine ONE crumpled twenty at a time to a woman named somethin' like "Destiny" who couldn't spell the motherfucker.(crowd ohhh)

And the sick part — I KNEW. Every single day I knew that tornado was takin' me further from my goal, and I chased her anyway, 'cause a Yellow heart and a stripper is like a moth and a bug zapper. I heard the ZAP, smelled my own ass burnin', and thought "must be fuckin' love."(big cheer)

That's how you go downhill, motherfuckers — not all at once. One lap dance, one "just this once," one rent check at a time, till you look up at fifty and your only damn asset is a filthy mouth and a story fulla holes.(crowd ohhh)

And you know how it ended, motherfuckers? This tornado wanted to MARRY me and have KIDS. I said "no fuckin' way." So to get her out of my life, I gave her every damn thing I owned — includin' my whole GARBAGE PAIL KIDS collection.(crowd ohhh)

That's right — I bought my freedom from a stripper with 1980s tradin' cards, you filthy animals. Cheapest divorce in history and I wasn't even fuckin' married. "Take Adam Bomb and Nasty Nick, sweetheart, and go find a man with a real damn job."(roaring laugh)

That's the Yellow heart to the bitter end — I didn't fight her, I didn't scream, I just handed the tornado a shoebox of childhood cardboard and said "be free, you beautiful disaster." I'm the only motherfucker alive who paid alimony in COLLECTIBLES.(big cheer)

But hold on — 'cause the universe wasn't done fuckin' me yet. You know what I found out RECENTLY? Those Garbage Pail Kids cards I gave her? Some of 'em are worth fifty, a HUNDRED bucks a piece now. And I gave that stripper THOUSANDS of 'em.(crowd ohhh)

Do the damn math, motherfuckers! I handed a tornado a shoebox full of what's now a FORTUNE, just to get some peace and quiet! I'm the only son of a bitch on earth whose GIVEAWAYS out-earn his damn investments!(roaring laugh)

That's my whole life in one filthy nutshell — bad investment, bad timing, and a heart so big I literally gave away a house's worth of cardboard to a woman named Destiny. Reverse fuckin' Midas, baby — everything I touch turns to somebody ELSE'S gold.(airhorn)

But here's the truth under the filth — I finally bought that damn house at forty-three. Took me twenty extra years and a graveyard of tornadoes, but I got my door. And no stripper, no tornado, no cocksucker on this whole damn earth can throw my ass out of it now.(big cheer)

Let me tell you about the single dumbest financial decision I ever made, you filthy animals — and I've made some real shit-brained ones. This is the champion.(big cheer)

A real actual MILLIONAIRE offered to move me in and give me EVERYTHING — house, cars, the whole damn dream. One condition: give up my girlfriend. And this rich bastard had THREE brand-new Lamborghinis.(crowd ohhh)

Bought one right in front of my broke ass just to prove a point, like "this is Tuesday money, kid." And I looked that Lambo dead in its beautiful Italian headlights and said "nah, I'm good, I'm in LOVE."(roaring laugh)

I'm the only broke motherfucker alive who turned down a supercar for feelings. My checking account STILL looks at me like "you had one fuckin' job, you romantic dumbass."(airhorn)

Now before I tell you who I picked — understand I had a GOOD woman before her. Solid, loyal, joined the damn military. And I let her go for the dumbest reason a man ever invented: I figured "she needs a soldier, not me." I talked myself out of a good thing like a genius.(crowd ohhh)

So I let go of a woman who could survive a WAR... and picked one who was a natural disaster. That's called an upgrade in the mind of a romantic dumbass, motherfuckers.(roaring laugh)

'Cause the woman I picked over three Lambos AND a good soldier? I call her TORNADO GIRL. That's what she was — a natural fuckin' disaster with a cute face. The weatherman couldn't track this bitch.(big cheer)

Now here's what nobody warns your dumb ass about, fellas — Tornado Girl was a SCREAMER. And I don't mean a little "oh baby." I mean full-blown, call-the-cops, wake-the-fuckin'-dead SCREAMIN'.(roaring laugh)

First time it happened I damn near called an ambulance. I'm goin' "are you okay?!" She's goin' "YEEESSS!" — and I'm thinkin', somebody's gettin' murdered in here, and it might be my damn security deposit.(crowd ohhh)

At first you're PROUD, motherfuckers. You're like "yeah, that's ME, I did that." Then the neighbor bangs on the wall and you realize your ego just signed a fuckin' eviction notice.(roaring laugh)

'Cause we got KICKED OUT. Of an apartment. For sex noise. You know how embarrassin' it is to get an eviction letter that basically says "your girl's too loud, you filthy bastards, get the fuck out"?(airhorn)

So we move. New apartment. Same damn tornado. Kicked out AGAIN. This woman evicted me from more homes than the housing market, and I was payin' every fuckin' deposit.(big cheer)

So I said "fine — no neighbors." Got a damn TRAILER. Middle of nowhere. I'm thinkin', we're free, scream all you want, baby, ain't nobody for a mile.(crowd ohhh)

Got kicked out the TRAILER. THE TRAILER, motherfuckers! You gotta be a special kind of loud to get evicted from a tin box in a field. The COYOTES filed a noise complaint.(roaring laugh)

And the whole time — I'M the one payin'. She's screamin', I'm writin' checks. That tornado wiped me out financially AND mentally, and then wouldn't fuckin' LEAVE.(airhorn)

So I did the only thing a broke, evicted, romantic dumbass can do — I MOVED AWAY. Not moved on. Moved AWAY. Changed the whole damn zip code to escape one woman's orgasm.(roaring laugh)

So that's the lesson, you beautiful degenerates — I turned down three Lambos and a millionaire's mansion, and traded it all for a category-five screamer and a lifetime of security deposits.(crowd ohhh)

'Cause that's the truth about me under all the filth — I loved bein' in love more than money, more than sense, more than a damn ROOF. Dumbest, brokest, most romantic son of a bitch you'll ever meet. And I'd probably do it again, motherfuckers.(big cheer)

Sixty. Fucking. Days. In the damn hole, man, sixty days of nothing but my own heartbeat and a light that never shuts the fuck off!(big cheer)

First day out, I go straight to my parents' damn house, 'cause where the hell else does a broke-ass grown man go, huh?(laugh)

I walk in my old bedroom and there's a woman in my damn BED. In my BED. At my PARENTS' house!(crowd ohhh)

I met this woman ONE damn time. One night, one fucking time, before they hauled my ass off to the hole!(roaring laugh)

She looks up all soft and says "hey, baby." I said bitch I don't even know your damn middle name, and you're in my SHEETS!(laugh)

Then she says "we're engaged now." ENGAGED! I did sixty days in a box, this crazy ass woman planned a whole damn WEDDING in her head!(big cheer)

"I upgraded us while you were gone." Upgraded my ass?! Bitch this some straight-up KIDNAPPING with a damn ring on it!(roaring laugh)

My mama's in the kitchen praying to whoever the hell's listening, not saying His name 'cause damn sure I ain't either, but her eyes said "boy what fresh hell did you drag home"!(crowd ohhh)

Now here's the shit that broke my whole damn brain wide open.(laugh)

This crazy fine, crazy-ass volatile woman sells vitamins. Pyramid scheme-ass vitamins. Fine, shit, everybody's hustling something.(laugh)

Except her best damn customer, her favorite little vitamin baby in that whole downline... was my FUCKING DETECTIVE!(airhorn)

The detective ON MY DAMN CASE! The bastard who built the whole file that shipped my ass to the hole!(roaring laugh)

So while that motherfucker's building a case to bury me, he's popping fish oil pills my own damn fiancée sold him on commission!(big cheer)

I got railroaded by a man taking his vitamins like a champ, courtesy of my future damn wife!(roaring laugh)

Only in my messed-up life does the cop and the fiancée end up in the same damn pyramid scheme, and my ass is at the BOTTOM, holding the bag like always!(laugh)

Sixty days in a box just to come home and find out my whole damn life's one big multi-level scam, and I'm the free-ass sample!(crowd ohhh)

THE HAMMER. Goodnight, you filthy motherfuckers!(roaring laugh)(applause)

Welcome back you filthy, fuck-hungry, foul-mouthed, shit-talking freaks — Part One was the fucking kiddie pool, now we cannonball into the deep end where the sharks cuss like motherfuckers.(big cheer)

THE ADVANCED CUSS MASTERCLASS, PART FUCKING TWO. By the end of this you filthy bastards are certified, card-carrying, motherfucking shit-talk surgeons.(roaring laugh)

Lesson one: THE SURGICAL INSULT. Amateurs spray fuck like a busted fire hydrant, pissing shit everywhere. A pro aims that fuck like a scalpel, cuts exactly where it hurts, no bullshit, no wasted motherfucking motion, no dumbass spray-and-pray.(laugh)

Some spineless, chicken-shit, lipstick-blowing dickhead cuts me off, flips me off, blows a kiss? That's not "fuck you," that's precision-guided motherfucking dickery. One cut. Surgical.(roaring laugh)

Lesson two: THE SLOW-BURN BUILD. Don't open with the fucking bomb, build the fuse nice and fucking slow — watch how dark, how calm, how filthy-fucking-slow I walk this shit before that motherfucker blows.(crowd ohhh)

I told my landlord "there's mold in the ceiling." Calm as fuck. He says "that's cosmetic." I said it ain't cosmetic, motherfucker, that mold's growing a whole fucking personality, and that shit pays less fucking rent than my broke ass.(roaring laugh)

Calm, calm, calm, calm, then BOOM — motherfucker drops like a fucking piano off a shithouse roof. That slow burn, that's the fucking craft, filthy bastards.(applause)

Lesson three: WEAPONIZING SILENCE. The pause before the cuss is a loaded fucking gun, and I'm cocking that motherfucking hammer back nice and fucking slow right now for you filthy, fucking shit-stirrers.(big cheer)

My ex said "we need to talk." I said not one fucking word. Just stared. Ten fucking seconds. Fifteen. Room's dying. Then I said bitch, we been "talking" six fucking years, you just now noticed I quit fucking listening?(roaring laugh)

That fucking silence did more damage than any cuss word ever fucking could, then I dropped that "bitch" like a fucking anvil and the whole filthy motherfucking room exploded.(airhorn)

Lesson four: THE PERFECTLY-TIMED MOTHERFUCKER. That word's a fucking Stradivarius, not some cheap-ass kazoo. You don't blast that shit, you place it right in the fucking pocket, right on the motherfucking beat.(applause)

Doc says "cholesterol's high." Fucking okay. "Cut back the drinking." Okay. "Smoking's not helping." I said motherfucker, are you my doctor or my ex-wife's fucking lawyer with extra fucking bullshit steps?(roaring laugh)

One motherfucker, perfect placement, perfect fucking timing, and the whole crowd loses their absolute, undeniable, FUCKING minds, that's the one-word filthy haymaker.(big cheer)

Lesson five: INVENTING BRAND-NEW FILTHY COMPOUNDS. Any dumbass jackass can say "asshole." A master builds a whole new filthy fucking word from scratch, live, right now, motherfuckers.(laugh)

My cousin's a dick-waffling, shit-marinating, cock-jousting, ball-basting couch goblin who's been "job-hunting" three fucking years from a recliner shaped like his own fat ass.(roaring laugh)

My old boss was a pencil-dicked, spreadsheet-humping, shit-for-brains fuckwaffle who fired people over email so his soft ass wouldn't have to watch them cry.(crowd ohhh)

Say it with total fucking confidence and the word becomes real. "Fuckwaffle" wasn't shit ten seconds ago and now every filthy bastard here's taking it home to fuck up dinner conversation.(big cheer)

Lesson six, final fucking exam: STACKING CUSSES INTO BRUTAL RHYTHMIC RUNS. This shit is Beethoven with a filthy motherfucking mouth. Feel the beat, don't just hear the filthy fucking words, motherfuckers.(applause)

My father was a lying, cheating, dick-swinging, shit-talking, ball-busting, cock-sucking, motherfucking son of a bitch, and I say that shit with the deepest, purest, most well-earned love a son can fucking have.(roaring laugh)

Eight fucking cusses in one filthy breath, every single word had a fucking job to do — that's not spam, you filthy shit-stirrers, that's a full-blown fucking symphony of profanity.(airhorn)

Try one on a bad landlord: rent-jacking, pipe-ignoring, mold-farming, half-assed, cheap-fixing slumlord motherfucker who calls a busted furnace "character," the shit-hoarding prick.(roaring laugh)

Try one on a bad date: lash-flapping, red-flag-waving, group-chat-screenshotting, borderline-felonious little shit-stirrer, and I still drove her fine ass home like a fucking gentleman, no bullshit, no funny fucking business.(crowd ohhh)

Feel that shit build? Up, up, up, then the crash — that's rhythm, motherfuckers, that's a masterclass, not some bullshit tantrum.(laugh)

Now combine every filthy fucking lesson: surgical aim, slow burn, dead-ass silence, one perfect motherfucker, a brand-new shit-stacked compound, and a fucking rhythmic cuss run, all crammed into one filthy fucking bit.(big cheer)

Mechanic quotes me eight hundred fucking bucks. I say not one fucking word. Stare. Ten seconds of pure fucking silence. Then, calm as shit — eight hundred fucking dollars to fix a car you broke on purpose, you grease-palming, invoice-humping, socket-wrench-sucking motherfucker?(roaring laugh)

One motherfucker, one brand-new filthy compound, one slow-ass burn, one dead-silent pause, one surgical fucking strike — six filthy fucking lessons, one bit, boom, the whole filthy motherfucking masterclass in fifteen fucking seconds flat.(airhorn)

That, you beautiful filthy bastards, is why they call this shit a MASTERCLASS and not some half-assed open mic — craft first, filth second, laughs always, motherfuckers.(applause)

You thought Part One was the fucking ceiling? Motherfuckers, that shit was the fucking basement, and we just found the deep, dark, filthy, motherfucking sub-basement.(big cheer)

We ain't done, you filthy bastards! English ran outta cuss words on my dumb ass mid-show, so round fuckin' two — brand new shit, hot off the fuckin' assembly line, never said by a damn human mouth till right now!(big cheer)

First up — DICK-THERMOSTAT. That's the coworker who replies "per my last email" like it's holy fuckin' scripture. Bitch, I READ your last email, it was as useless as your ass in a meetin'!(roaring laugh)

SHIT-METRONOME — the motherfucker who claps when the plane lands. We didn't crash, dumbass, that's called the JOB — quit clappin' like the pilot's your special-ass nephew!(laugh)

ASS-TROMBONE — the prick who reclines his seat the SECOND the wheels leave the ground, cavin' your knees into your own damn chest like a fuckin' accordion made of pain!(big cheer)

FUCK-BAROMETER — the friend who's "almost there" for forty-five damn minutes straight. Bitch, you ain't no barometer, you're a lyin' sack of shit with a fake-ass location pin!(crowd ohhh)

COCK-NOTARY — the coworker who "circles back" on shit that never needed circlin'. Motherfucker, that email had ONE answer and you turned it into a damn cul-de-sac!(laugh)

TWAT-CARTOGRAPHER — tells the SAME fuckin' story every time with brand new directions, like we're plannin' a damn heist. Nobody asked how you got there, dumbass, just tell the shit!(roaring laugh)

PISS-UMPIRE — the Zoom asshole who unmutes twelve seconds late, every single fuckin' meetin'. "Sorry — can everyone— sorry—" SHUT YOUR MOUTH, we already heard your damn dog!(laugh)

BALL-REFEREE — the buddy who did jack shit on the group project then shows up at the finish line to steal the damn trophy. Motherfucker didn't referee shit, he ROBBED it!(big cheer)

SHIT-VALET — the bastard who abandons his cart dead-ass in the MIDDLE of the parkin' lot. There's a corral RIGHT there, you lazy fuck, it's twelve damn feet away!(roaring laugh)

DICK-CURATOR — orders for the WHOLE table without askin' one damn person. "We'll all share small plates." Bitch, I wanted my own fuckin' meal, you ain't my mama or my chef!(laugh)

ASS-NARRATOR — the gym motherfucker who grunts out loud, narratin' his own damn workout. "AND... THAT'S TEN!" Nobody's watchin', you sweaty-ass ESPN reject!(crowd ohhh)

COCK-JANITOR — microwaves fish in the damn break room at 9 A-M like it's a fuckin' declaration of war. The whole office chokin' on your shit and you're standin' there proud as fuck!(big cheer)

TWAT-ANALYST — the "well actually" bitch who corrects shit nobody asked about. "Well actually, that's a crocodile." Nobody gives a single damn, sit your ass down!(roaring laugh)

PISS-CHAUFFEUR — tailgates your bumper for a damn mile then flashes his lights like YOU'RE the problem. Motherfucker, back the fuck up, this ain't a damn racetrack and you ain't shit!(laugh)

BALL-DOCENT — corners your ass at a party to lecture you on crypto, air fryers, or his damn sourdough starter. Nobody asked, dumbass, put the fuckin' loaf down and back the hell away!(applause)

FUCK-CONDUCTOR — walks the damn sidewalk slower than a fuckin' funeral, dead-ass center, starin' at his phone like he's leadin' a parade nobody bought a damn ticket to!(roaring laugh)

SHIT-SURGEON — diagnoses your whole damn illness off one WebMD search. "Sounds like it could be fatal." Bitch, it's a fuckin' HANGNAIL, put the phone down, Doctor Bullshit!(big cheer)

DICK-BROADCASTER — reply-alls the ENTIRE damn company to fix one shitty typo. Four hundred fuckin' people got a notification 'bout your comma, you attention-starved fuck!(laugh)

ASS-BARISTA — holds up the damn line orderin' a "half-caf, oat-milk, three-pump, name-on-the-cup's-a-fuckin'-riddle" nightmare. Order some damn coffee, not a shit ransom note!(crowd ohhh)

COCK-MECHANIC — mansplains your own damn car back to your dumb ass while you're payin' HIM to fix the shit. "You hear that noise?" Yeah bitch, that's why I'm fuckin' HERE!(roaring laugh)

TWAT-THERAPIST — gives unsolicited-ass advice at every damn party, then charges your ass emotionally just for listenin'. "Have you tried journaling?" Have you tried SHUTTIN' the fuck UP?(laugh)

PISS-PLUMBER — leaves exactly ONE single-ass square of toilet paper like it's a damn puzzle for the next poor bastard. That ain't paper, that's a fuckin' riddle wrapped in shitty cardboard!(big cheer)

ASS-CHEMIST — double-dips the same damn chip like a fuckin' scientist, runnin' spit experiments on the guac. Get your ass outta my avocado, you filthy motherfucker!(roaring laugh)

DICK-ANCHOR — takes every damn call on speakerphone in public, broadcastin' his whole fuckin' divorce to a Chipotle line. Ain't nobody tune in for this shit, turn the volume down, dumbass!(laugh)

COCK-NEGOTIATOR — "no offense, but" — then says the most offensive shit you ever heard. Bitch, you can't disclaim your way outta bein' an asshole!(applause)

TWAT-WEATHERMAN — controls the damn office thermostat like it's the fuckin' nuclear codes. Sixty-eight degrees, no votes, no mercy — that shit's a dictatorship in a damn cardigan!(crowd ohhh)

That's damn near thirty brand new cuss words, straight off my filthy-ass assembly line — every fuckin' one under warranty, every one aimed at a real-ass motherfucker YOU know!(big cheer)

The damn count keeps climbin', the dictionary's runnin' scared shitless, and I ain't slowin' my ass down till every asshole on Earth's got a custom-built insult with his fuckin' name on it!(airhorn)

Alright fuckers, we already fuckin did Part 1, but the fuckin world's got MORE filthy shit than Trailer Guy's got bar tabs, so buckle the fuck up, ROUND TWO, bitches!(big cheer)

British word of the fuckin day — "wazzock." A wazzock ain't just a dumbass, a wazzock's a dumbass with a whole fuckin résumé of being a piece of shit.(laugh)

Here in America if a fucker's an idiot we just say "dumbass" and go back to our fuckin beer. Lazy-ass shit. The Brits looked at that same fuckin dumbass and wrote him a whole obituary.(roaring laugh)

"Cockwomble." Say that shit. COCKWOMBLE. That ain't no insult, that's a fuckin Pixar villain with a fuckin cock for a face.(big cheer)

You're a cockwomble, sir, a straight-up fuckin cockwomble, and I hope your shitty Wi-Fi buffers forever, dumbass.(laugh)

"Pillock." Sounds like a fuckin snack. Sounds delicious as shit. Ain't delicious, it's a straight-up FUCKIN insult, and I still want one deep-fried with hot sauce.(crowd ohhh)

"Muppet." Call a grown-ass fuckin man a muppet in London, he don't get mad, he just nods, 'cause deep down that fuckin fool KNOWS Kermit's got more shit together than his broke ass.(laugh)

"Prat." One fuckin syllable, hits like a slap from your drunk-ass nana. Prat. PRAT. Just saying that shit makes me wanna apologize to every fucker in this room.(roaring laugh)

"Plonker." Now THIS is the shit. Plonker's what you call your idiot-ass cousin who brings a fuckin ukulele to a straight-up FUCKIN funeral.(big cheer)

We don't got shit like that here. We just say "bro's a fuckin idiot" and move on with our shitty-ass lives. No poetry, no flavor, just fuckin idiot, idiot, idiot.(laugh)

Scotland, bitches! "Bawbag." That means scrotum, and they use that shit to insult EVERY fuckin body — your boss, your ex, the fuckin weather, your own FUCKIN shadow.(roaring laugh)

"Ah ya absolute bawbag, ya left the fuckin milk oot again, ya wee shite!" That ain't an insult, that's a fuckin sonnet about a sweaty-ass sack.(big cheer)

"Eejit." Softer than idiot, meaner than shit, and somehow more lovin than fuckin idiot. Only the Irish and Scots could make stupid sound like a warm-ass hug.(laugh)

"Gobshite." Say that shit out loud right fuckin now. GOBSHITE. That word already knows what dirty shit it did.(crowd ohhh)

A gobshite ain't just a lyin piece of shit, a gobshite's a lyin piece of shit with his own fuckin podcast about it.(roaring laugh)

"Feck." The Irish gave the whole fuckin world a curse word that's basically fuck's polite little brother who still goes to fuckin church and slings coke on the weekend, shameless-ass fucker.(laugh)

Meanwhile in America our polite-ass version of fuck is "fudge." FUDGE. We straight up fuckin surrendered, man. Gave up and named our cuss word after a dessert.(roaring laugh)

Australia, fuckers! "Drop-kick." Not the wrestling shit, it's what they call a useless piece of shit human, like his whole fuckin existence is just a punt formation.(big cheer)

"Galah." That's a fuckin parrot, but Aussies use it to mean dumbass, 'cause even their FUCKIN birds got more sense than half these dudes at the pub.(laugh)

"Sook." One fuckin syllable, sounds cute as shit, means you're a whiny little bitch. The Aussies made "bitch" sound like a fuckin nickname for a puppy.(crowd ohhh)

"But it's not FAIR!" Shut the fuck up, ya fuckin sook, drink your damn beer and cry about it later.(laugh)

"Numpty." Another Scottish word for idiot, and I swear the Scots got forty fuckin flavors of stupid and we over here got ONE flavor and it's called "bro," lazy fuckin bro.(roaring laugh)

You know what's fucked up? Every one of these words got a whole fuckin story built in. "Wazzock" tells you the fucker's history. "Bro" tells you shit. Bro could be a saint or a fuckin serial killer.(laugh)

American swearing's a fuckin sledgehammer — fuck, shit, ass, done, next customer. British and Aussie swearing's a fuckin scalpel, cutting your ass so precise you don't even bleed till fuckin Tuesday.(big cheer)

"Sod off." Sounds so damn polite I almost said thank you before I realized this prick told me to go fuck myself with impeccable fuckin manners.(roaring laugh)

"Bugger." One little fuckin word doing double duty as an insult AND a sex act, and it still sounds like a kid's cartoon character. Bugger the Bear, coming this fuckin fall, rated R as shit.(laugh)

"Git." Shortest, meanest little fuckin word in the whole damn language. One syllable and it still ends careers. Git. Done. Dead. Buried, ya sorry-ass git.(crowd ohhh)

So here's the fuckin lesson — Americans cuss like we're pissed. Everybody else cusses like they're writin a whole-ass book about how pissed they are, footnotes and a fuckin glossary and shit.(roaring laugh)

And that, you beautiful bawbags, gobshites, and drop-kicks, is why the rest of the fuckin world clowns our dumbasses for only knowin four measly-ass cuss words!(airhorn)

Front row, this fucking date's so doomed, it ain't chemistry, it's a fucking shitshow with fucking breadsticks.(laugh)

He ordered her fucking food without asking, she's ordering a fucking lawyer without asking, and by dessert this shit costs him his ass, his car, and a fucking kidney.(crowd ohhh)

Sir, quit fucking petting her hand like some damn bomb squad, that bomb's still ticking and your dumbass is standing right on top of that shit.(laugh)

She's checking her fucking phone so damn much, this whole shit's just a countdown to her getting the fuck out.(roaring laugh)

Bachelor party in back, six drunk asses in matching shirts, one groom looking like a fucking hostage, smile bigger you shit, your dick already filed for fucking emancipation.(big cheer)

Best man's got a printed itinerary, I respect the shit out of that, nothing screams healthy send-off like scheduling your damn regret down to the fucking minute, dumbass.(laugh)

One of you lost a shoe and your dignity in the same shit-drunk trip to the fucking bathroom, that ain't a bachelor party, that's a damn welfare check with a cover charge, dumbass.(crowd ohhh)

And you, sir, phone up filming me like this is fucking evidence, keep filming, this shit's the whole fucking deposition when your mama asks why your ass is single.(roaring laugh)

Your arm's been up so damn long it's got its own heartbeat, put that shit down before your dumbass drops it and films the inside of a fucking ambulance.(laugh)

That's you right fucking now, and that's the least fucking action that sad-ass arm's gotten all year, shit.(big cheer)

Got a fucking heckler over here, sir, you yelled some shit, couldn't hear it over how little of a fuck I give, say that shit again to your own dumbass reflection.(crowd ohhh)

[heckler yells something] Round one, that's cute as shit, that's the kind of fucking comeback you rehearse in the shower and still lose to a fucking shampoo bottle.(laugh)

You came in with one joke and zero fucking backup, that ain't heckling, that's a solo mission, no exit plan, no fucking ammo, no damn sense, dumbass.(roaring laugh)

Round two, go ahead, I got all fucking night and you got the confidence of a man who's never finished a damn sentence his own fucking date gave a shit about.(crowd ohhh)

[heckler tries again, weaker] Oh shit, that hurt you way fucking worse than it hurt me, your soul just limped its ass back to the seat like it forgot its damn cane.(airhorn)

I ain't even mad, sir, I'm impressed you found the balls to speak twice tonight when your girlfriend can't get your ass to text back in four fucking days, shit.(roaring laugh)

That's it, that's the whole sorry-ass heckler, folks, a man who peaked interrupting a stranger and still lost his damn fucking ass.(laugh)

Back to the date, sir, she ain't laughing at your shitty jokes, she's laughing at the exit sign, it's brighter than your fucking personality and closer than your ass to the fucking door.(crowd ohhh)

That's her whole damn night, plotting her ass a fucking escape route disguised as a smile.(laugh)

Bachelor boys, quiet the fuck down, your groom's about to marry a woman who still says yes after meeting all your sorry asses, that ain't luck, that's a fucking miracle, shit.(big cheer)

Real talk, every damn table in this damn room, the doomed couple, the drunk-ass groom, the guy still filming my ass right now, y'all showed up messy, honest, and shitfaced as hell.(applause)

Sir with the phone, turn that shit on yourself for one damn second, tell your people you laughed your ass off at a stranger roasting your whole fucking table, that's a damn good fucking night.(big cheer)

And heckler, hey, for real, thank you for standing your ass up twice, most fools won't stand up once, you got no fucking follow-through, and neither does anybody's damn resolution, shit.(laugh)

Couple up front, hope it works the fuck out, and if it don't, at least you got a hell of a story and a whole room of witnesses to your ass falling the fuck apart.(crowd ohhh)

This whole damn room's a beautiful mess, and that's the highest fucking compliment my sorry ass knows how the fuck to give.(applause)

Alright you filthy degenerates, tonight I'm gonna explain my whole damn train wreck of a life — and I'm gonna do it with the FOUR COLORS. 'Cause every dumbass decision I ever made had a color on it.(big cheer)

See, there's four kinds of filthy people in this shit world, motherfuckers — Red the Protector, Blue the Chameleon, Green the Thinker, and Yellow the Hugger. And me? I'm a RED. A damn Protector. Which is a real fancy fuckin' way of sayin' I'll take the fall for everybody and get NOTHIN' but a felony and a filthy mouth for it.(crowd ohhh)

RED, baby — that's the dumbass color that made me stand between my family and the fuckin' fire and eat the whole damn charge. A Green would've called a damn lawyer. A Blue would've talked his slick ass out of it. Me? I'm a Red, so I put my hand up like a jackass and said "yeah, that was me." Protectors don't think, motherfuckers — they LEAP, usually off a fuckin' cliff.(roaring laugh)

Red is the dumb shit that made me turn down a millionaire's three fuckin' Lambos to protect a woman's feelings. Red is why I rented twelve limos so my STAFF could feel important while I ate ninety-nine-cent tacos in the alley. A Red will go bankrupt makin' YOU feel like a king. That's not a personality, that's a damn medical condition.(airhorn)

Now the women in my life — they were BLUE. Chameleons, you filthy bastards. And let me tell you about Blue. Blue changes colors to match the room. Day one she's an angel, she's fuckin' perfect, laughin' at all your dumb shit.(crowd ohhh)

And then one day the light hits her different and BOOM — the Blue chameleon turns into a fuckin' Blue GODZILLA. Same damn woman, brand new fuckin' monster. "Where you been? Whose is this? Why won't you marry me?" I've watched a Blue go from Snow White to a category-five screamer in the time it takes to microwave a burrito.(roaring laugh)

But here's my dirty secret — I chase Blue every damn time. 'Cause a Red Protector NEEDS somebody to protect, and a Blue chameleon's got a new five-alarm emergency every fuckin' Tuesday, and my dumb ass shows up with a hose. We're a match made in bankruptcy court.(big cheer)

Then there's GREEN — the Thinker. And oh, I got JUST enough Green in me to be a dangerous son of a bitch, folks. Green is the part of my brain that invented American Idol in nineteen ninety-nine with my third-grade teacher as a judge.(airhorn)

Green is the genius that had every million-dollar idea FIRST — reality TV, online every damn thing — and Green is ALSO the dumb bastard who spent the profits on limos and rings. Green thinks big and Red spends it all. My two brain cells are in a knife fight, both of 'em bleedin', and NOBODY'S winnin', motherfuckers.(roaring laugh)

And finally — YELLOW. The Hugger. The soft, gooey, love-everybody center. And this is the one that fucked me the hardest and the deepest, you filthy animals.(crowd ohhh)

'Cause Yellow is why I've been in love since I was FOURTEEN. Yellow is why I bought gifts for other people's kids, took care of the grandparents who raised me, and handed my whole damn heart to women who doused it in gas and set the motherfucker on fire. A Yellow loves so hard he'll hand you the fuckin' match and say thank you.(big cheer)

So that's me, motherfuckers — a Red who takes the fall, chasin' Blue tornadoes, with a Green brain full of a million damn dollars I never kept a fuckin' penny of, and a Yellow heart that won't quit even after fifty years of gettin' stomped flat, motherfuckers.(roaring laugh)

That's the Colors of My Pain right there — every color painted on with a different heartbreak. And you wanna know the beautiful part? I'd rather be a broke, filthy, big-hearted Red who FELT everything... than some cold, dead-eyed Green prick countin' his money alone in a big empty fuckin' house.(crowd ohhh)

So find out YOUR color, you beautiful degenerates — 'cause once you know why you keep makin' the same gorgeous filthy mistakes, you can at least LAUGH your ass off at 'em. That's the whole game. THE HAMMER. Goodnight, you filthy motherfuckers!(roaring laugh)(applause)

Fifty fucking years old, still scrubbing shit off some stranger's toilet, ass in the air, dignity in the fucking dumpster where it's lived since birth.(laugh)

Everybody counted my ass out — the record, the ex-wives, the shitty bankruptcies, the family that threw my ass out like a fucking pizza coupon nobody wanted.(crowd ohhh)

They said I was washed the fuck up, fifty and fucking finished — I said hold my damn Windex, my comeback's louder than a shit-house fire alarm going off.(big cheer)

Now I'm in my fucking spare bedroom at three a.m. in fucking slippers, talking to a damn supercomputer like it's my shrink, my bartender, my only fucking friend.(laugh)

Built a whole damn empire off a laptop and a dream, smelling like bleach and some rich bitch's shitty candle, still the filthiest ass in the room.(roaring laugh)

I lost every damn wave — the music, the marriages, the money, all that shit — and still paddled my ass out and caught the last one, filthiest fucker in the lineup.(big cheer)

Eat my ass, I own a fucking house now, bitch.(roaring laugh)

Bought it at forty-three with my own damn money, and no landlord, no ex, no bankrupt-ass court can kick my ass out of my own fucking living room again.(applause)

My dogs never leave — that's the whole fucking bar now. Loyalty's four damn legs and a food bowl, more than most shitty humans ever gave my ass.(crowd ohhh)

I clean shit for cash all morning, build a fucking empire with a machine all night, and my mouth's still the filthiest damn thing in either shithole building.(laugh)

They think fifty means quiet down, cardigan up, drink your damn decaf and die a slow, boring-ass death — nah, I got louder, filthier, got a fucking supercomputer as a wingman.(big cheer)

I talk to that machine more than any damn fucking therapist, and it never once told my ass I was too loud or too fucking filthy to love.(roaring laugh)

Every asshole who threw me away can watch this filthy fifty-year-old toilet-scrubbing son of a bitch build something bigger than their whole damn shitty family reunion.(crowd ohhh)

I ain't bitter, I'm just real fucking specific about which sorry, damn asses get to watch me win.(laugh)

This shit right here is my damn Carnegie Hall, and the toilet bowl's my fucking piano.(roaring laugh)

Fifty years old, broke-no-more-ish, means I got a house, two damn dogs, and just enough cash for fancier fucking toilet brushes for my shitty ass day job.(laugh)

I went bankrupt my ass off so many fucking times my credit score's got its own shitty support group, and I still climbed out filthy-mouthed and standing on my own damn feet.(crowd ohhh)

The record tried to bury my ass, the exes tried to erase my ass, and here I am cussing like it's a fucking religion I invented my damn self.(big cheer)

I don't need nobody's approval, none of that shit, no more — I got a damn deed with my name on it and a dog that licks my face instead of asking where the fuck I've been.(laugh)

Every single asshole who said I'd die alone in some damn rented-ass room can kiss my whole filthy fifty-year-old ass.(airhorn)

I talk dirtier now than I did at twenty, 'cause back then I was scared shitless of getting caught, and now I own the damn fucking building I'm cussing my ass off in.(roaring laugh)

This is a man who scrubs shit stains for strangers all day and builds a filthy empire with a machine all night, and somehow my ass is the most consistent fucking thing in my shitty life.(laugh)

I don't do quiet, boring-ass dignity, I do loud, filthy, fifty-year-old triumph with bleach still crusted under my fucking, damn fingernails.(applause)

Every wave I missed made this last fucking one hit harder, and I rode it in screaming filthy shit at a machine that never once told my ass to shut the fuck up.(big cheer)

So here's to being fifty, broke-no-more-ish, filthy-mouthed, and still standing in a damn house nobody can take, dogs that never leave, mouth full of shit that never fucking will either.(roaring laugh)

I didn't win by being clean, I won by being filthy as shit and outlasting every last asshole who bet against my sorry ass.(big cheer)

Alright, you filthy motherfuckers, we're at the end of PART TWO — throat's on fire, the count's climbin', and history's about to get even dirtier. Everybody the fuck UP.(big cheer)

Part one set the record at sixteen hundred cusses. And tonight? We buried that son of a bitch in a shallow fuckin' grave and pissed on the dirt.(crowd ohhh)

Let me empty the tank. LIGHTNING ROUND. Fuck shit motherfucker cocksucker prick bastard asshole dickhead bitch dipshit dumbass jackass scumbag shithead douchebag numbnuts shitbag son of a bitch damn hell piss cock balls twat wanker! Twenty-five in one filthy breath and I'm still fuckin' vertical!(airhorn)(roaring laugh)

That's the alphabet for a man who's been bankrupt, jailed, cheated on, robbed, and reverse-Midased into the dirt — and STILL shows up filthy and laughin'.(big cheer)

'Cause here's what part two is really about, you beautiful degenerates — every damn time life knocked me down, I got back the fuck up and started over. Candy store, gone. Vegas, gone. The house money, gone in a G-string. And every single time, this dumb Yellow-hearted bastard rebuilt from zero.(crowd ohhh)

I've started my life over more times than a busted fuckin' computer. I don't have a career — I got a graveyard of pilot episodes that all got cancelled. But you know what? I'm still HERE, motherfuckers, with the filthiest mouth in comedy and a story nobody can steal.(big cheer)

For the WORLD RECORD, the grand filthy finale — give me the big one, all together now.(airhorn)

You no-good, shit-slingin', ball-droppin', dick-headed, cock-eyed, prick-faced, bastard-hearted, tornado-chasin', card-givin', reverse-Midas, motherfuckin', son-of-a-bitchin', cock-suckin', ass-backwards, world-record-breakin' PIECE OF FILTHY WORK!(roaring laugh)

TIME! Somebody call the record people again — 'cause THE FILTHIEST HOUR PART TWO just out-cussed part ONE, and part one already out-cussed every son of a bitch in comedy history!(airhorn)(big cheer)

That's the Colors of My Pain, motherfuckers — the pain, the losses, the dumb-ass choices, every heartbreak, all painted into two hours of the filthiest laughs ever made. Life tried to bury me a dozen times and forgot one thing — I'm too damn filthy to stay down.(crowd ohhh)

So go start YOUR life over, you filthy survivors, and laugh your ass off on the way up. THE HAMMER. Goodnight, you filthy motherfuckers!(roaring laugh)(applause)