So many millions of miserable people are out there not overeating, not smoking, not drinking, not masturbating! No wonder you’re all so depressed. And why? To be good? Because “God’s watching you”? I got a little secret I’ll let you in on: God’s got better things to do than watch you play with your pee-pee.

You know, I was checking out that plane that crashed in the Rocky Mountains last week. Three hundred people dead. Boom! Like that. Body parts all over the snow. It was awesome. And all I could think was, I wonder how many of them were on a diet? How many were trying to stop smoking? Hey, they’re smokin’ now baby!

Only one thing I can’t get you and that’s peace of mind. It’s not my thing. I honestly think it’s overrated. All these people trying to chill out and calm down and be serene. You’ll have plenty of time to be serene when you’re six feet under in a box. You want serenity, you gotta go to those other guys, Jesus and Buddha. See what that gets you. A REALLY BORING LIFE. But what do I know, I’ve only been in business for over five thousand years! Fuck me.

So come on down and sign on the dotted line, you know you want to. We’re here for you, twenty-four-seven/three-sixty-five. Especially Christmas and Easter. Time to start living!

THE AIRPORT

Addresses the audience:

So I’m in the airport the other day. It’s a special experience going to an airport these days. It’s pretty much a paradigm for life as we know it today. There are only two modes: running and waiting. You know the drill, you’ve all been to the airport. Hundreds, thousands of people. Running, waiting. Or some variation thereof: running to wait, waiting to run. Standing in ticket lines, sitting in the departure lounge, crowded around the baggage carousel watching the luggage coming out as if awaiting the birth of your first child: “Oooooh! Look, look! Here it comes!” Washing and flushing in the smelly restrooms. They never stop cleaning the bathrooms at the airport. Trying to take a leak while some guy mops around your feet. (Miming harried pisser) “Just a sec, just a sec!!!” (Hops from one foot to the next, still holding onto his dick) “How’s that?”

Drinking in the bar area, sitting on those ugly bent chrome-and-naugahyde stools watching the drop-down color TV, watching live coverage of plane crashes from around the world. Snacking in the snack area, being served by the sullen Mexicans and Pakistanis shoveling out the tacos and nachos and hot dogs and doughnuts and pizza. Chewing furiously like rodents before dragging their dirty little spoiled children from Cleveland to Orlando to Denver to Philly to L.A.

(Starts running in circles, illustrating:)