I do a lot of shows in the South. And I come back to New York City and other comics hear I did a show in Alabama, and they’re like, Whoa, what was that like?
And I’m like… It was a show, with me, and a stage, and an audience… [shrugs] What?
But I can tell they wanna know [dramatic whisper]
what it’s REALLY LIKE.
And I don’t like to disappoint.
So I tell them.
We land at the Birmingham airport. When I get off the plane, the Grand Wizard of the KKK meets me there.
Together we ride bareback on an old mule down a dirt road to the club.
When I get there I can barely do my routine over the shouts of Jewboy go home.
After the the show I ask for cash but they pay me in pork rinds.