For What It’s Worth

[Host:]
Why’d you pick San Francisco to shoot your special?

[Dave Chappelle]
This is one of the best towns that ever knew comedy and this is the most historic venue you got as far as comedians are concerned because Lenny Bruce ripped it down here. Yeah, all the best came through the Bay. What about Richard? What about Robin Williams? Carlin? Mooney? You don’t necessarily have to be the biggest star. As long as you come with it then people coming out, they like to see live performances, because it’s a savvy audience.

[Host:]
San Francisco, are you ready! I don’t think he can hear you. Are you ready! Welcome to the show. Here’s Dave Chappelle! Woooooooo!

[Dave Chappelle]
Oh, man. Oh, shit, oh, shit. Yes, bring it on, bring it, man. Yes, thank you. Thank you, all. Thank you for coming. Goddamn. I did it big this year. From CABLE, nigga, goddamn. Thanks for coming out, and thanks for making a nigga feel comfortable... in "The Gayest Place On Earth." You guys got Disney World jealous about this, motherfuckers! Man, I didn’t really think it was that gay at first. Because I thought, "What is there about it?" Because when I was coming out here everyone was like, "Man, that place is REALLY GAY."

So what the fuck is everybody talking about? It’s not so gay. And then I wandered into that Castro. Goddamn, it was – I said, “This is America’s anus right here. This shit is deep.” I went to that Tenderloin. ...There’s nothing tender about that motherfucker at all, that shit was ROUGH; the OPPOSITE of tender. I have never seen crack smoked so CASUALLY before. These niggas were sitting in front of Starbucks, smoking crack AND drinking coffee. I said, "This is off the hook..." Talking about politics.

I’ve seen one crack-head trying to break into somebody’s car, man, and it struck a chord with me. I tried to stop it. I said, “Hey!” And he looked back and saw me and said, “Keep an eye out.” I said, “Nigga, that was ME that said that! I’m not trying to "help" you. I want this shit to stop!”

Crack-heads are like that. I had a crack-head break my car window one time. Broke it! You know what he stole? Fucking candy bar I had lying on the seat. That’s all he took. Just a goddamn candy bar. I was so mad; I drove around the neighborhood for five hours looking for a crack-head with chocolate on his face. I did that. I finally found him, I grabbed that motherfucker. I said, “Hey, man, what’s all this chocolate on your face, motherfucker?” He looked confused. "Chocolate? This is doo-doo, baby.” I said, "Ahh!" Oh, man. This place is insane.

But you know what I like about San Fran and the reason I picked this city to do my special is because of all the major cities in America, somehow people get along here better than anywhere else I’ve seen in the country. That’s right. That’s right. And I always admire San Fran for that. And today, I’ve realized how you did it.

Put all the niggas on the "other side" of that bridge.

There’s nothing – this shit ain’t happy on that side. If you leave San Francisco, they’re like, “Bye, thanks for coming to San Francisco. Come back in April, we’re having a sale on Birkenstocks.” As soon as you get to the other side, “Welcome to Oakland, bitch.” Click. Click. It’s fucking crazy.

But it also feels like it’s an East Coast city in the West Coast. You guys got subways and shit. I’m scared of public transportation.

I was on a bus that was held hostage, 45 minutes.

It wasn’t life-threatening. I don’t want to give you that impression. It was a dude jerking off, but the shit was scary, son, it was scary.

Because right before it happened, I was on the bus smoking a cigarette. It’s a long story. It’s not the coolest shit I ever did, and people freaked out. –

“Sir! Sir, put that goddamn cigarette out, okay?” This is everybody’s air, sir.”

– I flicked it. I didn’t want any trouble.

And just at that moment, coincidentally, this homeless dude, out of nowhere pulls his dick out, started beating off. And I was furious... because NOBODY's saying SHIT to THIS guy! They were just looking like, “My God.” I was the only one on the bus that had the balls to say anything to him. It’s not even like I was brave really, it was that... you know... I was sitting next to the motherfucker. I had to say something. –

"Come on, dog, you’re hitting my elbow. Stop. Son, just stop."

– It’s all I said. I was – I didn’t want to say too much. Guy’s beating off on the bus means there’s something wrong with this motherfucker. He’s not wrapped so tight and I didn’t want to push him over the edge.

Soon as I said something, all these dummies on the bus, now they’re brave. –

“Oh, he’s right. Put your goddamn cock away. I don’t want to see this anymore.”
“I don’t want to see it either.”
“Yeah!”

– Now, the guy flips out. –

“All right, everybody, back up! BACK. THE FUCK. UP! I tried to be nice about this!”

– Now, everybody freaks out. “Oh, my God, it’s a biological attack, oh...” I’m caught in the middle. I can’t lose my cool. I said, –

“Hey, everybody, just calm the fuck down or you’re going to get me shot!” “Let’s all just be cool.” “Let’s do what this man says, so he’ll leave us alone.”

– Now everybody gets quiet. –

“That’s BETTER. That is better...”

– And then he started walking up and down the aisles, just terrorizing us. And then he starts making demands. –

“You in the pink shirt, squeeze your tits together.” “Oh, God, no, no...”

"You! Stick your finger in your butt.”
“Why? Oh, God, why is this happening? Oh, God, Oh God.”

– He was working my way. This shit was tight. Just that minute, I got saved, dudes! I was so lucky. This guy, at the other end of the bus, he snapped. He lost his mind. I'd seen it happen. He screamed out, “Rush him! He can’t cum on all of us!" and he charged down the aisle. And it’s like a movie -- This homeless dude’s seen him coming. He shot one off. –

“Ahhh!" *POOF*

– I dodged that shit like The Matrix, nigga -- ohhh.
...The guy behind me wasn’t so lucky, though. –

“No, noooo!” *THUMP*

– That shit was gross.

It didn’t kill him, but it was – I’m sure that fucked his day up.

You’re not going to have a normal day if a homeless dude busts a nut on your forehead at 8:30 in the morning. That’s a WRAP on the rest of the day. This guy was freaking out. –

“It burns! Ahhh, ahh, ahh!!”

– Everyone was standing around looking at him. Even the homeless dude felt bad. I guess he was finished; he came back to his senses. –

"Oh, this is my stop.”

– I said,–

“Relax, motherfucker.”

– I had to say something.–

“Relax.”
“Oh, I can’t. I got AIDS, I know it.”

– I said, –

“You can’t get AIDS from a homeless dude busting a nut on your forehead. That’s not how it spreads!”

– ...I don’t even *know* if that shit's true. That’s just what I TOLD him, man! He was so scared, I had to say something.

I don’t know where AIDS comes from. Who the fuck knows? Scientists don’t even know. Scientists still say AIDS started because somebody had sex with a monkey. Word? After all these researches, the best explanation that you came up with – NOBODY fucks monkeys AND people, you idiot!
You either "fuck monkeys", or you "fuck people." That’s it. There’s no... in-between.

...You’re not going to get monkey pussy on Tuesday and then be like, “Well, let me call Charlene,” on Thursday. No! Once you've fucked a monkey, that’s a FIRM DECISION. I’m OUT of the human pussy game, FOR GOOD. It’s ridiculous!

They act like monkeys are just as open as waiting for people to fuck them, man. Monkeys don’t want to be fucked by people! Think about it. Think about *how hard* it would be... to CATCH a monkey... and FUCK it. That’s ridiculous. That’s how it had to go down. Do you think you’re just going to walk up to him, in the woods, and bribe this nigga with fruits and bananas? –

“Hey, buddy, hey.”
(mimes offering the food)
“Yeah, there you go, buddy... yeaahhh.”
(mimes petting followed by bottom-groping)
“There you goooo, with your big, bright red ass.”
(mimes unzipping his pants)
(whisper)
“This big bright red bootyyyy.”

– Do you know how *strong* a monkey is? It would rip your dick off, like a celery stalk. "Grrr." Throw that shit in the tall grass, to never be seen again? –

“...Hey, dog, we’re going to go to the club, pick up some girls, you trying to roll?”

“No, man, I’m cool. I’m going to stay home, dog, chill with my monkey. ...You know how long it took me to train this monkey to suck my dick without peeling it? Mmm! Last night, Chimp-Chimp jerked me off with his feet, nigga. Only a 'monkey' can show you that kind of love and tenderness. So you all keep fucking these people if you want, niggas. It's more monkey pussy for MEEE! ...I’m hooking up with an 'orangutang' next week. That's all I fuck, is chimps and orangutaaaangs.”

– You know who I feel real bad for, is Indians. Everybody feels bad for the Indians. They get dogged openly, because everybody thinks they’re *dead.* These motherfuckers are not all dead, alright?! I’ve seen, with my own eyes, I’ve seen a gathering of 1,500 Native Americans. They were all gathered in one place.

The place is called Wal-Mart in New Mexico.

There was Indians everwhere. I’d never seen Indians before! I wasn’t even sure if they were Indians... It was fucked up, but I *asked* one of them. It’s not nice, but... I seen them in the sports section, looking at bows and arrows; I had to say SOMETHING. –

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, um... are you an Indian?”

And he was cool.

“Yes. Yes, I am Indian.”

– I still didn’t believe him. I had to test him and be sure. This is fucked up. But I had a gum wrapper in my pocket. So, I balled that shit up and I threw it on the floor. And... a single tear came out his eye! I said, “Oh, shit! I have so many questions."

I said, “What tribe are you from?”

“I am a Navajo.”

I said, “Word? I studied you in Social Studies. You’re a hunter-gatherer, correct?”

He said, “I guess so, if that’s what you wish to call it.”

I said, “Why, what do you call it?”

He said, “I am... an alcoholic.”

I said, “Well, what’s your name, dawg?”

He said, “Please, Dog is my cousin. That’s a good guess. My name is Running Coyote. What is your name, friend?”

And that shit caught me off guard. I didn’t want to say my name was *Dave* to a motherfucker named Running Coyote. It just don’t feel good enough. He’s putting me on the spot.

I said, “Huh, My name? What?! Oh, my name’s Black Feet.”

Then I changed the subject, “Forget about me. What’s going on with you? I want to meet your chief. Why don’t me, you, and your Chief, and your friends get together tonight? We could have a real-life peace pipe-smoking ritual; We need to celebrate nigga, 'cause I thought you were DEAD.”

And he set it up! It was beautiful. Oh, It was just like I dreamed... We was all sitting around. The Indians was beating the drum.

(tribal drum beat)

Some other Indians came out the back with a long blanket that was folded in half and put in front of us.

(tribal drum beat)

Opened that shit up, and on the blanket was a long wooden pipe with feathers... and bags of weed were *all over* the blanket. The chief walked over.

(tribal drum beat)

"The big ones are 50. The little ones are 25 and these are 10.”

Maaaan, those Indians got HIGH as SHIT. I was baked. I told the chief! He was talking, I cut him off.

“Time out, Chief. Sorry to interrupt. I’m fucking *smashed*, man. The weed is... too strong! You *sure* this isn’t PCP?! The spirits have got me! Chief, the SPIRITS have GOT ME!” And the Chief threw some water in my face.

“Calm down, Blackface.” Splash.

I said, “Hey, it’s Black *Feet*, motherfucker. Take it easy!”

“Black Feet, you are welcome to stay amongst me and my tribe for the night, *until* the spirits leave you.”

And they gave me my own teepee to sleep in, which *sounds* nice. I personally felt like I was 'a little' fucked up. You know, because they all had *houses*, man. It’s like, why can’t I sleep with you all in the house and watch TV? Like, I can’t be on this grass all night. The Indians is rude, man.

Everybody’s rude, the Indians, they’re eating nasty food, all they ate was corn and shit.

Doritos, I think they called it.

That’s right.. People only see the surface. They see the division in our 'foods.' Just because I eat "chicken and watermelon..." They think there’s something wrong with ME. Let me tell you something, if you don’t like chicken or watermelon something is wrong with YOU motherfucker, there’s something WRONG with you. *Where* are all these 'people' that don’t like chicken and watermelon? I’m sick of hearing about how bad it is. It’s GREAT. I’m waiting for chicken to approach me to do a commercial, nigga.

"I’ll do it for FREE, chicken! It’s the *least* I can do."

They make fun of Latin people for eating – what you all eat? Beans? Rice? Corn? Listen, that’s *not* a reason to hate a motherfucker, all right? It’s FUNNY, but it’s *not* a reason to HATE.

The only reason these things are even an *issue* is because... nobody 'knows' what "white people" eat. You’ve been *very* good at keeping that shit a SECRET, amongst yourselves. I STUDY white people. You don’t know that. I’m writing a *paper* on you. Not even for school, nigga. Just to do it, just to – I’m just doing this as independent research. I’m spending my money. That’s why I’m working so hard. I follow you around grocery stores. They freak out. I just try to peek in their cart.

They always say, “GET away from my cart, nigger! What’re you *looking* at? ...Chicken and giblets are over THERE! You *must* be lost. These are VEGETABLES.”

...I know what you drink. (snaps) See how quiet it got?

Grape juice.

SURPRISE, motherfuckers! You didn’t know I knew about grape juice, did you? Oh! Don’t play dumb with me. Like, "Ah, what is it?"

A lot of black people don’t have the privilege of knowing about grape juice because THEY... have *grape DRINK*. It’s not the same *formula* that you get. Ain’t no *vitamins* in that shit.

You might have one of your black friends over, “Todd? Todd, would you care for a glass of grape juice?”

“What?! Nigga, WHAT *the fuck* is 'juice?!' I want some *grape drink*, baby. Mmm.. It’s *purple.*

"I don’t think I know what a grape drink is.”

“Whaaat?”

“I have some apple juice if you want.”

“What THE FUCK is JUICE?! I WANT SOME *APPLE* DRINK! It’s greeeeeen.”

Remember that commercial for Sunny Delight? When all the kids run in from outside playing and they all run to the fridge?

“All right, I got some purple stuff, some Sunny D.”

As soon as they say “Sunny D,” all the kids go, “Yeah!” Watch the black kid in the back. If you ever see that commercial, look at that black kid.

He’d be like, “I want that purple stuff.” That’s drink, nigga, it’s drink. They want drink. They don’t want all them *vitamins*, man. They want drink. SUGAR, water, PURPLE!

That’s the ingredients: sugar, water... and of course, *purple.*

It’s too fucking much.

...I got a lot of things to talk about tonight! First of all, I’ve stopped smoking weed. ...With *black* people; You didn’t let me finish, motherfuckers. Goddamn.

I’m sorry, black people, to break the news so publicly, but I *can’t* smoke with you anymore.

*Every* time I smoke weed with my black friends, all you talk about is your 'trials' and 'tribulations.' I’m SICK of that shit. I got my OWN problems. Nigga, that's a *waste* of weed. I’m smoking weed to run away from MY problems, not take on YOURS.

From now on, I smoke weed *exclusively* with white people.

Calm down, motherfuckers, you win by default.

You got good *weed* conversation. All 'white people' talk about when they get *high,* is OTHER times that THEY got HIGH. I could listen to that shit all night.

“Dude, remember at Frank’s last week? I was fucking SMASHED, man.”

And catalogs everything they drink.

“I had two shots of Jäger, tequila... four bong hits, man. Beer; cheeseburger...” That shit is great.

The only bad part is... you CANNOT pass OUT around WHITE PEOPLE. Every time white dudes pass out around each other they always do some... borderline-gay shit when the guys are asleep.

“Frank fell asleep so we, like, stuck a carrot in his ass... and put shaving cream on his balls...”

Why, motherfucker? Why’d you do that to a friend of yours? He trusted you to sleep around you and you’re going to put a carrot in his ass? Is that – is that nice?

I’ll tell you right now, if I put a carrot in a black dude’s ass, that nigga will KILL YOU when he wakes up for some shit like that. That is an automatic... death sentence on the street. It’s a WRAP for you.

“I’m gonna KILL that motherfucker.”
“I thought y'all was friends, baby? What happened?”
“I fell asleep at his house, right? I was drinking and I fell asleep at his house and while I was sleeping, right? ...I’m just going to KILL that motherfucker, all right, that’s ALL you NEED to KNOW... and FUCK carrots.”

But everybody’s getting along. I see that shit. I see it all around, blacks and whites don’t fight so much.

You know who don’t have no beef with anybody is Asian people. I see how ya’ll been doing. You all just lay in the cut. I’ll tell you, the only people Asian people beef with is other Asian people. Like if you call a Korean guy Chinese; I’ve done this, they’ll flip out.

“Hey! What makes you think I’m Chinese? I am Korean! Do I *look* Chinese?”

"Yes, motherfucker, you *do* look Chinese. That’s why I said it. It’s an accident, nigga. To the untrained eye, you *all* look Chinese to ME."

It’s a mistake. I’m not trying to offend you. *Some* people say all BLACK people look alike. We don’t get bent out of shape. We normally just call those people 'police,' okay?! Just learn to live with it. That’s all I can tell you.

Everybody’s afraid of the police now. I’m scared to death of these police. I am. I got a police scanner. First money I got, that’s the first shit I went out and bought; new police scanner. I just listen to these motherfuckers before I go out. Just to make sure everything’s cool. You hear shit on it.

“Calling all cars, calling all cars. Be on the lookout for a black male between 4’7’’ and 6’8”.

Staying in the crib tonight! Fuuuuck THAT. Got to work on that *alibi* for a minute.

Every black person needs an alibi. I do them impromptu joints. If I’m by myself and need an alibi, I just open up the windows in the apartment; turn the lights on; start beating off right in the window.

“Look at me, hey, everybody, look, it’s me, Dave Chappelle. Crazy. I’m jerking off – note the time, motherfuckers, it’s 2:35; look at me, I’m jerking off in the window, 2:35. Comedian Dave Chappelle, it’s June 10th, NOTE THE TIIIIIIME.”

That shit could save my life.

“Officer, Dave Chappelle *couldn’t* have done that. I saw him in his window masturbating, from 2:35 to 2:37, I’m certain of it. He was standing on a clock and holding a calendar AND today’s paper.”

Fuck, I need an alibi. I can’t be no celebrity. This shit is just the worst. I’m seeing it.

I can see why – I see why stars are crazy, man, these motherfuckers... I went to Disney World with my kids, which is a 'big deal' for me. I don’t get to see my kids so much. I do "Chappelle’s Show" 20 hours a day. Sleep for, like, half an hour. Raise my kids for 10, 20 minutes and then I go back to work. Now this *particular* day I got to hook up with the kids. We went to Disney World. Everybody at the park, fucking everybody! --

“Hey, HEEEEY! ...I’m RICK JAMES, bitch! Hey, I’m Rick James, biiiiitch.”

It was like, “Hey, man, hey, you mind not calling me a bitch in front of my kids? Time out, motherfucker, we take a day off." Even Mickey Mouse did it. I said, "This is the most UN-professional shit I have EVER seen in my LIFE."

“I'm Rick JAMES, bitch. HUH-HAH.”

Oh, I was FED up. I caught that motherfucker with an uppercut – PAAA. Knocked his head clean off. Everybody was screaming.

“Oh, my God, oh, my God! ...Mickey Mouse is MEXICAN.”

I had a terrible time in Disney World. Disney World’s like a whole 'nother country anyway. They got their own currency. That shit's ridiculous. Soon as I check in the hotels --

“Welcome to Disney World, Mr. Chappelle. Can we interest you in some Disney dollars?”
“No, man, I’m cool. Can’t buy weed and pussy with Disney dollars, nigga. I’m on vacation.”

I like them GREENBACKS. I like them greenbacks, you know what I’m saying? The kind of money people spend. People are very particular about that.

I saw that... there was one of the main stories from the war was... the first big thing we did was they said, “Now that Iraq has been liberated, we have managed to take Saddam Hussein’s face off of the money.” And I’m not going to lie, when that press conference came on, I was like choked up. I was actually *proud* to be an American because that is a very subtle psychological nuance of oppression to have a dictator on your money, and it’s *thoughtful* to be able to take that motherfucker off for the goodwill of *another* person, right?!

But then I thought, "Well, if you could do that for Iraq, what about our money, man? Our money looks like baseball cards with slave owners on them."

George Washington’s the worst of the worst.
...Yes, I SAID IT. We mythologize this motherfucker like he was 'the greatest dude', man.

If I went back in time with a white person and we saw George Washington walking in front of our time machine, my white friend would probably be like --

“Oh! My God, Dave, look, there’s George Washington. He’s the father of this great nation. I’m going to go shake his hand.”

-- I’d be on the other side like --

“RUN, NIGGA! GEORGE WASHINGTON!!”

-- AND WE'D BOTH BE RIGHT. You like him because he wrote the Declaration of Independence and all that shit.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident. All men are created equal... Go get me a sandwich, Nigger, or I’ll kill you! ...Liberty, justice for all.”

Am I wrong? Am I wrong? Wait a minute, did he not own slaves, didn’t he own slaves? That’s all I’m saying.

I almost protested the war in the beginning. Almost. 'Till I saw what happened to them Dixie Chicks. I said, “Fuuuuck THAT!” If they’ll do that to three *white* women, they will *tear* my black ass TO PIECES. I don’t want to hear that shit. Yeah, man, they would. But I’m, like, for real, why? Why do you care so much what the Dixie Chicks are saying? It’s not like they’re political scientists. They just bitches that can sing good. You know what I mean? Stop worshipping celebrities so much. Just don’t listen, don’t pay attention.

I remember right around September 11, JA R.U.L.E. was on MTV. That’s what they said. “We got JA R.U.L.E on the phone. Let’s see what JA’s thoughts are on this tragedy.” Who gives a fuck what JA R.U.L.E thinks at a time like this? This is ridiculous. I don’t want to dance, I’m scared to DEATH! I want some answers that JA R.U.L.E *might not* have right now. You think when bad shit happens to me, I’ll be in the crib like --

“Oh! My God, this is terrible! Could somebody please... Find JA R.U.L.E, get hold of this motherfucker, so I can make SENSE of all this? WHERE is JAAA? Help me, Ja Rule....”

-- I don’t even know why people listen to ME. I’ll say anything, nigga. I’ve done commercials for Coke AND Pepsi; I don’t give a fuck WHAT comes out of my mouth. I can say what it takes, whatever it takes, that’s what I’m sayin'.

If you want to know the truth, can’t even taste the difference. SURPRISE!

All I know is, Pepsi paid me most recently, so... it *tastes* better.

That’s pretty much how the game goes. I’m just being real, man. There’s too much goo-gaa over celebrities. People don’t know what’s fake and what’s real anymore. That’s why Bill Cosby got in trouble.

Look what happened to Bill Cosby.

Bill Cosby said some real shit, and the whole world freaked out on him. For what? For having an opinion? Just because he was selling pudding pops for the last 40 years; people forget that he’s a nigga from Philly -- and the projects -- and he might say some real shit from time to time. It’s not that big of a deal.

I spoke at my old high school and I told them kids’ straight up –

"If you guys are serious about making it out of this ghetto, you've got to focus, you've got to stop blaming white people for your problems, and you gotta learn... how to RAP or play BASKETBALL or SOMETHING, nigga! You’re trapped! YOU. ARE. TRAPPED. Either do THAT or SELL CRACK. That’s your only options. That’s the only way I’ve ever seen it work.

You got to entertain these white people, nigga. GET to DANCIN'!! Go on out there, and BE somebody."

– I just hope they listened.

This shit is ridiculous. People worship television. They worship this shit. You know, like, if you watch a movie, right, say you’re watching a movie and one character says to another character, let’s say –

“Hey, what’s your number, man?”

– What does the other character always say? –

“555-5555.”

– You know why they got to do that? Because stupid-ass people go to the movies and then go home and try to call the characters that they just saw. –

“Hello, is Indiana Jones there?”

– NO, motherfucker, he’s FAKE. It’s NOT his NUMBER.

To be honest, this is the worst time in history to be a black celebrity. Fuck. They’re locking up all our stars up. It’s hot right now for black celebrities. I knew it was bad when Kobe got in trouble. I said, "This is a wrap for us." He’s one of the most wholesome dudes we’ve had! And they lock him up and everything.

And Kobe kept it together. Thank God he held his game together, because if he was cracking under pressure and getting like, six points a game the whole of L.A. would be like, –

“THAT Nigger is GUILTYYYY.”

– Kobe was playing his ass off. He was playing like his freedom depended on that shit. You see this motherfucker in them games this nigga’s trying to beat that case on the COURT.

Like the judge threw him the ball, like, –

“Play for your freedom.”

– If I could talk to Kobe, I’d say be –

“Just relax, you’ll be fine, man.”

– Because the public is still giving Kobe the benefit of the doubt. He’s one of the few black celebrities that get that.

Not cause he’s a celebrity, more because... the girl showed up with eight different semens to the investigation. You can’t do that. That’s *seven too many.* That’s a lot of semen, man.

This bitch’s got Noah’s Ark in her panties.
What’s she trying, to recreate humanity or something?! She’s a collector!

She got every unsolved mystery; the answer might be in this girl’s panties. That’s the first place I’d look. OJ’s other glove is in there. Bigfoot’s footprint. Three CSI reruns is in that motherfucker.

She’s got the most diabolical drawers ever.

Fuck being a celebrity. This is not the time to be a black star. They’re locking all our STARS up! Black celebrities. It’s a witch hunt for us, man. Goddamn it.

It’s all OJ’s fault.

Ever since OJ got away, white people just been locking up our stars, one by one. It’s true. And it’s all – it’s not even OJ’s fault, it’s our fault. We celebrated *too openly* when OJ got acquitted. We should’ve been quiet about that shit. Soon as there’s, “Not guilty,” niggas start DANCIN'. –

"OH, in your face! In your face. It hurts, don’t it? It hurts. BURNS, doesn’t it? Oh, that justice system burns, doesn’t it? Welcome to MY WORLD, motherfucker..."

-- and all *that* shit. White people wanted OJ’s ass BAD. The city of L.A. spent over $12 million just *trying* that motherfucker; and the *look* on white people’s face when he was *acquitted?!*

Priceless.

Priceless – and that’s why I don’t trip over being a celebrity. I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.

Because one minute they all love you; the next thing you know... you’re in front of a *courthouse* dancing *on top of a car* just trying to figure out WHAT THE *FUCK* HAPPENED to you.

That’s what I’m waiting for... because the *timing* of this Michael Jackson shit is what makes me doubt it. *Every* time there’s wars going out of control, or the economy is bad or something is wrong with the world at large, it’s always *these moments* in history that Michael Jackson will, coincidentally, jerk off a kid. This is getting ridiculous. Are you PLANNING this shit? Do you have *meetings?* –

“Michael, thank you for coming. As you know Michael, the war has not been going as well as we expected. There’s been a lot of hiccups, and the public is asking us a lot of questions of course and well, Michael, there’s no nice way to say this and all I know how to do is be direct, so let me just be direct.

We’re going to need you to jerk off another child, Mike. I’m sorry. I am sorry. But it would really help out.”

– Or, maybe he did it. Who knows? Who knows?! That’s the thing, that’s what I wanted to say, who knows? Who the fuck knows?

Mike, God, and this little boy know. That’s about it. That’s about it.

The only reason that I can even talk about this shit is because... everybody is *speculating.* They all think he did it. And I DONT THINK he did it. I’m ALONE in this. I don’t think he did it.

...I’m not gonna say I don’t *think* he did it. That’s too... *strong.*

Let me just say I am "reserving judgment..." until *all the facts* come out.

So far from what I heard, I mean, the kid said he’s dying of cancer, he was in Make-A-Wish Foundation. He claims he had two weeks to live and it was his DYING WISH to meet Michael Jackson.

Come on, man, give me a fucking break.
This kid is 10 years old. He don’t remember Thriller! What the fuck he want to meet Michael Jackson for? Honestly.

I REMEMBER Thriller and I just, like, *kinda* wanna to meet this nigga. I wouldn’t break an appointment to meet him; I’ll put it that way. I’d have to already be FREE. That’s ridiculous. Because, like, If I’m dying in two weeks and go –

“Oh! Mama, get me in a room with Chubby Checker.”

– I wouldn’t want to meet that motherfucker, not in my last two weeks! Why not Usher or somebody like this?

So then the kid claims he goes to Michael’s house; this is where it all gets crazy... I don’t...like, you know. ...He does *everything* that you’d EXPECT at Michael’s house.

They climbed trees and rode roller coasters and Ferris wheels. The chef made cookies, pies, and cakes. They was *petting a monkey* and giraffes, singing songs. KID SHIT.

And in *the middle* of all this *childlike activity,* for SOME reason... Mike put out some *wine* and some *pills...* and SUCKED this kid’s DICK.

Folks, it hurts ME to SAY it.

...And the kid had the NERVE to call that "abuse." MOTHERFUCKER, that is a GOOD HOST, GODDAMN. What else do you want? What more do you WANT?!

I’m lucky to get a glass of *grape drink* at MY friend’s house; *let alone* a roller coaster ride and my DICK sucked. Mike must be *confused* like --

"I brought you in my house, I fed you, I sucked your dick, and *this* is how you REPAY ME, motherfucker? This was YOUR wish, not MINE. ...I thought you were DYING in *two weeks*. What happened to THAT, motherfucker? I’ve been in court for a YEAR-and-a-half. You get STRONGER every time I SEE you."

-- Wouldn’t it? This is fucked up, though... I shouldn’t even say this, this is fucked up, but....

Wouldn’t it be some ironic shit if they found out, through this case, that... the "cure for cancer" was Michael Jackson sucking your dick, somehow?

Like if Mike had powers like "Green Mile" and all the kids are like--

“PLEASE, Mike, suck our dicks!”

“Mm-mmm. Never again. You didn’t appreciate it, really.”

“Can we at least study your saliva?”

“Nuh-uh. Uh, huh.”

“Please, Mike.”

-- It doesn’t stop, though. It just doesn’t stop. And the only reason I can talk about Mike is because... he is a *freak.* He is a freak. That’s why people let you talk about him.

Because if I brought up Catholic priests fucking kids, it’d get quiet as shit. (room falls silent)

...But when *Michael Jackson* does it, it’s okay, because he’s a freak. His face is all... *cut up.* And just remember, when you look at that *thing* that he calls *his face,* that he did that for YOU somehow. Somehow he thought you might – maybe it’ll help. --

“Maybe people will like me more if I turn myself into a *white...* GHOULISH-like creature."

-- I don’t know what the fuck it is, but he did it for you. And I appreciate the gesture, Michael Jackson. If you’re watching this, I appreciate that gesture and I want you to know, fuck everybody. DAVE CHAPPELLE understands. Because you want to know something? I'M getting some work done. SURPRISE! Yes. Nothing major. You would never know if I didn’t tell you, but it’s some shit I’M insecure about that I want to work on.

If you must know... I’m getting Botox done on my balls to get these wrinkles out. Finally to have these just as smooth as eggs! And ohhhh, I CAN'T WAIT. I cannot wait.

And I’m not stopping there. That’s just phase one, baby. I’d be like Bob Vila, "These Old Balls." I’m fixing them up!

I’m plucking all the hair out. I got to make room, I know there is, I got to make room. I’m going to tattoo a gangster-ass face on with mean expressions, like this. Then I’ll grow the hair back on the bottom, so they got beards like me.

Then I’m hitting that beach and looking for ball-suckers. I’m going to wear some high shorts, just like this. And walk up to women with a confidence I’ve never had before. –

“Pardon me, miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you suck balls?”

“EXCUSE me?!”

“Miss, relax, you didn’t even let me finish. Do you suck... *theeeeese* balls?”

“...Ohhh-myyyy-God, those balls are as *smooth* as *eggs.* ...Yes, I’ll suck them.”

– I’ve played this scenario out in my mind A MILLION TIMES, LADY, that’s how it always ends –

“Yes, I’ll suck those balls.”

– All our stars, all our stars, man.

R. Kelly *pissed* on his victim.

I know it was rough, but I mean, again, I can’t even judge R. Kelly. First of all, we don’t know if these allegations are true or not. Even if they *are* true, if you want to know how I feel about it, honestly... if a man cannot *pee* on his fans... I DON'T WANNA BE in show business anymore. Because, well, that’s why I got in *the game,* baby. I got dreams, too.

You guys are *confusing* the issue.

While you guys are busy worrying about if R. Kelly even peed on this girl or not, you’re not asking yourself the *real* question that America needs to decide ONCE and FOR ALL. And that question is, –

“How old is 15, 'really'?”

– No, that’s a good question! That’s a GOOD question. I’m not saying that a person is as smart as they’re going to be at 15. That’s not what I’m saying, man.

But I AM saying... 'fifteen' to me is old enough to decide whether or not you want to be pissed on.

I mean, that’s me.

If you can’t make a decision like that by the time you’re 15, then just give up, motherfucker, because *life* is WAAAAAAAY harder than THAT. I make tougher decisions all the time. If you don’t want to get pissed on, just get THE FUCK out of the way; It’s not even a decision!

If I start peeing on the front row they won’t have to calculate and think –

“How do I feel about this? Am I okay with it?”

– They just MOVE. You can DO that at 15. I could have.

I’ve been 15. When I was 15, I was doing stand-up in nightclubs. I smoked reefer from time to time. My friends were selling crack. I was trying to finger-fuck people. I *knew* what was happening around me to some degree. Getting pissed on was the LEAST of my worries at 15; TRUST me. But it keeps coming up.

There’s a lot of confusion around that age. Any time 15 comes up, people freak out, like when that girl Elizabeth Smart got kidnapped, right?

Remember in Utah last year, a 15-year-old girl, Elizabeth Smart was kidnapped, and then they finally found her and the whole country was... "relieved."

And I was the only one saying, –

“Damn, she wasn’t that *smart* after all.”

– Not because she got kidnapped! That could happen to anybody. I’m not knocking her for that. I’m *just saying*, if you kidnapped me when I was 15... you gotta take me *further* than EIGHT MILES AWAY from my HOUSE, man. Goddamn. You can’t hold me prisoner AROUND SHIT I RECOGNIZE!. I’ll break away! I’ll break away. –

"Fuck OFF, nigga! That’s my *bus stop.* I KNOW where I’m at. I’m going HOME!"

– She was missing for six months, 8 miles away from her house. That’s *two exits*, man. That’s nothing!

...And while she was missing, during this half a year that this girl was missing, there’s a 7-year-old *black girl* gets kidnapped in Philadelphia. Nobody knows her name. They might’ve talked about it two or three times on the news, but *she* should’ve been the top story. Because SHE chewed through the ropes and had *both* of these motherfuckers in jail in 45 minutes flat. SEVEN YEAR OLD. I’m not making this up!

These two crackheads kidnapped her, took her to the crackhouse and tied her up. And then they left her! They’re crackheads, they got to make moves; crack to smoke, chocolate to eat. Those motherfuckers made moves, they was out. As soon as they left, this little girl got to nibbling. She’s kidnapped at 4:00 and at home watching herself on the news at 5:30. That shit is crazy. That’s a news story. THAT is a news story.

Now, "Meanwhile in Utah...." Fifteen-year-old Elizabeth Smart’s captors left her alone, too. And they didn’t even tie her up cause they’re hillbillies. They just bounced. –

“Don’t try to escape, bitch, or we’ll kill you. Be right back.”

– And they leave. And she’s fifteen, sitting in the house *by herself*. –

“How am I going to get *out* of this? Come on, Elizabeth, *think.* THINK, Elizabeth, how am I going to get out of here...?”

– Why don’t you just *open* the fucking door and *go outside*? Have you *thought* about THAT? Do you have a quarter? Do you know your phone number?! You’re 15, bitch, RUN! Stop thinking and *start making moves.*

I know I sound mean. And I know what the people are thinking when I’m saying this, –

“Dave, she’s only 15.”

– Alright, but that’s the DISCREPANCY, because when you talk about a "little girl" like Elizabeth Smart then the country feels like 15 is "so young and so innocent."

On the FLIP SIDE, *here comes* 'fifteen' AGAIN. *Now* we’re talking about a 15-year-old *black* kid in Florida. This black kid accidentally killed his neighbor when he was practicing wrestling moves that he saw on TV.

Now, was HE a 'kid?' NO! They gave him LIFE. They always try *our* 15-year-olds as ADULTS. –

“This Nigger KNEW what he was doing. He’s a *goddamn* PILE DRIVER. ...This kid gets on the ropes, there’s NO stopping him. We’d have to send The Rock to arrest him.”

And they gave a 15-year-old boy LIFE in JAIL.

...If you *think* that it’s *okay* to give him life in jail, it *should be legal* to PEE on him.

That’s ALL I’m saying. You've got to make up your mind *across the board* how old 15 ACTUALLY is. That’s all I’m saying.

Because I’m going to tell you right now, if somebody comes in here and puts a gun to my head and says, –

“Chappelle, you've got a choice to make! You’re either going to jail for a month OR we’ll let you go... but you gotta let R. Kelly pee on you.”

– I’m not hesitating. –

“Bring in R. Kelly, and tell him to *stay away* from my EYES.”

– I’d rather get pissed on, on the OUTSIDE than fucked in the butt on the INSIDE. I can’t go to jail with some smooth Botox balls and think everything’s going to be *alright.* It’s not that kind of place. Take my chances with that piss.

Piss will wash off with a 10-minute shower. I’m certain of it. –

"This piss is coming *right out!* ...What could I DO? They were going to put me in jail."

– Society is changing rapidly.

You can’t smoke indoors. What *the fuck* is that all about? I got kicked out of a titty bar for smoking. No, that shit was ridiculous. The *stripper* did it! The stripper came up like, –

“Your smoking is a health risk for me. I don’t want to work in this kind of environment.”

"BITCH, you had your gonorrhea-infested pussy in my FACE. *YOU* STARTED it!"

– And they threw me out! It’s the dirtiest place I’ve ever been thrown out of. ...And just to give you an idea of what I mean by "dirty," lap dances at this place? THREE dollars.

It’s fucking disgusting.

And at the same time... *who* could pass up a SALE, son? It was $3 DOLLARS!! Of COURSE, I did it. It’s only 12 quarters. Said, –

“I’ll break a five for that.”

– I’ve never seen somebody work this hard for $3 dollars. This lady must’ve been a throwback to the Great Depression. She was ALL over me. It’s the first time I ever told a stripper to get off me. –

“Alriiiight. Yeah, *thank you* very much, miss. Thank youuuu! That’ll be all. .....That’s enough, thanks! Hey! HEEEEY, GET OFF OF ME! ...Whatever happened to *lipstick* on the COLLAR, lady?! ...I have a SHIT streak on the MIDDLE of my SHIRT!"

– How the *fuck* am I going to explain this when I get home? –

“Huh? Oh, no, baby, me and Bob were playing basketball and Bob dunked on me. He was hanging on the rim, and his pants fell down? I was checking up close, I think he was swinging and his butt cheeks might’ve... his butt cheeks, I think, caught my shirt. ...I don’t know *why* I was playing ball in my dress shirt? I don’t know. It was midnight. I don’t know... what the *fuck*?! ...Just let me think."

That’s when you know a guy was lying when he says shit like that. –

“Hold on, just let me think.”

– Your man ever said that to you? –

“Hold on, just let me THINK for a minute. Can I... CAN I THINK?!”

– Y'all women... you guys just make much progress TOO fast. Not too much, but you’re just confused. You made so much progress you're even confused. Men and women, we both like, –

"What the fuck just happened?"

– Because women got ALL this money now, but they’re *still* like women. –

“Oh, you never take me anywhere anymore.”

And you’d be thinking,–

“Bitch, YOU got more money than ME, you never take ME ANYWHERE anymore.”

And at the same time, you don’t treat a man like a man. You don’t cook, you don’t clean, and you don’t do anything a motherfucker says. You tell the motherfucker what to do. I see women do this to men all the time. –

“COME ON!”

– No man wants that shit. I don’t want anybody to tell me what to do that much. You got to work with me.

Like if it makes a man "feel like a man" to watch the game, and just let him sit down and watch the game for a minute. And if he happens to look over at you while watching the game don’t look at him all mean and make him feel guilty about watching it.

Just *pick up* your own titty and SUCK it. Just try it out! He will INSTANTLY remember why he fell in love. –

“Ohhh, that’s RIGHT! I forgot my girl sucks her own titties from time to time. I can’t walk away from that. It’s too hard to find.”

– You see? That took 20 seconds. You still can be just as busy as you want; just suck your own titty and everything’s cool. Or how about this? If you’re making love to your man, you already make love might as well spice it up, right?

How about this: I *personally* like it... I like it when a girl tells me *where* to cum. Don’t like it when she tells me *when* to cum. I HATE that shit. –

“Don’t cum yet.”
"Oh, bitch, all these RULES!"

– Instead of doing that, why don’t you just tell us *where*? It would make us feel better. Especially, if you’re aggressive about it. I like it when a girl gets wild with me. –

“Cum in my face!”

– Stick your chin out like a boxer. –

“BRING IT ON, motherfucker. You’re a BUM!”

But it doesn’t have to be that wild or explicit.
All a man wants to know is if you’re interested and if you will participate. You can say anything, he’ll be happy. –

“Oh, oh, cum on top of the television.”
"Alright, fuck it!"

– The weirder the place, the better. –

“Cum in my fishbowl.”
"Damn, fishbowl. ...Oh, shit! They’re EATIN' IT! OHH!.”

– Fish love it when I come over. –

“It’s that guy! We’re having chicken tonight.”

You guys, man, thanks. This has been the best year of my career by far.

I appreciate you guys watching me because I do it for my kids, really. And my kids are off the hook. You think I’m a bad motherfucker, wait till you see the 2000 model Chappelle. This nigga is *off* the HOOK. My sons are bad.

My oldest son is three. This nigga made me a necklace out of macaroni. I said, –

“This shit is baller!”

He painted the macaroni green and put it on a string. He tied it on my neck and he told me he was proud of me, and I got choked up. And he thought I was sad. That’s how smart he was. He says, –

“Are you sad, Daddy?”

– And I said,–

“No, I’m not sad. You’re too young to understand this, son, but this is *fucking crazy.* ...You used to live *in my balls*, man. Now you’re making jewelry out of macaroni? You’re a BAD motherfucker.”

LONG LIVE CHAPPELLES.

Oh, shit. Thanks, guys. Thank you. That’s what it’s all about.

Everybody usually wants to be famous so they can rock nice jewelry and all that shit. I already got a macaroni necklace. I got valuable shit. I got – I got valuable shit. I’m not in it for that.

The only kind of shit I want to do with fame that’s decadent is I want to go to Vegas to the $5,000 blackjack table...and I don’t even want to play. I just want to be such a big star that I can go up to one of the players in a tight hand... and put my dick on his shoulder.

And I’m *such* a celebrity, they think it’s funny. -

“Hey, what the fuck?! Oh, shit, DAVE CHAPPELLE! Wow.”

- He gets on his cell phone -

“You are not going to *believe* whose DICK is on my SHOULDER right now! ....And this guy’s balls are as SMOOTH as EGGS!!! He’s had some *work* done.”

- Couldn’t thank you enough. God bless you all, man.

Keep watching, man. I’m going to try to make it interesting. Stay safe. (I’m Rich Bitch!)