Get A Dog

Will you guys lighten the fuck up? Of course I love my wife. She laughs at this shit. As a matter of fact, she eats and spends this shit. No, I told him, I said, “You know what you should do, man? First of all, you shouldn’t do it.” I’m talking about being legally married. It’s not that you’re gay as much as just legal marriage is a fucking diabolical leverage game in the United States. I’m just being honest. Devoid of religious significance or the idea of love, marriage is nothing but an awful contract that you shouldn’t sign. I’m just being real. Because you start out loving each other. Then two years later, you’re just building a case against one another… for a hypothetical court date that may or may not ever happen. You throw being gay on top of that, that shit is explosive. It’s that Ray Rice shit. Right after Ray Rice went through all that shit, I was at a party and I met this kid Michael Sam. You know Michael Sam? Very nice guy. He’s the first openly gay NFL player. And Michael’s a very nice guy, a very brave guy, but when I met him, I couldn’t help but think, “What’s gonna happen when Michael Sam beats his wife up in the elevator? Is that domestic violence, or is that just two niggas working shit out in an elevator?” You know what I mean? Anyway… I give all married men the same advice, gay or straight. Get a dog. Because a dog will love you all the time, but she’s not going to. It was real talk. I didn’t even know about dogs, and my kids got the dog. They brought him home from the shelter. I didn’t even want him. They were like, “Can we keep him?” I said, “Nope.” I said, “Where did you get this dog?” They’re like, “From the shelter.” I was like, “Ugh. Probably something wrong with him. Can’t keep him.” And then my kids started crying and screaming like the dog had gambling debts. “Please, Dad! If you don’t let us keep him, they’re gonna kill him!” I was like, “Oh— All right, you can keep him.” And this dog was a menace. I hated his guts. One night, I’d smoked a bunch of weed, and I was eating a sandwich, and Baba came over— Baba is the dog. He came over and was staring at me. This will make you very uncomfortable, if he’s just looking at you eating. I had to give him a piece of my sandwich so he’d go away, and that’s how we became friends. Now, if you see me walking down the street with Baba, I ain’t got no leash or nothing. He walks right next to me. If I stop, he’ll stop. And if I go, he’ll go. And all my friends are like, “Yo, Dave, that shit is dope. How’d you train Baba to do that shit?” “I’ve never trained Baba. I’m just a messy eater.” If I drop food and Baba’s not around, all I gotta do is call him. “Baba!” He’s a black dude’s dog, so he doesn’t come right away. He peeks first to see what’s going on. I gotta tap my foot so he can see the food. “Over here, little buddy.” He’s like, “Thanks, Dave,” and he’ll come get it and run off. But he knows all my habits. If he smells weed in the house, he’ll be like… [sniffing] “Oh, this motherfucker’s about to eat.” And he’ll just come running. Baba got me through a very difficult time in my marriage.