-
right in the middle of the entire audience,
and stands up and has this "Braveheart" moment.
And he goes, "He doesn't speak Spanish!"
[growling]
[dark electronic music]
♪
[cheers and applause]
- All right, this next guy is a good friend of mine.
I've known him for about 10, 12 years.
He's absolutely hilarious.
He's on "The Daily Show" as the Latino correspondent.
Please give it up for Mr. Al Madrigal, everybody!
Let him hear it!
[cheers and applause]
- So, in 2002, I went
to the Montreal Just for Laughs Comedy Festival,
which is like the NBA Draft for young comedians.
There's a new face.
And I was so excited to see the one other Latino comedian
that was there-- his name is Willie Barcena.
He's a great comic. Yeah, I was so excited.
I go, "Hey, Willie! How you doing?
Al Madrigal. How are you?"
And he just walked up, and he goes,
"You don't even say your own name right, bro?"
And just--
[laughter]
And just walked away.
And...
as he left, I go, "Oh, yeah, okay, Willie, see you later."
And I had no idea I was even--
I hadn't gone to L.A. at that point.
I was up in San Francisco.
I had no idea that I was a Mexican comedian.
I had no clue.
That's how bad-- My Spanish is horrible.
And I go down to L.A. for the very first time,
and I didn't know that L.A.--
You do this now with all these shows,
and none of these are made up,
but they take all the black comics,
and they have Chocolate Sundaes at the Laugh Factory
and Mo Better Mondays
and Chopshtick Wednesdays, if you're an Asian comic, and--
and they go--
All my Persian friends are on the Axis of Evil show
and so on and so on.
So I go down there with my friend Becky.
This is my first set in L.A.
And that's your first sign right there.
No self-respecting Mexican comedian
has a friend named Becky, right?
You're never gonna hear,
"Me and my friend Becky got some pressed juices."
Uh, yeah...
That's not...
So, anyway, we go down, and she has a set
at the historic Melrose Improv,
with the Budd Friedman and the monocle.
And it's for the HBO Aspen Comedy Arts Festival,
another big deal for young comedians.
And so I watch her check in,
and she gets an HBO Comedy hat,
HBO Comedy T-shirt, and she checks in for her show.
She's on the Thursday night 8:30 show
with the rest of my friends.
And then I go to check in,
and they give me a tin of Red Hots,
like a Hot Tamales candies,
in a mini Altoids case that says "HBO Latino."
[laughter]
And I get that,
and then I go and check in for my show,
and I'm on the Friday night late show
called "Refried Fridays."
And it's with Carlos Mencia, Gabriel Iglesias,
hosted by Pablo Francisco, Jeff Garcia,
Freddy Soto, God rest his soul.
And so I look at the Red Hots.
I look at the list one more time,
and I look at Becky, and I call her.
[whispering] I go, "Becky.
"I'm a Mexican comedian. What do I do?"
[normal voice] And right at that moment,
this guy taps me on the shoulder and goes,
"Hola.
Do you mind if I interview you in Spanish?"
And I go, "You can fucking try, bro.
"It's not--it's not gonna work out for you.
And, by the way,
"How do you say that?
"Because everyone else got T-shirts,
and I got these Red Hots."
[laughter]
And then the gigs started coming in.
You know, I have a young family in Los Angeles,
and I get these, uh--
At first, when you start doing comedy in San Francisco,
you do open mics, right?
There's no microphone there.
It's like three homeless people passed out
at this place called The Luggage Store that I did.
Then you find out there was a microphone in Oakland.
So we went over to Jack London Square
and performed in front of all, like, these black gang members.
So I was like just doing my stuff and somebody goes,
"That's not funny, motherfucker."
And I go, "It's new stuff. I'm working on it, RJ."
And he's just talking.
"Just trying premises out, so..."
But then this really big gig-- once I moved down to L.A.
And it's funny that it brought me back to the Bay Area,
but I get this gig in East San Jose, California.
You don't have to be familiar with the San Francisco Bay Area
to know than anything east, most cities,
usually pretty shitty.
So...
driving there with my wife,
commercial comes on the oldies station,
Tony Sandoval, KISS FM,
for the show I'm actually going to do.
So, "We got a big Latino comedy jam,
and Al Madrigal is going to be there!"
I'm in my car going, "Whoa. Oh, so that's how you say it.
Okay, got it."
Then I go to the gig,
and it's 2,000 Mexicans in a GI hall...
just packed.
It's like a big cafeteria.
And my wife looks at me, and she goes,
"Dude, you got to get the fuck out of here!"
'Cause she's supportive like that.
And I say, "No, honey. Have a little faith in me.
I can handle myself."
is that the guy before me is doing his entire act in Spanish
and destroying.
Every single time he hits a big punch line,
little Mexican guys with gold-plated teeth--
they all have corn on a stick,
so they're fucking putting their corns in the air.
Crema is flying everywhere.
It's like "Cloudy with a Chance of Carnitas."
[laughter]
And I didn't know that the Mexican corn
was like the concert lighter for a Latino Def Jam Show.
[shouting]
So now I got to go up there.
And I ask myself-- I go, "Okay, I can do this.
What would Carlos Mencia do in this situation?"
That's one of the rare times
you want to ask yourself that question.
And I go, "I know. I'm gonna go up there."
And I do a little cheerleading.
So I go up onstage, and I go, "What's up, East San Jose?
Make some noise!"
And they all make some noise.
All right, so I'm doing good.
So I say, "Where are all the white people at?
White people make some noise. White people!"
Nothing.
Half of me is the only white guy there.
So I say, "Where are all the black people at?
Black people make some noise! Black people!"
Nothing.
Where the hell were you guys? Could've fucking used you!
And then I say, "So it's all Latinos!"
[imitates cheering]
2,000 corns just up in the air
at the exact same time.
And I'll never forget, right where you are in the front,
this little guy goes, "East side Latinos."
And I said, "East side Latinos!" Even bigger roar.
Like, I think a bacon-wrapped hot dog went flying.
Then I proceeded to do my act
just by saying "fuckers" and "bros" nonstop.
Just "fuckers" and "bro," "fuckers" and "bros,"
and then humping for no reason whatsoever.
It didn't make any fucking sense.
If you're sitting near a Latino,
look how much they love this right now.
They can't get enough.
Does not make sense, but they can't get enough of it.
What's up, fuckers?
I just had a new baby, fuckers.
Fuckers, bro, bro, fuckers, fuckers.
25,000 "fuckers" later, 25 minutes,
I'm out of there.
Then I go to the next gig. It's a two-parter.
Next day it's in Stockton, California,
which is this meth shithole in the middle of nowhere.
Industry has died.
It was like Ground Zero for the housing crisis, right?
Foreclosure signs everywhere.
People are angry all the time.
I think there's just pods with embryonic MMA fighters.
And when you start to do stand-up, the younger comics--
The older comics pull us to the side,
and they tell us three shows that you should not do.
I was just told this by great comics
that sort of were very helpful.
They said, "Don't perform outside.
"Don't perform in front of kids.
And don't perform during the day."
This is all three.
Even the kids are fucking tough in Stockton.
I'm not sure if anyone's ever been intimidated
by a five-year-old, but--
little wife-beaters walking by,
going, "Fuck you,
And you're like, "Ah.
Okay, children, run along."
So I walk into the show, and I walk backstage.
The guy who was doing so well the night before--
Remember him? He's now crying.
He's got a tear running down his cheek.
And I go, "Ruben, what's wrong? How was your set?"
He goes, "Al, they threatened my life."
What happened was, he went up in Stockton,
and he went onstage and said he was from L.A.
And apparently Ruben hadn't been watching
his National Geographic gang documentaries,
because that was a no-no.
Big battle going on between the north and the south.
Ruben was unaware.
He went up, said he was from Los Angeles,
and guys started sharpening their corn sticks.
They were ready to fucking stab his ass.
He pointed the dudes out.
Now I got to go up there,
and I already determined on the long car ride out,
"I'm not gonna be this Latino Def Jam character
that I'm not."
I spent the first half of my life--
My parents sent me to French school
in San Francisco.
I went to Ecole Notre Dame Des Victoires.
All right?
I used to wear a sailor suit to school every single day.
I rode the cable car with a dickey blowing in the wind.
Now I'm gonna be this Latino Def Jam character?
That's bullshit. I want to be myself.
And that was a horrible idea.
Never be yourself.
Change it up. Fuck it. What do you got to lose?
So I go up onstage,
and I start to do this bit about how my Spanish is horrible
and how you spot half Mexican-- overuse of the word
¿Habla español? Un poquito.
¿Salsa picante? Un poquito.
¿Maricón? Un poquito.
And this guy stands up right in the middle,
right in the middle of the entire audience,
and stands up and has this "Braveheart" moment.
And he goes, "He doesn't speak Spanish!"
[growling]
And then starts violently flipping me off.
Not just like, "Hey, fuck you."
But the holding it, shaking, going...
[groaning]
So he starts leading people in boos against me.
He's going, "He doesn't speak Spanish.
"Boo! Boo!
"He doesn't speak Spanish.
Boo! Boo!"
20 people are booing, 80 people are booing,
and finally I broke down, which I tend to do.
I said, "Look, you guys,
"this isn't exactly a dream gig for me either.
"I'm stuck in Stockton of all God forsaken places,
"and the best part about it is I get to leave,
"and you people are stuck here
"for the rest of your miserable fucking lives.
"Now, I'm taking the money, and I'm being paid handsomely.
"I'm gonna go blow it in Tracy Outlet Mall.
So fuck off!"
And the guy stood back up and goes,
"He's got money!"
Then I ended up jumping a fence like a salmon,
while the black security guards laughed at me.
That's how that fucking turned out.
All right, thank you very much, everybody.