It was just hard.
My girlfriend's mom is single.
She's dating, at 60, and that's hard, right?
And that's not, like, funny.
You laughed 'cause you're an asshole, but like--
You're not a good dude. I can see that now.
I liked you at first, but now you're just a monster.
She is, she's dating,
and so we care, we love her, right?
So to help her, we made her an OKCupid account.
Right. It didn't help at all.
But I'll say this, it has been the thrill of my life.
I got her passwords. I read every note...
- ( audience groans ) - ...that she writes,
and every one that comes back.
I love how older people talk to each other, man.
I do. Like, online? It's so charming
because they're so raw and honest
in a way that we as young people don't know how to be,
because we're presenting. They don't give a fuck, right?
So the websites will say, like, "Hey,
list ten fun facts about yourself,
and we'll help you find that sp--"
and they just list the first ten facts
that pop into their head.
So it will be like, "Construction worker!
Lonely! Hemorrhoids!" Like, that's it.
"Love me!"
Every older person's profile reads
like this unwavering stream of consciousness,
do you know what I mean?
Just like an old man yelling into the wind, like,
"Hello!
Hello!
I am FedoraDaddy1978!
I'm a divorced father of three!
But don't worry, my kids don't call me anymore.
I was recently fired from my job
for only knowing how to type with one finger!
I'll let you guess which finger!
I'm looking for that special someone who can love me
and help me figure out if my milk is expired.
How can you tell? I tried sniffing it,
but that's how they get you.
Call me on my email.
I'll be here any time, day or night.
I don't sleep much, as I'm very worried
my son might be a homosexual.
How can you tell? I tried sniffing the boy,
but that's how they get you.
PS-- No fatties."
This is a fun job we get to do, man.
It really is. I used to be--
I used to be a high school teacher.
( cheers, applause )
Yeah. Don't clap.
I quit in the middle of the year.
I didn't give a shit about those kids.
I quit on a Wednesday. I didn't give a fuck.
I quit at fourth period. I was done.
Kids were like, "Mr. Karman, what's our homework for tomorrow?"
I was like, "I don't know, man.
That sounds like a Tomorrow Lady question.
I ain't gonna be here. I'm not invested."
Teaching's tough, man. Are there teachers here?
Some of y'all work in education?
- ( cheers, applause ) - It's beautiful.
It's just a hard job.
I've never been called "Mister" and "bitch" more in my life.
It's like, "Mister, why you a bitch?
No, I'm saying, like, why is that your personality?
You got some bitch-ass handwriting, Mister.
You must write with a feather.
You write with a quill, Mister?"
One time I had a kid call me "Mr. Bitch."
And that hurt more, somehow.
Here's why "Mr. Bitch" hurts more,
and I thought a lot-- I think about it almost every day.
"Mr. Bitch" hurts more because "Mr. Bitch"
makes it seem like I earned the title.
You know what I mean? Like I worked my way up.
Like while the rest of you were lollygagging
and playing around, I was focused
on being the best bitch I could be.
It's just a hard job, man.
I had to pretend like drugs aren't cool.
Just talking like, "Kids, don't do drugs!
Why would you do drugs?
Nothing good-- listen.
You'll just end up having sex
with the prettiest girl in school.
What, do you want to get your dick sucked at Prom?
Disgusting!
Hey, you know what's better than dick sucking?
You know what's better than that?
Subject-verb agreement.
Huh? Grammar rules!
You gotta finger-bang your brain.
Let's get wet up here where it counts."