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We've been doing a lot of laughing |
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Which is good, uh, for a comedy show on a comedy CD, but what we haven't been doing is a lot of thinking |
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And I'd like to do that now, I've written some haikus |
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Haikus are Japanese poems consisting of 17 syllables, three lines |
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Five, seven, five |
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And I find them to have a certain |
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Philosophical construct, there's a certain, uh |
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Soundness in their simplicity, a clearness in their cogency, if you will |
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So hopefully what we'll do right now is read these haikus, think for a bit |
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And then when we go back, uh, to the |
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You know, the jokes and the laughing |
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They'll have benefited, uh, from the time we took to think |
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So um, you guys just sit back and indulge me and just think for a bit and then we'll go back to the jokes |
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Uh, can I get some blue light to set the mood? |
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Perfect |
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For those of you listening on CD, the lights didn't change which made it funny |
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I saw a rainbow |
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On the day my grandma died |
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****in' lesbian |
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(Ding) |
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For fifteen cents a |
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Day you can feed an African |
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They eat pennies |
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(Ding) |
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Old peoples' skin sags |
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Because it's being pulled toward |
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The underworld |
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(Ding) |
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Do unto others |
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As you would have them do to you |
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Said the rapist |
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(Ding) |
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My aunt used to say |
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Slow and steady wins the race |
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She died in a fire |
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(Ding) |
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Even if he is |
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Your friend, never, ever call |
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An Asian person |
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(Ding) |
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And finally |
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Bono, if you want |
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To help poor people, sell your |
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Tinted shades, you cunt |
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(Ding) |
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Thank you, this next piece is called "Sonnet 155", or "If Shakespeare Had Written a Porn", and it goes like this |
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I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs |
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As I removed my source of Grecian power |
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As if King Midas dared to touch the skies |
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Upon thy body fell a golden shower |
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Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung |
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Upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed |
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The sun had set, thy set with wary hung |
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I thought, "How black a night and blue a lode" |
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I said, "What light through yonder beaver breaks? |
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It is the yeast" |
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And now my belly's yellow |
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My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes |
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But 'tis not massive, I am no Othello |
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And when that final moment came to pass |
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Like Christ I came-a riding on an ass |
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Thank you very much |
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William Shakespeare, uh |
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William Shakespeare was a verbal cun-tortionist |
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He could bend his words in the way a contortionist bends his frame without hope that he could with a name like William Shakespeare |
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William Shakespeare, some, some of you seem lost, look |
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Say your name was Robert Frost and you couldn't write, that would suck |
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Well, I guess you could always go as Bobby Frost and own an ice cream truck |
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He was balanced like a simile and could stack metaphor five, six at a time and rhyme into the very last line of a soliloquy which finally said outright with a previous 77 rolling hinting at |
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He had puns and quips and tons of trips of sons with ships with nuns with hips and buns and lips, but I had something that Shakespeare never had |
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Penicillin |
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See, it hadn't been invented yet, back then they only had "quill"-icillin |
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Hey, it's not that hard, bard |
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I'm sorry, I got a bone to pick with you, William |
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So if you could just listen up here and listen to this theater queer's theater query here and maybe act like a real artist for once in your life |
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Say Van Gogh, and |
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Lend me your ear |
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You're not a writer |
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You're a writer like ****ing Hulk Hogan's a street fighter |
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You write these dramas |
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You accumulate your wealth |
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You hold nature as to a mirror of yourself |
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Just because you're messed up doesn't mean we are too |
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Just because you want to bang your mom doesn't mean Danish princes do, what |
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Who? Yeah, Hamlet, Shakespeare, that's right, the young prince whose father died at the hands of his uncle with whom his mother lied, sound familiar? |
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It's the ****ing Lion King |
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You stole from a Disney movie, you androgynous douche, what's next |
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The story of a French king on a quest to find his lost son, Nemo? |
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Oh, and by the way, poetic talent is really easy to fake when thy sentences doth no ****ing sense make |
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"To be, or not to be |
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That is the question, whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune |
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Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them? To die |
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To sleep, no more, and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to |
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'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep |
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To sleep, perchance to dream, ay |
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There's the rub, for in that sleep of death what |
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Dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause" |
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Pft, like what? |
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This next song is about quantum mechanics |
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(Hits random keys on the piano) |
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This next song.... |
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I was raised very well, like a field of corn |
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You know, I was also raised very Christian, like the Children of the Corn |
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And Christians get angry at me 'cause I say things like, "Why the long nose, Pope-nocchio?" |
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They'll think I'll go to Hell |
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The truth is, I've been to Christian Hell |
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And I actually wrote a song about it |
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Hitler was there |
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And so were all the Jews, yeah |
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So it got a little awkward |