How do you pass up the opportunity to spit blood in Joan Baez's face? Dude, I'm so funny I inverted an epiglottis.

Let's round him a faceless and get some pajamas.

Dude, I didn't know my head was a bank.

That's fucking awesome.

I want to eat so many ducy rolls I just shit attire.

I jerked off in this towel so much it might be a surfboard.

Mr. Schmidt is an entertainer.

Not a cool.

Hey, what's happened to my Schmidt, 40-year-old boy podcast?

Folks, it's, uh, look, we can't deny it.

There's an elephant in this room, and, uh, and probably, I shouldn't podcast with an elephant

in the room.

I got a lie to it because the smell is awful.

Holy God, you would not believe the stench. Even though they're cute. You ever see an elephant on Twitter rampaging everybody's

like, oh, I love him. Please realize that he smells like God shit out a giant thing with a trunk on it.

I mean, that's all an elephant stinks. Like, because dog in the sense that if you let it loose in Calcutta, it will stomp people to death in the streets.

I'm sure a dog wishes he could.

Oh, my God, don't tell me that every dog in the world doesn't have delusions of grandeur of stomping people to death in the streets of Calcutta.

You know, every dog has done that at one point. Probably play with the ball a little bit. Maybe I'll catch the frisbee if human wants to. And then I'll eat and eat and eat and oh, but I'll tell you what, if somebody leaves that gate open.

If just one second that gate is open, I'm sprinting into the night and stomping people in the streets of Calcutta to death.

Oh, I cannot wait.

Look at your dog right now.

...