Casey Rocket on Kill Tony

And we're 12 years old. I can remember doing duster and my buddy would be like, "What's the biggest dog you've ever seen?"

And I, "My neighbor's dog's fucking massive."

But you shouldn't do duster. I've lost a lot of good friends like that.

Chris Benoit, Aaron Carter.

Chris Benoit couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

Especially around the holidays, but...

I'm like Bob Dylan when he went electric.

It's like I'm pregnant and addicted to air duster.

Where was Stuart Little on 9/11? We know he had an airplane. We know he had motive.

If he can't have a family, no one can.

and a bunch of those dudes from Barstool Sports beat the shit out of me again. Kept saying, "What's the score of the Jets game, pussy?"

- I don't know, sir.

I don't know, now do I?

I sneak out of the hospital in the dead of night and the staff starts freaking out

'cause the oil man's loose.

Oh, what's this? Yes?

More oil?

Absolutely.

That's why people call me the Dwight Howard of the LA comedy scene. So because I am secretly gay. All right

In honor of the big night, this is my impression of ratatouille making me kill my entire family. Yeah. Oh

We were staring each other in the eyes. and we were praying as fast as we could. And I don't know if you've ever prayed on ketamine,

but those had to have been some fucking confusing prayers.

Just, dear Lord, please make me big and small

at the same time, sweet Lord.

Just, I always picture God in heaven watching all the prayers go by. And he's like, what was that fucking last one?

It's like, should we OD these guys?

She's like, good luck.

All right, God, miss when men were men in this country. Talking about when men were men. Talking about dressing up like a deer

and scaring your Latino neighbors.

You know what I'm saying?

Come all say, "The Wendago."

Then avenging Shawn Michaels' loss at WrestleMania 23.

My best friend, his name was Mark McKinney, and he used to take a bunch of Adderall and play "Red Dead Redemption,"

and he would just skin horses for, like, nine hours.

And I would just watch him.

Save the pelts, big boy.

to inception, people, and no matter how hard I try, I keep going into people's dreams and hooking up with that booger guy

the music next commercials and we both finish.

I'm the editor of the New Yorker for Christ's sakes. And every time I feel this little slimy hand slipping over. I love you, baby.

And I just fall to pieces.

You know, she's crying, that old chestnut. "When are you gonna get help?" You know?

I'll tell you who needs help, the coal miners.

But that's fucking -- Biden's America, you know what I mean?

And, uh, I wish you could just be walking through the mall with your friends and just pop your hip,

just get a ketamine flashback from "Bonnaroo" 2012.