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July 27, 2018 - Get Off My Lawn - Gavin McInnes
49:51
Get Off My Lawn Podcast #70 | There's a weird bald dude in front of my house.

In today's episode of "Living in the suburbs" we meet a weird dude who's been meditating and praying in front of my house. After confronting him and assuming he was a complete mental patient, I saw him being normal at a bar where a black guy stormed in and threatened to kill us all, first with a baseball bat, then with a gun.

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There was a weird bald dude in front of my house all week.
Now my house is near a park.
It's got baseball diamonds in it and a public pool out here in the burbs.
But there's a little corner of it that ends with my house.
And this weird bald dude, there's a big bush right in front of my house.
And there's this bald dude sitting there.
He's doing this thing that drives me nuts, by the way.
When bald guys wear flip-flops and big shorts and a big t-shirt, they look so naked and nude and vulnerable.
They look like a preemie.
They look like a baby that was born too soon.
I want to just put them in plexiglass.
Dude, if I understand being bald sucks, I'm probably headed there myself.
But grow a beard and grow out the sides and wear a hat, like a baseball hat or something.
Don't put glasses on your head, by the way.
That is the dumbest toupee I've ever seen, that plastic toupee guys wear.
They'll wear sunglasses or just their own glasses on top of their head.
Like that Don Imus producer.
Pretty cool guy.
Great guy.
I love him.
But the glasses on the head thing is like, I know subconsciously you feel like there should be something up there and you need your glasses.
So you pop them on your head.
I saw a guy at a baseball game the other day and he had sunglasses on his head to create the illusion of plastic bangs.
It's really irritating.
And say you are bald, right?
It's like being ugly or having a big mole on your face or something or having like an insane nose like James DeMoore, the dude who was fired from Google.
He looks like a toucan.
So you have a handicap.
That's fine.
We all have handicaps.
I have no chin.
I built a fake chin out of hair.
But when you're just like, the only guy who can get away with flip-flops and, you know, a baggy shirt would maybe be Terry Shappert, you know, a Navy SEAL or some sort of MMA guy.
Joe Rogan could probably do it.
But if you're not built like a brick shithouse and you're skinny and bald, wear rod labors, khakis from J. Crew, and a sports-themed t-shirt and have some stubble and a bit of hair on your head.
Otherwise, you look like you're dying.
You look like a cancer patient.
Anyway, so this cancer patient is in front of my house, and I don't like that because I'm a public figure.
And here's the other big problem.
I'm in the suburbs now where everyone is nice and there's no problems, but I'm from New York City past 15 years.
So everything sketches me out.
It's weird moving to the suburbs because you're used to always having your backup.
You're having your ears pricked, as they say in Britain.
I remember there was that Buzz Lauldron guy who had a big, what do you call that when you read a thing to a bunch of graduating kids, State of the Union for Kids, thingamadoodle.
And he said, stay in New York till you're hard, then move to LA until you're soft.
There's weird penile connotations to those adjectives, but he meant, you know, stay in New York till you're a vicious killer and then chill out.
And I think I stayed in New York too long because I'm always looking at people like, what's going on with you?
Actually, it's a good instinct to have, and you'll see that later on because I got a long story here.
So I got a bad vibe about him.
Now, here's another problem.
So you live in New York City and you're always sketched out.
Everyone could be fighting you at any moment.
So you're always on your tippy toes.
What?
What'd you say?
What's going on over there?
You never, like, I don't know how many times I've stopped walking, gone two steps to the right, and let the person behind me overtake me because I don't like the way they're walking.
I'm convinced one time a guy was trying to steal my briefcase because I just did a 90-degree turn and crossed the street and I could see him sort of going, ah, fuck.
A white junkie.
Junkies are thieves.
End of story.
If you have a junkie in your life and you lose something, you didn't lose it.
He stole it.
Get it back.
I don't know why you let a junkie in your house.
You're an idiot.
So I have that, right?
This sort of paranoia that's healthy in a lot of places.
I'm also married to an Indian.
Now, here's the deal I'm learning after 15 years or whatever it's been with this Indian.
They're paranoid.
The ones who are totally open-minded and think things are going to be groovy are dead.
We gave them smallpox.
That's a myth, by the way.
Just time out.
Time out.
The smallpox thing was a discussion two generals had during the 400-year war.
And one of them goes, what about this?
What about we give them smallpox?
Like, what if we put smallpox in blankets or something like that?
We could probably kill a lot of them.
And then the other guy goes, nah, it sounds too dangerous.
It's not the future.
We don't have labs yet.
We're just here in the woods.
I feel like we'd end up giving ourselves smallpox.
You know, like in the future when those suicide bombers blow themselves up, I feel like that'll be us.
And the other general went, yeah, what the fuck am I talking about?
One of my many stupid ideas, probably because I haven't eaten in four days and I've been drinking this diarrhea water from a puddle and I'm not thinking straight.
But thanks for correcting me, Lieutenant Smarty Pants.
That was the whole smallpox thing.
It never happened.
But anyway, paranoid Indians abound.
Even her mother is paranoid.
Like I remember we were upstate at our country house, which we've since sold.
And my brother and my brother-in-law are around the same age.
And they go out to get some beers, go to a bar.
There's lots of bars everywhere in the world.
Everywhere in the Western world.
And they're gone for a tiny bit longer than you'd think.
So my mother-in-law starts going, I think they're in danger.
I think maybe it was snowing like crazy.
I think they crashed the car.
They could be stranded.
They could be freezing to death.
Now, Scottish people, Scots and Indians are a bad combination because Scots are so open-minded that they're like, you think so?
You think they could be digged?
That's terrible.
I should go take care of that.
So my dad jumps in his car and starts driving around going bar to bar to bar trying to find them.
In fact, I found out from a local bartender that he went in there and he said, I'm looking for these two boys.
One looks like Charles Bronson.
The other looks like a tall Gavin McInnes.
And The guy says, Oh, yeah, they were in here.
They're good guys.
And then my dad goes, No, they're not.
They're fucking idiots.
He's mad at them for making everyone worry, but it wasn't their fault.
It was the Indians.
Sort of like, you know, what's a strange combination?
Israelis and Arabs, genetically.
Israel is a strange genetic, it's a genetic conundrum at the end of the day.
Because Arab culture over centuries has been, breed the strongest, toughest, most scary dude.
He's the, that's their hierarchy of values is warrior.
So I don't care about intelligence or anything.
I just want the most scary motherfucker to be the top and breed him with stuff and make more of them.
So you end up with a whole tribe of violent, scary dudes.
Conversely, Jewish culture has always been the rabbi, the smartest guy in the tribe is the best.
I don't care how strong he is or how violent he is.
The smartest guy is the best.
Let's make him a rabbi and let's match him up with like the most successful, richest guy's daughter.
Let's breed that.
Now, it's not necessarily a conscious decision, but culturally, when there's merit in this, then that becomes the tribe, right?
If like long legs were cool, then those people would end up being, you know, 6'5.
It's like a cultural evolution becoming biological evolution.
So Jews end up, if they're culturally, you know, within their group, like Israel, not, you know, part of a bigger picture like in America, where they would crossbreed and stuff.
Jews, cultural Jews, end up being highly intellectual and not necessarily violent and tough.
Then you put these two groups right next to each other in the Middle East.
So you have this overthinky group who pontificates too much and is always stroking their beards going, what does that mean exactly?
I mean, when you think about it, you know, a lot of our comedy is Jewish.
Like Larry David, his whole thing is like, what are you doing, you pig parker?
You can't park there.
Everyone has to park in between the lines.
They're very thinky.
Like Seinfeld is very pontificating.
You know, minutiae, focusing on minutiae.
That's not an Arab thing.
Arab thing is just Aluha Akbar.
So terror ends up being the perfect way to fight this group.
So the Arabs go, I'm tough, I'm violent, I'm a badass.
I'm going to throw a rocket over here.
And instead of them going, fuck you, blowing up everyone who did it, they go, oh, what are they doing?
Oh, they're throwing rockets.
We should try to negotiate.
We should try to work it out.
Hmm, what's their point?
Let's have Camp David.
Let's invite Yasser Arafat.
Bill Clinton will come down.
We'll work it out.
We'll work it out.
Let's talk about it.
Here, I have some charts.
The Palestinians don't want charts.
They want Israel.
They just want you to leave and to take it over.
No negotiation.
Bill Clinton had a great plan that wasn't that generous to the Israelis, by the way.
It was a very pro-Palestinian plan.
And Yasser Arafat went, I don't like it.
Actually, no, I think he just walked out and left.
So when you're dealing with an intellectual, terror is an excellent tool because you throw in one rocket and they have 500 discussions.
That was what frustrated me when I was in Israel because I was just like, just kick their ass.
Stop being a pussy.
And they did.
I met this guy, Danny D-A-N-Y-T Jar, or something like that.
He was the one who built the wall.
And even he was so apologetic about it.
Oh, you know, people say this wall is ugly.
And I just put my fingers on his lips.
Shh, Danny.
Shh.
It's beautiful.
My only regret with this wall is you don't have a pocket pussy every six feet, so I can fuck it.
This is a work of art.
We need this.
In fact, Forbes had a big article like, Trump needs to talk to Danny Tizar about the wall.
I actually have that article.
I was just reading about this the other day.
Now I can't find it.
God damn it.
Show full history.
Forbes, Forbesity Forbes.
This is not a good podcast.
I'm wasting your time, and I'm already in a tangent.
Here we go.
Israeli.
Oh, here we go.
Forbes.
What Trump can learn from the man who built Israel's border walls.
And by the way, only 5% of it is that big giant monstrosity that Banksy wants to do graffiti on.
The other 95 is just a normal-looking fence.
Danny Turza is his name.
T-I-R-Z-A, D-A-N-Y.
The rest of it is just a smart fence where you've got, you know, a mile of barbed wire with sensors, and someone comes near it, two guys jump in a truck and head over and go, what are you doing?
Get the fuck back.
Isn't it weird, by the way, that someone's mad at a wall?
Like, if your neighbor builds a stainless steel front door, you get pissed off, that means you want to go to your neighbor's house, isn't it?
If your neighbor makes his entire home steel, but it looks fine and doesn't hurt the property value in the neighborhood, why do you give a shit?
You clearly want to come over to my house.
Anyway, so that's a funny combination, Israelis and Arabs.
I mean, it just looks like two people, like the Balkans with the Croats and the Serbs, but it's not that.
It's two totally genetically different people with totally different values.
And I think the Palestinians appreciate strength.
So I think they see the wall as a giant fuck you.
And I think they go, hmm, that's kind of badass.
They've stopped stroking their beards and being intellectuals, and now they want to fight and play hardball.
I appreciate that.
Never heard any Palestinians say that, but my gut says that's their instinct.
That's their sort of subliminal subconscious feeling about it.
Anyway, Indians and Scots are similarly mismatched.
And when someone says, those people are fucking with you, you go, they are?
Here, I'm going to check that out.
Here are you?
Are you fucking with me?
And inevitably, the person goes, no, you're with an Indian and they got in your head.
So my wife gets in my head about this bald dude.
And she's like, what the fuck's going on with that guy?
I don't like that.
The kids are around.
I don't like him.
And then I go, he's here to kill the kids.
He's going to, he's taking out the police.
He's learning my habits.
I've got to confront him.
So I go outside, but then I think, wait, what if I'm wrong?
Or what if he's a lunatic and I go, What are you doing here?
And the worst thing you can do with like a stalker or a mental person is confront them.
Try it next time a homeless person messes with you.
Tell them to fuck off and watch him follow you for the rest of your life.
So they're kind of like tar.
Like you touch them and then you get on your fingers and you touch your other hand.
Next thing you know, you're covered in homeless, crazy person.
So I don't do that.
I follow him.
I wait until he leaves and then I follow him.
And he walks down through the park and I'm hiding behind bushes like Inspector Gadget.
And I never quite let him out of my sight.
And here's a good trick, by the way, I've learned in my one-time doing detective work.
Have your phone in your hand and be mimicking FaceTime.
So I'm moving my lips like, looking at my phone in case he turns around.
I'm not following you, dude.
I'm talking to my great aunt.
So he goes down and then he goes by the far end of the park where the baseball diamonds are and he starts going through the bushes there.
Oh, no, first he goes to the garbage and he shakes his backpack out in the garbage.
What?
You weren't near a beach.
There's no sand.
What are you doing?
And then he goes to the bushes, does something in the bushes.
I assume that's like his camp at this point.
And then he leaves.
And so I follow him.
And then I lose sight of him.
I don't know how.
And he's gone.
Now, I'm at a point now where I'm at the far end of the park where it's beautiful, pastoral.
There's no kids near there.
That's all rich people, honestly, $10 million homes.
So he must have gone into one of the $10 million homes.
So I think, that's weird.
And then I go, I give up, right?
Because I checked all the other roads.
So he must be in one of these homes because he's nowhere down any road.
So I come back to the stash spot in the bushes and I start going through the bushes, very thorny bushes, not the kind of place you could camp.
And I see beer cans, about four beer cans, fancy beer.
Some stupid stout ale fucking pumpkin bullshit.
Why the fuck you would want to have anything but the king of beers is a mystery to me.
Why do you want a prince or a pauper when there's a king named Budweiser right there for less than a dollar a beer?
I think Budweiser is the same price it was when I was a kid in 1984 when I started drinking.
I don't think Bud has adjusted their price.
That's pretty fucking reasonable, by the way.
I'm at the point now where if I have guests over, like we're having a party, I don't get fancy beers.
Fuck them.
I don't want you in my house.
We're not getting your stupid fucking India pale ale IPA shit.
Fuck you, craft beer faggot.
Drink butter, don't drink, or don't come over.
I could be, I could not have had a beer for 48 hours, which is basically worse than Lent.
And if someone offered me an India Pale Ale, I would consider that nothing.
Same with Jack Daniels.
If I'm on a plane and they don't have Makers or Woodford or some sort of bourbon, I just, oh, well, I guess I'm not going to enjoy this flight.
Fuck you.
That's the way it is when you're old.
That's the annoying thing about that movie Flight with Denzel Washington, about the guy who did Coke and was drunk and he saved everyone by turning a plane upside down.
And then he got in trouble anyway because he was drunk.
And then when he's trying to get clean, he's throwing out all his booze and he's throwing out vodka and whiskey and bourbon and 32 different types of beer.
Hey, writers of Flight, that's not what us drunks do.
We have our two brands, Budweiser, Makersmark.
Usually drunks have vodka.
And they'll have a fancy vodka because I don't know why.
They'll have gray goose or something.
But us drunks have our one brand.
And if they don't have that brand, they don't have anything.
I could be dying for a booze.
And my wife will have like a vodka martini.
There's vodka in the fridge, in the wine cooler thing.
But I just, that's the same as no booze.
And I'll just go, shit, we're out of booze.
If we don't have butter makers, we're out of booze.
Anyway, he has these weird IPAs there.
And then I come back and there he is.
I guess he went in to get something, maybe a glass of water or something.
And there he is on the street and he's having a FaceTime call.
And I do this thing that men do where what you're saying is not the thing you're saying.
The actual verbiage, the dialogue is totally irrelevant and it's all about body language.
And so I go, how you doing?
And he goes, I'm on a call.
Little fucking preemie with his headphones.
And I go, okay, I noticed you're at the park there.
And then he sort of motions to his headphones and I basically say with my body that I don't give a fuck about your stupid call, you unemployed dork.
And he goes, yeah, yeah, I was there.
And I go, what's going on?
Is that your spot?
You got your spot there by the bush, just sitting on the ground by a bush, not near a bench or anything?
And he goes, yeah, yeah.
You like that?
Dude, I was at the boxing gym the other day, and there was a black and a white guy, and they were lower middle class.
And usually if kids are at a gym, boxing gym, they're not there for sport.
They're there because they're going to pursue this professionally.
So they're good fighters.
But the black guy's better than the white guy, obviously.
And the black guy's very dark skinned and taller than the white guy.
And they're saying, we got to move out, man, live in our parents' house.
And the black guy's like, fuck that, man.
I ain't trying to pay no rent.
That's the new hot thing.
Ain't trying.
I was at the beach, and there's this white kid, and the lifeguard and the head lifeguard, who's an old dude, comes over and he goes, how's it going over here?
And he goes, well, that kid, she ain't trying to put a shirt on.
There was like a five-year-old girl who was topless.
You could see her big, huge pendulous tits hanging down.
Who cares if a five-year-old, there's no such thing as a topless five-year-old, okay, of any gender.
You need tits before it's an issue.
Maybe 11, 12, and up, we can start talking.
What the fuck?
Why do you care about a five-year-old, you disgusting pig?
It's actually more pedophiliast to notice that a five-year-old has her shirt off.
Anyway, it annoyed me that he was using this black vernacular.
Yo, that kid ain't trying to put a shirt on.
Anyway, he goes, I ain't trying to pay no rent.
And then he goes, Wait, that's what he said the other day.
He goes, When?
Thursday?
Oh, yeah, Thursday.
Oh, yeah.
Did I say that?
Yeah, that was Thursday.
We were sparring.
That's when you beat the shit out of me.
So I'm just, I'm doing my raps listening to this.
And then the black guy goes, You like that?
Now, I regret, I don't like to talk at the gym.
I'm not there to make friends, and I don't want anyone to know who I am.
But I kind of regret not going, well, that got gay real fast.
Isn't that a fucked up thing to say to your friend?
You like that?
And then the white guy didn't say anything.
He just sort of kept, I think they were taking off their wraps.
He just sort of kept taking off his wraps.
No, I didn't like...
What the fuck?
Anyway, I said you like that to the preemie.
And he goes, I go, so what's that about?
What are you doing there?
Just praying and meditating.
Praying and meditating.
Praying and meditating.
And then it hit me.
Oh, I know what's going on.
This guy is a rich kid.
He's probably close to my age, by the way.
He's in his 40s.
And he's never really had a job.
He's a fucking loser.
He's one of these super rich kids who will go to Italy and take a pottery class for four months and then come back and do nothing with that.
And then he goes to Malaysia, probably fucks, probably gay or something.
He fucks with some 15-year-olds.
And then he comes back.
Then he's working on a book and it's like 700 pages.
And then he stops doing, you know, those kind of guys, rich guys, they're just always working on some stupid project that never goes anywhere.
And then they get into oxy and then they end up in rehab.
And then they suffer from antic depression and they're only stupid pills.
Anyway, my theory is that he just got out of rehab.
He's suffering from anticipation.
His parents are just going, well, we have our other two kids are in finance and one's a doctor.
The third one's a doctor.
I know I said two each.
They have four kids.
Two are in finance, one's a doctor, and one's this fucking loser.
And they figure, I just don't want him to kill himself.
So let's just, he can stay here for maybe five years.
And so he tells them he's clean.
That's the one condition.
You have to be clean.
So he still, he doesn't do oxy anymore, but he smokes pot and drinks.
And so when he was going to the garbage, he was shaking out any potential pot residue, any leaves or whatever, shavings that you have.
So he was shaking that out.
And then it was that stash he went to in the bushes, it was him throwing out the three stupid IPAs he had.
So he's not really, that's pretty reasonable, actually, if you were a junkie and you're down to three IPAs and some toques.
I don't fault him for that.
But by the way, when junkies are ticking time bombs, I've had 12 acquaintances die of heroin overdoses, some very close friends, and most of them die of Bud.
Their tolerance is up.
They're up to a $300 a day habit.
I'm not exaggerating, by the way.
And then they get clean.
Their tolerance goes down.
They're at a bachelor party.
They drink a Budweiser.
They haven't had anything to drink in three months.
And then they have another Budweiser.
Then they have five.
And then someone says, let's do some Coke.
And then they do some Coke.
And then they're high and wasted.
And then they're drinking hard liquor.
And then they go, let's get some fucking smack.
Then they get some heroin.
And they're used to doing like a huge rail, a huge line, not shooting it, snorting it.
And so they do what they used to do back when they had a high tolerance.
OD, dead.
So we have our little chest puffing thing and totally regardless of what actually was said, the body said, don't fucking stay there anymore.
And he said, fine, no problem, weirdo.
And that was me being like a New York City dude to some poor suburban mental patient.
So anyway, I go to the local bar the next night, which is last night.
I was going to say the premi hasn't returned, but it's only been a day.
So we'll see.
But I don't think he's coming back.
So I go to the local bar.
Now, I'm in the suburbs, the affluent suburbs, and there's this local bar that's open to four.
I like it.
But I forgot that Thursday night is au pair night.
Au paire is when you fly in a young French girl to be half a mom.
So the mom can work.
Everyone says woman in the workforce is going great.
Yeah, then why do you have to import all this love from the rest of the world?
And these women will work basically for nothing.
I've actually heard that some of them will fuck the dude.
And it's, my brother told me this, and he doesn't know anything about au pairs, so don't take this to the bank.
But my brother told me that sometimes they'll factor in the price.
Like, okay, $300 a month, and then you fuck my husband when he gets horny because I'm sick of fucking him.
I don't know, Kyle.
That sounds like horseshit.
Anyway, the au pairs go there and just fuck.
I knew a bartender at the bar who's not there anymore.
And he told me he used to just fuck au pairs every Thursday.
And they were like Irish sometimes, usually French, and they just go, you know, I understand that this is a summer for you.
And if you want to make love to other girls, you want to base them, then that is fine with me.
I want you to know.
I have a boyfriend in Montmartre.
So it's packed with young girls.
And then, of course, where there's fruit, there's fruit flies.
And actually, fruit flies means girls who like gays.
Where there's shit, there's fucking flies.
So all these young men show up.
And so it's a very young scene.
And I'm there with my buddy, this cop dude.
He looks like a bullfrog.
You know when they find a body from someone who jumped off the bridge and it's been in the water for four weeks?
That's what he looks like.
He looks like someone took a bicycle pump and rammed it up his ass and just went.
Like you don't want to poke him with a pin.
He'll pop.
He really does.
Like pick up a bullfrog and hold it up and now Photoshop a face on the bottom of the frog's mouth.
And that is my buddy.
So he's there and he's telling me fucking amazing cop stories.
I got to tell you, man, I remember the other podcast where I said, my only beef is with the borings.
If you're interesting, I don't care where you are on the political spectrum.
All I care about is interesting.
I don't care about IQ, nothing.
I don't care if we have the same interests.
I mean, that's convenient when my jokes land because you've seen every episode of Mr. Show, but I don't really care about that.
I just want interesting and cops.
Oh, you know what he told me last night?
I never fucking thought of.
You know, Mike the Cop?
I have him on my show sometimes.
He does these comedy videos.
And I said to my buddy, I go, I think I like about Mike the Cop is he humanizes cops.
And they have this reputation as being Terminators that just shoot people for no reason and are racist, etc.
And I think Mike is cool because he says, no, we're actually human beings.
And the top brass won't let police talk to the media.
They won't let them say anything.
And the next thing you know, we just don't see these people as human.
And you know what he said?
He goes, good.
I don't want to be human.
I want people to be scared of me.
He said, yesterday, there were some thugs who were shooting at a window.
And that, by the way, I'm learning now from talking to people in law enforcement, doesn't mean you want to kill someone.
If you want to kill someone, you go shoot them in the head on the street.
When you shoot at a window, it means don't fuck around.
You've been selling drugs in our area, or we would think you might be snitching, or you're dating a chick that I fucked, something like that.
It's a message.
So they go in and they see that the guys who were being shot at in the house, when the cops showed up and kicked down the door, they pretended they were sleeping.
Oh, hi.
Oh, sorry to wake you.
Did you notice the bullet holes in your window and your ceiling?
Yeah, those are from guns, my friend.
Anyway, he points a gun at them and says, get the fuck up and wants to know what's going on, right?
And he goes, in that situation, I want the guy to think I'm going to kill him.
So don't humanize me.
Make me a monster.
Being a monster is a big part of my job.
That's my other problem with female cops, these little tiny five-foot-tall Puerto Rican chicks with giant fat asses.
I'm not scared of you.
I saw this black cop who was a woman.
She was maybe five foot two, exact same dimensions as my mom.
And she had on a bulletproof vest that said police, but she had long dreads, a cut-off sweatshirt, pedal pushers, and gold sneakers, like gold keds.
How is that intimidating?
When I was a kid, you just, if a cop came to your school, everyone pooped their pants.
And the person they were coming to see, well, he would just have a heart attack.
Now, fucking, some chick from Do the Right Thing shows up.
I'm like, what's up, sister?
Anyway, that sounded racist.
I didn't mean that I don't want black cops.
I don't want non-intimidating cops.
They should all be, I don't care what race they are, they should all be male.
They should all be six foot two.
He told me another funny story where these lesbians, there was a domestic dispute, and this lesbian comes out and she's a nine with huge tits and she's wearing a see-through negligee.
And people sometimes don't see cops, again, not seeing cops as human.
They see them as like a form to fill out.
So she comes bounding out of the bedroom with her see-through neglige on.
And he's staring there watching a porno.
And she doesn't even like, oh, excuse me.
Like she would never say that to me or a civilian.
She's just like, she came out, she hit me for no reason, officer, blah, blah, blah.
And he's just seeing these tits bounce around.
And then the man, I'm using air quotes, comes out with a wife beater on and says, shut the fuck up to her.
And then slaps my cop friend in the face.
So he just grabs her by the throat and throws her down and spends more time listening to the naked lady story.
One time he was going, he should have his own show.
I can't wait till he retires and I can have him on the show or something.
But one time this crackhead is there.
He walks in.
She's not bad looking, black woman.
She just has a t-shirt on.
You can see her hairy vagina and there's used condoms all over the floor.
And she's high and she goes, I want some head.
I want you motherfuckers to give me some head.
Eat my pussy right now.
You.
And she points to my buddy, the cop, the bullfrog.
She goes, you.
I want you to lick my pussy.
You got some not fine ass cheekbones.
Now he's fat.
He's not fat, but he's like huge.
So you can't see his cheekbones.
They're gone behind those fucking giant pork cheeks, pig.
So him and his partner laughed the fuck, laughed their fucking heads off about that for days.
Goodbye.
Fine-ass cheekbones.
I want a man to perform Kunalingus who has good bone structure because I might crush his head.
Anyway, so we're at Opera Knight, and it's the hunted, the prey, and the predator.
And we're off in the corner trying to mine our own beeswax.
Keep getting bumped into all the time.
And the night's going okay.
It's kind of loud for us old fogies.
Ideal man's bar.
And I've always wanted to open a bar that was just sexist by design.
So that's no TVs, no music allowed.
Just low tables like they have in Britain.
Those little stools with the little tables you sip your pints at.
And no fruity drinks.
There's a vodka bottle.
There's a whiskey bottle.
There's a bourbon bottle.
Nothing else.
No like flavored vodkas.
None of that.
And then beer is just like Budweiser, LaBat's Blue, boring beers.
Coors Light, 10 of those stupid beers.
All cheap.
And the bathrooms, here's where I get sneaky.
There's a men's bathroom right there with stand urinals that are open.
God, men and their fucking cocks.
Why are you so scared of a homosexual looking at your cock, you fucking fag?
It's like a cheeseburger.
If I'm eating a cheeseburger and I see a fat guy staring at it, I go, enjoy yourself, fat guy.
You're not having Any of this, but you can look.
You can admire my delicious cheeseburger.
I know you're not going to grab at it.
You're not a mental patient.
When I was in college, that was like the peak of gay paranoia.
And guys would go, stall, empty.
Sorry, first they would piss in the stalls.
So there's all urinals there for the taken.
And there's these guys pissing in stalls.
And then when the stalls fill up, where you, I lock the door and I have the steel wall so no one can see my pee-pee.
Meanwhile, all dicks are basically the same.
I mean, there's four skins, now four skins.
They're all normal-sized.
I'm sure there's some micropenises and some giant fucking schlongs.
But for the most part, they're all, I would imagine, pretty much the same.
All the dicks I've seen have been basically the same.
And even if you have a small dick, who cares?
The guy next to you isn't gay.
You're not dating him.
You're just pissing together.
You're not getting married.
So, yeah, it would go urinal, empty urinal.
Urinal, empty urinal.
And then there'd be a lineup.
Can you believe this?
There'd be a lineup.
And so I would just use the fucking empty urinal that's right there.
Now, I am gifted with one of the most gorgeous cocks in the universe.
It's massive and beautifully sculpted.
I've even had, I had once dated a girl who used to be a sex worker, and she was in awe of its beauty.
Although now, I think I got Peyroni's disease, and it's become a little misshapen.
But in my heyday, I mean, it could be in the cover of Cock Illustrated.
And that was unusual.
Actually, I was a cartoonist for my school paper at Carleton University.
It was called the Charlatan, and it was Pussy Central.
I don't mean getting late.
I mean Wimps.
And they kept censoring me all the time.
It's where I first learned about political correctness.
And I went through the archives.
They had the leather-bound archives there.
And I saw what it used to be in the 70s and even the 80s.
I saw a picture in the Charlatan, an editor's photograph, a picture of the editor.
It was a dick with sunglasses on the top.
So the dick was the nose, the balls were the mouth, and the pubes were his hair.
And it was an actual penis.
That's how fun they used to be.
Then I get there.
Marvin Glass, who was head of the Canadian Communist Party, who told us that it's okay to have an abortion up until a year and a half after the baby is born.
No, I'm not kidding.
And if you look this up, this is a common sentiment in academia.
He burnt his office down.
So I did a cartoon of him.
He was obsessed with the Bolsheviks and Stalin and stuff.
So I made a cartoon of him with his ashtray full of cigarettes because he was a compulsive smoker playing with little Bolshevik action figures as his ashtray caught fire.
And I did a funny, insulting caricature of him and his big, crazy, frizzy hair.
I thought, I think he called me on my wedding day, by the way.
I was told he called to wish me a happy marriage.
I don't know if I believe that.
Anyway, I didn't pick up the phone.
I was busy getting married.
They said, no, you can't do that because it implies he did it.
Oh, shit.
Okay, it's just a joke, but all right.
So then I drew an ashtray with cigarettes in it.
No, you can't do that.
That implies it was, you know, someone was at fault.
Guess what the final illustration was for the article?
I drew fire.
Just fire.
A cartoon of fire.
Just in case when you're reading about a fire, you don't know what a fire looks like.
Look at the illustration.
Doesn't that help illustrate the article?
I illustrated some flames.
Anyway, I used to do a cartoon for them too, and I did a cartoon where exactly what I just described with the urinals happen.
And the guy sees the lineup, and he goes up and goes pissing, and then there's everyone's apoplectic, complete hysteria, and they start screaming, fag, fag, and they all run out of the bathroom.
And I was obviously lampooning homophobia.
And the editors wouldn't let me run it because it had the word fag in it.
So I quit.
That was the beginning of my life as a provocateur.
Anyway, so we're at the bar.
I'm with my fat cop.
And I don't think this is true of most states, but in New York, there's five to six black people at every single bar, no matter what.
No matter how shishy it is, no matter what the area, you mean Connecticut, whatever.
So in that sense, we're pretty multicultural.
Obviously, there's more diverse cities like Charlotte, North Carolina, is it called?
Maybe it was actually Charlottesville?
No.
Charlotte, I think, is 50-50.
And most bars there are pretty similar.
There's always like five black people who like watching The Office, aren't that into sports, and think that like Jim Gaffigan is funny.
And they are more comfortable around white people generally than blacks.
Anyway, so this black dude shows up, and I didn't see the very beginning, but he starts screaming and saying the bartender, fuck you, motherfucker.
You're going to get me my beer, bitch.
You're going to get me my fucking beer.
And the bartender comes around.
He's a little tiny guy.
He looks like David Cross.
And the guy's getting in his face going, I got my money.
There's no way you're going to stop me from getting this fucking beer, bitch.
You fucking faggot.
And he starts, he shoves him.
And he starts calling them racist because they won't serve him.
But obviously there's five black dudes here who've been having a great time all night with these au pairs.
And one of them is a big, huge black guy that could kill this dude.
The black guy I'm talking about was probably 29, gold chain, but otherwise pretty middle class looking, cigarette behind the ear.
So if he's not, you know, in part of ghetto culture, he's at least subsuming elements of it.
He definitely is by his behavior.
And then this big fat dude named Chuck, who's shit faced.
I couldn't talk to him.
Like, you know, when people get, when they get this level and then they keep repeating the same story, then it's a waste of my time.
So you have to sort of like, oh, that's interesting.
I'm just going to check my phone here until you look away and go off at a tangent.
I love the guy, but not tonight.
So he just picks up the dude.
He picks up the dude and walks him out the front door.
And that guy lets him.
And I go, should we get involved?
And my cop buddy goes, if this guy was going to fuck people up, he'd already fucked people up.
You don't sit and talk about how you're going to fuck people up.
And then he goes, I'm going to come back with my burner.
Burner, of course, is a gun That can't be traced.
So it's kind of scary when someone says that.
So all the men in the bar leave, come outside, and he's like, fuck you, bitch.
I got my money.
Are you going to get my beer or what?
Yeah, you're going to get your beer.
You're going to go back inside, pay for your beer, and sit down.
Everything will be normal.
No, dude, you shoved the bartender.
You started screaming at everyone.
You're 86, I'm afraid.
So he's screaming at everyone.
The biggest, blackest dude is the one handling him because it kills the racist argument, I guess.
And everyone else is just watching, thinking, I'll jump in if things get crazy.
That's what me and the cop were doing.
Like, why go, all right, buddy, I challenge you to a duel.
If he hits someone, we'll jump in and beat him up.
But as far as, he's just a yeller at this point.
Then he goes to his car and he comes out with a baseball bat.
And some nerd is there, white rich kid, and he just goes, and the kid just runs away.
So then he starts chasing him with a baseball bat.
And now we're going, now do we intervene?
But you could tell by the way he was running that he was not trying to get this kid so he could hit him with a bat.
And he comes back, he puts his bat back in his car, he starts yelling at people.
And inevitably with the yelling, he'd slap the person or shove him, and then that would stop.
The guy wouldn't take the bait.
If someone slapped me, I would definitely fight them.
But the other guy would just like take the hit.
Then he gets his bat out again, and he's swinging it around.
And his girlfriend's crying.
And by the way, I could tell she was secretly turned on by all this.
She liked it.
In fact, that's why he was peacocking.
He was showing off to make her horny.
And it was working.
And he didn't even have to go to jail or get in a fight for it.
He got his dick sucked dry that night.
That's the thing about ladies that they'll never tell you.
Any kind of fight you get in, we're not talking about knockouts, any kind of kerfuffle where you're not going, help, help, call the cops.
Any kind of conflict makes your lady friend wetter than Niagara Falls.
And you're going to have a great night that night.
Fighting solves everything, but even pretending to fight solves a lot of stuff.
So the cop doesn't do anything.
And we just sit there.
He throws his bat back in his trunk and peels out in a BMW that looked like it's from 2008.
So that tells you the guy probably makes about $55K a year.
Probably in IT something.
Something like that.
Anyway, he peels out.
We all go back inside.
And then I noticed the preemies at the bar.
The preemie was hanging out with the giant black dude.
And then I'm starting to think, maybe you're not so weird.
I mean, if you can come to a bar and hang out, then you're not a complete mental patient.
But when you sit next to a bush all day meditating and praying, I don't know to whom, you seemed pretty kooky to me.
But you have to be relatively normal to be able to go to a bar, have money, and have a conversation with a human being.
So I was confused by that.
And I couldn't tell if it was him because I'm kind of racist towards normal people.
And it's got nothing to do with how I feel about them.
I think it's another side effect of New York where, you know, you live in Williamsburg or the Lower East Side and you have one friend that has a facial tattoo, one friend that's two feet tall, one friend who has three legs.
It's the island of Misfit Toys over there.
So you never forget a person.
Everyone has their little quirks and quarks, you know.
One guy's a black guy named Earsnot, who's a gay vandal.
One guy's named Dash Snow, who's a rich kid who was abandoned by his family when he was 13 and has been living in squats his whole life.
Another guy is like five feet tall, but he has a foot of hair and he's the guitarist for the yeahs.
And then the other guys are in the strokes.
Like, it sounds like I'm name-dropping here, but I mean, everyone has a thing that they're, it's almost like a bunch of superheroes.
In the Lower East Side, you can't just be, hi, I'm Gavin.
I work at Arby's.
You have to be like, I'm Gavin, and I'm the Canadian dude, and I run Vice, and I have a fucking, I always wear this top hat.
That's my trademark, top hat and a monocle.
So yeah, I come to the suburbs where everyone looks pretty darn similar, and I honestly, I cannot tell them apart.
I'll have these, especially moms.
They all wear Lululemons.
They look exactly the same, and they'll say, hi, Gavin.
And I'll go, hello there, lady.
How are you?
And I assume you're kids, question mark.
I just laugh and I go, hi, hey, how are you, man?
Great to see you.
No idea who you are.
No fucking clue who I'm saying hi to.
So I don't know if the premium was at the bar or not.
And then the cops showed up.
What are they going to do?
High-speed chase, block off all the highways?
He's long gone.
That's the thing about cops.
That's why you need your concealed carry permit, because cops are janitors.
They are there.
I'm not disparaging police, but they are there to clean up the mess that just happened.
They're never there to block the punch, rescue the damsel in distress, shoot the bad guy.
I mean, yeah, of course they can occasionally shoot a bad guy, but for the most part, it takes them eight minutes to get there.
The story's over.
Like the Toronto shooter, right?
The Muslim guy, he killed two girls, an 18-year-old and a 10-year-old girl.
By the way, we're much more concerned with a homeless lunatic stabbing a black girl.
That gets a march with hundreds of people.
No marches for these two girls.
No, you know, the transient loser who killed that black girl, that became all about white supremacy and we have to stop the Nazis and the KKK from invading Oakland.
Totally insane tangent based on a lie.
Yet when there's a true story, like a Muslim who shot at a Greek restaurant, and Greeks are, 98% of Greeks are Greek Orthodox, they're Christians.
So it was a guy with ties to ISIL shooting at Christians.
Anyway, he killed two.
He shot 13.
You shirt 13 people.
You probably shot out about 35 rounds.
Now, a clip, an illegal clip, is maybe 15.
That's the ones that he's got an illegal gun.
You're in Canada.
You might as well go to town with your illegal gun, right?
So he got a, this is, by the way, all part of my read for WeThepeopleHolsters.com.
If an armed citizen was there and he was wearing a customized holster from WeThepeopleHolsters.com, where if you use the passcode Gavin, you get $10 off, so it goes from $34 to $24.
Customized, you can get anything you want on it, heat molded to your gun.
You can adjust the cant and the ride on your side so it fits you perfectly.
Totally comfortable.
You don't even know it's there half the time.
You go, oh shit, I forgot.
I have a gun.
Let me shoot this terrorist.
Stay armed at WeThepeopleHolsters.com with a tight, so, a fit so tight, it'll make you leave your wife.
I'm sorry for butchering your joke, guys.
That's terrible.
Comedy's so unforgiving, isn't it?
One stutter, one letter wrong, and the joke isn't funny.
Anyway, he probably had an illegal magazine that held 50, and I believe they usually hold like 10 or 12.
I don't know.
I'm fucking gunless.
I have guns, but they're all giant.
I'm hand gunless.
So let's say he had a clip of 50.
That's three clips.
So he would have changed his clip twice as he's going, poo, boo, boo, boo.
Now, 45 poo gets you about 13 shot.
So that's four times.
The cops aren't, by the time the cops showed up, he'd left.
So you need to be armed.
And the black guy with the baseball bat screaming at everyone.
I kind of wish he got his ass kicked.
I don't like that people can get away with threatening people with an entire room of people with baseball bats.
I think a lot of it was fear.
It's an affluent white suburb and they didn't want to appear racist.
I guess the black guys should have beat him up.
Hey, black guys, can you beat up your violent fellow black guys?
We can't do it.
I'm happy to beat up all the 48-year-old aging hipsters with shitty tattoos.
I'll handle them.
You guys handle the athletic, violent lunatics with the baseball bats and the cigarettes behind their ear.
Yeah, so the cops showed up, did nothing.
And my wife and kids are away, so I'm in party mode.
And I went home and went to bed.
And unfortunately, I can't watch Get Off My Lawn on CRTV.com because I'm in it.
And it's a level of vanity I'm not prepared to reach.
I'm not prepared to cross that line of watching myself on TV.
But you can go to CRTV.com and sign up.
If you use the passcode Gavin, you also get $10 off.
I believe that brings it to like $90 or maybe $80.
Basically, it's two beers a month.
And you get to see Get Off My Lawn, the show that's on six times every two weeks, Monday to Thursday, and then Monday and Tuesday.
And the short week, I go to DC.
I shoot CR-TV Tonight with Gavin McInnes.
That's a fun show.
And I take the most sexy guest from CRTV Tonight, and then I do another show with them called After Hours, where we sort of Joe Rogan it up at the bar and get really into it.
Not three hours like Joe does, but about 30 minutes.
So that's another show.
That's three shows you get with Get Off My Lawn.
And unlike this podcast, Get Off My Lawn is political.
It's the news.
It's basically feminists are stupid.
Islam is a threat.
America is great.
The West is the best.
Guns are awesome.
Housewives rule.
We need to be more respectful of entrepreneurs.
They are the ones paying our bills.
Socialism is for mental patients.
You know, logical stuff like that.
I'm seen as far right to the media class, but I am just normal dad politics.
Every dad who sees what happens to his paycheck, who is anti-rape.
Taxes rape.
Every dad is totally aware of the perils of immigration and high taxes and socialism and all that stuff because we've lived it.
Only dads should be able to vote at the end of the day.
Actually, everyone over 18 should legally be able to vote, including ex-cons.
But dads are the only ones who should vote at the end of the day.
Anyway, I'm getting too political for this show.
This is supposed to just be goofy stories.
And I had a preemie on my lawn that was at a bar where a black guy threatened to kill us all with his burner gun.
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