A sweet, elderly woman from the Deep South approached me after a show on Royal Caribbean and said, “Son, you were great, but could I make a suggestion?” I thought, “Oh, no—here it comes. She didn’t care for the occasional bad language and she’s going to complain.” She says very sternly, “You were funny, but you weren’t dirty enough. Put some funk on it. You don’t got enough dick in yer bits. Make love to that audience, gently at first, then f*ck ’em hard.” I stood there aghast, laughed a nervous little laugh and told her that I had cleaned up my act somewhat, but if she came back to the late show, I’d work a little bluer for her. She came back, brought her big hat wearing friends and I told the crowd about our conversation and damn if I didn’t put some mother-f*ckin’, t*tty-lickin’ dicks in my bits—and you know what? It killed, and was fun letting loose with Big Momma’s blessing. Her whole table gave me a standing ovation, demanding the rest of the crowd to get off their God damn feet and stand up for the man who had the balls to put some dick in his bits.
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