75g: Richard Pryor / Gil Scott-Heron
Richard Pryor Stand-Up
Richard Pryor: The pictures, uh, the pictures that you
saw on the TV between the commercials -- that's my
family. That was my grandmother, the last one.
[Applause.] I didn't want you to think I was sellin'
my family or nothin', you know. Grandmother raised me,
you know, used to send me to church and stuff so I'd
be good. But I liked to hang with the winos. I did.
'Cause winos know Jesus personally. Very religious,
you know. Every wino, you ask 'em, "Where's Jesus?"
[imitates a screaming wino] "JESUS! HE LIVE OVER IN
THE PROJECTS!" And I'd stand around watchin' 'em
direct traffic early Sunday morning. Winos are great
at directin' traffic, you know.
[as the wino, whistles] "HEY, FOOL! YOU BETTER SLOW
THAT CAR DOWN! DON'T COME DRIVING DOWN THROUGH HERE
LIKE YOU CRAZY! THIS A NEIGHBORHOOD -- THIS AIN'T NO
RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT! You could have killed that sign,
anything! I ain't a-playin' with you. I'll put a
hurtin' on you, boy. Mess with me. [mumbling to
himself, he mimes pulling a bottle from his back
pocket, has trouble unscrewing the top] Damn! [drinks,
makes a face] Whoooo! Buddy, buddy! [screws the top
back on and pockets the bottle while singing
wordlessly] Jesus on my mind! [puts index finger to
the side of his nose and blows, repeats with the other
index finger, gets snot on sleeve, wipes it off on his
pants, shakes his head sadly] I ain't good as I used
to be. [sees something and points] Now, look at him,
look at that boy over there, standin' in the middle of
the street. Boy's a stone junkie. Look at him. Used to
be a genius. Used to book the numbers, didn't need
paper or pencil. Look at him. Now he can't remember
who he is. [whistles] Hey, Junior! GET OUT OF THE
STREET, BOY! NIGGER, YOU AIN'T NO STOP SIGN! GET OFF
THE STREET! JUNIOR!"
[imitates the junkie, mouth open, head thrown back,
face to the sky, straightens up, looks around in a
panicked daze] "What's happenin'?! Hey! What's
happenin'?! I know somethin' happenin' 'cause
everything movin'. HEY, OLD DUDE! Pops! You got
anything? I feel bad enough to drink some milk."
[as the wino] "Yeah, I got somethin' for ya, boy! Come
on off that street. That narcotic done made you null
and void. Come here, boy. Come here. Nasty, stinkin'
devil, you. Whyn't you get a job, boy, go to work?"
[as the junkie] "Get a job? Go to work? You talkin' to
the kid, baby. I worked five years in a row when I was
in the joint. I did a nickel, baby. And I can work my
tail off, man, pressin' license plates. That's right.
But where niggers gonna get a job out here pressin'
license plates? Huh? I went to the unemployment
bureau... Damn, baby. [falls asleep on his feet,
audience applauds, Pryor abruptly wakes up, confused]
Was I through? [after a pause, resumes his story] I
walked to the unemployment bureau, walked downtown --
clean, you know what I mean? Walked up to the lady
sittin' in there with a ol' tiara on her head, typin'
tip tip tip tip tip. I said, HEY! She said: [woman's
voice] 'Ooh ooh!' I say, Hey! What's happenin'? She
looked at my paper: [woman's voice] 'You got a
criminal record!' I said, I know that! I'm a criminal!
Tell me somethin' I don't know. Like where I'm gonna
get a job pressin' license plates. I slapped the you
know what. She got all upset. [woman's voice] 'Oooh
ooh ooh ooh! Don't hurt me, don't hurt me!' I say, I
ain't gonna-- Be cool, old lady -- you know? I ain't
gonna take no bust for no old lady. Old nigger with a
gun down there come on: [voice of a cranky old man,
slapping his holstered gun with his hand] 'Hey, what's
the trouble, buddy? Come on, what's going on? What's
the trouble?' Hey, YOU the trouble, Tex! Who you
supposed to be? Jesse James? Made me sick, man. I
threw up on the floor. He talkin' 'bout: [cranky old
man's voice] 'Clean it up, baby, clean it up.' I ain't
cleanin' no nothin'. If I'd a-wanted it, I'd a-kept
it! [Applause.] But I'm hurtin', baby, you know? I
went home, y'know. Mama called me a dog. Ma dear, she
did. Daddy say he don't wanna see me in the vicinity.
Just 'cause I stole his television. Wasn't nothin' on
it. Can you help me out, old dude? Please? I'm sick,
man. [sings weakly] Help me make it through the night.
[as the wino] "I'm gonna help you, boy. 'Cause I
believe you got potential. That's right, you can be
somebody 'cause you're sharp, know what I mean? [takes
out bottle, unscrews it, hands it to the junkie] Try
some o' that. Don't you drop it, nigger! Put ... Slow
down. Just take a sip! Go ahead. [watches junkie take
a long swallow] You know somethin' about football,
don't you? PASS IT! [applause, takes bottle, wipes
rim] You know what your problem is? You don't know how
to deal with the white man! You got a white man
complex. I know how to deal with him. That's why I'm
in the position I'm in today." [drinks from the
bottle, makes a face, screws the top back on, and
pockets it] Thank you. [Much applause.]