COMEDY: Dark>Friends, et al.

Note to reader: This is a live document – a script for spoken-word performance; I perform this on stage in comedy clubs in New York City. Because you’re reading it,  jokes may  become lost in translation. Also, you are hereby advised that this piece discusses deviant sexual practices, and descriptions of those practices which may be considered by some to be more deviant than the practices themselves.JR

Friends, Acquaintances & Buddies

I remember when I was twelve or thirteen years old, my father told me, “Jimmy…be careful how you use the word, ‘friend.’ Many people have many acquaintances,” he’d say, “but very few people have more than one or two friends. Friends are special.”

He never specified anything about buddies.

One day, years later, in my early twenties, confused about my sexuality but certain I knew what my dad was talking about, I invited my two friends to join me at a porn theater. I’d heard about these rooms there called “buddy booths,” and thought it’d be cool to check them out. Ever since then, I’ve only had acquaintances. And I’m fairly certain my acquaintances don’t have any friends either, because whenever I’m at the buddy booths, so are they.

For those who don’t know about buddy booths, let me explain to you what they are. You probably think you’d go to a buddy booth to get a buddy. You go to a telephone booth to get a telephone. And you go to the toll booth to pay a toll. But you don’t go to the buddy booth to get a buddy. You go to get an acquaintance.

More precisely, you go to get acquainted with a stranger’s penis, mouth, hands or rectum, and you use something inside the buddy booth called a glory hole to do that.

Like buddy booth, gloryhole is a misleading name. It’s a hole, alright, but there’s nothing glorious about it.  

When you think glory, you think grandeur, brightness, splendor, magnificence and majesty. But there’s a big difference between “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord,” and “Mine mouth has drained the glory juice from your electric cord.”

The gloryhole is a fairly simple concept: You take an eight-foot-tall sheet of plywood, cut a hole in it about thirty inches above the floor, and put a guy with an erection on either side. Make sure the diameter and radius of the hole is large enough to accommodate the erect penis of an adult elephant.  

The infamous Los Angeles Madam Alex Adams once said, “There isn’t enough blood in the human body to allow a man to have an erection and think straight at the same time.” She was right.

Once upon a time, some guy with a boner was the first guy to think it’d be a good idea to stick his stiff prick into an un-sanded, freshly cut hole in a sheet of cheap plywood hoping a stranger he couldn’t see on the other side would suck it.

And once upon a time, before that time, there was another man, also with a boner, who also happened to have some spare plywood, a saw, and some down time.  

Directly beneath the glory hole—and by directly beneath I mean beginning one half millimeter beneath the lower edge of the hole—a miniature glacier made of semen, saliva, pubic hair and lube creeps down the plywood, and along the baseboard of the booth, ending up in a La Brea-tar-pit of fossilized cum and used condoms that’s been in the corner of the booth since Nixon bombed Cambodia.

As I said…there is nothing glorious about this hole.

Indeed, a better name for it might be Hell Hole, because if you use one, you’re immediately condemned to a hellish future of high anxiety wondering if your buddy gave you Syphilis, Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, Herpes, Hepatitis or Ebola.

So the take away…the moral of the story if you will, is this: Be careful using the word, ‘friend’ when speaking to a child.

Tell them, “Many people have many acquaintances, but very few people have more than one or two friends.”

Friends, I’d advise telling them, are special.

Let them know that acquaintances will come and go, and some of them will give you an STD.

And when it comes to buddies…well…I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-four so I’d never have to tell my kid about buddies. What’s that old saying? Those who forget history are condemned to repeat it? 


Thank you everyone. Goodnight.