Hello, kind bouncer.
Why of course I'll remove my head wear. I can tell by your 6 dollar cover charge that this establishment exudes classiness. I would hate to be rude.
Excuse me, though. Where do you recommend I place my chapeau? In that miasma to your right? Perhaps I could leave it next to that girl passed out in the corner? Oh, she's with you? Well of course she is, good sir.
I'll just hold on to it. Fear not, fair bouncer, for I am a man of my word, and I promise not to place my stetson on my head while inside lest I tarnish your stellar reputation.
Where, pray tell, may I find entertainment, sir? Ah yes, the dance floor. Who is providing tonight's entertainment? Fatman Scoop? No, I'm not familiar, but the way he paints the picture of the New York Transit Line, well, I feel like I'm on Engine #9 itself.
Barkeep, what's your finest Scotch? Bud Light? I'm not familiar with that blend, but I trust your scholared taste in libations. Ah, I can tell you use only the finest in plastic cup technology for serving your patrons. You sir, are why tipping was invented.
Well, kind bouncer, I'm back from my whirlwind tour of your establishment. Thank you for reminding me to remove my hat in such a classy place. Onward I go, my friend, may your eye for false identification remain strong and steadfast, you fucking holier than thou douche bag.
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The pilot episode of Gay Robot, which is fanfuckingtastic. It features "Jeff" from Grandma's Boy, who, not only has a fucking sweet car bed, but also has a gay robot, aptly named GaY Robot. it also features Randolph's own Nichole Hiltz, who got myself and her brother Justin backstage at my first concert. Presidents Of The United States, baby.