Episode 1 - Pilot / Ginger Giant

After Mayor Zany signs an ordinance requiring all city departments to incorporate animals into their work, Chief introduces the guys to the newest member of their crew. Though the gang is skeptical at first, Orangutan Firefighter’s grip strength breaks all of their hands.

Episode 2 - Learning Curve

Orangutan Firefighter makes a series of first-day blunders, including climbing up the fire pole and eating raw mangoes with his feet, earning him the nickname “monkey.” Meanwhile, someone’s been shedding hair all over the firehouse, and it’s up to Chief to figure out who.

Episode 3 - Mix-Ups and Fix-Ups

Orangutan Firefighter is placed on radio duty, but he can only use sign language. This teaches the guys a valuable lesson about communication, although the hospital does burn down. Later, Murphy and Helen finally get together, while a trip to the zoo makes Orangutan Firefighter ponder the cruelty of human society.

Episode 4 - Seeing Orange

At the annual softball game against the police department, Orangutan Firefighter builds a nest at home plate. It’s the greatest prank in precinct history. Also, when the health inspector visits the station to enforce the new mayor’s anti-animal legislation, Orangutan Firefighter has to spend the whole inspection wearing glasses. Guest star Ted Danson.

Episode 5 - Trees Company

Helen confesses to Murphy that she has feelings for Orangutan Firefighter. But guess who Chief has just assigned to join the two of them on Ladder #1!

Episode 6 - Reach for the Canopy

Orangutan Firefighter is promoted to chief after his mating call scares off all rival males in his territory. Plus, Helen shares some exciting news: she’s pregnant! This prompts Orangutan Firefighter to take the first boat to Borneo. Orangutan fathers are notoriously absent.

We hear these terms all the time, but what do they actually mean? Check out these examples to get a better idea.

Job

Blue-Collar: Mining.

White-Collar: Mining for gold.

Crime

Blue-Collar: Things like robbery, assault, vandalism, plus all other crimes.

White-Collar: Same as the above, but no one gets arrested.

Family

Blue-Collar: Humble. Proud. They get their hands dirty, then make a home-cooked meal: love (grits).

White-Collar: Son is a DJ. Mom is a DJ. Dad is also a DJ. Together, they run an investment bank.

Drug

Blue-Collar: Television.

White-Collar: Cocaine!!!

Romance

Blue-Collar: He’s a blue-collar boy, but she’s a white-collar girl. They can never be. It’s a modern day Romeo and Juliet. 

White-Collar: He’s a white-collar boy, but she’s a high-end escort named Juliet Romanov.

Dance Move

Blue-Collar: The Macarena.

White-Collar: The Macarena (ironically).

Superhero

Blue-Collar: Jesus.

White-Collar: Reagan.

Shirt

Blue-Collar: Collarless.

White-Collar: Collared, white or blue.

When I started at the baby factory, I was just a baby, myself. Money, cars: these were things I didn’t have back then, nor were they words I could pronounce. All I owned was the denim onesie I wore to work each day, caked in puke and broken dreams.

We worked from sunup to naptime. Our foreman was a real tough guy, the type who’d only cry when he was hungry. He’d come down on you hard, but I found that the trick was just to avoid him and he’d forget all about you, as he hadn’t yet developed object permanence.

The work was brutal, and it didn’t help that half of us didn’t know how to stand. We had a union, though their negotiations with upper management never progressed beyond conversational babbling. Our only relief came at lunch, when we’d all head down to the boob around the block. Then, it was back to the baby factory. What did we make? Hell if I knew. I was only a baby.

At the end of the day, I’d go home to my baby wife (my babygirl) and our two kids—both babies, since that was all we could handle back then. Open up a can of baby food, lean back in my high chair, and watch the baby Celtics play. Why they never won, I still don’t know.

Host: Hello, and welcome back to Dementia Talk Show! Our first guest tonight is…Leonardo DiCaprio!

Audience: (applause)

Leonardo DiCaprio: Thank you, thank you! It’s a pleasure to be here.

Host: Who are you?

Leonardo DiCaprio: Well, that’s a good question. I suppose I’m an actor first, but I also like to think of myself as a humanitarian, an activist, even.

Host: You look like that actor guy…action man…

Leonardo DiCaprio: I’m Leonardo DiCaprio.

Audience: (applause)

Host: Yes! You look just like him. So, what’s your name?

Leonardo DiCaprio: Haha, do you mean—is this a bit? Hold on now—am I being Punk’d? (folds arms, rolls eyes playfully at camera)

Host: Hi, sir, can you please move off the stage? We have a show starting soon.

Leonardo DiCaprio: What? Yes, I know, I’m your guest. I’m Leonardo DiCaprio.

Audience: (applause)

Host: Yes, Leonardo DiCaprio—

Audience: (applause)

Host: Leonardo—uh, he is our guest tonight. That’s why we need you off the stage. Quickly, please. Security?

Leonardo DiCaprio: Wait! Stop! Don’t take m—did they just forget to grab me?

Host: Hello, and welcome back to Dementia Talk Show! Our first guest tonight is…Leonardo DiCaprio!

Audience: (applause)

Host: Ahh! Loud sounds! Loud sounds! Where am I?

Leonardo DiCaprio: I don’t think I’m getting paid for this.

At Black Tie Hospital, the emergency room is invitation-only.

Patients arrive in limousine ambulances. As their stretchers are rolled down the lobby’s red carpet, paparazzi snap photos of their injuries with X-ray cameras, and Vanity Fair reporters ask them for their insurance information. The wealthiest tip the orderlies for a cot with a prime location. Once there, they’re told to put on a backless satin gown and, if it’s flu season, a Venetian mask.

Every diagnosis is paired with champagne. There’s a VIP section for patients with rare diseases, and an HIV section for patients with that. Physical therapy takes place in the ballroom to the music of a band of autistic savants. Recovering addicts make small talk with psychiatrists over cocktails. Visitors are allowed, but only if they have a connection to the New York Dursts.

At the habitually sold-out operating theater, tonight’s show is a heart transplant. The patient lies on an antique fainting couch below a crystal chandelier providing light. The surgeon, a graduate of Juilliard Med, performs his task with both feeling and grace, improvising in all the right places and not letting a drop of blood stain his crisp, white tuxedo. When the operation is over, the audience demands an encore.

Yet at Black Tie Hospital, truly anything goes. People take sedatives like hors d’oeuvres. For the right price, someone will stick their hand down your pants and tell you whether you have testicular cancer—if you’re into that. Numerous high-profile patients have even been murdered, though here it’s just called medical malpractice.

Still, it remains the hub for everybody who’s anybody who’s sick. The waiting room magazines are imported from France. The vending machines only carry caviar. Every doctor is fashionably late, and all the nurses have law degrees. The sole ailment that isn’t contagious is a failure to follow the dress code.

If wealth is a disease, then the patients at Black Tie Hospital are terminal. And they are. A lot of them really are going to die soon.

I hired legendary quarterback Kurt Starr to be my life coach.

Day 1

• Kurt, I need to get my life together. Where do I start?

• The key to a perfect spiral is to put your fingers on the laces.

• [Throwing ball] Wow, amazing!

Day 2

• Kurt, what happened to all the junk food in the cabinet?

• I threw that crap out. You need to start eating better.

• But you replaced them with footballs.

• Only one way to get better at football.

Day 5

• Kurt, I don’t have the motivation to go to work today.

• How come?

• It’s my boss. He’s constantly harassing me—I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

• Let him. Your coach knows best. Remember that.

• He grabs my ass, Kurt.

• Coaches do that sometimes.

Day 7

• Kurt, I’m flying to the funeral now. What do I say to Mom? God, I should’ve been there. 

• Like Jones.

• Huh?

• Bo Jones. Wide receiver. Never got to the spot in time. He’s like you.

• I always thought I was kind of like you.

• No. You’re like Jones.

Day 10

• Kurt, I think I have to fire you.

• I get it. You were hoping I’d show you what it takes to be successful, but you’ve realized that the journey to success looks different for everyone, and the path that I know well is quite different from the one you hope to tread. I’m proud of you, both for realizing that, and for having the fortitude to act on it.

• That’s…exactly how I feel. Maybe I was wrong about you, Kurt. Forget what I said. Now, go long!

• No way. We agreed, I’m quarterback.

The Old Guy at My Office: Zoom

The Old Guy at My Office: Zoom!

The Old Guy at My Office: Zoooooooooom!

Me: what are you doing

The Old Guy at My Office: I want to make this video go faster.

The Old Guy at My Office: ZOOM!!!

The Old Guy at My Office: It is still not working.

I work as a male stripper. What does that mean? Lots of people think that a male stripper is a man who takes his clothes off in exchange for money. Those people are wrong. I am a male stripper, which means that I take off men’s clothes, often for money, but also sometimes for charity.

Now, the man losing his clothes? That’s the male strippee. The male stripper and the male strippee are often confused, but make no mistake, they could not be more different. In fact, they are opposites. For example, by the end of the act, a male strippee is dressed in approximately zero clothes. In contrast, a male stripper is always dressed in tan khakis, brown leather shoes, a light brown blazer with dark brown elbow patches, and a red or brown tie.

I should clarify, us male strippers are not necessarily male. Yes, that’s right, male stripping is not just another male-dominated profession. The women who male-strip are known as female male strippers. I hope you’re writing all this down.

Now, those of you who are interested in stripping have probably seen some performers who take their own clothes off. They call themselves “male strippers” when they’re really more like male self-strippers or autostrippers who are male. Be warned: THIS IS NOT MALE STRIPPING. I’m not saying you can’t work as a male stripper and as a male strippee, but I beg of you, do it separately. These new-age male autostripping clowns blatantly disregard the delicate interplay between male stripper and male strippee that makes traditional male male-stripping so special. What they do would be like if a member of a band tried to both play the guitar and strip the guitarist. It’s a fad, and it’s not going to last. The female version of autostripping, however, is hot.

Mother: The baby’s coming! Where’s the doctor?

Nurse: Don’t worry—we’ve got the most awesome midwife in the city: Charles!

Charles, the city’s most awesome midwife, roller-skates into the delivery room, followed by a perfectly racially- and socioeconomically-diverse group of applauding children. He backflips out of his skates and lands in neon Air Jordans, proceeding to engage in choreographed play-fighting with the numerous masked ninjas entering the delivery room through the windows. Defeated, the ninjas unmask themselves, and each one is revealed to be Ronald McDonald. Take On Me by A-ha plays in the background as a grinning Charles directs the Ronald McDonalds to distribute cheeseburgers and free solid-color t-shirts to all the children. Finally, Charles takes his position at the foot of the delivery bed, whips out a giant telephone, and leaves an encouraging voicemail for his buddy, Rodney, who’s been feeling a little down lately. The children fist-bump him one by one, before he hoists each of them in the air to help them fulfill their lifelong dream of dunking a basketball. He then gives an engaging musical presentation on saying no to drugs, before leaping into the air to catch the game-winning touchdown pass, landing in a split.

Nurse: Thank God you’re here, Charles! We’ve got a baby on the way.

Charles: Baby? You know I’m afraid of babies!

Nurse: Agh, so sorry, Charles. Totally forgot. Can I get you anything else ma’am?

Guy: (*ringing doorbell*)

Homeowner: Can I help you?

Guy: Pardon me, sir. Did you just watch Top 10 Funny Cat Moments – November 2021?

Homeowner: Uh, yeah. My friend just showed it to me.

Guy: (*making tally mark on clipboard*) Excellent. Good day!

The Apprentice of the Guy: Sir, I apologize if this is out of line, but may I ask you a question?

Guy: Go ahead, neophyte.

The Apprentice of the Guy: Well, I—I just noticed that that man back there said he and his friend watched the video, but you only made one tally mark. Shouldn’t that count as two views?

Guy: (*smiling knowingly*) No it should not…(*chortling*)…not it should not.

Are you from Tennessee? Because you look like you work at headquarters.