I Had the Right to Remain Silent...But I Didn't Have the Ability Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 - INTRODUCTION

  Chapter 2 - ONSTAGE: SET 1

  Chapter 3 - BACKSTAGE: HOW I BECAME A COMEDIAN

  Chapter 4 - ONSTAGE: SET 2

  Chapter 5 - BACKSTAGE: BANNED ON THE ROAD

  Chapter 6 - ONSTAGE: SET 3

  Chapter 7 - BACKSTAGE: THE ADVENTURES OF SEÑOR WHITE

  Chapter 8 - ONSTAGE: SET 4

  Chapter 9 - BACKSTAGE: ON THE ROAD AGAIN

  Acknowledgements

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The legend of “Tater” begins. . . .

  I got thrown out of a bar in New York City. Now, when I say I got thrown out of a bar, I don’t mean somebody asked me to leave, we walked to the door together, and I said “Bye, everybody, I gotta go.” Six bouncers hurled me out of the nightclub like I was a Frisbee. They hurled my ass. And then they squared off with me in the parking lot.

  I backed down from the fight, ’cause I don’t know how many of them it would have taken to whip my ass. But I knew how many they were gonna use. That’s a handy piece of information to have right there.

  Well, they called the police, ’cause we broke a chair on the way out the door, and I refused to pay for it. I refused to pay for it because “we” broke it over “my” thigh.

  The cops showed up, and at that point, I had the right to remain silent . . . but I didn’t have the ability. . . .

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  Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a Dutton edition

  First New American Library Printing, May 2007

  Copyright © Ron White, 2006

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  eISBN : 978-1-101-04103-1

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  White Ron, 1956-

  I had the right to remain silent . . . but I didn’t have the ability / by Ron White.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-04103-1

  1. White, Ron, 1956- 2. Comedians—United States—Biography. I. Title.

  PN2287.W45823A3 2006

  792.702’8092—dc22 2006009056

  Set in Oranda

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  To my wife, Barbara, and my son, Marshall

  1

  INTRODUCTION

  I’ve put out a CD, Drunk in Public; a DVD, They Call Me “Tater Salad”; and most recently a CD and DVD, You Can’t Fix Stupid. But people have also been asking me to do a book. So here it is. Along with comedy I do onstage, it features some stories of my life as a comedian on, and off, the road.

  If you want to give me some feedback on the book, you can e-mail me through my Web site, www.tatersalad.com. I’d love to hear from you.

  Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy it.

  2

  ONSTAGE: SET 1

  I’m going to start off by asking a question, ’cause I don’t know the answer. I lost my sunglasses, and I went to the Sunglass Hut. Here’s the question: Why does a pair of sunglasses cost more than a 25-inch color television set? Anybody know?

  I go to the Sunglass Hut. I see a pair of glasses I like. I don’t love ’em. I like ’em. 309 bucks. And I asked the guy very politely, “How do you sleep at night, you fuckin’ prick?”

  And I told him, and this is true, that two weeks ago I bought a 25-inch color television set from Wal-Mart for 218 bucks.

  And he goes, “Well apparently, sir, you don’t get it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He goes, “These glasses eliminate one hundred percent of all UV rays.”

  I’m like, “No, apparently you don’t get it. This thing decodes a digital satellite signal it picks up from outer fucking space.”

  And then it turned out the glasses got basic cable, and I felt like a dickhead.

  You ever take a crap so big, your pants fit better? I’m hoping that happens to me soon. I’m hoping I’m one big turd away from backing into an old wardrobe.

  One day I was sitting in a beanbag chair naked, eating Cheetos, and I was flipping through the television, and I saw Robert Tilton, he’s a televangelist from Dallas. And he was staring at me.

  And he said this. He said, “Are you lonely?”

  Yeah.

  He said, “Have you wasted half your life in bars, pursuing sins of the flesh?”

  This guy’s good.

  He said, “Are you sitting in a beanbag chair naked, eating Cheetos?”

  Yes, sir.

  He said, “Do you feel the urge to get up and send me a thousand dollars?”

  Close.

  I thought he was talking about me there for a second. Apparently I ain’t the only cat on the block who digs Cheetos.

  I was performing at the State Theatre in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and these guys took me to a blues festival they have near there. And I love the blues, but they need to figure out some problems with the festival. I don’t like to party anywhere where you can’t just give somebody money and they give you back a beer, you know what I mean?

  I stood in line for an hour. My mouth is dry. I want a beer. I love beer. I know they’re selling beer. People are walking away from the front of the line, and they’ve got beer. That’s how I figured the w
hole thing out. I get up there. I give the guy my money.

  He goes, “We don’t take money here.”

  “What do you take?”

  “Coupins.”

  “What?”

  “Coupins.”

  “Where do I get a coupin?”

  “See that line over there?”

  It takes forever. I stood in that line for an hour. I gotta show them my driver’s license, birth certificate, fill out a form. They mail that away. Send me back some coupins.

  “What are you doing, Ron?”

  “I’m waiting on UPS. There’s a good chance I’ll have a beer by Thursday. I’m partying like a Kennedy right now.”

  I was game, too. I had 100 bucks cash on me, I bought 100 bucks worth of coupins.

  And then some of the guys that took me there asked me if I wanted to go to a topless club. And I didn’t, really, want to go . . .

  I just ended up going, ’cause—you guys back me up on this—you’ve seen one woman naked . . . you want to see the rest of them naked. It can be an old biker chick you know they’re going to hang down to here.

  “You want to see my titties?”

  “Yeah, I do . . . All right, that’s enough. Roll them back up, sweetheart.”

  And then closing time came around and the tabs came out, and I found out the titty bar don’t accept them coupins.

  The guy at Taco Bell told me to kiss his ass.

  “I’ll give you forty dollars’ worth of coupins for a burrito with cheese. It’s all I’ve got. It’s a coupin.”

  I saw something that comes close to truth in advertising. The De Beers people are almost saying what they really mean. Because the old De Beers slogan was, “Diamonds are forever.” Then they changed it to, “This year, take her breath away.” The new slogan is, “Diamonds, render her speechless.”

  Why don’t they just go ahead and say it? “Diamonds: That’ll shut her up. For a minute.”

  I did a show one night in Cincinnati, and I came offstage and I was looking for something to eat. And across the street from the club is a place called Skyline Chili. Next door to that’s a place called Gold Star Chili, across from that is Liberty Chili, Ray’s Chili, Joe’s Chili, Bob’s Chili, chili everywhere.

  Now, I wasn’t trying to start any shit with the little chili boy. I was making late-night conversation, and I said to this guy, “You know, it seems like there’s a whole lot of chili places here. You wouldn’t think there would be, would you?”

  And he goes, “I’ll have you know the Cincinnati area is the chili capital of the woild.”

  Oh, excuse me for thinking it might be Mexico City or Guadala Goddamn Jara. I don’t even think you all told the Mexican boys you were having a contest.

  That’s right. ’Cause a Mexican boy’d come up here with a goat and an onion and kick your ass. He wouldn’t even need a car; he could ride the goat up there.

  Of course, he’d need a lift home. Can’t ride home on a bowl ’a goat. I’ve always said that.

  I was in Miami when Hurricane Georges hit the Keys a couple years ago. I just thought this was funny. They evacuated the Keys and everybody left except for one guy.

  I’ve been through two hurricanes. I was in Hurricane Carla when I was a kid in Houston. And I was real excited during hurricane time, you know, ’cause I’m out there in the Gulf and it’s dangerous. And I’m like, “This is cool.”

  Till shit started hitting our house. And I was like, “Fuck this.”

  But anyway they evacuate the Keys and everybody leaves except for one guy, who was gonna stay there and tie himself to a tree on the beach to prove a point.

  And the point was, he said, that at fifty-three years of age he was in good enough physical condition to withstand the wind and the rain from a force-three hurricane.

  All right. Let me explain something to you. It isn’t that the wind is blowing, it’s what the wind is blowing.

  If you get hit with a Volvo, it doesn’t really matter how many sit-ups you did that morning. If you have a yield sign in your spleen, joggin’ don’t come into play.

  “I can run twenty-five miles without stopping.”

  “You’re bleedin’.”

  “Shit.”

  That same time in Florida, somebody broke into my truck and stole my radio, thank you, whoever you were.

  I got to drive back to Texas listening to the sound of wind for forty-nine hours.

  I went to the insurance company. I was filling out these forms. And I got to the part on the form where it says what kind of radio it was. And I told the guy I didn’t remember.

  And he said, “Mr. White, if you can remember what kind of radio it was, we’ll know how much money we can give you.”

  That’s some good news right there. I thought of a real expensive-sounding brand, and I wrote it down. And he knew I was lying.

  “Mr. White, I don’t believe Rolex makes a radio.”

  “It was a clock radio. Write the check, Premium Boy.”

  They love it when you call them Premium Boy. Next time you see your insurance agent, call him Premium Boy. You’ll get a chuckle.

  I almost died last year. Actually I didn’t almost die, I didn’t even get hurt.

  I was in a near-miss plane crash. And I was flying from Flagstaff, Arizona, to Phoenix, Arizona, because my manager doesn’t own a globe.

  I was on a plane yay big—like a pack of gum with eight people in it—and the engine going rrrrrr, like a playing card on a kid’s bike.

  We took off from the Flagstaff Airport Hair Care and Tire Center there. We’re traveling at half the speed of smell. We got passed by a kite. There was a goose behind us, and the pilot was screaming, “Go around!”

  We get halfway to Phoenix, we got to go back. It’s a nine-minute flight; can’t pull it off with this equipment.

  We had engine trouble. We lost some oil pressure in one of the engines and they told us about it over the speaker system of the plane, which was stupid. . . . They could have just leaned back and mumbled, “Hey, we lost some oil pressure.”

  “Heard ya. Sure did.”

  It was weird. Everybody on the plane was nervous, but I’d been drinking since lunch and I was like, “Take it down, I don’t care.”

  You ever have one of those days? “Hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this piece of shit.”

  The guy sitting next to me is losing his mind. Apparently, he had a lot to live for. He goes, “Hey, man, huh, huh, hey man, huh, huh, if one of these engines fails, huh, huh, how far will the other one take us?”

  “All the way to the scene of the crash, which is pretty handy, ’cause that’s where we’re headed. I bet we beat the paramedics there by a half hour. We’re hauling ass.”

  As a stand-up comedian, I’ve got a really good job. I like my job.

  It’s important to have a good vocabulary in my job. And actually I haven’t always had one. When I was younger, if I’d known the difference between antidote and anecdote, my friend Bob Schneider would still be alive today.

  He got bit by a copperhead; I’m reading him humorous stories out of Reader’s Digest.

  His head’s starting to swell. I’m like, “It ain’t working.”

  He goes, “Read faster.”

  I’ll tell ya a little bit about myself. I’m from Texas. I’m a cowboy, a real cowboy. I was a bronc rider for six years of my life, and it’s affected me.

  Now when I have sex, I have to throw out my arm for balance. Seems to be some dispute between the wife and me, whether or not I’m staying on that full eight seconds.

  So we got the timer and buzzer, and set it up right there in the bedroom. I taught her the meaning of the phrase “most of the time.”

  Would’ve been “all the time,” but she won’t let me tie that rope around her waist anymore. She hates it when I spur her out of the chute.

  Hey, you laugh, it’s not easy to keep an erection with a clown in a barrel in the corner of the room.

  You gotta stay focu
sed.

  I’m probably not a typical Texan in that I don’t hunt. I fish, but I don’t hunt. And not because I think it might somehow be more holy to eat meat that’s been bludgeoned to death by somebody else, that’s not it. It’s really early in the morning, it’s really cold outside, and I don’t want to fuckin’ go.

  My cousin Ray on the other hand thinks killing a deer with a deer rifle is magic in the forest. Here’s Ray after the big kill:

  “Hell, it was four in the morning, twenty-two degrees outside.

  “ ’Course, you weren’t there . . . pussy. I’m in a camouflaged deer blind with greasepaint on my face. I’ve got deer urine on my boots—I’m not sure why.”

  I made that last part up.

  “I got a thirty-ought-six with a twelve-power scope and a bullet that’ll travel twenty-two hundred feet per second. When that deer looked up and licked the salt sucker I’d hung from the danged oak tree, I caught him right above the eye.”

  Yeah, well I hit one with a van going 55 miles an hour with the headlights on and the horn blowing. Whoo, that’s an elusive little creature.

  If you ever miss one, it’s ’cause the bullet’s moving too fast. Slow the bullet down to 55 miles an hour and put some headlights and a little horn on it. The deer will actually jump in front of the bullet.

  I got happily married to a rich woman. If you ever have a choice, go ahead.

  Actually, that’s a lie. She’s not rich at all.