“Part of what makes TikTok work is that it brings a lot of things into your feed, where it’s like—‘I don’t know if you’re going to like this.’ But that’s part of the appeal.”
“The pandemic has really affected the way we experience time. 2020 was this chaotic crazy year. But we were at least doing things for the first time. But now we’re about to loop back around on all of these anniversaries.”
Monkey, monkey, monkey man.
"The man with the mustache told me to do it."
"You could pour soup on my lap and I'll probably apologize to you."
"I was voted 'class clown,' but only because, like a clown, people generally agreed not to invite me to parties."
The deepest observations on parents, discrimination and everything in between.
And that's how you do it.
On dreams, disappointments, and dick pics.
Keith and Kari talk about Obama’s butt touching, Kellyanne Conway’s rise to fame, and some Attorney General shenanigans.
The only way to fix South Asia's dude-dominated stand-up scene is for you to drag your funniest lady friends to an open mic.
"[The professor's] reaction is a perfect vindication of our views about how Indians cannot bear the mention of sex."
I didn’t expect it, but stand-up comedy has given me the freedom to talk about depression and anxiety on my own terms.
A whole new world of #BoyfriendGoals.
I will do anything to be a part of this squad.
On everything from the death penalty to Comedy Nights with Kapil.
One grand old house overlooking the Sunset Strip played host to a generation of comics — including Sam Kinison, Andrew Dice Clay, and Robin Williams — launching dozens of careers and about as many drug problems. The crash pad of a comedy revolution, remembered, kinda, by the people who survived it.
Be my BFF, Amy.
Comics work their whole careers to land their own successful, acclaimed, eponymous Comedy Central sketch show. But after three seasons, and with his show at its creative and commercial peak, Nick Kroll is leaving it all behind for destinations unknown — because he can.