Lyrics by Zach Sherwin: @zachsherwin
Beat by Soce the Elemental Wizard: @soce
Director and editor: Jackson Adams
Director of photography: Alan Gwizdowski
Production designer: Carrie Rudzinski
Producer: Bradford Simpson
Production company: Steel Wool Entertainment
Mixing: Daniel Fox
Sound effects: Ian Brownell
Rude Guy: Matt Knudsen
Bar patrons: Matt Bogdanow, Hayward Cheeseborough III, Matt Clark, Morgan Feldhamer, Kaitlan Hannan, Diana Henenberg, Alex Kojfman, Kevin McCarthy, Raymond Montoya, Samantha Pitchel, Brian Rubinow, Elizabeth "Manders" Thompson, Rolando Tran.
Special thanks: Becca Canote and YouTube Space LA, Myq Kaplan, Taylor Williamson, Cobb's Comedy Club, Jessica Schmidt, and the actual guy who made the joke in the first place.
I did a little gig not long ago, and this dude came up to me after the show, and he said to me, “Hey, you know the only difference between 'rap' and 'crap'? It's the letter C.” I thought, “This guy's wack. That joke's not even a wisecrack; it's a DUMB-crack." But the memory's a pain in my butt, like a thumbtack in my bum-crack, 'cause I didn't have a comeback. Man, I wish I could have hit him with a zinger; should have served him with the verbal equivalent of a middle finger, and now it'll linger forever, but I've been stewing over what I'd say to him if I could do it over.
He'd be like, “You know the only difference between 'rap' and 'crap' is the letter C?” I'd say, “Are you insured medically? 'Cause you sure better be, when you're broken in half from provokin' the wrath. And your joke? Didn't laugh. And actually, there's another difference between 'rap' and 'crap' you did not hit: 'Rap' describes my comedy on stage. 'Crap' describes your comedy off it!"
Aw shit! Oh crap! Everybody within earshot would be like “Oh snap!” I'd high-five all around while the guy falls down in a ball on the ground. Someone hands him a bandage to stop the bleedin', and when he manages to stand, I'd say, “Man you just got - defeated! It's ironic: I shit on your crap joke. You could say I defecated on it!”
Murder, but I'd take it even further. He'd just be weeping pathetically. I'd say, “Hey - you know the only difference between 'defeated,' and 'defecated'? It's the letter C.”
Sudden hush, like when a skydiver pulls a ripcord. Somebody tiptoes forward, hands me a clipboard, and I let dude read it. It's a looseleaf sheet and it says the word “defeated.” I pull out a Sharpie marker; narrow my eyes through my Warby Parkers, like “Watch who you're messin' with, with your effin' ish.” Then I'd write in the C and he's f-in-ished. Finished!
Can you imagine if that's what I said? If I'd come up with THAT off the top of my head? I'd have shredded him, knocked him down dead. But, like I said, that's not what I said. Sigh.