Dave Chappelle
Alphabet People
But, you see, what I didn’t realize at the time and what Kevin had to learn the hard way is we were breaking an unwritten and unspoken rule of show business. And if I say it, you’ll know that I’m telling you the truth. The rule is that no matter what you do in your artistic expression, you are never, ever, allowed to upset… the alphabet people. You know who I mean. Those people that took 20% of the alphabet for themselves. I’d say thе letters, but I don’t want to conjure thеir anger. Ah, it’s too late now. I’m talking about them L’s and them B’s and them G’s and the T’s.

People would be surprised. I have friends of all kinds of letters. Everybody loves me and I love everybody. I got friends who are L’s. I got friends who are B’s. And I got friends who are G’s. But the T’s hate my fuckin’ guts. And I don’t blame ’em. It’s not their fault. It’s mine. I can’t stop telling jokes about these n i g g a s. I don’t want to write these jokes, but I just can’t stop!

You know, you hear all those letters together all the time. “LBGT, LBGT,” and you think it’s just one big movement. It’s not. All those letters are their own movement. They just travel in the same car together. And… my guess is…

Oh! What is this, high school? This n i g g a probably got a babysitter or something. Go and answer your phone, n i g g a. Get that shit out of here. I’m… I’m in the middle of something important. Wouldn’t it be funny if we made fun of him and he’s like, “Ha, ha,” and he went outside like, “Hello?” “Mama’s dead.” “Oh, no!” “Mama’s dead.” That was a weird-timed phone call, wasn’t it? It’s like his phone is gay.

Like I was saying… my guess is… the G’s are driving that car. That makes sense to me. ‘Cause there’s white men in the G’s. And these people are trying to get around, uh, discrimination and oppression, and you know how white dudes are. “We know these roads. In fact, we built these roads. “The rest of you, buckle up. We’ll get you to where you want to go.”

So the G’s are just driving the car. Of course, next to the G’s in the passenger seat… is the L’s. Everybody likes the L’s, except for the G’s. I don’t know what that’s about. I just know the G’s don’t like them that much. The G’s always say, like, little subliminal digs on ’em. It’s unnecessary shit. It’s not mean, but you know what I mean? They just be like… “I wouldn’t wear that.”

And the only thing that breaks the tension between the L’s and the G’s are the B’s in the backseat. That’s right. There you go. Everybody scream out when you hear your letter. If there’s one thing that the L’s and the G’s agree on, is it’s that the B’s are fuckin’ gross. They seem greedy to the L’s and the G’s. You know what I mean? ‘Cause they’re just sittin’ in the back seat like, “Yeah, man, I’ll fuck anybody in this car. What’s going on, man?”

And sitting next to the B’s, all the way in the backseat by themselves looking out the window… that’s the T’s. Everybody in the car respects the T’s, but everyone also… resents the T’s. It’s not the T’s’ fault, but everyone in the car just feels like the T’s are making the trip take longer. Anything the T’s say gets on everybody’s nerves. And then, the T’s don’t even say anything bad. They just be in the back talking to themselves. “Hm… “I’m hot.” “Shut up. Shut the fuck up, okay? You should roll the window down, you… Bitch, I don’t know what you…” “What? I just said I was hot. Can you pull over at the next exit? I need to use the restroom.” “There is not a restroom for you for four states, n i g g a! Will you just shut the fuck up so we can get where we’re going?”

And just when that car can’t get any more tense, the Q’s are a hitchhiker that they pick up on the road. Some white dude in booty shorts just walking in the freeway. The G’s see him. “Hm, that guy might be one of us. Hey, are you okay? You need some help?” And he come over there with them booty shorts, leaning on the window. “Hey, what’s going on, fellas?” Lady. Whatever pronoun makes you feel comfortable in the back. Yeah. I don’t really know where I’m going. I don’t know if I’m gay or I’m straight or whatever. All I know for sure is that, um… I really want to get in this car.” And they make him get in and sit between the B’s and the T’s.