Shootin' the Sh*t With Kevin Smith: The Best of SModcast

SHOOTIN’ THE SH*T WITH

KEVIN SMITH

THE BEST OF SMODCAST

Illustrations by Michael Macari

TITAN BOOKS

SHOOTIN’ THE SH*T WITH KEVIN SMITH

THE BEST OF SMODCAST

ISBN-13 9781848569423

Published by

Titan Books

A division of

Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark St

London

SE1 0UP

First edition September 2009

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Shootin’ the Sh*t With Kevin Smith: The Best of SModcast

copyright © 2009 Kevin Smith. All rights reserved.

Front and back cover photo © Albert Ortega.

Illustrations © 2009 Michael Macari.

The publishers would like to thank SModcast producer

Ken Plume for his invaluable help with this book.

Visit our websites:

www.titanbooks.com

www.quickstopentertainment.com/category/smodcast/

This book contains transcriptions of live conversations, as heard on the podcast SModcast. These conversations are for entertainment purposes only. The views and opinions expressed in this book are not necessarily those of the publisher, and the publisher accepts no responsibility for inaccuracies or omissions, and the publisher specifically disclaims any liability, loss, or risk, whether personal, financial, or otherwise, that is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, from the contents of this book.

Did you enjoy this book? We love to hear from our readers. Please e-mail us at: [email protected] or write to Reader Feedback at the above address.

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Printed and bound in the United States of America

BOOBERTY!

DEDICATION

For Jen — because she lets me candidly share with strangers so much of my life. It doesn’t sound like a big deal ‘til you realize it’s her life as well. I have a very cool wife, is what I’m saying.

SPECIAL THANKS

Ken Plume — SModcast’s own Jam Master Jay, the mix-master general, whose audio presence, sadly, doesn’t translate to print. But aurally? Without him? We sound empty.

Elliot Greenburg — He taught Scott and I how to use the equipment — very important and necessary step in podcasting or any electronic venture.

Ming — Who always makes sure Scott and I are floating somewhere through cyberspace.

CONTENTS

From SModcast 01: Fisting Flipper

How the name SModcast was created

From SModcast 02: A Dubious Superpower

The Alanis Morissette mugging story

From SModcast 04: Can I Get a Witness?

Kevin’s shame at jerking off on a nude Jen’s calf

From SModcast 05: Nipples You Can Hang a Coat On

Kevin and the YMCA

From SModcast 09: Red, White, But Never Blue, eh

Dogs and sex

From SModcast 10: Eating a Chicken’s Soul

Weight loss and population control

From SModcast 10: Eating a Chicken’s Soul

Does a chicken have a soul?

From SModcast 11: A Fistful of Shame

Sundance and Cannes

From SModcast 12: A Fat Kenickie

Kevin’s high school theater experience

From SModcast 13: SFodcast (or SWodcast)

Walt’s flea market story

From SModcast 14: On Guard For Thee

Malcolm’s pinky betting fiasco

From SModcast 15: Pretty-Good Worker

The Helen Keller conversation

From SModcast 19: We Owe It All to Nook-Nook

A Nook-Nook tribute

From SModcast 21: Little Outhouse On the Prairie

Wiping technique

From SModcast 23: Good Vibrations

Malcolm floods the Rumson house

From SModcast 23: Good Vibrations

Kevin sees Chay’s boob and then runs

From SModcast 25: Lynching Vixen

Bryan Johnson trying to pep-talk strippers.

From SModcast 26: Beware the Hobo

Bryan Johnson’s scorpion story

From SModcast 28: Scottacita Wants a Carnita!

Lard conversation

From SModcast 29: Harry Scotter

Bertie Bott’s beans in the ass

From SModcast 30: Smith & Wesson

Tales of Crime and Punishment

From SModcast 31: Loneliness of the Long Distance Mosier

The Jesus list

From SModcast 34: Jersey Justice League

An act of tenderness with Walt

From SModcast 37: In a Row?

Jennifer Connelly remakes Scott Mosier

From SModcast 38: Leeroy Jenkem!

Defending Kevin’s honor

From SModcast 39: Of Berries and Twigs

Scott Mosier discovers the true nature of Alex Mosier

From SModcast 40: Ned Smitty

The Ned Smitty routine

From SModcast 40: Ned Smitty

Kevin finds out he’s foppish

From SModcast 42: SMerry Christmas

Scott is told he will raise the second coming of Christ

From SModcast 45: End of the SMod-fast

How long before a stranded Kevin and Scott would fuck?

From SModcast 46: Mr Deaves Goes to Town

Where’s my shirt?!

From SModcast 50: Gnome Alone

Kevin and Walt discuss what Mewes would do for a comic

From SModcast 52: The (c)Rapture

What if Jesus came back?

From SModcast 53: Meat Curtains

The steak tartare story

From SModcast 54: SModder’s Day

Kevin describes to Harley the concept of a mix tape

From SModcast 56: And Now a Word

Scott’s harrowing highway tale/vs. Make-a-Wish

From SModcast 57: Terrorist Pizza

Gordo, the righteously indignant Canadian

From SModcast 57: Terrorist Pizza

Kevin explores the world while high

From SModcast 59: Frosh Meat

Initiation and night baseball

From SModcast 60: The Clone War

Pillow Babies and Stalin’s ape-man army

From SModcast 60: The Clone War

Cloning debate and Walt’s loneliness

From SModcast 61: Bridge Beach!

The infamous Bridge Beach story

From SModcast 62: The Human Quilt

Confronting the Foreigner dude in the cereal aisle

From SModcast 63: SMod-Kushed

Hitler’s dog engineering program and the Nazi stink

From SModcast 64: Farewell and Adieu

Scott’s shark tale

From SModcast 64: Farewell and Adieu

The brain transplant

From SModcast 65: Captain Kev and Mister Scott

Harley turns to Satan

From SModcast 66: Sleipnir the Conqueror

Origins of Santa Claus and Satan Claus

From SModcast 69: The Talking Cure, Pt. 2

Rate Your Libido or Watch My Dumbass FUCK!!!

From SModcast 69: Talking Cure, Pt. 2

BOOBERTY!

From SModcast 69: Talking Cure, Pt. 2

Hero, question mark?

From SModcast 72: Hello Dere!

Bryan witnesses a very odd fight at the teen club

From SModcast 78: For Today’s Elegant Man

Jaundice and Star Wars

From SModcast 80: RIP

The future dies

INTRODUCTION

Don’t be fooled by my name on the cover. I didn’t write this.

Well, I wrote this — the intro. But the rest of it? I didn’t write it. I didn’t even transcribe it from the original recording.

There is no author, really, and yet, somehow, I’m not a plagiarist. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s simply wanting to talk to Mosier more. That’s the not-so-secret origin of SModcast, the podcast I do (almost) every week with my longtime friend and producer, Scott Mosier: it was born out of a desire to spend time with Mos in a non-work capacity.

I first met the young Scott Mosier way back in 1992 on our first day at the Vancouver Film School. In contemporary parlance, he looked like that kid from Twilight all the ‘tween girls cream over. But back in ‘92? He just looked like Luke Perry.

At first glance, I assumed I wasn’t gonna like him. Look at this fuck, I muttered to myself, mean-mugging Mosier during our class orientation. All leather-jacket-wearing, well-groomed, dual citizenship-carrying cool, who’s probably never had to beg for a handy. I hate him.

Within the first two weeks of school, we were coupled-up for a class exercise that eventually forced us into conversation. I wish I had total recall of the exact words we exchanged (I like to remember it as Ben Kenobi introducing us, à la the Phantom Menace trailer; the trailer, okay? Not the actual movie), but I know where the conversations eventually went: hysterical, interesting, fucked-up places. For the next five months, Mos and I spent lots of time together, bonded by a similar sense of dry humor and, every once in a while, dopey outsiders-dying-to-get-in industry faux-speak (for a short film project, we named our production company Post Party at Spago’s — a joke which wasn’t even that funny then, and certainly shows its age now).

I dropped out of film school midway through the eight-month program, but Scott (and our longtime cinematographer Dave Klein) stuck it out. Months later, they both joined me in New Jersey to shoot a no-budget flick about a guy who works in a convenience store.

From the moment Clerks was picked up by Miramax, Scott and I became inseparable. The mini-major would send me to fifteen or twenty festivals over the next few months and Scott attended every one of them with me. We flew all over the world, showing our flick, Q&A-ing afterwards, building a city-by-city awareness for our theatrical release date in the fall.

Understand if you will that it was an age of magic and wonder: our first film had been picked up by THE premiere art-house distributor of the era, and we were being courted for more work by other studios as well. I had a dream, and Mos helped me forge it into reality. I was longing to be heard — to get my voice out there. And this veritable stranger I’d known less than a year helped make it happen. Do you understand what a gift that is — aiding someone on a vision quest? I loved the man about as much as you can love someone you have no interest in fucking. Scott was my hetero life-mate.

After the January ‘94 to November ‘94 Clerks film festival road show, the flick came out — thus signaling not only the end of our grass roots tour, but the start of our next movie as well: Mallrats. After that, there was Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, etc. And with each flick, we began spending less and less time together outside of work. The majority of our conversations became project related and we afforded ourselves very little time to simply hang and be friends like we used to. I got married in ‘99, he did the same a few years later, and then the time we spent together outside of work pretty much ground to a halt altogether.

And that’s the way it went for a while. Until I had the idea.

I’d often wished I’d taped an interview with my father before he died. Shit, just a recording of his voice, even — so generations from now, our family could possibly hear the gentle inflections of the patriarch. But more than that, I wish I had him telling some stories. I could’ve maybe gotten him to spin some yarn about a time long before I was even a late-night urge in the fall of ‘69 (I was born August, ‘70); just a record of who he really was, y’know?

And that, in turn, got me wondering how many more people I was ever going to lose without putting ‘em on wax, so to speak. I couldn’t shake the idea that all of these characters in my life had millions of unrecorded stories about who they are, as well as the mundane events that shaped them.

So with very little fanfare, I asked Mos if he wanted to start doing a podcast together for one of my websites, quickstopentertainment.com, with the idea being that it’d give us at least an hour a week to hang out and bullshit about anything but our work. Surprisingly, the normally press-and-public shy Scott said yes. Even more surprisingly, he came up with the name; a name I immediately wanted to hug.

SModcast.

And so, on February 1, 2007, Mos and I sat at a poker table in the Los Angeles View Askew office at Sycamore and DeLongpre, in a Chaplin bungalow behind the old United Artists lot, and started talking. And by the night of February 5, 2007, that idea I’d had started to bear fruit.

I never knew Mosier was so funny, the listeners would write. Scott’s fucking quick, man. Or I love the voices Scott does. His characters are hysterical. And every once in a while: Scott’s even funnier than Kevin.

I’d had this idea about how to thank my friend for helping me get my voice out there all those years ago, and the idea was to put his voice out there, so everyone would know what I’ve known for fifteen years: he’s an amazingly interesting and quick-witted guy you’d wanna sit around and bullshit with.

And then, SModcast evolved: when Mos wasn’t available, I brought on other people I’d always found really funny and fascinating who normally never found themselves in front of a microphone. I was simultaneously proudly pulling back the curtain on the folks who made me who I am, and digitally insuring that I’d always have their wonderful stories preserved, in their distinctive voices.

And best of all? It was all free. No money, no problems. And since no commerce was involved, it never became a business. And since no business was involved, it remains an oasis: a place where me and Mos (and others) can shoot the shit. For posterity, as it were.

So am I the author of all the text that follows? God, no. They’re conversations, full of give and take. I didn’t write for these rich individuals; they all speak for themselves.

But technically? Podcasting with pals was my idea. So, yeah — I’m kinda the author of this book.

I just didn’t write it.

Kevin Smith

27 July 2009

Welcome to SModcast

Key:

KS: Kevin Smith

SM: Scott Mosier

WF: Walt Flanagan

BJ: Bryan Johnson

MI: Malcolm Ingram

JS: Jennifer Schwalbach

HS: Harley Smith

From SModcast 01: Fisting Flipper

How the name SModcast was created

KS: Welcome to SModcast, where I, Kevin Smith, and my good friend and producer Scott Mosier, sit around and add to the detritus or the wasteland of podcasts that are out there. We thought about calling it ‘yet another podcast’ but SModcast, which Mosier came up with, was good. Explain that title.

SM: It’s really clever. Your last name is Smith and my last name is Mosier. And I took the first letter off of our last names and then put them together and took the ‘p’ off the podcast.

KS: Wow. I really thought more went into it than that. But you know what, it works. It’s cute. It’s a fun word to say. SModcast.

SM: It rolls off the tongue.

KS: Like Zamboni. It’s just fun to say

SM: Yeah.

From SModcast 02: A Dubious Superpower

The Alanis Morissette mugging story

KS: There was one time me and Alanis Morissette were working on Dogma, and it was one of our days off. It was a Saturday or Sunday. We worked six-day weeks on that movie!

SM: We did.

KS: I guess it was a Sunday. Me and Alanis were just walking around, bullshitting and whatnot, and just got further and further from the hotel, into areas where probably it wasn’t a good idea to be walking around after dark. And in moments like that, my fucking radar goes off. I’m one of those people who just suspects everybody wants to commit a crime if they’re on the streets at night — white, black, Asian... I don’t give a fuck — everybody If you’re on the streets in a downtown area after dark, it isn’t a well-lit area and you’re up side streets and shit — chances are, I feel, you’re up to no good. So we’re walking down one of those fucking streets and I notice this dude across the street. There’s nobody else, dude — fuck, it’s like 28 Days Later, where a man wakes up and he’s walking across the bridge and nobody’s there. It’s fucking empty. Street lights only. And there’s a dude on the other side of the street — shady looking character, ratty-assed clothes, who crosses the fucking street to be on our side of the street. And immediately my fucking Spider-sense starts tingling. I have no fucking superpowers, you know? Spidey starts tingling and he can fucking shoot some web and fucking punch somebody. My Spider-sense starts tingling, and I’m like, I’m going to have to offer to suck this guy’s dick...

SM: That’s your superpower. [Laughs.]

KS: My superpower is like, I’ll suck your dick if you let us go.

SM: You’d have to do it well.

KS: Oh yeah. I’m a master cocksucker, let us live, that kinda thing. So, I see this dude cross the street, and he’s walking directly towards us, making eye contact. We’re on his fucking radar at that point. And she don’t fucking notice, because Alanis is a real up with people kinda person, where everyone is inherently good.

SM: She’s not suspecting.

KS: Oh, she’s so not suspecting. I don’t know how that girl has got so far in life without something horrible happening to her. ‘Cause she just trusts everyone. And also, even if we were to get killed or something, Alanis would be the person sitting there going, Well, it’s probably our fault. Like, she would cognitively reframe the whole thing to be our fault or society’s fault. Never like, This dude’s killing us — it’s his fault. It’s everyone else’s fault. Blame doesn’t go where it belongs ‘cause she just likes people. She trusts them. So the dude is coming at us and Alanis is yammering away, and I’m kinda half in the conversation at that point, because the other half of me is focusing on the dude that’s rapidly getting closer and closer, and the distance between us is shrinking. And I’m just scared shitless, you know? ‘Cause I’m like, What am I going to do? I’m so not the fucking brave dude.

SM: And you’re not that confident about sucking his dick! [Laughs.]

KS: [Laughs.] No. I mean, I can do an able-bodied job, a yeoman-like job, but I think he might still rob us anyway!

SM: You don’t know if you can save your life with your mouth.

KS: No! If I could suck a cock to save my life or her life... Maybe mine, maybe if he’s like, "Alright, that cocksucking was worth you getting a mild whoop ass, but I’m going to kill her. And I’d be like, Why didn’t you ask her to suck your dick? She’s a chick!" Also, he didn’t look like he was in the mood for a cocksucking anyway — he looked like he wanted something from us. You can tell, you get a vibe, man.

SM: Yeah.

KS: That dude had a vibe like he wanted something from us, and we were definitely the focus of his attention. He crossed the fucking street! So I’m like, oh my god. He’s getting closer and closer, and she’s just talking. Finally I’m like, A, do you see this? And she says, What? And I’m trying to talk about the dude without the dude noticing, because he’s getting closer. And she’s like, So? And I said, He crossed the street to be on our side of the street, and she’s like, What? Are you worried? She’s Canadian and there’s no crime in Canada. She’s not on the same page. But literally, I’m almost crying at this point, so she’s sensing that something’s wrong. I’m maybe a couple of inches shy of pissing my pants, because I’m like, What do I do? I’m not strong enough to whoop ass on this dude!

SM: You’re not like Mewes.

KS: Mewes is the kinda guy that if someone started shit with him, Mewes would throw down. There was this dude that came up to Mewes in a bar and said, "Were you in that movie Clerks?" and he was like, Yeah. And the guy punches him in the face. Mewes just turns around, grabs a pool stick and starts beating on the motherfucker. And he’s got some boys there, so they all jump in and start kicking this dude’s ass. But even without his boys, Mewes is, "If you’re going to hit me, I’m going to hit you back really, really hard." I’m so not that guy. If you hit me, I’m going to cry.

SM: [Laughs.] I’m going to cry on your fist.

KS: Exactly. If anything, your fist will slip off my face, based on the fucking Niagara Falls pouring from my eyes. I am such a pussy. And I’m like, I can’t protect myself, let alone me and this fucking girl. And this girl’s got like the biggest album on the fucking planet at that time. And I’m thinking, all the headlines are going to read Alanis Morissette, Friend, Die ‘Cause Pussy Don’t Do Shit.

SM: [Laughs.] Man Covered In Tears And Urine.

KS: [Laughs.] Shit, Urine And Tears: Body Found Beside Her. Heavy-Set Gentleman Did Nothing! So I’m like, We’re dead! I remember saying to her, This is fucked up. We’re going to get hurt right now, I know it. And the dude smokes right up to us, man, and he says Hey. And I said, Hello... And she’s like, [in a chirpy voice] Hi! because she’s that kinda person. And he said... I was wondering if you guys wanted to buy a magazine? You know, I feel like that statement was the opening salvo to me going, Huh?

SM: "I would love to buy a magazine!"

KS: "Which one? Is it Boy’s Life? Is it Highlights For Children?" But was still kinda tight about it. I’m so ashamed to admit it — and I didn’t immediately push Alanis into the dude and run away, but I did separate myself from her. I was in fight or flight mode, and I was going to hope that she was going to run too — but I was a couple of steps away from her, you know? The fucking chivalry thing would have been me putting myself between her and harm’s way. But I’m like, Fuck it, she’s a tough broad, she sings about blowing dudes and beers — I’m fucking running and hoping that she’s smart enough, ‘cause she’s a smart chick, too — to run, maybe in the other direction, rather than us ganging up on the dude, because two against one... and who knew if he had someone in a side alley, or what? So I’m not at ease. But Alanis just goes with it, and she says, Well, what one? The dude reaches into his fucking jacket, and at this point, I’m like, Here it comes, it’s a knife, it’s a gun, I don’t know what it is, it’s a rusty fucking razor. It’s something bad. And the dude literally pulls out three magazines. And it’s three magazines that he probably lifted off a newsstand, because it was Good Housekeeping and fucking Womenswear Daily or something. We gave the dude five bucks, he gave us the magazines, and that was the end of it. And I could tell that if I had had any shot of getting together with Alanis Morissette, because this was prior to me getting together with Jen, really — if I had any shot with her, it probably went out the window that day.

SM: It collapsed right there.

KS: Because I think she might have sensed, You were totally about to let me get attacked!

SM: You were about to run from Good Housekeeping magazine. [Laughs.]

KS: Totally! It was horrifying!

From SModcast 04: Can I Get a Witness?

Kevin’s shame at jerking off on a nude Jen’s calf

KS: I was struck by the notion this weekend that no matter how much I’ve been able to accomplish with my career professionally, that personally it doesn’t fucking amount to a hill of beans. Some people assume that because you make movies and shit you’re on easy street, life is great, and it’s not. I still have trouble getting laid, that kinda thing. I got done with my Q&A at the New York Comic-Con and I was gonna head down to Jersey to play some poker, and Jen was staying in the city to go out. So I get back to the hotel room and she’s in the shower, it’s one of those glass doors. And suddenly I was like, I’m going to get laid, she looks good to me right now. Normally she does all the time, she’s naked.

SM: Wet, soapy?

KS: Totally. Well not soapy. It’s not like I want to get soap in my cock or something like that, because that burns. But I was totally like, I want to try and get one off before I get on the road and shit. Because there’s still a part of me that’s like, you’re married and whatnot and you love who you’re with, but there’re still always that male part of you that’s like, I would like to fuck and then move on pretty quickly, rather than lay around and cuddle and chitchat and bullshit. Sometimes you just want to fucking snap one out and then fucking go on with your day in a real caveman kinda way. Not where you want to drag her by the hair—

SM: The quest for fuck.

KS: But I don’t want to make love. There’s no quest for fuck. I just want to fucking shoot one and go. So she was getting ready for her shindig, to go out, so she’s like, I don’t have the time. I threw it out there and I’m not subtle about it and shit like that, I’m like, You want to bone? Not really the way into a woman’s panties.

SM: No.

KS: Even if you’re married to her. They do still like to be romanced a bit. But I knew the clock was against me on this one. And she was like, No. I got to get ready. Later on, maybe tomorrow when we come back and you pick me up then we can totally do it because I want to do it, but I have no time. And I’m so not the force-the-issue kinda guy so I wasn’t like, No, we’re doing it. But I was still disappointed and I was still ready to go because she looked good and shit. So she’s getting ready, and does this ever happen to you, it’s such an embarrassing, desperate sexual act, where you’re like, I’ll just jerk off and you watch? Have you ever been that guy who’s done that?

SM: Nah, I haven’t quite done that.

KS: I’ve done that many times in my life, where it’s like I just wanna...

SM: You wanna be interactive...

KS: I want to cum so badly and yet you want to be interactive, you don’t want to fly solo and shit, and jerk off into a fucking sock, but you want someone to be involved.

SM: It’s kinda sexy.

KS: It’s kinda sexy a little bit.

SM: For you to cum and her to be in the room.

KS: It’s dirty enough and you’re there but it is so stupid to be like, I’m going to jerk off and you can watch. If the roles were reversed and she’s like, I’m going to rub one out and I want you to watch, I’d be like, Argh, I guess.

SM: Is this leading to something?

KS: Exactly, there’s always the whole thing of, if you’re rubbing one out will I eventually get to fuck you?

SM: And she’s like, No.

KS: Yeah, that would be the kinda thing. But for me if I was like, of course in the back of your mind you’re always like, While I’m jerking off she can get turned on and then want to fuck. But not when she’s getting ready, she’s not thinking about that. So we’re in the bathroom and I throw that out there and she goes, Well, I don’t really have the time. So I said, What if you just took off your robe? Because she’s getting all prepared in the mirror, wearing this robe, What if you just took off your robe and I jerked off here in the bathroom looking at you? And she’s like, If you want, go ahead. She’s putting on her make-up. So fucking sad, the more I think about it, but I was so desperate to fucking get it off. So she drops her robe and is naked, I’m in the bathroom still trying to figure out whether I’m going to commit to this kinda thing, because we’ve been married for close to eight years, but at the same time that could be the thing where she’s like, Look, I always thought you were a loser and had good intentions but come on dude, you’re going to fucking tug one out and crack one on my fucking leg while I’m getting ready in the bathroom mirror? That’s just insane. Have a little self-respect. But I didn’t have any, so I fucking—

SM: You did it?

KS: I totally did it dude. I dropped down to my knees and I’m behind her and she’s literally not really paying that much attention to me, putting on her make-up, doing her mascara and shit like that. I get down on my knees, I drop my fucking drawers, I start tugging one out just staring at her asshole and the back of her pussy, you know, that back view. And in order to do that you’ve got to spread the cheeks a little bit, but I only jerk off one hand so it doesn’t matter. But at the same time I’m spreading her cheeks and pushing her a little bit, and she’s like, I’m putting on my mascara, don’t forget. I’m like, Alright. So it’s real clinical, not very sexy, but it was kinda weird and hot at the same time, and like a sick fucking degenerate mutt I’m just on my knees staring at her asshole and the back of her pussy from behind jerking off, tug one out all the way to fruition. I don’t think I’d gotten laid for like two days or something so I had a nice pent up fucking ‘pchoom!’ kinda load that hit her leg, and I fucking feel bad for anyone that uses that bathroom after us at that hotel room, because it went right on the rug too. And then afterwards I just felt like such a scumbag. I can’t believe I couldn’t just wait and I succumbed to the filthy fucking urges, desperate sickening urges to just let me jerk off while I’m here. It was kinda hot though. It would be like if you could jerk off in a strip club, because you’re getting to look but you’re not allowed to touch, because she wasn’t going to fuck and I was hoping that she’d get turned on enough to be like, Oh, fuck it, let’s do it.

SM: But she didn’t.

KS: So I was left to my own devices and had to take matters in hand. But it was so sad really in some weird way. But she was nice about it, she didn’t make me feel sad about it, she said, That was kinda sexy. But I think she might have just been saying that so I didn’t take that drive down to Jersey going, "What happened to me? I really let myself go in every way, I have no self-respect whatsoever, I can’t stop fucking eating and I’ve fallen to jerking off on my wife’s fucking calf." It’s weird the depths you’ll plumb, human sexuality, just to fucking get one off or whatnot.

SM: When it gets in your head and you’ve got to get it out.

KS: Yeah, and granted it’s kinda tame in comparison to how some fucking filthy animals conduct themselves. And serial killers, some of them kill because it pleases some sort of sexual urge, and it’s not even predicated on a sexual act, but for some reason they can’t get off unless there’s death involved. So I’m not there yet.

From SModcast 05: Nipples You Can Hang a Coat On

Kevin and the YMCA

KS: My first and only gay experience was at a YMCA. And when I say gay experience, I don’t mean I wound up sucking cock — I wound up getting my cock sucked. Nah, I didn’t wind up doing anything, but I joined the YMCA for CAM 2 [weight training based on air pressure resistance], I was like, that sounds awesome. It made it sound easier for some reason, because you don’t have to lift weights. It’s air! Air doesn’t weigh that much — I’ll be in shape in no time! So I joined this higher level, because you can join on the standard level — they had a pool, there was a basketball court, they had an indoor running track, and that was over the basketball court.

SM: Mine had that.

Random SModquotes

I was starting to get interested in women. Naked women... That weren’t my Mother!

KS: The indoor track? I remember that, that was kinda cool, man. You could jog inside. But if you went up a level it got you into CAM 2, and it had nicer locker rooms and they had a steam room and a sauna and a Jacuzzi and shit like that. I was eighteen, maybe nineteen, and I had a little extra scratch, so I went and joined, and I was in one of those phases where, I’m going to get into shape. It’s a phase I fucking pass into at least once a year every year of my fucking life. And so I joined the YMCA and went to do the CAM 2 and shit like that, and I was like, I’m going to use the fucking Jacuzzi, I’ve never had much hot tub experience. We didn’t have one in our house, and we didn’t know anyone with a hot tub, so I thought, fuck it. So I went in, and the locker rooms made me uncomfortable to begin with, because dudes feel free to walk around...

SM: It’s a fucking sausage party.

KS: Oh my god, it was a total sausage party — there were dicks everywhere.

SM: There’s wieners and there’s hair...

KS: Totally. And I’m not comfortable letting my dick out there in the world, even before I had something of a profile where people would go, Hey! Silent Bob’s got a little dick! I just didn’t want anyone going, Hey! That random fat dude’s got a little dick! So I went into the Jacuzzi wearing a bathing suit. I did a little work out and I was sitting in the Jacuzzi relaxing and whatnot, and it’s a hot tub, so it blows bubbles and shit. And this other motherfucker, who did not have a bathing suit on, gets in the hot tub. And I didn’t think much of it. I was a little like, Dude, put on a pair of trunks, would you? But whatever, that’s what they do in a locker room. The hot tub’s not very big, and he doesn’t sit across from me, which I thought, Well, maybe he doesn’t want to because then we have no choice but to lock eyes, and fucking fall in love and fall like lovers into the tidal pool! So he sits kinda near me, which I’m cognitively reframing in my head as him not wanting to stare directly at me. They had little seats built in within the tub itself.

SM: Was it round or square?

KS: It was roundish and squarish. Maybe octagonal would be the best description. So the dude sits next to me, and I didn’t think much of it beyond, You don’t want to stare at me. Maybe a minute later... hand on my fucking leg! And, you know, you have to react in a split second with shit like that. The first thing that went through my head was Oh, this dude hit me with his fucking foot, but it wasn’t a foot, it was a sustained grip on my leg. It wasn’t an accident. Clearly this dude made a fucking move. The whole thing lasted about three seconds before I was able to put it together and react, but I got the distinct impression that it was a pass. Only a retarded person wouldn’t understand that it was a pass! Dude had his hand on my fucking leg! And it didn’t do a slide straight to my dick or anything like that, but it was firmly on my upper thigh. And I was up like a shot and out of the fucking hot tub!

SM: Did you look back at all?

KS: In regret, you mean? Or like, Hey, let’s go to dinner, let’s move a little slower?

SM: Did you look at him?

KS: Well, I got a bead on him when he got in the tub, so I knew what he looked like. I could still kinda picture him in my head. He was a skinny dude, had an afro but for a white dude — some people call it a jewfro, that kinda thing... I got a bead on him, what he looked like, but he didn’t occur to me as gay.

SM: But I mean, there’s the moment — he puts his hand on your leg, you take three seconds to be like, Hand on my leg, this isn’t an accident. This guy is making a gay pass at me, I’m not necessarily interested in that, so you get out. But from the moment that the hand hit your leg, did you look at him? Say anything?

KS: No, I didn’t make eye contact. And I know there are people — like Mewes would fucking hit somebody if they did that to him. Or somebody would say, What the fuck? Mine was just...

SM: You should have done Invasion of the Body Snatchers!

KS: [Laughs] Yeah, like with an open gaping maw, and pointing and shit! I just got up — I remember I got up like a shot, and it was kinda embarrassing, because you’re in the middle of a wet slippery tub, so I then tumbled down onto my knees into the water and got up and tried to keep my cool and got out, but didn’t say anything. I mean, now if that happened in my life I might be like, Oh dude, I’m just tubbing.

SM: Not even angry, just, Hey, I’m just here for the water.

KS: Exactly, I’m just lying here for the cum...

SM: And then he’s like, Well, then do you mind if I just jerk off...

KS: Yeah, and I’m like, Uh... sure, I guess, I mean — nobody’s around... Feel free. I mean, if you think I’m sexy, yeah... It’s weird, because in the moment I was not flattered by it at all. Now in life, I might be a bit more flattered by the whole thing. I might think, Maybe he’s a fan. A very touchy fan, who wants to fuck. But then it was just weird and awkward, and I remember going down to the desk. I immediately got my fucking gear on. I put my clothes on over my bathing suit because I was like, I don’t want to hang out in this locker room because I don’t want