by Bernie Mac
I just go on. I don’t never get paid back. I got so much money out there, I could get me three houses. Straight up. And each one of them would be over $200,000. Personal loans, saving homes, people sayin’ they going to school—and then don’t go. I done helped out with all kinds of shit.
And if you do ever pay me back, knowing me, you put the money in my hand and I’ll probably turn around and say, “You keep it.”
I just want to see you know the principle. I don’t want your money. I just want you to do what you say you gon’ do. I ain’t no loan officer.
If it ain’t problems over the money, it’s problems over a sum’bitch bein’ jealous. Now like I said before, I ain’t really a jealous guy. I don’t get mad at other people for what they got.
But it’s a whole bunch of jealous sum’bitches out there. I see ’em. They got what I call the “combo look.” That’s when you jealous as hell, but you try to smile like you ain’t jealous. But a frown mean you jealous than a muthafucka. A muthafucka smile and frown at you, he jealous. With that combo look? That muh’fucka jealous.
Them combo looks a muh’fucka, boy. I even seen those combo looks on award shows. You can tell that muthafucka don’t like that muthfucka who won. The announcer will be like, “And the winner is Denzel Washington.”
You see them on the shows, clapping and trying to keep that fake smile on. Clappin’, frownin’, and smilin’ at the same damn time. He mad than a muh’fucka.
I get niggas comin’ up to me with that same bullshit. Wearin’ that combo look, but be trying to act like everything cool: “Saw you on the news, Bernie man! Heh-heh. Go on and get your fo’ million! Go on get your money, man . . . heh-heh . . . I ain’t mad at ya!”
Sheeiiittt. He mad as hell. Bend your ass over, that muthafucka’ll put a hammer to your head.
When you’re successful, women got a way of gettin’ yo’ ass. They’ll tell on you when you successful. They see you on TV or something, they gotta tell.
WOMAN 1: Girl, Bernie Mac, I used to suck his dick. Girl, I sucked his dick right over there behind that McDonald’s. Yeah, we went to the beach and everything, got us some fish sandwiches and everything.
WOMAN 2: Giiirrrl! What made you do it?
WOMAN 1: I just started sucking it, girl. I just had the motive to suck it. I sucked the shit out of him. He damn near passed out.
Now, if I’m a bum or something and she gave me some, and they see me on the corner and I’m scratching, all that kind of shit . . .
WOMAN 2: There go Bernie Mac. Didn’t you used to fuck him?
WOMAN 1: Naw! Naw! Naw! Now, he asked me for some, but I ain’t never really . . . Naw, I ain’t never . . . Unh-unh.
WOMAN 2: You a lie! You did fuck him! You did!
WOMAN 1: Naw! Now we was kissing. We did kiss. He caught me off guard; I kissed him back. But he looked better than he do now. He looked much better than he do now.
But naw, I ain’t give him none. I almost gave him some behind the McDonald’s. But the manager came to the window, and we broke it up. I’m glad we did. But I didn’t give him none.
WOMAN 2: He said you sucked his dick.
WOMAN 1: He a gotdamn lie! I ain’t never . . . Unh-unh . . . Now, I looked at it. But I ain’t sucked it. Don’t be lying on me!
I’m telling you man, people are funny.
As a comedian, there are certain subjects I stay away from. Like politics. I’m not into politics. I’m not a politician. Everybody don’t have a view. Some people just want to get up in the morning and live their lives with their families and mind their damn business. Everbody ain’t in on current events, you know what I’m saying? But people always try to make you: “What do you think about foreign policy?”
I don’t think a got -damn thing about foreign policy. My life is foreign as it is.
What you see is what you get. And I tell it like it is each and every day. I walk in rooms by myself. I ain’t got no posse. I don’t need a bodyguard. I ain’t runnin’ for Congress. Man, I’m a comedian.
What the fuck I need a posse for? Who the fuck wanna assassinate a comedian? That’s like fuckin’ wit’ Bozo.
Next thing you know, it was a black thing. You had to have a posse.
I’m the odd man out because I don’t fall into what is now a tradition of having 20 sum’bitches with you. I’m not that insecure. I don’t live like that. I don’t like a lot of people around me because it’s trouble. Your problem become my problem. Just because I’m a billionaire, don’t mean I want to buy drinks everytime I see you. I don’t give a fuck if I got a $100 million, I don’t want to buy dinner every night. Gimme a apple. Buy me a Falstaff. Gimme a thank-you card.
Bernie Mac and friends...
Bodyguards, groupies—see, all that’s bullshit. I don’t pay groupies no attention. My mentality ain’t there. I see ’em, but I don’t see ’em. Titties out. Booty out. You want me to come home to that? Fake mole on ya lip and shit. Hairdo this goddamn high. Tattoos every doggone where.
You ain’t wearing no draws—how I’m gon’ call you my broad? I don’t like women who are the same. I ain’t gon’ call ’em a hoochie, but you’re the same. You come a dime a dozen.
I see it everyday. Look on Soul Train. It’s on the videos. Lookin’ like a basketball player, tattoos all up on her arm. You look nasty. You look like you stank!
I always been a people person, and I’ve always had love for my fans. My fans made me, and I know it.
But some fans I just can’t mess with.
Like yesterday, right? I was in my ride on my way home, and I noticed that the whole way there was this car following me. I was gettin’ off the expressway at my stop and, all of a sudden, this car gon’ swerve all the way over onto the shoulder.
I’m lookin’ through my rearview mirror. Scared an’ shit, right?
Then they pulled up on the side of me: “Hey, Bernie Mac, hey! Hey! Yeah, man, hahahahaaaaa, I love yo’ shit, nigga.”
I sped the fuck up.
These sum’bitches followed me. They were like, “Roll the window down, muh’fucka! Hahahahaah! Roll the window down!”
Man, I pulled off.
I know they talked about me like a dog. But I ain’t give a fuck.
I love my fans, but I ain’t givin’ in to no foolishness. I love me some fans.
I don’t think about them, though. You’re cheating yourself. It’s not those who get there first. It’s those who get there and stay there the longest. I’ve got the patience of Job. I’ve been waiting a long time. I ain’t been the first to do a damn thing. I know I’m going to be standing. Get off. Go ahead. I can write. I can think. I believe. I got faith. That’s something a lot of them cats don’t have. They want it quick. Put ’em in, bam, pop up. “I want what you got.” One part is cold, one part is hot. The middle is lukewarm. Bake me! Take your time. Put me on 350, check me every now and then, make sure I pop up and bam! I’m Doug E. Fresh. I got the patience of Job.
I see other comics. I watch ’em. I hear ’em. I don’t listen to the voices: Ooo, he funny! I just say okay. I ain’t got nothing negative to say about nobody. I can’t gain nothing beating you down to build myself up. I don’t deal with toxic waste. I can show you better than I can tell you. Might take a little time, but it’s gotta be seasoned.
I just look at it like I’m in training, man. So when the time comes for me, I’m ready. I’m ready. I’ve been in the gym. You can’t stop me. I got the head weights on. I ain’t soft. You can’t get in here. I don’t hear the voices. If I had listened to them, I’d never be where I am right now. That’s their job to discourage me. That’s people’s job to say that. “That’s all right. This is wack.” That’s their job. So when you listen to them, you can stop being focused and stop doing what you’re doing.
FRIEND: People don’t front on Bernie anymore, but they used to. They didn’t know how big he had become.
I was with him one time when he did this show down at the Holiday Star in Chicago. The bill was fea
turing the O’Jays, the Whispers, and Bernie. The Whispers were supposed to go on first. Bernie was the icebreaker between all the love songs and then the O’Jays. The Whispers don’t want to go on first. They want Bernie to go on first. They’re like, “Why the fuck do we have to go before him? That nigga’s just a comedian.”
The people at the Holiday Star told the Whispers, “Y’all can take y’all muthafuckin’ ass home. Bernie will fill this bitch up by himself.”
BIG NIGGA: Yup, I remember that. I was there, too. The Whispers said they wasn’t gon’ do it. My man at the Holiday Star said, “We don’t need ya.”
So then, they looked out from behind the curtain, and saw all those motherfuckers out there. I mean, that place was packed—and a lot of ’em just came to see Bernie. They saw they were about to lose out on that cheese.
Next thing you know, them motherfuckers out there, spinnin’ and shit, and it’s, “And the beat goes oooonnn . . .”
Them muh’fuckas took they ass out on that stage.
When I first started putting my family into my bits, they were mad than a muthafucka: “You sitting up there telling our family business. It ain’t none of their business. Everything ain’t funny, Bernie.”
They’re mad until they see the people’s reaction. Then when they see the reaction, it’s, “That’s me! He talking about me!”
See it’s a different thang then. At first, it was, “Old black muthafucka gonna sit up there and tell our business! ‘Hee-hee’ my ass! You gonna have people thinking I’m crazy! I don’t be doing that!”
Then they saw the people’s reaction, and they changed. Like they getting some residuals or something.
People tell me I look a little different nowadays than I did when a lot of people first saw me on Def Comedy Jam way back when. Back then, I used to wear glasses. They was funny looking, but that’s not why I wore them. I wore them because I couldn’t see.
I wasn’t caring about them people. You lucky I ain’t come out with no dog!
* * *
What people have to say about me doesn’t bother me, whether I’m on stage or off. I don’t care.
And one thing I sure don’t do: I don’t let no heckler take me out of my show. The best way to deal with a heckler is let him take his self out. Because most hecklers want to be you. They’re jealous. Most hecklers think they funny. Or they funny with their boys. Most of them have to be high in order to even try to get some attention. You got false confidence right there. They around all these people and they hollering out your name. “Go, Bernie!” Or, “Go, whoever it is!”
That just boils his ass, “Oh, this muthafucka ain’t all that. Fuck that black muthafucka. Look at that old loud-ass suit. Juggle some balls, nigga! Clown-ass nigga!”
They got to put you down to build themselves up. That’s what most hecklers are. But inexperienced comedians don’t know how to deal with them. First of all, can’t nobody hear that sumbitch but the few people around him, okay? So, if you let him keep on, they gon’ kick his ass for you. Because ain’t nobody pay no $30 or $40 to hear this stupid sum’bitch. So, if you talking and got the microphone and hear somebody go, “Ohhh” you know they done threw that muthafucka off the balcony. You let the brother hang his self.
Being successful has opened up all kinds of stuff for me. I’m doing things I never used to do.
Like I play golf a lot. I play as much as I possibly can. I got into golf about six years ago. I started watching it at first. Tiger Woods wasn’t even a pro yet.
Before, an old agent of mine used to try to get me to play. I’d be like, “Man, I ain’t playin’ that sissy shit! I’m used to runnin’ and jumpin’, hoppin’ the fence to chase a motherfucker and shit. That’s my kind of sport!”
Man, the first time I played golf, I was tired as a muh’fucka! I was walkin’ all bent down, my back hurtin’, ball wasn’t goin’ nowhere. I’m just out there hurtin’ the earth. I mean, I’m beating the ground the fuck up!
Then I got one or two good hits. That juiced me up. I started taking lessons. I started to really learn the game, what putting means, what a chip shot is. Golf ain’t no chump game. It’s strategic. And I ain’t just playing the course. I’m also playing the elements.
Then you out there, the breeze blowing, the sun shining, the grass is nice and green. It’s something a nigga ain’t accustomed to.
Shit, they out there talkin’ about “caddy.” I ain’t know what a caddy was. I said, “Man, we gon’ drive a Cadillac out on this muh’-fucka?”
I’ve been hunting for the past few years, too. But when I hunt, I don’t go for the kill. I go for the skill.
They call me “the peaceful hunter.” ’Cause I ain’t killed nothin’ yet.
The first time I went huntin’, I ain’t know what the fuck I was doing. My pants were pressed. My boots were shined. I had cologne on. My pager was on my hip. I think I had a sharp hat on.
This old man who I was goin’ with looked at me and said, “Where the fuck you goin’?”
He was like, “The motherfuckin’ animals gon’ smell your ass a mile away! We ain’t gon’ catch shit! You ain’t onstage, muh’fucka!”
So we got to the grounds and, on the outside, there was all kinds of animals out. It was quail, raccoon, squirrel. They were runnin’ around all past us.
You are entitled to three squirrels, two rabbits, two quail. And if it’s quail season, then you can’t shoot rabbit. You can’t even load up until you get 500 feet inside the gate around the grounds.
The animals know the rules. So they runnin’ past, lickin’ their tongue out at you and shit. “Nyaaah, muh’fucka.”
So we go 500 yards inside, somebody said, “Load up.” We loaded up—and you ain’t see nobody. Those muh’fuckin’ animals was gone! We walkin’, stalkin’. You couldn’t find them muh’fuckas. We walked for three, four hours. Muh’fuckas vanished.
This one guy out of all of us caught one quail. We were out there five, six hours. We came back, had to unload. We got from behind the gate, them deers, rabbits and shit started coming out, flying around.
I said, “Ain’t this a bitch!” Them muh’fuckas was playing like it wasn’t shit!
When you go hunting, the dogs are a trip. You see how those dogs hunt those game? Tails stick up. Nose stuck out. They’ll go flush the rabbit. You’ll hear the dogs barking. That means he run-nin’ him toward you.
So I’m out there, and I ain’t shot shit, right? My friends say, “Okay, Bernie, this next one is your rabbit.” They all beatin’ my balls and shit. Then they said, “Get ready!” The dog was howling. The rabbit came out the bushes. He looked at me.
Michael Jordan and wife Juanita Jordan attend Bernie Mac’s weekly Tuesday night show in Chicago in 1995.
Everybody’s screaming, “Shoot it! Shoot it!”
I raised up. The rabbit started running. I ain’t do nothin’.
The dog came out the bushes and snapped at my ass: “Muh’-fucka! All that work I’m doin’ and you ain’t shootin’ shit!”
Man, niggas was so mad at me, on the way home, they put me in the back with the dog.
The dog was in my ear growling all the way: “Black ass mother-fucka! Christian-ass muh’fuckin’ hunter, lettin’ rabbits and squirrels go by like they payin’ a toll!”
’Round here, muh’fuckas come all in your house, walk around your shit like Bro’man on Martin. You havin’ a cookout, and he just show up. A muh’fucka will be sittin’ in your backyard smokin’ cigarettes. He don’t be a neighbor or nothin’.
He just smelled barbecue and came on in.
I don’t know this motherfucka! And he ain’t bringin’ nothing either? Fuck him!
You don’t even know the muh’fucka, but he walk in and grab a drink. Start dancing with your mother-in-law. He grindin’ all on her. Your father-in-law’s mad: “You know that muh’fucka? Well, you better get his ass.” The nigga just be in ya house, slow dancing with your daughter and shit.
Now, you can’t just shoot
a muh’fucka for no reason. You only shoot people for certain things:
1) for fucking with your daughter
2) for comin’ into your barbecue, and
3) for being in your garage fuckin’ with your tools.
You need good reasons. A muh’fucka fuckin’ your daughter? He supposed to get shot.
* * *
You only tell certain muh’fuckas that you gon’ shoot ’em.
You drinkin’ and arguing with a nigga. He’s bigger than you. You like, “What? Man, you fuck around, get shot fuckin’ with me.”
You scared. You ain’t gon’ shoot nobody.
You know, some niggas just gotta tell you they gon’ shoot you so they won’t look like a coward and shit.
“Man, move your car!”
“What? Nigga, don’t . . . Man, I’m gon’ move it so I won’t have to shoot yo’ ass!”
A nigga dancin’ with your woman: “That’s my woman, nigga!”
“Man, you better get the fuck outta here before I beat your ass.”
(Sigh.) “Man, let me go on before I have to shoot me a mother-fucka up in here!”
Naw, you ain’t gon’ shoot nobody. You just scared.
And I’m not sayin’ you should shoot anybody. But you should be able to protect yourself.
Another good thing I’ve been doing is working out more. I was always athletic, but I got older and just kinda got distracted. So now, I got a personal trainer, and I’m getting myself in good shape, physically and mentally.
I go to the gym, but I hate to work out with other people. I like to exercise by myself. I’m focused. I like to get in and get out. Too many other muh’fuckas like to talk.
I’m liftin’ 200 pounds and a muh’fucka wan’ ask me a damn question. “Hey, man, how’s Eddie Murphy?”
I’m on my fifth rep and shit, and a muh’fucka come over: “Can you sign this?”
Muh’fuckas be watching you and shit, too, man. I hear ’em: “He can’t lift 15 pounds, that weak muh’fucka.” “How much weight was on there? 125? He took it all off.” “How much on there now?” “Sixteen pounds.” “Talkin’ ’bout he goin’ for reps.”
