I know, right? It’s kind of outrageous. John hates Baby Yoda. It’s kind of disgusting. I can’t believe it either. Anyway, this episode of Zero Credit(s) is 50% crazy holiday time traditions and 50% just the latest episode of the Mandalorian. That’s about it, really.
Years ago, I was sitting in a Portland Cafe around 2 pm on Wednesday. I believe the cafe’s name was Brown Time. Local joint, good atmosphere. I was sitting there, sipping on a cup of warm Brown™, when comedian Bill Burr pulled up a chair and sat next to me. He looked me dead in my eyes and he whispers, “Listen here, buddy. This is a stick-up. I am robbing you here in this Brown Time in Portland, Oregon on a Wednesday at 2 pm. Here’s the thing though, palie. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your wallet. Keep it in your pocket, champ.” He looked around, to see if anyone had caught on to his plans, but everyone had their heads buried in their laptops and books. “No, I want something far more valuable, chum. I need your time. Give me your time. I need it. I only have so much time. And I spend more than half of it on stage. Telling jokes. I tell jokes on a stage and make people laugh, but there’s so much more I need to do. So I need your time.” Bill Burr took out a small handgun. He leveled it my chest. “This is a gun, buddy. And it shoots bullets.” He chocked the gun, because it was one of those guns with like the manual hammer thing that they use in movies. “I need your time, pall-o mall-o. I have some projects I want to be in. Star Wars. I’m going to be in Star Wars and no one can stop me but time. Cause I need to be on the road. I need the jokes. I need those jokes to live, skinbag. But Star Wars is so much more. I grew up on that sweet, sweet space opera. It could make my year, jerkboy. So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to give me a month. That’s all I need. Just give me a month right here on the table. Just lay a month on the table and you can go. Just one month. It’s all I need. All I need is a month. One month.”
He squinted his eye and looked down the barrel of his small handgun.
So I did what anyone would do. I put one of my months on the table. It was a February I’d been saving for a special occasion. I don’t want to call Mr. Burr out, but he did steal a month of my time from me. And I’ll never get it back.
It’s Zero Credit(s)!
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