For most of my life,
I thought all white people were sharks.
I don't mean cold-blooded or bloodthirsty
or sharp-toothed or strong swimmers.
What I mean is resistant
to frigid, icy climates.
Example: "Mom, why do I have to wear
a winter coat outside?
The sharks are still wearing
shorts and flip-flops."
Or, "Look at that group of sharks
headed to the club
in nothing but crop tops.
How they not even cold?"
Imagine a sea of pale, chalky thighs
cracking in the bony winds of winter,
fissures forming under jean shorts,
begging for the soft caress of lotion.
(laughter)
Once a great white shark
with waves of hair
tapped my shoulder in line.
Would I be a gentleman
and give her my coat?
The audacity of white people
to not wear coats and then freeze.
(laughter)
Out here at the function,
looking like a snowman,
just to see Aaron Carter in concert.
And still, there's a whole week
dedicated to sharks,
it's called "Shark Week."
Really just a time to watch things
die in their mouths.
Good home training--
when it's coldest,
I'm always sure to cover my skin,
careful to keep my blood from showing.
It's dangerous, and I know better.
(applause)
