Oh little Jim Jefferies... How I'd love to talk to you about my desires in a dark ally somewhere
So, I've been doing some soul-searching lately, exploring my personal desires. You know, the stuff that keeps you up at night...and I don't mean Pornhub. I got to thinking, "What do I really want?" The first thing that came to mind was peace. I want peace...and quiet. But then I remembered I got kids, so I might as well wish for a unicorn shitting gold bricks, right? So, I thought, "Alright, Dave. Let's be realistic. You love food. How about a personal chef?" But then I remembered, I'm a black man in America. If I hire a personal chef, people will start thinking I'm running some sort of underground railroad for Michelin-starred chefs. They'll say, "Damn, Dave Chappelle's house is like the culinary Ellis Island - all the top chefs seem to be disappearing into it." Next thing you know, the FBI's at my door, saying they've had reports of "suspiciously delicious aromas" coming from my property. And you know they wouldn't believe me. They'd be like, "Sir, we have credible information that Gordon Ramsey is tied up in your basement, forced to make beef wellington." And I’d be like, "Nah man, I'm just trying to explore my personal desires. I ain't running no chef smuggling ring." But they won't buy it. They'll say, "Alright, Mr. Chappelle. If you're not hiding any chefs, then explain why there's a trail of truffle oil leading to your back door." And I'd have to say, "Well, shit. I thought that was just my new cologne. It's called 'Eau de Bougie Black Man'. You like it?" So, yeah, I guess I'll stick with my original desire. Peace and quiet. But if any of you know a unicorn that shits gold bricks, holler at your boy.