"I was sitting on a bean bag chair, naked, eating Cheetos the other day when Robert Tilton came on TV. He's a televangelist out of Dallas. He looked at me and said, "Are you lonely?" Yeah. "Have you spent half your life in bars pursuing sins of the flesh?" This guy's good! "Are you sitting in a bean bag chair naked eating Cheetos?"... Yes, sir! "Do you have the urge to get up and send me a thousand dollars?" Ha, ha close! I thought he was talking about me there for a second!"
-Ron White
"There was a guy, down in Florida, who said that the age of 53 years old he was in good enough physical condition to withstand the wind, rain, and hail of a force-5 hurricane. Now, lemme explain somethin' to ya: It isn't *that* the wind is blowin'. It's *what* the wind is blowin'. If you get hit by a *Volvo*, it don't matter how many sit-ups you did that mornin'."
-Ron White
I got thrown out of a bar in New York City. Now, when I say I got thrown out of a bar, I don't mean someone asked me to leave, and we walked to the door together, and I said, "Bye everyone, I gotta go!" Six bouncers picked me up and hurled me out of that bar like I was a Frisbee. Those big old New York bouncers that think that bouncing is cool. They hang out with other bouncers, talking about bouncing. They go home at night and watch 'Road House' and fondle themselves. For wearing a hat. I walk into a bar and the bouncer comes over to me, real pissy, and goes, "Take off the hat!" I'm like, "What's the deal?" He goes, "I'll tell you what the deal is. Gay people in this area wear hats; we're tryin' to keep them out of our club!" Oh really? The only way we can tell down in Texas is if they have their hair cut like, yours. And he got all pissed. Anyway, I took off the hat, and he walked away. About an hour later, I was drinking and I forgot. Ever forget? It happened to me. I put the hat on, and he comes back over. Now, I'm between six-one and six-six depending on which convenience store I'm leaving. I weigh two hundred and thirty pounds, and this guy comes over, poking me in the shoulder. He says, "You're outta here!" and I said, "I don't think so, Scooter!" And I was wrong. They hurled me out of that bar. And then they squared off with me in the parking lot, and I backed down from the fight, cause I don't know how many of them it would have taken to whip my ass, but I knew how many they were going to use. That's a handy little piece of information, right there. The police got called because we broke a chair on the way out, and I refused to pay for it. I refused to pay for it cause *we* broke it over *my* thigh. And at that point, I had the right to remain silent, but I didn't have the ability. The cop was like, "Mr. White, you are being charged with drunk in public-KA!" I was like, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! I was drunk in a bar! They, threw me into public-KA! I don't want to be drunk in public-KA! I wanna be drunk in a bar, which is perfectly legal! Arrest them!" He didn't arrest them, instead he had me do a field sobriety check, where you stand on one foot, raise the other foot six inches off the ground, and count to thirty. I made it to "woo!" Is that going to be close enough? It wasn't, so they called in for my arrest record. There's some good news! Satellites are linking up in outer space. Computer banks at NASA are kicking on. There's a telegraph in Fritch, Texas, going: beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. This part takes a while. Brrrrinnnng! Shorthand. Beep. Now, I told you that story, to tell you this story. When I was seventeen, I was arrested for being drunk in... public-KA. The arresting officer, who I had literally known, all my life. You know what I mean? This guy lived four doors down the street me, in a town of less than four hundred people. *We've met.* Now, he takes me to jail, and he asks me if I have any aliases. And I was just being a smartass, and I said, "Yeah. They call me, "Tater Salad!" " Seventeen years later, I'm handcuffed on a bench in New York with blood coming out of my nose, and this cop goes, "Are you Ron 'Tater Salad' White?" Ya caught me! Ya caught the tater!
-Ron White
