Episode 145: "Death Fedora"

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December 13, 2013


Adam Conover

Origin of the episode title[edit]

Adam Conover relates his experience at a funeral in Los Angeles where the Syrians in attendance could have been on Shahs of Sunset. One of the attendants switches out his black funeral fedora for a more casual, tweedy one for the reception.



  • Julie has strong feelings about the patriotism of that Pearl Harbor Spaghetti-O, is very angry about this Gwyneth Vanity Fair thing, has an embarrassing Candy Crush story, and watched a video starring one Roger Bacon.
  • A lesson about the flammability of clothes! Winter, and what it does to your face-skin! And what Rachael Ray's end-game is.


  • Comedian ADAM CONOVER is here to discuss with Julie the notion of dogs licking our human faces, all of the interiors we will never see, and how disgusting fleece is.


Download the Episode[edit]

Episode Link

Monologue Transcript[edit]

Transcribed by Tim B

Hello hello. Hey everybody. It's Julie Klausner, back for another episode of How Was Your Week, it is winter on my face; holy shit, everybody. I know it's not fun to listen to a thirty-five year old woman grouse about her skin into a microphone… or do I? **Sigh** Lot of chapping going on. It's Christmas in New York City as of ten minutes ago, it's freezing, I work next to the tree, Rockefeller Plaza – I learned, by the way, it's not "Rocker-feller", there's no R. My face is, just, peeling off of itself: my lips, my chin, my pussy and my back, have been in a… they've been in a better place.

Hi guys, how is everything going? I am done talking about my chapped face; I'm ready to move onto the subject of the… mold smell, that was coming from my sink, earlier? And that drives me crazy? I don't like mold smells. It's actually just one smell, and I don't like it, because it reminds me of these people that I used to, well, that my ex used to be friends with, and so I would therefore have to be… attentive, and nod, and smile. Don't you hate nodding and smiling, ladies? When all of your boyfriend's friends are garbage? So they had an apartment that just smelled like mold; just that, that, like, "Oh, I, I used a washcloth in the shower once, and it's just gonna dryyyyy for-evahhh." So I found this mold smell in the sink, and I complained about it to my super, and he sent the maintanence man up. They're gonna get huge Christmas tips, don't worry about Nick, Chris and Russ, there's three of them; don't worry about them, is my point. My other point is that I got a note on my doorknob when I came home today from Nick, saying: "Hi, I've poured a whole bottle of bleach down your kitchen sink hole, let me know if it worked!" It didn't work. So naturally, I googled "mold kitchen sink", and I was taken to this forum online, wherein people were discussing… baking soda? and, lemons? and things that are just offensive. Like, if you have bed bugs, for example, which I do not have, thank Christ, but if you, God forbid, one day, do, and someone says to you, "You know, tea tree oil–" just run away. Just run away. And if you can, make windmill punches with both of your arms. If you're very good, you can have one arm going front, and the other arm going back.

Yeah, lemons and baking soda were not gonna do it for me, and then I found this video on, like, "How.com!", or whatever thing, and um, I said, "Oh, a video'll be good, that'll be visual for me." Basically, what happened, is it's the squirty thing – well, I got to the end of the story without leading you through the story. But I will tell you the end of the story. The end of the story is that I have this sink that has, like, a squirty water gun-ish apparatus attached to it, the idea being that it's more fun to clean dishes when you shoot them with water that could ostensibly be a tiny showerhead, if you have an imagination, I guess? I dunno, I've never used it; it's stupid; and I hate it. And I'm pretty sure that the hole that it rests in during the day is the source of the mold smell, so I picked up the squirty water, gun th– do you know what I'm talking about? It's, it's connected to a sink. You're, you pick it up, and it's attached to a cord, like a funny, long, like, y'know, tubing of some kind, and then you press down on it, and it, like, squirts water… (ech, so gross). Anyway, I took a thing of chlorox – spray, spray – I unscrewed its top, and I poured it **laughs**, I poured the remaining contents of it down the water squirter's home hole. And I think it, I think it worked, I don't smell the mold now. I'm pretty sure I killed the mold. I also took everything out from underneath my sink and cleaned maniacally, but the, the…

The video that I watched, which ended up being sort of a boondoggle, because, um – although there was somebody on a forum that was like, "If it's not the drain, it could be one of those things that's, like," and I was like, "Oh, the fuckin' thing, I know what she means," or he – anyway. So I clicked on this video, and a man named Roger Bacon said, "Hi, I'm Roger Bacon." And I thought to myself… "you are?" And he said, "Today I'm gonna teach you how to get the mold smell out of your kitchen sink," and I thought to myself, "…this is it. If anyone knows how to do this thing it's Roger Bacon." Anyway, I was dead wrong. Roger Bacon basically was like, "pour baking soda down your drain and chase it with lemons." Thanks, Roger Bacon. Not helpful. I do my own things, and they work.

I wish to inform you that Cori Fischer, who's a woman I've never met, has an instagram account which heavily features her tuxedo cat. I strongly recommend you go on instagram.com slash, what is it… Cori Fischer, C O R I, and then her last name is Fischer with a C, so it's, what is it… F I S C H E R. The reason why I'm telling you to do this is because, just moments ago, as I speak to you, Cori Fischer posted a video of her tuxedo cat lying on his back, on the floor, with his white tummy in the air, and his tail goes back and forth rhythmically, so he looks just like a Felix clock. It's the best thing I've ever seen in my life. That's all. And, did it encourage me to gently criticize Jimmy Jazz for not acting more like a clock? I don't know, you'll have to ask him when he is old enough to afford therapy, ladies and gentlemen.

I got a couple of texts from Nate in the last 24 hours. One I got last night at 12:30 in the mornin'; and I was already in bed, and the lights were out, and my phone goes off, and I'm like, "who's texting me?", and I pick it up, and it's Nate, and he said, "did you read that article about the Australian incest cult?," and I thought to myself, "oh thank God Nate texted me. Thank God I now know there's an Australian incense cult-" Incept. Incest. Incest cult; incest cult; incest cult. He sent me a link to it; I think it was in the Daily Mail… yeah, it is in the Daily Mail. It was in South Wales, Australia; the headline is, "Children of Australian incest cult found living deformed and mute in valley." It's not, uh, it's not a fun read; unless you're Jamie Denbo, who will curl up with this like it is a, uh, a lulleebye. There's sex, brothers and sisters, mutilations, and, I don't wanna say that the Daily Mail is lying? But Nate did give me a heads up when he sent me the link that there was, quote, "one detail that will make you pee and poop at the same time," and I thought to myself, "…that would be fun."

So there's a couple of things in it that I thought, "Oh, is this the thing he meant? No." Like, for example, here's a sentence from this horrifying article: "Betty had thirteen children, some of whom were probably fathered by her father, Tim, and her brother Charlie." …Oy. "Along the way, one of Betty's daughters, Tammy, 27, died from a rare genetic disease known as Zellweger's Syndrome." That's a joke, right? That's someone's, like, gotta – come on, don't – please don't send me, like, links to things that prove that this is a real story, though, 'cuz that'll bum me out man. Anyway, that wasn't the thing that he warned me about, and then when I finally came across it, I thought "…obviously, this is what he meant." And I peed and pooped myself, at the same time. Here is the thing he referred to. The paragraph begins: "The Telegraph reported that dirt caked the surfaces of stoves and cooking facilities, rotten vegetables lay in a refrigerator, and a kangaroo was sleeping on one of the children's beds." A couple of things; a couple of things. **Laughs** If somebody was making this up, and they just needed a specific to prove that it took place in Australia, could you have thought of anything, like, an easier grab than a sleeping kangaroo? Second of all, Nate pointed out that he liked the heightening of it, the, uh: the dirt on the stove was one thing; the vegetables were another; but a kangaroo in a children's bed! That's shocking. Finally, I just wanna point out that, if there were a kangaroo newspaper covering this event – alleged event – that we'll say happened, the headline would read something like, "Glorious slumber interrupted," because I can't think of anything more comfortable than a kangaroo sleeping in a children's bed. I can't even begin to think about how cozy that must be. I don't think any of us can.

Nate also texted me about an hour ago saying, "Did you hear the latest about Rachael Ray? She killed someone in her family." And it turns out that her aunt froze to death. It's a little convoluted, it seems like her aunt, or somebody related to her died in the cold, and it was something about how she was, um, negligent. Nate also hates Rachael Ray, so I wouldn't be surprised if he has a Google alert set up for "Rachael Ray AND murder". Apparently the victim's cousin gave the following quote to the National Enquirer: "My mother is dead today because the Ray family neglected her." Oh boy, buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh. "Ray's seventy-seven year old aunt Geraldine Domineca Sclerderi... Scuderi, reportedly left the house to feed some birds", oh no… this is bad. Anyway, Rachael Ray didn't go to the funeral. Suspicious much? I don't mind Rachael Ray terribly; I don't like her voice; I don't like her, actually, now that I'm saying this out loud. Doesn't she have like a cheesy musician husband and a pitbull that she's like, "Yummo!" about? I like pitbulls, I have no problem with pitbulls, but there's something about Rachael Ray with a pitbull that makes me really uncomfortable, like, what's your game? What your, like, what's your endgame? What is it, a leather blazer? or a cabin, or an album? I don't know, cooking pans in Walmart? like… Who are you? And what do you want? And why are you on television? …And how did you get into my house!?

Rachael Ray has that – uh, I'm gonna use the word, why not? – jappy rasp that I grew up with. I don't wanna say all the popular girls had it, but it was pretty close to, like, a side pony with a scrunchie around it when I was growing up. That if a girl was becoming, she would (rasps) sound like she'd been partying all night. I don't care if Rachael Ray lives or dies, I should also put that out there. And I once saw her make a recipe with turkey sausage; again, not a great story, but it's just true. And if she's a murderehr, well, I hope justice prevails, you know? You know.

I tried watching The Sound of Music; I didn't like it; I don't like that musical, I'm not a Rodgers and Hammerhead. I think people were insanely harsh on Carrie Underwood. After all the tweets and what-have-you's, I came back and watched it on my DVR and I was like, Oh my God, I expected her to be, um, y'know, just like, taking a shit on the stage or on the, y'know, smearing it on the nuns, or whatever, but. Sharpling talked about this this week, people were, like really harsh. She was fine. Everything's fine.

I do like the idea that NBC gave a prime time slot to an opening shot of Audra McDonald dressed like Mother Superior singing some, what is it, w-how does it start, with the Latin - ech, please don't tell me, I can't with The Sound of Music. I can't with Sound of Music, I can't with, uh, what are the other ones; South Pacific. They're just like homework to me. The songs are all in these major chords and deep-ah-deep-ah-doo, y'know? I can't, it's too square, you can't… Even if music isn't influenced by rock n' roll (rock n' roll, she says), I still wanna know it was created after it existed… right? I don't wanna listen to any sort of rag. And I don't like the people who are saying, "Oh, that, that musical did well; what if next time they do–" well Grease I would actually really like to see, but what else did people suggest– I don't know, garbage musicals. They can't do South Pacific; it's racialist. Other ones that I don't like: 1776 was in the mix, at one point? Yeah, that's a great idea; wonderful. Yeah, let's, let's do 1776. Because if we're gonna do a musical that's family friendly, we better make sure it's retarded, and I'm using the R word here because I love musicals, and I don't like it when they are dumb, and I'm, I'm, am I calling The Sound of Music dumb? Not necessarily, it's not my thing. Look, Laura Benanti is in it. Let's focus on the positive. Laura Benanti was in it, and after, I dunno, after Carrie Underwood came in with her, what did she have, a braid situation?, and there was "all this friendly acting!" I just started fast-forwarding. And I said to Jimmy, who was at my ankles, I said to him, "Jimmy, we're lookin' for Laura Benanti, cuz if Laura Benanti isn't on screen, we don't care." We found her and she was perfect.

I know this was a while ago, or it seems like it was, but Saturday was Pearl Harbor Day: Saturday, December 7th. SpaghettiOs, the SpaghettiOs corporation put out what was widely considered to be an offensive tweet. I don't know how many of you, first of all, would have known it was Pearl Harbor Day had SpaghettiOs not – SpaghettiO; SpaghettiO-Co, which I believe is the company that makes SpaghettiOs – if they had not tweeted that supposedly offensive tweet about celebrating, uh, our freedom because of, uh, Pearl Harbor having called America to action, then how many of us would have even known that it was Pearl Harbor Day, okay? And if you don't know what the tweet was, **noises** you're like, living in a – no, I don't, ok, I'm not here to judge you because you don't know an Internet meme. So they tweeted and they were like, "Happy Pearl Harbor Day," or like, "Our thoughts are with you this Pearl Harbor Day," and then they attached this illustration of a SpaghettiO holding an American flag and just happier than you've ever seen a SpaghettiO; he just had a big smile on his sort of, um, negative-space face, and even though you thought the hole in the SpaghettiO was his mouth, it turns out that it wasn't, his mouth was actually above the hole, and he was licking his chops, or lips, and he was just really really psyched to be – an American, honestly. And people were up in arms, they said, "that's inappropriate to see a happy SpaghettiO holding an American flag on Pearl Harbor Day," and I say to you: what was Pearl Harbor about if not this happy SpaghettiO celebrating America?! You know? Anyway. I thought it was cute. I thought it was cute, and I thought it was funny. I did not think it was an "epic fail."

I had an odd weekend this weekend because… well mostly because it was raining on Friday night, and I was very tired by the time I got home from work, and it was late, and I just… Well, to be quite honest with you, I pretty much stayed up all night playing Candy Crush and listening to – oh, this is a nerdy thing I'm about to say - Spotify has comedy albums, guys. So I listened to Brent Weinbach, Maria Bamford, and I listened to a bunch of uh – whatever, I was listening to stuff and I was playing Candy Crush, okay? It was soothing. Five hours later… I went to bed. But in the time I was playing Candy Crush I was losing lives, you know how it is: you run out of lives, you have to either buy lives or do what the sneaky trick is, apparently - well now I, I don't need to say apparently because I've done it, I'm not proud at all, especially when you are about to hear the consequences.

What I did is I went to the settings and then I adjusted 'date and time' so that it wasn't automatic, and then I told it that it was tomorrow. But then, after I used those lives, because, you know it makes you wait for more lives? That's why I set it to tomorrow. I know, I'm not, believe me, I – as much contempt as you have for me, what is that Crank Yankers thing, "Can you do me a favor and double it?," that's how I feel about me - anyway. At a certain point I was buying lives and, or not buying lives, I was cheating lives by going to the settings, getting lives, and, like I said, I was up a really long time on Friday, I just had to burn off some whatever the fuck it was and just fuckin' play Candy Crush for a really long time and so… I ended up setting the date, kind of, like, really into the future, like, way too into the future, because I– because it has to select a date when you choose the date and time and at a certain point I was just like, letting the wheel spin, and being like, "Yeah, it's May 16, Two thousand twenty six, why the fuck not? GIVE ME MORE JELLY BEANS IN MY EYES." Show me the creeping chocolate layer level. Oh, it's Mr. Steampunk, hi Mr. Steampunk. Oh no, it's the genie that I get at the end of the game when I lose the game and why – where does the genie fit into this universe? The genie only shows up when you lose – anyway.

I set the clock into the future, and then I realized while I was trying to go back and forth between Candy Crush and other, lesser apps, I suppose, that my texts weren't sending, and other things weren't working, I wasn't getting email; and then I realized: I'm fucking with nature. I'm going back in time and making a butterfly's wing flap, and all of a sudden my brother is black, you know what I mean? Actually, that's a bad example, because that would be… well it would be amazing, but, but anyway. The Candy Crush app, as it happens… whatever, it was, you know, it was what it was. But I thought I went back to 'settings' and changed it back when I was done with my Candy Crush, but it turns out that there were just glitches, and basically I ended up spending, like, the whole next day not being able to send or receive texts but, like, not knowing, so I was like, "Why isn't this person contacting me? We had plans. Ohhh they probably hate me very suddenly."

"Why would they hate you, Julie?"

"Oh, they just learned who I really am."

"How did they do that?"

"Well, let me backtrack and think of the last interaction I had with them, and, and, uh target and pinpoint a moment of that interaction in which I said something that could possibly be construed as offensive."

"Really? Because that's all you are."

"That's all I am, but that's not all you are!"

And I didn't get a bunch of texts from people on Saturday, and I thought to myself – and then I finally learned how to fix it, and I, it was like, iMessage was not working, but the - whatever, who cares, it's - I'm not gonna set the clock forward anymore. And you know what else? I'm over Candy Crush. I don't give a shit about that fucking game anymore. Do I play it every day? Yes, I play it every day. Am I getting past level sixty three? Not in this lifetime, but I'm not setting my clock forward anymore because I don't wanna fuck up my life! And that's how I felt. I had plans Saturday night. I had plans. I sent a text, I said, "I'm taking a nap, I'll text you after", I texted after, no response, I'm probably a terrible person – panic, panic – time goes and, comes and goes, I finally shut down my phone, restart it. Oh I sent a - it's actually, I, there was, I'm missing a step, I sent a text to Danielle Henderson and said, "Can you read this?" And she goes, "yeah", and I thought to myself, "I'm losing my mind." Finally realized what the problem was; there is no apology more profuse and awkward than that of a woman who has missed real correspondences from a real human being because she was too busy trying to avoid 99-cent charge after 99-cent charge because she's addicted to a candy color game.

But I've kicked it, I'm not into it anymore, I've told you that, I'm done. I'm not done, but I'm done, you know what I mean? I've had my binge. I had my, like, Donald Duck makes his fucking nephews suck on cigars until they're sick kind of exp- by the way, I hate Donald Duck, I fucking hate Donald Duck. My relationship with Mickey Mouse: ech, you know, that one sucks too. Who- who do I like in the Disney universe? Probably just Minnie. I like Minnie; not crazy about Daisy; but Donald Duck especially can go fuck himself. I hate him. I think he is a sadist. He just reminded me of, like, some, just, really old gross white guy at last call at a dive bar who would, like, you're just, like, "Don't lock eyes with that one, don't lock eyes with Jasper. Don't. lock. eyes. with. Jasper." And then he like, I just hated his voice, and more than, than hating Donald Duck's voice, I hate people that imitate Donald Duck's voice. Have you ever met people like that? They're horrible. They're horrible. If anyone ever imitates Donald Duck to you, run away, and don't explain a goddamn thing, don't be like, "I have an appointment," just leave, just go away, because if enough people do it, then they'll begin to figure out what's going on.

This Gwyneth Paltrow article is not coming out, by the way. If you heard the show last week, I'll have you know Jamala Johns and I discussed how upset we are that the Gwyneth Paltrow tell-all Vanity Fair article was not in our eyes, that one that she sued over preventing its publication, and guess what, bad guys won. Bad guys won. She won, and they're going ahead with some puff piece, and it's garbage, and she's garbage, and, I know that people direct unnecessary quote-on-quote hate for her because she's skinny and white and privelege and pretentious and England, and, I don't care but – um – I do care. It's all I, it's all I care about, honestly, but I hate her in a way that's really different and interesting. And I want that article. I really want the original article, I wanna know everything that was in it, and I'm frankly a little disappointed with my pals at Gawker who haven't located the bullet points of what was in that. You guys found Lena Dunham's book proposal and published that shit, and you don't know what was in that Gwyneth article that you can't even fuckin' give us a clue?! What was in the article?!? Ugh! What is the point anymore? Why did that Spaghetti-O die in fuckin' Vietnam for us not to have the freedom to read about what Gwynth Paltrow did to get that Oscar, and you know it's disgusting.

I don't know, I'm, I, I don't, I don't wanna talk about any, about anything else anymore.

I was gonna talk about… what was I gonna talk about, I was gonna talk about Yeezus and how I like Yeezus and how I think it's a good album. And then I was also gonna talk about Brittany Jean. She has a song how she wants her perfume all over her man, it's kinda sexy and I like it. And then I was gonna say how it's really great that India banned gay sex, because that's probably the source of all of their problems, and good for them. And I was also gonna say, I, I can't believe it was this year, but good for the AV Club for remembering that Princesses of Long Island was on television this year and putting it on their "Worst of TV" list, even though it's, you know, bad good.

But I don't wanna talk about any of that stuff! Because I'm so mad. Why was I mad again? About Gwyneth- I don't care about Gwyneth Paltrow… Oh, the SpaghettiO! That's why I was mad. Furthermore, canned pasta, which I've only started, I only ate for the first time – two years ago?– I remember because Spoony and I went home from – we were at the Best Show together, we did the, fuck, we were at WFMU, and he and I took the PATH train back from Jersey City, we went – we got off at the World Trade Center stop, and while we rode or traveled, or there was maybe a cab at one point, I said to him – oh, he was talking to me about ravioli, Chef Boyardee ravioli, and how he used to eat it, and he's like, he said later, he's like, "your eyes got kind of wide when I described it," because I went home and I just made myself, like, a thing of it – You don't want to know what I did that night to my body, but um. After that, I, I think – oh, it was Hurricane, uh, Sandy, that's what happened. It was Hurricane Sandy, and I just got a bunch of Chef Boyardee ravioli, and I was like, let's fuckin' crack this open and dip my fork in, and like, if you think I'm heating it up you're clearly insane, and it was the best thing I've ever had in my life. You know why? 'Cuz the sauce tastes like soup. And starch is starch. Not- not starch is starch; I mean, there's some starch that's garbage, like the macaroni in a Progresso, like, ech, I'll fuckin' punch you in the face, don't even call that noodles, y'know? But ravi – ohh, I'm getting, like, horny, just – anyway. The point is, I didn't know canned pasta – my taste buds (…taste buds…) **Sigh** Now that I know what canned pasta is, I'm very defensive of it, and I don't think that the SpaghettiOs people did anything wrong. Because their hearts were in the right place! …They were in a SpaghettiO place.

I've never actually had SpaghettiOs, they- to be frank they look disgusting.

Let us begin the show. We have one guest this week because one guest is all we need. Adam Conover is a comedian, and he is in a group called Olde English, and he is also the boyfriend of one Lisa Hanawalt, a cartoonist who is, uh, wonderful and brilliant. Enjoy this interview with Adam Conover.