Lifelong friends Ted O’Gorman and Michael Paul Smith read their comedy sketches into microphones. Oh...and that's where their talented friends come in.
Ted & Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones
March 8, 2022
MPS: Brave listeners of the internet, welcome to Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones. I’m Michael Paul Smith.
Ted: I’m Ted O’Gorman.
MPS: Ted, do you have a favorite soap scent? Like, I’m partial to lilac, but lately I’ve been pretty heavy into pomegranate. And I’ll tell ya-it’s done wonders for my glow.
Ted: Oh, Jesus! All day listeners, it’s been all day with this shit. Here’s the fuckin’ episode.
MPS: Well that seemed uncalled for.
Ted: STOP WITH “A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN”!
—Young Stephen Wright 1—
V.O: And now we present–comedian Stephen Wright, performing as a baby.
Stephen: Just before my bris, I asked the doctor “First time?” And he said, “No. I’ve done dozens of these.” And I said, “Me too. You should’ve seen what I started out with.”
Stephen: Sometimes I get diaper rash. That stuff really chaps my ass.
Stephen: My mom says I need to lay off the bottle. So she’s moved me on to a sippy cup.
Stephen: I wear girls booties, but only for comfort.
Stephen: My mom insists that being a parent is the most important thing she’ll ever do.
I find her lack of ambition disappointing.
Stephen: For a while I had a crush on a girl in my daycare, named Becky. But then I found out she was 6 months younger than me. That’s too much of an age gap to overcome. We’d have nothing to talk about… even after she learns how.
Stephen: I’m not wild about baby food. Somehow mashed peas seem like a pretty big downgrade from a boob.
Stephen: Some of my friends are into finger painting. I think they’re limiting themselves and should learn how to paint the whole hand.
Stephen: I’m a baby so I don’t have a phone number. But If i did, I’d hold up my hand and say, “It’s this many.”
Stephen: I like making a kaka in the sandbox. I feel like it’s gotten me closer to my cat.
V.O: This has been–comedian Stephen Wright, performing as a baby.
—Sandals Paradise 2 —
V.O: Beaches, swim up bars, 5 star restaurants, spa, live music day and night…But you’ll be dodging attempts on your life the entire time. Because our resort will be filled with well-trained, enigmatic assassins who just can’t seem to successfully snuff you out. That’s right. You and your family will have to summon sub-conscious investigative and self-defense capabilities that none of you could have known you had, because you’ve never trained for them!
Lounge in your personal cabana while your family is at the front desk trying to figure out why all of your credit cards are being denied. Enjoy your favorite music streaming in every room when a ninja assassin pops up from your hamper and misses you with a throwing star as you get up from the toilet, none-the-wiser. Sample the mysterious smell of gas as you and your wife discuss the at-first outlandish possibility that your identity has been stolen, and that there’s a “you” look-alike back in your hometown keeping up appearances.
Wife: But how did we get this reservation in the first place? We had no problem making the reservation and checking in. It’s almost as if… we’ve been lured here, and now…we’re trapped. And what’s with those gashes in the bathroom wall that weren’t there when we arrived?
Husband: I don’t know, honey! Your guess is as good as mine!
V.O: Indulge in all-inclusive liquor and decompress in your suite’s very own jacuzzi while a member of the cleaning staff ignores your “Do Not Disturb” sign and comes in dressed as a French maid. At which point you’ll say to yourself:
Husband: Why the French maid outfit in a modern hotel in the continental United States? Ah, there I go again, ruining our vacation with frivolous critiques. I’m sure they work hard. Maybe I should get out of the jacuzzi and apologize. But didn’t I put that damn “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door? That’s on them. What I ought to do is report them for the intrusion. Gah! There I go again, with my classist, patriarchal privilege. Always the victim. I should thank them for their hard work and ask their pronouns! I’m going to! Where’s my robe? Am I drunk? I feel drunk. Oh my God, I’m underwater.
V.O: Surrender to our total submersion water therapy at the hands of the supposed member of the housekeeping staff. He goes by he-slash-him, and simply couldn’t procure a hotel uniform from the supply closet. He had to go to Party City, and this was all that they had. But the good news is, he’s also super ticklish.
V.O: In flailing for your life, you manage to get a good accidental pit-poke in, sending the assassin reeling backwards and falling against a wall where our solid sterling-silver towel rack falls on his head, knocking him out cold. Wrap yourself in your complimentary thirsty terry cloth robe and then find your family tied up in your suite’s palatial sitting room. You’ll untie your family while asking yourselves:
Wife: How could such a fantastic week be over already?
Husband: Time to head home and confront the shady organization who’s pilfered our very existence. Sounds complicated.
Wife: It may take several blockbuster sequels to get to the bottom of this.
V.O: We’ll be here when you need us. Sandals Paradise. Just for you, your idyllic family, and an accident prone, fictionalized, martial arts appropriating CIA, that finds your personage too good to pass up, but not as easy to steal as they’d hoped, after all.
—Things You Should Never Say: 6—
V.O: And now we present: things you should never ever say on a first date. Or probably ever.
Guy 1: The penis is wooden. It was carved from the mainmast of an old pirate ship. But the balls are real. How about you, any wooden parts?
Woman 1: Espionage is more of a calling than a job. But, I’ll tell you this, you’ve never met anyone that can fit a silencer to a pistol faster than me!
Man: We were hysterical. By the time the cops finally arrived most of him had already dissolved and been flushed down the drain. They couldn’t even give me a ticket! Fuck the police, am I right?!
Woman: You can never predict what a man will admit to when he’s staked to the ground and the fire ants start doing their thing. I’ve submitted my findings to Quantico. I’m waiting to hear back.
Man: I actually get that a lot, no I am not a Hassidic Jew, I just like to dress this way.
Woman 1: On my workbench at home I have the dehydrated spleen of the last man who wronged me. So don’t fuck this up.
Woman: I sneak into my neighbor’s house sometimes and rearrange the furniture and write creepy messages on the wall. That old man thinks he’s being haunted by a guy he killed in Korea! It’s really nice to have a creative project to focus on again.
Man: I once got in a fist fight with Pavarotti. Floored that fucker.
Guy 1: And I’m not saying it’s my favorite movie, but when I saw “Requiem For A Dream” I just went, “Wow! Somebody has finally written my life story!”
Crotch Woman: Last summer I got slammed so much I needed to put ice on my crotch… for the swelling.
Guy 1: How are you with casual racism against certain indingeous peoples?
Crotch Woman: In a pinch, some frozen peas’ll do!
Man: I’m not wild about women who “achieve things.” Is the branzino good here? Do you de-bone it tableside? Can a woman do that?
Woman 1: If this night goes the way I think it will, in an hour you’ll be zip tied to a chaise lounge while I feed you herring and force you to watch the late 90’s Kirstie Alley series, “Veronica’s Closet.”
V.O: This has been: things you should never ever say on a first date. Or probably ever.
—Young Stephen Wright 2—
V.O: And now we present–comedian Stephen Wright, performing as an eleven year-old.
Stephen: I’m down to two packs of candy cigarettes a week. My pediatrician says I have to cut back.
Stephen: I got in trouble on my ride home from school. Yeah, I was bus-ted.
Stephen: I once got caught stealing. But it wasn’t so bad. That’s just part of playing baseball.
Stephen: I don’t get along with the principal at my grade school. She says, If I don’t learn what I’m being taught, I won’t get a real job. I respect that she speaks from experience.
Stephen: I got detention for cutting class. Jokes on them, I cut detention too.
Stephen: My mom told me not to use foul language. So I told her to cluck off.
Stephen: I don’t like the lunch lady very much. She insists I call her mom.
Stephen: My mom scheduled another playdate with Carol this week. You know what happens on the third playdate. I just hope this time I get to be the doctor.
Stephen: My parents are both anarchists. I’m afraid if I get elected to student council, they’ll kill me.
Stephen: My parents sent me to a child psychiatrist. I think a grownup one would have been better.
Stephen: I don’t use condoms. Not because I don’t like the way they feel. I’m just 11 and dont have sex.
Stephen: If you knew it as well as I do, you’d call it the jungle James.
Stephen: I like Disney movies. But I don’t like “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I prefer full, over a quasi, when it comes to modos.
V.O: This has been–comedian Stephen Wright, performing as an eleven year-old.
Joe: Yes sir, Mr. Freeman.
Boss: Come on in.
Joe: Thank you sir. Thanks for seeing me. It’s nice to meet you.
Boss: That’s quite alright. My assistant didn’t get your resume when you made the appointment for the interview.
Joe: Oh, sorry about that. I was still updating it. I have it here.
Boss: Great. What I’d like to do is just go through it with you now. And if I get a sense that you’re qualified, then we’ll give you a call to schedule a second interview with my boss, and if HE likes you, then we’ll have a third round with HR.
Joe: Sounds great. I’m excited.
Boss: Terrific. Let’s see what we have here. You said you were still updating it, so this is about as current as it gets, I assume.
Joe: Yes sir. Up to and including this very morning.
Boss: Uh-huh. Well let’s start at the beginning. (Reading) Associates from Nassau Community…
Joe: Yeah. It’s a…better school than you think.
Boss: Produce clerk at…a bodega.
Joe: That’s right. I can still pick out a helluva cantaloupe. Yeah. Uh-huh.
Boss: Uh-huh. Banana Republic, two years. Can you also pick out a helluva…t-shirt?
Joe: I…why would I…what do you mean?
Boss: Let’s move on. This…is confusing. The next line says “Funny face on license: 2015-present.”
Joe: It’s true. Check it out. I know I’ve…got it somewhere…ah! Here it is.
Boss: Yeah. “Loves pb and j: 1987-present”
Joe: Give or take, yeah. I had a few bologna and cheese years in there that I still find hard to talk about.
Boss: “Allergic to chocolate.” Oh, and only since 2018. I’m sorry to hear that.
Joe: Thank you. Also hard to talk about.
Boss: “Mom makes the best beef stew.” Also “1987-present”
Both: Give or take. Yeah.
Boss: Yeah, I got it. Congratulations.
Joe: Thank you. Worth noting also that the only beef stew I’ve ever eaten is my mother’s. I refuse to eat others, because I assume they are inferior. And because my mom would probably be…
Boss: “Double-jointed, likes Coke way more than Pepsi, sleepwalks with a dagger in hand, jaw clicks when he eats cheeseburgers, just bought new shoes…”
Joe: Yeah, see? That one I can verify personally. Here ya go. Ooh, I thought this chair swiveled…there you go.
Boss: It doesn’t. You have light up shoes. I’m very impressed. Ok. Very nice.
Joe: Thank you.
Boss: “Looks good in hats, Has never been in love” and instead of a year, you just wrote “Ever.”
Joe: It’s a long story.
Boss: But is it?
Joe: Not really.
Boss: “Can say ABC’s backwards, knows when his dog is confused by its head tilt, once ate a whole lemon on a dare, loves Huey Lewis but not The News, once conned a doctor out of a large supply of tongue depressors, can tell who is Amish on sight, good at looking like he knows about wine, thinks he’s going bald…”
Joe: Yeah, you can tell if I lift my head like this…
Boss: We don’t have to do that. We don’t have to do that.
Boss: “Has never contracted hypospadious queso.” I take from that you’ve contracted every other disease as you’ve only felt it important to mention this one. Moving on. “Can identify languages he doesn’t speak based on how they sound, hot tubs give him rashes.” Well that’s…honest, at least. “Has been to every Wresltemania since 1987.” Hold on… You were only born in 1987.
Joe: That’s right and when Hogan slammed Andre The Giant in the middle of The Pontiac Silverdome in front of 93,000 people my mother’s water literally broke. And soon after, another Hulkamaniac was born, brother!
Joe: I’ve seen Roddy Piper in the flesh, brother! I’ve seen the Ultimate Warrior battle the Macho Man Randy Savage! I’ve been sprayed with Stone Cold’s blood and I’ve cheered on the dead man himself The Undertaker! So when you talk Wrestlemania, you’re not just talking about the biggest night in sports entertainment, you’re talking about my personal story and the reason I sit before you today, brother! So whatcha gonna do, when the Joe-ster runs wild on you?!
Boss: I have to say, Mr., uh, Joe, a lot of these things on your resume are neither your accomplishments, nor in some cases accomplishments at all.
Joe: I mean…except for the Wrestlemanias.
Boss: Fine, except for the Wrestlemanias. A lot of these are food related, or just…facts. It reads more like a dating profile than a resume. Do you have any weaknesses?
Joe: Well, I know most people would say, “I’m a perfectionist,” or “I’m competitive,” or “Can’t resist a challenge.” But I’m not here to waste your time, Mr. Freeman. You’re a busy man and you don’t need me tugging your pud with B.S. answers. My weakness…I can’t believe I’m going to say this…my weakness is I’ve never found Waldo. Sure, I’ve had friends point him out. And I go, “Shit, there he was the whole time. What’s wrong with me?” But I’ve always been the guy that doesn’t see him behind the barber pole. That’s my weakness. So if this job involves intricate searches for stripe-shirted men, I may not be your guy. In fact, I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’d better go. Can I have that resume? It’s my only copy.
Boss: No. This is mine.
Joe: Oh…ok…I guess…put it on the bulletin board, and…
Boss: I may need it when I’m considering candidates for your executive administrative assistant.
Joe: What? Why?
Boss: Because, Mr. Magnarelli. The person that I am looking at right now is the person who is the next Vice President in Charge of Programming for Fox News!
Boss: Really, son. Yeah. In all honesty, all our other candidates were women, so obviously we couldn’t hire them.
Joe: Oh, yeah. Of course.
Boss: So you get the job. As long as you say yes. Joe, say yes.
Joe: YES! I do have a degree in journalism, by the way.
Boss: Oh Joe, you don’t need that to work here.
Joe: Oh ok, cool. I’m glad I didn’t list that on my resume.
MPS: This episode goes out to George R.R Martin–famous as an author, infamous as the Emperor of procrastinators. By virtue of the fact that he hasn’t finished a story he started writing in the early ‘90’s, well he makes us feel a helluva lot better about ourselves whenever we feel the need to push back a deadline or a release date.
Gillian: And…if I may…
MPS: Oh, of course.
GPS: When you two get your own series, the ending will be much more satisfying. I will see to that.
Ted: Those guys didn’t have you, Geeps.
GPS: You’re goddamn right they didn’t.
“Young Stephen Wright”
Ted: That impression can put you the fuck to sleep. I’ll tell you that. Christ.
“Things You Should Never Say”
MPS: I’m here to teach you calculus!
Ted and Julian: His body’s decomposing in my locker.
Julian: We had the same one!
JMI: Espionage is more of a calling than a job. But, I’ll tell you this, you ain’t never met a brother that can fit a silencer to a pistol faster than me! (Breaks character) Now why he’s a spy, I don’t know.
Ted: Cause no one would suspect him.
JMI: Cause no one would…he’s got the best kill count of the entire…
Ted: He’s got the best cover story ever.
JMI: Nobody sees Jerome comin’. Nobody!
GP: He can’t wait to tell anyone he’s a spy.
JMI: Finally somebody has written my life story.
MPS: Great. I was gonna suggest you try one like “American Psycho”, and you just did it. So…
JMI: I don’t spit when I talk. But I do spit when I listen. Well you know, anyway, enough about me…
GP: I don’t want to paint with a broad brush but all Greeks smell like feta cheese. So what are you? Portuguese. Great. Check, please.
MPS: I don’t know why he’s eating beef stew as an infant, but whatever.
Ted: I don’t think this guy comes from the healthiest family, Mike.
Ted: Well, it’s 2 o’clock. Wanna have a martini and then do nothing the rest of the day?
MPS: Yeah! Can we go to Capital Grille?
Ted: Son, at this level we dine at the Rainforest Cafe.
MPS: Cool, can I order whatever I want?
Ted: You can order two of whatever you want.
MPS: Cool. Good gig.
MPS: Uh, Ted I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Ameeta, we’ll talk to you soon. Gillian, we live together. So I’ll see you momentarily.
“Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones” is written and directed by Michael Paul Smith and Ted O’Gorman, with some room for improv because this is a comedy podcast, friends. We’re not tied to the page. In addition to our hosts; Ted and Michael, this season features the voice talents of Andrew Bancroft-aka Jelly Donut, Aneesa Folds, James Monroe Iglehart, C. Julian Jimenez, Eddy Lee, Patrick McCartney, Janice McIntyre, Hallie O’Gorman, Mike O’Gorman, Emmanuel Polycarpe, April Sickler, Nik Walker, and me: Gillian Pensavalle. I’m also the executive producer. Season 3 of “Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones” was recorded, edited, sound designed, and mixed by the badass team at Audio Muses: India Hooi and Ameeta Ganatra. This season was produced in association with our friends over at Mischief Media, as well as co-producer Jenson Parker Neal. Original music for “Ted and Michael” Season 3 composed by India Hooi. You can find full credits, plus episodes, transcripts, and more at tedandmichael.com. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts, and we’d really appreciate it if you could rate and review us on Apple Podcasts. Those reviews help a lot, and to be honest since it’s just us here, Ted and Michael need a lot of reassurance, and it would just make my life so much easier. Thanks. Follow the guys on Twitter @tedandmichael, individually @tedogorman, @mpsmithnyc, and use the hashtag #tedandmichael on all the things. For love notes and hate mail, use firstname.lastname@example.org. Thanks again for listening, and hey–stay weird, friends!