Oh, Twitter: it’s the gift that keeps on giving to the comedy world. And last night, it gave in a big way, when Marc Maron picked a
fight discussion faux fight with Patton Oswalt. This sort of reminds me of what we’ve all been told about the back table at the Comedy Cellar in New York, wherein some of the best comics bust each others’ balls before and after their sets. Anyway, if you missed the exchange, I have some good news. I’ve laid it all out below in easy-to-read play-style format.
One important note: I have taken the liberty of reordering some of the dialogue so that it makes more sense. We all know that when you get into a Twitter chat, your current response may be a reaction to the other Twitter-er’s comment from two Tweets ago– or whatever the variation may be. So, here it is. Enjoy!
Marc Maron: Okay, fuckers! Beddy bye time!
Maron: I’m tired of this word crack house.
Patton Oswalt: Goddamit, I can’t sleep.
Maron: Shut the fuck up and go to bed.
Oswalt: YOU go to bed, motherfucker.
Maron: I’m not tired anymore. Entertain me, little man. Since your so AWAKE.
Oswalt: I hope you drown in a patchouli pit at Bonnaroo tomorrow. And the last thing you hear is “Sugar Magnolia” played on a washtub.
Maron: I hope your child wakes up.
Oswalt: I hope your inner child gets colic and snot-shits on your soul.
Maron: Shut up.
Maron: Hey, could you call me? I need a long winded wordy explanation of something simple.
Oswalt: Just listen to the first 10 minutes of any episode of your podcast.
Maron: Oh, shit. I’m down. I’m hit.
Oswalt: It’s my insomnia-fueled rage. I defeated 10mg of melatonin tonight. I’m not responsible for any of this madness…
Maron: Seriously, though. I would like to hear you struggle to talk about you child in a non hacky way for 15 minutes.
Oswalt: Yikes — that was way too wordy, huh?
Maron: I think this calls for a baby bit with a Knight of Malta and a gravy reference.
Oswalt: Amateur. Throw in a Shelby Downard rant & a Crass lyric if you want to play on my level. Plebeian.
Oswalt: Let’s stop this bickering. We both know where this ends. I don’t think our followers want two Thanksgivings.
Maron: No, man. You’re a genius. I will believe now you when you leave me that message again.
Maron: King Kill 33 degrees and I’ve got Geins pinky nail in a pill jar.
Oswalt: “Gein’s fingernail”. So now you’re using props? Boat act.
Maron: Boat act? You’ve had 12 different types of glasses since I’ve known you, Elton.
Oswalt: One pair of glasses for every 2 Maron goatee styles. That’s how I roll.
Oswalt: Was that last typo due to rage or you approaching 50?
Maron: Make fun of my new dyslexia. Real nice.
Oswalt: We’re 16 minutes past the wall of “nice.” I used up all my “nice” about you to Rolling Stone this morning.
Maron: Aw, thanks, pal.
Oswalt: I really meant it, too. Wait — are you trying to get me to drop my guard?
Maron: You okay? What’s going on? You should take another Melatonin and jerk off while your wife and child sleep. Works.
Oswalt: I would, but every porn site I visit has a “Slow Loading Due to Maron Usage” warning.
Maron: I finished hours ago. You should stop copying my porn choices stalker.
Maron: Lets stop. You won. Does that make you feel big?
Oswalt: It makes me feel sleepy, so mission accomplished. Enjoy Bonnaroo. You’ll be the C3PO to the hippie Ewoks.
Maron: Thanks! Glad to help out. Love, Marc
Oswalt: To sleep. G’night, folks! And thank you @marcmaron, my one-man flock of demon-sheep.
Maron: Gnite, man.