Public Investing Representative (2:30)

Visit Wells Fargo.com autographjourney Terms apply.

Poshmark Female Voice (2:36)

We all have different styles.

Poshmark Male Voice (2:38)

I may be into Levi's and you may be into Fendi or Miu Miu.

Poshmark Female Voice (2:41)

But we all should be into poshmark.com right?

Poshmark Male Voice (2:45)

Because we can all find exactly what we want to fit our style.

Poshmark Female Voice (2:48)

Poshmark has millions of new and pre lived pieces. Vintage, luxury, men's, women's, children's, everything from Carhartt to coach.

Poshmark Male Voice (2:56)

Download the Poshmark app and sign up with code podcast10 and get $10 off your first purchase.

Ryan Seacrest (3:05)

This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information.

Jake Brennan (3:12)

Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. This is a story about a ch raised in a brothel who went on to become one of the biggest stars in the world. It's about a stabbing, a shootout, a drug bust. It's about a man on fire. This is a story about Richard Pryor, a comedian who made some of the funniest films of all time. A man who played his role on stage as a stand up like a great musician would play his instrument. And great musicians of course make great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show. That wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called this man's on fire mk2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Funky Town by Lips Incorporated. And why would I play you that specific slice of puffy parted cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on June 9, 1980. And that was the day that Richard Pryor nearly died after he set himself on fire, winding up in the hospital covered in third degree burns. On this episode, stabbing, shooting, burning, freebasing and one of the greatest to ever do it. Richard Pryor. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. Richard Pryor was in pain. Most of his body was burned. The worst of it, a third degree burns. They were on his chest, his back, his arms, his neck and his face. They oozed pus and blood. The doc gave him a one in three chance of survival. And if he did survive, Richard Pryor would have to face something else besides the pain. He would have to face the fear. The fear that after years of searching from Peoria to Germany, Youngstown to Pittsburgh, Vegas to Berkeley and New York to Los Angeles, he had finally found him. The real Richard Pryor and that guy scared the shit out of him. They all said that Richard Pryor was fearless. That he was a pioneer when it came to what could be said on stage or what could be written for the screen. That after the paradigm shift ushered in by groundbreaking black comedians, including Dick Gregory and Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor was a new kind of comic for a new age. But even Richard Pryor knew that there was a fine line between being fearless and being and being incapable of living in moderation. And being incapable of moderation was what got him here. Covered in third degree burns. Fearing that the real Richard Pryor was about to be revealed to the world, that guy, the real him, he stepped right out of a wall at Richard's home. He stood there in his underwear, looking at Richard, looking back at him like a reflection in a mirror. And then he said he was the devil. Which meant they were both the devil, since Richard and this thing were one and the same. Are you really me? Richard asked him, just to make sure. Yes, I am you, it replied. And then it disappeared back into the wall. At first, Richard wrote it off as the state of his mind. It was just a hallucination, paranoia. Night was day, up was down, and there were no more friends and family anymore, just people in the walls and on the other side of the windows, out to steal his money and maybe even his mind. That was 100% cocaine talking, and I don't mean a couple of lines shared at some chic industry party. I'm talking rocks of pure coke heated up with a Bic lighter until the vapors start to rise and you just breathe in deep. I'm talking freebase, just like Dirty Dick taught him. Dirty Dick had been dealing Richard the good shit for years and hadn't steered him wrong yet. So Richard steered himself right into an empty room and locked the door behind him. Fuck that other guy on the wall. Richard hit the pipe and didn't stop. The binge lasted for what, two, three days? He dipped a cotton swab in rum and lit it with his lighter. This was his torch. He didn't want to use an actual lighter to heat up the pipe or else he'd be inhaling lighter fluid. The rum made it less toxic. Thus was the logic of a junkie in the throes of addiction. But this rum was 151 proof, and Richard Pryor was capital fucked. Fucked up, that is. Before long, the rum was everywhere. It was all over him. And all it took was one flick of that big letter, one spark for it all to go up in flames. Richard Pryor literally set himself on fire. Just like that monk did protesting the Vietnam War. But Richard Pryor was no monk, Jack. Richard Pryor didn't abstain. He indulged in everything. Pussy, booze, cocaine. Cocaine, man, that shit be fucking with you. That shit brought on an entirely different person when you were on it. Or maybe it was the person you truly were on the inside that finally emerged. Like that apparition from inside the wall, the person you hid from everyone else. And as much as you want to deny it, that person is real. But just what was real? Peoria was real. If it played in Peoria, it could play anywhere. Or so that old vaudeville saying went. They called Peoria the Model City. But as Richard Pryor himself said later in his stand up act, the ones calling his hometown the Model City were the ones keeping Peoria's black residents in their place. In the 1940s and 1950s, that place was light years from the bullshit family life that played out on Father Knows Best. Sitcoms like that were science fiction. Over on North Washington street in the black part of town, Peoria was populated with pimps, drunks, bootleggers and sex workers. Richard's grandfather owned the local pool hall. His grandmother ran the town brothel. His own mother worked at the brothel. And so as a kid, Richard Pryor saw some shit. He saw a baby in a shoebox deader than a motherfucker. He saw a man who lost a knife fight struggling to push his guts back into his stomach. He saw his own mother in bed with a john. He also saw his mother get hit by his father. And that only happened twice. After the first time, she told him, okay, motherfucker, don't hit me no more. And after the second time, she didn't need words. She took one look at Richard's father standing in front of her pooh, bearing it, wearing nothing but a T shirt and underwear, and she swung her long fingernails at his crotch. Richard's father screamed. Blood ran down his leg. She ripped his nut sack right open. Yes, that actually happened. Look it up. In Richard Pryor's Peoria, this is how you handled your shit. You did it fast and maybe with your fingernails, even better with a knife or a gun. When some guy talked shit to Richard's grandfather in the family tavern, a place called the Famous Door, Richard's father drew a pistol and emptied every last round and his ass and that motherfucker hit the floor, bleeding and screaming. But he wasn't dead. He dragged his bullet written body across the floor, pulled out a knife and sliced Richard's father right across his leg. And between that and the torn nut sack, dude was good and fucked up for the rest of his life. And that wasn't the life Richard wanted to live, though. Work your ass to the bone in the pool hall, in the cat house, or the slaughterhouse every day, only to get shot up when you were busy trying to get fucked up at the end of a long night. Fuck that. We joined the army and you get the hell out of Peoria. But even in the service, even in Germany, in Europe, where the world was supposed to be enlightened and free, shit was still the same. 150 bars in Kaisersladen, and only three of them allowed black people to walk through the door. And that shit surprised him. What didn't surprise him was that when his unit was taking in some R and R and watching a melodrama about race and class in America, one of his fellow soldiers, a white guy, laughed a little too hard at the wrong part. And while you could take Richard out of Peoria, he sure as hell couldn't take Peoria out of Richard. Richard pulled a switchblade. He stuck it in the white soldier's back, deep. And then he pulled it out. And the blade glistened with blood. And Richard stabbed him again and again and again. He stabbed that dude six or seven times, each time hoping it would be the final blow and that this backwoods peckerhead honky would just fucking die. But just like the guy Richard's father shot back in the whorehouse in Peoria, this kid lived. And they tossed Richard in a jail cell. He spent his final days as an enlisted man on a cold cement floor. He received the mercy of a base commander more concerned with his own retirement than actually dealing with Richard's mutinous ass. And then he received an early discharge and he was shipped back home. It was the first time Richard Pryor cheated death. But it wouldn't be the last.

Ryan Seacrest (12:51)

Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons. And Safeway is stock up savings time now through March 31st. Spring in for store wide deals and earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible items from Hunts, Nerds, Pillsbury, Lowry's, Breyers, Quaker and Culture Pop. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of savings when you shop in store or online for easy drive up and go pick up or delivery restrictions apply. See website for full terms and conditions.

Public Investing Representative (13:23)

Support for the show comes from Public, the investing platform for those who take it seriously. On Public you can build a multi asset portfolio of stocks, bonds, options, crypto and now generated assets which allow you to turn any idea into an investable index with AI. It all starts with your prompt. From renewable energy companies with high free cash flow to semiconductor suppliers growing revenue over 20% year over year, you can literally type any prompt and put the AI to work. It screens thousands of stocks, builds a one of a kind index and lets you back test it against the S&P 500. Then you can invest in a few clicks. Generated assets are like ETFs with infinite possibilities, completely customizable and based on your thesis, not someone else's. Go to public.com podcast and earn an uncapped 1% bonus when you transfer your portfolio. That's public.com podcast paid for by Public Investing Brokerage Services by Open to the Public Investing Inc. Member FINRA and SIPC Advisory services by Public Advisors llc. SEC Registered Advisors. Generated Assets is an interactive analysis tool. Output is for informational purposes only and is not an investment recommendation or advice. Complete disclosures available at public.com disclosures let's talk personal Style.

Poshmark Male Voice (14:25)

Are you a classic jeans and tee minimalist? A Louis Vuitton lover? Or do you like a little bit of both?

Poshmark Female Voice (14:31)

Depending on the vibe, whatever your fashion mood, you can find what feels like you on Poshmark.

Poshmark Male Voice (14:36)

With millions of new and pre loved pieces, Poshmark is your one stop style destination. From everyday wardrobe staples and to vintage gems and luxury labels. Inter Reformation? Got it. Carhartt Got that too. From designer bags to streetwear, it's all there.

Poshmark Female Voice (14:52)

Men's?

Poshmark Male Voice (14:52)

Yes.

Poshmark Female Voice (14:53)

Women's? Absolutely. Kids? You bet.

Poshmark Male Voice (14:56)

And the best part? You're shopping real closets from real people with real style. It's like grading your most fashionable friend's

Poshmark Female Voice (15:02)

wardrobe if you had thousands of fashionable friends. Plus, every item over $500 goes through Poshmark's authenticity application process so you can shop high end with total confidence. Ready to refresh your closet? Download the Poshmark app and sign up with code podcast10 and get $10 off your first purchase.

Poshmark Male Voice (15:20)

Go ahead, find your next favorite thing.

LifeLock Narrator (15:24)

It's tax season and by now I know we're all a bit tired of numbers. But here's an important one you need to hear. $16 billion. That's how much money in refunds the IRS flagged for possible identity fraud. Here's another one in four honest, hard working, taxpaying Americans has been a victim of identity theft. But it's not all grim news. Lifelock monitors millions of data points per second for your personal information and alerts you to threats you could easily miss on your own. If your identity is stolen, LifeLock's US based restoration specialist will fix it, backed by another good number, the million dollar protection package. In fact, restoration is guaranteed or your money back. Don't face identity theft and financial losses alone. There's strength in numbers with Lifelock identity theft protection. For tax season and beyond, visit lifelock.com iheart and save up to 40% your first year. That's 40% off@lifelock.com iheart terms apply.

Capella University Narrator (16:24)

You've never been one to settle, stand down or stand still. You're a lifelong learner, energized by excellence. There's a fire inside you you can't ignore. You've got competition to outrun, momentum to build on, and your own high standards to meet. Stop now. Not a chance. At Capella University we help you catch what you're chasing because you've always had the drive. Now go earn the degree. Capella University. What can't you do? Visit capella.edu to learn more.

Jake Brennan (16:57)

Richard Pryor was a born performer. He'd been putting on a show since he was just a kid. And ever since he was a kid, there was incentive to perform. First, it was the reward of the performance itself. His elementary school teacher cut him a deal if he could actually get to school on time every day. Then each Friday afternoon, he could perform a stand up set in front of the class. The next incentive was laughter. Tasted sweet, like revenge. But you could get it without violence. And now, in 1967, at 26 years old, the incentive for Richard Pryor was money. Get on stage, say something funny, make him laugh, get paid, and get the fuck out. Didn't matter if Richard's stand up at the time was a faint echo of Bill Cosby's shtick. He got paid, didn't he? But as much of a born performer as Richard Pryor was, as much as he learned on the stages of Greenwich Village and beyond, it was always that occasional tough crowd, like the one at United States Customs on the Mexican border. The customs agent didn't have a laugh or a smile or he didn't say that dude just looked at Richard from behind his Ray Bans. One long look as Richard slowly inched his car closer and closer to the checkpoint. There was no turning around now, no take backs. Richard was in this and he was he pulled up to the checkpoint and applied the brake. The agent got close, craned his Neck to look in the back of the car. What were you doing in Mexico? Just visiting. Seeing the sights. It was good. Real good. Muy bueno. Richard didn't say anything about the Tijuana brothel he visited, or the women he fucked, or the tequila that flowed like an honorary body fluid. And the agent kept on with that long look. And then he pointed to an area off to the side. Pull over. Richard Pryor had been in Tijuana because he was running away. Not unlike he had run away from Peoria to the army all those years ago. But now he was running from responsibility. His girlfriend was nine months pregnant and she wanted Richard to commit. She wanted Richard to settle down and start a family. He'd already done that once before. Didn't end well. He didn't feel like doing it again. Not right now. So instead, Richard jumped in a car and just drove. Getting over the border was easy enough. Coming back, that's another thing altogether. There wasn't a joke or a well rehearsed routine that was going to get him out of having his car searched. He didn't even try. The customs agent poked around and found a little grass. Alright, that was Richard's fault. He should have smoked the rest of it before he hit the road. And the agent examined it with his eyes and decided it was an ounce. An ounce. Damn, there's barely enough to roll a joint. An ounce is ass. Running away from his problems was proving to be a less than brilliant plan for Richard Pryor. Thankfully, business was booming. He was making that money. So his wallet was fat and he could afford to pay his own bail. So maybe 1967 would be all right after all. 1967 was the year Richard met Paul Mooney, the man who would become his co writer and one of his closest friends. It was also the year he met Dirty Dick, the dealer with the top shelf stuff, the cocaine that Richard was dishing out one $200 a day for. And 1967 was also the year that he had the epiphany. It happened in Vegas. Dean Martin and those other Rat Pack dudes, half drunk, laughing in the audience. Richard up on stage, telling jokes, getting laughs, getting paid. He had an appearance on Ed Sullivan to thank for this opportunity. Or maybe it was the Carson show. But he knew it was all an act. Literally, the more he went through the motions, the more jokes didn't resonate with him. They weren't about his life. What was it people said? Write what you know. Richard Pryor wasn't writing what he knew. And what did he know? He Knew Peoria. He knew junkies and drunks, pimps and pushers. He knew sex. He knew pain. And he knew what it was like to be a black man navigating a world of ignorance and fear. The lights on the Vegas stage were bright and they burned into his eyeballs. They flooded his peripheral vision. Soon all he could see was the blinding light stopped him dead in his tracks. Must have looked like a goddamn idiot just standing there. The hell am I doing here? He realized after the fact that he had actually said that line out loud. It was a rhetorical question, and he already knew the answer. He turned around and walked off the stage. They told him he'd never work in Vegas again. And you know what? That was just fine with him. He didn't want to be that guy. He wanted to be Richard Pryor. The real, real Richard Pryor. They weren't going to believe their ears. He would shock them. He would make them piss themselves laughing until their slacks were soaked. And not just because what he said was funny or because it was provocative, but because it was real. Just like Miles. Miles Davis did whatever the hell he wanted, but whatever the hell Miles Davis wanted to do was 100% the opposite of what everyone else wanted him to do. You think Columbia Records wanted Miles Davis doing what he did? No fucking way, man. But Miles did. Miles, period. No two ways around it. And when Miles Davis and Richard Pryor did some shows together in New York City, Miles flipped the script. Those shows weren't your typical shows with a comic warming up the crowd before the musician took the stage for a headlining set. Miles told Richard, hey, man, I open for you. And that was far out. That was Miles Davis giving Richard Pryor his blessing. That was Miles saying, I see what you're doing. I hear you. I feel you. But just as Richard Pryor's realness was having a profound effect on his career and on the evolution of American comedy, it was making everything else in his life worse. Every year was some new bullshit. He was arrested again for getting in a fight with the guy working at the desk at his apartment building. That dude sued Richard for $75,000 and won. And then there were the girlfriends and the ex girlfriends and the wives and the ex ex wives. They were piling up. Some were coming after Richard for child support. Some were coming for blood. Some lawyered up. Some had warrants. And as the 1960s turned into the 1970s, Richard Pryor was a wanted man. But Richard Pryor wanted something else. He wanted to do more cocaine. He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to. He wanted to unpack all the dark corners of his life, all those junkies, pissed pimps and scary family members of his past, his grandmother, his mom, all the dope he was doing and the sex he was having. Get it all out of his head, get it down on paper and transform it all into a comedy juggernaut that had never been seen before. To do all that, he had to get away. So in 1971, Richard Pryor once again got behind the wheel of a car, this time with his pal Paul Mooney at his side, and he escaped away from his obligations, away from the soul sucking traps of places like Las Vegas and away from the people trying to catch him, the people trying to stop him. And Richard Pryor didn't stop running until he reached Berkeley, California, that freaky deaky place on the edge of the world where the Black Panthers, bra burners, musicians and poets were all conspiring to do whatever it took to feel free. We'll be right back after this. Word, word, word.

Ryan Seacrest (24:04)

Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway. It's stock up Savings time now through March 31st. Spring in for storewide deals that earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible items from Hunts, Nerds, Pillsbury, Lowry's, Breyers, Quaker and Culture Pop. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of savings when you shop in store or online for easy drive up and go pickup or delivery restrictions apply. See website for full terms and conditions.

Public Investing Representative (24:35)

Support for the show comes from Public, the investing platform for those who take it seriously. On Public you can build a multi asset portfolio of stocks, bonds, options, crypto and now generated assets which allow you to turn any idea into an investable index with AI. It all starts with your prompt. From referral renewable energy companies with high free cash flow to semiconductor suppliers growing revenue over 20% year over year. You can literally type any prompt and put the AI to work. It screens thousands of stocks, builds a one of a kind index and lets you back test it against the S&P 500. Then you can invest in a few clicks. Generated assets are like ETFs with infinite possibilities, completely customizable and based on your thesis, not someone else's. Go to public.com podcast and earn an uncapped 1 bonus when you transfer your portfolio. That's public.com podcast paid for by Public Investing Brokerage Services by open to the Public Investing Inc. Member FINRA and SIPC Advisory Services by Public Advisors, llc. SEC Registered Advisor Generated Assets is an interactive analysis tool. Output is for informational purposes only and is not an investment recommendation or advice. Complete disclosures available at public.com disclosures let's talk personal style.

Poshmark Male Voice (25:38)

Are you a classic jeans and tee minimalist? A Louis Vuitton lover? Or do you like a little bit of both? Depending on the vibe?

Poshmark Female Voice (25:44)

Whatever your fashion mood, you can find what feels like you on Poshmark.

Poshmark Male Voice (25:48)

With millions of new and pre loved pieces, Poshmark is your one stop style destination. From everyday wardrobe staples to vintage gems and luxury labels into reformation. Got it. Carhartt got that too. From designer bags to streetwear, it's all there.

Poshmark Female Voice (26:04)

Men's? Yes. Women's? Absolutely.

Danielle Robe (26:06)

Kids?

Poshmark Female Voice (26:07)

You bet.

Poshmark Male Voice (26:08)

And the best part? You're shopping real closets from real people with real style. It's like braiding your most fashionable friend's

Poshmark Female Voice (26:14)

wardrobe if you had thousands of fashionable friends. Plus, every item over $500 goes through Poshmark's authentication process so you can shop high end with total confidence. Ready to refresh your closet? Download the Poshmark app and sign up with code podcast10 and get $10 off your first purchase.

Poshmark Male Voice (26:32)

Go ahead, find your next favorite thing.

Capella University Narrator (26:36)

You've never been one to settle. Stand down or stand still. You're a lifelong learner energized by excellence. There's a fire inside you you can't ignore. You've got competition to outrun, momentum to build on, and your own high standards to meet. Stop now. Not a chance. At Capella University, we help you catch what you're chasing because you've always had the drive. Now go earn the the degree. Capella University what can't you do? Visit capella.edu to learn more.

Danielle Robe (27:06)

This is Danielle Robe from Bookmarked by Reese's Book Club. Nothing compares to the anticipation of something new. A new start, a new year, a new home, or a new car. When it's time to get a new car, where do you start? Car shopping can honestly be a little overwhelming, but it should be fun. Buying your next car should be exciting. And it can be if you remember one thing. Cars.com cars.com has the tools and expert advice to help you figure out what vehicle is right for you. Their advanced search filters allow you to explore 2 million new and used cars so that you can find the perfect car. The site is so easy to use. Looking for an electric vehicle with a third row and leather seats for easy cleanup, Cars.com has you covered. A variety of tools and badges are used to help shoppers understand the price of a vehicle and and find the best deal. And every review is written by a real person reflecting a real life experience, so don't take any chances. Do car shopping the easy way. Start your search with cars.com where to next?

Jake Brennan (28:14)

The gun was on the nightstand inside his Northridge home.357 Magnum. Big motherfucker. It wasn't small like his.380 automatic. It wasn't unwieldy like his shotgun or useless like his antique flintlock. This was the showpiece. This was the what the fuck did you say? Gun. Richard Pryor picked it up. This was the piece. Richard waved around when it was clear he was losing another argument with his wife. You gonna shoot me? Then shoot me, his wife told him. Richard pointed it away from her. He didn't actually want to shoot her, which didn't mean he didn't want to shoot something. She told him to put the gun down. Fuck you, he said. And then he told his wife to round up her friends and get the hell out of his house. It was just minutes into New Year's Day, 1978. The party that Richard Pryor and his now third wife were hosting had gone as flat as day old champagne. What had started out as a celebration was now all out domestic warfare. Moments ago, Richard and his wife had shared a midnight kiss and now they were at each other's throats. Didn't help that they were drunk and high on some of Dirty Dick's supply. Richard decided that his wife and her friends weren't moving fast enough. He pointed the Magnum at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The gun fired and the bullet blew apart the $10,000 Tiffany chandelier hanging from above, and the women moved faster now. Outside, they piled into a Buick. Richard got into his Mercedes, turned the key in the ignition, put it in drive, and then he drove his straight into the Buick. Over and over. The women screamed. They ditched the Buick. Richard followed suit and stepped out of the Mercedes. He didn't know what his wife's next move would be. Maybe she'd push him aside and take the Benz, get the fuck out, and maybe it would be the last time. Maybe she wouldn't come back. Richard didn't care. But all the same, he didn't want her getting in that car. Not because she'd leave, because if she did, then she'd be win and Richard Pryor wasn't about to lose another argument. That so he jumped in between his wife and the Mercedes, pulled back the hammer on the Magnum, pointed it at one of the tires and pulled the trigger. A few years earlier, before he had a house in Northridge, back when he was making his great escape to Berkeley with Paul Mooney, Richard felt like he'd found a new lease on life, creatively and personally. Here in the Bay Area, hippies were protesting the war. Black people like him were declaring that they were somebody. He started hanging out with freedom fighters like Angela Davis and Huey Newton, with poets like Al Young and Ishmael Reed. Intellectualism didn't have to be a dirty word. You could be smart and cuss, like one of the women who worked at his grandmother's brothel. The two weren't mutually exclusive. That was the lesson, along with the realization that he had a life's worth of material, material to draw from. A lesson he took with him when he moved down to Los Angeles, it was all about being fearless. There it was again, that word fearless, the word that everyone was using to describe him. In reality, Richard Pryor just didn't give a anymore. He didn't give a shit that his material was obscene, that it was profane. But hey, selling over a million copies of a live comedy record, holding down the number one spot on the Billboard R B chart for four straight weeks for a live comedy record, and then winning a Grammy award for a comedy record that he could give a shit about. Because now he was in demand and because now the money was rolling in more than it ever had, which meant more money for Courvoisier cocaine. But whether it was getting profound, getting laughs, getting famous, or getting high, Richard Pryor did nothing in moderation. Which was exactly why Mel Brooks hired Richard Pryor to help write a script for his next film. A western satire about a black railroad worker who's appointed sheriff of an all white town. Mel Brooks wanted this movie to not just be funny, to be outrageously, shockingly funny. The jokes, the language, the lines that were crossed, the whole thing had to be no holds barred. Blazing Saddles was a perfect assignment for Richard Pryor. He threw himself into the script he wrote with utter abandonment. He helped create not just one of the funniest Mel Brooks movies, but one of the funniest American comedies of all time. And he did it while under the impression that he, Richard Pryor, would also play the lead role of Bart, the black sheriff. Richard often acted out lines and scenes in the writers room. Everyone involved in the movie could see it. He was the obvious choice. But at the last minute, the studio revealed that they thought otherwise. They clean that Richard lacked acting experience. But there was something else. His reputation was equally lacking. His drug use, his run ins with the law, the simple fact that he was, by 1974, one of the most controversial people in Hollywood. Warner Brothers took the safe bet for a movie that was all about taking huge risks. And they cast Richard's friend Cleavon Little as Bart instead. Richard walked away from the experience confused and disappointed and more than a little mistrustful of the powers that be in Los Angeles. He felt used. Used by Mel Brooks, used by the studio. He wanted to prove them all wrong. That not only was he not an unreliable cokehead, but that he could act. And not just in a Mel Brooks satire. He took a lead role in Blue Collar, the directorial debut by Paul Schrader, then best known for his screenplay for Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver. Along with Harvey Keitel, Richard Pryor played a disgruntled autoworker who decides to rob his union local. It was a role unlike anything he played before, and he never did anything like it ever again because it was painful. You had to look inward to act in a drama like that, go deep into the recesses of your own mind. Not that that was different from comedy, but at least the payoff in comedy was a laugh. There was a release. When comedy hits, Richard once said, it's as close to flying as man gets. When you're on and rolling, nothing comes close. Not cocaine, not even pussy. Capital A. Acting wasn't pussy or cocaine, and as sure as wasn't comedy. Richard was exhausted when the shoot was over, just like Blazing Saddles, he walked away from Blue Collar confused, disappointed and frustrated. The movie didn't go anywhere. Critics loved, admit it, but critics didn't pay the bills. So in order to not feel much of anything, Richard did more cocaine. And then he did some more. And by New year's morning in 1978, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. And honestly, he didn't give much of a fucking. The second bullet hit another tire. The tire hissed aggressively. Richard Pryor reloaded the Magnum. He aimed it at the Mercedes again and fired. This car, this marriage. He reloaded and fired again. And by the time the police got there, the car was shot to. They took Richard downtown. Assault with a deadly weapon. Pretty soon, wife number three would be ex wife number three. But the. But not before wife number three's friend, sporting a new neck brace, walked into LA Superior Court with the story of how Richard orchestrated a, quote, unprovoked attack when he chased them from his house in the early hours of New Year's Day, she sued him to the tune of $17 million. If she gets it, Richard said, it meaning his money, I'll marry. On June 9, 1980, Richard Pryor's addiction to freebasing cocaine reached a harrowing new low. That was the day he set himself on fire. Neighbors watched as he ran down the street screaming, his body engulfed in flames. It took six weeks of skin grasp, plastic surgery, and physical therapy, and even then, it was still a long, hard road to recovery. On July 24, during his first interview, after being rushed to the hospital, Richard denied that he was freebasing cocaine when the accident happened. In this version of the story, someone accidentally spilled some of that high test rum on him, and when he went to innocently light a cigarette, he was on fire. But that wasn't the truth. That was a story meant to hide the real Richard Pryor from the public. Years later, in his 1995 autobiography, Prior Convictions, Richard described how he had smoked so much rock that day that he actually ran out. He was alone, miserable, afraid. He just needed to get higher. To smoke more. Cocaine was always the answer, no matter the question. But with no drugs in the house, what was he going to do? He started to laugh, and then he was crying. He needed to do something, something to make him feel less. Feelings. Feelings hurt. Feelings dragged you down. Feelings took you back to places like Peoria and to jail cells in Germany. He grabbed a bottle of booze and dumped the entire thing on himself. He was still alone, but he no longer felt scared. He stood in silence and waited for his moment of Zen. And then the door to the room flung open. His cousin stood in the doorway. He saw that Richard was holding his Bic lighter in his hand and that he was soaked. Wait, Richard, what the fuck are you doing? Don't be afraid, Richard said. And then he flicked the lighter. His body was swallowed by fire. And by Richard Pryor's own account, that accident was no accident. And by the account of his fifth wife and widow, Jennifer Lee, it was very deliberate. In a 2019 documentary about Richard's life, Jennifer Lee said that he had tried to take his own life. But instead of dying, he lived. He lived to become front page news for all the wrong reasons. He lived to become a cheap punchline. He lived to make a bunch of bullshit movies, cringy comedies like the Toy that I actually Love, by the way, pointless franchise, cash ins like Superman 3. He lived to make money. And in fact, that's why he kept saying yes to the movie roles for the money. Just like back when he was another funny guy on a Vegas stage with pocket full of stupid gags. Fuck our this wasn't Berkeley in 1971. This was Hollywood in the me decade. Who cares if most of the movies he made were disposable? He got paid, didn't he? Those disposable comedies also served as a cover for the real Richard Pryor. The one who couldn't stop. The one who, even after his near death experience, couldn't shake the habit. Even when he got ms, he still chased pussy and cocaine from the confines of his wound wheelchair right up until the day he died in 2005, a heart attack at the age of 65. Zero moderation those who knew him best weren't surprised in the least. As his great friend and co writer Paul Mooney once said, Richard is a junkie first and a genius second. Always. It's a disgraceful truth about one of our greatest comics, Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. All right, hope you dug this episode. Apple Podcast listeners, make sure you have auto downloads turned on so you never miss an episode of Disgraceland. This week's Question of the week is which comedian from your childhood cracked you up the most and why? Hit me up voicemail and text 617-906-6638 let me know. I can also be reached on Instagram, facebook x and disgracelandpodmail.com leave a review for the show on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Win some free merch all right, here comes some credits. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com if you're listening, as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland Ad Free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special awesome audio collections and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla

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