Norm Macdonald: Me Doing Standup

A dry, profane stand-up set that ambles through grumpy nostalgia and personal gripes with a shaggy, self-deprecating charm.

A lone comic on a bare stage, turning bleak, absurd thoughts into slow, uncomfortable laughs.

Loose, deadpan celebrity chat that drifts into odd tangents and awkward silences, funny in a shaggy, unpredictable way.

A deadpan, meandering stand-up set that feels like a private, bittersweet farewell, followed by a warm, funny remembrance from friends.

A sharp, uncomfortable stand-up set that keeps you laughing while it quietly stares down death and the mess of the world.

A mellow, low-key hour of stand-up that ambles along gently, drawing quiet laughs from everyday absurdities rather than big punchlines.

A fast-talking stand-up set that rewards attention with dense wordplay and wry, sardonic jabs at the news.

A loose, shaggy hangout where deadpan jokes and awkward silences make you feel like you're in on a private, absurd club.

A breezy, joke-dense hangout where petty grievances and absurd coincidences escalate into hilariously trivial disasters.

A blunt, gravelly stand-up hour that rumbles along on laconic outrage and everyday grumbles, funnier the more he commits to being annoyed.

A loose, filthy hour of stand-up that coasts on the comic's shaggy charisma and easy crowd work.

A furious, funny rant that feels like watching a man vent at full volume for over an hour.