the flash drive full of p*rn that changed my life
PART I: My favorite class
I graduated high school with an unweighted 2.37 GPA. “Unweighted” means that it takes into consideration AP or Honors classes.
So, in reality, if you included those into my scoore, my weighted GPA would be 2.37.
Why is there no difference? Because I never took a single honors or AP class.
This is my cute way of saying I was not a great student, and never actually cared to be one. Most classes didn’t interest me, and I was too busy pursuing my career as a very mid football player. It takes a lot of work to go through the motions at practice!
One class, though, was different.
It was Mr. Kinberg’s Speech Class, something I signed up for to fill a prerequisite. Mr. Kinberg was a legend on campus, and a teacher every older student recommended I take. It didn’t hurt that the quarterback a year ahead of me, Connor, was also joining the class. Connor was one of our top players, later became a successful model, and now makes awesome handmade furniture.
You want to hate a guy this perfect, but look at those eyes! and those nips!
Getting to be closer with him and putting myself in a position to one day make eye contact with some of the girls he hung out with was reason enough for me to sign up to give some speeches.
The class quickly turned into one of my favorites. Besides Connor, the other students were mostly theatre kids, who I had little interaction with before. One girl in the class went on to become a very successful Broadway performer, and another went on to be a successful actor and improviser. I loved being in speech class with these kids, because it was like I got my own, little theatre production from them every class. Years later, I moved to New York City to try and make it on Broadway myself, so its safe to say these kids left a last impression on me. This is a story for another day, though.
Because today, it is time to reveal the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. And it all unravelled in front of the model quarterback, the Broadway chorus girl, and eventually, the entire school.
PART 2: The Flash Drive
Every week in speech class, we had to prepare a different speech, in a different assigned style. For example, one week was wedding speeches, the next week was acting monologues, the next a debate with a classmate.
This week’s theme was “informative”, where we had to teach the class a subject of our choosing, and have accompanying visual aids, like a PowerPoint presentation. Growing up, my dad would tell me stories of how members of our family came from the mean streets of Brooklyn, many having ties to the Jewish Mob.
Perfect. A speech that will not only let me teach the class an interesting topic, but also let them know that I am a total badass.
I worked diligently all week on the speech, and the PowerPoint: adding all of the coolest photos of gangsters and dead bodies.
After spending all night working on the speech, I saved my documents and PowerPoint. I then opened a drawer in my living room console, and uploaded the documents onto a flash drive that I found buried underneath some papers.
This proved to be one of the most costly decisions of my life, and I didn’t even know it.
The day of the presentation came, and I got dropped off by my babysitter, LJ. Yes, at the age of 16, I had a babysitter who was 18. If you’re soooo interested about it, comment on this post and I’ll write about it. Otherwise, shut up.
So, LJ drops me off, and I go into Speech class, flash drive in hand. The day’s proceedings of speeches were to go as follows:
- One person would give their speech.
- As that person finished, they would hold a 5 minute Q&A, which would allow the next speech giver to go behind them and set up their PowerPoint.
- When the Q&A was over, the next speech giver was ready to go.
As Rachel, one of the theatre kids, finished her presentation on space (or some nerdy shit like that), I began setting up my presentation on Jews (obviously way less nerdy).
This, of course, was saved on my flash drive.
I plugged the flash drive into the computer, and a few moments later this little icon appeared:
I should have heeded this very obvious warning. Alas, I clicked.
As usual, the icon opened to reveal the different documents inside. But this is where things took a turn —
There were hundreds of pictures of naked women.
(haha that would be funny if I hyperlinked actual porn right here)
I began scrolling thru the different files, and there were so many pictures or porn that I became erect (jk).
Being Rachel was finishing her speech, I didn’t want to create a scene, so I quietly called over Connor to show him what had happened. He begins laughing. Creating a scene.
Little did I know, an entire scene was well underway.
You see, the computer was hooked up to SmartBoard, an amazing and (then) new piece of technology that let a teacher display whatever was on their computer screen, to a large, whiteboard-type projector screen.
With a Smartboard, students can see whatever the teacher was lecturing about; maybe a science lesson, maybe a snippet from a textbook about a tricky math equation, or in this case, pictures of hundreds of images of porn from Morgan’s flash drive.
Every. single. image. from the flash drive was being broadcast to the entire class.
The Broadway star, the quarterback, even Rachel, who by the way, was still doing her Q&A (which was unfortunately interrupted by tits) stared in awe as the tits flashed on screen. There are few cases in this world where tits are not awesome.
This was one of those cases.
At this point, our teacher Mr. Kinberg, made his way to the computer stand, as Rachel and the students struggled to keep from busting out with laughter. While we scrolled through the flash drive, as pictures accumulated, so did more questions. These questions might be the same ones crossing your mind right now, and might include the following:
- “Who’s flash drive was this?”
- “Why would someone keep JPG’s of naked women on a flash drive? Just in case these need access to porn when they don’t have WiFI?”
- “Does this have anything to do with Morgan’s current, crippling porn addiction?”
I think I have some answers to these questions, but let me tell you a little more about this story, and we can come to some conclusions together later on.
Eventually, Mr. Kinberg and I found our way to the bottom of the files, where my PowerPoint on the Jewish Mob was ready to be opened.
As I stood there, porn in hand, I realized something:
“I still have to give my speech”
After easily the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me happened, I had to give a speech about a completely random topic to the exact group of people who saw this exact embarrassing moment, roughly 20 seconds after the moment happened.
It’s like having to give a speech in your underwear, while standing in front of hundreds of pictures of woman out of their underwear.
I thought maybe I could skip this presentation. Maybe put up someone else as I gather my thoughts. As I turn to Mr. Kinberg to see if he would give me mercy, all he said was, “Good luck”, and giggled back to desk, waiting to see what train-wreck of a speech I was about to give.
Cruel? yes. Did it lead to an absolutely amazing display of courage where I overcame the embarrassment from my peers to give the greatest speech ever on the Jewish Mob?
No.
It is already hard enough for a 16 year old to give a speech in front of other 16 year olds, but it is much harder when they are already laughing at you about the assholes you just showed them (I don’t mean to say the woman in the photos were bad people, I’m sure they are lovely. I’m referencing that their actual assholes were visible).
As I made my way through riveting stories of mobsters like Bugsy Siegeal and Bluejaw Magoon, it was apparent that no one cared about my speech. My quarterback even heckled me in the middle of it.
I forgot what he said, but it was probably something like, “The girls I talk to will NEVER make eye contact with you because of this! Loser!”
Now, as a stand up comedian, I’m pretty well equipped to deal with hecklers (usually calling them “gay” will do the trick), but at this time, I did not have this sort of wit. Instead, I abruptly ended the speech, saying “That’s all for me” and sat down.
By the way, at the end of the day, one of the girls in class, Anna, was allowed to give her presentation another day, as she told the teacher she was having a bad day because she was on her period. While I am no period doctor, and will never fully understand the plight of being a woman and the horrors of having a period, to see this transpire after one of the worst things that had ever happened to me just moments before made me insanely angry. To still be forced to give my speech made me blood red mad.
But not as red Anna’s period. (That joke was 15 years in the making. You are welcome.)
I sat down, cracked the cursed flash drive in half, and threw it away. This little devil stick just ruined my life.
PART 3: The Aftermath
This was towards the end of class, which was followed my lunch, which was followed by the last period of the day. I did not know what to expect, but the rest of the day was absolutely terrifying for one reason:
It was quiet.
No one said anything. Word had not gotten out. I sat at lunch, with my friends, completely silent and white as a ghost (I am already very pale, so I don’t think anyone noticed). Waiting for someone, somewhere, to come to come up to me.
You see, I went to a high school just small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s business, but just big enough that not everyone knew me well enough to not think I was a weird porn freak. There weren’t enough people who knew me enough to be like “You know, Morgan’s more than just a porn freak. He gave me one of his apple slices when I was hungry once! Give him a break!”
My reputation was at stake, and I was doomed.
I went home, and was absolutely beside myself. I told my mother what had happened, and ran into my room and cried for hours. I thought my life was over. Everyone would know me as the weird porn guy, as opposed to just the regular weird guy who keeps giving people apple slices!
The next day, I got dropped off at school for my first class. I arrived early so that I cold intercept every possible person, to get it out of the way and tell them to not spread it. I guess this was my plan for all 1400 people who attended the school. I had my work cut out for me.
As I sat outside my first class, in the distance, I see the two first people of the day approach. As they got closer, I realize it’s two football buddies of mine.
“Whats up, guys”, I said timidly.
“Whats up, Morgan”, Jeremy Chang, our 245 Chinese running back responded (He, alongside our other Asian running back Dominick Ju, were known as the ‘Panda Express’, which is still the best football nickname I’ve ever heard).
“What you guys getting up to?”
“We’re just going to the library to download some porn on to these flash drives!”
My eyes opened wider than some of the assholes I saw on the flash drive. If you think I was going to go for an “opened wider than Jeremy’s eyes” joke, you’re disgusting.
They walked away, laughing.
“See ya later porn guy!”
The beginning of what would turn out to be the worst day of my life (at that point) had begun.
The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, but one memory stands out:
I was waiting in the lunch line to buy food, and some spikey hair kid named Trevor, a “friend” at the time, was standing next to two hot girls from the grade below us, girls I had never met before.
Quick Pause: I say “friend” because he was actually a dick to me for years. All I remember about him is that he called me obese in middle incessantly (which was true, but still mean), how he never included me in pick up basketball games (which was the correct move, but still mean),
— and the following memory:
He waved me over, and said “Hey, tell the girls how you surprised everyone in class with gay porn”.
I am not sure how I responded to this (I should’ve been like “You’re gay!” and then cut it into a TikTok), but not only had he changed the story to me “surprising” the class, as if this was some sort of attempt at exhibitionism, but he changed it to “gay porn”. While this made it extra embarrassing in front of these girls, in hindsight, him calling me “gay” for no reason shows me that he obviously had a talent for stand up comedy, and didn’t even know it.
I took that meal, walked to the library on the other side of campus, and ate lunch in the bathroom stall. I went home early, and sat in my bedroom for the rest of the day.
PART 4: Redemption
The next few days were much the same. Awkwardly avoiding everyone I saw, waiting for (and often receiving) some sort of comment about me being “The Gay Porn Guy”. I had no real way of handling it outside of just smiling and running off as quick as I could. Wild behavior from the school’s star back up offensive lineman.
Tensions were already high in my grade, though, as the legendary HiFi reports were about to be assigned. “HiFI”, short for Historical Figure, was the biggest project of the year for sophomores.
My history class was run by Mr. Cook, who was one the most well-liked teachers on campus. He was younger than all of the other teachers and way cooler, as he always talked about surfing and other cool guy stuff (and definitely not nerdy shit like space).
It was the day of getting assigned your HiFi report firgure. I was given basketball founder James Naismith.
Mr. Cook began going through what he expected from us for the report. The length of the presentation and some of the materials we needed to accumulate, like visual aids.
“These could be something like props, or costumes…”
He pauses. He takes a big breath through a cracked smile. He’s trying to hold back a laugh.
“… or a PowerPoint presentation.”
A giggle escapes like a bubble coming from the bottom of the ocean after a whale farts (I’m not sure if this is scientifically accurate).
It was at this moment I realized two things:
- The teachers knew too, and surely, all had a big laugh about it. The story of “Morgan the Porn Guy” had gone all the way to the top.
- The teacher just laughed when (obviously) alluding to me and my presentation, and if the teacher is going to laugh, the students now have free reign to join.
And so, the laughter began. To make matters worse, I was situated in the couches in the back, right at the center point of the room, in clear sight of every other student.
Mr. Cook knew he had messed up, but then made one of the most important assists a person has ever thrown me. An assist that would even make James Naismith smile.
“Morgan, we all heard. Tell us what happened”
I froze. This man just stopped class for me to present the most horrifying thing that had ever happened to me.
At the time I didn’t fully understand, but now I do. He gave me the opportunity to lean into it.
Not until that moment did I realize that I could say the story, from my perspective. I could get in front of it, have a laugh about it, and hopefully get other people to laugh too.
I explained the story much like how it is written above. People laughed, people had questions (we’ll get to those), and most importantly, at the end of the story, people smiled, and turned back to Mr. Cook so he could continue his talk about HiFi.
I had told the story, was open about how I looked like an idiot, and people laughed.
As I left the class, a few students came up to me.
“That was funny”
“Really? I don’t know I was kind of embarrassed”
“Ya, that’s why it was funny, dumbass.”
After I left the class, those two hot girls who were talking to Trevor walked up to me, made out with me and said “Wow we heard your funny story and totally want to take your virginity!”
This did not happen, but it’s sort of how I felt.
I had unlocked a new skill. I knew that if I could get people to listen to my story, from my perspective, that I could get them on my side. I knew that the more I leaned into the story, the less of a negative affect it would have on me, and people would say, “Morgan is a weird porn freak, but he’s our weird porn freak”.
From that point on, I embarked on my first comedy national tour of Oak Park, California, telling the story to as many people as I could. I remember sitting at a campfire at a party with some kids I didn’t know super well. One of the kids saytried to get one in on me, “Hey aren’t you the weird porn guy, whats the deal with that?”
This heckler was about to get owned.
“You’re damn right I am”, I replied, and started into one of the most vivid storytelling sessions of my life. I even started adding more damning things to the story to make it even crazier. I even called everyone “gay” and they ate it up! Trevor and Matt Rife would be proud.
Everyone was laughing, and every girl (obviously) wanted to take my virginity.
It is pretty easy to see that the moment Mr. Cook forced me to tell the story, and the subsequent national tour embarked on served as a sort of butterfly effect for my current career as a comedian and storyteller.
Funny how your worst moments can help you figure out the rest of your life.
PART 5: The Actual Lesson
The lesson learned was that if you lean into your weaknesses or embarrassments, everyone will love you forever.
This is what I thought, at least, for roughly 6 months. But then something happened. The same thing that happened at the lunch period that directly proceeded the ordeal.
It was quiet.
No one brought it up. No one cared. I would even bring it up, and people who shrug it off. What gives?
Around this time, I happened to watch a movie that gave me the answer, “The Truman Show”. You know the Jim Carrey movie? Where he lives in a fake world which is secretly manipulating him as the unwitting main character of a twisted reality show? Do you remember how that movie ends?
People think it's when he rigorously sails through a rainstorm to get to the edge of the “world” he lives in. Throughout this ordeal, we cut to people in bars, at home, in parking garages, watching with bated breath to see if Truman will escape his enclosure. His boat crashes into this “edge”, and he walks up the stairs to exit (for the first time in his life). He looks up towards the producers who have been playing “god” since his birth, and to the millions of people at home, and says his catchphrase, “In case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night,” and exits into darkness.
This is not the actual ending.
The actual ending, I think, declares the entire point of the movie, and you would miss it if you didn’t stay through the credits.
The actual ending is we find ourselves with the two garage security attendants who were frantically watching the ordeal, obviously big fans of the show. After cheering and rooting for Truman, a few moments after the show ends, one guard looks to the other, and says “Want to see what else is on?”
This movie knew something that I didn’t.
No gives a fuck about you.
At most I was a quick laugh for them, and at the least, they didn’t even know I existed. While this is a lesson I have still yet to really embody as a thirty year old, at least I wrote a very thought-provoking, pretentious conclusion to this story, right?
PART 6: Anwsering your questions
Earlier, I wrote out some questions that you might have had. What gives with this flash drive? Whose was it? Where did it come from? Why was there porn on it?
To this day, I am not sure. I found the flash drive in a random drawer in my house. That’s the extent of my knowledge.
Was it my fathers? Maybe. But, why would a grown man save those kinds of pictures on a flash drive? My dad at the time was in his 50’s, so not to say he was the most technologically sound, but even he knows how to type in “tits” on the internet.
I have a faint memory of him saying that the flash drive belonged to one of his employees, who was attempting to play a practical joke on another employee. Who knows.
I am not sure if I will ever find out, and I don’t care.
In a weird way, I am glad this ordeal happened. This weird little story about a weird little flash drive taught me the lesson that I can always lean into shit when it gets tough, and now, I make millions of dollars sharing these kinds of funny stories. So who’s laughing now!
I said earlier that this embarrassing moment was the one case where tits were not awesome. Well, now we can see, that this story was actually a positive one. Which means …
Tits are back to always being awesome!
Night night,
Morgan
