I was in rehab for two months from December 18th to February 20th. I was there January 6th during the insurrection.

Wouldn't have happened on my watch. 'Cause I would have made sure. I would have made sure it didn't. Was there ever an insurrection before I went to rehab? No. Has there been one since I got out? Absolutely not. They wouldn't dare. They know Baby J is back on the streets.

The whole time I was in rehab, it was very locked down for COVID. So we never got to leave the building. But I've heard at some rehabs, they take you on field trips. Like the one I was at, I guess in better times, you got to go to a farm and meet a horse. They do it a lot. It's called equine therapy. That sounds really nice, but how bad do you feel for that horse? It's born being like, "One day I'm going to win the Kentucky Derby." And its whole life it's just junkies being like, "Okay. All right. Petting your strong leg gives me confidence. If I can lift your hoof, it means I'm ready to have my own apartment."

When I first got to rehab, one of my biggest fears, was that everyone was going to recognize me. Gradually... a new fear took over. I'm not... I'm not, like exaggerating to be funny. Fucking no one... No one knew who I was. And it was driving me bananas.

Please don't repeat this. It was in the newspaper that I was in rehab and I left it out. I was like, "Oh, my God, the paper's here. Get in here, you addicts. Oh, my God! Let's... Oh, I wonder what's inside."

Before I realized that no one knew who I was, I went to this Welcome Group. So, like, I went from the detox ward to the men's ward where I was gonna live for a few months. When I got there, they had a Welcome Group. And before I walked into the group, I said to myself, I was like, "Be modest."

So, I go in and I sit down and I go, "Hi, I'm John M." And they're all staring at me like, why are you holding for applause? And this one guy, Lenny, who I later became really good friends with. He goes, "What do you do for a living?" The other guys go, "Yeah, what do you do for a living?" And I was like, ah. And I go, "I'm a stand-up comedian." And Lenny goes, "You make a living that way?" Like, "Yeah, ask your daughter. Or your son if he's not an athlete." Ask only certain sons.

I got in trouble my second week in rehab. 'Cause I ordered Outback steakhouse using Postmates. There were two things in this Pennsylvania town where I went to rehab. There was an Outback and there was a rehab. But when I ordered the Outback, I somehow thought the delivery guy wouldn't know what the rehab was. So I gave him the street address of the rehab as if it was my home. And then in the special instructions I wrote, "Don't stop at the big building. Drive up the hill to the brick dorm and you'll see a 38-year-old man outside in a robe who's so excited."

So the food arrives, but it gets confiscated by the RS on duty. He calls me into his office and he goes, "This is fucked up. This is serious." I go, "It's just Outback." He goes, "What if it's an Outback dry run?" I go, "What's an Outback dry run?" He goes, "Well this time you order Outback and it's just food, and we laugh it off and we let it through. But what if you left a really big tip, so that next time you order, you go, 'Hey, remember me? I left you a really big tip. I'll give you an even bigger tip if you get me some drugs.'" I said, "Oh, my God, that is a fantastic idea."