Saturday, October 8, 2011

Jamming in NY

Thank you and hello New York! Okay, it’s been a little while, it’s been a little while since I’ve been here and a couple of things have happened in that time. I’d like to talk a little bit about the war in the Persian Gulf... biiiiiig doings in the Persian Gulf. You know my favourite part of that war? It’s the first war we ever had that was on every channel plus cable... and the war got good ratings too, didn’t it? Got good ratings! Well, we like war!!! We like war! We’re a war-like people! We like war because we’re good at it! You know why we’re good at it? Cause we get a lot of practice. This country’s only 200 years old and already, we’ve had 10 major wars. We average a major war every 20 years in this country so we’re good at it! And it’s a good thing we are; we’re not very good at anything else anymore! Huh? Can’t build a decent car, can’t make a TV set or a VCR worth a fuck, got no steel industry left, can’t educate our young people, can’t get health care to our old people, but we can bomb the shit out of your country all right! Huh? Especially if your country is full of brown people; oh we like that don’t we? That’s our hobby! That’s our new job in the world: bombing brown people. Iraq, Panama, Grenada, Libya, you got some brown people in your country, tell them to watch the fuck out or we’ll goddamn bomb them! Well when’s the last white people you can remember that we bombed? Can you remember the last white--- can you remember ANY white people we’ve ever bombed? The Germans, those are the only ones and that’s only because they were trying to cut in on our action. They wanted to dominate the world! BULLSHIT! THAT’S OUR FUCKING JOB!!!
Now, we only bomb brown people – not because they’re trying to cut in on our action – just because they’re brown. Now you probably noticed I don’t feel about that war the way we were told we were supposed to feel about that war, the way we were ordered and instructed by the United States government to feel about that war. You see, I tell ya, my mind doesn’t work that way. I got this real moron thing I do; it’s called “thinking”, and I’m not a very good American because I like to form my own opinions. I don’t just roll over when I’m told to. Sad to say, most Americans just roll over <snap> on command, not me. I have certain rules I live by; my first rule: I don’t believe anything the government tells me... nothing, zero, no, and I don’t take very seriously, the media or the press in this country, who in the case of the Persian Gulf war were nothing more than unpaid employees of the Department of Defence, and who most of the time, most of the time functioned as kind of an unofficial public relations agency for the United States government. So I don’t listen to them, I don’t really believe in my country and I gotta tell you folks, I don’t get all choked up about yellow ribbons and American flags. I consider them to be symbols and I leave symbols to the symbol-minded.
Me? I look at war a little bit differently. To me, war is a lot of prick-waving okay? Simple thing, that’s all it is, war is a whole lot of men standing out in a field waving their pricks at one another. Men are insecure about the size of their dicks and so they have to kill one another over the idea. That’s what all that asshole, jock bullshit is all about. That’s what all that adolescent, macho-male posturing, and strutting in bars and locker rooms is all about, it’s called “dick fear!” Men are terrified that their pricks are inadequate and so they have to compete with one another to feel better about themselves and since war is the ultimate competition, basically, men are killing each other in order to improve their self-esteem. You don’t have to be a historian or a political scientist to see the Bigger Dick foreign policy theory at work. It sounds like this: “What?! They have bigger dicks?! BOMB THEM!!!” And of course, the bombs and the rockets and the bullets are all shaped like dicks. It’s a subconscious need to project the penis into other people’s affairs. It’s called: “FUCKING WITH PEOPLE!!!”
So as far as I’m concerned, that whole thing in the Persian Gulf is nothing more than a biiiiiig prick-waving dick fight. In this particular case, Saddam Hussein had questioned the size of George Bush’s dick and George Bush has been called a wimp for so long – “wimp” rhymes with “limp” – George has been called a wimp for so long, that he has to act out his manhood fantasies by sending other people’s children to die. Even the name... “Bush”... even the name, “Bush”, is related to the genitals without being the genitals. A bush is a sort of passive, secondary, sex characteristic. Now if this man’s name had been George Boner, well, he might’ve felt a little bit better about himself and we wouldn’t have had any trouble over there in the first place.
This whole country has a manhood problem, biiiiiig manhood problem in the USA. You can tell from the language we use; language always gives you away. What did we do wrong in Vietnam? We pulled out! Huh? Not a very manly thing to do is it? When you’re fucking people, you gotta stay in there and fuck them good! Fuck ‘em all the way! Fuck ‘em ‘til the end! Fuck ‘em to death! Fuck ‘em to death! Fuck ‘em to death! Stay in there and keep fucking them until they’re all dead! We left a few women and children alive in Vietnam and we haven’t felt good about ourselves since. That’s why in the Persian Gulf, George Bush had to say “this will not be another Vietnam!” He actually used these words, he said: “This time, we’re going all the way!” Imagine, an American president using the sexual slang of a 13 year-old to describe his foreign policy. If you wanna know what happened in the Persian Gulf, just remember the names of the two men who were running that war: Dick Cheney and Colin Powell... somebody got fucked in the ass!

Now to balance the scale, I’d like to talk about some things that bring us together, things that point out our similarities instead of our differences cause that’s all you ever hear about in this country is our differences. That’s all the media and the politicians are ever talking about: the things that separate us, things that make us different from one another. That’s the way the ruling class operates in any society: they try to divide the rest of the people; they keep the lower and the middle classes fighting with each other so that they, the rich, can run off with all the fucking money. Fairly simple thing... happens to work. You know, anything different, that’s what they’re gonna talk about: race, religion, ethnic and national background, jobs, income, education, social status, sexuality, anything they can do to keep us fighting with each other so that they can keep going to the bank. You know how I describe the economic and social classes in this country? The upper class keeps all of the money, pays none of the taxes. The middle class pays all of the taxes, does all of the work. The poor are there just to scare the shit out of the middle class... keep on showing up at those jobs.
So stirring up the shit is something I like to do from time to time but I also like to know that I can come back to these little things we have in common, little universal moments that we share separately, the things that make us the same. They’re so small; we hardly ever talk about them.
Do you ever look at your watch... and then you don’t know what time it is? And you have to look again, and you still don’t know the time. So you look a third time and somebody says “what time is it?” you say “I don’t know.”
Do you ever notice how sometimes all day Wednesday, you keep thinking it’s Thursday? And it happens over and over all day long, and then the next day, you’re all right again.
Do you ever find yourself standing in one of the rooms in your house and you can’t remember why you went in there? And two words float across your mind: “Alzheimer’s Disease?!”
You ever been talking to yourself and somebody comes in the room and you have to make believe you were singing? And you hope to God the other person really believes there’s a song called “What Does She Think I Am... Some Kind of Putz?!”
Little experiences we’ve all had... you ever been sitting in a railroad train in the station and there’s another train sitting right next to ya, and one of them starts to move, and you can’t tell which one it is?
How about when you’re out on a small boat on a windy day? You ever been out rocking back and forth for three or four hours trying to keep your balance, rough seas, little boat, then you get back into the shore and you’re standing on the dock and you could swear there was something inside of you that was still out there rocking?
Did you ever try to pick up a suitcase you thought was full but it wasn’t? And you go pwwt... and for just a split second you feel really strong.
How about when you’re looking through a chain link fence? Did you ever notice if you’re just the right distance from a chain link fence, sometimes it seems to go pwwt [makes a closing in and out motion]? What is that? How do they do that?
Did you ever try to tell somebody they have a little bit of dirt on their face? You can never get them to rub the right spot can you? “Say... you got a little bit of dirt right here.” They always go “where? Here?” and you just wanna slap the bastard!
Do you ever notice how awful your face looks in a mirror in a restroom that has florescent lights? Every cut, scrape, scratch, scar, scab, bruise, boil, bump, pimple, zit, warp, welt, and abscess you’ve had since BIRTH all seem to come back at the same time, and all you can think of is “I GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!”
Did you ever notice sometimes when you’re walking with your arm around your date, one of you has the change the way you’re walking? Men and women don’t walk the same; one of them has to change. Either the man has to walk like this [walks on his toes] or the woman has to walk like this [struts] “Joey, how are ya?”
How about when you’re going up a flight of stairs and you think there’s one more step? And you go ughh. And then you have to kinda keep doing that you know, so people will think it’s something you do all the time. “I do this all the time; it’s the third stage of syphilis.” Same thing happens when you’re going down the stairs. You could swear there was one more step--- pfft! “Holy shit! My hips are in my chest!”
When you drink grapefruit juice in the morning, do you go like this? [squints face] I do too! Why do we drink it?! It’s like ice cream throat. You know when you’ve been eating ice cream too fast and you get that frozen spot in the back of your throat but you can’t do anything about it because you can’t reach it to rub it? You just have to kinda wait for it to go away? And it does... then what do you do? EAT MORE ICE CREAM!!! WHAT ARE WE FUCKING STUPID?!
Did you ever fall asleep on a late afternoon, you wake up after dark, and you don’t know what goddamn day it is?
Like when you have your head on a pillow... did you ever notice when you have your head on a pillow, if you close the bottom eye, the pillow is down there, then if you switch eyes, the pillow moves up there? “Whoa, holy shit Dave! Look at this! The mystery of the moving pillow... I think it’s related to the chain link fence mystery myself.”
Did you ever have to sneeze while you’re taking a piss? It’s frightening isn’t it? It’s frightening cause actually, you can’t do it! It’s physically impossible to sneeze while pissing. Your brain won’t let it happen; your brain says “STOP PISSING!!! YOU’RE GOING TO SNEEZE NOW!!!” cause your brain knows you might blow your asshole out!

Something else we have in common... flying on the airlines and listening to the airlines’ announcements and trying to pretend to ourselves that the language they’re using is really English. Doesn’t seem like it to me...
Whole thing starts when you get to the gate... first announcement: “We would like to begin the boarding process...” Extra word, “process”, not necessary, “boarding” is enough; “we’d like to begin the boarding...” simple, tells the story. People add extra words when they want things to sound more important than they really are. “Boarding process” sounds important... it isn’t. It’s just a bunch of people getting on an airplane!
People like to sound important; weathermen on television talk about “shower activity...” sounds more important than “showers”. I even heard one guy on CNN talk about “a rain event.” Swear to God, he said “Louisiana is expecting a rain event.” I thought “holy shit, I hope I can get tickets to that!”
... “Emergency situation...” News people like to say “police have responded to an emergency situation.” No they haven’t, they’ve responded to an emergency. We know it’s a situation... everything is a situation!
Anyway, as part of this boarding process, they say “we would like to pre-board...”...Well what exactly is that anyway? What does it mean to pre-board? You get on before you get on?
That’s another complaint of mine: too much use of this prefix “pre.” It’s all over the language now: pre-this, pre-that, “place the turkey in a pre-heated oven...” It’s ridiculous! There are only two states an oven can possibly exist in: HEATED OR UNHEATED! “Pre-heated” is a meaningless fucking term!
It’s like “pre-recorded...” “this program was pre-recorded...” well OF COURSE it was pre-recorded! When else are you gonna record it? Afterwards?! That’s the whole purpose of recording: to do it beforehand... otherwise it doesn’t really work does it?!
“Pre-existing”, “pre-planning”, “pre-screening”, you know what I tell these people? PRE-SUCK MY GENITAL SITUATION!!! And they seem to understand what I’m talking about...
Anyway, as part of this pre-boarding, they say: “we would like to pre-board those passengers travelling with small children.” Well what about those passengers travelling with large children? Suppose you have a two year-old with a pituitary disorder! You know, a six-foot infant with an oversized head, the kind of kids you see in the National Inquirer all the time. Actually, with a kid like that, I think you’re better off checking him right in with your luggage at the curb don’t you? Well they like it under there, it’s dark, they’re used to that!
About this time, someone is telling you to get on the plane... “get on the plane, get on the plane...” I say “Fuck you! I’m getting IN the plane! Let Evil Keneevil get ON the plane! I’ll be in here with you folks in uniform. There seems to be less WIND in here!”
They might tell you you’re on a “non-stop flight...”...Well I don’t think I care for that. No, I insist that my flight stop! Preferably at an airport! It’s those sudden unscheduled corn field and housing development stops that seem to interrupt the flow of my day!
Here’s one they just made up: “near-miss.” When two planes almost collide, they call it a “near-miss.” IT’S A NEAR-HIT!!! A collision is a near-miss! Pfft! “Look, they nearly missed.” “Yes, but not quite!”
They might tell you your flight has been delayed because of a “change of equipment...” BROKEN PLANE!!!
Tell me to “put my seatback forward...” Well I don’t bend that way! If I could put my seatback forward, I’d be in porno movies!!!
Then they mention “carry-on luggage...” first time I heard “carry-on”, I thought they were going to bring a dead deer on board. I thought “what the hell do they need with that? Don’t they have the little TV dinners anymore?” Then I thought “carry-on, carry on, there’s going to be a party! People are going to be carrying on on the plane.” Well I don’t care for that; I like a serious attitude on the plane, especially on the “flight deck” which is the latest euphemism for “COCKPIT!!!” Can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to use a lovely word like “COCKPIT” can you? Especially with all those stewardesses going in and out of it all the time!
There’s a word that’s changed: “stewardess...” First it was “hostess”, then it’s “stewardess”, now it’s “flight attendant.” You know what I call them? “The Lady on the Plane.” Sometimes, it’s a man on the plane now, that’s good, equality; I’m all in favour of that. Sometimes, they actually refer to these people as “uniformed crew members.” Uniformed... as opposed to that guy sitting next to you in a “grateful dead” t-shirt and a “fuck you” hat... who’s working on his ninth little bottle of Kahlua I might add.
As soon as they close the door to the aircraft, that’s when they begin the safety lecture. I love the safety lecture. This is my favourite part of the airplane ride. I listen very carefully to the safety lecture, especially that part where they teach us how to use “the seat belts.” Imagine this: here we are; a plane full of grown human beings – many of us partially educated – and they’re actually taking time out to describe the intricate workings of a belt buckle! “Place the small metal flap into the buckle.” Well I asked for clarification at that point! “Over here please... over here... yes... thank you very much. Did I hear you correctly? Did you say ‘place the small metal flap into the buckle’ or ‘place the buckle over and around the small metal flap?’ I’m a simple man; I do not possess an engineering degree nor am I mechanically inclined. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time, please continue with the wonderful safety lecture. Seat belt: high-tech shit!”
The safety lecture continues... the next thing they do, they tell you to locate your nearest emergency exit... I do this immediately! I locate my nearest emergency exit and then I plan my route. You have to plan your route; it’s not always a straight line is it? Sometimes, there’s a REALLY BIG FAT FUCK SITTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!! Well you know you’ll never get over him! I look around for women and children, midgets and dwarves, cripples, war widows, paralyzed veterans, people with broken legs, anybody who looks like they can’t move too well. The emotionally disturbed come in very handy at a time like this. You might have to go out of your way to find these people but you’ll get out of the plane a lot goddamn quicker, believe me! I say “let’s see... I go around the fat fuck, step on the widow’s head, push those children out of the way, knock down the paralyzed midget, and get out of the plane where I can help others.” I can be of no help to anyone if I’m lying unconscious in the aisle with some big cocksucker standing on my head! I must get out of the plane, go to a nearby farmhouse, have a Dr. Pepper, and call the police!
The safety lecture continues... “In the unlikely event...” This is a very suspect phrase, especially coming as it does from an industry that is willing to lie about arrival and departure times... “In the unlikely event of a sudden change in cabin pressure...” ROOF FLIES OFF!!! “ oxygen mask will drop down in front of you. Place the mask over your face and breathe normally.” Well, I have no problem with that. I always breathe normally when I’m in a 600mph uncontrolled vertical dive. I also shit normally... RIGHT IN MY PANTS!!! They tell you to adjust your oxygen mask before helping your child with his. I did not need to be told that. In fact, I’m probably going to be too busy screaming to help him at all! This will be a good time for him to learn “self-reliance!” If he can program his fucking VCR, he can goddamn, jolly well learn to adjust an oxygen mask! Fairly simple thing; just a little rubber band at the back, that’s all it is... not nearly as complicated as say, for instance a... seat belt.
The safety lecture continues... “In the unlikely event of a water landing...” ... ... well what exactly is... a water landing? Am I mistaken or does this sound somewhat similar to CRASHING INTO THE OCEAN?!!! “...your seat cushion can be used as a floatation device.” Well imagine that: my seat cushion... just what I need... to float around the North Atlantic for several days, clinging to a pillow full of beer farts!
The flight continues... a little later on, toward the end, we hear: “the captain has turned on the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign.” Well who gives a shit who turned it on?! What does that have to do with anything?! It’s on isn’t it?! ... ...And who made this man a captain might I ask? Did I sleep through some sort of an armed forces swearing-in ceremony or something? Captain? He’s a fucking pilot! Let him be happy with that! If those sightseeing announcements are any mark of his intellect, he’s lucky to be working at all! Tell the captain “Air Marshall Carlin says ‘GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!’”
The next sentence I hear is full of things that piss me off: “Before leaving the aircraft, please check around your immediate seating area for any personal belongings you might have brought on board.” Well, let’s start with “immediate seating area...”... SEAT!!! It’s a goddamn seat! “Check around your seat!”...
“...for any personal belongings...” Well what other kinds of belongings are there besides personal? Public belongings? Do these people honestly think I might be travelling with a fountain I stole from the park?!
“ might have brought on board.” Well... I might have brought my arrowhead collection... I didn’t, SO I’M NOT GOING TO LOOK FOR IT!!! I’M GOING TO LOOK FOR THINGS I BROUGHT ON BOARD!!! It would seem to enhance the likelihood of my finding something wouldn’t you say?
Tell me to return my seatback and tray table to their original upright positions? Fine, who’s going to return this guy in the “grateful dead” t-shirt and the “fuck you” hat to his original upright position?
About this time, they tell you “you’ll be landing shortly...” that sound to you like we’re gonna miss the runway? “Final approach” is not very promising either is it? “Final” is not a good word to be using on an airplane. Sometimes, the pilot will get on and he’ll say “we’ll be on the ground in 15 minutes.” WELL THAT’S A LITTLE VAGUE ISN’T IT?!!!
Now we’re taxiing in, she says “welcome to O’Hare International Airport...” Well how can someone who is just arriving herself possibly welcome me to a place she isn’t even at yet?! Doesn’t this... doesn’t this violate some fundamental law of physics?! We’re only on the ground four seconds; she’s coming on like the fucking mayor’s wife!
“...where the local time...” well of course it’s the local time. What did you think we were expecting? The time in Pengo, Pengo?
“...enjoy your stay in Chicago or wherever your final destination might be.”... All destinations are final. That’s what it means “destiny”, “final.” If you haven’t gotten where you’re going, you aren’t there yet.
“The captain has asked...” More shit from the bogus captain... you know for someone who’s supposed to be flying an airplane, he’s taking a mighty big interest in what I’m doing back here...
“...that you remain seated until he has brought the aircraft to a complete stop.” Not a partial stop... cause during a partial stop, I partially get up.
“Continue to observe the ‘no smoking’ sign until well inside the terminal.” It’s physically impossible to observe the “no smoking” sign even if you’re standing just outside the door of the airplane! Much less well inside the terminal; you can’t even see the FUCKING PLANES from well inside the terminal!
Which brings me to “terminal”, another unfortunate word to be used in association with air travel... and they use it all over the airport don’t they? Somehow, I just can’t get hungry at a place called “The Terminal Snack Bar”. But if you’ve ever eaten there, you know it is an appropriate name.

Speaking of places to eat and what they’re called or named, Beverly Hills has a brand new restaurant specifically for bulimia victims. It’s called “The Scarf ‘n Barf.” Well, they weren’t gonna call it “The Fork ‘n Bucket.” Thank God, good taste prevailed. How about a restaurant for anorexics? What would you call it? “The Empty Plate”, “The Lonesome Chef”, “Start Without Me Guys”... See, somehow I can’t feel sorry an anorexic you know? Rich cunt don’t wanna eat? Fuck her. Don’t eat! I ain’t give a shit! Like I’m supposed to be concerned about this---“I DON’T WANNA EAT!!!” Go fuck yourself. Why don’t you lie down in front of a railroad train right after you don’t eat? What kind of a goddamn disease is that anyway? “I DON’T WANNA EAT!!!” How do we come up with this shit in this country? Where do we get our values from? Bulimia! There’s another all-American disease. This has gotta be the only country in the world that could ever have come up with bulimia... gotta be the only country where some people are digging in the dumpster for a peach pit, other people eat a nice meal and puke it up intentionally! Where do we get our values from? I do not understand our values.
By the way, speaking of American values, aren’t we about due to start bombing some small country that only has a marginally effective air force? Seems to me like we’re weeks overdue to drop high explosives helpless civilians; people who have no argument with us whatsoever. I think we ought to be out there doing what we do best gang: making large holes in other people’s countries. I hate to be repetitious but we are a war-like lot. We can’t stand it not to be fucking with somebody! We couldn’t wait for that Cold War to be over could we? Couldn’t wait for the Cold War to be over so we can go and play with our toys in the sand, go and play with our toys in the sand, and when we’re not invading some sovereign nation or setting it on fire from the air, which is more fun for our Nintendo pilots, then we’re usually declaring war on something here at home.
Did you ever notice that about us? We love to declare war on things here in America. Anything we don’t like about ourselves, we declare war on it, we don’t do anything about it, we just declare war on it. It’s the only metaphor, the only metaphor we have in our public discourse for solving problems: declaring war. We have to declare a war on everything; we have a war on crime, the war on poverty, the war on litter, the war on cancer, the war on drugs, but did you ever notice we got no war on homelessness? Huh? No war on homelessness... you know why? There’s no money in that problem, no money to be made off of the homeless. If you can find a solution to homelessness where the corporate swine and the politicians could steal a couple of million dollars each, you’ll see the streets of America begin to clear up pretty goddamn quick, I’ll guarantee you that!
I got an idea! You know what they ought to do? Give the homeless their own magazine. Give them their own magazine. It would them feel better for one thing. That’s a sure sign of making it in this country; every group in this country that arrives at a certain level has its own magazine. We have Working Mother Magazine, Black Entrepreneur Magazine, Hispanic Business Magazine, in fact, any activity; any activity engaged in by more than four people in this country has got a fucking magazine devoted to it. Skydiving, snowmobiling, backpacking, mountain climbing, bungee jumping, skeet shooting, duck hunting, jerking off, playing pool, shooting someone in the asshole with a dart gun... they probably got a fucking magazine for that! WALKING for Christ sakes... WAAALLLKKKIIINNNGGG!!!!!! There’s actually a fucking magazine called “WALKING!” “Look Dan! The new ‘Walking’ is out! Here’s a good article: ‘Putting one foot in front of the other!’” Give ‘em their own magazine. You know what you’d call a magazine for the homeless? “Better Crates and Cartons.” Yeah, then when they get finished reading it, they can use it to line their clothing. That’s a good, sound business solution isn’t it? That’s the kind of answer you get from a conservative American businessman in this country: “Yeah, let them read it. When they get finished reading, they can use it to plug up the holes in the piano crates they all seem to like to live in.” A good, sound, practical, conservative American biiizniiiz solution.
I got an idea about homelessness. You know what they ought to do? Change the name of it. Change the name! It’s not homelessness, it’s houselessness! It’s houses these people need! A home is an abstract idea, a home is a setting, it’s a state of mind. These people need houses; physical, tangible structures. They need low-cost housing but where’re you gonna put it? Well that’s fine but where’re you gonna put it? Where’re you gonna put it?
Nobody wants you to build low-cost housing near their house. People don’t want it near ‘em! We’ve got something in this country – you’ve heard of it – it’s called NIMBY, N-I-M-B-Y, “Not In My BackYard!” People don’t want anything, any kind of social help, located anywhere near ‘em! You try to open up a Halfway House, try to open up a drug rehab or an alcohol rehab centre, try to do a homeless shelter somewhere, try to open up a little home for some retarded people who wanna work their way into the community, people say “NOT IN MY BACKYARD!” People don’t want anything near ‘em especially if it might help somebody else; part of that great American spirited generosity we hear about—pbbt!!! Great generous American spirit! You can ask an Indian about that; ask an Indian – if you can find one... you gotta locate an Indian first; we’ve made ‘em just a little difficult to find – or if you need current data, select a black family at random, ask them how generous America has been to them.
People don’t want anything near ‘em, even if it’s something they believe in, something they think society needs, like prisons! Everybody wants more prisons right? Everybody wants more prisons. People say “BUILD MORE PRISONS... ...but not here.” Well why not? What’s wrong? What’s the problem? What’s wrong with having a prison in your neighbourhood? It would seem to me like it would make it a pretty crime-free area, don’t you think? You think a lot of crackheads and pimps and hookers and thieves are gonna be hanging around in front of a fucking prison?! Bullshit! They ain’t coming anywhere NEAR it!!! What’s wrong with these people? All the criminals are locked up behind the walls and if a couple of them do break out, what do you think they’re gonna do? Hang around? Check real estate trends? Bullshit! Pwwt! They’re fucking gone! That’s the whole idea of breaking out of prison is to get the fuck as far away as you possibly can! ...not in my backyard...
People don’t want anything near ‘em... except military bases. They don’t mind that do they? They like that. Give ‘em an army base, give ‘em a navy base, makes ‘em happy, why? Jobs! Jobs! Self-interest! Even if the base is loaded with nuclear weapons, THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!! They say “well, I’ll take a little radiation if I can get a job!” Working people have been fucked over so long in this country, those are the kind of decisions they’re left to make.
I’ve got just the place for low-cost housing, I have solved this problem, I know where we can build housing for the homeless: GOLF COURSES!!! Perfect! Golf courses! Just what we need! Just what we need: plenty of good land in nice neighbourhoods, land that is currently being wasted on a meaningless, mindless activity, engaged in primarily by white, well-to-do, male businessmen who use the game to get together to make deals to carve this country up a little finer among themselves. I am getting tired... really... getting... tired of these golfing cocksuckers in their green pants, and their yellow pants, and their orange pants, and their precious little hats, and their cute little golf carts! It is time to reclaim the golf courses from the wealthy and turn them over to the homeless. Golf is an arrogant, elitist game and it takes up entirely too much room in this country. It is an arrogant game on its very design alone. Just the design of the game SPEAKS of arrogance! Think of how big a golf course is... THE BALL IS THAT FUCKING BIG!!! WHAT DO THESE PIN-HEADED PRICKS NEED WITH ALL THAT LAND?!!! There are over 17,000 golf courses in America, they average over 150 acres apiece, that’s 3 million plus acres, 4,820 square miles... you could build two Rhode Island’s and a Delaware for the homeless on the land currently being wasted on this meaningless, mindless, arrogant, elitist, racist – there’s another thing; the only blacks you’ll find in country clubs are carrying trays – and a boring game... boring game for boring people. You ever watch golf on television? It’s like watching flies fuck! And-and a mindless game, mindless, think of the intellect it must take to draw pleasure from this activity: hitting a ball with a crooked stick... and then... walking after it... and then... HITTING IT AGAIN!!! I SAY PICK IT UP ASSHOLE!!! YOU’RE LUCKY YOU FOUND THE FUCKING THING!!! PUT IT IN YOUR POCKET AND GO THE FUCK HOME!!! YOU’RE A WINNER!!! YOU’RE A WINNER!!! YOU FOUND IT!!! No... never happens... no... no chance of that happening; Dorko in the plaid knickers is going to hit it again and walk some more. Let these rich cocksuckers play miniature golf. Let ‘em fuck with a windmill for an hour and a half or so... see if there’s really any skill among these people. Now I know there are some people who play golf who don’t consider themselves rich... FUCK ‘EM!!! And shame on them for engaging in an arrogant, elitist pastime.
Hey! Here’s another place we can put some low-cost housing: CEMETARIES!!! There’s another idea whose time has passed! Saving all the dead people up for one part of town?! What the hell kind of a medieval, superstitious, religious, bullshit idea is that?! Plough these motherfuckers up, plough into the streams and rivers of America; we need that phosphorous for farming! 
If we’re going to recycle, LET’S GET SERIOUS!!!
Thank you... I appreciate it... I appreciate that [has a sip of water]... good to have a little sip of this, the water, I assume, is still safe to drink in New York huh? [Audience reacts negatively] Actually, I gotta be fair with you; I’m only setting you up a little bit. It’s just... it’s not a trick question but it’s just a set-up cause I don’t really care about the water, to tell you the truth, I just love to hear the answer to that question. I ask that question everywhere I go. Everywhere I go, I say: “How’s the water?”... Haven’t got a positive answer yet... not one. Last year, I was in 40 states, 100 cities. Not one audience was able to say to me: “Yes, enjoy some of our fine local water! It is pure and it is good!” Of course, I know a lot of people don’t talk that way anymore but nobody trusts the local water supply. Nobody! And that amuses me, I like that, I admit I’m a bit perverted but it amuses me that no one can really trust the water anymore and the thing I like about it the most is: it means the system is beginning to collapse and everything is slowly breaking down.
I enjoy chaos and disorder – not just because they help me professionally – they’re also my hobby. You see, I’m an entropy fan. When I first heard of entropy in high school science, I was attracted to it immediately. When they told me that in nature, all systems are breaking down, I thought: “What a good thing! What a good thing! Perhaps I can make some small contribution in this area myself.” And of course, it’s not just in nature, in this country, the whole social structure... just beginning to collapse, you watch; just beginning now to come apart at the edges and the seams and the thing I like about that is that it means it makes the news on television more interesting, makes the television news more exciting, makes it more fun. I watch television news for one thing and one thing only: entertainment! That’s all I want from the news: entertainment! You know my favourite thing on television? Bad news! Bad news and disasters and accidents and catastrophes. I wanna see some explosions and fires! I wanna see shit blowing up and bodies flying around! I’m not interested in the budget; I don’t care about tax negotiations; I don’t wanna know what country the fucking Pope is in! But you show me a hospital that’s on fire and people on crutches are jumping off the roof and I’M A HAPPY GUY!!! I’M A HAPPY GUY!!! I’M A HAPPY GUY!!! I wanna see a paint factory blowing up! I wanna see an oil refinery explode! I wanna see a tornado hit a church on Sunday! I wanna see people--- I wanna know there’s some guy running through the K-Mart with an automatic weapon firing at the clerks! I wanna see thousands of people in the street killing policemen! I wanna hear about a nuclear meltdown! I wanna know the stock market dropped 2000 points in one day! I wanna see people under pressure! Sirens, flames, smoke, bodies, graves being filled, parents weeping... exciting shit! My kind of TV! I just want some entertainment! It’s just the kind of guy I am! It’s the kind of guy I am! You know what I love the most? When big chunks of concrete and fiery wood are falling out the sky and people are running around trying to get out of the way!
Exciting shit! That’s why I watch auto-racing. That’s the only reason I watch auto-racing: I’m waiting for some ACCIDENTS man!!! I wanna see some cars on fire! I don’t care about a bunch of redneck jackoffs driving 500 miles in a circle! 500 miles in a circle? Children can do that for Christ sakes! Doesn’t impress me! I wanna see some schmuck with his hair on fire running around punching his own head trying to put it out! I wanna see the pits explode! I wanna see a car doing a 200mph cartwheel! Hey, where else besides auto-racing am I gonna see a 23 car collision and not be in the son of a bitch?! And if a car flies out of control, lands in the stands and kills 50 spectators, FINE, FUCK ‘EM!!! Serves ‘em right; they paid to get in, let ‘em take their chances with everybody else! Just means more fun for me! More fun for me!
Hey, at least I admit it. At least I admit it. Most people won’t admit to those feelings. Most people see something like that on television, they’ll say: “Oh isn’t that awful? Isn’t that too bad?” Pbbt! Lying asshole! Lying assholes! You love it and you KNOW it! EXPLOSIONS ARE FUN!!! And hey, the closer the explosion is to your house, the more fun it is! Did you ever notice that? Sometimes, you have the TV on and you’re working around the house, some guy comes on television and says: “6,000 people were killed in an explosion today...” You say: “Where?! Where?!” He says: “ Pakistan.” You say: “Aww fuck Pakistan! Too far away to be any fun!” But if he says it happened in your hometown, you’ll say: “WHOA!!! HOT SHIT!!! COME ON DAVE; LET’S GO LOOK AT THE BODIES!!! LET’S GO LOOK AT THE BODIES!!!” I love bad news! I love bad news! Hey, the more bad news there is, the faster this system collapses. Fine by me! Fine by me! Don’t bother my ass! Don’t bother my ass none! I’m glad the water sucks. I’m glad it sucks. You know what I do about it? I drink it! Unless... unless it really smells, if it really smells a lot like sulphur, then I might buy a soda. But it’s gotta be a soda loaded with chemical additives! I like a lot of chemical additives in the things I eat and drink!
See, I’m not one of these people who’s worried about everything. You got people like this around you? Countries full of them now: people walking around all day long, every minute of the day, worried... about everything! Worried about the air; worried about the water; worried about the soil; worried about insecticides, pesticides, food additives, carcinogens; worried about radon gas; worried about asbestos; worried about saving endangered species. Let me tell you about endangered species all right? Saving endangered species is just one more arrogant attempt by humans to control nature. It’s arrogant meddling; it’s what got us in trouble in the first place. Doesn’t anybody understand that? Interfering with nature. Over 90% - over, WAY over – 90% of all the species that have ever lived on this planet, ever lived, are gone! Pwwt! They’re extinct! We didn’t kill them all, they just disappeared. That’s what nature does. They disappear these days at the rate of 25 a day and I mean regardless of our behaviour. Irrespective of how we act on this planet, 25 species that were here today will be gone tomorrow. Let them go gracefully. Leave nature alone. Haven’t we done enough?
We’re so self-important, so self-important. Everybody’s gonna save something now: “Save the trees! Save the bees! Save the whales! Save those snails!” and the greatest arrogance of all: “Save the planet!” What?! Are these fucking people kidding me?! Save the planet?! We don’t even know how to take care of ourselves yet! We haven’t learned how to care for one another and we’re gonna save the fucking planet?! I’m getting tired of that shit! I’m getting tired of that shit! I’m tired of fucking Earth Day! I’m tired of these self-righteous environmentalists; these white, bourgeois liberals who think the only thing wrong with this country is there aren’t enough bicycle paths! People trying to make the world safe for their Volvo’s! Besides, environmentalists don’t give a shit about the planet. They don’t care about the planet; not in the abstract they don’t. You know what they’re interested in? A clean place to live; their own habitat. They’re worried that someday in the future, they might be personally inconvenienced. Narrow, unenlightened self-interest doesn’t impress me.
Besides, there is nothing wrong with the planet... nothing wrong with the planet. The planet is fine... the people are fucked! Difference! The planet is fine! Compared to the people, THE PLANET IS DOING GREAT: Been here four and a half billion years! Do you ever think about the arithmetic? The planet has been here four and a half billion years, we’ve been here what? 100,000? Maybe 200,000? And we’ve only been engaged in heavy industry for a little over 200 years. 200 years versus four and a half billion and we have the conceit to think that somehow, we’re a threat? That somehow, we’re going to put in jeopardy this beautiful little blue-green ball that’s just a-floatin’ around the sun? The planet has been through a lot worse than us. Been through all kinds of things worse than us: been through earthquakes, volcanoes, plate tectonics, continental drifts, solar flares, sunspots, magnetic storms, the magnetic reversal of the poles, hundreds of thousands of years of bombardment by comets and asteroids and meteors, worldwide floods, tidal waves, worldwide fires, erosion, cosmic rays, recurring ice ages, and we think some plastic bags and aluminum cans are going to make a difference?
The planet isn’t going anywhere... we are! We’re going away! Pack your shit folks! We’re going away and we won’t leave much of a trace either, thank God for that... maybe a little styrofoam... maybe... little styrofoam. The planet will be here, we’ll be long gone; just another failed mutation; just another closed-end biological mistake; an evolutionary cul-de-sac. The planet will shake us off like a bad case of fleas, a surface nuisance. You wanna know how the planet’s doing? Ask those people in Pompeii who are frozen into position from volcanic ash how the planet’s doing. Wanna know if the planet’s all right? Ask those people in Mexico City or Armenia or a hundred other places buried under thousands of tons of earthquake rubble if they feel like a threat to the planet this week. How about those people in Kilauea, Hawaii who build their homes right next to an active volcano and then wonder why they have lava in the living room?
The planet will be here for a long, long, LONG time after we’re gone and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself cause that’s what it does. It’s a self-correcting system. The air and the water will recover, the earth will be renewed, and if it’s true that plastic is not degradable, well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic into a new paradigm: The Earth plus Plastic. The Earth doesn’t share our prejudice towards plastic. Plastic came out of the Earth! The Earth probably sees plastic as just another one of its children. Could be the only reason the Earth allowed us to be spawned from it in the first place: it wanted plastic for itself, didn’t know how to make it, needed us. Could be the answer to our age-old philosophical question: “Why are we here?” PLASTIC!!! ASSHOLES!!!
So the plastic is here, our job is done, we can be phased out now, and I think that’s really started already, don’t you? I mean, to be fair, the planet probably sees us as a mild threat; something to be dealt with, and I’m sure the planet will defend itself in the manner of a large organism. Like a beehive or an ant colony can muster a defence, I’m sure the planet will think of something. What would you do if you were the planet trying to defend against this pesky, troublesome species? Let’s see... what might... hmm... viruses! Viruses might be good. They seem vulnerable to viruses. And uh... viruses are tricky; always mutating and forming new strains whenever a vaccine is developed. Perhaps this first virus could be one that-that compromises the immune system of these creatures. Perhaps a human immunodeficiency virus making them vulnerable to all sorts of other diseases and infections that might come along and maybe it could be spread sexually, making them a little reluctant to engage in the act of reproduction.
Well that’s a poetic note and it’s a start and I can dream can I? See, I don’t worry about the little things... bees, trees, whales, snails. I think we’re part of a greater wisdom that we won’t ever understand, a higher order. Call it what you want. You know what I call it? The big electron... the big electron. [Imitates electronic hum] It doesn’t punish, it doesn’t reward, it doesn’t judge at all. It just is and so are we... for a little while... thanks for being here with me for a little while tonight.
Thank you, thank you very much, thank you! Thank you!
Thank you New York City!
Take care of yourself!
Take care of yourself and somebody else! 
Thank you! Good night!

You are all diseased script

Thank you... So let me ask you something. Let me ask you how’s everybody doing tonight huh? Good well fuck you! Just trying to make you feel at home. Now listen... I’ve been out here all this time and I haven’t been complaining about anything yet so I think it’s time to go into the complaint department. This is just a series of things that are pissing me off. Okay? A series of things that are pissing me off cause I don’t have pet peeves, I have major psychotic fucking hatreds. Okay? And it makes the world a lot easier to sort out. 
First thing on my list tonight... airport security. Tired of this shit. There’s too much of it; there’s too much security at the airport. I’m tired of some guy with a double digit IQ and a triple digit income rooting around inside of my bag for no reason and never finding anything! Haven’t found anything yet! Haven’t found one bomb in one bag! And don’t tell me “well, the terrorists know their bags are gonna be searched so now they’re leaving their bombs at home.” There are no bombs. The whole thing is fucking pointless! And it’s completely without logic! There’s no logic at all! They’ll take away a gun, but let you keep a knife! Well what the fuck is that? In fact, there’s a whole list of lethal objects they will allow you to take on board. Theoretically, you could take... a knife, an ice pick, a hatchet, a straight razor, a pair of scissors, a chainsaw, 6 knitting needles, and a broken whiskey bottle, and the only thing they’re gonna say to you is “that bag has to fit all the way under the seat in front of you.” And if you didn’t take the weapon on board, relax; after you’ve been flying for about an hour, they’re gonna bring you a knife and fork. They actually give you a fucking knife! It’s only a table knife but you could kill a pilot with a table knife. It might take you a couple of minutes you know... especially if he’s hefty huh? Yeah but you could get the job done, if you really wanted to kill the prick. Shit, there’s a lot of things you could use to kill a guy with; you could probably beat a guy to death with the Sunday New York Times couldn’t you? Or suppose you just have really big hands. Couldn’t you strangle a flight attendant? Shit, you could probably strangle two of them; one with each hand... you know, if you are lucky enough to catch them in that little kitchen area... before they give out the fucking peanuts you know? But you could get the job done... if you really cared enough.
So why is it they allow a man with big powerful hands get onboard an airplane? I’ll tell you why. They know he’s not a security risk because he’s already answered the three big questions. Question number 1: “Did you pack your bags yourself?” ... ... No. Carrot Top packed my bags. He and Martha Stewart and Florence Henderson came over to the house last night, fixed me a lovely Lobster Newburg, gave me a full body massage with sacred oils from India, performed a four-way around the world, and then they packed my bags. Next question! “Have your bags been in your possession the whole time?” No. Usually, the night before I travel, just as the moon is rising, I place my suitcases out on the street corner and leave them there unattended for several hours... just for good luck. Next question! “Has any unknown person asked you to take anything on board?” Hmm... well what exactly is an “unknown person”? Surely, everyone is known to someone. In fact, just this morning, Karim and Yusef Ali Bangaba seemed to know each other quite well. They kept joking about which one of my suitcases was the heaviest. And that’s another thing they don’t like at the airport... jokes. You know? Yeah, you can’t joke about a bomb. But why is it just jokes? What about a riddle? How about a limerick? How about a bomb anecdote? You know... no punch line, just a really cute story. Or suppose you intended to remark, not as a joke, but as an ironic musing, are they prepared to make that distinction? Why I think not. And besides, who’s to say what’s funny? Airport security is a stupid idea, it’s a waste of money, and it’s only there for one reason, to make white people feel safe. That’s all. The illusion, the feeling and illusion of safety cause the authorities know they can’t make an airplane completely safe; too many people have access. You notice the drug smugglers don’t seem to have a lot of trouble getting their little packages on board, do they? No and God bless them too!
Oh and by the way, an airplane flight shouldn’t be completely safe. You need a little danger in your life. Take a fucking chance once in a while will you? What are you gonna do? Play with your prick for another 30 years? What, are you gonna read People’s Magazine and eat at Wendy’s till the end of time? Take a fucking chance! Besides, even if they made all of the airplanes completely safe, the terrorists would simply start bombing other places that are crowded; porn shops, crack houses, titty bars, and gangbangs. You know? Entertainment venues. The odds of you being killed by a terrorist are practically zero! So I say relax and enjoy the show. You have to be a realist; you have to be realistic about terrorism. Certain groups of people... certain groups – Muslim fundamentalists, Christian fundamentalists, Jewish fundamentalists, and just plain guys from Montana – are gonna continue to make life in this country very interesting for a long, long time. That’s the reality; angry men in combat fatigues talking to God on a two-way radio and muttering incoherent slogans about freedom are eventually going to provide us with a great deal of entertainment, especially after your stupid fucking economy collapses all around you and the terrorists come out of the woodwork and you’ll have anthrax in your water supply, and saran gas in your air conditioner, there’ll be chemical and biological suitcase bombs in every city and I say “enjoy it, relax, enjoy the show, take a fucking chance, put a little fun in your life.” To me, terrorism is exciting, it’s exciting. I think the very idea that you could set off a bomb in a marketplace and kill several hundred people is exciting and stimulating and I see it as a form of entertainment! Entertainment... that’s all it is. Yeah... but I also know that most Americans are soft and frightened and unimaginative and they don’t realize there’s such a thing as dangerous fun. And they certainly don’t recognize a good show when they see one! I have always been willing to put myself at great personal risk for the sake of entertainment and I’ve always been willing to put you at great personal risk for the same reason. As far as I’m concerned, all of this airport security, all the searches, the screenings, the cameras, the questions, it’s just one more way of reducing your liberty, and reminding you that they can fuck with you anytime they want... as long as you put up with it... as long as you put up with it; which means of course anytime they want, cause that’s what Americans do now, they’re always willing to trade away a little of their freedom in exchange for the feeling, the illusion of security. 
What we have now is a completely neurotic population obsessed with security and safety and crime and drugs and cleanliness and hygiene and germs... there’s another thing... germs. Where did this sudden fear of germs come from in this country? Have you noticed this? The media, constantly running stories about all the latest infections – salmonella, e-coli, hanta virus, bird flu – and Americans, they panic easily so now everybody’s running around, scrubbing this and spraying that and overcooking their food and repeatedly washing their hands, trying to avoid all contact with germs. It’s ridiculous and it goes to ridiculous lengths. In prisons, before they give you a lethal injection, they swab your arm with alcohol! It’s true! Yeah! Well, they don’t want you to get an infection! And you could see their point; wouldn’t want some guy to go to hell and be sick! It would take a lot of the sportsmanship out of the whole execution. Fear of germs... why these fucking pussies! You can’t even get a decent hamburger anymore! They cook the shit out of everything now cause everybody’s afraid of food poisoning! Hey, where’s your sense of adventure? Take a fucking chance will you? You know how many people die in this country from food poisoning every year? 9000... that’s all; it’s a minor risk! Take a fucking chance... bunch of goddamn pussies! Besides, what do you think you have an immune system for? It’s for killing germs! But it needs practice... it needs germs to practice on. So listen! If you kill all the germs around you, and live a completely sterile life, then when germs do come along, you’re not gonna be prepared. And never mind ordinary germs, what are you gonna do when some super virus comes along that turns your vital organs into liquid shit? I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do... you’re gonna get sick, you’re gonna die, and you’re gonna deserve it cause you’re fucking weak and you got a fucking weak immune system! 
Let me tell you a true story about immunization okay? When I was a little boy in New York City in the 1940s, we swam in the Hudson River and it was filled with raw sewage okay? We swam in raw sewage! You know... to cool off! And at that time, the big fear was polio; thousands of kids died from polio every year but you know something? In my neighbourhood, no one ever got polio! No one! Ever! You know why? Cause we swam in raw sewage! It strengthened our immune systems! The polio never had a prayer; we were tempered in raw shit! So personally, I never take any special precautions against germs. I don’t shy away from people that sneeze and cough, I don’t wipe off the telephone, I don’t cover the toilet seat, and if I drop food on the floor, I pick it up and eat it! Yes I do. Even if I’m at a sidewalk café! In Calcutta! The poor section! On New Year’s morning during a soccer riot! And you know something? In spite of all that so-called risky behaviour, I never get infections, I don’t get them, I don’t get colds, I don’t get flu, I don’t get headaches, I don’t get upset stomach, you know why? Cause I got a good strong immune system and it gets a lot of practice. My immune system is equipped with the biological equivalent of fully automatic military assault rifles with night vision and laser scopes, and we have recently acquired phosphorous grenades, cluster bombs, and anti-personnel fragmentation mines. So when my white blood cells are on patrol recon ordering my blood stream seeking out strangers and other undesirables, if they see any, ANY suspicious looking germs of any kind, they don’t fuck around! They whip out their weapons; they wax the motherfucker and deposit the unlucky fellow directly into my colon! Into my colon! There’s no nonsense, there’s no Miranda warning, there’s none of that “three strikes and you’re out” shit, first defense, BAM... into the colon you go! And speaking of my colon, I want you to know I don’t automatically wash my hands every time I go to the bathroom okay? Can you deal with that? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. You know when I wash my hands? When I shit on them! That’s the only time. And you know how often that happens? Tops, TOPS, 2-3 times a week tops! Maybe a little more frequently over the holidays, you know what I mean? And I’ll tell you something else my well-scrubbed friends... you don’t need to always need to shower every day, did you know that? It’s overkill, unless you work out or work outdoors, or for some reason come in intimate contact with huge amounts of filth and garbage every day, you don’t always need to shower. All you really need to do is to wash the four key areas; armpits, asshole, crotch, and teeth. Got that? Armpits, asshole, crotch, and teeth. In fact, you can save yourself a whole lot of time if you simply use the same brush on all four areas!
Now listen... I got a few more items of things that are pissing me off, and this one comes in the form of a question. Haven’t we had about enough of this cigar-smoking shit in this country? Huh? Huh? When is this gonna end? When is this shit gonna go away? When are these fat, arrogant, overpaid, overfed, overprivileged, overindulged, white-collared, business-criminal, asshole cocksuckers gonna put out their cigars and move along to their next abomination... white pussy businessmen sucking on a big brown dick? That’s all it is. That’s all it ever was... a big brown dick! Sigmund Freud said “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Oh yeah? Well sometimes it’s a big brown dick... with a fat, arrogant, white-collared, business-criminal asshole sucking on the wet end of it! But hey, hey, the news is not all bad for me, not all bad; you wanna know the good part? Cancer of the mouth. Good! Fuck ‘em! Makes me happy; it’s an attractive disease... goes nice with a cell phone! So light up suspender man, and suck that smoke deep down into your empty suit and blow it out your ass you fucking cocksucker!
Here’s another question I’ve been pondering... what is all this shit about angels? Have you heard this? Yeah... 3 out of 4 people now believe in angels. What are you fucking stupid? Has everybody lost their fucking mind in this country? Angels... shit! You know what I think it is? I think it’s a massive, collective, psychotic, chemical flashback of all the drugs, ALL the drugs smoked, swallowed, snorted, shot, and absorbed rectally by all Americans from 1960 to 1990; 30 years of adulterated street drugs will get you some fucking angels my friend! Angels... shit! What about goblins huh? Doesn’t anybody believe in goblins? Never hear about them except on Halloween and it’s always negative shit too you know? And zombies... where the fuck are all the zombies? That’s the trouble with zombies; they’re unreliable. I say if you’re gonna buy the angel shit you might as well go for the zombie package as well.
Here’s another horrifying example, an aspect of American culture, the-the pussification, the continued... the continued pussification of the American male in the form of Harley Davidson theme restaurants. What the fuck is going on here? Harley Davidson used to mean something. It stood for biker attitude; grimy outlaws in their sweaty mamas full of beer and crank, rolling around on Harleys, looking for a good time – destroying property, raping teenagers, and killing policemen... all very necessary activities by the way. But now? Theme restaurants and this soft shit obviously didn’t come from hardcore bikers; it came from these weekend motorcyclists, these fraudulent two-day-a-week motherfuckers who have their bikes trucked into Sturgis, South Dakota for the big rally and then ride around like they just came in off the road. Dentists and bureaucrats and pussy-boy software designers getting up on a Harley cause they think it makes them cool. Well hey skeezics, you ain’t cool, you’re fucking chilli and chilli ain’t never been cool. 
And here... as long as we’re talking about theme restaurants, I got a proposition for you. I think if white people are gonna burn down black churches, then black people ought to burn down the House of Blues! Huh? What a fucking disgrace that place is! The House of Blues... they ought to call it the House of Lame White Motherfuckers; inauthentic, low frequency, single-digit, lame, white motherfuckers... especially these male movie stars who think they’re blues artists. You ever see these guys? Don’t you just wanna puke in your soup when one of these fat, balding, overweight, overaged, out of shape, middle aged, male movie stars with sunglasses jumps onstage and starts blowing into a harmonica? It’s a fucking sacrilege! In the first place, white people got no business playing the blues ever at all under any circumstances ever, ever, ever! What the fuck do white people have to be blue about? Banana Republic ran out of khakis? Huh? The espresso machine is jammed? Hootie and the Blowfish are breaking up? Shit, white people ought to understand their job is to give people the blues, not to get them... and certainly not to sing or play them. Tell you a little secret about the blues; it’s not enough to know which notes to play, you gotta know why they need to be played, and another thing... I don’t think white people should be trying to dance like blacks. Stop that! Stick to your faggoty polkas and waltzes and that repulsive country line-dancing shit that you do and be yourself, be proud, be white, be lame, and get the fuck off the dance floor! 
Now listen, long as we’re discussing minorities, I’d like to mention something about language. There are a couple of terms being used a lot these days by guilty white liberals. First one is “happens to be”... “He happens to be black. I have a friend who happens to be black.” Like it’s a fucking accident you know? Happens to be black? “Yes, he happens to be black.” Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah, he had two black parents? “Oh yes, yes he did. Yes, that’s right.” Right, and they fucked? “Oh indeed they did... indeed they did.” So where does the surprise part come in? I should think it would be more unusual if he just happened to be Scandinavian! And the other term is “openly.” “Openly gay.” They say “he’s openly gay.” But that’s the only minority they use that for. You know, you wouldn’t say someone was “openly black.” ... well maybe James Brown... or Louis Farrakhan; Louis Farrakhan is openly black. Colin Powell is not openly black, Colin Powell is openly white; he just happens to be black. And while we’re at it, when did the word “urban” become synonymous with the word “black”? Did I fall asleep for 8 or 9 years? Urban styles, urban trends, urban music, I was not consulted on this at all, didn’t get an email, didn’t get a fax, didn’t get a fucking postcard, fine, let them go and I don’t think white women should be calling each other “girlfriend” okay? Stop pretending to be black! And no matter what color you are, “you go, girl” should probably go! Right along with “you da man” “Hey, you da man!” Oh yeah? Well you da fucking honky!
Now, something a little more positive for you, don’t want you to think the whole show is just negativity. This is about a festival. This is my idea for one of those big outdoor summer festivals. This is called “slug-fest.” This is for men only. Here’s what you do... you get about 100,000 of these fucking men; you know the ones I mean, these macho motherfuckers, yeah, these strutting, preening, posturing, hairy, sweaty, alpha-male jackoffs... the muscle assholes. You take about 100,000 of these disgusting pricks and you throw them in a big dirt arena, big 25-acre dirt arena and you just let them beat the shit out of each other for 24 hours nonstop, no food, no water, just whiskey and PCP! And you just let them punch and pound and kick the shit out of each other until only one guy is left standing, then you take that guy and you put him on a pedestal and you shoot him in the fucking head! Yeah. Then you put the whole thing on TV. Budweiser would jump at that shit in half a minute... and guys would volunteer, guys would line up, all you gotta do is promise them a small appliance of some kind. Men will do anything, just give them something that plugs in the wall and makes a whirring noise. 
Here’s another male cliché... these guys that cut the sleeves off of their t-shirts so the rest of us can have an even more compelling experience of smelling their armpits. I say “Hey Bruno, shut it down would you please? You smell like an anchovy’s cunt okay? Ughh... not good... ugh... ugh... whoa... not good Bruno, and definitely not for sharing.” This is the same kind of guy that has that barbed wire tattoo that goes all the way around the bicep. You’ve seen that haven’t you? That’s just what I need; some guy who hasn’t been laid since the bicentennial wants me to think he’s a “baaad motherfucka” because he’s got a picture... aha ha... a painting of some barbed wire on his- I say “hey junior, come around when you have the real thing on there, I’ll squeeze that shit on good and tight for ya okay?” No kidding, no kidding, this is the same kind of guy, that if you smashed him in the face 8 or 9 times with a big chunk of concrete, and then beat him over the head with a steel rod for an hour and a half, you know what? <click> He dropped like a fucking rock. Like a rock. Here’s another guy thing that sucks... these t-shirts that say “Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” You ever see that? This is more of that stupid Marine Corps bullshit; obsolete, male impulses from 100,000 years ago. “Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” You know what I do when I see that shirt? I obstruct! I stand right in the guy’s path, force him to walk around me, gets a little past me, I spin him around, kick him in the nuts, rip off the shirt, wipe it on my ass, and shove it down his fucking throat! That’s what I do when I see that shirt. Yeah. Hey listen, that’s all these marines are looking for... a good time. And speaking of tough guys, I’m getting a little tired of hearing that after 6 policemen get arrested for shoving a floor lamp up some black guy’s ass and ripping his intestines out, the police department announces they’re gonna have sensitivity training. I say “hey, if you need special training to be told not to jam a large cumbersome object up someone else’s asshole, maybe you’re too fucked up to be on the police force in the first place huh?” Maybe, maybe not, I don’t know, listen... you know what they ought to do? They ought to have two new requirements for being on the police; intelligence and decency! You never can tell, it might just work; it certainly hasn’t been tried yet. No one should ever have any object placed inside their asshole that is larger than a fist and less loving than a dildo okay?
Now, this next thing is about our president. This is about our president. Bill Jeff, Bill Jeff, Bill Jeff, Clinton... I don’t call him “Clinton”, I call him “Clit-tin”... “Clit-tin... C-L-I-T... T-I-N apostrophe!” His big deal was JFK, isn’t that right? Loved JFK, wanted to emulate JFK in every way. Well, JFK’s administration was called “Camelot”... well, it really should’ve been called “Come-a-lot” cause that’s what he did, he came a lot! So Clinton’s looking for a legacy, that’s what he should call- well maybe, “Come-a-little” would be better for him cause he came a little, you know... little on the dress, little on the desk, not a whole lot, really. Hey, he was no match, no match for Kennedy in the pussy department. Kennedy aimed high; Marilyn Monroe. Clinton showed his dick to a government clerk. There’s a drop-off here. There’s a drop-off.
Something else I’m getting tired of... there’s all this stupid bullshit that we have to listen to all the time about children. It’s all you hear in this country... children, “help the children!” “what about the children?” “save the children!” You know what I say? Fuck the children! Fuck ‘em! They’re getting entirely too much attention! And I know what you’re thinking, you say “Jesus, he’s not gonna attack children is he?” Yes he is! He’s going to attack children! And remember, this is Mr. Conductor talking; I know what I’m talking about! I also know all you single dads and soccer moms who think you’re such fucking heroes aren’t gonna like this, but somebody’s gotta tell you for your own good, your children are overrated and overvalued. You’ve turned them into little cult objects, you have a child fetish, and it’s not healthy! Don’t give me that weak shit “well, I love my children!” Fuck you! Everybody loves their children, doesn’t make you special. John Wayne Gacy loved his children... kept them all right out on the yard near the garage. That’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is this constant mindless yammering in the media, this neurotic fixation that somehow, everything, EVERYTHING has to be revolved around children. It’s completely out of balance. 

Listen, there are a couple of things about kids that you have to remember. First of all, they’re not all cute! Okay? In fact, if you look at them close, some of them are rather unpleasant-looking. And a lot of them don’t smell too good either; the little ones in particular seem to have a kind of urine and sour milk combination or something. Stay with me on this, the sooner you face it, the better off you’re gonna be. Second premise, not all children are smart and clever. Got that? Kids are like any other group of people; a few winners, a whole lot of losers! There are a lot of loser kids out there who simply aren’t going anywhere and you can’t save them all, you can’t save them all, you gotta let them go, you gotta cut them loose, you gotta stop overprotecting them cause you’re making them too soft. Today’s kids are way too soft. For one thing, there’s too much emphasis on safety; child-proof medicine bottles and fireproof pyjamas, child restraints in car seats, and HELMETS! Bicycle, skateboard, baseball helmets! Kids have to wear helmets now for everything but jerking off! Grown-ups have taken all the fun out of being a kid just to save a few thousand lives. It’s pathetic! It’s pathetic! What’s happening is- what’s happening, you know what it is? These baby-boomers, these soft, fruity baby-boomers are raising an entire generation of soft, fruity kids who aren’t even allowed to have hazardous toys for Christ’s sakes! Hazardous toys, shit, whatever happened to natural selection? Survival of the fittest? The kid who swallows too many marbles doesn’t grow up to have kids of his own! Simple as that! Simple! Nature! Nature knows best. We’re saving entirely too many lives in this country of all ages. Nature should be allowed to do its job of killing off the weak and sickly and ignorant people without interference from airbags and batting helmets! Just think of it as passive eugenics okay? 

Now here’s another example of overprotection. Did you ever notice on the TV news every time some guy with an AK-47 strolls onto a school yard and kills 3 or 4 kids and a couple of teachers, the next day, the next day, the school is overrun with counsellors and psychiatrists and grief counsellors and trauma therapists trying to help the children cope? Shit! When I was in school, someone came to our school and killed 3 or 4 of us; we went right on with our arithmetic! “35 classmates minus 4 equals 31.” We were tough... we were tough. I say if kids can handle the violence at home, they ought to be able to handle the violence in school. I’m not worried about guns in school. You know what I’m waiting for? Guns in church. That’s gonna be a lot of fun and it’ll happen, you watch, some nut will go fucking ape-shit in a church and they’ll refer to him as a “disgruntled worshipper.” 

Here’s another bunch of ignorant shit... school uniforms. Bad theory; the idea that if kids wear uniforms to school, it helps keep order. Don’t these schools do enough damage making all these kids think alike? Now they’re gonna get them to look alike too? And it’s not a new idea; I first saw it in old newsreels from the 1930s, but it was hard to understand cause the narration was in German! 

One more item about children and that is the superstitious nonsense that blames tobacco companies for kids who smoke. Listen, kids don’t smoke because a camel in sunglasses tells them to, they smoke for the same reasons adults do because it relieves anxiety and depression. And you’d be anxious and depressed too if you had to put up with these pathetic, insecure, striving, anal, yuppy parents who enrol you in college before you’re old enough to know which side of the playpen smells the worst! And then they fill you full of riddle and then drag you all over town in search of meaningless structure; little league, club scouts, swimming, soccer, karate, piano, bagpipes, water colors, witchcraft, glass blowing, and dildo practice. They even have play dates for Christ’s sakes; playing is now done by appointment! Whatever happened to “you show me your wee-wee and I’ll show you mine?” Hey, no wonder kids smoke; it helps... not as much as weed but hey, you can’t have everything. You know it’s true; parents are burning these kids out on structure. I think every day; all children should have three hours of daydreaming. Just daydreaming – you could use a little of it yourself by the way – just sit at the window, stare at the clouds, it’s good for you. If you wanna know how you can help your children, leave them the fuck alone!

Now, a little change of pace, a little change of intensity. I want you to know what’s on television tonight on the other channels, always like people to know what it is they’re missing by listening to my shit. First of all, on the Playboy channel, on the Playboy channel, yeah, tonight, they have one of those new reality shows where the people at home send in their own tapes; it’s called “Home Videos of Bad Fucking”. And speaking of that delightful activity, I guess you know last week, Ricky Lake had a special program, “Women Who Fake Orgasms”, so tonight, not to be outdone, Jerry Springer has a night time special, “Men Who Fake Bowel Movements”. Yeah, I think they’re running out of topics on those shows too. Sally Jesse’s next show is “Rapists Who Force Their Victims to Play ‘Yatzee’ Beforehand”. Getting a little strange on daytime TV. Then, later on tonight on the Nostalgia channel, they’re gonna play back to back two of my favourite episodes of “Little House on the Prairie”, first of all, the 1975 Christmas show “A Douchebag for Clara”. Wasn’t that good? Aw... and it was sad toward the end when she cried cause she stuck it in the wrong hole! But as they say in the U.S. Navy, “there is no wrong hole”. And then, right after that, they’re gonna play my favourite “Little House on the Prairie” of all time, “Missy Takes a Big Dump in the Woods”. And that was interesting, I thought, cause she had on the high heels and the long dress, and it was fun to watch how she had to maneuver through the poison sumac, and they didn’t have toilet paper in those days, she had to use a series of pinecones, and she was pulling them in the wrong direction! Yes, I understand toward the end of the show, they had to bleep out a lot of screaming and foul language. And then hey, hey, later on tonight on the Pay-Per-View, on Pay-Per-View, Willie Nelson, Willie Nelson’s concert is on and TV guide-listed all the songs he’s gonna sing; he’s gonna start out with one of my favourites, “Too Drunk to Jerk Off”. Isn’t that a good one? God I love that song! Then he’s gonna do a series of love songs, “Kiss Me, I’m Coming”. Aw that’s a good one. “Kiss me, I’m coming. Oh now, I’m humming, mmmmmm” Well I can’t help it, I am a romantic and I do enjoy the sentimental tunes. Here’s a sad song “I Should’ve Fucked Oh ‘Whatshername’”. Remember that? “I should’ve never played the game, I should’ve fucked oh ‘whatshername’”. Here’s one my mother used to sing around the house, “Your Love Ran Down My Leg and Now, You’re Gone”. Yeah, that one always got to me. I’m glad you feel the same way. Here’s a fine love song, “You Blew My Mind, Now Blow Me”. He’s even gonna do a Stevie Wonder song, “I Just Called To Say I Tested ‘Positive’”. Well, you don’t wanna leave anybody out, you know what I mean? And hey, and hey, what would a Willie Nelson show be without a couple of cowboy songs? He’s gonna do that one George Jones and Weyland Jennings wrote, “Drinking Beer, Taking a Shit, and Passing Out”, then he’s gonna do kind of a traditional western song, one that Gene Autry used to sing when I was a little boy, “It’s Midnight in Montana and I Can’t Get My Dick Outta This Cow”. You know why I like that song so much? Cause it’s a real cowboy song. And by the way, speaking of cattle-fucking, do you know why it is when a rancher fucks a sheep, he does so at the edge of a cliff? It’s so the sheep will push back; just a little tip for you outdoorsmen when you’re out camping.

Now this next thing is about names, that’s all, names. Names are an interest of mine, not a hobby, hobbies cost money, interests are free. This is just about names. Did you ever notice how they name Singles Bars? Singles Bars all have the same cutsy little one-word names that end in ‘s’. Scamps, Tramps, Chaps, Rumours, Cahoots, Cheers, Chances, Mingles, Risks, Gambits, Notions, hey, if I had a Singles Bar, you know what I’d call it? Nipples and Dicks! A little truth in advertising! The Sperm Club! Snatch o’ Rama! The Crotch-e-teria! Frankie’s Fuckery! Café Vagina! Open All Night! Well I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m old fashioned because I believe the name on the outside of a place ought to let you know what’s going on on the inside. Here would be a good name for a gay restaurant, “The Mouthful”, huh? Come on, that’s clever shit, that’s a double pun goddammit, you didn’t think of it! Besides, you don’t have to eat there if you don’t want to. No, no, just go in, have a cocktail... or a high-ball. Here’s another name I don’t care for, TGI Fridays, you know these cutsy-ass little places? TGI Fridays! Hghhh. That whole “TGIF” thing was cute for about an hour... and that was 65 years ago when someone first said it on the radio, not cute anymore, time to start bombing these locations! TGI Fridays, if I had a place like that, you know what I’d call it? HSIOW... Holy Shit, It’s Only Wednesday. I think people would drink a lot more liquor if they thought it was Wednesday all the time. Well I’m just looking for a little honesty in these names. A little honesty, that’s not asking a lot. I’m thinking of opening up a motel and calling it “The Sleep n’ Fuck”. Wouldn’t that be a good honest name for a motel? Who needs this shady “Pines” bullshit? “The Sleep n’ Fuck” motel; get me one of them big neon signs, “Sleep... Fuck... Sleep n’ Fuck!” You put it right at the Jersey entrance to the Holland tunnel you know? Actually “Fuck n’ Sleep” would be a little more accurate wouldn’t it? Best name for a motel would be “The Fuck n’ Smoke n’ Sleep n’ Roll Over and Get Out of Bed and Wash Your Crotch and Grab a Bite, Two Cans of Mr. Pip and Go Home and Fuck a Whole Lot More” cause that’s all they have left in those soda machines on Sunday night, Mr. Pip and Diet Chaster Orange... and that yellow can of Canada Dry Tonic Water that nobody wants! And speaking of naming things, am I the only person in this country who’s laughing when these commercials come on television for “Snapper Lawn Mowers”? Isn’t there anyone else in this fading Republic who knows what a snapper is? A snapper is a pussy okay? That’s what it means, “snapper” means “pussy”. It’s derived from an older, more specific term, “Snappin’ Pussy”... which describes a particular type of pussy, one with good quick muscular control, kind of an elasticity in the vaginal wall that can grab a hold of you and give you a decent hump, you know what I’m talking about. A snappin’ pussy! But now, now “snapper” means any kind of pussy and they’ve named a lawn mower company after it! Now I have seen a few snappers in my day, never seen one that’ll cut grass! No, no, maybe do a little edging, a little edging along the driveway after a party, that’s all you can hope for. But you know, “weed whacker”, you can understand!

Now a lot of these company names and product names are influenced by marketing and advertising people and this next thing is about advertising. By the way, if you should have any cognitive dissonance about the fact that I do commercials for 10-10-220 and still attack advertising up here, well, you’re just gonna have to figure that shit out on your own okay? Now this is called “Advertising Lullaby”, keeping in mind of course that the whole purpose of advertising is to lull you to sleep.

Quality, value, styles, service, selection, convenience, economy savings, performance, experience, hospitality, low rates, friendly service, name brands, easy terms, affordable prices, money-back guarantee, free installation.
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No cash? No problem. No kidding, no fuss, no muss, no risk, no obligation, no red tape, no down payment, no entry fee, no hidden charges, no purchase necessary, no one will call on you, no payments of interest till September.
Limited time only though so act now, order today, send no money, offer good while supplies last, two to a customer, each item sold separately, batteries not included, mileage may vary, all sales are final, allow 6 weeks for delivery, some items not available, some assembly required, some restrictions may apply
Come on in for a free demonstration and a free consultation with our friendly professional staff. Our experienced and knowledgeable sales representatives will help you make a selection that’s just right for you and just right for your budget and say, don’t forget to pick up your free gift, a classic, deluxe, custom, designer, luxury, prestige, high quality, premium select, gourmet pocket pencil sharpener... yours for the asking, no purchase necessary, it’s our way of saying “thank you”.
And if you act now, we’ll include an extra added, free, complementary, bonus gift, a classic, deluxe, custom, designer, luxury, prestige, high quality, premium select, gourmet combination key ring, magnifying glass, and garden hose, in a genuine, imitation, leather-style, carrying case with authentic vinyl trim... yours for the asking, no purchase necessary, it’s our way of saying “thank you”.

Actually, it’s our way of saying “bend over just a little bit farther so we can stick this big advertising dick up your ass a little bit deeper! Pbbt! You miserable, no-good, fucking consumer asshole!” 
Cause you do know folks, living in this country, you’re bound to know that every time you’re exposed to advertising, you realize once again, that America’s leading industry, America’s most profitable business is still the manufacture, packaging, distribution, and marketing of bullshit... high quality, grade-A, prime cut, pure American bullshit, and the sad part is is that most people seem to been indoctrinated to believe that bullshit only comes from certain places, certain sources; advertising, politics, salesmen... not true, bullshit is everywhere, bullshit is rampant, parents are full of shit, teachers are full of shit, clergymen are full of shit, and law enforcement people are full of shit. This entire country, this entire country is completely full of shit and always has been from the Declaration of Independence to the Constitution of the Star Spangled Banner, it’s still nothing more than one big, steaming pile of red, white and blue, all-American bullshit because think of how we started... think of that. This country was founded by a group of slave owners who told us “all men are created equal”. Oh yeah... all men, except for Indians and Niggers and women right? Always like to use that authentic American language. This was a small group of unelected white male, land-holding, slave owners who also suggested their class be the only one allowed to vote. Now that is what’s known as being stunningly and embarrassingly full of shit. And I think Americans really show their ignorance when they say they want their politicians to be honest. What are these fucking cretins talking about? If honesty were suddenly introduced into American life, the whole system would collapse! No one would know what to do! Honesty would fuck this country up! And I think deep down, Americans know that. That’s why the elected and re-elected Bill Clinton! Because the American people like their bullshit right out front where they can get a good strong whiff of it! Clinton might be full of shit but at least he lets you know it. Dolle tried to hide it didn’t he? Dolle kept saying “I’m a plain and honest man!” Bullshit! People don’t believe that! What did Clinton say? He said “Hi folks! I’m completely full of shit and how do you like that?” and the people said “You know something? At least he’s honest.” At least he’s honest about being completely full of shit. 

This is just like the business world, same as business; everybody knows by now, all businessmen are completely full of shit; just the worst kind of low-life, criminal, cocksuckers, you could ever want to run into... a fucking piece of shit businessman. And the proof of it is they don’t even trust each other! They don’t trust one another! When a businessman sits down and negotiates a deal, the first thing he does is to automatically assume that the other guy is a complete lying prick who’s trying to fuck him out of his money! So he’s gotta do everything he can to fuck the other guy a little bit faster and a little bit harder... and he’s gotta do it with a big smile on his face. You know that big, bullshit, businessman smile? And if you’re a customer, whoa... that’s when you get the really big smile! Customers always get the really big smile as the businessman carefully positions himself directly behind the customer and unzips his pants and proceeds to service the account! “I’m servicing this account... this customer needs service.” Now you know what they mean when they say “we specialize in customer service”. Whoever coined the phrase “let the buyer beware” was probably bleeding from the asshole. 
That’s business.
But in the bullshit department, in the bullshit department, a businessman can’t hold a candle to a clergyman... cause I gotta tell you the truth folks, I gotta tell you the truth. When it comes to bullshit, big time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe, in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims... religion. No contest! No contest! Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it... religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day, and the invisible man has a special list of 10 things he does not want you to do! And if you do any of these 10 things, he has a special place full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever till the end of time... but he loves you. He loves you and he NEEDS MONEY! He always needs money! He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow, <snap> just can’t handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story... holy shit! 

But I want you to know something, this is sincere, I want you to know when it comes to believing in God, I really tried, I really, really tried. I tried to believe that there is a God who created each of us in his own image and likeness, loves us very much, and keeps a close eye on things, I really tried to believe that but I gotta tell you, the longer you live, the more you look around, the more you realize something is fucked up. Something is wrong here... war, disease, death, destruction, hunger, filth, poverty, torture, crime, corruption, and the Ice Capades. Something is definitely wrong. This is not good work. If this is the best God can do, I am not impressed. Results like these don’t belong on the résumé of a supreme being. This is the kind of shit you’d expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. And just between you and me, between you and me, in any decently run universe, this guy would have been out on his all-powerful ass a long time ago. And by the way, I say “this guy” because I firmly believe, looking at these results, that if there is a God, it has to be a man; no woman could or would ever fuck things up like this! 

So if, if there is a God, if there is, I think most reasonable people might agree that he’s at least incompetent and maybe, just maybe doesn’t give a shit. Doesn’t give a shit... which I admire in a person and which will explain a lot of these bad results. So rather than be just another mindless religious robot mindlessly and aimlessly and blindly believing that all of this is in the hands of some spooky, incompetent father figure who doesn’t give a shit, I decided to look around for something else to worship, something I can really count on, and immediately, I thought of the sun. Happened like that <snap>, overnight, I became a sun worshipper... well, not overnight, you can’t see the sun at night, the first thing the next morning, I became a sun worshipper. Several reasons... first of all, I can see the sun okay? Unlike some other Gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun. I’m big on that, if I can see something, I don’t know, kind of helps the credibility along you know? So every day, I can see the sun as it gives me everything I need... heat, light, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake... and occasional skin cancer but hey, at least there are no crucifixions and we’re not setting people on fire simply because they don’t agree with us. Sun worship is fairly simple. There’s no mysteries, no miracles, no pageantry, no one asks for money, there are no songs to learn, and we don’t have a special building where we all gather once a week to compare clothing. And the best thing about the sun, it never tells me I’m unworthy, doesn’t tell me I’m a bad person who needs to be saved, hasn’t said an unkind word, treats me fine. 

So I worship the sun but... I don’t pray to the sun. You know why? I wouldn’t presume on our friendship; it’s not polite. I often thought people treat God rather rudely, don’t you? Asking- trillions and trillions of prayers every day, asking and pleading and begging for favours, do this, give me that, I need a new car, want a better job, and most of this praying takes place on Sunday... his day off. It’s not nice, and it’s no way to treat a friend. But people do pray and they pray for a lot of different things... you know, your sister needs an operation on her crotch, your brother was arrested for defecating in a mall, but most of all, you’d really like to fuck that hot little redhead down at the convenience store... you know, the one with the eye patch and the clubbed foot? Huh? Can you pray for that? I think you’d have to. And I say fine, pray for anything you want, pray for anything but what about the divine plan? Remember that? The divine plan... long time ago, God made a divine plan, gave it a lot of thought, decided it was a good plan, put it into practice, and for billions and billions of years, the divine plan has been doing just fine, now you come along and pray for something. Well suppose the thing you want isn’t in God’s divine plan. What do you want him to do? Change his plan? Just for you? Doesn’t that seem a little arrogant? It’s a divine plan! What’s the use of being God if every run-down schmuck with a $2 prayer book can come along and fuck up your plan? And here’s something else, another problem you might have... suppose your prayers aren’t answered, what do you say? “Well it’s God’s will, thy will be done.” Fine, but if it’s God’s will and he’s gonna do what he wants to anyway, why the fuck bother praying in the first place? Seems like a big waste of time to me! Couldn’t you just skip the praying part and go right to his will? It’s all very confusing.

So to get around a lot of this, I decided to worship the sun but, as I said, I don’t pray to the sun. You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci. Joe Pesci. Two reasons... first of all, I think he’s a good actor okay? To me, that counts. Second... he looks like a guy who can get things done. Joe Pesci doesn’t fuck around. In fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having trouble with. For years, I asked God to do something about my noisy neighbour with the barking dog... Joe Pesci straightened that cocksucker out with one visit! It’s amazing what you can accomplish with a simple baseball bat! So I’ve been praying to Joe for about a year now, and I noticed something. I noticed that all the prayers that I used to offer to God and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time, I get what I want, half the time, I don’t, same as God, 50-50, same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe, the wishing well, and the rabbit’s foot, same as the mojo man, same as the voodoo lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat’s testicles, it’s all the same, 50-50, so just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself. And for those of you who look to the Bible for moral lessons and literary qualities, I might suggest a couple of other stories for you. You might wanna look at “The Three Little Pigs”, that’s a good one, has a nice happy ending, I’m sure you’ll like that. Then there’s “Little Red Riding Hood”, although it does have that X-rated part where the Big, Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother, which I didn’t care for by the way. And finally, I’ve often always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from “Humpty Dumpty”. The part I like the best, “all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again”. That’s because there is no Humpty Dumpty and there is no God, none, not one, no God, never was. In fact, I’m gonna put it this way... if there is a God, if there is a God, may he strike this audience dead! See? Nothing happened! Nothing happened! Everybody’s okay! All right? Tell you what... I’ll raise the stakes. I’ll raise the stakes a little bit. If there is a God, may he strike me dead! See? Nothing happened- oh, wait... got a little cramp in my leg... and my balls hurt... plus, I’m blind... I’m bli- oh, now I’m okay again... must’ve been Joe Pesci huh? God bless Joe Pesci! Thank you all very much! Joe blesses you! Thank you all very much! I appreciate it! Bye Bye!