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!!! “...an 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?!
“...you 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: “...in 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!
