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.
Free admission, free appraisal, free alterations, free delivery, free
estimates, free home trial, and free parking.
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!