Hello, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Thank you. Thank you all.
Thank you all.
Thank you.
And hello New York.
Hello New York and thank you.
Yeah.
Okay.
It's been a little while...
it's been a little while...
since I've been here and a couple
of things had happened...
in that time.
I'd like to talk
a little bit...
about the War in the Persian Gulf.
Big doings in
the Persian Gulf.
You know my favorite
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 warlike people.
We like war because
we're good at it.
And 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 ten 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.
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 healthcare
to our old people.
But we can bomb the shit
out of your country, all right?
Huh?
We can bomb the shit out
of your country, all right?
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,
also 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!
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'll tell you, 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 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 Defense
and who most of the time...
most of the time function 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 got to tell you, folks,
I don't get all choked up
about yellow ribbons
and American flags.
I consider them...
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 this is.
War is a whole lot of men
standing out in the 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 bether about itselves.
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...
So,
as far as I'm concerned
that whole thing
in the Persian Gulf
was nothing more than a
big 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 have felt a
little better about himself,
and we wouldn't
have had any trouble
over there in the first place.
This whole country
has a manhood problem,
big 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 got to stay in
there and fuck them good,
fuck them all the way,
fuck them till the end!
Fuck them to death!
Fuck them to death!
Fuck them 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 say: "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 want to 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!
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Well, I'll tell you what.
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
gonna talk about.
Race, religion, ethnic
and national backgrounds,
jobs, income, education,
social status, sexuality.
Anything they can do, 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 them showing
up at those jobs.
So...
So, stirring up the shit some,
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 sepparetly,
the things that
make us the same.
They are so small we
rarely even talk about it.
Did 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.
See, you look at a third time,
and somebody says:
"What time is it?"
You say: "I don't know."
Did 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.
Did 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 a station
and there's another train
sitting right next to you
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 brooom.
And for just a split second,
you feel really strong.
How about when you look
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: doowoowoo?
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 want
to slap the bastard.
Did 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,
wart, 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 got to get the
fuck out of here!
Did you ever
notice, sometimes
when you're walking with
your arm around your date,
one of you has to 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.
Or the woman
has to walk like this.
Joey, how are you?
How about when you're
going up a flight of stairs
and you think
there's one more step,
and you go harghh.
And then you have to kind of
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.
Holy shit.
My hips are in my chest.
When you drink grapefruit
juice in the morning,
do you go like this...
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
on the back of your throat,
but you can't do
anything about it
cause you can't
reach it to rub it?
You just have to kind of
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
in the late afternoon
and wake up after dark
and you don't know
what goddamn day it is?
Like when you have
your head on the pillow.
Did you ever notice when you
have your head on the pillow,
if you close the...
if you close the bottom eye,
the pillow is down there?
Then if you switch eyes,
the pillow moves up there.
Oh, holy shit,
Dave, look at this.
The mystery of
the moving pillow.
I think it's related to
the chain link fence
mystery myself, doowoowoo.
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!
We'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's
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're 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".
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 you going to
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 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
traveling with small children."
Well, what about
those passengers
traveling 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 kid 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.
IN the plane!
Let Evel Kneivel
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 flights stop,
preferably at an airport.
It's those sudden unscheduled
cornfield 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.
Boom.
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 seat back forward.
Well, I don't bend that way.
If I could put my
seat back forward,
I'd be in porno movies.
Then they mention
"carry on" luggage.
First time I heard "carrion",
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 Stewardess,
now, it's flight attendant.
You know what I call em?
The lady on the plane.
Sometimes it's a
man on the plane now.
That's good, equality,
I am all in favor of that.
Sometimes, they actually
refer to these people as
uniformed crew members.
Uniformed.
As opposed to that guy
sitting next to you
in the Grateful Dead tee shirt
and the "Fuck You" hat,
who's working on his
ninth little bottle
of Kaluha, 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 favorite 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 belt.
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 ask 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 belts, 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 dwarfs,
cripples, war widows,
paralyzed veterans,
people with broken legs,
anyone who looks like
they can't move too well.
The emotionally disturbed
come in very handy
at a time like this.
You may 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'll 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 cock sucker
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 600 mile an hour
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
in the back is 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 flotation 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.
Thank you.
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
and 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 Marshal 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 traveling
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 am going to look for
things I brought on board.
Which seem to enhance
the likelihood of
my finding something,
wouldn't you say?
They tell me to return my
seat back and tray table
to their original
upright positions.
Fine.
Who's going to
return this guy
in the Grateful Dead
tee 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
going to 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
and she's coming on like
the fucking mayor's wife.
Where the local time...
Well, of course,
it's the local time.
What does she think
we're expecting,
the time in Pango-Pango?
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.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Okay!
Now...
Speaking of places to eat...
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 and Barf.
Well, they were going to
call it the Fork and 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 for an anorexic,
you know?
Rich cunt, don't want to eat.
Fuck her.
Fuck her.
Don't eat, I give a shit.
Like I'm supposed to be
real concerned about this.
I don't want to 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 goddamned
disease is that anyway?
I don't want to 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 desease.
This has got to be the
only country in the world
that could ever have
come up with bulimia.
Got to 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 a
couple of weeks overdue
to drop high explosives
on 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 warlike lot.
We can't stand not to be
fucking with somebody.
We couldn't wait for that
cold war to be over, could we?
Couldn't wait for that
cold war to be over so we
could go and play with
our toys in the sand.
Go 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 a Nintendo pilot, then...
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 have to 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 war on everything!
We have the war on crime,
the war on poverty, the war on litter,
the war on cancer,
the war on drugs.
But you ever notice
we got no war on
homelessness, ahn?
No war on homelessness.
Do you know why?
There's no money
in that problem.
No money to be made
off of the homeless.
If you could find a solution...
If you could find a
solution to homelessness
where the corporate swine,
and the politicians
could steal a couple
of million dollars each,
you'd see the streets of
America begin to clear up
pretty goddamn quick,
I'll guarantee you that!
I will guarantee you that!
Yeah!
I got...
I got an idea, you know
what they oughta do?
Give the homeless
their own magazine.
Give their own magazine.
It'll make 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.
Sky-diving,
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's sakes!
Walking!
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 them their own magazine.
Give them 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?
That's the kind
of answer you get
from a conservative
American businessman,
who's gonna say:
"Yeah, let them read it.
When they get
finished reading it,
they can use it to plug up
the holes in them piano crates
they all seem
to like to live in."
A good sound, practical,
conservative American
business solution.
I got an idea about homelessness.
You know what we oughta 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 you
gonna to put it?
That's fine, but
where you gonna put it?
Where are you gonna put it?
Nobody wants you to build low
cost housing near their house.
People don't
want it near them.
We got something
in this country.
You've heard of it,
it's called "nimby",
N-l-M-B-Y,
"Not In My Back Yard!"
People don't want anything,
any kind of social help
located anywhere near them.
You try to open up
a halfway house,
try to open up a drug rehab
or an alcohol rehab center,
try to do a homeless
shelter somewhere,
try to open up a little home
for some retarded people
who want to work their
way into the community,
people say: "Not
in my back yard!"
People don't want
anything near them,
especially if it might
help somebody else.
Part of the great American
spirit of generosity
we hear about.
Prrrr.
Prrrr.
Great generous
American spirit!
You can ask an
indian about that!
Ask an Indian about...
if you can find one.
You got to locate
the Indian first.
We've made him just
a little difficult to find.
Or if you need current data,
select a black family
at random and ask them
how generous
America has been to them.
People don't want
anything near them,
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 neighborhood?
It seems to me
like it would make it
a pretty crime free
area, don't you think?
You think a lot of crack heads,
and pimps, and hookers,
and thieves are
gonna be hanging around
in front of a fucking prison?
Bullshit!
They ain't coming
anywhere near them!
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 going to do?
Hang around,
check real estate trends?
Bullshit!
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 back yard!"
People don't want
anything near them.
Except military bases.
They don't mind that,
do they? They like that!
Give them an army base,
give them a navy base.
Makes them 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 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 neighborhoods,
land that is
currently being wasted
on a meaningless,
mindless activity
engaged in...
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,
too much room
in this country!
It is... It is
an arrogant game
on it's 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 pinheaded 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 Islands
and a Delaware
for the homeless
on the land currently
being wasted in this
meaningless, mindless,
arrogant, elitist, racist,
there's another thing.
The only blacks you
will find in country clubs
are carrying trays.
And a boring game!
Boring game,
for boring people.
Did 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 happen.
No!
No chance of that happening.
Dorko in the plaid knickers
is going to hit it again
and walk some more.
Let these rich cock suckers
play miniature golf.
Let them fuck with a windmill
for an hour and a half or so.
See if there's any real
skill among these people.
Now, I know there are
some people who play golf
who don't consider
themselves rich.
Fuck them!
And shame on them
for engaging in an
arrogant, elitist pastime.
Hey, here's another place
we could put some
low-cost housing:
Cemeteries!
There's another idea
whose time has passed.
Saving all the dead people at
for one part of town?
What the hell kind of a
medieval, superstitious,
religious bullshit
idea is that?
Plow these motherfuckers up.
Plow them 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.
Thank you.
I appreciate it!
I appreciate that.
Good, I'll have a little sip of this.
The water, I assume, is still
safe to drink in New York, huh?
No!
Actually...
Actually, I gotta be fair with you.
I'm only setting
you up a little bit,
it's just that...
...another 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 gotten a
positive answer yet.
Not one.
Last year I was in 40 states,
a hundred 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
their 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 that 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.
No.
They're also my hobby.
You see, I'm an entropy fan.
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 favorite
thing on television?
Bad news!
Bad news and disasters and
accidents and catastrophes.
I'm want to see some
explosions and fires.
I want to see shit blown up
and bodies flying around!
I'm not interested
in the budget!
I don't care about
tax negotiations!
I don't want to 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 want to see a
paint factory blowing up.
I want to see an
oil refinery explode.
I want to see a tornado
hit a church on Sunday!
I want to see people...
I wanna know
that some guy
ran into the K-mart
with an automatic weapon
firing at the clerks.
I want to see
thousands of people
in the street
killing policemen.
I want to hear about
a nuclear meltdown.
I want to know
the stock market
dropped 2,000
points in one day.
I want to 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 of the sky
and people are running around
trying to get out of the way.
Exciting shit!
That's why
I watch auto racing.
It's the only reason
I watch auto racing.
I'm waiting for
some accidents, man!
I want to see
some cars on fire!
I don't care about a
bunch of redneck jack-offs
driving 500 miles in a circle!
500 miles in a circle?
Children can do that,
for Christ's sakes!
Doesn't impress me!
I want to see some schmuck
with his hair on fire
running around,
punching his own head
trying to put it out!
I want to see
the pits explode!
I wanna see a car doing a
200 mile-an-hour cartwheel!
Hey, where else
besides auto racing
am I going to see
a 23-car collision
and not be in
the son of a bitch?
And if a car flies
out of control,
lands on the stands
and kills fifty
spectators, fine!
Fuck them!
Serves them right.
They paid to get in.
Let them 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
and say: "Oh, isn't that awful!"
"Isn't that too bad?"
Brrr! Lying asshole!
Lying asshole!
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
"Six thousand people were
killed on an explosion today!"
You say: "Where, where?"
He says: "In Pakistan!"
You say "Oh, fuck Pakistan!
Too far away to be any fun!
But if he says it
happened in your hometown,
you'll say "Wow! 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 got to 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 these
people around you?
Country's 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 is arrogant meddling.
It's what got us in
trouble in the first place.
Doesn't anybody
understand that?
Interfering with nature.
Over 90 percent...
Over,
way over, 90 percent
of all the species
that have ever
lived on this planet,
ever lived, are gone! Whoosh.
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 behavior.
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 going to
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 know how to
take care of ourselves yet.
We haven't learned how
to care to one another.
We're going to save
the fucking planet?
I'm getting
tired of that shit.
Tired of that shit!
Tired!
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 Volvos.
Besides,
environmentalists don't
give a shit about the planet!
They don't care
about the planet!
Not in the
abstract, they don't.
Not in the
abstract, they don't.
Do you know what
they're interested in?
A clean place to live,
their own habitat.
They're worried that
some day in the future
they might be
personally inconvenienced.
Narrow, unenlightened self
interest, doesn't impress me.
Besides there's nothing
wrong with the planet.
Nothing wrong
with the planet.
The planet is fine!
The people are fucked!
Difference, difference!
The planet is fine.
Compared to the people,
the planet is doing great!
Been here four and
a half billion years!
Did you ever think
about the arithmetic?
Planet has been here
four and a half billion years.
We've been here, what?
A hundred thousand?
Maybe two hundred thousand...
And we've only been
engaged in heavy industry
for a little over
two hundred years.
Two hundred years
versus four and a half billion!
And we have the conceit
to think that
somehow we're a threat?
That somehow we're
gonna put in jeopardy
this beautiful little
blue-green ball
that's just a-floating
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, sun spots,
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 some
alluminum cans
are going to
make a difference?
The planet...
The planet...
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.
Planet will be here
and we'll be long gone.
Just another failed mutation!
Just another close-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 at Pompeii,
who are frozen
into position...
from volcanic ash
how the planet's doing.
Wanna know if
the planet's alright?
Ask those people at
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 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...
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... In the manner of a
large organism like a beehive
or an ant colony can
muster a defense,
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... Hum! Viruses!
Viruses may be good.
They seem
vulnerable to viruses.
And 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't I?
So I don't worry
about the little things,
bees, trees, whales, snails.
I think we're part
of a greater wisdom
than we will
ever understand,
a higher order.
Call it what you want.
Know what I call it?
The big electron.
The big electron.
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 take care of somebody else!
Thank you, good night!