Original subtitles

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

I'm a modern man, a man for the millennium. Digital and smoke -free. A

diversified, multicultural, post -modern deconstructionist, politically,

anatomically, and ecologically incorrect.

I've been up -linked and downloaded, I've been inputted and outsourced, I

the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.

I'm a high -tech low -life, a cutting -edge, state -of -the -art, bi -coastal

multitasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new wave, but I'm old school, and my inner child is outward bound.

I'm a hot -wired, heat -seeking, warm -hearted, cool customer, voice

and biodegradable. I interface in my database.

My database is in cyberspace. So I'm interactive, I'm hyperactive, and from

to time, I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, riding the wave, dodging the

pushing the envelope.

I'm on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.

I got no need for coke and speed. I got no urge to binge and purge. I'm in the

moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.

A high -concept, low -profile, medium -range ballistic missionary.

A streetwise smart bomb. A top -gun, bottom -feeder. I wear power ties. I

power lies. I take power naps. I run victory laps. I'm a totally ongoing, big

-foot, slam -dunk rainmaker with a proactive outreach.

A raging workaholic.

I'm a working rageaholic, out of rehab and in denial.

I got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a

personal agenda.

You can't shut me up, you can't dumb me down, because I'm tireless and I'm

wireless. I'm an alpha male on beta blockers.

I'm a non -believer and an overachiever, laid -back but fashion -forward, up

-front, down -home, low -rent, high -maintenance, supersized, long -lasting,

high -definition, fast -acting, oven -ready, and built to last.

I'm a hands -on, foot -loose, knee -jerk, head -case, prematurely post

-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate mail.

But I'm feeling, I'm caring, I'm healing, I'm sharing. A supportive,

nurturing primary caregiver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long

bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow. I read junk mail, I eat junk

food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I'm gender -specific, capital -intensive, user -friendly, and lactose

intolerant.

I like rough sex.

I like rough sex. I like tough love. I use the F word in my email and the

software on my hard drive is hardcore. No soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini mall. I bought a minivan at a mega store.

I eat fast food in the slow lane. I'm toll free, bite size, ready to wear and

come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory authorized, hospital tested, clinically proven,

scientifically formulated medical miracle.

I've been pre -washed, pre -cooked, pre -heated, pre -screened, pre -approved,

pre -packaged, post -dated, freeze -dried, double -wrapped, vacuum -packed,

I have an unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude, but I'm the real deal. Lean and mean, cocked, locked, and ready

to rock. Rough, tough, and hard to bluff.

I take it slow. I go with the flow. I ride with the tide. I get gliding my

stride. Driving and moving, sailing and spinning, jiving and grooving, wailing

and winning. I don't snooze, so I don't lose.

I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hardy, and

lunchtime is crunch time.

I'm hanging in, there ain't no doubt, and I'm hanging tough over and out.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Hey, I got 341 days sober, and next year's my 50th anniversary of the show

business. Let's do a fucking show, huh?

You know something people don't talk about in public anymore?

Pussy farts.

So, anyway.

Now, I said that on my last HBO show, and apparently some people don't know

a pussy fart is.

Because I got some inquiries.

Here's the deal.

A pussy fart is like when you're making love to a woman who's got a little extra

air in her vagina.

And every time you thrust forward, it's kind of a...

And

the

two of you are just lying there, each of you is wondering if the other one

farted.

And the man is usually thinking, maybe she farts when she comes.

Maybe she took a shit.

Man, I got to stay out of that fucking bar.

Another word you don't hear too often is dingleberries.

You know, you never hear it on Meet the Press.

The dingleberry solution, dingleberry gate, nothing.

I think it's because dingleberries is one of them words you don't say too much

past your 10th birthday.

It's not a grown -up's word. It's a kid's word.

Dingleberries!

Always sounded kind of Christmassy to me.

Don't you think it has a holiday ring to it?

Dingleberries!

John, you might want to hang some dingleberries over the front door.

Then when Marianne comes over, she can kiss you under the dingleberries.

It is to be devoutly wished that she would kiss me under the dingleberries.

Cornhole is another word you don't hear enough.

You don't hear that nearly enough, you know? It's a good word. It's a solid

word. It's a tough word. It's a man's kind of word. It's got a masculine

It's like shotgun and ash can and tote truck.

Cornhole.

Everything's been sanitized now and cleaned up. First with these fucking

Christians. You just start with them.

You know.

That's just one.

Yeah.

You know.

Let's not leave out these PC campus liberal assholes. I mean, they're just

fucking bad from a different direction.

But everything's different.

Everything's been polished up now. It's anal intercourse.

Anal rape.

Bullshit. Cornhole.

Now, I'm a big fan of the primetime crime shows.

I like all of them pretty much. You know, I like Law and Order and all the

spinoffs of that. I like CSI and all of those spinoffs. Yeah, because they're

forensic shows, you know. And I'm just waiting for one night to be sitting

watching one of them shows.

And the chief medical examiner turns to the lead detective and says, Steve.

Looks to me like after they killed this guy, the perpetrators rolled him over

and cornholed him about 30 or 40 times.

Look at that.

That there is a posthumous multiple cornhole entry wound.

In prison, it's a social activity.

Yeah, it's right up there on the bulletin board.

Checkers, handball, cornholing.

Now, just to change the subject a little bit, do you realize, do you realize

that right this second, right now, somewhere around the world,

some guy is getting ready to kill himself?

Isn't that great?

Isn't that great?

Did you ever stop and think about that kind of shit?

I do.

It's fun.

And it's interesting, and it's true.

Right this second, some guy is getting ready to bite the big bazooka.

Because statistics show that every year, a million people commit suicide. A

million.

That's 2 ,800 a day.

That's one every 30 seconds.

There goes another guy.

And I say guy, say guy, because men are four times more likely than women to

commit suicide, even though women attempted more.

So men are better at it.

That's something else you gals will want to be working on.

Well, if you want to be truly equal, you're going to have to start taking

own lives in greater numbers.

But I just think it's interesting to know.

Interesting. That's a big word in this show for me.

Interesting to know that at any moment, the odds are good that some guy is

dragging a chair across the garage floor, trying to get it right underneath

ceiling beam.

Wouldn't want to be too far off center. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing

right.

Somewhere else, another guy is going over and getting a gun out of a dresser

drawer.

Somebody else is opening up a brand new package of razor blades.

Maybe he's struggling with the cellophane a little bit, you know.

Oh, shit, it's always something. God damn it.

I just think that's interesting as hell.

That's probably the most interesting thing you can do with your life.

End it.

I don't think I could do that, though. Could you?

God.

I couldn't commit suicide if my life depended on it.

But I understand it, you know. I think I do.

I don't wonder about it. I don't wonder, well, why'd he do that? And what was

going through his mind?

You know what I wonder?

Where'd he find the fucking time?

Who's got time to be committing suicide? Aren't you busy? I got shit to do.

Suicide would be way down on my list.

Probably down past lighting my own house on fire.

I might want to try a little self -mutilation first.

You know, take a couple of hunks out of my arm.

See if I like the general idea.

Because you've got to have priorities, man.

And you've got to have a plan, too, for something like that. You've got to plan,

that's it.

People don't just run out the house and jump off a bridge.

There are things you have to decide.

Timing is important.

When you're going to do it.

Well, let me see now.

Wednesday's out. Got to take Timmy to the circus.

Survivors on on Thursday.

Friday I got my colon cleansing.

Folks are coming over on Sunday.

Sunday.

By God, that'd be just a thing.

Maybe mom will find my body.

Serve her right for fucking me up the way she did.

Then you have to pick a method.

How are you going to do it?

Well, let me see.

Afraid of heights, that's no good.

Can't swallow pills, don't like the sight of blood.

Fucking ovens are electric.

I'd lie down in front of a train, except the Amtrak can't come through here in

30 goddamn years.

Maybe I'll just take a gun and shoot myself in the mouth.

Suppose I miss.

People be laughing at me.

Suppose I live.

I have a big fucking hole in my head.

I have to wear some kind of dumbass hat.

Well, I guess I'd just hang myself.

That'd be good.

Gotta get a rope.

Oh, shit, it's always something.

I got a rope in the garage.

It's got a lot of grease and paint on it.

Don't want to get this stuff on my neck.

Walmart's having a special on rope this weekend.

No sense spending a lot of money to kill myself.

Then again, I can always put it on my credit card. I'll never have to pay the

fucking thing.

That's it then. I'm hanging myself and Walmart's paying for it.

What's next?

A note.

Oh, Jesus.

Got to express myself.

Hell, if I could express myself, I wouldn't be thinking of doing something

this.

Where's a pen?

Can never find a pen.

Told the kids not to move the pen away from that telephone.

Goddamn kids.

I'd just kill them too.

Make a one -man family package deal.

Ah, here's a pen.

I'll just jam it into my fucking neck and get it over with.

Let's see now.

Where do you put the date? Upper left.

I can never remember that.

To whom it may concern.

Sounds kind of impersonal.

Dear Marzell.

Leaves out the kids.

I know. Hey guys, guess what?

Keep on reading.

How are you? I hope you are fine.

I am not fine.

As you can no doubt tell from me hanging here from the ceiling fixture.

You are the ones who drove me to this.

I was doing just fine until you fuckers came along.

I hope you're happy now that I'm goddamn dead.

Sign the corpse in this room.

P .S. Fuck you people.

That would be a good note. I don't think a writer could ever commit suicide. Do

you? A writer would be too busy working on a note all goddamn year.

Trying to get it just right. First draft, second draft, third revision,

new ending. Finally, it turned into a book proposal and I have a reason to

That wouldn't work. I think about stuff like that. It's interesting to me. Like

I said, certain things are interesting.

Suicide's interesting.

Life is filled with interesting things.

That's why I could never commit suicide.

I'm having too much fun keeping an eye on you folks.

Watching what you do.

Human behavior.

That's what I like.

Humans do some really interesting things.

Like, besides killing ourselves, we also kill each other.

Murder. And we're the only ones who do that, by the way. We're the only species

on Earth that deliberately kills members of our own species for personal gain.

Or pleasure. Sometimes it's just fun.

We're also the only species that deliberately kills members of another

for personal gain.

Or pleasure. That's what hunters do. They kill for pleasure. That's us. Human

beings. Interesting folks.

Murderers.

Here's an interesting form of murder we come up with.

Assassination. You know what's interesting about assassination?

Well, not only does it change those popularity polls in a big fucking hurry.

But it's also interesting to notice who it is we assassinate. Do you ever notice

who it is? Stop to think of who it is we kill.

It's always people who've told us to live together in harmony and try to love

one another.

Jesus, Gandhi, Lincoln, John Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King,

Evers, Malcolm X, John Lennon. They all said, try to live together peacefully.

Bam!

Right in the fucking head.

Apparently, we're not ready for that.

Yeah, that's difficult behavior for us.

We're too busy thinking around, sitting around trying to think up ways to kill

each other.

Here's one we came up with.

It's efficient, too.

Genocide, you know?

Killing large numbers of people simply because they don't look like you, they

don't talk like you, and they don't have the same kind of hats you do.

You ever notice that any time you see two groups of people who really hate

other? Chances are good they're wearing different kind of hats.

Keep an eye on that. It might be important.

But anytime there's genocide, there are always mass graves.

Every time we kill some dictator and go march into his country, we always find

mass graves. Thousands and thousands of dead bodies of people the dictator

killed. And everybody over here gets horrified. Oh, mass graves, mass graves.

Well, shit, what's a guy supposed to do with a couple thousand people he just

killed? Dig separate holes? Fuck that shit.

It's labor intensive.

Get real.

The whole idea of killing a large number of people at one time in one place is

convenience.

Efficiency. Throw them in the fucking hole.

Look at it this way. At least the dictator had the decency to throw a

dirt on them.

Give the guy some credit.

Dictator's a busy man.

Got a lot on his mind.

Like trying to figure out who's planning to kill him.

So he can pick them up, put them in prison, and torture them.

Here's another one of our interesting heartwarming behaviors we came up with.

Somewhere along the way, torturing each other.

You want to hear a really cool torture that the Romans invented?

They also use it as a form of capital punishment. It's really creative.

They would take the guy in question, stuff him in a burlap sack, seal the

up real tight and throw it in the river. But, and here's the creative part,

inside the sack with the guy, they would put a dog, a monkey and a snake.

Okay?

A dog, a monkey, and a snake. That's fucking creative.

Imagine being inside a burlap sack, underwater, in the dark, sitting next to

drowning monkey.

Think he'd be moving around a little bit?

The dog would be going, ape shit, we know that.

And the snake, well, he'd probably be getting curious about what all the

activity was inside the sack.

He might do anything.

Whatever he did, it would probably involve venom and his teeth.

You know what you'd be doing?

You'd be praying to God that the snake bit the monkey and the dog ate the

Praying. Yeah. Then it would be just you and the dog.

Man and his best friend.

Drowning together.

Maybe before you died you could teach him a few tricks.

Roll over and play dead wouldn't be too difficult, would it?

Just a thought. Just a playful thought.

By the way, I assume you're noticing that all these activities I'm

murder, torture, genocide, these are all things human beings do, not animals,

those creatures we feel superior to.

This is us.

Here's another one of our spiritually uplifting activities.

We don't do this one much anymore, but it used to be really big.

Human sacrifice.

I miss that.

The Aztecs loved human sacrifice, and they were good at it.

Well, they got a lot of practice.

For instance, right around the year 1500, the Aztecs sacrificed 80 ,000

in one ceremony.

Okay?

80 ,000 people, one ceremony. You know what the occasion was?

They were opening a new temple.

Nothing like religion for a little entertainment, huh?

Especially that old -time religion.

Now, how the Aztecs went about their sacrificing? Here's how they did it.

They would do it right out in public, right in front of everybody, big town,

beautiful city square, 20, 30 ,000 people looking on. They would take the

lay him on an altar, cut his chest open, pull his heart out, and hold it up in

the air while it was still beating.

Got that?

Cut his chest open, pull his heart out, and hold it up in the air while it was

still beating.

You know what you call that?

Theater.

That is fucking theater.

And although the procedure may have been a little too crude to be considered the

first bypass surgery,

It could easily be seen as an early form of organ donor program.

The Aztecs, human beings, just like us.

Not too long ago, 500 years, Columbus had already landed. This was just south

here, Mexico.

And by the way, those hearts didn't go to waste. Did not go to waste. Because

right after the ceremonies, the royal family, naturally, would enjoy another

of our amusing activities, cannibalism.

Cannibalism. Imagine that, chowing down on another human being.

You got to be all out of beef jerky, man.

You got to be really fucking hungry.

But it happens, doesn't it? It still happens to this day.

Bunch of people stranded in the wilderness, run out of Pop -Tarts, got

something.

Might as well be Steve.

And how do you decide who to eat first? How do you decide who's first on the

barbecue rack? Do you pick on the little guy because he's skinny and he can't

fight back?

Or do you all gang up on the bodybuilder because he got a lot of steaks and

chops on him?

These are things human beings have to consider.

One more of these charming diversions of ours.

Necrophilia.

Huh? Now there's a hobby for you.

Fucking a corpse.

Takes a special kind of guy, don't you think?

But it happens. It happens.

More than you might think.

It happens among humans. Animals don't do that.

Animals don't fuck their dead.

A rat will do a lot of gross things, but he will not fuck a dead rat.

It wouldn't even occur to him.

Only a human being would think to fuck someone who just died.

We've got to be the most interesting critters on the planet.

And then we wonder why a UFO doesn't just land and say hello.

Oh.

You know the best thing about necrophilia?

You don't have to bring flowers.

Yeah, usually they're already there.

Isn't that nice? It's nice.

It's convenient.

Human beings will do anything.

Anything. I am convinced.

That's why when all those beheadings started in Iraq, didn't bother me.

I took it right in stride. A lot of people here were horrified. Ah,

beheadings.

What, are you fucking surprised?

Just one more form of extreme human behavior.

Besides, who cares about some mercenary civilian contractor from Oklahoma who

gets his head cut off?

Fuck him.

Fuck him. Hey, Jack, you don't want to get your head cut off?

Stay the fuck in Oklahoma.

Stay the fuck in Oklahoma.

They ain't cutting off heads in Oklahoma, as far as I know.

But I do know this.

You strap on a gun and go strutting around some other man's country, you

be ready for some action, Jack.

You better be ready for some action. People are touchy about that sort of

And let me ask you this while I have you good, clean Americans here.

This is a moral question, not rhetorical. I'm looking for the answer.

the moral difference between...

Cutting off one guy's head, or two, or three, or five, or ten, and dropping a

big bomb on a hospital and killing a whole bunch of sick kids.

Has anybody in authority given you an explanation of the difference? I have

gotten an email on this. No one will talk to me. I haven't gotten a postcard,

not a fucking instant message, nothing.

Now, in case you're wondering why I have a certain interest and fascination,

let's call it, with torture and beheadings and all of these things I've

mentioned, it's because each of these items reminds me in life, every time one

of them occurs, it reminds me over and over again what beasts we human beings

really are. You know, when you get right down to it, when you get right down to

it. Human beings are nothing more than ordinary jungle beasts, savages. No

different from the Cro -Magnon people who lived 25 ,000 years ago on the

Pleistocene forest, eating grubs off of rotten logs.

No different. Our DNA hasn't changed substantially in 100 ,000 years.

We're still operating out of the lower brain, the reptilian brain, fight or

flight, kill or be killed.

We like to think we've evolved and advanced because we can build a

an airplane, travel underwater.

We can write a sonnet, paint a painting, compose an opera. But you know

something? We're barely out of the jungle on this planet.

Barely out of the fucking jungle. What we are is semi -civilized beasts with

baseball caps and automatic weapons.

And this civilization of ours that we're so proud of, this civilization with its

so -called civilized behavior,

You ever stop and realize how fragile all this is? How fragile the whole

structure, how easily it could all just break right down? Just break right down.

Wouldn't take much.

Probably happened in less than two years. Wouldn't take much to throw us

back into barbaric times.

All you'd have to do would be eliminate electricity.

That's all.

But completely eliminate electricity.

So, no electricity, no lights.

You're back to candles and lanterns, campfires and bonfires. Batteries

be recharged.

Generators couldn't be refueled because fuel is pumped electrically.

So is water, by the way. So no lights, no fuel, no water, no computers. And

computers run everything.

And among the many things computers run that operate on electricity are all of

these security systems in all of our jails and prisons and nuthouses.

So suddenly...

Without electricity, all across America, the gates and cell doors of

penitentiaries and mental institutions would fly open.

And out would come all of our old friends.

The ones who've been away at camp.

Serial killers, mass murderers, felony rapists, armed robbers, carjackers, home

invaders, thieves, burglars, kidnappers, sadists, pedophiles, sexual predators,

pimps, pushers, pornographers, speed freaks, crackheads, sick junkies, all

ethnic street gangs, black, Spanish, and Asian gangs, Japanese Yakuza, Russian

mafia, neo -Nazis, white supremacists, Sicilian hitmen, Italian mobsters,

Jamaican and Colombian drug gangs.

And those are just the ones we caught.

Let's not forget their counterparts still on the outside right now, waiting

hook up with their prison buddies so they can start a new organization, the

American Federation of Sociopaths.

Just what the country needs, another special interest group.

Eight to ten million of them there'd be, counting all the parolees and all the

probationers and the ones who've never been caught. Eight to ten million

angry, violent, sexually hyperactive alpha males.

With nothing to do.

No hobbies.

No medications.

No scruples.

Just a bunch of bad guys looking for a good time.

Maybe dropping by your house.

Hi. Hope we're not intruding.

Got any beer?

Oh, good. Well, I got about 1 ,400 really thirsty guys here.

How about women? Got any women?

Oh.

Just your wife, huh?

Well, I think we can make that work.

Now, boys, there's a lady here.

So I want you to mind your manners and wait your turn.

Police wouldn't help you. They'd be gone at the first sign of trouble. They'd be

home protecting their own families. So would the Army and the National Guard.

You'd be alone. You'd be on your own. You'd be SOL and JWF. Shit out of luck

jolly well fucked.

Shit out of luck and jolly well fucked.

After a couple of years of living like that, beheadings would be the least of

your problems.

People would be lining up to be beheaded.

So let's get back to suicide, which now seems like a reasonable alternative.

Suicide is an interesting topic to me because it's an inherently interesting

decision to decide voluntarily not to exist anymore. It's profound.

You know what it is? It's the ultimate makeover.

That's why I think it belongs on television.

In this depraved culture we live in, with all these reality shows, suicide

television will be a natural. I'll bet you could have an all -suicide channel

cable TV.

I'll bet you. Shit, they got all golf. What the fuck, huh?

God damn.

Jesus.

You ever watch golf? You ever watch golf? It's like watching flies. Fuck.

If you can get a bunch of brainless assholes to sit down and waste a Sunday

afternoon on that kind of shit, you know you can get some people to watch some

suicides. All day long, 24 hours a day, nothing but suicides. Must die TV.

You'd get a lot of people watching that shit. You'd get a lot of people

volunteering to be on there, too.

Just so their friends can see them on TV.

People are fucking goofy.

You'd get a lot of volunteers. You'd get all them leftover assholes from Let's

Make a Deal.

They'd be lined up around the block, pushing each other out of the way,

on funny capes and caps and hats and makeup and calling themselves Captain

Suicide. Guys would be competing for most unusual methods. People would be

jumping off of silos, lighting themselves on fire, putting rat poison

taco, drinking, mopping clothes, sticking mothballs up their ass.

You'd probably have some weird fuck show up who figured out how to kill himself

with dental floss and a stinger missile.

People are fucking goofy.

I bet you could find you a married couple. In this country, shit, I bet

could find a married couple in one of them trailer parks or something who'd be

perfectly willing to sit in a love seat and blow each other's heads off with

shotguns while a love song is playing.

People are fucking nuts.

This country is full of nitwits and assholes. You ever notice that? Oh, my

goodness, yes.

Oh, my goodness, right.

Yeah.

nitwits, assholes, fuck -ups, scumbags, jerk -offs, and dipshits.

And they all vote.

They all vote.

In fact, sometimes you get the impression they're the only ones who

You can usually tell who's been doing the voting by looking at the fucking

election returns.

Man, it sure ain't me out there wasting my time with a meaningless activity like

that. You know those people on the Jerry Springer show?

Those are the average Americans.

Oh yeah, believe me, below average can't get on the show.

Can't get on. Below average are sitting home watching that shit on TV.

Getting ready to go out and vote.

Filling out their sample ballot.

People are fucking dumb.

You can say what you want about this country and I love this place. I love

freedoms we used to have.

I love it. I love that.

I love it when it didn't take a fucking catastrophe to get us to care for one

another. I love the fact that we're on camera all the time from all angles. But

you know what? You can say what you want about America. And I say I love this

place. I wouldn't have it any other way. I wouldn't live in any other time in

history in any other place. But say what you want about America. Land of the

free, home of the brave.

We got some dumbass motherfuckers floating around this country.

Dumbass motherfuckers. You know?

Yeah.

Now, obviously, that doesn't include this audience. I understand that.

You seem intelligent and perceptive, but the rest of them, holy jumping fucking

shitballs.

Dumber than a second coat of paint.

And this ain't just ranting and raving. This ain't just blowing off steam. I got

a little evidence to support my claim.

It just seems to me, seems to me, that only a really low IQ population

could have taken this beautiful continent,

This magnificent American landscape that we inherited.

Well, actually, we stole it from the Mexicans and the Indians, but hey, it

nice when we stole it.

It looked pretty good. It was pristine.

Paradise.

Have you seen it lately?

Have you taken a good look at it lately? It's fucking embarrassing.

Only a nation of unenlightened half -wits.

could have taken this beautiful place and turned it into what it is today a

shopping mall.

A big fucking shopping mall.

You know that?

That's all you got.

That's all you've got here, folks. Mile after mile of mall after mall.

Many, many malls. Major malls and mini malls. They put the mini malls in

the major malls. And in between the mini malls, they put the mini marts. And in

between the mini marts, you've got the car lots, gas stations, muffler shops,

laundromats, cheap hotels, fast food joints, strip clubs, and dirty

America the beautiful. One big transcontinental commercial cesspool.

And how do the people feel about all this? How do the people feel about

in a coast -to -coast shopping mall? Well, they think... It's just fucking

dandy.

They think it is cool as can be because Americans love the mall. They love the

mall. That's where they get to satisfy their two most prominent addictions at

the same time, shopping and eating.

Millions of semi -conscious Americans day after day shuffling through the

shopping and eating, especially eating. Americans love to eat. They are fatally

attracted to the slow death of fast food.

Hot dogs, corn dogs, triple bacon, cheeseburgers, deep fried butter dipped

pork fat and cheese whiz, mayonnaise soaked, barbecued, mozzarella, patty

Americans will eat anything. Anything.

Anything. If you were selling sautéed raccoon's assholes on a stick, Americans

would buy them and eat them.

Especially if you dipped them in butter and put a little salsa on them.

This country is big time, pig time. Forget the bald eagles. You know what

national emblem of this country ought to be? A big bowl of macaroni and cheese.

A big bowl, because everything in this country is king size.

King size, extra large, and super jumbo. Especially the fucking people.

Have you seen some of the people in this country? Have you taken a good look at

some of these big fat motherfuckers walking around? Big fat motherfuckers.

Oh, my God.

Huge piles of redundant protoplasm lumbering through the malls like a fleet

interstate buses.

The people in this country are immense.

Massive bellies, monstrous thighs, and big, fat fucking asses.

And if you stand there for a minute and you look at one of them, you look at one

of them, you begin to wonder, how does this woman take a shit?

How does she shit?

And even more frightening, how does she wipe her ass?

Can she even locate her asshole?

She must require assistance.

Are paramedics trained in this field?

And standing right next to her, of course, with a plate full of nachos and

mouthful of pie, is her clueless fucking husband, Joe Sixpack.

With his monstrous swollen beer belly hanging dangerously out over his beer

buckle, this guy ain't seen his dick since the Nixon administration.

And if you stand there and you look at the two of them, you begin to wonder to

yourself, do these people fuck?

Is this man actually capable of fucking this woman?

It doesn't seem structurally possible that these two people could achieve

penetration.

Maybe they're in that Cirque du Soleil or something.

I'm telling you, the people in this country...

Every half, every one of them is 50 pounds overweight. They are gargantuan.

And in the summertime, God help us, in the summertime, they all want to wear

short pants.

Jesus, Lord, protector of all that is good and holy, deliver me from fat

in short pants.

They all got short pants, big bellies, fat thighs, and dumb kids. Short pants,

big bellies, fat thighs, and dumb kids. Every one of them's got two dumb ass

kids with them.

And the whole family is wearing t -shirts. And every one of them has got

same t -shirt. I'm with stupid.

Apparently in this country the stupids are an extended family.

And besides wearing them t -shirts, everyone in the family has got on a

backpack. They've got a backpack strapped to their back so they can carry

lots of stupid shit.

And the reason they've got to carry their stupid shit strapped to their

because their hands must remain free at all times to hold food.

And to get that food up to the mouth where it gets shoveled in.

with all the rest of the disgusting shit they ate that day.

And another reason for the backpacks is these people are going to buy even more

stupid shit.

They ain't got enough stupid shit at home. They just had a stupid shit sale.

They ain't got to buy more.

They're going to go out in the parking lot and stuff this stuff into the big,

fat, ugly, oversized SUV that's got plenty of room in it, plenty of room in

for stupid shit and lots of room left over for these big, fat, ugly

motherfuckers to get them home.

Stopping, of course, for jelly roll and fried dough.

These people, these people are efficient, professional, compulsive

It's their civic duty, consumption.

It's the new national pastime. Fuck baseball.

It's consumption.

The only true, lasting American value that's left, buying things.

Buying things. People spending money they don't have on things they don't

Money they don't have on things they don't need. So they can max out their

credit cards and spend the rest of their lives paying 18 % interest on something

that costs $12 .50.

And they didn't like it when they got it home anyway.

Not too bright, folks. Not too fucking bright.

But if you talk to one of them about this, if you isolate one of them, you

them down rationally and you talk to them about the low IQs and the dumb

behavior and the bad decisions, right away they start talking about education.

That's the big answer to everything.

Education. They say, we need more money for education.

We need more books, more teachers, more classrooms, more schools. We need more

testing for the kids.

You say to them, well, you know, we've tried all of that and the kids still

can't pass the test.

They say, oh, don't you worry about that. We're going to lower the passing

grades.

And that's what they do in a lot of these schools now. They lower the

grades so more kids can pass. More kids pass, the school looks good, everybody's

happy, the IQ of the country slips another two or three points, and pretty

all you'll need to get into college is a fucking pencil.

Got a pencil? Get the fuck in there. It's physics.

Then everyone wonders why 17 other countries graduate more scientists than

do. Education.

Politicians know that word. They use it on you.

Politicians have traditionally hidden behind three things. The flag, the

and children.

No child left behind.

No child left behind.

Oh, really? Well, it wasn't long ago you were talking about giving kids a head

start. Head start? Left behind?

Someone's losing fucking ground here.

But there's a reason. There's a reason. There's a reason for this. There's a

reason education sucks.

And it's the same reason that it will never, ever, ever be fixed. It's never

going to get any better.

Don't look for it. Be happy with what you got.

Because the owners of this country don't want that.

I'm talking about the real owners now.

The real owners, the big wealthy business interests that control things

all the important decisions.

Forget the politicians.

The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of

choice. You don't.

You have no choice.

You have owners.

They own you.

They own everything.

They own all the important land.

They own and control the corporations. They've long since bought and paid for

the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls. They've got the

judges in their back pockets. And they own all the big media companies, so they

control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. They got

by the balls.

They spend billions of dollars every year lobbying, lobbying to get what they

want. Well, we know what they want. They want more for themselves and less for

everybody else. But I'll tell you what they don't want.

They don't want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking. They

don't want well -informed, well -educated people capable of critical

They're not interested in that. That doesn't help them.

That's against their interest.

That's right.

They don't want people who are smart enough to sit around a kitchen table and

figure out how badly they're getting fucked by a system that threw them

overboard 30 fucking years ago. They don't want that. You know what they

They want... Obedient workers.

Obedient workers.

People who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork and

just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shittier jobs with

the lower pay, the longer hours, the reduced benefits, the end of overtime,

the vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it. And now

they're coming for your Social Security money.

They want your fucking retirement money. They want it back.

So they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street. And you know

something? They'll get it. They'll get it all from you, sooner or later.

they own this fucking place. It's a big club.

And you ain't in it.

You and I are not in the big club.

By the way, it's the same big club they use to beat you over the head with all

day long when they tell you what to believe.

All day long, beating you over the head in their media, telling you what to

believe, what to think, and what to buy.

The table is tilted, folks. The game is rigged. And nobody seems to notice.

Nobody seems to care.

Good, honest, hardworking people. White collar, blue collar. It doesn't matter

what color shirt you have on. Good, honest, hardworking people. Continue.

These are people of modest means.

Continue to elect these rich cocksuckers who don't give a fuck about them. They

don't give a fuck about you. They don't give a fuck about you. They don't care

about you at all. At all. At all.

You know?

And nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care. That's what the owners count

on. The fact that Americans will probably remain willfully ignorant of

red, white, and blue dick that's being jammed up their assholes every day.

Because the owners of this country know the truth.

It's called the American dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.

But say what you want about America, folks.

Yeah.

You can say what you want about Americans. You can call them smart,

ignorant, innocent, naive, gullible, easily led, whatever you want.

You're going to have to deal with them. You're going to have to deal with them

because you're in the television business now. You've got the all

channel on cable TV.

You need these people as viewers. You need people looking in. You've got to

worry about your ratings. You're going to have to be thinking about sweeps

months. Most folks know what sweeps months are. Now, those are the more

important ratings months of the year when they put on all their biggest

attractions and their hottest stars, try and pump the ratings up a little bit,

get the local stations to adjust their advertising rates. You're going to have

to compete with the mentality of network television.

And I think on an all -suicide channel during sweeps months, you're going to

have to go with mass suicides.

Big public events where hundreds of people kill themselves all at the same

right on live TV.

And I've been wrestling with a way to do this. I've been trying to figure this

out. I swear to God, this is the truth. I've been trying to figure this part of

it out for six months now. And I only recently have it, so I'm going to tell

about it.

Now, we're going to have to get lots and lots of people to kill themselves on

demand. How are we going to do this? That's the question.

How are we going to get large numbers of people to commit suicide at a time and

place of our choosing?

And I mean large numbers, because don't forget, besides sweeps, we're going to

have to be thinking about 24 -hour -a -day programming.

So to make this work, we need organization.

You need a system. You can't just sit around the studio all day long and wait

for people to drop by and commit suicide.

What we have to do is build up a large pool of hopeless people.

Suicide volunteers.

People with no hope. People whom society has given up on, fate has given up on,

or who have given up on themselves.

Rock bottom, dead end, totally fucked up people with no hope and no reason to

live. And we got our share of them, folks. Think of it as a pyramid.

That'll give you a visual fix on it. Think of it as a pyramid.

The pyramid of the hopeless.

We're going to start building this pyramid at the very base, naturally.

And the bottom layer is going to be...

Homeless people. God knows we've got plenty of them. Nobody gives a fuck

them. Nobody's got a plan. Nobody's got any money. Nobody's got a program.

Nobody gives a fuck about homeless people. We don't know how many we have

We know 500 ,000 of them are veterans because we're so good to the veterans in

this country. And we know about a million and 400 ,000 of them are

So we've got a million and a half children. And then God knows how many

we've got.

Totally fucking hopeless.

In the pyramid they go.

Now, the next group we're going to put in here is these are the people in

with these long sentences they've been given.

Many of them deserved.

I'll grant you that. I'm sure half the people in prison are in there for things

they really did.

That's not a bad average, one out of two.

But nobody gives a shit about these people. Nobody's going to hire them if

do get out. They're never going to get out. Rehabilitation doesn't work. And

judge is giving these fucking draconian sentences, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 100 -year

sentences, life term, double life.

One guy about a month ago was given three consecutive life terms plus two

penalties.

How the fuck do you serve that?

Even David Copperfield can't do that shit.

In order to do that, you'd have to be a Hindu.

And then you got the people on Death Road. They ain't going anywhere.

In the fucking pyramid they go.

Now, the next layer, this group is self -selected. Self -selected and a bit

controversial to some ears, I guess.

These are these people who claim to be depressed, okay?

Apparently, in this land of plenty, this richest nation in the history of the

world, we're so proud of saying that. Some supermarkets have 100 ,000 items in

them. We have 19 million Americans claiming to be depressed.

And some of them take medicine for it. Sometimes the medicine makes one of them

commit suicide and that depresses the shit out of the rest of them.

Then you have these people who only think they're depressed. They think

depressed because they saw the commercial on TV and the doctor looked

good guy. The music sounded kind of peppy and what the fuck, some of these

would probably just pick me right up.

Totally fucking hopeless mindset in the fucking pyramid.

Up at the very top, we are going to put the people who are truly sick.

The terminally ill.

Unfortunately, no hope for a lot of them. Hundreds of thousands of them.

no cure for what they have. Some of them, there's no cure because nobody's

looking for one. They don't have people sick with it, so there ain't no money in

the fucking cure.

Then there's people who've got, there's a cure, but they don't have the money

for it. There's another one that's a cure, but they're too far gone. There's

other ones that's a cure, but there's no social means to get to it. So these

people ain't going anywhere.

They should be allowed to commit suicide. Boom!

In the fucking pyramid they go.

Now, think of what you got here, folks.

Think of yourself as the executive vice president of... at the All Suicide

Channel. Think of what you have to work with in the pyramid of the hopeless.

You have homeless, imprisoned, condemned,

depressed, and terminally ill people. And I'm going to bet you anything, in

depraved culture of ours, bet you anything, with the reality show

have on the All Suicide Channel, you could get 500 of these hopeless people

hold hands and jump into the Grand Canyon.

I'll fucking bet you, I'll fucking bet you you could get that done in this

country right this now. I'll bet you. For money, for money, for money. You

give them something, you know.

Oh shit, they're Americans, they're for sale. Give them a little something.

Americans would do anything, but you gotta give them a toaster, don't you?

Give them a little prize of some kind. Everybody wants a gizmo. Give them a

gizmo. Give them a cell phone. Give them a laptop.

Give them a cell phone that takes a picture of a laptop.

Give them a laptop that takes a picture of a cell phone.

Give them one of them three -wheel vehicles. Give them an all -terrain

Give them one of them riding lawnmowers. Give them a snowblower. Give them an

outdoor barbecue or a jet ski. Give them one of those things they buy for

themselves when they're trying to take their minds off how badly they're

fucked by the system.

I know what you do. Just before these people jump, you give them a hat with a

camera in it.

And you tell them it's jump cam.

Tell them you'll send the video home to the family.

T -shirt. Who don't want a T -shirt? Everybody does. Give them a nice T

I committed suicide and all I got was a stupid fucking T -shirt.

All right. Now, if you want to really raise the

profile of this promotion, get some of those evangelical Christians to

for it. And you call it Jump for Jesus.

Jump for Jesus.

They would bite. They would go for it. Hey, you got to be fair. Got to be fair

about these Christians. They come in for a lot of abuse these days. So you do

have to be fair. All a Christian really wants out of life is to die and go see

Jesus.

Give him a helping hand.

Do the Christian thing.

Tell him it's a shortcut to heaven.

Mention the word martyr. Works on the Muslims. Works on the Catholics. Might

work with these folks. You never know.

Hey, hey, I know.

Give a little encouragement.

Go on, you fanatical fuck. He's down there.

He's down there.

He's down there. He's at the bottom of the canyon.

Look for the man with the glowing head.

Oh, you could have a lot of fun with a channel like that.

But you know something, folks? Maybe you don't want to be on cable. Maybe you

don't want to be on cable. It is a limited audience.

You might want to widen out and get more people looking, and you're going to

have to go to the broadcast networks, one of the big broadcast networks.

And I don't know about you, but when I think about suicide and broadcast

television, I'm thinking Fox, huh?

I'm telling you, Fox.

If the people at Fox ain't sitting around having meetings on an idea like

they ain't doing their goddamn jobs over there.

So you put this thing on Fox, get Budweiser to sponsor it. Budweiser and a

bunch of car companies so people can be thinking about drinking and driving at

the same time.

Isn't that fun?

Isn't it fun to watch the sporting events on American television? Drink

drive that, fuck you. They don't care.

They don't give a shit about you. And then every now and then they qualify the

whole message.

Drink responsibly.

So you put this thing on Fox, and if you do, If you do, or on any broadcast

network, you're going to have to bring in that younger audience. Everybody

that. That's what the advertisers are looking for is these 18 to 24 -year

You're going to have to get young people interested in this. You know how you

get young people interested in suicide?

You don't call it suicide.

You call it extreme living.

They would go for it. Listen, young people are attracted to suicide in the

place. Did you know suicide is the third leading cause of death between 15 and

24? It's the third, ninth in the general population.

That'll give you an idea how popular this after -school activity has become

among our teenage folks, especially these young boys, these adolescent

And a lot of them, you know, a lot of them, they kill themselves when they're

jerking off.

They don't mean to.

It just happens.

Do you know about that?

Some of you know. I can tell.

A lot of people don't know about it. A lot of people never heard of that.

It's just one of those things Americans can't handle. We can't handle that. We

don't talk about that.

It's not on Larry King Live. It ain't on Barbara Walters. You ain't going to see

it in People Magazine, but it's out there, folks.

It's out there, and it's extremely common.

You just ask any teenage boy you know who trusts you.

Ask him what he knows or what he's heard about cutting off your air supply just

at the moment you're about to have a sexual release.

He'll tell you an interesting story or two. The kids call it scarfing because

some of them use scarves to do it. Well, screw the kid. Just get on the

Internet. Do it yourself.

Google in the words autoerotic asphyxia.

Autoerotic asphyxiation. It's the practice of cutting off the oxygen to

brain at the last moment during masturbation in order to heighten the

And when I say common, a thousand kids a year die this way, okay?

A thousand of them die. So think how many of them are trying to pull this

if you pardon the little pun that I throw in there.

It's just to lighten the mood.

But here's the way it works.

Apparently, I never tried it. It sounded risky to me.

Well, jerking off is all I need. You know what I mean, folks?

I ain't trying to double my money. Fuck that shit.

I just jerk off, wipe off my chest, get up and go to work.

Nothing

fancy.

Nothing fancy at our house. We're simple folk.

But here's the way it's supposed to work, and this is why it's such a big

attraction in the first place.

Apparently, it is true, medically, physiologically speaking, that if you

off your air supply, the oxygen to your brain, just at the moment you're about

to have an orgasm, the orgasm is about, I don't know, let's say 500 times

better, something like that. It's incredibly intense.

So what you got to do is stand up on a chair or a bucket or some kind of thing.

You put a rope around your neck.

And you start jerking off.

And while you're pulling your pud, while you're pulling your pud, you have to

arrange to almost strangle yourself just before you have an orgasm.

And by the way, while all this activity is going on, you've got to maintain a

hard -on.

Which ain't easy because you might just be getting ready to buy the farm.

So you better be fantasizing about someone you really like or something you

really like. I don't know what it might be. Maybe getting fucked in the ass by a

game warden. Who knows? Hey, I'm not here to judge. We're all different to

his own.

So let's recap.

Stand on a chair, rope around your neck, Peter in your hand.

Now you have to time it just right.

So that just before you come, you almost die.

And sometimes you miscalculate.

You don't know if you're coming or going.

There's no way to know.

No way to know.

And the parents of these kids are too embarrassed to tell the police,

so they put the kid's dick away and say he had poor grades.

His girlfriend left him.

Oh, well, no wonder, lady. Look at his fucking hobbies.

Then they blame it on heavy metal, you know. I don't know if you remember that,

but from that old incident there, some years back, Judas Priest, one of the

-banging bands, somebody played a song after that, and they killed themselves,

and so they blame suicide on heavy metal. If it's murder, they tend to

these days. But it's never the parents.

Do you ever notice this? Parents apparently play no part.

in the development and outcomes of these kids.

Parents, you know, they can raise a kid apparently 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 years. If

he turns out fucked up, boy, they had nothing to do with that.

Must be those kids that the parking lot hangs around with.

Parents got to be among the most full of shit people in the world.

Well, they always have been, top to bottom, front to back. Listen, in

it comes with the job.

If you want to be a parent, you got to be full of shit at least half the time.

Look at it this way. They have it both ways. If the kid turns out to be a

they have nothing to do with that.

But boy, if he's a winner, got a scholarship or something like that, man,

they're the first ones out there raising their hands trying to take a little

credit. It's a nice state of mind if you can talk yourself into believing it.

But these are the kind of things I think about when I'm sitting home alone

during an electrical storm, waiting for the parole officer to give me a call.

And these ideas, these ideas come floating into my head, just floating

unbidden. I'm not asking for these things.

I'm a vessel.

I'm a mere vessel.

In comes these thoughts.

And some of them are a little offbeat.

I'm going to grant you that.

I was thinking about these younger women who got buried today.

Did you ever think about them?

Probably not.

But I was thinking about these younger women who died three or four days ago,

got buried today.

And some of them had a bad heart, you know.

Some of them had a bad kidney.

But a lot of them had perfectly good pussies.

Good pussies, nice tits, reasonably tight assholes, going to

waste in the ground.

It just seems a shame to me that some fine young pussy

should be rotting away six feet under.

Because you'd think, you would think, in this era,

That if you can donate a heart to

someone who needs one, there ought

to be a way to recycle some of these pussies and get them to people who need

them. Some old guy living up in the mountains. Wow.

Holy shit. Look at this fucking thing. This is great. Thank you very much.

you, sir. I appreciate this. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. God bless you.

You're doing God's work. I hope you know that, don't you?

Hey, this is better than Publisher's Clarin House.

Listen here, buddy.

You ain't got a red -headed one of these by any chance.

No, I didn't think so. I never run into one of them myself.

Thank you very much.

Now, listen here. This is the real thing, ain't it? This ain't one of them

-bought pussies from the adult bookstore.

Huh? What's that?

Oh, okay. Hold on just a second.

Oh, Jesus Christ on the cracker, that's the real fucking thing.

I'd recognize that sumbitch anywhere.

That's straightened out by nose hairs.

I better get this sucker home and get it in the refrigerator as quick as I can.

The Save a Pussy Foundation.

Give the gift that keeps on giving.

Fuck the whales.

Save the pussies.

But we want to save all of them. Not all of them.

Some of them's wore out.

Oh, you wouldn't want one of them big old rubbery things. That ain't no good.

What you want is, you want you something nice and tight, but flexible.

Maybe you'd have an age limit.

Or a mileage check.

You know, you figure out the average length of the average dick, the average

number of thrusts per event, the average number of events per lifetime.

You got that lady's mileage.

And you women, I don't want you to think we're going to leave you out of the

fun. We're going to get you a nice set of cock and balls, okay?

We'll get you something nice just after rigor mortis has set in.

Tell the truth, ladies. Wouldn't you like a nice set of cock and balls

all the bullshit that comes with them?

Huh? Fucking A.

We'll get you something nice. You keep it on the nightstand. It's real easy to

find in the dark.

And if your mother comes over, put a hat on it.

Well, somebody's got to think of these things. Apparently, I've been appointed.

I was dancing with a woman. She told me she had a yeast infection.

I said, well, bake me a fucking loaf of bread.

A couple of corn muffins, a jelly donut. I don't give a shit.

I'm always in the market for quality baked goods.

You couldn't squeeze a birthday cake out of that thing by any chance, could you,

huh?

No, no, I didn't think so. No pressure, honey. No pressure at all.

Why don't you just turn around and give me a nice pineapple upside down cake?

And a dozen oatmeal cookies.

Skip the raisins.

Ixnay on the asins ray.

Well, I think it is certainly apparent by now that one of the things I enjoy in

life is excess.

I like things that are excessive.

I like excessive behavior, excessive language, excessive violence.

It's fun.

It's interesting.

It's exciting.

I like it when nature is excessive.

That's why I like natural disasters.

All these natural disasters that have been going on, I fucking love them.

I can't get enough of them.

When nature is going crazy, throwing things around, scaring people and

destroying property, I'm a happy fucking guy.

I'm a happy fucking guy.

I look at it this way. For centuries now, man has done everything he can To

destroy, defile, and interfere with nature. Clear -cutting forests, strip

-mining mountains, poisoning the atmosphere, overfishing the oceans,

the rivers and lakes, destroying wetlands and aquifers. So when nature

back and smacks man in the head and kicks him in the nuts, I enjoy that.

I have absolutely no sympathy for human beings whatsoever.

None.

And no matter what kind of problem humans are facing, whether it's natural

man -made, I always hope it gets worse.

Don't you, don't you, don't you have a part of you, a part of you that secretly

hopes everything gets worse?

When you see a big fire on TV, don't you hope it spreads?

Don't you hope it gets completely out of control and burns down six counties?

You don't root for the firemen, do you?

I mean, I don't want them to get hurt or nothing, but I don't want them putting

out my fire.

That's my fire.

That's nature showing off and having fun.

I like fires.

You know something else I like? Those spring floods in the Midwest.

Aren't they great? Like clockwork. Spring floods in the Midwest. But I'm

starting to notice, I'm starting to catch on, that every year it's the same

story. Another flood in the same place with the same people on the same river.

Same fucking people.

And these people do not move. They will not fucking move.

They repaint, put down new carpeting and wallpaper, and they move right back

into the same fucking house on the flood plain next to the river. And then they

wonder why grandma's floating downstream with the parakeet on her head.

Fourth time.

Again, fourth fucking time.

There's no learning curve with these people.

It's very hard to feel sorry for them.

Every year, same people, same rowboats, out there paddling around, rescuing a

chicken.

What the fuck kind of a life is that?

Well, our kids love it here.

Oh, really?

What do they got, gills?

And while they're showing all that shit on the screen, the announcer is saying

to me, It's been raining steadily for three months now. The ground can't hold

any more water. The river is cresting higher than it has in two centuries. The

levees have washed away.

And I just hope it keeps raining and raining and raining and raining and

and raining and raining and raining and raining and raining and raining and it

rains steadily for five years.

And then after that, for ten years, it's cloudy.

With occasional showers.

And the river never returns to its natural banks.

It becomes a completely new river. And the borders of three states have to be

changed. And all the maps and atlases have to be redrawn and reprinted.

And no one's couch ever completely dries out.

For years and years, every time they sit down, there's always a little squish.

Dan, Linda, come on in, you guys. Have a seat. Squish, squish.

I like that.

I'm an interesting guy.

I always hope that no matter how small the original problem is, it's going to

grow into bigger and bigger proportions that get completely out of control. And

I'll give you a concrete example.

Let's say a water main breaks in downtown Los Angeles and it floods an

electrical substation, knocking out all the traffic lights and tying up the

entire city and emergency vehicles can't get through. And at the same time, one

of those month -long global warming heat waves comes along, but there's no air

conditioning, there's no water for sanitation, so cholera, smallpox, and

dysentery break out and thousands of people start dying in the streets. But

before they die, Paris... Parasites eat their brains, and they go completely

fucking crazy, and they storm the hospital. But the hospital can't handle

the casualties, so these people rape all the nurses and set the hospital on

fire.

And the flames drive them even crazier, so they start stabbing social workers

and garbage men.

And a big wind comes along, and the entire city goes up in flames, and the

people who are still healthy, they get mad at the sick people, and they start

crucifying them, nailing them to crosses, trying on their underwear, shit

that.

Then everybody smokes crack in PCP and they march on City Hall where they burn

the mayor at the stake, strangle his wife, and take turns sodomizing the

of Larry Flint.

And at this point, at this point it looks like pretty soon things are going

start to get out of control.

So everybody panics and tries to leave the city at the same time and they

trample each other to death in the streets by the thousands and wild dogs

their corpses and the wild dogs chase the rest of the people down the highway

and one by one the dogs pick off the old fucks and the slow people because

they're in the fast lane where they don't belong. Get the fuck out of the

lane if you're an old fuck, if you're a slow fuck. Get over on the right. Get

over on the right.

And then...

And the lucky ones, the lucky people who manage to make it all the way outside

of town, they discover when they get there that big sparks from the city have

lit the suburbs on fire, and the suburbs burn uncontrollably, and thousands of

identical homes have identical fires with identical smoke, killing all the

identical soccer moms and their identical kids named Jason and Jennifer.

And now, now the fire spreads to the farmlands, and the farmlands burn

at 425 degrees, creating millions of baked potatoes.

As the farmlands burn, thousands of barns and farmhouses begin to explode

all the hidden methamphetamine labs.

And the meth chemicals run downhill into the rivers and streams where wild

animals drink the water and get completely geeked on speed.

So bears and wolves amped up on cranks start roaming the countryside looking

people to eat, even though they're not really hungry.

And the fire spreads to the forest, and the forest burns furiously, and hundreds

of elves and trolls and fairies come running out of the woods screaming,

is dead! Bambi is dead!

And he is, he is. Finally, that fucking little cunt Bambi is dead.

Dead.

Now hundreds of regional fires come together into one huge interstate

and all 12 of the western United States are burning out of control, except Utah,

where the Mormons don't allow fires.

And the fire spreads across the Great Plains, toasting the wheat, cooking the

cattle, and producing hamburgers, actually.

Then it leaps the Mississippi and races through the South, blowing up stills,

interrupting lynchings, and killing millions of inbred people. And then it

northeast and it heads for Washington, D .C., where George Bush can't decide if

it's an emergency or not. He can't decide this. He doesn't know. It's hard.

Oh, it's hard work.

You know?

No.

He can't decide because Dick Cheney is in prison.

Instead,

he takes a nap.

He takes a nap. He puts his empty fucking brainless head down on the

pillow his mother gave him at Christmas time, and he takes a fucking nap. So the

fire moves to Philadelphia, but it's a weekend, and Philadelphia's closed on

weekends. So the fire moves to New York City, and the people of New York tell

the fire to go fuck itself.

Go fuck yourself.

And it does.

Yeah.

And it does, so instead it burns down Long Island and Connecticut, killing all

the rich white assholes and completely destroying their evil, faggoty golf

courses.

And while all this is going on, Canada burns to the ground, but nobody notices.

And now the entire North American continent is on fire, producing a huge

updraft and creating an incendiary cyclonic macro system that forms a

hemispheric megastorm, breaking down the molecular structure of the atmosphere

and actually changing the laws of nature. Fire and water combine.

Burning clouds of flaming rain fall upward. Gamma rays and solar winds

the ionosphere, creating huge clouds of ionized plasma.

Bolts of lightning 20 million miles long begin shooting out of the North Pole,

and the sky fills up with green shit.

And then suddenly, the entire fabric of space -time splits in two.

A huge crack in the universe opens, and all the dead people from the past begin

falling through.

Babe Ruth, Groucho Marx, Davy Crockett, Tiny Tim, Porky Pig, Hitler, Janis

Joplin, Alan Ludden, my Uncle Dave, your Uncle Dave, everybody's Uncle Dave, an

endless stream of dead Uncle Daves falling through the crack.

And all the dead Uncle Daves gather around a heavenly kitchen table.

They light up cigarettes and they begin to talk.

They talk about how they never got a break. How their parents didn't love

and their children were ungrateful.

They talk about how the government screwed them out of money and they just

missed out on a big job.

They say the Jews own everything and the blacks get special treatment.

And all the hatred and bitterness drips out of these people and forms a big pool

of liquid hate. And the pool of liquid hate begins to spin.

Round and round it spins, faster and faster. And the faster it spins, the

it gets. Faster and faster, bigger and bigger. Until the whirling pool of hate

is bigger than the entire universe. And then suddenly it explodes. into

trillions of tiny stars.

And every star has a trillion planets.

And every planet has a trillion Uncle Daves.

And all the Uncle Daves have good jobs, perfect eyesight, and shoes that fit.

They have great sex lives and free health care.

They understand the Internet.

Their kids think they're cool. And they all love their neighbors.

And every week, without fail, Uncle Dave wins the lottery.

Forever and ever, till the end of time, every single Uncle Dave has a winning

ticket. And Uncle Dave is finally happy.

Now do you see why I like it when nature gets even with humans?

Thanks for coming in here.

Thank you. See you later.