(Applause)
Thank you,
thank you very much.
Thank you.
I appreciate it.
Thanks very much.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
I appreciate that.
Well, a lot of things have happened
since the last time I saw you.
Just want to talk a little bit about
that 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 in this country
every 20 years
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 get healthcare to our old people.
Can't educate our young 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.
Poof!
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't you remember any white people we've ever bombed?
The Germans,
the Germans are the only ones,
and the only reason for that
is cause they were trying to cut in on our action.
They wanted to dominate the world.
Bullshit.
That's our fucking job.
(Applause)
Now, we only bomb brown people,
not because they're trying to cut in on our action,
just because they're brown.
Now, you might be noticing
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.
See, my mind doesn't work that way.
I got this real moron thing I do.
It's called thinking.
And I'm not a really 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, not me.
I have certain rules I live by.
My first rule,
I don't believe anything the government tells me,
nothing.
Zero.
And,
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 function as kind of
an unofficial public relations agency
for the United States government.
So 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 to be symbols,
and I leave symbols
to the symbol minded.
To me, war is nothing but a whole lot of prick waving.
Okay?
War is just a lot of men
standing around in a field
waving their pricks at one another.
Simple thing.
That's all it is.
Men are insecure about the size of their dicks
and so they have to go to war over it.
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 to feel better.
And because war is the ultimate competition,
basically men are killing one another
in order to improve their self esteem.
You don't have to be a history major
or a political scientist to see
the Bigger Dick Foreign Policy theory.
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.
(Applause)
So,
as far as I'm concerned
that whole thing in the Persian Gulf
nothing more than a big, prick waving dick fight.
In this particular case,
Saddam Hussein had challenged and 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.
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.
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 George Bush had to say in the Persian Gulf,
this will not be another Vietnam.
He actually used these words.
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.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Now, I'd like to talk about
a few things that bring us together.
Okay?
Things that emphasize our similarities
instead of our differences,
which is all you ever hear about in this country
is our differences.
That's all they ever talk about,
politicians and the media.
Always pushing the things that separate us,
things that make us different.
That's the way the ruling class operates in any society.
They 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.
Anything that's different about us,
you know that's what they're pushing at you.
Racial differences, religious, ethnic,
national backgrounds, jobs, income, education,
social status, sexuality.
Anything they can do to keep us fighting with each other
so that they can keep going to the bank.
You know how I describe
the economic and social classes in this country?
The upper class keeps all of the money,
pays none of the taxes.
The middle class
pays all of the taxes,
does all of the work.
The poor are there
just to scare the shit out of the middle class,
keep them showing up at those jobs.
So in the midst of stirring up the shit myself
a little bit from time to time,
which I enjoy,
I do like knowing I can always come back
to those little things that make us all the same,
little moments we share,
universal moments,
things that are so unimportant to us
we hardly ever mention them to each other.
Did you ever look at your watch
and then you don't know what time it is.
So you look again,
and you still don't know the time.
And you look at a third time,
and somebody says what time is it,
and 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 on a little boat, windy day,
rough waters rocking back and forth,
trying to keep your balance in a little boat?
And you get back into the shore
and you get on the dock,
and you could swear there was something inside of you
that was still out there rocking around?
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 looking through a chain link fence?
Did you ever notice
if you're just the right distance from a chain link fence,
sometimes it seems to go 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?
You say you got a little bit of dirt right here?
There always go where, here?
And you just want to slap the bastard, you know?
You say, no, right here, near your eye.
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
before they think I really look like this.
This is not my real face.
Did you ever notice
when you're walking with your arm around your date,
sometimes 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 walking 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 all the other 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,
doesn't it?
You could swear there was one more step.
Bmm.
Holy shit.
My hips are in my chest.
When you drink grapefruit juice in the morning,
do you go...
I do, too.
Why do we drink it?
It's like ice cream throat.
You know when you've been eating ice cream real fast
and you get that frozen spot on the back of your throat
and there's nothing you can do 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 wake up in the late afternoon.
Sorry.
Did you ever go to sleep in the late afternoon
and wake up after dark
and you don't know what goddamn day it is?
And you think maybe it's yesterday.
How about when you're lying with your head on the pillow?
Did you ever notice when you have your head on the pillow,
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.
And wind up having to paint the entire apartment.
Something else we have in common,
flying on the airlines.
Flying on the airlines
and listening to the airlines announcements
and trying to pretend to ourselves that
that's the way the English language ought to be spoken.
Doesn't sound that way 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?
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 principle of recording,
to do it beforehand.
Otherwise, it doesn't really work, does it?
Pre-qualify,
pre-plan,
pre-screen.
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.
I say fuck you,
I'm getting in the plane.
Let Evil 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.
(Applause)
Yes, but not quite.
They might tell you your flight has been delayed
because of a change of equipment.
Broken plane.
They 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 carry on,
I thought they were going to bring a dead deer on board.
I thought what the hell do they need with that.
Don't they have the little TV dinners anymore?
Then I thought carry on, carry on,
there's going to be a party.
People are going to be carrying on, on the plane.
Well, I don't care for that.
I like a serious attitude on the plane,
especially on the flight deck
which is the latest euphemism for cockpit.
Can't imagine why they wouldn't want to use
a lovely word like cockpit, can you?
Especially with all those stewardesses
going in and out of it all the time.
There's a word that's changed,
Stewardess.
First, it was Hostess,
then Stewardess,
now, it's flight attendant.
You know what I call her,
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.
Occasionally, 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 plane 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.
Pardon me, over here, please.
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 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.
(Applause)
I can be of no help to anyone
if I'm lying unconscious in the aisle
with some big cock sucker standing on my neck.
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.
My seat cushion.
Imagine that.
Just what I need,
to float around the North Atlantic for several days
clinging to a pillow full of beer farts.
(Applause)
The flight continues.
A little later on, 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 he's making
are any mark of his intellect,
he's lucky to be working at all.
Tell the captain
Air Marshal Carlin says go fuck yourself.
(Applause)
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?
(Applause)
Doesn't this violate something in 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.
Please 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 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.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Appreciate that.
Thank you very much.
Thanks very much.
Thank you very much.
Speaking of places to eat
and what they're 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 that?
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.
Don't eat.
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 winner.
Real all American disease.
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's the morality in that?
I don't 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 big holes in other people's countries.
I hate to be repetitious but, God, we are a warlike lot,
you know.
We can't stand not to be fucking with somebody.
We couldn't wait for that cold war to be over, could we?
Just 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,
then we're usually declaring war on something here at home.
Did you ever notice that?
We love to do that, don't we?
We love to declare war on things here in America.
Anything we don't like about ourselves,
we have to declare war on it.
And don't do anything about it.
We just declare war on it.
We got a war,
it's the only metaphor we have in our public discourse
for solving a problem.
It's called declaring a war.
We got a war on poverty, war on crime, war on litter,
the war on cancer,
the war on drugs.
But you ever notice
there's no war on homelessness, is there?
Nah, no war on homelessness.
You know why?
There's no money in that problem.
Nobody stands...
(Applause)
It's true.
Nobody stands to get rich off of that problem.
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 guar-an-tee you that.
Now, so
I got an idea for homelessness.
You know what they ought to do?
Give the homeless their own magazine.
Give them 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 makes it and arrives at a certain level
has its own magazine.
You have Working Mother Magazine,
Black Entrepreneur Magazine,
Hispanic Business Magazine.
In fact, any activity,
any activity engaged in
by more than four people in this country
has got a fucking magazine devoted to it.
Skydiving,
mountain climbing,
snow mobiling,
pack backing,
bungee jumping,
duck hunting,
shooting someone in the asshole with a dart gun,
jerking off, they probably have a magazine for that.
I'm sure they have.
I know they have a magazine.
Walking.
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, give the homeless their own magazine.
You know what you call it?
Better Crates and Cartons.
Then when they get finished reading it,
they can use it to line their clothing.
That's a good sound business solution.
That's the kind of answer you get
from a conservative American businessman.
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'll tell you what they ought to do about homelessness.
First thing, change the name of it.
Change the name of the condition.
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.
But where you going to put them?
Where you going to build them?
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 any kind of social help
located anywhere near them.
You try to open up a halfway house,
try to open a rehab center for drugs or alcohol,
try to build 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're always told about.
Prrrr.
Big generous American nation.
Ask an Indian about that.
Ask an Indian how generous this country is,
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 this country has been.
People don't want anything near them,
even if it's something they believe in,
something they think society needs like prisons.
Everybody wants that, right?
Everybody wants more prisons.
That's the new answer to all of our problems,
lock a lot of motherfuckers up.
Everybody wants more prisons.
They 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 would seem to me like it would make it
a pretty crime free area, don't you think?
You think a lot of crack heads, and muggers,
and pimps, and hookers, are going to be hanging around
in front of a fucking prison?
Bullshit.
They ain't coming anywhere near it?
What's wrong with these people?
All the criminals are locked up behind the walls.
And if a couple of them do break out,
what do you think they're going to do?
Hang around,
check real estate trends?
Bullshit, (whistle) 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?
No, they like that.
Give them an army base.
It 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.
(Applause)
Perfect.
Golf courses.
Just what we need.
Plenty of good land in nice neighborhoods,
land that is currently being wasted
on a meaningless, mindless activity
engaged in primarily by white,
well to do male businessmen
who use the game to get together to make deals
to carve this country up
a little finer among themselves.
I am getting tired,
really tired.
(Applause)
I am getting tired of these golfing cock suckers
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 fucking room in this country,
too much fucking room in this country.
(Applause)
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 over 3 million acres.
That's 4,820 square miles.
You could build two Rhode Islands
and a Delaware for the homeless
on the land currently devoted to this
meaningless, mindless, arrogant, elitist, racist,
racist,
there's another thing.
The only blacks you will find in country clubs
are carrying trays.
And a boring game,
for boring people.
Did you ever watch golf on television?
It's like watching flies fuck.
And a mindless game, mindless.
Think of the intellect.
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.
Go the fuck home.
You're a winner.
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 them.
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 in one part of town?
What the hell kind of a superstitious, religious,
medieval 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.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
I appreciate that.
Ah, a little refreshment.
I assume the water is safe to drink in our city still.
Is it?
Hm?
Yeah.
Yeah, I only really asked the question
to set you up a little bit.
I'm sorry.
I don't mean to use you but
I don't really care about the water.
I just love to hear the answer to that question.
You know, I ask it everywhere I go.
How's the water?
Haven't gotten a positive answer yet.
Not one.
Last year I was in 40 states,
over 100 cities.
Not one audience was able to say to me,
yes, enjoy some of our fine local water.
It is pure and it is good.
Course, I realize a lot of people don't speak that way anymore,
but nobody trusts their local water supply,
nobody.
And that amuses me.
I like that.
It amuses me.
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,
the reason I like it is that it means
the system is beginning to collapse
and everything is starting to break down.
I enjoy chaos and disorder,
not just because they help me professionally.
No, it's also my hobby.
You see, I'm an entropy fan.
When I first heard of entropy in high school science,
I was attracted to it immediately.
When they told me that in nature
all systems are breaking down,
I thought what a good thing.
What a good thing.
Perhaps I can make some
small contribution in this area myself.
And, of course, it's not just in nature.
In this country, the 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 makes the news on television more interesting.
Makes it more exciting.
Makes the TV news more fun.
I watch TV 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 looking for some explosions and fires.
I want to see shit blown up and bodies flying around.
I don't care about the budget.
I'm not interesting in the labor 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 want to see an oil refinery explode.
I want to see a paint factory blowing up.
I want to see a tornado hit a church on Sunday.
I want to know there's some guy
running through 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, shit blowing up.
My kind of TV.
Graves being filled, parents weeping.
My kind of television.
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'm not interested in a bunch of redneck jack offs
driving 500 miles in a circle.
500 miles in a circle?
Doesn't impress me.
Children can do that.
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 want to see cars doing 200 mile an hour cartwheels.
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 couple of cars fly off the track
and land in the stands
and kill 50 or 60 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 thoughts.
Most people, you know,
see something like that on television,
they'll 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 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 and he says
6,000 people were killed in 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, whoa, hot shit.
Come on, Dave, let's go look at the bodies.
Let's go look at the bodies.
I love bad news.
Hey, the more bad news there is,
the faster this system collapses.
Fine by me.
Don't bother my ass.
I'm glad the water sucks.
You know what I do about it?
I drink it.
(Applause)
Unless,
unless it really smells.
You know, if it smells like sulfur,
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,
all day long worried about everything.
Worried about the air,
worried about the water,
worried about the soil,
worried about pesticides,
insecticides, 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,
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,
regardless of our behavior I mean.
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.
Let's 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 help one another.
We're going to save the fucking planet?
I am getting tired of that shit.
I'm tired of fucking Earth Day.
I'm tired of these fucking self righteous environmentalists.
I'm tired of these white,
liberal,
bourgeois, liberal white people
who think the only thing wrong with this planet
is there aren't enough bicycle paths
trying to make the world
safe and clean for their Volvos.
And I'm really sick,
really sick of these rock stars and movie stars
going to work off their cocaine guilt
by saving a forest somewhere.
Besides,
besides, there's nothing,
besides, first of all,
the environmentalists don't give a shit about the planet.
They don't care about the planet.
Not in the abstract they don't.
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.
The planet is fine.
The people are fucked.
Compared to the people,
the planet is doing great.
The planet has been here
for four and a half billion years.
All right?
Four and a half billion.
We've been here what, 100,000?
Maybe.
200,000?
Maybe.
And we've only been engaged in heavy industry
for a little over 200 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 going to put in jeopardy
this beautiful little blue green ball
that's just a-floating around the sun?
Planet has been through a lot worse than us for a long time.
Been through earthquakes, volcanoes, plate tectonics,
continental drifts, solar flares, sunspots,
magnetic storms, the magnetic reversal of the poles,
bombardments for hundreds of thousands of years
by comets and asteroids and meteors,
sandstorms, erosion of all kinds,
cosmic radiation,
worldwide fires,
worldwide floods,
recurring ice ages,
and we think some aluminum cans
and some plastic bags
are going to make a difference.
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 a little Styrofoam.
Planet will be here,
and we'll be long gone,
just another failed mutation,
just another closed end biological mistake
an evolutionary cul-de-sac.
Planet will shake us off like a bad case of fleas,
a surface nuisance.
If you want to know how the planet's doing,
ask those people in Pompeii
who are frozen into position from volcanic ash
how the planet's doing.
Want to know if the planet's all right,
ask the people in Mexico City or Armenia
or a hundred other places
buried under thousands of tons of earthquake rubble
if they feel like a real threat to the planet this week.
How about the 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.
Planet is going to be here
a long, long, long time after we're gone,
and it will heal itself.
It will cleanse itself cause that's what it does.
It's a self correcting system.
The air and the water will recover.
The earth will be renewed.
And, say, if it's true that plastic doesn't degrade,
well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic
into a new paradigm,
the earth plus plastic.
The planet 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.
(Applause)
So the plastic is here.
Our job is done.
We can be phased out now,
and I think that's really started already, don't you?
I mean to be fair,
the planet probably sees us as a mild threat,
something to be dealt with.
And I'm sure the planet will defend itself.
In the manner of a large organism like a beehive
or an ant colony can muster a 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, hm, viruses,
viruses might 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 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?
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.
Whoa,
whoa,
whoa.
It doesn't punish.
It doesn't reward.
It doesn't even judge.
It just is
and so are we,
for a little while.
Thanks for being here with me for a little while tonight.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Appreciate it.
Thanks very much.
And take care of yourself.
(Applause)