All language subtitles for George.Carlin.Life.Is.Worth.Losing.HBO.Special.2005

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

I'm a modern man.

A man for the millennium.

Digital and smoke free.

A diversified,|multi-cultural,

post-modern deconstructionist.

Politically, anatomically|and ecologically incorrect.

I've been up-linked|and downloaded.

I've been inputted|and outsourced.

I know 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 multi-tasker,

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-activated|and biodegradable.

I interface from a database,

my database is in cyberspace.

So I'm interactive,

I'm hyperactive|and from time to time,

I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball,

ahead of the curve,

riding the wave,|dodging the bullet,

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 tell 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.

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 a 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.

Super size, long lasting,

high definition, fast-acting,

oven-ready and built to last.

I'm a hands-on, footloose,

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, bonding,|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|in my hard drive

is hardcore, no soft porn.

I bought a microwave|at a mini mall.

I bought a minivan|at a megastore.

I eat fast food|in the slow lane.

I'm toll free, bite size,

ready to wear and|I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped,|factory authorized,

hospital tested,|clinically proven,

scientifically formulated

medical miracle.

I've been prewashed,|precooked, preheated,

prescreened, preapproved,

prepackaged, post-dated,

freeze dried, double|wrapped, vacuum packed

and 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 got glide in 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 hearty.

And lunch time 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 in 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 what|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 just 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 gotta 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.

Nothin'.

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 grownup's word.

It's a kid's word.

Dingleberries.

It always sounded kind|of Christmasy 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 Maryann 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 sound.

It's like shotgun

and ash can and tow truck.

Cornhole.

Everything's been|sanitized now and cleaned up.

First with these|fucking Christians.

You just start with them.

You know.

I'm so, you know.

That's just one,|wait a minute now.

Yeah, you know.

Let's not leave out these

PC campus liberal assholes.

I mean they're|just as 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|prime time crime shows.

I like all of|them pretty much.

You know, I like "Law & Order"

and all the spin-offs of that.

I like "CSl"

and all of those spin-offs.

Yeah, because|they're forensic shows.

You know.

And I'm just waiting for|one night to be sitting there

watching one of them shows

and then 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 fucking 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 2800 a day.

That's one every 30 seconds.

There goes another guy.

And I say guy,

I say guy

because men are|four times more likely

than women to commit suicide.

Even though women|attempt it 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 your own lives|in greater numbers.

But...

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 that 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's going over

and getting a gun out|of a dresser drawer.

Somebody else is opening up

a brand-new package|of razor blades.

Maybe struggling with|the cellophane a little bit,

you know.

"Oh, shit.

It's always something.

Goddamn it, fuckin shit."

I just think that's|an 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 did he do that

and, What was going|through his mind.

You know what I wonder,

Where did 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.

You know.

And you've got|to have a plan, too,

for something like that.

You've got to plan that shit.

People just don't|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.

"Survivor" is on, on Thursday.

Friday I got|my colon cleansing.

The folks are|coming over on Sunday.

Sunday.

By God, that'd|be just the 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 you're going to do it.

"Well, let me see now.

Afraid of heights,|that's no good.

Can't swallow pills.

Don't like the sight of blood.

Fucking oven's electric.

I'd lie down in|front of a train,

except the Amtrak|ain't coming through here

in 30 goddamn years.

Maybe I'll just take a gun

and shoot myself in the mouth.

Suppose I miss?

People will be laughing at me.

Suppose I live?

I'll have a big|fucking hole in my head.

I'll have to wear some|kind of dumb-ass hat.

Well, I guess|I'll 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|that stuff on my neck.

Wal-Mart'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 Wal-Mart's paying for it.

What's next?

The note.

Oh, Jesus.

I got to express myself.

Hell, if I could|express myself,

I wouldn't be thinking of|doing something like this.

Where's a pen?

I can never find a pen.

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

Goddamn kids.

I ought to just|kill them, too.

Make it one of them|family package deals.

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 Marzel.

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 this 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.

Signed, the corpse|in this room.

P.S., fuck you people."

Yeah, good enough.

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 the note|all goddamn year.

Trying to get it just right.

First draft, second|draft, third revision,

whole new ending.

Finally, he'd turn|it into a book proposal

and have a reason to live.

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 species

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've 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 is also|interesting to notice

who it is we assassinate.

Did you ever notice who it is?

Stop to think|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,

Medgar 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 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 at any time|you see two groups of people

who really hate each other,

chances are good

they're wearing|different kind of hats.

Keep an eye on that.

It might be important.

But any time|there's genocide,

there are always mass graves.

Right?

Every time we|kill some dictator

and go marching|through 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 oh."

Well shit, what's|the guy suppose 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 and|one place is convenience.

Efficiency.

Thrown 'em in|the fucking hole.

Look at it this way,

at least the dictator|had the decency

to throw|a little dirt on them.

Give the guy some credit.

The dictator's a busy man.

He's 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.

There's another one|of our interesting,

heart-warming|behaviors we come up with

somewhere along the way.

Torturing each other.

You want to hear|a really cool torture

that the Romans invented?

They also used 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 sack 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

under water, in the dark,

sitting next to|a 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 snake.

Praying.

Yeah, then...

Then it would be|just you and the dog,

man and his best friend

drowning together.

Maybe before you die,

you can 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 mentioning,

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 use 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 people

in one ceremony.

Okay?

80,000 people in 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.

You know 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 guy,

lay him on an alter,

cut his chest open,

pull his heart out,

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 is just south of 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 one|of our amusing activities,

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.

A bunch of people|stranded in the wilderness,

run out of Pop-Tarts,

you got to eat 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 body builder

because he's 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.

Now there's a hobby for you.

Fucking a corpse.

It 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 got to be the most|interesting critters

on the planet.

And then we wonder why a UFO

doesn't just land|and say, hello.

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,

it didn't bother me.

I took it right in stride.

A lot of people|here were horrified.

"Oh, beheadings, beheadings."

What are you|fucking surprised?

It's 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 better be ready|for some action, Jack.

You better be ready|for some action.

People are touchy|about that sort of thing.

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.

What is 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 not gotten|an email on this.

No one will talk to me.

I haven't gotten a postcard,

not a fucking|instant message, nothin'.

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

is 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

in the Plasticine 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.

Now, we like to think|we've evolved and advanced

because we can|build a computer,

fly 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 can all|just break right down,

just break right down.

It wouldn't take much.

It'll probably happen|in less than two years.

It wouldn't take much

to throw us right 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|couldn't 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 the|security systems

in all of our jails

and prisons and nut houses.

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,

car jackers,

home invaders,

thieves,

burglars, kidnappers,

sadists, pedophiles,

sexual predators, pimps,

pushers, pornographers,

speed freaks,|crack heads, sick junkies.

All the ethnic street gangs.

Blacks, Spanish|and Asian gangs,

Japanese Yakuza,

Russian Mafia,

Neo-Nazis,

white supremacists,

Sicilian hit man,

Italian mobsters,

Jamaican and|Colombian drug gangs.

And those are just|the ones we caught.

Lets not forget|their counter-parts

still on the outside right now

waiting to 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 would be.

Counting all the parolees

and all the probationers

and the ones who've|never been caught.

Eight to ten million

bitter, angry, violent,

sexually hyperactive|alpha males

with nothing to do.

No hobbies.

No medication.

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 1400|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 S.O.L. And J.W.F.

Shit out of luck|and 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 is 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 of|these reality shows.

Suicide and television|will be a natural.

I'll bet you I can have

an All-Suicide|Channel on cable TV.

I'll bet you.

Shit, they got all golf.

What the fuck, huh?

Goddamn.

You ever watch golf?

You ever watch golf?

It's like watching flies fuck.

If you'd get a bunch|of brainless assholes

insisting on 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,

putting on funny capes|and caps and hats

and makeup and calling|themselves Captain Suicide.

Guys would be competing|for most unusual method.

People would be|jumping off of silos,

lighting themselves on fire,

putting rat poison on a taco,

drinking Mop & Glo,

sticking moth balls|up their ass.

You'd probably have|some weird fuck show up

who'd figured out|how to kill himself

with dental floss|and a stinger missile.

People are fucking goofy.

I'd bet you could find|you a married couple,

in this country, shit.

I'll bet you,

you could find|a married couple

in one of them|trailer parks or something

who'd be perfectly willing

to sit in a loveseat

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.

Do you ever notice that?

Oh, my goodness, yes.

Oh, my goodness.

Yeah.

Nitwits, assholes,

fuck ups, scumbags,

jerk offs and dipshits.

And they all vote.

They all vote, yeah.

In fact, sometimes|you get the impression

They're the only|ones who vote.

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 is sitting home

watching that shit on TV,

getting ready to 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 the 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, you can say|what you want about America.

And I say I love this place.

I wouldn't have|it any other way,

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've got some|dumb-ass motherfuckers

floating around this country.

Dumb-ass|motherfuckers, you know.

Now, obviously that doesn't|include this audience.

I understand that.

You seem intelligent|and perceptive

but the rest of them,

holy jumping|fucking shit balls.

Dumber than a|second coat of paint.

Now, 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 was 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|got here, folks.

Mile after mile

of mall after mall.

Many, many malls.

Major malls and mini malls.

They put the mini malls

in between 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 bookstores.

America the beautiful.

One big transcontinental|commercial cesspool.

And how do the people|feel about all this?

How do the people feel about

living in a|coast-to-coast shopping mall?

Well, they think|it's just fucking dandy.

They think it is|as 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|semiconscious Americans

day after day

shuffling through the malls

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 in pork fat|and cheese whiz,

mayonnaise-soaked barbecue|mozzarella patty melts.

America will eat anything.

Anything.

Anything.

If you were selling saut�ed|raccoons 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 eagle.

You know what the 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|of 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'll look at one of them

and 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 a mouthful of pie

is her clueless fucking|husband Joe Six Pack.

With his monstrous|swollen beer belly

hanging dangerously|out over his belt 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 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 people 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

has got two dumb-ass|kids with them.

And the whole family|is wearing T-shirts.

And every one of them|has got the 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 got a backpack|strapped to their back

so they can carry around|lots of stupid shit.

And the reason|they got to carry

their stupid shit|strapped to their backs

is 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're gonna 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 it 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 consumers.

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 need.

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 percent interest

on something that cost 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 sit them down rationally,

and you talk to|them about the low IQ's

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 tests".

They say, "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 passing 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 soon 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 we do.

Education.

Politicians know that word.

They use it on you.

Politicians|have traditionally

hidden behind three things,

the flag,|the Bible 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 is losing|fucking ground here.

But there's a reason.

There's a reason.

There's a reason for this.

There's a reason|that 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

and make 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, and city halls.

They got the judges|in their back pocket.

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 you 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 thinking.

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|the 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 want?

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

and 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.

Because 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, and 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,|hard-working people.

White collar, blue collar.

It doesn't matter what|color shirt you have on.

Good, honest, hard-working|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.

Yeah.

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 the big 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 American folks.

Yeah.

You can say what you|want about Americans.

You can call them smart, dumb,

ignorant, innocent, naive,

gullible, easily led.

Whatever you want.

You're gonna have|to deal with them.

You're gonna have|to deal with them

because you're in the|television business now.

You got the All-Suicide|Channel on cable TV.

You need these|people as viewers.

You need people looking in.

You 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

trying to 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 time

right on live TV.

Now, 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 you 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.

Now we got our|share of them, folks.

Think of it as a pyramid.

That will give you|a visual fix on it.

Think of it as a pyramid.

The pyramid of the hopeless.

We are 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 about 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 even.

We know 500,000|of them are veterans,

because we're so good to the|veterans in this country.

And we know about a 1,400,000|of them are children.

There, so we got|a million and a half children.

And then God knows|how many more we got.

Totally fucking hopeless.

In the pyramid they go.

Now, the next group we|are going to put in here,

these are the people in prison

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 they do get out.

They're never|going to get out.

Rehabilitation doesn't work.

And the judges give them

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 death 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.

Then you got the|people on death row.

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 the people who|claim to be depressed, okay?

Apparently in|this land of plenty,

this richest nation|in the history world

we're so proud of saying that.

Some supermarkets

have a hundred|thousand items in them.

We have 18 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 they're depressed

because they saw|the commercial on TV

and the doctor|looked like a good guy,

the music sounded kind|of peppy and what the fuck,

some of these pills

will probably just|pick me right up.

Totally fucking|hopeless minds.

In the fucking pyramid.

Up at the very top

we are gonna put the people

who are truly sick.

The terminally ill.

Unfortunately, no hope|for a lot of them.

Hundreds of thousands of them.

There's no cure|for what they have.

Some of them say there is no cure|because nobody's looking for one.

There ain't enough|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 are the|other ones there's a cure

but they're too far gone.

There's other ones|there's a cure

but there is 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 programming

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 this depraved|culture of ours,

bet you anything,

with the reality show|mentality we have

on the All-Suicide Channel,

you could get 500

of these hopeless people

to hold hands and jump|into the Grand Canyon.

I'll fucking bet you.

I'll fucking bet you|you can get that done

in this country,|write this down.

I'll bet you.

For money,|for money, for money.

You got to give|them something.

You know, you got to...

Oh, shit.

They're Americans,|they're for sale.

Give them a little something.

Americans will do anything

but you got to 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-wheeled vehicles.

Give them an|all-terrain vehicle.

Give them one of them|riding lawnmowers.

Give them a snowblower.

Give them an outdoor|barbecuer or a jet-ski.

Give them one of those|things they buy for themselves

when they are trying|to take their minds off

how badly they're getting|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-shirt.

"I committed suicide

and all I got was this|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 volunteer 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 them a helping hand.

Do the Christian thing.

Tell them it's|a shortcut to heaven.

Mention the word martyr.

It works on the Muslims,|it works on the Catholics.

It might work for these|folks, you never know.

Hey, hey, I know.

Give them 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 in

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|network 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 this,

they ain't doing their|goddamn jobs over there.

So you put this thing on FOX,

get Budweiser to sponsor it.

Budweiser and a whole|bunch of car companies

so people can be thinking|about drinking and driving

at the same time.

Ain't that fun?

Isn't it fun to watch|the sporting events

on American television?

"Drink this,|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 gonna have to bring|in that younger audience.

Everybody knows that.

That's what the|advertisers are looking for

is these 18 to 24 year olds.

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 first place.

Did you know suicide

is the third|leading cause of death

between 15 and 24?

It's third.

Ninth in the|general population.

That will give you|an idea of how popular

this after school|activity has become

among our teenage folks.

Especially these young boys,

these adolescent males.

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.

You know about that?

Yeah, some you|know, I can tell.

Yeah.

A lot people|don't know about it.

A lot of people never|heard of that, you know.

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 is 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 scarfs to do it.

Well, screw the kid.

Just get on the Internet.

Do it yourself.

Google in the words|autoerotic asphyxia.

Autoerotic asphyxia.

It's the practice of cutting|off the oxygen to the brain

at the last moment|during masturbation

in order to|heighten the orgasm.

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 off.

If you pardon the little|pun that I throw in there

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.

No, I just jerk off,

wipe off my chest,

get up and go|to work, you know.

That's it,|that's it, that's it.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing fancy at our house.

We're simple folk.

But here is 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 can|cut 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, huh.

Hey, I'm not here to judge.

We're all different.

To each 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 cum

you almost die.

And sometimes|you miscalculate.

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

You don't know.

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 some years back,

Judas Priest,

one of the|head banging bands,

somebody played a song

and after that|they killed themselves

so they blamed|suicide on heavy metal.

If it's murder,

they tend blame|rap these days.

But it's never the parents.

Did 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|at the parking lot

he 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 fairness,

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 loser,

they had nothing|to do with that.

But boy if he is a winner,

got a scholarship|or something like that,

man, they are 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|in to 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|right in 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 gonna grant you that.

I was thinking about|these younger woman

who got buried today.

Did you ever think about them?

Probably not.

But I was thinking about|these younger woman

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...

Okay, okay.

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.

Thank 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 Clearinghouse".

Listen here, buddy,

you ain't got a redheaded one|of these by any chance do you?

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 store bought pussies

from the adult bookstore.

Huh, what's that?

Oh, okay.

Hold on just a second.

Oh, Jesus Christ on a cracker.

That's the real fucking thing.

I'd recognize that|son of a bitch anywhere.

That straightened|out my 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 pussy.

But you wouldn't want|to save all of them.

Not all of them.

Some of them is 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've got|that lady's mileage.

And you woman,|I don't want you to think

I'm 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

without 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?

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.

Icksnay on the aisinsray."

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.

Oh, when nature's|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,

over fishing the oceans,

polluting the|rivers and lakes,

destroying|wetlands and aquifers.

So when nature strikes 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 or 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|a fireman, do you?

I mean I don't want him|to get hurt or nothin' but

I don't want him|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 a 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 levies have washed away"

and I just hope|it keeps raining,

and raining,

and raining,

and raining,

and raining,

and raining,

and raining,

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, small pox|and dysentery break out

and thousands of people|start dying in the streets.

But before they die,

parasites eat their brains.

And they go completely|fucking crazy,

and they storm the hospital.

But the hospital can't|handle all 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 like that.

Then everybody|smokes crack and PCP

and they march on city hall

where they burn|the mayor at the stake,

strangle his wife

and take turns sodomizing|the statue of Larry Flynt.

And at this point,

at this point it|looks like pretty soon

things are going to 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|eat 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 fast 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, the lucky ones,

the lucky people

who manage to make it all|the way outside of town

they discover when|they get there,

the 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|intensely of 425 degrees

creating millions|of baked potatoes.

And as the farmlands burn,

as the farmlands burn,

thousands of barns and|farmhouses begin to explode

from all 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 crank

start roaming the countryside

looking for people to eat

even though they're|not really hungry.

Then the fire|spreads to the forest.

And the forest burn furiously.

And hundreds of elves|and trolls and fairies

come running out of|the woods screaming,

"Bambi 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 inferno.

And all 12 of the|western United States

are burning out of control

except Utah where the|Mormons don't allow fires.

And the fires spreads|across the Great Plains

toasting the wheat,

cooking the cattle

and producing|hamburgers actually.

Then it leaps to Mississippi

and races through the South

blowing up stills|and interrupting lynching's

and killing millions|of inbred people.

And then it turns 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.

Wow.

Oh it's hard work.

You know.

He can't decide

because Dick Cheney|is in prison.

So instead he takes a nap.

He takes a nap.

He puts his empty,|fucking brainless head down

on the little 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 the 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.

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 thermal updraft

and creating an incendiary

cyclonic macro system

that forms a|hemispheric mega storm

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|ignite 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 Dave's

falling through the crack.

And all the dead Uncle Dave's

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 them.

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 bigger 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 Dave's.

And all the|Uncle Dave's 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|until 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 tonight.

Thank you.

See you later.

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