All language subtitles for American.Horror.Story.S07E07.720p.HDTV.2CH.x265.HEVC-PSA

Oh, yeah. That's it.

Right there.

It's ten.

That's all I got.

Fuck you, you little
dick piece of dogshit.

Hey, how many bullets can
you get for five dollars?

What for?

Andy Warhol.

I thought we had what it takes
to make a marriage work.

We must make our marriage work, dear.

I don't get it.

Do I not know my husband
is a homosexual?

Uh...

No.

You divorce your husband, Taylor,

'cause he wants a surfer, too,

and, uh, he's gonna seduce Tom...

...get Tom to urinate

all over him,

and then Taylor's gonna say...

"I'm a real surfer now."

Uh, let's, uh, take a break.

It's been long enough...
I want my script back.

I'm sorry, Valerie, I can't find it.

You lost it?

That was my only copy.

You promised you were gonna
make Up Your Ass into a movie.

- Did you even read it?
- It was so obscene,

I thought you were an undercover
cop trying to entrap me.

You lost it on purpose.

'Cause you can't stand
to have a woman succeed.

Oh, Valerie...

you know women can't be serious artists.

Why not?

Well, uh...

women can be beautiful.

Be a model.

Or an actress.

I could strangle you right now.

I want to wipe that smug expression

off your pale,

patriarchal face!

Okay, that is enough. We've
indulged your tantrums

- No! No! No! Don't touch me!
- long enough, Valerie.

- You need to get out! Okay.
- Don't touch me!

Isn't she great?

I told you already, okay?
Andy's not coming in.

You can come back next week.

Hi, Valerie.

Factory.

Hi, Viva.

Uh, yes, he is actually here.

I can get him for you.

Andy, Viva would like
to talk to you, please.

Oh, no.

Yeah?

Valerie.

You put on makeup today.

You look pretty.

Valerie, uh, you can see
that we're really busy.

- You need to leave.
- Oh.

Oh!

You had too much control over my life.

Down with the patriarchy.

Suck my dick, Warhol!

Breaking news out of
Brookfield Heights, Michigan.

Five people are dead
and one is wounded...

...in an apparent mass
shooting at a crowded mall.

Residents were there
for a campaign rally

for city council candidate Kai Anderson.

...when area woman Meadow
Wilton opened fire

on the crowd.

We are impenetrable. We are...

Ms. Wilton shot the young politician

and then killed three more bystanders

before turning the gun on herself.

A second individual,
Allyson Mayfair-Richards,

is in police custody tonight.

So far, she refuses to speak.

"My wife's actions were
politically motivated.

"She wrote at length in her diary

"about her anger over
Hillary Clinton's loss,

"vowing payback against
Trump supporters.

She specifically mentioned
Kai Anderson as her target."

The eyes of the nation

are fixed on Brookfield Heights,

as Kai Anderson, the brave young man

who survived a would-be
assassin's bullet,

awaits the results of his
run for city council.

I just found out I'm
polling 20 points ahead.

We won!

Yes!

Yes! We did it!

Thank you so much.

Oh.

Holy shit.

I just got a retweet from Eric Trump.

Can I help you?

I don't go for this theatrical bullshit.

You're bullshit.

A bullshit puppet.

I can see your strings.

You've lost your way.

All women have.

Used to be easy to know a
man-cult when you saw one.

Before the lies

that blinded us to the inequalities.

The male wants desperately

to be led by females.

He wants Mama to be in charge.

But we keep giving away

the natural order of things.

I know what it means

to assassinate a man.

That pantomime the other night...

wasn't that, let me tell you.

What are you?

Homeless?

Schizo?

You want a couple of bucks to get high?

Pretty convenient for her
to miss her mark like that.

She could have walked right up to him

and bam, right in the cock!

Why didn't she?

Reunion Hotel, room 12.

Give me a ring-a-ding

when you're ready to
hear the truth, sister.

- Who the hell are you?
- Who the hell are you?

I'm Beverly motherfuckin' Hope,

and you're gonna want to get
the hell out of my way.

I don't have time for
this bullshit. Kai!

Gentlemen.

This is not how we treat

a distinguished member of the press.

And our dear friend.

Come inside.

What's going on?

Who are all these people?

Volunteers.

From all over.

Milwaukee, Cincinnati, Birmingham.

Looking to be a part of history.

It's all happening.

People are hearing us
and answering the call.

We're losing momentum.

Right now, people are
terrified, off-balance.

We need to build on that,
take it to the next level.

We need...

...fresh blood.

What the public is craving now

is stability.

I promised them law and order,
and I'm gonna give it to them.

That's not what we agreed to.

What happened to setting
the world on fire?

Beverly...

you worry too much.

We've succeeded.

The nation knows my name,
and it's all thanks to you.

You've done a phenomenal job.

Now it's time to sit back for a moment.

Take a break.

Kai...

we agreed to equal power.

That's not what this feels like.

You need to trust me.

Trust is the only thing that
forges real partnership.

Did Meadow put her trust in you?

Meadow was a troubled soul.

I've got city council
business to attend to.

Keep up the good work.

- It's time to go, Beverly.
- Don't touch me!

I've been expecting you.

Come in.

So no-one knows where she is?

The cops took her away.

She could be with the FBI or the
state police. I don't know.

God knows I wasn't gonna
be Ally's one phone call.

I called Samuels to check into it,

- but he won't pick up.
- You're wasting your time.

He's part of that sausage fest
in my brother's basement.

No girls allowed.

So, you think Ally's going to talk?

About what?

She doesn't know anything.

That she can prove.

You guys are closed tonight, right?
Yeah, it's Monday.

What's so important that you
wanted us to meet here...

- Who's this?
- Her name is Bebe Babbitt.

She found me, and she wants to help us.

You ladies have really stepped in it.

Shouldn't she be talking to Kai?

No. That's the whole point.

We thought this whole thing
would get us some damn respect.

He promised us a seat at the table,

but now that he has this bullshit seat

and national fame, he's
doing what men always do:

- push the women aside.
- Silly girls

are all stupid and doomed.

History may change,

but herstory always repeats itself.

It's true.

They con women into electing them,

then they defund Planned Parenthood

and force us to get
transvaginal ultrasounds

before we can get an abortion.

Tell them what you told me.

Tell them about Valerie.

Valerie was the love of my life.

She was an artist,

an intellectual, a writer...

a visionary.

Her name was Valerie Solanas.

The one who shot Andy Warhol?

I learned about her in my women's
studies class at Vassar.

She was one crazy bitch.

The world was crazy... she was
the only one who was sane.

The bullets she put in Andy Warhol

were the first shots of a revolution.

By the time Valerie was 15,
she had given birth twice,

inseminated by her father,
or her stepfather,

it could have been either.

I first met her in her
room at the Chelsea Hotel

in late '67.

She was 30 by then, and had just written

her masterwork, the SCUM Manifesto,

and would give stage readings.

It cost a dollar for women to
come listen, $2.50 for men.

"The male is completely egocentric,

"trapped inside of himself,

"incapable of empathizing with others,

of love or friendship,
affection or tenderness."

The SCUM Manifesto was the first time

someone had clearly laid
out the radical thesis

that men were the real
problem in society.

Has a woman ever started a war?

No. -Are the polluting,
Earth-murdering CEOs

of Standard Oil or Dow Chemical women?

- No.
- Do women wait

in dark hallways at night to rape men

as they come home from work?

Heck, no! -Hell, no. -Do women
molest their daughters?!

- No! -No!
- Do women pervert art

into commerce like some men we all know?

- No.
- She collected

a devoted group of followers
from those readings...

the street girls, hookers, throwaways.

There was Hedda...
abandoned in an orphanage

until she aged out and
ended up on the streets.

Loxi... shittiest hooker
in all of Manhattan.

Martha... the only black bisexual pimp

I've ever heard of to this day.

And butchy May, who was on the run

for killing a guy down south somewhere.

Talk doesn't work with men.

The only way to win
is to anti-assimilate

and play their game.

To do to them what they
have been doing to us

since the dawn of time.

This planet will not move forward

until we get our hands bloody

and murder every fuckin' man on it!
I've got a few

I'd like to shove to the
front of the damn line.

That's the spirit, Martha.

Even though our mission was
to destroy all the men,

there were some who were allowed...

men like Bruce and Maurice.

They were creeps. Masochists.
And homosexuals.

SCUM stands for the Society
for Cutting Up Men.

Our goal is to kill all men

who are not a part of the
men's auxiliary of SCUM.

These include little limp-wristers

like Bruce and Maurice
here, who by shining,

flaming example, encourage other men

to De-man themselves.

Any man present must give a speech

beginning with the words...

I am a turd,

a lowly abject turd.

And why should we let you stay, turd?

Because men have hurt me, too.

Rejected me.

Raped me in the showers in the barracks.

Fine, gender-traitor,

you can stay... for now.

Listen to this.

"The sick, irrational men...

"those who attempt to defend themselves

"against their own disgustingness

"when they see SCUM
barreling down on them...

"will cling in terror to Big Mama

"with her big, bouncy boobies,

but boobies won't protect
them from SCUM."

We relocated to San Francisco,

where the culture was really happening.

Once we were settled,

the ultimate plan appeared,

fully formed in Valerie's
beautiful mind.

I don't want you to go.

Yeah, but wars need martyrs.

And they need to be loud.

We need to make them face
their greatest fear...

their pussy envy... and we need to do it

in the only language that
these half-apes understand,

and that's violence.

Remember what I told you?
About where to start?

Couple-busting?

It's not just men

who are the problem.

It's women who think that by
spreading their legs for a man,

they gain value.

They're lost.

So we have to kill them both

to send a message.

What do you want us to
do when you're gone?

Get the fabric to make
the scum-colored cloaks

like I told you, and get the gun.

Then wait for my signal and go to work.

What's the signal?

You'll know.

Shooting Andy was the
signal for us to act.

We staked out a lovers lane,

picked the first couple we came upon.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Did you see that?

Oh, there's... raccoons out here, ducks.

What the hell?

You could've killed us.

SCUM is impatient.

SCUM will not be consoled by the thought

that future generations will thrive.

SCUM wants to grab

some thrilling living for itself.

Hold on.

David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen?

Those were the first victims
of the Zodiac Killer.

I've seen that Fincher
movie, like, 50 times.

It's my Baby Einstein.

Y-You didn't kill them; the Zodiac did.

Haven't you been listening, ingrate?

That was Valerie's plan all along.

We were the Zodiac.

The Zodiac Killer? They
were SCUM killings.

All murders ascribed to
the so-called Zodiac

were really the work by the
Society for Cutting Up Men.

Except no men were cut up, were they?

Stabbed, yes; shot.

And just as many of them were women.

What did I say? The plan was
to start with couple-busting.

To send the message to women

that coupling with men would
only get them killed.

It's all in Valerie's manifesto.

You look beautiful today.

Oh, thank you.

There's someone else here.

Everything we did was meticulous.

Valerie planned everything
down to the last detail.

Pass it to the women, turd.

Hold it up.

Look through the sight.

What do you see?

Crosshairs.

And in those crosshairs... men.

'Cause we're gonna use their own
invention to obliterate them.

And once we begin to rid the
Earth of this pestilence,

our fellow women will realize
they have nothing to fear

from the evolutionarily inferior male.

And they are going to
rise up and join us.

But a few of these bitches

are gonna have to die first.

Her assassination

of that phony Warhol was her signal

for us to begin her work.

It was the first shot
fired in a revolution.

Everything else she
directed from her cell

at the Matteawan Hospital
for the Criminally Insane

in New York.

And it was beautiful.

Everything according to plan.

But then someone started sending
letters to the newspapers.

Who the fuck is the Zodiac?!

I'm speechless. I don't understand.

Somebody,

Some piece of shit man

is taking credit for our work
by sending explicit details

of the murders to the paper,
then making people solve

this crazy crossword thing?

- It-It's a cipher.
- It's bullshit.

Some illiterate with a dick
that's using our hard work

to gain attention for himself!

Well, it's good, isn't it?

They won't be looking for us.

It's ours. We thought of it.

We're doing it.

People should fear us,
not some anonymous man

who has trouble spelling simple words.

Then let's take credit.

Let people know these
are SCUM murders. -No.

We have an agenda. We do
not release who we are

until a thousand people are dead, okay?

We will reverse the power structure

and regain our rightful
place at the apex.

Women will cut off the dead
weight of the patriarch

and divorce will sweep the country.

Valerie, you're not making sense.

Makes sense to me, and I'm the boss.

It's my manifesto. Not now.

Maybe this is...

some elaborate trap set by the police.

I know exactly what it is.

The goddamn leeches, men!

They want everything.

Their egos won't let them
accept anything less.

They need to be the agents
of creation and chaos,

and they will not stop
until the whole world

is in their grubby little hands!

While Valerie was in the nuthouse,

there was one other murder
attributed to Zodiac.

The taxi driver Paul Stine.

It wasn't us, it was the imposter.

The public had accepted
that a man was the killer.

His identity remained a mystery.

Once Valerie was out,

she made her way back
to us in San Francisco.

Some people

go to jail and find God.

One person in my block even mastered...

the flute.

But when I was in the joint,

I had an altogether
more personal epiphany,

one that I think will surprise
many of the people here tonight.

And that is that I, Valerie Solanas,

author of the SCUM Manifesto,

was dead fuckin' wrong about men.

I made a mistake.

I opened the door just enough

so that a few swingin'
dicks could come in.

I thought for sure there
had to be one or two

inoffensive men willing
to help with our cause,

but you know what I learned
when I was in the clink?

There are no exceptions.

Why don't you stand up, Maurice.

Come on, chop-chop.

Do it, turd!

Is there anything you've been
wanting to get off your chest?

Uh, I'm a turd.

Uh, an abject lowlife piece of garbage

- who's not fit to...
- No.

I mean, yes, you are a turd.
But I'm looking for a...

new confession.

Wh-What's that? A new play?

- Your next manifesto?
- Oh, come on,

I'm supposed to believe that
you never seen this, asshole?

That it wasn't wedged under your
bed as recently as last night

with a healthy collection
of beefcake magazines?

Same code, same handwriting

that was splashed across the
Chronicle, the Examiner,

the Vallejo Times! -We know
you wrote the letters, turd.

It's not mine. I'm-I'm not the Zodiac.

Fess up, Maurice.

Just like a man to take
credit for the work

of a woman.

Valerie, please...

Valerie, please, I-I'm nothing.

- I'm a turd. I'm just a turd.
- You did this

to yourself, Maurice...
you've got no one else

to blame but yourself.

Nice watch, Bruce!

Your willingness to let
your fellow man, Maurice,

meet my blade while you
just stood by silently

says more about your sex
than a million manifestos.

I've seen your chicken scratch, Bruce.

No cipher can hide piss-poor penmanship!

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry. I didn't want to.

I'm weak. I'm a weakling.

But I'm still a man!

Stand up!

Women of SCUM...

No. -...men have always
helped themselves

to our glory.

- But tonight...
- No.

...there are consequences.

Tonight, we carve out our future.

Tonight, we will say to
the patriarchy... -No!

...to go fuck yourself.

Get him!

Poor fella.

His dick and balls are missing.

Uh...

no, they're not.

Betty Lou Jensen,

David Faraday, Darlene Ferrin,

Cecelia Shepard.

These are the Zodiac killings.

SCUM killings, actually. But yes.

You're telling me you
are the Zodiac Killer?

That's correct.

You got any proof?

No. I was not present
for the actual murders.

Well, where were you?

I was masterminding the whole thing

from the Matteawan Institute
for the Criminally Insane.

Uh-huh. I'm gonna ask
you to leave now, miss.

You are a fool to underestimate

the rage of a woman!

I've been married 20 years...

that's the last thing I underestimate.

I'm not your wife. You
can't just ignore me.

Your kind will be obliterated,
killed off like dogs,

and SCUM will rule the Earth.

And you'll see. You'll all see.

No! Get your hands off me!

No! No! -BEBE: It was
like she had pulled off

the heist of the century,
and no one cared.

- I am the Zodiac...!
- No one believed her.

It just made her snap!

We have to think bigger.

'Cause the man in the moon,

Oh, he's a woman, my friends.

And when we're done, no
one will be able to deny

that SCUM was the dawn
of the revolution.

So, guess what?

I've made a hit list.

Some real disgusting motherfuckers.

Like this asshole, Hugh Hefner,

who's clearly threatened
by our feminine power,

so he subjugates and
attacks our self-worth

and our evolutionarily
superior female bodies!

Billy Graham... useless
fuckin' oppressor of women.

Bobby Riggs,

Steve McQueen.

Steve McQueen... he's the worst of all.

He took Ali MacGraw from us,
squandered her God-given talent,

and now she's a housewife
in fuckin' Malibu.

Everything fell apart.

Our crew scattered.

Our momentum lost.

The schizophrenia had taken hold.

She wasn't making any sense.

I couldn't get through to her.

It broke my heart to see her like that.

I couldn't be part of it anymore.

Valerie never stopped.

Her mind just kept going.

Oh, she was convinced

the patriarchy was out to crush her,

and she set out to create
a definitive record

of every offense for
all the world to see.

Oh, Valerie.

You've really let yourself go.

You've gained so much weight.

What the hell are you doing here?

You fucked with the keys on
my typewriter, didn't you?

That's just like you, Daddy,

always trying to impede the
progress of the female mind.

I'm here to set you free.

How can I be angry
with you for operating

within your feminine means?

You just didn't know any better, so...

I forgive you.

I've had men trying

to shut me up since I was a little girl.

What is it about little girls
that scares men so much?

Why won't they let us be
artists or scientists?

Why is it only men who
can create "great art,"

as you call it?

The game is rigged, you know.

And the people making the
decisions, the critics,

they're all men.

You men, so terrified
of what we might do,

you keep us stupid,

you keep us complacent.

You hold all the power.

Even now, no one sees me as a writer,

no one see me for my own thoughts.

When they hear the name Valerie Solanas,

they think "Andy Warhol."

You've taken my art.

You've taken my life.

You've taken my motherfucking legacy.

Who are you kidding?

Shooting me will be the only
thing you'll be remembered for.

I am your legacy.

She had been beaten down
one too many times.

She died alone...

used up...

spit out by the world.

Like Meadow.

Like you all will be...

if you let your minds be twisted up

by the machinations and
petty squabbles of men.

We're just cannon fodder.

Expendable.

You must reclaim the power...

before the maggots take you whole.

Before it's too late.

We have to strike back.

And this time...

we won't miss.

Do you think they'd be proud of me?

What I've accomplished?

Yeah. Why are you asking?

There's just so much pressure on me now.

Am I worthy...

of the responsibility that's
been hoisted upon my shoulders?

You can be screwed up,

and I don't agree with
everything you do,

but you're my brother...

and I love you.

The crown is heavy, Winter.

I'm making hard choices...

every day.

Even harder ones going forward.

This thing we're putting
together, it's real,

and it's gonna change the world.

But I can't do it alone.

Followers are followers.

I tell them what they want to
hear, and they will obey me.

You and me...

are family, though.

That matters.

I need to know I can
count on you, Winter.

Can I count on you?

Of course. What the hell, Kai?

Thanks.

Hey, Winter?

What's this?

I found it in your room when I
was looking for your Adderall.

It's just one of my old college books.

The ramblings of some crazy bitch.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Don't say that.

I was reading this, and it is...

fascinating.

Inspiring.

Really?

I've gotten this far on personality.

Charisma got me in the door,

but to take it to the next level,

I need a philosophy,
a mission statement,

something they can put
in the history books...

preferably...

With a catchy title.

So... you're gonna write a book?

No, I don't have time for that shit.

I'm just gonna release
something on social media.

But...

I was testing out titles like... SCUM.

What do you think of FIT?

Fear Is Truth.

What about...

MLWB?

Men Lead...

Women Bleed.

I think that one might
piss off the wrong people.

Yeah, I didn't like that one, either.

That one was Harrison's idea.

I think he's got a serious
hang-up about women.

Anyway...

Thanks for talking, sis.

Can I have some more alone
time with Mom and Dad?

No problem. I've got some shit

I got to take care of anyway.

Say hi to the girls for me.

I spoke to Kai earlier...
he has no idea.

That's good. It's supposed
to be a surprise.

Yeah. He deserves a victory party.

Hey. You know what I
want to make for him?

The Iron Throne from Game of Thrones.

Some of the guys that have
joined us are welders,

and I have these prop swords
from The Golden Compass...

one of Nicole's lesser successes.

It's gonna be awesome.

Kai's your king?

Don't you think that's
a little too much?

What do you know about anything?

Uh... are we early?

No. You're right on time.

You were supposed to get Kai.
Where is everybody?

The surprise is, you're
the guest of honor.

"The male likes death...
it excites him sexually,

"and, already dead inside,

he wants to die."

Who's this crazy bitch?

Jesus.

What do you want from me?

- Answers.
- Okay.

What happened to Meadow?

Kai wanted Ally to save her.

So I let her do it... I
didn't know she was gonna

- blow her own brains out.
- You should have known.

You were her husband, and
you let her be manipulated.

Oh, now you want to talk
about protecting our wives?!

I just drove my wife crazy.
I didn't get her killed!

Her death...

had more meaning than any
moment in her pathetic life.

And you know that.

And this is all Kai!

Kai's the genius!

He's the author of everything!

What about Men Lead, Women Bleed?

- You came up with that.
- What? No, I didn't.

Even if you just said it to impress

your new SS-wannabe
boyfriends, it's disgusting.

I never said it! -BEVERLY: Now
would be the time to deny it.

Not that we would ever believe you.

You of all people know what
it's like to be marginalized,

pushed out.

You're a gay man.

I'm a man!

- And we are SCUM!
- No!

Put him out of his misery.

No!

This is Beverly Hope reporting.

Violence has erupted in
Brookfield Heights once again

with the macabre murder of
Funtime Fitness Gym trainer,

Harrison Wilton.

Pieces of Mr. Wilton's
dismembered corpse

were found by joggers
early this morning,

placed in a grisly arrangement.

The body was covered in a film
of scum from the pond behind me.

Police have yet to determine a motive,

but due to the gruesome
nature of the crime,

believe the killing could be
in retaliation to the shooting

committed by the victim's
wife, Meadow Wilton.

Clearly, the promise of law and order

in Brookfield Heights is not being kept.

I can only pray this latest murder

is not a sign of things to come.

This is Beverly Hope.

Back to you in the studio.

They're at their best
when they're angry.

Don't you think?

Aren't we all?

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