George Carlin: Jammin' in New York (1992) - full transcript

(Applause)

Thank you,

thank you very much.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I appreciate it.

Thanks very much.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

I appreciate that.



Well, a lot of
things have happened

since the last time I saw you.

Just want to talk
a little bit about

that War in the Persian Gulf.

Big doings in
the Persian Gulf.

You know my favorite
part of that war?

It's the first
war we ever had

that was on every
channel plus cable.

And the war got good
ratings, too, didn't it?

Got good ratings.

Well, we like war.

We like war.

We're a warlike people.

We like war because
we're good at it.



And you know why
we're good at it?

Cause we get
a lot of practice.

This country's
only 200 years old

and already we've
had ten major wars.

We average a major
war in this country

every 20 years

so we're good at it.

And it's a good thing we are.

We're not very good
at anything else anymore.

Can't build a decent car.

Can't make a TV set
or a VCR worth a fuck.

Got no steel industry left.

Can't get healthcare
to our old people.

Can't educate
our young people.

But we can bomb the shit
out of your country all right.

Huh?

We can bomb the shit out
of your country all right.

Poof!

Poof!

Poof!

Especially if your country
is full of brown people.

Oh, we like that, don't we?

That's our hobby.

That's our new
job in the world,

bombing brown people.

Iraq, Panama, Grenada, Libya,

you got some brown
people in your country,

tell them to
watch the fuck out

or we'll goddamn bomb them.

Well, when's the last white
people you can remember

that we bombed?

Can you remember
the last white...

can't you remember any white
people we've ever bombed?

The Germans,

the Germans are the only ones,

and the only reason for that

is cause they were trying
to cut in on our action.

They wanted to
dominate the world.

Bullshit.

That's our fucking job.

That's our fucking job.

(Applause)

Now, we only
bomb brown people,

not because they're trying
to cut in on our action,

just because they're brown.

Now, you might be noticing

I don't feel about that war

the way we were told

we were supposed to
feel about that war,

the way we were
ordered and instructed

by the
United States government

to feel about that war.

See, my mind
doesn't work that way.

I got this real
moron thing I do.

It's called thinking.

And I'm not a
really good American

because I like to
form my own opinions.

I don't just roll
over when I'm told to.

Sad to say, most Americans

just roll over on command.

Not me, not me.

I have certain
rules I live by.

My first rule,

I don't believe anything
the government tells me,

nothing.

Zero.

And,

and I don't
take very seriously

the media or
the press in this country

who in the case of
the Persian Gulf War

were nothing more
than unpaid employees

of the Department of Defense

and who most of the
time function as kind of

an unofficial
public relations agency

for the
United States government.

So don't listen to them.

I don't really
believe in my country.

And I got to tell you, folks,

I don't get all choked up

about yellow ribbons
and American flags.

I consider them
to be symbols,

and I leave symbols

to the symbol minded.

To me, war is nothing but
a whole lot of prick waving.

Okay?

War is just a lot of men

standing around in a field

waving their pricks
at one another.

Simple thing.

That's all it is.

Men are insecure about
the size of their dicks

and so they have to
go to war over it.

That's what all that asshole
jock bullshit is all about.

That's what all that
adolescent macho,

male posturing and strutting
in bars and locker rooms

is all about.

It's called dick fear.

Men are terrified that
their pricks are inadequate

and so they have to
compete to feel better.

And because war is
the ultimate competition,

basically men are
killing one another

in order to improve
their self esteem.

You don't have to
be a history major

or a political
scientist to see

the Bigger Dick
Foreign Policy theory.

It sounds like this.

What?

They have bigger dicks?

Bomb them.

And, of course, the bombs and
the rockets and the bullets

are all shaped like dicks.

It's a subconscious need

to project the penis

into other people's affairs.

It's called
fucking with people.

So.

(Applause)

So,

as far as I'm concerned

that whole thing
in the Persian Gulf

nothing more than a big,
prick waving dick fight.

In this particular case,

Saddam Hussein had
challenged and questioned

the size of
George Bush's dick.

And George Bush has been
called a wimp for so long,

wimp rhymes with limp.

George has been called
a wimp for so long

that he has to act out
his manhood fantasies

by sending other
people's children to die.

Even the name Bush.

Even the name Bush,

is related to the genitals

without being the genitals.

A bush is a sort of passive,

secondary sex characteristic.

Now, if this man's name
had been George Boner,

well, he might have felt a
little better about himself,

and we wouldn't
have had any trouble

over there in the first place.

This whole country
has a manhood problem,

big manhood
problem in the USA.

You can tell from
the language we use.

Language always
gives you away.

What did we do
wrong in Vietnam?

We pulled out.

Not a very manly
thing to do, is it?

When you're fucking people,

you got to stay in
there and fuck them good,

fuck them all the way,

fuck them till the end.

Fuck them to death.

Fuck them to death.

Stay in there and
keep fucking them

until they're all dead.

We left a few women and
children alive in Vietnam,

and we haven't felt good
about ourselves since.

That's why George Bush had
to say in the Persian Gulf,

this will not be
another Vietnam.

He actually used these words.

This time we're
going all the way.

Imagine an American president

using the sexual
slang of a 13-year-old

to describe his
foreign policy.

If you want to know what
happened in the Persian Gulf,

just remember the
names of the two men

who were running that war,

Dick Cheney,

and Colin Powell.

Somebody got
fucked in the ass.

(Applause)

Thank you.

Now, I'd like to talk about

a few things that
bring us together.

Okay?

Things that emphasize
our similarities

instead of our differences,

which is all you ever
hear about in this country

is our differences.

That's all they
ever talk about,

politicians and the media.

Always pushing the
things that separate us,

things that make us different.

That's the way the ruling
class operates in any society.

They divide the
rest of the people.

They keep the lower
and the middle classes

fighting with each other

so that they the rich,

can run off with
all the fucking money.

Fairly simple thing.

Fairly simple thing.

Happens to work.

Anything that's
different about us,

you know that's what
they're pushing at you.

Racial differences,
religious, ethnic,

national backgrounds,
jobs, income, education,

social status, sexuality.

Anything they can do to keep
us fighting with each other

so that they can
keep going to the bank.

You know how I describe

the economic and social
classes in this country?

The upper class
keeps all of the money,

pays none of the taxes.

The middle class

pays all of the taxes,

does all of the work.

The poor are there

just to scare the shit
out of the middle class,

keep them showing
up at those jobs.

So in the midst of
stirring up the shit myself

a little bit from
time to time,

which I enjoy,

I do like knowing
I can always come back

to those little things
that make us all the same,

little moments we share,

universal moments,

things that are so
unimportant to us

we hardly ever mention
them to each other.

Did you ever
look at your watch

and then you don't
know what time it is.

So you look again,

and you still
don't know the time.

And you look at a third time,

and somebody says
what time is it,

and you say I don't know.

Did you ever notice how
sometimes all day Wednesday,

you keep thinking
it's Thursday.

And it happens over
and over all day long.

And then the next day,

you're all right again.

Did you ever find yourself

standing in one of
the rooms in your house

and you can't remember
why you went in there?

And two words float
across your mind,

Alzheimer's Disease?

You ever been
talking to yourself

and somebody comes in the room

and you have to make
believe you were singing?

And you hope to God

the other person really
believes there's a song called

What Does She Think
I Am, Some Kind of Putz?

Little experiences
we've all had.

You ever been sitting in a
railroad train in a station

and there's another train
sitting right next to you

and one of them starts to move

and you can't tell
which one it is?

How about when you're out on
a small boat on a windy day?

You ever been out on
a little boat, windy day,

rough waters
rocking back and forth,

trying to keep your
balance in a little boat?

And you get
back into the shore

and you get on the dock,

and you could swear there
was something inside of you

that was still out
there rocking around?

Did you ever try
to pick up a suitcase

you thought was
full but it wasn't?

And you go brooom.

And for just a split second,

you feel really strong.

How about looking through
a chain link fence?

Did you ever notice

if you're just the right
distance from a chain link fence,

sometimes it seems
to go doowoowoo?

What is that?

How do they do that?

Did you ever try
to tell somebody

they have a little bit
of dirt on their face?

You can never get them to
rub the right spot, can you?

You say you got a little
bit of dirt right here?

There always go where, here?

And you just want to slap
the bastard, you know?

You say, no, right
here, near your eye.

Did you ever notice
how awful your face looks

in a mirror in a restroom

that has florescent lights?

Every cut, scrape, scratch,
scar, scab, bruise, boil,

bump, pimple, zit,
wart, welt and abscess

you've had since birth

all seem to come
back at the same time.

And all you can think of is

I got to get the
fuck out of here

before they think
I really look like this.

This is not my real face.

Did you ever notice

when you're walking with
your arm around your date,

sometimes one of you has to
change the way you're walking?

Men and women
don't walk the same.

One of them has to change.

Either the man
has to walk like this.

Or the woman
has to walk like this.

Joey, how are you?

How about when you're
walking up a flight of stairs

and you think
there's one more step,

and you go harghh.

And then you have to kind of
keep doing that, you know,

so all the other
people will think

it's something
you do all the time.

I do this all the time.

It's the third
stage of syphilis.

Same thing happens when
you're going down the stairs,

doesn't it?

You could swear there
was one more step.

Bmm.

Holy shit.

My hips are in my chest.

When you drink grapefruit
juice in the morning,

do you go...

I do, too.

Why do we drink it?

It's like ice cream throat.

You know when you've been
eating ice cream real fast

and you get that frozen spot
on the back of your throat

and there's nothing
you can do about it

cause you can't
reach it to rub it?

You just have to kind of
wait for it to go away,

and it does.

Then what do you do?

Eat more ice cream.

What are we, fucking stupid?

Did you ever wake up
in the late afternoon.

Sorry.

Did you ever go to sleep
in the late afternoon

and wake up after dark

and you don't know
what goddamn day it is?

And you think
maybe it's yesterday.

How about when you're lying
with your head on the pillow?

Did you ever notice when you
have your head on the pillow,

if you close the bottom eye
the pillow is down there?

Then if you switch eyes,

the pillow moves up there.

Oh, holy shit,
Dave, look at this.

The mystery of
the moving pillow.

I think it's related to

the chain link fence
mystery myself, doowoowoo.

Did you ever have to sneeze
while you're taking a piss?

It's frightening, isn't it?

It's frightening cause
actually, you can't do it.

It's physically impossible

to sneeze while pissing.

Your brain won't
let it happen.

Your brain says stop pissing.

We're going to sneeze now.

Cause your brain knows

you might blow
your asshole out.

And wind up having to
paint the entire apartment.

Something else
we have in common,

flying on the airlines.

Flying on the airlines

and listening to the
airlines announcements

and trying to pretend
to ourselves that

that's the way the English
language ought to be spoken.

Doesn't sound that way to me.

Whole thing starts
when you get to the gate.

First announcement.

We would like to begin
the boarding process.

Extra word,

process,

not necessary.

Boarding is enough.

We'd like to
begin the boarding.

Simple, tells the story.

People add extra words when
they want things to sound

more important
than they really are.

Boarding process.

Sounds important.

It isn't.

It's just a bunch of people
getting on an airplane.

People like to
sound important.

Weathermen on television
talk about shower activity.

Sounds more
important than showers.

I even heard one guy on CNN

talk about a rain event.

Swear to God.

He said Louisiana's
expecting a rain event.

I thought, holy shit,

I hope I can
get tickets to that.

Emergency situation.

News people like to say
police have responded

to an emergency situation.

No, they haven't.

They're responded
to an emergency.

We know it's a situation.

Everything is a situation.

Anyway, as part of
this boarding process,

they say we would
like to pre-board.

What exactly is that?

What does it
mean to pre-board,

you get on before you get on?

That's another
complaint of mine,

too much use
of this prefix pre.

It's all over the language
now, pre-this, pre-that.

Place the turkey
in a pre-heated oven.

It's ridiculous.

There are only two states an
oven can possibly exist in,

heated or unheated.

Pre-heated is a
meaningless fucking term.

It's like pre-recorded.

This program was pre-recorded.

Well, of course
it was pre-recorded.

When else you going to
record it, afterwards?

That's the whole
principle of recording,

to do it beforehand.

Otherwise, it doesn't
really work, does it?

Pre-qualify,

pre-plan,

pre-screen.

You what I tell these people?

Pre-suck my genital situation.

And they seem to understand
what I'm talking about.

Anyway, as part
of this pre-boarding,

they say we would like to
pre-board those passengers

traveling with small children.

Well, what about
those passengers

traveling with large children?

Suppose you have
a two-year-old

with a pituitary disorder?

You know, a six-foot infant

with an oversized head,

the kind of kid you see

in the "National Inquirer"
all the time.

Actually, with
a kid like that,

I think you're better off
checking him right in

with your luggage
at the curb, don't you?

Well, they like
it under there.

It's dark.

They're used to that.

About this time,

someone is telling you
to get on the plane.

Get on the plane.

Get on the plane.

I say fuck you,

I'm getting in the plane.

Let Evil Kneivel
get on the plane.

I'll be in here with
you folks in uniform.

There seems to be
less wind in here.

They might tell you

you're on a non-stop flight.

Well, I don't think
I care for that.

No, I insist that
my flights stop,

preferably at an airport.

It's those sudden unscheduled

cornfield and housing
development stops

that seem to interrupt
the flow of my day.

Here's one they just made up,

near miss.

When two planes
almost collide,

they call it a near miss.

It's a near hit.

A collision is a near miss.

Boom.

Look, they nearly missed.

(Applause)

Yes, but not quite.

They might tell you your
flight has been delayed

because of a
change of equipment.

Broken plane.

They tell me to put
my seat back forward.

Well, I don't bend that way.

If I could put my
seat back forward,

I'd be in porno movies.

Then they mention
carry on luggage.

First time I heard carry on,

I thought they were going to
bring a dead deer on board.

I thought what the hell
do they need with that.

Don't they have the
little TV dinners anymore?

Then I thought
carry on, carry on,

there's going to be a party.

People are going to be
carrying on, on the plane.

Well, I don't care for that.

I like a serious
attitude on the plane,

especially on the flight deck

which is the latest
euphemism for cockpit.

Can't imagine why they
wouldn't want to use

a lovely word like
cockpit, can you?

Especially with
all those stewardesses

going in and out
of it all the time.

There's a word that's changed,

Stewardess.

First, it was Hostess,

then Stewardess,

now, it's flight attendant.

You know what I call her,

the lady on the plane.

Sometimes it's a
man on the plane now.

That's good equality,

I am all in favor of that.

Occasionally, they actually
refer to these people as

uniformed crew members.

Uniformed.

As opposed to that guy
sitting next to you

in the Grateful Dead tee shirt

and the fuck you hat,

who's working on his

ninth little bottle
of Kaluha I might add.

As soon as they close
the door to the aircraft,

that's when they begin
the safety lecture.

I love the safety lecture.

This is my favorite
part of the plane ride.

I listen very carefully
to the safety lecture,

especially that part
where they teach us

how to use the seat belt.

Imagine this.

Here we are a plane full
of grown human beings,

many of us
partially educated,

and they're actually
taking time out

to describe the intricate
workings of a belt buckle.

Place the small metal
flap into the buckle.

Well, I ask for
clarification at that point.

Pardon me, over here, please.

Thank you very much.

Did I hear you correctly?

Did you say place
the small metal flap

into the buckle

or place the buckle

over and around
the small metal flap?

I'm a simple man.

I do not possess an
engineering degree

nor am I
mechanically inclined.

Sorry to have taken up
so much of your time.

Please continue with the
wonderful safety lecture.

Seat belts, high tech shit.

The next thing they do,

they tell you to locate
your nearest emergency exit.

I do this immediately.

I locate my nearest
emergency exit

and then I plan my route.

You have to plan your route.

It's not always a
straight line, is it?

Sometimes there's
a really big fat fuck

sitting right in front of you.

Well, you know you'll
never get over him.

I look around for women and
children, midgets and dwarfs,

cripples, war widows,
paralyzed veterans,

people with broken legs,

anyone who looks like
they can't move too well.

The emotionally disturbed
come in very handy

at a time like this.

You may have to go out of
your way to find these people,

but you'll get
out of the plane

a lot goddamn
quicker, believe me.

I say let's see,

I'll go around the fat fuck,

step on the widow's head,

push those children
out of the way,

knock down the
paralyzed midget

and get out of the plane

where I can help others.

(Applause)

I can be of no help to anyone

if I'm lying
unconscious in the aisle

with some big cock sucker
standing on my neck.

I must get out of the plane,

go to a nearby farmhouse,

have a Dr. Pepper,

and call the police.

The safety lecture continues.

In the unlikely event.

This is a very suspect phrase.

Especially coming as
it does from an industry

that is willing to lie about
arrival and departure times.

In the unlikely event

of a sudden change
in cabin pressure.

Roof flies off.

An oxygen mask will
drop down in front of you.

Place the mask over your
face and breathe normally.

Well, I have no
problem with that.

I always breathe normally

when I'm in a 600 mile an hour

uncontrolled vertical dive.

I also shit normally.

Right in my pants.

They tell you to
adjust your oxygen mask

before helping
your child with his.

I did not need
to be told that.

In fact, I'm
probably going to be

too busy screaming
to help him at all.

This will be a good time for
him to learn self reliance.

If he can program
his fucking VCR,

he can goddamn jolly well

learn to adjust
an oxygen mask.

Fairly simple thing,

just a little rubber band
in the back is all it is.

Not nearly as complicated
as, say, for instance,

a seat belt.

The safety lecture continues.

In the unlikely event

of a water landing.

Well, what exactly
is a water landing.

Am I mistaken or does
this sound somewhat similar

to crashing into the ocean?

Your seat cushion can be
used as a flotation device.

My seat cushion.

Imagine that.

Just what I need,

to float around the North
Atlantic for several days

clinging to a pillow
full of beer farts.

(Applause)

The flight continues.

A little later on, we hear

the captain has turned on
the fasten seat belt sign.

Well, who gives a
shit who turned it on?

What does that have
to do with anything?

It's on, isn't it?

And who made this man
a captain, might I ask?

Did I sleep
through some sort of

an Armed Forces swearing
in ceremony or something?

Captain?

He's a fucking pilot and
let him be happy with that.

If those sightseeing
announcements he's making

are any mark of his intellect,

he's lucky to
be working at all.

Tell the captain

Air Marshal Carlin
says go fuck yourself.

(Applause)

The next sentence I hear

is full of things
that piss me off.

Before leaving the aircraft,

please check around
your immediate seating area

for any personal belongings

you might have
brought on board.

Well, let's start with
immediate seating area.

Seat.

It's a goddamn seat.

Check around your seat.

For any personal belongings.

Well, what other kinds
of belongings are there,

besides personal?

Public belongings?

Do these people honestly
think I might be traveling

with a fountain
I stole from the park?

You might have
brought on board.

Well,

I might have brought
my arrowhead collection.

I didn't,

so I'm not going
to look for it.

I am going to look for
things I brought on board.

Which seem to enhance

the likelihood of
my finding something,

wouldn't you say?

They tell me to return my
seat back and tray table

to their original
upright positions.

Fine.

Who's going to
return this guy

in the Grateful Dead
tee shirt and the fuck you hat

to his original
upright position?

About this time, they tell
you you'll be landing shortly.

That sound to you like we're
going to miss the runway?

Final approach is not very
promising either, is it?

Final is not a good word
to be using on an airplane.

Sometimes the
pilot will get on,

and he'll say we'll be on
the ground in 15 minutes.

Well, that's a little
vague, isn't it?

Now, we're taxiing in.

She says welcome to
O'Hare International Airport.

Well, how can someone

who is just arriving herself

possibly welcome me to a
place she isn't even at yet?

(Applause)

Doesn't this violate
something in physics?

We're only on the
ground four seconds

and she's coming on like
the fucking mayor's wife.

Where the local time.

Well, of course,
it's the local time.

What does she think
we're expecting,

the time in Pango Pango.

Enjoy your stay in Chicago

or wherever your final
destination might be.

All destinations are final.

That's what it means,
destiny, final.

If you haven't gotten
where you're going,

you aren't there yet.

The captain has asked.

More shit from
the bogus captain.

You know, for someone who's
supposed to be flying an airplane,

he's taking a
mighty big interest

in what I'm doing back here.

That you remain seated

until he has
brought the aircraft

to a complete stop.

Not a partial stop

cause during a partial stop,

I partially get up.

Please continue to
observe the no smoking sign

until well inside
the terminal.

It's physically impossible to
observe the no smoking sign

even if you're just outside
the door of the airplane

much less well
inside the terminal.

You can't even
see the fucking planes

from well inside the terminal.

Which brings me to terminal,

another unfortunate word

to be used in
association with air travel.

And they use it all over
the airport, don't they?

Somehow I just
can't get hungry

at a place called
the Terminal Snack Bar.

But if you've
ever eaten there,

you know it is an
appropriate name.

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

Appreciate that.

Thank you very much.

Thanks very much.

Thank you very much.

Speaking of places to eat

and what they're named,

Beverly Hills has
a brand new restaurant

specifically for
bulimia victims.

It's called the
Scarf and Barf.

Well, they were going to
call it the Fork and Bucket.

Thank God good
taste prevailed.

How about a
restaurant for anorexics?

What would you call that?

The Empty Plate,

the Lonesome Chef,

Start Without Me, Guys.

See, somehow I can't
feel sorry for an anorexic,

you know?

Rich cunt, don't want to eat.

Fuck her.

Fuck her.

Don't eat.

Don't eat, I give a shit.

Like I'm supposed to be
real concerned about this.

I don't want to eat.

Go fuck yourself.

Why don't you lie down
in front of a railroad train

right after you don't eat?

What kind of a goddamned
disease is that anyway?

I don't want to eat.

How do we come up with
this shit in this country?

Where do we get
our values from?

Bulimia, there's
another winner.

Real all American disease.

This has got to be the
only country in the world

that could ever have
come up with bulimia.

Got to be the only country

where some people are digging
in the dumpster for a peach pit.

Other people eat a nice meal

and puke it up intentionally.

Where's the morality in that?

I don't understand our values.

By the way, speaking
of American values,

aren't we about due to start
bombing some small country

that only has a marginally
effective air force?

Seems to me like we're a
couple of weeks overdue

to drop high explosives
on helpless civilians,

people who have no argument
with us whatsoever.

I think we ought to be out there
doing what we do best, gang,

making big holes in
other people's countries.

I hate to be repetitious but,
God, we are a warlike lot,

you know.

We can't stand not to be
fucking with somebody.

We couldn't wait for that
cold war to be over, could we?

Just couldn't wait for that
cold war to be over so we

could go and play with
our toys in the sand.

Go play with our
toys in the sand.

And when we're not invading
some sovereign nation

or setting it on fire from
the air, which is more fun,

then we're usually declaring
war on something here at home.

Did you ever notice that?

We love to do that, don't we?

We love to declare war
on things here in America.

Anything we don't
like about ourselves,

we have to declare war on it.

And don't do
anything about it.

We just declare war on it.

We got a war,

it's the only metaphor we
have in our public discourse

for solving a problem.

It's called declaring a war.

We got a war on poverty,
war on crime, war on litter,

the war on cancer,

the war on drugs.

But you ever notice

there's no war on
homelessness, is there?

Nah, no war on homelessness.

You know why?

There's no money
in that problem.

There's no money
in that problem.

Nobody stands...

(Applause)

It's true.

Nobody stands to get
rich off of that problem.

You could find a
solution to homelessness

where the corporate
swine and the politicians

could steal a couple
of million dollars each,

you'd see the streets of
America begin to clear up

pretty goddamn quick.

I'll guarantee you that.

I will guar-an-tee you that.

Now, so

I got an idea
for homelessness.

You know what
they ought to do?

You know what
they ought to do?

Give the homeless
their own magazine.

Give them own magazine.

It'll make them feel
better for one thing.

That's a sure sign of
making it in this country.

Every group in this country

that makes it and
arrives at a certain level

has its own magazine.

You have Working
Mother Magazine,

Black Entrepreneur Magazine,

Hispanic Business Magazine.

In fact, any activity,

any activity engaged in

by more than four
people in this country

has got a fucking
magazine devoted to it.

Skydiving,

mountain climbing,

snow mobiling,

pack backing,

bungee jumping,

duck hunting,

shooting someone in the
asshole with a dart gun,

jerking off, they probably
have a magazine for that.

I'm sure they have.

I know they have a magazine.

Walking.

Walking!

There's actually a fucking
magazine called Walking.

Look, Dan, the new
Walking is out.

Here's a good article,

Putting One Foot
in Front of the Other.

Give them their own magazine.

Give them, give the
homeless their own magazine.

You know what you call it?

Better Crates and Cartons.

Then when they get
finished reading it,

they can use it to
line their clothing.

That's a good sound
business solution.

That's the kind
of answer you get

from a conservative
American businessman.

Say, yeah, let them read it.

When they get
finished reading it,

they can use it to plug up
the holes in them piano crates

they all seem
to like to live in.

A good sound, practical,

conservative American
business solution.

I'll tell you what they ought
to do about homelessness.

First thing, change
the name of it.

Change the name
of the condition.

It's not homelessness.

It's houselessness.

It's houses these people need.

A home is an abstract idea.

A home is a setting.

It's a state of mind.

These people need houses,

physical, tangible structures.

But where you
going to put them?

Where you going to build them?

Nobody wants you to build low
cost housing near their house.

People don't
want it near them.

We got something
in this country.

You've heard of it,
it's called NIMBY,

N-l-M-B-Y,
not in my back yard.

People don't want
any kind of social help

located anywhere near them.

You try to open up
a halfway house,

try to open a rehab center
for drugs or alcohol,

try to build a little home
for some retarded people

who want to work their
way into the community,

people say not
in my back yard.

People don't want
anything near them,

especially if it might
help somebody else.

Part of the great American
spirit of generosity

we're always told about.

Prrrr.

Big generous American nation.

Ask an Indian about that.

Ask an Indian how
generous this country is,

if you can find one.

You got to locate
the Indian first.

We've made him just
a little difficult to find.

Or if you need current data,

select a black family
at random and ask them

how generous this
country has been.

People don't want
anything near them,

even if it's something
they believe in,

something they think
society needs like prisons.

Everybody wants that, right?

Everybody wants more prisons.

That's the new answer
to all of our problems,

lock a lot of
motherfuckers up.

Everybody wants more prisons.

They say
build more prisons

but not here.

Well, why not?

What's wrong?

What's the problem?

What's wrong with having a
prison in your neighborhood?

It would seem to
me like it would make it

a pretty crime free
area, don't you think?

You think a lot of
crack heads, and muggers,

and pimps, and hookers,
are going to be hanging around

in front of a fucking prison?

Bullshit.

They ain't coming
anywhere near it?

What's wrong
with these people?

All the criminals are
locked up behind the walls.

And if a couple
of them do break out,

what do you think
they're going to do?

Hang around,

check real estate trends?

Bullshit, (whistle)
They're fucking gone.

That's the whole idea
of breaking out of prison

is to get the fuck as far away

as you possibly can.

Not in my back yard.

People don't want
anything near them.

Except military bases.

They don't mind that, do they?

No, they like that.

Give them an army base.

It makes them happy.

Why? Jobs.

Jobs, self interest.

Even if the base is loaded
with nuclear weapons,

they don't give a fuck.

They say, well,

I'll take a little
radiation if I can get a job.

Working people have been

fucked over so
long in this country,

those are the kind of
decisions they're left to make.

I got just the place
for low cost housing.

I have solved this problem.

I know where we can build
housing for the homeless.

Golf courses.

(Applause)

Perfect.

Golf courses.

Just what we need.

Plenty of good land
in nice neighborhoods,

land that is
currently being wasted

on a meaningless,
mindless activity

engaged in primarily by white,

well to do male businessmen

who use the game to get
together to make deals

to carve this country up

a little finer
among themselves.

I am getting tired,

really tired.

(Applause)

I am getting tired of
these golfing cock suckers

in their green pants

and their yellow pants

and their orange pants

and their precious little hats

and their cute
little golf carts.

It is time to reclaim the
golf courses from the wealthy

and turn them over
to the homeless.

Golf is an arrogant,
elitist game,

and it takes up

entirely too much
fucking room in this country,

too much fucking
room in this country.

(Applause)

It is an arrogant game

on it's very design alone.

Just the design of the
game speaks of arrogance.

Think of how big
a golf course is.

The ball is that fucking big.

What do these pinheaded pricks
need with all that land?

There are over 17,000
golf courses in America.

They average over
150 acres apiece.

That's over 3 million acres.

That's 4,820 square miles.

You could build
two Rhode Islands

and a Delaware
for the homeless

on the land currently
devoted to this

meaningless, mindless,
arrogant, elitist, racist,

racist,

there's another thing.

The only blacks you
will find in country clubs

are carrying trays.

And a boring game,

for boring people.

Did you ever watch
golf on television?

It's like watching flies fuck.

And a mindless game, mindless.

Think of the intellect.

Think of the
intellect it must take

to draw pleasure
from this activity,

hitting a ball
with a crooked stick

and then walking after it.

And then hitting it again.

I say pick it up, asshole.

You're lucky you
found the fucking thing.

Put it in your pocket
and go the fuck home.

Go the fuck home.

You're a winner.

No.

No chance of that happening.

Dorko in the plaid knickers
is going to hit it again

and walk some more.

Let these rich cock suckers
play miniature golf.

Let them fuck with a windmill
for an hour and a half or so.

See if there's any
real skill among them.

Now, I know there are
some people who play golf

who don't consider
themselves rich.

Fuck them.

And shame on them

for engaging in an
arrogant, elitist pastime.

Hey, here's another place we
could put some low cost housing,

cemeteries.

There's another idea
whose time has passed.

Saving all the dead people
in one part of town?

What the hell kind of a
superstitious, religious,

medieval bullshit
idea is that?

Plow these motherfuckers up.

Plow them into the streams
and rivers of America.

We need that
phosphorous for farming.

If we're going to recycle,

let's get serious.

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

I appreciate that.

I appreciate that.

Ah, a little refreshment.

I assume the water is safe
to drink in our city still.

Is it?

Hm?

Yeah.

Yeah, I only really
asked the question

to set you up a little bit.

I'm sorry.

I don't mean to use you but

I don't really care
about the water.

I just love to hear the
answer to that question.

You know, I ask
it everywhere I go.

How's the water?

Haven't gotten a
positive answer yet.

Not one.

Last year I was in 40 states,

over 100 cities.

Not one audience
was able to say to me,

yes, enjoy some of
our fine local water.

It is pure and it is good.

Course, I realize a lot of people
don't speak that way anymore,

but nobody trusts
their local water supply,

nobody.

And that amuses me.

I like that.

It amuses me.

I admit I'm a bit perverted,

but it amuses me that no one

can really trust
the water anymore.

And the thing I like
about it the most,

the reason I like
it is that it means

the system is
beginning to collapse

and everything is
starting to break down.

I enjoy chaos and disorder,

not just because they
help me professionally.

No, it's also my hobby.

You see, I'm an entropy fan.

When I first heard of entropy
in high school science,

I was attracted
to it immediately.

When they told
me that in nature

all systems are breaking down,

I thought what a good thing.

What a good thing.

Perhaps I can make some

small contribution
in this area myself.

And, of course,
it's not just in nature.

In this country,
the social structure,

just beginning to collapse.

You watch.

Just beginning now

to come apart at the
edges and the seams.

And the thing
I like about that

is that it makes the news on
television more interesting.

Makes it more exciting.

Makes the TV news more fun.

I watch TV news for one
thing and one thing only,

entertainment.

That's all I want from
the news, entertainment.

You know my favorite
thing on television?

Bad news.

Bad news and disasters and
accidents and catastrophes.

I'm looking for some
explosions and fires.

I want to see shit blown up
and bodies flying around.

I don't care about the budget.

I'm not interesting in
the labor negotiations.

I don't want to know what
country the fucking Pope is in.

But you show me a
hospital that's on fire

and people on crutches
are jumping off the roof,

and I'm a happy guy.

I want to see an
oil refinery explode.

I want to see a
paint factory blowing up.

I want to see a tornado
hit a church on Sunday.

I want to know
there's some guy

running through the K-Mart

with an automatic weapon
firing at the clerks.

I want to see
thousands of people

in the street
killing policemen.

I want to hear about
a nuclear meltdown.

I want to know the stock market
dropped 2,000 points in one day.

I want to see people
under pressure.

Sirens, flames, smoke,
bodies, shit blowing up.

My kind of TV.

Graves being filled,
parents weeping.

My kind of television.

I just want some
entertainment.

It's just the
kind of guy I am.

It's the kind of guy I am.

You know what I love the most?

When big chunks of
concrete and fiery wood

are falling out of the sky

and people are running around
trying to get out of the way.

Exciting shit.

That's why
I watch auto racing.

It's the only reason
I watch auto racing.

I'm waiting for
some accidents, man.

I want to see
some cars on fire.

I'm not interested in a
bunch of redneck jack offs

driving 500 miles in a circle.

500 miles in a circle?

Doesn't impress me.

Children can do that.

I want to see some schmuck
with his hair on fire

running around
punching his own head

trying to put it out.

I want to see
the pits explode.

I want to see cars doing
200 mile an hour cartwheels.

Hey, where else
besides auto racing

am I going to see
a 23-car collision

and not be in
the son of a bitch?

And if a couple of
cars fly off the track

and land in the stands

and kill 50 or 60
spectators, fine.

Fuck them.

Serves them right.

They paid to get in.

Let them take their
chances with everybody else.

Just means more fun for me.

More fun for me.

Hey, at least I admit it.

At least I admit it.

Most people won't admit
to those thoughts.

Most people, you know,

see something like
that on television,

they'll say,
oh, isn't that awful,

isn't that too bad.

Brrr, lying asshole.

Lying asshole,

you love it and you know it.

Explosions are fun.

And the closer the
explosion is to your house,

the more fun it is.

Did you ever notice that?

Sometimes you have the TV on

and you're working
around the house,

some guy comes
on and he says

6,000 people were killed
in an explosion today.

You say where, where?

He says in Pakistan.

You say, oh, fuck Pakistan.

Too far away to be any fun.

But if he says it
happened in your hometown,

you'll say, whoa, hot shit.

Come on, Dave, let's
go look at the bodies.

Let's go look at the bodies.

I love bad news.

I love bad news.

Hey, the more
bad news there is,

the faster this
system collapses.

Fine by me.

Fine by me.

Don't bother my ass.

I'm glad the water sucks.

You know what I do about it?

I drink it.

(Applause)

Unless,

unless it really smells.

You know, if it
smells like sulfur,

then I might buy a soda,

but it's got to be a soda

loaded with
chemical additives.

I like a lot of
chemical additives

in the things I eat and drink.

See, I'm not one
of these people

who's worried
about everything.

You got these
people around you,

country's full of them now,

people walking
around all day long,

all day long worried
about everything.

Worried about the air,

worried about the water,

worried about the soil,

worried about pesticides,

insecticides, food
additives, carcinogens.

Worried about radon gas,

worried about asbestos.

Worried about saving
endangered species.

Let me tell you about
endangered species, all right?

Saving endangered species is
just one more arrogant attempt

by humans to control nature.

It is arrogant meddling.

It's what got us in
trouble in the first place.

Doesn't anybody
understand that.

Interfering with nature.

Over 90 percent,

way over 90 percent
of all the species

that have ever
lived on this planet,

ever lived are gone Whoosh.

They're extinct.

We didn't kill them all.

They just disappeared.

That's what nature does.

They disappear these days
at the rate of 25 a day,

regardless of our
behavior I mean.

Irrespective of how
we act on this planet,

25 species that
were here today,

will be gone tomorrow.

Let them go gracefully.

Leave nature alone.

Haven't we done enough?

We're so self important,

so self important.

Everybody's going to
save something now.

Let's save the trees,

save the bees,

save the whales,

save those snails.

And the greatest
arrogance of all,

save the planet.

What?

Are these fucking
people kidding me?

Save the planet?

We don't know how to
take care of ourselves yet.

We haven't learned
how to help one another.

We're going to save
the fucking planet?

I am getting
tired of that shit.

I'm tired of
fucking Earth Day.

I'm tired of these fucking self
righteous environmentalists.

I'm tired of these white,

liberal,

bourgeois,
liberal white people

who think the only thing
wrong with this planet

is there aren't
enough bicycle paths

trying to make the world

safe and clean
for their Volvos.

And I'm really sick,

really sick of these
rock stars and movie stars

going to work off
their cocaine guilt

by saving a forest somewhere.

Besides,

besides, there's nothing,

besides, first of all,

the environmentalists don't
give a shit about the planet.

They don't care
about the planet.

Not in the
abstract they don't.

Know what
they're interested in?

A clean place to live,

their own habitat.

They're worried that
some day in the future

they might be
personally inconvenienced.

Narrow, unenlightened self
interest doesn't impress me.

Besides there's nothing
wrong with the planet.

The planet is fine.

The people are fucked.

The people are fucked.

Compared to the people,

the planet is doing great.

The planet has been here

for four and a
half billion years.

All right?

Four and a half billion.

We've been here what, 100,000?

Maybe.

200,000?

Maybe.

And we've only been
engaged in heavy industry

for a little over 200 years.

Two hundred years

versus four and
a half billion.

And we have the conceit

to think that
somehow we're a threat,

that somehow we're
going to put in jeopardy

this beautiful little
blue green ball

that's just a-floating
around the sun?

Planet has been through a lot
worse than us for a long time.

Been through earthquakes,
volcanoes, plate tectonics,

continental drifts,
solar flares, sunspots,

magnetic storms, the magnetic
reversal of the poles,

bombardments for hundreds of
thousands of years

by comets and
asteroids and meteors,

sandstorms,
erosion of all kinds,

cosmic radiation,

worldwide fires,

worldwide floods,

recurring ice ages,

and we think
some aluminum cans

and some plastic bags

are going to
make a difference.

Planet isn't going anywhere.

We are.

We're going away.

We're going away.

Pack your shit, folks,

we're going away.

And we won't leave
much of a trace either.

Thank God for that.

Maybe a little Styrofoam,

maybe a little Styrofoam.

Planet will be here,

and we'll be long gone,

just another failed mutation,

just another closed
end biological mistake

an evolutionary cul-de-sac.

Planet will shake us off
like a bad case of fleas,

a surface nuisance.

If you want to know
how the planet's doing,

ask those people in Pompeii

who are frozen into
position from volcanic ash

how the planet's doing.

Want to know if the
planet's all right,

ask the people in
Mexico City or Armenia

or a hundred other places

buried under thousands
of tons of earthquake rubble

if they feel like a real
threat to the planet this week.

How about the people
in Kilauea, Hawaii,

who build their homes right
next to an active volcano

and then wonder why they
have lava in the living room.

Planet is going to be here

a long, long, long
time after we're gone,

and it will heal itself.

It will cleanse itself
cause that's what it does.

It's a self correcting system.

The air and the
water will recover.

The earth will be renewed.

And, say, if it's true that
plastic doesn't degrade,

well, the planet will
simply incorporate plastic

into a new paradigm,

the earth plus plastic.

The planet doesn't share our
prejudice towards plastic.

Plastic came out of the earth.

The earth probably
sees plastic

as just another one
of its children.

Could be the only reason
the earth allowed us

to be spawned from it
in the first place.

It wanted plastic for itself.

Didn't know how to make it.

Needed us.

Could be the answer

to our age old
philosophical question,

why are we here.

Plastic, assholes.

(Applause)

So the plastic is here.

Our job is done.

We can be phased out now,

and I think that's really
started already, don't you?

I mean to be fair,

the planet probably
sees us as a mild threat,

something to be dealt with.

And I'm sure the planet
will defend itself.

In the manner of a large
organism like a beehive

or an ant colony can
muster a defense,

I'm sure the planet
will think of something.

What would you do
if you were the planet

trying to defend against this

pesky, troublesome species?

Let's see.

What might, hm, viruses,

viruses might be good.

They seem
vulnerable to viruses.

And viruses are tricky,

always mutating and
forming new strains

whenever a vaccine
is developed.

Perhaps this first
virus could be one

that compromises the immune
system of these creatures,

perhaps a human
immunodeficiency virus

making them vulnerable

to all sorts of other
diseases and infections

that might come along.

And maybe it could
be spread sexually,

making them
a little reluctant

to engage in the
act of reproduction.

Well, that's a poetic note.

And it's a start.

And I can dream, can't I?

I don't worry about
the little things,

bees, trees, whales, snails.

I think we're part
of a greater wisdom

than we will
ever understand,

a higher order.

Call it what you want.

Know what I call it?

The big electron.

The big electron.

Whoa,

whoa,

whoa.

It doesn't punish.

It doesn't reward.

It doesn't even judge.

It just is

and so are we,

for a little while.

Thanks for being here with me
for a little while tonight.

(Applause)

Thank you.

Thank you.

Appreciate it.

Thanks very much.

And take care of yourself.

(Applause)