“Asshole”
[Spoken]
Folks, I’d like to sing a song about the American Dream. About me. About you. The way our American hearts beat down in the bottom of our chests. About the special feeling we get in the cockles of our hearts, maybe below the cockles, maybe in the sub-cockle area. Maybe in the liver. Maybe in the kidneys. Maybe even in the colon, we don’t know.
I’m just a regular Joe with a regular job
I’m your average white suburbanite slob
I like football and porno and books about war
I’ve got an average house with a nice hardwood floor
My wife and my job, my kids and my car
My feet on my table, and a cuban cigar
But sometimes that just ain’t enough to keep a man like me interested
(Oh no) No Way (Uh-uh)
No, I’ve gotta go out and have fun
At someone else’s expense
(Oh yeah) Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
I drive really slow in the ultrafast lane
While people behind me are going insane
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, what an asshole)
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, such an asshole)
I use public toilets and piss on the seat
I walk around in the summertime saying, “How about this heat?”
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, what an asshole)
I’m an asshole (He’s the world’s biggest asshole)
Sometimes I park in handicapped spaces
While handicapped people make handicapped faces
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, what an asshole)
I’m an asshole (He’s a real fucking asshole)
Maybe I shouldn’t be singing this song
Ranting and raving and carrying on
Maybe they’re right when they tell me I’m wrong
Naaaah!
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, what an asshole)
I’m an asshole (He’s the world’s biggest asshole)
[Spoken]
You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, hot pink with whaleskin hub caps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah! And I’m gonna drive around in that baby at 115mph getting one mile per gallon, sucking down quarter pounder cheese burgers from McDonald’s in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers and when I’m done sucking down those grease ball burgers, I’m gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag and then I’m gonna toss the styrofoam container right out the side and there ain’t a God damned thing anybody can do about it. YOu know why? Because we got the bombs, that’s why.
[Spoken]
Two words. Nuclear fucking weapons, okay?! Russia, Germany, Romania - they can have all the Democracy they want. They can have a big democracy cake-walk right through the middle of Tiananmen square and it won’t make a lick of difference because we’ve got the bombs, okay?! John Wayne’s not dead - he’s frozen. And as soon as we find the cure for cancer we’re gonna thaw out the duke and he’s gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? Have you ever taken a cold shower? Well multiple that by 15 million times, that’s how pissed off the Duke’s gonna be. I’m gonna get the Duke and John Cassavetes...
(Hey)
and Lee Marvin
(Hey)
and Sam Pekinpah
(Hey)
And a case of Whiskey and drive down to Texas...
(Hey,
you know you really are an asshole)
Why don’t you just shut-up and sing the song pal!
I’m an asshole (He’s an asshole, what an asshole)
I’m an asshole (He’s the world’s biggest asshole)
A-S-S-H-O-L-E Everybody! A-S-S-H-O-L-E
[Barking]
Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf
Fung achng tum a fung tum a fling chum
Oooh Oooh
[Spoken]
I’m an asshole and proud of it!
”Drugs”
”Ladies and Gentlemen, due to illness, tonight the part of Denis Leary, will be played by Denis Leary. And now welcome Denis Leary.”
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And fuck you.
There’s a guy - I don’t know if you’ve heard about this guy, he’s been on the news a lot lately. There’s a guy - he’s English, I don’t think we should hold that against him, but apparently this is just his life’s dream because he is going from country to country. He has a senate hearing in this country coming up in a couple of weeks. And this is what he wants to do. He wants to make the warnings on the packs bigger. Yeah! He wants the whole front of the pack to be the warning. Like the problem is we just haven’t noticed yet. Right? Like he’s going to get his way and all of the sudden smokers around the world are going to be going, “Yeah, Bill, I’ve got some cigarettes.. HOLY SHIT! These things are bad for you! Shit, I thought they were good for you! I thought they had Vitamin C in them and stuff!” You fucking dolt! Doesn’t matter how big the warnings are. You could have cigarettes that were called the warnings. You could have cigarettes that come in a black pack, with a skull and a cross bone on the front, called tumors and smokers would be lined up around the block going, “I can’t wait to get my hands on these fucking things! I bet you get a tumor as soon as you light up! Numm Numm Numm Numm Numm” Doesn’t matter how big the warnings are or how much they cost. Keep raising the prices, we’ll break into your houses to get the fucking cigarettes, ok!? There a drug, we’re addicted, ok!? Numm Numm Numm Numm Numm *wheeze*
I’m a little hyped up tonight. Little hyped up. Smoked a nice big fat bag of crack right before the show. “Agghhhh!!” I’m only kidding folks. I would never do crack. I would never do a drug named after a part of my own ass. Ok folks? Kind of a personal guideline in my life. Somebody says, “You want some crack?” I say, “I was born with one, pal! I really don’t need another one. Thank you very much! If I want the second crack, I’ll give you a call, but for right now I’m sticking with the solo crackola, thank you!” God.. crack. Only in America would a guy invent crack. Only in America would there be a guy that cocaine wasn’t good enough for. You know? One guy walking around New York City back in 1985 going, “You know, that cocaine’s pretty good, but I want something that makes my heart explode as soon as I smoke it, ok? I want to take one suck off that crack pipe and go *snort* *splat* Now I’m happy! I’m dead, the ultimate high!”
That’s the problem in this country. People are never satisfied with stuff the way it is. You gotta make it bigger and better and stronger and faster. Same way with pot. For years pot was just joints, and then bongs came out and bongs were ok too, but then bongs weren’t good enough for some people. “Neeehhhhhh!” Remember that friend in high school wanted to make bongs out of everything. Making bongs out of apples and oranges and shit? Come in one day and find your friend going, “Hey! Look man, I made a bong outta my head! Put the pot in this ear and take it outta this one! Good! Take a hit! *snort*” Then they got one of those big giant bongs that you gotta start up like a motorcycle. “Put the pot in!” *motor starting* Kids are driving their bongs down FDR Drive. “Pull the bong over man, I wanna do a hit. Pull it over!”
What was the problem with just smoking a joint, eating a couple of Twinkies, and going to sleep? Was that a problem? They say marijuana leads to other drugs. No it doesn’t, it leads to fucking carpentry. That’s the problem, folks. People getting high going, “Wow man, this box would make an excellent bong! *snort* This guy’s head would make an excellent bong! *snort*” Relax! That’s why I stopped doing drugs in the first place. Not because I didn’t like ‘em, but because I didn’t want to build anything, ok?
I don’t do illegal drugs anymore. Now I just do the legal drugs. Tonight I’m on NyQuil and Sudafed. Let me tell you something, folks. Forget about cocaine and heroine. All you need is NyQuil and Sudafed. I’m telling you right now, I took the NyQuil five years ago. I just came out of the coma tonight before the fucking show! Claus Vanbulo was standing over my bed going, “Denis, get up! There’s something the matter with Sunny! Hurry up!” I love NyQuil. Man, I love it! I love it. I love it. I love it. It’s the best thing shit ever invented. Isn’t it, huh? I love the name alone. NyQuil - Capitol N, small Y, big fucking Q! I love that fucking Q, don’t you!? What a great advertising idea! Put a huge fucking Q on the box. They’ll get high and stare at it. “The Q is talking to me! The Q is talking to me!”
I love NyQuil, man. Because NyQuil has never changed, man. It’s never changed. All the other medicines are doing that inner-child thing. “we know that there’s a small child inside of you, so now we have grape and cherry and orange flavor.” Not NyQuil! They still have the original green death fucking flavor! You know why!? Because it doesn’t matter what it tastes like! It’s so strong you go, “*wheeze* Hey this stuff really tastes like..” Bang! Yer in the coma already! “What happened?” “He said tastes like and he went right into the coma, it was unbelievable!” We have reached the point where the over the counter drugs are actually stronger than anything you can buy on the street. It says on the back of the NyQuil box, on the back of the box it says, “May cause drowsiness.” It should say, “Don’t make any fucking plans! Kiss your family and friends goodbye. Say hello to clouds!” NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you! You giant fucking Q!
NyQuil is the secret for all you twelve step recovery program people. Yes, all you AA people, NyQuil is the key! It’s the thirteenth fucking step! You can drink it! It’s over the counter! Drink as much as you want. “Are you drunk?” “No! I have a cold. Same cold I’ve had for two years. I just can’t seem to shake it. I’m high as a kite and my teeth are green. Merry fucking Christmas!”
Drugs man. Capital D, drugs. I did my share. I did my share, and your share, and his share. I did a lot. I grew up in the seventies. That’s when drugs were drugs, man. We did them all, God dammit! We did every fucking drug there was to be had. We did them all! We did stuff that people don’t even do anymore. Like Ludes. Remember Ludes? “Ludes, man. Fucking Ludes, man! Come on and pull up the Ludes, man! Fucking Ludes!”
I think Ludes explained why we were wearing the giant flair bell bottom pants and the platform pants. What do you think!? I think it’s the only possible explanation! There we were in the middle of a sexual revolution wearing clothing that guaranteed we wouldn’t get laid! Yeah, ok, yeah. People don’t understand, man. Back in the early seventies, you couldn’t buy anything except bell bottoms. There were no straight pants in the fucking stores, ok? The only way you could be a cooler guy, was to get bigger bell bottoms. We used to sit around and get high and go, “Man, when I some money, I’m getting the biggest bell bottoms in history, man! They’re gonna start at my neck and go twenty feet straight out, man! I’m gonna be surrounded by ninety feet of bell bottoms! Homeless people are going to be living under my pants, man! I’ll have platform shoes. I’ll be twenty feet tall.”
We did ‘em all. Man, we even invented a couple of drugs back in the seventies. Yeah. Get this, Wippets. See, some people laugh, and the others need an explanation. Get this, ok? Some kid figured this out back in the seventies, and this kid should have been involved in the space program, ok? Some kid took the time and the imagination to go down to the supermarket and figure out if you take a whip cream can container and you press the nozzle on top, just enough before the whip cream comes out, some gas comes out, you snort the gas *snort*, you get high for five seconds. We didn’t have MTV! We had the fucking supermarket! That’s what we had! We were down there everyday snorting whip cream and hamburger. We didn’t care. Put some on your gums!
We had to. We had to get over that bell bottom hump. We did it all. Cocaine? We started that. You’re welcome! What a great drug that was. Yeah, I’d like to do some cocaine. I’d like to do a drug that makes my penis small, makes my nose bleed, makes my heart explode, and sucks all my money out of the bank. Is that possible please!? I’d like to make this face all night! I’d like to sit in the bathroom and talk to a complete asshole stranger for seven hours on end. Is that possible please!? With no penis and a nose bleed! Where do I sign up!? Take my penis away! That was the worst part about the coke, man, was being in that bathroom with that stranger at the end of the night. Wasn’t it, huh? Talking about shit like solving the world’s problems and the only reason you’re in there is because he has the coke. That should have been a fucking sign, don’t ya think? I mean if Hitler had coke, there’d be Jews in the bathroom going, “I know you didn’t do it. *snort* I like your mustache. *snort* Fucking Himmler. *snort*”
Ok. Yeah. Mmm. We used to do eight balls. Oh those were fun, weren’t they? Nothing like getting a bunch of coke! Right? That was usually, like, eight balls were usually like four guys on a Friday night. One guy at 8-o’clock goes, “Hey man. Let’s get an eight ball! It’ll last us all weekend!” Four hours later the same four guys, “Let’s get another eight ball! *frantically* Let’s get another one! Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!”
”Rehab”
We did it all. We did whatever we could get our hands on back in the seventies. We did fucking handfuls of mushrooms, pills, Ludes, coke. Whatever it was, we just fucking swallowed it, ok? That’s what we did! People go, “Well why didn’t you go into rehab?” We didn’t have rehab back in the seventies. Back in the seventies rehab meant you’d stop doing coke, but you kept smoking pot and drinking for a couple more weeks. You know? “Yeah, give me a case of Budweiser and an ounce. I gotta slow down! Jesus Christ! I’m outta control. Look at the size of my pants for Christ’s sake!”
Because that’s the big thing now. Rehab is the big fucking secret now. Isn’t it, huh? Yeah, you can do whatever you want. Just go into rehab and solve your problems. Isn’t that the big celebrity thing? That’s what I’m gonna do. Yeah, I’m gonna get famous. Then when my career starts to flag, I’m gonna go into three months fucking bender. Ok? Coke, and fucking pot, and smack, and fucking booze, and drive over people, and beat up my kids, go into therapy, go into rehab, come outta rehab, be on the cover of people magazine, “Sorry! I fucked up!” That’s what they do, man. They go into rehab and they come out and they blame everybody except themselves. They blame their parents, right? That’s the way. Everybody comes from a dysfunctional family all of the sudden, huh? Rosanne Barr comes from a dysfunctional family? Not Rosanne! She seems so normal to me! The Jacksons were dysfunctional!? Not the Jacksons! These people give each other new heads for Christmas for Christ’s sake!
I am sick and tired of hearing that fucking speech. You know? These people come out of rehab they always have the same story. “Well you know, I became an alcoholic because my parents didn’t love me enough. And then I became a junkie because my parents didn’t love me enough. And I went into hypnosis and therapy and I found out that parents used to hit me.” Hey! My parents used to beat the living shit out of me! Ok? And looking back on it, I’m glad they did! And I’m looking forward to beating the shit out of my kids, aren’t you? For no reason whatsoever. *thbbt* “What’d you hit me for?” “Shutup and get out there and mow the lawn for Christs sake!” There’s therapy for ya! Mowing the lawn and crying at the same time. “The Leary kids in therapy again. Their lawn looks great, it’s unbelieveable!”
God.. “I’m just not happy. I’m just not happy. I’m just not happy because my life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.” Hey! Join the fucking club, ok!? I thought I was going to be the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Socks. Life sucks, get a fucking helmet, allright?! “I’m not happy. I’m not happy.” Nobody’s happy, ok!? Happiness comes in small doses folks. It’s a cigarette, or a chocolate cookie, or a five second orgasm. That’s it, ok! You cum, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and go to fucking work, ok!? That is it! End of fucking list! “I’m just not happy.” Shut the fuck up, allright? That’s the name of my new book, “Shut the Fuck Up, by Doctor Denis Leary. A revolutionary new form of therapy.” I’m gonna have my patients come in. “Doctor, I..” “Shut the fuck up, next!” “I don’t feel so..” “Shut the fuck up, next!” “He made me feel so much better about myself, you know? He just told me to shut the fuck up and nobody had ever told me that before. I feel so much better now.” Whining fucking maggots.
And all these people quitting. I think it’s a good thing, AA. And the recovery and rehab, because I’ve got some friends who’d be dead without those programs, but you know something. Now we’ve got a new problem. Because now they quit drinking and drugs, they’re completely stressed out, and they decide to work out, which is fine. I’m not a workout guy, but I understood Nautilus. It made sense. There were arm machines and leg machines. But have you seen these people who are using the stair-master? Huh? Have we turned into gerbils ladies and gentlemen? People are paying money to go into a health club and walk up invisible steps over and over again for an hour and a half. “Where are you going?” “I’m going up! And I paid for it too! I can stay here as long as I want!” Folks, you wanna go up and down stairs, move into a fifth floor walk up on the lower east side. Ok? What’s next? A fucking chair master!? “I sit down. I get up. I sit down. I get up. I sit down. I get up.” The door master. “I open the door. I close...” What the fuck?
”More Drugs”
And I’ll tell you something else right now. I have the solution to the drug problem in this country. Nobody wants to hear it, but I have it. Not less drugs, more drugs. Get more drugs, and give ‘em the right fucking people. Mmm mm, cuz every time you hear about some famous guy overdosing on drugs, it’s always some really talented guy. It’s always like Len Bias, or Janis Joplin, or Jimi Hendrix, or John Belushi. You know what I mean!? The people you wanna have overdose on drugs never would! Like Motley Crue would never fucking overdose man, never! You could put them in a room with two tons of crack. They come out a half an hour later, “Rock on man!” “Shit, they’re still alive. Fuck! They’re probly gonna make another double-live album now, God dammit!”
I take music pretty seriously. You see that scar on my wrist? You see that? You know where that’s from? I heard the Beegees were getting back together again. I couldn’t take it, okay! That was the only good thing about the 1980’s. We got rid of one of the Beegees. One down, three to go. That’s what I say, folks. Yeah! Here’s ten bucks! Bring me the head of Barry Mantilow, alright? I wanna drink beer out of his empty head! I wanna have a Barry Mantilow skull keg party at my apartment, ok?! You write the songs, we’ll drink the beer out of your head.
We live in a country, where John Lennon takes six bullets in the chest, Yoko Ono was standing right next to him and not one fucking bullet! Explain that to me! Explain that to me, God! Explain it to me, God! I want it! God! Jesus! Now we’ve got twenty-five more years. Yeah, I’m real fucking happy now, God. I’m wearing a huge happy hat, Jesus Christ! I mean Stevie Ray Vaughan is dead, and we can’t get Jon Bon Jovi in a helicopter. Come on, folks. “Get on that helicopter John. Shut the fuck up and get on that helicopter! There’s a hair dresser in there. Yeah, go ahead in there, yeah yeah.”
I don’t get it. You know, I just don’t get it. I missed the fucking point some place. The boat left and I wasn’t on the boat. Explain it to me. Heavy Metal bands on trial because kids commit suicide? What’s that about? Judas Priest on trial because “my kid bought the record, and listened to the lyrics, .....” Well that’s great! That sets a legal precedent. Does that mean I can sue Dan Folgerburg for making me into a pussy in the mid-70’s. Is that possible, huh? Huh?! “Your honor, between him and James Taylor, I didn’t get a blow job ‘till I was 27 years old. I was in Colorado wearing hiking boots eating granola. I want some fucking money right now!”
Let me make sure I’m crystal clear on this issue, ok? Heavy Metal fans are buying Heavy Metal records, taking the records home, listening to the records and then blowing their heads off with shotguns? Where’s the problem!? That’s an unemployment solution right there, folks! It’s called natural selection. It’s the bottom of the food chain, ok? I say we put more messages on the records. “Kill the band, kill your parents, then yourself, ok!? Make sure you get your whole head in front of the shotgun. Thank you for calling! Thank you for calling!”
I’ll tell you something else I don’t get, ok? This whole thing, these bands going backwards, you know what I’m talking about? This whole nostalgia for the late 60’s, early 70’s that’s happening right now. The Black Crowes wearing bell bottoms again? I don’t fucking think so, ok! I wore them once, they sucked, I didn’t get laid, I’m not wearing them again! Let me tell you something. We need a two and a half hour movie about the Doors? Folks, no we don’t. I can sum it up for you in five seconds, ok. “I’m drunk. I’m nobody. I’m drunk. I’m famous. I’m drunk. I’m fucking dead.” There’s the whole movie, ok!? Big fat dead guy in a bath tub, there’s your title for you.
And I also don’t go for this other thing now, with MTV being so big where you get a band that gets a hit video, and all of the sudden they think that they’re like icons and they can tell us how to feel about environmental issues and how to vote and stuff. You know what I’m talking about? Like R.E.M. “Shiny Happy People” “Hey Hey Hey Hey Hey! Pull that bus over to the side of the pretentiousness turnpike, alright!? I want everybody off the bus. I want the shiny people over here, and the happy people over here, ok! I represent angry gun-toting meat-eating fucking people, alright!” Sit down and shut the fuck up Michael! Don Henley’s gonna tell me how to vote. I don’t fucking think so, ok? I got two words for Don Henley, Joe Fucking Walsh, ok!? Thanks for calling, Don! How long’s your pony tail now? Ok!
All these rock stars should’ve been killed, man. Every single God damned one of them. Right after John Lennon died, we should’ve gotten the Partridge Family bus and driven around and killed them all one by one, you know? Elvis Presley should have been shot in the head back in 1957. Somebody should’ve walked up behind Elvis in ‘57 with a 44 magnum, put the barrel of the gun right up to his brain stem and just pulled the trigger, so you can remember Elvis in a nice way. Wouldn’t it be nice to remember Elvis thin, with a big head of hair? Maybe that gold lame gold lame gold lame suit. Wouldn’t that be nice? Because how do you remember Elvis? You know how you remember Elvis. He was found in the toilet with his pants around his ankles and his big fat hairy sweaty king of rock and roll ass exposed to the world and his final piece of kingly evidence floating in the toilet behind him! Creepy! One of his aids had to walk in and go, “Damn, Elvis is dead. I’d better flush the toilet. Oh man I should’ve saved that! I coulda made some money off of that! Damn man! A ding dang do!”
That’s why I’m glad Jesus died when he did. Oh yeah. Because if he lived to be 40, he woulda ended up like Elvis, come on! Oh yeah, he had that big enterauge. Twelve guys willing to do whatever he wanted to do. He was famous already at that point. If he lived to be 40, he’d be walking around Jerusalem with a big fat beer gut and black side burns going, “Damn, I’m the son of God. Give me a cheese burger and french fries right now. Where’s Mary Magdeline, I want a blow job now. Come on now! Fuck you, or I’ll turn you into a leper. Give me a cheese burger now, God dammit. Love me tender, love me true, empty my colostamy bag! Oh I think I shit my pants on that last... Change my diaper now!”
I’m going to hell for that bit. And you’re all coming with me! And don’t try to get out of it, “We didn’t laugh at that bit, Jesus, please!” “Shut up! Get on the bus with Leary and Scorsese. You’re going right to fucking hell!” And you know what hell is folks. It’s Andy Gibb, singing Shadow Dancing for eons and eons. And you have to wear orange plaid bell bottoms and sit next to the Bay City Rollers. “How you guys doing? This is gonna suck!”
I was reading an interview with Keith Richards in a magazine and in the interview Keith Richards intimated that kids should not do drugs. Keith Richards! Says that kids should not do drugs! Keith, we can’t do any more drugs because you already fucking did them all, alright! There’s none left! We have to wait ‘till you die and smoke your ashes! Jesus Christ! Talk about the pot and the fuckin’ kettle.
”Smoke”
I love to smoke. I smoke seven thousand packs a day, ok. And I am never fucking quitting! I don’t care how many laws they make. What’s the law now? You can only smoke in your apartment, under a blanket, with all the lights out? Is that the rule now, huh?! The cops are outside, “We know you have the cigarettes. Come out of the house with the cigarettes above your head.” “You’ll never get me copper! I’m never coming out, you hear? I got a cigarette machine right here in my bedroom. Yeah!”
Know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get one of those tracheotomies. So I can smoke two cigarettes at the same time. I’m gonna get nine tracheotomies all the way around my neck. I’ll be Tracheotomie Man! “He can smoke a pack at a time! He’s Tracheotomie Man!”
I’m looking forward to cancer, man. I want that throat cancer. That’s the best kind. You know why? You get that throat cancer, you get that voice box thing. Know what I’m talking about? ..[Talking as if has a voice box].. Sure it’s scary, but you can make a lot of money with a voice box. Get a voice box, walking around the streets of Manhattan, “[VB] You got any spare change?” “Ahhh!! Here’s my whole wallet, get away from me! Ahh!”
Imagine a whole family with voice boxes. That’d be creepy, wouldn’t it? They’d be out in that backyard everyday during the summer. “[VB] Dad, can we go to the beach?” “[VB] Yes, get your mother and the dog. We’ll leave right now. Sparky, come here.” “[VB] Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf Arf” Ahhhh!!
Or the ultimate irony. A guy with a voice box pulling up to the drive through window at McDonald’s. That has to suck, huh? “Can I help you?” “[VB] Big Mac and a large order of fries.” “Stop making fun of me.” “[VB] I’m not making fun of you.” “I’m getting the manager.” “[VB] Get the fucking manager, I don’t care.”
I can remember a time in this country when men were proud to get cancer, God dammit! When it was a sign of manhood! John Wayne had cancer twice. Second time, they took out one of his lungs. He said, “Take ‘em both! Cuz I don’t fuckin’ need ‘em! I’ll grow gills and breathe like a fish!”
Babe Ruth, greatest baseball player to ever play the game. He had a voice box. He was the first American to have a voice box. Yeah! “[VB] This is Babe Ruth, the Sultan of Swat, the Bambino, I smoke twenty-five God damn cuban cigars a day. I had meat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I fucked eighteen prostitutes a night! ‘course, I’m dead now. I’m up here in heaven. Lou Gehrig is up here with me. God love Lou Gehrig. Jesus Christ, poor Lou Gehrig. Died of Lou Gehrig’s disease. How the hell did he not see that coming? You know. We used to tell him, Lou, there’s a disease with your name all over it, pal! There ain’t no Babe Ruth disease, I’ll tell you that much right now. Have a hot dog and a Hummer. Go ahead, it’s on me.”
I don’t know. Personally, I think Billy Martin said it best when he said, “Hey! I can drive!” Because we tried to be nice to you non-smokers. We fucking tried. Okay? You wanted your own sections in the restaurants. We gave you that, huh. But that wasn’t enough for you. Then you wanted the airplanes. We gave you the whole God damn plane! You happy now? You own the fucking plane! I’d like an explanation about that one folks because I will guarantee you if the plane is going down, the first announcement you’re gonna hear is, “Folks, this is your Captain speaking. Look, uhm, light ‘em up, ‘cause we’re going down, okay. I got a carton of Camels non-filters, I’ll see you on the ground. Take it easy.” Actually, it’d be more like this, “[VB] This is your Captain speaking. Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em. Rrrr Rrrr”
The filters the best part. That’s where they put the heroine. Only us real good smokers know that fucking secret. Yeah, we tried to be nice to you non-smokers. We tried. But you just fucking badger us, you know? You won’t leave us alone! You got all your little speeches you’re always giving to us. All these little facts that you dig out of a newspaper or pamphlet and you store that little nugget in your little fucking head, and we light up and you spew ‘em out at us, don’t ya? I love these little facts. “Well you know. Smoking takes ten years off your life.” Well it’s the ten worst years, isn’t it folks? It’s the ones at the end! It’s the wheelchair kidney dialysis fucking years. You can have those years! We don’t want ‘em, alright!? And I guarantee if I’m still alive, I’ll be smoking then. I’ll be in my wheelchair, with my adult diapers on and my twenty-five year old non- smoking born again christian son behind me. I’ll be going, “Hey! Make sure you wipe this time. I was itching all week for Christ’s sake! And get me some more wippets. I’m almost out, you fucking pussy! Come on!”
Because you’re always telling us, “You know, every cigarette takes six minutes off your life. If you quit now you can live an extra ten years. If you quit now, you can live an extra twenty years.” Hey, I got two words for you, ok. Jim Fix. Remember Jim Fix? The big famous jogging guy? Jogged fifteen miles a day. Did a jogging book. Did a jogging video. Dropped out of a heart attack when? When he was fucking jogging, that’s when! What do you wanna bet it was two smokers who found the body the next morning and went, “Hey! That’s Jim Fix, isn’t it?” “Wow, what a fucking tragedy. Come on, lets go buy some buds.”
It’s always the yogurt sprout eating mother fuckers who get run over buy a bus drive by a guy who smokes three and a half packs a day. “Sorry officer, I didn’t see him. I was too busy smoking!”
”Meat”
I love to smoke. I love to smoke and I love to eat red meat. I love to eat raw fucking red meat. Nothing I like better than sucking down a hot steaming cheese burger and a butt at the same time. I love to smoke. I love to eat red meat. I’ll only eat red meat that comes from cows who smoke, ok!? Special cows they grow in Virginia with voice boxes in their necks. “[VB] Moo”
I tried eating vegetarian. I feel like a wimp going into a restaurant. “What do you want to eat sir? Brocolli?” Brocolli’s a side dish, folks. Always was, always will be, ok? When they ask me what I want, I say, “What do you think I want!? This is America. I want a bowl of raw red meat right now. Forget about that. Bring me a live cow over to the table. I’ll carve off what I want and ride the rest home! [Making riding noises]”
I gonna open up my own place. Open my own restaurant and get away from you people. I gonna open up a restaurant with two smoking sections; Ultra and Regular, ok? And we’re not gonna have any tables or any chairs or any napkins. None of that pussy shit. Just a big wide open black space. And all we’re gonna serve is raw meat, right on the bone! And only men are going to eat there, naked men, sitting around a big giant camp fire, and no men’s room either. You have to piss, you mark your territory like a wolf! And if some guy has a heart attack from eating too much meat, fuck him, we throw him in the fire! More meat for the other meat-eaters! Yeah!
Because you gotta have goals. Because everybody in this room knows everybody who’s quitting. You all have that friend who’s quitting it. You know what I mean? The guys quitting it, “I quit smoking. I quit drugs. I quit drinking. I quit meat, and I feel great. I get up in the morning and have a nice big bowl of oat bran. I go to the bathroom for three and a half hours. I have another bowl of oat bran. I go back in the bathroom for six more hours. All I do is eat and shit, I’m gonna live forever! My colon is the strongest muscle in my body right now. I could pass Elvis through my colon right now.”
And all these cereals they have, Cracklin’ Oat Bran, and Horkin’ Fiber Chunks, you know? Cereal used to come with a free prize. Now it comes with a free roll of toilet paper in every box. Guys get up on Sunday morning, “Forget about the New York Times, I’m gonna need the Bible. I got a big one brewing here.” “Dad, there’s a phone call!” “I’m on Genesis, God dammit! You tell ‘em to call back after the creation!” People checking their own feces for fiber. You have too much free fucking time on your hands, ok.
Red meat, white meat, blue meat, meat-o-fucking-rama. You will eat it. Because not eating meat is a decision. Eating meat is an instinct! Yeah! And I know what it’s about. “I don’t want to eat the meat because I love the animals. I love the animals.” Hey, I love the animals too. I love my doggy. He’s so cute. My fluffy little dog.. He’s so cute- There’s the problem. We only want to save the cute animals, don’t we? Yeah. Why don’t we just have animal auditions. Line ‘em up one by one and interview them individually. “What are you?” “I’m an otter.” “And what do you do?” “I swim around on my back and do cute little human things with my hands.” “You’re free to go.” “And what are you?” “I’m a cow.” “Get in the fucking truck, ok pal!” “But I’m an animal.” “You’re a baseball glove! Get on that truck!” “I’m an animal, I have rights!” “Yeah, here’s yer fucking cousin, get on the fucking truck, pal!” We kill the cows to make jackets out of them and then we kill each other for the jackets we made out of the cows.
You will eat the meat folks, because this country was founded on two things. Meat, and war. You eat enough fucking meat, you wanna kill somebody. That’s the way it works. That was the ultimate American dream. During that Persian Gulf War, I was sitting in my living room, naked, with a can of Budweiser and a three inch stake watching the war, live, on TV. I had a six foot erection with a giant cheese burger on the end of it. I ate so much meat during the war that by the time the war was over three weeks later, I was like, “No no no. We need to keep fighting. Make a couple of stops on our way home from the Persian Gulf. First stop! Vietnam! Surprise the fuck out of those people, huh?” “You make a movie?” “Not this time, pal!”
Personally, I think Mama Cass said it best when she said, “[Choking noises]” “All the leaves are [Choking noises]” “Monday [Choking noises]”
”Death”
I’m sick and tired of my generation getting blamed for the state of the planet. I’m sick of my generation getting called the TV generation. “Well all you guys do is watch TV.” What did you expect!? We watched Lee Harvey Oswald get shot live on TV one Sunday morning, we were afraid to change the fucking channel for the next thirty years. “This show sucks.” “Yeah, but somebody might get shot during the commercial. Now hang on!”
That’s what’s wrong with this country. We always shoot the wrong guys. We shoot JFK, we shoot RFK, and it comes to Teddy, we go, “Ahh, leave him alone. He’ll fuck it up himself, no problem. You know?” Biggest target in the whole God damn Kennedy family. He weighs about seven thousand pounds. You could shoot a bullet in Los Angeles and hit him in the ass in Boston five minutes later. He’d be standing on the lawn at the Kennedy compound going, “Ah Ah Ah Ah There’s a bullet in my ass. Ah Ah ah ah”
Ted Kennedy. Good senator, but a bad date. You know what I’m saying, folks? One of those guys who gets home at four o’clock in the morning and goes, “What did I forget? Oh! The fucking girl! What’s the matter with me? Jesus, where are my pants!? Holy shit!”
Because I’ll tell you folks. We got a real problem with guns in this country. We have people snapping almost twice, three, four, five times a year. Right? People just snap. They can’t take it anymore. They just snap, they go into McDonalds and kill fifteen people. I mean what the fuck is going on down at the post office? Every six months some guy gets fired, comes back and kills all his co-workers. If I worked at the post office as a supervisor, I wouldn’t lay anybody off for the next twenty-five fucking years. I’d just walk around going, “Hanrahan, what’re you doing?” “Nothing.” “Well, keep it up, you’re doing a great job! Jesus. I’ll tell ya.”
And I am sick and tired for New York City taking the blame for the crime problem. You know, whenever you read a fact chart, it always says Detroit leads the world in rape and murder and everything else, but New York takes the blame. “New York’s a cess pool. It’s a cess pool of filth and crime. We’re moving.”
Hey! I just moved here four years ago, and I’m not leaving, because this is the most exciting place in the world to live. Oh yeah! Yeah! There are so many ways to die in New York City, come on! Race riots, drive by shootings, subway crashes, construction cranes collapsing on the sidewalks, manhole covers blowing up, asbestos shooting into the sky.
We had a subway crash here a couple of years ago. Five people died. The next day they found the driver was drunk and hooked on crack. Folks, this makes Disneyland look like a fucking bike ride, doesn’t it? “Your drive today is Edward. He’s drunk and hooked on crack. The man sitting next to you has a loaded nine-millimeter. Good luck, folks!” “Honey, get the camera! This is gonna be fucking great!”
Yeah, I love living in New York, man, and people who live in New York, we wear that fact like a badge right on our sleeve because we know that fact impresses everybody! “I was in Vietnam.” “So what? I live in New York!” “Really?”
Yeah, because new york teaches you to live life the way it should be lived. Moment to moment. Yes, because every moment in New York could be your last. Oh yeah, yeah. You could be walking down the street tomorrow, feeling good about yourself, drink free, drug free, looking forward to the future and somebody accidently nudges their poodle off of a 75th floor ledge. Doink! And he’s headed for the ground at a hundred and seventy five thousand miles per hour. And curchunk he’s impeded in your head! You’re dead on contact. The headline in the Post the next day reads, “Man killed by best friend.” People cut the article out and they laugh about it at the office and you’re forever remembered as the poodle man! “I knew the poodle man and he hated fucking poodles.”
New York teaches you to live life moment to moment and street by street and beat to beat. Because we’ve all played that street game in New York, haven’t we? Yes we have. Good block. Bad block. Ooooh. Good block. Bad block. OoooOoooh. Gun block. Crack block. OoooOoooh. Asbestos block. Poodle block! Poodle block!
Because most people think, “Life sucks, and then you die.” I disagree. I think life sucks, then you get cancer. Then you go into chemotherapy. You lose all your hair, you feel bad about yourself. Then all of the sudden the cancer goes into remission. You look good you feel good, you’re going great, and all of the sudden you have a stroke. You can’t move your right side. And one day you step off the curb at 68th by Lincoln Center and bang, you get hit by a bus. And then, maybe, you die.
Because I think Jim Hensen said it best when he said, “Anybody got any aspirin? I think I got a cold.” And a chill filled the room. We all have this incredible attachment to the Muppets, don’t we? “We love the muppets! They’re so cute!” Did you hear about Jim Hensen’s funeral? Here in New York City, huh? Kermit the frog and Big Bird sang “It’s not easy being green” at Jim Hensen’s funeral. If I’m fifty-six years old when I kick the bucket and a fucking sock is singing at my funeral, I’m gonna pop out of the coffin and go, “Hey! What the hell is this about? Sammy Davis Jr. gets Frank Sinatra, and I get a fucking sock!? I’m really pissed off now!”
