GEORGE CARLIN: DOIN’ IT AGAIN (1990) – Transcript

2017-06-29T14:04:49-07:00 June 27th, 2017|Categories: COMEDY, GEORGE CARLIN|Tags: |
  • George Carlin

Recorded on January 12–13, 1990, State Theatre, New Brunswick, New Jersey

So you want to talk about it? Oh yeah. It all started in 1977. I mean, that’s when I started doing it regularly. How many times have you done it? Six times. I’ve done it six times. Why do you do it? I don’t know. It’s like I can’t help myself. What does your family think? Thank God my family doesn’t know. But how’d you get caught? They were taping me. Taping you? Yeah. Every time I did it, they had a tape running. Jumbo shrimp, those words don’t even go together, man. That’s like military intelligence, they have that, too. How did they do that? That’s what they tell you, get on the plane, get on the plane. Fuck you, I’m getting in the plane.
I wonder a lot of things, but that’s my job. My job is thinking up goofy shit. Al Sleet here, your hippie dippie weather man with all the hippie dippie weather, man. Got into an argument with my Rice Krispies. I distinctly heard Snap, Crackle, fuck him. Have a nice day. And the original list was shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, mother fucker and tits. This was all I could think of in one sitting. That’s all your house is, is a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff. But here’s a little cheer, a lot of people like it, it goes like this, rat shit, bat shit, dirty old twat. 69 assholes tied in a knot. Hurrah, lizard shit. Fuck. I never fucked a 10, but one night I fucked five 2s.
Does it strike you as mildly ironic that most of the people who are against abortion are people you wouldn’t want to fuck in the first place? And now they’re thinking about banning toy guns, and they’re going to keep the fucking real ones. Thank you, thank you very much. Welcome to our show.
Don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange that Ronald Reagan had an operation on his asshole and George Bush had an operation on his middle finger, huh? Huh? What are these two men trying to tell us?
Now I’d like to begin tonight with an opening announcement. Because of the FCC, I’m never sure what it is I’m allowed to say, So. So I now have my own official policy. This is the language you will not be hearing tonight. You will not hear me say, bottom line, game plan, role model, scenario, or hopefully. I will not kick back, mellow out, or be on a roll. I will not go for it, and I will not check it out. I don’t even know what it is. And when I leave here, I definitely will not boogie. I promise not to refer to anyone as a class act, a beautiful person, or a happy camper. I will also not be saying, what a guy. And you will not hear me refer to anyone’s lifestyle. If you want to know what a moronic word “lifestyle” is, all you have to do is realize that in a technical sense, Attila the Hun had an active, outdoor lifestyle. I will also not be saying any cute things, like moi, and I will not use the French adverb très to modify any English adjectives, such as très awesome, très narly, très fabut, très intense, or très out of sight. I will not say concept when I mean idea. I will not say impacted when I mean effected. There will be no hands on state of the art networking. We will not maximize, prioritize or finalize, and we definitely will not interface. There will also… There will also be no new age lingo spoken here tonight, no support group jargon from the human potential movement. For instance, I will not share anything with you. I will not relate to you, and you will not identify with me. I will give you no input, and I will expect no feedback. This will not be a learning experience, nor will it be a growth period. There’ll be no sharing, no caring, no birthing, no bonding, no parenting, no nurturing. We will not establish a relationship, we will not have any meaningful dialogue, and we definitely will not spend any quality time. We will not be supportive of one another so that we can get in touch with our feelings in order to feel good about ourselves. And if you’re one of those people who needs a little space, please, go the fuck outside! We will, we will, however, be talking about those little moments that seem to last forever. Have you ever been in a serious social situation when you suddenly realize you have to pull the underwear out of the crack in your ass? Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife? Huh? Who, her? Oh, hell yeah. Well, it’s one of life’s little moments, isn’t it? It’s one of those little moments you have to deal with at the time. You can’t postpone that. You can’t put that off and be walking around like this. You’ve got to get in there and clear that thing out. You’ve got to rescue your underwear. There’s a letter in your mailbox. That’s right. And you have to rectify that situation so that you can move along to your next embarrassing moment, which is probably scheduled immediately. That’s the way life is, full of those little moments. Everybody knows them, everybody recognizes them. You ever been at a really loud party, I mean, a good loud party where the music is playing too loud and everybody is talking too loudly, and in order to be heard even by the person standing right next to you, you’ve got to be screaming at the top of your lungs. But every now and then at a party, it seems as though everyone shuts up at the same time. And only your voice, can be heard. Right, I know. I know. Well, what I’m going to do, I’m going to have my testicles laminated. Life’s little moments. You ever been talking to someone and you laugh through your nose and blow a snot on your shirt. And you have to just kind of keep talking, you know, and make believe it’s part of the design. Works all right if you’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but otherwise they’re going to notice. Ed, you got a big snot on your shirt. Some guys are really cruel, you know. And some of these things are not even your fault. These little things that happen, you didn’t cause the situation, a lot of time you’re the victim. You walk into some situation, and suddenly you’re the one who’s taking all the heat. Not your fault. Give you an example of the kind of thing I mean. Did you ever meet somebody and you go to shake the guy’s hand and you suddenly realize he doesn’t have a complete hand? And you got to make believe it feels great, Right, you can’t go ahhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhh! Ahhhhh! You can’t do that. It’s not even an option. You got to hang in there and say hi, hey, swell hand. Give me three. Hi 3, yo! Not your fault. You didn’t cause that. You weren’t even there when it happened to the guy.

You were probably out walking your dog, which is what I’m usually doing, walking my dog. Because I love my dog. I love all my dogs. I love every dog I ever had. I remember them all, and I love every one of them, still love all my dogs. And I’ve had me a lot of God damn dogs. In my lifetime I have had me a bunch of different dogs. Because you do keep getting a new dog, don’t you? You just keep getting one dog after another. That’s the whole secret of life. Life is a series of dogs. It’s true, you just keep getting a new dog, don’t you? That’s what’s good about them, they don’t live too long. And you can go get a new God damn dog. Sometimes you can get a dog looks exactly like the dog you used to have, right? You shop around a little bit, you can find a dog identical to your former dog. And that’s real handy because you don’t have to change the pictures on your mirror or anything, right? You just bring the dead one into the pet shop, throw him up on the counter, say give me another one of them. That was real good. And they’ll give you a carbon copy of your ex-God damn dog. Now, my favorite dog that I ever had in my whole lifetime was Tippie. Tippie was a good dog. Some of you remember, I’ve talked about Tippie. Tippie was a good dog. Tippie was a mixed terrier. You know that word mixed that the veterinarian puts on the form when even he don’t know what the fuck you got. You bring in a little mixed puppy to a veterinarian and say, what is it? He’ll say, well, it’s definitely not a monkey. Tippie was actually part Dodge Dart. Poor Tippie was full of guilt, so much so in fact she’s the only dog I ever had who committed suicide. Yeah, well, we don’t say it like that around the house. We say she put herself to sleep. But she ran out in front of a milk truck. That’s fucking suicide. But that was her decision. That’s what Tippie wanted to do. And that’s the way it is in our family, if you want to commit suicide, we back you up. So we supported Tippie in her little suicide decision, then we brought her into the pet shop, threw her up on the counter, and said, give us something bigger. We’re trading up. We was looking for a bigger God damn dog. Because Tippie had been teenie, even before the truck came by. The truck had made her teenier, wider, but teenier. And we was looking for a bigger God damn dog. Not too big, you know, I don’t like a dog who’s bigger than I am. It’s bad enough looking for shit in one direction without having to duck flying turds as well. A good rule of thumb is keep the dog’s asshole below eye level. So we compromised, and we got us a mid-sized dog, knee high, just about like this size here, best size you can own, by the way. Most people know, this is the ideal size dog to have. You know why, anybody comes to visit you, the first thing that dog does is take his nose and put it right in their crotch. Oohh, oohh, he smells my dog. No, Marge, I don’t believe that’s the animal he has in mind. And people get embarrassed by that, especially the owner of the dog. The owner’s the one who’s saying stop that, stop that, will you stop that now, stop it. I’m awfully sorry about this. Not me, I say, get in there and get some of that. Get in there and sniff that thing out, go on. Listen, would you mind spreading your legs a little bit so he can get right in there? Yeah, stand like this for a little while, would you? Okay, looking good now. So how’s your mom and dad doing, anyway? Well, God bless them, it’s a wonderful couple. Go around the back, check it out in the back. Sniff that other thing in the back there. What’s that? Well, there’s two different smells he likes, what can I tell you. Don’t pay him no attention, he’ll be finished in just about half an hour. So listen, Reverend, it’s real nice of you to come and call on us like this. Every one of us is always glad to see you around here, especially that God damn dog. Those dogs are great, they’ll break the ice when a new neighbor comes to call. Hi, we’re the Johnsons. What’s his name? Ball Sniffer. He’s a crotch hound. Let me know if you want to get circumcised, he’s on duty till 5:00 o’clock. Dogs are a constant source of entertainment. Did you ever have a dog that ate cat turds? Some of them do, some of you must know that? Did you ever have a dog eat cat turds? Yeah. Of course you got to have a cat, you know. You can’t be buying cat turds at the supermarket. But it’s true, some dogs will eat cat turds, yeah. Don’t let them lick you that day. Get a bottle of Listerine for him. Try to make him gargle. Pour it down his throat and tell him to howl. Come on, howl, howl, God damn it. Stomp on his tail. Howl, I said, God damn it, howl. Oh, dogs are a lot of fun. Did you ever have a dog that ate a bunch of colored balloons and then he takes a shit and it’s real decorative like? Or sometimes at Christmas they’ll eat some tinsel and take a shiny shit. Wow, look, mom, can we hang it on the tree? Well, it is considered good luck in some cultures. Here’s a little household hint for you. This will help you clean up after your dogs. Feed your dog a lot of rubber bands. Put a lot of rubber bands in with his regular food, then when he takes a shit, there’s usually a little loop in the end of it. You just pick it up by the loop, do you know what I mean? Throw it in the neighbor’s yard. Yeah. That’s why I travel around, give these little household hints. Bet you never read that one in Heloise, huh?

Yeah, about time for me to get a little drink of water. Figure this stuff is safe to drink. Huh? Actually, I don’t care if it’s safe or not, I drink it anyway. You know why? Because I’m an American, and I expect a little cancer in my food and water. That’s right. I’m a loyal American, and I’m not happy unless I’ve let government and industry poison me a little bit every day. Let me have a few hundred thousand carcinogens here. Ah. A little cancer never hurt anybody. Everybody needs a little cancer, I think. It’s good for you, keeps you on your toes. Besides, I ain’t afraid of cancer, I had broccoli for lunch. Broccoli kills cancer. A lot of people don’t know that, it’s not out yet. It’s true, you find out you got some cancer, get yourself a fucking bowl of broccoli, that’ll wipe it right out in a day or two. Cauliflower, too. Cauliflower kills the really big cancers, the ones you can see through clothing from across the street. Broccoli kills the little ones, the ones that are slowly eating you away from inside, while your God damn goofy half-educated doctor keeps telling you, you’re doing fine, Jim. In fact, bring your doctor a bowel of broccoli, he’s probably got cancer, too, probably picked it up from you. They don’t know what they’re doing, it’s all guesswork in a white coat. Here, let me have a few more sips of industrial waste. Ah, maybe, maybe I can turn them cancers against one another. That’s what you got to hope for, you know, that you get more than one cancer so they eat each other up instead of you. In fact, the way I look at it, the most cancer you got, the healthier you are. Well, I know, some people don’t like you to talk about those things, I know that. Some people don’t like you to mention certain things. Some people don’t want you to say this, some people don’t want you to say that. Some people think if you mention some things they might happen.

Some people are really fucking stupid. Did you ever notice that, how many really stupid people you run into during the day? God damn, there’s a lot of stupid bastards walking around. Carry a little pad and pencil with you, you wind up with 30 or 40 names by the end of the day. Look at it this way. Think of how stupid the average person is, and then realize half of them are stupider than that. And it doesn’t take you very long to spot one of them, does it. Take you about eight seconds. You’ll be listening to some guy, and say, this guy is fucking stupid. Then, then there are some people, they’re not stupid. They’re full of shit. Huh, that doesn’t take very long to spot, either, does it. Take you about the same amount of time. You’ll be listening to some guy, saying, well, he’s fairly intelligent. Ah, he’s full of shit. Then there are some people, they’re not stupid, they’re not full of shit, they’re fucking nuts. Dan Quayle is all three, all three, stupid, full of shit, and fucking nuts. And where did he get that wife of his? Have you taken a good look at that Marilyn Quayle? Where did he get her, at a Halloween party or something? She looks like Prince Charles, for Christ’s sake. Let me ask you something, does he actually have to fuck that woman? Huh? God help him, I wouldn’t fuck her with a stolen dick.

That’s my political humor. People like it when you’re topical. Oh, some people don’t like you to talk like that. Oh, some people would like to shut you up for saying those things. You know that, lots of people, lots of groups in this country want to tell you how to talk, tell you what you can’t talk about. Sometimes they’ll say, well, you can talk about something, but you can’t joke about it. Say you can’t joke about it because it’s not funny. Comedians run into that shit all the time, like rape. They’ll say, you can’t joke about rape. Rape’s not funny. I say, fuck you, I think it’s hilarious, how do you like that? I can prove to you that rape is funny. Picture Porky Pig raping Elmer Fudd. See? Hey, why do you think they call him Porky, huh? I know what you’re going to say, Elmer was asking for it. Elmer was coming on to Porky. Porky couldn’t help himself, he got a hard-on, he got horny, he lost control, he went out of his mind. Lot of men talk like that, lot of men think that way. They think it’s the woman’s fault. They like to blame the rape on the woman, say, hey, she had it coming, she was wearing a short skirt. These guys think women ought to go to prison for being cock teasers. Don’t seem fair to me, don’t seem right, but you can joke about it. I believe you can joke about anything. It all depends on how you construct the joke, what the exaggeration is, what the exaggeration is. Because every joke needs one exaggeration, every joke needs one thing to be way out of proportion. Give you an example. Did you ever see a news story like this is the paper? Every now and then you run into a story that says, some guy broke into a house, stole a lot of things, and while he was in there, he raped an 81-year old woman. And I’m thinking to myself, why? What the fuck kind of a social life does this guy have? I want to say, why did you do that? Well, she was coming on to me. We were dancing, and I got horny. Hey, she was asking for it. She had on a tight bathrobe. I say, Jesus Christ, be a little fucking selective next time, will you? Now, speaking of rape. You know what I wonder? I wonder is there more rape at the equator or the North Pole? These are the kind of things I think about when I’m sitting home alone and the power goes out. I wonder is there more rape at the equator or the North Pole. I mean, per capita. I know the populations are different. Most people think it’s the equator. I think it’s the North Pole. People think it’s the equator because it’s hot down there, they don’t wear a lot of clothing, guys can see women’s tits, they get horny, and there’s a lot of fucking going on. That’s exactly why there’s less rape at the equator, because there’s a lot of fucking going on. You can tell there’s a lot of fucking at the equator, take a look at the population figures. Billions of people life near the equator. How many Eskimos we got, 30, 35? No one’s getting laid at the North Pole, it’s too fucking cold. Guys say to their wives, hey, tonight honey, huh, tonight, huh? Are you crazy, the wind chill factor is 300 below. These guys are deprived, they’re horny, they’re pent up. Every now and then, they bust out, they got to rape somebody. Now, the biggest problem an Eskimo rapist has, trying to get wet leather leggings off a woman who’s kicking. Did you ever try to get leather pants off of someone who doesn’t want to take them off? You would lose your hard on in the process. Up at the North Pole, your dick would shrivel up like a stack of dimes. That’s another thing I wonder. I wonder, does a rapist have a hard on when he leaves the house in the morning, or does he develop it during the day when he’s walking around looking for somebody? These are the kind of thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools.

Now I probably got the feminists all pissed off at me because I’m joking about rape. Feminists want to control your language. Feminists want to tell you how to talk. And they’re not alone, they’re not alone, I’m not picking on the feminists, they got a lot of company in this country. There’s a lot of groups, lot of institutions in this country want to control your language, tell you what you can say and what you can’t say. Government wants to tell you some things you can’t say because they’re against the law. Or you can’t say this because it’s against a regulation. Or here’s something you can’t say because it’s a secret. You can’t tell him that because he’s not cleared to know that. Government wants to control information and control language because that’s the way you control thought. And basically that’s the game they’re in.

Same with religion. Religion is nothing but mind control. Religion is just trying to control your mind, control your thoughts, so they’re going to tell you some things you shouldn’t say because they’re sins. And besides telling you things you shouldn’t say, religion’s going to suggest to you some things you ought to be saying. Here’s something you ought to say first thing when you wake up in the morning. Here’s something you ought to say just before you go to sleep at night. Here’s something we always say on the third Wednesday in April after the first full moon in Spring at 4:00 when the bells ring. Religion is always suggesting things you ought to be saying, same with political groups of all kinds, political activists, anti-biased groups, special interest groups are going to suggest the correct political vocabulary, the way you ought to be saying things, and that’s where the feminists come in.

Now, as I said, I got nothing against the feminists. In fact, I happen to agree with most of the feminist philosophy I have read. I agree for instance that for the most part, men are vain, ignorant, greedy, brutal assholes who’ve just about ruined this planet… Who’ve just about ruined this planet because they’re afraid someone might have a bigger dick out there somewhere. Men are basically insecure about the size of their dicks, and so they go to war over it. You don’t have to be a political scientist or a history major to see the bigger dick foreign policy theory at work. It goes something like this, what, they have bigger dicks? Bomb them. And of course, the bombs and the bullets and the rockets are all shaped like dicks. I don’t understand that part of it, but it is part of the equation. So I agree with that abstract, that man, men, males, have pushed the technology that just about has this planet in a stranglehold. Mother Earth, raped again, guess who? Eh, she was asking for it. I also happen to like it when feminists attack these fat ass housewives who think there’s nothing more to life than sitting home on the telephone drinking coffee, watching TV and pumping out a baby every nine months. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom. Will seven be enough, Bob? Ba boom, ba boom. But what’s the alternative? What’s the alternative to pumping out a unit every nine months? Pointless careerism? Putting on a man tailored suit with shoulder pads and imitating all the worst behavior of men? This is the noblest thing that women can think of, to take a job in a criminal corporation that’s poisoning the environment and robbing customers out of their money? This is the worthiest thing they can think of? Isn’t there something nobler they can do to be helping this planet heal? You don’t hear much about that from these middle class women. I’ve noticed that most of these feminists are white, middle class women, they don’t give a shit about black women’s problems, they don’t care about Latino women. All they’re interested in is their own reproductive freedom and their pocketbooks. But when it comes to changing the language, I think they make some good points, because we do think in language. And so the quality of our thoughts and ideas could only be as good as the quality of our language. So maybe some of this patriarchal shit ought to go away. I think spokesmen ought to be spokesperson. I think chairman ought to be chairperson. I think mankind ought to be humankind. But they take it too far. They take themselves too seriously. The exaggerate. They want me to call that thing in the street a person hole cover. I think that’s taking it a little bit too far. What would you call a lady’s man, a person’s person? That would make a he-man an it person. Little kids would be afraid of the boogie person. They’d look up in the sky and see the person in the moon. Guys would say come back here and fight like a person, and we’d all sing, For It’s a Jolly Good Person. That’s the kind of thing you would hear on Late Night with David Letterperson. You know what I mean? So I think it’s an exaggeration, and I like to piss off any group that takes itself a little bit too seriously, and it does not take a lot of imagination to piss off a feminist. All you got to do is run into N.O.W. Headquarters or Ms. Magazine and say, Hey, which one of you cute little cupcakes wants to come home and cook me a nice meal and give me a blow job? Blow job. Oh, that pisses them off. You want to piss off a feminist, call her a cum catcher, that’ll get her attention. Ah, don’t act disgusted, don’t act disgusted, half of you are going to go home and go down on each other tonight, remember? If you’re willing to swallow cum, let’s not make believe something I said was disgusting, okay? All right. Let’s not have a double standard here, one standard will do just fine.

Now, speaking of blowjobs. Do you know why they call it a blowjob? So it’ll sound like it has kind of a work ethic attached to it. Make you feel like you did something useful for the economy. Long as I’m being a complete pig up here, let me ask you guys a question. Let me ask one question of the men. Are you ever able to watch a woman eating a banana and not think about a blowjob, huh? I can’t do it. I can’t do it, and I know why, I’m a sick evil fuck, I know that. I accept that. But I can’t do it. Eating a banana, eating a pickle, licking on an ice cream cone. I’m saying to myself, look at the tongue on her, wow. So you women be careful when you’re standing out in front of that Hagen Daas, because God damn it, we’re watching. And God damn it, we’re thinking. Another woman’s issue, prostitution. I do not understand why prostitution is illegal. Why should prostitution be illegal? Selling is legal, fucking is legal. Why isn’t selling fucking legal? You know, why should it be illegal to sell something that’s perfectly legal to give away? I can’t follow the logic on that at all. Of all the things you can do too a person, giving someone an orgasm is hardly the worst thing in the world. In the Army, they give you a medal for spraying Napalm on people. Civilian life, you go to jail for giving someone an orgasm. Maybe I’m not supposed to understand it.
I got strange ideas anyway. You know what I think they ought to do with that Miss American contest? I think they ought to make the losers keep coming back until they win. I’ll tell you. That would get a little spooky after about 35 years or so, huh? I just want to work on world peace. Fine, sit down before you fall down, will you? And pick up all these Goddamn batons. I got a lot of ideas. You know what I think? I think Kleenex ought to have little targets on them. Wouldn’t that be a good idea, little bulls eyes right in the middle of the Kleenex, make it kind of sporting when you’re with your friends. (Blowing nose sound) Look Dave, an 85. That’s a good idea. I got a lot of good ideas. Trouble is, most of them suck. I got a lot of good ideas for new products like that. That’s what I think about on my off duty hours, things we need, products we ought to have that we don’t have. You know what we ought to have, we ought to have a diet salad dressing called 500 Islands. See, good God damn ideas, like that, huh? A Christian deodorant, Thou Shalt Not Smell. How about a feminine hygiene spray called Sprunt. Huh? Well, you’d never forget the name, would you? It would always be on the tip of your tongue, see? Marketing, marketing, that’s where I belong, among other places. Marketing. Here’s an idea I got. This is a yo-yo with a 2,000-foot string. You use it when you visit the Grand Canyon. See, I’m a visionary, I’m ahead of my time. Trouble is, I’m only about an hour and a half ahead. Here’s a good idea, a light bulb that only shines on things worth looking at. Yeah, kind of too idealistic, never make any money on a thing like that. Here’s something that’s going to make you a fortune, get in on this. This is a roach spray, it doesn’t kill the roaches, but it fills them with self-doubt as to whether or not they’re in the right house. Yeah. Here’s something I’m trying to interest the Japanese electronics firms in this. This would be a great product for Sony. This is a combination cassette player and colostomy bag. It’s called Shitman. Huh? Sure. Well, you never see that. You never see that. You never see a guy jogging down the street, listening to a Shitman. No, that’s one of those things you never see. There’s a lot of things you never see. And you don’t know you don’t see them because you don’t see them. You got to see something first to know you never saw it, then you see it and say, hey I never saw that. Too late, you just saw it. I know things you never see. You never see a Rolls Royce with a bumper sticker that says, shit happens. You never see a really big tall, fat Chinese guy with red hair. You never see a wheelchair with the roll bar. You never see someone taking a shit while running at full speed. And you never see a picture of Margaret Thatcher strapping on a dildo. You’ll never see it. That’s one of those things you never see. Then there are some things you never hear, that makes sense. Some things you never hear. You never hear this, Dad, you really ought to drink more. Here’s something you don’t hear too often Do what you want to the girl, but leave me alone. Here is something no one has ever heard, ever, ever. As soon as I put this hot poker in my ass, I’m going to chop my dick off. You know why you never heard that? Right, no one ever said that. Which to me is the more amazing thing, no one ever thought to say that before tonight. I’m the first person in the world to put those words together in that particular order. First guy, number one. Here’s something you don’t hear too often, Honey, let’s sell the children, move to Zanzibar and begin taking opium rectally. Mom? Mom, I got a big date tonight, can I borrow a French tickler from you? Then there are some things you don’t want to hear. Some things you just flat don’t want to hear. You don’t want to come home from work and hear, honey, remember how we told the children never to play on the railroad tracks? You don’t want to be sitting in your doctor’s office and hear this. Well, Jim, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t live another 20 to 30 years. However, you will be bleeding constantly from both eyes. Here’s something I don’t want to hear, I’m pregnant, you’re the father, and I’m going to kill all three of us. Calm down, have some dip. Honey, it’s the police. They have a search warrant, and the 300 kilos of cocaine are still sitting out in the living room. Here’s something nobody wants to hear, nobody wants to hear this. Try to think back to when this was appropriate to your life. You and your fiancé have been invited to your mom and dad’s house for dinner for the first time. Halfway through dinner, your fiancé stands up and says, I’ll be right back. I got to take a dump. There seems to be no really gentile way of announcing publicly a dump. And frankly, I’m not impressed with people who tell me what they’re going to do when they go to the bathroom in the first place. Doesn’t it bother you, people that announce it, I’ll be right back, I’m going to take a shit. Never mind. Do what you have to do and leave me out of it, and don’t describe it when you come back. Boy, you should have seen… Never mind. It set off the smoke alarm. Never mind. I have never understood that, nor have a cared for it.

Something else I don’t care for, these organ donor programs. That shit bother you a little bit? Sounds like Josef Mengele’s been sitting on some of those meetings or something? Organ donor programs. The thing that bothers me the most about it is they’re run by the Motor Vehicle Bureau. I figure, hey, shit, you got to wait on a line that long for a kidney, fuck it, do without. It’s the Motor Vehicle Bureau in most states who send you the little card you’re supposed to carry right next to your wallet, right next to your driver’s license, in your wallet, little card. You’re supposed to fill it out and on it you’re supposed to list the organs you’re willing to give in case you die. Are these people out of their fucking minds or something? Do you honestly believe that if a paramedic finds that card on you in an automobile accident, he’s going to try to save your life? Bullshit, he’s looking for parts, man. Absolutely. Look, Dan, here’s that lower intestine we’ve been looking for. Never mind the oxygen, this man’s a donor. Bullshit, they want something of mine, they can have my rectum and my anus, that’s all I’m giving, take them and get out of here. Put them in your bag and get the fuck out of my life, that’s all I’m giving. I don’t want some guy poking around in me, hoping I die. I want to live. I don’t want to die. That’s the whole secret of life, not dying. I figured that shit out alone in third grade.

And don’t be pulling any plugs on me, either. Here’s another bunch of macho asshole bullshit floating around this country, people talking about ah, pull the plug on me. If I’m ever like that, if I’m comatose, if I’m like a vegetable, pull the plug on me. Fuck you, leave my plug alone. Get an extension cord for my plug. I want everything you got, tubes, cords, plugs, probes, electrodes, IV’s, you got something, stick it in me, man. You find out I got a hole I didn’t know I had, put a fucking plug in it. Vegetable, shit, I don’t care if I look like an artichoke. Save my ass. There’s three things I want if I’m ever in that condition, three things I got to have, ice cream, morphine and television. You give me that ice cream every two hours, give me that morphine about… every ten minutes, and turn on the fucking TV. I want to see Geraldo. And don’t be coming to visit me, I got no time for life people, I’m brain dead here. You people got no respect for the brain dead? Hey, you got to be brain dead to watch Geraldo in the first place. You might as well watch him when you’re clinically brain dead. There’s one other thing I thought about concerning this comatose thing, and this might help you someday. This little piece of information might come in handy sometime in the future if you’re in this circumstance. If you knew a family, if you knew a family and one of them was a homosexual and he was in an automobile accident and he was comatose, you could always comfort that family by saying, well, look at it this way, he was a fruit, now he’s a vegetable. Listen, at least he’s still in the produce section.

Now I probably got some other group pissed off at me because I said fruit. There’s a different group to get pissed off at you in this country for everything you’re not supposed to say. Can’t say fruit, can’t say faggot, can’t say queer, can’t say Nancy boy, can’t say pansy. Can’t say nigger, boogie, jig, jiggaboo, skinhead, jungle bunny, moolie, moolie yan or schwarz. Can’t say yid, heeb, zeeb, kike, mackie, dego, ginny, wop, ginzo, greaser, greaseball, spick, beaner, oya, tiger, PR, Mick, donkey, turkey, limey, frog, squarehead, kraut, jerry, Hun, chink, jap, nip, slope, slopehead, zip, zipper head, gook. There is absolutely nothing wrong… There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those words in and of themselves. They’re only words. It’s the context that counts. It’s the user. It’s the intention behind the words that makes them good or bad. The words are completely neutral the words are innocent. I get tired of people talking about bad words and bad language. Bullshit. It’s the context that makes them good or bad, the context that makes them good or bad. For instance, you take the word nigger. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the word nigger in and of itself. It’s the racist asshole that’s using it that you ought to be concerned about. We don’t care when Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy says it. Why? Because we know they’re not racists. They’re niggers. Context. Context. We don’t mind their context because we know they’re black. Hey, I know I’m Whitey, the blue-eyed devil patio, fake gray boy, honkie, motherfucker myself. Don’t bother my ass. They’re only words. You can’t be afraid of words that speak the truth, even if it’s an unpleasant truth like the fact that there’s a bigot and a racist in every living room on every street corner in this country. I don’t like words that hide the truth. I don’t like words that conceal reality. I don’t like euphemisms or euphemistic language. And American English is loaded with euphemisms, because Americans have a lot of trouble dealing with reality. Americans have trouble facing the truth, so they invent the kind of a soft language to protect themselves from it. And it gets worse with every generation. For some reason it just keeps getting worse.
I’ll give you an example of that. There’s a condition in combat, most people know about it. It’s when a fighting person’s nervous system has been stressed to its absolute peak and maximum, can’t take any more input. The nervous system has either snapped or is about to snap. In the First World War that condition was called shell shock. Simple, honest, direct language, two syllables. Shell shock. Almost sounds like the guns themselves. That was 70 years ago. Then a whole generation went by, and the Second World War came along and the very same combat condition was called battle fatigue. Four syllables now, it takes a little longer to say, doesn’t seem to hurt as much. Fatigue is a nicer word than shock. Shell shock, battle fatigue. Then we had the war in Korea in 1950, Madison Avenue was riding high by that time, and the very same combat condition was called Operational Exhaustion. Hey, we’re up to eight syllables now, and the humanity has been squeezed completely out of the phrase, it’s totally sterile now. Operational Exhaustion. Sounds like something that might happen to your car. Then of course came the war in Viet Nam, which has only been over for about 16 or 17 years. And thanks to the lies and deceits surrounding that war, I guess it’s no surprise that the very same condition was called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Still eight syllables, but we’ve added a hyphen, and the pain is completely buried under jargon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I bet you if we’d have still been calling it shell shock, some of them Viet Nam veterans might have gotten the attention they needed at the time. But it didn’t happen, and one of the reasons is because we were using that soft language, that language that takes the life out of life.

And it is a function of time, it does keep getting worse, give you another example. Sometime during my life, sometime during my life toilet paper became bathroom tissue. I wasn’t notified of this, no one asked me if I agreed with it. It just happened.
Toilet paper became bathroom tissue.

Sneakers became running shoes.
False teeth became dental appliances.
Medicine became medication.
Information became directory assistance.
The dump became the landfill.
Car crashes became automobile accidents.
Partly cloudy became partly sunny.
Motels became motor lodges.
House trailers became mobile homes.
Used cars became previously owned transportation.
Room service became guest room dining.
And constipation became occasional irregularity.
When I was a little kid, if I got sick they wanted me to go to the hospital and see the doctor. Now they want me to go to a health maintenance organization, or a wellness center to consult a healthcare delivery professional.
Poor people used to live in slums. Now the economically disadvantaged occupies substandard housing in the inner cities.
And they’re broke. They’re broke. They don’t have a negative cash flow position, they’re fucking broke.
Because a lot of them were fired. You know, fired, management wanted to curtail redundancies in the human resources area, so many people are no longer viable members of the workforce.
Smug, greedy, well-fed white people have invented a language to conceal their sins, it’s as simple as that.
The CIA doesn’t kill anybody any more. They neutralize people, or they depopulate the area.
The government doesn’t lie, it engages in disinformation.
The Pentagon actually measures nuclear radiation and something they call Sunshine Units.
Israeli murderers are called Commandos.
Arab Commandos are called terrorists.
Contra killers are called Freedom fighters. Well, if crime fighters fight crime and firefighters fight fire, what do Freedom Fighters fight? They never mention that part of it to us, do they? Never mention that part of it.
Some of this stuff is just silly, we all know that. Like on the airlines, they say they want to pre board. Well, what the hell is pre board, what does that mean? To get on before you get on?
They say they’re going to pre board those passengers in need of special assistance. Cripples. Simple, honest, direct language. There’s no shame attached to the word cripple that I can find in any dictionary, no shame attached to it. In fact it’s a word used in Bible translations, Jesus healed the cripples. Doesn’t take seven words to describe that condition. But we don’t have any cripples in this country any more. We have the physically challenged. Is that a grotesque enough evasion for you?
How about differently abled? I’ve heard them called that, differently abled. You can’t even call these people handicapped anymore. They’ll say, we’re not handicapped, we’re handy capable. These poor people have been bullshitted by the system into believing that if you change the name of the condition, somehow you’ll change the condition. Well, hey cousin doesn’t happen. Doesn’t happen.
We have no more deaf people in this country, hearing impaired.
No one’s blind any more, partially sighted or visually impaired.
We have no more stupid people. Everybody has a learning disorder, or he’s minimally exceptional. How would you like to be told that about your child, he’s minimally exceptional. Oh, thank God for that.
Psychologists actually have started calling ugly people those with severe appearance deficits.
It’s getting so bad that any day now I expect to hear a rape victim referred to as an unwilling sperm recipient.
And we have no more old people in this country, no more old people. We shipped them all away, and we brought in these senior citizens. Isn’t that a typically American 20th Century phrase? Bloodless, lifeless. No pulse in one of them. A senior citizen. And I’ve accepted that one, I’ve come to terms with it, I know it’s here to stay. We’ll never get rid of it, that’s what they’re going to be called, so I’ll relax on that. But the one I do resist, the one I keep resisting, is when they look at an old guy, and they say, look at him, Dan, he’s 90 years young. Imagine the fear of aging that reveals, to not even be able to use the word old to describe someone, to have to use an antonym. And fear of aging is natural, it’s universal isn’t it. We all have that. No one wants to get old, no one wants to die, but we do. So we bullshit ourselves. I started bullshitting myself when I got to my 40’s. Soon as I was in my 40’s I’d look in the mirror and I’d say, well, I guess I’m getting older. Older sounds a little better than old, doesn’t it. Sounds like it might even last a little longer. Bullshit, I’m getting old, and it’s okay, because thanks to our fear of death in this country I won’t have to die. I’ll pass away. Or I’ll expire like a magazine subscription. If it happens in the hospital, they’ll call it a terminal episode. The insurance company will refer to it as negative patient care outcome, and if it’s the result of malpractice, they’ll say it was a therapeutic misadventure. I’m telling you, some of this language makes me want to vomit. Well, maybe not vomit, makes me want to engage in an involuntary personal protein spill.

Thank you all. Give me a little light for Moe. Moe says hello.

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