Love All the People (New Edition)

by Bill Hicks

  So ah, maybe I’m just sick of doing this. What do you do for a living? . . . If you could answer within five minutes of the question, it would really help the timing of the show, cos once again I already preplanned comedy answers, hokay? Sorry to pop the spontaneity fucking bubble. I’m str—

  Woman in audience: I work in a law firm.

  Bill: You work in a law firm. Was that fucking difficult? Move on. Something more funny than that. What do you do, sir? This is the like the Thirtysomething . . . you were in mourning when Thirtysomething got cancelled, weren’t you, this whole table? That show makes me want to nuclear holocaust in two minutes. Fucking whining white pieces of shits. ‘Life is so difficult.’ Like you wanna know how to make life a little less difficult? Come here. (makes sound of three gunshots) There we go. There’s one less whiner in the fucking world. Kill all white people: that is my theme. Oh . . . I’m seeing sparks, stars in front of my eyes, doc. What kind of doctor are you?

  Man in audience: Me?

  Bill: NO, HIM! I’M FUCKING CROSS-EYED, YA GOOF-BALL! IF I’M LOOKING AT YA AND TALKING, LET’S GO AHEAD AND ASSUME IT’S YOU I’M FUCKING TALKING TO! You’re a professional what?

  Man in audience: I manage professional wrestling.

  Bill: You manage profess— oop! I want outa comedy, now how did I do? I could pin those fucking— they’re fairies, one an’ all, aren’t they? ADMIT IT! ADMIT IT! They put on their little pantie tights and they all have circle jerks. And they all have all the kids come back for autographs.

  ‘Come here, sit on Hulk’s lap, young man.’

  ‘Hey what kinda hold is this, Hulk?’

  ‘It’s called Hulk’s special love hold, young ’un.’

  Swear to God, I woke up in the best mood. Happened to be eight p.m., but . . . you really manage professional wrestlers? Why the thumb? Is there a meet going on right now, a match? You waitin’ to hear the latest on the Hulk Hogan steroid . . . travesty? ‘What are we gonna do if all these athletes . . . are using steroids?’ Hulk Hogan – another reason I pray FOR NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST WITHIN ONE MINUTE! BECAUSE THIS FUCKING PITUITARY RETARD WALKS THE FUCKING PLANET I want you all to die. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but work with me on this. ‘I’m the Hulk.’ You’re a fucking retard, OK? Case closed. ‘He’s a retard that makes more money than you. Uh-hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hooo!’ (sighs) IS THAT ALL IT IS, FUCKIN’ MONEY TO YOU PEOPLE? Sorry. I don’t know where this came from. Sorry. Later on we’re gonna play put-put golf up here, so get ready. I’m going to be the windmill.

  (singing) ‘These boots’ – what do you do, sir? Are you from Pittsburgh? Very beautiful town. What do you do here? Student! Very good. And where do you stude? Cornell? Cool. What’re you majoring in?

  Student: Psychology.

  Bill: (laughing) Psychology. Bet you’re having a field day watching this shit, aren’t ya. ‘See, he talked about fucking young kids in the ass, he smoked twenty cigarettes in a row. I think I’m gonna do a thesis on this guy. Fuck it. Can I get some more napkins, waitress? I’m writing something here.’ Psychology’s an interesting topic, I must have missed at college. Freud had an interesting theory: the Oedipal theory, you know that? All men, he said, wanna sleep with their moms. I thought that was bullshit, till one day I saw a picture of Freud’s mom. Owwwwwww! Hot tub! Yeah! In a minute. Whoo! I woulda done her over the dryer. Oww! Mama! But he obviously wasn’t looking at my mom when he came up with that theory.

  Well, I respect anyone who could go to school. I went to college for three weeks, so ah, I could not get up for that eight o’clock class, as hard as I tried, man. You know that feeling? Yeah. I was going to night school, though. University of Houston, Texas, and Los Angeles Community College where I took karate with the East LA gangs, who had swastikas tattooed on their forehead, thank you very much. These were my classmates. Ha ha ha, OK. Swastika tattooed on their foreheads. Tattooed, no less. OK, great . . . Hoy, shabadoom . . . I had no luck in school. I’ll tell ya my luck, man. You tell me if this sucks. One day in first grade our teacher left the room for like a minute. And we started playing ‘keep away’ from this girl with her pencil. We’re all in first grade, we’re laughin’. ‘Y’all quit it. Give me my pen— would you quit it? I need my pencil.’ Pencil came to me, I throw it . . . goes in this guy’s eye. Blinds him for life. Everyone in class goes, ‘Jesus, Hicks. It’s a game. What are you, a psycho or something?’ Now suddenly I’m Henry Lee Hicks here . . . cos this guy can’t catch a number two pencil like a normal human, you know.

  ‘I got it! Ugh.’

  ‘Good move, you dork. I’m an assassin now.’

  Teacher came back in the room. ‘Hicks stabbed him.’ Oh, suddenly I went for the guy. Come on! It was a childhood game. It went askew.

  One time I was late for class, but it’s not late, it is . . .

  Audience: Tardy.

  Bill: Tardy! That is a school word that means absolutely nothing on the streets, I hope you realize that. If you don’t realize that, try showing up late to work tomorrow and run in:

  ‘Hey am I tardy?’

  ‘No, you’re fired.’

  ‘Not what I thought it meant.’

  But I’m late/tardy – whatever. I’m sitting down, guy next to me yanks my chair out from under me, right when I sat. I hit the floor, even the teacher cracks up. ‘That’s what you get for being tardy!’ Later on that year, that guy was late, class had started, he’s sitting down, I yank his chair out from under him. Boom! Middle of class. Breaks his fucking back. ‘Shit, get up. Try harder.’ That guy was in every one of my classes the next five years. ‘Real funny, Hicks.’ The guy with one eye pushing him around. What am I supposed to say? ‘Well, you guys can park closer to the school now. No more tardys. (chuckles) Look on the bright side.’ Took his fucking bright side out. Boy, am I embarrassed.

  So, what do you go to college, too? Cornell? Penn State. And what are you majoring in? Huh? Education. OK, yeah. What are you majoring in?

  Woman in audience: Physical Therapy.

  Bill: Physical Therapy? (inhales) How d’you meet that dude? (laughs) What do you do? Majoring in? Economics? Dude. Wrestler, huh? Do you see it? Come on, man, how about the pissed-off fucking economist, man. Like here’s what we’ll do. We’ll do a whole thing where he wins, and then he gets the purse, right? And it’s like ‘This is not what I expected.’ Then he goes fucking bezerk. (makes crashing noise) Kids’ll go crazy for that. I’m trying to help us all, man.

  I envision a world where we all make money doing NOTHING. There’s not enough . . . there’s not enough, you know– people are ‘Uh, wha, what? We like our jobs, Bill. We like the gruelling in and out, eight hours a day, setting the alarm clock, traffic, Bill – traffic! We love it!’ You know what I hate about working? Bosses. That’s what I fucking hate. First of all, let me tell you something real quick. The very idea that anyone could be my boss, well . . . I think you see the conflict. Not in this lifetime, Charlie. A few more incarnations, we’ll sit down and chat. But I used to always get harassed. ‘Hicks, how come you’re not workin’.’ I’d go, ‘There’s nothing to do.’

  ‘Well, you pretend like you’re workin’.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you pretend I’m working? Yeah, you get paid more than me, you fantasize. Pretend I’m mopping. Knock yourself out. I’ll pretend they’re buying stuff; we can close up. I’m the boss now, you’re fired. How’s that? I’m on a fuckin’ roll. We’re all millionaires and you’re rich. I’m pretending shit, I’m just, I’m wacky, I can’t be stopped.’

  I don’t know if I have the right attitude for the workplace.

  I don’t drink ah . . . I don’t do drugs. I wanna thank management for offering . . . but, oh yeah, huge pile of that shit right up there, yeah. Ever seen it so big it had a ski lift on it? Really, it’s unbelievable. Right up there. But ah . . . no, actually, I, I, I, I quit doing drugs. I used to take drugs and I quit. But I’ll tell you something honestly about drugs, and I don’t think this is said enough any more
– I mean, it’s the truth: I had a great time doing drugs. Ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry. Never murdered anybody, never robbed anybody, never raped anybody, never beat anybody, never lost a job, a car, a house, a wife, or kids, laughed my ass off, and went about my day. Sorry. Now where’s my commercial? How come I don’t get a fucking commercial? I’ll be the guy holding that skillet on that commercial, man. That ain’t a brain, that’s breakfast. Let’s eat! Pschhhhhhhhh. What, have we been up five days now? I’m STARVING! Get the plates and forks out, boys, the brain’s almost ready. Whoooooo! Pschhhhhhhhh. It is that very commercial that tells me how completely unhip and unintelligent our fucking government is, that commercial. ‘Here’s ya brain. Here’s ya brain on drugs.’ And you seen the guy in that commercial. Guy’s got a beer gut: ‘Here’s ya brain. Here’s your brain. Here’s your brain on drugs.’ I’ve seen a lot of weird shit on drugs, but I have never ever ever looked at an egg . . . and thought it was a fucking brain, man. I have seen UFOs split the sky like a sheet, but I have never looked at an egg and thought it was a fucking brain, not once. I have had seven balls of light come off of a UFO, lead me on to their ship, explain to me telepathically that we are all one and there’s no such thing as death, but I have never looked at an egg and thought it was a fucking brain, not once. Now, maybe I wasn’t getting good shit. I admit it, I see that commercial, I feel cheated. Hey, where’s the stuff that makes eggs look like brains? Did I quit too soon? What is that? CIA stash? I’m in. CIA: biggest drug runners in the world.25FACT! I’m teasing. Our government’s great. Liar! No, they are good people. Suckers of Satan’s cock. No, they are good.

  The guy in the commercial’s got a beer gut. ‘All right, this is it. Look up now. See that? That’s ya brain. All righty? There it is: your brain. There it is. See it? That’s a brain. Your brain.’ The guy is fucking drunk doing this commercial, man. ‘Here’s your brain.’ That’s an egg! That’s a frying pan, that’s a stove, you’re an alcoholic, dude . . . I’m tripping right now, and I still see that is a fucking egg, my friend. I see the UFOs around it, but . . . there’s an egg in the middle. There’s a hobbit eating it, but goddamn it that hobbit is eating a fuckin’ egg. He is on a unicorn . . . but they’re eating eggs! How dare you have a wino tell me not to do drugs. And that is what I hate about the war on drugs. All day long you see those commercials: ‘Here’s your brain’, ‘Just say no’, ‘Why d’you think they call it dope?’ And the next commercial is: This Bud’s for you.’ Come on, America. Let’s be hypocritical bastards. Come on! ‘It’s OK to drink your drug. (gulping sound) We meant those other drugs. Those untaxed drugs. Those are the bad ones.’ I think you see that.

  Thank God they’re taxing alcohol, man. It means we have those great roads we can get fucked up and drive on. Thank God they’re taxing this shit, huh? We’d be doing doughnuts in a wheatfield right now. Thank God we’re on a pretty good, smooth freeway. Whoo! Party time. Cos I have some more news to tell you, folks, and it’s not popular news, but once again it’s the fucking truth! Ready? It’s a two-parter. It’s a two-parter, ready? Drum roll. Here’s number one. Drum roll. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Alcohol’s a drug. Ha ha ha ha! OK. And here’s number two, and this is the one that hurts. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Alcohol kills more people than crack, coke and heroin combined each year. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! (singing) ‘Na na na. Na na na.’ So thanks for inviting me to your little alcoholic drug den here tonight. You hypocritical scum-sucking pieces of shit, you. Ha ha ha. I’m teasin’. No, I’m not. I’m filled with hate. What does that mean, psychologist? Have you gotten that far yet? A man FILLED TO THE FUCKING BRIM WITH PURE, WHITE HATRED! Do I fall under the fucking Manson category yet? Who will be my Squeaky Fromme26 tonight? Who will join me on a spree of bloodcurdling horror? Who is the girl of my dreams? Call 970-ASSASSIN and she will come to your house. She will bring sharp kitchen knives and— OK, sorry. ‘The girl of your dreams.’

  Man in audience: Butcher knives.

  Bill: Butcher knives – that’s better. Hey, man, I’m improvving this shit, dude. Drugs . . . I’ll tell ya, man, if I were going to legalize a drug, it would not be alcohol. You know why?

  Woman in audience: Why?

  Bill: There’s better drugs and better drugs for ya. That’s a fact. So you can stop your internal dialogue. ‘Wait a minute, Bill. Alcohol’s an acceptable form of social interaction, which for thousands of years has been an accep—’ Shut the fuck up, man. Your denial is beneath you . . . and thanks to the use of hallucinogenic drugs, I see through you. Oh yes, I do. I’m cursed with vision. And I love those pants!

  Not only do I think marijuana should be legalized . . . I think it should be mandatory. Think about it, man, you get in traffic behind somebody.

  (makes sound of truck horn)

  ‘Shut up and smoke that – it’s the law.’

  ‘Sorry I was taking life seriously. Oh man, who’s hungry?’

  That’d be a nice world: quiet, mellow, hungry, high people everywhere. Just Dominos’ pizza trucks passing each other. Every single highway: parades of Dominos’. (truck horn) Let them get stuck in traffic: all our pizzas will be free, you see. ‘I’m a dreamer, I’m a fuckin’ dreamer, I’m a dreamer, Tommy. Tommy, join the band, I’m a fuckin’ dreamer.’ What?

  Pot is a better drug than alcohol. FACT! I’ll prove it to ya. You’re in a ball game or a concert and someone’s really violent and aggressive and obnoxious. Are they drunk or are they smoking pot?

  Audience: Drunk!

  Bill: Drunk would be the one and only correct answer, thank you very much. Drunk would be the ONE and only correct answer. I have never seen people on pot get in a fight because it is fucking impossible.

  ‘Hey buddy!’

  ‘Hey what.’

  End of argument. Kind of hard to hold a resentment when you can’t remember ’em. You know. ‘I’m supposed to hate you, but I don’t know why. Ah, forget it.’ Say you get in a car accident and you’ve been smoking pot. You’re only going four miles an hour.

  (laughs; makes sound of car crash)

  ‘Shit, we hit something.’

  ‘Uh-uh, we got rear-ended by a Dominos’ truck. That’s his fault. That means it’s free. Tommy, get the coupon. We will feast on the turnpike.’

  It’s just a better drug.

  I have never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Marijuana grows all over the world, serves a thousand different functions, ALL of them positive. To make marijuana against the law is like saying God made a mistake. You know what I mean? It’s like God on the seventh day looked down on his creation, and he said, ‘There it is, my creation. Perfect and holy in all ways. Now I can rest . . . Oh my Me! I left fucking pot everywhere. I should never have smoked that joint on the third day, shit. Boy, if I leave pot everywhere, it’s gonna give people the impression they’re supposed to use it. Shit! Now I have to create Republicans.’ So you see, it’s a vicious cycle. And one we’re paying for dearly daily. Ha ha! Dearly daily. OK. Little pun there. Little fun. Fun time. I’m amusing people one at a time here tonight: this is unique. I’m amazed at the restraint of the rest of you till your time comes up. You’re really patient. ‘That one wasn’t for me. I’ll wait till mine comes around the corner.’

  I am not promoting the use of drugs, I’m just saying if you’re gonna have a war against drugs, have ’em against all drugs including alcohol, the number one offender, or shut the fuck up. And oh, by the way, my simple pleasurable advice would be: shut the fuck up. Ha ha ha ha ha. Just shut up. Your ways are tired, your point of view is meaningless, and you live hollow fucking lives. Shut up, and learn from your master . . . that guy. (laughs) He is the master.

  I’ve had good times on drugs, that’s a fact. I’ve had bad times on drugs, too, OK? But I’ve had good and bad relationships . . . an’ I’m not giving up pussy.

  ‘Hi, I’m Bill. I’m a pussyholic. I like the way it smells, I love the way it tastes.’


  ‘You’re in the right place, man, keep coming back. We are all powerless over pussy here.’

  ‘Cool, y’all have any literature?’

  ‘Yeah, here’s a Penthouse.’

  You ever read those Penthouse letters? Those are pretty weird. Penthouse forum?

  ‘I never believed your letters were true till I attended a large, mid-Western college in the south-east. On the first day of class, I went to my first ah class, and ah, the class was me and . . . thirty other girls. Thirty girls. Thirty girls and me, and the teacher was a woman. And me. And class began normally when the bell rang, and ah right after that . . . they all started blowing me. Yeah, they were all blowing me, they got in a big line, and they all blew me, then they got in a big daisy chain, and I shot on their tits, and they ate each other off each other’s tits. Name and address withheld.’

  Guys, we all know if that happened to us, we’d put our fucking names on that letter. Bill Hicks, New York, New York, name and address not withheld. Bill Hicks . . . thirty girls blew me – Bill Hicks. Big daisy chain – Bill Hicks was in the middle. Bill Hicks shot on their tits, Bill Hicks watched them eat it off, Bill Hicks. Name and address not withheld – Bill Hicks. Jiminy Crickets, man. You guys are tighter than . . . that girl I’m seeing. Ha ha ha ha! Like a wisp of cotton candy surrounding a paper cut. Ohhh, I’m proud of that image. That’s poetry, friends. Get off your high horses, join young Willie in this trench.