by Bill Hicks
I have had bad times on drugs. One time me and three friends dropped acid, drove round in my dad’s car. He’s got one of those talking cars. We’re tripping. The car goes, ‘The door is ajar.’ We pulled over and thought about that for twelve hours.
‘How can a door be a jar?’
‘Shit, I don’t know, but I see it.’
‘I see it, too.’
‘Shit, why would they put a jar on a car?’
‘Shit, I don’t know. What’s that?’
‘That’s an egg! Oh great, we’re not that high yet. When this turns into a brain, we’re getting a hotel room. I’ll drive in the jar-car – that brain-egg, that’s way too fucking high, man. I’ve never seen that. I’ve never seen that.’
K, I’m not proud of this moment in my life, but you know what my point is? My point is I was not a criminal when I did drugs, no more ’n you’re a criminal cos you’re drinking a beer. People who do drugs are not criminals. They might be sick, but I don’t think jail is gonna heal ’em. ‘Yep, thank God they caught me. What was I doin’ ruinin’ my life with that marijuana? I wanna thank Bubba, my rehabilitator back there.’ I would not come out of jail wanting to do less drugs, I would wanna come out mainlining heroin into my fucking eyeball. I don’t know the case yet that jail healed anybody. K? K, America? Wake up from your law enforcement fucking fantasy, and shut up. It ain’t gonna work, K? It’s not gonna work. So let’s move on to a plan that might work. Isn’t that simple? Feels good too, don’t it?
George Bush has filled up all the jails with drug users. The jails are overcrowded. I guess he wants to make sure there’s no room for Neil.27 A true criminal of humankind, by the way. I’m kidding, he’s a great kid. Liar! No, he is. He’s a good man. Sucker of Satan’s cock. No, I’m teasing. He’s a great kid, and George Bush is really an American. Come on, wink with me. Join me on the sarcasm slide: it’s a big fucking amusement park. Let’s get on the sarcasm slide, whoo-whoo-hoo-hoo!
I was almost arrested that same night we got pulled over tripping on acid. Longest night of my life. Cops were tapping on this window. We’re staring at him in this mirror.
‘How tall are you?’
‘Look, they’re little biddy coppers, look at them!’
‘How do they drive that big fucking car?’
‘Shit, I think I got one in my hair.’
‘What are we gonna do?’
‘Let’s put him in the jar! Put him in the jar! Poke some holes in the lid, leave him by the road. You’ll never get us, copper. You’ll never get us!’
I’m not proud of every moment in my life, all right?
Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy, thank you, Momma. That’s another thing. I don’t understand America. I DON’T UNDERSTAND AMERICA!
Why do families go— remember going on summer vacations with your family as a kid? Wasn’t that the most nightmarish, hellish experience? Packing up in the car, driving fourteen hours, no direction whatsoever . . . hating with all of your heart every member of your family. ‘I’m going to kill them all at the Holiday Inn tonight. I’m going to be a little mass murderer.’ Why don’t families, instead of doing that – instead of taking that summer trip – take acid and stay home and trip together? It would be much more fun and edifying, and the home movies would be infinitely more amusing. Just twenty minutes of someone’s thumb. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. ‘You notice, son, the thumb is opposable, and thus we can grab and grasp things and use tools.’ Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. ‘I think I see, Daddy. I think I see.’ It would be a lot more edifying than . . . a Stuckey’s28 diet for ten days. (a few titters from audience) I stand alone with these theories. You know how lonely it is being me? Can you imagine everything you say, the reaction is this? (silence) Everything you say, people go . . . ‘Are you the Devil?’ No, I’m not the Devil. Look, it’s two sixes and a nine. I’m bluffin’. Trying to get eighteen the hard way . . . Let’s see, which one’s the right one? (laughs) Trying— it’s like a Three Card Monte29 game? OK. Another joke that just didn’t go, did it? Just ‘Bill, shut up with your little jokes. Do mime.’
One more thing about drugs and I’m gonna quit the drug topic, and we’re that much closer to the dick jokes. OK. Ahm . . . and you don’t hear this enough either, and I gotta say it: drugs have done . . . good things for us. Yeah. And if you don’t believe they have, I want you to do me a favor. Go home tonight, take all your albums, your tapes and your CDs, and burn them. Cos you know what? The musicians who made that great music that has enhanced your lives throughout the years? Rrrrrrrrrrrrreal fucking high on drugs. Yeah. Man, the Beatles were so high, they let Ringo sing a coupla tunes. Tell me they weren’t partyin’. (singing) ‘We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yell—’ We all live in a yell— you know how fucking high they were . . . when they wrote that? They had to pull Ringo off the ceiling with a rake to sing that fuckin’ song. ‘John, get Ringo. He’s in the corner. Pull him down. Wow, look at him scoot! Grab him, John. He’s got a song he wants to sing us. Something about living in a yellow tambourine or something. Ringo, Yoko’s gone! Come down. We can party again.’ They were real high, they wrote great music, drugs had a positive effect. End of story – no, let’s don’t end the story. Let’s extend the theory one more step. Feel the more proof, the better acceptance I might get for my little theory. These musicians today that don’t do drugs, and in fact speak out against them? ‘We’re rock against drugs.’ Boy, they suck. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! ‘Big ol’ ball-less soulless suck-jobs, every one of ’em, aren’t they? Corporate little bitches, one an’ all. Suckin’ Satan’s cock every morning when they wake up. (makes snorting, snarling noise) ‘I’m a rock star who sells Pepsi Cola products.’ (snorting, snarling noise) ‘I’m an artist who also sells Taco Bell.’ (snorting, snarling noise) I will lay down the law right now: anybody that sells Taco Bell products is immediately and for all time eliminated from any artistic endeavours. Case . . . fucking closed. You may shit Mona Lisas out yer ass as a party trick, you’re a fucking evil piece of shit. End of story. The end. The story just ended. There’ll be no further discussion. Dude, is it me? You’re the only guy giggling during the whole show, dude. Show ’em your pants, maybe that’s it. You’re tripping, man. YOU’RE TRIPPING! Ooooooooooo. (laughs)
(whistles) Taco Bell. Let me ask ya a quick question: why does Taco Bell have a fucking menu? Do ya need this? I mean, just go up to the counter. The guy should go:
‘How do you want your beans and flour arranged?’
‘I want mine to look like a taco.’
‘I’d like mine to look like a churrito.’
It’s like the Playdo of fast food, they just have this . . . thing with different little forms. (makes squirting sound) ‘Get the taco mould out.’ (squirting sound) It’s like the Playdo. If you ever had a Playdo factory as a child, you’d know that it’s the same Playdo but it comes out different, and ah . . . and I don’t know, herein might be a humorous or nostalgic view of childhood, and thus tying it in with the caring God, I’m gonna need lots of good dick jokes, I’m in a fuckin’ hole here, dude. Diggin’ the hole deeper and deeper. You know, people are heckling in Chinese right now. (in Chinese accent) ‘Why you not just start with dick joke? Why you have to . . . why you have to change people’s minds and beliefs? They don’t want to stand out. They want to be in the crowd. They don’t want to have beliefs.’ Oh, OK, thank you. The ancient wisdom of the Chinese. (Chinese accent) ‘They don’t want to rock the boat. They just want to hear dick jokes and go home.’ Well, fuck it, you know.
I am available for children’s parties, by the way. I know some of y’all might have a young ’un coming of age, and not wanna go the traditional clown/balloon animal route this year. Might wanna look me up: Beelzebozo. Clown from hell. It’s in the phone book under ‘B’ and ‘H’.
(singing) ‘It’s Beelzebozo time.’
‘Hi kids, it’s Beelzebozo time! Tell me something, who here out of you young ’uns has never smoked a cigarette. Come he
re! What’s your name?’
‘Tommy.’
‘Tommy How old are ya?’
‘Five.’
‘Five years old. And you mean to tell Beelzebozo you’re not smoking cigarettes yet? Come here, Tommy’ (coughing)
‘Mummy!’
‘Hold it in!’ (coughing)
‘Hold it in, Tommy!’
(singing) ‘It’s Beelzebozo time.’
‘Tell me something, who here out of you young ’uns has never . . . watched a skin flick. Come here, kids. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. See them, them’s titties, hu-huh.’
‘Mummy!’
‘That is yer mummy. Hu-huh!’
I’m kiddin’ya. (singing) It’s Beelzebozo time. (makes sound of crickets chirruping)
Skin flicks. Or as Jesse Helms calls it, ‘POE-NOGRA-PHA. POE-NOGRA-PHA.’ I don’t think you should be against something till you can pronounce it. Am I being too strict? What is pornography? Forget what poe-nogra-pha is, and no one will ever figure that out, but pornography – what is it? No one knows. Supreme Court says pornography is any act that has no artistic merit and causes sexual thoughts. That’s their definition. No artistic merit; causes sexual thoughts. Hmm. Yeah . . . and . . . so . . . what? When did . . . sex become a bad thing? Did I miss a meeting? ‘Bill, we had a big vote: fucking’s out. You were asleep.’ Wake me for that vote! I might be a swing vote. ‘Playboy – pornography – causes sexual thought. Penthouse – pornography – causes sexual thought. Madonna video – pornography – causes sexual thoughts!’ You know what causes sexual thoughts? I’m gonna clear the air for ya tonight. I’m so tired of this debate. It’s beneath us, and there are real issues that go undiscussed because of this . . . horseshit. Ready? Here’s what causes sexual thoughts. Drum roll. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Havin’ a dick. Hokay End of fuckin’ story. Case closed. (makes sound of door creaking shut) I can speak for every guy here tonight – you know what? Think I will – in the course of our day anything can cause a sexual thought, all right? You can be on a bus, a train, it’s rockin’ kinda nice . . . pants are a little tight . . . oh my God, I got a woody! I got a woody on a bus! Now what are we gonna do? Ban public transportation? Before Playboy, before Penthouse, before pornographic movies ever existed, people still had sexual thoughts, OK? ‘How do you know that, Bill?’ Well . . . we’re here. Ha ha ha ha! Somebody’s been fuckin’. Yeah. You follow your family tree back at every branch . . . fuckin’. Yeah, true. What caused it way back then? Well, maybe the wagon train ride out West.
(singing ‘I Wish I Was In Dixie Land’)
‘I don’t know what she has under that gingham skirt, but when we stop for water, we’re fuckin’, baby. (singing)
‘I got a woody on the trail. I got a woody on the trail.’
You see, they’re getting the cart before the horse on this pornography issue. Playboy does not create sexual thoughts: there are sexual thoughts. And thus there is Playboy. You see? What came first, the hard-on or the Madonna video? Ah . . . it’s a big philosophical question. And if a hard-on falls in the forest and no one’s around . . . will you go blind? I don’t know what the fuck that means, but . . . I’m proud to be a part of my own act.
Dude, can I bum one from you, man? I’m tryin’ to quit buyin’. Man! Newports. Menthol, I like that. It’s like smoking a Certs. Hey, you’re smoking, your breath tastes great, fuck it! Amazing – science! (singing) ‘Do do do do do do.’
And I know pornography is a sticky topic, you know, but ah . . . my girlfriend hated those porno movies. Sometimes I’d bring ’em home, cos sometimes they get mixed up in the boxes at the video stores . . . for a dollar extra.
‘Hey this isn’t Bambi.’
‘Shut up, her name is Bambi. Pay attention, maybe you’ll learn something, honey. See, that’s not hurtin’ her.
They’re liars, one and all. D’you see that? See what I’m up against? ‘What’s he talkin’ about? That doesn’t hurt her . . .’
‘Why would you wanna do that to me? If you loved me, you wouldn’t wanna do that.’
‘Well, it’s because I love you that I wanna do that.’
‘But it’ll hurt?’
‘Hey man, life fuckin’ hurts. I live it, all right? Goin’ to work, pleasin’ the kids hurts, K? But it’s Beelzebozo time and I’m off. Now put on your little green booties and be my fuck elf. Let’s go.’
(singing) ‘It’s Beelzebozo time.’
But she hates those movies. I’ll be watching one, she’ll come home: ‘That woman’s not enjoyin’ that. She is not enjoyin’ that.’ I’m going, ‘Well, honey, she’s got a pretty big grin on her face, and we know she’s not a good actress.’ (chuckles) But her attitude – I guess a lot of women’s attitudes – is that those movies are degrading to women. And I say, ‘Pff, look at the guys. Are they exalted? I couldn’t make a face like that if a car ran over my foot. She looks great. He looks like a doofus.’ Tell ya what, if I had my way, there wouldn’t be any men in pornographic films.
Man in audience: Great idea, Bill.
Bill: Yeah, I always felt it was, too. Cos, you know, the only thing more beautiful than a woman . . . is two of ’em. That’s right. Two women together in bed is God’s way of showing how much he loves us. Two men together in bed is evil. Two women together in bed is a miracle bestowed upon God’s children . . . to give us hope and joy. Two men together in bed is satanic. You know, a lot of people think that is a double standard. Ha ha ha ha! Poor misguided fools exist on this planet.
(sighs) Oh, fuck. Well, folks, I want to thank you for being here for the recording of my live comedy album. Funny material and laughter will be dubbed in later. Why pressure ourselves? I did a little longer than I was supposed to do. The reason is I always do long shows when I’m in Pittsburgh, cos I know for a fact . . . there’s nothing else going on here, so. Thank you very much. Good night. (singing) ‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah!’
Salon Interview
(October 1991)
You know, I don’t think mass murder is funny at all. Probably the opposite. But I just have this weird theory. The best kind of comedy to me is when you make people laugh at things they’ve never laughed at, and also take a light into the darkened corners of people’s minds, exposing them to the light. I thought the whole point of it was to make you feel un-alone. Many thoughts I do have are not my own thoughts. You know what I mean? They’re not secret thoughts.
Recorded at Laff Stop, Austin, TX
(14-17 December 1991)30
Thank you! How you doin’, folks? Me too. You gotta bear with me ah, I’m very tired of, very tired of ah travelling, and ah . . . very tired doing comedy, and ah . . . very tired of staring out at your vacant faces looking back at me, wanting me to fill your empty lives with humour you couldn’t possibly think of yourselves. Good evening. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It’s great to be back. Wherever I am, I always love it when I’m here. A lot’s happened, I guess. (laughs)
Hey, man! That Clarence Thomas31 thing, I guess you watched that, hey? Boy, I tell you something. I learned something very important watching that Clarence Thomas hearing, and d’you know what I learned? I don’t stand a fuckin’ chance. (laughs) Don’t even call the committee to order. It’d be a real short hearing.
‘Mr Hicks, are you familiar at all . . . with the video series called Clam-Lappers, volumes one through ninety?’
‘All of them? I don’t recall.’
‘Uh-huh. And Mr Hicks, are you familiar at all with a man named Manuel who works at the Show-World Adult
Video Parlour?’
‘Manny!’
‘Mr Hicks, they subpoena me! They subpoena me!’
(quietly) ‘Shit.’
But I tell ya, after the Pee-wee Herman32 thing and then after the Clarence Thomas hearings, pornography’s gotten a really bad name in our country. And I’d like to state for the record right now . . . I love pornography. Love it. I have tapes that are pure fuckin’ art, I’m telling ya. People fuckin’, suckin�
�, every imaginable position, the finest-looking women, fuckin’, suckin’ . . . I love it. For the record.
‘Mr Hicks, thank you for your testimony. I don’t know if we have a place for ya right now on the Supreme Court, but boy, you ever thought about becoming a senator? Come ’ere, boy! Bring some of them tapes over here. Look at that. Whoar . . . bring them over to Teddy’s33 house. Yeah, look at that there. Whoo! She go to that like a duck to water. Look at that there. How! How! How!’
That is one of my big fears in life – that I’m going to die, you know? And my parents are gonna have to come clean out my apartment . . . find that porno wing I’ve been adding on to for years. They’ll be two funerals that day . . . Just see my mom going through my stuff:
‘Look, honey. Here’s Bill when he was a Cub Scout. Look how cute my baby is! His little short pants and his little hat. Look how cute my baby was. I wonder what’s in this box over here? Rear Entry, volume one through forty?’ (makes crashing noise)
I’ll be the only guy going through the gates of heaven with his mom spanking him.
(makes slapping sound) ‘Mom, they were on sale!’
(two slaps) ‘Someone named Manny called.’
‘Oh, shit!’ (two slaps)
I don’t understand anything, so there you go. You know my problem? I watch too much news, man. That’s my prob— that’s why I’m so depressed all the time. I’ve figured it out: I watch too much CNN, man. I don’t know if you’ve ever sat around and watched CNN longer than say . . . twenty hours in one day? I don’t recommend that. Watch CNN headline news for one hour. It’s the most depressing thing you’ll ever fucking do. ‘WAR, FAMINE, DEATH, AIDS, HOMELESS, RECESSION, DEPRESSION, WAR, FAMINE, DEATH, AIDS, HOMELESS.’ Then you look out your window: (makes crickets chirruping sound). Where’s all this shit happening? Ted Turner’s making this shit up, man. Jane Fonda won’t sleep with him, he runs to a typewriter: ‘By 1992 we will all die of Aids. Read that on the air. I don’t get laid, no one gets laid.’ I’m writing Jane Fonda: ‘Will you fuck this guy so we can get some good news, please?’ I wanna see a well-laid Ted Turner newscast. ‘Hey it’s all gonna work out! Here’s sports.’