by Bill Hicks
So, it’s good to be here, wherever I am. Gosh, since I was here we had a war. That’s pretty fucking weird, huh? A war? Wasn’t really a war, you know. A war’s when two armies are fighting. So . . . I don’t know if you could call it a war exactly, you know. The Persian Gulf Distraction is more like it, I think. Pretty amazing thing, really. Bush turned out to be a major fucking demon – who woulda guessed? Remember when he was first President,34 he was the wimp President. D’you remember that? Cover of Newsweek. Cover of fucking Newsweek! ‘Wimp President.’ Apparently this stuck in this guy’s craw a little bit. The guy was a dynamite waiting to go off.
‘We surrender.’
‘Not good enough.’
‘We run away.’
‘Too little, too late. Call me a wimp – come on, fuckers! Come on!’
‘Hold him back.’
Those guys were in hog heaven over there, man. They had a big weapons catalogue opened up.
‘What’s G12 do, Tommy?’
‘See, it says here it destroys everything but the fillings in their teeth. Helps us pay for the war effort.’
‘Well, fuck, pull that one up.’
‘Pull up G12, please.’
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh (makes explosion noise)
‘Cool. What’s G13 do?’
Big Sears weapons catalogue. ‘Weapons for all occasions.’
You know. See, everyone got boners over the technology, and it was pretty incredible watching missiles fly down air vents. Pretty unbelievable. But couldn’t we feasibly use that same technology to shoot food at hungry people? Know what I mean? Fly over Ethiopia. ‘There’s a guy that needs a banana.’ (makes sound of missile) The Stealth Banana. Smart Fruit!
I don’t know. Once again I was watching the fucking news and it really threw me off. It depressed everyone. It’s just so scary watching the news, how they built it all out of proportion, like Iraq was ever, or could ever, possibly, under any stretch of the imagination be a threat to us . . .whatsoever, but watching the news you never woulda got that idea. Remember how it started? They kept talking about the Elite Republican Guard in these hushed tones? Like these guys were the bogeyman or something. ‘Yeah, we’re doing well now, but we have yet to face the Elite Republican Guard.’ Like these guys were twelve-feet-tall desert warriors. (makes crashing footstep noise) ‘Never lost a battle.’ (crashing footsteps) ‘We shit bullets.’ (crashing footsteps) Yeah, well, after two months of continuous carpet bombing and not one reaction at all from them, they became simply the Republican Guard. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Not nearly as elite as we may have led you to believe. And after another month of bombing they went from the Elite Republican Guard, to the Republican Guard, to the Republicans made this shit up about there being guards out there.
‘We hope you enjoyed your fireworks show.’
‘It was so pretty, and it took our mind off of domestic issues.’
The Persian Gulf Distraction.
People said ‘Uh-uh, Bill. Iraq had the fourth largest army in the world.’ Yeah, maybe, but you know what? After the first three largest armies, there’s a real big fucking drop-off, all right? The Hare Krishnas are the fifth largest army in the world. And they’ve already got our airports, OK? So. Think that’s the greater threat right now. Mr Onion-head in Terminal C is scaring the shit out of me. Get him away from me.
Isn’t that an amazing thing, though? And you know, the amazing thing, obviously the disparity in the casualties. Iraq: 150 thousand casualties; USA: seventy-nine. Iraq: 150 thousand; USA: seventy . . . nine. Does that mean if we had sent over eighty guys we still woulda won that fucking thing or what? One guy in a ticker-tape parade.
‘I did it! Hey! You’re welcome, hu-huh.’
‘Good work, Tommy. How’d you do it?’
‘I pulled up G12. It was in a catalogue. Worked like a charm, hu-huh.’
You know, my biggest problem with the whole thing was the blood lust that everyone, that came out of everyone, you know? This blood lust, man. It’s really unbelievable. Like I was over in England – you ever been to England anyone? Been to England? No one has handguns in England, not even the cops. True or false? True. Now! In England last year they had fourteen deaths from handguns. Fourteen. Now! United States, I think you know how we feel about handguns. Whoo! I’m getting a warm, tingly feeling just saying the fucking word to be honest with you. I swear to you, I’m hard. 23,000 deaths from handguns. Let’s go through those numbers again cos they’re a little baffling at first glance. England, where no one has guns: fourteen deaths. United States – and I think you know how we feel about guns; whoo! I’m gettin’ a stiffy – 23,000 deaths from handguns. But there’s no connection . . . and you’d be a fool and a communist to make one. There’s no connection between having a gun and shooting someone with it, and not having a gun and not shooting someone. There’ve been studies made, and there is no connection at all there. Yes. It’s absolute truth. You know, fourteen deaths from handguns– probably American tourists, too.
‘Call this a sandwich? (three gunshots) You don’t boil pizza.’ (two gunshots)
‘That’s the way we eat here! S’way we eat here!’ (three gunshots) ‘This food sucks!’ (three gunshots)
And boy, does it suck. OK. Great. If I’d had a gun, I would have been number fifteen on that fucking list. You know, fourteen— OK, though admittedly last year in England they had 23,000 deaths per soccer game. All right. OK, OK. Not saying every system is flawless, I’m saying if you’re in England, don’t go to a goddamned soccer game and you’re coming home, OK?
It’s weird. They don’t have guns in England, but they have a very high crime rate, which tells you how polite the fucking English are.
‘Give me your wallet.’
‘All right.’
At least no one was hurt. (laughs) How d’you have a crime rate and no weapons, man? Does the guy walk into a bank:
‘Give me all your money . . . I’ve got a soccer ball!’
‘Shit, Ian, that’s a Spalding. He’s serious. Hand over the pounds!’
I just don’t understand this blood lust cos, you know, I know the world seems really frightening at times, but I think we’re gonna do OK. I’ll tell you a true story, a true fucking story, man, about blood lust. I was down in Alabama, and I was playing a town called Fyffe, Alabama, last year. And they wanted me there to host their annual Rickets Telethon or something, I don’t know what the fuck it was, but anyway . . . it was great to be there and ah . . . anyway, this is absolutely true: last year in Fyffe, Alabama,35 they had all these UFO sightings. And apparently everyone in this town saw these UFOs. All right? Which really pissed me off, cos when I was there . . . about forty people saw me. But there was no advance advertising, no publicity. That’s a big market for me. Anyway, I’m curious about UFOs, so I ask people there what it was like. And this guy said, ‘Oh, man, it was incredible. People came from miles around to look at ’em. Lotta people came armed.’ People are bringing shotguns . . . to UFO sightings. Kind of brings a whole new meaning to that phrase ‘You ain’t from around here, are ya, boy?’ I said to the guy, ‘Why did y’all bring shotguns to UFO sightings?’ Seems to me there’s gonna be a point in our development or evolution when you put your guns aside. You know what I mean? Don’t you think that would happen just fuckin’ once? The guy said, ‘Well, we didn’t wanna be abducted.’ I’m thinking, ‘Yeah, and leave all this?’ (chuckles) Dude, if I lived in Fyffe, Alabama, I’d be on my hands and knees praying for abduction every goddamn morning, all right? And believe me, I would not be picky. Greyhound. Abduct me. But I said, ‘What do you mean, abducted?’ He said, ‘Well, they abduct people and they perform scientific and medical experiments on ’em.’ I said, ‘Well, maybe we’ll be lucky and it’s some kind of sterility/dentistry programme they got going. Maybe they come down here, castrate ya, straighten your teeth and split. Sort of a clean-up-the-universe pact.’ He said, ‘Huh?’ I was almost sure I was talkin’ to that dude.
I tell you, too, that’s starti
ng to depress me about UFOs. The fact that they cross galaxies, or wherever they come from, to visit us, and always end up in places like Fyffe, Alabama. Maybe these are not super-intelligent beings, man. Maybe they’re like hillbilly aliens. Some intergalactic Joad family36 or something. ‘Oh, we don’t wanna land in New York or LA. Nah, we just had a long trip – we’re gonna kick back and whittle some.’ Oh my God, they’re idiots. ‘We’re gonna enter our mother ship in the tractor pull, hu-huh.’ My God, we’re being invaded by rednecks. My biggest fear.
Last thing I wanna see is a flying saucer up on blocks in front of some trailer, you know? Be depressing? Some bumper sticker on it: ‘They’ll get my ray gun when they pry my cold, dead, eighteen-fingered hand off of it.’ See, in England, man, they had these crop circle things. Did you hear about that? These crop circles that show up, you know? Which two guys have since claimed they were responsible for, but I believe they’re aliens too. But they think aliens actually landed around Stonehenge and take off, and I asked people what it was like over there. And they said, ‘Oh, it’s incredible. People came from miles around. Lot of them brought soccer balls.’ Would you let the aliens land, please? They might be here to pick me up.
I don’t care what you believe, but you’ve got to admit beliefs are odd. You know what I mean? You have to admit that. A lot of Christians wear crosses around their necks. You think when Jesus comes back he ever wants to see a fucking cross? Kind of like going up to Jackie Onassis with a rifle pendant on, you know?
‘Just thinkin’ of John, Jackie. Just thinkin’ of John . . . Just thinkin’ of John, baby. We love him.’
‘Don’t love me that much.’
Hey man . . . killer idea. You guys like going to the movies? You, you, you do? Three of you do? I, I love the fucking movies. Love ’em. Now, I’m watching Terminator 2 – d’you ever see that movie? Well, I’m watching, and I’m thinking to myself, you know what? There’s no way they’re ever going to be able to top these stunts in a movie again. You cannot top this shit . . . unless . . . they start using terminally ill people as stuntmen in pictures. Well, hear me out. Cos I know to some of ya this may sound a little cruel. ‘Aww, Bill, terminally ill stuntpeople? That’s cruel.’ You know what I think cruel is? Leaving your loved ones to die in some sterile hospital room, surrounded by strangers. Fuck that! Put ’em in the movies! What? You want your grandmother dying like a little bird in some hospital room? Her translucent skin so thin you can see her last heartbeat work its way down her blue veins? Or do you want her to meet Chuck Norris?
‘Hey how come you’ve dressed my grandmother up as a mugger?’
‘Shut up and get off the set. Action! Push her towards Chuck.’
(fight noises)
‘Wow, he kicked her head right off her body. Did you see that? Did you see my Grammy?’
She’s out of her misery; you’ve seen the greatest film of all time. I’m still feeling some resistance to this here. What’s up? ‘Ugh ugh.’ You and your fake fuckin’ sympathy. OK, how about these guys are being executed? Don’t do that. Poison, electrocute – how cruel? And unimaginative. Put ’em in the movies! ‘Jeffrey Dahmer,37 for your crimes against humanity of which you’ve been found guilty, I sentence you . . . to Wes Craven’s next picture. Ha ha ha ha ha!’ (screams) OK, not one of my more popular theories. But just do me a big favour: don’t ever say you love film as much as I. I think we’ve found your limit.
So what else, folks? I smoke ah . . . (clears throat) if this bothers anyone, I recommend you looking around the world in which we live and . . . shutting your fucking mouth. Either that or suffer a facial burn – your choice. After all, this is America, Land of Freedom, so you have that option ahead of you. I now realize I smoke for simply one reason, and that is . . . spite. I hate you non-smokers with all of my little black fuckin’ heart . . . you obnoxious, self-righteous, whinin’ little fucks. My biggest fear if I quit smoking is that I’ll become one of you. Now don’t take that wrong.
How many non-smokers do we have here tonight by round of applause? Non-smokers? (big round of applause) Few of ya. Good, cos I have something to tell ya. I do. I have something to tell you non-smokers and this is for you and you only . . . because I know for a fact that you don’t know this. And I feel it’s my duty to pass on information at all times so that we can all learn, evolve . . . and get the fuck off this planet. Non-smokers – this is for you and you only. Ready? Non-smokers die . . . every day. Sleep tight. You see, I know you entertain some type of eternal life fantasy because you do not smoke cigarettes. May I be the first to (pop) pop that little fucking bubble of yours? And send you hurtling back to the truth? You’re dead too. Ah-ha ha ha ha ha! Ah! Ah! Have a good evening. Ah-ha! And you know what doctors say? ‘Shit, if only you smoked – we’d have the technology to help you.’ It’s you people dying from nothing that are screwed. I got all sorts of neat gadgets waiting for me, man. Oxygen tent, iron lung. It’s like going to Sharper Image38 . . . Major rationalizations. (laughs)
We live in such a weird culture, man. Does anyone remember this? When Yul Brynner died and came out with that commercial after he was dead? ‘I’m Yul Brynner, and I’m dead now.’ What the fuck’s this guy sellin’? I’m all ears. ‘I’m Yul Brynner, and I’m dead now cos I smoked cigarettes.’ OK, pretty scary. But they could have done that with anyone. They could have done it with that Jim Fixx guy, too. Remember that guy? That health nut who died while jogging? Ho, I don’t remember seeing his commercial.
‘I’m Jim Fixx, and I’m dead now . . . an’ I don’t know what the fuck happened. I jogged every day, ate nothing but tofu, swam 500 laps every morning – I’m dead. Yul Brynner drank, smoked and got laid every night of his life – he’s dead. Shit! Yul Brynner smokin’, drinkin’, girls are sittin’ on his cueball noggin every night of his life. I’m runnin’ around a dewy track at dawn . . . and we’re both fuckin’ dead. Yul used to pass me on his way home in the morning. Big long limousine. Two girls blowin’ him. Cigarette in one hand; drink in the other. One day that life’s gonna get to you, Yul.’
They’re both dead. Yeah, but what a healthy-looking corpse you were, Jim. Look at the hamstrings on that corpse! Look at the sloppy grin on Yul’s corpse! Yul Brynner lived his life. Sure, he died a 78-pound stick figure, OK. There are certain drawbacks. Oh, man.
People say the stupidest things sometimes, too. ‘Hey man, you quit smoking, you get your sense of smell back.’ I live in New York City, I got news for you: I don’t want my fucking sense of smell back.
(sniffs) ‘Is that urine? (sniffs) I think I smell a dead guy. Honey, look at that guy! Covered in urine – check this out! Someone just peed on this guy – that’s fresh! Just think, if I’d been smoking I never would have found him. (sniffs) A urine-covered dead fella. What are the odds? Thank God I quit smoking. Now I can enjoy the wonders of New York, honey. Look! (sniffs) Ahhh.’
I’m Bill Hicks and I’m dead now . . . cos I smoked cigarettes. Cigarettes didn’t kill me, a bunch of non-smokers kicked the shit out of me one night. I tried to run, they had more energy than I. I tried to hide, they heard me wheezing. Many of them smelled me.
(sniffs) ‘There he is! Get him!’
(wheezes)
‘Oh, he’s hardly fucking moving. This is pathetic!’
(wheezes)
‘Look, he’s still trying to get away. He’s like a roach. Step on him!’
(wheezes)
‘Squash him!’
(wheezes)
‘Let’s kill him and pee on him. Yeah!’
Man in audience: You got a bad attitude.
Bill: (singing) ‘We’ve only just begun.’ I got alllll sorts of new dark shit for you, my man. You ever danced with the Devil in the moonlight? I don’t know what my attitude is. I’m trying to work on it all the time, you know. I’m drinking water tonight. That’s pretty amazing. Water. It’s really weird how your life changes, you know what I mean? Water. Four years ago – opium. Ha ha ha! Isn’t that weird? I mean, really . . .
night and day. Night and fucking day!
Some of y’all may remember me as a drinker, ah . . . I was a weekend drinker, you know. I’d start on Saturday, end on Friday, and ah . . . thought I was controlling it there, but. I don’t drink any more. I don’t do drugs any more either than . . . I’d say the average touring funk band. If I had to add it up. I don’t do drugs any more, either.
But I’ll tell you something about drugs – I used to do drugs – but I’ll tell you something honestly about drugs – honestly – and I know it’s not a very popular idea, you don’t hear it very often any more, but it is the truth. I had a great time doing drugs. Sorry. Never murdered anyone, never robbed anyone, never raped anyone, never beat anyone, 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? Why don’t I get a commercial? Why’s it always that other guy that gets the commercial? ‘I lost my job, then my house, then my wife, then my car, then my kids. Don’t do drugs.’ Well, I’m definitely not doin’ them with you. Fuck! Man, you’re bumming me out. Get him out of here. Who invited Mr Doom over? Get that guy outa here! That guy by the dip – he’s bumming everyone out. He hasn’t stopped talking– I wish he’d lose his fucking voice. I mean, I’ve lost my car before, OK. Found it the next day, you know, no biggy I don’t think that warranted a commercial. ‘I lost my car and ah . . . no, there it is by that dumpster. Ha ha ha! Forget it! See you tomorrow!’ (makes sound of truck horn) Rrrrrrrrrrrr. You know, I’ve lost stuff. I’m not saying that.