Love All the People (New Edition)

by Bill Hicks

  I knew we were in trouble when that damn that . . . egg commercial. I knew. That was the government’s take on drugs, you know, we’re fucked, believe me. ‘Here’s ya brain.’ I’ve seen a lot of weird shit on drugs. I’ve never, ever, ever, ever, ever looked at an egg and thought it was a fucking brain. Not once. All right? I have seen UFOs split the sky like a sheet, but I have never, ever, ever 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 is no such thing as death, but I have never, ever, ever, ever looked at an egg and thought it was a fuckin’ brain. 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? That sounds neat. Did I quit too soon? What is that? CIA stash? You see the guy in that commercial, the guy’s got a beer gut. ‘All right, this is it. Look up, man. This is ya brain. I ain’t doing this again. That’s ya br–’ The guy’s drunk doing the fucking commercial, man. ‘Here’s ya 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 as a fucking egg, all right? I see the UFOs around it, but that is a goddamned egg in the middle. There’s a hobbit eating it, but goddamn it, that hobbit is eating a fucking egg. He’s on a unicorn, but that no, that ah, oop, that’s a fucking egg. Yeah. How dare you have a wino tell me not to do drugs.

  Woman in audience: Why did you quit?

  Bill: Why did I quit? Because after you’ve been taken aboard a UFO it’s kinda hard to top that, all right? You know, they have Alcoholics Anonymous, they don’t have Aliens Anonymous. Tell you what, though, going to AA meetings – which I have to do – but ah going there and hearing people talk about their fucking booze stories, you know. I’m sitting there.

  ‘You know, I love the taste of gin, it’s just so good.’

  ‘Fuck you, I’ve been on a UFO. Fuck off! I went drinking with aliens, you fucker! Shut up!’

  ‘I lost my wife.’

  ‘I LOST AN ALIEN CULTURE WHO WANTED TO TAKE ME TO THE PLANET ARTURUS.39 FUCK YOU!’

  I mean, I don’t know if I’ve gotten the resentment, you know, forgiveness part down in the programme, but . . . (singing) ‘One day at a time.’

  No, I just cannot, you know, believe in a war against drugs when they have anti-drug commercials on TV all day long, followed by ‘This Bud’s for you.’ I got news for ya, folks: a1) alcohol is a drug. b2) And here’s the rub: alcohol kills more people than crack, coke and heroin . . . combined each year. So, thanks for inviting me to your little alcoholic drug den here tonight . . . you fine, upstanding citizens, you. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Now! You know what? If I was gonna have a drug be legal it would not be alcohol. You know why? There’s better drugs and better drugs for you. That’s a fact. So you can stop your internal dialogue. ‘Oh, wait a minute, Bill. Alcohol’s an acceptable form of social interaction, which for thousands of years has been the norm under which human beings have congregated and formed social (drops to a mumble) . . .’ Shut the fuck up. Your denial is beneath you, and thanks to the use of hallucinogenic drugs . . . I see through you. Pot is a better drug than alcohol – fact – and I’ll prove it to you. You’re at a ball game, you’re at a concert, someone’s really violent, aggressive and obnoxious. Are they drunk or are they smoking pot?

  Audience: Drunk!

  Bill: The one and only correct answer. Tell ’em what they won, John. I’ve never seen people on pot get in a fight because it is fucking impossible.

  ‘Hey buddy.’

  ‘Hey what.’

  End of argument. Say you get in a car accident and you’ve been smoking pot. You’re only going four miles an hour. (makes sound of crash)

  ‘Shit, we hit something.’

  ‘Forgot to open the garage door, man.’

  ‘Got to get the garage door open so Dominos knows we’re home.’

  But I’ll tell you the truth. I have never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. That rang true, now. I’m not talking about the reasons the government tells us, cos – I hope you know this; I think you do – all governments are lying cocksuckers. Hope you know that. Good. All right.

  I mean, marijuana grows everywhere, 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. 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! 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 I’m not promoting the use of drugs, believe me. I’m not. I’ve had bad times on drugs, OK? I mean look at this haircut – fuck! I tell ya, I live in New York now, man. I tell you, man. The war on drugs has definitely taken a ceasefire there, it’s . . . I mean, it’s incredible. They sell drugs out loud on the streets. ‘Heroin! Heroin! Heroin! Coke! Coke! Coke! Smoke! Smoke! Heroin! Heroin!’ Those guys bug the shit out of me. I’m walking down the street one day. This guy’s walking ahead of me, passes one of those dealers. He looks at ’em, he goes, ‘Heroin! Heroin! Heroin!’ I pass him, he looked at me, goes, ‘Glue!’ ‘I can afford heroin, you fucker. I’m doin’ laundry right now. As soon as my shirt’s out of the cleaners I’m coming back and buying some of that shit from you.’ He embarrassed me to death, all right? I was mortified. Glue. Fucker. Where’s a bank machine? Come ’ere. Come ’ere Mr Dealer, come ’ere! I’m gonna show you my balance. Then I’m gonna buy heroin from that little kid across the street. Fuck you! New York’s a rather tense town.

  See, I think drugs have done some good things for us, I really do. And if you don’t believe drugs have done good things for us, do me a favor. Go home tonight, take all your albums, all your tapes, and all your CDs, and burn ’em. Cos you know what? The musicians who made all that great music that’s enhanced your lives throughout the years . . . rrrrrrrrreal fucking high on drugs. Man, the Beatles were so high they let Ringo sing a coupla tunes. Tell me they weren’t partyin’. ‘We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine . . .’ We all live in a— 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 fucking song.

  ‘John, get Ringo. He’s in the corner.’

  ‘Put him— ooh, look at him scoot. Grab him!’

  ‘Hook his bell bottom! Hook his bell bottom!’

  ‘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 did have a positive effect.

  OK, and I’ll tell you what else. I’m gonna extend the theory to our generation now, so it’s more applicable. The musicians today who don’t do drugs, and in fact speak out against it? ‘We’re rock against drugs.’ Boy, they suck. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Suck. Ball-less, soulless, spiritless, corporate little bitches, suckers of Satan’s cock, each and every one of ’em. (makes snorting, snarling noise) (singing) ‘Suckin’ Satan’s pecker.’ Suck it! Put that big scaly pecker down ya gullet. ‘We’re rock against drugs, cos that’s what George Bush wants.’ (snorting, snarling noise) That’s what we want, isn’t it? Government-approved rock and roll? Don’t you want to be in a concert one night, look to your right and see Dan fucking Quayle right next to you, man? You know you’re partying then, you know you’re on the edge. ‘Fuck it, the Quayle monster’s here. There ain’t no coming back. We might be up to eleven tonight. Fuck this!’ ‘We’re rock stars who do Pepsi Cola commercials.’ (snorting, snarling noise) Luckily Satan’s dick has many heads, so all these little de
mon piglets can nuzzle up and suckle all at once. Here comes a fella named Vanilla Ice. (snorting, snarling noise) Here comes MC Hammer. (snorting, snarling noise) Here’s Madonna with two heads. (snorting, snarling noise) (singing) ‘Suckin’ Satan’s pecker.’ Suck it! It’s only your dignity – suck it! It’s only your dignity – suck it!

  MC Hammer – oh, I’m sorry, it’s Hammer. He dropped the ‘MC I can’t wait till he drops the ‘Hammer’ too. How ’bout this? Drop it all. Good.

  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 want to go the traditional clown/balloon animal route this year. Might wanna look me up: Beelzebozo. Clown from hell.

  ‘Hi kids. It’s Beelzebozo time. Tell me something: who here out of you young ’uns has never smoked a cigarette? Come ’ere, kids. What’s your name?’

  ‘Tommy.’

  ‘Tommy How old are ya?’

  ‘Five.’

  ‘Five years old. And you mean to tell Beelzebozo you’re not smokin’ cigarettes yet? Come here, Tommy.’

  (sucking, then wheezing sound)

  ‘Hold it in.’

  (sucking sound) ‘Mummy!’

  ‘Nope, it’s Beelzebozo time. Tell me something: who here out of you young ’uns has never watched a skin flick? Come here, kids.’ Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. ‘See them, them’s titties.

  Hu-huh.’

  ‘Mummy!’

  ‘That is your mummy. Come on! It’s Beelzebozo time. Clown from hell.’

  See, I don’t know. I’m just different, you know. Like, remember those summer trips you’d take with your folks, growing up? Remember those nightmare fucking excursions, you know? Instead of doing that . . . why don’t families take mushrooms? Stay home and trip together. It’d be a much better trip. The home movies would be tonnes more fun. Just twenty minutes of someone’s thumb. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  ‘You see, son, the thumb is opposable. That’s why we can use tools and live indoors.’

  Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  ‘Speaking of indoors, you get the impression the walls are breathing?’

  ‘I do, Mom.’

  Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  ‘It’s like we’re all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively.’

  Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  ‘There is no such thing as death,40 son. It’s only illusion that we are separate beings. In actuality we are all one kind.’ Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ‘God is love and love is all there is, and if that’s all there is there can be no opposite.’

  ‘Cool, Dad.’

  Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  I think that’d be such a neat trip . . . in a way, with your parents. I think it might be more of an . . . eye opener. Perhaps a third-eye opener. Ha ha ha ha!

  That’s the problem with this country. Ah, one of them. There are many. But this whole issue of sexuality and pornography, which I don’t understand what pornography is, I really don’t. To me pornography is, you know, spending all your money and not educating the people in America, but spending it instead on weapons. That’s pornographic to me. That’s totally filthy, and etcetera, etcetera, down the line . . . you all in your fucking hearts know the goddamn arguments. OK, good. But no one knows what pornography is. Supreme Court says pornography is any act that has no artistic merit and causes sexual thoughts. That’s their definition essentially. No artistic merit. Causes sexual thought. Hmm. Sounds like every commercial on television, doesn’t it? You know, when I see those two twins on that Double Mint commercial . . . I’m not thinkin’ of gum. I am thinking of chewing. Maybe that’s the connection they’re trying to make. What? You’ve all seen that Bush beer commercial? The girl in the short hotpants opens the beer bottle on her belt buckle, leaves it there, and it foams over her hand and over the bottle. And the voiceover goes, ‘Get yerself a Bush.’ Hmm. You know what that looks like? Nah, no way.

  I’ll tell you the commercial they’d like to do if they could, and I guarantee if they could they’d do this right here. Here’s the woman’s face – beautiful. Camera pulls back – naked breast. Camera pulls back, she’s totally naked . . . legs apart. Two fingers right here. And it just says ‘Drink Coke.’ Now, I don’t know the connection here . . . but goddamn if Coke isn’t on my shopping list that week.

  ‘Dr Pepper.’

  ‘Snickers satisfyin’.’ (sings opening notes to ‘Satisfaction’)

  Damned if I’m not buyin’ these products. My teeth are rotting out of my head, I’m glued to the television, I’m as big as a fucking couch. ‘More Snickers, more Coke.’

  That’s what I find ironic, too, is that people who’re against these things that cause sexual thoughts are generally fundamentalist Christians . . . who also believe you should be fruitful and multiply. Boy, they walk a tightrope every day, don’t they? (singing) ‘Da da da da da da da.’ How do we be fruitful and multiply and not think about it? Ha ha! We could sing hymns during it. (singing) ‘One stroke at a time, sweet Jesus. One stroke at a time, sweet Lord.’

  I did that joke in Alabama in Fyffe and these three rednecks met me after the show. ‘Hey buddy! Come here! Mr Funny Man, come here! Hey buddy, we’re Christians. We don’t like what you said.’ I said, ‘Then forgive me.’ Later, when I was hanging from the tree . . .

  Here is my final point. Oh thank you, God. About drugs, about alcohol, about pornography – whatever that is – what business is it of yours what I do, read, buy, see, or take into my body, as long as I do not harm another human being on this planet? And for those of you out there who’re having a little moral dilemma in your head how to answer that question, I’ll answer it for ya. None of your fucking business! Take that to the bank, cash it and go fuckin’ on a vacation out of my life. But see, here’s their argument to that each and every time: ‘But we have to protect the children, we have to protect the children.’ Let me tell you something: children are smarter than any of us. You know how I know that? I don’t know one child with a full-time job and children. Yeah. They’re quick these kids, man. They’re fucking quick.

  But where did this veneration of childbirth come from? I missed that meeting, I’ll tell ya that. ‘Oh, childbirth is such a miracle. It’s such a miracle.’ Wrong. No more a miracle than eating food and a turd coming out of your ass. You know what a miracle is? A miracle’s raising a kid who doesn’t talk in a fucking movie theatre. That, that . . . there’s your goddamn miracle. If it were a miracle then not every nine months any ying-yang in the world could drop a litter of these mewling fucking cabbages on the planet, and in case you have not checked the single-mom statistics lately, the miracle is spreading like fucking wildfire. Hallelujah! Trailer parks all over America. Fillin’ up with little miracles. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

  ‘Look at my little miracles.’ Thunk!

  ‘Fillin’ up my trailer like a sardine can. Look at them.’

  Thunk!

  ‘You know what’d be a real miracle? If I could remember your daddy’s name, goddamn it.’

  Thunk!

  ‘I guess I’ll have to call you Trucker Junior. That’s all I remember ’bout your daddy, was his fuzzy little pot belly riding on top of me, shooting his caffeine-ridden semen into my belly to produce my little waterhead miracle baby child.’

  Thunk!

  ‘There’s your brother: Pizza Boy Delivery Junior.’

  Thunk!

  ‘There’s your other brother: Exterminator Junior.’

  Thunk!

  ‘There’s your other brother: Will Work For Food Junior.’

  Thank you very much. Good night!

  Interview with Funny Man

  Bill Hicks

  By Jimmy O’Brien

  (November/December 1991)

  Acomic’s comic is a rare commodity. Bill Hicks fits this description wonderfully, from his on target assaults on the injustices perpetrated by a government, to his not too genteel solution of the problem of an aging America.

  We caught up with Bi
ll at a local recording studio while he was putting the finishing touches on his second album, scheduled for release on 15 January [1992] for Invasion Records.

  FM: When did you first realize you wanted to be a comic?

  BH: I was 13 years old when I decided to do comedy.

  FM: Was there a triggering incident?

  BH: Yeah, there was. I was watching late night TV and a Woody Allen movie came on, and there was something about it that made me laugh so hard and it just struck me. So the next day I was in a bookstore and I picked up a copy of Without Feathers, by Woody Allen and I just fell on the floor. I couldn’t get out of the bookstore, I was screaming and laughing so hard. I don’t know why I related to Woody Allen. I’m not Jewish. I’m not short. I’m not a schlemel. But I really related to him comically. I started writing jokes like him. Although, thinking back, I could relate to his women problems.

  FM: How long did you do open mics before your first paying gig?

  BH: Five shows.

  FM: Five shows!

  BH: Yeah! (laughs) I tell ya man, it was a unique situation in Houston (where I grew up), comedy wise. I mean, I literally walked in and said, ‘How do you do this?’ And they said, ‘Can you work this weekend and we’ll split the door?’ Nobody knew what it took for 45 minutes of material, certainly not the audience, not like now. This was back in ’78, before everything broke loose.