Love All the People (New Edition)

by Bill Hicks

  Bill stepped into this personalized galaxy aged 13 and hasn’t yet emerged. That was when he started writing routines. Five years later, in 1978, he joined the Comedy Workshop in his native Houston and stumbled upon a motley team of like-minded souls.

  ‘All the guys there are still my friends, still totally cool comics, and I think one day the Houston influence will be a chapter in the development of comedy. We really believe in what we’re doing, we believe it has a meaning other than making money or that it’s a cool showbiz job. Which it’s not. We have a philosophy that’s very overt. You talk about everything, don’t care if you provoke people, there’s no rules, it’s very free-form. Life can be good if you choose to make it that way, you should tell the truth, expose lies and live in the moment. It’s a very Eastern philosophy . . .’

  Bill explains his philosophy a bit more. It seems to involve space, peanuts and a stoic refusal to believe in past or future time. It does, at least, sound refreshingly optimistic.

  ‘Yes, but then again, there’s another side to me. I am a misanthropic humanist. It’s a weird conflict when you are your own bête noire. Do like people? They’re great in theory.’

  A friend of Bill’s and fellow graduate of the Houston comedy school was Sam Kinison, the controversial stand-up rant artist who died in a car smash earlier this year. Kinison was often accused of spreading hate, although Hicks himself employs far more gentle tactics.

  ‘Thank you so much for seeing that. A lot of people compared Sam and Andrew Dice Clay and I thought that was completely untrue. Sam was a satirist. Dice Clay’s a moron. Sam made some odd choices, and I guess as the venues get bigger you’ve got to get broader. You lose the subtlety, the click with the audience.’

  Hicks spent two years in LA in his early 20s and hated it. Ever the pragmatist, he decided to return there when he recently turned 30. And he still hates it.

  ‘I live in Los Angeles. I just moved there but I’m moving back to New York. I hate LA with all my heart, the sooner it falls into the ocean due to a major earthquake the better the world will be. I hate it so much, I hate people who like it. I’m going across the board on this one. I don’t like Los Angeles.’

  Stop being wishy washy and evasive, Bill, do you like LA or not?

  ‘Oh, it’s alright. Who am I to complain? Haha!’

  Oh dear, Bill Hicks is not entirely happy being a comedian. For as long as he can remember, he has yearned to be – wait for it – a rock star. He is even signed to a UK-based record label, Invasion, and is currently touring British rock venues with support from wry, introspective folkies Balloon. How serious are these musical ambitions?

  ‘Serious enough that I’m following up on it. I’m in a band, and when I get back from England I’m going into the studio to do an album of music with my comedy over the top of it. An experimental album, but I think its time has come, and I don’t think anyone else could pull it off but me and my friends.’

  Hmm. So when can we expect Bill to ditch comedy for good and go all-out rock on us?

  ‘It’s really hard to schedule this being-a-rock-star thing. There’s no date on that, ha ha!’

  Bill’s manager calls him a ‘rock ’n’ roll comic’. What does that mean?

  ‘Now it means nothing, because rock ’n’ roll is dead and so is comedy. Ha ha ha ha ha!!!’

  Not for the first time, Bill Hicks tosses back his huge insect head and erupts into fits of strange, cricket-like laughter. Now it all makes sense.

  Recorded Live at Laff Stop, Austin, TX

  (December 1992)51

  Haven’t been here in a while, man. Living out in ah Los Angeles now. LA, or as I call it, Hell A, and ah, I just like getting outa there at any point, you know, just to go anywhere, you know, for the weather. They don’t have fucking weather there, you know. Hot ’n’ sunny every day. Today: hot ’n’ sunny in LA. Yesterday: hot ’n’ sunny. EVERY DAY: hot ’n’ sunny. And they love it. ‘Isn’t it great? Every day: hot and sunny. Hot and sunny every day. Isn’t that neat?’ What are you, a fuckin’ lizard? Only reptiles feel that way about this kind of weather . . . you know? I’m a mammal. I can afford scarves, coats, cappuccino and rosy-cheeked women, and all are available for sale . . . on the streets of New York. Now. Where I will soon be returning because LA is a nightmare city and the sooner it falls into the ocean due to a major earthquake and is flushed away like the turd city it is, into the Pacific Bowl, the better this world will be. Thank you, good evening. Yes, good evening. How are you tonight? Good. Thank you. The comedy of hate, join me. It’s the newest thing. Join me. Hell, I’m spreading Christmas cheer. Welcome. Oh, won’t we party hard when LA goes kersplash? Oh, grin from ear to fuckin’ ear, won’t we? LA fell in the ocean? Ha ha ha ha ha! (singing) ‘There is a God. He loves us all so much.’

  LA is a nightmare place, man. You always meet this one guy out in LA, you always– this real smarmy guy. He always says this: ‘Yeah, I love calling back east January 1st. What are y’all doin’? Snowed in, huh? Bummer. Me? I’m out by the pool! Ha ha ha haaa!’ What a dick this guy is. It’s why I used to love to call LA when I lived in New York: What are y’all doin’? Talking to TV producers, huh? Bummer. Me? I’m reading a book! Yeah, we’re thinkin’ back east. Yeah, we’re evolving. Is that the big one I hear in the background? Bye you lizard scum! Bye! (whoosh) Ha ha ha ha! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone. Ah, it’s gone. All the shitty shows are gone, all the idiots screamin’ in the fuckin’ wind are dead, I love it. Leaving nothing but a cool, beautiful serenity called . . . Arizona Bay. Ha ha ha! That’s right. When LA falls in the fuckin’ ocean and is flushed away, all it will leave is Arizona Bay.

  So anyway. LA, man. LA, what a nightmare place. Home of the pedestrian right of way law. You ever heard of this law? It’s true. Pedestrian right of way law. What this law is – believe this or not, it’s absolutely true – if a pedestrian decides to cross a road in LA at any point, any time or anywhere on the road . . . that, they’re just walking along, ‘Oh, I wanna be over there now’, step in road, every car by law has to stop – (makes braking noise) – and let this person cross the fuckin’ road. Love to see those fuckers try that around here. Wouldn’t that be fun? Some LA tourists here . . . stepping in the road, we just speed up, turn our wipers on, you know. Dum-ch, dum-ch, dum-ch. ‘Bad call, brother. No great loss – he was from Los Angeles.’ The stupidest fuckin’ law.

  How many of y’all wondered like I did during the LA riots when those people were being pulled out of their trucks and beaten half to death, how many of y’all wondered like I did . . . step on the fucking gas, man! They’re on foot, you’re in a truck . . . I think I see a way out of this. It’s that pedestrian right of way law. Gang of youths stepped in front of their trucks, Molotov cocktails, clubs in hand, every one of these California idiots: (makes braking noise). Freeze-frame! (singing) ‘Da da da da da da da. Da da da!’ That fuckin’ Reginald Denny, that truck driver? Never gonna stop again, I guarantee you. Could be an old woman with a baby carriage crossing the road, he’s just (makes repeated truck-horn sound). ‘Not today, lady. Not today. Tried stoppin’ once, didn’t work out too well for me. Some of y’all may have caught me getting my ass kicked on the news . . . go ahead and mail that 25-dollar ticket to me, brother. I’ll take that over the 25 hundred stitches I had in my left fuckin’ CHEEK!’ That poor guy, Reginald Denny, Jesus. Everyone, all over the world, people watched this guy get his ass kicked repeatedly, and everyone in the fuckin’ world in every country was thinking the same thing: step on the goddamn gas! What are you doing? Every country – French people: ‘Why you no step on the petrol? The petrol . . . the truck, the [. . .] truck surely outrun the gang of people, I . . .’ He could have avoided all this with just one little [. . .] like that. (makes roaring noise) You’re through ’em at that point. Tap the fuckin’ peddle. (roaring noise) Chinese — ‘Why you not step on gas? Why you–’ Man. I bet you anything that Reginald Denny is an exemplary employee at that trucking service he works at, man
. His boss is thrilled to have him now.

  ‘Wow, it’s Reginald. Here again ahead of schedule. Ha ha! Unbelievable. He’s ahead of schedule every run he makes now. It’s as though . . . he ain’t stoppin’ out there. It’s incredible. I’d love to give him a raise, but every time I run up to the cab he starts backing away’ (truck horn) ‘Seems rather skittish.’

  I was over in ah England. I went over to England the day the LA riots occurred. I left LA the day the LA riots occurred. Unbelievable timing. I left LA:

  ‘Bye Bill, enjoy England.’

  ‘I will, y’all have fun while I’m gone.’

  ‘We will, Bill. Bye.’

  I land at Heathrow Airport eleven hours later, pass a newspaper stand: ‘LA Burns to Ground.’ Holy shit. Did I leave a cigarette lit? How much are these? See if my picture’s in here, man. It’s literally the timing. And I’m over there in England, you know, trying to get news of the riots, you know, and all these Brit people are trying to sympathize with me:

  ‘Oh Bill, crime is . . . horrible. Bill, if it’s any consolation, crime is horrible here too.’

  ‘Shut up. This is Hobbiton and I’m Bilbo Hicks, OK? This is the land of fairies and elves. You do not have crime like we have crime. I appreciate you tryin’ to be, you know, diplomatic but . . .’

  You gotta see English crime, if only we had crime like this, you know. It’s hilarious. You don’t know if you’re reading the front page or the comic section over there. I swear to God. I read an article, front page of the paper one day in England: ‘Yesterday some hooligans knocked over a dustbin in Shaftsbury.’

  ‘Whoo-oo!’

  ‘The hooligans are loose, the hooligans are loose. What if they become ruffians? I would hate to be a dustbin in Shaftsbury tonight. (singing) No one knows what it’s like to be a dustbin . . . in Shaftsbury . . . with hooligans.’

  What the hell are you talking about? Hooligans, ruffians – speak English! It’s Crip, Blood. I mean, I’m sure it’s a serious thing, hooligans, but it just sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Picture a bunch of pale guys with penny loafers and no socks.

  (singing) ‘We’re the hooligans.’ (Pop! )

  ‘Hey you fucker, come here.’

  ‘Nope, got to catch us. You corner me, I might become a scallywag.’

  You know, it’s— yeah. It doesn’t sound scary at all, does it? They have proper crime there. Yeah, I’d love to put the hooligans up against the Bloods in LA, that would be a . . . a short gang-battle.

  (singing) ‘We’re the hooligans.’ (Pop!)

  (three gunshots) ‘Huh? Hoola something, I didn’t catch it all. Motherfucker danced up to me and patted me on the head. A pale motherfucker, look at that thing.’

  It just wouldn’t be a long gang-battle. I’m bettin’ on the Bloods.

  But ah . . . I was over there, I was over there when all the riots were occurring, man. It was really strange. An’ I got to see while I was over there ah footage of the Rodney King trial, which I had never seen while I was here. I saw footage over there of the Rodney King trial. I think I figured out why the LA riots occurred. Did you guys see these cops testifyin’, man? Did these guys have balls, or what, man? These guys carry their balls in a wheelbarrow, man.

  ‘’Scuse me, ’scuse me . . . Man with big balls is here to testify.’

  ‘Place your right testicle on the Bible.’

  (whoosh, crash)

  This guy, Officer Coon . . . is life too fuckin’ weird or what? Officer Coon looks in the camera and actually says, ‘Oh, that Rodney King beating tape? It’s all in how you look at it.’ Courtroom murmurs, ‘Jesus, what balls! I’ve never seen balls of this magnitude, this . . . he must have a specially fitted uniform . . . in which to place these large testicles. That’s . . . that’s incredible.’

  ‘All in how you look at it, Officer . . . Coon?’

  ‘That’s right. It’s how you look at the tape.’

  ‘Well, would you care to tell the court (incredulously) how . . . you’re lookin’ at that?’

  ‘Yeah OK, sure. It’s how you look at it . . . the tape. For instance, well, if you play it backwards52 you see us help King up and send him on his way.’

  ‘Hmmmm. Not guilty!’ (bang)

  ‘’Scuse me, ’scuse me . . . Man with big balls has just been acquitted.’

  And I watch all the news reports, you know.

  ‘Today Officer Coon, Officer Nigger Hater and Officer Keep Darkie Down . . . were acquitted on all racist charges. Here’s Tom with the weather.’

  ‘Hi Susie, it’s 420 degrees Fahrenheit here in South Central LA right now. Probably a good time to get outa the fuckin’ city, Susie. There’s gusts of lead coming up Sunset.’

  And then President Bush ah came out, and said, you know, not to worry, the justice system wasn’t done with those cops yet. Yeah. Fact Bush called together a special committee made up of the surviving members of the Warren Commission to review all the evidence. Yeah. Yeah, well. They came up with the Magic Baton Theory. One baton blow just went outa hand.

  ‘See it, it’s bouncin’ off his head – help! Would you believe I’m tryin’ to stop it? Help me! Help me!’

  ‘I’m gettin’ my big balls away from that stick. Officer Keep Darkie Down, get Officer Nigger Hater to help ya.’

  ‘Come on, Officer Coon!’

  Boy, I love talkin’ about the Kennedy Assassination, man. That’s my favourite topic. You know why?

  Audience: Why?

  Bill: Because for me it’s a great archetypal example of how the totalitarian government who rules this planet partitions out information in such a way that we, the masses, are forced to base our conclusions on erroneous— Oh, I’m sorry, wrong meeting. I thought this was the meeting ah . . . at the docks, no? Oh, shit. That’s tomorrow night. All right. (laughs) Everyone followed that, that’s the frightening fuckin’ thing. Everyone here’s going, Ah-huh.’ Goddamn it! Are we that cynical? ‘Yes we are, Bill. We will take any blow you give us. GO! We too will be at the meeting at the docks tomorrow, you fucker.’ That was funny. Every one of ya, ‘What was?’ Wow. Cool.

  But I, I love Kennedy, man. I was just down in ah, just up in where, I was just in Dallas, and ah . . . you know, you can go to the sixth floor of the School Book Depository. D’you know it’s a museum called the Assassination Museum? D’you know that? True. I believe named that after the assassination, I . . . can’t be sure of the chronology here, but . . . But it’s really weird, you can actually ah, they have the windows set up to look exactly like it did on that day, and it’s really accurate, you know, cos Oswald’s not in it. (laughs) Yeah. So. I don’t know who did their research, but I’m talkin’ painstaking detail. It’s true, man. It’s called the Sniper’s Nest and it’s all glassed in with the boxes sittin’ there; you can’t actually get to the window. And the reason they did that of course, they didn’t want thousands of American tourists getting to that window each year, you know, going, ‘There’s no fuckin’ way! I can’t even see the road! Oh my God, they’re lyin’. It’s a giant totalitarian government that rules the planet via the airwaves, partitioning off information in such a way—’ Oh! There’s no fuckin’ way, man. Not unless Oswald was hanging by his toes . . . upside down from the ledge. Surely someone would have seen this. Either that or some pigeons grabbed on to him, and flew him over the motorcade. You know, there was rumors of anti-Castro pigeons seen drinking in bars the night before the assassination. Someone overheard them saying, ‘Coup! Coup!’ Aww . . . all right. Don’t get on your we-hate-puns high horse. Fuck you! That is the best goddamn pun you will ever hear! Oh God. (laughs) Was kind of a rotten trick to make a pun out of that, wasn’t it? ‘You— ohhhh. Jackin’ with us, man.’ But you know, Oswald . . . I tell you seriously, man, talkin’ about the Kennedy assassination, cos to me it really is this incredible example of something. I don’t know what yet. It’s pretty . . . engrossing to me. But ah, people’s attitudes – it’s just incredible to me, you know. People come up and, ‘Bill, quit tal
kin’ about Kennedy, man. Let it go. It’s a long time ago, would you just forget about it?’ I’m like, ‘OK, then don’t bring up Jesus to me . . . you know, as long as we’re talking shelf life here.’

  ‘Bill, you know Jesus died for you.’

  ‘Yeah, it was a long time ago. Let it go. Forget about it.’

  How ’bout this: get Pilate to release the fucking files. Quit washing your hands and release the files, Pilate. Who else was on that grassy Golgotha that day? Oh yeah, the three Roman peasants with the hundred-dollar sandals. Yeah, right!

  So what else happened, man? I’m over in fuckin’ England, and Bush fuckin’ loses!53 Must have been a secret . . . it must have been a secret service plot to keep me out the country the night he lost . . . just to protect Bush, you know . . . his eardrums from shattering when I shrieked with fuckin’ laughter. AAAH-HA HA HA HA! He’s dead! It’s dead! The Republican beast is fuckin’ dead! Twelve years of that rampaging Republican fuckin’ elephant-beast finally brought to its knees. (trumpets like elephant, then makes crashing noise) Yes! You’re dead, you fucker! You fuck! You fuck, you’re dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! We hate you! Hate you! Now do you know it? Now do you feel it? Feel the fuckin’ hate. Feel it. Call off your dogs. Call your little Vietnamese pot-bellied Rush Limbaugh back to your fold, you demon fuck! Bring Pat Buchanan back!54 Call him back, you lost! Finally . . . the Republican beast-elephant brought to its fuckin’ knees. Cos I feel like me and my friends and all the artists in the fuckin’ country were like little pygmy tribes shootin’ darts at that elephant for twelve years, and finally (elephant trumpeting, then crashing noise). Do our little pygmy dance: (singing) Na na na na na na na! Na na na na na na na! Na na na! Yes!