by Bill Hicks
‘Cool and flavourful.’ (snorting and snarling)
‘Tonight on the show, er, we have Joey Lawrence and Patrick Duffy.’
Yes, tonight’s the night! Fuck, if that was his line-up he’d use an Uzi in his mouth. (makes machine pistol sound) Rrrrrrrrrrrrr! Just chewing fucking lead. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrr! ‘What have I done with my fucking life?’ Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! ‘I used to be funny!’ Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Arrrrrrrrrrr! Oh, quick, change his clip! Arrrrrrrrrrrrr! Arrrrrrrrrrrr! Arrrrrrrrrrrr! He’s a fucking blood-sprinkler! Pow! Pow! Pow! Arrrrrrrrrrrrr! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! The next night: (singing) ‘ba da da da da. Ba ba ba da!’
‘Ed, Ed ah, did you enjoy your vacation?’
‘You are correct, sir.’
‘Doc, that’s a really nice red coat. Is that the colour of it or is that Jay’s brains?’
Ha ha ha ha ha! ‘He’s just jealous cos he’s never been on the show.’ You’re so right.
Do a commercial, you’re off the artistic roll call, every word you say is suspect, you’re a corporate whore and ah, end of story. And yes, I have been offered commercials, so I’m not jealous, and I turned them all down because I’m not a salesman. Aha, oop! And I don’t need money that is built on blood. So.
Man in audience: Who offered to you?
Bill: Well, in England I did this really . . . this is classic England. I got offered a . . . this is the product. You ready? Orange drink. I’m going, ‘What’s the name of it?’ ‘Orange drink.’ Classic England, right? Just such a socialist fucking nightmare over there, right? (laughs) That’s the drink. ‘It’s orange drink.’ I said, ‘Yeah, you really got my act down good, guys. That’ll be great. You know, when I’m ah done ranting about elite power that rules the planet under a totalitarian government that uses the media in order to keep people stupid, my throat gets parched. That’s why I drink orange drink.’ Yeah, right. See, don’t you see how it’ll all fit in. Don’t you see how every word I said would be hollow and filled with nothing.
You do a commercial, you’re off the artistic roll call for ever, and that goes for everyone . . . except Willie Nelson. Twenty-four-million-dollar tax bill, Willie was a little looser than the rest of us. I just avert my eyes when he sings about tacos, you know what I mean? It’s so fucking . . . (singing) ‘I’m sitting here, selling tacos, oh waiting for the woman in the rose tattoo. My butt is so loose.’ Oh, this is so sad. Is he done yet? No. (singing) I love picante and iced tea. Taco Bell hasn’t called me. Oh, my butt hurts so bad.’ Oh, this is so sad. Is he finished yet? No? (singing) ‘I love nachos with chips ’n’ dippin’, love the things that I can get ’n, oh my butt is hurtin’ me.’ Oh, poor Willie. Poor fucking Willie. Oh God, let’s pass the hat. Get him off the Taco Bell commercial! We gotta save Willie!
You know what I mean? You want a better world, ladies and gentlemen? Legalize pot right now. You wanna end the deficit? Legalize pot right now. I am so sick of hearing about the goddamn deficit, I could fucking puke blood. (vomiting noise) There ain’t no fucking deficit, it’s a FUCKING lie and it’s a FUCKING illusion in the first place. But you wanna end it, you wanna end it, legalize pot: biggest cash crop in America. Deficit’s gone. But I am so sick of hearing about, ‘Well, your leaders misspent your hard-earned tax dollars, so you, the people, now have to tighten your belts and we got to start paying this back, because we, your leaders, misspent your money.’ You know what’d make tightening my belt a little easier? If I could tighten it around Jesse Helms’61 scrawny little chicken-neck. Ah, I feel better about the sacrifice right now! You fucking, tobacco-pushing, motherfucker! You are the worst fucking drug-dealer in the fucking world! You scrawny, rightwing, fear-mongering piece of sucker of Satan’s COCK! YOU SUCK SATAN’S COCK! YOU FUCKING CHICKEN-NECKED LITTLE FUCKING CRACKER! I’d tighten my belt if that were the case. I’d eat bolony for a week, you know what I mean? I’d sacrifice. Boy, Jesse Helms. Isn’t that a great one, i’n’t he? Just another little fevered ego tainting our collective unconscious. Cos you know, anyone – like Swaggart62 – anyone that far to the right is hiding a very deep and dark secret. You do know that, right? I’m an armchair fucking psychologist, but anyone that – you know when Jesse Helms finally dies, he’s gonna commit suicide first of all in a washtub out back underneath a pecan tree. He’s gonna slash his wrists and he’s gonna write in blood, ‘I been a bad boy.’ But you know they’re gonna find the skins of young children drying in his attic. Swarms of horseflies going in and out of the eaves, and on CNN, over and over, his wife going, ‘I always wondered about Jesse’s collection of little shoes.’ Anyone that far to the right is fucking hiding a deep, dark secret.
Speaking of Satan, ah . . . I was watching Rush Limbaugh the other day. Doesn’t Rush Limbaugh remind you of one of those gay guys who likes to lay in a tub while other men pee on him? Am I the only one? Can’t you see his fat body in a tub while Reagan, Quayle, and Bush just chhhhhhhhhhh! Just stand around pissing on him, and he can’t– his little piggly-wiggly dick can’t get hard.
‘Aargh, aargh, I can’t get hard. Reagan, pee in my mouth.’
‘Well, how’s that, Rush?’
Still can’t get hard, so they call in Barbara Bush. She takes her pearls off, puts ’em up his ass, then squats over him, undoes her girdle, her wrinkled, flaccid labia unfolds halfway down to her knees, like some ball-less scrotum. ‘Aargh, aargh, aargh.’ She squeezes out a link into his mouth. Finally his dick gets half-hard. ‘Ohhhh.’ A little clear bubble forms on the end with a maggot inside. The maggot pops the bubble and runs off and joins a pro-life group somewhere. Am I the only one who sees that, or . . . or not? Thank God I’m not alone. Thank God I had the insight to notice Rush Limbaugh is a scat-muncher. He munches scat. (laughs) ‘Jesus, Bill.’ I’m so proud of that little dark poetry there. Started, I came out with the word ‘scat-muncher’ and it went from there, and I just . . . immediately thought of Rush.
Folks, it’s time to evolve ideas. You know, evolution did not end with us growing thumbs. You do know that, right? Didn’t end there. We’re at the point now where we’re going to have to evolve ideas. The reason the world’s so fucked up is we’re undergoing evolution. And the reason our institutions, our traditional religions are all crumbling is because they’re no longer relevant. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! They’re no longer relevant. So it’s time for us to create a new philosophy and perhaps even a new religion, you see. And that’s OK, cos that’s our right, cos we are free children of God with minds who can imagine anything, and that’s kind of our role. How do you evolve ideas? I’ll give you an example right here. By the way, there are more dick jokes coming: please relax. I know I’m starting to lose them a little bit here with this shit, I’m like digging a fucking hole right now. And another thing . . . ‘Where the hell did Bill go? He dug himself right through the planet.’ I can hear people heckling in Chinese right now. ‘Why . . . why you gonna do dick joke? Do dick joke. [. . .] No one want to hear your philosophy; they want to hear dick joke.’ Oh, what a completely rational heckler, hmmmm. ‘They pay to hear dick joke, not to hear you talk about the President Bush.’ Here’s how you evolve an idea; I’ll give you an example. Why is the drug Tsar of this country – well, let’s go back. Why do we have a drug Tsar in this country, a)? b) Why is he a cop? Why isn’t he a guy in recovery, who’s had an alcohol and/or drug addiction and overcome it? And why doesn’t he help people with the same problem with compassion rather than condemnation? Why do we put people who are on drugs in jail? They’re sick. They’re not criminals. Sick people don’t get healed in jail. See, it makes no sense. And if we evolve the idea, you see, the planet might be more compassionate and something like HEAVEN might dawn. I want everyone here to take the five dried grams I taped under y’all chairs right now. Under your chairs: check ’em out. Let’s go, man. The fucking UFOs are waiting in the fifth dimension. Let’s go! We’ll do it later. We’ll do it as a closer.
Shit, man. Mushrooms grow naturally on the planet. They’re against the law. Marijuana grows na
turally on the planet. It’s against the law. Do you think making nature against the law seems a bit, I don’t know . . . unnatural?
I was down in Australia when the Waco debacle ended, and I was very bummed because I thought that was the most fascinating story of the year, bar none. And everyone was so upset with that guy cos he called himself Jesus, right? And I said, ‘Come on, you know. The guy’s real name . . . is Vernon. Let him be Jesus for a couple of months, you know what I mean? What’s it to you?’ Who’s gonna follow a messiah called Vernon, anyway. You gotta be Jesus, that’s part of the Messiah deal. ‘And Vernon spake.’ Yeah, yeah, what are we doing?
‘I’m followin’ Vernon.’
‘Where y’all going?’
‘To the drive-in. Heyah! Joe-Bob Briggs said the movie was real good. Vernon’s going. He’s my Messiah. He said he’d get us some beef jerky. Whoo!’
‘I follow Vernon.’
Isn’t that weird, though. People always snap and think they’re Jesus. How come no one ever snaps and thinks they’re Buddha? Particularly in America, where more people resemble Buddha than Jesus.
‘I’m Buddha.’
‘You’re Bubba.’
‘I’m Buddha now. All I gotta do is change two letters on my belt. Bubba – Buddha. Come over here and read my Scripture. Vernon’s a false prophet. Bubba-Buddha’s the real man.’
I was in Australia, and the Australians had a big contingency at the Branch Davidian compound, and I’m from Texas so they were very curious. They were asking me all about it, you know. ‘Oh, this guy’s so weird, in’t he? This guy Koresh is so weird.’ And I was thinking, well, wait a minute. Frustrated rock musician with a messianic complex, armed to the teeth, and trying to fuck everything that moves. I don’t know how to tell you this: sounds like every one of my friends in Austin. I don’t know if this is gonna be an isolated incident. Waiting for Will Sexton to build a compound somewhere. I don’t even know what that means. I don’t even know what . . . that was an Austin name; I picked it out of a hat. Pick your own Austin guitarist. Have fun with the joke.
But I thought the whole thing was an absolute disaster and a debacle, and if any of y’all have been watching public access and seen the footage, which was not shown on any major news media source, of the tanks, Bradley tanks, shooting fire into the compound, which I think went against the party-line story, which was that they shot tear gas in order to help the mothers and the children to get out, to convince them – oh, they’re destroying the compound, they’re getting the moms and children out, you see . . . the soft sell is definitely the FBI’s way. And anyway, so the major news said that the Branch Davidians started a fire. If I’m not mistak– correct me when I go off the story here – a-a-a-and that the Branch Davidians, and all they did was shoot in tear gas, and yet I’ve seen with my own eyes and my (squeaking sound) squeegeed third eye footage of a Bradley tank shooting fire into the compound, which . . . in’t that odd that no major news source has picked up on that? Huh, you’d think that’s newsworthy. Cos that basically means that the government, from the FBI, the ATF, up to Janet Reno and including Clinton, are ahm, liars and murderers. Ha ha ha ha! And – wait, there’s more – and . . . I mean, the implications are vast. Ahm, you know. And if the ATF and FBI had any honor, if there was any honor left or dignity on this planet, they would commit hara-kiri while first admitting what they’ve done. They’d kill themselves, cos they are liars and murderers.
‘Oh, we had to bust the compound down, cos we heard child molestation was going on.’ Yeah, if that’s true, how come we don’t see Bradley tanks knocking down Catholic churches? I’m talking if child molestation is actually your concern. ‘Well, there was a meth-amphetamine lab on it.’ No there wasn’t. And not one child came out of there saying they were molested. Not one child. They don’t want the voice of reason spoken, folks, cos otherwise we’d be free. Otherwise we wouldn’t believe their FUCKING horse-shit lies, nor the fucking propaganda machine, the mainstream media, and buy their horse-shit products that we don’t fucking need, and become a Third World consumer fucking plantation, which is what we’re becoming. Fuck them! They’re liars and murderers. All governments are liars and murderers, and I am now Jesus. Now. And this is my compound.
I’m sorry if anyone here is Catholic, ah . . . I’m not sorry if you’re offended, I’m actually sorry just the fact that you’re Catholic. Got to be one of the most ludicrous fucking beliefs ever. Like these vampire priests sink their twin fangs of guilt and sin into you as a child and suck your joy of life out of you the rest of your fucking existence. And I love watching the Pope bounce around in his little Popemobile. That’s the . . . that’s got to be hoot number one on my fucking CNN list. Just, I want a whole show with the Pope just bouncing around in that all-terrain Popemobile, with the three feet of bulletproof Plexiglas around him. Boy, there’s faith in action. You see, you know he’s really the spokesman for God, because only God’s spokesman would need Plexiglas bulletproof, don’t you think? Don’t y’all read that the same way?
I don’t know. Christianity’s the weird one though, you know. Christianity’s such an odd religion, you know. I was raised that way, you know, and you can just suffer for it. You know, the whole image is that, you know, eternal suffering awaits anyone who questions God’s infinite love. (laughs) That’s the message, isn’t it, that we’re brought up with. Believe or die! ‘Thank you, forgiving Lord, for all those options.’
I’ve been compared to Koresh before. People said I was like Koresh, except . . . without the guns or pussy. And ah . . . means I’m just a real annoying guy, basically.
‘But you must understand the Seven Seals.’
‘What, the seven— is this a circus? I’m with you. What? Seven seals. Right.’
‘They hit the ball up their nose. Seven of them. I saw it when I was a kid. I don’t understand it.’
And I knew Billy Clinton became one of the boys when he bombed Iraq.63 Remember that? It was just a little news story for two days. Isn’t that interesting? He launched twenty-two cruise missiles against Baghdad in retaliation for the alleged assassination attempt against George Bush, which failed. We killed six innocent people, launching twenty-two, I think 3-million-dollars-apiece missiles on Baghdad, killing six innocent people. Ahm, I think that’s a little bit overdoing it, if you ask me. Ahm, you know what we should have done? We should have embarrassed the Iraqians, you know what I mean? Here’s how we could do it: we should have assassinated Bush, and said, ‘That’s how you do it, towel-head. Don’t fuck with us.’ And see, if Bush had been the one who had died, there would have been no loss of innocent life.
We should do a car-bomb derby with them, that’s what we should do. Car-bomb derby. Put it on after American Gladiators. We’d just watch it, big ratings, ‘It’s good, I like Car-Bomb Derby. We beat the Iraqi team again. I love that.’ And that way we’d all be on equal ground again. And I believe in equality. I believe there is a commonality to all humanity: we all suck. OK, thank you.
I have this feeling, man, cos you know there’s a handful of people actually run everything. That’s true. It’s provable, it’s not a fucking— I’m not a conspiracy nut. It’s provable. A handful, a very small elite, run and own these corporations, which include the mainstream media. I have this feeling who’s ever elected President, like Clinton was, no matter what your promises you promise on the campaign trail, ‘blah, blah, blah’, when you win, you go into this smoky room with the twelve industrialist capitalist scum-fucks who got you in there, and you’re in this smoky room and this little film screen comes down, rrrrrrrrrr, and a big guy and a cigar (po po) ‘Roll the film.’ (po po po) And it’s a shot of the Kennedy assassination from an angle you’ve never seen before . . . that looks suspiciously off the grassy knoll. And then the film, the screen goes up, and the lights come up, and they go to the new President, ‘Any questions?’
‘Ah, just what my agenda is?’
‘First we bomb Baghdad.’
‘You got it.�
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But we’ve got to come to some new, some new ideas about life, OK? I’m not being facetious about abortion. It might be a real issue; it might not. It doesn’t really matter to me, cos what matters is, if you really believe in sanctity of life, then you believe it for people of all ages. That’s what I hate about this fucking child worship syndrome going on around. ‘Save the children. Think of the children. God, how many children were in the Waco? The children!’ Hey, what does that mean? They reach a certain age, they’re off your fucking love list? Fuck your children, if that’s the way you feel, and fuck you with ’em. You either love people in general from all ages, or you shut the fuck up. ‘Bill, what kind of philosophy is this, Bill?’ I don’t know yet. I’m chasing this philosophy like a hound. I don’t know where it’s heading. (barks) Trying to tree it, you know. ‘Who are you to tell people when to have kids or not?’ I’m me, it’s true, shut the fuck up. Quit thinking you’re gonna fucking make the world better by bringing more little fucking cabbages to the planet. Why don’t you try loving the people that are already fucking here, OK? Instead of living for a future that never fucking comes. It doesn’t exist. It ain’t coming. There is no future. There’s no such thing. It doesn’t exist. ‘You’re our future! THE CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE!’ There’s no such thing, asshole! Take some mushrooms and squeegee your third fucking eye! (makes squeaking sound) ‘Oh my God, there is only this moment!’ (makes squeaking sound)
The argument doesn’t work with me, flapjack. Go back to your fucking crackerjack lifestyle, and I’ll meet you at the evolution bell-curve. I’ll be sitting there awhile. It’s kind of a tortoise-and-the-hare-story. (makes sound of crickets chirruping) That’s Bill, waiting for people to catch up. (crickets chirruping). ‘We think science is gonna save us, Bill!’ Oh, FUCK! (crickets chirruping) Take mushrooms, folks, squeegee your third fucking eye. (makes squeaking sound) The TV has clouded it over, OK? TV is like taking black paint to your eye. Chhhhhhhhhh! Take mushrooms. (makes squeaking sound) What do you think, mushrooms were here by accident? You think it’s a fucking accident mushrooms grow on cow shit? Where do you think ‘That’s good shit’ came from?