Love All the People (New Edition)

by Bill Hicks

  It is, and has been, and will forever be, this world of ours, a fucking joke. The real world lies beyond its veil, and the Artist, all Artists, have lifted that veil for themselves, and therefore for all, because we really are All One. (By the way, Larry, this is the very philosophy that has kept me virtually anonymous in America for fifteen years. Hmmm . . .) (Perhaps I should dye my hair blue and call myself Popsicle. Then I’d really be ‘hot’!)

  This is what confused me about, again, the idea of my not having a ‘unifying theme’. Isn’t Reason vs. Unreason, Sanity vs Insanity, Sense vs. Nonsense a theme? Isn’t coaxing, cajoling, convincing the audience into fearlessly going on your inner journey with you a theme? (Particularly an inner journey such as my own, which to the provincial must seem, at first, quite profane?) What was Richard Pryor’s ‘unifying theme’ other than his own idiosyncratic point of view? And who said it best and first? And no, it wasn’t a comedian. Give up? It was Lenny Bruce. I am my own Unifying Theme, Mr Christian, and unfortunately there is no label, book, nor prop in which to name it. (‘Social Critic’ is not too far off the mark.)

  You know, many reviewers have compared me to Lenny Bruce, and many have asked me how I feel about that comparison. My answer is always the same. First of all, since I didn’t make the comparison, I don’t have to justify it. But, to answer the question in earnest, I actually do feel we are similar. We are similar in that he was himself on stage, and I am myself on stage. Simlarly Richard Pryor was himself, Charlie Chaplin was himself, Buster Keaton was himself, W. C. Field was himself, and the only pertinent question regarding these men’s work – was it fucking funny? (Plus, I was doing a comedy show, not a term paper.)

  You ended your piece on me with the single most baffling sentiment I have ever heard expressed regarding a comic. ‘. . . How are we to ever know if Mr Hicks is prophetic, or merely a crackpot?’ CRACKPOT!? (Surely my show didn’t remind you of Professor Irwin Corey’s.)69

  Since when in the history of comedy reviewing has any comic ever been held up to such remarkable standards? A prophet! A crackpot! Holy shit! (I’m still tossing and turning in bed over that.) Think about it, Larry. If you are willing to hold me up to such an unbelievable standard such as a prophet, or willing to dismiss me as some kind of crackpot, surely you understand my desire for you to reassess exactly what it is I do. And I think you are right when you said we might both learn something from each other with further dialogue. Apparently it is not clear to a lot of people what it is I do, so you know what? I’m just going to come out and tell you. No beating around the bush. Ok, here goes . . . I, like all artists in Western cultures, am a shaman. (That’s somewhere between prophet and crackpot, by the way . . . though much closer to prophet.)

  There, now you have it. I am a Shaman come in the guise of a comic, in order to heal perception by using stories and ‘jokes’, and always, always, always the Voice of Reason, that people may have Hope and Peace, by healing their misperceptions. I am a shaman and my goal is to . . . drum roll . . . be myself! And the effort that takes is . . . Another drum roll, please . . . none! And my message is . . . Drum roll, then cymbal crashes . . . Be Yourself. I am a shaman, a healer and truth is my medicine. Laughter makes the bitter swallowing of truth, for some, a little easier.

  We live in a world of denial, Larry. And the shaman comes to remind us of our Truth. Shamans come in many shapes and forms. The form I’ve come in – me – is best expressed through the unfortunately limiting label of ‘comic’. Yes, it must be confusing to some people. Gee, it took me years to realize what I was. (Years and years and years . . .) And always I’ve heard the same thing from the supposed ‘powers that be’ – ‘We love you, Bill, but we just don’t know what to do with you.’ Really? Hmmm . . . That’s very funny to me, because they obviously know what to do with the chumps, and the clowns, and the fakes, and the non-talents. Hmmm. . .

  But, here’s the good news – I finally realized who it is I am, and I no longer chase the carrot (tops), and I have no more hoops to jump through. I only have things to share with those who are willing or interested.

  Let me tell you what a relief it is to finally know who you are! The weight of the world has literally been lifted from my shoulders, and now I see new hope and new happiness being born everyday. And, strangely enough, new opportunities are coming at me all the time. (‘Be yourself and all else will follow.’) It’s really that easy. And what effort does it take to be yourself?

  A long time ago, a lawyer friend of mine told me something I found very enticing. He told me the word Enthusiasm cames from the latin words En Theos, which means – the God Within. ‘In other words,’ I thought to myself, ‘do what excites you, for that excitement is God telling you – “we’re on the right path, and we are together and isn’t it fun!”’ And it has been fun for me these last few years, and it’s getting more fun everyday.

  I’m writing to you now en route to W. Palm Beach, Florida, where I’ll stay a few days before heading on to London. There we will take the first official step in realizing my vision for a show that came to me and my friend about three years ago. It is a show for visions and visionaries, for the Enlightened and those who wish to be Enlightened. It’s called ‘The Counts of the Netherworld’, and its time has come. It’s time to air the Voice of Reason. And, by the way, Larry, I am not a ‘cult figure’ in London, where I’ve been performing only for two years. I am a star. I am a cult figure in America, where I’ve been touring ceaselessly for over a decade. And, I might add, turning down every banal, stupid, trite, unfunny thing that was ever offered to me.

  No, sir, I have a great respect for comedy. And it pains me to see it treated so . . . shamefully. There is no context for the bullshit we see on TV. There is no center. This country has swallowed the fucking lie hook, line, and sinker, and wallows in it like some fat swine – proud of its ignorance. As H. L Menken said – ‘America’s biggest failing is its inability to take comedy seriously.’ And I couldn’t agree more. Now, it seems, more than ever, our deranged country staggers aimlessly about, seeking, but it knows not what for. If only the mule would stop chasing the carrot, he would lay his tired weary carcass down and see the beautiful fields of grass on which to eat, that have been there all along. And, Larry, I think you are so right to point out the part the media has played in our national nightmare.

  Whatever. The Truth will always be there, and it is only ourselves we are hurting. Shit, I know because I did it to myself for so long. And though I have taken the long route, what’s the difference in the context of Eternity?

  Anyway, I am most curious to hear your take on the Waco Documentary. Everyone, including myself, who’s seen it, has the same response – what the hell am I seeing? Why haven’t we seen this on the news? And can someone just please explain it? Your guess is as good as mine, although I think the footage speaks for itself. (Then again, I thought the Rodney King beating tape spoke for itself. Boy, was I wrong. I didn’t know, as the cops helped me understand, that it was all in how you looked at the tape. Well what do you mean? ‘Well, if you play the tape backwards, you see us help King up and send him on his way.’ Oh . . .)

  Also, I’ve included the videotape of my final show ever (?), which was shot at Igbies the day after you saw me. If you have the time and interest, I would greatly appreciate you giving another gander at what I do. The show at Igbies was so much warmer and I think a truer representative of what it is I actually do. Maybe now that you are, hopefully, over that bad cold, you can, at your leisure now, in the comfort of your own home, kick back and watch this tape and maybe even get a hoot out of it. (You were most definitely correct in assessing that [. . .] Improv – what a fucking morgue!)

  Jeses, I’ve been writing now for over two hours. Even a crackpot can take a hint once in a while. I’ll close by saying ‘thanks’ again for your openness in calling me back and hearing me out.

  Sincerely,

  Bill Hicks

  P.S. Comic as shaman? Now there’s a fucking unifying
theme!

  My Philosophy

  (August 1993)

  I love to smoke. To me, everything about smoking is cool. When I hear ‘Kinda Blue’ by Miles Davis, a cigarette magically appears in my hand, and I am THERE. Smoking is Miles Davis. Smoking is Tom Waites. Smoking is Bob Dylan. Smoking is Keith Richards.

  Billy Ray Cyrus does not smoke. Michael Bolton doesn’t smoke. Paula Abdul doesn’t smoke. Is this clear? I’m not saying people who don’t smoke aren’t cool – although there does seem to be a pattern. I’m saying a lot of cool people smoke, and smoking is part of their coolness. I know I surprised a few people when I toured the UK last year. During the first tour, I was smoking and discussing my love of smoking onstage. By the time the second tour had begun, I had quit smoking, and all the people who liked what I did before seemed genuinely hurt and betrayed. People were yelling ‘Judas!’ and Traitor’ and throwing cigarettes at me onstage. It was like Dylan going electric. While it was all done in good fun – except the lit ones – I explained my new lifestyle quite ingeniously. (There’s nothing quite like a hail of burning embers raining down upon you to make you quick on your feet.) I told everyone the point of my old smoking routine was that I should have the right to smoke even if you think I SHOULDN’T. Now, I should have the right NOT to smoke even if you think I SHOULD. The point is – THE FREEDOM TO CHOOSE. After explaining this to the audience, they calmed down somewhat. While cigarettes were still thrown fewer and fewer lit ones were flicked at my head.

  I don’t want to toot my own horn here – you couldn’t hear it from this distance anyway – but, I think I’m fairly open-minded when it comes to the idea of Freedom. I think I’m one of the only former drug abusers and alcoholics who doesn’t decry the years I partied, or regret them. Instead, I look on those experiences as fun and exciting, and crucial to getting me where I am today. And I believe all drugs should be legal and available. In fact, I believe that as long as you don’t harm another person, or get in the way of their freedom, ALL THINGS should be legal and available. As no amount of laws passed seem to prevent people’s love of freedom, nor squelch their curiosity, nor their basic humanity, we would do better to look through the eyes of love and compassion, rather than condemnation and fear.

  Drug abusers are not criminals in my mind’s eye. At worst, they are just sick, and I know of no jail that has ever healed anyone.

  I ascribe to a philosophy of Gentle Anarchy. I believe people are inherently GOOD, and left to their own devices – with the free exchange of ideas and information – a joyful lightness would spread across the face of our dour world.

  I am aware there are many people who do not feel this way. This is why I figured out a way to make everyone happy, while also furthering the idea of Freedom. Here it is: for those people who think smoking, drugs, abortion, and prostitution should be legal and available – make them legal and available. And for those people who think smoking, drugs, abortion, and prostitution should NOT be legal and available – they’re not, they never were, don’t worry, we’re cracking down. There. That way, the world would remain exactly as it is now, only without the onus of guilt, shame, and legality.

  Does this mean I am suggesting people smoke, take drugs, get abortions, or go to prostitutes? No. I recommend you do what you want to do, which is what you’re going to do anyway. I am merely suggesting we accept life on life’s terms instead of drowning in a quagmire of niggling SHOULDS and SHOULDN’TS which have done NOTHING to free our spirits from the cloud of guilt and shame that shrouds this planet. Again – forgiveness rather than condemnation, compassion rather than judgement, and love rather than fear. And keep in mind, this radical philosophy is coming from me – an avowed misanthrope. If I can feel this way, surely there is hope for us all. Have we learned anything from all this? I have. The next time I tour the UK, I’m not going to tell the audience I quit smoking. I’m going to tell them I quit fucking, just to see what they throw at me then. I look forward to seeing you.

  Part 4: Late 1993-94

  Free Press or The Observer Show Idea

  (October 1993)

  The story of William Harrison, son of the fabulously rich and unethical industrialist Dwight William Harrison, and also the inheritor of a two-hundred million dollar trust fund from a loving aunt. William Harrison has totally rejected the values and lifestyle of his parents and has started an alternative newspaper in the small college town from which he’s from – say Austin, TX. The cast of characters who work at the Free Press – a weekly paper known as ‘The Observer – all share the values of the counter culture.

  There’s Rainbow, a delightful free soul who believes and lives fully the ideals of the sixties. Rainbow channels the alien Sibius for an advice column in the newspaper called ‘Sibius Responds’. She absolutely adores William, and loves people in general. She worships the ground William walks on for starting the paper and allowing ‘the true nature of our reality to be printed and made available to the people’.

  There’s Dutch, a college student and jock whose football injury has sidelined him forever, relegating himself to sports writer for the Free Press ‘Observer’, he’s a goodhearted fellow, though totally confounded by Rainbow, new-age culture, and the start of the paper in general. He is happy to be able to keep his toe in sports in any way and writes florid, poetic accounts of the ongoing efforts of the college’s sports teams. His dreams of being a serious writer are apparent, and William hired him for his innocence and genuine love of poetry. Dutch acts tough, but deep inside he’s just as idiosyncratic as Rainbow, and treats his job at the Free Press ‘Observer’ as a salve for the regrets of failing at the one thing his parents willed for him – professional football.

  There’s also Tricia – a third-year journalist major whose gung-ho attitude at the paper is generally at odds with the easygoing spirit of the place. She’s seeking major journalistic coups, uncovering corruption, injustice, human rights violations as though she were expecting a Pulitzer prize before even graduating. Many of her stories center on the brazen, corrupt Dwight Harrison, Industrialist/ Developer supreme of the small town. His acts range from pollution of streams and lakes, the building of golf courses over forest, and condos to block the views of the natural beauty of Texas Hill country. She too is frustrated and perplexed by the laidback attitude of the editor and chief of the Free Press ‘Observer She has no idea that William is Dwight Harrison’s son, nor that William started ‘The Observer as an act of complete rejection of his father’s values. A situation he is slightly uncomfortable with as he watches Tricia single handedly going about trying to dismantle his father’s empire. Tricia constantly reminds him she’s destined for greater things than the flakey paper that hired her. She is a raven haired beauty, stiff and fiery, and little does she know how much she needs the laidback attitude of the editor and chief and the other members of the staff. William finds her quite attractive and her anger and frustration towards him speaks volumes of the other feelings she has not yet acknowledged that run deep inside her. As editor of the magazine, William writes his own philosophical ideas and opinions which sound like mumbo jumbo to Tricia. Still he gives her free rein on any story she chooses and backs her 100%.

  Also on the staff is Lyle – music reviewer, concert-goer supreme. He believes music is the lifeblood of the paper and life in general and lives for music. His long hair and slacker speech annoy Dutch, who, although a poet at heart, was raised in a much more conservative atmosphere. Lyle thinks Dutch is a dumb jock. He is also always trying to hit on Rainbow. Rainbow, however, remains pure, just in case her hero – William – should ever need her or want her. William meanwhile fights his own personal demons – being the son of a corrupt, immoral industrialist who rules the town with an iron fist. And his own inner sense of justice and love of humanity. While William and his father never see eye to eye, his mother understands her son’s need to free himself from the oppressive atmosphere of the super-driven, super-rich, the super-immoral. She spends her time and money throwing ch
arity events and other philanthropic activities. She loves her son dearly and is proud of the choices he has made. Dwight Harrison, on the other hand, feels betrayed by his only male offspring. The Free Press ‘Observer by its nature is a thorn in his side. He’s torn between destroying the Free Press and whatever filial emotions he feels towards his only son. He lives in the constant hope his son will ‘see the light’ and come to work for him and eventually take over the empire. His feelings towards the gung-ho Free Press star reporter Tricia are rabid to say the least. She is constantly airing his dirty laundry in that small-time rag as though it were a personal vendetta. Tricia views him as the embodiment of evil itself, and in her uncovering his crimes and busting his empire, her ticket to greener pastures – the Washington Post or even the New York Times. She sees herself as a cultured woman of the world, and hates small town attitude of laidback slackers that make up the readership of the Free Press ‘Observer.

  There’s also Doyle, another reporter at the Free Press who is a loveable slob. Doyle is a forty-year-old burn-out who believes he’s reached the pinnacle of success by working for the Free Press, and is content just slopping together stories of political corruption in the state’s capital. Doyle is cynical and world weary and likes the image of the hard-nosed man on the street. Rainbow is always offering Doyle new-age remedies for his attitude which Doyle rejects in hand. ‘The only problem with me, honey – is the whole fricken world.’ Doyle, once a young idealist, has had his hopes shattered so often [in] his covering of state politics and politicians, it will take a miracle to piece them together again. Subconsciously, Doyle has come here for this miracle, which may perhaps lead his opinions to feelings for Rainbow in some unexpected ways. Tricia views Doyle as a bad luck burnout and steers clear of him unless absolutely necessary. Doyle views Tricia as an uptight twit looking for a big fall. Doyle would like to provide that fall if at all possible. He feels his seniority at the Free Press and in journalism entitles him to story choices. This constant battle is waged in front of William’s desk, who always has the final say. Basically, Doyle wants to feel redeemed and gain back the ideals of his youth. Through the leadership of William, Doyle relearns how to live and that life is worth living. Even the arcane editorials William writes make sense to Doyle on a subconscious level, but as of yet, he’s been unable to consciously grasp the true agenda of the Free Press. And just what is that agenda? To speak for the disenfranchised. All those lost souls who find no sustenance in mainstream news or media. All those seekers who found alternative lifestyles to replace the ancient crumbling institutions that have failed them, to voice the air of reason and open-mindedness in the ever increasing bland fascist consumer society, where the little guy is made smaller and more insignificant everyday. To try and recover our basic dignity and regain a sense of hope and even awe at the world around us. The Free Press is William’s way of healing his past and offering an opportunity for all the idiosyncratic personalities who work there to heal their own special needs and find amongst this cast of social misfits and odd characters, a bond stronger than blood, a family of like minded brothers who can and will offer a different view of the world than the one that’s grown so tired and familiar. They are obviously fighting an uphill battle, but what other battle is more worth fighting, and when little victories occur, what battles offer more rewards and rekindling of hopes than that of the loveable underdog who’s finally overcome the odds? This is not just the story of the FREE PRESS but that of ‘THE OBSERVER’. . . The quiet, personable, animated observer who witnesses the tapestry of life with a loving eye, a whimsical smile, a sense of humor, and always, always hopefulness and rejoicing as each and every underdog finally defeats his own inner demons and the enemies that appear to be outside them, keeping them from peace.