Listen! You think I'm crazy about the warehouse? You think I'm in love with the Continental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that - celotex interior! with - fluorescent - tubes! Look! I'd rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains - than go back mornings! I go! Every time you come in yelling that ******** "Rise and Shine!" "Rise an Shine!" I say to myself, "How lucky dead people are!" I go! For sixty-five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self - self's all I ever think of. Why, listen, if self is what I thought of, Mother, I'd be where father is - GONE! As far as the system of transportation reaches. SO, I'm going to the movies! (break) I'm going to opium dens! Yes, opium dens, dens of vice and criminals' hang-outs, Mother I've joined the Hogan Gang, I'm a hired assassin, I carry a Tommy gun in a violin case. I run a string of cat houses in the Valley. They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield. I'm leading a double life: a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night, a dynamic czar of the underworld, Mother. I go to gambling casinos, I spin away fortunes on the roulette table! I wear a patch over one eye and a false mustache, sometimes I put on green whiskers. On those occasions they call me - El Diablo. Oh I could tell you many things to make you sleepless. My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They're going to blow us all sky high some night. I'll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You'll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentleman callers. You ugly, babbling old witch.... I know it's his place. I bet the whole house is. He's not even laying on any gas now either. It's his place, all right. Look at all the other places. You go to this address, there's a key there, there's a teapot, there's never a soul in sight?(He pauses.) Eh, nobody ever hears a thing, have you ever thought of that? We never get any complaints, do we, too much noise or anything like that? You never see a soul, do you? ?except the bloke who comes. You ever noticed that? I wonder if the walls are sound-proof. (He touches the wall above his bed.) Can't tell. All you do is wait, eh? Half the time he doesn't even bother to put in an appearance, Wilson. I'm not the kind of guy who spends hundreds on a last minute flight back to New York, tears across town, then runs up six flights of stairs and knocks on my best friend's girlfriend's door in order to run off and elope with her based on one crazy, thoughtless, inexplicably romantic night.
So what am I doing here, Audrey? I'm not passionate. I'm a fact checker for Christ's sake. And the fact of me - being here - doesn't check out. It's nuts! Soul-mates? I don't believe in them. Never have. So how can I be yours? The fact is, you hardly know me! And I hardly know you!
Now, your boyfriend, I've known since kindergarten. Am I really willing to throw all those years of friendship away based on...what? Some feeling? Some intense, aching, gnawing, burning, torturing feeling that's telling me I must be with you or I'll die a slow and horrible death as my heart slowly breaks into a thousand pieces? No!
I mean, this is the kind of thing that only happens in the movies - and we're not in the movies. We're on McDougal Street, two blocks south of Bleecker - that's where we are. That is an indisputable geographical fact. A solid, rational, clear, black and white fact. And all the facts are pointing to one thing: we can't do this. All the facts say I shouldn't be here.
Because the fact is you are in a relationship. Because the fact is we just met yesterday. Because the fact is I'm not the kind of guy who falls in love. That's a fact. A cold hard fact. And facts are supposed to be true.
But the problem is....see...the problem is...despite every fact I can muster, there's something that still doesn't check out. Because the truth is despite all facts to the contrary...I still love you madly. And it just defies all reason. All morality. All sense. But I do. I love you madly. And it's not like me. And I don't want to. But I can't help it.
I'm yours, Audrey. Completely, totally, hopelessly, and utterly...yours..
I just feckin' killed Chuck. I think. I mean, he's just laying out there. He's not moving. I don't think he's breathing.
I mean, there I was just up on the roof with Marissa - talking, laughing, having a great time. I tell her she reminds me of Sandra Bullock. I tell her I loved "Hope Floats." Who knew those would be the magic words? Next thing I know her clothes are off and we're loosening roof shingles like there's no tomorrow. And then there's biting and kissing and touching and suddenly someone starts beating on me, I mean, just pounding on me and growling. Yeah, growling. And I look up and there's Chuck. And I'm like, "What's the problem?" and he says "The problem is, dude, you're fecking my girlfriend."
So I look at Marissa and I'm like "You're someone's girlfriend?" And she says "No." Then it comes out Chuck just wishes she's his girlfriend but actually she's his cousin or something, so he's got these feelings of guilt about wanting her...and then he starts crying.
So that ruined the mood. Marissa puts her clothes on, and she goes back down through the window, back into the party. And I'm left with Chuck. Blubbering, whining, crying Chuck.
And he starts in on how he's just this totally fecked up and maybe he should just throw himself off the roof. And for a split second I'm thinking "YES! Throw yourself off the roof! Do it!" But I don't say that. I say I "You're gonna get a girl, buddy, just maybe not your cousin, huh?" And then I give him a friendly pat on the back. A nice manly slap on the back. And he looked heavy, I mean, who knew he'd go flying.
Who knew he'd go flying right off the roof?
There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.' I been saying that sht for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded sht to say to a motherfecker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some sht this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man, and Mr. 9 millimeter here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that sht ain't the truth. The truth is, you're the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd. Well that's what we do, we fight... You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing. ... So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like? If it's with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that's what you really wanted. But don't you take the easy way out. Where I was taken to, Brothers, was like no cine I ever viddied before. I was bound up in a strait jacket and my Gulliver was strapped to a headrest with like wires running away from it. Then they clamped like lid locks on my eyes so that I could not shut them no matter how hard I tried. It seemed a bit crazy to me but I let them get on with it. If I was to be a free young malchick again in a fortnight's time I would put up with much in the meantime, O my Brothers. ... So far the first film, was a very good professional piece of cine. Like it was done in Hollywood. The sounds were real horror show, you could slooshie the screams and moans very realistic. You could even get the heavy breathing and panting of the tolchcoking malchicks at the same time. And then what do you know, soon our dear old friend the red red vino on tap. The same in all places, like it was put out by the same big firm, began to flow. It was beautiful. It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen. Now all the time I was watching this, I was beginning to get very aware of like not feeling all that well. And this this I put down to all the rich food and vitamins. But I tried to forget this, concentrating on the next film which jumped right away on a young devotchka who was being given the old in-out, in-out. First by one malchick, then another, then another. When it came to the sixth or seventh malchick leering and smecking and going into it, I began to feel really sick. But I could not shut me glassies and even if I tried to move my glassballs about, I still not get out of the line of fire of this picture. I'm going to be sick! Get something for me to be sick in! In the fairy tale criminal Justice system, the characters are represented by two separate but equally outlandish groups the fable police who investigate crime and fable the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. This is one of their stories. C.S.I Fairy Tale Division, A play by Glenn A. Hascall CSI # 1: So what'a we got? PHOTO GUY: A Canis Lupis in the great room, an adolescent female with vision problems and a senior citizen found in the closet. CSI # 1: She OK? PHOTO GUY: Yeah, she'll be fine. No abrasions to speak of. Her granddaughter dropped by with a package. CSI # 1: A package. PHOTO GUY: A transportation devise primarily comprised of whicker with a cotton lining. CSI # 1: A basket. OK, where's the granddaughter? PHOTO GUY: She's the one in red over there. (Point toward Red) CSI # 1: (Walks toward Red) So, you were delivering something to your grandmother? RED: Yes, French Crullers. CSI # 2: The pastry? RED: (Confused) Yes. CSI # 2: I only ask because I once knew a French Cruller - he was really very good at Parcheesi. RED: (Tries to be polite) No it was the donut, not the famous Parcheesi player. CSI # 1: Hmmmm. (Reaches down with tweezers and picks up something) CSI # 2: What is it? CSI # 1: These old things? Why they're tweezers, but there's no time to talk about them. We really need to find out what happened here. We've got one Canis Lupus by the fire place and the only thing we are sure of is that French Cruller was nowhere near the scene of the crime. CSI # 2: (Turns attention to Granny) So what exactly happened ma'am? GRANNY: Well, I was sitting in the easy chair watching Oprah when this 'fur ball' arrived unannounced. He placed a double layer of duct tape over my mouth and put me in the closet. CSI # 1: (Picks up a strip of duct tape with his tweezers) Is this it ma'am? GRANNY: Yes. CSI # 2: Had you ever seen this 'fur ball' before? GRANNY: No, that's what made his behavior so unusual. CSI # 1: So when you say 'fur ball' ... you mean? CSI # 2: I would assume a ball of fur - possibly the size of a softball - maybe a bit larger. GRANNY: No, I mean a wolf - a gray wolf - possibly 18-24 months of age. CSI # 2: Oh, (Scribbles out a few lines on his notepad) do you think you could identify this 'fur ball' if you saw him again? GRANNY: Yeah! CSI # 1: That's great, let's get Granny downtown to look over mug shots. GRANNY: Don't need to. CSI # 2: Why's that, Granny? GRANNY: That's him by the fireplace. CSI # 1: Check to see if he's got any ID. CSI # 2: (WOLF should lift his arm with the wallet - CSI # 1 takes it from him) Well, how do you explain this? (Looks at Granny) His ID indicates that he's you. GRANNY: What? CSI # 1: (Looks at the ID) He's not very photogenic. GRANNY: (Exasperated) Haven't you ever heard of identity theft? CSI # 1: Identity theft? CSI # 2: Diabolical. CSI # 1: (Looks at Granny) So who are you pretending to be? GRANNY: Not ME - HIM! CSI # 1: Oh, so you're saying that the wolf subject was attempting to assume your identity. GRANNY: (Frustrated) YES! CSI # 2: Wow, never saw that coming. (Looks at the wolf) Although I will say the deceased looks nothing like you - and he needs a shave. CSI # 1: That's why we follow the evidence. CSI # 2: Miss Red, could we speak with you for a minute. RED: Sure. CSI # 1: Did you have an altercation with the Canis Lupus? RED: No, but I did have a nasty chat with that wolf over there. CSI # 2: Do you remember any conversation you had with the alleged wolf? RED: I made some general comment about teeth, ear and eye size. I did notice an odor that didn't really smell like grandma. He was 'good'. CSI # 2: Good - as in nice? RED: No, good - as in he had me convinced he was Granny until that whole, "better to eat you with" monologue. CSI # 1: So what happened then? RED: I ran screaming like Chicken Little and then acted like a matador with my red cape - the wolf ran right into the wall. Expired like last week's bologna. CSI # 2: You've been watching too many late night detective shows, ma'am. RED: No, he really smelled like expired bologna. CSI # 1: So you had a lot of experience with spoiled bologna? GRANNY: (Forceful) You don't have to answer that, dear. RED: (Nervous) I think I want to see my lawyer. CSI # 2: Would you excuse us? GRANNY: Sure. (The two CSI staff move apart from Granny and Red to discuss the issue) CSI # 1: It's plain to see that things aren't as they should be. CSI # 2: You got that right. Mom thought I should be in the philharmonic. Still don't know what I'm doing chasing legendary figures here at Fairy Tale Division. CSI # 1: I'm actually talking about the cover up going on here. CSI # 2: Cover up? CSI # 1: I think Granny made a call to Red at midnight. (Have Granny and Red act this part out on separate areas of the stage - use cell phones - add some ethereal music if possible) GRANNY: Red? RED: (Sleepy) Granny? GRANNY: Yes. I need you to come over tomorrow and bring me a basket of strawberry tarts, you know, the kind with cream. RED: Those ARE good. GRANNY: And be sure to leave your glasses at home, dear. You know how I love to see your eyes. RED: But Granny, you know I'm blind as a bat without them. GRANNY: Well, alright, but take them off before you come in. Oh, and wear your red cape. RED: Granny, why are you calling me so late? GRANNY: Nights and weekends are free. CSI # 1: I think that's how it happened. (If you use music, it should end here) GRANNY: That's not true. CSI # 2: Then show us the Crullers ma'am. CSI # 1: You see the wolf population are highly susceptible to the effects of berries and the contents of the basket with Red's fingerprints - yep, strawberry tarts. GRANNY: No. CSI # 2: It's the crack/cocaine of the wolf kingdom. GRANNY: I didn't... CSI # 1: You intentionally dangled it in front of the wolf knowing he's be all it like a four year-old boy on a stink bug.. RED: Granny? GRANNY: But I... CSI # 1: You can come clean, Granny. The wallet has your fingerprints on it. You planted the phony I.D. You intentionally lured the wolf to your property through the use of your granddaughter, Red, and, of course, a few strawberry tarts. GRANNY: No. CSI # 2: You even offered the wolf a few tips on how to act like you so a visually impaired Red, wouldn't know the difference. RED: Granny? GRANNY: (Paused in conflict) Alright - it was me - I did it. RED: (Emotional) Why Granny? GRANNY: Well, I... WOLF: (Pops up from the ground.) CSI # 1: Well now this is a surprise. CSI # 2: And he's alive. WOLF: (Brushes his arms) Granny was in the midst of training for her new role in a secret branch of the government designed to assist officials in locating bad guys originating in children's literature. CSI # 2: And who are you? WOLF: Special agent Johnny Wolfiwittz (Flips out a badge). This was a simple training exercise - a misunderstanding, although I wasn't expecting to be put out of commission by a wall. CSI # 1: Don't you people ever send a memo? WOLF: No. But I am working another case tomorrow in your district. CSI # 2: Really? WOLF: Yes, there are three pigs that just moved here. They are homebuilders by trade, it's believed that their penchant for shoddy work may cause problems for their customers. There's a lot of huffing and puffing down at headquarters about that. CSI # 1: Tell me about it. CSI # 2: We'll get a report on this? WOLF: (Overly friendly) Probably not. CSI # 1: You know Mr. Wolfiwittz - there's just one thing I don't understand. WOLF: What's that? CSI # 1: How it is that the surveillance camera outside Granny's house shows you sneaking into the home wearing an outfit similar to Granny? WOLF: (Nervous) Surveillance tape? CSI # 1: You might have gotten away with it to if it hadn't been for something that Red said. WOLF: What was that. RED: (Re-enacting the moment) He just smelled like expired bologna. CSI # 2: You see, we just received word that the three little pigs had already had a visitor today. WOLF: (Broken) Look I was on a diet - one of those new no pork things - I tried, really I did. Is it a crime to go off your diet? CSI # 1: (Places cuffs on the Wolf) Tell it to the judge. CSI # 2: Yesterday it was pork cutlets - today? Dee: What is this thing?
Charlie: That's Dennis' prototype. Be careful with that.
Dee: No, I know it's the prototype but I don't get how it works.
Charlie: Dee, you're asking a million questions. All right, look, I'm just going to walk you through it, so pay attention. OK, look, the pretty lady gets naked, of course, and I help her into the prototype, yes? My hands sort of guiding along her body making sure that it fits properly. Now the dress is starting to look fantastic, you know? And she feels very excited, she feels very sensual and I feel very sensual about her because she looks so good. And then, you know, we chit-chat a little bit, no big deal but she asks me back to her place. Where did that come from? I accept, you know? And then we chit-chat at her place, it's no big deal, but eventually she says, "Do you want to make love, Charlie?"
Dee: Oh God.
Charlie: And I say, "Are you serious? Because yes, I do." And then just boom, we're into it and it's hot and it's passionate.
Charlie: And then it's just you and me babe...
Dee: Oh my God.
You wanna talk about stress? You wanna talk about stress?! OK! I've stumbled onto a major company conspiracy, Mac--how 'bout that for stress? This company is being bled like a stuck pig, Mac, and I've got a paper trail to prove it. Check this out. [Goes to a wall covered in paper and string] Take a look at this.That right there is the mail. Now let's talk about the mail. Can we talk about the mail, please, Mac? I've been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, OK? "Pepe Silvia," this name keeps coming up over and over again. Every day Pepe's mail is getting sent back to me. Pepe Silvia! Pepe Silvia! I look in the mail, and this whole box is Pepe Silvia! So I say to myself, "I gotta find this guy! I gotta go up to his office and put his mail in the guy's ****** hands! Otherwise, he's never going to get it and he's going to keep coming back down here." So I go up to Pepe's office and what do I find out, Mac? What do I find out?! There is no Pepe Silvia. The man does not exist, okay? So I decide, "Oh shit, buddy, I gotta dig a little deeper." There's no Pepe Silvia? You gotta be kidding me! I got boxes full of Pepe! All right. So I start marchin' my way down to Carol in HR and I knock on her door and I say, "Carol! Carol! I gotta talk to you about Pepe." And when I open the door what do I find? There's not a single ***** desk in that office! There...is...no...Carol in HR. Mac, half the employees in this building have been made up. This office is a ****** ghost town. [A kafe in Kitguli. Price is drinking at the bar there and he's got several stacks of coffee cups before him. His left leg is trembling]
Price:Hit me! Gimme another one! Come ON! [the barkeep pours him another cup] Thank you. You wanna hear something funny? I used tot hink drinking coffee was wrong. You wanna know why? HM! Because ap-parently, a tribe of ancient Jews lived in America created huge civilizations and were visited by Christ, but then, then disappeared, leaving no archaeological trace of themselves except... for golden plates, which were then dug up by a farmer who wrote down, amongst other things, that hot drinks were not for the body to belly, so I can't have a cup of coffee! [the barkeep gets scared and leaves] HA! [trembles and drinks from his cup]
Cunningham:[walks in] Elder Price? <>[Price looks over] Aer you okay?
Price:Well well! If it isn't the super Mormon! Really changed in Uganda, aren'tcha?
Cunningham:I'm doin' what I can.
Price:Yeah? Spreadin' the Word? Makin' more brainwashed zombies?
Cunningham:Elder Price? What happened to you?
Price:I woke up. That's what happened.
Cunningham:Of course you woke up! You drank twelve cups of coffee!!
Price:[stands up and confronts Cunningham] You tell me how it is, huh?! How is it you converted also those people into Mormons?!
Cunningham:I don't know. Once I baptized Nagasaki the others just fell into place. Price:You baptized that girl??
Cunningham:Yeah, I did. Don't hate on me, elder!
Price:You get everything you pray for! You're doing everything I was supposed to do! Doesn't that seem a little telling to you?!
Cunningham:Well of what??
Price:The the universe doesn't work the way we were told! ... When I was nine years old, my family took a trip. To Orlando, Florida. And it was the most... wonderful, most magical place I'd ever seen. And I decided right then and there, "This... is where I want to spend eternity." My parents said that if I made God proud and I did everything the Church asked, in the latter days, I could have whatever I wanted. So I worked. And I worked. And even when I studied Mormon stories and I thought, "That doesn't really make sense," I kept working! Becaue I was told that one day I would get my reward! PLANET ORLANDO! But what do I have now? I cant even get a ticket home......
Cunningham:Um... Yeah... Okay, anyway, so, the uh, the mission president is coming tomorrow and, I'm without my companion and well it just looks kind of bad-
Price:Aaaa-oh, so thaaat's why you came!
Cunningham:Noo, I came because I care about you-
Cunningham:-and Havenly Fa-
Price:That is bull poop, elder! And you know it!
Cunningham:Look, I know you may not be the best "companion," but if we can please just ACT like we're still together, in front of the mission president, it would be the best thing for the both of us.
Price:Fine! But don't talk to me! And don't touch me!
Cunningham:Fine! [storms out of the kafe]
Price:Fine! [starts after Cunninigham, but stops, then turns aside]
Orland, Orlando, I liked you Orlando.
Your bright lights, your big dreams, your promises you couldn't keep
Orland, Orlando, without you Orlando.
I'm just a guy who will die and never go back... to... youuuu...
Steve Martin: If I had one wish that I could wish this holiday season, it would be that all the children to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace. If I had two wishes I could make this holiday season, the first would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of harmony and peace. And the second would be for 30 million dollars a month to be given to me, tax-free in a Swiss bank account. You know, if I had three wishes I could make this holiday season, the first, of course, would be for all the children of the world to get together and sing, the second would be for the 30 million dollars every month to me, and the third would be for encompassing power over every living being in the entire universe. And if I had four wishes that I could make this holiday season, the first would be the crap about the kids definitely, the second would be for the 30 million, the third would be for all the power, and the fourth would be to set aside one month each year to have an extended 31-day orgasm, to be brought out slowly by Rosanna Arquette and that model Paulina-somebody, I can't think of her name. Of course my lovely wife can come too and she's behind me one hundred percent here, I guarantee it. Wait a minute, maybe the sex thing should be the first wish, so if I made that the first wish, because it could all go boom tomorrow, then what do you got, y'know? No, no, the kids, the kids singing would be great, that would be nice. But wait a minute, who am I kidding? They're not going to be able to get all those kids together. I mean, the logistics of the thing is impossible, more trouble than it's worth! So -- we reorganize! Here we go. First, the sex thing. We go with that. Second, the money. No, we got with the power second, then the money. And then the kids. Oh wait, oh jeez, I forgot about revenge against my enemies! Okay, I need revenge against all my enemies, they should die like pigs in hell! That would be my fourth wish. And, of course, my fifth wish would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace. Thank you everybody and Merry Christmas. There once was a child called Kevin McUgly "everyone likes me", he boasted quite smuggly. The towns people loved him they thought he was great! Except for Lord Grumbles whose heart ached with hate! "I hate that McUgly," Lord Grumbles would shout. "So happy-go-lucky! I want that kid out!" He worked and he toiled from dusk until dawn on an evil machine that would make Kevin gone. "Its perfect!" cried Grumbles, admiring his work. "Behold my creation!, Behold RoboJerk! He's mean as the devil and rude and uncouth, He's perfect to help me get rd of that youth!" So one day, a Monday, sweet Kevin did run! He was playing a game and having great fun! Playing tag, hide and seek, swinging swings at the park, nobody noticed two eyes in the dark. The robot sat silent computing the vectors compiling the data from all his detectors awaiting the signal his boss would transmit, when all of a sudden from nowhere, "your it!" A quality robot will do as commanded. So he joined in their game and was not underhanded. The robot felt joy and the feeling was nice! Lord Grumbles watched through his surveillance device. "That Robot!" yelled Grumbles. "He's got a malfunction!, He's ruined my plan at this critical junction! Obey me!" He ordered. "Demolish!, Destroy!, Do whatever it takes to get rid of that boy!" The robot stood rigid, his eyes filled with rage, his levels shot off of his evilness gauge, but try as he might he could not find an angle of Kevin's thick neck for which he could strangle. He threw him in water in hopes he would drown, but buoyant young Kevin just floated around. He heaved Kevin into the Zoo's tiger pit, but Kevin, so social just made friends with it. "What gives!" said the robot, frustration gauge filled. "The boy is a monster!, He can not be killed!" "But wait!" said a stranger. "I know just the trick! Feed him these beans and he will fall deathly sick!" But suddenly out of the sky, came a meteor! Young Kevin's death just could not have been speedier! Drenched in the blood of the innocent child, Lord Grumbles stared on and finally.....smiled. But hating to end on so morbid a note, the rest of the day was spent on a boat. The End MICKEY: I can't take any more theories. I've written a
column about every single one of them. Repeated infection by a virus, new appearance by a dormant virus, single virus, new virus, old virus, multivirus, partial virus, latent virus
, mutant virus, retrovirus. and we mustn't forget ****ing, sucking,
kissing, blood, voodoo, drugs, poppers, needles, Africa, Haiti, Cuba, blacks, amoebas, pigs, mosquitos, monkeys, Uranus!... What if it isn't any of them? What if it's something out of the blue? The Great Plague of London was caused by polluted drinking water from a pump nobody noticed. Maybe it's a genetic predisposition, or the theory of the herd. only so many of us will get it and then the pool's used up. What if it's monogamy? Bruce, you and I could actually be worse off because of constant bombardment of the virus from a single source our own lovers! Maybe guys who go to the baths regularly have built up the best immunity! I don't know what to tell anybody. And everybody asks me. I don't know who's right? I don't know who's wrong? I feel so inadequate! How can we tell people to stop when it might turn out to be caused by, I don't know! And Ned keeps calling the Mayor a prick and Hiram a prick and the Commissioner a prick and the President and the New York Times, and that's the entire political structure of the entire United States! When are you going to stop your eternal name calling at every person you see? But maybe he's right! And that scares me, too. Neddie, you scare me.Where are all the gay Rockefellers? Do you think the President really wants this to happen? Do you think the CIA really has unleashed germ warfare to kill off all the queers Jerry Falwell doesn't want? Why should they help us; we're actually cooperating with them by dying? I used to love my country. The Native received an anonymous letter describing top secret Defense Department experiments at Fort Detrick, Maryland that have produced a virus that can destroy the immune system. Its code name is Firm Hand. They started testing in 1978 on a group of gays. I never used to believe shit like this before. They are going to persecute us! Cancel our health insurance. Test our blood to see if we're pure. Lock us up. Stone us in the streets. And you think I am killing people? I've spent fifteen years of my life fighting for our right to be free and make love whenever, wherever ..And you're telling me that all those years of what being gay stood for is wrong . . . and I'm a murderer. We have been so oppressed! Don't you remember how it was? Can't you see how important it is for us to love openly, without hiding and without guilt? We were a bunch of funny looking fellows who grew up in sheer misery and one day we fell into the orgy rooms and we thought we'd found heaven. And we would teach the world how wonderful heaven can be. We would lead the way. We would be good for something new. Can't you see that? Can't you?
When I left Hiram's office I went to the top of the Empire State Building to jump of. You can jump off from there if no one is looking. Ned, I'm not a murderer. All my life I've been hated. For one reason or another. For being short, For being Jewish. Jerry Falwell mails out millions of pictures of two men kissing as if that was the most awful sight you could see. Tell everybody we were wrong. And I'm sorry. Someday someone will come along and put the knife in you and say everything you fought for all this time is...shit!
All right. Your asking for it Big Daddy. We're finally going to have that real true talk you wanted. It's too late to stop it, we got to carry it through and cover every subject. Maggie declares that Skipper and I went into pro-football after we left "Ole Miss" because we were scared to grow up... -Wanted to-keep on tossing-those long, long!-high, High!-passes that-couldn't be intercepted except by time, the aerial attack that made us famous! And so we did, we did, we kept it up for one season, that aerial attack, we held it high!-Yeah, but-that summer, Maggie she laid the law down to me, said Now or never, and so I married Maggie...
Great! The Greatest,
She went on the road that fall with the Dixie stars. Oh, she made a great show of being the world's best spot. She wore a wore a tall bearskin cap! A shako, they call it a dyed moleskin coat a moleskin coat dyed red! cut up crazy! Rented hotel ballrooms for victory celebrations, wouldn't cancel them when it turned out defeat.. Maggie The Cat! Ha ha! But skipper, he had some fever which came back on him which docotors couldnt explain and I got that injury- turned out to be just a shadow on the xray plate and a touvh of bursitis. I lay on the hospital bed, watched our games on Tv, saw Maggie on the bench next to Skipper when he was hauled out of the game for stumbles, fumbles!-burned me up the way she hung on his arm!-Y'know I think that Maggie had always felt sorta left out because she never got any closer together than two people just get in bed, which is not much closer than two cats on a fence humping... So! So took this time to work on poor dumb Skipper. He was a less than average student at Ole Miss, you know that don't you!? Poured in his mind the dirty false idea that what we were, him and me was a frustrated case that ole pair of sister that lived in this room, Jack Straw and Peter Ochello! He poor, Skipper, went to bed with Maggie to prove it wasnt true! Skipper broke in two like a rotten stick nobody ever turned so fast to a lush or died so quick... Now are you satisfied?
Lie Number One: All this squeamishness she puts on! You should just know the line she's been feeding to Mitch--He thought she had never been more than kissed by a fellow! But Sister Blanche is no lily!
Our supply-man down at the plant has been going through Laurel for years and he knows all about her and everybody else in the town of Laurel knows all about her. She is as famous in Laurel as if she was the President of the United States, only she is not respected by any party! This supply-man stops at a hotel called the Flamingo. She's stayed there too.
This is after the home-place had slipped through her lily white fingers! She moved to the Flamingo! A second class hotel which has the advantage of not interfering in the private social life of the personalities there! The Flamingo is used to all kinds of goings-on. But even the management of the Flamingo was impressed by Dame Blanche! In fact they were so impressed by Dame Blanche that they requested her to turn in her room-key--for permanently! This happened a couple of weeks before she showed here.
Sure, I can see how you would be upset by this. She pulled the wool over your eyes as much as Mitch's!
Honey, I told you I thoroughly checked on these stories! Now wait till I finish. The trouble with Dame Blanche was that she couldn't put on her act any more in Laurel! They got wised up after two or three dates with her and then they quit, and she goes on to another, the same old line, same old act, same old hooey! But the town was too small for this to go on forever! And as time went by she became a town character. Regarded as not just different but downright loco--nuts.
And for the last year or two she has been washed up like poison. That's why she's here this summer, visiting royalty, putting on all this act--because she's practically told by the mayor to get out of town! Yes, did you know there was an army camp near Laurel and your sister's was one of the places called "Out-of-Bounds"? Well, so much for her being such a refined and particular type of girl. Which brings us to Lie Number Two.
She didn't resign temporarily from the high school because of her nerves! No, siree, Bob! She didn't. They locked her out of that high school before the spring term ended--and I hate to tell you the reason that step was taken! A seventeen-year-old boy--she'd gotten mixed up with!
And when the boy's dad learned about it and got in touch with the high school superintendent. Oh, I'd like to have been in that office when Dame Blanche was called on the carpet! I'd like to have seen her trying to squirm out of that one! But they had her on the hook good and proper that time and she knew that the jig was all up! They told her she better move on to some fresh territory. Yep, it was practickly a town ordinance passed against her!
You Indians have been deceitful. By talking to that devil Tecumseh and by allowing Indians like him, the British, the Spanish to move secretly through these smiling little Creek towns, you've conspired to-(flabbergasted)
I mean, you people are despicable creatures! You show no loyalty to anything, your music is terrible, your table manners suck, and your painting skills are absolutely dreadful. I mean look at this. (pulls out a primitive drawing of a buffalo)\No artistic vision. You're savages: you're soulless, Godless and well you get the point. Now, I could have every acre of your land taken away from you. And, urn,hmm ...(briefly mulling it over, then sharply) Yeah, I think that's exactly what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna do whatever it is that I want to do, and what I want to do is to take 20 million acres of your richest lands and sequester you all to a tiny smelly bug infested reservation in a swampy corner of Florida, and so that's what's going to happen. And, that's what's gonna happen right NOW
I'd like to tell you what I'm feeling right now. Because I'm feeling like this whole thing is really f***** and that it's really unfair and frankly it's starting to get on my nerves and it's also starting to hurt my feelings. And, you can say, whatever, that I've killed a lot of people, that I'm a cowboy or murderer or even that I represent the national character of this country. Because I kind of do. But I'm
also a person, a really sensitive person. And, I worked so, so hard for this sh**. You saw me. You saw me out there. Campaigning and stuff. And, then to take it away, to take it
away so egregiously- well, it's just unfair and I don't know what else I need to tell you other than that. And I know you probably think I'm an ******* for saying it. And I know you probably think that I'm-
And, like, I mean, guys, just like ... (whimpers)
Uh! F*** you.
And so, when I cast my mind back to that summer of 1936, different kinds of memories offer themselves to me. But there is one memory of that Lughnasa time that visits me most often; and what fascinates me about that memory is that it owes nothing to fact. In that memory atmosphere is more real than incident and everything is simultaneously actual and illusory. In that memory, too, the air is nostalgic with the music of the thirties. It drifts in from somewhere far away -a mirage of sound- a dream music that is both heard and imagined; that seems to be both itself and its own echo; a sound so alluring and so mesmeric that the afternoon is bewitched, maybe haunted, by it. And what is so strange about that memory is that everybody seems to be floating on those sweet sounds, moving rhythmically, languorously, in complete isolation; responding more to the mood of the music than to the beat. When I remember it, I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to movement as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuage notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary. I can throw up whenever I want. Really though. I don't need to like stick my finders down my throat or anything. I can just do it, if I want. Sometimes, you know, just to feel better. Or, like to gross people out, or something. I was playing hockey? I play hockey. I was playing and this dude on the other team, he was a real agitator. And he kept creeping all over me, he was annoying you know? He was just annoying. And so I made myself throw up a little bit in my mouth? And I spat it on him. Man! He got so grossed out he started to cry. And then I was like, skating all over the place. I scored a goal. We lost, But I still scored a goal....... I tore my Achilles tendon last summer. I was riding on the handle bars. Tod Scott was riding and I was on the handlebars and we were speeding down the noble road hill and my foot got caught in the spokes and I go flipped off the bike. I also got 10 stitches to my face. But also, I tore my Achilles tendon. I'm accident prone. That's what my mom says I am. St Marget Mary's blew up. It exploded. It closed down like ten years ago. It was used by the diocese for storage. There was a leaking gas main. Kaboom. And I work in insurance now. I'm a claims adjuster. I know.... But I got to go and investigate the wreckage. go over and the place is collapsed. So I hoist myself up there and I'm walking on the roof and then I stepped through a weak board or something and this upright nail went clear through my foot. It was about eight inches long. The board with the nail in it - that board snapped through another board and I broke my leg in three places. It took them five hours to get me out. And then I got an infection. And that's why I have this cane now. But listen: I'm up there, you know? Stuck up there, waiting for them to come and get me. And there were these severed heads of a bunch of Saints that had ended up all over the place, and they were just staring at me. And this owl was there too. And so I lean over and grab the little guy. I was in some serious pain, you know? And I just gripped him close to me, because.... Because all of a sudden, I was like, Where the **** is Kayleen? You know? All of a sudden, everything was clear...trapped up on that roof, impaled, surrounded by all the angels and saints...That's my life up there, Leenie. That's my life without you............ Its Stigmata! f** him. f** him f** him f** him. You know what, Kayleen? Jesus Christ, you know, I came to your house last year and your Dad was there, and I know he hates my guts, he always has, and he's like She is where she is. I don't know where the girl is. He said he didn't care and didn't care to know. And I was about to leave, but I didn't. I didn't and I said to that son of a bitch... (He turns to the funeral home and shouts at it.) You remember a**h***? You dead piece of shit?! You remember what I said to you?! I said to him, you are f***ing WORTHLESS. You have a daughter and she is a gift from God. She is the most perfect being to ever walk this earth and you don't even know it. And she loves you because you're her stupid father. But you've never loved her back you've just damaged her and ****ed her up, and never even bothered to notice she's this ANGEL. So F*** YOU C***S***ER (beat.) And then I told him I hoped he'd die alone. Which he did. So I feel a little guilty about that now. (Beat.) I him f. f*** him f*** him f** him. You know what, Kayleen? Jesus Christ, you know, I came to your house last year and your Dad was there, and I know he hates my guts, he always has, and he's like She is where she is. I don't know where the girl is. He said he didn't care and didn't care to know. And I was about to leave, but I didn't. I didn't and I said to that son of a bitch... (He turns to the funeral home and shouts at it.) You remember ah*? You dead piece of shit?! You remember what I said to you?! I said to him, you are f*ing WORTHLESS. You have a daughter and she is a gift from God. She is the most perfect being to ever walk this earth and you don't even know it. And she loves you because you're her stupid father. But you've never loved her back you've just damaged her and **ed her up, and never even bothered to notice she's this ANGEL. So F* YOU C*S**ER (beat.) And then I told him I hoped he'd die alone. Which he did. So I feel a little guilty about that now. (Beat.) I can take care of you, Leenie. What do you see? Wait. Stand Closer. You've got to get close. Let it pulsate. Let it work on you. Closer. Too close. There. Let it spread out. Let it wrp its arms around you; let it embrace you, filling even your peripheral vision so nothing else exists or has ever existed or will ever exist. Let the picture do its work - but work with it. Meet it halfway for Godssake! Lean for-word, lean into it. Engage it! Now what do you see? Wait, wait, wait! So, now, what do you see? - Be specific. No be exact. Be exact, but sensitive. you understand? Be kind. Be a human being, thats all i can say. Be a human being for once in your life! These pictures deserve compassion and they live or die in the eye of the sensitive viewer, they quicken only if the empathic viewer will let them. That is what they cry out for. That is why they were created. That is what they deserve Now what do you see? Red? But do you like it? Of course you like it - how can you not like it? everyone likes everything nowadays. They like television and the phonograph and the soda pop and the shampoo and the cracker jack. everything becomes everything else and its all nice and pretty and likeable! Everything is fun in the sun! where is the discernment? Where is the arbitration that separates what I like from what i respect, what i deem worthy, what has.. Listen to me now " significance" Maybe this is a dinosaur talking. Maybe I'm a dinosaur sucking up the oxygen from you cunnining little mammals hiding in the bushes waiting to take over. Maybe I am speaking a lost language unknown to your generation. But a generation that does not aspire to seriousness, to meaning, is unworthy to walk in the shadow of those who have gone before, I mean those who have struggled and surmounted, I mean those who have aspired, I mean Rembrandt, I mean Turner, I mean Michelangelo and Matisse, I mean obviously Rothko. Do you aspire? Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favor.
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't;
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service;
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes
And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
To any other trust but that I am mad
Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch
With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing
As I perceive she does: there's something in't
That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes.
'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honorable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
But Romeo may not. He is banishèd.
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.
They are free men, but I am banishèd.
And sayst thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But "banishèd" to kill me?—"Banishèd"!