Journalism is just a gun. It's only got one bullet in it, but if you aim right, that's all you need. Aim it right, and you can blow a kneecap off the world.
A Kenyan man once said to me "you can get used to everything when money's involved". He used to stick mice up his ass for twenty bucks a time.
There's one hole in any revolution, large or small—people. No matter how big an idea they stand under, people are small and weak and cheap and frightened. It's people that kill every revolution.
Fred Christ—A Penis with a Promise.
So this zealot comes to my door, all glazed eyes and clean reproductive organs, asking if I ever think about God. So I tell him I killed God. I tracked God down like a rabid dog, hacked off his legs with a hedge trimmer, raped him with a corncob and boiled off his corpse in a acid bath.
So he pulls an alternating current Taser on me and tells me that only the official Serbian Church of Tesla can save my polyphase intrinsic electric field, known to non-engineers as the "Soul."
So I hit him. What would you do?
One day I'm going to drop a bomb on this city. A contraceptive bomb.
The truth, Yelena, always. No matter what.
No, I'm not dead. I cannot die. My own assistants tried to kill me, but like Rasputin, I notice not the poison and laugh at their icepicks. Shoot me in the lungs and I'll snarl and spit nicotine tar at you from the bullet holes.
Did you ever want to set someone's head on fire just to see what it looked like? Did you ever stand in the street and think to yourself, 'I could make that nun go blind just by giving her a kiss?' Did you ever lay out plans for stitching babies and stray cats into a Perfect New Human? Did you ever stand naked surrounded by people who want your gleaming sperm, squirting frankincense, soma and testosterone from every pore?
If so, then you're the bastard who stole my drugs Friday night. And I will find you. Oh, yes.
[hopping from car roof to car roof] Silence, vermin! I am in command here! Who did you vote for, vermin woman? Did you vote? Can you read? Have you got thumbs? Show me your fucking thumbs! Thumbs!
Never believe your own press, Jerusalem.
[To Spider] Here. Have a drink. I've fucking poisoned it.
Oh, is that your problem with me? That I don't believe in anything? Or that I don't believe in anything you like?
That's the way it is. Life sucks. Wear a hat.
Look, my job isn't to make everything beautiful. My job isn't to make living life a good time. My job is to keep the majority of people in this country alive. That's it. If fifty-one percent eat a meal tomorrow and forty-nine percent don't, I've done my job. That is the absolute fucking limit of what can be done...You might not think that's the way a president should behave. But you know...that's fuckin' tough.
If the President of the United States does it, it can't be a crime...That's a joke, by the way.
No matter who you are, there's always someone to squeeze you into doing the right thing. Unless you're the President, of course.
Yes, General, I am masturbating into the American Flag. It relaxes me. Do you have a problem with that? Would you rather that I used you?
You fucked with me, Jerusalem. With. Me. And I will destroy you for that.
If the president does it, then it's not a crime. (Sound familiar?)
[On Spider] It's like working with a four-year-old boy with a massive caffeine high and a permanent and yet very small erection.
When I say "run like fuck and commit assault on a police officer several times," run like fuck and commit assault on a police officer several times.
The Twentieth century gave the human race its score card. Kardashev and Dyson made concrete the notion of type one, type two and type three civilizations.
A type one civilization has mastered its planet, inside out, is utilizing the world's entire energy potential and has wiped away all the internal struggles of its race.
A type two civilization has energy needs so massive that it can only be met by physically harnessing the sun.
In the type three scenario, the civilization has gone galactic, extracting energy on an interstellar basis.
We can make magic with engines smaller than a virus, and yet, just today, twenty-four people in this city alone will die from having walked into the wrong district or community. We are still not even a type one civilization. This remains a zero society.
— Amfeed Broadcast
Spider Jerusalem: Listen to the Chair Leg of Truth! It does not lie! What does it say? It says "Shut up, Fred!" Can you hear it?
Fred Christ: You've gone mad—
Spider Jerusalem: Can you hear it?
Fred Christ: YES!