Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says "But Doctor... I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh.
None of you understand. I'm not locked in here with you. You're locked in here with me!
Now the whole world stands on the brink staring down into bloody hell. All those liberals and intellectuals...and smooth talkers...and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say. Beneath me, this awful city. It screams like an abattoir full of retarded children and the night reeks of fornication and bad consciences.
Dog carcass in alley this morning. Tire tread on burst stomach.
This city's afraid of me.
I've seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters...and the gutters are full of blood.
And when the drains finally scab over...all the vermin will drown.
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up around their waist and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout, "Save us."
And I'll whisper, "No."
When you walk down the street in a city dying of rabies...past the human cockroaches...talking about their heroin and child pornography...do you really feel normal?
— Is that bean juice?
— Yeah, human bean juice.
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