The genius of Bill Hicks

Bill winding up his show – known to most people from his ‘Relentless’ album.

Sheer unalloyed Libertarianism.

For Rantin’ Rab.

Here is my final point, oh thank you God. About drugs, about alcohol, about pornography, whatever that is. What business is it of yours what I do, read, buy, see, or take into my body as
long as I do not harm another human being on this planet? And for those of you out there
who’re having a little moral dilemma in your head about how to answer that question, I’ll
answer it for you – none of your fucking business. Take that to the bank, cash it, and go
fucking on a vacation out of my life.


But see, here’s their argument for that, each and every time: “But we have to protect the
children, we have to protect the children.” Let me tell you something, children are smarter than
any of us, you know how I know that? I don’t know one child with a full-time job and children.
Yeah, they’re quick, these kids, man. They’re fucking quick.


But where did this veneration of childbirth come from, I missed that meeting, I tell you that.
“Oh, childbirth is such a miracle, it’s such a miracle.”
Wrong.


No more of a miracle than eating food and a turd coming out of your ass. You know what a
miracle is? A miracle is raising a kid who doesn’t talk in a fucking movie theatre, there’s your
goddamned miracle. If it were a miracle, then not every nine months any yin-yang in that world
can drop a litter of these mewling fucking cabbages on the planet, and in case you have not
checked the single mom statistics lately – the miracle is spreading like fucking wildfire.


Hallelujah!


Trailer parks, all over America, filling up with little miracles. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
“Look at all my little miracles.” THUNK. THUNK. “Filling up my trailer like a sardine can.”
THUNK. THUNK. “You know what’d be a real miracle, if I could remember your daddy’s
name, goddamn it.” THUNK. “I guess I’ll have to call you Trucker Jr. That’s all I remember
about your daddy, was his fuzzy little pot-belly riding on top of me, shooting his caffeineridden
semen into my belly, to produce my little water-head miracle baby-child.” THUNK.
“There’s your brother, Pizza Boy Delivery Jr.” THUNK. “There’s your other brother,
Exterminator Jr.” THUNK. “There’s your other brother, ‘Will Work For Food Jr.'”

Thank you very much, good night.

Advertisements

4 Responses

  1. Bill is my hero. No question about it.

    Good call Steve.

  2. Fantastic stuff. He is/was a genious.

  3. “You know what a miracle is? A miracle is raising a kid who doesn’t talk in a fucking movie theatre, there’s your goddamned miracle”

    With him all the way on that one. You want to talk – go to a coffee shop. Don’t sit there spouting bloody inanities for 2 hours when I’m trying to watch a film I’ve paid a week’s wages to see*

    *may be a slight exaggeration, but still.

  4. Hicks can be seemingly cruel, but there’s a passion for personal freedom and liberty there that reveals a more sympathetic side.
    I can’t really see any valid arguments against his outlook on life in general – it seems very common-sensical to me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: