Carine McCandless:
[voice-over] The year Chris graduated high school, he bought the Datsun used and drove it cross-country. He stayed away most of the summer. As soon as I heard he was home, I ran into his room to talk to him. In California, he'd looked up some old family friends. He discovered that our parents' stories of how they fell in love and got married were calculated lies masking an ugly truth. When they met, Dad was already married. And even after Chris was born, Dad had had another son with his first wife, Marcia, to whom he was still legally married. This fact suddenly redefined Chris and me as bastard children. Dad's arrogance made him conveniently oblivious to the pain he caused. And Mom, in the shame and embarassment of a young mistress, became his accomplice in deceit. The fragility of crystal is not a weakness but a fineness. My parents understood that a fine crystal glass had to be cared for or it may be shattered. But when it came to my brother, they did not seem to know or care that their course of secret action brought the kind of devastation that could cut them. Their fraudulent marriage and our father's denial of his other son was, for Chris, a murder of every day's truth. He felt his whole life turn, like a river suddenly reversing the direction of its flow, suddenly running uphill. These revelations struck at the core of Chris' sense of identity. They made his entire childhood seem like fiction. Chris never told them he knew and made me promise silence, as well.
President Kennedy:
[addressing the NPIC photograph analyst] Okay - let's have it.
NPIC Photo Interpreter:
Gentlemen, as most of you now know, a U-2 over Cuba Sunday morning took a series of disturbing photographs. Our analysis at NPIC indicates that the Soviet Union has followed up its conventional weapons build-up in Cuba with the introduction of surface-to-surface, medium-range ballistic missiles, or MRBMs. Our official estimate at this time is that the missile system is the SS-4 'Sandal'. We do not believe that the missiles are as yet operational. Iron Bark reports that the SS-4 can deliver a 3-megaton nuclear weapon 1,000 miles. So far we've identified 32 missiles serviced by about 3400 men, undoubtedly all Soviet personnel. Our cities and military installations in the southeast as far north as Washington, D.C., are in range of these weapons, and in the evnt of a launch would have only 5 minutes warning.
General Marshall Carter:
5 minutes, gentlemen.
Gen. Max Taylor:
In those 5 minutes, they could kill 80 million Americans - and destroy a significant percentage of our bomber bases, degrading our retaliatory options. The Joint Chiefs' consensus, Mr. President, is that this signals a major doctrinal shift in Soviet thinking - to a first-strike policy. It is a massively destabilizing move.
Robert Kennedy:
How long until they're operational?
NPIC Photo Interpreter:
General Carter can answer that question better than I can.
Gen. Max Taylor:
GMAC - Guided Missiles Intelligence Committee - estimates 10-14 days. A crash program could limit that time. However, I must stress that there may be more missiles - that we don't know about. We'll need more U-2 coverage.
President Kennedy:
Gentlemen, I want first reactions here. Assuming for the moment that Khruschev has NOT gone off the deep end - and intends to start World War 3 - what are we looking at?
Dean Rusk:
Mr. President, I believe my team is in agreement. If we permit the introduction of nuclear missiles to a Soviet satellite nation in our hemisphere, the diplomatic consequnces will be too terrible to contemplate. The Russians are trying to show the world they can do whatever they want, wherever they want, and we're powerless to stop them. If they succeed...
Robert Kennedy:
It'll be Munich all over again.
Dean Rusk:
Yes. Appeasement only makes the aggressor more aggressive. And the Soviets will be emboldened to push us even harder. Now we must remove the missiles one way or another. Now it seems to me the options are either some combination of international pressure & action on our part, until they give in - or - we hit them. An air strike.
Fred:
I've heard about physical attraction before, chemically I understand it but I've never experienced it.
Jane Bingum:
What, you've never had a crush?
Fred:
Up there all I meet are dead people.
Jane Bingum:
Well, forget it, okay? Stacey's out of your league. You'll be setting yourself up for a world of hurt.
Fred:
No no no, you don't understand! I look at this Stacey, and I, and I can't help it. I wanna, I wanna do her grocery shopping, wanna, wanna re-roof her house. I wanna... hunt animals and bring her the MEAT.
Reed Rothchild:
TODD... PARKER!
Todd Parker:
Rockin' Reed Rothchild!
Reed Rothchild:
You made it! Woo-Hoo!
Todd Parker:
Amazing party, man! Fuckin' chicks everywhere!
Reed Rothchild:
You bet. Compliments of Jack Horner. Thank you.
Todd Parker:
I wouldn't mind me having a piece of that action right over there.
Reed Rothchild:
Michelle; I'll introduce you.
Todd Parker:
Sure, introduce her to my lap!
Reed Rothchild:
Ha ha. You just get off of work, man?
Todd Parker:
Don't dance Sunday nights.
Reed Rothchild:
Right.
Todd Parker:
Who's 'vette is that out in the driveway?
Reed Rothchild:
DIRK! I'm so jealous.
Todd Parker:
That shit's jammin', man.
Todd Parker:
Start down low with a 350 cube, three and a quarter horsepower, 4-speed, 4:10 gears, ten coats of competition orange, hand-rubbed lacquer with a huplane manifold,
Todd Parker:
Full fuckin' race cams. Whoo!
Robert F. Kennedy:
[voiceover] This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives. It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours. Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet. No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason. Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded. "Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lose their cause and pay the costs." Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire. Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them. Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul. For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter. This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all. I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered. We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers. Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence. We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge. Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution. But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can. Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.
Mohtz:
That tattoo on your arm. Is that airborne?
Jonah:
The 182nd. Gulf War, 1991.
Mohtz:
Hmm. Mine here is the 405th Infantry. Outside of Da Nang, South Vietnam, 1968. Whole platoon got wiped out, but it wasn't Charlie.
Jonah:
You're shitting me. Friendly fire killed your whole platoon?
Mohtz:
No, no, not exactly. One night, me and the C.O. were pulling guard duty, and we're sharing a joint... Thai Stick. I'm really stoned. And all of a sudden, we see this streak of light across the sky. Zoom! Waaa! And it looks like it lands about two klicks northeast of camp. So the C.O. says, "I'm gonna check it out." I said, "go ahead, cap man". More doobie for me, you know. So off he goes and uh... it could have been 10 minutes or two hours. I don't know. I was stoned. But he comes back and I notice that he's acting weird. But now, oh... now, no problem, it's just the Thai Stick kicking in. Well man, pretty soon he starts jumping around like his pants are on fire. I'm not shittin' you. And he... off comes his pants. He rips them off. Rips his skivvies off. Now I got my C.O. standing there in front of me, buck naked from the waist down. And then something happened, man, that... uh... boot camp did not prepare me for. This guy's pecker... his dick, ripped itself off his body and slithered towards the tent. So, the C.O.'s screaming like hell before he expires. Pretty soon, I can't hear him because dozens of screams are coming from the tents where all the platoon was. Want to know what the hell it sounded like? I think it sounded like... 30 men getting massacred by a dick as it shoved itself through them in rapid speed. So, I went over and hid behind a rock for about an hour and had to listen to my whole platoon being murdered. I think I heard one guy getting a shot or two off, but he then screamed as he got killed too. So, after it stopped... I very cautiously, believe me, crept into the officers tent to get a radio to get some air support and... I see the dick lying there on a sleeping bag and it looks like it's looking right back at me. But it looked, you know, fucking weak, man. And it was like in this, you know, shriveled... what kind of period do you call it?
T.J.:
A refractory period. Happens just after sex.
Mohtz:
Yeah, yeah, you know, I could have killed it right then, but I was so stoned I was afraid that I'd miss. And on the other hand, I knew it was only a matter of time before... you know, it would be back in action again. So, without taking my eyes off it, I get on the radio and have them chopper in two Saigon whores. So, for the next half-hour, I'm holding my weapon on this dick lying on a sleeping back in the blood-splattered tent. Now, I figured it won't know I'm stoned, so he won't jump me, you know? So, the chopper arrived just in time, thank God, because now the dick was getting big and hard. So, I tell the two whores when they showed up in the tent, "look, hey, I'll do anything, man. I'll take you to the States, anything, if you just lie down there and spread your legs for me." Well, I guess "states" was the magic word because I never two Vietnamese whores taking off their panties and clothes so quickly in all your life. Now, the dick must have smelled dinner because... choo! It makes a beeline for the whores. So I watch, and I wait, and watch. Finally, finally it blows it's load, I grabbed it, and ran it outside the tent. I threw it in a bunker. God... Jesus Christ man! About 10 seconds later, out runs about 15 gooks. And I could have nailed any one of them but no, I made a priority decision. Threw in a grenade. Yelled, "fire in the hole!" Fa-foom! Well, guess what. Now it's raining dick. Yeah, raining dick! I crawled into a whisky bottle. I got back to the States and I've been in there ever since.
Rob Moore:
The last person to come out here and not know the password was found with an arrow in his forehead and burned to death. And do you know why he was found burned with an arrow in his head?
Jack Loot:
I got it! He was juggling apples, but there was this girl there and he really wanted to impress her. So he picked out some sharp arrows and started juggling those. Now, the girl was like, "Oh Honey, you're so brave, please be careful!" And he was all like, "Don't worry, I'm a trained professional, I do this all the time, baby!" But the thing is, he was also a chain smoker, so he had a cigarette hanging from his lips when he was saying all this. Next thing ya know, cigarette falls from his lips and goes under his shirt, catches fire - then while in mid-air, the arrow falls! He's so concerned about the fire in his shirt that he forgets about the arrows at first. But then he looks up and Wham! No longer is he just burning, but now he also has an arrow in his head! That's what happened, isn't it? That's the sad sick chain reaction of events that took that poor man's life, isn't it, Rob?
Rob Moore:
No, he gave an incorrect password!
Jack Loot:
Well that was my third choice.
O-Ren Ishii:
[after she cuts off Tanaka's head, in Japanese] So you all will know the seriousness of my warning, I shall say this in English.
O-Ren Ishii:
[in English] As your leader, I encourage you from time to time, and always in a respectful manner, to question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so, but allow me to convince you and I promise you right here and now, no subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here. Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time! [pause]
O-Ren Ishii:
I didn't think so.
O-Ren Ishii:
[calmly, in Japanese] Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.
Brock Kelley:
You don't want us to win games?
Grant Taylor:
No. Not if that's our main goal. Winning football games is too small a thing to live for. And I love football as much as anybody. But even championship trophies will collect dust and one day be forgotten. It's just that so far this has all been about us; how we can look good, how we can get the glory. The more I read this book, the more I realize that life's not about us. We're not here to get glory, make money, and die. The Bible says that God put us here for Him. To honour Him. Jesus said that the most important thing you can do with your life is to love God with everything you are, to love others and yourself. So if we win every game and we miss that, we've done nothing. Football then means nothing. So I'm here to present you a new team philosophy. I think that football is just one of the tools we use to honor God.
Brock Kelley:
So you think that God does care about football?
Grant Taylor:
I think He cares about your faith. He cares about where your heart is. And if you can live your faith out on the football field then yes, God cares about football because He cares about you. He sent His son Jesus to die for us so we could live for Him. That's why we're here. But see, it's not just on the football field; we've got to honor Him in our relationships, our respect for authority, in the classroom, and when you're at home alone surfing the internet. I want God to bless this team so much that people talk about what He did. But it means we got to give Him our best in every area. If we win, we praise Him. And if we loose, we praise Him. Either way, we honour Him with our actions and our attitudes. So I'm asking you: what are you living for? I've resolved to give God everything I've got. Then I'll leave the results up to Him. I want to know if you'll join me?
Master Control:
[monitor activates] I am Master Control, computer of the future.
Billy:
Aaahh! [jumps on Grim's arms]
Grim:
That'd better be sweat dripping down your leg, boy.
Master Control:
I am programmed to run all of the machines at this attraction. My intelligence is beyond measure, I know everything there is to know, and I'm not too shabby at checkers.
Grim:
Wait, how can you know *everything*?
Master Control:
I just do, so there.
Grim:
If you know everything, then what's the meaning of life?
Master Control:
Life has no meaning, only machine intelligence is truly important on a cosmic scale.
Grim:
Hmm, I didn't think he'd get that one right.
Billy:
Oh, yeah? Then what's my favorite color?
Master Control:
Blue.
Billy:
What's the best kind of bean?
Master Control:
Pinto.
Billy:
Why is the sky blue?
Master Control:
Because of the refraction of sunlight through the water droplets in the sky.
Billy:
Why do I ask so many questions?
Master Control:
Because you're stupid!
Billy:
What's the color of my underwear?
Master Control:
White... [raises an eyebrow]
Master Control:
... with pink frilly lace.
Billy:
[checks in his pants] Wow. It really does know everything.
Chris Berman:
From Champs to chumps. Just six months ago, The Texas State Fighting Armadillos were billed as the greatest college football team in history, and now, they are history. Yesterday, the commision slapped Texas State with a staggering list of infractions including recruiting violations, steroid abuse, illegal payments to players and , of course, grade tampering. To where these guys are going, their yearbook photos will be used as mugshots. Joining us tonight is our guest commentator, the legendary Ed "Straight Arrow" Gennero, the man who once threw five All-Americans off his football team for taking money from boosters, but still won the Cotton Bowl. Thanks for joining us tonight, coach.
Coach Gennero:
Good to be here, Chris.
Chris Berman:
Coach, what's the latest on the Armadillos?
Coach Gennero:
Well, Chris, the penalty handed down to Texas State will set an example for the future of College Football.
Chris Berman:
What happened to the players?
Coach Gennero:
All the players from the old team have been expelled and all the coaches have been fired.
Chris Berman:
Where will they get their new players?
Coach Gennero:
Their new players must be real students. No more scholarships, no more monkey business, no more special favors or else no more football.
Eldest Son:
When you're young, and the woman in your hands is young, you're provoked by the life in her skin, in the muscles under her skin. You can smell life in the sweet perfume of her sweat and her breath, sweet perfume that can make you dizzy. You can sense life in the jittery convulsions of her reactions to every new touch and sensation. And you feel young and alive and jolted by excitement every time you come near her. But the older you get, the older the woman in your hands gets, you grow lulled by the lazy response of her flesh to your touch. Lulled by the numb response of your own nerves to her flesh. By the sluggish torpor of her muscles. The souring perfume of her sweat, of her tears. The souring smell of her old guts belching out air. And it's a curse. Because getting older doesn't make you like being with an old woman any more than you did when you were young. It's worse really, because it lacks even the thrill of novelty of the forbidden. She's just old and she reminds you that you're old, and that your old shell is still taking up space, but that it's life is almost gone.
Eldest Son:
But nothing is worse than being old and holding youth in your hands, even youth that's thrilled by the novelty of you, because you can still smell youth's sweetness, feel the spring of muscles under taut skin, but you know isn't yours. You're not sharing in it, but are feeding off it like some kind of vampire. And you wonder what the point is - what the point of going on living, the point of loving, the point of touching. And all your instincts, your training, have made you too afraid to pull the trigger and end it yourself. To take responsibility that nature's abdicated into your own trembling weakening hands. You stare at those hands, studying them, wondering what they are, why you can't make them do what you want them to do. You stare down at your hands and you realize that even your own hands aren't really yours any more.
Eldest Son:
And you look up from your hands into the mirror, and you see a face that you recognize, a face you've been staring at your entire life, for eternity. And you remember that the face is yours, but you have no idea who you are any more. And the person you once were, who had any kind of cohesiveness or connection to himself, feels a million miles away. Like the native of some alien planet you visited long ago, in another lifetime.
[a hotel employee hands Nick Schaffer his bill]
Nick Schaffer:
What's this $110?
Hotel Clerk:
Those are your in-room movies.
Nick Schaffer:
No, I didn't watch any movies.
Hotel Clerk:
Okay, let's see... Afro Whores.
Nick Schaffer:
Afro Whores?
Hotel Clerk:
You watched it... let's see... uh, 11 times.
Nick Schaffer:
No, no, no...
Hotel Clerk:
Afro Whores, 2:30. Afro Whores, 4 o'clock. Afro Whores, 5:30. It says in the morning you watched The Grinch for ten minutes and then switched back over to Afro Whores.
Nick Schaffer:
I swear I didn't watch it. Okay? I was at a bachelor party. There were 35 people there. You can ask any of them. You have to take that off my record.
Hotel Clerk:
This is not a record, sir.
Nick Schaffer:
It... It's a delete.
Hotel Clerk:
Okay, fine. How many times *did* you watch it?
Nick Schaffer:
None! I didn't watch it!
Hotel Clerk:
Are you sure? "Sizzling, three-way, backdoor action featuring two sexy soul sisters... ”
Nick Schaffer:
[screaming] I don't need to know what it's about! I did not watch it! I didn't. [hotel clerk raises her eyebrows]
