Saturday, July 24, 2004

Fuck You, Too

Everytime I watch the 25th hour, the scene with Norton in the bathroom talking to himself like a bad horrah movie never fails to stir the jaded native NY'er stuck in my heart. The one who has lived in all 5 boroughs at some point in her existence in that dirty, depressing place. The one that never will forget seeing someone jump out of an office building of their own accord days after 9/11.

But "she" sometimes misses her stinky, dank, beautiful city and a tear is shed.

Then, she gets over it.

fuck You

Heh, fuck you too.
fuck me?
fuck you.
fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
fuck the panhandlers grubbing for money and smiling at me behind my back.
fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car.
Get a fuckin job.
fuck the Seiks and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out of their pores, stinkin' up my day.
Terrorists in fucking training --SLOW THE fuck DOWN!
fuck the Chelsea Boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps, going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jiggling their dicks on my Channel 35!
fuck the Korean Grocers with their pyramids of over-priced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic, ten years in the country still ‘no speaka English.’
fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach.
Mobster thugs sitting in cafes, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and scheming, go back where you fucking came from. fuck the black Haddam in Hasidim strolling up and down 47th Street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff, selling South African Apartite Diamonds.
fuck the Wall Street Brokers, selfuckstout masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe motherfuckers figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life!
You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break.
Tyco, Inclone, Adelphia, Worldcom.
fuck the Puerto Ricans, twenty to a car swelling up the welfare, world's worst fuckin' parade in the city.
And don't even get me started on the Dumb-inicans, cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warmup suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging like Jason Giambi, Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for The Sopranos.
fuck the Upper East Side wives with their hand made scarves, and their fifty dollar Gucci artichokes. Over-fed faces, getting pulled and lifted and stretched all taut and shiny, You're not foolin' anybody, sweetheart!
fuck the Uptown Brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take 5 steps on every layup to the hoop, and then they wanna turn around and blame everything on the White man. Slavery ended One Hundred and Thirty Seven years ago, move the fuck on!
fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41-shots, standing behind the Blue Wall of Silence, You betray our trust!
fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. fuck the church that protects them while delivering us to evil, and while you're at it, fuck J.C. He got off easy, a day on the cross, a weekend in Hell, and all the hallelujas of the leigoned angels for eternity. Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J.
fuck Osama bin Laden, Al Quaeda, and backward-ass, cave dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your 72 whores, roasting in a Jet-Fueled fire in hell. You towel-headed Camel Jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass!
fuck Jacob Elinski, whining, malcontent.
fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
fuck Naturelle Rivera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fuckin' bitch.
fuck my father, with his endless greed, standing behind that bar, sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the rowhouses in Astoria to the Penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho.

From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in park to the split-levels on Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage, let it burn to fuckin ash, and let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat infested place. No.....No, fuck you Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!


I just love how its a "fuck you" anthology, but in the end, only you can fuck anything up.

Fuck you, Ahta!

thanks!

4 Comments:

Blogger BekkaPoo said...

BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.. that's for real... fuck NY. FLORIDA IS THE BOMB. basically anyplace that's not NY is the bomb. NY is so... soo.. soo.. 2001. That's when it all ended, the magic is gone, and it moved somewhere else. Like me..

9:10 PM  
Blogger Ari said...

It's not that the magic is gone more like people have realized what a shit-hole it is and are not enamoured any more. It's a city like everywhere else and it reeks of self-importance and self-loathing all at the same time.

That is just amazing to me. But eh, who cares.

4:05 AM  
Blogger Cabellita said...

ha, thanks for putting this up....
that is one strong FUCK YOU!
then agian; I don't think there is any lighter way to say FUCK YOU..lol

we are all responsible for our own actions...

Captian obvious
lol

4:14 PM  
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12:20 PM  

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