One time I was diving the sky over this shopping mall. And I thought, I just won’t pull the cord. All these folks will be shopping and shit and—BOOM—I’ll come through the ceiling right on their fat suburban asses.

But I didn’t do it. I could have, but I didn’t. ’Cause I’d realized while I was falling in the air down to the shopping center, What difference does it make? You know? I mean if I had been a Nazi at the Siege of Stalingrad I’d be just a frozen corpse chewing on some icy dirt. But if I were Barbra Streisand I’d be in a hot tub watching the sun set.

So I think, OK, get a gun. Blow some minds. I mean even Ed Gein was happy they put him in jail. It’s like OK, it’s just one more thing. They got TV in jail too, you dig.

Otherwise, it’s just playing into the hands of the computers. Every year goes by, the computers think faster, figure out human desire better. We’re running around watching videos, climbing all over each other like crabs in a bottle, while our sperm count goes down, down, down.

It’s like this, something rocks the boat, make it a sin. The worse the sin, the better it feels. But don’t do it. No fucking around. No taking drugs. No stealing. But all that shit’s the stuff the big cats do all the time. All the time. They do everything bad. That’s why they want to be big rich motherfuckers in the first place, so they can do the bad shit. Then one day, when they seventy-five years old, they wake up in the middle of the night and go, “Oh shit, I’ve been an asshole all this time. Sorry.”

So I say, put a bullet in the chamber, lock and load, motherfucker. You know? You know what I’m saying? Do you? Draw a line in the sand … pick a victim, it really don’t make no diff who. Let’s face it, just a bunch of ants. You ever step on ants? Sure you did.

VICTIM

Limping. Shaking a cigarette out of a pack.