5. Will it harm the environment?

6. Can I evade the safety laws?

7. Will children die from it?

8. Can I overprice it?

9. Can it be falsely advertised?

10. Will it force smaller competitors out of business?

Excellent. Let’s get busy.

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E Pluribus Bullshit

Every time you’re exposed to advertising in America you’re reminded that this country’s most profitable business is still the manufacture, packaging, distribution, and marketing of bullshit. High-quality, grade-A, prime-cut, pure American bullshit.

And the sad part is that most people seem to believe bullshit only comes from certain predictable sources: advertising, politics, salesmen, and lawyers. Not true. Bullshit is everywhere. Bullshit is rampant. Parents are full of shit, teachers are full of shit, clergymen are full of shit, and law enforcement is full of shit. This entire country is completely full of shit—and always has been. From the Declaration of Independence to the Constitution to the “Star Spangled Banner,” it’s nothing more than one big, steaming pile of red-white-and-blue, all-American bullshit.

Think of how it all started: America was founded by slave owners who informed us, “All men are created equal.” All “men,” except Indians, niggers, and women. Remember, the founders were a small group of unelected, white, male, land-holding slave owners who also, by the way, suggested their class be the only one allowed to vote. To my mind, that is what’s known as being stunningly—and embarrassingly—full of shit. And everybody bought it. All Americans bought it.

And those same Americans continue to show their ignorance with all this nonsense about wanting their politicians to be honest. What are these cretins thinking? Do they realize what they’re wishing for? If honesty were suddenly introduced into American life, everything would collapse. It would destroy this country, because our system is based on an intricate and delicately balanced system of lies.

And I think that somehow, deep down, Americans understand this. That’s why they elected—and reelected—Bill Clinton. Because given a choice, Americans prefer their bullshit right out front, where they can get a good, strong whiff of it. Clinton may have been full of shit, but at least he let you know it. And people like that.

In ’96, Dole tried to hide his bullshit, and he lost. He kept saying, “I’m a plain and honest man.” People don’t believe that. What did Clinton say? He said, “Hi folks! I’m completely full of shit, and how do you like that?” And the people said, “You know what? At least he’s honest. At least he’s honest about being completely full of shit.”

Will They Buy this Bullshit?

It’s the same in the business world. Everyone knows by now all businessmen are completely full of shit; the worst kind of lowlife, criminal cocksuckers you can expect to meet. And the proof is, they don’t even trust each other!

When a businessman sits down to negotiate with another businessman, the first thing he does is assume the other guy is a complete lying prick who’s trying to fuck him out of his money. So he does everything he can to fuck the other guy a little bit faster and a little bit harder. And he does it with a big smile on his face. That big, bullshit businessman’s smile.

And if you’re a customer, that’s when they give you the really big smile! The customer always gets that really big smile as the businessman carefully positions himself directly behind the customer, unzips his pants, and proceeds to “service” the account.

“I’m servicing this account . . .

[pelvic thrust!]

“This customer . . .

[thrust]

“needs

[thrust!]

“service!”

[thrust, thrust, thrust!]

Now you know what they mean when they say, “We specialize in customer service.” Whoever first said, “Let the buyer beware” was probably bleeding from the asshole. But that’s business. That’s business, and business is okay.

Bullshit from the Sky

But folks, I have to tell you, in the bullshit department a businessman can’t hold a candle to a clergyman. Because when it comes to bullshit. Big-time, major-league bullshit. You have to stand in awe—in awe!—of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims: religion. No contest.

Religion—easily—has the Greatest Bullshit Story Ever Told! Think about it: religion has actually convinced people—many of them adults—that there’s an invisible man who lives in the sky and watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And who has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do.

And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to remain and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry, forever and ever, till the end of time. But he loves you!

He loves you, and he needs money! He always needs money. He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, but somehow . . . he just can’t handle money. Religion takes in billions of dollars, pays no taxes, and somehow always needs a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy shit!

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Do you ever get that strange feeling of vuja de? Not déja` vu; vuja de. It’s the distinct sense that, somehow, something that just happened has never happened before. Nothing seems familiar. And then suddenly the feeling is gone. Vuja de.

Spirituality: the last refuge of a failed human. Just another way of distracting yourself from who you really are.

I have a problem with married people who carry their babies in backpacks or frontpacks or slings, or whatever those devices are called. Those baby-carrying devices that seem designed to leave the parent’s hands free to sort through merchandise. Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Natural Fibers, is it too much trouble to ask you to hold the fuckin’ kid? Are you so busy picking out consumer goods and reaching for your credit card that you can’t hold the baby? It’s not an accessory or a small appliance. It’s a baby.

Most of the time people feel okay. Probably it’s because at that moment they’re not actually dying.

You know what I like about the American form of government? They’ve worked things out so that you’re never far from a 7-Eleven.

You know what you never hear about? A bunch of Jews being hit by a tornado.

Don’t you hate it when people send you unsolicited pictures of their kids? What’s that all about? It bothers me. I hate to keep throwing away perfectly good pictures.

When I see a guy with hair on his back I immediately relegate him to the animal kingdom.

Every six minutes there’s a rape in this country, and boy, is my dick sore. I’m tellin’ ya, every day, house to house, there’s no letup. It’s a fuckin’ hassle.

I haven’t eaten an ice cream sandwich in forty-seven years.

Next time you see Bing Crosby playing a priest in a movie, picture him beating his children in real life.

I’ve never been quarantined. But the more I look around the more I think it might not be a bad idea.

Here’s some fun: Run into a bakery and ask if they can bake a cake in the shape of a penis. They’re never quite sure; they always have to have a meeting.

“Well, I don’t know. Wait just a moment.”

While they’re talking, pull out your schwanz and wave it all around.

“Good Lord, Helen! Quick! Order extra flour!”

I don’t think we should be governing ourselves. What we need is a king, and every now and then if the king’s not doing a good job, we kill him.

So far, this is the oldest I’ve been.