Well. I think it is certainly apparent by now that one of the things I enjoy in life is excess. I like things that are excessive. I like excessive behavior. Excessive language. Excessive violence. It’s fun. It’s interesting. It’s exciting. I like it when nature is excessive. That’s why I like natural disasters. All these natural disasters that have been going on. I fucking love them. I can’t get enough of them. Oh.
When nature’s going crazy, throwing things around, scaring people and destroying property, I’m a happy fucking guy. I’m a happy fucking guy. I look at it this way, for centuries now man has done everything he can to destroy, defile and interfere with nature. Clear-cutting forests, strip-mining mountains, poisoning the atmosphere, overfishing the oceans, polluting the rivers and lakes. Destroying wetlands and aquifers. So when nature strikes back and smacks man in the head and kicks him in the nuts. I enjoy that.
I have absolutely no sympathy for human beings whatsoever. None. And no matter what kind of problem humans are facing whether it’s natural or man-made. I always hope it gets worse. Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you have a part of you, a part of you that secretly hopes everything gets worse? When you see a big fire on TV, don’t you hope it spreads? Don’t you hope it gets completely out of control and burns down six counties? You don’t root for a fireman, do you? I mean I don’t want him to get hurt or nothin’ but I don’t want him putting out my fire. That’s my fire. That’s nature showing off and having fun. I like fires.
You know something else I like? Those spring floods in the Midwest. Aren’t they great? Like clockwork. Spring floods in the Midwest. But I’m starting to notice, I’m starting to catch on that every year it’s the same story. Another flood in the same place with the same people on the same river. SAME FUCKING PEOPLE! And these people do not move. They will not be fucking move.
They repaint, put down new carpeting and wallpaper and they move right back into the same fucking house on the flood plain next to the river and then they wonder why grandma’s floating downstream with a parakeet on her head. Fourth time. Again. Fourth fucking time. There’s no learning curve with these people. It’s very hard to feel sorry for them. Every year the same people. Same rowboats. Out there paddling around, rescuing a chicken. What the fuck kind of a life is that? “Well. Our kids love it here.” Oh, really. What do they get, gills? And while they’re showing all that action on the screen, the announcer is saying to me, “It’s been raining steadily for three months now. The ground can’t hold any more water.
The river is cresting higher than it has in two centuries. The levies have washed away” and I just hope it keeps raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and raining, and it rains steadily for five years. And then after that. For ten years it’s cloudy with occasional showers. And the river never returns to its natural banks. It becomes a completely new river. And the borders of three states have to be changed. And all the maps and atlases have to be redrawn and reprinted. And no one’s couch ever completely dries out. For years and years, every time they sit down, there’s always a little squish. “Dan. Linda. Come on in, you guys. Have a seat. Squish, squish.” I like that.
I’m an interesting guy. I always hope that no matter how small the original problem is it’s going to grow into bigger and bigger proportions that get completely out of control. And I’ll give you a concrete example. Let’s say a water main breaks in downtown Los Angeles and it floods an electrical substation knocking out all the traffic lights and tying up the entire city and emergency vehicles can’t get through. And at the same time, one of those month-long global warming heat waves comes along but there’s no air conditioning. There’s no water for sanitation. So cholera, smallpox and dysentery break out and thousands of people start dying in the streets. But before they die, parasites eat their brains. And they go completely fucking crazy, and they storm the hospital. But the hospital can’t handle all the casualties. So these people rape all the nurses and set the hospital on fire.
And the flames drive them even crazier so they start stabbing social workers and garbage men. And a big wind comes along and the entire city goes up in flames and the people who are still healthy they get mad at the sick people and they start crucifying them. Nailing them to crosses. Trying on their underwear, shit like that. Then everybody smokes crack and PCP and they march on city hall where they burn the mayor at the stake, strangle his wife and take turns sodomizing the statue of Larry Flynt. And at this point, at this point, it looks like pretty soon things are going to start to get out of control. So everybody panics and tries to leave the city at the same time. And they trample each other to death in the streets by the thousands and wild dogs eat their corpses.
And the wild dogs chase the rest of the people down the highway. And one by one the dogs pick off the old fucks and the slow people because they’re in the fast lane where they don’t belong. Get the fuck out of the fast lane if you’re an old fuck, if you’re a slow fuck, get over on the right, get over on the right. And then, the lucky ones, the lucky people who manage to make it all the way outside of town they discover when they get there, the big sparks from the city have lit the suburbs on fire and the suburbs burn uncontrollably. And thousands of identical homes have identical fires with identical smoke killing all the identical soccer moms and their identical kids named Jason and Jennifer.
And now. Now the fire spreads to the farmlands and the farmlands burn intensely of 425 degrees creating millions of baked potatoes. And as the farmlands burn. As the farmlands burn. Thousands of barns and farmhouses begin to explode from all hidden methamphetamine labs. And the meth chemicals run downhill into the rivers and streams where wild animals drink the water and get completely geeked on speed. So bears and wolves amped up on crank start roaming the countryside looking for people to eat even though they’re not really hungry. Then the fire spreads to the forest. And the forest burns furiously. And hundreds of elves and trolls and fairies come running out of the woods screaming, “Bambi is dead. Bambi is dead!” And he is. He is. Finally that fucking little cunt.
Bambi is dead. Dead. Now, hundreds of regional fires come together into one huge interstate inferno. And all 12 of the western United States are burning out of control except Utah where the Mormons don’t allow fires. And the fires spread across the Great Plains toasting the wheat, cooking the cattle and producing hamburgers actually. Then it leaps to Mississippi and races through the South blowing up stills and interrupting lynching’s and killing millions of inbred people.
And then it turns northeast and it heads for Washington, D.C. Where George Bush can’t decide if it’s an emergency or not. He can’t decide this. He doesn’t know. Wow. Oh it’s hard work. You know. He can’t decide because Dick Cheney is in prison. So instead he takes a nap. He takes a nap. He puts his empty, fucking brainless head down on the little pillow his mother gave him at Christmas time and he takes a fucking nap!
So the fire moves to Philadelphia but it’s a weekend and Philadelphia’s closed on the weekends. So the fire moves to New York City and the people of New York tell the fire to go fuck itself. “Go fuck yourself.” And it does. And it does. So instead it burns down Long Island and Connecticut killing all the rich white assholes and completely destroying their evil. Faggoty golf courses. And while all this is going on, Canada burns to the ground but nobody notices. And now the entire North American continent is on fire producing a huge thermal updraft and creating an incendiary cyclonic macro system that forms a hemispheric mega-storm breaking down the molecular structure of the atmosphere and actually changing the laws of nature. Fire and water combine.
Burning clouds of flaming rainfall upward. Gamma rays and solar winds ignite the ionosphere creating huge clouds of ionized plasma. Bolts of lightning 20 million miles long begin shooting out of the North Pole. And the sky fills up with green shit. And then suddenly the entire fabric of space-time splits in two. A huge crack in the universe opens and all the dead people from the past begin falling through. Babe Ruth. Groucho Marx. Davy Crockett, Tiny Tim, Porky Pig, Hitler, Janis Joplin, Alan Ludden my Uncle Dave, your Uncle Dave. Everybody’s Uncle Dave. An endless stream of dead Uncle Dave’s falling through the crack. And all the dead Uncle Dave’s gather around a heavenly kitchen table. They light up cigarettes and they begin to talk.
They talk about how they never got a break. How their parents didn’t love them. And their children were ungrateful. They talk about how the government screwed them out of money and they just missed out on a big job. They say the Jews own everything, and the blacks get special treatment. And all the hatred and bitterness drips out of these people and forms a big pool of liquid hate. And the pool of liquid hate begins to spin. Round and round it spins, faster and faster. And the faster it spins, the bigger it gets. Faster and faster. Bigger and bigger. Until the whirling pool of hate is bigger than the entire universe.
And then suddenly it explodes into trillions of tiny stars. And every star has a trillion planets and every planet has a trillion Uncle Dave’s. And all the Uncle Dave’s have good jobs, perfect eyesight and shoes that fit. They have great sex lives and free health care. They understand the Internet. Their kids think they’re cool and they all love their neighbors. And every week without fail, Uncle Dave wins the lottery. Forever and ever until the end of time, every single Uncle Dave has a winning ticket. And Uncle Dave is finally happy. Now, do you see why I like it when nature gets even with humans?
