…from a certain point of view.
That poem, “The Walrus and the Carpenter,” that’s an indictment of organized religion. The walrus, with his girth and his good nature, he obviously represents either Buddha, or, or with his tusks, the Hindu elephant god, Lord Ganesha. That takes care of your Eastern religions. Now the carpenter, which is an obvious reference to Jesus Christ, who was raised a carpenter’s son, he represents the Western religions. Now in the poem, what do they do? What do they do? They, they dupe all these oysters into following them and then proceed to shuck and devour the helpless creatures en masse. I don’t know what that says to you, but to me it says that following these faiths based on mythological figures ensures the destruction of one’s inner being. Organized religion destroys who we are by inhibiting our actions, by inhibiting our decisions out of, out of fear of some, some intangible parent figure who, who shakes a finger at us from thousands of years ago and says, and says, “Do it… do it and I’ll fuckin’ spank you.”
They say there’s enough religion in the world to make men hate each other, but not enough to make them love
I AM A GOLDEN GOD!!! x
It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity.
Ray, when someone asks you if you’re a god, you say “YES”!
No means no!
I’m just a girl who cain’t say “No”,
I’m in a terrible fix.
Don’t feel bad about losing your virtue. I sort of knew you would. Everybody always does.
First time I got laid was in a car like this.
Hey you’re s’posed to be the fastest thing in the Valley man, but that can’t be your car. It must be your mama’s car! I’m sorta’ embarrassed to be this close to ya!
Without a real car, I’m only half a man.
P-51! Cadillac of the sky!
That watch cost more than your car. I made $970,000 last year.
But where’s the gold… the diamonds… the negotiable bearer bonds? The money!
Look, why don’t we just start digging for it?
Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work. But I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I’m swamped.
Get busy living, or get busy dying.
Dying is easy, comedy is hard
You think that’s FUNNY?! You won’t think it’s funny when I stick that pen up your NOSE!