73 replies to this topic

[Jadaki]

The other day I was spamming a thread with a few of my favorite movie monologues, being a huge Kevin Smith fan here are a few of my favorites. Lets make a thread and share cause I am bored at work and have nothing better to do!

Dante: You get me slapped with a fine, you argue with the customers and I have to patch everything up, you get us thrown out of a funeral by violating a corpse, and then to top it all off you ruin my relationship. I mean what's your encore? Do you like anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank? (pause) You know what the real tragedy about all this is? I'm not even supposed to be here today!

Randal: Oh fuck you! Fuck you, pal! Jesus, there you go: trying to pass the buck! Who closed the store to play hockey? Who closed the store to go to a wake? Who tried to win back his ex-girlfriend without even discussing how he felt with his present one? You want to blame somebody? Blame yourself! "I'm not even supposed to be here today" You sound like an asshole! Jesus, nobody twisted your arm to be here - you're here of your own volition. You like to think the weight of the world rests on your shoulder, like this place would fall apart if Dante wasn't here. Jesus, you over-compensate for having what is basically a monkey's job. You push fucking buttons! Anybody could waltz in here and do our jobs. You - you're so obsessed with making everything seem so much more epic, so much more important than it really is. Christ, you work in a convenience store, Dante - and badly I might add. I work in a shitty video store, badly as well. You know, that guy Jay's got it right man, he has no delusions about what he does. Us - we like to make ourselves seem so much more important than the people who come in here to buy a paper or God forbid, cigarettes. We look down on them as if we're so advanced. Well, if we're so fucking advanced, what are we doing working here?

Brodie: One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at the local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all. But the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with a trip to the emergency room. Then, last week, I saw him in the pet store. He was buying another cat! I said, "Walt, what the hell are you doing, you know you're just gonna get this cat stuck up your ass too, why don't you knock it off?" And he says to me, "Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?" My cousin was a weird guy.

I love you. And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. And it's not because you're unattainable. I love you. Very simple, very truly. You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person. I know you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider. But I had to say it. I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. I know this will probably queer our friendship -no pun intended- but I had to say it, because I've never felt this before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But I couldn't allow another day to go by without getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. And I'll accept that. But I know some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, that means you feel something too. All I ask is that you not dismiss that -at least for ten seconds- and try to dwell in it. Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who's ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it's there between you and me. you can't deny that. And even if we never speak again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, which -while I do appreciate it- I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.

(Alyssa opens the door and exits the car)

(sighs) Was it something I said?

Banky: What the fuck is going on with you and that girl? She's programming you, and apparently, you don't even realize it. What does it matter if I refer to her as a dyke, or if I call the Whalers a bunch of faggots in the privacy of my own office, far from the sensitive ears of the rest of the world? (begins drawing something) Bear with me here. I just want to put you through this little exercise. (finishes drawing) Okay, now see this? This is a four-way road, okay? And dead in the center, is a crisp, new, hundred dollar bill. Now at the end of each of the streets, are four people, okay? You following? Up here, we got a male-affectionate, easy-to-get-along-with, no political agenda lesbian. Okay? Now down here, we have a man-hating, angry-as-fuck, agenda-of-rage, bitter dyke. To this side, we got Santa Claus, right? And over to this side - the Easter Bunny. Which one's going to get to the hundred dollar bill first?... I'm serious. This is a serious exercise. It's like an S.A.T. question. Which one's going to get to the hundred dollar bill first - the male-friendly lesbian, the man-hating dyke, Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny?

Holden: The man-hating dyke.

Banky: Good. Why?... BECAUSE THESE OTHER THREE ARE FIGMENTS OF YOUR FUCKING IMAGINATION! She's fucking with your mind, man! She knows you've got this schoolboy crush and she's using it to sway your way of thinking! Maybe she thinks you'll get her comic picked up by Contender. Or maybe she thinks you'll change the content of our book to something more political and message oriented. Or, gee - I don't know - maybe because that's just what dykes like to do: fuck around with straight guys' heads, just so she can go back to her little rug-muncher club and have a good laugh with all her man-hating harpy cronies about how fucking stupid and easily duped men are! You don't even know this girl! Big deal, she's from Middletown and she went to North! All the girls at North were bitches and sluts anyway! And this one's got them beat by a mile because she's a bitch/slut/dyke! Oh why? Do you get my back when she bashes me? Because I know she does. And do you know why she does? Because I won't play her fucking game! What is it about this girl? You know you have no shot at getting her into bed! Why do you bother wasting time with her? Because you're Holden fucking McNeil - most persistent traveler on the road that's not the path of least resistance! Everything's gotta be a fucking challenge for you, and this little relationship with that bitch is a prime example of your fucking condition. Well I don't need a fucking magic eight ball to look into your future; you want a forecast? Here - will Holden ever fuck Alyssa. (shakes and looks at imaginary ball) What a shock - "Not fucking likely"! This relationship of yours is affecting you, our work and our friendship, and the time's going to come when I throw down the gauntlet and say it's me or her! And then what're you going to say?!... No, what would you say? Would you trash twenty years of friendship because you've got some idiotic notion that this chick would even let you sniff her panties, let alone fuck her?!... What the fuck, man?! WHAT THE FUCK MAKES THIS BITCH ALL THAT IMPORTANT?!?!

Silent Bob: Chasing Amy.
Holden: What? What did you say?
Bob: You're chasing Amy.
Jay: Why do you so shocked for, man? Fat bastard does this all the time. Think just because never says anything, it'll have some huge impact when he does open his fucking mouth...
Bob: Jesus Christ, why don't you just shut the fuck up. You're yap, yap, yapping all the time. Give me a fucking headache. (to Holden) I went through something like what you're talking about, a couple years ago, this chick named Amy.
Jay: When?
Bob: A couple years ago?
Jay: What, you live in Canada or something? Why don't I know about this?
Bob: Bitch, what you don't know about me I could just about squeeze in the Grand fucking Canyon. Did you know I always wanted to be a dancer in Vegas? (does a gesture with his hands, a reference to a move by the exotic dancers in "Showgirls") Betcha ya didn't even know that shit, did ya?
Jay: So tell your fucking story so we can get outta here and smoke this.
Bob (to Holden): So, there's me and Amy. And we're all inseparable, right? Big time in love. Then four months down the road, the idiot gear kicks in, and I ask about the ex-boyfriend. Which, as we all know, is a really dumb move. But you know how you don't wanna know, but just have to know--stupid guy bullshit. So, anyway, she starts telling me about him. How they fell in love, how they went out for a couple of yeas, how they lived together, her mother likes me better, blah blah blah blah blah. And I'm okay. Then she drops the bomb. And the bomb is this: it seems that a couple of times while they were going out, he brought some people to bed with him, "menage a troi," I believe it's called. And this just blows my mind, right? I mean, I am not used to this sorta thing; I was raised Catholic, for Gods sake.
Jay: Saint shithead.
Bob (to Jay): Do something. (to Holden) So I'm totally weirded out by this, right? So I start blasting her. I mean, I don't know how to deal with what I'm feeling, so I figure the best way is to call her 'slut,' tell her she was used. I'm out for blood, I really want to hurt this girl. I'm like, "What the fuck is your problem," right? And she's just trying to calmly tell me it was that time, it was that place, and she doesn't feel like she should apologize because she doesn't feel that she's done anything wrong. And I say, "Oh, really?" That's when I look her straight in the eye, tell her it's over. I walk.
Jay: Fucking-A.
Bob: No, idiot, it was a mistake. I wasn't disgusted with her, I was afraid. In that moment, I felt small, like I lacked experience, like I'd never be enough for her or something like that, you know what I'm saying? But what I did not get: she didn't care. She wasn't looking for that guy any more. She was looking for me, for the Bob. But by the time I figured this all out, it was too late. She had moved on. And all I had to show for it was some foolish pride which gave way to regret. She was the girl. I know that now. But (lights a cigarette) I pushed her away. (pause) So I spend every day since then chasing Amy. (pause) So to speak.

No, it will. Maybe you'll see me differently from then on - maybe you'll despise me for going along with it, once you're in the moment. Maybe I'll moan differently and then you'll resent Banky, and become suspicious of us. Or you'll alienate him because of it, and then grow to blame and hate me for the deterioration of your friendship. Or what if- I sincerely doubt it, but what if - I saw something in Banky that I never saw before, and fell in love with him and left you. I've been down roads like this before; many times. I know you feel doing this will broaden your horizons and give you experience. But I've had those experiences on my own. I can't accompany you on your's. I'm past that now. Or maybe I just love you too much. And I feel hurt and let down that you'd want to share me with anyone. Because I never wanted to share you. Regardless I can't be a part of this. Or you. Not anymore I love you. I always will. Know that. (slaps him) But I'm not your fucking whore.

Bethany: May I ask what brought you here?
Jay: Some fuck named John Hughes.
Bethany: "Sixteen Candles" John Hughes?
Jay: You know that guy, too? That fuckin' guy. He made this flick "Sixteen Candles." Not bad. There's tits in it, but no bush, but Ebert over here don't give a shit about that kind of thing 'cause he's, like, all in love with this John Hughes guy. He goes out and rents, like, every one of his movies. Fuckin' "Breakfast Club," where all these stupid kids actually show up for detention. Fuckin' "Weird Science," where this chick wants to take her gear off and get down, but oh no, she don't 'cause it's a PG movie. And then, "Pretty in Pink," which I can't even watch with this tubby bitch anymore, 'cause every time we get to the part where the redhead hooks up with her dream guy, he starts sobbin' like a little bitch with a skinned knee and shit. And there's nothing worse than watchin' a fuckin' fat man weep. Anyway all of John Hughes movies take place in Shermer, Illinois, where all the hunnies are top shelf but all the boys are whiney pussies-except Judd Nelson man, he was fuckin' harsh. So me and "Lunchbox" here figured we could live like fatrats if we were the blunt connection in Shermer. So we collected some money we were owed and boarded a bus. But you know what we found out when we got here? There is no Shermer Illinois - movies are fuckin' bullshit man!

Nun: Let me get this straight: you don't believe in God because of Alice in Wonderland?

Loki: No, 'Through the Looking Glass.' That poem, The Walrus & the Carpenter, that's an indictment of organized religion. The walrus - with his girth and his good nature - he obviously represents either Buddha, - 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. Now, I dunno what that says to you, but to me, it says that following these faiths based on mythological figures insures 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 fucking spank you!"

And cause Matt Damon rules...

Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure, fuck it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

[Ouch-8s]

bought, sold, or processed

[cfinnn]

bought, sold, or processed

Love that one.

From The Usual Suspects:

VERBAL
The D.A. gave me immunity.

KUJAN
Not from me. You get no immunity
from me you piece of sh*t.
Every criminal I have put in prison,
every cop that owes me a favor, every
creeping scumbag that works the street
for a living, will know the name of
Verbal Kint. Now you talk to me,
or that precious immunity they've seen so
fit to grant you won't be worth the paper
the contract put out on your life is
printed on.

[Ron_Mexico]

You want answers?
I think I'm entitled.
You want answers?
I want the truth.
You can't handle the truth...
-----------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
John Bender: Don't you ever talk about my friends. You don't know any of my friends. You don't look at any of my friends. And you certainly wouldn't condescend to speak to any of my friends. So you just stick to the things you know: shopping, nail polish, your father's BMW, and your poor, rich drunk mother in the Caribbean. And as far as being concerned about what's gonna happen when you and I walk down the hallways of school together, you can forget it cuz it's never gonna happen. Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fucking prom.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dude: I'll tell you what I'm blathering about... I've got information man! New shit has come to light! And shit... man, she kidnapped herself. Well sure, man. Look at it... a young trophy wife, in the parlance of our times, you know, and she, uh, uh, owes money all over town, including to known pornographers, and that's cool... that's, that's cool, I'm, I'm saying, she needs money, man. And of course they're going to say that they didn't get it, because... she wants more, man! She's got to feed the monkey, I mean uh... hasn't that ever occurred to you, man? Sir?

---------------------------------------------------

of course the Say Anything monologue

many others, I'll think on it

oh yeah

Ezekial 25-17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides of the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men...(I can do the rest off of memory, but I'm tired of typing)

[SuitedAces21]

I don’t know what to say, really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives. All comes down to today, and either, we heal as a team, or we're gonna crumble. Inch by inch, play by play. Until we're finished. We're in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me. And, we can stay here, get the **** kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell... one inch at a time. Now I can't do it for ya, I'm too old. I look around, I see these young faces and I think, I mean, I've made every wrong choice a middle-aged man can make. I, uh, I've pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who's ever loved me. And lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror. You know, when you get old, in life, things get taken from you. I mean, that's... that's... that's a part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losin' stuff. You find out life's this game of inches, so is football. Because in either game - life or football - the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half a step too late or too early and you don't quite make it. One half second too slow, too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They're in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team we fight for that inch. On this team we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when add up all those inches, that's gonna make the ****ing difference between winning and losing! Between living and dying! I'll tell you this, in any fight it's the guy whose willing to die whose gonna win that inch. And I know, if I'm gonna have any life anymore it's because I'm still willing to fight and die for that inch, because that's what living is, the six inches in front of your face. Now I can't make you do it. You've got to look at the guy next to you, look into his eyes. Now I think ya going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. Your gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team, because he knows when it comes down to it your gonna do the same for him. That's a team, gentlemen, and either, we heal, now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That's football guys, that's all it is. Now, what are you gonna do?

[runthemover]

baldwin from glengarry is pretty good

[Mercury69]

From Netwirk, screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky





I don't have to tell you things

are bad. Everybody knows things

are bad. It's a depression.

Everybody's out of work or scared

of losing their job, the dollar

buys a nickel's worth, banks are

going bust, shopkeepers keep a

gun under the counter, punks

are running wild in the streets,

and there's nobody anywhere who

seems to know what to do, and

there's no end to it. We know

the air's unfit to breathe and

our food is unfit to eat, and

we sit and watch our tee-vees

while some local newscaster

tells us today we had fifteen

homicides and sixty-three

violent crimes, as if that's

the way it's supposed to be.

We all know things are bad.

Worse than bad. They're crazy.

It's like everything's going

crazy. So we don't go out any

more. We sit in the house, and

slowly the world we live in

gets smaller, and all we ask is

please, at least leave us alone

in our own living rooms. Let me

have my toaster and my tee-vee

and my hair-dryer and my steel-

belted radials, and I won't say

anything, just leave us alone.

Well, I'm not going to leave you

alone. I want you to get mad --

I don't want you to riot. I

don't want you to protest. I

don't want you to write your

congressmen. Because I wouldn't

know what to tell you to write.

I don't know what to do about the

depression and the inflation and

the defense budget and the Russians

and crime in the street. All

I know is first you got to get

mad. You've got to say: "I'm

mad as hell and I'm not going

to take this any more. I'm a

human being, goddammit. My life

has value." So I want you to

get up now. I want you to get

out of your chairs and go to

the window. Right now. I want

you to go to the window, open

it, and stick your head out

and yell. I want you to yell:

"I'm mad as hell and I'm not

going to take this any more!"

[Jadaki]

oh yeah

Ezekial 25-17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides of the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men...(I can do the rest off of memory, but I'm tired of typing)

Here you go...

Well there's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you." I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never gave much thought what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. See now I'm thinkin', maybe it means you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9 Milimeter here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

[Jadaki]

Some other good ones...

Well, I believe in the soul. The cock. The pussy. The small of a woman's back. The hanging curve ball. High fiber. Good scotch. That the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitution Amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas eve. And I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days...Goodnight.

Now you will receive us. We do not ask for your poor or your hungry. We do not want your tired and sick. It is your corrupt we claim. It is your evil that will be sought by us. With every breath we shall hunt them down. Each day we will spill their blood ‘til it rains down from the skies. Do not kill, do not rape, to not steal. These are principles, which every man of every faith can embrace. These are not polite suggestions, these are codes of behavior and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost. There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the bounds and cross over into true corruption, into our domain. But if you do you, one day you will look behind you and you will see we three, and on that day, you will reap it. And we will send you to whatever god you wish. And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee, power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. We shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Sin LaSalle: Have you lost your mind? I mean, how is it that you can disrespect a man's ethnicity when you know we've influenced nearly every facet of white America. From our music to our style of dress, not to mention your basic imitation of our sense of cool; walk, talk, dress, mannerisms. We enrich your very existence, all the while contributing to the gross national product through our achievements in corporate America. It's these conceits that comfort me when I'm faced with the ignorant, cowardly, bitter and bigoted who have no talent, no guts. People like you who desecrate things they don't understand when the truth is you should just say "thank you, man," and go about your way. But, apparently, you're incapable of doing that, so - (he shoots the man in the chest and Dabu accidentally shoots another man) Dabu!

Dabu: My bad, dog.

Sin: And don’t tell me to be cool. I am cool! (he shoots the man again) Racial epithets. Why does it always come down to that? Makes me sad for my daughter.

[BDPoolie]

You want answers?
I think I'm entitled.
You want answers?
I want the truth.
You can't handle the truth...

Yes, this is my favorite one ever, but the whole thing, not just this "snippet" (there's a word for the "funny word" thread).

"Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to."

[Jadaki]

Tarantino delivers...

As your leader, I encourage you to -- from time to time and always in a respectful manner -- to question my logic. If you're unconvinced a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so. But allow me to convince you. And I will promise you, right here and now, no subject will be taboo... except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or my American heritage as a negative is, I collect your fucking head. (holds up a decapitated head) Just like this fucker here. Now if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, NOW'S THE FUCKING TIME!!... I didn't think so.

As you know, I'm quite keen of comic books, especially the ones about superheroes. I find the whole mythology surrounding superheroes fascinating. Take my favorite superhero; Superman, not a great comic book, not particularly well-drawn, but the mythology; the mythology is not only great, it's unique.

Now, the staple of the superhero mythology is; there is the superhero and there is the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spiderman is actually Peter Parker; when that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spiderman and it is in that characteristic, Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman, Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent, his outfit with the big red “S”. That's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears; the glasses, the business suit, that's the costume; that’s the costume that Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us, and what are the characteristics of Clark Kent; he’s weak, he’s unsure of himself, he’s a coward. Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole human race, sorta like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plympton.

[SBriand]

How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outack Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I just say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?

[Jadaki]

And Shawshank Redemption, brilliant film.

Rehabilitated? Well, now, let me see. You know, I don't have any idea what that means... I know what you think it means, sonny. To me, it's just a made-up word. A politician's word. So young fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?... There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here. Because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then. A young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I wanna talk to him. I wanna try to talk some sense to him. Tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man's all that's left. I gotta live with that. Rehabilitated? That's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because, to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.

Sometimes it makes me sad though, Andy being gone. I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the the place you live in is that much more drab and empty now they are gone. I guess I just miss my friend.

Red: Forty years I've been asking permission to piss. I can't squeeze a drop without say-so. There's a harsh truth to face: no way I'm gonna make it on the outside. All I do anymore is think of ways to break my parole so maybe they'd send me back. Terrible thing, to live in fear. Brooks Hatlen knew it. Knew it all too well. All I want is to be back where things make sense. Where I won't have to be afraid all the time. Only one thing stops me - a promise I made to Andy.

Andy (voice-over): Dear Red, If you're reading this, you've gotten out. And if you've come this far, maybe you're willing to come a little further. You remember the name of the town, don't you? I could use a good man to help me get my project on wheels. I'll keep an eye out for you and the chessboard ready. Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies. I will be hoping that this letter finds you, and finds you well. Your friend, Andy.

Red: Get busy living or get busy dying. That's goddamn right. For the second time in my life, I'm guilty of committing a crime. Parole violation. Course, I doubt they're going to throw up any road blocks for that. Not for an old crook like me. I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

[Turbo Dog]

Tony Montana:

You're all assholes. You know why? 'Cause none of you got the guts to be what you want to be.

You need people like me so you can point your fingers and say 'hey there's the bad guy!' So what does that make you? Good guys? Don't kid yourselves. You're no better'n me. You just know how to hide -- and how to lie. Me I don't have that problem. I always tell the truth -- even when I lie.

So say good night to the bad guy... You're never gonna see a bad guy like me again.

Say goodnight to the bad guy

[solderz]

Jack Nicholson in Carnal Knowledge is my all time favorite. Cracks me up everytime.


"Affection is upside down contempt." lol


Jack Nicholson in Carnal Knowledge

[Dan The Man]

"So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, 'Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.' And he says, 'Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.' So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."

[Dan The Man]

"Gozer the Traveler. He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!"

[BDPoolie]

Below I copy and pasted another great scene:

In the most memorable classic scene in a roadside diner on his way home, he is again aggravated and exasperated by meaningless rules. A live-by-the-rules waitress (Lorna Thayer) stubbornly refuses to serve him a plain omelette (with tomatoes instead of potatoes), a cup of coffee and a side order of wheat toast, because she dryly explains: "No substitutions":

Dupea: I'd like a plain omelette, no potatoes, tomatoes instead, a cup of coffee, and wheat toast.
Waitress: (She points to the menu) No substitutions.
Dupea: What do you mean? You don't have any tomatoes?
Waitress: Only what's on the menu. You can have a number two - a plain omelette. It comes with cottage fries and rolls.
Dupea: Yeah, I know what it comes with. But it's not what I want.
Waitress: Well, I'll come back when you make up your mind.
Dupea: Wait a minute. I have made up my mind. I'd like a plain omelette, no potatoes on the plate, a cup of coffee, and a side order of wheat toast.
Waitress: I'm sorry, we don't have any side orders of toast...an English muffin or a coffee roll.
Dupea: What do you mean you don't make side orders of toast? You make sandwiches, don't you?
Waitress: Would you like to talk to the manager?
Dupea: ...You've got bread and a toaster of some kind?
Waitress: I don't make the rules.
Dupea: OK, I'll make it as easy for you as I can. I'd like an omelette, plain, and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast, no mayonnaise, no butter, no lettuce. And a cup of coffee.
Waitress: A number two, chicken sal san, hold the butter, the lettuce and the mayonnaise. And a cup of coffee. Anything else?
Dupea: Yeah. Now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, give me a check for the chicken salad sandwich, and you haven't broken any rules.
Waitress (spitefully): You want me to hold the chicken, huh?
Dupea: I want you to hold it between your knees.
Waitress (turning and telling him to look at the sign that says, "No Substitutions") Do you see that sign, sir? Yes, you'll all have to leave. I'm not taking any more of your smartness and sarcasm.
Dupea: You see this sign? (He sweeps all the water glasses and menus off the table.)

[cfinnn]

And Shawshank Redemption, brilliant film.

Love Shawshank.

[SuitedAces21]

I think in all fairness, I should explain to you exactly what it is that I do. For instance tomorrow morning ill get up nice and early, take a walk down over to the bank and... walk in and see and uh... if you don't have my money for me, I'll... crack your ****in' head wide-open in front of everybody in the bank. And just about the time that I'm comin' out of jail, hopefully, you'll be coming out of your coma. And guess what? I'll split your ****in' head open again. 'Cause I'm ****in' stupid. I don't give a **** about jail. That's my business. That's what I do.