Counterpoint: That's not a backbone; this is a backbone
by Dennis Leary
Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps. End of list. You've got to grow up in American society to turn into a prick who wants to lock up all the arabs.
We're not going to fix this problem by rounding up Americans—what are you, stupid? We've got to take this war to them. You know what I think we should do? I think we should take Iraq and Iran and combine them into one country and call it Irate. All the pissed off people live in one place and get it over with. Not just the arabs, but that snivelling little aide of Palmer's, too. He seems pretty pissed, let's see how he handles that. I give him about five hours before they tear him to shreds.
Hell, I'd like to take a golf club to that guy myself. And I just got a new set of steel shafts (warning: Rated R, not work safe), too.
You can't just round up Americans because of the color of their skin. If you can do that, then you can declare anyone an enemy and round them up, too. Next thing you know, I'll be the enemy because I like to think. I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech and freedom of choice. I'm the kind of guy that could sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecue ribs or the side order of gravy fries? I want high cholesterol. I would eat bacon and butter and buckets of cheese. Okay? I want to smoke Cuban cigars the size of Cincinnati in the nonsmoking section. I want to run through the streets naked with green Jell-O all over my body reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I might suddenly feel the need to. Okay, pal?
Yes, it's true, these Islamist f*cks are like a cancer on our society. But I can remember a time in this country when men were proud to get cancer, for f*ck's sake! It was a sign of manhood! John Wayne had cancer twice. Second time, they took out one of his lungs. He said, "Take 'em both! I don't f*ckin' need 'em! I'll grow gills and breathe like a freaking fish!"
Only a guy from LA would think rounding up arabs is a good way to combat terrorism—think it shows that you have a spine. Who got attacked on 9/11? That's right, New York. But are New Yorkers afraid of Arabs? Hell no, we buy our freaking newspapers from them every morning and then they make us sick by driving us through overcrowded streets at 90 miles an hour. They're too busy taking our money and trying to kill us one at a time to all be plotting against the rest of us. New Yorkers aren't scared. Sh*t, this is the most exciting place in the world to live. Oh yeah! There are so many ways to die in New York City! Race riots, drive by shootings, subway crashes, construction cranes collapsing on the sidewalks, manhole covers blowing up and asbestos shooting into the sky.
New York teaches you to live life the way it should be lived. Moment to moment. Yes, because every moment in New York could be your last. Oh yeah. You could be walking down the street tomorrow, feeling good about yourself, drink free, drug free, looking forward to the future and somebody accidentally nudges their poodle off of a 75th floor ledge. And he's headed for the ground at a hundred-and-seventy-five thousand miles per hour. And curchunk he's imbedded in your head! You're dead on contact. The headline in the Post the next day reads, Man killed by best friend.
You think you have a backbone? Try living here, asshole.
If President Palmer had less of a backbone, he'd need a freakin' kickstand
by Dennis Miller