...and there aint a goddamn thing anybody can do about it, you know why? Because we've got the bombs! That's why, yeah! Two words: NUCLEAR FUCKIN' WEAPONS! OK?!
I would never do crack. I would never do a drug named after a part of my own ass, okay?
I love to smoke. I smoke seven thousand packs a day!
NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil! We love you, you giant fucking "Q"!
I'm high as a kite and my teeth are green, merry fucking Christmas!
There we were in the middle of a sexual revolution wearing clothes that guaranteed we wouldn't get laid.
I'm gonna get one of those tracheotomies, so I can smoke two cigarettes at the same time! I'm gonna get nine tracheotomies, all around my neck, I'll be Tracheotomy Man! He can smoke a pack at a time, he's Tracheotomy Man!
"I'm just not happy, I'm just not happy. I'm just not happy because my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would." Hey, join the fucking club! I thought I was going to be the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Sox. Life sucks, get a fucking helmet! Alright?
Ted Kennedy, a good senator but a bad date you know what I mean? "What'd I forget? Goddamit the fuckin' girl! Jesus Christ where are my pants?"
We didn't have rehab back in the Seventies. Back in the Seventies, rehab meant you stopped doing coke, but you kept smoking pot and drinking for a couple more weeks.
Happiness comes in small doses folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm, that's it okay? You cum, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep you get up in the morning and go to fucking work okay? That is it, end of fucking list!
God.. crack. Only in America would a guy invent crack. Only in America would there be a guy that cocaine wasn't good enough for. You know? One guy walking around New York City back in 1985 going, "You know, that cocaine's pretty good, but I want something that makes my heart explode as soon as I smoke it, ok? I want to take one suck off that crack pipe and go *snort* *splat* Now I'm happy! I'm dead, the ultimate high!"
Not eating meat is a decision, eating meat is an instinct.
The people you would have overdose on drugs never would. Like Mötley Crüe would never fucking overdose, man, never. You could put them in a room with two tons of crack, they'd come out half an hour later, goin "ROCK ON MAN!"
Somebody accidentally nudges their poodle off a 75th floor ledge. Boink. And he's headed for the ground at a hundred and seventy five thousand miles per hour "BARROOOOOOOO!!". And "KERCHUNK" he's embedded on your head. You're dead on contact. The headline on the post the next day reads "Man Killed By Best Friend." People cut the article out and laugh about it at the office. You are forever remembered as the Poodleman! "I knew the Poodleman and he hated fucking poodles."
I was reading an interview with Keith Richards in a magazine and in the interview Keith Richards intimated that kids should not do drugs. Keith Richards! Says that kids should not do drugs! Keith, we can't do any more drugs because you already fucking did them all, alright? There's none left! We have to wait 'til you die and smoke your ashes! Jesus Christ! Talk about the pot and the fuckin' kettle.
I'm the Lord of the Dance! Fuck Michael Flatley, it's me! ...Who has the balls to call themselves the lord of anything, huh? C'mon, last time somebody called themself lord on this planet, they got CRUCIFIED, Michael! And we know where the hammer and the nails are! We could put you up in a couple of minutes!
(talking about The Lord Of The Dance) Have you seen that show? If you have, GET OUT! Get the hell out of my show right now!
Did I miss a fucking meeting with the coffee? You can get every other flavor except COFFEE FLAVORED COFFEE! They got mochaccino, they've got chococcino, frapaccino, capaccino, rapaccino, Al Pacino, WHAT THE FUCK! www.whattheFUCK.com!!
Coffee doesn't need a menu, it needs a cup! That's all it needs! Maybe a saucer underneath the cup- that's it!
When I was a kid, Dunkin' Donuts had two things: coffee and donuts, and that was it! You took the donut, dunked it in the coffee, thus the fucking title of the place!
You're 18 years old, you're in a 7-11, you don't know shit about shit and PULL UP YOUR PANTS!
Cranberry Ale! Cranberry NUT CRUNCH FUCKING ALE! Cranberries and beer do not go together! One's for bladder infections, one's for getting DRUNK!
Peter Falk and Denis Leary today walked into a Starbucks and shot 27 people, without any announcement whatsoever.
Making a key decision now for our kids, it's religion decision time, you know...and I'm not bringing em up Catholic. I've made that decision. Boy, because I was raised Catholic, and NOO WAY! Uh-uh! Nope! Know what? I can't bring up my kids in a church whose authority system is entirely based on the size of fucking hats, okay? That's apparently how the Catholic church is run. The bigger the hat, the more important the guy, right? Priests have no hats, cardinals have those little red beanies, the pope has a collection of big hats...God must have a huge fucking sombrero up there in heaven! "Look at me, I'm GOD! Look at the size of my hat, who else would I be?" I don't know, lead singer of Los Lobos?
I am now the leader of the Lapsed Catholic Church, and here are the rules, my friends. Thou shalt not? Fuck that, thou fucking shall! As long as you don't have sex with kids or kill anybody you can do whatever the FUCK you want in my church! But if you so much as look at an altar boy the wrong way, you don't get transferred to some distant parish up in Nova Scotia, no fucking way, pal! You stand naked in the middle of Times Square wearing a big neon sign that says "I carry a torch for kids who carry candles," you fucking asshole. And there's no more magic, no more burning bushes or [the virgin Mary appearing on] blueberry muffins. You screw up this time, the virgin mother shows up in your driveway like Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, she pistol whips ya, and then she sets your dick on fire, OK? Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife? Bullshit! You covet his wife, his house, his car, and his pool. You know why? Because he's coveting every INCH of your shit, pal!
Yeah, what are you doing, father? Keep your hands to yourself, man! Wanna do something with your hands? Stick them up the pope's ass! It's one of the new fucking rules, OK?
'Cause in my church, when it comes to healing, you know how Benny Hinn lays his hands on a supposedly blind person, then when he takes his hands off, the guy can see? Here's how we do it in my church. You're a pothead? Guess what...you're STILL a fucking pothead!
And when it comes time to confess your sins in the Lapsed Catholic Church, guess who you confess your sins to? That's right, Father Leary. You walk in and say, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." You know what I say? "That's fucking great! What did you do?" "I, um, thought impure thoughts many times this week- "Fuckin' excellent! What else?" "Uh, I jerked off like five times-" "That's FUCKING great! You know what your penance is? Run across the street to that store, steal two cases of beer and a pizza, and bring it back here,' OK? 'Cause we're gonna sit around the rectory and smoke and eat pizza and drink beer and watch TV, and if we see the pope on TV, we're gonna give him the finger and make fun of his hats, OK?"
That's a great story that people like to latch onto...Very quickly we got New York club owners saying, 'You guys are too alike,' while Bill and I were saying, 'What are they fucking talking about?' It's the same approach to the subject maybe, but it's not the same act...But as I've said many times, a fable is sometimes better than the truth.