& Neighbor’s wife: ..... I hate people who say bad things about Michael Jackson.
Frank: I fucking hate haters. I hate my neighbors. The constant cacophony of stupidity that pours from their apartment is absolutely soul-crushing. It doesn’t matter how polite I ask them to practice some common courtesy. They’re incapable of comprehending that their actions affect other people. They have a complete lack of consideration for anyone else and an overly developed sense of entitlement. They have no decency, no concern, no shame.
& Neighbor: Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?
Frank: A lot.
& Neighbor: Take it easy, bro.
Frank: I’m not your bro.
& Michael Dunne: “We have a press that just gives him a free pass because he’s black so he doesn’t have to work hard like the rest of us who play by the rules. That is the world we live in, ladies and gentlemen.”
& Listener-supported radio: “In fact, 40% of adult Americans cannot read above a fourth grade level. When high schoolers were asked what living American they would want to be, the majority of girls answered Kim Kardashian and the majority of boys answered any male cast member on “The Jersey Shore.”
& Alison: Um, I’m not sure I remembered to tell you, but... Brad and I are getting married.
Frank: Well, tell Brad when he’s down there to smell my balls, all right?
Alison: ... Frank says hi.
Brad: Tell him hi back.
& Coworker: So what about you Frank? Did you see that freak on “American Superstars” last night?
Frank: What?
Coworker: Last night, that freak on “American Superstarz.”
Frank: No... I mean yes, I saw that accidentally. I don’t watch “American Superstarz.”
Coworker: You don’t watch it, but you saw him. What are you too good for the show?
Frank: I’m too good for a karaoke contest that makes stars out of people with no talent.
Coworker: You can’t say that, dude. Some of those kids have real talent.
Frank: No, they don’t. They have good pitch. They’re relatively clean. They’re nonthreatening to little girls and old ladies. They have the ability to stand in line with a stadium full of other desperate and confused people. But I assure you, they are talent-free.
& Frank: I wish I was a super-genius inventor and could come up with a way to make a telephone into an explosive device that was triggered by the American Superstarz voting number. The battery could explode and leave a mark on the face, so I could know who to avoid talking to before they even talked. And I could look and say, “Hm, no you’re gonna be saying anything that’s going to add any value to my life.”
Coworker: Yeah, but it’s funny. I mean you gotta admit that. Steven Clark, that’s funny shit Frank...
Frank: It’s not nice to laugh at someone who’s not all there. It’s the same type of freak-show distraction that comes along every time a mighty empire starts collapsing. “American Superstarz” is the new colosseum and I won’t participate in watching a show where the weak are torn apart every week for our entertainment.
& Frank: I’m done, really. Everything is so “cool” now. I just want it all to stop. I mean, nobody talks about anything anymore. They just regurgitate everything they see on TV, or hear on the radio or watch on the web. When was the last time you had a real conversation with someone without somebody texting or looking at a screen or a monitor over your head? You know, a conversation about something that wasn’t celebrities, gossip, sports, or pop politics. You know, something important, something personal.
& Frank: I am offended. Not because I got a problem with bitter, predictible, whining millionaire disc jockeys complaining about celebrities or how tough their life is, while I live in an apartment with paper-thin walls next to a couple of Neanderthals who, instead of a baby, decided to give birth to some kind of nocturnal civil defense air raid siren that goes off every fucking night like it’s Pearl Harbor. I’m not offended that they act like it’s my responsibility to protect their rights to pick on the weak like pack animals, or that we’re supposed to support their freedom of speech when they don’t give a fuck about yours or mine.
Coworker: So, you’re against free speech now? That’s in the Bill of Rights, man.
Frank: I would defend their freedom of speech if I thought it was in jeopardy. I would defend their freedom of speech to tell uninspired, bigoted, blowjob, gay-bashing, racist and rape jokes all under the guise of being edgy, but that’s not the edge. That’s what sells. They couldn’t possibly pander any harder or be more commercially mainstream, because this is the “Oh no, you didn’t say that!” generation, where a shocking comment has more weight than the truth. No one has any shame anymore, and we’re supposed to celebrate it. I saw a woman throw a used tampon at another woman last night on network television, a network that bills itself as “Today’s Woman’s Channel”. Kids beat each other blind and post it on Youtube. I mean, do you remember when eating rats and maggots on Survivor was shocking? It all seems so quaint now. I’m sure the girls from “2 Girls 1 Cup” are gonna have their own dating show on VH-1 any day now. I mean, why have a civilization anymore if we no longer are interested in being civilized?
& Roxy: Did you just kill Chloe?.. Awesome.
Roxy: Who you’re killing next? Do you take requests? ’Cause I was thinking maybe some Kardashians, my gym coach. People who give high fives. Really, any jock. Twihards. People who talk about punk rock. Who else really rips my cock off?
Frank: Get off the bed!
Roxy: Oh, Mormons and other religious assholes who won’t let gay people be married. And adult women who call their tits the girls.
& Roxy: You really had the chance to do something awesome here. But you’re blowing it, Frank. Now you’re just gonna be remembered as some creepy old stalker dude who was in love with some young twat on a television show. Just a pervy old dude that killed that girl and then himself when he couldn’t have her. Wah.
Frank: I didn’t kill her because I couldn’t have her. I killed her because she wasn’t nice.
& Roxy: And that was a fantastic start, Frank. Your instincts were right on. She was a class-A cunt. But with so many horrible people in the world who should be taking the big dirt nap, why quit now? You kill yourself, Frank, and you’re killing the wrong person, which would be a shame when there are so many other Chloes out there who need to die.
Frank: Like who?
Roxy: Nascar fans, country fans, people who dress their babies in band t-shirts.
Frank: No, no, no, people who deserve to die.
Roxy: All those people do deserve to die.
& Frank: I’m not American apparel. I’m not the creep that came up with those Bratz dolls.
Roxy: All men like young girls.
Frank: That’s what society’s trying to sell you. But, you know, maybe it’s time for adult males to aim a little bit higher than raping kids. I mean, fuck R. Kelly. Fuck Vladimir Nabokov. And fuck Mary Kay LeTourneau while we’re at it. Fuck Woody Allen and his whole “the heart wants what it wants” bullshit. Apparently that erudite genius’ heart wants the same thing that every run-of-the-mill pedophile wants... a young, hairless Asian. Nobody cares that they damage other people.
& Frank: Thanks for not talking during the feature. Thanks for turning off your cell phone.
Moviegoer: You’re welcome.
& Frank: You did a good job.
Roxy: I have a good coach. That and I was pretending the targets were the cast of Glee.
Frank: What’s wrong with “Glee”? It stereotypes and homogenizes homosexuals.
Roxy: Plus it ruined “Rocky Horror” forever.
Frank: That’s true.
& Roxy: I am so depressed. I mean, I can’t believe there’s nothing on about us.
Frank: That’s one of the problems of your generation. You can’t enjoy anything unless it was recorded. You were there. You lived it. Isn’t that enough of an experience? I mean, next time you want to remember something, instead of taking out your cell phone, why don’t you take a picture of it with your brain camera?.. I mean, when I was your age, nobody tweeted, yet we managed to have experiences. You know, a phone was attached to a wall back at the house. It didn’t have a camera.
Roxy: What are you, Jeff Foxworthy? ’And a cell phone was the phone you called your pappy on to get you out of jail. A-do-do-do-do-do.’
& Frank: You know what I hate?.. I hate guys that say ’actually’ all the time. Like, “you actually got a gun to your head.”
Roxy: You know what else I hate? People who misuse the term ’literally.’
Frank: Literal people, I guess... I hate guys that buy $100,000 cars and then drive around 10 Miles slower than the speed limit.
Roxy: I hate guys who wear lady pants.
& Roxy: How’d that feel?
Frank: It felt good. It’s a good night to die.
& Roxy: Musically I’m all about Alice Cooper.
Frank: I like Alice Cooper.
Roxy: You don’t like Alice Cooper, Frank. That’s like a Muslim saying that he likes Mohammed. You accept Alice Cooper. You accept that Alice came down and gave us rock that upset authority figures and made the outcasts not feel so all alone. You accept that there would be no Goth movement without Alice. No Trent Reznor, Marilyn Manson, not even shitty soft cock rockers like Poison or Bon Jovi. Because not only did he introduce macabre theatrics into rock, he also invented the power ballad with a little song called “Only Women Bleed.”
Frank: Okay, I get it. I promise I won’t kill Alice Cooper.
Roxy: Hey, don’t even joke about it, Frank. Do you realize that he was the first rock star to wear makeup? And he was wearing dresses long before Bowie stole his first pair of culottes from his mother’s clothesline. And he was screaming about death and frustration way before punks. So I guess you have to accept that Alice Cooper invented that, too.
& Frank: Are you A.D.D. ’Juno’
Roxy: Yes. I have A.D.D. And don’t you ever call me fucking ’Juno’ again.
Frank: Sorry.
Roxy: That’s who we should kill next.
Frank: A fictitious character?
Roxy: No. Diablo Cody. Fuck her for writing that movie, she’s the only stripper who suffers from too much self esteem.
Frank: I don’t want to kill people just because you don’t like their movies.
Roxy: Why not? She’s encouraging teen pregnancy. Her storylines and characters are for shit. And she’s just so excited to throw any funny line she’s heard into the scene that she makes girls my age look like cutesy assholes from a dirty Dr. Seuss book.
& Frank: I only want to kill people who deserve to die.
Roxy: You know who we should kill?
Frank: Frank: Who?
Roxy: People who use rockstar as an adjective. As in rockstar parking.
Frank: Frank: People who pound energy drinks all day.
Roxy: People who use the term ’edgy,’ ’in your face,’ or ’extreme.’
Frank: Oh, no, no, wait. That would rule out a lot of the chalupas that love.
Roxy: Anyone who wears crystals or calls themselves spiritual.
Frank: Or people who say namaste.
Roxy: What’s that?
Frank: It’s an Indian greeting the hippies stole.
Roxy: Oh, hippies. Anyone who buys an anarchy t-shirt.
Frank: Or people who use thee term ’the man’ in a positive or negative light. As in, “the man is always sticking it to us” or “you’re the man.”
Roxy: Anyone who’s ever been pumped.
Frank: Or stoked.
Roxy: Anyone who gives and receives physical high fives.
Frank: Agreed.
& Roxy: Wow. Look at all these people.
Frank: Yeah. I wish I had an AK-47.
& Roxy: So are we gonna kill him?
Frank: No... I want him to suffer.
& Roxy: You know what you need, Frank?
Frank: A straw?
Roxy: You need a vacation.
& Frank: Hey, doc. It’s Frank Murdock. You left a message?
Doc: Yes, I did, Frank. Uh, I have some bad news. Um, you don’t have a brain tumor.
& Gun dealer: Old school. Walther p38. German, 9mm. Made during the second world war. I mean, who knows how to kill people better than the Germans, right? You know it’s got to be good. You’re not a Jew, Frank, are you? I’m just asking ’cause, you know, I brought up a German gun.
& Gun dealer: Is that a honey or what? AK-47. When you absolutely, positively have to waste every single motherfucker in the room.
& Frank: My name is Frank. That’s not important. The important question is: who are you? America has become a cruel and vicious place. We reward the shallowest, the dumbest, the meanest and the loudest. We no longer have any common sense of decency. No sense of shame. There is no right and wrong. The worst qualities in people are looked up to and celebrated. Lying and spreading fear is fine as long as you make money doing it. We’ve become a nation of slogan-saying, bile-spewing hatemongers. We’ve lost our kindness. We’ve lost our soul. What have we become? We take the weakest in our society, we hold them up to be ridiculed, laughed at for our sport and entertainment. Laughed at to the point, where they would literally rather kill themselves than live with us anymore.
--
+ quotes on the Imdb.
__ Wow. Simply, there are no words. Frank (& Roxy, of course) said them all.
Frank: I fucking hate haters. I hate my neighbors. The constant cacophony of stupidity that pours from their apartment is absolutely soul-crushing. It doesn’t matter how polite I ask them to practice some common courtesy. They’re incapable of comprehending that their actions affect other people. They have a complete lack of consideration for anyone else and an overly developed sense of entitlement. They have no decency, no concern, no shame.
& Neighbor: Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?
Frank: A lot.
& Neighbor: Take it easy, bro.
Frank: I’m not your bro.
& Michael Dunne: “We have a press that just gives him a free pass because he’s black so he doesn’t have to work hard like the rest of us who play by the rules. That is the world we live in, ladies and gentlemen.”
& Listener-supported radio: “In fact, 40% of adult Americans cannot read above a fourth grade level. When high schoolers were asked what living American they would want to be, the majority of girls answered Kim Kardashian and the majority of boys answered any male cast member on “The Jersey Shore.”
& Alison: Um, I’m not sure I remembered to tell you, but... Brad and I are getting married.
Frank: Well, tell Brad when he’s down there to smell my balls, all right?
Alison: ... Frank says hi.
Brad: Tell him hi back.
& Coworker: So what about you Frank? Did you see that freak on “American Superstars” last night?
Frank: What?
Coworker: Last night, that freak on “American Superstarz.”
Frank: No... I mean yes, I saw that accidentally. I don’t watch “American Superstarz.”
Coworker: You don’t watch it, but you saw him. What are you too good for the show?
Frank: I’m too good for a karaoke contest that makes stars out of people with no talent.
Coworker: You can’t say that, dude. Some of those kids have real talent.
Frank: No, they don’t. They have good pitch. They’re relatively clean. They’re nonthreatening to little girls and old ladies. They have the ability to stand in line with a stadium full of other desperate and confused people. But I assure you, they are talent-free.
& Frank: I wish I was a super-genius inventor and could come up with a way to make a telephone into an explosive device that was triggered by the American Superstarz voting number. The battery could explode and leave a mark on the face, so I could know who to avoid talking to before they even talked. And I could look and say, “Hm, no you’re gonna be saying anything that’s going to add any value to my life.”
Coworker: Yeah, but it’s funny. I mean you gotta admit that. Steven Clark, that’s funny shit Frank...
Frank: It’s not nice to laugh at someone who’s not all there. It’s the same type of freak-show distraction that comes along every time a mighty empire starts collapsing. “American Superstarz” is the new colosseum and I won’t participate in watching a show where the weak are torn apart every week for our entertainment.
& Frank: I’m done, really. Everything is so “cool” now. I just want it all to stop. I mean, nobody talks about anything anymore. They just regurgitate everything they see on TV, or hear on the radio or watch on the web. When was the last time you had a real conversation with someone without somebody texting or looking at a screen or a monitor over your head? You know, a conversation about something that wasn’t celebrities, gossip, sports, or pop politics. You know, something important, something personal.
& Frank: I am offended. Not because I got a problem with bitter, predictible, whining millionaire disc jockeys complaining about celebrities or how tough their life is, while I live in an apartment with paper-thin walls next to a couple of Neanderthals who, instead of a baby, decided to give birth to some kind of nocturnal civil defense air raid siren that goes off every fucking night like it’s Pearl Harbor. I’m not offended that they act like it’s my responsibility to protect their rights to pick on the weak like pack animals, or that we’re supposed to support their freedom of speech when they don’t give a fuck about yours or mine.
Coworker: So, you’re against free speech now? That’s in the Bill of Rights, man.
Frank: I would defend their freedom of speech if I thought it was in jeopardy. I would defend their freedom of speech to tell uninspired, bigoted, blowjob, gay-bashing, racist and rape jokes all under the guise of being edgy, but that’s not the edge. That’s what sells. They couldn’t possibly pander any harder or be more commercially mainstream, because this is the “Oh no, you didn’t say that!” generation, where a shocking comment has more weight than the truth. No one has any shame anymore, and we’re supposed to celebrate it. I saw a woman throw a used tampon at another woman last night on network television, a network that bills itself as “Today’s Woman’s Channel”. Kids beat each other blind and post it on Youtube. I mean, do you remember when eating rats and maggots on Survivor was shocking? It all seems so quaint now. I’m sure the girls from “2 Girls 1 Cup” are gonna have their own dating show on VH-1 any day now. I mean, why have a civilization anymore if we no longer are interested in being civilized?
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club — Beat The Devil’s Tattoo
♪ You have forsaken all the love you’ve taken ♪
♪ sleeping on a razor, there’s nowhere left to fall ♪
♪ your body’s aching ♪
♪ every bone is breaking ♪
♪ nothing seems to shake it ♪
♪ it just keeps holding on. ♪
♪ Your soul is able ♪
♪ death is all you cradle ♪
♪ sleeping on the nails ♪
♪ there’s nowhere left to fall ♪
♪ you have admired ♪
♪ every man desires ♪
♪ everyone is king ♪
♪ when there’s no one left to pawn ♪
♪ You have forsaken all the love you’ve taken ♪
♪ sleeping on a razor, there’s nowhere left to fall ♪
♪ your body’s aching ♪
♪ every bone is breaking ♪
♪ nothing seems to shake it ♪
♪ it just keeps holding on. ♪
♪ Your soul is able ♪
♪ death is all you cradle ♪
♪ sleeping on the nails ♪
♪ there’s nowhere left to fall ♪
♪ you have admired ♪
♪ every man desires ♪
♪ everyone is king ♪
♪ when there’s no one left to pawn ♪
& Roxy: Did you just kill Chloe?.. Awesome.
Roxy: Who you’re killing next? Do you take requests? ’Cause I was thinking maybe some Kardashians, my gym coach. People who give high fives. Really, any jock. Twihards. People who talk about punk rock. Who else really rips my cock off?
Frank: Get off the bed!
Roxy: Oh, Mormons and other religious assholes who won’t let gay people be married. And adult women who call their tits the girls.
& Roxy: You really had the chance to do something awesome here. But you’re blowing it, Frank. Now you’re just gonna be remembered as some creepy old stalker dude who was in love with some young twat on a television show. Just a pervy old dude that killed that girl and then himself when he couldn’t have her. Wah.
Frank: I didn’t kill her because I couldn’t have her. I killed her because she wasn’t nice.
& Roxy: And that was a fantastic start, Frank. Your instincts were right on. She was a class-A cunt. But with so many horrible people in the world who should be taking the big dirt nap, why quit now? You kill yourself, Frank, and you’re killing the wrong person, which would be a shame when there are so many other Chloes out there who need to die.
Frank: Like who?
Roxy: Nascar fans, country fans, people who dress their babies in band t-shirts.
Frank: No, no, no, people who deserve to die.
Roxy: All those people do deserve to die.
& Frank: I’m not American apparel. I’m not the creep that came up with those Bratz dolls.
Roxy: All men like young girls.
Frank: That’s what society’s trying to sell you. But, you know, maybe it’s time for adult males to aim a little bit higher than raping kids. I mean, fuck R. Kelly. Fuck Vladimir Nabokov. And fuck Mary Kay LeTourneau while we’re at it. Fuck Woody Allen and his whole “the heart wants what it wants” bullshit. Apparently that erudite genius’ heart wants the same thing that every run-of-the-mill pedophile wants... a young, hairless Asian. Nobody cares that they damage other people.
& Frank: Thanks for not talking during the feature. Thanks for turning off your cell phone.
Moviegoer: You’re welcome.
& Frank: You did a good job.
Roxy: I have a good coach. That and I was pretending the targets were the cast of Glee.
Frank: What’s wrong with “Glee”? It stereotypes and homogenizes homosexuals.
Roxy: Plus it ruined “Rocky Horror” forever.
Frank: That’s true.
& Roxy: I am so depressed. I mean, I can’t believe there’s nothing on about us.
Frank: That’s one of the problems of your generation. You can’t enjoy anything unless it was recorded. You were there. You lived it. Isn’t that enough of an experience? I mean, next time you want to remember something, instead of taking out your cell phone, why don’t you take a picture of it with your brain camera?.. I mean, when I was your age, nobody tweeted, yet we managed to have experiences. You know, a phone was attached to a wall back at the house. It didn’t have a camera.
Roxy: What are you, Jeff Foxworthy? ’And a cell phone was the phone you called your pappy on to get you out of jail. A-do-do-do-do-do.’
& Frank: You know what I hate?.. I hate guys that say ’actually’ all the time. Like, “you actually got a gun to your head.”
Roxy: You know what else I hate? People who misuse the term ’literally.’
Frank: Literal people, I guess... I hate guys that buy $100,000 cars and then drive around 10 Miles slower than the speed limit.
Roxy: I hate guys who wear lady pants.
& Roxy: How’d that feel?
Frank: It felt good. It’s a good night to die.
& Roxy: Musically I’m all about Alice Cooper.
Frank: I like Alice Cooper.
Roxy: You don’t like Alice Cooper, Frank. That’s like a Muslim saying that he likes Mohammed. You accept Alice Cooper. You accept that Alice came down and gave us rock that upset authority figures and made the outcasts not feel so all alone. You accept that there would be no Goth movement without Alice. No Trent Reznor, Marilyn Manson, not even shitty soft cock rockers like Poison or Bon Jovi. Because not only did he introduce macabre theatrics into rock, he also invented the power ballad with a little song called “Only Women Bleed.”
Frank: Okay, I get it. I promise I won’t kill Alice Cooper.
Roxy: Hey, don’t even joke about it, Frank. Do you realize that he was the first rock star to wear makeup? And he was wearing dresses long before Bowie stole his first pair of culottes from his mother’s clothesline. And he was screaming about death and frustration way before punks. So I guess you have to accept that Alice Cooper invented that, too.
& Frank: Are you A.D.D. ’Juno’
Roxy: Yes. I have A.D.D. And don’t you ever call me fucking ’Juno’ again.
Frank: Sorry.
Roxy: That’s who we should kill next.
Frank: A fictitious character?
Roxy: No. Diablo Cody. Fuck her for writing that movie, she’s the only stripper who suffers from too much self esteem.
Frank: I don’t want to kill people just because you don’t like their movies.
Roxy: Why not? She’s encouraging teen pregnancy. Her storylines and characters are for shit. And she’s just so excited to throw any funny line she’s heard into the scene that she makes girls my age look like cutesy assholes from a dirty Dr. Seuss book.
& Frank: I only want to kill people who deserve to die.
Roxy: You know who we should kill?
Frank: Frank: Who?
Roxy: People who use rockstar as an adjective. As in rockstar parking.
Frank: Frank: People who pound energy drinks all day.
Roxy: People who use the term ’edgy,’ ’in your face,’ or ’extreme.’
Frank: Oh, no, no, wait. That would rule out a lot of the chalupas that love.
Roxy: Anyone who wears crystals or calls themselves spiritual.
Frank: Or people who say namaste.
Roxy: What’s that?
Frank: It’s an Indian greeting the hippies stole.
Roxy: Oh, hippies. Anyone who buys an anarchy t-shirt.
Frank: Or people who use thee term ’the man’ in a positive or negative light. As in, “the man is always sticking it to us” or “you’re the man.”
Roxy: Anyone who’s ever been pumped.
Frank: Or stoked.
Roxy: Anyone who gives and receives physical high fives.
Frank: Agreed.
& Roxy: Wow. Look at all these people.
Frank: Yeah. I wish I had an AK-47.
& Roxy: So are we gonna kill him?
Frank: No... I want him to suffer.
& Roxy: You know what you need, Frank?
Frank: A straw?
Roxy: You need a vacation.
& Frank: Hey, doc. It’s Frank Murdock. You left a message?
Doc: Yes, I did, Frank. Uh, I have some bad news. Um, you don’t have a brain tumor.
& Gun dealer: Old school. Walther p38. German, 9mm. Made during the second world war. I mean, who knows how to kill people better than the Germans, right? You know it’s got to be good. You’re not a Jew, Frank, are you? I’m just asking ’cause, you know, I brought up a German gun.
& Gun dealer: Is that a honey or what? AK-47. When you absolutely, positively have to waste every single motherfucker in the room.
& Frank: My name is Frank. That’s not important. The important question is: who are you? America has become a cruel and vicious place. We reward the shallowest, the dumbest, the meanest and the loudest. We no longer have any common sense of decency. No sense of shame. There is no right and wrong. The worst qualities in people are looked up to and celebrated. Lying and spreading fear is fine as long as you make money doing it. We’ve become a nation of slogan-saying, bile-spewing hatemongers. We’ve lost our kindness. We’ve lost our soul. What have we become? We take the weakest in our society, we hold them up to be ridiculed, laughed at for our sport and entertainment. Laughed at to the point, where they would literally rather kill themselves than live with us anymore.
--
+ quotes on the Imdb.
__ Wow. Simply, there are no words. Frank (& Roxy, of course) said them all.
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