The Secret of Spoons

American Gods 1×2

& Anansi: Did you know your momma couldn’t swim? You all need to work on that. Take swimming lessons. This is how we get stereotypes.

& Anansi: Let me tell you a story. «Once upon a time, a man got fucked...» Now, how is that for a story? ’Cause that’s the story of black people in America.

& Anansi: Shit, you all don’t know you black yet. You think you just people. Let me be the first to tell you that you are all black. The moment these Dutch motherfuckers set foot here and decided they white, and you get to be black, and that’s the nice name they call you...

& Anansi: The only good news is the tobacco your grandkids are gonna farm for free is gonna give a shitload of these white motherfuckers cancer. And I ain’t even started yet.

& Anansi: A hundred years later... You’re fucked. A hundred years after that... Fucked. A hundred years after you get free, you still getting fucked out a job and shot at by police. You see what I’m saying?

& Anansi: This guy gets it. I like him. He’s getting angry. Angry is good. Angry gets shit done.

& Mr. Wednesday: About that little shit in the big limo... An assault on you is an insult to me. Don’t think because I didn’t lose my temper I’m not angry or I’m lacking a plan.

& Mr. Wednesday: Too many people tell each other not to repress their emotions, to release their feelings, to let the pain go. There’s a lot to be said for bottling up emotions.

& Mr. Wednesday: We’re not taking the highway. Not now, not ever. No highways.
    Shadow Moon: Okay, okay, no highways. Why no highways?
    Mr. Wednesday: Seen one, seen ’em all. No chance for serendipitous lovely. Let there be beauty where there can be.

& Shadow Moon: What’s in Chicago?
    Mr. Wednesday: My hammer.

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& Mr. Wednesday: ...we can agree now you bring me receipts or you don’t skim more than a reasonable 5 percent.
    Shadow Moon: I’m not gonna steal from you.
    Mr. Wednesday: You can’t look out for yourself, how the hell you gonna look out for me?

& Media: Funny how things supposed to make you look good only make it worse.

& Shadow Moon: The fuck is this?
    Media: Just little old me.
    Shadow Moon: Talking to Lucille Ball...
    Media: Lucy Ricardo.

& Media: The screen is the altar. I’m the one they sacrifice to.

& Media: They sit side by side, ignore each other, and give it up to me. Now they hold a smaller screen on their lap or in the palm of their hand so they don’t get bored watching the big one. Time and attention, better than lamb’s blood.

& Media: Look at it like this, Shadow: We’re the coming thing. We are already here. We are self-driving cars and 3D printers and subdermal time-release insulin. And your old boss is still selling oranges on the side of the road. Not even organic.

& Mr. Wednesday: Seems you have a choice. You may have to consider that you didn’t see what you saw....
    Shadow Moon: Or...
    Mr. Wednesday: Or you did. The world is either crazy or you are. They’re both solid options. Take your pick, and when you decide, come and tell me. But don’t rush into it. Take your time. Difficult decision.

& Zorya Vechernyaya: Oh, Czernobog is nobody’s husband. I am nobody’s wife. Relatives. We come over here together long time ago...

& Zorya Vechernyaya: Family is who you survive with when you need to survive. Even if you do not like them.

& Shadow Moon: Thought you were supposed to read tea leaves...
    Zorya Vechernyaya: Tea is disgusting!

& Shadow Moon: So what does it say?
    Zorya Vechernyaya: You will have a long life, and a happy one, with many children.
    Shadow Moon: That bad, huh? Any good news?

& Czernobog: You’re black, right?
    Shadow Moon: ... That a problem?
    Czernobog: Eh, we never much care about skin, like the Americans. Where we’re from, everyone has the same color, so we must fight over shades.

& Zorya Vechernyaya: No cow-killing stories during dinner!
    Czernobog: How do you think meat get on your plate? Huh? It takes strength, but not only strength. It takes talent, because it’s a craft....

& Czernobog: ...To give a good death is art. But nowadays, they have this bolt gun. You know? Put it on the forehead. Yeah. Now every monkey with a thumb can kill.

& Czernobog: Hey, do you know checkers?.. Yeah, people go crazy for chess. But you know what? Checkers is honest. Hmm.
    Shadow Moon: Every man’s an equal.
    Czernobog: Eh, exactly.

& Shadow Moon: All right, if-if all this is real, and— and— and TVs talk, and she can read fortunes and hammers bleed, and if there is a world... under a world... Yo, fuck it. Is good.

& Czernobog: So at sunrise, I get to knock your brains out. And you will go down on your knees... willingly. Is good?.. A shame. You’re my only black friend.

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