Rivelazione. [notturna]

 

Yeah, fuck you, too.

Fuck me? Fuck you.

Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.

Fuck the panhandlers grubbing for money,

smiling at me behind my back.

Fuck the squeegee men, dirtying up the clean windshield of my car.

Get a fucking job!

Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis

bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs,

curry steaming outta their pores, stinking up my day.

Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!

Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps.

Going down on each other in my parks on my piers

jiggling their dicks on my channel 35!

Fuck the Korean grocers, their pyramids overpriced fruit,

their roses wrapped in plastic.

Ten years in the country and still no speek-ee English.

Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach.

Mobster thughs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses.

Sugar cubes between their teeth.

Wheeling, dealing, scheming. Go back where you fucking came from!

Fuck the black-hatted Hasidim,

strolling up and down 47th Street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff,

selling South African apartheid diamonds.

Fuck the Wall Street brokers, self-styled masters of the universe,

Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe motherfuckers

figuring out new ways to rob hard-working people blind.

Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life.

Do you think Bush and Cheney didn’t known about that shit?

Give me a fucking break!

Tyco. ImClone. Adelphia.

Fuck the Puerto Ricans, 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls.

Worst fucking parade in the city.

And don’t even get me started on the dumb-in-the-cans

‘cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good.

Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair

and nylon warm-up suits, their St Antony medallions.

Swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats,

auditioning for “The Sopranos”!

Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves,

and $50 Balducci antichokes.

Overfed faces getting pulled, lifted and stretched all taut and shiny.

You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart!

Fuck the uptown brothers.

They never pass the ball, they don’t wanna play defense,

they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop,

and then they wanna turn around and blame everything on the white man.

Slavery ended 137 years ago. Move the fuck on!

Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers

and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence.

You betray our trust!

Fuck priest who put their hands down some innocent child’s pants.

Fuck the church that protect them, delivering us into evil.

And while you’re at it, fuck JC! He got off easy.

A day on the cross, a weekend in hell and all the hallelujahs

of legioned angels for eternity.

Try seven years in fucking Otisville, J.

Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al-Qaeda, and backward-assed

cave dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere.

On the names of innocent thousand murdered,

I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your 72 whores

roasting in a jet-fuelled fire in hell.

You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass!

Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent.

Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend,

judging me while he stares at my girlfriend’s ass.

Fuck Naturelle Riviera.

I gave her my trust and she stabbed my in the back.

Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.

Fuck my father with his endless grief standing that bar,

sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to fireman

and cheering the Bronx Bombers.

Fuck this all city and everyone in it

From the rowhouses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue.

From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in SoHo.

From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope,

to the split-levels in Staten Island.

Let an earthquake crumble it.

Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fucking ash.

And then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.

No…

No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan.

You had it all and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

 

(Edward Norton - La 25° ora)

 

Done