The following is a very powerful monologue that Ed Norton recites in the Spike Lee movie "The 25th Hour"... It's very much about NYC... Parental Discretion is advised.
(Monty walks into the bathroom. He looks in the mirror.
In the bottom corner, someone's written "Fuck You!")
Monty: Yeah, fuck you, too.
Monty's Reflection:
Fuck me? Fuck you!
Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money,
Grinning behind my back.
These squeegee men dirtying up my clean windshield.
Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis
Bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs,
curry steaming out their pores and 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 and on my piers,
Jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers
With their pyramids of overpriced fruit
And their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic.
Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach.
Mobster thugs sitting in cafés,
Sipping tea in little glasses,
Sugar cubes between their teeth.
Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'.
Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim,
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 mother fuckers,
Figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind.
Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life!
You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit?
Give me a fucking break!
Tyco! Inclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans.
20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls,
Worst fuckin parade in the city.
And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans,
Because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their palmaded hair,
Their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions.
Swinging their dainty,
Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats,
Trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives
With their Armani scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes.
Overfed faces getting pulled and stretched,
All taut and shiny.
You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers.
They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense,
They take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop.
And then they want to turn around
And blame everything on the white man.
Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago.
Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops
With their penis violating plungers and their 41 shots,
Standing behind a blue wall of silence.
You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests
Who put their hands down some innocent child's pants.
Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil.
And while you're at it, fuck J.C.!
He got off easy!
A day on the cross, a weekend in hell,
And all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity!
Try seven years in fucking Otisville, J.!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al-Queda,
And backward-ass, cave-dwelling,
Fundamentalist assholes everywhere.
On the names of innocent thousands murdered,
I pray you spend the rest of eternity
With your seventy-two whores
Roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell.
You towel headed camel jockeys
Can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery,
My best friend, judging me
While he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturelle Rivera.
I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back.
Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief,
Standing behind that bar.
Sipping on club soda,
Selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it.
From the row houses 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 parks slope
To the split levels in Staten Island.
If we have an earthquake, I'll welcome it.
Let the fires rage.
Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise
And submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan.
You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!
(Monty walks into the bathroom. He looks in the mirror.
In the bottom corner, someone's written "Fuck You!")
Monty: Yeah, fuck you, too.
Monty's Reflection:
Fuck me? Fuck you!
Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money,
Grinning behind my back.
These squeegee men dirtying up my clean windshield.
Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis
Bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs,
curry steaming out their pores and 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 and on my piers,
Jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers
With their pyramids of overpriced fruit
And their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic.
Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach.
Mobster thugs sitting in cafés,
Sipping tea in little glasses,
Sugar cubes between their teeth.
Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'.
Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim,
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 mother fuckers,
Figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind.
Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life!
You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit?
Give me a fucking break!
Tyco! Inclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans.
20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls,
Worst fuckin parade in the city.
And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans,
Because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their palmaded hair,
Their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions.
Swinging their dainty,
Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats,
Trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives
With their Armani scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes.
Overfed faces getting pulled and stretched,
All taut and shiny.
You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers.
They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense,
They take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop.
And then they want to turn around
And blame everything on the white man.
Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago.
Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops
With their penis violating plungers and their 41 shots,
Standing behind a blue wall of silence.
You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests
Who put their hands down some innocent child's pants.
Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil.
And while you're at it, fuck J.C.!
He got off easy!
A day on the cross, a weekend in hell,
And all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity!
Try seven years in fucking Otisville, J.!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al-Queda,
And backward-ass, cave-dwelling,
Fundamentalist assholes everywhere.
On the names of innocent thousands murdered,
I pray you spend the rest of eternity
With your seventy-two whores
Roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell.
You towel headed camel jockeys
Can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery,
My best friend, judging me
While he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturelle Rivera.
I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back.
Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief,
Standing behind that bar.
Sipping on club soda,
Selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it.
From the row houses 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 parks slope
To the split levels in Staten Island.
If we have an earthquake, I'll welcome it.
Let the fires rage.
Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise
And submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan.
You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!
