Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and
everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my
back.
Fuck 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 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 speak English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafes,
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! Imclone! 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 pomaded hair, their nylon
warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason
Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the
Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their
fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and
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 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 anus 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 JC! 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 fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, 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 Naturel 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
Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake
crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the
waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
