Henry Fool Page #4

No.

Well, then you must

be here to fix the plumbing.

I'm here to see

Mr. Angus James.

Are you?

The book we know, Angus, will be

a thing of the past in a few years.

Novels, articles, newspapers,

Will all be downloaded onto a PC.

You're telling me to get

out of the publishing business?

We've got to reinvent the publishing

business for the electronic age.

I'm sorry to disturb you, gentlemen.

There's a wound up garbage man...

that seems to have written a poem.

A long poem.

And I recall how in last month's

meeting you stressed the need...

for us to be on the lookout for

more marginalized verse from...

un-established quarters

of the American scene.

-Did I say that?

-You did.

Twice.

Okay, Laura. Make an appointment.

Sometime next month.

Right-o.

So, how is the digital revolution

is going to help me sell books?

Why can't I see him now?

Because he's a very

important man, and...

you're not.

Be reasonable.

Why?

I don't think people are gonna

prefer reading books on televisions.

-It's not television...

-It's interactive.

Angus, look. We have

a number of charts here...

In every home in America, the PC

is gonna be where the TV used to be.

And it'll be a direct connection

to all forms of media.

An unprecedented transformation

in American social life.

We'll become more informed, more

literate, increasingly productive...

and, well, like I said,

we have a number of charts.

I'm sorry to disturb you

again, gentlemen, but...

I'll call security for this one. But

before I do, I wanted to ask you...

just how marginal the undiscovered

voice of American poetry should be?

-Pretty damn marginal, I think.

-Downright controversial, probably.

-How's he striking?

-He's denounced by the Local Board.

I read about him. He hangs around

a delicatessen writing pornography.

Hello. Why do you think I should

take my valuable time to read this?

-Because it's a masterpiece.

-Really? Are you hearing this?

-He's adorable.

-I wouldn't want to waste your time.

I'm sure not. I assume you can

take some straightforward criticism.

Just say "yes."

Maybe.

Get him a coffee, Laura.

-Have a seat, Mr. Grim.

-Hold my calls for half an hour.

-What about Steve?

-He doesn't drink coffee. Do you?

Angus, listen...

-Henry, put those magazines back.

-I'm just looking at the pictures.

-It's not good for you.

-I learn so much from these magazines.

I refuse to discriminate

between modes of knowing.

-You can't smoke in here anymore.

-Why not?

It's the law.

This place is losing

all its charm, Mr. Deng.

Business is good. The kids

hang out all day, drink coffee...

...talk about art and read poetry.

-It's just a fad.

These kids today,

they're just slaves to fashion.

This is really quite

unbelievably bad, my friend.

I've made a career

out of disregard for convention.

But this is profoundly

irrelevant material.

This is only my opinion,

but it is one I value highly.

Good night, Laura. Call Norton

if we're still on for tomorrow.

I refuse to admit that I've ever

been wrong as a reader.

You got talent. You have an innate

sense of the musicality of language.

A good ear, maybe. But you

do nothing significant with it.

And this twisted reasoning that

poses as conviction or insight...

it's...

well, it's embarrassing.

Why did you bring

this thing to me anyway?

A friend of mine spoke of you.

He said you had a lot of integrity.

Yes, well, of course

I do, but I'm not crazy.

Who is this person?

Do I know him?

His name is Henry Fool.

Never heard of him.

I remember Henry.

He used to be

the janitor here.

Simon?

-How much do I owe you?

-US$ 25.

That can't be right. So what,

my credit's good. Hey, Warren!

-You got a couple of bucks?

-I remind you to vote this Tuesday.

Of course. When noble minds shrink

from the task of leadership...

scoundrels will rush in

to fill the void. Thanks.

It's every American's right.

A blessing.

And yet another opportunity

to save America from itself.

Anybody home?

Mom?

Henry, got any cigarettes?

Let us pray.

Lord, grant the peace be within

reach for our friend Mary.

May the pain and confusion

she endured on Earth...

be forth through

in the afterlife...

so that she may enter

the kingdom of heaven...

and live in the light of God.

Amen.

So I was a janitor. So what?

-Angus said he didn't even know you.

-We weren't like bosom buddies.

We used to talk sometimes,

in the elevator, in the mornings.

He said he liked my ideas.

Being a janitor is a good

job if you're a writer.

Especially the night shift. All that

time to think and develop ideas.

Do it.

-Anyway, he hated my poem.

-What the hell does he know?

He wouldn't know a vital piece

of literary art if it bit him!

The hell with him! He's not

the only publisher in the world.

-Nobody likes it.

-It's true.

A prophet is seldom heeded

in his own land. Remember that.

Do it.

Hey, look. Treasure.

-What is this?

-Brass, maybe some kind of copper.

It's a ring. Jewelry.

I think it's a gasket, a fitting for

that old refrigerator over there.

Warren, I found Pearl wandering

around by the garbage dump.

-He lost.

-Who lost?

-Congressman Feer.

-Somebody's gotta lose.

What's the f***ing use?

You make sacrifices,

Try to be a decent human being...

try to contribute something

meaningful to society...

and then lose to a bunch

of cultural elite liberal f***-ups.

I don't give a sh*t anymore.

People deserve what they get.

Vicky?

What happened to you?

He's a good man, Henry.

Nobody's perfect.

I guess not.

He's terribly disappointed.

Thanks.

She gets scared.

And you don't?

I love him.

-Where's the beer?

-No more beer.

Coffee. Espresso. Cappuccino. Caf

Au Lait. Carrot Juice. Cup of tea.

Give me a double espresso

and a jolly doughnut, Gnoc.

Do you mind paying?

My credit's no good here anymore.

Did you go to the

employment agency today, Henry?

No. But it's okay. Simon's gonna

give me a job on the garbage truck.

-I'm concerned about your friend.

-Simon?

It seems he gave an obscene

note to a girl in the library.

-Get out of here. When?

-I'm not sure.

-This is obviously a love letter.

-We've had complaints.

-Where did you get it?

-She posted it on the Internet.

Oh, slut!

She was trying to warn other

girls about a potential rapist.

Does all of this is

true about the Internet?

-About how you can get pornography?

-Sure. It's a serious problem.

-You can send dirty pictures.

-On the Internet?

-Yeah.

-No kidding.

I'll see you

on Thursday, Henry.

Gnoc, give me another one of these

double espressos to go, will ya?

Hello, Fay.

Go away.

You gotta get out

of the house, Fay.

You can't blame yourself for not

being here. You did all you could.

Is there something you want?

Have you got the Internet

on that contraption?

Yeah, so what?

Look, Fay. About between

us, what happened.

I don't want to

talk about it, Henry.

Type that part of Simon's

poem onto the Internet.

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