The Rum Diary Page #4

And it requires

some shut mouth.

Oh, don't waste

your time on

those junkyard losers.

This country was

built on genocide

and slavery.

We killed

all the black guys

that were here,

and then

we shipped in new

black guys of our own,

and then we

brought in Jesus,

like a bar of soap.

Let's go.

You know it.

I am the religious

correspondent.

F*** off with

your Jesus Police!

If the Bible's God's

book, why didn't He

give it to everyone?

(DOOR SLAMS)

(SIGHS)

"We give more money

to parking meters than

we do to kids to eat."

Don't read me like that.

I've done the research.

went down in the bay

full of hydrochloric acid.

Killed off

everything in the sea.

Killed off the fishermen.

Their kids

are picking garbage.

All right, don't get angry.

It's hot outside.

You want a Scotch?

Yeah.

Ten years ago...

Five. Five years ago,

I might have said go after it.

Now I say go with it.

There's nothing you can change.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Sometimes you just

got to spew over the side

and keep rowing.

(CHUCKLES)

lnto a nut brown sunset.

It's the land of

multiple outrage.

Thousands trodden on

before you wake up

for breakfast.

That isn't news,

it's a commercial reality.

And providing it

isn't their sunset,

nobody gives

one-fifth of a f***.

You underestimate your readers.

I don't think so.

You underestimate me.

You told me to make it work,

that's what I want to do.

Wind down this La Zonga crap

and make a newspaper.

Let me tell you

some home truth.

This paper's been

on its knees to a bank

since the day it opened.

And like most every other

newspaper on Earth,

it's financed

by its advertising.

And without advertising,

not only is

there no La Zonga,

there's no paper

to put it in, so, thus,

there are one or two things

that we don't write about.

In other words, nothing at all.

In one other word, discretion.

You're not

a foreign correspondent

in some far-flung

foreign land,

this is America.

This is Puerto Rico.

This is America.

You think some plumber

from Normal, Illinois,

saves up for 25 years

to come here

on a cruise ship

to read about bad times

in the sugar plantation?

They don't give a f***!

The average guy

don't rock the boat,

'cause he wants

to climb aboard it.

And our readership

is vividly average.

(CHUCKLES)

They don't care

who the losers are.

(CHUCKLES) They want

to know who won.

Who won the bowls,

who won the races,

who won the pot

at the slot machines.

Look at me, Kemp.

You're not sleeping,

you're wide awake.

And this is the American Dream.

So many hotels,

you can't see the sea.

You can see the sea

by checking into

the hotels.

Pay to see the sea?

What's the matter with that?

You're paying to be

in the dream.

There's a thin veneer, Kemp,

between the dream

and the reality.

You wake them up

and the people might start

asking for their money back.

You're the boss.

Not quite.

The editorial policy

of this newspaper

is owned by the dream.

Oh, God.

Oh, Christ.

Oh, God, look at that.

Oh, God!

Hal?

Oh.

No, no, I'm a friend of Hal's.

I was looking at his boat.

She's a sweet little beauty.

You been aboard?

No.

Great little island hopper.

We've all been down on her.

It's a wonderful experience.

You two are early.

Oh, you got lucky.

SANDERSON:
Yeah.

Did you meet?

Oh, yeah, we got first names.

Art Zimburger, late of

the U.S. Marines,

great friend of mine.

This is Mr. Paul Kemp,

New York Times.

Oh, you're the writer.

Paul's a novelist.

Uh-huh.

(MR. ZIMBURGER CHUCKLES)

New York Times?

He don't know one

from the other.

Just go with it.

This guy's key.

Key to what?

Key to the discussion

we're about to have.

Look at those mothers.

Come with me, Kemp.

This is a private beach.

We are not on it.

No, but we are!

And what we do is private!

Now get the f*** gone!

Get the f*** out of here!

I see your face again,

you're gonna have

a 1 2-gauge shotgun

telling you what to do.

Talking about Satan...

If there ever was

a kingdom of Satan,

the Soviet Union is it.

The only way to come

to terms with Communism

is to destroy it.

Hit it before it hits us

in a devastating

democratic strike.

No more for the major.

They're looking for a man

to push that button,

I am that man.

MRS. ZIMBURGER:

Yes, you are, honey.

You look ravishing, Chenault.

Thank you.

You need rescuing?

Oh, don't take him away.

He's very entertaining.

(CHUCKLES)

We were discussing Cuba and,

I don't know, we kind of

veered off, didn't we?

Paul presents us

with a somewhat

liberal point of view.

MR. ZIMBURGER:

There is no such thing

as a liberal.

A liberal is a Commie

with a college education

thinking Negro thoughts.

Well, here's a fact for you.

are controlled from Moscow.

That's why Castro gets

such an easy ride.

In my view,

we ought to bomb Cuba

off the face of the Earth,

let its people

live in peace.

Art.

Hey.

Come on, let's eat.

Come on.

Who's the guy in the shades?

Segurra's Daddy.

It's who you're waiting for.

Oh.

Thank you for my roses.

I didn't think you noticed.

Of course I noticed.

SANDERSON:

Paul, would you mind

joining us?

Oh.

How do you do, sir?

Mr. Kemp.

Nice to see you.

Mr. Kemp.

Okay.

Let me just start by saying

this is a purely

informal meeting.

And, incidentally,

you don't worry

about Lotterman, okay?

Lotterman?

What the hell's Lotterman

got to do with

The New York Times?

Mr. Kemp subs for

a variety of newspapers.

Occasionally, he writes

for the news.

What he does

in his spare time

is his affair.

That's how I like it.

We'd like you to do

some writing for us.

So I gather.

About what?

SANDERSON:
In a sentence,

we want to set something up,

and have the public

as our friends.

And there are a variety

of ways we can do that.

Let me tell you how this kind

of thing works, Paul.

Suppose, by way of example,

you wanted to put up taxes

by five percent.

The smart way of doing it

is to float the idea

of a ten percent hike.

Let them all shout about it,

get themselves in a fuss,

then you offer concessions.

"How about seven percent?"

"No way," they'll say.

"All right, let's

stay friends and make

a compromise at five."

Bingo.

They think they won something,

you get the five percent

you wanted

in the first place.

Same thing applies

to real estate.

You want to build five houses,

you put in a planning

application for 50.

How many do you want to build?

None.

We want to build one hotel.

Well, looking

around this place,

I don't think

anyone would notice.

Lt isn't in this place.

It's an island.

Sensitive for a variety

of reasons we don't

want to get into now.

Nobody wants a paradise

choked with hotels, but

everybody will be pleased

to compromise at one.

This is going to require

some clever writing

in various

carefully placed articles.

Isn't that

kind of thing illegal?

MR. ZIMBURGER:

If I may say, Mr. Kemp,

that's an

inappropriate comment.

Where's the island?

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