Whatever Works
That's notwhat I'm saying, you imbecile.
God, you completely
misrepresent my ideas!
Why am I even bothering
talking to such idiots?
- Boris, calm down.
- No, don't tell me to... I am calm.
Don'tjump on usjust because we
don't understand what you're saying.
I didn'tjump on you.
It's not the idea behind Christianity
I'm faulting, or Judaism, or any religion.
It's the professionals who've
made it into a corporate business.
There's big money in the
God racket. Big money.
- Here we go.
- We know, Boris.
Jesus are quite wonderful.
So, by the way, is the original
intention of Karl Marx. Okay?
Hey, what could be bad?
Everybody should share equally.
Do unto others. Democracy.
Government by the people.
All great ideas. These are all great ideas,
but they all suffer from one fatal flaw.
- Which is?
- Yeah, what's that?
Which is they're all based
on the fallacious notion
that people are fundamentally decent.
Give them a chance to do
right and they'll take it.
They're not stupid, selfish, greedy,
cowardly, short-sighted worms.
They do the best they can.
Speak foryourself,
man. Speak foryourself.
All I'm saying is that people make
life so much worse than it has to be
and, believe me, it's a
But on the whole, I'm sorry
to say, we're a failed species.
- I wouldn't go that far.
- Not Ed.
That's why this woman you like, Joe,
so what if she's an embalmer's assistant,
so she stinks from formaldehyde?
For Christ's sake, you got to take
what little pleasure you can find
in this chamber of horrors.
A little formaldehyde,
okay, but she reeks of it.
You know, they don't knowyour
story. Boris, tell them your story.
My story is, whateverworks. You know,
as long as you don't hurt anybody.
Any way you can filch a little joy
in this cruel, dog-eat-dog, pointless,
black chaos. That's my story.
No. That's not... Tell them the story.
- Tell them.
- Yeah. Tell them.
You justwant me to say it
again, so they can hear.
- Who?
- Them.
- Who?
- Who's them?
- You see something out there?
- Where?
What are you? An imbecile?
There's an audience full
- An audience?
- What's he talking about?
You feel you're being watched.
They paid good money for
tickets, hard-earned money,
so some moron in Hollywood
can buy a bigger swimming pool.
Okay, you're saying there are human beings
out there who bought tickets to watch us.
Well, mostly they're
interested in me, I have to say.
Yeah, they're just sitting
there. Don't you see them?
Some are eating popcorn, some
are just staring straight ahead
breathing through their
mouths like Neanderthals.
So they're there to
listen to your story?
- Total delusions of grandeur.
- Completely.
Why would you want to hear my story?
Do we know each other?
Do we like each other?
Let me tell you right off, okay?
I'm not a likeable guy. Charm
has never been a priority with me.
And just so you know, this is not
the feel-good movie ofthe year.
So ifyou're one ofthose
idiots who needs to feel good,
go get yourself a foot massage.
- Mom, that man's talking to himself!
- Come away, Justin.
What the hell does it all mean
anyhow? Nothing. Zero. Zilch.
Nothing comes to anything, and yet
there's no shortage of idiots to babble.
Not me. I have a vision.
I'm discussing you.
Your friends, your co-workers,
your newspapers, the TV.
Everybody's happy to talk,
full of misinformation.
Morality, science, religion,
politics, sports, love.
Your portfolio, your
children, health. Christ.
If I have to eat nine servings
offruits and vegetables a day to live,
I don'twant to live. I hate
goddamn fruits and vegetables.
And your omega-3's and the
treadmill and the cardiogram
and the mammogram and
the pelvic sonogram
and, oh, my God, the colonoscopy!
And with it all, the day still
comes when they put you in a box
and it's on to the next
generation of idiots
who'll also tell you all about life
and define foryou what's appropriate.
My father committed suicide because
the morning newspapers depressed him.
With the horror and corruption
and ignorance and poverty
global warming and terrorism
and the family-value
morons and the gun morons!
"The horror," Kurtz said at the end
of Heart ofDarkness. "The horror. "
Lucky Kurtz didn't have the Times delivered
in the jungle, then he'd see some horror.
Butwhat do you do?
You read about some massacre in Darfur
or some school bus gets blown up,
and you go, "Oh, my God, the horror!"
And then you turn the page and finish
your eggs from free-range chickens.
Because what can you
do? It's overwhelming.
I tried to commit suicide myself.
Obviously, it didn'twork out.
Butwhy do you even want to hear about all
this? Christ, you got your own problems.
I'm sure you're all obsessed with any
number of sad little hopes and dreams.
Your predictably unsatistying love
lives. Your failed business ventures.
"Oh, if only I'd bought that stock!"
"If only I had purchased
"If only I had made
a move on thatwoman. "
Ifthis, ifthat. You knowwhat?
Give me a break with your "could
haves" and "should haves. "
Like my mother used to say,
"If my grandmother had wheels,
she'd be a trolley car. "
My mother didn't have wheels.
She had varicose veins.
Still, the woman gave
birth to a brilliant mind.
I was considered for a
Nobel Prize in physics.
I didn't get it.
But, you know, it's all politics,
just like every other phony honor.
Incidentally, don't think I'm bitter
because of some personal setback.
By the standards of a mindless, barbaric
civilization, I've been pretty lucky.
I was married to a beautiful
woman, who had family money.
Foryears we lived on Beekman Place.
I taught at Columbia. String theory.
What's the matter, Boris?
I'm dying!
What is it?
I'm dying!
Should I call an ambulance?
No! No, not now! No, not
tonight! I mean, eventually!
- Boris, everybody dies.
- It's unacceptable!
Your panic attacks are getting
more frequent and more intense.
You have to go back on your medicine.
I'm not going back on
my goddamn medicine.
I won't have my mind
befuddled by chemicals
when I'm the only one who sees the
whole picture for exactly what it is.
Where's the goddamn vodka?
Boris, I have clients
to see tomorrow morning.
- It is 4:
00 a. m!- Clients. Right. Wealthy bankers.
To design their chic apartment, to fill
it full of art and expensive possessions,
so they can flaunt their money
and be in the top 1% ofthis
shameful, violent, prejudiced,
illiterate, sexually repressed,
self-righteous nation!
Christ, it is 4:
00 a. m. Can youspare me this sophomoric tirade!
I'm a man with a huge worldview.
I'm surrounded by microbes!
And what about me? Am I a microbe?
Is our son at Yale a microbe?
Let's face it, Jessica, okay?
Our marriage hasn't
been a garden of roses.
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"Whatever Works" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/whatever_works_23303>.
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