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.

Hey, the basic teachings of

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

nightmare without their help.

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

of people looking at us.

- 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.

And could you blame him?

With the horror and corruption

and ignorance and poverty

and genocide and AIDS and

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

that house years ago!"

"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 you

spare 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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