We did it all. We did it all. We did whatever we could get our hands on back in the seventies. We did fucking handfuls of mushrooms, pills, ludes, coke, whatever it was, we just fucking swallowed it, okay? That's what we did! People go, "Well why didn't you go into rehab?" We didn't have rehab back in the seventies. Back in the seventies rehab meant you'd stop doing coke, but you kept smoking pot and drinking for a couple more weeks, you know? "Yeah, give me a case of Budweiser and an ounce. I gotta slow down. Jesus Christ! I'm outta control. Look at the size of my pants, for Christ's sake!"
Because that's the big thing now. Rehab is the big fucking secret now. Isn't it, huh? Yeah, you can do whatever you want. Just go into rehab and solve your problems. Isn't that the big celebrity thing? That's what I'm gonna do. Yeah, I'm gonna get famous. Then my career starts to flag, I'm gonna go on a three month fucking bender, okay? Coke, and fucking pot, and smack, and fucking booze, and drive over people, and beat up my kids, go into therapy, go into rehab, come outta rehab, be on the cover of People Magazine, "Sorry! I fucked up!"
That's what they do, man. They go into rehab and they come out and they blame everybody except themselves. They blame their parents, right? That's the way. Everybody comes from a dysfunctional family all of the sudden, huh? Roseanne Barr comes from a dysfunctional family? Not Roseanne! She seems so normal to me! The Jacksons were dysfunctional? Not the Jacksons! These people give each other new heads for Christmas, for Christ's sake! I am sick and tired of hearing that fucking speech, you know?
These people come out of rehab, they always have the same story. "Well, you know, I became an alcoholic because my parents didn't love me enough. And then I became a junkie because my parents didn't love me enough. And I went into hypnosis in therapy and I found out that parents used to hit me--" Hey! My parents used to beat the living shit out of me, okay? And looking back on it, I'm glad they did! And I'm looking forward to beating the shit out of my kids, aren't you? For no reason whatsoever. "What'd you hit me for?" "Shut up and get out there and mow the lawn, for Christ's sake!" There's therapy for you! Mowing the lawn and crying at the same time. (whining) "The Leary kid's in therapy again. Their lawn looks great, it's unbelievable!" God...
"I'm just not happy. I'm just not happy. I'm just not happy because my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would." Hey, join the fucking club, okay? I thought I was going to be the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Sox. Life sucks, get a fucking helmet, all right?
"I'm not happy. I'm not happy." Nobody's happy, okay? Happiness comes in small doses, folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate-chip cookie, or a five-second orgasm. That's it, okay? You come, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep, you get up in the morning and go to fucking work, okay? That is it! End of fucking list!
"I'm just not happy." Shut the fuck up, all right? That's the name of my new book, Shut the Fuck Up, by Doctor Denis Leary. A revolutionary new form of therapy. I'm gonna have my patients come in. "Doctor, I--" "Shut the fuck up! Next!" "I don't feel so--" "Shut the fuck up! Next!" "He made me feel so much better about myself, you know? He just told me to shut the fuck up and nobody had ever told me that before. I feel so much better now." Whining fucking maggots!
And all these people quitting. I think it's a good thing, AA. And the recovery and rehab, because I've got some friends who'd be dead without those programs, but you know something? Now they've got a new problem. Because now they quit drinking and drugs, they're completely stressed out, and they decide to work out, which is fine. I'm not a workout guy, but I understood Nautilus. It made sense. There were arm machines and leg machines. But have you seen these people who are using the stairmaster? Huh? Have we turned into gerbils, ladies and gentlemen? People are paying money to go into a health club and walk up invisible steps over and over again for an hour and a half. "Where are you going?" "I'm going up! And I paid for it, too! I can stay here as long as I want!" Folks, you want to go up and down stairs, move into a fifth-floor walk-up on the lower east side, okay? What's next? A fucking chairmaster? "I sit down. I get up. I sit down. I get up. I sit down. I get up." The doormaster. "I open the door. I close..."
What the fuck?