Thursday, 31 October 2019

The Living are Not Done with You Yet


But God Hasn’t Finished with Me Yet.....
2Pac



Q : What Do You Get When You Cross a Mentally Ill Loner with a Society That Abandons Him and Treats Him Like Trash?

A : EXACTLY What You Deserve.











THE HUMANITARIAN THEORY OF PUNISHMENT (1949) by C.S. Lewis

In England we have lately had a controversy about Capital Punishment. I do not know whether a murderer is more likely to repent and make a good end on the gallows a few weeks after his trial or in the prison infirmary thirty years later. I do not know whether the fear of death is an indispensable deterrent. I need not, for the purpose of this article, decide whether it is a morally permissible deterrent. Those are questions which I propose to leave untouched. 

My subject is not Capital Punishment in particular, but that theory of punishment in general which the controversy showed to be almost universal among my fellow-countrymen. It may be called the Humanitarian theory. 

Those who hold it think that it is mild and merciful. In this I believe that they are seriously mistaken. 

I believe that the ‘Humanity’ which it claims is a dangerous illusion and disguises the possibility of cruelty and injustice without end. 

I urge a return to the traditional or Retributive theory not solely, not even primarily, in the interests of society, but in the interests of the criminal. 

According to the Humanitarian theory, to punish a man because he deserves it, and as much as he deserves, is mere revenge, and, therefore, barbarous and immoral

It is maintained that the only legitimate motives for punishing are the desire to deter others by example or to mend the criminal. When this theory is combined, as frequently happens, with the belief that all crime is more or less pathological, the idea of mending tails off into that of healing or curing and punishment becomes therapeutic. 

Thus it appears at first sight that we have passed from the harsh and self-righteous notion of giving the wicked their deserts to the charitable and enlightened one of tending the psychologically sick. What could be more amiable? 

One little point which is taken for granted in this theory needs, however, to be made explicit. The things done to the criminal, even if they are called cures, will be just as compulsory as they were in the old days when we called them punishments. If a tendency to steal can be cured by psychotherapy, the thief will no doubt be forced to undergo the treatment. Otherwise, society cannot continue. 

My contention is that this doctrine, merciful though it appears, really means that each one of us, from the moment he breaks the law, is deprived of the rights of a human being. 

The reason is this. The Humanitarian theory removes from Punishment the concept of Desert. 

But the concept of Desert is the only connecting link between punishment and justice. 

It is only as deserved or undeserved that a sentence can be just or unjust. 

I do not here contend that the question ‘Is it deserved?’ is the only one we can reasonably ask about a punishment. 

We may very properly ask whether it is likely to deter others and to reform the criminal. 

But neither of these two last questions is a question about justice. 

There is no sense in talking about a ‘just deterrent’ or a ‘just cure’. 

We demand of a deterrent not whether it is just but whether it will deter. 
We demand of a cure not whether it is just but whether it succeeds. 

Thus when we cease to consider what the criminal deserves and consider only what will cure him or deter others, we have tacitly removed him from the sphere of justice altogether; instead of a person, a subject of rights, we now have a mere object, a patient, a ‘case’. 

The distinction will become clearer if we ask who will be qualified to determine sentences when sentences are no longer held to derive their propriety from the criminal’s deservings. On the old view the problem of fixing the right sentence was a moral problem. Accordingly, the judge who did it was a person trained in jurisprudence; trained, that is, in a science which deals with rights and duties, and which, in origin at least, was consciously accepting guidance from the Law of Nature, and from Scripture. We must admit that in the actual penal code of most countries at most times these high originals were so much modified by local custom, class interests, and utilitarian concessions, as to be very imperfectly recognizable. But the code was never in principle, and not always in fact, beyond the control of the conscience of the society. And when (say, in eighteenth-century England) actual punishments conflicted too violently with the moral sense of the community, juries refused to convict and reform was finally brought about. This was possible because, so long as we are thinking in terms of Desert, the propriety of the penal code, being a moral question, is a question on which every man has the right to an opinion, not because he follows this or that profession, but because he is simply a man, a rational animal enjoying the Natural Light. But all this is changed when we drop the concept of Desert. The only two questions we may now ask about a punishment are whether it deters and whether it cures. But these are not questions on which anyone is entitled to have an opinion simply because he is a man. He is not entitled to an opinion even if, in addition to being a man, he should happen also to be a jurist, a Christian, and a moral theologian. For they are not questions about principle but about matter of fact; and for such cuiquam in sua arte credendum. 1 Only the expert ‘penologist’ (let barbarous things have barbarous names), in the light of previous experiment, can tell us what is likely to deter: only the psychotherapist can tell us what is likely to cure. It will be in vain for the rest of us, speaking simply as men, to say, ‘but this punishment is hideously unjust, hideously disproportionate to the criminal’s deserts’. 

The experts with perfect logic will reply, ‘But nobody was talking about deserts. No one was talking about punishment in your archaic vindictive sense of the word. Here are the statistics proving that this treatment deters. Here are the statistics proving that this other treatment cures. What is your trouble?’ 

The Humanitarian theory, then, removes sentences from the hands of jurists whom the public conscience is entitled to criticize and places them in the hands of technical experts whose special sciences do not even employ such categories as rights or justice. It might be argued that since this transference results from an abandonment of the old idea of punishment, and, therefore, of all vindictive motives, it will be safe to leave our criminals in such hands. I will not pause to comment on the simple-minded view of fallen human nature which such a belief implies. Let us rather remember that the ‘cure’ of criminals is to be compulsory; and let us then watch how the theory actually works in the mind of the Humanitarian. 

The immediate starting point of this article was a letter I read in one of our Leftist weeklies. The author was pleading that a certain sin, now treated by our laws as a crime, should henceforward be treated as a disease. And he complained that under the present system the offender, after a term in jail, was simply let out to return to his original environment where he would probably relapse. 

What he complained of was not the shutting up but the letting out. On his remedial view of punishment the offender should, of course, be detained until he was cured. And of course the official straighteners are the only people who can say when that is. 

The first result of the Humanitarian theory is, therefore, to substitute for a definite sentence (reflecting to some extent the community’s moral judgement on the degree of ill-desert involved) an indefinite sentence terminable only by the word of those experts–and they are not experts in moral theology nor even in the Law of Nature–who inflict it. Which of us, if he stood in the dock, would not prefer to be tried by the old system? 

It may be said that by the continued use of the word punishment and the use of the verb ‘inflict’ I am misrepresenting Humanitarians. They are not punishing, not inflicting, only healing. 

But do not let us be deceived by a name. To be taken without consent from my home and friends; to lose my liberty; to undergo all those assaults on my personality which modern psychotherapy knows how to deliver; to be remade after some pattern of ‘normality’ hatched in a Viennese laboratory to which I never professed allegiance; to know that this process will never end until either my captors have succeeded or I have grown wise enough to cheat them with apparent success–who cares whether this is called Punishment or not? 

That it includes most of the elements for which any punishment is feared – shame, exile, bondage, and years eaten by the locust–is obvious. Only enormous ill-desert could justify it; but ill-desert is the very conception which the Humanitarian theory has thrown overboard. 

If we turn from the curative to the deterrent justification of punishment we shall find the new theory even more alarming. When you punish a man in terrorem, 2 make of him an ‘example’ to others, you are admittedly using him as a means to an end; someone else’s end. 

This, in itself, would be a very wicked thing to do. 

On the classical theory of Punishment it was of course justified on the ground that the man deserved it. That was assumed to be established before any question of ‘making him an example’ arose. You then, as the saying is, killed two birds with one stone; in the process of giving him what he deserved you set an example to others. 

But take away desert and the whole morality of the punishment disappears. Why, in Heaven’s name, am I to be sacrificed to the good of society in this way? – unless, of course, I deserve it. 

But that is not the worst. If the justification of exemplary punishment is not to be based on desert but solely on its efficacy as a deterrent, it is not absolutely necessary that the man we punish should even have committed the crime. The deterrent effect demands that the public should draw the moral, ‘If we do such an act we shall suffer like that man.’ 

The punishment of a man actually guilty whom the public think innocent will not have the desired effect; the punishment of a man actually innocent will, provided the public think him guilty. 

But every modern State has powers which make it easy to fake a trail. When a victim is urgently needed for exemplary purposes and a guilty victim cannot be found, all the purposes of deterrence will be equally served by the punishment (call it ‘cure’ if you prefer) of an innocent victim, provided that the public can be cheated into thinking him guilty. 

It is no use to ask me why I assume that our rulers will be so wicked. The punishment of an innocent, that is, an undeserving, man is wicked only if we grant the traditional view that righteous punishment means deserved punishment. Once we have abandoned that criterion, all punishments have to be justified, if at all, on other grounds that have nothing to do with desert. Where the punishment of the innocent can be justified on those grounds (and it could in some cases be justified as a deterrent) it will be no less moral than any other punishment. 

Any distaste for it on the part of a Humanitarian will be merely a hang-over from the Retributive theory. 

It is, indeed, important to notice that my argument so far supposes no evil intentions on the part of the Humanitarian and considers only what is involved in the logic of his position. My contention is that good men (not bad men) consistently acting upon that position would act as cruelly and unjustly as the greatest tyrants. They might in some respects act even worse. Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell on earth. Their very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be ‘cured’ against one’s will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level with those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals. But to be punished, however severely, because we have deserved it, because we ‘ought to have known better’, is to be treated as a human person made in God’s image. 

In reality, however, we must face the possibility of bad rulers armed with a Humanitarian theory of punishment. A great many popular blue-prints for a Christian society are merely what the Elizabethans called ‘eggs in moonshine’ because they assume that the whole society is Christian or that the Christians are in control. This is not so in most contemporary States. Even if it were, our rulers would still be fallen men, and, therefore, neither very wise nor very good. As it is, they will usually be unbelievers. And since wisdom and virtue are not the only or the commonest qualifications for a place in the government, they will not often be even the best unbelievers. The practical problem of Christian politics is not that of drawing up schemes for a Christian society, but that of living as innocently as we can with unbelieving fellow-subjects under unbelieving rulers who will never be perfectly wise and good and who will sometimes be very wicked and very foolish. And when they are wicked the Humanitarian theory of punishment will put in their hands a finer instrument of tyranny than wickedness ever had before. For if crime and disease are to be regarded as the same thing, it follows that any state of mind which our masters choose to call ‘disease’ can be treated as crime; and compulsorily cured. It will be vain to plead that states of mind which displease government need not always involve moral turpitude and do not therefore always deserve forfeiture of liberty. For our masters will not be using the concepts of Desert and Punishment but those of disease and cure. We know that one school of psychology already regards religion as a neurosis. When this particular neurosis becomes inconvenient to government, what is to hinder government from proceeding to ‘cure’ it? Such ‘cure’ will, of course, be compulsory; but under the Humanitarian theory it will not be called by the shocking name of Persecution. No one will blame us for being Christian, no one will hate us, no one will revile us. The new Nero will approach us with the silky manners of a doctor, and though all will be in fact as compulsory as the tunica molesta of Smithfield or Tyburn, all will go on within the unemotional therapeutic sphere where words like ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ or ‘freedom’ and ‘slavery’ are never heard. And thus when the command is given, every prominent Christian in the land may vanish overnight into Institutions for the Treatment of the Ideologically Unsound, and it will rest with the expert jailers to say when (if ever) they are to re-emerge. But it will not be persecution. Even if the treatment is painful, even if it is life-long, even if it is fatal, that will be only a regrettable accident; the intention was purely therapeutic. Even in ordinary medicine there were painful operations and fatal operations: so in this. But because they are ‘treatment’, not punishment, they can be criticized only by fellow-experts and on technical grounds, never by men as men and on grounds of justice. 

This is why I think it essential to oppose the Humanitarian theory of punishment, root and branch, wherever we encounter it. It carries on its front a semblance of mercy which is wholly false. That is how it can deceive men of good will. The error began, perhaps, with Shelley’s statement that the distinction between mercy and justice was invented in the courts of tyrants. It sounds noble, and was indeed the error of a noble mind. But the distinction is essential. The older view was that mercy ‘tempered’ justice, or (on the highest level of all) that mercy and justice had met and kissed. The essential act of mercy was to pardon; and pardon in its very essence involves the recognition of guilt and ill-desert in the recipient. If crime is only a disease which needs cure, not sin which deserves punishment, it cannot be pardoned. How can you pardon a man for having a gumboil or a club foot? But the Humanitarian theory wants simply to abolish Justice and substitute Mercy for it. This means that you start being ‘kind’ to people before you have considered their rights, and then force upon them supposed kindnesses which no one but you will recognize as kindnesses and which the recipient will feel as abominable cruelties. You have overshot the mark. Mercy, detached from Justice, grows unmerciful. That is the important paradox. As there are plants which will flourish only in mountain soil, so it appears that Mercy will flower only when it grows in the crannies of the rock of Justice: transplanted to the Marshlands of mere Humanitarianism, it becomes a man-eating weed, all the more dangerous because it is still called by the same name as the mountain variety. But we ought long ago to have learned our lesson. We should be too old now to be deceived by those humane pretensions which have served to usher in every cruelty of the revolutionary period in which we live. These are the ‘precious balms’ which will ‘break our heads’ (Psalm 141: 5). There is a fine sentence in Bunyan: ‘It came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his House, he would sell me for a Slave.’ 3 

There is a fine couplet, too, in John Ball: 

Be war or ye be wo; 
Knoweth your freed from your foo.

PART II 
On Punishment: A Reply by C. S. Lewis (1954) 

I have to thank the Editor for this opportunity of replying to two most interesting critiques of my article on the Humanitarian Theory of Punishment, one by Professor J. J. C. Smart 5 and the other by Drs N. Morris and D. Buckle. 6 

Professor Smart makes a distinction between questions of the First and of the Second Order. ‘First’ are questions like ‘Ought I to return this book?’; ‘Second’, like ‘Is promise-making a good institution?’ He claims that these two Orders of question require different methods of treatment. The first can be answered by Intuition (in the sense which moral philosophers sometimes give that word). We ‘see’ what is ‘right’ at once, because the proposed action falls under a rule. But second-order questions can be answered only on ‘utilitarian’ principles. Since ‘right’ means ‘agreeable to the rules’ it is senseless to ask if the rules themselves are ‘right’; we can only ask if they are useful. A parallel would be this: granted a fixed spelling we may ask whether a word is spelled correctly, but cannot ask whether the spelling system is correct, only if it is consistent or convenient. Or again, a form may be grammatically right, but the grammar of a whole language cannot be right or wrong. 

Professor Smart is here, of course, treating in a new way a very ancient distinction. It was realized by all the thinkers of the past that you could consider either (a) Whether an act was ‘just’ in the sense of conforming to a law or custom, or (b) Whether a law or custom was itself ‘just’. To the ancient and mediaevals, however, the distinction was one between (a) Justice by law or convention, nomo (i) and (b) Justice ‘simply’ or ‘by nature’, haplôs or physei, or between (a) Positive Law, and (b) Natural Law. Both inquiries were about justice, but the distinction between them was acknowledged. The novelty of Professor Smart’s system consists in confining the concept of justice to the first-order questions. 

It is claimed that the new system (I) avoids a petitio inherent in any appeal to the Law of Nature or the ‘simply’ just; for ‘to say that this is the Law of Nature is only to say that this is the rule we should adopt’; and (2) gets rid of dogmatic subjectivism. For the idea of desert in my article may be only ‘Lewis’s personal preference’. 

I am not convinced, however, that Professor Smart’s system does avoid these inconveniences. 

Those rules are to be accepted which are useful to the community, utility being (I think) what will make that community ‘happier’. 7 Does this mean that the happiness of the community is to be pursued at all costs, or only to be pursued in so far as this pursuit is compatible with certain degrees of mercy, human dignity and veracity? (I must not add ‘of justice’ because, in Professor Smart’s view, the rules themselves cannot be either just or unjust.) If we take the second alternative, if we admit that there are some things, or even any one thing, which a community ought not to do however much it will increase its happiness, then we have really given up the position. We are now judging the useful by some other standard (whether we call it Conscience, or Practical Reason, or Law of Nature or Personal Preference). Suppose then, we take the first alternative: the happiness of the community is to be pursued at all costs. In certain circumstances the costs may be very heavy. In war, in some not improbable future when the world’s food runs short, during some threat of revolution, very shocking things may be likely to make the community happier or to preserve its existence. We cannot be sure that frame-ups, witch-hunts, even cannibalism, would never be in this sense ‘useful’. Let us suppose (what, I am very sure, is false) that Professor Smart is prepared to go the whole hog. It then remains to ask him why he does so or why he thinks we should agree with him. He of all men cannot reply that salus populi suprema lex8 is the Law of Nature; firstly, because we others know that ‘the people should be preserved’ is not the Law of Nature but only one clause in that Law. What then could pursuit of the community’s happiness at all costs be based on if not on Professor Smart’s ‘personal preference’? The real difference between him and me would then be simply that we have different desires. Or, rather, that I have one more desire than he. For, like him, I desire the continuance and happiness of my country (and species), 9 but then I also desire that they should be people of a certain sort, behaving in a certain way. The second desire is the stronger of the two. If I cannot have both, I had rather that the human race, having a certain quality in their lives, should continue for only a few centuries than that, losing freedom, friendship, dignity and mercy, and learning to be quite content without them, they should continue for millions of millennia. If it is merely a matter of wishes, there is really no further question for discussion. Lots of people feel like me, and lots feel the other way. I believe that it is in our age being decided which kind of men will win. 

And that is why, if I may say so without discourtesy, Professor Smart and I both matter so little compared with Drs Morris and Buckle. We are only dons; they are criminologists, a lawyer and a psychiatrist respectively. And the only thing which leads me so far off my own beat as to write about ‘Penology’ at all is my intense anxiety as to which side in this immensely important conflict will have the Law for its ally. This leads me to the only serious disagreements between my two critics and myself. 

Other disagreements there are, but they mainly turn on misunderstandings for which I am probably to blame. Thus: 

(1) There was certainly too little, if there was anything, in my article about the protection of the community. I am afraid I took it for granted. But the distinction in my mind would not be, as my critics suppose [Morris and Buckle, p. 232], one between ‘subsidiary’ and ‘vital’ elements in punishment. I call the act of taking a packet of cigarettes off a counter and slipping it into one’s pocket ‘purchase’ or ‘theft’ according as one does or does not pay for it. This does not mean that I consider the taking away of the goods as ‘subsidiary’ in an act of purchase. It means that what legitimizes it, what makes it purchase at all, is the paying. I call the sexual act chaste or unchaste according as the parties are or are not married to one another. This does not mean that I consider it as ‘subsidiary’ to marriage, but that what legitimizes it, what makes it a specimen of conjugal behaviour at all, is marriage. In the same way, I am ready to make both the protection of society and the ‘cure’ of the criminal as important as you please in punishment, but only on a certain condition; namely, that the initial act of thus interfering with a man’s liberty be justified on grounds of desert. Like payment in purchase, or marriage as regards the sexual act, it is this, and (I believe) this alone, which legitimizes our proceeding and makes it an instance of punishment at all, instead of an instance of tyranny–or, perhaps, of war. 

(2) I agree about criminal children [see Morris and Buckle, p. 234]. There has been progress in this matter. Very primitive societies will ‘try’ and ‘punish’ an axe or a spear in cases of unintentional homicide. Somewhere (I think, in the Empire) during the later Middle Ages a pig was solemnly tried for murder. Till quite recently, we may (I don’t know) have tried children as if they had adult responsibility. These things have rightly been abolished. 

But the whole question is whether you want the process to be carried further: whether you want us all to be simultaneously deprived of the protection and released from the responsibilities of adult citizenship and reduced to the level of the child, the pig and the axe. I don’t want this because I don’t think there are in fact any people who stand to the rest of us as adult to child, man to beast or animate to inanimate. 10 I think the laws which laid down a ‘desertless’ theory of punishment would in reality be made and administered by people just like the rest of us. 

But the real disagreement is this. Drs Morris and Buckle, fully alive to dangers of the sort I dread and reprobating them no less than I, believe that we have a safeguard. It lies in the Courts, in their incorruptible judges, their excellent techniques and ‘the controls of natural justice which the law has built up’ [p. 233]. Yes; if the whole tradition of natural justice which the law has for so long incorporated, will survive the completion of that change in our attitude to punishment which we are now discussing. But that for me is precisely the question. Our Courts, I agree, ‘have traditionally represented the common man and the common man’s view of morality’ [p. 233]. It is true that we must extend the term ‘common man’ to cover Locke, Grotius, Hooker, Poynet, Aquinas, Justinian, the Stoics and Aristotle, but I have no objection to that; in one most important, and to me glorious, sense they were all common men. 11 But that whole tradition is tied up with ideas of free will, responsibility, rights and the law of nature. Can it survive in Courts whose penal practice daily subordinates ‘desert’ to therapy and the protection of society? Can the Law assume one philosophy in practice and continue to enjoy the safeguards of a different philosophy? 


I write as the son of one lawyer and the life-long friend of another, to two criminologists one of whom is a lawyer. I believe an approximation between their view and mine is not to be despaired of, for we have the same ends at heart. I wish society to be protected and I should be very glad if all punishments were also cures. All I plead for is the prior condition of ill-desert; loss of liberty justified on retributive grounds before we begin considering the other factors. After that, as you please. Till that, there is really no question of ‘punishment’. We are not such poltroons that we want to be protected unconditionally, though when a man has deserved punishment we shall very properly look to our protection in devising it. We are not such busybodies that we want to improve all our neighbours by force; but when one of our neighbours has justly forfeited his right not to be interfered with, we shall charitably try to make his punishment improve him. But we will not presume to teach him (who, after all, are we?) till he has merited that we should ‘larn him’. Will Dr Morris and Dr Buckle come so far to meet me as that? On their decision and on that of others in similar important offices, depends, I believe, the continued dignity and beneficence of that great discipline the Law, but also much more. For, if I am not deceived, we are all at this moment helping to decide whether humanity shall retain all that has hitherto made humanity worth preserving, or whether we must slide down into the sub-humanity imagined by Mr Aldous Huxley and George Orwell and partially realized in Hitler’s Germany. For the extermination of the Jews really would have been ‘useful’ if the racial theories had been correct; there is no foretelling what may come to seem, or even to be, ‘useful’, and ‘necessity’ was always ‘the tyrant’s plea’.

Wednesday, 30 October 2019

Banish with Laughter





















It Has Often Been Said That All Comedy is Rooted in Fear –





–  The Things That Make Us Laugh are VERY Closely to The Things Frighten Us


Liar’s Poker — Clowns to The Left of Me, Jokers to The Right


We're just gonna sit here and bleed... 'til Joe Cabot sticks his fuckin' head through that door. 




ORANGE :
Say hello to a motherfucker who's inside. 
Cabot's doing a job.
He wants me on the team. 

This better not be a joke. 

ORANGE :
This ain't a joke.


I'm in. I'm up his ass. 
Nice Guy Eddie tells me Joe wants to meet me.  
He says I should just wait for a phone call. 
After waiting three days he calls me last night and says Joe's ready.
He'll pick me up in 10 minutes.


Who picked you up? 

ORANGE :
Nice Guy. We get to a bar.


What bar? 

ORANGE :
Smokey Pete's in Gardena. 
We get there... and I meet Joe and a guy named Mr. White. Phony name.
My name's Mr. Orange.


Mr. Orange?

ORANGE :
Mr. Orange. 


Okay, Mr. Orange.
You ever see this motherfucker before?

ORANGE :
Who? Mr. White? 


Yes. Mr. White. 

ORANGE :
No. He ain't one of Cabot's men either.
He's gotta be from out of town.
Joe knows him good.


How can you tell? 

ORANGE :
The way they talk.
You can tell they're buddies.

You two talk?

ORANGE :
Me and Joe? 

Mr. White.

ORANGE :
A little.

About what? 

ORANGE :
The Brewers. 

Milwaukee Brewers? 

ORANGE :
They won the night before.
He made some money off them. 


Good. If this crook's a Brewers fan, he's gotta be from Wisconsin. 
And I'll bet you everything... they got a sheet in Milwaukee on this Mr. White's ass. 
So I want you to go through everybody in Milwaukee with a history of armed robbery and put a name to the face.
Nice work, Freddy.

ORANGE :
Thank you, my man.


How was Long Beach Mike's referral?

ORANGE :
Perfect. His backing me up went a long way.
I told them I played poker with him. 
Nice Guy checked it out and said it was A-okay. Said I was a good Thief,
I didn't rattle... and that I was ready to move. 
He's a good guy.
I wouldn't be inside without him. 

No, no — Long Beach Mike is not your friend. 
Long Beach Mike is a fucking scumbag. 
He's selling out his amigos. 
That's how nice he fuckin' is. 
I'll take care of his ass... but you get that scumbag out of mind and take care of business. 

ORANGE :
Gone. 

Use The Commode Story.


ORANGE :
What's The Commode Story?




It's a scene. 
Memorise it. 

ORANGE :
A what?




An undercover cop's gotta be Marlon Brando. 
To do this job you gotta be a great actor, naturalistic. 
You gotta be naturalistic as hell. 
If you're a bad actor, that's bullshit in this job. 

ORANGE :
What is this? 

That's an amusing anecdote about a drug deal —
Something funny that happened to you while you were doing a job. 

ORANGE :
I gotta memorise all this?
There's four pages of this shit. 




Think about it like it's a joke. 
Memorise what's important.
The rest you make your own. 
You can tell a joke, can't you? 
Well, pretend you're Don Rickles... and tell a joke, all right? 
The things you gotta remember are the details. 
The details sell your story. 

This particular story takes place in a men's room. 
You gotta know all the details-- 

Whether they got paper towels or a blower to dry your hands. 
You gotta know if the stalls ain't got no doors or not. 
You gotta know if they got liquid soap or that pink, granulated shit... they used in high school. 
You gotta know if they got hot water or not, if it stinks... 
if some nasty, lowlife, scum-ridden motherfucker... sprayed diarrhea all over one of the bowls. 

You gotta know every detail there is to know about this commode. 

What you gotta do is take all them details and make 'em your own. 

While you're doing that, remember that this story is about you... 
and how you perceived the events that went down. 

The only way to do that... is keep sayin' it... and sayin' it and sayin' it. 

ORANGE :
This is during the L.A. marijuana drought, 
I still had a connection, which was insane 'cause... you couldn't get any weed anywhere then. 
Anyway, I had a connection with this hippie chick in Santa Cruz... and all my friends knew it. 

They call me and say,
"Hey, Freddy--" 

*FAILED*

They say, 
"Hey, dude — You gettin' some? 
Can you get some for me too?" 

They knew I still smoked, so they asked me to buy some for them. 
It got to be-- Every time I bought some weed I was buyin' for four or five people.

 Finally I said, fuck this shit.
I'm makin' this bitch rich. She didn't even have to meet these people. 
I was doing all the work. 

That got to be a pain in the ass, people calling all the time. 
I couldn't even rent a tape without six fuckin' interruptions. 

"When's the next time you're gettin' some?" 

"Motherfucker!I'm tryin' to watch The Lost Boys!
When I get some, I'll call you." 

Then these rink-a-dink potheads come by. 

They're my friends and everything, but still-- I got it laid out in -dollar bags, they don't want dollars worth. 

They want ten dollars' worth, and breaking it up wasn't easy. 
I don't even know what ten dollars' worth looks like. 

This was a very weird situation. Remember back in ' ... there was a major fuckin' drought. 
Nobody had anything. People were livin' on resin, smokin' the wood in their pipes. 

This chick had a bunch and she's beggin' me to sell it. 

So I told her I wasn't gonna be Joe the pot man anymore... but I would take a little bit
and sell it to my close friends. 

She agreed and we kept the same arrangement as before-- ten percent and free pot for me... if I helped her that weekend. 

She was sellin' a brick of weed and didn't wanna go to the buy alone. Her brother usually goes with her, but he's in County unexpectedly. 

What for? His traffic tickets gone to warrant. 
They stopped him, found warrants on him, took him to County. 

She doesn't wanna walk around alone with all that weed. 
I don't wanna do this.
I have a very bad feeling about it. 
She keeps asking me, asking me. 

Finally I said okay 'cause I'm sick of hearing it. 

So we go to the train station--


JOE CABOT :
Wait. You're goin' to the train station with the weed on ya? 

ORANGE :
Yeah, The guy needed it right away. 
Anyway, we get to the train station... and we're waitin' for the guy. 

I'm carryin' the weed in a carry-on bag. 
I gotta take a piss, so I tell her I'm goin' to the boy's room. 
So I walk into the men's room and who's standing there? 
Four Los Angeles County sheriffs and a German shepherd. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
They're waitin' for you?

ORANGE :
No, they're just four guys standing around in a Men's Room talkin'. 
And when I walked in, they all stopped talkin'... and they looked at me. 

JOE CABOT :
That's hard.
That's a fuckin' hard situation. 

ORANGE :
German shepherd starts barking. 
He's barkin' at me. I mean, it's obvious he's barkin' at me
Every nerve ending, all of my senses, the blood in the veins was screamin': 

"Take off, man. Just bail. Get the fuck outta there." 

Panic hits me like a bucket of water. Bam! 

Right in the face. I'm drenched in panic and these cops are lookin' at me and they know it. 

They can smell it,sure as that fuckin' dog can. They can smell it on me. 

"Shut up. So anyway,
I got my gun drawn. I point it at this guy
and I tell him... 

"Freeze.Don't fuckin' move." 

This little idiot's looking right at me and saying... 

"I know, I know." 

But meanwhile his right hand
is creepin' toward the glove box. I scream at him, 

"Asshole!
I'm gonna blow you away right now! 
Put your hands on the dash." 

He's still looking at me, nodding his head. "I know, buddy, I know." 

Meanwhile his hand is still
going for the glove box. And I said... 

"Buddy, I'm gonna shoot you
in the face... if you don't put your hands up." 

Then this guy's girlfriend, this real sexy Oriental bitch... she starts screaming at him:

"Chuck, what are you doin'? 
Listen to the officer!
Put your hands on the dash!" 

So then the guy snaps out of it and puts his hands on the dash. 

What was he goin' for? 

His fucking registration. 

You're kidding.


No, man! Stupid citizen doesn't know how closehe came to gettin' blown away. That close, man. 

JOE CABOT :
You knew how to handle that situation. 
You shit your pants, dive in and swim. 


Tell me more about Cabot. 

ORANGE :
I don't know. He's a cool guy. He's funny.
He's a funny guy. You remember the Fantastic Four? 

Yeah, with that invisible bitch... and "Flame on" and shit, right? 


ORANGE :
Thing. Motherfucker... looks just like the Thing. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
Hey! Showtime! Grab your jacket.
I'm parked outside. 

ORANGE :
I'll be right down. 


NICE GUY EDDIE :
He'll be right down. 

ORANGE :
Don't pussy out on me now. 
They don't know. 

They don't know shit. 
You're not gonna get hurt.

You're fuckin' Baretta. 
They believe every fuckin' word 'cause you're super cool. 

There goes our boy. 
The guy has to have rocks in his head the size of Gibraltar... to work undercover. 

You want one of these?
Yeah, give me the bear claw. 




BROWN :
 Fuck. Jesus. I'm blind, man.
I'm fuckin' blind. 

ORANGE  :
No, you just got blood in your eyes. 
Is he dead? Did he die or not? 
Let's go. 


ORANGE :
Hold it! Get out! 
Get out of the fuckin' car! 

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, Larry. I can't believe she killed me. 
Who'd have fucking thought that? 


WHITE :
Hey, just cancel that shit right now. You're hurt.
You're hurt real fuckin' bad. 
But you ain't dying. All this blood's scaring the shit out of me, Larry. 
I'm gonna die. I know it. 


What the fuck happened? 

ORANGE :
He slashed the cop's face, cut off his ear and was gonna burn him alive. 

What? I didn't hear you. 

I said... Blonde went crazy. 
He slashed the cop's face, cut off his ear and was gonna burn him alive. 


This cop? 
He went crazy?
Something like that? 
Worse or better? 

Eddie, he was pulling a burn, man. 
He was gonna kill the cop and me. 

When you guys walked in, he was gonna kill you and run with the diamonds. 

What'd I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone-cold psycho. 

You should've asked the cop, not just killed him. 

He talked about what he was gonna do when he was slicing him up. 


I don't buy it. Doesn't make sense. 

Makes perfect fuckin' sense to me. 
You didn't see how he acted during the job. 
We did. 

He's right.
The ear's hacked off. 

Let me just say this out loud, 'cause I wanna get this straight. 


You're saying that Mr. Blonde... was gonna kill you... 
and then when we got back he was gonna kill us... 
take the diamonds and scram. 
I'm right about that, right?
That's your story? 

ORANGE :
I swear on my mother's soul... that's what happened. 

The man you killed just got released from prison. 
He got caught at a company warehouse full of hot items. 
He could've fuckin' walked. 
All he had to do was say my dad's name, but he didn't; he kept his mouth shut. 
He did his fuckin' time like a man. 
He did four years for us. 
So, Mr. Orange... you're telling me that this good friend of mine... who did four years
for my father... who, in four years, never made a deal, no matter what they offered him... 
you're telling me 
that now that he's free... and we're making good on our commitment to him... 
he's just gonna decideout of the fucking blue... to rip us off? 
Why don't you tell me what really happened. 

JOE CABOT :
What the hell for? 
It'd just be more bullshit.



PINK :
What? Wait, wait.
You didn't tell him your name, did you?

WHITE :
I told him my first name and where I was from.

PINK :
Why?

WHITE :
I told him where I was from a few days ago.
It was just a natural conversation.


PINK :
What was tellin' him your name when you weren't supposed to?

WHITE :
He asked.
We had just gotten away from the cops.
He just got shot.
It was my fault he got shot.
He's a fuckin' bloody mess.
He's screamin'.
I swear to God, I thought he was
gonna die right then and there.
I'm tryin' to comfort him, telling him not to worry...
everything's going to be okay,
I'm gonna take care of him.
And he asked me what my name was.
I mean, the man was dyin' in my arms.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Tell him I'm sorry? 
I can't give out that fuckin' information?
It's against the rules?
I don't trust you enough?
Maybe I should've, but I couldn't.
Fuck you! Fuck Joe!




Sunday, 27 October 2019

The Argument from Ultimate Authority




Don’t Be Awful





Family (n.)
Every Time I Get Out, They Pull Me Back In



VITO CORLEONE 
(sitting behind his desk, petting a cat)
Why did you go to The Police? 
Why didn't you come to me first? 


BONASERA
What do you want of me? 
Tell me anything. 
But do what I beg you to do. 


VITO CORLEONE
What is that? 

[Bonasera gets up to whisper his request into Don Corleone's ear

That I cannot do. 


BONASERA
I'll give you anything you ask. 


VITO CORLEONE
We've known each other many years, but this is the first time you came to me for counsel, for help. 
I can't remember the last time that you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, 
even though my wife is godmother to your only child. 

But let's be frank here: you never wanted my friendship. 
And uh, you were afraid to be in my debt. 


BONASERA
I didn't want to get into trouble. 


VITO CORLEONE
I understand. You found paradise in America, had a good trade, made a good living. 
The Police protected you; and there were courts of law. 
And you didn't need a friend of me. 

But uh, now you come to me and you say -- 

"Don Corleone give me justice." 

-- But you don't ask with respect. 
You don't offer friendship. 
You don't even think to call me ‘Godfather’! 

Instead, you come into my house 
on the day my daughter is to be married, 
and you uh ask me to do murder, 
for money.


BONASERA
I ask you for Justice. 


VITO CORLEONE
That is Not Justice; 
Your daughter is still alive. 


BONASERA
Then they can suffer then, as she suffers.
(then)
How much shall I pay you? 


VITO CORLEONE 
(stands, turning his back toward Bonasera)
Bonasera... Bonasera... 
What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? 

Had you come to me in friendship, then this scum that ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. 


And that by chance if an honest man such as yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. 

And then they would fear you.


BONASERA
Be my friend --

(then, after bowing and the Don shrugs)

-- Godfather? 


VITO CORLEONE 
(after Bonasera kisses his hand)

Good.

(then)

Some day, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me. 

But uh, until that day -- 
accept this justice as a gift on my daughter's wedding day. 


BONASERA 
(as he leaves the room)
Grazie, Godfather. 


VITO CORLEONE
Prego.

(then, to Tom Hagen, after Bonasera leaves the room)

Ah, give this to ah, Clemenza. 
I want reliable people; people that aren't gonna be carried away. 

I'm mean, we're not murderers, despite of what this undertaker says. 


I Have Been BADLY Betrayed....




dickless (n.)
   A State of Being or Manner of Life characterised by a ready willingness to throw some other poor bastard (albeit possibly guilty, you just don't know) completely Under The proverbial Bus, in favour of sparing your own worthless hide.

c.f. "Don't Do it to Me, Do it to Julia! To JULIA!!"




History lesson for you, Vinnie.
I know you're not well-educated, so, uh- let me enlighten you —

The term "dildo" was first coined in around 1400 AD.
It originates from the Latin ‘dilatare’, which means 'open wide'.

The Dick, Vincent.

The Penis, The Slongker, The Cock, The Old Fella.... 

Has been revered and replicated since the start of humanity.

And now, you ...
and you...
are about to lose yours.



Boss Falcone :
Yeah, Dr. Crane, l can't take it anymore.
lt's all too much.
The walls are closing in.
Blah, blah, blah.
A couple of days of this food, it'll be true.

Dr. Crane :
What do you want?

Boss Falcone :
l wanna know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut.

Dr. Crane :
About what?
You don't know anything.

Boss Falcone :
l know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized.
And l know about your experiments
with the inmates of your nut house.
See, l don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets.
And those goons you used.
l own the muscle in this town.
Now, l've been bringing your stuff in for months, so whatever he's planning, it's big, and l want in.

Dr. Crane :
Well, l already know what he'll say.
That we should kill you.

Boss Falcone :
Even he can't get me in here.
Not in my town.









Vinnie :
Ay up, Si.
Do you want it after all? 


Vin, where did you get them antiques? 

You know the rules.
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
Si, listen, you know — 


Fuck The Rules.
I'm in deep shit here.
You just tell me where you nicked them antiques from.



I didn't nick —

Well, I did.
I nicked a car, and the antiques, they were in the boot.
What's going on? 


Just get down here.



Why? 


Just get down here now.
Don't tell anyone you're coming.


All right.


Si, what's going - Si? 
Black Skinhead Oi! 

Get up, you little fucker.
Get up! 

History lesson for you, Vinnie.
I know you're not well-educated, so, uh- let me enlighten you.
The term "dildo" was first coined in around 1400 AD.
It originates from the Latin ‘dilatare’, which means 'open wide'.

The Dick, Vincent.

The Penis, The Slongker, The Cock, The Old Fella.... has been revered and replicated since the start of humanity.
And now, you ...
and you...
are about to lose yours.


No.
Please.
It was in —

Shut it.
Where's my antique dildo? 


On a farm.
Which farm? 


Jim's farm.
I can get it back, though.


Who stole 'em? 

I don't know.


Who was driving the car you nicked? 

I don't know Oh, fuck! A young guy.
Fuck, I didn't really see him.
He might have had brown hair.



Told you, didn't I? In the hospital, do you remember? 
I said, "If our paths cross again." 
I know, but all this —

I didn't know it had your things in it, and I'll get 'em back! 
I'll fuck I'll get you whatever you want! 


Cut his dick off.

No, no, no! Give me an hour! 
Give me one hour! 
I know where it is.
This is just a mistake, this.



All right, you, trousers off.


What?! 


I could find out the owner of that car.
I fucking can I'll find out I'll get it back.
My friend's a mechanic.



Fucking trousers off! 


My friend's a mechanic —


Boxers.


Fuck 

Boxers.


Mr McCann No! Wait, wait! 
Just - Just  - Don't — 

All right, now, say bye-bye to it.


Why? Why? 

Say bye-bye.
Fuck - This is fucking madness, man.


Say it! 

Bye, bye, byebye.


Properly.


You can't do this.
Don't - Please don't cut my dick off in a pawn shop, man.
Don't - Don't - Fuck.


Vin! You will always remember the moment before you become dickless.

It's The End of One Life and The Start of Another.
Pre and post-dick.

I have been •BADLY• betrayed, and the only people with knowledge of my antiques are people that know my house, people who come and go, people with regular access.

I want to fucking know.
I •have• to fucking know.


I can find out.
I fucking can.
I can find out.
OK - You find out who took that dildo, you keep your dick.
You don't, it comes off.
Do we understand ourselves? 

Yeah.


Do we fucking understand each other?! 


Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yes.




SLATER :
You and young Rodney are going down for at least a year apiece! 
Unless you give me the name of the mush who nicked the microwave.

DEL BOY :
Oh, leave it out Slater.
You know I can't do that.
It's against my principles! 
My Mum'd turn in her grave if she knew I'd become a copper's nark! 

SLATER :
Well, you're gonna have a lot of time to think about your principles! 
I hope the porridge ain't too lumpy! 
I'll get the charge sheets typed up.

DEL BOY :
Now, just a minute - Roy.
Let's not be hasty! 
I think we can make a deal.

SLATER :
I don't like deals! 

DEL BOY :
You're gonna like this one! 
If I give you the name of the bloke that stole that oven, 
you let Rodney and Grandad go - no charges.

SLATER :
Yeah, alright.
I'll let them go.
And you'll also drop all charges against me! 

SLATER :
Oh come on Del, I'm looking forward to that! 

You don't seem to understand what I'm saying Slater! 
Once I give you the name, I'll be one of your grasses.

SLATER :
Oh Del, Del Boy, that is beautiful! 
You would be one of my Merry Men! 
I'd have you in my pocket, I could bounce you about and make you dance whenever I felt bored! 
And if you ever stepped out of line, I'd let it be known on the streets that you're an informer! 

DEL BOY :
Yeah! I know! 

SLATER :
The deal's on my old hoppo.
I'll drop the charges against you, you have My Word.

DEL BOY :
Your Word! 
Your Word means about as much as the guarantee on that hooky microwave! 
No, I want immunity from prosecution.
And I want it in writing and I want it signed, sealed and delivered.

SLATER :
I'll get it arranged right away Derek.
Oh, we're gonna have a good future together you and me, I can feel it.
What's up Del? Cursing the day you crossed me? 

DEL BOY :
No, I'm cursing the day I made them stop at your belly button! 

Why's he keeping Del Boy in there? 

That's about the 38th time you've asked me that in the last 'alf hour! 
And for the 38th time Grandad, I'm telling you, I don't know.


I thought he'd just charge Del with receiving, he'd get a fifty pound fine, and then it would all be forgot about! 

That's what I thought! 

So did I! So why's he keeping him in there? 

Gawd bless my old brown I don't bloody know Grandad.


Well, Rodney —


PC HOSKINS :
Look I thought I told you two you were free to go! 

Oh, we thought we'd hang on for a while.
Yeah, it's good here, innit?

SLATER :
Still here?

We're waiting for Del.

GRANDAD TROTTER :
Will he be long son? 


SLATER :
Only as long as it takes him to tell me who nicked the microwave.


Better get our heads down till the morning then! 

Oh, no, Del's seen the light.
He's decided to cooperate.


No, you're pulling our legs! 

SLATER :
D'you reckon? 
Why don't you come in and see for yourself.
Come on.
Alright Hoskins, away you go, canteen's open now.

PC Hoskins :
Oh, thank you very much, sir.

SLATER :
There you are, Del Boy, your immunity from prosecution, signed by the Superintendent himself.


What are you playing at, Del??!! 

DEL BOY :
What're they doing 'ere? 

SLATER :
Oh I thought it'd be interesting for them to see you in your real light.
The Great Del Boy, the man who could talk his way out of a room with no doors, reduced to this, grassing.

DEL BOY :
I've gotta tell him Rodney.
He's got me all ends up — I've got no choice.


But you don't know his name Del.
He was just a bloke in the market! 

DEL BOY :
Oh leave it out, Grandad.
If Mr Slater was to believe our descriptions he'd have his men searching for a someone who's a cross between Tom Thumb and the Jolly Green Giant! 

SLATER :
With a deaf-aid! 

DEL BOY :
With a deaf aid! 
Rodney, I wasn't doing it just for myself.
He threatened to plant something on you and set you up for a bit of bird.


But, but that's against the law! 

SLATER :
Well phone the Police! 

Don't tell him Del.

DEL BOY :
Look, I've got to Rodney.
Otherwise it'll mean you and me will go down the road and Grandad's gonna be left alone on the estate, see? 
I've got no choice, I've got no choice! 
Alright Mr. Slater let's get down to business.

SLATER :
Oh Del, Del Boy, those words are music to my ears.
I will cherish this moment! 
Righto Del, who nicked it? 

DEL BOY :
They are free to go ain't they? 

SLATER :
Yeah, they're free to go - no charges, they can leave whenever they like.
OK, give me his name.

DEL BOY :
You've got nothing on me either? 


SLATER :
No! You've got an immunity from prosecution.
You've got less chance of a pull than the Queen.

DEL BOY :
Long as I know.

SLATER :
Right, for the third and last time of asking, who nicked the microwave off the back of the lorry? 

[ Del signs the document guaranteeing his immunity from prosecution. ]

DEL BOY :
I did!