25th Hour Quote
[Monty standing in the men's bathroom, talking to himself in a mirror with a **** YOU written on it]
Monty Brogan: Well, **** you, too. **** me, **** you, **** this whole city and everyone in it. **** the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. **** the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a ****ing job! **** the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in ****ing training. SLOW THE **** DOWN! **** the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. **** the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? **** the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you ****ing came from! **** the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! **** the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother ****ers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for ****ING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that ****? Give me a ****ing break! Tyco! Worldcom! **** the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst ****in' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. **** the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. **
Monty Brogan: Well, **** you, too. **** me, **** you, **** this whole city and everyone in it. **** the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. **** the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a ****ing job! **** the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in ****ing training. SLOW THE **** DOWN! **** the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. **** the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? **** the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you ****ing came from! **** the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! **** the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother ****ers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for ****ING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that ****? Give me a ****ing break! Tyco! Worldcom! **** the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst ****in' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. **** the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. **
Movie: 25th Hour
