WAMPOHOLIC

At 8:46 a.m. on the morning of September 11, 2001, American Airlines Flight 11 struck World Trade Center Tower 1. Rescorla heard the explosion and saw the Tower burning from his office window. When a Port Authority announcement came over the P.A. system urging people to stay at their desks, Rescorla ignored the announcement, grabbed his bullhorn, walk-talkie and cell phone, and began systematically ordering Morgan Stanley employees evacuate, including the 1,000 employees in WTC 5. He directed people down a stairwell from the 44th floor, continuing to calm employees after the building lurched violently following the crash of the second plane 38 floors above. Morgan Stanley executive Bill McMahon stated that even a group of 250 people visiting the offices for a stockbroker training class knew what to do because they had been shown the nearest hallway. Having calmed his men in Vietnam by singing Cornish songs from his youth, Rescorla did the same in the stairwell, singing, “Men of Cornwall stand ye steady. It cannot be ever said ye for the battle were not ready. Stand and never yield!” Between songs, Rescorla called his wife, telling her, “Stop crying. I have to get these people out safely. If something should happen to me, I want you to know I’ve never been happier. You made my life.” After successfully evacuating the majority of Morgan Stanley’s 2,687 employees, he went back inside the building. When one of his colleagues told him he too had to evacuate the World Trade Center, Rescorla replied, “As soon as I make sure everyone else is out”. He was last seen on the 10th floor, heading upward, shortly before the tower collapsed. His remains were never found.

It’s one of those scenarios you feel will never happen to you. Nobody thinks they’re going to be the one, whatever, to get in a car wreck to have their, you know, their kids killed in a plane crash, whatever, you don’t think those things are going to happen to you. And I didn’t think that I’d be traded. So.

I quit doing drugs. I used to take drugs and I quit. But I’ll tell you something honestly about drugs, and I don’t think this is said enough anymore- I mean, it’s the truth: I had a great time doing drugs. Hahahahaha! Sorry. Never murdered anybody, never robbed anybody, never raped anybody, never beat anybody, never lost a job, a car, a house, a wife, or kids, laughed my ass off, and went about my day. Sorry.
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I have never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Never heard one reason that rang true why marijuana is against the law. Marijuana grows all over the world, serves a thousand different functions, ALL of them positive. To make marijuana against the law is like saying God made a mistake. You know what I mean? It’s like God on the seventh day looked down on his creation, and he said, ‘There it is, my creation. Perfect and holy in all ways. Now I can rest… Oh my Me! I left fucking pot everywhere. I should never have smoked that joint on the third day, shit. Boy, if I leave pot everywhere, it’s gonna give people the impression they’re supposed to use it. Shit! Now I have to create Republicans.’
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I am not promoting the use of drugs, I’m just saying if you’re gonna have a war against drugs, have ‘em against all drugs including alcohol, the number one offender, or shut the fuck up. And oh, by the way, my simple pleasurable advice would be: shut the fuck up. Ha ha ha ha ha. Just shut up. Your ways are tired, your point of view is meaningless, and you live hollow fucking lives.

I don’t smoke pot, and I’m glad because then I can champion it without special pleading. The reason I don’t smoke it is because it facilitates ideas and heightens sensations—and I’ve got enough shit flying through my head without smoking pot.
At this time, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the State will present its closing argument in the case against marijuana: It leads to the use of heroin and other dangerous, addictive drugs.
If this syllogism holds true, the bust-out junkie will say to his cellmate: ‘I am a heroin addict. I started smoking marijuana and then naturally I graduated to heroin. By the way, my cellmate, what happened to you? How did you come to murder three guys in a crap game? You’ve got blood on your hands. How did you first get obsessed with this terrible disease of gambling? Where did it all start?’
‘Oh, I started gambling with Bingo in the Catholic Church.’

If one has occasion as a doctor to make the acquaintance of one of those people who, though not remarkable in other ways, are well known in their circle as jokers and the originators of many viable jokes, one may be surprised to discover that the joker is a disunited personality, disposed to neurotic disorders.

Daniel: When you say you were there with a friend, was it your friend Brian?

Aziz: Oh — no. Brian’s a fake name. For some reason in my stand-up, I always go to Brian. It’s weird. There’s a weird thing in stand-up when you go to certain sounds. They just sound funnier. Like “k” sounds, you know. Like there’s this Chris Rock joke, where he says the only two black guys in Minnesota are Prince and Kirby Puckett. And I was like, “Shit, Kirby Puckett — that’s the funniest name ever!” But for some reason, Brian’s just a funny sounding name to me.