Welcome to New York Page #3

---

By my parents, my teachers...

My teachers, my superiors at work...

I'm lucky, I'm not a Christian.

But I'd like to say this:

When I die,

I will kiss God's ass forever.

I found my God...

You.

My first God?

I didn't find it in a church,

but in a classroom.

It was idealism.

What a magnificent God!

To believe everything would be OK.

I was in the temple that is university.

First as a student,

then as a professor.

And I allowed myself

to be wrapped in that hallowed light.

Injustice?

We had righted all the wrongs.

World hunger?

Everyone would eat until they were full.

Poverty?

A distant memory whose existence

would be difficult even to imagine.

Wealth would be spread around.

To each according to his needs.

That's right.

It was only when I arrived

at the World Bank

that the enormity

of the world's pathos,

the infinite suffering

inherent in human nature,

revealed itself in all

its horrible manifestations.

Slowly.

One day at a time.

No.

One minute at a time.

I understood the futility of struggling

against this insurmountable tsunami

of troubles that we face.

Things will not change.

The hungry will die.

The sick?

They too will die.

Poverty,

It's good business.

Wise men are comforted

by their limitations.

I'm overwhelmed by this revelation.

No.

I can't return to that blissful youth.

No redemption for me.

What did the doctor say?

He said it was all my mother's fault.

Are you serious?

He said he was having lunch

with his mother,

and instead of asking her

to pass the butter, he told her

"You f***ing b*tch, you ruined my life. "

Another pedantic, narrow-minded

and shortsighted sophist,

whose only goal is to convince me

to join the rest of herd.

I won't fall in line.

It pisses me off

that one more time

I couldn't say no to you.

Do you know what you've done,

over these years,

little by little, bit by bit?

You've succeeded

in making me hate myself.

You see?

You've succeeded.

Damn it! Will you stop?

Oh! I had forgotten your plans.

Your plans of becoming president.

Your plans for me to become

President of the Republic.

That, I had forgotten about.

It pisses you off

that I didn't end up in prison.

No, it doesn't piss me off!

To spend a little time

thinking about others.

About yourself and what you've done.

I think somehow

it would be good for you.

A bit like military service,

which doesn't exist anymore.

Sometimes it's good for a man.

A little... a little...

Discipline, damn it!

- I have discipline!

- You don't have discipline.

It doesn't matter, you know my flaws.

That's enough!

I know.

That's enough... I'm fed up.

You're such a child!

You're like a little child.

I'm such a martyr!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes