After the positive feedback on my experimental “Let’s Have A Sit Down #1“, I’ve drafted up another to fuel some popular consumption. This time, I’ve attempted to construct more of a topical conversation and again, using only dialogue spoken from characters that the actors have played. In this episode, we have two actors that have never shared the screen together. So without further ado, here is the legendary and iconic Jack Nicholson and Samuel L. Jackson sharing a beverage and discussing women, violence and religion.
(Warning: if you are sensitive of ear and easily offended then don’t read on as this conversation will contain some profanities, as well as, racial and sexual dialogue.)
Nicholson: God, I’d give anything for a drink. I’d give my god-damned soul for just a glass of beer.
Jackson: Mind if I have some of your tasty beverage…?
Jackson: Mmmmm. Goddamn… This is some serious gourmet shit…
Nicholson: Heineken? Why it’s the finest beer in the world! President Kennedy used to drink it.
Jackson: … the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast…
Nicholson: Here’s the first of the day…
[He starts flapping one arm like a chicken]
Neh, Neh, Neh! Fuh, Fuh, Fuh! Indians.
Jackson: oh man, I’ve seen some crazy ass shit in my time.
Nicholson: Is that crazy enough for ya? Want me to take a shit on the floor?
Jackson: Oh, man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.
Nicholson: Here’s something to remember when you’re older… – never pass up a bathroom, never waste a hard-on, and never trust a fart.
Jackson: Whoa! Y’all take a chill. You got to cool that shit off. And that’s the double truth, Ruth.
Nicholson: You can’t handle the truth.
Jackson: What the fuck happened to you, man? Shit, your ass used to be beautiful.
Nicholson: They was giving me ten thousand watts a day… and I’m hot to trot. The next woman takes me on’s gonna light up like a pinball machine and pay off in silver dollars.
Jackson: Hey, that’s Kool and the Gang.
Nicholson: Men are such cocksuckers aren’t they? You don’t have to answer that. It’s true. They’re scared. Their dicks get limp when confronted by a woman of obvious power and what do they do about it? Call them witches, burn them, torture them, until every woman is afraid. Afraid of herself… afraid of men… and all for what? Fear of losing their hard-on.
Jackson: You know me. It’s my duty to please that booty.
Nicholson: Well… there’s more things in this life than you can possibly imagine. I knew a whore once in Wilmington. She had a glass eye… used to take it out and wink people off for a dollar.
Jackson: The last time I got blown, candy bars cost a nickel.
Nicholson: I see men running around trying to put their dicks into everything, trying to make something happen… but it’s WOMEN who are the source… the only power. Nature, birth, rebirth. Cliche? Cliche… sure… but true.
Jackson: I’m always frank and earnest with women. Uh, in New York I’m Frank, and Chicago I’m Ernest.
Nicholson: just your average horny little devil.
Jackson: I eat the pussy, I eat the butt, I eat every motherfuckin’ thang.
Nicholson: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Jackson: My ass may be dumb, but I ain’t no dumbass.
Nicholson: You’re dumber than you think I think you are.
Jackson: English, motherfucker, do you speak it?
Jackson: I’m sorry, did I break your concentration? I didn’t mean to do that. Please, continue, you were saying something about… What’s the matter? Oh, you were finished. Well, allow me to retort…
Nicholson: Never, never, interrupt me, okay? Not if there’s a fire, not even if you hear the sound of a thud from my home and one week later there’s a smell coming from there that can only be a decaying human body and you have to hold a hanky to your face because the stench is so thick that you think you’re going to faint… Or, if it’s election night, and you’re excited and you wanna celebrate because some fudgepacker that you date has been elected the first queer president of the United States and he’s going to have you down to Camp David, and you want someone to share the moment with… Not for ANY reason. Do you get me, sweetheart?
Jackson: Man, you best backoff. I’m getting a little pissed here.
Nicholson: You didn’t let me finish my sentence… I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in. Gonna bash ’em right the fuck in!
Jackson: Well, I’m a mushroom-cloud-layin’ motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I’m Superfly T.N.T., I’m the Guns of the Navarone.
Nicholson: Take caution in your tone… I’m a fair guy, but this fucking heat is making me absolutely crazy.
Jackson: Say… again. Say… again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker… one more Goddamn time.
Nicholson: … Calm down, or you’ll shoot in your pants.
Jackson: Normally, … your ass… would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you… Besides, I’ve already been through too much shit this morning…
Jackson: God put you in my path and I aim to cure you of your wicked ways.
Nicholson: You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?
Jackson: The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know My name is the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon thee.
Nicholson: People who talk in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch.
Jackson: Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
Nicholson: Where do they teach you to talk like this? In some Panama City “Sailor wanna hump-hump” bar, or is it getaway day and your last shot at his whiskey? Sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here.
Jackson: If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.
Nicholson: Y’know… you got a helluva knack for killin’ a conversation.
Jackson: Look, I hate to be the kinda nigga does a nigga a favor, then, BAM!, hits a nigga up for a favor in return. But I’m afraid I gots to be that kinda nigga.
Nicholson: What do you wanna discuss now? My favorite colour?
Jackson: My name’s Pitt. And your ass ain’t talkin’ your way out of this shit.
Nicholson: …why can’t we all just get along?