Lock 'n Load

Dennis Leary

Compositor: Denis Leary / Greg Dulli / Jeff Garlin

"do it!"

Let me get this straight, god talks to benny hinn, he talks to jimmy swaggart, he talks to wide receivers and defensive linemen. i was an altar boy for seven years, i memorized the latin fucking mass, and you know what?

"lock and load!"

I've never heard from the guy, not a phone call, not a note, but apparently he talks to reggie white every saturday night before the big game on sunday, because as we all know, god is a huge green bay fucking packers fan, right?

"go with yourself."

You know what, i'm done, it's over, i quit, i'm starting my own church. buh-bye!

"this world is bullshit--"

"last time anyone on this earth called himself lord, he was crucified."

I am now the leader of the lapsed catholic church, and here are the rules, my friends. thou shalt not? fuck that, thou fucking shall.

"hold on, can you speak a little slower? gotta break a little sweat."

As long as you don't have sex with kids or kill anybody, you can do whatever... the fuck you want in my church!

"maya angelou said that-- this world is bullshit."

If you so much as look at an altar boy the wrong way, you don't get transferred to some distant parish up in nova scotia, no fucking way, pal. you stand naked in the middle of times square wearing a big neon sign that says, "i carry a torch for kids who carry candles," you fucking assholes!

"and my boyfriend can make you disappear!"

And there's no more magical burning blisters or blueberry muffins. you screw up this time, the virgin mother shows up in your driveway like ray liotta in goodfellas. she pistol-whips ya, then she sets your dick on fire, okay?

"i welcome this kind of examination."
"do it!"
"lock 'n load!"

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife? bullshit! you covet his wife, his house, his car, and his pool. you know why? because he's already coveting every inch of your shit, pal.

"his finger is between my asscheeks."
"can ya get two knuckles up there?"
"father, what are you doing?"

Ya, what are you doin', father? keep your fuckin' hands to yourself, ok?

"go with yourself."

You wanna do somethin' with your hands? stick 'em up the pope's ass, it's one of the new fuckin' rules, okay? 'cause in my church, when it comes to healing, you know how benny hinn lays his hands on the head of a supposedly blind person, then when he takes his hands off, the guy can see? here's how we do it in my church: you're a pothead, guess what? you're still a fucking pothead!

When it comes time to confess your sins in the lapse catholic church, guess who you confess your sins to? that's right, father leary. you walk in and say, "bless me father, for i have sinned." i say, "that's fucking great! what'd you do?" "i, um, thought impure thoughts all this week." "fucking excellent! what else?" "um, i jerked off like five times." "that's fucking great! you know what your penance is? run across the street, steal two cases of beer and a pizza, and bring it back here, okay? we're gonna sit around the rectory, and smoke, and eat pizza, and drink beer, and watch tv, and if we see the pope on tv, we're gonna give him the finger and make fun of his hats, okay?"

You know what else? ted kennedy? forgiven. frank gifford? forgiven. marv albert? forgiven. al sharpton, forgiven. richard nixon, forgiven. bill fucking buckner, forgiven. everybody's forgiven. except you, o.j. fuck you!

"do it! do--do--do-do-do-do it!"

I hope your kids pull a menendez on you, o.j., and then they'll be forgiven, ten times over. go in peace my friend. get the beer, and the pizza, and bring it back here, because sin is in! sin is in, and so we begin.

"i think i see the light father. can i put my pants back on now?"

"i am not a crook. i am not a crook."


"fucking asshole!"
"you fucking asshole!"
"yeah, yeah, yeah. save it; we'll put it on the record."
"oh, there's one funny thing..." (everybody laughs)
"20 minutes in... $14.99 for this motherfucker?"
"damn! i want my money back!"
"denis leary?"
"fuck him!"
(laughs)

"alright? bye."