Are there any **** here tonight? Can you turn on the house lights, please, and could the waiters and waitresses just stop serving, just for a second? And turn off the spot. Now what did he say? Are there any **** here tonight? I know there's one **** here; because, I see him back there working. Let's see. There's two ****. And between those two **** sits a ****. And there's another ****. That's two **** and three ****. And there's a spic, right? Hm? There's another spic. Ooh, there's a wop. There's a Polack. And then, oh, a couple of greaseballs. There's three lace-curtain Irish Micks. And there's one hip, thick, hunky, funky boogie. Boogie, boogie. Mm-mm. I got three ****. Do I hear five ****? I got five ****. Do I hear six spics? Six spics. Do I hear seven ****? I got seven ****. Sold: American! I'll pass with seven ****, six spics, five Micks, four ****, three guineas, and one wop. You almost punched me out, didn't ya? I was trying to make a point and that is it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness. Dig. If President Kennedy would just go on television and say I'd like to introduce you to all the **** in my cabinet. And if he'd just say ****, ****, ****, ****, **** to every **** he saw, boogie, boogie, boogie, boogie, boogie, ****, ****, ****, ****, **** till **** didn't mean anything anymore! Then you'd never be able to make some six year old black kid cry because somebody called him a **** in school.