Kevin Kline Monologues

We were golfing. You know, golfing, to me, is something I'm supposed to enjoy. And I was on the goddamn golf team in college, so it's something one would assume I'd do well. I used to do well. But basically, these days, golfing for me is like hoeing… or plowing. It's like farming. And George Clair has obviously, in the mere two years since he's been with the firm, he's obviously been taking secret lessons with a golf pro. And I bet the entirety of his disposable income has been dedicated to humiliating me on the golf course. That guy talks nonstop throughout the entirety of the misery of the miserable 18 holes…

You have a point there. That's a very good point. We're having an affair. Right. An explicitly sexual relationship. Your needs, my needs. You're absolutely right.

The only big fight we've had in years is about whether to go back into couples therapy.

Well, that's the whole point of the holidays, Paul. So you and your sister can mope around the house, and your mother and I can wait on your hand and foot, while the two of you occasionally grunt for more food from behind the hair in your faces. Believe it or not, we actually enjoy it.

On the self-abuse front - and this is important - I don't think it's advisable to do it in the shower. It wastes water and electricity and because we all expect you to be doing it there in any case. And, not on... under the linen... Well... Anyway, if you're worried about anything at all, just feel free to ask and we'll look it up.

What do I think? I think you're probably... touching each other. I think... You're touching that reckless jerk-off for God's sake, and I think he's trying to get into your slacks! I think at 14 years of age, you're getting ready to give up you're girlhood!

Hey, don't you direct a single word at me, Mikey. I don't wanna hear it. I'll be discussing this matter with your parents very soon. Young lady.

You know, I think Elena might suspect something. Maybe, it's all for the better, you know?

Yesterday at dinner, she - Well, she didn't say anything. Has she acted funny to you? Have you noticed anything?

Yeah, but... I've been working a lot lately and - No, that's not it. I... I guess maybe we're just on the verge of... saying something. Saying something to each other. On the verge.

Well, it's great that we can all be together. And this Thanksgiving, no yelling, no hysteria, especially with your grandpa not here, although we miss him.

If I were a fascist, I would have sent you to one of those southern military academies a long time ago. Now, get to bed.

Don't call me stupid.

Oh, you English are *so* superior, aren't you? Well, would you like to know what you'd be without us, the good ol' U.S. of A. to protect you? I'll tell you. The smallest fucking province in the Russian Empire, that's what! So don't call me stupid, lady. Just thank me.

If it wasn't for us, you'd all be speaking *German!* Singing "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles..."

Hello, Mr. Burglar! Going somewhere? Thought you could rob Mr. Leach, eh? Well, I'm going to teach you a lesson!

He just happens to be a very good friend of mine!

And he's going to be very pleased with me to find you here, all tied up and ready for the police!

And don't call me "Otto." To you, I am "Mr..."

Oh, my God… Oh… Oh my God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. How could I know it was you? I mean, how could you expect me to guess? Stupid jerk! I mean, what the fuck were you doing robbing your own house?

You asshole! You stupid, stiff, pompous, English…!

I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Uh... uh... yeah.

Look, you obviously don't know anything about intelligence work, lady. It's an X-K-Red-27 technique.

I love watching your ass when you walk. Is that beautiful or what? Don't go near him, he's mine.

You're a very attractive man, Ken. You're… smart, you've got wonderful bones, great eyes, and you dress really interestingly.

We could have a lot of fun together, you and I. And I think we'd be really good for each other. What do you say?

May I kiss you, Ken?

Don't call me stupid!

Avoid the green ones. They're not ripe yet.

Ok… Ok… DISAPPOINTED. Son of a bitch. What do you have to do in this world to make people trust you?

People are always taking advantage of me.

Pork away pal. Fuck her blue.

What is this? "Hump a Limey" week?

I love robbing the English, they're so polite.

I'm here because I'm bored. Bored hanging around this God-awful city. Shoving George's ugly pic... Talking to a lot of snotty, stuck up, intellectual British faggots. Jesus they're uptight they get rigor mortis in the prime of life in this country, standing there with their hair clenched.

Just, counting the seconds to the weekends so they can all dress up like ballerinas and whip themselves into a frenzy at the flat at 4. 2B St.

To be honest I hate them. I mean pretending they're so fucking lawyer.

superior, so fucking superior with those phony accents.

Not you Ken, you have a beautiful speaking voice... when it works.

Son of a bitch!

So, wanna have some lunch?

Have you heard from him?

So the old lady's gonna m-m-m-meet with an accident eh K-K-K-K-Ken?

Well, Ken, I'm going to ask you some questions, while I eat my chips. First: Who was the philosopher who developed the concept of the superman in Also sprach Zarathustra?

No? That's a chip up the nose, I'm afraid. Friedrich Nietzsche. Next: In which book did Nietzsche claim that almost all higher culture is based on cruelty?

Are you thinking or in mid-stutter?

Beyond Good and Evil. Guess I'll have to ask you an easy one, huh, Ken? Okay. Um… Let me think, let me think. Um… Where are the diamonds?

If you've ever seen the look on somebody's face the day they finally get a job, I've had some experience with this, they look like they could fly. And its not about the paycheck, it's about respect, it's about looking in the mirror and knowing that you've done something valuable with your day. And if one person could start to feel this way, and then another person, and then another person, soon all these other problems may not seem so impossible. You don't really know how much you can do, until you stand up and decide to really try.

Hail to the chief / He's the one we all say "Hail" to. / We all say "Hail" / 'Cause he keeps himself so clean! / He's got the power, / That's why he's in the shower…

What? Oh, you mean the press conference. I had a couple of ideas that I wanted to share with the country.

Okay, let's get right to the guts of it: every one of these accusations is absolutely true.

I'm the President, and as they say, the buck stops here. So I take full responsibility for each one of my illegal actions. But that's not the whole story. I think the American people are entitled to the real truth.

I have here evidence in the form of notes, letters, and written memoranda, proving that Bob Alexander was involved in each of these illegal acts, and in most cases planned them as well.

Now, allegations of wrongdoing have also been made against Vice President Nance. Now, as this evidence will prove, at no time and in no way was the Vice President involved in any of this affair. Bob just made all that up. Vice President Nance is a good and decent public servant, and I want to apologize for any pain that this has caused him or his family.

I don't want to tell some eight-year-old kid he's gotta sleep in the street because we want people to feel better about their *car*. Do *you* want to tell them that?

She's great. She's really exotic! She's a princess! She's Polynesian - well, half Polynesian, and half American. She's… Amnesian.

You know, I've always wondered about you guys. You know, about how you're trained to take a bullet for the president?

Is that really true? I mean, would you let yourself be killed to save his life?

So, now that means you'd get killed for me too.

First cover of Time and I need a shave.

I think there are certain things you should expect from your president. I had to care more about you than I do about me. I had to care more about what's right than I do about what's popular.

I mean she's the first lady. I mean couldn't I have started with a cousin?

When I first met this one here, she was a rag and a bone and a hank of hair. And that was a whole year-and-a-half after the Russians had liberated the camp she was in.

This toast is in honor of my disassociation of you two creeps. Disassociation from you, coony captive cunt of King's county. And you, the dreary dregs of Dixie.

On this bridge on which so many great Americans writers stood and reached out for words to give America its voice... looking toward the land that gave them Whitman... from its Eastern edge dreamt his country's future and gave it words... on this span of which Thomas Wolfe and Hart Crane wrote, we welcome Stingo into that pantheon of the Gods... whose words are all we know of immortality. To Stingo!

You spent the whole fucking afternoon with him, or should I say, you spent the whole afternoon fucking him.

We put the little sweetie here on a massive doses of ferrous sulphate and she began to bloom like a rose. A rose. A rose. A beautiful fucking rose. You're something!

Tell me. Tell me, Sophie. The same anti-Semitism for which Poland has gained such a worldwide renown that this similar anti-Semitism guide your own destiny, help you along, protect you in a manner of speaking so you became one of the minuscule, handful of people who lived - while the millions died? Tell me. Tell me why? Explanation, please! Tell me why, old lucky number 11379, tell me, why you inhabit the land of the living? What splendid little tricks and strategems sprang from that lovely head of yours to allow you to breath the clear Polish air? While the multitudes at Auschwitz choked - slowly - on the gas?

Well, shut my mouth, if it isn't our new literate figure from the South. Too bad I won't be around for a little lively conversation. We'd've had great time, you and I, shootin' this shit. We could've talked about - sports. Southern sports. like lynchin' niggers, or coons I think you all call 'em down there. So long cracker. See you in another life.

You wipe out six million Jews - and the world lets them escape. You want to join me in a little lynching party, Southern boy? I expect you might have a lot to teach me there.