Blow Monologues

The story of how George Jung, along with the Medellín Cartel headed by Pablo Escobar, established the American cocaine market in the 1970s in the United States.

We are broke, that is my fucking problem and you are a fucking spy. That's right. Always spyin', always judgin'. Everyone's laughing in your face, you fucking pussy. You let Diego fuck you in the ass. Maybe because you like it, maybe because you're a fucking faggot. That's what I think you are. I think you are really fuckin' him cause you're not fucking me. Why's that? Why? Why don't you fuck me anymore? Don't you ever touch me again, motherfucker! Don't ever put your hands on me again, asshole! Get your hands off me.

He's a fugitive and a fucking cocaine dealer! He's got a kilo in his trunk right now!

I'm divorcin' you George. I am getting custody of Kristina. And when you get out next week, you're gonna pay support and that's the end of it. There is someone else. I did not think you would want to know but I wanted to tell you. Say something.

I knew you would say something like that. Always thinkin' about yourself.

Woohoo! Let's fucking party, motherfuckers! Let's have some fucking fun!

So in the end, was it worth it? Jesus Christ. How irreparably changed my life has become. It's always the last day of summer and I've been left out in the cold with no door to get back in. I'll grant you I've had more than my share of poignant moments. Life passes most people by while they're making grand plans for it. Throughout my lifetime, I've left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there's almost not enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent. There are no more white horses or pretty ladies at my door.

Hello Dad. You know I remember a lifetime ago, when I was about 3 1/2 feet tall, weighing all of 60 pounds, but every inch your son. I remember those Saturday mornings going to work with my dad, we'd climb into that big green truck. I thought that truck... was the biggest truck in the universe pop. I remember how important the job we did was, how if it wasn't for us, people would freeze to death. I thought you were the strongest man in the world. And remember those home videos when mom would dress up like Loretta Young, barbeques and football games, ice cream, playing with the Tuna. And when I left for California only to come home with the FBI chasing me, and that FBI agent Trout had to kneel down to put my boots on and you said, "That's where you belong you son of a bitch, puttin on Georgie's boots." That was a good one Dad. That was really something. You remember that? And remember that time when you told me that money wasn't real. Well old man, I'm 42 years old, and I finally realize what you were trying to tell me, so many years ago. I finally understand. Your the best, pop, just wish I could have done more for you, wish we had more time. Anyway, may the wind always be at your back, and the sun always upon your face, and may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars. I love you Dad. Love George.

Your honor, I'd like to say a few words to the court if I may.

Alright. Well, in all honesty, I don't feel that what I've done is a crime. And I think it's illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. Because, when you think about it, what did I really do? I crossed an imaginary line with a bunch of plants. I mean, you say I'm an outlaw, you say I'm a thief, but where's the Christmas dinner for the people on relief? Huh? You say you're looking for someone who's never weak but always strong, to gather flowers constantly whether you are right or wrong, someone to open each and every door, but it ain't me, babe, huh? No, no, no, it ain't me, babe. It ain't me you're looking for, babe. You follow?

Hey, am I wearing lipstick? I said, am I wearing lipstick? When I'm getting fucked I want to make sure my face looks pretty.

I was busted. Set up by the FBI and the DEA. That didn't bother me. Set up by Kevin Dulli and Derek Forreal to save their own asses. That didn't bother me. Sentenced to 60 years at Ottisville. That didn't bother me. I'd broken a promise. Everything I love in my life goes away.

They talk about religious experiences, I didn't believe in religion. Hell, I didn't particularly like kids. But, when Kristina Sunshine Jung came into this world, something in me changed. I knew what I was put on the planet for: it was the greatest feeling I ever had. Followed abruptly by the worst feeling I ever had.

Danbury wasn't a prison, it was a crime school. I went in with a Bachelor of marijuana, came out with a Doctorate of cocaine, and after sixteen months, I was once again a free man, well not altogether "free." The conditions of my parole were I had to live at my parents and find a job.

The official toxicity limit for humans is between one and one and half grams of cocaine depending on body weight. I was averaging five grams a day, maybe more. I snorted ten grams in ten minutes once. I guess I had a high tolerance.

The favor was to pick up fifty kilos of cocaine. Fifty. That's a hundred and ten pounds. Not exactly a small favor. Not like bumming a cigarette, for example. But what the hell. I didn't have anything better to do that day. It's not like I was on parole or anything.

Waiters, I'm the only guy on the planet that gets busted by fucking waiters, why the Feds decided to bust me on that particular night I'll never know maybe it was the Porsches and Maseratis in the drive way, my Columbian guest list or the cocaine buffet, whatever it was they were just waiting for me to slip up and I did.

We had the world by the short and curliies. We were young, rich, and in love. Nothing could stop us. It was perfect.