Favorite Images of Cinema

What’s the matter with you guys? This was never about the money, this was about us against the system. That system that kills the human spirit. We stand for something. We are here to show those guys that are inching their way on the freeways in their metal coffins that the human sprit is still alive. Don’t worry about this guy, okay? I know exactly what to do with him.

You can’t win. You know that, don’t you? It doesn’t matter if you whip us, you’ll still be where you were before, at the bottom. And we’ll still be the lucky ones at the top with all the breaks. It doesn’t matter. Greasers will still be Greasers and Socs will still be Socs. It doesn’t matter.

The dream is always the same. Instead of going home, I go to the neighbors’. I ring, but nobody answers. The door is open, so I go inside. I’m looking around for the people, but nobody seems to be there. And then I hear the shower running, so I go upstairs to see what’s what. Then I see her; this… girl, this incredible girl. I mean, what she’s doing there I don’t know, because she doesn’t live there… but it’s a dream, so I go with it. “Who’s there?” she says. “Joel,” I say. “What are you doing here?” “I don’t know what I’m doing here; what are *you* doing here?” “I’m taking a shower,” she says. Then I give her: “You want me to go?” “No,” she says; “I want you to wash my back.” So now, I’m gettin’ enthusiastic about this dream. So I go to her, but she’s hard to find through all the steam and stuff; I keep losing her. Finally I get to the door… and I… find myself in a room full of kids taking their college boards. I’m over three hours late; I’ve got two minutes to take the whole test. I’ve… just made a terrible mistake. I’ll never get to college. My life is ruined.

They’re trying to goad me, trying to own me. But this isn’t a gunfight. It’s not about pride or ego. It’s only about money. I can leave now, even with Grama and KGB… and halfway to paying Petrovsky back. That’s the safe play. I told Worm you can’t lose what you don’t put in the middle. But you can’t win much either.

Good people, I missed my introduction. But please… Please I pray you, hear it now, for I would lay rest the grace in my tongue and speak plainly. Days like these are far too rare to cheapen with heavy handed words, and so, I’m afraid without any ado whatsoever… Excuse me My Lord… Here he is, one of your own, born a stone’s throw from this very stadium, and here before you now, the son of John Thatcher… Sir Wiiiiiilliam Thatcheeer.