I'm going to write a book someday and the title will be I'm an Ass, You're an Ass
. That's the most liberating, wonderful thing in the world, when you openly admit you're an ass. It's wonderful. When people tell me, "You're wrong." I say, "What can you expect of an ass?"
Disarmed, everybody has to be disarmed. In the final liberation, I'm an ass, you're an ass. Normally the way it goes, I press a button and you're up; I press another button and you're down. And you like that. How many people do you know who are unaffacted by praise or blame? That isn't human, we say. Human means that you have to be a little monkey, so everybody can twist your tail, and you do whatever you ought
to be doing. But is that human? If you find me charming, it means that right now you're in a good mood, nothing more.
It also means that I fit your shopping list. We all carry a shopping list around, and it's as though you've got to measure up to this list--tall, um, dark, um, handsome, according to my
tastes. "I like the sound of his voice." You say, "I'm in love." You're not in love, you silly ass. Any time you're in love--I hestitate to say this--you're being particulary asinine. Sit down and watch what's happening to you. You're running away from yourself. You want to escape. Somebody once said, "Thank god for reality, and
for the means to escape from it." So that's what's going on. We are so mechanical, so controlled. We write books about being controlled and how wonderful it is to be controlled and how neccessary it is that people tell you you're O.K. Then you'll have good feelings about yourself. How wonderful it is to be in prison!