Margaret Cho
Korean-American actress and comedian.
George Bush blocked the availability of morning-after pills over the counter, stating that it would "promote promiscuity". ...So? You know, I never had access to morning-after pills, but that did not stop me from fucking my way through the U.S.A. like I was Lewis and Clark. And if the issue is promiscuity, then why is Viagra everywhere? Doesn't it make more sense to leave the bullets out of the gun than to just avoid being shot?
A Korean reporter once asked me, "Do you think your Korean parents are ashamed because you talk about what you talk about on stage?" I said, "I don't think they're ashamed because they're Korean. I think any parents would be ashamed."
My association is so painfully cloe that avoidance is the only way I know to retain my identity. Its ridiculous and embarrassing. I hate feeling this way, because it forces me to see how deeply racism has affected me.
I was on a plane, and the steward was coming down the aisle. "Asian chicken salad...Asian chicken salad...Asian chicken salad..." And he gets to me and he's like, "...chicken salad!" What does he think I'm gonna do? "Dis is not de salad of my people! In my homeland, dey use mandarin orange slices...and crispy wonton crunches!"
There are still lynchings. And while we dont use ropes anymore, there are more efficient ways of doing it.
Just as we pull up to this place...I notice two very large American flags...It's as if there was a need to emphasize the Americanness of this place. "We are American" says the first flag. "No we really are!" says the second. It struck me as enormously sad, somehow awkward and tragic.
I got back from Toronto, where they had a severe outbreak of SARS- you know, Severe Asian Racism Syndrome.
But Björk wore the best dress ever to the Oscars, ever. She wore a swan. And I'm not talking about a dress with white feathers on it. Oh, no. She rocked the whole bird. The beak was up here and shit. And she accessorized it with an egg -- what else you gon' wear with your bird?! And all of the fashion magazines said she was the worst dressed, but when they say you're the worst, that means you're the best.
Body dysmorphia has got to go.Its similar to a disease called "crazy eyes" not the way others look at you, but the way you see yourself. The insanity which we use as our vision....
I love my gay male friends, but when I was a little girl, I always used to wish that I would be constantly surrounded by gorgeous guys, and I am, and I should have been more specific.
Whenever I get hate mail, the verbal assault is always racial.
So I was on the ship, with 800 lesbians. We can't get off. So much drama. "Were you looking at her or her or her or her or her or her or her or her or her or her or her or her? WELL, WERE YOU?!" We all got on the same cycle.
No matter what these terrorists do, I refuse to be terrorized. All this requires is just a few alterations in our day to day lives. For example, my first instinct when I receive an envelope full of white powder...is to snort it! I just won't do that this time!
If racial minorities, sexual minorities, feminists both male and female, hell, all liberals got together and had this big "too much information," "go there," voice...that would equal power. And that power would equal change. And that change would equal a revolution.
Haven't we heard enough from these ancient white guys? There is this silent agreement that everyone everywhere has made regarding old white men. They are the bottom line, the last word, no matter what. The saying "It's not over 'til the fat lady sings is erroneous, because women who are fat are never listened to".
The first thing that you lose on a diet is brain mass.
So they cancelled our show, and gave the time slot to Drew Carey, because he's so skinny.
There's a bar in Edinburgh called "CC Bloom's." CC Bloom is the name of the character that Bette Midler played in Beaches. That is the gayest thing I have ever heard in my entire life. That place should just be called "Fuck-Me-In-The-Ass Bar and Grill."
I have had enough of the Pope, the Pope who really held on, he really held on, he wasn't going anywhere, he was just fucking hanging on, and the press could not wait for him to die. They were just waiting outside that whole Saturday when he died, but he wouldn't die, all day they were just fucking waiting, like: "He's not dead yet! But he might be when we come back from this commercial!"
So I was drinking tequila, and I was drinking grappa, which is Italian for gasoline, and I was drinking Jägermeister, which I believe is the liquid equivalent of Wonder Woman's golden lasso, because it will make you tell anybody the truth for no reason whatsoever. "You have really bad skin. Thanks for the drink."