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Description
If you wake up at a different time,
in a different place,
could you wake up as a different person?

Our fathers were our models for God.
If our fathers bailed,
what does that tell you about God?

You have to consider the possibility
that God does not like you.
He never wanted you.
In all probability, he hates you.

Fuck damnation, Fuck redemption!
We are God's unwanted children? So be it!

First you have to give up,
first you have to know... not fear...
know... that someday you're going to die.

It's only after you've lost everything
that you're free to do anything.
Without pain, without sacrifice,
we would have nothing.

You're not your job.
You're not how much money you have in the bank.
You're not the car you drive.
You're not the contents of your wallet.
You're not your fucking khakis.
You're the all-singing,
all-dancing crap of the world.

God damn it,
an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables;
slaves with white collars.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes,
working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.

We're the middle children of history.
No purpose or place.
We have no Great War.
No Great Depression.

Our Great War's a spiritual war...
our Great Depression is our lives.
We've all been raised on television to believe
that one day we'd all be
millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars.

But we won't.
And we're slowly learning that fact.
And we're very, very pissed off.

We're consumers.
We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession.
Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me.
What concerns me are celebrity magazines,
television with 500 channels,
some guy's name on my underwear.
Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.

It's all going down.
So, Fuck off with your sofa units
and strine green stripe patterns,
I say never be complete,
I say stop being perfect,
I say let... lets evolve,
let the chips fall where they may.

Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat.
It's not a goddamn seminar.
You have to stop trying to control everything
and reject the basic assumptions of civilization,
especially the importance of materiel possessions.

You are not special.
You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake.
You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
We are all part of the same compost heap.

I want you to do me a favor,
I want you to hit me as hard as you can…
If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Description
If you wake up at a different time,
in a different place,
could you wake up as a different person?

Our fathers were our models for God.
If our fathers bailed,
what does that tell you about God?

You have to consider the possibility
that God does not like you.
He never wanted you.
In all probability, he hates you.

Fuck damnation, Fuck redemption!
We are God's unwanted children? So be it!

First you have to give up,
first you have to know... not fear...
know... that someday you're going to die.

It's only after you've lost everything
that you're free to do anything.
Without pain, without sacrifice,
we would have nothing.

You're not your job.
You're not how much money you have in the bank.
You're not the car you drive.
You're not the contents of your wallet.
You're not your fucking khakis.
You're the all-singing,
all-dancing crap of the world.

God damn it,
an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables;
slaves with white collars.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes,
working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.

We're the middle children of history.
No purpose or place.
We have no Great War.
No Great Depression.

Our Great War's a spiritual war...
our Great Depression is our lives.
We've all been raised on television to believe
that one day we'd all be
millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars.

But we won't.
And we're slowly learning that fact.
And we're very, very pissed off.

We're consumers.
We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession.
Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me.
What concerns me are celebrity magazines,
television with 500 channels,
some guy's name on my underwear.
Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.

It's all going down.
So, Fuck off with your sofa units
and strine green stripe patterns,
I say never be complete,
I say stop being perfect,
I say let... lets evolve,
let the chips fall where they may.

Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat.
It's not a goddamn seminar.
You have to stop trying to control everything
and reject the basic assumptions of civilization,
especially the importance of materiel possessions.

You are not special.
You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake.
You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
We are all part of the same compost heap.

I want you to do me a favor,
I want you to hit me as hard as you can…
If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.