You Dont Know Nann Nigga That Wear Mo Polo Than Me

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Full Metal Jacket is a 1987 flick that follows a grouping of recruits through Marine grooming and their tour of duty in Vietnam.

Written and directed by Stanley Kubrick, based on the novel The Brusk-Timers by Gustav Hasford.

In Vietnam, the wind doesn't blow. Information technology sucks. taglines

Today, yous people are no longer maggots. Today, you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood. From at present on, until the day you die, wherever yous are, every Marine is your brother. Almost of you will get to Vietnam. Some of you will not come back. Simply always retrieve this: Marines die. That's what we're hither for. But the Marine Corps lives forever and that means yous live forever.

The deadliest weapon in the world is a Marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if yous look to survive in combat. Your burglarize is only a tool. It is a hard middle that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong, y'all volition hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will go dead Marines. And so you volition be in a world of shit. Because Marines are not immune to dice without permission!

These are great days we're living, bros. Nosotros are jolly dark-green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human being beings we will ever know. After we rotate dorsum to the world, nosotros're gonna miss not having anyone effectually that'due south worth shooting.

I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit. Yep. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Dialogue [edit]

Hartman: I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "sir." Do yous maggots understand that?
Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
Recruits: SIR, Aye, SIR!
Hartman: If you ladies leave my isle, if you survive recruit training, you volition be a weapon. You will exist a minister of death, praying for war. Only until that day, you are pukes. You are the everyman course of life on Globe. You are non even homo fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized, grab-asstic pieces of amphibian shit. Because I am hard, you volition not similar me. Just the more than you lot hate me, the more yous will acquire. I am difficult but I am fair. At that place is no racial discrimination here. I do non await downward on niggers, kikes, wops, or greasers. Hither, yous are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who practice not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps!

Joker: [under his breath, imitating John Wayne] Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
Hartman: [hearing him] Who said that? Who the fuck said that?! [crossing toward Joker'due south end of the billet] Who's the slimy little Communist shit twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who merely signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Out-fucking-continuing. I volition PT you lot all until you fucking die! I'll PT you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk! [to Cowboy] Was information technology you, you lot scroungy little fuck, huh?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: You lot lilliputian piece of shit, you lot expect like a fucking worm! I'll bet information technology was yous!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Joker: Sir, I said it, sir!
Hartman: Well, no shit. What have we got here? A fucking comedian. Private Joker. I admire your honesty. Hell, I like yous. You can come up over to my house and fuck my sis. [punches Joker in the gut; he falls to his knees] You little scumbag! I got your name! I got your ass! You will not laugh! Yous will not cry! Y'all will learn by the numbers! I will teach you! Now become upwardly! Become on your feet! [Joker does so] You had best united nations-fuck yourself, or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!
Joker: Sir, yeah, sir!
Hartman: Private Joker, why did you lot join my beloved Corps?
Joker: Sir, to kill, sir!
Hartman: And so you're a killer.
Joker: Sir, yep, sir!
Hartman: Let me run into your war confront.
Joker: Sir?
Hartman: You got a war face? [gives a fierce yell] That's a state of war face! Now let me run across your war face! [Joker gives one with a non-so-convincingly-fierce yell] Bullshit! You didn't convince me. Allow me see your real war face! [Joker gives a louder, more convincing fierce yell, but Hartman is not impressed] You don't scare me. Work on it.
Joker: Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman: What'due south your excuse?
Cowboy: Sir, excuse for what, sir?
Hartman: I'm request the fuckin' questions here, Individual! Do yous sympathise?
Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Well, thank you lot very much! Can I be in accuse for a while?
Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Are y'all shook upwardly? Are yous nervous?
Cowboy: Sir, I am, sir!
Hartman: Do I brand you nervous?
Cowboy: Sir!
Hartman: "Sir" what? Are you about to call me an asshole?
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: How tall are you, Private?
Cowboy: Sir, five-foot-nine, sir!
Hartman: Five-foot-nine? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Bullshit! Information technology looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crevice of your mama'southward ass and ended upward equally a dark-brown stain on the mattress! I retrieve you've been cheated! Where in the hell are yous from anyway, Private?
Cowboy: Sir, Texas, sir!
Hartman: Holy dogshit! Texas? Merely steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy, and you don't much look similar a steer to me, so that kinda narrows information technology down. Practise you suck dicks?
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Are you lot a peter-puffer?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: I'll bet yous're the kinda guy that would fuck a person in the ass, and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a attain-effectually. I'll be watching you.

Hartman: Left shoulder, hut! [Lawrence briefly hikes his rifle to his right shoulder and corrects himself, but Hartman notices the fault, and angrily marches to him] Private Pyle, what are y'all trying to exercise to my beloved Corps?!
Lawrence: Sir, I don't know, sir!
Hartman: Yous are impaired, Private Pyle, but do yous expect me to believe that you don't know left from right?!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Then you did that on purpose; You wanna exist different!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Lawrence's left cheek] What side was that, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, left side, sir!
Hartman: Are you sure, Private Pyle?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Lawrence'due south correct cheek; knocking his cover off] What side was that, Private Pyle?!
Lawrence: [barely holding it together] Sir, right side, sir!
Hartman: Don't fuck with me again, Pyle! Choice up your fuckin' cover.
Lawrence: Sir, aye, sir!

Hartman: Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You lot volition give your rifle a girl'south proper noun, because this is the just pussy y'all people are going to become. Your days of finger-banging quondam Mary Jane Rottencrotch through her purty pink panties are over! Yous're married to this piece, this weapon of iron and wood. And you volition be true-blue! Port, hut! [Recruits grab their rifles] Fix to mount! [Recruits step back towards their bunks.] Mount! [Recruits quickly hop onto their bunks] Port, hut! [Recruits catch their rifles and hold them up] Pray!
Recruits: [simultaneously] This is my rifle. At that place are many similar it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master information technology every bit I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to impale me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I volition. Before God I swear this creed: My burglarize and myself are defenders of my state. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So exist it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.
Hartman: Order, hut! [Recruits lay their rifles at their sides] At ease! [shuts the lights off] Proficient night, ladies.
Recruits: Proficient night, sir!
Hartman: [to Night Watchman] Striking it, sweetheart.
Dark Watchman: Sir, yeah-aye, sir!

Hartman: Next two privates, go! Quickly! [To Lawrence as he struggles on an obstacle class] Become your fat donkey over there, Individual Pyle. Oh, that's correct, Private Pyle. Don't make any fucking effort to get upwards to the elevation of the fucking obstacle! If God wanted you upwardly there, He would've miracled your donkey up there by at present, wouldn't he?
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Become your fatty donkey up there, Pyle!
Lawrence: Sir, yep, sir!
Hartman: What the Hell is the matter with you anyway? I'll bet you lot if there was some pussy upward in that location on top of that obstacle...
Lawrence: [falling off again] Shit!
Hartman: ...you could get up there, couldn't you?
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Your ass looks like about 150 pounds of chewed bubble mucilage, Pyle! You know that?
Lawrence: Sir, yeah, sir!

Hartman: [To Privates Joker and Cowboy] Equally presently as you cease your bunks, I want y'all two turds to clean the head.
Joker & Cowboy: Sir, yes-yeah, sir!
Hartman: I want that head so sanitary and squared away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in there and have a dump.
Joker & Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Private Joker, practice you lot believe in The Virgin Mary?
Joker: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Well, Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly.
Joker: Sir, the private said "No, sir," sir!
Hartman: Why, y'all piddling maggot; Y'all make me wanna vomit! [Slaps Joker across the face] You lot Goddamn communist heathen. You had all-time sound off that y'all love The Virgin Mary, or I'thousand gonna stomp your guts out! Now, yous practise love The Virgin Mary, don't you?
Joker: Sir, negative, sir!
Hartman: Private Joker, are yous trying to offend me?
Joker: Sir, negative, sir! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong, and the Senior Drill Instructor will beat him harder if he reverses himself, sir!
Hartman: Who'south your squad leader, scumbag?
Joker: Sir, the individual'southward squad leader is Private Snowball, sir!
Hartman: Private Snowball!
Snowball: Sir, Private Snowball reporting as ordered, sir!
Hartman: Private Snowball, you're fired. Private Joker is promoted to squad leader.

Hartman: [inspecting recruits' finger/toenails, as they stand up on their footlockers] Trim 'em. Toe jam. Pop that blister. [sees Lawrence's footlocker is not secured] Jesus H. Christ. Private Pyle, why is your footlocker unlocked?!
Lawrence: Sir, I don't know, sir!
Hartman: Individual Pyle, if there is one matter in this earth that I detest, it is an unlocked footlocker! Y'all know that, don't you?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: If it wasn't for dickheads similar you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this globe, would there?!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Become Downward! [Lawrence steps down; Hartman opens the footlocker] Well, at present! Let'due south merely see if at that place's anything missing! [rummages through it; finds a jelly donut] Holy Jesus. What is that? What the fuck is that? [holds it upward in Lawrence'due south confront] WHAT IS THAT, Individual PYLE?!
Lawrence: Sir, a jelly donut, sir!
Hartman: A jelly donut?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: How did information technology become hither?
Lawrence: Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!
Hartman: Is grub allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Are you lot immune to consume jelly donuts, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: And why not, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, considering I'm too heavy, sir!
Hartman: Considering you are a disgusting fatty body, Private Pyle!
Lawrence: Sir, yeah, sir!
Hartman: And so why did you hide a jelly donut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, considering I was hungry, sir!
Hartman: Considering you were hungry? [pacing the barracks, still holding the donut] Individual Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon! I have tried to assistance him, simply I have failed! I have failed considering you have not helped me! You people take not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! And then, from at present on, whenever Individual Pyle fucks up, I will non punish him! I volition punish all of y'all! And the manner I see information technology, ladies, you owe me for one jelly doughnut! Now get on your faces! [to Lawrence] Open your mouth! [Lawrence does then and Hartman shoves the doughnut into his mouth] They're payin' for it, you eat it! [to recruits] Fix, exercise!
Recruits abreast Pyle: [doing push-ups] 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-two-iii-iv! I love Marine Corps! 1-ii-3-four! I love Marine Corps! ane-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! one-two-3-4!

Hartman: [referring to Lee Harvey Oswald and Charles Whitman] Exercise whatever of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot? [Joker raises his hand] Private Joker?
Joker: [stands up] Sir, in the Marines, sir!
Hartman: [impressed] In the Marines! Outstanding! Those individuals showed what one motivated Marine and his burglarize can do! And before yous ladies leave my isle, you volition all be able to practice the same matter!

Joker: [narrating] Our last nighttime on the island. I draw burn down sentinel.
[Joker goes into the caput to detect Individual Lawrence sitting on a head with his rifle and loading rounds into a mag]
Lawrence: [smiles eerily] Hiii... Joker.
Joker: [alarmed] Are those... live rounds?
Lawrence: Seven-vi-two millimeter. Full metal jacket.
Joker: [shaken] Leonard... if Hartman comes in here and catches usa... we'll both be in a globe of shit.
Lawrence: I AM... in a world... of shit! [loads the last round into the magazine and begins drilling loudly] Left shoulder, hut! Right shoulder, hut! Lock and load! [inserts magazine into the rifle, chambers a round] Order, hut! [smartly brings the rifle downwards to the "society arms" position] This is my rifle! There are many like it but this one is mine! My rifle is my best friend! It is my life!
[Other recruits wake up; Hartman storms out of his bedroom]
Hartman: [to recruits] Get dorsum in your bunks!
Lawrence: I must master it as I must master my life! Without me, my rifle is useless!
Hartman: [storms into the head] What is this Mickey Mouse shit?! What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my caput?! [to Joker] Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk afterward lights-out?! Why is Individual Pyle holding that weapon?! Why aren't you stomping Individual Pyle's guts out?!
Joker: Sir, information technology is the individual'southward duty to inform the senior drill teacher that Individual Pyle has a full magazine and has locked and loaded, sir!
Hartman: [calmly and sternly, to Lawrence] At present, yous listen to me, Individual Pyle, and you lot listen practiced. I want that weapon, and I want it now. Yous will place that rifle on the deck at your feet and step dorsum away from it. [Lawrence insanely and eerily smiles, and aims at Hartman'southward chest] [angrily bellowing] WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS?! DIDN'T MOMMY AND DADDY Bear witness YOU Enough Attending WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD?! [shoots and kills him, then swings the barrel slowly up toward Joker]
Joker: Easy, Leonard. Become easy, man. [Lawrence lowers information technology, sits on a head, and puts the muzzle in his mouth] [alarmed] NO!! [Lawrence pulls the trigger, killing himself and splattering his brains across the wall]

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, baby. You got girlfriend Vietnam?
Joker: Not just this infinitesimal.
Hooker: Well, baby, me so horny. Me and so horny! Me honey you long time. You political party?
Joker: Yeah, we might party. How much?

[Helicopter Door Gunner opens fire, and Rafterman is uncomfortably nauseous]
Door Gunner: Get some! Get some! [continues firing] Go some! Get some! Yep! Yeah! Get some! Become some! Come on! Come on! [continues firing] Get some! [continues firing] Ha-ha! Become some, babe! Go some! Get some! Get some! Become some! Become some! Come on! Get it! Come on! Become some! Get some! Yeah-yes-aye! I've got you, female parent! [stops firing] Ha-ha! [looks at Joker and Raftman] Anyone who runs is a VC! Anyone who stands however is a well-disciplined VC! [laughs] Y'all guys oughta do a story almost me sometime!
Joker: Why should nosotros do a story about y'all?!
Door Gunner: 'Cause I'm so fuckin' good! That ain't no shit, neither! I've done got me 157 dead gooks killed. And 50 water buffaloes, too! Them're all certified!
Joker: Any women or children?!
Door Gunner: Sometimes!
Joker: How can you shoot women and children?!
[Rafterman gags in disgust]
Door Gunner: Easy! You lot merely don't lead 'em then much! [laughs] Ain't war Hell?

Colonel: Marine, what is that push on your body armor?
Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Colonel: Where'd y'all get it?
Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Joker: "Born to kill", sir.
Colonel: Y'all write "built-in to impale" on your helmet, and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to exist, some kind of sick joke?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: What is information technology supposed to mean?
Joker: I don't know, sir.
Colonel: You don't know very much, do you?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: You amend get your head and your donkey wired together, or I will take a giant shit on yous.
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Now reply my question, or you'll be standing tall before the man.
Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something almost the duality of man, sir.
Colonel: The what?
Joker: The duality of man; The Jungian thing, sir.
Colonel: Whose side are you lot on, son?
Joker: Our side, sir.
Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Then how 'bout getting with the program? Why don't you lot jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Joker: Aye, sir.
Colonel: Son, all I've e'er asked of my Marines is for them to obey my orders equally they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook, there is an American trying to get out. It's a difficult-ball world, son. We've gotta try to go on our heads until this peace craze blows over.
Joker: [salutes] Aye-yes, sir.

Taglines [edit]

  • In Vietnam, the wind doesn't accident. It sucks.
  • Vietnam can kill me, only it tin can't make me intendance.

Cast [edit]

  • Matthew Modine - Individual Joker / J.T. Davis
  • Vincent D'Onofrio - Private Gomer Pyle / Leonard Lawrence
  • R. Lee Ermey - Gunnery Sergeant Hartman
  • Adam Baldwin - Animal Mother
  • Dorian Harewood - Private Eightball
  • Arliss Howard - Individual Cowboy
  • Kevyn Major Howard - Rafterman
  • Ed O'Ross - Lieutenant Touchdown / Walter J. Schinoski
  • John Terry - Lieutenant Lockhart
  • Kieron Jecchinis - Crazy Earl
  • Kirk Taylor - Payback
  • Peter Edmund - Private Snowball
  • Tim Colceri - Doorgunner
  • Gil Kopel - Stork

External links [edit]

Wikipedia

  • Total Metal Jacket quotes
  • Full Metal Jacket quotes at the Cyberspace Movie Database
  • Total Metal Jacket at Rotten Tomatoes

avilabagall.blogspot.com

Source: https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Full_Metal_Jacket

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