I just watched the movie, Titanic -- and in doing so, discovered how very much the years have changed me. I was surprised to find that I wasn't nearly so caught up in the romance between Jack and Rose, as I was riveted on the fact that steerage or not, poor Sicilian trash or not, locked down in the bowels of that doomed ship with all the other filthy, stinking, garlic-breathed, godless bilge rats or not -- I woulda gnawed through the hull of that rig with my goddamned teeth. There wouldn't have been any of this noble, white-people, going-down-with-the-ship-to-the-glorious-orchestral-strains of Nearer My God, To Thee horseshit. FUCK ALL THAT.
No matter what, please rest assured that MY BIG, SCRAPPY, SCANDALOUS ASS WOULD'VE SURVIVED -- and if the only way to have done that would have been to ruthlessly surf my fatass onto shore on the dapper back of the bloated, stinking, nattily-dressed carcass of John Jacob Astor...YOU CAN BET MY FATASS WOULDA BEEN SHOUTIN' COWABUNGA, MOTHERFUCKERS.