i happened to pop over to vox’ blog noticed she had a link to what somebody considered the top 10 movie monologues of all time.

i could agree with most of them, but quite a few were left out.

here’s my top 10 (why? because i used to work in a video store and have watched a ton of movies):

10) singles - steve talking about relationships:

I broke up with someone recently: Jennifer, my last girlfriend. I did it in a crowded restaurant. She just stared at me with that look: How can you pass me up? I told her we weren’t right and all the stuff we both knew. A week later I realized I was wrong, tried to get back together with her. She won’t see me. Now she’s with Tony. Tony knows my friend Bailey, who’s friends with the girl Tony’s going out with on the side, Rita. Rita who I broke up with to go out with Jennifer. So now do I tell Jennifer that I know Tony’s going out with Rita or do I tell Rita that I know about Tony and Jennifer? Tony will tell Jennifer that I was still going out with Rita while I was going out with her. How does stuff get so complicated? I don’t know.

9) american beauty - lester’s final monologue

I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn’t a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time… For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars… And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street… Or my grandmother’s hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper… And the first time I saw my cousin Tony’s brand new Firebird… And Janie… And Janie… And… Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me… but it’s hard to stay mad, when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life… You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But don’t worry… you will someday.

kill bill vol. 1 - the bride’s speech after she just crawled into the pussy wagon

As I lay in the back of Buck’s truck, trying to will my limbs out of entropy, I could see the faces of the cunts that did this to me and the dick responsible. Members all of Bill’s brainchild - the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. When fortune smiles on something as violent and ugly as revenge, it seems proof like no other, that God exists, and not only does He exist, you’re doing His will.

7) revenge of the nerds - gilbert and lewis’ big speech at the end:

Gibert: I just wanted to say that I’m a nerd, and I’m here tonight to stand up for the rights of other nerds. I mean uh, all our lives we’ve been laughed at and made to feel inferior. And tonight, those bastards, they trashed our house. Why? Cause we’re smart? Cause we look different? Well, we’re not. I’m a nerd, and uh, I’m pretty proud of it.

Lewis: Hi, Gilbert. I’m a nerd too. I just found that out tonight. We have news for the beautiful people. There’s a lot more of us then there are of you. I know there’s alumni here tonight. When you went to Adams you might’ve been called a spazz, or a dork, or a geek. Any of you that have ever felt stepped on, left out, picked on, put down, whether you think you’re a nerd or not, why don’t you just come down here and join us. Okay? Come on.

Gibert: Just join us cause uh, no-one’s gonna really be free until nerd persecution ends.

6) so i married an axe murdrer - charlie’s poem to harriet outside her window:

Harriet. Harry-ette. Hard-hearted harbinger of haggis. Beautiful, bemuse-ed, bellicose butcher. Un-trust… ing. Un-know… ing. Un-love… ed? “He wants you back,” he screamed into the night air like a fireman going to a window that has no fire… except the passion of his heart. I am lonely. It’s really hard. This poem… sucks.

5) strange days - lenny’s speech to a potential client:

See… I can get you what you want, I can. I can get you anything, you just have to talk to me, you have to trust me. You can trust me, ’cause I’m your priest, I’m your shrink… I am you main connection to the switchboard of he soul. I’m the magic man… Santa Claus of the subconscious. You say it, you think it, you can have it.

4) boiler room - jim young’s speech in the group interview:

Okay, here’s the deal. I am not here to waste your time and I certainly hope you’re not here to waste mine. So I’m gonna keep this short. You become an employee of this firm and you will make your first million within three years.

Okay? Let me repeat that. You will make a million dollars within three years of your first day of employment at JT Marlin.

There is no question as to whether you will be a millionaire working at this firm, the only question is how many times over.

You think I’m joking. I am not joking. I am a millionaire. It’s a weird thing to hear, right? I’ll tell you, it’s a weird thing to say. I’m a fucking millionaire. Now guess how old I am? Twenty-seven. You know what that makes me here? A fucking senior citizen. This firm is entirely comprised of people your age, not mine. Lucky for me, I happen to be very fucking good at my job or I’d be out of one. You guys are the new blood. You’re gonna go home with the kesef. You’re the future Big-Swinging-Dicks of this firm. Now you all look money hungry and that’s good. Anybody tells you money is the root of all evil, doesn’t fucking have it! They say money can’t buy happiness? Look at the fucking smile on my face. Ear to ear, baby.

You want details? Fine. I drive a Ferrari 355 cabriolet. What’s up.

I have a ridiculous house on the South Fork. I have every toy you possibly imagine. And best of all, kids, I am liquid.

So now that you know what’s possible, let me tell you what’s required. You are required to work your fucking ass off at this firm. We want winners here, not pikers. A piker walks at the bell. A piker asks how much vacation time you get in the first year. Vacation time? People come to work at this firm for one reason: to become filthy rich. That’s it. We’re not here to make friends. We’re not saving the fucking manatees here, guys. You want vacation time? Go teach third grade public school.

Okay. First six months at the firm are as a trainee… you make one hundred and fifty dollars a week. After you’re done training, you take the Series Seven test. You pass that, you become a junior broker and you’re opening accounts for your team leader. You open forty accounts you start working for yourself. The sky’s the limit. A word about being a trainee. Your friends, your parents, the other brokers, whoever: they’re gonna give you shit about it. And it’s true, a hundred and fifty a week: not a lot of money, but pay them no mind. You need to learn the business and this is the time to do it. Once you pass the test none of that’s gonna matter.

Your friends are shit. You’re tell them you made twenty-five thousand last month and they’re not going to fucking believe you. Fuck them! Fuck ‘em! Parents don’t like the life you lead? Fuck you, Mom and Dad! See how it feels when you’re making their fucking Lexus payment.

Now go home and think about it. Think about whether or not this is really for you. If you decide it isn’t, listen, its nothing to be embarrased about. Its not for everyone.

3) planes, trains, and automobiles - neil’s speech to car rental agent:

Car Rental Agent: [cheerfully] Welcome to Marathon, may I help you?

Neal: Yes.

Car Rental Agent: How may I help you?

Neal: You can start by wiping that fucking dumbass smile off your rosy fucking cheeks! Then you can give me a fucking automobile: a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat!

Car Rental Agent: I really don’t care for the way you’re speaking to me.

Neal: And I really don’t care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn’t fucking there. And I really didn’t care to fucking walk down a fucking highway and across a fucking runway to get back here to have you smile at my fucking face. I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW!

Car Rental Agent: May I see your rental agreement.

Neal: I threw it away.

Car Rental Agent: Oh boy.

Neal: Oh boy what?

Car Rental Agent: You’re fucked!

2) animal house - bluto’s speech to rally the troops:

Bluto: Hey, what’s this lyin’ around shit?

Stork: Well, what the hell we supposed to do, you moron?

D-Day:: War’s over, man. Wormer dropped the big one.

Bluto:: Over? Did you say “over”? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!

Otter:: Germans?

Boon:: Forget it, he’s rolling.

Bluto:: And it ain’t over now. ‘Cause when the goin’ gets tough…
[thinks hard]

Bluto:: the tough get goin’! Who’s with me? Let’s go!
[runs out, alone; then returns]

Bluto:: What the fuck happened to the Delta I used to know? Where’s the spirit? Where’s the guts, huh? “Ooh, we’re afraid to go with you Bluto:, we might get in trouble.” Well just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I’m not gonna take this. Wormer, he’s a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer…

Otter:: Dead! Bluto:’s right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now we could do it with conventional weapons that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part.

Bluto:: We’re just the guys to do it.

D-Day:: Let’s do it.

Bluto:: LET’S DO IT!

1) 25th hour - monty’s “fuck you” speech to the mirror:

Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin’ and dealin’ and schemin’. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn’t know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin’ parade in the city. And don’t even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, ’cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don’t want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child’s pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you’re at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin’ Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend’s ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.
[pause]
No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

so, it’s not the best list and was kind of at the last minute, but i still like these scenes.