In Defense of Tony Hayward

Former BP CEO Tony Hayward has been bashed repeatedly for the following quote in which he compared his loss to that of Gulf coast residents whose lives have been effected by the recent oil leak:

"We're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused to their lives. There's no one who wants this thing over more than I do, I'd like my life back."

On it's own, this quote may seem a bit insensitive, however -- as usual -- the media has sensationalized the story by taking Hayward's words out of context. I have obtained videotape footage of Hayward's remarks and have posted them below in their entirety:

"We're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused to their lives. There's no one who wants this thing over more than I do, I'd like my life back. I understand that many fishermen are no longer able to work, and their lack of business will have a ripple effect throughout much of the Gulf Coast economy. But lets be honest here. We're talking about a bunch of guys who are about to get a few months off from having to drag their asses onto some fucking skiff every morning in the blistering heat and pull shrimp out of saltwater for 12 hours a day. I'm sure they could use a little break. And remember: three months from now these assholes are going to stumble over to their mailbox in a drunken stupor at 2:00 in the afternoon and find a check payable to my company compensating them for their losses. So you go and ask every one of these fishermen, man to man, and I promise you this, they're not counting down the days til this is over.

Meanwhile, ever since this bloody oil leak, I've been down here in this fucking heat, answering questions from dumbass reporters -- who are trying to make me look like an asshole -- while I'm trying to do damage control on the PR front by rubbing elbows with a bunch of non-English speaking, pickle-juice drinking rednecks who are going sue my company regardless of how much ass I kiss down here. (And although most people in this part of America will tell you that they speak English, trust me, they're not speaking the King's. I can't even leave my hotel room without an interpreter.)

Look, I'm a fucking businessman, ok. I didn't cause the bloody explosion. So don't blame me. Do you know what I do?

I decide which multi-billion dollar corporations BP is going to buy next. I talk to Presidents and Prime Ministers and Kings and Czars and dictators about how much we're going to pay them to drill on their land. Do you really think I had any idea what was going on on some little piece-of-shit oil rig off the coast of Bumblefuck Louisiana? 

You know what I did the night before the explosion on the Deepwater Horizon? I was in Moscow with Vladdy Putin and eating caviar off a mother of pearl spoon and cutting steak with a diamond knife while deciding who the next President of the United States will be. Then I was sipping vodka with Roman Abramovich and Vagit Alekperov in a nightclub surrounded by every goddamn Russian beauty pageant contestant from this century. 

I've bedded the most beautiful prostitutes in the world, I've eaten the finest foods ever to be eaten, and I've sailed on the fastest / most luxurious yachts ever built. Listen, I've blown off women to whom you would give your life. And now I'm stuck in fucking Buttcum Mississippi eating gumbo and drinking shitty coffee, pretending like I give a fuck about what happens to this local economy.

Listen, I've lost a whole helluva lot more than you. I've lost more in BP stock than all these fucking fishermen and hotel owners combined. And what about lost income? You think some other company is going to want to bring me in as their CEO after this? You think I'm going to be giving motivational speeches to a bunch of over-fed and under-sexed middle managers at corporate golf retreats after this? 

And on top of all that, I've got every goddamn tree-hugger this side of the prime meridian coming up to me and complaining about oil getting on the Pelicans and dolphins and other endangered species.

Hey, I've got a question for them:

WHEN WERE GUYS LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO START GIVING A FUCK ABOUT PELICANS?

Do I look like the type of guy who gives a shit about animals? Do I have long hair, and wear a hemp necklace and Birkenstocks and have an "Obama for Change" bumper-sticker on my Prius? Do I smell bad? Do you see me begging you for money to help save the environment? Do I look like the type of asshole who reads the New Yorker for it's fiction and poetry? Did you mistake me for the guy you saw shopping in the vegan section of Whole Foods with a joint and a copy of In Defense of Food hanging out of my backpack? 

Look, I don't know of any Pelicans or Sea Turtles that spend their money at the pump. How about this: show me a dolphin behind the wheel of a Chevy, and I'll make sure that BP tries to save as many of those fucking fish as possible.

(And I know that dolphins are considered mammals, but I'll tell you what: they look a lot like fish, and they certainly taste a lot like fish.)

And listen, I've done crazier things on a lazy Tuesday mid-morning than you'd do on the last night of your life. (Trust me)

I spend my days making power moves in the boardroom, and I spend my nights making power moves in the bedroom. Seriously: you should see the things I do in a bedroom. You wouldn't even understand why I'm doing the things I do, but trust me, when you've done all that I've done, it's simply the next logical step. 

And any time that I'm not spending in a boardroom or a bedroom or in one of the finest eating or drinking establishments on Earth, I'm sitting in a Swiss bank getting a pedicure and counting my money. 

I'm not used to slumming it out here with the heathens.

And I'll tell you what: I know exactly how all of these fishermen and hotel owners could have prevented this tragedy from happening to them. 

Do you know how all of these fishermen and hotel owners could have prevented this tragedy from happening to them? 

They could have studied hard in school and become CEO's of major oil companies. You know, I was reading this book the other day -- maybe you've heard of it -- it's called "On The Origin Species", and it was written about 150 years ago by a guy named Chuck Darwin, and it taught me about this little concept that they teach in your schools called Natural Selection, and in case you don't know what that means, it means that only the strong survive. And last I checked, I'm pretty fucking strong. And last I checked, I'm still in the mood to fucking survive.

You want BP to fire me? Listen brother, BP can fire me all it wants. In fact, I wish to what you call God that BP would fire me. You know what I'll do the day after I get fired? I'll fly my Lear 85 in to Charles de Gaulle, take a stretch straight to Allain Ducasse, eat a piece of Kobe straight off the live heifer, drink the coldest bottle of Clos Du Mesnil they've got, and then have a fucking eight-ball and a half dozen Viagra sent to my suite at Meurice and let the fucking fun begin! (pun INTENDED)

So relatively speaking, I have lost a whole helluva lot more than some fucking toothless asshole who happens to own a little three-room bed and breakfast in Cuntlip Alabama who's bitching about not serving as many fucking sausages this summer as he's used to because a little bit of oil happens to be leaking into the huge fucking Gulf. People piss in the Gulf every goddamn day, and I don't hear anyone bitching and moaning about that! Why don't we pull them off their boats and drag them into court and blame them for everything that's wrong with this fucking world? Ok? So lets just get this fucking shit over with because I want my goddamn life back."

So obviously although I think Hayward's comments were a bit extreme and somewhat insensitive, I guess I understand the point he was trying to make. (but for the record I completely disagree with it)