Oh, no no. Don't tell me. You have invaded the female nation and spread your democracy.

Vaughn Haige

Mark: Why'd you scratch his C D?
Steve Barker: Jeffy just admiring it.
Mark: Do it again and you'll be admiring my butt from the pavement with a straw.
Steve Barker: ... What?
Mark: You heard me!

Stinky Pete the Prospector: Idiots! Children destroy toys. You'll be ruined, forgotten, spending eternity rotting on some landfill.
Woody: Well, Stinky Pete, I think it's time you learned the true meaning of playtime.

I love weed. LOVE IT. Probably always will! But not as much as I love pussy! The end.

Thurgood Jenkins

Come on you fiend!

Raoul Duke

Hell of a damn grave. Wish it were mine.


J.D.: Do you want anything to drink?
Judith: Scotch on the rocks
J.D.: Do you want ice with that?

Officer Martone: [notices the jail door keys in the jail door, and Jackson sitting inside the cell reading a book] Hey, Jackson's trying to escape!
Tarik: What are you talking about? I'm just sitting here.
Officer Reilly: He's trying to break free! Get him!
Tarik: Aw, shit.
[gets up and spread eagles on the cell wall, while still holding the book in one hand]
Officer Martone: Don't move. Stop resisting! We need back up now! He's got a gun!
Tarik: That's not a gun, that's a book.
Officer Reilly: Secure the book!
Officer Palumbo: Book is secure. You bring this filth
[book is on human rights]
Officer Palumbo: in here? What is this shit?

Brandi: Suitor number 3, is your kiss like a soft breeze, a firm handshake or a jackhammer?
Gil Hicks: Definitely a jackhammer, I'm in there with some pressure and when I'm done, you're not the same as before. You're changed.
Brodie: Where do you come up with this shit? That's the cheesiest response to an honest question I have ever heard. I saw you kiss and it wasn't anything like that.
Bob Summers: [Chuckling] Suitor #2, you'll have to wait until you're addressed before you respond.
Brodie: Richard Dawson, why don't you just go back to your podium until it's time to play The Feud. All right?
[Audience laughs]
Gil Hicks: Who the hell did you see me kiss?
Brodie: Some dude backstage. I don't know who he was but he seemed unimpressed.
Gil Hicks: I didn't kiss any guy backstage. I swear. I'm not gay.
Brodie: Hey, Suitorette, this guys a homophobe. You heard how repulsed he sounded. Is this the kind of guy you want to spend a vacation with? This hate-monger?
Gil Hicks: I don't hate gay people.
Brodie: So you love them?
Gil Hicks: Yes. I mean no.
Brodie: Textbook closet case self-loather. Can't be comfortable with his own sexuality.

I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the fear.

Dr. Gonzo

How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?

Raoul Duke

On November 1st, 1959, the population of New York City was 8,042,783. If you laid all these people end to end, figuring an average height of five feet six and a half inches, they would reach from Times Square to the outskirts of Karachi, Pakistan. I know facts like this because I work for an insurance company - Consolidated Life of New York. We're one of the top five companies in the country. Our home office has 31,259 employees, which is more than the entire population of uhh... Natchez, Mississippi. I work on the 19th floor. Ordinary Policy Department, Premium Accounting Division, Section W, desk number 861.

C.C. Baxter

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