You're an emotional fucking cripple. Your soul is dog shit. Every single fucking thing about you is ugly.


Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa!


Willie: You can't drink worth shit.
Marcus: I weigh 92 pounds, you dick!

Percy: Where are we?
Inez: This is Little Havana.
Percy: Like in Grand Theft Auto?

Riva: Look, if you bought Stones tickets and Jagger didn't play Satisfaction, how would you feel? Would you be happy?
Carl Casper: No.
Riva: No! You'd burn the place to the fucking ground.

I may not do everything great in my life, but I'm good at this. I manage to touch people's lives with what I do and I want to share this with you.

Carl Casper

Clark: I'm just trying to treat my family to a little fun.
Ellen Griswold: Oh spare me, Clark, I know your brand of family fun. Tomorrow you'll probably kill the desk clerk, hold up a McDonalds, and drive us 1000 miles out of the way to see the world's largest pile of mud!

Oh Ellen, the old west was dirty. Everything isn't like home. If everything were like home, there would be no reason for leaving home. Right, Rusty?


Why aren't we flying? Because getting there is half the fun. You know that.


Clark Griswald: So, this is the old homestead, eh?
Cousin Eddie: Yeah. I don't know for how much longer, though. The bank's been after me like flies on a rib roast.

Audrey Griswold: [Looking at Vicki's trophy for hog raising] Uh, don't take this personally, Vicki; but being a farmer isn't too cool you know.
Cousin Vicki: Oh, yeah? Well, how cool is this?

Clark: We're from out of town.
Man Giving Directions: No shit.

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