Randy: You wanta know the truth?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You got a handle on that, do you, Randy?
Randy: He was an asshole before.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Whoo-ah!
Randy: Now all he is is a blind asshole.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Whoo-ah.
Randy: Hey, God's a funny guy.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: God doth have a sense of humor.
Randy: Maybe God thinks some people don't deserve to see.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Whoo-ah. Hah!

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: [Frank plans to kill himself and Charlie as well but hesitates] You don't wanna die.
Charlie Simms: Neither do you.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Give me one good reason not to.
Charlie Simms: I'll give you two. You can dance the tango and drive a Ferrari better than anyone I've ever seen.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You never seen anyone do either.

C'mon you miserable blind motherfucker let's do it.

Charlie Simms

Well, gentlemen, when the shit hits the fan, some guys run and some guys stay.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

When in doubt... fuck.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

The day we stop lookin', Charlie, is the day we die.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Don't shrug, imbecile. I'm blind. Save your body language for the bimbi.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Out of order, I show you out of order. You don't know what out of order is, Mr. Trask. I'd show you, but I'm too old, I'm too tired, I'm too fuckin' blind. If I were the man I was five years ago, I'd take a FLAMETHROWER to this place! Out of order? Who the hell do you think you're talkin' to? I've been around, you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen. Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs, but I say you are... executin' his soul! And why? Because he's not a Bairdman. Bairdmen. You hurt this boy, you're gonna be Baird bums, the lot of ya. And Harry, Jimmy, Trent, wherever you are out there, FUCK YOU TOO!

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Tickets. Money. Speech. Old Washington joke... from my days with Lyndon.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Just call me Frank. Call me Mr. Slade. Call me... Colonel, if you must, just don't call me 'Sir'.
Charlie Simms: All right. Colonel.

You sharpshootin' me, punk? Is that what you're doin'? Don't you sharpshoot me! You'll give me forty. Then you're gonna give me forty more. Then you're gonna pull K.P., the grease pit! I'll rub your NOSE in enlisted men's CRUD till you don't know WHICH END IS UP! YOU UNDERSTAND?

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Your father pedals car telephones at a 300 percent markup. Your mother works on heavy commission at a camera store. Graduated to it from espresso machines. Hah!
[pause]
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: What are you, dying of some wasting disease?
Charlie Simms: No, I'm right - I'm right here.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I know exactly where your body is. What I'm looking for is some indication of a brain. Too much football without a helmet? Hah! Lyndon's line on Gerry Ford. Deputy debriefer, Paris, peace talks, '68. Snagged a silver star and a silver bar. Threw me into G-2.
Charlie Simms: G-2?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Intelligence. Of which you have none.

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