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

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

It's a great day for singing a song / It's a great day for moving along / It's a great day for morning to night / It's a great day for everybody's plight.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Can't believe they're my blood. I.Q. of sloths and the manners of banshees. He's a mechanic, she's a homemaker. He knows as much about cars as a beauty queen, and she bakes cookies, taste like wing nuts. As for the tots, they're twits.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: [Randy brings Frank a glass of whiskey] Thank you Randy. You still with Snowqueen Sugar?
Randy: Snowflake. How come you always get that wrong?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Because it's not important for me to get it right.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Haven't you heard? CONSCIENCE is daihed.
Charlie Simms: No, I haven't heard.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, then, take the fuckin' WAX outta your ears! GROW UP! It's fuck your buddy. Cheat on your wife. Call your mother on Mother's Day. Charlie, it's all shit.

[Slade knew her face cleanser, by scent]
Donna: Ah, that's amazing.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, I'm in the amazing business.

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

Charlie Simms

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.

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.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I don't know if Charlie's silence here today is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury. But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out to buy his future!

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: How's your skin, son?
Charlie Simms: My skin, sir?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Oh, for Christ's sake.

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Scent of a Woman Quotes

[Lt. Col. Frank Slade is speaking in defense of Charlie Simms at meeting at the Baird School] Now I have come to the cross-roads in my life. I always knew what the right path was. Without exception, I knew, but I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard. Now here's Charlie. He's come to the cross-roads. He has chosen a path. It's the right path. It's a path made of principle that leads to character. Let him continue on his journey.

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