Carine McCandless:
[voice-over] The year Chris graduated high school, he bought the Datsun used and drove it cross-country. He stayed away most of the summer. As soon as I heard he was home, I ran into his room to talk to him. In California, he'd looked up some old family friends. He discovered that our parents' stories of how they fell in love and got married were calculated lies masking an ugly truth. When they met, Dad was already married. And even after Chris was born, Dad had had another son with his first wife, Marcia, to whom he was still legally married. This fact suddenly redefined Chris and me as bastard children. Dad's arrogance made him conveniently oblivious to the pain he caused. And Mom, in the shame and embarassment of a young mistress, became his accomplice in deceit. The fragility of crystal is not a weakness but a fineness. My parents understood that a fine crystal glass had to be cared for or it may be shattered. But when it came to my brother, they did not seem to know or care that their course of secret action brought the kind of devastation that could cut them. Their fraudulent marriage and our father's denial of his other son was, for Chris, a murder of every day's truth. He felt his whole life turn, like a river suddenly reversing the direction of its flow, suddenly running uphill. These revelations struck at the core of Chris' sense of identity. They made his entire childhood seem like fiction. Chris never told them he knew and made me promise silence, as well.
President Kennedy:
[addressing the NPIC photograph analyst] Okay - let's have it.
NPIC Photo Interpreter:
Gentlemen, as most of you now know, a U-2 over Cuba Sunday morning took a series of disturbing photographs. Our analysis at NPIC indicates that the Soviet Union has followed up its conventional weapons build-up in Cuba with the introduction of surface-to-surface, medium-range ballistic missiles, or MRBMs. Our official estimate at this time is that the missile system is the SS-4 'Sandal'. We do not believe that the missiles are as yet operational. Iron Bark reports that the SS-4 can deliver a 3-megaton nuclear weapon 1,000 miles. So far we've identified 32 missiles serviced by about 3400 men, undoubtedly all Soviet personnel. Our cities and military installations in the southeast as far north as Washington, D.C., are in range of these weapons, and in the evnt of a launch would have only 5 minutes warning.
General Marshall Carter:
5 minutes, gentlemen.
Gen. Max Taylor:
In those 5 minutes, they could kill 80 million Americans - and destroy a significant percentage of our bomber bases, degrading our retaliatory options. The Joint Chiefs' consensus, Mr. President, is that this signals a major doctrinal shift in Soviet thinking - to a first-strike policy. It is a massively destabilizing move.
Robert Kennedy:
How long until they're operational?
NPIC Photo Interpreter:
General Carter can answer that question better than I can.
Gen. Max Taylor:
GMAC - Guided Missiles Intelligence Committee - estimates 10-14 days. A crash program could limit that time. However, I must stress that there may be more missiles - that we don't know about. We'll need more U-2 coverage.
President Kennedy:
Gentlemen, I want first reactions here. Assuming for the moment that Khruschev has NOT gone off the deep end - and intends to start World War 3 - what are we looking at?
Dean Rusk:
Mr. President, I believe my team is in agreement. If we permit the introduction of nuclear missiles to a Soviet satellite nation in our hemisphere, the diplomatic consequnces will be too terrible to contemplate. The Russians are trying to show the world they can do whatever they want, wherever they want, and we're powerless to stop them. If they succeed...
Robert Kennedy:
It'll be Munich all over again.
Dean Rusk:
Yes. Appeasement only makes the aggressor more aggressive. And the Soviets will be emboldened to push us even harder. Now we must remove the missiles one way or another. Now it seems to me the options are either some combination of international pressure & action on our part, until they give in - or - we hit them. An air strike.
Fred:
I've heard about physical attraction before, chemically I understand it but I've never experienced it.
Jane Bingum:
What, you've never had a crush?
Fred:
Up there all I meet are dead people.
Jane Bingum:
Well, forget it, okay? Stacey's out of your league. You'll be setting yourself up for a world of hurt.
Fred:
No no no, you don't understand! I look at this Stacey, and I, and I can't help it. I wanna, I wanna do her grocery shopping, wanna, wanna re-roof her house. I wanna... hunt animals and bring her the MEAT.
Reed Rothchild:
TODD... PARKER!
Todd Parker:
Rockin' Reed Rothchild!
Reed Rothchild:
You made it! Woo-Hoo!
Todd Parker:
Amazing party, man! Fuckin' chicks everywhere!
Reed Rothchild:
You bet. Compliments of Jack Horner. Thank you.
Todd Parker:
I wouldn't mind me having a piece of that action right over there.
Reed Rothchild:
Michelle; I'll introduce you.
Todd Parker:
Sure, introduce her to my lap!
Reed Rothchild:
Ha ha. You just get off of work, man?
Todd Parker:
Don't dance Sunday nights.
Reed Rothchild:
Right.
Todd Parker:
Who's 'vette is that out in the driveway?
Reed Rothchild:
DIRK! I'm so jealous.
Todd Parker:
That shit's jammin', man.
Todd Parker:
Start down low with a 350 cube, three and a quarter horsepower, 4-speed, 4:10 gears, ten coats of competition orange, hand-rubbed lacquer with a huplane manifold,
Todd Parker:
Full fuckin' race cams. Whoo!
Robert F. Kennedy:
[voiceover] This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives. It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours. Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet. No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason. Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded. "Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lose their cause and pay the costs." Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire. Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them. Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul. For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter. This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all. I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered. We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers. Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence. We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge. Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution. But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can. Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.
Mohtz:
That tattoo on your arm. Is that airborne?
Jonah:
The 182nd. Gulf War, 1991.
Mohtz:
Hmm. Mine here is the 405th Infantry. Outside of Da Nang, South Vietnam, 1968. Whole platoon got wiped out, but it wasn't Charlie.
Jonah:
You're shitting me. Friendly fire killed your whole platoon?
Mohtz:
No, no, not exactly. One night, me and the C.O. were pulling guard duty, and we're sharing a joint... Thai Stick. I'm really stoned. And all of a sudden, we see this streak of light across the sky. Zoom! Waaa! And it looks like it lands about two klicks northeast of camp. So the C.O. says, "I'm gonna check it out." I said, "go ahead, cap man". More doobie for me, you know. So off he goes and uh... it could have been 10 minutes or two hours. I don't know. I was stoned. But he comes back and I notice that he's acting weird. But now, oh... now, no problem, it's just the Thai Stick kicking in. Well man, pretty soon he starts jumping around like his pants are on fire. I'm not shittin' you. And he... off comes his pants. He rips them off. Rips his skivvies off. Now I got my C.O. standing there in front of me, buck naked from the waist down. And then something happened, man, that... uh... boot camp did not prepare me for. This guy's pecker... his dick, ripped itself off his body and slithered towards the tent. So, the C.O.'s screaming like hell before he expires. Pretty soon, I can't hear him because dozens of screams are coming from the tents where all the platoon was. Want to know what the hell it sounded like? I think it sounded like... 30 men getting massacred by a dick as it shoved itself through them in rapid speed. So, I went over and hid behind a rock for about an hour and had to listen to my whole platoon being murdered. I think I heard one guy getting a shot or two off, but he then screamed as he got killed too. So, after it stopped... I very cautiously, believe me, crept into the officers tent to get a radio to get some air support and... I see the dick lying there on a sleeping bag and it looks like it's looking right back at me. But it looked, you know, fucking weak, man. And it was like in this, you know, shriveled... what kind of period do you call it?
T.J.:
A refractory period. Happens just after sex.
Mohtz:
Yeah, yeah, you know, I could have killed it right then, but I was so stoned I was afraid that I'd miss. And on the other hand, I knew it was only a matter of time before... you know, it would be back in action again. So, without taking my eyes off it, I get on the radio and have them chopper in two Saigon whores. So, for the next half-hour, I'm holding my weapon on this dick lying on a sleeping back in the blood-splattered tent. Now, I figured it won't know I'm stoned, so he won't jump me, you know? So, the chopper arrived just in time, thank God, because now the dick was getting big and hard. So, I tell the two whores when they showed up in the tent, "look, hey, I'll do anything, man. I'll take you to the States, anything, if you just lie down there and spread your legs for me." Well, I guess "states" was the magic word because I never two Vietnamese whores taking off their panties and clothes so quickly in all your life. Now, the dick must have smelled dinner because... choo! It makes a beeline for the whores. So I watch, and I wait, and watch. Finally, finally it blows it's load, I grabbed it, and ran it outside the tent. I threw it in a bunker. God... Jesus Christ man! About 10 seconds later, out runs about 15 gooks. And I could have nailed any one of them but no, I made a priority decision. Threw in a grenade. Yelled, "fire in the hole!" Fa-foom! Well, guess what. Now it's raining dick. Yeah, raining dick! I crawled into a whisky bottle. I got back to the States and I've been in there ever since.
Rob Moore:
The last person to come out here and not know the password was found with an arrow in his forehead and burned to death. And do you know why he was found burned with an arrow in his head?
Jack Loot:
I got it! He was juggling apples, but there was this girl there and he really wanted to impress her. So he picked out some sharp arrows and started juggling those. Now, the girl was like, "Oh Honey, you're so brave, please be careful!" And he was all like, "Don't worry, I'm a trained professional, I do this all the time, baby!" But the thing is, he was also a chain smoker, so he had a cigarette hanging from his lips when he was saying all this. Next thing ya know, cigarette falls from his lips and goes under his shirt, catches fire - then while in mid-air, the arrow falls! He's so concerned about the fire in his shirt that he forgets about the arrows at first. But then he looks up and Wham! No longer is he just burning, but now he also has an arrow in his head! That's what happened, isn't it? That's the sad sick chain reaction of events that took that poor man's life, isn't it, Rob?
Rob Moore:
No, he gave an incorrect password!
Jack Loot:
Well that was my third choice.
O-Ren Ishii:
[after she cuts off Tanaka's head, in Japanese] So you all will know the seriousness of my warning, I shall say this in English.
O-Ren Ishii:
[in English] As your leader, I encourage you from time to time, and always in a respectful manner, to question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so, but allow me to convince you and I promise you right here and now, no subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here. Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time! [pause]
O-Ren Ishii:
I didn't think so.
O-Ren Ishii:
[calmly, in Japanese] Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.
Master Control:
[monitor activates] I am Master Control, computer of the future.
Billy:
Aaahh! [jumps on Grim's arms]
Grim:
That'd better be sweat dripping down your leg, boy.
Master Control:
I am programmed to run all of the machines at this attraction. My intelligence is beyond measure, I know everything there is to know, and I'm not too shabby at checkers.
Grim:
Wait, how can you know *everything*?
Master Control:
I just do, so there.
Grim:
If you know everything, then what's the meaning of life?
Master Control:
Life has no meaning, only machine intelligence is truly important on a cosmic scale.
Grim:
Hmm, I didn't think he'd get that one right.
Billy:
Oh, yeah? Then what's my favorite color?
Master Control:
Blue.
Billy:
What's the best kind of bean?
Master Control:
Pinto.
Billy:
Why is the sky blue?
Master Control:
Because of the refraction of sunlight through the water droplets in the sky.
Billy:
Why do I ask so many questions?
Master Control:
Because you're stupid!
Billy:
What's the color of my underwear?
Master Control:
White... [raises an eyebrow]
Master Control:
... with pink frilly lace.
Billy:
[checks in his pants] Wow. It really does know everything.
[a hotel employee hands Nick Schaffer his bill]
Nick Schaffer:
What's this $110?
Hotel Clerk:
Those are your in-room movies.
Nick Schaffer:
No, I didn't watch any movies.
Hotel Clerk:
Okay, let's see... Afro Whores.
Nick Schaffer:
Afro Whores?
Hotel Clerk:
You watched it... let's see... uh, 11 times.
Nick Schaffer:
No, no, no...
Hotel Clerk:
Afro Whores, 2:30. Afro Whores, 4 o'clock. Afro Whores, 5:30. It says in the morning you watched The Grinch for ten minutes and then switched back over to Afro Whores.
Nick Schaffer:
I swear I didn't watch it. Okay? I was at a bachelor party. There were 35 people there. You can ask any of them. You have to take that off my record.
Hotel Clerk:
This is not a record, sir.
Nick Schaffer:
It... It's a delete.
Hotel Clerk:
Okay, fine. How many times *did* you watch it?
Nick Schaffer:
None! I didn't watch it!
Hotel Clerk:
Are you sure? "Sizzling, three-way, backdoor action featuring two sexy soul sisters... ”
Nick Schaffer:
[screaming] I don't need to know what it's about! I did not watch it! I didn't. [hotel clerk raises her eyebrows]
Josh:
[after confessing his feelings to Jessica, he kisses her] So I guess I'd like to know if you have some sort of reaction to this. More specifically, do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night? [she doesn't respond at first, and Josh adopts a look of defeat and embarrassment]
Josh:
Well, if you'll excuse me, I definitely need another drink.
Jessica:
[she stops him] No, wait. I'd love to have dinner with you, but I can't.
Josh:
What? Not the season?
Jessica:
[laughs nervously] No. I mean I cant have dinner with you because I'm with Helen.
Josh:
Oh, you're having dinner with Helen?
Jessica:
No. I mean I'm *with* Helen.
Josh:
[he looks at her in disbelief] Like *with* with Helen?
Jessica:
Right *with* with.
Helen:
[Helen enters from the stairwell] Jessica, they're starting to serve dinner. [Jessica exits]
Helen:
Hey, Josh.
Josh:
[still can't believe what he's just heard] Helen... [beat]
Josh:
how are you?
Helen:
[smiles] I'm good thanks. [she exits]
Mooj:
[talking to a customer] This is a great TV. Nothing beats a plasma.
Jay:
What are you doing? That's my customer.
Mooj:
It certainly is not. When I came upon her, she was unattended
Jay:
No, no, that's my... She was unattended because I went to the back to get the brochure she requested.
Mooj:
I apologize, but it's too late. The transaction is completed.
Jay:
Then you gonna give me half the commission.
Mooj:
You will receive none of the commission.
Jay:
I need to talk to Paula. This is crazy, man!
Mooj:
This is bullshit! Every time I make a sale, you go crying to Paula. How about... how about Jesse Jackson? Oh, Jesse, he needs a call...
Jay:
I'm sick of you poaching my customers.
Mooj:
I'm sick of your crybaby bullshit!
Jay:
You wanna take this shit outside? You wanna just take it outside and just squash it?
Mooj:
Let's stay inside so everybody can see what a pussy you have, okay? Because when I remove the blade I keep in my boot from its sheath, I cannot return it until it has spilt blood.
Jay:
Listen to me, listen to me! You are fucking with the wrong nigger.
Mooj:
Hey, hey! You are fucking with the wrong sand nigger, okay?
Jay:
I will hang your old ass by your turban!
Mooj:
[Mooj has a very definite Indian accent] Oh, turban, now! Do you see any fucking turban here? Do I talk like a turban guy? Do I say, "Hey, Jay, you want a slurpee? You want a slurpee?" Fuck you, okay? I was born in Brooklyn. Brooklyn, okay? My accent is a fucking Brooklyn accent, okay? Okay?
Jay:
All right, man. Calm down, dude! Look... you still covering my shift on Friday or what?
Mooj:
If I can keep this commission... with pleasure.
Jay:
Cool, man. All right, pops. [They hug; Jay leaves]
Mickey Gravatski:
Remember when I asked you if you could stop killing? And you said that if the seeds that were buried in darkness were never plant...
James Lemac:
...were never planted, that I might be able to capture the innocence that I never had.
Mickey Gravatski:
Yeah. I wondered, who planted those seeds?
James Lemac:
Hmm
Mickey Gravatski:
She took you down there and left you there, huh?
James Lemac:
Who? What are you talking about?
Mickey Gravatski:
Did you take me down to that cellar to justify what you do?
James Lemac:
Not everything is for your fuckin' benefit, Mick.
Mickey Gravatski:
Right. ya know it just seems like...
James Lemac:
It seems like what? What? What you think I'm killin' my mother?
Mickey Gravatski:
Yeah. It's obvious. I mean in your mind you think you are. But in reality you're killing innocent women.
James Lemac:
Look do me a favor, all right? Remove those eight women from the equation, what do ya got?
Mickey Gravatski:
Wait, how do you remove eight women laying in pools of their own blood, with their eyes taken out?
James Lemac:
Am I beneath compassion?
Mickey Gravatski:
What? What compassion did you have?
James Lemac:
Look I'm just asking you. Just try to remove them from the equation. If you remove them from the equation...
Mickey Gravatski:
It's not an equation! It's not an equation, it's life! It's body identifications. It's funerals. It's families torn apart. It's moms taking sleeping pills, praying to God that when they wake up their daughters are still alive.
James Lemac:
Ya know what's confusing you? You see parts of me in yourself, and that makes me human.
Mickey Gravatski:
You're fuckin' nuts.
James Lemac:
No, I'm not nuts. But you also see yourself in me. The potential we all have.
Mickey Gravatski:
"Potential." Potential is not action, action is what defines us.
James Lemac:
You gotta ask yourself one question. You gotta ask yourself if you still wanna find the human behind the monster. Because if you don't, this whole documentary is a waste. Come on, ya hungry?
Mickey Gravatski:
Sh-yeah, I haven't had an appetite since I met you.
Natalie:
[Frank plays with blocks while Natalie relaxes in a beach chair] Hey... You know I've been ignoring our difference in age but you keep playing with those blocks, I'm gonna start to worry.
Frank Fowler:
You're not looking at the house. Look. [Natalie moves closer to Frank]
Frank Fowler:
It's not all mine, it's part Mack. See, the whole idea of what Mack was trying to achieve was a common area in the center of the house. I mean, large, open spaces- they weren't unique to Mack but the idea of seperating the family so that the parents were on one side and the kids on the other, so... they'll all spill into the center. It's... brilliant. I'm boring you, aren't I?
Natalie:
[shakes her head] No. I was just thinking.
Frank Fowler:
About what?
Natalie:
About you. School.
Frank Fowler:
What if I wait another year?
Natalie:
Frank...
Frank Fowler:
A year is not going to make...
Natalie:
[shakes her head] No. You can't do that, Frank.
Frank Fowler:
Why not? I have thought a lot about this. I have, and...
Natalie:
No. You told me it takes forever to establish yourself.
Frank Fowler:
Exactly. So, what's a year in forever?
Natalie:
[pauses] It's twisted logic. [starts to laugh]
Frank Fowler:
You know what Duncan said to me today?
Natalie:
Oh, you wouldn't be changing the subject, would you?
Frank Fowler:
He said, "Frank, I don't think Jason really understands girls."
Natalie:
Oh, he didn't. [laughs]
Frank Fowler:
"Understands girls".
Natalie:
Well, what'd you say?
Frank Fowler:
I didn't know what to say to that. I said... I said "give him time, Duncan, he'll come around." If this is how he is now, then we're in trouble. [long pause]
Frank Fowler:
What is this, Action Man?
Natalie:
Yeah. Richard gave it to Dunc for his birthday. [Richard pulls up]
Celine:
Yeah.
Jesse:
OK, well this was my thought: 50,000 years ago, there are not even a million people on the planet. 10,000 years ago, there's, like, two million people on the planet. Now there's between five and six billion people on the planet, right? Now, if we all have our own, like, individual, unique soul, right, where do they all come from? You know, are modern souls only a fraction of the original souls? 'Cause if they are, that represents a 5,000 to 1 split of each soul in the last 50,000 years, which is, like, a blip in the Earth's time. You know, so at best we're like these tiny fractions of people, you know, walking... I mean, is that why we're so scattered? You know, is that why we're all so specialized?
Celine:
I don't know. Wait a minute, I'm not sure... I don't...
Jesse:
Yeah, hang on, hang on. It's a, it's a totally scattered thought. It... which is kind of why it makes sense.
Carolyn Carmichael:
Damn it, Woody, you bounced another check.
Woody Carmichael:
I thought we had it covered. I'll get some money.
Carolyn Carmichael:
When?
Woody Carmichael:
When? What do you think I'm doing right here? Gem, Let me just finish this music.
Carolyn Carmichael:
That's what I've always done. The problem is your music's not bringing anything into the house but music.
Woody Carmichael:
Gem, the money will come.
Carolyn Carmichael:
I'm waiting. I'm back teaching school again, and I am waiting, Woody.
Woody Carmichael:
Just keep doing what you're doing, Gem. Now you know it wasn't always like this. I made money before. I'll make money again.
Carolyn Carmichael:
I trust you, but you have got to realize we are on a limited budget. I am trying to balance everything and when you go and write checks and you don't tell me about it, it makes it extremely difficult.
Woody Carmichael:
As God is my witness, I want the best for you and the children. But I have got to do it in my own way. [He gets up from his piano]
Woody Carmichael:
Lookit [He gives her a hug]
Woody Carmichael:
Cool?
Carolyn Carmichael:
Cool. I went out and opened a separate back account.
Woody Carmichael:
[He backs away] That's supposed to get some kind of reaction from me? What is that supposed to prove?
Carolyn Carmichael:
I don't know what it proves. I'm interested in putting food on the table and keeping a roof over our kids' heads.
Woody Carmichael:
[Woody goes to the far end of the living room and sits in a small chair] Boy! You know, you really kill me. I mean, on the one hand, you come down here telling me about yet another mistake Woody done made. But when I'm sitting at that piano trying to do my work, trying to concentrate, you won't let me do that either. You got a beef with that. I don't know what to do.
Carolyn Carmichael:
You can get up off my chair. [He gets up and walks about]
Carolyn Carmichael:
I don't want to hear about your mistakes, You keep track of those. I don't have time. All I ask you to do is to write down when you spend the money I am making.
Woody Carmichael:
I told you it was a legitimate mistake
Carolyn Carmichael:
I appreciate that, but you have made that mistake five times this month. I just want you to change the pattern.
Woody Carmichael:
I don't need no lecture from you about how to conduct myself in this house!
Carolyn Carmichael:
I'm not giving you a lecture. I am asking you to help me conduct the business affairs of this family! You're an adult
Woody Carmichael:
What the HELL DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO?
Carolyn Carmichael:
I don't know what you're doing!
Woody Carmichael:
I know you don't. Well, let me tell you, I got to be like a thief in the night in this house every time I want to get some privacy to do my work!
Carolyn Carmichael:
You selfish child! Don't tell me about privacy!
Woody Carmichael:
Selfish nothing! Selfish nothing!
Carolyn Carmichael:
Yes, you are selfish! I can't even take a piss without six people hanging off my tits!
Josh:
You know Stein, why don't you cut yourself a break. It's obviously not the time to be meeting someone anyway.
Jessica:
[sarcastically] Really? What? Not the season?
Josh:
No. It's just because you're clearly not open to it.
Jessica:
[laughs] Excuse me? I'm sorry. How would you know?
Josh:
Well, I do have a little history to draw from. But even if I didn't, you've known Charles here for about an hour and in that time you've dismissed a panoply of men based on factors as reductive as a linguistic misstep, a different view from yours on going dutch, a kind reaction to your legendary lateness, and a genuine interest in yoga. You know, I think it was Anais Nin who said, "We don't see things as they are. We see things as we are." [chuckles]
Josh:
Generally I'm not much of a Nin fan, but I do feel that bit sums you up to a "T", Stein. So I don't think the problem's with these poor men, these freaks and morons, as you put it. I think the problem is with you.
George:
Let's go get something to eat, Rick, then I'll drive the bus for awhile.
Rick:
I need you to do me a favor, George.
George:
Rick, you can't drive the Spotted Owl the whole way, now.
Rick:
That's not it. If the base calls in, you tell them I got sick.
George:
Why?
Rick:
Because I'm not coming back.
George:
Shit, what the hell do you mean you're not coming back?
Rick:
I can't do it.
George:
Oh come on, stop bullshitting, you're just trying to go to Graceland.
Rick:
I'd be safer there.
George:
Meaning what, what do you think we're going to do, put you in a pot of boiling water and have you for supper?
Rick:
You already got the damn African drums in there.
George:
You know Rick, that's the epitome of cultural disrespect. I could come back at you with something anti-Semitic or I could whip your ass, which would you prefer, Rick?
Rick:
I'm sorry. Alright, George, here it is. Maybe I am a little bit prejudiced against blacks but no more than you're prejudiced against white people. You want me to stay on and prove how liberal and shit I am? I don't have to prove anything to anybody. I mean I think affirmative action has been fucked up. I think OJ was guilty, he's a cold blooded murderer who slaughtered two innocent human beings, okay. There it is.
George:
I'll bet you wish there were more white players in the NBA, too, huh? Well okay, let's just get it out in the open. I'll bet you'd like to call me a nigger or, what do you call it, a schvartze, or whatever the fuck it is. Well, I'm going to allow you to say it, go ahead.
Rick:
I never called anybody that in my life. All I'm saying is that if this bus is going to the Farrakhan march, I can't be a part of that.
George:
This is not just Farrakhan's march.
Rick:
I don't want to debate this thing. He called Judaism a gutter religion; he said Hitler was a great man. I wouldn't expect you to drive a bus to a Ku Klux Klan rally, so don't expect me to do this.
George:
So now you're comparing this to a Klan rally.
Rick:
Look George, either you're going to kick my ass, you're going to cover for me or I'm going to get fired. But no way am I getting my white ass back in that bus, so what's it going to be?
George:
Well, if you feel that way, then you shouldn't get your white ass back on that bus. I'll cover for you, Rick. See you in LA.
Rick:
Thanks, George.
Minister:
Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.
[Kevin and Julia are talking in front of a group of junior high school students]
Female Student:
Is there much interaction between the two campaings? I mean, between Democrats and Republicans?
Kevin:
[to Julia] Ah, I believe this is your area.
Julia:
Uh, it's discouraged for campaigns to interact. For instance, if one speechwriter were to date another, they might reveal something crucial about the campaign. Some campaigns have spies for just this purpose, whose job it is to follow the speechwriter, and to seduce her--
Kevin:
--Or him--
Julia:
--Into revealing her secrets.
Kevin:
On the other hand, some speechwriters have the tendency to become what is known as "paranoid," and just because someone seems interested in her doesn't mean they're after her "secrets."
Julia:
Still, it's not paranoid to become suspicious of a "chance" encounter which isn't really chance--
Kevin:
--Or someone lying about the work she does. A good speechwriter could protect herself from this situation by not flirting, you know, not sniffing around like a cat in heat.
Julia:
Or she might tell the other speechwriter to his face, "Peddle your shit elsewhere, scumbag."
John Hammond:
You know the first attraction I ever built when I came down south from Scotland? Was a Flea Circus, Petticoat Lane. Really quite wonderful. We had a wee trapeze, a roundabout - - a merry-go - - what you call it? A carousel - - and a seesaw. They all moved, motorized of course, but people would swear they could see the fleas. "I see the fleas, mummy! Can't you see the fleas?" Clown fleas, high wire fleas, fleas on parade... But with this place, I - - I wanted to give them something real, something that wasn't an illusion, something they could see and touch. An aim devoid of merit.
