Principal:
Mr. Madison, the Industrial Revolution changed the face of the modern novel forever. Discuss, citing specific examples. [Billy clears his throat several times]
Billy Madison:
Uh... Okay. The Industrial Revolution to me is just like a story I know called "The Puppy Who Lost His Way." The world was changing, and the puppy was getting... bigger. [Later]
Billy Madison:
So, you see, the puppy was like industry. In that, they were both lost in the woods. And nobody, especially the little boy - "society" - knew where to find 'em. Except that the puppy was a dog. But the industry, my friends, that was a revolution. [Long pause]
Billy Madison:
Knibb High football rules! [the crowd erupts into cheers]
Principal:
Mr. Madison, what you have just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.
Billy Madison:
Okay, a simple "wrong" would've done just fine.
The Coroner:
On gross pathology, we have a female Caucasian between sixteen and thirty. The cadaver is presented in two halves with bisection level with the umbilicus. Through and through lacerations of both mouth corners. No visible bruising on the neck. Rectangular abrasions on the wing tips of the sphenoid bones. And, oh! A puncture wound, here, in the palm. On the palm of the right hand. Investigation of upper half abdominal cavity reveals no free-flowing blood. Intestines, stomach, spleen, liver - all removed.
Russ Millard:
Is it all right to smoke, doctor?
The Coroner:
She won't mind. Lower half of cadaver reveals removal of all reproductive organs. Both legs broken at the knee. Questions?
Russ Millard:
What's your best guess?
The Coroner:
Well, here's what she wasn't - she wasn't raped and she wasn't pregnant. In terms of the nitty gritty, the cause of death is either the mouth wound here or she was beaten to death with something like a baseball bat.
Lee Blanchard:
What about her insides?
The Coroner:
They came out posthumously. I'd say then he drained the blood from the body and washed it clean, probably in a bathtub.
Roberta Hertzel:
You already know how famously they get along as friends, but did you know that their sex life is positively white hot? The main reason both of my marriages failed was sexual. I'm an extremely sexual person, I can't help it, it just how I'm wired, you know, even when I was a little girl. I had my first orgasm when I was 6 in ballet class. Anyway, the point is that I have been always very easily aroused and very orgasmic, Jeannie and I have a lot in common that way. Clifford and Larry, they were nice guys, but they just could not keep up with me. Anyway, I don't want to betray Jeannie's confidence, but let me just assure you that whatever problems those two kids may run into along the way, they will always be able to count on what happens between the sheets to keep them together. More soup?
Warren Schmidt:
Eh... no, I think I'm fine now.
But he had never seen Myrna in practice...never that close up. He had been impressed and a little frightened by the contrast between seeing ballet on stange, where everyone seemed to either glide or mince effortlessly on the tips of their pointes. and seeing it from less than five feet away, with harsh daylight pouring in the floor-to-ceiling windows and no music- only the choreographer rythmically clapping his hands and yelling harsh criticisms. No praise, only criticisms. Their faces ran with sweat. Their leotards were wet with sweat. The room, as large and airy as it way, stank of sweat. Sleek muscles trembled and fluttered on the nervous edge of exhaustion. Corded tendons stood out like insulated cables. Throbbing veins popped out on foreheads and necks. Except for the choreographer's clapping and angry, hectoring shouts, the only sounds were the thrup-thud of ballet dancers on pointe moving across the floor and harsh, agonized panting for breath. Jack had suddenly realized that these dancers were not just earning a living, they were killing themselves. Most of all he remembered their expressions- all that exhausted concentration, all that pain... but transcending the pain, or at least creeping around its edges, he had seen joy. Joy was unmistakably what that look was, and it scared Jack because it had seemed inexplicable.
Jimmy Dugan:
Taking a little day trip?
Dottie Hinson:
No, Bob and I are driving home. To Oregon.
Jimmy Dugan:
[long pause] You know, I really thought you were a ballplayer.
Dottie Hinson:
Well, you were wrong.
Jimmy Dugan:
Was I?
Dottie Hinson:
Yeah. It is only a game, Jimmy. It's only a game, and, and, I don't need this. I have Bob; I don't need this. At all.
Jimmy Dugan:
I, I gave away five years at the end my career to drink. Five years. And now there isn't anything I wouldn't give to get back any one day of it.
Dottie Hinson:
Well, we're different.
Jimmy Dugan:
Shit, Dottie, if you want to go back to Oregon and make a hundred babies, great, I'm in no position to tell anyone how to live. But sneaking out like this, quitting, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Baseball is what gets inside you. It's what lights you up, you can't deny that.
Dottie Hinson:
It just got too hard.
Jimmy Dugan:
It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great.
Maureen Cummings:
If this is what I wanted, I wouldn't be as unhappy as I've been. I'd have friends, I'd sleep well, I wouldn't throw up half the things that I eat.
Nancy Cummings:
You watch your weight, there's nothing wrong with that!
Maureen Cummings:
Mom, I'm telling you I'm unhappy and sick. I can't do this any more!
Nancy Cummings:
But it's your dream. You just don't give up on your dream.
Maureen Cummings:
It's your dream, and it matters more to you than anything ever did to me. So I did it, but I can't any more.
Nancy Cummings:
I know what regret feels like, and I don't want that for you.
Maureen Cummings:
That's what ballet would be... a life of wishing that I found something I loved, instead of something I just happened to do well. I'm not you, Mom. You didn't have the feet. I don't have the heart.
Conor O'Neill:
Good morning. Um, Gerius was a player on the Kekemas baseball team I coach. Honestly he, uh, he was too young to play. But he wanted to be a part of the team so badly, I couldn't say no. He had a great smile too though I'm not telling you anything you don't know. He was a really tough guy. Just a boy really who, uh, wanted to be around his older brother. The other day we played a really important game against a good team. And two outs in the last inning, I had no choice but to let Gerius bat. He was fearless as he stepped to the plate. I was terrified for him. With two strikes and our hopes dwindling, he hit a shot down the first base line. He won the game. And watching him raise his arms in triumph as he ran to first base, I swear I was lifted in that moment to a better place. I swear he, uh, he lifted the world in that moment. He made me a better person, even if just for that moment. I am, uh, forever grateful to Gerius for that.
[Noticing Dr. Evil's spaceship on radar]
Radar Operator:
Colonel, you better have a look at this radar.
Colonel:
What is it, son?
Radar Operator:
I don't know, sir, but it looks like a giant...
Jet Pilot:
Dick. Dick, take a look out of starboard.
Co-Pilot:
Oh my God, it looks like a huge...
Bird-Watching Woman:
Pecker.
Bird-Watching Man:
[raising binoculars] Ooh, Where?
Bird-Watching Woman:
Over there. What sort of bird is that? Wait, it's not a woodpecker, it looks like someone's...
Army Sergeant:
Privates. We have reports of an unidentified flying object. It has a long, smooth shaft, complete with...
Baseball Umpire:
Two balls. [looking up from game]
Baseball Umpire:
What is that. It looks just like an enormous...
Chinese Teacher:
Wang. pay attention.
Wang:
I was distracted by that giant flying...
Musician:
Willie.
Willie:
Yeah?
Musician:
What's that?
Willie:
[squints] Well, that looks like a huge...
Colonel:
Johnson.
Radar Operator:
Yes, sir?
Colonel:
Get on the horn to British Intelligence and let them know about this.
[Casper sitting on his old sled, takes his baseball cap off]
Casper:
I begged and begged my dad to give me this sled, but he acted like I couldn't even have it, because I didn't know how to ride it. But then one morning, I came down for breakfast and there it was, just for me, for no reason at all. I took it out, went sledding all day. And my dad said "that's enough" but I couldn't stop, I was having so much fun It got late, got dark, got cold...and I got sick, and my dad got sad.
Kat:
What's it like to die?
Casper:
Like... being born, only backwards. I remember, I didn't go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind, so my dad wouldn't be lonely.
Dr. Herbert West:
The feet of a young ballet dancer, who ended her life when she lost her ambition. These legs... walked the streets. You remember the hooker who was killed in ER by her pimp last week? Think of all the bodies these legs have wrapped around. What was the value of her life, to end up being picked apart by the likes of Dr. Graves and his bumbling students? And here, the womb of the virgin, struck down before tasting the pleasures of life, you remember? Her skin, so soft, so warm, but so cold in death. The arms of the waitress. The lawyers hand - case dismissed. Look at this delicate piece, what do you think? A sculptress? A harpist? Would you believe, a murderess? But they're all equal now, nothing but cast off remnants of a meaningless existence.
George Carlin:
Human beings will do anything, anything. I am convinced. That's why when all those beheadings started in Iraq, it didn't bother me. A lot of people here were horrified, "Whaaaa, beheadings! Beheadings!" What, are you fucking surprised? Just one more form of extreme human behavior. Besides, who cares about some mercenary civilian contractor from Oklahoma who gets his head cut off? Fuck 'em. Hey Jack, you don't want to get your head cut off? Stay the fuck in Oklahoma. They ain't cuttin' off heads in Oklahoma, far as I know. But I do know this: you strap on a gun and go struttin' around some other man's country, you'd better be ready for some action, Jack. People are touchy about that sort of thing. And let me ask you this... this is a moral question, not rhetorical, I'm looking for the answer: what is the moral difference between cuttin' off one guy's head, or two, or three, or five, or ten - and dropping a big bomb on a hospital and killing a whole bunch of sick kids? Has anybody in authority given you an explanation of the difference? Now, in case you're wondering why I have a certain interest, or fascination let's call it, with torture and beheadings and all of those things I have mentioned, is because each of these items reminds me in life over and over again what beasts we human beings really are. When you get right down to it, human beings are nothing more than ordinary jungle beasts. Savages. No different from the Cro Magnon people who lived twenty five thousand years ago. No different. Our DNA hasn't changed substantially in a hundred thousand years. We're still operating out of the lower brain. The reptilian brain. Fight or flight. Kill or be killed. We like to think we've evolved and advanced because we can build a computer, fly an airplane, travel underwater, we can write a sonnet, paint a painting, compose an opera. But you know something? We're barely out of the jungle on this planet. Barely out of the fucking jungle. What we are, is semi-civilized beasts, with baseball caps and automatic weapons.
