In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power. Then when you get the power, then you get the women.
If you guys know so much about women, how come you’re here at like the Gas ‘n’ Sip on a Saturday night completely alone drinking beers with no women anywhere?
That’s because we’re uncool. And while women will always be a problem for us, most of the great art in the world is about that very same problem. Good-looking people don’t have any spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we’re smarter.
I need to tell you something about all your skills. As of right now, they mean precisely dick.
Let me tell you what “Like A Virgin” is about. It’s all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick.
Isn’t it awfully nice to have a penis? Isn’t it frightfully good to have a dong? It’s swell to have a stiffy, it’s divine to own a dick, from the tiniest little tadger to the world’s biggest prick.
So, 3 cheers for your Willie or John Thomas! Hurray for your 1-eyed trouser snake! Your piece of pork, your wife’s best friend, your Percy, or your cock. You can wrap it up in ribbons, you can slip it in your sock,
But don’t take it out in public or they’ll stick you in the dock, and you won’t come back. (THANK YOU VERY MUCH.)
I’m gonna walk down that stinkin’ runway, open up this faggot robe and wiggle my dick at 'em! And do you know why? Because I want you to have a heart-attack and die so we don’t have to do this shit again! You and your fucking fashion shows!
I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more to life than being really, really, ridiculously good looking. And I plan on finding out what that is.
You know, I think I understand what you’re like now. You’re very beautiful and you think men are only interested in you because you’re beautiful, But you want them to be interested in you because you’re YOU.
The problem is, aside from all that beauty, you’re not very interesting. You’re rude, you’re hostile, you’re sullen, you’re withdrawn… oh, I know you want someone to look past all that at the real person underneath. But the only reason anyone would bother to look past all that is because you’re beautful.
Ironic, isn’t it? In an odd way you’re your own problem.
There’s more to life than a little money, you know. Don’tcha know that? And here ya are, and it’s a beautiful day. Well. I just don’t understand it.
Fine. It’s a fucking joke anyway. After all, I am paying you with your money.
Fuck you. Pay me.
Uhhh… the sea monkeys have my money…
I want my two dollars!
You know, this place sure speaks of a lot of money. You know what the problem with money is? Somebody’s always trying to take it from you. Still, that’s the only problem. And ain’t that the awful, bloody truth?
First, you’ve got that bloody old fortress on top of that bloody cliff. Then you’ve got the bloody cliff overhang. You can’t even see the bloody cave, let alone the bloody guns. And anyway, we haven’t got a bloody bomb big enough to smash that bloody rock. And that’s the bloody truth, sir
When this is over, we’ll meet at Simpson’s, you can buy me lunch: roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, a nice little red wine.
And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, ‘O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy.’ And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu–
A dog is a fine meal.
Food is fuel. You get picky about what you put in the tank, your engine is gonna die.