Can’t nothing live out in space. Not even germs. No atmosphere.
The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding in all of the directions it can whiz
as fast as it can go the speed of light you know twelve million miles a minute and thats the fastest speed there is
so remember when your feeling very small and insecure how amazingly unlikely is your birth
and pray that there intelligent life somewhere up in space cause theres bugger all down here on Earth.
The twins keep us on Centaurian time - standard thirty-seven hour day. Give it a few months. You’ll get used to it… or you’ll have a psychotic episode.
The fool, the meddling idiot! As though his ape’s brain could contain the secrets of the Krell!
Now let me correct you on a couple of things, OK? Aristotle was not Belgian. The central message of Buddhism is not “Every man for himself.” And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked them up.
The satellite is a present over Kansas. If we destroy Kansas the world may not hear about it for years.
I say we take off and nuke the site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.
Well, boys, I reckon this is it - nuclear combat toe to toe with the Roosskies. Now look, boys, I ain’t much of a hand at makin’ speeches, but I got a pretty fair idea that something doggone important is goin’ on back there. And I got a fair idea the kinda personal emotions that some of you fellas may be thinkin’. Heck, I reckon you wouldn’t even be human bein’s if you didn’t have some pretty strong personal feelin’s about nuclear combat. I want you to remember one thing, the folks back home is a-countin’ on you and by golly, we ain’t about to let 'em down.
You’re listening to a machine! Do the world a favor and don’t act like one.
Now I have a machine gun. Ho, ho, ho.
Where do you think you’re going? Nobody’s leaving. Nobody’s walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.
Aw come on, you’re not gonna say that now! You’re not gonna say that now! You’re gonna pull that hen house shit? Now when the vote… the Chief just voted - it was 10 to 9. Now I want that television set turned on right now!
Denied
I know you thought this was a managable situation, but some situations are unmanagable.
What we’ve got here is… failure to communicate. Some men, you just can’t reach. So, you get what we had here last week. Which is the way he wants it. Well, he gets it ! And I don’t like it any more than you, men.
Well, does that - does that mean my brothers are OK?
Dead as Dillinger.
Say 'ello to my l’il friend!
I crap bigger than you.
I’m not kiddin’. I’ve got a crap on deck that could choke a donkey. Aww, it’s SQUIDGY. Christ, I’m gettin’ all emotional from it, ya know?