The solid gold Cadillac. Well, we had to call it something.
Meanwhile, the more fortunate in Flint were holding their annual Great Gatsby party at the home of one of GM’s founding families. To show that they weren’t totally insensitive to the plight of others, they hired local people to be human statues at the party.
That’s easy for you to say. You’re a mannequin, you’ll always have work.
My mama no raise no dummies. I dug her rap!
Yes. The fourteen steps down and the unbroken seals were thrilling. But when we came to handle all her clothes and her jewels and her toilet things - you know they buried everything with them that they used in life? - well, when we came to unwrap the girl herself… Well after we’d worked among her things, I felt as if I’d known her. But when we got the wrappings off, and I saw her face… you’ll think me silly, but I sort of fell in love with her.
Love means never having to say you’re sorry.
That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
Look! I have one job on this lousy ship, it’s stupid, but I’m gonna do it! Okay?
A little while ago, six men from your ship broke into the home of the French Colonial Governor. They started throwing things through a plate glass living room window. We found some of the things on the lawn. Large world globe. Small love seat. A lot of books. A bust of Balzac. The French writer? We also found an Army private first class. He was unconscious at the time. He claims they threw him, too
Well, I must say I’m no longer surprised myself now that I see the example that’s being set by my first officer. Just look at yourself, man, look at the way your dressed. Come on, you’re no better than one of these natives.
“There is no escape from the Caine, save death. We’re all doing penance, sentenced to an outcast ship, manned by outcasts, and named after the greatest outcast of them all.”
You know nothing. Hell is only a word. The reality is much, much worse.
This is how we handle things down in Toontown.
You use your left hand or right hand to do that?
Maybe you were watching a movie with that funny comedian, oh what’s his name? Buddy Whackett?
Who’s you’re favorite little rascal? Alfalfa? Or is it Spanky?
I’m starting to picking up your sarcasm.
Oh, ho, ho, irony! Oh, no, no, we don’t get that here. See, uh, people ski topless here while smoking dope, so irony’s not really a, a high priority. We haven’t had any irony here since about, uh, '83, when I was the only practitioner of it. And I stopped because I was tired of being stared at.
It’s just I’m… I’m so tired of being admired all the time. All these men I mean… they’re all beautiful, artistic minds, great sex, the whole package, but hollow, you know what I mean? I feel nobody’s really honest with me. Nobody wants me for me.
***I don’t remember askin’ you a Goddamn thing!!!
You were saying?***