Well, as soon as we get ourselves cleaned up and we get a little smellum in our hair, why, we’re gonna feel 100% better about ourselves and about life in general.
So this is what you give me to work with? Well honey, I’ve seen worse. We’re gonna turn this sow’s ear into a silk purse.
Mr. President, we are rapidly approaching a moment of truth both for ourselves as human beings and for the life of our nation. Now, truth is not always a pleasant thing. But it is necessary now to make a choice, to choose between two admittedly regrettable, but nevertheless distinguishable, postwar environments: one where you got twenty million people killed, and the other where you got a hundred and fifty million people killed! Mr. President, I’m not saying we wouldn’t get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than ten to twenty million killed, tops. Uh, depending on the breaks.
Hail to the chief / He’s the one we all say “Hail” to. / We all say “Hail” / 'Cause he keeps himself so clean! / He’s got the power, / That’s why he’s in the shower…
Hail to the Chief, he’s the best of all the surgeons/ He needs a queen to satisfy his urges.
Hail to the Chief, he’s the best of all the trappers/ He needs a queen to sit upon his lapper.
The royalty, the nobility, the gentry, and oh! Even the rabble.
What do the simple folk do?
Some cultures are defined by their relationship to cheese.
You think it’s too warm in here for the brie?
Comrades, our own fleet doesn’t know our full potential. They will do everything possible to test us; but they will only test their own embarrassment. We will leave our fleet behind. We will pass through the American patrols, past their sonar nets, and lay off their largest city, and listen to their rock and roll, while we conduct missile drills. Then, when we are finished, the only sound they will hear is our laughter - while we sail to Havana, where the sun is warm, and so is the…comradeship. A great day, comrades. We sail into history!
Everything’s legal in Havana.
Okay. Say hello to my little friend!
Serpentine Shelly. Serpentine!
Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?
A dagger, like a serpent, changes direction with opportunity.
There are three rules that I live by: never get less than twelve hours sleep; never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city; and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese.
And not just any cheese!
They’re turnin’ my car into Swiss cheese!
Her name’s Christine.
Oh, Stitch isn’t a good name…in Iceland! But for here, it’s a good name.