No, nothing in particular, just someone banging on the door with a cannon ball!
Have fun storming the castle!
But I can’t! I can’t get beyond the boundaries of Fantasia!
These drawing boards have been the birthplace of some of most beloved animal characters of all time. So it’s no surprise that they choose for our next segment, “The Carnival of the Animals” by Camille Saint-Saëns. Here the sensitive strains of impressionistic music combine with the subtle artistry of the animator to finally answer that age old question: What is man’s relationship to nature? Oh, sorry… That age old question: What would happen if you gave a yo-yo to a flock of flamingos? Who wrote this?
Oh, you should have seen it. There was a record player. And a yo-yo. Buzz, I was a yo-yo!
You were there, and you were there, and you were there…
See? Right there. Just what you just said.
On second thought, let’s not go to Camelot; 'tis a silly place.
Will you get out of here? Will you? I’m trying to run an office here. Now will you go to lunch? Go to lunch!
Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’d never know ‘cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eat nothin’ that ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Now I need to put the meat on broil but your hair is on bake. Which should I do first?
I have to murder and dismember a crustacean.
Annie, there’s a big lobster behind the refrigerator. I can’t get it out. This thing’s heavy. Maybe if I put a little dish of butter sauce here with a nutcracker, it will run out the other side.
Oh, the silent majesty of a winter’s morn; the clean, cool chill of the holiday air; and an asshole in his bathrobe, emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.
When we were forced to come to New York, I found myself for the first time without a home, wandering through sewers, scavenging for whatever I could find. And then, one day, I came upon a shattered glass jar and four baby turtles.
Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew.
I charge a lot for anything black. Grapes, olives, blackcurrants. People like to remind themselves of death; eating black food is like consuming death. Like saying: “Death, I’m eating you!”
We cannot break bread with you. You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, “Do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller.” And for all these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground.
I was frozen today!!!
I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I’d rather not spend the rest of this winter TIED TO THIS FUCKING COUCH!