I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We know Henry knows, and Henry knows we know it. We’re a knowledgeable family.
You’ve a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it. I admire it so much I’d like to present it pickled in alcohol to the London Medical Society.
Check out the big brain on Brett!
Abby Normal?
“Normal? What do you know about normal? What does anyone in this family know about normal?”
“Now wait a minute, young lady…”
“We act normal, Mom, I want to be normal! The only normal one is Jack-Jack, and he’s not even toilet trained!”
The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated.
Are you doing something sexual?
We cannot have intercourse where we eat oatmeal!
Since then, he’s been… uh… slappin’ the salami. No offense. Apparently, he’s going for a world record.
Hey, don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love!
Beautiful, naked, big-titted women just don’t fall out of the sky, you know.
You don’t like her?! What’s wrong with her?! She’s beautiful, she’s rich, she’s got huuuuuge… tracts of land!
You’re too old, fat man. Your tits are too big.
I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.
I believe it’s more of a kickin’ sitcheyation.
Give him a front kick, Johnny.
Now, this is not as easy as it sounds. Most people, normal people, do just about anything to avoid a fight.
Sweep the leg.
You’re taking this very personal. Tom, this is business and this man is taking it very, very personal.
And cousin, business is a-boomin’.