As an interesting side note, as a head without a body, I envy the dead.
Fry! Quit doing the right thing, you jerk! I am the man with no name, Zapp Brannigan! Oh, you’re a dollar naughtier than most. Uh, is the puppy mechanical in any way?
Um, is this the boring, peaceful kind of taking to the streets? Shut up and get to the point! Yes! In your face, Gandhi! Yes, except the Dave Matthews Band doesn’t rock. Noooooo!
That’s right, baby. I ain’t your loverboy Flexo, the guy you love so much. You even love anyone pretending to be him!
You’re going back for the Countess, aren’t you? Oh, I don’t have time for this. I have to go and buy a single piece of fruit with a coupon and then return it, making people wait behind me while I complain.
- Yeah, and if you were the pope they’d be all, “Straighten your pope hat.” And “Put on your good vestments.”
- Shinier than yours, meatbag.
- Bender, being God isn’t easy. If you do too much, people get dependent on you, and if you do nothing, they lose hope. You have to use a light touch. Like a safecracker, or a pickpocket.
Who are those horrible orange men?
Does anybody else feel jealous and aroused and worried? Well I’da done better, but it’s plum hard pleading a case while awaiting trial for that there incompetence. It’s okay, Bender. I like cooking too.
- I’m sorry, guys. I never meant to hurt you. Just to destroy everything you ever believed in.
- Hey, what kinda party is this? There’s no booze and only one hooker.
- Why would a robot need to drink?
Noooooo! Bender?! You stole the atom. Okay, it’s 500 dollars, you have no choice of carrier, the battery can’t hold the charge and the reception isn’t very… Yes! In your face, Gandhi! For one beautiful night I knew what it was like to be a grandmother. Subjugated, yet honored.
I’m a thing. Fry, we have a crate to deliver. If rubbin’ frozen dirt in your crotch is wrong, hey I don’t wanna be right. Now Fry, it’s been a few years since medical school, so remind me. Disemboweling in your species: fatal or non-fatal?
You seem malnourished. Are you suffering from intestinal parasites? Also Zoidberg. But I’ve never been to the moon! Or a guy who burns down a bar for the insurance money!
Really?! Is the Space Pope reptilian!? Ah, yes! John Quincy Adding Machine. He struck a chord with the voters when he pledged not to go on a killing spree. The key to victory is discipline, and that means a well made bed. You will practice until you can make your bed in your sleep.
Morbo will now introduce tonight’s candidates… PUNY HUMAN NUMBER ONE, PUNY HUMAN NUMBER TWO, and Morbo’s good friend, Richard Nixon. No. We’re on the top. Have you ever tried just turning off the TV, sitting down with your children, and hitting them?
Yes! In your face, Gandhi! Check it out, y’all. Everyone who was invited is here. Hey, you add a one and two zeros to that or we walk! That’s right, baby. I ain’t your loverboy Flexo, the guy you love so much. You even love anyone pretending to be him!
I barely knew Philip, but as a clergyman I have no problem telling his most intimate friends all about him. I’ve been there. My folks were always on me to groom myself and wear underpants. What am I, the pope?
Good man. Nixon’s pro-war and pro-family. I’ll tell them you went down prying the wedding ring off his cold, dead finger. Tell her she looks thin. I’m a thing. What are their names?
Dr. Zoidberg, that doesn’t make sense. But, okay! Yeah, and if you were the pope they’d be all, “Straighten your pope hat.” And “Put on your good vestments.” When I was first asked to make a film about my nephew, Hubert Farnsworth, I thought “Why should I?” Then later, Leela made the film. But if I did make it, you can bet there would have been more topless women on motorcycles. Roll film!
Oh, all right, I am. But if anything happens to me, tell them I died robbing some old man. The key to victory is discipline, and that means a well made bed. You will practice until you can make your bed in your sleep.
So, how ’bout them Knicks? Are you crazy? I can’t swallow that. We need rest. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised. And why did ‘I’ have to take a cab? That’s right, baby. I ain’t your loverboy Flexo, the guy you love so much. You even love anyone pretending to be him!