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Pamela Finklestein: Yeah, so, can I help you?
George Newman: Hi, I'm George Newman. I'm the new station manager.
Pamela Finklestein: Ooooh! You know, when I first took this job, they told me that this position was only temporary, and that eventually, when the time was right, I would be moved up to news, which is really my forte. You know how long I've been working here? Two years! It's kind of hard to get promoted when every other week you have a new boss! This job really sucks! [sighs]
George Newman: [beat] This is my friend Bob.
George Newman: Hi, I'm George Newman. I'm the new station manager.
Pamela Finklestein: Ooooh! You know, when I first took this job, they told me that this position was only temporary, and that eventually, when the time was right, I would be moved up to news, which is really my forte. You know how long I've been working here? Two years! It's kind of hard to get promoted when every other week you have a new boss! This job really sucks! [sighs]
George Newman: [beat] This is my friend Bob.
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R.J. Fletcher: [laughing smugly with a present in hand] Aw, Richard. You shouldn't have.
Richard Fletcher: Happy Fathers Day, Daaaad.
R.J. Fletcher: [looks in the box, throws the present back at his son] What is this piece of crap?! I thought I told you I wanted a Rolex! A Rolex! [a knock on R.J.'s office door] What?!
[A station employee opens the door cautiously and sheepishly, wearing a large white cowboy hat with a big feather band and a raccoon tail.]
Station Employee: Sir?
R.J. Fletcher: What do you want?
Station Employee: I just thought I ought to tell you sir, that there's been a lot of talk on the street about this Channel 62. They're... they're starting to get a pretty strong following.
R.J. Fletcher: Excuse me? Did you say Channel 62?
Station Employee: Uh huh...
R.J. Fletcher: Do I have to remind you, that we are a network affiliate? And we are in competition with other networks, not with a bunch of punks, broadcasting out of a closet!
Station Employee: But, s..s..s..
R.J. Fletcher: Do you enjoy wasting my time? Get out of my office! [employee starts to leave] And take that ridiculous thing off!
[The station employee stops, waits a minute, then takes off...his mustache and leaves!]
Richard Fletcher: Happy Fathers Day, Daaaad.
R.J. Fletcher: [looks in the box, throws the present back at his son] What is this piece of crap?! I thought I told you I wanted a Rolex! A Rolex! [a knock on R.J.'s office door] What?!
[A station employee opens the door cautiously and sheepishly, wearing a large white cowboy hat with a big feather band and a raccoon tail.]
Station Employee: Sir?
R.J. Fletcher: What do you want?
Station Employee: I just thought I ought to tell you sir, that there's been a lot of talk on the street about this Channel 62. They're... they're starting to get a pretty strong following.
R.J. Fletcher: Excuse me? Did you say Channel 62?
Station Employee: Uh huh...
R.J. Fletcher: Do I have to remind you, that we are a network affiliate? And we are in competition with other networks, not with a bunch of punks, broadcasting out of a closet!
Station Employee: But, s..s..s..
R.J. Fletcher: Do you enjoy wasting my time? Get out of my office! [employee starts to leave] And take that ridiculous thing off!
[The station employee stops, waits a minute, then takes off...his mustache and leaves!]
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R.J. Fletcher: Do you see anything missing from this desk?
Stanley Spadowski : [Snapping his finger and pointing] That stapler?
Stanley Spadowski : [Snapping his finger and pointing] That stapler?
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R.J. Fletcher: Hey, what's going on here?
Harvey Bilchik: [preparing to sign a do****ent George has produced] Heh heh heh!
R.J. Fletcher: Now wait just a minute! What do you think you're doing?
George Newman: [triumphantly showing the do****ent Harvey Bilchik has just signed to the crowd] We did it! The station's ours!
R.J. Fletcher: You can't do this! We had an agreement, remember?! An oral contract! I'll sue!
Harvey Bilchik: Aw, blow it out your ear, scuzzbag!
Harvey Bilchik: [preparing to sign a do****ent George has produced] Heh heh heh!
R.J. Fletcher: Now wait just a minute! What do you think you're doing?
George Newman: [triumphantly showing the do****ent Harvey Bilchik has just signed to the crowd] We did it! The station's ours!
R.J. Fletcher: You can't do this! We had an agreement, remember?! An oral contract! I'll sue!
Harvey Bilchik: Aw, blow it out your ear, scuzzbag!
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R.J. Fletcher: This is an embarrassment! A disgrace! What do you think R.J. Fletcher Senior would be saying if he were alive today?
Richard Fletcher: "Help me out of this box, I can't breathe in here. Help, let me out."
Richard Fletcher: "Help me out of this box, I can't breathe in here. Help, let me out."
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R.J. Fletcher: You are a worthless human being, Mr., um...
Stanley Spadowski: Spadowski, sir. Stanley Spadowski.
R.J. Fletcher: [chuckles] Might I call you Stanley?
Stanley Spadowski: [chuckles] Okay...
R.J. Fletcher: Stanley, YOU'RE FIRED!!
Stanley Spadowski: But I-I-I didn't --
R.J. Fletcher: GET OUT!!
Stanley Spadowski: Spadowski, sir. Stanley Spadowski.
R.J. Fletcher: [chuckles] Might I call you Stanley?
Stanley Spadowski: [chuckles] Okay...
R.J. Fletcher: Stanley, YOU'RE FIRED!!
Stanley Spadowski: But I-I-I didn't --
R.J. Fletcher: GET OUT!!
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Stanley Spadowski: George, you know I was wondering, like if you were traveling through outer space, I mean like you're going real fast, like the speed of light, you know... hoooohhhhh... and all of a sudden you started screaming... aaaahhhhh aaaaahhhhh... Do you think your brain would blow up?
Bob: Guys, I'm trying to work... Do you mind?
Stanley Spadowski: I don't mind. Go right ahead. Do you mind, George?
Bob: Guys, I'm trying to work... Do you mind?
Stanley Spadowski: I don't mind. Go right ahead. Do you mind, George?
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Stanley Spadowski: George? What's wrong, George?
George Newman: Stanley, you don't want to know.
Stanley Spadowski: [Looking genuinely puzzled] Why'd I ask? [Back to George] Is there anything I can do to help?
George Newman: Not unless you've got seventy-five thousand dollars on you.
Stanley Spadowski: [While searching carefully through a few crumpled pieces of currency] No, sorry.
George Newman: Stanley, you don't want to know.
Stanley Spadowski: [Looking genuinely puzzled] Why'd I ask? [Back to George] Is there anything I can do to help?
George Newman: Not unless you've got seventy-five thousand dollars on you.
Stanley Spadowski: [While searching carefully through a few crumpled pieces of currency] No, sorry.
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Teri: George, did you get fired again?
George Newman: [banging his head against a counter] YES!!! YES, It's TRUE, IT'S ALL TRUE!! I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH MEEEEEEE!!!!!! [instantly changes his mood] So, what's for dinner? [takes a look at what's for dinner] Mashed potatoes?! My favorite! Teri, you shouldn't have!
George Newman: [banging his head against a counter] YES!!! YES, It's TRUE, IT'S ALL TRUE!! I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH MEEEEEEE!!!!!! [instantly changes his mood] So, what's for dinner? [takes a look at what's for dinner] Mashed potatoes?! My favorite! Teri, you shouldn't have!
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Teri: George, when are you going to learn to take things a little more seriously? I mean, you've been wandering aimlessly from job to job ever since I've known you. If you could just get that overactive imagination of yours to work for you instead of against you, maybe you could... [turns around and discovers that George has molded his mashed potatoes into a mountain; she sighs] What are you doing?
George Newman: This means something. This is important.
George Newman: This means something. This is important.
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[Message left on Teri's answering machine] Teri! I'm sorry! Come on give me one more chance please! Come on Teri! Teri! Oh Oh I'm in hell! I'M IN HELL!! TERI TERI PICK UP THE PHONE!! PICK UP THE PHONE!! PICK UP THE PHONE!!! OH OH TERI!!!!!! PLE-HE-HE-HE-HEASE!
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[to Satan] Oh, shut up, you pinhead! You make me SICK!
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[while sculpting a plate of mashed potatoes] This means something. This is important!
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Badgers? Badgers? We don't need no stinking badgers!
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For those of you just joining us, today we're teaching poodles how to fly.