I swear to Christ, if you’re about to diagnose me with Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome, I am going to bash your goddamn face in.
VICE DEAN LAYBOURNE: Your 24 hours has expired. I need an answer, Troy. Are you ready to join the elite brotherhood of guys who fix air conditioners?
TROY: I’m sorry, Vice Dean, but… I realize no one’s better than anyone else. Some people are better at sports — and then there are magicians — but… I was put on this earth to do something… else.
VICE DEAN LAYBOURNE: So you’re going to be, what, a plumber?
TROY: No, I’m not going to be a plumber either, because they have to deal with poop.
We have a variety of all liquors served in strange containers. We are packed with celebrities— the fun ones. We also have cock fights and strippers. And guess what…? We don’t have a sign, so good luck finding the place. But if you do, you’ll be lucky because we’ve also got donkey shows, Motley Crüe and cake.
You’ve had a rough morning? Try pulling twin boys out of a tight little Asian gal. She wasn’t Asian-American, Ryan, she was real Asian. I had to do so much slicing and dicing down there, it looked like a goddamn Benihana.
You trying to do math is kind of like a dog wearing a hat.
I don’t recall ever watching Arness’ TV claim to fame, Gunsmoke — even though it was on-air for 20 years — but Them! and The Thing from Another World are first-ballot enshrined in my 50s Horror/Sci-Fi Hall of Fame.

A network programming schedule, low and no ratings bloodbath:
That guy’s dropped more pills than a three-fingered pharmacist.