BILL: They look Japanese.
DALE: Nope. I think they're Chinese.
BILL: How can you tell?
DALE: Japanese guys usually have glasses and a suit and a tie, and stuff like that.
DALE: They'll probably get you with a blow-dart. That's their way. But you'll just think it's a mosquito bite, until you die. Then you'll know the truth.
DALE: I hate to see Nancy cooped up all Sunday playing that Boggle. It's a beautiful day. She ought to be outside hanging my laundry.
HANK: Dale, what are you doing here?
DALE: I followed you. Every twist and every turn. By the way, I'm going to need to follow you home.
DALE: Wrestling a girl. That's a tough one, Bobby. If you win, you get the shame of having beat up a girl. If you lose, you just better hope she snaps your neck. That's the quickest way.
DALE: You gotta do something to sweep her off those big feet, Hank. Toss a little woo at her, see what sticks.
HANK: I don't know. I used up all my good material winning Peggy over the first time.
DALE: Maybe you can steal something from a movie, like Lethal Weapon. Man, those two guys loved each other.
DALE: You told Bobby to listen to Jimmy Witchard? He was in my gun club. People say he fried his brain one day staring at the sun. 'Course, he couldn't have been to smart to do that in the first place. Kind of a chicken-egg thing.
NANCY: Dale, get out of the hot tub. We're stealing a news van.
DALE: It's the perfect crime. How would they cover it?
DALE: Come on, you know you're Bill.
BILL: No, no, I don't know that. I'm Lenore.
DALE: Well, if you're Lenore, then where's Bill?
BILL: Uh, Bill's in the house. Want me to go get him?
DALE: I'm skeptical that you could, yet intrigued that you may.
HANK: I told you to stop sending my dad "The Gribble Report."
DALE: You tell me a lot of things, Hank. Most of which I publish.
Dale has just crashed a digger into a brick wall
DALE: Hank, you were right about it being complicated but wrong to make me want to try it so badly.
DALE (into a tape recorder): 10:15, Hank picks up Hal.
BILL: What?
(Dale rewinds the tape and plays it back.)
DALE (on the tape): 10:15, Hank picks up Hal.
BILL (on the tape): What?
DALE: I said, "10:15, Hank picks up Hal!"
DALE: It is I, Dale Gribble, man of a thousand faces. You just met face two: the deaf electrician. I couldn't help but overhear your uncle's bad advice. The only thing your roommates, i.e. enemy, understand is psychological warfare, i.e. dirty tricks. It worked for Dick Nixon. For example, get some goat's blood, then taint that blood. Then when your roommates need blood, give them the tainted goat's blood. It's a perfect plan.
LUANNE: I don't want to hurt anybody, I just want them to do the dishes.
DALE: Oh, well, in that case, put the dishes in the shower. That's how Nancy gets me to do them
BILL: You can't blame Hank for being attatched to his truck. He loves it. And that's what you do when you love something -- you cling to it so it doesn't try to run away.
DALE: I've had my van for ten years. At the first sign of weakness, I'll shoot her myself!
GOVERNOR RICHARDS: You guys like baseball?
DALE: If you're trying to smoke out the Communists, relax. We're all cool.
DALE: Ah, Memorial Day. A day when our war heroes are celebrated by even the most liberal of media.
DALE: This tornado's already at level two on the Fujisaki scale. A storm that strong can send an egg through a barn door. Two if one door is open.
BOBBY: What does a level three do, Mr. Gribble?
DALE: A level three can send an egg through a brick wall. Tornado chasers call it Humpty's Revenge.
DALE: Hank, I wouldn't use that remote.
(Hank clicks on the remote. Sound of an explosion offscreen.)
DALE: There goes the mailbox.
HANK: You have an exploding mailbox!?
DALE: That was your mailbox. And yes, I do.
DALE: This is his chance to be cool, Hank, and you only get one chance. I know.
(Flashback: Dale is running in the halls at Arlen High School.)
PRINCIPAL: Whoa, Gribble, where's the fire?
DALE'S BRAIN: Say "In your wife's pants!" Say it!
KID: In your wife's pants!
(All the cool kids laugh.)
YOUNG DALE (too late): In your wife's pants!
DALE: Whoa! Hold on, son! I want you to keep an open mind so you can make an informed decision! If you want, you can read a bloated government report on smoking, or go straight to the horse's mouth and get the facts from the tobacco industry.
DALE: TV sets are getting smaller and smaller, and bigger and bigger. Soon the medium-sized set will be a thing of the past.
DALE: There is a small-to-large chance you will develop high-altitude pulminary adaema, meaning your capillaries to flood with fluid, preventing adequate oxygenation, and a spiral of worsening hypoxia, leading to a slow and painful death.
BILL: I don't think I want that.
DALE: That's why I brought the gun. If you start feeling any shortness of breath, rub your belly and I will give you one of Doctor Dale's 38 caliber pain pills.
DALE: You know what a real friend would do? Get me to burn down said other friend's failing business for the insurance money. Just say the word. Or don't. I'll get the signal. Just nod. Or don't.
HANK: Shut up, Dale.
DALE: So we're on.
DALE: Kahn has a mother? Somehow I always pictured a pod situation.
DALE: I hope the new neighbor isn't another Kahn. His cracks about Peggy are funny, but apart from that, he's completely useless.
DALE: The less kids know about money, the less likely they are to rat you out under pressure of a Federal investigation
DALE: Don't worry, Boomhauer, Patch may have beat you to the altar, but you'll beat him to the grave. As a bachelor, your life expectancy is seven years shorter than us blissfully marrieds. Even Bill gets a couple of years' credit for that charade of a marriage of his.
DALE (on his last meal): I'd ask for the world's rarest truffle. Then while they were searching for it, I'd tunnel my way to freedom. Of course, then I'd miss eating the world's rarest truffle. Quite the quandary.
DALE (to Hank): Bobby loves God, you worship the devil. Dinner times must be tense.
DALE: Let's just say mistakes were made. Then other, larger mistakes.
PRINCIPAL MOSS: Sorry I'm late. It took longer than I thought to wipe the eggs off my car.
DALE: Sorry I'm late. It took longer than I thought to egg Moss's car.
DALE (giving his turtle a cigarette): Find land. Plant this. I will meet you at the rendezvous.
DALE: Pirate? Gondola operator? Waiter? Pirate waiter?
HANK: He's supposed to be gay, Dale.
DALE: Really? I don't see it.
DALE: They're always talking about college, but have any of you ever actually seen one?
HANK: You disappoint me, Dale.
DALE: Get in line.
HANK: Where am I supposed to get mice?
DALE: I left a plate of bacon in your attic -- you should have plenty by nightfall.
DALE (threatening to destroy his kidney): Come any closer and this baby's good for nothing but an Englishman's breakfast.
HANK: Dale, just hold on. Let's talk about this.
DALE: No! Now, I'm going to need an unmarked jet and two parachutes, one kidney-sized.
DALE: Hank, it sounds like you did everything right except giving away my kidney. And since I traded it for a bunch of kiddie toys, I guess we both let me down.
DALE: Cotton's got to go. But he's got Hank behind him, and Hank's the alpha neighbor. I'm gamma or delta at best.
DALE: You really shouldn't feel so worthless. I'm much more of a burden on my family, and I feel great.
DALE: You tell me what's crazier: that the government's free cheese contains surveillance devices to monitor America's underclass, as I once believed, or that you're a woman, as I now believe? If my government says you're a woman, I say, "enchante, madame." (Dale tries to kiss Hank's hand. Hank slaps his face.) Whoa. I think you've had enough to drink, sweetheart.
DALE: All I can say is, I wish I had the Smoking Bandit's courage. He's the Rosa Parks of nicotine.
BILL: He's a hero. Just like that guy who rides his bicycle faster than French people. I bet he smokes too.
HANK: Don't they say criminals always return to the scene of the crime?
DALE: Not if they don't want to get caught, Hank
DALE: Hank, I spat in the concrete, so when I mysteriously "disappear," you'll be able to create the perfect neighbor: half-man, half-driveway.
DALE: Credit cards are a last resort after cash, check, plasma, urine, and alien urine. Sure, there's bone marrow, but that is more prudently used as a retirement vehicle, or so says Lou Dobbs.
DALE: Listen! I've never been able to say this in my whole life, but as of 2 p.m. yesterday, I am a taxpayer. And I demand $36 worth of service. I know the chain of command, starting with your supervisor, Franklin Thomas, all the way up to the under-intendent of Transportation, Edward Dibble, whose daughters, Pat and Ellie, played ladybug soccer with the daughters of the President of the United States. And I'm not afraid to make some phone calls. I'm your worst nightmare. I have a three-line phone, and absolutely nothing at all to do with my time!
― Ste, Wednesday, 14 November 2007 20:39 (sixteen years ago) link
one year passes...
eleven months pass...
five months pass...
six years pass...
two years pass...
one year passes...