Briefcase.
What the hell are you doing?
Give it!
Pocket sand.
Ow!
Trick or treat!
Boo.
I am a high-priced Washington
lobbyist peddling influence.
Who wants candy?
Amen.
Run, Hank!
Portal to hell.
Rematch?
I thought we agreed never to discuss the horrors
that we saw on the killing fields of the Fun Center.
I know what's wrong with it.
It's a Ford.
You know what they say Ford stands for, don't ya?
Stands for Fix It Again, Tony.
You're thinking of a Fiat, Dale.
Fix ... it ...
again ...
Hank, you have bullyragged this production
and stifled my creativity from day one.
It is now
day two.
I quit.
That makes a lot of sense.
A lot of nonsense.
I killed eight gophers last year and a purebred
Tennessee walking horse that was looking at me funny.
Is that a real computer?
Yes.
Oh. In that case,
my name is Rusty ...
Shackleford.
You half-wits could be looking at jail time.
Uh ...
Uh. My— My name is Shackleford.
Rusty Shackleford.
I refuse to speak without my attorney present.
I am Mr. Shackleford's
attorney, Rusty Shackleford.
My client pleads insanity.
Let me take this opportunity
to introduce the band.
On keyboard,
the Big D himself,
Rusty Shackleford.
Dale Gribble?
Maybe.
Who's asking?
Rusty Shackleford.
Wha'?
It's me, Dale.
But that's impossible.
Rusty died in third grade.
I didn't die.
I moved.
You need to stop using my name, Dale.
I am not using your name.
And I am not Dale.
Come on, Dale.
You're smoking the same
brand of cigarettes you did in the third grade.
Get off my property, whoever I am.
Woah, Dale, this bridge goes into Mexico.
Whoops, did I make a wrong turn?
Alright, let me try to spin around.
Nope.
Not yet.
Now?
Nope.
Oh, well, we're in Mexico.
What are you gonna do?
Alright, twister.
It's just you and me now.
Ten years ago, you took my sh*t.
Did you think I'd forget that?
Come on. Bring it on!
Ahh!
No, please. Let me go!
This is no time for jokes, Boomhauer.
This tornado is already classified
at level two on a Fujisaki scale.
A storm that strong will send an egg through a barn door.
Two barn doors if one of 'em's open.
What would a level three do, Mr. Gribble?
Level three will send an egg through a brick wall.
Tornado chasers call it Humpty's revenge.
I'll be in my think hole.
[Humming]
Ahh!
My Dew!
How could you do this to me, Puff Puff?
Ahh!
My cigarettes!
No!
Turbine!
Sh-sh-sha!
You're part of a 12 headed jackass!
This course is the thesis that is produced
when shame eats too much stupidity!
You people make me envy the deaf and the blind!
Underwear, money, fat!
And the pockets are big enough for an
umbrella.
Sh-sh-sha.
Joseph will love it.
Quit screwing around with my mower.
You've got to be kidding.
I don't kid about my mower.
Now get inside and start massaging my wife.
Computers don't make errors.
What they do, they do on purpose.
By now, your name and particulars
have been fed into every laptop, desktop,
mainframe, and supermarket scanner
that collectively make up the global information
conspiracy, otherwise known as The Beast.
Hey, I know what's wrong with your truck.
It's your, quote-unquote, pollution controls.
I heard on TalkRadio, you don't even need them.
They're just an egghead government plot.
How is cutting down on pollution a government plot, Dale?
Open up your eyes, man.
They're trying to control global warming.
Get it?
Global.
So, what?
That's code for UN commissars telling Americans what temperature
it's gonna be in our outdoors.
I say let the world warm up.
See what Boutros Boutros-Ghali-Ghali thinks about that.
We'll grow oranges in Alaska.
Dale, you giblet-head.
We live in Texas.
It's already 110 in the summer.
And if it gets one degree hotter,
I'm gonna kick your ass.
What are you asking Bill for?
The army destroyed all his brain cells
with their deadly placebo drug.
No wonder he's an ignoranus.
What did you say?
Ignoranus.
It means stupid, you moron.
Dale, you said placebo.
Yeah, I read it on Bill's file.
That was the name of the drug they gave him.
Placebo.
I think it's made by Puh-fizer.
Damn it, Dale.