West Wing:
CJ: What’s our problem?
TOBY: What to do when the Nina, the Pinta and the Get Me the Hell Out Of Here hit Miami.
Josh: I drink from the keg of glory, Donna. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land.
Sam: I wasn't calling you a fool, sir. The brand new state of Georgia was.
Cochran: I'd like to speak to your supervisor.
Charile: Well, I'm Personal Aide to the President, so my supervisor's a little busy right now trying to find a back door to this place to shove you out of, but I'll let him know you'd like to lodge a complaint.
CJ: They sent me two turkeys. The most photo-friendly of the two gets a Presidential pardon and a full life at a children's zoo. The runner-up gets eaten.
Bartlet: If the Oscars were like that, I'd watch.
Bruno: Because I am tired of working for candidates who make me think I should be embarrassed to believe what I believe, Sam. I'm tired of getting them elected. You all need some therapy, because somebody came along and said liberal means soft on crime, soft on drugs, soft on communism, soft on defense, and we're going to tax you back to the stone age, because people shouldn't have to go to work if they don't want to. And instead of saying 'Well, excuse me, you right-wing, reactionary, xenophobic, homophobic, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-gun, Leave it to Beaver trip back to the fifties,' we cowered in the corner. And said 'Please don't hurt me.' No more. I really don't care who's right, who's wrong. We're both right. We're both wrong. Let's have two parties, huh, what do you say?
CJ: Outraged? I'm barely surprised. This is a country where women aren't allowed to drive a car. They're not allowed to be in the company of any man other than a close relative. They're required to adhere to a dress code that would make a
Maryknoll nun look like Malibu
Barbie. They beheaded a hundred and twenty-one people last year for robbery, rape, and drug trafficking. They have no free press, no elected government, no political parties. And the
Royal Family allows the
Religious Police to travel in groups of six carrying nightsticks and they freely and publicly beat women. But '
Brutus is an honorable man.' Seventeen schoolgirls were forced to burn alive because they weren't wearing the proper clothing. Am I outraged? No, Steve; no, Mark; no, Chris: that is Saudi Arabia, our partners in peace.
McNally: Let's attack.
Admiral Fitzwallace: Who?
McNally: Qumar. Let's recommend to the President that we attack.
Leo: Why?
McNally: 'Cause I've had it.
Admiral Fitzwallace: I don't think the UN is going to let us do it for that reason.
McNally: That's 'cause you're a sissy. You want peace in the Middle East? Give me a pair of third generation
ICBM's and a compass. You get
B-2 Spirit stealth bombers over Qumar right now, as if the Qumari Air Defense Sytem requires stealth capability. Just fly in at night, and while you're at it, could you order the
USS Louisiana to fire off a
D5 Trident just to see if it works? What's the worst that could happen?
Admiral Fitzwallace: Is she talking to me?
McNally: Yes!
Admiral Fitzwallace: Well, 98% of all living organisms within a seven mile radius would die instantly in a torrent of fire.
McNally: Admiral Sissymary...
Bartlet: In the future, if you're wondering, "Crime. Boy, I don't know" is when I decided to kick your ass.
Bartlet: Well, first of all, let's clear up a couple of things. "Unfunded mandate" is two words, not one big word. There are times when we're fifty states and there are times when we're one country, and have national needs. And the way I know this is that Florida didn't fight Germany in World War II or establish civil rights. You think states should do the governing wall-to-wall. That's a perfectly valid opinion. But your state of Florida got $12.6 billion in federal money last year - from Nebraskans, and Virginians, and New Yorkers, and Alaskans, with their Eskimo poetry. 12.6 out of a state budget of $50 billion. Now, I'm supposed to be using this time for a question, so here it is: Can we have it back, please?
Donna: Oh my God, you're putting my mother's cats on the Supreme Court.
Josh: I love her. I love her mind. I love her shoes.
Toby: In a triumph of the middling, a nod to mediocrity, and with gorge rising, it gives me great nausea to announce Robert Russell — Bingo Bob, himself — as your new Vice President.
Will: This lapdog of the mining interests is as dull as he is unremarkable...
Toby: ...as lackluster as he is soporific.
Will: Good.
Toby: This reversion to the mean...
Will: This rebuke to the exemplary...
Toby: ...gives hope to the millions unfavored by the exceptional...
Will: Yes.
Toby: The Vice Presidency, being famously once described as not being worth a warm bucket of spit; let's now hock a big loogie for Bob Russell. Not the worst. Not the best. Just what we're stuck with.
Will: Amen.
Leo: What a waste, since the moon. My generation never got the future it was promised... Thirty-five years later, cars, air travel is exactly the same. We don't even have the
Concorde anymore. Technology stopped.
Josh: The personal computer...
Leo: A more efficient delivery system for gossip and pornography? Where's my jet pack, my colonies on the Moon?
Really I could do a whole thread on West Wing...
😉