Pope Wormer: Greg, what is the worst religious sect in this world?
Cardinal Greg Marmalard: Well that would be hard to say, sir. They're each outstanding in their own way.
Pope Wormer: Cut the horse***, son. I've got their disciplinary files right here. Who dropped a whole truckload of fizzies into the swim meet? Who delivered the medical school cadavers to the alumni dinner? Every Halloween, the trees are filled with underwear. Every spring, the toilets explode.
Cardinal Marmalard: You're talking about radical islamofascists, sir.
Pope Wormer: Of course I'm talking about radical islamofascists, you TWERP!
Later...inside Animal Mosque:
Al D-Day: War's over, man. Wormer's dropped the big one.
bin-Bluto: Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Saddam Otter: Germans?
bin-Boon: Forget it, he's rolling.
bin-Bluto: And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough... [thinks hard] ... the tough get goin'! Who's with me? Let's go! [runs out, alone; then returns]
bin-Bluto: What happened to the jihadis I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you bin-Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well just kiss my *** from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this. Wormer, he's a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer...
Saddam Otter: Dead! bin-Bluto's right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now we could do it with conventional weapons but that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part.
bin-Bluto: We're just the guys to do it.
Al D-Day: Let's do it.
bin-Bluto: LET'S DO IT!


Me: The Night Writer, John Stewart; 50 years old and smart enough to have married my trophy wife first.