Max Goldman: Good morning, dickhead. John Gustafson: Hello, moron. Grandpa Gustafson: [after a swig of an alcoholic beverage] Breakfast. Grandpa Gustafson: He's taking the one eyed monster to the optometrist. Max Goldman: Do me a favor. Put your lip over your head... and swallow. Grandpa Gustafson: Kids; Can't live with them, can't shoot them. Max Goldman: Up yours, Gustafson. Max Goldman: When I had an ulcer, I was farting razor blades. Max Goldman: Well he started it! Jacob: Oh, Gustafson started every fight since 1940. Max Goldman: 1938! Max Goldman: If I had known I would be doing a nude scene, I'd have asked for another million. Max Goldman: Hey dickhead you win the lottery? Max Goldman: Did you win the Lottery Dickhead? John Gustafson: Enjoy your shower Smart Ass? John Gustafson: [Bragging about his sexual escapades] I've laid more pipe in this town than Wabasha Plumbing. Max Goldman: Hey, watch your mouth you dumb friggin' Swede. John Gustafson: We did the horizontal mambo. Ariel Truax: Gay or straight? John Gustafson: Huh? Ariel Truax: Heterosexual or homosexual? John Gustafson: Geez Louise! Ariel Truax: Well, it's a perfectly legitimate question. John Gustafson: Well, maybe in California, but here in Minnesota... Who-ho-ho-ho! John Gustafson: You're supposed to be smoking filter cigarettes. Grandpa Gustafson: I'm 94 years old. What the hell do I care? Max Goldman: You mean the low-life, ass-wipe, egg-sucker John Gustafson? Snyder: Have you seen him? Max Goldman:
The man's crazy. Loco. Always hanging out around those kinky strip bars. You know, the ones where the men take their clothes off. That's of course if he's taken his medication.
Snyder: Medication? Max Goldman: Yes, without it he could be anywhere. Wandering around talking to the trees. I'm telling you the man's a menace, he's always drinking, starting fights. Ariel Truax: John, when was the last time you made love? John Gustafson: October 4th... 1978. Ariel Truax: Oh, I think we're safe. Max Goldman: Who's the guy yakkin' at your door? John Gustafson: Just mind your own business, will ya? Max Goldman: Mind your own business, will ya? Mind your own business. Why don't you tie your shoelace, you'll fall on your stupid head. Weatherman: Cold enough for ya? Brrrrrrr! Max Goldman: Oh, shut up, fatass!