Mondays 10:00 PM on FX
Archer

Hey com 'on, you know I'd never let anything happen to your bacon. I love you Santa Clause. [sniff] I do.

Com 'on twenty two black. Twenty two black. Twenty two... BLACK, ASS SON OF A BITCH! Uh..heh.. not you giant African man. I'm sorry, can I offer you a drink? How about this expensive prostitute?

Malory: Agent Performance: unsatisfactory.
Archer: Aw, com 'on. At worst that was "needs improvement."

Lana: I think Conway is totally up to something.
Archer: Duh! You think I'm an idiot? I know he wants to marry mother and have her cut me out of the will. Which is why I'm going to kill him.

You know what's dangerous? You're obsession with me. Seriously, Lana, call Kenny Loggins, 'cause you're in the Danger Zone.

Archer: So let me guess..
Lana: Yeah, who ever he is, he ghosted an ID file onto our world wide data base.
Archer: Yeah, which you probably found while researching me-
Lana: [Sigh]
Archer: Lana, 'cause you're in the ah... Danger Zone!

Archer: What is that smell?
Malory: Gravlax and failure. I think Lana just Broke Torvald's Hand.
Archer: Truckasaurus.

Conway: I've tracked him to South Beach where he's arranged to sell the plans to Cuban Naval Intelligence. If that happens, undetectable Cuban missile subs can be parked right off Miami beach.
Malory: Ugh. Just what Miami needs, more Cubans.

I am drunk, or I wouldn't be talking to you.

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