Mondays 10:00 PM on FX
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How is this happy play time? Use your imagines, make a soccer ball out of a dead cat.


Barry: Come on, it's your son's life.
Malory: And my money.

Those cannot be your only shoes. What am I saying? It's Russia. People probably come from miles around just to get their picture taken in those.


Malory: Lana, you go straight to Moscow.
Lana: Undercover?
Malory: Of course undercover.
Lana: As what? Russia's only black woman?

Malory: Ray, get your purse and take some midol, you're going back for him.
Ray: According to these notes from my doctor, a radiologist and my new neurologist I am doing no such thing.

Archer: I thought they just wanted my hair so their scientists could unlock the secret of its luxurious fullness. Touch it, Barry.
Barry: No.
Archer: Come on.
Barry: It's not that thick back here.

He'll have an unexpected dinner guest, who, may be his son. And for dessert, we will have the truth. You hear that mother? After lifetimes of your secrets and lies, we will finally have the truth! Oh and hopefully shit loads of vodka.


Archer: Barry, wait, slow down!
Barry: Why?
Archer: So I can go past you!

So I can't stay for dinner. I assume that smell is cabbage and not just you two.


Barry: Your boots are slipping.
Archer: Probably because there's 200 pounds of asshole hanging from them
Barry: 183!
Archer: Whatever, fat boy. Tell that to my silk socks.
Barry: Why are you wearing silk socks?
Archer: Is that a joke?

Barry: He sodomized my fiancee.
Malory: You're still together?
Barry: Oh I'm sorry, ex-fiance. That's what I meant to say.
Malory: Then it wasn't it meant to be.

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