The zero hour, Michael. It's the end of the line. I'm the firstborn. Sick of playing second fiddle. Always third in line for everything. Tired of finishing fourth. Being the fifth wheel. There are six things I'm mad about, and I'm taking over.

Gob

Tobias, walking down a street he'd been down many times, saw a book he'd written years earlier as a psychiatrist. The book, initially unsuccessful, had suddenly caught fire ... Although, strangely, only in the gay community.

Narrator

Gob: Don't you worry. It'll take a lot more than a heart attack to kill that old bear. (starts sobbing) Old bear! He likes the honey! He never got a chance to see my bee business take off.
Michael: C'mon now. Dad's gonna be around another thirty years, Gob. Your business, uh, might not.
Gob: You're a good brother, Michael. Heart attack never stopped old big bear!

Kitty: Gob, this is your time. With my help, knowing what I know, we could take over the Bluth Company together.
Gob: Wow, this is a side of you I'd never noticed before. Have they always been that big?

Barry: Our star witness. Come here. Good to see you. You know what? Don't get too close to me. 'Cause I've got an itch you can't believe. I think something laid eggs on me.
Michael: Thanks for the heads up.

I'm in charge now. I speak for this family. I mean ... I could if you wanted me to. I'd rather not, obviously. Don't know what I'd say. Why do I have to be the one? I don't need this. Why does this have to become my problem? No, I'm out. Forget it. Find somebody else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of doing everything for this family.

Gob

Gob: Oh. Good. Well, I'll start my own business. How hard can it be? (Buzzes) Bzz! We'll see who brings in more honey. (Buzzes and walks off)
Michael: He's thinking about bees again.

Lindsay: Look, I need to become self-reliant. It's not going to last with Tobias. He's completely oblivious. He's got no idea how I'm feeling or thinking.
Michael: So, there's no sex?
Lindsay: I mean, how do you not have sex with me?
Michael: It is a struggle.

Lindsay: Is that a shot at me?
Gob: Probably.
Lindsay: Because, for your information, I have a job.
Michael: Really? What kind of job?
Lindsay: Beads!
Gob: Bees?!
Lindsay: Beads.
Gob: Beads?!
Michael: Gob's not on board.

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