Buck, if I wanted an opinion from an asshole, I'd ask my own. Got it?Ray as Emmit
In the favelas of Brazil, there are six year olds with Glocks. They rove in packs, stealing whatever they can find. Mexican lowlifes stream into this country like wolves, eyeing our women and children. In the Congo, a family of six live on ten cents a day. You turn on the TV, what do you see? Those people. Mass migration. You're living in the age of the refugee, my friend.Varga
Emmit: Look around! I'm already rich.
Varga: No you're not.
Cremains, I think, is the preferred nomenclature.Sy
Varga: There’s an accounting coming, Mr. Stussy, and you know I'm right. Mongrel hordes descending, and what are you doing to insulate yourself and your family? You think you're rich. You've no idea what rich means. Rich is a fleet of private planes filled with decoys to mask your scent. It's a bunker in Wyoming and another in Gstaad. So that's action item one, the accumulation of wealth. And I mean wealth, not money.
Emmit: What's action item number two?
Varga: To use that wealth to become invisible.
Each character in this tale is going to be represented by a different instrument in the orchestra. For instance, the bird will be played by the flute, like this. Here's the duck, played by the oboe. The cat, by the clarinet. The bassoon will represent grandfather. The blast of the hunter’s shotguns played by the kettle drums. The wolf by the French horns. And Peter, by the strings. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then I'll begin.Narrator
Howard Zimmerman: Science has this thing. It's been proven. They call it “quantum” something. It talks about how we're all just particles. We're floating out there. We're moving through space. Nobody knows where we are. And then, every once in a while —
bang! We collide. And suddenly, for maybe a minute, we’re real. And then we float off again. As if we don't even exist. I used to think it meant something — these collisions, the people we found.
Gloria: And now?
Howard: Don't let the door hit you on your way out.
He was right. I am a bad person. But he wasn't so good either.Vivian
Hunt: So after we talked, I tried to friend you on Facebook.
Gloria: I don't use that.
Hunt: Really? You don't use Facebook? You're kidding me! Everybody’s on Facebook. It's Facebook.
Gloria: Could you stop saying Facebook?
Hunt: I got 352 friends. Most of them I don't even know! This one time I met this chick. Then she turned out to be a Nigerian man who wanted money.
Vivian: It's not a very clear time for me.
Vivian: The ‘70s.
Donny: So, what do you want me to tell the new chief?
Gloria: Tell him I saw the ocean and it was wet.
Motel Owner: Room 203. Very nice room, very nice. It's got air conditioning and you can smell the ocean.
Gloria: There's a view?
Motel Owner: No. There’s a smell. At low tide.