Crash

Graham:
Its the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In LA, nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

Officer Ryan:
You think you know who you are. You have no idea.

Jean:
Do you want to hear something funny?

Maria:
What's that Mrs. Jean?

Jean:
You're the best friend I have.

Officer Ryan:
You think you know who you are?

Officer Ryan:
You have no idea.

Anthony:
Look around! You couldn't find a whiter, safer or better lit part of this city. But this white woman sees two black guys, who look like UCLA students, strolling down the sidewalk and her reaction is blind fear. I mean, look at us! Are we dressed like gangbangers? Do we look threatening? No. Fact, if anybody should be scared, it's us: the only two black faces surrounded by a sea of over-caffeinated white people, patrolled by the triggerhappy LAPD. So, why aren't we scared?

Peter:
Because we have guns?

Anthony:
You could be right.

Peter:
We didn't get any coffee that you didn't want and I didn't order, and this is evidence of racial discrimination? Did you happen to notice our waitress was black?

Anthony:
And black women don't think in stereotypes? When's the last time you met one who didn't think she knew everything about your lazy ass before you even opened your mouth? That waitress sized us up in two seconds. We're black, and black people don't tip, so she wasn't gonna waste her time! Someone like that, there's nothing you can do to change their mind.

Peter:
So, uh, how much did you leave her?

Anthony:
You expect me to pay for that kind of service? [Peter laughs] What? What the f*** is you laughing at, man?

Rick:
[After his car is stolen] Why did these guys have to be black? No matter how we spin this thing, I'm either gonna lose the black vote or I'm gonna lose the law and order vote!

Karen:
You know, I think you're worrying too much. You have a lot of support in the black community.

Rick:
All right. If we can't duck this thing, we're gonna have to neutralize it. What we need is a picture of me pinning a medal on a black man. The firefighter - the one that saved the camp or something - Northridge... what's his name?

Bruce:
He's Iraqi.

Rick:
He's Iraqi? Well, he looks black.

Bruce:
He's dark-skinned, sir, but he's Iraqi. His name's Saddam Khahum.

Rick:
Saddam? His name's Saddam? That's real good, Bruce. I'm going to pin a medal on an Iraqi named Saddam. Give yourself a raise!

Anthony:
You wanna listen to music of the oppressor, you go right ahead.

Peter:
How in the lunacy of your mind is hip-hop music of the oppressor.

Anthony:
Listen to it, man. N*gger this, n*gger that! You think people go around calling each other honkies all day? "Hey, honkie! How's business?" "Going great, cracker! We're diversifying!"

Peter:
[changes the station] How about this, huh? How about that? You like that? Man's singing about lynching n*ggers!

Anthony:
And you think there's a difference, don't you?

Peter:
[singing] "Gonna buy me a rope, and lynch me a n*gger!"

Anthony:
You've got absolutely no idea where hip-hop comes from, do you?

Peter:
[singing] "I shoot 'em dead first, but I done broke my trigger!"

Anthony:
You see, back in the '60s, we had smart black articulate black men. Like Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, Eldridge Cleaver, Fred Hampton. These brothers were speaking out, and people were listening. And then, the FBI said, "Oh, no! We can't have that! I know! Let's give the n*ggers some music by a bunch of mumbling idiots, and sooner or later they'll all copy it, and nobody'll be able to understand a f***ing word they say! End of problem."

Daniel:
Excuse me? Excuse me, sir?

Farhad:
You finish?

Daniel:
I replaced the lock. But you got a real problem with that door.

Farhad:
You fix the lock?

Daniel:
Nah, I replaced the lock. But you gotta fix that door.

Farhad:
Just fix the lock.

Daniel:
Sir, sir, sir, listen to me. What you need, is a new door.

Farhad:
I need new door?

Daniel:
Yeah.

Farhad:
Okay. How much?

Daniel:
I don't-- Sir, you're gonna have to call somebody that sells doors.

Farhad:
You try to cheat me, right? You have a friend that fix door?

Daniel:
Nah, I don't have a friend that fix doors, bro.

Farhad:
Then go and fix the f***ing lock, you cheater!

Daniel:
You know what? Why don't you just pay me for the lock, and I won't charge you for the time?

Farhad:
You not fix the lock! I pay! What, you think I'm stupid? You fix the f***ing lock, you cheater!

Daniel:
Hey, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop calling me names.

Farhad:
Then fix the f***ing lock!

Daniel:
I replaced the lock! You gotta fix the f***ing door!

Farhad:
You cheat! You f***ing cheater!

Daniel:
[crumples up the charge receipt] Fine. Don't pay.

Farhad:
What?

Daniel:
Have a good night. [leaves]

Farhad:
What? No! Wait! You come back here! You fix the lock! Come here, you fix my lock! Fix the f***ing lock!

Lucien:
You run over a Chinaman, stuff him in the back, then bring the truck here so I can share in the experience?

Anthony:
Come on, man. It's a little bit of blood. It'll wash right off.

Lucien:
Georgie, burn this thing.

Anthony:
Burn it? It's a brand new Navigator. All you need is a little piece of carpet.

Lucien:
You watch The Discovery Channel?

Anthony:
Not a lot.

Peter:
They got some good sh*t on that channel.

Lucien:
Every night, there is a show with somebody shining a little blue light and finding tiny specks of blood splattered on carpets and walls and ceiling fans, bathroom fixtures, and special-edition plastic Burger King tray cups. And the next thing they show is some stupid redneck in handcuffs who looks absolutely stunned that this is happening to him. Sometimes the redneck is actually watching The Discovery Channel when they break in to arrest him, and he still can't figure out how on earth they could've caught him! Do I look like I want to be on The Discovery Channel?

Anthony:
No.

Lucien:
Then get the f*** out of my shop.

Officer Ryan:
[talking on the phone] I wanna speak to your supervisor...

Shaniqua:
I am my supervisor!

Officer Ryan:
All right well, what's your name?

Shaniqua:
Shaniqua Johnson.

Officer Ryan:
"Shaniqua." Big f***ing surprise that is.

Shaniqua:
Oh! [hangs up]

Cameron:
You know, sooner or later, you are gonna have to find out what it is really like to be black.

Christine:
F*** you man, like you know! The closest you ever came to being black, Cameron, was watching the Cosby Show.

Cameron:
Yeah? Well at least I wasn't watching it with the rest of the equestrian team.

Christine:
You know what, Cameron? You're right. I've got a lot to learn 'cause I haven't quite figured out how to shuck and jive yet. Lemme hear it again? "Sorry Mr. Poh-lice Man, you sure is mighty fine to us poor black folk. You sure to let me know next time you wanna finger f*** my wife!"

Cameron:
How the f*** do you say something like that to me? You know what? F*** you.

Christine:
That's right, a little anger! It's a little late, but it's nice to see!

Officer Ryan:
You don't like me, that's fine. I'm a prick. But my father doesn't deserve to suffer like this. He was a janitor. He struggled his whole life. Saved enough to start his own company. Twenty-three employees, all of them black. Paid 'em equal wages when no one else was doing that. For years he worked side by side with those men, sweeping and carrying garbage. Then the city council decides to give minority-owned companies preference in city contracts. And overnight, my father loses everything. His business, his home, his wife. Everything! Not once does he blame your people. I'm not asking you to help me. I'm asking that you do this small thing for a man who lost everything so people like yourself could reap the benefits. And do you know what it's gonna cost you? Nothing. Just a flick of your pen.

Shaniqua:
Your father sounds like a good man. And if he'd come in here today, I probably would've approved this request. But he didn't come in. You did. And for his sake, it's a real shame! Get him the hell outta my office!

Cameron:
I didn't ask for your help, did I?