The King of Staten Island

Kelsey:
See that guy is what is wrong with Staten Island. We don’t get any of the cool people from any of the other boroughs. No one comes here. We’re stuck with the pricks who live here.

Oscar:
You’re talking about us, right in front of us.

Kelsey:
Kind of. I mean no one comes here! There’s no flow of people. That guy’s like two hundred. We’ve known him since we were six.

Tara:
Why can’t this be like Brooklyn?

Kelsey:
There’s no reason we shouldn’t be cool like Brooklyn. We’ve got amazing views. It’s close to the city. It’s cheap. Nice people. It makes no sense.

Scott:
We’re like the only place New Jersey looks down on. You could see the garbage dump from space. This place is never gonna change.

Kelsey:
No. It happened to the Meatpacking District, the Village. Brooklyn used to be a shithole. We’re next. I’m gonna take my civil service test. I’m gonna work for the city in city planning. You watch, this place is going to be f***ing Williamsburg in ten years.

Richie:
Nobody wants that.

Scott:
Why do you wanna work in the city and do city planning? That sounds so boring.

Tara:
I feel like Brooklyn is better. I dated a guy that lived in Brooklyn. He was a mixologist. He made ice cubes out of milk. He was so classy.

Oscar:
Shut up.

Kelsey:
I love Staten Island. It’s amazing. And people are gonna see it soon. Trust me.

Scott:
If you love it so much, why don’t you let me tattoo it on you?

Kelsey:
No, I’m not letting you tattoo me again.

Scott:
Well I need somebody to tattoo. Come on Rich, what about you man?

Richie:
Don’t even look at me, dude.

Scott:
Why?

Richie:
[Points to tattoo of Obama tattoo on his arm] Your work is mad inconsistent. Obama ain’t right.

Scott:
I got the eyes wrong, okay?

Richie:
He’s not right! This has hurt me. I don’t have any black friends anymore. I can’t go to a barber shop no more. You got Obama wrong. Ain’t nothing worse than that.

Scott:
What about you, Igor? You want a dragon or something?

Igor:
I love your tattoos. My brother? It’s the spitting image. It’s my favorite. No this is my favorite. [Lifts his shirt to reveal a tattoo of a cat with his navel implied to be the anus]

Igor:
You killed that.

Scott:
I really worked hard on the eyes.

Igor:
He’s so cute. I love his butthole. It reminds me that I have a belly button. So I’m good.

Kelsey:
I gotta go. Watching you beg to give tattoos is too sad. And that’s freaking me out.

[At the beach with Oscar and Richie drinking and Scott finishes up tattooing Igor]

Igor:
That looks really good.

Scott:
I wish you’d let me do something cooler but yeah. We see the tattoo, a smiley face captioned “Unfollow Me.”

Igor:
F*** no. That hurt so bad.

Oscar:
Another dumb tattoo.

Scott:
I like the pain. The pain’s the whole point of getting tattoos. Don’t you just love when you get a tattoo and it hits the bone and pinches a nerve and you’re like “Ah!”

Igor:
I’m not a fan of the pain.

Richie:
You shouldn’t let him do it to you. He’s inconsistent.

Oscar:
That tattoo’s dumb.

Igor:
Y’all should’ve told me when you saw the design.

Oscar:
It says “Unfollow Me.” You don’t even have that many followers.

Igor:
Carla follows me.

Richie:
Bro, she’s imaginary!

'Scott:
Carla not real, dude.

Richie:
How many times do we have to say this? Oscar punches a bug.

Oscar:
I hate bugs, dog. I’m a gangster!

Scott:
That’s a bee, bro!

[Oscar spots Raymond's son; Harold, a nine-year-old boy nearby]

Oscar:
There’s a kid down there. Yo, kid!

Scott:
Oh sh*t, there is a kid.

Oscar:
What’re you doing? You hanging out on the beach? Come here. Don’t be shy. No stranger danger here. I’m not gonna touch you.

[Harold walks over]

Scott:
What’s up, pal?

Oscar:
What’re you doing?

Harold:
Looking for my friend.

Scott:
[Mocks] "Looking for my friend."

Oscar:
You wanna be friends with us? We’re the good guys.

Scott:
You can hang out with us.

Oscar:
[Extends fist] Lemme get some of that. Put it here. You gang. Part of the gang. [Oscar and Harold bump fists and Harold spots Scott’s tattoo gun]

Harold:
What’s that?

Scott:
It’s a tattoo gun. I was giving the homies tattoos.

Harold:
I want a tattoo.

Scott:
Sure young guy. You want a tattoo?

Harold:
Yeah.

Oscar:
Kid wants a tattoo. That’s my guy right there.

Igor:
You can’t give him a tattoo. He’s a little kid.

Scott:
I gotta practice on something. He seems old enough.

Oscar:
You a tough guy?

Harold:
Yeah.

Oscar:
You’re a badass. [Flexing arms] Come on, show those muscles kid. Come on, both arms. Put ‘em up. [Harold flexes arms]

Oscar:
There we go. What’s your name?

Harold:
Harold.

Oscar:
I’m gonna call you Harry.

Harold:
Don’t. It’s Harold.

Richie:
Hell yeah.

Oscar:
I like this kid. I need him in my life. He has structure.

Igor:
I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Scott:
We don’t listen to anything you say.

Oscar:
Why do you even try to give us advice?

Scott:
What do you want a tattoo of?

Harold:
The Punisher.

Scott:
The Punisher?

Oscar:
That’s tough, man. He could’ve said anything. He said The Punisher. [Scott shows his phone to Harold]

Scott:
I can do that. Is that it?

Harold:
Yeah that’s him.

Scott:
Are you sure?

Harold:
Yes.

Scott:
Do I have your legal permission to do this?

Harold:
Yes.

Scott:
That’s good enough for me. How about you guys?

Oscar:
Holds up in court.

Scott:
You guys heard it.

Igor:
He can’t give consent! He’s ten.

Scott:
Now hold still, okay? Because it is permanent.

Igor:
Guys, stop.

Oscar:
Put your game face on.

Scott:
Don’t worry, dude. This’ll just be on you for the rest of your life.

[Scott leans in and inks a brief line and Harold screams]

Harold:
I DON’T WANNA DO IT! I DON’T WANNA!

Scott:
I gotta finish it. Now there’s just a line. You’re gonna look stupid. [Harold runs away]

Richie:
Run little man, run!

Oscar:
Goddamn it. I f***ing believed in that kid.

Scott:
He seemed so tough at first but then immediately wasn’t.

Oscar:
That’s why I don’t f*** with millennials.

Scott:
Again, we are the millennials.

Oscar:
You keep saying that but I don’t know what that means.

Igor:
I regret my friendship with you guys.

[Raymond knocks on Margie's front door and she answers]

Raymond:
Hello, my name is Raymond Bishop. This is my son, Harold. Say hello, Harold.

Harold:
I’m sorry.

Margie:
What’s going on?!

Raymond:
It seems your son was down in the woods giving out free tattoos and my son was one of his victims!

Margie:
I don’t understand! How do you know it was my son?! How did you get this address?!

Raymond:
I have my ways. Believe me, I have my ways.

Margie:
You a cop?!

Raymond:
No I’m a fireman. I work for a living. [Grabs Harold's right arm and holds it up] Look at this! You believe this?! See that there?! See that line?! I don’t know if you burn these off or what but we’re taking care of this and you’re paying for it, you understand me?!

Margie:
Scott! [To Raymond] I’m so sorry. There’s an aesthetic laser at the hospital where I work and it can completely remove it! I get a discount! I’m gonna pay for the whole thing! I don’t know what I’m saying! I feel terrible!

Raymond:
You should feel terrible! Look at that!

Scott:
What’s up? Oh f***!

Raymond:
There he is! Get your ass over here!

Scott:
Hey, he said he was eighteen!

Raymond:
He looks like he’s four you f***ing moron!

Scott:
He consented!

Harold:
He’s lying!

Scott:
Harold, come on!

Raymond:
Of course he’s lying! You can’t have consent! He’s nine years old!

Harold:
Dad, let’s go! You’re embarrassing me!

Raymond:
We’re not going anywhere! He’s just a little kid! What the f*** is wrong with you?!

Scott:
He was roaming around in the woods, he wanted a tattoo! Where were you?!

Raymond:
I was at f***ing work!

Scott:
F*** you!

Raymond:
If I was you I would shut your f***ing mouth because I can call the cops right now and have your ass thrown in jail!

Scott:
For what?!

Raymond:
For sticking needles in a kid’s arm, you f***ing dope! Did you even raise him? Did you even raise him?!

Margie:
There’s no reason to call the cops! I can handle this and I can also handle disciplining him!

Raymond:
Well clearly you can’t or you wouldn’t have a middle-aged son still living at home, tattooing minors against their will.

Harold:
I asked him to do it.

Scott:
That’s right. That’s my man.

Raymond:
Go wait in the car, Harold. And don’t raise your voice at me either.

Scott:
Later Harold.

Raymond:
Don’t say goodbye to my kid.

[Harold crosses the street to the car]

Raymond:
Look both ways! Look both ways!

Harold:
I am!

Raymond:
Watch your mouth!

Margie:
[To Scott] Go to your room!

Scott:
For your information I am not middle-aged. I am a twenty-four year old man and I am going to my room because I f***ing want to! [Scott leaves]

Raymond:
What kind of animal are you raising in this house? I’m bringing you the bill, I don’t care what it costs. I mean what the f*** is going on around here?

Margie:
Just give me a day to arrange the laser!

Raymond:
You know something?! Is his father home?! Where’s his dad?! I don’t want to f***ing yell at you!

Margie:
He’s deceased.

Raymond:
Well I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure if he was still around he would agree with the fact that you should still pay for it.

[Scott walks into tattoo parlor with the owner tattooing a muscular white supremacist]

Scott:
Did-did you happen to get a chance to take a look at the, uh...

Tattoo parlor owner Yeah, I looked at your book. I mean, I drew like that, too, when I was 14.

Tattoo parlor owner:
From what I saw, you don't really have the basics, so you got to figure that out.

Scott:
Well, yeah, that's why I'm here. I mean, I was hoping I can learn from you.

Tattoo parlor owner:
Right, well, um, you'd be my apprentice. Uh, you'll be a slave to the shop.

Scott:
Hey, man. As long as I get to tattoo people, right?

Tattoo parlor owner:
No. Never. Until I say. Uh, you'll be sterilizing needles, washing my car, taking the trash out. I mean, you're basically our b*tch.

Scott:
So, how much will I be, like, making here?

Tattoo parlor owner:
Dick.

Scott:
Dick.

Tattoo parlor owner:
Okay, well... It's a long line of people who want this job, man.

Scott:
How do I, like, pay my rent?

Tattoo parlor owner:
That one right there is not my problem. It's your first day, you're already complaining.

Scott:
It's kind of weird, huh?

Tattoo parlor owner:
Yeah, let's not do this. You should take a walk. P*ssy.

Scott:
All right.

Tattoo parlor owner:
Well, could I ask you a question? If I did work here?

Client:
Why is he still here?

Scott:
Let's say some idiot walks in, right? And he wants to get a tattoo of a Confederate flag wrapped around the Grim Reaper. You could tell that guy to go f*** himself, right? 'Cause that's a ridiculous tattoo to ask for.

Tattoo parlor owner:
It's not my place to judge people, man. I don't do that.

Scott:
Well, what if another guy walked in and he wanted to get a tattoo of his dead friend James on his chest, right? But you know James, and you don't want to give him the tattoo, 'cause you know James and he's an a**hole and that the world's better off without him. What do you do then?

Client:
You have a death wish?

Scott:
No, I don't have a death wish. But that lady on the motorcycle does. She's not even wearing any underwear. She's gonna burn her p*ssy.

Client:
[Gets up and starts menacing Scott] Do you want to do this?! You really want to f***ing do this?!

Scott:
I don't want to do anything with you. I just want to know who killed James. Was it the Confederate flag man? Was it the motorcycle lady? [Client lunges at Scott who runs away]

Raymond:
All right? It'll be fine. [Scott walks into the kitchen]

Margie:
Hey! Come on in. Come have breakfast with us. I made pancakes and I made the sausage that you like. An omelet? Come sit.

Raymond:
These eggs are spectacular with the onions and the peppers. I love it.

Scott:
Did he spend the night?

Margie:
Yeah he slept here. In this house. I’m an adult, I can do that.

[Scott and Margie both sit. Ray gestures for her to begin her preposition]

Margie:
I need to talk to you about something. I was thinking that it’s time to think about getting your own apartment.

Scott:
What? Why would you say that?

Margie:
You are so awesome and I think I’ve been there for you too much. Sometimes in life the thing that’s motivating is when people don’t have that safety net.

Scott:
Right but I need that safety net because I don’t have my sh*t together. Why are you doing this? Is this because of him?

Margie:
No it’s just you’re twenty-four years old now.

Raymond:
Phelps had a fistful of gold medals by twenty-four.

Scott:
Why are you talking?

Raymond:
I’m just giving you some perspective. Wayne Gretzky had like 96 goals when he was twenty-four. Roger Staubach graduated West Point, won a Heisman Trophy, fought in the Vietnam War and then joined the Cowboys by the time he was twenty-four.

Scott:
I don’t know who that is. Who gives a f***?

Margie:
I think that maybe you’re ready and you just don’t even know it.

Scott:
So you’re kicking me out?

Margie:
No I just want you to get your own apartment by summer.

Scottt:
Right so you’re kicking me out of the house.

Raymond:
It’s nine months from now. You could have a baby in nine months.

Scott:
Are you moving in? Are you trying to push me out? What did I do? I though we were cool.

Raymond:
Let’s all be adults here. Your mother has worked very hard for a very long time and I’m gonna retire in a couple of years so things are gonna change around here but in a good way. We think you can do great things.

Scott:
I know I’m gonna do great things. I don’t need you to tell me that. What’s going on? I don’t like this.

Margie:
Be that as it may, until you leave, which is gonna be good for you and it’s gonna be motivating, you’re gonna have to pull your weight a little more around here. And one thing we thought would help you contribute and wouldn’t be hard to do is to help Ray bring his kids back and forth to school when he can’t do it because of work.

Raymond:
Like now. Like today.

Scott:
You’re joking, right? You want me to take your kid to school? The kid I tattooed?

Raymond:
I got two kids. The other’s seven.

Scott:
You’re gonna make me babysit your kids? I do drugs!

Raymond:
Looks like you’re walking.

Margie:
And thank you.

Scott:
I’m not cool with any of this, okay? And where do you expect me to live? And with what money? You know I’m a f***ing bum, right? This is f***ed up! Seriously. Especially after last night, all that bonding boy bullshit. You’re full of sh*t, man. You’re a f***ing liar. I’m gonna go walk your kids.

[Kelsey is at a restaurant with her date Jake]

Jake:
I gotta be honest Kelsey, you look exactly like your picture. Or you’re thicker, more robust.

Kelsey:
Thank you. It’s a compliment. You look a little bit like Antonio Banderas if I squint really hard.

Jake:
Please squint all night long! That's great, you look, Chelsea, I mean- Kelsey. I'm sorry.

Kelsey:
That's alright. What's your name again?

Jake:
Um, it's Jake, [Scott appears clearing tables] sorry about that. So, uh, what do you do?

Kelsey:
I’m studying to work in the city. I want to make Staten Island a great place again.

Jake:
Staten Island’s already cool, what’re you talking about?

Kelsey:
Yeah it is. You’re the first person here to say that.

Jake:
It’s the best place on Earth. At least on the East Coast.

Kelsey:
[To Scott] Excuse me. Oh. Hey.

Scott:
Oh, hey. Hey.

Kelsey:
Hello. Hey.

Scott:
Would you guys want still or sparkling water?

Kelsey:
[To date] Um, you pick.

Jake:
I’m more of a sparkling guy.

Kelsey:
Sparkling it is.

Jake:
I do like tequila if I could get a Patrón with a rock?

Kelsey:
That’s fine.

Jake:
Tequila on rock. You guys want warm bread? Or olive oil.

[Kelsey gets offended, then gets up and walks off]

Deena:
Oh bro, did you scare off another customer? What's wrong with you?! [Scott takes off after Kelsey and Deena turns to Kelsey's date] I’m so sorry about that. He has like, nepotism, you know?

Kelsey's date:
Is that a disease?

Deena:
Yeah. It’s a bad one.

...

Kelsey:
I brought that guy here to make you jealous so that you could give a f***!

Scott:
To make me jealous?!

Kelsey:
You don’t seem jealous or upset at all!

Scott:
I do care. Of course I care.

Kelsey:
I chose the hottest guy on Tinder. Look at me! Look at my tits. It’s literally the Eiffel Tower holding them up in there.

Scott:
You look great.

Kelsey:
Thank you.

Scott:
Please don’t cry here. Please.

Kelsey:
You look awful.

Scott:
What do you mean?

Kelsey:
Your skin looks see-through and the circles around your eyes are so dark you look like an anorexic panda.

Scott:
I know I do.

Kelsey:
You always look sick and pale like you have a disease but you don’t know it yet. You literally look like if I touched you, you’d just turn to dust.

Scott:
I’m sorry. I’m not doing very well.

[Kelsey starts leaving]

Scott:
What do I tell your date?

Kelsey:
Tell him to f*** off. I met him ten minutes ago. He’s a DJ.

Raymond:
I knew I smelled you. The f***, Scott?

Scott:
What?

Raymond:
Huh? What, are you spying on me now? You Magnum, P.I.?

Scott:
What?!

Raymond:
Telling your mom that I'm homeless? You think it's funny to tell her that I'm a loser?!

Scott:
What are you talking... No. What?!

Raymond:
What do you mean, what am I talking about?! You've been speak... You talking to my ex-wife?!

Scott:
Uh, yeah. She's actually a really nice person.

Raymond:
Oh, is she?! Why don't you marry her?!

Scott:
Yeah.

Raymond:
Why don't you marry her and see what the f*** happens?!

Scott:
Hey, I'm just trying to protect my mom from you, okay?! You're a f***ing psychopath!

Raymond:
Oh, I'm a psychopath?!

Scott:
Yeah.

Raymond:
I've been nothing but nice to you! I tried giving you direction. You're too busy smoking your f***ing weed. And all you've been doing is trying to destroy everything that I have with Margie.

Scott:
Because you're a f***ing loser, dude! You're a, you're a degenerate gambler in your-your mid-50s, who bets on the Jets! Uh, who... Have you not learned anything about betting?!

Raymond:
The Jets are gonna come back!

Scott:
No, they're not! They got three number one f***ing picks! They're never gonna come back! They're never gonna come back!

Raymond:
I'm trying to give your mother a good life!

Scott:
I... No, you're not, okay? You're a piece of sh*t, dude. You're a f***ing drug addict!

Raymond:
I'm a piece of sh*t?!

Scott:
Yeah, you're a piece of sh*t!

Raymond:
I'm a f***ing loser?! You're the biggest loser I ever met in my f***ing life!

Scott:
Oh, really? You should know.

Raymond:
Yeah?!

Scott:
Yeah!

Raymond:
You surround yourself with them!

Scott:
Oh, yeah? Why don't you try me?

Raymond:
Oh, really?

Scott:
Why don't you try me?!

Raymond:
Yeah, yeah, yeah... This ain't gonna go how you think it's gonna go! So why don't you get the f*** out of my... Really?! [Shoves Scott and knocking him to the ground]

Scott:
F***ing a**hole! [Gets up and lunges at Raymond]

Raymond:
Throw a f***ing punch at me?!

Scott:
Oh, yeah.

Raymond:
Huh? You gonna cool off?! Come here, cocksucker! You gonna cool off?! I'll f***ing cool you off. Yeah, I'll f***ing cool you off! [Picks up Scott and throws him into the pool]

Raymond:
Hey, you cool off now?! You're in there 'cause of your own actions!

Scott:
Are you kidding me?! I'm gonna tell my mom you tried to drown me!

Raymond:
In an aboveground pool?! You're, like, f***ing eight feet tall!

Scott:
You're lucky my dad isn't here! He would kick your ass!

Raymond:
Oh, yeah? Well, guess what, I knew your dad! Okay?!

Scott:
Yeah?!

Raymond:
Yeah, I crossed paths with him a number of times! And you know what? He was even a bigger a**hole than you are! [Scott gets out of pool and lunges at Raymond, throwing a punch with Raymond grabbing Scott around waist, grappling him and maneuvering him to the ground] All right, that's it, that's it! It's over! It's over. Huh?! Huh?! You like that?! You like that?!

Scott:
Ow. Jesus! F***ing a**hole!

Raymond:
Come on, tap out! Tap out!

Scott:
F*** you! No! Get me out! Let me out! No! No! Let me out! Oh, my God! Get me out!

Margie:
What's the matter with you?!

Scott:
He's a psycho.

Raymond:
No. We're just talking!

Margie:
About what?!

Raymond:
About him telling you lies about me.

Scott:
He's an animal. He picked me up and he threw me in the pool. All right? He has to go.

Margie:
No, I need you to go. Now.

Scott:
What? Why-why me? He-he's the one who started it.

Raymond:
Yeah, that's right. Get the hell out of here. And get a job and a life while you're at it. Your freeloading days are over.

Margie:
You, too. Get going.

Raymond:
Wait, what did I do?!

Margie:
You put your hands on my son! You're not respecting my family!

Scott:
You're an animal!

Raymond:
Look, okay, just listen. Just calm down.

Margie:
I don't have to calm down! What are... You're attacking my son! And you're, and you're making up lies! You made... You tricked me into thinking you're a good guy! You're not a good guy!

Raymond:
Right. Mm-hmm.

Margie:
You're a f***ing small guy.

Raymond:
Margie, Margie, just let me explain this to you. Just let me talk to you, okay?

Margie:
You are not in control of me!

Raymond:
Okay, okay, listen, all right? Okay, you don't have all the information you need. All right? Scott is acting out 'cause he's afraid to move on with his life. It's no different than when the Boston Red Sox finally won a World Series, okay?

Margie:
Oh, my God.

Raymond:
They had, they had to get to a point where-where they believed, okay?

Margie:
Just shut up.

Raymond:
All-all...

Margie:
Shut the f*** up.

Raymond:
All I did was just ask him a question, and he flipped out. So I put him in the water, which is soft. I diffused the situation.It was what-what m-my training's all about. I-I wa... I was totally diffusing the situation.

Margie:
Do you ever shut up?! Do you ever just shut the f*** up?! You just talk and you talK and you talk and you don't know what you're saying. It makes no sense. It's like you picked up all these little pieces of information from all over. They don't make any sense. They're fragments. No sense. Nonsense.

Raymond:
I-I'm not talking.

Margie:
I've had it up to here. I'm done. Both of you, get your sh*t out of here! [She turns and walks away]

Raymond:
Margie. Oh, f***.

Scott:
Well... Well, where do we go now?!

Raymond:
What are you asking me for?! You created this whole mess, you f***ing schmuck.

Scott Carlin:
Hi, this guy's been either shot or stabbed, I don't know, he's been kinda vague about it.

Admissions Nurse in ER:
Sir, have you been shot? Stabbed?

Shot or Stabbed Victim:
No, I fell in a thornbush.

Kelsey:
What are those numbers on your arm?

Scott Carlin:
That's the date my dad died.

Scott Carlin:
Anyway, have a great day at school, ahh... . I hope its not shitty, and... umm... yea... give your sister a kiss goodbye.

Harold:
We don't do that.

Scott Carlin:
Just do it. [Harold kisses Kelly on the forehead] See, wasn't that nice? Now if she dies tomorrow, you'll remember that, that you kissed her goodbye. Have a good day at school.

Harold:
Later man.

Scott Carlin:
Pay attention.

Kelly:
Why would I die?

Scott Carlin:
I dunno... you never know what is going to happen. You think you're immortal?

Scott Carlin:
Ray! I cant sleep, I never go to sleep this early.

Ray Bishop:
Ohh, you know what you should do - you should shut the f*** up. Go to sleep.

Scott Carlin:
Thanks.

Ray Bishop:
Can't go to sleep... you should dip your weed in NyQuil you f***ing drug addict.

Scott Carlin:
We're like the only place that New Jersey looks down on.

Scott Carlin:
Oh I trained her in the car. She's not going to break.

Scott Carlin:
You're going to make me babysit your kids?! I'm on drugs.

Scott Carlin:
If you have money, why would you ever live in Staten Island?

Scott Carlin:
I just thought she looked really good in those pants. Thought that was a nice thing to say, I didn't know I'd get MeToo'd for it.

Scott Carlin:
When we go out in public, people look at me like I'm kidnapped.

Igor:
I regret my friendship with you guys.

Kelsey:
Thanks for the sex. It was wonderful until you started talking.

Kelsey:
You look a little like Antonio Banderas, if I squint my eyes a bit.

Papa:
Your dad was a hero, and heroes are necessary, and they should be allowed to have families.

Oscar:
I haven't been high in a while but I still do it, I like that lifestyle.

Richie:
Obama ain't right. You got Obama wrong. Ain't nothing worse than that.

Claire Carlin:
You don't get to act all crazy your entire life because Dad died.