The X-Files, Season 6

Mulder:
Let me get this straight: a free-spirited alien fell in love with baseball and ran away from the other non-fun-having aliens and made himself black, because that would prevent him from getting to the majors where his unspeakable secret might be discovered by an intrusive press and public and you're also implying that...

Arthur Dales:
You certainly have a knack for turning chicken salad into chicken spit.

Mulder:
You're also implying that this baseball-playing alien has something to do with the famous Roswell UFO crash of July '47, aren't you?

Arthur Dales:
You're just dying to connect the dots aren't you, son? Look, I give you some wood and I ask you for a cabinet. You build me a cathedral. I don't want a cathedral. I like where I live. I just want a place to put my TV. Understand my drift?

Mulder:
(pauses) Drift it is, sir.

Arthur Dales:
Trust the tale, Agent MacGyver, not the teller. That which fascinates us is by definition true. Speaking metaphorically, of course.

Mulder:
Okay, so was Ex a man who was metaphorically an alien or an alien who was metaphorically a man or a something in between that was literally an alien-human hybrid? (Dales sighs; hands Mulder alcohol) It's official. I am a horse's ass.