the division of joy

some greatness from hotshots....

 

Admiral Benson: I slipped on a crab. Who put that crab

there?

 

Lt. Commander Block: I don't see any crab.

 

Admiral Benson: Don't tell me. There were two crabs

they work in pairs.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: Call down to the galley and order up

some soup.

 

Lt. Commander Block: Yes, sir.

 

Admiral Benson: Ahhh... I love soup. At least I think

I love soup. Blasted shell! It's either soup or duck.

Which one do you shoot?

 

Lt. Commander Block: Duck, sir.

[Admiral Benson hits head on desk while ducking]

 

Lt. Commander Block: Are you alright, sir?

 

Admiral Benson: Of course I'm alright!

Why, what have you heard?

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: Oh, by the way I would like to

thank you for having us over for dinner the

other night. Cheryl and I thought the stroganoff

was marvelous.

 

Lt. Commander Block: But sir, we didn't have dinner

the other night.

 

Admiral Benson: Really? Then where the hell was I?

And who's this Cheryl?

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: You have the whitest white-part-of-the-eyes

I've ever seen. Do you floss?

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Admiral Benson: My eyes are ceramic. Caught a

bazooka round at Little Big Horn. Or was

it Okinawa? The one without the Indians.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Admiral Benson: Pete 'Dead Meat' Thompson is dead.

So is Mo Green, Tataglia, Barzini, the heads of all

the five families. It is at moments like these,

my dear friends, that we must ask ourselves:

"How can this not be part of some larger plan?"

Do good men like Dead Meat Thompson just blink out

one day like a bad bulb? I mean, one minute you're

in bed with a knockout gal... or guy, and the next,

you're a compost heap. Doesn't that bother any of you?

Because it scares the living piss outta me!

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: Those are some long legs...

 

Ramada Thompson: I just had them lengthened.

Now they go all the way up.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Admiral Benson enters the briefing room in riding pants]

Admiral Benson: Be seated! Ah... Many of you are

wondering what's wrong with my pants, well they

started running short on materials right before

they got to the knees so don't give me any shit.

Ah. I look out there on all you wonderful guys

and I say to myself "What I wouldn't give

to be 20 years younger... and a woman". You know,

I've personally flown over 194 missions and

I was shot down on every one. Come to think of it,

I've never landed a plane in my life.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: So... I guess you've been

with a man before...

 

Ramada Thompson: I'm a virgin.

I'm just not very good at it.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lt. Commander Block: Admiral Benson!

 

Admiral Benson: Really? That's my name too.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lt. Commander Block: How are ya, sir?

 

Admiral Benson: Hawaii? Goddamn it, Bill,

I'm supposed to be in California.

 

Lt. Commander Block: No, sir, this is California.

 

Admiral Benson: Well, gotta run. Good luck.

 

Lt. Commander Block: But, sir, this is your command.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: I could never find time for love.

It's too heavy. It's an anchor that drowns a man.

Besides, I got the sky, the smell of jet exhaust, my bike.

 

Pete 'Dead Meat' Thompson: A loner?

 

Topper Harley: No. I own it.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lt. Commander Block: Every aerial photo and

recon report indicate a defensive arsenal in

the D, and perhaps negative C, categories.

There's also some anti-aircraft squadrons.

They can send up an ack-ack umbrella high enough

to make any attack ineffective.

 

Admiral Benson: I don't have a clue what you're

talkin' about, Phil. Not a fucking clue.

I have a shell the size of a fist in my head.

Pork Chop Hill. The only way I can make this

goddamn toupee to stay on is by magnetizing

the entire upper left quadrant of my skull, so

you just go ahead and do what you do.

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Topper Harley: Interesting perfume.

 

Ramada Thompson: It's Vicks. I have a cold.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Jets start their engines]

Admiral Benson: God, that's loud. My ear canals are

very sensitive. They're stainless steel. Took a bullet

in Corregidor. Passed straight through.

[air controller gets his earplugs out]

 

Air Controller: We have these to hold down the sound, sir.

 

Admiral Benson: Oh, good. Thanks.

[swallows the earplugs]

Let's hope they do the trick.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: Mrs. Thompson, I know you must hate me

right now but there's something I want you to have.

I've been putting a little away for the past

ten years. It's not much. 2500. I wish I could do more.

 

Mrs. Mary 'Dead Meat' Thompson: Why, Topper

That's so sweet. Why, with the three million

that I won on this Lucky Lotto ticket, I can take

this 2500 and just blow it all on hats.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: Thompson wasn't that good

a pilot, anyway. He only had a small family.

The kids are a pain in the ass. The wife's

on the sauce. Hell, poor bastard's better off dead.

What size shoes do you wear?

 

Lt. Commander Block: A nine, sir.

 

Admiral Benson: Good. It's settled then.

We'll send Harley to the front.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Topper Harley: I've fallen for you like a blind roofer.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: Gentlemen, we've waited a long time

to hear this. In exactly five hours and 17 minutes,

we hit the enemy toast.

 

Lt. Commander Block: I think that's the enemy coast, sir.

 

Admiral Benson: Huh? Coast? That'll take a

little more planning. But it doesn't matter.

Our assignment is to knock out the nuclear-weapons

plant at Falafel Heights. The plant goes on line

in 12 hours and is heavily defended. Now, if you

have trouble hitting your objective, your

secondary targets are here and here:

an accordion factory and a mime school.

Good luck, gentlemen. Blink, take over.

Oh, there's one more thing.

(admiral gets accidentally hit by a metal pipe with a

loud ringing sound). I'll get that. It's probably for me.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim 'Wash Out' Pfaffenbach: Looks like enemy

aircraft at 12 o'clock.

 

Admiral Benson: Really? 12 o'clock?

Well, that gives us about...

[checks his watch]

25 minutes. Think I'll step out for a burger.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Topper Harley: Can you save him?

 

Doctor: Can't be sure. I'm not a very good doctor.

[Pushing "Dead Meat" through the hospital to emergency]

Quick, nurse check his penis.

See if its longer than mine.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pete 'Dead Meat' Thompson: I'm in a hospital!

What could go wrong?

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: God, I love a good funeral!

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Benson: [after his cap blew off and

landed in the sea] Holy Cow! My cap blew off!

Swing her round. We'll pick it up.

 

Officer: But, sir, we're on the mission.

 

Admiral Benson: Good thinking. We'll pick it up

on the way back. We gotta mark the spot, though.

Put Robinowitz in a life raft. Have him row in

circles until we return.

 

Officer: It could be days.

 

Admiral Benson: Then put some food in the life raft,

for god's sake, man. Do I have to think of everything?

We'll tape his favourite shows, he won't miss anything.

my god sits in the back of the limousine

my god comes in a wrapper of cellophane

my god pouts on the cover of the magazine

my god's a shallow little bitch trying to make the scene

 

I have arrived and this time you should believe the hype

I listened to everyone now I know that everyone was right

I'll be there for you as long as it works for me

I play a game

it's called insincerity

 

starfuckers

starfuckers

starfuckers, inc.

starfuckers

 

I am every fucking thing and just a little more

I sold my soul but don't you dare call me a whore

and when I suck you off not a drop will go to waste

it's really not so bad you know once you get past the taste, yeah

(asskisser)

 

starfuckers

starfuckers

starfuckers, inc.

starfuckers

 

all our pain

how did you think we'd get by without you?

you're so vain

I bet you think this song is about you

don't you?

don't you?

don't you?

don't you?

 

now I belong I'm one of the chosen ones

now I belong I'm one of the beautiful ones