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I KILLED MY BROTHER!
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You see for me it's over. Over baby. I'm gonna turn myself in. After the wedding of course. After the wedding. Out of respect.
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I don't think that's a good idea.
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I said out of respect. Respect for you Fisher. For you and your wedding and your beautiful bride. There will be no more rain. You see where I am here?
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I love it. I just love, love, love, love it.
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Are you guys gonna fill this place with kids? You sure got room for them.
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We're in no hurry. I think we'll take some time to enjoy each other, enjoy our freedom before we surrender ourselves to kids.
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Take your time. I wish I had.
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We will.
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So where to on the honeymoon?
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Smart. Smart. Smart. Think big picture, take your time. I wish I had.
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That's our plan.
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Well, I just need your signature on these contracts and a deposit check so I can get the ball rolling.
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...We will compare these before photos with whatever form of degeneration presented to us in 24 hours, no matter how low, how vile...
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...embarrassing, shameful...
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...regression of Modern Man to his most primitive, apelike state...
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The stone age.
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The postVegas Man.
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A mutant species.
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Okay boys, smile!
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We don't say "love, honor and obey" anymore. And we don't say "till death do us part." Today we say, "respect, honor and cherish, as long as you both do love." How does that sound?
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I kind of like "till death do us part." I mean, this is forever. In sickness and in health, through good times and bad. Honey, what do you think?
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We don't think so. I mean, we just want the singing when I come out.
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Okay great. What will that be?
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We're just going to have the leader of the band sing alone with his guitar. Acoustic.
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What song?
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"You Send Me."
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Oh I know that. How does it go...
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You know, Darling you...you send me...Darling you ...You mend me. Honey, sing it for Judge Tower.
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Liz do you take Fisher to be your beloved husband, to respect, honor and cherish him till death do you part?
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I do.
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That ought to be about the end of that.
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Yup.
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No...No.
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How do you know she's dead.
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Boyd...I don't know man...It just seems to me that ever since you took Tony Robbins selfhelp thing...you're all fuckedup in the head.
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I got to agree with that.
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The first day.
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What?
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I told her that I have no idea what Adam was talking about in that letter.
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Did she believe you?
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I have no idea.
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You can tell when people believe you. It's obvious.
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Well I don't have that skill and if I had to guess I would say that in no way did she believe me.
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I'm thinking about maybe making a move.
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A move?
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Greenpeace.
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Greenpeace?
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Maybe go up to the North Pole, the Arctic. Tag polar bears with dart guns. I've always had a pretty good aim...
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Where's Boyd?
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Downstairs in the closet.
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He came to me early today, was talking about money, insurance money. Said he was gonna get what was his.
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My God...
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He said he was the Brain Trust. Said he was smarter than all of us. He started reading "Atlas Shrugged," staring at himself in the mirror.
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Did he try to kiss you?
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All week long.
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You alright?
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Yeah. I'm thinking about Micheal's Franco Harris fixation. You know how Micheal was always harping "Immaculate Reception?" I've seen that play. A lot of times...and I have to say this... Franco was lucky. Flat out, right place, right time. That's it. He was where the ball bounced. You get me?
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I guess.
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I'm saying it's luck. All luck. You work your entire life, all the training, focus, all the dedication, all irrelevant. Where does the ball bounce? My father spent his whole life trying to start a company, practiced every day, worked like a dog, finally got enough money. He's paid the dues, he's ready, does all the market research, picks his shot "Pup Corn."
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Pup corn?
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That's right, "Pup Corn." Doggie treats. Little snacks for dogs. He's figured it out. There is a hole in the market and he's going to fill it. Spends all our money, works himself into not two but three heart attacks getting this shit up. After fifteen months, the big day arrives, the first box of "Pup Corn" pops off the belt. He comes running home with that box, pulls us out of school. We all pile into the living room, must be fifty of us, and in comes "Shelmer," our 8 year old mutt. "Here Shelmer," my dad cries. He's got that little fucking pup corn in his hand, "Here girl." This dog will eat anything, she eats rocks, anything. She walk's up to my dad's hand, looks down at the little pellet, licks it once, turns around, walks out of the room. Shelmer rejected the "Pup Corn." Fifteen months of my dad's life, right there. Not one dog ate Pup Corn. Not one. Three months later, "Pup Corn" shuts down. Chapter Eleven. My father never got over it. Never.
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There.
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Where?
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Yeah?
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I think there's a lot of truth in that. I'm gonna pursue some options. I want to join that Big Brother thing.
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That's a good one.
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I want a black one. A little black brother. That's a big problem it seems to me. Lack of racial integration. That's a big one. You think?
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I think you'd make an excellent Big Brother.
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That's what I'm thinking.
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Well that ought to be about the end of that.
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Yup.
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That's just insecurity.
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I don't know. She's really been stressing out.
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Just insecurity. Nut crunching gut splinters.
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What does that mean?
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It means she's insecure.
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About what?
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Mike Brenn. Yes. Yes. 14.3 at 7.5 for 6. At 29.83 at 9. I'm amazed the windows don't blow out of their fucking sockets with all the repressed, asspuckering rage in these soulless lizards.
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I just want her to be happy.
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Same alarm clock every morning, same two pops on the same snooze button... Micheal Brenn. Yes...Yes... Hold your horses. Okay. Got it. 6.321 at 17.28 for 6.6 at 9.256 out at 3432.343. Same shower, towel, toothbrush, razor, hair gel. It's a fucking epidemic Fisher and you better start addressing it. You're getting married and I'm not going to candycoat it. It just gets worse. It's an eighteen wheel cement mixer that will crush every bone in your body.
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I'm not breathing right.
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You're not breathing right?
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Lately I'll just start getting lightheaded, dizzy, and I realize I haven't breathed in like two minutes.
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I don't care for him.
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He's your brother.
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So?
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I'll take a ride.
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Go for it.
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Come on.
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I'm getting married...
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I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...
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Dear God...I don't know how to pray.
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Just go ahead and say what's on your mind.
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Where did you get that?
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At the newsstand on 3rd.
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Do you hear buzzing Fish?
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Buzzing?
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Yeah. I got some kind of buzzing. Like a zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz thing just chipping away in the back of my skull.
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I don't hear it.
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