Narrator: Unaware that he was being cuckolded by his brother, George, Sr. was struggling to find money to bribe Herbert Love.
Hors D'oeuvre Server: Didn't someone die in one of these things?
George Sr.: Oh, no, not in one of ours.
Narrator: Although his pitch had lost some of its luster.
George Sr.: And, you know, I mean, it's better than dying in the snow. I mean, not that you'll die, but if you had to choose... Uh, I mean Brr! You know?
Hors D'oeuvre Server: Mmm-hmm. Well, I'll think about it. Would you like a mini-quiche?
George Sr.: Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought you were a successful Republican strategist. I'm so sorry.
Hors D'oeuvre Server: Why, 'cause I'm black?
George Sr.: Oh, no...

George Sr.: How are you? Are you good? Do you have any money?
Lindsay: Not really. Oh. Oh, except for a $50,000 check your wife sent to my daughter for plastic surgery. What kind of a woman does that?
George Sr.: I thought there was no money left.
Lindsay: Oh, no. Oh, no.
George Sr.: Well, that's awful. I mean, she's just precious the way she is. Does Maisie even know about this?
Lindsay: No. Thank God. And her name is Maeby.
George Sr.: You don't think Maisie's cuter? You know what I want to do? I want to take this, and I want to deposit it in a trust fund that she can't open until she's 21 .
Lindsay: I guess I can't use it anyway.
George Sr.: Are you kidding me? You are the most beautiful little girl I know. And if you have any more work, your cartilage is going to collapse.

Narrator: And that's when George, Sr. finally tipped a black man.
George Sr.: Got the check.
Herbert Love: Ooh! Hey, you got the check.
George Sr.: Third party.
Herbert Love: Oh, man! I am going to put this on my wall.
Narrator: George, Sr. left the hotel hoping he'd accomplished something.

Oscar: And you lied to me. You told me you bought this property to live on. No, you bought this property to put up a wall.
George Sr.: I told one lie, but I was going to share the money with you. Two lies.
Oscar: And why do I think that you charge more than $5 for lemonade?
George Sr.: Three small lies. Now, will you do me a favor? Just get in the tent. Gob's getting rid of the bees, and we'll push the matinee till 3:00.
Oscar: No, I'm sick and tired of being in that hut pretending to be you. Maybe I should go out there and pretend to be you. So, goodbye, George. This is the last you'll see of me. Just gonna use the can for one second.

Narrator: George, Sr. headed up north to see his wife before his brother could, but he soon found out he was too late by a day.
Lucille: [on the phone] I know what you're coming up to do to me.
George Sr.: Right. What?
Lucille: Yesterday, you were amazing. Georgie, I can't stop thinking about it. You haven't been like that in years.
George Sr.: Oh, right. You mean, slow-witted?
Lucille: I hope you're ready for more of the same today. [growls playfully]
George Sr.: Uh... Oh.
Narrator: George, Sr. had a few problems. His brother was sleeping with his wife, the property he was going to sell to the government to build the US wall on was in Mexico. And his sweat lodge colony had just collapsed.

George Sr.: If my identical twin brother can get it up, then shouldn't I?
Dr. Norman: Have you had any sexual feeling at all lately?
George Sr.: No.
Dr. Norman: You know, the Hopi Indians believe that this spot here, when manipulated, can create sexual feeling.
George Sr.: That's my penis.
Dr. Norman: Well, you don't have to tell me.

Dr. Norman: [inhales] Sorry, had the old thinking cap on. Let's go to the lists.
Narrator: And Doctor Norman proceeded to run through a checklist of alternative medicine questions.
Dr. Norman: Okay, did you drink some water that might have a homeopathic memory of some molecule?
George Sr.: Do you keep track of the molecules you ingest?
Dr. Norman: Well, with homeopathy, it's the molecules you don't ingest. But I'm the one who can get hard, so let's focus on you.
Narrator: He then went on to explore some supernatural or high-concept premise possibilities.
[montage:]
Dr. Norman: Any earthquakes in a Chinese restaurant while you were trying to prove something to your mother?
George Sr.: No.
Dr. Norman: Any wishes you may have phrased badly, or while a child was blowing out a candle?
Dr. Norman: Have you come across any ancient games, let's say, glowing games, either board-based or carnival-based, that you may have played against the wishes of your best friend?
George Sr.: No.

Dr. Norman: Curses, hexes, spells, shaman, medicine men?
George Sr.: Wait. I did hallucinate one ancient foreboding warrior harbinger while I chewed maca root about a year ago. Could that be something?
Dr. Norman: [inhales] No, it's not the maca. Your body wants the maca. It's not the maca.
Narrator: But finally, out of desperation, he turned to Western medicine.
Dr. Norman: Okay, tell you what, let's get some film on you. I'd like you to get on an MRI machine and try to ride it to climax. I'm gonna send you over to Orange County Imaging. They do a ton of that.
George Sr.: Okay, do I get magazines?
Dr. Norman: Yeah. I'll write you a scrip for that. They got a place right around the corner that plays ball.
George Sr.: Thank you.
Dr. Norman: Oh! [bleep] run.

Michael: Dad, what are you doing here?
George Sr.: I wanted to speak to you in person.
Michael: Then you're here to apologize, is that right?
George Sr.: Sure.
Narrator: Although, he covered pretty well.
George Sr.: And of course to see you at Orange County Imagine.
Michael: I went to you for a simple signature, and you told me to go to hell.
Narrator: Actually, it was the newly potent Oscar, who, like one of Gob's sick bees, was pollinating one barren flower after another, who told Michael to go to hell. Which is how George, Sr. was left with just Senor Senoritas, and that's when he got a lead on his wall problem.

Narrator: Well Michael could see that his brother was unhappy and that his life had not worked out the way he had hoped.
Michael: Things are incredible for me. I'm having an incredible year. I am a movie producer now, producing a movie. So they've got me in this enormous office. I told 'em I don't want to be driving to Beverly Hills every single day, so they put me in an enormous office just over here. Rental.
Gob: My personal life is off the charts. I've met someone. Can't really give you any information. Kind of famous-y.
Michael: Well, good for you. I also met someone.
Gob: Have you?
Michael: Also famous-y. Can't give you any information.