Narrator: George Sr. had used his considerable means to stage intricate scenarios to teach his children what he considered valuable life lessons.
George Sr.: I need help.
J. Walter Weatherman: I'll get my gear.
Narrator: Typically, these scenarios would involve a man named J. Walter Weatherman a one-time employee who lost his arm in a Bluth Company construction accident.
Young Gob: [hitting Buster] Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?
George Sr.: We're out of milk. I could have got it earlier if someone would have left a note. [tires screech] [kids scream] Why? If someone had left a note this- this innocent man would still have his arm. Why?!
J. Walter Weatherman: And that's why you always leave a note.

Michael: For God's sake, Dad, he's not dead. I need to do this soon, tonight. Down by the docks. I'm gonna make it like a drug deal went bad.
George Sr.: Tonight? No. It's Yontif. It's the first night of Yom Kippur.
Michael: Dad, that's just... That's one night, and it's back in September. That's okay. You've only been a Jew about two days.
George Sr.: Just try to talk to him.
Michael: Like you talked to me when I was growing up?
George Sr.: I thought you hated those lessons.
Michael: I did, but they worked. And they will work again.
George Sr.: Well, I'm done with them, because it was wrong, Michael.
Michael: Come on.
George Sr.: Your son is a timid, thoughtful boy. He's a scholar, like his grandfather. What time is it? Oh, almost sundown. I have to prepare for the Sabbath.
Michael: It's Tuesday.
George Sr.: Shh, shh, shh.

Michael: Hey, what you doin'?
George Michael: Nothing.
Michael: No? [checks George Michael's book] So, listen, your, uh, your Uncle Gob seems to think that he saw you down at the docks today. Was that you?
George Michael: No, no. Maybe it was the other George Michael, the singer-songwriter.
Michael: Yeah, that makes sense.