Tobias: Someone from this family needs to speak for Buster. Who is Buster Bluth? A young, one-armed, Iraq War vet suffering from PTSD, raised by a young mother who had him at 17, whose only flaw was that she loved him too much.
Lucille: Actually, I was 37.
Tobias: Well, no one would believe that.
Lucille: You're hired.
Michael: No, you're not.

Michael: Mom, I'll handle this.
Lucille: Oh, Michael, let's be honest. Every time you handle things, they're mishandled.
George Sr.: Yeah, your mom's right. I mean, lately, you're just doing everything badly.
Gob: Yeah, Dad, nail his ass.
Tobias: [chuckles] I'll pile on to nailing that ass, Dad.

[flashback:]
Young Michael: Didn't Buster used to get past the window?
Young Gob: Mom tightened it when he tried to put that starfish in his mouth. Yeah, but he's had a good summer. He's made friends.
Young Buster: Actually, Mother made the friend for me. So I named it after her: Lucille Ball.

Lucille: This is what happens when you're rich and white in America. You happen to be caught on video, dumping some large person-type thing into the bay, and nobody thinks, "I wonder how long that guy has been working for the real killer?"
George Sr.: Yeah, and they jumped right to "He's the killer," and then don't think to add: "but it's nice he's giving the help the night off."

Lucille: What did you find out?
Barry: My friend spoke to the DA's office, and my lawyers were able to reduce my sentence to time served. Bad news? I can't spend any time with anybody under 25.
Lucille: About Buster.
Barry: And... they officially charged him with murder. First degree.

Lucille: How could this be happening? Buster couldn't have done this. I raised him totally by the book.
Gob: Mom, you had him on a leash until he was six.
Lucille: Well, if that leash screwed him up so badly, why does he still want to wear it?
Michael: Guys, it's not time to play the blame game, okay? Even though they do say, in most cases, something happens in childhood and, usually, the person that raises them is to blame. But that's experts.
Lucille: I see what you're doing. Don't you try to pin this on Lupe. She had her own family to raise, too.
Michael: Boy, Mom brings up a very good point.

Michael: So, now that we've gotten Tobias completely ruled out as ringmaster, maybe we can talk about Buster and maybe getting him a lawyer.
Barry: Oh! I should have led with this. I have been officially disbarred. I can't handle Buster's case or anybody under 25.
Michael: Saves me an awkward conversation.

Lucille: That's right. Because when we sell Fakeblock, we give the money right back to the Chinese before they get angrier.
George Sr.: Angrier?
Lucille: I didn't tell you, but they left a message saying that they hope their gift was enough to "get us back on our feet."
George Sr.: They're- They're threatening our feet?
Michael: You don't think these Chinese would first try to, I don't know, ding your credit rating?
Lucille: It's their culture. Dusty was right. I will say this for Saddam Hussein. With him, you didn't have to guess. It was very direct. "I'll chop this off, I'll chop that off."
George Sr.: Right. With him, you knew where you stood. Or- Or couldn't.

Michael: Yeah, I just I can't have my son in any danger.
Lucille: That's why I said you should fire him. That's what I'd do if it were one of my kids. Did you want me to fire him for you?
Michael: No, thank you, Mom. That's very nice of you. I mean, it's not... It's not nice. Sorry. It's quick. Very, very quick of you to offer, but George Michael and I are finally close again, and, uh, I didn't inherit your love of firing family. And certainly not him.
George Sr.: Honey, I know it's not family, but maybe we'll have you do a big layoff around Christmas.
Lucille: Oh, my God. Are we already talking about Christmas layoffs?

Gob: [on the phone] Wow, this is perfect. Michael plans a little "work event" during the weekmid. Right? That's just... Look at me.
Adhir: I can't see you.
Gob: Comply! I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that Michael didn't want me to know about this because I'm the president of Fakeblock. It's why he planned it so early, isn't it?
Adhir: Uh, Gob, really? In fairness, it is a Thursday at twenty to four.
Gob: Exactly, and everyone knows the workday doesn't start until nine to five.