Cliff: Well, all right, everybody. Drop what you're doing, stop the presses. Nobody's going to be making fun of Cliff Clavin anymore. That's for sure. Look, what I found in the trash of Mr. A. Hitler. Behold, exhibit "A."
Paul: What's this, a check stub here?
Cliff: It's a Social Security check stub, and it sickens me. To think that we Americans worked our fingers to the bone so Mr. Hitler could have creamed corn.
Paul: A cereal box?
Cliff: That's right, Paul, it's a cereal box. I guess we can determine that Trix are for kids and for der Fuhrer.
Rebecca: Cliff, what is that thing?
Cliff: This is the most sophisticated and high-tech listening device that money can buy. Gentlemen, say hello to Mr. Ear.
Frasier: Mr. Ear.
Cliff: That's right, you see, if I'm going to stop the Fourth Reich from happening, I have to know every move that Hitler makes. With this baby, I can hear a pin drop at 500 feet away. See those two chicks up there? I'll tell you exactly what they're talking about. They're talking about some stupid-looking yutz holding a... never mind. All right. Look, wish me luck, everybody. If I'm not back in two hours, call the Defense Department. Tell them Hitler's alive and living in my apartment building. They know the address.