Debra: You know, Ray, I don't want you to ever get me another gift again, because every time you do, it just makes me realize how little you care. Merry Christmas, Ray.
Ray: Okay, now you're becoming my mother.
Debra: What?!
Ray: Let me finish! Look, the only reason I ever put any thought into my mother's gift is because she's, uh...
Robert: Materialistic.
Ray: No.
Robert: Yes.
Ray: Yes! Kitchen stuff, that's all she cares about. I don't think of you that way. You always used to say, "I don't care about anything as long as we're all happy and healthy." And look at us we're all happy and healthy. [Debra glares at Ray] We're all healthy. For now. Isn't that the only thing that matters? I mean, come on, it's Christmas. What about Jesus? Huh? You think he cared about gettin' a bunch of gifts on his birthday? Rum-pum-pum-pum. That's all he wanted.
Robert: That's true. Rum-pum-pum-pum.
Ray: Look, I'm sorry I lied. I- I lied that night about having a great gift for you, and I lied about coming up with the "Cuckoo-bird" book. And I know... I know I took all the credit for it, but at least you're not going to the Ice Capades! I'm sorry. I stink at this. But it doesn't mean I don't care about you. In fact, I wouldn't lie half as much if I didn't.