Frank: Wait. Here's one. "Poetry! Get to the point!"
Ray: Who could argue with that?
Frank: Yeah, yeah, yeah. "How about those poems that don't even rhyme? That is this man's definition of lazy."
Ray: My job is done here.
Frank: "Make up your mind, America, is it often or of-ten?"
Ray: Ha, you're the king of those. All right, I'm gonna go run and tell everybody.
Frank: Hey, Ray, what did you think of my column?
Ray: I thought it was great, Dad.
Frank: Thanks. "Amish people, friend or foe?"