Ray: I'm having lunch at the paper with the guys, and he just shows up. He starts telling us about writing. Telling us! When I left, he was teaching us about alliteration. So, fearing my father the freak I fled before there was a fatality.

Debra: "Frank Barone's 'l Was Just Thinking."' What is this?
Ray: It's his column.
Debra: His column?
Ray: His column. Yeah, he wants me to hand it to my editor.
Debra: Oh, you're kidding.
Ray: Look at this: "The chirp of the cricket has been replaced by the car alarm. God only knows what will replace the car alarm." What is that? What could that possibly mean? Oh, God, he's out of control!
Debra: "l like the smell of a freshly painted room as much as the next guy. But in the end, wallpaper is easier to clean." Hmm.
Ray: Yeah, all right, so he's right about that.

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?"