Marie: You don't understand. This is the reason I have to send my letter. It's from my cousin Theresa. It came yesterday. Here, read.
Debra: "Merry Christmas and season's greetings to old friends and new friends, dear friends and true friends."
Marie: Enough, enough. I can't anymore.
Debra: I thought you like Theresa.
Marie: I love her, but read this here. "Our choir sang at the White House. My roses were featured in 'Good Housekeeping'." Look at all of those exclamation points. You'd think she pulled the Pope out of quicksand
or something!

Marie: I guess I'm just trying to make myself sound as important as Theresa. But what am I? I've got my kids,
I've got my grandkids, him over there. It's okay. I'll just let the world read about me in Theresa's letter.
Debra: What did she write about you?
Marie: Not much. How much is there, really?
Debra: Marie.
Marie: Third page, second paragraph.
Debra: "We saw Marie and her family at Kate Kelly's wedding. They seemed to be doing well in their cozy situation, living a stone's throw from each other... not that they'd ever throw stones, ha ha." Oh! She's a bitch!
Marie: Listen, I would never say that, but it's nice to hear.
Ray: Well, wait. What's so bad?
Debra: "Not that they'd ever throw stones, ha ha"? She's saying we don't get along. Where does somebody get off writing that?

Ray: All right, let's see what you wrote. "Robert is an in-demand bachelor, happily playing the field."
Robert: That's right.
Ray: "Robert loves to dance, and has been known to boogie the night away." So let me get this straight... you've broadened the definition of the term "boogie" to include staying home by yourself eating Wheat Thins?
Robert: I am a dancer!

Frank: [as everyone bickers] Hey! Hey, hold it, hold it! I'm hungry.
Marie: You'll have to wait. Debra and I have to finish our letter.
Ray: Look what they write about you in here, Dad.
Frank: What do you mean? What's it say?
Ray: All they do is list your favorite cable channels, and then they say, "His love affair with bacon continues."
Frank: Is the Surgery Channel on there, Marie?
Marie: First on the list.
Frank: I'm good.

Frank: I've wasted the last 10 years of my life.
Marie: Not now, Frank!
Frank: I didn't do any of the stuff on here! Now what the hell am I? Just a list of cable channels and a big, stinking pile of bacon waiting to die!
Robert: Big deal! At least you weren't competing with someone your entire life. You were your own man!
Frank: "Were your own man"? Past tense? You can't wait, can you?
Ray: Hey, don't worry, Dad. You're still alive, Just like I'm "still" a writer.
Marie: I don't want to hear this kind of talk! We should all be counting our blessings!
Frank: What blessings? Why did you write a Christmas letter? Look what you did!
Debra: Hey, it's not too late to do all the things on that list.
Frank: "See Frank Sinatra in concert"?

Robert: Why'd you even have to write that letter? It's the letter that makes us sound bad.
Frank: Get rid of the letter.
Ray: Yeah, yeah.
Debra: No! We worked all afternoon on this!
Marie: It's our Christmas letter.
Frank: I want out of it. I forbid you to use my name or likeness.

Debra: Hi, Marie.
Marie: Oh, hi, dear.
Debra: Listen, thanks for watching the kids. I really needed to get to the dentist.
Marie: Oh, I think it's wonderful you take all this time for yourself.
Debra: Thank you.

Debra: What are you working on there?
Marie: Oh, it's a Barone family Christmas letter. You know, I want to keep people up-to-date on what we've all
been doing.
Debra: Well, don't forget to mention my new filling.
Marie: Maybe next year. These have to go out this afternoon. I'll go round up the kids.
Debra: Okay.
[After Marie rushes out of the kitchen, Debra picks up the letter Marie was drafting and reads it. She gasps repeatedly.]
Debra: Oh, lady, you are out of your ever-loving mind!

Debra: Yeah, but she's mailing those delusions to everybody. People are gonna think it's true! It'll be, "Thank God Marie lives close enough to help that idiot woman and her dirty family!"

Debra: So you don't like it that Theresa's doing well?
Marie: Oh, it's not that. You know me. I don't bother about petty jealousy.
Ray: [chokes on his biscotti] Yeah. That is not your style.
Marie: That's right... I just want people to read about me and think, "Marie is doing well, too."
Debra: I understand, but can't you write a letter that makes you look good without making me look so...
Ray: Doofusy?