George: I still don't see why I can't ask her about my arm.
Elaine: She's a physical therapist. She doesn't want to have to deal with that outside of the office.
George: Why not?
Elaine: Because it is what she does.
George: I love these people! You can't ask them questions. They're so mentally gifted that we mustn't disturb the delicate genius unless it's in the confines of an office! When huge sums of money are involved, then the delicate genius can be disturbed!
Elaine: George, you got a little something, right here.
George: [wiping face] These people think they're so important!

Donald: [o.s.] Okay, history. This is for the game. How you doing over there? Not too good.
George: All right, bubble boy. Let's just play. "Who invaded Spain in the 8th century?"
Donald: That's a joke. The Moors.
George: Oh, no. I'm so sorry. It's the "Moops". The correct answer is, the "Moops".
Donald: Moops? Let me see that. [takes card with gloved hand] That's not Moops, you jerk. That's Moors. It's a misprint.
George: I'm sorry. The card says Moops.
Donald: It doesn't matter. It's Moors. There's no Moops.
George: It's Moops.

George: I was handcuffed to the bed in my underwear, where I remained... [cut] She certainly seemed interested in me. Though she was attractive, she was also, in fact, a Nazi... [cut] The water that I had been swimming in was very cold. And, when I dropped the towel, there had been significant shrinkage... [cut] Her parents were looking at me. So, there I was, with a marble rye hanging from the end of a fishing pole... [cut] In closing, these stories have not been embellished, because they need no embellishment. They are simply, horrifyingly, the story of my life as a short, stocky, slow-witted bald man. Thank you. [gets up] Oh, also, my fiance died from licking toxic envelopes that I picked out. [The board members sob and cry] Thanks again. [walks out]