Hal: I have Kobe beef.
Reese: No way.
Reese: That's like $60 an ounce.
Hal: I know. I won it in a Minesweeper tournament at work. Years of practicing eight hours a day has finally paid off.
Lois: That doesn't matter. What does matter is you'll be the only person in that position who will ever give a crap about people like us. We've been getting the short end of the stick for thousands of years, and I, for one, am sick of it. Now, you are going to be president, mister, and that's the end of it.
Malcolm: Did it ever occur to you that I could have taken this job, gotten really rich and then bought my way into being president?
Lois: Of course it did. We decided against it.
Lois: Because then you wouldn't be a good president. You wouldn't have suffered enough.
Malcolm: I've been suffering all my life.
Lois: I'm sorry, it's not enough. You know what it's like to be poor, and you know what it's like to work hard. Now you're going to learn what it's like to sweep floors and bust your ass and accomplish twice as much as all the kids around you. And it won't mean anything because they will still look down on you. And you will want so much for them to like you, and they just won't. And it'll break your heart. And that'll make your heart bigger and open your eyes and finally you will realize that there's more to life than proving you're the smartest person in the world. I'm sorry, Malcolm, but you don't get the easy path. You don't get to just have fun and be rich and live the life of luxury.
Hal: That's Dewey.
Malcolm: This is unbelievable. You actually expect me to be president. No, no, I'm sorry. You expect me to be one of the greatest presidents in the history of the United States.
Lois: You look me in the eye and you tell me you can't do it.
Malcolm: You know what? I'm glad! This is appropriate. Now my life looks exactly how I feel. How could you screw me over like that?
Lois: Because you were going to take that job, and we are not going to let you throw your life away.
Malcolm: How is being rich throwing my life away?!
Lois: Because it's not the life you're supposed to have! The life you're supposed to have is you go to Harvard, and you earn every fellowship and internship they have. You graduate first in your class, and you start working in public service, either district attorney or running some foundation, and then you become governor of a mid-sized state, and then you become president.
Lois: Of the United States.
Hal: I'm sorry, son. It's true.
Francis: I thought you knew.
Hal: Our expectations started out much smaller, but you just kept upping the ante.
Lois: [over P.A.] Attention, Lucky Aide trespasser. You do not get to do this. You do not get to live off the grid. If anyone on the planet was entitled to hide from all the aggravation, it would be me, but I don't, do you understand? No one gets to shirk their share of the misery. Everyone has to be stuck in this together. That's what's fair. Those are the rules. Now, you obviously know me, so you know what I'm willing to do to find you. So save us both the time and come out now.
[Norm emerges from an aisle]
Craig: Let me handle this. [to Norm] Do you know anything about a guy living in the store?
Principal Block: What the hell is this?
Malcolm: It's "Car Crash." It's a story for the literary magazine.
Principal Block: It's pornography.
Malcolm: How is it pornography?
Principal Block: "The construction worker yelled out, '[bleep] my [bleep]'." "[bleep] my [bleep]"?!
Malcolm: It's supposed to be offensive. That's the whole point of the story. It's a literary device.
Principal Block: There's nothing literary about "[bleep] my [bleep]"! Parents don't want their children reading "[bleep] my [bleep]". This school district has a zero tolerance policy on "[bleep] my [bleep]"! Our forefathers did not lay down their lives on San Juan Hill for "[bleep] my [bleep]"! Now, you either kill this story or replace all the dirty words with asterisks.
Malcolm: That's just stupid. What's the point of bleeping out words? Everyone knows what they are anyway.
Malcolm: Why do you do this to me?
Lois: Malcolm, I know this is hard for you. You're growing up. You're sick of living under my authority. You want me to cut you some slack. You're wondering when I'll finally see you as an adult. Well... that's never going to happen. That's just not the way it works. You can move away from home, you can get married, even have kids of your own, you can even become a professor of physics at MIT. I will always be your mother. And that's just the way it is until one of us dies. You want to put your head between your knees for a few seconds?
Malcolm: No, I'm okay. Look... will you please just give me one thing? Please stop smoking.
Lois: I already quit.
Malcolm: Are you lying?
Lois: Of course not.
Dewey: Mom, I have a proposal for you. Now, before you start poking holes in it, I'd like you to hear me out. All I want is no more school and no more big boy clothes. I'd liked to be bathed and rocked before I go to sleep and have all my food mashed up. In return, I'll be adorable and...
Lois: Are you wearing a diaper?
Dewey: I want you to know my level of commitment. [clenches face]
Lois: [o.s.] Oh, my God!
Fran: When your milk duct is blocked, it's called mastitis. It's important that you let your baby suck the obstruction out of the breast, and don't be alarmed if the baby then vomits up a cottage cheese-type substance. Now, join me over here...
Dewey: Like I needed another reason to hate cottage cheese.
Reese: I've been kind of zoning in and out here, but did she just say milk comes out of those things?
Malcolm: Reese, that's what they're for.
Reese: My God! Women are the cows of people!
Lois: A peptic ulcer? How did you manage to get a peptic ulcer? The doctor said you have the stomach lining of a 60-year-old air traffic controller. You are a teenager, for God's sake. What do you have to be stressed about?!
Malcolm: For your information, I just spent the past three hours on a gurney next to a guy who is still trying to smoke out of the hole in his neck. And the jackass who put in this I.V. couldn't find a vein with two hands and a flashlight! My call button doesn't work! These stupid sheets are itchy. There's only one channel on the TV. And what's this about a bedpan?!
Malcolm: What the hell is wrong with me?! Why can't I just learn to shut up?
Stevie: We're... the same. We speak... before... we think.