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Nick: I'm using magnetic words to break through my writer's block, and it's not working. I've already folded all my shirts and masturbated six times, and I'm running out of things to do. I'm just in a real bind. You see, The Pepperwood Chronicles sold over 30 copies, Jess.
Jess: So, what, we're complaining about good things now?
Nick: It's just, my audience is gonna be clamoring for a sequel, and I can't leave those stevedores, those-those tugboat workers, those lighthouse keepers empty-handed.
Jess: You think that your audience is entirely made of, like...
Nick: Blue-collar nautical workers on the coastline of Maine. I don't think that, Jess, I know that.
Schmidt: Oh, no. Ruth hasn't been signed out. Um, excuse me. Um, have you seen Ruth? Brown hair, smile that would shake the earth, hates peas?
Girl: A white man broke in today.
Schmidt: A... a white man?! No! Well, what did security do about it?!
Nick: Hey, where are you guys getting your photos developed these days? I got these beefcake selfies that I want to dangle in front of Jess, get her engine revved up.
Schmidt: Your phone has a camera, Nick.
Nick: These are sexy, sensual, private pics. I don't want them beamed right into Snowden's pocket. I'm not going through Wikileaks, man. It's not for me. Analog. It's the only thing you can trust.
Winston: You care to elaborate, you know, on this whole analog thing?
Nick: No, here's the reality, you never know what's gonna happen with a phone.
Nick: The hinges that hold the flip together, they get loosened over time when... when they get wet. And then once you open it, it's easier for people to go in there and see your passwords and, you know, see your codes. Once the screen breaks, your information's in the Twitterverse, man. And it's all out there for everyone to see, all these little monkey elves, man, all these kids. That's all they do. [sputters] Get your information, man. Bottom line is you can't control your technology. That's what's going on in Japan with all those robots. Not for me, man. That's why I trust a hard copy. Plain and simple.
Winston: All right, everybody stop! Wherever you are right now, just sit down! Okay, now, Saturday is a day for sleeping, and damn it, you will not take that away from me! You, give her her scarf back. Finders keepers is not a thing. You, get out of my house!
Holly: Who are you?
Winston: Who am I? Who am I? Well, I am Theodore K. Mullins. And Nick is my lover on the down low. Tell her, Nick. Tell her how it really goes down in apartment 4D. Oh, great Negro spiritual, please come down and loose these chains on this woman! Flesh on flesh. When the lights are off, we are all the same.
Nick: Not true.
Winston: Dear lord, help me, Father! Get out of my house. Get out of my house!
Nick: Are you okay? You look gray.
Schmidt: I didn't sleep. I was up preparing for an epic day of wedding decisions. I'm calling it D-Day. Of course, in this situation, the "D" stands for "decisions," and unlike the other D-Day, it will not be a walk on the beach.
Jess: That's incredibly offensive.
Schmidt: I know.