Turk: What's up with the white people on top?
Carla: Turk, they don't have tiny plastic interracial couples.
Baker: I'll just color it in with some chocolate frosting.
Turk: Oh, that's a great idea. Put 'em in blackface.
Carla: Turk!
Turk: What? While you're at it, why don't you put a string in the back of him, so when you pull it he sings "Mammy"!
Baker: Forget it.
Turk: Where are you going? To the back of the bakery where you keep all the other colored cakes? I'mma call Jesse! And we gonna march on your ass! [licks frosting] Mm.

Mr. Corman: I wanna know everything that's wrong with me.
Dr. Cox: Mr. Corman, you're not even feeling bad. You don't need this scan. If it would make you happy, we can just go ahead and do the exact same thing we've done the last fifty times you've been in here. Take your temperature, draw some blood, and give you a rectal. It's your basic "Ah! Ow! Oh!"

Turk: The point is, I don't lose my cool.
J.D.: I don't know. Remember back in college, when we had tickets to see Michael Jordan in the playoffs?
[flashback:]
Turk: [singing] We're goin' to see Michael Jordan. We're goin' to see Michael Jordan. We're goin' to see Michael Jordan. 'Cause we got good tickets. We went five hundred miles.
J.D.: Hey, was I supposed to bring the tickets or the sandwiches?
[As Turk realizes they're both holding sandwich bags, he screams and starts pulling out his hair]
J.D.: Oh, God.
Turk: Oh, no! Leave it on the floor! You leave it on the floor!
[present:]
J.D.: You shaved your head for the first time after that.