Adam: I've had a revelation. Why create one fake name and get 12 tapes, when you can create infinite fake names and get all the tapes?
Erica: Are you sure this is a good idea?
Adam: I've thought of everything, Erica. See, Columbia house has agents everywhere looking to collect their money. But I'll be one step ahead of them with this. Each of my phony identities has elaborately fleshed-out backstories that I've completely committed to memory.
Erica: Optimus O'Prime? Really, dude? Whose first name is Optimus?
Adam: This guy. He's a 41-year-old truck driver who spends his long nights on the road jamming to the soft-rock stylings of Chicago.
Erica: Ugh, why?
Adam: Because I'm playing god, Erica. Meet Dr. Garth Vaderstein. He's got asthma and issues with his son. He's also got an insane love of Hall & Oates.
Erica: Well, we all have hobbies.
Adam: Next, meet Stu Voltron, age 43. He's a divorced veterinarian. The only thing he loves more than animals? Billy Joel.

Barry: Come on, Dad. You're Bill's best friend. Just talk to him for me.
Murray: Talk? We mostly sit in comfortable silence and drink.
Barry: You never once told him how cool or funny or athletic I am?
Murray: You know, it's never come up, and I don't think it ever will.
Barry: Can you at least tell him how good I am at getting all the shampoo out of my hair in the shower?
Murray: As a favor to you, no.
Barry: Did you tell him how I can palm a volleyball?
Murray: No, 'cause you can't do it consistently.
Barry: Tell him how good I am at all-you-can-eat shrimp. That red lobster hates me. Tell him.

Postal Worker: Got a package for Papa Smurfenstein.
Beverly: I think you've got the wrong address.
Postal Worker: I suppose that means there's also no Inspector Gidget?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: Gary Grayskull?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: Snake Plotkin?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: Ivan Drago?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: John Mcclaneberg?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: Hulk Hulkerstein?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: General Zod?
Beverly: No.
Postal Worker: Jean Claude Van Thunderdome?
Beverly: What's going on?
Postal Worker: Let me guess. You have teenagers? Well, one of them's been using a lot of fake names to get free tapes.

Barry: Or we go to the Eagles-Cowboys game. 50-yard line, root for America's team?
Bill Lewis: I thought you were a Diehard Eagles fan.
Barry: Until I discovered the cowboys, my other favorite team, which happens to be yours.
Bill Lewis: You're gonna turn on The Eagles just like that? Son, don't you have any spine at all?
Barry: No. But you know what I do have? Matching bucket hats!
Bill Lewis: Why?
Murray: Oh, no.
Barry: 'Cause you love Bob Denver. You know, Gilligan, from the island.
Bill Lewis: What?
Barry: He's my favorite, too.
Bill Lewis: I don't like Bob Denver. I like John Denver.
Barry: Is there a difference?
Murray: Oh, no.
Bill Lewis: Yes, one is folk icon who melts my heart. The other is a scrawny weirdo who couldn't close with ginger or Mary Ann.
Barry: [laughing] I totally know the difference. I'm just busting chops. I just got you this hat so your head won't burn.
Bill Lewis: Are you calling me bald?
Barry: No, you have a beautiful head of hair. On the sides. You look like a judge.

Murray: Well, it's almost tee time. Come on, Barry. You're gonna come with us today.
Bill Lewis: He is?
Murray: I am?
Murray: Yeah, I invited the boy to join us.
Bill Lewis: You did?
Barry: You did?
Murray: Yeah, Barry and I play golf all the time. It's our thing.
Barry: I've never golfed with you, not once.
Murray: Moron, I'm doing you a solid. Don't blow this.

Barry: Ah, golf. The sport of kings. And queens. Equal rights. I respect your foxy daughter. No, not foxy. She's an uggo to me. Not everyone else. They all think she has an awesome, plump butt.
Bill Lewis: What the [bleep] man?
Murray: [to Barry] Okay, you're trying way too hard.
Barry: I get it, be myself.
Murray: No, don't do that either.

Bill Lewis: Starting to see why you call him moron so much.
Murray: Yeah, well, the thing is he's the sweetest moron you'd ever want to meet. And he loves your daughter. So much that he'd do anything to impress you.
Barry: I'm feeling around with my feet. It's mostly old golf balls and something with scales that's not afraid of humans.
Murray: So, please, cut the kid some slack.
Barry: Ohh! I think I drowned a little. It was a very peaceful feeling. I saw my old Gerbil. I'm going back in.

Beverly: Honey.
Erica: Go away. I'm trying to enjoy my four crackers and ham square.

Adam: Hey, hey, Barry, do you mind? I'm recording Chicago.
Barry: You won't hear a thing. Look at my hands. These are the fingers of a surgeon. ["Operation" game buzzes] Not cool, funny bone. Not cool!

Murray: I'm home. The TV's mine.
Adam: Shh! Dad, I'm recording music.
Murray: And I'm watching a very special "Gilligan's island" where the Harlem globetrotters come to visit.
Adam: Please, just give me three minutes.
Murray: I've always loved Gilligan, and I love meadowlark lemon. I never thought the two of them would meet.