Eleanor: So you, Brent Norwalk, are dead.
Brent: Really? Well, that blows. Ah, you know what, maybe it's a good thing, actually. Some journalist was poking around, calling all these ladies who used to work for me. You can't even make a joke these days! Everything is so PC. And I was an equal-opportunity offender, okay? I made jokes about everybody, and by the way, I'm the furthest thing from racist. My dentist was a black woman. I just think people need to loosen up. So, where am I, exactly?
Michael: The Good Place.
Brent: Oh, cool. Good.