Dwight K. Schrute: For several weeks, my Secret Santa has been giving me pieces of a machine that I've been attempting to assemble. I'm suspicious of this because I had the exact same idea for catching Osama bin Laden. I would simply send him a different piece each day. He would assemble it to find himself... in jail!

Dwight K. Schrute: In a head-to-head contest, people prefer Belsnickel over Santa every time. There aren't as many songs about him, but I attribute that more to rhyming difficulties. My brother and I wrote one once. It was about a fickle pickle salesman who would tickle you for a nickel.

Stanley: I don't want no Kwanza wreath. I don't need a dreidel in my face, that's its own thing. And who's that black Santa for?! I don't care! I know Santa ain't black! I could care less. I want Christmas! Just give me plain baby Jesus, lying in a manger, Christmas!

Toby: You know this sounds a lot like the premise of my latest Chad Flendermen novel. A murder for framing.
[aside to camera:]
Toby: Chad Flendermen. Just an easy going black guy, he knows the streets, yet he also went to Oxford. So... Just as comfortable on a motorcycle as he is on Air Force One. Oh and he's also the world's leading Egyptologist.
[back:]
Angela: Toby! Nobody cares about your sex-crazed black detective.
Toby: No, no, no, no, no. Women chase him. He misses his wife.

Andy: This party'll cheer you right up.
Robert: I hope so. The corporate party was wretched. I am so tired of the Black Eyed Peas. It's rock-n-roll for people who don't like rock-n-roll. It's rap for people who don't like rap. It's pop for people who don't like pop...