Cleavon LittleQuotes

Calculus Entropy: How do you do? I be Calculus Entropy, you be Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher?

Bart: Excuse me while I whip this out...

Lyle: [Taunting the mainly-black railworkers] When you was slaves, you sang like birds. Come on! How about a good old nigger work song?

Bart: [Crooning, [[w:Sammy Davis, Jr.|Sammy Davis, Jr.; the bullying supervisors look immensely confused and insulted; [w:cocaine|coca-yeai-yeaiiiinnnneee] ]-style, with fellow railworkers providing backing vocals] I get no kick from champagne... Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all... so why then should it be true?... that I get a belt - outta you... Some get a kick from ]...

Lyle: [singing] Hold it, hold it! What the hell is that shit?! I meant a song! A real song! Something like "Swing low, sweet chariot"...

Lyle: Don't know that one, huh. Well how about "De Camptown Ladies"?

Bart: De Camptown Ladies?

Railworkers: De Camptown Ladies?

Lyle: Oh, you know! "De Camptown ladies sing this song, doo-dah, doo-dah! Camptown Race Track five miles long, oh-de-do-da-dahy!

Taggart: [[w:ABC's Wide World of Sports|Wide World of Sports] What in the ] is a-goin on here? I hired you people to get some track laid, not to jump around like a bunch of Kansas City faggots!

Lili von Shtupp: [sound of zipper opening] Tell me, schatze, is it twue what they say about the way you people are... gifted? Oh, it's twue. It's twue. It's twue, it's twue!

Bart: I hate to disappoint you, ma'am, but you're suckin on my arm!

Bart: All right, folks...Now I suppose you're all wondering just what in the heck you're doing out here, in the middle of a prairie, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night.

Crowd: You bet your...!

Bart: I'm hip.

Bart: Alright, here we go. Hold your ears, folks. It's showtime!

Bart: [[w:One-drop rule|my grandmother was Dutch] Sir, he specifically requested two niggers. Well, to tell the family secret, ].

Super Soul: And today, in a beautiful gesture made by beautiful people, in beautiful downtown Goldfield, this radio station was named KOWalski, in honor of the last American hero, to whom speed means freedom of the soul. The question is not when's he gonna stop, but who is gonna stop him.

Super Soul: Kowalski, can you hear me? Do you hear me, Kowalski? Now, I know you can hear me, Kowalski. I'm sure you hear me now. This very minute. Now, you listen very carefully. The whole mobile force of the Nevada State Highway Patrol is after you. They waitin for you to come up for air. Yeah. Now, some people imagine you'll try to get to California through Death Valley. And others bet you'll die there in the desert. These few are just too happy to see you vanish for good out there. But my tape deck is just as jammed with telegrams as my head is jammed with phone calls from people who are wishing you well in your getaway, no matter where it might lead you. I wish I could help you, but I can't. I can't. I don't think anybody can, except for that crazy lucky streak of yours. And now you're gonna need more luck. All of it, perhaps, and badly. You can beat the police, you can beat the road and you can even beat the clock. But you can't beat the desert. Nobody can.

Super Soul: It's true, true, true, true, my friends. For, by the latest information, our soul Challenger has just broken the ring of evil the deep blue meanies have so righteously wrought. Get through em, baby! Get through em!

Super Soul: And there goes the Challenger, being chased by the blue, blue meanies on wheels. The vicious traffic squad cars are after our lone driver, the last American hero, the electric centaur, the, the demi-god, the super driver of the golden west! Two nasty Nazi cars are close behind the beautiful lone driver. The police numbers are gettin closer, closer, closer to our soul hero, in his soul mobile, yeah baby! They about to strike. They gonna get him. Smash him. Rape... the last beautiful free soul on this planet. But, it is written: "If the evil spirit arms the tiger with claws, Brahman provided wings for the dove." Thus spake the super guru.