Mal: "Tracey, ain't you dead yet?"
Tracey: "Through no fault of my own, Sarge."
Mal: "Aw... I really wanted your beans."
Firefly
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Mal: "Tracey, ain't you dead yet?"
Tracey: "Through no fault of my own, Sarge."
Mal: "Aw... I really wanted your beans."
Firefly
"Food handlers who don't properly wash their hands can transfer staph from their skin to the food they're preparing. Foods that are contaminated with staph look and taste normal."
— Staph Infections - Symptoms and Causes - Mayo Clinic
Mal: "Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you."
Firefly
“A superior pilot uses his superior judgement to avoid situations which require the use of his superior skill”
– Frank Borman, USAF (ret)
Jayne: "We're taking him on board?"
Mal: "We are."
Jayne: "Don't know if I see the percentage in that."
Mal: "Then don't strain your brain trying. You might break something."
Firefly
"I shall not cause harm to any vehicle nor the personal contents thereof, nor through inaction let that vehicle or the personal contents thereof come to harm."
— The Repo Man's Code
Womack (after scaring information out of a postal clerk): "Relax! You've been great. And I was just bluffing with that stuff about arresting you. I mean, who needs that kind of paperwork? Skunk, light him on fire."
Firefly
"Tee minulle voileipä, nainen!" [Finnish for "make me a sandwich, woman!"]
— private correspondence (oh, incidentally, the title of a very important poem of Baudelaire, vd. Gérard Bucher's book of the same name)
Mal: "And you never seen a man more proud of his moustache than Colonel Obrin. I mean, in all my life, I will never love a woman the way this officer loved that lip ferret."
Firefly
"Love note to the whole fuck show, postmarked from a lighthouse in the blunt smoke, Dear motherfuckers, I’m teetering if you must know, wolf at the door like a bug to the fructose, Niece on the phone saying “Ian you should visit more”, We could build forts while the pigs court civil war, Miss you, miss you more, see you on the far side, scuffed shoes, couple new scars in the archive, I’m not here to pull scarves out, Here to pick tumblers under water with his arms bound, from in chains to the heart of “where art thou”, I’m out there down to throw a grapnel at a guard tower, Down to spray piss on a cop car, It’s rage in the form of renaissance art, Can’t treat it like a job at the stockyard and feign shock when they turn the block to a pock mark, Stock parts knocking on Mach 1 to Camp Lo, amped up, eyes glowing unknown pantones, drive ’til it feels like a Van Gogh, lest I cheetah me some antelope, partly cloudy, palpable panic in the troposphere, wake a giant, poke a bear, we don’t do smoke and mirrors, we do do a med-kit and spare clothes, leave a motherfucker nowhere close, new super power that I picked up In the frenzy, I could draw a roof on fire from memory, each and every sketch another bloodletting, in the of wake escalation, and excessive rubbernecking, the champ can’t look away, drink it in, strobe-light, smoke, no life, no lifeguard, sink or swim, ring around the king of pain, bring acetaminophen, You either see the vision or dinner with demolition men, Boom, flame to the fuse to the barrel, I step into the room, split an arrow with an arrow, the first trick shot is just to show em that I dabble… I will not be aiming for the apple, Lately I treat every interaction as a living wake, thanking people close to me before the photo pixelate, new day, folk down play the game different, changed, and going from being chased to playing chicken, Get your whole road map pac-man’d, black mask, snack on whatever’s in the dash cam, It’s not an ad, hashtag, or a tap dance, patsy, the revolution will not have jazz hands, I know you’re alien to matters of the heart and mind, that shit that make you park the car and scream into the dark of night, Some days I wanna build a rocket to the Karman line, 10, 9, 8, keep your head and arms inside, yea"
— Aesop Rock, "Jazz Hands" [pretty sure that's one sentence!]
Wow. Just... wow.
"Why is it that the world never remembered the name of Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich-grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz-weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of Ulm?"
Monty Python's Flying Circus, "It's the Arts"
"Quarter thang to a whole thang, whole gang workin' (Yeah)
Hit a bitch with that extended clip or that revolver
Shit'll serve the same purpose (Bang, bang)
Geekers beamin' up to Scotty in my crack lobby
I can smell the 'caine burnin'
Michael Jordan, 1985, bitch, I travel with a cocaine circus
Put them FNH's on your clown ass"
— Freddie Gibbs, "1985"
Jayne (after Simon starts an autopsy on Tracey's body, the man screams and starts thrashing about): "Spry for a dead fella!"
Firefly
"They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues"
— Steely Dan, "Deacon Blues"
Mal (to the unexpectedly-revived Tracey): "You wanna explain to me exactly why you got yourself all corpsified and mailed to me?"
Firefly
"I'm Keith Morrison, and when I was four years old I saw a birthday clown drowned in a pool."
— Dateline! (broken link on purpose, but is totally SFW: just Bill Hader's riff on Keith Morrison at the timestamp).
Mal: "So, your innards... ain't your innards?"
Firefly
"Roquefort's heavenly flavor is reminiscent of the cavern air where the cheese ripens and the mold naturally grows, transmogrifying the Lacaune ewe's milk it's made of."
— advertising copy from Murray's Cheeses entry on Roquefort.
Wash: "I think they're about done being stalled to— ahhhh... AHHHHHHH! Mal, your dead Army buddy's on the Bridge!"
Zoe: "He ain't dead."
Wash: "...Oh."
Firefly
"You may not believe, livin' on the Earth planet
My skin is green and silver, warhead lookin' mean
Astronauts get played, tough like the ukelele."
— Kool Keith, "Earth People" (youtube link broken to avoid annoying people with the automatic preview, but it's a good jam)
Womack: "I'm a dangerous-minded man on a ship loaded with hurt. Now why you got me chattin' with your peons?"
Firefly
"As studies have shown; participator acts walk up, clog up
And mess up water down the sound that comes from the ghetto
In the middle the core you tour, explore experience
What is real you feel, changing ways"
— Kool Keith, "3000"
Wash (flying through a canyon with debris falling onto the ship): "Woo! This kind of flying really wakes up a guy!"
Mal: "Awake helps."
Firefly
"And still, cats visualize life ghetto like
Born mind, sometime these cats see life
Street life incomplete light and be like
I'm a live life after this"
— Cannibal Ox, "Iron Galaxy"
Inara (having caught Mal practicing his quick draw): "...Perhaps the dining area isn't the place for this sort of thing."
Mal: "What do ya mean? It's the only place with a table big enough."
Inara: "Of course. In that case, every well-bred petty crook knows that the small concealable weapons always go to the far left of the place setting."
Firefly
“When white people go on break at their job. 15 minutes. They go to their desk. They eat their cheese sandwich. Drink their God damn tea. 15 minutes they’re back on the fucking job.”
— Bernie Mac
Inara: "It sounds like something this crew can handle. I can't guarantee they'll handle it particularly well, but...."
Firefly
"You mean it’s like, 'They call these cracker assholes this grandiose name like the Crimson Tide, and I’m this loser, so they call me this other grandiose name, Deacon Blues?'"
Donald Fagen reporting on a conversation with Walter Becker ad the tune "Deacon Blues."
Inara: "I suppose you heard most of that?"
Mal: "Only because I was eavesdropping."
Firefly
"Yo, here goes some info on my flow and how I move to a def groove, I keep my rep smooth. On the down-low, I travel with my mind to the street: concrete, like the gravel I'm in deep"
— Guru, "Down the Backstreets"
Jayne: "Don't much see the benefit in getting involved in strangers' troubles without a up-front price negotiated.... Don't know these folks, don't much care to."
Mal: "They're whores."
Jayne: "I'm in."
Firefly
"Movin the packer, I'm in the ride, leanin to the side
Turnin up the Bar-Kays
Firecracker, the parking lot macker
Maxi, Stacy, women sport the Stay Free
Like Prince all the panties hit the floor in one room in Paisley
With Naughty By Nature, stippin Stoli
Peach on the rocks with Vinnie, Treach and KayGee
Volume up, the club is open, nothin closin at 3
V.I.P. comes reserved, with Ronnie B
Are you blind out there, can Ronnie see?
The power of the Miramax picture
Hold up girl, wait a minute, players don't rush
Hold the cards, please, I'ma get wit'cha
Ladies ready for departure, show ID let me card ya
I see the T-backs through your slacks
I like it jiggly a little larger.
Can I touch ya butt girl? Can I squeeze ya butt girl?
Can I feel ya butt girl? Can I touch it?"
— Kool Keith, "Can I Touch Your Butt Girl"
Inara: "Nandi, this is Malcolm Reynolds."
Nandi: "I appreciate your coming."
Mal: "Well, any friend of Inara's is a strictly businesslike relationship of mine."
Firefly
"[W]hen Kenny G decided that it was appropriate for him to defile the music of the man who is probably the greatest jazz musician that has ever lived by spewing his lame-ass, jive, pseudo bluesy, out-of-tune, noodling, wimped out, fucked up playing all over one of the great Louis's tracks (even one of his lesser ones), he did something that I would not have imagined possible. He, in one move, through his unbelievably pretentious and calloused musical decision to embark on this most cynical of musical paths, shit all over the graves of all the musicians past and present who have risked their lives by going out there on the road for years and years developing their own music inspired by the standards of grace that Louis Armstrong brought to every single note he played over an amazing lifetime as a musician."
— Pat Metheny, in one of the infamous Gorelick rants.
Mal: "I'll introduce you to the rest later. They're good folk."
Jayne: "Can I start getting sexed already?"
Mal: "Well, that one's kinda horrific."
Firefly
"Sure looks good.
Mmm, mmm, mmm!
Skate a little lower now!"
— Don Fagen, lyrics, "Hey Nineteen"
Kaylee: "Look, they got boywhores! Isn't that thoughtful? Wonder if they service girlfolk at all?"
Firefly
"You give me head
It makes it worse
Take out your fuckin' retainer, put it in your purse
I'm too drunk to fuck
You're too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck"
— Dead Kennedys, "Too Drunk To Fuck"
Wash (to Kaylee): "You'd really lie with someone, being paid for it?"
Kaylee: "Well, it's not like anyone else is lining up to, you know, examine me."
Firefly
"A long distance from my girl and I'm talking on the cellular
She said that she was sorry and I said yeah the hell you were
Check the rear view mirror check the gold tooth display."
— Beastie Boys, "High Plain Drifter"
Kaylee: "Everyone's got somebody. Wash, tell me I'm pretty."
Wash: "Were I unwed, I would take you in a manly fashion."
Firefly
"What's the time?
It's time to get ill
And what's the time?
It's time to get ill"
— Beastie Boys, "Time To Get Ill"
Mal: "Inara, think you could stoop to being on my arm?"
Inara: "Will you wash it first?"
Firefly
"I’m like 'Sweetie Pie' by the Stone Alliance
Everybody know I'm known for dropping science
‘Cause I'm electric like Dick Hyman
I guess you'd expect to catch the crew rhymin'"
— Beasties, "Root Down"
Mal: "Nothing worse than a monster who thinks he's right with God."
Firefly
My work is my play, 'cause I'm playing when I work.
MCA, Adrock, Mike D, it's chill.
What's the time? It's time to get ill.
— source unkn.
Mal: "Well, lady, I must say — you're my kinda stupid."
Firefly
"Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her, between 2 chunks of bread."
— unknown doggerel
Nandi: "Truth is, I expected a whole lot more of you to be takin' payment in our trade [of prostitution]."
Mal: "Well, we're an odd conglomeration. Got a preacher, a married fella, and the doctor... well, he'd have to... relax for thirty seconds to get his play. That'd be more or less a miracle."
Firefly
"I like your stories
I love your gun
Shooting out cop tires sounds like loads and loads of fun
But in my room
Wish you were dead
You bawl like the baby in Eraserhead
I'm too drunk to fuck
I'm too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
It's all I need right now
Too drunk to fuck"
— Dead Kennedys