Fry: “Maybe he has a parasite.”
Hermes: “Maybe he is a parasite.”
Bender to Zoidberg: “You’re looking less nuts, crabby.”
Leela: “It’s amazing that your people can fall in love so fast.”
Zoidberg: “Love? That word is unknown here. I’m simply looking for a female
swollen with eggs to accept my genetic material.”
Fry: “You and me both, brother.”
Fry: “Make up some feelings and tell her you have them. Yes?”
Zoidberg: “Is the desire to mate a feeling?”
Edna: “Excuse me, I’ve got to powder my mouth flaps.”
Edna: “Teach me to love you, squishy poet from beyond the stars.”
Fry: “I’m flattered, really. If I was gonna do it with a big freaky mud bug,
you’d be way up the list.”
Bender: Fry, of all the friends I’ve had, you’re the first.
Bender: I believe that qualifies as ill. At least from a technical
standpoint.
(talking to the Beastie Boys)
Fry: Wow. I love you guys. Back in the 20th century, I had all five of
your albums.
Ad-Rock: That was a thousand years ago. Now we got seven.
Fry: Cool. Can I borrow the new ones. And a couple of blank tapes?
Bender: Hey! What kind of party is this? There’s no booze and only one
hooker.
Leela: Bender, why are you spending so much time in the bathroom? Are
you jacking on in there?
Professor Nerdstrom: Sit. I said sit! Bad fish!
Bender: OK, but I don’t want anyone thinking we’re robosexuals.
Bender: Oh no! Not the magnet!
Fry: What’s with the eye?
Farnsworth: Oh my God!!
Fry: What is it?
Farnsworth: It’s..It’s…It’s my new pager!
Leela: Now strip naked and get on the probulator.
Bender: Bite my shiny, metal ass!
Bender: Well I don’t have anything else planned for today, let’s get drunk!
Leela: Hold Still, I don’t have good depth perception!
Farnsworth: Oh no! I should do something….but i am already in my pajamas.
Bender: He’s gay.
Leela: How do you know?
Bender: I have this thing called gaydar.
Bender: Yeah, well I’m gonna build my own lunar space lander!
With blackjack aaaaannd Hookers! Actually, forget the space
lander, and the blackjack. Ahhhh forget the whole thing!
Bender: A woman like that you gotta romance first!
Cops: I’m going to get 24th Century on his ass!
Human female: “Next, New New York in crisis. Morbo?”
Morbo: “Thanks, human female. Puny Earthlings were shocked today
to learn that a ball of garbage will destroy their pathetic
city of New New York.”
Human female: “Makes me glad that we live here in Los Angeles.”
Morbo: “Morbo agrees.”
Human female: “All in all. This is one day that mitten the kitten will not
soon forget.”
Morbo: “Kittens give Morbo gas. In later news the city of New New
York is doomed. Blame rests with known human professor Hubert
Farnsworth and his tiny inferior brain.”
Human female: “And so with two weeks left in the campaign, the question
on everyone’s mind is, who will be the president of Earth?
Jack Johnson or bitter rival John Jackson.
Two terrific candidates, Morbo?”
Morbo: “All humans are vermin in the eyes of Morbo.”
Human female: “In other local news, disaster struck on Saturn’s moon of Titan
today, where titanium mine collapsed, trapping one thousand
robot workers. Unless something is done quickly the trapped
robots will be dead within 300 years. Sir, what rescue
operations are planned?”
Mine spokesman: “The plan is basically to pave over the area and get on with
our lives.”
Morbo: “The news of mine’s closing sent titanium prices sky
rocketing.”
Morbo: “Morbo will now introduce tonights candidates. Puny human
number one, puny human number two and Morbo’s good friend
Richard Nixon.”
Nixon: “Hello Morbo. How’s the family?”
Morbo: “Belligerent and numerous.”
Nixon: “Good man, Nixon’s pro-war and pro-family.”
Morbo: “Morbo demands an answer to the following question. If you saw
a delicious candy in the hands of a small child. Would you
seize and consume it?”
John Jackson: “Unthinkable.”
Jack Johnson: “I wouldn’t think of it.”
Morbo: “What about you Mr. Nixon? I remind you. You are under of a
truth-o-scope.”
Nixon: “Question is vague. You don’t say what kind of candy and
whether anyone is watching. In anyway I certainly wouldn’t
harm the child.”
Human female: “The sheer drama of this election has driven voter turnout to
it’s highest level in centuries, six percent.”
Morbo: “Exit poll show evil underdog Richard Nixon trailing with
estimated zero votes.”
Human female: “The time is 7:59 and the robot polls are now opening. And
robot votes are now in. Nixon has won.”
Morbo: “Morbo congratulates our gargantuan cyborg president. May death
come quickly to his enemies.”
Human female: “The holiday season is time of celebration for most but it is
also the time to remember the tragic suffering of the less
fortunate.”
Morbo: “Earthlings do not yet know the meaning of suffering.”
Human female: “Earlier today I visited the shelter for down-and-out robots.
Homeless robots too poor to afford even the basic alcohol they
need fuel their circuits. Is there anything sadder?
Only drowning puppies and there have to be a lot of them.”