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“I hate this stupid place.”
“You can always spot the tourists.”
“Race, gender, and sex are off limits, but the last time I looked, you can still discriminate on the basis of food preference.”
“The paper says that pro-Trump letters will no longer be edited for clarity.”
“Ew! This couch is still warm from the last guy.”
“What if we promise to spend our money at Trump properties?”
“O.K., Mr. Free Range—now we’re lost.”
“I know, but my mom knitted it for me.”
“Take us to your leader in industrial design.”
“Well, well. Look who’s back from trying to make it in the big city.”
“Next, I will attempt to escape a sentence that begins ‘I’m not racist, but…’”
“Latte for name withheld.”
“You can be whatever you want to be, but you’ll probably turn out like me.”
“Don’t, son—once they cross over into meats, they’re out of our jurisdiction.”
“Either it’s a toad trapped in a cement mixer, or Tom Waits is ordering room service.”
“His royally down-to-earth Highness will see you now.”
“Sara, have you seen Ken?”
“In fact, this is the largest seizure to date in the history of any senior community center.”
“Is there something on my face? I’ve never had anybody watch this demonstration before.”
“Let the record show the defendant pleads, ‘O.K., boomer.’”
“O.K., he looks pretty stable—switch the middle screen back to the Super Bowl.”