Roger Furlong

Ah, I recognize you. You're one of Selina's little gay dwarves, aren't you?

What, are you sappy? Is that it? Preppy?

She's about as welcome here as a turd in a hot tub.

I'd make more money if I installed will here as a full-time gloryhole greeter at a Georgetown gay bar. Which I'm pretty sure he already does part-time. Right, will?

We're trying to run a fundraiser and she's kind of toxic at the box office, all right? We're having to bump our silver plates up to gold plates, gold plates are going up to platinum plates.

First time I took this kid, one look at Kurt Cobain's shoes, he was bawling like a fucking baby. 'It's too soon! It's too soon!'

I might as well nail a bunch of puppies to the ground and then start running them over and crush their skulls with my campaign bus.

All right, well, all due respect, cock nugget

backseat, finger-fucking insider bullshit

Don't endorse.

Where is it located, will? The toilet. More accurately, the crapper.

If she mentions my name, if I get the stamp of approval, the midas touch from Jenny shitfinger, I'm coming for you, pal.

I saw a fucking crazy lady. That's what I saw.

Don't forget your booster seat. Oh, shove it up your ass.

Holy Christ. Look at the size of this one. Buddy, I think you're as big as my gay dwarf.

'Cause you're gonna get your head shot, your back stabbed, and your nuts danced on.

You know what they call guys like you in prison? Sweetmeat.

You're gonna have to be prepared to be gay for the stay 'cause you're going down.

Screw you and the face you rode in on, Dan.

No, I said don't wave it in my face. I didn't say eat it. Eat it! Eat it all right now!

I'm running out of nice juice to spray at these shit munchers.

Not only Ginger Rogers, but also Ginger Rogers. Nice joke construction, sir.

Stop trying to polish my dick, you fucking four-eyed failure.

You know, you're about as annoying as a condom filled with fire ants. How's that for a fucking metaphor? That's a simile, sir.

Your wife is perfectly fine. She ran the Seattle Marathon. All right, don't fuck with me, honey.

Screw you and your Confucius grasshopper bullshit, all right?

You do and Secret Service might break your neck. That would be a tragedy.

If you want to get some cardio exercise, you have to have a heart.

Oh, I heard it from the Gingerhead Man. The gash with the stash. McLintock.

It's like saying flammable or inflammable. It's the same thing. I smell a fucking rat.

Then we'll find out whether it's flammable or inflammable. Come on, Wilbo Faggins, let's go.

Look at my muscly chest. Vote for me.

10 fucking points to Elsa the ice queen.

You think the whole sub is made in one place? Because the fin, or whatever the fuck, it comes from one factory in one state. And then this little round fucking window comes from another place.

So take the periscope out of your asses and look at the warhead of shit that's coming at you.

Hey, Dobby the house elf, we've had enough.

You can wave bye-bye to the Families First bill because the lawmakers in these districts are going to Vulcan death grip you to fuck. Live long and fuck off.

I wish someone would sexually assault my staff. And by staff I mean penis.

which of us hasn't gotten off in some guy's junk? You know, just for a laugh?

Well, I just came out West to play a little Cowboys and Injuns with Big Chief Suckum Choad here.

The other person in the room who looks exactly like Grimace.

All right? It's got nothing to do with your body shape or your... the way your head goes into your shoulders so smoothly.

Do you know what the chief agricultural product of my district in Ohio is? I'll give you a hint... looks like Will's wife's clit.

That's why I spent two months jamming them into that school lunch bill like what, Will? Like me jamming anonymous trucker cock in my mouth at a public restroom well known for that purpose.

You want me to call a Japanese porn shoot, see if I can get you a real job sponging up bukkake parties?

That sweaty pederast has ruined more kids than the Common Core.

Luckily, Will's anal halitosis renders him completely unbouffable.

So, what is it? Speak, Professor X-Gayvier.

let me save you the peanut log you're about to squeeze out of your face anus here... no.

You remain in detention on the Ethics Committee with the rest of the special ed Breakfast Club.

Good luck getting your precious back from those mean hobbits, Sméagol.

He's just gotta go to a Laundromat, meet a girl, take her to a movie, a little chit-chat, couple-three drinks, standard hayjay in the cab home, and a year later, he's a father.

Hey, did you get your curds, Little Miss Muffless?

Put Wisconsin at the top of my shit list. ... Make them 1A and 1B.

All right, I need you and your buddies from the Island of Misfit Toys... Isle.

Oh, no, it understands.

Whoa, what's this, the fourth horseface of the Apocalypse?

Jesus, Jonah, if you're gonna pay for sex, just add the extra two bucks for the premium edition.

And I want Rihanna to put a gun to my head while she makes me eat her out, but guess what, that's about as likely to happen as Will's wife putting a baby in her polyp festival of a uterus!

I would sooner gouge out your eye and fuck your skull from here to the end of time.

Congressman Furlong. - Brookheimer! Got your dong of a résumé.

Oh, no, Beautiful Mindfuck. You are not gonna desecrate my convention with more of this Muslim math nonsense.

Because you were born with three umbilical cords wrapped around your neck, Hep C Kevin McHale.

Right now, every Sunday pundit and poli-sci major is treating this brokered convention like it's a big-titted college gymnast whose daddy fucked with her just enough that she'll do some dirty shit, but she can still cum.

But if we don't pillow-smother this sad grandma of a convention lickity-fuckin'-split, we are gonna wind up with four more years of Montez clogging up the White House plumbing with tampons.

You and Kemi scissoring at the top of the ticket is gonna make everyone rock hard.

I mean, that Nutmeg State indefinable really turns my hydrant on.

Look at you losers waitin' around to make sure she's actually dead, while you sit in the back row suckin' on hard candies like what, Will?