Actually, prunes are enjoyed the world over by people of all ages, and despite their rather unpleasant appearance, they're really quite tasty. Not to mention, an excellent source of iron and a wonderful implement of dietary regulation.
What just happened — it's no big deal. I'm sure it happens all the time. And in fact, I bet there's not one single person we know that doesn't have an embarrassing fart story.
Now, who could come up to our beautiful and special chart of the Human Digestive Tract, and tell me which organ is the Small Intestine, and which is the Colon? How about you, Rhonda?
Now, class, I know you all may think what happened to Phoebe yesterday is amusing, but I assure you, it is not. The expulsion of gas is just a perfectly natural part of our body's very special digestion cycle. It's nothing to poke fun at, and nothing to be ashamed of. Now, Rhonda, please, come up to the front of the room, and point out the correct organs on the fart. [everyone laughs once more] No, wait, "chart." I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I meant "chart."
Sorry, Arnold. I've made up my mind. As long as the other students continue to regard me as a gas-passer, I'm afraid I have no other choice than to turn the other cheek. So, no pun intended.
Thank you, Arnold, for bringing this very serious issue to our attention. [sighs] Now, people, one of our own classmates is in trouble, and it's up to us to help her through her crisis. I think we should all go over to Phoebe's after school, and tell her that she has nothing to be embarrassed about. I think we should tell her that we love her and care for her, and if she comes back to school, we'll all forget about her little incident, and never talk about it again! What do you say?! [class remains silent] Okay, if we pull this off, then, tomorrow's Movie Day.
Until three days ago, I was Phoebe Heyerdahl, fourth grader, straight-A student, and a good friend to a lot of you. But then something happened. [nervously] I accidentally... uh, well, I accidentally passed... went... [furiously] Heck, I'm just gonna say it! I farted! [the kids whistle and laugh] Yes, that's right! I "let one rip", I "honked a big jobber", "blew the tuba", "popped a whopper"! [the kids stop laughing as she gets serious] You all thought it was pretty funny. I guess if I were in your shoes, I'd think it was kind of funny too, but ever since then, I've gone from being Phoebe Heyerdahl to just "that girl who farted", and I don't think it's fair, because I'm more than that! If you ask me, I don't have anything to be ashamed of. I think you're the ones that should be ashamed! [leaves the stage]
Scratch. Wampum. Dough. Sugar. Clams. Loot. Bills. Bones. Bread. Bucks. Money. That which separates the haves from the have-nots. But what is money? It's everything if you don't have it, right? Half of all American adults have more credit card debt than savings. 25% have no savings at all. And only 15% of the population is on track to fund even one year of retirement. Suggesting what? The middle class is evaporating? Or the American Dream is dead? You wouldn't be sitting there listening to me if the latter were true. You see, I think most people just have a fundamentally flawed view of money. Is it simply an agreed-upon unit of exchange for goods and services? $3.70 for a gallon of milk? Thirty bucks to cut your grass? Or, is it an intangible? Security or happiness - peace of mind. Let me propose a third option. Money as a measuring device. You see, the hard reality is how much money we accumulate in life is not a function of who's president or the economy or bubbles bursting or bad breaks or bosses. It's about the American work ethic. The one that made us the greatest country on Earth. It's about bucking the media's opinion as to what constitutes a good parent. Deciding to miss the ball game, the play, the concert, because you've resolved to work and invest in your family's future. And taking responsibility for the consequences of those actions. Patience. Frugality. Sacrifice. When you boil it down, what do those three things have in common? Those are choices. Money is not peace of mind. Money's not happiness. Money is, at its essence, that measure of a man's choices.
This is an intimidation audit. Yeah? I mean, you think you can just come in here unannounced and rattle some cages, and someone's gonna admit to skimming? I mean, you're fishing. And, I mean, people steal, I get it. But you got a distribution chain downstream that's run by meth heads and drug dealers. That's where you're gonna find your Aunt Carlottas. They're not in here. We've been laundering money for Mr. Navarro for ten years? That's right. The only thing you've done here is you've involved a civilian. All right? And, you know, to be honest, this, uh "Dale Carnegie - Pablo Escobar" ruse? I think that that's beneath you. Come on, Del.
Oh, you know what Marty? Before you get too comfortable up there on your cross and have your pity party, let me just jog your memory for a minute. There was an innocent man, who was murdered. [her voice breaking] Gary... he was a good man! He only did good things in this world, not like Bruce. Gary was a father. He had two grown sons. I never met them, But I... I know he loved them. And... He was thrown off his balcony. For what!? People cheat! They have sex with people who they aren't married to! It happens. It's not unique. I was unhappy. You're not exactly blameless in this.
For this house, I want you to find one that's as nice as possible, but as cheap as possible. I want you to think 'starter home', we got $20,000 dollars to our name. Just 20. So please, do not sign anything without talking to me first. [physically shifts round in his seat to face her directly, his tone getting angrier] And we are not husband and wife anymore. We're just business partners, and our job's to raise those kids. But you're absolutely right that I share some blame for this. I should've caught Bruce. I was in charge of the numbers, I should've seen it coming. But my mind was elsewhere Wendy. You know, it's Saturday night, and your... your foxy boxing or your Zumba or whatever the hell it is that cost me a few hundred dollars every single month, it ended two hours ago and there's no Wendy. Why does she get so many texts every night? Why does she have to leave the room to make a call? I wonder who's fucking my wife? So that's my bad. And, no, I, I don't forget Gary. I don't forget how you emptied our bank accounts when you knew I needed that money, Wendy. You knew I needed it. And I doubt very, very much that you did that by yourself, that you did that in a vacuum. So my memory's crystal clear. I was there. For all of it. In fact, the satisfying sound of your lover smacking the pavement is the only thing that gets me to sleep every night.
[Wendy slaps, then punches him in the face, before trying to get out of the car]
