M*A*S*H · Season 11
Charles (entering the Swamp): Gentlemen.
BJ; Quiet, Charles, I'm looking for the liquor ads.
I thought you went to see Sahara tonight.
Indeed I did. But, alas, I had to leave when the film broke which was about two seconds after I ripped it from the projector. And I would have been here sooner but I had to stop to accept the cheers of the entire audience.
Hey, hey, hey. Listen to this. (reading from newspaper) Blue movie banned in Boston.
What?
"The Moon Is Blue, starring David Niven, William Holden, and Maggie McNamara has been banned from local theaters due to its suggestive nature. "
Philistines. They said the same thing about Babette Meets the Fleet.
Gentlemen, uh, before you unleash your libidos, bear in mind: Boston would have banned Pinocchio.
Captains, I've been adding up some numbers.
Well, you'd better sit down, your fingers must be exhausted.
(after Margaret bets another week's pay for herself, Hawkeye and BJ)
I can't believe what we're doing. Or how many times we're doing it.
What's the matter?
What's the matter?!
What's the matter?! If Mulcahy loses, we're out two weeks' pay!
Each!
You men. You always worry about little things.
(To Captain Sweeney, CO of the stuttering Private Palmer) Captain Sweeney, if you say one more unkind word to Private Palmer, I will personally write a report detailing your inhumanity, and I will have it placed in your 201 file, where it will follow you for the rest of your career.
But Major, that-
(Brushing aside Sweeney's interjection) IS THAT CLEAR?
Yes, sir.
Oh, Sweden! Oh, I've always wanted to visit Sweden. I hear the scenery is so... tall.
Why fight it? I might as well go crazy and be inconspicuous!
I'm afraid there is the possibility--slim though it be--that I...snore.
Snore. Oh. Good heavens, Major. What...courage it took to admit that.
Well, Father, I'm afraid you don't understand. See, all my life I've harbored a secret dread that I may not be worthy of my name, that I may not good enough to be a Winchester. What if all this malarkey is true, that I do...snore like a common factory worker. What if that's just the tip of the iceberg? What if there are even more vulgar traits lurking just underneath the surface? Today...snoring. Tomorrow, sitting in front of a TV with a cold brew watching roller derby. What if--perish the thought--I am actually the same as everybody else? I couldn't live with that.
Speaking as one whose ancestors were factory workers and who like roller derby and a good brew, do I understand you to say that if you can't be better that me, then there's no point in living?
Well, don't take it personally, Father.
Why should I take it personally? By the way, did I ever tell you about the time I was thrown out of the seminary dorm for snoring?
Uh...
The truth of the matter is you're not superior to any of us whether you snore or not.
Shh!
And at times like this, I'm not even sure you're equal.
Good morning, Major. If you don't mind me saying so, hubba hubba.
Margaret (voice hoarse due to laryngitis): Charles. (bangs table when he ignores her)
Well, Margaret. Can't you just say good morning as civilized people do?
(grunting and miming)
It is not my idea of breakfast fun to play charades.
Margaret; (more grunting)
Uh, Doctor, I believe you are being paged.
(more grunting and miming)
May I at least finish my Wheaties? (Margaret drags him out of the mess tent) Margaret, what is wrong?
Margaret (hoarse): Please send telegram. (writing on note pad)
Well why not. I'm often mistaken for a little Western Union boy. (reading note) "Dr. Chesler, must cancel. Very sorry. Perhaps another time." Another time? The man's leaving for the States tomorrow.
Not fair to patients or staff. Can't work like this. Another three days -- I can't go.
I must say I admire your dedication. I'll send this off immediately if that's what you really want. Yes? (leaving post-op bellowing) Telegram for Dr. Chesler. Oh, telegram for Dr. Chesler.
I got some 3-0 silk for you Dr. Winchester. I noticed you were running low.
I shall always cherish this moment.
Well, Charles, what are friends for?
Friends? If pressed, I would say that you and I coexist. Now can we skip ahead to the inevitable small favor that you are going to ask?
Well, now that you mention it, I got this new record player and I don't have anything to play on it.
I do. And you still don't.
If I don't find a way to hear some music soon, I'm gonna lose what is left of my mind.
Why don't you ask Margaret to let you play your records on her new record player?
I'd sooner share my toothbrush with a Democrat.
Maybe you could go over to the O-Club and play 'em on the jukebox. Nobody there this early.
That is tantamount to asking Michelangelo to paint the ceiling of Woolworth's.
I do believe people are essentially good, but sometimes you have to put them in a half-nelson to get them to cough up.
My boots. All he wanted was my lousy boots. His feet were freezing. I'd have done the same thing. He was just a guy like me, and I shot him and I killed him, for a pair of boots.
You know, sometimes I think there should be a rule of war saying you have to see someone up close and get to know him before it's OK to shoot him.
How can I wear these again? How can I ever put on a pair of shoes without thinking of that guy?
These quotes come from Wikiquote's M*A*S*H pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
