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Man: (to class) How many of you kids have ever even seen a black person?
(everyone raises their hands)
Man: That's right! None of you!
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Stan: (to Steve) Don't forget to brush your teeth or goblins will kill your mother.
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Stan: Steve, how many times do I have to tell you? If children get less than 8 hours of sleep, their boy glands emit a pleasant berry scent that attracts pedophiles.
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Stan: If only there was a place where you could make any outrageous claim you want, with absolutely no proof, and millions of people would accept it as fact.
Steve: That's it!
(Scene changes to Steve typing his report online to Wikipedia)
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Steve: When were you going to tell me you were part of the Illuminutty?
Stan: Steve, that's crazy... I was never going to tell you.
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Steve: I can't believe there's lava under Washington, D.C.
Stan: Where do you think all the hot air comes from?
(Stan & Steve laugh)
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Stan: Great work, Steve! All we need now is a 20-foot peanut with presidential aspirations. To the Iowa caucuses!
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Stan: (Reads clue) "Lastly, tip your hat in the Garden of Eden."
Steve: It's the last clue!
Stan: Duh! Really?! Sorry, it's been a really long night.
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Steve: (To the strippers) Uh... excuse me, ladies? If anyone has left a toddler locked in their car, he, uh... he just found your stash.
Stripper #1: Oh, my God!
Stripper #2: My baby!
Stripper #3: My meth!
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(At a strip club)
Stan: Well, no flagpoles in the VIP room.
Steve: It took you 45 minutes to figure that out?
Stan: No, and it also didn't take me $300.
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Steve: Why did we have to come to a Burger King to read the map?
Stan: Because the economics of television have changed, Steve. (To the camera; reluctantly) Have it... your way! (Raises Burger King drink and gives a thumbs up)
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Steve: Dad, what the hell is going on?
Stan: Look, you're in over your head. Forget about your report on Carver. Just do it on Will Smith. Oh, wait, you need a black guy.
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Steve: What's going on? I have an appointment with the Curator.
Detective: The Curator was murdered.
Steve: Oh, my God! Someone killed him?!
Detective: Funny, I never said he was murdered.
Steve: Yes... yes, yes, you did. God, he's wedged into the mouth of a giant bust of George Washington Carver!
Detective: That's classified. How'd you know that?
Steve: I can see it from here.
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Roger: Hey, Hayley-kins, want to play Jenga?
Hayley: That game's kind of lame. Unless you want to make it a little more interesting.
Roger: Uh... no, thanks.
Hayley: I thought you loved to gamble.
Roger: Oh, is that what that means? Oh, I thought you were hitting on me. No, sure, yeah, let's play.
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Francine: If anyone needs me, I'll be celebrating in the bathtub.
Klaus: Why would anyone need you?
Francine: Shut up, Klaus! Ooh. (Grabs wine bottle labeled "Told Klaus to Shut Up")
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Roger: Hey, Steve, you want to play that game where you start with a tower of blocks and one by one you take them out and stack them on top until it collapses?
Steve: You mean Jenga?
Roger: Well, I think it's pronounced "Henga," but if you want to crap all over the Spanish language, go ahead.
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Man: (To class) The average white man thinks about sex every six seconds, but he only thinks about sex with a black man once a year.
Steve: (To Barry) I have no idea what he's talking about, but I feel terrible.
Man: So, the next time you privileged, suburban, white boys think Beethoven wasn't black, maybe you should look in the mirror!