Scully: Mulder, when you find me dead, my desiccated corpse propped up staring lifelessly through the telescope at drunken frat-boys peeing and vomiting into the gutter, just know that my last thoughts were of you... on how I'd like to kill you.
Mulder: I'm sorry, who is this?
Scully: It's a freak show, Mulder! It's a... it's a nonstop parade of every single low-life imaginable.
Mulder: Well, the view may not be too different here. It's dressed a little nicer, but underneath the surface it's the same seamy underbelly.
Scully: It's not the same, trust me!