Ooooh, I got a GOOD one.... BAD SANTA (2003) Director: Terry Zwigoff Writers: Glenn Ficarra, John Requa [Willie has just passed out] Gin: Look here, get him outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska, Tell him it was food poisoning or something. Marcus: What do you mean, get him outta here? Gin: Take him to the car. Marcus: In case you didn't notice I'm a motherfucking dwarf, so unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm? Gin: That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause you're handicapped. You're all the same. Marcus: Special treatment? I'm 3-foot-fucking-tall you asshole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh? Gin: Bitch, Bitch, Bitch! Marcus: Sketch it up, you fucking moron. Fucking Leonardo da Vinci. Gin: What'd you call me thigh-high? Marcus: I called you a fucking guinea homo from the 15th-fucking-century, you dickhead! Gin: I could stick you up my ass, small fry. Marcus: Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night? Gin: You got some lip on you midget. Marcus: yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole! (Marcus strides off. Gin picks Willie up) Willie: I pissed myself. Gin: Oh shut up! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVRmXc8PPqk

From ELF Buddy: Who the heck are you? Gimbel's Santa: What are you talkin' about? I'm Santa Claus. Buddy: No, you're not. Gimbel's Santa: Uh, why of course I am! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. Buddy: Well, if you're Santa, what song did I sing for you on your birthday this year? Gimbel's Santa: Um, Happy Birthday of course. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. How old are you son? Kid with Santa: Four. Gimbel's Santa: You're a big boy. What's your name? Kid with Santa: Paul. Gimbel's Santa: Now what can I get you for Christmas? Buddy: Don't tell him what you want, he's a liar. Gimbel's Santa: Let the kid talk. Buddy: You disgust me! How can you live with yourself? Gimbel's Santa: Just cool it, Zippy. Buddy: You sit on a throne of lies. Gimbel's Santa: Look, I'm not kiddin'. Buddy: You're a fake. Gimbel's Santa: I'm a fake? Buddy: Yes! Gimbel's Santa: How'd you like to be dead, huh? Ho, ho, just kidding. Buddy: You stink. Gimbel's Santa: I think you're gonna have a good Christmas, all right. Buddy: You smell like beef and cheese, you don't smell like Santa. http://movieclips.com/sW4p-elf-movie-you-sit-on-a-throne-of-lies/

How about this CLASSIC scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, when Chevy finally loses it: Clark: Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol? http://movieclips.com/Xo5Zm-christmas-vacation-movie-clark-freaks-out/

Kris Kringle kicks ass in "Miracle on 34th Street" SAWYER: What do you mean busting into my office like this? KRIS: Are you a licensed psychiatrist? SAWYER: What business is it of yours? KRIS: I have great respect for psychiatry... and great contempt for meddling amateurs who go around practicing it. You have no more right to analyze Alfred... than a dentist has to remove a gallbladder! SAWYER: I beg your pardon. KRIS: Your job here, I understand, is to give intelligence tests. Pressing yourself off as a psychologist. You ought to be horsewhipped... taking a normal, impressionable boy like Alfred... and filling him up with complexes and phobias. SAWYER: I think I'm better equipped to judge that than you are. KRIS: Just because the boy wants to be kind to children... you tell him he has a guilt complex. SAWYER: Sharing his delusion, you couldn't possibly understand. The boy is definitely maladjusted, and I'm helping. KRIS: Maladjusted?! You talk about maladjusted. It seems to me the patient is running the clinic here. SAWYER: I won't stand... Leave this office immediately. KRIS: Now either you stop analyzing Alfred... or I go straight to Mr. Macy... and tell him what a malicious contemptible fraud you are. SAWYER: Leave or I'll have you thrown out. KRIS: There's only one way to handle a man like you. You won't listen to reason. You're heartless. You have no humanity. SAWYER: Are you going to leave? KRIS: Yes. http://movieclips.com/Nvhg-miracle-on-34th-street-movie-santa-yells-at-sawyer/

HOME ALONE "I made my family disappear!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkCKC3EBhm4

1984 A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott Ebenezer Scrooge: These are garments, Mr. Cratchit. Garments were invented by the human race as a protection against the cold. Once purchased, they may be used indefinitely for the purpose for which they are intended. Coal burns. Coal is momentary and coal is costly. There will be no more coal burned in this office today, is that quite clear, Mr. Cratchit? Bob Cratchit: Yes, Sir. Ebenezer Scrooge: Now please get back to work before I am forced to conclude that your services here are no longer required. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIcoa0oI5Cc&feature=related A lot of even better moments, but the best I could find with both dialogue and clip. By far the best version I've seen. Patton is great at this peace time portrayal. :-)

Apologies, this dialogue was taken from a minimal transcript. The Ref (1994). Kevin Spacey, Denis Leary and Judy Davis. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyqFgpmoiFo LLOYD: Why don't you just give yourself up? GUS: What'd you say? LLOYD: Well, you're not going to kill an entire family. It's over. I mean, you're not the type. You're a thief, not a killer. That's obvious. GUS: I hate guys like you, you know? With your Jeep Grand Cherokees and your Nicaraguan maids and your Ping Zing golf clubs... every goddamn thing in the world handed to you. What fuckin' purpose do you people serve? LLOYD: You're a criminal. What purpose could you serve? GUS: Fuck you, Lloyd. I work for a living, okay? I have a skill. I'm in the game, pal. What do you do except take up fuckin' space? LLOYD: If you're so skilled, what are you doing stuck here? GUS: I can break into any house, take whatever I want: in and out, ten minutes. No prints, no evidence, nothing. If what's-his-name hadn't installed that fuckin' roadrunner booby trap... I'd be in Jamaica by now. LLOYD: Mmm, I'm impressed. GUS: No, you people don't get impressed, do ya? Life just bores the shit out of you people. I'm sorry. We don't all have rich mummies and daddies we can live off of... or open restaurants when we get bored playing tennis. LLOYD: You told him about the restaurant? GUS: Yeah. I heard you couldn't cut it working for a living, Mr. Brooks Brothers, so-- LLOYD: --Shut up.! You and my wife have a lot in common. You both think you have some right to life working out the way you want... and if it doesn't, you get to act any way you want. The problem is someone has to be responsible. I'd love to run around taking classes and playing with my inner-selfness. I'd love the freedom to be a pissed-off criminal without any responsibility... except I don't have the time! But you don't see me with a gun. You don't see me sleeping with someone else. You think my life turned out the way I wanted because I live in this house? You think every time I look in the mirror I shout, "Gee, I'm glad I'm me..." and not some 19-year-old billionaire rock star with the body of an athlete, and a 24-hour erection"? No, I don't! So just excuse the shit out of me!

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