my grinded gears

Feinstein: Do you need a bazooka?

Quirk: Not now, no...but should I need one, can find one, can afford one, then I'll damned well have one.

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Francis: I can't excommunicate the bulk of the Church!

Quirk: Then you preside over a carcass.

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Flight Attendant: No small knives!

Quirk: Agreed! Instead: Butcher knives! Swords!

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Any politician you care to name: I need your support (money!).

Quirk: No.

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Any busybody you care to name: That's not good for you!

Quirk: Mind your own business.

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Fat ass poor person: It's not fair you have more! Gimme!

Quirk: No.

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Fat ass rich person: I create jobs, drive the economy! I need tax breaks!

Quirk: No.

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Young person: y u b h8n ?

Quirk: Be quiet, drink your poison, er, 'soda'.

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Old person: Respect me!

Quirk: Be quiet, drink your poison, er, 'prune juice'.

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Any talking head you care to name: Blah, blah, blah.

Quirk: Shut. Up.