Belabor Day

VH1’s “I Love Christopher Monks’s Labor Day Weekend 1986” by the eponymous idle thinker, Mr. C. Monks.

& Recently . . .

Doing Our Part

A Pleasing Labor Day to You All

The Unspoken Vasquez: James Cameron's Aliens, First Folio by Michael Rottman

Editor's Letter by Mick Stingley

Amendments to the New Iraqi Constitution by J. M. Houk

Memo to the Executives by Ron Burch

Polish Fact

Population Growth Rate:
0% (2003 est.)

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Parlez-Vous Français!
Les filles gros-basées, vous faites le monde basculant circuler.
Fat-bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round.

Y.P.aRt Gallery

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Cuff Links


[ Courtesy IMDb ]

Memorable Quotes from the Motion Picture Kuffs (1992)

[George talking to a suicidal jumper.]
George Kuffs: Hey, asshole! Yes, you. Look, if you're gonna jump, jump. Otherwise, use the bridge like everyone else. You're screwin' up traffic down there.

George Kuffs: Women. If it weren't for them, there'd be no civilization.

George Kuffs: I got women to do, places to see!

[At the Police Academy]
George Kuffs: Why are we doing so much running? Aren't we all going to be in cars?

George Kuffs: George Kuffs: of bullets.
Gun Salesman: God bless you, young man.
George Kuffs: [to the camera] I always wanted a gun . . .
Gun Salesman: Is this what you had in mind? It's a 9mm Beretta. 15 in the clip, one in the pipe.
George Kuffs: Got one that holds more?
Gun Salesman: No.
George Kuffs: I'll take two.

[During a gunfight.]
George Kuffs: How do you load one of these things?

Ted Bukovsky: Next time shit before you sign in. Shit! Sign in! In the car!
George Kuffs: Am I gonna be tested on this later?

Ted Bukovsky: Now, if I'm gonna be killed on the job, it's gonna be by a fucking bullet, not a fucking bus. Now turn this fucking car around and let's get back on your fucking patrol.
George Kuffs: You may have a limited vocabulary, Ted.
Ted Bukovsky: Fuck you!

George Kuffs: What can they possibly see in a man who dresses that badly???

Mrs. Carlton: Is he . . . dead?
George Kuffs: God, I hope so.

[Entering Kuffs's bullet-riddled apartment]
Maya: What happened here?
George Kuffs: Termites.

[To florist filling out a card]
George Kuffs: Dear Maya, I'm sorry about the other night. Love and kisses to all your pink parts. --George

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