WhiteRussian94

This is bat country, 18, Femme, Pologne
dudeism.com/Dernière visite : décembre 2012

28677 écoutes depuis le 1 jan. 2010

622 coups de cœur | 10 messages | 1 playlist | 125 shouts

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Bob DylanShelter from the Storm Coups de cœur 30 juin 2011
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Walter: This was a valued rug.
Walter: This was, uh--
The Dude: Yeah man, it really tied the room together--
Walter: This was a valued, uh.
The Dude: Yeah...
Donny: What tied the room together, Dude?
The Dude: My rug.
Walter: Were you listening to the story, Donny?
Donny: What--
The Dude: Walter.....
Walter: Were you listening to the Dude's story?
Donny: I was bowling--
Walter: So you have no frame of reference, here Donny. You're like a child who wanders in -
The Dude: Walter.....
Walter: - in the middle of a movie and wants to--
The Dude: Walter, Walter, what's the point, man?
Walter: There's no fucking reason--here's my point, Dude--there's no fucking reason why these--
Donny: Yeah Walter, what's your point?
Walter: Huh?
The Dude: Walter, what is the point? Look, we all know who is at fault here, what the fuck are you talking about?
Walter: Huh? No, what the fuck are you... I'm not... We're talking about unchecked aggression here, dude.
Donny: What the fuck is he talking about?
The Dude: My rug.
Walter: Forget it, Donny, you're out of your element!
The Dude: Walter, the chinaman who peed on my rug, I can't go give him a bill, so what the fuck are you talking about?
Walter: What the fuck are you talking about? The chinaman is not the issue here, Dude. I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line, you DO NOT... Also, Dude, chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please.
The Dude: Walter, this isn't a guy who built the railroads here. This is a guy...
Walter: What the fuck are you...?
The Dude: Walter, he peed on my rug!
Donny: He peed on the Dude's rug.
Walter: Donny you're out of your element! Dude, the Chinaman is not the issue here!
The Dude: So who? Who?
Walter: Jeff Lebowski, the other Jeffrey Lebowski, the millionaire!
Jeff Lebowski. The other Jeffrey Lebowski. The millionaire.
The Dude: That's fucking interesting man, that's fucking interesting...
Walter: Plus, he has the wealth, obviously, and the resources, uh, so that there is no reason, there's no FUCKING reason, why his wife should go out and owe money all over town, and then they come and they pee on your fucking rug! Am I wrong?
The Dude: No...
Walter: Am I wrong!
The Dude: Yeah, but--
Walter: Okay then. uh,
That rug really tied the room together, did it not?
The Dude: Fuckin' A.
Donny: And this guy peed on it.
Walter: Donny, please.
The Dude: You know, this is the fuckin' guy...I could find this Lebowski guy.
Donny: His name is Lebowski? That's your name, Dude!
The Dude: This is the guy, who should compensate me for the fucking rug. His wife goes out and owes money all over town, and they pee on my rug?
Walter: They pee on your fucking rug?
The Dude: They peed on my fucking rug.
Walter: That's right Dude; they peed on your fucking rug.



The Dude: Mr. Treehorn treats objects like women, man.
Police Chief: Mr. Treehorn draws a lot of water in this town. You don't draw shit, Lebowski. Now we got a nice, quiet little beach community here, and I aim to keep it nice and quiet. So let me make something plain. I don't like you sucking around, bothering our citizens, Lebowski. I don't like your jerk-off name. I don't like your jerk-off face. I don't like your jerk-off behavior, and I don't like you, jerk-off. Do I make myself clear?
The Dude: I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.



The Dude: Well, they finally did it. They killed my fucking car.
Nihilist: Ve vant ze money, Lebowski.
Nihilist #2: Ja, uzzervize ve kill ze girl.
Nihilist #3: Ja, it seems you have forgotten our little deal, Lebowski.
The Dude: You don't HAVE the fucking girl, dipshits! We know you never did!
Donny: Are these the Nazis, Walter?
Walter Sobchak: No, Donny, these men are nihilists, there's nothing to be afraid of.
Nihilist: Ve don't care. Ve still vant ze money, Lebowski, or ve fuck you up.
Walter Sobchak: Fuck you. Fuck the three of you.
The Dude: Hey, cool it Walter.
Walter Sobchak: No, without a hostage, there is no ransom. That's what ransom is. Those are the fucking rules.
Nihilist #2: His girlfriend gave up her toe!
Nihilist #3: She though we'd be getting million dollars!
Nihilist #2: Iss not fair!
Walter Sobchak: Fair! WHO'S THE FUCKING NIHILIST HERE! WHAT ARE YOU, A BUNCH OF FUCKING CRYBABIES?
The Dude: Hey, cool it Walter. Look, pal, there never was any money. The big Lebowski gave me an empty briefcase, so take it up with him, man.
Walter Sobchak: And, I would like my undies back.
Donny: Are they gonna hurt us, Walter?
Walter Sobchak: No, Donny. These men are cowards.
Nihilist: Okay. So we take ze money you haf on you, und ve calls it eefen.
Walter Sobchak: Fuck you.
The Dude: Hey, no, come on, Walter. We're ending this thing cheap, man.
Walter Sobchak: No, what's mine is mine.
Nihilist: No funny shtuff.
The Dude: Alright, alright, I've got four dollars, almost five...
Donny: Hey, I got eighteen dollars.
Walter Sobchak: What's mine is mine.
Nihilist: We fuck you ups, man. We takes the money.
Walter Sobchak: Come and get it.



Walter Sobchak: OVER THE LINE!
Smokey: Huh?
Walter Sobchak: I'm sorry, Smokey. You were over the line, that's a foul.
Smokey: Bullshit. Mark it 8, Dude.
Walter Sobchak: Uh, excuse me. Mark it zero. Next frame.
Smokey: Bullshit, Walter. Mark it 8, Dude.
Walter Sobchak: Smokey, this is not 'Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.
The Dude: Walter, ya know, it's Smokey, so his toe slipped over the line a little, big deal. It's just a game, man.
Walter Sobchak: Dude, this is a league game, this determines who enters the next round robin. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?
Smokey: Yeah, but I wasn't over. Gimme the marker Dude, I'm marking it 8.
Walter Sobchak: [pulls out a gun] Smokey, my friend, you are entering a world of pain.
The Dude: Walter...
Walter Sobchak: You mark that frame an 8, and you're entering a world of pain.
Smokey: I'm not...
Walter Sobchak: A world of pain.
Smokey: Dude, he's your partner...
Walter Sobchak: [shouting] Has the whole world gone crazy? Am I the only one around here who gives a shit about the rules? Mark it zero!
The Dude: They're calling the cops, put the piece away.
Walter Sobchak: Mark it zero!
The Dude: Walter...
Walter Sobchak: [shouting] You think I'm fucking around here? Mark it zero!
Smokey: All right, it's fucking zero. Are you happy, you crazy fuck?
Walter Sobchak: ...It's a league game, Smokey.



Jesus Quintana: You ready to be fucked, man? I see you rolled your way into the semis. Dios mio, man. Liam and me, we're gonna fuck you up.
The Dude: Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man.
Jesus Quintana: Let me tell you something, pendejo. You pull any of your crazy shit with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you, stick it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger 'til it goes "click."
The Dude: Jesus.
Jesus Quintana: You said it, man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus.
Walter Sobchak: Eight-year-olds, Dude.



Walter Sobchak: I told those fucks down at the league office a thousand times that I don't roll on Shabbos!
Donny: What's Shabbos?
Walter Sobchak: Saturday, Donny, is Shabbos, the Jewish day of rest. That means that I don't work, I don't get in a car, I don't fucking ride in a car, I don't pick up the phone, I don't turn on the oven, and I sure as shit
[shouts]
Walter Sobchak: don't fucking roll! Shomer shabbos!
The Dude: Walter...
Walter Sobchak: Shomer f**king shabbos.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Sobchak: The man in the black pajamas, Dude. Worthy fuckin' adversary.
Donny: Who's in pajamas Walter?
Walter Sobchak: Shut the fuck up, Donny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Sobchak: Really, Dude, you surprise me. They're not gonna kill shit, they're not gonna do shit. What can they do? They're a bunch of fuckin' amateurs, and meanwhile, look at the bottom line: Who's sittin' on a million fuckin' dollars? Am I wrong?
The Dude: Walter?
Walter Sobchak: Who's got a fuckin' million fuckin' dollars sittin' in the trunk of our car?
The Dude: Our car, Walter?
Walter Sobchak: And whadda they got? My dirty undies... My fucking whites...
[They walk out of the bowling alley and see the Dude's car gone. The portable phone starts ringing]
Walter Sobchak: Say, dude. Where is your car?
Donny: Who's got your undies, Walter?
Walter Sobchak: Where's your car, dude?
The Dude: You don't know, Walter?
Walter Sobchak: [clears throat] It was parked in a handicapped zone, perhaps they towed it.
The Dude: You fucking know its been stolen.
Walter Sobchak: Well, certainly that's a possibility, Dude.
The Dude: Oh fuck it.



Walter Sobchak: Is this your homework, Larry? Is this your homework, Larry?
The Dude: Look, man...
Walter Sobchak: Dude, please? Is this your homework, Larry?
The Dude: Just ask him about the car.
Walter Sobchak: Is this yours, Larry? Is this your homework, Larry?
The Dude: Is that your car out front?
Walter Sobchak: Is this your homework, Larry?
The Dude: We know it's his fucking homework! Where's the fucking money, you little brat?
Walter Sobchak: Look, Larry. Have you ever heard of Vietnam?
The Dude: Oh, for Christ's sake, Walter...
Walter Sobchak: You're entering a world of pain, son. We know that this is your homework. We know that you stole a car.
The Dude: And the fucking money.
Walter Sobchak: And the fucking money. And, we know that this is your homework.
The Dude: We're going to cut your dick off, Larry.
Walter Sobchak: You're killing your father, Larry!



THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK A STRANGER IN THE ASS!!!!





Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: Then what do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with cheese.
Jules: Royale with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.
Jules: Le Big-Mac. Ha ha ha ha. What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.

Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn.
Vincent: I've seen 'em do it, man. They fuckin' drown 'em in that shit.




Jules: Hey kids! How you boys doin'?
Jules: Hey, keep chillin'. You know who we are? We're associates of your business partner Marsellus Wallace. You do remember your business partner don't you? Let me take a wild guess here. You're Brett, right?
Brett: Yeah.
Jules: I thought so. You remember your business partner Marsellus Wallace, don't you, Brett?
Brett: Yeah, yeah, I remember him.
Jules: Good. Looks like me an Vincent caught you boys at breakfast. Sorry about that. Whatcha havin'?
Brett: Hamburgers.
Jules: Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. What kind of hamburgers?
Brett: Ch-cheeseburgers.
Jules: No, no no, where'd you get 'em? McDonalds? Wendy's? Jack in the Box? Where?
Brett: Big Kahuna Burger.
Jules: Big Kahuna Burger. That's that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got some tasty burgers. I ain't never had one myself. How are they?
Brett: They're good.
Jules: Mind if I try one of yours? This is yours here, right?
[Picks up burger and takes a bite]
Jules: Mmm-mmmm. This is a tasty burger. Vincent, Have you ever had a Big Kahuna Burger?
[Vincent shakes his head]
Jules: Wanna bite? They're real tasty.
Vincent: Ain't hungry.
Jules: Well, if you like burgers give 'em a try sometime. I can't usually get 'em myself because my girlfriend's a vegitarian which pretty much makes me a vegitarian. But I do love the taste of a good burger. Mm-mm-mm. You know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?
Brett: No.
Jules: Tell 'em, Vincent.
Vincent: A Royale with cheese.
Jules: A Royale with cheese! You know why they call it that?
Brett: Because of the metric system?
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett! You're a smart motherfucker. That's right. The metric system. What's in this?
Brett: Sprite.
Jules: Sprite, good. You mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?
Brett: Go right ahead.
Jules: Ah, hit the spot.



Jules:Oh, I'm sorry, did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue, you were saying something about best intentions. What's the matter? Oh, you were finished! Well, allow me to retort. What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country are you from?
Brett: What? What? Wh - ?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I've ever heard of. They speak English in What?
Brett: What?
Jules: English, motherfucker, do you speak it?
Brett: Yes! Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm sayin'!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: Say 'what' again. Say 'what' again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker, say what one more Goddamn time!



Jules: My name's Pitt. And your ass ain't talkin' your way out of this shit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vincent: Whoa!
Jules: What the fuck's happening, man? Ah, shit man!
Vincent: Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face.
Jules: Why the fuck did you do that!
Vincent: Well, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident!
Jules: Oh man I've seen some crazy ass shit in my time...
Vincent: Chill out, man. I told you it was an accident. You probably went over a bump or something.
Jules: Hey, the car didn't hit no motherfucking bump!
Vincent: Hey, look man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a bitch. The gun went off. I don't know why.
Jules: Well look at this fucking mess, man. We're on a city street in broad daylight here!
Vincent: I don't believe it.
Jules: Well believe it now, motherfucker! We gotta get this car off the road! You know cops tend to notice shit like you're driving a car drenched in fucking blood.
Vincent: Just take it to a friendly place, that's all.
Jules: This in the Valley, Vincent. Marsellus ain't got no friendly places in the Valley.
Vincent: Well Jules, this ain't my fucking town, man!
Jules: Shit!



Jules: Fuck, nigga, what the fuck did you do to his towel?
Vincent: I was dryin' my hands.
Jules: You're supposed to wash 'em first!
Vincent: You watched me wash 'em.
Jules: I watched you get 'em wet.
Vincent: I was washing 'em. But this shit's hard to get off. Maybe if I had Lava or something, I coulda done a better job.
Jules: I used the same fuckin' soap you did and when I got finished, the towel didn't look like no goddamn Maxi-Pad!


Jules: Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Me and Vince would have been satisfied with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, right? But he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?
Jimmie: Knock it off, Julie.
Jules: [pause] What?
Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys SHIT. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I want to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It AIN'T the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead nigger in my garage.
Jules: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...
Jimmie: [interupting] No, No, No, No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage"?
Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no shi...
Jimmie: Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage"?
Jules: No. I didn't.
Jimmie: You know WHY you didn't see that sign?
Jules: Why?
Jimmie: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!



Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from your ass is, You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the calvary which should be coming directly.
Marsellus: You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf who should be coming directly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jules: Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers accidentally get shot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Oh, man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Get the fuck out my face with that shit! The motherfucker that said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.



~MOTHER FUCKER!




Dr. Gonzo: Sounds like big trouble. You're going to need plenty of legal advice before this thing is over. As your attorney, I advise you to rent a very fast car with no top. And you'll need the cocaine. Tape recorder for special music. Acapulco shirts. Get the hell out of L.A. for at least 48 hours. Blows my weekend.
Raoul Duke: Why?
Dr. Gonzo: Because naturally I'm going to have to go with you. And we're going to have to arm ourselves... to the teeth!


We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like:

Raoul Duke: I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive.

Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, and a voice was screaming:

Raoul Duke: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals?
Huh! Huh! Huh! Fucking pigs.
Dr. Gonzo: Did you say something?
Raoul Duke: Hm? Never mind. It's your turn to drive.

No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastard will see them soon enough.
~We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

Dr. Gonzo: Let's give the boy a lift.
Raoul Duke: What? No. We can't stop here. This is bat country.


~GET IN

Dr. Gonzo: As your attorney, I advise you to take a hit out of the little brown bottle in my shaving kit. You won't need much, just a tiny taste.

~Ignore this terrible drug. Yeah. Pretend it's not happening.
Raoul Duke: Yeah. HI THERE! My name... is, uh, Raoul Duke. I'm on the list, that's for sure. Free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage. I have my attorneyyyyyyy, with me, and I realize that his name is not on that list, but we must have that suite! Must have that suite. What's the score here? What's next?
Desk Clerk at Mint Hotel: Your suite isn't ready yet. But someone was looking for you...
Raoul Duke: [seeing her morph into an eel] Why? We haven't done anything yet!

Raoul Duke: There's a uh, big machine in the sky, some kind of, I dunno, electric snake, coming straight at us.
Dr. Gonzo: Shoot it.
Raoul Duke: Not yet, I want to study its habits.

Raoul Duke: I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds.

Raoul Duke: Wear some golf shoes, otherwise we'll never get out of this place alive. Impossible to walk in this muck. No footing at all.


Parking Attendant: You can't park your car here.
Raoul Duke: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?
Parking Attendant: Reasonable? You're on a sidewalk! This is the sidewalk!

Dr. Gonzo: Cows are gonna kill me. Bisexuals are gonna kill me. Let's get out of here, where's the elevator?
Raoul Duke: No, fuck! Don't go near the elevator man, that's just what they want us to do. Trap us in a steel box, take us down to the basement. Come here. Don't run, man. They'd like any excuse to shoot us.



... Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?



One toke, man. One toke over the liiiiiinee.



Jesus! Bad waves of paranoia, madness, fear and loathing, intolerable vibrations in this place. Get out! The weasels were closing in. I could smell the ugly brutes.

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