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: [bombs heard in background
] I hope we're giving it to 'em good, those little yellow reds. Hawkeye
: Frank, you better take two yellow reds and go to sleep. Frank Burns
: Oh, you like getting shot at, Dr. Goody Two-Shoes? Hawkeye
: I just don't know why they're shooting at us. All we want to do is bring them democracy and white bread, transplant the American Dream: freedom, achievement, hyperacidity, affluence, flatulence, technology, tension, the inalienable right to an early coronary sitting at your desk while plotting to stab your boss in the back. That's entertainment! Frank Burns
: Pierce, you are certifiably insane. Hawkeye
: Gee, I can't understand why. Here I am, 20,000 miles from home working as an extra in a war movie with this guy's blood dripping into my boot. Nurse, you want to do something about that, or must I kiss you into submission? Lt. Ginger Bayliss
: Right away, doctor. Hawkeye
: That's not insane-making, Frank. Neither is bedding down every night with a flea circus, or eating food prepared by a cook who used to make box lunches for Kamikaze pilots, or getting so bored out my skull, I put on my dress uniform for a trip to the latrine! Frank Burns
: Will you watch your language? Margaret
: There are nurses present. Hawkeye
: Oh, forgive me. I'd like to offer the nurses a blanket apology. Or even better, I'd like to offer them a blanket invitation. Frank Burns
: Smut merchant. Henry Blake
: Oh, pipe down, Burns. Frank Burns
: Oh sure, always. You jump all over me, but he can say what he wants, and he gets away with it. Colonel's pet, that's what you are! Hawkeye
: I'll get you at recess!
Gen. Wilson Spaulding Barker
: Nurse, is everybody around here crazy? Lt. Ginger Bayliss
: Everybody who's sane is, sir.