Al: I'm never voting again. Like marriage, no matter who you choose it'll turn out bad. Unless your rich. They get everything they want. Well, fine. Let them have their birds, and their clean air... even their new presidents. But we cared about beer and they took it away from us. Yeah, sure, what do they care if a man who sells shoes, or fixes cars, or totes that barge, or spears that doody in the park has to use his whole paycheck to buy one beer? What do they care? They're at their outdoor restaurants eating their little pizzas and drinking some fine wine in the no-smoking section with their sexy, skinny second wives while we're breeding with peasant stock. No offense, Peg. One thing I know, we're never going to win through the system. Voting has never been the American way. We didn't get away from that pansy country England by voting. We did it by throwing their stinking tea in our American harbor. And why? Because Americans don't like tea. We like coffee. And Americans don't like wine. We like beer. Ice cold. Ice cold, best in a bottle, but find in any way you can get it, belching, burping, wake-up-in-a-pool-of-it beer. So let's show them how a man votes. Let's get blitzed and take it to the streets. Let's strike a blow anywhere they dine alfresco, anywhere they eat Brie cheese, and any way they wear their pants up high around their waist in the European way. The only thing Americans understand is mindless Tom and Jerry cartoon violence. So, let's go kick some elite butt. Give me beer, or give me death!
[a now-very large croud around Al cheers]
Al: Or both!
Activist #1: Hey mister, sign this petition and save the trees.
Al: Who cares?
Activist #2: Hey mister, sign this petition to save the world from nuclear holocaust.
Al: Who cares?
[a man named Doug mans another table]
Doug: Hey buddy, they're gonna raise our beer tax two cents.
Al: Oh my God. Well, this has to be stopped.
Marcy: All right... well, would you consider the plight of the speckled songbird? To preserve its melodious tone, we must protect this area from further development.
Al: So those little bastards can sit outside my window and sing all night and I don't get no sleep?
Volunteer #1: [at a voting booth] Is this your first time?
[Bud's smile fades]
Bud: Are you kidding? Why does everyone look at me and just assume I'm a virgin? 'Cause I'm not. Could a virgin tell you the name and the last book read by every Playboy centerfold in the last ten years? I've been there and back, baby. I know the female body like I know my own hand.
Al: [drunk] Family, did you know that, along with an election coming up, there's something big going on. They're trying to sneak by a two cent beer tax. Two cents! And what really gets to me is that the money that they're gonna raise, is gonna go for education! Well, I'll be damned if I'm paying two cents for some moron to learn how to read! I mean, where's it gonna end? I mean, pretty soon they'll be taxing... income!
Marcy: Well, Al, it's nice to see that you care about something besides wondering whose back is hairier, yours or your dog's.
Al: Or, whose chest is hairier, mine or yours.
Muffy: And in the biggest election-related story, people are being urged to eat at home, or at a rib joint. Whatever you do, stay away from any restaurant that starts with 'Chez'. Frenchmen, as if they had to be told, should stay at home. An angry mob led by a balding madman screaming: "I sell shoes, damnit, and I'm stinking drunk!" has run amok. And they've turned the streets white with beer foam.
Al: Come on, Marcy. You above all people should be worried about this tax. I mean after looking at yourself in the morning every day, you MUST drink.
Al: Make way. Voters coming through. Family, breathe the democracy.
[they all take a deep breath and sigh, satisfied]
Al: This is where it all happens. Yes, in a dry cleaner like this they elected Washington and Lincoln. And
[turns around at a round table where this volunteer sits]
Al: , they signed the Declaration of Independence. And from the looks of her, she was probably there to see it. Peg, get a picture of me and Betsy Ross here.
[after a very drunk Al enters carrying a large stash of bananas]
Peggy Bundy: Kids, take these bananas upstairs and put them next to the tangerines that Daddy bought the last time he got whacked.
Kelly Bundy: [quietly to Bud] God, I hate to see Daddy like this.
Bud: [quietly] Me too. I don't like to see him happy either.