Posts Tagged: IfTeddy

144 things.
Jan 10th, 2002
WHALE: Good morning, Iftheodorerooseveltwerearabbit. How were the primaries? IFTEDDY: Not good. Turns out people aren't keen on liberal public urination policies. WHALE: Maybe if you'd stop kissing attractive married women after your speeches. With your tongue. IFTEDDY: Look, babies are so passé.
Jan 31st, 2002

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Jan 4th, 2017
(MURPHY is holding up a copy of the Long Island Ledger, with the headline 'Trump Names Cabinet' at the top, and a prominent ad saying 'Become A Private Eye' at the bottom) MURPHY: ...and Charlie Sheen as head of the ATF. IFTEDDY: Shut up what's that. MURPHY: This is a newspaper. IFTEDDY: Shut up not this, that! MURPHY: That is an advertisement. Advertisements make newspapers possible. In fact-- IFTEDDY: Become a private eye, eh? ...Yes. Yes. Women. A gun... Yes. (Interior of IFTEDDY'S new private eye office) GORGEOUS ART DECO-ERA FEMALE CLIENT: Are you Buck Fancy, Private Eye? IFTEDDY: That's the name on the door, ain't it, baby? CLIENT: Sex me now, mister! IFTEDDY: I'm only good at two things, tootsie gams. Peelin' grapefruits and firing my gun. And you don't look like a grapefruit to me. Peppers! Applesauce! CLIENT: What?
Jan 13th, 2017

Jun 30th, 2017

Feb 5th, 2019
MURPHY: Don't you think it's time to issue an official statement regarding your belligerent tantrum at the Suffolk County Blueberry Festival? #Muffingate has already become a trending scandal, congressman. IFTEDDY: Then they shouldn't have run out of blueberries, should they! MURPHY: ...You're saying the temporary pause in your blueberry muffin consumption did not prompt you to freak out and start the most potentially devastating commercial bakery fire in New York's 231-year state history? IFTEDDY: I handled the situation like a professional cucumber cooler is what I did. MURPHY: I wouldn't call throwing old women to the dirty ground as you explode through a flaming doorway screaming 'we're all gonna die' handling a momentary blueberry shortage like a professional anything. IFTEDDY: Please, there's no need to call me a hero. The only rewards I need are the smiles of the children whose grandmothers I used as human shields, and the purses I nabbed while selflessly running from the factory's burning skeleton.
Aug 29th, 2019
(IfTeddy and Little Girl are at a strip club, Little Girl is blindfolded) IFTEDDY: Hey keep it on, I said! LITTLE GIRL: I know we're at a strip club, congressman. The whole place smells like shrimp daiquiris and industrial stain remover. IFTEDDY: We certainly are NOT at a strip club! This is a very exclusive pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey club for government officials like myself, truck drivers, and Asian businessmen. LITTLE GIRL: Oh boy! Why didn't you say so! Can I have a turn! IFTEDDY: Why, sure! Here is a large pin. The donkey's name is Tapioca. (Exterior of T.A. Jigglesqueezer's Upscale Gentlemen's Money Pit) IFTEDDY (from inside a car, about to pull away): 5...Finishing my drink. 4...Grabbing my coat. 3...Slipping out the back. 2...Starting the car. 1. Leaving quietly before the cops arrive. AND...
Dec 5th, 2019
(Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin is being interviewed by Sean Hannity on Fox News with the caption 'Treas. Secretary To Dump Loads Into Economy') MNUCHIN: The reality, Sean, is simply this--dog shit is money...And should be used as such from now on. (IfTeddy is shown watching this program on TV and gleefully exclaiming) IFTEDDY: Oh BOY!! Dog shit is money, I KNEW it! Now where'm I gonna find a whole buncha-- (Exterior Murphy's house, IfTeddy is speaking to him on the doorstep as Murphy eats a plate of cake) MURPHY: You can have all the shit I make. IFTEDDY: Really?! MURPHY: It's all yours. IFTEDDY: Hey--you're being awful nice to me, considering you're a liberal newspaper reporter and all... MURPHY: Pal, this economy is about to Hindenburg all over the place. And whereas I can always make my own money, you, alas, cannot. It's God's way. Now follow me. (IfTeddy and Murphy are standing on the back patio of Murphy's house, looking at a lawn full of dog shit) IFTEDDY: Wow! Where am I gonna put all this money! MURPHY: How about where your mouth is.
Mar 31st, 2021
(Whale is looking content against a landscape) WHALE: Ahh...This is the only way to travel... (A wider shot reveals Whale immersed in a vat labeled 'GRAVY' on an open train car) WHALE: ...By gravy train! (Suddenly he is uncomfortable and reaches down into the gravy) WHALE: Ow! What the- (He pulls up a plastic baggie with four keys in it) WHALE: I wonder what these go to? Well, I'd better try 'em in the first place I come to with locks! (Whale makes his way through a train car to the exit, passing a child gleefully kicking the back of Murphy's seat while he attempts to type on his commute, as well as a pair of empty suits of armor conversing) ARMOR 1: Sometimes I only feel like a shell of my former self ARMOR 2: I know joust what you mean! (Whale spots a bank of coin lockers in the train station, next to a Daily Gnus stand and a Sin-A-Bun shop) WHALE: Excellent! And narratively convenient! (He tries the key in a series of increasingly bizarre locks until finally it fits one) WHALE: Nope...nope...nope...uhhhh...Aha! Boy, if this nonsense had gone on much longer I'd have had a lot of emotional... (He opens the locker, revealing a valise) WHALE: Baggage? Well, hopefully unlocking this will put an end to this brief... (He unlocks the valise, revealing a portfolio) WHALE: ...Case? Alright, this is getting weird and I'm beginning to fear for my safety... (He unlocks the portfolio, revealing a lockbox) WHALE: ...Deposit box?? So help me, if there is an even smaller locking container inside this one, I'm all out of keys so it'll be a recipe for disas- (He opens the box, revealing two paper items) WHALE: Oh. It's a recipe for pistachio cake, actually. Hey! And a photo of me and my favorite Whaleshavik, Catherine, from 2002! These are some pretty odd things to find quadruple-locked in this remote train station. I wonder who- Holy shit, hang on, 2002?? Why in Krill's name is she still a little girl after nineteen years?? (A nearby alarm sounds with an ominous 'Dun dun DUNNNN!')
Apr 9th, 2021
(Little Girl is dressed as a spangly magician and talking to IfTeddy) IFTEDDY: Well, someone's been to the sequin depot!...Or has burgled Liberace's...grave? LITTLE GIRL: You do close-up magic, right? IFTEDDY: Who told you that filthy lie! Are you recording this conversation? LITTLE GIRL: ...No? IFTEDDY: Well then you're double damn right I do close-up! Stage name's David Cop-a-feel. What's your handle? LITTLE GIRL: Catherine The Great! IFTEDDY: Nuh-uh. Gotta change that name. There already was a Catherine The Great, and she was a deluxe badass. A poet with a broadsword, downright refused to produce proper babies, let everybody eat cake for supper. Tits like a racehorse. LITTLE GIRL: If you love her so much, why doncha marry her! IFTEDDY: Because I'm not a melonfarming communist, that's why! LITTLE GIRL: Every vulgar word you've said in the last minute seems grossly inaccurate, but I choose to believe you because you talk like the pirate on the fishsticks commercial they play on Nickelodeon PM.
Apr 13th, 2021
(IfTeddy is visiting Little Girl's second grade class) MS. MCALPINE: Ok class! Let's give a warm Montauk Elementary welcome to New York's first congressional district representative, the dashing and sophisticated Mr. Iftheodorerooseveltwerearabbit! IFTEDDY: Thanks, candy gams. And I'd just like to say that even though I'm required to teach you poetry here today as part of my court-ordered community service sentence for indecent exposure, there's nowhere I'd rather be than as close to your teacher as the cops will allow. Right! First, let's look at a handy tool called assonance! I'm sure you can all hear the repeated vowel sound in this sentence. (He writes 'Paul got fondled by Ronald McDonald.' on the board and the children look quizzically at each other and Little Girl looks impassive) IFTEDDY: Now let's learn how a single comma can change a declarative sentence, which relays information, into an imperative sentence, which gives a command! (He writes 'Grimace spit on me.' and then 'Grimace, spit on me!' on the board. The children look shocked and Little Girl looks annoyed) IFTEDDY: Here's a fun little device called consonance. Can you identify the repeated 'S' sounds in this sentence? Of course! (He writes 'Mayor McCheese must resist selling smack or risk prison.' on the board, and the children look repulsed and Little Girl looks very angry) IFTEDDY: And finally, what poem would be complete without some good ol' fashioned alliteration! (He writes 'The Hamburglar Has Herpes.' on the board and the children start crying and Little Girl continues to look angry) MS. MCALPINE: Congressman, your sexy command of the English language is second only to William Shakespeare himself, and your ability to reduce an entire second grade class to tears of joy in under five minutes makes you worthy of sainthood. IFTEDDY: Your father was abusive and now you are attracted to horrible men. MS. MCALPINE: You're so insightful! Wanna get a burger?