O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Well, why not? I can use
some civilised conversation.

Don't forget your shoe box, friend.
Damn shame!
Goddam campaign is lagging!

We need a shot in the arm.
Hear me, boys? In the goddam arm!

Election held tomorrow, that
sumbitch Stokes would win in a walk!

He's the reform candidate, Daddy.
- Yeah?
- A lot of people like that reform.

Maybe we should get us some.
I'll reform you,
you soft-headed son of a bitch.

How we gonna run reform?
We're the incumbent!

Is that the best you can
come up with? Reform?!

Weepin' Jesus on the cross.
That's it!
Start drafting my concession speech
right now.

OK, Pappy.
I'm just making a point,
you stupid son'bitch.

- Give me back that hat!
- Pappy's just makin' a point.

Shut up!
Thank you for that fricassee.
I'm a man of large appetites.

Even with lunch under my belt,
I was a mite peckish.

Our pleasure.
Thank you as well for
the conversational hiatus.

I generally refrain
from speech during gustation.

There are those who attempt
both at the same time.

I find it coarse and vulgar.
- Where were we?
- Making money in the Lord's service.

Friend, when you do speak,
it's to the point and I salute you.

Yes, Bible sales.
The trade is not complicated.
There are two things to learn...

One, find a wholesaler,
the word of God in bulk, as it were.
Two, recognise your customer.
Who are you dealing with?

It's an exercise in psychology,
so to speak.

And it is that which I propose
to give you a lesson in right now.

I like to think I'm an astute
observer of the human scene, too.

No doubt, brother.
I figured as much at the restaurant.