Almost every quote from the lovelable sexist clueless coward, Zapp Brannigan of Futurama.
Call me “cocky”, but if there’s an alien out there I can’t kill then I haven’t met him and killed him yet.
I don’t care if your skin is red or tan or Chinese, we’re all going to have to learn to die together. Isn’t that right soldier?
They said it couldn’t be done, Kif. But here we are, stealing an unlimited supply of birthday-grade helium from the unsuspecting moon.
Oh, ho, ho! The luscious Captain Leela. This is turning into one very sexy struggle for the future of the human race.
All this heat has rendered me par-ched. Which of these doo-whackies dispenses Horchata?
You won’t have time for sleeping soldier. Not with all the bed-making you’ll be doing.
If we can hit that bull’s-eye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. Checkmate.
On my command, all ships will line up and file directly into the alien death cannons, clogging them with wreckage!
I hate these filthy neutrals, Kif. With enemies, you know where they stand. But with neutrals, who knows. It sickens me.
I’m afraid there isn’t time to discuss the many presents I bought. Some of which are large.
It was almost the perfect crime, but you forgot one thing. Rock crushes scissors. But paper covers rock… and scissors cuts paper! Kif, we have a conundrum. Search them for paper! And bring me a rock.
What makes a man turn neutral? Lust for gold? Power? Or were you just born with a heart full of neutrality?
If there’s one thing I don’t need it’s your “I don’t think that’s wise” attitude.
The very same Zapp Brannigan that did not blow up DOOP headquarters! I rest my case.
These delicious clumps aren’t for eating. Mmm. They’re for manscaping. Manscape me, Kif. That’s an order.
My God! What the hell happened down there? It looks like the whole planet has psoriasis.
My friends, you can take away a man’s title and uniform, but you could never take away his integrity or his honor. Plus, it was mostly Kif’s fault.
One day a man has everything. And the next day he blows up a 400 billion dollar space station. And the next day he has nothing. It makes you think.
Seems they recognize a fellow Apex predator. Well, four can play that game.
Leela, I didn’t know where else to turn. You’re the only woman who ever loved me. I mean physically.
Oh god! They’re nuzzling me! Stop licking my velour! It’s dry clean only! And stay away from my scrotums!
But should she ever introduce some sort of bare bottom, spanking policy, let me go in your place. I won’t have my comrades harmed.
No, Kif, the DOOP never leaves a man behind. Especially when I’m the man.
Here’s to us poor shmoes working for the man. Even if he is a hot, sexy, female man.
Leela, you may be a formidable doer of the nasty, but I am forced to relieve you of your post.
Naked Kif, you saved my life. You have my undying loyalty. Eat Kif! He’s boneless!
Now, in the name of all that is good and honorable, we’ll call the neutral president with a message of peace and blast him!
Um, I was promised a lollipop? Mmm. Tastes like wig glue.
Captains log. Stardate: National Donut Day. We’re under attack from a ship made of solid fire. All weapons simply pass through and come out the other end. Like that ball bearing I once mistook for a mint.
So, it’s mutiny is it? I never thought I’d see the day. Come, Kif! I have a children’s space suit you can wear.
Pray fetch my travel tub. I do my best thinking in the shower.
So, when Captain Leela panicked, perhaps distracted by female troubles, I did whatever I did to save the day.
Lieutenant Kroker! You expect me to think without a loofah? Where is my loofah?
Kif, I was heading to the men’s room and I was needing an attendant and, oh, I’m sorry, you’re crying, like a woman.
Here’s my personal book of pick up lines. Say as many of them as you can as fast as you can. Don’t stop for any reason.
There’s only one sure fire way into a woman’s heart and parts beyond. I speak, of course, of karaoke.
There’s not a restaurant built that I can’t fly. Ah, she’s built like a steakhouse, but she handles like a bistro.
You just seem so tense. Also, you should smile more. You’re prettier when you smile. See? It’s just nicer for everyone.
So, Emperor Chop Chop. Once again we meet at last. Drop that space gun or I’ll shoot. Like so!
I’m here for the sensitivity training, and, uh, also, do you have a better looking sister?
I can’t face this mysterious planet alone without you or someone like you.
I thought it might help you forget your intense hatred for me if you were a teensy bit delirious.
I wanted to offer you the chocolates, I truly did! But I was concerned about your waistline. Very concerned.
Right now? But I need a little romance first! Maybe a vanilla candle or something.
So, our ship was real? And the simulation was simulated?
That was a close call, but we saved earth! Was it as good for you as it was for the human race?
I now know there’s a difference between right and wrong. One of them gets you canceled.
In conclusion, I sincerely apologize to all those I’ve harmed. Especially Kif Kroker, the giant sex ladies of Amazonia, simulated Leela, and of course, the late Dr. Kind.
She’s a beautiful ship all right. Shapely. Seductive. I’m going to fly her brains out.
A well-calculated move, straight out of Sun Tsu's "The Art of War". Or my own masterwork, "Zapp Brannigan's Big Book of War".
Comets. The icebergs of the sky. By jackknifing from one to the next at breakneck speed, we might just get some kind of gravity "boost", or something.
Your attention please. As captain of this vessel, the terrible burden of naming a limbo contest winner is mine and mine alone.
I like your style, Fry. You remind me of a young me. Not too much younger, mind you. Perhaps even a couple of years older.
But as a gentleman, I must warn you. If you so much as glance at another woman, I’ll be all over Leela like a fly on a pile of very seductive manure.
Kif, old friend, I don’t know what disgusts me more – your cowardice or your stupidity.
We’ll simply set a new course for that empty region over there. Near that blackish, hole-ish thing.
Kif I’m bored. What say you go out on the wing and pretend you’re a gremlin?
Honored guests. And Kif. One of a captain’s many superpowers is the ability to conduct a marriage. So I will now join myself in holy macaroni.
The moment they sign, we destroy their fleet in one glorious burst of quote-unquote "self-defense".
You’re from Next Stream Up? So am I! I can tell from the magnets in my head, or whatever. Let’s go!
Alas, after a series of deadly blunders caused by distracting, low-cut fatigues and lots of harmless pinching, the army decided women weren’t fit for service. Not when I’m in charge.
Men, you are lucky men. Soon you’ll be fighting for your planet. Many of you will be dying for your planet. A few of you will be forced through a fine mesh screen for your planet. They will be the luckiest of all.
We know nothing about their language, their history, or what they look like. But we can assume this: they stand for everything we don’t stand for. Also, they told me you guys look like dorks!
What’s the matter private? Tent got your tongue? He, he. Tent got your… Kif, write that down and send it to “Humor in Uniform”.
He edged out my old mark by two seconds. And 16 minutes. And two hours. I do plan to finish someday Kif.
Lemon, you’re a man’s man. You’re a man’s man’s man. More importantly, your hand, while firm and masculine, is soft as a velvet child.
Private Lee Lemon might be the finest recruit I’ve seen in all my years of service. That young man fills me with hope. And some other emotions that are weird, and deeply confusing me.
And now, for the battle plan. As you all know, the key to victory is the element of surprise. Surprise!
Look at this sissy, Kif. While others were fighting and dying pointlessly, he was hiding in a hole. Wallowing in a pool of his own cowardice.
I hearby order that in Bender’s honor, he be melted down and made into a statue of himself.
Dammit Kif, where is the little umbrella? That’s what makes it a scotch on the rocks.
You’ll be negotiating with the aliens’ mysterious leaders, the brain balls. They’ve got a lot of brains, and a lot of... chutzpah.
Leela! So it’s you I’ve been attracted to! Oh, God. I’ve never been so happy to be beaten up by a woman.
Hmm. 198 billion babies in a few weeks. We’ll need an army of super-virile men, scoring ‘round the clock! I’ll do my part. Kif, clear my schedule.
Using the twin guns of grace and tact, I blasted our worthless enemies with a fair compromise.
At the negotiations, they thought Kif here was the statesman and I was a jabbering mental patient.
Why’d you open your bong hole you smelly hippie? You’d sacrifice a beautiful woman to save a moderately attractive monkey? You must’ve smoked some bad granola.
Now, remember Kif, the quickest way into a girl’s bed is through her parents. Have sex with them and you’re in.
That’s natural. After all, you’re meek and uninteresting. Until now, you’ve gotten by on my leftover charisma. Scrounging off it like a tiny charisma parasite.
And why wouldn’t they? Yes, yes, I know – tiny, meek, uninteresting. Spare me your tedious life story, Kif. And above all, have fun.
How do we know she’s alive? Shh! You’re weakening our bargaining position.
How about instead, you give us the girl, and we carve a bunch of our presidents into your sacred mountain?
This court martial is now in session. The honorably sexy Zapp Brannigan residing.
Tsk tsk tsk. I’ve never heard of such a brutal and shocking injustice that I cared so little about.
This court will now hear some very sensual testimony from this court’s ex-lover, Turanga Leela.
Happy Freedom Day, ladies! Come on, let loose and show me something. Anything. Seriously. I’d take an armpit.
Remember men – take him alive so there’s something left to kill.
All right, Kif. Let’s show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do.
You’re damn right there is. That strapping young lad’s gunning for your job. And he just might get it.
Lieutenant, fire missile one and recommend me for another medal. Make it gaudy. I’m going clubbing later.
Lieutenant, some things came off me and clogged the drain. So if you could… oh, ho! What’s this?
Well, well well. Do my eyes believe me, or is that my bosomy swan, Leela?
Kif! I’m sensing a very sensual disturbance in the force. Prepare for ship-to-ship intimacy.
Dang! The last time that happened I got slapped with three paternity suits.
I’m sure we’re all a little unclear on how anyone gets pregnant, so, Kif, pray explain. And don’t spare the dirty words where appropriate.
Ah, my home away from home. By the way, Kif, your flush seems to be set on “stun” not “kill”.
Leela, how could you? Our love has had to endure your constant hatred, and now this? Stop testing our love!
Let’s see, oh, yes. Yes, definitely. I’d like some of that. Mmm. I’ll just have everything on the menu.
I believe you know the heroic space stallion, who captured it. Show them my medal, Kif.
The Spidarians, though weak and womanlike on the battlefield, are masters of the textile arts. Taste like king crab, by the way.
Crazy bugs actually wove this tapestry of my heroic conquest while I was still killing them.
We fight this battle, not for ourselves, but for our children, and our children’s children. Which is why I am forming a children’s brigade! Will the following youths please step forward.
Assuming the 15th pile of children buys us a few seconds, we will then execute maneuver 45.
Leela, I can’t help but notice you’re unescorted. Might I escort you behind that bush for the next five minutes?
Ever since man first left his cave and met a stranger with a different language and a new way of looking at things, the human race has had a dream – to kill him so we don’t have to learn his language, or his new way of looking at things!
Hell of a thing to send a universe to certain doom. Fun, though. Makes a man feel big.
Kif, climb down there and unjam it will you? Be a dear. And stop sighing so much.
Captain’s log. Star date, the Year of the Tiger. The battle has been bravely fought, and the suffering of our troops beyond measure. But the alien is invulnerable, and our defeat inevitable. That much is obvious, even from my remote command post here at the Times Square Applebee’s.
Waiter! Take this fried mozzarella back to the kitchen and fry it some more.
Hurry, Leela! We don’t have much time to begin repopulating earth. Go brush your teeth. I’ll be waiting for you naked under this kessa-dilla.
Leela, it’s getting dark. We may have to make a tent out of Amy‘s skin.
He was my fourth lieutenant, for God’s sake. And bore the Peppermill at the Captains table.
As my ex-lover, you’re naturally shocked and jealous, but you may well get your chance again someday. How bout today? At four?
She’s right! Leela! You must try the tentacle. It’s like my soul is wearing a velour body glove.
We loved you. And you turn around and treat us like some kind of woman?
Let’s just send a text message. Say we’re going through some “weird stuff” right now.
Give the poor girl a break, Kif. It’s not like she had a dictionary. She was butt naked for God’s sakes.
Mr. President, I failed to identify these curvaceous banditas, despite hours of staring at their dossieres.
Bender here has identified the femdito commander as my ex-lover, Turanga Leela, whom I once made love at.
So, they wanna play mini-golf, eh? Two can play at that game. Or even four, depending on the number of ball colors available. I choose pink.
How many men did we lose? Well, at least they won’t have to mourn each other. Seal the airlocks. And draw the shades.
Set course for the nearest XM repair facility. Meanwhile, we will sing top hits from the 80s.
My bloodhound-like instincts must’ve hunted them down, while my other parts were throbbing to Duran Duran.
Before the “grand finally” as it were, it seems only fitting that I, Commodore 64 Zapp Brannigan, say a few brief pages in honor of…
By God, I’m the greatest speaker of all time! They’re suckling at the teats of my every syllable-uh.
And so, as we obliterize this star, let us remember those immortal words once spoken by a great man – moi – and I quote, “all good things must come to an end, preferably in a humongous explosion”.
Fire all weapons and open a hailing frequency for my victory yodel.
So, you thought you could conquer us so easily, eh? Nice job. We surrender. Earth is yours.
We fought like hell, sir! In the end, we caved like a house of soufflé cards.
Yo, freak show! Your face has been declared a weapon of mass disgusting!
Thank you. Thank you. Kif! You’re slacking off on my waving arm.
Mmm-ha! Leela, we meet again. But this time I’m the one criticizing the sausage.
Fear not, Leela! They may not have technology like us, but we have something they don’t have – technology.
Behold! Our latest weapon. A revolutionary fleet of unmanned drones. With men in them.
Foolproof and durable, it’s designed to withstand the weight of a modern-day elephant foot. Aaaaahhh!
Up here in the clouds, our technology makes us invincible. Like the mighty X in tic-tac-toe.
Look at those pathetic looking caveman down there, loading their catapult with what looks like, what is that, Kif?
So be it. In recognition of your overwhelming victory, let’s call it a draw.
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