"You are an inspiration to inbred morons everywhere."

The King of the Hill Quotes Page: "Ceci N'est Pas Une King of the Hill"

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Quotes from "Ceci N'est Pas Une King of the Hill"
Written by Etan Cohen
Directed by Tricia Garcia

MR. STRICKLAND: Zoning board won't give you something for nothing. They passed this public art law. Got to beautify one part of town before they let you uglify another. Keeps everything nice and even.

BOBBY: Do you already know what kind of art you're going to buy? Because I should let you know now, I'm willing to pose for a statue.

(signs in art shop)
- Close your eyes and think of Freud
- Icons defamed: 25 cents

BALD ARTIST: A life-size portrait of George Washington. It's a hologram. From here, Washington, but from over here, he morphs into Adolph Hitler. Washington, Hitler. Washington, Hitler.

MIDDLE-AGED MALE ARTIST: Picture Ronald Reagan squatting over...
HANK: Aaahh!
YOUNG WOMAN ARTIST: I have just the thing. I'm calling it "Industrial Penis # 5."
HANK: Bobby! Car!

BOOMHAUER: Man, you're naive, man... talkin' 'bout ol' Dada, man, little ol' toys in a museum, you know, dang ol' ideas, man.
HANK: I never could understand a word of that art mumbo-jumbo.

(Dale walks up wearing a suit of armor)
DALE: Don Quixote's Authentic Spanish Cuisine and Karaoke went out of business, and guess what I bought from them?... A suit of armor!

HANK: Heck, Peggy, why don't you make the art? It can't be very hard. I mean, even the people who do it for a living don't seem very good at it.

PEGGY: Let me think. Propane... America... the future. I've got it! A Probot!
HANK: A what?
PEGGY: A Probot, Hank. A robot made entirely of propane tanks, welcoming people to the future. A future of Arlen pride, and hard work, and clean-burning barbecues.

TEENAGER: Hey, dude, you wanna stop that?
DALE: No I don't, you armorless jackass!

HANK: What do you think, sir?
MR. STRICKLAND: It don't matter what I think. It could be a statue of two dogs a-humpin', as long as the zoning board thinks it's art.

HANK: I like the Probot. You look at the Probot, he looks at you, you think, "Hey, things are going to be okay."

JAZZ: Your stuff has been flying out of the gallery. Your latest -- the Prinker -- brilliant.

JAZZ: You don't discover a Peggy Hill every day. It's a rare privilege. But then it happens; you find someone the art world has ignored. Here is someone who, despite having no formal education, has been able to touch us. Her mind lacks the fine tools of the academy, but she hacks and bludgeons with the blunt instruments of her unspoiled, childlike spirit. Since the day she came down from the mountains and became the child-bride of a simple laborer, she has been looking for a way to express her anger at the world passing her by. She is angry, she is practically illiterate, but like a wounded animal crying out, she makes herself heard. Thank you, Peggy, for letting us hear you.

MARGOT: Peggy, you are an inspiration to inbred morons everywhere.

JAZZ: Let's face it: middle-aged hausfrau stacks a bunch of propane tanks, even I'm falling asleep. But say it's made by someone straight out of Deliverance, and ka-ching!

JIMMY: Hey, you make guys too? I make guys. Don't copy my guys! (to people admiring his sculpture) You gotta shake it! Guy don't work if you don't shake it!

JIMMY: Hey, what happen to the stuff I made?
JAZZ: Your art? We sold it.
JIMMY: You sold the stuff I made? I want it back! Give it!
JAZZ: No. Remember, we sell it, I give you money.
JIMMY: I can't make new stuff out of money! Gimme cans! I want cans, yeah, the good ones, to smash 'em!
JAZZ: You don't want money, you want cans?
JIMMY: Yeah!
JAZZ: You're the boss, Jimmy.
JIMMY: I'm the boss!

JAZZ: Look, I can see the inbred hillbilly thing is really bothering you, so I'll make you a deal. I'll say she's insane. But it's got to be criminally insane, or we've got nothing.
HANK: No! Mister, you just sold your last Probot.
JAZZ: How about siphyllitic? Hook-hands? Trans-gender?

DALE: Bill, roll me over so I can kick your ass! Actually, just move your ass closer.

PEGGY (to the Probot): That's right, metal-head. This is personal.


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