All language subtitles for Duckman - 2x08 - Research and Destroy-ing

(quacks)

( car horns honking )

Talk about an outrage!

The FBI Raided
that business I invested in.

You know, I wish they'd publish
some kind of guideline--

"This is baby selling.
This is not baby selling."

Did I get any messages?

Not including collection
agencies,

paternity suits
and death threats.

One-- Ajax's English
teacher wants to meet

with you at school this morning.

English now!
( sighs )

We were so hoping
that was a language

he could learn
by the end of the year.

Ajax, Ajax, Ajax!

Is there something
I could be doing differently?

Well, for one thing,
that's not Ajax.

That's a picture of Clu Gulager
that came with the frame.

Yeah, well, yeah,
of course it is

Mr. Pay-Attention-
To-Every-Little-Detail.

But as soon as I get
a picture of Ajax,

this is the frame
it's going in.

The point is, kids are nothing
but heartache.

You feed them,
you change their diapers,

you play airplane
to get them to eat.

Eat your vegetables or I push!

But where's the payoff?

It wears on you, Corny,
having to drag my butt

down to that school
week after week

to hear the same old speech:

"Blah, blah, blah,
underachiever,

"Blah, blah, blah, unfit parent.

Blah, blah, blah,
ward of the state."

Look on the bright side,
Duckman.

Maybe it'd lead to one
of those special moments

where you discover that
no other joy in life

can possibly match that of
being a proud parent.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

( automatic weapon firing )

Huh, seems a little quieter
than usual.

Bernice said they were trying
to reach out to the kids.

It must be working.

STUDENTS:
"And by the fruit stand,
melonsfull,

The favorite ladies
pull and pull..."

Dad!

Aha. You must be
Mr. Duckman.

I am Daniel O'Captain.

I thought
this was English.

Shouldn't you be
conjugating nouns
or something?

Needless shackles,
Mr. Duckman.

One grows tired of being
strapped to a harness

or being bound and gagged,

of having his feet
nailed to the ground.

But enough
about my weekend.

You're here
to talk about Ajax.

That's right.
Just tell me what he did.

I'll sign a form promising
if he ever does it again,

I'll sign
another form.
No, no, no.

The fact is, I encourage
each of my students

to express his
or her individuality

to find his
or her own voice

by composing original poetry,

and I think you should
hear what Ajax wrote.

Carpe diem, Ajax.

DUCKMAN:
Whoa, son!
Don't jump!

Carpe down-'em, Ajax!

No, no, no,
it's all right,
Mr. Duckman.

He's not going to jump.

I insist the kids
do that in order

to look at things in new ways,

to see things
from a new perspective.

Oh, I see.
What a fascinating method.

( cuckooing )

Too many teachers
are content

to have the class
simply read

and memorize the
words of dead poets.

I like to go further than that.

I like to find out
where those poets are buried

and dig them up
and undress them and...

I know, I know it's wrong,

but they don't have
a 12-step program for
that kind of problem.

Go on, Ajax.

( inhales deeply )

"Pizza walkers
speeding with eyes

"That don't look good
in T-shirts,

Caught between butterscotch
and Sunday."

Okay, son, turn off the meter.

Teach, could we step
outside for a minute?

You like a little t�te-�-t�te?

Uh, no, thanks,
I'm straight.

I just hope you realize
the position I'm in.

If you get mad at a friend,
you don't call him for a while.

An employee messes up,
you can him.

A girlfriend leaves you
for another woman,

you ask if you can watch.

But a son? I mean
when your own flesh and blood

turns out to have the I.Q.
of a weed whacker,

there's only one thing
a father can do.

Blame the mother,
who in this case,

is dead
and can't defend herself.

There's no need to blame anyone,
Mr. Duckman.

I like your son's poetry.

It's fresh. It's original.
It's creative.

The truth is, Ajax is a savant.

Look, that's about enough
with the name-calling,

mon crappy-tan!

Being a savant is
a good thing, Mr. Duckman.

Ajax has a muse inside of him
straining to escape,

and he's going to let it
tonight.

It's open mike night at a
public poetry reading spot.

I know he'd love it
if you'd come.

Son, just stand tall,
be yourself and remember,

no matter what
happens in there,

we're very
proud of you.

What I don't know
from poetry,

I know from potatoes,
and these are cold.

That's not potatoes.

What?

That's not potatoes!

That's butter!

Tastes like potatoes.

What does?

What does what?

Waiter, I'd like
a little more fresca.

I'm not the waiter!

What's the matter?
You too good?

You better than me,
you murdering Nazi?!

Sophie, give me a gun.

What gun?

I got a purse
full of depends.

Ah!

Oop!

Unless Ajax's poems

are about blood clots
and sensible shoes

I think we're about to be
publicly embarrassed.

MAN:
Ladies and gentlemen,

your host for Kolchnik's
Beat Poetry Night,

Shecky Borscht.

( toilet flushing )

Thanks for
that underwhelming reception.

I know you're afraid to clap;
it throws off your pacemakers.

Wake up, folks.

I laughed when you came in
with the funny clothes.

Well, welcome to Poetry Night
at Kolchnik's.

Kolchnik, by the way,
is Polish

for "health code violation."
( chuckles )

I'm dying here.

My favorite poet, Nipsy Russell,
can't be here tonight.

He has a cross burning
on his lawn.

In Bel-Air, they schedule it
in advance

so you can get a sitter
for your money.

Two, three...

Wow. Still pushing
the envelope.

Look, everyone,
I don't care how embarrassing

this turns out to be, this is
an important night for Ajax.

He's getting a chance to learn
the value of being content

with never achieving
anything.

Here we go, our first victim,
uh, da... p-p...

...poet. Now let's make him
feel at home, shall we?

Maybe he'll pull out
his Longfellow.

But, seriously,
ladies and germs...

Ajax.

( toilet flushing )

( lively chatter )

( clearing throat )

( chattering stops )

( chattering resumes,
Ajax breathes deeply )

"Walking up the slide
and sliding down,

"Choco-free and vanilla latte
for sandman exercise.

"What lasagna?

"That lasagna.

"Ever searching free to midland,

"Are you sure what socks
are saying

"Magic soaked
in endless enzyme com-bot?

Painted."

( chattering stops )

( patrons applauding
and cheering )

( conversations buzzing )

DUCKMAN:
Hey, LeBeau, we've been
here for two hours.

That's my son in there!

Like, I don't care
if that's you in there,

and we're all molecules
on your fingertips.

And instead of cars,

we drive around in little
motorized molecule cars.

And instead of...
Maynard, come back to us.

Ajax has become the biggest
thing in the beatnik crowd

since armpit hair
on women.

And until you
find us a table,

I'm going to stand
right here...

Aah! Ohh!

Or I could lie down...

over here.

Ohh!

( women giggling )

Put the marketing figures
with the research figures

and the ad figures with
the accounting figures.

Then give me the figures
on how much time you think
it took to crunch those figures.

BERNICE:
Hey!

We were here first!

Maybe next show

when you've cleared the fog
from your consciousness.

I'll tell you what's
fogging my consciousness.

I have been cooling
my fogging heels

for two fogging hours,

looking at your
stupid fogging face

and soaking up your
snobby fogging attitude.

Now, if you don't find us
a fogging place to sit,

I am going to rip out
your fogging spleen

and shove it down
your fogging throat!

So move your fogging butt

and fogging get us a fogging
table right fogging now!

( gulps )

Uh, this way, please.

Whew!

And don't you forget it.

( lively chatter )

Greetings,
fellow stanzaniac.

( sustained yelling )
( saxophone playing )

( yelling stops )
( music stops )

( smatter of applause )

That was Claypool and Rufus

doing "Saxophone
and Some Screaming #6."

And now, cats and kittens,

here at last to expand
your gray matter

is that young talent
you all came to hear.

Smack them together and
make this a Digable Planet

for Ajax.

( light applause and cheers )

"Lob, bedside, bright, careful.

"Closing closet,
clothing shoehorn.

"Salad dropping,

"Topping, alive...

"Seven, seven,
slowly sifting careful.

"Polish Papa did

"Drift, drift.

"Dancing ice
in enameled chowder

Did."

( wild applause and cheers )

Whoo-hoo!

( grunts )

Go, baby, go.

What can I say?

I'm a sucker
for love poems.

Love poem?

It didn't even have
the word "wept" in it.

Duckman, Daddy-O,
you have ears but cannot hear.

Actually,
you don't have ears.

He's coming back on.

No, wait,
this is really creepy.

How do you hear?
What holds your glasses on?

Never mind
about the ears.

Really. I've never
seen that before.

Hey, guys, you
ever seen anyone
without ears before?

( crowd murmuring )
Those are weird.

( Duckman mumbling )

Ooh!

Beautiful poetry, huh?

Really stirs you up inside.

Ajax's father, right?

Let's interface.

You! You line-cutting,
limo-lounging litter box!

I'm going to rearrange
your interface! I'll...

I'm going to make you rich.

...teach you to
consider me a friend.

Nay, as more
than a friend--

a slave.

Yes, and he is my son.

Light of my life,
fire of my loins.

Sprout of my mighty tree.

Stop drooling on my Bally's.

Barry Brittle, creative V.P.,
Watermark Greeting Cards,

a wholly owned subsidiary
of Mega-Gel Chemical Death Corp.

Name's Duckman.
Duckman with a "D",

as in de-lighted
to make your
acquaintance.

What say we get
to know each other

at my favorite watering
hole, Melons Mania?

Tonight's Grab Two
for the Price
of One Night.

Not interested. I'm gay.

Well, in that case,
we can have

a few umbrella drinks
at the Fern Bar.

Down, Duck.

I don't practice homosexuality.

I just use the gay label
as an accessory.

Studies indicate it makes me

demographically attractive
to my employers,

putting me first in line for any
affirmative action promotions.

My first ten years
at the company, I was black.

I sense your ability to
concentrate is limited,

so let's bottom-line this.

I think your son's poetry
would make great greeting cards.

Sure, if you celebrate
mumbo-jumbo day.

Oops. Was that out loud?

I've got a long-term contract
here.

I had it put on big
cartoony scroll paper

with an outlandishly large
gold seal because research shows

simple minds
are impressed with
this sort of thing.

It worked! I'll sign.

Shrewd negotiator.

Call me tomorrow,

and we'll put that young
genius of yours to work.

Yippie! Yee-ha! Wa-hoo!

We're going to be
rich, rich, rich!

Flushola!
Nipple-deep in greenbacks!

And, of-of course,
Ajax gets to express
his deepest feelings

through his art
to an eager world.

BARRY ( laughing ):
Boy wonder, welcome aboard.

Love your work.
Marvelous stuff.

Unique, piercing,
insightful.

You bring something
special to Watermark.

In a nutshell,
you bring you.

And here's
some research

to help you
mold the you
that you bring.

Research?

Good, good. The ability
to mindlessly repeat

a superior's
key words
is a must.

This graph shows that 98.9%
of all households have toasters,

so try to work a toaster
into your poems.

A toaster?

Exactly People like to read

about things they know,
things they can identify with.

No one likes to read

about places
they've never been

things they've
never seen.

What about
The Wizard of Oz?

I don't know what
he likes to read.

( chuckling )
Now, seriously, you
don't read movies.

Stay with me, bubbie.

The chart tells us that
the two items

most often purchased by people

are the toothbrush
and the comb.

Try to work a few
of them in, too.

Oh, yeah, and make 'em rhyme.

Research shows people
get nervous if a poem
doesn't rhyme.

But you said you like my poems.

Why do you want me
to change them?

Change? Please.

A haircut, a nip,
a tweak, a tuck.

Remember, we want you
to do what you do.

We just want
you to do it

in a completely
different way.

DUCKMAN:
Yippie-yi-ki-yay!

And all because my son's
churning out art for the masses.

It worries me, Duckman.

Ajax could fall victim to that
all-too-common phenomenon

whereby something truly original
is bastardized and homogenized

in a coldly, calculated attempt
to find appeal among the masses,

thus snuffing out
any spark of creativity,

leaving the artist frustrated
and the public deprived.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. You raised
some valid points, Corny.

( cuckooing )

But I know my son,

and I'm sure he's
thrilled with the job.

Machine's hungry, kid.
Got any fresh meat?

"Toaster, toothbrush, comb,
I just want to go home."

Perfect. Hits all the bases.

You like it?

How should I know?

I'm the only one
who's read it.

We'll send it to R&D.

They'll sample it, we'll
get the test results back.

Then I'll tell you
how it made me feel.

Mr. Brittle, I appreciate
everything you've done for me,

but my poems
don't feel like me anymore.

I have to quit.

( laughing )

Quit? You can't quit.
You're irreplaceable.

But that doesn't mean
you can't be replaced.

I made you. I own you.

Before I came along,

you were just another kid
named after a cleanser.

And more important,
I own your family.

Your father signed a contract,
and if you try to break it,

we'll take his home,
his car, his business

and all the pretty things
he's bought with your money.

We'll put your family
in the street.

You'd do that? But why?

What do you need me for?

You could do this.

Probably. Anyone can write.

Unfortunately, I have
proxiglossoriasis--
a rare disease

where occasionally
instead of the word
I mean to say,

I'd say the next word
in the dictionary.

Now you keep writing,

or you and your
whole family

are going to be in
big, big trough.

I can't get my family

in big, big trough.

( yelling )

( burps )

Phew! ( sighs )

Got to stop those late-night
butter brickle knishes.

Maybe a bromo
and a falafel would help.

( kissing )

"Warm hugs
straightened my ear muffs

And got me through
metal detector mornings."

Ajax. Son.

Are you okay?

I was just wondering--

is what I'm doing making
you and the family happy?

Are you kidding? Thanks
to you and your poetry,

we got more stuff now
than we could shake a spear at.

( sighing )

Huh. Something is wrong,
isn't it, son?

Is it the job?

Isn't it everything
you wanted it to be?

Well, no.

No? Why didn't you
tell me sooner?

I'm your dad. I want to know
these things so I can fix them.

You can fix this?

Of course I can.

It's no good
if you're not happy.

Thanks, Dad.

I should have known
you'd help me.

Don't give it
another thought, son.

I know exactly
what needs to be done.

First thing tomorrow,

I'm going to march
into Barry's office

and demand that
he does the right thing.

Trust me.

The boy isn't getting
what he wants out of this job.

And as his father,

I've come down here to tell you

there's only one thing to do--

put a big jar of M&Ms
on his desk-- just green ones--

some PEZ dispensers--
assorted characters--
and some pickup sticks.

I don't think so.

Okay. Forget
the pickup sticks.

That was for me.

Barry, baby,
the kid's not happy,

and when he's not happy,
take it from his pappy,

the poems get crappy.

Hey, not bad.

No wonder the kid's
such a natural.

Listen...
Duck-a-Tollah,

getting what you want from a job
is a quaint notion,

but he has to understand
the artistic benefits

of research and development.

Perhaps if you saw
what I'm talking about.

Um, would you turn around?

New sphincter-scan
security device.
( unzips pants )

( moans ) You can
turn back now.

Hey, Bar',
pretty sweet.

Your own hard-
to-get-to rec room

for watching
those special-order videos

without kids walking in
and catching you with your...

Quiet! Have you
no sense of awe?

This is it, where
all is answered

where the divine becomes real.

Down here, you whisper.

( gulps )

In this room, we gather,
collate and track

all the research data.

And over here, the object
of our most devout worship--

a focus group,
made up of ordinary consumers.

( slurping )

( playing random notes )

Interesting cross-section.

No wonder
your products are so good.

Isn't it beautiful?

They're testing
our new line

of short-attention-span
greeting cards.

Mm-hmm.

And these monitors are hooked up
to major trailer parks

around the country.

What better place to learn
what America wants?

( yawning ):
Uh-huh.

Oops. Sorry.

( beeping )

( electrical crackling )

( yelling )

( explosions )

No! What have you done?

Our life blood stopped pumping.

( electrical frizzing )
Wow. Me and supercomputers, huh?

What am I gonna do?

If we don't move ahead
with this project today,

it'll never make the shelves

in time for all those
fabricated special occasions

we managed to establish
as cultural doctrine!

Then approve the project.

You like it, right?

Then it's simple.

Just trust the artist
to have the talent

and emotional connection
with the audience

you must've thought he had
when you hired him.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

I really value your input...

( cuckooing )

But I think
I'll consult... the book.

Hmm... making decisions,
making decisions... aha!

"Rule number one:

"When in doubt, say no,
because if it fails--

and remember, it always could--
it'll be your butt."

I'll do it.

I'll hew to the most
noble tradition

in American corporate life.

I vow from this moment on,

not to say yes to anything
new or original ever again,

meaning this possibly

fresh and imaginative
project is...

histrionic.

Proxiglossoriasis, huh?

Well, that's behind us,
let's get back

to the important stuff--
my son, Ajax.

It's his project that I cancel,
Huh?

and he's gone with it.

( yelling )

( Duckman panting )

Hey, I'm getting better
at tucking and rolling

when I'm thrown out
of buildings.

How will I tell Ajax
I got him fired?

Ajax, I... I got
something to tell you

about what
happened today.

Dad, before you say anything,
I want to thank you.

You said you'd get me out
of that job, and you did.

I did?

I-I-I mean, right,
right, right.

Of course I did.
Like I was saying,

I'm sorry I didn't
lay down the law

with that double-breasted
dimwit earlier.

You're the best dad
in the world.

Thanks, son.

I guess it proves

there's only one thing in life
that's really important.

What's that, dad?

I have no idea, son.

No idea at all.

Maybe we could ask
a focus group.

( both laughing )

"Warm hugs
straightened my ear muffs

"And got me through
metal detector mornings,

"And if never
to be seen again,

You're in my air."

Ah! That's beautiful.

( birds twittering )