All language subtitles for Dream On (1990) S05E11.en

That's for me.

Hold on.

G'day,
if you're calling about
the senior editor position,

leave your vitals
at the tweedle.

That voice is very familiar.

Gibby, what the hell
is going on here?

It's my latest
business venture, Marty.

- Interactive pornography.
- What?

Now, I know
what you're thinking.

Pornography
is by nature interactive,

but this is very high tech.

Little tellies
with built-in

you can actually stick
your Johnny into.

- Brave new world, eh, Marty?
- Forget that.

What's the deal with this ad?

Oh, well,
while I'm building brothels

along the information
superhighway,

someone's gotta pick up
the slack around here.

Gibby, how could you
not consider me?

I've slaved away here
for 12 years
in the same crummy office.

I've taken all kinds of abuse.
I've never once complained.

Hardly a profile
of leadership, Marty.

I'm looking
for someone with vision.

Fresh ideas. Self-esteem.

I'm full of that stuff.

You know, I'm a team player.
I'm good with people.

Pour it on him, boy.
Pour it on him.

And vision, I've got vision
coming out of my ears.

In fact, in my office,
I've got a file bulging

with visionary bestsellers
I've been saving
for tomorrow's meeting.

All right, stop whining like
a three-legged dingo, Marty.

- I'll consider you.
- Thank you.

Thank you, Gibby,
you won't be disappointed.

Well, if I am, I can always
turn to Compu-Connie here

for a bit of a pick-me-up.

Listen, listen.

Gibby Fiske.

Oh, your dick
is the biggest.

Yeah, that's, uh--
that's-- Okay.

Toby, where the hell
have you been?

Oh, here and there.

I hope you don't think
I'm gonna clean this up.

It is 3:15.

I have wasted half the day

trying to figure out
your goddamn filing system.

There's your first mistake.
There is no system.

I am completely
surrounded by incompetence.

- Where is my buried
treasure file?
- Your what?

My ideas for when I start
my own publishing company.

You know. Come on.
Where are they?

Oh, I threw them out.

You-- You threw out
the buried treasure?

Hey, you want to split a pizza?

You threw out
the buried treasure?

We were short on space.

It was either your ideas
or the Sweet'N Low.

We use the Sweet'N Low
every day.

Toby, I have to give
a presentation tomorrow.

What am I gonna present now?
The Sweet'N Low?

Look, because I like you,
I'll save your butt.

I've been jotting down
a bunch of book ideas,

which are yours for the low,
low price of for free.

The Ugliest People In History?
The Pop-up Pope Book?

That one's my favorite.

You know how you can
never tell the Popes apart.

They're all named Paul something
and wear big, funny hats?

Well, this way
you can learn their faces.

If you weren't
a low, moronic animal,

I'd punch you right in the nose.

What am I gonna do
with this garbage?

You really fucked up
this time, Toby.

Oh, like your ideas
were so terrific?

You know, my cat
buries stuff in a litter box,

but that don't make it treasure.

I swear to God,
I am this close to--

To what? What are you gonna do?

- Fire!
- Take some extreme
disciplinary measures.

Like what?
Suspend my coffee privileges?

Whoa, I'm shaking
like a Jello salad.

Fire! Fire!

I'm warning you, Toby.
Do not push me.

Oh, what are you gonna do?
Fire me?

I'd like to see you try.

- Well, what are you waiting for?
- Okay, you're fired.

You can do that?

I should have done it
a long, long time ago.

I'm sick of doing
my job and yours.

If it weren't for you,
I'd already be running
this place.

So clean out your desk

and go ruin
someone else's career.

I might just do that.

Ow.

One of the finest pieces of work
you ever turned out.

Morning, everyone.
Gibby, as promised.

Carter, take one,
pass them down.

- They're suitable for framing.
- Yeah, hold on.

Before the Great Martini
shoots himself out of a cannon.

Like you to meet
our new associate editor.

Please give
a warm hidey-ho to...

the latest worker bee
in the Whitestone hive.

Miss Toby Pedalbee.

This is gonna be real cozy.

Morning, Martin.

I believe you know Gary Cooper.

Gibby, can I talk
to you for a-- a minute?

Oh, if you must.

Everyone, diddle yourselves
for a skitch.

Be right back.

Gibby, what the hell
is going on here?

I just fired her.
How can you make her an editor?

It turns out
our little druid's got
some boffo ideas.

I'm particularly keen
on this Pop-up Pope Book.

What? Why?

You know Catholics,
they'd buy cow pies

if you stamp
the Pope's face on them.

Gibby, there's one thing
you're forgetting about Toby.
She's an idiot.

So are most
of our customers, Marty.

That's why
she's so valuable to us.

She's got her stubby little
fingers on the pulse of America.

- But--
- I've budgeted five minutes
for your little show

in total, you've already
used up two of them,
tick tock, tick tock.

And so, these ten bestsellers
like rockets on a launching pad

will blast us
into a profitable future.

Thank you.

So, anyone have any comments?

I must say,
much to my astonishment,

makes quite a bit of sense.

Martin, I love the whole
part about the rockets.

If you get that promotion,

I hope you'll remember
that I said so.

Why don't you
just write him a memo?

On his butt. With your tongue.

Thank you, everyone.

I'd be happy to field
any questions anyone might have.

Since you asked, I have one,

why would anyone want
to buy any of these books?

Maybe you could be
a little more specific.

Sure. They all stink.

Like the first one,
When The Fans Go Home,

baseball players'
second careers?

Pee-yew.

You don't know
what you're talking about.

This is a gem.

This is a portrait of--
of human resiliency.

It's depressing is what it is.

Who the hell wants to read that
Ron Swoboda weighs 300 pounds

and owns
a beer distributorship?

Maybe about
50 million baseball fans,

you know, like me
and Gibby and Carter.

Actually, I think
Toby raises a good point.

The books are [indistinct].

You're right.
And your point about Toby's
point is very well taken, sir.

Gibby, don't listen to her.

She doesn't know anything
about marketing or publishing

or even reading,
say the alphabet.

I dare you, come on,
without the song.

Here's what I do know.

People like gimmicks and they
like to read on the can,

which brings me to my next idea.

Books on toilet paper.

Right. Right.

What authors are going
to let people wipe themselves

on their life's work?

Dead ones
like Dickens and, uh, Mozart

and the beauty is
you don't even have to pay them.

I'm afraid
I've got a problem with this.

I should certainly hope so.

Say you share a bathroom.

Now in the morning,
Oliver Twist is in
the orphanage.

When you come home at night
suddenly he's traipsing

- around London
with that pickpocket fellow.
- Two words.

His and her dispensers.

Ka-ching, ka-ching.

- Toby, you are a genius.
- Thank you.

And you know
what the best part is?

I offered all my ideas to Martin
and he turned them down.

He, who last laughs,
laughs last.

These last two weeks
have been a living hell.

I mean everything
Toby says, Gibby buys.

You know, Great Guys' Butts,

The Encyclopedia
of License Plates.

If I don't do something soon,
I'm going to be staring

at Toby's signature
at the bottom of my paycheck.
You know, a big crayon X.

You know what your problem is?

- You're a good man.
- You're an idiot.

I'm the idiot? Why?

Why?
Because I have some integrity?

Exactly. Look at you.

You're almost 40 years old.
You're going nowhere fast.

It's time to sell out.
Look at me.

No one has
less integrity than me.

I make six figures

and they gave me
this really cool warm-up suit.

- Huh?
- Do you believe him?

Well, you know,
he does make a valid point.

What?

You're going clean nutty
like the rest of them.

Martin, this is the real world
and if you want to be successful

then sometimes you have
to make compromises.

I mean, everybody does it.

Even Richard did.

- Really?
- Well, sure.

I mean, what do you think,
he wanted to be a Pepper?

But that planeload of soda made
a lot of kids smile in Cambodia.

I would have been a Pepper.
They never asked.

All I'm saying is sometimes
the end justifies the means.

So you've got
to make the choice.

Don't you do it.
Don't you do it.

I forbid you going crazy.
It's mad.

Go to it, pal.

We'll have loads of laughs.
We'll kill the people.

Fuck integrity.

They want stupid. They got it.

And believe me,
I can be as stupid as anyone

when I put my mind to it.

And George Washington
looks up at his father

with dewy eyes and says,

"I cannot tell a lie.

I fucked her.

That's why there's
no cherry there anymore."

Pretty great, huh?

- Gee, Vernon, that's...
- Dog food.

...an interesting twist.

But, uh...

I'm looking for a big idea.

You know,
something with mass appeal.

Maybe a book that can be
used as something else.

You know, like Dickens
on toilet paper.

I got it.

The book I just pitched you
on Kleenex.

Pretty great, huh?

Why, this man is dead
from his neck up.

Look, we had a deal.

I need a Pope book.

And if you don't write it,
you're going to rot in hell.

Oh, oh, yeah?

Well, forget about
seeing me at mass, Father.

Writers. Writers.

Okay, Marty.

You want a book
that's two things at once?

How about a pocket book

that when you open it,
plays show tunes about money?

I don't get it.

You know,
show tunes about money.

♪ If I were a rich man ♪

♪ Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da ♪

Or...

♪ We're in the money ♪

♪ Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da-da ♪

Or...

♪ Money makes
The world go around ♪

♪ Ba-da-da-da-da-da... ♪

I get the show tunes, Libby.
Where's the book part?

Pocket-book.

Pocket-book.

What's the problem?

The pure case of mentalitis.

Ma, you want to write a book?
It's easy.

Just think of it
like a long ransom note.

Only about the Popes.

Just write some names,
birthdays, turn-ons, turn-offs.

Great.

I need it in a half hour.

Hello? Hello?

So how's the Pope book
coming along?

- Any white smoke billowing
from the chimney?
- Oh, yeah. Lots.

Splendid.

Now work
the Toby magic on these,
I need them by Monday.

What about the weekend?

Even better. Saturday it is.

Marty.

Marty, I was walking down
42nd Street and it came to me.

The Nudie Bible.

Girls of the Old Testament.

You could use it for two things,

to bring yourself closer
to God and to whack off.

Pretty great, huh?

Now we'll see who laughs last.

Martin, can I talk to you
for a minute?

Not now, Tobey.
I have a presentation to make.

One question. Editor to editor.

- What?
- How do you edit?

I'm just curious.
I want to compare styles.

Why ask me? You're the genius.
I'm just some schmuck.

Getting rid of her
is the greatest thing

that's ever happened to you.

All right, all right.
Let's get started, children.

Since Tobey is out
ensuring Whitestone's future,

it's just the deadwood today.

Which leads me to Marty.

Now I give you what you want.

Thank you, Gibby.

What would you say if I told you

we could publish a book that has
already sold a billion copies

and is guaranteed
to sell a billion more?

Ooh, my ears await your lips.

It's got everything.
It's got sex.

It's got violence.
It's got sin on every page.

And now it's got pictures.

That's right.

The greatest story
ever told just got better.

I give you The Nude Testament.

The first adult Bible.

Adam and Eve.

Got them in the palm of my hand.

Samson and Delilah.

These are just mock-ups,
of course.

We'll have
the color photos later.

And for Sodom and Gomorrah,
a centerfold.

Hmm.

Well, you've done
such a good job,

I think you're entitled
to a bonus.

No. Got anything else?

What-- What do you mean
anything else?

- This is gold.
- Martin, it's indecent.

It's vulgar. It's blasphemous.

Which wouldn't be a problem
if it weren't so stupid.

But stupid is good.
I mean, you love stupid.

I love stupid that sells.
Who's going to buy this?

Christians seeking
eternal damnation?

Heterosexual priests? Who?

Lots of people.
I don't get it.

Why is this any more stupid
than Toby's Pop-up Pope Book?

Because in Toby's book,
it's the John Pauls that pop up,
not their Peters.

Good point, sir.

I was about to say
the same thing.

Really shame on you, Martin.

Shame on you.

You should be flogged for this.

I used to think
you had integrity.

I have compromised
everything I believe in

to bring you the biggest
piece of shit I could think of.

And you don't even
have the decency to buy it?

Don't talk to me
about integrity.

All right, Carter, you're next.

That's the last straw.

I wash my hands
of the whole business.

Martin! Come quick, it's Toby.

Get out of here.
She's on her own.

She's going to kill herself.

And you're the only one
she'll talk to.

Let me think that one
over for a day or so.
Will you, Al?

Come on.

Toby! Toby!

Toby! Toby!
For God's sakes, don't...

eat lunch?

She's allergic to shellfish.

One bite, her head
will swell up 'til it explodes.

Don't let her do it, Marty.
My insurance will go higher

than a giraffe's dongle
in springtime.

Toby! Toby!

Toby, put down the lobster.

No. Life isn't worth living.

The other day,
I didn't get home 'til 6:15.

And when I was watching
Wheel of Fortune,

I started thinking about work.

I don't know
what's happened to me.

I turned into you.

Flatterer.

Toby, Toby, you've got
a lot to live for.

You know, you've got
your family and...

and your cat.

And the deadline
on the Pop-up Popes.

There's no pop. There's no Pope.

There's no nothing.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I can't take this job anymore!

Marty, I've got to deliver
this book in a week.

I'm hemorrhaging money here.

Oh, I waited a long time
for this moment, [indistinct],

and I got you good.

Gibby, we've got to talk.

Toby, Toby, don't--
don't do anything.

Just eat some crackers
for a minute.

Look out. Look out.

I can finish her book for you.

I've got an author
who's perfect for it

and a printer
in Jersey owes me a favor.

You can have it by Friday.
Bless you, Marty.

You're like a shot of penicillin
after a week in Bangkok.

I'm not gonna do it for nothing.
Look, I'm the best editor
you've got.

I deserve that promotion.

Have you no decency?

Trying to cash in
on poor Toby's misfortune.

Martin, quick.
She's dipping
in the drawn butter.

You want me to save your ass,
you're going to have
to kiss mine.

Hmm, well,
looks like you've got me

by the short and curlies.

All right,
you're a senior editor.

I'm not finished.

I want a 25% raise,
a new office,

and two more weeks of vacation.

Ah, on second thought,
you're fired.

Ah, forget the last part.
I'll just take the promotion.

Well played, Marty.

Toby! Toby! Toby! Toby!
I talked to Gibby.

Everything's
taken care of, okay?

I made the book go away.

- Go away.
- Back to the nest, chickies.

If you need me,
I'll be joyriding along

the information superhighway.
Clever lad.

- You see, everything's terrific.
- It's not terrific.

The book may be gone,
but I'm still in hell.

It's all your fault.

If only you would have
taken my ideas.

Whenever praise is deserved,
give it.

Okay, maybe I should
have listened to you.

Toby, maybe your ideas
aren't so bad.

- You know, next time.
- No next time.

I don't want to have
another idea as long as I live.

Ideas are
the devil's jungle gym.

- So what do you want?
- A life.

I want to be able
to sit around and do nothing

and talk on the phone
and shop whenever I want.

- You want your old job back?
- Exactly.

I don't know, Toby. I--

Speak that magic word of good
leadership whenever you can.

Okay. Okay.

Okay. Okay, Toby.

But this time,
things have to be different.

Absolutely.

From now on,
I'm going to be there for you.

Just think of me
as the right hand you never had.

Now you're talking.

Now take that bib off
and let's get to work.

- We're way behind. Come on.
- You're telling me.

I've got a stack of Days
of Our Lives to catch up on.

See you Wednesday.

Nice going.

Congratulations.

Now what your exact title is,
I, of course, don't know.