Original subtitles

Previously on House of Lies:

Viva Las Vegas, baby!

You know you've been banned from all betting areas? You need to leave.

JEANNIE: Marty's b-school friend, Tamara.

Well, if you've been doing reading, then I'll shut up.

Uh, would you? Because that would be great.

Dushkin! (hollers)

So, you're in town consulting with Pincus, right?

We're gonna build a better goddamn casino.

Our guy in Washington...

that the restrictions to online gambling

are about to go bye-bye.

Thanks, but no, thanks.

She blew the deal

and showed up to the fucking party?

Cat claw noise.

What do you propose we do now?

My dude Carlson is the new king of Vegas.

Look, I'm not implying that you guys don't know Carlson.

We're seriously tight.

Carlson, Carlson.

(choral music playing)

* Turn on the record player...

Can I just say, uh, you really look like a dick.

Huh? No.

Come on, let's be fair.

Would you stop pushing? Let's be fair.

* True as the stardust in your eyes... *

Wait, let me fix that.

You look like a dick with a mustache.

DOUG: Ha, ha. And a hat.

Ooh, Tamara.

All right, let's keep it down, all right?

It's working, isn't it?

I haven't been thrown out yet, so...

Guggenheim.

What? No, not Doug Guggenheim.

You say your name is Guggenheim all the time.

Would you shut up, Clyde? God. You brag about it.

* True as the stardust in your eyes... *

Oh, my God, that was a close one, huh, boss?

Don't call me boss. Huh? Why not?

I mean, well, with this new promotion,

you are now technically my boss.

The promotion was horseshit.

It is not. I was always your boss.

Okay, boss, you got it.

It doesn't even matter, my friends.

Will you please stop pushing me?

...because it is Marty and I

on a man date with

the Douchebag Twins

tonight. Let's break this down.

You need Marty, the big dog, to impress them

with his bespoke suits and his fancy ideas,

and they need to-- I don't know--

relate to someone on more of a douchebag level,

so who could we get?

It's so sad the way you try to besmirch my accomplishments.

So sad you consider this an accomplishment.

Girls, you're both pretty.

Marty, I'm gonna fucking kill him one of these days,

I swear to God. Do whatever you want,

but shut the fuck up. You're getting on my nerves.

* So let's go home.

You're getting pretty good.

Thank you.

I have a ways to go

before I catch up with you, though.

No, but then you'd have to fire me.

Ha ha, never.

MONICA: Thank you.

Roscoe, you need to come and finish your crepe.

How about a shot of wheat grass?

ROSCOE (in distance): No. MONICA: Okay.

Roscoe, did you borrow my Cle de Peau liner?

No.

Roscoe?

ROSCOE: I'm getting dressed.

*

MONICA: Hmm.

So, that looks like it might be my liner.

Well, maybe if you didn't buy me that shit from Rite Aid.

Hey, hey, hey.

Thanks, Grandpa.

I'm sorry, Grandpa.

We need to check the language at the door.

And next time, just ask.

If you want to talk about your makeup needs, we can do that.

We can do that tonight.

Fine, I'll return your Cle de Peau liner.

Blend it a little. (laughs)

JEREMIAH: You know,

if you buy him shitty makeup,

then you're really telegraphing

your disapproval of his choice to be gender fluid.

I'm not gonna get into it with you over makeup,

something that you know dick about.

Ah, you know, I've learned a little bit about it

over the last few years.

Well, I know more, and you're not his parent,

so if you could just shut the fuck up

while I'm trying to be his parent...

(chuckles) Pardon me if I don't take you seriously.

TESSA: I left my immersion blender in the car.

Okay.

(Monica sighs)

Pardon me if I kick your ass out of my house.

Oh, that would be great for Roscoe.

Yeah, I think it would. You know what?

You put together six months of sobriety...

and I'll vanish. Poof!

(sighs) Who are you, Jeremiah?

I mean, oh, you're like

the fucking morality Nazi or something.

A moral Nazi?

(sighs) (Jeremiah laughs)

You need to read a book.

(sighs) You're a sanctimonious old prick.

And you're a hungry ghost.

(groans) Okay, okay.

Why are you... you're fucking... Damn it!

You fucking provocateur. Okay, what is it?

What is a hungry ghost?

Mm-hmm. So glad you asked.

It's a creature that can't be sated.

Always trying to feed itself,

but its arms are too long to reach its tiny little mouth.

Thank you so much for the bullshit sandwich, but I'm full.

Yeah.

Hey, Grandpa?

Can we go the side way so I can try to ollie that gap?

Yeah.

Hey, let's ollie the gap.

We leave now.

MONICA: Ollie that gap.

Oh, Roscoe. Wheat grass!

No.

It's good for ollieing.

I just want to make sure we have enough time to come back.

Glad you like it.

So, look, I say we get there a little early,

before it's 700 fucking decibels of dubstep.

And before we're absolutely shit-faced.

'Cause that is happening.

Yeah, we're gonna drink beverages. Yeah.

So, look, we're gonna tee ourselves up

with the Douchebag Twins as kingmakers.

You know, show them what we do,

maybe even give them a little entree

into our, uh, online gambling world.

Maybe. Mmm, see how it goes.

Okay. And they're gonna show us

that big-ass billion-dollar Carlson wallet.

(growls)

Why don't we just set up

a meeting with Carlson?

Because he notoriously hates outsiders,

analysts, consultants.

Considers himself-- what'd he say?--

"the ultimate maverick."

Really? Renegade, huh?

Oh, man, I've been there.

Yeah. Yeah, I get the feeling

that Mr. Carlson and Doug the Gugg are,

uh, gonna have a lot in common.

(groans)

You okay?

Want me to get the waiter?

No, I'm really gonna throw up.

Waiter? Don't ever refer

to yourself in the third person.

And never as "Doug the Gugg."

That was a dramatic response.

I disagree. Use it from here on out.

No.

Nobody... Doug the Gugg.

Don't ever fucking change.

Uh-uh.

It's a great nickname.

Okay, so when it's all said and done,

factoring in the after-work,

what are we looking at in fees?

Could be $40 million.

Hmm. Could be 50.

It could be.

Not bad.

And once Julianne Hofschraeger spreads that around,

puts the new Bottega Veneta desk in her office,

there's a decent chunk of change left over

for your bonus, Marty.

Now you're getting it.

I'm sorry, am I the only one that does not understand

why Marty still even talks to her

after she blew the Pincus account?

It's crazy, right?

It's almost like he respects her.

I don't like you. I don't care for you, either.

TAMARA: Oh, Marty, Marty, what was I thinking?

Tamara.

Um, since we both have

the day off, would you like to go to the spa?

Seriously? Yeah.

I mean, we're both women.

We... we work in a primarily male-dominated environment.

And I feel like, you know, we should stick together

and have girl bonding power.

Okay. Let's... let's do it. Thank you.

All right, girl power.

Did I hear something about a spa?

Nobody heard anything about a...? Nope.

No. No, you did not.

Huh.

*

ALEX: We're on our boat off of Cabo,

balls deep, dos chicas,

and genius spots a sea turtle.

And I'm all, "Jump."

And he's like, "No fucking way."

And I'm all, "If you don't fucking jump,

I am going to push you,"

and he's all, "No!"

And the motherfucker pushed me.

Aah!

Ah... Stop playing games. He pushed you in?

In the agua, my friend. Oh, yeah.

Who could see that fucking coming? (groans)

Dude, that's my favorite story you guys tell.

Every time you say it, I'm like, "Ah, this is

the best story I've heard in my entire life."

(laughs) Dude, you know us. We're always pushing

the fucking envelope and shit. Am I right, bro?

100% right, bro. That's what we're all about.

Check it. Yeah.

Yo, Amber! Yeah?

Bring out the AKs.

CLYDE: Oh...

Holy shit.

You girls got guns.

Baby doll got weapons, too. (laughs)

(chuckling)

This is some top-secret shit, fellas. Oh.

Now that you've seen it, we may have to kill you.

Whoa. Okay.

Hey, Marty, do me a favor. Say hello to my little friend.

Hey, hello, little friend. (laughs)

Yeah, put your mouth on it. Do what?

Maybe... Do it!

Uh... for real? Yeah, yeah.

Come on, now. All right, go.

(moaning and yelling)

(laughing)

Holy shit, that's strong, that's good.

Yeah, it's sugary.

(laughs) Now do us, bitches.

Yeah, do us, bitches!

You're getting done.

Open your mouth.

(gagging sounds)

(laughing)

Whoo! Awesome, right?

You juggled the balls a little bit there.

KYLE: Guys, these bad boys sell

for 325 bucks a pop.

You get to keep the gun.

Hmm.

Our price? $1.50, all in.

Do you see what I'm trying to tell you, Marty?

Brilliant. These guys are fucking pure genius.

Pure genius. Well, think about that.

That's all profit, guys. That's 100% profit.

But you know what else it makes me think about?

Hmm? What would you say

the hottest club was five years ago?

Uh, ancient history. (laughs)

(laughs) Wait, whoa, whoa.

What about two years ago?

Oh, wait. Um, was it...? Who gives a fuck?

Ah. Okay. No, I get it.

Yeah. So what you're saying is

that your brilliant business model is to pimp out your club

that's gonna be ancient history in two to five years?

Yeah. Marty, we'll be fucking...

You'll be what?

You'll be forgotten right along with it.

Marty, come on. Man.

Hold on, Clyde.

This is a bullshit, accelerated, excess-fueled world

with the half-life of crème fraîche

where nobody can remember

what happened fucking two years ago, let alone five.

And you two fuckheads are gonna be dead as dinosaur shit

unless you start to realize

that the best piece of capital that you possess is you.

Your names.

Your brand.

The Dushkin... Douchebags...

Dushkin Twin brand.

Get your...

You got to stop putting your club's name first.

You want to know why?

'Cause you're the fucking stars.

You're the reason you're netting over $50 million

a year at War.

What? How much? 50 fucking million dollars

a year at War. That's you guys.

Not the mediocre DJs, not the bullshit themes,

not the business partners.

You. It's you.

CLYDE: You guys are the stars.

You got the big swinging dicks.

Why don't you go out

and make a fucking sex tape with Mila Kunis?

Just one? Oh, fuck. There's two of you?

Tag-team that bitch and make two of them.

Time to be loud.

Be the motherfucking product.

Be the money. Listen to me.

Be the brand.

KYLE: Fuck, yeah.

Let's be the fucking brand. Yeah, be the brand.

Be the fucking brand. I want to be in Mila.

Fuck! We're the fucking brand. (whooping)

Dushkins! Go to war!

(whoops) Let's go to war!

Yeah, let's go to war.

Dushkins in the motherfucking house!

Who cares that I was magna cum laude at Columbia, or

the youngest ever consultant... Jeannie?

...accepted into Galweather?

It's not that you're not amazing

and ambitious and talented.

I mean, you are a beautiful girl.

Sensing there's a "but."

I'm already senior to you,

and I'm not threatened by you,

and I'm sorry if you feel threatened by me,

because you don't have to.

I'm not gonna get in your way at Galweather.

Okay. Well, that's... great, I guess.

(sighs) Oh, and,

you know, whatever's going on between you and Marty

is totally between the two of you. I don't really...

There's nothing going on between Marty and I.

Huh. Really.

Okay.

No, like... nada.

Okay. Zero.

Got it.

(sighs)

This is so amazing.

If anything, I would have thought

there was something going on between you and Marty.

Mmm. You know,

that ship sailed a long time ago.

So there was a ship?

Well, it was a little, tiny boat, and it sailed.

Well, I'm guessing Marty fucked it up.

Uh, actually, you know, it was both of us.

We were both

so young and so competitive.

I mean, neither one of us were really ready for... (sighs)

You know what, Jeannie?

Everything turned out exactly the way that it was supposed to.

And you met your husband.

Yes. Kevin. He's amazing.

He's smart. He's funny.

He's... he's an amazing dad.

And I am a lucky girl.

Gosh, how do you do it?

You know, balancing marriage and career and kids?

Well, you do one thing for a while

until the other thing suffers,

and then you swing back and pay attention to the other.

It's the most imperfect system, and unfair,

but honestly, I haven't seen anything else work better.

Mmm.

Well, you make it look easy.

Yeah, well,

it's pretty much always a cluster fuck.

Nothing's ever easy.

You know, maybe if you ever have a family, you'll get it.

Yeah. Maybe I will.

DOUG: Yeah.

Wow.

You know, my-my associates went to a so-called high-end spa.

WOMAN: Yeah?

(laughing): Yeah. High-end.

Oh, please. Why?

Because they-they float a few cucumber slices in their water?

WOMAN: Huh.

You know, a massage should be about the rubbing.

Nothing more. Yeah.

Yeah. Uh-huh.

Just like that.

Yeah, the rubbing.

I think, as a culture, we've-we've forgotten that.

That's sweet.

You know, we should be honoring people like you, a proud--

oh-- wage earner... Mm-hmm.

...plying her trade, charging a fair price

for a damn... good... rubdown.

Oh.

Instead, what do we do?

We judge.

We say, "Well, she can't be a good masseuse

because she works off the Strip."

Mm-hmm.

"She doesn't use scented candles."

Mmm.

"She doesn't sanitize the table."

Prostate?

Yeah.

Oh, it's effective apartheid, if I'm being honest.

Yeah, homey don't play that.

Uh-uh. No, ma'am.

Homey do not.

Okay. (table squeaks)

Oh. (gasps)

Sh...

(oil squishing)

(grunts)

(gasps)

(squeaking)

(inhales)

Mmm. Oh. That was fun tonight.

Yeah.

Some of the girls don't dig it when

I talk about Noam Chomsky.

(laughs)

Yeah, I had a nice time tonight. I...

Mmm.

It's good. Mmm.

I think I should go inside.

Okay.

Yeah. You're not, uh...

You're not inviting me in?

No. (laughs)

I have a son.

Oh. Yeah.

Oh.

Yeah. Well, I guess we could go to my place.

No. No, no, no. I want to go... I wanted to go inside

and just say good night before he went to bed.

Mm-hmm. What about, uh...

Wait, wait. What about, uh, you know, just a little, uh...

relief?

(laughs)

From what? For the...

Like, don't leave me hanging. Right?

What are you talking about? Just get me off somehow, you know?

(laughs) Even if it's just, like, a quick...

quick hand job. Quickie, quick...

Do you remember when I...?

You remember how I said that I had such a good time tonight?

Yeah, yeah. So, look, I'm pretty speedy.

We could just...

That was reflexive, like, "God bless you" when you sneeze.

Oh. Because, truthfully?

Uh-huh. Listening to your fatuous,

boring, hipster-elitist diatribe

against free market capitalism made me want to go

purchase a gun and then put us both out of our misery.

I just got harder.

I love angry chicks.

Well, then, you're gonna love this.

Yeah.

Go fuck yourself.

Fuck. Fucking creep. Gross.

* I was walking home from work... *

What's that?

Check it.

* You just packed your suitcase *

* Dragged it down my...

Dior. Pretty nice.

(Monica scoffs)

No Cle de Peau, but considering the hack job

you do on your eyes. It's the look-du-jour.

(laughs) Okay? But...

I'll take the Dior if that's all you're pimping.

Oh, well, thank you so much for lowering your standards.

I try.

* I thought I knew...

So how was the date?

The date. The date. (door closes)

You would not believe the date.

Too predictably awful.

I think I'm... I'm just gonna retire

from the whole business of dating.

I know who you are.

What?

I see how you parent him.

How you're working so hard

to give him everything he needs.

I mean, with his gender nonconformity,

his school, his diet,

I really see...

* Just kissing on your shoulder... *

What just happened?

Everything.

Uh-oh!

Bah! (whoops)

Yo, yo, yo, yo, check it, check it, check it.

In our world,

broheems, you prove yourself

by how you rage.

You ready to fucking rage?

Is pussy made of fucking pussy?

Huh? Lets rage, motherfuckers!

(whooping and cheering)

*

(hip-hop playing)

(woman's echoing laughter)

*

WOMAN: Whoo!

* My world, my world

* Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay

(echoing laughter) * Come on, I can't stop

WOMAN: No! Come on!

* Na, na, na, na...

(moaning)

Yes! Oh!

Whoa!

Whoo!

*

(Clyde laughing)

CLYDE: Hold up, hold up.

I had sex in my full suit last night.

ALEX: Oh, yeah, you should get that dry-cleaned.

That was an amazing accomplishment.

It's, like, top three of the best things you've ever done.

(laughing)

Hey, so, Marty, what do you mean

when you keep saying we, like, got to be the brand?

MARTY: Oh. Ugh. I'm gonna be honest with you, man.

That was just consultant mambo, man.

We were just bullshitting.

It's what we do. Don't be mad at me.

(laughs) But you guys are the shit, okay?

That's true.

I just want you to jump

on that rocket ship and take it all the way

to Planet Ka-Ching. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

You can't push these guys, man. Let them be.

They're big boys, Clyde.

They can hear a big idea.

But that's a big fucking risk.

That's a huge risk.

Absolutely. And huge risk leads to huge rewards.

Because War is gonna look like

a teeny-tiny, little antiquated

colonial fucking Williamsburg

compared to what's coming down the pipe.

You need to be on that shit.

We're talking $500 million.

These guys do not have that type of money.

Oh, so you're the consultant and the accountant now?

Oh, okay, because I'm Jewish, I'm the fucking accountant? Fuck you, man.

I make one dumb little Sammy Davis Jr. joke,

and now I'm an anti-Semite? Sammy is more Jewish

than he is black.

Oh, you're a racist.

No, you're the racist.

You don't think Jewish people can dance.

KYLE: Whoa...!

Hey! Whoa!

(conversation stops)

Okay. Just for a second, humor me.

Now, let's just say we do have $500 million.

What are you frontin' about?

We're not fronting.

No, no, no, stop.

We signed a confidentiality agreement.

I apologize. We can eat this food...

Oh, fuck that, Clyde! Did your boys

not get you seriously laid last night?

MARTY: I'm saying, man,

why don't you try respecting the fuck-terntity, Clyde.

Tell them. For real?

For real for real.

Social media gaming.

We have exclusive access-- that is

first-right refusal to a Web site

that is gonna fucking rock the fucking world.

Oh, man, it's instant monetization.

(laughing): It's... it's perfection.

It's Facebook while you spend a couple of bucks betting

with your social network. Think about it.

You're alone, by yourself, comfortable, sweat pants,

looking at pics of your family, farting around,

while we bleed you dry with a tiny juice box straw.

Tell them about Caesars. It's legal

overseas already, man. Caesars is

fucking killing it over there. Billions.

Billions. Billions... in revenue.

It's totally untapped.

Yeah, I know. And it'd be awesome if...

If it was legal here.

Oh, exactly, my man.

No. If it was legal in the States, but exactly.

All right.

What the fuck was that?

Oh! You motherfuckers have inside intel, huh?

Can I say we know?

Let's just say maybe we know. Maybe.

It doesn't fucking matter anyway, because...

turns out our guy Pincus is a complete pussy.

He ain't a baller.

He's an asshole. Yep.

We got your back, homey.

Don't know what that means, homey.

It means we got the fucking guy, Clyde.

He is gonna eat this shit up.

He most certainly has the scrilla.

Oh, wait, are you guys talking about Carlson?

What good does that do us?

He's a total inner-circle guy.

We can't even get next to that dude.

Yes, you can.

We'll make the intro.

We'll put the club in the Vibrato, dude.

Just give us a little taste.

Tasty.

(low grunting)

Nummers. Num, num, num, num. Tasty, tasty.

DUSHKIN TWINS: Num, num, num, num, num!

Aah!

I like tastes.

Who doesn't like tastes?

Taste!

* (helicopter blades whirring)

(soft whirring)

Yeah. W...

W...

No, you're talking like you have a bag of dicks in your mouth.

Yeah, well, can you please...

(laughs)

Good, then get to a landline.

(exhales)

Come on. This is your shot.

Oh. Um, all right, well, as you can see from the deal...

Why would you even take

this call on a fucking mobile,

anyway?

Am I so unimportant

that you could just talk on your shitty little iPhone

while I'm tying to do real business?

Go ahead.

Uh, the deal that we are proposing,

as you can see, it's potentially far more

lucrative... Okay, I'm about to put a bullet in this deal.

This deal? It's a little better,

yes, thank you.

Come on, let's go.

(chuckles) This deal is potentially far more lucrative

than, um... we believe exponentially

more lucrative

than your standard brick-and-mortar options.

DOUG: That's right, sir.

Which you've already made extremely profitable.

But the sky is the limit. No, I'm not talking

to you, bag of dicks.

Just hold on a minute. Go ahead.

TAMARA: This is a client base

that is utterly untapped.

CLYDE: Mr. Carlson...

Michael...

Mr. Carlson, we're talking about

an entire gaming audience of potentially

billions of new users.

And the entire country

can't... the entire world can't come to Vegas.

What we're proposing is that... Jeannie.

Just give me a second. This is a good point.

Um, what we're proposing

is that we bring Vegas Jeannie...

to the new...

You think he's listening to you?

He's looking at your tits.

We're out of here. Wait. Come on.

Let's go. Hey, hey, hey.

Okay, you know what?

Fuck off. Okay.

You know what, we're gonna take our show down the road,

but thanks for the undivided attention. Really.

CARLSON: I'm saying okay.

I'm saying yes.

But only on a pay-per basis.

You guys close the deal,

and I'll pay the freight.

Till then, you work on spec.

So I... thank you, I guess.

And you guys are available to me, okay?

I call, you get here on the first-- not the second,

not the third-- flight, you hear me?

Absolutely, sir. And just remember

that I fucking hate you.

I hate consultants.

I hate the way you do business, I hate

what you stand for, I hate your billing practices,

I hate that you ride on the entrepreneurial vision

of people like myself, and if I could do

this deal without you, I would.

And if you guys prove to be anything less

than totally effective, I will do this deal without you,

and you can try to outspend me in a court of law. (pops mouth)

Okay. Okay, and don't

patronize me, motherfucker...

or I will separate you from your balls.

Uh... (chuckles)

you know what, Mike?

We're gonna go make this happen for you, okay?

So why don't you stand down

and let us make you some money.

Okay.

Make me some money.

Good-bye. Bye-bye.

(quietly): You fucking freak.

(clears throat) Well...

hey, you know, at least we got the job.

Shut up, Doug.

Do we celebrate?

Yay! I need a drink.

Uh, correction: I need to drunk.

Uh, yeah, drink till drunk.

I could get with that.

Maybe the Douchebags will hook us up. You know what, guys?

Fuck all this moping, okay?

'Cause we got this motherfucker on the ropes!

All we have to do is wrestle this thing into submission,

and we're gonna be the stuff of legends.

And there's the look. What?

I-I didn't say anything.

Okay, it's not the Holy fucking Grail,

but it's... it's a big win.

It's a win for Galweather. It's a win for me.

It's a win for all of us. Right.

Fuck it, I will drunk to that.

Good. Everybody's getting wasted.

Dougy Doug.

Uh, well, no, actually, not me, guys.

I've already booked another massage,

so, uh, I'll catch up with you.

All right. Yeah.

DOUG (chuckling): All right.

All right, sir,

I'll let you get dressed.

Ooh, no,

no, no, not quite done yet, are we?

I really think we are.

Oh... no,

(singsongy): I don't think so, Pepper.

(whispers): There we go. There.

Sir, I'm calling security.

What? What? No. No.

(alarm blaring) No, no, hold on.

Come on! Whoa!

Oh, it's not necessary.

Come on.

Uh, hold on. Before you poke the finger... point the finger,

I can explain, honestly. No, no, no, no, no.

No, wait, wait! (grunts)

Meow.