Original subtitles

Operation Elect Fitz is 24 hours old

and I'm not even on the ballot.

You need to tell Larry that I'm your campaign manager!

I think we can all agree that I am most qualified for the job.

You're not in the computer.

According to this, you don't even exist.

I merely suggested to some people I know at City Hall

that if Fitz was somehow

accidentally deleted from the system,

maybe they'd get a little raise.

You stole that Wurlitzer from my shop!

I want it back!

If you guys had any real claim

to some jukebox you think I have,

you'd have called the cops by now.

Who needs the cops?

I got the gay mafia.

What the fuck are you doing here anyway?

I need my birth certificate - And not the fake one!

I want out of Miami with my Wurlitzer!

Brotherfuckers!

Richard Fitzpatrick makes good on a promise -

any promise -

I have to come down here and see it for myself.

Blah blah, unrequited, blah blah, sign!

Well, congratulations.

No thanks to you.

Prove it.

Maybe later.

Right now I've got an election to win.

[Eastern music blaring]

What is the present if you ignore the past?

I'll tell you what it is.

A fuck of a lot more fun.

Remember that famous story

of the guy who had a blast following tradition

and doing what he was told

every day of his kick-ass life?

The repairs are complete.

Your humble chariot awaits.

If you'd please...

Of course you don't.

Because that guy doesn't exist.

Tradition's for jerk offs.

Brown nosers who let dead people

tell them how to run their shit.

Salam aleikum!

Your sayara is ready.

[whistles]

[laughing]

It's good, right?

Atta boy.

Three more to go.

Is that?

The local Imam?

You bet your ass it is.

And I just sold him this SUV.

What? Gotta celebrate with a new customers.

It's tradition.

[laughs]

[♪]

We need more signs.

We can't afford more signs.

[blows raspberry]

Signage is so two thousand and ten.

[whistles]

The future?

It's in t-shirts.

Huh?

It's like a sign... you can wear.

Want one? I got a thousand.

Tell me you paid for them yourself.

No, Fitzy covered it.

Could have.

Things got kind of hazy after that second eight ball.

It was a victory party.

You haven't won anything yet!

And you can't if your campaign chest is empty.

Hey, one man calls the shots around here.

And his name rhymes with tits.

Fitz!

You're my campaign manager.

Manage to get me some bread.

Fear not. As co-manager-

Ha! Co-manager?

More like assistant tampon.

Mean. And I have a solution.

With my research -

that Dot didn't do -

I found out that over half of the city councillors

are members of Glenn Downs Country Club.

They control local politics.

If we get them on side we'll win.

I hate to rain on Larry's pride parade

but the Glen Downs?

You?

You think I can't hobnob old money?

How should I put this?

You're cotton blend, they're vicuña.

Screw you. And whatever vicuña is.

I agree. With less strong language.

And vicuña is rare, luxury wool.

Huh.

I'll have them eating out of my palm by sundown.

Bullshit.

You don't have a virgin corn hole's chance

in a fag bar.

It's on his tab.

Fuck that and fuck you.

I could charm the shit out of those country club pricks.

Prick charmer, huh? Go ahead.

Tickle their balls with your chin.

Gotta make some sacrifices

if you're getting into politics, right?

You hear that, old man?

It's the end. And it's coming.

Nothing left for you to do

but try to find your glory days

in the bottom of a bottle.

You think you're the only one with plans, kid?

Only thing you ever had was your dealership.

And now you got shit.

I'm gonna get it back.

How you gonna do that?

'Nother round for the has been.

Making big plans is thirsty work.

I'll say hi to the country club for you.

You do that.

You tell 'em Ken Fitzpatrick sends his fondest regards.

If you insist on doing this,

you're going to need some of my beauty queen etiquette

to spit and polish your rough edges.

Sounds like a blowjob.

Thank you for proving my point.

The country club's bylaws

clearly state a strict dress code.

And I don't think we should have

jumped the fence to get in.

Quit being such a little bitch, Larry.

Yeah, Larry.

We must respect their traditions

in order to earn their acceptance.

They're not Indians, ass-magnet.

I gotta take a leak.

No, no!

[grunting]

[relieved groan]

Hey, Freedom 55.

In case you hadn't noticed, this bush is occupied.

In case you hadn't noticed, you're urinating on my ball.

Play through.

Wandering around like this is a common park.

Why the city won't let us

electrify the fence is beyond me.

Cripes, Fitz.

Just introduce yourself, pretend you met somewhere.

You seriously coaching me on a sales job, Red?

All right, let's skip the ass sniffing

and cut to the chase, okay?

I'm the guy who's going to let you electrify this fence

to stop scumbags like me

from pissing all over your back nine.

Coverton's next councilman, Richard Fitzpatrick.

Fitzpatrick?

So you're the young turk

who's shaking up the municipal election.

So, you've heard of me.

In passing.

I can't endorse anyone

who isn't a member of the club.

He'd be happy to join.

Honour to meet you, sir.

Larry. More important than her.

Membership is closed.

But I like the cut of your jib, Fitzpatrick.

I might be able to get the club to open its books.

It won't be easy.

To become part of Glen Downs

is to become part of history.

Richard will do anything.

Well, Richard...

Let's discuss it over a round of golf.

Sure...

Isn't there a rule

that no unmarried women are allowed on the course?

Uh huh...

That's sexist.

Cousin, how many times must I remind you

to shut the door?

Were you born in a barn?

Like you, I was born in a tent.

And this door has been forced open.

[clatter]

Thievery! Cousin, phone the police.

This is my shit!

You sold it to us.

I sold you this joint, not my lucky stapler.

The fuck have you done to the place?

Looks like the goddamned Temple of Doom in there.

Your office is now our prayer room

slash supply closet.

You sick fucks.

No, you are the fuck of sickness!

Qur'an this, assholes.

Okay... that is a phone book.

Good luck calling people.

Please leave or we will have you removed.

You and whose army?

[grunting]

This ain't over, camel dusters!

I'm gonna tear your shit show apart!

It's like a tablecloth date-raped a kilt.

It's not so bad.

So what's your pleasure?

Best ball? Skins? Stroke play?

My kinda club.

Those are golf terms, not coitus.

You do play?

Yeah. Sure.

I've been hitting the skins since I was a kid.

Fine. How 'bout a small wager?

Say ten a hole?

Never say no to easy money.

Good. Ten thousand it is.

No no no no!

Man up, Larry.

I got it... Richard...

Okay, I got this. Richard!

Hey, wait up!

Wait! Richard!

I got this!

Yeah, you try and beat my high score, asshole!

Watch me!

I had it all, kid. Money. Women. Power.

I was a king.

Yeah, and you traded it all for a shiny F.

Been there, man.

Don't touch me, Hippy.

I got no time for your kumbaya bullshit.

Sorry, Mr. F.

Hey is that a coincidence or what?

Ken Fitzpatrick, idiot.

Whoa.

Triple coincidence.

My life's been in the shitter

since I sold out to those chinks.

No shit, dude.

You had a rat tail.

Fuck off and help.

I got to sell a lotta fucking cars

before I kick the bucket.

I gotta get those fucks off my lot.

Yeah.

Go dig up some terrorist shit.

Or plant some.

Oh... Yeah.

Watch and learn.

[whistling through air]

Fuck!

[clatter] Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Richard!

While I support you exercising,

I feel it prudent to point out

that we currently owe sixty thousand dollars.

We need a way out. Break my arm.

I don't owe anything unless I finish the game.

Richard, I could never-Do it!

I'd break both your legs for a nickel.

Come on! Do it! Do it!

[loud cry]

Really?

Had enough?

Just getting started.

I'm only going to end this farce

because you're ruining a perfectly good bunker.

You never had a chance.

Fitzpatricks have been banned

since your father sold me a lemon of a Cadillac in '92.

You and your kind -

keep climbing.

You weasely fuck.

What about the campaign endorsement?

If I were you, I'd worry more

about the sixty thousand you owe me.

Well, that's not fair.

Fuck them.

And fuck my old man for fucking them first.

Rich poncy pricks.

You are rich in Richard

and that's all that matters.

Jesus, ass-buffet, give it a rest, will ya.

What mattered was getting their support, remember?

You should.

It was your idea in the first place.

Didn't know it was ladies night.

You knew I didn't stand a chance

and you let me walk right into that snake pit.

Fucking Van Bulow.

There was nothing wrong with that Cadillac.

Serves you right for trying to suck up.

You can still win them over, Richard.

Screw you for making me listen to your stupid ideas,

and screw you for making me pick up the tab for your mistakes.

What are you doing?

What I should have done in the first place.

I'm doing it my way.

[chanting Fitz]

Fitz!

[chanting Fitz]

Fitz!

[chanting Fitz]

FITZ!

What the hell happened?

Wait.

Let's make this easier - what didn't happen?

Uh, it was gin.

Lots of gin.

And then everything goes kind of foggy.

You seen my car keys?

Uh, no...

Ring-a-ding-ding, Fitzy.

Richard!

For the love of all that is holy.

What have you done?

[crying]

That sure helped, Larry.

Figures he's too much of a pussy

to keep tabs on you like I asked.

Sounds like he got an ass-full too.

Where is he?

Don't know. Don't care.

Where do you think you're going?

The clubhouse. Hair of the dog.

More alcohol. That's exactly what you need.

I just want to make sure

I gave those rich pricks a piece of my mind.

So Reginald Van Bulow will torpedo

your chances in politics?

You need to apologize for whatever you did.

We are in damage control mode.

Listen, Legs.

I'm at my limit for bad advice.

One man steers the S.S. Fitz and that's me.

[singing to himself]

What are you doing, infidel?

Stealing fine-liner pens?

It is worse than camel smuggling!

No! See...

I heard... A noise.

I came in to investigate and found this:

C4, blasting caps, timers...

You ought to be careful with that.

Someone wishes to tar us with the brush of terrorism.

[sniffs] Home.

Someone who is totally not me.

Josh, help us find out who is trying to frame us

and you will reap a great reward.

Like a sammich?

All the sandwiches you can imagine.

I can imagine two sandwiches and a bag of chips.

Deal!

Yes!

[groaning]

Excuse me...

[snoring]

How did you not get arrested?

Not one hundred percent on that.

There you are!

The old prick himself.

Mr. Van Bulow, before you vilify Richard,

I should remind you

that he was drinking at your establishment

so whatever he did

is as much your responsibility as it is his.

I would think twice before you go to the press.

Defamation is a two-way street.

Whoa. Easy, Ginger.

You're right, Ace.

She is a pistol.

Ace?

There's no need to blow this out of proportion.

Sometimes people just say and do things

they don't mean.

Well then those people

should take a page from the book of Fitz.

He's a man of his word.

We do have some unfinished business between us.

Bring it on.

That's what we like about you Ace -

your enthusiasm.

It'll be good to get some fresh blood into this place.

I'll see you at the initiation.

Not if I see you first.

You'll never see me coming.

Fuck me if I'm wrong,

but did he seem happy to see me?

He's screwing with you Fitz.

Or whatever I got up to last night

got me the old money vote.

See? Stick with me, Kid.

Yeah, I'm sure that's it.

You're just oh so charming he overlooked all of this.

If you're going to be annoying like Larry,

at least keep track of my shit the way he does.

Where the fuck are my car keys?

Oh, that's right!

The coat check girl...

Oh, of course.

You remember the hot chick.

Well, everyone's got their priorities.

And some are bigger than others.

That's blood.

Grotty one, have you learned anything?

I'm working on it...

Are those my sandwiches?

Ken hired someone to plant that C4 on you.

And this interloper is...?

Very, very conflicted.

He has a past with Ken,

but you're starting to grow on him.

We must find this treasonous hyena

and castrate him.

No, you don't.

He's just a pawn.

Josh is right.

What matters is why does the Elder Fitzpatrick

engage in such subterfuge.

Apparently, he wants the dealership back.

Selling cars is all he knows.

Even if he got it back, he cannot sell cars.

Our agreement includes a non competition clause.

Fitzpatrick cannot own a dealership.

Any dealership.

Unless he opened it in someone else's name and then...

He has found a loophole.

Cousin.

He must be stopped.

This isn't right.

That's way better.

Richard, if you have coitus

with the virginal coat check girl,

they will kill you.

Tell me you didn't sleep with her.

It doesn't make any sense.

Why does the coat check girl have to be a virgin?

These rich fucks will collect anything:

cars, art, hymens.

If they wanted to kill you, why didn't they kill you last night?

Or an hour ago?

Good question. You stay here and ask.

Let me know how it pans out.

That's far enough, Mr. Fitzpatrick.

There you are. Get him.

- It's time. - Time for what?

Ace, you are a card.

[laughter]

What the fuck!

I can't do this anymore. I'm out.

What the fuck is this shit?

I broke the first rule of the spy game.

I got too close to my target.

I crossed the line with pastrami.

I don't know whose side I'm on anymore, man.

You will stick it out until the end, shit smear,

or I swear to God I will destroy you.

See? It never ends.

You spy on them, they spy on you.

You plant evidence on them

and they suspect you're opening a dealership

in someone else's name.

They think what?

They think you've found some loophole

in your sales contract.

You can't open your own place, but someone else -

like a relative or some shit - can.

You fucking genius.

You're fired.

The sacred talisman of Anzu.

Passed down through our people for centuries.

Anzu is our past and our future.

Anzu grants us youth and vitality.

Wealth, power and 3 under par.

But she requires a tribute

that can only be paid in blood.

You don't need to murder us both, do you?

That would be overkill.

Look Reg, if you're going to snuff me,

at least tell me what the fuck happened last night.

You don't remember tearing our club apart?

Telling us all to eff off?

Saying our traditions were nonsense?

That deep down we all wanted to be you?

Oh good. I did tell you.

And then you deflowered the coat check girl.

She was to be tonight's virgin sacrifice.

I know you fuck up a lot

but this has got to be a personal best.

This is your shitpile, Lady.

"You have to apologize, Fitz."

Me? Coming here was Larry's idea.

"It'll be wonderful, Richard.

"Tradition and...

I'm a loser."

I do not sound like that... Do I?

Richard! You're ok!

You're going to kill Larry?

A virgin's a virgin.

Sacrifice him and all your dreams will come true.

Wealth. Power. Privilege.

Our political endorsement.

Cast off the sins of your degenerate father

and join us...

Sounds like a fair deal.

Richard, I want you to know

that I won't hold it against you.

That's fair.

Seeing as how this is all your fucking fault.

It is my fault.

I've learned my lesson.

And I accept my punishment

for all the horrible things I've done:

like killing that poor titmouse-

Shut up about that fucking bird?

You killed a bird?

Uh huh, forcing you to compromise your values

for political and financial gain.

A compromise that will give you everything you want.

Excuse me!

This is a private conversation!

I have to say, this is very tempting.

You been fucking up my life for a long time, Larry.

Then do it.

My karmic debt must be paid.

If anyone is going to sacrifice me to a pagan god,

I'm glad it's you.

I hope you learn something from this.

[droning chant]

No no no! Not his heart!

When it's a male sacrifice,

we cut off his johnson and feast upon it.

That is the secret of our virility.

Yeah, I'm out.

You all eat penis?

Fucking help me.

Get him!

Tell him to get back, or the bird gets it!

You think you can run?

Get back, you cock-loving motherfuckers!

- Get him! - Nice to meet you!

I don't care about your artificial hips!

Get them!

Run! Get 'em!

- Get in, Larry! - Drive!

[♪]

I need a fucking drink.

Hock this.

Told you I'd get those fuckers to contribute to my campaign.

But that's grand larceny.

Then ransom it back to them and we'll call it a kidnapping.

And piss them off even more?

We saw their little penis party.

They won't do shit.

But-Drop it, Foxley.

You guys do things your way. I'll do them my way.

Or, we could consider this

a cautionary tale against alcohol and philandering.

Maybe sometimes your father does know best.

Fuck that.

My old man's a washed up half-sack.

He's finished.

[distant thunder] You're all going down, fuckers!

[laughs]