I know a little about a lot of things. I’m a gunrunner by trade, but, as you can see, I’ve developed a certain niche.
He’s got a hard-on for mass murder and giving kids cancer, and his big old answer to the existential clusterf*** that is humanity, is to nail his own bleeding son to a plank.[about God]
You tell anyone what you saw or heard here today, and I’ll cut your hands off and shove them so far up your ass, your fingers’ll give us a little wave out your throat, yeah?[to Mesmer]
You can’t win the whole country anymore. No one can. So why are you even trying? You don’t need 50 million people to love you. You need 5 million people f***ing pi**ed. Emotion sells, anger sells.[to Homelander]
This is a f***ing mess, son. We got a Supe terrorist, Rayner’s blown her canister, and we’re the most wanted c**ts in the country. But don’t you worry. Daddy’s home.[to Hughie]
So, what if I took you to a house you’d never seen before, full of photos of parents you never met, toys you never played with, Hardy Boy books that you never read? And then I asked you how much all that fake f***ing bulls*** meant to you? How would that make you feel?