Here's the name and number of a doctor who will look at it for you. You will receive no bill. He's a good man. And thorough. Nice marmot. You don't go out and make a living dressed like that in the middle of a weekday. Do you have any kalhua? Near the In-and-Out Burger. Nihilists! Jesus. Yes sir. It is our most modestly priced receptacle. Sir, this is a mortuary, not a rental house.

Shomer shabbos. No, the, uh, police chief of Malibu. A real reactionary. Eight-year-olds, Dude. I'm unemployed. Dieter has been on the fringes of —well, of everything in L.A., for about twenty years. Look at my LP's. Under 'Autobahn.'. Another Caucasian, Gary. Yeah man. Well, you know, the Dude abides. Ahh, you know. Strikes and gutters, ups and downs. The nail polish, Walter. A fifteen-year-old? Is this your idea of a joke?

One a those days, huh. Wal, a wiser fella than m'self once said, sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar, wal, he eats you. 1972 Pontiac LeBaron. It increases the chances of conception. Walter, this isn't a First Amendment thing. But that is up to little Larry here. Isn't it, Larry? And I'm talkin' about the Dude here —sometimes there's a man who, wal, he's the man for his time'n place, he fits right in there—and that's the Dude, in Los Angeles.

Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that: Her life is in your hands. They're nihilists. Now this story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early nineties —just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I only mention it 'cause some- times there's a man—I won't say a hee-ro, 'cause what's a hee-ro?—but sometimes there's a man. Our basic freedoms.

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