Pseudo-New Yorker

Legal humor here.

“Okay, how about arm-wrestling? Perhaps that would assuage your skepticism.”

“Because when I fly cross-country I get covered with bird shit. Unromantic, I know, but it’s the truth.”

“No, I’m not afraid of the FAA, girlfriend, and I’m also not afraid of you.”

“I don’t have to put up with your damn-fool questions because I’m Superman, asshole.”

“It has nothing to do with red kryptonite. I don’t know how the hell these stories get started. I just do it as a courtesy to the FAA, that’s all.”

“‘Great metropolitan newspaper,’ huh? Thirty years of hard work and I’m out on the street without a dime in my pocket. So I had to drop the whole Kent thing. I mean, who can afford to be two people these days?”

“I know switching seats was the deal. But the deal is, that’s not the deal any more. Get it? I like clouds.”

“If we crash, you’ll wish you had been nice to me.”

“Look, these days, I don’t have anything I need to prove to myself. And I also don’t have anything I need to prove to you.”

“I put on my seatbelt because I’m a nice guy, not because I’m a pussy. You really like to live dangerously, don’t you?”