M*A*S*H

This war has definitely lost its allure.

My "sediments" exactly.

If we didn'’t have such a terrific union here,

I'’d put in my two‐week notice.

But I'’m too weak.

My dogs only barked this bad

once before, back in the cavalry.

I got blottoed and did the Charleston with a Shetland pony.

Colonel, don'’t tempt me. I'’m so hungry,

I could eat a horse‐‐ saddle, rider and all.

Which is undoubtedly better than what'’s awaiting us now

in the Mess Tent‐‐

ptomaine au gratin.

Take heart, famished friends.

I brought in after‐surgery snacks.

‐Actual edibles from Peg. ‐Ah, brownies! Dibs! Dibs!

And homemade fruit cocktail for our peach of a colonel.

Ah, sweet cubes of delight.

What else? Pralines!

Ah, pralines!

The South'’s only contribution to civilization.

‐Don'’t be shy, Charles. ‐(shouts)

Hey, Charles, beware the perils of praline.

‐Brilliant, Doctor. ‐Dagnabit!

You two should be ashamed of yourselves.

What'’s next, whoopee cushions on the wheelchairs?

The true cruelty of this lame jest

is that there are no pralines.

‐Did you‐‐ ‐(screams)

All right. Who left the dead minnows in my pocket?

They were alive when I put them there. You'’ve killed them!

‐Et tu, Winchester? ‐Go ahead and laugh, guys.

There are plenty of minnows in the sea.

‐A Houlihan never forgets. ‐"Et three," Margaret?

‐What'’s going on here? ‐'’Tis the season to be silly, Colonel.

‐April one‐eth is at hand. ‐Bushwa!

My Farmer'’s Almanac says it'’s still March.

Oh, but Colonel, I mean,

the festive spirit of April Fool

can scarcely be contained within a mere 24‐hour period.

And there are only a few joking days left.

Okay, okay.

But just include me out. "Understandez" vous?

Colonel, how could you even think it?

‐Your persona is truly hallowed. ‐And don'’t you forget it.

Besides which, I'’ve seen '’em all.

Okay, Sparky, I got it.

Ah, the early bird colonel gets the words.

TWX for you, sir.

‐Surgeon General'’s Office, 8th Army. ‐Thank you.

Sir, I must protest the rash of mindless pranks

being perpetrated around here.

Good morning, Padre. Or should I say "Padress"?

Colonel, there'’s no humor in this.

While I was showering, somebody stole my robe and left me this...

this... house frock!

Better not take it off, Father. You'’ll be a defrocked priest.

Klinger, how would you like to get the last rites... and a few lefts?

Holster thy knuckles, Padre. This, too, shall pass.

It better.

‐(wolf whistles) ‐Oh, shut up!

Now that Gorgeous George is gone, can we get back to‐‐

Holy hemostat!

‐We'’re in for it now. ‐For what, sir?

Colonel Daniel Webster Tucker, lord high executioner

of the surgeon general'’s office,

is coming to observe our medical setup.

Observe doesn'’t sound too scary.

This fella can observe you to smithereens.

From what I hear, he'’s a fire and brimstone doctor

with a three‐second fuse.

A stickler'’s stickler.

Quotes army medical regs by memory

especially the part on courts‐martial.

Uh, sir, about that three‐day pass I just decided to ask for.

Nix on passes.

This is an A‐1, four‐alarm,

red, white and blue alert.

Allah be praised I was too stupid to get into med school.

Yeah, well, you got enough smarts to shape up these files.

He'’s gonna examine everything from "A" to "Z" and then some.

And medical supplies.

Order everything you can order, including order forms.

But, sir, I'’m already drowning in paperwork.

Well, hold onto your honker and tread water if you have to,

just do it!

Let'’s go! Let'’s go!

‐Mayday! Mayday! ‐Hey.

Big meeting in the colonel'’s office. Everybody up.

Somebody kill that man, quietly.

I got a million other things to do.

Come on. Let'’s go. Let'’s get up.

All right. But only long enough to push your ears together.

Klinger, did you see anybody else lurking around here earlier?

No. Oh, yeah! I think I saw Major Houlihan leaving. Why?

Because there'’s something besides my foot in my boot.

And from the size of the lumps, I'’d say it was oatmeal.

Word is, this Tucker hombre

is tougher than beef jerky and harder to swallow.

We'’re talking about a man who picks his teeth with a rusty nail.

So, for the sake of me and my eagles

which I worked so hard to get

there will be no, I repeat, nada in the way of larks

antics or shenanigans while he'’s here.

‐Got it? ‐Got it.

Loud and‐or clear, sir.

‐Pierce? ‐Thanks for the room service, Margaret.

I always did like breakfast in boot.

I have absolutely no idea what you'’re talking about.

‐Don'’t worry about me, sir. ‐I owe you one.

Wait a minute. Pierce, are you "deef"?

I'’m giving your hijinks the heave‐ho, post haste.

I'’m the boss here! I can do that!

‐I heard you, Colonel. ‐And?

And I'’ll follow your instructions to the letter.

Fine, fine. I knew you wouldn'’t let your revered leader down.

But just in case, check your joy buzzers at the door.

Dismissed.

‐She who laughs last‐‐ ‐Yeah.

I'’m gonna get her.

Pierce, you are "deef." Didn'’t you hear what Potter said?

All he said was no jokes while Tucker'’s here.

Well, Tucker'’s not here yet,

so how long you think it would take us to

fire Margaret out of a canon?

‐(chuckling) ‐That'’s such a good idea.

‐What? What? ‐Uh, no more.

I don'’t want to get Potter in hot water.

‐What? ‐No more.

Pierce, let'’s call a temporary cease prank.

Oh, so I'’m on my own, huh?

No help will be forthcoming from the guy who had "Kilroy"

painted on his head while he slept.

Or the fire breathing fellow

who found Tabasco in his mouthwash.

All courtesy of Margaret the menace.

Maybe one more.

‐(chuckling) ‐Oh, good.

Rizzo.

Rizzo.

Wake up, Rizzo.

Why? Is it lunch time?

‐Good, I could use a break. ‐No, no, no.

Unfortunately, some colonel'’s coming to look us over,

so I'’ll need your help in post‐op.

Post‐op? Great.

They got real beds over there.

Boy, nothing gets to you, does it?

Why should it?

I got a good life.

Room, board, 16 hours of sleep a day.

But this place stinks.

Hey, Klinger, you got it all wrong.

Step into my office, son.

Look, the Army is a breeze...

once you get the hang of the Luther Rizzo

secret of military success.

What is it?

‐Never smile. ‐Huh?

The Army hates to see a man grin.

It makes '’em think they'’ve failed somehow.

But moan and groan and carry on,

they'’ll leave you all to your lonesome.

Long as they know you'’re miserable, they'’re happy.

‐You'’re kidding. ‐If I'’m lyin'’, I'’m dyin'’.

You can do anything you want in the Army.

Just act like you don'’t want to do it.

I'’m livin'’ proof.

Hey, play your cards right,

and some day, Klinger,

all this can be yours.

‐That'’s it. ‐What?

‐Reverse psychology. ‐Huh?

‐The army always does the opposite. ‐That'’s it!

If a guy wants out, he should act like he wants to stay in.

Yeah! Want out?

Is your hat on too tight?

Where else can you be a bum and get paid for it?

‐I'’ve been doing it all wrong. ‐Yeah.

‐I'’ll be the world'’s greatest soldier. ‐Right.

‐Make '’em think I love the Army. ‐Right.

Then, and only then, I'’ll pull the old switcheroo.

‐All right! ‐Rizzo, you'’re a genius!

‐I know, I know. ‐Listen, you stay here.

I'’ll get somebody else to help in post‐op.

Good. And have '’em send me over a pillow, huh?

Those weasels! Oh!

Oh, this time, they'’ve gone too far!

Just‐‐Pierce, get up, you tent napper!

‐(screams) ‐(laughing)

Good, Margaret. Very good.

‐Where is my tent? ‐We pitched it somewhere.

‐You crumbs! You crumbs! ‐Margaret!

‐Where is my tent? ‐We gave it to a dog.

‐Now it'’s a pup tent. ‐You idiot!

Ah, don'’t hit a pillow when it'’s down!

‐What'’s going on here? ‐Uh‐‐

‐These crumbs stole my tent. ‐Now, Margaret, let'’s try to be accurate.

I'’m the only crumb here. He'’s a schmo, and he'’s an idiot.

‐No, he'’s the idiot, and he'’s the schmo. ‐This is disgraceful.