Interstate 60 – Movie Quotes

— Fred... Mr. Oliver is a potential fugitive. Lock him up.
— Lock me up?
— Of course. We lawyers have to protect out livelihood.
— Hey, you can't do this to me. I have rights.
— I know you do, sweetie. I'm here to protect them.

— Okay, so if everyone who lives here is a lawyer, how do you live? I mean, who runs the grocery store? Who does your dry-cleaning? Who fixes the shitter when it breaks?
— Well, we all moonlight on the law-related jobs. You know, police, bailiffs, court reporters. But those other, trivial things you mentioned? They're done by people like you awaiting trial. It's the only way they can afford their legal fees.

— I could sue you for that. You just made a defamatory remark about this town. Hey, are you looking at my legs? I could sue you for that too, sexual harassment.
— Is there anything you can't sue me for?
— Hire me. That way, everything between us is subject to attorney-client privilege. I'm $75 an hour. First hour is free.
— Well, at least you know my case. All right, you're hired.

I worked graveyard shift at a grocery warehouse, filling orders for the trucks to take to the various stores in the morning. I liked it for three reasons: I'd gotten the job on my own, it paid enough that I did not have to ask the old man for cash, and it annoyed Daniel that his son was even working at such a low class job.

As I said, it all started on my 22nd birthday, specifically here at my traditional birthday lunch. As always my father had picked the restaurant. Attending were the usual suspects: Sally, who my parents actually liked, maybe even more than I did; my dad, Daniel, attorney-at-law; my mom, Marlene, the attorney's wife; and my sister and best friend, Nancy, put on earth by the grace of God to keep me from going insane.

And it's as good an explanation for all of this as anything else. Now, a lot of stories start in bars, so that's where we're going to start this one. Not because I was there — I wasn't. But because it's a damn good introduction to a very unique... fellow.

Oh, and Dad, that thing? It's crap. You got ripped off. [pointing at a painting on a wall] And it's upside down.

— Yo bitch! I want back my fuckin' cloths, you cocksucker's confiscated. I shouldn't be fuckin' wearin' this, I'm on leash no more. Hey, handsome... What you looking at me like that for?
— I just didn't expect you to talk that way.
— What, something wrong with the way I fuckin' talk?
— No, no, no, no, no, no. I mean, YES. Yes. You make Mike Tyson sound like an Oxford graduate.

I like cigaretts. Package says they cause cancer, and they do.

You need money. She shows up. Coincidence?

The first time, wasn't that great. I'm thinking: This is it? This is what all these songs are written about? I mean, talk about hype. Second time was a little bit better. Third time, now that was a hot time. Forth time, not as good as the third time. But once I've done it enough to have all these expiriences to compare, just drove me nuts.

— Happy birthday son. Your admition to the Bradford Law Fellowship. Just do the interviev next month, on October 15th, and you're in. It's all aranged. By me. And you can take that to the bank.
— Dad, I told you, I wasn't sure yet.
— Well, I can be sure for the both of us.

Get off on... Interstate 60.

No rules, no boundaries.