[at the supermarket]
Charlie: I can't do this anymore, Alan. I quit.
Alan: You can't quit poverty, Charlie.
Charlie: I want the good stuff! I want cheese that isn't air-dropped into Third World countries! I want ouchless toilet paper! I want vodka that doesn't look like Fred Flintstone would drink it! I want my life back.
Alan: Fine. Then swallow your pride, call Mom, and ask her to lend you some money.
Charlie [opening the bottle of generic vodka]: Yabba-dabba-doo.

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