Attention. This is your captain.
All male personnel report ta the plate-feminist sensitivity seminar.
That is all.
No, this is your captain, directing all the fly honeys to say, "Oh!"
And that is all.
No, I'm the captain, and you shut up.
- No, I am, and try to make me. - Give me that!
This is crap. Stupid Article 4. Everybody's getting promoted now.
I got five Ph.D.s, and I'm mopping. Don't hear me complaining.
- Because you're an idiot. - Affirmative action or not...
-...you respect the chain of command. - Of course you're on her side.
- I'm not on anybody's-- - You're doing her.
- And it just burns your ass, don't it? - Yes!
- Yes, I am. Give me that! - You give me--
- Oh, you're not qualified to be captain. - Section Ill:
"Nonwhite males of Hispanic origin, to exclude Spaniards, are..."
- Hereby. -"Hair--"
- Hereby. -"Hairaby."
- Hereby. -"Araby"?
Hereby!
- What? - This is crazy!
Well, he is nonwhite.
And all male, baby.
- He can't even read Article 4. - I don't need to read to be captain.
- Roger that. - But we don't need three captains.
- Roger that. - We don't need one.
- Rog-- Hey. - Sparks, shut up.
No, don't shut up, dude.
Everybody, shut up.
Now, where'd you get those cool hats?
Could y'all not argue on the PA?
- It's killing morale around here. - The fly honeys like it.
You being captain is almost as dumb as making a chick captain.
Stormy, not another word out of you.
Period.
Speaking of period...
It was totally worth it.
Captain Murphy, how can you let this happen?
Son, I know it's hard to watch your peers get promoted ahead of you--
Peers? I got five Ph.D.s and a genius grant, okay?
I don't have any peers here.
Well, as a woman, I didn't have it easy like you did.
Thus, my new recombinant technique will allow me to map eukaryotes.
You sure do study a lot.
Yes, ma'am. I'm gonna be a scientist.
- You want another butter sandwich? - No, thank you, ma'am.
All right. Well, my heart exploded.
Grammy?
- I didn't really have it all that easy. - Oh, whatever!
And I'm not starting now.
Go ahead. Take your Article 4 promotions.
I have a little too much self-respect.
Captains.
Better take that mop.
Quinn, wait.
What?
You forget how to salute, sailor?
Damn! No, she didn't!
I beg your pardon?
All the "girl" and "girlfriend" and "What's up, girlfriend?"...
...and "Holler at me, girlfriend"...
...and "Girlfriend, can I have back those rollers you borrowed?" That's all over.
From now on, you call me "ma'am" or "captain."
Oh, I get it.
Pardon me, ma'am.
Okay. Well...
Get back to work.
Shoot. Snatch, you bald-headed, ma'am.
So you need anything?
No. Can't think of anything.
Oh, maybe some tuberculosis medicine.
I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Oddly enough, persons of Asian status don't qualify under Article 4.
- Yes, but why not? - Well, for starters, anime.
Well, everybody else was doing it.
But if you take advantage of Article 4 when others are more qualified--
Who's more qualified? White Debbie?
Well, no, obviously. But--
Look. Any time the government gets involved in something...
...they mess it up way worse than it ever was in the first place.
Exactly. So--
Let's look at the post office. Perfect example.
- What? - The pony express was a model...
...of efficiency. Now, why they gotta mess that up?
- What? - Look here, now.
- It Sparks can get promoted-- - How the hell did he get promoted?
What do you mean, a wheelchair?
What do you call a chair with wheels?
You're just lazy, not disabled.
My legs are limp and dead.
Worthless, dead little noodles.
- Little-- - So...
...you can't feel that.
Feel what? Help!
No, no, no. It's not just anime.
It's also those throwing stars...
...those crazy rave chicks with the big shoes...
...the crazy hair, SARS, giant killer robots, sushi--
But sushi is Japanese. I'm Chinese.
Oh, yeah. That spicy cabbage I freaking hate.
I'm telling you, Deb...
...no sensation whatsoever.
- So you won't mind another one? - Oh, no. Hey.
Knock yourself out.
Why not have the guy with five Ph.D.s mop the floor?
Yeah, hey. Good plan.
Hey. Quinn.
- Hello? - Down here.
Hello, sir.
What's with all the gear?
Well, everybody else is a captain now...
...so they're too busy giving orders to do work.
- Going to hell on hockey skates, huh? - You kidding me?
The vaporators are at 50 percent.
We're leaking radioactive waste, and Pod 6 has got serious problems.
Pod 6.
Oh, hey. You don't have one of those cool hats, do you?
No. Look, that leak's getting--
Damn. Now, okay, listen.
If you, you know, find a hat, hook me up, huh?
- Sure. - Say it, you know...
...fell off the truck or something.
- You get me? - Yes, sir.
- Okay. Right. - Okay.
Well...
-...see you around. - No, no, no.
- I'll be here. - Right.
And give the "five Ph.D." business a rest, huh?
- Nobody likes hubris. - Excuse me?
Have you learned nothing from Icarus, Antigone, Pantheus?
Goodbye, sir.
Don't forget the hat.
Waters, Stormy. You're free to go.
About flicking time.
Hanging out in that big, mobby tour group outside my apartment...
...it's like, "Late for work. Move."
Could you people smoke more?
- Thank you for your time. - You bet.
Hey, a little help?
I'm stuck, you know? Hi.
- Just keep walking, pal. - Yeah, captains only.
- Stupid non-captain jerk. - Stranger to captainhood.
Man without a hat!
Maybe I could transfer to Spacelab.
Hey, dude. Pull up a crate.
Hey, Quinn. Hey, bony macaroni.
What's up, gorgeous?
Oh, I sure hate to see y'all sitting at this shabby little table, sugar.
- I'm a skeleton. - I don't know...
...why you just can't swallow your pride and get an Article 4.
- And I want you to promise me... - Yes, ma'am.
...always earn your own way in life...
...especially if you grow up and work at some place called Sealab, whatever that is.
- Yes, ma'am. - I smell toast.
- Grammy? - You're being evicted.
Well, I've got my reasons.
- God! - What in the world?
Oh, my God. Oh, God.
Sealab.
It is I, Santos, regent supreme of the seven seas.
- My hat will protect me. - You have sullied my watery home...
...with radioactive waste.
For this, your leader shall be punished.
That is one big-ass robot.
Surrender your leader, and the rest shall live.
Do it not, and all shall die...
...in a storm of rage and hellfire.
Who is the leader?
Answer me.
Wait. None of y'all are gonna step up?
Who speaks?
Oh, I do. Me.
And you are the captain?
Nobody else is gonna--? Man
Okay. Yes. I am the captain.
Then steel yourself for the reckoning.
Oh, child! He gonna mess your ass up.
- Yeah. - Enter Santos.
Goodbye, non-captain.
Well, I sure hope y'all are happy with yourselves.
- Yeah, I am. - Oh, yeah, I'm happy.
- I am. - Pretty much.
- I'm a skeleton. - Santos, away!
- Hey, I'm still alive. - You bet your buns you are.
- Captain? - Daiquiri?
- Hi, Quinn. - Alan?
Alan and some of the guys built this in their spare time.
- That's what those meetings were about. - Yeah, we're like:
"Sealab sucks now, so..." You know.
- We thought you'd like to come with us. - Yeah.
We're going to outer space with the fly honeys.
Outer space? What--? What, forever?
No, no, no. Just for the weekend.
Then we're going to Bermuda.
Yeah, but Bermuda kind of sucks.
Yeah. We're gonna bomb it.
Heads up, Kingston.
Don't let this happen to you.
If you or someone you love has been injured by a giant robot...
...you may be entitled to compensation.
Bluster and Dollop sued the robot that smashed me.
He didn't have any money, but I was able to get his energy cubes...
...which, it turns out, are giving me and my dog cancer.
And we'll sue him for that too.
The law offices of Bluster and Dollop. We sue robots.
[ENGLISH]