Grand Theft Auto V (2013 Video Game)
Ned Luke: Michael Townley, De Santa
Michael De Santa : You... are a hipster!
Trevor Philips : What?
Michael De Santa : You're a hipster.
Trevor Philips : I hate hipsters.
Michael De Santa : Classic hipster denial.
Trevor Philips : I abhor hipsters. I eat them for fun!
Michael De Santa : Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters.
Trevor Philips : Well, I really fucking do!
Michael De Santa : Self hatred. Common hipster affliction.
Trevor Philips : Only because I'm living out here away from the Bean Machines, and the bankers?
Michael De Santa : You're gentrifying. Soon, the skinny jeans will show up, then the skinny lattes, and then the bankers. And you'll be somewhere else starting the cycle all over again. Maybe you're not a classic garden variety hipster, but you're what the hipsters aspire to be. You, Trevor, are the proto-hipster.
Trevor Philips : I don't know what you're talking about. I don't agree with what you're saying. You're talking bullshit. And you're trying to wind me up. But I'm very, very angry, and I want this conversation to stop right away.
Michael De Santa : Hipster.
Trevor Philips : Fuck you! Fuck you, Michael! Say it again!
Michael De Santa : I've made my point. I'm not a sadist.
Michael De Santa : You forget a thousand things every day, pal. Make sure this is one of 'em.
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : Your son, James. He's a good kid?
Michael De Santa : He's a good kid? A good kid? Why? Does he help the fucking poor? No. He sits on his ass all day, smoking dope and jerking off while he plays that fucking game. If that's our standard for goodness... then no wonder this country's screwed.
Michael De Santa : Why did I move here? I guess it was the weather. Or the... Ah, I don't know, that thing. That magic. You see it in the movies. I wanted to retire. From what I was doing, you know? From that, that... line of work. Be a good guy for once, a family man. So, I bought a big house. Came here, put my feet up, and thought I'd be a dad like all the other dads. My kids, would be like the kids on TV, we play ball and sit in the sun... But well, you know how it is.
Michael De Santa : [during a robbery] Ladies and gentlemen! This is your moment! Please don't make me ruin all the great work your plastic surgeons have been doing!
Michael De Santa : What a shit show. I'll tell you what, you could take this desert, and stick it. My life may be a world of pain, but from here on out it's gonna be cool, comfortable, air-conditioned pain.
Trevor Philips : I asked for a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. Well, he kinda got a little angry. So, I admit, I kinda got a little angry too.
Michael De Santa : Did you kill him?
Trevor Philips : What kinda fucking animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him!
[Michael sighs with relief]
Trevor Philips : But I did kidnap his wife.
Trevor Philips : Is that sarcasm?
Michael De Santa : Oh, you're fucking A-right it's sarcasm! You fuck! A few weeks ago, I was happily retired, sulking by my swimming pool, and my psychotic best friend shows up out of nowhere to torture me over mistakes I made, honest mistakes I made over a decade ago! We, our little posse, are flat fucking broke, but hey, let's go out and spend two million dollars on a tandem rotor fucking chopper, so I can go steal nerve gas from fucking terrorists! Forgive me, you ignorant fuck, but sarcasm is all I've fucking got! Sarcasm, and a room full of you cunts!
Michael De Santa : [Ending A; Trevor burns alive and then perishes in a fiery explosion] You always liked gasoline, Trevor!
Franklin : Man, that was your best fucking friend!
Michael De Santa : [walks away] Fuck you. Aahh! You know what, tough guy? It's... it's time you grow the fuck up.
Michael De Santa : I mean, I admit I'm a bad piece of work. But that guy? That piece of shit! No boundaries. No sense of when to back off. No nothing! Twenty four seven insanity! Day in and day out! All the time! Never regretted nothing. Never cared for nothing. Well, fuck him. I mean... there's gotta be a limit, kid. You know? A point where even assholes like us say enough is e-fucking-nough. Human stew... that's my limit. I know that now.
Franklin : I guess that's that then.
Michael De Santa : I'm rich, I'm miserable - I'm pretty average for this town.
Michael De Santa : You know, I've been in this game for a lot of years and I got out alive. If you want my advice - give the shit up.
Trevor Philips : You're like every other asshole. You made a bit of money, and you became a turd.
Michael De Santa : I've got news for you, I was always a turd.
Trevor Philips : No! You weren't, man, you were something, but now, man, yeah, you're like this place, you're shell.
Michael De Santa : Go fuck yourself. Are you some kind of pure, morally justifiable asshole? What, because you're... You're totally psychotic, somehow it's okay?
Trevor Philips : I'm honest, alright? You're the hypocrite.
Michael De Santa : Oh, yeah, you're a fucking hero. So far above it all.
Trevor Philips : Oh, yeah? Well I'm not above ripping open your fucking chest to see what's replaced your heart!
Michael De Santa : Rip it open, see what's there, baby, 'cause I'm ready!
Michael De Santa : You know, Devin, the way I see it, and hey, I'm no intelligent businessman like you. But the way I see it, there's two great evils that bedevil American capitalism of the kind you practice: Number one is outsourcing. You paid a private company to do your dirty work, and then you under paid that company because you thought you were big enough and bad enough that you didn't have to play by the rules. Oh, number two: off-shoring your profits.
Trevor Philips : Off-shore?
Michael De Santa : Oh, it's horrible. You wouldn't want to be sent off-shore just to save a little money, would you, T?
Trevor Philips : Oh, no, I wouldn't.
Michael De Santa : Franklin?
Franklin : Oh, nah. I ain't goin' nowhere.
Michael De Santa : But we know your opinions on the matter, Devin. Keep your problems the fuck out of America, huh?
Trevor Philips : In this instance, when he puts it like that, it makes sense.
Michael De Santa : Of course it does. Hey, Devin, goodbye, my old friend. Thanks for all the advice.
Franklin : Buh-bye.
Jimmy De Santa : Like, the other day, he posted a picture of his newborn, and I'm all like, "damn, son, that's one ugly-ass motherfucker of a baby. My balls is prettier than that baby," and I sent him a picture of my balls. Then I said, "I've seen roadkiller prettier than that baby. The hell is wrong with your baby?" and he's all like, "there's a problem with its chromosomes and it's actually a miracle it survived birth," and I'm all like, "it's actually a miracle I survived looking at a picture of its ugly..."
Michael De Santa : ENOUGH! Okay? E-fucking-nough!
Michael De Santa : Arrgh!
Franklin : Hey, what's the problem, dog?
Michael De Santa : Steve fucking Haines!
Franklin : Of course it's Steve fucking Haines. It's always Steve Haines.
Lester Crest : That is not strictly true. It's either Steve Haines or it's Trevor, or it's his family. It's always one of them.
Michael De Santa : Yeah, that's true. It is always one of them. I'm a fat old fuck with a horrible family and even worse friends. I told you, Franklin, I ain't a good role model. Period.
Franklin : Yeah, whatever, dog. It's either this or dealing dimebags. The bullets come crackin' at yo ass either way.
Jimmy De Santa : [Michael is sitting on the couch watching a movie while Jimmy is upstairs playing Righteous Slaughter 7] Dude, do you even have a penis? Or are you one of those hermaphro-dudes born without genitals?
[Michael turns up the TV, but can still overhear Jimmy's remarks]
Jimmy De Santa : You suck cock for fun, only secretly, and then you feel bad about it.
Michael De Santa : [turns off TV and marches upstairs] God dammit. Jimmy! God dammit. The fuck you doin'?
Jimmy De Santa : Nothing.
Michael De Santa : Really? Because I keep hearing "hermaphrodite" this and "suck cock" that...
Jimmy De Santa : Go away.
Michael De Santa : What?
Jimmy De Santa : Go watch your linear entertainment. Go watch porn. Just go away.
Michael De Santa : Fuck, you lazy shit.
[picks up chair and smashes TV screen with it]
Michael De Santa : Fuck you!
Jimmy De Santa : What the fuck?
Michael De Santa : Disrespectful little asshole!
Franklin : [they just killed Devin Weston, along with all their other enemies] Now what?
Michael De Santa : Now to keep a low profile and get on with our lives.
Trevor Philips : As friends.
Michael De Santa : What, do I have a choice?
Trevor Philips : No, not really.
Michael De Santa : Alright, then. As flawed, awful, totally uncomfortable, poorly matched friends. Absolutely.
Trevor Philips : Well that's perfect, then we can get back to the kind of capitalism we practice.
Franklin : Shit, I don't know how much more better that is than Devin's kind.
Michael De Santa : Ooh, hypocrisy, Franklin. Civilization's greatest virtue.
Trevor Philips : Jesus, your therapist has a lot to answer for.
Michael De Santa : I know. I still hate myself. But at least I know the words for it now.
Trevor Philips : Yeah, but I hate you and I know the words for it. Does that mean I don't have to go to therapy?
Michael De Santa : [being hit by another driver] I don't like this car!
Michael De Santa : [Lester's factory is devoid of all personnel except for Lester] What's going on?
Lester Crest : Oh, just enjoying a little labor dispute. See, we're about to do something really, really bad, and so I need to present myself as a proper textile magnate. So...
Michael De Santa : So you stopped making anything?
Lester Crest : Nothing looks more suspicious in America than someone who's actually prepared to make something.
Lester Crest : For a couple of mid-west stick-up artists, you guys sure have become a pair of whiny, west coast DOUCHEBAGS!
Franklin : What the fuck is wrong with the west coast?
Lester Crest : Oh, nothing. I love it here. Everyone's so numbed by the sun that if you use a three-syllable word, they think you're a professor.
Franklin : Man, fuck you.
Trevor Philips : [yelling] Yeah, fuck you, you high and mighty weasel! And you don't talk down to these fucking idiots!
Michael De Santa : Hey! Leave Lester alone.
Trevor Philips : Oh, oh you and Lester together? Oh now that makes fucking sense!
Franklin : Oh for fuck's sake, man. You all are assholes. Man, I gotta go calm down, homey. This shit was real illuminating.
Michael De Santa : Franklin, I'm sorry. Come on back, have a beer or something.
Michael De Santa : Back from the dead, motherfucker!
Lester Crest : That little college boy, sack of shit, phony fuck!
Michael De Santa : Who? Jay Norris?
Lester Crest : Yes. That fuck is a lying bastard. I've read his fucking e-mails. He's a fucking cheat.
Michael De Santa : I heard him say he saved America.
Lester Crest : What? By outsourcing all the jobs? By selling us little bits of plastic, restricted access shit? Well, now it's payback time, you lying turd.
Michael De Santa : [about to rob the Paleto Bay bank] We ready for this?
Trevor Philips : I could use a restroom break.
Michael De Santa : And risk getting I.D.'d? You're an idiot.
Trevor Philips : But I gotta go. It's number 2.
Michael De Santa : Well pinch it off.
Trevor Philips : I'll go in the bank. I brought a baggy.
Michael De Santa : Double bag it.
Michael De Santa : Alright... the fuck is this bullshit? We handled your little immigration problem or whatever the fuck it was. We're straight.
Steve Haines : Oh absolutely... yeah, yeah. You killed people, you tortured people, committed a litany of other crimes... Oh we're so straight you and me, we're arrows.
Michael De Santa : My wife got screwed by a yogi. And now I'm getting screwed by a yogi? Fuck that! I'm a producer! Nobody fucks with my film!
Michael De Santa : [waltzes into the apartment] You got another one of those, Harvey?
Harvey Molina : Who are you?
Michael De Santa : A guy with your best interests at heart. I'll fill your pockets with money and all you gotta do is take a little vacation.
Harvey Molina : Hey, I work two jobs, man. I'll take any break I can get.
Michael De Santa : Good.
Harvey Molina : You want the beer?
Michael De Santa : No, just the coveralls. Oh, and your I.D.
Harvey Molina : It's in there.
Michael De Santa : [takes duffle bag] Oh, and Harvey, I probably don't need to say this, but you don't play ball, I'll be forced to do something I really don't wanna do. Enjoy your beer.
Michael De Santa : I just watched Devin Weston's legal counsel get juiced in a jet engine.
Solomon Richards : Oh that Molly woman? Oh lord, that's horrible.
Michael De Santa : You have no idea. She panicked, went crazy and ran into it, but I saved the print so we still got our movie.
Solomon Richards : You believed that analog thing? It's all digital. We have back-ups everywhere. I mean we're shooting on greenscreen.
Michael De Santa : Well you could've told me!
Solomon Richards : I'm sorry, I thought you knew.
Michael De Santa : We're gonna need a crew. I could round up some of the old guys.
Lester Crest : There are no "old guys." Moses, ironically, he found Jesus. All those Irish crazies, they mostly just disappeared. That crew from the south, they all went down. There was... an eastern European guy making moves in Liberty City... nah, he went quiet.
Michael De Santa : Boy, you work hard for your living. Boil it all down for me, how much you think you make per senseless killing? A couple nickels?
Franklin : Look, man, you two motherfuckers terrify me of that middle-age.
Michael De Santa : You're right to be afraid, Franklin.
Franklin : Yeah.
Michael De Santa : [theatrically] Be very afraid, Franklin.
[Franklin rides off on his motorcycle as Michael gets into his car]
Michael De Santa : I'll tell you one thing, T. I'm gettin' too old for this nonsense.
[drives off, as Trevor awkwardly walks out of frame]
Michael De Santa : Fuck you, Dave.
Lamar Davis : [the only occurrence in the game where Michael and Lamar speak to each other; Michael is sitting on a bench at the beach as Franklin and Lamar walk by him] Excuse me, homie, can you tell me where Bertolt Beach House is?
Michael De Santa : No, homie, I cannot.
Franklin : Man, would you come on? Fuck.
Michael De Santa : [stands up] Actually, yeah. That house right there with the yellow stairs.
Lamar Davis : Good lookin' out, homie. Appreciate it.
Dave Norton : [Michael calls Dave after the shootout at the Kortz Center] You made it!
Michael De Santa : I saved you again, Davey. Again! So what are you gonna for me about Steve, the FIB, the IAA and everyone else?
Dave Norton : History is written by the living, okay? We can pin most of it on Agent Sanchez. If I get that story right, then the Agency and Bureau will back off. The problem we need to deal with is Trevor.
Michael De Santa : Trevor? Why?
Dave Norton : Try Merryweather, Chinese gangsters, general insanity and so on. I can spin Steve you're controllable, but not Trevor.
Michael De Santa : Steve?
Dave Norton : He's our wounded hero right now. I've gotta cozy up to him, calm him down.
Michael De Santa : Just get me out!
Dave Norton : Special Agent Norton.
Michael De Santa : Shit. Davey. Shit, he knows. I think he knows.
Dave Norton : What? Who?
Michael De Santa : Think!
Dave Norton : [realizes he's talking about Trevor uncovering their little secret] Shit. Shit! How?
Michael De Santa : I don't know how. He used his head.
Michael De Santa : [stealing a car] Ah, it's insured. Don't be a dick.
Lester Crest : What's the problem, you don't like shooters?
Michael De Santa : They're all the same. Besides, you know me. I'm a movie guy. Classic Vinewood.
Lester Crest : Classic Vinewood ended 30 years ago. Now it's just superheroes, romantic comedies and remakes. None of which interest me.
Michael De Santa : Hey, I believe this country can still make interesting movies. There's no better way to define American life than a two hour plot in which the hero looks good and defeats evil.
Lester Crest : Whatever. Enjoy yesterday.
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : Here, can we just get a quick photo together?
[sits next to Michael and snaps the picture]
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : Cheese.
Michael De Santa : What is this?
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : I really think I can't treat you anymore. The fact is... I'm in love with you.
Michael De Santa : [jumps back] The fuck you talking about, Doc?
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : Okay, I'm just kidding, that's not true. See? You're learning.
Michael De Santa : What's going on?
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : I think you need a new therapist, and, I'm leaving town. I've got a TV show. I'm gonna be famous.
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : I'm gonna be famous! Ha, think of the fucking tail. All those fucking bitches who called me pube head, they'll be lining up to suck it now.
Michael De Santa : [advances menacingly toward Friedlander] You got a TV show? You?
Dr. Isiah Friedlander : [backing toward the door] Uh, best not to think too closely about what I just said. It's not like I'll be using real names. I-I'm really discreet. Bye now.
[leaves office; Michael chases after him]
Fabian Larouche : Amanda, come. I have a new unitard on hold. You must pay for it.
Michael De Santa : Hey, buddy! I'm gonna ask politely that you show my wife a little respect.
Fabian Larouche : Red meat has been blocking your chi, as well as your digestive tract.
Michael De Santa : I ain't even gonna go there. I'm gonna ask you one time. Nicely...
Amanda De Santa : Michael, just hit him. Please!
Michael De Santa : Anything for you, sweetheart.
[grabs a woman's laptop and whacks Fabian over the head with it]
Michael De Santa : [after scoring a point on tennis] Not bad for a fat old fuck.