Following his harsh review of a play, George S. Kaufman relented a bit by adding that perhaps he'd seen it at a disadvantage because when he saw it the curtain was up.                                               

Polly: Jack, darling, you have, like, amazing stamina for a man of your age.

Jack: That’s most flattering, my dear. I thank you. Still, much of the credit belongs to you. You possess remarkable talents.

Molly: What about me, darling? Why do I so often get the impression that I’m merely playing second fiddle in the orchestration of your pleasures?

Polly: Ah…because, like, you are the second fiddle?

Molly: Oh shut up you bitch!

Polly: Bitch!? Jack, did you hear that? She, like, called me a bitch.

Molly: I didn’t like call you are bitch, you addled brained airhead. I most emphatically did call you a bitch.

Jack: Now, now you two adorable felines. Please stop this bickering. You know how it annoys me. I adore the both of you. As I’ve said before, Christ Himself only managed to raise a man from the dead once. You two have raised a man from the dead innumerable times. You’re miracle workers.

Polly: I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Jack darling. Was Christ, you know, like a homo or something?

Jack: Huh?

Polly: Well, you know, did he like sexually arouse that one guy? What was his name…Lecherous?

Jack: Lazarus. The man Christ raised from the dead was named Lazarus.

Polly: Well, whatever. Did Christ, like, fondle the dude?

Molly: Good God, may the saints preserve us. I swear Polly, if free air miles were awarded for brain cells they’d have to toss you out mid-flight between Chicago and Milwaukee.

Jack: (Obviously trying to stifle a laugh.)

Polly: Oh, I see. You think she’s funny, do you Jack?

Jack: Well, actually, she does have a clever sense of humor. You must admit she is funny from time to time.

Polly: Oh yeah, sure, she’s funny…funny looking. You notice how long the nail is on her pinky finger? What’s that all about, Molly? You look like one of them…one of them…what do you call those people from Asia?”

Jack: Asians?

Polly: Well, like duh! Of course I know people from Asia are called Asians. How dumb do you think I am?”

Molly: Ah…

Polly: Oh shut up, Molly. Jack, I don’t mean Asians in general. I’m like trying to say that that silly long nail on her pinky finger reminds me of a certain type of Asian.

Jack: Okay…?

Polly: They come from a really big country in Asia. In fact, I think it’s like the biggest, most humongous country in all of Asia. Maybe, I’m not really positive about this so don’t quote me, but I think it might be the biggest most humongous country in the world. Oh, gag me with a spoon…it’s right on the top, I mean, tip of my…”

Jack: China?

Polly: That’s the joint…China, of course. And the people who come from there are called…wait, wait…don’t tell me.

Molly: I believe they’re generally referred to as Chinamen.

Polly: I said don’t tell me. Didn’t I say that, Jack? And besides, little miss know-it-all, you’re wrong. The people from…from…

Jack: China.

Polly: Right. It’s not cool to call them Chinamen. That’s sexist. There’s like a gazillion people in China. What you think—they’re all men? Men don’t have babies.

Jack: Thank God for small favors.

Molly: So?

Polly: So what about the China women? The people from China should be called Chinese…that’s the word I was trying to come up with.

Jack: Good point, dear.

Molly: It’s just a matter of style, dearie.

Polly: What is?

Molly: The long fingernail.

Jack: Actually, it’s a sign of aristocracy. I like it.

Molly: Thank you.

Polly: A sign of what?

Jack: Aristocracy.

Polly: What’s that?

Molly: Its meaning would be lost on you. Just think of it as a big word—five syllables. Same number of syllables as you have fingers on your hand. Pity you’re so rarely capable of using them all at the same time.

Jack: Molly, please.

Molly: Sorry.