Tucker: Do you hate the World Bank? Girl: Uhh, umm, well, I mean, yeah, I feel that... Tucker: You don't hate the World Bank. Girl: I don't? Tucker: … - Tucker Max

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Tucker: Do you hate the World Bank?
Girl: Uhh, umm, well, I mean, yeah, I feel that...
Tucker: You don't hate the World Bank.
Girl: I don't?
Tucker: No. You're mad at your father. You just want daddy to hug you more.
Girl: What?
Tucker: You were a sociology major weren't you?
Girl: NO!
Tucker: What was your major?
Girl: [Pauses] Uhhh, English Literature.
Tucker: [Pause--to give her a look of contempt] Did your parents send you a bill for college? How are those Marxist Literary Critique classes working out for you? You work at Barnes and Noble don't you?
Girl: NO--I wor--
Tucker: Shouldn't you be blocking an intersection right now? How many anti-sweatshop petitions have you signed--EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVE REEBOKS ON. Very-anti globalization to wear those with your animal tested Clinque make-up made in Nepal. Well, at least you're consistent in your shameless hypocrisy.
Girl: What a fascist piece of shi--
Tucker: You ever wake up in the middle of the night because a couple of cats are clawing each other to death outside your window? That's what it's like listening to you speak.
Girl: [A mishmash of stammered half insults]
Tucker: Seriously--If I stuck my dick in your mouth would that shut you up?
Girl: Wha...YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE!
Tucker: HEY--Don't blame me for the wound in your crotch. [As I walk off] By the way, you owe us a rib.