It seems all the best holiday movies take place in the Midwest - A Christmas Story, Home Alone, and of course Christmas Vacation. Steal some of Clark’s style and have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f’ing Kaye.
Rusty Griswold: Dad, this tree won’t fit in our back yard.
Clark: It’s not going in the yard, Russ. It’s going in the living room.
Clark: Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber. Rusty Griswold: Dad, I think you mean burn rubber and eat my dust. Clark: Whatever, Russ. Whatever.
Ellen: Clark! I don’t want to spend the Holidays dead!
Todd: Hey Griswold. Where do you think you’re gonna put a tree that big? Clark: Bend over and I’ll show you. Todd: You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that Griswold. Clark: I wasn’t talking to you.
“250 strands of lights, 100 individual bulbs per strand for a grand total of 25,000 imported Italian twinkle lights.”
Clark: Oh, I was just smelling – smiling. I was just blouse – browsing. I, uh, heh heh. Well, I guess it just wouldn’t… Oh hee hee, it wouldn’t be the Christmas shopping season if the stores were any less hooter than they – HOTTER than they are. Whew. It is warm in here, isn’t it?
Mary: You have your coat on.
Clark: Yes, oh do I? Yeah, it is a bit nipply out. I mean nippy. What am I saying, nipple?