All language subtitles for Difficult.People.S03E02_English

You know,
I rarely wait on line

for things that don't have
some kind of frosting.

I know, but this is
supposed to be amazing.

It's David Blaine's
latest magic trick where

he's just gonna kill himself.
How is that magic?

I thought he wasn't
supposed to be

a celebrity anymore.
Whoa. It says on "Deadline"

that Maggie Gyllenhaal
just signed on

for the next sequel
to "Hostel"‐‐

"Clitorectomy:
Third Time's the Harm."

That's a bummer.
She's supposed to be a feminist.

I expected more from her.
It's always sad

when someone sells out
their own people.

Yeah. Like when Elton John
did that thing with Eminem.

And then they sang together.

Ugh! This line
is not moving!

I know, and I have to eat
before my audition.

What's it for again?
I don't know. It's top secret.

The only thing I know
is it's for Amazon,

so I'm gonna bring a blender
I have to return.

Well, if you want,
we can bail.

We can go to that new Cajun
Meatball Poke pop‐up.

Ooh! Elton John's nickname
for Eminem.

[crowd shouting]
Scab, scab!

Oh, another line?
No, that's a picket line.

See, they have a Strike Rat.
"Waiters deserve wages"?

I didn't know waiters
had a union.

I thought it was just SAG.
Well, I'm not joining.

I can't afford to pay
any more stupid dues.

And those SAG screeners
are pathetic.

Big deal‐‐I get a free copy
of "Hacksaw Ridge,"

but I have to see a dentist
in Paramus.

I guess we should find
a restaurant that's open.

Although...technically,
this restaurant is open.

And they could seat us
right away.

Yeah, but if we go in there,
they're gonna boo us.

I've been booed
four times today already.

CROWD: Scab! Scab!

Scab, scab, scab!

Scabs are a sign
of healing, dear.

Scab, scab, scab, scab!

[driving punk rock music]

♪ ♪

I just need you to sign
the nondisclosure forms,

then I'll give you the sides
and we can get started.

Why is Amazon
being so secretive?

Every improviser I know has gone
out for "Mozart in the Jungle."

Oh, I am sure.

That show is real comedy.

Just so you know,

this project
comes from a film director

who is arguably offensive
to women.

Eli Roth?
Close. Jewish also.

But his violence against
women is more...dialogue‐based

and exists more in his
characters'

antiquated attitudes
towards them.

Woody Allen is doing
another Amazon series?

Yes! It's called
"Manhattan Mini Storage,"

and this time we are sure
the Woodster's gonna

"get TV."

I can't, in good conscience,

audition for Woody Allen,

as a woman, you know?
Okay, yeah, sure, sure.

But can I just take
a peek at the sides

to see how bad they are?
Can only show them to you

if you're auditioning.

Fine. I'll audition.
Why not?

I'm not gonna get this part.
I never get any part.

Here you go.
Let me know if you have

any trouble
reading his handwriting.

He doesn't even use
a typewriter?

He says gadgets and doodads
are passing fads

and hurt his flow.

[laughs] Okay.
Got it. Of course.

All right.
"Esther, white female,

over 16, unfuckable."

Any other specifics, or...

She's a cigarette girl.
Uh, here, you can use this prop.

So it's another period piece?
No.

Woody just thinks
cigarette girls still exist

and black people don't.

Whenever you're ready.

[loudly]
"You'll have to speak up

"over this loud
rock and roll music‐‐

"if you can call it music.

Oh, here, Mr. Yellnikoff,
let me light that for you."

Oh, shit!
Oh, crap!

[patting shirt]

[exhales]

[inhales]
I'm okay.

I don't care.
Please go.

But not before you
check off a reason

why you're returning
this blender.

♪ ♪

It's time to update
the cafe's website.

Our site is so out of date,
we still have pics

of when we served cereal
at breakfast.

And Billy was still
scruff‐free thin.

Oh, Matthew, if only you'd
been Jeffrey Dahmer's type.

Priority for the site will be
to get new pictures of our food.

Well, I'm happy to offer
my services.

Your services as a parody
of a pass‐around party bottom

will not be helpful.

Oh, yaaaas!

I always love the view from
deep inside Miss Lola's shade.

It's like punching pudding.
Matthew, how can you help?

Well, my nickname
"Shutter Eye"

isn't exclusively
because of my anus.

I'm a talented
food photographer!

Back in Catfish Holler,

I developed the cutest
little eating disorder.

I would take pictures of food
instead of eating it.

Now, of course,
I just use portion control

before I vomit everything up.

Matthew, you're hired.

Oh! That's great news,
Nate.

You won't be‐‐Aah!

Aah!

Matthew! Oh, my Mouse!

Oh, my child bride.
Oh, my good‐‐

Oh, everybody, I would
like for you to meet

my ex‐wife, Trish.

What?
Whaaat?

No.
We used to be

the Prince Charles
and Lady Di of Catfish Holler.

[chuckles] But, Trish,
what are you doing in town?

Isn't it obvious?

She's part of Pence's
conversion program.

Oh, sugar booger, I don't
know most of those words.

Mike Pence
has started a program

for licensed therapists
to convert gay people

to heterosexual Americans!

Lola, that's not happening.
I mean, I believe you

when you say Pence
is a failed prototype

for one of those Japanese
sex robots,

but there's no
conversion program.

No, no, it's real.
While we liberals

were busy debating whether
those naked statues of Trump

were body shaming,
Russia elected the fourth Reich.

And there's a protest
about it this afternoon at 3:00.

Uhh. All these protests.

They keep popping up
like Cosby accusers.

All right, how do I go?
What, do I RSVP?

It's not paperless post,
idiot. Just go.

And pretend you don't know me!

Trish, what are you doing
in town?

You know I'm still a slave
to the cock, right?

Darlin', I know.
I was invited

to do an artist residency
at the Balloon Saloon.

Trish is one of the top
Balloon Artists

working in the medium.

We met at a balloon
fetish social.

Mm‐hmm. That's when you
feel sexually excited

by watching other people
sit on balloons till they pop.

Damn it, Matthew,
we all know that.

Stop balloon‐splaining
and get back to work.

Oh, Trish, do you remember
that teacher

we paid to be our
"ticklish toilet"?

Oh, no.
Absolutely not.

[all chanting]
Women against Woody Allen.

Women against
Woody Allen!

Oh, my God, it's you.

Of course it's you.
What's going on?

Is this a flash mob?
'Cause I don't know the dance,

but I can certainly try to learn.

No. It's a protest.
Woody Allen's

shooting in New York again,
and we're not okay with it.

Let me guess, dipshit.
You just auditioned.

Wait a minute.
You look familiar.

Did we used to fuck
in college?

Trick question.
I only did boob stuff

with women in college.
But seriously,

did we used to fuck
in college?

Andrea Mumford.

We've met several times.

None have gone well.
I have no memory of that,

But you seem to know
what you're talking about.

My name's Julie K‐‐
Kessler. Yeah, I know.

Another name
for the WAWA Blacklist.

Wait. You guys work on
"The Blacklist"?

What does James Spader
smell like?

No, you bloated
Wendy's mascot.

WAWA is Women Against
Woody Allen.

Once the WAWA Blacklist
is published

in the Women's History
Month issue

of the "Hollywood Reporter,"

you can kiss your
nonexistent career good‐bye.

Wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait.

How dare you assume

I went up there to audition
for Woody Allen, of all people.

I went in there to protest!

Yeah, that's right.
I ripped up sides

right in front of that
daughter‐marrying

clarinet‐tooting clown shoe.

And then, just to make sure
he knew I was serious,

I burned my bra.

Really?
Yeah, really.

I'm a WAWA too.
See this body I inhabit?

It's a Trojan Horse
for justice.

These are the scales.

Come on.
We did boob stuff in college.

I would have remembered.

♪ ♪

I love that this is my
second protest in one day.

Although this one's
intentional.

Well, it was worth schlepping
out to shit‐show Staten Island

to make our voices heard
in front of

the one building in New York
Trump actually owns.

Isn't it weird our parents
used to go to

protests like this
in the '60s all the time?

Please. The only thing
my mother used to

protest in the '60s was
the notion of letting her hair

air dry so she could
have a natural wave.

By the way, did I tell you
she called me earlier?

She's furious because
the federal government

revoked her parking privilege.

Did somebody say privilege?

Oh, look, it's you two.

BOTH: Hi, Lola.
Do the opposite

of that terrible bra you're
wearing and hold these up.

"Six Pence None the Gayer"?

I don't get it.
Is that a joke?

It's the gay conversion
initiative.

The government's giving
$6,000 to any gay person

who gets converted
by a "licensed conversionist."

Wait, pence is a thousand?
I thought it was pennies!

I should also mention I've
never read a Shakespeare play.

Book?
Shakespeare playbook?

Stage movie? Anyway,
I don't have a great education.

Wait, h‐hold on.
Who gets the 6,000?

The doctor or the patient?
Exactly!

As if integrity
could ever be bought

for such a paltry sum!

[crowd chanting]

Conversion therapy?

I'll take any chance
I can get

to spend time with you
without that third red wheel.

But I had no idea
you didn't wanna be gay!

Oh, no, no, no, Marilyn,
I do wanna be gay.

Oh, whew! 'Cause even I
couldn't convert a gay person.

If I could, you can bet
that Circle Line Cruise

with Anderson Cooper
would have gone a different way.

[laughs] No, no, no.
Look at this.

It's just a new
government program.

They send you the paperwork,

and then you just fill out
some materials

and then you get paid‐‐
It's all bullshit.

Oh, come on, Billy.
Conversion therapy!

That's beyond pseudoscience!
It's harmful, and‐‐

Wait a minute. If I become
a licensed conversionist,

I'd be eligible
for MD parking permit again?

See? It's a win‐win.
You do know

that shrinks no longer
have MD parking privileges.

The only way they told me
that I could get it

is to become a member
of the clergy,

and I had to preside
over funerals for sperms

wasted in masturbation.

No.
Can you believe that?

I did a couple, and then
I said enough is enough.

Marilyn, what do you say?
Will you help me become

a heterosexual thousandaire?

If you help me become a
charlatan with a parking permit!

BOTH: Fuck, yeah!

Ha ha‐‐Oh!
Oh, are you okay?

Arthritis!
Ha ha ha!

♪ ♪

What's that smell?
Is that "not dinner"?

It is not dinner.

And it will never
be dinner again.

Put pilot...I see now

how offensive my cooking
for you was.

I hate every minute
of this confusing conversation.

In honor
of Women's History Month,

I'm working on a PBS
documentary about Molly Kelly.

Who?
She was a feminist icon,

and resented her husband
for infantilizing her.

And I see now that's what
I'm doing to you by cooking.

No! Arthur, there's nothing
that helps

the feminist cause more

than a woman coming home
to food a man made for her.

I should know‐‐I'm
the newest member of WAWA.

You joined Women Against
Woody Allen?

I'm so proud of you!

You're a Molly Kelly
in the making.

Technically, all I did
was set my tits on fire

during an audition
I'll never get.

But it feels good to be
on the right side of things

for once, you know?
Fuck Woody Allen!

That's right.
[phone vibrates]

Hello?

Really?

Arthur, Woody Allen
just cast me in his new series.

Listen, if his last
Amazon show

is any indication,
no one's even gonna know

you're working with Woody Allen

other than a handful
of masochistic TV critics.

I know.
I just don't wanna be

on the WAWA Blacklist.
Working with Woody Allen

never hurt Kristen Stewart
or Parker Posey.

The only woman who ever
got any blowback was Mia Farrow.

But if I work with him,
it's just gonna validate

his terrible behavior.
And I'm not just talking about

the misogyny
in his personal life‐‐

I mean, have you seen
"Whatever Works"?

Yes. And its portrayal
of women

made Mickey Rooney's
performance

in "Breakfast at Tiffany's"
look nuanced and respectful.

So what should I do?
You're asking someone

who's taking 6 grand
from Mike Pence

to pretend I'm not gay.

I don't know if
I'm the right person

to be asking for
ethical advice.

That said, maybe you can

affect some change
from the inside.

Yes, exactly.
Fuck it! I'm gonna do it.

Good. Just make sure
you call someone

and let them know
you want it.

Oh, no, no, no,
I already told them.

I decided last night.
I just needed

a "Dirk Diggler in the mirror"
style pep talk

before I, you know,
whip out my schvantz.

Oh, Matthew!

[exhales]
Where is my Mouse?

Oh, he went to the store

to get some lighting equipment
for the website photo shoot.

Oh, sugar in my bowl.

Will you give him this little
balloon mousey I made?

Sure. Julie, this is
Matthew's ex‐wife.

[laughing]

Wait, really?

Oh, my God, doesn't this
look like a little mini‐‐

Strike Rat! Holy shit!
Yes!

We should have Matthew's
weird ex‐wife

make us one of these.
Or I can make you one.

If we had our own Strike Rat,
we could go anywhere.

'Cause everyone would
think the staff is striking,

and then we would never
have to wait in line again.

Mrs. Matthew, how much
do you think it would cost

to make a giant version
of one of these?

Oh, I'd do it for free...

if y'all two help me
find Matthew

and get him alone
so I can seduce him.

Tch, aw, Trish.

I can only imagine
your backstory.

♪ ♪

Well, did you open it?
And ruin the surprise?

No. Three secret service men
showed up,

and then I called you.
Oh...my...God!

What is in here?

Okay, this is...

Oh, it's a letter
for the conversionist.

That's me.
Ooh!

It's the new vice‐presidential
seal.

Well, that's gotta be a...
hmm.

Okay, well, if you tilt it,
it's definitely a swastika.

So, we just won't tilt it.
Absolutely.

"Dear brave medical
professional,

"thank you for helping
an American

take a step toward becoming
a regular person."

What? "Regular"? Oh, no, no,
don't worry about me.

I'm not offended at all.
No, I was just wondering

if maybe I should record
books on tape.

My voice seems to have
such a commanding quality.

Ooh! It's a porn mag with
identical twins on the cover!

God, is there anything hotter
than incest?

What else is in here?
Oh, a hacky sack and...

barbecue tongs.
Boy, someone really put

a lot of thought into this.
And look.

All three "Hangover" movies
on DVD.

God. Oh!

Coors?

Dare we?

[bluesy music]

So I read your new novel.

So, I read your new novel.

So I read
your new novel.

Wai‐‐I'm sorry,
that can't be right.

How can we all have
the same line?

That's what it says
in the script.

How can you tell?

He writes in longhand
on these...Post‐it notes.

Maybe it means we all
read the line at the same time?

Is Woody here to help us?
Woody?

Nope. He heads home
2:00 p. m. every day

for a salted
cottage cheese dinner.

So back to one or...

Okay, you're all set,
all right?

There this is what's called

a DIY electroshock
therapy kit.

Okay, you look at
all these hot guys,

and then I give you
a tiny shock.

Here's a shock: I've
definitely slept with this guy,

and he wasn't tiny!

[both laughing]

I cannot understand what the
big deal about all this is.

I dabbled in lesbianism
in college.

You did?!
Yeah. Well, truth be told,

three dates in I realized
Dutch was a lady.

And then I thought,
"She's here, I'm here.

Might as well
do some boob stuff."

So how was it?
Eh. It was like "Les Mis."

You know, a lotta people
like it, but for me

it was too long,
too confusing,

and too much drama
for what you take away.

Marilyn, are you gonna
buzz my nips, or what?

Okay, so‐‐
Wait a second.

Wait. There are more
volts here than I thought.

Oh, sweetheart, no, no.
Take those off.

Come on.
This stopped being funny.

You're right.

Aaaahhh!

Aw!
That hurt.

Aw.
You're right.

We'll just throw it all away
and tell them

that we did what they
wanted us to do.

Absolutely!

Would you mind
if I kept "Hangover 3"?

I saw the first two,
and I just wanna know

how it turns out
for the gang.

Wow. Trish really outdid
herself with this Strike Rat.

I feel like we should have
insisted on paying her.

I know. But then I told her
that Matthew was all alone

at the cafe tonight, and she
refused to take any money.

She is one thirsty bitch.
All right, Strikey.

Time to shame these suckers

into not crossing
our fake picket line,

and we can go watch David Blaine
blow his brains out.

"Museum Workers 267."
You gave it a name!

Yeah.
I like that!

Thank you. I named it after
my latest cholesterol count.

Where should we go
to eat after this?

Somewhere impossible
to get into.

But not too late.
I have a big day tomorrow.

After I work on the new
Woody Allen Show,

WAWA is honoring me for refusing
to work on a Woody Allen show.

Okay, that's huge.
Not only did you manage

to avoid the Blacklist, but now
you're the toast of the town.

I know!
Let's celebrate

by cutting lines
all over the city!

Disperse! Disperse!

Disperse.
The power of Strikey

compels you to disperse!
Very unfair!

Get out of this
David Blaine exhibit.

David Blaine!
This is a bad idea

for you to not...go away.

[cheerful music]

Well, he's dead.

Yeah. It was all right.

Yeah. What do you wanna
do now?

Do you wanna eat something?
Or, um, "Hamilton"?

Oh! With the rat.
Yeah, yeah.

WOMEN: ♪ It's a good thing,
good thing ♪

♪ That you're my friend ♪

♪ ♪

♪ It's a good thing,
good thing ♪

♪ That you're my friend ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Something's turning ♪

♪ Now I'm learning ♪

♪ Who's a friend to ♪

♪ Me ♪

♪ ♪

Yaaas!

There you are, little omelet.

[chuckles] I never
have to eat you

Because I've captured you.

I win, food.

I...win!

[door clatters]
Matthew.

Hello, Trish.

Just coming from church?

Actually, I was...
on my way home

after a long day
of twistin' balloons

into different shapes

and then sittin' on them
until they...exploded

under the pressure
of my seated behind.

You remember our weddin' night?

You had a helluva nerve
wearing white.

And so did you.

[bright classical music]

Oh!

Oh! Oh!

♪ ♪

[Matthew exclaiming]

♪ ♪

Oh...oh...oh...oh!

♪ ♪

Rrrr! Rrrraah!

Rrraah!

♪ ♪

[dramatic musical flourish]

[objects clattering]

[old‐time bluesy music]

Oh, Max,
every time I see you,

I feel like I just smoked
a bunch of grass.

Drugs! Great...
she's talking about drugs.

I'm a mental imbecile,
but you...

you're vibrating
on a sexual energy.

I must be your muse.

[bluesy music continues]

♪ ♪

Is someone gonna yell,
"Cut"?

Aw, shit!
Woody fell asleep again.

Come on, everybody.
Start lookin' for him.

Seriously?
Yes! He's a napper

and a hider.
I mean, it's frustrating

when he does both.

All right, everyone
split up and search.

You know, when we were
shooting "Midnight in Paris,"

he fell asleep in a lake.

So we gotta make sure
we're lookin' for

bodies of water, okay?

Large and small!

All right, and let's not
forget to use the call:

[shrilly]
Wha‐whaaaa!

Wha‐whaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Woodyyyyyyyyyyy‐oh!

Woodyyyyyyyyy‐oh!

Let's hear it back!

Wha‐wha‐wha‐Woody!
Whaaaa...

Woody?
[crew shrilling in background]

Woody!
[crew whooping]

I found a fishing hat
and some Knicks tickets‐‐

he can't be far!

Woody?
Woody!

Wah‐wah‐Woody!
Woody?

Hello, Newman.

Oh, fuck!

Hey, guys!
I've been waiting all morning!

You finally showed up
for the WAWA protest.

Woman! Again!

You came in costume?

No. This isn't a costume.

I work at speakeasies
and supper clubs...

doing my burlesque act.

Really? I'm a huge
burlesque fan.

I've never seen you.
Do something from your act.

Well...
♪ I'm a hoochie‐coochie‐coo ♪

♪ And a hotty toddy too ♪

♪ And the town never knew ♪

♪ Such a hullaballoo ♪

[softly] Cha!

Oh, that's right.

I have seen you before.

Hey. Hey, actress.

Hey, actress
in a Woody Allen series.

We found him. He fell asleep
inside a matchbox.

We need you on set
so we can wrap this scene up.

Okay, fine!
I'm in this thing.

If it's any consolation,
it's fucking horrible.

They're all fucking horrible
since "Crimes and Misdemeanors."

I know, but I need
this big break

more than you guys need me
to hold one of your signs.

Look, as soon as I make it,
I'll give back to the cause.

I really am a feminist!

The hell you are.

Welcome to the Blacklist.

We're gonna print your name
in a font

that is five points bigger
than Scarlett Johansson's.

Ooh!
Women!

Uh, hey, actress,
I got some bad news.

We're shuttin' down.
Wait‐‐what?

Turns out
Manhattan Mini Storage

is the name of a business,

Woody doesn't want to go to
the effort to pick a new title.

So...that's a wrap!

[background chatter]

[thud]

Welcome home, Act Break.

How was shooting?
The worst.

Woody shut down production
after WAWA found out

that I lied.
Sounds like somebody

just earned some
chicken fingers.

Ah! Thank God!
You're cooking again.

I'm sorry I'll never be
like Molly Kelly.

It turns out
that's a wonderful thing.

PBS researchers just learned

the reason Molly Kelly
wanted to cook for herself

was because she was
eating her children.

She didn't want her husband
poking around the kitchen.

No bueno!
Yeah, so we're pulling

the Molly docuseries.
PBS will celebrate

Women's History Month
by rebroadcasting

Peri Gilpin's American
Masters episode

for...yet another year.

Roz from "Frasier," I raise
a finger to your legacy.

These are all for me, right?

MAN: Next!
A‐12.

Driver's license,
boat registration,

or no longer gay?
No longer gay.

And I fixed him,
so I'm gonna need

a new MD parking permit.

You're no longer gay.

That's right.
Serve me up some hot wings,

fire up "Better Call Saul"
and please ask me how I feel

about women
who don't wear makeup.

I have an opinion whether
they're beautiful

with or without it.

Yep. Checks out.
Here's your parking permit.

And these are your
straight bucks.

Straight bucks?
To make sure

you'll spend your money
like a straight guy.

A Tommy Bahama gift card?

How am I gonna spend
6 grand at Tommy fucking Bahama?

These are my new MD plates?

"I'm an MD, I cure gays,
and I believe in Jesus."

Those anti‐Semitic fucks!
You can't put that

on your car.
Of course I'm not gonna

put it on my car,
are you kidding?

Trish!

Hi...

What are you doing here?

Boat permit.

Trish.

You did come here
to seduce Matthew

for Six Pence None the Gayer,
didn't you?

Yes, I was at first.
But...

Then I got in too deep.

That's what he said!

[sobbing]

[rapid music]

Three hours
at fucking Tommy Bahama.

Finally I just
bought this shirt

just so the salesman
would leave me alone.

And I compromised integrity
I don't have

to be on a show
that'll never air.

Plus, I'm still on
the WAWA Blacklist.

That's totally fucked up.
We did the wrong thing,

and we still got nothing.

Maybe it's time

to stop trying to cheat
the system.

Yeah. At a certain age,
cutting the line

just becomes a nasty look.

Let's discuss this further
over some Cajun Poke Balls.

All right.

[crowd noise]

Hey, assholes!

Why are you here
with another rat?

Are you striking against the
strikers, you sons of bitches?

Hey, look, the scabs
have a scab rat.

No, we are not.

We're balloon fetishists.
Yeah.

We're balloon fetishists.

We are sexually stimulated
by popping balloons.

In public.
In front of unions.

Who we thought...had
resolved this situation already.

Yeah.
Then prove it.

Pop your Strike Rat
in front of us.

Well, she can't because...
I'm gonna come.

Me, too.
We're both gonna come.

We're gonna come
right on the street,

and no one wants to
see that.

I don't care.

Pop. That. Rat.

CROWD: Pop. That. Rat.

Pop that rat!

Pop that rat!
I'm sorry, Strikey.

Pop that rat!

[pop]

[punk music]

♪ ♪