All language subtitles for The.Crazy.Ones.S01E08.HDTV.x264-2HD - The Stan Wood Account

MAN:
Well, Cordelia, the room seems

presentable, but, uh...

(squeaks)

(gasps)

...you didn't use Dust It!

No, Monsieur,

I didn't think you'd notice.

I used a cheaper brand.

ALL:
The finger doesn't lie.

What are you guys watching?

It's my dad's old Mr. Finger
campaign for Dust It!

Someone put it on YouTube,

and now it's got, like,
three million hits.

LAUREN:
But wait, I'm confused.

She's French, he's British,

there's a windmill.
What country is this?

My dear, it was the '80s.
We had not yet begun

to ask
those difficult questions.

Plus, when I wrote it,
I'd just huffed

half a can of the product.

Anyway, now that the
campaign is popular again,

we're gonna resurrect it,
and here's the best part...

we landed the
real Mr. Finger.

Oh, my God, he was available?

Luckily he hadn't worked
in 22 years.

I-I used to love
Mr. Finger.

I dressed up as him
for Halloween.

Uh, did you wear the
glove year-round?

Did people mistake you
for Michael Jackson?

Did you know, in
your heart of hearts,

that you couldn't
sleep at night

unless you had inspected
the school library for dust?

No.
You win?

(elevator bell dings)

Hey, there he is.

Glenn Hastings,
everyone, aka Mr. Finger!

(applause) HeHey!

Hey, buddy, you
know they want it.

MR. FINGER:
Well, I never disappoint.

The finger doesn't lie.

His finger just gave me chills.

Do you ever listen to yourself?

Mr. Hastings,
I'm Sydney.

- We spoke on the phone.
- Oh,

my God, I see that the face
is as lovely as the voice.

Oh, charming and handsome.

How is it possible
that you are single?

My wife's dead.

(laughter)

We are so happy
to have you here.

We can't wait to give America
the finger all over again.

The campaign is going to be
great; I will tell you

all about it at dinner.

I booked the early bird
just like you told me.

Well, I just have to
finish a few things,

and we'll get out of here.

Oh, you know, Dad, you can stay.

I'll take Mr. Hastings out.

That way I get him
all to myself.

Well,

I'll just grab my restaurant
teeth, and we'll go.

It's a date. You kids
have a good time, okay?

Wow, I haven't seen
a can of this in years.

Whew.
What are you, nuts?

I'm in recovery over here.

Sorry, I was just dusting.

Yeah, that's what
we called it, too.

Lemon was my polish of choice.

No, I got to go
call my sponsor.

Uh...

(sniffs)

Mm-hmm.

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ Oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh. ♪

Sync & corrections by wilson0804
www.Addic7ed.com

Ugh, how do those guys
from Accounting do it...

dress like their dads,
staring at numbers all day?

So boring.

Poor idiots.

SIMON: Good news,
guys, we have a pitch

next week
for Dixie Paper Plates.

Stare at that for three hours,
see what you come up with.

We're on it, boss.

- You want to look at the back?
- Yeah.

Exactly like I thought...

Okay, creatives,
can everyone put down

the Popsicle sticks
and finger paints

or whatever it is you artistic
monkeys claim to do?

Because we have a problem.

Gordon Lewis... he's like a
truffle pig sniffing out joy.

Gordon, what brings you out
of the land of the anal

to the dirty den
of the creative?

- Well, I'm very upset.
- Oh.

And not just because my
husband is on a juice cleanse,

so now I have to be.

Why can't Timothy
get into barbecuing?

Wouldn't that be nice?

You know what I like
about you and Timothy?

You've been married
since before everyone

was gay.

Yeah, it's like when your
favorite band gets popular,

- but I'm sticking with it.
- Yeah.

All right, so I'm going
over the billing report

in my office... the one that's
a full 100 square feet smaller

than yours, even though
we're equal partners...

- Uh-huh.
- ... and I find that.

I am a beacon of light.

Oh, that's an angel card.

It's Timothy's other
stupid new thing.

Here, what is this?

That's a bill for the
Stan Wood Wallpaper account.

Yes, I know it's a bill. How
come I've never heard of him?

'Cause the air's thin up there,
you miss a lot of stuff.

I've always wondered,
are you attracted to the tops

of guys' heads?

Does Timothy go up on you?

See, I would consider
that a hate crime,

but I think the real hate
crime is what we got going on

right...
(snaps fingers)

Yeah.

I can't do it.

Timothy is so much
better at "the read."

Stop diverting.

Who's Stan Wood?

You know who Stan Wood is.

He's the loud guy
at the Christmas party,

you know, the guy who eats
all the meatballs,

you know, and he has
the holiday cologne

that smells like meatballs.

You even call him Meatballs.

Nice try, but I have a mind
like a steel trap. I remember everything.

Except to clip
those nostril hairs.

It's like staring up
at two tiny armpits.

Listen, I'd love to bask

in the shade
of Kilimanjaro here,

but we have that thing.

Oh, yeah, that thing, guys.

That thing already?

Oh, I know there's no thing.

Wait, do I need
a sweater for the thing?

Wait, ho-hold on,
this is not over.

I should know about even our
most piddly, D-level client.

D-level client?

At Lewis, Roberts & Roberts
all our clients are A-level,

no matter
how D-level they are

(murmuring urgently)

You should be ashamed
of yourself.

You can apologize
in the morning.

Oh, God, am I hungry.

SYDNEY:
I had such a wonderful night.

Yeah. And the best part is, it
all took place in the afternoon.

The irony is,
in my sunset years

I have yet to see one.

(chuckles)

I was worried you'd be bored by an
old man like me. Are you kidding?

When was the last time
I went on a date with a man

that shared my love
of Murder, She Wrote?

Yeah. Okay, let
me get you a cab.

You have a big day
ahead of you tomorrow.

(moaning)

My dear,

you've worn me out.

Would you please close the door

after me?

Good-bye, my darling,
until next time.

So, are we going to talk
about the elephant in the room?

That your pants are so tight,
they're practically meggings?

They give you a moose knuckle.

Who is Stan Wood?

Stan Wood is a secret
we thought best not to tell you.

Oh, come on, you all knew?

Secrets are not
your strong suit,

he who told Gail in Research
about her surprise baby shower.

She was still surprised, just
three days before the shower.

And no one can take
that magical moment

in the elevator away from her.

Who is Stan Wood?

Fine, I'll let you in.

Stan Wood Wallpaper is really
Pete Hadary's Used Cars.

But I thought we gave them up

when we got
Midwest Regional Ford

because of the conflict
of interest.

We can't have two
car dealerships.

Oh.

Pete Hadary was
our very first account.

But if Ford finds out...

They'd fire us and we'd lose
our credibility.

Simon, you know
how I feel about you.

I'd carry your hair in a locket

- if necklaces weren't weird on guys.
- Mm-hmm.

But do you think that this
is really worth the risk?

Son, we have to have
some accounts

where it's not just
about the money.

The Stan Woods let
you sleep at night.

I find an orgasm helps.

I used to throw, like,
a fistful of downers

into a blender
with cough syrup and warm milk.

I called it Milk of Amnesia,

but then sobriety
ruined all that.

Now I need nonsense
like loyalty and ethics

to get through the night.

It was like a lizard flicking
its tongue in my mouth...

or its tail...
whatever is grosser.

Huh, so you
and Mr. Finger.

Yeah, I can totally see that.

That's your takeaway
from my story?

An old man French-kissed me.

I skew older sometimes, too.

It takes a different skill set

but can be
well worth the effort.

Turns out stories of the old
country... really turn me on.

Why do I confide in you people?

Just to blame the victim
for a minute here,

are you sure
this isn't your fault?

He assaulted me.

You kind of led him on.

- Well, how?
- How?

You were all over him.

"Well, aren't you
charming and handsome?

How are you single?"

(sighs)
That's not how I said it.

Hmm, kind of was.

Okay, maybe I said one thing.

"I'll take Glenn out.

That way I get him
all to myself."

And then you really laid it on.

"It's a date.

How do you like your eggs?"

Well, that last
part was implied.

That was old man flirting.

I didn't think it counted.

He's not dead; of course
he's going to succumb

to a pretty girl
that's coming on to him.

Oh, my God, you guys are right.

You're being mean about it,
but you're right.

I feel so bad.

Well, you should.

He's a man
with a heart and a soul,

who grew up penniless on
the mean streets of Cleveland.

What, I'm the only one
who read his book I, Finger?

GORDON:
Yeah.

Yes, Timothy, I am loving
the juicing cleanse.

I hardly miss
the 3,067 calories needed

to keep a man my size alive.

Yeah, I love you, too, honey.

Yeah, yeah, I said it, o-o-okay.

Simon!

- You bellowed?
- This may be a surprise,

but I called the contact number

for Stan Wood,
and it went straight

to a Vietnamese restaurant.

Oh, you are
an amazing storyteller.

How you spin a yarn.

Okay, don't play that
game with me, tiny man.

I'm starving,
I'll eat your head.

Okay.

Lauren, will you please find

the correct number
for Stan Wood?

Okay, it might take me a while.

I'll wait... uh,
you know what?

Better yet, why
don't you get him

on the line for me right now?

Lauren, let me help you
with that.

Oh, hey, Gordon,
that's a great shirt.

- Who is that?
- I don't know.

Do you mind if I grab a
ladder and check the tag?

(muttering)

- I just want to see the tag.
- All right, relax.

Ralph Lauren, wow, nice,
nice, worth the climb.

Yeah, well, I just wear what
Timothy lays out on the bed.

- (phone ringing)
- Yeah, yeah, I know.

- What are you doing?
- No, I...

Oh, excuse me.

Lewis, Roberts & Roberts.

Hello.

Stan?
Great.

Hey, how are you?

Good... listen, I
want to put you

on the line with Gordon Lewis.

Right, right, from the
Christmas party, okay.

Uh, hello, would this be
Mr. Stan Wood by any chance?

SIMON (with accent over phone):
Tak.

(stammering):
I say yes in Polish.

Excuse me, English sometimes
not so quick.

I understand.

You're Polish?
Well, that makes sense.

There's a lot of
Poles in Chicago.

Largest concentration
of Poles outside of Poland.

Very big...

Kick a pierogi down the street,

you'll see who comes out
of the house. (Laughs)

(chuckles) You know,
I've always wondered,

what is the capital of Poland?

Oh, that is a great question.

You know, it's one
for the ages.

I remember, is a beautiful city

with many city streets
and buildings,

lots of building.

It's in the middle of Poland.

You know, I think
its name is...

Warsaw.

Ah, Warsaw.
(chuckles)

Is this the road
we're gonna go down, Simon?

You don't want to tell me
who Stan Wood is,

maybe I'll just have
to ask Weak Link.

(gasps)

Hello, little canary,
time to start singing.

Who's Stan Wood?

Well, this is uncomfortable,
but I can handle it.

(shuddering):
It's getting harder.

Gordon,

Stan Wood Wallpaper is
Pete Hadary's Used Cars.

Did I say that?

I didn't say that,
Simon said that.

Simon's the snitch, yeah.

I'm so sorry, thank you so much

for your honesty, sir,
in this moment of truth.

Yes, yes, yes.

That can't be good
for your cleanse.

The cleanse is off.

I'm six-eight. I can't live
on honey water and sunlight.

And you know damn well that we
can't have two car dealerships.

It's a conflict of interest!

What is this? Kiwi Kick Go-Gurt.
Well, a girl could do worse.

- I'm not doing that much, you know?
- Mmm.

Billboard, Saturday Auto page,
you know how they produced

- a commercial involving a llama.
- That's your commercial?

With the dancing llama?

I put him in the top hat.
The llama came up

with the dance steps on his own.

- I paid for most of it myself.
- Mmm.

Tell you what. You don't tell
Ford about Hadary,

and I won't tell Timothy
about you speedballing a cake.

Simon,

do you know why I decided
to become your partner?

Because I trusted you.

It was the night we met.

25 years ago, freezing cold.

You're standing in the middle
of Lake Shore Drive Yeah.

Wearing nothing
but your tighty whities

and you bet me 2,000 bucks that
you could outrun a city bus.

Wasn't fair.
The bus had snow tires.

- True. But you still paid up.
- Yeah.

And after I Purell'd that wad
of cash that you pulled out

from your underwear,
I said to myself,

"That is a man I can trust."

Come on. Where's your heart?

Pete was your first client, too.

Here's a question you have
to ask yourself:

do you choose the account
that pays us millions

and lets Denise over here send
her kids to private school?

My name's Tammy.
And I've got pugs.

Or do you keep
the piddly account

that you have to pay
for yourself?

That's what you have to decide,

what is best for the agency
and Denise's pigs.

Tammy. Pugs.

You have until Monday
to clear this up.

Monday, Si!

Yeah.

No pressure.

(sighs)

E-Excuse me.

- Mr. Hastings? - Hi.
- I was wondering if we could talk about

- last night. There's something
I want to clear up.
- Hmm?

I should've refused
when you offered to pay.

Uh, here.
(grunts)

- Here's a sawbuck. I won't hear of change.
- Uh, oh.

What I-I wanted to talk
to you about, um, was...

the kiss.

Oh. S-So, I...

misread the moment.

(sighs)
Oh, I-I'm sorry.

Y-You made me...

think I was desirable
and attractive.

You are attractive.

My dear,
you're very sweet, but...

I'm a silly old man.

Nobody wants to jump
on my brittle old bones.

Oh, that's not true.

I'm sure there's plenty of
women that would love to...

cautiously jump
your brittle bones.

You are a lovely
dinner companion.

Well, if you think
I'm a lovely dinner companion,

I'm an even better lunch date!
(chuckles)

I'll pick you up tomorrow
at noon.

Okay.

I'm dating an 80-year-old.

This is Tommy.

He's only eight, but
he's a real spitfire.

He's a Toyota Corolla.

He's a Toyota Corolla.

Take a look at my
little Ruthie.

She's a Pinto. I'll bet she
has an explosive personality.

Boom.
(chuckles)

- Pete.
- Hmm?

I need some advice.

Let's just say hypothetically

that you were an ad agency
with two competing accounts.

And one of them, you know, keeps
your employees fed and housed

and the other one you have
to pay for yourself.

- Which would you keep?
- I'd keep my account.

Let's say one of them
brings in millions and the other

- could get the agency shut down.
- I'd keep my account.

What if you could
go back in time

and prevent Abraham Lincoln
from going to the theatre

- that dark and fateful night?
- I would keep my account.

(sighs)

Pete, I'm very sorry,

but I can't keep your account.

(grunting)

I'm sorry, Simon. I forgot.
What's the safe word again?

Lauren, can't this thing
hit harder?

Maybe you can set it
to "Ike Turner."

No one remembers him
for his songwriting skills.

So sad. Pete wants to retire,

and all of his money is
in those cars

on that lot.
You had to keep

the bigger account, boss.
You'll find

a different way
to sleep at night.

Still pitching orgasm.

What about loyalty?

Pete was a good man
and a minority.

- He checked a lot of boxes.
- Who knows?

Maybe he'll sell all
of his inventory this weekend.

53 cars? There's no way
he'll sell them all himself.

But maybe there's a way
to sell 'em with the help

of the best sales team
in Chicago.

Kaepernick Ford
on Dempster Street?

He sold my dad a minivan.

He just went in
to ask for directions.

It's on a fixed income.
It's caused a lot of tension.

My mom's talking about leaving
him. Anyway, they're really good.

Sydney could finish the Dust It! Campaign
and the rest of us will sell the cars.

- Us?
- Why not? We're advertisers.

We'll sell anything to anyone.
We're basically a pimp

in a mink hat away
from being whores.

I had a somewhat loftier view
of our role in the world,

but, like I always say,
be the best at whatever you do,

so paint your lips,
push up the girls

and let's get that
bitch to polka!

Yeah! - Yeah! - Let's do this!

Huh.

(muttering softly) No.

Oh, hi. Uh, I was

just wondering if I could ask
Mr. Finger a question.

It's more of a request.
Actually, if I seem nervous,

it's because I'm
a really big fan.

Of his. I don't
know your work.

Hey, if this goes well,

do you think you could
take a picture of us tog...

I'll just take a selfie
'cause it's more flattering.

- How's that one? Better?
- Just do it myself.

No, this-this glove seems fine.

Now, let's see
if it shows any dirt.

Dirt.

Oh, my.

You're very dirty.

Okay. Those gloves
are fine.

(grumbling) Hey.

What was that with
the wardrobe lady?

Where-where... where am I?

(pants) I'm going through

the change.

- Have you seen my pills?
- No, no, no.

Don't play the feeble
old... woman with me.

You're a dirty dog.

Hey, this place is crawling
with beautiful women.

- What do you expect me to do?
- Not be creepy to them!

Wait till you're my age. Then
let's see if that's possible.

(stutters)
You made Sydney feel terrible.

You made her feel
like she was leading you on.

Charge it to the game, playa.

You're supposed to be
a defender of cleanliness.

- Huh?
- You don't deserve
to be Mr. Finger.

No. Please.

Please. This is
my big comeback.

Here. Come, come.
Can't we patch this up somehow?

All right.

Because I am a great keeper
of secrets.

But in return, you'll need to do
a little favor for me.

Anything you want.

I'm a lot like James Dean
that way.

No. Not that.

- Huh?
- Something else.

That's right!
(horn honks)

Huge savings!

We're cleaning house!

The finger

doesn't lie!

That's great.

Just six more hours.

I hate you.

Wow. People showed up.
Advertising really works.

Now all I have to do is
transform those eyers

into buyers, turn those
looky-losers into yes-I-dosers.

I feel like you might be
making these up.

Took you four years
to figure that out.

Now, the most important thing
you need to know

about selling cars...

Uh-huh.

Is that when you sell one,

you get to ring that bell.
(bell dings)

You don't get to ring the victory
bell unless you've made a sale.

Now I've got to use
the "never mind" horn.

- (horn blares)
- MAN: Never mind!

Oh. Glad we cleared that one up.

Pete, we're gonna
get you to Boca.

Retirement, kicking back.

Hopefully you're not one
of those guys who dies suddenly

when he stops working.

Boca on three!

One, two, three. ALL: Boca!

(cheering)

SIMON:
How 'bout those Bears, huh?

This car is so comfortable it's
like sitting in Mike Ditka's lap.

Roomy enough for Dick Butkus
and his forehead.

"The Refrigerator" Perry could
fit in the trunk. (Chuckles)

(bell dings)

Hey, there. The
horsepower

on this little beaut is higher

than Mike Ditka's cholesterol.

And you can fit a mimicentury
vanity in the hatchback

while antiquing.

(bell dings)

♪ Hey, must be the money ♪

Now, this baby's a little bit
more expensive,

but I feel like she's calling
your name.

I don't know what it is about
this car that speaks to me.

(bell dings) ♪ I like ♪

♪ Those stylish clothes
you wear ♪

It's got responsive steering,
a capable chassis,

perfect safety scores. The
backseat's on the small side,

but we should all have
that problem, am I right?

We weren't thinking
about buying two cars,

but there's just something
about this one.

(bell dinging)
♪ Hey, must be the money

I have sold the most so far.

If anyone is counting,
I'm ahead.

Not anymore.

Why's everything
a competition with you?

What are we doing, people?
Come on. Let's go.

We still got a few cars left.

No, no. You-You've done enough,
son, really.

Um, this is...
this is the nicest thing

anyone has ever done for me.

Besides, I-I need at
least one car left

to make it look
legit when I burn

the place down
for the insurance money.

You're a good man, Pete!

This was kind of cool.

You've just had
an emotional orgasm,

a soul-gasm, if you will.
(chuckles)

- I'm just glad that it was
with someone safe like Pete.
- Yeah.

All you clowns go on break
at the same time?

- Gordon, what a surprise. Come here to gloat?
- Actually, no.

Timothy found a Snickers wrapper
in my pants pocket,

so now I'm buying him a car.

- Seems a little extreme.
- Timothy is

a former Olympic diver
with five-percent body fat.

- So... this buys that a car.
- Oh.

Gordon, you know
why I became partners with you?

That night when we met
on Lake Shore Drive

and I was shivering
in my tighty whities,

a Sasquatch of a man took off
his circus tent of a jacket

and he wrapped it

around me.

I know you don't want
to admit, but, um...

(whispers):
you really are a good guy.

(whispers): I have no idea
what you're talking about.

- No?
- No.

Okay.

So... about that car...

(tires screeching)

(horn honks)

(chuckles)

Sync & corrections by wilson0804
www.Addic7ed.com

My yogurt's not here.

Oh. It's right down low.
I couldn't see that.

- I'm sorry.
- No worries.

I can't see below five feet.

- Forgive me.
- MAN: I bet.

(laughter) Where's Robin?

I'm over here, big
man. I'm over here.

- How slim are they?
- They're slim and matter-of-fact.

I'll tell you right now.
The pants are so slim...

- Are you having slim pants?
- It's like... like a pipe cleaner

wearing a small dog.

(laughter)

Pull my finger.

(mimics flatulence)

(laughs)

I went to Juilliard.