Red Heat

— Stress management. You watch the fishes. You water the plants. Special breathing exercises. Monitor your blood pressure. Listen to pleasant sounds. Relax... Personally, I think it may all be a pile of shit! But when you're facing a bypass, you stop asking questions. Look, just out of curiosity, and since I figure cops are cops the world over... how do you Soviets deal with all the tension and stress?
— Vodka.

— Where did you learn to drive a bus, anyway?
— Kiev. In the army.

You want to know what my crime is? My crime was being born. I'm 38 years old and I've been locked up 26 of those. I educated myself in here. I've come to understand this country was built on exploiting the black man. Of course, I don't hear anything about brothers in your country. But your country exploits its own people just the same. So I guess that makes me the only Marxist around here... right, comrade? You see, this ain't just no drug deal. This is politics, baby. This is economics. This is spiritual. I plan to sell drugs to every white man in the world... and his sister.

— A Russian?
— Soviet.

— How come I get all the shit jobs?
— Because it fits you, Ridzik.

— Even scumbags have rights in this country. I told you.
— In Soviet Union, only after two days can scumbag talk to lawyer.

— Hey, asshole. You can't park here. This is my parking place. I live right up there. Move your piece of shit car out now or give me 50 bucks.
— I do not understand.
— Let me make it real simple, moron. You move your ass or give me 50 or I take my Pete Rose... and fucking mutilate your car.
— Do you know Miranda?
— Never heard of the bitch.

— Where is your evidence?
— Cocaine!