Get out your dictionary and look up the word plagiarism.

Dear Liar

The Union
An Explosive Affair
Rumors
Straight from the Heart
Who's on First?
Three Days of the Condo
Jennifer and the Will
The Consultant
Love, Exciting and New
You Can't go out
of Town Again

Pills
Changes
Jennifer and Johnny's
Charity

I'll Take Romance
Fire
Dear Liar
Circumstantial Evidence
The Creation of Venus
The Impossible Dream
To Err is Human
Up and Down the Dial


Les: Experts predict that within this century the rutabaga will disappear from the national diet.
Johnny: No.
Les: And why, you ask?
Johnny: Why?
Les: Consumer disinterest, apathy, and, in some cases, believe it or not, open contempt.
Johnny: NO!
Les: How have we arrived at this pretty pass?
Johnny: Tell us, Lester!
Les: Listen all this week for my five-part, gloves-off, no-holds-barred commentary, "Rutabaga, the Vanishing Vegetable"!!
Johnny: Say halleluiah, brother, I believe!
Les: Halleluiah! Now the Johnny Fever radio broadcast!
Johnny: Amen and thank you Lester Nessman, patron saint of the perpetually strange here on WKRP.

Johnny: Do you know that they are clubbing baby rutabagas for their skins?

Andy: Les, your stories always seem to have a kind of a, uh... how shall I put this?
Johnny: Barnyard aroma?

Herb's "Convention Kit Checklist":
Venus:
Joy buzzer?
Herb: Right.
Venus: Tie that lights up?
Herb: Gotcha. Tie that lights up. Huh?
Venus: Duck call.
Herb: Duck call.
Venus: Duck call?
Herb: Duck call.
Venus: Whoopie cushion.
Herb: Whoopie cushion. Where's the whoopie cushion? Uh oh.

Bailey: Then I'll be able to write my story and solve your problem.
Edna Perkins: We have twelve wards full of sick and damaged children, and barely enough money to care for them. There's your story. Go solve our problem.

Les, reading Bailey's story: My tour of the wards was something I'll not soon forget. Everywhere I looked were young faces, filled with promise that will not be realized, dreams that will never come true. But the event that summed up the experience for this reporter came as I was about to leave. I felt a tug on my skirt - at - at - at my shirt - and looked down into the face of a little boy named Bobby. He's ten years old, and unable to speak, but he reached up and he handed me a picture he had drawn, a crude rendering of a flower... For in this primitive drawing, Bobby had managed to convey a sense of the true beauty that dwells within his soul. Speaking as someone who someday hopes to bear children - to bear children on my shoulders, men do that you know! - I would like to say that I'll never forget little Bobby, and I'll cherish his flower always.

Andy: While we're on the subject of journalistic integrity, I want you to go to your desk, get out your dictionary, and look up the word "plagiarism."
Les: All right. (Leaves.)
Mr Carlson:
And as for you, young lady, do you have any idea how serious this is? (aside to Andy) How serious is this?

Bailey: I went down there expecting to see little kids with high temperatures and casts on their arms. I saw a four year old burn victim. I saw a six year old girl with leukemia. I saw a little boy who was allergic to his own skin!
Andy: Oh, Bailey.
Bailey: I couldn't pick out just one and I couldn't begin to describe them all, so I just put them all into "Bobby." The only thing I made up was that stupid flower picture!
Andy: It was a nice touch though, Bailey!
Les, entering: "Plagarism. An act or instance of plagiarising. Something plagiarized." (Slams the dictionary and leaves.)

Andy: This is the station that has employed Herb Tarlek for the last sixteen years. Don't talk to me about integrity!

Andy: You screwed up. Around here that makes you normal.

Andy: Bailey? You ever do that again, you'll be the best-looking reporter on the unemployment line.
Bailey: Right. ... Best looking? Oh.

Johnny: He said he was through with vegetable stories forever.
Andy: Oh, fantastic.
Johnny: The blood of the rutabaga is on your hands, pal.

Les: It's difficult to describe the feelings this reporter had as he walked through the pens. I felt a tug on my pantleg, and I looked down into the face of Harold, a little razorback hog, blind since birth!

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