I have never been so disgustingly sober in my whole life.

My fault?

Oh, my goodness.

The proudest moment of her life was when she captured General Ulysses S. Grant.

Well, Granny, that was my job.

I kept my part of the bargain.

I'm taking my money out of your bank.

I'm going to write my congressman about it too.

She will garland my brow with a victory wreath.

When Granny hears the story of my heroism and sacrifice,

Granny's drawing her money out of my bank, and it's your fault.

As an officer and a gentleman, it is my duty to report.

And here is my charming conqueror, the beautiful belle of the battlefield.

When anyone threatens to take $15 million out of my bank, I bleed.

Much better, now that I've almost finished my work on that Civil War movie.

I give you my word the Army Reserve had nothing to do with Grant's attack.

Well, my friend Drysdale tells me that Clampett is worth about $60 or $70 million.

After she shot me full of lady fingers, I'm still picking crumbs out of my back.

Yes, you see, I'm only a colonel, and when the General asked me for advice, it was my job to give it to him.

Though sorely wounded, I made my way back to the bank to erase from our national currency the last vestige of his evil continents.