(Jack tries to convince Conan to let Tracy appear on his show)
Jack: Conan, this is important to me. So, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way.
Conan: What’s the hard way?
Jack: You do a live Christmas Eve special from Kabul every year until the war on terror is won.
Conan: Tell Tracy I’ll see him tonight, you Black Irish bastard.
Jack: Back at you, red.
(Tracy wants to appear charming on Conan's show but doesn't know what to talk about)
Pete: Maybe something about you and your wife.
Tracy: Me and my wife like to play rape. She go in the bathroom and do her hair. Then, I put on a ski mask…
Pete: OK, not that.
Frank: Hey, uh, you got anything about being a dad? People eat that garbage up.
Tracy: I like to walk around my house naked, to remind my oldest son who’s still got the biggest ding-dong.
Tracy: Or I could tell the story how I met Sharon Stone.
Pete: Oh, what was that?
Tracy: I was pooping in the ladies’ room at The Ivy…
Jack: (practicing for a charity dinner) Jack Welch has such unparalleled management skills they named Welch's Grape Juice after him because he squeezes the sweetest juice out of his workers' mind-grapes.
Liz: That doesn't even make sense.
Jack: No, it doesn't, does it? I wrote it down in the middle of the night.
Jack: Cookie in the middle of the day?
Liz: I gave blood.
Jack: Does that burn calories?
Tracy: (to the writers) What else? What else is on my mind-grapes? I could talk about how the moon is a spy satellite put there by Oprah and Minister Farrakhan and not the Minister Farrakhan you're thinking of.
(Liz catches Frank eating the cookie she received for giving blood)
Liz: Ah, Frank, that was my blood cookie!
Frank: Ew. What? (takes another bite)
Jack: Pete, did you know that men with full heads of hair, on average, earn 17% more than their bald counterparts?
Pete: No, I did not know that.
Jack: Perhaps that's because bald men are generally less informed than men with full heads of hair.
Jack: (to Pete) Pull my hair. Right now. Go ahead. Pull my hair. (Pete reaches out just as Jack pulls back and laughs) I'm just kidding. It's- it's real. I'm not like you.
Dr. Spaceman: (answering the phone) This is Dr. Leo Spaceman.
Liz: Hi, I work with Tracy Jordan, and I think he's having a reaction to some of the medication you put him on.
Dr. Spaceman: (vexed) Yecch, I was afraid this might happen. You know, he's on so many different neuroleptics and tricyclics that there's no telling how they'll mix. But, what can you do? Medicine's not a science.
Liz: What exactly are you treating him for?
Dr. Spaceman: I- There's not really a name for what Tracy has. Basically, it's erratic tendencies and delusions brought on by excessive notoriety and certainly not helped by my wildly-experimental treatments. (laughs) Boy, I'm being awfully open with you, Miss. I should not have taken those blue things.
Jack: (to Liz) Leo's an excellent physician and...a pretty good dentist.
Jack: (gasps at the sight of Pete in a toupee) Who is this leader of men? What can I do for you, handsome?
Conan: Hey, Liz. What's up?
Liz: Oh, hi, Conan! How are you?
Conan: Good. You still going out with that guy from the pager store?
Liz: (laughs) Who, Dennis? ...Yeah. You still, um... How's your wife?
Conan: (seriously) Let's not do this, Elizabeth.
Tracy: (seeing Pete in a toupee) No! Past Pete is here to kill Future Pete!
Kenneth: (at Rite Drug) Fine, I will try the other location. But frankly, LaDonica, you have not been real helpful.
Liz: Why are you wearing a tux?
Jack: It's after six. What am I, a farmer?
Tracy: (hallucinating) Mr. Blue Man! You gonna tell me my feet stink? You don't even have feet, Blue Man! Blue Man, where your feet at?
(Kenneth sits in Conan's guests' chair for a mock interview; the entire studio is empty except for him)
Kenneth: Well, I got started in the NBC page program, and before you know it I'm making hit movies with my good friend and roommate Zac Braff. (takes a sip from his invisible mug) What? (laughs) Who told you that? Well, yes, I do know how to clog, but I don't think anybody wants to see me do that. (reacting to the non-existent audience) You do? Really? (laughs) OK...
(Kenneth clogs as Conan enters)
Conan: You're a weird guy, Kenneth.
Kenneth: (continues clogging) See you tomorrow, Mr. O'Brien!