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Sir, how often should one exonerate one's bowels?
One should never, ever interrupt one's desire to defecate.
I have inquired at the Bronx and London zoos...
as to the daily bowel evacuation of primates.
It's not once, twice or three times, sir, but four.
At the end of an average day their cages are filled...
with a veritable mountain of natural health.
And sex?
Sex is the sewer drain of a healthy body, sir.
Any use of the sexual act other than procreation is a waste of vital energy.
Wasted seeds are wasted lives.
- Eating meat? - He that killeth the ox...
is as if he slew a man.
Each juicy morsel of meat is alive and swarming with the same filth...
as found in the carcass of a dead rat.
A meat eater, sir, is drowning in a tide of gore. What is a sausage?
A sausage is an indigestible balloon...
of decayed beef riddled with tuberculosis.
Eat it and die.
For I have seen many a repentant meat glutton...
his body full of uric acid and remorse, his soul adrift on a raft...
in an ocean of poisonous slime...
sloshing against the walls of the body's kitchen.
Smoking?
The liver is the only thing standing between the smoker and death.
Also certain other things have to be avoided...
like feather beds...
and romantic novels...
and the touching of one's organs.
Masturbation is the silent killer of the night...
the vilest sin of self-pollution, the sin of Onan.
Dr. Kellogg, how did you come to invent the cornflake?
The cornflake, sir, is just one of 75 of my creations for healthy living...
among them peanut butter and the electric blanket.
And what about your imitators? There are 103 other cornflakes...
presently being manufactured here in Battle Creek.
Sir, corn is the Injun's gift to the New World...
and the cornflake is my gift to the entire world.
And what do you think about your brother?
My younger brother, W.K. Kellogg, worked for me...
as a low-paid assistant for many years.
Now he's on his own and amassing fortunes with my cornflake invention.
Unfortunately he has chosen the family name to promote it.
But the whole world knows only one Kellogg:
Me, Dr. John Harvey Kellogg...
surgeon, inventor, author and crusader for biological livin'.
I do not seek monetary reward...
for I am called to a greater glory.
Here, at the Battle Creek Sanitarium...
the spirits soar, the mind is educated...
and the bowels... the bowels are born again.
Every woman
And every man
Is at the temple of health
Here at the Battle Creek San
In, out. In, out.
- Did you? - Nothing.
Oh, my darling Will, I'm so sorry.
Eleanor, if I could only eat something.
My poor thing.
Not now, Will.
Excuse me, sir. But would you mind if we joined your table?
I'm afraid the dining car is rather crowded.
- No, no, no. Not at all. Please. - Thank you.
- Ossining. Charles Ossining. - Eleanor Lightbody.
And this is my husband, Will.
- How do you do. - Allow me to give you my card.
I'm in the breakfast food business.
Really? Which one? Try-a-Bita? Krinkle? Foodle?
Cero-Fruito? Fush? Goodness, there's so many, suddenly.
- It's hard to keep up. - Per-Fo.
Per-Fo? Don't believe I've heard of that one.
Actually, we haven't started yet.
In fact, I'm on my way to Battle Creek to start the company.
- How nice. - You're eating oysters.
Yes. Bluepoints. They're quite good.
- Would you like to try one? - No!
- It's his stomach. - May I take your order, sir, madam?
Oh, yes.
I'll have the cucumber salad and a glass of water. Thank you.
- And sir? - Toast. And a glass of water.
- Toast? - Toast.
And how would you like that, sir?
Toasted. Dry. On its own. On a plate.
Certainly, sir.
Battle Creek, you say. Well, what a coincidence.
That's our destination too. We're going to the sanitarium for the cure.
- I've never been. - Third time for me. First for Will.
I'm one of those Battle freaks that you read about.
Well, well, well.
- Scavengers of the sea, you know. - Excuse me?
Eleanor, not again, please.
Oysters live in muck and filth, and they feed on it.
You said you wouldn't do this.
Oyster juice is nothing more than urine.
- Urine? - Piss, to use the vernacular.
Eleanor, that's enough!
But, Will, the gentleman should know that he's ingesting slimy piss.
Will you never shut up!
Oh, my God!
Terrible thing, indigestion.
Bye, Mr. Ossining. Good luck with your new company.
Good-bye.
Bend and stretch.
Twist, twist.
And I will show to you...
that in the sluggish bowels of the flesh eater...
lays the source of 9/10... 9/10...
of the chronic ills from which human beings suffer.
Ah, Mr. Dab, you're back.
Good. We can continue with the " Question Box" with a small demonstration.
- Sir, he's here. - Later, Poult, later. Sit down.
Ladies and gentlemen, here I have in front of me a steak...
which my assistant, Mr. Poultney Dab, assures me...
is the finest porterhouse the nearby Post Tavern Hotel has to offer.
Also, I have here a bag of horse excreta.
Oh, yes. Manure.
Dung from our very own stables, so fresh it is still warm.
Hey, and steaming!
Dr. Linniman, would you be so kind as to prepare a sample of each...
for the microscopes, please?
Ladies and gentlemen, I will now provide you with proof...
which I fervently hope will forever turn you away...
from the disgustin' habit of eating meat.
Disgustin' not only because we should never take the lives...
of our fellow creatures, but disgustin' because, my friends, what lurks...
within that steak...
is as bad or worse than that which crawls inside that bag of barnyard dung.
Now, may I have a volunteer, please?
Oh, come on, don't be shy.
Miss Muntz, who I see in the second row here.
Would you be so kind as to come to the table, Miss Muntz, please?
Watch your step.
- Thank you. - Watch your step, sir.
Oh, breathe it in, Will. Can't you just smell it?
We're both going to get well. I just know it. It's a promise.
What do you see, Miss Muntz?
White specks crawling.
Dr. Linniman, please, please, do not keep us in suspense.
Please reveal to our good friends here the identity of the offensive slide.
Sir, Miss Muntz has identified the porterhouse steak.
Ladies and gentlemen, please come to the podium and see for yourself.
Oh, it's Dr. Kellogg's "Question Box." What a pity we missed it.
- How much do I tip? - Oh, no dear. Not at the San.
Ah, Mr. Birdwhistle...
Look, Will! There's the great man himself. There's Dr. Kellogg.
Working that program, are we? Good girl.
Mr. Abernathy. I trust the Protose broth is helping with the flatulence?
- Very well, Doctor. - Good. Splendid.
Ah, Mrs. Portois, a glow in your cheeks I detect.
A veritable beacon of natural health!
How pleasing.
Hello, Father. Aren't you going to introduce me?
- Do you have some spare change, miss? - Excuse us, please.
How dare you, son? I've told you never to come here.
Come on, Father, give us a cuddle.
- You stink, sir. - Don't we all in one way or another?
Your behavior is unconscionable.
- Now, why are you here? - Money.
You've had all the money you'll ever get from me, boy.
Dr. Kellogg, what a pleasure to see you.
- Ah, yes, Mrs... - Lightbody. Eleanor Lightbody.
I'd like to introduce you to my husband. This is Will.
Hello, You look like you're on your last leg. Can you spare some change?
Excuse us, please.
- How much? - One hundred.
Mr. Wilcox. Take this gentleman to Mr. Phipps...
and tell him to give him $100.
Then show him the front gate. Thank you.
Poor wretch. A charity patient. Ah, now, Mr. Lightbody, is it?
How do you do, sir? Oh, dear, you are unwell.
Let me see your tongue, please. Out more.
Wider. More. That...
Oh, yeah.
The tongue is the billboard to the bowels, Mr. Lightbody...
and this piece of furry flesh between my fingers shouts S-l-C-K, sick.
You're a sick man, sir. As severe a case of autointoxication as I've ever seen.
Is there anything you can do? We're both tremendous believers in your methods.
I am, anyway. But Will is really keen to learn. Aren't you?
- Uh... - You've come to the right place.
But we are merely lifeguards at watch on the shores of the alimentary canal.
A wheelchair immediately for Mr. Lightbody! Hurry!
I don't need a wheelchair. I do not need a wheelchair.
Sir, I am a doctor, and you take my word for it. You are in need of a wheelchair.
Wheelchairs are for amputees, for Civil War veterans...
old people with one foot in the grave.
Lucky if you have only one foot in the grave, because I can help you.
Two feet in and your money will be better spent with an undertaker.
Mr. Johnston, I want the finest care for this gentleman.
So get the very best attendant. Graves. Yes, get Nurse Graves.
Hey, one foot in the grave! Ha!
I will see to you personally first thing in the morning.
- If you're still alive, that is. - Thank you.
Thank you, ma'am.
Frank!
Oh, darling, it's Dr. Linniman who I told you about...
who looked after me so wonderfully well the last time... you remember.
No, I don't remember.
How are you?
Oh, it's heaven to be back.
It's good to see you again. Eleanor, you've lost weight.
Wait. I want my wife!
- You Charles Ossining? - Yes!
Mr. Bender says you're to come with me.
Thank God, boy! Where's the cab?
No cab, sir. Mr. Bender said to walk.
He did, did he? Is it far?
It wouldn't be if we weren't walkin'.
- Where are you taking me? - Your room. Your wife will go to hers.
- We're together. - Oh, no, sir. That just wouldn't do.
If you get my meaning?
Up, please, Harold. Best air in the place. Lovely view too.
Hello, Irene. Here he is.
Welcome to the San. I'm Nurse Graves...
and I'll be your personal nurse during your stay here.
Ah, you must be tuckered, sir, what with all that rail travel.
Terrible. Shakes you up like an eggnog.
Here we are. Nice, cheery room.
Torture. Worse than the Spanish Inquisition.
- Torture? - Rail travel.
Well, I will bid you good night...
and leave you in the capable hands of Nurse Graves.
- Night, Irene. - Good night, Ralph.
Undress, please.
- You're very beautiful, Irene. - Please. Don't talk, Mr. Lightbody.
Not in your condition.
Now, we're gonna have you asleep in no time at all.
But it's only 6:00.
And I haven't slept a wink in 22 days.
Well, tonight you'll sleep like a baby. That's why I'm here.
Now, I want you to relax.
And I'll be back later to give you your bath.
Where are you taking me? I thought Mr. Bender was staying at the Post Tavern!
He is. Only you're up there.
$3.25 a week due every Saturday.
Breakfast at 7:00, dinner at 1:00, supper at 6:30...
and she wants a week in advance.
I'm sorry, Nurse, but I think that I'm hallucinating.
Just kneel in the bath, please, Mr. Lightbody.
I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since I got here, I keep seeing...
I came here with my wife, you know.
Oh, yes, I know. She's on the second floor, room 212.
She won't be staying here?
Oh, no. All couples are kept separate here, Mr. Lightbody.
- They are? - Of course.
Our patients need complete rest.
Any sexual stimulation could be fatal.
Now, I want you to relax.
- What is that? - This... is a colonic wash.
It is hot paraffin, soap and tepid water.
Now, bend over a little bit please.
There. Just relax, Mr. Lightbody...
and we will purge you of all that ails you.
Oh, but I don't even eat meat. Not anymore, anyway.
Just relax. It'll all be over in a second.
No, l... Honestly, lately it's just beet tops and savory broth.
Your intestines are probably putrid with disease and germs.
Nurse Graves...
I have to confess to you that I'm very sexually stimulated.
I think that I have an erection.
Clean thoughts make for clean bowels, Mr. Lightbody.
Please, just try and think of me as one of nature's nuns...
here at the temple of health.
One card, my dear sir.
Is your wife still available?
It's room 25, sir.
Ah, Charles! You made it!
So sorry I couldn't be there to meet you.
But I was busy cultivating the garden of business.
These gentlemen behind me are the very princes of this town.
Pillars. Important people. How are your lodgings?
Disgusting. Why didn't you put me up here?
Tut, tut, Charles. We're on a budget.
We can't throw your good aunt's money around now, can we?
- But you're staying here! - Show, Charles. All show.
For the gentlemen at the table. Did you bring Mrs. Hookstratten's check?
Yes, and she's very anxious to hear about the factory site you've acquired.
- Ah, the factory. - And the ovens.
Ah, the ovens. There's been a slight hiccup. There are no ovens.
But you wrote that the Vita-Malta flake factory came with ovens.
There are no ovens, because, alas, there is no factory.
There's no factory? Bender, in your letter...
Goodloe. Charles, please. Call me Goodloe.
We are partners, after all. Would you like a brandy?
I don't want a brandy! I want an explanation!
It's true, I almost had a factory.
But the thief I was dealing with wanted rather too much for the lease...
and I lacked the necessary spondulicks.
- Spondulicks? - Capital, Charles.
Money. As in "running short of."
Do you mean that you have spent the whole of the start-up money already?
Please, please. Not in front of company. Step into my office.
I know you're probably tired after the trip.
And it might seem that I'm living it up here in the lap of luxury.
Now you listen to me, you jumped-up streak of pompous piss.
You don't think you could start a company like Per-Fo just like that!
- You've stolen my aunt's money. - It's not stealing!
It's capitalism, you ignorant prick!
And palms are the wheels of capitalism, and they have to be greased, boy.
I'm not your boy, Bender. Get that straight!
Charles, Charles. It all takes money.
You had money! You had my aunt's money, and now you've pissed it all away!
Ah, but you're forgetting one thing. We have a great product.
- We don't have anything! - You're wrong, Charles. You're wrong.
We have cartons. Beautiful Per-Fo cornflake cartons.
And why is it a great product?
Because " it perks up tired blood and exonerates the bowels."
- Didn't you write that? - I did write that.
- It's brilliant. - It's good.
It's an inspiration, is what it is.
It's good. I know it's good.
But you can't sell empty boxes no matter what it does to the bowels.
It has to mean something. We have to make something.
Something that tastes great and is easy to prepare.
- Something good for you. - Right! Health!
The "open sesame" to the sucker's purse.
- Who are you? - George.
I'm called George.
What's your name?
Eleanor Lightbody. Do you work here?
I'm Dr. Kellogg's son.
- Not his real son. I'm adopted. - Oh, of course.
He adopted lots of us.
Yes, I know.
I've got 39 brothers and sisters. Lucky, aren't I?
Yes, that's very nice.
But why are you here?
I came for my allowance.
And I like to look at the nude ladies.
You have a very nice body, Mrs. Nicebody.
Lightbody. Mrs. Lightbody.
My mother had a nice body.
She did?
She was a whore.
She was?
In Chicago.
She was dead when the doctor took me in.
They found me sitting by her dead body.
George Kellogg!
Come here.
Your coat, George. Where's your coat?
Look at me.
Why don't you ever speak, George?
It is of great distress to me, to Mrs. Kellogg, to your brothers and sisters.
Your coat, George. Your coat is on the floor, not on the hook.
How many times must you be told to hang your coat up on the hook?
Speak to me.
Hannah!
Yes, sir, Doctor.
You will supervise. George will enter this house, close the door...
climb the stairs, remove his jacket and hang it on its hook.
He will do so until bedtime...
and then continue after breakfast until this time tomorrow.
Until 4:00 tomorrow. Is that understood?
Yes, sir, Doctor. Understood.
Sir!
I said until 4:00 p.m. It is now 7:00.
He won't stop, sir. We've tried to, all of us, but he won't take any notice.
George, that's enough now. You've learned your lesson.
Run off to your supper.
George, stop this moment, I say.
Stop, I say!
Very well, suit yourself. I have work to do. You'll continue until you drop.
George, stop this madness immediately!
Stop it. George, stop, stop, stop!
Stop it!
George, I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry. Please, please go to your room and sleep.
Oh, Virginia, isn't this wonderful?
Don't you sometimes feel you're in the healthiest spot on the whole planet?
My dear Eleanor, there is no greater pleasure for a woman...
than bicycling in one's bloomers.
You know, bicycling for women is still very much frowned upon in Peterskill.
Oh, what they're missing.
Fresh air, the exercise!
And the pleasure of a leather saddle between one's thighs.
Oh, Virginia, what do you mean?
"Bicycle smile," I believe they call it. It's changed my life.
I'm afraid I don't follow.
My dear, I have very little use for my husband...
in the sexual gratification department.
And so I find a long ride on my bicycle once a week does the trick.
Come on, you two! Keep up. You're lagging.
You go ahead, Eleanor. I feel a smile coming on.
Every woman, every man
- Is at the temple of health - Nurse Graves? Irene?
I'm Nurse Bloethal. Would you join me in the bathroom, please?
I've already had one of those.
Well, now you get another.
Sir?
Bender, Mr. Bender. Fetch him this instant.
- Where the hell have you been? - Please, Charles, please.
You're making a scene. Have a seat.
Are you hungry? You must be.
We had an appointment. We're supposed to be out looking for factories.
Ah, slipped my mind.
Delmonico steak, rare, for this gentleman.
Smothered with onions and a plate of your delicious fried potatoes.
- You look starved. - We're supposed to be on a budget!
Hello. I'm George.
Meet my luncheon companion, George Kellogg.
Charles Ossining. Pleased to meet you. Did you say "Kellogg"?
Mm-hmm.
George has the proud distinction of being John Harvey Kellogg's son.
The doctor's a very great man.
He's a fuck pig. I hate him.
Charles, this worthless bundle of piss and vomit beneath our table...
is the good doctor's estranged adopted son.
- No love lost between them, I'm afraid. - Did you say "worthless"?
- Yeah. - Goodloe, hear me now.
This man is the key to our fortune.
You need your steak. You're delirious.
- What if we made him our partner? - You're most certainly delirious.
- Where the hell is this man's luncheon? - The name!
The magic name. Kellogg.
The good doctor's brother has spent millions advertising it.
Don't you see? It's so simple!
- We become... - Ah!
Kellogg's Per-Fo Incorporated!
It's brilliant, Charles.
You are brilliant. There's no doubt.
I feel a wind crackling with banknotes blowing in our direction.
- But maybe it's... - It's what?
Maybe it's a tad dishonest.
It's enterprise.
It's the lifeblood that pumps through the veins of this wonderful country.
It's a stroke of genius.
Lift up your eyes. Look. What do you see?
- Wellville. - Yes!
The shining spires of Wellville, gleaming in the sun.
A magical land of health and money.
It's a good idea, if I do say so myself. It is a great idea!
You are a genius, Charles.
You know, last night I awoke to the sound of spoons.
- Spoons? - Millions of them.
Rattling against a hundred million breakfast bowls...
brimming with our cornflakes.
Listen, Charles.
What do you hear?
The sound of money!
Where would you like to sit, sir?
- I was looking for my wife, actually. - Here's a menu, sir.
The nut Lisbon steak with the gluten gravy looks delicious today.
No. Toast. Dry toast and water.
Won't you join us?
Introductions, please, Mr. Hart-Jones.
Endymion Hart-Jones.
No, I'll just have the toast.
That's my name. I'm not on the menu.
This is Mrs. Tindermarsh.
Miss Muntz you've met, I believe.
The Russian gentleman at the end we call Mr. Unpronounceable...
is from Saint Petersburg, and neither speaks nor understands English.
Do smile at him. He has chronic wind, poor fellow.
- Will Lightbody. - Eleanor's husband. What a pleasure.
- Sore rectum? - Yes, somewhat.
The enemas take some getting used to, but in time you'll learn...
to look forward to them like an old friend with a cold nose.
I must say five a day does seem a bit too, well, purgative.
Five?
The doctor is rather addicted to his enemas as befits a broom maker's son.
I understand he got the idea in India. He was studying...
Africa. It was Africa.
Africa, India. Anyway...
he was studying apes that apparently ate and pooed, as it were, simultaneously.
Oh. Well, I don't eat very much. I don't eat very much at all.
But the apes suffer not in the slightest...
from the ailments that afflict the civilized bowel.
We're all too house-trained, Mrs. Tindermarsh.
But we couldn't go around evacuating at will, Mr. Hart-Jones.
The mess would be frightful.
Do you masticate, Mr. Lightbody?
Do I what?
Masticate?
You're not a follower of Horace Fletcher?
Fletcherize.
- You really must chew, Mr. Lightbody. - Oh.
One, two, three, four.
Chew, chew, chew That is the thing to do
Chew, chew, chew
Good food is good for you
Chew, chew, chew
But only if you chew
That is the right thing to do
Poor thing has eaten nothing but toast for days. He's probably a little weak.
Drink the water, Mr. Lightbody.
I think I fainted. Ellie.
We'll leave you to it, Mrs. Lightbody.
It's all right, Will. Everything's fine.
Oh, I miss you, Eleanor.
I miss... I miss your kindness.
But I'm here, Will. I'm here now.
I'm scared, EI. I want to go home.
- No, please. Pull yourself together. - I wanna go home!
Please, you're making an exhibition of yourself!
I just won't let you spoil this for me.
I don't like this place. I want to go home.
But we both made a promise.
We're not well. Neither of us.
Don't you see we can never be happy until we're healthy again?
It's such a small sacrifice for all the happy years ahead of us.
But I feel violated here.
I give up.
I love you, Eleanor, sick as I am.
I'm sick too. I'm sick of your self-pity.
Can't you see this is the only place where I'm completely happy?
Eleanor, I know it's been hard for you, but it's these people.
These good people were at my side when I had my baby. You weren't.
You told me to stay away. You made me stay away.
I was in Peterskill chewing at my insides waiting for your telegram.
- I wanted to come. - You were a useless drunk!
I didn't want you near me, and I certainly didn't want you near my baby!
By the time you'd sobered up, our baby was dead!
I'm sorry.
I'm truly sorry.
Is something wrong? What's the matter?
So why on earth did you bring him here?
I had to. He's very sick.
- And in a way, it's all my fault. - Oh, rubbish.
It's true, Virginia.
You see, I poisoned him.
You poisoned him? When?
How? Strychnine? Arsenic?
It wasn't deliberate. I didn't mean to hurt him.
He used to take Hostetter's Bitters for his stomach and...
Don't tell me... 80% alcohol. Wonderful stuff.
I used to take it for my monthly.
Then he went on to drinking a whole bottle of Old Crow a night.
He was like a stranger. And he always wanted...
Sex?
- It was... - Don't tell me.
Grunt, grunt, thank you very much. Good night, spit, snore.
- It wasn't that I didn't want him... - Marriage is legalized prostitution.
I wanted to be more than a hole in the mattress that answers to a name.
Amen.
So I saw this cure for drunkenness in the Lily magazine.
The Sears White Star Liquor Cure, it was called.
And I used to slip a drop into his coffee each evening...
and he slept.
He didn't go out or get drunk, he just slept and slept.
It was... It was wonderful.
But then when I was here last, he found the bottle and had it analyzed.
What was in it?
The juice of the poppy.
Opium?
Yes.
I'd turned him into an opium addict.
He had terrible nightmares.
And finally his stomach just completely gave up on him and...
Supposing he dies, just like my baby died.
Oh, everything's my fault.
I want so much to love him.
I've... I've just forgotten how.
Who is that man?
Bartholomew Bookbinder. One of Kellogg's top men.
And now he works for us. He's good, and he's cheap.
Never heard of him.
- You've never heard of him? - No.
- You know of him? - No.
- Seen him around? - Nope.
- The name must ring a bell. - Nope.
Here she is.
It doesn't seem very... well... hygienic.
Don't be petty, Charles. From humble beginnings...
Gentlemen, I think a little celebration...
is called for.
Charles, please...
as president and chief...
I think a few choice words from you...
are in order.
To our prosperous futures.
No, no, no, no.
To the shining spires of Wellville.
To Wellville.
We love good food!
No fish or fowl...
is a friend of the bowel.
We eat good food.
Puts us in a...
good mood.
Ah, Mr. Lightbody, good morning. I hope I haven't kept you waiting.
- Have a pomegranate. - I don't think that I ought to...
No? Antitoxic. The finest roughage God ever provided.
Off with the robe, please.
A sample of your stool, please.
Here? Now?
Behind the screen, sir.
You are autointoxicated, Mr. Lightbody. Quite frankly, it was obvious.
Drawn features, dry hair, mournful expression, sunken eyes.
Coated tongue.
Now, ready?
Is that it?
Well, I don't eat very much.
And with the enemas...
Your stool, Mr. Lightbody, quite frankly, is pathetic.
Formless, mushy and foul-smelling.
- Take it away, Nurse. - How should they be?
My own stools, sir, are perfect.
They are gigantic and have no more odor than a hot biscuit.
On to the Morris-Scope, if you will, please.
Ha! Just as I thought!
Mr. Lightbody, you, sir, are the reason why so many women...
like your dear, beautiful wife, are old longer than they are young.
But I've done everything I could to help her...
to comfort her, to...
Connubial relations, sir. Your natural urges.
Sex.
Candidly, Mr. Lightbody, the lump of flesh that dangles between your legs...
is a dangerous weapon.
It will have to be harnessed, locked away, retired. For both your sakes.
But we don't... Well, not lately. Not for a long time.
Not since the...
It is my scientific conclusion that sex is unnecessary and dangerous.
But isn't that a bit drastic?
You cannot afford the loss of life-giving fluids.
The shock to the system can be fatal. Please, blow into this.
I get erections.
- You get what? - Erections.
He gets erections.
I warn you, sir, an erection is a flagpole on your grave.
I can't help it.
You listen to me, Lightbody. Our baser appetites can and must be controlled.
I myself am a monk with regard to the sexual intercourse...
and hence I am a beacon of good fine health...
and more importantly, so is my dear beautiful wife.
- I didn't realize... - Fortunately, I can help you.
- And so can someone else. - Who?
- The Bulgarians. - The Bulgarians?
The Bulgarians live longer than any other humans on earth, and you know why?
No, I'm sorry, I don't know any Bulgarians.
- Yogurt. - Yogurt?
Nurse Graves!
- Yes, Doctor? - Take Mr. Lightbody...
to the yogurt room and give him 15 gallons.
Oh, no, no, I can't eat 15 gallons of yogurt.
Oh, it's not goin' in that end, Mr. Lightbody.
But I get desires.
You mustn't. Not at the San.
It's very bad for your health.
Erections?
Yes! All the time. Since I got here.
Ah, the silent killer of the night.
They say nothing takes the rosiness from the cheeks...
as fast as personal fornication.
Oh, the pleasures of the sinusoidal bath.
One of the doctor's better inventions.
Feel the current tingle, Will?
- I do. Isn't it dangerous? - Apparently not.
Can you feel those electric ants nibbling at your privates?
Fish. Fish! More like being eaten alive by fish.
They say it's the equivalent of climbing the steps of the Washington Monument.
- You don't even loosen your tie. - I think it's giving me an erection!
More amperes, please, Mr. Woodbine.
Let us brave the foothills of Mount Everest to...
Nibble, nibble.
In and out.
Seize the air with your lungs.
That's the way. In and out.
Inhale, exhale the toxins.
Well, I leave you to the warm threads of the doctor's electric blanket...
one of his inventions that I fear will not catch on.
Enjoy your little nap.
I'm off to the warm embrace of my afternoon enema.
Mr. Lightbody?
It's Ida.
- Ida Muntz. - Oh, Miss Muntz.
How are you enjoying your stay at the San?
Still feeling my way.
Feeling any better?
Ah, yes, lots.
- And you? - About the same.
Miss Muntz, please forgive me for asking...
but what exactly is the matter with you?
Oh, green sickness.
Don't you just hate the food?
Well, I don't eat very much.
Do you have a bad stomach?
You have very kind eyes and a very noble nose.
I do?
Will, I have a confession to make.
At nights I lay in my bed just across the hallway from you...
and I think but for my green sickness, you might find me attractive.
But I do.
I look at myself in the mirror and think, " Who would kiss me?
Who would make love to a plate of moldy bread?"
Oh, don't say that, Miss Muntz. You mustn't say that.
Can't you see my face?
Yes, I see your face.
Well?
It's a bit pale, that's all.
I've made up my mind.
If I've been scheduled to die, I've decided to live.
Could I ask you a very great favor?
Inhale fresh air. Exhale the toxins.
In and out.
Seize the air with your lungs.
That's the way.
In and out.
In, out. That's the ticket.
In, out.
Will, I came to say I'm sorry.
For everything.
It's okay.
I just... I just want you to get better.
I want us both to get better. It was wrong of me to blame you for the baby.
It was my fault.
No, I blame myself because I just wasn't healthy enough.
That's why this is so important to me, don't you see?
I do.
I know you'll grow to love this place as much as I do.
I'll try.
I really will. That's a promise.
And when we're both well...
I want you to come to me.
I want you to give me another baby.
Not yet, not yet.
In a month or so.
- A month? - When we're both well.
You're so beautiful.
Mr. Lightbody! Mrs. Lightbody!
Ellie! Eleanor, please!
I'm very disappointed in you, Will.
Please make sure you drink your milk.
We only kissed. We didn't do anything.
We were just talking. Just talking.
About how much we like it here. About how much we like the San.
Just drink your milk!
- I have feelings, you know. - So do I.
Oh, I'm sorry. I was just...
I was passing by and your door was open.
It's my face, isn't it?
Your face?
You're staring at my face.
No, I was...
What color is it?
Viridian.
What color is it? Say it.
Creme de menthe?
What color is it?
It's green.
Well, no, no. It isn't really green.
It's more, uh...
It's more pale than green.
Will, I'm cold.
Would you like me to get you a blanket?
Would you please lay on top of me?
Would you please close the flap?
Now do it.
Do it?
Do it.
Mr. Lightbody.
Sorry.
There is nothing finer
Than toasted flakes
And rice Carolina
It's the natural law
To eat the corn and grain
So the spirits soar
And bowels are born again
Every woman
Every man
Eleanor, look.
Do you see who it is? It's Lionel Badger.
- Lionel who? - Dr. Lionel Badger...
of the American Vegetarian Society.
Surely you've heard of him. Oh, he's a wonderful fanatic.
No, I don't know him.
He wrote a fabulous paper on the clitoris.
But I thought you said he was a vegetarian?
It's all related, darling.
It is?
What actually did you do over at Kellogg's, Bart?
Mostly I vacuumed the doctor's cows.
Let me chuck some salt in here, sir. See how that works.
I call this batch number seven.
Excuse me.
Bender?
What is it, Charles? You have that look on your face again.
They don't look very appetizing.
They will. Give it time.
Bookbinder doesn't seem to have much of a clue.
Do you think maybe we hired him a bit too hastily?
He wasn't even a baker at Kellogg's. He worked in the cow sheds.
Never underestimate the abilities of the common man.
Okay, there are 22 batches here. Each one of them different.
An ounce of salt this way. A touch of malt the other.
And I've got it all written down.
And this is batch number one.
Batch number one, it is, Mr. Bookbinder.
Gentlemen...
history is about to be eaten.
Shit!
Well, one down, twenty-one to go.
Batch number two, please, Mr. Bookbinder.
We mustn't get disheartened.
Right, Goodloe?
"The nipples, tongue, neck and lips may be utilized...
to maintain and increase the libido sexualis."
And read that bit at the bottom.
About " it's no more than a woman has the right to demand. Any sexual pleasure..."
What does Dr. Kellogg think of our Mr. Badger?
Hates him.
Tell me, Virginia, honestly, do you think that sex is harmful?
Oh, another ridiculous idea dreamed up by men.
The only thing harmful about sex, my dear...
is when women don't get enough of it when they want it...
or don't get to enjoy it when they do.
Is there another batch?
I've got it! We'll sell this batch as pig food.
Vegopork.
No, no, Per-Fo-Korno for vegetarian pigs.
Don't think so.
Even the pigs won't eat it.
Oh come let us adore him
You did not knock. I'm at my ablutions, sir.
- He's here again, sir. - Who, Badger?
No, sir.
Your son, George. He's throwing projectiles.
Projectiles?
Cornflakes boxes, sir. At the guests.
Boxes? Our cornflakes?
- No, sir. - Not my brother's?
No, sir. They're cornflakes boxes, but there's no cornflakes in 'em.
They have...
rice Carolina.
Rice Carolina?
Well, in a manner of speaking, yes.
Actually...
used rice Carolina, to be more precise.
Used?
I think young George has gained access to the latrines, sir.
Latrines?
He's throwing boxes of shit at the guests!
What?
Stop this at once!
You're a bad boy. You're very, very naughty.
Give us a cuddle.
Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
All is bright
Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant
So tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly...
Who was it?
Stop it!
Stop laughing! Who was it?
The American foot. Underline.
The American foot, like American teeth and American woman, is deteriorating.
The big toe being so long and so separated as to be useless.
The Japanese, on the other hand, have smaller toes.
I once had a Japanese patient who could play the violin with his feet.
Vivaldi, Beethoven, Mozart, Palestrina.
You all right, Poult?
What's the matter with you?
Poult?
Get that last note about the violin, Poult? Hey!
Poultney Dab, you've had a heart attack. And much worse...
you're dead, sir.
You're a good man. Maybe I worked you too hard, but damn it all, man...
it's very unprofessional of you, if I may say so.
How could you, right here for everyone to see?
What will people think?
A fine advertisement for biological livin' you are, Poultney Dab!
Very unprofessional. Do you hear me?
Will, there you are. We'd quite given up on you.
Mr. Unpronounceable and I were having an interesting conversation about the czar.
Woodbine, more amperes.
My John Thomas is limp between my thighs.
Who are you thinking of?
My dear, dear wife. A lonely religious woman.
And the waitress at the kiosk with the enormous breasts.
Cornflake-fed and yogurt-toned.
And you?
Eleanor, my wife.
And Ida Muntz, no doubt.
Yes, Miss Muntz. And Nurse Graves.
Oh, ho-ho, Nurse Graves.
More amperes please, Mr. Woodbine.
And you, Mr. Unpronounceable?
Oh, come now, Mr. Unpronounceable...
I can't believe there isn't a tit or two...
you would have liked to have squeezed in Saint Petersburg.
What happened? Are they hurt?
I do believe it's worse. I think they're dead.
What? What should we do?
Well, Woodbine, I'm sure, is a Seventh-Day Adventist...
but I know no prayers whatsoever of the Russian Orthodox Church.
They're dead, Endymion?
They're dead! They've been electrocuted!
Please don't get hysterical. It's terribly American and rather vulgar.
These crackpot machines murdered them! Don't you understand?
It is rather a severe cure for flatulence, I do admit.
You're a lunatic.
Mr. Unpronounceable is dead! He's dead!
These... crazy contraptions killed him!
You must get a perspective on things. I talked to the man.
There was very little for him to look forward to in Russia.
You're mad.
And Woodbine? What about Woodbine?
He's a bath attendant. He's probably never heard of Russia.
Nurse Graves? Irene!
- Where is she? - It's her day off. Can I help you?
Ida?
Ida? Miss Muntz?
I'm afraid poor Ida's no longer with us.
- She left? - She died.
- What? - Last night, 4:00 a.m.
It was very peaceful.
- What happened? - Looks as if he had a heart attack.
Everybody's dying!
If this is the healthiest place on earth, why is everybody dying?
Do we not hear the bleating of the calves?
The bellowing of the bull? The cackling of frightened geese?
The gobbling of reluctant turkeys?
Do we not hear the shrieks of thousands of animals...
we dare to call dumb?
What are you having, sir?
A whiskey. A double.
And a beer chaser.
And a hamburger... with bacon.
Mr. Lightbody!
Charles, Charles Ossining. We met on the train.
We're all dying.
Every man, woman and child. I'll drink to that.
How would you like that hamburger, sir?
Rare. No, not just rare.
Really rare. In fact, cold in the middle.
They make glue from animal's hooves.
Buttons from bones. Combs from horns.
Soap from their fat.
They even make quack medicines from their testicles.
That's awful. It's so sad.
I've been so blind. You're a wonderful man.
Dr. Badger!
Your corset is gone, I'm pleased to see.
The bust is the fountain of life.
Flat-chested women are a danger to themselves.
Now your glasses.
My glasses?
Mere crutches for the eyes. You don't need them.
Throw them into the fire.
We had the factory. We had the machinery. We had the staff.
And, may I add, we had a great product!
We were poised and ready for success.
- And we run out of money. - Oh, you want money!
I can give you money.
No, no. I couldn't.
Charlie, you haven't got a pot to piss in.
But I envy you.
You do?
I envy you your dreams.
Charlie. Charlie.
We must never, ever...
live in a world where dreams are rarer than money.
How much do you want? Five hundred? A thousand?
A thousand would be very helpful.
Rejoice ye hands
And be joyful on earth
Rejoice in the face of the Lord
For he cometh
Hallelujah
Hey, folks!
Here at the San, the goose is not cooked!
Merry Christmas to you all! Merry Christmas!
The place is filled with shams...
murderers and wife stealers.
- Charlie? - Yes?
Tell me truthfully, as my friend...
- I am your friend. - You're my friend.
Do I look any better for eating this seaweed?
For having my insides sucked out of me? Do I?
- No, you look like shit. - I look like shit. I feel like shit.
- And you're in the shit. - I am definitely in the shit!
Charlie, with friends like you...
Who needs enemas?
To friendship and to looking like shit.
To being full of shit.
To bad health. To indigestion.
To shitsville!
Why pretend that sex doesn't exist?
Surely it's the clearest expression of health and vitality.
But Dr. Kellogg says the loss of bodily fluids is a drain on the nervous system.
But supposing he's wrong.
Supposing these fluids build up inside you.
And if they're bottled up, what happens to them?
Will they explode?
But isn't it true the good doctor has never had sex?
- Mumps. - No!
Are you saying that he's... That he can't...
- Exactly. - I don't believe...
Please excuse me. I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid it's Will.
Every woman, every man
Is at the temple of shit
Here at the Battle Creek San
We thought you should know, ma'am, before the boss finds him.
Thank you.
Will, what have you done?
You've been drinking.
Yes, thank you very much. I'll deal with it.
Ellie. Ellie, they killed them.
You're drunk! I can't believe you!
After all everyone's done for you! How could you do this to yourself?
They were murdered. Mr. Unpronounceable and Woodbine!
Oh, shut up! Did you actually think that you could get away with this?
They didn't just close their eyes and die.
They were electrocuted! In the suicidal bath!
- Fried like pork chops! - Will Lightbody, I've had enough.
Let me take you away from this place...
before we end up like Miss Muntz, before they kill us all.
You make it so difficult to love you.
Mr. Lightbody!
Pull him out!
Sorry, sir.
You have disobeyed my orders, risked your life...
plunged into some reckless debauch.
Are you mad?
I smell alcohol.
You are intoxicated, sir!
Sir, I see pickles and relish and ketchup...
and pork, yes, I see pork.
Meat. Red flesh and blood.
How could you, sir?
You obviously don't give two hoots about your own life, sir, but I do.
I'm gonna schedule you for surgery.
Not the knife! Please not the knife! I'm really sorry.
Too late to be sorry, sir. I'm gonna remove your kink.
- But I haven't even touched my wife. - I'm not talking about your penis.
I'm gonna chop out your offending intestines. Nurse!
Gastric lavage! Put Mr. Lightbody on the enema machine until further notice.
Be quick!
Ladies.
- Good morning, Doctor. - Good morning.
Good-bye! Good luck!
Did I die? Am I in heaven?
Heaven on earth. You're at the San.
Will, it was a success. Your kink is gone.
But surely if the testicles are never called upon, wouldn't they grow useless?
I can't believe that nature has made such a blunder...
as to provide the human race with such mischievous organs...
if we're not meant to put them to good use.
Mr. Badger, I think the other guests are less than pleased.
I'm not ashamed of my body. It's completely natural.
I agree.
Dress reform is about liberating the body from its artificial constraints.
- Isn't that what Professor Kuntz says? - You've read Freikorper Kultur, eh?
Are you familiar with the nudism movement?
Professor who?
"Cuntz."
Kuntz. Kuntz.
No, I haven't read him, but I think you're right.
What the heck.
Do you know what I'm wearing under these shorts?
- Nothing? - Nothing?
I'm sorry. I can't keep up with this.
I was just getting the hang of vegetarianism.
To the Germans.
Professor Cu... Kuntz.
And to Dr. Spitzvogel.
Who is Dr. Spitzvogel?
I don't know.
- He's a specialist in movement therapy. - Eleanor, you have to try it.
When I left, after my first session, I was floating on clouds.
But what did he do?
Well, he...
- He manipulates the womb. - And the breasts.
Die Handhabung Therapeutisch, to give it its German name.
Oh. I'm not doing anything German.
After only one session, I was weak. Weak!
Weak?
I am sure Dr. Kellogg would not approve.
- Oh, my God! - What?
There's a woman wearing a fox collar with head, feet, the whole thing!
That's not wine I spilled, madam, it's blood!
No animal should suffer for you to look beautiful.
- You're mad! - As you are ugly!
No amount of animals slaughtered in your behalf will make you look different.
Madam, control yourself.
Look at me, sir! Would you skin the flesh from my body as well?
- Bravo, Eleanor. - Bravo, Eleanor.
We're so proud of you, Eleanor.
It was a great success, Charles.
Just cast your eyes over those figures, and have a cigar.
Thirty-two thousand in advance orders.
I feel like Caesar returning from the Gaelic wars.
Have a cigar.
You should be pleased. We're on our way!
This is a letter from my aunt. She arrives on Friday.
Arrives? Mrs. Hookstratten?
Yes! She's going to the San for her nerves.
- She wants to visit the factory. - What factory?
Oh! Oh, yes. Our factory.
Well, that is rather inconvenient.
Inconvenient?
You hooked me like a fish, Bender.
You scaled me, you gutted me, you stuffed me and fried me!
Chewed me up, swallowed me, and shat me out again!
You bet your ass it's inconvenient! Don't you see?
We have no factory! These orders are for someone else's cornflakes!
You made me lie, you son of a bitch! Bender, I lied!
As day follows night, Charles, one truth is undeniable:
Behind every shining fortune lurks the shadow of a lie.
That's what business is.
Good-bye, Will. Time to go.
If I eat any more roughage, I feel I'd do my back passage a permanent injury.
Good-bye, Endymion.
I've grown quite fond of you these past few months.
Take care of yourself, dear boy. It's worth it.
Is it? Is all of this worth it?
Dear Will, what is life...
but a temporary victory over that which causes our inevitable death?
Looks like rain.
- Oh! I have a little gift for you. - What is it?
It's a Dusselberg Belt. German apparatus.
- Most sexual inventions are these days. - Sexual?
I didn't use it. I thought it might be useful to you in the twilight hours.
Thank you. Endymion, I'll miss you.
Good-bye, Will.
Follow your heart. It's the one organ...
that will surely let you down one day, so don't waste it while you're living.
I'll remember. Endymion, you're a special man.
Bye, Will.
Bye, Endymion.
I'm so glad you could come.
Come then, ja?
Please, you will remove your clothing and slip into this.
And then please, lie on the table and relax...
and dream and think only beautiful thoughts.
Here we have a beast of the wild.
And over here, folks, on the table, docile and benign...
we have our dearest Fauna.
The San's much-loved vegetarian wolf.
And relax, Mrs. Lightbody.
That's good.
That's good. Yes.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Open your legs, please. Just relax.
Don't worry. I am a doctor. That's good.
Relax. Yeah.
That's good. Enjoy it. Yes.
Think beautiful thoughts.
Dream.
See, not the slightest interest.
A beautiful passive animal.
Oh, yes, indeed.
A beast of the wild.
He's known only the carnal pleasures.
- Are you okay? - Yes, I'm fine. Thank you.
I think that I'm getting better.
I'll come back after you've had your nap. Can I get you anything?
No, not at the moment. Thank you, Irene. Maybe later.
I shall introduce it to the San early next year.
Mrs. Hookstratten!
Doctor!
How delightful to see you again.
I'm so sorry to hear about your nerves.
Please sit beside me. Tell me all about it.
But didn't the Alcotts practice free love, is it called? I mean, really.
You shouldn't sneer at free love. Its roots are purely feminist.
Conventional marriage is a prison.
One should go wherever love leads.
It's jealousy that's the obscenity.
And I want to see my nephew Charles whilst I'm here.
He's not really my nephew. He's the son of one of my under parlor maids.
Stupid woman. Always getting pregnant by some gate man or other.
Anyway, he has a thriving new breakfast food company.
Oh, really? What is it called?
Kellogg's. Of course. Kellogg's Per-Fo.
I thought you would've known, what with your son being one of the partners.
Partners?
George?
George Kellogg? What seems to be the problem?
I don't think he feels well, sir.
No? Then perhaps he needs a purgative.
What about calomel or castor oil?
Or shall we stop this nonsense and eat up our food?
Food? You call this food?
What did you say?
We want proper food. Meat and potatoes is what we want.
Ida, stop laughing! David, stop laughing!
Meat and potatoes!
Stop it, George!
Stop it!
I command you to stop now!
George, stop it!
Why is he like this?
What did I do wrong?
I mean, didn't I give him everything? Everything?
Everything you could.
Then why does he hate me so?
Maybe what you're giving him isn't what he wants.
Mr. Bender, please. It's Charles Oss...
I know, sir. Mr. Charles Ossining. You're president of Per-Fo Food Company.
Indeed. Well, tell Mr. Bender I'm here, will you?
That's not possible, sir. Unfortunately, Mr. Bender is no longer a resident.
- What? - He checked out, or rather disappeared.
The second floor maid found his room empty, but...
he did leave a note saying that you would be settling his account.
Which is a substantial sum. A very substantial sum.
And these two gentlemen also would like a word with you.
- Yes? - Mr. Ossining?
- Yes. - Mr. Charles Ossining?
I have to serve due process, sir, to inform you...
that separate lawsuits have been filed in the Calhoun County court...
to enjoin the production, sale and transportation of Kellogg's Per-Fo.
And substantial damages are being claimed.
And I have Mr. Bender's bill here, sir...
and his instructions to give it to you.
Stop him!
Stop that man!
Stop! Stop!
Lightbody!
Mr. Lightbody, please sit down.
Something has come to my attention that I think you should be aware of.
It is your wife.
Yes. To my displeasure...
she's been seeing an outside physician.
Not Badger. No. Although he is no doubt responsible.
No, it is worse. It is a German.
- A German? - Yes, sir, a German.
By the name of... What is it, Jarvis?
Spitzvogel. Dr. Spitzvogel.
It seems that Eleanor's been taken by...
Die Handhabung Therapeutisch.
Is it serious?
It is not a disease. It is a treatment.
- I'm sorry, I don't follow. - It is her womb.
Her womb?
She's been having it manipulated.
Manipulated? Is that dangerous?
There are certain things a doctor and a priest cannot share with his flock...
but I will say this, look to your wife.
You're neglecting a beautiful woman, sir.
And now I will move on. Into the next room, please.
Miss Jarvis, item two, if you will.
Into the room, sir. Thank you.
- Morning, ladies. - Morning, Doctor.
Nurse Bloethal found this apparatus under your bed, sir.
Don't you know this thing can kill you?
How could you be so foolish?
Let me tell you this, sir...
build up your resolve...
not your genitals.
That will be all.
Masturbation is the vilest sin of self-pollution!
The most loathsome reptile rolling...
in the slush and slime of a stagnant pool...
would not demean himself thus.
It is the sin of Onan.
Do you bicycle?
Oh, what a shame! There's some beautiful terrains.
Charles?
We're over here!
- Aunt! - Oh, my dear boy.
Oh, how are you?
You look so different.
Have you lost weight? Are you growing a beard?
You look wonderful as always. It's so nice to see you.
I'm so sorry to hear about your nerves.
Listen, about our little visit to the factory.
I think it would be best if we postpone it for a few days, perhaps a week.
I understand you know Eleanor Lightbody.
- Of course. - Yes, we've met.
How are you? May I introduce my friend, Virginia Cranehill. Charles Ossining.
- It's a pleasure. - Pleasure's mine.
And how is the breakfast food tycoon today?
Just fine.
If you'll excuse us.
You're not joining us for the luncheon?
Virginia and I are sneaking off.
Mr. Ossining.
- It's very nice meeting you. - Ladies.
Sadly, so must I. So much to do, so little time. You know me. Work, work.
Nonsense. We're going for lunch. Give me your arm.
Now, tell me all about the factory.
Will.
Irene. You look very pretty.
I hardly recognized you with your clothes on.
- I mean, out of uniform. - Thank you.
Is Eleanor here?
No, she's off to a vegetarian seminar.
They're going to eat dandelions with Badger.
Both guaranteed to make me vomit.
I was thinking of going to Goguac Lake.
That's nice.
We could go together. That is, if you're not doing anything.
No. That would be very nice.
I want it to be perfect for you.
Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon.
I do not wish to spoil the festivities of celebration day...
a special day that marks the anniversary of this establishment...
founded by those visionaries of vegetarianism...
the Seventh-Day Adventists some 42 years ago.
No, my friends, I will be brief because I have an unpleasant duty to perform.
Quite simply, friends, we have among us an impostor.
A charlatan. A fraud.
A criminal of the very worst stripe.
A man so heinous and without conscience...
that I have taken time out of my busy schedule to ensnare and expose him.
A man who has violated every principle of human decency.
To defraud his own patron.
The very woman who took him up from poverty...
to dress him, educate him and give him a start in life.
That woman is Mrs. Hookstratten, and that man was you, sir.
The factory?
The letters?
Charles, how could you do this to me?
It wasn't me. I tried. I really tried. It was this man, Bender!
Oh, yes, Mr. Goodloe Bender.
Who I once knew as Nevada Ned of the Kickapoo Indian Medicine Show.
A villain of the very first order.
He's now safely in police custody in Buffalo.
You took advantage of this good woman, sir, for vulgar profit.
Oh, yes, you did. Oh, yeah.
Not just profit!
It wasn't just profit. I had hopes, great hopes!
What's wrong with profit? Don't you profit, sir...
from these good people who you've conned into eating grass and sawdust?
So that they'll defecate and you can suck it out of them with enemas?
So that you can feed them more sawdust?
Don't you have workers who strive through the night for a pittance?
Is there one nurse in this whole sanitarium...
who dabs ointment...
on the piles of rich, fat asses...
who washes out the bedpans...
who makes more than...
the cost of this pile of horseshit you call food, sir?
Mr. Farrington, the manacles, please.
Lock him away, and as far as I'm concerned, you can throw away the key.
- I can't do this. - I know, because...
Certain things have to be avoided...
like feather beds and romantic novels and the touching of one's organs.
No, that's not the reason. It's got nothing to do with the doctor.
I love my wife. It's Eleanor.
That's why I can't do this.
Good-bye, Irene.
I'm sorry. You're really very beautiful.
Sex is the sewer drain of a healthy body, Will.
I'm sure that you'll see that.
Any use of the sexual act other than procreation...
is a waste of vital energy.
An erection is a flagpole on your grave.
Eleanor, you're naked!
It's Die Freikorper Kultur!
- And you're being manipulated! - It's Die Handhabung Therapeutisch!
Don't give me that German crap!
He was handhabunging you! You let a stranger handhabung you!
Herr Spitzvogel is a doctor!
And you, you ginger-haired pig balls, you were masturbating!
Sir, I was not!
I saw you with my own eyes!
I was massaging my colon!
Massaging your colon?
I know where the colon is, and it doesn't stick up in the air!
Will, I know how all this must look, but understand he's a doctor.
Doctor, my ass!
Nurse, my ass! What have you been doing with Irene Graves?
Nurse Graves! Nurse Graves.
And your green friend, Miss Moss.
Miss Muntz.
Shut up! Shut up.
Shut up! Shut up!
If I hear one more German word...
I'll shove this stick right up your alimentary canal!
Eleanor, wait!
Eleanor, don't you think I deserve an explanation?
It's not what it looked like. You're overreacting.
Overreacting? A man had his hand up your crotch.
- It was medicine! - Medicine? He was up to his elbows!
Stop it, Will! All right, maybe I went too far, but you know something?
It felt good! It felt very good. I felt good!
- You'd never understand. - But I do understand.
You don't know how to feel good! You're incapable!
But I feel good.
I feel great!
As a matter of fact, I never felt better in my whole life!
You do?
Then I guess we can go home.
Hello, Dr. Vegetable.
You get out!
You can't wait to stick that tube up your ass, can you?
I said get out!
I'm gonna burn this place to the ground.
You're mad, and you're drunk.
Too late for that.
Do you like fireworks?
Fire!
Come back here, you confounded maniac!
George, stop this insanity!
I'll give you $250!
Five hundred!
Stop it!
George Kellogg, you've been a pain to me all my life!
Come back!
Georgie, speak to me. Say something.
Georgie, say something to me. Speak to me.
Daddy.
Give us a cuddle, Daddy.
The San burned for three nights and three days.
The glow in the sky could be seen from as far away as Kalamazoo.
Will and I lived happily in Peterskill where we had four daughters...
and I opened Westchester's first health store.
- Huh! - What is it?
It's a check for $1,000. From Charles Ossining.
By all accounts, the charges against Mr. Ossining had been forgotten...
in the confusion as the San burned.
And he eventually became very rich.
Apparently he had struck upon the idea of taking sugar water...
and impregnating it with the leaf of the coca plant.
And as for Dr. Kellogg...
he rebuilt the San and soldiered on in his crusade for biological living.
Gentlemen, I will now perform a forward somersault with a half-twist.
I'm well in advance of the Biblical age of threescore and ten.
I'm in perfect health, and I'm convinced I will live forever...
because...
my bowels are immaculate!
Alas, Dr. Kellogg died midsomersault.
He said he was healthy.
Proving once and for all that...
even he was not right about everything.
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