"Debra, what the hell happened to my dictionary?" "Oh, yeah, Ray." "I'm sorry." "I was going to tell you." "I caught the boys sliding down the stairs on it." "Oh, come on." "It's ruined." "Look at this." "The leather binding's all coming off, the... pages are missin', the cover's comin' off it." "Calm down, Ray." "It's just a dictionary." "It's not "just a dictionary," Robert, all right?" "I won this in the seventh-grade spelling bee." "Ah." "Another one of Raymond's triumphs." "Seventh-grade spelling." "Gosh, what word put you over the top, Raymond?" ""Boat"?" "For your information, I had to spell "vacuum."" "Okay?" "Two "U's."" "Or two "C's."" "I don't know 'cause there's no "V" in here." "Heh-heh-heh-heh." "What goes around comes around, huh, Ray?" "What do you mean?" "Just like when you ruined my jazz records." "Oh, all right." "Dad, we all know the story, okay, so not again." "Why not?" "It's a short story." "Once upon a time, I had great jazz records." "You were born, now I don't." "All right!" "You been on me for this for over 30 years." " I believe it was the winter of '69." " Will you stop it?" "I had just come home from a hard day's work" "If you're gonna do this, then just go home." "Tell your story somewhere else." "Yeah, let's get Ma to make us some hot chocolate." "Ray, if you need me, I'll be across the street not listening to my favorite jazz records." "You never touched my stuff, Robert." "It's too bad Ray wasn't more like you." "Putz." "P-U-T-Z." "The putz walked into the door." "Putz." "Hey." "Hey." "I'm glad you're here." "Go get me some chips." "Actually, I got something better for you." "Chips and dip?" "Look, I got you a gift, okay?" "I didn't want to wait till Christmas to give it to you, so here." "What the hell are these?" "Your jazz records." "These aren't my records." "They're better than records." "They're CDs of your old records." "Where's your CD player?" "I don't have a CD player." "No, you do." "A couple of years ago" "Debra and I got you a portable one." "Oh, yeah." "It's probably in the basement." "Okay." "Good." "Wait here." "I'm gonna get it." "Your mother's down there doing laundry." "Tell her break time is over." "I'm starving!" "Hey, Mom, what are you doin'?" "Your father says the dryer makes his pants too tight." "I think that's the refrigerator." "Listen, you got a CD player?" "Yes, we do." "Would you like it?" "Because we need the space." "No, Ma." "We gave it to you." "And we love it." "Okay, all right, where is it?" "It's over there." "Oh my God, look at all this stuff!" "Would you like a popcorn popper?" "You didn't give us that, did you?" "Here it is-- the CD player Debra and I got you." "And look at this-- it's a clock radio." "A-- a DVD player." "A microwave oven." "Another microwave oven." "Look at this." "You didn't even finish taking the wrapping off." "We don't need an electrical knife." "Cutting meat is your father's only exercise." "Hey, Marie, let's go." "I need a damn sandwich before I get cranky." "Dad, look at all this stuff." "It's just sittin' here." "What, Mount Crapmore?" "This stuff-- it's not crap, Dad." "Mom, you should put this microwave in the kitchen." "It's great." "Debra has the same model." "Well, I'm sold." "Dad, you want a pot roast?" "You can have it in 15 minutes with this." "I can get it in 10 with this." "Okay, how about this-- automatic garage-door opener?" "You don't gotta break your back lifting' the door." "Okay, all right." "Mom can cook, and she can lift a door, but... she cannot reproduce the finest music of the 20th century with crystal-clear digital quality." "Actually, I have been told that I have a marvelous singing voice." "I know you do, Ma, but wait until you hear this." "This'll only take a second." "Look at all those wires." "You know what loves wires?" "Dust." "Don't touch my tools." "I don't need tools, Dad." "Look how complicated it looks." "Ma, it's simple." "You just plug it in." "Yeah, I can see the electric company rubbing' their mitts together right now." "Dad, it only uses a little power, and it's easy to use." "You just push that button, you open up the tray, you grab a CD, and you pop it in." "Voila!" "Just gotta-- you take the wrapping off... put the thing in." "All right." "A little, uh..." "Raymond, maybe you could use this." "I don't need that, Ma." "Maybe you could use a blowtorch." "Look, see, listen-- when you get the plastic off, all you do is insert the disc, you close the tray, put the selector on CD, and press "play."" "We're not astronauts, Raymond." "Fine." "I'll write it down for you, Ma." "Can I go up now?" "No no no no no." "No no no." "Here we go." "Okay, just gotta get this sticky thing off." "Dad, you're gonna love this, Dad." "You're gonna be blown away when you hear this." "This is where I used to listen to 'em." "I'd come home from a hard day's work, your mother would mix me a drink," "I'd come down here, put on the hi-fi, and let Duke and Dizzy take me away... from your mother." "I almost got it, Dad." "Then one day, I came down, and where my records used to be, you had set up your stupid race-car track thing." "My records were over there, pushed up against the furnace." "They didn't stand a chance." "Open!" "Come on, Marie." "I'm starving." "No, wait, Dad." "I'm getting it now." "When you're finished, shut off the lights, Raymond." "I'm getting it." "It's almost open!" "Will you stop it?" "Stop!" "You're gonna hear it in a few seconds." "Will you stop it?" "All right, forget it!" "Forget it!" "Forget..." "Forget it!" "I want nothin' to do with either of ya!" "I'll tell you what:" "My mother and my father-- we're through with 'em!" "You read my letter to Santa." "He's-- he's unbelievable!" "You know, I try to do something nice." "I" " I try to make things right." "Uh..." "Ray?" "What happened over there?" "This is my mother's." "You wanna know what happened?" "Nothing happened." "He wouldn't listen to the CDs, because they're not records." "All right." "Calm down." "Listen" "You gotta get rid of that." "Okay, I'll wrap it." "I need a stocking stuffer for your mother anyway." "At least I know she'll like it." "I hope none of these are for him." "He's just gonna put 'em in the basement or trade 'em in for a buggy whip and wooden teeth." "Ray, you know your father." "He hates anything new." "Yes, but if he would just listen to the CDs and hear how great they sound, I know he would love them!" " No, Ray, he wouldn't." " Yes, he would." " Ray, come here." " I can't stand him!" " Sit down." " Why can't he just" "Sit down!" "I'm all clenchy." "Let's remember... this doesn't have to be your problem." "Anytime your father brings up those jazz records, don't let yourself get sucked in." "That's what he wants." "You don't wanna be as bad as him, do you?" "Don't respond." "You're better than him." " Damn straight." " Yeah." "Let him be mad." "Let him hold on to it." "It's not your problem." "This is his problem." "You can move on." " You know what I'm gonna do?" " What?" "I'm gonna sneak in and set up the CD player." "You weren't even listening." "When they go out tonight, I'm goin' in!" "That old man-- he's gonna hear how great CDs are, that they're better than records, and that will shut him up once and for all." "Thanks for your help." "Ray?" "Oh." "Hey." " What are you doing?" " I'm waiting for my parents." "When they come home, I'm gonna play the CD." "They're out doin' their last-minute-Christmas-Eve- save-a-dollar- on-tinsel shopping." "How long have you been back there?" "About an hour." "Honey, come on." "Come home." "No no no." "I got the CD all set up." "I got the remote." "When they come in, I'm gonna play the music." "I'm not even gonna say anything to them." "Frank, why didn't you leave a light on out here?" " I can't even see my keys." " Just open the damn door." "Look out!" "Holy crap!" "Too loud." "I'm sorry." "Turn it down!" "I'm trying." "You're blockin' the laser beam thing." "See, with a CD, you can turn it loud, no distortion." "Oh, my heart." "Oh, my eggs." "What are you tryin' to do to us?" "Oh, that was awful, Raymond." "Yes, and these ornaments were on sale." "I'm sorry." "I wanted to give you the opportunity to hear your jazz records" "like you've never heard 'em before." "Yeah, that's like I've never heard 'em before." "I didn't realize it was gonna be the soundtrack to my funeral." "Ho ho ho!" "Watch out, watch out, watch out!" "What am I sitting' in?" "Eggs... and eggnog." "And what is very sharp?" "That might be the menorah." "Menorah?" "It was a big sale." "What happened here?" "It was Raymond's horrible machine." "It's not a horrible machine, Mom." "It's a CD player." "Please, let me just play you one song." "Oh, God, no!" "He's gonna turn it on again!" "I don't wanna hear any CDs." "It's bad enough you ruined my records, you ruined my floor, my ornaments, and my cook!" "Look, please, just listen to it." " No!" " But listen!" " No!" " Guys, guys." "I think..." "I think..." "I think I might be able to help." "I was gonna give this to you tomorrow, Dad, but you might want to see it now." "Here you go, Pop." "From me to you." "Merry Christmas." "These are my records." "Not all of them." "But Robert and I went to some garage sales and used record stores this weekend." "And I think we came across some of your favorites." "Ben Webster meets Oscar Peterson." "I haven't heard this album in 30 years." "Ahh!" "Genuine American vinyl." "Look." "Look, Dad." "Got the same exact thing." "See, Ben meets Oscar here, too." "It's the same thing." "Listen to this." "Ray, you gotta let it go." "Yeah." "What are you doin', man?" "Oh oh, yeah yeah." "You would like nothing better than to have me suffer for 30 years, and then you just swoop in and be the hero." "Yeah, well, nice try, egg-ass." "All right?" "I was the one who ruined the jazz records." "I'll be the one to replace them." "Wait wait, Raymond." "Wait." "All right." "Go ahead." "Huh?" "Listen to that sound." "It's like Oscar Peterson is sittin' right here at the piano." "Play it, Oscar." "Play it, you swingin' jazz cat." "What are you doin'?" "I want to hear my jazz records." "You can't give it to me, can ya?" "Those CDs, they sound great, and you know it, but you can't give it up." "You just gotta keep torturing' me." "I loved those damn albums." "I was hoping someday you might love them too instead of your hippie jungle crap." "Those Beatles were awful, Raymond." "I know, Dad." "I know you loved 'em." "That's all I ever heard." ""Shut up, kids!" "I'm listenin' to my records!"" "Then why the hell did you ruin 'em?" "I don't remember." "I was 10!" "Why do you keep taking this out on me?" " 'Cause you did it!" " I didn't do it on purpose!" " I'm not so sure!" " Listen to me..." "Wait a minute!" "Wait a minute!" "I wanna say something." "That Christmas day in 1969... um..." "What is it, Robert?" "I'm gonna tell you what it is right now." "All right." "That Christmas..." "I wanted the Hot Wheels race-track set so bad." "I would see those commercials, and I would think, "This is my year, man."" "I could see myself setting up that beautiful bright orange track with the maroon connectors." "And you know what was under the tree waitin' for me?" "Custom-order corrective shoes." "Dr. Fishman said that they were the best for oversized feet." "I looked over, I saw Raymond elbow deep in a box of Hot Wheels." "My Hot Wheels." "You moved his records." "Excuse me." "May I finish my story, please?" "Go ahead, Robert." "Thank you very much, sweetie." "I hated you." "You got my Hot Wheels for Christmas." "Everything I ever dreamed about-- the track, the cars, the loop-de-loop." "You moved his records." "Later that day, after Raymond was tired of playing with his new Hot Wheels for a total of four minutes," "I pulled off my clunky corrective shoes and slipped downstairs." "Now it was my turn." "Raymond, of course, had the track set up all wrong." "An oval." "Oh, what a visionary you are." "I wanted to set it up like the kid on the box-- that happy, brotherless boy." "And, in doing so... your records may have been moved." "They may have?" "I moved your records." "You moved his records!" "Unbelievable!" "You let me suffer for 30 years." "Yes." "You two are so screwed up." "I'm sorry, Raymond." "I'm sorry, Dad." "Aw, it's okay." ""It's okay"?" "!" "Now it's okay?" "!" "Will you give it up already?" "It was 30 years ago." "Why don't you dip your pants in cinnamon and make us some French toast?" "Why don't you dip your pants..." "That doesn't make any sense!" "Hey hey!" "Why don't you go put on one of those records?" "I'd love to hear it." "Good idea, sister." "With pleasure, Dad." "Here, Robert." "This is a nice one." "Thank you, darling." "Great." "What am I supposed to do with my CDs now?" "You take them, you listen to them, you might like them." "You should try to keep an open mind about things." "All right." "Here it is." "Now that's music." "Okay, this is to Daddy from Michael and Geoffrey." "Oh!" "Thank you." "Hey!" "What is it?" "It's a new dictionary." "Oh." "Isn't that sweet?" "They felt bad about ruining your old one." "It's electronic." "Heh-heh-heh." ""It's better."" "And I love it." "But not more than I love you." "Ahh!" "Why don't you look up "fruitcake" in there?" "Fruitcake with sissy sauce." "Oh, look, Marie." "There's one more thing left in your stocking." "Thank you, dear." ""To Marie from Debra."" "Oh!" "Thank you, Debra." "You like it?" "To be honest, it's not a style I'd ever wear." "Nice try, though."