John Mc-Clane: [hands Zeus a gun] Here take this.
Zeus: How's it work?
John: You don't know how to shoot a gun?
Zeus: Look, all brothers don't know how to shoot guns, you racist motherfucker.
John: Sue me.
Zeus: Why you keep calling me JÚsus? I look Puerto Rican to you?
John: Guy back there called you JÚsus.
Zeus: He didn't say JÚsus. He said, "Hey, Zeus!" My name is Zeus.
Zeus: Yeah, Zeus! As in, father of Apollo? Mt. Olympus? Don't fuck with me or I'll shove a lightning bolt up your ass? Zeus! You got a problem with that?
John: No, I don't have a problem with that.
Right about now, the funk soul brother
Check it out now, the funk soul brother
"Barack Obama! A black man! With a black name! I know that ain't that black here [in Johannesburg, South Africa], but in America that's about as black as a name could get. Barack Obama! That's right next to Dikembe Mutombo. That's right. Barack, man, he don't let his blackness sneak up on you. Y'know, if his name was Bob Jones or something, it might take you two or three weeks to realize he black. But as soon as you hear "Barack Obama"...you expect to see a brother with a spear! Just standin' on top of a dead lion! Barack Obama! You expect to see the bass player from The Commodores come out! (sings and mimes playing bass) 'Too hot ta trot, now, baby, too hot ta trot, bay-by!' I'm not talkin' about Lionel Richie, I'm talkin' about them shiny niggas behind him!"
— Chris Rock, Kill the Messenger